#promote real-time connectivity

[ifourtechnolab-nl]

REMOTE WORK - OPPORTUNITIES AND CHALLENGES FOR DEVELOPMENT COMPANIES | iFour Technolab

One of the challenges that remote employees of Software Development companies face is overwork. It becomes difficult to balance work and life when it is under the same roof. Even though working from home means working on different days or hours, and being flexible. But some employees tend to spend more time on work during the day which is not required. Due to this, they feel exhausted, sleep-deprived, and lack of personal time.

The workload does not allow the employee to focus on the essential tasks and leads to a significant decrease in productivity.

[22degreehalo]

I'll say it as many times as it needs to be said. There is absolutely miniscule actual harm that comes from engaging with Harry Potter in 2024. JK Rowling does not need money. Anything sent her way is less than a rounding error. And the book series was literally EVERYWHERE in the 90s and 2000s. Like it or not, it DID impact a whole generation of people - pretending that never happened is completely absurd, if not outright irresponsible. It happened. It's just a fact. Harry Potter is mainstream. There is nothing that can be done to 'promote' it. It's already there.

What all this obsession with HP on tumblr is about? An easy way to smugly define Good People from Bad People. Because if you *really* cared about trans people enough, you'd hate everything associated with Harry Potter. Regardless of how much you adored it when you were 8 and went to Harry Potter parties with your family all dressed up quoting book lines at one another in your most precious childhood memories because for once your special interest actually aligned with the people closest to you. No, all those positive associations should have been deleted instantly. If you *cared enough*, it would just *happen*.

Which is why a whole slew of people who previously had earnestly reblogged posts about Moral OCD and how bad tumblr can be about it were suddenly cackling about how buying Hogwarts Legacy was comparable to *refusing to throw The One Ring into Mordor, starting a war that would kill millions.* And how donating to a pro-trans charity (an act that would have VASTLY more impact than aforementioned rounding error) is comparable to 'donating to a pro-elf charity' in the wake of that.

Because tumblr doesn't actually give a shit about autistics or OCD sufferers. When we complain about stuff that they also dislike, they proudly reblog that and rage in the notes about how selfish and cruel and Individualist those other people on tumblr are!!! But the *second* they get to paint themselves as the ones with '''''good thoughts and feelings'''''' they take it, and make up posts about how HP likers 'believe they're the main character and everything should revolve around them.'

Is it actually about whether something causes harm? Or is it about dividing the world into Inherently Good People and Inherently Bad People? Is it actually about doing real good for the community and making the world a better place? Or is it about shaming people with the Wrong Emotions until they fucking hate themselves and spend hours upon hours ruminating on end trying to change themselves because their inability to let go of positive Harry Potter feelings is OBVIOUSLY evidence of a truly inescapably evil and cruel and wretched identity that the world would be better off without?

Which is it, actually? When it actually feels a little bit good to feel like you're on the Right Side of all of this, for once?

[syrips]

people who dislike ai really need to hype up less-popular/unconventional artists and creators more. the amount of pet peeves i get from 'oh i love non-ai stuff' but the lack of support drives me so insane

you dont like ai art? how about you focus and show off that WIP, that messy creation, and that taboo art that you know is personal, intimate, and the work of someone who isnt ai, then?

how about you stop bashing ai's uncanny formula for 'perfection' and you praise people who post and share their creations, regardless of how professional or conventional it may not look?

for all the hundreds of thousands of notes on 'anti-ai' posts, it drives me insane at how little a 'cringey', unneat, immersive, intimate, 'obviously-created-by-a-beginner' type of creation gets.

like please, i know theyre kind of separate things, but can you at least prove you dislike ai by promoting non-ai stuff more? especially the beginner/intermediate/'obviously-human' ones?

[inklingofadream]

Probably very long ramble about age, job experience, etc for the OG Archives gang (teen jon au ppl get tentatively excited)

Martin's birth year is pretty solidly 1987, because when he says he's 29 we have a semi-solid date for that; Jon is roughly the same, because he claims to be turning 38 in the birthday tape, in 2015 or '16, adding 10 to either his new or former age (as Sasha died in July 2016, but we don't know when exactly Jon's birthday is [unless you are a Jonny Sims just gave Jon his own birthday and never changed it as Jon became a v separate character, in which case Jon's birthday would be November 3, 1988]). Assuming a Bachelor's degree and on-time graduation, he would have graduated in 2009. He started at the Institute in 2011, and may or may not have had an office job in the two years in between. Or maybe he graduated late to make my life easier!

Martin left school to work full-time when he was 17, eventually landing his job at the Institute. Given that the search took long enough for him to decide he wouldn't be able to get the kind of money he needed on the back of his real CV, I would guess that he had some prior work experience, part-time stuff possibly dating back to before he quit school and similar stuff in between dropping out and getting hired at the Institute. He was working at the Institute in 2009, when he would have been 22, meaning a maximum of 9 years of other work experience. Realistically, I don't know that his mother's health was pressing enough for him to have started working at 13, but 15, when there would be fewer restrictions (and also because very few 13 year olds can pass for older, at least consistently). He had to get desperate enough to work up to lies as big as a master's in parapsychology (I'd assume he tried to pass with a Bachelor's of whatever first? Or maybe he was just tailoring his fake credentials to the posting's minimum requirements). Regardless, my assumption would be that he had a couple years of experience in customer service roles of various description.

Tim has a Bachelor's degree and was in publishing in 5 years before Danny died. Assuming 4 years to finish his degree (and he graduated with the highest honors possible, thank you Wikipedia page about UK degree classification) and the publishing job being his first job after graduation, he would be 31 in 2013, for a birth year of 1982, five or six years older than Jon and Martin and the only one of the four we know for certain has experience with a non-Institute office job.

Sasha is an information void (😭). She worked in Artefact Storage for 3 months, spent an unknown amount of time in Research, and transferred to the Archives with Jon. My inclination is to put her a bit older than Jon and Martin, but not more than a few years older than Tim. Call it 30 to 35 at the start of the show. We can guess at prior experience based on her behavior, but I don't know that that's a great indicator. Publishing is a pretty tough industry, and Tim was still the driving force of the wine in the middle of the workday, with both his bosses thing at the birthday party. I think even before things go bad the Institute is just on the casual side of things. For my purposes, I'm considering the Institute Sasha's primary professional experience.

By which I mean, someone else should benefit from the hour and a half I spent researching this unanswerable question

[stjohnstarling]

Alright, so: I want to explain a little more about this connection between the Twilight fandom, Fifty Shades of Grey, and seemingly, the self-publishing industry as a whole. It's a lot, so I'm going to have to chip away at it a bit at a time, and I think the best place to start is by describing the scene in late 2000s Twilight fandom.

In 2009, Twilight was one of the biggest fandoms in the world, although it was nearly invisible to outsiders because it

Was about a straight couple, while most other fandoms were predominantly gay, and

Was conducted almost entirely on fanfiction.net among a group of people who had little other background in fandom. (x)

That meant for many Twilight fans, Twilight was fandom. It was all they knew, and many had no path out. That also made it a corked champagne bottle with the pressure building.

Because of these community dynamics and the declining quality of the Twilight books themselves, Twilight fanfiction evolved to be mostly AUs so alternate they were more-or-less original romance novels that used Bella and Edward as broad character templates. (x)

Seriously, Twilight fandom got really crazy big for a few years there. It was not totally uncommon to get multi-million clicks on a semi-popular story. It's weird looking back on it and calling it "Twilight fandom" because it was really more like "Romance Novel fandom". For real, for a period there, calling a Twilight fanfic author a 'Twilight fan' would be the ultimate insult. But they never stopped writing about Edward and Bella! It's so weird. (x)

If you were in 2000s era fandom, you're probably aware of the phenomenon of Big Name Fans and the various social-climbing dynamics that happened around them. The Twilight fandom took this social power game another level:

This wasn't even just an author thing. There were Big Name Authors (BNAs) but there were also Big Name Readers. These were basically like... full-time rabid fans of a BNA. They devoted so much of their time to helping out the BNAs, reviewing their chapters, making them fanart, promoting their fics, kissing their asses with cringe-worthy intensity, you name it. Which is why you saw what looked like BNAs having 'employees', such as Moi, tby789's Director of Marketing. (x)

It became apparent that these power games weren't just for fandom clout. The fandom was proving that that social power could be translated into real-world dollars. You see, the Twilight fandom used to organize charity auctions where big name authors would auction off custom fanfiction, and the money generated was substantial:

Mostly authors would auction off stories. So if you donated in my name, I'd write you 10,000 words of porn in my Tattward universe, or something new, etc. That's how it worked. The 2009 auction raised $80,000. The 2010 auction raised $140,000. The 2011 auction raised $20,00. [NOTE: this is likely a typo] (x)

A lot of these dynamics were not unique to the Twilight fandom, but it was the combination that created a perfect storm of opportunism. This would end up changing not just fandom dynamics but the publishing industry as a whole.

[pedroscowgirl]

The Lie Detector Test

Hugh jackman x reader!actress

Warnings!!!: minors dni!!

mentions of: daddy issues , age gap (reader is in their 20s), smut (duh), oral!receiving, p in v, creampie (wrap it up), semi-public sex?, pet names (baby,princess), fluff at the end and lots of romantic kisses

lmk if i missed some!!

Words: 4.3K (i went a little crazy cuz I'm so down bad for this man omg)

A/N: This is the first time in years that I've written a fanfiction so pls be kind 🙈

You had just finished filming the latest blockbuster, and the studio had arranged a promotional event to build hype for the movie. The concept was unique and promised to be a hit: a lie detector test featuring you and Hugh Jackman, your co-star. The aim was to show a fun and candid side of both of you, offering fans an intimate glimpse into your personalities.

You remembered your first day on set with Hugh vividly. It was a sunny morning, and you were a bundle of nerves, excited and anxious about working with such a celebrated actor. Hugh had approached you with his trademark warmth, extending a hand and offering a reassuring smile.

“Hi, I’m Hugh. It’s great to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about your work,” he said, his voice carrying a genuine note of friendliness.

You shook his hand, grateful for his easygoing nature. “I’m thrilled to be working with you, Hugh. I’ve been a fan for a long time.”

From that moment on, your chemistry on set was undeniable. Hugh’s professionalism and charm made every scene enjoyable, and your natural rapport translated effortlessly on screen. Between takes, you found yourselves sharing stories and jokes, the lines between your characters and real life blurring as you formed a close friendship. But behind your confident exterior, you felt a tug of nerves whenever he was near. Hugh Jackman wasn't just any actor; he was the embodiment of the older, charismatic figures you'd found attractive for as long as you could remember.

You had always known you had some form of daddy issues. Growing up with an emotionally absent father, you had a tendency to be drawn to older, authoritative figures. Hugh fit that mold perfectly, and being around him made you acutely aware of your attraction to him. His deep voice, his kind eyes, the way he carried himself with such ease...it all made your heart race.

Fast forward to the day of the lie detector test, the studio was buzzing with excitement. The set was designed to look sleek and modern, with a large, imposing lie detector machine at the center. Cameras were positioned to capture every angle, ensuring that no reaction or subtle expression would be missed by the audience.

You took your seat across from Hugh, who was already connected to the machine by Lou, the lie detector specialist. The studio lights reflected off his charismatic smile as he settled in, ready for the challenge.

“Ready for this, Hugh?” you asked, trying to hide your amusement and the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Just go easy on me, alright?”

You picked up the first question card, the icebreaker questions designed to set a light-hearted tone. You both took turns answering questions about your favorite movies, childhood memories, and behind-the-scenes antics from the movie set. The atmosphere was relaxed, filled with laughter and playful teasing, showcasing the easy relationship that had developed between you two.

Then, feeling a mischievous urge, you decided to go off-script.

“Okay, Hugh,” you said, leaning forward with a twinkle of mischief in your eyes. “How do you feel about people on the internet calling you ‘daddy’ or 'father'?”

Hugh raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the unexpected question. He took a moment to think before answering, “Well, I do have kids., so technically , I am a father.”

You tilted your head and smirked, not letting him off the hook that easily. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Hugh chuckled, a deep, genuine laugh that filled the room. “Well, I don’t mind i guess” he admitted, glancing at Lou for confirmation.

Lou looked at the lie detector’s readings and nodded. “Truthful,” he confirmed.

“Good to know,” you said with a playful wink. “That was actually not a question on the cards. I just wanted to give the people with daddy issues what they want. You're so welcome.”

Hugh laughed again, biting his lip as he looked at you with a newfound appreciation. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You felt a thrill at the way he was looking at you, the playful banter taking a more intimate turn. “Just keeping things interesting,” you replied, your voice softening. Your heart pounded harder, realizing just how much he affected you. You could feel your palms sweating and hoped he wouldn't notice the slight tremor in your hands as you reached for the next question card.

The rest of the session continued in a similar vein, with flirtatious comments and lingering glances exchanged between questions. Each time Hugh's gaze lingered on you a bit longer, your heart raced a little faster. You tried to focus on the questions, but your mind kept drifting to the way he looked at you, the way his voice seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket.

----------------------------------------------------

As the interview came to an end, you both stood up, removing your microphones. The studio crew began to pack up, the hustle and bustle of the set slowly fading into the background. Hugh caught your eye and gave you a small, knowing smile.

“Hey, why don’t we head to the dressing room? We can talk more privately there,” he suggested, his voice carrying a hint of something more.

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Sure, sounds good.”

You both made your way through the winding corridors of the studio, your footsteps echoing in the quiet halls. As you approached the dressing rooms, the anticipation grew, every glance exchanged between you filled with unspoken tension.

Hugh opened the door to his dressing room, allowing you to step inside first. The room was cozy, with comfortable chairs and a small table with snacks and drinks. You took a seat, trying to calm your racing heart as Hugh closed the door behind him, shutting out the world outside.

He turned to you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You were great today,” he said, his voice low and sincere. He walked over to the small table and picked up a bottle of water, offering it to you. “Here, have some water. You’ve earned it.”

You accepted the bottle gratefully, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. The cool water was refreshing, helping to steady your nerves. Hugh sat down across from you, his gaze never wavering.

“You know,” he said, his tone turning playful, “I think you might be even more captivating off-screen than on. It’s quite a talent.”

You choked on your water, caught off guard by his flirtatious comment. Coughing slightly, you set the bottle down and tried to regain your composure. “Thanks, Hugh,” you managed to say, your cheeks flushing. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Hugh chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m glad to hear it. I was hoping I wasn’t being too forward.” He paused, letting his eyes sweep over your outfit. “That dress, by the way, is incredibly sexy. It’s been hard to concentrate all day.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, the compliment sending a rush of heat through you. “I—thank you,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks grow warmer. The tension between you crackled like electricity, the air thick with unspoken desire.

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze intense and unwavering. “You really do look stunning,” he murmured, his voice low and husky with that sexy australian accent. “I’ve been wanting to tell you all day.”

You felt a thrill at his words, your heart pounding in your chest. The way he looked at you, the sincerity in his voice, made it hard to breathe. “You’re not too bad yourself, Hugh,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Hugh smiled, a slow, seductive curve of his lips that made your stomach flip. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, his voice a soft rumble. “Because I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

The way he looked at you, the intensity of his gaze, made your breath catch. You could feel the tension building between you, the unspoken attraction simmering just below the surface. His hand moved from your hair to your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt yourself leaning into his touch.

"Hugh," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He didn't reply, but his eyes said everything. He was as caught up in this moment as you were. His other hand came up to cup your face, holding you gently but firmly. You could feel his breath against your lips, warm and inviting. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

His lips hovered just inches from yours, the anticipation almost too much to bear. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the magnetic pull drawing you closer. His eyes flicked to your lips and back to your eyes, seeking permission, waiting for a sign.

You gave the slightest nod, a silent invitation. That was all he needed.

Slowly, as if savoring every second, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss, testing the waters. The contact was gentle, almost feather-light, but it sent a wave of heat through your body. Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

The kiss deepened, growing more confident and demanding. His lips moved against yours with a perfect blend of passion and tenderness, igniting a fire within you. You responded eagerly, your body pressing closer to his, craving more of his touch.

His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you closer still. You could feel the strength in his grip, the possessive way he held you making your pulse quicken. The kiss was everything you had imagined and more, filled with unspoken promises and undeniable chemistry.

When he pulled you closer, you could feel his bulge pressing against you, the sensation igniting a fire deep within. A rush of heat surged through your body, making you aware of how much you craved him. Every nerve seemed to tingle with anticipation, and the space between you crackled with unspoken desire.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer as his lips captured yours in a heated kiss. The intensity of it made your knees weak, and you pressed yourself against him, desperate for more. You could feel the evidence of his arousal, hard and demanding against your stomach, and it only fueled your longing. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you couldn’t resist the urge to touch him, to feel every part of him.

Your breath quickened, each inhale filled with the intoxicating scent of him. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, sliding down his chest, over the taut muscles, until they reached his belt. Your fingers fumbled in your eagerness, trembling with the intensity of your desire. The thought of what was to come made your heart race, and you could feel the slickness between your thighs, a testament to how badly you needed him.

Just as you began to loosen his belt, Hugh’s hand covered yours, halting your movements. His grip was firm yet gentle, and the dominance in his touch made you shiver. He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and ragged.

“Nu uh, not yet, babygirl,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. His eyes bore into yours, dark with desire and filled with a fierce determination that made your pulse quicken even more. “I want to please you first.”

The promise in his words made your heart skip a beat, and the anticipation of what he was about to do was almost too much to bear. Your breath caught in your throat, and you let out a soft whimper, the need inside you growing more insistent.

His other hand slid down your body, fingers tracing the curves of your waist and hips, igniting a trail of fire on your skin. His touch was both soothing and electrifying, and you arched into him, silently begging for more. The way he looked at you, with such intensity and focus, made you feel like the center of his world.

“Hugh, please,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breathless plea.

He smiled, a slow, seductive curve of his lips that made your stomach flip. “Patience, sweetheart,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I want to savor every moment.”

Hugh's hands were firm but gentle as he gripped your thighs, lifting you with an effortless strength that made your breath hitch. He set you down on his desk, the cool surface contrasting with the heat radiating from your skin. The room felt charged, every second stretching out as his intense gaze bore into you. Your heart raced, anticipation and desire coiling in your belly. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Can I take a look at your panties and take them off?" he asked, his voice husky and dripping with intent.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you bit your lip, your body responding to his every word. You nodded, eyes wide and lips parted, but he wasn't satisfied with your silent answer. "I need words, baby," he murmured, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. His eyes held a command that you couldn't ignore. "Yes," you finally breathed, voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to take them off, please."

A slow smile spread across his face, sending a thrill through you. He slid his hands under your dress, fingers brushing against your thighs as he lifted you slightly. With deliberate, teasing movements, he peeled your black lace panties down your legs, letting them pool around your ankles. The air felt electric, every touch sending sparks along your skin. His eyes roamed over your now-bare form, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

"Did you plan for this to happen?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge. The question made your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. You met his gaze, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "No," you admitted, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "My granny underwear is in the washing machine." The confession hung in the air, vulnerable and oddly intimate.

Hugh's grin widened, his eyes darkening with amusement and desire. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "I think I prefer the lace," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver through you. The tension between you was unbearable, an unspoken promise of what was to come.

He knelt before you, his eyes dark with hunger and intent. The anticipation made your breath quicken as he placed his strong hands on your thighs, gently parting them and lifting them onto his broad shoulders. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from his, filled with a confident, almost predatory desire. He paused for a moment, giving you a sexy look that sent shivers down your spine, before dipping his head between your legs.

The first touch of his mouth against you was like nothing you'd ever felt. You gasped, your body arching towards him as his warm breath and skillful tongue explored your most sensitive spots. He started slowly, teasing you with soft strokes, his lips and tongue moving with practiced expertise. The sensation was incredible, each flick and swirl driving you wild. When he began to suck on your clit, a moan escaped your lips, the pleasure so intense it felt like fire coursing through your veins.

You'd never been with an older man before, and the thrill of his experience, his confidence, heightened every sensation. His touch was commanding yet tender, a perfect balance that made you melt under his ministrations. His tongue moved in amazing patterns, drawing you closer to the edge with every motion. The excitement of this new experience mixed with the raw pleasure, making your moans louder and more frequent.

Then, without warning, he slipped two fingers inside you. They filled you perfectly, curling just right to hit that sweet spot. The sudden intrusion made you gasp and clutch at his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands. As you tugged, a deep, primal groan rumbled from his chest, the sound vibrating against you. The sensation was intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

His fingers worked in rhythm with his tongue, and you felt a building pressure, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. The combination of his skilled mouth and the fullness of his fingers was overwhelming, pushing you towards the brink. You could feel his own enjoyment in the way he groaned against you, his voice low and resonant, spurring you on. Every touch, every movement, felt deliberate and precise, as if he knew exactly what you needed, where to touch to make you come undone.

As the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, you couldn't hold back. Your hips bucked against his mouth, your hands gripping his hair even tighter. His fingers and tongue moving faster, more insistent. The feel of his mouth and hands on you, sent you over the edge. Your body tensed, and then you shattered, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. The release was overwhelming, leaving you breathless and trembling. He continued to pleasure you through it all, his touch gentle but unrelenting, until you were spent and utterly satisfied.

As you came down from the high, your breaths ragged, he finally lifted his head. His eyes met yours, dark and satisfied, a smug smile playing on his lips. The sight of him, lips glistening with your pleasure, sent a final shiver down your spine.

You were still catching your breath, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, when Hugh pulled back and licked his lips, savoring the taste of you. His eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss. The sensation was intoxicating; you could taste yourself on his tongue, a delicious reminder of the intimacy you'd just shared. His fingers trailed back to your core, seeking to reignite the fire, but you pulled away, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

"Please, Hugh," you panted, your voice laced with desperation. "I'm begging you, I need to feel you inside me right now, or I'm going to go crazy." The urgency in your voice was undeniable,your body aching with unfulfilled desire.

He chuckled softly, the sound a dark, velvety caress that made your skin tingle. "Oh, my poor princess can't wait to have Daddy inside her," he teased, his words dripping with amusement and lust. The nickname sent a shiver down your spine, making you bite your lip. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched your reaction, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

"Oh, so you really like being called Daddy, huh?" you purred, a teasing edge to your voice. "Well, I can arrange that for you." Your words were a playful challenge, a promise of more to come.

Hugh's lips curled into a wicked smile, and he pulled you into another heated kiss, his mouth claiming yours with a possessive intensity. As he kissed you, his hands deftly moved to unbuckle his belt. The metallic clink of the buckle and the rustle of fabric sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. You watched with bated breath as he stripped off his pants and shirt, revealing the chiseled muscles beneath. When your eyes fell on his impressive length, a gasp escaped your lips, louder than you'd intended. The sight of him, so big and ready, made your heart race and your core throb with need.

Hugh noticed your reaction and smirked, a dark, knowing look in his eyes. "It's okay, baby," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "We'll take our time." He reached out, his fingers gently caressing your cheek, the touch tender in contrast to the raw passion between you.

As he stood before you, your eyes roamed over his body, drinking in the sight of his defined abs and broad, muscular chest. You couldn't help but stare at how well-built he was. "God, Hugh," you breathed, your voice filled with awe. "You're so sexy. I can't believe how ripped you are for your age." Your hand traced the lines of his muscles, feeling the hard planes of his torso. "These abs, this body... it's incredible." You looked up at him, biting your lip, the admiration in your eyes unmistakable.

He laughed and positioned himself between your legs, his hands sliding under your thighs to pull you closer. You felt his tip graze your entrance, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through you. You couldn't help but moan, your body arching towards him, craving more. He paused, his eyes searching yours with a mix of concern and desire. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

"Yes," you breathed, barely able to form words. "Keep going, please." Your voice was laced with anticipation and desperation, the need for him overwhelming.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, Hugh began to push inside you. The stretch was intense, a delicious mix of pleasure and pain as he filled you inch by inch. Your nails dug into his biceps, your fingers curling around the hard muscle as you adjusted to his size. "Oh my god, Hugh," you moaned, your voice breathless. "Fuck, you're so big."

A wicked grin spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Call me Daddy, baby," he murmured, his voice a deep, commanding growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Daddy," you whimpered, the word slipping from your lips like a plea. The sound seemed to fuel him, his hips snapping forward, burying himself fully inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and fullness that left you gasping.

As Hugh began to thrust in and out, setting a rhythm that drove you wild, the intensity of the moment heightened. The pleasure was almost too much, your back arching, head tilting back. Hugh noticed, concern flickering in his eyes. He reached up, cradling the back of your head with one strong hand, his touch gentle and protective. "Easy, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Don't want you hurting yourself against the wall." The tender gesture made your heart flutter even as your body surged with lust.

He continued to move, each thrust deep and deliberate, his eyes locked onto yours. The connection between you was electric, every movement synchronized, every breath shared. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he set a slow, torturous rhythm. The pleasure built with each stroke, an intoxicating crescendo that left you breathless and begging for more.

Hugh's thumb found your clit, and he began to rub tight, precise circles, sending jolts of pleasure through your already overwhelmed body. Your breath hitched, the sensation pushing you closer to the edge. His name fell from your lips in a breathless chant, a plea and a prayer. He picked up the pace, each thrust harder, more demanding, driving you wild with need.

"Come for me, princess," he urged, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you come around me."

The combination of his deep, commanding voice and the skillful movements of his fingers and hips was too much. You felt the tension in your body coil tighter and tighter, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. With a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your body convulsing around him as the orgasm tore through you. You cried out, the pleasure so intense it left you shaking.

Hugh groaned, the sound low and primal, as he felt you tighten around him. His movements became erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chased his own release. With a deep moan, he followed you over the edge, his release hot and deep inside you. The sensation sent a final wave of pleasure through your body, leaving you breathless.

As the aftershocks of your orgasms faded, Hugh leaned down and kissed you softly, his lips gentle and tender. The touch was a sweet contrast to the raw, passionate encounter you'd just shared. His hands caressed your skin, soothing you as you both came down from the high, the connection between you lingering in the air.

The room was silent except for your labored breaths, the intensity of the moment leaving you both in awe. Hugh pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, and the soft whispers of comfort and affection made you feel cherished and adored. It was more than just a physical connection; it was a moment of pure, unadulterated intimacy that left you both craving more.

Just as you were catching your breath, a loud knock echoed from the door, making you both jump. You barely had time to react before you heard Ryan's voice, muffled but clear. "Hey, guys, next time be more subtle, okay?" His tone was teasing, but there was no mistaking the hint of amusement. You blushed furiously, burying your face in Hugh's chest as he chuckled softly, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Noted," Hugh called back, his voice laced with humor. He looked down at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Guess we'll have to be quieter next time, huh, princess?" He stroked your cheek tenderly, his expression softening. The playful moment broke the tension, leaving you both laughing softly, the bond between you stronger than ever.

[usedpidemo]

Getting closer (Kang Hyewon)

“All I’m saying is—” Hyewon looks away, drink in hand, taking a little sip, calm and alluring as ever, “if you only want to see me naked, then you could have just said so.”

You widely stare back, silent, indifferent—or at least pretend to be. It’s gotten you a fair amount of awards, after all. It’s not the slightest bit of convincing whatsoever.  

She laughs, softly, as if this was the expected outcome. “So I’m taking that as an admission.” 

Setting down the near-empty wine glass on the bathroom sink, Hyewon attempts to walk away, only to be stopped by a sudden pull. Your hand appears tightly wrapped around her dainty wrist, unwilling to let go. Your eyes aimlessly wander up and down the empty void that is her black dress. There are hardly any thoughts behind that predictably empty head of yours, only the simplest of desires.

You catch the subtlest grin forming on her saccharine lips. You fucking hate how she makes you feel. How she makes your heart race with every exchange.

Despite all the time you’ve spent together, you wish you got to know her better.

—————

The last year and a half of your career has mostly centered around one thing, or in this case, one person: Kang Hyewon. There’s also this drama starring your pairing as co-leads, and you’ve been promoting together, but your names make up more of the headlines than the very show. Your names are synonymously tied together akin to an actual couple.

Unsurprisingly, Hyewon is damn gorgeous. It’s how she’s getting the calls to begin with. Another one of those former singers turned actors looking to be taken seriously within the larger entertainment industry. Most never make it past their first project and fall back on their old careers, with some completely flaming out of the spotlight altogether. She’s an exception. A minor part here, a supporting cameo there—until she’s more than pleasant eye candy. A starlet who knows how to pick what roles would showcase her talents the most. 

She’s the perfect blend of beauty goddess and hotshot young star that the internet can get behind.

So it comes as a surprise when she’s casted as second fiddle to you, the first billing—and everyone comes away talking about her more. The scene stealer. 

(This plucky rival agent, investigating a case your character has been trailing for years, barely scraping by with the thinnest of clues, only for her to uncover the mystery only days after starting the investigation. The writing screams Mary Sue, but she acts convincing and vulnerable enough to escape the scathing think pieces that’s commonly associated with such characters. Not to mention: you both look damn good together on screen and during your public appearances.

It’s a team that sailed a thousand ships—both for your characters and in the real world.)

The consummate professional you are, you don’t think much of it. Your filming experience can only be described as businesslike. Except for the scenes where you’re together on screen, you’ve been separated at arms’ length, only exchanging words between takes to keep any further relationship from developing. It’s only during the press tour where you’ve finally gotten somewhat close.

Perhaps a little too close for comfort. Enough to make video compilations by overzealous fans who think you and Hyewon are really an item. The evidence is everywhere—in interviews, behind the scenes content, and on both your Instagram pages. At least, that’s what they want to believe. Everyone else brushes it off as two hot people being hot together, and not much else.

Here’s the thing: you love Hyewon—that much is true. The question now is: does she love you back?

Thankfully, your duo doesn’t get in the way of the show being lauded, despite making up a majority of its fandom. Positive reviews from both critics and viewers, especially in regards to your chemistry. The connection between you two is one in a million, something that can’t be built over years and years of working together. It also helps your performances sell the dynamic incredibly well—well enough to create those delusional shippers that form the bedrock of your partnership. 

Your names were positioned to go far during awards season. Not the consensus top pick, but as dark horse contenders to steal one every now and then. And while you both won your fair share of accolades, neither of you ended up walking away with the top prize. The conversation during the final ceremony of the year consisted primarily of the media and viewers talking about how your appearances together these last few months—and how you’re a match made in heaven. 

Everyone’s gonna miss this pairing—and so will you.

Now you’re back at square one. Having snuck away from the afterparty currently celebrating the dozen or so awards your show won earlier tonight, you’ve brought Hyewon back to your hotel room. Neither of you cared once you both lost your respective categories. The pundits thought you each only had the slimmest of odds to win, so why bother. Hell, you were both itching to leave as soon as the red carpet concluded. 

It’s all behind you now. You’re finally free from the glitz, glamor, and chaos of these vanity ceremonies and can really focus on what really matters—the pretty girl that you most likely won’t be seeing starring tomorrow. Your careers and interests couldn’t be any further apart: your main focus is movies, while hers are dramas. Both of you remain booked and busy for the next few years with different projects, with not a single one reuniting you two for the foreseeable future.

Back to Hyewon. She’s looking down at her wrist, tightly held by your hand. She allows it. You can feel her pulse. You sense that your hearts are racing in unison, tense and anxious.

“Are you gonna do something?” she questions, daring you to pull the trigger. She knows something you don’t—or maybe you do. You’re blinded by fear to realize it. “The night is fleeting. If not now, then when?”

Her words ring through your head. 

If not now, then when?

The same five words, ordered in the exact same way—etched in tiny letters on her skin.

You still remember everything—frame by frame, down to the last details. On screen, it’s implied. In your mind, it canonically happened. She took her shirt off, exposing herself and the scars of battle, and you were gonna go there. In your characters’ supposed words, ‘Clean’’ in your own unique way.

It was ultimately never shot. Bare minimum of fanservice and completely unnecessary, the director said. 

The tattoo sticks out, not only because of how it's deeply embedded on her otherwise pristine, lithe figure, but also because it represents the last 18 months of your career.

During this period, there are a lot of things that you’ve regret—and will regret. The fact you’ve kept contact with her during filming at a minimum, keeping your interactions strictly between takes and creating a negative air around you in her eyes. The fact it took you so long to exchange numbers, only getting it done during the press tour. The fact that you never return her messages when she constantly reaches out to you, whether through text or on your Instagram. The fact you haven’t thanked her enough times during your acceptance speeches, even when you mention her name in almost every other sentence. If there’s anything you want to admit, it’s that Hyewon is everything.

Most importantly, the fact that you fucking love her, to the point where you’d yearn moments when you’re not beside her—and you still lack the will to confess to her. Even right now. When she’s right at your fingertips.

Perhaps she knows this. The signs were there all along. How she often posts your red carpet photos together and tags you in them. How she also mentions you as much during her acceptance speeches and credits you as a reason for her improvements in acting, even referencing specific advice you’ve given her. The biggest hint, however, are the dresses she’s been wearing to these galas, most evident being tonight. Simple all black, tailor made for her frame, showing off her assets for flaunting to the cameras. 

Earlier, she led you to an empty part of the theater to say something in private. “I wore this just for you,” she said—and from that point, you had to get her alone, whatever it takes.

Really, Hyewon has no intention to leave tonight. She’s just waiting for those magic words. There’s no other logical reason for her to be here, other than for you.

She might as well be holding up a huge signpost with all her requests written in capital letters. 

“If you’re not gonna do anything,” she says, tone casual, slipping one strap of her dress down her shoulder, the one half of the fabric dropping a fair amount. “Then I might as well do it myself. I was hoping you’d take this off me—”

“Stop.” 

You grab her other hand, close to touching the other strap, the dress more than ready to fall down. She raises her eyebrows in amusement. Afterward, she puts the seized hand down, convincing you to release the grip. 

Another win for Hyewon. You’ve lost count as to how many times she’s been messing with you throughout awards season. Probably in the hundreds. Thousands if you count the interviews and little jabs during her speeches. Every mention of your name is an immediate sign of trouble. You can sense she’s enjoying every single moment, relishing the remaining time you have left. Meanwhile, it’s clear on your face that you’re stressed. 

But for what?

“If it hasn’t gotten through your thick skull, then I have no choice but to explain it.” Hyewon climbs atop the bathroom sink, strong enough to lift herself off the ground. She pours the glass with new wine; it’s not meant for you. Her attitude flips instantaneously like a switch, composed and readying herself as if it were another photoshoot. 

Taking a sip of the drink, she pours the rest all over her dress. It serves no purpose anymore. it’s undeniable that she knows what she’s doing. That elegant yet cocky smile is permanently seared into your brain. Someone this haughty shouldn’t be this beautiful and seductive. “You can stand there and waste the night away, or you can do something about it. All up to you.”

You can only sigh. Whether out of wistfulness or annoyance is up for interpretation. You can add taking her back to your hotel room and taking this role in your ever growing list of regrets. When it’s all said and done, it’ll definitely be as long as the career documentary they’ll make about you in 50 years.

What more do you have to lose? 

This will all be behind you soon enough.

You finally stop giving her the cold shoulder. “God, I really wish you weren’t such a tease,” you remark, pulling on the dress strap she previously slid down. “Because otherwise, it would have been so much easier.”

Hyewon seems to have taken your words seriously, because she suddenly kisses you—as in, relentlessly smothers you. Her arms wrap around your neck, slowly pulling you close into an embrace. She smells of alcohol and perfume. An unusual concoction that you can drown yourself in.

“Only if you say the magic word,” she says, gently laughing between kisses. The lower half of your face is full of pale lipstick marks. It was foolish to think she had turned a new leaf, knowing how intentional Hyewon can be with everything.

You’ve really got no other choice.

“I love you,” you confess, but in the smallest audible voice imaginable—hiding that reluctance behind your tone. 

Hyewon pulls herself back, smiling toothily at you, borderline snorting. Her expressions convey the idea that you told her a joke, which it may as well be. 

“That’s it? Doesn’t sound like someone who loves me,” she remarks, tone evidently disparaging.

“Fuck me.” The groan comes out instinctively, as if this wasn’t your first time getting burned like this. Your head is raised to the ceiling, asking the gods for an out.

“That’s my line,” she spouts, her response almost as instantaneous. Wit comes naturally to Hyewon. The countless viewers and interviewers who’ve laughed can speak on her behalf.

“You’re gonna turn everything I say into a joke, are you?” you ask, knowing you’ve willingly fallen for the easiest bait in the entire world.

“You’re gonna turn everything I say into a joke, are you?” she repeats, mockingly imitating your voice, much to your utter chagrin. This isn’t part of some romcom or a sketch. This is real. Everything comes back around to Hyewon. She laughs—basks in your suffering.

It’s the kind of trait that would leave you second guessing whether you really love her or not. As it turns out, the public loves celebrities with a playful sense of humor. Not even you are innocent—you’ve been caught red-handed on camera a few times. Hyewon doesn’t need to reaffirm herself.

But she would love to hear it straight from the source.

“Say it. Say it.” Hyewon is urging you—demanding you—as if it were a matter of life or death. Her hands are everywhere, gripping you by the cheek and the throat like her prized possessions, threatening to choke the life out of you. 

Truthfully, this was coming the moment she stepped through those doors for the first table read. Hyewon’s gravity is inescapable.

“Love you—Hyem, please—” 

Struggling to push back against her hold, you can tell that she’s taking pleasure in every moment she has you like this: wrapped around her finger, so whipped over her that it’s alarming. There’s little use in trying to be coy or subtle. If she wanted you to go down to the afterparty in nothing but your boxers, you’d fold in a heartbeat. She’s the kind of girl you’d happily end up in a scandal with, someone you’d throw your career away in exchange for one timeless night, against the advice of everyone who knows better.

She knows this too. Look at the coy grin spreading on her face. A smile perfect for the front cover of any magazine or commercial. It’s the perfect facade for the attitude hiding beneath.

“I love you Hyem,” you repeat, showing a bit more desperation and sincerity this time. You’re breathing against her neck, the idea of pressing your lips against her skin a dire need. It’s unfortunate you can’t make it look like an accident—as is the idea of your bodies sinking down on the bathroom countertop. “For the longest time, I wanted you, but—”

Only now do you come to the simplest realization: there are no accidents.

Normally, you should feel some shame for being this oblivious. How a girl like Hyewon is giving out all these hints, to the point where she might as well be spreading her legs wide and pointing down at her cunt with a colorful sign. Hell, a thigh is peeking through her dress, pressing on your leg right now. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about working with other actors, it’s that chemistry comes naturally—it can’t be taught.

And your bodies are doing exactly that. The friction between you can’t be any more tense.

“Then show me.” She sighs against your ear, pulling on the topmost button of your suit, pushing down the matching coat. Her leg extends around your limb, goading you to pull away, even though leaving the pretty sight right in front of you is the last thing on your mind. 

You can only breathe. Slow. Hesitant. There's not a lot of hours left, and you’re wasting more by taking your sweet time—resting your gaze on her pale shoulder, admiring all the little details. In essence, you’re doing the complete opposite of what Hyewon wants. She’s showing a little frustration, proving how much better of an actress she is than you. Imagine being in her shoes, beckoning to someone astronomically unaware for months. So much energy and effort could have been saved if she chose to leave you out to dry. If you weren’t so preoccupied with thoughts of her, the many ways this little scene can go, you’d be wondering why she’s this persistent. 

Maybe you’re just as important of a character in her story too, or you’re both stubborn in your own ways. Perhaps both.

None of that is your concern right now. You’re cupping Hyewon’s face, kissing her, nibbling down on her creamy skin, reaching up to her lips by the way of her neck, pulling on the strap of her dress little by little. In response, she’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear, removing your dress shirt one button at a time. It feels like you’re going through the motions, acting under the words of an intimacy coordinator and a director. Slowly but surely, it’s all coming together, until—

“Stop.” 

You pull back, noticing your shirt is nearly undone as you look past her and at the mirror. Both dress straps are halfway down her arms, the fabric a mess, waiting to be swept away. 

You raise an eyebrow, puzzled. “What’s up?” 

Hyewon tilts her head at an angle, unsatisfied. She’s staring at you intently, taking a moment to analyze you like you’re a problem to solve—which you are—before coming to a rather alarming conclusion. “You don’t seem like you want me that bad.”

The remark doesn’t register in your brain. “What do you mean—”

She yanks you forward for a deep kiss, cutting you off. Reciprocating her passion comes naturally—and so does everything else. The movement of your hands, taking lease of her back, tearing through the fabric of her dress, coming back to her cheeks, until you stop feeling cloth and register more flesh. Feeling her skin becomes your new addiction, something you can’t get enough of. 

Watching her other movies—for research purposes—you knew she was well endowed, even when they were not on full display.  Some of her previous gala dresses truly put a spotlight on her cleavage. Part of you thought it was editing trickery, a perfectly taken photo at the right time, or a bra doing the heavy lifting. All three even. But holding them now, with nothing in between, you simply couldn’t believe how well they’ve been hidden from you. 

Her tits fold, go flush, and her nipples stiffen at your touch. They feel so right—as if they were handmade for you.

“God, Hyem—” you breathe out, savoring the sensation of her mounds in your clasp, unwilling to let go. Her taut nipples jerk with every run of your palms. If only you could rest your head between them, but your current position won’t allow you. 

“They feel so good right?” Hyewon moans in response, shedding your unbuttoned shirt off your body and tossing it to the floor, taking lease of your muscles and back. Her dress bunches up around her waist, practically collapsing when she decides to get up from the sink. Although an expected outcome, you’re both surprised that you’ve managed to get each other’s clothes off.

And you’re only getting started.

Pushing you away, Hyewon meets you at your level. Gravity does the rest. She stands before you in nothing but heels. What a mental image to remember her after tonight. She leaves you frozen and trembling, jaw agape, your eyes in a daze, unable to find a place to settle your fleeting gaze on—until she rests her hands around your shoulders. You’re caught up in your own disbelief to meet her lovely gaze and that rather sweet smile, quite the difference from her bare state.

She lifts up a leg, pushing herself onto you for another passionate kiss. Taking advantage, her legs eventually wrap around your waist, bearing all her weight on your grasp. Despite her surprise attack, she’s feathery enough to carry around. It certainly helps that she’s not the heaviest girl you’ve lifted before; you have some experience—mostly unpleasant and usually backbreaking. Still, you’ll treat her like some delicate object that crumbles at the slightest touch. Something—or someone—you can’t ruin, or else you’d be ruined too.

You both end up in the living room, deeply engrossed in a fiery passion that’s too hot for cameras. Lifting her high, your lips find their way to her chest, pressing them in the place where they rightfully belong. Hyewon is stubborn, pushing your head further up to meet your lips in a direct, frantic kiss. Back and forth, you take turns between her tits and her lips, unintentionally slamming her against a wall, eliciting a few yelps out of her. 

It doesn’t bother you both in the slightest. You hold her there, kissing down her abdomen and ribs, coming to the tiny inked part of her figure. The same tattoo that’s been ingrained in your head since you first saw them.

You mutter the very words against her skin. 

“If not now, then when.”

They’ve never been so relevant till right now. You softly kiss the ink, silently thanking her for saving you from a lifetime’s worth of regret.

Hyewon winces, throws her head back, moans up to the ceiling. Her nails brush through your hair, then claw at your nape as you remain fixated on her tattooed rib. She deserves to be adored and worshiped.

“Look at me babe,” she murmurs, gently tilting you up, faint at your touch. Against your desires, you follow. “Put me down. You know why I’m here.”

You oblige without a second thought—and you’re both on a level playing field again.

Still, you can’t help but kiss her right after. She reciprocates the favor. You’re a perfect match. Even as you’re making out, you’re thinking of ways to get messy and get the jump on her while she’s preoccupied. 

It ends up being your biggest mistake.

Both of you wrestle for control over the other, a scuffle that ends up knocking down a few appliances and tableware. The sound of glass shattering rips through the hotel room floor louder than your collective moans ever will. For someone with a lithe figure, Hyewon proves to be much stronger than you were led to believe. It shows when you try to push her onto another table; you both end up crashing to the floor seconds later. 

From there, it’s whoever is the first to get up, and you knew it was all over from there.

Hyewon leads you into the sole bedroom, shoving you onto the mattress. Unrelenting, she slams onto you right after, pinning you down with her bare hands. Surprising her with your own strength, you reach for her raven locks through her ironclad grip of your wrists. Your lips continue to crash like waves against rocks, neither of you willing to back down. There’s a clear disparity between you: she wants you more.

To further prove her point, she presses her palms down on your chest, sitting over you upright, straddled on your lap. She’s never looked better.

Making quick work of your trousers, your cock is freed from its confines, only to be immediately caught up in Hyewon’s hand. Her grip spreads through your groin, turning breathing into an absolute nightmare. The one fear that’s been haunting your mind these last few months, finally realized. 

And it’s staring you down with an innocent yet wicked smile.

“You have no idea how long I wanted this,” she remarks, her sultry voice sending shivers down your spine. Arching down, she presses her tongue forward on your throbbing tip. Combined with the pressure she’s building with her hand, holes puncture through your lungs. And right on command, you’re leaking. She’s lapping your cock in circles, slow and agonizing, taking every little drop of precum seeping. You can only tremble beneath her, utterly defenseless. “Remembering when I was tapping your foot with my heel earlier tonight?”

She leaves you in such a dizzying spiral that you can’t even look directly at her, let alone formulate a reply. Meanwhile, her eyes remain fixed on you, doe-eyed with innocence, yet her actions are cruel. Breathing proves to be a struggle, let alone returning with a response. “What about it?”

“I wanted you to follow me to the bathroom. And I wanted you to fuck me in there.”

Honest to God, that was not the first thought on your mind. If anything, the presence of many proved to be the ideal shield in keeping yourself away from Hyewon. Losing best actor was the greatest blessing in disguise, as it meant you didn’t have to look straight into her magnetic eyes during your theoretical speech and make an embarrassment of yourself in front of hundreds in attendance, and millions watching on television. 

Now that you’re in bed with no way to escape, you can only accept your fate.

“I’m not the best at reading the room,” you comment, sheepishly shaking your head.

“Not surprising, honestly,” she says, rewarding your candor with a kiss—on your tip. Then another. More heartwarming than arousing, if anything. “Anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a dork?”

“Not the first time I’ve heard it from a girl,” you say, in an attempt to show some wit, only to be met with a stiff grip on your cock. “Ah—fuck—”

A bit more force and Hyewon could break you in half with her mere hand alone. She’s cold, calculating, and cruel. Her expression seems apathetic, yet deep down, you can tell she’s having so much fun toying and teasing you, stealing what little semblance of willpower you have. And to think she’s this demure, sometimes funny celebrity with a certain image that’s universally admired by many. 

Behind that gaze, she’s thinking of more ways to further ruin you.

“I don’t think a dork like you has been with other girls,” she remarks, leaning forward to tease a kiss, only to leave you dry. “But looking at this cock—”

She stops to admire your shaft once more. Ultimately, she can’t help herself. She has to give your tip another ceremonious flick with her parched tongue in appreciation. Two, actually. If she doesn’t stop, you’ll soon be deep in her throat, and you know she’s not letting you go. Thankfully, she finally regains sight of what she wants in the first place.

Lifting herself ever so slightly, Hyewon takes a deep breath—then slowly melts into you. 

It’s a car crash you can’t look away from. It’s inevitable, but you’re completely powerless to stop her. You can only groan in agony as your bodies intertwine, creating a union that only she can break. Inch by inch, you helplessly watch as Hyewon slowly takes you into her suffocating heat. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before: vicious, intense, and painful. 

It doesn’t help that she’s taking her sweet time, keeping you on edge for what may as well be an eternity, bracing for the certain explosion she’s going to leave in her wake. 

“Oh—fuck—it’s so perfect,” Hyewon throws her head back, her jaw dropping slow, every word delivered in a near-inaudible sigh. Eventually, she buries herself in you deep to the hilt—and she keens. “That—that’s it—that’s the fucking spot—”

Your hands cling to her waist, your maw similarly agape, breathing tensely as the pleasure slowly courses through your muscles. “God—you’re fucking tight—”

She hums in return, satisfied by your response, before losing herself in the sensation of your cock impaling her—and she begins to move.

As you fight the urge to cum right then and there, Hyewon slowly lifts herself off your lap, your cock reappearing with a fresh coat of her drenched pussy, before sinking back down. She rips the breath right from your lungs, while you’re forced to shut your eyes. Anything to keep your brain firing as the pleasure rushing throughout your body sends you into overdrive. 

You’re an outlet of ecstasy, a conduit for her to loosen all her pent-up frustration and lust. Her palms grip to your thighs, keeping you in place—as if you’re in any condition to move anywhere except for her whim. She’s crashing into you at a punishing pace as a result of keeping yourself away for so long. And she’s being open about it too: “Why did it take us so long—ugh—”

You can only moan back. Truthfully, you’re wondering the same thing too. 

As your eyes alternate between wide open and completely shut, you catch glimpses of Hyewon using every inch of you to fill her wanton pussy with cock. When she’s not cursing or screaming your name, her moans fill your ears with sweet, sultry music. It’s a sound not of her high class image. She’s riding you like it’s life or death, like her heart will stop beating if her cunt isn’t being stretched out.

With every bounce, so do her breasts. Up and down, settling into a rhythm, forming a hypnotic motion that your eyes get lost in. Your obsession reaches a point to where the movement of her tits stirs you on, reigniting your tired muscles. You can’t lie there and be a helpless viewer any longer.

And so, you meet Hyewon halfway, matching the grind of her hips with your thrust at the apex, setting her alight. This particular stroke. The hot sensation. It utterly shatters her. Her voice cracks. She trembles violently, giving you breathing room to sit upward and lean close to her chest. 

So while she staggers back, overwhelmed by your cock spearing her cunt, you go down on her succulent breasts, squishing your face between them. Despite having Hyewon’s body all to yourself, the friction between your bodies creates this wracking storm that drives you insane. It isn’t enough that you’re feasting on her tits, that her boobs are bouncing so hard it’s downright pornographic, and that she’s screaming her heart out in response to each stroke. This will be headline news tomorrow. Yet, none of that is your concern. You have to pour everything into her. It’s now or never.

“Fuck yes—oh fuck—fucking take me—fuck—” Hyewon’s riding your cock, forcing all the air out your lungs, rendering you speechless. Doesn’t matter, you’re drowning in her slick and her tits, pounding away with twice the effort. She’s swearing through her tongue like she’s a cop in a crime picture, biting down on her lip in a flimsy attempt to restrain herself, but anyone with a good ear nearby could have easily identified her voice through the four walls of this hotel room. Knowing her, it’s intentional. She’s determined to put you through a world of trouble, leaving you with no other choice but to shut her up.

And you’re going to do just that.

You end up yanking her by the waist as your bodies repeatedly collide with each other. Each impact the equivalent of a cosmic explosion, the aftermath echoing through the room. The sound of skin slapping skin fills your ears louder than what it seems in the movies. Sex with Hyewon is much, much better than in your fantasies. Here’s another thing that can’t be found on camera: her soft pleas begging you to keep going, interlaced between harsh whines and airy moans that can’t be faked.

“God, I’m gonna fucking cum, Hyewon.” There you go, your silly side showing at such a serious moment. Everyone knows you don’t proclaim your impending climax. Rookie mistake. You’re not shooting a porno, but you might as well be with how hard you’re fucking her. She can’t help but cackle even as you relentlessly pound into her cunt. What should be a moment of weakness immediately gets brushed aside as you hold her when she slams down, and you finally fall apart.

Impaling your cock hilt deep inside Hyewon, you’re digging your palms deep into her soft flesh, unwilling to let go. She rests her head beside yours as you blast her with thick, warm cum. Her prolonged, saccharine-sounding moan is nothing compared to the loaded groan that ripples through the room. The supplication she makes, demanding you to fill her with every little drop goes through deaf ears. Your dick seems to have heard it loud and clear, though. The amount you’re filling her is enough to rip through her body violently too. She follows with her own peak afterwards, hitting a previously unheard octave higher, your bodies finally melting into one. 

Just like that, she’s clinging to you like you’re her personal life support, completely drained of all her strength. 

The ecstasy lasts for a brief moment. The fall off happens too soon for your liking. Like her, you’re sapped of energy and you fall down to earth with Hyewon in your arms. The end comes—not with grandiose drama or spectacle, but by a calm, uneventful stir.

You should be done at this point. It’s been a long day. You’ve been up as early as sunrise, spent hours behind makeup and measuring tape for a suit you won’t wear more than once. Smiling comes natural, if not downright fake; in front of the cameras, on the red carpet, on screen, and even during the afterparties. Every time you step out in public, there’s an image, a reputation to uphold. You’ve done this a dozen times in the past few months alone, bearing a lifetime’s worth of and it never gets more comfortable or easier. It’s a miracle you haven’t cracked or had a public breakdown, even though your mind is calling for it.

And yet, all that labor and agony is worth it for what you have now. The awards, the recognition, the adoration—but most especially the girl. What are you now, taken out of a story. One that feels all too familiar and done to death, but it never grows old or tired. 

By all accounts, it should be a happy ending. 

Except you’re not done. You’re not satisfied, and so is Hyewon. Even though she’s settling down in your embrace, resting her head against your heartbeats, mumbling these sweet nothings about how much you’ve ruined her and fucked her to shreds, she’s quietly begging for more. It isn’t about keeping a sanctimonious image anymore; it’s about how far you’ll push her and use her. Your throbbing cock buried inside her cunt says it too.

If there’s anything you’ve learned about acting, it’s that one take isn’t enough.

Like a damsel in distress, you scoop Hyewon into your arms. Through what you might consider a second wind, you carry her into the bathroom again on wobbly legs, stepping into the shower, showing that you’re ready to take your relationship a step further. You’ll hash out the details in the morning—if she hasn’t left by then.

The sound of running water serves as background for the airy, lewd noises that quickly fill the shower. 

Hyewon feels incredibly soft to touch. Pliable in your grasp, like a doll to bend, twist, and use at your whim. You’re squeezing her flesh, fondling her mounds tightly till you’re seeing red everywhere. Her tits, her shapely ass, and everything in between. Kissing down her body, giving every little part its much needed attention. You’ve fucked her to pieces, yes, but she’s still housing a divine figure that deserves the same level of praise. 

With two fingers stroking at her cunt, she’s keening, her head tilted up to meet the relentless downpour rushing down over your bodies. Her voice is in tatters after an hour of tireless screaming, in addition to all the mindless chatter from earlier tonight. Part of you wishes to have taken up her offer. Something this good shouldn’t be kept secret, but you’re more than selfish enough to keep Hyewon all to yourself. 

Your raging impulse gets the better of you, and you slap her tits from behind. She yelps a cry of pain and pleasure. The recoil and sound activates something in your brain like a sleeper agent. You do it a second time, then a third. You stop counting after, indulging yourself in the satisfying noise of her mounds smacked over and over, every squeal, every strike equally as gratifying as your cock slamming into her pussy. She’s clinging to the walls as a respite, her body shuddering vigorously, but you don’t give her a moment to breathe. It’s what she would have wanted: to be used and taken like a ragdoll.

Hyewon screams again when you swing her around, lifting one leg around your waist, and slam your cock inside her. No pleasantries, no talking through the process—only a desire to fuck. Burying your face against her neck, growling into her skin like a ravenous beast, you hammer away without care for neither your comfort nor hers. You’re counting the hours, minutes, seconds before she disappears from your life, and you’re gonna make sure that years from now, she remembers this night in particular.

You’re too engrossed to see her expressions twist in impossible ways that average humans can make. But that’s the point: Hyewon is no ordinary person. She’s one actress, something that can be found in others who are more talented and have more resounding qualities, but more than that, to you, she’s everything. The clench of her cunt on your cock continues to invigorate you and push you further. With every thrust, she jumps and sends aftershocks coursing through your veins. God, you love how incredibly well she fucking takes it, and the slightest tilt of her lips struggling to form a grin reinforce this. You’ve got nothing else to say, really; you easily lose yourself in your own lust, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It doesn’t take too long before you feel it again. The end. It’s approaching faster than you can react. You knew it wasn’t going to be a drawn out affair, but you’re so desperate to reach that high, no matter how brief it may be. It was too good to pass up, and you’re beyond waiting a second more.

You’d give everything up for even a single minute longer, but the period of bargaining has long passed you by.

“Gonna cum again—fuck—” is all you can muster, your first words after a long while. Her pussy feels so good to form coherent words. Lust has utterly consumed your brain more than anything. The entire time, Hyewon’s mewling, keening in every direction, trying to find purchase on the walls or the shower door, only to fall a few inches short. She ends up coming back to you, hanging on for dear life. You’ve never let up, terrified that she’ll magically disappear into nothing at any second. 

Acting fast, as if you’ve got a ticking bomb in hand, you draw your cock out, coated in a thick sheen of your own cum and hers, pumping yourself with a few strokes of your hand until you finally explode. The shower washes down the milky white blot you’re unloading on her skin, never leaving a permanent mark. It does, however, bring you back to the place that began your undoing.

The tattoo on her rib. 

Water wipes the cum blocking the view. Despite those same five words occupying your mind for the last few hours, it still hits like a fresh revelation. You hear her voice repeating them inside your head as you come to your senses, your lust being satiated—for now. Even when Hyewon is completely broken before you, reduced to a quiet pile of flesh. One hand on the surrounding wall, the other in limbo, her leg still coiled around your waist, forcing oxygen into her tired lungs wherever she can. 

With the ‘quick’ shower done, and after hardly any cleaning was made, you carry her back to the bedroom. 

You don’t even make it past the living room before your legs finally give up. You end up crashing onto the floor together before you both finally call it a night.

—————

“This is your fault you know,” says Hyewon, drawing circles on your chest, over your calm heartbeats. “I’m supposed to be in London tomorrow for my table read. And yet I’m still here. My flight was five hours ago by the way.”

It’s already high noon when you finally regain consciousness, your head still spinning despite not taking more than one alcoholic drink the night before. Hyewon’s doing marginally better, having woken up 30 minutes earlier. No wonder it feels so hot; her body is snuggled up on you, your limbs tangled. Despite the urgency she’s speaking about, she doesn’t seem to be interested in moving any time soon.

At least you’re awake and sensible enough to fire back. “Who’s fault is that? I wasn’t the one inviting you to come over and have you fucked senseless.”

She chuckles into your skin, little ripples forming where her lips are gently pressed. “And I wasn’t the one who spent the last 18 months saying we’re just friends.”

You’re already lying flat on the floor, but the rebuttal only makes you want to get up only to fall back down. So you settle with an expressive sigh. 

Hyewon laughs. It’s what won over millions, including you. You’re taken back to that fateful day you first met. Right then and there, you knew there’d be no one else like her. If given an opportunity to go back and change a few things here and there or, you’d do it over again, mistakes included. Last night was worth all the waiting and teasing. 

“So—about that show,” you lean up, pushing her closer to your face, “What was it again? Something about you being a nymphomaniac? Delete what?”

“You mean Delete This? Let’s not.” 

Mention of the premise alone is enough to set her gummy cheeks on fire. For someone whose career has been built up on mostly more general audience friendly programming, leading a sexual soap opera is quite the jump.  

She buries her head on your neck, embarrassed, feeling guilty. “Yeah. I mean, last night was—different, you know? I’ve shown my tits and body already, but I’ve never had sex—on screen before.”

You should have known. She needed a reason to get in your pants without your working relationship only centering around your bodies. And those were clearly stand-ins based on how her face is never shown during her older scenes.

“Jesus, Hyem. If you wanted to have sex, you could have asked anytime. You have no idea how annoyed I was when they scrapped our scene last minute. It was only you taking off your shirt too.”

“On the bright side, we didn’t have an intimacy director getting in the way, right?”

She does have a point. Still, your personal cold war didn’t need to last 18 months before either of you would make the first move.

But with all that tension a thing of the past, the chains are unfettered. Now both of you have the ability to take this little secret in any direction you desire. You could simply be a workplace couple; it’s been the story of your year so far. Or you could take things a step further. The possibilities are truly endless.

Hyewon’s cheeky grin slowly reforms, her hand snaking up to cup your cheek. “Shame we only had one night. I could spend the rest of the day here, but—” she huffs, “I’m running late. Too bad I won’t get to have this cock for a long, long time.”

You lift an amused eyebrow, barely able to keep your new cockiness from showing. “Will you, though?”

She’s taken completely by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Check your phone.”

After rising to her feet, Hyewon walks over to the console table where her purse is set. Fishing her phone from the handbag, she scrolls through the apps, her attention di–vided between the screen and you on the floor, finally getting up as well. 

Her stare then lingers on the phone, as if whatever headline of the day has caught her attention. 

Next thing you know, she’s grabbing you by the chest, dragging you back to the bedroom before shoving you back onto the mattress—right where you belong. Pinning you down and dead to rights, Hyewon mounts herself on your lap, your cock pressed against her aching core, ready to receive a fresh beating.

Some jokes can go a little too far.

“You fucking asshole. You mean that—”

“Yep.”

“And it’s not—”

“It’s not.”

You can feel her hips slowly grinding against yours. You’re gonna love—and hate—the next 18 months with Hyewon.

“I’m going to kill you. And I mean: kill you.”

“No better way to go out.”

—————

(A/N: Thank you for the commission! That Hyewon dress is so ripe for material, and I had to incorporate her tattoos into it somehow. She doesn't show them quite often—heck, she hasn't publicly addressed them even once, I believe. That little nod at the end is for everyone still waiting for Delete this to return. At this point, a reimagining or remake must happen first before the next actual episode because good God my writing back then versus now is night & day. Even comparing the last update from 2022(?) to today is also radically different in style. I'm still interested in reviving it; it's just a matter of when, not if. Thank you for reading!)

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane Preference] And Their Favorite Hot Drink

Every time I say I want to make at least three, and every time it takes me a month to make three. But between today and tomorrow, I want to post something else with a cozy/winter theme, so stay tuned. Meanwhile, in my little self-promotion corner, I'll let you know that you can find my fanart here, and here you can find a fanfiction I'm working on, if you want to check out my other projects!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 |

Jayce:

Hot tea.

With lots of cookies, not just one or two like nobles who drink tea to be chic.

He drinks tea because it makes the cookies taste better and softer.

And if I told you he prefers fruity tea?

Basically, he likes a strong flavor, and fruity teas have the most aroma, although having grown up as the Kirammans’ ward, he’s learned to drink it in any form.

Viktor:

Sweet milk.

Or milk and honey.

Occasionally, milk, coffee, caramel, and whipped cream if he wants to be fancy, but he never has the time, so it’s usually just sweet milk.

He has such a stockpile that statistically, at least one bottle is expired, but it doesn’t matter; he doesn’t pay attention to those things.

Ekko:

Cappuccino. It’s quick, it’s hot, it gives energy, and the milk makes it sweet enough without adding sugar.

Easy to find and great for the group because it’s not expensive—just steal an industrial-sized can of milk and some instant coffee, and he can make it for more than 20 people.

Tea is problematic because there are no plants in Zaun, and in Piltover, they either sell it in small doses or loose.

Vander:

Hot chocolate, because I say so.

This man was born to be a father, and what do kids love? Hot chocolate.

Hard to come by in Zaun, which is why he always adds chocolate bars or cocoa powder as an extra price in his smuggling deals.

It became his favorite because of the connection it has with his kids and his happy place.

Silco:

Whiskey doesn’t count as a hot drink, and that’s a bit of a problem.

But luckily, coffee exists.

Not American coffee, long and watered down, but espresso.

He holds the small cup in his hands to warm himself, but subtly enough that no one notices.

Jinx:

Sugar.

Not a hot drink, sure, but any drink works for her if it has enough sugar.

Milk and honey remind her of when she was little, tied to special occasions when her parents actually managed to get honey.

But pretty much anything works for her: fruity teas with three tablespoons of sugar, hot chocolate with one spoonful, cappuccino with two…

Vi:

Anything works for her as long as the cup is big enough to warm her hands.

Simple and easy-to-find drinks are great, sure, but no one can convince me her favorite drink isn’t either hot chocolate with rum or a complex, spiced Piltover-style beverage.

She doesn’t mind sweetness but never adds sugar to her drinks—she’d rather choose something with natural sweet notes.

Caitlyn:

Tea.

English breakfast tea with sugar and milk is something her parents made her during festive mornings, so it holds sentimental value.

But the tea she’s used to drinking is Oolong or Yorkshire, typical of the five o’clock tea tradition with her mother and occasionally their guests.

Mel:

Coffee and variations.

In my little artist brain, Piltover has an ethical equivalent of Starbucks, and that café is Mel’s happy place.

Coffee is easier to find for sure, but coffee-based drinks with caramel, ginger, and plant-based milk are absolutely her favorite.

She loves sipping them slowly, savoring the flavors, taking half an hour or more to finish her cup.

Sevika:

Whiskey.

No, she won’t accept that it doesn’t count as a hot drink.

She doesn’t like milk, but if she’s forced to have it, she spikes it with whiskey or gin.

The same goes for hot chocolate.

She’s not a coffee person either; she doesn’t see the point of drinking something so bitter without a real purpose.

[gentlemanjuniper]

If I could inject just a little positivity to the news...

Season 2 has a lot of filler and stretches out a pretty simple mystery to six episodes. That's the appeal to some, I get it. But tightness and focus was not its strong suit. I remember feeling like it wasted a ton of time on side characters and it's possible shaving the story down to 90 minutes will skim things down to its most essential beats and be stronger for it. Basically, S2 got a lot of time given to it, and this is obviously my personal opinion but I don't think it used all of it well. I think S2 itself could have been half the length simply by employing more efficient storytelling and we'd not mourn too much.

A lot of S2's weaker plotlines feel built around people that Neil wanted to work with again, with so many recurring actors (I'm thinking of the zombies specifically, when that minisode could have easily been tighter without them). A lot of s2 to me feels like Neil just making work for the people he likes and wants to work with and a movie has to be more accountable to things like that.

Lots of entire fandoms exist around single movies. 90 minutes is not nothing. It's enough for many, many films to tell a complete story with cute character interactions and satisfying emotional arcs, especially when A&C are the only real significant connecting threads between both seasons thus far.

I don't think there are as many loose threads that absolutely need resolving as people may be thinking. Would I like to know why Aziraphale did the '40s apology dance? Would I like to see his bookshop gun? Sure. Are either of those necessarily essential to closing out the story? I don't think so. Really, what needs resolving is the second coming and, directly connected to that, Aziraphale and Crowley's rift. To me, not knowing the story obviously, that seems super reasonable to do in 90 minutes?

I don't think anyone involved in the final season can possibly be blind to the appeal of the show being Aziraphale and Crowley over anything else. That's certainly the reason why their roles were expanded to begin with from the book and why the second season was, nominally, all about them. They also now have to pay MS and DT for appearing in a movie rather than an ensemble show, there's no way they won't be front and center. Amazon wants a show that will make money and market itself; there's a reason why all the promo material for S2 was of Crowley and Aziraphale, because people engage with that stuff, reblog it, make art that promotes the show, etc. It makes no artistic or financial sense to make a movie that sidelines them.

GO is at its best when it has Terry's voice most strongly in it. That's why to me, S2 was a weaker, more meandering season overall (that, and I think the minisodes, while fun, just make the season feel comprised of different voices not always working in tandem towards a common goal). If I was a writer hired to condense a season into a film, and one of the authors had been rightfully disgraced, I would go out of my way to ensure the clearly Terry stuff is most significantly emphasized. It's telling to me that the Pratchett estate is producing and it's possible that the end result will result in more Terry, less Neil.

Think of it this way: everything we've gotten after S1 has always been extra. Imagine telling a fan of the book in the 90s that not only will you get a six episode adaptation, you also get a totally new second season, AND a movie?

Basically: I know this is disappointing but I think a lot of the pleasure of the Good Omens fandom was ALWAYS people picking up on and expanding on details, and y'all managed to do that just fine when A&C were only ensemble members in S1. You can and will do that with a movie too. And this solution both a) ensures first and foremost that Neil won't be involved or the allegations swept under the rug, and b) gives an opportunity for the heart of the story to be emphasized with greater focus, clarity and less filler.

Will we lose good stuff? Probably. But it's also possible we will get a tighter, more condensed, focused version of the best bits, the Terry Pratchett-est bits. I can easily see a 90 minute movie that, knowing they HAVE to focus on the important stuff now, is more Crowley and Aziraphale centric than ever.

[claramelooo]

HEYYY! It's me again! I'm so happy with all the support words and the great proportion this story is taking that I got excited and I just want write more and more to you guys!! (I'm vacations btw lol)

First of all, I would like to say that I don't know much about the US admission system, so if I got it wrong, please correct me.

Second, if you have any suggestions to improve the story's progress or speed up my writing, feel free to contact me.

Last but not least: enjoy it and comment plsss <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Paring: Mommy Dom Wanda x Brat Fem reader

WARNING: +18

Summary : Wanda wraps you in the web she has created.

Read here: Prologue | Part 1 – Predator | Part 3 - On your knees

Velvet Chains

The Prey

It was around 3 a.m., and Wanda sighed, staring at the ceiling of the bedroom. The silence was broken only by the lazy whirring of the fan. Vision lay asleep beside her, turned away, breathing deeply. The space between them on the bed felt like an unbridgeable chasm. She turned her head to look at him for a moment but felt a weight in her chest as she realized there was no warmth there, no real connection.

Sex with Vision had always been… functional, almost mechanical. It was always about him—his needs, his desires. There were moments when she tried to convince herself that this was normal, that love was above all a commitment, but nights like this made it clear: something was terribly wrong.

Wanda shut her eyes tightly, trying to push away the frustration building up inside her. It wasn’t just the sex. It was everything. The suffocating predictability, the lack of intensity, the absence of something she had never been able to name but missed with an almost painful ferocity.

And then there was you.

The memory of your face, the way you looked at her during dinner, came rushing back like a storm. Your eyes held a mix of defiance and uncertainty—something Wanda couldn’t get out of her mind. Since seeing you, there had been a growing need inside her, something primal and overwhelming. It wasn’t just desire—though that was undeniable. It was the way you made her feel, as if she were alive for the first time in years.

Wanda sat up in bed, running her hands through her hair, frustrated with herself. It was wrong. That much was obvious. You were young, inexperienced—a delicate soul who deserved freedom, not the weight of the obsession she felt growing inside her.

But the more she tried to rationalize, the more inevitable it seemed. There was something about you—your innocence mixed with a quiet resilience, as if the world couldn’t break you, no matter how hard it tried. It was hypnotic. She wanted to shape you, to dominate your strength and fragility all at once, to explore every nuance of you until there was nothing left to hide.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she pressed her fingers against her temples, trying to stifle the thoughts.

“This has to stop,” she murmured to herself. “This isn’t who I am.”

But the truth was, she wasn’t sure who she was anymore. With Vision, with the life she had built—it all felt so distant, so colorless. And then you appeared, and the entire world gained a new vibrancy, an intensity she hadn’t realized she craved until she felt it.

She looked at Vision again, still turned away, still oblivious to the storm raging beside him. For a moment, Wanda felt a wave of guilt, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. Because the reality was clear: she would never feel whole with Vision.

The clock read 3:23 a.m. when Wanda slipped out of bed, her bare feet meeting the cold floor. She needed space, needed to think, but she knew that every step she took was leading her deeper into dangerous territory—a path of no return.

Reaching the living room, she grabbed a bottle of whiskey—Vision only drank it to celebrate work promotions—and took a swig straight from the bottle, hoping to drown out the chaotic thoughts of you, of Vision, of herself.

But they didn’t go away.

As the alcohol coursed through her veins, Wanda felt her body float. And then, she felt ready to do something she had never done before. With trembling hands from adrenaline and excitement, Wanda picked up her laptop from the coffee table and searched for what had been on her mind since the moment she first laid eyes on you.

The video was artificial, the expressions of pleasure fake, the moans hollow. But the scene itself sparked Wanda’s imagination.

She pictured you moaning beneath her as she slid a good, thick strap inside your tight little pussy, pinning your arms above your head, leaving you completely at her mercy. She imagined slapping your pretty face until you gave in, sticking your tongue out to accommodate her fingers, letting her lubricate them before slowly sliding them into your tight little ass, driving you wild.

Denying you orgasms until you begged her with teary, pleading eyes. Pushing you until you finally said the one word you so desperately needed to say—and that she so desperately needed to hear.

Wanda also fantasized about riding your face, making you drown in her wet pussy, suffocating on her juices. Marking your neck and chest with bruises she would proudly touch the next day.

These thoughts alone were enough to make Wanda forget the adult film on her screen and focus entirely on you. Her fingers worked diligently over her clit, her body trembling as the signs of orgasm built within her. Moments later, she came, her eyes rolling back, her legs shaking.

Oh, fuck. She had to have you soon.

 [...]

The city library was a sanctuary of sacred silence, where whispered voices mingled with the soft rustle of turning pages. You had returned to the country with a single purpose: to study. Your mother never missed a chance to remind you that your bright future hinged on a prestigious university. But after everything, Yale felt like an unattainable dream.

Not anymore.

You still had a chance to transfer and adapt to a new routine—though adjusting had never been hard for you. You’d spent your 18th birthday alone, blowing out the candle on a strawberry cupcake someone had given you, wishing for the power to change your life.

And now, here it was.

Determined, you worked tirelessly to achieve an excellent GPA, nurtured relationships with your professors, and spent the remaining months meticulously preparing your early decision application.

Then came the waiting—waiting and waiting for that damn call. Time passed. You turned 20—too old for a Christian boarding school, too young to face the world—and found yourself staring out of the same window.

When your father finally called, his expressionless voice carried the weight of your shattered dreams.

And now, here you were, standing before an old building with beautiful architecture that probably held some intriguing history. With a pile of notebooks and a battered binder in hand, you pushed open the heavy doors and stepped into the library's main hall. The comforting scent of aged paper and polished wood enveloped you.

The plan was straightforward: find a corner, avoid distractions, and lose yourself in formulas, essays, and reading lists for the next few hours.

But fate, it seemed, had other ideas.

As soon as you entered, your eyes locked onto something—or rather, someone—that made your stomach churn. Behind the lending counter stood Wanda Maximoff.

She wore thin glasses that only accentuated the intensity of her piercing gaze. Her hair was tied back haphazardly, loose strands framing her face. When you walked in, she looked up, and a dangerous spark flashed in her eyes—something intense, hypnotic, and unnervingly expectant.

It was as though she’d known you were coming.

You felt the shift in the atmosphere before you could process it. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction—dangerous, predatory.

"Oh, my, my… What a surprise," Wanda murmured, her voice low and sweet, yet carrying an underlying weight that twisted your stomach. She left her computer and moved toward you, hands clasped in front of her like she owned the place.

You cursed softly.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure, Dekta?” she asked, her accent curling around your name in a way that made your core tighten despite your best efforts.

“I’m here to study.”

“Ah, yes… Yale, isn’t it?” Her lips curved into something between a smirk and a sneer, making your fists clench at your sides. “Your parents mentioned it,” she mused. “I admire ambition—though ambition without focus is a waste, don’t you think?”

Your eyes narrowed. "I have focus."

She took another step closer, her presence suffocating. “Do you now?”

“I’m not a child, Wanda,” you snapped—perhaps a bit too loudly for a space that demanded quiet.

For a brief moment, her pupils expanded, eclipsing the green in her eyes. If you weren’t so innocent, you might have seen the excitement pooling in her gaze. But you felt it—the way your body betrayed you, heat pooling low in your belly, your nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of your bra.

Her expression shifted, the intensity replaced by a false, sugary smile.

“Oh, of course, because you’re such a big girl now, aren’t you?” Wanda tilted her head, her tone deceptively kind but dripping with condescension. Her eyes seemed to dissect you, reading your every reaction like an open book.

“I’m an adult,” you retorted, forcing your voice to remain steady. “I don’t need anyone treating me like I’m still in a school uniform.”

Wanda’s steps were deliberate as she sidled past you, gesturing lazily to a nearby table. “An adult, you say? Funny, because what I see…” Her gaze swept over you and then to the table, “…is a little girl with big dreams, crumbling at the slightest challenge.”

Your entire body tensed. You loathed the way she spoke to you, as though she had the right to dissect your maturity.

“You don’t know me,” you shot back, defensive.

“Don’t I?” She raised an eyebrow, her smile slow and menacing. “Then why are you trembling, Dekta?”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but the words caught in your throat. She was right. Your hands, clutching the binder, were trembling slightly, your heart pounding too fast.

Wanda noticed. Of course, she noticed.

“See?” she whispered, stepping closer, her voice soothing yet laced with control as she reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Adult or not, you still have a lot to learn.” Her words dropped to a murmur, almost too soft to hear: “And I’ll teach you everything.”

Before you could react, Wanda straightened, creating distance as she adjusted her glasses—a deliberate motion that left you inexplicably yearning for her touch again.

“Now, find your table and study. Show me this sharp ambition of yours.”

“You don’t control me,” you snapped, anger flaring briefly.

She chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. “Oh, Dekta… I don’t have to. You’re already doing exactly what I want.”

With that, she turned and walked back to the counter, leaving you trembling and unsettled, as though you’d just lost a game you didn’t know you were playing.

After 40 minutes of calming down and trying to stop thinking about the woman, you finally manage to focus and regain control of your thoughts. Math had always been something very abstract to you, perhaps even more so than philosophy. There was something about numbers that seemed to elude the logic of your brain, as if every equation were a puzzle with its solution written in a language you couldn't quite comprehend.

You sigh, your eyes fixed on the book's page, where a series of elegantly aligned formulas stared back at you with an almost cruel indifference. It had always been this way. Essays were your forte—your words flowed like a river, structured and persuasive, but numbers? They slipped through your fingers like sand.

With the pencil in your hand, you begin to scribble what seemed to be the first step toward a solution, but your mind soon wavers. Math, with all its precision, left little room for intuition. Every mistake was exposed, every misstep impossible to hide. You had always hated that.

Suddenly, Wanda's presence invades your thoughts again, like a shadow you can't escape. The way she looked at you, as if she knew exactly where your weaknesses lay. Worse, as if she was willing to exploit them.

You shake your head, trying to banish her image, but it’s useless. It’s as if she were still there, standing behind you, watching, waiting for you to fail.

And maybe that was exactly what you needed.

"Okay," you whisper to yourself, turning the page of the notebook with more determination. "This isn't about her. This is about me."

Your strength had always been your ability to adapt and overcome challenges. No matter how impossible something seemed, you had an inner resilience that kept you trying. That was what made you special, even when everything seemed against you.

But that strength came at a price. You were stubborn, almost obsessive, and the idea of failing—for yourself, for your parents, for Wanda—was intolerable. That need to prove your worth, to be good enough, was both a gift and a curse.

Feeling a touch on your shoulder, you jump as if you’d been shocked. Looking at the hand that touched you, it belonged to an elderly woman with a friendly expression on her face.

"Looks like your study session was productive, right?" the lady asked in a voice trembling with age. You simply nodded, still confused by the sudden approach. "But I must inform you, dear. We’re closing now."

"Oh. Yes, of course… I’m sorry," you said as you stood, hastily packing your belongings. "I didn’t even notice the time." You offered an embarrassed explanation.

The lady just laughed, sweetly.

"It's all right! Wanda asked us not to disturb you," she said as if it were nothing, but for you… you felt your pulse quicken with your heartbeat, felt your heart warm at Wanda's indirect gesture.

You looked around, hoping Wanda would appear again to provoke you—to make you surrender to her dominant aura.

But with a click, the library lights turned off, leaving you alone with your confused thoughts.

Letting out a tired sigh, you enter your house. Today had been exhausting, but your mind was at peace from finally breaking out of your loop of procrastination and self-sabotage. It was draining, but it was gratifying—enough to make you proud of yourself.

Arriving in the living room, you see your mother smiling, which makes you raise an eyebrow at her unusual gesture. Noticing you, she stood up, laughing.

"Sweetheart! Come here!" she called, making grand gestures that filled the room.

As you reached the center of the living room, you saw her.

There she was. Wanda Maximoff, sitting in your living room as if she owned the place. Her posture was impeccable—relaxed, but not sloppy. Long legs crossed, her expression composed. She held a teacup in her left hand, her long fingers resting on the porcelain as if it were a luxury item.

Your heart raced. You froze in the doorway, looking from your mother to Wanda and back to your mother.

“Oh, sweetheart, finally!” your mother exclaimed, her voice full of enthusiasm. "I can hardly believe our luck. Wanda offered to help you with your studies! You know how much I worry about your preparation for Yale, and now she's willing to guide you!"

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. Everything felt like a blur. Wanda? The woman who had just turned your afternoon into an emotional whirlwind? Now she was here, in your house, looking more dangerous than ever?

"I simply did what anyone would," Wanda replied, her voice soft but firm. The tone carried a duality: apparent humility, but a pride you could feel beneath the surface. She rose slowly, placing the teacup on the coffee table. Her gaze met yours, and you felt that same shiver from the library.

"Good evening, Dekta," she said with an intonation that made your skin tingle. “I hope you don’t mind my visit. Your mother and I were discussing how I might be helpful for your academic ambitions.”

“Of course,” you responded automatically, trying to keep your composure. “Thank you so much for your help, Wanda.”

Wanda smiled, a small, calculated smile. There was no genuine warmth in it, only something... satisfying. As if she were celebrating an invisible victory.

"In fact," she continued, taking a step closer to you, "I thought we could make this mutually beneficial. Your studies require dedication, and I noticed you have potential. In exchange for my guidance, perhaps you could help me a few hours a week at the library. There are tasks that require... youthful energy."

Your mother seemed more than thrilled with the idea. “Oh, that would be wonderful, wouldn’t it? You’d spend more time learning, in such an inspiring environment!”

You knew you had no choice. Your mother was already beaming, and any refusal would be a family disaster. But above that, there was Wanda, with that look that seemed to pierce your soul, as if she knew that deep down, you didn’t want to refuse either.

"Sure," you finally replied, trying to sound neutral. “That sounds great.”

Wanda took a small step back, satisfied. "Excellent. We’ll start tomorrow."

Your mother clapped her hands, excited. "I’m so proud of you, sweetheart! And so grateful, Wanda, for being willing to help my baby.”

Hearing your mother’s last words, Wanda’s body tensed, clearly disliking the way she referred to you.

Wanda looked at you again, placing a light smile on her face, but her eyes... they had an almost predatory gleam.

“It will be my pleasure,” she said, but you knew there was much more to that phrase than your mother could understand. "Well, it’s late, and I still need to put Tommy and Billy to bed. S/n, would you walk me to the door?"

Finally, you snapped out of your trance upon hearing your name. "O-of course."

As the older woman passed through the door, she turned to look at you again, her eyes gleaming. “You looked beautiful today, darling.”

The compliment made you blush, and the air felt thin, making it hard to breathe.

“Hmm, what do we say when we’re complimented, Dekta?” Wanda broke your trance once again, touching your chin in a firm grip, forcing you to look at her.

"Thank you, Wanda," you replied softly, in an almost submissive tone. Almost. The exhaustion of the day weighed on your shoulders, and Wanda’s sweet voice left you weak, hypnotizing you and slowly turning you into a needy kitten.

"Good girl." She caressed your face with her fingertips, almost as if you were a raw diamond—precious and ready to be shaped. By her. By her hands.

You hadn’t noticed—perhaps due to exhaustion—but Wanda's hands were trembling. The woman trembled as she touched you, as she felt the warmth emanating from your fragrant, untouched skin. Wanda felt blessed, as if finally that scared kitten was learning to trust her.

"We’ll see each other tomorrow, yes? Good night, beautiful girl." She didn’t want to say goodbye to you. She wanted to stay, make you kneel, rest your head on her lap, and stroke the top of your head to hear you purr.

The mark she left on you lingered until you fell asleep, embedding itself under your skin, making you dream of her, of her floral scent—it was something citrusy. Orange? Lemongrass, perhaps? The fragrance clung to your body, your mind, and suddenly, Yale seemed like a distant dream, and Wanda was the only thing you could dream about.

~*~

Poor S/n... A milf caught her.

Tag list <3

@rosekjsses @vyvvycg @3liyuh

If I forget someone, pls remind me in the comments!

[astrobiscuits]

Chiron persona chart obs

WARNING: BRIEF MENTIONS OF ED, S*ICIDE, S*XUAL AB*SE. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND NOT TO READ THIS POST IF YOU'RE VERY SENSITIVE thank you

Stelliums show us where our main trauma or wound lies:

Stellium in Aries/1st house - body image issues/body dysmorphia, hating ones face and wanting to change it at all cost, being so focused on ones trauma that it results in excessive independence

Stellium in Taurus/2nd house - self worth issues, hating ones voice and/or being made fun of for how ones voice sounds, excessive shopping due to fear of having nothing, having stash of cash hidden everywhere in the house due to being scared of getting robbed

Stellium in Gemini/3rd house - being too scared to speak to others, hating the way you express yourself, being an overachiever at school due to fear of being seen as "stupid", fear of being run over by a bicycle or a car

Stellium in Cancer/4rd house - family problems (divorced parents, one of the parents is out of the picture for whatever reason, family members dealing with addictions, family abuse), issues when it comes to comforting yourself in times of crisis, HEAVY abandonment issues

Stellium in Leo/5th house - had to grow up too fast instead of enjoying childhood, fear of not being "the perfect parent", fear of not making it in the industry (for those pursing creative careers or following their passions), issues regarding getting pregnant and delivering a child, fear of being burned by the sun or by fire

Stellium in Virog/6th house - fear of contacting an incurable disease, issues regarding eating disorders, trauma regarding messy spaces, which results in OCD

Stellium in Libra/7th house - issues caused by getting cheated in a relationship, fear of trusting someone in a one-on-one connection, trauma resulted from business affairs which have gone wrong

Stellium in Scoprio/8th house - fear of death, issues caused by sexual trauma/sexual abuse, grooming, stalking, human trafficking, mysterious disappearances, divorce, taxes, loans

Stellium in Sagittarius/9th house - fear of not being able to experience everything one has always wanted, issues caused by not living to ones full potential, fear of travelling too far away, religious trauma

Stellium in Capricorn/10th house - fear of being forgotten and not standing out, issues regarding not looking & acting in a professional manner when needed, fear of not being promoted in ones career, the trauma is very visible to the public

Stellium in Aquarius/11th house - fear of not fitting in a crowd or a friend group, issues regarding being part of LGBTQ+ or a subculture often dismissed (POC, people with disabilities, orphanage kids, emos), trauma related to the country's government and (possible) implications in war, fear of dying in a natural disaster (earthquake, tsunami, volcano), fear of dying by electrocution or in an airplane crash

Stellium in Pisces/12th house - fear of being admitted to a prison, asylum or nursing home, having frequent thoughts of unaliving onself, fear of drowning, fear of what happens after death, fear of being misunderstood or made fun of for hearing voices and seeing things which aren't real

Moon shows us how we process our trauma and wounds:

Moon in Aries/1st house : screams, throws things around (maybe also breaks a few things), if anyone reminds them of their wounds/traumas, they'd literally break that person's neck; they might recklessly drive, play with fire or drink excessively out of anger

Moon in Taurus/2nd house : resorts to retail therapy, cooks their favourite meals, gets some comfy pillow and blankets and watches their favourite show; they're slow to heal their wounds, but they manage to do so

Moon in Gemini/3rd house : overanalyzes what happened to the point that they've thought of every scenario possible, (if they have more than one wound/trauma) switches between wounds, is usually open about their wounds and traumas with siblings and acquaintances

Moon in Cancer/4th house : cries 24/7, acts distant with people who are not close to them and defensive with those who want to talk about their feelings; they tend to have very, very unhealthy coping mechanisms (aka they resort to self-harm)

Moon in Leo/5th house : transforms their pain & wounds into a form of art - whether it's through dancing, painting, singing, acting, photography, videography; sometimes they might not recognize how much their past affects them, especially around others, they boast about how "it wasn't that bad" even though they're clearly affected by what happened

Moon in Virgo/6th house : focuses on the details, what they could have done better and what they didn't, easily becomes anxious, cleaning the house becomes a form of therapy for them; in case of physical wounds, they document themselves very well (sometimes they are even able to heal themselves, since this Moon sign in Chiron persona chart has a sort of 6th sense about medicinal procedures)

Moon in Libra/7th house : their s/o knows every pain, wound and traumas they've ever experienced, analyzes the past in a logical manner and tries to find a healthy coping mechanism, without hurting anyone else in the process; listens to sad, romantic songs

Moon in Scorpio/8th house : if someone else is guilty for their wounds/traumas, they're going to plot revenge and execute their plan in a discreet manner; often jealous, they might pursue fwb connections to stop thinking about their pain; the ones who manage to deal with their past in a healthy manner become a completely different person in the process

Moon in Sagittarius/9th house : dealing with their wounds/traumas opens a new world for them, they end up adopting a new set of beliefs as a coping mechanism, travelling to another country to get some space from their surroundings helps them heal

Moon in Capricorn/10th house : replays the past over and over again, they numb their emotions, if asked about their wounds/traumas, they answer very stoic; they also tend to be more realistic and don't like to tell themselves lies or hear lies about their trauma

Moon in Aquarius/11th house : resorts to technology to cope with the pain, is usually open about their wounds and traumas with their friends or on social media, but not with family; they might try some unusual coping mechanisms

Moon in Pisces/12th house : they isolate themselves from everyone in order to cope with the pain, meditation and breathing techniques are their to-go methods of calming their anxiety down; if they don't manage to cope in a healthy way, they dissociate and go through a depersonalization process or an addiction takes over them (drinking, smoking, they overuse medication etc.)

Jupiter shows us where we're blessed, but fail to see. The stronger the modality, the more obvious it is to other people.

♃ Jupiter in fixed signs (Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius) and/or fixed houses (2nd house, 5th house, 8th house, 11th house) are extremely blessed and everyone is able to notice, but the native.

♃ Jupiter in cardinal signs (Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn) and/or cardinal houses (1st house, 4th house, 7th house, 11th house) are blessed, but only a specific category of people notice it.

♃ Jupiter in mutable signs (Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces) and/or mutable houses (3rd house, 6th house, 9th house, 12th house) are still blessed, but the effect is hardly noticeable to anyone.

Those with:

Grand Trine/Kite/Yod (Finger of God)

Sun, Jupiter, North Node and ruler of the chart conjuncting MC and/or placed in 10th/11th house (minimum 2 placements)

Stellium in 10th house/11th house

-> have got amazing healing abilites and often end up pursuing careers where they help & heal society (usually as doctors, therapists, spiritual advisors, social workers, advocates who actually make a difference, etc.) They usually become famous for their healing gifts.

Other small considerations:

Ascendant shows us how we are perceived at first glance when we are dealing with pain

IC shows us how we are perceived by our family (or in a safe, secluded place) when we are dealing with pain

DSC shows us how we are perceived by our partner or best friend when we are dealing with pain

MC shows us how we are perceived in public (or in our career) when we are dealing with pain

North Node shows us our salvation (where we need to focus on in order to heal)

🕊 Sun trine Moon & Sun sextile Moon individuals have an easier time healing their traumas and wounds

🕊 Sun opposite Saturn & Sun square Saturn individuals feel the need to rebel from their father/grandparents, norms that have been imposed on them, old customs & traditions, institutions/government, in order to heal themselves

[oldsoul007]

off script

nicholas chavez x co-star!reader

summary: nicholas and reader pull a publicity stunt to promote their new movie but maybe theres something more…

During a promotional interview for our movie, the interviewer couldn't help but notice the way Nicholas looked at me. With a curious smile, the interviewer leaned forward and said, "Nicholas, I have to ask—there's something in the way you look at y/n. It's like there's more than just acting going on here."

Nicholas glanced at me , his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. He chuckled nervously before responding, "Well, you know, we've spent a lot of time together for this movie. It's hard not to develop a certain... connection."

The interviewer raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to the story. "A connection, you say? It seems like it's more than just a professional one."

I felt her heart skip a beat as i looked at Nicholas. I could see the sincerity in his eyes. "We've become really good friends through this process," i added, trying to keep my voice steady.

Nicholas nodded, but the look he gave me spoke volumes. It was a look filled with admiration and something deeper, something that couldn't be hidden even under the bright lights of the interview set. The interviewer smiled knowingly, leaving the audience to wonder if there was more to their story than just a movie.

So of course mine and nicholas publicists had a brilliant idea to generate buzz for our upcoming movie. They decided to stage a publicity stunt, wanting us to pretend to be a couple. The plan was simple: act like they were dating, make a few public appearances together, and let the media do the rest.

Of course Cooper, was in on it and went ballistic, because he always couldn't help but tease us about how perfect we would look together.

At first, it was all fun and games. We attended premieres, had dinner dates in front of paparazzi, and even posted cute pictures on social media. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and soon, our "relationship" became the talk of the town. Fans were ecstatic, and the movie's anticipation skyrocketed.

However, as we spent more time together, something unexpected happened. The line between acting and reality began to blur. I couldn't deny the fluttering in my heart whenever Nicholas was around. We shared laughs, deep conversations, and moments that felt all too real.

Cooper, who had always shipped us, noticed the change. "You know, you two aren't just good actors," he said one evening. "I think there's something real here."

Me and Nicholas exchanged glances, both realizing that Cooper might be right. What started as a publicity stunt had turned into something much more profound. We had discovered genuine feelings for each other, and the world could see it too.

As we made our way to the quiet corner of the studio, Nicholas turns to me, his heart pounding. "Y/n, can we talk for a minute?" he asked, his voice tinged with nervousness.

I nodded, my curiosity piqued. "Of course, Nic. What's on your mind?"

Taking a deep breath, Nicholas gathered his thoughts. "During the interview, when the interviewer mentioned the way I look at you, it made me realize something important," he began, his eyes searching hers for understanding. "I've been trying to keep my feelings in check, but I can't ignore them anymore."

My eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and anticipation flickering across her face. "Nic, what are you trying to say?"

Nicholas stepped closer, his voice soft but filled with conviction. "Y/n, I want something more, Working on this movie with you, spending all this time together, it's made me see that my feelings for you are real. It's not just the characters we played; it's us."

For a moment, there was silence as I processed his words. Then, a smile slowly spread across my face, my eyes shining with emotion. "Nicholas, I’ve felt the same way, but I was afraid to say anything."

Relief and joy washed over Nicholas as he closed the distance between them, grabbing my face and pulling me in for a heated kiss. "I'm so glad you feel the same," he whispered, his voice full of emotion in between kisses.

The movie's release was a massive success, but more importantly, Nicholas and i found something truly special in each other.

[tarotbyjam24]

What are you manifesting in 2025 ?

Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated :) thankyou for stopping by <3 🌷

disclaimer : Reading may or may not resonate . Take only what resonates leave the rest .🧚🏻

Pile 1 pile 2

pile 3 pile 4

Pile 1 :

Hi pile 1 let's check your accomplishments for this year :) I see you're getting so many good opportunities your way this year . There may be also possibility of you having your alone and silent time where no one disturbs you may be you get disturbed by so many people often . Another thing's I'm getting you getting worried about things that aren't for you that'll keep you awake in nights resulting in anxiety, poor mental health and skin issues so I'll say don't worry too much go with the flow take outmost care of yourself. Possibly you'll let your fears out infront of others things you've been holding for a while you're finally letting them go . You've been strong for so long but this one things will break you leading to let your all inner frustrations out and making you feel lighter finally . You'll finally stand for yourself pile 1 it's your era this time . We're finally getting to the real pile 1 without mask in the limelight and how powerful n strong they're. I also feel this year you'll catch people's attention more than usual which may be good for some people if they're looking for some more connections with world . Also pile 1 you're manifesting having some celebrations seems like it's been long since you went to some good parties and marriages. I also see some love connections for y'all who are interested in romantic relationships. This may also result in marriages. Some you're also manifesting apartments for yourself which I see happening this year so congratulations babe! I also see you not feeling like a bone in chicken and putting yourself out more . You may have felt like a outcast for sometime but not anymore. This year I see you being more vulnerable and having happy tears too ! You may also workout on the things that are already around and not looking too far or making long term goal . Sometimes it's good to have short term goals and short term goals leading to long term goals in the end . Happy New year ✨💗 BLESS YOU ALL 🧸

pick a cards

pile 2 :

Hi pile 2 let's see what you're manifesting in 2025 . First of all I'm getting you're manifesting to get more opportunities offered for you but you all need to be receptive for it . You may also be manifesting some more connections in life like expanding your friend circle or work related colleagues . Some of you may also be manifesting to cross\breaking the boundaries or rules that aren't really suitable to follow . Some of you are also manifesting to get promotion at your jobs or just getting more earning options in general . I'm also hearing this line from halsey's song 'without me '

Tell me how's it feel sittin' up there?

Feeling so high but too far away to hold me

You know I'm the one who put you up there

Name in the sky

Does it ever get lonely?

Well I wanna tell you it's not always lonely up there and it feels amazing to reach on the place where noone has reached yet:) I'm also getting you're manifesting new people in your love life if you're single. You could also be getting some confessions and roses . I'm so happy for you all <3 and if you're in relationship than the hardships that you were facing will soon be solved and harmony will be there . I also feel that you are putting yourself out more and letting yourself enjoy the world because you before didn't do that .I also feel you are manifesting to have a pet animal in your life . Next thing you are manifesting is to have a balance between the extremes and lows . It could be you having your meals at time and not binging or starving yourself, having balance between the jobs and school. You're also manifesting to travel probably going abroad too . That's all pile 2 I hope you enjoyed the reading . Happy New year ✨💗BLESS YOU ALL 🧸

pick a cards

pile 3 :

Hi pile 3 let's see what you're manifesting in 2025 ,I see you're keep your focus on you maybe this year you're getting more into sprituality and practicing sprituality more . You're manifesting to build your inner strength more becoming more stronger to face the outer world . You may also be manifesting geting outta relationships which aren't working because of communication gaps . After you becoming more stronger I see you're manifesting to putting yourself out more ,enjoying the world ,getting into more social interactions,sharing your light with the people around you . You're manifesting to take charge of your life . You're manifesting to remove those people from life who tried to control you and tried to make you walk on the paths they pave for you but now you're paving your path ,being responsible for yourself more . And this is gonna give a new insight about life and how intresting,lively it is to live more on your own morals and values . Although life may challenge you more to test your waters but don't drown pile 3 you're still having ground under your feet and know that you can feel the land it's not that deep . Don't feel tied down and swim\walk outta it . If possible ask for help from people around you . It's not bad to take some guidance from young and old people :) also don't get stuck on your point of view be open to other people's point of view they may help you to see new horizons and open your eyes to new heights. Take care of your health and rest more to rejuvenate yourself . You may also get so many responsibilities but don't take so many responsibilities at once to fulfill as it may lead to you having sour behaviour with others .Happy New year ✨💗BLESS YOU ALL 🧸

pick a cards

pile 4 :

Hi pile 4 ,let's see what you're manifesting in 2025 . I see you're manifesting to get reading for giving exams or landing a job and you're succeeding in it . I also feel you're manifesting to return to your home after long time and you're looking forward to it excitingly . I'm also seeing you're manifesting to get healed from your past traumas and caring more about your health be it physical or mental. You're taking certain steps that are required to keep you healthy. Stay strong pile 4 ! I'm also seeing you're recovering from the people who have hurt you by their words or physically. I feel things that were disturbing you are getting away from,letting you focus on your goals .I also see you're manifesting to get in flow for everything things arranging themselves for you accordingly. I also see you're putting your all focus cutting of everything like everything to lock in . Your reading is more focused on you being super duper focused on the things that you're working towards . You're putting everything off for your this one important goal . I'm so happy with the focus you're putting in . I know you're gonna succeed pile 4 . You got this ! Duh !! Lastly I wanna say don't forget to eat and have fun with your close friends and family . Please share your burdens with them,don't carry it all alone.Happy New year ✨💗BLESS YOU ALL 🧸

pick a cards

Thankyou so much for letting me read for you .I'm very grateful that I'm able to share my abilities with you all . It's been a great experience. Reading may or may not resonate with you since it's a general reading . Please take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so . If the reading doesn't resonate there were no messages for you through this reading ! 🤍🧚🏻I'm grateful if you read the reading . Wishing you all the great week ahead 🎀 and happy holidays!

💕 love ,jam

[botanicalsword]

Solar Return • What likely bring you benefits in the second half of the year

Solar Return — As the sun moves through different areas of your life,  it highlights what will be the focus for you and which area can you can bring you benefits in the later half of the year

>> Solar Returns • Sun placement • Part I >> Solar Returns • Sun placement • Part II >> Career • A Sudden Change - What Happens Next? ✧ Solar Return / Lunar Return

Sun in 1st House - a time for you to take the initiative and actively seek out resources. Put in the hard work to achieve your goals

Sun in 2nd House - Your financial situation is looking much better. Focus on your job, and aim for promotions and raises

Sun in 3rd House - your hobbies might open up new ways for you to make money, so be sure to explore them

Sun in 4th House - you will receive strong support from your family, and you may also have good luck with real estate

Sun in 5th House -  romantic relationships could bring you financial benefits, and there’s even a chance you might win something

Sun in 6th House - if you work hard in your daily tasks, you can expect your salary to increase steadily

Sun in 7th House - you may find that your wealth comes from partnerships or close relationships. 

Sun in 8th House - you can look forward to unexpected financial gains, such as bonuses or profit-sharing

Sun in 9th House - engaging on the internet or leverage through your knowledge can help you earn money 

Sun in 10th House - financial opportunities will be plentiful, so concentrate on advancing your career

Sun in 11th House - you will receive help from influential people, and your network will expand, allowing you to benefit financially from your connections

Sun in 12th House - good luck is coming your way, and you might find yourself unexpectedly gaining some money

>> more on Solar Returns

>> Back to Masterlist ✧ Explicit Content

Quick Access to : ❥ Astro / Asteroid Indicators ❥ Synastry / Composite Chart Observations ❥ House Stellium Observations ❥ Astro basic info / Brief reads ❥ Asteroid database ❥ Personal studies ✧ spiritual journal

Exclusive access : Patreon

/ instagram : @le.sinex / @botanicalsword

[nothorses]

Let's Talk About Baeddels.

An (updated) retrospective on Tumblr's movement to make gender essentialism trans-friendly.

This post contains excepts from a longer article on Medium. If you have the time, please read the full article! I also request that you link the longer article if you use this as a source.

All links have been updated with archived versions of posts that have since been deleted (and otherwise might be deleted or lost sometime in the future). I have revised some sections, and included more context and examples, in order to clarify and strengthen arguments.

Disclaimer

Transmisogyny is real, and requires much more acknowledgement than it currently receives. The trans community is very much capable of transmisogyny, and often does enact or enable it; likewise, trans people also often enact and enable transphobia against other parts of the trans community. Trans women suffer at least as much as the rest of us, and trans women — as a class — are not privileged, and do not hold the power to oppress anyone else.

If you take only one thing away from this post, take this:

Trans people all need to work on being better allies to each other. None of us can gain anything without the rest of us.

Establishing an Ideology

The first post on Baeddelism was by Tumblr user @unobject, on October 2nd, 2013:

The post was quickly liked by @lezzyharpy, also one of the first to call themselves “Baeddels”.

This post first provided the name and defining ideology of the Baeddel movement. The implication of the post was, essentially, that because the root of the word “bad” was “baeddel”, and because “baeddel” referred to intersex people and “womanish men”, this old English slur was proof that transmisogyny was the worst form of bigotry; and even, perhaps, the root of all bigotry. (It’s worth noting that this interpretation of the etymology has been problematized.)

While @unobject was the first person to make this connection, @autogynephile (“Eve”) eventually became, in essence, the figurehead of the movement. Of the other Baeddels, some of them were explicitly aware and supportive of the ideology behind Baeddelism, some of them were young or newly-out trans women seduced by the personalities involved, and some of them were tangential enough to the movement that their understanding of it was wholly different from the understanding those at the core of the movement held and promoted. Baeddelism was a sort of trend, for a time, and many participants wore the name without entirely knowing what it meant.

It’s important to acknowledge that as much as there were dedicated members of Baeddelism, and as much as there was a unified ideology behind it, there were also individual Baeddels who did not understand — let alone support — the ideology.

The Ideology

Baeddels essentially built upon the foundation of @monetizeyourcat’s ideology that had been gaining traction on Tumblr in the years prior, with some additions that ultimately defined their movement:

Transmisogyny is the form of oppression from which all (or most) other forms of oppression stem.

Privilege is granted on the basis of assigned sex. (“AFAB” or “Assigned Female at Birth” vs. “AMAB” or “Assigned Male at Birth”)

These fundamentals of Baeddelism were essentially a rebranded form of Radical Feminism. In particular, they drew from the Radical Feminist idea that misogyny was the “primary” form of oppression; that which all other oppression stemmed from. Baeddels only tweaked this idea to replace “misogyny” with “transmisogyny”, which led to the rest of the conclusions Baeddels drew:

There is no “transphobia”

All “transphobia” stems from transmisogyny first, and transphobia as it impacts non-trans-women (or, sometimes, non-transfeminine people) is incidental.

There is no “Trans”

If “transphobia” isn’t real, what else is left of the transgender identity?

While this is by no means the dominant understanding of transgender identity or community, the equivocation of oppression to identity is, in many ways, core to Baeddel ideology (and we see the lasting impact of this in still-widely-used “TME/TMA” termingology). By this logic, if transphobia doesn’t exist, neither does trans identity or trans community (though they obviously believed that transmisogyny, and subsequently trans women, do). Therefore, there are no “trans men”, and belief in the existence of “nonbinary people” is highly contingent on whether an individual believes in the oppression of nonbinary people.

“AFAB Privilege”

The idea that within the queer and/or trans community, people who were AFAB/CAFAB (Assigned Female At Birth) receive unique privilege and positions of power that people who were AMAB/CAMAB (Assigned Male at Birth, a counterpart to “AFAB” and “CAFAB”) do not.

Trans Lesbian Separatism

… was what the movement was ultimately defined by, as the logical conclusion of their other beliefs (much like Lesbian Separatism was the logical conclusion of Radical Feminist beliefs).

Baeddels believed that only trans women can understand, or be truly safe for, other trans women; therefore, contact with anyone who was not a trans woman was deemed “dangerous” and highly discouraged.

Trans Men

… also played an important role in Baeddel ideology, and the resulting treatment of trans men is what is often remembered today. Baeddels generally believed the following, either explicitly or implictly:

Trans men are not oppressed, or experience so little oppression that it hardly matters.

Trans men do not experience misogyny, even prior to transition.

Trans men have access to male privilege, or trans men have an easier time passing, and frequently go “stealth”; thus benefiting from male privilege as well as cis privilege.

Trans men are often (or always) misogynistic and transmisogynistic, and are not held accountable for this.

Trans men oppress cis women.

Trans women enacting violence on trans men is “punching up” at oppressors, and therefore not only permitted, but encouraged.

Trans men are inherently violent, or become aggressive and violent when they go on testosterone HRT (Hormone Replacement Therapy)

The impact of this ideology is often discussed among transmasculine people because of the depth of harm it caused, directly and indirectly — and it was very much intended to. Harm caused to transmascs was not only permitted or excused, it was often actively celebrated.

Nonbinary People

… are often overlooked when summarizing Baeddelism, but Baeddels did have plenty to say about them. Baeddel ideology relied on the idea that privilege was granted on the bases of assigned sex, and nonbinary people’s genders were thus treated as irrelevent; they essentially did not believe nonbinary people truly existed.

CAFAB nonbinary people are either trans men attempting to invade women’s spaces, or cis women pretending to be trans.

CAMAB nonbinary people are actually just trans women who haven’t accepted it yet. They must transition, or they are transmisogynistic.

Intersex People

Intersex experiences, and intersex history, were often co-opted and erased by Baeddelism. This was often more a byproduct of their beliefs than an overtly-stated idea, but most notably, the term “Baeddel” itself is likely more applicable- if not exclusively applicable- to intersex people, rather than trans women. Making their reclamation of it as a “transmisogynistic slur”, or their claim that the word’s existence means that “transmisogyny is the root of all oppression”, incredibly ignorant- if not actively harmful misinformation.

Notably, Baeddels also believed that intersex people- being “more androgynous” (a harmful misonception)- were able to pass more easily as the opposite assigned sex, and that intersex people (even within transfemme spaces) had “intersex privilege”. Some even believed, and openly claimed, that intersex people were “hermaphroditic”; a slur against intersex people, and typically implying that the individual has both sets of reproductive systems simultaneously.

Trans Women

… did not receive universally positive treatment, either. Baeddelism was very much a cult-like group built around the firmly-held conviction that they were absolutely correct, and that anyone who disagreed with them was The Enemy. Trans women who disagreed with them were generally seen as brainwashed and self-hating, and trans women who did agree with them were expected to subjugate themselves to the ringleaders of the movement.

Within Baeddel circles, trans women were most frequently victimized by the abusers allowed to run rampant because “trans women do not, and cannot, harm anyone else.” — including, apparently, each other.

“They were also bad shitty abusive people in general. “… a bunch of them passed around a pile of smear campaigns and false rumors about virtually any trans woman that they had a even the slightest animosity for. Including the victim of the kinkster rapist. They’ve done other fucked stuff, like chased two twoc off this site for trying to make a zine, but yeah. That’s like, just some of it. I’m not up for going over the messy details of the whole shitparade. “Full disclosure, I made a lot of excuses for these sacks of crap, even while they were out there spreading false crap about me […] I wasn’t aware of the worst shit they were doing until much much later.” - @punlich

Inside the Movement

Though individual Baeddels often existed in vastly different social circles from each other- particularly offline- those who lived through the movement highlight commonalities in their experiences.

One interviewee recounts the manipulation present in their initial involvement with the movement:

“It came to me at a point where I was very quick to weaponize anything anyone told me about their experiences, because I was always a fighter. I’ve been an activist for a long time, you know, and when these trans women would come to me with their experiences I would believe them. I wanted to. But the way they acted didn’t add up when compared to what they were saying. I felt really lonely there, and stupid all the time. I felt like I was being a bad trans person.” […] “Online they were more willing to say things that were, for lack of a better word, stupid. They would say things that lacked any kind of logical sense. But in person, they would go into this kind of toxic femininity- this weaponization of weakness. And I think that’s because online they were often in these echochambers, but in person they had to rely on much more subtle manipulation.” - Vera

It seems at points that the environment created within this movement- and the social circles that composed it- was almost cult-like in nature and in need for control.

“It was very isolating. I didn’t see my friends for a while, I was kind of just living with them, cooking and cleaning for them, starving myself, and slowly growing crazy. I was just being consumed by this weird academia and theory that had no basis, because everything was online and Tumblr-based.” - Vera

Perhaps most chilling, however, are the patterns in their attitudes toward sexual assault. One interviewer recounts being subject to sexual assault, and upon posting about their experience to a Facebook group, being met with hostility from Baeddels present in the group- who quickly used their social influence to have them banned from some of their only support systems at the time.

“I ended up with pretty much no one to talk to about the experience at a time when I was already really, really struggling, and it’s one of several factors that led to me dropping out. “The Baeddel who got me banned also messaged me directly at some point during all of this, and I tried to get her to understand the pain she was causing me. She basically laughed it offand said it was my fault. She seemed to find a lot of joy in how much it hurt me, and blocked me soon after.” - Anonymous

Another recounts sexual consent violations from a friend-turned-Baeddel:

“[My ex-friend] had previously been fetish-mining me for her mommy kink. I was freshly estranged from my own mum, and she stepped in to be like, “I’m your new mum now,” and would pester me to call her “mum” in Welsh- as at that point she was going by a Welsh name. I played along, but it transpired that she was basically using that to get off, and she had a thing for infantilising transmascs and being this mum/mom figure.” - Luke

And yet another interviewee discusses verbal sexual harassment during interactions with another Baeddel:

“I had one [Baeddel] directly tell me that I’m beneath her as a trans man, and that I should “Shut my smelly cooch up” and only use my voice to uplift trans women. I was a minor at the time. “She then sicced her followers on me, and they bombarded me with messages telling me I’d “never be a real man”, that I needed to “sit on the side and allow them to have the spotlight”, and even telling me to kill myself- because I was inherently toxic to them. I was 16 years old, pre everything, and I couldn’t even pass at the time. They didn’t seem to care that I was a minor, or a newly hatched egg.” - Anonymous

While Baeddel ideology itself does not explicitly condone or excuse sexual assault, it’s striking how common these stories are; especially considering how small in numbers actual Baeddels were.

It was, in fact, this exact problem that would eventually cause the movement to dissolve.

The Downfall of Baeddelism

Sometime between the group’s formation in 2013 and their downfall near the end of 2014, @autogynephile (also “Eve”), the defacto “ringleader” of the Baeddel movement, began what Baeddels referred to as a “transbian safehouse”.

This was apparently intended as a place for unhoused trans woman lesbians and trans women who, in general, had sworn off contact with men; the ultimate goal of the lesbian separatist ideology at the core of the Baeddel movement. It was thus also referred to as a “commune” by some, and as a “cult” by others.

One occupant of the “safehouse”- Elle- later posted to Tumblr that they had been raped by Eve during their stay, and detailed their experiences.

The Baeddels, rather than believing the victim and ousting the rapist from their movement, chose to close ranks around Eve instead.

Various reasons were given for this:

The victim must be lying

The victim- and anyone who believed them- was simply transmisogynistic.

Anyone who disagrees with the Baeddels is an Enemy Of The Movement, a “carceral thinker”, and a danger to trans women as a whole.

Trans women are incapable of sexually abusing anyone.

“Standing with Eve” was the ultimate sign of loyalty to the movement, and thus a mark of pride and honor.

It was okay to keep being a Baeddel no matter what, because Rape Accusations Should Be A Personal Matter.

(You can read more about Eve’s own denial of these events here and here.)

Years later, even people involved in the initial group have spoken out against the movement and actions of those involved:

“I was in ~the Baeddels~ for years and like… we straight up did horrible shit. “We harassed anyone that disagreed for any reason, our politics were terrible, our isolationism made an environmental ripe for abuse that I have firsthand experience of, there is nothing in that group worth salvaging or defending. “Also acting like people are just bringing this up out of the blue is silly like… it’s being brought up because people are still trying to defend the shit we did instead of fucking recognizing that it was wrong. “Creating this myth that hate on the Baeddels is just a way of keeping trans women in line is a tacit defense of the horrid shit we did.” - @lezzyharpy

“like I’m sorry but I served my time in shitty awful Baeddel group in early mid 2012s and it fucking sucked ass.” “… Like it’s straight up cult-like the way you build this self-reinforcing network wherein ayone on the outside looking in with any criticism is unsafe, not to be trusted, only there to hurt trans women, and the only people you can trust is this self-selected group of trans women.” - @lezzyharpy

Why It Matters, and Why Baeddelism Never Really Fell

Baeddelism itself has seen multiple attempts at resurgences by various individuals, including documented experiences with self-proclaimed Baeddels as recently as 2018- well after the movement first “fell” in 2014.

Most proponents of “Baeddelism 2.0”, a revival of the original movement, argue that the abuse that occurred within the original movement was either completely fabricated by detractors (sound familiar?) or, at minimum, not actually inherent to the ideology.

And, of course, there are some original Baeddels still active on Tumblr today.

Baeddelism never actually went away.

“Baeddelism” was only one name for a set of beliefs that existed long before the specific term did, and hasn’t gone anywhere since the original Baeddel movement died down.

What the Baeddels did was put a name to the ideology @monetizeyourcat was cultivating before them, and what Cat did was popularize, centralize, and justify a way of thinking that had existed before she ever made her blog.

This ideology has since been referred to, loosely, as “TIRF-ism”: Trans-Inclusive Radical Feminism.

It is rare that anyone actually refers to themselves as a “TIRF”, and there is no real centralized TIRF movement; rather, a loose collection of radical feminist beliefs circulates various transgender spaces. The validity of these beliefs is generally taken for granted: of course (trans) women are The Most Oppressed People; of course (trans) women are Inherently and Unequivocally Victims In All Situations; of course (trans) men are Inherently Oppressors; of course (trans) men are Dangerous and Evil… and so on.

Like Radical Feminism, and subsequently Trans-Exlcusive Radical Feminism (TERF-ism), those ideas are fundamentally dangerous.

The defining tenants of radical feminism are that misogyny is the root of all oppression, and that rather than misogyny being an issue of power and control on a society-wide level, it is instead, or also, a matter of oppression and privilege on an individual level: men are always oppressors, and women are always victims.

These beliefs fundamentally exclude and erase the experiences of other marginalized people.

Namely, people of color and indigenous people, who’s experiences with and concepts of gender do not fall within the strict and rigid lines that white, western, colonialist people’s do.

Radical feminism is not a redeemable ideology. It cannot be reshaped into something good. It is fundamentally broken, and the movements born from it- lesbian separatism, political lesbianism, TERF-ism, TIRF-ism, and Baeddelism- are proof enough of that. They each promote only surface-level variations of what is fundamentally cult-like thinking: only the in-group can be victimized. Only the in-group is safe; the out-group is inherently and universally dangerous. Only the in-group understands you. All members of the in-group are, fundamentally, incapable of abuse.

We cannot allow these ideas to be perpetuated within or without the trans community.

Learn the Signs & Prevent Harm

Here’s what we can do to prevent this from happening again:

Learn what Baeddel ideology and TIRFism look like, even detached from the name.

Learn what radical feminism looks like, even detached from the name. Even from people who claim to oppose radical feminism.

Act on dogwhistles. Call them what they are.

Do not allow people to downplay the harm all forms of Radical Feminism have caused. Remind each other that Radical Feminism is not a redeemable ideology, and seek out other branches of feminism instead.

Remember the harm that has been caused. Remember that it will be caused again if these things are allowed to go unchecked.

Listen to and uplift marginalized people. Allow them to speak to their own experiences, identify their own needs, and name their own oppression.

Remember who the real oppressors are, and do not pit marginalized people against each other. The people perpetuating and benefiting from transphobia are cis people- and more specifically, cis people in power.

Build solidarity with other marginalized people. One group of trans people cannot gain liberation without liberating all trans people, and one group of trans people cannot be targeted without the rest of us suffering as well.

Remember that there is no group or identity incapable of enacting abuse, violence, harassment, or other harm against another. Victimhood should not be determined based solely on an individual’s identity.

Remember that there are no acceptable targets for violence, cruelty, harassment, and abuse.

For more context and a list of red flags, read the rest of the article here:

[pixiefelixie]

Peach to my Mario

pairing — idolbf!leeknow x f!reader (From the Unveiling Love series!)

word count — 2.7k words

warnings — she/her reader, tiny bit of angst, stress, tooth-rotting fluff

summary — Minho always avoids showing affection to you in public which makes his friends and members worry about his relationship, thinking it might not be healthy. However, in private, Minho’s a completely different person. One day, he comes home early and takes the chance to invite you over. During a little gaming sesh, his members accidentally walk in on him being overly sweet with you.

It was just part of Minho's nature to avoid PDA. He never showed affection when you were out with friends, and he wasn't the type of guy to show you off or post you on social media, even on his private account. When you first started dating, you went out to dinner with Minho and some of his members and their partners. It was the first time you were out with him around other people. Whenever you tried to initiate any contact with him, he'd gently push you away and give you a look that said, "Not here," which, at first, bothered you.

This constant habit didn't go unnoticed by his members. They saw how he acted with you around them, which made them worry about your relationship. Some even talked to Minho, suggesting he show more affection, but he always replied with, "I know what I'm doing." This left them wondering, "Are they even a happy couple?" because that's all they knew. They were never shown the real side of Minho in a relationship.

You eventually got used to it over time, as he had a way of making up for it. When you two were alone, he was the sweetest. He showered you with love, and he wasn't afraid to show emotion. It was fascinating to see how different a person he could be depending on the setting, and as his girlfriend, you somewhat liked this duality. When he'd get home from an outing with you, he'd immediately pull you into a hug and smother you with kisses, becoming a completely different person than he was a minute ago.

You didn't complain about the lack of PDA anymore because you were grateful that Minho saw you as someone he could be vulnerable with. He wasn't afraid to share his struggles and ask for your help, and you appreciated the connection you had with him in this way. It was so rare for him to have such a bond with someone, which made it so precious.

One day, Minho arrived at his dorms earlier than usual, and it was a particularly stressful day. They were approaching a comeback, and the choreography needed to be finalized with a tight deadline. A professional choreographer was scheduled to review their dance, and they had to have it perfected by then. The pressure was especially heavy on Minho, as he was responsible for everything, being the main dancer in the group. Comeback season always brought a lot of stress for all of them. The producers had to handle the tracks, and they had to attend numerous meetings discussing potential concerts and promotions.

Usually, during this stressful and overworked period, he would be staying late at the company, leaving little time at home. So, it was rather unusual for him to arrive home early. When Minho reached the door of his dorm, he tossed his bag onto the couch and slumped into a seat. He unscrewed a plastic water bottle and downed it in a few gulps. Minho buried his face in his hands, threw his head back, and released an exasperated sigh.

He took his phone out of the front pocket of his backpack and texted your number.

"y/n, do you have a minute?"

right after he sent it out, it showed as "read," with an icon popping up indicating that you were typing. 

"yea, of course. is everything alright?"

"i just wanna see you. and no one's home yet."

It shocked you that he was home already. You hadn't seen him for two weeks, given how busy he had been and how little time he had for himself. So, to you, it was surprising that he had texted you. You responded with a simple "kk" before getting up and preparing to leave. You were wearing gray sweatpants and one of Minho's shirts, but you decided not to bother changing, as it looked presentable enough. After all, it was just Minho.

You grabbed Minho's keys and phone, locking your own door as you left your apartment. Even though you had a car, navigating the busy downtown Seoul intersections often took longer than walking. Luckily, Minho's dorms were only a few blocks away, making it a short five to ten-minute walk. Upon reaching his building, you scanned your keycard at the lobby and opened the door after hearing the click. Minho had given you an extra keycard so you could visit him, although his roommates were unaware of this, as it wasn't something they would necessarily know.

You rode the elevator up to his floor, which was located quite high up, just one floor below the penthouses. Minho's apartment was notably larger compared to the others in the building, as he shared it with three of his group members. You went down the hallway and stopped when you saw his unit number.

You gently knocked on the door, not wanting to startle him. There was silence, so you decided to try the doorknob, and it turned out to be unlocked. You entered, taking your shoes off at the entrance before quietly making your way to the living room. As you entered the room, you found Minho sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the floor.

"Minho" You called out.

He jumped, snapping out of his thoughts and turned his head towards you. "You scared me"

"Did you not hear me come in?"  You chuckled.

Minho shook his head, a small smile forming on his face. "I guess I was too lost in my own world."

You walked over and sat beside him, giving him a gentle smile. "Long day?" He nodded and leaned into your touch.

You wrapped your arm around him. "What can I do to help you relax?"

Minho sighed, looking at you with gratitude. "Just being here is enough. I missed you."

You smiled, feeling a warm flutter in your chest. "I missed you too, Minho. "

"Thank you for coming," he said.

"Anytime," you replied, snuggling closer to him. "Why are you back so early, hm? Where's everyone else."

"They're still at the company, working on their own stuff now. I needed a break from the choreo, I couldn't think straight anymore," Minho confessed, rubbing his temples.

It was rare for him to take breaks for himself so you were glad he reached out to you in this moment. You continued to comfort him, running your fingers through his hair soothingly.

"You know you don't have to carry all the weight on your own, right?" you reassured him.

Minho nodded, appreciating your support. "I know, it's just... sometimes I forget."

"Well, that's what I'm here for – to remind you," you said with a soft smile.

Minho leaned into your touch, his shoulders relaxing as he let out a deep breath. "I'm lucky to have you," he murmured.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, letting the weight of the day slowly lift off Minho's shoulders. You could sense the exhaustion in him, not just physical but also the mental strain of the responsibilities he carried. 

I gave a him a gentle squeeze. "Wanna play something?"

Minho looked at you, exhaustion still lingering in his eyes but a genuine smile playing on his lips. "That sounds good."

You made your way to the Nintendo Switch (Felix's, obviously) and powered up Mario Kart. As the game loaded, you handed Minho a controller, and soon, both of you were engrossed in the competition. The colorful characters on the screen and the playful banter between you and Minho helped to lighten the atmosphere in the room.

As you played, you couldn't help but notice the transformation in Minho. The stress lines on his face seemed to fade, replaced by genuine smiles and occasional laughter. It was moments like these that made you appreciate the private side of Minho that he rarely showed to the outside world.

"You're gonna lose so bad, Y/n, you don't know," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Yea sure," you shot back, a smirk playing on your lips.

The races became more heated, with Minho throwing himself into the game, making exaggerated gestures as he maneuvered his virtual car. Every time you pulled ahead, he'd let out a theatrical groan, clutching his heart.

"I can't believe you'd do this to me!" he'd exclaim in horror, slumping dramatically in his seat.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Come on, Minho, it's just a game!"

But for Minho, it was more than just a game. It was a battle, a challenge that he took very seriously. When the races got particularly close, he'd lean in closer to the screen, his eyes narrowing in concentration. And when you crossed the finish line first, Minho faked his death right on that couch. He'd plopped onto your lap and stick out his tongue.

As you and Minho continued playing, the atmosphere lightened, and the stress from earlier seemed to dissipate. The room echoed with laughter as the two of you engaged in a fierce Mario Kart competition. 

However, little did you both know that the other boys had finished their work and were on their way back to the dorm. As two of them approached the door, they exchanged glances, wondering if Minho was still immersed in his work or if he had finally decided to take a break.

As the door creaked open, Minho was in the midst of a loud cheer, having won a close race. Your lips formed a fake pout, teasing Minho for his impressive gaming skills. Before you could utter a word, Minho grabbed your face and planted a sweet kiss on your lips. With a satisfied grin, he plopped back down onto your lap, his eyes shifting to the TV which displayed his victory.

His eyes were fixed on the screen, and he didn't notice the entrance of his fellow members. Seungmin and Felix stood frozen for a moment, taking in the unexpected scene before them.

Minho, still admiring his victory, suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere. His eyes flickered from the screen to your face, and then he followed your gaze to the open doorway. There, standing in various states of shock and amusement, were his friends.

Minho's cheerful expression faltered as he registered their presence. He quickly disentangled himself from your lap, clearing his throat awkwardly and avoiding eye contact.

"Hey," he mumbled, attempting to regain his composure.

Minho's sudden change in behaviour didn't go unnoticed by them. The two exchanged puzzled glances, silently communicating their surprise at witnessing a side of Minho they had never seen before.

Seungmin smirked. "Didn't know playing video games could be so... intimate."

Minho's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he tried to brush off the situation. "No, just taking a break from choreo. Y/n happened to drop by."

You offered a friendly wave to the members, trying to diffuse the tension. "Long time no see."

"Didn't know he had such a soft side for you." Felix looked in your direction.

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Minho, you've been keeping this hidden from us."

Minho avoided making eye contact with anyone. "It's not a big deal. We're just hanging out."

Felix interjected, "Alright, alright, let the man breathe. Maybe he's just trying out a new gaming strategy."

Seungmin smirked, "Yeah, because everyone knows that cuddling enhances your Mario Kart skills."

Minho sighed, realizing he was caught in a situation he couldn't easily escape. The members, still amused, decided to join the gaming session, pulling up chairs and grabbing controllers. The atmosphere lightened up again as everyone got immersed in the races. Amidst the gaming chaos, you felt a subtle shift beside you. Glancing at Minho, you noticed a small smile playing on his lips as he looked at you. Seizing the opportunity, you casually leaned against him, and to your surprise, Minho didn't pull away. Instead, he subtly wrapped his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer.

Felix, ever observant, caught the moment and exchanged a knowing look with Seungmin. A mischievous grin spread across Felix's face as he nudged Seungmin, who raised an eyebrow in response. It seemed like the members were enjoying this unexpected revelation of Minho's softer side. Minho's hesitancy towards PDA seemed to going away slightly. He didn't shy away when you rested your head on his shoulder, and he even tickled you a little during one of the races. 

The night turned into a fun and lighthearted gathering, with laughter filling the air as everyone bonded over Mario Kart. The initial surprise at seeing Minho in a more vulnerable and relaxed state slowly faded, replaced by acceptance and genuine enjoyment of the moment. As the clock ticked away, the group decided to take a break from gaming and sat together in the living room, sharing stories and enjoying the dinner Jeongin had eventually brought. It was during these moments that you could see a different side of Minho showing the side that wasn't afraid to be affectionate in front of his friends.

The members of Stray Kids, who had initially been concerned about Minho's reserved nature in public, began to see the depth of his relationship with you. They witnessed the way he looked at you, the way he smiled, and the subtle gestures of affection that spoke volumes about the connection you shared.

After dinner, as the night wound down, the members bid their goodbyes, as you went over to the door to leave. Minho stood up, indicating that he would walk you home. The others exchanged knowing glances, teasing smiles playing on their lips. 

As you and Minho stepped out of the dorm, the cool night air greeted you. The city lights illuminated the streets as you began the short walk to your apartment. The atmosphere was comfortable, a companionable silence settling between you and Minho.

"I appreciate you coming over," Minho said, his tone sincere. "It's been a hectic few weeks, and tonight was exactly what I needed."

"I'm glad I could be here for you," you replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "You don't always have to carry everything on your own, Minho. It's okay to lean on others, especially those who care about you."

He nodded, a grateful smile on his face. "Thank you,"

"Anytime," you replied, giving him a soft smile. "It was nice spending time with everyone."

Minho nodded, his hand finding yours. "I guess they know now," he added with a hint of playfulness.

You chuckled. "Well, it's not a bad thing. They seem to like this side of you."

He smirked. "Yeah, yeah, I can't escape their teasing now. They're gonna tell the other dorm all about it"

You squeezed his hand. "You'll be alright. Besides, it's nice to see you letting your guard down a bit."

Minho leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I guess you have that effect on me."

As you reached your apartment building, you turned to face Minho. "Well, this is me. Thank you for tonight."

Minho smiled, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your lips. "No, thank you. I needed this more than you know."

You both exchanged a loving gaze, the unspoken understanding between you deepening. With a final goodnight, you entered your building, watching as Minho waited until you were safely inside.

As you settled on your couch, you decided to check your social media accounts before getting ready for bed. As you scrolled through your feed, you noticed a notification on Minho's private Instagram account. It surprised you because Minho rarely posted anything on his private account, and he had never posted a picture of the two of you before.

Opening the post, your heart skipped a beat as you saw a candid shot one of his members must've taken from tonight. It perfectly captured the essence of the night – both of you smiling at each other, a shared blanket over your laps, and controllers in hand. 

The caption read: "Peach to my Mario"

Feeling a mix of emotions, you couldn't help but smile at the post. It was a small but significant step for Minho to share a piece of your relationship with the world, even if it was just on his private account. 

"Photo credits?" One of the comments read, from Seungmin.

As you liked and replied to a few comments, you couldn't shake the feeling that this marked a subtle shift in Minho's approach to PDA. Maybe, just maybe, the night had not only been a release for him but also a realization that sharing moments of vulnerability with you and his friends wasn't something to be afraid of.