#god I’ve made bad choices in this life

[nastytransmasc]

Sometimes I’m still haunted by memories of terrible exes from back when I dated not great people and used romantic relationships as a way of escaping the not great home life and family dynamics. Currently the ex that had the audacity to ask me to suck his toes when he wouldn’t even go down on me cuz it grossed him out is the most haunting of them all

[designernishiki]

bro kiryu is a terrible parent. he may be happiest when he's surrounded by the kids at the orphanage but what kind of genuine happiness has he given THEM? the dude provides them no stability and haruka is the one that actually looked after them the whole time while he runs off to fix up the tojo again and again. it's better that he stays away from them. even kiryu finally sees that. it's why he chose to do what he did at the end of 6. i hope he continues to leave them the hell alone.

park mirei is that you????

I really don’t think it’s that simple. I don’t think he’s a bad parent and I don’t think he’s a perfectly good one either. I think some of the things that make him a “bad” parent are actually his fault, while other things haven’t been, and are instead more of an inevitable product of the shady world him and haruka both were born into.

TLDR: it’s literally factually incorrect to say he didn’t/barely raised his kids and instead just left haruka to do it (most of 2007-2011 he was fully present and solely devoted to raising them, no other job, no other intentions), and he absolutely has done a lot for them and their happiness. however, he’s made some bad choices as well and has his fair share of flaws as a parent. most importantly, his past does tend to find him in one way or another regardless of what he does, which is not something that’s easy to solve. taking himself out of the picture hurts the kids tremendously, while staying in the picture potentially endangers/hinders the kids. I can’t say what the “right” thing to do would be, because it’s not black and white. all I can say for sure is that he did have an important and positive impact on their childhoods, and they care about him just as much as he cares about them.

(more in depth version below)

the idea that he hasn’t done anything for his kids and didn’t actually raise them is something I wholeheartedly disagree with and is just factually untrue. before he starts getting threatened and manipulated by various groups/people to get him to leave, for several years (most of 2007-2011) he was a caring parent who devoted all of his time and effort to raising those kids and it shows from how much they love and miss him when he’s gone, and in the personal problems he helps each of them with whenever he can in y3. On top of love in general, he provides them with stability, a sense of family and home, and helps some of the more traumatized kids regain the ability to trust and overcome survivor’s guilt. he’s responsible for the years of those kids’ lives they would almost undoubtedly all consider the best of their childhoods. “what kind of happiness has he given them?” a whole damn lot, frankly.

kiryu never goes back to deal with shit in the tojo clan fully voluntarily. it’s basically always because something is threatening the orphanage and the kids’ wellbeing, or because there are people he cares about in the clan, which makes for a lot of potential issues but– considering he’s not heartless and can’t just turn off the bonds he has with certain people– can’t be avoided, considering the closest people he had to family were yakuza/yakuza-adjacent, and cutting all of them (that he has left) off completely isn’t as easy as you make it seem. when daigo– who’s like a son to him in his own right– gets shot and very nearly dies in y3, no shit he’s gonna be concerned. and he’s deeply conflicted at first on what to do (or not do) about it. it’s really really really not as black and white as him being a good person or a bad person for being dragged back into clan ordeals– much of the time it’s not his fault at all. by all accounts he feels guilty and horrible for his past endangering the kids, and it’s a HUGE recurring theme/conflict that contributes heavily to his distancing in y5, and further distancing in y6.

HOWEVER. he has absolutely made some iffy choices and I’d never say he’s a perfect parent. for one, I definitely think haruka was allowed to be more parentified than she should’ve been– he needed the extra help, considering one adult raising that many kids isn’t easy, but he should’ve gotten that help via employing another adult (I was hoping mikiyo from y3 would do this, but he doesn’t get mentioned after y3 for whatever reason sadly), not relying on her for more responsibility than a kid should have.

moreover, despite her parentification, there’s several times where he makes huge decisions for haruka (and the kids in general to some extent) without her input / against her wishes, and recklessly puts himself in grave danger despite having kids who rely on him to take into consideration. it absolutely baffled me at the beginning of y6 to see that there wasn’t any real adult put in kiryu’s place while he was in prison, and that it’d just been the older kids seemingly who acted as caretakers for the household. that was a horrible oversight and I think he should’ve known better– yeah, he didn’t have much time to find someone to fill the role, but he was in contact with haruka and he could’ve had her get help from one of kiryu’s friends to find someone. there were definitely options and I’m not gonna make any excuses there. he’s not infallible, no doubt.

Shit gets really complicated when it comes to him leaving the way he does a number of times. He does it in the hopes that it protects the kids from his past that keeps springing up and endangering their futures, but the issue with this is that BECAUSE he did, in fact, lovingly raise these kids for the most fundamental years of their lives and become their father figure, ripping himself out of their lives can’t be good for them– especially considering they’re orphans who have already had parents ripped from their lives and undoubtedly have abandonment issues as it is. this is terribly complicated and doesn’t have a black or white answer at all– leaving them has the huge emotional repercussions I just mentioned, and staying potentially endangers them and their futures. there is no easy way to slice it, and even the best parent on earth would be torn if put in that scenario.

personally I can’t help but hope he gets to reunite with his family, as I know they’d want that as much as he would; but it’s for the best at this point that they don’t have to fully rely on him and him alone. kiryu needs other adults to lean on in his life, and so do the kids. I think the kids are capable of this– of building new bonds and broader support systems– but kiryu has got a ways to go.

[theawkwardone6]

Life was a stupid idea

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Headcanon: Worship

Yandere Forgotten God (tentacle monster) x GN Reader

TW: Tentacles, teratophillia, gore, dubcon, and yandere themes

He was an ancient chaos god, one that was once revered amongst humans a millennium ago. But over time he had been forgotten when his fishing village had become a city. Now he was nothing more than a tall tale. A god with no name. He no longer had a humanoid form but was now a blob of black tentacles. It was shameful how far he had fallen from grace from his own pride. He should have made sure he was never forgotten.

The god shouldn’t have been so cocky to believe that monk couldn’t seal him away but alas, this was the punishment he deserved for his insatiable greed.

So when you arrive to his shrine and accidentally break the millennium old ward, he’s shocked. Have his own prayers finally been answered? Has someone come to free him from this lonely existence?

“I’ve heard there was once a god of chaos here so I have come to pray to you… please hear my plea.” You then bowed down in respect to the shrine and cried a bit. “I do not wish to be married off to some senile, corrupt man. Please god, if you hear me, save me.” You cried before him. You wanted to be saved before married you off to some old nobleman. You shared your woes of how this man made your city nearly inhabitable with his high taxes and of his salacious behavior. How could he not be swayed? He felt obligated to help you.

And so the god did what he did best, he wreaked havoc. He used his supernatural abilities to cause a landslide onto that nobleman’s home, killing him instantly. Now you no longer had to worry about being a stupid old man’s property. You could continue on with your life worshipping him! Your god!

You visited his shrine daily and left him small offerings. Ones that he would have rejected in the past but was positively thrilled to have now. The god began to love you. How could he not be drawn to your genuine gratitude? He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been this thrilled with him… it must’ve been over a thousand years ago now? He didn’t know…

What he loved most about you was your smile. It warmed his heart and he adored it. You were his world and he wanted to be more humanoid for you…

When your visits became less frequent, he used that time away from you to try to shape his body once more. He wanted to be with you. To hold you. To touch you, but he couldn’t do that as a shapeless blob of tentacles… but he could if he was more humanoid.

And so here he was with a mostly humanoid body with functioning male reproductive organs… save for the tentacles that remained attached to his back. His face was picturesque but his extra limbs weren’t… it didn’t matter. He would do so much for you, more than any human man. You didn’t entirely have a choice.

The god diligently worked on his shrine to make it more inhabitable for you as well. He needed it to be perfect so the two of you could be here for all eternity together. Him and his savior! His beloved devotee!

When you returned to his shrine after a week of not seeing him with bruises on your face, he was livid. Who had harmed you? Why would they hurt you? Hurt his destined spouse? How dare they… how dare they.

You shared your woes and prayed for salvation once more, this time from your family. They believed you to now be bad luck due to the nobleman’s sudden death and began to verbally and physically abuse you. You looked so miserable… just like him. His poor, precious worshipper didn’t deserve such treatment. No. They deserved to be worshipped.

The god now had enough power to leave his shrine due to your generous offerings. Your worship gave him the power to become a great chaos god once more.

And the god once more inflicted his wrath upon your enemies. This time he tore them apart limb from limb, starting from their mouths to their hands and eventually to their feet. He wished to start out by ripping out the tongues that spat venomous words at you. To break every bone in their hands and feet for the pain they inflicted on you. For every sin committed against you, he would inflict it back tenfold.

This is the first time you were able to see his true form as well… you were so silent the entire time of his massacre of your family. Was he so gorgeous that you were speechless? How cute his darling was!

You began to sob when he held your face between his blood coated palms. The smell of iron was too much for you that you began to retch but he was oblivious that he was the reason of your disgust and fear. Those damn humans must be too much for you to be around… perhaps he should whisk his spouse away?

So he did just that. His arms and tentacles tightly wrapped around you as he whisked you off to your new home together. The revamped shrine. He hoped you’d love it since he worked so hard on making it habitable for the two of you!

You struggle in his grip but he doesn’t relent. You must be shy… how cute!

You try to push the tentacles from you, but they merely wrap around your form to gently massage you. He needed to calm you before you hurt yourself… it was okay!

“Be not afraid, my dear.” His voice made you jump in surprise but he chuckled. “I’m not going to hurt you… you’re my beloved after all. My savior.”

“You’re the god of this shrine…” you whispered softly, which made the god eagerly nod. “You’re Xeros.”

Yes! That was his name! The one he had forgotten over the years. You were so sweet to remember his name…

You don’t even have time to protest before his tentacles wrap around your body in an enticing manner. The extra appendages slip into the waist band of your pants and tease your tight hole. You whine at the sudden touch but more tentacles wrap around your arms and legs to keep you in place

“Your offerings were wonderful but I need a better offering since I eliminated your problem…” Xeros smiled down at you with his hauntingly beautiful face. “I demand you as my offering. You will be my eternal spouse.”

“But I’m just a human- ack!” You gagged on the tentacle that was suddenly shoved into your mouth. Your eyes welled up with tears as the god beamed at you.

“It doesn’t matter to me what species you are. I’m a god. I will always get what I want.” Your back arched when one of his slimy tentacles finally breeched the tight ring of muscles and wriggled inside of you. You moaned loudly at the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that overcame you.

“See? Why would you resist such pleasure?” Xeros leaned to whisper, his hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, “I’m far better than any mortal lover. Don’t you think so?”

Your mind is too cloudy to form a coherent reply, your eyes rolled back in you head as his black tendrils ravish you. The tentacle in your mouth soon replaced with his tongue.

This was the way you should always be. You deserved every orifice of your body to be stuffed to the brim with him. To cry and whine in pleasure that ascends human comprehension. To be his spouse and to lay his eggs.

You deserved to be worshipped as his deity

[whalesforhands]

desperation looks good on you (bully!geto x fem!reader x bully!gojo)

warnings: 18+, SMUT, dubious consent, penetration, minors DNI, i hate myself for writing this, everyone is 18+ in this

On your knees, you could barely breathe as you choked on the length in your mouth.

”That’s it- That’s it… Good girl- Ugh, fuck…” Gojo Satoru groaned as he snapped his hips forward, a hand tightening its grip on your hair and lodging his phallus deeper within the warmth of your throat.

Your hands were tightened around his thick, muscly thighs as you felt more tears beginning to fall from your eyes, mouth sore and spit dribbling from your forced open lips from the sheer girth.

Gojo had always been one to pick on you. You, the quiet, non-assuming classmate of his that kept to yourself. Sweet, pleasant and easy to get along with underneath your shy exterior. You don’t understand how you ended up with the white-haired male tripping you in the hallways, causing you to spill the various books all over the floor, him laughing at your plight. Or how he would take perverse up-skirts of your panties as you walked up the stairs, making less than appropriate comments about your choice of underwear…

“God, you don’t know how much I’ve wanted those cute lips of yours wrapped around my cock.” He angles his hips to pull out of your mouth slightly, until only just the tip was inbetween your sweet lips. 

You take the chance to breathe in through your nose, gulping in air as you cough on the precum produced from his bulbous head. 

“Aww, look at you. Such an adorable mess already.” You pant slightly, meeting his admittedly, beautiful crystal blue eyes with such fear, submission and sheer cuteness. He almost feels bad when he shoves his cock back inside your throat. 

Almost.

You looked much better choking on it anyway. 

- -

He pats your head softly, lovingly as he cooed at you. His cum dribbling from your lips as he tucked his length away, satisfied and happy from making use of your warm mouth after 2 continuous rounds.

 A slight chuckle leaves his mouth before he glances down at the mess you made on your panties between your flipped up skirt. He lets out an appreciative whistle at the sight before he drags you up by your hair, hand moving to grope one of your exposed breasts and the other reaching to feel the wetness between your legs.

”Cute.” He rubs at the moist fabric, swiftly moving the thin barrier to the side and plunging a long finger into you. “Can’t believe you got this wet from sucking some cock.” He cooed, watching you squirm as he added another finger, allowing you to cling onto his uniform as you fought to hold back your moans. “You sure you still a virgin?” He laughed, curling his fingers right into that spot within you as you let out a squeal, how did he always manage to find that spot so quickly? 

“Of course you are. I’d never allow anyone to touch my cute toy.” Gojo cackled, his fingers speeding up, in and out, in and out, curled directly and perfectly at your most sensitive, his thumb rubbing at your clit.

Oh god oh god oh god…!

”C-cummin’…!” You buried your head into his chest, gripping onto his shirt for dear life, so hard that your hands felt like they were going to rip his uniform. 

“That’s right, that’s right… Cum all over my fingers, slut.” He coos as your release coated his fingers, spraying all over the hemline of his shirt, sunglasses tipped downwards as he looked down to see you adorably clinging onto him in pure ecstacy. God, you looked so cute. 

He pulled his digits out, giggling as he watched you whine from your oversensitivity. He was sure he made you cum so hard you were seeing stars right now, from the stagger you had when he parted from you, to the dazed look in your eyes.

”Clean them up real good okay?” He stuffs his sticky fingers into your mouth, watching as you closed your eyes, suckling and licking obediently. He chuckles, watching you through those beautiful eyes of his.

“Whore.”

Yeah, he definitely needs to do this more often.

- -

You always thought Geto Suguru would be different. He was always so kind, so sweet to you.

The only who to stand up against Gojo for you.

Helping you up after you’ve been tripped, sharing his textbooks with you when they’ve been stolen, stopping Gojo when he attempts to corner you.

Geto Suguru was your saviour. The shining ray of hope from the darkness that shrouded you.

It didn’t help that he was so handsome, sturdy shoulders and toned arms brushing against you whenever you scooted yourself closer to his to better view the textbook you were sharing.

Perhaps your crush on him was your downfall. The sweet innocent feelings of wanting to be near him, wanting to be the one by his side.

The one who was desperate to learn all about him. Him, who was so different from the tormenting Gojo Satoru. He, Geto Suguru, who loved to be around you as you are.

That’s why he saved you, right? Right?

Perhaps that’s why you trusted him so easily, eagerly agreeing to meet him at his home after school to better learn that recipe to the sweet tamagoyaki he had fed to you from his lunchbox.

Perhaps that was why you were pinned against his couch, allowed his head to slot inbetween your spread legs as he teased and licked over your panty-clad core. On his knees, hands gripping the underside of your thighs as he sucked at the wet spots of the fabric.

“You’re so cute, it’s hard to resist you, you know?”

His tongue was now toying with your clit, your panties long ripped off and laid uselessly in his pocket. His long fingers deep within your core, as they thrusted themselves mercilessly in and out of you.

Was this really what you hoped for when you came here?

“It’s okay because you like me, right?” You heard him whisper into your ear, his fingers intimately threaded through your own like some sort of sick joke.

You do like him. Your eyes met his own dark ones, a reminder of a crystalline blue flashed through your mind’s eye.

He wasn’t so different, after all.

You felt the thick, blunt head of his girthy cock notch itself at the entrance of your cunt. His strong hands held your legs open, exposing you in your nakedness to his hungry eyes.

He dreamt of this. Dreamt of you. He wanted you. He wanted you to want him too.

That’s why you were letting him take your precious cherry, right? You liked him. Liked him so much. You do, right?

“G-Geto…”

“Suguru.” He breathes out, hands still holding yours. “Call me Suguru, sweetheart.”

You gulped, your kiss-bitten lips trembling as tears began to fill your eyes. “Suguru, t-that won’t fit.” You cried out, trying to buck your hips away from the imposing cockhead that sat at your entrance.

You can’t possibly take that. He kisses your tears away.

“Don’t worry darling.” He begins to slide it against your drenched folds. “I’ll make it fit. Just keep being such a sweet girl for me.”

His balls bounced against your ass as he thrusted, his hands pinning your own to the bed as you cried and moaned and whined his name.

“Mmngh! No, no! Ah, Suguru!” You cried, your hips bucking themselves up to sustain the mind-numbing pleasure you were experiencing.

How did he feel so good inside you?

Suguru grabs your hips and begins vigorously thrusting into you, his powerful thrusts sending waves of pleasure through your cunt.

Though, as a thrust swings his heavy balls against you, you had come to the chilling realisation that without a condom, he will soon be flooding your womb.

“Noooo!” Thrust. “I- I don’t wanna-!” Thrust. “Pregnant!” Thrust. He mercilessly hammered his cock down deep inside your pussy, kissing the spots inside you as you squirmed and screamed. Begged him to not come inside.

He’s not having it.

“Sorry, pretty girl.” He gives you a kiss to quiet your moans. A consolation for what he was about to do. “You’re too gorgeous not to.”

Your fingers grip tight at his hands as you let out a scream, orgasming and arching your back as every muscle begins to tingle with pleasure, squeezing his cock with passionate convulsions as your cues echo around the room, the sensations too much.

How many times have you come undone for him already?

Suguru groans, thrusting balls deep inside you. His shaft filled you completely as a warm, sticky wetness was released inside you. The hot sperm pulsating inside as you fought to catch your breath.

- -

“Repeat what I just said.”

Gojo’s hands tightened around your hips as your hands found purchase on the wall for support. Your trembling feet not touching the ground, trembling mid-air as Gojo Satoru’s cum leaked out of your abused cunt, staining your ripped stockings and discarded skirt on the ground.

Your asshole tightened around his imposing cock, your befuddled mind struggling to obey.

“B-bad s-slaves get their cunts used like c-common whores…” A warning smack against your ass as you jolted from the pressure. “And g-get fucked up the ass!” You whined out, feeling him roll his hips.

Gojo Satoru was angry. Angry that Geto Suguru got to your heart first, making him lose the bet. Why did you not fall for him first? He was the Gojo Satoru.

What did Suguru have that he did not?

Why did you love Suguru first?

Why not him?

His pounding grew unsteady, his hips slapping against your ass as you moaned and moaned and moaned.

He grips your hair, pulling you backwards, enough to pull your face back and kiss you as his hips eventually stilled, buried all the way inside your ass as he started to cum, filling up your second hole with his essence.

Your body continued to shake as you were turned around abruptly, your back against the wall before you felt Gojo’s lips pressed against yours once again.

“Please,” You heard him whisper through your pleasure drunk haze. It was scratchy, his voice soft and almost desperate.

“Can’t you love me too?”

i have no asks or requests u are all making me really sad :(

[vicocaaisha]

Thrill

Baek Harin x Reader Fic.

Synopsis: You chose thrill over comfortness. You knew she would only bring trouble, but it's her who you really like.

Warning: SMUT, slapping, fingering, mature scenes in general.

CHAPTER ONE // SUJI’S ENDING // LAST CHAPTER

“Get a move on!” You heard your homeroom teacher. Gulping as you see Wooyi walking towards the other left-out students.

You were going to join Wooyi, but they are already completed with five students already. With no choice between Harin and Suji’s group.

Looking at Harin, you saw her rolling her eyes, getting impatient. You clearly know that she wants you in her group; you wondered how that would go.

Fortunately for you, your other classmate beat you to Suji’s group. With no more choice, you walked towards Harin’s group. If looks would kill, you’re probably dead now because of Eun Byol’s stare. Whatever, you just have to keep up with this shit.

Suji seemed tense; you felt so guilty. She’s a nice girl, she probably made you feel like you’re worth the risk. But it seems for you, you love the thrill from Harin over Suji’s comfort of love.

“Alright, I’ll lead you to your designated rooms.” You heard your teacher say as he started to walk towards the hotel, and your classmates followed behind him.

Fuck.

Was the first word that came to your mind once your teacher told you that you would be rooming with Harin. Harin only.

How come you didn’t foresee this! You knew Harin would never share a room with your classmates. You only shook your head.

“Do you have a problem with us in one room?” Harin said, teasingly. “I mean you can always sleep on the floor, it looks comfy enough.” She added while smirking at you.

“No, I just thought that you would have a room for yourself only.” You replied timidly, trying not to show your dying insides because of the excitement you felt having Harin by yourself.

“Well, I’ve wanted you for so long.” Harin said as she started walking towards you, caging you in the room. You really felt at that time that the room was sooo tiny. “Now, I get you to myself.” You can possibly read her thoughts behind her eyes, she wanted you, so bad.

You really don’t know how to react. When you were in a relationship with Harin, she never really showed any affection or sexual interest to you. You never really kissed, how come she has sexual interest with you now? Or you’re just assuming things.

With that, you opened the unlocked door and ran outside. That’s one way to cockblock the love of your life. You regretted that quickly, especially when you saw Eun Byol blocking your way.

“Having fun fucking my plans?” She asked as she shoved your shoulder.

“What the fuck? What did I do now?” You were so stressed about Harin and now this bitch is causing you more stress.

“Don’t mess up my way with Harin! I wanted to be in a top university so that I could date her and now you easily get your way with Harin? What does she even see in you? You’re not even that big time unlike Doah, her father is a–”

“Oh my God. I don’t have time for this; I’m not your therapist that you could yap to.” You said walking the other way. This girl is so messed up. It’s not your fault that Harin likes you or Harin’s probably just playing with you.

“Hey, wait!” You heard Eun Byol but you just flipped her off as you walked inside in the elevator. Thankfully, the elevator’s door closed off and she didn’t get to enter.

You were going to the cafeteria to buy a hot chocolate or coffee, but you saw Suji’s group. They were gathered around her.

Suji is visibly sulking, it must be because of you. Hm. Your thoughts were confirmed when Yerim looked at your way; she looked at you as if you broke the law.

Damn, you can’t even stay in one place because you’re avoiding a lot of people at the same time.

With no choice left behind, you decided to just walk outside of the hotel, since it has a nice view anyway that would keep you from getting bored.

Your thoughts were so scattered from Harin whether she is playing with mind right now, disappointing and leading on Suji, Eun Byol making you an enemy of hers. Ugh, you joined this field trip to have a good time and now you’re on your own!

The sun is setting, it’s getting cold. You’re so dumb for wearing a skirt and a t-shirt that is also very thin. So much for having a good outfit.

You decided to sit near the lake. Sitting on a big rock, you felt as if you were being stalked. Okay, this is either Harin, Suji, or that bitch, Eun Byol, plotting your death.

Testing your luck, you decided to call out the pair of eyes you’re feeling from.

“Okay,” you paused for a second, thinking whose name you’ll call out. “Harin.”

You sighed, “Come out, I know you’re somewhere behind the rocks.” you said trying to sound annoyed.

“How’d you know it’s me?” Harin asked, feeling her presence behind you.

“I know you’re a stalker, duh.” Your sass came out of nowhere.

“Harsh.” Harin said as she sat down besides you. The wind blew past the both of you, inhaling her scent. You felt the butterflies grow wild inside your stomach. You never really moved on from her, huh?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Harin asked you.

“Sure, a thousand won per word.” You tried to joke.

“I’m serious.” Harin deadpanned.

“Okay then, are you serious with me?” You tried to fireback, but when you looked at her, she was staring at you.

“Yes.” She said with that face again that you hated. Her emotionless face, you can’t read whether she's just playing some sick joke again with you.

You sighed loudly enough for her to hear, “I really like you, Harin, and to be honest I like Suji too. I’m scared of picking you and then when you get bored of me, you’ll just leave me as if I’m just an old doll.”

“I, I’m…” You can feel that Harin is getting uncomfortable from her loss of words, “I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t know how to express my feelings.” Harin confessed.

“It’s okay. I really like you, Harin. Even if you treated me like shit before.” You said, staring afar the sea.

There was a long silence, an uncomfortable one. The silence finally cut off when Harin talked, “I’m sorry.”

“Mhm.” You tried to acknowledge her apology.

“Can I make it up to you?” Harin asked. You looked at her eyes. It looks like she is really sincere.

“I only want you to explain to me what you really feel, Harin.” You knew she struggles with showing her feelings so you expected her to walk away after saying those words to her.

“I like you too, Y/N. I swear.” Harin replied. She answered you? That was shocking.

“It was at first that I…” She paused, hesitating again. You figured you let her talk out her feelings and you stayed silent.

“At first, I wanted you to be mine because everyone in the school is fond of you. I know, I treated you like a trophy and when I was satisfied with everyone knowing I have this power even on you, I left you afterwards.” Harin stands up, walking towards the sea and picking up some pebbles to throw on the sea.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. I mean it.”

“How come you like me now?” You asked her.

“Suji.” was the only word she replied to you. You were confused, what’s with Suji?

“I saw Suji and you…” she cleared her throat before continuing, “kissing.”

Oh?

“Was she your first kiss?” Harin asked, getting aggressive on the pebbles she was throwing.

You stayed silent, not knowing what to do. Suji is your first kiss. There’s no denying that.

“Silence means yes?” Harin asked.

Getting uncomfortable in the position you were currently in, you bid goodbye to her.

You thought you finally escaped that awkward situation. Well, it’s a wrong assumption because as you were walking away, Harin yanked your hands and trapped you in between her and the big ass stone behind you.

“H-harin, I need to go.” You said, your face getting flushed from the position you were in.

You struggled as you were trying to break free against her hold. Her restraint against your hand, which was in the same level as your head, is getting tight.

“Tell me, Y/N, did you fuck her?” You can feel Harin’s voice getting ragged as she was whispering those words to your ear.

You were definitely getting horny from this.

Harin is so possessive. You didn’t even know how it ended up like this.

Harin kisses you as if there is no tomorrow. You can feel her one hand snaking underneath your skirt, playing with your panty.

“H-harin!” You accidentally moaned out loud when you felt her fingers play your clit with your panties on.

“Shush, baby, you don't want Suji to see us like this, right?” Harin teases you.

“H-harin,” you said, getting breathless and trying to stop her from fingering you out in public, “I don’t want my first to be like this.”

That sparked something in Harin’s head. You’re a virgin? Harin thought to herself. Oh boy, she definitely is happy learning this new information from you.

With that, Harin pulled you and practically ran towards the hotel room she reserved for the both of you. You forgot that there was some activity your class had to do that night, so everyone saw the both of you running as if someone was chasing behind.

Harin is excited. When you entered the room, she wasted no time and undressed you immediately.

You were left in your panty and bra. Thankfully, you always wear a set of underwear. Well, who cares? Harin is crazy about you, and now that she sees you in your undies, that feels heaven to her.

She basically threw you on the king-sized bed, and she started to remove her top. Leaving her in a bra and still wearing her jeans. God, she looks so good with her toned stomach.

She hovered over you; kissing you, hungrily.

You felt her hand behind your back, and she easily detached your bra. How is she good with this? Was she with someone before? Your thoughts got cut off when Harin started to suck on your left boob.

“A-ah!” You can’t contain your moans anymore because she’s sucking off your tit and massaging your other tit with her soft, delicate hands.

“Be loud for me, baby.” Harin said in a seductive tone. Kissing your body gently while lowering her head towards your heated core.

She slowly and gently removed your panty. You are getting impatient with what she’s doing with you. You never felt this incredibly horny before.

“God! Just do it already!” You said so suddenly that you earned a laugh from Harin.

“You have to earn it, baby.” Harin said as she slapped the side of your thigh.

You know that Harin is such a bitch, but you didn’t know that even in bed she is even more bitcher. You wanted it so bad that you obeyed her and rolled over to your stomach.

“Pick a number, baby.” Harin giggled. She’s enjoying this, such a sadist bitch.

“One.” You answered, trying to get this over with.

“What about five?” Harin said, caressing your tender butt.

“Oh my God! Just do it. Let’s get this over with.” Your patience is very thin, and it doesn’t help that you were so horny that you just wanted to finish this sadist part and get her started to finger you.

“That’s ten, for being a brat.” Harin said.

You were going to say another sly remark, but Harin beat you to it when she smacked the hell out of your butt. Gosh, that hurts, but it somehow felt good?

“Count.” Harin demanded as she slapped again.

“Two!” You squeaked, “Three!” You continued as she continued being reckless to you.

“...ten.” You said in a whispered manner. You were so tired over that, but it also felt good, to be honest.

“Sleepy, baby?” Harin asked you because of your tired expression that is written all over on your face, “We can continue it tomorrow.” Harin teased you as she massages your butt with her handprints all over it.

“No, please finger me, Harin-ah.” You tried to plead.

“Tell me what you want me to do with you.” Harin said, getting in position in between your legs.

“Just do whatever you want with me, Harin.” You said, slowly.

“I want to sleep now. Can we do that?” Harin said," Oh, she thought she was smart with that reply. If you weren’t so worn out from the slaps, you would have taken control over the shit she’s trying to do.

“No, I want you to eat me out, finger me, use me however you want, Harin.” You said in a low voice.

“Use you?” That’s a word she can do every day to you.

“Please.” With that, she dived onto your core right away. She was very aggressive. You tried to help her by guiding her head where you wanted her to eat you out.

You were practically pulling her hair so hard because of the pleasure you were feeling right now. This is definitely better than you masturbating.

“F-fuuuck!” You dragged out your words.

You thought it was getting better and better until she inserted two fingers into your hole. You’ve never inserted your finger before in you and now she’s rushing. Gosh, that hurt so bad.

You were a whimpering mess when she bit your clit too. Why is she so rough with you! You thought to yourself.

As time passes, the pain that you are feeling finally turns into pleasure.

“O-oh! Right there! There!” This is the most pleasurable you ever felt in your life. Where the fuck did she learned this?

“F-feels soo good!”

Harin suddenly stopped licking your clit and went up face to face with you, still fingering you using the same motion that kept hitting your g-spot.

You kept your eyes shut because of the so much pleasure you were feeling, but you can feel Harin’s stare under the moonlight that is the only source of your room’s light.

“Did Suji make you feel this good?” Harin taunted you. She knows the power she holds over you, and she’s not scared to push it.

You didn’t seem to understand her question, too fucked to understand.

You yelped when she removed her moving fingers inside. You opened your eyes, seeing her slurping your wetness that was coated around her fingers. That. Is. So. Hot.

“Please, let me finish.” You squeaked, desperate to have your climax.

“Answer me, did she fuck you like this?” Harin smirked at you.

You were so put up with her bullshit.

You pushed her down to the bed and were now on top of her, “No, I already told you that this is my first time!”

You started to grind on her thighs. You weren’t satisfied, though. Still, it’s better than nothing!

Harin is impressed over you taking control. She’s not the type of person who submits easily, obviously.

Harin knew that you’re getting tired because your movements became slow. She decided to help you out by rubbing your core with her fingers.

“Mhhm! Mm-oore, please!” You embarrassingly moaned right after she started rubbing you.

Harin is satisfied with what had happened tonight, so she didn’t tease you anymore and just let you reach your climax.

“Fu–ck! I’m so close, ooh!” She was hitting that spot again where it makes you want to pee. With a few more pumps of her fingers, you reached your climax.

You were so out of breath and so tired. As the pleasure slowly fades away, you can feel the sleepiness and soreness start to come over you.

You were falling asleep, fast.

Clink

You hear a lighter sound, and then you smell a cigarette smoke. Harin must be smoking again.

“No smoke, please.” You said. You were expecting her to ignore or leave you now that she got what she wanted.

No words were spoken out of her, and instead, you heard the bin open. Harin must have thrown something.

You felt her lay beside you. Removing the hair that was on your face.

“I’m sorry.” was all she said as she was fixing your fucked up hair. You didn’t reply, just enjoying the soft quietness and the fact that she didn’t leave you after getting what she wanted.

“Are you asleep?” Harin asked as she was positioning to cuddle you. You laid in silence, not having the energy to talk anymore.

“The truth is, I was jealous of Suji. That day when I saw her kissed you…” Harin said, hoping that you were awake listening to what she’s saying.

You were awake.

“Right there, and then I realized that I like you. It’s not an infatuation. When I saw how happy you were with her, I just needed to have you right away, but I can’t because I’m not good at showing my affection.” Harin continued.

“I think I love you, Y/N.” Harin felt more comfortable speaking her feelings now that she thought you were asleep.

“Mhm, take me out on a date first.” You replied groggily.

Harin was dumbfounded when she realized that you had heard her whole confession.

Oh, to be loved softly by Harin.

I'm alive!!! Just went through the worst break-up, and that's why it took me so long to update. Sorry for making you wait and enjoy!!!

Requests are open ^^

[toorumlk]

Hi I'm so freaking obsessed with your twitter.

Also what's your favorite Romione moment in the books and why?

ohohoho thank you, friend, i’m quite proud of some of the stuff i’ve posted on there B)

and as for my favourite romione moment in the books, when i read the question i first blanked out for a couple minutes, thinking of a bunch of smaller, sillier scenes. but then i remembered that i do have a favourite and it’s from chapter 11 of DH, when remus visited the trio at grimmauld place and filled them in on he goings on of the war -including the implementation of the muggle-born registry. ron’s response upon hearing this (after his immediate outrage) was

and it’s not just the hand holding and the “‘you won’t have a choice’ said Ron fiercely” that played out so vividly in my head like this:

but this scene demonstrates so perfectly the political weight of this pairing (muggleborn/blood traitor) which i think is the immovable narrative foundation of romione. all of their silly moments and idiosyncrasies aside, there is genuine narrative purpose behind this love. ron has always had an astute understanding of the blood supremacist politics of the wizarding world (need i remind that he was ready to curse shitco at the ripe age of 12 for calling hermione the in-universe slur) and just how wrong it is. ron is a pure-blood wizard and by design has so much privilege in this society bc of it, but by virtue of having parents like arthur and molly, he’s grown up knowing the importance of fighting against blood supremacist ideology. always.

so, after hearing about the completely horrifying muggleborn registry ("People won't let this happen," said Ron. "It is happening, Ron," said Lupin.), he immediately turns to his muggleborn best friend and love of his life and says “i’m making you a family member, i’m going to use the protection my family-name has and use it to protect you from the awful injustice of our situation, no you won’t have a choice but to let me help you”

i remember having such a… visceral reaction while reading this scene like holy shit .. these kids, THESE KIDS!!!!! this is the bone-marrow-deep love that makes me feel insane. this dynamic of the blood traitor/muggleborn always there, from CoS all the way to the epilogue. We get to see that romione is the story’s pure blood/muggleborn that finally made it (rip jily and tedromeda :(). we see it in hermione keeping her muggle last name after they get married (oh my god these two actually got married) and we also see it in the hyphenated Granger-Weasley (granger being first!) in their kids’ last names (oh my gof these two had TWO kids). they are a true symbol of change and progress in their world.

also this is one of those moments where i’m so glad that our only window to romiones relationship development is through harry’s narration because it so brilliantly shows the readers this blossoming love story instead of just telling us about it because harry obviously doesn’t have access to the inner thoughts of his two best friends, he can only witness them fall deeper in love. showing the audience acts of love is always more powerful and my god is this an act of showing your love to your beloved.

(and not to go on an unrelated tangent, but this is exactly why i could never ship my girl hermione w any DE or DE-adjacent character. no fucking way. not when the concept of a muggle-born registry exists in this universe, not when the antagonists in this story wish to eradicate people like her from their society. idk about the rest of y’all but im going to keep taking the narrative seriously bc the worldbuilding obviously has real world ties/implications and i like engaging with the canon. tangently to the tangent, i saw someone (a ron basher) on twitter say that ron, OUR RON FROM THE ABOVE EXCERPT, was “one bad day away from becoming a death eater” ohhhh ohhh i ought to beat you with sticks bc HUH? this is the same kid who said he would’ve boarded the train back to kings cross if he got sorted to slytherin, the house notorious for birthing DEs, at the tender age of 11)

anyways, all this to say is that romione is incredibly, realistically, materially romantic and i love them and i love their love <3

[miioouu]

Mean dad's best friend! John Price Ending

Helloooo! I’m back from the dead to drop this horrible, disgusting, bad bad final part for Price’s route! I’ve been dealing with some personal issues as well as some terrible creative blocks, so please I know it’s bad, ok? Tw: smut, breeding kink, mention of fingering and oral (female receiving), female reader Wc: 1.4k 

Your eyes kept glancing between the two men. Why are you having such a hard time making a choice? It should be obvious right? Although Simon has always been on your mind, the one you're always crawling back to, you know better than that. The voice in the back of your head is telling you to let go, no matter how much your heart will break, there's someone who'll mend it back together.

The thought alone made you smile, you gazed into ocean blues and suddenly, it wasn't that difficult to choose. His grin alone made your heart skip a beat. His hands, the way they smooth down the skin of your waist as he pulls you closer, is enough to make you melt. And you weren't supposed to feel anything for that man; only here to make Ghost jealous, only a mere distraction at first, but he's become so much more, someone you like…loved even.

You try to voice out your choice, although Price stopped you “It's ok sweetheart, I think he got it, right?” His warm eyes turned icy just by looking at the other man. And again, you hate their silent communication, you hate always being left in the dark, but the moment Simon scoffed, giving you his infamous eye roll as he turned away and slipped from your room, it was enough to make you forget all about their lack of communication skills.

It was the way his arms wrap around you as he holds you close, and the way his warm eyes gazed into yours as he smiled so adorably, that’s one of the reasons why you chose John. The way he cared about you, never talked about other women, never told you what to do. Never stern and never rude, only sweetness outside the bedroom and in it too. His hands are always soft as they gently lift your shirt up, just like he is doing right now, calloused but gentle as they brush against your skin, leaving scatters of goosebumps in their trail. His words, praising you with devotion “Maybe I don’t make you feel as good as him. Maybe he really is better than me…But you know, he doesn’t like you the way I do. Noone ever will.” But you only shake your head. Maybe you have been blinded by Ghost’s pure rough lust, but you’re not stupid enough to disregard gentleness and awe. 

His lips trailed down your neck, down your collarbones, and when usually he’d like to bite and nibble, he feels as if he doesn’t need to mark you anymore. You’re his, you know it, he knows it, Simon knows it. No need for unnecessary roughness, of reminding that you enjoy him just as much, if not more now. It’s obvious, from the way your head falls back against the pillows, they kind of smell like him. From the way your nails dig in his shoulders as you guide him back down, further down. Soft lips on your soft tummy, making the butterflies erupt in your stomach, the way he kisses you, so carefully, like you were crystal, like you were the finest porcelain, like you were the most fragile thing that has ever seen the light of the earth. 

This military man always felt like he belonged in chaos and brutality, the savagery of bullets and loudness of bombs, never did he think he’d find relishing in tenderness and kindness. Cold nights when he’d stay awake praying god would let him see another day of life, now between the warmth of your sheets, god is forgotten, John can only sin and sin over and over again, if this is what hell is like, then so be it, nothing will ever taste as sweet as your arousal. A sloppy man by nature, saliva and drool dripping down his chin as he messily makes out with your folds. Between your thighs, that’s where he truly belonged. 

Doe eyes looking up at you from below, it made you smile, how a man like him can’t contain his eagerness. Your fingers ran through his hair, pulling him closer to your core, even closer when your back arched, his fingers suddenly plunging inside you. That’s how he always did it “Wanna make sure you’re ready sweetheart. Don’t ever want to hurt you, not that way at least…”  He’d constantly say, to the point where it kept on replaying in your mind, even at the worst possible moments. He’d always make sure you’d cum on his fingers or tongue first, for comfort, as he puts it. But deep down, that’s not the reason. Knowing that he as you wrapped around his fingers, literally, always did something to him. The way you purr, thrash against your sheets when he overstimulates you with just a flicker to your abused clit, the way you beg him “Please, please! Just…put it in, fuck me!” the way you ramble, voice dripping with desperation, high pitched, and whiny. Your whining, your begging, your crying is why he does it. You’d always tell him how nice he is, but he’s cruel really, selfishly so.

It’s only when he thinks you’re ready, or in other words, it’s only when your tears are staining the pillows, only when your nails drew crescent reds on his back, only when he couldn’t take it anymore, would he push you further up the bed and hover above you. He wouldn’t even give you much time to process what’s happening. He already got your legs wrapped around his waist, and when usually he’d growl and complain about having to use protection, this time he skipped it all together. Your eyes went wide, a small gasp escaped your lips when you felt his tip nudging between your lower lips; he found your behaviour just so cute. He chuckles, leaning down, folding you as he does so, whispers lightly in your ear “You’re so adorable like that, sweetheart. So pretty folded in half for me like that…Got to take advantage of that now, soon I won’t be able to do that at all, hmm?”  It doesn’t take a genius to know what he meant by that, and even if you had any doubts, he slid into you, hissing in pleasure at the feeling of your tight walls around his cock, reinforcing his idea, making it clear. 

And why did he ever doubt you? Was the way you scream his name not enough proof that you loved him? The way you squirm, the way tears cascaded down your cheeks, the way you grabbed into him, all of that, was it not enough to make your decision easier? You’re both too stupid to realise that there shouldn’t have been any hesitation in who you’d choose in the end. 

His hips moved against yours, drilling into you at a speed you’ve never experienced from that man before, or anyone for what matters. His hands dug into your hips as he held you steady. You’re panting, biting your lips to keep your moans at bay, but to no avail. He won’t be having that. “Don’t be selfish now my darling. I’ve been patient enough, the least you could do is appreciate me by screaming my name, don’t you think?” And who were you to deny him this request? Your lips parted at his demand, his name rolling off your tongue has him picking up his pace, faster and faster, he’s reaching so deep. Although not in the fields, when Johnny puts his mind into something, he’ll make sure it happens, no matter what it takes. His fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves, it has you twitching underneath him, squirming and shaking, your voice is all choked up when you cum. Your vision is blurry, your limbs feel like jelly as your gummy walls spasm around him, really, he’s not surprised at how fast he cums when he’s with you anymore, never once did it hurt his ego. Your exhausted smile warmed his heart. A kiss on your forehead and a soft whisper of “Thanks for giving me a chance”  has you wrap your arms around him to press a sweet peck to his lips. And you thought that was the end of your night, you’re ready to be tucked in and cuddled up against his chest and be lulled to sleep by his heartbeat as usual, but no. “Oh no, where do you think you’re going, darling? No, no we’re not done yet. I got to make sure it takes, wanna see you all round for me. We’re gonna show him, I can give you what you want. I am what you need…”

[apomaro-mellow]

Demon!Eddie 1

Steve woke up to someone moving about the room. He wondered why someone was in his room before last night’s events caught up with him. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed, it never happened. Eventually he’d find himself in his own house with parents that were just disappointed in him, not psycho cultists.

“Rise and shine Sleeping Beauty. I slaved over a hot stove for your breakfast. Come and get it.”

With a groan, Steve finally opened his eyes. In the light of the morning, he saw that the walls of the bedroom were covered with posters of people he didn’t know. A gray t-shirt and some sweatpants had been placed next to him. Eddie was nowhere to be seen.

Steve closed the door before undressing. He checked his palms again. Any sign that he had been sliced was gone. But his shirt was still ripped and there was still dried blood on his stomach. God, maybe he should’ve taken that shower after all.

He put the new set of clothes on anyway and left the bedroom. It took about one and half steps to get to the kitchen, where Eddie was sitting with some cereal and milk.

“Slaved over a hot stove, huh?”

“I turned the stove on for the coffee”, Eddie said cheekily.

Steve was distracted from the quip by the large soup pot of black coffee sitting on the stove. This man might really be the devil.

“Soooo”, he sat down across from Eddie, trying to ignore the warning bells. “What’s next?”

“That’s all up to you, remember?” Eddie pushed and empty bowl towards him, along with the box of cereal. “So what does freedom look like to Steve Harrington?”

He thought about the choices his parents had given him before. For his room, blue or green. For his major, business or law. They had always told him it was his choice before giving a very limited set of options.

“I...don’t know. I’ve never had this much freedom before.”

“Well, let’s start with something simple. Cereal or milk first?”

Steve’s expression pinched. “In my bowl? Cereal first, duh.” He grabbed the box and began to pour it.

“Aah, but what if milk is the main event for me and I simply want a crunchy garnish on top?”, Eddie grinned.

“I’d like to assume you’re being sarcastic but after seeing the way you make coffee I’m just not sure.”

“What’s wrong with the way I make coffee?”

Steve looked again to the pot. He wasn’t even a big coffee drinker, but sometimes the way a person did things told you so much about them. “Who raised you?”

“Technically? Your little country club did. Been a while since someone used that summoning spell.”

“Is that how it normally goes?”, Steve asked. “You just show up, burn a few folks, and then make off with the sacrifice?”

Eddie tapped Steve’s bowl with his spoon. “Don’t let it get soggy. And to answer your question, it depends on the wish and what they give up for it.”

“They’ve been worshipping you for...years I guess. Why did you betray them?”

“Would you rather I have taken your soul and given them what they wanted?”, Eddie asked.

“I just...don’t understand everything that happened last night.”

“The spell they used that whole thing they were chanting, it doesn’t call upon a specific demon”, Eddie began to explain. “That incantation is like dialing 911. You’re kinda rolling the dice with whatever demon picks up. And for most folks’ sake, I try to be that guy.”

“So you just go around snatching up sacrifices and leaving people with an empty bag?”

“That’s a good way of spinning it!”, Eddie cackled.

“And you let them crash here?”

“Not often. Most of the time they’re just caught in a bad group or made a wrong turn. I just give em an escape route or help them back where they’re supposed to be.”

“So I’m the first person who’s such a loser I literally have no other place to go.”

“Loser is just another way to say someone’s got a not so lucky life. And hey, it wasn’t all bad before that point right? Lavish parties, nice house, people bowing to you in hallways.” Eddie was twirling his spoon between his fingers as he spoke.

“I’d trade that for a box in an alley if I knew...if I knew they were going to do that.” Steve’s brow furrowed as he stared into his bowl.

“You could still go back. Try and mend some things, follow in dear old dad’s footsteps”, Eddie suggested.

Steve scoffed and pushed the bowl away, crossing his arms. “If they didn’t want me then, they’re not gonna want me now. And I could never be like them.”

“So you’re not going into business. What then? Health, education, entertainment?”

“Well there’s no way they’re footing the bill for tuition, which means college is out, which means my options are limited.”

“Don’t be so sure. Your wish was for freedom. And I aim to keep my promises.”

“Unless you’ve got a bunch of jobs lined up willing to take on someone with zero experience-”

“That’s it!”, Eddie snapped his fingers and then stood up. “You want experience so you can make a decision. Take a shower, make a list and then we’ll get started.”

“Started with what?”

“Job hunting!” Eddie put his empty bowl in the sink and then went through a door Steve hadn’t noticed. “Be ready when I get back!”

He shut the door and then Steve was left alone. He wasn’t any less confused than he was before. But he managed to find the bathroom, wash himself up which did make him feel much better. He found a pad of sticky notes and a marker and started to write down some jobs.

He started with the kind of jobs he had when he played pretend as a kid. Policeman, doctor, zookeeper, firefighter, astronaut. Then he started thinking about careers he had a passing fancy in as he got older. Baker, writer, teacher, military.

When Eddie came through the door again, he had a wild smile on his face and Steve had a completed list.

“Let’s have a looksie”, he said, snatching it from Steve’s hand. He gave a whistle at the various jobs. “Hope you had your coffee.”

“Yeah, I’ll pass. What’re we doing with this list anyway?”

“Steve....have you ever heard of roleplay?”

The redness in Steve’s cheeks were immediate as he looked Eddie up and down and suddenly remembered the feeling of his tongue. 

“You...y-you mean where like people dress up and they um, they-”

“That’s right.” Then Eddie opened that mysterious door and Steve found himself in the middle of a precinct. “They play pretend!”, Eddie finished.

Steve looked down at himself and saw an officer’s uniform.

“You’re gonna live a day in the life until you figure out whatchu wanna do”, Eddie beamed, giving him a nudge with his shoulder.

Steve heard a clinking and saw that Eddie was handcuffed. Today was going to be a ride.

Part 3

Tag Team:

@michael-the-angelo @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas

@estrellami-1 @weirdandabsurd42 @lololol-1234

@chaoticvictorianspirit @giopandaonice @marklee-blackmore

@blackpanzy @kacatshi

[burst-of-iridescent]

I’ve been reading a series where a guy is in a near identical situation to Katara was in The Southern Raiders. But what I find interesting is that no one really tries to stop him and the fandom considers it completely justified. I can’t help but think despite it being two different series and fandoms that Katara’s gender has at least something to do with this. When a male character wants to seek revenge and kill the murderer to do it, the narrative and fans justify it but when it’s a female character she’s vilified, seen as out of control and letting her emotions get the better of her. I hate when people say Aang was right to say what he did and try to stop Katara from making her own choice. It doesn’t help that we know Bryke is misogynistic based on well everything to do with their female characters post series after they didn’t have the talented writers who actually understood the characters helping them. And sure I know Bryke themselves didn’t write The Southern Raiders but we know from script leaks that there were more shippy Zutara moments that were cut and I think we know who’s to blame for that. So I wouldn’t be surprised if they still influenced the more problematic parts of that episode. Such as Aang and Katara never talking about or resolving their conflict, Sokka calling Aang wise beyond his years and never talking about or resolving his side if things with Katara, and even Zuko weirdly agreeing with Aang at the end that “you were right about what Katara needed.” Even though she literally just told Aang a second ago that he was wrong and she would never forgive him and doesn’t know why she couldn’t kill him. If you couldn’t tell I have rather mixed feelings about TSR episode.

Sorry for the ramble. How do you think their conversations (Katara, Aang, and Sokka) would go if they were to talk about it all after the episode?

oh misogyny definitely plays a part - just compare the way people react to inigo montoya from the princess bride vs katara in tsr - but i think the bigger issue is the overt narrative framing of the episode.

on a first watch, tsr appears to push a very simplistic idea of "violence = bad" and strongly favours aang's perspective, which encourages the viewer to see him as being in the right while katara and zuko appear to be in the wrong. the fact that aang never changes his perspective and both zuko and sokka are (forcibly and very uncharacteristically) made to take his side by the end naturally inclines the audience to do so as well.

it's only with a closer reading that you see a more nuanced take which highlights the flaws in aang's thinking and treatment of katara. katara herself makes it clear that what aang wanted her to do would not have helped her find closure, and she began her healing process without ever forgiving yon rha - which is exactly why i hate people attributing her decision not to kill yon rha to aang when she explicitly stated she did not and would not ever do what he wanted her to!

these are the same people who will also blame zuko for being a "bad influence" on katara, as if the only reason she hunted down her own mother's killer is because zuko convinced her to do it. katara isn't some weeping willow to be bent to the will of zuko and aang; her decisions are her own, not based on the whims of the boys in her life. can we please stop stripping katara of all her agency in the one episode that actually focuses on her trauma and healing?

rant aside, i do wish that katara had talked to sokka after this episode and i imagine there would be some apologising on both sides. sokka - a realistic sokka, because my god was he wildly out of character - would probably check in on her and admit that he was afraid for her safety and well-being. katara would likely apologise for the "you didn't love her the way i did!" remark and i think it would've been nice for them to finally talk about kya and for katara to bring up the conversation she overheard from the runaway about how sokka confessed to seeing her as a surrogate mother.

(imo the impact hearing that would've had on katara was largely downplayed in the show, and is likely part of the reason she reacted to sokka the way she did in the southern raiders, but that's a post for another time.)

the katara-aang conversation would probably have gone the same way that it did in canon, because the issues with their dynamic in tsr are part of the underlying problems with the kat.aang relationship in general. i would've liked to see aang have a little more of a reaction to katara saying she never forgave yon rha (he doesn't seem affected at all in the show), and for that to maybe prompt him to really reflect on what he said.

but ultimately what really has to be tackled here is aang's idealization of katara and his focus on clinging to air nomad values at the expense of those from the other nations - and those problems run too deep to be fixed in a single episode or conversation. the southern raiders would have been a good starting point, but unfortunately the finale never engages with these issues, and so what could've been a great arc ends up going nowhere at all.

[armageddon-generation]

The Bear Season 3 is a bridge season that feels weird on purpose, but also has some big problems: A review/ramble

Season 3 is clearly a bridge season, and suffers from having been written & shot alongside season 4. As a result, unlike the seasons 1 & 2, it doesn’t feel like a distinctive or complete chapter of the restaurant’s life. Just half of one.

This is partly because there’s no ‘end-goal’ like in S2, or clear progression/visible improvement to the restaraunt like in S1. Season 3 is about stagnation. Most of its storylines are left unresolved- the review, Sydney’s job offer, Tiff & Frank’s wedding, Marcus being inspired by his mother’s death, Tina and the dying farmer’s market, Carmy’s conflicts with both Claire and Ritchie. All these threads will roll into Season 4, and Season 3 suffers from that.

PACING, FLASHBACKS AND TONE: FORM REFLECTING FUNCTION

HOWEVER. This being a ‘bridge’, character-focused season isn’t inherently bad. Individual episodes of The Bear still tear when they want to. Episodes 1, 2, & 3 are a very strong setup for the season and establish good momentum. Episodes 6 & 8 are fantastic character pieces, and 8 in particular made me bawl. Even the finale, though bogged down by masturbatory celebrity chef cameos, was a strong episode.

The problem is all the stuff in-between. The actual day-to-day running of the restaurant feels hollow and empty now. There’s a distance between the characters and it feels like they don’t interact as a group anywhere near as much.

Part of this is absolutely deliberate. People joke about S3 'method acting' its way into bad reviews to reflect the restaraunt, but losing steam and the connections between characters is genuinely a formal reflection of the kitchen crew's moods, as the day-to-day grind of running the restaurant wears them down.

The use of flashbacks in 3x1 is excellent, but Season 3 quickly becomes way over-reliant on them (episode 9 especially, oh my god). Again, this feels like a conscious choice to reflect Carmy’s state of inertia/the fact he’s perpetually trapped in the past. It makes sense, but that doesn’t give the show a pass for being boring, and 3x9 was the first time I’ve ever felt genuinely bored by this show.  

FUCK THE FAKS & NEGLECTING POC CHARACTERS

My other problems are much more clearly the fault of the show; I do not give a flying fuck about the Faks. Neil is cute in small doses. The brothers are great as soundboards for other characters; Theo getting Sweeps to talk about his backstory in baseball, the brothers comforting Donna at the end of 3x8 Ice Chips, or the haunting argument finally forcing Carmy to talk about Claire.

But on their own? When they’re just bouncing off each-other? These guys aren't half as funny as the show seems to think they are. And their scenes drag on so long. For example, the B-plot of 3x5 Computer wastes half of an otherwise strong episode with pointless fucking around, propped up by a pointless celebrity cameo. I do not Give. A. Fuck about haunting, Mr. Cena, why the fuck are you here.

The aggravating time-wasting is made worse by The Bear continuing to neglect and underuse its POC characters. This is the second season in a row where I’ve felt Syd only got the bullet-points of an arc. She is the LEADING LADY. Ayo is now the show’s biggest breakout star. USE HER.

I really enjoyed Tina's focus episode, but unlike Forks and Honeydew last season it doesn't move the plot forward, and unlike Fishes the flashbacks don't contextualize Tina''s actions in the present because she's barely doing anything in the present, despite the show setting up her struggles in the kitchen early in the season.

Meanwhile, Ebra got crumbs again and Sweeps got a single scene, which is tragically at least better than he had last year.

Marcus’ arc this year is a fascinating microcosm for the show’s themes, but it barely gets a second to breathe because we have to cram in another five minutes of the Fak brothers arguing about that time Neil got taped into a cardboard box. It’s ridiculous. And then they showcase Nat being all protective of Marcus in an episode he’s barely in, when she barely interacts with him. It feels unearned & disingenuous, using Marcus as a prop for a Hell Yeah gotcha moment.

I liked Josh Harnett though, that casting had purpose, and both Chef Terry and Luca were used excellently.

CAMEOS

The surprise celebrity cameos this year felt distracting and indulgent in a way last year’s didn’t. In Fishes the slew of cameos were a dramatic tool meant to disorient the viewer. This year, John Cena is here to distract you from how pointless this B-plot is, and we've brought in a bunch of famous chefs to tell you direct-to-camera why cooking and the service industry are so important.

The chefs in particular are bizzare after season 1 spent most of its time telling us how evil and toxic the fine dining industry is. But now it's actually just the fault of a few bad apples, and these guys are really rad actually?

CLAIRE

Much has been said about how Claire was an underwritten archetype for Carmy to project onto. Now, I don’t much give a fuck about shipping in this show, but it’s clear Claire & Carmy’s romance didn’t connect with most people. It felt hollow. At the time, I thought this was deliberate, like the tone and flashbacks this season; Claire’s writing reflected Carmy’s perception of her as a saintlike childhood daydream who could deliver him from all the stresses of his life.

But this season, not only does the show refuse to let Claire go, it doubles down on objectifying her as a prop for Carmy’s self-loathing, trapped in his memory.

Again, this might work thematically if I knew Claire as a person, or was at all invested in their romance, but I don't and I’m not. As it stands, the multiple extended flashbacks with Claire feel like futile attempts to plug the holes in Season 2's weakest storyline, and drag their episodes down. If we’re supposed to root for Carmy to find happiness outside the kitchen, this is having the opposite effect, and it’s made worse by it all being left unresolved by the finale.

Either do something with this character or move on, because right now every time Claire appears I clock out emotionally, and that’s not her fault, it’s the way the show treats her.

CARMY THE ASSHOLE

All this contributes to an overriding problem that I again think is deliberate, but risky; Carmy isn’t likeable this season. He causes his conflicts with Ritchie and Syd, to whom he has passed down his generational trauma. Carmy's menu is the biggest thing dragging the Bear into bankruptcy. Carmy has stopped working to resolve his familial trauma like in seasons 1 & 2, just as Nat starts making headway. He functionally doesn’t exist outside the kitchen, entirely preoccupied with the past & a girl the audience doesn’t care about.

Unlike previous seasons, the few times Carmy is called out for his bad behaviour he doesn’t make much effort to listen or improve. Again, I get that this is the point. Carmy is on a low, self-destructive ebb, and hopefully when things start resolving in season 4 he’ll snap out of it. But him dragging the show down with him has consequences.

EPISODE COUNT & FINAL THOUGHTS

A lot of people are saying that S3 only had enough plot for 2-3 episodes, and while I think that’s disingenuous- The Bear has always been a character-focused, vibes-first show- I do think it should've returned to the 8-episode count of season 1. You can consolidate the same amount of ‘plot development’ into fewer episodes while maintaining the deliberate sense of inertia. Cut back on the Faks and flashbacks to give more time to the kitchen crew, and many of the complaints would disappear.

Anyway, all this to say that The Bear season 3 is not Bad like some are saying, but it is a step down from its first two seasons. It feels like it’s got lost in its own head and lost a part of itself along the way, and while a lot of that is deliberate- formally reflecting Carmy’s internal conflict- it exacerbates existing problems (underwritten POC, Claire) and creates several new ones (celeb cameos, overusing flashbacks, unresolved plotlines) previous seasons were able to sidestep.

[friccafracc]

DROP THE FIC OR IM COMING FOR YOUR KNEECAPS

ALRIGHT OK BUT I NEED IT TO BE KNOWN THAT I HAVENT WRITTEN ANYTHING SERIOUSLY SINCE HIGHSCHOOL OK

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Something is after me. I know it is, I’ve seen it. It looks like a man, but I know that it’s not. It…. It’s face is like a mockery of something human- like- like if you asked someone who has never seen a human to draw or model a person’s face, their smile. No… I don’t think any human would be able to get it that wrong.”

“And I’m not crazy, alright? God, y’all probably get that a lot here, don’t you? You people specialize in crazy. Not that I’m anyone to judge anymore, given the shit I went through before coming out here. I didn’t even know a place like this existed outside the Usher Foundation. I just…there’s some weird, crazy shit out there I guess, and when I heard about y’all, I figured I should probably pay a visit. At least let someone know before I die.”

“I know I’m gonna die.”

“I suppose I should start from the beginning. My name is Joshua Nelson, I’m originally from the States–Memphis Tennessee. Now, if there’s one thing you should know about Memphis, it’s that nobody in their right mind should EVER move there on their own accord, ‘cause you’ll either get mugged or stalked or both. I was born and raised there, so I never really got the choice during the formative years of my life. I’ve learned to live with it, though.”

“I worked retail in a gas station before…well, everything. It was a shithole. The kind of building where, no matter how hard you scrubbed and no matter how much bleach you used, the stains and smell of smoke would never leave. Instead just…mingled with the citrus of the chemicals. It paid the bills, though, and I was never witness to a robbery, so I couldn’t complain too much. The customers were docile and if I noticed anyone shoplifting, I kept it to myself. I wasn’t getting paid enough to give a damn.”

“We had regulars that would come in on a schedule and regulars that wouldn’t. People who were just passing through the city or visiting family or friends. You get all types in that kinda place, and if you’re placid enough to any asshole who’s having a bad day, everyone gets along just fine. There were a couple of regulars who were friendly enough, though, that I remember their names. Miss Kelly was an older woman, short and heavyset–she was one of the friendlier ones. We’ve got a lot of talkers in the south and boy did she make sure I knew every exact reason for what her kids were getting up to, or what was going on in a reality show she was hooked on at the time.”

“George Michael, a thin man in his 40s, maybe, always came in whenever he needed a new pack of cigarettes, I think he was a chain-smoker, cause he was in there a lot.”

“And then…then there was Hunter. Now Hunter was a younger man, maybe college age. A little older than that? Poor bastard was hooked on something, that much anyone could tell. He was gaunt, a little twitchy, you know, telltale signs of drug abuse. I could never tell what specifically he was on, but then again, it was never my business to know. I treated him the same as every other customer, we all knew he wasn’t gonna cause any harm, he usually came in for food, chips and hotdogs and stuff and he never caused a fuss.”

“I think… I think Hunter is dead.”

“One day he came in, I think it was a Wednesday or something cause it was slow that afternoon, and he burst through the door. Well–maybe not burst, but he came in the building like he was racing to get indoors first before someone else. The guy was usually jittery and, I’ll admit, a little shifty usually, but this was full blown paranoia. It startled me at first, his intensity, and he made a b-line towards the back of the store and ducked behind one of the shelves. Maybe not duck completely like ducking for cover, but it was obvious he was hiding. It almost made me expect the police or some drug lord to come storming through the door, but nobody else came.”

“Hunter stayed pacing in the building for a good 20 or 30 minutes, periodically lifting his head to crane his neck and peer out the window or the glass of the door. I checked once or twice as well, but if someone was out there, I didn’t see them. Eventually the guy calmed down enough to buy something and when he approached the counter with his bag of Doritos he looked almost like he was going to be sick.”

“I asked him if everything was alright, but he just shook his head and left.”

“I didn’t see him again for another week or two after that. Obviously I assumed the worst. I theorized that someone was after him and when he didn’t show up when he usually did it was more than enough to confirm my suspicions. Be it cops or some random person on the street, I couldn’t decide which fate would be worse, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel for the guy at least a little bit.”

“Hunter was almost completely out of my mind when I saw him again. I was surprised. By all accounts, it didn’t look like anything had changed about him. Maybe aside from the fact that his posture was way better than it usually was when I saw him, but other than that, nothing was out of the ordinary.”

“Business went on as usual and when he came up to the till with a liter of coke, I offered him a ‘Welcome Back’ and rang him up.”

“When I turned back to him, he was smiling. For some reason it was like a pit opened in the bottom of my stomach. I couldn’t understand why, though. It looked like Hunter–patchy, unkempt stubble, greasy hair, thin face, sunken eyes. His appearance had never bothered me before, so I was struck with confusion that mixed in with the undefinable, sudden sense of dread.”

“‘Thank you,’ he said as I handed him his change. And he walked out the door. It sounded like Hunter, too.”

“Hunter returned the next day, and the next. Each time he was polite and quiet, and each time he smiled when I rang him up. I counted his teeth. They were straight and flat. When I counted mine in the mirror when I smiled, I saw 17 or 18. Hunter’s counted 24.”

“Maybe he has a dental problem that I didn’t notice until now, I told myself. Human bodies are weird. Sometimes you have more teeth than usual.”

“The fourth day he came in a row, I saw his eyes and his pupils were…swollen, is the only way I can describe them. I know what people’s eyes look like when they’re high. This was not that. It was like they almost swallowed up his irises completely, and they were dull. Dull in the sense that the fluorescents overhead did nothing to cast any reflections onto them. It made me want to writhe and squirm whenever he looked at me.”

“I called in sick the fifth day. I knew Hunter would be back in that gas station to see me. I knew it was to see me. And I knew that thing. That..whatever it was. It wasn’t Hunter.”

“I guess a part of me was always dreading that day. I had always heard stories about people being stalked from friends of friends. It was only a matter of time before it happened to me, right?”

“I saw Hunter at the grocery store the next day, posture straight and face split open into that smile with too many teeth. I didn’t have the mind to be polite. I turned completely around and walked the other way, trying to fool myself thinking that he hadn’t seen me. I kept a pocket knife on me after that encounter. I probably should have been before, but hindsight is always 20/20.”

“Each time I saw him after that, it was worse. On the street to my apartment, his eyes were too wide and his grinning mouth was slightly agape. A crude facsimile of delight as I rushed past him. I stopped going into work when I started to spot him everywhere I went. Every destination no matter how far or random, he was there, grinning at me. He knew where I lived, that I had no doubt. So I went to a friend’s one night hoping to throw him off. Maybe I could move out and lose him. Lord knows I didn’t have the money to break my lease early, but I was desperate.”

“My friend suggested I call the police, but for some reason I was convinced that wouldn’t help. Cops usually only made things worse in that town, and I had a sinking feeling going that route would only waste my time.”

“The final straw was the second night I was crashing on my friend’s couch. I was exhausted, the past few weeks spent sleepless and paranoid and I was ready to finally pass out when I heard a light, rhythmic tapping on the window behind my head.”

“It’s just the wind, I thought to myself. A tree branch or something scraping against the glass. The exhaustion was completely gone, my pounding heart and pumping adrenaline overpowering any lame excuse that I would be stupid enough to be reassured by.”

“I didn’t move from where I lay. Tap. Tap. Tap. Came through the window once again.”

“I don’t know why I laid there for so long, unmoving, convinced that if I didn’t turn around, whatever it was outside would lose interest and leave. I really, really wanted it to leave.”

“I lay still for what felt like hours, every muscle in my body wound up and tense and ready to leap into action at any given opportunity. I was praying the opportunity would never come.”

“I don’t know how long it was when the tapping ceased, but it was long before I finally managed to relax. It seemed like my strategy worked. What an idiotic thing to think. Like I was a child hiding from an imaginary monster in the dark. Like the logic of not giving a stalker any attention so it would go away was sound. No. I think it was that false hope that landed me in this situation.”

“Because when that tapping came again, I wasn’t prepared to turn around. But I did. I turned around and what I saw in the darkness through that glass was… I don’t know what it was. I know it had eyes and teeth. It was grinning, but its teeth stretched well beyond what would be the borders of its face. God, I couldn’t see its face. I knew it was Hunter, though. It had those same lightless eyes that stared back at me every time I closed my own. Dead and dark and dull and staring at me–eating at me, wide and gleeful and spilling into the shadow that I could only assume was a part of the creature, itself. Its form took up nearly the entirety of the window, blocking the outside world. It didn’t move.”

“I screamed. I screamed and closed the curtains and I hid. This woke my friend of course, and she came stumbling out of her room, looking bleary but alert. I tried to signal to her not to go to the window or do anything or to call the police. Thankfully she got the message and the cops were there within the hour.”

“They didn’t find anything. Or anyone, for that matter. I left out the…the monster bit, because I assumed it might land me somewhere I really didn’t want to go.”

“They were about as helpful as I thought they would be. Told me to call them again if I noticed any suspicious activity.”

“I booked my flight here that very night. I wasn’t going to stay in that goddamn city with whatever the HELL that thing was. I don’t want to end up like Hunter. I don’t want it to wear my skin.”

“It will, though. I know it will and it scares me more than anything in the world. And I know I can’t escape it, either.”

“It followed me here. I saw it. It was still grinning at me and it was still. Wearing. Hunter’s. Skin. The shadow that was cast over it made it so I could only see the whites of it’s eyes....its teeth.”

“I don’t want to die.”

[sticks-and-souls]

Anakin & Letting Go

I always found it to be a little skeptical that Anakin could become a force ghost after it took Yoda, Qui Gon, and Obi-Wan learning and training how to do it, and I always thought “really? Anakin? Finding that level of peace and letting go?” But after this episode, seeing the care and lesson that he imparts upon Ahsoka that he learned so painfully, I understand it from him so much better. Vader was so stuck in his complete self-hatred that he allowed nobody who had known him before as Anakin to reach him (most notably Obi-Wan and Ahsoka) because of the overwhelming extent of his shame. It took his son, who had never known him and yet who still stood before him and believed in him, loved him, sacrificed himself for him, to call Anakin back from the depths of Vader. And this Anakin, let everything go to save his son and to allow his son to save him.

And it felt so impactful to get to see this mature post-Vader Anakin reaching out to Ahsoka to teach her this very hard-earned lesson that he took the very hard road to get. Because she has Vader in her. She is everything Anakin taught her, and we saw the behaviors that led Anakin to becoming Vader—the fear of losing his most cherished relationships—reaching out of Anakin very early in the clone wars (and before) and the two of them are both very aware that he imparted those lessons on her. And then we've seen across this season—and overtly in her clone wars flashbacks—that she believes she is inextricable from these traits.

I’ve always loved Anakin as a fictional character, getting to see his earnestness, his flawedness, and his intensity (to borrow Huyang’s very accurate adjective), but this episode brought a level of humanity to him that has moved me so deeply. Life is HARD, loss gets forced on all of us no matter what, and the lessons that we learn through mistakes that we made can be extremely painful because acknowledging and taking responsibility for hurting people is actually really painful for humans (not owning up to our actions is the emotionally easier choice and George Lucas has stated time and again that the Dark Side is about taking the short-term easier choices). But it ultimately means that learning from your mistakes is an actual choice you have to MAKE. And this is the core of Anakin’s lesson. He is teaching Ahsoka that she has to choose which lessons he has taught her that she will live by, but more than that, that she is empowered to be able to choose. Yes, she has everything that he taught her—the good and the bad—but she is not condemned to live out all of the lessons. 

And the beauty of it isn't just the lesson, but that Anakin gets to be the one to teach it to her. The betrayal that she experienced in discovering his fall, the taintedness that she has been portraying that she feels about herself, gets specifically addressed because if he figured it out, then she definitely can too. If he is more than just Vader, then she is too. And THAT is what the "Is that what this is about?" line is actually about. It's so so important that we get to see pre-Vader, Vader, and post-Vader across her vision because the point is that yes, Vader is a part of him, and that brilliant shot of the two of them glaring Sith eyes across the blade at each other did it's job in conveying that Ahsoka is capable of that darkness too, but you are not only the darkness. You get to choose. ("You're more than [death and destruction] because I'm more than that"). And more to the point, you have to choose. Because if you don't specifically choose to fight the dark, then you're ultimately choosing to fall into it. "Fight or die."

So for Anakin to be able to reach out to her one more time, to be able to love her the way he, as Vader, had refused to the last time when they met on Malachor, and to open with “you’re never too old to learn”, because god if he didn’t learn that the hard way too. And to be able to pass on to Ahsoka how to actually let go because he himself had only just finally been able to learn it as well, feels so powerful and poignant.

And that look of pride and wistful sadness that he gives her at the end? That both she and Luke were able to learn so quickly what took him so long? And that maybe, he may have helped save her from the worst traits that he imbued upon her? That’s him having let go of his own shame. He feels grief, he feels guilt—we can see it on his face—but what has happened has happened and he has accepted that, and finally learned that letting go doesn't mean it didn't happen, it means it doesn't have to define your actions going forward.

And finally, it’s also him letting go of ahsoka. By teaching her that she will choose her destiny, he has to accept that he cannot control it either. And he has. “There’s hope for you yet.” 

So yeah, Anakin learned to let go, and getting to see him here, in this headspace of acceptance and peace, practicing and understanding what it means to be a Jedi, was so unexpectedly cathartic and revelatory for me as viewer. 

[k1ssoflove]

~ My Skincare Routine ~

ANUA Heart Leaf Pore Control Cleansing Oil

Okay, I’m sure most of us having probably heard of this product once or twice right? Upon my first time using it gunk, blackheads, and whiteheads that I didn’t even know I had came up due to this product. Overall it’s made my skin really smooth and clear so much so that it literally looks like i’m wearing a real life filter when I look into the mirror!

CERAVE Foaming Facial Cleanser

An amazing product through and through, you can never go wrong with this cleanser tbh. I was using the ANUA heart leaf foaming cleanser but it literally broke me out so bad, I think it’s because of the fragrance so I had to switch back to this one and it’s cleared up all of the breakouts.

ANUA Heart Leaf 77% Toner Pads

Hydrates my skin SOO well I always use just 2 pads and let them sit on my cheeks for a bit before applying it to my face entire face and neck but they’re so calming especially after i’ve had them in the fridge.

ANUA Heart Leaf 77% Soothing Toner

I may as well be using the whole line at this point.. but this toner has been blowing up for so long I just decided I had to buy it and give it a try, and oh my god how this product cleared my breakouts so so quickly. Such a good product to use when your breaking out it truly does a really good time soothing it.

COSRX Snail Mucin 96% Power Essence

Yes i’m highly influenced I know! I’m so glad that I got this product, it’s like a holy grail for acne. This paired with the two toners is such a blessing, no seriously. This product aids in getting rid of bumps I had on my face especially on my forehead.

ANUA Peach 70% Niacinamide serum

My faveee I can talk about this product for soo long. I’ve tried many serums but none come close to this one it’s such a good product even my mom started using it. The scent is amazing it smells exactly like peaches, after immediately applying this serum onto my face it gives such a nice dewy glow and helps brighten my face! Makes me feel like such a princess. Last Anua product I promise.

Glow Recipe Watermelon Glow Moisturizer

They were not lying when they said glow.. Using this product gives you an INSTANT glow to your skin and the scent is so dreamy and perfect. I have not been using this product long and honestly besides the glowiness it gives and the yummy scent there’s not really anything special about it. And why is it so expensive..

LA ROCHE-POSAY Melt-In Milk Sunscreen 60

Such a nice sunscreen, leaves no white cast, is glowy but not to a point where it just looks greasy. Only problem I have with it is the packaging, it kinda like explodes or leaks? I don’t know if it’s the actual product itself or maybe just a error on my end but it gets really annoying sometimes but overall a really good choice of sunscreen!

LANEIGE Berry Lip Sleeping Mask

Yes as I said highly influenced… I always use this after finishing my skincare routine before i’m about to go to bed. It leaves my lips really moisturized and soft and smells amazing! At first I thought it would be the same as any other lip mask but it’s such a unique and nice consistency that I haven’t seen before in a lip mask.

[scalingsvt8thusiast]

Skin-Deep chapter 12

summary: The one where you fall for Seungcheol amongst all the protests and insecurities. The one where you don't know that he's fallen for you too.

a/n: Enjoy! :)

Ensconced in a velvet armchair, you sat surrounded by your friends who were howling with laughter. 

“They said what?” Yunjin said in between tears, clutching her stomach from the pain of laughing too hard. 

“I cannot FATHOM anyone saying that to you,” Shuhua cried, wiping the tears from her eyes, trying her best not to smudge her mascara. 

“God, what is up with her ceiling?” Somi laughed, imagining a bunch of naked people on the ceiling, “New money people, I can never understand.”

“Talk about bad taste, who the fuck puts stained glass in their dining room?” Jihyo added, sipping on her tea.

You had just finished relaying the drama from the past month to your friends whilst jewellery shopping at your favourite store. The five of you sat facing one another with a bucket load of jewellery spread out on a coffee table in the middle. The shop assistants constantly bringing out all of their best jewellery for each of you to inspect. 

“You should have slapped her!” Shuhua commented, mimicking a slapping motion in the air. “I know I would have! Insulting my bestie like that.”

Shuhua was your most outspoken friend. Her father was renowned as the Grocery King of Taiwan, owning almost all of the supermarkets and groceries store in the country. She always made sure to send out boxes of the best fruits and vegetables to her best friends. Their mothers appreciating the present more than any of their daughters. 

“And his father! ‘You need a right girl by your side’.” Jihyo mimicked, “Go back to the 70s, old man! No one wants you here!” 

Jihyo, who was extremely appaled by backwards thinking, was the daughter of the Gold Kingdom. Her family held monopoly over the trade of gold globally. Jihyo was regularly decked out in gold, but she didn’t mind shopping for other sorts of jewellery. 

“How does your son’s choice of girlfriend affect your company’s survivability?” Somi said, rolling her eyes, “does he know nothing about business?”

Somi, your ever business savvy friend, had just returned from completing her MBA. This was to prepare her to inherit her mother’s massive cosmetics empire. In fact all the makeup on your face right now was a gift from Somi.  

“I literally just looked up their company while you were talking. They’re worth what? 20 bil?” Yunjin turned her phone to show you a report. “And they’re so bloody arrogant!”

Yunjin, who was more interested in people’s net worths, hailed from a family who ran the world's most successful banking co-operation. This grants her access to all the secretive reports of various companies and high net worth individuals around the world. 

Where Seungcheol had Joshua and Jeonghan, you had Shuhua, Jihyo, Somi and Yunjin. 

The five of you had been friends since you were children, your parents all knew each other so naturally you grew up together. Majority of your youth was spent flying all over the world for shopping trips and holidays together. The only reason you separated was because you wanted to experience life without your parent’s money for once. You’d regularly keep up with them while you were at uni but it wasn’t the same as seeing them face to face. You missed the support your girlfriends gave you after being surrounded by boys for months.

“Guys, it’s honestly fine.” You said, holding your hand up to the light, inspecting the massive diamond around your finger. “I’ve left and I’m not looking back. That part of my life is over.” 

“Which part of your life is over?” A voice sounded from behind you.

“Vernon!” Your friends chorused. 

Your brother, waltzed up to the table. Giving each one of your friends a wave.

“Oh, you’re here early.” You said, placing the ring back on the table. Large stones attracted unwanted attention, not your taste.  

“Yea, we should probably leave now, you know how mom and dad get when we’re late.” Vernon said, motioning to the door. 

You sent your friend’s an apologetic smile, “Sorry guys, let’s continue another day?” 

A wave of goodbyes came from your friends as you and your brother left the shop, his Mclaren Senna parked at the main doors. 

Once you were comfortably seated in the car, you began running through your activities for the night. 

“After dinner, are we going over to Gyu’s place?” You said, your freshly manicured nails tapping against your phone. 

“Yea, it’s just going to be the few of us I think.” Vernon answered, driving carefully around a crowd who was snapping photos of his car. 

“How long do you think dinner with mom and dad will be?” You questioned, still replying to messages on your phone. 

“Probably like 2 hours tops? We might be a lil’ late to Gyu’s place.” Vernon replied, “Gosh, sis, your nails are giving me a headache.”

You turn to your brother with an evil grin. You reached your hand out and grabbed his arm, digging your nails into his skin. 

Vernon yelped. “HEY! I’m driving!” 

“That’s what you get for being annoying,” You say with a smirk before continuing to tap on your phone. 

Vernon’s eye twitched the entire ride home.

You hopped out of the car and skipped up the steps of the front porch. Vernon trailing behind you with hands in his pockets. 

“Young sir, young madam.” The maid had come out to greet the two of you, bowing as you passed her. “Dinner is ready.” 

“Thanks!” You called out over your shoulder and made your way to the dining room. 

This bungalow was your parent’s most recent acquisition. It had gone on the market quite recently, some Duke who had fallen from grace was looking to make a pretty penny so he sold it to your mom. She had been eyeing the property for awhile now, claiming that she thought about you immediately when she saw the massive walk-in closet in the main bedroom. It was added to the list of properties you were set to inherit when you were older. 

In the dining room, your parents sat next to each other at a sensibly sized round table.

“Hi mommy,” You say as you gave her a side hug. Your mother gave you a kiss on your cheek before continuing to read her magazine. 

“Hi daddy,” Doing the same to your father who was immersed in his newspaper. 

“Mom, dad.” Vernon greeted with a nod. 

“Oh finally the two of you are back, we’ve been waiting forever.” Your mother said, putting away her magazine as she peered at her children from the top of her reading glasses.

“Your mom’s just hangry.” Your dad flashed you a mischievous smile, ignoring his wife’s warning glare.

The maid entered with a trolley of food, proceeding to lay it out on the lazy susan. You much prefer these sort of meals than all those pretentious fine dining restaurants. Food was meant to be simple and identifiable, some people clearly did not understand that. 

Dinner was filled with idle chatter, you father was talking about the new venture he was thinking of in Thailand while your mom updated her children on the coming events they had to attend. 

“Aunty and Uncle Yoon are coming to town to visit.” Your mother announced. “I expect both of you to make yourselves available.”

“Sure mom,” you and Vernon chorused.

“I think they’re bringing their son eh?” Your dad said in between mouthfuls of rice. “Maybe you two could show him around.” 

And that is how you found yourself face to face with the one and only Yoon Jeonghan.  

“Y/N my dear!” Mrs Yoon gushed, holding your hands, “Every time we see you, you get prettier and prettier!” 

“This is Jeonghan, my son. I don’t think the three of you have met.” Mr Yoon said, gesturing to Jeonghan who was currently giving you a shit-eating grin. 

“Y/n!” Jeonghan cried, giving you a hug.

“Hannie!” You quickly returned his hug, you weren’t expecting to see Jeonghan at all. “This is my brother, Vernon.”

Vernon politely shook Jeonghan’s hand, exchanging quick greetings.

“Oh? Have you met y/n?” Mrs Yoon asked her son.

“Yes, we met at uni.” Jeonghan said, giving his mom a reassuring smile.  

“Ok, we’ll leave you kids alone now!” Your mom said, giving your arm a squeeze.

“Unless you guys want to sit through a meeting with us?” Your dad offered.

The three of your faces contorted into a look of disgust. 

“I think we’ll pass.” Vernon said, scrunching up his face.

Jeonghan waited until his parents disappeared from the room before giving you an excited look. 

“So this is where you were the whole time!” He chirped. “I thought you had been kidnapped when you fell off the face of the earth like that.”

Vernon narrowed his eyes at Jeonghan, “Is this the guy you were telling me about?” 

You shook your head, “No, this is his friend.”

“Ah,” Vernon crossed his arms, giving Jeonghan a disapproving look. “Guilty by association.”

Jeonghan chuckled nervously, “I promise I’m harmless.”

Vernon continued to eye the older man suspiciously. 

“I’m sorry for disappearing like that, Hannie.” You sighed. “Trust me if I had it my way I would have said good bye first.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” Jeonghan waved a hand, dismissing your apology. “If that happened to me, I would leave too.”

“Did you guys hear about what happened?” You asked, wondering if Seungcheol was the type to gossip.

“Not in the way you’re thinking.” Jeonghan quickly replied, as if reading your mind. "Shua had to pay some people to find out.” 

“Oh,” You paused, “Why didn’t you just ask Seungcheol?”

“I-,” Jeonghan paused, glancing wearily in the direction of your parents. “Let’s not talk about it here. There’s a lot I need to update you on.”

The three of you found yourselves having tea at the Mariott. You had called up Mingyu beforehand, who insisted on coming as well, to secure a table.

“Mingyu’s on his way?” Jeonghan said, excited that he finally got to see his friends in their natural habitat. 

“Yup, there he is now.” Your eyes darted to your best friend who jogged into the restaurant. 

“Have you started?” Mingyu said breathlessly, “Tell me you guys haven’t started.”

“No, bro, sit down.” Vernon gestured to the chair before making a face. “You’re sweaty as fuck.”

“Gym.” Mingyu replied still clad in gym clothes, he wiped the sweat off his forehead before sitting down. 

“Alright, now that we’re all here,” Jeonghan began, leaning forward, “you should know, Cheol hasn’t been himself these days.”

He recounted all the events that happened, starting from the day you and Seungcheol broke up and all the way to them confronting him at his apartment.

You didn’t know how to feel. Part of you was happy that Seungcheol was just as upset as you, part of you was sad because you knew things between you and him would never go back to normal. Was he considering getting back together with you? Did you want to get back together with him? 

“It’s great he’s suffering and all. But that doesn’t give him the right to be an asshole.” Mingyu voiced out. His eyed the table of sweets in front of him as if he was strategising for war.

“Why didn’t he talk to y/n first before disappearing and breaking up with her?” Mingyu continued with a look of contempt.

“Because he’s an idiot.” Jeonghan replied, in between mouthfuls of pastries. “Not an excuse, I know.” 

“I think you two should have a proper conversation,” Vernon sipped on his tea. 

“Well obviously not you,” He gestured to his sister, “I mean like he should have a conversation with you.” 

“Yeah, well.” You shrugged, “I want to talk to him, but he’s clearly intent on keeping me out of his life so-” 

“When we told him about well, you.” Jeonghan gestured to you and his surroundings, “He looked really relieved.”

You placed a Madeleine into your mouth and looked out the window, lost in thought. In the background you could hear Mingyu arguing with Vernon and Jeonghan. 

Mingyu rolled his eyes, “Honestly, I don’t trust Seungcheol on this. If you ask him to choose between y/n and his family, who would he choose? My money is on his family.”

“Actually, I think it would be y/n.” Jeonghan said with conviction. “You should have seen him. It was like armageddon had arrived on the choi family home.”

“I don’t know the guy, but I think he would choose you, sis.” Vernon said, nodding vigorously. 

a/n2: I'm actually quite unsatisfied with quality of my writing. but i hope you all enjoyed it all the same.

[kscheibles]

e la vita ch. 2

~ ch. 1 here ~

content warnings: f! reader, fluff, smut, semi-public sex, oral sex (m receiving), smoking, religious trauma, bisexuality

word count: 7.1 k

When I meet Matty the following Thursday, it’s in the city center. Feeling nervous and awfully out of place, I cover my eyes with my hand as a kind of mock-visor and search briefly for his familiar face in the square that’s packed with older gentlemen gossiping and families blowing bubbles each bigger than the last. I take a seat on a bench near the middle of the piazza when I don’t see him, hoping I’ll be somewhere he can spot but not as awkward-looking as I might be if I stood still watching the scene like some sick, American voyeur.

Matty walks up with the gait of a bad Mick Jagger impersonator. I can see now that he’s all limbs though not in a bad way; in a way that exaggerates his movements and announces his presence to the world around him. He seems comfortable with the reality that people will look at him. I suppose it makes sense, given his choice of career, but it still mesmerizes me.

I watch him as he walks towards me. He’s wearing a fitted t-shirt that exposes his arms to me for the first time. They’re golden and covered with a variety of tattoos in different styles; from his biceps all the way down to his wrists. Eventually, he notices me looking and his face breaks out into a smile. He nods up to the cathedral to my left as he approaches me, giving me a quick, fraternal hug.

“How do you like it, then?” he asks, eyes trained on the holy building.

“Matty, that’s a church,” I state plainly, “I spent my childhood in places like that, and I’m pretty sure I’ve learned that God doesn’t like girls like me.”

“If God exists, I promise you’re one of his favourites,” he laughs as he says it, as if it’s not one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me in my life.

“What do you know about God?” I ask.

“Oh nothing, really,” he concedes, “Just that he’s the most vicious, generous bastard in the world.”

I eye him as he says the words. I suppose that must be true for him. I resent the idea that our accomplishments and qualms are all consequences of our virtuous or sinful behaviors. It’s asinine. But if God is real, he’s certainly blessed Matty – with beauty, intelligence, love, money. 

If God is real, he’s cursed me to be something immutably unlovable. Damned to rot from the inside out for the rest of my life. I don’t believe what Matty says, even for a second. There’s no way I’m one of God’s favorites. 

Matty waves his hand in front of my face, snapping me from my thoughts.

“We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to. I didn’t consider that you might have…religious trauma or something,” he assures me.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” I say, though truthfully I’m less sure than I say. I wonder if entering the cold, marble palace will transport me back to my youth; to standing primly in church as a child, scared to make a wrong move. Scared to think a sinful thought. Considering each older woman around me, their beautiful hair covered by cotton squares in a performance of modesty. I envied them, how easy they made it look to live by the rules. How little they seemed to struggle with keeping their mouths shut and their shoulders covered and denying themselves the indulgence of imagining another woman’s warm, sweet lips on their own.

Matty seems to clock my hesitance. He takes my hand and leads me in and I was so wrong. 

It’s not cold inside, it’s breathtaking in a way that makes me feel welcome. On the outside of the central atrium are alcoves, each decorated more elaborately than the last. My senses are overwhelmed by the smell of incense, the sounds of hypnotic Latin chanting, the sight of refracting, colorful light. It feels Heavenly. I suppose it’s meant to. 

Matty draws me towards one of the scenes that’s painted on the perimeter of the nave. It depicts a woman washing Jesus’ feet. Her head is bowed in submission, focused completely on the task at hand. In her hands is her long, black hair, which she uses to wipe at the top of Jesus’ feet. The chiaroscuro of the scene illuminates the action; everything else is noise. All that exists is her devotion.

“She was a sinful woman,” I say, “A prostitute, I think.” Matty raises his eyebrows in consideration.

“Was it like a punishment or something? Making her wash his feet?”

“No,” I breathe, “She did it to show him that she knew who he was. Knew he was worthy of being revered.”

“So her taking care of him was a sign that she understood him? Or what? Loved him?” 

I shrug. “Isn’t that what we all do for the people we love? If we’re loving them right?”

“I suppose so,” Matty turns his head to look at me. He must see something on my face – a flicker of an emotion or a thought – that he recognizes because he adds, “But it’s no one’s fault if they haven’t been loved right. It doesn’t make you unloveable. It makes the other person a bad lover.”

“Well I suppose we can’t all be as easy to love as Jesus, can we?” I sigh, moving away from him, towards the center of the church.

I sit in one of the pews towards the back. In front of me are tourists and locals; people of all backgrounds, colors, and ages approaching the altar. Some of them have brought candles, hold rosaries. They appeal to God, beseeching his benevolent will. I empathize with them, even though I have serious reservations about the efficacy of their methodology. It’s beautiful how much they care about their fellow man.

When you see a woman wearing sheer tights, gray hairs combed perfectly into an updo, and kneeling on the cold tile floor with her hands pressed together, twins conjoined in supplication, you know that her motive cannot possibly be her own wellbeing. As selfish as we humans can be, it would be blasphemous to come to God’s house and light a prayer candle for yourself.

Matty sits down next to me, close enough that our legs are touching: his corduroy pants to my bare legs, pebbled by the cold air. I remember sitting in church with my crush as a girl, feeling wretched for wanting to inch closer to her. When I finally let our legs touch through layers of wool fabric, the excitement of touching faded instantly, giving way to the all-encompassing shame of the sin I’d committed. I reject the shame now, gently pushing my thigh further into Matty’s to prove to myself that it’s something I’m allowed to do, even in church. I’m allowed to touch him. I’m allowed to look at him and be distracted by his handsomeness. I’m allowed to think about his lips, plump, rosy, and left open wantingly. I’m allowed to think about his hips, how easily they swayed to the music the night I saw him in the club, and how deeply the rhythm seemed to be embedded in him. I’m allowed to think about his sculptural arms and nimble, calloused fingers. I’m even allowed to lust after him, to daydream about how good he could make me feel, if he wanted to. If I wanted him to.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, breaking my train of thought. 

“I don’t know,” I shrug, trying desperately not to feel caught, “You?”

“Thinkin’ about the people who made this place. All of the gold light fixtures they had to weld. I mean fuckin’ hell look at this,” he points to a sconce on the wall. It’s carved in the shape of winding vines and inlaid on the front are mother of pearl accents positioned in the shape of a cross. “They did it with much more primitive technologies than we have as well.” I nod along. 

“The devotion,” I muse. 

“What’s that?”

“Think about the devotion they must have had to God in order to create such a beautiful thing for Him. It would show if the constructors didn’t believe. They would have phoned it in; cut corners on the carvings in the pews and the intricate architecture of the dome,” I tilt my head to get a better view of the dome in question. Inside of it, windows filter perfect yellow light into the building and angelic sculptures stand guard over the heavens. 

Matty throws his head back completely, looking up towards the sky like there’s something up there that will save him or give him a more profound understanding of the place where his feet dwell. It’s misguided; I’ve spent enough time looking up to know that. There’s nothing good God can teach us that we can’t learn on our own. It’s nice to imagine sometimes, though: that if you look a little harder or listen to the silence on your knees for a minute longer, all of a sudden the answer to your problems will be revealed. 

With his head towards the sky, Matty’s neck is open and vulnerable to me. A strong vein is prominent on the right side of it and his Adam’s apple protrudes, a silhouette that’s so thrillingly masculine. It feels intimate that he would let me see him like this: all awed and curious and unguarded, like a dog that’s rolled over to offer me his belly. I’m flattered that Matty feels safe getting lost in front of me.

I admire how open he is to the beauty of it all. It’s because churches aren’t places that make him instinctively put his guard up. On the other hand, churches for me are places where I was fed lies, Sunday after Sunday. Where old men seized upon my innocence and insecurity and forced poison down my throat until I swallowed every last drop. I’d had to go through withdrawal when I finally got the antidote. It was arduous, sweaty, painful. I learned to question everything a little too well. I don’t believe in any kind of magic anymore; I can no longer believe anything that’s not right in front of my eyes. God took that from me. Matty is lucky God didn’t take it from him, too.

I look up, following his eyes. It’s all so beautiful it almost loses its meaning. Everything is marble or silk or stained glass. It’s too much all at once. I can tell it’s all spectacular but in the flurry of everything, each individual marvel loses its luster. As I tip my head further and further back, I get a little dizzy and the colors that float above me begin to bleed into each other in a kind of kaleidoscopic haze. I snap my head back up; back to reality. I reach out to hold on to Matty’s arm.

“Can we go now?” I whisper to him, still wanting to preserve the sanctity of the place for the other patrons. 

He nods in wordless understanding and leads me out.

–

The scorching heat of midday eventually breaks and yields a brisk night. When the sun sets, my skin remains sensitive, showing temporary, pale markings when I press my fingers into it. It hurts a little; a reminder of the fun I had that made me forget to reapply my sunscreen.

I sit at a table with Christina, Nina, and her friends. Some of us indulging in an aged wine from the region and others vying for an Aperol even though the sun is long past set and the orange bittersweet liquid now looks opaque.

“You know the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new,” says Nina, grabbing another glass of the chianti. 

“Like I’ve never tried that before,” I answer. It comes out meaner than I’d expected; though how could it not? I’m not a teenager dealing with a first kiss who pied me off for a blonder, more popular girl, I’m an adult who built a life with someone and rearranged my guts to fit her into every place that was important to me. Who introduced her to my parents and friends and was now having to wait for the dust to settle in an explosion that blew the whole thing to pieces. 

There are so many life-or-death questions that remain unanswered: Which friends will take my side, and which will take hers? If I have a fling with a toned Italian Adonis this summer, which of our so-called friends will stop inviting me to Dyke Night at Ginger's? Which of them will forget I exist just because I’ve left the city?

No, getting under someone new won’t help any of that, I decide. 

“Sometimes we all need a distraction,” remarks Nina. “Look, the truth is that a breakup uproots your whole life. You don’t know which way is up, you don’t know which places are safe from them, especially in New York. I remember when Mason and I broke up, I didn’t go below 16th Street for a whole month, just because I knew I’d be safe from him if I stayed uptown. My point is more that you don’t have to worry about any of that. You’re in fucking Italy and she’s gone back to Michigan while she figures out her next move. So do exactly what you want for once, it’s not as though you can do that when you’re in a relationship.”

Exactly what I want. The words echo in my mind as the savory wine causes my neurons to sing. What exactly do I want?

–

It’s just past ten when I meet Matty at a cafe near our homes. A late night up with the girls means I’m cursing myself for not arriving early enough to order a cappuccino. Matty is leaning up against a chair with his sunglasses on, looking down. He holds his phone in both hands, a cigarette between the index and middle fingers of his right. He exhales some smoke from his lungs and looks up to see me walking towards him.

“Y/n!” he smiles, immediately putting his arm around my shoulders and kissing me on the cheek, “How are you, darlin’?” I can feel my cheeks getting warm due to our proximity and his openness. 

He has a European self-assuredness to his movements. I’m not stupid enough to think that all of Europe is the same, but there’s a facility with which he takes my hand. Whereas, if I were to touch somebody, I would pause and hedge and overanalyze before reaching out. Even more so if it was someone I liked—which I’m slowly realizing I do.

“I’m good,” I smile at the dark lenses of his sunglasses. I hate those little pieces of plastic for keeping me from seeing his brown irises in the sun. I bet they would sparkle. I want to steal them from him and hide them so he can never wear them again and I’ll always be able to see the magic that happens in his eyes. Maybe it would hurt him, maybe his crow's feet would become more pronounced but I don’t care even a little bit. I want to know what it feels like to look into his soul again. 

“So what’s the plan for today?” I ask.

Matty nods toward a light pole a few meters away. Propped up beside it is a shiny black Vespa. 

“Thought we’d take a little day trip to the lake,” he says.

“Oh no, I can’t,” I say out of instinct. 

“Oh,” he deflates a little, “why not? Have you got somewhere to be?” I look at him embarrassed. 

“My mom would kill me if I got on a motorcycle,” I say. Truthfully, I’m scared more by the feelings that bloom in my stomach at the thought of holding onto his waist than the thought of riding the vehicle itself. He breaks into a toothy smile and crinkles sprout at the edges of his eyes.

“Your mum’s not here. How old are you, again?” he asks. I decide that doesn’t deserve an answer, instead opting to roll my eyes pointedly at him. “Besides,” he continues, “it’s a Vespa, not a motorcycle.”

“Do you have a helmet?” I question, timidly. He reaches out to my tote bag – embroidered with the familiar emblem of Shakespeare and Company – and tugs my silk scarf from it. His hands move tentatively towards my head, face questioning softly if he can touch me. I give an imperceptible ‘yes’, and soon his warm hands are cradling me. He places the scarf lightly on my head and then moves his attention down to my chin, tying it in place delicately. He reaches out to caress my jaw.

“There you go, princess,” he coos. The nickname doesn’t have the sting of taunting it once did. It feels sincere; like Matty really believes I should be treated with the utmost care. As soon as I can begin to smile up at him, he’s gone again, throwing his leg up to straddle the bike. With his Wayfarers covering his eyes, slicked-back hair, and tan skin, he looks every bit the rockstar Nina’s friends say he is.

I find myself skipping to him and straddling the bike behind him. I can’t see his face but I imagine it must be twisted into that ridiculous, self-assured grin I witnessed on the first night I met him. Where it once produced acrid bile that stained my throat with hatred, it now endears me to him. It’s indicative of a boyish playfulness, a thrill-seeking tendency that I so admire. Girls can’t afford to be silly and I’ve been surrounded by them for so long. I want to walk around in Matty’s skin for a day and learn what it feels like. 

What does it feel like to him when he walks home alone at night? It must be how I feel when I walk during the day. No– it’s even more free, it must be. Even during the day, I cringe imperceptibly away from every man I pass on the street, no matter what part of town I’m in or whether I have my headphones on. 

When Matty meets a girl and chats her up, he must not feel any of the apprehension that I do. No poking and prodding to see if she’s the one straight friend that’s tagged along to the gay bar because she’s just “so tired of men” or the sweet, bi-curious loner who’s looking for her first girl-on-girl action. He can just approach them without pretense and genuinely try to get to know them. He can entrance them with the arcane physics of his adorably curly hair and the spellbinding timbre of his speech.

When he speaks up, people must listen to the deeper, commanding pitch of his voice. They must be piqued by the melody of his Mancunian accent. They must believe him, perhaps even when they shouldn’t.

Do I want him? Or do I envy the ease that seems to come with being him? 

Do I want to feel his insides? Or do I want to feel him inside of me? 

I snake my arms around his middle, trying not to dwell on the soft cotton and lithe muscle that cover his torso. I clasp my hands together just under his ribs.

“You ready?” he asks. I press my cheek to his back, bracing for impact. I nod against him.

“Yeah,” I whisper. He chuckles at my hesitance and hits the accelerator.

And we’re off, bumping down old cobblestone roads, bathing in daylight, and meditating to the sounds of the city – babies crying, birds chirping, music playing, meat mongers yelling like showmen – and it’s not scary. Matty is solid underneath me, resilient. He runs a hand through his curiously straight hair like it’s nothing to him. 

On our way to the lake, Matty slows down at a fruit market packed with old ladies haggling with one another. He puts the kickstand for the Vespa out, twirls the keys around his hand, and pockets them. Then he strides over to the gaggle of nonnas greeting each of them in due course. 

“Come stai, Matteo?” 

“Come sta l’america?” 

“Che rockstar!” 

They clamber for his attention like he’s a grandson they haven’t seen in several years. 

“Tutto bene, grazie,” he manages, his English tongue contorting around the Italian. He still sounds anglophonic when he pronounces the words, but they cheer and coo all the same. Matty beckons me from the bike over to the fruit stand. “What do you want, darlin’?” he asks when I arrive next to him. 

I look down at a ripe selection of fruit that’s bursting at the seams with juice. Apricots the color of the sunrise, jewel-toned berries, and peaches: fuzzy, soft, and yielding – not unlike human flesh, I think. My thoughts wander to Matty’s hands and cheeks and thighs. What would they feel like if I touched them? Would they give? Would they warm me? Could I squeeze him hard enough to make him burst?

“Andiamo a Lago di Garda,” Matty explains. The nonnas grab a paper bag and begin pointing to the selection of fruits. “Albicocca, pesca, frutti di bosco,” they gesture to each in turn. Their voices undulate and vary in pitch as they describe the fruits. It sounds like verse to my ears: romantic, melodic, and exquisitely idyllic.

Matty turns to me, “They want to know what you want.”

I look at them – their pink noses and wiry eyebrows and floral aprons – and smile. I mime how many of each I’d like and they pack our bag to the brim. They pass the fruit to me as Matty pays what he owes, bidding them farewell. He runs up behind me as I approach the Vespa and takes the bag from me, setting it at his feet. Then he reaches into his pocket and fishes out a pack of cigarettes. He grabs one with his teeth and lets it stay there, nestled between his lips. My eyes remain trained on his every movement and he notices, tossing me a lighter as he starts up the bike.

“You light it for me, sweetheart?” he asks. My hands fumble with the lighter, bringing it to the end of the cigarette and idling there while Matty inhales. When it doesn’t light right away, he brings his hands up, cupping them around the end and they graze my fingers on the lighter. We look like two school children telling secrets and the moment feels as intimate if not more. How I’d love to know his secrets, each and every last one.

I release the lighter and Matty lets the cig hang languidly on his bottom lip.

“You want one?” he asks.

“I’m good,” I say. 

“Too right you are,” he replies, “hold on tight darlin’.”

–

Matty drives calmly down the motorway as I clasp my hands together as hard as I can. The breeze whips against my face and chaps my lips but I don’t mind. With the sun on my face and Matty underneath me, I feel unreal, unstoppable. As we reach the lake, the trees become more abundant. They flank the roads that lead to the beach and smell like fresh-squeezed lemonade, refreshing and revitalizing.

We finally slow down and sit on the rocky shore. Matty hands me a basket of berries and I immediately pop one in my mouth, enjoying the sweet juice that explodes on my tongue. 

Next to me, Matty bites into a peach. The juices run down his chin and he uses the back of his hand to wipe them off. 

The sticky juice glistens on his hand as he puts it down on the rocks to support himself. I’m mesmerized by the way the sheen that covers his hand catches the sun. I’m like a magpie drawn to anything shiny and ripe and sweet, not content enough with the fruit that’s bursting in my own mouth. I need to have his too.

“Can I try it?” I ask. Matty turns to me mid-bite and hands the peach to me as he chews the bite in his mouth. With the fruit in my hand, I inspect the marks his teeth have left, the place where his tongue has been. The thought that the tangy, sweet flavor will be laced with the taste of Matty’s mouth is absolutely delirium-inducing. It intoxicates me like a drug: the thought that I want him inside of me, that I could have him inside of me if I only lick the spot in front of me. I take a bite out of the yellow flesh and suck the juice into my mouth before passing it back to Matty. 

It’s better than I expected. Warm from being outside, not cold and refrigerated and sterile like the fruit Claire and I used to buy in New York. It’s soft, yielding easily to my teeth and tongue. And it’s sweet, sticky. The surface of the flesh is covered in Matty’s saliva and it seems to make me hungry, truly hungry, for the first time in months. I want to devour the peach and then the berries and then every other perfectly imperfect food I can find. It tastes like vitality. It tastes like desire. 

“That’s really fucking good,” I declare. 

Matty inspects the dents I’ve left in the fruit. Then he runs his tongue over the fuzzy skin and yellow flesh before biting into it. My skin burns from the sun and the eroticism of the situation. We’ve each been inside of one another now, him in my mouth and me in his. I want to taste him properly, from the source.

“How come your hair is straight today?” I ask, reaching my hand out to touch a strand that’s fallen over his face to partially obscure his eyes. It’s stiff and crunches beneath the pressure of my fingers.

“My natural hair would have fallen in my face and gotten us into an accident, especially given the fact I have to drive on the right side here,” he answers, leaning back on a boulder on the beach. I consider his face, trying to imagine his absent ringlets. 

“I wanna see your curls,” I say. I kneel next to him to get a better vantage point. From above, I see each gray strand of hair that invites the light into his mop of curls. I hold his gray streak up to the light and let my hand linger as it falls into his hair and then down to his face, feeling the rough stubble beginning to form on his cheeks.

“Yeah? You like my hair curly?” he teases, a blush gracing the tops of his cheeks as he looks up at my face. 

“A lot,” I nod. 

“I’ll never wear it straight again,” he says to mollify me.

“Good,” I state. I stand up and take my sundress off so I’m standing before him in a white cotton bra and underwear. Matty’s eyes go wide as I remove my clothing and hold my hand out to him.

“Come on then,” I encourage. He stands up smiling, unbuttons his shirt, and removes his trousers, leaving him more naked than I am. 

I thought I was beginning to know Matty, but seeing his bare chest reminds me of how much I have left to discover. It’s littered with poems and phrases, crests and colors. His shoulders are broader than mine and they’re covered in sturdy muscle that continues down to his pectorals and upper abdomen. I’m staring, I’m sure of it. He’s hard in all the places I’m used to softness and wide in the places I’m used to encircling in my warm, small hands. I grab his arm and drag him towards the lake, submerging my head in the cool water as soon as it’s deep enough. When I emerge, I push my hair back and toss some water in Matty’s face.

“Oi! What was that for?” he exclaims.

“You said you’d never wear your hair straight again,” I remind him, “Come on, I’ll help you.”

Matty kneels before me as I scoop handfuls of water onto his head until he’s totally soaked. It feels thrilling, having a man on his knees before me, at my mercy. I’m not used to gentleness from boys; only jeers and catcalls and hands obnoxiously placed at the small of my back in clubs. But I don’t want to use my position for anything other than sweetness. I rub his curls lightly, removing the gel from each strand. Matty looks up at me as I massage his head watching my eyebrows scrunch.

“Your hair is soft,” I tell him. He smiles up at me and moves his arms around my hips to hold me as I continue my ministrations on his hair. He breathes through his nose and I feel the warmth that emanates from him as it seeps into my skin. He’s centimeters away from my core, no doubt feeling my heartbeat wildly in my chest and smelling the faint, musky aroma of the wetness that’s beginning to gather between my thighs.

“Thanks,” he says, lips kneading the soft flesh of my tummy as he does. It tickles and my eyes snap to his, gasping. His gaze remains trained on me as he moves his mouth to kiss me there. He uses only his lips at first, pecking and rubbing at me, but soon he grows impatient. He leaves open-mouthed kisses just above the waistband of my panties, sucking the skin below my navel, nipping at it, and smoothing his tongue over to soothe it. He moans into my stomach as he does, letting out a sound muffled by my belly.

I whine in response, grasping tightly at his hair to keep myself steady. He jerks back quickly.

“Ah!” he hisses. 

“Oh fuck, sorry,” I duck down to him, holding his face to make sure he’s alright.

“I’m fine, sorry,” he shakes his head. “Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“It’s okay,” I say, “actually, you’re all good now if you want to, um, rinse off.”

Matty ducks into the water, smiling brilliantly at me when he meets my eyes again. I crouch down, reaching out to him, wringing out his curls, and scrunching them up onto the top of his head.

“Better?” he asks, standing up. Beads of clear, freshwater pool in his collarbones and race across his torso down to his hips. They catch on the sunlight and make him glisten. I want to lick them off his body, trace their path, and make him whimper.

I smile and nod, standing up to more or less even our heights. He wraps his arm around my neck, looking down at my body once we’re close enough that I can’t follow his eyes. I tremble. My arms are decorated with goosebumps, my breasts are peaked from the cold, and my white undergarments are soaked, plainly revealing what lies beneath them. 

“You chilly, huh?” he asks. I nod into him. “Let’s get you warmed up.” Matty drags me back to the rocky shore and covers me in his button-down shirt, beckoning me to sit between his legs. He envelops me in his arms like my own personal human-sized blanket and holds me until I stop shivering. 

–

“Oh shit, have you ever been in one of these?!” Matty shouts. He doesn’t need to yell to be heard, I’m right behind him on the Vespa. But he’s so excited at the thought of the old 35mm photo booth that stands tall on the side of the road. He leaps off the Vespa and digs around in his pockets for the 10 or 15 cents he needs to get it to work. “This is so fucking sick!” he exclaims. “Y/n! Come over! This is amazing!”

I dismount the bike more methodically than him, taking care not to get my skirt caught on the seat. I push the velvet curtain to the side and am met with a very eager Matty. He grabs my hand and pulls me onto the bench, instantly winding me up in his arms and tickling me. I’m caught off guard as the bulb in the center of the wall flashes, CLICK. I push Matty off playfully, turning back around to him – CLICK. I look at him, chest heaving for a moment – CLICK. It draws his attention and Matty’s eyes flit to my breasts, I notice – CLICK. I launch my body towards his, unable to contain myself anymore. His lips catch mine as I bring my arms up and around his neck – CLICK. Matty’s hands reach around my shoulders, feeling my bare skin, warm from the sun. I move my mouth hard against his, eager to taste the leftover juice from the fruit, tobacco from his cigarette, anything. Anything as long as it’s Matty. I reach into his soft frizzy curls and hang on to them to steady myself and push further toward him until he’s completely up against the wall of the photo booth. Matty’s hands find the smallest bit of my waist and pull me into his lap. His hands fall to my knees and rub all the way up my thighs, caressing the velvety flesh and stopping only when he’s reached the top to grab two handfuls of my ass. 

“Fucking hell,” he breathes as he releases me slowly. 

Using my newfound leverage, I push his head back onto the wall and attack the exposed skin on his neck and chest. I lick his Adam’s apple and kiss the ink peeking out from under his button-down.

“Fuuuuuuck, y/n,” he moans, lifting his head up to watch me as I unfasten each button on his linen shirt. His abdomen is hard under me and it feels so divine; almost painful but in a way that I deserve, that I revel in. I caress each tattoo on his torso with my tongue and his hands fly to my hair, massaging my scalp. I look up at him when I reach his ‘we are kings’ tattoo, partially concealed by his trousers. My tongue darts out to wet my lips as my eyes question him. “Please, go ahead,” he says, needily. His pupils are blown out and his hair sticks up in places it shouldn’t.

I hook my fingers under the waistband of his trousers and boxers, feeling giddy and nervous with anticipation. It’s hardly my first time – boy or girl – but it’s new in the sense that I’ve been used to one person for so long. How she sounded and tasted. Seeing his cock spring out, hard and red, makes me feel like a schoolgirl. I’m intoxicated by everything I don’t know about him and what I’m about to learn. I move his clothes down below his knees and tentatively kiss his inner thighs. The skin there is thin and warm and it smells musky. I reach my hands up to touch the hair that grows at the base of him. Then I lean my head towards the same spot and kiss the skin there. I run my tongue around the bottom of his cock, wetting him as much as I can and kissing him everywhere as I make my way to his tip. When I get there, I look up at him. His head is backed up against the wall and he’s sat on his hands, surely in some semblance of politeness. I move the left one up to cup my jaw. 

“Show me what you like,” I plead, “I wanna make you feel good.”

He groans through his lips as he pushes his thumb into my mouth. I wet it the same way I wet the rest of him and then I suck on it, just a little, moaning as I do.

“That pressure’s good,” he tells me. I nod and he takes his thumb out of my mouth and rubs it against my cheek. “Honestly though I really wasn’t expecting this. I don’t think it’s gonna be an issue for you.” 

“Is that your way of saying you’re turned on?”

“Very,” Matty chuckles.

I smile at that: an innocent, sweet, reassured one. His words give me the confidence to cover his tip with my mouth, my right hand falling to the base of his length and encircling it. 

Matty’s hand flies to the back of my head, under my hair and grips it like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. My eyes fly up to his face as I take him further in mouth until I meet my hand. I move up and down on him, relishing in every whimper and squeeze and twitch he unleashes.  

I begin to feel Matty stirring under me, and I look up at him, surprised at what I see. His eyes are open watching me with religious devotion. His right hand travels down my shoulder, blindly searching for the straps of my dress and bra and pushing them down until my breasts fall out, spilling down my chest. Matty wastes no time grabbing a handful of one as I continue my pace on his dick. He squeezes me gently but soon opts to pinch my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it out teasingly and keeping time with me. It feels fucking delicious and spurs me on. I remove a couple fingers from him and take him down further, hollowing my cheeks and moaning around him as he twists my nipple with sadistically erratic pressure.

“Please,” I groan around him. It’s possible he doesn’t understand what I’ve said, but he gives me what I want anyway, touching me rhythmically and gently fucking my mouth as he chases his orgasm. 

“I’m almost there,” he pants, reluctantly bringing his hand to my face and pushing it off of him, “You can stop.”

I keep his tip on my tongue and shake my head side to side. 

“Please?” I look up at him begging, “Want it in my mouth.”

“Fucking hell, okay,” he breathes, manouvering himself back inside of me, fucking my face harder than last time but still shallowly enough that I can take it without gagging. I need him. I don’t know why or what I even expect to gain from it but his release is the only thing on my mind. It consumes me. I move my hand from his thigh and squeeze his balls gently, then cradle them in my hand. I taste him not long after, salty, warm, and pooling on my tongue. I can feel him pulse in my mouth, giving me more and more. Though the load gets smaller, and each burst further apart from the last, I find myself hoping it won't end. I feel content, consumed by pride and pleasure.

I hold him in my mouth until I’ve caught every last drop, savoring the feeling of him filling me up and the flavor of him on my tongue. I swallow and lap at his tip and shaft to clean him up, and then I tiredly lay my head on his left thigh. It's been a long time since I let someone drip down my chin and licked them up, desperate to get every last drop. It feels good to need someone like that. Like water. Like medicine.

 He leans over just a bit to cradle my head with his hand, pushing the front pieces of my hair behind my ear, dragging his thumb to my lower lip, and lingering there. I breathe heavily while my eyes pierce his, mouth wantonly open. 

“Fuck, that felt so good, thank you,” he breaks the silence. I take his thumb in my mouth in answer, sucking at it delicately. I release him and kiss the pad of his finger gingerly. Matty takes hold of my hands and lifts my body back to his, holding me in a hug for what seems like an eternity. Time stops for a moment in the booth – it could be the year 3000 or the 80s, there could be a parade outside or a silent street that echoes with each of our breaths – it’s just the two of us, chests pressed against each other, the air thick with elation and longing.

Eventually, I have to peel myself off of him. Matty stands and stretches his arms above his head, displaying his toned triceps and delts. He bends at the waist to retrieve the strip of photos, fingers over each frame as he admires them. He folds the strip just before the last still, hiding the photo where our lips are meeting. Then he rips it off completely.

“There you go, princess,” he places the film with the first four photos gently in my hand. I look up at him confused and just a little sad. “This one’s for me,” he amends, tucking it into his back pocket. “So that I know I didn’t dream it.” He holds my face between his hands as I gaze up at him.

“Angels usually only visit me in dreams.” I roll my eyes and try to avert my gaze from his. He doesn’t let me, tilting my head up toward his by putting his finger under my chin. His eyes search mine with a fervor that would scare me if it came from anyone else. He closes them as he slowly leans forward to catch my lips in a slow, sweet kiss that tastes like goodbye. 

“Don’t make me leave,” I mumble into his mouth.

Matty wraps his arms around my back, pulling me further into him, and rests his head on mine. He’s warm and wet and smells like sex. 

“Why did you want to do that?” he whispers into my hair.

“I don’t know,” I say. I don’t really. It wasn’t logical, it was more instinctual than anything, a natural progression of my feelings and of the direction in which I was kissing him. I wanted to kiss him there; it felt natural.

“It wasn’t to, like, get over your ex or something was it?” he pulls away to look at my face as he asks, “I’m fine if it was, but I just want to know if you like me or if you’re just going through something.”

“I try not to make a habit of blowing people I don’t like,” I tell him teasingly. He chuckles, rubbing his nose against my cheek, tickling me with his five-o’clock-shadow. He kisses the edge of my face, right next to my ear.

“I like you, too.”

For a moment, I allow my mind to run free with the knowledge of his admission. To imagine date nights and naps on his bare chest on the sun loungers at the villa. My stomach flutters. I want it so badly.

I reach my arms up around his neck and touch my lips to his. 

“Will you take me home, now?”