#Because of the way they feel about themselves

[reignpage]

Physics Tutor!Nanami

Conservation of momentum: if it's just us we can remain at a constant

Content: Friday night party, we're nearing the end y'all, mixed content of angst and fluff, a little sexual action but only if you squint Word Count: 3k Guide

“Nanami, seriously, you’re a grown man,” you mutter, a little annoyed. 

This isn’t how you expected to spend to your Friday night, wrangling a six-foot-tall man into his home but your ex-physics tutor came to a frat party and you had actually drank with him. Now you’re facing the consequences. 

Earlier in the night, the sight of Nanami in his cute blue sweater, sitting awkwardly as he eyed the couple making out next to him with disgust, was enough to warrant a heart attack. You had offered to drink with him in the garden, to take care of him so he could let loose. For an hour or two, you drank a couple shots, relishing the cool breeze which kept your head screwed tight as you sat beside him.

Gojo had passed by, wriggling his eyebrows at you and making lewd movements with his hands. That hadn’t gone by unnoticed by Nanami, who grew quiet. You thought maybe he was tired, maybe he wanted to go home, and when you suggested you part ways, he gripped your wrist. 

“No, don’t go with him,” he slurred. 

You didn’t have plans to go with your friend, you were just going to turn in for the night too, but as you looked at the man you’ve been madly in love with for months and saw his ruffled hair, slightly askew glasses, fogging up from the heat his face was producing, and the flush brightening his cheeks, you realised that there was nowhere else you’d rather be. 

So, you stayed, sitting on the garden sofa with him. There were a couple other people loitering around, but none really paid any attention, everyone too immersed in their own conversations and lives to notice the two of you in the corner, thighs pressed together and shoulder brushing once in a while. 

His heat was permeating, tickling your side, and you couldn't help yourself, you leaned in close, the alcohol in your system made it so effortless to just let his gravitation pull bring you closer. If he noticed, he didn't say a thing.

You made small talk, discussing lectures and assignments. It was easy to talk to Nanami; other people were always so eager to prove themselves academically superior, never really listening to what you had to say, but rather looking for weak points to attack. It was never a conversation and instead a battlefield. And when you complained to your friends, they never seemed to understand.

With him, however, he listened more than he talked. Always. He hummed and nodded, mulling and considering your words carefully like what you had to say was just as important as anything an esteemed lecturer was teaching. With him, you felt like equals. Which was insane because he was Nanami Kento, and you were just the girl he had to tutor.

"I hate that bald Professor!" You groaned. "He's so boring."

He chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "He is rather monotonous, I must admit. You aren't the first student to complain and likely will not be the last."

"Yeah, I bet. But I honestly just don't think he should be a lecturer. I'd probably be a better one than him."

Meeting your gaze, you see the crinkle in the corners of his eyes, the way they soften as they roam your face, stopping by your smile. His fingers twitch on the empty shot glass, skimming the rim just a little before he affirms, "I have no doubts you would be; I can't imagine anyone finding you boring."

Passing each other shot glasses, you'd sip and chat. Nothing about the elephant in the room, not about your confessions, about the odd tension permeating the relationship, certainly not about why he showed up to the party, or why he had become flirtatious. Perhaps it was cowardice that held you both back. Maybe it was the enjoyment of simply existing beside each other, not as classmates, not as tutor and student, and not as two people whose feelings have gotten all tied up.

But as just Nanami and y/n.

Eventually, you both ceased your chattering. Settling to watch the other partygoers or the stars twinkling. Once in a while, he'd point to a star and tell you about its story, and you'd sit entranced by his voice --it's so steady, so smooth and clear, you could listen to it for hours. And when he talked to you of astronomy and gravity and quantum mechanics and the probability of time travel, you thought he should be a lecturer. You'd attend every class, every seminar, and never complain.

"How do you know so much about stars? We don't get taught about constellations."

He lifted one shoulder. "I work at the Eden Observatory part-time."

It was so quintessentially Nanami you didn't question it even though you were bursting to ask. He would have given you all the answers you sought, you're sure by the way he gazes at you expectantly.

Silence passed by, comfortable and soothing. You had no idea what time it was, didn’t care enough to reach forward to get your phone from the table, and neither did Nanami. You thought maybe he was nodding off but when you peered up at him, he was looking down. 

At your hand. 

“C-can I hold it?” 

His voice was gravelly, a hesitation that you’d never heard from him. The way he was gazing down at your hand, limp on your lap, like it was precious, like it was made of glass, and he could be beheaded for daring to even look, made your stomach feel weird. It was the very feeling you had been trying to bury for weeks. 

It was dangerous. You’d been working so hard to walk away and he was erasing the line, stretching out his arms to invite you back over. Unwise was what letting him do as he pleased would be, and yet, you found yourself nodding. And when his own hands, warm and large, wrapped around one of yours, you couldn’t fight back the shiver that ran through you. 

He was holding you so softly, in a way no one ever has, and you could only gulp. It was as if you had entered enemy territory, foreign and riddled with land mines that could go off and blow everything up if you so as much as made the wrong step. When his thumb grazed your knuckles, your heart skipped a beat. 

“Nanami,” you began but his hand squeezed yours and you shut up.

Your ex-physics tutor was still staring at your hand, marvelling at the soft skin, his glasses slide down his nose just a little bit, and you had to push it up with your free hand. That caught his attention, as if remembering there was a person attached to the hand he was holding so carefully. 

Clearing his throat, he shook his head, clearly trying to get his bearings. “Y/n, please rethink your decision to drop out.”

“I can’t.” You pulled your hand out of his like it burned. And then you looked away, crossing your arms so you wouldn’t be tempted. “This is for the best.”

“No. You were doing so well, even Professor Yaga had said so.”

With a sigh, you turned back to him, finding his blush endearing. The longer you stared the more it threatened your defences. You couldn’t let him talk you out of it, your sister you could fight off, even Gojo, but not Nanami. Not when every word that came out of his mouth sounded like the Gospel, like undeniable, irrefutable facts. 

Standing, you brushed invisible dust off your skirt and looked anywhere but at him. Unsteady, you asserted, “Nanami, I’ll take you back.”

He shook his head, strands of his hair falling over his forehead, obscuring his vision. You brushed them off, so lush under your palm, and he looked up at you like you were an angel -- mouth slightly parted, he blew air in the space between you, eyes slightly glossy as he watched you. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know?” He whispered, and then added, his brows furrowing, softening his gaze even further, “It hurts to look at you.”

You staggered back, arms falling to your sides as you gaped at him. You didn’t understand what that meant, what he was trying to say, nor why your heart was clenching so painfully, like someone had reached in and squeezed. 

“Maybe you can get your roommate to take you,” you whispered breathlessly.

Nanami shook his head once more, standing up too. His trousers were all crinkled and when he got to his feet he swayed slightly. You rushed over to his side, letting him lean against you. He was heavy, even as he carried most of his weight, and he smelled amazing. Clean, fresh and sweet. It reminded you of a bakery, just after closing, with the scent of butter and vanilla lingering in the air. 

“No, Haibara’s with his sister.” 

You both began walking, ignoring the staring and whistling people were throwing at you as they noticed both of your existence then. Some girls pointed to Nanami, no doubt recognising him from the List. They whispered amongst themselves, blushing and roving his body. You urged him to walk faster.

“Hey, hey, where are you two lovebirds going?” An irritating voice shouted. “You know my rules about fucking in the house. You have to pay a fee.”

Rolling your eyes, you informed him, “I’m taking Nanami home, he’s a little out of it.”

Gojo scanned your ex-tutor’s face, really looking at him and realising you were right. Suddenly, his grin dropped, and he was nodding to the front door. “Alright, I’ll drive. You seem out of it too.”

And just before you all left through the front door, he yelled to his deputy, “Don’t let the place burn down, it's a pain to deal with.”

The car ride to Nanami’s place passed in another relative silence, both of you in the back as you strapped him in, and your friend hummed to the songs on the radio, drumming his fingers. As obnoxious as Gojo could be, there were these rare moments of maturity and wisdom that people didn't see. But you did. You and Suguru, and these were the very moments that reminded you, no matter what, you would always find a home with him.

Parked, you unbuckled your seatbelt, reaching over the slightly light-headed man and unbuckled him too. His hand brushed your hair, gently, always so gentle. You refused to look at him.

“Let me know if you need a ride back,” Gojo threw at you, going on his phone as you fought to get your ex-tutor out, ignoring the glares you were directing towards him. His helpfulness had reached its max, clearly.

“No, she’s staying with me,” Nanami croaked. He slammed the door a little harder than necessary and you winced. Pointing a finger at Gojo through the rolled down window, he slurred, “You can go.”

Not taking any offence whatsoever, the frat president grinned and winked at you. “Alright, have fun, babes. Wrap it before you tap it. Or not. I'm pretty ready to be a fun uncle.”

And then he was driving off, leaving you crumpling under the weight of your responsibility with your jaw on the floor. That prick. Oh, you were so going to make him pay. 

By some miracle, you made it up to his floor with Nanami's jumbled directions, and now here you are, muttering irritated complaints about how clumsy this grown man is despite his age and wisdom.

“Seriously? Nanami, I told you to get it before we reach your door!”

You’re watching Nanami dig through his pockets for his keys, pink tinting the tip of his ears, either with embarrassment or with the warmth of the alcohol. He’s fumbling, muttering curses under his breath as he struggles, clumsy fingers catching on each other. You groan and swat his hands away, trying to get a feel for his keys through his trousers instead. 

This is not your first time dealing with drunk men. But it is your first time with a man as adorable as he is, unfortunately.

“Are you mad at me?”

Glancing up, you look at him, exasperated and unprepared for the pout on his face. His glasses are slanted again, and you have no free hands to push them back up — one hand is already holding him up and the other is buried in his pocket searching for his keys and trying to get past the lip balm in there. 

"No, Nanami. I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed." You hate that you sound just like your mother, but someone has to be the responsible one. You just never thought it'd ever be you.

He winces. “Please, be careful.”

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

Nanami flushes harder, the tips of his ears matching and he avoids eye contact, stilling your wrist with a firm hand. “No, you didn’t. It’s just…”

You follow his gaze, both of you looking down and seeing something that shouldn’t be happening. You blink, cartoon character style. This is so very bad. 

Taking a deep breath, you pull the keys out and mutter weakly, “Found it.”

Once you’re inside, you pull Nanami with you, eyeing his place and appreciating the cleanliness; your place is not nearly as tidy as his. But you do see a messy arrangement of papers on his table. You can imagine a busy Nanami, sitting on the sofa, going over the papers and reading out loud under his breath. You smile.

“Alright, big guy. Where’s your room?”

“Buy me dinner first,” he chuckles to himself. He slumps down on the sofa, the leather creaking under his weight and he shrugs off his sweater, the shirt underneath riding up to reveal his abs. You look away. 

Oh, so the man has jokes. 

You’re fighting the urge to walk away and with a shaky breath, full of frustration, you very calmly say, “Nanami, it’s late, sweetheart. You’re going to need to go to bed, okay?”

Then he’s smiling up at you, a gummy smile that’s so dopey you can’t help but smile with him. 

“I like that.” He tilts his head at you. “I like when you call me sweetheart. Do it again.”

Counting to ten, you try again, “Okay, Nanami. I’ll call you sweetheart when you get in bed. It’s a reward.”

He mouths it back, tasting the word and that seems to resonate with him. Raising a hand out, he’s urging you to help him up and so you step forward, ready to bear his weight again, but then you’re being yanked down, and the world turns upside down. 

Nanami’s pinned you to the sofa, leaning over you with a fierce look in his eyes. Gone is the nerdy lightweight, and in his place is the man you’ve caught glimpses of. The one that furrows his brown in a stern scolding, that scribbles frantically on his papers and argues with the professors. Suddenly, he no longer looks his age and instead, appears not as a clumsy college student, but rather as a man. 

The kind of man that could command the attention of an entire room. 

“You did this to me,” he gestures to his hard on, the very same one you’ve been avoiding staring too long at. “Take responsibility, won’t you, darling?”

You choke on your own saliva. What the fuck?

Shaking your head, you remind yourself, he’s drunk, you’re no longer his student, and you’ve been a pain in his ass the entire time. Don’t take anything he says whilst under the influence to heart. It’s just chemicals in his brain. Just a biological urge. It means nothing. 

“Nanami, you’re drunk, let’s drink some water, okay?”

“Four shots is barely anything. I might be a lightweight, but I’m tipsy at most,” he scoffs. Leaning down, he grazes your cheek with his nose, inhaling deep with a groan. “You always smell so good.”

He might claim to be sober enough, but you’re not convinced. Sure, you can’t deny that you want him, but you don’t want him like this; you don’t want to be wanted because the alcohol has clouded his judgment. You want to be seen, as you are and not just another warm body to pass the time. 

Slowly, gently and with as much patience as you can muster, you nudge his head from your neck, and say, “You need to let me go, Nanami.”

“No.”

“Nanami.”

“I don’t want you to leave me.” That gravelly voice is back, the one weighed down by some inner turmoil you aren’t privy to, and you can only bite your lip when he presses a tender kiss at the crook of your neck. “I want you any way you’ll let me.”

You’re tearing up. It might be because he’s whispering it right by your ear or because his words sound so sincere, but you feel your bottom lip quiver. This isn’t how the night was supposed to go; you wanted to let loose and forget everything by partying life away, but now you’re practically cuddling with your physics tutor. Ex physics tutor.

Despite being a little out of it and shaking with some unknown emotion, he isn’t suffocating you with his weight. He’s holding himself up in a plank, inhaling your scent and fighting off your weak pushes. 

“Please, Nanami. Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay?”

“You promise?” He lifts his head, lashes fluttering as he searches your features for any hint of deception. “You’re not going to avoid me?”

You shake your head, and he sighs, smiling. 

“Good, because I really don’t like it when you do that.”

And then he’s pushing off. A cool breeze brushes past you and you’re shivering from the sudden loss of warmth. Nanami disappears into a room you’re assuming is his and you go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When you enter his room, he’s only in his boxers, climbing into bed. 

He lifts the cover up and pats the empty space beside him, grumbling, “Come on, I’m cold.”

You sigh, ripping the cover from his hands and tuck him in. “No, Nanami. I’m not sleeping with you. I’m going now so I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Almost breaking out into laughter at the scowl that graces his face, you have to distract yourself by pulling his glasses off and folding them onto his bedside table. Like this, he looks so youthful. No longer frowning over data variables or anomalistic lab results, he’s just lying peacefully. 

"You aren't better off taking a different course. You work well under my tutelage. Grant me the opportunity to change your mind about everything. Let me show you I didn't mean the things I said," he pleads, eyes flutterings shut.

Hesitant, you say, "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Nanami."

"Just one chance, y/n. Don't cross this off simply because we reached a bump. You trusted my guidance before, trust me now."

You don't know what exactly he's referring to and you're too scared to ask. All you can do is watch sincerity, a raw kind of pleading, swirl in his vibrant eyes. He has you in his palms and he doesn't even realise.

"Okay."

He’s fast asleep when you leave. 

You don’t bother Gojo for a ride back to your home, you texted him your sister's picking you up. She might be asleep by now but you'll wake her up anyways, so you can tell her about everything that's happened and ask for her two cents, because you think Nanami practically confessed his feelings for you. But that doesn’t make sense with all that’s unfolded, right?

How could he possibly like a girl like you?

You’re loud, boisterous, air-headed, and not the kind of girl one takes home to their mother. He deserves a girl that’s as smart, as put together, and mature and wise as he is. Deserves one that hasn’t been tainted by bad decision and nightmares.

Sighing again — you’ve been doing a lot of that lately — you walk home, in the dark, fighting the urge to look back. And as the night’s chill prick your skin, you wonder how Nanami will feel in the morning. 

Embarrassment, shame, humiliation?

Whatever it’ll be, you just hope it isn’t regret. 

You have enough of that for the both of you.

[strwberri-milk]

How do you think the lnds boys would react if mc breaks up with them, and later, they find out the motive was that mc thinks she isn't good enough for them?

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Also, girl, how do you get the creativity to write so many requests? You're amazing! 🙃

i dont really have creativity im just good at following guidelines when people send requests and i can see how it plays out in my head lolol ty though <33

He's angry, upset, anything and everything. His mind is spinning as this revelation hits him. Rafayel and Sylus fought like crazy to try and keep you, ending up in even more arguments that just cemented in your desire to leave him because you hated that you were hurting him so much. Zayne and Xavier were stunned when you brought it up and just tried their best to delay the actual breaking up until one day you just up and left them with nothing but the memory of you.

He texts you and calls you immediately - even if you're blocked he has his ways of getting around it. Zayne is fairly calm about reaching out, sending you a message asking you to speak. In reality, he was losing his mind over this, wanting you to reply and desperately wanting to beg but also knowing that if he pushed too hard there was a good chance you wouldn't reply.

Rafayel is a spammer, of course. He keeps messaging you until you finally end up replying to him. Xavier and Sylus are in between - Sylus' messages are firm but he isn't blowing up your phone. Xavier is sending you more messages then Sylus, but they all sound so hurt you can't look at them without feeling like crying.

He will secure a meeting with you and this is going to be one of the few times you see him genuinely angry. He's quiet, watching your every move as his hands keep themselves busy. Thankfully, you don't feel like he's going to hurt you or yell at you but you do feel bad about how mad he is, weakly trying to explain that you were trying to do what would be best for him.

He shuts it down right away, telling you that he doesn't care what you think about yourself. He loves you and he wants you and if you're going to sabotage the one good thing he's been given he's not going to give up that easily this time. You know internally that he didn't really even give up easily the first time so you just kinda stay quiet, trying to figure out what you want to say to him.

Eventually he'd manage to convince you into giving the two of you a second chance. However, he does also tell you that he can't handle you self-sabotaging to such a drastic degree a second time. He's been running himself haggard since the first time you broke up with him and if you're insistent that you're not good enough for him to this degree he's going to start insisting on counseling in some form. He also does his best to show you and tell you how much he loves and appreciates you - even more so than before. You will be drowning in affection and there's literally nothing you can do about it.

[hylianengineer]

Brilliant post, excellent tags by @ds9promenade

Something I love about DS9’s framing of Jake Sisko is how he’s consistently positioned as someone worthy of protection, whose survival and flourishing and emotional well-being are of tantamount importance, and whose innocence and vulnerability are precious.

It’s present from all directions in The Visitor. Everybody protectively closes ranks around Jake upon Ben’s disappearance, with those little moments of Dax and Kira and Bashir giving him physical affection and reassurance and Quark going out of his way to be nice to him. Jake’s older self’s protective impulses towards his younger self, as well as his desire to save his father, are the basis for the timeline reset. And then after the spacetime continuum gets wrenched back in line purely to save Jake from the emotional trauma of losing his father, the episode ends with Ben, who’s borne witness to everything and is the only one who remembers it all, continuing that work of shielding Jake from that knowledge.

And then Nor the Battle to the Strong carries on the thread of protectiveness towards Jake, in that case as part of the episode’s deconstruction of military heroism. As he’s marinating in shame over bailing on the mission to retrieve the generator, Bashir apologizes to him and says he was wrong to put Jake in harm’s way in the first place. And then at the end, he wakes up after sealing the cave entranceway and both Bashir and his father are tenderly looking after him, with similar imagery to The Visitor in terms of him being symbolically cradled by the other cast members’ concern for him. He never needs to toughen up or grow out of that need to be rescued - in fact, his fear and panic and feelings of being out of his depth prove to be immensely valuable, as his last conversation with his father emphasizes, because he’s able to bear witness to the experience of the soldiers through his writing.

That comes through in a really interesting way in Valiant as well, with Jake’s emphatic concern for his own survival in the midst of all the culty militaristic weirdness of the Valiant crew:

Nog: You don’t understand, because you’ve never put on one of these uniforms. You don’t know anything about sacrifice, or honor, or duty, or any other things that make up a soldier’s life. I’m part of something larger than myself. All you care about is you.

Jake: That’s right. All I care about is Jake Sisko and whether or not he’s going to be killed by a bunch of delusional fanatics looking for martyrdom.

And I love that exchange not only because it’s a rare articulation of how I would actually feel in a situation like that in a franchise full of characters who are all prepared to sacrifice themselves in the line of duty, but also because in the context of the episode, Jake’s position is actually the heroic one! It’s his sense of self-preservation, and the fact that he hasn’t romanticized the notion of heroic sacrifice, that enables him to see through the dogmatic ideology of the Valiant cadets and recognize how dangerously out of their depth they are. And it’s just a nice articulation of his own worth.

(And of course the Defiant rescues them at the end, because Jake’s grown up now, but he hasn’t outgrown needing his father to save him. And that’s never a shameful thing, but a really beautiful thing, and necessary to the fabric of the show.)

[communistkenobi]

struggling to reconcile my dislike of the use of “choice” in relation to transgenderism. sex assignment itself is not a choice and I don’t find it meaningful or helpful to think I “chose” to be transgender. in fact there were many things I “chose” to do prior to transitioning to make this feeling go away and it did not. Choice is further wrapped up in intentionally de-politicised ideas about social action and agency, constantly positioned in opposition to “structure” or “social pressure” or what have you. “Choice” is what happens only in the absence of domination, it is the expression of the “individual” trapped within us all. What this leaves you with is a subject who appears to rise above the power of history, making decisions ‘of his own free will’ in spite of all this violence as a result of, um, well that’s not important! Let’s not look at the law or the state or history to see where these ideas of personal individual freedoms come from or how they are themselves enforced through violence. It’s just an individual acting on his desires! To “choose to be trans” in popular consciousness means to be given the privilege of being free from patriarchal social pressures. And this is a line terfs often use - trans people are reinforcing patriarchy by deluding ourselves into thinking we can “simply choose” to be another gender. I think committing to the idea of choice as a concept and all its attendant ideological baggage (overwhelmingly structured by bourgeois legal frameworks in the popular imaginary) forces you into some deeply flawed analyses of power and domination.

And I likewise hate that the other dominant framework is “born this way/born in the wrong body” because of how it naturalises the very political and violent nature of sex assignment and its embeddedness within state census data, administrative architecture, the pathologisation of sex and desire (all of which are not natural or eternal), and so on. furthermore I deeply respect the position other trans people have when they say that they chose to be transgender - outside of conversations of individual validity, I think that is a politically useful and powerful way to position yourself. Even if we were to accept that being transgender is fully a choice, people would still do it, because being trans is not disgusting or shameful. I am not a sick individual, or a tragedy, or a danger to others, I am transgender and that is an incredibly meaningful and fulfilling part of my life. To frame this as a sexual perversion or life-long condition means reinforcing the idea that transgenderism is a shameful deformity (we have much in common with our disabled & intersex comrades in this regard), that the cissexual body is the exclusive site of beauty and authenticity.

And so this is where I find the idea of autonomy much more useful - while ‘choice’ is situated as a thing that individuals do, autonomy is power that is granted to you. I can’t meaningfully demand choice as a political goal, but I can demand autonomy. I don’t want choice, I want the autonomy to act on my desires, and the way that will happen is through the state provision of free hrt, surgery, name and gender marker changes, and so on. Autonomy feels like a much more productive articulation of “choice” because it necessitates that we think about who and what grants autonomy, for what purposes, in which contexts. Who gives a shit about choices! Transgenderism is not a social position an individual can have in society, it is produced through cissexualism, through state and medical sex assignment, through coercion and pathologisation and violence - all of which can be changed.

As a direct comparison, I don’t think people should be given the “choice” to have an abortion, but the autonomy to do so - sure you can choose to get one, but unless there is the medical, financial, and social infrastructure available to you to act on that decision, then that is not a meaningful choice you can “make.” Abortion being legal (and therefore an action you are granted the ‘choice’ to take) doesn’t mean it is actually realisable as a decision, it just means that whoever already has the power & resources to act on that legality will, and those that don’t, won’t. Who decides which people have those resources and which don’t? Well let’s not worry about that, the important thing is that people have choices!

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: Their hidden insecurities

Hello and welcome to this new reading! I will tell you the hidden insecurities of your specific person/future spouse. I hope you all enjoy it!

FREE READING: a subscription to my Patreon before February 7th, no matter the tier, will give you a free question of choice.

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Subliminal Channel > PATREON [NEW] > Patreon Masterlist [NEW]

The extended version of this reading can be found on my Patreon, the link of which is here

~pick a card~

Pile 1:

They find it incredibly difficult to believe that there are people that truly care about them. Your SP doesn’t see themselves as someone who is worthy of love sometimes; they don’t really love themselves and therefore find it incredibly difficult to understand that others do see them as a beautiful person. They find it difficult to rely on others because they have no way of grasping the fact people around them are there for them when they need it. Your SP finds it difficult to speak about their issues and internal troubles because of this, that is why they sometimes seem emotionally distant. It doesn’t dawn on them that people are there for them.

Pile 2:

They are insecure about their future and disappointing the people around them. Your SP is someone who is very socially-oriented. They care about the people around them and take their wishes and expectations as something they have to accomplish in life. Not only this, there are people who have certain expectations laid upon them when it comes to what they have to achieve in life, and that lays heavy on their shoulders. Not everything comes easy for them, and some of these expectations they might never be able to achieve because it isn’t something they want to do, or are able to do; something they know deep-down, which makes their worries even worse.

Pile 3:

Your SP is insecure about many things all at once, they don’t have a specific insecurity that is more present than the other. They are insecure about their looks; never really happy with it, convinced they’re too skinny or too fat, that they don’t have enough curves or too many, that their skin isn’t clear enough and has too many imperfections. Due to this they are also afraid they won’t ever find a long-term partner in life even though that is one of their biggest dreams in life. They want a nice, calm, and small family. They might have some hobbies or interests that are not usual and because of that don’t really share it with many people even though it means a lot to them. This makes them feel alone sometimes.

[voxslays]

You need to do a NSFW Alphabet - Hwang In-Ho version🤫🫣

NSFW ALPHABET — HWANG IN-HO

A/N: 😏

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

 ၴႅၴ Very cuddly. In some sense, In-ho is terrified of you leaving him like his first wife. He knows he can’t handle another loss, and in a way, he feels like holding you will stop you from leaving him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

 ၴႅၴ For In-ho, he doesn’t really have a favorite body part on himself. I honestly think he could care less. Meanwhile, for you, In-ho is definitely a boobs or thighs guy.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

 ၴႅၴ I don’t think In-ho is the type to have any ‘secrets’ when it comes to intimacy. With the people he cares about and cherishes, I doubt he’d keep much from them. He seems like an honest man with you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

 ၴႅၴ Very experienced. He is an older—yet extremely attractive—man, who not only had an ex-wife (may she rest in peace), but several other partners as well.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

 ၴႅၴ Breeding press.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

 ၴႅၴ Very serious. I don’t see In-ho as the type to make jokes on the regular, and definitely not during your intimate time.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

 ၴႅၴ A professional romantic. In-ho knows just what to say to you every single time. His words are a mix of degrading and praising—but mainly praising.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

 ၴႅၴ Nope. Why would he? He has you!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

 ၴႅၴ Breeding kink. I’m not sure if these count, but he also loves creampie and cockwarming too! Possibly a lactation kink aswell…anything that involves you carrying his child.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

 ၴႅၴ The bedroom or office.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

 ၴႅၴ Fast, but sensual.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

 ၴႅၴ Absolutely not. Never. He likes to take his time with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

 ၴႅၴ Maybe…? I don’t think so though. He’s been doing it for a long time and he knows what he likes and what he doesn’t.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

 ၴႅၴ I’d say a 3-4 on a regular night, and maybe 4-5 if he’s pent up.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

 ၴႅၴ Haha…nope!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

 ၴႅၴ In-ho is usually a pretty fair man—unless you are being bratty. Then he just has to remind you of your place by edging you for what feels like hours.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

 ၴႅၴ Bro is trying to get you pregnant on a regular basis.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

 ၴႅၴ Very slowly—if at all. Like the salesman, I think In-ho is a very light sleeper, because he knows the dangers that his job brings both you and him.

[phoenixrisingastro]

𝕷𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖞: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖌𝖊𝖙 𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖉

Some lovers are fleeting. Some are safe. And then… there’s Lilith.

When Lilith touches a planet in synastry, the relationship is no longer “normal.” It becomes forbidden, intoxicating, magnetic, and destructive. It’s the affair you never admit to. The obsession that lingers even when they’re gone. The lover that carves their name into your body without ever touching you.

This isn’t about “love.” It’s about possession. Power. Lust. Taboo. The kind of connection that exposes every hidden desire you were too afraid to admit you had. And once you’ve tasted it?

You’ll never be the same..

Lilith Conjunct the Sun ☀️ – They Burn Themselves Into Your Identity

They don’t just admire you; they absorb you. Their presence threatens your sense of self because suddenly, they are the center of your world. They worship your power, your ego, your existence itself. But the more they love you, the more they want to own you.

And that’s what makes it dangerous. You’ll never feel more desired—but you’ll also never feel more exposed.

Lilith Conjunct the Moon 🌙 – The Emotional Addiction That Wrecks You

This is the ultimate heartbreaker aspect. They see into your soul in a way that feels almost supernatural. There are no boundaries here—your emotions are raw, primal, uncontrollable.

You’ll feel haunted by their presence even when they’re gone. You’ll dream of them. Smell them on strangers. Hear their voice in every love song.

This isn’t just emotional intimacy—it’s emotional ruin.

Lilith Conjunct Mercury 🧠 – The Mind Game You’ll Never Escape

Their words drip with seduction. Their voice feels like a spell you can’t break. Conversations with them aren’t just talk—they’re foreplay, battlefields, and confessions all at once.

They’ll say things that linger in your mind for years. And the worst part? They know exactly what they’re doing.

Lilith Conjunct Venus 💋 – The Lover That Ruins You for Everyone Else

They are your darkest fantasy. The forbidden pleasure you can’t resist. There’s an undeniable pull, an attraction so strong it feels like fate—or punishment.

Sex isn’t just sex here. It’s a ritual. A sacrifice. A rebirth. And even when they leave, you’ll still feel them in your skin.

Lilith Conjunct Mars 🔥 – The Lust That Feels Like War

This is f*cking, not making love. The kind of chemistry that makes you forget your name, your morals, your goddamn dignity.

Fights turn into sex. Jealousy turns into obsession. You bring out the animal in each other. And when it’s over? You’ll both be bruised—but you’ll still crawl back for more.

Lilith Conjunct Pluto ☠️ – The One Who Controls You Without Saying a Word

This isn’t a relationship. It’s a power struggle. They don’t just enter your life—they infiltrate it. They learn your fears, your weaknesses, your hidden desires—and they use them against you.

You don’t love them. You worship them. You hate them. You can’t live without them.

And you’ll never be free.

Lilith Synastry: The Aftermath

No one walks away from a Lilith synastry connection unscathed.

You don’t just move on. You remember them in your bones. In the way your body reacts to certain songs, in the way you still flinch when someone whispers your name like they did.

They become your darkest secret. And your most beautiful regret.

So if you find yourself drawn into a Lilith synastry connection…

Just know—you’re not choosing them.

They’re choosing you.

And you will never be the same..

[heartsriki]

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY ⌇편지

pairing ᝰ ni-ki x fem!reader — featuring.. jungwon | word count: 2200+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ highschool au!, fluff, misunderstandings, sunshine x grumpy.

synopsis — After seeing your tiny crush nishimura riki sneak something into the confession box you just had to investigate.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊guys I swear ill make a non highschool au with riki soon... I couldn't help myself.. anyways its FEB!! can't wait to write valentines themed fics!

Finally.

It was your favorite month of the whole year.

You worked as a library assistant at your school—not because you particularly loved the job, but because it was better than joining a club.

Well… that’s what you told people.

In reality, you had a secret gig.

Tucked away in the most secluded part of the library was your confession box—a simple, unassuming container where students could slip in anonymous notes pouring out their feelings.

It started as something just for you. A place to vent when things got overwhelming. But then, he found out.

Jungwon.

You had no choice but to let him in on your little secret, and somehow, he became your best friend. Over time, word spread, and people started using the box themselves. What once held only your thoughts turned into a place where students whispered their love stories into folded pieces of paper.

Only Jungwon knew you were the one behind it.

And now, February had arrived—the holy grail of confessions. Sure, people submitted notes year-round, but around Valentine’s Day? The numbers spiked.

You weren’t going to lie. You loved it. Not just the thrill of reading them (and occasionally sharing the best ones with Jungwon, who never breathed a word), but the idea that you were helping people express what they were too afraid to say out loud.

So here you were, stationed at the front desk, pretending to browse book requests on the computer when a group of girls giggled their way to the back of the library.

Your eyes flickered toward them, amused. Definitely not because you were excited to read their confessions later. Nope. Definitely not.

Then, moments later—he walked in.

Riki.

The second you saw him, your instincts flared up. Suspicious.

Riki never stepped foot in the library. He barely did his assignments, let alone read for fun. So why was he here?

You watched, careful not to make it obvious. He glanced around, acting almost… nervous? And then, without a word, he disappeared into the back.

Seconds later, he reappeared from the other side—hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, walking out as if nothing had happened.

Your breath hitched.

No way.

Did Nishimura Riki just put a confession in your box?

Your hand scrambled for your phone. You had to tell someone.

You:

JUNGWONJUNGWONOMG

PLSPLSANSWERLOOKATURPHONE

Wonnie:

Ok what the hell

What is it?

You:

You are NEVER going to believe who just slid into the back of the library.

Wonnie:

Is it Jake again? Poor guy

Maybe Jay? Idk tell me

You:

Nishimura… Riki…

Wonnie:

… Fr?

Maybe he confessed to you?

You:

Right, totally.

Wonnie:

Think about it.

And you did think about it.

You and Riki had a… relationship. Not exactly a friendship, but not total strangers either.

You first met in detention.

It was your first time there, and you had no idea what you were supposed to do. So, naturally, you turned to the guy next to you—the one with his headphones on, slouched in his seat like he owned the place.

Curious, you tapped his shoulder.

He flinched, looking caught before turning to glare at you. “What?”

You blinked. “How did you sneak those in? Can I listen too?”

Before he could answer, you asked another question. “Wait, also—what are we supposed to do in here?”

His face twisted in disbelief. “What do we do in detention? You sit here. Now be quiet before—”

“Mr. Nishimura, sneaking electronics in again?” The teacher’s voice cut in, hand outstretched.

Riki groaned, slumping back in his seat before begrudgingly handing over his phone and headphones.

When the teacher walked away, he snapped his head back to you, eyes burning with betrayal.

You swore he glared at you for the rest of the day.

Ever since then, you tried to make it up to him—with snacks, lunch, even passing him worksheets to copy. Eventually, after weeks of bugging him, he forgave you.

Kind of.

Even now, he still acted so indifferent.

Whenever you waved at him in the hallway, he looked away. When you invited him to sit with you and your friends, he ignored you. Even when you walked beside him, talking about anything and everything—he barely responded.

At first, you assumed he was just bad with people. But then you saw him with his friends—laughing, joking, talking.

So why was he only like this with you?

Eventually, you gave up.

You distanced yourself, refusing to waste energy on someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

But then, every now and then, you’d catch him staring—or see him approach you, only to hesitate and walk away.

It was confusing. Frustrating. You told yourself you didn’t care anymore.

Until the school trip.

It had been late at night when you were sent to fetch supplies from the shed—a small, isolated building at the edge of the woods.

You weren’t scared, but walking alone with only a flashlight wasn’t exactly comforting.

By the time you found everything, thunder rumbled outside. Moments later, the skies opened up.

Heavy rain. Lightning. The kind of downpour that turned dirt trails into slippery nightmares.

Running back wasn’t an option.

So, hugging your knees to your chest, you sat in the shed—silent, alone, trying not to cry.

Minutes passed. Then—

The door burst open.

You jumped, heart nearly stopping—until your eyes locked with his.

Riki.

He stood there, soaked from head to toe, breathless, his curls sticking to his forehead.

Did he… run here?

He didn’t speak. Just stared for a moment, like he was checking if you were okay, before stepping inside and sitting next to you.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re helpless, you know that?”

You blinked, then let out a soft, teary laugh. He was trying to act tough. But he was clearly worried.

Neither of you spoke after that. You just sat there, listening to the storm. Well, you spoke—rambling like you used to, and for once, he didn’t seem to mind.

By the time the rain cleared, something between you had shifted.

And now, months later, here you were—staring at an empty confession box, knowing Riki put something inside, yet not finding his name anywhere.

Jungwon’s voice pulled you back.

“I knew I’d find you here.” He smirked. “Anything good?”

You forced a laugh, trying to mask your disappointment. “Yeah, some interesting ones. Oh—Minji completely dropped her last crush and moved on to a new one. Isn’t that crazy?”

Jungwon squinted at you. “You’re looking for Riki’s, aren’t you?”

You groaned, immediately dropping your head onto the table. “I’m pitiful. Don’t look at me.”

Jungwon laughed, dragging a chair out and sitting across from you. “You’re not pitiful. Just mildly down bad.”

You groaned, keeping your forehead against the table. “But I know he put something in there. I saw him! I was so ready to read it, but it’s like—poof!—nothing!”

Jungwon tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. “You sure he actually put something in the box?”

You lifted your head slightly. “Of course, I literally watched him sneak in.”

“Then…” Jungwon grinned knowingly. “What if he took something out?”

That made you pause. You sat up straight, eyes wide. “Wait… What?”

“Think about it,” Jungwon continued. “If he put in a confession and realized he wasn’t ready, maybe he took it back.”

Your mind raced. That�� actually made sense. But why would Riki take it back? And more importantly—who was he confessing to?

The thought made your stomach twist, and you weren’t sure why.

Jungwon smirked, clearly enjoying the sight of you struggling. “You could just ask him, you know.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right. ‘Hey, Riki! Weird question, but did you happen to steal a confession from my box?’”

“Why not?” Jungwon shrugged. “Or are you scared of the answer?”

You opened your mouth, ready to deny it, but the words never came. Were you scared? The idea of Riki confessing to someone else made your chest feel tight in a way you weren’t ready to unpack.

Before you could respond, the student council room door creaked open again.

And there he was.

Riki stood in the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets, his hair a little bit above his eyes which flickered between you and Jungwon before settling on you.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. “Welp. That’s my cue to leave.” He patted your shoulder before slipping past Riki, whispering a quick, “Good luck,” on his way out.

The door clicked shut. Silence.

You swallowed. “Um… Did you need a book or—”

“I didn’t take it back.”

Your breath hitched.

Riki sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “The letter. I didn’t take it back.”

Your heart was pounding now. You tried to keep your voice steady. “What do you mean?”

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I put it in there without a doubt, I think… someone else removed it. Maybe it was a sign not to confess to you.”

You.

Your throat went dry. “It was… for me?”

Riki let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Obviously.”

You blinked. “Obviously? What do you mean obviously? You ignore me ninety percent of the time!”

He huffed, looking almost embarrassed. “I don’t ignore you.”

“You literally pretend not to hear me half the time!”

“Because I don’t know what to say!” Riki finally looked at you, frustration and something else—something softer—lingering in his expression. “You drive me crazy, you know that? You talk too much, you’re way too nosy, and you never leave things alone. And somehow, I—” He stopped, exhaling sharply. “I like you, okay?”

Your brain short-circuited.

Riki rolled his eyes at your stunned silence. “This is embarrassing.”

You snapped out of your trance. “Wait, wait. Back up. You like me?”

He groaned, turning toward the door. “Forget I said anything—”

You grabbed his sleeve before he could leave.

He froze.

Slowly, you grinned. “You like me.”

Riki’s ears were turning red. “Shut up.”

You laughed, warmth bubbling in your chest. You never thought you’d get anywhere with him, and yet—here he was, out of breath looking at you so fondly, confessing in the most Riki-like way possible.

February was definitely your favorite month of them all.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The moment Riki stepped into the library, he knew he was making a mistake.

This wasn’t his scene. He didn’t do books, didn’t do anything that required more effort than necessary. But here he was, standing in the one place he actively avoided, shoving his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets as his eyes flickered toward the back.

He could feel your gaze on him.

You were always watching him.

Not in a weird way—more like you were constantly trying to figure him out. Always with that curious glint in your eyes, like he was a puzzle you were determined to solve.

He hated it.

No, that wasn’t true. He hated that he liked it.

And now, as he made his way toward the confession box—the stupidest thing he’d ever been a part of—he was hoping you weren’t paying too much attention.

With one last glance around, he slipped to the back, pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and dropped it inside.

Then, without missing a beat, he walked out through the other side, playing it cool.

It took everything in him not to look back.

He could already picture the way your brain was short-circuiting, the way you were probably grabbing your phone to text Jungwon. You always told him everything, after all.

Riki swore under his breath as he left the library.

He wasn’t even sure why he did it.

Well.

That was a lie.

He knew why.

It was because of you.

Because you confused the hell out of him.

You were supposed to be annoying—loud, persistent, way too nosy for your own good. You were supposed to be someone he could easily brush off, like he did with everyone else.

But you weren’t.

Because no matter how many times he ignored your waves in the hallway, you still smiled at him. No matter how often he shut you out, you never stopped trying.

And then you stopped.

You finally gave up on him.

And for some reason, that made his chest feel too tight.

Ever since that night on the school trip, when he found you curled up alone in the shed, it had been harder and harder to act like he didn’t care.

That night, when he heard you were missing—it was like he could imagine you with red eyed, shoulders shaking—he couldn’t stop himself.

Didn’t even think.

He just ran.

Ran straight into the storm, through the rain, barely able to see a damn thing—but knowing exactly where he was going.

When he finally got there, when he saw you small and fragile under the dim light, something in him cracked.

He never wanted to see you like that again.

But he didn’t know how to tell you that.

He wasn’t good with words. He wasn’t good with feelings.

So he wrote it down instead.

It wasn’t a confession, not in the way you expected.

But it was something.

Something for your eyes only.

Something he thought you would have found by now.

So when he walked passed the student council room later that evening, seeing you and Jungwon hunched over the pile of notes, he knew immediately.

You hadn’t seen it.

Because if you had, you wouldn’t be looking for his name like he overheard.

And now, as both your heads snapped toward him, your eyes wide and startled—

Riki sighed, stepping forward.

…You took it, didn’t you? He thought looking straight at Jungwon.

Because if you didn’t find his letter in the box…

Then someone must have.

What was Jungwon playing at?

What happens next? Click

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 5

Chapters 5 and 6 are done! Yippy! Chapter 7 is going to be a slice-of-life type of thing because I don't want to time skip straight to the bats finding out quite yet. Also, did y'all know that Gothamite also means an inhabitant of NYC? Whenever you see me use that just know I mean an inhabitant of Gotham City.

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 5 >>next(TBC)

NYC was hell on earth and that’s coming from a Gothamite.

Sure- did a rogue attack 3 times a week, maybe more, in Gotham? Yes. But NYC felt lawless and without rhyme or reason. Every day something was happening, every day a building went down if it wasn’t a whole street, every day a hero would almost run you over while you were just trying to chill in the air.

At least on the third Tuesday of every month, there would be no robberies in Gotham, at least if something happened to the city and Batman wasn’t around the rogues would keep the people safe. Here it seemed to be everyone for themselves, and the rent was heinous for the type of bullshit that went down, in Gotham it was pennies compared to NYC. The constant feeling of being watched didn’t help either it irked at the back of your head every time, only stopping in the safety of your home.

The shadows stopped talking to you as well, you could barely hear them anymore, your theory being that NYC was simply too bright compared to G. City. Visiting Midnight City helped keep you connected to them, it felt somewhat like Gotham. But Darkwing felt too much like Batman, making you paranoid, so you never truly lingered for long. You missed them. Missed the rogues, the garden, the kids, the manor. The house really grew on you.

But you liked it. You liked the chaos, the myriads of heroes, the aliens that kept trying to conquer the world, and you enjoyed how the heroes knew that sometimes the best course of action was to kill the threat.

You were still bitter about how Joker took Jason from you, about how Mr. Wayne hid that from you, so seeing Omni-Man, War Woman, Immortal and so many more deal with clearly deadly threats as they should be dealt with felt nice. They would never let Joker live, the clown wouldn’t have millions of kills, and he wouldn’t have gotten Barbara and Jason.

Of course, you’ve heard rumors that while Batman doesn’t go out of his way to kill, he lets others do the dirty work, everyone in Gotham has. You’ve seen Lois Lane cover some of the bigger, worldwide alien attacks that the Justice League helped with. Batman didn’t seem to have a problem with killing or seriously injuring them. He was either a hypocrite or afraid to lose it once he did kill a human, either way, both were bad options.

So, you put up with it, found yourself a studio apartment owned by an old woman, overlooking the fact that the whole building may have been owned by a gang, and kept on doing your online schooling. Kept on making art, donating to charities and shelters, found yourself a nice job pet sitting, and even did some volunteering at local shelters when they needed an extra hand.

You got better at flying, getting so fast you could go around the globe in 5 minutes. It was fun visiting the places you heard Bruce talk about to the others, Algeria, Argentina, Australia, Austria, Bangladesh, Belgium, Brazil, and China. You were planning on visiting every city in every country with this newfound freedom. It was fun, and Bruce didn’t even notice as you used more and more of your allowance.

Sadly, your moments of peace and happiness always seemed to last for a short while. You were happy with just flying, it opened opportunities you didn’t even think were possible, but you’ve never seen a meta whose ability was only flying, not if they didn’t have wings, and maybe paranoia settled in.

Were you just dreaming? Was this just a really long dream? Were you dead? Would you go off the rocket when or if other powers showed up? What will you do when they do show up? You wanted to be an artist, to paint until your heart gave away. But if people needed help you wouldn’t be able to stay on the sidelines knowing you’re more than capable of lending a hand.

You knew you already had some strength power active- you wouldn’t be able to fly that fast without your skin peeling right off. Maybe it just made your skin stronger? Well, that’s how you ended up in a forest, or deep in a park- you weren’t sure, you flew without thinking, your thoughts and theories eating at you until you had to act.

The tree in front of you had an average-sized trunk, maybe on the smaller side compared to the others around you. You’ve been staring at it for a bit, debating if this really was something you wanted to see if you could do. “Ignorance is bliss” flew through your mind, but the full sayings of these quotes always rang at the back of your head. “Where ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise”.

Your fist met the trunk with a small thud, you didn’t feel any pain, nothing was happening, so you bit your lip, closed your eyes tight, and punched the trunk harder. You heard the wood splinter before you saw it, your eyes flying wide open at the sound. The trunk had a dent in the shape of your fist, not quite all the way through. You still felt nothing.

Maybe you shouldn’t have tested out your strength this much, Ivy would have been quite mad at you for destroying so many trees, each one thicker than the last, but you were simply curious and made sure to clean up after yourself. It was weird. If you hit fast enough your arm could go right through quite cleanly, but there was no pain, none at all… Is this how Superman felt?

In your excitement, you didn’t even notice the figure above you, watching your every move or the flying orb camera doing the same. And while the figure kept watching you grow in your powers for a year, watched you help around in small ways, mostly clean up and small muggings, the orb stopped after a few months.

It took a while for you to be able to lift as much as you could now, for the first half of your newfound power you had to break stuff like big rubble down before you could lift them, you still found it amusing how Red Flash stayed quiet about you, but how could he not when you shushed him the first time he tried to tell the others. The man wasn’t about to fuck with Cecil’s worker, even though he might have said a word or two to the old man’s face about child labor.

Despite all that you truly felt happy, fulfilled even. You were doing art, helping people, and despite still working on having friends during the day part, you were glad you left. You were on cloud nine, well, literally more than figuratively. You were flying above the clouds, basking in the sun. Nothing could cloud your life anymore.

…Where did the sun go? Your eyes opened, blissful expression turning into a frown as your eyes caught a dark figure flying just a few paces over you, its eyes glowing, a wide grin showing a full set of teeth, cape billowing behind it.

What. The. Fuck.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion

hope I didn't forget anyone 😬

[wcnderlnds]

we're venus and mars, we're like different stars | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: you're a pink guard and find your annoying best friend in the games. ・❥・word count: 1.8k ・❥・warnings: drug mentions, death mentions, lots of swearing because its thanos. ・❥・ authors note: okay, this is a whole series i've been working on for a few days now and i'm hype for it so hopefully everyone enjoys it as much as me!! we in for an idiot best friends to lovers slowburn.

‘The number you have called is currently unavailable. Please try again later.’

With a heavy sigh, you handed your phone over to the guard standing before you for safekeeping. It was pointless anyway. Su-bong wasn’t going to answer but you wished with your whole heart that he would. The last conversation you’d had with him worried you. Things hadn’t been going great for him lately but the way he’d been talking had really concerned you to the point you’d almost considered ditching your duties and sticking with him but you couldn’t. You’d made a promise many years ago and if you didn’t keep it, things wouldn’t end well for you. There was nothing you could do but hope and pray that your best friend was okay. It would only be a week until you could see him again at least.

Security checks to get into the games always took forever but finally you’d made it through, passing them with flying colours. They were very strict about, well, everything. They took your devices, patted you down just in case you were wearing a wire and questioned you for the passcode. Everyone who had taken the job to be a guard was told the code, never to share it with anyone else. It was so they could sniff out anyone who was trying to sneak in. There had been an incident three years ago where someone had disguised themselves as a guard, infiltrating the games. Since then security had been taken up a notch. 

Making your way to your small room, your thoughts couldn’t help but drift back to Su-bong. Hopefully he wasn’t doing anything stupid but knowing him, he probably was. Stupid was his middle name at this point. With a sigh, you pulled on your pink jumpsuit, the mask with the infamous square on it donning your face and you were ready for the games to begin. 

Crowds upon crowds of people filed through the stairs to where all the photo booths stood. This was the calm before the storm. These poor people had no idea what was coming. There was a part of you that felt sorry for them, the urge to almost tell them what was about to happen forefront in your mind. You couldn’t, though. In this place, doing the job you were doing, you had to be strong. Feelings in this place didn’t end well. That’s why whenever you were here you shut down. You became the person that was cold, calculated. Someone that abided by the rules and didn’t feel any remorse. It was the only way to get through. The only way to make this easier on yourself.

A commotion caught your attention, pulling you out of your thoughts. Your eyes glanced over to where it was coming from and instantly your heart plummeted into the pit of your stomach. The room suddenly started spinning, your hand reaching out to the wall to steady yourself. This could not be real. A wave of nausea hit you, the contents of your stomach threatening to resurface as you watched your purple haired best friend surrounded by a group of his fans.

It was no secret that Thanos needed money but how had he ended up in here? When you last spoke to him yesterday, he said he was probably going to try and find a few gigs to earn a bit of cash. His rap career had taken a bit of a downfall when he lost all his money thanks to MG Coin. It had all gone downhill from there. He started taking drugs, acting erratic like he wasn’t even on this planet. It broke your heart to see him so broken but no matter how many times you had tried to help him, he’d always denied it. That was the thing about Thanos; he was stubborn to a fault.

You had to get it together. As a guard, you couldn’t show weakness. Being weak was what got you killed and that was something you refused to let happen. Nobody would catch you slipping. You stood up straight, your heart still feeling like it was at the bottom of your stomach as you watched the scene unfold. You could handle anyone in here but him. If anything ever happened to him….

His voice echoed through your ears asking you if you wanted to be in the picture. Behind your mask, you rolled your eyes before explaining that it was only one person at a time. Making a cross with your arms, he waved everyone else away. He really didn’t give a damn. His face was etched with frown lines, his lips were constantly turned downward. It took all of your strength not to reach out to him and hug him. At that moment, he looked like he needed one. Or maybe you just did. Watching him walk away only made the beating of your heart increase tenfold knowing what he was walking into.

—————

Was he serious?

Your fists clenched at your sides as you watched Thanos pop one of his pills in his mouth from the control room. Eyes fixated on the screen as the dumbass chased his high rather than dealing with what he’d just witnessed. Understandably, watching someone die right in front of you for the first time was traumatic but what was he thinking taking one of those pills in a game like this?

Maybe you were also a little mad at him for flirting with the girl the second he’d laid eyes on her. It wasn’t surprising — he was a flirt, a player but you thought he’d have enough sense to realise nothing about this place was normal. The feeling of jealousy that had bubbled up inside you when you saw it wasn’t new. It happened all the time whenever he spoke of the girls he’d hooked up with. Your blood would boil while your brain would come up with ideas on how to get rid of said girl. It was solely because he was your best friend and you were scared of losing him. That’s all. Besides, he was the same way whenever you flirted with anyone. The amount of fights you’d had to talk him out of due to him being jealous of the guys you’d hooked up with were insane.

You were transfixed as you watched him dancing and jumping around the field. Oh, you were going to kill him. Never mind this place doing it, you’d take it into your own hands. He was really testing your patience. His reckless behaviour was something you’d found amusing in the past but now when his life hung in the balance, you hated it. The exhale you released when he finally jumped over the finish line was loud enough for a couple of other guards to hear. Nobody questioned you, though. The perks of being higher in the ranks. 

During the dinner hour, you made sure you were on duty in the main dormitory. Even if it was against the rules — something you always tried to stick to in here — you needed to talk to Thanos. So, when you caught him heading to the bathroom, you followed. Once you were close enough, you grabbed his collar and pulled him to a secluded corner.

“What the fuck?” He groaned as you pushed him against the wall, his head hitting it. Not hard, he was just dramatic. “What’s your fuckin’ problem, huh?”

“Shut up,” you hissed, pulling your mask off. Thanos’ eyes widened in an almost comical manner. Was he high and imagining you?

“Obviously, I’m dreaming right now. Bet in two seconds you’ll be on your knees su-“ You glared at him almost daring him to finish that sentence. “I’m joking. I’m joking, damn. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here is the better question! Are you out of your mind?” You released your grip on his collar, taking a step back.

“Relax, I’m good. Ain’t nothing I can’t handle, baby. Now, answer my question. Why are you here and wearing that fuckin’ outfit?” His eyes scanned the pink jumpsuit, his fingers pointing at you. He couldnt wrap his mind around the fact you were here let alone as one of the guards. His sweet, caring best friend being one of the people who shot anyone who lost was something he was going to have a hard time accepting.

“…I work here every year. Have been for about five years now. It’s good money and helps keep me afloat. I’m not proud of it, okay? I hate it here, I hate this whole thing but… when an opportunity shows up, you don’t ignore it.” Your mask was held in your hand by your side, eyes glancing down towards it. 

Thanos held his hands up, shrugging his shoulders. “Ain’t judging you. I just pushed three people so if you’re making money by killing people then whatever.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Ah, but it is. Are you or are you not killing people here?”

Your head hung low in shame. It’s true, you were. The money you were earning came at the cost of people’s lives. Thanos reached out, his finger on your chin tilting your head up so your eyes could meet his. The concern in his matched your own. He could be high as a kite but he would always make sure you were okay. In his shitty life, you were the only thing that mattered. The thing that got him through the days.

“I know you know what you’re doing but be careful, you hear me?” His tone was stern, his deep voice causing little flutters in your stomach.

“I should be saying that to you. Don’t go getting yourself killed, Su-bong. I’ll try and help you as much as I can but there’s only so much I can do,” your voice was barely above a whisper as his thumb brushed against your cheek. He’d taken a step closer, his breath fanning across your face. He was a touchy-feely person, he always had been but never before had his touch made you feel like this. You put it down to the situation you were in. The pounding of your heart and the butterflies fluttering in your stomach were nothing more than nerves, obviously.

“Don’t get yourself in trouble for little old me, Senorita. I’ll be fine,” he winked, his signature smirk on his face. “I really need to piss, by the way. You gonna let me go, guard?”

You rolled your eyes, stepping aside. However, before you could pull your mask back on, Thanos pulled you into his chest, one of his hands resting on the back of your head and the other around your body as he hugged you close to him. You could hear his heart pounding against his chest, your own matching his rhythm. As your arms wrapped around him, you couldn’t help but wonder if you both really would make it out of here alive.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @justsisse @djarindroid @angelofbooksworld @taivantaylor @sherlocke3d @sassyyoyo @mysatnin @basquiat-top @urmomsg1rlfreind @belladonna-303 @seunghyunwifey

[markleessodalite]

Loving You in Little Ways: NCT Dream

headcanon: how do the dreamies express their love for you in those small, almost unnoticed ways?

warnings: none :D its all fluffy baby

Mark:

Your humor becomes his.

Not only does he start stealing your jokes to use on his own friends, he also finds humor in things that might not have amused him before, just because they make you giggle.

Mark is already someone who thinks everything is funny, so how lucky is he to meet you, someone who finds humor in every situation?

There is rarely a time you two are together that you don’t have him in fits, and he thinks everyone should be able to experience the pure laughter and joy that you bring him.

(although his friends would argue that the jokes are not nearly as funny when he’s the one delivering them)

Renjun:

He gets you everything you need before you ask. Even before you realize you need it.

If he’s getting out of the shower and notices your moisturizer is a little less than half full, he’s stopping by the store to get you more tomorrow.

If you have the perfect pair of emerald earrings to wear with your dress tonight, but no necklace to match, he’s taking you to the jewelry store before the function.

All your special vitamins, hair care products, your favorite coffee, that one very specific brand of gel pens you use exclusively– whatever it is, Renjun just has a talent for noticing when you need it, and he’s the one to get it for you.

Jeno:

Little touches, anytime, anywhere.

Jeno may not always be super showy when it comes to expressing his love for you. He’s not a grand gestures kind of guy.

But there’s no doubt in your mind how he feels about you when his hands are on you 24/7.

Whether he’s lacing his fingers with yours while cuddled on the couch, pulling on the belt loop of your jeans to pull you in for a quick kiss, or tugging on the sleeve of your coat trying to get your attention off your phone and onto him.

You rarely go for more than a few minutes without feeling his fingers tracing along your body, searching for any little space to settle themselves in.

Haechan:

He wants to invite you to everything.

Sometimes dating Hyuck feels like dating all of his friends, too. If the group is planning to do something together, Hyuck’s first question is whether he can invite you or not.

Sure, it was a little awkward when you were sat on a bench watching them all play basketball, even though you were the only gf there, and you have absolutely no interest in basketball.

But Hyuck just can’t stand the idea of going out and having fun without you! Especially if its something thats not going to be fun– if he has errands to run, he needs you there with him to keep him sane.

If Donghyuck is going literally anywhere, there’s a 99% chance he’s begging you to go with him.

Jaemin:

Jaemin doesn’t love in little ways.

Everything with him is big, and grand, and romantic– and it doesn’t take much for small moments to become big.

One minute you’re cuddling on the couch, the next minute he’s twirling you around, copying the dancers on the tv.

One minute you’re sharing a soda in the kitchen, the next minute he’s cooking an extravagant meal for you to share at a candlelit table.

Jaemin has such a talent for making a random weeknight feel like the pinnacle of a romantic holiday, for turning microscopic sparks into fireworks, that you’re sure he somehow plans every single moment of your time together beforehand.

In reality, Jaemin just loves you, so truly and dearly, that he doesn’t know how to show it in little ways.

Chenle:

He listens. Particularly, he listens in moments when he’d usually be talking.

Chenle loves to talk, to discuss, to gossip, to yap on and on and on, and its certainly no different around you.

But in the quieter moments, when its just the two of you, he’s not talking or discussing or gossiping. He’s hanging on your every word, listening to you as if your story about an almost-forgotten high school memory is sacred scripture.

He takes everything you say to heart, which is how you discovered he’s a little more sensitive than you initially thought (and now you know not to joke about those few little things that make him tick).

He listens to you, drinking in every string of poetry that falls from your lips, and he remembers, ingraining every detail into his own brain until he knows you better than you know yourself.

Jisung:

He stares. He just kinda… stares at you.

You thought it was weird at first, especially when you would catch him and he’d immediately look away as if he’d just broken some unspoken rule.

Eventually you realized this staring was more a symptom of Jisung not totally knowing how to show you he loves you.

He’ll notice your hands close to each other while walking at night, and he’ll think about how he wants to hold it. Then he’ll think about whether he should hold it or not. Maybe you wouldn’t want him to, or maybe if he reaches for it you’ll pull away at the same time and it’ll be awkward…

and that’s when you notice him looking down at you a little too long, leaving you wondering what he’s thinking.

Of course, him being a little timid about affection isn’t the only reason he stares at you. He also finds you quite pretty– utterly captivating, actually, which is the main reason why he can’t stop looking at you.

[hwajin]

☆°. — burn me | hhj

genre: smut

pairing: nerd!hyunjin x afab!reader

wc: 3k

cw: wax/ heat play, dacryphilia, hyunjin is insanely needy

author's note: this hyunjin is @astraystayyh 's and hers ONLY. (she holds a gun to my head forcing me to say this)

You had wanted Hyunjin to speak to you. To reach out to you, to tell you things about himself. You knew he was shy, and you liked that about him. You liked when his ears shot red because you gave him a simple compliment, to his new computer set-up, or how very eloquently he helped you out with your Statistics homework. You liked how his body jolted when you touched him, when your fingers tickled him featherlight while he was studying, head deep in a book. You liked it even more when you teased him beneath the table when you dined out, a leg of yours creeping up his trembling one, and when he looked at you as though you were crazy. As though you were doing something so very forbidden, as though he never wanted you to stop.

But you had told him that you wanted to know more. That, yes, you could often read his face, his eyes, his body as it was, that he was an open book regarding his feelings, his preferences – sexual or not – his moods; but that it wasn’t enough. You wanted him to tell you if he was having a bad day, if he was struggling with the pressure he put on himself. You wanted him to tell you if he was feeling good, when you let your fingertips dance delicately across his stomach, tracing the lines of his faint muscles, wondering where they came from with the lack of exercise and the hours spent in front of his computer. You wanted to know if there was something he wanted to do, he craved to try, dreamed of at night. What he thought about when he lay alone in his bed, on nights you couldn’t spend together, what went through his mind when he closed his eyes and touched himself. You wanted him to spell it out. To tell you. To get past his futile embarrassment and open himself up to you.

You were looking at the package in your hands as you were sitting at the edge of Hyunjin’s bed. Perplexed. Curious. The water hitting the tiles in the other room reminded you that your boyfriend would take a while to come out, always preferring long showers, always waiting for the stream to turn cold before he considered reaching for the towel; so you were left figuring out the contents of the package yourself.

Wax. Massaging wax. Wax which looked too… sensual to be put on his windowsill and lit on romantic evenings. Wax which he had ordered for different purposes, you were sure.

And you knew you were right when Hyunjin, not fifteen minutes later, stood in front of you, stuttering, flushed, the redness on his cheeks spreading all around, his glasses still fogged up from the condensation in the bathroom. It didn’t help his embarrassment that he had chosen to only throw around a towel over his waist; you liked that. You liked that he deemed clothes as nihil after his showers; you both knew that whenever he was done studying, long past midnight, clothes would discard themselves from your bodies in mere minutes, anyways. You liked that though he was shy, he granted himself to you in a certain way, gifted you a part of his vulnerability. That he wasn’t afraid to be loved by you.

“Listen, I wanted to tell you…”, he started. But he didn’t make it far. Words failed him, the heat on his face distracted him. He couldn’t even look you in the eyes; and you hadn’t even said anything. You had only watched him, knowingly, before he had sat down on the bed, next to you, face in his hands to hide his embarrassment. Mumbling apologies you giggled at, because “Why? You did nothing wrong?” You couldn’t help but tense at the sound which escaped him at that, a faked sob, a deep whimper, something between that and an embarrassed laugh before he bent his body further into his arms. Hiding himself. Exposing himself. Because the skin on his back moved with him as he did, and you wanted to touch it. Because the skin on his stomach folded into million creases, tummy soft and protruding, and you wanted to kiss it.

“No, but I feel like I should have told you, before… before I just order something you might- like- end up not being into. And…”, he looked at you then, barely. Glanced at you from beneath the confines of his arms, glasses sitting on his nose crooked. The look in his eyes when he struggled to find the bravery to speak, to admit. “I’m not even sure I’m into… wax play; heat play. Whatever. I wanted to… try it. On myself- by myself. Before we tried it together.”

You chuckled, and he closed his eyes in pained expression again. You could say you had never seen him so crimson, but that would be a lie; you saw him so crimson every day, whenever you tickled a confession out of him by kissing the lobe of his ear, or when you sighed out how good he felt when he found himself hovering over you, inside you. Quite frankly, you saw him dripping in red more than you saw his actual skin, and it made you chuckle at him again.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, love. And you don’t have to- like, know exactly what you’re into to tell me it’s something you wanna try. We can experiment together.”, you said while sliding closer to him along the mattress. You felt the heat of his body radiating over to your own, and you nudged his shoulder slightly with your head. Made him glance at you again, from the side. You smiled at the smile he granted you, giggled then, to soothe him some more. Your shy lover. Your lover who bore secrets so erotic and deep you feared to never get behind them all in this lifetime.

“And besides, it’s more fun together.”, you ended with a playful wink, and Hyunjin’s whine turned into a laugh, and it sent a shiver along your neck, behind your ears.

It’s how you found yourself over his body. Watching his limbs spread across the bed, his fingers digging into the pillow beneath his head, the knuckles white. It made his arm tense up, made his veins shine blue in the relative darkness of the room. Ignited only by candles. Smelling only of vanilla. And his body. And sex.

When the first drip of hot wax had spilled on his naked body, close to his navel and so red against his pale skin your eyes had fluttered, Hyunjin had hissed. He had jumped in his place, a big palm reaching for you and long fingers digging into your flesh. You had asked if he was okay; he had looked almost concerned, and you’d been sure he’d tell you to stop. To just try something different. That it didn’t feel like he’d imagined it to. But then he’d raise his head a little, and his eyes had searched for yours; and you knew he had loved it. You knew that a little more of this, and he’d be a puddle in his own mattress, a wet, whining, desperate puddle in your hands.

Now, his lips were as red as the dried wax all across his body. Scattered here and there, two drops on his collarbone, perky and bony whenever he moved. Three drops on his chest, dangerously close to his nipples; he had whined particularly loud at those. The drops formed a path to his sex, scattering the skin there the most. On the lines by his abdomen, the dips in his hips, pooling there. Cracking at his thighs because he moved so much, squirmed under you uncontrollably. Hyunjin had spread his legs somewhere in the process; he was so needy, so lost in chasing after his pleasure that he lost himself, found himself in your eyes and grew bashful. You had taken the opportunity, had seen the supple flesh of his inner legs, so close to his darkened erection, that you let a few drops fall there. And Hyunjin had screamed. He had bitten the back of his hand, remembering the other students in the dorm. Had forgotten all about them in a manner of seconds when you did it again, let wax meet the sensitivity of his skin, and he had cried your name. Had writhed and groaned into the pillow beneath him. Had struggled finding his glasses when he’d lay on his back again.

You watched his bent arm, the way he was digging his fist into the space between the pillow and his hair. Struggling. Whining. Constantly whining; he wasn’t ever quiet now. His eyes were shut, making his face crease and contort, his teeth fletched, so the feeling of heat on his biceps was a surprise, and he yelped at it. It trickled closer to his armpit, and when it tickled, he shivered. A moan so throaty ripped through the room that you felt your clit throb, your stomach twist. And then Hyunjin sobbed, in frustration, or in pleasure, or due to sensations even deeper, emotions even greater. He sobbed, dryly, because he seemed overwhelmed of what else to do, and it made you kiss him. You bent down to peck his chest, to nibble at his collarbones. You kissed his neck, licked it, breathed in the scent of the vanilla candle there, of his sweat. You tickled his jaw with your breath, as hot as the wax, or hotter, felt him pant, felt him whine. You kissed his chin wetly, with an open mouth, leaving traces of you everywhere, traces of spit next to the traces of wax, a body traced in love. Because his body was made for it. To be loved, adored. To be destroyed and put back together.

It was when you kissed his lips, red and puffy and spit-laced and bruised, that you noticed the wet on his pink cheeks. The tears behind his glasses, past his eyes. You halted in your tracks.

“Babe, you okay?”

Eyes shooting open, and Hyunjin caught you off guard when he looked at you; eyes flooded with desire, with you. Bloodshot, reddened. Everything was red, you saw it everywhere on his body. And he nodded. Frantically. Desperately. You didn’t need to ask if he wanted you to stop, you could read it on his face that “Please, please, whatever you do, don’t stop. Never stop.”

So you pulled back again, a smirk tugging at your lips. And Hyunjin flushed when he saw it. You took hold of the candle again, hovered it over him. He watched it. The anticipation made the man suck in a breath, and his abdomen hallowed out. You let wax drip into the dip it created, liked the way it nestled there. As if it belonged there. As if he was made to be painted, to be pleased like this.

„Does it hurt, baby?“

A whine from his mouth, and the glasses on his nose sat so deep. He was sweating, wet all around, and the piece of metal just didn’t want to stay where it belonged. You liked it. Would never, not after half a year of being with him, get tired of the way he fixed them. Though he didn’t now. Now, his glasses where the last thing on his mind. Hyunjin shook his head, then he nodded. Then he shook it again. He couldn’t look at you. He was too shy to.

“N-no… yes. I- hmm… I don’t know- fuck-“

Fingers digging into the mattress, finding your flesh then, marking you with the tips of his fingers, with the sharp of his nails. Mindlessly, he was clinging onto you without knowing he was. Because he needed you. Because his body was calling for your own.

“Why are you crying, then?”

Another tear of his fell gen his temple just as you let another droplet of wax meet his skin; it was so close to his sex, tangling with his pubes as it trickled further down that you were sure it pained, but his reaction was heavenlier than anything you could have imagined; a cry of your name and he sobbed it, every syllable, every letter. More tears were rolling past his eyes. He was calling out to you, for salvation, for more, for less, for everything. And the muscles beneath his skin were trembling; you believed you could see it. He was vibrating, he was hot. He was red all around; his erection the most aggressive tone of them all, the white precum so pearly, so white in contrast. You wanted to lick it off.

“I- I don’t know. Because- fuck, ohh my god-“, heavy breathing, heaving chest. Hyunjin knew you better than leaving the question unanswered, though. Was too eager to leave a question simply hang in the air. “Because it feels so fucking good.” He didn’t look at you when he said it. He reddened deeper when he said it. The sweat on his forehead thickened when he said it.

“Yeah? Does it?”

He nodded, nodded and nodded so hard his glasses dared to fall off. He didn’t care. He continued nodding, until you chuckled. Then he looked at you. His eyes were so clear, so shot with pleasure. They were saying everything his mouth couldn’t, was shy to. You shivered in his gaze; how could a man so beautiful be so unaware of it?

“And because- because I’m so embarrassed.”

He whispered the words. He looked at you so intently; because he knew you’d ease him off. He was aware that his shame was futile, that it was never justified. And you knew that a part of him liked it. That sometimes, a man as smart as him enjoyed to turn dumbfounded in your hold. That the lack of thoughts, the struggle to find words when he was around you, reminded Hyunjin of the effect you had on him. It reminded him how much you liked it; when he started stuttering, when he forgot what he was talking about, when his only affections, his only obsession was you.

You chuckled, face smitten, lashes batting at him. He whimpered, bit the back of his hand when he felt the wax near his erection. It was so hard. And he was so close; if you didn’t touch him soon, he thought, he would come undone without any contact at all.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed about feeling good, baby. You can let go when you’re with me. Don’t be shy about feeling good when you’re with me.”

Hyunjin thought this was his demise. His hell and heaven simultaneously, that it was in your hands he would die, in your hands he would be reborn again.

He pleaded you. Silently first, then with a trembling word; he needed you. He had never needed you more than now. He put his embarrassment to the side, took to heart what you always wished of him; to tell you what he wanted. To tell you what he needed.

“You, babe. I need you, I can’t, I- fuck, please, baby, please. I need to feel you, please.”

You had never heard him beg this way. Had never seen such lust in his eyes. You had never been so wet, not for him, not for anyone. He had the ability to break you, and he wasn’t even aware of it. Laying in the nude before you, traces of wax and spit and love on his body, and he didn’t even know you were as obsessed with him as he was with you.

Your panties and shirt were discarded quicker than either of you could look. You were hovering over him, and Hyunjin swore your pussy was hotter than the wax, than the fire burning it down. Before you sank down on him, he stopped you, numb fingers caressing your waist. He whined, writhed. He couldn’t look at you, he mumbled something. It wasn’t until you put a thumb on his chin and made Hyunjin look at you that he reddened, again, always reddening. He was breathing heavy when your eyes met. So heavy that you felt the warm condensation of it on your fingers. It was shaky, he was shaking.

“I’ll come. Like, right away. I’m already coming, I think.”

The confession knocked the breath out of your lungs. For someone so shy, so bashful about the slightest touch, the most innocent contact his words were always marked with an eroticism so great, so honest. No one had ever talked to you the way he talked to you; despite his shyness, despite his hesitations.

You assured him, kissed him, pecked his lips. They were hot, wet. They were dripping with his love for you.

And then you positioned yourself above him, and when you took hold of his base to guide him against you, when you felt him slide past your wetness and into you his hands dug into your flesh, so deep into your waist it hurt, but you didn’t mind it. It was his face you were focusing on; heavenly. As though he had found heaven. He was coming, hard, jolting his trembling hips against you; he was merely grinding against your pussy, against your clit, not much penetrating even, and yet he looked as though he had never felt a pleasure bigger than this. Eyes rolling back, violently. Lip bleeding between his teeth. Spit spewing when he cursed deeply, throaty. Sweat running down his temples, your waist because his palms coated you in it. In him. His scent, his wetness.

And you watched the red traces on his body. The pale colour on his cheeks, the feverish one on his lips. The deep, sensual one on his chest and stomach and abdomen, the bit on his biceps, the dried and flaked red wax. Only memories of it remaining when you’d wash it off later in the shower, when the morning sun would almost come out again. When you’d kiss him there later, after he’d come down, in the spots the wax had been, to soothe skin, to comfort him. And the wax would stand by his nightstand, proof and witness of the past hours, of Hyunjin’s desire, of your love.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @ppiri-bahng @cherrrywon @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @junebug032 @noellllslut @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @astraystayyh

[somethingsomethingbagoo]

But wait, no that’s kinda the point though. A lot of what earnest divination magic entails is in the ability to gain more insight on yourself. Even used just as therapy tools things like pendulums, tarot cards, runes give other parts of yourself the ability to speak up for themselves more clearly so that the subconscious can become conscious. And in doing so we can make more informed decisions about our own lives.

We are very good at making up stories and reasonings in ours heads telling ourselves what we’re “really” feeling and why. But our conscious minds only hold part of the story (usually the part that’s driven by fear because it’s trying to keep you safe from the terrors). But sooo much more goes on behind the scenes.

Our brains keep running even when our thoughts stop. Our bodies are constantly sending us signals that we often intentionally ignore. And of course there’s our intuition that’s always trying to speak to us.

Divination tools aid those parts in creating and communicating new stories and tap into new feelings, (ideally more accurate ones) that were always there to begin with, about who you are and where your true motivations lie.

So yes, you can definitely fake something like a pendulum swing to give you the answers you’d prefer and continue lying to yourself and others. But if you’re able to engage honestly with it, clear your mind and allow your subconscious, your first instincts to lead the way, you may just gain some new insights that you didn’t previously have access to.

When I was a kid I had a book of like, "fun physics experiments for kids". And one of them was an "experiment" where you hold an object by a string and just by focusing on the direction you wanted it to swing, it would start to move in that direction even without your input. The book of course explained that this was the ideomotor effect, a phenomenon where your thoughts can create minute, unconscious movements in your body.

Then a couple years later I got a fortune-telling kit that included a pendulum. You hold the pendulum over a piece of paper that says "yes" and "no" and ask a question, and whichever way the pendulum moves is the answer.

At which point I was like "hey WAIT a minute", and in hindsight I think that experience explains most things about who I am as a person

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: 10 fun facts about your future spouse

Hello and welcome to this new reading! I will tell you 10 fun facts about your partner/future spouse. I hope you all enjoy it!

FREE READING: a subscription to my Patreon before February 7th, no matter the tier, will give you a free question of choice. I updated the overall look of my patreon so feel free to look!

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Subliminal Channel > PATREON Masterlist [NEW]

The extended version (10 more fun facts) of this reading can be found on my Patreon, the link of which is here

~pick a card~

Pile 1:

1. They would love to draw you as their muse;

2. They enjoy shows that have incredibly dangerous and insane stunts (because why would you want to do that);

3. They can be very catty when it comes to their words if they’re annoyed; giving shade like a high-schooler;

4. They love their alcohol, but it has to be a specific kind;

5. They enjoy beautiful gardens and would love to have one to tend to themselves (but they aren’t good at it at all, you’ll probably be helping in the future);

6. Your future spouse loves thinking back to their high-school times with old friends, re-experiencing all of it;

7. Your future spouse is open to learning from mistakes and growing from past experiences;

8. Your future spouse would love to sleep in the forest with you sometimes; just you two, or your little family if you two have kids, in the forest with some fire and marshmallows on sticks;

9. They think a fun date in the future for the two of you would be picking fruits from trees;

10. They love acting as a joke; they have a whole alter-ego.

Pile 2:

1. Your future spouse enjoys driving cars a lot; they love the feeling it gives them;

2. They have a very small friend group (around 2 friends), but they’re so close they’re basically siblings;

3. Your future spouse has a tendency to let things go their way and just see what happens, even if preparing would’ve been a better idea;

4. Your future spouse will constantly giggle if they’re drunk;

5. They really enjoy cats, and most of guys their future spouse’s have had a cat when they were younger;

6. They find celebrating birthdays difficult and will act a bit ‘against’ it, but secretly they do enjoy it;

7. Your future spouse is good at imagining things (they prefer to imagine fantasy scenario’s);

8. Your future spouse loves being with friends and having a fun drink;

9. They will be causing mayhem to get a reaction out of you simply because they are bored;

10. They have a decent amount of influence on people; but they only really use it to fuck around and have fun.

Pile 3:

1. Your future spouse can enjoy a good book every once in a while;

2. They enjoy stargazing through windows something (they don’t prefer the outside often, given they get cold very quickly and dislike a ton of layers in order to do so);

3. They like circuses;

4. Your future spouse sometimes has nightmares, they’ve had this their whole lives. They have more then usual, and enough to be an issue in their lives;

5. Even though your future spouse will claim they’re not superstitious at all, they will always make a wish at a falling star;

6. Your future spouse loves to think about moral problems;

7. They would enjoy it to have a fish as a pet;

8. They’d like to sit in a dark forest alone and not do anything; they see the situation as something very peaceful and nice;

9. Your future spouse is very detail-oriented;

10. Your future spouse is often at the back near a wall at bigger gatherings, preferring to see everything instead of standing in the middle of it all.

[webbluvrsugar]

earlyseasons!spencer making you squirt.

cw: doesn’t mean sub!spencer, it’s more like eager Spencer experimenting on reader, written mostly for funsies.

Every since you and Spencer have been messing — fucking — around, you’ve noticed that he’s been a little shy, at least at first, his touch has been gentle but also… experimental, the way he looks at you when you’re under him and pushes you just a little harder almost makes you feel like like he’s studying you, testing something on you. But he’s a profiler, he’s learned that you don’t mind, so when he comes with the proposition of trying to make you squirt, you’re doubtful, specially as he pushes you down on your bed — already naked.

“Spencer, you don’t really need to do this, I —“ you try to speak but he’s quick to interrupt you, his hands running down your thighs.

“I know, I just.. I just want to try something new, just for a bit,” he hushes, eyes looking up to you for approval as he puts away his glasses and when Spencer says ‘just for a bit’ he is indeed just… lying, lying to your face.

His tongue licks a fat strip up your folds, it’s bold, something that he’d at first would hesitate to do, gently circling your clit before he attaches his lips onto it, gently sucks and his fingers go up to spread you further.

Spencer’s tongue feels good, but by now, you know that he would’ve already tried to stick a finger or two in you, but he doesn’t, it almost seems like he’s trying to reach this personal goal of his all with his mouth, and he’s doing a good job at it, because his tongue prods at your entrance and you arch your back, softly moaning, head throwing back and meeting your pillow.

“How does that feel?” He questions as if you need to answer for him to know it.

But still, you nod again, “Good,” you whisper, hand going down to grab at the sheets.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He grins, cocky, before his mouth latches onto your cunt again.

He devours you, nose bumping into your clit as his tongue precisely chooses where to run through, your breath being taken from your lungs when it caresses your insides one more time, the warm tip of the muscle moving within you.

“Spence,” you whimper, your knees struggling to keep themselves in place as he pulls back and pays attention to your swollen pearl one more time.

“Close?” He asks, tongue licking up a few more times through your folds, trying to get all up in there.

“Mh — Mhm,” you moan, a pleased sigh following suit.

“Did you know that —“ he pauses, “statistically, only thirty-five to fifty percent of women have experienced squirting mid sex—“ he presses an open mouthed kiss to your cunt. “But it depends on the method, I’ve read about it, we can try and see if this will be the one for you.”

And for someone who’s so used to talking, Spencer finally goes to quiet after a while and focus on your pussy, paying extra attention to what you like, guiding himself with your moans and gentle curses.

“Spence—“ with that, he thinks this really might be his chance of getting you to do it the first try, so his lips wrap around your clit one last time, only letting go when he hears a hushed cry of his name escape your lips— “Spencer!” A stream of fluid expels from you, and he watches in awe, slightly tilting his head as your body shivers and writhes right before him.

His hands gently caress your thighs, fingers letting go of your folds, his eyes finally meeting yours when you take a breath and before you can speak, he notes;

“Let’s do it again, maybe you’ll do it quicker if I actually use my fingers…”

[americanredragger]

You are not remembering wrong. Hiter's support overwhelmingly came from those who were hoping he would restore Germany to prosperity. The hate he sold wasn't REALLY the thing that appealed to people at first inasmuch as it gave them an outsider to rally against and as such feel like they were part of a "German Community".

As Hitler's quick fixes that initially DID stimulate the economy ultimately failed to produce long-lasting benefits, the Hate increasingly became The Thing he could still sell people to keep them from aiming at him, but eventually he pretty much HAD to to declare war because he nor anybody in his circle were real economists and while several were businessmen, none understood how to run a NATION's finances because the two were such different concepts. In the end, Hitler devolved into the basest tyrant: declaring war upon his neighbors so he could loot them for everything that wasn't nailed down, and lying constantly about it to his people as he told them it was for a higher cause and to make Germany feared and respected again.

And because they had trained themselves to never question anything Dear Fuhrer said or did, teaching themselves to justify everything ("If he did it, he didn't do it, if you saw it, you didn't see it, if you THINK you saw it, you saw something else, and really all this should be interpreted differently because he was just joking/pumped up from the speech/caught up in the moment" before eventually just calling detractors liars and burying all the evidence), they believed him, being no longer able to think critically or realize that they'd been had by a con man who really didn't know what he was doing. Because they believed him, mothers poisoned or drowned their children at the end of the war because they didn't want their children to grow up in a world without the Fuhrer to light the way. Whole families committed suicide, and it wasn't JUST out of fear of what the Russians would do to them.

Hitler's very first and very last victims were the German People themselves, who he had to dupe suicidally completely, just to make sure they would rather kill anyone else, including themselves, than kill him if they ever figured out he couldn't actually deliver. And they did.

Yo, correct me if I am wrong please, but didn't Hitler rise to power because he promised to fix the German economy and people really liked that so they looked past everything else he was doing??? Like exactly what's happening in America right now???

So many people said they voted for Trump, put a truly evil person in power, because he said he'd fix the economy, and a little voice in my head is going, "Isn't that what happened with fucking Hitler??"

But I've seen no one point that out so maybe I'm miss remembering???????