#have my posts always been this saturated???

[buglaur]

getting ready for kmik 🔖

the instagram story layout of this is completely inspired by some of windslar’s gameplay posts, they’re so cute!! full credit to her because i stole the template from her resources lmao

[moregraceful]

might blow up in your pretty face by kitnita

The forfeit system was something tucked neatly into an otherwise dry part of the already dry CBA, barely touched. Every team still went over the protocol for it before the start of the season, along with all the other rote stuff they had to talk to players about before rosters were finalized. The last lockout had put a stop to it being a required part of every game, though, and winning teams rarely exercised their right to a forfeit. Miro couldn’t remember the last time the Stars had used theirs.

A Winner's Room fic feat. the Dallas Stars draft class of 2017 that made me so crazy I couldn't comment on it for three days after reading because I would get so upset (complimentary) by the relationship dynamics every time I opened the AO3 page to comment. A fave by one of my favorite Stars hrpf writers!

For @hrpffandomeventblog's April event: moodboards. Photo credit: 1, 2, 3*, 4.

[angelsinluv]

𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

a guide on how to manifest quickly and effortlessly with the understanding of states! ♡

☆ ┊𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒

what are states?

how to enter and sustain the state

dealing with the unfavorable (the 3D, emotions, doubts, negativity…)

quotes

a post by @blushydior + @angelsinluv

this is a joint/collab post between @blushydior and @angelsinluv. this was originally bambi’s post so she’d written most of it but doesn’t want to post it on her blog for personal reasons. so we thought it’d be a good idea for me to post it on mine and put our knowledge together since it’s been the talk lately.

there are many different ways of understanding the law and manifesting your desires whether it be behind a scientific point of view or the principle, states.

if you’d like to know how blushydior manifested her dream life with hard circumstances, read this post here.

now, let get into it.

☆ ┊ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒

the sooner you understand and get the gist of states, the more seamless your manifesting journey will be. this realization is what brought bambi to manifest her dream life.

states manifest and thoughts don’t and i’ll explain why in this guide but in no way shape or form that i am pushing my beliefs onto you.

even if you don’t agree with that statement or are unable to fully click and resonate with states just yet know that states and thoughts work together to bring awareness to what mindset/story you’re entertaining.

for example, if you wanted to know what state you’re in, you would look at your thoughts. why? because when you change your state, your thoughts naturally change as well so therefore, thoughts and feeling are indicators of what you’re state in.

if your day to day thoughts are:

where are my desires?

why hasn’t the 3D conformed yet?

i didn’t get to saturate my mind today, now i won’t get it

you are coming from a state of lack. a state of not having your desire unaware that your imagination trumps the 3D. always.

i’m not saying it’s a crime to affirm all day. many people enjoy it so it’s not out of lack. it’s up to how you’re doing it.

with manifestation, you’re either in the state of:

being the person who has it

being the person who is trying to get it

in the law of assumption, what creates reality? your mind (consciousness)

so, if you’re affirming, visualizing, doing all these things IN YOUR MIND, to change your reality (3D) then…

BY DEFAULT:

imagination creates reality

the 3D is a reflection of your state of BEING

always look inwards for confirmation because that’s the true reality!

☆┊ 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄

aka choose what you want to manifest! this would mainly be the state of the wish fulfilled.

state = your state of being / state of consciousness. your I AM.

it’s what you identify as. your awareness of being.

choose what you want and embody the version of you / person who already has their desire.

for example, if you wanted $10 million, you choose to be in the state of fulfillment - the person who has $10 million.

that is now your state - the person who has their desire. the state of the wish fulfilled.

☆ WHAT IS THE STATE OF THE WISH-FULFILLED?

the state of the wish fulfilled is the state in which your desire has already been fulfilled - that it is already done because consciousness is the only reality. there is nothing left for you to do because creation is finished!

you do not create anything, you only occupy and live in your desired state to bring it to life. this is why there is power in your awareness (of being). be aware of who you are being in relation to your desire.

☆ MORE ON STATES

infinite states exist within consciousness - this means that anything is possible and not all of them are true/will manifest. only the state that you constantly dwell and identify with, manifests.

this is also why infinite realities exist. your state is your reality.

❝ The world is a mirror, forever reflecting what you are doing, within yourself. ❞

☆ ┊ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓

now that you set the intention of embodying the person who has their desires, thoughts, feelings, and beliefs that align with your state will naturally flow to you.

as you can tell, thoughts and feelings are a product of a state but repeating affirmations, visualizing, doing whatever you want can also help you sustain and being into the state. that’s what techniques are for!

so what would you be thinking and how would you feel if you had your desire?

thinking = imaginal acts that include visualizing, affirming, inner convos, feeling, etc.

thinking is not just affirming because there are people who think in visuals and others who think in forms of words (affirmations). do what feels natural to you. — blushydior

affirm: “i have $10 million dollars in the bank!”

visualize: any scene that implies you have $10 million dollars in the bank

feeling: nonchalant / at peace / etc. knowing you have $10 million in your possession.

that is now your awareness / state of being

feeling ≠ emotion!

feeling = accepting your desire as a fact that it is yours because consciousness is the only reality.

☆ 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆

remember that the feeling is natural and it won’t be the same every single time. for example, if you’re now just starting to understand and enter the state of the wish fulfilled, it might be exciting, relieving - euphoric even but as you exercise returning back (persistence) to dwell in the state, it’ll start to feel natural. it might start feeling nonchalant, peace, calmness! so if you reach that point and start to worry, “i feel nothing but I know it done. am i doing something wrong?” no you’re not. it’s okay!

you don’t have to act as if. only be as if.

❝ Are you thinking from the state you desire? or is your dream just a passing fancy, a daydream you enjoyed for the moment, and then dropped? ❞

if you say you want money, are you gonna keep WANTING it? NO. to manifest, you ARE the person who has the money.

that’s it. that’s your state! you changed who you are.

YOU ARE THAT PERSON WHO HAS THE MONEY. simple. (that’s because the law is)

☆ 𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐖

close your eyes, claim you have what you want. by affirming, visualizing, whatever feels good to you.

see it, feel it, know that your mind creates your world. what you see is THE REAL FACT.

isn’t it liberating? BECAUSE IT IS.

you are free to do and have whatever you want! this is why the 3D, circumstances and feelings DO NOT MATTER. why? because YOU, the operant power JUST SAID you have it in your mind so why are you going to let emotions and the 3D effect you?

now, accept these thoughts and your state as facts because that’s what they are. consciousness is the only reality so if you say and know that who you are in imagination is true, the law has no choice but to reflect your awareness of being.

not all thoughts are assumptions and you are not all of your states!

the state and thoughts you identify with manifests.

you are always passing through a number of states throughout your days. a state of sadness, a state of anger, a state of nonchalance, a state of fulfillment.

dwell and identify with the state of your choosing = the person has all their desires!

it’s the same thing with thoughts.

“thoughts are just thoughts. thoughts accepted as true are assumptions. and thoughts/assumptions are products of your state of consciousness. feelings do not mean emotion. feelings = the acceptance that your desire is a fact in imagination.” — blushydior

like i said, thoughts are just thoughts. unless you assign meaning to doubts and affirmations, they hold no power. you do. so which one are facts and which ones are powerless?

your imaginal acts, awareness of being (visualizing / affirming / inner convos / feeling / auditory / etc) = fact

doubts, intrusive, negative thoughts = powerless. don’t even care enough to label them. they’re silly little thoughts.

☆ ┊ 𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 - 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓

all you have to do now is persist in that assumption and sustain your state until it hardens into a fact.

A COMMON MISCONCEPTION is that you have to CONSCIOUSLY be in the state all day everyday. NO. all you have to do is return to it/persist whenever you WANT to and WHENEVER you think about it

❝ You don't have to remain in a state if you have made a mistake. You can change states morning, noon, and night, but the state to which you most constantly return constitutes your dwelling place. ❞

SEE! it’s really no different. it’s the same as meditating on affs or rampaging, visualizing, thinking from your desire etc but it’s the fact that you are doing these things to make it natural & bc you enjoy it, not because you “don’t see it in the 3D” and you freak out then over-consume, affirm more, etc.

whenever you think about your desire, remind yourself that you already have it. 

if you caught yourself dwelling in a place of lack, for example, asking “where is it?” / “it’s not here yet.” — correct yourself. return to the wish fulfilled and feel it to be a fact in imagination.

and you keep doing that WHENEVER YOU WANT TO until it feels natural. like neville said, it’s like putting on a new suit. at first it won’t feel natural but over some time, you won’t even be “conscious” of it because you already / naturally feel fulfilled! read my quotes thread that relates to this.

this is where methods come in as well. it gets you to dwell in your state whenever and however you want.

methods don’t hold any power. you do.

it’s not a chore. it’s a choice.

easy peasy.

❝ You can tell if you abide in your house of desire by watching your thoughts, for the state in which you most constantly return constitutes your dwelling place. ❞

☆ ┊ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

you have fulfilled the inner man, accepted it as a fact and got your manifestation.

☆┊ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄

doubts, the 3D (interacting vs. reacting) and emotions

doubts, intrusives, opposing thoughts

you let them pass because you are already the person who has it all. if you identify as the person who has their desires (“i have xyz”) why would you let little doubts deter you? they can come in your mind ALL DAY but if you don’t identify with them, they don’t hold power.

if YOU know you’re already the person who has their desire, nothing and no one can stop them from conforming.

for example, if you were famous and all of a sudden you were told “no, you’re not!”

would you go:

“i’m not? oh my god… you’re right. i’m not famous!”

or

“uh…? wrong. because the evidence* is right there? i just said i’m famous so that’s what i am…. famous. lol.”

*evidence = you. your state/4D/mind.

☆ ┊𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟑𝐃 - 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ≠ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 

→ ┊ REACTING is looking at the 3D and complaining. settling for what you see as a fact.

EXAMPLE: seeing the opposite of your manifestation

DON’T: “my life sucks. i hate it here. see? this is why i can never manifest what i want.” and settling for these thoughts as facts.

DO: “it doesn’t matter what i see. what and who i claim to me in my mind/imagination is the real fact that has no choice to be externalized!”

→ ┊ INTERACTING is doing what you need to do in the 3D/physical world but knowing that what you claim in your mind is the REAL fact.

EXAMPLE 1: you’re manifesting a romantic partner.

physically: when someone asks you “hey, are you in a relationship?” you say no.

but in your mind you go: sike. i have the perfect girl/boyfriend 🤭🤭

EXAMPLE 2: you’re manifesting money

physically: you decline to hangout with your friends because you have no money at the moment.

but in your mind you go: “i literally have so much money lol ?? i’m the richest person in the world with all the money i have in the bank.”

EXAMPLE 3: attending therapy or venting to loved ones

physically: “life’s been really difficult lately and it makes me feel stuck. i had a few breakdowns and anxiety problems, etc.”

mentally: (after venting) “that made me feel a little better. i let my feelings out instead of bottling them in. i know i have/will get my desires! everything’s okay. i’m safe.”

it doesn’t matter what you do or say in the 3D!

consciousness is the only reality so if you continue to dwell in the state most favorable to you, that is all that matters!

☆ ┊𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

in this context: the repetition of affirmations. not repeatedly going back to the state of the wish fulfilled.

i’ve gotten a number of asks in the past asking me why they didn’t get what they want if they repeated the thought so many times. my only conclusion from this side of the screen is that you are in the state of trying to get it.

when manifesting, you don’t try. you either have it or you don’t. 

so are you person a?

“okay i have to affirm on loop for 20 minutes, 2 times a day or else, i won’t get it my manifestation!”

blushy’s observation: you aren’t being the person who has their desires if you still feel like you need to get them. so you do all these things like over-consume information, force yourself to affirm the same affirmations on loop 1000x, looking for more answers, etc.

you simply aren’t in the state of being. you’re in the state of lack / trying to get it.

how can you try to get something you already have?

so switch states! how? scroll back up.

or person b?

“i feel like saturating my mind. why not? it’s fun.” →

“i already have all of my desires because i said so. there’s no need for me to worry or stress because it’s already mine! it’s done…” and so on.

so do you have it? yes or no?

☆ ┊𝐒𝐎 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐃𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓?

a related question: do dominant thoughts manifest?

you can affirm all day and be able to affirm on autopilot in the middle of your sleep or doing chores but if you:

don’t accept them as facts (assumptions)

identify with them

are in the state of trying to get them by going: “i need to affirm more or else i won’t receive my desire.”

you won’t see results.

that’s why it can only take one decision for a manifestation to come to fruition. you fully accepted it as a fact that the version in imagination is the true person who has it whether it be a desire or doubt.

it’s all about the knowing it’s already yours IN IMAGINATION - that your success is inevitable and it has no choice but to conform and harden into fact.

it’s called the law of assumption for a reason! (as neville even once said, law of being) you accept / assume you are the person who has it as true without any physical evidence because you know that imagination creates reality.

❝ This is the law of assumption so, if you assume that repeating affirmations all day will get you some kind of movement / your manifestation, that’s what you’ll get. It’s the same thing with techniques and methods, you give your thoughts and these ways of manifesting power. Thoughts are products of your state of consciousness but it doesn’t mean they’re all true. The idea that dominant thoughts manifest makes it seem tedious. The law is simple. Especially for people who are new to the law, you’re introduced to this idea and you begin to police every thought you have and affirm all day, everyday to make sure that your every dominant thought surrounding each topic in your life is a positive one. That’s exhausting and it’s not supposed to be. It contradicts the fact that you don’t have to make a smidge of effort in order to get your desires. […] It gives your thoughts power when you are not your thoughts. You are who you claim to be in imagination because imagination creates reality. So if you visualized or affirmed that you are the person who lives their dream life and accept it as a fact in your mind, nothing can make that change other than you and you are pure consciousness. You can have negative thoughts and feel your emotions because just like the outer world, they have nothing to do with you unless you identify with them. So choose your story. Your silly little thoughts or the fact that you are the person who has their desires. ❞ — blushydior

all you have to do is accept it as a fact that you are the person who has their desire and you will manifest faster than the speed of light.

this is my opinion but i don’t like the idea of affirming so much to wait until a thought is dominant so it can manifest. it’s very limiting.

it is a fact that you ARE the person who has your desire! the reason why affirming on loop and “dominant thoughts manifest” concept works for others is because they assume it does. remember that techniques don’t manifest, you do.

❝ An assumption, though false, if persisted in, will harden into fact. ❞

if you are affirming on loop and aren’t seeing results, this may be your problem and understanding states is the solution you’ve been looking for!

☆ ┊𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐃𝐎 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌 𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐏?

this goes along with manifesting with hard circumstances and being a neurodivergent!

i state in my guide that i knew i was the person who already had my desires and since i was constantly filled with intrusives, doubts, and other things (i didn’t identify with them, i just wanted them to lessen) i repeated them as reminders to made me feel better to saturate my mind that: “yes! i do have it.”

saturation is NOT necessary. you don’t need to do it but it helps in many cases as a technique to sustain your state and coping mechanism. it makes persistence easier for many.

another thing. 

if you are this person: 

“okay i’m going affirm all day and then i will get it!”

you will succeed because that is the assumption you’ve created. you fully accepted it as a fact that if you repeat it over and over again, you will get your manifestation.

so yay! you got it.

☆ ┊𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

[peachsayshi]

Hello can I request a part 5 for the inexperienced reader where they finally do the deed? Thank you and I really love all your writings. You’re amazing!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ playboy geto x inexperienced female reader (part 4) ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 7,712

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰ previous parts: 1/2/3/4

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: hi, nonnie! I haven't posted the official part 4 for playboy geto x reader, so here is an update! part 5 is the final part of this mini series and I am still figuring out the scenario for the big moment. I had this idea in my head and really wanted to write out. I hope you enjoy the update!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: other jjk characters are mentioned, virgin reader; lovesick geto & reader; hurt/comfort; the first fight; making up; smut; oral (f receiving); nipple play; overstimulation; fingering; practice makes perfect *wink wink*

There’s a downpour outside - a peaceful shower trapping you in a cocoon of stillness. Grey clouds collide, orchestrating a rumble of thunder to disperse across the horizon. You squeeze the glass of tea in your hand and breathe out a heavy sigh as you continue observing the waves crashing onto the shore in the distance.

Standing in pensive thought, you find yourself contemplating why the sky isn’t a saturated blue, and why you are not wiping away grains of sand between your toes while tasting the salt in the air and getting kissed by the sun in the red bikini that you are wearing.

This is your first weekend away with Suguru and it was supposed to be perfect…magical even, but…

You haven’t exchanged more than a few of sentences with him in two whole days.

The truth forms as a discomforting lump in your throat. At this point you’re convinced that the turbulent events of this week is what conjured up such a dreadful storm to hijack your mini vacation, and you’ve been a bundle of nerves ever since because you’ve never had a fight with him before.

Not a real one, anyway.

Whenever a situation got remotely tense, your boyfriend would be the first person to jump in to talk things out. Suguru hated having petty arguments and always relied on strong communication to put out any fires before they set everything ablaze. You know it’s entirely unfair to put that expectation on him but, the truth is, you’ve grown used to him mediating, and depended on him to squash potential disagreements without question.

What you weren’t expecting was for things to escalate between you two because it’s never happened before, and now you aren’t sure how to proceed.

What if he leaves me?

The nauseating thought of a potential break up twists your gut, but you brush off your anxiety as you lift the cup to your lips and take another sip of soothing chamomile.

Couples fight, you think, it’s normal to fight.

Your fingers pinch the ceramic so hard, you feel it might crack from the pressure. You’ve tried to reach out since then, but Suguru remained unresponsive to your little gestures of peace.

Why is he still ignoring me?

You lean your head against the window and exhale, eyes fixated on the storm’s dramatic performance. A bolt of lighting crackles across the sky, channeling you back to the night on Suguru’s sofa just two weeks prior.

His fingers were trailing the outline of your thigh, keeping your body tucked perfectly into his frame. You were twirling a strand of his onyx hair between your fingers, listening to him proposition the idea of the weekend trip away.

“Yuki is one of my oldest friends. She lives in a beach house, so that’s where we will all stay…” he casually stated. “We visit her a couple of times a year, and I know she would love to meet you.”

You said yes without hesitation.

At the time, there was no need for you to question who Yuki was or how Suguru knew her. There was no need for you to pry deeper into the memories of his past because you were just living in the bubble of present happiness.

“We used to spend every summer at her beach house while I was in university,” Suguru informed you a few days later, slipping in that tidbit of information right after describing all the places he was excited to take you to. “I love that her beach house is so far away from the city. Plus, they have the best soba in the village. You’ll love it, I just know you will…”

This deep infatuation you shared for Suguru had your heart swelling up more often around him. Your valves were arrows to a compass that always spun directly towards him, your shining North Star. Your eyes were glazed over in a rosy shine of deep romance, making it hard for you to blink away the hue of its affection, but you should have taken a breath to catch yourself.

Maybe then you wouldn’t have reacted so harshly later on.

The ”problem”, as Suguru dubs it, happened two days before the trip.

Shoko invited you to join her and Utahime on a shopping date to pick up some new swim suits for the occasion. However, you weren’t expecting to see Mei Mei upon arrival. Your friendship with Shoko made it easier for you to blend in with the rest of Suguru’s group, but Mei always kept you at an arm’s length. For the most part, you approached any interactions with her with caution. You made sure you were nice and didn’t try to pursue anything beyond cordial conversations. Despite your attempts at playing cool, Mei continued making snide remarks about you being “Suguru’s Girl” and enjoyed addressing you condescendingly.

Truthfully, she treated you as if you were simply a stranger with one foot out the door and not the person who was in a committed relationship with her friend.

Your eyes, powdered with pink infatuation, had you feeling indifferent about her sharp tongue on this particular outing, and it made you loosely speak up about how excited you were to go on this trip with your boyfriend.

Your walls were completely down when Mei went in with a new attack while you were all having dinner together.

“It’s adorable how excited you are. Besides, I think it’s about time that you met Kiki…” she giggled, earning a glare from both Shoko and Utahime.

“Kiki?” you replied like a naive child, all wide eyed with an innocent pinch between your brow.

“Suguru didn’t tell you?” Mei coos as she proceeds to take a sip of her milkshake. “That’s his special nickname for Yuki. The two of them used to spend their summers together getting high and fucking. She was his first, you know…”

Your cheeks were stinging with embarrassment. You glanced over to both Shoko and Utahime, praying that one of them would denounce Mei’s confession.

Instead, Shoko shook her head with disapproval and simply added, “we all know that it wasn’t serious…”

“Wasn’t serious?” Mei interjected, her cruel eyes fixed on you. “Suguru was in love with her…”

“He wasn’t in love with her,” Shoko sternly answered. “They were friends. Don’t make up stories in your head”

Mei swirled her straw around her vanilla milkshake. “We are his friends too but that didn’t stop him from hooking up with us either. The only difference is that Yuki is the one who broke his heart afterwards. Suguru didn’t speak to her for an entire year...”

“How about you don’t stir up problems for no reason, Mei.” Utahime bit back, and Mei responded by rolling her eyes with mild disinterest.

“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true. Everyone at this table, except Shoko, hooked up with Suguru at one point,” she let out a pretty laugh, one laced with wicked intent. “Maybe this is something we can all bond over at the beach house. Compare notes and what not…”

“How about we dial back the bitchy attitude and put the subject to rest” Shoko interjected, and Mei merely huffed before sipping her milkshake with nonchalance.

Hot, heavy jealousy coiled around your skin, and you used every ounce of restraint not to pick up Mei’s drink and toss it right in her face. By the time your brain was able to connect the dots to formulate even a single sentence, the conversation swiftly moved onto another subject.

You reached for your soda, slurping the icy beverage in an attempt to cool yourself off.

This isn’t the first time that Suguru’s friends have made teasing comments about his past, but Mei took it too far.

The worst part about that god-awful interaction is that it was working out in her favor.

Why didn’t Suguru tell you?

The question sat in your head up until you returned home. You were in a bitter state, choosing to curb Suguru’s calls and ignore Shoko’s messages.

She still called you the next morning with a heartfelt apology.

“We’ve all known Mei for years so we put up with her attitude,” Shoko explained, “But you owe her no allegiance and what she did was uncalled for. I’m really sorry about that…”

“It’s fine, Shoko…” you insisted, but your tone was hard and defensive because it wasn’t fine and you barely got any sleep thinking about what she said.

“I had a long conversation with her last night, and she’ll be backing off from now on,” Shoko consoled.

“Great,” you answered through gritted teeth, trying your best not to hurl the phone at the wall.

“Look,” Shoko added on with a sigh, “I know Suguru doesn’t have the best track record and I know we all give him shit for it, but we also all know that we’ve been too hard on him. He really, really cares about you.”

Tears pricked your eyes. You wished those words were enough to sway you back but they felt just as empty as the space in your chest.

Why didn’t he tell me?

You couldn't stop wondering why.

The day before you left for the getaway, you were giving Suguru the coldest shoulder. He had come over to help you pack your things, but instead was left puzzled by your behavior.

You leaned away from his kisses, always tilting so he aimed for your cheek. You shrugged off his touch, pretending to busy yourself with searching through your closet and picking your outfits. You could feel his piercing stare from over your shoulder, those dark eyes dissecting the softest parts of you to get to the root of the problem. You tried to focus on the music from gently playing through the speakers, but as you walked over to your bag to pack another dress, Suguru quickly reached for your hips to drag you onto his lap.

“What’s wrong?” he asked seriously, his voice the tip of a sharp blade pressing into your heart.

You shook your head, caressing the fabric between your fingers. “Nothing, I have a headache,” you repeated firmly, sticking to the same excuse that you had given him earlier.

“Sweetheart,” he replied tenderly, your body stiffening when he brushed his lips over your shoulder to leave a contemplative kiss. “What’s actually wrong?”

You froze, your anger scalding your insides as it bubbled to the surface. You squeeze the dress between your hands, creasing the smooth surface. Suguru rests his chin on your shoulder, patiently waiting for you to at least acknowledge him.

“Is it true that you were involved with “your friend” Yuki?”

You hid your hurt with sarcasm, her name rolling off your tongue with a hint of disgust.

Suguru lifted his head from your chin, his fingers pinching against the fat of your hip while his other hand moved to reach for your jaw. He angled your face towards him, a pained expression masking over his breathtaking features.

“Who told you?”

“Mei,” you answered sharply, “apparently Shoko and Utahime know all about it too…”

“Look,” Suguru sighed, “it’s…it’s not what you think…”

“Did you to spend your summers getting high and fucking?” you interrupted harshly, mimicking the cruelty in Mei’s voice as you posed your question.

Suguru closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Is it true that she was your first?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly this time.

“Yes, but…”

You rolled your tear soaked eyes as you stood up on your feet, tossing the dress into your bag as you folded your arms across your chest to give Suguru your back.

You weren’t sure what hurt more. The fact that Mei had all the ammunition in the world to hurt your feelings, or that she knew that your doting boyfriend would keep this from you.

Suguru stood up, carefully approaching you from behind as he extended his hand out to find your waist once more.

“Mei’s a gossip,” he contended, “I told you that when we first met…”

You spun on your heel to meet his anxious stare, drilling your fury right into him.

“That’s not the point,” you argued. “The point is that you lied to me! The point is that you spent weeks going on and on about “your friend” without even warning me that you were both intimately involved…”

“We put that shit behind us years ago. I didn’t want to bring it up, and I didn’t think I had to. Mei shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Didn’t think you had to?” you repeated with confusion.

“There was no reason to,” he replied with annoyance, his fingers digging into your waist. “Because you and I are supposed to trust each other, and considering how things have been going between us, I thought we did.”

Your heart raced at the fact that Suguru was still keeping his mouth tight lipped over what happened with Yuki, which did little to help your own dramatized theories on their relationship.

If he was being secretive about something as serious as this, then who knows what other tales he might have been spinning with that honeyed mouth of his.

The knot that’s wrung itself around your mind finally snapped.

“Easy for you to say, you don’t have an inventory of people I slept with to keep track of…”

Suguru winced, the involuntary grimace an unusual sign of hurt. Your apology shot to the tip of your tongue, and you were ready to jump right into his arms and plead for forgiveness. This brutish commentary was so unlike you, but you didn’t know how to keep a handle on your own insecurities this time around.

“Keep track, huh?” he answered softly, the faintest hint of distress coming through and making you nip at your bottom lip out of guilt. “Must be hard having a boyfriend who is so used up…”

“No...you're not. That's not what I mean, I’m…I’m just saying that it’s different,” you retracted, easing your delivery to try and explain yourself. “You just don’t have to worry-”

“Is there a reason for you to worry?” he rebuked, quirking his brow in genuine surprise.

You scoffed, “You told me about everyone else you’ve been involved with but with her you are suddenly keeping quiet-”

“Please, tell me you’re fucking joking right now-“

“You can’t-” you interjected, clearing the catch in your throat as your voice warbled uncomfortably. “You can’t just expect me to be okay with this, Suguru. I have to be able to trust you and that’s only going to work if you are honest with me. Keeping something like this from me doesn’t help…”

Suguru dropped his hand away from your waist, and folded them over his chest tightly. There was a twitch in his jaw, and the disappointment in his eyes spoke volumes. You both stood there in silence, studying the other in deep concentration.

“I thought you did trust me. You were practically naked in bed with me when you said it. So what is it then? Do you trust me or not?”

Your face grew increasingly hot recalling his birthday, the way you were soft, vulnerable and pliable sprawled out against his chest...

“I do…” you replied with very little confidence. “Sort of…”

You swallowed your regret to stare down at your feet shamefully, and allowing your pride to fight the battle for you. If you can waver his insecurity even a little then maybe you might find some equal footing with the discomfort.

“I can’t change my past. I can’t erase the people I’ve been involved with. Yes, we both had different opinions about how we viewed relationships, but we aren’t going last long as a couple if I’m the only one that has faith that this is going to work,” Suguru informed calmly, using his fingers to gesture between you both.

Hearing those words from your lover’s lips felt like surprise blow. You parted your mouth to exhale quietly, clenching your hands tightly by your side as you naively waited for him to attempt to turn things around.

“I’ve given you everything. I’m not going to force you to trust me,” Suguru adds on, his tone morphing into a cold, cruel note. “And if you fucking can’t, then I’m done.”

Your head shot up in surprise, the front of your brows upturning sorrowfully but Suguru had already turned on his heel to walk out of the room, slamming your bedroom door right behind him.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

The car ride to the beach house was terrible.

Neither you or Suguru said a single word to one another. He kept his focus on the road, while you kept replaying the words “I’m done” on repeat in your head.

It was disappointing to start off on such a sour note because Yuki’s beach house was the perfect getaway spot as Suguru described. The location was rural, and the building was quaint and cozy. The size is big enough to fit your entire group, but not to the point where it was gaudy. Suguru mentioned that the property belonged to Yuki’s mom, which she eventually inherited after she passed away.

Meeting Yuki took your breath away. From the moment you laid eyes on her you understood how a young Suguru would be infatuated. She was striking - tall, with long, golden hair that cascaded all the way down to her butt. Every part of her was perfect, from her toned tummy revealed by her short black cropped top, to her legs that seemed to go on forever which were covered in only a pair of loose denim shorts. She had a naturally cheeky grin, like there was something up her sleeve that no one could quite point out, and sharp brown eyes that were simply inviting.

She pulled Suguru in for a warm hug, and ruffled his hair like a sister would.

“Sug! Your hair’s getting long! I like it!” she chirped with a big smile, while Suguru held an effortlessly casual stance to play off that the two of you haven’t been ignoring each other this whole time. Yuki instantly turned to face you, “And you must be the girl that stole his heart! I’m so glad to meet you! This guy never shuts up about you…”

You felt small against her, and it wasn’t just due to her height. You could feel yourself shrinking into your own shame hearing her talk about your lover. Whatever doubts that sparked due to Mei’s burning statements were quickly turned to ash.

Yuki gave you a house tour and explained that Shoko was sharing a room with Mei and Utahime, while Satoru and Nanami bunked in another.

“If you’re comfortable you can stay in Suguru’s room. He kind of has his own bedroom from how often he’s stayed with me. If not, I’ve got a pull out sofa in my room,” Yuki informed, while you were trying your hardest to undo the tight knot in your belly.

Getting to know Yuki over the course of the two days only fed into your regret. You couldn’t help but watch her interactions with Suguru, only to conclude it was no different than how he behaved with Satoru and Shoko.

Even when he addressed her as “Kiki”, it came out with a level of comfort that felt a familial familiarity. If it wasn’t for Mei and her devious manipulation games, you would never have even have assumed that the pair were intimately involved with each other.

As your stubbornness started chipping away, you decided to at least try and make amends with your boyfriend.

On the first night, after getting ready for bed, you broke the long hours of silence by asking him where he was going after watching him get ready to leave the room that you both were supposed to be sharing.

“I’m staying with Satoru,” he curtly responded, and slammed the door behind him before you could get another word in.

Yesterday was painful to say the least. You attempted to sit down with him and Satoru for breakfast, but Suguru excused himself only a couple of minutes later. By mid-morning you texted to ask if he would like to join you and Shoko to walk around the village. You even brought up his favorite soba shop, but found yourself left on read.

His behavior was harsh and quite obvious. By lunchtime Shoko pulled you aside to ask if everything was okay.

“We’re fine,” you answered breathlessly, your worry sending tingles to the tips of your fingers and toes. “We got into a bit of an argument in the car, but we’ll talk things over”

Dinner last night was supposed to be a fun get together at one of the local omakase joints, but it turned into you and Suguru sitting on opposite sides of the table barely acknowledging each other.

You were trying to steal his glance, but he wouldn’t stop avoiding yours. Afterwards while all of you were standing outside, you found the courage to reach for Suguru’s hand to grab his attention.

“Hey,” you whispered low enough for only him to hear to avoid making it obvious to the others. Your heart fluttered when you noticed that Suguru didn’t let go of your hand, but instead pressed the pads of his fingers lightly against your palm to return the gesture.

Almost like he was saying hello.

“Do you maybe want to go for a walk?” you asked, eyes hopeful and desperate. “It’s nice outside tonight, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t gauge what he was thinking, but you paid close attention to his reactions. Like the way his eyes dipped to your fingers slightly interlaced with his own, and how his digits were merely tracing yours in the most featherlight touch.

Did he miss you too?

“I’m going out with Yuki tonight,” he announced, his tone sharp and daring.

Your heart winced.

You weren’t used to this side of Suguru at all.

You let go of his hand, and nodded your head to feign acceptance but your throat was tight and tears were glazing over your woeful irises.

“Oh, okay!” you answered with as much confidence as you could muster up. “I guess…I guess I’ll see what Shoko is up to. And-”

Your voice cracked when Suguru let go of your hand. The emptiness a cold touch against your palm.

“I-I hope you guys have fun catching up tonight-“

Suguru nodded his head, taking your breath away for only a second when he leans forward to leave a chaste kiss on your brow. Not giving you a chance to finish your statement.

The gesture shatters you, because you know that it wasn’t genuine.

He was simply putting on a show, keeping up appearances so that the others don't suspect that something is wrong.

You cry yourself to sleep all alone in bed, all the while holding onto the hope that he might just show up to remind you that everything is okay.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

You’re still staring out the window, watching the droplets trickle down the glass. Lost in the peaceful moment, you barely hear Suguru enter the bedroom, which is why you jump in shock when you suddenly notice a large hand press firmly against the glass by your side.

“It’s pouring, huh?”

His voice, smooth like velvet and soft like storm clouds sent a tremor of desire in your belly. You steadied the cup in your hand, sensing your body trapped between the window and your boyfriend who was now standing prominently right behind you.

“Yeah,” you whisper quietly, your chest rising and falling with anticipation.

You watch him tap his index finger against the glass, your gaze falling to the bracelet on his wrist. It was the other gift that you gave him on his birthday, and he hasn’t taken it off since. The rain patters outside, the white noise your safety barrier against the awkward tension, but you can feel it brewing behind your spine as you steady your breathing.

“Where did you stay last night?” you ask with a mousy voice, hoping that your tone wasn’t coming across as accusatory but simply concerned for wanting to check in on Suguru’s whereabouts.

“Yuki’s room, we were up late talking…” he responds gently, a hint of amusement in his voice but not one that was cruel. “She told me I could sleep on her pull out only after admitting that I’m acting like a little bitch…”

Your mouth naturally ticked into a smile at his playful tone, and you sink your teeth into your lower lip with relief from the casual delivery.

He huffs out a small laugh, "in case you're wondering, I just so happen to agree with her."

“It’s not just you,” you acknowledge, finding the courage to slowly spin on your heel so you can face him. “I started all of this…”

“Yeah, but you’ve been trying to fix it and I’ve been difficult about it…”

Your body crumples when your eyes met his, the power of his gaze forcing you to press your back against the window to stop yourself from buckling at the knees. His yearning matches yours, and the tension in your shoulders relaxes slightly when you note that he might have actually have been missing you too.

The ease in his expression is a white flag of surrender.

You place your tea cup on the table by your side. “I shouldn’t have let Mei get to me,” you admit, “I was caught off guard, and I took my anger out on you…”

“I shouldn’t have put you in that position,” Suguru adds on, shaking his head in disbelief over his own decision. “I should have been upfront with you about Yuki from the star, I just-” He drops his hand away from the window to find yours, and takes both of them between his fingers. His thumb smooths over your knuckles, his grip firm and protective.

“I just didn’t want to give another reason not to trust me”

Your brows furrow with confusion, and Suguru sighs.

“My family were in a bind financially. Even though I got a full scholarship to univerisity, there still wasn’t enough money to put both Mimi and Nana through school. I've known Yuki since I was sixteen. She told me to spend the summers with her and hooked me up with well paying jobs ,” he explains solemnly, almost like he is ashamed by the situation entirely. “So, that’s what I did. Her mom never stayed during the summer break. And yeah, shit happened between us. We’d get high, fuck around, drink, party…but it was just…a release.  It didn’t mean anything else. I swear…”

“Mei said that you loved her,” you fill in, piecing together parts of your own personal indignation. “I think that’s what really got me. Especially when you didn’t tell me yourself. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the secrecy…”

Suguru scoffs, “Mei says that only because I went back summer after summer. I didn’t let anyone else know the real reason why. They had no fucking clue what was going on with me and my last summer with Yuki is when we decided to stop but I-I fucked it up…”

You could see the strain on Suguru’s face, and you squeezed his hand reassuringly to let him know that he could share whatever he needed to say.

“There was this girl that Yuki liked. I mean, really liked. She wouldn’t shut up about her. She was the reason why we stopped sleeping together. One night while we all went out, I got…carried away. I drank too much, I smoked too much, I wasn’t fucking thinking. I don’t even really remember what happened, but when I woke up the next morning…the girl was in my bed. When Yuki found us, she was…heartbroken. She didn’t speak to me for a year, and…I was devastated because her friendship means everything to me. She was the only person who knew how bad things were, and I returned the favor by…well, being myself, I guess…”

“Suguru, don’t say that…” you blurt out, your hands letting go of his as you eagerly clasp his jaw with equal protection. “I see you with your friends. You’re so loyal, and would give them everything if they asked. For somebody whose always so put together, what you did…is so out of character…”

He winced, his eyes narrowing with humiliation but it only taps into your empathy.

You bring his face closer, press your forehead to his own and notice him flutter his eyes close.

“You rarely talk about how hard it was with your family,” you mumble so close to his lips, keeping the conversation as private as possible even though it’s only the two of you in the room together. “I can’t even imagine the kind of pressure you must have been feeling. If you and Yuki are as close as you say are you, I’m sure she came around because she must have seen it too…”

His hands find your your bare waist. “She was the only one who could see it. Satoru, Shoko…it went over their heads…”

The quiet loops in right then, a rumble of thunder echoing in the distance. The hurt in Suguru's voice was loud and clear. The fact that he's always been there, but is so easily forgotten in the long run.

“I need to know,” Suguru confesses, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I need to know what else it’s going to take to get you to trust me because the odds are stacked up against me, sweetheart. And if I can’t make it happen, then I don’t have a single fucking shot at making us happen…”

The sting of regret burns your cheeks once more, and you extend your arms out to circle around your boyfriend’s neck. You want to kick yourself for making him doubt himself, especially after he working so incredibly hard to earn your favor.

“I swore I would never throw your past in your face. I’m so sorry that I did. You’re not the same guy that the people in your life paint you out to be, and I shouldn’t have let them try to convince me otherwise,”

You seal your apology with a small kiss to the corner of his lip, goosebumps pebbling your skin from Suguru’s thumbs tracing tiny streaks up and down your belly. “For whatever reason we don’t seem to make sense to anyone around us…”

When Suguru finds your eyes, you lose yourself into a dark abyss, sinking back into the depths of his soul.

“Is that how you feel too?” he questions seriously, “that we don’t make sense?”

You shake your head instantly to disregard the claim.

“Being with you is the only thing that I seem to understand, and I think that’s why I’m so scared to let you in,” you admit, the past forty eight hours of desperation formulating the next statement on the tip of your tongue. “I’m falling in love with you, Suguru. And-And I can’t seem to stop it from happening…”

Your breathless at the proclamation, your heart hammering so hard in your chest like it’s ready to burst out and bury itself into Suguru’s instead.

You watch your lover pull back slightly, his brows raise with astonishment.

“In love…” he breathes, like he can't believe the words himself, “with me?”

You nod your head, your hands roaming back to the front of his chest where you can feel his own stammering heart against your palm.

"Yeah, with you."

Suguru withers into your touch, his hand cradling your jaw as he dips in to press his mouth over yours. He parts his tongue to deepen the kiss, the weight of his body pushing yours into the surface, where behind you lightning bolts across the sky and grey clouds envelop you both in a shadowy cocoon.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

You freely unravel, your joy sparking from the tips of your toe as to the top of your head knowing that your lover has chosen not to abandon you, knowing that you both are desperately seeking forgiveness.

You swear to yourself that it’ll never get this far again.

Suguru baptizes you with his kiss; it was a long reminder of your submission, of fully surrendering your feelings towards him. In between he moves your body, away from the glass and across the room, until you're pinned underneath him on the bed. He uses one hand to undo the wrap skirt around your waist, leaving you clad in your bikini to bathe under the light of his love instead.

His index finger loops around the string of your bikini top. He pulls away from the wet kiss, the tip of his nose lightly brushing your own, with the heat pooling in those dark irises enough to singe your skin.

“I’m not done with you,” he confirms, going back to the statement that ate away at you like a parasite. “Truthfully, I don’t think I’ll ever be…”

A lock of his hair brushes his brow, and you move it aside to kiss the space.

“Even if you were, I’m not willing to let you go that easily,” you counter because you need him to hear it. You need him to understand that you see what he’s put into this relationship and that you are more than willing to return the effort.

He smiles, and it’s devastatingly perfect it makes you want to scream at the heavens for allowing someone to be this beautiful.

“Still think I’m worth the trouble?”

Your fingers trace down the bridge of his nose, your heart gooey and soft in more ways than you can understand.

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have you, Sugu.”

His head tilts with curiosity, eyes drooping in contemplation. He doesn’t say it but you can hear him asking “are you sure?”, but his doubt is enough for you to seal the truth with a kiss, and when Suguru returns it, you’re once again dissolving in his affection.

Your limbs tangle into one another, your bodies pressed so close that you can feel every hard muscle. The bed sheet rumples, is lifted away from the corners as it gathers messily. Suguru’s hand glides up your torso, over the swell of your breasts, and he hooks his fingers around your throat to tilt your neck to the side and allowing him the access to kiss the column.

You thoughtfully sigh, your eyes fluttering close at the sensation of him sucking on your delicate flesh. He leaves a trail in his wake, and you shiver when his hot breath fans your ear.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions in a hush tone, his voice dipping down an octave and sprinkled with desire.

You nod your head.

“Can I go down on you?”

Your body seizes, every single cell on fire. There’s a catch in your throat, and your thighs clench together nervously at the suggestion.

You tilt your head back to face him, your noses and lips bumping in the process. “I-I can do it for you-”

He interrupts you by shaking his head, his mouth carefully kissing your cupid’s bow. “You’ve gone down on me three times already…”

You can feel yourself soaking through your bottoms. A mixture of pleasure and shame heating your cheeks.

“But...what if-what if you don’t like it? I read somewhere that not all guys do...”

Suguru scoffs, baring his teeth as he gives you a full grin. He prods the tips of his nose onto yours, wiggling it teasingly from side to side.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he confesses before adding, “I promise you, I’ll like it”

Your heart is beating so fast you can’t think, but your body speaks another language as your thighs naturally spread a little wider to invite him in.

“Okay, yeah-” you consent, “yeah, you can…”

He smirks, his hands tracing to the strings of your bottoms. You lift your hips, watching him shimmy the fabric down your legs. He stuffs the material in his back pocket, his palms spreading your inner thighs apart.

You sit yourself up on your forearms to study your boyfriend with intrigue.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty…” he sighs, his attention focused on the triangle between your legs, and your belly flutters at the direct compliment.

He doesn’t move for a second, his hands adding the slightest bit of pressure on the meat of your thighs. He licks his lips and breathes out once more, taking just a second to compose himself.

“It’ll only feel good, no pain,” he informs, “but if it’s too much for you, just tell me and I’ll stop, okay?”

Your hips relax further into the mattress, his assurance easing some of your apprehension. Your boyfriend knows how sensitive you are at this point, but you nod your in head in acknowledgement while gratefully appreciating that he regards you with such consideration.

He kisses up the apex of your thigh, carefully avoiding your sex to find a path to you hips. His tongue is sof and warm, tasting every part of your skin as it travels across your lower belly and further down your pubis. You gasp at the sensation of his breath so close to your cunt, your calf twitching when he finally places a gentle kiss on your lips.

And another kiss.

And another kiss.

And a fourth until your toes curl and he finally flattens his tongue along the slit.

“Oh,” you coo, the sensation so delicate and delicious. Suguru drags his love between your folds, up and down, and side to decide, his mouth circling around each lip as he sucks on them in between returning to glide his tongue around.

Your legs clasp around his neck, your heels resting comfortably on his back. The sound of Suguru sucking and licking up your pussy reverberates along with the storm outside. He reaches one arm to find your hand, and you intertwine your fingers to hold him tightly. His other hand slithers up your torso, and slips underneath your bikini top. He pushes the fabric above your breast, his thumb and index finger finding your tender nipple which he massages steadily as his uses his mouth to pleasure you.

The sensation builds, filters throughout your body in waves that roll over and over again. You squeak when he sucks on your clit, your heels pressing into his back but the weight of his body holds you in place to keep you from wandering away.

Your brows furrow, little tremors shaking your collar bones and your belly. “Suguru,” you whine sweetly, a moan following after when he pinches your nipple and nibbles on your clit. He lets go of your hand, his touch traveling down to your legs. He spreads your pussy, giving himself more access to bury his soft tongue deeper, further, to taste more of your nectar as it dribbles down his chest like he’s biting into fruit.

He groans into your cunt.

He grazes his tongue over your weeping hole, and your body thrashes with anguish and rapture. Your eyes spark in white, glittering like the lightning as it bursts and recedes into the ceiling above you. The band in your core is a tight spring that finally unfurls quickly and quite suddenly, your orgasm unfolding throughout your stuttering body.

“Oh, god…” you cry out, your back arching as Suguru keeps his mouth over your cunt, his hand holding you down by your lower body.

You gasp, panting heavily trying to cope with the aftermath. You think that Suguru might stop, but instead you feel him paint kisses all over your sex, rolling your nipple between his finger and moving to suck on your throbbing clit.

“Sugu?” you call out, your spine shuddering.

“Hmm?” he answers, his tongue massaging across the bud.

“You’re still…” you whimper, “you’re still going?”

He releases you with a pop, blowing air over the swollen bud before smiling into another kiss.

“You have no idea how long I can keep going”

Suguru only manages to keep his word by delivering another orgasm with his mouth buried against your cunt. You had tears in your eyes when you came, panting out “no more” with desperation because you couldn’t handle the detachment you were feeling in your own skin.

It feels so fucking good, but all too much at the same time.

Suguru doesn’t push. He won’t test his boundaries right now. Not when you’re just a vulnerable kitten in his eyes. No, the stamina will require time and patience, and for you to get used to him in the bedroom as well.

His disappointments sits between his brows when he pulls away, his hand smoothing over the curve of your pelvis as he kisses your hip and lower belly. He crawls over you like a panther, his shoulder blades rising with each calculative moment. You can smell yourself against his lips, savor your own arousal when he dips in for a kiss.

“Taste like heaven, baby girl,” he mumbles, his balmy words running over your skin like hot oil. “I could eat you out all night…”

He traces the column of your neck with his lips, and grins into your skin. You’re too shy to say anything, and he knows it. He presses his mouth against your neck, pecking over the marks that he’s imprinted.

Your hands fumble to reach for his jeans, your body desperate to do something for him too but Suguru grabs your wrists and pins them to your side before standing upright and undoing his jeans himself.

“Relax,” he insists.

Your eyes fall to his large hands undoing the button, and then unzipping the front of his pants. His grey boxers have a noticeable wet spot, and your pupils dilate when he pulls his dick out for you to see.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting to see what he’ll do next. He pumps his cock a few times, sighing heavily as his thumb runs over the slit. To your surprise he shifts his position, and adjusts himself until he’s perfectly aligned with you.

He taps the fat, mushroom head over your clit. “You just open up for me, don’t you?” he whispers deviously, “Let’s practice…”

He slides his dick back and forth over your slit, supports his movements by holding both your knees as he grinds his length against your cunt.

“See how far I’ll stretch you out?” he mumbles, eyes hazy with hunger. “See how deep I’ll go?”

He slides his hands up and down your thighs, rocking back and forth and using you for friction. Soft grunts and moans escape him, and in between he halts for only a second when your quivering hand finds his length. His hips stutter when you start to lightly jack him off, your thumb teasing over the head.

Your eyes fall close, imagine the burn of him spreading you apart, of him making love to your body as you mold into his frame. To feel him in all his glory, for your bodies to become.

The image is raw, vulnerable, and so, so perfect.

There is nobody else you would rather give yourself too.

Suguru is the one.

“I can’t wait,” you beg dreamily, “Need you inside me, I can’t wait-”

His grip on you tightens out of surprise upon hearing your words, and he suddenly thrusts harshly as he curses out a broken “fuck”. Ribbons of white spurt out of him, painting your belly and tainting parts of your chest.

The both of you freeze as you look down, caught off guard by what just happened.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

Suguru cleaned you up using a wet towel to wipe his cum off your belly and chest. You discarded your bikini top afterwards while he removed his jeans, with the two of you then choosing to snuggle up against one another under the sheet.

“That’s never happened to me before,” Suguru confesses, finally breaking the silence. There was a slight blush tinting his cheek bones, and you giggle as you cradle his face in your palm and trace the shade of red.

“You’re usually so in control,” you playfully remark, and Suguru simply rolls his eyes.

“Not with you, I’m not,” he admits, his arm clenching around your waist as he closes the gap of space to tuck you into his chest.

You breathe in his scent, nuzzling your nose into the fabric of his tee.

"I'm glad we're okay now."

"I am too"

You curl your fingers around his shirt. “On your birthday, and just now…we could’ve…just gone all the way. You could’ve just-”

“Not here,” Suguru states seriously, the intensity in his voice prompting you to tilt your chin up and meet his stare. He plays with your ear, traces the shell thoughtfully before gently tugging on your lobe.

The butterflies flutter once again, your irises tinting in pink. You lean forward to kiss the sharp angle of his jaw.

“What was it like for you? Your first time?”

Suguru sighs, and purses his lips as he contemplates the memory. “Yuki was good to me, and it was nice,” he admits, but you’re entranced with the way he holds your gaze. “I sure as hell wasn’t as nervous as I am now…”

“Is that why you keep holding back?” you question innocently, apropping yourself on your elbow to rest your head on your hand. The bed sheet falling and exposing your chest.

Suguru’s eyes fall, his touch tracing the slope to outline the curve of your breast. “Do you want your first time to happen after a petty argument?”

You pout your lips with amusement. “Does it matter?”

“You’re not the only one who might be in love, sweetheart,” he responds, his words greeting the shining sun peeking through the clouds. “Of course it matters.”

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

tags: @sellenite @kiwibao @allofffmypeaches @sugurussbby @kunigamisbaby @pandoraium @brownskinnedgirll

my works are available on tumblr and ao3 - any fics reposted on other platforms or other Tumblr blogs have been plagiarized. do not share my works on social media (tiktok etc.) © peachsayshi 

[jakeromanoart]

How do you make your color palettes?? theyre literally gorgeous, I've been trying to do more bright "clashing" colors but they always clash too much

hi!! i may have posted this before so sorry if i sound like a broken record. i have three different ways i find palettes for my art.

method #1: sample from my own art is it because im lazy? yes!! a little bit!! but does it also work and give me a jumping off point for my art while keeping my art looking cohesive?? also yes!! i know of 4 recent paintings that all sampled and referenced each other. i'll post them below

if it aint broke dont fix it! also if youre experimenting with color and things just arent looking great go find an artist you like and sample from them. i dont condone copying or tracing art but drawing inspiration from your favorite artists by eyedropping their paintings so you can learn from them is in the okay zone for me.

method #2: just straight up using my favorite colors CONFIDENTLY i created this palette and i literally sample from it every time. i think a big part of making color look good is just being confident. if you zoom into some parts of my art there are definitely instances when things clash but i actually try to lean into those instances bc it creates a sort of unique eyestrain look. colors dont have to always play nice for a piece to work

i always use at least three colors from this palette to start (feel free to sample from this if youd like)

method 3 is kind of a last resort but it does the trick in a pinch: i take my reference picture and pump the colors WAYYYY up then sample from that. for this painting in particular i wanted to include a lot of green. admittedly green palettes are my worst enemy so i relied on this method to help me out here:

i like this method especially with my ref photos of nature because often i find that natural colors hardly clash and there are many harmonious undertones hidden beneath what at first glance looks like "just green" or "just brown" . pumping up the saturation with a photo editing tool brings all those hidden colors to the surface while keeping them somewhat harmonious

i hope this helps a little bit! ive never taken a color theory class or anything so i wish i could give more technical advice about color relationships and stuff like that but mostly i just.. use the colors that i love most, which may be a good place to start ⚡

[guanana]

step on a crack, dr. lee’s gonna break your back! ♡ ljn x reader (18+)

genre: smut, jeno x reader, f x m, crack

word count: 12.2k+

summary: after years of sitting hunched over at an office desk and squinting your eyes at an overly saturated computer screen, your back finally gives out on you and decides it needs a break. 

good thing your friendly neighborhood chiropractor dr. lee is here to save the day! small issue though— he’s really fucking hot and he’s got a way with his hands.

smut warnings: dom!jeno, mild dubcon (please do not read if you are uncomfortable with this), penetrative sex, manhandling, choking, strength kink, oral (f receiving), minimal rimming (f receiving), fingering, squirting, subspace, degradation, mild spanking, body worship

other warnings: will more than likely contain anatomical and medical inaccuracies (please spare me)

masterlist | next

────── 〔✿〕──────

When you were younger, all of the adults told you that your twenties would be some of the best years of your life. Relaying tales of being able to stay out past the curfew your parents had set for you. To indulge in certain luxuries that weren’t accessible to you when you were younger– the finest of alcohol, gambling, and more. Old enough for the freedom that comes with adulthood, yet young enough for the rose colored glasses that’ll register one of your fondest memories. 

Not you though. 

Scrolling through your social media, you grumble to yourself bitterly as you deliberately swipe past a post of your old colleagues from school having a night out at the bar. Lined up along the stools and leaned up against one another, bright smiles and puckered lips showing off just how much fun they’re having. Envious of their fitted dresses and the heels that you’ve been admiring from far away at your local outlet. 

You really couldn’t blame them, though. They’ve invited you out many times. To no avail, they’re always met with rejection. The same exact excuses every single time: 

“I’ve got OT today.”

“I have a project due tonight, I need to get this done.”

“I’m too tired. You guys go on without me.”

It’s not that you wanted to be such a stick in the mud. You just happened to work at an office that sucks the soul out of your being. It’s no wonder that the invites have become extremely scarce throughout the years, but that didn’t stop you from being petty and refusing to leave a like on their posts.

“Like hell I will,” You spit back.

“Like hell I will,” You spit back.

“Like hell I will,” You spit back.

Haechan pouts at that, his eyebrows furrowing childishly at your attitude. “What’s got you so moody today? I just wanna spend some time with my favorite coworker.” Planting his hands on top of each of your shoulders, soothing not so gentle circles into the flesh. Digging his forefingers into the crook of your collarbone, inflicting minor pain. He whistles at how stiff the knots are. “Jesus, you’re tight.”

“Could you stop being annoying for like, two minutes please?” You retreat from his touches with a feigned scoff, refusing to let him in on the fact that the makeshift massage hurt like actual hell. Shooting shocks and aches all along from the bottom of your spine to the top, wondering why you’re strained. You’d be a fool to think you could evade Haechan’s observant gaze however. As he jabs a pointer finger right to the center of your back, you shoot up from your hunched over position with an obnoxious squeal. “Ah– fucking hell, Haechan!”

Maneuvering your rolling chair to give him your deadliest glare, you’re confused when you’re met with a concerned face. “Do you have back problems?”

The sudden question startles you. Craning your neck and giving it an experimental crack. You realize you've never put much thought into it. Writing it off as a minor inconvenience at most. Too caught up with the rest of life to be concerned with your physical health, you pushed any aches to the back burner of your mind. “I don’t think so?”

Another jab comes your way, this time directly at your trapezius. Squealing like a mouse in pain once again, you earn a few curious stares from your peers. “Ow!” You smack his wrist away. “What the hell is wrong with you!?"

“It’s because you’re always slumped over at that damn desk!” Haechan argues with a tone that’s similar to a naggy mother’s. “You need to get checked out before it gets any worse.”

“I’m fine,” You swivel your chair away from him and back towards your desk, wanting to end this interaction as soon as possible. “Seriously, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Ever the overly concerned friend, Haechan goes against your wishes. Reaching into his pocket for his wallet before filing through the several business cards he has stowed away. You hear an innocuous ‘aha!’ from behind you, turning back curiously only to be met with a small cut of paper. Wiggling his eyebrows at you mischievously, urging you to take it from him.

Taking the card with caution, you barely skim through the simplistic font before Haechan speaks up again. “This guy is top notch. He’ll put you back into shape like it’s nothing.”

“Dr. Lee Jeno, D.C..” You mumble to yourself. Looking up at Haechan’s cat-like expression with your own unamused stare, fingers already up in air quotes. “Step on a crack, Dr. Lee will put you back on track?” You mock with disdain before grimacing at Haechan. “You can’t be serious right now.”

“I’m definitely being one hundred percent serious,” Haechan replies. “Come on, give it a try! His rates are great before insurance. Who knows how much cheaper it would be with our health plan.” 

You’ve watched plenty of chiropractor videos on Youtube before. Fond of the ASMR and the funny reactions. They've kept you entertained more times than you’d like to admit. That didn't stop your irrational fear of having your neck snapped so far back you wake up to find yourself in front of the pearly gates though.

“Don’t you know chiropractors are quack doctors? I mean— look at this Patrick Bateman ass business card. This guy could kill me!” You counter pathetically. 

“Hey, don’t speak on my boy like that,” He points an accusing finger at you. “I’ve gone to him plenty of times, and I’m still alive!”

“That’s because you’re a freak of nature,” You sigh at his persistence, too many factors to consider before even thinking about calling this man. “I don’t know…” But when you stretch out and a crack evades both your ears, that same sharp tinge traveling up your back, you’ve got no choice but to give in. Deflating under Haechan’s narrowed eyes, you admit defeat. “Okay, fine.”

“‘Atta girl,” He cheers. “I swear that you won’t regret it. Dr. Lee’s great at what he does.” “I hope you’re right, because if he snaps my neck and I die— I’m haunting your punk ass.” 

“Being haunted by you doesn’t sound that bad honestly. But when have I ever lied to you?” He winks. “Oh, and make sure to tell him that I referred you.”

Deciding that he’s bothered you enough, Haechan bids you goodbye with a wave. When you’re left by yourself you examine the card much more thoroughly. Despite the extremely corny slogan, you admire the minimalistic design. Flipping it to the other side to get more of his information, taking a mental note to search up his reviews later.

——

Dr. Lee seems to check all of the marks. Almost five stars on Google Reviews, most of them being very thorough and positive. A variety of patients from the eldery, to athletes, and even to those who have suffered severe injuries. Many claim that he’s got the ‘magic touch’ and that he treats his patients with the utmost care. That and he has the credentials to boot, graduating at the top of his class.

Swiping through the photos to get a feel for what his office looks like, it seems he occupies a space at a local complex. It’s neat and tidy, a clear degree and certification plated right there for all to see. Seems like he doesn’t have any photos of himself however, his profile picture being the default silhouette. 

Admittedly you find yourself pacing back and forth, your phone resting on top of your coffee table. You’d like to blame it on mild phone anxiety, but you’ve got nothing to blame but your skepticism. Mentally battling with yourself to just give Dr. Lee a call and set the damn appointment.

Well, if he’s got Haechan’s approval (you’re not sure how valid that is), you guess it wouldn’t hurt to try. You seldom ever ‘treated yourself,’ so why not throw a couple of bucks on something that’ll actually do you some good? 

Bracing yourself, you swipe your phone off of the table dramatically before dialing the number displayed on the card. Slapping the device onto your ear while the rings reverberate around your virtually silent room. Swaying nervously as two rings, three, then four pass without an answer. Wondering if you’re in over your head and should quit while you're still ahead, looking back at the screen and hovering your thumb over the hang up button.

Until somebody eventually picks up. A voice that is gentle yet booming with bass, delicate yet boyish in the same manner. “Hello? You’ve reached Neo Therapy Practitioners, this is Jisung speaking!”

Fumbling your phone like a hot potato, you tuck your phone in the nook of your shoulder. Grabbing a pen and notepad before plopping back down onto your couch. “Yeah, hi, yes!” You splutter. “I was wondering if I could set up an appointment with Dr. Lee?”

“Oh, for adjustment? Sure!” You hear some rustling before the man on the line continues. “Let me just get some of your info before I transfer you over to him. He’ll go into more depth with you than me.”

After providing Jisung with the necessary information, he sends you to Dr. Lee’s extension. An annoying jingle that brings you some peace. Still just a bit wary of setting up your meeting with Dr. Lee, your concerns only growing when the song comes to an abrupt stop.

Now, you may not have a face to pair with whoever is on the other side of the line, but nothing could have prepared you for the intense timbre that's on the other line.

"Hello?” The deep and sultry voice greets you, and when you take a few too seconds too long to return it, he tries again. “This is Dr. Lee. Are you there?”

Straightening your back out like you’re already in the room with him, it takes a lot of energy to double down without embarrassing yourself. “Yes! I’m here.”

A chuckle is offered in response, and you find yourself biting your index finger at how much of a baritone his voice has. Unlike Jisung who had an innocent tinge to his tone, Dr. Lee’s voice made it clear that he was a man of experience. A bravado that couldn't be missed even without physically seeing him.

“Glad to hear it.” You practically hear the smile in his voice. “So, Jisung told me you were looking to be adjusted?” When you hum in response, there’s a pause before he continues. “Sounds good. Typically with your first appointment it’ll consist of a consultation followed by your first adjustment. Does that sound okay?”

“Mhm, that's fine.”

“Perfect.” He beams, going over some more basic information that you jot down on your notepad. “Would you be free to come in tomorrow at let’s say… nine a.m? I actually had a cancellation and it gives us more than enough time before my next patient.”

When you check your wall calendar to confirm you have nothing going on in the morning, you let him know that you’re good to go. Everything goes swimmingly from there.

Dr. Lee instructs you to wear a casual set of clothes, to have your insurance and identification ready, and to just relax. 

“I’ll print out a brief page of everything we discussed today, and I’ll hand over the rest of the information to Jisung to input into our system.” Dr. Lee finalizes. “I look forward to meeting you tomorrow. I'll see you then?”

“Absolutely,” You reply. “Bright and early. I’ll see you, Dr. Lee.”

With a click, the call ends. Stretching out and hearing the pops of your spine sing like a choir, you're thankful that such a nuisance will be put to a stop soon. You feel much more at ease than before you had called, and you hope that the same holds true for when you see him tomorrow.

——

Turns out that it didn’t hold true. Not one fucking bit. Maybe you can still make a run for it, the main lobby merely a hallway from his office. 

It had gone easily enough. Meeting his secretary Jisung at the front desk with an enthusiastic greeting. He was young, probably using this as a part time job, most definitely not taking it seriously since you caught him playing Minecraft on a separate gaming laptop. Slamming the screen shut in a fit of embarrassment, he apologizes hurriedly before you reassure him that he’s okay, laughing at his silliness.

Handing him the required materials, he sends you to the back with a small smile. “First door to the left. He should be ready for you.”

With a nod you follow his instructions. That same confidence that you had carried from the night before crumbling to dust the moment you turned down the handle of the door. Swallowing a thick wad that’s formed at the center of your throat when you take in the sight of the man who’s setting up his equipment.

Haechan be damned, this guy was going to kill you. Not in the way you had first feared though. 

Dr. Lee was a sight sent straight from the Greek Gods themselves. Aphrodite taking special care and concocting whatever the fuck he was made out of with a few shots too many of favoritism. Muscular legs that are restrained by black jeans that travel up a lean waist that part into obnoxiously broad shoulders. Proportions unbelievably perfect with an even more beautiful face to boot, that sharp jawline and beauty mark that is saved for those who are the cream of the crop.

If you were attracted to merely a voice via a phone call, the real thing has you absolutely folding.

Unfortunately for you, you were too slow in backing out. Dr. Lee had finished adjusting the height of the bed at the center of the room, presumably sensing your presence before twisting his entire body to find you at the door frame. Upon meeting you for the first time, his face twists into one of the most welcoming expressions ever. 

Oh yeah, you were doomed.

Taking large strides towards you, he extends his hand for you to take. “Nice to be able to meet you in person.” He says, eyes forming into sweet crescents upon your accepting shake. His large hand wraps around yours completely. Gaze trailing from where you’re connected to his pronounced forearms. Sleeves rolled up high enough to ogle the veins that lace around.

Said button up did him no favors either. Accentuating each taut muscle, his biceps begging to be freed from its constraints. The button just below his collarbone fighting for dear life lest he makes the wrong move and it pops off. Calling your name, he brings you out of your daze. Shaking your head to bring you back to reality, scolding yourself inwardly for being such a prude. “N-nice to meet you too, Dr. Lee.”

He blows a few black strands away from his forehead, snorting at your apprehensiveness. “Please save the formalities. Just call me Jeno.” He squeezes your hand in reassurance. Separating from you in exchange for extending his arm towards the bed with black leather cushions that are framed by fine bamboo. “Make yourself comfy, yeah?”

Following you closely before dragging a rolling chair to sit across from you in, he sits casually with his legs spread out and his chest leaning against the back support of the chair. Reaching for his clipboard and whistling a tune as he skims through some documents. “Alright, it seems like we have some minor back pain?” He licks at his thumb to make flipping through the pages easier. Pushing the glasses that slip down his nose, attentive to every detail. “Care to tell me about it?”

“WelI, I think I started to feel some aches as early as three years ago when I started at my office, but it was a nuisance at worst,” You explain. Jeno validates you by nodding along, jotting out your words into short notes on his clipboard. Holding his chin between his thumb and forefinger, he urges you to continue. “But it's gotten worse recently. It's more of a shooting pain now.”

“I see.” He affirms, tapping the pen against his bottom lip. “A lot of my patients that are in the office tend to be victims of misalignment, I’m sure your case is no different.” 

“I hope so,” You stifle a nervous laugh, halfheartedly relaying your worst fears in a joking manner. “Would hate to find out I have scoliosis this late into life and then have to get surgery for it.”

“Oh, please,” Jeno snorts at you with a feigned offense, tossing the clipboard back to his desk. “I notice your posture is a bit off, but it’s nowhere near so bad that it would require surgery. Plus–,” He cuts himself off when he rises from his office chair, circling behind you to plant his hands on your shoulders. The sudden closeness has your breath hitching, tensing up even further when he parts your hair to get a better look at the back of your neck. Feeling rather than seeing that his chest is probably no more than a few centimeters away from your back. A ghost of a breath against your ear, realizing that he’s much closer than you thought. “That’s what I’m here for. I’ll put you right back into shape.”

“Y-yeah…” You have to remind yourself that he is a certified professional. For that reason, you conclude that he is most definitely just being friendly– at least you try to tell yourself as you feel heat travel up your neck beneath his thumbs that trace over the top of your back. Wanting to slap yourself for getting nervous over him doing his job.

“Let’s take a look, yeah?” Those same thumbs trail down your back, the fitted workout shirt you decided to wear today making it easier for Jeno to get a proper visual of your spine, humming in fascination when he digs into the flesh. A slight jolt causing you to wince under his hold, squeaking feebly at the discomfort. You hope you’re hallucinating when you hear a breathy chuckle leave his throat. “Sorry, did that hurt?” He muses.

“No–! Okay, maybe a little,” You stutter out. “It was just a bit of a shock.”

A noise that’s akin to a lion on the prowl stirs in his chest, making his way back up to the vertebrae that’s on that rests right below your neck. Digging into the flesh once again, this time earning a hiss from you. Biting your lip when the same pain that you had experienced from Haechan resurfaces. “Looks like you do have some misalignment. Does this hurt?” He asks before exerting more force into the spot.

“Fuck–,” You curse, covering your mouth in embarrassment at your lack of professionalism. “Sorry, yeah. That hurt a lot.”

You’re starting to think that this alleged ‘doctor’ is having a little bit too much fun inflicting pain on you. Under the guise that he’s just examining what issues you have, you grow more skeptical with each chuckle. Just when you’re about to retreat from his overbearing touches, he retreats first. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea on what you’ve got going on.” 

“You think?” You deadpan, not sure if you’re finding relief in your suspicions dominating your obvious attraction.

“Well, I know, rather.” He shrugs before walking back over to his desk, pulling out a model of a spine. Traveling back to you to point at one of the uppermost vertebrae. “Your thoracic is misaligned towards the top, specifically your T1– which is responsible for lots of important things like your shoulders, arms, the like.”

“So what does all of that mean?” 

“Luckily, it’s not bad at all. I think a few sessions would be just fine,” He answers, discarding the spine model. “I’ll give you a sheet with a bunch of stretches that’ll prevent further injury. ‘Till then,'' That same smile encapsulates his features, tilting his head playfully. “Ready for your first adjustment?”

He raises his eyebrows when you give him a gobsmacked face, as if you haven’t already signed a waiver and a bunch of other non-disclosure agreements that specify that you are in fact going to be realigned.

 “Oh, we’re doing that now now.”

“Yeah, now now.” He mocks you halfheartedly. Hands now coming to your front and pushing you down gently, swallowing when you get the best look of his face that you’ve gotten in the short time you’ve been in this office.  “Lay back for me, okay?” He instructs softly, leaving you to grab his chair once again. 

You do as he says, coming down with control only to realize you’ve fallen into his hands rather than onto the cushion. A horrible realization dawns when you recall the Youtube video that you had watched before going to sleep. Oh shit, he was going to crack your neck.

“Relax for me, just let your head fall back. Don’t tense." He praises you when you follow with no objections. Taking your trust with gratitude, he coos at you when your eyelids flutter shut. “That’s it…” 

“Are you gonna do the thing?” You open one eye curiously. 

“What, the thing where I readjust your neck?” Noticing that your expression is scrunched in fear, he realizes that you’re still a bit on edge. He knows that earning his patients’ full trust is all part of the job. It came easy to some, but harder for others. Good thing he was a patient man. “I understand if you’re scared, but just know that I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Oh, that totally makes me feel better–”

“Yet.”

“Just how did you score such high reviews on the Internet?” You chide him. “My life is literally in your hands right now.”

“I think those reviews were properly earned because of my dazzling charisma. Is that not enough to put you at ease?” He soothes light circles into the back of your neck, earning a purr of satisfaction from you.  

“You mean your pretty privilege?” You drawl, immediately regretting not being able to bite back your sharp tongue. 

"So you think I'm pretty?" He questions.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you amp up the theatrics by clamping your mouth shut. Motioning a metaphoric zipper from one end to the other and breaking off the tab.

Jeno decides he’s poked enough fun at you despite wanting to provoke more funny reactions. “Alright, now that you’re relaxed– I just want you to focus on your breathing.” He watches you inhale and exhale, chest pumping up and down with every breath. Gnawing at his cheek when he realizes that your shirt is just a bit low cut, your cleavage visible from where he’s sat behind you. “Mhm, good girl.”

The pet name quickly demolishes any relaxation you’ve achieved in the span of two seconds, but before you can properly address it, Jeno twists your neck. Squawking out a ‘oh my god!’ when a pronounced crack invades the room. Eyes practically bulging out of their sockets when Jeno brings you back to place, patting your cheek and letting out an exuberant laugh. 

“You did it!” He claps for you. 

“Holy fucking shit,” You gasp, unable to care about coming off as presentable to him. Sitting up quickly to wrap your hands around yourself. Unable to describe the sensation that just occurred, something in between satisfaction and utter shock. “I’m alive!”

“You are,” He says, bottom lip tucked between his teeth when you rejoice. His patients showing instant results and giving positive reactions would always be his favorite part of the job. “How do you feel?”

You take a few seconds to think, shaking your body a little and craning your neck side to side. “I feel a little lighter? There was a second where my head was just.. blank. Like there was nothing at all. I think I liked it.” 

When his lips quirk up into a smirk, you fold into yourself bashfully. Wondering if you’re coming off too casual with someone you had just met. Only now remembering that you had a very nice set of arms and hands over what you’d consider an intimate part of the body. Aside from Haechan who you couldn’t really chase away (no matter how many times you’ve cursed at him), you’ve never been too fond of physical touch. But when you catch the veins that have become even more prominent after exuding his efforts on you, you can’t help the fantasies that plague your mind.

Jeno was capable of twisting your neck like it was nothing. You wonder how easily he could lift you. Or how long he could last with you in his arms. Or how long he–

“Ready for the other side?” He pipes in. 

Maybe you shouldn’t  lust over your chiropractor when you’re in the same room as him. 

Falling back into him once again, he waits for your body to go slack. Counting off when you’ve reached a state of peace, he reiterates the action but in the opposite direction. That same rush breaking through your toughest nerves. Sighing out in relief, unconsciously arching your back when a tingle travels down your spine. Completely unaware of the way Jeno ogles the outline of your body in such fitted clothing.

“Still doing okay?” He hums, unconsciously trailing a hand through your hair. You ease into his touch with a sappy smile. The blissful pleasure similar to the buzz that comes with a good wine, your body is heavy but your mind is light.

“Doing just fine, Doctor…” You whisper out, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. A stark contrast from the top half to the latter of his palm, such a soft touch despite the surface being riddled with calluses. He felt just like how he looks– a bit rugged but just as gentle. Lee Jeno was an oxymoron personified, and you fear for your well being as the rest of this session goes. 

“Didn’t I tell you to call me by my name?” He reprimands you, a bit of a growl laced in his words. 

“Right,” You breathe out, painfully perceptive to his thumb that grazes against your bottom lip. Catching his hand with your own, lacing your fingers around the crook of his. “It felt amazing, Jeno.”

Jeno has had plenty of patients stretching near and far– many trying to pull moves on him. That isn’t to say he hasn’t found a few attractive people in his time in the office. But he knows better to engage in any sort of scandals that could bring any bad light to his reputation as a well renowned chiropractor. It was also natural for his patients to become a little lost in their heads after living with that pain for so long.

But when you don such a lost and dazed expression, Jeno realizes he might be in just a little bit of trouble.

Clearing his throat, he tries to carry on like normal. That proves to be difficult when he has to put you in quite a few compromising positions. Having to hug your body close when he lifts you up, plenty of cracks to show just how long you’ve deprived yourself of such basic luxuries. Using his strength to realign your spine in increments while you lay on your stomach.

He’s not a stranger to the grunts and groans of relief from the rest of his patients. Yet with each and every adjustment came a new sound. A stuttered gasp, an elongated groan, a screech in almost painful bliss– he wonders if you like being hurt. And when he has you laid on your side with his hand on the small of your back, an almost pornographic moan has him reeling in delight. Almost wanting to keep you for longer than he originally planned– to shut the blinds and lock the door, trying to remember if he still has that ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ sign that he has tucked away in his desk somewhere.

But again, he knows better. When he finishes off with popping your shoulders into place, he cranks his own neck. Taking extra care of you, treating you with the same sincerity as a flower in a field. He hadn’t realized that your time is minutes from cutting into his next patient. Sighing defeatedly, he has to cut it now. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” He pinches your nose when you refuse to wake up. Much too lost in your own wonderland, the irrational fear of a chiropractor snapping your neck too far dissipates into thin air. Every part of your body feels as light as a feather. Jeno grabs your forearm, the lack of resistance resembling that of a limp noodle, causing him to snort at your stubbornness to get out of his office. He thinks it wouldn’t be so bad if you were to stay a little longer.

“C’mon, wake up!” He laughs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to lift you onto your feet. Lifting you with little to no effort, like you weigh nothing. Strong arms surround you firmly, yet you feel a sense of security.  “Did I do that well?”

“Oh god,” You loll your head onto your shoulder, giving yourself a good stretch. It amazes you when you reach out high and not a single ache or crack follows. “I haven’t been this relaxed in years.”

Jeno’s sure he could make you feel even better if you’d let him, but it’s better to leave it at what you pay him for. “Glad to hear it,” His hands instinctively seek purchase on your shoulders, comfort being a second nature. Urging you towards the door, he doesn’t miss the pout that you don when you wobble like you’ve just learned to walk. “When will I see you again?”

You still have that half lidded gaze from being snapped like a twig, but it seems that you’ve come back to earth. “When’s your next available appointment?” You lean against the doorframe. 

He checks his calendar on his phone for any openings, he relays the options for you. “I’ve got an opening for Saturday next week, same time. Would you be interested?”

“Sign me up.” You answer. “I’ll see you then, Doc–” He’s grimacing at you before you can get the rest of the word in. Still not used to the informality, you huff before turning to take your leave. “I’ll see you next week, Jeno.”

“That’s what I like to hear. It was nice having you today.” He grins, waving you off before closing the door. When he hears Jisung bidding you goodbye and the chime of the bell to confirm that you’ve left the vicinity, he immediately rips his glasses off. Brushing his hair out of his face and rubbing at the prominent bridge of his nose.

He saw the way that you were ogling him when you had first entered. It was nothing new– the ladies young and old alike couldn’t get enough of him, and he definitely wasn’t oblivious to any of their advances. But when he thinks about all the ways he could bend and twist you over the furniture of his office, how he would be the reason you couldn’t walk, he comes to the realization– you were going to be a problem.

——

Saturday takes much too long to roll around, and fortunately for you Jeno contacts you no more than three days later for a cancellation. Your second appointment passed with flying colors. Jeno praises you for following the stretching regimen that he had provided you with, noting that your stiffness has already depleted exponentially. Chiropractic adjustment quickly becomes one of your favorite appointments of the week. Coming in with a smile on your face and stepping out and like a million bucks.

The same can’t be said for Jeno, however. While he’s sure that the attraction is mutual, you seem to be sending him mixed signals. Unsure if those moans are practiced or if he really evoked them from using his pure strength. Hell, he’s found himself hitting the gym even more than he already does, getting giddy when you take note of his progress.

“Have you been working out?”

“A little.” He smirks. “Why? Has it been paying off?”

“A little.” You mimic him with a subtle lick of your lips, giving his bicep an experimental squeeze. Jaw dropping at how hard the surface is. The muscle jumps when he unconsciously flexes beneath your touch.

That’s not all though. He’s noticed that you’ve gotten a bit too comfy in the time that you two have spent together. Your first visit you donned a plain workout tee paired with a baggy pair of sweats. But throughout your visits, t-shirts turn into tank tops, sweats turn into leggings, leggings turn into biker shorts– tops seeming to expose more and more of your stomach until he can see the lower curvature of your breasts.

“Oh, I forgot to mention it,” You say when Jeno pulls at your ankles, a pronounced ‘pop!’ successfully sounding around him. “Haechan was the one who recommended you to me.”

“Lee Haechan?” Jeno raises an eyebrow, the visual of the coconut headed brunette plagues his mind. Grimacing at how overbearing he can be. “Yeah, I know him.”

“I’m really glad he did,” You hum, that same damned expression that has been haunting him every night for the past few weeks. “You make me feel so good, Jeno.”

“You really need to be careful with what you say,” He tuts, appalled that such euphemisms fail to register. His voice lowering down to a low whisper, muttering under his breath. “I’m a guy, you know.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. Lay on your tummy for me, now.”

Maybe it was the confidence that came with getting better posture. Maybe it was the fact that you were becoming more flexible after he suggested you should join the free yoga classes that your community has online. Whatever it was, it was becoming even more of a problem for not just him, but those around you too.

——

“You are an addict.” Haechan glares at you. “You’re a crack addict. You’re addicted to crack!”

Embarrassment floods your being when your coworkers take a peek at the commotion. Haechan’s choice of words certainly does not do your image any favors. You cover your face with a manila folder from your desk, not wanting to give any attention to your nuisance of a coworker. He wasn’t having it though, ripping away the barricade and getting close in on your face. 

“Wanna know how I know you’re a crack addict?” He corners you.

Diverting your attention from your project, you swivel your chair in his direction to entertain his antics. “Oh, pray tell Haechan. Tell me how you know that I’m addicted to getting adjustments.”

Pulling out his phone, he presents you with a photo of a package that was addressed to his home. Raising an unamused eyebrow, your question remains unanswered. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“It’s a free roomba that I won from a raffle,” Haechan starts. “Dr. Lee’s quarter-yearly raffle to be exact.”

“...Okay?”

“Every appointment that someone I’ve referred to him has, is another entry to the raffle. And in the three weeks–” He holds out three fingers. “That you’ve been seeing Dr. Lee, guess how many entries I’ve scored.”

You’re not exactly fond of the direction this is going in, growing a bit nervous as you’ve lost track of the many times you’ve swiped your card along the pin pad that stays with Jisung at the front desk. “How many…?”

Bringing a hand to his mouth, he obnoxiously coughs to clear his throat. “Sweetheart, you have seen him ten times in three weeks.”

“You’re lying.” You gasp.

Tapping on an email from Jeno himself, he flips the screen towards your face. The evidence in all its glory specifying how many entries he’s been given. “Read it and weep, babe.” He squats down to your height in your chair, whispering into your ear mischievously. “So, tell me the truth– is he actually realigning your spine? Or is he blowing your back out instead?”

“Haechan!” You slap at him harshly, growing flustered at such an accusation. You think you’ve done a good job at being discreet about your desire for Jeno, able to keep yourself at bay every night when your vibrator clears your dirty mind for you. “We have not fucked.” You cross your arms to emphasize your point. 

“Yet.” That childish grin grows. “Keep visiting him like that and it’s bound to end up like some cheesy porno.”

“We aren’t gonna fuck,” You shut him down. “That’s so unprofessional.” “Suit yourself.” Haechan shrugs, turning on his feet to leave you alone once again. Tending to give you a mental whiplash and leaving you to clean up the mess yourself. “I’m just saying– it’s actually been kind of hard to get an appointment with him lately. Much less multiple times in the same week.”

“It’s probably just because I’m a new patient and require more adjustment.” “Maybe so, but I’d look into that if I were you,” He bids you off with a wink. Greeting another female coworker who passed him by, returning his gesture with a wistful smile. The interaction causes your eye to twitch. You’re sorry for that poor girl– she has no idea how insufferable that man is. Turning back to you with a smug expression to gloat. “Thanks for the free roomba by the way!”

His last words have you pondering, unfortunately. Jeno does spend a great deal of time on you, and his rates are definitely generous enough for multiple visits to be feasible. Maybe there is something there. 

But it’s been a really long time since you’ve been physically intimate with anyone. You’re a bit jaded in your judgment, often pinning most people’s flirting and undivided attention as mere kindness. The prospect of being able to have Jeno actually want you as much as you think about him stirs something in your stomach, annoyingly girlish butterflies fluttering around like you’re in high school again.

Who knows? It wouldn’t hurt to try and push the limits a little. What’s the worst that could happen? 

——

You might’ve jumped the gun. Wearing the smallest and tightest skirt in your closet with no safety shorts underneath probably wasn’t the smartest decision. Regretting your decision and clamping your legs shut, when Jeno gives you a once over upon your arrival.

His expression was unreadable when you met at his desk. Jaw clenched unbearably tight, a hypocritical action as he’s advised you to refrain doing that on multiple occasions. Claiming that it was a main factor in the migraines you’ve vented to him about. 

“So,” He speaks first, his voice gruff when he tries to cut the tension. “It seems like your thoracic alignment has improved greatly in the past few weeks.” You nod, grateful despite the awkwardness of the situation. “I feel much better thanks to you."

“I’m glad that I was able to help,” He replies, the sentiment still there despite coming off aloof. Was there a vein popping out of his neck? “Anyways, I was thinking after this appointment, we could limit visits to maybe… Once a month?”

Haechan might’ve been onto something when he said that you were addicted. Itching to get cracked almost every other day of the week, thriving off of that high that’s akin to walking on clouds. To go cold turkey and only experience such a luxury once a week almost feels devastating.

You’re hesitant, but you have enough pride to not be so desperate as to object. “We can do that, I guess.” You deflate into the leather chair, feeling oddly petulant for your age. 

Hopefully Jeno doesn’t catch your dismissiveness. You assume so at least when he carries on like normal. Gesturing towards the drop bed as per usual, you follow him helplessly like a pied piper. Pulling your skirt down when it hikes up with every other step, you’re inwardly chastising yourself for being so dumb. Of course this would make him feel awkward. You were basically setting yourself up for the easiest wardrobe malfunction ever– the worst part being that it was completely deliberate. 

“You know the drill,” He says when you stand idle. Hesitant to do so, knowing that he’s going to get an all access view to the racy panties you wore today. When you take too long you feel anxious at how he hollows his cheeks, his tongue poking out impatiently at your lack of initiative. “What’s wrong?” 

People were usually one or the other: book-smart or street-smart. Not Lee Jeno, though. If the doctorate that hung loud and proud behind him wasn’t proof enough, he was also much too intuitive and introspective for his good. The emotional intelligence that most people lack was evident with every conversation the two of you shared during your visits. You knew better than to think he’d be oblivious to such a drastic change in your wardrobe, every outfit prior paling in comparison to the stunt you’ve pulled today.

And if the way he’s vented about the other patients he’s had that have made a pass at him was any indication that he hated unsolicited advances– you’ve basically set yourself for not just rejection, but a strained relationship with someone whose company you’ve grown to enjoy too. 

On second thought, limiting visits to once a month would be ideal. Hopefully he’ll forget about it and the two of you can act like nothing happened.

You can tell his patience wears thinner when he crosses his arms across his chest, hip leaned against the top of the bed. Chelsea boot clad foot tapping against the floor in a steady rhythm. Left with no other choice than to suck it up and embarrass yourself, you lift each leg over the bed as slowly as possible, hands clutching at the hem as you lay back with your stomach taut with fear.

At this point, it’s like clockwork. Your head falling back into those large palms without fail. Jeno is always tucking the stray hairs that obstruct your features behind your ear, glad that you always kept your eyes closed whenever he’s this near. 

“You’re tense.” Jeno mumbles.

You apologize and try to relax as much as possible. Relinquishing the tension in your neck so you’re weightless against him. Such pathetic attempts are futile however, Jeno tsk’ing at your lack of comprehension to his instructions. 

“Your shoulders,” His fingers slide down the expanse of your neck to the span of the offending body part. The smooth glide eliciting a ticklish tingle that now has every inch of you clenching, especially between your thighs. Snatching your shaky hands that are gripping onto your skirt for dear life with each of his own, forcing them to your side. “Let go.”

The strength that he exuded against your resistance was terrifying. Your heart pounding against your chest erratically, fighting your hardest to shoo away the thought of him taking you right where you lay. 

Now that there’s nothing that stands in Jeno’s way, he carries on. Fighting a battle of his own, anything he looks at causing a problem downstairs. Look too high and he’s met with your twitching thighs. Look too low and the top of your chest is free residence. And trail even lower, your eyes are shut tight. Bottom lip caught between your teeth nervously, you almost look dumb. No, you do– but he thinks it’s so cute.

So cute and free for the taking. The height of his rolling chair leaves the top of your head right between his legs, close to his growing crotch. He thinks about how he could just unzip right now and sneak his cock right between those gorgeous lips. They’re a different shade than usual, and he loves how it looks on you. Was that another part of this little ploy of yours? 

Twisting your neck from side to side, the cacophonous snaps are accompanied by that sweet gasp. Inhaling a sharp bout of air when his grip on your neck is harsher than usual, fingertips digging into you even deeper than before. “Does it hurt…?” He croons, unable to control the grin that forms when he grazes down your forearms.

“A… a little,” You’re squeamish at the flicks of fire that his touch leaves behind, prickles of pleasure going off like bombs in a land mine. 

“Oh, poor baby,” He fakes sympathy, now roaming freely around your entire being, save for the spots you need him the most. “It’s because you don’t listen to me. I told you to let go.”

“I do listen to you.” You weakly protest, upset with yourself for displeasing him. A need to satisfy when you look up at him fondly, proving yourself that you can follow what he says.

“I don’t think you do,” He retorts coldly, returning a bleak expression that’s unlike the warm Jeno you’ve grown familiar with in the past few weeks. “I can tell you’ve been neglecting yourself. Have you still been stretching? You’re so… stiff. Do I have to loosen you up? Maybe we do need to keep seeing each other.” 

Such crude words stir unspeakable feelings in your lower half, now squirming against him when you try to flee from his hold. “Jeno, I–”

He doesn’t allow you to finish whatever senseless gibberish you had to say. Squishing your cheeks shut, his chest now flush against your back. Prominent nose now at the nape of your neck. Inhaling profusely, the mixture of your perfume and shampoo has him grunting in a sensory overload. 

“Just be quiet,” He spits. 

A single finger trails from where his lips are located at your nape, all the way down your spine. Admiring his work like an artist who has just created their magnum opus based off of their muse. Every vertebrae perfectly aligned, your back smooth beneath his touch. It was a lie– you took great care of yourself, everything from your posture to your confidence improving vastly. But while he had good intentions, you walking in with that skimpy outfit utterly destroyed his original plan of keeping your relationship strictly professional.

While he was able to build you to his flawless image, it gives him a surge of power to know that he can just as easily break you. 

He wants to. 

“Lay on your stomach.” He demands. A complete contrast to the kind guidance he typically provides, not helping his own case when he slides his arms under your abdomen. Flipping you over when you take too long to do as he says. Gasping at how quickly he tosses you, remorseless when you yelp out in surprise. 

His grip immediately seeks purchase on your back, maniacal when he continues the appointment like usual. The cold air conditioning hitting the crease of your bottom. Your eyes widen when you realize that your skirt has rode high enough for your ass to be exposed to Jeno’s wandering gaze. Wrists are immediately slapped away with a stinging pain when you try to protect your modesty. “No!” You scream.

“What did I say?” He pinches the inside of your thigh, taunting you for more of that sweet cry when he hurts you more. “See? You really don’t listen. I’ve warned you so many times, and look where that’s gotten you. Can’t you just be a good girl for me?”

“I already am!” You talk back, squealing when he smacks your exposed ass. “Fuck– Jeno!”

“I don’t think you are,” He scoffs, kneading the flesh that’s already forming a bruise from the slap. “Good girls don’t walk around with their asses out like little sluts.”

This mental flashbang of such a cruel Jeno paired with unrelenting caresses has a bout of wetness seeping from your core. Back arching pathetically when the aftershock travels to your clit. Biting your cheek when he laughs at your compromised position. Having to pull himself away from his desires for just a moment, remembering that you were here to be adjusted.

“See how bad you are for me? You made me forget what I was supposed to be doing.” His cadence now completely riddled with saccharine. “Let me take care of you, baby.”

Jeno has taken the words out your mouth. Physically incapable of forming a complete sentence, still in too much shock. Hands coming up to the top of your back, carrying on his adjustments much more harshly. One crack after another, that same air that fills your brain that you thrive off of. Moaning out in pleasure at the relief he provides. Both an angel and a devil with his hands.

“See?” He bends over, pulling your blouse down from your back to expose your shoulder blade. Laving his tongue against you before nipping at the crook of your jaw. Kissing whatever skin that your blouse will reveal. “If this is how obscenely you act when I’m just doing my job, I wonder how much louder you get when I do what I want.”

“What do you want?” You gasp out when he hikes your shirt up, now traveling down only to come back up, licking a fat stripe from the bottom all the way back up. Your hands grip into the sides of the drop bed, nails scratching crescents into the faux black leather. 

“Don’t be dense,” He grunts out while ripping your blouse over your head. Disposing of the material carelessly, meeting the fine slope of your back with an insatiable lust. The clasp of your lacy bra resembles a ribbon on top of a Christmas present. He unclasps it, eager to unwrap his gift. So close to achieving perfection, he loses himself to his desires. Mounting himself above you, a confined cock that feels massive now grinding between your thighs. He enjoys the struggle when you pathetically try to kick and squirm. “You know what I want.”

You do, and you know that you want it just as badly. Both day and night dreams of Jeno ravaging you with his brute strength. Marking you as his and bending you to close to impossible positions. Drooling at the thought of being fucked on every corner of his office loud enough to break the interior of the soundproof walls.

When you fall slack beneath him, he proceeds to strip you of your skirt. Still appalled by how lecherous you could be. The fall from grace as the friendly office lady to the woman he’s wanted to fuck senseless becoming a bane to his existence. 

“Please, Jeno…” You beg of him. Wanting him to do something, anything to satiate this new ache. Compared to the back pains you’ve experienced in the past, Jeno’s inflicted a new problem for you. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He coos.

“H-hurts,” You sniffle, unable to cope with not being full of him. “I need you to fix it.”

“Hm, what hurts?”

A full set of teeth form into the most devilish grin when you reach behind you, taking his hand into yours and guiding it to your sopping pussy, urging him to feel around the seat of the destroyed fabric. Panties now ruined to the point it sticks into your folds, thighs twitching wantonly. It was degrading. To be close to completely naked under a fully clothed man, yet you couldn’t help but love it. “Here… hurts here.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” 

“I need you, Jeno,” You practically sob. “Need you to fix it.”

As practitioner and patient, he had sworn long ago to provide his clientele with the best service. That applies now more than ever. Your wish was his command, and he plans on delivering on that tenfold. 

Climbing down your body, he stops past your ankles. Gripping at your panties and sliding them down your legs, growling at your glistening lips that shine bright under the white ceiling lights. Finding your ass once again and parting them for good measure, groaning when your cheeks jiggle back into position upon letting them go. “Gorgeous, beautiful body,” He praises you, fingers immediately darting towards your folds to give them an experimental flick, reeling at how easily you flinch under him. “And so fucking sensitive, too.”

Pushing up at your thighs, he has you in a downward dog, knees planted firmly on the drop bed and your back bent for him. Jeno’s hand sneaks around your belly and down your lower region, index and middle slotting around your clit. 

“Ahh–,” You gasp out loud, clasping a hand over your mouth at the attention to your most sensitive nerve. Wetting the tips of his fingers between your folds, traveling back instantly to caress circles into the nub. Lips coming down to the base of your back once again, already knowing many of your erogenous zones through the subtle fondling from your past visits. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?” He hums, pecking smooches down your ass. A one track mind to inhale your heady scent for himself.

“So good, fuck–!” Toppling over when he brings that same fat tongue to the center of your core, coated in spit when he shakes his head from side to side. Eating you out from the back with a vice, his two fingers still unrelenting against your clit. Pushing at your button and the tip of his appendage fighting to break past the barrier, succeeding with only little resistance. Eyes rolling to the back of your head when you feel him against your walls, shameless slurping as your wetness trickles down his throat. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Tastes so good, baby.” He rasps, breaking away for a moment of breath. Replacing his tongue with the fingers that were attacking your clit. Wrapping his other arm around your thigh to keep you from falling off, entertained at how you pathetically try to support yourself by planting your head into your forearms. Tummy sucking in and gasping for breath when he finds your g-spot with embarrassing ease. Almost as if your body was made for him to navigate.

“So spoiled,” He shakes his head at your incessant moaning, not surprised that he was right on the money to think you’d be such a whiny bitch. “Pretty girl acts like a slut to get fucked and she gets what she wants. You’re lucky this cunt makes up for it.”

When you turn to look behind you, you’re met with a gaze devoid of anything but a need to fuck and claim, locked onto your pussy like it was the only thing he knew in this world. His lips slick with your juices, hair a brazen mess that poked in several directions– the epitome of sex. Your desires personified into a single being.

Catching the way you ogle him, he snickers at your dumbfounded face. Amping up the intensity of his finger fucking, his palm slapping against your core with every meeting of the hilt to your entrance. Fucked out gazes lock onto one another, and he needs to make it known that you don’t hold a candle to him. Opening his mouth to make a show of lolling his tongue out, coming back to get a taste of your puckered rim.

“Wait, Jeno, not there!” You claw at his hair, grappling harshly against his scalp. The burn causes him to wince, features scrunching yet remaining adamant on tasting every part of your body. Pinning you down at your back, you’re now unable to fight him when your chest falls completely flat. Your other arm rendered useless as it’s your anchor to keep you from completely toppling over. Despite your protests, the circles that he draws with his pink muscle has you singing contradictory praises.

That knot at the core of your abdomen constricts, losing autonomy over your body and granting Jeno complete control. Features twisting to euphoria when he reaches lengths further with his fingers than past partners have with their own cocks. And when he’s able to break past the barrier of your tightest barrier of your upper hole and he flicks at the spongy wall inside, your vision goes white.

A broken cry crashes along the four walls, droplets of sticky wetness decorating Jeno from the bridge of his nose to the top of his collarbones. Immediately breaking away from you to focus on fingering you until you’ve given him all of your cum. Jaw dropped wide open as he tries to catch every bout of squirt. Nails scratching at his scalp and lacing into the strands for stability, the pain only aiding in the ache of his restrained cock. The stuffing of the leather now seeping out from how deeply you’ve scratched against it, its wood frame misaligned with the weight that Jeno had planted on top of you. 

Your body is limp when your orgasm subsides, aftershocks still causing you to jolt when Jeno gives your pussy a light slap. 

“Best orgasm of your life, huh?” He gloats, cleaning off the remaining stickiness on his face with the back of his hand. Bringing his wrist that’s adorned by a Rolex up to his knuckles. Your essence now etched into every one of his senses. You lay almost lifeless and without a response. A pathetic sight that causes Jeno to scowl, offended that you could even think that he was done with you. 

Still trying to catch your breath, you hear a ghost of a whisper, metal clanking and clothes rustling. When you muster up the energy, you catch Jeno in your peripheral. Unbuttoning his black dress shirt and unbuckling his belt, the brand name material slipping from his clutches. The metal of the buckle clanking against the floor, his exposed collarbones shining with perspiration and your cum.

He circles around the bed to meet you, looking down at you with a snide smile when you realize that he’s now shirtless. It was true, he really did have visuals sculpted by the Gods. Broad shoulders on top of a pronounced chest, slimming down to a lean waist. 

 Slowly unzipping his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. Finally revealing his cock in all of its glory, monstrous in size. Long and girthy, the biggest you’ve ever encountered. Slapping against his stomach and his precum covered tip meeting his bellybutton. It’s almost terrifying, there’s no way you could ever take him.

As if he’s read your mind, he cups your face sweetly like he’s done plenty of times before– yet it holds more of a threatening aura than any positive reinforcements. “Don’t be scared. I’ll make sure it fits.” He murmurs, loving how you instinctually take his thumb into your mouth.

When he leaves your wet cavern, he grabs at the base of his cock and places it just below your lips. “Spit.” He instructs, leaving no room for objection.

Dropping a thick glob of saliva, he immediately bobs it up and down to coat it along his length. A significant amount of precum aiding him even further in lubrication. The mix of fluids riddling the room with the pungent smell of sex. You’re both inebriated off of the prospect of what’s about to occur next.

Biceps are angled deliciously when he bends down to wrap his arms around your waist, flipping you back onto your back. A shadow of your sweet doctor fading in when he climbs on top of you once again, despite how beautifully he glows. You two nod at each other when he lines himself up with your core, thankful for the pool that has formed between your thighs. 

“Breathe for me, alright?” He says. It takes a great deal to control himself, wanting nothing more than to plunge into you in one go. Regardless, he controls his urges. His tip enters you slowly, the both of you gasping in unison at the newfound pleasure. Weeks of mixed signals now coming to fruition with every inch he goes deeper. “God, you’re fucking tight.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Jeno was so thick that it felt like he was splitting you in half, parting your walls and filling up every crevice inside. Each inch gives you a sense of fulfillment when you earn his praises. Showering you with compliments, affirming how good you’re making him feel and how wet you are.

“That’s my good little slut,” Jeno groans into your hair. Delivering a quick kiss to your ear before licking up the shell, hoping it distracts you from the strain. He stills after bottoming out, merely rutting around in place of fucking you mercilessly. Taking a moment to relish in the way your pussy encapsulates his cock, coating him with your sticky arousal to the point it leaks out.

Pain quickly fades into blissful pleasure. Cupping his jaw to urge him to look at you, you feel your chest burn at his handsome face. His ruined hair still looks perfect when it falls over his forehead messily, lips red and swollen from all he’s done to you. “I’m okay now, you can move.” You confirm, and the shift in his demeanor lets you know that you don’t have to tell him twice.

He starts with a few experimental thrusts, watching you closely and seeing what spots make you tick. Noting that you like when he puts power into his thrusts. Gripping the frame of the cushion your head rests on, he lifts himself to pull out until it’s only the tip that connects you. Granting you maybe a second of peace before immediately plunging back down, causing you to screech out in euphoria. 

From there, everything is fair game. Bodies slapping against one another when he grips your ankles and spreads them apart. Fucking you with purpose, everything from his hairline to his abs are covered in sweat. The shine makes his skin glow gold, every taut muscle accentuated by the perspiration. 

While your pussy is a delight and has him throwing his head back, he still has so many fantasies that he wants to fulfill. Releasing your ankles, your legs plop down weakly. Pulling out of you and leaving you empty, causing you to shriek at the loss. Scrambling to sit up when he stands up, trying to grab at his cock to lead him back inside. “No, no, no–!”

Nothing could have prepared you for when he lifts you up from the bed with nothing more than a grunt, delivering another stinging slap when you scream at him. Slapping at his shoulders to let you down even if your body betrays you by wrapping your legs around his waist. Traveling only a few paces, he slams you against the nearest wall. Framed photos and contents in bookshelves shaking, gasping out when he realigns his cock with your entrance.

When he dons a blank expression, as if wondering what to do next, you furrow your eyebrows together. Pussy still empty and in need of being filled, you whine. “Jeno, hurry, please.”

He doesn’t thrust up into you however, instead he plants you down onto his cock. Using his pure arm strength to lift you up and down like a fuckdoll. His forearms blazing with bulging veins. Your back is burning as it scrapes against the wall deliciously. Amazed at such fortitude, you continue to cry out when he hits that spot inside you with precision each time. A babbling mess when your chests collide and he licks up the salty tears that you’ve shed, laughing into your ear mischievously.

“I hope you know that nobody will ever be able to fuck you like this,” He laughs out, grip on your ass spreading the cheeks apart to accentuate his point. “No matter who you find in the future– they’ll never be as good as me. You know that right, baby?” 

You bob your head to agree with whatever you caught from his sentence, stroking his ego just the way he likes. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t formulate your own thoughts at this point. Much like the slight high you experience whenever Jeno had adjusted you before, your head light and empty– you now feel it at its utmost potential. Unable to control your body when a trail of spit leaks out of the corner of your chin.

Jeno stares at you fondly, arms growing just a tad tired. He transfers the effort into his legs, planting his weight into his calves to stabilize you. Allowing for one of your legs to fall to go even deeper, your other thigh still folded in. Holding your head with his hand, he knows you’ve floated into another state of being, your pussy unconsciously clasping around him every time he angles just right.

“What a dumb, pretty baby,” He practically sings, utterly in awe at how fucked out he’s gotten you. Licking off the drool from your lip with the intent to clean you up nicely. Dropping your leg that’s hiked up, he lifts you once again. Now leading you to his desk, letting you down only to bend you over. “Let’s finish together, okay?”

Moaning out something that sounded like a yes, he takes what he can get when he reenters you for the third time. Eyes fluttering shut when you surround him once again. “Think this pussy might be the death of me.” He grunts.

“Your cock is soo good,” You mewl, your breasts cool against the mahogany of his desk. Seeking sanctuary by grabbing onto whatever trinkets or paperweights that litter the surface. The back of your thighs aching from trying to keep up with Jeno’s relentless pace. “So, so, big.”

“Yeah?” He lifts a sweat dripped brow, pistoning his hips with generosity. Taking care of his patient will always be his top priority. Fingers meeting your clit one last time, swiping at it with ease from how wet it is. “Cum for me now, baby. You earned it. Did so well for me.”

Clenching his thighs, he fucks into you one last time. Pushing into your body with his own so forcefully that you ride up the desk. One last cry to the empty vicinity, nothing registers except for Jeno. His scent, how he feels, those hands that have gotten you into so much trouble– he really fucked you so good. So good that all you know at the moment is his name. Your orgasm washing over you, pussy clenching impossibly tightly he roars. More squirt shooting out of you, a sticky mess falling onto the carpet floor of his office.

In a few more self indulgent thrusts of his own, Jeno pulls out completely. Pumping himself no more than two times before his cum flies out. Bobbing up and down to get out every last drop of creamy white, painting your beautiful back with his liquid. Harsh gasps are paired with your patternless pants, the both of you were spent.

Jeno decides to utilize the last of his energy for good. Lifting you up once again and walking towards the comfortable loveseat that rests in the corner of the room. The sticky fluids aren't much of a problem while you catch your breaths. He wraps his arms around to hold you in his lap, your head resting against his chest. Rubbing circles into your neck and whispering sweet praises, waiting patiently for you to come back to earth.

“You okay?” He asks when your eyelids flutter up slowly, that shine back in your face to let him know that you’ve recovered. “Lost you there for a little bit.” He teases, pinching at your cheek playfully.

“Oh, shut up.” You pitifully try to push him away, much to no avail. Flashing you a charming grin that rivals the sun itself. “I knew that chiropractors were quacks.”

“Not my fault you’re hot as fuck.”

“I said ‘shut uup’,” You whine, dropping your head into his shoulder to give yourself more time to recuperate. “Let me rest. I think you’ve somehow caused more damage to my back than heal it.”

It’s obvious that you’re overexaggerating, but Jeno can’t help but accept the backhanded compliment with pride. Admiring the relaxed smile you try to hide from him, he pats your hair that’s sticking up back down.

“Guess we’ll just have to keep seeing each other then.” He replies, falling into a slumber himself.

——

“So.”

“So?”

“We’re okay right?” You tilt your head curiously, now fully rested and cleaned up. Jeno having to rush the both of you to the staff only bathroom when Jisung left for break, a few scanty touches here and there. 

Hands lodged into his pockets, Jeno is even more handsome with the afterglow of sex. You hope you’re at least a fraction as presentable as he is. “If you’re okay, I’d say we’re just peachy. However–”

“Oh god.” You dread the worst case scenario of being blacklisted and having to find another chiropractor.

“Will you let me finish?” He glowers at you, making you shut up immediately. Now that you know that Lee Jeno is not to be messed with. “Anyways,” He continues. “I think you deserve a treat for being so good.”

Taking his right hand out of his pocket, he presents you with a business card. A complete contrast to the simplicity of Jeno’s, a completely black square with red accents. Before you get a chance to read what’s written, he speaks again. “That’s my colleague here at the complex. He’s actually right across the hall.”

Now given the opportunity, you find that Jeno has referred you to a nail bar. “And what is this treat you’re offering?”

“Well, if you’re ever interested in getting a manicure or pedicure, you’ll want to go to him. He’s the best in town. Nobody does nail art like him,” He chuckles. “Let me know if you’re interested. I’ll ask him to give you a discount.”

If there’s anything you’ve learned from these past few weeks, it’s that investing in yourself a little goes a long way. Spending too much time worried about necessities that require minimal maintenance, you’ve forgotten to indulge yourself along the way. Looking down at your nail beds whose cuticles you’ve failed to tend to, you take Jeno’s offer into consideration.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.” You give him your warmest smile. “Can I ask you something though?”

“Go for it.”

“Haechan told me it’s been hard to schedule with you recently, but I’ve been seeing you pretty often.” You try to phrase it as humbly as possible, not wanting to come off as arrogant. “Is there a reason for that?” 

“I mean, you did need more adjustment than my other patients who have been long time regulars. But I guess I got a little ahead of myself.” He boxes his nose, and for the first time ever you think you’ve caught Dr. Lee Jeno’s cool exterior slipping. “You have a really nice ass.”

“Thanks.” You deadpan. “You have nice arms– and legs, and a really nice… nevermind.”

Shaking his head at you, he walks you out when you take your leave. Bidding you adieu with a friendly pat, the both of you thankful that the heated sex hasn’t obstructed your relationship as patient and doctor at all.

You reach high into the sky, feeling like you’re at your absolute best. Wondering what else you can do to improve your state of being. Thinking back to the business card that you had pocketed, you locate the other door adjacent to Jeno’s. Much to his description, there is a sign that indicates that there is very much a beauty salon on the other side of that door.

Shrugging to yourself, you decide you’ll sleep on his offer. Making your way to the front desk to find Jisung eating away at his meal. You realize you’ve already grown fond of how this business is run. 

“Come back and see us!” Jisung waves at you, to which you return with equal enthusiasm. “Hope to see you again soon!”

You realize it’s inevitable when you exit the front lobby and step out into the parking lot. The large Neo Therapy Practitioners sign standing proud at the awning above you, the new business card taking up space in your purse–

You’ll be seeing them alright.

end (☺) -> next

────── 〔✿〕──────

author’s note: if you made it all the way here, thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it. 

i really want to thank panty nonnie who i’ve been in contact with through dms and have grown very close with in the past month. they’ve been an absolute angel and i couldn’t have gotten over my writer’s block without them. so, if you’re reading this (again hehe) just know that you’re the best and am more than grateful for all you’ve done for me. <3

[romanoffsbish]

Shelter me From the Storm

Actress!Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Stripped Bare (Part 1) / Two people asked for this and I already had the ideas so boom. 😂

Warnings: Loss of Parent / Grief. Post-Partum Depression (Not mentioned, but heavily implied—hygiene/eating struggles, struggle to bond/help). Media (Implied lack of respect for Sex Work).

Smut: Soft | Daddy (N) | Nat has a penis | Oral (Both) | Fingering | Overstimulation | Squirting | Unprotected / Breeding | Cockwarming (Plugging)

18+ | Minors DNI | Please Don’t Report, it’s labeled properly.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Natasha's raspy voice startled you, but it also soothed your aching soul. It'd been exactly two months since the two of you moved to Oregon to officially start your life together. "My mom, us, them."

The redhead nodded solemnly, worried eyes casted down onto your fidgeting hands. She settled down beside you on the porch swing, and took your freezing hands between hers. Gently as ever she kissed, and breathed onto them until she deemed them warm enough.

"You couldn't have worn mittens?" She teased, then her strong arms wrapped around your body so she could pull you into her lap. Her forehead leaned against yours as she tried her best to comfort you. It was you who broke the distance and pressed your lips to hers for a kiss that reminded you that you were really there.

——

You were still alive, even if your mom wasn't. The thought broke you, this idea that Apollo and Luna would grow up without her love.

"I miss her," you sniffled, and the redhead sighed empathetically, "Me too moya lyubov'."

A smile graced your face at the memories of Nat with your mom. They'd only known one another for a little over a year, but your wife stole your mother's heart instantly. The sick woman never missed a chance to talk to her, even if it involved interrupting your convos.

They had a pure love of you in common, so it was easy for them to spend hours talking. It warmed your heart, but also infuriated you to no end when your mom shared your secrets.

Natasha never needed to know about your failed prom, or about how you believed in Santa and his friends until sophomore year.

The redhead loved to tease you about it, even now, "Who else will tell me all your secrets?"

"Thank fuck that's over," you sadly joked, because embarrassing as it was, you'd let your mother release all of your most embarrassing moments in life if it meant she was still here.

"Ooh, What about Cole?"

You snorted, "Not if he wants to stay alive."

"You're no fun."

Silence soon fell over the both of you as you watched the rain harshly pelting down. The pavement, and dirt saturated in no time as mother nature wept, you weren't sure of her reason, but you liked to think it was for your mom. She loved the rain, it never presented as an inconvenience to her like it did for others, you remember chasing the rainbows with her.

Losing her was polarizing really. It was always coming, but you were never prepared for it.

All that really brought you comfort since she passed, was that she met your daughter first.

Luna Romanoff, the little girl with your wife's cheeky smile, and your mothers love for music.

At only ten months old she was a little rockstar. The xylophone was her go to instrument, it made you feel like your mom's name as her middle prophesied their clear connection. They had met, then five hours later your mom died.

Natasha took care of everything after, she still does some days when you can't manage. You usually feel bad, but every time she senses it, and reminds you that there's nothing else she'd rather be doing than caring for her family.

"I'm going to miss you too," you finally broke it, voice cracking as your emotions got the best of you. "I wish you didn't have to leave at all."

"Me neither," Nat replied in the same tone, a tear slipped down her face as she stewed over her departure this evening. Leaving you in such a vulnerable state wasn't easy, but she hadn't a choice as she had to do a slurry of interviews for her upcoming film, as well as clear the air on her sudden disappearance from Hollywood.

It was the only way the execs would let her off the hook for the premiere. The buzz from her interviews will give them enough scandalous PR. Especially when she announces this will be her last film for a long while. The seats will fill.

She'd pleaded for zoom interviews, but even being as big as she was, they wouldn't budge.

"I wouldn't go if I had a choice," she reminded you for the umpteenth time. "I know Natty."

"It just sucks," she voiced your thoughts.

You chuckled humorlessly, "Majorly."

The sudden sound of a cry through the baby monitor brought you and your wife out of your bubble of intermixed grievances, and right into the house where you found a shocked Apollo hovering over Luna's traveling bassinet.

Five minutes ago they were peacefully napping, one in a heap of blankets and toys, while the other was cozy in her bed. It was safest not to move your son, he'd have woken up lively.

Where he lays, he stays—a household motto.

The scene was clear as day, he'd climbed up onto the couch with a devious curiosity, and now it appears the young boy had slapped her.

Natasha swiftly moved to the side of the couch, stopping your son from repeating the offense with a gentle catch of his hand. With ease she scooped the boy onto her hip, then she lovingly reached down to smooth a hand over your daughters face. Her cries stopped instantly.

After your daughter was soothed you watched quietly as Natasha handled your son. Her look was stern, but her eyes were still adoringly soft. There was no true harm done, it was clear Luna was mostly just shocked, not genuinely hurt.

Plus, he's only two, this was like a canon event.

"Apo," she called his attention to her with the nickname derived from his inability to say his. "You have to be gentle," she softly reminded him, using her hand to mimic proper touch as she continued to brush her hand over your daughters face until she was sleeping again.

Apollo butchered the word as he repeated it, but he mimicked her perfectly. Tiny hands covered in god knows what reached out to cup her face, something he'd seen done before. Both of your hearts beamed at the boy for his slow, but steady understanding. This would probably happen again, from both ends, but you knew that it would be an easy resolution.

Natasha's gentle approach to the kids was a surprising discovery you'd made. Not that you expected her to be downright cruel, but you just expected more sternness from your former experiences. But then you remember the Natty that you'd loved was always there back then too, and then it all makes sense. The first time you witnessed it was when your infant son was playing with an extension cord. You wanted to run over and rip it from his hands, but she'd stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

Instead she walked over to him, created some static electricity with her hands then tapped his. It seemed almost cruel, but then she picked him up as he wailed, then that soon faded into hiccups and it all became clearer to you.

He'd wanted her attention all along, and she taught him a valuable lesson in the process.

The gentleness came right after, when she held him close while she hummed a Russian lullaby to soothe him. All the while pointing to the enticing cord and saying a simple, firm no-no.

You remember watching them fondly, with a smile on your face, a hand on your bump, and a subtle sense of relief that'd washed over you.

No matter what came, you knew you'd all be safe with Natasha. Parenting was a learning curve, without your mom to guide you you've lost it, but you felt like she'd had it mastered.

That's why after the night slowly crept in you anticipated the arrival of your little brother. He's flying in from New York, and should be to your house by 8:30pm, and Nat has to be gone by 9pm, or she knows she'll never make it.

Apollo had already gone down for the night, but Luna Bear was still a live wire. Bouncing on her mama's hip while haphazardly shaking her head side to side in a tiring game of 'no-no'

"Wow, you've gotten so big Lunar Eclipse," your brother greeted the giggling baby, who turned to him with a wide, curious smile. Natasha sent him one as well at the relief she felt since she no longer had to shake her head.

"Luna," you corrected with a fixed glare. "I've been meaning to ask you about that sis."

"Cole," you warned through gritted teeth, and for the first time Natasha had realized the help she planned might actually be the bother.

"Why would you name your kids like animals?"

Natasha glared at your brother just the same, coddling the baby into her chest with a hand over her ear to shield her from hearing him

"You're the most annoying person on Earth," you deadpanned, he gasped in offense. "Give me the cat, and say your sappy goodbyes."

Natasha's arms around your waist stopped you from chasing your cackling brother down as he took your giggling daughter into the house.

"Don't leave me with him," you pleaded. "I won't look good in an orange jumpsuit Nat."

Natasha snorted softly, "You're so dramatic." Then she leaned in to kiss you slowly, a bunch of unspoken words being exchanged: 'I'm only a call away,' 'Don't kill your brother, please,' and 'Seriously, call me if you need me,' but the most important of messages came tumbling from your very own parted lips, "I love you."

Natasha smiled against you, she instantly repeated the sentiment, "I love you too Y/N. With all of me. You'll be okay detka. Promise."

The driver honked impatiently, and you fought off the urge to flip them off. Natasha rolled her eyes as she saw the petty conflict behind yours. "I'll be back in three sleeps sweetheart, you take care of yourself while I'm gone please."

Natasha sighed as she saw you bite your lip, a nervous habit of yours she'd become familiar with. You never wanted to disappoint Natasha, but you felt like you always were when you couldn't even manage the mundane tasks.

"It's hard, I know it is," she sympathized with your newfound wave of inability. "But eat, drink water, and sleep whenever possible."

"I'll try," you whisper against her chest as she hugs you close for a final moment. "That's all I ask moya lyubov, you deserve to be nourished."

"Three days," you whispered, your eyes shut tight as you reeled in your emotions. You could break down when she made it onto the road.

"Then there'll be no more leaving, we got this."

"Safe travels Natty." You kissed her cheek, then made the move to slip from her grasp, knowing all too well that she wouldn't willingly let go.

As you entered the house she watched, making her driver more irritated but she didn't care. His paycheck was signed by her, therefore his patience was paid for. She watched closely and nearly broke down when she saw a little Luna crying as her hands slammed into the window.

It was strange, how the ten month old could understand the implications of her mother in the car, and it hurt the woman's aching soul.

Once you locked the door, and scooped your daughter up she told released a breath and told the driver he could take off as she sent off a worried text to Cole, begging him to keep an eye on you like he promised her he would.

Then she sat back and began to count down the milliseconds until she could return to you.

—

The following morning came with a wake up Facetime call, your wife waited until it was 9am your time, then spent hours virtually cuddling. Around 12pm she bid you farewell, as it was 3pm in New York, her interview was for 6pm, but with makeup and wardrobe it was time.

It was live, so at 3pm you'd ensured the babies were already down for a nap, and settled onto the couch in some clean pajamas with your emotional support water bottle, and chips.

Natasha looked beautiful as she crossed the stage, with practiced elegance she flashed her award winning smile, and you swooned. It felt like it was directed at you, and with it being your Natasha you realized it probably was.

They discussed the movie, it was a smooth interview, until the hot topic, you, came up.

"So, tell me Natasha, who's the mystery girl?"

Natasha instantly grimaced, but quickly shook the expression for one of happiness. "My wife."

"Wife, huh?" He chuckled nervously, you both saw a question on his mind designed to send you spiraling. "Fans across the globe really thought you'd end up with Wanda Maximoff."

Natasha breathed harshly through her nose, it took all of her patience to remain composed.

"Wanda is nothing more than a lifelong friend." Natasha cooly replied. "Who's happily engaged, need I remind you, to The Vision Stark."

"Hindsight is 20/20," he jested awkwardly.

"Mhm," Natasha hummed, not even humoring the man with a response as she watched him fumble through his note cards for more. She smiled, it was perceivably smug, and made you feel something you'd yet to in almost a year.

He took a steadying breath before his face relaxed, then he continued his futile attack.

"I have it on good authority that your wife, Y/N Y/L/N." Natasha cut him off, "Romanoff."

"Sorry," he replied annoyedly, "We've been informed that Y/N Romanoff was a stripper."

Natasha nods thoughtfully. "Is there a question there, or are we just stating useless facts. If so, I'd like to inform you your tie is on wrong."

Your eyes widened, in all your years of knowing of Natasha, you'd never seen her so snarky. It was really hot, and you truly couldn't deny it.

"I guess, if it wasn't obvious," he starts shakily, as if he feared the 5'3 redheaded woman. "The world is wondering if that's how you met."

"Well, the honest answer is yes." The audience gasped, she rolled her eyes behind her lids knowing they were likely prompted to do that for shock value alone. "I know right? How shocking that rich people still go to strip clubs."

Her eyes then narrowed onto the nervous host. "As if you yourself aren't a regular Johnny."

"Jimmy," he timidly corrected and she laughed. Boy did she laugh, it was mocking, and had the man sweating through his shirt. "My apologies, so tell me Jimbo, does your wife know what happens during the actual late nights? We both know this show is mislabeled. It ends by 7pm, but your life is only just beginning then right?"

The raven haired man gulped, it was clear Nat was prepared for his intrusive questioning. You caught sight of Natasha's sideways smirk just as the show cut to a commercial, and when it returned your wife was no longer there. Cole snickered from beside you, "Mom would have loved to see this, God, I adore your wife Y/N."

You hummed your agreement, then left him to tend to the crying babies while you answered your wife's phone call. She was panicking, but you reassured her that it'll be okay. That her die hard fans wouldn't leave, and that with the progressive nature of Hollywood that she'd likely receive accolades for her honesty, and her overall support of the sex work industry.

Even if you both knew it wasn't a guarantee, Natasha couldn't help but to believe you. In the end, if this is where her career ended she didn't mind. She had more than enough money to retire, and she still would have her business.

Natasha ended the call after you'd calmed her as she had more interviews to prepare for.

It felt fulfilling being there for her, helping her through a freak out for once instead of it being the other way around. You knew it wasn't a competition, but it's hard to think otherwise when it's always you on the visibly weaker end.

There was a renewed confidence in your step now, and it showed when you fixed lunch for the whole house instead of letting Cole. You'd ushered him off to play with the kids, and got comfy with the concepts of cooking again.

—

When the next day came you got to hear from Nat sporadically. She told you all about her day, the highlight apparently came when she got to answer fan's questions while playing with cats. You rolled your eyes, knowing now that she'd be insufferable until you finally said yes to her taking in the stray kittens that lived amongst Wanda's garden. The brunette wanted to take them to a shelter a week ago, but Nat told her she'd win you over soon enough.

She begged again before she got off the call, and she was right, because that evening you sent her a picture before she went to sleep of a relieved Wanda on your doorstep with a box.

Natasha called you on the verge of tears, she'd only hung up the phone an hour ago so she could take a shower and get ready for bed. It was only 4pm for you, and 7pm for her, but she had an early morning interview before she was then meant to catch an afternoon flight home.

So, after she thanked you profusely, she settled down in her bed, and you on the couch as you pulled up her most recent interview done with Clint Barton. An actor turned talk show host.

He was also her very best friend, so of course she gave him the tell all story others wanted.

"So Natasha," Clint started with a teasing smirk. "Mhm?" She hummed playfully, her eyes softly rolled as a smirk overtook her face.

"When do I get to meet my niece and nephew?"

"Whenever you catch a flight out to Oregon."

"That's right," he bounces off her seamlessly, "You made the bold move to the Beaver state, what is in Oregon that's not in LA or NYC?"

"Peace," she answered simply. "It's gorgeous, and it's where my love wanted to end up."

Clint smiled, it was incredibly genuine as he admired the lovesick one your wife wore. The man has yet to meet you, but he plans to hug you tightly in silent thanks for changing her life for the better and making her this happy. He's watched her through every phase, the partying, all the meaningless hooking up, to the present.

Where she is outwardly softer, but as expected she is still guarded where she needed to be.

"Your love," he acknowledges, a slight tease to his tone as he met her eyes again. "Why don't you tell me all about who's taking you from us."

Natasha glared at him, but it was a playful way, that she agreed to, to ease her into her purpose for this interview. "You know Clint, I've been acting ever since I was a kid," she thoughtfully began, "It's all I've ever known honestly. It's been my greatest passion for three decades."

She took in a steadying breath, then sighed while wearing a shy smile, "It wasn't until I met her that I envisioned more for myself," her cheeks reddened at the thought of exposing herself in such a vulnerable way to the world.

Acting, telling others stories, was what she did best, but it felt foreign to tell her own like this.

With her eyes closed she imagined your smile, then she heard the memory of your kids giggles and suddenly it was the easiest decision. "Y/N is my light at the end of the tunnel, truthfully."

Clint nodded proudly, leaning back in his seat to metaphorically open the floor up to her.

"I know the world is already freaking out, some angry that I'm off the market, others mad that she's a former stripper, but I don't know why any of that matters to them." Natasha frowned as she tried not to cry. "People are saying my career will end with this, and to those people I say good fucking riddance. I've given almost every last piece of me to this industry, and if me finally choosing my happiness is a problem then I'll let it be for only them. I'm happier than I've ever been, and that is my truth."

"So, you're leaving Hollywood behind?" He asked for clarity, and she shook her head in a partial negation. "I have decided to take a step back, this upcoming film is going to be my final for an indefinite amount of time. I want to focus on my family, and I deserve a break."

"That you do Natasha," Clint acknowledged, behind him on a screen a slideshow of all of her hit movies began to appear. Emphasizing the focus of conversation. "If you retired today I'd say that you've left your mark on the world, even more so with those beautiful babies."

"They are my entire world." Natasha clarified, they were her legacy, sure, but they were so much more than that too. They were a perfect mixture of you both. Apollo with her distinctive eyes, and your sweet smile. Then Luna with her smile, and dimples and your huffy temper.

Both with their own blooming personalities.

The redhead smiled brightly when a photo then flickered on the screen of your little family. The four of you were sat on a park bench, Apollo stood on her lap with his hand pointing to something behind her, she had smiled at the camera, but her eyes focus was torn between him and the phone. Then sat beside her was you, with a blanket over your chest, shielding the hungry baby from the harsh Fall winds.

It was meant to be a cute family photo, and it still was, but far more dysfunctional than intended. Natasha had tried to get Apollo to turn around, but he wouldn't take his eyes off of the firetruck in the back. Then Luna cried, and it was clearly hunger so you let her latch on, and even then it could've been cute, but then she grunted angrily so you covered her.

"You guys look happy," Clint acknowledged, and the woman smiled fondly. "We are."

"Well, I hope that in a few years time we'll be able to see you back on the screen," Clint moves to wrap up the segment. "But if we don't, then I'd like to dedicate a moment of silence to the greatest loss in the industry."

"Oh stop it," she joked tearily, leaning forward to playfully shove his shoulder. Clint winked at the emotional redhead, then he yanked her up and into a bear hug. "Tell Y/N I look forward to meeting her," he whispered, then he planted a kiss on her cheek, and she left the stage with a chorus of loud applause following her.

You turned the TV off, then wiped at the few tears that she'd elicited from you. Seeing her so vulnerable on TV, all in an attempt to make the media go easier on you, was overwhelming. It made your heart swell with more love than before and you couldn't quiet grasp how you could even love her more than you already did.

It also made you want her more than you did yesterday. No longer was it a feeling you could ignore, but instead a deep seeded need you'd had every intention of satiating upon your wife's return. Which is why you rebooked your brothers flight home, and reminded him about that one time you covered for him when he rear ended your evil neighbor Mildred's parked car.

—

The last thing Natasha expected to find as she entered your house late at night was you. But on the couch you sat, with a glass of red wine, and in a matter of seconds you were on her.

"Moya lyubov' I said drink water," she groaned, but it was a humored one. You looked up at her with wide eyes, then you smiled innocently. "Would you believe me if I said that Jesus showed up and magicked it himself?"

"Oh, is that so?" She cackled in a hushed way, you nodded vehemently. "Scouts honor Natty!"

"Mhm?" She teasingly hummed, the vibrato felt as she pressed her lips to yours, and you gasped affectedly. Natasha tried to pull back, feeling guilty for looking like she was trying to initiate anything, but then she felt guilty for feeling guilty because of course she wants you.

"No," you whimpered and clung to her biceps. "Daddy please, I-I'm ready." You were wet, desperation was controlling your mind now.

"You're drunk detka," she pointed out, but you showed her the bottle, proving that you'd only poured the one glass and hadn't had more than two sips. Which was only for liquid courage.

"What's changed for you?" Natasha pulled you down into her lap, you whined in frustration, but then you saw the glossy viridescent orbs full of concern waiting for your reply.

"Seeing you lose your cool on TV over me was hot," you admitted shamelessly, stroking her big ego in the hopes that it'd soon be her cock.

The redhead blushed, but quickly regained her cool as she leaned back into the cushion of the couch and firmly gripped your thighs apart.

"Can I see how hot it made you detka?" Her raspy voice made you dizzy, you nodded and moaned a soft please so she eagerly padded at the wetness seeping through your panties. "Oh look at you detka, you're just so needy, huh?"

She cursed in Russian when you answered with a buck of your hips. With a swift hand she laid you down and said, "You have to be quiet."

You shook your head. "I reminded Cole of a secret I kept, so he collected the kids and all they'd need and went to the guest suite."

"I knew I married a genius," she teased, her heart nearly exploded as you laughed. It'd been so rare to hear nowadays, so it was cherished.

"What do you want moya lyubov'?" Natasha looked deep in your eyes, wearing a smile that said only your pleasure was enough for her.

Instead of answering you pulled her down with a hand wrapped behind the nape of her neck. The kiss was soft, almost exploratory as it'd been so long since you'd had a spike in libido. But when Natasha still remained timid you took the initiative, your hand cupped her bulge, and you slid your tongue over her bottom lip.

She gasped and your tongue pushed beyond her lips, but hers expertly swirled around yours then darted down your throat. As you gagged she couldn't fight off the aching need so she pushed down into your hand and moaned.

The redhead pulled away, panting heavily as she tried to reel her neediness in. You drove her body wild, but she didn't want to get too lost in the lust if you weren't ready yet.

"You've been so patient with me," you purred, "Let me take care of you daddy, please?"

Natasha suddenly stilled, her sorrowful eyes set on  yours. "Hey no, detka, you deserve endless patience without expectations."

"Yeah, I know," you breathed. "But we went from having sex every few days to not at all."

Natasha smiled tenderly, her hand cupped your cheek. "That's fine, I don't need sex to be happy with you Y/N. You alone are enough."

"Well, that sentiment is returned, but I'm absolutely serious, so let me give you head."

Natasha was shocked by your bold words, it was a quick recovery though as she snorted, "If I ever say no, please do have me committed."

Natasha smiled triumphantly as you giggled, it always made her heart warm to hear your joy.

The mood swiftly returned to one of lust when after she leaned back you slid out and onto the ground on your knees. The woman was tired, jet lagged to be more precise, but that didn't stop her from helping you take her sweats off.

Natasha was undeniably aroused, her cock stood tall as soon as you slid her boxers off.

"You gonna stare all night detka?" Natasha teased, then her eyes softened. "If you're not ready, just say the word lyubov', it'll be okay."

You shook your head free of worry, and smiled at her for being so sweet. It was comically endearing. Here she sat with an erection that had to be hurting her at this point and she only cared about your comfort. Which actually only made you even more excited to suck her off.

Natasha groaned, the sound raspier than ever before as you traced your tongue over the veins of her cock. Her hands gripped the cushions of the couch as your lips wrapped around her tip, and she nearly came on the spot as your hands steadily pumped up from the base of her cock as your other hand lazily played with her balls.

Her breathing became increasingly labored as you bobbed your head up and down her length, you could feel yourself dripping down your thighs as you'd gone commando beneath her sleep shirt. Hearing just how much she was enjoying this had immeasurably turned you on.

Natasha's hips involuntarily jerked. "Oh fuck." You giggled around her shaft, the vibrations making her do it again, and this time you'd choked. Universal instant karma you suppose.

Natasha stilled, fearful eyes looking down into yours. "I'm okay," you immediately said after gasping for air upon releasing her cock, you didn't move far though, you instead hovered her tip with a goofy smile for hopeful clarity.

"Are you close?" You asked, but with how her shaft continued to twitch beneath your fingertips you'd figured you had your answer. Natasha nodded, it was uncharacteristically shy and you found yourself wanting more soft sensual moments just like this one with her. 

"Good." You mused. "Now how about you take over and cum down my throat as a reward."

The way you winked made the pit within her begin to unravel, Natasha's tip instantly coated in pebbles of white as you took over half of her length into your mouth, and proceeded to let her fuck your throat until it was raw. Your nails dug into the skin of her thighs that you were gripping for stability as she thrusted wildly, and glorious tears ran down your warm cheeks.

When she released down your throat the pleasure was blinding, her eyes slammed shut and she moaned for a prolonged moment as the hot spurts didn't stop. Strands of her cum slid down your chin along with your drool as she continuously thrusted until that wave of pleasure she was riding came to an end. 

While you both caught your breath you began to get handsy, impatiently pulling at the hem of her shirt until she removed it with a huff of amusement. You then kissed up her body until her cock was trapped against her abdomen by your slippery cunt, and your lips met hers.

Natasha's hands fell to your hips instinctually, and she guided you as you slowly ground into her, letting her tongue explore your mouth. When you whimpered with need she pulled back and you were met with dark, lusty eyes.

"I know you want me inside detka," she teased as she ran a thumb over your swollen lip that was still somewhat coated in her essence. "But daddy's missed your pussy in more ways than one, and I can't help but to need to taste you."

"Please," you whispered affectedly, and she pulled you back in for a deep, heartfelt kiss. "Thank you detka, lay down for daddy now."

Natasha removed your shirt seamlessly as you laid down, the fabric had barely left your skin before you felt her hands all over your body. One second they were gripping you by the hips to keep you from bucking into her face, then they no longer cared as they sought out your breasts. Natasha's tongue flicked over your bundle of nerves just as her thumbs pinched your nubs, and your body writhed as you came.

The orgasm you experienced was intense as the aftershocks continued rolling through you, and in retrospect it was also embarrassingly quick. But it'd been so long and Natasha was just that good, she never struggled to get you to let go.

Every muscle in your body relaxed for all of two seconds, but then the redhead continued to lavish away at your cunt. Cleaning up your arousal, but then delving even deeper to pull another, somehow more intense orgasm from the depths of your soul. Stars bloomed behind the lids of your eyes as you screamed her title.

Over and over again too. Natasha was like a woman starved as she refused to leave her place between your thighs. When you tried to shimmy away she growled, it was terrifying, but in the best way as you involuntarily gushed.

You knew that if you really needed her to stop you could say your safe word, but as much as you felt overstimulated you felt just as good.

"Fuck I missed this," Natasha moaned as she continued to lick at your glistening, puffy cunt. "If I could, I'd never leave this sacred spot."

You were cognitively incapable of a verbalized response besides the occasional, pitiful whine.

Natasha admired your fucked out face briefly before turning your whimpers into loud moans as she wrapped her lips around your clit, and sucked harshly as she suddenly filled you with three of her skilled fingers, that now curled delicately into your g-spot with every thrust.

Tears streamed down your temples, matting your hair to your face, and seeping into the cushions of your couch. You came with a yelp this time, cum absolutely drenching the couch and leaving Natasha in awe. You however were hardly able to breathe, or see as the tears made your sight bleary. This was when your hands flew into her hair, tangling up in the locks as you used all your remaining strength to pull her up to your lips in a redirecting manner.

Natasha kissed you sloppily, her fingers now coming to a stop as she understood your silent pleas. Slowly, after distracting you with a swirl of her tongue around yours, she pulled out. You whined lowly at the loss, but your body appreciatively deflated into the cushions, and while you worked to calm down she began to kiss all over your skin in a calm, soothing way.

"We should go get you cleaned up lyubov'," she murmured against the skin of your neck that she'd been nibbling, your breathing had finally returned to an evened rhythm. "No, please."

Natasha pulled back to look you over, she was shocked to see your eyes desperate for more.

"Are you sure detka?" You frantically nodded, "Yes, fuck, I want you to fill me so bad daddy."

Natasha pressed her lips to yours, and slid her throbbing member into your slick cunt without a hitch. Neither of you were going to last long, and truthfully neither of you needed to. There was already stars where the ceiling once was as your lover pounded into your sloshing cunt.

"Gonna fill you to the brim detka," she moaned against the shell of your ear. "Can't wait to see your beautiful belly grow with my baby again."

Her breaths were hot as they fanned across your twice as hot skin. Every grunt she released brought with it a reactive clench of your walls, and it drove the woman atop of you insane.

Natasha came with a silent scream, her load unleashing havoc on your abused walls, you were a moaning mess as she slammed into your g-spot repeatedly as she chased this glorious high, milking it for all it's worth and herself as well in the process. When she came to a stop, and pulled out of you she gasped.

The amount of cum that oozed out of you was jarring at first inspection. Natasha had never released this much in her life, she's almost certain it's impossible for that much to exist inside a person at once but she just rationalized it as a delayed release for the year without sex.

There was no way you wouldn't get pregnant.

Especially not after Natasha thrusted back inside of you, mumbling something about preserving the chance that made you chuckle.

"Are you prepared for a third baby?" You teased your wife, with a hand mindlessly running through her hair as she laid with her face pressed against your chest. "I once told you detka, I'd make you my breeding bitch."

You cackled, chest shaking beneath her head to the point that she had to lift up and narrow her eyes at you. "I'm not sure why that's funny, but yes, I'm prepared for whatever life brings. With you by my side I'd willingly raise a dozen kids."

Natasha smirked when your humor died away, eyes wide with fear until she finally took over laughing for you. "God, you looked so scared."

You scoffed, "I was. That's a lot of c-sections." Natasha pursed her lips in thought, then she shrugged her shoulders. "Not if we have twins."

"We'll leave the twins to Maximoff," you soon decided over a yawn. "I think two more is fine."

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips. "Two more sounds perfect. A simple family of six."

"There's nothing simple about you Natasha."

"Yet you love me anyways." You could hear the insecurity in her tease, and it hurt your heart to think someone ever made her feel unlovable. "That I do." You gently guided her lips to yours, kissing her slowly before you guided her face back to the crook of your neck. "Very much."

Neither of you spoke another word, you just laid there soaking in the warmth of your love before slipping off into a restful nights sleep.

The first in a long time actually, and the last genuine one before Raven and Leo arrived. 

——

6,389 Words

Nat's former job: Acting / Y/N's: Stripping

Nat's current job: Breeder / Y/N's: To be Bred

❤️ Kaitlyn. 🤭

[iamthat-iam]

after reading through your posts and other non-dualism blogs i realised that when i was in loa, i struggled so much to manifest as i kept seeking validation from the 3D more than my imagination as i kept relying on my human body, the 5 sense for validation. if i didn't see it in the 3D/ experience it with my 5 senses i would automatically be like "oh i don't see it" then i either continue affirming and persisting or do SATS fulfilling my inner man, or other loa methods. and the cycle repeats again. it's like i know the knowledge i know exactly how to apply but due to the fact that i couldn't stop relying on my human senses to determine what is "real" and what is not. it's so automatic and that's the reason why i was stuck in the cycle and i couldn't get out or actually persist for goodness sake as some point in time id be like "okay this is not working ill try something else" then came the void obsession. i would try so many methods just to get into the void and manifest my desires. affirm, persist, fulfill the inner man, seek validation from my 5 senses and then start all over again and it never stops. everyone keeps saying that the 3D and the 4D are separate which made it even worse as it would be EVEN HARDER to actually see my desires as mine when the physical senses are showing the opposite. no one denies that the physical sense are fake. we are taught that we have every right to feel whatever we want to feel and that our human body is real etc.

then when i left loa and stepped into the non-duality community. it started making so much more sense. everything is an illusion, nothing is real. everything is consciousness/imagination. my trauma, my name, age, height gender etc. NONE OF IT IS REAL. the only thing that is "real" is awareness. even my 5 sense aren't real. so why would i have to rely on it? seek validation from it? i no longer have to "work" to get it in the human experience. NO. there's no affirming to "get" something. there is no "desire". there is no "manifestation". there is no "human body/self/ego/senses" ALL OF IT IS IMAGINARY. self doesn't desire. self has everything. self IS EVERYTHING. there is no "3D" no "4D". these concepts do NOT exist. they are made up and are an illusion. is doesn't make sense to call yourself limitless and then limit yourself to methods, affirm/persist, laws, etc. THERE ARE NO RULES. there is no such thing as "if you don't fulfill yourself, you won't get your desires". desires are from the human ego, the human body-mind has desires. SELF DOES NOT HAVE DESIRES. it doesn't make sense for self to desire when self is everything.

the 5 sense aren't real, never were, never will be. the moment we imagine something it INSTANTLY exists. the reason why we do not "see" is because we identify with the false self/ego hence thinking that it's not real. i remember i saw a non-dualism ig account say this before @infinite.ko.

"You can instantly experience a reality without your 5 senses, only by observing it, if you constantly limit yourself to 5 senses, you will identify with the Body-Mind and go down the "Why isn't it here yet" hole"

the concept of manifestation does not exist. it doesn't make sense. you claim to have all of your "desires" then why do you look else where to search and search for it when it has been within YOU all along? you job was never to affirm 10k times, repeat to saturate your subconscious mind, get into the void to "manifest" or "materialise" your "desires". why would you work so hard to "get" something when all you had to do was realise that it was within YOU the whole time? "manifest", "materialise" only exist because you think that there is a 3D reality for them to show up in. when the truth is, there was no "3D" or "4D" in the first place. there is no imagination VS reality. nothing is real, it has always been illusion VS illusion. your only and ONLY job ever is to simply just OBSERVE. just sit back and watch.

YOU ARE NOT YOUR:

thoughts

feelings

emotions

body

mind

5 senses

YOU ARE AWARENESS ONLY

if you want something simply observe it. imagine it. that's it. once you imagined it you already experienced it. as the observer and awareness you are not even supposed to put in the bare effort to get anything. NOT EVEN AN OUNCE OF IT. why on earth would you want to experience it with the physical senses when you are just the observer and you can experience it by just observing? the physical senses are an illusion. "manifestation" was supposed to be effortless and easy, but the idea of our "thoughts" and "states" manifest and we are supposed to change them is just TOO MUCH. there is nothing to change just observe/imagine/be aware.

if anytime you get thoughts like "why is it not here" "why don't i see it" "why hasn't it manifested yet" you are immediately identifying with your human self. as your true self/ nature would NEVER think/ even say such things. it would simply OBSERVE.

credits to all the non-dualism blogs out there, i couldn't thank you enough for teaching us this. thank you <333

@msperfect777 @lains-reality @consciousnessbaddie @awarenessis @luvcompass @infinite.ko (on ig)

That is so true!! Relying on the human senses will always be our downfall, we can affirm and persist, apply states, do SATS, script, or any method we want, but if we can't accept that it's DONE ALREADY, then it's all for nothing! It really is a vicious cycle.

I'm also guilty of jumping from method to method, I got the most "results" from affirming and persisting, but I wasn't "getting" my "big" manifestations, so I switched to states, which did nothing but stress me out 😂 with the 3D and 4D being separate, fulfilling the "inner man" like it's too much.

Non dualism has given me all the clarity and peace I had been searching for since 2019 when I found law of attraction. I am so happy that myself and other bloggers were able to help you on your journey as well 🥹🫶🏾 I am so happy that you are now in a better place and are out of the cycle of trying to "manifest" and "get things". Such a stressful way to live.

[genericpuff]

The Mishandling of LO’s S3 Mi(n)season Hiatus - Part 3 1/2

Here we go, Part 3 of my analysis of the current FP episodes - a three-parter episode set leading up to the midseason finale of LO.

Part 1

Part 2

Truth is, I had actually forgotten a lot of the weird (and very stupid) shit that happened in this episode, that I thought Episodes 251 and 252 had already offered up the worst that this three parter set could dish out. Boy, was I wrong, because when I went back to check out Episode 253, I was reminded of a reality that my brain had wiped out in an attempt to protect my withering psyche-

I also forgot just how long this episode is. It's so long that I frankly can't even fit it all into this post, so this is gonna be part 3 1/2.

Anyways, let's just get on with it. This is the final stop on our trip into absolute nonsense.

CAUTION: THIS IS PART 3 OF A 3 PART SERIES IN WHICH I WILL BE SPOILING MUCH OF EPISODES 251-253. THIS WILL BE A LONG POST. BRACE YOURSELF.

Well, it's the midseason finale, and what better way to open it up than with the final title card-

Typo and all. It wouldn't be an LO episode without one. Granted, IIRC this typo has been edited out, but the version of the screenshots I have from it feature it in all its original unedited glory. So enjoy that.

And yes, just like the last two times, the title itself only applies to the final cliffhanger, which is an absolute doozy especially for those who were there to experience it in real time.

This is already a bit of a wild opening compared to the last two episodes, but it's quickly revealed that this is laying the foundation for the prophecy that Psyche gave to Apollo back in Episode 252. In true LO fashion, the story can't actually be linear in any regard, we're always segmented from pieces of information at a time. Loyal fans will call this a "writing style", I call it Rachel just trying to get another 70 cents out of me.

That said, I will say the art here is fairly decent, but I think that just goes to show that LO's one of worst features these days - ironically enough - is its coloring. What began as its strongest feature has now become one of its biggest weaknesses due to the sheer laziness in its rendering and the colors become more and more saturated into the grotesque over time. So at this point, you pretty much have to rob these characters of their colors to make them look decent, and of course at that point it just further highlights Rachel's same-face problems. She definitely tried to make them look distinguishable here, at least, with Hestia and Poseidon being the most unique.

Now, this isn't the first time that we've heard of this herb being referenced - it was stated by Hades that Hera was the one to originally poison Kronos with the herb after gaining his trust - but to see it suddenly just pop up and play a role again out of nowhere already gives me a bad feeling in my stomach. It feels like yet another plot device - especially when presented in this type of format - that Rachel is suddenly using to try and seem "unique" in her writing, much like the strange narration we got back during the "Run For Your Life" sequence. It's just once again LO lacking any specific identity, it's always trying to be a million other things at once.

I will say, much of this in and of itself is panel filler. Why? Because the location of the herb doesn't matter. You'll see what I mean in a moment, but the mentioning of Anthedon plays no role here, it's just yet another obligatory "see, I know how to Google things!" lip service moment from Rachel "self-proclaimed folklorist" Smythe.

Anyways, Eros is perplexed by this but Psyche immediately catches on, knowing right away that Apollo is going for Zeus. And this is where we get yet another one of the dumbest sequences in this comic.

(see what I mean that the location of the herb doesn't matter? Because Apollo already got it and laced it into the cupcake).

Now, first of all, the fact that Eros and Psyche believe Kassandra's prophecy is already hilarious in and of itself, because ... well, because it literally defeats the point of her establishing it as a curse in the previous episode. Unless it only works on mortals? It never stated as such, so we literally just have to go with it and pretend not to notice that.

But most of all, of course LO had to play this off as some joke. Like, "hahaha how awkward! I've already eaten the cupcake!" and he still doesn't seem to really be in shock. Zeus has seen what this herb has done to gods before him, and yet his reaction to this is akin to a dad getting upset that he stepped LEGO's that he asked his kid 20 times to pick up off the floor. The whole "record scratch" style formatting of this followed by Zeus' lack of reaction just really makes me not care about any of this, because clearly the story doesn't care either.

But we don't see who he makes these calls to because the comic, of course, can't spend any longer than 10 panels on a single scene, so we cut to Hades and Persephone.

Again, I don't know what the point was of having Hera relay this information to Persephone for her to relay to Hades, aside from the fact that Rachel needed to act smart with Therapy Speak that didn't even apply to Hera's situation (as we talked about in the last part). They gotta make Persephone the center of everyone's world though, so it's Persephone who's delivering this info and trying to come up with the solution.

Hades, though, wants to focus on his wife's birthday the commemoration of spring.

SIR. THE WOMAN YOU WERE IN AN AFFAIR WITH SINCE BEFORE YOUR WIFE WAS BORN IS CURRENTLY GRAPPLING WITH YOUR FATHER WHO ABUSED HER AND IS NOW HAUNTING HER. THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR FLUFFY ROMANCE TIME. THERE IS A CHILD BEING HELD CAPTIVE IN TARTARUS AND LITERALLY NO ONE SEEMS TO CARE.

Anyways, apparently (for some reason) Hades is the one who has to go meet Demeter out front. Even though Hades has literally NOTHING to do with this ceremony, it's not his domain, but Persephone literally says "yep, that's correct" when he asks if he needs to go out to meet Demeter.

This just feels like such a pointless conversation and I don't get what the point of this exact exchange is. Again, this isn't Hades' domain, so I don't see why he needs to be the one to go meet with Demeter.

But then, of course, to make matters worse, this man has the absolute audacity to pretend like he's never done anything wrong to Demeter. As if she should be obligated to be cool with sharing a bench with this man who literally terrorized her for years and then essentially groomed her daughter.

I hate him so fucking much and I can't believe we're supposed to be rooting for him. He has not undergone ANY of the character development necessary for me to want to care about him.

Anyways, Hades has a seat with Demeter, and the conversation is very brief before Hades says that he has a gift for her. And what is it, exactly?

Oh great, Hades. Sure wish you would have had this consideration hundreds of years ago. I fail to see what good this does for her now because it doesn't change the fact that he still cost her the role of Queen of the Mortal Realm and treated her like shit for hundreds of years. This comes across as such a shallow and empty "apology" because it's barely even a "gift", rather something she was OWED back then that he didn't want to hand over for his own selfish reasons. He still comes out the winner here because he's gotten to spend thousands of years being a rich slave-driving oligarch while Demeter has had to maintain the Mortal Realm on her own even without the glory of having a title.

I especially detest this "twist" because it's less of a twist and Rachel finally accepting the fact she couldn't come up with anything better than what her fans had to come up with for her. If this had been the fact the whole time, we would have seen it established back when we first got those flashbacks showing Hades being a total prick to her over the volcanoes. Instead, Rachel dragged it out for weeks and weeks until finally dumping this "twist" that her fans had been talking about all that time. This is yet another one of those "Rachel used her fanbase to come up with her ideas" moments. I know that that seems a little mean and presumptuous, but the fact of the matter is that the writing in this story is such an absolute mess that you just know Rachel's writing by the seat of her pants and has to rely on her audience's headcanons to actually fill in the gaps of her story. Most of the time when people commend her for the "great storytelling" in LO, what they're referring to are things they came up with entirely on their own because of how easy it is to just make assumptions about LO's storyline. Rachel benefits off the story being as vague as possible because then her fanbase will fill in the gaps with their own assumptions and give her all the credit for an idea they came up with.

By the way, to the "self-proclaimed folklorist" who wrote this, the volcanoes were really just entrances into the Underworld. Hades did not own them. They were owned by Hephaestus. And I would argue that the volcanoes were only seen as "entrances" into the Underworld because, fun fact - if you jump into a volcano, you die!

Hades frames his reasoning as feeling like Demeter was pushing him out of the Mortal Realm, but this makes no sense because none of that is on her. He claims that he felt like an "outsider" but the reality is that he made himself that way. He resigned himself to being King of the Underworld, he ate the pomegranate and made the deal with Erebus, and even he stated that he could still actually leave the Underworld, just not for long periods of time. So he was the only one keeping himself away from the Mortal Realm, not Demeter. We even see that in the VHS tape flashbacks where Hades stumbles onto Demeter's property and she lets him sleep it off in her home. So this whole sob story about how he felt "pushed out" by Demeter is such a bad take from someone who's routinely known to make himself out to be the victim. Because Hades can't have an actual reputation for a reason, no, this is a "retelling" told by someone who got all their Greek myth info off Tumblr circa 2016 and the front page of Google, so Hades has to be the misunderstood uwu sad underdog. Even though he routinely does things that reinforce the reputation he has within the comic, like being a slave driver, abusing lower class nymphs, and grooming teenagers.

Minthe showing up for a split second in the background is the best this comic has been since S2. We stan our girl Minthe, fucking run girl, do what Persephone couldn't do. She's the real hero of this story (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

And honestly, I'm sorry, but Demeter really SHOULDN'T be taking the high ground on this. She has more than enough reason to be upset. For a comic that tries to celebrate feminism and holding abusive men accountable, it sure is willing to make the women - often victims of the men - the real villains who have to "do better". Except for Persephone of course. Persephone is married into the system now, she doesn't have to "do better", she's a "boss babe" for being abusive and petty and undeserving of her status because she's the self-insert Y/N character.

So the ceremony for commencing Spring begins. I gotta say, for the final major scene of the mi(n)season finale, the art is severely underwhelming. You can really tell the difference between S3 and S1 art here, there's barely anything extra done to make this scene even half as impactful as the most basic of scenes from S1.

Like, it's fine, but it still feels so half-baked and rushed to attempt to replicate the kind of art that's been gone from the series for years now. The full sequence itself is actually quite lengthy, with a lot of nymph hands just moving around and playing instruments, but it's about as bland as any other panel, so it makes the sequence itself feel dragged out and boring.

This is about as pretty as the sequence gets and it's still not even as good as the original Dread Queen transformation. There's barely any rendering in the skin, and they couldn't even be bothered to make the hands look normal. It's like it's trying so hard to be "original LO" but is fundamentally missing the point of what made the original LO so captivating.

But oh noooo, looks like Persephone did a bad!

Are they actually gonna give her some kind of flaw? Are we gonna FINALLY gonna find out what she traded to Erebus?

No. We're just gonna make her the cause of winter.

Spaghettios.

And that's where I'm leaving this review for now because, as mentioned in the beginning, this episode is a LOT longer than I remember it being. There's still a whole ass segment with Apollo that we need to cover and I don't want to leave it out but I also don't want to do it entirely in text format and I've hit that pesky image limit. So I'll be posting that second part as soon as I can!

That said, I really can't stand this "subversion" by making Persephone the reason for winter.

First of all, because this is a common problem in a lot of H x P "retellings", as many of them fundamentally miss the point of why Persephone is the "Goddess of Spring".

Persephone was not born the "Goddess of Spring". She was born Kore (Κόρη), a maiden born from Demeter. It wasn't until after she was taken by Hades that Demeter, in her grief, took away the harvest and created winter. It was the return of Persephone every six months that brought about the spring, hence, she earned the name, "Goddess of Spring". What these retellings COMPLETELY MISUNDERSTAND is that the gods aren't 'born' with their titles, they're granted these titles by the mortals who comprehend them and write of them as harbingers of their respective elements, stories, and messages. Zeus wasn't "born" the God of the Sky and Heavens, he was granted that title after he overthrew Kronos and took the Heavens for himself. Hades wasn't "born" the God of the Underworld and the Dead, he was granted that title after he became the ruler of the domain of death.

Where these retellings really fuck up is constantly trying to "subvert" the H x P myth in an attempt to romanticize it, thus undoing the point of why Persephone is called "The Goddess of Spring". A Touch of Darkness also made this mistake by putting a "twist" on Persephone's character by having her start out as someone who couldn't make things grow. But if she sucks at making things grow, then why is she still referred to as The Goddess of Spring? In LO, Hades is referred to as "Grandpa Winter" and the seasons already seem to exist as we saw in this episode through the ceremony, so why has she been called "The Goddess of Spring" this whole time?

But I also can't stand this "subversion" because it fundamentally misunderstands the very myth it's trying to "retell". By giving Persephone the "curse" of creating winter, it further robs Demeter of her own agency in this story, more than it already has. It wasn't enough to make Demeter a helicopter mom, it wasn't enough to drive an actual rift between her and her daughter, they had to take away Demeter's entire role in the story and the creation of the seasons and give it to Persephone.

And this is, surprisingly enough, NOT the first time the comic has done this. There are many traits associated with different gods that have been given to Persephone and Hades. The volcanoes belong to Hades rather than Hephaestus, Persephone is "more beautiful than Aphrodite", Thanatos' and Psyche's butterfly symbolism is given to both Hades and Persephone, Aphrodite's symbolism of roses is given to Persephone, the list goes on. Every single plotline has to involve Persephone as the hero, and every single attribute that's commonly associated with other gods has to be granted to H x P in some way to make them better and more interesting than every other cast member in the comic, and yet they still come across as vapid and boring protagonists with nothing to show for themselves.

So to give the ONE thing from the source material that made LO what it is, it comes across as so unbearably cruel.

But then again, we should have seen this coming. After all, Rachel does not cite this as a retelling of The Hymn to Demeter. She simply refers to it as its more unofficial name: The Taking of Persephone.

Look, I get it, the story is meant to be told from Persephone's POV (or at least through the lens of her being the main character) so I can understand why Rachel may have chosen to reword this to make it more clear. But it's really depressing that she went to such an extent with making it about Persephone that she had to rob one of the most integral character of her moment and retribution. Especially when one of the only books in her cited "research" that's primarily about Persephone is, shocked, The Hymn to Demeter, which is listed at the very bottom of every "research" list you can find in LO's history.

LO should have just stayed as self-indulgent fluff. This isn't "subversion", this isn't a "twist", it's just yet another item on the list of making Persephone the most Important One of all. Even when it attempts to be a 'flaw', it fails tremendously by acting as yet another aspect of her being a Mary Sue, because her 'flaw' has come at the cost of another character's story, identity, and strengths. What was originally a tale of grief, retribution, and standing up against a patriarchal system, has now been warped into a consequence of a muddied plot that doesn't have anywhere left to go. For a story that claims to be "feminist", it has ironically missed the original point of its source material entirely, and completely robbed itself of the feminine strength it could have had if it hadn't tried to be "subversive".

I don't really have anything much more to say than that. I could leave it here for good, but we do still have that extra segment to talk about that covers the actual final cliffhanger in this episode, so... we'll see you on the other side.

[theliteraryarchitect]

Hi! I wanted to say, I read that you are a professional editor, and think it's amazing! You also give very logical and well explained advice. I was wondering; would you say being an editor is a job you can support yourself with? I actually aspire to become one someday, but I'm not exactly sure if it's a good plan.

Thank you for your time, and I hope you have a good day/night

Hey there. Great question. It's totally possible to support yourself as an editor. I've done it, and so have other editors I know. However there are a few important things to consider before choosing editing as a career path.

Your chances of being a self-employed freelancer are extremely high. The number of in-house editing jobs in publishing are low and getting lower. While being self employed can give you a certain amount of flexibility, it also comes along with a lot of hustle and hassle, namely fluctuating income, a stupid amount of confusing tax paperwork, and the need to constantly promote yourself to clients in order to maintain steady work.

You probably won't make as much money as you'd think. Editing is one of the many skilled jobs that suffers from market saturation, which has sadly driven down the price the average client is willing to pay for editing services. I can't tell you the number of overqualified editors I know charging barely more than minimum wage for their work. Personally I've stuck to my guns about charging what I'm worth, but I've sometimes suffered by not having as much work as my colleagues who charge less.

Robots have already chipped away at the future of editing as a human occupation, and will continue to do so at exponential speed in the years ahead. They will never obliterate the job completely, as there will always be humans who prefer to work with humans instead of machines. But the outlook will become ever bleaker as more humans compete for fewer gigs, which in turn will drive down prices even further.

If you are also a writer, editing may adversely affect your writing. I don't mean that you'll become a worse writer, quite the opposite. My editing work has brought new depths to my writing, and I'm grateful for all I've learned by working with my clients. However, editing takes time, uses creative energy, and requires staring at a screen (or paper), and personally the more I edit, the less time/creativity/screen-staring capabilities I have left for my own writing.

If you mention you're an editor, someone will troll your post for a typo, grammatical error, or misused word, and then triumphantly point it out to you in the comments. This is mostly a joke. But it does happen every single time.

I hope this hasn't been too discouraging. If you feel a true passion for editing and really enjoy the work, none of the above should dissuade you. However, if you think you might be happy in any number of occupations, I'd honestly advise you to explore other options. Choosing a career path at this point in history is a gamble no matter what, but the outlook for editors is especially grim.

If you'd like to work with writers and aren't attached to being an editor, there are a few jobs (still freelance) that I believe will survive the coming robot apocalypse. Do a little Google research about "book coaches," "writing coaches," or "book doulas." These are people who act primarily as emotional supporters and logistical helpers for writers who are trying to get their book published or self published. Some of them do actual editing, but many do not, and due to the therapeutic nature of their work I believe they will flourish longer than editors in the coming robot apocalypse.

If you do explore editing as a path, the further away you can lean from spelling and grammar (e.g. proofreader or copyeditor), the longer your skills will be useful when competing with robots. AI still struggles to offer the same kind of nuanced, story-level feedback that a human can give. (Speaking from experience here--I'm a developmental editor and have yet to see a dent in my workload because of robots.) They'll catch up eventually, but it could be a while, and as long as there are human readers, there will always be humans who are willing to pay for a human perspective on their writing. Human spell checkers maybe not so much.

Hope this helps!

[buglaur]

tutorial contents:

1 ‣ gshade & photoshop actions 2 ‣ template or cropping & colouring 3 ‣ notifs & pop-ups

okay hi! i have a really old editing tutorial from back in january that i've been linking people to, but it's pretty outdated by now. i also keep getting anons asking about the same things, which is fine, but i always have to go searching for the post explaining it, so having it all in one place will be a lot more convenient lol

i use a ☠ copy of photoshop cc 2017 to edit my screenshots, however the majority of everything i'm doing also works on photopea

photopea is an online version of photoshop that's 100% free and works very well! i can't recommend it enough, it's fantastic

first things first, you're going to need some screenshots to edit. for the sake of this tutorial i'll be working with this one of raffy:

in all honesty, gshade will do most of the work for you. of course it's not needed, but i definitely don't think i could live without it! in this screenshot i used sunset n' vinyl by nesurii

when opening the screenshot, the first thing i do is run it through 2 photoshop actions:

butter action by early-grape

smooth sharp (no topaz) by poolbrop

to add actions in photoshop go:

windows > actions > the 4 lines at the upper right corner of the newly opened window > load actions > your downloads folder > open up the .atn files!

if you're using photopea, as far as i'm aware you can't use photoshop actions, but i've found that 'filter > stylize > oil paint' and 'filter > sharpen > smart sharpen' have a very similar effect when using the right settings. try these:

i like these two actions because they smooth everything out nicely, but keep it sharp at the same time! i always run butter before i run smooth sharp, however butter may leave you with 2 layers. make sure to merge these layers before running smooth sharp to achieve the full effect.

here's a before and after (of the photoshop action):

from here you can move on to step 2

before anything else i want to share the template that i use to make editing a lot faster. you don't need to use it but it's definitely made things a lot easier for me! it's a .psd file and will work perfectly in photopea

download (simfileshare)

if you're using the template you can skip right on to the next section, as it's already cropped to the right size and has the colouring folder included. just drag your screenshot into it and resize to fit the height.

if you're not using it, crop your edited screenshot to:

1707 width x 1280 height

then adjust the colours to your liking. it always varies slightly depending on the picture but my regular process for each screenshot would be:

up the saturation by 8%

up the lightness by 3%

up the contrast by 12%

all of this can be done by looking in the 'images > adjustments' tab

you should end up with something similar to this!

if you want to add a moodlet or social interaction or anything similar, it's all the same process. what you'll need is a screenshot of it straight from the game. i just press the 'c' key to capture them! i'll be working with these two:

for the blue notification i'm going to select it using the box select tool. try to get it as exact as possible. one you have it selected

for photoshop users:

click on the 'select and mask...' option located at the top

adjust the global refinements at the side as follows:

smooth: 70 feather: 0.0px contrast: 50% shift edge: 0%

for photopea users:

go to select > modify > smooth

set it to 15

select 'ok' and press 'ctrl + c' to copy it, then 'ctrl + v' to paste it into your screenshot. adjust the size and position and you should end up with something like this:

next you want to add the transparent border around the notification. if you're using my editing template, right click on the reference notif in the layers tab and select 'copy layer style' (photopea > 'layer style > copy'). from there you can paste that layer style onto your own notif through the layers tab.

if you're not using the template, here's how to set it up on photoshop:

right click your notification layer and select 'blending options'

under styles, tick the checkboxes for stroke and drop shadow

input these settings:

on photopea, it should be more or less the same. repeat the exact same process with the social menu option, but instead of selecting it with the box select tool, use the magic select tool. in the end you should end out with this!

from here you're finished! thanks for reading! go to file and export as png

if you've got questions never hesitate to ask, just make sure to read the faq in my pinned. i might edit this post soon to include the gen intro traits and aspirations bit, but this is all for now. hope it helps, my editing process post has been in need of a revamp for a very long time. i haven't proof-read this so apologies for any mistakes!

[thesargasmicgoddess]

I've been meaning to ask this question but never have. The quality of your photos is just amazing; not simply in the subject (the beautiful and stunning you) but the image quality, the lighting, and the colours.

My question is what do you use to take these photos? Is it a digital SLR, a phone app in particular you'd recommend, etc. And do you ever use post production to improve contrast, crop the frame, blur backgrounds, etc?

I mainly would like to say that I'm always seriously impressed with what you post here, and thanks!

Aww thank you!

I just use my phone. I find that the cameras on phones are such amazing quality nowadays, it's sufficient for what I need it for. Currently, I have a Galaxy S23 Ultra (sorry iPhone peeps, I'm an android girl 🤣🤷🏻‍♀️) and I just use the camera, no app.

We do have a few digital professional cameras, but my husband just likes to use those for landscape photos 🤣🏔🌄🏞

I have a pretty specific style and I think post-production is GOLD--but I don't mean filters and beautifying effects. I'm a stickler about framing, lighting, background (it makes me crazy to have a cluttered background), sharpness, and saturation. If it's b&w, then I tend to prefer high contrast. Shadow and light are just amazing props.

And the context. The story. The authenticity of the photo. That's all super important to me too.

I think attitude is important. I don't shoot unless I feel inspiration. I actually used to shoot a lot more, but since life has been very busy, I don't force it. I do it when it makes me happy or if an idea really needs to be played out to satisfy my curiosity/creativity.

There's currently a beautifully edited shot that I'm mulling over posting for Halloween. It's full nudity, which I dont post much at all. But I usually will post full nudity when I just think the photo is stunning.....so we shall see 🤔

I sometimes wish I had a camera person because some shoots are just hard to frame and execute by yourself.

Here's an example of one of my favorite sets. The framing, lighting, background...just a favorite all around.

[peachdues]

VIOLENT DELIGHTS — TEASER

Tengen’s Tell Me to Stop

A/N: because the more shitty anons bitch about my teasers, the more I’m gonna post because I don’t give a fuck.

Tengen’s installment of my Tell Me to Stop series. A true enemies-to-lovers fic. Read the spicy teaser here.

CW: blood • description of whipping • some angst • Tengen is confused by his own actions here

Ty always to my biggest enabler @marenalee . This fic is dedicated to you bby.

Tengen paled as he watched the villagers wrench the hood off the person struggling against their restraints.

Rough hands shoved Y/N to her knees, hair mussed, eyes wild and murderous as she glowered at her captors. Rope had been tied around her mouth, forcing her teeth to part around its coarse fibers. If he squinted, he could see the way the rope had rubbed the corners of her mouth bloody and raw.

The assassin thrashed against the hold of her captors as they secured thick, iron shackles around her wrists, each one connected to a separate piece of scaffolding that forced her into an awkward, half-star position on her knees. A sour-faced man stepped out from the shadows behind the stage to glare down at her, his puffy, fish-like lips twisted into a disgusted sneer as he spoke. An audience had gathered at the base of the stage, and Tengen felt his gut twist at the excited buzz which rose over them.

Whatever was to come, it was nothing good.

His suspicions were confirmed when he watched the Magistrate turn his head and bark at one of the grim-faced men standing off to the side of the podium. A moment later, and a grubby hand pressed something long and coiled into the Judge’s outstretched and waiting palm.

Tengen recognized what it was at precisely the same moment as the assassin — his nemesis — though he was certain the dread filling his gut was but a fraction of that which filled hers.

In all the months of tormenting her — of even trying to kill her — Tengen had never seen Y/N look afraid. Surprised, sure, but never frightened.

Yet, as the long, cruel tail of the whip unfurled in the Magistrate’s hands, curling down to the wooden slats of the podium, he saw the fear enter her widened eyes — deep and primal.

She was terrified.

(…)

—

The crack of the whip was capped by an ear piercing scream that made Tengen’s blood curdle.

Spring had always been his favorite season; winter was drab and monotonous and summer was too damn hot to appreciate anything, but spring — spring was resplendent with color and life and all things vibrant and exciting.

This village had been awash in springtime’s splendor. The cherry blossoms had bloomed, coating the sloped roofs of houses and restaurants in a soft blanket of pink and white. The streets had been lined with attractive stalls, offering an assortment of food and jewelry and hand sewn silk garments in every hue imaginable, guaranteed to allow even the pickiest shopper to find something suited to their tastes.

But now, all the sounds and smells and sights and warmth had fallen away; now, all the pastels and greens and effervescence of spring had melted into something dull and gray and muted.

Tengen could only see red.

Red was the color of her blood as it dripped from end of the curled, thin length of rope and soaked into the wooden planks of the post.

Red was the color of her flesh, hanging in torn, bloodied ribbons as each lash flayed her open more and more.

Red was the color of Tengen’s fury, hot and vitriolic, saturating everything in his line of vision until the once reverent sights of the village around him faded to amorphous, crimson blurs as he moved.

Red was the color staining his hands as he threw the whip to the side, having wrenched it free from the magistrate’s cruel hands before he’d thought the better of it; and red was the color that now sprout from the magistrate’s nose as he crashed against the blood-soaked slats of the whipping post, bubbling over his swollen lips as he sputtered at the formidable man standing above him.

“If you would like to avoid taking her place, then I suggest you disperse this crowd,” Tengen said coldly. “And do not try and interfere.”

He held the stammering Magistrate’s petrified stare for a moment longer before he turned his attention to his target. Cautiously, the Sound Pillar approached the half-conscious assassin where she’d been partially stripped and chained to the wooden whipping post. Tengen fought to keep the bile in his throat from rising at the way the wooden slats under his feet squished, so heavily saturated with blood from both his enemy and the poor souls which had been subjected to the brutality of the whip before her.

Her head hung limply between her shoulders, bent toward the floor of the post, and her body slumped against the stage. Her arms, however, remained awkwardly stretched out before her thanks to the iron manacles nailed into the post’s scaffolding. Grimly, the Sound Pillar noted that the gallows were to ensure the penalized would be held up and open even well after their body succumbed to the pain of their lashings; a crude display of utter helplessness and submission to the whip.

He said her name, once, and though she moaned faintly under the pull of her restraints as they stretched the ruined skin of her back, she did not stir.

The full horror of her suffering slammed into him as Tengen ran his eyes over her swaying, whimpering form once more. Before he could think the better of it, before his brain could scream at him to stop, to leave her to a fate that was none of his business, the Sound Pillar unsheathed one of the great blades he kept strapped to his back. With a single, mighty stroke, he cleaved the iron chains of her bonds clean in half, and one by one, her arms fell limply to her side.

No longer held up by her forced prostration, Y/N began to fall forward face-first but Tengen caught her before she could make contact with the floor of the blood-soaked stage beneath her. Mindful of her wounds, he laid her limp form over his shoulder and hauled her up, his arms winding around her legs to keep her locked in place. Her arms dangled over his back. As he began to walk, he realized that the tips of her fingers just barely grazed the middle of his spine.

Small; she was so small in his arms. So helpless.

The crowd of townsfolk who had gathered to watch her flogging parted silently for the Sound Pillar as he descended the stairs of the whipping post, unconscious assassin draped over his shoulder, and departed the village without a word.

[madameriasims4]

Dani Denims RC in Old Money

I fell out of love with the original palette my Dani Denims came in about .02 seconds after posting them, and when @sforzcc posted Old Money, I knew I wanted to use their palette for a recolor. I've been putting it off for ever, but since Sforz posted their recolor of their Dream Jeans, I figured I'd jump on the wagon.*

BGC

Standalone

12 variants (3 leg types, 2 waist types, ripped and unripped)

Works with sforz's belt overlays** (Lotte Jeans) | (the last plank)

Download link below the cut!

I've said it before, but the original palette I used for the Dani Denims ended up being waaaay too saturated when paired with my ReShade presets. I am eternally thankful to sforz and their keen eye for color.

I also took the opportunity to try to improve on the normal map. The originals have a super crunchy map because, well, normal maps are still a mystery to me. I think a subtler touch is better, but then I feel like it doesn't make enough of a difference. But at least now the white swatch doesn't look like the moon!

Download (Patreon) Always free, no ads.

*are you tired of that DHD jeans texture yet?? not meeee

**I think it's hilarious that I'm referencing sforz's belt overlays, one of which is an edit of my overlay because they had the genius idea to make it work for fem-framed pants. I'm going to call this my first simblr collabTM lmao

[gigidragonbbxxx]

working with limits, a story

disclaimer: we are limitless. anything can be achieved with the power of the mind. this is to help people who overthink.

if a limit of yours shows up somewhere along the journey of manifesting a certain goal:

acknowledge it. do not repress. use it to pivot into your new story.

eg. I used think ____, but I know that's not true anymore. I am now ____.

my own story

my desired body is typically obtained in the gym with years of hard work and a dedicated focus on nutrition. I'm currently in grad school so I don't have time to workout like an IG influencer but I want to look like one.

Ordinary people would WEEP and stay in the same story of "its not obtainable!" while master manifesters smirk and say "LOL, ITS MY BODY NOWWWW"

I know that waking up with your perfect body is 100% POSSIBLE. Overnight subs/aff tapes + living in the end state + saturation to the max = fast asf results

so why wasn't I achieving it?

why was I manifesting money, attention, material things, etc. but for some reason my body was not changing?

I was meditating and doing some inner work when I realized that I had a serious weird rooted limited belief that

I had bad genetics and every woman in my family (both sides) have never achieved a flat tummy or a super toned body. So I was unconsciously always affirming that I could "never" look like that.

I thought great bodies could ONLY be achieved with hard work - which we know is soooooo untrue!

Instead of forcing myself to do a method I realized - I could work with my limit.

I was never truly "athletic" but I did run cross country/track in high school for 3 years. I fell off once I went to college and mostly did weird sporadic workouts but was never consistent.

Now that I've discovered the law and am freed from my old way of thinking, I said - okay let me play a little psychology game with myself, a little placebo.

my new placebo has been:

No matter what workout I do, the moment I step into the gym, I am losing my belly fat and getting super fast results every day.

Why do you do this Gigi instead of just sitting at home and affirming for your body?

Because I realized it would be easier for me to stay saturated/in the wish fulfilled/end state of having my perfect body just by physically forcing myself to be in a gym.

Let me clarify: I mostly walk on the treadmill, lift very very light weights, minimal sets, etc.

aka: most people would say I'm not doing enough.

But I'm a master manifester so I know that just deciding is enough.

I realized it was easier to visualize people saying "Wow she changed her body, it's because she goes to the gym now! She must've done a lot of work cause she got those results fast!" instead of "Wow she changed her body, idk how!"

Ever since I started going consistently and doing very bare minimum workouts - my body has changed way more drastically than normal limits allow.

I basically look like I've been working out for 6 months versus just the 2 I've actually been going.

My personal goal was fast results but gradual. If you want instant, please be my guest I am not limiting, I'm just sharing what worked for me.

I robotically affirm that lil placebo and it's changed my entire approach to manifesting.

I will see if I can post pictures of myself that will ensure privacy. Until then, just my words and encouragement.

Let me finish this lil post by saying: you do not need to do what I do. You can go ahead and do everything instantly. Everyone is different. I'm just sharing what worked for me, what helped me ease into being firm with what I wanted the 3D to reflect to me.

xx, gigi

[bludrogue]

Another Random Headcanon About Jason Todd

This is another weird experience I have had, but this is due to a personal experience. If I slam on my breaks too hard, witness a car accident in front of me, or bash the back of my head against the driver's seat (or any seat in the car for the matter), I tend to have the scent of burning oil fill my nostrils.

I don't know if that's normal, and sure, I'm projecting myself onto the headcanon, but I think it's an interesting experience. With that said, here's headcanon #3:

Headcanon #3: Phantosmia

-- Every time Jason has bashed his head against a hard surface, whether it be a wooden table, a brick wall, a lamp post, the concrete streets, a car door - honestly, the list is so long he can't even remember what he's smashed his head against -- the first sense to kick in was his olfactory.

-- Now he wouldn't care if this was just a physical response in general, but his nose always picks up on a scent that's never there. He's not entirely certain why his nose fills up with nonexistent fumes, this has been the case for as long as he can remember.

-- You'd think the scent of bourbon would remind him of Willis, the man always had one in his hand or in the cup holder of his arm chair. Jason can still recall the scent to this day - oak dipped in smoke, tinted in caramel, and saturated with vanilla. And as much as his mind can recognize the smell like he can recite a Shakespearen play off the back off his hand - that's not the scent his body would use to recall Willis.

-- No matter how many times Willis got close enough to burn his nostrils with his breath, it's never been the whiskey either.

-- Instead, it's fucking drywall.

-- Of all the scents in the world, it's fucking drywall. Because of course it is.

-- When he was a kid, it was this putrid scent of a heavy dose of rotten eggs nearing sulfur with a hint of chalk dust. And maybe those particular remnants are from a memory where Willis probably bashed his head hard enough into their shabby walls that he made a hole. Not that Jason remembers aside from the egregious smell - whether that's a side effect of the pit or straight up trauma, Jason is not would willingly attempt to recall any shared memories with his biological dad by choice.

-- If he could, he'd bury those memories deeper than when his body was trapped in the earth and surrounded by an ocean of soil.

-- But it's not just before being Robin.

-- During his time spent as Robin, if he hit his head hard enough, Scarecrow gave off a musty odor with a tinge of the world's worst garbage dumpster. Peguin, oddly enough, reeked of spoiled milk. And don't get him started on the Riddler -- that one he can't even describe with just words. (He weirdly gives off the scent of nail polish remover, do not ask him why.)

-- But the Joker?

-- The Joker's scent was nothing what he expected.

-- His sense of smell doesn't go toward the crisp and suffocating scent of smoke, the one that clogged his lungs so much that he wondered if that was the final straw to lead him marching towards death's door. Nor was it the smattering metallic smell emitted from the crowbar that bashed him over and over and over and - And his nose does not recall the Joker with the lead heavy scent of blood, no matter how much of his own spilled the day he died.

-- No, instead the monster carries the scent of fucking bubble gum.

-- Sweet, fruity, pink chewing gum.

-- Because of course the universe just has to ruin the little things, those simplicities of enjoyment. Like the birds chirping in the morning become screeching alarm clocks, his coffee mug always being chipped, a hole in his favorite pair of pants, just anything to ruin his day. He wonders whoever the fuck is in charge of mapping out his life is relishing in the misery he endures every fucking day. When he fucking gets his hands on -

-- Did you know it took him a solid year to even so much as spare a glance at a pack of the most basic, minty chewing gum again after his spent training with the League of Assassins? Did you know that it was until two years after his whole war between him and the bats he was finally able to even hold a stick in his palm without gagging? Did you know that only four years after all the bullshit he went through, he could finally place one stick of ice peppermint gum in his mouth for a solid ten minutes without throwing up immediately after?

-- He still can't handle the fruity flavor gum - no sour apple, no watermelon, no strawberry, no cinnamon, and especially no bubble gum flavored shit - without the dreadful urge to vomit lingering after.

-- And before Jason mended his relationship with the bats (or is still trying to, he has plenty of ups and downs with Bruce that he's getting dizzy from the ride.) Bruce's scent was ruined.

-- When he was Robin, Bruce carried the redolence of leather and a warm campfire. There was just something that screamed safety in his scent that he couldn't explain. The every time he woke up in the gurney from a concussion, the smell would hit before he would open his eyes and he knew Bruce was there.

-- But everything changed the night Bruce chose the Joker.

-- Bruce had hit his head hard enough against a porcelain toilet seat that his nose was bashed with the scent of leather instantly. He thought he had picked on his own jacket, but once the campfire wood wafted into the air he knew that was his designated scent for Bruce.

-- The emotional side was then crying for his dad, begging him to keep him safe from the monster in the closet, pleading to just let him come home, to choose him - his son - please - But the logical side was louder, especially when he aimed the gun at the Joker's head and gave Bruce a choice to make.

-- He had a job to complete and Bruce had a choice to make.

-- And Bruce decided and his scent was tainted.

-- Now, when there's a meeting held in the bat cave, or the only company he shares is with Bruce, he has to resist the urge to rub the scar on his neck to reassure himself he's not bleeding. To remind himself that his nose is just playing tricks to get himself to believe his throat is sliced open again.

-- But he never minded his olfactory any attention about these scents. Honestly, it was more subconscious than anything else, so why pay any attention to the matter? Plus, it wasn't like the matter was giving him any issues or disrupting his routine in any sort of way. He was still able to patrol and function to his usual capabilities -- which was not the standard, but still... functional.

-- And that meant had nothing to be concerned about. That these phantom scents had to be normal, right?

-- Maybe this was just another secret human function nobody spoke about. Kind of how the American education system fails to explain safety for sex because of the desire to keep a 'puritan' image.

-- But, as usual, he was proven wrong.

-- According to Tim, phantom smells were not a normal human function. Because, 'No, Jason. People do not have specific scents when you hit your head too hard,' and 'No, Jason. It is not common when you hit your head hard enough to smell a person or smell a nonexistent scent.' And blah, blah, blah.

-- He stopped paying attention after the third no.

-- But how did this conversation come about? Allow Jason to draw the scene for you:

-- Jason 'allowed' himself to be dragged to the manor by Bruce due to the severe concussion he received due to an Arkham breakout, followed by the orders of mandatory bed rest. And so, he was trapped under one roof with his siblings, who were piled into his room to force him to remain awake for the required hours necessary to be deemed safe from a coma.

-- He knew Dick was besides him, and the head massage he was receiving was not helpful in keeping him awake. But the others were somewhere in the room, he didn't need to open his eyes to know. He could tell by their scents.

-- The only person who wasn't in the room was Tim, who claimed he'd come right back without another word. (He's positive Tim went to go refill his coffee mug for the seventh time, and someone needs to get a handle on this kid's caffeine addiction.) But when Tim returned, he heavily smelled of apples - he always did when he was anxious.

-- Not that Jason usually minds if he hits his head, but this time the pounding was an incessant bitch who brought a drill to ram against his skull, so he couldn't handle the heavy scent at the time.

-- Jason immediately scrunched up his nose the moment Tim entered the room the moment he caught a waft of green apples. He rolled onto his side to have his back face the door, followed by a groan of, "Dude, Timbo, you fucking reek."

-- If Jason hits his head, sometimes he can practically smell Tim's potent and eternal state of anxiety. It's just as bad as Bruce's paranoia (but no one can ever beat that man in his levels of anxiety). However, when Tim is anxious, he carries the particular scent of green apples.

-- He hears Tim scoff, and there's a dip of weight at the corner of the bed. Jason lightly kicks Tim to shove him further away, only for the asshole to scoot closer.

-- "Hey, I took a mandatory after-patrol shower," Tim retorts, and he lifts his mug up to his lips and sips his coffee.

-- "No, you smell like fucking green apples," Jason hisses, burrowing his face into the pillow. If Tim gets any closer, his churning stomach might aim at Tim as his puke bucket. "You always do when you're fucking anxious about something, but Jesus fucking Christ, tone down the scent or, fuck, go sit in the arm chair."

-- "Green apples?" Dick mumbles, pausing in the movement of his hand. Jason almost whines at the loss of movement and he taps Dick's wrist. The moment Dick's hand continues those soothing circular movements, he relaxes.

-- What Jason doesn't see - or decides to blatantly ignore -- is the wide - eye stares everyone is glaring into his head. If Jason were to look, he would find a 'what the fuck' expression on each of their faces.

-- "Are you positive you're not smelling one of Tim's scented shampoos, tough guy?" Steph asks with curiosity lacing her tone. Tim has an array of scented shampoos and unscented ones -- the kid may be shit at self-care, but he certainly knows how to tend to his hair -- ranging from pomegranate to coconut to lavendar to oaky to vanilla, etc. (The list could go on.) But he certainly does not have a single apple scented shampoo.

-- "I'm positive," Jason replies. "He has a scent, you have a scent, everyone has a scent. Especially when I hit my head, it's normal."

-- People having individual scents is totally normal. He's positive of it. Plus, he's hit his head a multitude of times that the phantom scents kind of linger.

-- Tim taps the side of his coffee mug with his nails. "Jason... that's not- that's not normal."

-- Jason lifts his head from the pillow, the combination of scents burning his nostrils, but he ignores the hot twinge in favor of glaring at Tim. "It's fucking normal, Tim. I fucking experience it every time I hit my head."

-- "May I implore that none of your human experiences are what is considered 'normal', Todd?" Damian raises an eyebrow. He's settled on the ottoman by the end of the bed.

-- Jason opens his mouth to argue, but quickly clenches his jaw shut. As much as he hates to admit... the demon-brat has a point. Not that he needs to elaborate.

-- 'Is this a side effect from the lazarus pit?' Cas signs, tilting her head at a slight angle. Her eyebrows furrow together and the corner of lips curl - just as she always does when she's curious about a topic she doesn't understand.

-- "No." Jason whispers, keeping his tone gentle and crossing his arms over his chest. These phantom senses have always been around for him, even before the pit.

-- "So," Tim drawls, shifting the weight in the bed as he crosses his legs and holds his coffee mug. "When did this start?"

-- Jason narrows his gaze at Tim. "Fuck you, you're not my therapist."

-- Besides, he'll see his therapist next Wednesday, and he'll snitch on Bruce to his therapist. (And yes, his therapist is Harley.) He's not clinically insane - yet - but if this another 'Jason Todd anomaly', then why does he have phantom scents that hit his nose at random times? Especially when he hits his head?

-- "Wait, Lil' Wing," Dick pipes up, and Jason finds a cheeky grin on his face that warns Jason that Dick is about to ask a question he won't want to answer. "What do I smell like to you?"

-- "Yeah! I want to know too." Steph chimes in, resting her head in her hands as she places her elbows on the bed. There's a doe-eye look in her eyes that screams 'Pretty Please' as she flutters her lashes.

-- Heat crawls across Jason's face and spreads across his cheeks. He should have just kept his mouth shut, but he just had to go and whine about Tim reeking of fucking apples. It's not that he's embarrassed - not that he'd admit the truth out loud - but he's now more nervous than anything to reveal their scents. Especially now that he's more aware that having phantom scents isn't a typical human function.

-- Jason releases a breath, and decides to tell each one of them their identifying scent.

-- He has to admit, there are some positives to this phantom scents.

-- Dick carries the scent of sugar coated, blue cotton candy and mouthwatering salted popcorn. It reminds Jason of the one chance he took to sneak into the circus tent and hide under the bleachers as he watched the performance of the graceful Flying Graysons. He's always transported back to that memory when the scent hits his nose. But there's always a hint of hyacinth, and Jason has no idea where that comes from.

-- Tim may smell like apples when he's anxious, but he always carries a different scent of a different apple depending on his mood. If Tim is anxious or afraid, he reminds Jason of the odious redolence of a green apple. If Tim is mildly annoyed, enraged, or upset, he carries the scent of red apple. If Tim carries the scent of a yellow apple, it's an indicator that Tim is in a good mood.

-- Jason likes the yellow apple the most because A) That means Tim is in a good mood, and B) the smell of a yellow apple is a piquant flavor he has added on to his list of good scents. He doesn't feel has to avoid that apple without a specific reminder which is nice.

-- Steph smells zesty and sweet and reminds him of pop rocks candy, specifically the grape flavored kind. This could be due to her vivacious nature, but he nose tingles every time her scent appears. That could sometimes lead him to sneezing - which he doesn't admit to her.

-- Cas smells like Jasmine and sandal wood with a hint of roses.

-- Damian smells like paprika and cinnamon.

-- Duke smells like honey (and a part of him wonders if that's just because of the suit or the bee meme that his nose decided to join on the bandwagon.)

-- Alfred smells like his homemade chocolate chip cookies and hibiscus tea.

-- "And what about Bruce?" Dick's question is hanging in the air as Jason is drifting off to sleep. And Jason will never speak the truth of how Bruce smells now.

-- But he can always bend the truth.

-- "Used to smell like leather and campfire wood," Jason yawns into his pillow. "Used to smell safe."

-- "Used to?" Tim's question remains unanswered as Jason finally falls asleep.

-- When Jason wakes up, he notes that everyone is asleep except for Tim, who's claimed his spot in the armchair and curled around his laptop. His mug rests on top of the coffee table, his fingers are rapidly yet quietly typing away on the keyboard, and his focus is so honed in on the screen in front of him that he's caught off guard when Tim abruptly states, "Phantosmia."

-- Jason rubs the sleep out of his face. "Phanto-what?"

-- "Phantosmia," Tim repeats, adjusting his body weight on the arm chair and his eyes remain on the computer screen. "Or more known as a phantom smell, meaning you'll smell something that isn't there. Most people typically smell metal, burnt toast, or chemicals. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, just what occurs with either strokes or severe head trauma."

-- "Well, that explains a lot." Jason huffs, a smirk teasing his lips.

-- Even though he has an answer - which is pretty rare considering his medical history puts Santa's naughty list to shame - he doesn't believe having phantom smells is necessarily a horrible thing to have.

-- If the wind blows in just the right direction, he'll have scent of his mom follow him. Not his birth giver, Shelia, but Catherine. His mom carried the luscious scent of marshmallows, lilac flowers, and lit vanilla candles. And in his mind, it's still like his mom is there, still with him. Oddly, that was the last scent he remembers before he died in the warehouse and it's the safest he ever felt in years despite all the surrounding chaos.

-- "Thanks for researching, Timbo." Jason whispers.

-- Tim turns his head to Jason, and his lips lift into a grin. "Sure thing, Jay."

-- Phantosmia, while there are aspects of it he despises, he thinks there's a bit of a blessing buried in it too.

Hey guys! It's been a solid few days (I got super busy this week), but I thought I'd produce another headcanon. I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading! I'll post another head canon soon!

Other headcanons:

Head canon 1

Head canon 2