#it doesn’t feel…unbalanced

[padfootastic]

Jilypad Week 2023!!

(organised by the wonderful @jmagnabo92 💜)

Day 1 - When and Why did you begin to Ship Jilypad?  What makes you Ship it?

uhhh definitely can’t remember when i started shipping them but i think…and this’ll sound stupid lol…that it was because i really wanted more j/s and i wasn’t getting it anywhere else lol at that point, i didn’t quite care for lily bc i was so burnt by all those weird jily portrayals and the deified lily we get in gen fic,,,but once i actually started reading jilypad i realised how fun she could be. we definitely get some of the best characterisation for her on this side, i think, but i also could be hugely biased. she’s just…more fun, ykno? living her best life with two of the hottest guys the world!s seen beside her. also! it’s the only way i can see any form of lily/sirius working out and i think james deserves to have two people fully glomping on him. so. jilypad is what all of them deserve.

(i think…one of the first references to this was one of keira marcos’ fics where s was in a triad w jily but they were dead so it never came up so much—that didn’t stop the sheer heartbreak of sirius carrying on from bleeding into the story tho. it was so,,,,,hnghhhh)

[artist-issues]

That’s It.

I’m tired of seeing everyone repeat the same four points: “1) Nani gives Lilo to the state! 2) Hawaii has a better marine biology program than San Fransisco! 3) Jumba doesn’t get redeemed! 4) Pleakley’s not wearing a dress!”

Those are not the only things that were bad about this remake. You could easily tell it was going to be all that and more beforehand, but most people’s reaction to the trailer was “it’s surprisingly good!” and now they’re acting all surprised. If you didn’t see this coming, enough to purchase a ticket, you’re part of the problem and you don’t get the original movie any more than the people who made this remake did.

So I’m done being quiet, this is the Lilo & Stitch 2025 Takedown Post.

And as usual the only good thing about an attempted-remake is that it gives people a reason to think about what made the original so good.

Let’s go in order. But just scroll down to the Heading you Care About if you don’t want to read all this.

1. Cobra Bubbles

In this movie, Cobra Bubbles is a secret agent hunting for aliens and they have a new character take his place as the state social worker.

The Problem They Were Trying to Solve With this Change: “We shouldn’t have a black man or a government worker feel like an insensitive antagonist to Lilo’s family.”

That’s a stupid surface-level one-dimensional misread of the character from the original…and it wouldn’t have been hard, at all, for a child to explain to the 2025 filmmakers that Cobra is not an insensitive antagonist in the original.

Cobra Bubbles is not insensitive and he is not in any way portrayed as a bad guy in the original. Nani sees him that way, Nani sees him as antagonistic, because he’s the representation of Lilo being taken away.

But Nani is wrong about him and learns that she is wrong about him by the end of the movie.

Can we please make a list?

Cobra’s first interaction with the caretaker of the child he was being sent to protect was that she ran out into the road, yelled at a complete stranger, and dented his car.

Then he found her locked out of the home and threatening the child inside with a hammer in her hand.

Then he found out the stove was on while she was out, and she’d left a 7 year-old alone.

The 7 year-old made comments about being disciplined with bricks and a pillow case.

The 7 year-old looks like she might be more than a little emotionally unbalanced because she’s figuring out how to put voodoo spells on her friends to punish them.

He still gave that pair of sisters three days to straighten the ship. When in actuality, in 2002, under HRS §587-73, (don’t play with me) the social worker would’ve been well within his rights to remove the child from the home right then. But instead he gives her three days to fix it. THEN

The 18 year-old loses her job.

The family gets a “dog” who he is implied to know is an alien, right off the bat.

The alien is violent and wreaks havoc across town.

The 7 year-old almost drowns while they surf instead of find a job.

He lets the child and caretaker have one more night together to say goodbye, but when he’s on the way to get her he gets a call that she’s being attacked by aliens, hears a chainsaw, and finds the house on fire.

Do you understand what I’m saying.

Cobra Bubbles had NO BUSINESS being as BIG A SOFTIE AS HE WAS for all of the original movie. He was not only well within his legal rights to take Lilo away from Nani immediately, but he was actually required by law, it was his DUTY, to remove her immediately. But he didn’t do that. Why?

Now listen to me very carefully.

Lilo and Stitch is a movie about how “Family chooses to love and commit to one another selflessly, no matter what the other person can do for them or how hard they make it.” The fancy way they say it is just “Ohana means family: family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.”

Did you catch that? “No matter how hard they make it.”

Cobra Bubbles was a CIA agent before this. A CIA agent who saved the planet, by doing what? Convincing an alien race to leave them alone. Oh, he didn’t fight them off? No. How? He “convinced” them? He talked it out? Sounds like a pretty compassionate guy, for all his tough exterior. How did he do that?

He could’ve picked any animal that’s actually endangered. The filmmakers chose to make him the guy who convinced aliens to value mosquitos.

MOSQUITOS. Creatures that give nothing, only take. Ugly little bloodsucking monsters. That’s the creature he convinced them to care about enough to save the planet.

NOW do you have any trouble understanding why this is the specific social worker who would give an alien-infested dumpster fire of a dangerous home a chance when two sisters are about to be torn apart?

Do you see that Cobra is just another example of the grace that the movie is always talking about? The love that transforms someone from bad to good simply because it refuses to give up even when it gets nothing out of it? I’m repeating myself because I want you to see why he was a well-done character who NEEDED NO CHANGE.

Cobra Bubbles’ character is not an insensitive monster who doesn’t care who his actions hurt as long as he gets the job done. But you know who that does sound like?

2. Gantu

Gantu is not in the remake at all.

The Problem They Were Trying to Solve With This Change: “It’s going to cost us upwards of 1.5 millions of dollars to design, sculpt, rig, animate, and render a character this big in addition to finding a suitable voice actor to play the part.”

This is a really dumb choice for several reasons. A. Without Gantu, there is no “stakes-raiser” to Lilo and Nani’s story. The movie has no climax without him. For the first and second acts of the movie, it’s about a grieving pair of girls trying to prove themselves to a social worker while the story-equivalent of Beethoven the Destructive St. Bernard wacky Jumba & Pleakley antics get in their way. But when a 40-foot tall alien stomps into their lives and abducts Lilo & Stitch in a spaceship that careens around the island during an explosive sky-chase scene, now you have a high-octane, somebody-could-die climax.

B. Without Gantu, Stitch looks weaker. The climax gave Stitch a reason to come out of the wackadoo puppy he’s been posing as and suddenly remind everybody that he’s a lethal weapon who can survive thousand-foot drops, lava, and astronomic explosions—and a giant alien’s Thanos-dwarfing fist. Take him out and who do we have as a match for Stitch to go up against, even for a moment, and prove how much he’s changed to be willing to risk his freedom and fight?

C. Without Gantu you have no villain to reflect that STITCH is no longer a villain. (So they substituted Jumba.)

But the reason this character is really worth millions is, again, the theme.

I told you Cobra Bubbles was a character who did not put “duty” or even “convenience” or “position” over the real lives of Lilo and Nani. He saw that there was love there, and in his own way, he gave it a chance. And even when he chose to take Lilo away, he did it carefully; he gave them time to say goodbye.

GANTU IS THE OPPOSITE OF COBRA BUBBLES.

Gantu is the insensitive, uncaring, unyielding Captain whose commitment to duty turns into rage and cruelty. Not Cobra.

Nani thinks Cobra is walking in a threatening to tear apart their family in a display of government judgement. But that’s what Gantu literally does.

His first reaction to Stitch is to call for his destruction. Without even waiting to see if “it can be reasoned with” like the Grand Councilwoman suggests. He’s merciless. He mocks Stitch when Stitch is captive. And he knows that he caught Lilo, a human, along with him. He doesn’t care. He even suggests that Stitch eat her as a snack.

There are only two other characters who laugh at others’ misfortune in the movie. One is Stitch, the original villain. Then love changes him. The other is Jumba, who made Stitch. Then love changes him. But Gantu never gets changed. He’s only concerned with his job, and with personally annihilating the flaws he sees in Stitch.

Gantu is unyielding, ungracious, and cruel. And he’s big and powerful enough to be a test for Stitch to prove he’s changed. For the benefits he brings to the story, he’s worth 1.5 million and more. But they cut him anyway.

3. Jumba

In the new movie, Jumba is a villain through-and-through with designs on overthrowing the Galactic Council using Stitch, and instead of being redeemed, he’s sentenced to prison.

The Problem They Were Trying to Solve With This Change: “We can’t spend money on our real villain so we’ll just keep Jumba evil.”

The reason this is dumb is obvious. They created their own problem, and the ‘fix’ makes the movie weaker, not stronger. But here’s how.

In the original, Jumba is introduced as trying to self-protect. He’s on trial, and he lies. But when Stitch is revealed, he’s genuinely passionate about the thing he’s created. And he cares about image. He prefers to be called “evil genius,” and he hates the headlines labelling him “idiot scientist.”

You have to remember he’s part of “Galaxy Defense Industries.” They had him making weapons of destruction anyway. He just got too into it with his genetic Experiments, went a little insane.

I’m not downplaying the fact that Jumba is evil at the start of the movie. He is. It is evil to be outcasted from society and then respond to that with, “well, if they’re going to treat me like an idiot, I’LL SHOW THEM, I won’t care about anything except my passion for mad science!” That’s evil.

But it also explains a lot.

I said it in another post. Jumba’s whole utility as a character is that he knows who and what Stitch really is, better than anyone. He made him to be a monster who can’t belong and wreaks havoc on everybody else’s ‘place of belonging.’ Jumba is the audience’s insider’s perspective on what is going on in Stitch’s head, at first.

But when he’s redeemed, it happens fast. And why? Because that’s how plain and simple Stitch is, as a character. Jumba knows Stitch is a disgusting little monster with nothing inherently loveable about him, and no “greater purpose.” So when his disgusting monster is loved by someone? When his disgusting monster is willing to ask him, Jumba, for help? Something totally outside his programming, totally not what Jumba thought he’d ever be capable of?

That proves to Jumba, in an instant, that there’s love out there that transforms. And creates a place of belonging.

There were already germs of that, a desire to belong, a compassion, in Jumba after he reached earth.

He doesn’t try to get Nani fired, he offers an explanation for Pleakley’s swollen head.

He claims he won’t hit Lilo (why would he care about collateral damage?)

He sounds sorry for Nani when she’s upset about losing Lilo, and tries to keep Stitch from bothering her.

My point is, Jumba’s redemption isn’t important because it’s cute or because we need to set up the big happy found-family trope everybody loves.

Jumba’s redemption is important because it is just one more PROOF that what’s happened to Stitch is so incredible. The love Jumba finds transforming his monster is enough to transform Jumba, too.

But sure, fine, whatever, make him a soulless one-dimensional talking head. Whatever.

4. Stitch’s Design

In this movie, Stitch is cuter than he is ugly, and he’s half Lilo’s size.

The Problem They Were Trying to Solve With This Change: “Ugly-cute doesn’t come across as well in ‘live action’ animation. And all the Wal-Mart moms remember Stitch as ‘cute.’ Plus we’ll save about 15% in rendering the animation.”

This is crippling to the characterization of Stitch.

Stitch is supposed to be an echo of who Lilo could become now that she’s lost her parents and may be losing Nani. This scene:

Where Jumba points out that Stitch has nothing, and destruction is his only purpose, is the evidence for that. But Chris Sanders, who made this whole story, also point-blank said it. Stitch is a future Lilo, if she loses her family.

So that’s reason number 1 that he should be her same height. But also, practically, no iconic pair of best friends, yin and yang, have visuals where one is smaller than the other. Especially not if one of them is supposed to be disguised as a pet.

The point is, Stitch is not LILO’s pet. He is her best friend, her other half. But between the muzzle-muscles they worked into his upper lip and the darkened dog nose and the butt-scooting across the floor, the remake is trying to make him more pet-like in relation to Lilo.

That’s not what he is.

I said this in another post. But Stitch is supposed to throw food to the back of his head like a gator—his lips are not designed for forming words. His gums and teeth are supposed to look like a shark’s. His nose is supposed to be too big, stamped into his face. His ears are supposed to be like bat ears, not bunny ears. He hunches forward, instead of bending at the waist like a toddler. His eyes can narrow to lizard slits.

He has to look like he can believably be a disgusting monster. Yes, he can also be cute. But he has to first look like a monster. Because that’s what he really is, in the story. If he isn’t, then LILO’s love for him doesn’t look as powerful.

It is easy to love a cat even if it scratches you, because it’s cute. It’s harder to love a life-sized spider that keeps knocking you down and eating your prized possessions and laughing when you get hurt. Stitch is supposed to be closer to the second one, so that Lilo’s love shines brighter.

But also, practically:

She can’t look him in the eye for emotional shots when he’s that short. He’ll always have to awkwardly be standing on a box or a chair or a bed.

How is he going to scoop her up, hero-style, and leap off of an exploding spaceship with her in his arms, when he’s half her size? He could do it: it’ll look stupid, though. So they just don’t have that part in the movie.

She can pick him up. That alone is demeaning and again, the visuals are silly. Not what we’re going for.

5. Lilo’s Personality

In this movie, Lilo doesn’t like weird stuff, and she screams when she first meets Stitch. There’s no problem that this solves. It’s just laziness and a lack of care about the characters.

I would like to remind you that the original Lilo:

Made her own doll that looks like a shrunken head and pretended a bug laid eggs in her ears.

Makes up stories about a fish that controls the weather and actively deep-sea dives to bring it peanut butter sandwiches.

Has a knee-jerk reaction of using practical voodoo spells on friends who wrong her.

Listens exclusively to Elvis Presley.

Fills baby bottles with coffee.

Believes Nani’s manager is a vampire.

Has fishing nets and seashells in her room for decoration.

takes safari pictures of overweight bleached tourists.

meets a social worker and her first impulse is to ask if he’s killed someone.

Nails the door shut when she’s mad at her big sister.

She’s not friends with pound dogs in that original movie; when they first get there she acts like she’s never been in the kennel before, and originally wants a pet lobster.

I know that we all love that little girl they got to play Lilo, but if you were really being objective, you’d acknowledge that she’s a little girl. She’s not Lilo. She’s a cute little girl.

They did not write Lilo into the 2025 movie. They wrote any old little girl.

You should have known, from the moment she first sees Stitch and her reaction is to scream in the trailer, that THAT IS NOT LILO.

Lilo had a very specific set of characterizations. She was a character with a personality that exploded out of the screen. Every other character in the movie meets Stitch and reacts with disgust.

But not. LILO. She’s the only one to react to him like THIS:

She is literally not like anyone else. She’s doesn’t care that he’s ugly. Or weird. Or blue. Or even bat an eye when he can talk with all those shark teeth.

From Moment One, Lilo chooses Stitch. She chooses to love him. Regardless of what he can do for her. Regardless of how many times he pushes her over or rips up her house or makes her relationship with Nani harder. That is the number one thing about Lilo.

She is desperate for people to stay, but she chooses to love Stitch even though he’s a monster. And she tries to make him better. And her love succeeds in transforming him when nothing else could.

Lilo’s personality traits all mean something in the story. (I.e. she likes Elvis because she’s clinging to the past, she snaps pictures of tourists like they’re safari animals because they’re inherently people who LEAVE and she has issues with LEAVING, etc.) But the thing I think that was so obvious that the moviemakers missed for 2025 is she has to be weird. If she’s not weird, there’s no reason for her not to have friends. And if she has friends, what does she need Stitch for?

But also, Lilo’s personality in the new movie is just boring. Cute. But boring. Cute’s not that great of an accomplishment; any 7 year-old is cute.

6. Nani

I don’t think you guys need to know this. It’s not just that Nani leaves. It’s that “take care of yourself” is the exact opposite of the selfless message of the movie.

In the beginning, Lilo literally argues with Nani after being told she’s “such a pain,” and goes, “why don’t you SELL ME and buy a RABBIT INSTEAD?”

And then breaks down and cries at the thought of Nani wishing she had a rabbit instead of Lilo, later.

Because Lilo is afraid of people leaving. But Nani won’t leave her. Nani loses her job, her own life, because of Lilo. But she’s desperate to keep Lilo anyway, because she loves her. Don’t you understand? The message of the movie was about self-sacrificial love. A love that doesn't care what I get out of the relationship.

Nani starts it. But you know what, David loves her like that, too. And then Lilo transfers it to Stitch, who shows it off to Jumba. It’s a chain reaction, but Nani is spearheading it.

You realize that when their parents died, Nani already would’ve been in high school? With a whole life of her own? Her own friends, her own potential boyfriend, a job she went to, surf competitions (the trophies are in her room.) Lilo would’ve been well aware that that was the status-quo: Nani has her own life. And even a seven year-old can see that that life is being put on hold, but maybe the big sister wants to go back to it, at every turn.

The fact that Nani never does that, never expresses a desire for that, only ever expresses a desire to keep Lilo with her, is huge. It’s the core of the movie.

I don’t think that needs any more explaining.

We could talk more. Like about how Lilo needs to see that Stitch is an alien, because that’s the ultimate test: he’s one of the monsters who destroyed her house, he’s been lying to her and using her as a human shield, he’s a criminal—but she still winds up giving everything up to protect him.

Anyway. My neck hurts and I don’t want to type anymore. But we could talk about the music, the social worker, the grand councilwoman—it just doesn’t matter.

Ya’ll had more than enough details in the trailer to be able to not go see this movie because it was obviously going to ruin everything. But instead you chose to make this twisted corpse “the highest-grossing movie of any Memorial Day.” You bought tickets because they ruined a perfect movie and slapped together an uglier package for you.

Whatever. It was my favorite movie today, it’ll be your Treasure Planet or Tangled tomorrow. Keep riiiight on giving them your money, and keep letting influencers regurgitate the same four obvious facts to you over and over, because they paid Disney to make a talking-point for their content benefit. Whatever.

[unboundprompts]

Hey unbound!! I was wondering, have you written anything for "how to write Enemies to Lovers"? I LOVE the trope but have a hard time ever making it feel realistic to me

How to Write Enemies to Lovers

1. Establish a Real, Believable Conflict

The characters shouldn’t hate each other just because. Make sure their "enemy" status is rooted in something meaningful:

Clashing goals or values

A betrayal or misunderstanding

Socioeconomic, cultural, or professional rivalry

One perceives the other as a threat

Avoid making one character just "mean" for no reason, that risks turning the story into bullying-turned-romance.

2. Make Them Equals

Both characters should challenge each other, not dominate or belittle. Whether in intellect, skill, or influence, their push-and-pull dynamic should feel balanced. This keeps the conflict engaging and the chemistry sharp.

If one character starts with more power (social, political, magical, etc.), show the balance shift or even out over time. Maybe the more powerful one learns humility. Maybe the underdog gains confidence or leverage. This keeps the romance from feeling one-sided or unbalanced.

3. Gradually Shift the Tone

Let the hatred evolve in stages: Irritation → Respect → Curiosity → Affection → Love

Sprinkle moments of:

Vulnerability (they see a new side of the other)

Unexpected teamwork (they’re forced to rely on each other)

Banter that turns from biting to flirtatious

4. Use Intimacy in Small Doses

Tension thrives in proximity. Make them interact often, maybe unwillingly at first. Body language, awkward silences, or a brush of the hand can say a lot when feelings are complicated. Don’t rush the romance. The longer it simmers, the more satisfying the payoff.

5. Force Them to Re-Evaluate

Something should cause a shift in perspective, maybe the "enemy" does something selfless or shows surprising depth. They realize their initial judgment was wrong or incomplete. Internal conflict is key here. Let them resist falling in love before they accept it.

6. Let Them See Each Other at Their Worst... and Best

It’s easy to love someone when they’re charming. But realistic enemies-to-lovers arcs involve characters witnessing each other’s low points (failures, flaws, vulnerability, etc.) This builds empathy, and that’s what turns conflict into connection.

7. Acknowledge the Past

Don’t sweep their antagonistic history under the rug. Have them talk about it. A good resolution includes:

An apology or mutual understanding

Growth from both sides

Acknowledgement that love doesn’t erase the past, but it builds on top of it

8. Give Them a Bond That Justifies the Shift

Love isn’t just "we stopped fighting." It’s "we learned from our differences." Let them find something shared:

A common goal

A mutual vulnerability

A deep belief or value

Even just a sense of humor that breaks the tension

9. Keep Their Voice Consistent Through the Shift

As they fall for each other, don’t make them suddenly sappy or soft-spoken unless it’s in character or they’re resisting it. Keep their sarcasm, bluntness, or bite, but redirect it. Now, it’s flirtier. More protective. Slightly gentler.

10. Make Their Love Transform Them, But Not Fix Them

They shouldn’t change their core beliefs for the other, but because of the experience the other provides. They challenge each other’s worldviews, make each other question things. The love should feel like a consequence of character growth, not the cause of it.

11. Your Readers Should Ship It Before the Characters Do

Plant the emotional groundwork early, even if the characters are being stubborn. Your readers should start rooting for them mid-argument, mid-banter, mid-moment-of-tension.

[hyunsuloves]

can we get more myung gi/ player 333 oneshots/hcs plsss (if u can)💕💕

boyfriend myung-gi in the games.

warnings … there may be some typos, i apologize

lovely notes … ask & you shall receive ml 🙂‍↕️

꩜ [ 600 words ]

boyfriend myung-gi who cherishes the small moments with you. the moments after games, moments right before lights out, and even the minuscule moments like when he makes direct eye contact with you from across the room.

boyfriend myung-gi who lets you get in line before him because you’re his top priority, always.

boyfriend myung-gi who always gives you a share of his food. he doesn’t care about you saying you “don’t want it”, he insists that you stay more fed than him. he’ll put your well-being before his every time.

boyfriend myung-gi who is wary of all the other contestants, even more with you in the games with him. he doesn’t trust them, nor does he want you to blindly trust them.

boyfriend myung-gi who makes a silent vow to himself to protect you at the start of every game. he puts your welfare before his every time, so he will defend you with his entire life.

boyfriend myung-gi who always has a vice grip on your hand. whether you’re in a game, waiting to vote, or doing something so mundane such as sitting next to one another. he likes to feel you at all times, it anchors him in a way

boyfriend myung-gi who squeezes your hand just a bit tighter when thanos or nam-gyu walks by. they’re the last people he wants to get near either of you, so of course he feels a need to protect you.

boyfriend myung-gi who always moves your head to rest on his shoulder when sitting next to one another. or he places his head to rest on your lap. he just wants to be near you, is all.

boyfriend myung-gi who always wakes up before you. you sleep in his bed, and he can’t help himself but wake up a few hours before you. he enjoys the mere moments when he can have you in his arms without any concerns.

boyfriend myung-gi who’s the first to acknowledge you when you walk into a room. his eyes immediately shift to you when he’s in the same vicinity as you. it was like a magnetic force pulled his eyes to you every time.

boyfriend myung-gi who covers your eyes when other participants die. if possible, he’s going to shield you from the horror that is the reality of the death game you’re in. the last thing he wants you to see is lifeless bodies dropping left and right.

boyfriend myung-gi who randomly says “i love you”. he wants to remind you of his unwavering love all the time, of course.

boyfriend myung-gi who’s only level-minded around you. you’re the only one who can ground him because god knows how unbalanced he’d get without you.

boyfriend myung-gi who’s constantly near you during every game. red light, green light? you’re behind him. six-legged pentathlon? you’re obviously on the same team as him. mingle? you’re in every single group with him. other participants may see it as clinginess, but both of you see it as myung-gi protecting you with his everything.

boyfriend myung-gi who would quite literally fall to his knees if you got injured. he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you got wounded under his observation.

boyfriend myung-gi who has the most extravagant plans for when the both of you get out of the games. he has dozens of date plans just for when you make it out.

boyfriend myung-gi who sometimes feels like he doesn’t deserve you. you’re the only constant in the cruelty that you both found yourselves in. and he feels so undeserving of you and your tenderness so often.

[javiscigarette]

Teacher's Pet, part II

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: Joel gives you a few more lessons and a few more feelings start to surface. (Picks up right where part one left off so I recommend reading that first!)

Warnings: unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, oral (m!receiving), fingering, thigh riding, dirty talk, ungodly amount of pet names, unprotected sex, virginity loss (it's the real deal this time), he's back and more annoying than ever but still just as sweet, disgustingly fluffy at times, reader has hair he can run his fingers through but no other physical descriptions, no use of y/n

w/c: ......10.5k I am so sorry

a/n: It's here! I kept changing my mind with how I wanted this to go so hopefully I landed on something good. I'm absolutely still blown away by the amount of love and support you guys gave on part one :'))) you are all incredible. Hoping and praying this one lives up to everyone's expectations

Part One

my masterlist

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me" he huffs, but the feigned offense  is betrayed by the way he’s positively beaming down at you.  "I'm about to give you the best fuckin' lay of your life, and here you are makin' fun of me." "The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to." "Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.” "That's some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Getting on your knees for Joel Miller wasn’t exactly on your agenda for today. 

Not that you’re really complaining. 

He doesn’t look bad from this angle, you have to admit.  His chest looks broader from where you are on your knees in front of him, if that’s even possible. His hair is messy and tousled from where your fingers pulled and tugged with a pretty red flush spreading down his neck and chest, and the soft curve of his belly looking positively sinful. 

“First lesson is how to take a man’s pants off,” Joel starts. “Think you can handle that? Or do you need a demonstration first?” 

You scowl up at him, his words pulling you out of your transfixation on his body. 

“Shut up,” you hiss. “I can take your pants off.” 

He grins and raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah? Go on then. Show me.”

You roll your eyes but take a steadying breath, trying your best to calm your pounding pulse and trembling fingers as you reach up for his belt buckle. The metallic jingle has your heart fluttering in your chest, and you make quick work of the rest, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans until they’re hanging open in front of you.

You stop for a moment and glance up at him. He’s looking down at you, a soft encouraging smile playing on his lips. 

“S’okay, baby. Keep goin’,” he murmurs, nodding his head once. 

You give him a small nod and a tight swallow around the lump in your throat, dropping your gaze back to the task at hand. Gently, gingerly, you hook your fingers in the waistband of both his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down simultaneously. 

A tiny, barely audible gasp escapes you when his cock springs free and bobs heavily in front of you. 

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper, too stunned to stop the words from slipping out. 

“Just Joel if fine, actually.” 

You barely even register his jab and you definitely don’t have the bandwidth to come up with any kind of witty comeback right now, your mind too busy processing the sight before you. Sure, you’ve seen plenty of dicks before, the internet can be a magical place. But this, in person, up close and so real, is an entirely new experience. 

He's big, thick, heavy, and long with a slight upward curve. The tip is flushed a deep pink, shiny with smeared precome with more beading at the slit. A few thin veins run from his base to his tip up the length in a twisting pattern, the dark hair at his base neatly trimmed. And he’s hard, so much so that it looks nearly painful and your stomach flutters know that you're the one who did that to him.

"You can touch it, y'know." Joel says softly after a few moments of silence. "It ain't gonna bite."

"Oh my god" you groan, bringing up a hand to scrub down your face as he pulls you out of your awe. 

"Again, just Joel is fine."

He laughs proudly at his own joke and you drop your hands in your lap and stare up at him in disbelief. 

"Oh c'mon! You walked right into that one, no need to get all-"

He cuts himself off with a hiss, the air escaping between his teeth and his head falling back as your hand wraps around him, squeezing just a little too tight to be pleasant. He staggers half a step backward, hips jerking away from your grip.

"You were saying?'' you ask sweetly, grinning up at him.

"Fuckin' christ, woman. You're tryin' to get me off not break it off"

You loosen your grip a little but keep your hand still and look at him with expectant eyes, waiting for further instruction. It's not that you don't know what to do, you just don't know how to do it well. How to do it for him.

You want to do well for him.

The realization should alarm you, scare you even. But you find it only spurs you on, only makes the want burning inside of you even more potent and pressing. You want to make him moan, gasp, make his body writhe beneath your touch. You want him to be breathless, shivering, and panting with pleasure. You want to make him come undone, just like you did for him.

"Okay" he starts, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. "Lesson two is learning what he likes. Everyone's a lil different, but the basics are the same."

The nerves in your gut twist almost painfully, the anxiety of it all getting you half a second away from tapping out. 

But your decision is set in stone when he drops his hand to yours where it’s wrapped around him, giving a light squeeze before he starts to gently guide your movements. 

"Start slow,” he starts, a light strain tainting the edges of his voice. “Nice and gentle. Wanna work up to it."

You nod and watch, focused intently as if you were actually a student in class as the head of his cock disappears and reappears in your fist. His hand covers yours nearly entirely as he drags it up and down while you try and memorize where he squeezes a little tighter, when he swipes his thumb over the head. 

“Can give a little twist at the top,” he murmurs, voice low as he demonstrates what he means. “There you go, baby. Just like that,” he sighs when you do the same. 

Once satisfied, he removes his hand, letting you take control. You continue to pump him, trying to replicate the movements he just showed you. His cock is a warm, heavy weight in your hand, twitching and pulsing every now and then when you twist your wrist just right or swipe your thumb over his head like he showed you, collecting and spreading his precome to ease your strokes. 

Your confidence builds with each stroke and soon enough you start to experiment with your pace, switching between faster and slower. He gently rocks his hips in time with your hand, unable to resist thrusting forward just slightly.

The fire inside you burns even hotter at the shaky breath that he lets out above you, heat spreading through your veins like wildfire before settling low in your belly, your core aching and pulsing with it. 

"This good?" you ask concerned, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He lets out a breathless chuckle and looks down at you with heavy lidded eyes.

"Yeah, honey. Real good," he rasps, a small smile spreading across his lips.

You match his smile, biting your lip and basking in his praise, a warm, gooey feeling spreading outwards from your heart to the tips of your fingers and toes. It's like he has a direct link to the inner workings of your brain and body with how effortlessly he can make you melt, with just a soft, easy smile and a few well chosen words.

"Should I...do you want my mouth?" you ask, glancing between his flushed, leaking cock and his hooded eyes.

"God yes, baby. J-just start slow. Lick the tip, get a feel for it. Don't try to take too much right away," he instructs, his voice constricting more and more with each word. 

"So I shouldn't try to fit all of your giant cock in my mouth on my first go?" you quip, raising a brow.

"Please don't" he chuckles. "Don't want ya pukin’ all over the place. Might kill the mood," he adds with a grin.

You shake your head and let out a light laugh, the sound trailing off into a content hum when he brings his hand to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, dull nails scratching lightly at your scalp.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh, leaning into the touch.

"You love it."

You do, so, so much.

"Now c'mon. You've got work to do," he teases, his hand gently tugging at your hair.

You comply easily enough, leaning forward and tenderly swiping your tongue across the slit, licking up the precome that's gathered there. He hisses, a rush of hair pushing past his clenched teeth as  his cock twitches in your hand, a fresh bead of precome forming. 

With your confidence renewed by his reaction, you do it again, pressing your tongue flat against the slit and swirling it slowly around his swollen tip all while your hand still works him at a steady pace. 

Emboldened, you take it a step further and close your lips around him, sealing them around the head to give him a slow, experimental suck. The groan he rewards you with has sparks shooting down the length of your spine.

"That's it. Good girl. Just like that," he pants, fingers tugging and tightening in your hair.

His praise washes over you in another wave of warmth, a feeling akin to a full-body shiver that has goosebumps breaking out over your skin. It strokes your ego, pride and confidence filling you as his soft moans and grunts fuel the fire burning in your belly.

Encouraged by the way he’s already falling apart, you take him a little deeper. It’s only a few inches but your lips are already stretched wide, a slight ache already settling in your jaw from how wide it's being forced open. 

You keep your tongue flat against the underside of his cock while you start to bob your head, trying to match the pace of your hand. But the motions are new and unfamiliar, your movements clumsy and uncoordinated and when he hits the roof of your mouth, your gag reflex kicks in forcing you to pull off quickly, coughing and sputtering.

"Easy. Easy," Joel soothes, his fingers scratching at your scalp again. "Try to breathe through your nose. And don't don't force it, yeah? Feels good, just the way you were doin' it."

"Sorry," you apologize sheepishly, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Ain't nothing to be sorry for. S’your first time. It takes practice. Now, c'mon. Try again. Nice and easy. And if this man tries to-"

But you're not in the mood for another Joel Miller Life Lesson, especially when he’s about to mention the other man who's name you can barely even remember anymore. 

Thankfully, his words dissolve into a groan when you take him back in your mouth, your lips wrapping around his sensitive head, tongue flat where it slowly glides down the underside of his cock as you take him deeper. 

The ache in your core is quickly growing more and more incessant. You can still feel the ghost of his fingers and tongue on you, your inner thighs wet and sticky with the memory. And the sinful sounds he’s making, whispered curses between breathy moans and grunts, are not exactly helping your case. 

You manage to take a little more, his thick cock stretching your mouth wider, forcing your jaw open even further. You gag slightly around him again but you’re determined to push through it this time. YOu squeeze your eyes shut and breathe in harshly through your nose as saliva dribbles past the tight seal of your mouth and drips onto your hand, your fist diligently pumping what you can't take.

He responds with a low, guttural groan, his hips jerking forward, chasing after the sensation of your throat convulsing around him. 

You're still only a little over halfway down and it's a quick realization that you'll never be able to get it all down your throat. Maybe you can try and practice, but it’s practically a pipe dream to even think about getting his whole cock into your throat without choking to death on it.

But that's a problem for another day. 

For the next time. 

For now, you hollow out your cheeks and suck as you pull back, tongue swirling along the underside until his cock leaves your mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting your swollen, spit-slicked lips to his glistening tip. 

You use your hand to spread the wetness, mixing it with the precome that's leaking steadily from the flushed head. The smooth glide allows you to speed up your pace as you look up at him through your lashes, trying to gauge his reaction.

He's staring down at you with hazy, lust blown eyes, his jaw hanging open, panting heavily.

"How am I doing, Professor?" you tease with an innocent smile. A lazy grin slowly spreads on his face in return.

"You’re a fuckin’ natural, baby," he mumbles, his hand moving from where it's tangled in your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the apple of your flushed cheek, "My good girl."

And maybe, most likely, the words slipped out unintentionally, the heat of the moment forcing out things that he doesn’t really mean. But all the alarms and sirens in your head warning yourself to not fall too deep into this trap that is Joel Miller with his pretty words and sweet praises and soft smiles are all dead silent right now. There’s not a single part of your brain that’s trying to resist him right now. You doubt you could even if you wanted to. 

Because he just called you his girl. 

His.

To say you’re fucked would be the understatement of the century. 

You hum, pressing your cheek into his palm, wanting, needing, craving more. More of his touch, his taste, his warmth, his cock, his praise. So you take him back in your mouth with a renewed determination, spurred on by his words, wanting to prove to him that he's right, that you are his good girl. Determined to show him that you can make him feel good, that you can please him, that he'll want more of you, need more of you.

And judging by the way his grip on your hair is almost painful, his thighs trembling as he holds himself still, fighting the urge to jerk his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat, you'd say you're doing a damn good job

"Makin’ me feel so good, baby. So fuckin' good," he pants when you take him a little deeper.

You whine quietly around him as you press your sticky thighs together. White hot heat pooling low in your belly, your neglected cunt throbbing and aching, slick, wet, and messy. 

You squirm in your spot, rubbing your thighs together and grinding down on nothing in desperate search for the slightest bit of friction. You pray that the movement is subtle enough for Joel not to notice. 

As if that’s possible.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Joel starts, his tone annoyingly saccharine and condescending as he smirks down at you. “Did we forget somethin’ important?” 

Another small whimper is all you can muster, too focused and preoccupied with the way his thick length is filling your mouth, the weight and taste of him on your tongue dizzying and addicting. 

“Well look at that,” he coos, his hand leaving your hair and sliding down your cheek to cradle your  jaw. He swipes swiping over your bottom lip that’s stretched around his length, smearing the spit that’s gathered there.

“Think I finally found a way to shut ya up. We should’a done this a long time ago. Woulda saved me a lot of headaches,” he chuckles, the sound dissolving into a sharp hiss when you dig your nails into the tender skin of the back of his thigh, hard enough to leave a mark.

You pull off his cock with a wet pop, jaw aching as you glare up at him. 

"I'd shut up if I were you" you warn, the threat of your words completely lost in the breathless, desperate way they leave your mouth. "Just one good chomp is all it would take" you add, clicking your teeth together for emphasis.

But Joel's face just splits into a grin, a full blown, infuriating smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. 

"Biting huh? Now that’s a little kinky. Didn't know you had it in you, sweetheart."

"Shut up," you snap, but it still lacks any real heat, not with the way your lips are twitching at the corners, fighting a smile, your eyes undoubtedly sparkling, your heart definitely leaping out of your chest at the way his eyes are boring into yours.

"Careful, sweetheart. Might have to knock you down a whole letter grade for that type of talk. Gotta respect your professor ‘n all, y’know."

"You're insufferable," you grumble.

"But yet, here you are, still on your knees."

"And I'm gonna get up and leave if you don't stop talking."

"Leave before or after you chomp my dick off? Cause I'd really like a heads up for that, if ya could."

"Jesus fucking christ, Joel!" You huff, rolling your eyes so hard it actually hurts. "Do you ever just shut the fuck up? I'm literally on my knees right now with your dick in my mouth and you're still finding ways to piss me off!"

“What can I say? It’s a special talent of mine,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, the smug smile on his face making you want to genuinely bite his dick off now.

You drop the wet hand you had wrapped around him and start to move to your feet.

"You know what, I'm just gonna go. Maybe I'll call my coworker. He's not nearly as irritating as you," you huff, pushing yourself up onto shaky legs, your knees stiff and sore. 

But you can't even take one step before he's grabbing your waist, his large, warm palm resting firmly on the swell of your hip. His fingers flex, his grip tightening, not enough to hurt, but it's enough to halt you in your tracks. You're not particularly fond of the way your heart skips a beat in your chest, the way you can feel goosebumps breaking out all over your body from just his touch. 

He pulls you in closer until your chest is pressed against his, hard, wet cock pressed against your bare thigh.

"You really think you’re gonna leave with your pussy drippin' all over the place like that?” he says, his voice seamlessly switching from teasing to low and rough as his dark, hungry eyes bore into yours. “You're about to ruin my floors with the way you're leakin' right now, baby. Wouldn’t want that, now would we?” 

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment from how easily he was able to see your desperation, and with anger at how right he is. 

"Shut the fuck up, Joel," you mumble, giving him a weak push at his chest. "I'm not leaking I-"

The rest of your sentence stays lodged in your throat when his free hand slips between your thighs. Two deft fingers drag through the slick mess, collecting your arousal and spreading it around, a soft, wet, obscene sound filling the space between you. 

You don't even think to stop the high pitched, breathy whine from escaping your lips when he slides a thick finger inside you with no warning, your pathetic sound dissolving into a moan when he immediately follows it up with a second one, his palm pressed flat against your clit.

"Not leaking, hmm? Sure don't seem like it, baby," he purrs, his voice a low, rumbling drawl, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. "Feel that? How easy it was for me to get two fingers in ya?"

"Fuck," you whine as you dig your nails into the bare skin of his shoulder, hanging on to him and desperately searching for any semblance of stability as you try not to sway on shaky legs.

He crooks his fingers in you, fingertips digging into the spongy spot on your front wall that has your knees buckling, tiny stars dotting your vision momentarily as a rush of arousal gushes out of you, a pitiful whimper falling from your lips. Joel chuckles, low and dark and the sound shoots straight to your neglected clit, a bolt of lightning arcing down your spine.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he murmurs, nosing at the sensitive skin below your ear, the faint scrape of his beard against your cheek sending a shiver down your spine. 

The feeling of him removing his fingers is a cruel, sudden jolt, the emptiness and lack of pressure and friction has you keening, a needy, impatient noise bubbling up from your throat.

He's moving before you can complain though, stepping around you to sit on the edge of the bed and then promptly pulling you down onto his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise as he forces you to straddle his thigh, pulling you down until your aching cunt is seated firmly against his bare skin. The position has his cock pressing against your hip, a drop of precome smearing against your skin.

"Fuckin' soaked for me, honey,” he drawls, his fingertips dimpling the soft skin of your hips. “And to think you were about to leave without gettin' what you came here for.” 

You can't even speak, too enraptured with the feeling of his strong muscles flexing subtly under your hypersensitive clit. So you ignore his teasing and just grind down instead, past the point of desperation. 

But he would never let you win that easily, would he? 

He laughs and tightens his grip on your hips, stopping your movement and holding you in place.

"Ah-ah, not so fast, baby. Let's talk about the terms first."

You give him the best glare you can muster while suppressing a needy whimper. 

"Terms?"

"Yeah. Terms. Of all this. Like if this is a one time thing, or if we're gonna be havin' regular...lessons," he replies, his hands slowly sliding up your waist and coming to rest on your ribs, his thumbs stroking the undersides of your breasts. 

"If you're gonna go out with this guy," he continues, his thumbs brushing over both of your nipples. "Or if I'm the only one who's gonna get to see this," he says, leaning forward, his warm breath fanning over your skin. You bite your lip, holding in the soft, needy moan threatening to spill out when his lips press to the hollow of your throat.

"If I'm the only one who gets to have you like this. If I'm the only one who's allowed to touch you. To kiss you," he says, punctuating his last word with a kiss to the center of your chest, his hands squeezing the swell of your breasts, his tongue flicking out and licking at your nipple.

"Or do you plan on letting him have you too?" He asks, the tip of his tongue swirling around your nipple before closing his lips around the pebbled peak, sucking it into his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing it before he pulls back. "'Cause I'm not too keen on sharin', baby."

You take a deep steadying breath, trying to clear the thick haze that's clouding your mind and focus on his words, his questions about the fucking terms. 

And you do think about it, about your coworker who's been nothing but so sweet to you, who doesn't get on your nerves in under a millisecond. The coworker, Micheal, you think, his name finally returning to you, who doesn't tease you and play games and leave you a panting, needy, dripping mess. 

And while he is really such a perfect gentleman, he isn’t the one that’s been there for you, listening to you complain about all the shitty things that have happened to you in the last year. He isn’t the man that lets you use him as a punching bag whenever you’re frustrated, has never been the calm, reasonable voice that challenges the anxiety that overwhelms you and threatens to pull you under. 

Michael has never held you when you've cried, never helped you cook dinner after a hard day at work, never fixed the flickering light in your bathroom. He certainly has never dropped a key to his front door in your palm accompanied by a lopsided smile and the words just in case ya need anything. 

Michael isn’t the one who’s been the one to pick up your pieces and put you back together, so gently and tenderly, making you even better than you were before.

It's useless, trying to avoid it. Trying to push it down, bury it, ignore it, how you've been feeling and what you want. 

It’s Joel.

All of it. 

You want Joel. 

All of him. 

You've wanted him since the day you showed up on his porch with a six pack. You've wanted him all those times you watched from a distance as he fixed something in your house, so capable and competent, casually waving away your slew of thank yous. You wanted him every single time he invited you over for a movie night, sitting close enough to you on his couch that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. You wanted him every time he made your blood boil and your eyes roll so hard you swore you could see the back of your brain, and every time you genuinely thought you were going to smack him. 

And now, you have him.

Right here, naked and hard and underneath you, your pussy leaking on his thigh. 

The answer is so painfully obvious, the words falling from your lips before you even have a chance to process them.

"M'not gonna see him," you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Want this. Want you."

Joel hums, indicating that he heard you. But again, he would never let you win that easily. 

"Speak up, baby," Joel says, releasing your nipple with a soft pop, his eyes dark and intense, a predatory, feral glint in them. "Can't hear you."

And it's infuriating and annoying, absolutely maddening. And it's the last straw.

You're not sure if it's the frustration, or the pent up desire, or the heat burning inside you, or the fact that Joel's still hard, and still leaking precum against your hip, as your cunt slides against his thigh, but you break.

You absolutely shatter.

"I want you!" you practically shout, hands balling into fists where they're resting on his shoulders. 

"You, okay? You! You and your stupid, fucking, annoying ass, and your dumbass pickup truck, and your stupid, charming grin, and the way you always call me 'baby', and 'honey', and 'sweetheart'. It drives me fucking insane!  And the way you're always fixing shit, and being so fucking helpful and sweet and you always, always make me laugh, and smile, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by in the past year that I didn’t think about you and I can’t get you out of my fucking head, not even for a single fucking second.” 

The words spill from your lips in a breathless tirade, and it feels good, freeing. It's like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, like a great burden has been taken off of you. 

But the feeling doesn't last long.

Silence stretches between you and it's suffocating, oppressive, and you feel like the walls are closing in on you, panic rising in your chest.

Your cheeks burn, nauseating embarrassment and humiliation coursing through you as you realize the full weight of what you just word-vomited all over him. Your chest heaves, and you hang your head, unable to bring yourself to look at him.

But then, a bright laugh sounds through the otherwise quiet room. And your eyes snap to Joel's face, only to find him smiling.

He's fucking laughing.

"Joel!" you scold, a mixture of mortification and confusion washing over you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he placates, but the laughter in his voice doesn't help to ease your nerves. "I didn't mean to laugh, it's just...I just can't believe how dense you are."

The daggers you shoot at him are truly deadly. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Do you think I just go around callin' everyone 'baby' and 'sweetheart'?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"I..." you stammer, trailing off as his words sink in. 

"I mean, my southern charm is one thing,” he says, obnoxiously wiggling his eyebrows. “But you’re seriously thick if  you think I'm like this with anyone else.” 

You stare blankly at him, trying to process what he’s saying. 

“Do you think I let all the neighbors just use me for free handy work, think I cook dinner with all of them, think I keep a stash of everyone’s favorite snacks in my pantry, give everyone a fuckin’ key to my front door? And you think I just go around agreeing to sex lessons to anyone who asks?” He rambles, squeezing your hip. 

Your brain is reeling as you try to wrap your head around everything. 

"Well...no” you stammer, your brows pinching together.  “But…"

"How many other girls you seen me bringin' home? Huh? How many other girls you see me with?"

"None" you admit sheepishly.

"Mhm. Because I don't. Not since you moved in next door."

You frown, confusion clouding your features. You open your mouth to speak but Joel cuts you off.

"I like you, baby," he admits with a sigh. "A lot. Maybe too much. But I wasn't about to lose you as a friend just because I'm crazy about you. And if being your friend is the only way I can be close to you, then I'd take it and die a happy man."

You can only stare at him, the words he just spoke bouncing around in your brain, and a warmth blooms in your chest, your heart fluttering wildly in your ribcage.

"Are you kidding me?!" You exclaim suddenly, hitting his shoulder.

"Hey! Ow!" he barks, his eyes widening as he grabs his shoulder. "The fuck was that for?!"

"You've been trying to sleep with me for a whole year?!"

"I wouldn’t say trying," he says with a casual shrug. "Just waiting. Wanted you to take the lead but you’re a little stubborn, baby."

You scoff, glaring at him, not missing the way his lips twitch at the corners, the way his eyes sparkle with amusement.

"So, the reason why I haven't been able to catch a break the entire time we've known each other, has been because you've been trying to get in my pants? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Well, that part is just natural. You're just too easy to get riled up. And that’s not my fault."

You open your mouth to argue with him but his sliding over your hips to palm at your ass and his lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin.

"But no, I can't deny that I like it," he rasps, his breath warm against the side of your neck. "The way you get all fired up and angry, your face all flushed, your chest heaving. Mmm, it's nice. You look real pretty when you're all worked up and pissed off," he whispers, his lips curled in a smile when he presses a kiss to the spot below your ear before pulling back to look at you. 

"Why didn't you tell me,” you say, voice softer now, the rough edges of your tone smoothed out by the feeling of his lips on your skin.

"Didn't want to make it weird. Didn't want you to think I was some creepy old man and ruin our friendship" he explains with a small shrug. "But then you came over here tonight askin’ for a sex lesson, which was not easy by the way, acting like I wasn't already about to burst outta my pants as soon as you asked. Thought for sure you were onto me. But then you started going on about that douche canoe Michael-"

"Joel."

"And then I got jealous and pissed, and figured it was time to cut my losses and just enjoy it while I can, but-"

"Joel."

"Then we were kissing and you were touchin’ me and you're so fucking sexy and-"

"Joel!"

"What?"

"Just kiss me, you idiot" you breathe, and before the words are even fully out of your mouth, his lips are on yours, crashing into you with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs.

It’s bruising, searing, all consuming.

His fingers dig into the meat of your ass as he pulls you forward, the seam of your pussy dragging deliciously against the strong muscles under warm skin. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and tug, the base of your spine tingling when he groans softly into your mouth, and you grind your hips against his, the wet heat of your cunt grinding into his thigh, pulling another soft, low sound from his throat.

"Fuck" he groans, pulling away just far enough to press his forehead to yours, his breath coming in quick, sharp pants, his chest heaving. "Baby, are you still okay with this?" he breathes, voice ragged and gravelly.

You look at him as if he's grown a second head.

"Are you serious?"

""I...well, I was serious when I said I'd be fine with being your friend, and I don't want you to think I'm tryna pressure you into anything."

You can't help but roll your eyes, the soft, endearing side of Joel coming out at the worst possible time.

"I literally just admitted that I've had a crush on you for months, and now I'm sitting on your lap, soaked, and grinding on your thigh and you're worried I don't want this? I think you might be the dense one here."

He grins, wicked and wide, a flash of sharp teeth, the dimple in his cheek deepening.

"Guess so," he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You don't respond, and instead choose to silence him by pulling him into a kiss, licking at the seam of his lips and sucking his tongue into your mouth. He groans softly into your mouth, and you swallow the noise, rolling your hips again, chasing the sweet friction that's sending a delicious heat through your veins.

"God, baby," he breathes when he pulls back for air, hands on your ass gripping and guiding you against his leg, encouraging your movements. "Makin' such a mess, ain't ya?"

You bite your lip, nodding as a wave of arousal surges through you.

"Yeah, you are. Soakin' my leg, sweet girl," he says, his eyes flicking down between you, watching as your pussy drags along his thigh, coating him in a shiny, slippery sheen.

"Fuck, Joel, please" you whine, your hips jerking and rolling against him.

And that's all the encouragement he needs.

In the blink of an eye, you're on your back, Joel hovering above you, a wild look in his eyes.

"Don't worry, baby," he says, his voice low and husky, and he trails his fingers over your hip and up your ribs, his touch light, teasing, barely ghosting across your skin and it's almost ticklish, making you shiver. "M'gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good."

Your heart thunders in your chest, and your cunt throbs, your arousal leaking out of you. It feels like you’re about to crawl out of your own skin, the desperation growing with every passing second. 

He trails his fingers down your sternum, and over the flat expanse of your stomach, goosebumps breaking out across your skin in his wake, the muscles under your skin rippling and twitching at the soft, fleeting touches.

And when he reaches the crease of your thigh, you let out a shaky, trembling breath, and he chuckles softly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

"Eager, are we?" he teases, dragging his fingers over the slick flesh between your legs, gathering the wetness pooled there before slowly sliding a single thick digit inside you. "We're gonna get there, baby. But gotta make sure you're ready first. Don't wanna hurt you.”

You whimper, your walls fluttering and clenching around his finger, and your hips roll forward, seeking friction, wanting, needing more.

Joel curses under his breath and groans softly when your wet, warm walls constrict around his finger. His cock leaks and twitches where it’s pressed against your thigh, and you whimper, both of you caught up in an endless cycle of keying each other up. 

"Please, Joel" you beg, and the words come out soft, pleading, and desperate. You should probably be embarrassed at how quickly he's reduced you to a begging, quivering mess, but the way his eyes go dark, and his pupils blow wide, makes the embarrassment worth it.

"Please, what, baby?” He prods with a devilish smirk. “Use your words"

"You're such an asshole" you snap, but the venom in your voice is diluted with pleasure as he slips another finger inside you.

"You keep saying that. What d’ya want me to do about it, sweetheart? You want me to stop?" he taunts. 

"No!" you cry out, reaching down and grabbing his wrist with an iron grip when he starts to pull out. 

"Then tell me what you want, honey."

"Fuck you,” you mumble weakly. 

"Mhm. Okay, honey" he drawls,  his thumb moving  to circle around your clit as his fingers curl inside you, still pumping in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. . "I'll just wait then. Take my time. Tease your pretty little pussy until you can't stand it. I'm in no hurry, baby. Gonna take all night, if that's what it takes. I've waited this long."

"Joel, please" you whine again, the ache between your thighs turning to an unbearable burn.

"Tell me what you want,” he repeats casually. 

"You," you try with a needy whimper.

"Me? You got me, sweetheart. What else?"

“Oh my fucking god can you please just fuck me? Or do I have to spell it out for you, old man?"

"There she is," Joel says with a laugh, his grin splitting his face "There's my girl"

And then his fingers are gone and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But before you can protest much more,, they're sliding back in, this time joined by a third.

Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping him, nails digging into the soft flesh of his muscles.

"Oh fuck" you pant, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he starts pumping his fingers again. 

"Gotta get ya ready, baby" he breathes, and his lips are ghosting along your jawline and up the shell of your ear, his breath warm.  "Such a tight little pussy, but we'll get you nice and open, don’t worry.  Then I'm gonna sink in ya, fill you up real nice. Take real good care of you, baby. Fuck you nice and deep, make you forget your name. Would you like that? Hmm?"

A strangled moan is all you can manage in response. His words, filthier and more deranged than any you've ever heard him speak before, sending your brain into overdrive. 

You can’t help but roll your hips, and bucking, and gyrating, meeting his thrusts as his fingers pump in and out of you, the lewd, wet, sloppy sounds filling the otherwise quiet room, and the coil in your gut is threatening to snap.

"Joel, Joel, fuck, oh fuck" you chant, your hazy and thick with pure arousal. It drips down your spine and flows through your veins, liquid heat burning, searing, and  scorching you from the inside out. 

You manage to open your eyes long enough to look down and see the tendons flexing in his wrist, the muscles and veins in his forearm bulging as he works you, his face brows pinched in concentration as he focuses on your reactions. 

"Oh shit, honey," Joel curses breathlessly, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he feels your slick pooling in his palm. “So messy, baby. You gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna be a good girl and lemme feel your sweet little cunt clench and drip even more around my fingers?"

You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he thrusts his fingers into you, the heel of his palm rubbing deliciously against your clit. Your fingers scrabble for purchase, desperately seeking something, anything, to ground yourself. You settle for the firm muscle of his arms, your nails biting into his skin and leaving bright red marks that'll undoubtedly leave little half-moon bruises later

"Fuck, yeah, c’mon, sweetheart, lemme feel. Give it to me."

You come with a cry, the dam breaking, the tension in your gut exploding outward, a wave of euphoria crashing over you, washing through every inch of your body. Your legs tremble and shake, and Joel works you through it, his fingertips nudging that spongy spot inside you, dragging his thumb across your throbbing clit, milking you through the aftershocks, and when you start to come down, you're panting and breathless, your chest heaving.

You look up at Joel, and his eyes are blown wide, the deep, rich brown of his irises nothing more than a thin, dark ring around his dilated pupils. There are no words, at least none that you can manage to articulate at the moment, so instead you let out a breathless laugh, and a contented hum, a smile spreading across your lips.

Joel grins, laughing, and he leans down to capture your lips in a chaste kiss.

"Good girl" he breathes against your mouth, his words a low, rough rumble that has you keening. "That feel good, baby?"

"Fuck, yeah" you sigh, melting into the matress. 

"Good,” he says before pressing a kiss to your forehead then pulling back to look you in the eyes again. “ Think you're ready for me now?"

“Mhm,” you murmur with a lazy nod. “Want you, Joel.” 

Joel laughs, the sound sweeter than it’s ever sounded before.. "You've got me, sweetheart. You've had me. Always will."

"That's awfully fucking sappy," you tease breathlessly, threading your fingers into his soft dark hair. 

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me" he huffs, but the feigned offense is  betrayed by the way he’s positively beaming down at you.  "I'm about to give you the best fuckin' lay of your life, and here you are makin' fun of me."

"The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to."

"Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, raising a brow at him. 

"That’s some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Joel barks out a laugh, the sound coming out more like a snarl, his eyes flashing with something feral, predatory, and dangerous at your challenge.

And then he’s abruptly pulling his fingers from you then  bringing them up to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the slick coating his fingers. The sight nearly puts you into cardiac arrest.

"So fuckin' sweet" he murmurs, his eyes slipping closed momentarily, and a low, satisfied hum rumbles in his chest. It's downright obscene, the way his lips wrap around his fingers, how he licks and sucks, cleaning your arousal off of them. 

"Joel," you breathe, your voice nothing more than a shaky exhale.

His eyes snap open, and he gives you a lopsided smirk. 

"Sorry, baby,” he starts, pulling his fingers from his mouth and wiping them on the blanket underneath you. “Can’t help myself. Just had to taste ya again. Gonna have a hard time not doing that every time,” he finishes with a sly smile. 

Every time. 

The words are like a shock of electricity shooting through your veins, setting your blood ablaze. Every time. As in multiple times. 

How the fuck is this real? 

He  stupid smirk is still glued to his face as he leans over to rummage around in the drawer of his nightstand. Your brows furrow when he pulls out a condom and goes to open it. 

"I...uh..." you start, but the words die in your throat.

"What's wrong?" Joel asks, his smug expression immediately morphing into one of concern.

"I...well...it's just, I'm- I'm on the pill… We can use a condom, but...it's not necessary…just wanted to put that out there. In case, you know…you didn't wanna use one. Since it's not...like, not entirely necessary,” you say quietly, casting your eyes down to where your fingers fiddle with the edge of the blanket. 

"Ahh, I see,” Joel responds, all too pleased. “You just want me to raw dog it, huh?” 

"Wha-no! Oh my god, Joel, you are so fucking embarrassing," you groan, covering your face with your hands. 

"S'okay, honey, don’t be embarrassed. It is all part of the full Joel Miller Experience anyway,” he reassures you with a sickeningly sweet tone.. 

"Oh my fucking god, I told you not to say that ever again,” you groan, shoving at his shoulder, which only makes him laugh. And you can feel yourself smiling too, despite how irked you are.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop," he relents, still laughing a little. "If you really don't want me to use one, I guess I can make an exception, just for you"

And it's as if he knows that you're about to lash out at him again, because he leans down and presses his lips to yours before you have a chance to say anything, all the fight in you draining away as soon as his mouth is on yours.

"You tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers when he pulls back. “Or if I do anything you're uncomfortable with, or if you just need a break. You let me know, okay?"

You nod.

"Promise?"

"I promise, Joel. Please just get on with it."

"Impatient" he breathes, but  kisses you again nonetheless, soft, slow, and tender. And when he pulls away, his eyes are searching yours like he's looking for any signs of hesitancy. But all he sees is the same raw desire reflected back in your wide, eager eyes. 

You see the exact moment that the last vestiges of his self-restraint disappear, his gaze growing darker and hungrier as he pushes himself up to sit back  on his knees, one  hand around the base of his cock, the other  on the inside of your thigh as he tenderly spreads you open and settles himself between your legs.

He teases you of course, dragging his length through your folds, letting the swollen, leaking tip catch on your clit before sliding back down to nudge at your entrance. You whimper, and try to grind against him, but his hand is firm, holding your hip still, not allowing you any friction.

He hushes you softly, his thumb gently stroking the soft, delicate skin where your hip meets your thigh. "Just let me do what I need to do, baby. Let me take care of you.” 

"You're evil," you whine, squirming underneath him.

"Yeah, well, that's a matter of opinion" he grunts, your breath hitching when he lines himself up and finally, finally pushes the blunt tip of his cock inside you.

Your lips part on a gasp, the feeling of his thick head stretching you open, the slight burn of the intrusion, a mixture of aching and pure pleasure. And you can feel his eyes practically burning holes in your skin, drinking in every little reaction, every flutter of your lashes, every twitch of your brow.

"How's that?" he asks, his voice tight and strained. He looks just as wrecked as you feel, his jaw tight, a sheen of sweat already on his brow, the muscles in his forearms bulging with the effort of restraining himself.

"More," is all you manage to rasp out, pushing your hips up, trying to get him to sink deeper.

Joel grunts, and then obliges, his eyes screwed shut in concentration as he tries to feed you only a little more of his considerable length. You can see him chewing on his lip, his nostrils flaring, a slight tremble in his thighs, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Jesus fuck, you're tight" he grits out, his chest heaving as he tries to regain some of his composure. "I-I didn't…fuck, I didn't think- shit. God fuckin' damn, baby"

You smile a little, the corners of your lips curling upwards. It's the first time you've ever seen him truly at a loss for words, and it's a very welcome change. 

You reach up and card your fingers through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed, a sweet sigh escaping his lips at the feeling.

"I can take more," you say softly.

Joel shakes his head, his brow furrowed. "Not yet."

But you don't listen. Not that you ever really listen to him. 

Your impatience gets the best of you and you push yourself further down the bed, forcing another inch of his cock inside you, your walls fluttering wildly around him as you let out a low moan. 

"Ah fuck, honey," he groans, his eyes flying open.

"C'mon, Joel. More. Please," you beg, grinding down on his cock, taking just a little bit more with each roll of your hips until his fingers dig into your hips so hard, you're sure they'll leave bruises.

"Baby stop fuckin' movin'" he hisses, his grip tightening even further. "Please."

You can hear the strain in his voice, and you can feel him trembling above you, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing and tensing.

"Why not?" you pout.

"Cause m'tryin' not to fuckin' come right now, alright?" he grunts, his teeth gritted. "So please, just stop. For a minute."

"You can't possibly be serious," you breathe, a smile creeping on your face again. "You're not even all the way in yet."

He glares down at you, his eyes narrowing. "Not my fault you're fuckin' tight as shit. It's like your cunt is tryin' to strangle me."

You giggle a little, the sound coming out breathy and light. You don't miss the way Joel's cock twitches at the sound.

"You're being so dramatic," you sigh, rolling your hips again.

"Fuck, honey, please," he begs, his eyes pleading, and the sight is almost enough to make you stop teasing him.

Almost. 

You can't help the devilish smirk that crosses your face as you bring your hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb across the stubble on his chin. He lets his eyes fall closed again, leaning into your touch. 

"This isn't very 'best lay your life' behavior."

"I will fuckin' strangle you," he mutters, his eyes still closed, a smile playing on his lips.

"Is that part of the Joel Miller Experience too? Because I don't remember seeing it in the brochure. Was it next to the premature ejaculation section? Or maybe the-"

The air is knocked right out of your lungs, cut off mid-sentence when Joel pushes forward. He keeps it slow but unrelenting, sinking into you in one smooth, fluid motion. You cry out, your back arching off the bed, eyes screwing shut as your fists twist in the blanket underneath you. 

It's more than overwhelming, it's absolutely mind melting the way he buries himself completely, stretching your walls, forcing them to make room for him, to mold perfectly around his length. You gasp for air between harsh pants and weak cries, the sensation of him filling you up, so much bigger than you expected, so much thicker than his fingers. You squirm underneath him, trying to get used to the feeling of his tip pressed against your cervix, the pressure building deliciously as the ache radiates from your core through your belly, to the tips of your toes.

"That what you wanted, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice strained and gruff, one hand still gripping your hip as he presses the other into the mattress by your head, holding himself up. "Is that enough for you?"

You struggle to find words, but you're not even sure if there are any in the English language that can convey just how good it feels.

"Uh-huh," you nod, blinking rapidly as the edges of your vision start to blur. "Fuck, Joel. You're so fucking big, oh my god."

You hear him chuckle, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple.

"Not too much though, is it? Cause you were begging for more just a second ago. Thought you could take it, sweetheart," he croons, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

"No, no, 'sgood, " you whimper, the words slurring together as he starts to grind into you. "F-fuck. Joel. Shit, that feels so good. Holy fuck.

"There's my good girl," he murmurs, pressing more kisses to your cheek and your jaw, trailing down the column of your neck. His lips brush against the sensitive skin, his breath hot against you. He lets you get used to the feeling, cursing under his breath and trying to think of anything else but the tight, wet heat convulsing around his cock.

"Doesn't hurt?" he asks with a sudden tenderness, his voice vibrating against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"No," you sigh, finally starting to relax around him.

"Good. You gonna let me know if it does, right baby? Or if you need me to stop?"

You nod weakly. "Mhm."

He kisses you then, a soft, languid, and lazy drag of his lips against yours. He slides his tongue along your lower lip, and you let him in without any hesitation, parting your lips with a breathy sigh. He takes the opportunity to swallow down every little sound that spills from your mouth, kissing you with a kind of reverence, a kind of tenderness, a kind of patience and passion that makes your heart feel like it might beat right out of your chest. 

He pulls away leaving you even more breathless and dizzy, your lips tingling and swollen. And you're not sure if it's because of the kiss or the way he's stretching you so fucking wide, but your fucking drunk on it. 

He kisses you once more, on the corner of your mouth, his lips curling up into a smile when you nuzzle against his cheek, seeking out more.

"You still with me, honey?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here," you answer, your voice sounding far away, distant and dreamy. Joel chuckles, the sound making you smile. 

"You wanna keep going, sweetheart? Or d'ya need a minute?"

"I'm good, I'm good," you assure him, trying to lift your hips a little. "You can...keep going."

"Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?"

You nod and then close your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as Joel pulls out, just a little, his cock dragging along your walls. It's another wave of overwhelming sensation, your entire body shaking. But it's nothing compared to the feeling when he pushes back in. The same full, aching, almost painful stretch, except it's somehow even better this time, your walls gripping him tighter, pulling him in, trying to keep him there.

"Fuck, oh my god, oh my god," you cry, your breath catching in your throat, your eyes fluttering open to look up at him. "Oh, Joel, fuck."

He's hovering over you, his brows furrowed in concentration, the muscles in his arms, chest and stomach flexing and contracting as he moves above you.

"Good?" he asks, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, his eyes hooded.

You answer with a nod, followed by a long, low moan when he starts to slowly pull out again, pushing back in a bit faster this time. He builds a rhythm, the slick drag of his cock filling you up again and again, each thrust a little deeper, a little harder, a little faster.

"You're taking it so good," he pants, his hips snapping against yours with a particularly hard thrust, the force of which has you keening and crying out his name. Your walls clench around him, a gush of slick pouring out around his cock as you subconsciously try to pull him in even further.

"God you're so fucking tight, baby. Fuckin' soaked too, dripping all over me. Fuck. So fucking wet and perfect," he groans, his voice sounding strained, almost like he's in pain. "Such a good fucking girl."

You can't do anything more than just lay there and let him fuck into you, the sounds that spill from your lips a mix of moans, whimpers and desperate little cries. Your brain feels like mush, all thought processes reduced to a single loop of his name, your lips chanting it over and over.

And Joel's not much better, the only coherent words out of his mouth a string of praises, calling you his good girl, telling you how well you're taking him, how fucking tight you are, how heavenly you feel. His hands are everywhere too, caressing, stroking, kneading, squeezing, leaving no inch of your skin untouched.

He finds a steady rhythm and you know it's not nearly as hard as he could go, not by a long shot, but every thrust and drag of his cock hits you so deep and so hard, it's a miracle that you don't shatter beneath him. And the sounds, god the sounds are so obscene, the slapping of skin against skin, the wet, squelching noises of him pounding into your dripping cunt. It's a chorus of pure debauchery, music to both of your ears, only adding to the building pleasure. 

And just when you start to think that it can't possibly get any better, he hits a spot deep inside you that has your body bowing, a strangled cry tearing from your throat. You clamp down around him and he curses, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering for just a moment.

"There it is," he grunts, and you can hear the smug smirk in his voice, the absolute bastard. "Right there, huh? That the spot?"

He doesn't wait for you to answer, pulling almost all the way out, and then driving back into you, hitting the same spot dead-on. And you keen and wail, your body thrashing wildly as a new wave of ecstasy washes over you.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, clawing at his back, digging your fingers into his shoulders.

"Yeah, I got ya," he husks, leaning down to suck and bite at the skin just below your jaw. He keeps pounding into that spot, making sure to hit it every damn time, and your vision starts to blur again, black dots dancing at the edge of your eyes.

You don't even realize you're about to come until it's crashing into you, a sudden and violent wave that threatens to tear you apart. And Joel can tell, from the way you start to shake, the way your walls are clamping down around him, the way your legs lock around his waist, and the way you're desperately gasping for air, that you're right there.

"There you go, sweetheart," he coos. "You're so fucking close aren't ya? I can feel it. You gonna come on my cock? Huh?Gonna let me feel that tight little pussy coming all over me?"

"Oh god, Joel," you sob, tears welling in your eyes, his words alone pushing you even closer.

"I know, honey. I know. Just let go, baby. C'mon, that's it. You can do it."

And then he's snaking a hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing rough, tight circles against the swollen bud, and the pleasure reaches its peak, the coil in your belly snapping, sending you careening off the edge. Stars burst behind your eyelids as the most intense, powerful orgasm of your life tears right through you. Every muscle in your body tenses and contracts, the rush of blood roaring in your ears as white-hot bliss erupts throughout every fiber of your being, your walls pulsing wildly, gushing slick around his cock.

He's there with you every step of the way, murmuring praise in your ear, fucking into you and grinding his cock against your cervix, prolonging your orgasm, extending it for what feels like an eternity. And then you're boneless, spent, and helplessly limp, barely aware of the way he's still rutting against you.

"So good, baby," he rasps, his voice sounding wrecked and broken. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

And then you feel him start to swell and his thrusts become erratic and you know he's right there with you, teetering on the edge, ready to fall. A few more pumps of his hips, his pace frantic and uncoordinated before he pushes himself back up on his knees and pulls out of you with a hiss. He jerks himself for half a second before spilling all over your belly and your cunt, hot, thick ropes of cum splashing against your skin. He grunts and hisses through clenched teeth, a few last drops spilling out onto your pussy, his cock throbbing against you.

You feel completely and utterly destroyed, every part of your body buzzing and tingling, still trembling. And your head feels stuffy and foggy, a hazy, peaceful kind of bliss settling deep in your bones.

Joel slumps down next to you, breathing heavy, a low, rumbling groan escaping his lips. You glance over at him, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He's a sweaty, disheveled mess, and the sight makes your heart ache and swell, a rush of warmth flooding through your body.

He notices you looking at him and turns his head to meet your gaze, his own satisfied smile matching yours. You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of your throat and spilling past your lips in a breathy giggle. Joel's smile spreads even wider, his eyes sparkling.

"What's so funny?" he asks, propping himself up on his elbow and rolling onto his side.

"Nothing, I just," you giggle again, and it's almost a hysterical kind of laugh, a nervous kind of relief flooding through your body. "That was…"

Joel chuckles, brushing a lock of hair out of your face, his fingers trailing across your forehead.

"Yeah, it was," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"And I…I just really like you, Joel. A lot. I don't know. I guess I'm just happy."

His face softens and he stares at you for a moment, his expression so fond and tender that you forget how to breathe for a moment. He leans down and kisses you, his lips gentle and warm before he pulls away. 

"I guess I like you too," he murmurs, his signature smirk playing on his lips. "I dunno about a lot, but-"

"Shut up, you ass" you giggle, slapping his shoulder. "I'm trying to have a moment."

He hums delightedly and presses another kiss to your forehead."M'kay, you have your moment. I'm gonna clean you up, alright?"

You pout but let him go, letting the afterglow of your climax envelop you until he returns a moment later with a warm wet cloth. His touch is tender, gently cleaning between your legs and then wiping the cum from your belly. You're still shaking, every touch sending little aftershocks through your body.

"So," he starts, tossing the cloth into the corner of the room before looking at you expectantly. "Best lay of your life?"

You laugh, your heart bursting at the seams, your cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so hard. 

"Not even close."

Thank you for reading!! I apologize in advance for any errors I do not enjoy editing!!

tagging those who asked and who might be interested:

@shewantstoknow @pedritoferg @khindahra @wand-erer5 @akah565 @thereaperisabitch @first-edition @lilyevanstan1325 @lovelyjess69 @elliesswearjar @iloveenya @harriedandharassed @c2ss1e @paleidiot @starry-eyes-love @lola8888673 @saguchiya @milla-frenchy @cayleejz @missyorkswhore @farrowroyale @abbyandersonsragdoll @glimmering-darling-dolly @katiexpunk @worhols @thecasualnope @ahintofkiwistrawberry @lulawantmula @sawymredfox @prismaticpizza @serenadingtigers @venturawriter @kyloispunk @millercontracting @jjhayhay20 @bitchesuntitled @bean-is-reading @lvl-2005 @kamcrazy123 @covetyou @survivingandenduring @pinkiec6-rubi @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @pedroshotwifey @perfectlyfreeanalyst @plsdontmisfire @lokigonnakmsforbucky @kr-ickl3

I will not tag ageless/faceless (no pfp) blogs. If you asked to be tagged and weren't you either did not have an age/pfp or Tumblr wouldn't let me :(

[sagittariusmarz]

What’s ur energy like/people’s perception of you ((pac))

Pile 1

You have strong feminine energy or you’re a feminine with strong masculine energy, you have strong facial features and expressions. You may physically react before verbally react like your expressions show how you feel first and you may not have control over it or you don’t notice it, I see that you have a strong physique/you look strong or people can tell you work out. You have an intimidating presence like people can feel your energy without you saying anything, you’re an optimist and don’t like to take things seriously. You may use humor as a tool to help you stay calm or to keep from overreacting, you may use your phone a lot or you use it more at night. I see that you may attract animals and children, people may trust you a lot with their pets or young children. You have fun and nurturing energy, you’re creative and you’re good at persevering. You like to stand up for yourself and others, you make people respect you. You have a quick intuition and it’s hard for people to keep things from you because you always find out even if you aren’t trying to, you’re a romantic and believe in love. People are often attracted to your physical appearance, you may be tall and have cat like features or eyes/nice teeth or smile/medium/big lips. Red looks good on you especially on your face or nails, you have grounding and trustworthy energy. Your energy comes off as more mature than your age, you may have an old soul. You may have glasses or you need glasses but don’t like to wear them so you squint often, people can tell by your energy that you’re selective with who you let in your energy. Your energy is bright and unique so it attracts a lot of people, you may come off as protective/defensive and confident. You naturally stand out wherever you are. Signs- Sagittarius/leo. Pisces in 11th house, Aries in 5th house. Initials- S, T, Q, X

Pile 2

Your energy is fair/honest, you like to treat people equally without judgement. Your energy may come across unhinged and childlike so people may think you don’t know a lot, you like to laugh/make others laugh and have fun. You’re young at heart and you can connect with almost anyone, you may like to make funny faces. You have strong masculine energy/unbalanced feminine energy, you’re someone who stays true to themselves and encourages others to do the same. You’re someone who’s authentic and doesn’t care about other people’s perceptions or opinions, your energy is carefree. You may have a cat/cats or cats really like you, you may have an overactive mind or you always are thinking about the next thing without taking a break. You have a lot of energy/stamina and sometimes you may struggle with your sleep schedule, I see that you need to find a better outlet for all of your energy. You may get bored easily/you’re a good multitasker, your energy feels friendly and inviting so you may get a lot of people that just randomly feels comfortable talking to you even though you don’t know them too well. People feel like you’re a good time and want to spend time with you often, your energy comes across a cool/popular or unbothered. Signs- Aries/taurus. Capricorn in 8th house, Leo in 11th house. Initials- S, O, M, E, G, J, V

Pile 3

Your energy is strong and mysterious, people may think you have dark energy because of how intimidating your aura is. Your aura may be a dark color, I see that dark colors look good on you/you may feel dark colors are best for you. I see that your features and energy intimidate others which can cause conflict or jealousy, your energy is dominant and may make others uncomfortable. I see that your features are alluring and draws a lot of people in, your energy is charming and fun. You may like scary movies/shows/books, your energy may feel sexual or flirtatious because you’re naturally charming. I see that you don’t take a lot of things seriously and you like to mess with people especially when they’re mad at you, you may know a lot of people and have lots of connections. Your energy feels wild and uncontrollable/unpredictable, people know they can’t tame you so you may often have to fight for dominance. People think you’re dramatic and you crave to be seen but you just attract a lot of attention, you have regal energy and it makes people stare. You may have a big sweet tooth specifically for cake/pastries/candy and gum, even though you seem intimidating at first your energy is very sweet and playful/there’s layers to your energy. Depending on the person your energy feels different to a lot of people, people may underestimate you because of your looks and you surprise them with how much you know. You’re good at manipulating others especially the ones that underestimate you, you’re good at entertaining people and making them laugh. Your energy feels new and fresh, you’re always doing something new. You may be multitalented, you have strong eye contact or piercing eyes. You look good in colored contacts or you look better without your glasses, sometimes you’re good at masking your energy so that you don’t get too much attention but other times it can’t be helped. Purple looks good on you/you may have a purple aura, your energy is addicting and makes some people obsessive. People have a hard time lying to you or keeping things from you. Signs- Capricorn/taurus. Gemini in 5th house/sagittarius in 11th house. Initial- C, U, Z

Personal readings always available

Divider by @thecutestgrotto PNGs by @buriedteen

[yourstardarling]

Libra: Through The Houses

Birth of Venus, by Sandro Botticelli (1480s)

Libra season this year, has made me realize how unbalanced and tethered Libras can be. Particularly focusing on the weather, it feels like Autumn is in this constant battle between whether it wants to be hot or cold. There isn’t a sense of choosing a side and constant inconsistency. This reminded me of the nature of Libra since it begins the fall season. The nature of not wanting to choose and trying to do both things at once. It fits the complex personality this sign embodies. Constantly tethering between decisions and trying to decide upon a single solution, while trying to maintain a sense of equilibrium. In relation to the weather, they are constantly balancing between being hot(confident, warm and loving) and cold(distant, detached and not caring). Essentially, Libras want the best of both worlds that’s all it is. They want to do both have both options, but life unfortunately pushes them to make a single decision.

Libra in our charts symbolize the area in our lives where we are constantly striving for some sort of temporary balance or stability. This often does not last long, remaining a constant balancing act between two extremes. We can either be doing really good and positive in this area of our lives, or feel disconnected and unable to form attachments. With Venusian ruling here, Libra symbolizes the compromises we make in our relationships with other people. This sign let’s go of the focus on the self (Aries) to be willing to focus on others. That is why the Sun is in fall in Libra it cannot focus on the core ego-based needs because it is worried about the needs of others. This could look like Libras worrying about the impact taking action will have on their relationships, instead of just doing it.

So overall, Libra depicts the compromises you have to make in order to maintain equilibrium. The scales symbolize fairness, but it can also lead to a bit of indecision, as they’re always weighing both options. This need for balance isn’t just about fairness. It’s about creating environments that feel beautiful and harmonious. Libra doesn’t thrive in chaotic settings; they crave a sense of peace and unity, even if they have to play the role of mediator to achieve it. If you want to find out how to create harmony within your chart looking at the house Libra sits in is a good place to start. They lowkey represent the caring for others needs (Virgo) and focusing on self preservation( Scorpio).

Libra 1st house: These individuals are the walking scales embodying harmony and the balance nature of their sign. Their identity is strongly influenced by their relationships, often making them empathetic towards the needs of those around them. So lot of compromises are made between their needs and what other people need. Very willing to make sacrifices for the ones they love, sometimes prioritizing others instead of their own. The selfless and caring sides of these individuals often goes unnoticed. While they work hard to maintain harmony, others might misinterpret their efforts as being superficial or insecure. This is largely due to the Libra persons focus on aesthetic and beauty. They can become a magnet for gossip and conflict with the Aries opposite influence. People may have conflicting point of views about who they are. On one hand, their charm and grace makes them approachable and well liked. On the other, their push for balance is misunderstood as them being indecisive and lacking authority. Nevertheless, they still manage to thrive socially, with their natural ability to navigate social situations with poise. People often gravitate towards them for their likeable presence. There is a sense of class and elegance with Libra risings, they just exude a sense of timelessness and grace. Romantically, they find themselves in complex relationships. They may experience numerous talking stages and fleeting romantic connections. These encounters are rather quick and come with their own set of challenges. Libra Risings often try to get past these challenges by trying to find solutions with their partner. The Saturnian influence on Libra often causes their relationships to be karmic lessons that they must learn to move past. Once lessons learned, they move forward to new connections, searching for someone who matches there ideals of love and partnership. The shadow side of this placement lies in over-compromise. They must learn to assert their own needs and recognize that creating harmony doesn’t always mean sacrificing their identity. By embracing both the caring and assertive aspects of their nature, Libra Rising individuals can achieve the balance they so deeply seek.

Libra 2nd house: These individuals often face a balancing act when it comes to their finances. Compromise seems to follow them as they navigate between generosity and self-preservation. These are highly giving individuals who believe that monetary success is best shared, often using their resources to uplift and support others. They want everyone to be able to partake and share in the success. There is great value in their partnerships with other people. For these individuals, the relationships they cultivate often bring opportunities for wealth or financial growth. This makes them incredibly discerning about who they surround themselves with. Their connections are not just about emotional fulfillment. Instead, they see social wealth as a form of currency, one that enriches their lives and opens doors to abundance. These individuals are drawn to the finer things in life. There is an innate craving for beauty and quality. They often choose simplistic luxury that has a timeless essence. They deeply value elegance and refinement, but this can sometimes lead to overindulgence. A lesson for them lies in understanding that true value doesn’t always lie in material possessions, and that their worth isn’t tied to what they own. Financial ups and downs can characterize their journey. With their tendency to give generously or invest in quality over quantity, their financial situation may tether between the scales. They must learn to cultivate discipline in their spending habits, by creating boundaries with their relationships and ensuring they focus on what truly matters rather than fleeting desires. Overall, their financial life reflects their inner sense of balance. When they are aligned and intentional, their resources flow smoothly. By focusing on building a foundation of sustainable wealth they can achieve a sense of harmony.

Libra 3rd house: Mental stimulation is focused on creating peace and harmony. Their headspace remains a world focused on beauty, refinement and enjoying the pleasures of life.Communication is seen as bridge towards peace for them. They enjoy making conversation and letting their voices be heard. This makes them very charming people to be communicate with. Sometimes it might come across as them being flirtatious when they are just being kind. People they get romantically involved with need to be good conversationalist and know how to stimulate their minds. Words of affirmation is the key to these individuals hearts, they live for people telling them how lovely they are. Libra here can indicate having a harmonious relationship with your siblings if Venus is not afflicted. May have sisters or feminine siblings. When they were younger these individuals may have been seen as little diplomats who tried to find compromise between their peers at school, family members and even their parents. A big part of their mental focus is maintaining some sort of order.

Libra 4th house: These individuals are deeply focused on the structure and harmony of their home life. While they might receive princess treatment from family members, it doesn’t mean their experience is without challenges. Beneath the surface, they face complex family challenges that require them to find ways to seek fairness and harmony. Growing up, they may have faced situations where their needs or boundaries weren’t fully respected. Often lead to them to make unfair decisions that devalued their self autonomy. This origin shapes their approach to relationships, instilling in them a deep value for commitment and balance. Romantically, they are serious and traditional. They view relationships through the lens of long-term commitment, often prioritizing marriage and deep emotional bonds. They seek a partner who shares their appreciation for loyalty and stability, someone who values love as much as they do. They find comfort in the simple pleasures of life. These are people who know how to romanticize the little things, turning everyday moments into something meaningful. Their home is often a reflection of this, as they seek to make it a true work of art. You might find their living space adorned with paintings, vintage furniture, and carefully chosen designs that exude creativity. They remind me of Charlotte from SATC. Their presence is both nurturing and aesthetically uplifting. They have a natural talent for creating environments that feel comforting and beautiful, making others feel cared for. These individuals ensure that the people they love not only look good but also experience the finer things in life.

Libra 5th house: Libra here creates for an individual who has a natural flair for charm and connection. Easily, they might become the life of the party, drawing others in with their magnetic and sociable nature. Their ability to form connections feels effortless, as people are quickly captivated by their grace, wit, and charisma. However, their charm often operates on a surface level. While they excel at making people feel seen and appreciated, their interactions can sometimes lack depth, especially when it comes to casual or fleeting relationships. This tendency can lead to misunderstandings, with others mistaking their friendly and flirtatious nature for something more intentional. A flirtatious energy seems to follow them, even when unintended. They have an air of playfulness in their romantic and social interactions, often enjoying the thrill of connection more than the commitment it might require. Early in life, they may not take romantic relationships too seriously, preferring to explore and experience the joys of love and flirtation without diving into deeper emotional waters.They can also be prone to gossip. Their love for socializing and interacting with others may occasionally lead to them engaging in or being the center of rumors. This stems from their desire to stay connected and in the loop, but it’s something they must navigate carefully to maintain harmonious relationships.Ultimately, they thrive on the joy and thrill of creativity, romance, and fun. The 5th house represents self-expression, and with Libra here, these individuals bring beauty, balance, and charm to everything they do. Their artistic nature make them stand out, whether at the club, networking events, or in their creative pursuits.

Libra 6th house: You need to fall in love with your routines. Libra in the sixth house is interesting because it brings Venusian qualities to an area of life that’s typically more about the mundane day to day routines, health, and work. Libra here needs some kind of enjoyment or beauty in their daily life in order to feel motivated. Without that, they’re likely to feel sluggish or uninspired. They crave a little pleasure in everything they do, which, if unchecked, could lead to overindulgence or imbalance in their health habits. For their physical health to be maintained, they need to find equilibrium between pleasure and practicality. They’re not likely to go overboard with extreme diets or rigorous exercise. Healthy food is fine, as long as it has flavor and tastes good. In their work environments, they tend to get along with most of their colleagues with their social charm. They seek for their environments to be a place of peace and beauty. Tend to work best in environments that are visually pleasing or involve collaboration. They may go out of their way to keep harmony in their workplace, even if it means compromising their own needs to avoid conflict. Might spend a lot of time weighing options or avoiding confrontation at work, wanting to keep the peace at all costs. This can also make it hard for them to enforce boundaries or say no, especially if they feel obligated to please and help others. This placement can also lead to perfectionism in how things look or are organized in their daily routine. They might feel uncomfortable with disorder and prefer to create an aesthetic, well-balanced space.

Libra 7th house: Libra in the 7th house shines in the realm of relationships, where partnership and harmony take center stage. These individuals are natural peacemakers who thrive in environments that require balance and diplomacy. Whether in romantic, platonic, or business relationships, they have an innate charm that draws others to them. Romantic connections often come easily to those with this placement, as their warm and approachable demeanor makes them highly attractive. They seek relationships that are not just loving but also balanced, valuing equality and mutual respect above all. They have a deep desire to share their life with someone who complements their strengths and supports their growth. These unions can feel like a mirror, reflecting back their strengths and areas for personal development.However, their focus on partnerships can sometimes lead to challenges in maintaining their individuality. Libra in the 7th house must learn to balance their need for connection with a strong sense of self. They are naturally inclined to prioritize their partner’s needs, but they must also recognize their own worth and avoid becoming overly dependent or self-sacrificing in relationships. When they find this balance, their unions become a space of mutual empowerment. Libra here teaches the importance of collaboration and compromise. These individuals are tasked with mastering the art of giving and receiving in relationships, allowing them to grow through love and connection. Their ability to foster harmony while maintaining their individuality, creates partnerships that are fulfilling. Through these experiences, they discover the beauty of a true union built on balance and reciprocity.

Libra 8th house: In the house of death, the relationships of these individuals are put to the extremes. Often dealing with the shadow sides of love and partnership, they seek to find some senses of balance within that. They’re drawn to deep, transformative connections, and there’s an attraction to the hidden, mysterious, and even taboo aspects of life. It’s like they’re fascinated by what lies beneath the surface of relationships, wanting to uncover truths and explore the deeper bonds that aren’t just surface-level. With Venus here, there’s also a seductive charm in how they approach intimacy and shared resources. They can be very charismatic in drawing people in, but at the same time, they might struggle with boundaries in these intense connections. It can sometimes feel like they’re losing themselves in other people. This placement can also indicate an interest in financial partnerships or inheritances, based on shared resources, Libra here might feel a pull towards situations where resources are merged with others, but they’ll want fairness and balance, potentially feeling uneasy if things seem unequal or too controlling. They might even seek to find beauty in the darker, transformative experiences of life. These people are able to make things that are extreme and destructive into something beautiful. They turn darkness, into art, finding beauty in the chaos. Transformative phases in their lives is marked by seeking ways to bring back harmony in the world around them. Oftentimes, change brings an inevitable end to connections they have formed.

Libra 9th house: Love & Beauty might be something theese individuals look up as a higher power. A deep relationship with the divine may be formed through art, fashion and visual aesthetic. Libra here makes people gravitate toward beauty and balance in their worldview. They seek harmony in beliefs, often embracing diverse perspectives and aiming for a philosophy that unites rather than divides. They might be drawn to learning about cultures and belief systems that celebrate peace, art, and justice. Often taking a more diplomatic stance on global issues. These people could also be super charismatic in educational or travel settings. They have a natural charm that allows them to connect with people from all walks of life, making them great at bridging cultural gaps. They often find beauty in learning and might see philosophy as a lovely thing to learn about. The Venusian influence, can make them seek pleasurable experiences in their travels and studies, gravitating towards places or subjects that feel aesthetically pleasing. However, sometimes they can struggle with indecision when it comes to forming their own beliefs. They may find themselves trying to balance conflicting ideas, which can make them feel a bit lost or unfocused in their philosophical pursuits. Relationships to them are very important, often placed on a higher pedestal for them. It’s like they see love, beauty, and partnership as concepts that transcend the mundane and become something sacred. For them, relationships aren’t just connection, they’re profound experiences that add depth and meaning to their understanding of life. They learn a lot in their partnerships about the bigger world around them.They might find love in foreign lands. .Meeting people from diverse backgrounds and travel can feel especially thrilling and transformative for them. It’s as though they find beauty in the unfamiliar, and their charm really blossoms when they step outside their comfort zone. It’s like they embody the archetype of a cultural ambassador of love and beauty.

Libra 10th house: Libra in the house of legacy, brings a diplomatic charm towards their public career and image. They’re very focused on maintaining a harmonious and fair reputation. Often striving to be seen as balanced, graceful, and composed in their professional life. People with this placement are likely to be natural mediators or peacemakers in the workplace. They may have a talent for smoothing over conflicts or creating a cooperative environment. Instinctively they want things to run smoothly and peacefully. In their career, they might gravitate toward roles where they can bring people together, like in law, diplomacy, design, or any field that involves aesthetics and relationships. Their public image is often that of someone who values justice, beauty, and fairness. It makes them likely to be well-liked and respected in their field. However, they might sometimes struggle with making decisive moves, especially if they fear that their choices might disrupt the balance or alienate people. They really do think about who their decisions may affect, but often boils down to what is the most fare path to take. Libra here can also lead to a strong desire to be admired for their sense of style and grace. They might put a lot of effort into presenting themselves beautifully or maintaining a refined image. Simplicity within their image is their best friend, making sure that they look very simple, but also elegant and classy. A focus on the timelessness of their appearance. Their career success often relies on how well they can navigate relationships with grace and tact.

Libra 11th house: Libra in the eleventh house brings that Venusian charm into friendships, social circles, and their ideals. People with this placement often have a real talent for making connections and harmonizing group dynamics. They can bring people together effortlessly, often acting as the glue in their friend groups because they’re naturally attuned to everyone’s needs and know how to create an inclusive, friendly vibe.In terms of friendships, they tend to seek relationships that feel balanced and fair, often avoiding groups where there’s too much conflict or imbalance. They may also be drawn to friendships that are supportive of their values around beauty, justice, and harmony. There’s often a refined quality to the way they choose friends, like they’re curating a circle that reflects their ideal of elegance & grace. They want their friendships to have a sense of mutual admiration and respect. Libra in the eleventh can also mean that they’re visionaries in terms of their hopes and dreams. They are strong advocates for social justice, making them highly aware of the social issues of the world around them. It can even lead to joining causes that fight for social change. The downside to this placement is that sometimes they might get caught up in wanting everyone to like them, which can make it hard for them to stand firm on their opinions if they feel it might disrupt the group harmony.

Libra 12th house: In the house of the subconscious, romance and beauty become something tied to the individuals soul. Libra in the 12th house creates a deeply private and introspective romantic nature. These individuals view love and relationships as sacred, preferring to keep their connections away from public scrutiny. It’s not unusual for them to reveal their romantic life only when they feel confident it aligns with their inner peace and harmony. Despite their desire for privacy, they possess a natural magnetism that draws people to them effortlessly. This charm stems from their intuitive understanding of people, allowing them to see beyond the exterior and connect to others on soulful level. However, this placement can also bring feelings of loneliness, even in committed relationships. These individuals must learn to harmonize their internal world with their external relationships. The key lies in understanding that their need for seclusion isn’t a flaw but a strength that can deepen their connections. By openly communicating their boundaries and emotional needs, they can create relationships that honor both their private nature and their longing for companionship. Learning to integrate their need for solitude with their relationships is key to finding balance and fulfillment.

- yourStardarling

[mocchiixxx]

Words in Ruin Series # | 07 : Lee Jihoon (Woozi) 🍚

Genre: Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Breakdown, Reconciliation, Slow Realization

Warnings: Emotional yelling, miscommunication, insecurities, guilt, self-blame, heavy crying

Summary: To the world, Woozi is the quiet genius; the producer, the perfectionist, the heart of SEVENTEEN’s sound. But that brilliance comes at a cost. The sleepless nights, the endless revisions, the self-inflicted pressure to outdo himself, again and again, bleeds into every part of his life, even the part where he’s supposed to feel safe: with you. One night, when words snap and tears fall, he realizes music isn’t the only thing that needs harmony. And this time, he might have composed the most painful silence of all.

It was nearing 2:00 a.m. when you heard it, the unmistakable slam of a door echoing through the thin walls of the studio.

That wasn’t like him.

Lee Jihoon didn’t slam things. He didn’t raise his voice. He internalized. Drowned himself in arrangements and demo revisions until even time gave up trying to keep track of him. But tonight, something was unraveling.

You stood from the tiny studio couch you’d been quietly curled up on for the past two hours, watching him mix, waiting for a moment to speak, hoping he’d pause long enough to breathe. You carried over the still-warm cup of coffee you'd made for him earlier and cautiously opened the door.

“Jihoon?” you called gently.

He didn’t answer. He was hunched in front of the monitor, fingers clenched into fists, knuckles white.

“Ji…?” you stepped in slowly.

He finally spoke, but not to you— more to the air, to himself. “Why can’t I get this right?”

You placed the cup on the table beside him. “You’ve been working non-stop. Maybe you just need to step away for a bit to clear your head.”

“I can’t,” he said sharply. Then, quieter: “I don’t have time to rest.”

You blinked. “Jihoon, you haven’t eaten since lunch. You’ve barely spoken to me in days. You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

He finally turned to face you, and the look in his eyes caught you off guard.

Frustration, yes, but also exhaustion… and something worse: fear.

“Don’t start this again,” he muttered. “Not tonight.”

Your chest tightened. “Start what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely between you. “The lectures. The concern. Like I’m a child who doesn’t know his limits.”

Your lips parted in disbelief. “I’m not lecturing you. I’m loving you.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” he snapped.

Silence...

Pain bloomed in your chest, sharp and fast.

Jihoon realized too late what he’d said. His mouth opened slightly, but no apology came out. Just silence.

You took a step back, eyes stinging. “You didn’t ask me to… But I did. I chose to stay. To wait. To be here. Because I care. And you’re throwing that back in my face?”

His jaw clenched. “You don’t understand. You’ve never had millions of people waiting for your next track. You don’t know what it’s like to feel like everything you produce is never good enough.”

“I don’t have to be a producer to know when someone is breaking,” you whispered. “You’re not a machine, Jihoon. You’re human. You can’t keep living like this, treating sleep like a privilege and love like a distraction.”

He stood now, face stormy. “So what? are you giving me an ultimatum now? You or the music?”

You shook your head slowly, tears finally slipping free. “No. I would never make you choose between me and the thing you love most. I just… I just wish I was somewhere on the list.”

His expression faltered.

You turned to leave. “I’ll go. Since being here is just getting in your way.”

He didn’t stop you.

Not immediately.

Because Jihoon didn’t know how to fix things that weren’t broken chords or off-beat rhythms. He could mend audio clips and rearrange harmonies, but heartbreak? Human emotion? You?

That scared him more than any production deadline ever could.

3:47 a.m.

The studio was quiet now.

The track sat on the screen, unfinished, unbalanced, and hollow.

Just like him.

The untouched cup of coffee still sat by the console. The one you made with tired hands and a hopeful heart.

He reached for it and finally felt the cold.

His fingers curled around the mug, and he swore he could still feel the warmth of you in it. That’s when the guilt hit him, fast, consuming, brutal.

He left the studio without saving the track.

He didn’t care anymore.

Back at the apartment, he pushed open the door gently, afraid of what he might find. Or worse— what he wouldn’t.

But you were there.

Curled up on the edge of the bed, hugging a pillow, your back to him. Small, quiet, still.

“Y/N…” he said, voice hoarse from more than just overuse.

You didn’t answer.

He moved closer, sitting carefully at the foot of the bed.

“I was wrong,” he whispered. “So, so wrong.”

Still, you said nothing. And somehow, that was worse than yelling.

“I took everything out on you when all you did was love me,” he continued, voice shaking. “I let the pressure get so loud that I stopped hearing the most important person in the room.”

You shifted slightly, but didn’t look at him.

“I told you I didn’t ask for your help,” he said softly. “But that wasn’t true. I needed it. I just didn’t know how to say it. I thought… if I let you see how messy I really am, you'd think less of me.”

Finally, your voice came... fragile and raw.

“Do you really think love only survives perfection?”

His head dropped.

“No,” he admitted. “But maybe… I thought I had to deserve you first. Like if I failed, if I cracked even a little… you’d see I wasn’t worth staying for.”

You turned to face him now, eyes swollen and cheeks damp. “I’ve already seen you crack, Jihoon. I stayed. Not because you’re perfect. But because you’re you.”

He closed his eyes tightly. “I said such awful things tonight.”

“You did,” you said honestly. “And they hurt.”

A beat of silence.

“But… I also saw the man behind those words. The one drowning in expectations. The one who forgot that love isn’t supposed to be another performance.”

He reached for your hand, slowly and really carefully, like he was asking permission.

“I want to be better,” he said. “Not just for the fans. Not just for the group. For us. For you.”

You let him take your hand.

“I don’t need perfect tracks,” you said. “I need my Jihoon to come home. Even if he's tired. Even if he’s broken. Just… come home.”

Tears finally slipped from his eyes then.

Real, vulnerable tears.

He pulled you into him, burying his face in your neck like a child seeking shelter. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away. I was just… so lost.”

You stroked his back gently, feeling his shoulders tremble. “I know. But next time, don’t wait until we’re both falling apart.”

He pulled back, cupping your cheek. “Next time, I won’t. Next time, I’ll write us a better ending.”

You leaned into his touch, eyes glassy but steady.

“Or maybe,” you whispered, “we’ll compose one together.”

He smiled through the tears.

For the first time in weeks… he felt like breathing again.

Taglist: @babycaratdeul @viacb97 @christinewithluv

[wolvietxt]

𝓬harade.

pairing : bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings : jealousy, friends to lovers, fake dating, fluff, kiss, light angst, mentions of bucky’s past (like once), possessiveness  summary : you ask bucky to come with you to a charity gala, just to get tony off of your back. it’s beneficial to him too (he doesn’t have to be alone) but will the lines between fake and real blur? wc : 3.4k

bucky wasn’t sure when it started - this... thing between the two of you. he wasn’t even sure he could call it a thing, but something about you had a way of wrapping around him, unbalancing the careful walls he’d constructed to keep himself steady.

maybe it was the way you’d walked into the avengers tower three years ago, all bright smiles and teasing remarks, treating him like he was more than just a shadow from the past. or maybe it was how you never gave him space to brood for too long, always pulling him into group movie nights or challenging him to spar in the gym when you sensed he needed a distraction. whatever it was, bucky found himself gravitating toward you more than he liked to admit.

and now, sitting on one of the plush couches in the tower’s common area, staring at the team calendar where “charity gala” was written in bold, mocking letters, bucky was painfully aware of you.

“you’re glaring at that thing like it owes you money,” you teased, dropping onto the couch next to him. your knee brushed against his, and he hoped you didn’t notice the way his shoulders tensed at the contact.

he grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. “it’s so stupid.”

“you say that about every event,” you replied, leaning back like you belonged there, like you belonged anywhere. “maybe this one will be fun.”

bucky gave you a look. “fancy clothes, fake smiles, and rich people talking about how generous they are? yeah… sounds like a blast.”

you giggled, and he felt the sound settle somewhere deep in his chest. “maybe you just need the right date,” you said, half-joking. “you know, someone to make it bearable.”

he snorted. “and who’s that supposed to be? steve? sam?”

“i was thinking me, actually,” you said, a glimmer of mischief in your eyes.

bucky’s brain short-circuited for a moment. he stared at you, waiting for the punchline, but it never came.

“hear me out,” you said, panicking a little at the blank expression on his face. leaning forward now, your expression more serious. “i’ve been trying to dodge tony’s matchmaking attempts for weeks, and you hate going to these things alone. right? we can fake it - just for the night. pretend we’re together. that way, we both get through it in one piece.”

his first instinct was to say no. it wasn’t a good idea. it wasn’t smart to pretend, to blur the lines that were already starting to feel too thin. but then he thought about the alternative: going alone, standing on the edges of conversations, enduring pitying glances. and there you were, offering him an easy out. offering to stand beside him, even if it was just pretend.

“fine,” he said finally. “but don’t blame me if this blows up in your face.”

“oh please,” you said, grinning now. “if anything blows up, it’ll be because you can’t act to save your life.”

he rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

by the time the night of the gala rolled around, bucky was questioning every decision that had led him to this moment. he’d been uncomfortable in suits before, but this tux felt particularly suffocating. the mirror in his room didn’t help, either; no matter how many times he adjusted his tie, he still felt like a kid playing dress-up.

“hey,” your voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, and he turned to see you standing in the doorway.

for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. your dress was sleek and elegant, the color complementing your skin in a way that made you look effortlessly radiant. but it wasn’t just the dress - it was the way you carried yourself, the way your eyes lit up when you saw him.

“wow,” you said, stepping closer. “you clean up real nice.”

he scratched the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. “you don’t look so bad yourself.”

you smirked. “aww, don’t get too sappy on me now, barnes.”

he huffed a laugh, but the nervous energy in his chest didn’t dissipate. he hoped you couldn’t tell, but out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw your smile falter.

when you arrived at the gala, the room was already bustling with people. chandeliers cast a warm glow over the space, and the soft hum of classical music filled the air.

you slipped your arm through his, leaning in closer than necessary. “smile, bucky. we’re supposed to look like we’re having fun.”

he shot you a look but forced his lips into a semblance of his grin. “if you say so.”

you both made your way through the crowd, greeting familiar faces and dodging small talk whenever possible. bucky was doing fine - or at least pretending he was - until someone approached you.

“y/n,” the man said, his smile wide and just a little too polished. “been a while.”

bucky’s eyes narrowed as you returned the greeting, your tone polite but distant. the guy’s attention lingered on you, his gaze sweeping over you in a way that made bucky’s jaw tighten.

“so, who’s your friend?” the man asked, finally acknowledging bucky.

“this is bucky,” you said, squeezing his arm slightly. “he’s my date.”

the man raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

“it’s recent,” you said smoothly, glancing at bucky. “but it’s going well.”

bucky didn’t miss the way the guy’s smile faltered, and for the first time that night, he felt a flicker of satisfaction. he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you a fraction closer.

“yep,” he said, his tone even. “real well.”

after a few more pleasantries, the man finally walked away, leaving the two of you alone again.

“he didn’t seem happy to see me with someone,” bucky muttered.

“jealousy isn't a good look on him,” you said, but there was a hint of something in your voice - something he couldn’t quite place.

you glanced up at him, your expression softening. “thanks for stepping in back there. i know this whole thing isn’t exactly your scene.”

he shrugged, but his grip on your waist didn’t loosen. “it’s not so bad.”

as the night went on, the lines between what was real and what was pretend started to blur. the way you laughed at his dry remarks, the way your hand lingered on his arm - it all felt too natural, too easy.

and maybe that’s what scared him most of all.

bucky wasn’t sure when the room started to feel smaller, the air heavier. maybe it was the way you kept pulling him into conversations with people whose names he’d already forgotten, your laughter bright and unguarded as you charmed the crowd. or maybe it was the lingering gazes from a few too many admirers who clearly didn’t get the memo about you being taken - even if it was fake.

“you okay?” your voice broke through his thoughts, quiet and meant only for him. you’d leaned in close, your hand brushing his arm. the warmth of your touch grounded him, even as the irritation simmering beneath his skin refused to fade.

“fine,” he muttered, forcing a tight smile. “just... crowds.”

you frowned, your brow furrowing in concern. “we can leave anytime, you know. i don’t mind.”

“we’re not leaving just because i’m uncomfortable,” he replied, his tone sharper than he intended.

your eyes softened, the corner of your mouth twitching like you wanted to argue but decided against it. “okay. but let me know if you change your mind.”

he nodded, looking away before the guilt could settle too deeply. you didn’t deserve his moodiness, not when you were trying so damn hard to make this night bearable for him.

the tipping point came about an hour later.

you’d drifted away to grab drinks while bucky stayed near the edge of the room, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he scanned the crowd. he wasn’t keeping tabs on you - at least, that’s what he told himself - but when he spotted you talking to someone near the bar, his chest tightened.

the guy was tall, with an easy smile and a smug air about him that bucky instantly disliked. he leaned a little too close to you, his hand brushing your arm as he said something that made you laugh - a laugh bucky didn’t like hearing from someone else.

bucky’s jaw clenched. he didn’t have a claim to you, not really, but the sight still ignited something possessive and raw. before he realized what he was doing, he was striding across the room.

“everything okay here?” his voice came out rougher than he intended as he positioned himself at your side, his broad frame cutting off the guy’s view of you.

your eyes widened slightly in surprise, but you recovered quickly, flashing him a smile. “bucky. we were just talking about the gala.”

“right,” bucky said flatly, his gaze locked on the guy, who had the audacity to look amused.

“well,” the man said, taking a step back, “i’ll leave you two to it. nice meeting you, y/n.”

bucky didn’t relax until the guy disappeared into the crowd.

“jealous much?” you teased, though your tone was light.

“he was flirting with you,” bucky muttered, his arms crossing over his chest.

“so? it’s not like I’m actually your - ” you stopped yourself, your cheeks flushing slightly as the words hung between you.

“not my what?” he pressed, his voice quieter now, edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

you glanced away, fiddling with the stem of your glass. “nothing. forget it.”

but he couldn’t. the way your voice had faltered, the way your teasing confidence had momentarily slipped - it stuck with him, unsettling in a way he wasn’t ready to unpack.

later, the two of you found a quieter corner of the venue, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. you’d kicked off your heels, perching on the edge of a low bench with your legs tucked beneath you. bucky sat beside you, his tie loosened and his jacket draped over the back of his chair.

“sorry if i made things weird earlier,” he said after a long stretch of silence.

you glanced at him, your expression unreadable. “you didn’t.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i just... i don’t like seeing people treat you like that.”

“like what?”

“like you’re something they can just... have,” he said, his voice rough. “you deserve better than that.”

your gaze softened, a small smile tugging at your lips. “you’re sweet, you know that?”

“don’t tell anyone,” he muttered, earning a quiet laugh from you.

for a moment, the weight between you seemed to lift, replaced by something lighter. but then your laughter faded, and your smile turned wistful.

“sometimes i wonder if this is all i’m good for,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “being the girl people want to flirt with at parties. the fun one, the easygoing one. it’s like... no one really takes me seriously,” your voice getting quieter and quieter as you spoke.

bucky’s chest ached at your words, the vulnerability in your tone cutting deeper than he expected. without thinking, he reached for your hand, his calloused fingers brushing against yours.

“you’re more than that,” he said firmly. “you’re smart, and strong, and... you make people feel like they matter. you make me feel like i matter.”

your eyes met his, wide and searching, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“bucky...” you started, your voice unsteady.

“look, i know this was supposed to be fake,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “but i don’t think i’m pretending anymore.”

you stared at him, your expression unreadable, and for a terrifying second, he thought he’d ruined everything. but then you leaned closer, your free hand resting lightly on his cheek.

“finally,” you smiled, your voice barely above a whisper.

and then, before he could overthink it, you closed the distance, your lips brushing softly against his. it wasn’t a grand, sweeping kiss - just a gentle meeting of mouths, tentative and full of unspoken promises.

when you pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, but there was a smile in your eyes.

“guess we’re both bad at pretending,” you said softly.

“damn right,” he replied, his lips twitching into a small, lopsided grin.

and for the first time that night, the air between you felt light again, the tension replaced by something warm and new. 

the drive back to your place was quieter than usual. not tense, exactly - more like the air was holding its breath, waiting for one of you to shatter the silence. you fiddled with the strap of your clutch, glancing at bucky out of the corner of your eye. his hands were steady on the wheel, his jaw tight, but his gaze flicked toward you every few seconds like he was making sure you were still there.

you finally broke the silence. “you don’t have to walk me up, you know.”

“didn’t ask if i had to,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

you couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. even now, with your head spinning from the events of the evening, he had a way of grounding you, steady and unshakable. 

when he parked outside your building, he killed the engine and rounded the car before you even had a chance to unbuckle. ever the gentleman - or at least, his gruff version of one. 

the elevator ride up to your apartment was quiet, the tension from earlier creeping back in. when the doors slid open, you led the way, fumbling with your keys as you tried to ignore the warmth of his presence behind you. 

“you sure you’re okay?” he asked as you pushed the door open.

“yeah,” you said quickly, stepping inside. “just... long night.”

he hesitated in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space like he wasn’t quite ready to leave. you turned to face him, your lips parting to say something - what, you weren’t sure - but the words stuck in your throat. 

his eyes were darker in the soft light of your apartment, the usual cool blues tinged with something deeper, something unreadable. 

“you want me to go?” he asked, his voice quieter now, rougher around the edges. 

you shook your head before you could stop yourself. “no. i mean... stay. if you want.”

you weren’t sure when it happened - when the air between you shifted again, from awkward and unspoken to charged with something electric. maybe it was the way he hovered near the kitchen while you made tea, his shoulders tense like he didn’t know where to put himself. or maybe it was the quiet gratitude in his voice when you handed him a cup, your fingers brushing for half a second too long.

“you don’t have to stay,” you said again, softer this time. “i know this whole thing has been... a lot.”

he snorted, taking a sip of his tea. “you think i can’t handle a few idiots and bad wine?”

“i think you can handle anything,” you replied, the words slipping out before you could overthink them.

he looked at you then, really looked at you, and the weight of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. 

“you shouldn’t say stuff like that,” he said quietly, his tone unreadable.

“why not?”

“because,” he said, setting his cup down on the counter, “i’m trying real hard not to cross a line here.”

your heart skipped a beat. “what line?”

he let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his hair. “the one where i stop pretending this is fake and start wanting things i’m not supposed to want.”

“bucky...” his name came out softer than you intended, barely more than a whisper. 

he took a step closer, his boots heavy against the hardwood floor. “tell me to go,” he said, his voice low and rough. “because if you don’t, i’m not sure i can keep pretending.”

but you didn’t tell him to go. instead, you closed the space between you, your hand finding his like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“i don’t want to pretend either,” you admitted, your voice shaking with the weight of the words. 

he stared at you for a long moment, like he was searching for something in your expression. then, without another word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again.

the kiss was nothing like the one at the gala - nothing tentative or unsure about it. this was heat and certainty, his lips moving against yours like he’d been holding back for far too long. his hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. the world narrowed to just the two of you, the quiet hum of the city outside your window fading into nothingness. 

when he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“you sure about this?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

you nodded, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest. “are you?”

he let out a quiet laugh, the sound vibrating beneath your palms. “fuck yeah.”

you giggled, leaning up to press another kiss to his lips, softer this time, like you had all the time in the world. and for once, it felt like maybe you did.

later, you found yourselves tangled on the couch, your legs draped across his lap as his arm rested along the back of the cushions. the tea you’d made had gone cold on the coffee table, forgotten in the haze of everything that had happened.

“so,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence. “what happens now?”

he glanced at you, one brow quirking in that way that always made your heart do stupid little flips. “what do you mean?”

“i mean... this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “us.”

he shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. “guess we figure it out.”

“that’s it? no grand plan?”

“plans don’t usually work out for me,” he said simply, his tone light but laced with something heavier.

you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “then we’ll take it one step at a time.”

he squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “sounds good to me.”

the night stretched on, the city quieting outside as the minutes slipped by. you weren’t sure when you drifted off, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm wrapped around you like he was afraid you’d disappear. but when you woke up to the first rays of morning light filtering through the window, he was still there, his breathing slow and steady beneath you.

for the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly as it should.

ᰔ bucky barnes : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

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taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[mediumgayitalian]

"You can go first."

"Are you sure?"

Nico smiles. "Yes, Will. It'll be fine."

There is something unbelievably sweet about the hunch of Will's shoulders, the too-tight grip on the handle of the practice sword. He even stands differently, on the sand of the ampitheatre, unbalanced and unsure. He chews on his bottom lip and Nico wants nothing more than to drop everything and tug it from his teeth, soothe away the worry lines with the press of his tongue.

"I don't want to -- hurt you."

"You won't."

"I -- could!"

"I know you could." Nico steps closer, his own practice sword held loosely in his hand. "But you won't."

Will shifts his feet, looking at the shortened space between them and swallowing. A cloud passes over the sun and his eyes darken, fluttering blond eyelashes blinking away the sweat beading on his brow.

"Will," Nico says again. He closes the final foot of space between them, wrapping his free hand around Will's wrist. His pulse hammers through his palm. "You are going to swing, I am going to block. Nothing is going to happen. Right?"

Will breathes in, then breathes out. He repeats, closing his eyes. The buzz of his heartrate slows, ever so slightly.

"Trust me, Will."

"I trust you."

It is automatic and speedy. Nico's breath catches in his throat, and he pushes it back before Will's opening eyes can track it, can track his slack jaw and sharp breath.

"Good," he says hastily. He steps back, clearing his throat. "Okay, like we talked about. One foot forward. Drop your center of gravity, that's it. And then swing.”

Will follows his instructions quickly and determinedly, and, finally, when it comes time, swings — he grips the sword in two large hands, tendons rippling over the handle, and arcs the heavy thing cleanly over his head, broad shoulders sparkling in the midday sun.

Nico almost does get hit. He yelps and lunges away at the last second, heart racing.

“Oh my gods!” Will shouts, dropping his sword to the ground like it had burned him and rushing over. “Oh my gods, are you okay, did I slice you —”

Nico shifts slightly away, trying not to groan. For fuck’s sake.

“We’re done,” says Will, pressing light-hot, glowing palms on his shoulders, his back. Nico shivers. “You’re okay, thank the gods, but that was way too close —”

Nico is going to go back in time and kick his own ass. He needs to learn to focus, apparently; he’s not sure when exactly his brain liquified and melted out of his godsdamn ears but he has a feeling it was sometime around Sunshine Smile #1.

“This isn’t over,” Nico says weakly. His chest still flutters. All he can feel is the heat of Will’s skin, and he is overwhelmed by the gentle scent of lavender. “We’re gonna — uh, we’re gonna. Come back to this.” Will’s eyes are just — wow, this amphitheatre is hot. Nico clears his throat. That’s a lot of blue for one person to have, right? It’s not just him? “This isn’t over, Solace.”

“It sure as shit is,” says Will firmly. He kicks his practice sword in disgust, sliding his oh gods oh gods oh gods wide palm across Nico’s shoulders, hovering on his neck. “Lemme check you over, okay? Just for my own peace of mind.”

“Your lessons,” Nico tries.

Will waves a hand. “Bah. I appreciate the effort, Nico, but I’m hopeless. You’ll protect me, anyway.”

He is not hopeless. He is strong. He is strong and he is quick and he is observant, maybe more than anyone Nico has ever met. He is new in clumsy, sure, but that doesn’t mean he is not capable.

He opens his mouth to say so. But there is a look in Will’s eye. So he holds it, and smiles, and leans into his friend’s touch.

He will protect him.

Even if it’s from his own disbelief.

[river-of-wine]

Molly O'Shea is Irish on purpose. Everything about her was written on purpose for a reason. I rattle on a lot about Irish identity in Red Dead, but it seems to only be taken into account when discussing Sean when it comes to the Irish characters, and that is to be expected when Sean talks about it the most. However, it is a relevant part to every Irish character in the game. The O’Driscolls more as a unit, as we’ve only got two named members of that gang who aren’t just there to shoot you and be shot, but it’s still immensely important to recognise when discussing them and how they function, operate and exist. It’s important for Colm, and why he pronounces his name like that, his rejection of his Irish identity in favour of assimilating more with America, presenting himself as an American man, whilst taking advantage of the disenfranchised men from his same background and exploiting them just the same. It’s important for Kieran, even with his own disconnection from his culture and how out of place constantly seems to be. And it’s important for Molly. They’re all Irish on purpose. There was a choice made for this character, for every character who falls into any kind of vulnerable class in this country, in this time, in this society. There’s a reason why Dutch van der Linde - who willingly uses the exploitation and genocide of Native Americans to further his own goals, who runs a gang full of people indebted to him with no choice, no safe, realistic options other than to depend on said gang for their survival and safety - is written to be in a relationship with a young Irish woman. Molly’s age tends to be the aspect of their imbalanced relationship most frequently examined, to the point where little else about the unbalanced scales of their dynamic is looked at in equal measure here. Yeah, it’s very weird how Dutch is about young women, and it’s pointed out by Molly herself, that she - a woman who is referred to on multiple occasions as a girl rather than a woman, who is older than Mary-Beth but still clearly young herself - is too old for him. Molly being young is important and intentional, but so is Molly being Irish. She is in an abusive relationship with an older man, but she is also in an abusive relationship with an American man, and this is as inseparable from their dynamic as her age is. This is 1899 America, and this is Dutch van der Linde. This is a man we know - especially with Red Dead Redemption in mind - will exploit the vulnerable and whose violence towards women is no secret. Molly is in this gang for incredibly different reasons from everybody else around her, and even in comparison to the other Irish gang members she is out of place, but functionally, she needs the gang just the same, and Dutch has made this young, vulnerable woman completely reliant on him, only to cast her aside and refuse to give her such basic respect as her first name when she becomes more trouble than she’s worth. He does not treat Molly like a person. He does not value her feelings or her needs, he will only give her any attention when it is done in his terms, the results of his emotional abuse and neglect are nothing more than inconveniences to him. He doesn’t respect her. He doesn’t value her. The woman he gawks at, the younger, more desirable woman he attempts to make a move on when Molly loses her appeal, is a young American woman. Mary-Beth is younger, yes, but she’s also American. Molly can never be younger, and she can never be American. Molly is the only Irish woman in the gang, and it is her that Dutch is in a relationship with, and it is her who is treated by Dutch the way she is. Inherently, Molly’s status as an Irish immigrant is built into both her character and this relationship. That was done on purpose. Her poem is written the way it is on purpose. Molly is Irish on purpose. Do you see what I’m getting at here? Am I making sense?

[loveabunbun]

; CHOI SOOBIN 🐰 after hours

— cw; age gap (5ish yrs), professor soobin, student athlete reader, unbalanced power dynamics, clubbing, alcohol, public/bathroom sex, intoxicated sex, top male reader, sub bottom soobin, big dick sb and reader 🙌🏾, sex toys (butt plug), blowjob (sb), protected anal (a first??), belly bulging. 5k words.

— 🎶 now playing; kehlani - after hours, tomorrow x together - love language, destin conrad - kissing in public.

once you noticed him in the crowd of moving bodies, you simply couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

him being choi soobin, currently a young visiting professor at your institution, having just completed his phd in sociology and education, and one your lecturers in particular. soobin’s large frame isn’t out of place among all the others. in fact, you think the number has grown since he made his way to the centre. an attention stealer.

it’s the same as when you’re sat in his lecture: he’s captivating when he talks, enticing when he moves, and irresistible all around. he brought the youthful masculine charm the department severely lacked. and, of course, all the girl students desperately latched onto the eye-candy.

he was here. at a nightclub. and not just any random nightclub, a popular gay nightclub in the city centre. it’s a delightfully pleasant surprise. your margarita burns as you finish the glass. the warm daylight filtering in through the windows of your classroom has been replaced with the cool of the moon from the warehouse's skylight. and with the transition, it seems a new side has emerged. a new side to you, at the very least.

his glasses aren’t to be found, dark hair styled up and back to reveal his forehead and eyes more clearly. his knitted jumper and slacks switched out for a blue baby tee and jeans. you can’t quite make out what it says under the strobe lights.

being completely honest, your attention is on other parts of his body. the tequila trickles into your bloodstream and you can feel your heartbeat revived in different places. he doesn’t appear to have a dancing partner — you’ve had an eye on him for a few minutes and spotted him laughing with what appeared to be a friend as they goofed around.

your own friends are also on the dance floor. your legs are taking you closer soon enough. you sway with the beat of the song as you push through the bodies, eyes locked onto your target.

what your goal is you’re not even sure of. nothing could happen, anyway — you tell yourself— you’re his student. if only a few years younger. soobin exuded ‘model faculty’ with his polite smile and gentle giant demeanour. you're sure even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t risk his budding career for some dick.

although he would give something else up for it. why else would he be surrounding himself with drunk men, more likely than not looking for sexual respite. you weren’t that much younger than him, really. around five years, if you remembered his age correctly? but a minor blip in the universe's grand scheme.

now you’re right behind him.

he moves even better up close. swaying his body, throwing his hands up in the air with the beat of the song. carefree. it’s hard to keep your wonder at bay. you’re not thinking straight as you step closer, and let your hands ghost his waist. high enough not to get you immediately elbowed in the stomach.

soobin isn’t surprised when someone sneaks up behind him. although he came with zero expectations, the young man was starting to doubt his abilities. without turning to look at the new presence, he backs up into you. your heart leaps in your chest. he was waiting for someone. for this. you bite your lip in to hide how your cheeks pull up from the feeling of your professor's soft ass against your groin. fortunately, the lights were concentrated elsewhere for the time being.

the pop song playing is punctuated with strong percussion, gifting you with the tempo you needed to move in rhythm with him. fortunately, you know the lyrics to this one and find yourself getting lost in the sensations. you would’ve hated to see someone else behind him. even now, you can feel jealous eyes on you. it only makes you pull him closer, meeting him at various points of contact where which you can feel his body moves against you.

your scent washes over him and he welcomes the new smell of your cologne. he had yet to go nose-blind to the overwhelming scent of testosterone-filled body odour. maybe you would be his ticket out of the crowd.

whatever. soobin puts an end to his overthinking. or rather, the liquor flowing through his veins does. he just wants to feel good. just wanted to dance and let loose. it’s been too long.

his runs his hands down his front sensually before they meet yours on his hip. he drags your hands up on his body; they catch his shirt on the ascend and you momentarily feel the sweat on his damp skin. you can’t focus on it, because at the same time soobin rolls his hips onto you.

damn, he moved his body so well. you would’ve never thought the shy man had it in him. but you’re learning more about him by the second. you follow along with his smooth moves without any delay, determined to not mess up.

and fumble the bag you don't. looks of intrigue and desire join the envious. soobin’s friends throw him teasing grins and immature winks. he ignores them. all he can think about is how well-oiled your tall body feels against him, lithe yet sturdy. it stirs a primal need within him. something almost foreign to him at that point.

when the next song ends, soobin spins around with a happy grin on his face. he had to know who the suave cutie was behind him.

your grip loosens. before you can duck away, you’re making direct eye-contact. he's confused at first, but then his eyes widen in recognition, straightening up like he’d been struck by lightning.

shit.

“yn??”

“h-heyy, prof.”

soobin gawks at you, not knowing where to begin. his student was just grinding on him. he was just grinding on his student, and he liked it. he wanted more. his integrity! his reputation! his future!

the crowded dance floor suddenly feels stark empty, and the multi-coloured lights stop their orchestrated twirl, replaced by a stationary, bright spotlight. focused on the two of you.

he needed to get out of sight. grabbing your wrist, soobin drags you behind him until you’re stumbling into one of the bathrooms. he waits for an explanation, with a hard look on his face that tells you: you fucked up.

you stare at your shoes, shuffling in place. he was intimidating when he wanted to be. and you were, admittedly, in the wrong, “i’m sorry i came onto you."

“no, you’re not.”

your head shoots up. it was a poor apology, but you weren't expecting him to call you out on it. because, true, you weren’t really. you’re not sorry because you’ve got jacking off material for like the next couple of years. but more sorry because you’re not sure he would’ve reciprocated if he knew who you were. not very consensual of you...

“what on earth were you thinking?” it’s like he could read your mind.

“i wasn’t. that, i apologise for. can you blame me?” soobin sees how your gaze trails his body with your reply. it reveals what instead you had in mind — his broad shoulders sloping into a small waist and slim hips. shapely legs clad in jeans and ending in stylish sneakers.

wild and wonderful.

“seeing you here threw me off a little, prof.” you continue, meeting his eyes once again. his eyelids and cheeks shimmer iridescent in the light. you couldn’t tell before, mistaking the glow for sweat in the suffocating horde. but it was deliberately placed highlight. looks like your young instructor knew how to get dolled up.

soobin felt the same; it was weird seeing you in a place like this. even though you were probably a regular. or a more regular than he was, at least.

…maybe it wasn’t so weird. after all you were attending the city's university as a student. specifically, both a promising basketball athlete and a top scholar for your class. soon to graduate, matter of fact. he's sure you've scoped the lay of the land over your time.

what was new was seeing you in something other than athletic wear. you looked good, donning a loose button down and black jeans, surprisingly more handsome than you usually did in your everyday comfort. you were dressed to impress too, that’s for certain, with your inhibitions loosened after a few shots.

the older had also been drinking. stronger stuff than usual; his friends wanted to spoil him, to celebrate the rare occasion of him crawling out his hole home. soobin would be lying if he said he wasn’t having a fun time.

“i don’t usually come out. and quit it with the prof — while we’re here. anything else.”

hook.

you tilt your head as you look at him, feeling your normal dynamic shift with the new location. and the request for less formality. you toss the bait: “yeah... i didn’t take you for the party type. does hyung work for you? instead of mr wild and wonderful?”

soobin can’t hide when his eyes sparkle in interest at your fluent english. he knew you were smart, but the casual flex takes him aback. so does realising you know exactly what the wording insinuates. he never expected it would be you picking up the hint.

he loathes to complain. of course, he pays a little more attention to you when you’re sat at your desk — attending to his words, sending messages on your device, or talking to your friend. you're enticing without meaning to be. your frequent insightful contributions made up for where you lacked in other efforts. he’d only ever seen you in the daylight. the shadows that fall on your face now bring out another side to you.

line.

the race of his heart comes back, but not in fear this time. in excitement. the professor had never entertained the idea more than a passing thought but now he’s tempted. the plug sitting between his cheeks becomes noticeable again for the first time since he put it in before leaving his home. not for any particular reason…

he shouldn’t.

“been said i can get a little crazy outside the classroom.”

oh! that’s not— soobin’s thick lips purse in shock at his words. sober thoughts?

“yeah?” a smirk appears on your face as you take a bold step forward, throwing a look around the restroom in faux enquiry. your boyish playfulness has a way of keeping him in place. “doesn’t look like we’re in the classroom right now... from what you said, this sounds like my area of expertise.”

oh, you’re good. pulling him into your dangerous game like a siren into the depths. he doesn’t even know when your hearts started thumping against each other, his hand on your arm.

“then, maybe you could teach me the ropes. show me how it goes?” comes his breathy whisper, eyes narrowed in seduction.

and sinker.

you push him into the stall furthest form the entrance and lock the door behind you. his back hits the wall with a thump and he gasps, looking at you with surprised eyes when you press into his front deliberately, strong hands back on his hips.

soobin has much more to lose than you, and you respect that. you give him time to change his mind, to slip out from underneath you and put the earlier events under lock and key. he doesn’t. a beat passes and then another. the muffled music matches the atmosphere. muted, on the verge of breaking the silence.

the door opens and upbeat chords slice through the air like a whip. a few voices dance just over the top, boisterous and joyful on the way to release. soobin surges forward and captures your lips.

you groan instantly, desire roaring inside you once again at his initiating. his hands grasp at your shoulders as you kiss him harder, licking at his lips until he lets you in. you can’t get enough as you suck on his tongue. soobin feels your fingers hook into his belt hoops and tug. your hips start to move in their own, bucking into his front.

the friction pulls a deep sigh from you onto his pretty lips, “hyung,”

his breath hitches. if soobin was somehow still on the fence about doing this, hearing you moan for him was the final push he needed. he wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you closer, letting his hunger lead the way.

he can taste the tangy lime on your lips and can smell the faint liquor when you pull away from his lips, only to trail down to his neck. you kiss the soft skin. his smell is intoxicating too.

before you get lost in yourself, the older man warns quickly, “no marks.”

like some dirty secret. it turns you on even more. you know it does for him too. “got it,”

you press against him harder, dipping into his neck and licking the sweat off. you nibble and lick at his salty skin, rocking your hips against him in fervour. his chub hardens under your ministrations and he moans shyly by your ear.

a small creak and the dj’s booming voice fills your ear, indiscriminate and accompanied by cheers of the audience. then you’re alone again.

soobin kicks up a leg and hooks it around your waist, getting leverage to fuck into you. one of his hands drops from behind your neck to in front, urging you closer with a firm grip. can't have you thinking you're in charge here. even as you grope at his body, humping him like a dog in a rut.

the desperation sets him alight. the fire consumes you. or maybe it’s the alcohol. maybe it's the risk. you needed him. right now.

"hyung, can-can i suck you off?"

soobin's face explodes with heat at your request. he nods before he realises, biting his bottom lip. you fall to your knees even quicker, nuzzling into his bulge. he can't help as his hips flit into your face, large hands coming to rest on your head.

he doesn't push or pull you away, but you gaze up at him through your lashes. his dick swells with blood and tents his jeans. it sticks out like a sore thumb against your handsome face and exacerbates its presence. he can’t stop staring your puffy lips, mesmerised as they slick and shine with his spit.

soobin swallows, starting to shake his head as reality sets in again, fighting against the sexual demand rousing in his gut. this was too far and extremely inappropriate. one of his most sought-out students literally on their knees in a filthy stall in even sleazier settings, begging for a taste. there was no going back after this.

he shouldn’t.

"wait, you're drunk yn." your hands come to fiddle at his belt, the other rubbing his dick through his jeans. you can feel yourself salivate at the heat it exudes.

"i'm not drunk, 'm tipsy. you might not know it because of the generation gap, but there's a difference." he rolls his eyes.

“i’m not drunk either,”

“then we’re both on the same page. been thinking about this cock since the start of term. everyone wants a piece of you, hyung. i want it."

his body betrays him, cock throbbing below your palm at the confession. you grin wickedly. you finally manage to tug down his jeans and boxers enough for his length to fall out. your jaw falls slack in surprise as you take him in your hands. “fucking big, oh my god.”

soobin blushes further at your vulgarity. you kiss at his cockhead before dragging your tongue underneath to taste his arousal. your hand grasps the base as you take him into your mouth. his grip tightens.

you let your saliva build to make the entrance smooth, gazing up at your attractive professor. he stares down at you in disbelief. he twitches in your mouth and your eyes flutter shut in satisfaction, taking him deeper. soobin pulls up his shirt, exposing his chiselled stomach, to watch as his dick disappears between your thick lips.

“ohh~,” he sighs, other hand curling into a fist at the warmth of your mouth. his hips jerk like he doesn’t know whether to pull out or go further.

you can’t help but moan at the feeling. this was so hot. he was so hot. a part of you couldn't believe he was single. and you couldn’t care less about the mysterious wet spot you started to feel on your right knee.

you quickly start bobbing your head up and down, dragging broken moans from the older man. pleasure cracks down his spine as the devil on his shoulder cackles in glee. you fist the base of his dick, covering what you couldn't fit into your mouth.

“oh my— s-slow down yn, fuuck,” the lewd wetness of your mouth bounces off of your ears, his sweet moans only spurring you on. you don’t think you’ve given such enthusiastic head in your life. the taste of his salty precum trickling down your tongue is only a welcome boost for your endeavours.

you hum and soobin feels his eyes rolling back in pleasure at the vibration around his shaft, fucking into your hollow moist despite his better judgement. you can feel as your dick strains against your jeans, crying for attention but you pay it no mind.

“yeah, just like that… you’re soo good, ha-ah!” soobin’s thighs shake by your head as he falls further into bliss with every obscene slurp coming from your skilled lips, fingers curling into your hair. he’s almost forgotten where he is: lucky for him it seems right now isn’t peak time for the drunken pissers.

you push yourself closer to him in response to his praise, until you’re almost directly underneath his body, and swallow your gag reflex. if it weren’t for his jeans, you would’ve had his thighs wrapped around your head. from where you are gravity pulls soobin’s throbbing length further into your tight throat with ease, leaving no space for him to get away even with his long legs. he wouldn’t want to anyway.

the sound of you finally gagging around his thick cock, your fingers on his thigh and ass urging him deeper, is enough for him.

he releases into your mouth with a loud gasp and a whiny groan, curling over your body as pleasure racks his body. your eyes squeeze shut as his bitter cum fills your mouth and swallow rapidly, moaning endlessly around your professor’s squirting dick. the excess spills from your lips when you pull away to breathe.

the older pants above you too and his shirt drops. it sticks to his sweaty skin and is too short to hide his arousal, sparking in the barely burning light with your spit and his sperm. leaning forward again, you guzzle down his cock to slurp up the remains. he welcomes the extra attention with a lazy smile.

“shit, that was..”

“best head you’ve ever had?” your eyes shine when you look up at him lying against the wall like he had all the strength stolen from him, cheeks rosy. soobin tears his gaze from you as you run your tongue over your tempting lips, teeth appearing with your pleased grin. innocent like the both of you weren’t on the verge of a lifetime ban from the club and probably academia in general on his end.

“s’up there,”

a couple of seconds pass and he realises you still need to be taken care of. his next move is only given a second of consideration as his critical thinking cap finally gets tossed out the window — the young man had already passed the point of no return as soon as the both of you walked into the stall.

soobin spins around to face the wall and pushes his jeans down to his ankle. he bends over slightly and spreads open his cheeks, revealing to you his asshole. where a black plug sits comfortably.

your gulp is audible as you make eye-contact with the toy. but you push past your shock to reach up and grasp it, watching soobin's back flex as you poke and prod at his squishy insides.

"t-take it out," you do so instantly, greeted with the sight of his puckered rim, wet and pulsing. suddenly you were starving again. before you can dive in, after setting the plug down on the toilet tank, soobin speaks up again, "do you have a condom?"

no fucking way.

"y-yeah, yeah, i do." after rustling in your front pocket, heart thumping in your chest, you pull out a shiny rectangle.

"fuck, what are you waiting for then? put it on, get inside me," he demands. it lacks the authority his booming voice usually holds, laced with lust and a neediness that makes you dizzy.

you scramble to your feet, apparently a little too slow for his taste. the older spins around and takes it from you, ripping it open with his teeth. he drags you into a messy kiss as he unbuckles your jeans and belt with calculated yet rushed movements, betraying his intentions.

you're rock hard — and leaking buckets — in his big palm and he marvels at how he has trouble wrapping his fingers around you. were you just being generous with your compliment about his size earlier?

you're too busy moaning and huffing at his grip to notice. soobin’s barely touched you, but the fact that he's touching you (the crush of basically every sane member at your university), and rolling a condom onto your sex, excites you like nothing other. not to mention, him just having emptied his sweaty balls into your stomach.

the beauty spins around with a sultry hum, arching his ass into the curve of your cock. akin to a page out of a playboy magazine. “you’re so unbelievably sexy,”

he grins at you just as the bathroom door swings open again. you take the burst of noise to push into him. you both moan freely at the burn of the intrusion. the men in the room are loud; you think someone’s holding the door open because the sound doesn’t cease like it should. you’re thankful it doesn’t.

“fuck!”

you press him roughly into the wall and fail to keep quiet at the warm, gummy feeling of his inner walls. soobin cries out in white-hot pleasure as your hips gain a life of their own, thrusting into him. every buck shakes the older man to the core. your athletic body is solid against his backside, hands gripping at his tiny waist. god, is this how you feel? like a place he could melt into with no worries?

soobin thinks you’re cute too, as you curse and whimper under your breath in consideration of not getting caught. he thinks about how that same mouth made him feel just earlier. your stiff cock doesn’t disappoint, filling him up and stroking his swollen prostrate easily. soobin can’t deny how his body responds to your gifted touch, how his pride swells at having you so shameless for his attention. he wonders if this is how you usually acted for some dick.

your enthusiasm translates with your wandering hands as they push up his cropped shirt to reveal more of his milky skin. his abs are dense under your touch, the muscles dancing below the surface. you rock your cock into him with firm circles, staring at where he consumes you with eager eyes and even eager movements — he greets you with hiccupped moans.

the thumping music doesn’t help the adrenaline sparking through his veins but it briefly hides the rippling connection of your sinful activities from the other fun-seekers. the sound cuts off and you’re left alone again. the energy doesn’t dissipate.

soobin throws his head back, fingers curling against the wall by his head when he feels you start pull him down and impale him further on your throbbing length, grunting by his ear. the way your fingers sink into his skin is strangely possessive. he shivers at the idea of you claiming him, or maybe it's the cold metal of your jeans against his bare ass, slurred whispers falling from his lips.

“fuck me, ffuck me! god, yn don't stop fucking me!”

“yeah, you like that?”

soobin nods in affirmation as you fuck the breath out of his lungs, dark hair flying up and down, eyes squeezed closed. shit, this was so bad. him getting dicked down by someone so much younger. he’s enjoying it too much. you’re having the time of your life. his sloppy hole feels like a heavenly respite to your aching needs. he massages and presses on all your right spots, like his ass was made to embrace you. like your lives were orchestrated for this moment.

you slip your fingers past soobin's open lips and thrust into his wet mouth to the rhythm of your hips. “look at me when i fuck you, sir.”

you tone is slightly condescending as you turn his head; using honorifics while he opens his ass and mouth for you like a two-piece whore.

but soobin does look at you. you feel yourself gasp as you meet his teary doe eyes from behind, eyebrows knitted in overwhelming pleasure. his pretty lips wrapped around your fingers and sucking like they were something else. a line of drool trickles down his chin from the disturbance.

a moan falls from your lips as he gazes into your eyes like a succubus with potent allure, tempting you to fall deeper into his web. his smooth walls squeeze your most sensitive areas and the pleasure crackles up your spine. you were already entrapped.

utterly irresistible. you watch his eyes flutter as you remove your fingers to instead curl them around his biceps. you pull his upper body up to rest fully against yours and his spine curves in tandem, head falling on your shoulder and opening his front up.

he can feel his hardness swing helplessly with every slap of your hips against his ass, legs starting to shake. his pliant body bounces back and forth with ease, but with the way he’s crying out, you'd think he was being pushed to the limits. it certainly felt like he was. one glance down at his stomach proved that.

“you're sho—! so deep inside—!" he can't help the hand that reaches out to caress the swelling you make in his lower abdomen, growling as it protrudes against his palm every time you bottom out. somehow you catch onto his words and do the same. too smart for your own good.

burning satisfaction envelopes your frame at the feeling of your cockhead poking away inside your professor's stomach, twitching uncontrollably inside him with an airy moan. sweat drips down your arms and legs. you were about to explode.

"hyung 'm close, uhmnn ah, c-can i?"

"y-yes," comes his breathless reply. your hand slips down to wrap around his cock and pumps roughly. that's enough to push soobin over the edge again, clamping down and pulsing around your hard cock with a wail.

the cord snaps inside of you too as you trap him against the wall with your strength. his taut ass grips you so tight in place as you fall into ecstasy, you can't keep your noises to yourself, moaning shamelessly when the feeling of fiery-hot pleasure spreads down to your fingers and toes.

your hand pumping his cock doesn't let up and soobin's eyes white out. he writhes against your body as you fill him up and send him spiralling into the depths of peak pleasure with hushed encouragement. each squeeze of his balls reflects in his stomach and rim, barely able to contain the cream you dump in his ass.

"shit," you heave and fall backwards after you regain some sense, your upper back resting against the other side of the stall. the air is stuffy. stuffier than it was before, anyway. euphoria ripples across your nerves as it melts away, leaving a satisfying ache in your muscles.

your eyes trail your eyes over soobin’s bent over form in front of you: the back of his head, down the dark patch along the curves of his shirt where it collected his exertion, down to where his rosy ass cradles your throbbing dick.

your cum seeps from the base of the condom, and you briefly wonder if it ripped inside him. not much time to think, because his pale ass slowly sinks down again until the soft flesh sits flush against your pelvis, drawing a sigh from both of you. you glance back up at your professor's side profile at his actions. his eyes are closed in contentment. you did that.

your palm lands on his ass and rub the smooth flesh before you reluctantly pull out. he slumps further, shiny puckered rim pulsating at the loss of something holding him open. you bite your lip at the indecent picture. then, you remember the plug perched above the toilet and slide it back in tentatively. with no complaint, soobin lets you pull up his jeans and boxers.

"...thanks. needed that,"

"don't thank me. thank you. i'm gonna be thinking about this forever." he turns around to face you as you convey your gratitude(?), but his handsome, flushed face disappears out of sight when he falls to his knees and tears off the condom.

"what are you— o-ohh," soobin swallows your softening length. seems like he wanted to return the favour. his mouth is so warm and wet as he licks up your creamy fluid, you flinch from the overstimulation. "ha-aa,"

he slides off with a pop of his lips, looking up at you as he tucks you back into your clothes. when he rises to his feet he regards your messy appearance, face bright in the afterglow of your orgasm.

"just make sure to keep those thoughts to yourself, got it?"

this could not get out.

"not even you?" you move closer and rest a palm on his lower back, oddly happy to be able to see his face again. he's so fucking pretty. it would be such a pity if this was the last time you felt him. you know he feels the same…

"could keep it between us instead. i have a couple more things i think i could teach you, prof."

©2025 loveabunbun. all rights reserved.

[astrodice]

Who do you attract while being in a negative state based on matrix of destiny? (part 2)

part 1

What is matrix of destiny? It's a tool for understanding your soul's journey. This method is like a mix of tarot and numerology.

What does it mean being in a negative state? It means choosing to act in a way that is harmful to your mental, emotional or/and physical state. Basically, it has the same meaning as "underdeveloped placement" in astrology.

So in order to find who do you attract while being in a negative state we have to look at the karmic tail and the number located in the beginning of it (it's circled in the picture below)

12 - someone who has victim mindset, always in emotional stagnancy, escapist

13 - allergic to changes, can’t let go of the past, has Plyushkin syndrome (compulsive hoarder), pessimist 

14 - someone who is always in a hurry, unreliable, nitpicking, has unbalanced life

15 - someone who’s manipulative, constantly surrounded by abuse of some sort, can be alcohol/drug/sex addict, badmouths, cants see good things in life 

16 - emotionally unstable, explosive, constantly on the low

17 - doesn’t use/believe in their talents, jealous of others success, can be overly proud of themselves and think that they’re 10/10 when they’re not

18 - can’t accept the reality, head in the clouds, substance abuse, self loathing tendencies, lies

19 - someone who struggles with self esteem, feels drained, depressed

20 - conservative, afraid of changes, has difficult relationship with family, judgmental

21 - someone who can't meet their needs, experiences lack of closure, struggles with self-reflection, always in denial

22 - unserious, childish even, can't deal with the consequences, has tendency to get into trouble

[sturnioz]

Wait guys.. I had to put it here cause I have no one else to share this with but IMAGINE shy!reader getting a drink from her friend and doesn’t know its drugged so she gets insanely down bad for fratboy!chris and he knows better than to take advantage of her so he takes her to his room to sober her up with water and puts her to sleep and as he’s about to go back to the party she grabs his wrist and mumbles an ‘i love you, be safe’ and he’s all confused.

kinda changed this req up a little to fit their story, hope you dont mind <3

you hardly ever drink at frat parties — maybe just one here and there — but you prefer to keep it minimal, all thanks to chris who likes to ruin your fun (actually, you prefer not to drink, but sometimes you like blaming him just to see the look on his face when you do). but tonight, however, you decide to let yourself loose and have a few with your friend, and now a strange feeling envelops you.

a warm, fuzzy sensation spreads through your limbs, but it's quickly overshadowed by rising nausea and spinning dizziness. you stumble through the busy frat house, packed with rowdy students and faces you barely recognise. your friend reaches out to steady you, her voice laced with concern, but a strangled noise escapes your throat as you weakly push her away.

you legs feel like jelly, unsteady beneath you, as you navigate through the crowd, ignoring her drunken pleas to stay close. with each unbalanced step you take, the world around you blurs, and the energy of the frat house feels unbelievably overwhelming.

it all comes crashing down when you catch sight of chris in the kitchen, his confident grin lighting up the room as he hands something discreetly to some student, giving them a sly wink as he takes their money. a knot tightens in your stomach, and you wobble in his direction, your vision blurring and head spinning as the tears of frustration well in your eyes, a mix of confusion of not knowing what's going on and the overwhelming feelings.

chris double takes when he notice you — hearing you crash into someone accidentally, the sharp words of an annoyed stranger cutting through the noise as you babble your apologies, your slurred speech punctuated by a hiccup. without a second thought for the person he was dealing to, chris swoops in front of you, his hands gripping your cheeks, forcing you to meet his intense stare.

"fuck did you do? huh?" he immediately asks, his voice low and fierce, jaw clenched tightly. his eyebrows knit together as he studies your face, taking in the way your pupils are dilated, and a scoff escapes his lips. "you... y'took somethin', kid? you fuckin' serious?"

"n-noo, didn't," you slur your words, shaking your head quickly, the motion making the room spin even more as the rest of your words come out in a jumbled rush. "didn't.. i swear — prommm'se. dunno w'as happenin'."

"you.. you didn't take anythin'?" chris asks in disbelief, blinking at you as you nod your head again, letting out a gargled whine, your hands reaching out to grip his arms as your balance wavers.

instinctively, he shifts his hands from your cheeks to your waist, steadying yourself against him, and you can feel the warmth of his body through the fabric of your clothes, offering the slightest of comforts.

he prods his cheek with his tongue, clearly trying to process the situation as his brow furrows deeper, "right, right.. so uh, how are you fuckin' drugged, kid?"

"didnt take anythin'!!" you slur out again, the panic rising in your chest. tears brim in your eyes as strange sensations rush through your body, a disorientating mix of hot and cold. you hate how your brain feels all out of whack. "all — all i 'ad was a drink, and—"

"a drink?" chris cuts you off sharply. "who gave you the drink?"

"m'friend got it from another guy.." you blink repeatedly, trying to clear the blurriness that clouds your vision. "don' feeeel good, chris."

an almost frightening smile stretches across chris' lips as the realisation of what's happening hits him. anger simmers just beneath the surface, and he nods slowly, his eyes scanning the party like a predator with its prey.

his nostrils flare as he takes in the chaotic scene, his jaw locked. with a sharp sniff, he scrunches up his nose, grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator before wrapping his arm around your waist, guiding your sluggish body out of the kitchen and up the staircase to his room.

he carefully sits you down on the edge of the bed, and without a word, he unscrews the cap off the water bottle, bringing it to your lips. you sip slowly, the cool liquid soothing your dry throat, each swallow a small relief against the nausea.

"gonna... gonna need you to drink this f'me, yeah? all of it — make y'feel better, kid. promise."

"where.. you going?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly as you frown, water droplets trickling own your chin. your hands curl around his wrist, gripping tightly in fear that he would disappear.

"m'gonna go find out who's been fuckin' with the drinks, kid. gonna... gonna teach 'em not to.. to fuck around, y'know?" chris tells you, a slight scary edge to his tone that makes your frown deepen. "doin' this to keep you safe, bun."

"safe?" you murmur softly, and chris nods his head firmly. "'kay... safe." you reluctantly release his wrist, sinking down deeper into the plush pillows, hoping the comforting softness will help calm the raging storm in your head. "m'love yo.. b'safe."

"what?" chris blinks, his brows knitting together in confusion and disbelief as he stares down at you. he pulls a face, unsure if he's heard you correctly, and shakes his head with a loud, incredulous scoff.

his heart thrums uncomfortably in his chest, and he bites down hard on his cheek as he hesitantly tugs the blanket up to your shoulders, making sure you're warm and comfortable before he scratches his slightly stubbled jaw, lips pursed deep in thought as he steps backwards, giving you one last look over before leaving the bedroom, ensuring that the door is shut, searching for his frat brothers — searching for matt.

[yandere-daydreams]

i couldn’t read past suguru saving one of the less traditional virginities of yours for satoru…

got swept up with ass only for satoru.. pray that suguru doesn’t get your pregnant (he does) bcs the court will not be happy when the next heir is looking like the king’s advisor instead of the king (they’ll execute the ppl regardless tho i tink)

tw - afab!reader, non/con, LOTS of anal, and unbalanced power dynamics.

this ask inflicted me with the Rot unfortunately,,, no because imagine it,,,, even outside of the royalty au,,, just walk with me here i promise it'll be worth it,,,

satoru gets put on ass-only by suguru as a punishment. the justification doesn't make a difference. maybe he's been fucking you too often, leaving your pussy too sore for suguru to take his turn, or maybe suguru's just in a particularly malicious mood that day - the only thing that really matters is the fact that satoru is no longer able to engage with his favorite comfort object (your pussy) and is left with only a pale imitation to pass the time. he may whine that prep takes too long, that it's not fun if he can't feel you getting wetter and wetter around him, but he's never going to go against something suguru say and you're going to be the one who pays for it, even if you aren't technically the one being punished.

and satoru doesn't like it, at first. he hates having to remember to keep lube stocked, hates the way you cry and cry and cry as he stretches you open, but he gets used to it - even starts not mind, after a few days. sure, it's a pain, but it's kind of nice that you can't try to claw his eyes out while lying on your stomach, and even if he still misses his first love, it's kind of cute when your choked sobs turn to desperate whimpers, when you have to ask him to rub your clit because he's too caught up in the way your ass feels wrapped around him to get to it on his own. soon enough, he stops pestering suguru to lift his pussy-ban, and not long after that, suguru sees fit to stop denying your poor cunt attention, even though you've never dared to complain. still, satoru is having so much fun, and surely, there's no reason to stop him just because more than one part of you needs tending-to.

you'll just have to learn to live with receiving too very different kinds of love at the exact same time <3

[moody-alcoholic]

Sub Ala Angeli

Part 3 - O My Soul

Summary: Ghoap x fallen angel!reader, mini fic.

Sub ala angeli - Under the wing of an angel.

CW: It's just fluff with a little religious stuff.

Previous - masterlist - next

Enjoy <3

You wake to an empty bed. Your neck hurts, your back hurts, everything hurts. You swing your legs out pulling yourself up. You still feel unbalanced as you get to your feet. You tuck your wing in though, pulling it against your back. 

You head for the door, the building is cold, there's a chill in the air. You make it down the hall to the kitchen. You see Simon sat with his back to you, Johnny sticks his head out from the kitchen. 

“Mornin!” He chimes, smiling. “Eggs? Bacon?” Simon turns in his chair to look at you. 

“Let’s try tea first.” He says pulling out the chair next to him. You go over to sit down. Simon smiles at you, you look round the house again there’s a fire lit but the place still feels cold. 

“How did you sleep?” Simon asks, putting down his phone and picking up a mug. 

“Good. I think.” 

“Let me guess. No sleep in heaven?” Simon says, taking a sip of his drink. You smile. Johnny comes over with a plate in his hand and places it in front of you. It’s piled high with food. He puts down a mug too you look over at it pulling it towards you. 

It’s hot in your hands and smells sweet, you bring it to your mouth to taste. It tastes good, sweet and warm. You look down at the food your stomach rumbles and you pick up a fork and spoon some eggs into your mouth. 

“Mmh, these are amazing.” You say your mouth is still half full. 

“Try the bacon.” Johnny encourages pointing at your plate. You stab a piece of the meat. It’s salty, it makes your mouth water. The rumbling in your stomach doesn’t go until you’re halfway through your plate. 

You put your fork down when you feel uncomfortable, if you were to eat another bite you would be sick. You look between them both not sure what to say. 

“Why did you get exiled?” Simon asks after a few seconds of silence. You look over at him, you look in his eyes. You were told once that eyes are the windows to a soul. You have no soul, you never will even if you roam the Earth pretending to be human for the next hundred years you’ll never be one of them. 

Simon has kind eyes, there's a troubled soul behind them. But a kind one, there’s trust behind them too trust and safety. You trust them.

“I was a guardian angel.” You look down at your hands. “God has a plan for everyone. It doesn’t matter if you agree with it or not. It’s His plan. Guardian angels are there, to make sure that plan gets executed.” 

“Do we have guardian angels?” Johnny asks. You look round the room. You can’t see theirs, maybe you’ll never be able to see other angels again. 

“Everyone has one.” You reply. 

“What happened?” Simon asks.

“He was a kid, he was supposed to die.” You say. “I intervened.” 

“You saved his life.” Johnny says.

“No. He still died. But I had messed with God’s plan.” You look up at Johnny. “No one messes with God’s plan.” 

No one says anything, there’s silence round the table. You feel sad, you failed your mission, you failed your calling. 

“If God has a plan for us all then why did you end up in our backyard?” Johnny asks, reaching over the table to pick up your hand.

“I don’t know God’s plan for you.” You say looking between them. 

“What about you?” Simon asks, his hand lands on your thigh.

“Angels don’t have fates. We’re made to serve, we have no souls.” You say. It feels like there’s an awkward silence in the room, Simon squeezes your thigh, you look up at him and smile. 

“Where are we?” You ask looking out the window.  

“Scotland.” Johnny says. You stand up going over to the window in the living room. 

“It’s very beautiful.” You say, Johnny comes behind you. 

“Wanna go for a walk?” He asks. You turn to him and smile nodding a little too enthusiastically. 

It feels like things take longer than they should before you leave, Johnny seems just as excited as you almost bouncing off the walls as Simon tries to find you some shoes that fit.

“I’ll just carry her si.” Johnny says, pulling his coat on. 

“I’ll find something.” Simon calls from the bedroom. Johnny smiles holding out a jacket. It won’t fit round your wing, luckily Johnny seems to know that. 

“Put your arms through, you can just wear it on your front.” He says, you nod, slipping your arms through. It’s not particularly comfy but it’s warm at least. Johnny then turns his back bending his legs and patting his back. 

“Hop up lass.” You raise an eyebrow. 

“Are you sure?” You ask. 

“Yeah, you’re as light as a feather.” He says turning slightly to smile at you. You let out a sigh, jumping up wrapping your hands around his neck. His arms hook under your knees. His grip is strong, he holds you tight and firm against him. 

He turns as Simon comes back through the hallway into the living room. He sees you on Johnny’s back and sighs. 

“Couldn’t find anything?” Johnny asks. Simon holds up some fluffy black socks. 

“We won't go far.” Johnny reassures him. Simon nods seemingly relenting and coming over to you both. You watch as Simon pulls the socks over your feet, you wiggle your toes looking down at them. Johnny hitches you up following Simon to the front door. 

“We’ll buy you some clothes.” Simon says, opening the door. 

“You don’t have to.” You say, it’s like an automatic response. You feel like you need to apologise. 

“I don’t think Si wants to be cutting holes in all his shirts.” Johnny chuckles. 

“No, of course not.” You say as Johnny walks through the door. You’re hit with a cool breeze. The attack on your senses is almost too much. New smells, new sounds, new everything. You look up watching the tops of the trees sway. It’s cold but not too cold, with the jacket and Johnny’s body heat you’re nice and warm. 

You hear birdsong, the sway of the trees. Other animals to and water, the lapping of a stream or maybe a river. The air feels charged, damp and stuffy. The sky is gray contrasted by fluffy white clouds.

“Do you live out here?” You ask them as Johnny carries you through the woodland. 

“No, we’re on holiday.” Johnny says. 

“How did you both meet?” You ask. 

“Through work.” Johnny says.

“What do you do for work?” you ask looking over at Simon, his hands are shoved in his pockets. 

“We’re soldiers,” he says.  

“Are you married?” Simon looks over at you. “I saw the rings.” 

“Is that a problem?” He asks. You smile at him and shake your head. He raises an eyebrow anyway. 

“Why would it be a problem?” You ask. He doesn’t say anything, turning away. “Love is love. You’re good people, with beautiful souls.” 

“Beautiful souls?” Johnny asks. 

“I can see your souls.” You say. 

“What does my soul look like?” Johnny asks hitching you on his back again.

“You have a kind soul, a safe and grounded soul.”

“What about Simon?” Johnny asks, you look over at him. 

“Your soul is beautiful but troubled. You’re like a lighthouse in a storm.” You let out a sigh feeling sad all of a sudden. “You have both suffered, but you’re stronger and better people because of it.” 

“You sound like a shrink.” Simon says. 

“What’s a shrink?” You ask confused. 

“Ignore him.” Johnny chuckles. “What other powers do you have?” You sigh, you haven’t really tested it, in Heaven you had a lot of powers, you expect it’s not the same now you’re on Earth. You look around again, you still haven’t seen their guardian angels, but they could just be hiding themselves. 

“I can’t fly anymore.” That's an obvious one. You look over your other shoulder, you’re still not used to seeing no wing there, it feels wrong. You still feel unbalanced when you walk, even when you sit or stand you find yourself leaning to the right against your wing. 

“Some angels can heal people, small wounds and bruises. I was never very good at it, you’re also not supposed to do it.” 

“Why?” Simon asks. 

“Interfering with humans is forbidden. We’re supposed to observe and watch.” You say looking back at him. He still seems skeptical about something, maybe he never believed in a God until he met you. 

“Do you have halos?” Johnny asks. 

“No, only the archangels have halos.” You smile. 

“The rules seem complicated.” Simons says. 

“Have you ever met an archangel?” Johnny asks. 

“Gabriel.” You say. 

“What’s he like?” Johnny asks, you shrug. You don’t really remember much, they weren’t there to see you, they wanted to speak to someone else. They have always come across as such powerful angels, someone to look up to and act like. 

You were never important, all you had to do was make sure God’s plan was working as intended, you couldn’t even do that. 

“Here, what do you think?” Johnny asks stopping. You sit up a little better and look over his shoulder. 

Your breath catches in your throat, you’ve never seen anything like it before. There are massive rolling hills and fields as far as you can see. There’s a river running between them, it looks full, almost bursting over the banks. You can hear the sounds of lapping water, you follow the flow of the water to jagged rocks. You’re almost pulling yourself off Johnny, you want to get closer to it. Closer to the beautiful nature before you. 

Even though you have no shoes Johnny lets you down. You walk over to the cobblestone wall and brace yourself on it. Wind blows past you, you close your eyes breathing it in. You’ve never experienced this before, the feel of wind and the bite of the cold air. 

There are smells you’ve never experience, even the feel of the wet stones and moss under your hands is new. You look down seeing a little bug crawl past your fingers. In the distance you can see sheep with thick wool and black faces. You smile, taking in a long breath. You don’t even know how to describe half the smells, they smell good through, refreshing and relaxing. 

The breeze feels good blowing through your feathers, you stretch your wing out behind you raising it up in the air. You can feel the wind catching in it, if you had another wing you could propel yourself high up in the sky. 

Instead you’re stuck on the ground. 

You should be grateful, you’re alive. On Earth, you could have been sent to the depths of Hell. 

“It’s beautiful.” You say. 

“It’s a field.” Johnny chuckles coming to stand next to you. Your feet are getting wet from the damp grass but you don’t care, it feels nice being in a world you’ve always only observed. 

“It’s beautiful.” you repeat turning to look at him. He has a soft smile on his face, his head is tipped slightly. There’s a glint in his eyes, wide blue eyes. There’s that feeling again, the one that makes your heart rate pick up and you feel heat rush to your face. 

You look away, turning to look over at Simon, he smiles looking down at you. 

“You should see it in the mornings, when the fog is low and the dew is coating the grass.” He says, Johnny’s hand runs up your back. You flex your wing, stretching it up as a stronger breeze blows around you. You let it catch the wind and you feel it pulling you, you let out a sigh pulling your wing back in. 

It doesn’t feel right, it feels like it’s teasing. You’ll never fly again, why even try and enjoy the feeling of air rushing through your feathers. You pull it round so you can see it, running your fingers through the gaps where feathers used to be. You look up at Simon.

“Do you want to feel?” You ask lowering it so you can see him better. His hand lands on the top of your wing, he runs it down almost identically to how Johnny touched it. His touch is gentle, his hands are bigger than Johnny’s. 

“It’s like silk.” He says. You bring your wing down, running your own hand through the same feathers on the other side.

“I’m sorry you got hurt.” Simon says, you flick your eyes up at him. 

“I only got what I deserve.” You reply, this time the cold breeze makes you shiver, pulling your wing and arms around you. 

“Let’s get back.” Simon says, you turn to jump back on Johnny, instead Simon pulls your arm turning and bending his knees. You smile and hop up wrapping your arms around his neck, just like you did with Johnny. 

...

When you get back Johnny says he has something to show you. He goes into the bedroom and comes back out with what looks like a wooden box. He places it on the small coffee table, when he opens it you see half used paint tubes, a collection of paint brushes and different drawing tools. There are different types of paper and an old looking leather bound book.

You reach over taking one of the pieces of paper with a very pretty painting of a house, this house but from the outside with a sunset. 

“Beautiful, did you draw these?” You ask him. He nods smiling, you put the painting back down and look over the others as he fishes through the box for something. You see other drawings too, drawings of people, big trucks and what look like weapons. 

“Who’s that?” You ask pointing at a drawing of another young looking person. 

“Gaz. Work colleague.” He’s wearing a green shirt, he has a nice smile. 

“What exactly do you do for work?” You ask as he takes out a small leather bound book. 

“We’re soldiers.” Johnny says, you look back down at the drawings of the weapons and massive trucks. They look scary, it’s a new feeling, they make goosebumps rise on your body.   

“Do you kill people?” You ask. He turns to look at you, You hear Simon stop too, the clank of a pot in the sink. You suddenly feel like you’ve done something wrong. 

“We kill the bad guys.” Johnny says. 

“Who are the bad guys?” You watch Johnny’s eyes flick up to Simon quickly then back down to you. He shifts on the sofa coming towards you. 

“We go after the people who hurt innocent people.” He sighs, “terrorists.”

“Repay no one evil with evil.” You whisper under your breath. 

“Judge not, that you be not judged.” He replies. You smile. It’s not your job to judge them, it’s not your job to do anything anymore. You let the smile fade. You’re useless now, you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. At least they have a purpose. 

“Do you think you could ever describe it?” Johnny asks changing the subject. You look up at him frowning. “Heaven.” 

“I-” You start but the words catch in your throat. Something overcomes you, dread, horror. You swallow trying to get the feeling to go away.  

“I don’t know how to describe it.” You say, you can imagine it in your mind. Bright and white, but it’s more of a feeling. A feeling of happiness, a feeling of being safe and loved. 

“It’s okay, I can just draw you instead.” Johnny says smiling. You feel embarrassed all of a sudden. 

“You don’t have to draw me.” You say, he reaches over, picking up a pencil and leaning back on the sofa. 

“I like to draw pretty things.” He smiles. You smile back getting comfy on the sofa. You sit still for what feels like hours while Johnny sketches you. He doesn’t say anything, only responding to Simon when he asks food questions. 

You enjoy watching him, he’s so focused, his eyes flicking from the page to your face. You can’t help smiling as he presses his lips together furiously rubbing something on the page before spinning the pencil in his hand and going back to sketching. 

“Have you ever drawn Simon?” You ask as the sun seems to be going down. Your body is stiff, you want to stretch but you don’t want to mess up his concentration. 

“He doesn’t stay still long enough.” Johnny says. “Unless he’s sleeping.”

“How did you know?” You ask, Johnny looks up at you tipping your head. 

“Know what?” 

“That Simon was the one.” He smiles at you. 

“He’s great in bed.” Johnny says. 

“Johnny.” Simon’s voice calls from the kitchen with a sigh, you look behind you to see him standing at the sink. He doesn’t seem to notice you looking, you look round the rest of the house down the hallway. There’s only 2 other rooms, the bathroom and the bedroom. 

“Where do you sleep?” You ask frowning and looking at him. 

“The couch pulls out into a bed.” He replies brushing the page of his journal. 

“You should take the room. I’ll sleep out here.” You say, you feel guilt, you don’t think you like that feeling. 

“No, it’s not a problem lass.” Johnny says. 

“No, please take the bed. I really want you to.” You say. He smiles, putting his pencil down. 

“Just for the night.” Johnny says. You smile and nod, you’ll take it for now, you can negotiate in the morning. You yawn, stretching and turning your stiff neck. When you look back up at Johnny he’s sat up straight. He turns the book round to face you. 

Your mouth tips open in awe, you’ve never seen yourself before. Never seen yourself drawn. Everything about the drawing is stunning. It’s like he’s captured a light in your eyes you never knew you had. You must not make any idols. Don't make any statues or pictures of anything up in the sky or of anything on the earth or of anything down in the water. 

“It’s-” You look up at Johnny. “It’s beautiful.” 

Johnny smiles, his hand rests on your thigh.

“Yeah, you’re pretty stunning love.” 

As you’re handing the book back to Johnny Simon calls telling you food is ready. It smells good, something tickles the back of your nose. Whatever it is looks good too. Simon calls it ‘pasta’ as he spoons some into your bowl. They both drink wine while you stick to water. 

The food is good, even better when Johnny adds something called ‘parmesan’ to it. After you’ve eaten Johnny shows you how to use the shower. This time he leaves the room when he’s done. You shower scrubbing your body under the hot water. 

When you’re done Johnny brings you another shirt with a hole in it. He helps you pull your wing through, his hands linger on the ruffled feathers still dripping with moisture. You feel tired already, your body feels heavy. You follow Johnny back into the living room. Simon is pulling the curtains closed round all the windows. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind being out here? We’re more than happy to sleep here.” Johnny says pulling the covers back on the sofa that has now been pulled out into a large bed. The coffee table is pressed up against the other wall. 

“We’ve slept in worse places.” Simon says coming over to you. 

“You two need to be with each other.” You say, you reach out and touch Johnny's arm. “It’s okay, honestly.”

“Okay, well you know where we are if you need us.” Johnny says, you drop your hand from his arm. You go over and get into the bed. You pull the duvet over your chest, relaxing your wing. There is less pain now as you lean back. There are a lot of pillows for you to lean into. 

Simon flicks the lights off and walks over to Johnny slipping his arm around his waist. The only light coming through the house is from their bedroom. 

“Sleep well, yeah,” Johnny says.

“You too.” You nod, smiling at them before they turn heading towards their room. 

The door closes and you’re left in the dark in silence. It’s nice, you can see the moon out one of the windows. You’ve never seen the moon before, so bright in the sky, it’s cut up by the swaying of the trees. You lean down on the pillows watching the light dance around the room. 

…

“Wake up.” A voice calls in your head. You open your eyes, there’s light filling the room forcing you to close your eyes again. You prop yourself up your eyes adjusting to the bright light that's filling the room. You turn looking out to see an angel hovering just off the ground. 

Their glow is warm, almost like there's a fire in the room, you look up at them. The ceiling is white, there is no ceiling at all, you’re staring up at an infinitely high white and yellow sky. You’re overcome with a sense of happiness, nothing matters right now, you feel safe, you are safe. 

“You’re Johnny’s guardian angel.” You reply in your head. You can already hear Simon’s voice ‘what no talking in heaven?’ 

“I am.” They reply. 

“Why can I see you?” You ask. 

“You were once one of us.” They say as a matter of fact. 

“You have a message.” You say swallowing the nerves. 

“I have a warning.” They reply. You nod, crawling over to the end of the bed. They extend their wings propelling themself in the air. 

“John MacTavish will die in a week.” 

“No!” You shout out loud this time, reaching forward. Instead you stumble, falling off the end of the sofa bed onto the floor. You pull yourself up swinging your wing at them, it crashes into the coffee table sending shooting pains through your back.

There’s no point, even if you could hit them, they're an angel, you can’t hurt them. You can feel tears run down your face even with the overwhelming sense of joy rushing through you. 

“What am I supposed to do?” You ask in your head. You feel them bend down by you, you feel their warm hand land on your back. 

“You have to save him.” They say. It sounds like an order, why does it sound like an order? It doesn’t matter if it’s an order or not there’s no way you’re letting Johnny die. 

You hear the bedroom door open and feet hitting the wooden floors. The bright light vanishes leaving you back in darkness and the feeling of joy goes along with it. Hands land on you, you let out a sob as Johnny pulls you into his arms. 

“What is it?” Simon asks, his hand stroking your back. What are you supposed to say to them? 

Johnny’s going to die. 

No, no he’s not, you’re going to save him because he saved you.

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