#NET Full Form

[breekelly]

Understanding the NET: A Pathway to Academic and Research Excellence in India

The NET is a crucial examination for postgraduates in India who aspire to become university lecturers or pursue research fellowships. Conducted by the University Grants Commission (UGC) and the Council for Scientific and Industrial Research (CSIR), the NET ensures that only qualified individuals are eligible for teaching and research positions. The test covers a wide array of subjects, including sciences, social sciences, humanities, and professional courses, providing a comprehensive assessment of candidates' knowledge and aptitude.

Since its inception in 1989, the NET has been held twice a year, offering candidates multiple opportunities to qualify. The exam consists of two papers: Paper I, which tests general teaching and research aptitude, and Paper II, which is subject-specific. Qualifying for the NET opens doors to prestigious career opportunities, including Junior Research Fellowships, Assistant Professor positions, and eligibility for PhD programs. This examination is a stepping stone for academic and professional growth, ensuring a high standard of education and research in India.

[freshthoughts2020]

[thbbie]

༄ true form sukuna x f!reader

you're coming down from it all. the hours and hours you had been subject of pleasurable torture. he teased and edged and stretched and stimulated you as though you weren't going to feel it.

watching your expression as you experience each one, each drag of his cocks against your walls, each lick of his tongues on your body, every tight circle to your clit. sukuna didn't miss a moment, his eyes trained on you the whole time — until the curse decided you've had enough; for now, and released you from his tight hold. letting your spamming body flop against him.

you're too tired too drained to even bother worrying if that would upset him, if it would set him off. he'd killed people for much less than that in the past. and he cannot help but admire that, not quite the thing you think of when you hear courage but it's close enough.

sukuna is not yet used to have to treat something so tenderly. his grip on you never tightens enough for him to consider it tight — he might pop you like a balloon; so instead his touch is feather light. just grazing the surface of you. it can be frustrating and requires patience he does not afford to anyone but it remains a meaningful change.

one that promises he gets to keep you by his side longer.

only one pair of hands is touching you now, the other resting at his side. you're already so sensitive, the unnecessary touch would only make it worse, make it uncomfortable. when did he get so considerate?

sukuna shushes your cries as soft as he could manage, it's strange but he doesn't let him limit him. the low deep sound of his voice is being stored somewhere safe in the back of your brain.

he drappes you in one of his robes, carefully moving your body to slip the large silken fabric on before he carries you in his harms himself to drover you to the baths. but sukuna doesn't leave you in the care of the maid or the servants, he washes you himself. only his rough hardened hands know the delicacy you need to be handled with, now especially.

ordering everyone out the room, sukuna wipes your bare body clean. clean of yourself, of himself, of sweat, of tears, evething. the net wash cloth running over your skin, cooling the heated skin there. oh it's so nice.

he holds you close you him when you're back on his chambers, hair damp and skin still dewy. tou feels relaxed but the exhaustion only feels more important.

sukuna keeps you in his lap, your head resting against his bare chest. es found that you like when he presses kisses to the side of your head, and do he does. pressing warm gentle kisses to you temple, your hair, your forehead. his other hand is resting against your tummy.

sukunas calloused hands, one that has crushed skulls between his bare hands, cradles your soft belly, rubbing circles on it with warm palm to sooth your body.

strangely , his movements feel unfamiliar but they come to him naturally as if by nature.

sukuna holds you like that for however long you may need, feeding you freshly cut fruit by hand, rocking you slightly and rubbing his warm hands over you until your trembling halts, and you fall asleep in his arm. with your skin clean, stomach full and your mind blissfully satiated

he thinks to himself how brave you are for allowing yourself to rest so peacefully in the arms of a beast. he watches you, tranquil and serene, as he's shifting you under the covers of his own bed. laying you on you back so he doesn't miss the soft smile playing at your slumbering face.

sukuna is at peace when he sees you like this. the feeling of your comfortable sleep contagious. he watches for as long as he can, committing you his archive of a mind; you won't live forever, not nearly as long as he will, so for the moment, all he could do was cherish you like you would.

[kxsagi]

aged up blue lock men of your choice where they already perfected their skills in every aspect with their girlfriend who wants to try soccer for the first time so the blue lock men jokingly tried to show off their signature move and then reader thinking he might be asking her to replicate it, did exactly that except they didn't expected their gf to execute it perfectly (it took them years, it took her a glance)

“𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐫”

a/n: the header is everything

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, bachira meguru, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, mikage reo, niko ikki

itoshi rin

he was just trying to be funny, okay? 

you'd asked him to teach you how to play, and he just... showed off a bit. a simple top-corner shot – full sprint, perfect form, sharp angle. you clapped. 

“so you want me to do that?” 

he snorted. “no, not unless you’re secretly a prodigy or something.” 

but then you jog up. barely even take a second to aim. and the ball swerves – a perfect curve into the same damn top corner. 

he just stands there. arms crossed. blinking. 

“… did you google my entire playstyle last night?” 

you: “no?” 

rin: “are you possessed?” 

he’s so irrationally offended, but also stunned and a little in love because what do you MEAN you just felt like it???

itoshi sae

you ask for help and he stretches dramatically like he’s being forced to tutor a child. 

“fine. observe a prodigy.” 

he lines up, slow-walks to the ball like a diva, and hits one of those cheeky no-look chips into the goal. smirks.  

“okay, now you.” 

you mimic everything – down to the posture, the lazy half-step, and then bam, the same result. ball lands in the net with that same crisp curve. 

“… huh.” 

he walks up to you and pokes you in the forehead. 

“how did that come from you?” 

you stick your tongue out. “you said observe a prodigy, right?” 

he’s lowkey smiling the entire time and won’t admit it. 

“okay, whatever, prodigy #2. try dribbling next, i bet you suck at that.” (he’s bluffing. he knows you’re about to humble him again.)

isagi yoichi

you just wanted a basic lesson. but your sweet boyfriend enters meta vision. 

“okay, okay, watch this. it’s my direct shot. this took me years, okay?” 

he explains angles. timing. leg strength. strategy. he’s so passionate you almost feel bad. 

until you try it. 

and the ball flies – same angle, same power, right into the net. 

he’s speechless. like, “did you just… wait what???” 

you: “was that it?” 

him: “was that it?? LOVE, THAT TOOK ME YEARS OF DEVASTATION AND CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.” 

he's so happy and offended all at once, like this is not how shonen arcs work 😭

but he also makes you recreate it ten more times while filming it for proof. his screensaver is now you landing a direct shot. 

nagi seishiro

this man literally yawns before showing you his “signature” trap-and-volley. it’s so clean it looks fake. 

“alright, try it. but it’s kinda hard.” 

you look at him. “you mean like this?” 

and you trap it mid-air and volley it in one fluid motion. 

he blinks. 

“whoa.” 

you: “was that right?” 

him: “um, i think you just stole my whole flow.” 

nagi’s not mad tho. he’s excited. now he has someone to do lazy genius duos with. 

he immediately suggests skipping the rest of practice and just going pro together. 

bachira meguru 

he’s full of sparkles and spins the ball on his finger before juggling it in a zig-zag pattern across the field like a circus act. 

“okay cutie, your turn, but don’t stress if it’s messy the first ten years.” 

you blink. “you want me to do that?” 

him: “LOL nooo… unless???” 

you try it. and by some miracle or muscle memory from dance or gymnastics or whatever divine chaos lives in your body, you nail the dribble. 

he screeches. 

like full volume. picks you up and spins you like a helicopter. 

“you’re possessed by a soccer god!!! teach me!!!” 

he’s immediately calling you his monster twin and demands matching cleats and jersey numbers. 

training is now just the two of you goofing around and inventing new flashy combos. 

kaiser michael

he was only demonstrating. not asking you to compete. 

“watch and learn, liebling,” he says, tossing you a wink. 

then he pulls off his signature kaiser impact like it’s casual. 

you clap. “so… you want me to do that?” 

“obviously not. unless you want to destroy your feet.” 

you attempt it anyway. 

and somehow, your shot is smoother. it hits the net harder. and you land with zero effort. 

kaiser’s jaw is on the floor. 

“did you… did you just out-kaiser me?” 

you blink innocently. “i thought i was just copying?” 

he is in his villain arc. he stares off dramatically and mutters “she’s my greatest rival” under his breath. 

but he’s also holding your hand the entire walk home like you just saved his life. 

shidou ryusei

“alright baby, this one’s hot.” 

he launches himself into a wild, mid-air scissor kick like an absolute maniac. 

lands on his feet, smirks, and flexes. 

“that was sexy, right?” 

you raise an eyebrow. “i can try.” 

he laughs. laughs. “what are you gonna do, cartwheel and break your nose?” 

and then you scissor kick it perfectly. 

not only that, you somehow make it look graceful. 

he’s silent. 

then bursts into laughter and tackles you into the grass. 

“BROOOO you’re cracked!!! marry me again!!!” 

he now insists on being your hype man every single time you breathe near a soccer ball. 

“watch out, my girl’s got hops and precision. she’s a menace.” 

karasu tabito

karasu, the king of cool, casually rolls the ball up with his foot and does one of his famous elastic cuts followed by a no-look assist shot. 

“kinda difficult. probably too fast to pick up on first try,” he smirks. 

you try. you nail it. 

first try. no hesitation. 

the ball glides into the net like you’ve been doing it since birth. 

karasu slowly removes his imaginary sunglasses. 

“… are you a government experiment?” 

you: “is that your way of saying good job?” 

he’s lowkey impressed and also mildly panicked that he might not be the slickest one in the relationship anymore. 

but he gets over it quick and says, “cool. we should do duo trick shots and make money.” 

mikage reo

reo is SO dramatic about teaching you. 

he plans a whole lesson, brings cones, makes a playlist. 

“this is gonna be our bonding day, babe! you’ll learn from the best.” 

you: “okay, show me something fancy.” 

reo: “say less.” 

he dribbles between cones with lightning footwork and ends with a clean nutmeg-shot combo. 

then turns and bows. 

“good luck topping that–” 

you do it. all of it. smoother. faster. even add a little spin at the end. 

reo’s soul leaves his body. 

“HOW???” 

you shrug. “i just… watched?” 

he is clapping like a proud stage mom but also spiraling a little. 

“okay, but i still look better doing it, right? right???” 

he makes you wear matching jerseys and calls you his "soccer power couple" for a week straight. 

niko ikki

you ask him for soccer tips and he gets all shy but serious. 

“o-okay… just, uh, follow my lead.” 

he does this intense, stealthy feint he’s known for, disappearing around your blind spot and curving it in. 

he’s proud. it’s his baby move. 

then you do it. perfectly. with the same footwork, the same angle, the same curve. first try. 

he stares at you in disbelief. 

“was that… did you just read my blind spot?” 

you: “i mean… yeah? it made sense.” 

he looks at the ground. 

“am i… obsolete?” 

you immediately shower him with praise, telling him you learned it because he made it look so cool. 

he softens. 

“… okay. just don’t start covering your forehead, too. we can’t both be mysterious.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSAFEWORD * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Matt comes home angry after a stressful day and takes it out on Y/N, making her use her safeword.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　SMUT ‼️ explicit language, p in v, Mean!Matt, rough sex, slight dumbification/degradation, pet names, hair pulling, use of safeword, crying.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

"Matt- please, I can't-" Y/N's body trembled under Matt's relentless touch, her breath hitching in her throat as waves of pleasure and pain intertwined in a cruel dance that had been going on for hours.

Matt had been different tonight; more intense, more demanding, more relentless. But beneath the surface, Y/N could sense the weight of something darker, something that had driven him to this edge.

He had returned from his day full of meetings with tension radiating from every pore, his usual warmth replaced with an icy determination that made Y/N’s heart race with equal parts fear and excitement.

She couldn't lie and say that she didn't loved how he pushed her, how he could make her body sing in ways no one else ever had, but tonight, he was pushing her beyond her limits. His hands were rougher, his words sharper, filled with a biting edge of degradation that made her cheeks flush with shame and arousal.

"Fuck, you’re such a dirty little slut." Matt growled, his voice rough, almost feral as he pressed her face into the mattress, his grip on her hips tight enough to bruise. "Look at you, so fucking needy. Is this all you’re good for? Spreading your legs and taking my cock?"

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, the sting of his words cutting deep. They had always enjoyed playing on the edge of roughness, pushing each other to the brink, but at that moment there was an edge to Matt’s tone that was darker, more vicious, and it scared her as much as it turned her on.

"Matt-" She gasped loudly, feeling his tip brushing against her most sensitive spot.

"Yeah, baby? You like being used like this, don’t you?" Matt continued, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. "Such a fucking whore, taking everything I give you, begging for more."

Tears pricked at the corners of Y/N’s eyes, her body barely keeping up with the intensity of his thrusts, each one sending shockwaves through her body, pushing her further and further into a headspace where all she could feel was him; his roughness, his anger, his need.

Her mind was a chaotic mess of conflicting emotions. She adored the way Matt had the power to dominate her, the way he could take control and make her feel small, vulnerable, but safe.

But now, there was no safety net, no gentle undertone to his words, no soft looks, or tender touches to remind her that this was just play. It felt real - too real - and it terrified her. She was on the verge of tears, her body betraying her as it responded to his cruel words and rough touch with mindless, desperate arousal.

"Answer me." Matt snarled, his hand fisting in her hair and yanking her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, burning with an intensity that made her stomach twist with a mixture of fear and need. "Tell me what you are. Tell me how much you fucking love this."

"I-I love it." Y/N stammered, her voice shaky, barely audible as she tried to keep up with the relentless pace he had set, shuddering. "I love being your s-slut, Matt. Please..."

"Please, what?" He demanded, interrupting her, his lips curling into a cruel smirk as he watched her struggle beneath him. "Please fuck you harder? Is this not enough?"

Her mind was spinning, her thoughts tangled in the web of humiliation and desire he had woven around her. She had always trusted Matt, trusted that he knew her limits. But in that moment, she could see no sign of the man who held her after, who whispered sweet words of love and reassurance.

"You’re so fucking pathetic, doll." Matt muttered in a mockery tone, his hand traveling around her stomach, feeling a small bulge below his palm. A smirk stretched acros his lips before he pressed his hand down on her lower abdomen, making her gasp as the sensation of his cock filling her completely overwhelmed her. "Look at that, dove. You’re so fucking full of me, you can see it, yeah?"

Y/N couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down her cheeks, a whimper escaping from her throat and her body trembling with a mixture of pleasure and pain, her mind reeling from the intensity of it all. She could feel herself breaking, her mind teetering on the edge of something dark and terrifying. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

Her lower body tried to react for itself, moving relentlessly while trying to move away from his hands, away from his touch. But Matt didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. He was lost in his own world, driven by something darker than either of them had ever encountered in their time together.

"Hmm, making me feel s'good, 'were only made for that... you’re not even good for anything else, are you? Just a tight little cunt for me to fuck until I’m so satisfied and-"

"Red." She gasped out, interrupting his sentence abruptly, her voice breaking as the safe word slipped past her lips. "Red, Matt. Please... stop. Please-"

As Y/N's shout registered inside his mind, Matt’s entire world ground to a halt. The haze of anger and lust that had clouded his mind evaporated in an instant, leaving him feeling cold and hollow. He stilled immediately, his breath catching in his throat as he processed what she had just said. The safeword; the one word they had agreed upon to stop everything if it ever became too much. And she had used it.

A wave of dread washed over him as he realized what he had done. He had pushed her too far, been too rough, and now she was lying beneath him, trembling, with tears streaming down her angel face. The guilt was immediate and overwhelming, threatening to choke him as he remained still inside her, his body frozen in place.

"Fuck." Matt whispered, his voice shaking with a mixture of fear and remorse.

He wanted to pull out immediately, to give her the space she needed, but he knew that would only cause her more pain. Instead, he took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him, and began to gently caress her body, his hands trembling as they moved over her tense and sore muscles.

"Shh, baby, I’m here." He murmured, his voice cracking as he started to stroke her back and shoulders, feeling the tight knots of tension beneath his fingertips.

He could see how red and irritated her skin was, the marks left by his rough hands and relentless pace, and it made him feel like the worst kind of monster. He wanted to cry, the weight of what he had done crushing him, but he held it together for her. She needed him to be strong now, to take care of her, and that was the least he could do after everything.

"I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N." Matt whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he continued to gently rub her sides, his hands gliding over her warm, tender skin. He pressed soft, apologetic kisses to her shoulder, feeling the salt of her sweat mingling with his lips. "I didn’t mean to hurt you, dove. I never wanted to push you this far. Please forgive me. I’m so, so sorry."

Y/N’s body was still trembling, her breath coming in shaky gasps as she tried to come down from the intense high he had forced her into. The feel of his hands on her, so gentle now, so careful, was a stark contrast to the brutal pace he had set before, and it was both soothing and heartbreaking at the same time. She could hear the pain in his voice, the guilt that was eating away at him, and despite everything, she wanted to reassure him that she was okay, that they were okay.

Matt’s hands continued their slow, tender exploration of her body, trying to soothe the aches and pains he had caused. He traced the lines of her muscles, feeling the tension slowly start to ebb away as she relaxed under his touch, though her body still quivered with the aftershocks. His heart ached as he observed her state, and he couldn’t stop the endless stream of apologies that flowed from his lips nonstop.

"I’m gonna slip out now, okay?" He whispered, his voice trembling as he pressed another soft kiss to her temple. He waited for her response, needing her to give him the okay before he made a move.

When she finally nodded, her eyes still closed, he took a deep breath and began to withdraw from her, moving as slowly and gently as possible. Despite his care, Y/N hissed in pain as he pulled out, her body still too sensitive, too raw from the hours of overstimulation. The sound made his heart shatter all over again, and he felt a fresh wave of guilt crash over him, his stomach twisting with self-loathing.

"Shit, I know, I know... I’m sorry, dove." He choked out, his voice barely above a whisper as he finally freed himself from her body, feeling the absence of her warmth immediately. "I’m so fucking sorry."

"It's alright. Just... Can you hold me? Please?" Her voice sounded so vulnerable, so small.

"Of course! Of course, sweetheart." Matt rushed his answer, laying by her side. He reached for her, pulling her into his arms and holding her close, his heart breaking at the way she winced as she shifted against him.

Y/N nestled into his chest, her body still trembling but beginning to calm as she felt his arms around her, his strong embrace a comfort after the storm. She could hear his heartbeat, fast and erratic beneath her ear, and she knew he was just as shaken as she was. Her own tears had slowed, though her eyes still burned with the remnants of the emotions he had dragged out of her.

"It’s okay." She whispered, her voice hoarse from the intensity of their session. "It’s okay, Matt."

But it wasn’t okay, not for Matt. He didn't know how she could say that when he, himself, couldn’t forgive himself for pushing her to the point where she had to use their safe word, where he had hurt her so badly that she had to stop him. The guilt gnawed at him, and he held her even tighter, as if he could somehow make up for the damage he had done by never letting go.

"I don't deserve you." He whispered again, his voice breaking as he buried his face in her hair, his body shaking with the force of his feelings. "I never wanted to hurt you, baby. Please, please, can you forgive me, angel?"

Y/N could feel the weight of his guilt pressing down on him, the way his body trembled with the effort to hold back his own tears, and it broke her heart. She knew he hadn’t meant to hurt her, knew that he had lost control in the heat of the moment, but she also knew that she needed to help him understand that she didn’t hate him for it; that she still loved him, and that they could get through this together.

"I forgive you." She whispered, her voice soft but firm as she lifted her head to look at him, her hand coming up to cup his cheek as if he was her most precious thing. "I know you didn’t mean it, Matt. We are okay. I’m okay. I promise."

Matt looked down at her, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, and he could see the truth in her gaze. She wasn’t angry with him, wasn’t pulling away from him. She was still here, still in his arms, and that was enough to start mending the cracks that had formed in his heart.

"Thank you." He whispered, his voice full of gratitude and love as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, his hands stroking her hair, her back, anything he could touch to reassure himself that she was still with him. "I love you so fucking much, Y/N. I’ll never let it get like that again, I promise."

"I know you won’t." Y/N whispered back, her voice full of conviction as she curled into him, seeking the comfort and safety of his embrace. "I trust you, Matt. With my life."

He held her like that for what felt like hours, the two of them wrapped up in each other as the intensity of the night slowly began to fade, leaving only the love they shared.

Matt continued to murmur soft apologies and words of love, his hands never stopping their soothing motions as he tried to make up for the pain he had caused. And gradually, as the night wore on and the exhaustion of their emotional and physical ordeal set in, Y/N’s eyes began to drift closed, her body finally relaxing completely in his arms.

Matt felt her breathing even out, her body going limp against him as sleep claimed her, and only then did he allow himself to relax, the tension he had been holding onto finally slipping away. He pressed a final, tender kiss to her forehead, his heart swelling with love for the woman in his arms, and whispered one last apology before he too succumbed to the pull of sleep, his arms wrapped protectively around her as they drifted off together.

© vanteguccir

[fiercynn]

on ao3's current fundraiser

apparently it’s time for ao3’s biannual donation drive, which means it’s time for me to remind you all, that regardless of how much you love ao3, you shouldn’t donate to them because they HAVE TOO MUCH MONEY AND NO IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH IT.

we’ve known for years that ao3 – or, more specifically, the organization for transformative works (@transformativeworks on tumblr), or otw, who runs ao3 and other fandom projects – has a lot of money in their “reserves” that they had no plans for. but in 2023, @manogirl and i did some research on this, and now, after looking at their more recent financial statements, i’ve determined that at the beginning of 2024, they had almost $2.8 MILLION US DOLLARS IN SURPLUS.

our full post last year goes over the principles of how we determined this, even though the numbers are for 2023, but the key points still stand (with the updated numbers):

when we say “surplus”, we are not including money that they estimate they need to spend in 2024 for their regular expenses. just the extra that they have no plan for

yes, nonprofits do need to keep some money in reserves for emergencies; typically, nonprofits registered in the u.s. tend to keep enough to cover between six months and two years of their regular operating expenses (meaning, the rough amount they need each month to keep their services going). $2.8 million USD is enough to keep otw running for almost FIVE YEARS WITHOUT NEW DONATIONS

they always overshoot their fundraisers: as i’m posting this, they’ve already raised $104,751.62 USD from their current donation drive, which is over double what they’ve asked for! on day two of the fundraiser!!

no, we are not trying to claim they are embezzling this money or that it is a scam. we believe they are just super incompetent with their money. case in point: that surplus that they have? only earned them $146 USD in interest in 2022, because only about $10,000 USD of their money invested in an interest-bearing account. that’s the interest they earn off of MILLIONS. at the very least they should be using this extra money to generate new revenue – which would also help with their long-term financial security – but they can’t even do that

no, they do not need this money to use if they are sued. you can read more about this in the full post, but essentially, they get most of their legal services donated, and they have not, themselves, said this money is for that purpose

i'm not going to go through my process for determining the updated 2024 numbers because i want to get this post out quickly, and otw actually had not updated the sources i needed to get these numbers until the last couple days (seriously, i've been checking), but you can easily recreate the process that @manogirl and i outlined last year with these documents:

otw’s 2022 audited financial statement, to determine how much money they had at the end of 2022

otw’s 2024 budget spreadsheet, to determine their net income in 2023 and how much they transferred to and from reserves at the beginning of 2024

otw’s 2022 form 990 (also available on propublica), which is a tax document, and shows how much interest they earned in 2022 (search “interest” and you’ll find it in several places)  

also, otw has not been accountable to answering questions about their surplus. typically, they hold a public meeting with their finance committee every year in september or october so people can ask questions directly to their treasurer and other committee members; as you can imagine, after doing this deep dive last summer, i was looking forward to getting some answers at that meeting!

but they cancelled that meeting in 2023, and instead asked people to write to the finance committee through their contact us form online. fun fact: i wrote a one-line message to the finance committee on may 11, 2023 through that form, when @manogirl and i were doing this research, asking them for clarification on how much they have in their reserves. i have still not received a response.

so yeah. please spend your money on people who actually need it, like on mutual aid requests! anyone who wants to share their mutual aid requests, please do so in the replies and i’ll share them out – i didn’t want to link directly to individual requests without permission in case this leads to anyone getting harassed, but i would love to share your requests. to start with, here's operation olive branch and their ongoing spreadsheet sharing palestinian folks who need money to escape genocide.

oh, and if you want to write to otw and tell them why you are not donating, i'm not sure it’ll get any results, but it can’t hurt lol. here's their contact us form – just don’t expect a response! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[moondustbaby]

Always On Your Side

bsf!Rafe x bsf!Reader

a/n: based on this request! 💌

summary: You walk out of a party after an argument with Topper and Kelce leaves you fuming. But Rafe’s not far behind — because when you’re upset, he’s already halfway out the door to find you.

⸻

You shouldn’t have come to this party.

That was your first mistake.

Your second mistake was letting Rafe talk you into pregaming with the boys—because now you’re standing in a stranger’s kitchen, clutching a red solo cup filled with watered-down tequila Sprite, trying not to lose your shit on Topper.

“Okay, but you literally said—”

“No, you said that!” Topper cuts you off with a loud laugh, pointing at you like you’re some kind of joke. “I said it’s not that deep. You’re the one who made it a whole thing.”

You blink. “Because it was a thing—”

Kelce interjects from the other side of the island, already grinning. “She’s getting mad. Look at her.”

Your blood heats instantly.

You open your mouth to fire back, but Topper holds up his hands like you’re hysterical, voice patronizing. “Relax. Jesus. You’re cute when you’re mad, but like—just take a breath.”

That’s it.

You slam your cup down on the counter and shoot both of them the nastiest look you can muster. “Fuck you. Both of you.”

“God, she’s feisty tonight—”

You flip them off as you spin on your heel and storm out of the kitchen, pushing past sweaty strangers and trying not to scream. You hear Kelce laugh, and Topper say something else—probably another you’re overreacting or calm down—but it’s drowned out by your pulse rushing in your ears.

You barely make it down the front steps before you hear him.

“Hey.”

You don’t stop walking.

“Hey.” He calls again—closer now. “Slow down.”

“I’m fine,” you snap over your shoulder, marching toward the street.

Rafe catches up anyway.

Long strides, slightly out of breath, hoodie hanging off his broad shoulders, baseball hat tugged low. He jogs up beside you, a little frown forming as he sees the look on your face.

“You’re not fine,” he says gently.

You look away, jaw clenched.

“Seriously, talk to me.”

You keep walking, arms crossed tight. “I don’t wanna talk.”

“Okay. That’s fine,” Rafe says easily. “We don’t have to talk. But can you slow down so I don’t have to jog beside you like a golden retriever?”

You crack a tiny smile despite yourself, biting the inside of your cheek.

He sees it. Smirks. “There she is.”

You shake your head, eyes still stinging with rage. “They’re so fucking stupid, Rafe.”

“I know.”

“And they think it’s funny to just—to gang up on me and laugh and treat me like I’m some dumb girl who doesn’t know what she’s talking about—”

“I know, baby.”

The word slips out without hesitation. Like it belongs to you.

You go quiet.

Rafe’s voice softens, warm and grounded. “You’re not dumb. And they know you’re not dumb. They’re just dickheads when they’re drunk.”

“They weren’t even drunk,” you mutter.

“Even worse.”

You finally stop walking, turning toward him. You fold your arms tighter, chin tilted up.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Rafe blinks. “I was literally halfway across the kitchen—”

“Yeah, but you always say something. You’re always on my side.”

“I am on your side,” he says quickly. “Always. But I didn’t even hear what started it—by the time I looked over, you were already going full murder mode.”

You scoff. “Nice.”

“Hey,” he steps closer. “I’m not making fun of you.”

“You laughed.”

“I smiled. Different.”

You narrow your eyes.

He’s not smiling now.

He just stands there, letting you breathe.

“You know I’d never let anyone actually mess with you, right?” he says after a second. “I’m not gonna let Topper or Kelce—or anyone—treat you like shit. That’s not happening.”

You swallow hard. Your voice drops. “Felt like it was.”

Rafe’s jaw tenses.

He steps in again—close now, his cologne and hoodie and those sharp blue eyes all wrapped around you like a net.

“Then I’ll talk to them,” he says simply. “I’ll get in their faces. I don’t give a fuck.”

You blink. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

“Rafe—”

“They make you cry?”

You hesitate. “No.”

“Wanna cry?”

You nod once.

He exhales. “Then yeah. They’re getting an earful. Maybe worse.”

The corner of your mouth tugs up. “You gonna fight Topper?”

“If he says one more dumbass thing, I might.”

You sniff, finally letting your arms drop to your sides.

“Thanks for coming after me,” you mumble.

He shrugs. “You stormed off like a main character. What was I supposed to do?”

You let out a small laugh. “Oh my god.”

“No, like—full dramatic walkout. Spinning on your heel, flipping everyone off. I had no choice.”

You hide your face with your hands. “Shut up.”

He’s grinning now. “You looked hot, though. Not gonna lie.”

You nudge him with your elbow, rolling your eyes. “Rafe.”

“What?”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You love it.”

You exhale a quiet laugh. “I really do.”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “You good now?”

You nod, still avoiding his eyes. “I just—I hate when they talk to me like that. Like I’m some little sister they get to pick on.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t,” Rafe says, voice suddenly firm. “They don’t get to talk to you like that. You’re not some side character. You’re my—”

He stops.

Then shrugs again, more relaxed this time.

“You’re my person. That’s it.”

Your throat tightens.

“I know,” you say softly. “You’re mine too.”

A pause.

“I love you, y’know.”

Rafe looks over at you, eyes soft. “I love you more.”

You nudge him again, and this time, he tugs you into a sideways hug, arm slung over your shoulders as the two of you start walking back toward the house.

“You still wanna go back in?” he asks.

You shrug. “Not really.”

He nods. “Cool. We’re leaving.”

“Rafe—”

“Nope,” he says, already pulling out his keys. “I’m taking you home. Or—my place. We’ll get food. Watch something dumb. You’re done being mad for the night.”

You sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder as he steers you toward the truck. “You’re really bossy when I’m upset.”

“I’m always bossy,” he says, flashing a grin. “But yeah. Especially when someone messes with you. That’s my cue.”

You smirk. “You really don’t have to fix everything for me.”

He opens the passenger door for you, voice quiet as he looks at you. “I know. But I want to.”

a/n: hi hi!! thank you for the request angel! give me bsf!rafe chasing after reader the second she storms off?? absolutely yes. no one gets to make you feel small when rafe’s around. i hope you love this soft, protective moment and as always, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

♥️ lani

Send Me Requests! 💌

Masterlist

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉:

@psychicnatural @superlegend216 @rafesbabygirlx @raineshua @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @angelofcigs @tiaajosephin

[mixolya]

Okay hear me out what if reader was a kpop idol and do u know how twice preformed at a football studio or sum like that

I’d love to see kpop idol reader x Itoshi sae

ᓚᘏᗢ — sae itoshi: behind the scenes !

synopsis: as the leader of one of korea's biggest girl groups, you're used to pressure of the stage. but nothing quite compares to the way sae itoshi watches you from the bench.

sae itoshi x idol!reader ⭑ fluff / secret relationship / sae my sweet loverboy + likes & reblogs are appreciated <3

note: HUIJDKVIDJSDJKC i heard u out girl

madrid, spain - santiago bernabéu stadium halftime - el clásico, re al vs barcha

the halftime show wrapped in a thunder of cheers, but you barely heard it. your chest heaved with adrenaline, your ears rang with the final beat of your newest title track, and your hair clung to the sweat along your jaw. the other girls grinned beside you, waving to the crowd, soaking in the moment, but your focus had already zeroed in on the far end of the pitch, where the re al players sat cooling off. where he sat.

sae itoshi, cold as ever, towel slung low around his neck, eyes drooped beneath damp bangs, but you felt the way they tracked you. you knew that look, it wasn't the deadpan boredom he showed the press. it wasn't the lazy disdain he showed opponents, it was the one he gave you in hotel rooms with locked doors and too few hours to waste.

and he was giving you that look in front of a stadium full of people. eighty thousand, to be exact.

"y/n, the ball!" one of the staff called, tossing you a pristine match ball with a wink. "you said you wanted to try shooting into the net, right?"

your groupmates giggled behind you, forming a semicircle as the cameras followed your every step toward the box. you adjusted your mic pack, tucking hair behind your ear, and glanced subtly (you hoped) toward the bench again.

you turned toward the net, and then you ran. your heel clipped the grass like second nature, leg extending, power snapping through your body as you shot. the ball arced beautifully, maybe not pro level, but definitely impressive, and slammed into the top right corner. the crowd erupted. you turned to your group with a mock bow, biting back a laugh, then made the mistake of looking toward him again.

he was standing now, still infuriatingly calm, but the tip of his ears were pink. and when your gaze caught his, something hot sparked between you. a challenge, maybe?

you knew he'd find you later. backstage, behind closed doors, away from the lights and the cameras. where he'd drop the act, and you'd stop pretending not to want him just as much.

⭑

the roar of the stadium faded as you made your way down the tunnel, surrounded by staff and dancers, a towel around your neck and your in-ears already yanked out. you could still feel the high from performing, heart racing, limbs humming with energy. but all that paled next to the anticipation curling hot in your stomach, because he would come. he always did.

your group's dressing room was chaos. makeup touch-ups, high-pitched laughter, water bottles cracked open, stylists gushing about your goal shot like it was the winning penalty. you smiled, nodded, laughed where appropriate.

but when your manager got distracted dealing with a reporter, you slipped away. the hallway was quieter. the hum of the overhead lights and the low thud of music from the arena's speakers filled the silence. your heartbeat still hadn't slowed from the adrenaline of the stage, but now it pounded for a different reason. and then: footsteps.

you turned, and there he was. hair damp, jersey clinging to his skin, eyes locked on you like gravity. sae itoshi, who didn't smile for the cameras, who barely spoke in interviews, who only ever softened when the world wasn't looking.

so you ran. shoes echoing against the flooor, stage makeup still fresh, lungs tightening, but you crashed into him with all the weight of everything you'd held in for weeks. his arms caught you easily like they'd been waiting. neither of you said a word.

you buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in sweat and mint and him, clinging to his waist like the moment would slip if you loosened your grip. and he just stood there, arms around your back, the curve of his palm resting warm against your spine.

after a beat, you heard it, quiet and muffled against your hair: "you killed it out there."

you laughed softly into his collarbone. "you watched everything?"

"course i did," he murmured. "saw you shoot like you owned the pitch."

you leaned back slightly, still in his arms. "we're not supposed to do this in public, you know."

he gazed down at you, eyes lidded and heavy. "you think i care right now?"

you stared at him and he kissed your forehead, quick and hidden in the shadows of the tunnel, but it said everything. you were his secret but never once had you felt like a second choice. the silence between you stretched. you both knew your teams were looking for you, knew someone could turn the corner and catch you here, wrapped up in each other like this. but neither of you moved.

"you looked good," he finally said. "on stage."

you let out a soft huff. "you looked good scoring two goals."

he shrugged. "only did it 'cause you were watching."

you raised an eyebrow. "don't start acting all soft on me now."

he smirked, tugging you in by the waistband of your performance skirt. "you want me to lie instead?"

you tried to step back, but he didn't let go. just looked at you like he had all the time in the world.

"you didn't tell me you were performing," he murmured.

"wanted to surprise you."

he gave a small laugh and then fell silent again. his thumb grazed your hip, absentmindedly. "i hate this part."

"the sneaking around?"

"no. the part where i have to let go."

you swallowed. "you don't have to."

he exhaled slowly through his nose, then leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. "ten minutes."

you nodded. "okay."

he didn't move for a moment, like he was mesmorizing your face in this exact second, eyes glassy from effort, glitter still dusted across your cheekbones, lips parted like you were about to say something else. but you didn't. because he kissed you.

not rushed or hungry, but slow with intention. his hand slid up to cup your jaw, and your fingers gripped the sleeves of his jersey like it was the only thing anchoring you to earth. it was gentle but deep, like he'd been holding it in for days.

and God, did he taste like everything you missed. you curled your hands into his chest, pulling him closer, even though there was nowhere left to go. his nose brushed yours when he broke the kiss for breath, but his lips didn't leave yours for long, pressing another against the corner of your mouth. then your jaw. then just beneath your ear.

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[reasonsforhope]

"An endangered bird famous for its elaborate leaping courtship displays is being reared in a special facility where the animals are able to develop their wild instincts.

With less than 600 individuals left in the wilds of Cambodia, conservationists have shown that the Bengal florican can successfully grow up in semi-captivity, raising hope that a safe and stable population can be reintroduced to prevent further declines.

A large facility inside the 144 square miles of forest comprising Phnom Kulen National Park is the world’s first assurance colony of this florican’s Indo-Chinese subspecies. As the name implies, it’s native to Bangladesh and India, where it is also endangered.

Amid waist-high grass, soft mesh netting divides areas for these members of the bustard family to grow up in seclusion. Minimal visual contact with their keepers ensures that these birds have room to practice all the important skills they’ll need for wild living—like foraging, keeping a lookout for predators, but most importantly for a florican, how to find a mate.

All species of floricans look to dazzle prospective mates with a remarkable courtship display. Standing in high grass, they will leap between 6 and 9 feet off the ground whilst striking a heroic pose that involves tucking their legs up and leaning back.

Hardly flightless, their goal isn’t to take to the wing, but to stay airborne enough to attract the attention of a female, before falling back to the ground and disappearing among the grasses.

Unfortunately, these birds need grasslands to live in, but grasslands in their native range are rapidly being turned into agricultural land by a developing South Asian population.

Leaping into action

The Angkor Centre for Conservation of Biodiversity (ACCB) established the captive colony in 2019. Cambodia has a high degree of threatened biodiversity, with over 400 species listed as Endangered or Vulnerable on the IUCN Red List, and 56 considered Critically Endangered.

The Bengal florican is just one of 30 such species held at the ACCB for future protection. The florican has just one remaining wild population of fewer than 600 individuals among the Tonle Sap Floodplains.

Conservationists from the ACCB work mainly to educate community members, especially Buddhist communities and students, about the plight of these ground-nesting birds.

“By engaging with diverse groups, we hope to bridge the conservation gap across generations,” Christel Griffioen, ACCB’s Country Director, told the IUCN.

These connections with the community have proved vital to the ACCB’s work. During the florican breeding season, the ACCB is notified where and when a wild florican nest is located. Depending on the timing in the season and the placement of the nest, ACCB biologists may choose to leave the eggs alone, but if the conditions aren’t optimal for chick mortality, they will safeguard the eggs, hatch them in their facility, and rear the birds in captivity for eventual reintroduction into the wild.

So far, the 11 surviving birds hatched at ACCB from eggs laid in the wild, along with four wild-hatched birds that have been taken in for one reason or another, are living and developing well.

“A full-time team at ACCB is dedicated to hand-rearing newly hatched chicks until they’re old enough to feed alone. They’re then moved into a facility that mimics their habitat where they remain, with limited to no human contact, safely cocooned in taller grass and soft ceilings that allow the males to practice their mating display,” writes the IUCN, noting that Christel and her team are always trying to transfer what they know about these birds in the wild to their conditions at the facility.

The conservationists hope to form a captive breeding program to further stabilize the animal’s numbers."

-via World at Large, January 10, 2025

[yuyusbabygirl]

Run, Rabbit, Run (18+)

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

summary: you know that he is behind you. you are running. but can you make it?

word count: 920

genre: smut

warnings: SMUT, MDNI, 18+, primal play, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, manhandling, cnc vibes, lowkey breeding, no negotiation or aftercare in the fic but everything is consented to and agreed upon

nets: @newworldnet

A/N: just a quick drabble because of a picture and it wouldn't leave my mind

Your lungs burnt, your clothes had tears from low hanging branches and you had lost one of your shoes about… you actually had no idea how long you've been running. All you knew was he was behind you. You didn't dare look back. Any second wasted would mean defeat. The woods were illuminated by the full moon, a blessing and a curse. You were able to see where you stepped but he was able to see you as well. All your thoughts were focused on running, trying to get away and not let him win. 

Quickly, you turned around a corner, trying to disappear in a thicker part of the woods. You tried to listen for his steps but the rushing of your blood in your ears drowned out all noise. In the distance you saw the cabin, your destination. Relief ran through you and you pushed yourself harder to make it before he caught you. 

But your relief was short-lived. Before you could reach the wooden steps a hand tangled itself in your hair and pulled. Hard. With a scream you fell backwards, the growl coming from him echoing in the dark empty woods. You scratched at his arm, trying to claw your way out of his hold. He let go of your hair, letting you fall to the ground. You caught yourself on your forearms and tried to scramble forwards, wanting to make it to the cabin, to safety. His hand caught your ankle, dragging you backwards on the dirty ground. Your nails dug into the dirt while you used your free leg to kick back at him. He caught your other ankle with ease and dragged you to him. In an attempt to throw him off, you grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it at his face. His eyes flashed dangerously and you knew any mercy he might have shown you was gone. He flipped you onto your back and yanked you to him by your ankles, wrapping your legs around his waist. You scratched at his face but he just pinned your wrists to the ground. You looked up at him, your face wet with tears, dirt smeared on your cheeks. He panted on top of you, his lips pulled into a smile with his teeth glinting in the moonlight that made him look more predator than man. He had won. 

“Mine.”

The grumble that left him made you weak. You figured he was going to drag you to the cabin now and claim his prize but to your shock he let go of your wrists and grabbed the hem of your shirt, ripping it down the middle. Your nipples hardened from the cool air. Your pants didn’t stand a chance against him, the fabric seeming to part like butter at his strength. He ripped your soaked panties next and stuffed them in your mouth. He pinned your wrists to the ground again.

“Stay,” he growled. It seemed like all humanity had left him, leaving only his animalistic side. You kept your hands on the ground next to your head while he unbuckled his belt. The clinking of his belt and his dark eyes staring down at you had you shivering in fear and arousal. He freed his hard cock, not bothering to pull his pants off. He held eye contact with you as he spit on your cunt and you knew that was all the preparation you’d get. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open while he positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance. You clenched in anticipation and fear at the inevitable stretch but you didn’t dare move your hands. 

With a low growl he pushed inside, hard and with no regard for your comfort. You let out a scream, your pussy trying to accommodate his size but he gave you no time to adjust as he started thrusting into you. His form loomed over you, the only thing in your field of vision was him. Despite the burning stretch, your cunt sucked him back in with every thrust. Sticks and leaves were scraping against your skin but the feel of his cock inside you made you forget everything else. You were still crying but your screams had turned into needy moans. He grunted on top of you with every thrust, his teeth found your neck. He bit down hard on your shoulder, drawing blood. Your hands grasped at his back, nails digging into his skin. You drew blood yourself as your nails dragged down his back and he let out a loud growl, right into your ear. He licked the tears from your cheek, all the way to your eye. His pace got rougher and more erratic, only focused on driving his cock into your cunt like he was trying to hammer his shape into it. One of his hands left your thigh and gripped your breast. He squeezed hard, his big hand closing around it completely. You cried out and it only made him thrust harder into your cunt. Your orgasm came like a wrecking ball, you screamed into your panties stuffed into your mouth. He let out an answering roar as he emptied himself inside of you. He kept thrusting, like he was trying to make sure his seed was in your womb. Fully his. Claimed. When his orgasm was completely done, he collapsed on top of you, still softly growling into your neck, licking and biting at your skin. 

He had won. And you weren’t mad.

[meazalykov]

terror arrives

barcelona femeni x female!pugh!oc

margaret (margo) pugh breaks through world class stars to score goals. so what happens when she transfers to barcelona after knocking them out of the champions league in the previous season?

the woman’s name had always been a heavy topic for opponents.

mallory pugh was the darling of american soccer, the golden girl. the one who followed the well-paved path, the one who did things the right way. 

a good youth career, senior national team. nwsl. the poster child for what a career was supposed to look like.

the younger sister… margo? margo had never done things the right way.

she is the younger sister, the shadowed talent. the one who took the road less-traveled. she is the one who was always chasing after something, even if she did not yet know what. the one who ignored the noise, the expectations, the comparisons to her older traditional sister, and ran her own race. 

literally, because margo pugh was not just fast on the pitch, she was terrifying.

tonight, the best team in the world learned just how terrifying she could be.

barcelona had confidence, as they always did. they had won the first leg 1-0, and even without alexia in full form, they were still the most dominant force in club football. 

lyon, the sleeping giant, had stumbled this season. margo? she had missed the first leg due to a minor injury. without her, lyon lacked their usual bite.

now she was back, and she was hungry.

from the first whistle, margo was a nightmare. she did not just move…she exploded. the ball stuck to her feet as if tethered by an unseen force, her low center of gravity allowing her to slip through tackles with a grace that should not have been possible at such speed. 

at just twenty-one, she was already different and already unpredictable, already rewriting the narrative that had been crafted for her due to having a sibling already in the ranks.

barcelona’s midfield, patri, keira, and aitana, were accustomed to dictating games. 

against margo, they could only chase.

at minute 18, margo picks up the ball just past midfield. she turns sharply, a half-second quicker than walsh, and she is gone. aitana reaches out, tries to pull her back…too late.

one touch. two. three. the ball moves like it is an extension of her. she slices through the space between irene and ona like a hot knife through butter. she takes a touch with her right, steadies herself, and buries it past coll before anyone can react.

1-0.

barcelona is stunned. the catalan stadium, roaring just minutes ago, falls into an uneasy silence while the away crowd goes wild. 

the aggregate is tied.

in minute 36, lyon’s press forces a mistake. renard wins the ball, flicks it to diani, who sees margo already running. she knows better than to hesitate. she sends the pass forward, and like clockwork, margo is there. 

she takes the ball in stride, past ona, past paredes…again. one-on-one with coll. this time, she fakes right. cata bites. margo drags it left, rolling the ball into the net with the ease of someone who has been doing this her entire life.

brace. 

before halftime. 2-0.

barcelona looks at each other, shaken. they have never feared a player like this before. they have never feared a twenty-one-year-old with only two years of european experience after leaving the states, but margo?

they fear her.

in minute 74, barcelona fights back and it seems like the best team in the world will have a comeback. they know one goal will send this into extra time. they push, they press, but lyon cannot break. we,, at least until fridolina gets a penalty, which she scores.

2-1.

in minute 82, the final dagger. lyon counters. margo, once again, is at the heart of it. she receives the ball at the halfway line, faced with two defenders. 

she stops. one touch. a step-over. she is gone again, but this time she does not go for a goal.

she lifts her head. she sees van de donk, waiting at the top of the box. a perfectly weighted pass splits the defense, and van de donk does not miss.

3-1.

barcelona is done.

when the final whistle blows, margo does not celebrate right away. she stands still for a moment, watching as the best team in the world lowers their heads, as their fans sit in stunned silence. 

then, she turns, running toward her teammates, arms outstretched.

the headlines will follow. of course the spanish, french, and american media will explode. for now, in this moment, margo pugh just smiles.

she is no longer the shadow, because she is the storm.

the thing is that margo had always known lyon was temporary. when she signed her two-season contract at eighteen, fresh out of high school, people questioned her decision. 

skipping college, heading straight to europe as an american teenager, it was bold and reckless some had said. however, margo had never been the type to follow expectations. she carved her own path away from her older sister who will never play in europe. 

now, at twenty-one, that path was leading her somewhere inevitable.  

when she lifted the champions league trophy with lyon, gold confetti falling around her, sweat still clinging to her skin from the 2-1 victory over chelsea, she knew this would be her last moment in a lyon jersey. 

she had done what she came to do. she had proven herself. 

she had stood on the biggest stage in club football and shown the world what she was capable of at such a young age.  

first, she had business in the states.  

the national break meant time with mallory, time with the uswnt, time to settle back into american soil before returning to europe. she didn’t talk much about what was next since her contract expired, but everyone around her already knew.  

margo had loved barcelona for as long as she could remember. long before she became the player she was today, before she was tearing through midfielders and breaking defensive lines like they were paper, she was a kid watching el clásico matches with wide eyes, heart racing every time barcelona scored. 

she had been obsessed with their style of play, the identity, their magic.  

there were pictures to prove it. old ones, dug up by the media as soon as transfer rumors swirled. 

margo, no older than five, standing next to mallory in an oversized 06/07 barcelona kit, sleeves drowning her small arms, her sister wrapping an arm around her shoulders. the picture was taken in 2010.

the jersey was so big on margo and it looked like a dress, but margo had worn it with pride.  

so when the news finally broke, almost no one was surprised.  

well, except for the barcelona players themselves.  

they had seen firsthand what margo could do, and to say they were impressed would be an understatement.  

there was a reason lyon had beaten barcelona in the champions league semifinals. a reason the best team in the world had been sent home before the final. that reason? margo pugh. 

she had run circles around them. she had been relentless. she had made even the most experienced players look slow, out of sync.  

now, that same terror was about to be on their side.  

alexia had spoken about it first. she had watched margo closely, studied the way she moved, the way she read the game. she admired it. she recognized that rare spark, the kind only the greats had. she’s special, she had told a few of her teammates, and there was no disagreement.  

some, like patri and pina, had felt something else…something dangerously close to jealousy. barcelona had been the team for so long. the standard. the team with the best midfield in the world. 

now? now a twenty-one-year-old was arriving, and she wasn’t just talented, she was a force that nobody stopped last season. not a single soul.

when margo finally landed in barcelona, the entire club felt it.  

the signing was no ordinary transfer. 

this was a statement. a warning. a shift in power.  

this time, the storm wasn’t coming for barcelona.  

it was here with them.

next part to this: 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ

masterlist

[loserlvrss]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 📽️─────wang yixiang, aka, spending quality time with your adoring boyfriend

王奕翔 &fem!rea. ⟡ drabble, fluff warn. skinship, kiss, language wc : 495HUN ++( 𝑒𝓈𝓉. 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 ). 📼 ˊˎ- req?no. move yn, my turn now :c click4more

Like the washed out color of stained wine, the cheeks of the man in your lap flushed red. He didn’t shy away when you pressed another kiss to his forehead, no, he only giggled through closed eyes. 

His lips had an upward turn to them, arms crossed over his chest. You did it again, pressing your lips to the space between his brows to elicit the same reaction—he just looked so damn cute. 

Yixiang has been lying in your lap as you watched a cartoon, adamant to spend his free time with you. And, after a while of scrolling through his phone his eyes had fluttered shut, soft sighs audible through his sleepy state. 

Of course, you froze, purposefully not even moving a neuron so he could dream peacefully. Afterall, He’d been working so hard, you figured that this was best for him, even if your legs fell off from the lack of circulation causing pins and needles. 

You‘d been glancing down occasionally, distracted by the slight pout on his lips. You admired the fullness and length of his lashes, slightly envious that you had to use fake ones to get near that amount of volume. 

And then, you laughed—he just looked so…fake in your lap. 

The vibrations had made him stir, face turning towards your stomach, hiding from the overcast light. He wrapped a loose arm around your waist, the other still sat over his mid-section. Yixiang was so close to you, you could almost feel his heart beating. 

“I like feeling your heartbeat,” You remarked, only realizing that it was supposed to be in your head when he answered. 

He pulled himself closer, voice muffled by your shirt, “Are you a psycho?” 

“You’re awake?” You almost gasped out, “I mean—wait.” He laughed, turning his head to the ceiling again but not opening his eyes. “No, I’m not a psycho…” 

“You just say creepy things for fun?” 

“No,” You huffed, “I just like you…a lot.” 

He hummed, “Well, I love you today. I’ll love you tomorrow and,” You didn’t know if it was because he was half asleep that he was confessing his deep-rooted love for you but, even shocked, you let him go on. “Forever? That’s not long enough.” 

A dorky-smile spread across your face (though he couldn’t see it), practically all your teeth on display. Then, you were kissing his face. 

His eyes shot open for a moment as you pressed your feather-light lips to his skin again and again in different places, then he closed them again. 

Once he’d had enough (well, he actually hadn’t) Yixiang stopped you, a gentle hand holding you mere centimeters from his face by your cheeks. 

“Hey, psycho,” He practically whispered, “My lips are right here.” 

And, he made you find them quickly after, shushing whatever snarky remark was hanging on your tongue. You smiled into the kiss, disregarding his new nickname for you and relishing in the moment. 

He was right, forever wasn’t long enough. 

© loserlvrss 2025. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱. networks : @blossomnet @starlit-network @k-films @kstrucknet @lune-net taglist : @slytherinshua @bbangbies @jihyokat @mystarsohee @seomisaho @atzlordz | fill out form to be added.

[annievrse]

LABYRINTH

FEATURING: TRAFALGAR LAW x FEM!READER

SUMMARY: When your captain, Luffy, tells you to run from Bartholomew Kuma on the Sabaody Archipelago instead of fighting, you end up on a submarine...

CONTENT: Fic structure: Sabaody Archipelago → Zou spoilers, canon timeline but majority canon-divergent events, acts are organised by scenes, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n. Content Warnings: Panic attacks, anxiety, descriptions of injuries, blood, passing out, trauma (Luffy & Law), drinking (one instance), torture and violence, guns + getting shot, Doflamingo (+ his past).

Crossposted on AO3: Here

ACT I... IT ONLY HURTS THIS MUCH RIGHT NOW [15k] ACT II... IT ONLY FEELS THIS RAW RIGHT NOW [18k] ACT III... BREAK THROUGH, BREAK DOWN [20k] ACT IV... HOW'D YOU TURN IT RIGHT AROUND? [20k]

See below the cut for the Reader's Devil Fruit! (This can be considered a spoiler for the fic if you want to be surprised).

The Sew-Sew Fruit: A round fruit wrapped in white thread.

The Sew-Sew Fruit is a uniquely versatile Paramecia-type Devil Fruit that grants its user the ability to control and manipulate needles and thread. From creating intricate garments to dealing devastating blows, the user’s mastery of their powers can drastically affect the battlefield—or even the very fabric of a person’s being.

Powers & Abilities 1. Needles: The user can materialize and control a variety of needles of different sizes, from tiny, sharp pins to enormous, thick needles that can pierce through armour. These needles can be used offensively, defensively, or subtly, such as sewing together injuries or fabricating traps. The user has full control over these needles, manipulating them at will to attack or defend in a variety of creative and dangerous ways.

Offensive Uses: The needles can be fired at high speed, becoming deadly projectiles capable of piercing even the toughest materials. By controlling the thread that attaches them, the user can manipulate the needles mid-flight, ensuring they find their mark.

Defensive Uses: The user can also create shields or swords, using needles to form a web-like structure of thread that blocks incoming attacks. Needles can also disarm opponents by targeting their weapons or controlling their limbs, making it harder for enemies to retaliate.

Tactical Uses: Needles can be used to stabilise ropes for abseiling, stitch up broken structures, fix broken buildings or stabilise bridges in an emergency.

2. Sew: This technique involves manipulating large quantities of thread to bind, subdue, or harm targets. The user can weave and manipulate threads in almost any environment—whether in the air, water, or solid ground—and use them to entangle or control opponents. With enough control, the user can manipulate threads to create clothing or equipment out of nothing, even adjusting their own garments to suit various needs. This ability is as creative as it is practical and can be used for a wide range of applications.

Offensive Uses: The user can conjure thick, sharp threads to slice through enemies, creating ribbons of deadly silk that can cut through flesh and bone. Alternatively, they can form spools of thread that tighten around enemies, squeezing them into submission or piercing their skin.

Defensive Uses: Threads can be used to bind attackers or shield allies. Users can also create large thread nets to slow opponents or trap them. In desperate times, the user could stitch up a torn sail or make an emergency parachute from their clothes.

Healing Uses: The thread can also stitch wounds or close injuries.

3. Seam (The Mindscape): The user has the power to pull the soul of a living being out of their body and sew it into a mental "seam"—a space where the soul can wander freely, but their physical body is left in a dreamlike, almost immobile state. While in this mindscape, the target's consciousness is free to roam, but their body remains comatose, trapped in a state where they are unaware of the passage of time.

Effect on Target: When a soul is sewn into the seam, the target's body becomes a puppet, barely alive and completely unaware of what’s happening around them. They can wander freely inside the mindscape, but they cannot control their physical body, which may be left defenceless in the outside world. Time seems to pass differently inside the seam, and a target can lose days, months, or even years while only moments pass outside.

Mindscape Reality: The mindscape can reflect the target's deepest fears, desires, or memories, often manipulating their perception of reality. This can create a disorienting environment where the target cannot tell what’s real and what is an illusion, effectively trapping them in a twisted version of their own mind.

Adverse Effects on the User: While powerful, the use of the Seam technique is taxing on the user. If the user does not manage their energy properly, there can be severe consequences. Prolonged usage can lead to excessive blood loss, typically through the hands—where the thread seems to extract life force—and chronic lightheadedness, causing the user to faint or collapse after extended use.

Permanent Effects: If the user keeps a soul inside the seam for too long without letting them return to their body, there is a risk of permanent damage to the victim’s mind, making them a mindless shell of their former self. Similarly, if the user remains in the seam for too long, they risk losing their own soul to the space, becoming trapped in a dreamlike state themselves.

4. Seam Ripper: A powerful counter-technique designed to protect the user’s consciousness from being influenced, infiltrated, or manipulated by external forces. Using the same fundamental principle as the Seam ability, which allows the user to trap souls and manipulate the mindscape, Seam Ripper acts as a mental defence mechanism, "cutting" away any attempts to tamper with or enter the user's mind.

Psychic Battles: In situations where the user is up against an enemy that manipulates minds, such as someone with telepathy or mind control, Seam Ripper is invaluable. It can break the opponent’s hold over the user’s body and mind, allowing the user to regain control and counterattack.

Countering Other Devil Fruits: Against Devil Fruits like the Magu Magu no Mi (Magma-Magma Fruit) or Suna Suna no Mi (Sand-Sand Fruit), Seam Ripper could be used as a defensive tool to sever any threads of control the enemy tries to establish over the user's mental state, preventing them from becoming disoriented or easily manipulated.

Protection for Allies: If the user is in a team fight, Seam Ripper can also be used to protect allies from mind control or illusions. By keeping their mind free of external influences, the user can focus on helping others without losing control over their own actions.

5. Interfacing: A complex defensive technique where the user manipulates large quantities of thread to weave a nearly invisible network of fine, bulletproof walls. These threads create a labyrinthine structure—an intricate maze—around the user or their allies, effectively confining enemies within a maze of unyielding walls. Each wall, while deceptively thin, can withstand bullets, blades, and even larger attacks, making them ideal for defence, trapping enemies, or controlling the flow of battle.

The technique's true strength lies in its versatility and ability to adapt to the environment. It can be deployed instantly, forming walls of thread that act as both a physical and mental barrier, disorienting opponents as they navigate the maze.

Trapping Enemies: Interfacing is an ideal technique for trapping large groups of enemies or powerful foes who rely on brute force or ranged attacks. It confines their movements and limits their ability to retaliate, while also providing the user with the ability to pick off enemies one at a time.

Control of the Battlefield: The labyrinth not only serves as a trap but as a tool for controlling the flow of battle. The user can close off certain paths, funnelling enemies into chokepoints or force them into confined spaces where they are at a disadvantage. It can also be used to protect allies, making it difficult for enemies to get to them.

Psychological Warfare: The maze is a tool for disorientation. Enemies trapped within it are often at a disadvantage as they struggle to navigate through the confusing structure. Over time, the maze can break the spirit of enemies, making them more susceptible to mistakes or surrender.

6: Binding: An advanced and highly dangerous technique that allows the user to pull memories from a person's mind and transform them into solid, real-world objects or events. When someone’s memory is extracted using the Seam or similar techniques, Binding solidifies the memory by "weaving" it into reality, making it materialize as though it had always existed.

This ability manipulates the very nature of a person's memories, turning the intangible (thoughts, recollections, or imagined scenarios) into something that can be interacted with physically. The user must be cautious, as these manifestations are not limited to harmless recreations—they can be objects, environments, or even people who appear precisely as they were in the person’s mind. Once bound, these memories can have an unpredictable impact on both the person who owns the memory and the world around them.

Trapping Enemies with Memories: The user can trap an enemy in a situation by binding a specific memory to reality. For instance, a traumatic memory can manifest as a real-world trap, forcing the enemy to relive their worst fear in physical form, distracting them long enough for an attack or escape.

Manipulating the Battlefield: Binding can be used to manipulate the environment around the user. A memory of a past battlefield, a familiar place, or even a natural disaster can be made real, distorting the surroundings to give the user an advantage or to confuse the enemy.

7: Stitch: This is the most dangerous and enigmatic ability of the Sew-Sew Fruit. It is an advanced and final step in manipulating memories. When used in tandem with Binding, Stitch takes the already manifested memory and secures it permanently in the physical world, making it an unalterable fixture of reality. Unlike Binding, which creates temporary, often unstable manifestations, Stitch locks the memory into existence, preventing it from fading, shifting, or dissipating.

Once a memory is "stitched" into reality, it becomes as permanent as any natural part of the world—whether it’s an object, an event, a place, or even a person. This technique allows the user to cement entire histories or scenarios into the present, permanently altering the world around them.

Creating Permanent Allies or Minions: If the user wishes, they can create a permanent army of memory-constructed figures or allies. Once these individuals are stitched into existence, they are real, living beings, albeit based on the memory from which they were drawn. This can be a powerful tool in battles that require long-term assistance.

Alterations to the Battlefield: Stitch can also be used to permanently alter the environment in the user's favour. A battlefield memory could be "stitched" into existence, creating an environment that traps or confuses enemies or provides a constant source of cover for the user’s team.

Weapon Creation: By extracting memories of powerful weapons or tools, the user can create permanent, reliable sources of combat strength. Once stitched into reality, these weapons would become unbreakable and always available.

Historical Manipulation: In larger-scale battles or political maneuvering, Stitch can alter the course of history by creating a permanent record of a particular event. For instance, the memory of a legendary battle or a famous leader could be made tangible, affecting the outcome of future events.

In essence, Stitch is the final, irreversible step in altering reality with the Sew-Sew Fruit. It allows the user to permanently cement a memory into the real world, creating a lasting change that cannot be undone. This powerful technique has the potential to reshape the world, but it comes with the risk of unintended consequences, personal trauma, and a heavy toll on the user’s energy and mind. It is a tool of immense power and responsibility, capable of creating eternal legacies or causing irreparable damage.

[kxsagi]

can u do one where the blue lock boys try teaching u how to play soccer but they get too concentrated and score a point against u / make u fall LMFAO

"𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲"

a/n: YES THIS WOULD BE ME

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, kunigami rensuke, otoya eita, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, kaiser michael, ness alexis

isagi yoichi

he tries to be gentle. he really does. but the moment he sees an opening? muscle memory kicks in. 

"okay, just block me when i try to dribble –" 

ankle broken (not actually but nearly). you're on the ground. 

he gasps and runs to you like 😰 “waitwaitwait are you okay?! i didn’t mean to!!” 

you glare up at him. "you said this was a light lesson." 

"i blacked out," he says, genuinely remorseful. 

buys you snacks and offers to carry you for the rest of the day. 

itoshi rin

doesn't even register that you're a beginner. starts demo-ing a drill and asks you to copy it. 

you: tries and trips over the ball 

rin: "... are you doing that on purpose?" 

you: "no?!" 

ten minutes in, he accidentally sends a bullet of a pass straight into your stomach. 

you're folded over. he's staring. 

“… you said you wanted to learn,” he says, like that justifies it.

nagi seishiro

he means well. he even tries to make it fun. like, “here, try to get the ball from me.” 

you do. 

he doesn’t let you. 

he’s barely moving and you still can’t catch him. 

he yawns, juggles it over your head, and scores while scratching the back of his neck. 

you just stand there, blinking. 

“… was i not supposed to do that?” 

no, nagi. no you were not. 

mikage reo

is so excited to teach you. gives you a whole rundown. drills. stretches. strategies. 

then he forgets to dial it down and tackles you like it’s the world cup. 

you hit the grass and stare at the sky. 

reo’s above you like 😨 “OH MY GOSH I’M SO SORRY, ARE YOU OKAY??? YOU CAN HIT ME– WAIT NO DON'T ACTUALLY–" 

buys you an iced drink and carries you around all day to make it up to you. 

bachira meguru

turns it into a game. full of giggles and “try to catch meee~” 

you’re actually having fun until he does one spin move too many. 

you reach for the ball… 

slip… 

and face plant. 

bachira runs over like “you okay?? that was a sick fall tho!! wanna see it in slow-mo?” 

you consider using him as a goalpost. 

chigiri hyoma

says he'll go easy. he says that. 

but then he does one little sprint and forgets you’re not a track star. 

he’s halfway down the field when he turns around and realizes you’re on your knees, gasping. 

"oh… whoops." 

he jogs back with a sheepish grin. 

offers you water and piggybacks you home like “i’ll just be your personal uber from now on.” 

kunigami rensuke (pre-wild card)

really tries to be gentle. like he even speaks softer. explains things carefully. 

but the moment he takes a shot to demo proper form? 

it tears through the net. 

you just turn and look at him like: 👁️👄👁️ 

“… i'll, uh… use less strength next time,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

he does not use less strength next time. 

otoya eita

flirty coach energy. keeps touching your shoulders like “relax, baby ~ soccer’s all about the hips.” 

then immediately forgets himself and goes full striker mode the second you try to take the ball. 

you fall. again. 

he drops to the grass next to you like, “you okay? want mouth-to-mouth?” 

you smack his arm. 

he grins. “so you're not that injured.” 

itoshi sae 

you said you wanted to learn. he showed up in full gear. 

he watches you dribble once, tilts his head, and says, “that’s cute.” 

next thing you know, he casually flicks the ball past you, nutmegs you, and scores without blinking. 

you stare. 

he just shrugs. “maybe soccer’s not for you.” 

he does buy you lunch afterward, though. that’s his version of affection. 

shidou ryusei

you expected guidance. support. maybe a little flirting. 

“okay, stand there. try to block me,” he says, grinning. 

you take your stance. 

he charges at you like a bull. you immediately regret everything. 

he fakes left, spins right, throws in a random front flip for fun, and launches the ball straight into the net so hard it bounces back and hits you in the chest. 

you wheeze and drop to the ground. 

he laughs. laughs. 

“you okay, baby? that looked like it hurt. but hey, at least you looked cute dying.” 

you threaten to hit him with the ball. 

he tells you he’d let you, as long as you call him “coach” first. 

kaiser michael

you say “can you teach me soccer?” 

kaiser smirks. “only if you can handle greatness, schatz.” 

you should’ve known. 

he spends the first ten minutes making fun of your stance. mimics you with exaggerated arms and waddles like a penguin. 

you try to kick the ball. he sidesteps it like you’re in slow motion. 

you try to block him. he rainbow flicks over your head and pats your shoulder on the way past you. 

the disrespect. 

“that was cute,” he grins, brushing his hair back. “but maybe you should just watch me instead. it's safer for your pride.” 

you try to smack him. he dodges and winks. 

then he scores a goal, points at you, and says, “that one was dedicated to your downfall, liebe.”

ness alexis

"don’t worry, i’ll go easy on you," he says with the most patronizingly sweet smile you've ever seen. 

you blink. “you said that last time and i ended up face-first in the grass.” 

he giggles. “that was your balance issue, not my fault.” 

he insists on doing “basic footwork drills” with you. sounds safe, right? wrong. 

within five minutes, you’re dizzy. he’s doing little feints and twirls around you like it’s a figure skating routine. you can’t even tell where the ball is anymore. 

when you finally manage to poke the ball away from him, you celebrate – 

but he steals it back immediately, nutmegs you, and flicks it into the goal like it was nothing. 

“aww, almost!” he says, clapping like a soccer mom. “i believe in you! well, kind of…” 

you throw a cone at him. he ducks and giggles again. 

“was that an attempt at offense? cute!” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[jesssssssssica]

nsfw headcannons with art donaldson!

oh cutie patootie art who WORSHIPS the land that you walk on so much so you often find yourself wondering if he's real, shocked that a man that beautiful can be so infatuated with something.

he makes sure that you know how much he adores you, making sure to kiss up and down your body, loving the way that you blush and squirm as he does so.

LOVES LOVES LOVES the way that your fingers pull and comb through his hair (especially the former action)

during your first time together, he definitely cries when he finishes, finally feeling loved in such an intimate act.

LOVES MAKING OUT WITH YOU (i mean the hotel scene speaks levels) especially the way your lips become all puffy and your eyes become dazed at the passion between the pair of you

i think that he has some serious jealousy issues and if he sees you with a boy out and about, then will definitely come over and be overly affectionate towards you.

gets pleasure from you being pleasured.

is a boob guy through and through.

LOVES to play with them, rest his head on them. watch them bounce, literally anything to do with them.

definitely loves it when you wear lingerie, loving the way it hugs your curves and loves all the bows and tassels that hang off it.

would 100% want to make out with you in front of patrick, wanting to feel a bit of a buzz for getting to kiss someone so pretty.

of course pat is gobsmacked at the smug grin that takes over art's face after you part from one another.

i think he's definitely a bit of a tight fit for you but his comforting words and terms of endearments make it much more pleasurable for you.

as well as patrick, art loves a munch and you love that he loves to munch.

art's one of those guys that stays down there for so long that you literally have to push him away with his hair.

i feel as though you really have to push for him to go a bit rougher and a bit faster and WRECK you, because as much as you love him you sometimes need to less frustrations lose.

i think sometimes you wear mascara to create the run of it down your cheeks because you know it's something art loves.

maybe sometimes he lets loose on the names he calls you, too filled with pleasure to realise some of the things that have slipped past his lips but if anything it makes you clench around him which is something that he LOVES

if you think patrick was the loud one, then you are completely wrong. ART IS FUCKING LOUD god bless your neighbours and friends.

has constant fantasies and wet dreams of you in cosplay and DREAMS of having a tennis coach fantasy, you as his little tennis prodigy dressed all skimpy, bent over the tennis net to reach one of the balls and him watching from the sidelines, cupping his forming erection.

another one of his dreams is to have a calm domestic life, so he always silently dreams of finishing inside of you and starting a life with you.

definitely can't wait to see you all bloated and full of him.

i think for art, aftercare is one of the most important things for him and he will not be able to sleep if he doesn't clean you up.

[seokminfilm]

pink & white ── lee seokmin

🤍 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🤍 warnings, non-idol au, fluff, established relationship, boyfriend seokmin, soft seokmin, seokmin and reader are mentioned to have taken a shower together (not nsfw!!), reader calls seokmin by his nicknames (reader also calls him pretty RAHHH), seokmin calls reader beautiful, kissing, dokyeom is shirtless (....yes i'm giving that a warning shut up), just bucket loads of fluff & compliments

🤍 summary, your boyfriend had shown you a new level of intimacy tonight, and you were overflowing with love for him.

🤍 author's note, giggling rn bro i swear i will NEVER get over this set of seokmin pictures idc how long it's been🧍anyways enjoy this very fluffy intimate fic cause i know i need a bit of a break from everything!

🤍 now playing, pink + white (frank ocean)

🤍 word count, 648 | for @kstrucknet, @maestro-net

"feel clean?" seokmin chuckles, watching you shake your now damp hair as you smile up at him, hair obscuring your full face. "very."

seokmin had proposed something you never thought would happen in your relationship—he had asked you if you wanted to shower together. you were initially nervous, but once seokmin had reassured you he wasn't going to initiate anything you didn't want, you had loosened up and agreed to it.

seokmin treated you wonderfully while in the shower; he had played soft jazz music, taking time to love on you and your bare body as he pressed kisses to your face, back, and collarbone. he massaged your skin softly, washing you and your hair before helping you out of the tub and drying you off.

even now, you still smelled of lavender and vanilla, your body draped in seokmin's shirt as you watched him run a hand through his dark, damp hair.

seokmin quickly strips himself of his robe, leaving him in nothing but a pair of boxers. no matter how many times you saw your boyfriend naked, you would never be able to get over how beautiful he really was.

seokmin's tanned skin shadowed every muscle and vein on his lean body perfectly, and you could smell the fresh soap even from your vantage point on the bed.

seokmin happens to turn around slightly, catching your gaze as a small smile forms on his face. "hi, beautiful. am i a good view for you?"

"more than a good view," you whisper softly, standing up from the bed as you walk up to your boyfriend. seokmin's staring at you as you walk, giggling at your cold hands as you slip them around seokmin's bare waist. his muscles flex under your touch, rippling and moving as you smile up at him.

"are you gonna kiss me?" seokmin asks, eyes locked with yours as you reach your hand up to his face, fingers tracing his plump lips and sharp jawline as you shrug, a proud smile decorating your face.

"maybe. you'd like that though, wouldn't you, seok?" you tilt your head to the side in a teasing manner. your tone of voice causes seokmin to nod, lips parting just slightly to taste the scent of vanilla on your soft fingers as he chuckles.

"very much so, yes." seokmin whispers, and you nod, cupping his cheek in your palm as you bring your lips to his. seokmin lets out a soft sigh, smiling under your lips as you allow your hand to flutter across seokmin's waist.

he trembles again, visibly shaking this time as you burst into a fit of laughter. "you're so cute, min."

seokmin's flustered now, cheeks a slight red as he covers his face with his hands. his bare torso is on display, still a beautiful sight to see as he mumbles something into his hands.

"hey, i'll stop teasing you now. let me look at your pretty face," you say softly, reaching for seokmin's hands. he lets you take them away from his face, revealing his sparkling, dark brown eyes, reddened cheeks, sharp nose, tiny beauty mark, and plush lips.

if there was one thing you would forever know, it would be that your boyfriend was one of the prettiest boyfriends you think you've ever had.

"there's my pretty seokmin." you smile, and seokmin's expression softens after a few seconds. he's leaning into your touch with ease now, searching your eyes as he lets out a quiet yet content sigh.

"i love you, more than you could ever know." seokmin's voice is sincere, dark eyes holding nothing but love for you as you nod, interlocking your hands with seokmin's larger ones.

even though silence falls between you two, it's a comfortable one, one that's thick with the feeling of love. even if you don't reply to seokmin's confession, the both of you know it's mutual.