#but equality is a key in all seriousness

[thehumanwiki]

I wonder what would happen if the Maestro from Doctor Who, who is music incarnate, knew about microtones. Like, if they saw this—

would they explode.

[pawberri]

The key problem with "proship vs anti" discourse is that the most extreme versions of each side, the ones who actually bother to identify with these labels, accepted each others worst takes as arguments they had to debate. "Fiction =/= reality" is, in practice, an absurdly reductionist, anti-intellectual, thought-terminating-cliche that dictates we can learn nothing about a person via art and that their fiction reflects no political or moral messaging worthy of critique. In response to this, the "puriteens" who are too young to possibly hope to articulate their discomfort, to untangle their position from what is often real trauma experienced online, simply argue "yes, fiction influences and reflects reality in a 1 to 1 capacity." They, and people who want to use the groundwork they laid to make bad-faith callouts, make bad arguments about how the action of engaging in problematic fiction is on equal ground to real life abuse, or is a clear indicator of interest in real life abuse. Both of these arguments are terrible, but each side seems to radicalize the other further and further into their own brands of anti-intellectual reactionary belief. "Proshippers" become libertarian absolutists about free speech and view all transgression as righteous and alternative and therefore leftist. They gain a reactionary nostalgia for the past, desiring a time when people didn't seem to care about the implications of art. "Antis" become authoritarian and hypervigilant for signs of moral decay, at their worst, willing to align themselves with government bodies that offer carceral solutions to the debate. They are willing to use harassment as a tool of punishment, which then leads to false accusations and a fear of openness that puts people at risk of being triggered via obfuscation. (That said, proshippers also take part in plenty of harassment.)

I will say that I believe both of these movements are equally sensitive to co-opting by right-wing forces. We see the authoritarian tendencies of anti culture in harassment campaigns and even the way Republican law makers co-opt "grooming." The proship/fic crowd has such extreme nostalgia for the past that I often see people align themselves with the cultures of 4chan or other happily right-wing websites. They so heavily reject the idea that a drawn sexual depiction of a child could reflect any desire that they are disinterested in analyzing what the motivation behind the depiction is. i.e If we track the history of lolicon in Japan we do find that is, yes, countercultural, but that counter culture is right wing, very misogynistic, and defensive of patriarchial Japanese culture as it is and was including its culture around rape and abuse. Plenty of fictional content works as radicalization material, and radicalization material needs to be ambiguous. There is a valid reason to be hesitant to trust people who consume this content, even if I do not believe most of them will ever be dangerous towards children. The mere presence of sexuality is not enough to make a movement left wing. This kind of thing can again be seen in right-wing libertarian movements in the US. (And even leftist movements can be bigoted and even "pro-pedophilia" or otherwise disinterested in social reform around abuse.)

Is all content with elements of age-play this way? No. But to me, that is why kink media deserves to be treated as art and analyzed, critiqued, treated seriously. It doesn't have to do anything to anyone to be worthy of a moral critique. Said moral critique just doesn't warrant harassment and cruelty and reactionary exaggerations of the person consuming said content.

Anyway, what's my point in saying all this? I don't know. I'm just begging you to tag your God damn content with specific tags instead of random and nebulous shit like "dead dove" or "dark content", and also begging you to stop harassing people who do tag their content so I don't have to guess what "dead dove" and "dark content" mean. No one will erase incest kink fics or people who feel sickened by the idea of them off this earth because we aren't god, but we could at least all be responsible about tagging, flagging, and age-gating our stuff.

[justonefeather]

hhhhhhhhhh I'm so drained, having so many emotions so loudly just makes me so tired.. i was able to do a bunch of dishes and take care of the bird's water and stuff, but i know I have other things to do too, and i don't know how much i can actually do.. at a minimum i need to wash the big pot so I can cook in it, and work on my resume so I can apply places hopefully tonight. But even that sounds like so much.. i have no energy but i can't stop for the day, I'm sitting taking a break but like i can't sit forever.. i did so much yesterday too and i still couldn't finish everything between two days.. i want to cry but I'm too tired for even that

[irndad]

Hi hun! I just love love love your pieces <3

As for Carmy prompts - could we have some hurt to comfort when Carmen doesn't show up for a date? It's ok if you dont wanna do it or i requested incorrectly, but if you do, i cant wait to read!!!!! Thank you so much mwah mwah mwah

I’m not thaaaaaat sure how I feel about this and it’s so long but your request was so sweet I had to!!! Ily <3333

wc:1.1k

There’s so fucking much in his ear. Fak’s screaming whatever bullshit he’s sure will help absolutely nothing, Richie’s harassing Sydney and Tina’s trying to keep them all in line and will of that goddamn chaos, he shouldn’t be able to make out anything.

Prepping this whole thing, the opening, Richie biting his head off for fucking sending him to the best kitchen in the city- it’s all a bit fucking much.

He barely hears the door open (she has a key, because of course she does) and he doesn’t even look over his shoulder as he calls out her name.

“Hey, baby,” he yells back towards the entrance. It feels good, chopping the vegetables. It’s actually one of her favorite dishes that he’s making, and something inside him preens that he gets to feed her tonight. Everything feels illustrious under her gaze. He remembers the first time he’d cooked for her, how her watchful gaze felt a bit like sunlight; equal parts burning and doused in light.

She’d said she liked his hands, then. Said he looked pretty with a knife and a cutting board. “Will you try this sauce for me?”

He hears her heels click, the soft thud of her purse landing on the couch. It’s a slow saunter she does to him, but he’s razor focused- what does it need, garlic? Oregano?

It only breaks when he sees her. And she looks gorgeous. Wearing a black dress with a cowl neck, shimmery eyeshadow that catches and dances in the low light of the kitchen, a crimson lipstick neatly applied to her beautiful pout.

She smells like vanilla, and Carmen has the privilege of knowing what real, rich, Madagascar vanilla smells like. He’d loved the scent so much that he’d bought her a perfume made from it, and there’s a warmth blooming in his chest when he realizes that she’s wearing it.

Wordlessly, she opens her mouth and leans forward to try the sauce covered wooden spoon he’d raised to her lips.

Even when she’s in front of him, he can’t believe she’s someone he knows. That she’s wasting her time with someone like him.

“Jesus Christ you look beautiful,” he says without thinking, and he kisses her quick. It’s true. She’s a vision, plucked out of an old movie shot on grainy film, warm to the touch film.

He abandons the spoon and the sauce without much fanfare, a rough, calloused hand meeting her soft warm cheek.

“Thanks, Carmen.” she says, but her doe-eyes deny the joy she typically exudes in his presence. It’s his proudest achievement, how she glows around him. She’s tight lipped, smile betraying her words.

“What’s wrong? Is it the sauce? I know it’s a mess in here, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d see it-“

“No! No, seriously, it’s okay, honey.” She tries to insist but it really doesn’t work. He moves the pot off the burner and twists himself completely to face her, placing a gentle hand at the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. He tries not to let it sting, how she stiffens for a moment before softening again.

“What happened?” He asks again.

“It’s the first,” she says, a rueful grin on her pretty lips, before gesturing down at her outfit, and oh.

The dinner. The fucking dinner that he’d promised her. His sweet girl, who waited up every night, who dutifully tasted every recipe, who soothed him on nights where nightmares stole his sleep-

“Fuck,” he says, more to himself than her, but god, he can’t stop looking at her, “Fuck! God, I’m such an asshole, I’m so sorry-“ he insists, suddenly so grateful that she’s letting him touch her, even more aware of every point of contact with the sudden fear that it could escape in a moment’s notice.

“Y’know, Carm, if you could’ve just told me that would’ve been one thing? But I left the reservation, and this was the one night we both had off!”

“I know, baby, fuck, I forgot-“

She backs away from him, and there’s a sick feeling in his stomach. Sitting on the chair he keeps by the stove (he put it there for her, because she loved watching him) she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“It’s just not fair, Carm. To either of us. If you don’t have time for this-“

“I have time for this! I have time. Don’t say things like that.”

“Carmy, I’m not trying to hurt you. You know that’s the last thing I want.”

And it is. It’s the last thing she wants, and Carmen fucking knows it. Knows that three months in he’s supposed to have brought her flowers and taken her out and done more than cook for her and spend hours in his shitty apartment, and lately she’s been asking if he has time for being in a relationship.

And maybe he doesn’t, but fuck it if he doesn’t feel like he can breathe around her. This was the point of the dinner- take her out, be a boyfriend. Have her wait a little while on him. Show her he’s worth it.

Instead he fucking missed it, stayed home and made sauce no one would even eat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing her hand and lacing it through his own. It always shocks him, how it fits his own. “Okay? I’m so, so fuckin’ sorry. Tell me what I can do. Tell me, cos I’ll do just about fuckin’ anything to get you to stop saying shit like that.”

Her voice comes out small.

“I was alone, Carm. They kept trying to take my order and you weren’t there, and eventually I had to leave.“

She looks up at him, eyes sparkling and kind and Carmen. She looks beautiful, and if he wasn’t with her, he’d see her in the street and hate whatever fuck was lucky enough to be who she got dressed up for.

“I am so, so sorry. It’s just with the stove, and Fak, and Richie fucking calling me to bitch me out every thirty seconds,” she reaches her delicate fingers to brush his cheek with concern, “I should’ve remembered. It’s just about the only thing this week worth remembering. And you look…stunning, I should’ve been there. I should’ve. Please.”

Her expression softens and he loves the sight of her, warm and kind and lovely in both form and temperance. She’s so patient with him, responds with kindness- a gift.

She brushes her soft lips on his cheek and he tries to savor the sensation, note how warm and wonderful it is to have her form pressed against his, how her arms knot themselves around his waist.

“I know you’re stressed, babe,” she murmurs against his cheek, eyes shut, “tell you what. Why don’t you make me something better than what that place could’ve, huh?”

After he kisses her for so long that excess is no longer the right terminology, he makes her the best pasta she’s ever had in her goddamn life.

It’s better this way, anyway. She’s gorgeous in a way that’s just his to look at tonight.

[kbwrites]

Collision Course

synopsis: Ryomen Sukuna, heavyweight champion and your ex-boyfriend gets a wake up call when he is injured for the first time during a fight.

⚝content: boxer!Sukuna x f!reader, reader is a physiotherapist, slight angst, nsfw, choking, Toji beating Sukuna's ass bc I said so

⚝wc: 2.4k

⚝a/n: working on the requests I've gotten in the past month. This one was fun!

Ryomen Sukuna, the heavyweight champion of the world, stood in the center of the ring, his piercing gaze locked onto his opponent his focus was razor-sharp, body coiled like a spring. The crowd’s roar surged around him, but his eyes were fixed on one man—Toji Fushiguro, his gaze dark and unreadable. This wasn’t just a match—it was a reckoning, a confrontation years in the making.

The bell rang, and the arena erupted. Ryomen moved like a predator, his punches fast and lethal. But Toji met every strike with equal force, counters precise, his movements a dance of calculated power. Each round was a brutal display of skill, neither willing to back down, the anticipation in the crowd building with every punch.

Then, in the eighth round, it happened. Sukuna, sensing victory within reach, unleashed a devastating hook aimed at Toji’s jaw. His muscles coiled with the familiar rush of adrenaline, a primal drive to end the fight. But Toji, with an unsettling calm, sidestepped the attack with almost supernatural precision. In that split second of realization, Sukuna's heart pounded, the moment feeling like slow motion. With a swift sidestep, he avoided the blow and delivered a crushing punch directly to Sukuna’s shoulder. The sound of the impact was sickening—a sharp crack that seemed to echo through the arena. Pain flared instantly, his arm falling limp as he staggered back, the once unbreakable champion now vulnerable.

The crowd’s roar turned into a collective gasp. He gritted his teeth, the realization dawning that he was injured—seriously so.

The world spun, a dizzying blur of lights and colors. The roar of the crowd was a distant murmur. His mind struggled to make sense of the situation, the sharp sting of defeat sinking in as he replayed the moment Toji’s punch landed.  That scar-faced grin, a haunting image in the corner of his mind, lingered as he was wheeled through the narrow corridor.

This wasn’t happening. It had to be some nightmare. But it wasn’t… Ryomen, the undefeated champion–had been defeated.

The doors to the medical suite swing open, and your eyes see something they'd never dreamed of. Ryomen Sukuna on a stretcher, holding his shoulder as his face contorted in pain. You walked over to him, helping the medic team move him to a table.

As Sukuna settled onto the table, his gaze met yours you glanced at him with a wry smile and said, “I thought you said you don’t lose.”

He grins through the pain, his normal confidence shining through. 

“You know I can���t stay away from you for too long.”

𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ

It was never going to work. That’s what you told yourself. He was in a different world from you completely, one full of glitz and glory, a realm of raw power and relentless ambition. You had tried to convince yourself that the divide was too vast, that his world and yours were irreconcilable. But every night, as you laid next to him, it all seemed to blur, if only for a moment.

The clock ticked past midnight, you sat on the counter of your apartment’s kitchen. Eating the cup noodles as you swung your feet lazily. He had sworn he would be home early, that tonight would be different, that he’d finally make time for you amidst his whirlwind schedule.

And yet here you were. Waiting for him. Again.

The sudden clatter of keys and the turn of the doorknob sliced through the silence of your apartment. You rolled your eyes, finishing the last of your ramen with a resigned sigh.

The door swung open, and Sukuna walked in, his presence as commanding as ever. Without missing a beat, he headed straight for the kitchen where you sat. His gaze softened slightly as he approached, a smirk playing on his lips. Without hesitation, he reached for you, his lips descending toward yours in a kiss that was supposed to bridge the gap his absence had created. But as his lips neared, you caught the sharp tang of alcohol on his breath.

You pulled back just slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing your face. “You’re late,” you said, your tone a mixture of frustration and fatigue.

Ryomen, still maintaining his confident demeanor, shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Had a long night,” he said bluntly, his voice laced with a casual charm that only made your blood boil.

Without a word, you slipped off the counter and turned away, heading towards the living room. The anger you had tried to suppress now surged to the surface, and you could feel your pulse quickening with every step.

The pink-haired boxer followed, his irritation rising as he caught up to you. “What’s the problem now?” he demanded, his voice sharp.

You keep walking, refusing to face him “There’s no problem.”

He stepped in front of you, blocking your path. “Don’t play games with me.” He warns.

You met his gaze, the space between you crackling with tension. “I’m not playing games.” you shot back, your voice tight.

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with anger. “What do you want from me, woman? You think I can just drop everything and cater to your every whim?”

His crimson eyes bore into yours, you felt the beat of your heart in your chest. He closed the gap, your chest pressing against his broad one.

“I’m tired.” You grit your teeth, glaring up at your boyfriend.

“If you’re so tired of this, then why the hell are you still here waiting for me?”

His proximity and the rawness of his gaze made your heart pound even harder. The tension between you was palpable, the argument morphing. Without thinking, you closed the gap between you, your lips crashing into his with a fervor born of frustration and longing.

Sukuna responded with equal passion, his grip on you tightening as he deepened the kiss. The fight in his touch gave way to an urgent need, the argument transforming into a fierce, all-consuming embrace. The anger, the pain, and the desire all melded together, creating a storm of emotion that swept over both of you.

You walk backward to your bed, the back of your knees hitting the bed frame. Ryomen’s larger frame pushed you onto the bed, trapping you between his arms. He was rough in the ring—even rougher in bed.

His lips left your now bruised ones, moving immediately to your neck. His teeth leaving small bites along your pulse point—tongue darting out to soothe the pain. Your soft moans and whimpers echo in his ears. He rolls his hips into yours, his erection grinding against the growing wet spot in your panties.

“F-fuck… Ryo” You breathe as he unclasped your bra. His mouth latches to your nipple, expert tongue swirling around the swollen bud. His eyes flutter shut as he loses himself in your chest.

Rough hands roam your body, touch setting your skin ablaze.

Ryomen tugs your panties to the side, thick finger gathering your slick before plunging into your sopping wet cunt. He pumps in and out, mouth switching to your other nipple as his digits explore your gummy walls.

“S-shitshitshit Ryomennn~” You whine as your back arches into him. He picks up the pace, fingers scissoring inside of you as your hole clenched around him. He releases your nipple, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

“Heh… thought you were tired.” His voice rumbles against your skin. If you weren’t so close to cumming you would’ve cussed his ass out but–

With an expert curl of his finger your vision goes hazy as you cum on his fingers. Not even giving you a minute to recover, he replaces his thick digits with the fat head of his cock.

He slides his throbbing length up and down your folds, tip kissing your clit before pushing into your tight entrance.

“Oh fuucckkk.” You whine as the stretch causes tears to prick your eyes. Ryomen hooks your legs over his broad shoulders. He reaches between your bodies to rub your clit, slow deliberate circles as his thick member is swallowed by your walls. He lets out a low groan as he bottoms out.

“Think you can… keep this fuckin’ pussy from me?” He mumbles slamming into your cunt, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he moves your legs from his shoulders to your ears. He loved folding you in half. You loved it too.

His pace was relentless, you felt every vein of his cock brush against your gummy walls. He always made you feel deliciously full. His large hand wraps around your neck, pressing gently on the sides.

“C-close Ryo–” You choke out.

“Oh yeah?” He smirks, feeling you flutter around him. He fucks you through your orgasm, reveling in the way your body writhed and shook underneath him. He felt the tightening in his balls as he pulled out. He removed his hand from your neck, wrapping it tightly around his cock.

He pumped a few times, thick ropes of hot cum decorated your stomach. His now sensitive tip smearing it around your tummy. Your chest heaves as your try to catch your breath, his crimson eyes raking over you. How delicious you looked out of breath–covered in his seed.

After wiping you down he lays next to you, resting his back against the headboard.  You turned onto your side, gaze tracing the lines of your boyfriend's face. His gaze fixed on you with tired eyes. Even now, in the quiet aftermath, that world tugged at him, pulling him away from you, bit by bit. You could feel it in the way he looked at you, a mix of weariness and resignation as if he knew this moment was fleeting, a brief respite before he had to dive back into the chaos that always seemed to follow him.

You reached out, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. For a brief moment, his gaze softened. His hand covered yours, warm and reassuring.

“You checkin’ my vitals doc?” he teased, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. But even that couldn’t mask the exhaustion in his voice.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You question softly, he would never tell you the truth–you knew this. But all the late nights, the endless grind—it would catch up to him eventually. He didn’t answer, just closed his eyes, his larger hand tightening over yours.

And as if on cue, the buzz of his phone shattered the fragile peace, pulling him away from you once more. He let out a sigh, grabbing the phone from the nightstand.

“I’ve got to go,” he muttered, voice flat as he moved to the edge of the bed.

You blinked, the sudden shift jarring. “What? Why? It’s the middle of the night.”

He sighed, grabbing his jacket. “Uraume needs me to make an appearance. Some sponsor event they couldn’t reschedule.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him to stay, but the words caught in your throat, weighed down by exhaustion. You were so tired—tired of fighting, tired of being second to everything else in his life. Instead, you just watched him get dressed, the silence between you stretching thin.

“Go, do what you have to do.” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. ”

Sukuna paused, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual, as if he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. Instead, he nodded and turned away, leaving you alone with the cold emptiness that settled in his absence.

It was never going to work. That’s what you kept telling yourself.

𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ

The memory faded, leaving behind a dull ache in your chest. You blinked, pulling yourself back to the present. Ryomen looked up at you from the examination table, his crimson eyes still holding that same piercing intensity.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you focused on his injury, your hands moving with practiced precision. Despite your efforts to detach, to keep things strictly professional, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze followed your every move or the subtle tension in his jaw.

“You must be loving this, huh? Seeing me like this.” His tone was harsh, almost daring you to pity him, his arrogance a brittle shield against the humiliation gnawing at him.

“I know you better than those people out there–you’re gonna be fine.” You say calmly.

He chuckles dryly. “You might be the only one that thinks that right now.”

A moment of quiet settled over the medical suite as you continued your examination. The soft hum of the lights overhead and the occasional shuffle of your movements were the only sounds breaking the tense silence. You carefully touched his shoulder, feeling for the extent of the damage.

Sukuna winced, his face momentarily contorting with the sharp flare of pain. His breathing grew shallow, and he looked away, clearly trying to mask his discomfort behind a mask of indifference.

“You've torn your rotator cuff,” you said, your voice steady despite the weight of the news. You could see the frustration in his eyes, the pride that struggled to keep his embarrassment at bay.

“Rotator cuff?” he repeated, his tone a mix of irritation and disbelief.

“Yes,” you confirmed, examining the area with a practiced touch. “It’s a significant injury, but with proper treatment and rehabilitation, you’ll recover. It’ll take some time and effort, but it’s manageable.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, and he clenched his teeth, trying to hide the strain. “Great,” he muttered, his voice taut with frustration. “Just what I needed.”

He looked at you with a mixture of exasperation and reluctant admiration.

“I was… an ass to you.” He mumbles.

“You were.” your tone matter-of-fact.

“Alright...” He warned, taking a deep breath.

“If I’m going to be stuck with this damn injury, I might as well have someone who knows what they’re doing handling it.”

He gave you a sideways glance, a mix of challenge and an unspoken request in his eyes. Despite his bravado, there was a trace of acknowledgment in his words, an unspoken plea for your help.

As you nodded, accepting his challenge with a wry smile, a familiar ache settled in your chest. You knew, deep down, that no matter how many times you tried to distance yourself, you could never really be done with him. The stubborn part of you that cared too much, that felt the pull of his presence like gravity, couldn’t quite let go.

“Let’s get you back in the ring.”

[yamsfrecklvs]

tits, ass or thighs?

ft. kuroo, iwaizumi, oikawa, bokuto, tsukishima, atsumu, osamu

warnings: i mean... the title speaks for itself i think! implied fem reader ; also not proofread

MDNI!!!

☆ kuroo : tetsuro is a simple man. there isn't a single thing he doesn't like about you. but the man absolutely adores thighs. put on a pair of shorts or a miniskirt and he'll fall to his knees. to be fair, he's a man of taste, so not only does he love thighs, but he's also a sucker for ass. can and will smack it whenever he can, not even in a strictly sexual way, but simply because he likes having his hands on you. ass and thighs will absolutely be used as a pillow, there's no debating it. he will also not so sneakily squeeze your thigh while sitting down or grip it while he’s driving and you’re in the passenger seat. hell, he’d die between your thighs if he could, because let me remind you, this man is an EATER. (just leaving this here)

☆ iwaizumi : i mean, have you seen him? ass. he physically cannot function if he sees you in tight skirts or pants and his hand can always be found in your back pocket if you two are walking together. definitely lightly smacks your butt to celebrate or tell you that you're doing a good job (throwback to him smacking makki's ass bc he scored a point). loves loves looooves to leave marks on it - fingerprints, bites, hickeys, you name it - and he will shamelessly stare at it in public.

☆ oikawa : i think we can all agree on the fact that this man loves tits. seriously. doesn't care if they're big or small, he just loves your chest. he will absolutely use them as pillows and/or slip his hands under your shirt while you're cuddling. loves to see you walk around the house without your bra on, bonus points if you're wearing his clothes. and if there's one thing that makes his knees weak it's seeing tan lines on your chest - one look and he's over the moon. he also probably has a thing for cute lingerie, especially cute bras - or rather, he has a thing for taking said cute lingerie off of you.

☆ bokuto : don't ask him. he genuinely cannot choose, it's physically impossible for him, especially because he's got his hands all over you 99% of the time. probably has a slight preference for ass but he doesn't even realize it. you definitely have his handprints all over your ass because he cannot for the love of god control his strength but he also profusely says sorry if he ever hurts you. either way, wear anything remotely tight or revealing and he's gonna lose his mind.

☆ tsukishima : he will never ever admit it, but tits. he says he doesn’t care and claims to love every part of you equally, but you’ll definitely catch him lacking if you wear anything low cut. of course, he isn’t the type to shamelessly stare at your boobs, we’re talking about kei after all, but you know him, and you can tell his eyes linger on your chest just a little more than usual. and also, they’re the first place he reaches for when cuddling gets a little spicier. probably likes leaving marks on your tits because they’re not as visible as your neck and because he swears that ‘hickeys are stupid’. he still does it nonetheless. again, doesn’t mind if they’re big or small. he just loves them.

☆ atsumu : take a good look at him and tell me this man isn’t a certified boob lover. seriously. bonus points if you have your nips pierced. he just loves boobs. back hug? his hands are finding their way on your chest. cuddling? his face is pressed between your tits. doesn’t give a fuck about looking like an idiot while gawking at them, either. he’s just completely enamoured with them, probably loves to suck on them too. also, i feel like he has a thing for girls with tiny waists, don’t know why. he too loves to spoil you with pretty lingerie and definitely loses his mind whenever he sees a bra strap peeking out of any of your shirts.

☆ osamu : now, hear me out. osamu miya loves to cook. he also loves a woman who EATS. for this reason i’m a firm believer of osamu being a man who loves thighs. loves having his face between them, using them as a pillow, biting into them. he will go insane for thigh highs and absolutely adores when they get bigger as you sit down. there’s nothing this man appreciates more than a pair of pretty legs showing up under a short skirt. he would gladly be crushed by your thighs, but he doesn’t dismiss ass either. generally, i think he likes everything - but thighs, they’re his utter weakness. expect many, many hickeys and marks all over them. and, just like kuroo, i just have the slightest feeling that osamu is a munch - make him suffocate and he’ll die happy.

@yamsfrecklvs

[pinkchrissysposts]

🐳Stay consistent and persist don't let the 3D fool you🐳

Why some of us "fail" to manifest is because we are slave to the 3d and negative thoughts no seriously. And waiting for external validation is useless because it's giving the answer you want so why keep asking the 3d if you can manifest a car,money again and again,when we already have it in our true reality that is the 4d. We should not get overpowered by this 3d holographic circumstances and this illusionary thoughts which YOU chose to dwell on.

From my own experience law of assumption is a journey where YOU have to satisfy yourSELF not the 3d, everyone is different,everyone have their own personal favourite way to manifest like states,affirming,visualization or whatever you prefer. In my opinion you can start of with affirming,don't directly try to use states(it's not a method) if you are finding it difficult to embody state,just affirm,persist and saturate consistently,NOT to get in 3D but to satisfy your SELF internally.

Be consistent,discipline and persistent these are the KEY to satisfy your SELF, no matter what method you choose,embodying state or affirming,don't let the negative thoughts lead you back to your old self,be strict like an asian parents,and just how they bring you fruit after that yelling at you to study,your desires will also come in your 3d without causing any problem. Be your own parent during your manifestation journey,treat your negative thoughts like those bad influence kids, and when you start looking for movements and wondering how your desires gonna show up treat them like the judgement strangers who question you for everything you do or you have. Don't procrastinate that is when we usually start get doubts just because we aren't doing anything,activate the asian parent in you and scold yourself,and start to affirm and remind yourself who the boss is.

Also DONOT label any of your desires a "big" or "small" desire,they are all same,under you,YOU are on the pedestal not the desire,if you didn't thought about your desire they wouldn't even exist. So why even worry about them. Manifesting seeing a "butterfly" or seeing a "car" with certain "colour" is equivalent to manifest $2000 dollar out of nowhere,dating your celeb sp,having that hourglass body and waking up in your dream life.

When it comes to how you manifest it doesn't matter whether you affirm or embody state or being,SATS,what matter is your consistency because once you continue to persist you'll notice a shift also don't feel bad if you're someone who affirm for hours to saturate your mind but remember it's to remind yourself that you already have your desire in 4D, if you still feel like affirm and persistent will not take you anywhere go see Taylor Tookes insta and twitter post she is a living proof,most manifestation account from where I see success stories are usually affirm and persist girlies and boys like Taylor, Viper and BigDon three of my favourites on Twitter who share they're success story.

Bonus: Do not worry about your self concept,it's good to have one,but as someone who USED to have a good SC yet still couldn't manifest,I guarantee you it's not needed,but you can work on it if you believe it will help you manifest.

My rules are simple💙

☆.BE YOUR OWN DAMN ASIAN PARENT WHEN IT COMES TO MANIFESTING.

☆AFFIRM AND SATURATE TO SATISFY SELF(4D).

☆.YOUR ARE THE ON THE PEDESTAL NOT THE DESIRES.

☆.YOUR THOUGHTS ARE THE BAD INFLUENCE KIDS TRYI G TO GET YOU BACK IN YOUR OLD STATE AND JUDGEMENT STRANGERS MAKING FEEL LIKE YOU'RE DOING WRONG.

☆.MANIFESTING BUTTERFLY=MANIFESTING CELEB SP IS SAME NOTHING IS BIG OR SMALL EVERY DESIRE IS EQUAL.

[wttcsms]

balancing act ; satoru gojo.

pairing satoru gojo x f!reader   word count 3.9k   synopsis gojo bets that he can get you to fall in love in three months, and you bet that he can't go three months with staying committed to one person and not bang them. neither of you plan on losing. content contains modern no curses!au, mentions of sex and vulgar language (but no smut yet), simp gojo <3 author’s notes i plan on wrapping things up quickly this time around, so i have five parts planned for this mini series!

Satoru Gojo is used to a wide array of reactions to any of his antics: awe (the summer analyst, Miwa, always stares at him like he himself is the one who created the stock market), irritation (Nanami is rarely ever in agreement with the comments Gojo leaves on his work), lust (Gojo gives just as much he receives because he’s benevolent like that — his words, of course). 

But he’s not quite used to being laughed at. 

He’s handsome, and he knows it, a deadly combination for any man because Shoko claims that all men are born with an astonishing amount of audacity and it only ever grows as they get older. Satoru brings up the fact that Shoko technically cheated her way through med school, and that any doctor worth her degree wouldn’t get onto patients while lighting up a cigarette of all things, but Shoko is equally stubborn and audacious as any man, and it just makes her a worthy opponent to get into arguments with. 

Being attractive and arrogant isn’t enough to keep him from suffering mild humiliation from time to time, though. The reason why Satoru doesn’t get embarrassed is because the world is unfair, so he happens to be born rich and smart enough and talented enough to just keep on getting richer. Even he is entirely aware of his privilege, but he’s got the type of personality that would be endearing even if he wasn’t hot, so everyone loves him. 

And you don’t hate him, he knows that. He also knows that you don’t love him, which is fine, because it’s not your love, or awe, or irritation, or lust (okay, maybe some lust would be nice) that Satoru wants from you. He just wants you for you, your honesty and whatever scraps of yourself that you toss to him. 

Today’s scraps are your laughter, which rings through the whole entire office, singing above the noisy clacks of keys being smashed by the analysts and the whirring of the printer shooting out hundreds of pages a minute. He feels a warmth spread from his stomach to his chest and maybe it even rises up to his neck, he’s not so sure. He should feel slightly embarrassed, he thinks, to have said something seriously only for you to find comedy in it, but he doesn’t. He just feels pleased with himself for making you laugh, like he’s done something great.

“You are so full of shit, Gojo.” You’re still smiling, even though you’re not bothering to look at him anymore. Your attention is now focused on the report one of the analysts has turned into you, and from the lack of comments you’re leaving, he assumes it’s Megumi’s work. 

“I was being serious, y’know.” Satoru’s more than tall enough to see over the cubicles, especially when he’s standing up, and he leans over it, his head and upper body leaning into your personal desk space. The cubicles don’t do jack shit for privacy, anyway, so he doesn’t feel bad when you complain that he’s invading your privacy. If it was privacy that you craved, you wouldn’t have three monitors raised, each of them displaying a jumble of numbers and words that Satoru doesn’t care about. 

“So was I.” You tell him.

Just thirty minutes ago, you walked into the office with a quad shot espresso, unceremoniously plopped your Longchamp tote onto the floor, and dramatically sighed to get your desk neighbor’s attention. Utahime is always a good sport when it comes to your antics but doesn’t bother extending the same courtesy to Satoru, which he considers to be very unfair considering that he’s technically everyone’s boss. It is his name that’s displayed on the side of the building, and his private equity firm that he’s built up alongside Suguru. 

“What happened this time?” Utahime asks you, like the good sport she is. Satoru, at that time, was pretending not to eavesdrop even though he is, because he’s a nosy bastard. 

“I hate men.” You say, leaning back in your chair. “He left me for someone nice.”

The way you say it lets him — and Utahime, who is actually the person you’re talking to — know that that nice was a direct quote from your ex.

Utahime furrows her brows, looking confused. “But you are nice.” 

Debatable, is what Satoru wants to say, but he’s remaining silent so he can get the full story out of you first.

“No. I’m a workaholic with no personality outside of my fancy finance job.” 

Ouch. 

Satoru doesn’t see an issue with you, though. So what, you’re hardworking and focused? He thinks it’s kinda hot to see someone with so much ambition and discipline. He wouldn’t have hired you if you were anything less. 

“He’s just insecure.” Utahime says, soft voice trying to soothe you, even though Satoru hears the familiar sound of your manicure typing in your login details to your computer. He knows it’s silly to think he can tell the difference between your typing and anyone else’s, and he doesn’t want to think too hard about what that could possibly mean when it comes to defining his feelings for you.

“You said the same thing about my last three exes, and they all said similar things about me.” Satoru can’t see either of you from this angle, but he’s certain that you’re opening up your emails right about now. The conversation is coming to a close, and he needs to start focusing on his own tasks, but then you say something interesting, practically baiting him to come out of his office.

“I’ve decided that from this point forward, I am swearing off men.” 

Utahime laughs. “You can’t just swear off all men because of a few bad ones.”

“Not forever.” You clarify. “Just for the time being. All the men I’ve dealt with  in Tokyo suck.”

On paper, all your exes are fantastic catches. There’s the surgeon (who found you to be too independent), the professor (who thought you were too busy to give him the attention he needed), the hedge fund associate (who thought that he liked smart girls, but apparently, not ones smarter than him), and your newest ex, the investment banker. The irony isn’t lost on anyone — an investment banker criticizing someone for being a workaholic obsessed with the prestige of their finance career? If he was going to scramble for an excuse to want to see other people, he should have chosen some other cliche line instead of using the same one someone else must have said to him. 

“What’s this about men in Tokyo?” Satoru strolls up to the divider between you and Utahime, hands in his pockets, pretending that he hasn’t been listening to the entirety of your conversation from the very beginning.

“That all of them suck.” You say, with that unwavering confidence he likes. 

“I’m a man in Tokyo.” He’s grinning.

“Yeah. I stand by what I said.” You’re not even being courteous enough to look at him, still focused on whatever email is on your screen.

His grin only grows wider.

“Maybe all the men you’ve been with are subpar, but I bet I could change your mind.” 

“Is this even appropriate for work?” Utahime interjects. 

“If it’ll make my dear employee Utahime happy, I can grab someone from HR to supervise this conversation.” Satoru says.

“It’s a trap.” You tell her, lips curling up in a smile that lets him know you’re going to say something very mean and probably true about him. “He’s already broken protocol with everyone who works there.” 

“You’re very disrespectful to your boss. Anyone else would have fired you on the spot.” Satoru only pretends to be wounded by your comments, but everyone knows that he’s as good at taking it as he is at dishing it out. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that Satoru owns this firm because he’s not very good at professionalism himself. 

Utahime mutters something under her breath, deciding not to engage further in whatever it is the two of you are doing.

“So, whaddya say? Wanna test out your ‘all men in Tokyo suck’ theory with me?” He knows this teasing won’t go anywhere, even if he wants it to. You’re good at your job, and you’re good at being a professional. Somehow, he doesn’t think you would consider fucking your boss as something very professional. 

“I would, but I have standards.” 

Satoru wants to make a snide comment about all the guys who have dumped you, but he can’t, because it’s already been established that they’re not just decent by regular standards, but stellar. Rich, successful, well educated men who could probably make you cum. 

Well, Satoru is richer, more successful, and more educated than all of them combined, he thinks. And he would gladly make you cum like crazy, if you let him. 

“C’mon, what’s wrong with me?” 

“Promise I won’t get fired if I’m being honest?” You turn your desk chair, looking up at him with mock doe eyes, and the sight shouldn’t be both endearing and hot to him, but it is. 

“Give me your worst.” He tells you, both of you smiling at the challenge. 

“I don’t give anything of myself to a man who can’t even bother to commit to anyone.” 

Of course, you have a point. Satoru’s not known for dating anyone. He takes women out on extravagant dates, yes, but he doesn’t actually practice the act of dating. 

He doesn’t see a point to it. Most people, save for his friends (a bit weird to consider some of his closest companions are actually his employees), see beyond his shiny veneer, and dating would just complicate things. Dating means someone seeing the duller, not-so-great parts of himself.  

“I could commit if it’s you.” 

The way he says it, without that familiar teasing lilt of his, makes you burst out laughing. He really is trying to commit… to the bit, that is. For a moment, Satoru almost tricks you into thinking he’s serious. 

“You are so full of shit, Gojo.”

You’re focused on your work, not the momentary hurt look that disappears from his face as quickly as it came. 

“Don’t be such a pessimist.” He tells you. “I bet I could make you believe in love again.” 

“Who said I didn’t believe in love?” You frown at that. “I just don’t believe that the men in this city are capable of it.” 

“Bonus season is upon us.” Satoru says, suddenly having a bright idea. He’s so rich that his wealth seems to be an extension of himself, and like all other parts of his body and mind, he uses it to his advantage. 

“Ugh, don’t tell me this conversation is going to affect my bonus check. I really will go to HR, then.” 

“I’ll double your bonus pay if you let me court you for three months.”

“Court me?” You’re laughing at him again. He eats it up, savors it, lets it settle on his tongue and warm his insides. 

“If you’re so convinced I’d be horrible and only prove you right, wouldn’t you jump at the chance to make some easy money?” 

He’s trying to bait you into accepting; you know it. You also know that nothing from Gojo comes easy. He makes it entirely too convenient to forget that he’s razor sharp and cutthroat, the things he needs to be in order to remain on top of the finance scene, but he’s always joking, always teasing, that it feels like he almost doesn’t like being taken seriously. 

“Like I said, I don’t deal with men with commitment issues.”

There was a brief moment in time where you considered going out with Gojo. The two of you have always been rotating in the same social circles, way back to your high school and university days. You don’t shame him for having casual sex because Gojo is genuinely sweet when he wants to be, and you know that everyone he’s ever fucked has done so more than willingly, probably too eagerly. They all get broken up over the fact that Gojo never wants to actually enter into a relationship with them, and it’s probably because they chose not to take him seriously. He has a bad habit of spitting out the truth but presenting it like some sort of joke. A guy shouldn’t take you out to a nice dinner and make you cum twice before even thinking about himself if he doesn’t want a girl to fall in love with him. 

For as long as you’ve known Gojo, he’s never dated once. Never a high school sweetheart or a tumultuous college relationship bound for disappointment and a messy breakup. Even now, he doesn’t follow the example of the other men in positions of power like him, who pursue doe-eyed college girls to shower with affection and trap into manipulative relationships. 

He’s cute and funny and would treat you right, but you can’t deal with the embarrassment of having someone only for one night or two, only to have them do the same thing they did with you, just with someone else. It would feel like a mockery. Your pride doesn’t give you room to give in to Gojo’s charm.

“Is that really your only stipulation?” He shrugs, like this is something insignificant, and you’re being so silly. “I’ll stay committed to you for the entire duration of the bet.” 

You narrow your eyes. “You need to keep your dick wet at all times. I’m pretty sure you die if you don’t get off at least once a day.” 

Utahime coughs, but it sounds too much like a laugh. 

“True, but I bet you’d be great at keeping me alive.” 

Oh, he is definitely getting sent to HR.

“So you want me to believe in love, and you’re convinced you can do this by the time bonus season rolls around, which is only three months.” You’re entering business mode, rearranging the facts and coming up with strategies in your head. Satoru never thought that someone thinking could be so attractive, but here he is, and here you are. 

“I’ll agree to participate, but only if you can handle what I consider to be proper courting.”

“What does that consist of?” He’s got you, hook, line, and sinker. There’s nothing Satoru Gojo cannot accomplish. He’s built up his own wildly successful private equity firm, doubling his family’s fortune. He graduated top of his class. He gives every girl he’s ever been with consecutive, mind blowing orgasms using just his tongue and two fingers. There’s nothing you could possibly say that his natural talents and money can’t handle. 

“No sex. No kissing. No touching.” You lean back in your chair, looking far too smug. 

“Done.” 

He doesn’t even have to think about agreeing, but you falter, just for a second. 

“Really?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“It’s not just you saying no to sex with me, but sex in general.” You pause, trying to spot when the realization of the severity of his situation is. When he doesn’t give you a reaction, just still continuing to tilt his head in mild amusement, you continue. “You can’t flirt or take anyone else on a date, and you definitely can’t fuck them, either.” 

“Yes, I’m aware.” 

“You’re going to regret this.” You huff, certain that Gojo is dumber than you thought. He might think this is all fun and games now, but when he’s pent up and unable to get off, you’re certain you’re going to receive a text from him forfeiting the bet altogether. It shouldn’t bother you that he acts like your addition to the bet is easy, because his failure means your pockets get fatter, but it’s no fun playing games when someone isn’t ready to fully play to win.

“Hmm. We’ll see.” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Make sure to finish going over all the analysts’ slide decks because I’m taking you out tomorrow night.” 

The timer for the bet starts tomorrow, then.

Satoru thinks it’s cute that you thought you had him there, dangling sex like he’s some barbarian who can’t survive without it. Sure, fucking is fun, and sure, you’re definitely denying yourself of some of the greatest experiences you could have had, but he uses his brain more than his dick. 

If any girl is worth going celibate for, it’d be you.

Sitting in his office, he can’t concentrate on his work. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much that you think not having access to your body would be enough to turn him away. Either you really do think he’s a sex addict, or the men you’ve been with aren’t as great as they appear to be. It’s probably a mixture of both, but this conclusion doesn’t make him any happier. 

Neither does having Suguru saunter into his office, without knocking. Just walks in, like he owns the place. And with his fifty-percent ownership of the firm, and his last name right next to Gojo’s on the building, he kind of does.

“HR is going to have a field day with you,” his best friend says in exchange for a greeting. Satoru would have preferred a hello.

“HR is in charge of the payroll that I fund,” is Satoru’s retort. 

“Only you would force an employee into a childish bet instead of asking her out like a normal person.”

“Didn’t force her.” Satoru conveniently doesn’t acknowledge the latter half of his statement.

“Didn’t really give her much choice, either.” Suguru smiles. “Shit, even I’d deal with your ass for two hundred grand more.” 

“Well, unfortunately for you, I’m committed to one woman only.” 

“God help her.” And then, after taking a second to think, Suguru continues. “Actually, if He really cared, He wouldn’t have kept leading her to the same places as you.” 

“Maybe I’m her blessing.” 

No one in the office knows why Suguru is laughing so hard behind Gojo’s closed door.

“There’s no way this is legal,” Utahime tells you, taking a sip out of her iced matcha latte before continuing on her half-lecture/half-rant. “Gojo needs to be behind bars.”

A bit dramatic, all things considered. It’s not like Gojo’s comments even make the list for sleazy things male coworkers have said to you before, and you’re not entirely innocent, either. You like to poke and prod at him because it’s fun, and you know that Gojo can take it. 

Utahime does not respect Gojo, but she does like him enough to tolerate him. They’re like brother and sister, so much so that one time, someone made an offhand comment about how they should just fuck to get rid of their antagonism towards each other, and they both threw up because they were so disgusted. 

“It is a bit inappropriate,” Nanami comments, and you know he’s right because when has Nanami ever been wrong?

Granted, Nanami must have been wrong sometime in his life. He started out with a similar background as everyone else working in the firm. He landed an internship and then a return offer in investment banking, despised it, pursued academia, and was halfway done with a PhD program in economics before he decided to come back and work for Gojo and Geto. He doesn’t tell anyone why he came back, and no one is close enough with him to ask and expect an honest answer.

Nanami having lunch with you is a treat because he prefers avoiding everyone in the office, so it almost feels like you’ve won a coveted prize, one to show off whenever you get back to the office. He likes to keep to himself, but even he’s only human. The interest in your little bet with Gojo is harbored by him, too, same as everyone else who’s heard about it. 

You should feel embarrassed about having your life so publicly known, but finance is a small, incestual pool. Everyone working within it knows each other, has fucked each other, and will continue to exclusively hate and love only each other. It’s a bit cultish, if you think about it, so you try not to focus on the social aspects of the job. 

“It’s not like I’m on his team or anything. I technically only handle deals managed by Geto.” You say this in defense of yourself, as if it changes the morality and ethics of the whole bet. It doesn’t, but the attempt doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Geto and Gojo are essentially two halves of the same whole.” Utahime replies. “Geto just has more public decency training.” 

“You’re telling me that you can see Geto betting someone that he can make her fall in love with him in three months?” 

“No. He’s not as audacious. I like Geto, he’s very cautious.” Nanami looks thoughtful for a second. “He would bet six months, just to be safe.” 

Satoru knows that he’s screwed the moment you’re being introduced as the newest student in his class. School started two weeks ago, so everything’s already been settled. Everything important, that is, so the hottest girl in class has been established, along with who’s going to be relentlessly bullied, and who everyone is going to cheat off of. He has different routes mapped out for getting to class, depending on his mood and who he’s trying to avoid, along with a new secret hiding spot that he’s not going to share with anyone, except for Suguru, and maybe Shoko. 

He likes that he’s already gotten all this shit dealt with so he can spend the rest of the year relaxing, but he’s watching you as you’re standing in front of the class, talking to the teacher and then introducing yourself.

The first thing he notices is that the ugly school uniforms are decidedly not ugly. He comes to this startling conclusion when the boxy, starchy white button-up shirt doesn’t look like cardboard on you, and that the gray wool of your skirt doesn’t wash you out. 

The next thing he notices is that you speak differently than any of the other teenage girls he’s dealt with, save for Utahime and Shoko. Shoko has no issue with speaking her mind, and if Satoru presses enough buttons with enough pressure, he can get Utahime to curse like a sailor. He spaces his aggressions out accordingly, so that way when she does blow up in his face, she does it in the presence of an adult. You introduce yourself confidently; there is nothing shy or meek about you, even though standing in front of a bunch of disinterested teens — your strange new peers for the rest of your high school years — should be anxiety inducing. 

Then, you take the empty seat next to him like it belongs to you, and Satoru is starting to think that maybe it does, that maybe it always has. 

(Well, Suguru is sick today, that’s why the seat was available.)

Anyway, all of his carefully laid out plans are now tossed out the window. He needs to figure out what route you take to get around, and what the rest of your class schedule looks like, and maybe it’s just him, but the former hottest girl in school has now been demoted to second-best. 

He feels a shift in the air, like the universe is trying to signal major change in his life, and rather than run away from it, Satoru settles into his seat, noticing how you’re not even giving him the time of day. 

There’s an unfamiliar feeling rising inside of him; something that says you’re going to constantly knock him off-balance and—

—he kinda likes it.

[natalchartnurtures]

So tell me Taylor, Who am I gonna take to be my ~Lover~?

Want a sneak peak into who YOU'RE gonna take to be your significant-long-term partner?

(pile 1 to 3- left to right)

~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 1:

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home You're my, my, my, my Lover..

Let me say this. You're opening card is the ten of cups, right of the bat.. there's this beautiful love I feel between the two of you. Their presence in your life would either happen as a consequence of you resolving some of your deep subconscious beliefs that kept you limited in terms of love or.. some of you beautiful folks I feel your person will help prove your limiting beliefs around love wrong. This part of your relationship may feel a lil scary and intense but your love for them will end up helping you all the way through.

Oh wow.. I'm getting that you and your person will take on life together, almost with this feeling of being comrades. Especially during your more difficult and uncertain times, your relationship with them will only get stronger. Its giving Bestie energy ✨️ Don't we love that around here? Hehe

They really help you calm down if you're prone to anxiety and/or overthinking. Their energy has a really calming effect on you. Which is probably one of your favorite things about them 😊

I'm getting a strong message of this person being radically different from your previous partners. Maybe you are used to partners who are possessive, lack emotional intelligence and always gave you a reason to worry but I feel your person is a FAR cry from this kinda energy which will surprise you at first I'm ngl 😅 but once you get on board with the newness they bring, you'll have a beautiful relationship with them :')

"Equal give and take" I hear. Aw.

I feel like before you did the inner work with your subconscious mind, you attracted partners that weren't all that healthy but I see that as soon as you put away your wounds and old unhelpful beliefs that you might have picked up from childhood, that may have kept your energy stagnant, to rest they will show up into your life. You won't be able to miss it!

Side note: Ya'll reeeeeally remind me of Zendaya and Tom Holland. I kept having visions of them in my mind while I was channeling for your pile.. Isn't that something 👀

That was your reading, pile 1. Hope you enjoyed it!

Love and light, sweet souls ✨️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

pile 2:

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

Ooh.. I feel your person being highly intelligent and just really smart overall. They seem quite deep to me.. their energy is direct and doesn't really play around. They definitely come off strong to you when you first meet them. They don't seem to enjoy small talk or socializing "just for fun" they seem to take their social life really seriously which is why they might keep to themselves mostly having a very TIGHT group they let themselves mingle with.

I have to say this.. your person has developed an incredible relationship with their mind. A quite healthy one after years of suffering mental agony they have figured out how to master their own mind and as a result they seem quite mature and come off quite stable. They're giving off a strong regal vibe, like, they have a lot of self respect and/or a lot of people seem to respect your person. Your person strikes me like the kind that not everybody necessarily likes but somebody who is respected and revered (in some cases) nonetheless. Wow. Strong vibes. They could be quite an intense person too ngl. They might like to dip their toes into psychology or simply put, the Scorpionic arts or.. just be interested in the occult from time to time 👀

They may not believe in love before they meet you tbh.

They like to believe in what they have evidence for and seems like before meeting you they simply hadn't find evidence of real love.. aw, that's low-key so cute!

Your person comes off quite practical and earthy. They may move in a very strategic way, keeping their plans (and their life in general) mostly to themselves.. which is giving PRIVATE energy. They seem hella private 👀 haha

So you know they're gonna keep your relationship to themselves like it's a scared, precious thing that they gotta safeguard :')

Meeting you will POSITIVELY flip their world upside down. If there's one thing they don't understand, its love and romance. When you walk into their life, being your cute ass self, they won't know what to do with themselves and despite them being successful in their lives prior to meeting you, they'd feel lost with you. You make them feel.. dumb haha. Or they perceive it that way. You might think it to be ridiculously cute lmao.

They're definitely gonna feel A BURNING passion for you right from the get go and that's how they'll know that you're their person!

That was your reading, pile 2. Hope you enjoyed it!

Love and light, sweet souls ✨️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

pile 3:

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue All's well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be over-dramatic and true to my lover

So.. you guy's person and you come together in an interesting way. This is immediately telling me that your person is someone you don't expect to fall in love with. Ya'll might know each other for a while (depending on each person for how long exactly) and the feelings develop overtime. For some this person might reveal their feelings on accident while being drunk one night or something along those lines lmao (very specific, so take that with a grain of salt) lol but yea it's gonna be one of those really cute friends-to-lovers type situation with you and your person or enemies-to-lovers too maybe? 👀 Some KANTHONY vibes coming through #Bridgerton <3

Haha anyway.

You won't foresee a relationship between you and your person before it happens :p

Your person.. seems to have endured a partner before you (or many partners) who didn't really care for them. This may even be a feminine friend/family member as well. They broke your person's heart in a significant way and may even have manipulated you person into staying in the relationship (be it romantic or otherwise) which they eventually stood up to. Seems like a Karmic situation too btw. This Karmic situation, really helped your person grow and evolve into the person who was truly meant for you tho 😊 yay. They've healed from this previous heartbreak and somehow this road of healing brings them to you. Ah.. The reason why this previous relationship is coming into picture is because- they probably meet you while healing from this old situation.. they'd be hard at work trying to resolve the pain the went through and their reward for doing that is.. your love. AW. STOP IT! THAT'S CUTE <3

Ya'll remind me of that song "You Belong With Me" by our queen Taylor Swift. The lyrics are playing through my head now as I channel your person's energy. You could have additional messages in that song 😊

That was your reading, pile 3. Hope you enjoyed it!

Love and light, sweet souls ✨️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

[whirlybirbs]

BEYOND THE VOID — !

1. THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

( MASTERPOST   |   AO3  |    SPOTIFY ) summary: torn from time yet again, it's thursday. six months pass. while you grapple with a newfound uncanny ability to premeditate, loki grapples with the fact he's slipping back into his old self without you. enter brad wolfe. now playing:  a whole lots gonna change by weyes blood word count: 3.3k pairing: loki / f!reader, established in from the void, with love tags: enemies to friends to lovers, soulmates, we-are-in-love-in-the-future but how did that even happen, angst & comfort, redemption arc, lots of time travel, loki season 2 (2020) spoilers a/n: finally, they return in "beyond the void". i can't thank everyone enough for the unending enthusiasm for this little project of mine. it's fitting to have the first chapter release with an eclipse. this is for all of you :) the beautiful gif for this chapter is from this set by @tomshiddles.

"Okay."

"Okay."

There's a long stretch of silence between Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster. 

In the liminal stretch of the apartment building's hall, there's little sound except the loud drone of some horribly, desperately sad song beyond the door of Unit 1131. The two women share a long look with one another, and then Darcy gestures urgently to the door.

"Go ahead," she nudges her colleague. 

"What?" Jane asks in a harsh whisper, "No, you knock." 

"You were the one that said we needed to do an intervention—" Darcy argues back in an equally low tone.

"Oh, so now this is on me?" Jane fires back, "She's our friend—"

"Our friend who has been babbling nonsense about things that have not happened and has been seriously obsessing with that Low-key dude—" Darcy rushes out, bringing her face closer to Jane's, "I don't even know what we're walking into here!"

Jane inhales. She pinches her brow. With a long rub of her face, she exhales. Then, she knocks.

She gives Darcy a 'happy?' look before stepping back and crossing her arms.

Almost immediately, the music stops. There's the sound of a shuffle. A meow. And then, the door opens only wide enough that one exhausted eye can peak through the chained gap.

"Heeeeeeeeeey, girl!" Darcy chides, waggling her hands in the air, "Surprise!"

On the other side of the door, your heart clenches. 

It feels a little bit like a cruel joke, y'know?

All that wishing, begging, clawing to go home and — well... you are. You're home. You've been home. For six months, you've been home in New York City. You're back in that little studio apartment, with Sigurd, with your research, with your doctorate. 

ALL I WANT  TO DO IS  GO HOME.

You try your best to give both Darcy and Jane a smile, but it comes out mangled and exhausted and not quite right. You've been crying. Sort of par for the course these days.

"Oh, uh... Hi guys."

Sigurd meows.

"You got a sec?" Jane asks, raising a folder in her hands, "We, uh... Erik gave us some new anomaly data to look over and we figured... you're the one for the job! Y'know? It's... kinda... your thing... have you been crying?"

Your eyes dart between them both. You wet your lips.

"No. Nooo, no. It's..." your mouth hangs open as you search for a reason, "...Allergies."

There's a beat of embarrassing silence, and then Darcy moves fast as lightning. She wriggles her arm through the gap and unlocks the chain — almost as if this is definitely something she's mastered before — before pushing her way through the doorway of your apartment. Jane follows close behind, and Sigard squawks as he scurries away from underfoot. 

The infiltration is almost immediately regretted because... woah. 

Like, big woah.

Darcy has seen crazy. Like, she has an Uncle on her Dad's side who is totally in on the whole "they're coming for our thoughts" thing and does not leave the house without at least six layers of Great Value tinfoil stuffed under his baseball cap. She knows crazy. She works for Erik Selvig. 

But this?

This is, like, soooooo above her pay grade. 

Jane's jaw is slack. The folder is immediately forgotten on the kitchen island in favor of the wall-to-wall documentation of... whatever the hell this was. 

LOKI MISSING? in the center of it all, with string and equations and runes and news articles and tabloid pages. There's an alarming amount of photos of the God in question pinned up beside ramblings on... Time? And... Quantum mechanics...? 

There's another loooooong stretch of silence. And then, Darcy and Jane both turn slowly to look at you pressed against the door.

You swallow.

Your face is set in horror.

"It's not what it looks like—"

"Uh, dude, it totally is what it looks like—" Darcy starts, stepping closer to the board and pointing a black, manicured finger at a paparazzi photo of Loki being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower, "What's with all the Loki paraphernalia?! Need I post a lil' throwback Thursday to when he tried to kill us all?"

IT'S THURSDAY AGAIN.

You wince. "You wouldn't understand—"

Then, it happens.

The same thing you've experienced dozens upon dozens of times these last six months happens again: A rush of chatter in your mind, a cacophony of whispers that claw at your thoughts and flood them with has-beens and will-be's. A million things all at once, a little bit of everything from all of time, and then— one thread. One thread that stands out against them all. 

"Jane, don't."

Across the room, Jane's fingers pause on the contact number for that pretty S.H.I.E.L.D. agent they've met once or twice now — the one who is managing the Asgardian anomaly cases. With Loki missing, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been desperate to track him down. If this is a lead... If you know where he is...

Jane's face freezes.

Her brows knit.

Your face is split in panic. "I know you think calling Agent Hill is the right thing to do, but—"

"...How did you know I was...?" Jane's voice falls off, her eyes searching your face.

Your voice splinters as you step forward. "If you call Agent Hill, she is going to section our entire division within the week. Thor will be exiled from Earth on conspiracy four days later. We will sit in a cell for five years until they decide we have nothing to do with Loki's disappearance from Asgard."

Darcy's eyes bounce between you and Jane.

"Why are you saying all that like you know it's going to happen?" Jane asks slowly, putting her phone down and closing the gap between you. "Doc, what's going on?"

Your eyes flicker with fear. 

And then exhaustion. The walls you've built to keep this away from the others crumble with one worried look from Darcy, and you crumple against the kitchen counter. 

Your voice is far away.

"It all started that Thursday."

You thought it would be better now that someone knows. 

Truth be told it might be more trouble than it's worth if not to soothe the burden of secrecy — because Darcy keeps treating you like a Magic 8 Ball that, when shaken, is going to spit out readings on the future. 

It isn't that easy. I mean, if it was, you would have definitely done everything in your power to avoid the commute traffic this morning. 

You don't know why it happens. Or how. You have a theory it has something to do with Alioth, but... without any sort of control, there's no way of knowing. All you know is that in those moments, you're presented with a weave of potential sequences. And in those moments, you can choose to act. Or not. 

So far, acting seems to be the best course of action. 

But, yea, no. No fortune-cookie-level stuff. No crystal ball, no tarot cards. Just... weird time-whispers. And a migraine that seems to never go away. And dreams. Really vivid dreams. Dreams that happen? And dreams that don't.

If it was a horoscope sort of thing, maybe you wouldn't have missed your morning bus after waiting in line at that coffee shop three blocks down. They always make your coffee a little too bitter, but the girl behind the counter is an NYU grad student you recognized from a mechanical engineering lecture you sat in on three months ago. You've got a soft spot for her. She's always nice to that guy in the baseball cap who seems unhoused. 

You hope it all works out for her in the end. 

But, Christ this coffee is bitter. 

You buzz into Stark Labs at 9:37 am, and you're setting your stuff down at R&D by 9:43 am. 

Bruce Banner looks up briefly from his work to slide you a welcoming smile. You return it gently as you settle down on your stool and reacclimate yourself to last week's work. 

Mondays, man.

Tony is, as always, later than anyone else. His entrance is followed by the usual boisterous chatter meant as a morale booster. More often than not it's a genius-level comedy routine built on absolutely torturing Dr. Banner. You opt, more often than not, to refuse to enable the bad behavior. 

Any laughter is buried deep into these readings from the Tesseract. 

And so this has been home for the last four months. 

Avengers Tower. R&D. Erik Selvig's Research Team. Theoretical Physics and Quantum Mechanics. Day in, day out.

No TVA, no TemPads, no Sylvie, no Mobius, no Capybaras. 

...No Loki.

But, plenty of whispers. 

It rocks you out of your focus, iced latte halfway to your lips as you're rooted in this little pocket of voices and threads and whisps of time. There's a thousand, then a hundred, then one. 

Your voice is soft.

"Bruce, try the equation again."

From across the room, Tony's voice dies down and Bruce's eyes rise to meet yours. He points to himself, with a questioning raise of the brows.

You nod, then continue to take a sip of your coffee.

And so Bruce does. Wordlessly. And, after a minute, he looks up with a grin.

"So it was right."

"Woulda never known if Iron Dick over here didn't shut up for one second."

Tony's grin is bigger than Bruce's as he meanders over to your lab table and throws an arm around your shoulder. He squeezes you gently. You avoid his eye contact — and in doing so, you miss the momentary grace of concern. 

(Tony has known you for a few months now. He knows you adequately enough to gauge that your triple-shot espresso should have been a sextuple. The bags beneath your eyes are dark. There's an edge there. Something jumpy. You're exhausted.)

"Now, that was mean."

"You're torturing him," you fire back lightly, non-the-wiser to his scrutiny. 

"It's called exposure therapy—" Tony croons, leaning back and thumbing through some of the notes on your desk. You allow it. 

Good. Still sharp. Still better than anyone else at what you do. 

"Exposure to workplace terrorism?" You rib back with one cocked brow, "No offense, Bruce, but I like you better not green. Okay, Tony?"

"None taken!" Dr. Banner calls lightly from across the room. He's working on the second part of that equation now. 

"Sure, sure, alright, Doc," Tony heads your words, raising both hands and stepping back, "I guess someone hates fun."

"Absolutely," you say blankly, chewing your straw; you point at him, "No laughter."

"None," Tony waggles a finger.

"Not a peep," you remark causally as you spin in your stool and snag your pen from the drawer behind you. 

"Any news on the other green guy we hate?" Bruce asks slowly, eyes bouncing between you and Stark. 

Your blood goes a little cold. Just like always. It's hard not to react — especially when that other green guy is all you think about day and night.

WHEN YOU LOSE HIM YOU WILL DO ANYTHING TO GET HIM BACK. 

You wordlessly shake your head. You shrug. Bruce turns to Stark. Tony is hunched over his bench. His words are a bit muffled by the soldering project he's turned his attention to. 

"None. According to Thor he just up and poofed. He was in the middle of atoning before the Buckingham of Asgard and... just warped on out."

So you've heard.

"Hill has been working every lead she can but... the Asgardians are a little touchy-feely on the whole 'earthlings in the domain of the Gods' thing."

"Understandable," you mutter absently.

Tony sits up. "Only time will tell."

...Indeed.

Home.

Unit 1131. 

Lonely.

It wasn't before all this... It was full to the brim with contentment. It was comfort, it was bliss. It was indulgent mornings slept beneath the covers and bright music in the kitchen. Cheap wine from the liquor shop on the corner and homemade meals. It was "I finally made it". 

Now, it's none of that.

Because he's out there — and you know that you don't belong here anymore.

You drop your bag by the door. 

Your boots follow in a trail. 

Sigurd mews expectantly, and you scoop him wordlessly into your arms as you weave through the chaos of papers and books. Your carpet is hidden beneath a layer of obsession masquerading as research.

But, there's one thing that pulls you back in each time.

It's that photo. 

The one Darcy had pointed at earlier.

Loki is being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower. He's looking back at something, and his expression is broken.

It's you.

You know he's pleading with Thor at that moment through a muzzle, desperate to call your name. He's looking at you, being whisked away by S.H.I.E.L.D. as they clear the area, and your voice is silenced by grief. 

You wish you had called out to him then — told him you'd find him again. 

Regret is a hell of a thing.

Grief, too. 

How do you mourn something you never really had? Not here, not in this timeline. 

So you stand there, in the dim lights of your apartment, staring at the photo. And you cry. Just like every night, for the last six months.

In your desk, that magical little daisy made of grass waits.

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

That's the mission.

Mobius M. Mobius thinks it's funny — back then, man if only he would have known that lil' hunch of his was right. Maybe a part of him did. And... Now? Things are different. I mean, everything is different. The TVA is different. 

Loki is different.

They say to be loved is to be changed an' all that. 

The first thing out of Loki's mouth was your name when Mobius finally saw him again — and then a word vomit of panic, induced by the death of He Who Remains and... time-slippage as OB called it. Lotsa moving parts. Lots to keep track of. But, ultimately, they're in a better spot than they were yesterday. 

1.) Loki is no longer falling through the metaphorical cracks in time. 

2.) Mobius did not get toasted alive when standing before The Loom.

3.) He never, ever, ever has to do that again.

And now!

They're in London. 

1977, huh. Zaniac. 

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

...Unless you find him first.

Loki isn't exactly thrilled. 

No, Loki knows better than to get his hopes up. Sylvie isn't here. He already told Mobius that. It's too safe. It's a damned movie premiere. There are no radiation burns, no falling stars, and no rampant gunfire. It's too quiet. 

It's a movie premiere and you're out there, somewhere, alone. You're... you're lost. He can't protect you here. He can't protect anything. You... You're all he has and you're gone. 

And he's here, wasting his damn time. 

Brad Wolfe is about to waste more of his time. 

Loki's gaze is sharp. His strides are long, and as they approach the fray, the God stands amongst the tallest of guests. He cuts a mean profile. It's times like these that Mobius remembers he is a God.

(It's times like these that Mobius can also see the ever-increasing edge in his partner-in-time. It's a little... worrisome. But understandable. I mean, rip a God's soulmate from his hands and see what happens, right?)

"So, he's an actor now?" Loki comments off-handedly, his irritation grating his heartstrings in a way that reminds him of who he was before all this. He hates it. But, he's angry. He will get you back. Without you...

Without you, he doesn't know what he'll do.

"Or he's undercover."

As they weave, Loki's brows knot in distrust. "Looks pretty real to me."

It smells like cigarettes and perfume, and the flashbulbs bite sharply into Loki's peripherals. The raven-haired trickster winces, tucking his hands into his slacks. 

On the red carpet, X-5 moves from interview to interview. Occasionally his laughter rises above the clamor. Each time, Loki's nostrils flare and he rolls his eyes. 

It's when he reaches the end of the line that Mobius moves in. 

"Will there be a Zaniac Two?" 

The look on Brad's face says enough for Mobius to know there's more going on here than just an undercover bit. Brad's laugh, as equally pained as his smile, just cements the fact. 

"Mobius! Woah!" A clap on the shoulder, a big hug. "I used to work with this guy!"

Still a show. Still a weasel trying to survive on his little slice of time. 

"We're going to need to catch up," he begins, backing up slowly, "You know, why don't we chat after the show?"

"How about now, maybe?" Mobius counters just as Brad turns on his heel and comes face to face with Loki. 

The God sneers.

"Woah. Okay, ha, whole gangs here!" he chirps, "Isn't that... great? Wow. I mean, you look — you look great, Loki."

"Why thank you, Brad."

Brad's eyes are manic, and he's searching the crowd quickly — no doubt looking for an exit. Then, they catch something. When Brad claps his hands together and pats them on both Loki and Mobius' shoulders, the two TVA agents pause.

"Everything alright?" Loki asks, head tilting in faux concern.

"Everything is great, actually, because when I was here," he begins, words quick and anxious as he tries to weave some sort of story, "I met a mutual friend!"

"Sylvie?" Mobius asks tightly.

"No, no, uh, better—"

Loki's jaw tightens. Enough of this. "We have some mutual friends back at the TVA who would like a word, as well—"

"Doc!" calls Brad after finally finding her in the sea of people, turning on his heel and calling out over his shoulder, "I got people I need you to meet!"

And just like that, it's like Loki's whole world splits wide open again.

In the fray of photographers and journalists, in the fray of drinks and the haze of smoke, there's you. You're smiling at Brad, positively beaming. You're bright as a star and Gods, there's no one in the room when you step forward with a laugh.

Your dress is green. Your hair is different.

There's a beauty mark on your left cheek. His version of you has a scar that lies there. A mistimed gift from Sylvie before their period on Lamentis. 

"Doc, these are some of my friends from work," Brad points, his hand falling along your waist in a way that makes Loki's blood boil; the ex-TVA Hunter leans close to your cheek, "They're the real deal."

You laugh into your drink, then extend your hand to Mobius. He's trying his best to hide his growing dread. "It's a pleasure."

Mobius takes it and shakes it gently. "And how do you have the pleasure of knowing our starlet, Brad?"

Damn it. He's losing Loki in real time here.

"Doc here did all the practical effects on set for Zaniac," Brad's eyes connect with Loki's — but the God is focused on only you... Her. Until Wolfe digs in with a low murmur meant to do just what it does, "She's a real wiz with her hands."

The God's face snaps. He will kill Brad, he decides. But, then this other-you moves to offer her hand and he can't help but melt. 

His fingers are trembling when he touches her skin. 

"Have we met before?" comes the soft lilt of her voice — this Variant's eyes are brown. They search Loki's face for a shred of recognition but all that's there between the two of them is raw attraction. A law of time and space unhindered by meddling hands. No matter where, no matter when, you will find one another.

Loki's mouth is dry. Your lipstick shade is a dark rogue. He thinks about that kiss back in the Void. He's stuck there, with your hand in his, when Brad bolts.

Her face contorts in confusion. She pulls away. But, Loki lingers. 

He has to... He...

He needs you back. 

Now. 

[crushribbons]

𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖉𝖎𝖊, 𝖕𝖙. 𝖎𝖎𝖎

summary: Sebastian Sallow is an unusually skilled legilimens, it turns out. (series masterlist)

cw: 5.3k words, S M U T (18+ ONLY), implications of dub-con!, on that inception-type shit, penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), sebastian sallow i know the little shit you are, fem/afab reader. requests open

a/n: alexa play it ain't over by the black keys cuz.........xx laney

There was nothing else to be done.

At least, that was what Sebastian told himself. It had reached a point of total hopelessness.

There was nothing else to do except take her to bed.

He was already being driven mad by love and lust in equal measure when he ran into her outside the prefects’ bathroom, and the sight of her exposed, flushed chest when her dressing gown slipped down had sent him over the edge. Barreling along the corridor after she ran away from him with a cry of disgust and frustration, he hoped against all hope that his pajama pants weren’t putting his achingly hard cock on too much of a display. He pressed his towel over his waist and sprinted past the fifth year that was lamely scolding him for not heading back to his dormitory at this hour. 

The library wasn’t open to the general student populous at night, per se, but Sebastian had always found limitations like timetables and hours of operation to be, well, limiting. He cast the charm for disillusionment over himself and strode past the two prefects who were flirting in front of the quietly splashing fountain.

He’d clocked the book that he snuck out of the library with only minutes later’s existence a few months earlier, on another nighttime venture through the Restricted Section. While running his fingertips idly across the spines that made up the Legilimency section, the shining foil on one tome had made his hand freeze. Legilimency and the Dreamer: Infiltrating the Sleeping Mind, for the Beginner. 

When he’d first seen it, a pang of guilt and shame had shot through Sebastian as his mind immediately conjured up one perfect use for the lessons taught in that book. At the time he’d fled the library to stop himself from picking it up, proud of himself for exhibiting self-control and respecting the friend that plagued his own dreams. He had resolved with solid determination to never remove that book from the library or read its contents.

But then she’d gone and worn that dressing gown. 

Faded, old cotton sliding off her perfect, porcelain-smooth shoulders while he gaped at her newly-exposed chest; the encounter hadn’t gone quite as he would have liked, but it was still causing blood to rush southward in his body as he exited the library wing and wove downstairs to the Slytherin dormitories, the book heavy under his arm. He tried to hide the title with his sleeve. The common room was blissfully empty, save for a few stragglers hunched over parchment and scribbling the tips of their quill down to the blunt. He ran up the stairs, pushing the door to his shared bedroom open quietly so as not to disturb anyone that was already asleep. The only sound was soft breathing, sighing, and snores, so he exhaled a small puff of relief and stowed his towel back in his trunk.

Curtains slid shut around his four-poster bed, Sebastian relaxed against his satin pillowcase, propping himself up on his elbows. The dormitory was darker than usual, as the moon that always filtered in through the windows was obscured by clouds tonight, so he muttered, “Lumos!” and opened the book that he’d expressly told himself he should never pick up. It would be wrong. She can’t control what happens in a dream. It’s a violation of trust. I should wait until the perfect moment and just tell her. I should not read this book.

But, there really was nothing else to be done.

Sebastian had to have her, he was sure of it, or he’d die. Until their awkward, semi-nude encounter in the Slytherin corridor, he had never seriously considered anything happening between them. But since then, she’d been behaving strangely around him. Ominis was convinced that she was attracted to Sebastian, but the latter knew better than that. 

“She’s just embarrassed about seeing me in a towel,” he told Ominis as the two brushed their teeth two mornings after the incident. “You should have seen how she laughed at me.”

Ominis leaned over the sink and spat toothpaste into it. “Sure she wasn’t all…flustered about it?”

“Flustered?”

“You know how girls get.”

“You sure you do?”

The next time he saw her, Sebastian was quick to joke about the situation and set everything as usual once more. When she wiggled her eyebrows at him while Amit Thakkar burst into an unnecessarily-lengthy explanation of Gamp’s laws of transfiguration, he thought she seemed grateful for the normalcy between them. Grateful, and beautiful. 

Fuck. It appeared his crush wasn’t going to be tempered by mere humiliation.

And now, the sight of her sweet skin peaking out at him as she blushed so prettily had pushed him to the brink. If he’d been struggling to be near her the past few weeks, it was nothing compared to the raging maelstrom of sexual tension he’d been weathering since passing her in the hall. He was taking her to bed. One way or another. 

Lust flooded his brain as he flipped through the pages of Legilimency and the Dreamer. The book was dry and dull, and Sebastian felt his eyes drifting closed even in the wake of his impure thoughts. History and theory, two of his greatest adversaries, were abundant throughout the first few chapters, and he had almost given up, when his eyes fell upon the title of chapter five: Entering the Sub-conscious.

When planning a sub-conscious infiltration, it is important to understand first whether or not you have been given consent by the sleeping party.

Sebastian swallowed, guilt thick in his throat.

"If you have obtained consent, then you are ready to follow the simple guidelines outlined here to decipher and demystify the nightmares of your clients. First, and most crucially, your subject must be sleeping in a place they find comfortable. This author recommends conducting a legilimency session from the safety of the dreamer’s own bedroom."

He thought of her, sound asleep by now in her dormitory, that same angelic expression she’d had on her face when she slept on his shoulder through an entire Transfiguration class in place. She smiled, just a hint of a smirk, when she slept. 

"Next, physical contact with the dreamer will aid you in your attempt to penetrate their thoughts. The sleeping mind, though at rest, utilizes just as many defensive tactics as the awake. If a session must be conducted remotely, a physical token of the dreamer’s or portrait of them can act as an acceptable substitute. The legilimens may still encounter difficulty, however."

Well, he certainly did not have a portrait of his desired stuffed into his trunk. Sebastian glanced bleakly at the sheets around him, hoping a sock or shoe of hers would appear by magic. No such luck. He almost returned to reading when he remembered what was currently sitting in the drawer of his bed-side table, tucked with care into an empty chocolate frog box. Sticking his head out of the curtains for a moment, he rummaged around in the drawer until he felt the box and pulled it open to reveal the tiny note she’d sent him by owl on the night the entire fiasco began. 

A little birdie told me he liked cherry tart, so I saved him some. I’ll bring it to you in a bit. 

He closed his fist around the parchment and shut himself up in his bed once more. Birdie. He couldn’t bear to hear her call him that anymore. Not when the only way he could fall asleep now was to wrap his hand around his cock and huff her name under his breath. Not when all his dreams lately ended with her weeping out the nickname he used to love as she came undone around him. Not when–He realized as he leaned back over the book that he was panting a little. In anticipation or triumph, he wasn’t sure.

"It is important to note that, just as a legilimens can manipulate the content of the dream they enter, so, too, can they manipulate their own appearance. Consider taking a form or otherwise altering your appearance in a way that will put the sleeping subject at ease. If the sub-conscious detects an unfriendly presence, it may block itself from you entirely. When you are ready to begin your dive into the sub-conscious, situate yourself somewhere comfortable and close your eyes, picturing the face of the dreamer and pointing your wand at them (or at the object you are using in place of physical contact).*"

The asterisk at the end of the sentence drew Sebastian’s eye to the bottom of the page, where the author had left an aside:

"Author’s note: As already discussed at length here, legilimency is a difficult and fickle art for most to grasp. Without a natural proclivity for it, the aspiring legilimens may find themselves frustrated by lack of progress. Use consistent practice to improve your infiltration and dream-deciphering skills."

 He laid down in his bed, pointed his wand at the little scrap of paper pinched in his fingers, and said “Legilimens.” His eyes flew shut of their own accord and the image of her face swam before him, all watercolors and sparkling eyes and sunlight filtered in through stained glass. Even through his intense concentration, Sebastian couldn’t help the small smirk that pursed his lips.

There’s natural proclivity for you, you ancient dust trap.

She was sleeping in her bed, just as he’d pictured, but her expression as he watched her, seemingly through a thick, glass porthole in the ceiling above her, shifted to one of anxiety as she thrashed gently side to side. The sheets were twisting around her limbs and sweat was beginning to glisten on her forehead. He desperately wanted to leap into bed next to her and wake her, smoothing hair off her hot face and kissing her awake from the nightmare. This would have to do, for now. 

He watched her for a few more seconds, then remembered what he was supposed to be doing. The physics of the whole situation threw him off as he tried to get his bearings. He felt like he was moving through cold water trying to reach her, and just as he figured out how to put one foot in front of the other, that foot tripped him up and he fell forward. He clenched his teeth and tried to stick out his arms against the stone floor, but instead, he found himself tumbling head over heels through a massive void. Just as he started to panic about what he’d gotten himself into with this idea, his feet hit solid ground once more. Though not quite stone…and not quite ground.

Sebastian looked at his surroundings. It was some sort of corridor; all he could make out were several dozen imposing doors and the faint swirl of smoke or steam that seemed to enshroud everything. Could this really be her dream? He had been anticipating something light and peaceful, perhaps her sitting in a field surrounded by friendly kneazles (her preferred way to die, she had told him many times). This setting looked far more nightmarish.

“Shit shit shit,” he muttered to himself, his voice reaching his ears, wobbly and distorted, after several seconds. He was still stuck in the thick fog of her subconscious. Regret that he hadn’t read more of the book before attempting this little nighttime visit was clawing at his ankles nervously. What had it said? 

Suddenly, the witch of his wildest dreams dashed right in front of him, ignoring him entirely and sprinting at top speed but pausing briefly at every other door to yank it open, taking note of its contents, and wailing in despair. 

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” she was moaning in terror, her dressing gown flowing behind her as she checked two more doors. The thin linen of her nightgown underneath the robe was sticking to her sweaty torso and showing far too much skin, even through the dark haze of fog obscuring Sebastian’s sight. He watched her mutter “Late! Late! I’m going to be late!” under her breath in a frenzy, and he couldn’t help but chuckle just a little at the sight. What was that Muggle book she’d read to him by the lake that one afternoon? Something about a little white rabbit that was always running late? The comparison was too perfect. 

The white nightgown disappeared around a corner, and Sebastian remembered with a jolt that he was supposed to be following her. He glanced around himself one more time and determined that he needed to be more focused. He pressed his bare feet hard against the ground and his fingertips against the wall, grounding himself, and everything came into much sharper focus as he took a deep breath. Her subconscious let its guard down with noticeable haste, accommodating him with torches along the wall that lit the corridor and banished the fog away. If he hadn’t known better, he could have been in any secret passageway that Hogwarts had to offer.  

He took off down the hall after her, his limbs no longer encumbered by the heaviness that had impeded them before. At the end of the hall before he could turn the corner, he came upon a huge, ornate mirror hung on the wall. It was scratched and spotted with age, but he could very clearly make out his own face, pale and desperate, chest heaving. A line from his guidebook poked at him: “Just as a legilimens can manipulate the content of the dream they enter, so, too, can they manipulate their own appearance.”

Put her at ease, put her mind at ease, he thought, What would she li– 

Then he remembered, with almost a shout of triumph, her expression when he’d come back to school after the summer holidays at the beginning of seventh year. Living at Feldcroft alone during the summer made Sebastian prioritize the work of the estate over his own physical needs, and he’d forgotten to attend to a fairly large physical need before returning to Hogwarts. On their first evening back, his sweet witch had greeted him in the Great Hall with her mouth agape and eyes raking over his entire head. “What?” he’d asked hesitantly, running a hand through his hair. “Is there a grindylow hanging off my back?”

“Mm-um, no,” she replied. Her voice was a croak. “Your hair just looks…different.” 

Sebastian swore. “I forgot to cut it before leaving! Shit! I always try to make sure it’s clean cut before school.” He knew he must have looked crazy, disheveled, unkempt, but he couldn’t understand why her eyes were still the size of the dinner plates on the long tables behind them.

“It–you shouldn’t, um, it–it looks really good, Seb,” she had rasped.

It looks really good, Seb.

With a smirk, he looked back in the mirror on the wall and saw that his hair was now just as it had been that very enlightening day, waves turning into full curls around his temples and brushing the bottom of his neck. He couldn’t even deny the little prick of ego that told him he did look really good. Perhaps he’d lose his shears after this. Some of the color was returning to his face, too, as he set off after her with more confidence this time. 

When he next caught sight of her, she was pulling open yet another door, and he ran forward to try and catch up with her, but felt his heart drop when she smiled in relief and entered the room. “Wait–!” He reached out a hand, but he was still several lengths down the hall from her, and the door was quickly shutting behind her. In one last blind attempt to not lose her, he dove forward and, carried by the illogical nature of her dreamstate, landed directly behind her and wrapped his outstretched hand around her ankle.

“It’s me!” He tried to say, but his mouth wasn’t producing any sound. His vision swam and the torches behind them flickered low, threatening to blow out. She was scared. He tried again to reassure her, to relinquish her ankle and stand, but he was frozen, paralyzed by her mental defenses. Recalling the earlier technique that freed him, Sebastian pressed his face against the ground and breathed deeply, righting himself. The torches blazed back to their full flame. 

Before he could do more than shakily climb to his knees, still using her ankle as support, the two of them were thrust backwards, away from the open door and hurled down the hallway they’d just run down. She shrieked and clawed at the ground while Sebastian tried frantically to yell her name to calm her, though he was close to a panic attack himself. Her subconscious must not have been completely fooled by the “friendly presence” of the unexpectedly skilled legilimens visiting it for the evening.

Finally, they slowed and slid to a halt, but when Sebastian looked up to take in their surroundings, he found them no longer in the torch-lit corridor, but in…

Fuck, Sallow, come on. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to visualize any other setting than his own bedroom at Feldcroft. She had never seen it for herself before, and would surely be suspicious if it suddenly made an appearance in her dreams. Perhaps the hair had been a bad idea. 

But then he saw that she was still heaving shallow breaths, hunched over on the floor, and he ran to her. Kneeling in front of her and grabbing her face in his hands, he cooed, “Hey, hey, it’s alright, love, it’s alright! You’re safe, I’m here, everything’s alright!” He’d never meant for all of this to scare and stress her so badly. It was supposed to be a tranquil dream that he infiltrated, one so lovely and bubbly that the mere suggestion of a fuck from her dashing friend would be enough to send her into fits of rapture. Clearly, she was carrying some sort of tension with her throughout the day, if her dreams drifted to such harrowing places at night. 

“B-birdie?” she sniffed as she gazed up at him, properly realizing who her captor/savior was for the first time. 

“Yeah, it’s me, baby, you’re okay,” he murmured, smoothing a thumb over her cheek and catching the tear that hung there and wishing his cock hadn’t stiffened. She dug her fingers into his pajama shirt and tried to gain control of her breathing. She looked so tiny, so fucking vulnerable, that he couldn’t believe he’d ever thought about–

She launched herself fully into his arms and kissed him. Sebastian’s eyes flew open and took in the Slytherin Quidditch team poster that he had stuck to the top of his canopy in second year. “Fuck!” he yelled, and one of his roommates snorted in their sleep, disgruntled. The shock had shot him straight out of her dream and back to the real world. Before he shut his eyes once more, he cast silencio over his bed, lest he wake up and scream again. 

When he next opened his eyes, she was still kissing him. Oh, what a lovely night to discover that he had impeccable legilimency skills. 

He recovered himself by pressing a hand into the stone of Feldcroft’s floors, and he felt everything sharpen and come into clearer focus again, including the little sounds she was making as she licked his bottom lip. 

“Oh, God, sweetheart,” Sebastian groaned, taking her face in his hands again and making sure her lips stayed pressed against his forever. It was every bit of the heaven he had envisioned. Three years of pining after this woman had set a lot of expectations in his head that he was sure were unrealistic. But she felt just as good, hell, fucking better than he had ever imagined.

He stopped caring about maintaining his composure when her wandering hands slid down his front and came to rest on top of his painful erection. “Fuck, wanted this for ages, fuckin’ love you,” he grunted, embarrassment a distant memory. Why had it been so awful that she’d seen him close to naked? As she unbuttoned his shirt and shoved it off his shoulders, he found that he couldn’t recall. Seemed like she wanted to see him naked very badly, now.

Apparently, she did, because his clothes were inexplicably gone before she’d even reached the last button. “I like dream you,” he muttered as he laid her back against the ground and slotted one of his now-bare knees against her hot core. “She doesn’t make fun of me so much.” He looked down at her, panting beneath him and begging him with her eyes to take care of her. She didn’t seem to be able to hear him very well, the ends of her eyebrows drawing together in confusion as she watched his mouth move. Oh, well. She was enjoying herself and he didn’t have to worry about making a fool of himself anymore than he already had. 

The dressing gown that had set him off just hours ago was wrapped tight around her waist, taunting him. Sebastian did what he’d wanted to do right there outside the prefects’ bathroom and ripped it and the nightgown away from her body. They seemed to dissolve into steam or otherwise drift off her skin as he drug his fingertips down her now exposed form, which writhed with want for him. 

Without a natural proclivity for it, the aspiring legilimens may find themselves frustrated by lack of progress.

Sebastian was grinning when he pulled her legs up, tossed one over each shoulder, and dove into her cunt with his tongue. She gave a positively sinful moan and wrapped her fingers in his newly-long hair. When she felt the extra length sliding through her hands, she gasped, “Oh, fuck, I love your long hair!” He bumped and rubbed her clit with his nose in response, somewhat to elicit another pornographic cry from her and somewhat to hide the idiotic grin that hung on his face, covered with her own wetness. Her taste was so perfect on his tongue, he thought he might weep.

“You taste so divine, I knew it. Better than any fucking tart.” He hoped she hadn’t clocked the “I knew it.” Given that her only response was to wiggle her hips further up his shoulders so his face was pressed more flush against her cunt, he figured that she hadn’t. The image of her, sweet and thoughtful, holding the cherry tart for him outside his dormitory, popped into his head as he ate her out. Merlin’s fucking beard, do I adore this woman, he thought happily.

“You–” She was attempting to choke words out of her mouth as it lolled open with stupid pleasure. “You kn-knew it?” Sebastian only hummed and licked his tongue in a circle in response, which made her back arch. “Was…Is little birdie that curious about me?”

“Fuck, I love it when you call me that,” he growled, enjoying the relief of unloading all his secrets to her in this isolated setting. He’d thought about getting her in his own bed more times than he could count, but it had never gone this well, even in his fantasies.

After he’d made her scream his name three times using just his tongue, he lifted her off the ground and threw her onto his bed gingerly. He climbed on top of her while she reached and whined for him, throwing a leg over either side of her waist and wondering vaguely if her physical form was reacting to this dream as excitedly as her dream one was. Then he realized that he had no idea what his own sleeping body was doing in the boys’ dorm, and was very glad for the silencing charm he’d hastily thrown up.

The sheer weight of sinking into her made Sebastian’s head sag, dropping it onto her shoulder. “Oh, goddamn,” he whimpered. His cool exterior fell away as desperation took over and he whined through the feeling of dragging his cock back out of her. She wrapped her legs around his waist tight, locking him in and making him falter a little bit. His arms on either side of her shoulders held him up, and he noticed with a momentary sheepishness that they looked a bit more muscular than they might have looked outside of the dream. Anything in the name of her comfort, he thought to himself, and a devilish little “Ha!” slipped out of him as he began moving inside her again.

He took his time. It was a dream, he figured, so there were no real-world deadlines to be concerned about while he languidly fucked her. She occasionally would dig her nails into his back and demand he go faster, but he hushed her each time and focused on the way her mouth fell open a little each time his cock brushed her limit. After a few minutes (hours?) however, he found himself unable to maintain his lazy pace, his own needs creeping up on him with wicked subtlety.

“G-God,” she hiccupped when he began thrusting hard and fast.

“No, sweetheart, it’s Seb,” he grinned. 

He leaned down and licked a hot trail from her collarbone up behind her ear and she moaned, a portrait of prettiness and pleasure. Her tits bounced with each thrust and he found himself staring unabashedly at them. She was too drunk on him to even try and cover herself from his gaze, but from the way she was ogling his naked body, he figured that she was alright with a little peeping.

She hiccupped again and huffed a piece of hair that had fallen in her eyes out of the way. “No–ah!” Her hands flew to his triceps and clutched them for dear life as he drove into her steadily. “Nuh-uh. M’birdie,” she slurred. Her face and body were drenched with sweat, as was his, and a drop fell from the tip of his nose and landed on her breasts. “Dirty birdie.”

Her giggle changed course and melted into a moan as he groaned and picked up his pace even more, chasing their highs for the both of them. “Shit, baby, come for me! I’m all fucking yours,” he cried over the sound of their hips slapping against each other repeatedly. She shrieked and threw a hand out, searching for something to grasp onto, but found nothing solid. Then her fingers closed around his run-down antique headboard, and he committed the image to memory like it was a religious rite. Inane syllables were trickling out of her mouth, but for the most part, she’d been struck dumb. Sebastian indulged in the trickle of pride that ran through him at the sight. 

But he hadn’t gotten what he wanted yet, not really. The image that had been plaguing him since he first started harboring this nasty crush on his dear friend. The one that got him dangerously aroused if he even dared think about it. And if this was going to be their only sexual encounter (and there was no doubt in his lovesick mind that it would be), he wasn’t leaving without witnessing it firsthand.

So, just to be safe, he begged for it.

“Let me see you cry when you come real pretty, please? Hm?” He fucked her as hard as he could, and her body shook. Tears were welling up in her eyes. “Come on, I’ll be a good little birdie, I swear.” 

Her tight walls clamped around him, hard, and he gave a strangled yell, his eyes squeezing shut. 

When he opened them, the blasted, poxy, stupid, goddamn Quidditch poster was staring at him, instead of the flushed and fucked-out witch that he wished were still underneath him. He was on his back, panting like he’d just run the length of the castle, the note from her still clutched in his sweaty palm and the heavy legilimency book still open atop his stomach. Exhaustion dug its claws into his racing mind. He hadn’t realized how draining legilimency would be, even if the screwing hadn’t required any real effort. 

Probably should have read one more chapter. He yawned and fell into the first dreamless sleep he’d had in months.

The following morning, he plodded into the Great Hall for breakfast feeling like his legs were made of tar. The few hours of sleep he’d gotten after his little legilimency practice session had not been nearly enough to refresh him, and after he’d woken up, he found the imagery from the dream playing on a permanent loop in his mind. Sebastian realized, as he ascended the stairs from the Slytherin dormitory with a sinking sense of dread, that the dream had been a horrible idea. He knew how perfect she felt now, and nothing would ever compare, he was sure of it. And if she was as happy with the experience as she had seemed to be…

But then, he argued with himself as he poured a cup of coffee from the hog’s head pitcher on the dining table, maybe none of it had stuck for her. Maybe she had awoken to no memory of the previous night’s dream, and the idea of hooking up with him hadn’t taken root quite the way he’d hoped. 

Sebastian was still lost in his own brooding thoughts when someone sat across the table from him. He grunted wordlessly at who he could only assume was Ominis, his eyes still out of focus and staring out the window as he thought hard. 

“Morning,” came a squeak back, and Sebastian almost fell out of his seat when he realized it was not, in fact, Ominis sitting across from him. It was her. 

She looked awful, even through his lovestruck gaze. Her eyes were bleary, dark bags underneath them that indicated a fitful night of sleeping, and her skin was an ashen shade of its normal color. Her hair hung undone around her shoulders. Even her tie was tied incorrectly and wasn’t even underneath her shirt collar.

“Did you…not sleep well?” Sebastian asked, looking anywhere except at her. The eggs and toast on his plate were extremely interesting today. When she didn’t respond, he chanced a glance up at her. Her brow was furrowed.

“Yeah, I think I just had a bad–” Her eyes suddenly widened and her entire face, neck, and hands turned bright red. Sebastian’s insides contorted, nerves on fire. 

“Bad dream? What about?” He cocked his head to one side and tried to play as stupid as he felt. Could she tell? Did she know? How could she? If she’d enjoyed the dream, why did she look ready to jump from the Astronomy tower?

She was stammering. “Oh, er, no…it wasn’t…I mean bad isn’t–just kind of…weird, I think.” Then she finally broke eye contact with him and looked down at her empty plate. “And a little inappropriate,” she muttered.

“Yeah?” Sebastian thought his heart might give out. He darted his tongue out to lick his dry lips. “Inappropriate how?” 

She scowled at him and didn’t answer. He decided to push the enormous amount of luck he’d been granted the past two days.

Sebastian leaned forward, a conspiratorial grin tugging at his lips despite himself. “Come on, tell me! I won’t ask anymore questions. I promise, I’ll be such a good little bir–” “GoodBYE!” she cried, and leapt up from the bench as if she’d been hit with a blast of icy wind. 

Really must write the boring old git who wrote that book a nice thank you letter, Sebastian mused, spreading jam on a piece of toast and sinking his teeth into it as he watched her tear out of the Great Hall with one last glance back at him.

pt. 4

masterlist

[neoraso]

i like the way you love me | ldh

nonidol!haechan x nonidol!reader again- something no one asked for yayyyyy ftl, literally just fluff like nothing but happiness oops! there's only one joke about being like- deathly ill but i figured i'd warn you in advance wc:~ 2.5k

all plans you had about “going out on the town” with haechan were dashed as soon as you walked into his apartment. you could tell he was in the middle of gaming when you let yourself in with the spare key he hid “so well” under the mat that you bought him as a housewarming gift. walking through the door and placing your shoes neatly against the wall amidst the array of sneakers and grandpa sandals thrown around the entrance, you absentmindedly noted that the boundaries between you and haechan were almost nonexistent. it had been that way since you met in middle school, when he was baby faced and wild. back then he didn’t know the insinuations of sharing a drink with two straws or passing notes littered with hearts and stars just to say “hi.” now, his face had begun to sharpen, cheekbones more prominent and a jawline that defined his matured appearance. he was still wild, but his energy and teasing were tempered, and he had figured out how to sense when enough was enough.

affection between the two of you was not uncommon nor was it uncomfortable. in fact, haechan was the person you felt the most comfortable with out of your friends- even those you had known as long as him. you moved in sync, matched each other’s preferences and both equally gave each other the push or pull the other needed. he was your “person” as they say, and you sometimes told him this when you were drunk- or sometimes even just on a late-night phone call, falling asleep after your confession. you meant it platonically of course, but these days you couldn’t tell if there was more to your own words…      

you heard him before you saw him, which snapped you out of your thoughts. he was talking to whoever he was playing with through his headphones, but you figured it was jaemin given the sassy (and borderline offensive) comments that were thrown out but you all knew there was no real strength behind them.

the bedroom door was already open as you welcomed yourself in. as usual, even though it was midday the only light was coming from a floor lamp -another gift from you so he didn’t live in dungeon-like conditions- in the corner of the room. clearly, he did not notice you because when you poked his shoulder to announce your entrance he yelped and could’ve easily punched you in the stomach if you hadn’t been used to these reactions and jumped backwards with a smile.

“god, y/n! seriously i could’ve killed you! oh my f- sorry guys i’m sorry.’

he quickly got distracted again trying to resume his place in his game while you tugged on the strands of his bangs sticking out from his headphones.

“my bad, i knew that if i waited for you to respond to my text i would’ve been standing outside for four hours.” you took a pause as you twirled his hair between your fingers. “also, i think you need a haircut. you should let me do it.” you teased, knowing 50% of his concentration was not even on you anyways.

he swatted your hands away and huffed, still furiously clicking his keyboard.

“i thought you liked it long. or do you just want an excuse to touch my hair?” he replied, his smirk turning into a frown when you lightly pulled his dark strands again.

“i do like it, but how do you even see?” not waiting for his response, you flopped onto his bed which was- unsurprisingly- half-made but still smelled clean and slightly like his perfume. putting a pillow over your head, you closed your eyes, humming when he talked just loud enough to let you know when the match was over you guys could figure out what to do.

at some point, even despite his constant clicking and talking, you nearly fell asleep. nearly, until you felt something hitting the pillow that was actually, nearly suffocating you, still over your face. you blindly reached above you trying to catch the hands that were attacking you, glaring at a grinning haechan when you threw the pillow across the bed.

“come on y/n it’s like 2 pm this is no time to be falling asleep.”

“ok mister ‘i’d-lay-in-bed-all-day-if-i-could.’” you said, rolling your eyes.

“yeah but not when i have my lovely dearest bestest friend waiting to have fun with me~”

it was a bit odd how the term “best friend” had been bothering you lately. there was absolutely no reason to consider yourself more than that, but the more horrific probable possible cause was that you wanted more. in the 10+ years you had been friends with him, there had been no romantic feelings. you didn’t think he was unattractive by any means, and you always got along- never having a disagreement that lasted longer than 20 minutes. but you both dated other people, and never had any sort of tension or yearning that you could remember. that was until about six months ago, when you started noticing how pretty he looked when the sun started to go down, or the way his lips moved and pouted, glossing when he ran his tongue over them. it was getting kind of freaky at this point, and you tried to ignore these newfound “noticings” about your best friend.

pulling you out of your reverie, you realized you had been staring at him for about three seconds without speaking which was three seconds too long as he raised one eyebrow, maneuvering his hands back over yours, tugging on them to prompt you to get up.

“i know i’m gorgeous, but it is tiimeee to get uppp come onnn.”

he dragged out the words in singsong as your hands started to get clammy being this close to him.

this was getting to be absolutely ridiculous you thought. he was in a loose black tee shirt and basketball shorts that were a size too big, and he still looked too good.

he finally pulled you into a sitting position but held in his breath when you let go of his hands and wrapped your arms around his middle, gripping the fabric of his shirt. he tentatively draped one arm over your shoulder onto your upper back and placed the other one on the back of your head, slightly petting your hair.

“what’s gotten into you hm? you’re not usually this cuddly... are you terminal or something? please don’t tell me you’re terminal.”

your response was slightly muffled when you turned your head, so your lips were slightly pressed into his side. even you had no idea what you were doing. this was probably wildly inappropriate, but you were close enough you could play it off…most likely.

“don’t be ridiculous, i’m not sick. im just tired… or …something.”

“or something?” he almost sounded disappointed, which was concerning but also made you feel better that you both seemed to be dancing around something. he pulled the back of your hair to get you to look at him and you complied. you rested your chin on his stomach, enjoying the way he smelled just like he always does and how warm he was, his hand still resting on your shoulder blade.

for once, he was speechless, his hand stilling in your hair. luckily (for both of you) he regained his composure, blinking rapidly and clearing his throat, trying to change the subject.

“well, either way, what did you want to do today? i know i said we should go out but now i kinda wanna… stay in… i guess…” he trailed off noticing how your eyelashes brushed against the tops of your cheeks as you sleepily blinked up at him. suddenly the air became thick, waking you right up, your heartbeat picking up against your chest. he looked at you intently, like he was scanning your face for whatever you were thinking to be spelled out for him.

“y/n…”

this was bad. it’s like you were drunk, dizzy and face flushed, your skin was tingling but also numb everywhere you could feel him. you had a feeling where this was going and though it scared the hell out of you, you also wanted him badly. more than anyone you ever have before and certainly more than you ever thought you would feel towards him.

you could only hum in response as he trailed both of his hands to the back of your neck.

“do you think we’re changing too or is it just me?”

his question caught you off guard and you wished he’d do pretty much anything else (mainly, kiss you) than continue this vulnerable conversation. but he was still looking at you, with eyes that were more earnest than usual, and you knew this was a time he needed sincerity and honesty from you.

“changing…” you repeated his term thoughtfully before finishing your sentence. “well um… yes. i mean- i think about you differently than i ever have and i…” you were almost too embarrassed to continue, but his eyes still staring into yours and shining with the fondness he always had for you, you felt you owed it to him to let him know how you felt- even if he didn’t reciprocate. “the thought of you with anyone else scares me. i want to be able do…this” you said tugging his shirt to emphasize your intimate position, “all the time, not as friends. i don’t want to just be your friend.” he still wasn’t speaking which made you nervous and continue to ramble when you probably, most definitely should not have. “lately i don’t want to be away from you, and i… want to be yours…if that’s ok and you feel the same obviously… i mean i hope you would-“

he cut you off with a whisper of your name. to which you replied with a meek “yes?” your voice cracking a bit from nerves, not expecting to say all of…whatever that was. you shocked even yourself with everything you admitted to him.

“do you not know how i feel about you-or have felt about you? it’s been like three years.” though his words were loaded, he was still smiling down at you. then you realized he said three years.

“you’re kidding.” was all you could manage, deadpan, as he started to chuckle, rubbing the tips of your ears between his fingers.

“mmm i’m not~ thank you for meeting me in the middle i knew you would.”

you poked his side at that and narrowed your eyes, making him laugh more. “well don’t sound so smug, or i’ll take it back.”

“you couldn’t even if you tried~ i’m irresistible.” he didn’t even give you a chance to roll your eyes as he lifted you up under your arms to stand in front of him.

looking up at his face, you tried to keep your voice steady.

“we’re very close right now…”

he looked down at your lips and leaned in, just close enough to where you could feel his breath hit your nose.

“yes we are. is this ok?” his breathing was even but his pulse was not, you could feel it fluttering against your chest at the same beat as your own heart. he leaned in more as you nodded and closed your eyes as you waited for his lips to finally meet yours. his hands reached down to grab your hips and he grinned against your mouth when you put your hands over his, slightly pushing your fingers in between the gaps of his own. after what seemed like eons, he kissed you, inhaling deeply and gripping your waist just a bit tighter. not wanting to overwhelm you by slipping his tongue in like he wanted, he opted begrudgingly to pull away and kiss the corner of your mouth, squeezing your side and kissing your cheek next when he heard you whine and felt your hands climbing up his stomach to his shoulders then the nape of his neck to pull his mouth back on yours.

indulging in you again because – when has he ever said no to you- he gave you one, two, three more kisses, each louder and wetter than the last until kissing your nose and pulling away.

“hey, we still never figured out what we wanted to do today. i haven’t even taken you on a date yet.” he said thoughtfully.

“we can date tomorrow, can’t we just stay in and do this all day? we can watch a movie later… i guess…”

he gave a real laugh at his and pet the top of your hair noticing your frown at the thought of parting from him.

“you’re so cute like this, ohh what am i gonna do? but ok, you win. i wanted to stay in too. and now,” he started with his signature mischievous look, “i get to have you all to myself~ and do this- “he slightly lifted you again and pretty much tossed you on the bed earning a yelp as he climbed into his side, lifting up the blanket to encourage you to slip underneath with him. cuddling was nothing new but with this newfound stage in your dynamic it seemed a bit daunting now.

“come on, i won’t bite-unless you want me to” he said wiggling his eyebrows, grinning when you lightly smacked his thigh before lying next to him. immediately throwing your arm around his middle and slipping your ankle between his, you adjusted your position and watched as he reached over onto his bedside table to grab his laptop. he set it on his lap and typed in his password with one hand while the other arm was around your shoulder, securing you to him. he pressed his face into your hair and kissed you there before dramatically sniffing.

“baby… i think you need a shower…”

you gasped at his audacity (but mostly the pet name) and tried to get up from his iron grip threatening to go home as he laughed at you even more, relenting,

“i’m just kidding baby. ohhh my baby~ you actually smell great is it that perfume i got you?”

“yes…” you grumbled with hot cheeks, “i wear it every day.”

quieting down to look at you so tenderly, before he could say anything you spoke again,

“weird how we kind of skipped all the normal steps huh.”

he hummed and threaded his fingers through your hair.

“did we need the steps? we’ve known each other forever and everyone already acts like we’re together. actually, we wouldn’t even have to say anything to anyone. i could probably makeout with you at the next group dinner and no one would care. wow that’s actually a great idea we should do that.”

“we absolutely should not? you’re crazy.”

“yeah, crazy for youuu~” before you could cringe at such a cliché line, he poked your shoulder and said with a faux stern tone, “hey, kiss me again.”

“now who’s obsessed?” you said, but still embarrassingly quickly lifted up from his grasp to lean over his face. he looked up at you with a slightly devious expression which did not match how carefully he moved your hair out of your face as you met him in the middle making him sigh into your mouth, breathing you in. he pulled away and pressed his head against the pillows to look at you better.

“me. i’m obsessed. i am completely obsessed with you, always have been. i’ll tattoo it on my neck and hands and update every social media letting everyone know how much i-“

“okay! i get it. but just know i feel the same… times 1000.” you interrupted him, becoming more bashful with each word. thankfully, he spared you, pulling you down to lay all your weight on top of him with your face in his neck and lightly rubbing your back.

“what should we watch? wait i have an idea-“

“not the kissing booth.” you managed to muffle against the skin of his neck. sick of that movie he made you watch at least once a month. but he could feel your eyelashes closing against his skin.

“you’re so mean. and you know what? i don’t even think you want to watch a movie you’re already drooling on my shoulder.” when he got no response from you, he got nervous he had actually offended you until he felt your soft, even exhales on his collarbones. realizing you actually fell asleep, he smiled to himself and continued to play with your hair. he was so content finally being able to have you this way it didn’t take him long to close his eyes and meet you in your dreams.

[succubusmelt]

Dating Alan Headcannons

Alan would be a very unique and devoted boyfriend. Here's some headcannons about dating him:

- Extremely loyal and monogamous. He takes the concept of "partners for life" very seriously. Infidelity is something he couldn't forgive.

- Very affectionate and cuddly. He enjoys long hugs, forehead kisses, playing with your hair. Physical touch is how he shows his love.

- Protective to the point of jealousy and possessiveness at times. He doesn't like being away from his partner for long.

- Aside from the intimacy, he likes bonding through activities like cooking together, stargazing, going for walks in nature.

- Communicates through actions more than words. Showing his care through acts of service, bringing you gifts, making sure your needs are met.

- His home/cabin becomes your home. He wants you with him always in his territory where he can shelter and provide for you.

- "Dating" doesn't exist much - it's more like living as a mated pair. The intensity of his feelings moves very fast.

- Low-key romantic gestures embedded in daily life, like picnics by the fire or back rubs after a long day. He admires you as his equal.

- Sexually intense and intimate. Wants to explore and experience all of you without limits or judgment. But also very sweet.

- Somewhat insecure due to his past but your reassurance and choice to be with him eases that. He tries his best to be "normal."

- Fun adventures like hiking in the forest keep the passion alive between you two nature-lovers. Tradition meets novelty.

[unemployedhockeyfan]

Not All Breakups Are Equal

Summary: Lando and Eloise, two best friends. They'd been there for one another for as long as they could remember. But, just a few short weeks change everything.

Warnings: angst I guess

Notes: Hi! This is a first for me, so please share your feedback!! Let me know if you want a part 2!!

[1.4k]

This was not how it was supposed to end. 

We were supposed to be friends until our dying breaths. If I let my true imagination wander, it wouldn’t have ended just like that either. If I was honest with myself early on, he would have been the man I saw as I walked down the aisle. 

But here we are in his way-too expensive Monaco apartment. 

“Eloise, I don’t understand why you are so pressed about this,” Lando shouted in my direction. 

The issue was nearly nonexistent three weeks ago. Lando, my best friend, had been seeing a new girl. I had tried my best to try and get to know her — it is what I always did when a new woman entered his life. 

The key is that I tried. She didn’t want any part in being my friend. Only a few days after I had met the new fling, I found out what she had to say about me. 

None of it was good. Honestly, most of it was vile. She’s so fake. She’s just jealous because he will never look at her like that. He just pities her. I’ll make him forget her name. 

As my mind continues to be clouded by what my best friend’s new girlfriend thinks of me, I’m thrust back into reality. Lando and I are shouting at each other — something we never used to do. Really, this may be the first time it’s ever happened. 

Max, a mutual friend to both of us, is sitting awkwardly on the couch. He clearly wishes he was anywhere but this apartment. I can only imagine what Lando’s neighbors are thinking at this moment. 

“How could I not care, Lando?” I yelled back.

“She was joking,” Lando responded. 

This wasn’t a joke. A joke is between friends. A joke isn't supposed to leave you crying on the bathroom floor. 

A joke isn’t supposed to end a friendship. 

“She was not joking, Lando. She was serious. If you cannot support me, if you cannot tell her that it’s not OK to talk about me like that, I’m not sure we can be friends anymore.” 

I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth, and by the look on Lando’s face, I don’t think he can either. 

“Eloise,” Lando said before he paused to take in my emotions. 

I felt the tears rolling down my face. I hadn’t even realized the tears had started to come. But how could they not? A 15-year friendship was only a few words away from ending. As I had made the proclamation, I glanced to my side and saw Max’s mouth agape. 

The three of us — the three musketeers — had been side-by-side-by-side for as long as I could remember. My twin brother had grown up karting with them, and while Lando and Max were friends with Rory, there was something about the three of us that clicked more. 

I watched from the sides as they grew up and chased their dreams and I watched as Lando made his Formula 1 debut. 

Along the way, I had apparently caught feelings for the British driver, too, but I’d never openly admit that. 

Max suspected it, though. 

“You can’t seriously be thinking about ending our friendship over this?”

“I don’t know, Lando. I think we’ll always be friends, but I can’t be an active participant in your life if she is too. I need to protect my own mental health.” 

Lando’s eyes were beginning to be rimmed with tears. 

I cannot believe I’m the person who’s making him cry. When he and Louisa went through their breakup and I saw how sad he was, I vowed that I would never be the reason for his tears. 

But, here we are and I’m making him cry. 

The longer I stand here in his kitchen, though, the more I start to think about it not actually being my fault. He’s the one who invited his new girlfriend into his life. She’s the one who said negative things about me. I’m just protecting myself. 

“No, Eloise, you can’t just walk out the door.”

My mind was so cluttered that I didn’t even realize I had taken steps toward his front door — that I had one hand on the doorknob. Here I was, though, a simple hand movement and step away from walking out of Lando Norris’ life. 

“I’m sorry.”

I twisted the handle, opened the door and walked out. 

I was three steps down the hallway when I heard the door slam closed. I paused, part of me hoping I’d hear his voice call out. All I wanted was for him to follow me out into the hallway and fight for me to stay. 

As I stood three feet away from his front door, it was silent. He hadn’t followed me, Lando was still in his apartment — likely gazing down at his kitchen counter with Max equally shocked sitting on the couch. 

It was silent. 

I glanced back at his apartment, willing the front door to open. It never did, so I turned back around and walked toward the elevator. 

This was it. Our friendship was over. No, our friendship was paused. I wouldn’t let it be over, at least not in my head. 

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much sleep I lost over it, I was going to always tell myself that Lando was going to come back. I didn’t care if it was him coming back to me as a single man or if he entered my life again with the same girlfriend as long as she agreed to be kind to me. 

As I stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby of Lando’s apartment building, I braced myself for the evening chill. Before tucking my arms into my body, I wiped away the tears that seemed neverending at this point. 

Only seconds after stepping outside, I heard my name being called. 

“Eloise! Eloise! Stop, please, Eloise!” 

It wasn’t Lando, though. It was Max being the friend he always is. 

“Where are you going?”

It was a valid question, I don’t live in Monaco. Well, not officially. 

My job allows me to work remotely, so I truthfully live wherever Lando happens to be that week. That’s over now. 

“Um, I’m not really sure. I may just show up at the airport and see where I can get a flight. I just can’t be here.” 

The look on Max’s face is one I hope to never see again. I knew at that moment that Max had always known. He knew about the crush I started harboring when we were only 13 years old. 

“Eloise, I’m not going to stop you from leaving. I cannot imagine how much you’re hurting right now, but please know he does love you.”

“No, Max, don’t say that! Please, my heart can’t entertain that idea — not anymore.” 

“But he does, Eloise. He just doesn’t reali…”

“Max, stop,” I shouted to interrupt him. “Please. I need you to not say what you’re thinking. If he loved me, even if he didn’t realize it, he would never let me feel like this. Even if he wanted to still see her, he’d tell her to be kinder to me.” 

Max just stood there. He didn’t know what to say. To be honest, I didn’t really know either, but he knew enough to at least pull me into a hug. 

That’s when I lost it. The tears started flowing and it seemed like nothing would stop them. Max laid a kiss on the top of my head, he’s always been another brother to me. He gave me an extra squeeze before placing his hands on my shoulders and pushing me away slightly. 

“Just let me know where that plane ticket gets you, OK?”

“Always.” 

With that, I turned away from one of my two best friends, with the other several floors away, and began to walk. I didn’t even have my suitcase. I guess I’d have to text Max about that one because I couldn’t turn back now. 

It was just after midnight by the time I arrived at the airport — I had thankfully found an empty taxi despite the late hour. 

As I approached the counter in the airport, the employee gave me a quick glance before her eyes returned to the screen in front of her.

“May I help you?”

“I’d like to buy a ticket.”

“To where?” 

I froze, I still hadn’t thought this far. I could go home, but that would be the first place Lando looked. For as much as I wanted him to chase after me, I still didn’t want to be easy to find. 

On a whim, one place came to mind. 

“New York. New York City.” 

[slytherinshua]

TWS AS BOYFRIENDS

genre. fluff. headcanons. warnings. not proofread. pairing. tws x fem!reader. wc. 2.2k. (around 350-400 per member). request. requested by anon. a/n. whoo these were so fun to write but also hard lmao i hope you all like them and hopefully they're accurate.... I TRIED MY BEST!!

SHIN JUNGHWAN

junghwan is your own personal baby

because he’s the oldest in tws and the leader he can get tired of having those responsibilities all the time

he loves that with you he can be himself without having to worry about being responsible for anything 

he’s so clingy he basically turns into a koala the second he gets home to you

back hugs all the time, you have to learn how to walk around with him attached

he loves to rest his head in your lap omg if you play with his hair he would melt

and don’t you dare stop once you start cause he will complain :(

he’s so soft for forehead kisses, he gives them to you all the time

with little whispered compliments as well sdksjdksfjs

he’s so attentive LIKE IT’S HOT HOW ATTENTIVE HE IS

he always knows your schedule and what you’re doing for the day

he always checks up on you and he can read you so effortlessly

it’s almost telepathic you are so connected with him

if you tend to misplace your stuff a lot, he will always know where it is

your phone, you lip gloss, you keys, your wallet, your jewelry 

he keeps track of anything and everything just for you <3

he makes little playlists for you and sends you pics of anything that reminded him of you

you’re just always on his mind no matter what he is doing

omg his morning voice is insane

like his voice is already deep imagine how much deeper it is in the morning

drives you absolutely crazy and he catches on to how much you like it

uses it to tease you in the morning, junghwan thinks it’s so cute how you get all shy

but this man can also get quite shy from things you do

if you say you love him randomly he’ll blush maybe even stutter he just can’t handle it when he doesn’t expect it

and also his neck is pretty sensitive so if you kiss it his brain is gonna malfunction

you’ve made him buffer in real time if you do that he literally becomes frozen in his spot

you really are the best balance to each other, equally affecting the other and always having the other on your mind

KIM DOHOON

dohoon always knows how to make things fun and exciting

he’s always looking for new things to try out and make new memories with you

whenever he has a day off he’ll go out with you whether it’s to a board game cafe, bowling, shopping, or even ice skating, he’s ready to try everything with you!!

you laugh all the time with him, it’s like there’s not a dull moment

he takes fashion so seriously so he’d definitely love to style you

shopping dates are his favourite!!

would beg you to try on different dresses and tops, anything he saw that he thinks would look good on you

of course you oblige him 

he loves matching outfits the most

he’ll take so many pictures of you two together with your couple outfits

he makes sure to not miss any of the accessories either

matching rings, matching bracelets, matching necklaces, he has everything

cause even though he doesn’t say it, he gets jealous easily and matching with you is a way for him to tell the world that you’re his

we all know he’s so shy and introverted, so while he loves to try new things, he also has a limit to it

if you wanted to do multiple things in a day outside he’d probably get so tired at the end

he also hates taking pictures outside he just feels so shy about it

he will take pictures of you, though, but you’d have to convince him a lot to take pics together :(

so you usually just take pics before you leave 💔

he’s so good at cheering you up as well

he’ll talk to you softly about anything that’s concerning you and he really gives the best advice in the world

he’ll offer hugs or kisses or whatever you need

will also sing for you whenever you want, even if he’s a little shy about it at first

he loves how you’re his biggest cheerleader and he tries to be your biggest fan as well 

you’re both supporting each other all the time and sticking by each other’s side through anything

when you’re with him, it feels like the world was made for just you two

CHOI YOUNGJAE

he is the most caring boyfriend on the planet!!!

he always knows exactly how you feel and exactly what you need when you’re not at your best

even just a few encouraging words and a kiss from youngjae can make everything feel better

he can get so sassy out of nowhere— he’s not afraid to judge everything and everyone around him

even if he doesn’t say anything you can see it on his face

and he likes to gossip with you too he can’t help it

so you share all your girl tea with him and he gets so immersed in it

loves drama just as long as it’s not happening to him or anyone he’s close to 

he can’t stand it when things are stressful because of unnecessary drama, it just gives him a headache

if you ever got into an argument with youngjae it wouldn’t last long

he hates conflict so he’d admit he was in the wrong pretty fast 

he’s the mom of tws and he’s pretty mature, he definitely knows when a fight is worth it or not

it’s peaceful with youngjae 99% of the time

plus he already has to deal with his 3 children in tws

but even though he’s not as outwardly chaotic as the other members of tws, he’s still a lot of fun

he’s like that unintentionally funny type

he says whatever comes to his head and he’s quite witty with it 

never fails to make you laugh, he’s just comfort in a person <33

he likes reading so he loves to exchange book recommendations with you or read books together

he’d annotate your favourite books and give it to you for you to read KSDKS HE’S SO ROMANTIC IN SUCH A SUBTLE WAY

he also loves to go on casual or more chill dates

if it’s a picnic he’d make food for you, or if it’s an at-home date he’d make sure to create the best setup for you to cuddle together

his subtlety and attitude towards dating makes you feel so at ease

it always feels like you’re enough for him, he’s never asking for anything else from you

you fit together so perfectly, you would never get bored of each other’s company

youngjae is just comfort to you, he’s your home

HAN ZHEN

hanjin makes life feel exciting for you

it’s not even an exaggeration in the slightest, when you’re with him you are always creating the most precious memories that you will remember years to come

he’s quite smart and responsible as he’s the oldest child in his family

he knows a bunch of random knowledge that you wouldn’t even expect from him

but i feel like he is quite chronically online so he learns a lot lol

he knows the best ways to cure headaches, he gives really good massages, i feel like he even studied how to kiss or flirt ksdksjs

we know he loves taking pictures but his camera roll is literally only you

he’s always taking pictures every single day, he just loves documenting everything!!

sometimes he’ll tell you to pose and he always gets the best angles and lighting

other times he’s taking candids which might be his favourite

he has pictures of you sleeping, he loves to tease you about how cute you look

whenever he compliments you he’ll fish for one back jokingly

but if you don’t give him one back he’ll get pouty and sassy too

but you just think it’s super cute

he sends you daily ootd’s and always asks for your opinion on them

of course he looks so fine in everything and you tell him that

if you specify that something looks good on him he will wear it again because you like it skdjks

he loves watching dramas with you and talking about them 

you always have the same favourite characters

if there’s a plot twist (ay ay ay ay ay) you’ll both be shocked in sync

he loves to hate on the bad guys with you like you’ll be cussing them out together for real

you help him study korean as well!!

and by that i mean motivating him with kisses even if you don’t know how to speak it yourself

seeing how much he improves everyday is just 💔 you're so proud of him

and knowing someone is proud of him makes him work twice as hard :(

you’re always there cheering him on and sharing the best moments of your life with him by your side

HAN JIHOON

hyperactive playful boyfriend #1

he literally has two moods either he’s the sweetest most romantic or he’s trying to annoy you in any way he can

probably become a little bit too addicted to pulling pranks on you or teasing you in any way he can 

seeing your reaction when he stole one of your lip glosses or scrunchies was a little too good because he started to step it up a bit further

but he took a little too far because he went for your food and that was where you drew the line

had to pay for all your food for a week after that but the boy learned his lesson

you still both enjoy a little harmless prank and you’ll think of ways to top him as well <3

and you both tease each other about everything

you’re always laughing together and are the brightest and most energetic when you’re around him

when he’s tired he gets so clingy 

even though he’s usually the vitamin and the energy for other people, he needs someone to give him energy as well

and he just loves you so much he’d never stop hugging you if he could

he’s always so sweet when he’s not being mischievous 

and he’ll always listen to your concerns and problems and take them seriously

he gives the best advice that he can and communication with him is so key!!

he gets excited about the smallest things as well which is adorable

your successes are his successes, and he is always celebrating you however he can

he’s dancing 24/7, doing tiktok trends, group choreo, or random tutting that he learned recently

he forces you to do it as well lol

probably laughs if you get it wrong but is also the best teacher 

biggest cheerleader for you when you do it perfectly 

he has so many videos on his phone of you and him dancing together

also some other videos that he took either of both of you together or just you :(

obsessed with candids like he just loves you when you’re the most comfortable and he’s obsessed with capturing it on his phone so he can look at it whenever he wants 

jihoon is the sun for other people but you are the sun for him

LEE KYUNGMIN

hyperactive playful boyfriend #2

kyungmin always knows how to make things fun

he’s such a cute and lovable person omg he gives me cuteness aggression

he’s kinda possessive of you lol

he’s always taking your side of any argument and clinging to you

cause he’s so young he’s pretty feisty too

and he takes great pride in being able to call himself your boyfriend so if anyone dares to question him or you he’ll take care of it

he has so many little hobbies and interests, he enjoys practically everything

especially when you’re there doing it with him

he will teach you a bunch of different games and compete with you

rubik’s cube solving competitions, chess tournaments, basketball shooting competitions, bowling (he’s surprisingly good), even water bottle flipping

he really loves competing, he thinks it’s so fun

he loves playing on your team even more than competing with you, though

if you play any game with the other tws members kyungmin will fight to be on your team

he’s also a cheater in games against the other members skdjks

he’ll scheme with you on how to cheat and celebrate with you when it works

kyungmin always talks so highly of you and boasts about you to his friends

because he’s so proud of you he wants everyone to know that you’re his

he’s a bit shy when it comes to affection

hugs and holding hands are all good but any kind of kissing will get him blushing and flustered

he has to build up his confidence by starting with cheek kisses

eventually he’ll get confident enough to kiss you properly

it’s so sweet because you’re experiencing so many firsts together

he asks the other members for relationship advice and what he receives is a bit… questionable

he’s probably left with more questions than answers

but he always tries his hardest to be the best boyfriend ever

and in your mind he really is the best, there’s nothing about him that you would ever want to change

his youthful energy is so infectious you’re never bored when you’re around him

he’s just your adorable cinnamon roll of a boyfriend and he loves you so much 💔

↳ tws taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @talkingsaxy,, @talking-saxy

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Vesuvia Weekly: Things the M6 don't do anymore

~ my little creative drabble for the prompt "How Things Changed" (pre- vs post- plague) over on @vesuviaweekly! Hope you guys like this little hurt/comfort/fluffy train of thought :3 ~

Julian doesn't shout in his sleep anymore. He still gets nightmares, still tosses and turns and mumbles and wakes up with a start in a cold sweat - but his troubled murmurs don't turn into the terrified cries that they used to. He's still working on eating better and sleeping longer and it's taking time. But from the moment you first lay down next to him for the night, some part of his brain understood that the warm, safe weight of you meant he didn't need to scream to be heard anymore - or helped.

Asra rarely makes tea anymore. They still love to drink it - multiple times a day, if they can - but now you're the one who makes it. He never got over his childhood wariness of tea kettles in general after the mishap that involved his magic appearing. While you were recovering, it was one of many duties they happily shouldered to take care of you. Now that you're equal partners again, it's one of the many small ways he's begun letting you take care of him in turn. Besides, yours tastes better.

Nadia doesn't run away to her tower anymore. She still visits it frequently, to think, or nap, or clear her head, or give her introverted nature a break from the constant social pressures of being Countess. But she doesn't run away to it, to sit in the circular chamber and pretend (or hope) that the rest of the world had simply ... ceased to exist. She doesn't like the thought of losing a world that has you in it. Now, her visits range from serene to tumultuous, but they all carry hope and purpose within them.

Muriel doesn't forget to tend the fire anymore. It used to be an easy thing to go without. After Asra moved out, after his tormentor went up in flames, it was easy to watch the light in his hearth slowly dwindle and die. It was peaceful to sit in the dark quiet of a stone hut and slip into another long, deep, chilly sleep. But now you're here. And you deserve to be warm. You're worthy of a space filled with golden light and soft furs and beautiful tapestries and good food and warmth. And maybe ... he is too.

Portia has stopped hiding in the library. Don't get her wrong, she still sneaks into it all the time. (Seriously, what else was she going to do when she was handed one of the only two sets of keys???) The library was her space, with stories only she had read, where the skills she grew for herself hid among the bookshelves. Her achievements are much, much bigger now. They look back at her in your eyes, in Pepi's little voice, in a flourishing Vesuvia. She doesn't hide in the library anymore. She emerges from it.

Lucio refuses to eat breakfast by himself, ever again. As a soldier, it was a hurried affair around campfires - nothing like the fun of raucous dinners the night before - and as a Count, it was brought to him in his chambers. He'd sit and eat the pile of sugary goods and eye the mess of last night's debauchery and try not to feel cold and small and alone. After three years of hell, he's not alone anymore. Breakfast is campfire food, or inn amenities, and missing most of the sugar he loves - but it's portioned for two.