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ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is · 5 years

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1. I am an INTP 5w6 female and I want to know how to meet new people, it didn't bother me before but I had a boyfriend.of 1.5years and I now miss having someone in my life, don't remember exactly what I wrote but I thought I had made a good choice and was really hopeful about that relationship and I tried hard to make it work but I couldn't deal with his bs anymore, I did for a while cause I thought he was worth it, I've been trying to build deeper relationships but didn't care before so imbehnd

2. My ex wasn't extremely manipulative but he lied and hid things from me and got angry when I complained when his stories made no sense, I left We knew each other for so long and I couldn't deal with him not apologizing for his bs and blaming me for what he was doing, I just couldn't justify the relationship even if I still loved him This lead me to believe my strategy was wrong since I thought I knew him and that he was more mature than that, no matter how high the filter this could happen..

3. It's just so disappointing, you know? That people can be such assholes after managing to present themselves as the opposite of that for so long I've never really had close friendships except for my ex, and a few friends (I guess?) I didn't care much for this before since I'm alright on my own, but I found that I really liked having someone, so I'm trying to meet new people now that I'm more or less healing, but idk how to do it, acquaintances used to fall in my lap before but not anymore

4. I'm 23 yo, about to get my degree. I do have a crush on a classmate but when I try to picture us going out it feels awkward and weird since I don't know him very well, I need to know people well before considering dating... I'm just very lost and I feel kind of behind from everyone else since I'm super inexperienced (only that one bf, and it was long distance...) and idk how to correct that at this point. I've been dressing better so people treat me better (haven't noticed, makes sense tho)

5. People do seem to like me well enough but I guess everyone already has their group of friends and is too busy to invite me places often enough that I become part of the core group, but I'm getting there, a bit (I think) I've been going everywhere I've been invited with my classmates lately but they don't really bring anyone new, I've managed to be a step up from acquaintance with a girl friend, which is nice, with older friends the same thing happens, even if we come across their friends...

6. I've always had a hard time fitting in very well, romantically I'd love to have someone at a similar experience level because I feel like I missed out on being a crucial relationship for the other person, but my ex had several gfs before and I didn't care too much then but now I do because afterwards certain things made me feel bad, but I guess I could manage anyway.I also get paranoid when I read what other bs some people manage to do like marrying someone but loving their bestfriend instead

7. I apologize for making it so long but I thought it'd be necessary to give a bit of info on myself and my thoughts, my age, what I've been trying etc I just wanna meet good people at this point in my life and want some tips on how to do that without taking extremely long only for them to be assholes anyways... I think I've managed to make some more acquaintances but I've only clicked with two girls I talk to outside of the classroom when we're not hanging out, gonna focus on them rn-----------------------

(very long response ahead)

I know this is not what you asked nor is it necessarily going to be helpful or relevant but: I would strongly rethink your type. Ti-doms and 5s are both vanishingly unlikely to drop seven asks worth of highly personal and emotionally open information in the inboxes of total strangers.

With regards to the actual question, this is really not an MBTI question (more on this at the end) and not entirely something I’d consider myself an expert on. I very much hope I am not the only person you can go to on this because I personally wouldn’t want me to be my only source of advice on this. With those caveats, see below.

I think Tumblr (and to be fair some forms of media) portray friendships and relationships as an attraction at first sight/immediate connection.

This is fucking stupid.

Because I tie everything back to my personal soapbox causes: this is why I have such disdain for the anti-small talk crowd, or people who think they’re special because they crave a deep, below-the-surface human connection. Nearly everyone wants deep connection. It’s normal and healthy. It’s also an ongoing process that nearly always involves some period of time during which you and the other potential friend are awkward acquaintances who don’t entirely understand each other and have to talk about surface-level things. You can’t speedrun intimacy.

This is particularly true in adulthood. Children do make friends more quickly, but also children are weird and fickle and a friendship can be based on little more than sharing crayons (not to knock that, plenty of great friendships started that way) while adults have a much better sense of who they are and also typically a much more narrow definition of who they want as a friend and all kinds of emotional baggage to boot.

Essentially, if you want a friendship that matches the depth of a relationship of 1.5 years it’s probably going to take close to 1.5 years to get there, and from what you said you’d known each other even longer before the romantic relationship, so add that time too. Which might not be what you want to hear, but it’s important to manage the expectation. Basically all relationships (and by this I mean romantic or platonic) start out with little connection, and you become friends through building that connection, and you can’t really rush it.

I believe in “clicking” in the sense of there being an immediate mutual interest in getting to know each other better, but speaking practically, regardless of the initial chemistry you are still basically intrigued strangers at that point. All clicking does is provide additional motivation for that process of getting to know each other. And speaking from experience, deep friendships in the long term don’t always have an initial “click”. I’ve had relationships that were initially quite intense fade away, and others slowly grow from acquaintanceship into lasting intimate friendship even if we didn’t expect it on first meeting. The myth of clicking is confirmation bias - unless there was a serious fallout, you’ll probably forget the people who you thought you clicked with if it didn’t just work out, and conversely it’s not hard to look back through the lenses of memory and nostalgia and find a single moment when a friendship or love crystalized, even though the reality is that it was merely the tipping point after considerable energy had already been invested on both sides.

In terms of practical advice, finishing up a degree is a uniquely awkward time, especially if all your classmates are in the same boat, because there’s often a mentality of “we’re all going to leave soon, let’s stick with the friendships we have.” Others in your class may not have that motivation to make a close connection, and it sucks but it’s temporary. The good news is that the larger world doesn’t feel that way. It is a bit more difficult to make friends as an adult, just because you’re not spending time with people naturally the same way as you do in school, but meetups and clubs and social organizations all exist for this reason and are explicitly there for people who want to make friends. And again, it’s going to be a slow process. I respect that it’s frustrating having to start from what feels like square one, but it’s unavoidable.

As for dating, you don’t need to do apps if you don’t want to! But you’re right. It’s going to be comparatively inefficient. Particularly if you prefer to date people you already know socially, you’ll have to put in a lot of effort going to social things and building those acquaintanceships over time and you might need to ask someone out face to face. Inexperience is fine. Everyone has to start somewhere. The tradeoff is more that you can’t screen people as well if you’re on apps, and they can be kind of impersonal but you do get to interact with many people quickly on your own terms without having to go outside and with the luxury of being able to think up witty comebacks instead of having to chat in real time.

(I do want to counter the idea that people who use apps are any less deep or anything like that. Some people are comfortable with casual hookups and some aren’t, but many people use apps to set up a date first and see if they have enough of an interest to keep things going. As with all of the above, everything has to start somewhere and if you think of the app as a way to facilitate meeting people, rather than “I must make a romantic connection with this person tonight”, and steer towards dating vs. hookup apps/make it clear you’re looking for long-term relationships, you might have more luck. The point of the first date for most people isn’t to find a partner, though sometimes that happens; it’s to find someone you enjoy enough to go on a second date with and slowly get to know).

One final thought: all this advice applies universally but I actually think considering it in the context of MBTI is more harmful than helpful, or at best misleading. For example, you say that being a 5 you take too long to check if people are safe, which whether or not you actually are a 5 also has absolutely nothing to do with being a 5, and even if you are a 5 and this is a 5 thing, you’re aware of this behavior! You can stop doing that then! MBTI is not destiny!

Regardless of type, no one automatically knows what to say in every situation, no one can read minds, and no one has discovered the secret to always being liked and never being rejected. Type can convey talent or inclination but skill requires time. Extroverts are often better with people because they have to be - they aren’t as okay with just being alone, especially when younger, so they go out and deal with people and through that process learn to make friends. But they weren’t born with it. Sites that favor introverts and/or intuitives are terrible for a lot of reasons but I find they perpetuate the ideas I disagreed with above, that friendships for introverts and intuitives must always be with people who Click and Already Get It. This is wrong and it’s limiting. Obviously don’t pursue a friendship or relationship if you don’t like the person, but don’t write someone off just because you didn’t feel a magical spark right away. That’s not being deep and sensitive - that’s being closed off to new experiences. Anything worth doing involves real-world effort and some amount of risk, and usually it involves patience and time and awkwardness and uncertainty as well.

#mbti #enneagram #long post #aegeanfractal #answered asks

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rivjudephoenix · 6 years

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“The untold story of lost star River Phoenix – 25 years after his death” The Guardian, October 2018

Phenomenally talented and famously caring, River Phoenix’s death shocked the world. His girlfriend Samantha Mathis talks for the first time about that awful night, and the man behind the myth On the night of October 30th 1993, River Phoenix, his girlfriend, the actor Samantha Mathis, and his siblings Leaf (now known as Joaquin) and Rain, walked into the Viper Room, the LA club owned by Johnny Depp. Mathis thought they were there only to drop off his little brother and sister, “but when we arrived he said to me: ‘Oh, there are some people playing music tonight in the club who want me to play with them – that’s OK, right?’” she says. It wasn’t OK with her: she thought they would be going straight to her house. “I knew something was wrong that night, something I didn’t understand. I didn’t see anyone doing drugs but he was high in a way that made me feel uncomfortable – I was in way over my head,” she says. But she knew he wanted to stay, and thought it wouldn’t be long – after all, some of his stuff was in the trunk of her car. Instead, she says, starting to cry: “Forty-five minutes later, he was dead.”

[...] The [Phoenix] family was loving and close, but John, was complicated. In photos of him from the 1980s, he is the spitting image of Joaquin, and River reportedly saw him more as a little brother than a paternal figure. John had problems with alcohol and, from an extremely young age, Phoenix felt as if he, not his father, had to support the family. “River said to me in that last year: ‘I just have to make one more movie to put away enough money so my youngest sister can go to college,’” Mathis recalls. “I don’t know if that was true, but I remember him saying that.”

Mathis is talking to me on the phone from her apartment in New York. So much has been written about Phoenix over the years, but Mathis, who was with him when he died, has never spoken about him in depth before. “Except to my therapist,” she says, with a rueful laugh. Partly this has been out of respect to others who loved him, and partly because she was so traumatised by his death that she blocked out a lot of memories. But she recently saw, for the first time since Phoenix died, The Thing Called Love, in which they co-starred and his last completed film, and it got her thinking about things she hadn’t thought about in decades. So when she got a message from me soon afterwards saying I wanted to talk to her, it felt, she says, “like the universe wanted me to talk about him.”

“We met when we were both 19, and he bummed a cigarette off me in an LA club. This sounds incredibly cheesy but I knew I would be with him one day. It just felt fated between us, and there was such chemistry,” she says. Three years after that first encounter, Mathis’s premonition came true when they were cast in The Thing Called Love. “I think we recognised something in each other,” she says. Mathis had been raised by a single mother and had been acting since she was a teenager. “We came from very different families, but perhaps there were some broken parts in each other we recognised. We found safe harbour.”

After Phoenix died, various people who knew him talked about how they had seen the famously clean-living actor slipping into drug abuse over the years. Mathis, however, remembers his final year as very simple and happy, recalling the times they stayed with his family in Florida and Costa Rica, where they played music and cooked vegetarian food. “We just hung out with his siblings and got to be kids,” she says, crying again. “He was so good at hanging out.”

Perhaps in the absence of a father figure, Phoenix filled his life with quasi big brothers who tried to help him: Dermot Mulroney was one, Dan Aykroyd another, and Phoenix and Mathis stayed with the latter for a time at his place in Canada. Aykroyd had lost his best friend, John Belushi, to a drug overdose just over a decade earlier, and he reportedly urged Phoenix to stay away from drugs. Michael Stipe was another. “We met through my sister,” says Stipe. “She’d moved to Florida and became familiar with the whole family. I would visit her and hang out with them, and I have two sisters who I love very much, but River was like my little brother. We’re exactly 10 years apart and he really did feel like a brother to me.”

Phoenix’s mother had moved the children to Florida as they became more successful to keep them away from the seedier elements of LA life. But Phoenix still saw it as his role to save people, and as he started hanging out with various creative people in Los Angeles, he tried to help them come off heroin, going so far as to get one particular individual into rehab. “But when he needed help, they didn’t help him. In fact, in some cases, it was the opposite,” says Mathis. She says Phoenix was – as far as she knows – sober during their time together, “but I was very young then. In the days before he died, though, I knew something was going on.”

[...] On the night of October 30th 1993, when Mathis realised Phoenix wanted to stay at the Viper Room, she went to the bathroom. “I knew he was high that night, but the heroin that killed him didn’t happen until he was in the Viper Room. I have my suspicions about what was going on, but I didn’t see anything,” she says. When Mathis came out of the bathroom she saw what she thought was Phoenix in a scuffle with another man, and the two of them being pushed out of the club’s side door by a bouncer. When she went out on to the street after them, she saw Phoenix drop to the ground and go into convulsions on the pavement. Thankfully, this was before the paparazzi had became ubiquitous so no one took photos, but it also meant no one was around to help.

“What have you done? What are you on?” Mathis shouted at the other man. “Leave him alone, you’re spoiling his high,” he retorted. Mathis desperately tried to get back into the club to get help, but the side door was firmly shut. So she ran around to the main door, searched through the club for Phoenix’s siblings and they all dashed outside. [...] After he died, everyone had a theory about how the beautiful boy with such great aspirations had gone so wrong. Today, Mathis remembers him as “sensitive and obsessive. He felt things on his heart very deeply.” [...] “I’m looking at a photo of him now, oh wow…” Mathis says, briefly trailing off. “I think if River was still here, I think he’d be acting, directing, saving the environment, just living and hanging out. Oh gosh, wouldn’t that be nice?”

#river phoenix #samantha mathis #joaquin phoenix #rain phoenix #john phoenix #the thing called love #dan aykroyd #michael stipe

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yeoldontknow · 7 years

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Pusher

Author’s Note: i....wow. i just, wow. ive had this in a drafted form for a few months now and i guess tonight my blood just felt all of it all at once. Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader (oc; female) Summary: Kyungsoo is the city’s most notorious club owner. You are the most in demand drug dealer. You both want each other dead. But then, doesn’t everyone crave un petit mort? Genre: dark au (that reads almost like a gang/mafia au but isnt); smut Rating: NC-17 Warnings: guns; mentions of breathplay; explicit sexual situations Word Count: 2,502

The room makes you hungry. It’s Victorian in its design, amber wallpaper and a chandelier above a four-post bed that makes you cringe. It's gauche and unfamiliar, and you feel starved for the glass windows and hard lines of your modern apartment. But he's pulling you along, pulling you into a warm womb that's hot and heavy with anticipation, expectation, and the sour taste of finality.

You don't fit here. You don't fit with him. He's Vivienne Westwood suits and deep whiskey. You're a leather clad Vodka tonic that doesn't match the silk and satin life he's built, but he lives in contradictions - revels in the irony. The back of your mind aches with the knowledge that he wraps himself in a facade of polite informality, yet he has killed several of your employees, your friends, and he won't hesitate to kill you. He wears their blood on his hands like fine velvet gloves.

But you've killed just as many, and tonight you want to wear him.

Tugging on the hair you've pulled back with a band, you think about his ass in his finely tailored pants. You think about the drugs you sold him and the money he's moved to your bank account. You think about your clients, his clients - one and the same, really. You think about his throbbing dick and his wet mouth.

You think of how it came to this.

The alley makes your skin feel damp, clothes constricting the movements of your limbs like an amorous lover. This used to be your office, corner bound with a view to kill, but you promoted yourself. In lust and in your bed, men always asked your favourite position, eager to please, eager burn, and you always replied CEO. Pain was never cheap, and once you got a handle on demand you raked in the cash like collecting tears in a vile.

He’s bathed you in stereotype, on purpose. This meeting point exists to remind you that you are nothing to him, you are filth, squalor; this is his opinion, this is your full potential.

Glance at your watch. See that he’s twenty minutes late. Do Kyungsoo, the emperor of the downtown club scene. You are many things: a dealer, a chemist, a millionaire, occasionally murderer, a woman made for lipstick and bloodstains, but you are not tardy. Fondling the bullets in your pocket, you think of hunting him down and putting a hole between his eyes. It’s not the first time you’ve pictured it. It always makes you thirsty.

Eventually a brute of a man opens a metal door, and you blithely turn to see his face.

‘You Y/N?’ the guy asks.

He must be new.

‘Big man couldn’t show his own face?’ you shout, because you’re malicious and you’re bored.

‘Come with me,’ is all he says, although it does not escape you he matches your tone.

It’s when he drags his tongue along your jaw that you realize he never offered you a drink. You think you might like vodka or wine, anything to dull the senses.

His hands reach around to your back, fingers tugging at your belt loops when he finds your gun tucked gently between the waistband of your jeans and your back. When he fondles the metal he starts to smile, and you wonder if maybe he’s trying to make you feel nervous, like he’s peeled your skin back to make you vulnerable. He drags the barrel slowly along your spine, and you look into his eyes because everything about him is your distraction and you’re waiting for him to ask the question you know is coming.

‘Would you have used this on me?’ he asks slowly as he finally pulls the gun into view. You don’t look at it, only at him.

‘Maybe,’ you tease, because it’s true. You’ve been waiting to use it on him for years, and you can’t say you won’t in the morning. It would be breathtaking, the sight of him sucking the smoke from your gun.

Kyungsoo eyes the Semmerling like it’s a toy and cocks his eyebrow. ‘Do you trust me?’

‘No.’

He giggles like a boy, and places the gun to your temple. You don’t blink. You don’t flinch. You wonder if he feels a little disappointed that you’ve stared down the barrel of a gun enough times to know that no one pulls a trigger unless they’ve made a speech. Kyungsoo is too high strung for prose. Kyungsoo would never stain his fucking carpet.

‘Bang,’ he whispers, and he tosses the gun to the side, safety still on. It doesn’t escape your attention that you will be the death of one another. Your story doesn’t end with love, only sex and money and a power that neither of you are willing to share outside of a bed. Your story ends with the clashing of teeth and the tearing of skin.

Your story ends cold. Your story ends in blood.

He presides over everything, watching his clients with a detached sort of interest befit for a monument. Suit, tie, eyes almost as black as the chair he sits in, and strong knuckles that have shattered cheekbones. You’ve called him the Marble King, and here, on a VIP balcony overlooking a dance floor, he fits the title. A gargoyle waiting to be shattered, you’re excited to see what it’s like to break myths with your bare hands.

When you look at him, he’s grinning in the shadows over the rim of a glass, lips full and plump and begging to be torn apart. He waves his hand, gesticulating to a chair you don’t want to take, but you sit anyway and it doesn’t make you any less tense. To your right, a girl is dancing with….someone. A stranger. Her boyfriend. He drags his fingers up her tights like he’s trying to rip his way in. You wonder if she’s drunk. You wonder if she’s legal. You don’t really care about either of those things, but it still makes you wet.

‘Thank you for meeting me.’ His voice is cold, yet somehow remains rich and creamy - seductive without a purpose.

You turn back to him with a scowl, legs crossing beneath the table at the sight of his hard stare. Kyungsoo is dangerous, and you’ve always had a penchant for fondling the deadly.

‘Thank you for paying me.’ You pull out your phone, impatient, and so does he. The action holds him to the deal, the bank transfer, the very reason you are here at all. You pull up your account, waiting for him to make a move. His fingers barely twitch and one single refresh shows retribution in five zeroes.

‘I’m a man of my word,’ he sighs. The phone slides back into his coat pocket and you think of him as a snake. Idly, ou wonder how the scales of his skin would taste beneath your tongue.

‘Delete my information,’ you demand, gaze flashing to his chest and wishing you could pull his sternum away to see his beating heart. ‘Now. I want to see you do it.’

Kyungsoo narrows his eyes, but they glide over your figure like they’re calculating all your softest parts. He eyes you like he wants to cut you down. ‘Trust me, Princess. After this evening, you will have absolutely nothing that I want.’

You lean forward and you can smell him. A whole mouthful of his cologne accosts you and you swallow it, let yourself get drunk on it. ‘So what’s this then? A one time deal? They’ll come crawling back for more. You can’t handle the distribution.’ Your eyes glaze over the people dancing, drinking, drowning in excess to forget the trauma of their identity. He needs them. He needs you.

He leans forward, too, cocking his head to the side like he’s weighing your irrelevance against his desire for more money. ‘You aren’t the only dealer in L.A., honey. The necessity of you is sorely finite.’

His voice is a whisper that melts the iron of your indifference back to flesh. His voice is alcohol and misery, and just right temperature to burn you alive.

He undresses you like he’s skinning you alive, but you don’t put up a fight. It’s your apathy that startles you the most, more than his deft fingers and your swollen clit. There’s bullet holes where your passion used to be, and you never learned how love the good natured and the true. Soft words seemed to fracture on your tongue. But you didn’t come here for this.

You think of the money and you think of his nails scratching down your thighs. You think of the wetness of his tongue as he leaves hot, open mouth kisses along your skin, and the way he makes you feel absolutely drenched between your folds.

‘Did you pay me for the drugs or did you pay me for this?’ you ask, voice breathy and enjoying the sight of him on his knees. The position isn’t vulnerable, not the way it usually is. There’s no subservience in his eyes, just a dead sort curiosity gathered like a cesspool.

‘I paid you to serve your purpose.’ He doesn’t look up at you. He inspects your kneecap and you wonder if he’s thinking about breaking it.

You roll your eyes. ‘I’m not a prostitute.’

‘I don’t need a prostitute.’

Languidly, he drags one finger over your slit, gathering the wetness that has pooled over time. He keeps his eyes on you as he pulls his hand back, sucking on his fingers with hollowed cheeks.

‘I don’t need foreplay,’ you reply, one eyebrow cocked.

‘The money was the foreplay.’

‘You and I are far more similar than we’ve been giving each other credit for.’ He leans back in his chair, smiling, and part of you wants to lick the light off his teeth.

‘Are we?’ You’re snide and sharp, counting the turns of his glass as he absentmindedly spins it on the table, because you are a loaded gun and you never learned to be gentle. ‘I’m not pretentious and I’m not arrogant. I know what I’m about. And I don’t dress like I’m a fucking politician.’

Kyungsoo tilts his head back and laughs, the sound silenced by a heavy, rolling bass. ‘I think you could benefit from a lesson in style, Princess. Perhaps some tutelage from the design of your drugs.’

‘Chemistry,’ you spit, crossing your arms over your chest.

‘You’re highly adept at one type, perhaps...you’ve excelled in other areas as well?’

It doesn’t take you long to process his insinuation, to remember he wets his dick on risk.

You absorb the light of the club, skin white and pale. You’re a chameleon of malintent and he glows an impossible shade of gold. It comes from beneath his skin, inside his veins. He’s swallowed the Los Angeles sun, forcing himself and your business into the shadows as he turns daylight to ash on his tongue. It makes you want him. It makes you hate him. He’s the hot butter to your cold knife and you can’t wait to tear your way through him.

He’s a bad idea. This was a bad idea.

You’re addicted to bad ideas.

A balance is struck when the two of you crawl onto the satin sheets. You nip at his ear like you want to eviscerate him. There’s a hunger somewhere in you that means to consume him, and this is where you start - with the soft, fleshy bits of him that will roll of your tongue before you start gnawing on his bones. And he pulls at your back and shoulders like he wants to climb inside you, wear you like an evening suit with your hair as his tie.

Sex with him is grotesque, wet and violent and ugly like war. You grind your hips onto the thick hardness of his cock, nails pulling at his hips as you sit on top, and you wish his organs would spill into your waiting hand. He pushes at you, knocking you backward to the pillows to hover above you. Like this, he is prideful - perhaps, spiteful. With strong hands, he pushes your thighs far apart, lets the cool air tease the wetness of your folds for just a moment, before pumping himself twice and sheathing himself inside you with one, hard thrust.

And you, wide eyed and almost waiting to feel him die, wear him like armor. You wear him with a vicious, brutal smile.

He dominates over you like a champion, all fire and pride and hate. His thrusts are hard and pointed, leaving no room for intimacy or kindness. For this, you are glad. With every move of his hips, he grunts. With every upward thrust of your own, you drag your nails down his back and hope you are leaving marks. You hope he wears you for days.

‘What if I killed you?’ he asks, sliding his hands to your throat. The heel of his palms press gently, a warning.

‘I’d come back to life for you,’ you say, flatly. You’re waiting for him to push down or squeeze, his vindictive smile burning above you as your world turns black.

Part of you thinks about flipping him, about crushing him beneath your weight and letting him know that this is your game, that these are your rules. But you’ve played from the ground before, and have won with your hands tied, so instead you sit up and smirk at how he keeps his hands still, neither gentle nor aggressive, a mere warning of possibility. He falls back onto his thighs, and you keep him tight inside you as you lean forward to bite his lip.

Your teeth pierce the skin and he starts to bleed, you do what he won’t. It’s easy to break pretty things; they bleed easier, faster, sweeter, and he’s no different. You aren’t shocked by how quickly his lip gives way to iron. The skin of his hands is rough and calloused but his lips revel in decadence and you’re the first abrasive thing they’ve kissed.

‘I’d pull you down to hell with me.’ You suck the last of his blood from your tongue, tasting gunpowder, alcohol, and bitter disinterest. He’s every meal you’ve ever wanted, and you welcome him home.

‘Romantic,’ he mutters.

You bounce roughly on top of him, releasing one pleasured hiss as he nearly screams. Pleasure, pain, it doesn’t matter. It belongs to you. This belongs to you.

Kyungsoo guides you out of the club towards a car, a Maserati with tinted windows and red interior. A valet stands next to it, handing out the keys to a chauffeur and both avert their eyes as you slide in like gliding into hell.

Neither of you speak. You don’t touch.

A silent agreement is signed as the tires pull into the driveway of his Bel Air estate.

Tonight you both will live.

Tonight you both will die.

#kyungsoo x reader #kpoptrashtag #kwriterskollection #noonanet #do x reader #kyungsoo scenario #kyungsoo au #kyungsoo fanfic #kyungsoo fanfiction #do au #do fanfiction #do scenario #do fanfic #exo scenario #exo au #exo fanfic #do kyungsoo

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hereticaloracles · 7 years

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Fuckstrology: Aqueerius

Helios– Biiiiiiiiiiiitch…. Let’s talk about some Aqueers (Aqueri? Aquariums?). Now, I have a lot to say on the matter, as I tend to have a type, and it is typically Aquas. They are like catnip to me, and I cannot resist them. Aquarians have this intoxicating, magnetic draw that just pulls you in. They are iconoclasts, rebels, and they have really terrible hair most of the time. Like, really bad.

Now, this whole post is going to be biased, but then again so is the series in general. I really, really, really like Aquas. That being said, there has not been a one of the bastards who hasn’t ended up breaking my heart. Still, they are the ones I have had the greatest attraction to and chemistry with. Lord, protect me from what I want….

Aquas are fun, sexy, and flirty. Unfortunately, they do this all without trying or being aware of it- They just think that they are being friendly and are shocked to wake up and they are accidentally married. When they actually are interested in someone, literally all their charm and poise go flying out the window and they become dumb, deaf, and awkward as all hell. Also for some reason, they lose control over their speaking volume. The jury’s still out on that one. When they actually can seal the deal and take someone home, Aquariums are actually really great in bed. They want to make sure that they are pleasing their partners and that they make the sex something to remember.

Okay, now onto the part you all live for- My trashy romps with the signs and how I failed to make it work with them. *Shoots whiskey* So, after my ludicrous failure with my Capricorn ex, I kind of fell into a hookup/fwb thing with my first real Aqua ex. I’m not in the mood to skirt around anything so let’s call him TJ because that’s his name. This bastard gave me some of the greatest sex of my life, I won’t hide it. He was damn good in bed, and we were both into each other. Neither of us liked commitment much though, so I left his queeny, Holy Spearit- loving ass behind. Thus started a torrid, on-again-off-again thing with us. The annoying thing is that the universe seemed to be hell-bent on us being together, having me literally run into him in the most ridiculous scenarios and occasions. He asked me to go on vacation with him to a resort in Key West, and we had a lot of fun (including my first orgy and the first time I ever hooked up with a porn star!) unfortunately I was still under 21, so I couldn’t truly drink or do things like going into the strip clubs they went into. It did, however, cure me of any remaining feelings that I had for the asshole, as he would literally bring people to fuck him while I was in the bed we were sharing. He also didn’t like the fact that I was far more popular at the resort than he was (What can I say? Tops have more fun!) and ended up sticking him with the entire bill for the hotel, drinks, and food. Fun fact, he is also where the rule came from to never do the chart of anyone I was dating/fucking, because when I did his it made it weird and helped the relationship to decay. Later on, we would continue to randomly connect in the most unintentional times and ways, but never did we truly connect again. I gave him some great sex but never made the mistake of getting invested.

This was a reoccurring theme with me, as it turns out. I just remembered another Aqua ex, this one even further back. Let’s call him B, and he could honestly be considered the first guy I ever fell for (which in hindsight explains SO MUCH). Now, he and I went to high school together (I know, I know. Let me tell the story) and I ended up falling in with his group after crushing hard on my lovely Sagittarius best friend, who was the first person I ever came out to as bisexual. There was a party at his house where unspeakable acts occurred that will only be referred to as “Mexico”. I fell in love with him shortly after that, but there was a problem- He had a girlfriend. In fact, his current girlfriend was the result of him cheating on his previous girlfriend, and apparently that was his pattern. We spent a lot of time together, and he knew how I felt. One night he confessed that he felt the same (while we were walking to his girlfriend’s place), and from there we started sneaking around behind everyone’s back. We kept this up till he graduated, and it was some of the best sex I have ever had. We also had some pretty explosive arguments as well. The emotional connection was far more one-sided on my part, but again I was a high-schooler.

Last but not least, we have my longest-running relationship, J. I dated this guy for almost two years. It was honestly magical. We got together because of our mutual love over nerd stuff, and I seduced him with Doctor Who quotes over Grindr. We had an extremely emotionally fulfilling relationship, and for the first time, I had someone to show off to friends and could honestly make a part of my life. I won over his friends as well, and it felt like something with some actual potential. Hell, we even went to London together! Only one problem- We would never have sex. In the entire time we dated, we had sex one and a half times. In two years. I know, its absolutely nuts, but I was young and in love. And I was incredibly faithful, even when we opened up our relationship to other people. He was incredibly unstable emotionally and was prone to manic mood swings- which he would take out on me. I was a prisoner in the relationship, and he was brutally emotionally abusive, yet still, as it came to an end I agonized over whether I should or shouldn’t leave him. The final straw came when I wanted him to meet my parents on my birthday, but he decided that he would rather spend the weekend with a 350 lb ginger bear (large fat and hairy gay man, for the uninitiated) than spend my birthday with me. So I broke up with him on my birthday. I came to find out later that he was not being faithful to me, and we never had sex because he was only attracted to black men, I was the only white guy he ever dated. After we broke up, he went off the deep end and started working for Amway. He alienated all his friends, and no one spoke to him so he came crawling back to me. I tried to be friends again for a while, but he got incredibly upset at me for taking a job opportunity that came suddenly and would need me to relocate to California for a while. He called me every vile name in the book as I left him in the dust to go recover in the sun, where I met my porn star ex. Last I heard J was dating a meth-addicted ex-felon, who was both a drag queen and a stripper, but who also was extremely keen to get me in bed since he hit me up several times on Grindr to ask me to “load up his poz hole with my white stud load”. Also, he sent me his dick pics- I’m not impressed; The myth about black guys isn’t always true. Best of luck boys!!!

Artemis- So, for our fans that do not know, yes, I, Artemis, am very much an Aquarian. It is quite tragic, honestly, that it seems to be common fashion for Aquarians not to fuck other Aquarians. “Been there done that,” I guess is what we usually think, unless the fellow Aqua has some strangeness in the chart that we haven’t gotten a taste of yet. We like the new, we like the curious, and we are not done exploring until the day you slam the cover of our casket. And then some, because, you know, the next dimension we move on to probably has it’s own set of sexual adventures…

I reached out to a few ex lovers because, although I’ve never fucked a fellow Aquarian, they have all obviously been through the ringer with me:

Libra Ex, “Go fuck yourself, you cold, selfish bastard.”

Alrighty then, we are off to a lovely start. I mean, I would have guessed there would be much more to say from the perspective of a pillow queen! They are the one getting the whole damn show, after all. And although she may not admit it, I believe our brain sex was off the hook. And fuck, do Aquarians love brain sex! One of our favorite past times is seeing how hot and bothered we can get someone without even touching them. King/Queen/Kahleesi of experimentation, Aqua is the scientist with laser eyes who inspects your every frac(tal)tional movement for all of your soft spots. The water-bearers are represented by the Angel (or perfect human), perched high above in the clouds, observing all of you mere mortals as you go about our business of flesh. Aqua is very much into the eroticism of distance. For us, the mind is flesh and eroticism starts there. And speaking of voyeurism…

Capricorn Ex, “…………. you’re the reason I’m like this. You’re the reason I will never feel complete again.”

Aye, this Cappy ex and I participated in some strange voyeuristic acts. Hell, I still want that video tape back. If not, I hope she fucking burned it in a funeral pyre alongside my fucking heart and all of the things I ever gave her. Both Aqua and Capricorn have giant walls of ice that you must get through in order to experience the deep passion that is brewing underneath. We both want to know if you can handle what is behind the dam before we let the flood gates down. This is usually why Aquarians are thought of as cold and uncaring – because we know it has to be light and fun or we will suck you into some fucking black hole with our sexuality that you can never come out of again. We wont just have your body, oh no – we don’t stop at that. We want your mind and especially that soul of yours.

Aqua knows that distance is needed to build sexual energy. An Aqua will prod and tease you in all the places where she knows you can’t touch her (like work, school, your parent’s house) until you have no choice but to take her in the back of the car, at noon, on the side of the road somewhere. And that’s just the way we like it.

As a side note, what in the fucking hell does that response even mean? Is she now totally and completely insatiable? Is she desperately filling the void I left inside of her with bad sex and office hours?

Capricorn Ex, “I knew you would hit me up again. I’ve been waiting.”

BAIL BAIL BAIL BAIL BAIL WHY DID I THINK CONTACTING HER WAS A GOOD IDEA? WHY WHY WHY?

I didn’t even bother contacting my Cancer ex because who the fuck wants to deal with those water works. I mean, I love emotions and intensity, but if it’s just emotions with no intellectual structure surrounding them then it is literally pointless for an Aquarian. We will run for the fucking hills if we don’t have that mind connection when water signs vomit their love all over us. Fuck, I love poetry and love letters, but not without catering to my sapiosexual nature first. But hell, I do remember that our sex was very good… that is, until I ran out of things to talk / argue / debate / analyze / muse about. Then the sex dried up as well. I mean, fuck, we are an air sign after all.

Aries Ex, “I will say you give amazing fucking head and it was always fun eating a ton of mushrooms and fucking for hours, but I thought you told me I was dead to you and I should never contact you again?”

Oh right, I totally did. And sex on psychedelics, I mean, who doesn’t want to try that at least once? Aquas are forever the ones who march to the beat of their own drum, and our sexuality is no different. We really don’t give a fuck what is appropriate or conventional in love making. We will do whatever strikes our fancy, and we will never stop surprising our partner. Aquarius is known as the sign of kink for good reason. We are the masters of experimentation, so don’t ever be afraid to bring something up to us that you would like to try. We have probably thought about it before and have an instruction manual to go with it.

I contacted my Taurus ex, but I think she is still sore about me forgetting to take my Buddhist mantra ring off before fucking her… I mean, I was super in the moment?

Taurus ex, “If you want to know what sex with an Aquarian is like, maybe go fuck yourself.”

So, as you can see, Aquarians kinda burn bridges after relationships / sexual encounters. The thing is, we go in very intensely (har har) so when we cut ties we need to sever completely so we can go all in intensely with the next lover. So we get two kinds of exes: the kind that never wants to speak to us again, and the kind that stalks the living shit out of us for the rest of our lives.

Leo Ex, “Did I ever tell you that you took my virginity?”

*click*

So, yes, us Aqua have a strange sort of swagga. Who doesn’t like the hot loner coasting through town on their way to distant lands? Aquarius is a visitor from somewhere far beyond here, and their brand of love making is strange and exciting. We can see it in their mannerisms, their likes and dislikes, their eccentric way of communication. They are not from here, and we are intrigued. And our earthly ways are intriguing to them as well. They really just want to know how everything feels, how everything tastes, and are all for the experimentation between pleasure and pain.

Pisces Ex, “I’m still not sure why you never did sex magick with me. We had so much potential. We were born from the same star, you and I.”

Maybe, you know, the whole melding of the souls thing with someone I wasn’t whole heartedly into wasn’t something I wanted to take lightly? I know Pisces just wants to dive into the well of the world, but at least get me some emotional fucking lube first, gawed damn.

So the list goes on and on and on, but I decided to opt for some good news for the finale 😉

Current Gemini Girlfriend, “I don’t even know where to start. One minute we’ll be staring into each other’s eyes, getting lost in love, and the next I’m thrown on the bed and we turn into beasts who can’t distinguish fabric from flesh. If I have to use one word: amazing.”

Aquarians tend to be severely misunderstood. They call the water-bearer heartless, alien, off-beat, and contrary. They say she is a stubborn ice queen, prepared to dissect each of your layers until she can arrive at some self deluded state of “knowing.” What they don’t understand about Aquarius is that she feels TOO much. She feels everything and everyone all the time, and must place a wall up or she will swallow everything up like the sea. She is the veins, the rivers, the tributaries pumping from the passionate, lion heart of Leo. Her eroticism is all encompassing. Her love is the force of the entire planet.

Fuckstrology: Aqueerius was originally published on Heretical Oracles

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