positively polished

☀️ I feel hella cute today so I’m sharing that cute with all of you ☀️

Dear men of all nationalities,

you are all amazing and deserve love and respect. This is for..

Chinese men

Mexican men

Spanish men

German men

African men

Australian men

American men

Afghan men

Argentinian men

Belgian men

Bolivian men

Brazilian men

Cambodian men

Cameroonian men

Canadian men

Chilean men

Colombian men

Costa Rican men

Cuban men

Danish men

Dominican men

Ecuadorian men

Egyptian men

Salvadoran men

English men

Estonian men

Ethiopian men

Finnish men

French men

German men

Ghanaian men

Greek men

Guatemalan men

Haitian men

Honduran men

Indonesian men

Iranian men

Irish men

Israeli men

Italian men

Japanese men

Jordanian men

Kenyan men

Laotian men

Latvian men

Lithuanian men

Malaysian men

Moroccan men

Dutch men

New Zealander men

Nicaraguan men

Norwegian men

Panamanian men

Paraguayan men

Peruvian men

Filipino men

Filipino men

Polish men

Portuguese men

Puerto Rican men

Romanian men

Russian men

Saudi men

Scottish men

Korean men

Swedish men

Swiss men

Taiwanese men

Tajik men

Thai men

Turkish men

Ukrainian men

British men

Uruguayan men

Venezuelan men

Vietnamese men

Welsh men

Mixed men

and any other nationalities I may have missed

You are all so handsome and amazing and you should never let anyone judge you on your nationality.

Take My Hand

( let’s see where we wake up tomorrow )

Anonymous requested: Jungkook/Reader + one of them has amnesia and how they deal with it
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader
Genre: Angst/Fluff
Word Count: 11,663
Author’s Note: I made myself hurt writing the outline, which ended up quite long and intricate so I apologize. Title taken from Adam Levine’s “Lost Stars”—although I do prefer the Jungkook cover :3

Summary: In which you lose your memory in a car crash, and Jungkook desperately tries to keep both of your lives intertwined. This in itself proves to be a challenge, especially when you can only remember him as the idol you once adored from afar.

.

Jungkook never paid too much attention to those moments in life where he would figuratively hit the wall and knock the wind out of himself, until he gets the call from the hospital. And then he’s running, dashing fast and wild as quickly as his legs can take him, his mind clouded with so much fear, so much apprehension that even when he can no longer breathe he forces himself to keep running. He feels as if he might lose his mind, already grappling with deniability over his situation, the only thing that can remain consistent throughout his mind is you.

“Are you Jeon Jungkook, Y/N’s emergency contact?”

Jungkook stills, pausing in his momentary movement to wipe the sweat that has formed across his face in recovery from the intense dance practice session all the boys have just ended. “Uh, yes I am,” He answers, furrowing his eyebrows together at the seriousness of the situation, his disposition changing in such a drastic manner that all the other boys stop what they’re doing as well to watch the maknae. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m letting you know that Y/N was recently involved in a car accident and was rushed here under critical condition. She’s undergoing surgery now but—!”

“I’ll be right there,” Jungkook interrupts in a breath, the panicking settling in before the gravity of what has just happened to you really weighs in his mind. He doesn’t wait for the nurse on the other end of the line before he’s hanging up and pocketing his phone. His heart starts to race, making the blood pump quicker as air leaves and enters his lungs at an alarming quickened pace. “I have to go,” He relays to the guys, grabbing his jacket off the couch.

“Woah, woah, Jungkookie, what’s going on?” Jimin inquires, straightening from his seated position on the polished wooden floor. “Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not,” Jungkook says, desperately trying to pull himself from the conversation so he could make his way to the hospital. “Y/N got into a car accident. She’s in surgery right now, I have to go—I have to see how she’s doing.”

“Let me come with you,” Namjoon interjects, already joining Jungkook’s side, jacket on.

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair. “Whatever. I’m running, so keep up.”

Namjoon dismisses Jungkook’s words for stress as he merely nods, following the younger boy out of the studio and dashing down the street. The hospital you have been rushed to is nearby, thank god, only a few blocks away from where Jungkook stands, but it feels like miles stretched on for miles. He runs, runs, runs faster than his legs can possibly carry him, huffing and puffing but never quite moving fast enough.

Keep reading

Witch tip

HATE TO CLEAN AND ORGANIZE? CANT FIND TIME FOR SPELLS?

Incorporate your witchcraft into cleaning and organizing!

NOTE: Open the windows and clap loudly to let the spirits who may be in there out before you begin throwing herbs, salt or salt water around!

CLEAN:
-light candles and create an energizing atmosphere to help get you going

–make a pot of good smelling herbs and spices on the stove to simmer while cleaning, it clears out bad energy

-use lavender water to clear away negativity, relieve anxiety spells

-polish on positive spells with lemon water or lemon oil

-clean out closets and junk drawers to release negativity, rid yourself of unwanted
characteristics or people in your life

-add a few cedar chips or moth balls to the vacuum bag, vacuum up unwanted spirits and ghosts

-sweep your home or room counterclockwise or towards the east to get rid of negative entities and negative energy

- collect old cobwebs with a twig and hold them in a jar for spells

- spray rose water around your home to bring peace and love into the home

-scrub pots and pans or a bathtub to curse something or someone and then wash the cleaner away to cleanse yourself of residual effects

-wash clothes and take away negativity

-charge clothes in a dryer or hang on a line in the sun for positivity

-throw cleansing herbs, cedar or salt on floors to cleanse them and then vacuum away that negativity

-spray corners of the house with holy water, salt water, rose or lavender to make sure you cleanse rooms of negative energy and spirits

ORGANIZE:
Think of organizing as recharging and aligning your home to positive forces

-making beds and straightening makes you feel more magickal and powerful

-give away used items, donate or recycle for release and positivity spells

-stack things for good intentions such as confidence, abundance and joy

- hang or fold clothes.enchant with incense or spray lightly with rose or lavender water

-make sigils for organization using water and draw them on drawers and closets to help them to remain organized


Once you begin to clean and organize in this manner you will begin to look forward to tidying your home.

One thing I liked in Hidden Figures (Well, I liked a lot of things in Hidden Figures, but I’m talking about this one point) is how they portrayed the character of Al Harrison, the “moderate white” supervisor: ‘Colorblind’ in his personal treatment of  Katherine Goble, yes, but not attempting to make any changes in how she is treated until he began running into problems himself.  Content to let the segregation stand because he can tell himself “I’m not treating her poorly”.

That ‘Colored’ coffee pot was in the work room from the second day of Katherine’s service, he must have seen it every time he walked through the floor, but he never peeled off the label.  He never even noticed that there wasn’t a ‘Colored Ladies Room’ in the building, and if he did notice he didn’t consider just what that meant for Katherine.  It wasn’t until he realized just how long it was taking Katherine to go to the bathroom, until he saw that he couldn’t get the full use out of her as long as the facilities remained segregated, that he made any changes.  That scene of him hammering down the segregation sign which was used in all the trailers, and which did occur in the film, didn’t happen until her problems became his problems.

Because that’s often (Even primarily) how it is in the real world: People of privilege who say “This is wrong” and “I disagree” but who don’t makes waves because “this is the way things are”.  Who shake their head and make consoling noises and say “I’m with you”, but don’t make any kind of effort.  Who, ultimately, tell oppressed people of all types to “wait your turn” because their stability and comfort and ease is more important than upsetting the status quo.  Al is not demonized, the film doesn’t say “See, he’s actually THE BIGGEST RACIST OF THEM ALL!”, but it just leaves it laying out in the open that he wouldn’t have taken these steps if he wasn’t forced to.

Contrast him with Karl Zielinski, the engineer who encourages Mary Jackson.  Zielinski supports her because he’s suffered his own discrimination–different from hers but very much present–and so he knows both the obstacles she will face, and that she can overcome them.  He knows that things won’t just get better by themselves, they need to bull forward every single step, and so he uses his position to encourage and help because now he has the position.  Being a Polish Jew has taught him the need to never allow ‘the way things are’ to serve as an excuse for inaction.

Al Harrison only stepped up and did the right thing after he realized that not doing the right thing was causing him problems.

Sense me (OT7xReader)

Park Jimin is part of a cluster of eight people. In which he wonders if he’s worth them and it climaxes in a big cluster-fuck (^^°) or when Lana tried to make it short and ended up with the longest fucking smut ever….

Warning: Smut, Orgy (Poly relationship), oral sex, vaginal sex, girl on boy, boy on boy, boyxgirlxboy, anal sex, double penetration, it’s basically filthy smut

word count: 9263

xxx Lana

Disclaimer: the idea of sensates or a cluster like that is taken from a show called Sense8 which you should check out! 


Originally posted by ki-raa

It’s silent in the building, as it’s asked of the people. They walk past pictures and sculptures, past portraits and jewelry from old days. Some are naughty, take quick pictures with their phones. Probably to share with family and friends, or to put on their social media. He doesn’t move as he watches that one painting for seemingly hours. His dark chocolate eyes, following the soft curves of the female face. Tracing carefully, as if it were his fingers touching the strands gently, each and every single curl that falls and frames the face. His gaze dances across exposed shoulders, the beautiful dress of the 15h’s exposing it and a little bit of plump painted cleavage. She looks so real to him and yet so surreal at the same time. His ring adorned hands, clasped in between his spread legs, elbows resting on top of his nicely shaped thighs. Despite his beauty, he could not find himself comparable to the others. He wasn’t tall, he wasn’t strong, he wasn’t quick or smart, he wasn’t cunning or full of wisdom. He was just an actor, someone who had faked so many lives for the big screen, that he didn’t know how to live his own one. And although he was no longer just by himself in his mind and heart, he had never felt more lonely than in that moment. 

His eyes no longer being able to take the woman’s perfection, dropping to his polished shoes. Sensing the man, even before his vision conjured up his image – he never really would understand how it was possible. How any of this was possible. “What is this place?” the man asks curiously, his head tilted. Black hair is spread in a whirlwind around his head, but gelled nicely out of his forehead and up. A mask hangs loosely around his neck, fingers peeking through the holes in his gloves made of leather. It is always an all black ensemble, with the occasional white in between. “It’s the Louvre” he replies and turns his head from his downward position, to look over to the man. There is no one else in the room, so no one could think of him as insane. Once again it is there. The thought what other’s would think of him. “It’s nice…” he simply says. Though the young doubting-man is sure, the other can pick up on his self doubt and self loathing.

”Do you come here often?” he asks next and leans back. His hands splay on top of the marble the bench is made of. “Whenever I need to think, I guess…” there is no sense in lying. The predicament they are in is all about sensing. Feeling the others, hearing the others, seeing them and visiting them. He had stood against it, had accepted as last of them. Not wanting anyone to look into his head, the messed up things they could have discovered, his uselessness to their cause. Whatever that may be. Silence falls between both men, engulfed in centuries old paintings and possessions of kings and queens some long forgotten, some barely remembered. Others as an example for humanities failure. “Woah!” it is another voice, someone else joining them in the quiet room. “We’re in France right?” the boyish voice says. His almond shaped eyes open wide, as his head turns left and right, up and down. Taking all of it in and wandering about the room. “I’ve never been outside my country…” he informs the two men on the marble bench. As he walks as close as no one else but him can, to the paintings. His fingers slide over their surface, but he can not touch them, can not know how they felt. Because the one who actually is in the Louvre has never done so and therefore did not provide the memory of the painting’s feeling underneath his finger’s tips. 

“And you can come here every time you like?” he asks, turns his head to look at the older boy on the bench. “Whenever I can afford to have some time for myself” he says and for a second he forgets why he’s even in the Louvre. The youngest has that effect on people, makes them forget everything and focus on his childlike wonder for a few moments. He sits down on the floor, right in between the two men and looks up at the french one. “Are you alright?” he asks. His lips are formed into a tiny pout and he has his head tilted to the side, almost looking like a puppy. He hates it, hates that even with nothing, with his own problems. The other has time to worry about him. “It’s not that….” the youngest says and takes a deep breath. “I just can’t see the bad things you see about yourself…” from the side there is a sharp intake of breath, the silence weighing heavier on them. “It’s because we’re in different worlds” he doesn’t mean for it to come out as sharply as it did, or for the other to flinch back a little. But he makes it happen and it’s another thing he ads on the long list of things, he fucks up on a daily basis. “It’s the first time you actually think of yourself…” the youngest says and reaches out to touch the top of his still clasped hands. He could swear on the grave of his mother, that he was able to feel that touch.

”Just because our problems are of different nature, doesn’t mean they aren’t equally important…” he says and his lips form into a small version of his usually radiant boxy-grin. “I am content with who I am, but I am not with the circumstances I live in. While you are content with the circumstances you live in, but not the person you are….” phrased like that, he thinks he begins to understand. Though it will never stop his self-loathing from coming to the surface, he thinks he can see where the other is coming from. “Taehyung is right” he had been silent for the conversation of the two, but he feels he should say something now. He is bad at breaking the ice, but he can do the silent comfort. However sometimes he knows the words to say, sometimes he knows how to verbally comfort someone. “You know what I did, after meeting each and every one of you?” he asks and the two younger ones shake their heads. They can look into his mind and find out, but they like to converse with one another. After all you can barely keep any privacy with eight people in your head, but you can mutually agree to some privacy. “I searched for every single one of you…. on information and location. I looked up what kind of people, were connected to me. And wanna know what I found out?” they nod. “I found out, that I have been graced with great people. People that can give me the things I lack, that can make me feel whole. Like no one else will ever. They… you… compliment me on a level that no one ever will, you are part of me…. You are the parts I needed to find myself…” it is mushy, truth be told it is chick-flick talk. But it is the honest truth and sometimes that outweighs the moment of embarrassment. 

“You saved Yoongi’s life…. you helped me, when that officer nearly found me….” his eyes are small crescents as he smiles brightly at him. “You are more than you give yourself credit for Jimin” his eyes water. He can’t help it. It hits too close to home, wondering if he can even offer something to his cluster, if he can help in a way. He has felt useless, knowing the others are so efficient, are so helpful in situations of dire need. “We don’t have many channels where I live… but I was able to find one where they play your movies” Taehyung sounds proud of himself. He smiles just as brightly as the eldest at Jimin. “Hobi helped me get it for free” his smile turns mischievously. “That was the least I could do….” the other mumbles and rubs the back of his neck with his right hand, the black leather almost merging with his black hair. Salty tears are still gathered at the corner of Jimin’s eyes, but he subtly wipes them away with his thumbs. “My… m-my movies?” his eyes go wide and he blushes to the root of his hair. People would think he is used to people knowing who he is and for his movies to be seen everywhere. But the thought of his cluster knowing his movies and watching them. Or god forbid those horrible telenovelas he has played in. He squirms in his seat and is stopped with a hand to his shoulder. Turning his head upwards, to see the only woman of the whole cluster. You squeeze his shoulder. “I sensed your distress… are you alright?”

Taehyung jumps off of the ground and sticks to your side like a Koala, telling you that he and “Hobi” are in the middle of helping him. And that they have it all under control. Pink tongue darts out to moisten your dry lips, you smile warmly. There is no other way to react to Taehyung but a kind and warm smile. “I see… then you don’t need me, do you?” it is meant to be teasing. But for a split second you forget your hand is on Jimin’s shoulder and you squeeze a little. Of course the sunset haired actor takes note of it and reaches out with his hand. Warm and bigger than yours, yet smaller than Taehyung’s it covers your own hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look in your direction, but squeezes your hand in return. Silent reassuring that you are needed, that you are as much part of his saving as the others are. “When all of this happened, I thought I was going insane. All these attractive people and only I can see them. Places I never been to, things I didn’t know and could suddenly do. It was overwhelming to say the least….” Hoseok spoke into the silence, Jimin’s focus completely on him, unbothered by the people that pass him and wonder why that young man stares off into the distance, holding his shoulder. You keep your hand on Jimin’s shoulder, as you sit down next to him. Taehyung once again resuming his position on the polished floor. Light reflecting off of the clean floor, like it would from a beautiful pearl.

“I remember the first one of us I met!” you exclaim and blush a little, as you think back to Yoongi. He had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of your shower, blood pouring from a split lip. You can still recall the pain from his injury, the anger and confusion of his. Until he noticed your nude state and had yelled at you to cover up. “I’ve never been yelled at in my own shower….” the other sensates laugh. And once again Jimin does not notice, how people watch him laugh by himself. He doesn’t care, he’s with his loved ones, with the only people who will fully understand him. “It’s not my fault you were butt naked….” the lazy drawl comes from Hoseok’s right and there he stands, wearing pajama bottoms and shirtless. Min Yoongi had been fast asleep, when his alarm had woken him for work. Just to simply stand in the fucking Louvre of all places, listening to the idiots talk. He will never admit that Jimin’s feelings had woken him, even out of the sleep state he’d been in. Way before his alarm could have. How he hates that Jimin doesn’t laugh as he usually does, or smiles as he usually does. That Jimin needed a room like that one in the Louvre, to think. “But Yoongi! It was my shower!” you protest and cross your arms over your chest. Jimin’s hand dropping back to his lap, but the touch of your shoulder to his, preventing him from morning the loss of your warmth. Hoseok’s knee touches his, as the second eldest spreads his legs for comfort. The currently silver haired just rolls his eyes, not even dignifying you with an answer, for you are right and all of you knew.

Timezones might separate him and his cluster, as well as oceans and miles of land. But never has he felt closer to anyone. Not even people he had grown up with, not even his own flesh and blood of family. “Isn’t it too late for all of you to be awake?” Sensible Seokjin. You know without looking at your phone or even looking up his country, that it is half past eleven at night. He is probably on the nightshift again, or another 24h shift. “But it’s barely one am in Iceland…” you tell him, with a bright smile. A scolding is on the tip of Seokjin’s tongue, but it never passes his lips. He doesn’t go into any of your minds without your permission, but feelings are less easy to prevent from intercepting than thoughts were. Which was why he knows you don’t want to talk about it, but you can’t sleep. It does unsettle him slightly. “What about the rest of you?” he raises an eyebrow. “You’re not my mother, but it’s just almost 9 and I am on my way to work. Any complaints?” the tall light brown haired doesn’t have any and turns his attention on the rest. “It’s not even six in Dubai, Jinnie…” Taehyung’s boxy grin is still in place, especially when Seokjin is distractedly carding his fingers through Tae’s bleached blonde hair. “I just got done with work…” Hoseok has his eyes closed head tilted to the ceiling, listening on the others that are around him. “We’re almost complete…” you murmur and wonder where Jeongguk and Namjoon are. It is pretty early in Washington, which means Namjoon is probably at work, while it has to be around the same time as yours in Seoul. You wondered if Jeongguk is awake. Just on cue both stand in front of the marble bench, next to Seokjin they complete the half closed circle. 

Jimin smiles apologetically at the two, the thought of //Now I gathered them all here, because of my silly problems// crosses his mind. Alerting all the seven sensates around him to his track of mind. “I was finishing the painting for tomorrow’s class. I didn’t know what was lacking and I thought of France and the Louvre… that’s why I am here…” it isn’t a lie, you can tell from the sincerity that rings with Jeongguk’s words. “And maybe I remembered that you liked to go here… so you’d know how it looks and all…” Jeon Jeongguk is the youngest in their cluster, an art student from Seoul and underground cage fighter. Jimin has always teased and overwhelmed Jeongguk with affection. Which the other has always returned with sarcasm and rejection. All in good humor of course. For the latter to actually remember something of Jimin’s does not come as a surprise. As much as he pretends he doesn’t care and is busy with school, he cares deeply. The dark haired Korean boy scratches the back of his head a little in embarrassment. Namjoon only curls an arm around Jeongguk’s shoulders and takes away the embarrassment in an instant. He is their leader of sorts, despite Seokjin and Yoongi being older. He just exudes that power. “Just wanted to check on all of you and well you seemed to have gathered here…” he turns his head to watch the paintings. Humming, his head slightly tilted and leaning against Jeongguk’s. Namjoon loves museums, wether it is art, history or science. He loves to gather knowledge and store it away in that big brain of his. Jeongguk shyly reaches out with his hand and has the tips of his fingers, press against the tips of Jimin’s finger’s. They curl the first digits around one another in a lose hold. It’s the only way he knows how to comfort, because he’s no good with words. He’s too harsh and honest, to be comforting.

For the moment it feels perfect, all eight of you gathered in the Louvre. Talking, laughing and just enjoying one another’s company. Each and every one of you forgets their problems, their lives and the urgencies of matters for a second. Just being in the presence of their complementing other seven halves. It feels right to be with these complete strangers, more than anything in your life ever had. That night you fall asleep without any aid. You fall asleep to the laughter of Taehyung, the scolding of Seokjin and the clicking sound Yoongi makes with his tongue, when he’s annoyed. You fall asleep to Hoseok’s deep voice rumbling against the back of your neck, as you sit in his lap and he cards his hand through your hair. Jimin holding one of your hands, while the other is held by Taehyung on the ground. Namjoon’s charismatic voice, talking about happenings that shaped current Europe. While Jeongguk strolled around the room, seeking the inspiration he’d come for. You fall asleep to the first honest laughter of Jimin, since you’d met him. Jimin’s head is clear and full of new hopes for the next days and maybe years. He’s filled with an explosive happiness he can’t pin point. Steps almost too light for the concrete beneath him, as if he was hoovering over the ground. Lips in a breathtaking smile, his eyes were forming crescents. Taehyung accompanies him to his apartment, because he has nothing to do yet. His next race is in two days and for now he’s bored and wants to explore the other’s lives and countries. Jimin doesn’t mind, he enjoys the younger’s presence and his never ending stream of interesting and to be quite honest weird things. 

He learns that Taehyung is an extremely good saxophone player and that he would lend Jimin the ability if he ever needs it for an audition. But that that talent of his meant little to nothing, not where he grew up. While Dubai sounds glamorous upon first hearing, Jimin knows from glitched memories, that Taehyung did not have such a glamorous life. That there was a whole other side to Dubai. They talk and sit next to one another for a long time, or so it feels at least. Before Taehyung has to part, because his younger brother is at home and he needs to help him with his homework. The orange haired actor doesn’t mind, accepting the parting hug that Tae bestows upon him. For anyone watching, it would be a weird sight. Jimin hugging puffs of air. Once he is alone again, he makes for his nightly routine. Being an actor comes with a lot of responsibilities, which included taking care of his skin and his health. But for once in his life Jimin wants a hot shower and just to fall asleep. Which is exactly what he does, shedding out of his clothing, throwing all of it into the hamper next to the sink. He brushes his teeth, washes his face and dries both face and hands with the soft towel to his right. Not bothering to put on any clothes, he walks naked to his bedroom and falls on top of his bed. It’s a lot of wiggling and feet pushing the blanket around, until he’s underneath and snuggled in. It is one of his guilty pleasures to feel the cool sheets and his blanket on his naked skin. Loves to leave the designer clothes and suits for the freedom of his own skin. And maybe he is a little of a exhibitionist. Maybe just a tiny bit.

Sleep befalls the twenty-six year old quickly, sweeping him of consciousness towards dreamland. Dropping him right in a scenario he only allows himself during night times, when his brain is working through the happenings of the days and has no time to fight off his inner desires. Hot hands roamed his chest, fingers splayed. Slender and tanned from the sun, they find their ways over his chest and towards his shoulders. He is pressed into the bed, for a pair of plump lips to enclose around the skin on his neck. Sucking and licking on the patch of skin, as if it is ambrosia. He can feel another pair of hands slide past his right knee and up his thigh. Thumb brushing over the bone of his hip, that is slightly protruding. Chocolate eyes closed, feeling the maximum of the touches, he can’t do anything but moan. Groan as another pair of hands spread his legs, pressure put on both his knees to keep them apart. He bucks his hips, when a different pair of lips kissed down his chest. A kittenish tongue stroking over his hardening nipples. He is overly sensitive on his nipples and neck, but he’s never told anyone. Jimin is too busy to play around with girls or boys, he’s too busy to make a living, to escape his family to bother with a lover. Too long is it ago, for him to have felt anything resembling a warm willing body next to him. A born submissive, he can only be on the mercy of whoever was giving him the pleasure. Rewarding them with his breathy moans and the rumbling groans from deep within his chest. It feels like hands are everywhere, lips of different shapes and texture pressing to his hot skin. His erection is curving up to his stomach and at this point pre-cum is dribbling from the tip and onto his stomach. And then the whole world tilts and he finds himself on his knees, elbows imprisoning someone underneath him. Eyes snapping open to make sense of the whole situation, he watches you with wide eyes. You’re equally as wide eyed as he is. Your breathing is heavy, t-shirt clothed chest brushing against his naked and sweating one. Beads of sweat are rolling down the side of his face and soak into his now slightly darker hair. It looks like a sunset bleeding into the night sky and you want to touch it so desperately. It’s rough against his skin, the fabric of your T-shirt. And he can tell, from the sink and lift of each of your chests, that your nipples have hardened. A tap to his muscly thighs makes him break eye contact with you, in favor to look to his right. Where Taehyung has one knee on the bed, his other leg outstretched and supporting his body on the ground. “You should invest in a bigger bed” he tells you, his voice deep and filled with a wicked undertone.

You are distracted with his sudden appearance, to notice how a hand sneaks underneath your oversized white sleeping shirt. A calloused finger rubs against your nipple and pulls you right away from Taehyung’s hungry eyes. For a split second you think it’s Jimin, for he’s still kneeling above you. But the finger is too rough and the hand that then cups your chest, is equally too rough to be Jimin’s. A pale slender hand cups your chin and pulls your head to the side, to meet Yoongi and Namjoon’s eyes. You are confused, which is a constant state ever since you met your other cluster-buddies. However you’re also sexually frustrated and hot and bothered. Making it much easier to accept the fact, that you were probably going to have a mind orgy. The bed is definitely too small to accommodate all of you. Which you get told again by Hoseok, when he straddles Seokjin’s lap, though you’d not seen him or the latter appear. How could you even, with Yoongi kissing you breathless and Namjoon’s wandering hands. Or were they Jeongguk’s? You could not tell, but one of them pushes your legs further apart and Jimin has to scoot a little closer to Taehyung, to make sure all of you are on the bed. Your neck is graced with Jimin’s plump lips, sucking and licking over your skin. Though you know that there is no way in hell he is actually doing it, it feels real and overwhelming. He knows damn well that your most sensitive body part was your neck. So did the other’s. It is the same way, of you knowing exactly that Yoongi likes his hair being pulled. Or that Namjoon wants your mouth wrapped around his cock.

 It’s all things you just know, don’t need to ask, don’t need to fumble. It’s imprinted into your mind, as much as your desire is in theirs. “We’d be looking like some weirdos….” Taehyung’s voice is even deeper than usual, arousal so evident that it makes the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on edge. “Well I locked my office, because I had the sudden urge to fuck someone…” Seokjin grumbles. Your thighs quiver, when you hear the eldest curse. It is something that rarely to never happens, especially never has happened in this way. Though truth be told, you and your cluster have never gone beyond an occasional kiss or the regular hug. His train of thought is quickly diverted, when Hobi rolls his hips downward. Their members are hard and straining against their pants and the drag against one another, just feels heavenly. It is weird to know what they feel and how it feels like, when it’s not you or your body that is experiencing it. Still it spurs on your own arousal. You know at one point it’s just memories of arousal and touches, orgasms and lust. But it’s all so potent, so real and almost on the tip of your tongue for you to taste, that you can’t find it in yourself to care. “God I would give anything, to get on an airplane and actually touch you right now…” Namjoon’s voice is so close to your ear, his teeth pulling at your cartilage. There is a surge of confidence, maybe it is because overly confident Namjoon wants you so badly. Or it’s because you’re being touched by three other people and you’re somehow the center of their attention. Either way, a surge of confidence has you moving to support yourself on your elbows. Head angling to capture Namjoon in a kiss and whisper against his heavily panting lips. “Why don’t you big boy…”

He doesn’t get to answer, when Yoongi impatient as he is, pulls you towards him. His slender fingers are stronger than they look and hold you in a vice like grip. It’s on a fine line of painful and pleasurable. Has you gasping against his lips, with how close his face is to yours now. Pupils blown wide with lust, his erection pressing against your knee with the position you are sandwiched in. “Such a fucking tease…” he murmurs and teeth finding your lower lip and biting down on it. He pulls a little, just enough to have you moan from the sensation. Before he lets up and kisses over the place he has bitten. If Yoongi is impatient, Jeongguk doesn’t even know that word. He has enough from just touching and watching. He wants to do more, but decides to not get in between Yoongi and Namjoon. Jimin however is fair game, he’s just kissing Taehyung and running his fingers through the blonde strands of the racer. You have to move your legs a little, so Jeongguk can squeeze himself between Yoongi and Jimin. His thighs are thicker than Jimin’s, corded with muscles. His chest broader as well and thick arms matching the orange haired’s. He wraps his arms around Jimin’s chest and pulls him back against his chest. Groaning when he feels the other’s supple butt press against his erection. In return making his elder moan into Taehyung’s mouth.

Distracted as you are you don’t even notice how Yoongi nods at Namjoon. Yanking you forward by your ankle, you finds yourself straddling Yoongi, making room on the bed, so that Seokjin can roll Hoseok on his back. Just on the space you had been laying on seconds before. “Ah…” the gasp leaves your lips, when you feel the tip of Yoongi’s erection slide over your slick pussy. His head falls back, his breathless moan makes a few turn their head. It’s the very first time to actually hear Yoongi moan like that. Though with the months you are together, you would have thought to at least catch a glimpse of his arousal once. He never had actually shown any sexual desire, up until now that is. Lazily he tips his head forward, to catch your eyes and smirks. His lips turning up a little on the right side. Making you want to trace those lips with your finger. How he could spit fire with that mouth of his, a mouth that could rap so fast it makes you dizzy. The thought spreads from you to the others and you collectively moan at the thought. “Now I want him to suck me off….” Taehyung murmurs. Even with Jeongguk’s hand sliding down his chest, towards his red and quite decently long cock.

Hoseok is too busy with his hands running down Seokjin’s broad back. Fingers dancing down his spine, much like his body would in the dance studio. Whenever he had not to work late night shifts, when he had not to change apartments, towns and lives, always on the run from possible cops or government officials. At the same time using his hacker skills to fight the good fight. From the position you are in, legs wrapped around Yoongi’s waist and arms dangling over his shoulders, it takes you a while to understand who’s fucking who. Your eyes are mesmerized, watching as Seokjin prepares himself. His slightly crooked fingers pumping in and out of himself, hips relentlessly in their rhythm against Hoseok’s. Latter has an arm thrown over his eyes, teeth sinking down on his lower lip. You can see his restraint from blowing his load, just from being humped like that. It sets your own core on fire, once again effectively distracting you from Namjoon, who is seated behind you now, his lips kissing the other side of your neck. The one that Jimin has neglected, because Taehyung had demanded attention. Hip thrusting forward, from the sensitivity of your neck, Yoongi slips in. His hands that are curled around each of your hips, turn into a bruising grip. Or would have bruised if he had been present in the flesh. “Oh god….” he sinks his head, for his face to hide at your neck. Puffs of his hot breath spiking your arousal even more. It feels like a fix to you, the euphoria of their touches. Of the other’s close by. Of moans and hot words whispered between bodies, it is more. Your mind is blown with all the pleasure, with all the want and need. Lust is clouding your mind, but at this point you question the existence of yours. You surely must have lost it with what is happening around you. Yoongi has stilled, his teeth sinking into your shoulder.

However that is not your intention, you can’t sit still with him so deep inside of you. Stretching you nicely, filling you up like no one has ever before. It is strange. That you can feel him, that it is real to you. That his cock makes you shake and gasp for air on top of him. That you can tell Namjoon’s the one who’s pushing in a finger despite Yoongi’s cock already inside you. A high pitched moan escapes your lips, when he wiggles his finger in and bends it a little, touching something you’ve never had touched before. The sound that has left your lips is so downright sinful, that it has the other men stop in their motions to watch. Jeongguk groans against the side of Jimin’s face, his lips ghosting close to the latter’s mouth. “This is so freaking hot…..” he murmurs and is seconded by Taehyung. “Wish I could fuck her too….” he says, but grins when he wiggles his own fingers, that are knuckle deep in Jimin. Jimin’s voice is raw as he moans out, his hips moving to the pace set by Taehyung. “But I also want to fuck Jiminie….” he is smirking wickedly again, but it’s quickly wiped off and replaced with an “O” shape. Jeongguk’s thigh has somehow found itself between Taehyung’s legs. And it’s a stretch, it’s a fucking acrobatic trick in your eyes. How he keeps Jimin his lap, but also has Taehyung straddling him, who’s still knuckle deep in Jimin. But he makes it work and when he flexes his thigh, Taehyung’s head falls forward, forehead brushing against the curve of Jeongguk’s shoulder. “I could fuck noona and you hyung. And still have some left to give Namjoon-hyung.” sharing one mind has also sharing memories and an understanding for one another’s culture. Being South Korean Jeongguk uses the suffixes that are appropriate for your age and that of the other boys. It had been a little weird at the beginning, but you came to see it as a bond of trust and closeness to be called that. You didn’t use those words however, it didn’t feel right to you. And you’d never been raised to use them in the beginning. Jeongguk didn’t mind, you knew.

”Those are some big words, little one…” Namjoon is probably the only one who can still call Jeongguk little one. In the few months you have known Jeongguk by now, you found out he grew rapidly. Something that has bothered both Jimin and Yoongi, not that they would ever voice that out loud. You know for a fact and so do the others, that Jeongguk has a worshipping complex for Namjoon. Maybe it’s because he’s their leader of sorts, because he’s a federal agent – and that’s fucking hot as it is anyway – or because he’s so fucking smart. You can’t pick, because the youngest himself doesn’t seem to know really. But he blushes to the root of his hair, when Namjoon regards him with a hot stare. The want to offer some words, to be as effective with your words as Namjoon or Yoongi are is great. Howbeit the DJ has other plans with you and thrusts his hips upward, with Namjoon’s finger sliding out of you it causes a friction that has you almost screaming out in pleasure. The duo is not done with you though, oh no. Namjoon knows you like it rough, he knows you like to test your limits and go further, do more, experience intenser. So he uses a second finger to push alongside his first and the mint-haired man growls. You are so deep in the pleasure you are feeling and the way Namjoon and Yoongi light your insides on fire. That you almost forget about the other’s around you. Forcing yourself to open your eyes, you need to blink a few times. Hazy with pleasure and drunk on the need for more, you take a bit of time.

And then you’re once again thrusting forward. Hoseok is holding onto Seokjin’s hips, who’s fucking himself down on Hoseok’s dick. You can see it slide in and out of Seokjin, making you swallow the saliva that’s being produced in your mouth like crazy. Hands splayed on Hoseok’s torso, the eldest racks his fingers down his chest. Making sure his nails are running over the hacker’s oversensitive nipples. If your neck was the sure way to fire up your core, it was his nipples for Hoseok. He likes his lovers playing with them licking and bitting at them. You could tell he wants to pierce them and increase the pleasure, but he’s hesitant and he hates needles. “B-Both…” Jimin’s words are broken whimpers, which catch your attention next. Almost unable to catch a glimpse of them the way you’re sitting. It has to be something incredibly pleasant, with the surges of it coursing through all of you. You still didn’t know how the whole mental connection worked. But by now all of you could say that one’s pleasure, could overtake everyone else’s if strong enough. So whatever Taehyung and Jeongguk were doing? It was pushing you, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok and Seokjin towards the edge of your pleasure. There were benefits and downsides to being with one another, without physically being with one another. On one hand, you didn’t need copious amounts of lube to smooth the way. You wouldn’t have to wash cum stains out of your bedding, from seven over eager dicks. And there was no chance of getting any illnesses or even be pregnant from the whole ordeal. Especially big perk is, no marks to hide under tons of concealer or scarfs in summer. On the other hand, you knew it wasn’t real sex, it was just the feeling of it. It was still you getting off, but it was without the hot touch of the other’s. It was different, knowing and convincingly being able to feel it. From actually feeling it. Also a downside was, to not being able to be with one another physically. You could not really feel their skin underneath yours. You could not feel the burn of Namjoon’s fingers and Yoongi’s member. Later on you would find another thing that you didn’t like.

Straying thoughts, that could dampen the pleasure you deserve, are not allowed in Namjoon’s books. So he pulls his fingers out of you and moves behind you. His big hands overlap Yoongi’s on your hips and with a thrust that sends you forward crashing into the shorter man. Which sends him on his back, awkwardly positioned on eye level with Jeongguk’s bum and the top of his head, brushing against Hoseok’s thigh. The american is balls deep inside of you, alongside Yoongi. It’s not the first time you’ve been double penetrated, but it’s the first time that the pleasure almost knocks you into unconsciousness. Your breathing stutters, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. His deep voice was whispering naughty words and sentences into your ear. “You feel so fucking good taking both of us. So tight and hot…” he smirks against the shell of your ear. Once more going for a bite to the cartilage, pulling a little. Curse words spilling from Yoongi’s lips at the position he is in now and the way he can feel Namjoon and you. Curse words, Seokjin would have given him an earful if he wasn’t taking Hoseok like he was born to do. To your side you can see that Jimin has been positioned on his knees, his lips around Jeongguk’s cock. Who’s head is thrown back and hand is curled tightly around orange strands of hair. Behind him Taehyung is thrusting his hips into the curve of Jimin’s ass. Long fingers are splayed over the eldest of their trio’s back.

Pressing down so hard,t hat if it had been reality, there would be finger shaped bruises along his back. With each thrust, Jimin’s body slides forward, taking in the youngest more and more. Until he gags and Jeongguk growls. By now it’s no longer Jimin bobbing his head, but the Korean young man fucking into the french man’s mouth. The erotic sight only spurs on their third party, to move his hips even faster. Moans and groans fill your ear and mind. Mushing into one another to form one big surge of pleasure. You don’t know where you begin and the other’s end. Not just encapsulating Namjoon and Yoongi, but meaning all of you. Feeling Hoseok’s pleasure, swapping places with Seokjin, then Jimin. At one point you’re in place of Jeongguk. And once you blink again, you find yourself behind Jimin. It’s insane and warped and you can feel your orgasm approaching like a fast train. Drugs the only thing you could ever describe this feeling to. The feeling of being out of your body, out of your mind and only a mess of sensory nerve endings. There is no way of describing the feeling of your orgasm hitting you. Nothing can compare to the pleasure that ignites you, fire like sensations spreading from your neurons. It’s lava that is burning through your veins, electricity replacing your muscles. It’s a knock out. You scream out your pleasure, know the others came just as you did, before you black out completely.

He is humming a soft song, his voice not even a whisper in it’s quietness. He doesn’t want to wake you, because he can feel your exhaustion. But he doesn’t want to leave you either. The other’s had to go back to their work and lives. Jeongguk had fallen asleep and therefore vanished to his room in Seoul. Taehyung’s lips had formed into a smirk and he had whispered something about a repeat, before leaving to pick his brother up from his part-time job. Yoongi’s work as the DJ for the night wasn’t over and he had to return to it. Cursing all of them for having him come in his pants and having to work. Seokjin only told him to always have spare clothing, because “as you see you might need it” while Hoseok had just told them, he’d sleep for the rest of his life. Which wasn’t true, he had to go to his actual day-time job and therefore needed hours of sleep anyway. Namjoon only leaving after making sure with Seokjin together, that someone would be there for you when you’d wake up. As you’d been ripped out of the connection with your orgasm induced unconsciousness. He felt that he had to be there for you. It was something he couldn’t explain, the wish to lay next to you and watch as your eyes flutter open. When your eyes indeed open, like the flutter of a butterflies wings, he watches you closely. His one arm is bend at the elbow underneath his head, the other lazily laying in between both your bodies. “You are beautiful” he breathes into the space between your lips, your faces mere inches away. If you had any energy left inside of you, you know it could have been more than a few lazy kisses.

But you are spent, even if it wasn’t physically draining. “I thought that was Jeongguk…” your lips forming into a small smile, dimples showing in each side of your cheek. They are not as deep as Namjoon’s – Jimin would like to try and drink tequila from them (and he knows there are a few other’s who would like to try too) – but he loves yours as much as he does Namjoon’s. Finger tracing along your cheek, to touch the crescent shaped indent. “He is…. but you are too…” he looks at you, memorizing every single dip and slope of your face. Notes the softness and roundness of the apples of your cheek. The natural arch of your eyebrows, that gave you a resting – judge stare. How your eyelashes were not as full as Taehyung’s, but just as long as his. He notices a mole close to your earlobe and faint baby hairs, that are so light of color that they almost blend with the curve of your jaw. Up close he can see the spark in your eyes and the speckles of different colors merging into a spiral that has him fall down, down, down. He’s mesmerized, he is enchanted and cursed all at the same time. He wants you, as much as he wants the other’s. But there is distance between all of you, there is the silent threat of someone coming for your cluster. And his own problems piling up on him. Sunset hair swept to the side and curling slightly around the shell of his ear, is brushed right behind his ear by soft slender fingers. They curl around the side of his head, wrist pressed against his cheek. “We are connected now… we are one… and eight at the same time… We’re meant to find one another… and we will…” it’s whispered softly, more like soft breaths than actual words. Because as much as Jimin had been busy to study your features and admire you, you had been doing the exact same thing.

Your thumb is brushing against his silky soft hair, admiring how the strands fell and bent to your skin. “Do you ever wonder… how our lives would have gone on, without being connected? If we could have found one another and complimented one another… if not for this situation?” you have been thinking about it every single day. The fear of waking up and not feeling any of the others anymore. Of being all by yourself, of the silence in your mind. “I thought about it once” he admits, silence befalling both of you. He is sad, you can tell. Tendrils of his feelings bleeding into your own, mixing with the thoughts he doesn’t bother to lock away. He has thought about it and he has come to the conclusion that he doesn’t want to think about it ever again. His hands are bigger than yours, while still being smaller than the other guys. They are soft and smooth, as they slide your hand away from his face. Feather like, his fingers dance across your cheeks. Over the curve of your face, to slide down your jawline. His nails leaving a tingling sensation behind. You close your eyes automatically, while his body moves to hoover above you. His knees to each side of your hip cage you in, much like his hands are doing. He’s barely a hair width away from touching your nose with his, your breaths mingling and warmly puffed in between your lips. The sex from before is still fresh in your mind and while it had been intimate, this is different. It has your chest rise and fall in quick motion. Heart clenching at the weird feelings it stirs inside of you. It’s sad and yet feels so, so, so good.

He touches his lips to your’s. Different than the kisses you received up until now. Not quite a kiss, but the shy graze of plump lips to yours. The tip of his nose, brushing against the curve of your’s. His fingers moving further up and, follow the arch of your eyebrow. You open your eyes again, the sensation of his skin against yours, his breath mixing with yours, your breathing coming to a synchronic rhythm. It’s all too much and you find yourself almost gasping for air, to say his name. He smiles at you, it’s soft and unlike the blinding eye-smiles he gives all of you. It is filled with many things unsaid and many more you simply know, because they mix with your very own thoughts and once more cause a feeling of endlessness. You don’t know where you begin and where he ends. It is so much deeper than any bodily connection could go. He licks over his dry lips, the tip of his tongue almost touching the seam of your lips. Rosy lips falling apart for him. He is fascinated by it, has his thumb dance across the edge of your lips. Dipping into your mouth, tongue meeting him halfway and sliding over the pad of his thumb. Pulling it back, the skin of your lip dipping with the slight pressure he applies. You are naked and so is he. He gathers both of your wrists in one of his hands and gently guides them over your head. You follow his motion, your body curving with the motion. Chest brushing against his. Supple breasts meeting a gym hardened chest. “Keep them there…” you have never heard his voice like that. It is unlike his usually angelic voice. Reminding you of hot chocolate dripping over fingers and lips. Instantly invoking the wish to melt into him, to be filled with him. He trails a path of kisses down your neck and chest. His tongue sliding over soft skin, leaving a rapidly cooling trail behind. All of it is not happening in reality. In reality you’re bending your own body like a cat, stretching and holding onto the headboard for no apparent reason. In reality you are alone and for anyone watching, you could be having a very nice dream. However you no longer lived in reality by itself, you were no longer just part of the world out there. His tongue brushed against one of your nipples, your lips parting. Head lolling to the side, your own breath brushing against your arm in tingling wisps. “J-Jimin….” it’s a stutter of his name, not even really knowing what you want to tell him, it’s all you can think of. By now his orange hear has crossed the plane of your quivering stomach, hands resting on your thighs.

Before you can say his name again, he slowly sinks down his head. The pressure on your knees keeps them apart and open for him. He licks his lips once more. And then they’re touching your core, his tongue sliding over your folds which are slick from the sensual ministrations before. You still have your hands firmly curled around the headboard. But your thighs are shaking and the muscles in your abdomen jump at the touch of his tongue to your clit. He is careful and slow with his tongue, teeth only grazing your flesh to rile you up. It works. You moan and pant in a matter of seconds, really. Lips closing around your clit he sucks and you arch your body off the bed. Almost ready to burry your hands in his hair and press him down to rut your hips against his lips. But you don’t, you want to know what is coming for you, you want to see the lover Jimin is. To the edge he teases you, until he can tell just from sensing your pleasure, that you’re about to come. He pulls away and you can’t help the sound of protest that crosses your lips and mingles with the shifting sounds of sheets and limbs. On his knees, his hands curl around your calves and pull you forward. Your right leg he places up and over his shoulder. While the other is splayed lazily over his thigh. “Make those pretty noises for me…” it’s not a question. He thrusts into you. Head falling back and lips parted to release a loud moan, you are the perfect painting for him. If he could capture that moment, he would have. The way you feel tight around him, wet and warm has him almost lose his patience. A start up of a slow rhythm, his hips meeting yours almost like a dance. He was thicker than Yoongi, but also shorter. However his hips met yours perfectly and the grind of his pelvic bone against your pulsing core is oh so delicious.

It’s a slow rhythm, savoring. Like a fine wine swirled in a glass, like the best part of a meal spared for last. He doesn’t want to end it just yet. But you can barely hold onto your sanity with the slow grind of him against and in you. Knowing that, his fingers trailed down your stomach, causing once again for your muscles to jump and a gasp to replace the occasional moan and panting sound of yours. His fingers in combination with his slow grind has you almost loosing your mind. It’s different than the overwhelming pleasure of all of you combined. This is intimate in the same way and yet feels completely different. You can’t pin point it, but you don’t want it to end. A small twist of his hips and his cock presses up against that one spot inside of you. It’s like fireworks, exploding behind your closed eyelids. Wondering briefly when you’d closed your eyes again, you have no time but to scream his name in pleasure. Plead him to give you more, to do it again. And he complies. He hits that spot of yours with each languid thrust. Until you’re reduced to a babbling, pleasure filled mess. And then he pulls out completely, just to slam in with a final thrust that sends you over the edge of your orgasm. Makes you gasp for air and let go of the headboard. In favor of pulling him down and kissing him. A chain reaction, causing him to follow you into his own orgasm. He spills his seed, but it never ends up inside of you. Once the connection is broken, for the world outside to connect to your mind, he would find himself back in his bed. And you would find yourself alone in your apartment. But you savor those few moments that you have. Kissing him and holding him. Until both of you have to part, his cellphone pulling him away from you, as it rings and signals for him that his workday is about to start.

Jimin finds himself looking up at his ceiling, the warmth of your body lingering around him. He can still hear your sweet voice in his ear, can still smell your scent with him. But he can also feel his cooling cum on his skin and groans as he moves up from his bed. Being a sensate came with a lot of perks and a lot of downsides. Gathering some clothes and towels in his arms, his feet carry him towards the bathroom. Turning on the warm water, he leaves the clothes on the sideboard in the bathroom. Climbing into the shower, he closes the glass doors, that turn milky upon closing. His smile is small and a little on the shy side, when he thinks to himself. That /Yes there were downsides to the whole sensate thing. But they could never overshadow the good sides of being a sensate. They could never darken his view on the magnificent human beings, that share a mind and heart with him. No… Park Jimin finds himself slowly accepting who he is, slowly beginning to understand his own worth. And what if he can’t love himself at that exact moment, to love everyone else? Eventually he will get there, eventually one day. He will love himself, as much as he loves every single one of his eight comrades. But for now he’s content to know that each of them is alive, each of them is breathing and living. And they need him as much as he needs them. For now Park Jimin relaxes in his shower, squirts some raspberry and vanilla scented body wash on his sponge and scrubs away the remnants of the night. He thinks of talking to Namjoon and Seokjin later, seeing if he can get Yoongi on board to. After all the four of them had steady and well paying jobs. Maybe they could help out Taehyunng, support you and Jeongguk. Hoseok surely wouldn’t need their financial support, whatever work he was doing currently paid enough for him to live comfortably for now. Jimin wants to help and as he’s drying up his body from the relaxing hot shower, he makes some more plans he’d like to follow up on. Wants to help more actively than he has before.

Some of you may be able to relate to this. I have very short nails for an adult female. I have always had very short nails and I like them this way. People have tried to shame me for my nails. 

I’ve been asked before “don’t you want long pretty nails? Girls are supposed to want pretty nails.” Yeah but consider this, not all girls do and not me. 

 I have tried out acrylic nails (high school, prom) and it felt strange to me and they didn’t last very long. I ended up taking them off.

 I think that if you want pretty long nails then go for it but don’t try to shame others who don’t agree with you. Having very short nails doesn’t make me or anyone else less female

 So how come my nails are so short? Ever since I can remember when my nails felt too long I would bite them, It was a sensory thing. These days I still bite them sometimes especially when I feel anxious but mostly I just file them down. 

 Here is some information on Onychophgia or nail biting: 

 Who bites their nails? People of all ages bite their nails. About half of all children between the ages of 10 and 18 bite their nails at one time or another. Nail-biting occurs most often during puberty. Some young adults, ages 18 to 22 years, bite their nails. Only a small number of other adults bite their nails. Most people stop biting their nails on their own by age 30. Boys bite their nails more often than girls after age 10. 

 I don’t usually paint my fingernails because that’s when they would get noticed and I would have to hear someone complain and tell me “your nails are awful!” or “I wouldn’t paint them if I were you it makes them look worse!" 

 But I don’t care anymore. I will paint them when I want to paint them regardless of other people’s opinions.