#How to Overcome Laziness

[fastlane-freedom]

Boost Productivity: 7 Japanese Techniques to Overcome Laziness

In the realm of personal productivity and motivation, Japanese techniques offer valuable insights to conquer laziness and enhance efficiency. From the philosophy of continuous improvement (Kaizen) that encourages gradual progress, to the visual task management approach (Kanban) that transforms daunting tasks into manageable steps, and the profound concepts of purpose-driven living (Ikigai) and…

[medievalanchoress]

🎓📚💫

[sealrock]

febhyurary, day 18: shadow

"when dad was losing his mind, he stopped seeing us. when he lunged at me with that knife, he didn't recognize me. in a short moment of lucidity, he came to realize what he had done to me. after months of watching him sink into a deep, black pit, I finally had my dad back. even now, I could feel how tight he hugged me as he wailed out a thousand apologies... but it was too late. dad was sick, he couldn't sleep and could hardly eat, he lashed out at anything and anyone. his migraines only exacerbated the issue. but mum had been so absorbed in her work back then that she was hardly home to get dad the help he needed. the constant fighting they had ended up pushing her away. she didn't want to deal with dad and how he was deteriorating before our eyes. it wasn't just her; no one helped dad, they pretended nothing was wrong like they do with gammy's 'fits'. but they don't make my blood boil nearly as hot as mum. mum treated him poorly during that period, she put her work above him and above us. when dad finally snapped, she abandoned him in that house. I hated her for it. we were just kids, we had no idea what was going on. the twins don't even remember him, they don't remember how much dad loved them, or how he wished they'd stay small forever. I'll never forget his screams, the desperation in his voice when mum snatched me away. I didn't want to leave him. we locked up any aethograph of dad from that time. we didn't want to remember dad like that, we didn't want to be burdened with those memories. but there was another reason why we stored those away—in almost every aethograph, there's a shadow."

[spilling-blood]

Bram "how dare you doubt me" Stoker

[frowardthinker]

Practicing their likenesses a lil bit.

[sybaritick]

the human-xenos relations in rogue trader are truly so bad for me

[crehador]

package day!

just the two lil pp ginko umbrella stands and finally FINALLY block party today, small but delightful haul rinka goes on loop rn

[stellamarielu]

first thing

jack abbot x female reader

summary: lazy mornings with jack are few and far between, but they always exceed your expectations or jack topping you from the bottom while you ride him first thing in the morning!

content: nsfw, 18+ mdni, literally nothing but smut, established relationship of some sort (let your imaginations run wild), p in v sex, dirty talk bc of course, excessive use of the nickname baby, jack being a veryyy lowkey pleasure dom

word count: 1.1k

author’s note: i’m a firm believer that our dear dr. abbot has a filthy mouth, so of course i had to write something nasty for him. the lack of smut for that smug son of a bitch is criminal. also i am convinced that he would call you baby in bed, but only in bed. i dont think he’d be one for pet names, but something about him being all pussy drunk and calling you baby through low raspy groans. yeah. that is all… enjoy!

“You havin’ fun up there?” Jack’s voice was peppered with self-righteous teasing. His words melted into the air through a lazy drawl as you straddled his lap, his dick buried deep between your legs.

Fifteen minutes ago, you were both fast asleep, bodies intertwined under his linen sheets.

You stirred awake in each other's arms, a tangled mess of limbs in the soft yellow hues of morning light that fought through the blinds. Slow sensual touches on bare skin led to your body on top of his. Feeling the familiar stretch as you sunk down on him, you took your time rolling your hips and coaxing quiet grunts from the man below you before either of you could even think about getting out of bed for the day.

It was rare for you to have an upper hand in the bedroom. When it came to Jack, dominance was his territory, the power associated with it fed his ego. It was uncommon to catch him in a moment of vulnerability, but sometimes you found him trading his strong willed attitude for a more docile demeanor. It often appeared when he was preoccupied or overcome with the need for relief, giving into the soft comfort of your hands on his body. He had to be just needy enough to willingly let take the lead, and even then, he could never fully submit.

He used his words in retaliation.

Maybe his rigid frame would melt under your touch, or his inhibitions would fall to the side at the sound of your pathetic little moans, but he would always rely on his words to remind you who was really in charge. 

“Nice and slow just like that.” The deep rasp of his voice echoed between your bodies; his instruction still laced with sleep. 

A smirk peeked through his slumber worn expression, fingertips resting at the flesh of your waist as your body pressed into his.

His head fell back into the pillow, eyes threatening to close, and you could feel his fingers hug harder into your skin with each rock of your hips.  

“There you go.” He held you, trying his best to let you set the pace, but desperately wanting to tighten his grip and drag you along his body— rough and impulsive. 

Your fucked-out stare scanning him from above was the only thing keeping him in check.

Your pleading eyes begged for control. They practically oozed with desperation as you rode him. It was enough to make his grasp soften as he surrendered to your desire, watching as you used him to please yourself. Used him. His dick pulsed at the notion. 

Jack was addicted to you, mind numbingly obsessed with the soft gasps that fell from your lips every time you came. He swore those sounds alone could give him a buzz unlike any drug. Some nights, he’d make you finish on his fingers so many times he’d lose count. He needed to make you feel good— wanted to watch the way your body reacted to his touch. It held a different kind of control, witnessing you give yourself over to him with your back arched and your head thrown back.

“Show me how you want it baby.” His voice was attentive as he fed into your delusion of power. 

You were grinding into him. Your movements bordering on pitiful with your palm flat against his chest as you held yourself upright. Little whimpers of surrender made their way from your chest with each pass of your hips over his, angling yourself just right so that his tip brushed against the perfect spot with every movement. 

Fluttering shut in the inevitable anticipation of release; your eyes left his. You were basking in the warmth of his hands on your bare body; one of them trailing up your torso, the pads of his fingertips tracing into your skin, higher and higher until,

“Eyes on me.” Delicately, he held the nape of your neck, forcing your stare back on his as he pulled you closer to him. 

You dumbly nodded your head. Handing him back an ounce of authority as you followed his command through a hooded gaze.

“Look at you. So goddamn pretty for me.” 

Your jaw went slack at his words, mouth slightly open and brows knit together as the pressure building in your abdomen threatened its release. 

He could feel each greedy response of your body— could sense your impending orgasm with every clench of your thighs, and he was done letting you take the reins.

His hips snapped up to meet yours. Thrusts moving in tandem with each grind of your hips.

“Shit- you feel too fuckin’ good.” Profanities spilled from his throat at the satisfaction of having full control.

He was holding onto your hips and fucking into you from below. The tensing of your body and the sweet moans dripping from your tongue only adding to his pleasure. You were his. He needed it— craved the promise of your devotion in the breathless praise of his name on your lips.

“Come on baby let me have it.” Growling out in a low moan, he all but begged you to finish for him— finish on him. Pushing you right over the edge with just a few simple words and the persuasive quality of his voice. 

Your walls hugged tight in obedience, a string of whines leaving your throat as you came undone around him.

“There she is.” His statement of recognition seeped with affection while his grip on your hips remained unrelenting.

The high of your release persisted as Jack’s thrusts kept purpose, his hands on your body holding you steady. 

“Got another one for me?” A sadistic warmth took over his voice, and he drove into you harder. The question obviously rhetorical as he made sure to hit the spot that made you clench around him.

The day began around you as gentle sunlight filled the room, but neither of you had a single thought of getting out of bed anytime soon.

[horny-marbles]

How do the different creeps react with a girlfriend that's very physically affectionate? She loves to kiss them hello and goodbye. Loves cuddle with them on the couch and in bed. Sit on their lap. Loves to play with their hair, scratch their scalp. Will sometimes get overcome with love and attack their entire face with kisses.

I myself am very much like this lol. Can be as fluffy (or even smutty) as you wish

me too me too 🙂‍↕️ they'd die smothered by my lips fr. i also added liu (and sully) in here because i thought he was prime material for this lol :p cw for some very mild smutty mentions but nothing too crazy. enjoy! :D

Creepypastas with a Cuddlebug Girlfriend — Headcanons

Eyeless Jack

⚉ it took forever to get here. months of flinches, vanishing acts, stiff body language and cold silences. you were patient, but he really fucking tested it. he kept pulling away like your affection was something poisonous, like he didn’t deserve the warmth in your hands. there were nights you nearly left—not because you didn’t love him, but because he clearly didn’t think he should be loved in return.

⚉ as emotionally constipated as he is, Jack is unironically the quietest simp on earth. no grand gestures, no soft declarations, no love poems in the dark—but he’ll go pliant under your hands the moment you put them on him. lets you crawl all over him, straddle his thighs, bury your face in his neck, press open-mouthed kisses to his ribs. sometimes you wonder if he’s just enduring it, if he’s humoring you.

⚉ but then he starts purring. subtle, constant, low like a distant engine. you don’t hear it as much as you feel it, thrumming through his chest when you’re tangled up together and the world is silent.

⚉ he still rarely initiates. but once the gates were down, he started soaking it up like bone-dry earth after rain. he doesn’t stop you when your affection goes over the top—when you're curled in his lap, peppering kisses across his jaw, calling him stupid pet names just to see if he’ll twitch.

⚉ he never asks for cuddles, never says he wants to be held. but the second you climb into bed or settle beside him on the couch, his arms snake around you like they’ve been waiting all day, grip firm and protective, like he’s anchoring you both.

⚉ lets you bite him whenever the affection gets too intense for you to handle. especially his arms and biceps. doesn’t flinch, doesn’t complain, doesn’t push you away—even when you accidentally bite down too hard. the marks stay for days, but he never covers them up. if anything, he runs his fingers over them sometimes when he thinks you’re not looking.

⚉ he loves when you trace the hollows of his shoulder blades and spine. long, slow touches down his back when he's shirtless? he’ll sit there, eyes shut, breathing slowed, fingers twitching like he wants to say something but physically can’t. he doesn’t say he wants to be touched, but the way he subtly exposes skin is his way of inviting it. sits in bed shirtless after a shower and doesn’t look at you, but his back is right there. take the hint.

⚉ fixates on your neck a lot. he stares at your throat constantly. or, you know, his face is tilted towards it. it’s not always sexual—it’s fascination. You tilt your head to the side and he just tracks the movement like a predator, sharp and quiet. your throat ends up with faded bite marks all the time once he got comfortable with using his teeth on you, and when you point them out, he just rumbles, “Then stop offering it.”

BEN Drowned

모 from day one, the second you started getting all sticky and cuddly with him, he started teasing the hell out of you for it. not in a mean way—just that mellow, lazy roast voice he has, the kind that sounds like he's halfway to sleep and halfway to a blunt.

“Dude, you’re like… emotionally horny. That’s wild.”

but he’s grinning. that slow, shit-eating grin that says he loves it. that he eats up every clingy kiss and every over-the-top pet name and every time you crawl onto him like a needy little koala. he barks, but he basks.

모 he revels in cuddle sessions when he’s high. joint between his fingers, you in his lap or spread out beside him, some dumb show playing he’s not even watching—he’s in heaven. his hands get real loose, one hand always low on your thigh, thumbing lazy circles or sliding under your shirt with zero fanfare, just to feel skin.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles into your neck, half-lidded and warm against you. “You’re like… a fuckin’ cloud. Or a hot marshmallow or some shit.” then he starts giggling at his own description and buries his face in your chest like he’s trying to suffocate himself in your tits.

모 zero shame, zero urgency. he’ll rub his cheek against your stomach while you stroke his hair and mumble the nastiest compliments with all the energy of a guy talking in his sleep.

“You’re lucky I’m too high to rail you right now,” he slurs with a kiss to your ribs. “You'd be cryin'."

모 when he initiates affection, it’s barely even conscious. has this thing where he’ll hook a finger through your belt loop or hoodie pocket as you walk by just to pull you into his lap, even if he’s busy gaming. doesn’t even pause his game. he makes an obnoxious smooch sound, presses a lazy kiss to your temple, slaps your ass once, then goes right back to clicking buttons like nothing happened. half the time you’re just part of the furniture. a very warm, kissable, touchable piece of furniture that smells really good.

모 gets this really soft look when you kiss his hands—like an actual visible lag in his brain. he stares for a second, eyes lowered, breathing paused like you’ve just triggered some long-lost human file. Then he flexes his fingers in yours and says something stupid like "Damn. Didn’t realize I was royalty.”

모 a little bitch about you playing with his pointy ears. all "ugh, you got an elf kink?!" and "bro, you're fuckin' weird, stop doing that", until you actually pull your hands away. then it's suddenly, "babe, c'mon stop playing," and tucking his hair behind his ears to give you room.

모 borderline religious experience levels of fixation on your thighs. if you don't open your legs to let him sit between them he gives you this look like you just personally offended him and says, "What?? You mad at me or some shit? What did I do??"

Ticci Toby

𓌏 second-place simp only because Jack’s quiet obsession is unbeatable—but Toby gives everything back tenfold, and then some once you make it known that you're touchy-feely. he’s not gentle about it either. he loves hard, and he loves fast, like you’re gonna vanish if he doesn’t show you right now how much he needs you.

𓌏 the worst kisser on Earth (subjective). when you initiate with sweet smooches, he tackles you like a linebacker and crashes your mouths together so hard your teeth click. no aim, no finesse, too much jaw, tongue immediately. and then he pulls back with this big, stupid grin like, “That w-was good, right? Hah. G-gimme another one.” you're half-way to a concussion.

𓌏 you tried to sneak up behind him and bear hug him once. big mistake. he turned it on you and crushed you so tight against his chest that he almost broke your nose.

𓌏 you bite him playfully, and he bites back with zero restraint. doesn’t register how hard it is until you scream. he jerks back with your arm in his mouth, blinking in horror at the indents like they bit him. mouth wet with spit and the faintest trace of red, his expression crumpling like, “W-what?? Wh-what’d I do?? I-I didn’t—wait, y-you’re crying??” full kicked-puppy energy while you're nursing a war wound.

𓌏 cuddling during a movie is virtually impossible. just being near you gets him half-chubbed and distracted. and if he’s the big spoon it’s over. within minutes there’s a hand under your shirt like it belongs there, groping you like it's his emotional support tiddy. “I’m n-not d-doing nothin’, promise,” he mumbles, already rolling his hips into your lower back. “Y-you’re just s-s-soft… and warm…”

a beat of silence.

“…C-can I p-put it in though? C'mon, just a m-m-minute— Please?? We can s-still watch!"

𓌏 touch-starved to hell and back. has to be in physical contact with you constantly. holding your hand even when it's sweaty and awkward. arm slung over your shoulder. leg thrown across your lap. chin on your head. elbow in your ribs. he’s like a weird affectionate dog that never learned boundaries and never wants to.

𓌏 needy to the point of insanity. you so much as touch his thigh in passing and suddenly he’s grabbing your hand and dragging it to his crotch, muttering, “Y-you did that on purpose, d-don’t act innocent.” you didn’t. but it doesn’t matter, he's already hard.

𓌏 hair-pulling is his heroin. there's no "lazy, gentle scalp massages" with him. you try to detangle his mess of curls and he just keeps going, “Harder. Harder—mmmf, ha-harder" while you're one pull away from scalping him. but he just smiles and leans into it, completely unfazed by the fact that his head is being yanked back.

Brian Thomas/Hoodie

☹ you had to break him down slowly. he had walls of steel, thick as hell with barbed wire on top, but your affection chipped at it like water on rock. at first he dodged it—literally. you’d lean in for a kiss and he’d shift just slightly to avoid it, muttering “Don’t.” not because he didn’t want it, but because he wanted it too badly.

his reasons were always the same:

“You don’t want this. I’m not even here half the time.”

“Stickman fucks with my head. I could forget your face tomorrow.”

“You should be with someone real.”

☹ but none of that stopped the way he lingered. your touch magnetized him. you’d reach for his hand and he’d sigh but let you take it, fingers twitching like he didn’t trust himself to squeeze back.

☹ he’ll tell you he’s not a cuddler, that he “gets too hot,” that he “can’t relax like that,” that he “doesn’t sleep well next to people.” but you soon find out he sleeps better when you tangle your legs with his. can’t fall asleep unless your hand’s resting somewhere on him—his side, his chest, his wrist, doesn’t matter.

☹ he doesn’t initiate often—can’t risk falling harder than he already has—but when he does it’s a problem. it's rare and raw, and it makes your chest cave in every time. because he will just randomly sigh like he had to make a life or death decision in his head, make eye contact so intense it feels like bracing for impact, and he kisses you like he hasn't seen you in years.

☹ weak for domestic touches. tug his shirt straight for him. smooth his collar. wipe something off his cheek with your thumb. his brain just shorts out. he stands there like a statue with his eyes flicking between your hand and your face like he’s not sure which to kiss first.

☹ he LOVES when you kiss the bridge of his nose or the crease in his brow when he’s frowning. you do it to soften him up, and it works every time.

☹ Hoodie takes. affection makes him feral. especially right after missions—blood under his nails, eyes glassy, breath heavy—and you grab his face and kiss him like he’s still human? he ruins you. shoves you against the wall, fucks you like he’s still high on adrenaline. like if he doesn’t bury himself inside you, he’ll forget who he is.

☹ he can’t process gentleness right away. the first time you ran your fingers through his hair while he was still breathing heavy post-mission, he froze like you’d hit him. then he grabbed your wrist and dragged your hand back. "Again. Do that shit again."

☹ when you kiss his jaw while he’s still tense, he exhales like the pressure valve just cracked. you do that enough times, and he starts chasing your kisses with his own—down your throat, across your collarbone, rough and desperate.

☹ when you’re clingy with Hoodie, he doesn’t push you away. he lets it happen, but he doesn’t respond like Brian. he just holds you tighter, stiffer, more possessive. like he’s cataloging every second of it to replay later when he’s buried under orders and blood.

☹ kissing him through the mask undoes him. you press your mouth to the fabric and he flinches like it's more intimate than actual skin on skin. he'll stare at you like he doesn't know how to process it, and then rips it up to his nose just enough to crush his mouth against yours like he needs the proof you’re real and not some hallucination.

☹ if you help him clean up after he comes back—using a clean rag to wipe the blood that seeped through the mask on his face—he'll completely freeze for a full minute before yanking himself away from you with this ragged, broken exhale, like you just slit his throat. "No, no, stay the fuck away, this— you don't— don't fuckin' touch me, you're staining your hands. You don't deserve this." he fully shuts down on you like you just reached some purgatory in his mind, and he only comes back after you coax him softly.

Tim Wright/Masky

⦻ so fucking reluctant. not because he doesn’t want the affection—he wants it like he’s dying of thirst—but because he doesn’t trust it. he'll tip toe around it in the beginning like he's scared letting his guard down would instantly make you vanish. you’ll sometimes catch him just looking at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. It’s not lustful—it’s like he’s trying to memorize you, afraid his brain’s going to betray him again.

⦻ when you get clingy with him (cuddling on the couch, draping over him while he’s trying to smoke or read), he groans and mutters a half-hearted “Jesus Christ…” but makes no effort to move you. He just lets out this long-suffering sigh like he’s being tortured—and then subtly wraps an arm around you, fingers digging into your hip.

⦻ touch-starved in the saddest way. if you’re rubbing circles into his back while he lays on your chest, this man is out. fast asleep. snores like a truck.

⦻ the real killer for Tim is casual affection. walking past him and you grab his face to give him a kiss like it's second nature. or holding his hand absentmindedly while watching TV. every time, he looks at you like he can’t believe you're doing it without thinking. sometimes tears up because of it and (badly) covers it up with a yawn.

⦻ he won’t initiate affection often, but he will hover. walks too close, sits too close, lingers near doorways so you’ll come to him first. it's his way of saying “please touch me” without saying anything at all.

⦻ back of the neck touches wreck him. you slide your hand up under the back of his shirt to press your palm there—under his jacket, under his defenses. you feel him go still every time. it’s grounding. he’d never ask for it, but if you stop doing it during a hug, he’ll lean back into your hand, subtly chasing the touch.

⦻ Masky is the complete opposite of Hoodie when it comes to you cleaning him up after a mission. he goes still, but not from shame. his head tilts, eyes half-lidded behind the mask like he’s watching prey walk willingly into his den. there’s a flush creeping down his neck, a hungry glint in his eye, and he’s already half-hard under the weight of your care. he gets a rush from this—your soft hands, your worried little frown, the way you treat him like something precious even when he’s soaked in blood. the way you serve him like this without even having to ask for it.

⦻ you say “I missed you,” arms open to hug him, and he makes a low, scoffing sound in his throat—but the way he grabs you by the back of your neck to kiss you says otherwise.

⦻ Masky doesn’t process “normal” intimacy well. you rest your head on his shoulder, and he’s grabbing your thigh like it’s a green light for sex. you hold his hand and he shakes out of it just to grab your throat instead. there’s no filter.

⦻ you try to kiss him and he meets you halfway but way too fast and way too hard. teeth clash, lips bruise; he grabs your jaw to hold you still like you’re prey he’s keeping under control.

⦻ he loves it most when you get rough back, so he can one-up you. when you bite his neck or lips, or yank him in for a kiss like you need him. if he could purr, he would. his way of reciprocating physical affection is making sure you don’t walk right for two days. did i mention he has a control thing yet?

Jeff the Killer

꒷꒦ umm... jk lol

꒷꒦ first year? misery. if you’re naturally clingy, you might as well be kissing a brick wall that sometimes bites. his concept of physical affection was feral. gropey, aggressive, and mostly used to initiate sex or get a rise out of you. he was obnoxious, didn’t get soft stuff, and laughed in your face if you called him “cute.”

꒷꒦ but if you stomached that… congrats. you unlocked bare minimum boyfriend privileges. he doesn’t initiate affection unless it’s immediately sexual. you’re not getting casual cuddles or soft little kisses just because. that’s not “his style.” he groans EVERY single time you start getting handsy and soft, but he never does much to stop you anymore.

꒷꒦ he accepts hugs. because your tits squish against him and he’s a pig. he’ll either slap your ass hard enough to make you squeak, or pull you in by the neck and kiss you like he’s trying to bruise your lips.

“There. You got your stupid affection. That enough for the day?”

it’s not. you keep coming back like a needy little parasite and he acts like he’s put upon—but his grip always lingers.

꒷꒦ the ONLY time he doesn't piss and moan about cuddling is when you pull him over you in bed, face first into your chest. you try to be cute, sure, but he's a tit guy and he makes it foul instantly. cups the sides of your tits and pushes them together to rub his face in while groaning. instantly hard, too.

꒷꒦ he gets annoyed constantly. like, “can’t-breathe-stop-touching-me-I-swear-to-god” annoyed, but it’s mostly all bark. you straddle him on the couch to cover his face in kisses and he flails, groaning, “DUDE. Get the fuck off. I’m gonna suffocate.” but he doesn't push you off. doesn’t even move. he just grits his teeth and deals with it, eyes fluttering shut the second your lips hit his jaw like the hypocrite he is.

꒷꒦ he sucks at cuddling. or rather—he sucks at not turning cuddling into dry humping within five minutes. you slide next to him in bed, all sweet and warm and wanting to be held, and he immediately shifts behind you and grabs your waist like he’s bracing for impact. his mouth is on your neck before the covers settle.

“You’re the one who climbed in here,” he mutters, hand already between your thighs. “I’m just makin’ the most of it.”

he calls it "cuddling with flavor".

꒷꒦ disgustingly into anything involving his neck. you sneak up behind him, arms around his waist, lips on his neck for less than a second, and he growls, “You got ten seconds to stop before I start fucking you right here.”

Liu Woods/Sully

𓄧 at first, he’s unsure how to handle it. not in a “don’t touch me” way—he actually responds well to touch—but it scares him how much he likes it. he’s used to needing control, keeping his emotions tight, so having someone who’s always hugging him and kissing his cheek and calling him pet names just melts him. he just hides it very, very well.

𓄧 his reactions are delayed. you’ll wrap your arms around him from behind and it’ll take him a second to process it—but once he does, his hands automatically come to rest on yours, like his body reacts before his brain can argue.

𓄧 he’s not good at receiving affection without overthinking it. you nuzzle up to him on the couch and he’s immediately like: “What did I do to deserve this? Are you okay? Are you hiding something?” but he also lets out this tiny, quiet breath when you pet his hair, and that’s how you know he secretly loves it.

𓄧 obsessed with your hands. loves when you run your fingers along his jaw, lace your fingers with his, or cup his face when you kiss him. he has this internal reaction every time like he’s been hit in the chest with a shovel. never says a word about it, just keeps looking for it again and again.

𓄧 he needs physical affection, but he thinks it’s selfish to ask for it, so you’ll often find him standing too close to you, brushing up against you, subtly looking for contact like a stray cat that won’t admit it’s hungry. you sit in his lap and he freezes, then lets out the quietest laugh and leans into you like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

𓄧 he matches your affection in the softest ways. he’ll kiss your forehead when he passes you in the hallway. pulls you closer in bed while still asleep. kisses your hands every time you cup his face or play with his hair. all that subtle, quiet love that he’s never sure how to say out loud.

𓄧 Sully exists to protect the system—especially Liu. he’s not cruel or evil, but he is intense. he runs hot, emotional, and blunt. he’s used to hostility, so your affection throws him off at first, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

𓄧 you learned pretty early when someone else was fronting. the posture was different. the eyes were harder. he flinched less. and he didn’t say much—just stared like he was trying to figure you out like a puzzle.

𓄧 you once kissed his cheek mid-sentence and he just paused, mid-thought. blank and confused. “...What the hell was that for?”

you said “because I wanted to.”

and he stared another beat and muttered, “...Weird,” but he turned his face for you to kiss the other cheek as well. lol

𓄧 Sully doesn’t seek out affection, but once he starts to trust you, he starts allowing it. he’ll grunt when you hug him, but he won’t move away. he’ll scowl if you hold his hand, but he squeezes back. he’s used to being the one protecting, so being loved so openly makes him feel raw and seen in a way that’s almost unbearable. almost.

𓄧 he’s more physical in return than Liu, though. if you kiss him, he grabs your waist and kisses back like it’s a challenge. if you straddle his lap, he’ll start feeling you up instantly—legs, hips, ass, making it feel like it was his idea to begin with.

𓄧 when you cuddle up to him, he makes this sarcastic little noise like “ugh,” but his hands find your waist automatically. his body betrays him every time. he’s all sarcasm and sharp teeth, but he wraps around you like he’s been cold his whole life.

𓄧 after getting comfortable, he lowkey loves to tease you, but acts like it's just aversion to touch, just to fuck with you a bit. you lean in to kiss him and he turns his head last second so you miss his lips. if you pout, his mouth twitches like he's fighting a smile and he leans in with this low tone, "You gonna start crying? Can't you wait until I fuck it out of you?"

[cantharel]

Whenever Simon spent a lot of time away in a mission, the two of you almost had a ritual when he's back, one that Simon loved with all his heart.

Every time he came home, he craved your food. Each time, he felt his stomach rumble when he smelled what you had prepared for him. And don't even mention dessert, because he loves that vanilla cake that only you know how to make.

He loved the feeling of having sex with you after so long away. The feeling was stronger than ever. But that wasn't all, what he loved even more was having you in his arms, so the first thing he did was hug you, tuck you into his arms and stay that way for a good few minutes.

Simon didn't say anything. He just hugged you and smelled you, a comforting smell, uniquely your own, that made him feel at home.

It took him a while to let go of you, and as soon as he did, he would spend time looking at you, a small smile on his face as he kissed your forehead.

He loved you so much, you could already tell by these actions. A silent 'I love you' every time he kissed your forehead, looking at you tenderly even though he was exhausted.

His favorite part was when you pampered him. He would never admit it out loud, but by God, he loved it when you bathed him, massaging and kissing his body while you gossiped about what had happened while he was away.

His hands on your hips, a warm, lazy smile on his lips as you told him that the neighbor had done something in her apartment. Which always fell on deaf ears. He didn't give a damn about the old lady. He just wanted to hear your voice.

He wanted to hear something that would give him peace, something that was different from the gunfire and explosions of that last mission. You let him grounded, reminding him that he was home.

And when it was finally time for him to rest with you, all he did was throw himself on the bed, and he allowed himself to be the little spoon in these situations. It seemed silly, but Simon felt safe when he was in your arms, the feeling of being held by you calmed him down, and when he was tired like that, he would settle down in the comfort of your embrace for a good night's sleep. And it always worked.

But first, he gave your ring hand a gentle kiss, smiling slightly when he saw the wedding band on your fingers, and then he whispered a "I love you," letting tiredness overcome him. He had married the right person, that was enough to make his heart light, to give him a reason to be happy after getting back from a mission.

He has a reason to come home now. And he's more than content with it.

Simon didn't know how long he would be at home, but he would certainly enjoy most of the time with you, his love.

Omg!!! 100 followers! Tyyyy! Thank you so much!💖💖

[papayainsectorone]

Nothing Personal.

summary: you show up after a breakup, not really heartbroken, only to be met with Lando’s usual mix of sarcasm and comfort between teasing banter and shared fries, a way-too-smooth suggestion changes the dynamic

content: 18+!! smut, nsfw, friends-to-lovers, fuck, oral (f!receiving + m!receiving), teasing, dirty talk

word count: 5.4k

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader a thought: new series who dis i clearly cannot overcome my ln4 obsession so... guess who got his own series now lol. i hope you enjoy it!! feel free to hit me up if you wanna be on the taglist alsooo — new divider?? made it myself?? it’s cute right?? let me have my moment walls are way too thin - series

Lando’s couch is still too deep, too soft, and far too familiar. Your legs are flung over his like they always are—like muscle memory—and his hands rest on your shins, thumbs moving in lazy circles while you tear into a box of fries like they personally wronged you.

Somehow, this is the only place that makes sense tonight.

“It wasn’t even good sex,” you mutter, chewing aggressively.

Lando lets out a bark of laughter, tipping his head back. “That’s the worst part.” “No,” you say, pointing a fry at him like a gavel. “The worst part is wasting three months on a man who thought eating you out was some kind of annual treat.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re joking.”

You just glare at him. “I’m genuinely considering writing a Yelp review.”

“Leave a voice note,” he suggests, voice deadpan. “I’ll animate it. ‘Hi, I’d like to report a man for crimes against pussy.’”

You laugh, loud and short, and it echoes into the comfortable silence between you—the kind only years of knowing someone can earn.

Because this? This has always been you and Lando.

Since you were kids sneaking out of karting camps to buy energy drinks and snacks, since you watched his first podium in your pajamas screaming into his voicemail. Since your first heartbreak, when he brought you a single Ferrero Rocher and said, “I’m shit at feelings, but I know this one’s your favorite.”

You were the first person he told when he got his F1 seat.

He was the first person you called after losing your virginity—drunk on cheap cider, whispering into his voicemail like it was a state secret.

When he started getting morning boners, you were the one he told, beaming with this stupid, smug pride.

“Rise and shine, baby,” he’d said, holding up a hoodie in front of his crotch. “I’m a man now.”

You’d almost pissed yourself laughing.

People always assumed there was something more—always. Teachers, teammates, partners. But there never was. You were chaos and sarcasm and trust, not slow-burning desire. The kind of friendship built on late-night FaceTimes and brutally honest advice and knowing exactly how to make each other laugh when it really counts.

It had always been a problem in past relationships.

“Too close,” they’d say. “Too flirty.” But neither of you ever cared.

Because Lando had always been your person. Still is.

You’d crash at his place more often than not—after parties, after races, after long days that didn’t even need an excuse. Sometimes you’d show up with nothing but takeout and he’d just nod and slide over on the couch. No questions. No explanations.

The walls in his flat were thin—paper-thin. You heard the whispers, late at night, from the girls he dated. Their voices just sharp enough to cut through the drywall. "Why does she stay over so much?" "Why don’t you send her home?" "Are you sure she’s just your friend?"

Lando always told you about them. Not to make you feel bad. Just... because he told you everything.

And yeah, sometimes you felt sorry—guilty, even—for being the shadow in the corner of his relationships. But you never apologized. Because it was always Lando and you. You and Lando. Friends. Always friends. The kind who knew the worst and best of each other and stayed anyway.

You knew the way he took his tea. The way his knee bounced when he was nervous. The way his voice dropped when he was pretending not to care. And he knew the song that always calmed you down. The nickname only your dad used. The face you made when you were about to cry and didn’t want anyone to notice.

There was no one else. Never had been.

So it wasn’t exactly surprising that you ended up here—on his couch, legs draped over his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Lando sat casually, one hand resting on your shins, the other stealing fries from the carton balanced on your stomach. Your head was tilted just enough to eat, the rest of you sprawled comfortably beside him. In the hallway, your hastily stuffed suitcase waited—silent proof that this was where you always landed when the rest of the world fell apart.

You sigh, flinging a fry into your mouth. “Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking. Three months and not one orgasm that wasn’t self-made.”

He looks personally offended. “You stayed with someone who gave bad sex?”

“I’m mentally ill,” you say, deadpan.

Lando groans, loud and dramatic, flopping his head back against the couch. “At least you were getting laid!”

You smirk. “Oh, poor baby Lando. Don’t tell me world-famous F1 driver isn’t getting any.”

He squints at you, skeptical. “I’m serious. It’s not like that.”

You arch an eyebrow. “What, the women throwing themselves at you just aren’t your type?”

Lando shrugs, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don’t have time.”

You tilt your head. “You make time to beat Max at sim racing at 2am, but you can’t fit in a blowjob?”

That earns a crooked grin, but it’s softer this time—almost sheepish. “I don’t want hookups. I don’t want it to be… awkward.”

You blink. “Hookups are literally meant to be awkward. That’s half the point.”

He laughs, but there’s something under it. A flicker of honesty. “I mean, yeah, but—I want good. Not weird silences and ‘this was fun, see ya.’ I want someone who knows me. Who won’t make it feel like a transaction.”

You sit with that for a second, caught off guard by the realness in his tone.

And then he looks at you.

And you’re already looking at him.

Something curls in your stomach.

“I mean…” you start, voice quieter now. “You could be getting laid.”

The words are light, teasing on the surface—but they land heavy between you.

Lando doesn’t smile. Doesn’t deflect.

He just blinks. Slowly.

His hand tightens slightly on your shin.

“Don’t fuck with me,” he says, voice low.

You blink at him. “I mean… I wouldn’t necessarily not fuck with you.”

Lando stares at you like you just offered to punch him in the face and hand him a trophy for it. Then he abruptly shoves your legs off his lap and stands, muttering, “I think you’re having a stroke,” as he walks toward the kitchen.

You twist around on the couch, tracking him with your eyes. “Lando. It’s not like I’m in love with you.”

He pauses.

“It would just be—convenient?” you say. “You need someone. I need someone. We know each other. Why not?”

He turns slowly to look at you, like you’ve just asked him to join a cult.

“Why not?” he repeats, incredulous. “I know about a million reasons why not.”

You scoff. “What, do you not think I’m hot?”

He laughs—really laughs. “I’ve known you since you had one front tooth at age seven and would only wear mismatched socks. How could that possibly be hot?”

You gasp, mock-offended. “Wow. Wow.”

He grins. “What? You think I’m hot?”

You shrug, a little too casual. “I’ve obviously had worse.”

That wipes the smirk off his face.

He stares.

You can see the wheels turning behind his eyes—quick math, risk analysis, moral breakdown. His brow furrows. His mouth opens, then closes again. You swear he stops breathing for a second.

Then he says it.

“Fuck… okay, I guess. But we need rules.”

You groan. “Oh my god, Lando.”

“I’m serious!”

“Fine. Rules,” you say, throwing your arms up. “What, like no spooning after?”

“No sleeping in the same bed.”

“No feelings.”

“No one finds out.”

“No drama.”

You point at him. “No falling in love.”

He mirrors the gesture. “No ruining the friendship.”

You reach out your hand and he takes it instinctively, falling into the rhythm of a secret handshake you made up when you were twelve, all palms and slaps and pinky swears.

Your fingers lock one last time and neither of you lets go.

Not right away.

And when he pulls you closer, it’s like gravity.

The smirk fades from his face. Yours too.

You don’t know who moves first, only that his mouth is on yours again and this time there’s no pause. No second-guessing. Just the sharp, charged click of teeth and breath and want.

He kisses you like he’s proving a point.

You kiss him like you’re trying to win.

There’s nothing slow about it. His hands grip your hips like he’s allowed to and yours tangle into his hoodie, yanking him closer as your knees press into the couch cushions. You’re already climbing into his lap when he groans into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, lips brushing your jaw. “This is so fucking weird.”

“Shut up,” you breathe, nipping at his neck. “Less thinking, more undressing.”

“Bossy,” he mutters, but he’s already lifting your shirt over your head. You help, clumsy and rushed and laughing a little when you get stuck halfway.

“You’ve done this before, right?” you tease, breathless.

“Not with you.” His voice dips lower, eyes dragging down your chest like he doesn’t know where to land. “Not like this.”

It’s cautious for half a second—his hands smoothing over your waist, the slow drag of his thumbs just under the band of your bra—but the second you reach for the hem of his hoodie, it sparks again. Like pulling a match against the box.

Everything ignites.

Clothes come off in fast, impatient pieces. You laugh when his sock gets caught on the couch. He curses when your belt loops fight back. There’s a short, chaotic scuffle over who gets to be on top—until you push him down with a smug look and he just stares, breathless and flushed, like maybe this was a terrible, amazing idea.

“You’re gonna have to back up all that shit you’ve talked over the years,” you say, hovering above him. “Mr. ‘I’m so good in bed I should get Michelin stars.’”

He groans. “I literally never said that.”

“You literally did. Karting camp. Fifteen years old. You said—quote—‘I’ll be better than anyone she’s had before.’”

His hand slides up your thigh, grip tightening. “Fifteen-year-old me had ambition.”

“Fifteen-year-old you had a big mouth and was barely not a virgin anymore” you grin.

He smirks, eyes dark. “And you’re the one who raved about that guy who said you gave the best head of his life.”

You blink innocently. “It’s not my fault I’m talented.”

“Oh yeah?” he murmurs, dragging you closer by your hips. “Prove it.”

Your smile sharpens.

His laugh cuts off halfway when you grind down on him again, slow and deliberate. One of his hands fists in the fabric of the couch while the other roams up your side, touch hotter now—more confident. Still careful in flashes, like he doesn’t quite know what parts of you he’s allowed to touch, even now.

You lean forward, lips ghosting over his. “Nervous?”

He exhales sharply. “I just… didn’t think the best head of someone’s life would come with a pre-roast.”

“You get what you pay for,” you whisper, and then you slide down his body.

“Fuck,” he groans, tossing his head back.

You pause, breath hot against his skin. “What was that? I thought you were the one with ambition.”

His breath catches when your mouth touches his abs. And again when you look up and raise a single eyebrow—taunting, smug, completely in control.

He grits his teeth. “Okay. I deserved that.”

You hum in response, slow and deliberate. “Damn right.”

Your fingers tug at the waistband of his boxers, and Lando’s whole body goes taut beneath you. It’s subtle—barely a breath—but you feel it.

He’s nervous.

You pause, looking up from where you’re knelt between his legs, hands braced on his thighs. “You okay?”

His eyes snap open. “Yeah. Just…”

“Never imagined me here?” you tease, voice low and laced with a grin.

He huffs out a breath, shaky. “Not like this. Not ever. And definitely not while terrified I’m about to embarrass myself.”

You laugh softly, warm and fond despite yourself. “Relax, Norris. I already know all your worst secrets. One more won’t kill you.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s gratitude in it—like your teasing steadies him more than reassurance ever could.

You hook your fingers under the fabric again, slower this time. “Let’s get this off, then. Time to see what you’ve been bragging about since puberty.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, throwing an arm over his face.

You pull the last piece of clothing down, inch by inch, deliberate just to watch him squirm.

And then your teasing falters—just a beat.

Okay. Maybe not all talk.

He peeks from under his arm, a smirk creeping back in. “You good?”

You clear your throat, recovering. “I’ve obviously had worse,” you echo back with a wink.

He groans like you’ve wounded him.

And then you lean down again—mouth brushing skin, warm and careful, letting him feel your breath before anything else. You start slow. You always do. One hand on his hip, the other anchoring you as your mouth finds him, slow and deliberate and way too confident for someone who’d been joking about this two minutes ago.

Lando’s hand jumps to your shoulder instantly, fingers twitching. “Holy shit.”

You hum, eyes flicking up—pleased, knowing, smug as hell. You’re good, and you know it. And now so does he.

He tries to keep quiet. Tries to breathe evenly. But it’s all unraveling fast—the shift of his hips, the way his mouth falls open with a soft, helpless sound that’s definitely not friendly.

He mutters your name once, like a warning. A plea.

You don’t stop.

You sink deeper, slow and practiced, using your hand when you have to, mouth when you want to. And you want to a lot.

“Okay,” he breathes, voice breaking. “Okay—Jesus—I get it, he wasn’t lying.”

You smile up at him, lips curling around him as you draw him deeper into your mouth. Your tongue flicks over the sensitive ridge just beneath the tip, teasing that delicate band of skin before gliding up to circle the slit. The reaction is immediate—his breath stutters, and he chokes on a moan, hips twitching as he struggles to hold still.

“Oh my god.”

He’s twitching beneath you, squirming, practically begging now—your name spilling from his lips in broken whispers. It’s fast, it’s messy, it’s too good.

Your name again, this time a warning “Fuck... I´m gonna—Jesus—don´t stop” And you don’t stop. You don’t even slow down. If anything, you push harder, chasing that edge with him.

And when he finally breaks—when his hands grip tight, back arching off the bed, curses torn from his throat like a prayer—it’s your name he chants, again and again. Shaky. Wrecked. Reverent.

You pull off slowly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Then you crawl up his body, smiling like sin, like you know exactly what you just did.

He looks dazed. Destroyed. Wrecked in the most satisfying way.

“I told you,” you whisper against his ear. “Talented.”

Your body stretches over his as you settle on his chest, breath warm against his skin, heartbeat still pounding under your palm.

Lando's eyes are half-lidded, completely blown out, one hand resting on your lower back like he doesn’t quite trust gravity anymore.

He exhales hard. “Fuck.”

You smirk into his collarbone. “You lost all your other vocabulary, Norris.”

He laughs—short, breathless, still wrecked. “No seriously, that was… I mean, you really do have bragging rights about that.”

You prop your chin on his chest, smug. “Told you.”

His hand slides up to brush lightly down your spine. “How the hell am I supposed to recover from that?”

You grin wider. “Come on. That all you got?”

He blinks at you, mouth twitching. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you tease, eyes gleaming. “Big talk for years, and now you’re all ‘oh no, I need to lie down.’”

He stares. “I just had my soul removed via your mouth and you’re taunting me?”

“I’m motivating you,” you say sweetly.

He laughs again, one of those quiet, incredulous laughs that bubbles up from his chest. “Well, I was gonna say something cocky but now I’m wounded.”

You raise a brow. “Say it.”

He bites back a smile. “Just thought it was common knowledge that… y’know, eating out is for annual events only.”

You smack his chest. “Twat.”

He’s grinning like an idiot now, clearly pleased with himself even as your hand lingers, half-playful and half warning.

And then—before you can fire back another insult—he moves.

You’re flipped fast, the room spinning for half a second before your back hits the cushions and he’s above you, eyes dark and mischievous.

“Oh,” you say, breath catching.

He smirks, voice low. “Guess what day it is.”

You barely manage to answer before he’s already sliding down your body—slow and deliberate, hands dragging over your thighs, your waist, your hips. You squirm under him, anticipation crackling through your veins.

He kisses the inside of your knee.

You arch a brow. “You’re just doing this to prove a point.”

“Obviously,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin again, “but I’m also an overachiever.”

His mouth finds your inner thigh and your breath hitches.

This, you realize, is very quickly about to become a competition.

And neither of you plays fair.

He kisses his way down your thighs, hands dragging slow, like he’s taking inventory.

“Still not taking this seriously,” you murmur, but your voice betrays the way your body’s already reacting to him—hips shifting, stomach tensing.

Lando lifts his head just enough to give you a wicked grin. “I’m insulted. You think I don’t rise to a challenge?”

You hum. “So dramatic.”

“I just think,” he says, lowering again, lips brushing close—too close—without quite touching where you need, “if you’re gonna make bold claims about your talents, I should be allowed to respond in kind.”

You squirm as his breath fans over you, and when you go to snap something smug back, his mouth finally meets you over your panties.

Everything derails.

It’s not tentative. There’s no awkward fumble, no hesitation. Just heat. Intention. A surprising kind of focus that makes your breath catch and your hands fly to his curls like instinct.

He hums into you, and you curse softly, head falling back against the couch cushion.

“Fuck, Lando…”

You feel him smile. Bastard.

He slides the fabric to the side and keeps going—slow at first, like he’s mapping out every reaction, every shift of your hips, every sound you make. He starts adding his hands, fingers anchoring you wide open, thumbs brushing soft along your thighs as he buries himself deeper in it.

It’s not rushed. It’s not polite.

It’s intentional.

And it’s driving you insane.

You’re panting now, fingers gripping his hair, one leg hooked over his shoulder because you stopped pretending to play it cool somewhere around the second time he moaned against you.

You manage to glance down once, and the sight nearly finishes you—him, flushed and focused between your thighs, like he’s memorizing you.

“Okay,” you breathe out, voice high and wrecked. “Okay. I take back everything.”

He doesn't stop.

“Lando.”

A flick of his tongue. A curl of his fingers.

You break.

Your hips jerk, your back arches, a sharp cry tears from your throat and you feel everything all at once—your blood rushing, your pulse crashing, the way his name leaves your mouth like muscle memory.

He slows down only when your hands tug at his hair—not to pull him closer, but in surrender.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, dazed, boneless against the cushions.

Lando crawls back up over you, and for a second, neither of you says anything—just panting breaths and the shared knowledge of what just happened.

Finally, he grins, breath still hot against your cheek. “So… just annually, huh?”

You laugh—half-gasp, half-shocked. “You’re an actual menace.”

“And you’re blushing,” he says, full of smug satisfaction.

“Am not.” You give his shoulder a playful smack.

“I mean… maybe we shouldn’t limit that to once a year,” you say, casual but breathless. “Wasn’t exactly terrible.”

He tilts his head, eyes glittering. “Not terrible? Sounded like more than that to me.”

You snort, cheeks warming again. “Okay—fine. It was actually pretty fucking great.”

He rolls onto his back beside you, both of you still catching your breath in the hazy silence that follows.

“You still think this was a good idea?” he asks, eyes on the ceiling.

You turn your head, grinning. “Amazing actually.”

He laughs and it feels like nothing’s changed.

[mysticmindblog]

आलस्य को दूर करने के अचूक उपाय | How to Overcome Laziness in Hindi

 How to Overcome Laziness in Hindi हमारे समायोजकी तंत्र की ताजगी के लिए आलस्यका एक कुदरती हिस्सा होने के बावजूद, आलस्य हमें सचेत और कार्यक्षम रहने में बाधा ��ाल सकती है। इसका सीधा प्रभाव हमारी भावनात्मक, मानसिक और शारीरिक स्वास्थ्य पर होता है। इस प्रकार, यह नियन्त्रणे और मार्गदर्शन की मांग करता है जो हमें उपयोगी वक्त में जागृति की ओर ले जाता है। इस Blog post me, स्वस्थ खून, योजना, समय प्रबंधन,…

[chow0w]

Your designs are absolutely gorgeous! I love the variety of colors and patterns! Every design is like a feast for the eyes.

May I request Tamarin for a redesign? With how bright and visual your style is, I’d love to see how you interpret a blind character.

I love your username, but also yes. Of course. Thank you so much!!

Here's my Tamarin redesign! It's not much of a redesign given how she looked in the gn is almost exactly the same, but I did do my best to add some thoughtful details here and there.

I'm a really big fan of Tamarin's design in the graphic novel (Same with most rainwings) so I kept her color palette the same - with the exception of adding a few darker yellows and blues here and there, just to balance things out. The lines and circles on Tamarin's body are meant to represent soundwaves and trails of smell through the air: a callback to how she won the the rainwing queen contest, as well as how she navigates in general. I also added some flowers on her wings in reference to her hobby/job(?), and gave her tail a swirly look just for fun!

I had the joy of re-reading The Hidden Kingdom earlier this week, where I came to realize that Tamarin has actually been aura farming the FUCK out of her whole tribe for at least 2 arcs now. Like seriously... she overcomes a disability her tribe is too lazy to help her with, gets a job nobody thinks she can do, and then does that job better than one of the literal Queens of her tribe (who has double her life's experience btw!!) Can you even IMAGINE being one of her haters. And the cherry on top is that after all of this, Tamarin fucks off to school and bags a royal seawing girlfriend. like omg.

I hope you enjoyed this redesign - I wish i could've released Tamarin and Anemone together, but unfortunately she was like the second redesign I ever did so they'll have to stay separate. Anyways, happy pride! If you enjoyed this redesign, please check out my blog - my pinned post holds every requested character and previous post! I also have a discord server for chatting + contests, which you can find here!

later ʕ •ᴥ• ʔ

[gyubakeries]

𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝘃𝘀. 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 | k.mg

a/n: i have a lot of emotions rn. that's showbiz, baby! is my first collab ever, and i've had the most wonderful 7 months in this collab. starting off with the new year, tara ( @diamonddaze01 ) and kae ( @studioeisa ) invited me to their collab, and im so grateful that they gave me a place to make good friends (i love u all sm), be myself with no one judging me, and have some of the best caratblr writers i have interacted with helping me plan, plot, and execute several fics.

this fic, right down to the title and the main premise, wouldn't have existed if it weren't for rie ( @okiedokrie-main ) and his genius brain. bennie ( @miniseokminnies ) made this BEAUTIFUL banner, and i am in love with the way their brain works (hi actor vernon. looking at u.)

calli ( @hhaechansmoless ) and rae ( @nerdycheol ) were my emotional support beta readers, and i love you guys for encouraging me to overcome my writing block <3

this is only the first part of the fic, which feels anti-climactic, but the full story WILL come to you guys!! i promise. for now, please enjoy, loserboy vs. hatergirl.

this fic is a part of the that's showbiz, baby! collab. check out the main masterlist -- here <3

word count: 3.2k contents: kim mingyu x f!reader , social media intern!mingyu , IT specialist!reader , grumpy x sunshine trope , clumsy mingyu (because its canon) , mingyu is down bad here too. (is this canon) , featuring haechan and jaemin because they're the evil twins of nct

You like your job, you really do. Sure, you hadn’t envisioned yourself working in the IT department of Sebong Corp, one of South Korea's most popular media companies, but you were satisfied, somewhat, with the way you had put your computer science degree to use.

However, there were a few moments that really made you question your job, life, and entire existence.

One of those moments being this:

It’s 9:05 A.M., and you’re not even close to reaching the office. You just got off the subway and you’re booking it down the street to reach work before your department head launched off into another lecture on how ‘today’s youth is late to everything in life.’

Behind all the cafes, shops, and people on the crowded streets of the commercial hub of the city, the tall, glimmering glass building of Sebong Corp. comes into view. An eager tourist might stop to take a few pictures of the sight, but all you can focus on is entering said building in time for your meeting.

You swiftly avoid bumping into most pedestrians taking a lazy stroll down the street, and only when the doors of the building are in front of you, you let your guard down and reduce your sprint to a brisk walk.

Big mistake.

After you swipe your ID card at the main entrance, thereby triggering the large glass doors to open, you stop in the office lobby to catch your breath. You’re just about to wave at Sunjae, the new receptionist, when all of a sudden, you hear someone curse loudly behind you, and get abruptly pushed forward, and feel a strange wetness on your back. It smells a lot like coffee.

You’re not one for cursing in the workplace. Xu Minghao from HR is slightly terrifying when you see him deal with interns who forget to lower their voice while speaking in language inappropriate for work, and you like to remain in his good books.

Now, however, you feel every drop of that restraint leave you as you shout loudly, for even Minghao’s ancestors to hear, “What the fuck?”

—

“Y/N, I’m sure you know why you’re here,” Minghao sighs, and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying something to worsen your situation. 

“Was it the cursing? Are you going to write me up for it?” You ask innocently, and it’s clear from Minghao’s raised eyebrow that he’s not in the mood to tolerate bullshit.

“Cursing? Do you think that’s what I called you in for?” Minghao asks incredulously. “Y/N, you could go swear in front of the CEO if you’d like, but maybe we should address the fact that you, in the middle of the building’s lobby, deliberately dumped a glass of water on someone’s head?”

“What kind of idiot isn’t careful while carrying four cups of hot coffee?” You retort. “Only someone who lacks any sort of hand-eye coordination, which even toddlers possess, could be so foolish as to—”

The door to Minghao’s office swinging open interrupts your rant, and in walks a six foot tall man, with his shoulders so drawn up with tension that it makes his frame look broader than it already is. His hair is damp with the water you dumped on him, and his face is scrunched up, as if being in this situation physically hurts him, and that makes you laugh, considering that you were the one that just had hot coffee poured on your back.

“You’re Kim Mingyu, yes?” Minghao asks, and the man, Mingyu, nods, not daring to make eye contact. “Mingyu, please, have a seat.” Minghao says, gesturing towards the chair placed next to you.

Mingyu sits down next to you, positioning himself so close to the edge of the seat it makes it look like he’s preparing to sprint out of the room at any given moment. That’s when you notice a brown paper bag clutched in his hands. 

“Mingyu, this is Jung Y/N, Sebong Corp.’s IT Specialist,” Minghao introduces you, and Mingyu hesitantly turns to the side to face you.

“Hi,” He gulps nervously. “I’m Kim Mingyu, the new intern at the—”

“Look, Kim Minju or whatever,” You cut him off. “If there’s one thing I hate, it’s having my time wasted, and that’s exactly what you’ve done. You could have a million reasons to explain the fact that you spilled coffee all over me, but I don’t care for a single one, because I have other important things to do. So please,” You turn to Minghao as you finish your sentence. “Don’t bother with any apologies or introductions. If HR needs me to compensate in any way for my behaviour, please let me know via email.”

Mingyu stares as you push your chair back and stand up to leave the room. He looks at Minghao, wondering if the man had anything to say, but he just sighs as your heels click against the floor when you walk out.

“I hope you didn’t mind the way she spoke,” Minghao asks, sounding almost sympathetic.

“I think she hates me, and I haven’t even started working here,” Mingyu winces.

“She doesn’t hate you,” Minghao shakes his head. “She really just doesn’t care enough to. Y/N’s one of the best employees here because of her no-nonsense attitude, so don’t think it’s personal. If you do have any complaints though, you can always let me know.”

“Yes, of course,” Mingyu nods, and Minghao smiles.

“That’s all, then,” Minghao says. “You can head up to your department now. I’ve asked another colleague to make sure you get settled in comfortably.”

“Thank you, Mr. Xu,” Mingyu bows after getting up from his seat.

“Please, we’re the same age,” Minghao laughs. “Just call me Minghao.”

“Got it, Minghao,” Mingyu chuckles, turning to leave the room, when Minghao speaks again. “Mingyu, remember to not take anything Y/N said personally, okay? She’s nicer when you get to know her, so don’t be disheartened. She’s probably already forgotten about the whole thing, so don’t think too much into it, yeah?” 

Mingyu nods and then leaves the room, but he can’t help but remember the way you left the office, with your shoulders hunched. Your posture looked uncomfortable, and Mingyu deduces that it must have been that way because of his own mistake. He glances down at the paper bag in his hands, and makes a decision.

“You can do this, Mingyu,” He encourages himself, before heading for the elevators. Once he’s inside, he presses the button for the 5th floor, two floors above his own department. When he gets off on the floor, he asks the nearest person where the IT offices are. After being directed, he quickly makes his way to your office. Minghao’s colleague will have to wait for a while.

“Ms. Jung! Trying out new fashion?” Jaemin, the new intern in your department, calls out when you enter the break-room. The already droopy shoulders of the blazer you’re wearing seem to weigh down on you even more at his comment.

“Uh, yes…?” You reply, shooting him an awkward smile and immediately heading for the coffee machine afterwards.

“I’m all for the oversized clothes trend,” Jaemin goes on, stirring his ‘death juice’ that contains a concerning number of espresso shots. “Baggy jeans? Whoever brought them back is a genius. But, isn’t your blazer a little too big on you?”

You’re glad your back is facing Jaemin, because you’re sure he’d sniff you out within seconds if he saw your terrible acting. “I ordered it online, and I got the wrong size, so….”

“Ah, the mishaps of online shopping,” Jaemin tuts, shaking his head. “What about that new cologne you’re wearing? Is it another online purchase?”

Your eyes widen when you realize that the clothes you have on are sprayed with a cologne completely different from the one you wear on a regular basis. You curse your bad luck before schooling your expression into a more calm one before turning to face Jaemin.

“Jaemin, I understand that I asked you to submit a report to me before lunch,” You say, hoping your voice didn’t shake too much. “How is it coming along?”

It’s Jaemin’s turn to look flustered as he hastily grabs his coffee. “It’s going great! You are definitely going to see it on your desk before lunch! Have a great day, boss.” With that, Jaemin is running out of the break-room, and you heave a sigh of relief.

“God, I wish this stupid day was over already,” You mutter, tugging at the sleeves of the blazer that completely engulfs you in it. You do, however, take the time to appreciate the soft material of the blazer, and the admittedly soothing fragrance of the musky cologne emanating from the fabric.

It smells all too familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why it does.

“Kim Mingyu, I’m going to kill you.”

. . . . .

A knock on the door of your office makes you pause in the middle of taking your coffee-stained blazer off. You grit your teeth at the uncomfortable sensation of your wet clothes sticking to your back as you put the blazer back on and call out, “Come in.”

You had expected one of the new interns to be walking into your office with yet another complaint about their employee IDs not working, but surprisingly, it’s Kim Mingyu who walks in, looking like a kicked puppy with his sad expression.

“Uh, hi,” He says, closing the door behind him and keeping at least a six-feet distance between himself and your desk.

“Hi,” You reply, and the conversation falls flat. After an awkward minute of Mingyu making eye contact with every object in the room and you trying (and failing) to maintain a neutral expression on your face, you break. “Did you need something?”

That’s when it strikes you—Minghao did mention that Mingyu was a new intern. Was he possibly in your department?

“Wait, are you my new intern?” You ask, unable to keep the mild terror out of your voice as you break the question.

“What? No, I’m joining the Social Media department,” Mingyu shakes his head vigorously, and you sigh with relief. “I just—I wanted to give you something.”

Before you could even ask what he needed to give you, Mingyu hesitantly shuffles forward and places a brown bag on your desk, which you recognize as the one he was holding in Minghao’s office earlier.

You scoff. Over the last six years of working at Sebong Corp., you’ve been hit on multiple times. There have been many hopeful interns and ex-employees who have tried to shoot their shot, but you’ve always shut their advances down. Now, a man who doesn’t even know you and has soaked you in coffee, has the audacity to flirt with you?

“Look, Mingyu, I’m flattered,” You chuckle, your tone lacking any mirth. “But I’m not interested in you that way, and I think it’s way too early to—”

“It’s just dry clothes,” Mingyu cuts you off, and you wonder why he didn’t do it before you made a fool out of yourself. “I had an extra set of clothes with me, and I noticed that you looked uncomfortable, so I got you these. If there’s any other way I can help you out, please just let me know.”

You’re too mortified to even give him any kind of reply, and Mingyu seizes the opportunity to slip out of your office, saving you from any further embarrassment.

“I’m such an idiot,” You mutter to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose. The combined shame from your hasty conclusion and the growing stickiness on your back makes you give in and open the paper bag in front of you.

Inside, there’s a neatly pressed blazer and a white formal shirt, which makes you nearly leap with joy. Without wasting a second, you head for the bathrooms to change into the fresh clothes.

It’s only after you exit the bathroom stall that you see how idiotic you look in a blazer and shirt three times your size. You had failed to consider that Mingyu’s frame is much bigger than yours, which meant that his clothes would look comically large on you.

Still, there’s no denying the comfort of wearing dry, clean clothes, so you decide to ignore all the possible consequences of wearing clothes that clearly aren’t your size all around the office and exit the bathroom.

You just hope no one asks you about it.

. . . . .

“I wasn’t expecting the new intern to be this cute,” The new voice makes Mingyu look up from his laptop to see someone unfamiliar. He’s spent a week at Sebong Corp. already, but he’s yet to meet the head of his own department, who was apparently on a week-long break in Bali.

Once he takes in the stranger in front of him, and the orange lanyard that hangs around her neck, he’s quick to realize that his boss was finally back from break.

“Good Morning, Ms. Shin,” Mingyu says, standing up from his seat to bow deeply. “I’m Kim Mingyu, the new intern.”

“Yes, Jaemin has told me all about you,” Ms. Shin smiles, stretching her hand out, which Mingyu gingerly shakes. “It’s time this department gets some fresh ideas, and I was impressed by your work. How about I have my assistant set up a quick briefing for the team and you can introduce your ideas to us?”

“Yes, of course, ma’am,” Mingyu agrees instantly. Ms. Shin gives him another dazzling smile before walking away to her office, leaving Mingyu buzzing with excitement at his desk. The company he used to work at previously had never given him much room to experiment with their social media pages, having preferred a more traditional and conservative approach to publicity. The lack of creative liberty had thrown Mingyu into a slump, which is when he came across Sebong Corp. 

They were relatively a new name in the entertainment industry, and upon further research, Mingyu found out that the company was run by people who wanted to hire fresh faces and young, creative minds. Without any hesitation, Mingyu quit his old job the day he received an interview call from Sebong Corp.

The chance to share his ideas with people willing to execute them excited Mingyu to no end, which is why he doesn’t waste any more time before preparing a presentation for the briefing.

“Our promotions with Actor Hansol Vernon Chwe are starting soon, so I centered most of my suggestions around Mr. Chwe himself.” 

“I think that’s a great idea, Mingyu,” Ms. Shin nods, gesturing for Mingyu to continue.

“Okay, so I did my research, and Mr. Chwe’s fans love him for how unintentionally funny he is,” Mingyu starts. “When he appears on variety shows, his delayed reactions, blank expressions, and comedic timing is what makes him attractive to most people.” He flips through viral tweets and clips about Vernon’s unique personality to enhance his statement.

“To make sure our promotions really reach our target audience, we need to emphasize on humor and comedy. Short-form content, like Tiktoks and Reels are also much more likely to grab attention from more viewers, so that should be our main focus. To make the content more relatable, we should also try to incorporate elements from current trends, even for our own company’s promotions.”

There’s silence in the room after Mingyu finishes his presentation, and there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach. Did I go too far? Do they hate me now? Maybe I should have gone a little more traditional—

“Kim Mingyu, you are exactly what this department was missing,” Ms. Shin interrupts his internal monologue. “I think this is perfect, and the team would be more than happy to implement your suggestions as soon as possible.”

“Wait, really?” Mingyu asks, surprised that his ideas were received so openly.

“Yeah! I think I can come up with some really good scripts for videos,” Yena, the team’s writer speaks up. “And Donghyuck is really good at editing videos and making them funny.”

“You should see the video we made for Ms. Shin on her birthday last year,” Donghyuck boasts, smiling smugly. “But yes, I agree with everyone else. This is new and fresh, and our audience will love it.”

“That’s that, then,” Ms. Shin claps her hands together. “Mingyu, lets take this week to develop on your ideas a bit more, and—”

The door of the conference room swinging open abruptly cuts Ms. Shin’s sentence short. Mingyu wants the ground to swallow him whole when he sees you walk in, brown paper bag clutched in your hand.

“Kim Mingyu, here are your clothes, which I never asked for, washed and dry-cleaned,” You say, thrusting the bag into his hands, when you realize that you just interrupted a meeting. Your mouth falls open when you see most of the Social Media department seated in the room, looking at Mingyu and you with utmost interest.

“I knew it! The clothes weren’t yours!” Jaemin speaks up from the back, and you squint your eyes at the mop of platinum blonde hair peeking out from behind Donghyuck.

“Jaemin, why are you here?” You ask, crossing your arms. “Have you forgotten which department you’re in?”

“Here for purely IT-related concerns,” Jaemin shakes his head. “No one here could get the projector to work, so I had to help out.”

You sigh when you don’t find any appropriate response to give Jaemin, which makes you finally realize that the Social Media department, combined with Jaemin, are the most effective channel of communication in the office. 

Two years ago, when an ex-employee had spilled ramen all over Ms. Shin’s laptop and was spotted by Donghyuck, the entire office knew about it within 2 hours of the incident occurring. The thought of everyone finding out that the new intern was now lending you clothes made your head hurt, and you don’t waste a second before apologizing for the interruption and exiting the room immediately, heading up to your office to grieve the loss of your privacy.

Back in the meeting room, everyone files out soon after your exit, muttering to each other about everything that had happened. Donghyuck and Jaemin are the last ones to leave, and they walk up to Mingyu with twin smiles of mischief glinting on their faces.

“Say, Mingyu, you’re quite the gentleman, aren’t you?” Jaemin asks, and Mingyu blushes out of what he hopes is embarrassment.

“There’s nothing to it,” He denies. “I lent her my extra clothes because I spilled coffee on her because it’s the least I could do. I didn’t expect her to actually wear them.”

“I gotta say, the blazer looked nice on her,” Donghyuck adds on. “Maybe you should let her borrow from your wardrobe more often.”

Before Mingyu can even respond, the two men wink at him in sync and leave him alone in the meeting room, heart fluttering at the thought of you wearing his clothes.

Get a grip on yourself, Mingyu, he tells himself, trying to shake the strange feeling off him. It’s too soon for you to catch feelings for someone who probably hates your guts.

He doesn’t think that warning himself is effective, not when his heart never listens to him before falling for anyone.

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[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: What You NEED to Hear Right Now✮⋆˙

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

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Pile I

CARDS: 10 of Pentacles, the Fool reversed, 9 of Wands and 10 of Swords reversed.

let’s be real, you’ve been through it recently. Like, emotionally, mentally, physically, spiritually, just all of it. The cards are screaming resilience and overcoming, but they’re also side-eyeing you a little, like, “Are you actually letting yourself heal, or are you just surviving on autopilot?” Be honest.

10 of Swords reversed + 9 of Wands? darling, that’s the energy of someone who has been dragged through the trenches but still refuses to back down. You’ve been knocked down, betrayed, or just downright exhausted by life, yet here you are, pushing forward like the fighter you are. But the thing is… when was the last time you actually allowed yourself to breathe? Because this “I have to keep going no matter what” mentality is valid, but also, who said you can’t take a break? You don’t have to prove your strength by constantly being in survival mode. It’s okay to admit you’re tired. With The Fool reversed sitting here next to all this, I have to ask, are you resisting a new beginning? Are you clinging to the past because at least it’s predictable, even if it kinda sucks? Something is knocking at your door, asking you to take a leap of faith, but you’re hesitating. Maybe it’s a new opportunity, a new mindset, or even a whole new era for you (cue Taylor Swift ). Whatever it is, you’re holding back, and the question is why? Is it actual logic stopping you, or just fear of uncertainty? Because bestie, if fear is the only thing between you and a fresh start, that’s your sign to GO FOR IT.

Now, let’s talk about that 10 of Pentacles. This card is basically the “you’re meant for success, stability, and everything good” card, but here’s the catch: you have to believe you deserve it. Right now, there’s an energy of you working so hard but maybe not truly believing the rewards will come. Or maybe you think if you let your guard down, everything will fall apart again. Nah, babes, that’s the past talking. You’re being reminded that long-term happiness is possible without constantly being on edge. Trust that all the effort you’ve put in is leading somewhere. Stability is not a myth; it’s just something you have to be open to receiving.

Stop fighting battles that are already over. You don’t have to keep reliving past pain just because you’re used to it. Let it go. Rest isn’t laziness; it’s necessary. You’re not weak for taking a break. In fact, recharging will make you even stronger. Opportunities are knocking, answer the door. Even if it feels scary, don’t let fear make decisions for you. You’re closer to your dreams than you think. But you have to believe in the life you want. It’s not just for other people; it’s for you too.

The universe is basically giving you the “stop playing small” speech. You’ve done the hard work. You’ve survived. Now it’s time to live. The future you’ve been working toward? It’s not some distant fantasy. It’s happening, but you have to meet it halfway. You got this, bestie. 💖

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Pile II

Cards: The Moon, 8 of Pentacles Reversed, King of Cups Reversed, 4 of Pentacles

First off, bestie, are you feeling lost? Confused? Like you’re walking through life with a blindfold on, second-guessing yourself at every turn? Because this card is giving me me big "I have no clue what’s real and what’s just my overthinking brain" energy. Maybe you’ve been feeling unsure about your future, your relationships, or even yourself. It’s like you’re in this fog, and no matter how hard you try to see clearly, everything still feels murky. But here’s the thing, The Moon isn’t just about confusion; it’s also about intuition. So trust those gut feelings, even when your logical brain is like, "Nah, that’s crazy." Your intuition is on point, even if you don’t fully believe it yet. Now, whew, I feel called out just looking at this. These cards are all about burnout and feeling like no matter how hard you work, nothing is paying off. Have you been grinding non-stop but feeling like you’re getting nowhere? Maybe you’ve been questioning if all the effort you’re putting into something, your job, school, a passion project, is even worth it anymore. This card is saying, "Hey, take a step back and breathe for a second." You are doing so much, and while it’s great to be ambitious, you can’t pour from an empty cup. So if you’ve been feeling like you’re running on fumes, this is your permission to rest. You don’t have to be productive 24/7 to be worthy. You are enough just as you are, even when you’re resting.

Uh… what’s going on emotionally, bestie? This card is giving me major "I’m feeling everything but pretending I’m fine" vibes, idk but major olivia rodrigo vibes, from her betrayal songs. You might be feeling emotionally overwhelmed, but instead of dealing with it, you’re either bottling it up or letting it explode at the worst times. Maybe you’ve been dealing with someone who is emotionally unavailable, manipulative, or just straight-up confusing. OR (and hear me out) you might be struggling with setting boundaries, especially with people who drain you emotionally. If you've been feeling extra sensitive lately, or like you’re constantly on the verge of snapping, this is your sign to check in with yourself. Your feelings are valid, and you don’t have to pretend to be okay when you’re not. Be gentle with yourself, okay? What are you holding onto so tightly that it’s keeping you stuck? Is it fear? A toxic situation? A scarcity mindset that’s making you afraid to take risks? The universe is asking you to loosen your grip a little. You can’t welcome new blessings if your hands are full of things you’re afraid to let go of. This could be about money, love, or even old beliefs that no longer serve you. Whatever it is, I promise you, letting go won’t ruin you, it will set you free.

You’re not crazy; you’re just in a phase of uncertainty. Trust your intuition, even if things feel unclear right now. You need a break. Burnout isn’t a badge of honor. Rest is productive, too. Stop bottling up your emotions. Cry if you need to. Talk it out. Scream into a pillow. Just don’t let it fester inside. Loosen your grip. Whether it’s fear, control, or a situation that’s keeping you stuck, it’s okay to release it.

I know things might feel heavy right now, but listen, you are doing so much better than you think. You are growing, even when you feel stuck. You are worthy, even when you’re not at your best. And most importantly, you are not alone. Keep going, bestie. I believe in you.

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Pile III

Cards: The Hermit, Wheel of Fortune, The Fool, Nine of Swords Reversed.

Bestie, we need to have a real talk because this spread is giving "deep self-reflection mixed with anxiety and a sprinkle of self-sabotage." You’ve been in your introspective bag lately, haven’t you? The Hermit is showing up loud and clear, which means you’ve been spending a lot of time in your head, analyzing everything from your past mistakes to your future moves. It’s giving "I need answers, and I need them now!" vibes. But here’s the thing, sometimes the answers don’t come when you’re actively looking for them. Sometimes, they come when you allow yourself to live, to experience, to take that step forward without needing a perfect plan. And then we have the Wheel of Fortune, which is basically the universe’s way of saying, “Ready or not, here I come.” Change is coming, whether you’re prepared for it or not. The good news? This is a shift in your favor. The not-so-good news? It might feel a little uncomfortable at first. Change always does. I feel like some of you have been resisting this change, afraid to let go of old cycles, old identities, or even old people who no longer align with who you’re becoming. Bestie, it’s time. The wheel keeps turning, and you don’t want to be stuck in the past while life moves forward without you. Now, let’s talk about The Fool, reversed. Normally, The Fool is all about fresh starts, jumping into the unknown, and trusting that the universe will catch you. But reversed? It’s giving hesitation. It’s giving fear of failure. It’s giving "What if I make the wrong decision?" And to that, I ask, what if you make the right one? What if taking that leap is exactly what you need to finally feel free? Staying stuck because of fear isn’t serving you, and deep down, you know it. You’ve been standing at the edge, looking at the possibilities, but refusing to jump. It’s time to take that risk. Life is messy, unpredictable, and full of surprises, but you are capable of navigating whatever comes your way.

And LAWD, Bestie, be honest, how much sleep have you lost lately? Because I see that ya'll are going through late-night overthinking, worrying about things you can’t control, and letting fear dictate your reality. I see you stressing about things that haven’t even happened yet. It’s like your brain is running a horror movie marathon starring all your worst-case scenarios. But let me remind you: Most of those fears? They’re not real. Your mind is playing tricks on you, making you believe that everything is worse than it actually is. It’s time to break free from this cycle of stress and worry. You are stronger than your fears, and you have more control over your thoughts than you realize.

So what’s the takeaway here? you’ve done enough thinking, it’s time to apply what you’ve learned, change is coming, and you need to embrace it. Stop doubting yourself and take the damn leap. You are so much more powerful than you give yourself credit for, and the universe is fully supporting you. It’s time to step out of your comfort zone, trust yourself, and believe that good things are actually meant for you. The cycle of doubt and hesitation is ending. Let’s move forward, bestie. You go bestie! EZPZ!

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog, it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[kaiser1ns]

#. FALLIN' FOR YA

featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. togame jo, takiishi chika, umemiya hajime, endo yamato, sakura haruka, kaji ren

fluff. to say you have fallen in love is one thing, but to fall for him was something you didn't expect.

TOGAME JO

You found yourself on the rooftop of Ori, the headquarters of the Shishitoren gang, high above the ground, your heart racing as you glanced down. You had no idea how you ended up here or what possessed you to climb this high, but now you were stuck, paralyzed by fear.

"Baby, I am scared," your voice trembled as you looked down at Togame who had come to your rescue. It wasn't that high — you'd seen the way Choji jumped like a monkey, scaling the building in seconds. But you were neither Choji nor a monkey.

Your boyfriend stood below, his beautiful green eyes reflected calmness. A lazy smile played on his lips as he held out his arms. "Angel, just jump. I will catch you."

"That's even more scary. We will both get hurt," you protested, your heart pounding in your chest. He looked up at you, his smile never wavering. "Come on now, nothing bad can happen."

"Jo, do you understand that I can literally break mine and your bones?" you said, stepping back from the edge, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

"The only thing you will break is my heart if you decide to stay there any longer," he said softly. You let out a big sigh, taking a few more deep breaths before finally deciding to overcome your fear. "Alright... On three."

He began to count for you, "One... two... three!"

With your eyes squeezed shut, you jumped from the rooftop, bracing for the impact. But instead of hitting the hard ground, you felt his strong arms catch you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Angel, did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?" he whispered into your ear, a playful lilt in his voice.

You were on the verge of tears from the fear and stress of the situation, and here he was, flirting with you. "I should have stayed there," you replied, burying your face in his shoulder, half relieved and half annoyed.

TAKIISHI CHIKA

You had never thought you'd develop feelings for Takiishi Chika. Yet, here you were, inexplicably drawn to the red-headed boy who had somehow let you inside his usually closed comfort zone. One day, you found yourself asking him to teach you some defensive techniques. Just in case, you told him, you ended up alone without him in sight, which will never happen.

"So I clench my fist like this and then I—" you began, mimicking his earlier demonstration.

Elbow strikes could be thrown sideways like a hook, upwards like an uppercut, downwards with the point of the elbow, diagonally, or directly, even during a jump. As you tried to attack him, he easily stopped you, his hand catching yours, of course he will stop you he is the strongest after all.

"Don't tighten your muscles so much, and don't squat like that," he instructed, his voice calm yet firm, you loved listening to him on the rare moments he decided to speak.

You nodded, resetting your stance. Determined to impress him, you moved faster this time, but your foot caught on nothing, and you started to fall. Before you could hit the ground, his hands catched your wrists, steadying you as your body leaned closer.

Your eyes locked, his gaze made your heart race, and you were sure you were going to kiss at any second. You had fallen for him, deeply, and there was no turning back. But then, he let go, and you landed on your butt with a thud.

"Ow," you muttered, rubbing the sore spot. "What was that for, Chika?"

When you looked up, he was already walking away, his back to you. First he makes you fall for him and then making you chase after him — a typical game of cat and mouse.

You scrambled to your feet, quickly closing the distance between you. As you caught up, he glanced at you with a sidelong look, letting out a sigh. Despite his cold behaviour, you didn't miss the way his hand found its place on your waist, holding you close. You may have fallen for him, but he fell harder for you ... but you didn't hear it from me, alright?

UMEMIYA HAJIME

You have always been close to the members of Bofurin, especially with their leader, with whom you had a strange relationship, you were together but at the same time you were not. Nothing was official, but everything was real — from holding hands to kissing eachother. Right now you are not trying to think about it as you help the first years paint. Perched on a mini staircase, you meticulously worked on the higher parts, lost in the rhythm of the brush strokes.

"You are doing so well, Y/N-chan!" A familiar voice interrupted your thoughts. You didn't need to turn around to know who it was; that voice was unmistakable.

"Hajime, you scared me!" you exclaimed, your heart fluttering, as he laughed at you.

"Oh, did I? I am sorry," he said, his tone teasing. You rolled your eyes at him playfully as he crossed his arms and watched you work, a smile adoring his beautiful and gentle face.

Turning around, you noticed that it had fallen unusually silent. The first years were nowhere to be seen. Confused, you asked, "Where is everyone?"

"I made them go to Kotoha to get lunch. You can't work while hungry," he explained, his eyes soft with concern. He always cared about others and that was one of the things you liked about him.

Shaking your head with a smile, you returned to your painting, stretching to reach the higher spots. Suddenly, the staircase wobbled beneath you, and you lost your balance, but before you could fall, strong arms caught you.

"My little shooting star~ I guess my wish came true," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. Your cheeks flamed with embarrassment as you buried your face in his chest, the scent of him filling your senses. "What wish?" you wondered and asked him looking into his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes you could drown in as if you were in the ocean.

"The one where you finally fall for me!" you didn't know if he was joking or not, but even with that playful tone, he was completely serious.

"Is this how we are making it official?" you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt.

"I guess it is," he replied softly, his arms tightening around you. Here, in his embrace, was where you belonged, as you have fallen in the right place at the right time.

ENDO YAMATO

You stumble slightly as you walk, your heels clicking against the pavement as you walked hand in hand with Endo, his grip was reassuring somehow distracting you, yet you couldn't help but hiss from the pain in your feet. Those heels were a mistake, but they were the perfect finishing touch to your outfit. You curse yourself for choosing fashion over comfort, wanting everything to be perfect tonight.

"You okay there?" Endo asked, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. His voice was filled with genuine concern, sometimes it surprised you how much he cares for you, even for the smallest things.

"Yeah, nothing to worry about. It's fine," you replied, trying to mask the discomfort. He glanced at you with those thoughtful eyes that always seemed to be searching for something. "Y/N, I may be a very bad judge of character, but I know when a person experiences pain." His words were more of a hint than a statement, and you knew he was right.

You stopped walking, intending to turn to him and reassure him face to face. But as you twisted your body, your ankle gave away. You felt yourself tipping forward, bracing for the impact of the fall.

But it never came. Endo caught you, his tattooed arms strong and steady around you. "Careful, doll. Don't fall so soon for me," he teased, the mischievousness never leaving his eyes.

Your heart raced, not just from the near fall, but from the way he held you, the way you could melt right on the spot. You had always been unpredictable around him, your feelings a whirlwind that neither of you fully understood.

"Yamato," you whispered, looking up at him. His carefree personality masked a complexity you were only beginning to uncover. He made you feel loved despite him not knowing how to identify his own emotions.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours as he wondered how you do the things you do? Why do you make him feel... like this? He had hard time recognising what's happening inside his brain and heart. He never understood the emotions people around him expressed because he thought it just was how he was meant to live — like a lifeless soul.

You smiled, your heart swelling a bit uncertainty, but there was nothing to lose this time. "I like you." you admitted.

He blinked, processing your words as if you were speaking gibberish. "You... really do?" he asked, the surprise in his eyes was genuine, and for a moment, you wondered if you had made a mistake.

"If I didn't liked you, I wouldn't have gone on so many dates with you," you repeated, more confidently this time. "I didn't mean to make things awkward, but I couldn't keep it to myself any longer."

His grip on your waist tightened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "You’re serious?" You nodded, your heart was about to burst out, "Yes, I am. I know you might not feel the same way, because dating isn't your thing. I just... needed you to know."

Endo's gaze softened, and the playfulness in his eyes was replaced by something deeper, something you had never seen before coming from him.

"Y/N, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "You’ve been driving me crazy, in the best possible way."

A smile spread across your face, the pain in your feet forgotten. "Glad to know that." He chuckled, "But I can’t have you walking around in pain all night," he said, glancing down at your heels. "Here, let me help."

You looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?" Without another word, Endo crouched down in front of you, patting his back. "Hop on. I’ll give you a piggyback ride. Princesses should be taken care of."

SAKURA HARUKA

It was Tsubaki idea to invite you, Kotoha and the first years to the biggest sleepover in the history of Bofurin. He treasured you like a little sister, and took a liking in the new students especially Sakura — the boy who proved himself worthy for the gang, and the boy despite his confidence in most situations had a peculiar inability to speak or act normally around you.

The night’s activities progressed, and soon everyone found themselves engaged in a lively game of Twister. One by one, players stumbled and fell, until only you and Sakura were left on the mat. Nirei spun the wheel and called out, "Left hand on red," signaling Sakura’s turn. He gulped hard, his eyes widening slightly as he realized the predicament. You were directly beneath him, your bodies precariously close. Sakura carefully stretched his left hand towards the red circle as your hand was on the blue one, his fingers brushing yours as he did so.

The atmosphere grew tense, heat radiating from both of you as sweat glistened on his brow. His face flushed with a rosy hue, betraying his nerves and the overwhelming proximity. Meanwhile, Suo watched the unfolding scene with delight, clearly enjoying the awkward dance of two fools in love.

Nirei spun the wheel again, as he announced, "Y/N-chan, left hand on green." You felt your muscles strain, you were in a push-up position and you had to turn your whole body to reach the green circle. Every fiber in your hands screamed with effort as you managed the turn, finding yourself directly under Sakura.

The eye-patched boy, ever the prankster, seized the moment and nudged Sakura’s leg just enough to cause a slight wobble. The sudden movement startled you, and before you could steady yourself, your hands slipped. The world seemed to slow as you fell, leaving you face to face with Sakura, who had caught himself just in time.

You found yourself caged between his arms, his face mere inches from yours. His breath hitched, his cheeks a deep crimson that seemed almost like a new shade to add in the red pallet. The warmth of his body radiated into yours, his bicoloured eyes locked onto yours — panic and longing swirling within them. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out, only the soft sound of his breath mingling with yours.

Sakura wanted to kiss you, wanted to know what's it like to kiss the girl he held feelings for ... He wanted you and was not going to be a coward about it. Just as he decided to bend down even less the door opened and Tsubaki's voice echoed around the room causing him to startle and lose his balance falling on top of you.

"Oh, my! I am sorry, did I interrupt something?" Tsubaki asked, genuinely concerned about the two of you, putting his hand on his mouth from the surprised scene he stepped into.

Sakura's eyes widened in panic, but you could feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. Why couldn't he talk? His gaze, now tender and earnest, silently begged for understanding and perhaps a second chance, and pretty soon he will be able to express his feelings without a Twister next time.

KAJI REN

You were angry, extremely pissed to the point you just want to scream, throw something or someone in the pool, kill the next person who asks you another stupid question. Your nails dug into the flesh of your palms as you tried your best to stay calm. The one time you got Kaji to agree to go somewhere, some girls immediately flocked to him, even though he ignored them or politely said no.

You watched as he spoke to them, with their polite smiles, but there was nothing nice about them, only fueling your irritation. It wasn’t fair. This was supposed to be your time with him. You took a deep breath, trying to rationalize your thoughts. It wasn't his fault, after all, but it didn't make the sting any less sharp.

"Y/N," Kaji's voice pulled you from your thoughts. He had walked away from the crowd of girls and was now standing in front of you, his expression concerned, he's never seen you like this. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" you repeated, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do you think I'm okay, Kaji?"

He blinked, taken aback by your tone, as he was getting annoyed by the fact that you weren't telling him everything in the right context, "What’s wrong?"

"What's wrong?" you echoed mimicking his words, feeling your temper rise. "Do you really have to ask? Look around! Every time we go somewhere, you’re swarmed by girls. Can’t you see how frustrating that is?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and you looking at his well-shaped body. "You think I wanted that? Stop with this bullsh—"

Your frustration boiled over. Without thinking, you gave him a hard shove, sending him stumbling backwards. Before you could register what happened, he reached out, grabbing your wrist to steady himself. But it carried you both, and with a splash, you were both in the pool.

The water engulfed you, the coolness a shock to your heated skin. You struggled, disoriented, trying to find the surface. Panic set in as you realized you weren’t as good a swimmer as you thought. Just when you felt you couldn’t hold your breath any longer, strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you up.

You broke the surface, gasping for air, coughing and spluttering. Kaji held you close, his eyes wide with worry. "Breathe, Y/N, just breathe."

You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to steady your breathing. He patted your back gently, his other hand cradling your head.

"You're so stupid," he murmured, though his tone was soft, almost affectionate. "Why would you do that?"

Your cheeks burned, both from embarrassment and from the closeness, as you realised how you are skin to skin. "I... I wasn’t thinking. I just... I was so mad."

You looked up at him, his eyes were judging you but it was out of concern, "I'm sorry," you whispered. "Listen, Y/N," he began, "Those girls don't matter to me. They never have and never will." He shook his head, his fingers brushing a wet strand of hair from your face, and you knew he meant it, otherwise you would have had fallen for him or in this case with him.

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