#and then we just decided to keep finding bad books to read | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leahsgirl · 2 months

Note

can you write something else based in the homemade love universe :)

sun kissed escapade | leah williamson x reader

in which you and leah go on holiday with your three-year-old.

might make leah with kids fanfics my whole personality because im down bad for them

“and what do you think you’re doing?” the blonde stood at the bottom of the stairs, her arms folded over her chest as she shook her head disapprovingly.

“leah i’m capable of carrying wren’s case.” you replied carrying your daughters peppa pig suitcase down.

“and have the possibility of you falling? no can do princess.” she grabbed the luggage off you despite the protesting and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your lips. “are you going to let me help at all?”

“nope!” leah had without a doubt been very protective and helpful since finding out about your second pregnancy. but that also meant she didn’t let you do anything if she thought it involved the slightest bit of hard work.

“are we all set then?” you asked.

“yep, everything’s packed.” the defender scooped her daughter into her arms, making her squeal in delight. “we’re gonna have so much fun aren’t we baby?”

wren giggled and nodded enthusiastically, her tiny hands reaching out to play with leah’s hair.

after a few hours of travelling - a difficult task when trying to keep a toddler entertained, you made it to the beachfront hotel youse were staying at. Instantly revelling in the sun’s rays and the general smell of the heat abroad.

the three of you occupied yourselves with spending time at the pool, opting for just a chill first day. “bleedin’ hell they don’t make these easy do they?” leah sat on a sunbed catching her breath as she tried to blow up wren’s armbands.

“babe you’re letting all the air out.” pointing to the open cap that wasn’t covered. “oh for god’s sake.” despite the cursing and countless breaks the blonde managed to do it as you’d just finished lathering sun cream onto the little girl’s face.

“don’t go running off missus.” you tell wren before letting her waddle off to the kids pool. pulling your beach bag closer to you, you take out the book you’ve been reading and get yourself comfy on the sun lounger. “you not coming in?” leah motioning to the water as she throws off her sliders.

“i’m just gonna relax for a while, read my book.” not looking up as your eyes stayed fixed on the page in front of you. she pressed a kiss on your forehead “okay darlin’.”

not even ten minutes later and you find yourself being smothered by a dripping wet wren whose bombarded you in a hug. “oh my gosh! wrenny i’m soaked through now.”

the toddler shrugged apologetically “mama told me to do it.” your eyes darting over to the older girl who was at the edge of the pool laughing cheekily. “oh did she now?”

“oh come on it’s just a bit of a laugh, stop being boring and come join us.” leah chimed, wren joining in on the pleading.

you caved, making your way over to the steps and into the warm water. leah grabbed at your waist, dragging you closer to deep end. “see this is much better than your book.”

you rolled your eyes playfully “i’ll have you know it was getting to the good part before you decided to use our child for your scheming.”

the skipper just smirked “it worked no?” happy her plan to get you in the pool succeeded. “just this time williamson.”

she pressed you against the wall, staring directly into your orbs, a dopey grin on her face. “i love you.” the words falling effortlessly from her lips as you repeated them. her mouth attached to your neck, peppering delicate kisses up to the back of your ear, a place she knew you was sensitive. you were thankful the hotel was quiet and secluded, only a few other people around who were too wrapped up in their own worlds to notice the public display of affection.

—

“princess - wait up!” leah called out to a very excited wren who you chased after while the arsenal player was busy unloading stuff out the rental car.

the toddler made a beeline for the sand and sea, eager to splash about. “we can’t be running off like that sweetie.” you getting your breath back now caught up with the little one. “sorry mommy.”

leah now joining youse, she laid out beach towels for you all to lie down along with passing you a cold bottle of water; the two humans inside you making you thirsty like no man’s business.

you occupied yourself with building sandcastles with wren, soaking in the quality time of just the two of you - only a couple of months remaining until you’d be a family of five. the blonde watched on in admiration, sneaking a couple of cute photos that she’d be posting later on for her ‘holiday camera roll dump’.

a good hour had passed - and lord what an hour it had been. it turns out the day you decided to go to the beach was also the day they was offering surfing lessons, so of course leah had to participate, her competitive spirit just as prevalent 4,000 miles away here than it was back home. “be prepared to be blown away by your incredibly sexy, multi-talented fiancé.” the taller woman winked before running off to join the group.

you and wren watched on from a distance, the small blonde sat in between your legs with your arms wrapped loosely around her stomach. “what’s your mother got herself into now hm wrenny.”

the three year old just giggled, nuzzling herself closer to you.

now if there’s one word to describe your partner’s performance on the waves - it would be hilarious. the poor girl could not stay on the board to save her life despite the adamant determination. when she did eventually stand up on the thing she got too excited and fell straight back into the water, the taste of salt getting unbearable at this point.

she made her way back over to you, a small scowl on her face now that she received a bruise to the ego. “have fun?” you asked finding this very amusing. “stupid surfboard - it clearly had something wrong with it!”

you patted her back reassuringly “maybe just stick to football love.” managing to get a little smile out of her as you pecked her lips.

“you thought i was good didn’t you angel?” leah diverting her attention over to the toddler who avoided the question, nuzzling into you more. “well it looks like beach 1, leah williamson 0.”

the centre-back mocked offence “i’m gonna give you two 10 seconds to run before i get you.”

you matched wren’s childish squeals as you ran off hand in hand away from the blonde, it not taking it long for leah to catch up and swiftly lift her daughter into her arms tickling her all over. “oh no looks like you’ve been caught wrenny.” sticking your tongue out playfully.

“erh you’re not off the hook either.” using her freehand to rope you in closer and have your lips crash together for a bruising kiss. “don’t see how that was much of a punishment babe.” you say once breaking apart.

“just giving you a glimpse of tonight’s agenda.” smirking cockily and smacking your butt.

—

nearing the end of your relaxing getaway, the three of you chose to go on an evening walk into town to find a restaurant to eat at. your hand intertwined with leah’s as she pushed wren in her pram.

after reading countless outside menu’s, you finally agreed on a small italian, leah content at the fact there was the option of chicken nuggets. “such a child.” you teased while being escorted to your table.

before leah could counter back she was being tapped on her side, small hands pointing to a little playground area set up at the end of the restaurant “can we go play?”

leah exchanged a glance with you waiting for approval, your lips curling up in a tender smile. “sure thing sweetheart, go have some fun.”

wren wasted no time in scampering up the ladder of the slide before abruptly stopping once at the top, the five feet off the ground suddenly very daunting. "c'mon you've got it." leah encouraged noticing the uneasy facial expression on the girl's face. "can you do it with me?"

giving in, no one surviving the puppy eyes wren gave when we wanted something, leah sat at the top of the kid's apparatus and positioned wren on her lap. "here we go baby."

huge grins on the toddlers face as they slid down - until they hit a snag that is; leah's hips getting wedged either side of the slide's edges, leaving both girls in an awkward predicament.

"uh-oh." the blonde muttered, attempting to wriggle free to no avail. "i think we're stuck."

wren's eyebrows furrowing in concern as she glanced back in your direction where you sat down rubbing your bloated stomach, people watching. she manoeuvred out of leah's grip, descending down the remainder of the slide.

"mommy! mama's stuck!" she tugged at your shirt urging you to get up and follow her. "mama's what?" you asked but didn't need your daughter to reply as your eyes landed on a very grumpy looking leah.

"oh wow, what's happened here?" trying to contain your amusement but failing miserably when a laugh escaped your lips.

leah's frustration was only mounting as she struggled to free herself. "its not funny." she grumbled, shooting a glare your way. "a little help would be appreciated."

"right, sorry." you attempted to slot your hand between the slide and her thigh hoping it would loosen the grip but it was useless. "babe please hurry people are starting to stare." despite the woman's strength, it was like she was superglued in place as she tried to break free. "why does this stuff only happen to you?" racking your brain for another plan.

leah folded her arms "i don't know but I'm stopping being the fun parent that's for sure."

you rolled your eyes playfully. "i'm gonna have to ask for help." scanning around for someone to help you. "no! this is embarrassing enough." to say this was humiliating for the older woman was an understatement. "honey its the only way - i can't get you out and wren definitely can't."

huffing but ultimately having to accept, leah let you call over a waiter who noticed your struggle. and after what felt like an eternity and three staff members later, your fiancé was set free, slightly disheveled but unharmed. wren burst into a fit of giggles, finding the entire ordeal utterly amusing.

"don't you dare send that video to anyone." leah noticing how you discreetly (or so you thought) video taped her whole rescue mission. you kissed her cheek "never babe. come on lets go eat."

after a very delicious meal that the restaurant kindly offered to pay for due to the trauma leah just faced, the said girl whipped out her phone, it buzzing relentlessly for the past ten minutes.

"babe why do i have multiple texts asking about the slide incident? who did you send it to?"

innocently smiling at her you shrugged. "no one really - just your mum..and our england teammates..maybe a few arsenal girls."

leah gawped at you, stopping in her tracks "you wouldn't dare."

holding up your phone to show her the messages, her face drained in humiliation. "i do dare." the opportunity to showcase the side of leah people rarely see too good - how could you not?

"oh you are so dead."

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso community #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #england lionesses #lionesses #request

623 notes · View notes

inkskinned · 10 months

Text

i know some of the poets outside of their books, like cameron awkward-rich; who was my seminar teacher for a semester in grad school. you know him, he wrote about keeping his hand on the walls of his stupid heart. he gave us a journal without lines in it, so the pages were all blank and naked. we had to write down 3 words every day, ruminations on our own lives.

in pink glitter pen, i watched my handwriting cramp and spill from pristine and well-meaning to the slant of someone deeply suffering. the words stopped being lyrical over the course of february. bad, it said. bad and bad and bad. each day carving out a little bit of marrow, the sparrow of my heart acting as roadkill. that winter i was only allowed to eat apples, like a horse. my ocd had decided i could only touch food if it was red. i was sleeping on the floor and a spider bit me.

i wanted him to be my thesis advisor, but it was covid the next year, and we never spoke again, and i'm worried that i embarrassed myself by asking him repeatedly. for my final project in his class, i wrote about my disability. i called myself a rat, fondly.

his most famous poem is titled Meditations in an Emergency. i didn't know it until three weeks after i had graduated from that university.

at one point, he sat me down after class just to discuss some of my work. it was a night class, and we were all a little drowsy. he blinked up at me. i think sometimes the way you see the world is a little bit alarming. i wonder about that, in hindsight. i wonder if all of us who are walking on thumbtacks always recognize when someone else's spine is the undulating form of a siren. i could see it in him and you can see it in me, if you're looking.

yesterday nat said some of this is worrying.

i told cameron i was fine and i told nat i was fine, but i think maybe all of us had learned a long time ago how to be fine the way a poem is fine - because it happens outside of you. it can be honest, the confession, but it cannot be spelled out across your ribs. we make our art so that the sorrow can hang, limbless, trembling on the fetid walls beside us.

you learn to turn the ugliness into some kind of work, because you must smash the entire human experience of your stupid bones and teeth and tongue into something, so that you have anything to show for it. otherwise, what is the fucking point. why were you suffering, if not to polish the runoff and say - the melancholy is the signature of my art. i took the splinters out of my gums and filed them down into a thesis. the thesis has been turned into a book which is getting published.

cameron, to my knowledge, still has not read it.

i hope he has found his way out of the maze. i hope you and i one day write our own lanterns. i hope we are able to find some kind of peace without viscera. without having to fight for it. i hope we are able to stumble without falling. i hope one day the sky is empty of vultures and we can cross the desert of our memories without starving.

in the meantime we get up and leave the circled shadow in the writing.

#writeblr #warm up #idk what this is

2K notes · View notes

bunnidarling · 3 months

Text

Commissioned by me from the amazing @poofroom

Excerpt from "My Pearl":

“So much for being quiet.”

Averyll laughed, “I’m sure I’ll hear about it tomorrow. I don’t really care… do you?” He asked, suddenly feeling vulnerable

“No, my dear, I don’t mind.”

Averyll wondered if that meant they could be more affectionate in the light of day, but wasn’t about to ask. “Can I return the favor?” Averyll asked, wetting his lips with a smile.

“Mmm… perhaps later.” Astarion curled up to Averyll’s side, resting his head on his chest. “Why don’t you keep reading that book. It’s absolute trash, you’ll love it.”

He chuckled and curled an arm around Astarion, “You want me to keep reading it out loud?” Averyll asked, stroking Astarion’s hair with his free hand.

“Mmm hmm, and feel free to insert your own commentary.” Astarion said with a soft chuckle, curling his thigh up over Averyll’s. “I’m not joking. It’s utter tripe.”

Averyll looked over the cover to the book again, “One Night in Nashkel: After months of imprisonment in the Nashkel mines, Enchanter Xan cannot bear his solitude any longer, and decides to pleasure himself with the only companion he has: his sentient sword the Moonblade.” He giggled, “Sounds hot.”

He could feel Astarion’s cheeks pull in a smile against his chest, “I’m sure it would be it didn’t read like it was written by an uneducated teenage boy that just discovered what sex is. It is, at the very least entertaining, if not for its intended purpose.”

Averyll raised a brow, still petting Astarion’s hair. “My pretty kitty.” Astarion turned his head and nipped at Averyll’s chest but otherwise didn’t protest.

“Ok, here we go.” Averyll started, holding the book up spread with one hand so he could continue petting Astarion. He cleared his throat, “Time to find out if this is as bad as you say it is.”

“It’s worse.”

Averyll chuckled, “One day when Xan the enchanter woke up, he realized he was horny. He was horny and he had been that way a long time. It had been a long time because he was imprisoned for many months. Gods you weren’t kidding.”

“I told you. Keep going darling, it gets better. And by better I mean much much worse.”

“Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer and decided he needed to come, and come hard. Oh, ok just jumping right to it, aren’t we, book? I’m just gonna skim ahead and…. Oh. Whelp, there it is. Didn’t even have to skim too far. I… never thought it would feel so good as I slid the rounded pommel into my cavern. It was like it was made for this I thought to myself, my cock agreed. My cock agreed? Oh my gods. You were right, this is amazing.”

Averyll chuckled but Astarion had gone quiet. “Astarion?” Still no answer. Did he fall into trance while Averyll was reading? Gods that’s adorable. He closed the book and set it aside, letting his arms encircle Astarion as his own eyes slid closed.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanart #baldurs gate 3 fanart #tavstarion #tav x astarion #averyll x astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #my commissions #poofroom #peridots and rubies #meowchirp

575 notes · View notes

loganlermanstanaccount · 8 months

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 9)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 8, Part 10

summary: You both come to a realisation.

warnings: smut! f! masturbation, grinding, humping, fingering, (implied) recreational drug use, alcohol, dubcon (-ish! reader is drunk but the interaction is consensual, tagging just in case xx), teeny tiny bit of mutual pining. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: yuhh

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 7.2k

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

all that light lost in gaps

You're gone, in the morning.

…he should've expected it. Miguel stumbles out of sleep, groggy and disoriented. He finds himself reaching out for something in the half-light.

He finds himself reaching for you. And when you're not there, leaving a person sized gap at the crook of his arm, his stomach churns. He pretends it's not disappointment, or the sharp crack of yearning ; settling at his chest like a crowbar, and prying open his ribs. It's worry, he decides resolutely, a perfectly normal, healthy amount of worry. As your roommate; and nothing else, he keeps reminding himself; he's just worried about where you've rushed off to, especially after yesterday.

Senior year. He was assigned a bullshit paper in a Civics class – one he'd usually half-ass for an easy A. He'd wax poetic about morality – amorphous, vague platitudes about duty and societal expectations. By the end of the year, he had it down to a science: a couple thousand words remixed and plucked from lesser known philosophers, videos online, and overdue library books. Either he was getting too good at it, or his teacher was too stupid to notice; but regardless, he coasted through the class right up until graduation. His last paper, and he remembers it distinctly, was on the book of the same name; aptly titled What We Owe Each Other. A plodding, pluralistic read; of which he had only scanned through, anyways. Extra credit, anything to graduate early, and he'd had more than enough on his plate at the time.

And so, he wasn't expecting the B+ underlined and circled in red ink on the front page. It felt like his teacher had handed it back to him face down, slammed onto the desk like the thunderous crack of a whip. And he didn't need that A, strictly speaking. Yet, he had found himself staying over after class, crinkling that piece of paper in hand as he'd asked why.

She sighs. Miss Hunter's glasses slip down her nose, as they are prone to do.

"You're an outstanding student. I hear you're graduating early, and you're off somewhere prestigious in the fall. This is… definitely not a bad grade, and it's nothing, I promise you."

It doesn't work like that, for him. His teacher doesn't get it, but it will eat him up inside-out if he's not able to understand.

"Was it my referencing?" He fumbles with the strap of his bag.

"No. Not at all–"

"I did the extra reading…the article you mentioned in class, and–"

He's cut off by the scrape of a desk chair. Miss Hunter gets up to close the door, before settling on her desk.

Arms crossed, she seems tired. Worried, maybe, but it doesn't register with Miguel. The thought doesn't even cross his mind, that there are others with the capacity to worry about him.

"Technically, it's well written. As usual, Miguel." She gives him a weak smile. "It just… lacked heart."

His brows jump up. "...heart?"

"There's not really a narrative voice, here."

He taps at the paper on the desk, frustrated. "You didn't ask for a narrative voice, though. You didn't ask for… for heart. I read the book, I did the extra reading, and I wrote a report. That was the brief."

"Not quite." She says it gently, but it still sounds like nails on a chalkboard to him. "The brief was vague, intentionally so. 'What Do We Owe Each Other? Discuss.' I gave examples, sure: excerpts from the book we touched on in class, articles, academic papers, etcetera. They were… suggestions."

"...suggestions." He's incredulous.

She nods. "You followed it to the letter, Miguel. You gave me a summary, with a few key links. Fully referenced, yes. Well-written, yes. But this feels like a sum of parts. It doesn't tell me anything about you; your perspective, your angle. Your voice."

He's biting back choice words. It sounds like bullshit to him, for lack of a better word. Flowery, hoity-toity BS; served up to him on a steaming platter. That's it?

Maybe it shows on his face, because she's asking, as delicately as possible,

"Is everything okay?"

Instinctually, he seizes up.

"Yeah. Yes. I'm good."

"I know you don't take this class as seriously because it's not an AP, or an elective, or maybe not as challenging as you need it to be. And that's okay, Miguel. I'm happy for you to use my class as a break from all the other stuff." She swallows thickly. "You're not from our usual feeder schools. The Academy is particularly rigorous. But considering your… situation, we can make exceptions. If there's anything I can do–"

"There isn't a 'situation'."

"Right. Of course, I'm sorry. But if you need a couple days off of school because of…" She pasues, saying the next part softly. "Because of the baby… I mean, you're already acing my class–"

"No." He says it firmly, eyes trained onto the wood grain peeking out from underneath piles of documents. He wants to ask how she knows, and how he's always the last to find out that rumours have spread, and–

"Miguel." Her voice cuts through dense fog. She repeats her previous statement. “If there's anything I can do–”

“If you want to help, you can give me that A.” It's bone dry, said with the kind of sarcasm he's grown accustomed to. He wears it over his shoulders, sometimes; draped to keep out biting cold, or unfamiliar warmth from a stranger - it all feels the same, now.

She gives him a rueful smile. “Need more than that, m'afraid.”

Heart. Voice. What We Owe Each Other – and he doesn't know why that phrase sticks in his throat. It's been drilled into him since childhood; family and community, helping each other out of the starting blocks; and beaten out of him during adolescence. The creaking and cracking of bones after each step, where out in the world it's a different matter entirely.

His mama has bad taste in men, and he finds himself picking up the pieces. Gabi is more sensitive than he'll ever admit, trying not to cry amongst broken plates and chicken-wire hidden in a bouquet of peonies: prickly words that cut and hack, and it's Miguel that wipes the tears from his brother's cheek. That devastatingly gentle sigh when he had told his mama what he had done - how he had fallen for a soft bed and even softer lips at the ripe age of 16 and a half - and Miguel carries that weight. What We Owe Each Other – and he's only ever fed entitled egos. Not his family, of course, but he's been burned. He's had more than his fair share of it.

He doesn't owe the world shit, he thinks.

He doesn't owe you shit.

It doesn't help that he's been stuck in place, grasping at cushion covers and a raggedy blanket. Trying not to drown in the heady scent of you, he's been dragging thick fingers over the fabric as if in a trance. You don't owe him anything, either. Nary an apology, an explanation; so much as a sorry spilling from pretty lips in that way where they quiver like a gentle flame.

He's touched them, felt them drag across his skin like the finest silk, and dropped to his knees in search of something you've never given him. It doesn't matter if you don't; kiss him , that is; the swirling, desperate sort that leaves him heaving and creaking and begging for more. He thinks he'd still scuff up the denim at his knees if you asked, regardless - he'd do anything , if it was for you.

It's not realistic to expect anything from you. You don't need to tell him where you've gone or why you've left so early. You don't need to, and yet he finds himself reaching for his phone.

Miguel sends a well placed message; deft fingers tapping away at the screen. Before he changes his mind, it's sent; and he's chewing his lip whilst waiting for a steady three dots. Lyla is slower than usual, but she comes through. She doesn't ask questions - because she knows him better than he knows himself - and gives him a thumbs up.

They'll call each other later, that much he's sure of, but for now he reads between the lines. Short bursts of text, like firecrackers flashing across a night sky, and only through nonsensical emojis and odd slang can they understand each other.

This part, he can do. And he'll do whatever he needs to, not what he owes.

~~~

You make it to Pam's just after it opens.

At 7 o'clock sharp, you've made the journey; in an empty subway car, spilling out onto the streets like treacle left in the neck of a bottle. It's not quite a squeeze, passing by only a handful of people, with nothing but a jacket thrown over last night's clothes. In a daze, you realise too late: it's Miguel's. A dusty, worn thing; brown leather crackling at the sleeves and heavy on your shoulders. It feels like a hug, and it feels like him : warm and stiff. It smells like him too, and you bury your nose in the collar on the subway, sleeves kissing your palm like his hand is in yours.

It's a feeling that takes you all the way to the doors: past the slats bolted shut and down a familiar alley. You push past them, sneakers on slick tiles, and give a weak smile to the woman that perks up from behind the counter, kicking away the mop and bucket.

"Hiya, welcome to Pam's! How can I–"

"Oh, God , no." You wave her off. "Take your time. I need a minute, if that's okay."

Settling on the barstool, you watch as the young woman smiles, picking up a rag and wiping at the counter. You sit in it, for a while.

Dregs drip in through the front. The bell at the top of the door chimes, tinny and cheerful in the relative gloom of a quiet morning.

It's cold , outside. Autumn, biting at your fingers and nose. Eventually you opt for a coffee, piping hot to stave off that chill. Bitter, the aftertaste lingers at the back of your throat. You find yourself picking at the chipped mug, chasing away that taste with fluffy pancakes. The combination doesn't feel quite the same – not after many a morning with your roommate.

You settle into the seat. You wrap that old jacket around you. You sip at tart coffee and pick at your nails. A quiet morning, one to yourself, one to keep hidden at the crook of your chest. Some semblance of peace , wrapped up in the spindles of a dandelion. That is to say; delicate and fleeting, whipped away by the breeze.

You've decided not to think too hard about it. That kind of thinking ends dangerously, you've realised: with long, hot nights spent tossing and turning. It ends with a head full of cotton, and a pounding at your chest. With blood, with tears, with a stranger in your bed. And so, you go for the cleaner option. The safer one, all things considered, that's less likely to end in a broken heart.

You float around for a while. Walking without a real destination, trying to ground yourself. Eventually, you end up home, opening the door to an empty apartment. There's no traces left of a night spent in Miguel's arms. Good, you think, slipping your shoes off at the door. It doesn't feel good , but if you say it enough times you just might believe it.

The cleaner option; the one with less gristle and bone; is a familiar one. You settle into a shower; steamy and soapy, taking your time to clean out the blood from under your fingernails. The grime, the dirt ; you watch it swirl into the drain, hands running across soft flesh. You try to do it like Jamie did, once upon a time. It doesn't feel right, and has you leaning onto the cool tile. The shower head sputters, a shaky pressure on your back but you lean into it and close your eyes. You rub a hand at the crook of your chest, and then down, down, down, circling your breast and then following the curve of hips to the apex of your legs. Tipping your head, letting the hot water stream through your hair and then your back; and you touch, feel , and you can almost taste him ; sweet and saccharine Miguel, at your lips.

With two fingers flat against your clit, you rub little circles at the nub, dipping into your hole for much needed wetness. Your other hand travels up soft skin, pads of your fingers grazing collarbone, and then they curl around your neck. With a little pressure, your thumb grazes your jaw. Like he does, except your hands aren't as deliciously rough or as large. You slip a finger in, and then two, water pounding your back and eyes screwed. You push past that initial tightness, searching for a little give. When it comes, cunt clenching around your fingers, just shy of that sweet spot as you press your clit with the heel of your palm; you're imagining it's your roommate. He'd wrap those thick forearms around you, press his cock to the crest of your back and touch you like you deserve.

You do it like Miguel would, reverent , touching you as if you were clay at a potter's wheel. In the hands of God herself, you cum; falling, falling, falling; tumbling down white water rapids and spit back up into the rushing water. You're panting, now, out of breath.

When you sink onto your bed, you realise it's not quite enough. Still in a fluffy robe, steam curls from your skin like clouds – ones that smell of cheap body wash and shampoo. Before you know it, you're reaching for your phone, sending two quick messages to a certain somebody.

[Sent: 15:32]

hey mig

[Sent: 15:32]

where did u go?

You don't expect a quick reply - he's never been much of a texter. But those three dots pop up in no time at all, much to your surprise.

[Received: 15:33]

Out.

[Received: 15:33]

Running errands.

It's succinct and to the point – of which you expect nothing else from Miguel. Your thumbs fly to the screen to reply but another message tugs the rug out from under your shaky legs.

[Received: 15:35]

Is everything okay?

[Sent: 15:35]

yeah

[Sent: 15:36]

all good

When that provides no response, you're left chewing on your lip, anxious. He's seen the message, he's read the message; but for some reason, several minutes go by and there's no response.

You're ready to give up and chalk it to your roommate's hot-and-cold nature, when your phone rings.

Immediately, you pick up.

" Don't believe you." His voice rings out, tinny, nestled amongst the covers.

"Hey, Mig." You settle down on the bed, putting him on speaker and placing it by your ears.

" Did you hear what I said?" His tone is deep and intense, making you shiver. It's not quite the same, of course, but you're reminded of nights spent with his lips tucked close the shell of your ear.

You swallow. "Yeah. I… I did."

" You sure? Because you suck at lying."

"Don't be an asshole."

" Think I get a free pass when you disappear for the whole day."

You roll your eyes. “You didn't call–”

“ Would you have answered?”

Ouch. He sounds frustrated, the quiet chatter of his background bathed in heavy silence. Silence thick with tension, and you almost choke on it.

He breaks it with a heavy sigh. “ You okay? ”

“No. Not really.”

“ Okay. ” He lets it sit for a while, before saying, “ I'll be home, soon. There's leftovers in the fridge, and you should eat, sweetheart. You want anything from the store? ”

His voice is so, so soft. It crackles like kindling on a fire: warmth that blooms and spreads to your chest. Like slipping off frozen gloves to thaw off in front of a heater, and he just makes you feel impossibly warm.

“Not really, thanks.” You mumble it, and hear a satisfied grunt from the other end. Before you change your mind, you say, “Sorry. M'sorry.”

Miguel gives a light chuckle and you think you can hear him smile, the kind you always chase after a stupid argument: one that tugs at the corners of his pretty lips.

“ You've got nothin' to be sorry about .”

He gives you a moment to feel the weight of his words, and ends the call. That heat at your chest blooms.

If Miguel O'Hara is the Sun, then maybe you don't mind being pulled into his orbit; bathing in steady light and warmth.

~~~

He comes home with flowers. A beautiful bouquet; delicate and balanced, featherlight wildflowers and brush, interspersed with sprays of blue and purple and pink. It's wonderfully dense, reminding you of the tangles of colour a child might decorate a picture with in wobbly crayon. Simply put, it's nothing short of a vision, and you notice how delicately he places it on the dining table.

With the rest of the grocery bags, Miguel clatters in, and you can't help but be curious. You're poking through the bags, sitting on the counter as he puts them away – after offering to help, of course, but he bats you away easily. Your bare legs bristle in the chill brought on by the window cracked open, and he just breezes past.

The cabinet opens with a thud , and your roommate busies himself with putting away food. Carefully, you watch the way the muscles of his back flexes this way and that - cut and lean under that thin sweater. He’s otherwise occupied, and so you take the opportunity to stare, playing with a loose string at the hem of silky shorts. And so, it makes you jump when your phone buzzes beside you. Innocuously, you glance at the notification, and your eyes go wide.

“Who’s that?” Miguel asks, voice light. With that freaky sixth sense of his, he doesn’t need to turn around to know, it seems.

“Lyla.” You murmur, reading the rest of the message.

“ ...And? ”

“Uh. Well…” Blinking, you can’t quite believe what she’s asking. “ Girl’s Night . I-I mean… she’s asking me to come with her for a Girl’s Night.”

“Really?” His tone is surprising, and you can hear how he beams by its lilting nature. Maybe he’s laughing at you, maybe he’s not, but you snap back regardless.

“ ... don’t act so surprised.”

“ You sound surprised.” He laughs.

“It’s different when I do it.” You say simply. “I just… I didn’t expect it. I didn’t even know we were close enough to–”

“Bullshit. You text her all the time.”

“A couple of times, Mig.” You correct him, trying to pin down a suitable response to give Lyla. You draw a blank. “I don’t want her to feel like she has to, or anything.”

He turns around, sleeves still rolled up. The look he gives makes you wither: one that could say about a million things. You think it means cut the crap , but he could just be constipated: you haven't quite mastered the art of reading Miguel O’Hara.

“Do you want to go?” He gets closer, hand flat on the counter next to your thigh.

You nod, and his hand creeps up and up.

Giving you a little smile, he shrugs. “Then go.”

It makes you shy. Bashful , even; and you’re wriggling as he squeezes the flesh. A hand on his forearm, and he’s close; so much so that all you can feel is the press of skin, and feel gentle breath fluttering past your cheek. You’re stuck underneath the gaze of his pretty lashes, and entranced at the way he licks his even prettier lips. A sudden thought seizes you - so heavy it makes your chest tight and leaden.

Oh. You want to kiss him.

In a moment, it’s gone. A broad palm nudges your thigh aside, and you’re shifting so he can reach the drawers just by your legs. You oblige, falling back into familiar routine.

Life moves on. Like Miguel said it would, and you find yourself entwined with the idea of time passing. Lying awake each night, picking out sand from underneath your fingernails, after clawing your way out of the hourglass. Steady, slow dregs; and it's tipped over each morning, restarting the clock.

The flowers disappear from the dining table. Miguel retreats into the folds and dark corners of your apartment; you see him less and less. Passing ships in the night, you seem to miss each other by a fraction of a second. All of a sudden he's busy , and all of a sudden you're swamped with work. You only see each other at night, looking out for the bits and pieces left as proof of life: sometimes he'll leave a hot flask out for you in the mornings, and you'll greet him with a cheesy soap in the evenings. If he's not leaving later and later after work, that is.

He looks tired, you note. Exhausted; prone to little yawns as you turn to him every now and then whilst watching on the couch. It's sweet, the way his frown has made way to a dopey smile, but it's frayed at the edges, tinged with something you can't quite place. You let him sleep that night, bringing pillows to lay his head on, and wrapping him up in that old blanket.

Girl's night creeps up on you. It shakes you by the shoulders when you collapse on the sofa after a long day – and you're rushing to get ready. There's no Miguel to make sly remarks or prod you into action, this time. You wonder what he'd say about what you're wearing; a leftover dress buried in boxes from your ex's apartment.

Short, tight, snug; it has you feeling glamorous – but you hope it doesn't look as fanciful as it feels. Too much; yet again, you're worried about being too much. Even though you're running a little late, you take the time to carefully apply makeup; something shiny on your lids, a dab of blush, and gloss slathered onto your lips. When you sling on little heels, and snatch a petite bag from the hooks near the door, there's barely enough time to catch that last glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Down and out you go, into a dusky night.

~~~

“I had to go through her manager– and wait, can you believe this girl has a fucking manager, now?” Lyla bats at MJ's shoulder, and the redhead laughs good-naturedly.

“It's not– she's exaggerating! My manager's just my mom, I swear.”

“It's a good thing, no?” You smile, taking a healthy swig of a brightly coloured cocktail.

“It means she is booked, and–” Lyla hiccups, raising an unsteady glass that threatens to tip. MJ straightens her elbow instinctually, before raising her own. “ – very busy .”

It's your turn to laugh, glass held high in the air. With a clink , there's a clash of crystal that's all but drowned out by the chatter in the upscale bar.

Somewhere fancy, courtesy of Lyla. One of those places that serves tiny portions in big, empty plates, a fusion of cultural food with white, upper class owners. No-doubt the result of summering somewhere in the ever-broad global South , Lyla had said slyly, under the lip of a menu.

There's powdered sugar on the rim of your flute. It dissolves on your tongue. You down the rest. Sickly sweet, and you wipe what drips onto your lips.

It has you checking your phone. Miguel hasn't called, not that you were expecting anything. Whilst Lyla and MJ talk, you scroll mindlessly through his chat; a smattering of one word answers. Missed calls. Unanswered messages.

" –what about you, babe?"

Your eyes snap back up to meet Lyla's, expectant.

"Uhhh…"

"Nevermind." Sharp eyes travel to your phone, and there's a flash of recognition. "Miggy said you're in school. He said you're gonna graduate early, this year."

"He said that?" You're confused. "I mean… I'm trying but it's not looking like that, right now."

She wags a finger, shaking her head like she's trying to remember something. "No, no, he seemed adamant. Said you're working hard, doing well."

"Doing better ." You correct her, shyly.

" Bullshit. " She says it the way Miguel does, and it makes you laugh. You see it now; he's the product of the people he loves. A kind of Frankenstein's monster, he's stitched together those bits and pieces; he's made himself beautiful. You wonder what piece of you he carries. If he even holds you that close to his chest.

"I bet you're doing amazing. " MJ finishes. Her smile is warm, and copper-coloured; it feels hazy and ambered in your little corner. "Better than me, anyways. I would rather die than go back to college."

"Back?" You ask.

"Oh, of course! You don't know." She giggles, leaning in like she's about to say something scandalous - the drink is clearly doing its job. Her next words are an exaggerated stage whisper. "I dropped out."

" Seriously? " You play along, with faux shock.

"...damn right she did." Lyla gives a drunken wave to a nearby waiter, asking for another glass of wine. Something expensive, she whispers, giving a deceptive smile.

"It just wasn't for me, I guess. I went because everyone around me was going, even Pete. Uhh, English Lit, or something. And it didn't… I–I mean it just wasn't–"

"It didn't click."

" Right!" She snaps her fingers. "It was too much. I didn't know what I was doing, I was 18, for God's sake. Think I stuck at it for a bit too long, honestly."

"...and the world didn't explode." You breathe.

MJ answers with a knowing nod. She chugs the rest of a crisp Mojito, raising the empty glass once more.

"To doing better ."

You're quick to follow. "To doing better."

Lyla frowns, looking for a glass that's tucked into the corner. The room must be spinning already, with the way she pats around for it. You nudge it towards her with an elbow, and she's raucous; crumpling into a fit of giggles.

One drink turns to two, two turns to three, and then four ; until you're ready to spill out onto the busy strip. When the waiter places a slip of paper into the centre, one with so many zeroes it makes your eyes bulge, you don't even have to pretend to reach for your wallet. Gleefully, Lyla picks up the bill, sliding a shiny Amex card onto the dish.

She's generous, you note, as she buys a bottle of wine to go when MJ picks up her bag. She's perceptive, too. You see it when MJ wrings her hands, still tipsy and stuttering in her heels as you pile onto the street. She's making apologies already - I've got an early start and need to see my May - but Lyla intercepts. There's the gentle clink of a bottle thrust into her hands, something expensive, and she kisses the apples of her cheeks before sending her off in a taxi.

Her own cheeks are ruddy, rosy with drink and she splits into a wide smile. The back of her hand comes up to your neck. Warm , she whispers, before linking arms with you like a schoolgirl off to do something they shouldn't.

Eventually, with shaky legs, you end up in a nightclub. She knows someone who knows someone, apparently, and you're ushered into a packed place just off 76th. Lights and pounding music, a flurry of limbs; you let the crowd take you in. If this is what it means to be a part of a whole; some writhing, heaving beast, to be more than your hand in someone else's and theirs in yours; then you could live here forever, you think. Forever, for the night, for the next ten minutes; you blink , and time passes.

You're having fun, you think. Letting the blood rush to your head, hips swaying to the music and you don't push away the quiet snap of a phone camera, nor it's red recording light. Dancing, singing, many seem to be pulled into orbit around you. This is how it works , pushed into an ebb and flow of people held together by broken lyrics and a thumping bassline. You let it wash over you, all-consuming, dragging yourself into murky depths.

You're in a booth, now, anchored by a dainty hand around your wrist. Pupils blown, she cups your face to inspect you, to figure out where you've gone. Someone's bought you a drink, there's a stranger's arm around your shoulders, but Lyla pushes them both away. Too much? It's a question, of which you shake your head firmly - lolling and with a distinct lack of fine motor skills - no. Not enough.

You blink. Bitter liquor hits your throat, and you chase the taste of somebody else's lips. A stranger, and even under the influence you know it doesn't feel right. Bile rises, and you're gone, clamping onto your stomach and trying not to hurl.

You blink. You're on the sidewalk, with a heavy head on someone's shoulder. The strap of your heels dig into your ankles and you fumble with it, trying to stop the road from spinning. Lyla holds you up, not much more up to task than you are.

A car pulls up, and at first you don't recognise it; entranced by shiny rims coming to a stop. You look up, still buried in Lyla's thick jacket; and you see it. You see him.

Miguel's wearing glasses. That's the first thing you notice, stumbling to your feet. Immediately, your face cracks into a dopey smile, leaning onto the lip of the open window. He gives you a once over, swallowing thickly, brows drawn.

Quiet chatter flys straight over your head. Lyla arguing, Miguel wagging a finger at her; but all you can see is him. It's like you've got blinkers on, tunnel vision making you focus on the curve of cheekbone, and the way his eyes scrunch up around black rims and glass.

You clamber into the backseat.

“Get in, Ly.”

The other woman seems resolute. “ M'not –”

“Did you take something?”

“Fuck you.” Flashing a middle finger, she wraps up her coat like a robe, walking away down the road.

He's adamant, driving up next to her. You keep your head on the glass where it's cool.

“Let me take you home. Please. ”

Frowning, she stops. When he leans over to open the passenger's side, she slips off her boots, and sidles in.

Their voices feel like a blur. You can barely register, only picking up half of the words hissed under their breath.

“... I called you, you can't give me a lecture…”

“...not fair, Lyla…. can't keep babysitting…”

“... fucking hypocrite… not the only one… I'm going through some shit…”

“...too far…. always taking it too…”

He drops her off outside of the apartment. From the backseat, you're sobering up; able to catch his heavy sigh as he watches her through the window. It's only when he sees her walk in does he turn to you, passing bottled water kept in the console.

“You want to come out to the front?”

You like the way he says it, for some reason. Any anger or frustration he had towards Lyla dissipates. He doesn't bring that into a quiet conversation with you.

He's too solemn, too serious, and so you clamber into the front over the console; limbs and legs everywhere, as obnoxiously as you can. A slight elbow to his chest, a hand clutching his shirt; you want to make him laugh. As you settle onto the seat, you see it: huffing dramatically, he gives you a small smile.

Miguel reverses back out onto the road.

You blink, and you're home. Legs still shaky, he helps you up the stairs, settling you onto the sofa. Car keys clink onto the dish by the door, and he slips off his coat – that brown one, your favourite, you think.

Fumbling with the strap of your heels, it must be too painful for him to watch as Miguel settles by your feet. His big, strong hands are surprisingly deft when he undoes the dainty buckle.

“Are you mad at me?” Meekishly, you watch and he shakes his head, not making eye-contact. Maybe it's the alcohol, but you're staring; looking for that light in his eyes amongst the dark room.

Now, he looks up. “What?”

“M'just looking.” You say, chewing the inside of your cheek as one shoe slips off. “ I'm not allowed to look?”

The other one comes off, and he hisses when he spots a little cut where the strap dug into your ankle. He can't help it, rolling it gently in his hands, trying to ease the pain with a massage.

“You wear glasses.” You say it softly, more to yourself than to anyone else. Giggling now, you cradle his face and he sits up. “I didn't know that.”

“ That's not – I've always worn glasses. You're just not paying attention.” He shrugs lazily, but he's smiling.

“Not true , Mig. I would've noticed.”

“You're drunk–”

“When it's you, I always pay attention.” Absent-mindedly, your hand curls into his hair. He keens . “Like… your hair's getting longer.”

Gently, he shakes out of your grip, getting up. “I know, I know. I need a haircut.”

“I like it.” Starry-eyed, you look up at him. “You're so pretty, Mig.”

It makes him heave. Still tipsy, your legs spread ever so slightly, hand taking his and pulling him closer. Placing his hand on your thigh, you let it trace up, up, up, catching at the hem of your short dress.

He practically caves in, collapsing next to you on the couch.

“You should–” His eyes are glassy as you ease yourself onto his lap. “ F-Fuck . You should go to bed, sweetheart.”

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you roll your hips, watching as he groans wantonly.

“But I'm not tired.” His hand ends up on your waist, applying just the right amount of pressure. Underneath, you can feel him stir, increasingly hard under loose sweats. “And you haven't touched me in weeks. ”

You're exaggerating, but it goes to his head anyway. He buries his head into the crook of your shoulder, whispering into the bare skin.

“I know, I know…”

“Just the tip, Miguel.” You're grinding your clit onto him, pussy barely covered by a thin thong. Whispered into the shell of his ear, you're a siren, honeyed words dangerously close to breaking him down. “Just the tip, and I promise , I'll let it go. Please , baby.”

Your dress rides up, and his hands come down to palm at your ass.

“ Please…” You're pleading, lips on his neck as he squeezes, forcing you down to hump directly over his cock.

“Oh, shit.” His hips jump once, twice; and then he stills, hands at your hips and ass to stop you.

Desperate, you whine, trying to fight against it. He doesn't let up, hand cradling your chin so you can look him in the eye.

“ Bed .” He says, shakily. “Not like this.”

He slips you off, noticeably adjusting his pants. Legs spread wide, head tipped back as he sighs; he looks delicious , and you're fighting off the urge to let him take you right there and then.

You stumble through the little hallway, pushing past some doors. Something clatters into your thigh, and you hear a dull thud as another thing falls to the floor. Frustrated, you strip down to your underwear, something light and lacy and it leaves very little to the imagination.

There's a bed, and you collapse on it; swimming in the silky sheets. It smells like him - musky and oaky and gentle - and you think you must be dreaming already. And then, you sit up, realising too late - this isn't your room.

Miguel wasn't too far off, hearing the thumping and clattering; hesitant as he opens the door. You're wrapped up like a present, spilling out of lingerie on his bed. He swallows, turning away to dig into his wardrobe, intending to pull out a baggy shirt for you.

“ Miguel .” You croak, but he ignores the want in your voice, so heavy it goes straight to his cock. “Miguel, please. ”

All his shirts blend together. He can't concentrate.

“Do you think I don't want it? Because I do, fuck, I need it. So bad, baby, please.” Your body heaves with a half sob.

Heart splintering, he turns. Finally, you meet his eye. You spread your legs.

“ Here. Right here .” You tap your clothed cunt with shaky fingers, pulling your thong to the side. His eyes drink it up, the way you glisten when your cunt eats up the fabric. You know he's watching, and you take advantage of it, circling your clit with the pads of two fingers. “Like this . When I touch myself, I think of you… d-did you know that?”

Swallowing roughly, he can't take his eyes off of you.

“What… What else?” He croaks.

“I think of your tongue, a-at my pussy. And your fingers… God. ” You slip a finger in, and he watches as your cunt clenches around it; gushing and sloppy. “Your l-lips. Meant it, before. When I said you were pretty. Want to sit on that pretty face and watch you melt– oh-h- fuck- ”

He wants to lick it up, all that slick that sluices from your hole. His mouth waters, just thinking about it.

“Put another one in, for me.” He says it low, sinking to his knees to watch you fuck yourself.

Nodding, you oblige.

“Does it feel good?”

“ Yes. ” You don't hesitate.

“Can you fit another one? Want to see how good she looks when she comes, sweetheart.”

Three fingers in, now, and he slides your thong a little further aside; reaching up to press his thumb to your clit. Light streams in from blinds cracked open and highlights your thighs perfectly. Nevertheless, he adjusts his glasses to make sure he doesn't miss anything.

The twitch of your leg, the way your hand cramps up, the way your lips curl into a delicious O - he sees it all, commits it to memory.

“ Faster , please.”

“ Doesn't –” You're frustrated, clearly chasing something that refuses to surface. “Not the same. Can't fucking reach. ”

He titters, nipping at your thighs and soothing the bites with the flat of his tongue.

“Poor baby. Will you let me help?”

Fervently, you nod, slipping out your fingers as he takes off his glasses. They're discarded, too foggy to be useful right now.

“Did I tell you to take them out?” He sighs and gestures for your hand. Wrapping his lips around them he sucks them clean, humming lightly. He pats your clit with a wet slap, content. “Put two fingers in, sweetheart.”

Doing as he says, your head feels full - cotton wool and bubble wrap, only able to focus on the pleasure building behind your clit. And when he slots two fingers in next to yours , it rips out a gravelly moan.

“ Here? ” He says dragging himself deeper, curling his fingers up. “Or is it… here? ”

You groan, limp against his hand as you feel impossibly full. It reminds you of the stretch of his cock; creaming around the base of his two fingers and yours. That wonderful curl as he pumps himself in and out, cupping your hand in the process to make sure you match his pace. He can feel your walls spasm around him, impossibly soft and velveteen.

“Can't say no to you,” His eyes are low, grunting as he palms himself roughly. “Even though… fuck … even though I should.”

It's wet, the slap slap slap of skin against skin echoing in his room. Miguel sits up, pressing his lips to your neck, and you take the opportunity to slip your other hand into his sweats. You start pumping, in time with his ministrations, eyes blown as you swipe your thumb over his weeping slit.

You know he likes it rough, and you jerk him into your palm; fast and hard and you watch as he matches your pace. Even now, you're competing, trying to catch the him up; to see who can make the other cum first.

You push back on his fingers, hips slotting against his, whispering nonsense into his neck. You're too fucked out to care; confessions you never thought would see the light of day. All the little things you like about him, things he says, things he does; and you don't even register the ochred flush smattered along the ridge of cheekbone.

He spills into your hand, and you're quick to follow; cumming around him as his fingers stutter in and out. It feels good , dangerously so, and has you pressing shaky kisses around his mouth, and nipping at his bottom lip.

He stills, but you're greedy, aching for more. You want him in you; seating his thick cock deep inside, painting your walls with hot cum, and pushing it back in with deft fingers. Every part of you is on fire, barely satiated by your heated foray.

You tip back onto the bed, and he joins you; caging you in with thick forearms, looking at you like you've stolen all the stars in the sky. That feeling , again, slams into your chest like a bullet. Messy hair, ruddy cheeks, hand gently tracing your jaw; he looks gone, and oh so soft. You want to kiss him ; and it's a thought that sticks, embedding itself somewhere you can't reach to dig it out.

“ Miguel .” You whisper, enough alcohol at the edges of your mind to stop thinking and spill your guts to him, unfiltered. “Are you sleeping with someone else?”

His eyes flit over your face before answering and he shakes his head.

“No. No. Just you. Only you.”

“ Don't believe you .” But you want to. So, so desperately. “Promise me?”

“I promise, sweetheart.” He swallows. “Are you?”

“No. Don't think I could if I tried.” It comes out watery, stuck at the back of your throat.

He just looks, for a moment, cradling the back of your head.

“I want to kiss you.” It spills out from your lips.

“I know.”

“Then why won't you kiss me?”

“Not a good idea.” He strains, kissing your forehead, and then each cheek. Hesitating, he places a gentle peck to your chin. “Ask me tomorrow.”

He says it simply, too easily; and it makes you want to sob. When Miguel slips away, and you hear the sound of a light turned on in the bathroom, you can't move. Catatonic; you blink, and he's cleaned you up, and slipped a shirt over your shoulders. Laying back in his bed, you watch as he lingers by the doorway, shrouded in shadow.

Goodnight. Y ou think you say it out loud, but it echoes in your head.

He says back, but not really. Instead, he leaves that goodnight hanging by the doorway like an old coat, and you wrap it over your shoulders.

It keeps you a little warmer through the night.

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook @sonderspider @spear-bitch @cryingintheclubdhmu @mageneire @notdyl4n @slezhara @funkyfoxx0 @smol-beb @iceclaw101 @lixhizy @errorundyne-exe @707xn @beantokki@twentysomethingwereyote

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #rigor mortis 😼#miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #kat_writes😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #angst #heavy angst #mutual pining

808 notes · View notes

actuallysaiyan · 4 months

Note

BACONNNNNNN I HAVE A REQUESTTTTTTTTTTTT

can we get some choso and reader trying to fuck discreetly at a party? 🤭 them being caught or not is up to you 😘😉

warnings: alcohol, smoking weed, vaginal fingering, Choso is a little cocky but mostly cause he's scared to fuck shit up, college AU, unprotected sex, swearing word count: 1.8k pairings: Choso Kamo x Fem!Reader summary: you meet Choso at a party and something magical happens when the two of you decide to find a quiet room to hang out in.

The music is loud as you walk amongst the party-goers. You’ve been searching for someone in particular, but you haven’t seen him yet. He’s not much for parties, but he had assured you he’d be coming. Still, you were starting to have your doubts about this.

You grab a drink from the fridge, opening the can and sipping on its sweet contents. It’s one of those super popular mixed cocktails all the college kids are going crazy for lately. It’s a little too sweet for your taste, but it’s not bad right now. You’re a little buzzed and you know you need a bit more liquid courage if you were to see him.

You see a flash of dark brown hair and your heart skips a beat. There he is, Choso Kamo. The one you’ve been pining for all year long. The can shakes in your hands as you try to follow him, finding him heading out the backdoor to take in some fresh air. You know he doesn’t smoke, but enjoys the company of the smokers as they are all pretty decently chill.

You sink the contents of the can so fast, your stomach lurches as the alcohol splashes in your tummy. Then with shaky steps, you walk over to the backdoor. Without thinking twice, you exit the building and let the cool night air envelop you. It almost sobers you up as you feel yourself shivering. Choso smirks as he spots you, then he walks over to you to drape his sweater over your shoulders.

“It’s chilly out tonight,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

You giggle, “Yeah it is.”

You realize there’s hardly anyone else out here. Just a few stragglers trying to suck on their cancersticks in peace. Choso pulls something from his pocket and you smirk when you realize he’s brought a joint. Oh, so he does smoke…just not cigarettes.

“You smoke?” he asks, showing you the joint.

You nod your head, “A little.”

Your mouth goes dry as you watch him bring the joint to his lips. He looks hot even just doing something as simple as lighting a joint. He takes a few drags, his eyes drooping slightly as the weed takes its effect on him. Then he steps closer to you and passes the joint to you.

The conversation flows between you two comfortably. He asks about your classes and you complain about the amount of projects you have. Choso talks at great length about his own projects and the books he’s been reading. As you two chat and smoke the joint, you begin to realize just how much the two of you have in common.

It’s not long before he’s flicking the end of the cherry off the balcony. Then with a smirk on his face, he leans in a little closer. You feel his hot breath on your face and you feel need pooling in your lower tummy.

“Wanna find somewhere a little more private to continue this conversation?”

You should say no, and maybe tell him that you ought to go home for the night. But for the first time in so long, you were getting your chance with him. So in a low voice, you manage to agree to this. He takes your hand in his, leading you back into the party. Everyone is already so drunk and high, and the people dancing are almost pulsing to the beat of the catchy hip hop song.

Choso keeps a tight grip on you so as not to lose you. He manages to maneuver through the drunkards and ditzy girls. At the end of one of the hallways, Choso pulls you into one of the empty bedrooms. He closes the door behind you and then guides you to sit on the bed.

He takes a flask from his sweater pocket, the sweater you’re still wearing, and he opens it up and takes a swig. He passes it to you, a mischievous grin on his face. You take the flask from him and take a swig. It’s some very strong gin, which makes you cough and gag.

“Heh, yeah that’s some strong stuff.”

You shudder slightly when his big hand comes up to rub your back soothingly. Then his hand slides down your arm, only to go right back up so he can cup your cheek.

“You’re so pretty, ya know that?”

His words almost sound foreign to you. You have to think it over in your mind over and over again before his chuckle pulls you out of the funk. Then he just leans in and closes the gap between you two.

His lips are chapped but they feel so good against your own. You find some courage and you begin leaning into this kiss. His hands feel so good on your face as he cups your cheeks. You can’t help the moan that escapes you when his tongue slides into your mouth.

Just as you’re about to deepen the kiss, you hear some knocking on the door. Then a head pokes in, but the moment they see you and Choso, they close the door. There is some laughter, but you know it has to do more with them being embarrassed than you.

“Don’t pay them any mind,” Choso says as he helps you lay down on the bed. “Just focus on me.”

You don’t know what else to say, so you just nod your head and swallow your saliva. Choso smirks again before diving down to kiss you. This kiss is a bit hungrier and it’s paired with one of his hands caressing your body. He doesn’t linger on one spot for too long before moving onto the next.

You’re thinking he’s being coy about this when his hand shoves down your pants. You gasp into the kiss as his long fingers brush against your clothed cunt. Choso loves the sounds you make as he begins rubbing your swollen nub. Your panties begin clinging to your folds as he stimulates you even more.

“You like that, huh? I always thought you’d be into this sort of thing.”

His words do all kinds of things to you. Your mind is a mess as he continues playing with your panty-clad pussy. Then it gets even more intense as he pushes your panties aside. You moan his name when one of his fingers slides into you.

“Shhh…you gotta be a little more quiet than that, sweetheart.”

Choso isn’t quite sure where all this confidence is coming from, but he’s so glad he’s not completely fumbling. It must have something to do with the alcohol and weed he smoked. He’s thanking his lucky stars you’re into him just as much as he’s into you.

He pumps another one of his fingers into you to join the other, leaving you breathless and grasping the sheets below you. You throw your head back as his thumb comes up to rub your clit, making you drip all over his hand.

“How about we take this a little further, huh?”

His breath smells like gin and weed, and in that moment, it’s the most sexy thing you’ve ever experienced. You nod your head dumbly, your eyes rolling back with every pump of his fingers.

“Nah, you gotta say it. Say the words, baby.”

You swallow hard again, and try to think of the right words to say. It was becoming increasingly harder and harder as he continued to finger you. His long fingers curling to press against that spongy spot deep inside you that made you see stars.

“Fuck me, Cho. Please Cho…”

His cock throbs when you beg and you say his name so sweetly like that. It was going to be hard to resist you if you were going to be this cute every time he would fuck you. Choso knows not to push his luck, but he knows he’ll take the chance again if need be.

He’s quick to pull your pants and panties down. His mouth widens as he sees your cute little pussy on display. As much as he wants to taste you, he knows he’s got not enough time for this. He spreads your legs and then he’s pushing down his own pants past his ass.

“Ready for me?” Choso asks in a teasing tone, rubbing the head of his cock all over your soaked folds.

“Please, don’t tease me. I’m ready.”

With one long thrust, he’s balls deep inside of you. He thinks for a split second that he probably should have put on a condom, but you don’t seem to have any problems with him going in raw. His hips snap fast and hard from the get go, leaving you breathless. You cling to him as the pleasure builds so fast.

“Fuck, you’ve got the best little pussy, ya know that?”

His face is buried in the crook of your neck as he tries to quiet himself. You’re both moaning and whimpering, doing all you can to not draw too much attention to yourselves. The pleasure just feels so good. Choso can’t believe your little cunt is gripping him quite like this. It’s so tight and warm, he can’t help but pound you into the mattress.

“Fuuuuuccckkk,” Choso moans out as he presses himself even deeper into you. “Fuck fuck fuck—”

You feel him biting into the tender flesh of your neck to quiet himself even more. You cry out his name, nails coming up to dig into his shirt. You’re trying to keep yourself grounded, but it’s all too much.

“Tightest little pussy ever! Fuuuck you feel so good.”

Your walls begin pulsing around him as the fat tip of his cock keeps slamming into that sweet spot of yours. You’re not even sure how you’re keeping quiet right now, especially when he’s fucking you so good.

You watch as he leans back a little, pulling out just a bit and he spits on your cunt. You shudder as his fingers begin to rub the saliva on your clit, and his pace picks up again quicker than before. Flames lick in your lower tummy, and your mind begins to go blank from the sensations.

“Haaah, look at you. Fuckin’ you dumb, aren’t I? Damn, gonna have to make you my little princess.”

You nod eagerly, tears stinging your eyes as you feel the coil in your stomach tightening impossibly tight. Choso smirks as he watches you come undone. Your gummy walls begin to milk him, and Choso pulls out just in time to jerk himself off to completion. Ropes of hot cum cover your mound and lower belly. Choso then sits back on his knees, admiring his handiwork.

What surprises you is when he leans in and gives you such a tender kiss.

“I meant what I said,” he smirks. “Gonna have to make you my little princess.”

324 notes · View notes

victorie552 · 3 months

Text

Ok, so Noldolantë, "The Fall of the Noldor" is a lament composed by Maglor about what happened before, during and after First Kinslaying at Alqualondë. It's such a good song that it's played regularly in Aman and Valar listen to it often (I swear, I swear it was in the Silmarillion I just can't find it now).

It's also a more or less common fanon that Maglor continues writing Noldolante through the whole First Age. Makes sense - it's about fall of the Noldor, and Noldor did a lot of falling back then.

Headcannon time: So my first thought was that Noldolante must a long, long, long epic of a song. So it probably has many parts, right? Iliad has 24 books/parts, somehow I think Noldolante would be at least just as long, and there are longer epics. And again, just like Iliad, unless you're a scholar, in the daily life you don't really listen to/read the whole thing, just reread and repeat the most dramatic fragments. What I'm trying to impress upon you all is that the story would have different segments, or chapters, if you will.

And if Maglor continues to write the story during the FA, there would absolutely be a moment in the lament where the OG Noldolante becomes Noldolante 2, and even Noldolante 3. There may be the same musical motif or something, I decided that Maglor IS that good of a bard to keep it all consistent enough so you know it's all the same story, but the style changes a lot - it's been 400 years in the making, let The Music Elf have fun!

So, Point 1: Many, Many Parts, basically Maglor's FA WIP

My second thought was that, while Feanor invented his alphabet, elves learned their history mostly through oral tradition aka songs and spoken stories. Noldolante is definitely a historical record, where a historical event was archived for future generations.

(It was a also a way to deal with grief, guilt and blame Maglor and all Noldor have faced regarding First Kinslaying - free therapy! But that's not what this post is about)

Archived.

My 2.5 thought was that Noldolante isn't just recallings of how pretty and horrified the beach looked during the murdering or how mad and sorrowful the sea was at everyone during the voyage or even how awesome and charismatic Feanor looked during his speeches that every single Noldo was ready to fight Morgoth barehanded in his name - no, this is a record of who killed who, who got killed by whom, and how.

Noldor and Teleri knew each other (were friends, even!) before the First Kinslaying, so I'm confident that after a lot of interviews, detective work, and cross-referencing, Maglor could and would create a very good... name list. Practically every Noldo and Teler present during First Kinslaying would get a stanza in a song, more if he killed someone, most if he killed many people. Killers and killed would show up twice, first in a fragment listing the killers and their victims, then in a part listing the victims and their murderers. Basically it's the same thing twice, but from different POVs. With when, where and how included.

(It was seen to be in bad taste to compare kills during Maglor's Regency, when most of his interview-part work happened. People did it anyway. There were a Saddest Kill, Funniest Kill, and Weirdest Kill discusions. There was a Tier List. These were weird times to be a Feanorian Noldo.)

(It WAS in Bad Taste, but at least people talked about it. I cannot stress enough how much free therapy this lament provided)

(Little did they know, when Teleri started getting reembodied in Aman, they had very similar discussions, but more in a "I can't believe he killed me like THAT" way. Long, long, long after the First Age. Noldolante is a gift that keeps giving)

So, Maglor had all the historical grith and no common shame to create a "We Killed All These People And We Feel Bad About It" banger of a song, and every Noldo had a very personal reason to at least remember the fragments they are in. It's a hit on a scale never seen before.

(I'm not sure how to tackle the issue of Nolofinweans and Arafinweans learning about Noldolante after crossing the Ice. But there were discussions. There was anger, there was "????", there was controversy. Basically, the song got bigger and bigger rep no matter what your opinion on it was. By the time of Mereth Aderthad it was an important cultural and political piece and at least Fingon's forces were included in the main song. It had parodies.)

Point 2: Archive Function/Kill count storage. Cultural phenomen, every Noldo included

This is where my personal nonsense begins: Main Noldolante was done, there was nothing more to say about First Kinslaying, all killings and deaths were well documented.

But the Siege started. And the Noldor kept dying.

It was less dramatic than it sounded - between the big battles the siege was maintained, but orc raids also happened and sometimes one to few Noldor died in skirmishes. The legal procedure was to document the death of a fellow elf and send a word to king Fingolfin. The cultural procedure, technically started by Feranorians but adapted by many more, was to send the name, common characteristics and cause of death to Maglor's Gap. After few months, King Fingolfin would send reinforcements, short condolences and financial compensation if they had family. After few months, family of an elf would also receive a personal lament for them and a place for them in a Noldolante.

Yes, every lament Maglor created in that time was technically part of the Noldolante. Noldolante 1.5, if you will. Laments make in that time were very customized, and simpler than Noldolante Main, but were still considered a part of the same song. Of course, nobody was expected to know and remember laments for every single Noldo, younger Noldor born in Beleriand could even only know fragments about their family members. Only Maglor would ever know Noldolante in full, but it was understood that everyone had their place in The Song.

The results of Great Battles were harder to document, but Maglor did that. Of course, Dagor Bragollach was hard on him personally, but he worked his way through.

(High King Fingon forbade creating laments for his father. There were no songs for Fingolfin. Apart from in Noldolante, of course. Of course. Maglor did not share the lament with anyone, but he sat long hours and many nights with a blank paper before him, looking at the candle flame and thinking of the past and the future. The song unsung, but there)

Nirnaeth was... Maglor was never more hated and more approached at the same time than then. Still, Noldolante grew and grew, as if people knew the end was near.

It was Second Kinslaying that destroyed the myth of Maglor's song. Feanorians didn't know the Sindar they killed, but surely, they couldn't just left their names unmentioned like they did with orcs? So, Noldor talked, but the battle happened in caves - it wasn't uncommon to find dead bodies in empty rooms, with no witnesses to what happened. Surviving Sindar didn't want to share any names, even when Maglor strong-armed some into talking with him, and good for them. Maglor made a big lament anyway. Maglor, wild, with no shame and dead brothers, with legacy crumbling around him. Noldolante, with holes.

After Third Kinslaying, Noldor didn't want to talk. Lament for Sirion didn't have any names. Clearly, songs weren't a way to go anymore, it was always about live witnesses. And so Maglor raised the twins.

Lament for Maedhros was sung repeatedly. There was no one to hear it.

Point 3: Only Maglor knows Noldolante in full. But that doesn't matter, because everyone knows the important part: the Noldolante is finished. The Star of Hope rises in the West and the story goes on. The Fall has ended.

#silm #silmarillion #noldolante #maglor #yet another post that went in different direction than I planned #started with meta went into headcannon and ended with fanfic angst #I wanted to end it with crack!!!#I mean. I mean #it all makes kind of some sense if we're talking about elves here #but guys Noldor had Men and Dwarves as allies #Maglor would want them in his Historical Record song #I think with Dwarves they would mainly refuse when he asked them if they wanted a part in Noldolante #so maybe he would only get some allies and personal friends of Maedhros in #but Men #guys Men. they would agree and they would make lists and it would become Clown City so fast #but Sons of Feanor aren't known for their ability of knowing when to quit #so Maglor has a Noldolante 3.0 Standard Version with 254 Parts that has Elves and an Occasional Dwarf Only #and Special Version Noldolante Deluxe Extra Edition with 547398134 Parts that includes Men #everyone is included you don't have to die in battle #all common causes of death have a dedicated jingle to them #to the point you know a man's cause of death after 3 notes #these parts of Noldolante well the music bit actually survived into the Fourth Age #the words are gone but the music is played at funerals in some places #The Noldolante Main survived only in parodies though #actually Finished Noldolante is a very good thing huh #as in no more Fall of The Noldor #they can finally catch some break #I believe that during Maglor's Regency Era all Noldor did was Processing. and breeding horses.#Noldolante? more like Maglor Finally Discovers Shame: A Story #I think some personal revelations on legacy and connections between children and life's works would be made

240 notes · View notes

kmt123whatsthetea · 2 months

Text

The Big Book of Desires

George Weasley x reader x Fred Weasley

Requested by: @gdogcat1

Request gist: “The twins find their wife’s dirty fantasy book and surprise her”

A/N: Thanks for the request! Sorry it's taken so long to write. Because no kinks were specified, I decided to pick some at random. I also focused on the marriage aspect and went for a ‘Reader feels the mundaneness of marriage and twins surprise her’ fic.

T/W: Fred being a bad influence on George and his sweet mind, Snooping, Daddy kink, Master kink, Blindfolding, Bondage, Edging, Unprotected sex

Married life with the twins was how you'd always expected it to be. Sure, it was an amazing time in your lives, but the day was starting to go the same as the day before.

Wake up, work in the shop, make dinner, sleep, then wake up and repeat the day again.

The twins could tell that something was up with you. You weren’t as affectionate as before, you weren't as cuddly in bed, you didn’t kiss them before work. Something was wrong, and they vowed to find out. The twins came back to the flat after a long shift, one that you had off, and noticed something new. A new book that your eyes were glued to. Sure, you liked to read and owned most of the books on the bookshelf, but this was new.

The title read “The Fire of Love and Romance” in fancy writing. The woman on the cover was in nothing more than underwear with a man standing over her in a shirt and grey waistcoat. The twins exchanged a look of confusion. Compared to the other books you owned, this was an anomaly. When you noticed the twins, you quickly set the book down and got up to greet them and ask about their day.

A few days had passed and you were still reading that book, or better yet, you were still reading the same chapter. It was Fred who came up with the idea first.

“Tonight when she falls asleep, we’ll take a look and see what she’s reading. It's just a book, what are you so worried about, George?”

The ever practical George scoffed at his brother's idea.

“It's our wife’s property, we shouldnt be snooping. It just feels wrong. Can’t we just ask her about it?”

George knew the answer already because he knew you. You’d brush it off, make some excuse on the spot. That was one thing that Fred loved about you, your ability to lie so easily (which worked in their favour back when teachers would ask you who gave Filch puking pastilles). George sighed softly and relented.

The plan went ahead, and the twins waited till you fell asleep before taking a peek in your precious book. They didn't know what to expect, but they didn't expect this.

“Michael looked down at his new submissive, admiring her soft breaths. He trailed his hand down her supple skin and over her lace covered breasts. He watched as she shuddered and let out soft moans”

“Be a good girl for Daddy”

The twins looked up from the page simultaneously before looking back down, the action almost comical. They were shocked to say the least, but horny as hell.

As if fate whispered in your ear, you stirred. When you saw the book in the hands of your husbands, you sat up quickly and tried snatching it back. Fred held it out of reach to keep reading while George moved beside you. George kept his voice soft.

“I'm sorry, love. We shouldn’t have gone through your book. We’ve just been so worried about you”

Fred was less soft.

“Do you like this kind of stuff, pretty girl?”

Both you and George looked at Fred, confused at the new nickname. George caught on to his brother's little idea and turned back to you.

“You want us to take care of you, baby?”

“Yes Georgie, please”

Fred didn't seem as pleased with your answer as his brother did.

“That's not his name. Address him properly, baby”

Your cheeks blushed a dark shade and you gulped nervously.

“Yes Daddy”

George smirked at your response, his cock twitching in his boxers at the word. You always had a way of making mundane words sound so heavenly. Fred put the book back on the nightstand and stalked towards you, his signature smirk looking predatory.

“I need a title too, love. Can't let Georgie have all the fun”

“Yes Master”

Boy twins seemed pleased with their new titles, almost like they had just been knighted by a fair princess.

Fred walked over to the drawer and to retrieve two ties. He brought them over to you and secured one over your eyes, making you vulnerable to their next move. The other tie bound your wrists together, which Fred then attached to the bed frame.

Both men stood over you, admiring you. You heard George whisper to Fred and footsteps before feeling hands on your thighs, pushing your legs apart. The mattress dipped one the other side of you. Your nightie was pushed up, leaving your underwear and the slowly growing wet patch visible.

“Look how wet she is, needy girl”

A hand pulled your underwear to the side and ran something along your wet slit. When you felt something cold against your clit, you knew what it was. A small metal bullet vibe that the twins bought you.

When the vibrations started, your hips bucked involuntarily. No matter how much you squirmed, a pair of hands held your hips down and your legs open. The vibrator was held steady on your clit, giving you no escape.

“You can take it, pretty baby. Are you gonna be a good girl for us?”

Although you and the twins had been a trio for years and you could tell them apart in an instant, the blindfold mixed with your pleasure filled mind made them sound identical to you.

“Yes Master, Yes Daddy”

The twins were pleased with your words and the vibrator was pressed more firmly against your clit. Your moans filled the room, the blindfold seemingly heightening your senses. When your moans got louder, Fred turned to George.

“Should we let her cum, Georgie?”

“She’s been a good girl, but is more fun to watch her squirm”

Fred pulls the vibrator away, both men revelling in your whines. George couldn't wait any longer and made his move, kneeling between your legs. He pulled his cock from his boxers and lined himself up with your entrance. He pushed in until he was balls deep. Fred kept a hold of the vibrator, ready to keep teasing you with it.

George started moving his hips, thrusting his cock deep inside of you each time. He moved his hand to your face, cradling your cheek.

“I think you deserve a reward for being such a good girl”

With a nod to Fred, the vibrator was back on your clit. You threw your head back, your orgasm approaching quicker since your last one was ripped away.

“Cum, pretty girl”

That permission from one of the twins had you letting out a cry of relief, your orgasm pulling you under. Your walls convulsing around Georges cock caused his band to snap, his orgasm catching him by surprise. His cum filled you up, leaking out when he pulled his cock out.

Fred worked to untie you and remove the makeshift blindfold. He stroked the hair from your face, his touch soft.

“Such a kinky little wifey”

194 notes · View notes

stariekis · 2 months

Text

love novels.

pairing : non idol! jungwon + librarian!reader . genre : fluff . cw : none ! let me know if i should add smt . wc : 2.6k not proofread

— synopsis : who said that you can't live those things you always read in your romance novels ?

— note : long ass hiatus damn ... sorry for being so inactive babies but i've been pretty busy with uni and resting too ngl but i promise i'll repay u🤞🏻 <3 n e wayyys here u have a lil woni one shot :D hope u guys enjoy it! all kinds of feedback and reposts are always appreciated as u know 🤲🏻⭐

This new semester you decided on working for your college's library. You loved reading and you go there pretty frequently so you thought that this was the perfect job for you and you can also have some extra credits

The first days there you notice a particular student entering the library at the same time every day, five o'clock to be precise. At firts you didn't pay much attention to him, he was like every other students after all.

But as the time passes by you find yourself looking for him every afternoon, hoping to see him again at the same time.

He was pretty - a pretty handsome guy to be fair - so it was obvious that he would eventually catch your attention. He also has a unique and calm aura, making him more interesting to you.

This is how we ended up in this exact day. The day was pretty boring, not many people entered the library and you spent most of your shift seating behind the desk and organizing the shelfs.

The sound of the door opening caught you attention. It was him, the boy with pretty eyes. Looking at the clock you smiled, five o'clock, right on time.

He, as usual, when straight up to the 'romance novel' shelft. You wanted to talk to him so bad, but how he will react if you just approached him out of the blue ?. So, when you saw him grabbing one of your favorite books you knew you couldn't let this opportunity slide away.

— 'That's one of my favorites books' you said, standing behind his back. He turned around as soon as he heard your voice, smiling at you. He was tall, his frame almost towering you, and he was even prettier up close.

— 'Really? i didn't know that you were into this type of books' actually he knew it perfectly, he saw the same exact book on you desk the other day that's why he choose it.

You didn't notice but since the first time he entered the library he was enchanted by you. Images of you behind your desk with your glasses on and you hair up in a messy bun keep repeating on his mind since that day, he then started frequenting your workplace more.

— 'I actually love romance novels but this one is amazing really, the characters are so well written that you empathize a lot with them and the plot is like strangers to loves and-' you looked at him for the first time and you were shocked to say the least when you found him looking directly at you, totally hypnotized while listening to you. — 'I talk too much don't i?' you look at you feets trying to avoid his gaze.

Jungwon giggled, putting on of his hand under your chin and lifting your face until your eyes met again. You almost melt under his touch. — 'Not at all, i love hearing you talk' he said almost whispering, you didn't realize how closr both of you eere until he backed up a bit.

He handled you the book — 'Sadly I have to go now i have some things to do but i will come back to rent this book okey?'. You nodded, you were completely out of words and your heart was beating fastly. — 'See you around pretty librarian'.

Then he made his way towards the door and, before closing it, he gave your the sweetest smile ever showing his pretty dimple.

You stood there with the book in your hands. When you were about to put it back on the shelf you saw a piece of paper sticking out tje side.

You picked it up and opened it. You put your back against the shelf and slid down until you were sitting on the floor smiling at the note.

i've always wanted to talk to you so, if you want too, text me :)

+ xxx xx xx xx

pd. you are really pretty btw <3

att. jungwon

269 notes · View notes

sakxramxlkii · 6 months

Text

GENSHIN BOYS FINDING YOUR DIARY ABOUT THEM - HEADCANONS

You often wrote about your crush in your diary. You didn't believe that he would reciprocate your feelings, so you often found comfort in writing about him in your diary.

On a particular instance however, he was hanging out in your room and you had got up to prepare some snacks for him. While you were away, he looked to your blanket and noticed a little pink book semi-covered by the blanket. Curious, he picked it up and read it.

CYNO

- Shocked and intrigued.

- Would probably only ever bring it up if you banter together and it subtly suggests this instance.

-pretends to not know you like him when you come back with the snacks

-dw though if you find out, he's nervous/panicked too, he just doesn't wanna show it pookie ;)

-has a really bad joke or pun when you both banter and you find out

"I'm sorry. I couldn't resist the opportunity to 'snoop' at you. You're simply too fine to just stay in the 'shadows' and 'hide away' like that."

ALHAITHAM

- intrigued too, but mainly calm. He'd already suspected that you liked him.

- he'll probably just keep reading when you come in and catch him.

- bro just reads like it's any ordinary book, silent and focused 😭. You better hope you didn't narrate a whole story/fanfic of you both, or a vivid dream depicted in detail because hell of lord, he's going to read through it like it's written by Shakespeare. 💀

- probably will just spend more time with you after that and wait till you directly confess to him. He doesn't know romance stuff ight 😞

"I know." He reads a book while he hardly gives you any eye contact. "You wrote it in a diary." The silence and awkwardness fills the air. Your face was flushing knowing he had read through it. Alhaitham doesn't really know how romantic gestures work, but his cheeks were slightly tinted. You decided to break the silence by asking him out. "Sure, but if you let me finish reading that diary of yours."

CHILDE

- intrigued like everyone else. Excited knowing you feel the same way.

- brings it up the moment you walk in with the snacks

-will poke fun and tease you at how 'cheesy' and red you are.

-he's not missing an opportunity to just tease and ask you out.

"My my! What do we have here?~ Seems like someone has a bit crush on this harbinger! So...how about a date in a fancy restaurant located at Fontaine? My treat of course~"

ZHONGLI

- Zhongli is a gentleman, he would never snoop. In this case, let's re-write it a little. He would be trying to put the book to a shelf to help you keep organized. He'd unknowingly read the book for the contents to place it to it's respective place until he slowly realizes what it was.

- Like Alhaitham, he suspected you liked him in the first place. He's been in this world for so long, so it wasn't hard to recognise. He was calm too, but a little shocked reading through your diary.

- he's a respective man! He would probably read one or two pages out of curiosity and stops there for your privacy. He'd then put it back to your shelf.

- honest. When you come back, he'd straight up tell you he saw it on accident and that he was sorry.

- avoids embarrassing/teasing you, SUCH A GENTLEMAN GAH...

- prolly would subtly confess that he likes you too but if you seem like you wanted it to be a secret, he drops it and pretends like he doesn't know until you are ready enough to confess.

"My apologies. I was trying to put your diary back to a shelf and had read the contents unknowingly. I read the contents because i wasn't sure which category to place it in." He then takes a sip of his tea you poured him a while ago. "Though...I do wish to admit that I feel as if I may be able to reciprocate those feelings of yours. If you would give me a chance, that is."

12am rn. I will edit more ltr but gnnnnn i'm tired

#genshin prompts #genshin #genshin headcanon #genshin headcanons #zhongli headcanons #zhongli headcanon #zhongli #cyno #cyno headcanon #alhaitham #alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham headcanon #alhaitham x reader #zhongli x reader #cyno x reader #childe #childe headcanons #childe headcanon #childe x reader

252 notes · View notes

onyourowndaisymae · 9 months

Text

unicorn bandages - alt. version

this has been sitting in my drafts awhile. someone requested some lucifer hurt/comfort (that i haven't got around to yet) and i wrote this, only to realize this didn't exactly hit the mark when i finished. but i figured it's cute, so i might as well post it

word count: 1145

content + warnings: playful/smartass lucifer, general fluff, minor physical injury, general mentions of embarrassment

you need to learn to be more careful.

that's what you think as you walk the rest of the way home to the house of lamentation, lost in your own thoughts. the gentle searing pain of your skinned knee was enough of a punishment-- did you brain have to keep replaying the memory of you tripping in the middle of town, too? being clumsy and wearing shorts were both incompatible with your plans today, yet here you are, looking foolish and feeling exposed from your mistake.

the blood had long since dried against your skin. you felt sticky and gross, yearning now for a shower and a place to hide from your lingering embarrassment. did anyone from RAD see you eat shit outside that shop. ugh, and they way nobody helped you up, how you awkwardly stumbled to your feet and-- ahhh!! please, no more!!

the familiar creak of the front doors announced your arrival to the house of lamentation. you shuffled inside awkwardly, head hung, staring at your feet to avoid another tumble. even the book you bought on your day out couldn't console you enough to block out the invisible judgement you felt.

"what is that?"

you lifted your head to find lucifer stopped in the archway to the living room, eyes narrowed at you.

"huh?"

"what is that?" he repeated. "what happened to your knee?"

"oh. i, uh, i fell on my way home and scraped my knee. i don't-- i'm fine. it's just a scrape."

you felt the urge to shy away from his stern gaze, to hide your little scrape from his prying eyes and pretend it never happened. he looks at the wound for a few moments longer before meeting your eyes.

"will you sit down on the stairs for a moment, mc?"

"it's not that big of a deal. it just need to be wiped off, nothing special."

"then surely you'd be okay with me cleaning it for you? since it's such a minor injury."

you couldn't think of much else to argue. he gave you that smug half-smirk he saved for minor victories such as this and disappeared from sight. you shuffled to the stairs and sat, slumped in defeat, as he presumably went to fetch some first aid supplies.

the avatar of pride returned as quickly as he left, this time with a small black box in his hands. a small gesture of his hands urged you to stretch the injured leg out to give him better access. gloved hands busied themselves digging through unidentified supplies.

"what happened?" he asks, quietly, as he pulls out what looks like a cotton pad and some sort of cleaning agent.

"i was... i went out to get this book satan recommended. y'know, because he always wants to talk about what he's reading." he nodded and you continued. "so i decided to grab it while i was out. apparently there's a hole in the sidewalk out front, because as i was walking out, my foot got caught and i-- ow!"

your cry of pain was almost indignant as lucifer interrupted your story by cleaning the wound. the sharp sting of something akin to but not quite isopropyl alcohol lit your knee on fire. had the scrape really been that bad?

"the bacteria in the devildom is a bit more aggressive than in the human realm," he explained, softer look on his face than a moment ago. "we wouldn't want our favorite human getting sick from an accident like this, would we?"

as if he was trying to apologize, lucifer brought your knee closer by the back of your leg and gently blew on the wound to alleviate some of the pain of the cleanser currently working its magic. it was nice. for a moment, he was lucifer, big brother, not the avatar of pride he embodied in public. his fingers fiddled with pulling and stretching your skin to ensure each inch was properly wiped clean. there was a certain level of sincerity to his movements that made you smile.

"did you do this a lot when your brothers were growing up?"

"you have no idea."

that makes you laugh. he smiles, just a little, before continuing.

"angels are supposed to be resilient. their skin is thicker than a human being's, so they shouldn't get hurt as easily. and yet training my younger brothers was-- well, it was quite the event."

"i'm gonna guess mammon was the biggest pain?"

"definitely mammon." a fond smile. he wiped a cotton pad across your busted knee before continuing. "every time i saw him, he was always covered in bruises and scrapes. i could never quite get him to admit that he'd got them wandering off in pursuit of his younger brothers."

"that sounds a lot like him."

lucifer picked up a small tin containing the bandages. these must have been picked out by asmodeus-- instead of the usual plain design lucifer always grabbed, these were bright and colorful with unicorn designs. the avatar of pride only offered a small sigh before pulling an adequately sized one out and applying for you. in a few moments, what was a terribly embarrassing memory had been sealed from the world behind two unicorns hopping in unison over a rainbow.

"aren't you going to kiss it better?"

your sarcastic question was followed by your mischievous little smirk. maybe you shouldn't have teased him while he was in such a good mood. his eyes narrowed a bit before, to your surprise, his smirk mirrored your own.

you open your mouth to play off your joke, but lucifer's already lifting your knee to his mouth. your whole body is sliding uncomfortably off the stair step-- karma sure is efficient-- as his lips hover above your knee. lucifer's lips brush the top of your bandage. he makes an obnoxious kissing sound to honor your request before unceremoniously dropping your leg, leaving you sprawled in an odd position on the steps.

"i was kidding," you whine.

"my apologies. i just wanted to make sure you healed correctly."

"yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

the avatar of pride is quick to repack the first aid kit and rise to his feet. you reach out for his hand to help you up. in a bout of playfulness, he instead high fives your open palm, small smirk dripping with sarcasm. of course you had to catch him in a good mood. you sigh dramatically. this time, his offer to help you stand was genuine. a quick tug of your hand and lucifer had quickly pulled your fragile human body off the steps.

"careful, mc. wouldn't want you to fall again."

"i think you'd enjoy it, actually. sadist."

"... you're probably right."

"huh?!"

your cry is indignant as he begins to exit. you chase after him without hesitation. that smirk on his face meant he was joking, right?

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me lucifer #otome #obey me fluff #obey me x reader

385 notes · View notes

xllizs · 10 months

Text

Surfs up! Lifeguard!Toji x bad surfer!Reader

not rlly proof read / TAGS: Smut w/ plot, Age gap (reader is 22 and toji is 30) size kink, size difference, all characters are 18+, low-key bimbo coded but not rlly, pet names (ex. doll), praise, lifeguard, beach, surfer, hotel room sex, toji with a white tank top and red trunks (and a whistle), life guard tall chair things but a big one, extra character(s): gojo (ps. if toji is spelt "tori" please don't bring it up, I hate my MacBook.)

Today you were gonna surf,

At least that's what you told yourself this morning.

You got outside of your hotel with the strong scent of sea salt, remembering how close you were to the beach. You had a bikini on while holding your hot pink and white surf board.

You used to surf so much when you were younger, but after college you really haven't. You decided this vacation was it.

The hotel you booked was practically on the beach with great waves that amazed you. You had to take the opportunity!

As you strutted down the railing you spot a black haired man on his way back from the lifeguard tower,

and oh god, he was hot.

You almost trip over yourself from staring at him while walking. His tank top fit him so well and hugged all the right places. The way his whistle bounced off his chest when he walked, you swore your mouth was watering. But you can't let him distract you. You told yourself you would surf!

You sprint a little toward a nice spot to sit at, "Hey!" You hear a shout and freeze. You look towards where the noise came from "Yeah?" you shout back. You realize its the black haired man from earlier.

"You surfing?" he questions you.

You look at him, then your surf board, and back at him, "Yeah I am" your brows furrow, confused on why he's asking. "We are just trying to let everyone know that the current is really strong today, so just be careful." he alerts you with a small smile.

You look at the ocean and wince but look back at him "Ohh alright, thank you!"

its not that you aren't a good swimmer, you just aren't a strong swimmer.

Looking around there aren't too many people right now at the beach, just surfers. You assume the lack of people is because of the harsh water. You set your stuff down and sit on your chair for a few minutes.

You take off your sunglasses and grab your board out of the sand and head towards the ocean.

Stepping into the ocean, its cold but not terrible. You continue walking into the water until you're hips deep and start to swim out more

The waves were HUGE. you jump to avoid them until you find the one you want.

That one. That's the one you tell yourself

You pick up a pace with moving your arms quick. You get a grip on your board and start to stand up on it and catch the wave! You couldn't believe yourself! You're doing it. You're in the air, you lean back and forth a little but catch yourself. But you suddenly fall off. even though you just fell, that was amazing. You forgot about the thrill.

You decide to start to head back to shore but you realize you're having a hard time swimming back. Fuck me. you say out loud.

Suddenly, a whistle blows.

"She's not even that far out, Toji." Gojo says rolling his eyes at the black haired man.

"The currents pulling her," he says putting his eyes back on the binoculars, "can she not hear my whistle?" he sighs, putting the whistle around his neck into his mouth, blowing it again. He points in your direction and signals to come closer to the shore. He opens his mouth for the whistle to drop down. Toji sits down on the tall and wide life guard chair. "I don't think she can get back to shore.." Gojo says, "I'll go" he says.

"No, I got it" Toji says putting his arm in front of the man.

Toji takes his whistle off and sits it next to gojo. He stands up on one of the steps, cross his arms and takes his tank top off , he jumps off of the tower and grabs a orange rescue tube.

FUCK! Is he coming over here?? You feel the current still pulling you and you keep trying to swim, hopefully making progress. You felt terrible and embarrassed. He even warned you!

You watched as he runs quickly into the water and dives right in, he swims faster than you ever could.

"You alright?" he worries. "Yeah, I just can't swim back. Im so so so sorry!! I thought I could swim back." you say with a pout.

"Don't worry about it, doll. Its my job" he responds with a chuckle

that nickname. shit. he's even hotter up close.

He throws a orange thingy towards you and you grab on

"You got it?"

"Yes!" you reply while using the other hand to hold your board.

He holds onto the other end and he starts to swim back with you, and he's just as fast as he looked. Soon enough you were back on shore and you pause right before you give him back the orange thing.

His wet hair, his v line, his abs. he was so fit.

you realized the longer than it should've been pause and give it to him. he notices your eyes analyzing his body, he does the same too you. He thought you were the prettiest surfer he's ever seen, maybe surfer isn't the best word.

"Thank you so much again..I'm really sorry." you repeat.

His expression softens and he gives you a reassuring look, "Look, its really okay. That was probably the easiest thing Ive ever done anyways. Im glad I saw you when I did." He says again with a small smile.

"That makes me feel better haha,"

that laugh, your voice. he didn't wanna stop talking to you.

"I was so embarrassed. I haven't even- FUCK OW!" You scream out. Tojis head whips back towards you rushing to your side. something pierced your foot, the pain makes you whimper.

He says you hop up onto one foot, "Here let me see." he says. He places one hand rubbing your back and the other holding your foot. "Oooh shit. that's a seashell. Its pretty deep too, but don't panic. I'll bring you over to where the first aid kit is ok?"

You nod your head and whimper when he touches close to the cut. "Im sorry honey."

You might be in pain but that nickname makes your face heat up.

"I can't walk over there, though." you say with tears in your eyes from the pain you got when you tried relaxing your foot.

"I'll carry you, no big deal."

before you have time to speak, he lifts you up and carries you bridal style towards where he sat before.

"Yo, Gojo! Get the first aid ready!!" he shouts out

You arrive and he sits you next to his friend, who you assumed was named Gojo.

"Okay Gojo, grab her stuff and I'll clean up her cut."

"Ight" Gojo says, he couldn't have been that much older than you, he was wearing a tropical button up that was open so you saw under, and red trunks. You point towards where your stuff is.

"Okay doll, I'm just going pull it out with tweezers and clean it ok? While I take it out I want you to squeeze my hand if it hurts. The cleaning won't be any better 'cause I really think its infected."

You nod and grab his hand. He takes the tweezers and gets a good grip. "Okay, 1, 2,3.." he pulls and you squeeze while your eyes water and you start shedding tears, once again whimpering at the pain. he hears you choke up on your tears and quickly looks up and back, "its ok baby I got you, its almost out. You're ok."

You breathe in and out calming yourself, being embarrassed of the big baby you're being right now. But it hurt so bad.

You feel relief but still pain when you realize its out

"Got it!" He smiles at you while grabbing stuff to clean it with.

"Hey, lets not focus on your foot, aye? What's your name and you live around here?"

you cringe at the coldness from the cleaning product he's using, "Uhh, I'm y/n, I don't live around here, but I came here cause its been a good few months since I graduated college. I really needed to surf again cause I was so good, clearly, I'm rusty" you give a breathless laugh and sigh at yourself. "Haha, well I'm Toji. By the way, I could tell you didn't live around here already, I would've noticed a gorgeous girl like you a while ago." he smirks. Your cheeks heat up again and you don't even feel the pain anymore. you realize you should flirt back. You sigh and say "I'm glad I had such a hot lifeguard save me" smiling at him

toji swears all blood rushes to his dick as he gets a boner from what you say.

You guys talk more and you realize the man is 30, but it doesn't bother you that you guys flirted. He flirted way more in the conversation you had though. Talking about your bathing suit, the way you smiled, how your eyes were shining in the sun. He was such a sly man.

At the point, Gojo had brought your stuff back and went into the lifeguard tower.

Toji wraps up your foot. He holds your hand as you walk down the 3 large steps. "Thank you so much, how can I repay you?" you wonder and stare at him, "no need doll, let me walk you back. You said you were here for vacation right? I'm assuming its one of these hotels?" he questions you, you point to the one you were staying at.

He grabs your things and wraps an arm around you, queuing you to wrap your arm around him for support.

You arrive and you guys take the elevator. The elevator shakes a little causing you to fall towards toji. He stares at you and kisses you. you close your eyes. he kisses you so good. his mouth kisses you down towards your neck and he sucks on it, making you moan. the elevator dings once it arrives at your floor. He tries not to hurt your foot but he can't wait to fuck you, so he picks you up. You put your keycard against the lock and it flashes green. He opens the door and slams it shut. dropping you onto the bed.

He starts kissing you hard while his dick grinds against you. with your bathing suit not being heavy the feeling causes you to moan. Like he did in the elevator he moves his way down sucking hard in different parts of your neck. leaving marks everywhere he went. As he is sucking down on your neck his hand finds its way to the bottom of your bikini. he puts his hand under it and rubs your clit. you moan. he kisses his way down to your boobs and takes of ur top with one hand. you were so wet from everything he was doing. the way he touched your clit so well. the way he was rubbing circles and your nipples and sucking on your tits. the way he kissed you. you have never felt better.

"Toji- fuck!" he moves down pulling his fingers out of your bottoms so he can take them off. he spreads your legs far apart. and starts eating you out. his tongue licks your clit so well. he sticks his fingers in you, starting with 2. he thrusts in and out and finds your g spot cause of how you moaned when he touched it.

his fingers curl against it multiple times. you squeeze around them. he thrusts them in so fast. "oh my fuck! don't stop toji please aw!" you whine out.

he curls against it again and you cum.

you pant out catching your breathe

"holy fuck oh my god."

hes not done with you. not even close to being done.

he sticks his tongue inside of you while rubbing your clit with his hand.

"fuck toji! please just fuck me already!"

he takes his tongue out and stands up from being bent down.

"You gotta beg for what you want baby." he says with a smirk, his dick so visibly hard.

"Please toji. please fuck me." you beg with a whimper.

"Good girl."

He takes his trunks off and he dick leaks with precum it was so hard. it was so big. your eyes widened. "holy fuck" you whisper. toji chuckles at your reaction, "you got a condom?" you shake your head in response "im on birth control"

after you said that, he wastes no time.

he takes your legs and drags you closer to the end of the bed and pushes your legs to your chest.

he strokes his dick and moves it up and down to get some of your slick on it. he purposely moves more on your clit making you whine out.

he starts to push his tip in. you've never taken a dick this big. he keeps going until his tip kisses your cervix. you moan when it hits places your fingers could never. '"god you're so tight." he groans. "so full, toji mmmm" you slurr out.

he pulls all the way out and quickly thrusts back in "fuck oh fuck!" you cry out "feels so good"

his thrusts are a little slow, but it isn't long until he goes fast.

the speed he was going was insane. you couldn't take it. it was unreal. you squeezed around him. "your pussy is taking my dick so good." the sounds of your body connecting was so loud. the sound of your wet cunt was just as loud. you moans sync with every time he touches your g spot. "ohh..myy..fuckk" your words coming out every time he thrust back in. you couldn't even speak. he was fucking you brainless. you were seeing stars "does my baby feel good?" he says with a groan after.

you open your mouth to speak but all that came out was a moan "Can't even fucking talk, babys fucked dumb huh?" he laughs you squeezed against his dick making him groan. he slows down, teasing you. "fuck toji-im gonna- cum im fucking- summing!!!" you cry out moaning you spasm against him but he doesn't stop. he's fucking you through your orgasm. "fuckkk how are you still going oh my god!" you are drooling so much. you can't take it.

after your, you can't even remember how many times you came. he still hasn't even shown any signs of cumming.

he goes slow and pulls all the way out and pushes back in again. you couldn't take it. he goes fast, but his thrust start getting sloppier. "gonna cum. gonna fill you up." he says catching his breath. he goes really fast again with a few more thrusts. slowing down again. then he comes. it felt so good. you were on cloud 9. you couldn't even speak.

he pulls out and moves you against the beds pillows, laying next to you.

"visit here again, okay?" he says still catching his breath.

NOTES: im sorry if my grammars bad or some seems rushed!! I thought of this after I went to the beach yesterday and the Current was SOOO strong!! these girls needed help and this hot lifeguard did exactly what I wrote that toji did. also I have no experience at all has a swimmer, surfer, or lifeguard... so please don't mind anything that's strange!! again my MacBooks autocorrect keeps changing toji to tori!! pls let me know abt anything else, criticism is helpful!

#dilf toji #jujutsu toji #toji x reader #toji x virgin #jujustu kaisen #toji imagine #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x you #toji headcanons #fushiguro toji #jjk season 2 #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #jjk gojo #jjk toji #smut

415 notes · View notes

psychelis-new · 1 year

Text

pick a pile: "Love guidance"

[TW: PILES MAY HIDE TRIGGERS FOR SOME OF YOU, ONLY READ IF YOU'RE IN A GOOD PLACE AND FEEL IT'S FINE TO]

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read some suggestions or infos on what is about to come in your love life or what you may still need to heal in order to receive your love blessings and dreams. for singles, taken and into situationships (adapt to your case).

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life and of your decisions.

(photos found on unsplash)

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

1 2 3 4 - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1

I think most of you may already be in a relationship or something. Lot of plans about the future, lot of imagining how things will be and turn out (okay, some of you may just love to daydream about love). But there's a need to talk about things. You may tend to always look at the best side, the half filled glass, but it's not that the empty side doesn't exist. You probably need to be more grounded when it comes to love, a bit more practical. I didn't want to write it at first but now that I see the reason behind hearing it after one line, and well... you seem a bit naive at times, or tend to avoid (for any trigger) to see the negative part. This is something that, especially on the long run, may turn out to be toxic and make you unaware of what is really going on inside of you and the relationship itself. It feels like you dream about the perfect relationship, the one we find in movies and books and imagine it will be easily so with the right person... tbh, in reality, it's not so easy to realize. You need to put in effort, you need to find compromises, you need to realize also what is going wrong with the other, you need to stop and sit and talk things out. Problems never solve on their own, nor the other person can always read your mind (and probably you cannot always read theirs correctly either... and that's normal). Maybe you think your friends or people you apparently know, seem to have a perfect relationship (whatever you consider it to be) but honestly, you don't really know what goes on behind closed doors. What is the effort they put in to keep it all together. Sure, some relationships may have less bumps than others, as if they were written in the stars, but it's not that they have no problems ever. Especially if the people involved isn't entirely healed or willing to talk things out without wearing any mask. So yeah, your suggestion is to try and be a bit more grounded and realistic, to look inside and try to check what are the things you may be able to compromise on and what not (it's okay if you don't want to back up on specific subjects, stand your ground always and don't fear the other leaving you -if they do, it wasn't your person after all), and find ways to really balance this dream relationship with some more practicality. Your relationship is a good one (if you're in one), but again, do not pretend things are better than how they feel inside of you. Sometimes we need to build love with our hands, decide to keep it and choose it everyday (even on bad days), and to work together towards a common goal. It just doesn't always fall on us and stay perfect and immaculated forever with no effort from our side.

If your problem is the opposite, i.e. that you worry about the negative side of your relationship more than the positive, please again, talk things out with your person. You are a team now, you work together and you can work things out. It's not all on you as it's not all on them. Joys are doubled and problems are divided by two. You can reach your dream relationship, but again, have no fear of ruining things by talking and speaking your truth and worries. You're in a team for a reason, which is to not have to deal with stuff alone but to have someone you trust and that supports you by your side. And even if you're not a team yet, try to not focus on what may go wrong, but enjoy the process a bit more and be positive.

song: true love | soja

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 2

I think you may have undergone some kind of trauma related to love. It could be from a toxic environment you were in while growing up or a past love/friendship that didn't end too well. I think you may now still be (even just unconsciously) be a bit closed off to love, scared of commitment or of intimacy (emotional and physical) or just feel not good enough to receive love, to be loved as you'd like to. There's a blockage about receiving, no matter how hard you actually in your heart you need and want to feel loved and are searching for love. You unconscious mind is sending you signals that are telling you "It's not safe" and keeping you in this same but known and safe mold (I'm channeling the song "Churches and Serial Killers" by Emery atm and I think it's so perfect cause it talks about different problems y'all may have. It may be triggering for some so only check the lyrics if you want/feel like). I think you may not have had a safe place for yourself, people used to invade your space, like enter your room with no permission: you ended up having no privacy of sort, no freedom, as if you were not to be trusted or "unable" to do things on your own, and this made you realize you are basically not allowed to have what others have cause you miss something compared to them. I'm so sorry pile 2, control issues from others are hard to deal with, but it wasn't on you. It's their triggers moving onto you (which ofc, doesn't make it any better for you at the end of the day... just do not feel guilty, please: you have no reason to. You are very trustable and enough, very enough, to have what any other person has and even more). You also may fear not being enough to be loved back, you may compare to others again and feel like they're better. You may even try to find compromises or be okay with "easy" loves. But it's probably all caused by this pain you bring inside of you, very likely a childhood/teen pain (not necessarily, again: it may just be a past toxic relationship). I can se you cry pile 2 and I am so sorry. Again, please, be aware you have nothing wrong in you. Talk and stand your ground, let your needs be heard and met by everyone around you and create boundaries to save your own personal space. You can do that, it's not too late. And you can be loved as you want, if not by your closest ones, by the people that is coming in for you and for you alone. Look inside, be kind with yourself and give to yourself first. It's time to do this. Learn what it is that is blocking you and the reasons behind this blockage (if you cannot do it alone, ask for help and support). What it is that is sending you off track, somehow. Appreciate all you are really, not what another one's trigger wants you to be. Validate yourself. Let love in, and be demanding too (you can! Do not settle for easy things). I think for some a loving message from your Guides (or maybe a potential love interest for a few) is coming in soon. Let them help you. If you need to take a pause, just do that. Follow your guts, you will get out of this and find your people and special person (if you want romantic love too).

song: churches and serial killers | emery; so sick | ne-yo (it's funny cause while preparing the page for the reading, I had written "songs" for your pile and in the end I channeled a song for you as for everyone else but you also had the other popping up in your reading... lucky ones, heh)

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 3

Pile 3 is there something you are avoiding to think about or realize? I don't know why but I really cannot find a way to read you. It feels like you're hiding something... Love feels like light, like enlightment, like hope... but, you always turn it outside probably. What about you? I think it's time to heal your heart first. I don't know there's something I cannot quite get with you... maybe you can't either. Confusion, darkness... You have so many dreams involving love, not just with your partner (current or future), but also different types of love. But something is hindering you from realizing you deserve to get it back too. Be brave, what is blocking you? There is something inside probably that doesn't let you see the light, that doesn't let you experience fully the love you feel and want to give away, and the love you want to receive. It may be self worth. Start to look at things from a different point of view. Why do you feel you are not worthy? What makes you feel so? Is it something that happened with someone or maybe when you were little? Stop for a moment. Loves feels far from you atm, someting you are afraid you won't experience so easily or at all. Is it so? Darling, this is not true. Maybe you got turned down too many times, maybe you felt like giving away too much and receiving not enough... maybe there are a lot of past experiences that made you feel like this, so unworthy. But you're not unworthy. I think you are just tired atm. You need to give yourself a break, and start loving yourself first. Go out, enjoy the nature, go for a walk, listen to the birds singing, bask in the sun... just do anything you want to remind yourself of your worth. Appreciate yourself. Just get away from the problem for a while. I'm not saying to pretend it doesn't exist, but to give yourself a break, to find your balance again, to regain control over your emotions. Sometimes moving our focus on something else helps us clearing our mind, so when we're back on a problem, we can look at it with more clarity. So try to cure your own heart. Give love to yourself now. And learn how you want to be loved. How you need to be loved. Love will come in your life, you won't be staying alone for all your life. It will come the moment you'll be ready for it, you'll be feeling good enough to not push it away, not even involuntarily. The moment you won't sabotage yourself and your dream type love. Love is not far, love is inside of you. Go back to it. And it'll reach you from the outside too. Sooner than you think. But now, give yourself a break and go easy on you. Your message is pretty direct here: take some time for yourself, to realize your worth and lovability, and then go after your dreams. And be bold in your dreams. My solar plexus is hurting: if it's a problem about being seen and judged by others, about self worth/self esteem (as mentioned) please, realize that people don't judge you. They just judge themselves through you most of the times or judge you in fear of being judged themselves. You're just a trigger, or someone to be envied. It's their problem, not yours. Find yourself and be yourself [ps. some of you: your lover is waiting to meet you, but please first focus on you to get ready].

song: the 7th sense | ntc, ntc u

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 4

Patience. Meditate and breathe. These are the first messages for you. I think you want a love that is stable and pure, that is growing and feels like home. Something that is calm and not stormy, despite you don't disdain passion. But that's not the storm we're talking about: I think you've been through a lot emotionally and now you want some peace of mind, a safe place, a home. Something to count on and long lasting. I think you may need to take a pause indeed. I kinda had to stop your reading in order to clear my mind and it's something I don't like doing cause it takes me away from your energy and I need to get back to it again. Maybe that's a sign that you too sometimes feel disconnected from yourself and need to find your way back to yourself. Maybe right now your heart is filled with doubts and insecurities, pain too. But trust me that clarity will hit you at the right moment. What you're going through now is only a test, something to check how ready you actually are for what you actually want and need. Your Guides are very protective of you (and probably of what's in store for you too). Trust them and their guidance. And don't be scared to talk with them or ask them to send you signals, they're willing to help you anytime you need. They're there for you. I think you still have problems in finding your way out from your issues and insecurities, your way out of your own mind. You have buildt this cage and it keeps you in, it kinda self sabotages you into not seeing how close you are to what you actually want, how deserving you are. Fears are blocking your happiness. Honestly it can be different types of fears, related to you or your self worth, but in a different way than it was for pile 2. You close off from yourself too. From who you are and how you feel. You cage yourself in and don't want others to be in, cause you're scared of having judged your feelings wrong or of not being loved or... Idk, I'm just very tired with you. It's a very heavy energy. What is going on, dear? Are you scared of your own feelings? Of not being able to properly name them or feeling them correctly? Of realizing that what you want, the love you want, isn't actually the love you deserve or that you cannot get it from the person you want? Okay, darling, breathe a minute and follow me. If any of these resonate, I want you to stop, calm down and answer these other questions: would it be a problem? And why? Again, stay calm. Do not panic. There's nothing to worry about. Not even finding out the answers to these questions: it's not something you should worry cause you're only trying to know yourself and you can talk with yourself at any time, also through your fears and triggers, as a best friend would with you. We're also talking about future things, very likely (for most of you at least). I think you are letting yourself wonder into stuff that is not yet here (and that you cannot very much directly control). Take it day by day, focus on your dreams and desires. If something is supposed to happen, it will. Do not rush things, do not fear running out of time. You've got plenty. Take a breath, darling. You don't have to make decisions now. It will come that day, but you can take your time and do not stress about it now. Focus on healing your fears, on being with you, present in yourself and get out of your cage sometimes. It's okay. It's all good. Focus on the now to make your future. Baby steps before flying away.

song: the silence | manchester orchestra

469 notes · View notes