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gureumz · 2 years

Text

coffee and mathematical physics

rating: explicit

member: jake

notes: fem!reader, university au, student council vp jake x student council secretary reader, a very speedy friends to lovers, clothed sex, spitting, shy jake 180-ing to dom!jake, unprotected sex

a/n: i really wanted to write something nasty for jake (tho i can get nastier than this wink wink) after hearing him ramble about quantum entanglement bc hello nerdy boys are so hot ugh so anyways enjoy!

the words in front of you are starting to blur and the only other thought in your mind is that you need coffee at the soonest time possible.

end-of-year reports were always a pain in the ass, especially for the student council secretary, which, by your luck, is you.

"sunoo, can we get someone to buy us coffee?" you ask, shuffling through the papers in your hands.

"we can ask jake. he's on his way," sunoo points out, taking a seat beside you. he types away furiously on his laptop, the click-clack of the keyboard grating against your ears.

"great," you grumble. "text him."

sunoo makes a sound akin to being offended. "the last time i checked, i was vice president for internal affairs, a rank higher than you."

you turn to sunoo, scowling. he's smiling, obviously having not taken your command to heart.

"okay, okay, i'll text him," sunoo soothes, patting you on the back.

you feel a heaviness in your head as you try your hardest to remember the order the documents have to be in.

annex a, then annex b, then annex c-1, annex c-2...wait, was there an annex b-2? what's that supposed to contain? officer info? council info?

your internal tirade against the university bureaucracy is interrupted when sunoo gasps, giggling right after.

"how sweet, jake's already bought coffee even before i told him to."

"classic jake," you supply, a hint of a smile on your lips.

jake, as the vice president for external affairs, was expected to be the outgoing and agreeable one. true to his job description, jake always made an effort to make sure everyone in the council's mental health was accounted for. he knew when jay was about to bust a vein (and how to prevent it from happening altogether), he can tell when sunoo's getting overwhelmed with university grievances, and jake always somehow knew when you needed a cup of coffee.

always. without fail. just as you were thinking about it, jake would offer you a trip to starbucks.

"he does this whole coffee thing for you, you know," sunoo points out, nudging you with his arm.

"he does not," you argue, slamming the clear book cover shut. you push the papers away from you, your temples throbbing and your eyes aching from the strain.

"he does," sunoo insists, closing his laptop as well. "he told me once how he'd never bought coffee for someone so many times until you started working together."

"i never told him to do that," you mumble, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. "i don't tell him to pay, either, but he does about half the time."

"he's so down bad for you," sunoo giggles, getting up. he packs away his laptop, rummaging around his bag.

"are you leaving already?" you question, disappointed, as you thought you'd have another set of eyes and hands to help you with the report.

sunoo nods, pouting apologetically. "i promised ni-ki we'd eat dinner together."

you make a face. "he's so down bad for you," you repeat, imitating sunoo's high-pitched teasing.

he laughs, swatting at your shoulder.

before any of you can get another word in, the door to the council room opens. in walks jake, a paper bag in hand, and his oh-so-dazzling smile plastered on his face.

"someone asked for coffee?" jake says, eyes meeting yours. you can't help but smile back at him, having known for quite some time that jake's smile was just that contagious.

"we did!" sunoo replies cheerily, skipping over to jake. the latter hands him a cup.

"the usual," jake informs. "mint choco frappe, albeit disgusting, is a must for our mint choco lover."

sunoo punches jake lightly on the arm.

"and for our hardworking secretary," jake begins, walking over to you at the table. "an iced caramel macchiato."

you accept the drink, thanking jake as you do so.

"so caring," you comment, giving him your sweetest smile. "my dream guy, indeed."

"and that's my cue to leave," sunoo declares, walking over to the door, his bag in hand.

"let me know if you need any help, ______! i'll get back to you as soon as i can," sunoo calls out as he pulls the door open, exiting swiftly, but not before shooting you a knowing glance over his shoulder.

jake, most likely oblivious to the exchange of looks, takes a seat beside you, rifling through the papers you had just organized moments ago.

"these all look in order," jake observes, tongue sticking out from the corner of his lips. you stare, albeit unintentionally, cursing inwardly at how attractive this little habit of his is.

not that you'd admit that jake was attractive, not out loud, at least. sure, he was extremely good-looking, with sharp eyes and an equally sharp nose, and lips that are to die for, not to mention that personality that toed the line between warm golden boy and reckless frat boy. you don't even want to get started on how he gets around girls, especially the pretty ones and—

"what else is missing?" jake asks, turning to you. you blink rapidly, trying to regain some coherent thoughts in your head, but the only thing you can focus on at the moment is how good jake smells.

"uh...," you begin lamely. jake grins, raising his eyebrows as he moves his face closer to yours, the same way you would when encouraging a child to tell you about their day.

"evaluation forms," you conclude, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. "the evaluation forms from last year's events."

jake nods, turning away momentarily. he pulls his laptop out before powering it up.

"jungwon should have that covered, right? he's the one who audited and liquidated them, after all," jake wonders out loud as he types. your eyes drift down to his hands and an internal monologue threatens to fire up inside you once more.

"yeah," you reply, willing yourself to stare at his laptop screen instead. "i think he just hasn't come around to printing them, yet."

"but they should be in the drive," you add.

jake hums, focused on the task at hand. in the meantime, you busy yourself with your coffee, taking a long sip, and immediately feeling your headache ease up.

"thanks again for the coffee," you say, lightly bumping your shoulder against jake's.

jake turns to you, smiling. you stare at each other for a few seconds as you take another sip. after a while, jake chuckles.

"what?" you ask, fingers swiping at your cheek. "did i get something on my face?"

jake transitions to a full giggle before shaking his head. "no. it's just cute that you're drinking out of a cup with my name on it."

you cock your head to the side before turning the cup around. sure enough, jake's name is scribbled on the side. nothing unusual, seeing as he was the one that ordered your drink.

"okay...?"

"nothing, it's nothing," jake says with a shake of his head.

"no, tell me," you insist, pulling on jake's wrist. he giggles some more, turning away from you in an attempt to hide his face.

"jakeeee," you whine, tugging on his arm. he meets your gaze, and it's only then you notice just how close he's gotten.

"okay, don't get weirded out, but like, imagine if i posted a story of you drinking from that cup," jake explains, gesturing to the drink in your hand. you nod, your curiosity building.

"and it has my name on full display. and you're drinking from it. the cup, with my name on it," jake continues, eyebrows raised once more as he gesticulates broadly with his hands, as if trying to get an obvious point across.

"and? is that supposed to mean anything?" you question, crossing your arms in front of you.

"i guess? i mean—well, i don't know!" jake stammers, collapsing into another fit of his adorable giggles. you laugh along, genuinely lost at what he's trying to get at.

"what, is it supposed to come off as like some romantic gesture that you bought coffee for me?" you ask, not expecting any particular answer, but jake's face blanks out at your words, his mouth opening and closing as if trying to find the right words.

"i mean, yeah," jake says timidly.

"but, you buy coffee for everyone on the council," you point out.

"because i didn't want to seem so obvious," jake admits, scratching at the back of his neck. you stare at him for a moment, unsure of where this is going.

"obvious? obvious about what?"

jake sighs, wiping his hands on his pants. "that i was trying to impress you with the coffee."

your eyes widen almost comically at this admission. jake was trying to impress you?

"you didn't have to do all that," you protest, suddenly guilty at how oblivious you've been. in your defense, you didn't want to read into it too much, if at all, for that matter.

"but, we're having this conversation now, so i guess it worked," jake says with a shrug. silence washes over the two of you as you try to think of what to say next.

"sorry," jake mumbles, clearly embarrassed.

"what? no! it's cute. you're cute," you blurt out and jake catches onto the last sentence, eyebrows almost shooting off his forehead.

"no, for real," you continue in a rush. "it's very sweet of you, jake."

jake grins, unable to hide the blush blossoming on his neck and ears. you feel your own face warm up.

"right," jake replies, clearing his throat. "it's nothing, really, i mean, i was gonna ask you out eventually, but—well, i wasn't really sure when, it's just—"

jake cuts himself off, covering his face with both his hands.

"god, sorry, what do i even say to that?" jake complains, laughing, obviously too embarrassed to speak.

you laugh, reaching over to pull his hands off his face. he looks at you with wide, puppy-dog eyes and you're convinced you've never seen anything as adorable as jake in this moment.

"relax," you say as you take jake's hands in yours. you set your coffee cup down. "tell you what, let's just put that conversation away for now."

you pull your chair closer to jake's, your knees knocking against his. you thread your fingers between his own, turning your full attention to him.

"tell me about your day instead," you suggest, laying your other hand on your clasped ones. jake seems to visibly relax at this, squeezing your hand.

"okay," jake begins hesitantly. "well, i had one class today, which was mathematical physics."

you nod, encouraging him to go on.

"i don't wanna bore you with the specifics, so...," jake warns, seemingly unsure of whether to continue or not.

"you could never bore me," you reply, smiling. jake's whole face turns red this time and he can't help the peals of laughter that erupt from his lips.

"you can't say stuff like that," jake says with a pout. "you just can't!"

you grin, amused at jake's flustered state. "okay, okay, i won't. please, tell me about mathematical physics."

jake clears his throat again, cheeks still a shade of pink. "right, so it's a class that i really enjoy because, if you didn't know already, i love math and physics, so this is like their genius lovechild or something."

you nod, leaning closer to jake. if he notices, he doesn't say anything.

"it's mostly just theory since it bases on the mathematical foundation of theoretical physics," jake pauses. "duh jake, theoretical physics, so, of course, it's mostly theory."

you snicker at his little side commentary.

"so yeah, we had a lecture today, and not going into specifics again since you probably wouldn't understand much of it anyway, we touched on statistical mechanics."

you nod along, and as much as you hate to admit it, you've tuned out most of what jake's saying, too focused on the way his face lights up and shifts as he explains. he still uses his hands as he goes along, even the one that's holding yours.

it's cute.

you don't realize that he's stopped talking until he suddenly laughs, getting closer to your face.

"you're not listening, are you?" jake challenges, grinning mischievously.

you stutter for a few seconds, mentally kicking yourself because you're the one who convinced him to talk about his day and you're not going to listen to him in the end?

it's your turn to be embarrassed as he lets go of your hand in favor of resting his arm on your chair behind you, circling it around your shoulders.

"sorry," you murmur, a sudden warmth spreading over you. "i don't really care about physics. i just wanna hear you talk about it."

jake smiles. "oh?"

"yeah," you nod, shifting closer to him. you swing your legs over to rest on his lap, meaning it to be a wholesome gesture, just something to bring you physically closer to him.

jake doesn't seem as flustered now because he catches your legs, tucking his forearm behind your knees before pulling you completely off your chair and onto his thighs. his other arm supports your waist now, leaving you seated sideways on his lap.

your skirt has flipped outward and you were now sitting your bare ass on jake.

"you're such a nerd," you comment with a laugh, circling your arms around jake's neck. his eyes flick up and down between your eyes and lips.

you get the message.

"a hot nerd, i hope?" jake asks, tilting his head to the side.

"the hottest," you confirm before leaning in to press your lips to his.

jake groans, fingers curling into the material of your blouse as he pulls you even closer. you part your lips, his other hand delicately tucking strands of hair behind your ear. he grips one side of your face right after, angling his own head in order to kiss you even deeper.

your own hands find purchase in his perfectly gelled hair, the soft strands gliding in between your fingers. something about jake walking out of this room with messed up hair because of you sends a jolt of excitement through your body.

"sit on me, baby," jake requests, pulling away. he's panting, eyes dark as he looks at you with want.

"i already am," you say with a hint of confusion.

"you know what i mean," jake says, voice gruff as his hands grab your waist, maneuvering you around. you hurriedly slide off his lap, but only for a second.

you straddle jake, your thin lace underwear and his cotton sweatpants the only barriers between your heated core and his hard-on.

you swivel your hips forward experimentally and the friction has you moaning. jake throws his head back, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

you continue your movements at a steady pace, the only sounds coming from both of your labored breathing. it should be embarrassing how you're like a couple of horny teenagers just humping each other at school of all places, but neither of you has the capacity to care at the moment.

jake reaches under your skirt from behind, palms smoothing over your ass before he grabs at your cheeks, controlling your movements.

"fuck yeah," he curses under his breath, looking up at you through his long lashes. you reach down, undoing jake's button-up, all the way down to the last button, exposing his toned chest and abs.

"get off" jake whispers. "bend over the desk."

you inhale, practically scrambling off jake's lap. you do as you're told, pressing your upper body against the table, documents and all, exposing your ass to jake.

he flips your skirt over, dragging your panties down until they fall at your ankles. you step out of them, kicking them off to the side. you squeal when you feel jake's fingers running up and down between your folds, coating himself with your wetness.

"who knew a few cups of coffee over the course of a semester would lead to this," jake says, slipping a finger in. you bite your lip, trying to conceal the sounds that threaten to escape your lips.

jake adds another. "spread wide open for me."

jake slowly drags his fingers in and out of you and you have to clamp a hand down on your mouth. you clench around the thick digits, the pad of jake's thumb ghosting over your puckered rim. he teases it ever-so-slightly and you can't stop the whimper that leaves you.

jake covers the lower half of your face with his large hand. "sshh," jake coos in your ear as he leans down. "don't want anyone to discover the student council vice president and secretary getting it on in the council room now, do we?"

you shake your head, grabbing at jake's wrist. you mumble against his palm, but it comes out a garbled mess of words. he seems to take pity on you because he removes his hand momentarily to let you speak.

"please," you try to say as quietly as you can, despite jake's fingers shoved deep inside you. "fuck me, please."

you turn to look at jake and it's like all traces of the previous jake are gone. his face is serious but a dark glint is in his eyes, and you somehow know you're about to get fucked within an inch of your life.

jake forces your head down on the table, your cheek smushing against the smooth plastic. jake removes his fingers from inside you, leaving you clenching around nothing. you hear a wet pop and you immediately know he's helping himself to your arousal.

"delicious, babe," jake comments, leaning down to plant a kiss on your temple.

"if anything gets too much, our safe word is 'coffee'," jake reminds, kissing you again, this time on the cheek that isn't being pressed against the desk.

jake lets go of you for a second, but you don't dare move, both afraid and exhilarated at the idea of what might happen if you do. you hear rustling from behind you and you know jake has pulled his pants down.

you turn to take a peek and what you see has your mouth watering.

jake is of a highly commendable size. you'd say around 6 inches from where you're looking and girthy.

jake catches you staring and he snickers, giving his cock a few pumps.

"like what you see, sweetheart?" jake asks, thumbing at the precum spilling from his tip.

"yeah," you breathe out. "can't wait to have it inside me."

jake chuckles lowly. "no need to wait, baby."

jake rubs the length of your core once, twice, before pushing right in. a sound between a groan and a sigh escapes you, the feeling of fullness hitting you head-on.

"fuck," jake curses. "fuck yes."

jake starts to move, pulling out almost all the way before plunging back in. he goes in so deep, it. has your head spinning. you lay there, splayed out against the work you were poring over merely half an hour ago, wondering if the office would accept cumstained documents.

"up," jake commands. it takes you a second but you manage to hold yourself up with trembling arms, the desk's mechanical creaking loud inside the room.

jake takes hold of your neck his other arm wrapping around your waist. he pulls you flush against him, thrusting up shallowly into your dripping pussy.

"good girl," jake croons in your ear. he tightens his fingers around your airway. "you're my good girl, right?"

you let out a sound, unable to find proper words to confirm that, yes, you're his good girl and you'd do anything he asks of you, whatever it is he wants, you'd gladly do it.

your meek whimpers turn into a whine of protest when you feel jake pull out. he leans over, shoving papers and other things to the very edge of the desk. some papers flutter off the table completely but both of you fail to notice.

"lie down," jake instructs, pushing you towards the desk. you turn around, hoisting yourself up on the desk before laying down as jake had said.

jake enters you again, resuming his previous pace. pressure builds up inside of you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head with every brush of jake's cock against that one spot within.

"open," jake's voice cuts through the haze in your mind. you blink at him, unsure of what he's asking you to do. he makes a sound of impatience, grabbing your jaw.

"open your mouth," jake says, leaning over. you part your lips and jake aligns his face above yours. he gathers spit between his lips and before you can register what he's doing, he lets the liquid fall right into your awaiting mouth.

"swallow," jake orders, forcing your mouth shut. you oblige, your whole body flushing at the filth he's making you do.

jake speeds up his movements, seemingly satisfied. you gasp, grabbing onto jake's arm. he's holding onto your hips as if you were nothing, his grip on you so tight, like he might fling you around with no problem at all. he's fucking you like a man starved and you're loving every second of it.

"g-gonna cum," you whimper, fingers clumsily rubbing at your clit in an attempt to bring you closer to your orgasm.

"yeah?" jake responds. "gonna cum all over my cock, hm?"

you nod frantically, back arching off the table as you feel it approach.

"come on baby, cum all over this cock," jake eggs on. "so fucking hot, baby, cumming from this cock alone."

you cry out, a wave of pleasure crashing into you. your mouth hangs wide open, breathing labored as euphoria grips you from every side.

you hear jake groan from above you and you watch as your orgasm is fading away, jake pulling out and pumping his cock furiously. he finishes all over your exposed cunt, some of his cum staining your skirt.

yours and jake's breathing comes out loud, both of you spent from the harsh fucking you just did.

"fuck," jake mutters, rubbing his softening dick all over your swollen pussy. "that's hot."

you laugh breathlessly, propping yourself up on your elbows. jake looks at you, immediately bursting into laughter.

"well, damn," jake says, pulling back to survey the scene in front of him.

"that's one pretty picture if i've ever seen one," jake concludes, giving you a thumbs up.

you roll your eyes, peeking down to assess the mess you both made.

"shut up and help me clean up," you tease good-naturedly, sliding off the desk. jake smiles, leaning in to peck your lips.

"of course, my ever-so-hardworking secretary."

#enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #jake smut #jake scenarios #w: jake

1K notes · View notes

perfectsunlight · 4 months

Text

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 [𝟏𝟑]

𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: NONEEEEE WE CHEERED.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.3k

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀: 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗽𝗶𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲

sm entertainment officially announced ningning’s hiatus one month after her arrival at the rehab center.

they said she was taking time for herself in order to focus on her health and wellbeing. most people had no idea where she had gone.

dispatch had no sightings of her for weeks. they did not even know when she was at the hospital either, to which everyone was thankful for. the company was shocked to know that the chinese idol was willing to get sent to rehab.

however, despite the initial shock, they offered to pay for all the expenses and also said she could take all the time she needed in order to get better.

the truth is bulletproof, there's no fooling you

i don't dress the same

yizhuo needed to be away from the city. she needed to be somewhere where she could find who she truly was. geoje was where the company decided to send her. it was a 4 hour drive from seoul, making it just far enough for her to get away, but also close enough for people to come visit. the city was right off the coast of busan, situated on an island connected to the mainland via bridges.

she would hate to admit it, but part of her never wanted to leave geoje. it was beautiful, and she felt like she could be herself within the sanctuary of the rehab center. it was a bit difficult at first, opening up to complete strangers about her issues, but she was willing to try her best.

that was all anyone expected of her here — to just try her best.

she had never had that environment. it felt nice to have such a change. it felt right.

me and who you say i was yesterday

have gone our separate ways

most of the people who arrived at the center were older than she was, meaning they had no idea who she was. there was an older woman who worked as an instructor for an art class that the facility offered, and whenever ning would go in and draw, she would sing.

she had told yizhuo that she should become a singer when she gets out because her voice was outstanding. all the chinese girl could do was smile and laugh a little.

it was ironic for her. she used to love being known by everyone as “ningning from aespa”, but here she loved being unknown. when she arrived, she said she was an international student studying korean language at yonsei.

it was a believable cover story, and no one questioned it. the anonymity was a relief. she could walk around without the weight of her idol identity.

there were no fans to impress, no expectations to meet, no cameras capturing her every move.

she could just be yizhuo, a young woman finding her way back to herself.

left my living fast somewhere in the past

'cause that's for chasing cars

days at the center had a gentle rhythm. mornings began with a communal breakfast, where she’d chat with the other residents, exchanging stories of their pasts and dreams for the future. after breakfast, there were various therapy sessions. she found solace in group therapy, where she realized she wasn’t alone in her struggles. the stories she heard, though different from her own, were a reminder that everyone had their battles. in the afternoons, she often joined the art class.

the instructor, mrs. lee was her name, was a kind-hearted woman in her sixties, with a voice that was both soothing and encouraging. she felt more of a mother to yizhuo than her own had. her words of praise and encouragement made ning feel seen, not as an idol, but as a person with potential beyond her public persona.

it was different to have someone so maternal, but she thoroughly felt better. whenever it felt difficult to open up, she would talk to mrs. lee. she had a way of listening that made yizhuo feel understood, without judgment or pity. the idol realized all she ever needed was someone who wouldn’t pity her.

turns out open bars lead to broken hearts

and going way too far

the two became closer when the older woman found her crying after her first few sessions of therapy with the facility’s psychiatrist. mrs. lee never asked any questions, and simply just embraced the younger girl in a tight hug until yizhuo’s tears stopped. from that day forward, ning went to mrs. lee for everything.

“you're stronger than you think,” mrs. lee would often say, her aged eyes filled with kindness. “you’ve done well. only you can be the best version of yourself, for yourself.” these words resonated deeply with the young idol. she began to see her journey not as a series of failures, but as a testament to her resilience.

she was ning yizhuo, a girl who did the best she could. and that was all she could ever want to be.

take one, pour it out

it's not worth crying 'bout the things you can't erase

on days when she felt particularly overwhelmed, yizhuo would take long walks along the coast. the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks was therapeutic. ning had never been a fan of beaches (mostly because of the sand), but upon arriving in geoje, she fell in love with them.

at first, she would just walk to the steps that led down to the sand but not descend. she’d only lean against the railing and watch the water from above, not wanting to touch the sand. the rhythmic ebb and flow of the tides calmed her, the vastness of the ocean making her own problems seem smaller, more manageable.

like tattoos and regrets

words i never meant and ones that got away

but as days turned into weeks, she found herself longing to be closer to the water. one morning, she took a deep breath and made her way down the steps. she hesitated at the bottom, toes just inches away from the sand.

with a determined sigh, she stepped onto the beach, feeling the grainy texture beneath her feet. the initial discomfort faded as she walked along the shore, the cool water lapping at her ankles. it became a ritual for her—each day, she’d venture a little further, letting the sand and sea become her sanctuary.

she began to see the beach not just as a place, but as a metaphor for her own journey—constantly changing, yet always moving forward.

left my living fast somewhere in the past

and took another road

the young woman found herself collecting different things from each trip to the shore. on some days it was a small rock, and others it was other things.

she often collected seashells to save them for you. they were like little pieces of happiness for her, just like you were.

sometimes, she’d even sit on a large rock by the water’s edge, watching the waves crash and retreat. one of the gifts you had given her before she left was a digital camera. without missing an evening, ning took photos of every sunset.

it reminded her of you, after all. it was only fair of her to show you.

the beach was quiet. ningning hated the quiet before. now, she loved it.

quiet meant she could breathe. she had control of her thoughts and emotions. she no longer let her mind bully her.

turns out crowded rooms empty out as soon

there's somewhere else to go, oh

visitors were allowed to come once a week, meaning most of the time, her members all came to visit her together. of course, she didn’t have a visitor every week, but sm made sure to keep these visits out of the public’s prying eyes when you or her members did come and visit.

karina usually brought her new stationary, minjeong brought snacks, and aeri would bring her new sd cards for her camera or clothes for the seasonal changes. although ning was away from everyone she knew, she never truly felt lonely.

she had made peace with her isolation. however, the only person she constantly missed was you.

she’d never thought of ever writing a letter, but she was over the moon when she saw you had written her one a few weeks after she was sent to the facility. mrs. lee teased yizhuo by saying she’d never seen her really smile until she saw her reading the letter. ningning missed you more than she could understand.

it wasn’t a bad feeling of longing either, but rather a feeling of curiosity for what you were doing at the moment. before she had left seoul, you had mentioned to yizhuo that you had broken up with aeri the night she was hospitalized.

ningning didn’t need to ask any questions about it, she knew why it happened. you cared about ning. more than anyone else, or anything else.

and she cared about you, too. more than anyone else, or anything.

i know i used to be crazy

messed up, but, god, was it fun

after being in rehab for 6 months, ningning was finally comfortable enough to return to seoul.

on her last day there, mrs. lee had brought her a gift. it was a beautifully wrapped box with a note attached to it. the note read, “for the journey ahead. with love, mrs. lee.” ning carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a set of watercolor paints in a case with her initials on it.

mrs. lee smiled warmly. “i thought you might want to continue expressing yourself through art. remember, these are tools for your journey, just as much as your voice is.” tears welled up in yizhuo’s eyes as she hugged the older woman tightly.

mrs. lee must have known who she really was. the idol decided not to question it.

“thank you for everything,” she whispered. “i’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.” mrs. lee simply patted her back gently. “go out there and show the world who you have always been. and never forget, you’re always welcome back here if you need to escape.”

i know i used to be wild

that's 'cause i used to be young

the facility threw the young idol a send off ceremony the day before she was leaving. there were games and delicious food, and even karaoke. naturally, yizhuo stole the show with her voice. mrs. lee had been taking photos and videos for the chinese girl on the camera you got her. even though rehab was tough, ning didn’t ever want to forget her time here.

“i’ve learned a lot here. thank you all for helping me remember who i truly am.” yizhuo said with a warm smile as she bowed, concluding her parting speech.

the applause that followed was heartfelt, and ningning felt a sense of closure and gratitude. the friends she had made and the experiences she had shared in geoje were now a part of her story, a chapter she would cherish forever.

as the evening wound down, yizhuo mingled with the staff and residents, sharing hugs and promises to keep in touch. later that night, she found herself back at the beach for one last walk. the moonlight danced on the waves, creating a serene scene. she took out the camera and captured a few final shots, wanting to hold on to this moment forever.

with a deep breath, she whispered a goodbye to the ocean, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. she was ready to move forward, but she would always carry a piece of this place with her.

those wasted nights are not wasted

i remember every one

sm entertainment had expressed their excitement in regards to yizhuo feeling well enough to return to seoul. she was a bit nervous for facing the public and their questions to where she had been, but one thing the idol had learned was boundaries.

she didn’t have to tell the world where she had been. only the people who needed to know, knew.

ningning didn’t bring her phone with her to the facility. it was something the facility had requested before her initial arrival. it was quite the laugh when the chinese girl showed up with a mp3 player. however, the idol was thankful she downloaded as many songs as she could have because the upcoming 4 hour drive would be a bit more boring without it.

a car pulled up to the curb, and for a moment ning was confused. she couldn’t see who was inside because of the tinted windows, but when the passenger side window was lowered, she couldn’t help but smile.

i know i used to be crazy

that's 'cause i used to be young

you smiled and ning swore she was about to throw up from excitement. she practically bolted inside with her backpack and duffle, almost hitting her head on the roof when she got inside.

“hey, stranger,” you greeted her warmly, your eyes twinkling with joy. “ready to go home?” the chinese girl nodded, feeling a rush of emotions. she had missed you, she had missed seoul, she had missed her members.

“more than ready.”

you tell me time has done changed me

that's fine, i've had a good run

“you didn’t forget anything, right?” you teased as you set the car into drive. the idol laughed at your remark before pretending to feign thought. “hm,” she hummed as she tapped her finger against her chin. “just this.”

ningning leaned over the center console and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

your cheeks flushed with a warm pink, and you couldn’t help but smile and roll your eyes playfully. “definitely not something to forget,” you replied, feeling a happy flutter in your chest. with one hand on the steering wheel, you took the other and intertwined your hand in the idol’s.

“let’s go home.”

i know i used to be crazy

that's 'cause i used to be young

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑵𝑫.

a/n: WE CHEERED ! thank you for all of the support for this series, i love u all <3

𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧: @jiihu @silantryoo @rosiehrs @craftymasterlistcomicsprune @skisk1 @jisooftme @babycubchae @yunjinhart @pandamiswifey @jenoteamo @lcv3lies @pagedpick7 @bexisbomb @lcv3lies @lauxymy4 @justalittledissociation @captivq @jeindall777

CLOSED.

#ningning #ning yizhuo #ningning x reader #aespa x reader #aespa #aespa fic #kpop fic #karina #winter #giselle #gxg #wlw #kpop #groupie love #perfectsunlight

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wmarximoff · 2 years

Text

𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐞𝐚 | 𝐰. 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟

summary: because only you can make Wanda feel at home.

warnings (18+): smut, strap-on sex (r receiving), name-calling, spanking, daddy kink, slight breeding kink, choking, weed consumption, mental health issues. MINORS DNI.

pairing: stoner!emo!Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 5k

masterlist|

༺ᱬ༻

In the light of Wanda Maximoff's gaze the stars did not twinkle in flashes of silver that night – but neither they did during the night before that, or even the other night before that, one colder on the skin than the other, the light slowly fading into the dull, aged silver of the big city sky. There was no sparkle in those eyes that stared at the dark sky above her head.

The noise from the street below, the cars and passers-by and that sound of life, didn't reach up there on the seventh floor – everything blended into an amalgamation just down there, a distant and reserved experience. The sky vault was vast and absconding like a black hole that swallows everything that orbits it, and the apartment was closer to the sky than to the earth. The stars were there as they always were, but each twilight was duller than the previous one.

Not that Wanda wasn't used to a kind of internal calluses, but even the unlit night sky reflected the mood of those dead eyes in a somber emerald green, which didn't see the brightness of the world around her – eyes that didn't see anything else, as in a kind of trance, a willful blindness of blurred faces.

Even if the night had been serene and peaceful, a veil of moonlight draped over the metal of the rings spread across the lengths of her fingers, there would still be no glow that could pierce the shrouded bubble around Wanda's hunched silhouette, who smoked a long, white cigarette with a yellow filter, placidly seated in a chair with withered legs made of dark and solid plastic – the apartment's balcony was as modest as a boat that can only hold two or three people, and a group of four people would not fit there even squeezed against each other, with their elbows and shoulders touching as if inside a crowded elevator.

The Bronx apartment was small, the best a couple of college students with a part-time job could afford on the lowest paycheck. For a pair of twins like that, it was almost like sharing the visceral walls of the same uterus again.

Sokovian literature accompanied her open just above her pale thighs joined together, who was only wearing light denim shorts on that tragic New York summer night, warm and dry. This one, however, was a small book in a soft cream cover, scarcely more than a hundred bound pages—a crowded metric of Cyrillic letters in uniform stanzas; poems in a language reminiscent of her native tongue, her mother's favorites. Wanda hated poems and she hated her mother as well.

But sometimes, as if in a sardonic torture, it was necessary to conjure up that ghost of the past, foreboding and restless, struggling at its core, because the shroud of monotony was too much in the bosom of the newfound adult life in the big city, so far from home as Wanda was. She had gone to study, away from war and famine and her mother – but poverty has to be a constant specter in a young immigrant's life, like a hidden tumor, sucking little by little.

Sometimes homesickness visited her at night, when the world was too much to bear outside her comfort zone. And then came the urge, the chest pulsing hard, crackling under her skin, seeking refuge in the idea of that creature who primarily should offer her some kind of comfort, however Wanda did not actually taste that source of support as primigenous as Pietro Maximoff, her twin brother, had done, drinking it straight from the fountain.

Pietro was sweet, a good boy and a fine son, but their mother hated her as much as only a mother can love a daughter. And Wanda loved her as much as a daughter can hate a mother.

And so she read, traced with the tip of her peeling black-painted fingernail each line of that little set of Sokovian poems, looking for comfort where she thought she could find it in those withered lines. But it didn't do any good, not when Wanda hated poems, thought they were boring and pointless. And even the cigarettes didn't help her enjoy them with an active air of a condemned intellectual, despite the fact that she loved the sweet, harsh death that smoked down her throat, quieting her since the beginning of the immature nerves of adolescence.

But it wasn't the infuriating poems or the countless cigarette butts pressed against the hollow bottom of a metal ashtray one after the other like a handful of unlit candles stuffed into the top of a birthday cake, or the memory of a monotone childhood in the Sokovian province that would fill the void in her chest, and that Wanda had always known.

Poems were boring, cigarettes were rotting her insides, and from the bosom of youth she'd yearned to pack up her things and leave Sokovia behind for good, without a kiss or a goodbye. But the dream died still in the womb – there was, far from home, a certain depressing monotony, so different from the monotony of living a life in a place where you don't want to be, imbued in the action that was occasionally crossed by long sleepless nights, in the company of stress and intrusive thoughts.

She didn't feel at home in New York, but Sokovia had never been her home either. But finding a certain degree of depressed boredom within her dream seemed worse to Wanda than the monotony of living in a house where everything looked the same. There was something wistful for her to discover that everything she'd ever wanted could be just as depressing.

There was just something wrong, something wrong with her spirits, like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle that didn't quite fit together. Maybe the world didn't spin for her the way it did for others. Maybe she just expected too much from a world that always offered so little.

“Are you smoking on the balcony again, Wanda?”

The voice came rumbling from within the walls of the small apartment, from the back of her head – a high, masculine tone and charged with that hard-talking rhythm of south-eastern European accent still limiting the pronunciation of the English words, sanding them harshly, as in a solid chant.

“I am,” was her reply, the dull tone of a corpse still harboring a soul that struggles to shed its shell, her accent sounding just as strong as his, “I kind of needed this right now.”

“Dude, you know you need to stop doing it.”

Towards Wanda then, from the profuse darkness of a living room with lights out and gushing dimness that swallowed the hand-me-down furniture placed there, the figure of a young boy halfway to finish performing the thrusting motion his elbow into the right hole of a dark blue denim jacket, new and clean, freshly pressed and still smelling of lavender fabric softener.

Wanda looked at him with emerald irises tired by poetry, from under her long lepidopterous lashes laden with smoke – Pietro, tall and strong, had tresses of his poorly bleached hair cut short, a mane of unruly hair soft to the touch, and a beard with wisps of unmade dark threads carpeting his square jaw and around his thin lips. There was something herculean about the boy; he had always been something of an athletic, if even dour, type, a hit with the young ladies their age, the twins. The Fast Jock and the Weird Girl.

“You smoke all the time too, don't be a hypocrite now, Piet. Isn’t fair.”

“It's not because of that,” snapped her twin brother in bad manner, creasing a patch of fur between his bushy brows, then adjusting the cut of the jacket to his broad shoulders as he grabbed her by the lapels in his big hands, pulling the garment forward.

Although not so close to her brother, separated by the distance of an outstretched arm, Wanda was quite capable of distinguishing the aroma of woody cologne and fresh and striking deodorant, like a walk through the men's cosmetics section in a corner pharmacy.

“The neighbors will complain about the smell again and you know we don't have the money to pay another fine. Miss Harkness will be the first to complain, you know she always does. I'm not going to pay anything now, I don't have a penny left in my pocket. You'll have to manage to pay that fine if she complains again. And you’re the one doing the talking this time, not me.”

“Miss Harkness hates me,” Jadish eyes rolled in their sockets, a twirl of scorn, “She will complain about me every chance she gets.”

“Just put this shit off, c’mon.”

“No.”

“Wanda.”

But Wanda yielded to the stern blue gaze of her older twin brother, and with a single flick of her right wrist, she pressed the burning end of her cigarette against the bottom of a red tin ashtray placed just above the small table next to her, imagining that that piece of metal blurred by ember ash and toasted smoke was the pointed face of the middle-aged landlady, owner of profuse brown locks and a big pearly smile, who was always carrying in her arm a white rabbit, old and fat, almost similar to a puffy domestic cat.

“Okay, are you happy now?”

“My pocket certainly is, yeah,” the boy with the unnaturally pale hair muttered under his breath, before turning on heels shoved in white sneakers and turning his back on his sister, sitting in the high chair on the balcony.

“And why is this house so dark, eh? Turn on some lights every now and then, Wanda. We’re not animals living in a cave. This looks like one of those vampire movies... you're in your vampire phase again, is that it?”

The single lamp on the ceiling of the room had been turned on by Pietro's indicator pushing the plastic switch up, a beam of pearly white light coming from inside the house, passing through the tall sliding glass doors and bothering Wanda's irises, acclimated to the darkness of a dull night, in a corrosive ardor that incited her to squint her eyelids and crease her brow like a nocturnal animal exposed to the artificial light of a car lantern on the road, hiding her face behind a curtain of thick long, dark hair in a back-necked motion.

Then Wanda, her pale face exposed to the plastic light of the ceiling lamp, suddenly became aware of her brother's state – the newly acquired jacket still smelling of the clothing store, the sneakers clean with soapy water, the collar of the shirt all perfumed and his hair well combed, the ends of his beard well trimmed, he all spotless and smelling good. And a crease of curiosity crept between her dark brows, because Pietro's usual state consisted of basketball shorts and an alternation or two between a pair of baggy shirts that he didn't wash all that often.

“Why are you so dressed up like that? That jacket is new,” she got to her feet then, the soles of her bare dusty feet hitting the cold balcony floor before stepping onto the warm floorboards inside the house, “Are you going to some job interview or something?”

“Job interview on a Saturday night, сестричко? Pff, yeah, I'm going out with a girl. You know, like actual normal people do on their free weekends.”

Pietro looked at her with a mischievous little smile broken at the corner of his thin lips, calling her “little sister” in his native language as he always did when he was purposely teasing her, treating her like a little girl, a silly girl and so ignorant of the lives of adults they should have at the end of that time in life, in a youth encapsulated in the advent of adulthood, which in all its layer of social shyness could never have considered the fact that the brother was going on a date.

And Wanda's brows furrowed for a bit, a thin squeegee of embarrassing embarrassment tugging at the pit of her stomach, her ego vaguely insulted by that childishness insinuated by Pietro – because indeed it was Saturday night, a hot and sultry night of summer in the Big Apple, and the young twin had organized no program for herself but reading pages of Sokovian poetry until her brain became an overworked illiterate while she smoked the ashes of her meager existence, interspersing the two actions between sips here and there of red tea that would eventually cool down and spill all over into her cup. College life hadn't been as kind to Wanda as it had been to Pietro, after all.

“But,” she muttered in a tight voice, brows still pinched together, “But I thought today we were going to—”

“Man, to tell you the truth I'm already well short of time,” the guy then pressed the pad of his right thumb against the side of the cell phone he fished out of the back pocket of his dark jeans, unlocking the device's screen in a flash of white glow next to his apollonian nose, which kind of hinted at the structure of her own.

“Damn it, it's almost half past eight – Monica will kill me if I'm late again. Just... you don't have to wait up for me, right Wanda? If anything, just give me a call,” and Wanda followed him with her eyes, her mouth still half open in a dead sentence, when Pietro's right fingers closed around the tin handle of the front door.

“Побачимось.”

And so Pietro was gone, the door closing with a metallic click behind him without the real expectation of a not really necessary answer from his sister, the parting word already echoing from the corridor outside. He never expected a comeback, it's true. And once again Wanda found herself alone, prostrate like a dead plant in a red clay pot in the heart of that apartment with its withered bare walls and warm floor, sulky and damp during the sticky seasons of heat and cold and bitter in the seasonal blows of winter.

Before the height of her stomach, her right fingers fit into the crooks of her left fingers, her fingertips fidgeting with the handful of silver rings dotted there, twirling them, pressing and pulling them around the spans of her fingers. The dark nail polish on her thumbnail was scratched, but she didn't care about it that much.

Pietro didn't come back for something he hadn't forgotten, but Wanda continued to stand at the door like the most faithful of dogs, as if he were going to open the door and say he'd changed his mind, opting for an evening washed down with salty buckets of popcorn and classic American sitcom along with his little sister's company. But there wasn't that. Nothing happened minutes later. From the kitchen faucet, dripping water trickled into the aluminum sink at a broken, faintly vertiginous rhythm. A fly tinkled its little fluttering wings around the lamp above her head of dark hair.

And then isolation took hold in Wanda who caged the oxygen inside her lungs, as if that house and its walls were nothing more than a bulwark that segregated her from the outside world to that door through which her brother had left her, as if the small apartment in the Bronx was her own cocoon of the social, an abode that harbored a being unworthy of sunlight, a being similar to her.

Wanda found herself trapped in a dilemma as much as she was trapped inside her own home, her body and her mind. She was tired of being hemmed in by the ceiling and floor of the apartment, and she could no longer bear the thought that with Pietro far away, as far away as he was now, being the social animal he always was, Wanda would have to be haunted by the company itself.

Without him there was just her, alone and aimless, like a shipwrecked man floating on an old, swollen piece of wood in a vast ocean where sky and sea met on the horizon, no sign of life nearby, the water so deep and dismal that you couldn't see the sand at the bottom. Just her, floating alone in the dark.

And, together from the pillars of their maternal womb, that primary cradle shared between the two twin children, Wanda did not feel that in fact she had been born to be just her, to live a life as reclusive as the experiences of today's hermit that were available before her, and despite her assertion to her brother that solitude was good for her reclusive spirit, the caliber of her involuntary anthropophobia gave an anxious squeeze to the core of young Wanda Maximoff's chest.

Solitude pleased her, but she only evoked a profuse disgust at the idea of loneliness, of isolation. Wanda feared being alone with her own thoughts.

“Fuck it.” Her peach lips curled into a long thin, taut line.

With the fingers of her right hand, Wanda searched for something in the pocket of her thin burgundy knit jacket, her black nails cut short, then slipping lightly over the half-dented pack of cigarettes also placed inside to, finally, hook against the material of her phone with which cigarettes shared space inside the cut in her pocket. She picked up the device with a certainty born of the anxious restlessness that gushed in the walls of her pharynx.

Wanda then reached for it with a movement of her elbow, bringing her phone close to the round tip of her button nose, unlocking the device's screen with the help of her right thumb. And, without hesitating to dive into that cluster of digital apps, she did what she had to do – what everything in that pitifully withdrawn situation in which she found herself in her own social exile compelled her to do, the digits of her fingers pressing the glass screen, typing on the digital keyboard.

hey can you come over?

piet is out

And then, after a second or two, a new message typed by her quick fingers flashed.

i don't wanna be alone tonight

The emerald eyes, profuse and dull in their clear irises, screwed up in anticipation of the answer like a faithful waiting for a sign from their god, staring at that little speech bubble as long as she could.

The folds of Wanda's fingers pressed against the edges of the poor phone, the loops of her rings scraping against the dark plastic. Just waiting, anticipating, fingers curled, anxiety bubbling in scarlet bubbles inside her stomach. And then, a prompt response popped up in the chat shared with that other number.

Of course I can go.

I'll be there soon, Wands .

She took a long, deep gulp of oxygen that rushed in and inflated her lungs in a refreshing release, excarcerating it right away. The muscles in both her shoulders softened into the red hooded jacket she wore – there would be no more loneliness to swallow or tears to shed. Soon you would be there for her. And it only took an interval of fifteen minutes for Wanda to open inwards the door that Pietro had closed behind him twenty-five minutes before, with a hard movement of her right elbow taut against her ribs.

That was how her gaze moved in midair so that, in such a way, it clung to your expectant eyes, which intuitively sought her greenish irises as soon as the door was opened to the inside of the apartment – and there you were, you, standing in front of her door, standing in the long, deserted hallway, staring in mutual care at Wanda's grim-faced face; the chiseled arch of her brows, the delicate lines of her button nose, the well-defined arch of her mouth and high cheekbones.

Opening the door at that moment was like opening the way for all loneliness to go away, because then you were there, there for her.

“Hey,” your lips curled into a chaste smile, “Hey, Wands.”

“Thank you.”

And then, desperate, tormented by a ghostly worry, Wanda, speechless from any verbal response to her affable greeting, walked towards you with a long-winded expression on her pretty, lightly made-up, cigarette-scented face, wanting nothing more than her girl in her own arms.

And she cupped both sides of your face between the warm palms of her hands, bringing her lips to you which she padded with her own mouth in a necessary clash, feeling you uplifted against her body, overwhelmed with her own miseries, just trying to feel nothing but you.

Your lips collided then, her hands holding you close, her rings feeling like little cool spots on the skin of your cheeks, such a disparate awareness of Wanda's warm, caring touch. There would be no better touch in the world for you than the one that displayed all the affection you knew Wanda had for you – a symbolic pair of hands on your cheeks, not only to feel you, but also to hold you and worship her. To prove she knew you were there for her like no one else would be.

“Thank you.”

Wanda muttered in a breath of hot air brushing against the pulps of your lips, still feeling the ghost of your warm lips against hers, a delicious tingle running across her tongue, tasting of ecstasy – lids closed, your foreheads touching almost shyly.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

“I'm here now, Wanda. I am here for you.”

Her warm fingers caressed the skin of your cheeks, instilling a placid serenity in her body. Short nails, coated in black nail polish, traced invisible lines across your cheekbones. Wanda reeked of melancholy and fear like the back of Marlboro cigarettes. And she kissed you once more, and then again and again, interspersing the kisses between little whispers of thanks, declarations for the void to hear. She continued until the automatic lights in the hallway went out.

ᗢ

Puddles of fabric were the pieces of clothing abandoned on the bare wooden floor like helpless stray animals. When Wanda looked up, the movement was conducive to her becoming aware of the erratic pattern where one fold of wallpaper stuck to another on the wall in front of her. It was a rather threadbare wallpaper, derived in the most accurate sense of the word from a faded red wine red that had been there before she moved into that apartment. Her orientation perspective was choked and restrained at that point – her fingertips seemed to enjoy the feel of warm flesh pressed against them, soft and firm at the same time.

Even though her vision was clouded, splattered on her lepidopterous eyelashes by drowsy droplets of a soft intoxication, she saw herself, as if able to smile to herself, lightheaded, her eyes dark green like moss – she was high because you had smoked a joint together some time ago, on the balcony (your elbows brushing and she looking at your glow under the starry sky, because no star would shine brighter than the twinkle inside your irises when Wanda looked at you, hiding the world around you two behind a foggy layer of smoke).

A thick bead of sweat formed above her temple, in her dark hairline, pouring down the length of her pale face until it dripped from her chin, just past the sharp bulge of her left cheekbone. A drop that landed on the arched back below her.

“F–fuck, daddy! Daddy!”

A high-pitched sound vibrated through the room's four red walls—the crack of a slap delivered against your skin, a smack that Wanda made sure to mark on your bottom in euphoric readiness, her fingers in pink welts on your skin, because something in her always delighted to press the bruises with which she bestowed you, ever making your flesh her possession. She loved to mark you, to make your body her perfect picture, the masterpiece of those hands that yearned for her warm skin.

“You're a fucking bitch,” she snorted in a hint of a harsh accent, “My bitch. My favorite bitch.”

“Daddy's favorite,” you repeated in a voice choked with weed and pleasure, and an electric shiver runs down Wanda's spine.

The shudder cost her a break in her rhythm and roughness and rhythm, that long scarlet silicone strap sliding to reach inside the wet folds of your pussy, but you didn't realize it, not how she did it – after all, your face plunged into the pillowcase that emanated the sweet aroma of Wanda's shampoo, the folds of your fingers hooking on the sheets that reeked of her woody perfume, as if submerging in a red mist that she referred to so much, you wouldn't have noticed that her hips wobbled once.

It was like being swallowed by her everywhere, and so you screamed, howled like a bitch in heat – and Wanda appreciated how loud you could be. Claiming her name, how good she, only she, was able to make you feel, and that you were close. Definitely close. In muffled pleas begging daddy to go faster and stronger, deeper and harder towards your womb – and behind the strap she felt her own clit every time the tip of the toy thrust into your cervix.

An indecency was arranged in your closed eyelashes when Wanda looked at you from behind, both of you being without any clothing to cover the length of your bodies as you were, as naked as the day you were born as she fucked you from behind. And at that moment, a welcoming warmth radiated from your broad-shouldered body, and for Wanda, it was like seeing herself integrated into a puddle of torrid sunlight, fulfilling her need to have you close; her arms wrapped around you from behind, her bare breasts pressed against the pale skin of your back, her feeling you there, belonging to her, moving with her.

“Daddy– please! Please wanna cum– I wanna–”

Entranced in a flash of wild desire, feeling Wanda's deft hand move across the skin of your abdomen, being smoothed by the eager digits of her left hand's clever fingers wandering southward down your body, into your tasteless hips, your mouth throbbed lewdly.

“Daddy!”

Her face was hidden in the contour of your neck, in the shoulder joint sprinkled with sloppy bruises, so that Wanda would be able to nibble, from there, a fresh patch of warm skin, easing the burning and tingling that came from the act with the tip of her tongue; her greedy nose tangled in a few profuse locks of your sweaty hair.

Your throat flexed, spilling out a breathy needy moan that pulsed against the line of your teeth. In sync your bodies moved on top of the mattress of her bed, back and forth.

“I wanna come on you,” she gasped, “I wanna mark you as mine. I'll paint your fucking womb white with my load, baby. I’ll break you until no one can use you but me. You're my fuck hole – mine, mine, and nobody else's.”

“Y– yours! I’m yours, daddy, yours!” But there was a hitch in your speech, words squeezing into your throat when Wanda's five right fingers closed against the outline of your neck, screwing into your skin like a thick rope. Saliva seeped from the corner of your lips, down into your chin.

The roar that bloomed through a crack in her lips had been a husky murmur. As her right hand was busy squeezing your neck, her left was busy plucking the pulsing nerve between your legs—so needy, an urgency growing in your bones and flesh, yearning for the ardor of her figure. Wanda, who unfolded to you with such care and mastery, her inhuman touch burning over your skin.

Her fingertips brushed your fine wet, rough pubic hair, and Wanda took a deep breath, her chest rising heavily and falling lightly, snorting a breath of warm air against the hollow of your ear—the scorching skin of her torso girding itself against your spine, who saw yourself as being able to feel the two swollen nipples pressed against your stinging shoulder blades, her thick her cock still straining your insides in a continuous, harsh back-and-forth.

“Fuck,” her tongue flicked against the roof of her mouth, followed by a curse in her native language, “You are mine, Y/n, you’ll always be mine. Mine. No one else is going to have you but me, fuck, I– I'll make sure of it, I, I'll come on you. I'm going to stuff you so everyone knows you're my bitch walking around with my cum leaking out of you.”

Your ecstasy compelled you to choke on a groan coiled in your throat, and at Wanda's speech you rolled your hips back, fucking yourself in her cock, begging for more, as debilitating when against something as simple as a touch, a simple touch of ethereal fingers, despite the strap that widened you from the inside. Wanda was the only one capable of tearing your brittle body to pieces if she wanted to, and even the vaguest idea made her blood boil in her veins.

“W-Wanna cum,” was a moan from you, your brows meeting furrowed across your peach flushed face; you sounded a little dizzy in your rambling speech, pressing your fingers against the sheet.

“Wanna cum around daddy's cock, wanna–”

“Fuck, I'm gonna come inside your greedy little cunt, gonna– fuck, Y/n!”

Before her you came in a rush of nasal groaning – harsh and confused. Screaming for Wanda, pressing your ass against her hips, shaking. But she buried herself back in you one or two more times before she did it on her own – your walls quivering and tight, familiar and pleasant enough before Wanda plunged her orgasm inside you. And in such a way that she did it, as if just being inside you was what was needed to untie the knot at her primordial apex, then a hand below her navel.

“I'm fucking coming inside you!”

She couldn't actually do it, not the way she really wanted to, but it was enough to feel that familiar tightening in the pit of her stomach when she was there, in that position, that characteristic sting of orgasm digging in her belly. Wanda withdrew from you, your glittering liquid glistening around the strap that the dark harness fastened to her waist, and, with her head seeming to weigh more than the rest of her body, Wanda toppled forward, landing on the slats bed next to you panting, in which the chest rose and fell with an impressive weight.

“Fuck… fuck.”

Her lids squint over the heavy gaze, the world dimming for a second, awareness slipping away. Eyes closed, the room immersed in a puddle of accentuated silence. Then a minute passed. And two and three. There was a click of the spark wheel of a lighter rolling against the stone, gas coming out and paper burning. Wanda's nostrils were filled with a hissing odor of burning grass, smoke reaching her. Her eyelids fluttered open.

With your spine leaning against the wallpaper behind the bed, you, sitting there, were lost in the red – the remnants of the summit ascended in a moment of pleasure smeared the inner sides of your thighs, like a ghost of what was once the climax of the carnal act in which they were so vividly engaged. Swallowing a lit joint between your fingers, Wanda never found you as beautiful as she did at that moment, high and fucked, light for the orgasm and the weed.

“You… are really mine, aren't you?” she asked in a grim voice thread, that accent rolling between the words she alluded to.

You looked at her, “Of course I'm yours. Just as you are mine, silly.”

She just looked at you, silent as she could be.

“Give me a hit,” one hand reached out, reaching for what you held. To disconnect from the world and just feel you.

But, holding the rolled cigarette between the extension of your fingers, Wanda realized that an idea took place behind your empty eyes. You then pressed the commission of your lips around the joint, inhaling that dense smoke to the core of your lungs before, then, reclining your face in front of Wanda, who was still lying down.

The ends of your hair grazed her left nipple as your wet lips met, and you let the smoke trapped in your lungs slip into her open mouth before finally kissing her, her tongue slipping between your teeth, her left fingers tangling in the hair above the nape of your neck, holding you close. When you broke apart, Wanda blinked in ecstasy – your noses were almost touching again.

“You're not going to leave me, are you?” was a sigh against your lips, “You won't abandon me, Y/n.”

“I won't,” you smiled, “Because I love you, Wands. I love you. You know I'll always come when you call.”

And then Wanda looked at you. She looked at you as if it were the first time she had seen you in her life – as if she were discovering you again, understanding you once more, realizing that with you there was no loneliness. In the same way she did every time you surprised her. Wanda understood that as long as she had you, you to indulge her, you to love her, there would be no homesickness left to feel.

“I love you too,” she whispered, “I love you too, Y/n.”

She knew she loved you, in that moment, because she didn't belong in New York or Sokovia - in that moment, she just belonged in your arms.

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patricia-von-arundel · 2 years

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FOR ANYONE IN FLORIDA:

Governor Ronald McDonald McDipshit is trying to require public colleges to hand over info on transgender (or, I assume, otherwise gender-nonconforming) students.

Under both FERPA (Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act) and HIPAA (Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act), this is illegal.

FERPA protects your college records if that college receives federal funding. Under FERPA, even your parents cannot request your grades, your classes, or your medical records in the hands of the college (among other things). Circumstances under which records can be shared without your authorization are limited:

"FERPA generally prohibits disclosure without consent, either internally or externally, of personally identifiable information from education records. But it permits (although it does not require) such disclosure without consent in certain situations. These include:

1. to other school officials, including teachers, within the institution who the college determines have legitimate educational interests;

2. to the parents of a student under age 21 concerning the student's violation of any federal, state, or local law or school policy or rule governing alcohol or drug use or possession; and

3. in connection with a health or safety emergency."

(https://www.cga.ct.gov/2005/rpt/2005-R-0195.htm)

HIPAA applies to all medical records, whether held by a college, a hospital, or a private doctor's office. Again, there are guidelines for exactly when your information can be shared without express, written permission from you:

"The Privacy Rule sets rules and limits on who can look at and receive your health information

To make sure that your health information is protected in a way that does not interfere with your health care, your information can be used and shared:

For your treatment and care coordination

To pay doctors and hospitals for your health care and to help run their businesses

With your family, relatives, friends, or others you identify who are involved with your health care or your health care bills, unless you object

To make sure doctors give good care and nursing homes are clean and safe

To protect the public's health, such as by reporting when the flu is in your area

To make required reports to the police, such as reporting gunshot wounds"

In other words, DeSantis cannot legally access your medical (or other college) records, either through the college itself, a hospital, or an individual.

Both FERPA and HIPAA are federal programs, so they apply no matter where you are in the US and how much DeSantis stomps his little feet and yells. FERPA protects your educational records; HIPAA protects your medical records (specifically, PHI, or Protected Health Information). DeSantis could ask to know how many people at the Mickey Mouse Medical Hospital have received prescriptions for hormones, had top or bottom surgery, etc., but he cannot demand access to your name, SSN, birthdate, specific treatment records, etc., unless you provide written authorization for him to do so. Along the same lines, he could demand the College of Rats in the Kitchen and Gators on the Stage tell him how many students total identify as transgender, nonbinary, genderfluid, gender non-conforming, etc. He could even ask for the average GPA of trans students compared to cis students (as a whole). But he cannot - again - ask for your personal records, or any of the information therein, without your express permission.

Don't panic, okay? I know the federal government isn't always trustworthy, but I've spent enough time dealing with both FERPA and HIPAA to know that they take this stuff very seriously. If you need to contact someone about a violation of either -

FERPA (college records) is under the US Department of Education, and you can find more info on reporting a potential violation here:

HIPAA (which covers all your medical info) is under the US Health and Human Services' Office of Civil Rights, and you can find more info on reporting a violation here:

At the moment, DeSantis is requesting only information not covered by either HIPAA or FERPA: "Republican Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis is asking state universities for the number and ages of their students who sought gender dysphoria treatment, including sex reassignment surgery and hormone prescriptions, according to a survey released Wednesday."

Source:

If you are concerned that your records either as a student or a patient may have been shared without your permission, either because of this or in any other circumstance, you have rights.

Hang in there.

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animementrash · 1 month

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Class 1A as Pro Heroes Headcanons

Characters: All class 1A male students (After time skip)

Tags: characters headcanons, manga spoilers, some may be ooc?, not proofread.

A/N: Heya! It's been a while since I posted, many things happened in my life. I traveled to Japan, got a promotion at work, celebrated my birthday... but I'm back! This is the first post non AOT related hehe, this is a multifandom account but was usually populated with AOT stuff and while I plan on uploading some more AOT stuff today it's turn for MHA. Hope you enjoy, thanks for reading!

Izuku Midoriya

Is part of the team of judges who set the current top hero’s billboard.

Has a weekly column in one of Japan’s most important newspaper where he analyzes heroe’s techniques and moves. Most heroes wait expectantly each week for his column to be released.

Attends many charity events and is the top #1 fundraiser for children causes.

Has been the special guest for at least 30 shows, he’s still a nervous mess in all of them.

Is the only person who has a major fanbase without being an active top hero.

Received permission to write a biography for All Might.

Shoto Todoroki

Is top #3 in the charts.

Became ambassor for UNICEF.

Is also an active member of the “Big brother, Big sister” program.

Took over Endeavor’s agency and turned it into his.

Is one of the most requested heroes for fundraisers or charity events.

Has a lot of modeling requests and has been the face of at least 15 brands since he became a top hero.

Katsuki Bakugo

Is top #2 in the charts but constantly switches place with Shoto. (The top #1 Hero is Mirio)

Was the first one from class 1A to make it to the top 5 heroes.

His merchandise is the best seller among all current heroes, anything that has his face in it sells in less than 1 hour.

Just like Shoto, received many modeling requests but refused almost all of them.

Has the largest fandom in Japan, is forced by his PR team to attend fan meetings.

Has a scrapbook with all of Izuku’s columns from the newspaper, if he’s mentioned in them he highlights that part and makes notes based on it.

Yuga Aoyama

Isn’t part of the top 30 heroes but works diligently in his community.

His flashy style never left but he’s a bit more mature about it now.

Is co-writing a book with Izuku about the challenges of being born without a quirk in a quirk-ruled world.

Attends many events related to kids without quirks and is genuinely happy to be there.

Tenya Iida

Continued his family’s legacy and took over his older brother agency.

Is top #7 in the charts, for some reason his fanbase consists of salary men and housewives.

Attends more international events than his former classmates.

Held the Olympic torch during its tour in Japan.

Mashirao Ojiro

Is top #18 in the charts.

Works part time as a martial arts trainer, his trainees made it to the Olympics and won silver.

His agency specializes in taijutsu related quirks and is very popular.

Has a nationwide gym franchise with his hero name.

Denki Kaminari

Is top #9 in the charts.

He supplies his agency electricity as well as Jiro’s agency (it’s canon their agencies are next to each other)

His fanbase consists mostly of high school students, he’s very popular with the teens.

Was the first one from class 1A to get official merchandise as a pro hero.

Eijiro Kirishima

Is top #4 in the charts.

Is the face of a very famous protein shake brand.

Was the first from class 1A to appear in a magazine cover as headliner (It was for men’s health magazine).

Usually partners with Ojiro’s and tetsutetsu’s agencies for charity events.

Koji Koda

Isn’t part of the top 30 heroes.

His agency is located in a slightly rural town, this is due to his quirk having way more range when surrounded with wildlife than in the city.

Founded more than 30 animal shelters in his first 5 years as pro hero, he received an award because of this.

Most of his fanbase is elementary school kids and middle school girls.

Rikido Sato

Is top #20 in the charts.

Co-owns a bakery with Momo Yaoyorozu.

Wrote a recipes book and it became best seller in Japan for 4 weeks in a row.

His fanbase consists mostly of housewives.

Has his own line of desserts and chocolates, they’re the best sellers during holidays.

Mezo Shoji

Is top #17 in the charts.

Updated his hero suit and no longer hides his face and scars.

His action figure is one of the best sellers.

Participates with Shoto in a lot of “big brother, big sister” events.

Hanta Sero

Is top #16 in the charts.

His fanbase is the most variated one, has kids, students, professionals and even university students as fans.

Just like Shoji, his action figure is one of the best sellers.

His agency is in the center of Tokyo, has to take advantage of the tall buildings and structures.

His most sold merchandise is a tape dispenser, it’s almost always out of stock.

Fumikage Tokoyami

Is top #12 in the charts.

He and Dark shadow have different fanbases.

Whenever he attends a social event paparazzi turn off their flashes so Dark shadow can be in the picture too.

While Tokoyami’s fanbase consists more of teenagers, Dark shadow’s fanbase is elementary school students and little kids.

Minoru Mineta

Isn’t part of the top 30 heroes.

Changed his creep attitude and apologized with all the girls he knew during that time.

Is the ambassor for an organization dedicated to eradicate harassment.

For some reason most of his collabs with brands have to do something with food.

A well-known tea shop has a bobba tea named after him.

#mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #shoto headcanons #deku headcanons #bakugo headcanons #kirishima headcanon #class 1a #my hero academia #my hero academia headcanons

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goglobalsafe · 3 months

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Using GoGlobalSafe for International Student Insurance

International students need proper insurance. GoGlobalSafe provides complete coverage for international students to give them peace of mind. International student insurance protects against unforeseen medical bills, letting students study without fear. GoGlobalSafe provides students with a worldwide network of healthcare professionals to ensure excellent treatment.

#international student health cover #international student insurance

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 11 months

Note

WIBTA for asking my flatmate to actually go halves in rent + pay on time and / or asking her to help pay utilities?

(Long one sorry)

So I(25 FTM) live in a 2 bedroom flat with my flatmate (>25F) and my cat (11F). I've been living in the flat for around 3 years with different flatmates, and only my name is on the lease. It's always been a 50/50 split for rent even though the rooms are different sizes (mine is the smaller room) which I rationalised for myself as paying a bit more because I have my cat and myself.

However my current flatmate has not been paying half the rent for the year+ she's lived here, which was annoying but I could manage (was only a $30 difference or so), but recently our rent has gone up a lot (like almost $300 a month) which means I've really had to reassess a lot of my spending (hard cause I don't spend a lot outside of absolute necessities). Now this might be assholey but the last time she paid rent (the new amount) it was a very small amount short of half (like less than a dollar) but I already have a lot of issues with the general living situation so kinda want to have the correct amount even if its barely short of 50%.

She often pays rent late (longest was close to 2 weeks, rent is monthly) , which I wouldn't mind if she gave me a heads up or apologised or something but she hasn't at all.

The other issue is that our utility costs are going up. Currently I cover electricity and internet 100% on my own. I was fine covering the internet cause I work from home and previous flatmates didn't, but I did previously go 50/50 with the electricity bill with other flatmates. I probs wouldn't try to push for her to pay 50/50, but maybe if she could pay the difference with the internet (~$10 /month)

Important context (maybe?):

I did not really know my current flatmate before she moved in so we have no established relationship or anything like that

I was desperate to fill the room after my previous flatmate moved for uni, because of this splitting of utilities was not properly discussed before she moved in

I work minimum wage and can't do a lot of hours because of a variety of health stuff / disabilities so my money situation is not great nor stable

She is an international student doing her PhD but money does not seem to be too big an issue for her eg. travelling overseas (not back to her home country), going to music festivals , buying pricey tech for herself, etc.

(again sorry for length, unfortunately I post too much of my cat on my blog to safely pay the cat tax while still being anon sorry)

So, WIBTA for asking my flatmate to actually go halves in rent + pay on time and / or asking her to help pay utilities?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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saturniandevil · 5 months

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May 2024 Important Dates

AKA my notes from The Astrology Podcast's May Forecast.

April recap: on the 8th we had the solar eclipse in Aries that covered much of the United States, during a Mercury retrograde and right before a Mars-Saturn conjunction--all also in Aries! In international news this connects to Iran's retaliation for Israel's strike on its Syrian embassy. A tragic eclipse story is of astrologer Danielle Ayoka, whose death after a mental breakdown was sensationalized by the LA times as part of modern-day Satanic Panic. Our hosts urge the wider astrological community to learn more about how to support others who may be going through a mental health crisis and extend sympathy to the affected families. The inflammatory reporting also connects to a larger story of backlash against astrology as Saturn approaches a conjunction with Neptune in Pisces and the latter leaves the sign.

On April 10th we had an exact Mars-Saturn conjunction in Pisces, which a previous forecast predicted would correspond with issues of contaminated water, maritime warfare, and flooding. On the day of the conjunction, the EPA issued the first national limit for forever chemicals in the water. Saturn signifies both the restrictions and the longevity of the chemicals. There was also torrential flooding in Dubai, Russia, and Kazakhstan.

Jupiter conjoined Uranus in Taurus on April 20th; these planets only align every 14 years. Jupiter-Uranus indicates uprisings and revolutions: the last one corresponded with the Arab Spring, and there was also one in 1968-70 during Vietnam War protests, as well as the French and American revolutions. The student protests at Columbia (and later other universities) calling for divestment and ceasefire in Gaza are a direct connection here (the current encampment was directly inspired by student protestors doing the same thing in 1968 to protest the Vietnam War). These protests began on April 17th and saw a boom in media coverage when the conjunction went exact. The 1969 conjunction was in Libra; in Venus-ruled signs this alignment signals uprisings of "we don't want to be at war!" If these protests did start right at dawn on the 17th, this would have the Jupiter-Uranus conjunction (already exact by degree, but not minute) rising, fitting for an action that has sparked events across the nation.

Another Jupiter-Uranus story includes Congress passing a bill wrapping together military funding for Ukraine, Israel, and Taiwan with a probable TikTok ban. A historical connection here is the passing of the Lend-Lease bill in 1941, a precursor to the US entering WW2. With the US Uranus return coming up (which corresponds to the Civil War and WW2), Chris is nervous. Other conjunction stories include the restoration of net neutrality on April 25th (Taurus ruling basic necessities and resources), the Department of Transportation mandating airlines to give refunds (the Wright Brothers flew under a Jupiter-Uranus conjunction), the FTC put a ban on employer non-compete agreements, and a VW factory in Tennessee successfully unionized as part of UAW--one of the first unionized auto factories in the South! These regulation stories also fit with Saturn bringing rules and regulations.

We're entering the month of May right as Mars enters his domicile Aries, freeing us of the Saturn conjunction, Mercury stationing direct, and Venus in her home sign of Taurus.

May 2nd - Pluto stations Retrograde This occurs at 2 degrees of Aquarius and will see Pluto backtrack into Capricorn for the final time this summer. Retrograde stations intensify the significations of a particular planet in that sign, and this particular one occurs with a square from Venus in Taurus and copresence with the Moon. Pluto in Aquarius developments include developments in AI & technology, and with Venus signifying the arts we can expect AI image/video developments. On a personal level Venus-Pluto can indicate deep, transformative relationships as well as control, manipulation, and power dynamics. Venus in Taurus also activates the Jupiter-Uranus conjunction, especially in the realm of our relationship to the natural world & differentiating what is real from what is fake. On a more positive note, this is a good time to indulge in creative projects, and with a retrograde especially, returning your idea to its original state. Venus-Pluto also relates to issues of women's rights and bodily autonomy (ex. Roe v. Wade).

May 7th - New Moon in Taurus

At 18 degrees of Taurus, the New Moon forms a sextile to Saturn (17♓), and soon approaches the Jupiter-Uranus conjunction (orb 3) just a few degrees away. Jupiter-Uranus themes will become more pronounced collectively and in our personal lives, likely bringing new chapters in the stories discussed in the recap. Also in Taurus is Venus, who's slowing down after her zip through Aries and emphasizes relationships as she brings us back down to earth. Meanwhile, Mars in Aries doesn't make many aspects to other planets this month (even copresent Mercury is moving away from him), making him a bit of a renegade, but also not interfering with other planets. On the 25th Mars will reach the degree of the eclipse (18♈), so those affected by the eclipse, especially night charts, will definitely see extra focus in this part of their lives, while day charts can expect some challenges.

May 12th/13th - Sun conjoins Uranus (not pictured) This Taurus season sees the Jupiter-Uranus conjunction continually activated. Rather than the usual relaxation, we'll hear the bells of rebellion tolling over and over. (Another date to watch is May 18th, when the Sun hits Jupiter.)

May 13th - Mercury enters Taurus He exits his retrograde shadow before this ingress and at the same time Venus sextiles Saturn, clarifying conversations. We'll feel like we're finally done with some hassles. Mercury's ingress into Taurus also focuses the solid majority of our energy in this area, rather than splitting it with Aries. However, he squares Pluto immediately upon entering, so before smooth sailing we'll have to deal with intense focus, digging up the past, and uncovering secrets. This might deepen conversations as Mercury treats the same issues Venus brought up with her square to Pluto earlier this month, but now with more distance and calculation than the tender emotions, or it can amplify those issues with a microphone.

May 14th - Electional chart for the month (not pictured)

May is actually one of the best months for electional astrology all year, free of Mars retrograde and most outer planet tensions that will overshadow the later part of the year. This selection is for about 12:30PM local time. This should give Leo rising, and the Ascendant ruler the Sun is in Taurus within 3 degrees of a conjunction to Jupiter in the 10th house. Venus is also in Taurus, squaring a Leo Moon in the first house. This is a great chart for 10th house matters like career, reputation, and public image, with the Ascendant ruler fully bonified by Jupiter and supported by both benefics. With the first house connection Diana suggests this is also a good time to update your work wardrobe or possibly website in ways that may seem unexpected. It's a good time to do something unique or innovative with Uranus placed so prominently. It's not as good for ninth house matters like foreign travel, as Mars is there in a day chart.

May 18th - Venus conjunct Uranus, Sun conjunct Jupiter Venus conjoins Uranus (23♉) at the same time that the Sun conjoins Jupiter (28♉), bringing us optimism and excitement. It's extremely buoyant and can be disruptive simply by virtue of so much happening at once. It's a Saturday, so a great time to have fun, but be prepared to sleep in late the next day. We can find new relationships that begin quickly but burn out fast too, and run into unexpected good luck.

May 19th/20th - Mars conjoins North Node (not pictured) The next day the Moon enters Libra and opposes this configuration, activating it. Mars takes the place of the Sun in an eclipse, reactivating the stories that these Aries-Libra eclipses have been pinging in our lives. Mars's anger may be in response to people crossing our social boundaries represented by the Moon in Libra. With the Moon bringing in the South Node and Mars's severing associations, we may become aware of things we need to relinquish or cut off. Picking fights can lead to consequences you really don't want.

May 20th - Sun enters Gemini This ingress foreshadows the stellium of planets in Taurus shifting to Gemini.

May 23rd - Full Moon in Sagittarius, Venus conjunct Jupiter, Jupiter sextile Neptune, Venus enters Gemini

This Full Moon is opposite the Venus-Jupiter conjunction (29♉), both of whom sextile Neptune (29♓), and when the Moon exactly opposes the Sun it sextiles Pluto. This is a more positive and optimistic lunation than what we've been seeing so far: the best of the night sect with the best of the day sect. Agreements made during this time will have staying power, and it's a good sign for peace in world events. Neptune connotes idealism in these accords--sometimes you need ungrounded hopes and dreams to go on. Venus-Jupiter conjunctions can also bring too much of a good thing, so be careful not to overindulge. This is also a good time to enjoy material and sensual comforts. It's the perfect day for a picnic!

Venus joins the Sun in Gemini soon after.

May 25th - Jupiter enters Gemini Jupiter spends about a year in a sign, and we'll be shifting from slow, grounded Taurus to mutable, airy Gemini. He'll be trining Pluto in Aquarius while here, accelerating technological advancements like AI and innovations in transportation. Diana uses the image of lots of busy bumblebees trying to collect lots of different information very rapidly. It might be overwhelming, and we could see heightened allergens. This also sets up the next month, where we'll have lots of activity in Gemini...all of which will square Saturn in Pisces! It'll be a lively air and water show with changes in short-term travel. In our personal lives, the combination of Venus & Jupiter will alleviate some of the issues we've been feeling in mutable signs, where places we've felt weighed down and restricted will receive some levity and buoyancy. Whichever house Gemini occupies in your chart will see some smooth sailing for awhile. Use this positive support in Taurus and Gemini to make hay while the sun shines!

May 31st - Mercury conjunct Uranus Mercury is the last planet to ping Jupiter-Uranus conjunction; in general there is a lot of planetary activity in Taurus this month, really activating whichever house that falls in for individuals. Mercury brings a megaphone to the final blast of energy from Taurus. Surprising news, unexpected communications, and conversations with unlikely sources are in order. Uranus-Mercury can open up possibilities that you never could have predicted, and are good for thinking on your feet. Both planets are associated with the nervous system--it's a good day to be cautious with your caffeine consumption.

Whether you need to be active or just rest, take advantage of the stability and help this month!

#astrology #transits #forecast #may 2024 #pluto retrograde #mars in aries #jupiter conjunct uranus #jupiter in taurus #jupiter in gemini #venus in taurus #venus conjunct jupiter #venus conjunct uranus #sun conjunct jupiter #mercury conjunct uranus #venus square pluto #mercury square pluto

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slavic-roots-western-mind · 1 year

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Backpack must-haves: Exam edition

My previous post covered the every day college backpack essentials, but exams usually have their own particular set of must-haves.

The last thing you need is to be frantically throwing random things inside your bag on the morning of the exam, when you could be taking the time to go over the main notes and to gather your thoughs and focus.

1. The pencil case

Depending on the uni, you can bring your bag inside the examroom and put it under your desk, or leave your bag outside and bring just a see-through pencil case into the exam room.

Regardless, bring a clear pencil case, or a plastic bag or a ziplock bag, and be sure to have enough working pens (running out of ink in all pens is a re-occurring nightmare of mine), pencils, an eraser, sharpener, calculator, highlighters.

If in doubt, just ask your tutor few weeks before, or check your uni's exam policy.

2. Wallet.

Student ID, some cash for the bus ride back and a coffee with a quick snack, driver's license.

No need to bring every single piece of documentation, you can save that for later if applying or re-applying for a student visa if you currently are or will be an international student soon e.g. exchange student, applying for grad programs, summer programs etc.

3. Water bottle

Once again, a clear or see-through water bottle is the way to go, especially for winter exams. Maybe it's just me, but the dry winter month's have me coughing like there's no tomorrow. The only way I'm making it through is with throat lozenges, my tea thermos and water.

4. A jacket, hoodie, or something warm

Exam rooms are notoriously cold, so bring some sort of jacket. The last thing you need is to catch a cold and spend the next exam's red-eyed and sniffling.

5. Health and beauty case

This is a must bring regardless of where you go.

Tampons, pads, painkillers, any meds that you may need, deodorant, hand sanitizer, tissues etc.

This may seem like a tad too much, but trust me on this. It's better to be overprepared rather than underprepared.

6. A summary of the most important concepts/theories/formulas etc.

Should you study the morning of your exam, all the way until you enter the exam room or should you just chill and focus on keeping calm? A debated question, so any insights from the poll would be greatly appreciated.

Nonetheless, most people that I know still end up going over the concepts minutes leading up to the exam, or during their commute to uni, so bring a quick guide just in case.

Even if you don't use it, it's still good practise to write your notes out to remember and understand them better.

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starryconscience · 3 months

Text

synopsis ✦ 1943, Japan. Soldier Kiyoomi Sakusa finds himself in the care of a perceptive lady. He waits for his wounds to heal and, slowly, learns to adjust to his new environment. In the meantime, he happens to gain solace in helping the girl handle her small group of students.

word count ✦ 1855

warning ✦ The events described in this content are fictional and created for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to real persons, living or deceased, or actual events is purely coincidental (except for one event). Ctto.

a/n ✦ this is an OC X Canon fiction. you can read it as 'reader' or 'y/n' if you'd like :)

August 6, 1943.

City of Hiroshima, Japan.

Kiyoomi wakes up to the faint sounds of children murmuring, dishes clinking, and birds chirping from the near window. Realizing that he was in an unfamiliar area, he quickly cleared his vision and sat up, only to let out a small groan. He looks down to see his shoulder covered in bandages, a bit of red taints the white cloth. A good few minutes of examining his wound, his eyes wandered around the place.

This wasn't the forest he was scouting in.

He stayed calm and immediately thought it’s best for him to be cautious of his surroundings. What made him break his chain of thoughts was the lightness near his pockets; Where was his gun? Considering the place, it was dangerous if the homeowner were to find it, let alone the children play with it. He internally cursed himself, what an irresponsible action for him to lose such an item that deems their identity.

The man stood up despite his injury, planning to search the house for his belonging. However, his plan was interrupted when a figure loomed at the door.

This person was carrying a bowl of soup and told him it's not ideal for him to be moving around. Kiyoomi sat down, not wanting to argue, as he examined the individual. A light blonde lady with taupe-colored eyes, adored with a face mask, an apron, and a pair of gloves. He was impressed at how careful she was. Although, from his peripheral vision, he finds it bothersome that there were eyes staring at him. It looked like those of children.

The lady in front of him noticed his discontent. She cleared her throat that signals the children to scurry in their own ways. She apologized and Kiyoomi seemed to be unphased by it. She introduced herself as Chizue, and explained why he was there in the first place.

Kiyoomi stayed quiet when Chizue finished. He nodded and glanced up to her, only to catch her staring at him. The man scrunched his face and the girl hurriedly excused her behavior. It was no doubt that she found herself drawn to him; What would a soldier be doing in the forests of Hiroshima? Nevertheless, she urges him to eat, making Kiyoomi skeptically look at her and the soup in hand.

She assured him that it was safe to eat, shared that it was made by one of the children that lives in her home. They were her students, some without parents and sheltered from the on-going war state of Japan. Kiyoomi nods in response, unable to ask for the location of his gun to not ruin her hospitality.

He carefully took the soup from her as the girl sighed in relief. He can clearly tell that she was smiling behind the mask. He finds it rather welcoming even if he was in a stranger’s home. He thanked her and the girl hummed in acknowledgement.

It’s been approximately 4 days since he woke up from his wound.

He successfully got his gun back, but he quickly tucked it under his sheets to refrain anyone from using it. In spite of that, he felt like a piece of wood that’s stocked up in the storage closet. He was growing tired by the endless cycle of waking up, eating, laying down, and doing nothing. If he ever does want to do something, he hurriedly gets pushed away by Chizue because his wound needed to heal. What was he supposed to do when he gets nagged by a girl that cares about his health? Sitting idly in his bed, he finds himself staring at the clock that hangs in his room, counting each tick and assessing his surroundings.

When the clock chimes in the usual time where Chizue serves his food, he waits patiently for her to arrive. Sometimes, she was accompanied by one of her students that wants to interact with him. They usually ask him questions on who he is and what he does, him stating in the most direct way possible. Yet, his directness was soon followed by more questions from the children. He didn’t mind, maybe just a little, but they’re children after all. He tries to be patient as he chugs down his food while simultaneously answering their questions. He could sometimes catch Chizue snorting at some of their questions, earning a quick smile from the man deeming it to be a peculiar sound. Wait, why was he smiling at such little things?

A week passed, and his shoulder was getting better. He’s grown accustomed to the lively household of Chizue.

To thank her for her care, he helps out with some of the household chores. Chizue insists that she and her students could take care of it, but he quickly declines. Besides, he wants to make himself of good use; He’s not someone who backs down a fight easily.

Constant refusal of help from Chizue later turns into a competition on whoever does the chore first. At times, Chizue was first to grab the broom, only for Kiyoomi to grab the sponge and persist to do the dishes. Their fastidious nature made the children lie idly as the chores they were assigned with gets taken by either two. Chizue laughs if her students pointed out their playful demeanor, excusing it as teasing between two friends. Kiyoomi agrees silently, as he knew he shouldn’t get attached to this comfortable atmosphere.

December 17, 1944.

The first snow of Hiroshima falls.

It’s been over a year since Chizue and her students welcomed Kiyoomi to their little family. He was reminded by himself over and over again that he should go back to his job.

How could he choose the kindness and warmth of this home rather than the harsh and cold reality of war?

He can’t help but feel petty by succumbing to the four corners of Chizue’s home. He didn’t belong here, yet, Chizue’s presence brings closeness to him.

At present, he sees himself outside her residence, watching the snow and stars colliding. Next to him was Chizue, in the same state of observing every sparkling piece. The silence between them gives a sense of familiarity, as if he knew her for a long time. The first to break the quietness was Chizue’s sigh, earning a glance from the man. She voices her thoughts; A beautiful night sky enveloping each conversation they shared to each other.

He smiles to himself. Without her, Kiyoomi would never be able to find his peace of mind.

June 24, 1945.

Summer greets Hiroshima.

The sun was brightly shining, making the smiles of Chizue’s students evident as they enjoyed the summer activities prepared by her. Kiyoomi tags along, but interjects whenever things get out of hand. Chizue greatly appreciates his sense of duty. They shared a smile to one another as they proceeded to go their separate ways; Chizue tending the children while Kiyoomi watched from the sidelines.

Hands softly brushing each other, longer eye contacts, and a beating heart whenever he’s around.

She couldn't deny it any longer; she had developed feelings for this soldier. Though, she tried to convince herself otherwise. How could she be certain he felt the same? His tendency to avoid close contact and his seemingly similar interactions with other women in town fed her doubts. She had no place for love in her life, not now. It seemed too late to entertain such thoughts. But despite her attempts to dismiss her feelings, the longing in her heart persisted, leaving her in a state of quiet turmoil.

Oh, how could she dismiss the thought of love in her mind where there was a basket of Nanohana lying on her doorstep? It was summer, a spring-blooming flower in an oddly familiar basket was not in her bucket list. There was no note, no signs of anyone who sent it. She brings the flowers to her home, Kiyoomi noticing the basket she was carrying. She made a fuss on why someone would bring her flowers at this time of year. He let out a similar answer to her complaint. Still, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself when he saw the redness that starts to appear in her ears.

Every week, flowers appeared on her doorstep without fail.

They were all Nanohana, and she struggled to find ways to use them as their numbers grew. She crafted flower crowns for her students, used them for decorations, but still found herself with more Nanohana at her door. Was the sender teasing her? Seeking solace, she turned to Kiyoomi, venting about the surplus of Nanohana once again. He asked if she desired anything different from the sender. Perplexed, she simply agreed, suggesting that instead of Nanohana, something more practical for her students would be appreciated.

The anticipated day of the week arrived, and Chizue silently hoped there would be no flowers. With cautious optimism, she opened the door, relieved to find no Nanohana in sight. Her worries were finally at an end. Later that day, she excitedly shared the news with Kiyoomi, who gave her a teasing congratulations.

Maybe sending flowers weekly wasn’t his best idea.

August 6, 1945.

It has been two years since Kiyoomi stayed with Chizue. There was a lingering ache in his heart on his attempts to show his feelings. All of them resulted in vain, with Chizue brushing it off as a friendly gesture that made him scrunch his face in frustration.

He hated how dense she was. In return, he still liked how prudent she was just as the first day they met each other.

The two were surrounded by a serene field of yellow flowers, bathed in the warm sunlight. Chizue gazes fondly at the blossoms, recalling the days when mysterious baskets of yellow Nanohana appeared at her door. Kiyoomi smiles bashfully at her affection for the flowers.

As they sit together, the moment feels charged with unspoken words. Finally, Kiyoomi gathers his courage. He calls Chizue’s name, capturing her attention. A tense silence ensues as he grapples with his feelings. After a few moments, he resolves to speak up. It’s now or never.

"The basket of Nanohana... It was from me. I sent it."

Chizue bursts into laughter, initially taking it as a playful jest from Kiyoomi. Her laughter subsides as she notices his earnest expression.

"I guess it was my clumsy way of expressing myself. I'm not good with words, so I hoped you'd understand through actions. Clearly, I didn't do a very good job."

Chizue's expression shifts to surprise, then softens into a smile. She had suspected it was Kiyoomi, but hearing him confirm it meant everything to her.

Taking a deep breath, she smiles warmly and replies,

"It's you. It's always been you."

Tears well up in her eyes as she laughs tenderly. They share their feelings openly, stumbling over confessions and earning laughter through their nerves. At that moment, there is nothing more they could wish for.

They held each other's hands, in their final morning alive.

At 8:15 in the morning, the atomic bomb devastates Hiroshima.

a/n ✦ it's my first time of actually finishing my writing and posting it somewhere online. events of the past rots in my brain lmao. i'm open to any feedback!

#oc x canon #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x female reader #hq fanfic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu au #haikyuu fic #hq sakusa #hq x reader

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onetruesirius · 11 months

Text

I sit here and I watch the news about Gaza

and I think

shit, I need to get back to work;

it's toxic to just fixate on the news,

It's bad for my mental health.

I can't be irresponsible to myself

I have class in the morning.

I have exams next week...

But how can I turn a blind eye?

How can I not care

that nine thousand Gazan children are dead,

that the Israeli Occupation Force has dropped the equivalent of an atomic bomb

on a space about the size of the New York City metropolis,

that an episcopal church was bombed—

it was one of the oldest churches in the world,

that one of the oldest mosques in the region was destroyed

that hospitals are being shelled with doctors and patients still within,

that men are carrying pieces of their dead children out of houses in plastic grocery bags because there's no other way to carry that many pieces in their hands,

that over a million people were told to evacuate on bombed-out roads,

and then they were shot and bombed with USAmerican white phosphorus when trying to leave?

Do you know what white phosphorus does to a human body?????

Please google it.

And if you "don't want to see something like that"

Oh,

I want you to google it even more now.

just to be appropriately horrified.

How can I not see that the Israeli government doesn't see Palestinian people [THEIR people if we're going by statehood metrics, who were on that land when the BRITISH GOVERNMENT decided to make the state] as human beings,

that they'd do anything to slaughter Palestinians under the cover of radio silence so the world turns away?

And that men wail from minarets—

not to call their flock to holy prayer but

to speak messages of hope that god will save them,

to attempt to reach the outside world, when the information reaches the people at the edge of the strip, who have international SIM cards and can get the word out,

and to deliver news of where the bombs fall so that paramedics can know where to dig more bodies out—the bodies that aren't a bloody slurry sprayed across the streets and walls, anyways.

And that journalists are being executed en masse to hide the story.

And that men are being stripped naken and forced to sit on the ground for hours at a time, just like in Nazi Germany.

And I can't forget the fact that the United States, MY NATION, voted AGAINST a UN call for a ceasefire...

TWICE.

And that construction companies are already tearing down the old apartments to make room for new living arrangements for the colonisers, before the old buildings even stop burning.

And that settlers are coming into these abandoned homes and looting food and jewelry and desecrating prayer rugs.

And it isn't the fault of Jewish people.

I know that.

Jewish people deserve a place to be safe and free, wherever they are...

But this fact likewise does not require the creation of an ethnostate.

The implication that the only way for Jewish people to be safe is to kill everyone else... is it not in itself antisemitic?

I'm scared for the Palestinian people, and also for my Jewish diaspora friends.

They hate what's going on just as much as I do,

but they're going to get blamed by well-meaning Palestine supporters.

I know they will.

They know they will.

We all know that they will.

Another wave of antisemitism.

Another wave of islamophobia.

Another wave of killings.

Another wave of ethnic cleansing.

On it goes.

A little boy was already killed by his mother's racist landlord in Chicago. Stabbed 26 times.

Three college students were attacked and one was maimed for life.

Attacks against synagogues here in the US have only increased. Two people were shot, allegedly for a Free Palestine...

But we all know that the neonazis have been using this mess to stir the pot against Jewish people and boost their recruitment.

The Palestinian 2023/24 school year has been officially canceled going forward.

Because the enrolled students are dead or missing.

Because they were bombed with American ground-to-ground missiles.

We all know the missiles are American in origin.

Russia has its own genocide to attend to, and China doesn't care enough to give arms to anyone. And we know it's American White Phosphorus.

All the while, war profiteers in my nation get richer and richer,

richer and richer and richer,

and richer and richer and richer and richer and richer and richer—

and they'll laugh like the evil FUCKING pricks that they are

when Gaza gets bombed,

and they'll laugh like the evil FUCKING pricks that they are

when Jewish people get attacked in the streets,

because every act of violence

and every sentiment of hated

fills their pockets with more and more and more US-AMERICAN DOLLARS and GUNS and BOMBINGS and SHOOTINGS and HATRED and GOD BLESS AMERICA—

or something like that

I've signed petitions.

I've signed so many I've lost track of the ones I've signed and the ones I haven't, the ones for other countries that I can repost but can't sign or they might get tossed out.

I've donated money to relief organizations for when the borders re-open, because I'm an optimistic bastard like that.

I've sent emails.

I've sent... so many emails.

I've called all my Representatives in Congress.

I've spread news to as many of my friends as I can without them blocking me.

And still Gaza burns.

And still children are slaughtered, even during the fake ceasefire.

And still I have exams next week.

And still I think about how I really shouldn't fixate on this, because it affects my mood.

and it's been impacting my performance at school.

and it's been undoing months of work I've done with my therapist to try and disconnect from current events.

And still I think about how

"the current events"

rain down like hellfire on innocent mothers of dead children,

and children of dead mothers,

and sisters of dead brothers,

and brothers of dead sisters,

and fathers of dead babies,

and babies of dead fathers,

and teachers of dead students,

and students of dead teachers,

and churches and pastors,

and mosques and imams,

and hospitals and doctors,

and synagogues and rabbis,

and the fucking relief trucks that were filled with food and water.

And here I sit, and I don't know what to do about it????

And I wonder if this is all the point?

To make things worse and worse and worse and worse so that people are so unbearably exhausted from just trying to do the right thing

that they can't take care of themselves?

That they can't achieve upwards mobility?

That they can't make any difference at all for the things that matter most to them?

but I'm just one monkey...

one monkey can't solve systemic problems

that are baked into the roots of our society.

It's a first world problem, for sure. I have the privilege to be able to unplug from this and rest in my bed and not get bombed.

But I just want to make things better, for everyone...

I know that I can't do that.

But I wish I could

Oh, god—

I wish I could.

But I guess I'll just go to sleep.

After all

I have class in the morning.

#palestine #free gaza #free palestine #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #first world problems

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