#Mastering interview responses

[lifes-little-corner]

how to answer tell me about yourself

Walking into a job interview can feel like stepping onto a stage. You have just seven seconds to make a strong first impression1. One of the most common questions you’ll face is, “Tell me about yourself.” It’s not just an icebreaker—it’s your chance to set the tone for the entire conversation. Many candidates struggle with this question. In fact, 75% fail to connect their current role to the job…

[thetriumphantpanda]

you'll just have to taste me | joel miller

Summary | He knows he's no good, knows it's a bad idea, you're out of bounds and should stay that way, but it's okay to test the waters, right?

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.7K

Warnings | this is literally 1.7k of utter filth, you've been warned, it's nasty, I told you, okay? Unspecified age gap, Joel is your dad's buddy and Sarah is your friend. Joel fights with his morals but the pussy is too good. Explicit smut, JUST THE TIP, unprotected PiV, cumshot, cum eating, spit play, dirty talk, Joel talks you through it. No outbreak au, no use of Y/N.

Authors Note | I AM SO INCREDIBLY LATE TO POST THIS, but this is my entry to @hellishjoel's HOT DILF SUMMER CHALLENGE. I know it's September and this was not my original idea, but it came to me and I wrote this in less than an hour. It's filth and it's nasty and I beg you not to judge me okay? Written and edited on my phone so forgive any mistakes.

Divider by @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s going to hell. He’s always known it. Despite the years of his parents putting him in his Sunday best and taking him to church each week with his brother, despite his upbringing and the way he’s always tried to be the perfect southern gentleman, Joel Miller is going to hell, and the evidence in right in front of him.

You. His buddy’s daughter. His own daughter’s friend. The bane of his existence for the whole damn summer, with your short dresses and flirty eyes and the way you make him laugh and the way he’s wanted you since you waltzed back into town, masters degree under arm, with one purpose which seemed to be to turn him on at every possible opportunity.

It’s been bubbling for weeks. You’d caught him in the corridor during movie night with Sarah, whilst she was downstairs microwaving popcorn and he’d had no choice but to kiss you, your lips drenched in something that tasted like mango and made him dizzy. Then, at the annual neighbourhood cookout, when you’d dropped a fork and bent over to pick it up, flashing him those skimpy panties as you did, he’d had no choice then but to drag you upstairs and teach you a lesson, ten sharp slaps on your pert ass and strong words that you needed to stop. He doesn’t doubt you went home that night and shoved three fingers into your cunt and dreamt of him as you came.

But now, it’s all real. Sarah’s gone back to college, your parents back to work, and you have nothing lined up until you start getting invited to interview for positions that you’d applied to with a slew of applications about two weeks ago. It’s why you’re on his bed, it’s why he’s left Tommy on site on his own, and why you’re bare as the day you were born, legs spread obscenely, pussy on display as he stands at the foot of his bed and contemplates whether he really should do this.

“Y’scared, old man?” You tease, one hand trailing down your body, two fingers spreading the swollen lips of your cunt, middle finger dipping inside.

He can see the webbing of slick you drag from yourself, finger slow as it circles your clit. His eyes can’t miss the way your hole flutters as you touch yourself, like it’s begging to be filled, begging to be filled by his throbbing cock that he’s currently fisting in his hand.

“Ain’t scared,” He mutters, “Y’sure you wanna do this?”

You don’t speak in response, just dip two fingers back into your weeping cunt and start fucking yourself with them. He squeezes his cock a little tighter in his hand, feeling the weeping of pre-cum at his tip as he watches.

“Ain’t no comin’ back from this.” He muses, moving forward, knees on the mattress, your legs spreading wider to accommodate the width of his thighs.

“Want you,” Is all he hears from your mouth as his cock rests on your pussy, hot and heavy against your skin, “Want your cock, Joel.”

He thrusts his hips a little at that, dragging his length through the soaking folds of your cunt, head rubbing against the swollen bud of your clit.

“Y’sure?” He asks, continuing the rub of his cock, “It’s all over then, baby,” He coos, “I’ll ruin ya.”

“Good,” You groan out, hips shifting to try and catch his tip at your entrance, to try and get exactly what you want, “I want it, Joel, I want it bad.”

“Y’know what I think?” He asks, looking down at you, stopping his movements and opting to circle your clit with his thumb instead, “I reckon we need t’make sure.”

“I am-” You try and protest, but he’s shushing you.

“I reckon,” He says slowly, bringing the tip of his cock to press to your weeping core, “It don’t count if it’s just the tip,” He pushes his hips forward ever so slightly, not enough to sink inside, but enough that he’s already had a taste of what you’ll feel like around him, “Just the tip baby, and then we’ll know.”

He looks down at you and he can see your wild eyes, the way you nod your head against the mattress. You’re such a good girl for him, taking whatever he’ll give you, so he does just that. With three fingers on the base of his cock, he lets the tip of him push inside you, just enough that the head of his cock is nestled inside you, and he knows he’s fucked.

You’re tight and you’re warm and you’re breathing and whimpering for him, and those perfect walls are clenching around him so right and so good that it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to shove his cock all the way in and damn you both to hell.

“Jesus girl,” He breathes, one hand clutching at your hip to hold you still, “Fuckin’ perfect, ain’t ya?”

You don’t speak back to him, it’s all you can do to lie and try not to writhe too much as he starts his shallow thrusts. The head of his cock popping from your wet cunt and then being sucked back in so perfectly. He’s had his fair share of women since Sarah went to college and he knows he’s a lot to take, knows that he knows what he’s doing too, but when he looks down at you, your eyes tilted back in your skull, cunt squeezing him just right, he can’t help but think this is what he’s been missing.

“That good?” He asks, bringing his thumb back to your clit, swirling wetness across it as he continues the shallow thrusts of his hips.

“Want it all,” You grumble, “Can take it all, Joel.”

“Ain’t got a doubt,” He teases, but doesn’t relent, “But we gotta make sure.”

He wants to lean down, wants to cover your body with his own and suck one of your perfect nipples into his mouth, but he knows the minute he does you’ll beg him so nice and he’ll break, so he resists, swirling his thumb across your clit with more purpose now.

“M’gonna-” You choke out, and he knows, he can feel it, the way you’re fluttering and tightening around the head of his cock so perfectly, “Gonna come, Joel.”

“Yeah?” He asks ruefully, “Gonna come on my cock, pretty girl?” He smiling down at you as your mouth drops open, your cunt pulling painfully tight around him, “Go on, you can do it,” He babbles, trying to fight the tightening in his own stomach until you’ve come for him, “Come for me, baby.”

And you do, by God you do, and he thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. You whine, a high-pitched kind of thing, eyes clamping shut as you arch your back. There’s more slick around his cock than he’s ever seen before, making it easy for the tip of his cock to ease you through it. The convulsing of your walls around him bring him to his own end, using his last braincell to drag the tip from your cunt and give himself three strokes before the thick ropes of his cum are splashing across your swollen pussy. He watches where they land, painting your skin as his own as his head tips back and breathes a sigh of relief.

He know’s he should stop, but there’s something mesmerising about the mix of his cum and your own, the way he’s dripping down you and onto his sheets. His shuffles down a little and leans forward, using his thumbs to spread your pussy open, before he uses his tongue to gather the mess down there. He’s slurping at you, tasting your cunt through his cum, gathering as much of the two of you as he can in his mouth.

You’re moaning for him when his tongue flicks a few times at your sensitive bud, but then his body is over yours, weight pressed against you as one of his hands takes your chin, squeezing at your jaw to get you to open your mouth, which you do, gladly.

Joel opens his own mouth, letting his cum, your slick and his spit drop from his own into your waiting mouth. He doesn’t give you a minute to swallow anything, his tongue mixing with yours in a kiss that is messy and obscene. He can feel your hips against his own, your hot cunt pressing against him. If he was younger, he’d pin you down and fuck you again, this time for real, but all he can do is pull away.

“Swallow it,” He orders, closing your mouth and watching the bob of your throat as you do what he says, producing your tongue for him, “Good fuckin’ girl.”

He unceremoniously collapses onto the bed next to you, arm over his eyes as he tries to recover some semblance of composure. He can feel your body next to his, shuffling a little closer, and then he can hear you stifling a laugh and then before long, it’s not stifled, it’s full on laughter. He takes his arm from his eyes and looks at you, and can’t help but start laughing himself, until his ribs hurt and you’ve calmed down enough, your body draped across his in the mid-afternoon glow.

“This is bad, huh?” You whisper, fingers dancing through the smattering of hair across his chest.

“Terrible, really.” He responds.

“I’m sure though,” And he holds you a little tighter at that, “Next time, I want the whole thing.”

“Don’t worry baby,” He says quietly, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, “You can have whatever you want next time.”

[flwrkid14]

The Tim Drake Heartthrob Conspiracy

It started as a slow, creeping suspicion. A few throwaway comments here, a couple of odd interactions there. At first, no one thought much of it.

One day, Dick was grabbing coffee near Wayne Enterprises when he overheard two interns chatting in line. “I saw Tim Drake today, and let me tell you, I think I’ve developed a new celebrity crush,” one of them said, giggling.

Dick nearly choked on his iced latte. Tim? Celebrity crush? He shook it off, chalking it up to the occasional corporate crush, nothing out of the ordinary for someone who runs a massive company. But then he heard it again the next week at a Titan’s briefing. Garfield leaned over to him during a meeting, nodding toward Tim across the room.

“Man, Tim’s really come into his own, huh? Guy’s kinda a looker now,” Gar commented.

Dick blinked, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, come on, Nightwing,” Gar teased, “you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed! The quiet broody thing is working for him. I bet half of Gotham has a crush on him.”

By the time Dick got back to Gotham, the gears were turning in his head. Did half of Gotham have a crush on Tim?

Then it happened again. This time it was Damian’s turn.

He had been sparring with Jon in the Batcave, when their conversation drifted, as it often did. “You ever think about what it would be like to date someone like Tim?” Jon asked, completely out of the blue.

Damian froze, mid-punch. “What?”

“I mean, he’s smart, right? Responsible, kinda low-key. Would probably make a great boyfriend,” Jon continued, completely oblivious to the growing horror on Damian’s face.

“Grayson and Todd, are enough. I refuse to let another sibling of mine become Gotham’s romantic fascination!” Damian exclaimed later that night at the dinner table. The others laughed, assuming Damian was just being overly dramatic, as usual.

But the seed had been planted.

It didn’t take long for the other Batfamily members to start picking up on the signs.

Steph first noticed when she logged onto a Wayne Enterprises fan forum (because yes, those exist) and saw a thread that was simply titled, “Tim Drake’s Glow-Up Appreciation Post”. The page was filled with comments fawning over him—talking about his “sharp jawline,” his “dark, mysterious aura,” and how “charming” he was during interviews.

Naturally, Steph sent the link to Cass with a laughing emoji. “Look at our boy, growing up into Gotham’s next heartbreaker,” she joked.

But as more and more of these comments popped up in the oddest places, Steph’s joking tone faded. Was Tim really the next heartthrob?

The realization hit Jason last, as most things concerning Tim usually did. He was scrolling through his usual online haunts, browsing forums that discussed Gotham’s vigilantes, when he stumbled on something unusual.

A post titled: Top 10 Reasons Why Red Robin is the Best Looking Vigilante in Gotham.

Jason almost clicked out of it immediately, assuming it was some kind of joke. But no. There were paragraphs. Analysis. Photos that somehow made Tim look like a damn model, even in his ridiculous Red Robin cape.

Jason scrolled through in disbelief, not sure what he was more stunned by: the fact that people were thirsting after Tim, or that someone had gone to this much effort to explain why he was hot.

“That’s it. The internet is officially broken,” Jason muttered to himself, before sending a screenshot to the family group chat with the caption: Since when did Tim become a fashion icon?

The real kicker, though, was Alfred. After weeks of the Batfamily casually throwing around jokes about Tim’s newly discovered “status,” Alfred finally made his observation one morning over breakfast.

“Master Timothy has always had a certain quiet charm about him,” Alfred said as he served coffee, completely unbothered by the ensuing chaos.

Dick, nearly spilling his coffee: “Wait, you knew about this? Why didn’t you say something?”

Alfred raised a brow. “It hardly seemed necessary. I assumed you all were already aware of Master Timothy’s appeal.”

Appeal. Appeal.

Jason was laughing so hard he had to leave the room, while Steph and Cass exchanged glances that said everything: they needed to re-evaluate everything about their little brother.

The whole Batfamily was still coming to terms with it. They joked, they teased, but there was an undeniable shift. When they looked at Tim now, they saw what others had apparently been seeing for years—a quietly confident, strikingly intelligent young man who had somehow grown into one of Gotham’s most eligible bachelors.

Of course, the moment that really sealed the deal came when Tim rode into the Batcave one evening on his Red Bird bike, wearing hastily thrown on stylish outfit—a black leather jacket, perfectly fitted jeans, and a shirt that gave him a casual, yet effortlessly cool look. Running a hand through his still damp hair, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

“Sorry, I’m running late. Got a date.”

For a moment, the Batfamily just stared.

Holy. Shit.

And then, as if on cue, Dick, Steph, Cass, Duke, Jason, and even Damian had the same thought at the same time: Oh my God, Tim Drake is the Batfamily’s biggest heartthrob.

The realization was almost too much to handle.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

What would the first years be like after 10 years?

What comes after Ever After?

You’ve seen Ace around on TV, but it’s the first time in a while you’ve gotten to see him in-person again. He’s become a jack-of-all-trades entertainer, host of his own variety show, stand-up comedian known for his cruel honesty, and master of magicless magic tricks. There’s not a day where you don’t see his annoyingly bright smile lighting up TV screens.

You’d think that 10 years would have made Ace a little more responsible and mature… Nope. He’s still a sunny and laidback kind of guy, but his sense of humor is still every bit as mean as it was back then, and he won’t hesitate to greet you with a familiar quip. Ace claims he’s “young at heart!” and “still a sparkling youth~!”

The fame has given him a bit of an ego and enhanced his vanity. Ace gloats about his connections in the show biz (did you know he interviewed THE Vil Schoenheit the other day?) and dresses in expensive brands.

He was bratty back then, but now he’s got carefree playboy vibes 😭 The kind of guy that laughs easily, that you feel comfortable talking to—but also the kind of guy that’s hard to pin down himself. Ace is nothing if not charmingly noncommittal in the tasks he sets out on.

When it comes down to it, Ace is loyal to the bitter end. He still has your number and regularly talks with you and Deuce, even pouting and whining if he goes a few days without a response. Ace insists he only does it because he “can’t forget the little people”, but you know it’s just a bluff.

It’s been a long journey for Deuce, but he has at long last achieved his dream of becoming a magic marshal! He’s a policeman in an elite force that tackles magical crimes (though he started off his career as a mere meter maid). He wears his badge proudly and stands a little straighter whenever it is on display.

Not much of an asset during investigations, but you bet your ass that Deuce is always up for chasing, cornering, and cuffing criminals! He's the muscle of his squadron, but also the heart of the group and the only guy willing to play good cop.

He prefers to patrol on his magical wheel as opposed to a police car. Deuce finds it so much speedier—and plus, he gets a rush of adrenaline whenever he’s revving up that engine and chasing down bad guys. If you want a ride, all you have to do is ask! Your old buddy would be more than happy to give you a lift. (He pulls over to help little old ladies cross the street.)

His earnest and hard-working nature have made him popular with the local mothers and grandmothers, who keep trying to gift him free food or trying to introduce him to their single relatives. The local delinquents also look up to him, affectionately calling Deuce their aniki. (On his days off, Deuce goes into schools to talk about his job and how he turned his life around, trying to serve as a good role model in his community.)

He carries around a photo of his mom and another photo featuring you, him, Grim, and Ace in his wallet. Deuce is in the habit so that he’s always got a piece of his beloved family and friends with him. They’re his good luck charms, and he credits them for his success in the force.

Jack is a personal trainer and coach! After his time at NRC, he was inspired by his upperclassmen and wanted to become the kind of person that’s able to support others in their growth, the very same way his own senpai did for him. Jack wants to continue that cycle for the next generation!

He has a reputation for being the “scary looking instructor with a heart of gold”. It takes his clients a while to get used to his face, but he supports them relentlessly and his results are definitely undeniable. Jack works with people of all ages—from kids to the elderly—and instills in them an eagerness to stay active. Some of the athletes Jack works with even went on the compete internationally!

His moral compass is still going strong. Jack actually tries to introduce a new value every month (like “valor”, “compassion”, “honesty”, etc.), incorporates it into training, and encourages his clients to take the time to reflect on what that value means and how they can practice it in their own lives. In this way, Jack not only strengthens their bodies but also enriches their minds and characters.

He maintains a lot of the habits formed around NRC, including going to bed at 10 pm on the dot and waking up at exactly 6 am every day for a protein-packed breakfast and a morning jog. More recently, Jack has added smiling practice and tail control to his regiment. He wants to be more approachable and to get a leash on that telltale wag that gives away his true feelings.

In spite of his best efforts, Jack visibly perks when he’s praised. The walls around his heart have relaxed a bit with time, and he has left the door open to let others in. He plays on adult team sports in his free time, or jogs and lifts weights with a partner spotting him, then they grab a bite together after. A good workout demands good company too, right? You should join him sometime!

He has settled back home in Harveston and helps out with the Felmier apple business! More specifically, Epel is the magical botanist of the family. He concocts various enchanted fertilizers and potions to help produce be at its best or to make the work easier for his village’s aging population.

Epel makes the long treks with his granny to the closest city to Harveston in order to sell his family’s products. (Travel by broomstick is faster than bike!) He hawks their goods like a real pro, his hollering reaching several blocks down. And if anyone gives his granny trouble, he’ll be there to give’m a good time whoopin’!

Thanks to Vil’s training and advice, Epel’s pretty comfortable in his own skin. He knows how to best weaponize his looks to get in an unfair blow in a fight and to make the most sales at the market. A fake smile, a little giggle, and he’s got his enemies disarmed and swooning, customers lining up for blocks, etc.

Unfortunately, he never got that growth spurt he was hoping for, and nor has he bulked up much. Epel's not exactly happy about the circumstances, but he tries to take care of himself in his own ways. For example, it may not be practical to stop and reapply sunscreen every 2 hours at the peak of apple-picking season, but he's got a wide-brimmed sunhat and gloves for the occasion!

His manners are impeccable! ... Well, given the right context. Epel knows when the common tongue is more appropriate (say, for a sale or speaking with tourists), but for friends, he'll bust out his warm and hearty hometown dialect. It's his way of letting you know he sees you as an important part of his family! Come, come! He’ll happily welcome you into his home and feed you to your heart’s content.

Meet the new Chief of Cybersecurity at S.T.Y.X.! Ortho works closely with his older brother (who has assumed the mantle of director from their father) and provides the highest levels of protection possible for their facilities. Along with overseeing security, he also vets and grants clearance to visitors to the Island of Woe.

He looks completely different thanks to his new and improved Cerberus Gear, specially designed to resemble the form of an adult! Combined with 10 years’ worth of knowledge and experience, Ortho has grown up mentally too, so he feels that he fills out this new gear quite well.

He’s accompanied wherever he goes by KB-RS01 and KB-RS02! Ortho has formally adopted them as his canine companions (humans would call them “pets”), but they also help him with surveillance as extra pairs of eyes and get paid in head pats.

He has mastered the art of imitating emotions and can now even synthesize others’ voices! Ortho uses these capabilities to play the occasional prank on the S.T.Y.X. researchers—it keeps the job interesting, and the employees love him for being a fun boss, the one spot of sunshine in the Island of Woe.

His protective functions have been upgraded! Check out this enhanced power laser beam, and all of his new gadgets and gizmos and extra attachments. He’s a one man army, so don’t cross him!

Sebek has achieved full knighthood and serves as one of Malleus’s right hand men. Along with his fellow knight, Silver, they protect Briar Valley and the noble Draconia bloodline. (Baur apparently cried at the knighting ceremony, but will deny it if you ask.)

Gone are the days where he would parade around shouting, “HUMAN!!” and belittling non-fae. Well… Okay, he still acts arrogantly, but there’s significantly less arrogance on the basis of race. Oh, he’ll still grouse, but he’ll also shout at you to aim for greater heights—he knows you’re capable of more than this.

Even though Sebek continues to respect Malleus a great deal, Sebek’s no longer so naive as to idolize his liege. Malleus is fallible and probe to straying into the darkness. Sebek sees that now. And when that happens… his loyal knight will be there with a firm hand and a thunderous voice to direct him back on his path.

He has developed a deeper appreciation for his human father, but won’t openly voice his affections out of embarrassment. Some would call this tsundere behavior— Instead, Sebek will (lovingly?) nitpick and find convenient excuses to help him out when applicable.

Still trains and reads diligently! In fact, Sebek has started a new record keeping initiative back home. That way, the people of Briar Valley can write down history, read it, learn from it, and keep from repeating the mistakes of their ancestors. He has also taken it upon himself to bring in reading materials from beyond Briar Valley to share with the youths of the nation. Sebek hopes that by spreading this knowledge, the next generation will open their hearts and minds to other cultures and races.

[faramirsonofgondor]

Watching Over the Waynes

AU where somehow it comes out that Jason is alive and while Wayne Industries is trying to do damage control for the public, some intern has the great idea of doing a reality TV documentary series thing (sort of like a mix between Keeping Up With Kardashians and The Office) to address the controversy and also show what the Waynes are like as a family. Bruce agrees because he thinks he’s agreeing to a family interview. None of them are prepared for the whole documentary crew to arrive, and Bruce spends three hours on the phone with his publicist trying to get out of it while crew awkwardly eats the food Alfred had hurriedly whipped up for them. Eventually, Bruce gives up and thus starts the family torture bonding session.

The first few episodes are supposed to center around Jason, who is determined to share nothing because this entire ordeal is embarrassing stupid and he hates the press. He does a good job of scowling at the camera and maintaining his stoicism up until someone (cough cough Dick) says he looks like Bruce when he does that (off camera of course, since no one sees Brucie Wayne as the brooding father figure they all know him to be) and then Jason does a complete 180 and pulls out all the dramatics. He even sheds a few tears as he recounts his amnesia and how horribly traumatic it was, and about how it’s hard to remember life before his “accident” but he still does have a few memories he could share with them (and if those memories are conveniently all times where Dick did something incredibly embarrassing - well that’s not Jason’s fault, is it?) From there they move onto the other members of the family and their perspective of Jason’s situation, what it was like when he came back, etc.

Eventually, once they’ve covered everything about Jason, they start asking about their day-to-day lives, what they like to do for fun, and all that other jazz. They were expecting to hear about the business, their jobs, maybe some philanthropy, and to the family’s credit - they do discuss it. But what’s more than is the small but significant moments they catch on camera, like how someone starts to bring up a topic and then seemingly remembers that they’re being recorded, and shuts down the conversation entirely. Or times when they asked about the scuff marks on the ceiling, and all they got in response was a tired sigh from Alfred and the words “that would be Master Dick’s doing, I’m afraid” they crew did not ask for a follow up (they were afraid, too). Or the time they swore they saw Damian chase someone with a sword through the house, but when they checked the footage it was blank.

There are also the odd, quirky personality traits that the family seems to exhibit - but only within the privacy of their own home. Dick walks around doing acrobatics - up until he remembers that other people are there, to which he awkwardly stops, waves, and then retreats. Tim walks around the manor at all hours of the night and day, sometimes talking to thin air (?) and when they ask the other members of the family they just go “it’s the sleep deprivation” without any other context, Damian keeps a whole menagerie of pets in the manor, and somehow keeps getting more as time passes (the crew is too scared to ask where he gets them from - they still remember the sword incident even if there’s no evidence of it), and it seems like sometimes members of the family will just… disappear (???) at night in teams or groups. Like, the crew will search the whole manor (in a non-creepy, authorized way) and they’re just not there (???)

As each episode airs the public starts making up more and more conspiracies about what the Waynes get up to at night (they run an underground criminal empire, they’re all secretly a bunch of dwarves stacked together pretending to be people and need to recharge their energy at night, they’re vigilantes, they’re all secret graffiti artists trying to one-up each other, etc. etc.) Eventually one of the crew members is bold enough to ask them directly, (un)fortunately for the family, the person they asked was Dick, who panicked slightly and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “we’re drag queens!”

The crew is, of course, skeptical of this answer. So Dick tries to save face by launching into a whole tangent about his drag persona. Dick’s persona is named Donna (he was panicking, okay!!). He has Tim photoshop his face onto photos of Donna to make it seem more believable (it does not work). The crew begins to question the other members of the family on their persona, and the only one who seems even slightly prepared to answer is Tim somehow (Tim did not explain to his family why he had women’s clothes and wigs - not that they asked, they were too busy panicking over trying to figure out their own personas). Steph decided that her drag king persona would be named Dick, much to everyone else’s amusement. She insisted it had nothing to do with Dick and that she just thought it was funny (despite opting to borrow Dick’s clothes for her performance). Cass was confused on the whole drag king/queen concept and followed Steph’s lead and dressed as Bruce. Jason, like Dick, panicked and said his persona was named Diana. Bruce, normally calm, was even more panicked because he was planning on claiming the name Diana and now he has to come up with something else (he decides on the name Lois).

Eventually the crew insists on accompanying them to whatever drag bar they go to in order to see them perform. Bruce and Jason start to sweat because while Dick and Tim might be able to do a passable performance, Jason and Bruce were tanks of men (did they even make dresses in their size ?). Somehow, they all manage to calm their nerves on the big night and get ready to perform, it’s all going well - Tim does a beautiful cover of “Lola” by The Kinks, Dicks flexibility and walk is fantastic, Steph does a hysterical Dick impersonation, Cass is… Cass, Jason’s acting skills are off the charts. Then comes Bruce’s turn, and just as he starts to get on stage, guess who shows up? The fucking Joker. Everyone starts panicking, and Bruce, who is not as coordinated as usual in his stripper platform heels, trips and sends one of his shoes flying. Straight into The Joker. The heel goes through his eye, killing him instantly. There’s a long silence, where nobody knows what to do, until someone in the crowd (Jason - though he’ll always deny it) starts chanting “Lois! Lois! Lois!” and eventually everyone joins in.

The episode airs and breaks streaming records. People beg the Waynes to visit Metropolis and do a reenactment of the whole ordeal - this time with Lex Luthor instead of the Joker. Lois Lane is one of those people. Clark pouts and says that he could do it, but Lois insists on her namesake doing it. Bruce just sighs and waits for the publicity to die down. It does not happen. The next JL meeting he attends he finds everyone dressed as his Lois persona, except for Diana who is very pointedly dressed as Jason.

Eventually he tries to do some more damage control by having an actual family interview about everything that happened. When the day comes, Bruce answers questions carefully insisting it was an accident. He dutifully ignores Lois Lane’s raised hand for the duration of the time (he can see the glee on her face and does not want to touch that with a ten foot pole). The other family members answer questions too, claiming that none of them would ever kill anyone on purpose. This statement holds less weight when, at the end of the interview conference, fucking Scarecrow shows up and Dick, in a panic, throws his microphone at him. The microphone goes through his eye, killing him instantly. The crowd goes wild. Everyone loves the Waynes.

[itisformythesis]

Please take this survey for my thesis!

What is this thesis?

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[threeacttragedy]

Entry 17: The One About All the Hot Air

Oh, hey, hey, hey – what is that over there?

No, not that –

That!

Ah, fuck.

Is that what I think it is?

Yeah, yeah, it looks like some sort of hot air balloon.

Ugh, it’s that fucking wannabe Wizard! Get that manipulative shit-fuck outta here!

Seriously, don’t let it set foot on land. It’s not welcome on this side of Oz.

Someone release the flying monkeys! Like, now. Knock it out of the sky.

Wait, I thought the Wizard liked green. This weirdo has a red balloon.

Bitch, I didn’t say it was the Wizard; I said it was a wannabe Wizard.

Oh, no wonder it’s steering that balloon like a fucking clown.

Hell, I don’t even think we need the monkeys. That idiot is going to crash and burn itself straight into the glass walls of the Emerald Palace.

Well, you know what they say when you start throwing stones in a glass house…

It is slightly amusing (and a tad concerning) to me that children are always led to believe that the villain of “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” is that bitch of a Witch of the West when the worst character traits are actually portrayed by the Wizard himself. And, by “worst character traits,” I mean that he was a master manipulator who conned an entire city into believing he held some form of great power.

Did you know that in the original story the Emerald City wasn’t really that green? Sure, it was made from green glass and emeralds, but the Wizard required everyone to wear green-colored glasses so that everything appeared greener than it actually was. Weird, that. And, even more weird, people bought it! “Here, put these glasses on and you’ll see everything exactly the way I want you to see it.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m fully aware “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” is a work of fiction, but the idea that people can be easily manipulated – especially by someone with “power” – is not fiction.

That’s what today’s piece of “hot air” is about – fandom manipulation and the power of suggestion. And who better to manipulate an entire fandom than the media? It’s unfortunate that I have to give the media power in this story – and even more unfortunate that I have to give it to rag-mags and social media – but the reality is information is power, regardless of whether it’s misinformation. In fact, MIT Sloan did a study in 2018 demonstrating how false information spreads through social media, namely, Twitter, six times faster than true information. Disturbing, right? I don’t even want to know what the going rate for misinformation is in 2025.

And, of course, since I opened today’s story with a visit to the Land of Oz, we may as well take a day trip over to Australia. Remember how I told you Australia deserved an entry of its own? Well, this is it. No, not really. I did say this was a day trip, not a sleep-over, so it’s not going to be chucked full of shiny bracelets or ways to “keep a good girl down.” It’s just our starting point today.

In my first entry, I briefly described what brought me into this fandom. It was something Luke said – and not really what he said, but how he said it – that left me intrigued. He was being interviewed on the Bowral red carpet by “Gretchen from the Philippines.” Yes, that’s literally how she introduced herself! Could I instead refer to the nice lady by her real name (Gretchen Fullido)? Sure, but “Gretchen from the Philippines” is far more fun. Plus, it sounds kind of whimsical. Any ways, Gretchen (from the Philippines) asked Luke if, “in real life,” he’d support friends-to-lovers. Luke’s response was, well, a bit jumbled, which was what sparked my curiosity because his previous answers that day were, for the most part, articulate: “I would – I would support friends – I feel like it’s not something that – that I have in my li – that I resonate with – that I’ve experienced. But, you know, if my – if my friends wanted to explore a relationship with one their friends, go for it. I’ll support it.”

Something in the way Luke answered that question was like suddenly being able to see the forest for the trees. At that moment, I was convinced Luke had always been in love with Nicola, and everything else that went on during that particular red-carpet event (and thereafter) simply christened the USS Lukola. However, that comment by Luke – and a subsequent one he made in New York – would result in the addition of a lot of trees to our enchanted forest.

Now – I apologize – we need to borrow a hot air balloon, preferably one that can travel through time, and jump forward to November 5, London-time. I promise, we will return to Oz momentarily.

Oh, fuck.

What now?

That ridiculous faux Wizard is right behind us. I thought I told you to send in the monkeys!

Dammit, you said we didn’t need them! I left those fuckers back in Oz.

Well, umm, I think we might need them now.

Why??

Uhh, do you see those four-legged beasts on the ground chasing our balloon?

Oh, you mean those coyote-like creatures?

Yeah, but we’re not in the Americas – and those ain’t coyotes…

Ah, here we are: November 5, Claridge’s, London. This was the evening Nicola attended the Harper’s Bazaar Women of the Year awards. We’re only stopping in real quick to steal a piece of the speech Nicola gave that evening. Okay, got it! Let’s get the fuck out of here!

The part of the speech I wanted to share was this: “I did a six-month press tour for Bridgerton, the show which I love, and I’m so proud of. The amount of inappropriate questions I got asked about my appearance, about my relationship…”

Hold up. Relationship? What relationship?

Did she say “relationship” or “relationships?”

Does it fucking matter?

Well, I guess not. But what does it mean?

I could tell you what I think it means… Wait a hot-air-balloon-minute – where the fuck have you taken us? I told you we needed to go back to April 21, Aussie-time. This looks like Soho in January.

Shit, sorry. Let me fix that. Here we go…

>>> 

Umm, hey, where’s that weird little red Wizard? I swear it was just behind us…

Eh, probably got stuck in Soho, hahaha. Guess it missed its exit.

Do you think that’s a good idea?

Yeah, sure. It’ll be fine…

We’ve returned to April 21, Bowral, Australia. Now, at this point in the timeline, World Tour interviews were already well underway. In fact, the first two parts of EmEdits on YouTube are entirely pre-Australia interviews, making up roughly 6 ½ hours of screen time. I’m not the least bit surprised that “Gretchen from the Philippines” asked Luke what his thoughts were on “real life” friends-to-lovers. The chemistry between Luke and Nicola was hard to ignore.

The Australian red carpet also introduced the hand holding, which – if we took another magical mystery tour over to May 9, Italy – Nicola and Luke agreed was a sign of “love.” I suppose I could buy the excuse that one or both had so much anxiety they needed the other’s hand to remain calm on the red carpet. But, nah, I wouldn’t buy that at all – for one very specific reason. When Luke and Nicola were seen leaving (I believe) the Milton Park Country House on April 23, Luke instinctively reached for Nicola’s hand as they were descending the steps. Why? This reflex by Cool Hand Luke was as natural as a pregnant woman touching her stomach. I ask again – why?

There’s only one answer.

It’s the answer that fits with the Claddagh ring. It’s the answer that fits with the side jaunt to Galway. It’s the answer that fits with their natural chemistry, the hand holding, the canned “shared experience” and “unique relationship” responses, the playful sexual innuendos. It’s the answer that fits with Luke’s “the best foundation for love is friendship” bracelet. It’s the answer that fits with Nicola’s remark about “[t]he amount of inappropriate questions I got asked…about my relationship…” It’s the only fucking answer that makes sense.

But, the real kicker is, why don’t people believe that is the answer?

Why is it so hard to believe that Luke and Nicola could be in a real-life relationship?

That’s easy – because the Man Behind the Curtain told us so.

Who is the Man Behind the Curtain? Well, that’s also easy. It’s collectively the rag-mags and the social media creators on the prowl for a following. It’s the spread of misinformation at its worst and it’s so incredibly easy to do with, say, a pair of green-colored glasses.

Like I said, “…put these glasses on and you’ll see everything exactly the way I want you to see it.”

There was one major plot twist that came out of the World Tour, and you already know what that is. The seed was planted with a New Year’s Eve kiss, fertilized with blurry pictures, a compulsory hallway hug, and copycat photos, and encouraged to grow with a bit of junk news and a lot of social media innuendo. Now, I’m not saying the video and photographic evidence that was presented was fabricated; I’m simply suggesting the narrative that came out that evidence was skewed. The media, namely, social media creators, pushed us to plant Lutonia trees while Luke’s actions (i.e., not acknowledging the existence of Lutonia) told us to “pay no attention to the Man Behind the Curtain.”

Uh, so, what you’re saying is we shouldn’t have left that wannabe Wizard in Soho?

Ah, shit! I forgot about that fucker!

The unfortunate thing about the Lutonia narrative was that it was bolstered by insinuation that Luke would never be interested in Nicola. Now, whether these remarks were deliberately planted, or they were simply seedpods carried away by a storm, they were not overlooked by Lukolas – or Nicola. In fact, Nicola herself brushed upon it in her Harper’s Bazaar speech: “The amount of inappropriate questions I got asked about my appearance…” Yes, I’m referring to the suggestion that Luke preferred “brunettes” over “blondes.” Somehow this narrative was conveniently supported by the existence of – lo and behold! – the brunette “friend of a friend” Antonia, who happened to be slender. Again, whether it was intentional or not, the push by, initially, social media creators (and later gossip rags) to link Luke to Antonia inadvertently called the blonde in our story – Nicola – fat. I refuse to dance around that word because it is exactly what this disgusting narrative implied when it chose to compare Antonia to Nicola. Regardless of whether these gossipmongers “corrected” themselves by replacing “thin” with “brunette” and “fat” with “blonde,” the implication was that Luke would never be interested in Nicola because she had thick blonde hair. This was incredibly upsetting and confusing to many Lukolas because it was contrary to Luke’s behavior towards Nicola throughout the World Tour (and in Bridgerton behind-the-scenes clips).

I decided months ago that Luke was incredibly transparent. And, by that, I mean he’s terrible at keeping secrets. Luke himself admitted his “tell” to this was pulling at his ear – now go watch the World Tour with that information in mind. It’ll give you something to do, at the very least. Luke’s sincerity is also why the blonde versus brunette nonsense just doesn’t take flight for me. Any ways, as I hinted at earlier, Luke’s comments on the Bowral red carpet and his later comments in New York City about friends-to-lovers would – again, unfortunately – give the Man Behind the Curtain ammunition to debunk any real-life relationship between Luke and Nicola. Luke was quickly labeled as being “…dismissive of something ever happening between him and Nicola…” Those are literally the words The Tab used in an article dated May 22 to explain Luke and Nicola’s differing commentary about real-life friends-to-lovers. In fact, the article is titled, “Luke Newton has revealed the reason he’d never date Bridgerton co-star Nicola Coughlan.” Oddly – but not really given the source – Luke never actually said he would never date Nicola. But that fact didn’t stop it from becoming a theme of the World Tour – Luke didn’t believe in friends-to-lovers therefore he would never date Nicola – even though, by the end of the tour, Luke’s stance on this had seemingly changed. That’s not to say the rag-mags misquoted Luke – they didn’t – but the narrative they coiled around his words attempted to shut down the idea that Luke and Nicola would ever date in real life because Luke wasn’t interested. But what Luke was saying was that he believed in love-at-first sight. “I actually don’t think friends-to-lovers is something that happens in my life. If I meet someone, I know immediately.” Now, take that statement with the fact that Luke has repeatedly stated he remembers everything about the moment he met Nicola.

The above examples of gossip and innuendo are simply par for the course. The media manipulates facts all the time – whether it be through social media chatter or rag-mags putting their own spin on ordinary commentary – but this type of manipulation is not what puts the fandom in danger of itself. In fact, most of the gossip and innuendo that took root during the World Tour would have dissipated almost immediately after it ended – if it hadn’t been for Papsmear.

Yeah. That was disastrous.

Come to think of it, it was awfully convenient, too, don’t you think?

Absolutely. And you know what else was convenient? That little wannabe Wizard was –

Oh, yeah, I heard that, too! That clown has been trying to hand out green-colored glasses ever since!

Yep. Tried to give me a pair and I told it to go fuck itself and its little glass cat, too. I mean, they weren’t even name brand glasses. Fake ass, bitch.

All jesting aside, if you haven’t noticed already, I do, on occasion, use my writing to call out the fandom, usually as a whole. I mean, we are in this together, right? Actually, no; we ceased being Collectively Delulu after a few unsavory characters were bitten by the Hunter’s Moon and followed Nicola through the streets of New York and London. There was a major – and rather unexpected – shift in the fandom when the rabid Jakolas appeared from the dark corners of our enchanted forest. And I’m sure you’ve realized at this point in my story that I have one particular – oh, shit, I just realized I don’t even know to which fandom our wannabe Wizard belongs. Ruh-roh. Regardless, that motherfucker is in my peep sight because it is a perfect example of how fandom manipulation has reached a new level of toxicity.

Typically, I don’t care what part of the fandom you’re on. My general attitude is, to each their own. If you’re a Jakola and you find yourself spending an average of 15 minutes each week reading my Lukola blog, I applaud you for peeking outside of the den hole. Best not let Alpha find out, though. It’s all in good fun, right? I often find myself getting a good laugh from Jakola stories, especially when they theorize on the Woman Behind the Curtain. Question, though – did you find her? In all seriousness, if I didn’t consider Jakola and Lutonia perspectives, I would be borderline Conscientiously Stupid, now, wouldn’t I? After all, the desire for knowledge is what ultimately gave our Scarecrow his brain.

However, what I don’t find “in good fun” is when social media creators prey on more than one side of the fandom under phony pretense, namely, that they “just want Nicola to be happy.” Oh, these Cowardly Lions may argue that they’re simply being “neutral” – and, yes, I’m sure some instances of this do exist – however, neutrality does not embrace openly ridiculing one fandom over another, especially on a platform that is touted by its owners as being a “safe space” for everyone. The problem with these so-called “neutral creators” is that they’re only here for social media engagement – the clicks and the giggles – and they defect to the other side when the going gets tough. If you, too, take issue with this kind of creator, be soothed in knowing that when you play two sides, you find yourself with two-times the number of enemies.

What makes these so-called “neutral creators” – actually, let’s just call them the “Defectors” – so poisonous to the fandom is that they are made from the grease drippings found at the bottom of the barrel of the Conscientiously Stupid. The Conscientiously Stupid are one thing – they are the ones using their platforms to spread misinformation because they choose to ignore exculpatory evidence (i.e., they’re headstrong in their beliefs) – but the Defectors are typically the ones creating the misinformation and feeding it to the Conscientiously Stupid and then hanging them out to dry when the information proves to be false. The Conscientiously Stupid who refuse to “lose the battle” then resort to bullying (more so than usual) the Sincerely Ignorant of an opposing fandom. And in defense of their Sincerely Ignorant comrades (or simply because they’re sick and tired of the Conscientiously Stupid preventing anyone from having nice things), the Fact Finders – unceremoniously, I might add – have taken their own place on the battlefield (oh, yes, they are absolutely your tactical commanders). Now, the entire fandom is at war with each other – all because some wannabe Wizard – a Defector – convinced people to look through a pair of shiny, green-colored glasses. More than once.

Is it appropriate – or perhaps a bit catty – to put “ceasefire” here?

Ah, yes, well, uh, we have found ourselves a bit far from Oz at this point, haven’t we?

I suppose – but we are trying to help Dorothy find her way back home, and at least we now have an idea as to how she got lost.

Maybe one day we will get her back to Kansas.

Yeah, maybe.

Oh, silly me! I forgot to sneak in a sly reference to Dorothy’s third companion – the Tin Man! He’s perfect for the end of our story. You know, in the book, the Wizard was just an ordinary man who stumbled into his Ozian existence on a magnificent hot air balloon and took advantage of the power that Emerald citizens bestowed upon him. Yeah, yeah, yeah, the Wizard preyed on the naïve using deception and the power of suggestion and invoked fear in anyone who dared to question his authority –

Uh, where are you going with this?

Give me a minute!

Like I said – shit, where was I? – Oh, yes, the Wizard was just an ordinary man, and ordinary people are flawed. We all make mistakes. This is where our Tin Man comes in as he represents love and empathy. Yes, empathy; the ability to put yourself in someone else’s shoes, to understand and forgive, to take into consideration someone’s redeeming qualities –

You know that Wizard defected in his hot air balloon before taking Dorothy home, right?

Wait, what?

Okay, okay. It was Toto’s fault but the Wizard sure as shit didn’t come back for her!

Hmm, you’d almost think Toto knew the Wizard’s true colors all along…

“Au revoir, Wiz.”

[rafry]

Euclydia, Cults and Need for Control

Disclaimer: this analysis raises sensitive topics. if you are/were a victim of a cult and the topic triggers you, please refrain from reading further(/seek help). Additionally, I am not a specialist on said topic, nor am I a clinician. But I am a survivor, so part of the narrative may or may not be just me projecting the trauma on a silly yellow triangle. That said, reader discretion is advised! :)

The take: Euclydia is likely to be a cult-like society and the reason Bill, after years of abuse, grows up to be as he is: a power-hungry monster. Let's analyze!

For the starters, The Start. Each state has its own anthem. How lucky that we were kindly provided with the Euclidian hymn (hidden under the code "FORGETTHEPAST")! Lets take a look:

"Two dimensions to and from, You always know which way to go If you're lost, don't be afraid, In Euclydia you've got it made! Run too far too right of frame, You'll appear on left again! Jump too high, don't fry or fret, You'll pop up from the ground, I bet! In this place there is no fear, Roles and rules, always clear, Euclydia, we hold you dear…"

That tells us way more than we could've asked for, really. The most important: Euclydia is a state of Clear Rules™. Everything works perfectly thanks to The Rules and The Roles, and the state is loved by it's citizens. It's might be a caricature 2D utopia, but how it reacts when the rules are questioned?

"Eye doctor of a different kind, who wants to make his patient blind The doctor says: 'three sips a day will make the visions go away' Fussy eater, baby Billy Wouldn't drink unless it's silly..."

If there's anything about cults and the way they make people behave, is that the "wrong" ones in the community are usually ostracized and/or heavily medicated to not cause any troubles. Those people are sometimes called 'heretics', but may as well just be called crazy or insane by their peers. Oh look completely unrelated picture:

"Cipher, Cipher, he's insane Starting fires with his brain"

Honestly, the other time it would be it. Euclydia, if not Is, then sure does Act like a cult in some way. I could've finished here, easily, but there's something missing, isn't?

"The hell do you mean by 'The Need to Control', OP?"

I mean that the BILLVILLE is important.

There's the thing about trauma survivors: some of us, after living a life with no control over ones societal position (ostracization/isolation), body (forcibly medicated) or even mind (feeling of inadequacy), crave for some form of control to be regained.

It can turn toxic very quickly when the only form of control one has ever seen in their life is being The Leader (cult leader/shitty parent/armageddon overlord/you get the idea, it's about becoming an authority figure).

And so, Bill becomes a cult leader! Very possibly covering up the need for control and admiration with what I call "The most inefficient way to build an Interdimentional Portal ever", since, well, he's got to lie to himself every now and then, that's his thing (trauma response).

As for the details:

He uses the dead mans body — the body that wouldn't cause any resistance, thus being perfect for taking under control.

He sees the position of the interviewer as more authoritative than the position of the interviewee — and he swaps the roles. That wasn't enough though, so he demands (politely) to be called "My Lord And Master" for a good measure.

He very possibly recreates some of Euclydia-like order in his own "Town" in terms of expressing individuality. They might've been pretty decent in following scripts, I think.

So, I don't think Euclydia has ever been religious in any way, since that would left some other scars on Bills psyche for sure. But highly authoritative, ignorant, strict in its rules to the point of self-damnation? That checks. That's the place that has formed Bill, after all.

That's the place that he wishes to rebuild.

Maybe not consciously, maybe distorted by his illness and broken memory of a loving-paradise-home that has never actually been that way, but he seeks the comfort of familiarity — most of us do. Familiar stings are better than an uncontrollable too-bright future, isn't?

I hope he does well on therapy.

[floodflameschosen]

"I’ve wanted this since the moment I met you."

with noah please 😊

CW: fluff and softness. shy, reserved noah. that's it.

i guess i was in my feelings here. hope you enjoy this, anon.

It all started with a Help Wanted sign and a bad breakup.

You weren’t even looking for a job that day, just needed a distraction—something to fill the weird feeling that settles after your life changes in a way no one else really notices.

The sign was taped crookedly to the window of a record store tucked between a coffee shop and a tattoo parlor, and something about it just felt right, like the universe had carved out a soft place for you to land after the crash. Maybe it was the vintage posters in the display, maybe it was the smell of old paper and vinyl that drifted out when the door opened as a customer walked out.

Maybe it was fate.

You’d only meant to ask if the position was still open. Noah was the one who interviewed you.

He looked like he belonged there—tall, black hoodie rolled at the sleeves, long hair messily tied, ink curling up his arms and neck, pen tucked behind his ear, eyes attentive and unreadable. He asked if you knew the difference between analog and digital mastering, and you said yes, even though it was a lie.

He then handed you a crate of used vinyls and told you to alphabetize them. You did—quietly, carefully, like that stupidly simple task was the most important thing in the world right now and you had something to prove.

There was something quiet and unreadable in the way he watched you do it, but in the end, you passed the test. 

He trained you over the next few weeks—serious and half-distracted, like his mind was always somewhere else. He didn’t say much, barely smiled, barely even talked unless it was about restocking or the stereo setup. At first, you thought he didn’t like you, but then you figured you were just a responsibility he hadn’t asked for.

But as time passed, you noticed the way his fingers lingered when he handed you sleeves, the way he’d steal quick glances when he thought you weren’t looking. You started to understand him in pieces—through the way he’d light up when a rare pressing came in, or the reverent way he talked about certain albums, like music itself was sacred.

And then there were the people who made him soften.

Nicholas, one of the tattoo artists from the parlor next door, stopped by almost every afternoon—sometimes with coffee, sometimes just to bug him—and every single time, Noah’s whole posture would change. He’d grin, roll his eyes and laugh at whatever dumb joke Nick cracked, and lean against the counter like he actually knew how to relax.

It was warm, open, like he was letting himself be young and unserious for a second.

Same with Vincent, the owner of the store—who only showed up now and then, usually to drop off something or talk shop. But every time he did, Noah would perk up, eyes brighter, tone lighter. Vincent treated him like a little brother, ruffled his hair sometimes, gave him hell with affection tucked into it—and Noah, for all his usual quiet edges, melted under it. Not obviously, just in the way his shoulders dropped, in the little smile that lingered even after Vincent left.

You liked seeing that version of him: the soft one. The one who didn’t try so hard to stay cool or guarded or a million miles away at all times. It made you wonder what it might feel like to be the reason he softened like that.

And then one night, during your first inventory count after your second month at the shop, things sort of shifted.

The lights were low, the shop was closed—inventory always happened after hours, Noah said. You were crouched near the jazz section with a clipboard when you heard the soft scratch of a needle dropping, followed by a gritty, pulsing track that filled the space like smoke.

Guitars, heavy drums, a voice that sank into your bones.

“Hey,” you called without looking up, fingers stilling. “I like that. Who’s playing?”

Silence.

You glanced over your shoulder.

Noah stood behind the counter, head ducked, messing with the stereo like it suddenly wouldn’t cooperate. He mumbled something you didn’t catch.

“What?”

He cleared his throat, still not meeting your eyes.

“It’s, uh. My band.”

Your brows shot up.

“Wait. Seriously?”

He finally glanced at you, and there was this flush creeping up his neck, all the way to his ears.

“Yeah. That’s me singing. And I wrote most of this EP.”

You blinked. Then blinked again.

“Holy shit, Noah. You’re really good.”

His mouth twitched like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to grin or hide under the counter.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, fiddling with the volume like he needed something to do with his hands. “Didn’t think it was your thing.”

He looked at you then, and it wasn’t unreadable anymore—it was vulnerable. Shy, even. And maybe something more. Something that made your breath catch even as you looked away, as if you hadn’t felt it crawl beneath your skin.

It was supposed to be just a stupid job. A paycheck. A distraction.

But then came more of those late nights at the store. More of the music. More of Noah.

The quiet rituals you created without meaning to—takeout cartons stacked on the counter, his drink order memorized, the stereo always spinning something one of you picked to share. Something worth talking about, worth pausing for. He’d play you a track and watch your reaction instead of listening to the song himself.

You’d do the same when it was your turn, hoping he liked what you chose to introduce that week. Hoping it meant something.

You stopped pretending you didn’t notice how close he stood sometimes. How his arm would brush yours when you both stood behind the counter, how his knee would knock gently against yours when you sat side by side on the floor, counting sleeves, arguing about genre tags.

You think he also stopped pretending he didn’t notice the way your eyes lingered a little too long at times, or how your laughter softened just for him.

And now?

Now it’s getting harder to ignore the way your heart stutters every time his fingers brush yours. The way your breath catches when he leans in to point at something on the screen, his voice low and close in your ear. The way his gaze drops to your mouth sometimes—brief, involuntary, guilty.

It’s definitely not just a job anymore.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

Tonight, the bell over the shop door had long stopped jingling, the lights dimmed to just the warm golden ones over the counter and along the back wall.

Outside, the street was empty. Inside, the air was filled with the smell of noodles and sweet sauce from the takeaway between two open laptops, receipts fanned out like playing cards.

You were cross-legged on the rug near the speaker, chewing slowly, eyes fluttering shut at the first crackle of the vinyl you just set spinning.

Noah leaned against the counter, watching you.

“Which one is this again?” He asked, sipping the drink he held in one big hand, the other twirling a pen over his tattooed knuckles.

“Blue Valentine,” you said softly. “You said you were in the mood for something kind of sad, right? This one’s sad, but not tragic.”

He smiled softly.

“Sounds about right.”

You tapped a few keys on your laptop, scrolling through inventory lists, the background melody weaving between the keys. After a minute, Noah took a seat beside you with a little grunt, his knee brushing yours.

You didn’t move.

“Still not sick of this?” He asked, not looking at you, his voice low. “Staying late, I mean. Doing boring paperwork to occasionally sad music.”

You glanced over at him, mouth curling up at the corners.

“No. This is my favorite part of the month, actually.”

That made him glance your way, slow. Something shifted behind his eyes, but then he just hummed, looked back at the screen of your laptop.

“Yeah. Mine too.”

And for a moment, neither of you moved or said anything else. The crackling music filled the silence, and the air between you was charged—the kind of static that buzzed louder than any song.

You went back to work in silence, but not long passed before you felt his gaze on you again. When you turned to meet it, your breath caught.

There was something there, a question hanging in the space between your bodies. Nothing loud, or urgent. Just waiting.

The kind of question Noah would never ask out loud.

Not because he didn’t feel it—God, you could see that he did—but because he was too careful with things that mattered. Too guarded, too quiet. Maybe even a little scared. He held his wants like fragile records, tucked deep in sleeves where they couldn’t be scratched.

So if anything was going to happen—really happen—you knew it had to come from you. You were going to have to lean in first.

You were going to have to answer the question for him.

With that in mind, you reached out, fingers brushing against his hand, tentative yet deliberate. He didn’t pull away—instead, his fingers curled around yours, warm and steady. Your heart pounded, the world narrowing down to the two of you, the soft glow of the shop lights, and the music that had become your middle ground.

Noah glanced down at your joined hands, then back up. His thumb moved in a slow stroke across your knuckles, and he gave the gentlest tug.

Another silent question.

A quiet please.

You leaned in first—just far enough to meet him halfway—and he met you with a breath that trembled. His lips touched yours, hesitant and warm, and then firmer, more certain when you didn’t pull back.

You kissed him back.

It was soft, slow. The kind of kiss that made time fold in on itself. His hand slid to your jaw like he was afraid to press too hard, like he wanted to memorize the shape of you—here, now, finally.

You melted into him, your own hand settling against his chest, feeling the thump of his heart beneath the fabric of his hoodie. He was shaking just a little.

When he pulled back, barely, just enough to breathe against your lips, he whispered it like a secret:

“I’ve wanted this since the moment I met you.”

You kissed him again before he could second-guess it. Slower this time, deeper.

He tasted like noodles and sweet sauce and something just him—something warm and familiar, like comfort you didn’t know you’d been reaching for until now.

Yeah, you think. Maybe I’d wanted this since the very beginning, too.

tag list: @concretejunglefm @defuckingthrone-dot-com @fadingangelwisp @ami--gami @lacy1986 @flowery-mess @tosoundlessdarkistare

[sleepinghypnos]

The Creed...

Chapter 1 - Penthouse

Genre: Smut

Tags: F/M, F/F/M, F/F/F/M, Facefuck, Throatfucking Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Harem, Self-degradation, Masochism/Sadism(?), Cum Play, Piss Play

(The things in the tags will be present when the time needs for it.)

Disclaimer: This work is a fan-fiction and does not depict the person/people mentioned in the story.

A/N: You can self-insert if you want...

--

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

"What is it? I'm preoccupied, so make it quick." Vlad answered the call.

"Fine. Just send them to my house... but I will not be responsible if something happens to them." He replied with his slightly deep voice and end the call.

*Silenced Gunshot*

"Blame your competitor, not me." Vlad immediately packed up his sniper rifle and fled the scene while remembering what one of his close associates in the entertainment industry said few moments ago, he begged him to accommodate a number of female K-pop idols for the purpose of strengthening the bond between idols through a experimental project wherein they live together as Tenants, cameras will not be present just them living together and at the end of their time as tenants they will do an interview regarding the way of life living with other k-pop idols aside from their respective members. In this way, the fandoms of each k-pop group will stop fighting over trivial things on the internet and support other idols.

Vladimir Creed was a 26 year old Half-European and Half-American man. His parents died in a car accident when he was still a child and only his grandfather is his only family left. He's living a lavish lifestyle full of money, expensive cars and women...

His family or more like his grandfather founded a huge company in America and owns many stocks in the entertainment industry in Korea and since Vlad is not someone who actively makes himself noticeable or well-known, he parties without revealing his true identity to anyone with a few exception of course, he has few actual friends and all of them are also young masters of their own families just like he was and he rarely expresses his emotions so he has a hard time managing it.

In his typical days, he spends most of his time just relaxing in his penthouse, in which he bought himself with his own money. though it may seem strange since he parties every chance he get, he has a very unique talent and that is being a hired gun that even his grandfather didn't know.

And while relaxing, he usually goes naked after a shower because there is no one in the house, It's is personal space after all. His maids and butlers will only come if they were asked for and he cooks for himself.

His penthouse is in a small island near the coast and there is only one bridge connected to it. So, guests who'll visit the island can use the bridge without the need of boats.

...

Vlad arrived at his house but welcomed by cars parked near the main gate. "What the fuck is this?" He said to himself, he got out of his car to check what's going on then he remembered Eunseok, one of his close associates said few hours ago. "Now it makes."

Then he called one of the guards to let him pass, and so they did. He drove and the people blocking the path dispersed and he got in smoothly.

"Let them in, they are going to live here indefinitely." Vlad announced to the guards and went inside to change.

Most of the people outside the penthouse are already inside the living area, he saw the k-pop idols waiting for the master of the house.

"I'm Vladimir Creed, but you can call me Vlad. I'm the owner of this house, my friend already told me what you guys are going to do. So feel free live here." and he looked at managers of each of the group "There are places in the house that is not available, I don't care if they used the swimming pool, drink at the bar." Pointing at the wet bar near the kitchen. "Or anything, but, all of third floor is off limits because that's where my room is located."

The producer nodded and introduce the idols that will be living with him in the house.

He extended his hand for a handshake to ITZY's Yuna and Ryujin, Aespa's Karina and Winter, (G)-Idle's Soyeon and Miyeon, Red Velvet's Irene, Seulgi, and Joy, and Twice's Sana, Mina, and Nayeon which they received with a smile.

--

One day has passed, the girls are eating lunch in the long refectory table since they woke up late just like Vlad was and the maids and butlers were there to assist them.

After lunch, the Red Velvet and Twice members were gathered in the backyard, enjoying a beautiful sunny day by the pool. They were relaxing and chatting about their recent performances, when they suddenly heard a splash from the pool.

Curious, they all turned to see Nayeon filling up a water gun and aimed at them. Panic set in as they scream and run around the pool to avoid getting wet since they just want to enjoy the sun.

Running made them exhausted and they decided to have a friendly water fight. Joy and Seulgi teamed up against Sana and Mina, Nayeon and Irene. Laughter and screams filled the air as they chased each other around the pool, trying to get each other wet

In the living room, Ryujin and Karina were sharing a bucket of ice cream while watching a romantic K-drama. They were joined by Soyeon and Miyeon, who couldn't resist the delicious smell of the popcorn. They all cuddled under a blanket, enjoying the show and teasing each other about their favorite characters. Yuna and Winter are busy doing some tiktok challenge.

As the sun set, the members of ITZY, Aespa, and (G)-Idle joined their sun-kissed Seniors in the pool. They all gathered around the pool, sharing stories, and having a heart-to-heart conversation. For a moment, the backyard was filled with the sound of their laughter and friendship.

As the night came, they all gathered in the living room to watch a movie together. They munched on some snacks and cuddled on the couch, enjoying their time together. It was a perfect day off for all of them, a day filled with laughter, bonding, and memories that they will cherish forever.

Karina asked the butler where Vlad was and she was led to the study where he spends time if he's not doing anything.

When Karina entered the study, she was met with a tall, imposing figure staring at her from behind a large oak desk. Vlad's dark hair was slicked back, and he exuded a sense of power and mystery. Karina couldn't help but feel a pull towards him, she already know that this man is handsome the moment she land her eyes on him earlier in the morning.

"Um, Sir? I just want to asked if we can have some of the liquor in the wet bar." She asked while slowly approaching him.

"Didn't I told you girls that you can do whatever you want with the wet bar?" He answered and walked to towards her. "And you're asking me when you already half drunk."

Karina got embarrassed but it faded when a faint smile appeared on Vlad's lips, she was mesmerized. "Are you sure that's the reason why you're here?" he was close to her, Karina needs to look up just to meet his eyes.

Karina pulls him for a kiss and reciprocated it with the same intensity. It started as vanilla kissing until in turns into something like animals in heat and eventually began to make out with insane passion. Vlad grab her waist to pull her closer, her hands were hugging his neck.

He noticed she wanted more and so he obliged and brought one hand to feel up her breasts which made Karina moan between their kisses.

Their kiss was passionate, Vlad keeping her in his arms while she let herself be consumed by him. It lasted for few minutes until they both stopped quietly staring at each other.

"D-did you like it?" Karina said while catching her breathe.

"I did, your lips are sweet with a hint of whiskey... you really were half drunk." Brushing his thumb on her lips. "Want me to lead this time?" he asked her while caressing her face.

"Yes, please." Karina said.

“Do you think could handle it?” Vlad responded seemingly showing concern.

Karina nodded. “I did have my own few boyfriends before...”

“I won't doubt it but... I get rough. Really rough. I'm sure it's something you haven't experience before..."

“You are worrying about me and that's sweet but I think I'm gonna be fine... please don't hold back and just give it to me.” She said while making a serious face.

Vlad's hand roam towards her neck and stayed there and slowly gripping it. Her cunt throb as they kiss again and slowly stripping each other’s clothes off, his hands still in her neck slightly choking her.

As their bodies got liberated from their clothing, Vlad immediately attacks Karina's big breasts making her moan, her hands couldn't resist to push his head closer. His other hand goes to Karina's precious treasure and starts invading it.

"This fucking slutty tits of yours keeps leering people on." Vlad said while groping her breasts and assaulting them with his tongue...

"Fuck! Yes! It feels good, sir." Karina said.

Which made Vlad riled up even more. "Sir?" He stopped groping her breast.

"You don't like being called like that? I'll change it." She said while pleading to continue to pleasure her.

He doesn't like getting called Daddy/Oppa. The women he's been with keeps calling him that and he got bored by it, now he prefers to called by his name but this time around is different.

Sir? of all the things that someone can be called... Sir is the one getting him riled up.

"No, keep it that way... now get on your knees whore." Vlad said with a commanding aura. “I’m going to use your mouth as a fleshlight. Pull my cock out.”

Karina didn't expect the monster hiding beneath his pants. She could see the bulge of his massive cock. Now she knows why he said 'Something she haven't experience before.' because it's true. He is much bigger than the guys she's been with. So much bigger. She feels hotter and hotter than usual.

Vlad's dick stands proud at 10 inches and is almost girthy as a water bottle.

“You are so massive, fucking massive!” Karina said as she freed his cock and hit her in the face. She stare at his huge member mesmerized by it.

“My god! Why are you so big? Can you even use this?” She said as she grabbed his cock with with both hands. "And you're going to use my mouth with this thing?"

"What? Are you scared? I told you I'm rough and I mean it." He said seriously. "You are going to take every inch of my cock in your throat whether you like it or not."

Karina got nervous but her lust towards him is much heavier.

She showered his cock with kisses, admiring every inch, as if she's worshipping his massive member.

"Suck it." And she did, she gives him a slow and sensual blowjob, keeping her eyes on him.

"You came in her just to do that?"

“What do you mean, Sir?”

He grabbed her by the hair she opened her mouth and swallowed as much of him as she possibly could.

COUGH COUGH COUGH

Relaxing her throat as she let his girthy cock push through her throat. She struggled for a minute and he's watching her giving herself to him.

Vlad guides her and she bobbed her head up and down to see how deep she could take him over and over and over again. Her eyes were tearing up, saliva dripping down as she takes his girthy cock in her throat.

She taps his legs but Vlad ignored her protests and stayed in her throat. "I told you, I'm rough... you don't know what you get yourself into."

He is fucking her throat with reckless abandon and not caring if she can still breathe. Few seconds more and he let go and she breathe hastily. "Sh-shit! I almost passed out." She coughs. "Fuck!"

"Just accept your role as my slut from now on." He slaps her face with his massive heavy cock.

He forced his cock back into her throat. She gives in, letting this man use her mouth and throat as a fleshlight. Her eyes were rolled back into her head.

GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK

Her moaning and gagging sounds filled the study, the moonlight touches her silky white skin enhancing her beauty further while her throat is getting violated. Even though she already accepted her fate, she still needs to breathe and she tried to struggle for air but failed.

“MMMPPHKKKK!” She resists and got ignored.

“Just stay there, don't regret your decisions now.” Vlad said and spent another three seconds before letting Karina go.

She chokes and gags even though she's already freed from that monster of a cock. “Did I... do a good job, Sir?” She asked noticeably exhausted. She then received another batch of throatfucking and this time, it's much easier but it still hurts.

GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK

She's taking it like a good little slut, moaning and groaning every time Vlad thrusts too deep in her throat. Karina became accustomed to the massive rod destroying her tight throat and she slowly but surely loving the way he manhandle her without any care about her well-being.

"I'm cumming you little slut!" He said and starts speeding up in his assaults. After all of this, he gave her some leeway and pull his cock out of her mouth. "Want to drink it?"

“YES! T-thank you, feed me your c-cum! Please sir, I'm begging you!!!” She said before he shoved his cock back into her mouth again.

Vlad reached his climax and poured it all in Karina's throat, he releases an obscene amount of cum like he's been holding it for long while. She willingly swallow every bit of it. Few ropes of his cum left in her mouth, she put on a show by gurgling, swirling her tongue cover of his cum then swallowing it.

“Oh my god... fucking hell... that was heavenly!” She said as she crawled over to him and started to lick his shaft cleaning it. “I need to be treated like that again, Sir. Please! You are right, I never experienced that before..”

"Oh, That's only the beginning little slut." He said while grabbing her in the neck and pulling her up.

A/N: Another Series that I might abandon but... oh well. I planned on doing the Bodyguard EP. 6 but idk when to actually do it.

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Synopsis: When talented producer Y/n (known professionally as the mysterious "Celeste") accepts a position at JYP Entertainment to help Stray Kids with their comeback, she expects to focus solely on creating music. What she doesn't expect is the immediate connection she feels with Han Jisung—the group's quick-witted, sensitive rapper and producer who's been following her career from afar.

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Heartbreak

Next>>

Masterlist

Chapter 1: New Producer, New Beginnings

The conference room buzzed with the usual pre-comeback energy as the eight members of Stray Kids fidgeted in their seats. Manager Kim stood at the head of the table, his expression unreadable as he shuffled through some papers.

Han Jisung tapped his pen against his notebook, already mentally composing lyrics for their upcoming album. Beside him, Changbin nudged his shoulder.

"Earth to Han," he whispered. "Manager looks serious today."

Han glanced up, noticing the slight tension in their manager's shoulders. Whatever news he had seemed significant.

"Alright, everyone," Manager Kim finally spoke, commanding the attention of all eight members. "As you know, we're gearing up for the new comeback. JYP has decided to bring in some additional production help for 3RACHA."

Chan sat up straighter. "Additional help? We've been handling production fine on our own."

"This isn't a reflection on your abilities," the manager clarified quickly. "Think of it as an opportunity to collaborate with someone who brings a different perspective." He paused, lips curving into a slight smile. "JYP has hired a producer who's been making waves internationally. You might know her work under the pseudonym Celeste."

Han's heart skipped a beat. His pen clattered to the table.

"Celeste?" he blurted out, earning curious glances from his members. "The Celeste?"

Inside his chest, a storm was brewing. Han had been following Celeste's work for years. Her production style was unmistakable—innovative yet nostalgic, complex but accessible. He had studied her techniques, dissected her beats, admired her from afar like a student would a master.

Manager Kim nodded. "That's right. Her real name is Y/n. She's been working out of LA but has agreed to relocate to Seoul for six months to help with this comeback."

Han's mind raced with questions. No one knew what Celeste looked like. She was notoriously private, never appearing in interviews or posting photos of herself online. The mystery surrounding her had only added to her allure in the industry.

"When do we meet her?" Chan asked, always the practical leader.

"Today, actually. She just flew in yesterday and will be joining us at the end of this meeting." The manager glanced at his watch. "She'll be staying in the empty dorm on your floor for convenience."

Changbin whistled low. "That's going to be interesting. 3RACHA with a fourth member."

"She's not joining 3RACHA," the manager corrected. "She's consulting on the production. And I should mention," he added, his tone becoming more serious, "her contract contains a strict no-dating clause regarding any Stray Kids members. JYP wants to keep this arrangement purely professional, understood?"

Murmurs of acknowledgment rippled around the table. Han barely registered the words, too busy trying to calm his racing heart. He was going to meet Celeste. The elusive producer whose work had influenced his own style.

As the meeting continued, Han struggled to focus. Manager Kim went through the comeback schedule, discussed concept ideas, and outlined promotional plans, but all Han could think about was the impending meeting with his musical idol.

"Han, did you hear me?" Chan's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Hm? Sorry, what?"

"I asked if you had any thoughts on the production timeline," Chan repeated, eyebrows raised.

Before Han could scramble for a response, a knock at the door diverted everyone's attention. Manager Kim's expression brightened.

"Perfect timing," he said, moving to open the door. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet Y/n."

---

You take a deep breath outside the conference room door, smoothing down the front of your black blazer. First impressions matter, especially in this industry where reputations can be so fragile. Your pink hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail, professional yet still true to your style.

When the door opens, you're greeted by the manager's encouraging smile. "Come in, Y/n. Everyone's excited to meet you."

Stepping into the room, you immediately feel eight pairs of curious eyes on you. The famous Stray Kids, sitting around a conference table, expressions ranging from polite interest to outright surprise. They clearly weren't expecting someone like you.

"Hello everyone," you say with a confident smile, years of industry experience helping you mask your nerves. "I'm Y/n. I'm looking forward to working with you all on this comeback."

The manager begins introductions, pointing to each member in turn. "This is Bang Chan, our leader and head producer..."

You nod, taking in each face and committing names to memory. Chan stands to shake your hand, his grip firm and professional. "Welcome to the team. We're excited to collaborate with you."

"Likewise," you reply, genuinely meaning it. You've researched their work extensively and have been impressed by their innovative approach.

The introductions continue around the table. Lee Know offers a cool nod. Changbin gives you an appraising look before a friendly smile breaks through. Seungmin and I.N. offer polite greetings.

When you get to Felix, his smile is so bright it's almost blinding. "Hey! It's so cool to meet you. I love your work on that last NCT track!"

"Thank you," you respond, immediately warming to his friendly energy. "That was a fun project."

Then there's Hyunjin, who stands up to greet you with what can only be described as a flirtatious smile. "Wow, no one told us Celeste was so beautiful," he says, earning an eye roll from several members.

"Down, boy," Changbin mutters, pulling Hyunjin back into his seat.

You laugh it off professionally—you're used to navigating these waters—and turn to the last member.

You recognize him from your research as Han Jisung, one-third of 3RACHA and a pivotal creative force in the group. But what your research didn't prepare you for was the way he's looking at you now—like he's seeing a ghost or a miracle or both.

"And this is Han," the manager says, seemingly oblivious to Han's wide-eyed stare.

"H-hi," Han manages, standing up so quickly he almost knocks his chair over. "I'm—I mean—your work on—I really—" He stops, takes a breath, and tries again. "I'm a huge fan of your production techniques," he finally blurts out.

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. There's something immediately endearing about his awkwardness, a stark contrast to the confident rapper you've watched in music videos. "Thank you, Han. I've listened to your work as well. Your flow is really distinctive."

His face flushes crimson, and you hear snickering from Changbin and Lee Know.

"Look at him blushing," Lee Know teases under his breath.

"Our Hannie has a crush," Changbin adds with a smirk.

You pretend not to hear them, taking the empty seat that the manager indicates—which happens to be directly across from Han. He immediately drops his gaze to his notebook, seemingly finding the blank page fascinating.

"As I was explaining to the members," the manager continues, "you'll be assisting with production for the next six months. Your dorm is already prepared—it's on the same floor as the members' dorms for convenience."

You nod, mentally preparing yourself for the months ahead. Living in such close proximity to the group would certainly make collaboration easier, but it also meant maintaining professional boundaries would require extra vigilance.

"I've set up a meeting tomorrow at the studio to go over concepts," Chan says, taking the lead naturally. "Does that work for you, Y/n?"

"Perfect," you reply, grateful for his professionalism. "I've already been listening to your previous albums to get a feel for your sound. I have some ideas I'm excited to share."

As the meeting wraps up, you notice Felix and I.N. approaching you while the others gather their things.

"Do you like baking?" Felix asks unexpectedly. "I make killer brownies, if I do say so myself."

"I love baking," you admit, pleasantly surprised by the question. "It's my stress relief."

"Mine too!" Felix's face lights up, his deep voice contrasting with his bright expression. "We should definitely bake together sometime."

I.N. nods eagerly beside him. "Can I join? I'm not good at baking, but I'm excellent at eating baked goods."

You laugh, already feeling at ease with these two. "That sounds perfect. I'll bring my special cookie recipe."

From the corner of your eye, you notice Han still seated, watching this interaction with a mix of wonder and something else you can't quite place. When he realizes you've caught him looking, he hurriedly stuffs his notebook into his bag and stands.

---

Han couldn't take his eyes off you. Y/n—Celeste—was nothing like he had imagined. He had pictured someone older, more serious. Maybe even a man, since female producers were still relatively rare in the industry. But you were young, vibrant, with pink hair and a presence that somehow commanded respect without demanding attention.

And you had heard his work. You knew his flow was "distinctive." Han's heart was doing acrobatics in his chest.

"Close your mouth before you catch flies," Changbin whispered, nudging him as they prepared to leave the conference room.

"I wasn't—I didn't—" Han stammered, but Changbin just laughed.

"Never seen you this tongue-tied before, Hannie. It's cute."

Han scowled, zipping his bag with more force than necessary. "I just respect her work, that's all."

"Sure, and I'm just mildly interested in rapping," Changbin teased.

Across the room, Han watched as Felix and I.N. chatted animatedly with you. They seemed to be hitting it off immediately, especially Felix. A strange twinge of something—not quite jealousy, but adjacent to it—pinched at Han's chest.

"Looks like Felix is making friends," Lee Know observed, appearing beside Han. "Better make your move before Hyunjin does."

Han followed Lee Know's gaze to where Hyunjin was now introducing himself properly to you, standing perhaps a bit closer than strictly necessary.

"It's not like that," Han protested weakly. "And anyway, you heard the manager. There's a no-dating clause in her contract."

Lee Know shrugged. "Since when has paperwork stopped feelings?"

Before Han could respond, Chan called them over. "3RACHA meeting in five. Let's talk about how we want to approach this collaboration."

Grateful for the interruption, Han hurried over to Chan, trying to compose his thoughts. He needed to get it together. You were going to be working closely with them for months. He couldn't turn into a stammering mess every time you looked at him.

As he joined Chan and Changbin, Han stole one more glance at you. You were laughing at something Felix had said, your entire face lighting up, pink hair catching the light. Something about that laugh made his chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with music.

This was going to be a very long six months.

---

You feel a presence hovering nearby and turn to find Hyunjin smiling down at you. He's even more striking up close, with perfect features that seem almost unreal.

"So, Y/n," he says, his voice smooth as silk, "how are you finding Seoul so far?"

"I haven't seen much of it yet," you admit, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Just the airport and the company building."

"I'd be happy to show you around," he offers, flashing a smile that you're sure has melted countless hearts. "There's a great coffee shop just down the street."

Before you can respond, Manager Kim appears at your shoulder. "Y/n, I should show you to your dorm now. You must be tired from the flight."

"That would be great, thank you," you say, secretly relieved at the timely intervention. You turn to Hyunjin with a polite smile. "Maybe another time."

As you gather your things, you notice the three producers—Chan, Changbin, and Han—huddled together in serious conversation. Han glances up, catches your eye for a moment, then quickly looks away. There's something interesting about him, you think. Behind that shy exterior, you glimpse an intensity that intrigues you.

"Ready?" Manager Kim asks.

You nod, offering a wave to the group. "See you all tomorrow."

As you follow the manager out, you mentally review your first impressions of Stray Kids. Eight distinct personalities, each one interesting in their own way. But it's Han Jisung, with his star-struck eyes and fumbling words, who lingers in your thoughts as you exit the room.

Six months suddenly seems both too long and not long enough.

---

The practice room echoed with heavy breathing and the squeak of sneakers on polished floors as the eight members of Stray Kids took a much-needed water break. They had been practicing choreography for three hours straight, and sweat glistened on foreheads as they collapsed in various states of exhaustion around the room.

Han leaned against the mirror, gulping water and trying to catch his breath. His mind kept drifting back to the meeting earlier, to pink hair and a confident smile that had completely scrambled his brain circuits.

"So," Hyunjin broke the comfortable silence, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Celeste, huh? Or should I say Y/n?"

Han immediately tensed, sensing where this conversation was headed.

"She's nothing like I expected," Seungmin commented, wiping his face with a towel. "I always pictured Celeste as some mysterious older guy in a studio."

"Well, I'm not complaining about the reality," Hyunjin said, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "Did you see her? That pink hair? Those eyes? And the way she carries herself..." He sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "I think I'm in love."

"You fall in love with someone new every week," Lee Know deadpanned, but there was amusement in his eyes. "Besides, she's clearly not interested in your flirting."

Hyunjin clutched his chest in mock offense. "How would you know? I haven't even started properly flirting yet. That was just the warm-up."

"Please don't harass our new producer," Chan said, though he was smiling. "We need her to actually like working with us."

"I'm not harassing, I'm appreciating," Hyunjin defended himself. "Anyway, I'm not the one who turned into a malfunctioning robot when she said hello." His gaze slid meaningfully to Han, who suddenly found his water bottle fascinating.

Changbin burst out laughing. "Oh man, you should have seen your face, Han! 'I'm—I mean—your work on—I really—'" he mimicked, his impersonation uncannily accurate.

Han's ears burned red. "I didn't sound like that," he muttered.

"You absolutely did," Lee Know chimed in, grinning widely. "I've never seen you so flustered. It was adorable."

"I was just surprised," Han tried to explain, running a hand through his hair nervously. "I've been following her work for years, and suddenly she's right there in front of us. It was unexpected."

"Right, unexpected," Changbin nodded seriously, then broke into a teasing smile. "Unexpectedly pretty, you mean."

"That's not—" Han started, but Felix cut him off.

"I think she's cool," Felix said. "She likes baking! We're going to make cookies together sometime."

Han's head snapped up. "You are?"

Felix nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, and she said I.N. could join too. You can come if you want," he added, seemingly oblivious to the knowing looks being exchanged around him.

"I don't bake," Han mumbled, though the idea of spending casual time with you made his heart rate pick up in a way that had nothing to do with their intense dance practice.

"Since when has that stopped you from eating the results?" Changbin laughed, nudging Han's shoulder. "Admit it, you're whipped already."

"I am not whipped," Han protested, perhaps a bit too forcefully. "I admire her professionally. That's it."

"Sure," Lee Know drawled. "That's why you couldn't form a coherent sentence in her presence. Pure professional admiration."

The others laughed, and Han sank lower against the mirror, wishing he could disappear into the floor. It wasn't fair. Yes, you were beautiful—he wasn't blind—but what had really struck him was finally putting a face to the music that had inspired him for so long. It was like meeting a ghost, or discovering that your favorite character from a book was suddenly real.

"Leave him alone," Chan finally intervened, though he was smiling too. "We need to focus on the collaboration. This is a huge opportunity for us, having someone with her credentials working on our comeback."

"Agreed," Seungmin said. "Her production on that last SHINee album was incredible."

"The way she layers harmonies is genius," I.N. added, surprising everyone with his specific knowledge.

"Looks like Han isn't the only fan," Changbin observed.

"I've been studying her techniques too," I.N. admitted with a shy smile. "Just not as obsessively as Han."

"I'm not obsessive," Han grumbled.

"Dude, you have a playlist of just her productions that you listen to before you write," Changbin revealed, earning another round of laughter.

Han shot Changbin a betrayed look. That playlist was supposed to be private knowledge between 3RACHA members.

"It's cute," Hyunjin said, his tone softening slightly. "Our Hannie has his first crush."

"It's not a crush," Han insisted, even as he felt his face heating up again. "And anyway, you heard Manager Kim. There's a no-dating clause in her contract."

"A piece of paper never stopped true love," Hyunjin declared dramatically, flopping backward onto the floor.

"No one said anything about love," Han muttered, but his protest was lost as their choreographer returned to the room, signaling the end of their break.

As they took their positions for another run-through, Han tried to focus on the counts and movements, but his mind kept drifting. Tomorrow they would have their first studio session with you. The thought filled him with equal parts excitement and dread. He needed to get it together before then. He couldn't keep turning into a stammering mess every time you were around.

Especially not if he was going to be working closely with you for the next six months.

But as the music started and he moved through the familiar choreography, Han couldn't help wondering what tomorrow would bring, and whether he would be able to impress the producer whose work had shaped his own creative journey in ways you didn't even know.

Next>>

[lil-shiro]

Hey Ann! I hope you don't mind another question from this new Fetus Lance fan: How was Esteban and Lance's relationship prior to their F1 career? I found them to be very fascinating since it seems like they never really share feeder series year and I just found out recently about how lance is kind of responsible to esteban not having a seat in 2019, but he seems to be very close to lance even after that meaning that their friendship is stronger than esteban career.

Hello! First of all I never mind, especially this type of question because I have done extensive research on this topic + I fucking love these two.

Before I dive in I will say that: I don't think it's necessarily that "their friendship is stronger than Esteban's career" it's more that they keep their personal relationship and professional career separated very well (I will get into this).

Karting Days

Lance and Este had one year where they karted together (2011). This was Lance's first year of karting in Europe and Este's last year before he went onto single seaters. They had a few overlapping races and even shared a podium together.

WSK MURO LECCESE - Category KF 3 | June 26th 2011 (link) Not pictured but gif-ed here -> ERDF Masters Kart, 10-11 December 2011

This is when they first met and from this interview, Este recounts racing against Lance at that time.

“He was so small, he could barely keep his head upright,” the Frenchman remembers. “He still beat me in some races. He was very quick, but also very dainty, which is why he always had his problems in duels.” (source)

Prema Days

After that, they weren't in the same racing sphere until Lance joined Prema in 2014 for F4 while Esteban was there currently doing his F3 campaign.

(Fun fact Este won the championship that year and when Lance won 2 years later, it was Este who presented him with his trophy)

They had this Ferrari / Merc thing going on and it was cute aha (1) (2)

You can also watch them in a Prema video here (2:30 mark)! They also had a running joke with the engineers, where the engineers would call them monkeys. This is why in 2017 for secret santa (2:40 mark), Este gifted Lance a monkey plushy.

I would say that this is where they really became friends. On a broadcast, (I think it was from an FP session from Bahrain'23), one of the commentators mentioned their relationship and how they were both outcasts in their own right. Lance because he came from a lot of money, and Este because he didn't, so naturally they had each other.

Martin Kodrić, who used to kart with Lance stated on a Croatian podcast in 2021, that Lance wasn't liked during that time. He also said that

"nobody [on the grid] likes lance." well i like him, and este likes him, and checo and seb too. so fuck everyone else they're irrelevant." (source)

(personally I think this statement is somewhat exaggerated but it's what he said)

F1 Era

Like you mentioned, there was a lot of public scrutiny when Este was out of a seat in 2019. However he's never once blamed Lance or badmouthed him. You've probably seen this first pic that Este posted after. (I added the second pic for formatting lol)

He was also asked why he came to Lance's defence and said that

“I did that because Lance is my best mate in the paddock and we have a great relationship since a long time”. (source) 

In a 2018 interview Lance was asked about their friendship situation to which he said

"I have my management team, he has his management team, we're both trying to do what's best for our careers, and there's our friendship. "We competed together in karts, we fought wheel-to-wheel in karts, he was in Prema Formula Three, he won the championship, I came in. "We've always had a good friendship and it's good to see that bridge hasn't burned." (source)

This is also a very sweet interview where he says that their friendship is above and beyond racing.

Like I said, they are VERY good at keeping their personal and business relationships separate. They often hang out on and off track, and I think it's very admirable, and not the easiest thing to do- to want to preserve friendship in such a cut throat environment.

It's funny though, because there are times where you can see it blend together.

Such as during the 2020 British GP where Este didn't complain that Lance was moving under breaking a little bit because, "we’ve known each other a long time. He knows he can do that a little bit to me, but at some point I’m going to go for it so he knows that as well".

Or prior to Hungary 2021 (when Este got his first win) Lance gave him advice for the start of the race.

The Frenchman later said he spoke to his friend Stroll about how to make the most of the start in wet conditions. “Yes, we had a chat with Lance before the race because Lance is an awesome starter in races and he loves those conditions as much as I do,” said Ocon. “Normally we always end up closer to the front in those [conditions] and he said when it’s the moment to go..." (source)

Normally I feel like these are things that teammates more often do, so it's really cute haha.

Extra

That's basically the end, but have some culturally relevant photos!!

If you want to see more feel free to go through my Lesteban tag because there's a whole lotta stuff I didn't include!

[asnowperson]

I recently got this book, 少女漫画家「家」の履歴書, which has interviews of 12 shoujo manga artists who debuted in the 1970s where they talk about their homes and families. The book's pretty interesting. They were originally published in a Japanese magazine over a span of time, Shuukan Bunshun.

I wanted to share this little bit from Aoike Yasuko's feature (first published on January 16, 2020). It gives a nice insight about the shoujo scene of the time (and what a queen she is).

Sons of Eve, which started its serialization in January 1976 issue of Akita Shoten’s Viva Princess magazine when I was 27 was the turning point for me. My interest in world history, familiarity with Christian culture, glam rock, ballet, movies, literature, humor… I poured all the things I loved, I was knowledgeable about and the curiosity which I had kept bottled up inside of me to The Van Roses, the band of homosexuals, and let it all out into the wild. Before becoming a freelancer*, things have been really harsh for me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t draw the kind of manga the editors and the readers wanted to see for the life of me. If I hadn’t start freelancing, it would have been the end of me. But Sons of Eve even made me ask to myself: “Is it okay to put all this stuff into a shoujo manga?” The response of my editor at Akita Shoten was “More. MORE!” That really encouraged me (laughs). *She used to have an exclusivity contract with Kodansha, which stipulated that she only drew for their magazines.” I did From Eroica with Love with the same editor. The first chapter was released in the winter (December) issue of Princess in 1976, then it got a regular serialization. I adopted ideas from what was happening in the real world, and started drawing how fate brought a British master thief (Earl) and a German who works at the intelligence bureau of NATO (Major) together. The shoujo manga tradition at the time was to set the story in a foreign country, which young girls admired so much. At the beginning, From Eroica with Love was one of those stories too. Which is why the Earl who got introduced in the first chapter has the image of a stereotypical shoujo manga character, with flowers in the background. However, Major who got introduced in the second chapter is someone who is miles away from what comes to mind when you think of shoujo manga. Drawing a straight-laced character like Major who says what he’s thinking with no filter whatsoever was extremely fun. With how international affairs escalated, I got a very positive response which allowed me to draw what like even more freely.

[cheriewoo]

Who’s The Boss, Babe ? | Jeong Yunho,Choi San,Jung Wooyoung ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 27 : Power Play

↬ [ Synopsis ] : In the boardroom, you are the BOSS fighting to secure the best deals for your beloved idols. But behind closed doors, in the comfort of your bed when your three dashingly handsome and irresistibly sexy lovers San, Yunho, and Wooyoung shower you with all their love. Then, the tables turn. They become the BOSSES, and you’re their BABE.

☆Word Count : 3.7k ☆Genre : Smut, Idol Au ☆Pairing : Idol! YunWooSan x Brand Manager! F.Reader

☆☆☆ WARNINGS : Pure smut (18+), formal company setting, heated arguments with authorities, praise, suggestive, power play kink, reader is at manager position in KQ, making out (in the meeting room), unprotected sex (be safe lil bunnies), foursome, edging, overstimulation, safe word, mild choking, fingering (fem recieving), dom/sub undertones, oral (both recieving), breast play, nipple play, pet names, slight degradation.

NOTE : Yes… I’m going to continue and complete Kinktober, even though we’re past the 31st. I really want to finish this challenge and not leave it incomplete, so I hope you all enjoy the story, ma chéries!

Your journey in marketing had begun with these San, wooyoung adn Yunho by your side and as your responsibility, before you climbed the ranks to become Ateez’s brand manager now representing the entire group.

If hiding secrets and carrying out sneaky acts was a game, you four were the masters, the top scorers on the scoreboard and the MVPs of the game.

Today was no different as you prepped yourself for an important meeting on which Ateez’s this comebacks sponsorship deals depended.

The meeting room was tense, filled with the rustling of papers and muted conversations as sponsors from various brands settled into their seats. As ATEEZ's brand manager, you had one goal today - secure the best deals possible for the group. Seated at the head of the table, you exuded calm authority, watching the faces of the sponsors gathered to discuss their partnerships with ATEEZ. Representing KQ Entertainment and the group, who observed quietly across the table, you were ready to protect their interests.

You exchanged a knowing glance with Hongjoong, ATEEZ’s leader, who gave you a reassuring nod, his expression silently conveying his trust in you to do your best for them. Seonghwa and Mingi, seated to his right, were calm, soft smiles on their faces, while Yeosang’s gaze drifted to the window, as if in his own world. Across from them, Jongho’s fingers turned the pages of the deal summaries in front of him, fully focused.

And then, finally, your eyes landed on the three little but somehow big at the same time devils — Yunho, Wooyoung, and San. All three wore confident smiles, but you could easily see the flickers of hidden desire beneath their innocent expressions. Yunho’s intense gaze lingered on you with a smirk, Wooyoung winked, offering a playful grin, and San gave a tiny thumbs-up, all gracefully hidden from the watchful eyes of the other meeting attendees.

As the clock struck 11:00 a.m., you took a steadying breath, ready to kick off the meeting. An executive from a high-profile tech company leaned forward, confidence in his posture and a slightly dismissive air in his tone. “We’re proposing a multi-platform campaign for six months, but naturally, the investment would need to be balanced with additional content requirements. We’d need access to their tour schedules, exclusive interviews, and regular social media engagement.”

You didn’t let his patronizing tone faze you. Instead, you replied with clear authority, “Your interest is noted, but ATEEZ’s social reach and engagement already deliver more value than most of your current brand ambassadors. If we’re extending access to exclusive content, the investment needs to reflect that value.” Your gaze was steady, voice unwavering. “The current proposal doesn’t align with the brand’s worth or the level of exposure you’re asking for.”

The executive raised an eyebrow, clearly not used to being pushed back on in negotiations. “With all due respect, we’ve worked with similar acts at the same price point,” he responded, his tone challenging.

Leaning forward slightly, you replied with a cool but assertive tone. “Then you’d know that ATEEZ isn’t a ‘similar act.’ They’re rising globally, setting records, and have a devoted fan base that’s growing by the day. The right deal here benefits both your brand and ours, and I won’t settle for anything less than a fair agreement.”

San, sitting across from you, concealed a small smile behind his hand, clearly entertained by your handling of the situation. Wooyoung exchanged a look with Yunho, admiration glinting in his eyes. They knew you were fighting for them, working to secure a partnership that valued them for who they truly were.

“Did she just say ‘won’t settle for anything less than a fair agreement’?” Wooyoung leaned over to Yunho with a smirk, feigning awe. “I think that’s the classiest way anyone’s ever told a sponsor to pay up or walk out.” He shot you a wink when your eyes briefly flicked his way, then leaned back as if he’d said nothing at all.

Yunho, seated next to him, chuckled under his breath, casting you an admiring glance as he whispered, “She’s really in her zone today. Almost scary how cool she is.” He nudged Wooyoung with a grin, shaking his head. “Guess we know why they call her ‘the ice queen of negotiations.’”

San joined in, his tone playful yet respectful. “It’s not just the sponsors who have high standards, you know,” he murmured, his gaze flicking briefly to you before returning to Wooyoung and Yunho. “She’s setting the bar for all of us. Makes me want to up my game just listening to her.”

Pretending not to notice their comments, you kept your focus on the sponsor conversation, yet their support echoed in your mind. Each subtle remark strengthened your resolve, reinforcing that they trusted you completely to handle the situation with poise and confidence.

The executive across the table looked taken aback but didn’t press further. Another sponsor took the opportunity to chime in, softening the conversation. “We absolutely see the potential here and understand the importance of aligning on fair terms. Perhaps we can look at additional options for exposure ? A dedicated photo shoot or a feature at one of our flagship events?”

You nodded, acknowledging the shift in tone. “That’s a step in the right direction, but I’d need a clearer outline of the expected deliverables and a budget adjustment to match,” you replied, your voice firm yet with a touch of negotiation. “We’re open to expanding opportunities, but it needs to reflect ATEEZ’s current standing and future potential.”

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Wooyoung giving you an approving nod, his lips curving into that characteristic smirk, silently applauding your persistence. Yunho’s gaze lingered as well, respectful yet subtly challenging, as though he was testing just how far you’d go to secure the deal they all wanted.

Leaning over to his friends once again, Wooyoung added in a low, playful tone, “I’m convinced she could get the CEO himself to sign on without even breaking a sweat,” earning a laugh from San and Yunho.

But as the meeting wore on, you couldn’t shake the subtle intensity in the room. Each time you made a point, your eyes would meet one of the boys’, and there’d be a flicker of something unspoken, a quiet admiration mixed with a tension simmering just beneath the surface. You were their representative, yes, but there was an understanding between you that extended beyond the business formalities of the room.

As everyone left the meeting room, Wooyoung, San and Yunho stayed back as you have asked them to fill in them with a few of their solo shoots and works for the comeback.

With the last person leaving the meeting room, the door clicked shut, leaving only the four of you in the silence. The air was thick, charged with something unspoken. Holding onto your notebook, you felt their gazes—intense and unwavering, zeroed in on you. Wooyoung, San, and Yunho were watching you, and the usual professionalism had melted away, replaced by lust.

“Come here,” you breathed, motioning for them to gather closer. They moved in, but as you began to discuss the final points about the comeback, you felt their attention slipping from business to something more personal. Yunho, close enough to feel his heat, leaned in, his dark eyes admiring your face. “You were incredible back there,” he murmured, his voice low, a smirk curling at his lips as his gaze dropped to your mouth.

San stepped forward with a mischevious grin. “Yeah, you really put them in their place,” he murmured, leaning in until there was no space between you. “But now, it’s our turn, isn’t it ?”

Wooyoung’s soft laugh sent a thrill through you. He leaned close, his breath warm against your ear. “The ice queen of negotiations,” he teased. “Let’s see how long the ice takes to melt.” His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your jawline in a slow, purposeful stroke, sending electricity down your spine.

San’s lips grazed your ear, his fingers tracing the curve of your shoulder. The touch alone made your legs weak, sending shivers down your spine as you held onto him for support.

Yunho’s fingers slid down your arm, intertwining with yours, his intense gaze holding yours as he tilted your chin up. His breath was hot on your skin, his lips brushing against yours before trailing slowly along your jaw, igniting a spark deep within you.

Wooyoung’s hands found your waist, pulling you to him, his mouth claiming yours in a slow, deep kiss that left you breathless. San’s hands were there too, holding you as his lips brushed your skin. “Guess we’re the bosses now, aren’t we babe ?” he murmured, his voice both challenge and a sweet declaration.

Surrounded by them, every touch, every look, every kiss pulled you deeper. The intensity was dizzying and consuming. Just as you were about to surrender, breaking every office relationships policy, the ring of your phone shattered the moment. You answered the call, barely processing the voice on the other end, your mind still clouded by the steamy kiss. Gathering your things, you glanced back, meeting their eyes still dark, intense and wanting.

You leaned close, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks, your voice soft with promise. “Come to my place tonight,” you whispered, your eyes flicking between them. “You’re mine tonight.” Then, with a final look, you turned and left, leaving the anticipation hanging in the air.

As promised, San, Wooyoung and Yunho were at your house in the evening as you all planned to relax in your living room watching a movie. You were perched up the coach with your head resting on Yunho’s shoulder who was on your right while San rested his head on your left shoulder. Wooyoung made himself comfortable on the floor while his head rested back on your thighs.

The horror movie was at its climax, you and Yunho’s gazes refused to leave the tv screen while you could hear San making scared noises while covering his eyes whenever a jumpscare happened but still his curiousity peeked and he would sneak small glances while Wooyoung fully hugged you leg, refusing to watch the movie anymore but also asking you if the scary scene was over or not. It was endearing and funny at the same time as the boys clung on to you.

“Scrady cats” Yunho muttered as you chuckled nuzzling deeper into Yunho neck as the movie for you wasn’t even that scary and at this point you were feeling more bored.

“Wanna do something more interesting babe ?” Yunho asked, his voice was low but loud enough to reach your ears, as you jolted up to meet his gaze. His playful puppy eyes and sweet smile heightened up your excitement as you call for Woo and San.

“Guys, still wanna watch the movie, or should we…” You barely finished the sentence before Wooyoung quickly turned off the TV, meeting your gaze with a glint of mischief. He shifted on the floor, fully facing you, and smirked, “The movie was boring anyway. I’d rather finish you than finish it.” His words drew chuckles from all of you as he gently rubbed your thighs, his warm touch sending a thrill through you. Meanwhile, San left delicate kisses on your shoulder, adding to the tingling sensation dancing across your skin.

Your tiny tank top and mini shorts provided them more than enough to touch, admire, and savor. Yunho slowly turned you toward him, his large hand holding the back of your head as he pulled you closer. His lips captured yours, while Wooyoung settled between your legs and San held your waist, bringing you even closer. Sandwiched between Yunho and San, you felt Wooyoung’s sneaky hands slide down to remove your shorts, his fingers working with surprising deftness.

“Remember, kitten, whenever it gets too much, use our safe word,” San murmured into your ear, his breath warm as you hummed in acknowledgment, all while sharing a deep kiss with Yunho. San’s mouth latched onto your shoulder, his lips caressing the butterfly tattoo on your back. His hands roamed up your sides, his gentle rubs slowly inching your tank top higher and higher.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung’s mouth left soft kisses on your thighs, his hands caressing your legs as he worked his way up, inching closer to where you ached for attention the most, already dripped wet with arousal.

Yunho deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth and sucking on your toongue, and you let out a soft moan that gradually turned louder as Wooyoung and San each focused on your most sensitive spots in unison.

Wooyoung’s mouth took you by surprise, his lips and tongue tasting you, indulging with eager slurps. “Mmm,” he murmured against you, seemingly satisfied with every lick he took of your wet core. San’s large hands found your breasts, and with your tank top discarded somewhere on the floor, he kneaded them with care, his fingers pinching and teasing your nipples until they perked, each touch sending pulses of pleasure through you.

Yunho bit your bottom lip, adding a sharp but delicious sting that made you gasp. Just then, Wooyoung slid one of his thick fingers inside you, the unexpected sensation causing you to gasp again. San’s movements on your breasts quickened, his skilled fingers squeezing and pinching, sending electric jolts down your spine.

Wooyoung added another finger, the stretch making you tense momentarily, but soon, it melted into something beautifully pleasurable as Yunho broke the kiss. He took in the sight of you, eyes half-closed, dazed with pleasure, and smiled as he rubbed your clit while Wooyoung continued to pump, his pace picking up, pushing you closer to release.

“Still holding up, kitten ?” San whispered in your ear. You nodded, and a loud moan escaped your lips as you felt yourself clench around Wooyoung’s fingers. The tension built rapidly, your body trembling on the edge of something big. With one last, perfectly timed pinch on your sensitive clit, you finally came undone, your release spilling over Wooyoung’s fingers as your body quivered. Wooyoung pulled his fingers out and, without missing a beat, slipped them into his mouth, tasting every bit of you like it was his favorite flavor.

A knowing glance passed between Wooyoung and Yunho, and they swapped positions with ease. Wooyoung moved to the couch while Yunho settled between your legs, his mouth eager to taste every last drop of you. His hungry lips latched onto you, licking and sucking, not letting a single trace escape. As you moaned, your voice filled the room, each sound encouraging them on. Wooyoung brought his fingers to San’s mouth, and San took them in, savoring your taste with a low hum that turned you on even more.

Your mind drifted back to the first time with all three of them. It had been overwhelming, so intense that you’d had to use the safe word, the overstimulation and all three of them at the same time was too much for your body to handle. Since then, it had happened twice more before your body finally adjusted to them. Their frequent visits had helped you get used to both the stretch and the intensity, the pain gradually shifting into pure pleasure each time. And now, it was all too easy to surrender completely to the sensations they gave you.

You were pulled out of your deep thoughts as San’s lifted you, holding you securely in his arms as he stood. Yunho was already settled comfortably on the couch, leaning back as his eyes turned dark filled with lust. Once Yunho was ready, San lowered you onto him, positioning you so that your back pressed against Yunho’s chest, bringing a rush of warmth from his steady breathing behind you. Wooyoung, meanwhile, stood near your head, his eyes shining with excitement. You tried to piece together their intentions, your pulse quickening as you wondered what new position they had in store for you this time.

The boys were full of surprises, each encounter introducing another thrilling variation. You remembered your first foursome with them, bodies pressed together under the steamy flow of the shower, where you first caught a glimpse of just how intense their fantasies could be. Now, each time you were with them, you were left guessing, an excitement that never tappered off.

As you settled, Yunho’s large hands wrapped around your throat from behind, his grip firm yet gentle, just enough to make you feel his presence without restricting your breath heightening the intensity of the dellicious moment. San’s hands found your waist, holding you in place, his fingers pressing into your skin as they grounded you. The three of them exchanged nods before finally meeting your gaze, a silent question in their eyes asking for your permission.

“Are you ready for us, babygirl?” Wooyoung’s voice was low and eager, each word laced with anticipation that sent a thrilling shiver down your spine. His gaze roamed over you, making your heart pound as you gave a playful nod. Without another word, San positioned himself at your wet core, pressing into you slowly, stretching you as he filled you completely. Yunho, right behind you, followed with his own hard length, pushing inside, making you gasp at the fullness of both of them, leaving your mind spinning.

San’s hands tightened on your waist, grounding you as he met your gaze, a spark passing between you before he started moving, each stroke deliberate and intense, reaching depths that made you shudder. Behind you, Yunho’s hands held you steady, mirroring San’s movements to create a steady, intoxicating rhythm that had you breathless with every second.

As San thrust forward, Yunho matched his pace, their synchronized rhythm sending waves of pleasure through you, filling you from both sides. Each movement was perfectly timed, their bodies working in unison, creating an overwhelming sensation that left you lost in the moment.

Wooyoung, standing near your head, leaned down and gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You look incredible like this,” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. He guided himself to your lips, filling your mouth slowly, letting you adjust to his taste and warmth as he moved in sync with San and Yunho’s rhythm.

Their thrusts were perfectly in sync, and your body responded helplessly, completely lost to the rhythm they’d created. San’s grip tightened on your waist, his pace quickening as he drove into you harder, leaving you gasping. Behind you, Yunho’s hands shifted to your hips, pulling you back to meet his deep, powerful thrusts, amplifying every sensation.

Wooyoung’s hand cradled your jaw, his thumb tracing over your cheek as he encouraged you to take him deeper. His satisfied groans reverberated through you, his hips matching the rhythm San and Yunho had set, heightening the intensity surrounding you from every side.

San’s hand slid down to your sensitive spot, his thumb moving in firm circles that sent shocks of pleasure through you. Your body reacted instantly, arching as a wave of pleasure washed over you. Yunho slowed for a brief moment, letting you catch your breath before resuming, each thrust more intense, pushing you closer to release.

“Just like that, keep going,” Wooyoung whispered, his hand shifting to the back of your head. His voice was soothing, a contrast to their increasingly urgent rhythm. His hips moved steadily, his heavy breaths syncing with the sounds escaping you. Together, the three of them created a rhythm that left you gasping, with no choice but to surrender.

With each thrust, the tension in your core grew tighter, the pleasure coiling to an almost unbearable peak. Finally, as San’s thumb pressed harder and Yunho’s grip tightened, the release overtook you. Heat rushed through you in waves, leaving you breathless and shaking as you came undone.

San groaned deeply, his pace slowing briefly as he felt you tighten around him. With a final shared glance, the three of them pulled out together, each one spilling over your stomach, warmth pooling across your skin as they let out satisfied, heavy breaths.

They steadied you in the aftermath, soft touches grounding you as they ran their hands along your skin. Wooyoung leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his smile gentle and content. You lay there, basking in the warmth of their presence, a shared moment of closeness and quiet satisfaction.

As the aftershocks pulsed through you, their touches softened, turning from intense to gentle, grounding you in the moment. Heavy breaths filled the room as their hands traced light patterns along your skin, enveloping you in warmth and closeness.

San brushed a hand through your hair, murmuring, “You did so well… perfect for us.” He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his touch warm and steady. Yunho’s hands squeezed your hips gently as he whispered, “You’re incredible, so beautiful.” His lips brushed your neck in soft kisses, his voice soothing and tender.

Wooyoung cradled your face, his gaze warm. “Amazing, babygirl,” he praised, while cleaning you off as you still recovered from the intense high.

Their words and touches surrounded you, filling the afterglow with soft praise and affection, a moment of perfect connection between you all.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

DISCLAIMER: This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.

[the-offside-rule]

Jude Bellingham (Real Madrid) - Dorada

Requested: no

Prompt: Jude couldn't make it to the Ballon D'or, but Y/n brought it to him

Warnings: none

The night sparkled in Paris. Photographers flashed their cameras, calling Y/n's name, hoping for a radiant shot of the footballer nominated for the Women's Ballon d'Or. She was flawless for the cameras, dressed in a shimmering dark blue gown. As the interviews began, she felt the familiar weight of Jude's absence. Real Madrid's sudden boycott meant he couldn’t be by her side tonight. She kept her head up, flashing that confident smile she’d mastered over the years. One of the reporters stepped forward with a curious look. "Y/n, tonight's a big night, and we all know you’d hoped to share it with Jude. Is there any reason he couldn't make it tonight?"

"You get to interview a Ballon D'or nominee and thats the question you ask?" She chuckled, earning an approved laugh from her captain, Alexia beside her. Y/n took a deep breath and gave her rehearsed response. "It’s just a decision that’s out of my hands. It isn’t the time to focus on that. I'm here to talk about my football, about my season, and if all goes well, hopefully my first Ballon D'or." Her voice remained calm, her smile unwavering, though inside she felt a pang.

As she moved along the red carpet, she caught whispers of fans and reporters speculating. There were murmurs about a breakup, suggestions that the long distance between Barcelona and Madrid had driven a wedge. She could feel the weight of it but chose to brush it off. Tonight, she was here for her dream. Jude would understand.

Finally, it was time. The ballroom filled with anticipation as the names were called, leading up to the grand announcement. "And this year’s Women’s Ballon d’Or goes to-" The pause ate away at her. It felt like forever. Who won? Who won? "Y/n Y/l/n, FC Barcelona!" A mix of shock and joy washed over her. The room exploded with applause, her teammates standing and cheering as Y/n made her way to the stage, trying to process the enormity of the moment. She turned to smile, holding back the tears and simply trying to think of what to do, what to say. Her hand was shaking as she accepted the golden trophy, its weight somehow grounding her. She barely registered the applause as she stood before the room, her teammates cheering her on, her eyes welling up slightly as she approached the stand. She was handed her trophy, the one trophy she was missing.

She stepped up to the microphone, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. Gripping the golden trophy, Y/n began her speech. "Wow, um, I didn’t expect so many people to be here." The crowd laughed as she calmed herself down. "Alexia and Aitana make this look so easy." Another laugh. She finally felt calmer. "I've been thinking on what I would say all week if I won this prestigious award and honestly, all the practiced speeches are just-" She waved her hands. "Gone. They're gone." She smoothed out her dress and placed the ball onto the stand. "Firstly, I would like to thank my club, my coaches, and to the girls who make every match something I look forward to. You guys make every training, every game, every win and every loss worth it and I am so happy to be alongside each and every one of you. It is truly an honour." The room.erupted into claps as Y/n thought of what to say next.

"To my family back home, who believed in me from the beginning. To the culers who watch us at home, to the culers who follow us around the globe, I dedicate this to you. Thank you for making my jersey sales so high." The room laughed once again as she found a new confidence in herself. She took a moment, gathering her thoughts. And then, with a gentle smile, she continued. "And to the silly little boy I met all those years ago in Dortmund, thank you for cheering me on tonight from Madrid. I love you, and I am so sad you couldn’t make it. I know you would be taking photos of me for my instagram, so maybe it's the thought that counts." She waited for the crowd to quieten once more so she could deliver the most important part in her opinion.

"And finally, to all the little girls out there watching. To the little girl who will one day stand up here and win this award, don't you ever give up! Keep going, and enjoy the journey. Visca el Barça!" She smiled, raising the trophy and wiping her tears away as she walked down back towards her teammates. The crowd cheered, and Y/N stepped off the stage, her heart a mix of pride and longing. She knew Jude was watching, and she couldn't wait to tell him everything.

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As the celebrations continued, her phone buzzed. It was a video notification. Opening it, she saw Jude's mom had posted a clip on Instagram. The video showed Jude’s face lighting up as her name was announced, pride etched all over his expression. He cheered loudly as she walked up the steps. "That’s my girl!" Y/n laughed, her heart feeling warmer than it had all evening. She wanted nothing more than to see him. Turning to her good friend, Laia from Atlético Madrid, she pulled her aside. "Laia, would you mind if I joined your flight back to Madrid?" She asked, biting her lip. Laia grinned, immediately understanding. "Of course! You want to see your boy, right?" Y/n nodded, a bit shy. "Yeah… I need to be there. Tonight wouldn't feel complete otherwise."

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It was late when she arrived, but the city lights twinkled as her cab rolled through familiar streets. Thank God she had brought Jude's hoodie with her to Paris or she would have froze to death. She carried the golden Ballon d'Or and her luggage up to Jude's door. She barely had time to knock before the door opened. She had messaged Denise that she was coming sos he could surprise Jude, so she was happy to see her boyfriend's mum at the door to open it. "Comgratulations, darling." She whispered, hugging Y/n gently. "Thank you so much!" Y/n replied, before the pair walked in and up the stairs to Jude's room.

She sat down on his bed, still holding her trophy in one hand. Her other reached up to his cheek to caress his face. He stirred, his eyes flickering open. "Babe?" Jude whispered,his eyes now fully open. "Did someone order a Ballon d'Or?" She said with a grin. Jude laughed, pulling her into his arms, hugging her as if he’d never let go. "I did! Took long enough to arrive, though." He teased, eyeing the trophy she carried.

"I am so sorry I wasn't there. I wanted to be there. You know that, right? That I hated not being there?" She sighed softly. "I know. I wanted you there, but I understand why you couldn’t be." He wrapped an arm around her, his voice warm with affection. "You deserved every moment up there. It was all you." She looked at him, her gaze soft. "Not all me. It was partly you, too, Jude. You’ve been with me through everything, even if we’re miles apart."

Jude chuckled, shaking his head. "A whole Ballon d'Or winner, calling me a ‘silly little boy’ on live TV." He laughed, nudging her playfully. She grinned. "Well, it's the truth. The boy who used to kick balls at me during training just to get my attention." He pulled back, beaming as he looked down at her. He shook his head with a grin. "Look where that got me." He murmured, leaning over to kiss her forehead. They both laughed, the months of long distance and tonight’s worries melting away. She handed him the trophy, watching as he held it with reverence. "It’s lighter than I thought it would be." He murmured, grinning. "Oh, really?" She challenged. "I didn’t think you’d get to hold one just yet." She winked playfully, knowing that her banter would fire him up. "That was far." Jude said, looking towards his mum who was laughing by the doorway.

Jude laughed, feigning shock. "You just wait. You give me a year." His gaze softened, and he ran a thumb over her cheek. "I’m so proud of you, though. You deserved every bit of that." Pulling her close, Jude took out his phone. "Okay, one last thing. Let’s get a picture. Just so we can recreate it when I win mine." She rolled her eyes, leaning in and making sure to show the shiny trophy. They snapped a quick selfie: Y/n in Jude’s hoodie, cuddled up with the Ballon d'Or shining between them. She gave a goofy grin while he kissed her temple, pride and love written all over his face.

As he posted the photo, the caption silencing those who whispered all evening.

Finally got to celebrate my girl, the Ballon d'Or winner, up close

"That long-distance stuff?" He murmured. "We’ll make it work. No one’s stopping us."

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I feel like this topic has been discussed to death, but it is still quite confusing to me. Do you think if, for example, the Oprah interview didn’t happen, would the BRF have allowed Harry and Meghan’s kids to have the prince and princess titles after Charles became king?

Correct me if my understanding/speculation is wrong, but it seems to me that the BRF intended Harry and Meghan to go the Edward and Sophie route (regarding their kids’ titles) even after the Queen’s death. And that’s what didn’t sit right with Harry and Meghan.

Do you think the brf should’ve carefully considered that a new mixed race member of the royal family (Archie) would’ve needed a different kind of support and protection? And imo, the BRF failed to a certain extent in handling the situation. I think their response was to treat Archie as they would’ve treated him if he was white (i.e. without special treatment as if he was just one of Edward and Sophie’s kids), but actually maybe they needed to be more sensitive. I think they failed to grasp the significance of a mixed race member of the royal family, and in that sense perhaps there is a hint of racism. Because obviously the situation blew up. It means there still cannot be mixed race members of the family without there being issues, which reflects a bit badly on the institution. I don’t mean they were obviously racist and discriminatory, but it’s their lack of action that makes them guilty. The issue of race will always be complicated, and the BRF failed to handle the situation with sensitivity.

Archie and Lili were always automatically entitled to HRH Prince/Princess titles. They just had to be grandchildren of the monarch first. That's guaranteed by the 1917 Letters Patent (LP), and there was never any indication by anyone anywhere that it wouldn't happen. The kids were always going to get the titles on Charles's ascension, no matter what, regardless of the Oprah interview.

It was suggested - by the Sussexes themselves in their own announcement of Archie's name when they said he would be known as Master Archie Mountbatten-Windsor instead of Earl of Dumbarton - that when the time came, they would decline the HRH Prince/Princess on the kids' behalves much like Edward and Sophie did.

Whether the kids had the title or not, whether they used them or not, isn't the controversy. The controversy is the 2012 LP, which solved a problem the 2011 Perth Agreement created with the 1917 LP.

First, the 1917 LP: Issued by George V, it restricts use of HRH Prince/Princess to the grandchildren of the reigning monarch and the eldest living son of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales.

Second, the 2011 Perth Agreement: Made during the 2011 CHOGM in Perth, Australia (hence the name), this is an agreement between all the countries of the Commonwealth that they would issue laws abolishing male primogeniture (men inherit before women; this is why Anne is #18 and behind Andrew and Edward despite being the second child) inheritance of the throne with absolute primogeniture (firstborn child inherits regardless of gender). In the UK, the 2011 Perth Agreement led to the 2013 Succession to the Crown Act which is the British law officially replacing male primogeniture with absolute primogeniture.

The Perth Agreement conflicts with the 1917 LP. Remember that the 1917 LP says the eldest living son of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales. With the Perth Agreement in place (and eventually the 2013 Succession to the Crown Act), this means that if William's first child is a daughter (aka the future queen) and his second child is a son, the younger brother will outrank the the future queen until Charles becomes King. Meaning for however long it takes for Charles to accede, #4 will outrank #3 and in a system organized by primogeniture-based hierarchy...that's a problem. A big problem. It's like saying the Vice President is more important than the President.

Leading to the 2012 LP: Issued by Elizabeth II, it gives HRH Prince/Princess to all children of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales. Meaning, only William's children get HRH Prince/Princess titles from birth and Harry's children have to wait until Charles becomes King. No one had a problem with that. Even the gossip/leaks from aristo circles hinted that Harry didn't have a problem with it.

Where the Oprah interview comes into play is that the Oprah interview was the first time it was confirmed and acknowledged that the Sussexes had a problem with the 1917 and 2012 LPs. As Meghan discussed, they felt that because The Queen issued the 2012 LP for William's children giving them HRH Prince/Princess from birth, The Queen should issue a new LP for Harry's children giving them HRH Prince/Princess from birth and justified it with racism-related safety/security concerns.

But here's the thing: First, HRH Prince/Princess titles is not what establishes the need for security. It's the threat to the person that establishes the need for security. Second, minor children inherit their parents' status. Meaning that even though the-future-child-now-known-as-Archie didn't have titles, he still had security through Harry's and Meghan's risk assessments and Harry's and Meghan's risk assessments would have been properly re-evaluated with Archie part of their family.

So when you say the BRF failed to handle this, are you then saying that you think The Queen should have issued a new LP to #7 in the Line of Succession granting that child the right to be titled HRH Prince/Princess from birth? Even though that child has a very insignificantly tiny chance of ever inheriting the throne? Even though the only justification for #7 to have those titles from birth is because he's of mixed racial status? Even though he was getting the titles anyway?

The only special treatment the BRF needed to provide was consideration for his personal security. Which they did. By following the parents' wishes to protect his privacy and limit and control the public's access to him. Are you saying the BRF should have overruled Harry and Meghan's wishes? And in what ways would overruling their wishes provide more security to Archie?

Because frankly, when you say "they failed to grasp the significance of a mixed race member of the royal family," it sounds like you expect the BRF to be parading Archie around to show him off. And that actually is kind of racist, because now they're treating him like the token person of color who's shoved to the front of every photograph to prove they're diverse and they can't be racist. Which actually is racist too.

So...what's the BRF supposed to do? They're racist if they treat Archie differently. They're racist if they treat Archie the same. What should they have done?

For me personally, speaking only for myself and no one else since you asked me what I think -- I think the BRF should strive for inclusion. Which is treating everyone fairly and equally. Meaning Archie doesn't get special treatment. He's afforded the same things everyone else got:

Titles upon becoming the grandchild of the reigning monarch,

Press releases and palace announcements of his birth,

Defense when the media was viciously cruel,

Security and status inherited from his parents,

A private, secure, and securely-protected home, and

His parents' wishes followed for how public or private he should be.

And that's what the BRF provided.

The only special treatment provided here was special treatment for William's family. That's because the succession to the crown was involved. Which is part of the problem with monarchy; the first gets everything at everyone else's expense. Harry, for the longest time, has been lumped in as part of the first even though he's actually part of the 'everyone else.' And IMO, that's the real mistake here: Harry should have been recategorized to 'everyone else' years before he actually was, like when he finished Sandhurst in 2005 or when he turned 25 (2009), not when he was 33 and getting engaged in 2017. Because had Harry been rightfully 'everyone else'-d for a decade-plus without having been part of the Cambridge unit and before he married or had a child, we probably wouldn't be having this conversation today.