#i am envious of his vocals

[raesreadingcorner]

Alice By Heart Should have come back to stage and yes I'm still salty about it.

My infatuation with Alice by Heart is almost dangerous.

I wish it went to go onto broadway or even that we just had more videos of it because I'm obsessed and forever will be. There are only so many times that I can watch the same compilations and listen to the soundtrack without being sad that it didn't take off (thanks covid)

Sick to Death by Alice-ness is one of my favourite songs/scenes, the emotion and power is fucking outstanding. The first time I saw it, not so legally, I was in awe. Every single actor gave it their all (as they do in the whole show).

The book doesn't do the musical the justice it deserves. I just want to see this musical live 😭😭😭

The choreography, the harmonies, the chemistry is all so beautiful and then this heart breaking story that it's portraying with slices of fantasies from the world of Wonderland.

I'm just saying, if you have not yet heard or even listened to at least one song from this musical please do.

It is perfection (at least in my eyes)

Also Noah Galvin is in the og cast and his performance for all of his characters is top tier

#alice by heart #alice by heart musical #molly gordon #colton ryan #colton ryan could step on me and i would thank him #i am envious of his vocals #and omg heath #heath Saunders #the whole og cast is a big ball of talent #musical theatre #off broadway #alice in wonderland #noah galvin

[onetoomanyfandomfixations]

Yuki, Kyo, Kagura, Momiji, Tohru with a reader from zodiac

FRUBA CHARACTERS W ZODIAC!READER

((reader’s zodiac is based off of western/greek zodiac signs; will be capricorn!reader))

YUKI

Is so shocked to find out there is a second zodiac curse

So grateful that there are more people like him

^^feels really bad about this

Bc y’all aren’t from the same zodiac - physical touch is even more dangerous

I mean,, imagine seeing not only a rat surrounded by clothes, but a weird goat-fish hybrid???

Regardless, tries to have physical contact with you whenever possible

Linking pinkies, resting his head on your shoulder, being shockingly close at all times,,

Is worried about ur scales dehydrating when you transform - tries to keep water on him for you

Makes sure you never feel insecure about your zodiac form like he does

Has a really lovely feeling of solidarity w you

Would do anything to protect your secret

Because he knows you would do the same

KYO

Straight up thinks you’re lying at first

“There’s no fuckin way”

You tackle him to prove it

“wtf that’s not even a real animal????”

Gets v flustered when u transform back

Mans is fine being naked, but seeing other naked ppl?

Hell nah

Eventually just kinda takes you under his wing w an annoyed sigh

So so touch adverse; is so scared of you seeing his true form

Like with the rest of his zodiac - wishes he was like you

So envious, but in a way that carries a deep sadness

Shows his affection through banter and friendly violence

((Mans will not hold your hand; however will kick you behind the knees - gentle enough as to not hurt, but hard enough to make you lose balance))

Scolds you for anything that could put your secret at risk

“How did you even survive before you met me, dumbass?”

KAGURA

So so excited to learn there is another curse

“We’re the same!!”

Is jealous of your animal form

You’re a cool, cute, mythical animal; and she’s just a pig?? Unfair!!

Constantly lets you know how unfair this is

Pretty upset that she can’t cling to you all the time

She just wants to show you how much she loves you, y’know?

Ironically, tries to do alot of mud and clay treatments to your skin and scales

Loves loves self care nights together

Isn’t opposed to cuddling when no one else is around, despite animals and then nudity

Doesn’t care if you see her naked

But anyone else???

Instantly branded a pervert.

Tries to keep you all to herself; “to keep the curse a secret, of course!!”

MOMIJI

Another one that is genuinely Thrilled to find out there are more like him

But is also instantly worried

“Who’s your god? What are they like?”

When you assure him that you’re safe, is So relieved

Even after this, is nosy as all hell lmao

Wants to know Everything about Everyone

“So you are Capricorn, ja? Who is Pisces? Because I am a pisces too!!”

Thinks your zodiac form is adorable!

Loves sitting in-between your horns when you’re both transformed

Unsurprisingly; will be exceedingly touchy-feely regardless of transformations

Mans does not give a single flying Fuck

Even when ur in public and have to be careful of transforming - is never Not touching you

Holding hands galore!!

Shows you off to the rest of the zodiac

But doesn’t let you anywhere near Akito

You’re too precious

TOHRU

Feels so blessed to be meeting more special and unique people

Is very vocal about this

Is also V nosy; but not in a malicious way

Plays guessing games as she meets everyone

((Usually gets it wrong))

Doesn’t know as much about the Western zodiacs, but is very excited to learn!

Very very cautious to make sure you don’t transform

Thinks you’re beautiful and fascinating when you do though!!

But wants to keep you safe

However, its a well known fact that she’s one clumsy mf

Me too, Tohru, me too

Will tell the most Wack cover stories for you

Wants you to be besties with her zodiac

#fruits basket x reader #fruits basket headcanons #fruits basket #fruits basket kyo #kyo sohma #kyo soma #yuki soma #yuki x reader #kyo x reader #fruits basket yuki #kagura sohma #kagura soma #fruits basket kagura #momiji sohma #momiji x reader #kagura x reader #momiji fruits basket #tohru honda x reader #fruits basket tohru #tohru honda

[l4long-winded]

step #1: move in with your ex's best friend

summary: having just broken up with your ex, you're left with little options. you turn towards a mutual childhood friend who is reluctant to receive you for a myriad of reasons. the top one is surely how he looks at you (austin butler x afab!reader)

reflection: i posted this on my other account before, but seeing as that is now gone, i am starting to look at my works and which will be suitable to reupload. this piece is still up on archive so i want to make it even more convenient and post it here. please enjoy and feedback is always encouraged and appreciated.

warnings: cheerleader!reader, college au, drinking, alcohol, cynical!austin, somewhat bitter!austin, objectification, slight obsession, oral, degradation, filmed, dirty talk, dom!austin, naive!reader, childhood friends, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, cursing, pet names, austin's pov, reader's ex is an ass (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)

word count: 15,081

( this work has been cross posted on ao3 )

Austin isn’t exactly sure what comes over him seeing one of his best friends in the world consistently flirt with other girls with you, his friend’s girlfriend, sitting at home waiting. He’s loyal to perhaps a fault; he’s grown up with these people, their parents acting as parents even to him, so it’s the least he can do. To think the thoughts he thinks about you, to sit in a bar where he spots the same magazine you were reading this morning, to catch the dull lighting shining in his oblivious friends’ faces as he commits silent betrayal—guilt lingers alongside the condensation seeping off his cold beer’s glass. It’s a combination of his hand’s sweat and the sweet alcohol allowing him to try and forget.

He shouldn’t even be feeling these things. Not just because of the principle of the fact, but because you’re also all kinds of wrong for him. You’re combative, a bit materialistic, and bratty because your father’s got an edge in the political regime that’s spoiled you rotten.

But goddamn it... he wishes he didn’t think of the berry gloss that stains his friend’s lips every time he steals a kiss away from you. Austin is tired of being envious of someone he’s supposed to be there for, of gloss smearing his mouth in his guileful dreams.

He drinks to try and muddle the angelic tone of your features sitting on the permanent photograph his mind lingers to against his best wishes. You’re there no matter how hard he tries to dispose of you with his liquor and it doesn’t help that his friend is chatting up a storm nearby about how good he is in the sack, the subtext lost on him in definition as he gets bolder and bolder by the passing seconds. It’s to the point where Austin can no longer stand to hear about it, shifting up to his long legs and dropping cash onto the counter. Typically, Fabian doesn’t notice Austin deserting him with the two women hanging off of his arms. Austin walks until he reaches the designated driver appointed for the night, Wesley glancing up from his beer and from his girlfriend Veronica he seemed to be in a deep conversation with.

“You mind driving me home or are you as busy as Fabian is over there?” Austin doesn’t bother to hide the bitterness latching onto his vocal chords. If anything, it appears as if he’s jealous of the attention Fabian is getting over him and definitely not the intimate secret of how he has you at the forefront of his mind. Wesley can’t see through flesh and skull, not that anyone can, so Austin’s in the clear to think about you in any which way that he pleases without stepping on anyone’s toes or crossing any boundaries.

“Yeah, man, I got you. You don’t mind me dropping off Veronica first, do you?” Wesley steps from the stool, his jacket coming off his lap to then wrap around Veronica before Austin could even answer his displeasure. His tolerance for his friends and their romances while being the fifth wheel could only prevail for a certain amount of time. Under the influence, he’s not completely stone faced, rolling his eyes at the “sweet” gesture. Veronica sticks her tongue out.

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Oh, not a chance.”

Somehow, Austin survived two duets and several solos among Wesley and Veronica in the duration of the car ride from the bar to Veronica’s house. He clenched his fists in his jacket’s pockets watching the two of them give each other a liplock as if they would never see one another again, prolonging the time before he could get out of the car to transfer himself in the passenger seat that Veronica left behind. This is the reason he usually went to places in his own beat-up car, but he also wanted to drink without putting a limitation on himself. The day wound up being shitty from start to finish, something he could have predicted if it weren’t for a gnawing need to numb his brain from thinking so much.

His factory job is in the midst of laying people off and labor never guarantees your spot, his cynicism with his boss as of late causing him to believe that he would have to embark on the job hunting fiasco soon enough. Hanging out with friends used to alleviate these kinds of stresses, but now he can’t see them doing anything other than aggravating with the state his head’s in.

He enters his small apartment after climbing several flights of stairs. The exercise gives him the sense of a pre-hangover so he lifts a hand up to grasp at the ache and switch the light on. He blinks through the new balance, the sound of sniffling quietly filling his ears in his efforts to adjust to the state of the climate around him. When his eyes come through, he sees your recognizable frame sitting on his couch, a pink pillow with your name on it in contrasting crimson thread adorning the front of it. It sits between your arms held tightly against your chest, your chin at the top of it with dead streaks of tear tracks rounding the apples of your cheeks down to your plump, pouting lips.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He grumbles, marching on over as steadily as a tipsy person could possibly manage. He didn’t expect to see you there, especially not since you didn’t live there and he owned this place on his own. The overwhelming images of you throughout the night seemingly intensify in your presence. He’s better off ignoring your existence than it is to risk implicating himself.

“Fabian, he… he…” You hiccup your words. It’s obvious you were crying in here before Austin arrived, but you continued where you left off and he visibly sees the fresh tears forming above your lower eyelids. Who knows how long you’ve been in here on your lonesome. “He cheated on me. After I confronted him, he kicked me out and I… I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Austin scoffs at this, a lack of remorse stemming from his alcohol stunt and from his need to look as if he couldn’t care less about the situation. Despite growing up together alongside him, Fabian, and Wesley, you two never explored a decent realm of friendship. You came from different worlds entirely, your dad being rich and his dad being nowhere to be found. It’s a miracle private school didn’t separate your two lives any further, but you attended public school and began your on and off again relationship with Fabian. Apparently, it’s off again. It would explain Fabian’s unabashed behavior earlier. He was technically a free man and Austin’s jealousy streak suddenly seemed foolish. “Last I checked, you had a bigger house than any of us combined.”

“I can’t go back there. My dad thinks I pledged to a sorority and I lied to him so I could stay with Fabian. Besides, it’s too far from campus and you’re not.” You’re quite the sight rising up onto your knees, your hips suspended in the air just the right amount to see the chosen pair of oh-so-short sleep shorts riding above your thighs. He’s quick to flicker his gaze down and then back up to the lost expression on your face. He’s positive he wasn’t your first choice in this decision given the severe lack of history between the two of you and those shorts of yours are reminding him of the loyalty he ought to be committed to for his dear friend.

“You can’t just stay with me. This isn’t a hotel for you to come and go as you please. I have had one hell of a day and I shouldn’t be arguing with someone about whether or not they can stay in the place that is supposed to be mine alone.”

Austin throws his hands in the air to get his point across, anything for you to take it into your head and accept the circumstances as they were. If you weren’t so heartbroken, he would’ve daringly added salt to the wound by commenting on how things weren’t going to go your way like you were used to. He told himself he refrained because you’ve undergone a lot in the last twelve hours and not because of a deep rooted feeling tearing away at him within. He never has done well with crying in general, never the one to comfort, and never the one to be comforted. He’s not sure how to handle you in this state.

He turns his back to you to rummage through the ashtray he utilizes in a duality as a key tray. It’s a bad idea to leave at this hour, and given how much he’s drunk, he shouldn’t even be operating a vehicle. Soon, the ring belonging to his keys slips onto his index finger when he hears your voice in a whisper.

“... Did you know?”

Silence. It’s pure silence as he slightly tilts his head to the ceiling and guilt sobers him to see through the thick cloud of irrationality attempting to send you away in this vulnerable position. The truth is that he’s considered plenty of times where he could have put an end to all of this by ratting his friend out, but he never followed through on such plans. It’s Fabian’s parents who guided him away from the same path his father was once on, and so Fabian’s actions may have been shitty, but that didn’t grant Austin the right to be a shitty friend in return.

But as Austin slowly turns and drops his keys back into the tray, he focuses on the aftermath of his indecision and the hurtful consequences of his silence matching Wesley and Veronica’s. It’s written in swelling glass in your tear ducts, in the drops sliding over your chin, in the gentle and tragic way your nose quirks to accommodate the light sniffles you could barely breathe from. Austin’s seen you cry plenty of times because you were a sensitive girl, but he knows that this is different than the times before. He can tell by how you bow your head in shame, opaque spots littering your pillow from where you’re soaking it with your pain. He’s not privy to what occurred between you and Fabian this time around, but it’s evident it’s cut you deeper than before.

“Austin… I don’t want to be made a fool of anymore. Please, please do me this favor. I just need somewhere to stay until I figure things out and then I’ll be out of your hair. I promise.”

He wants to protest. He wants to ask why it has to be him (he just knows that the universe has it out for him at this point setting this shitstorm waiting to happen up). It’s just that he’s exhausted, under the influence, and his cold exterior always gives the slightest way for you. He’s got to be as bad as all the other people who enable you in your life, but he continues to blame the lack of energy and his waning patience.

“How did you even get in here?” He asks in lieu of giving you a proper answer, his way of welcoming you to his home without really having to do so. He doesn’t miss the small curve of your lips through your pout as you play with the fringe of your pillow. Austin removes his jacket a sleeve at a time, anything to help how constricted he feels in heat (thanks, whiskey) and from how close you are to him. He can’t remember the last time the two of you were alone together. It’s odd how it’s in this capacity and you’re simultaneously about to spend the night for the very first time. He realizes it’s also been a few weeks since he last had a woman alone in there, a long streak for him compared to average.

You tuck strands of your hair behind your ear, that innocent shrug of your shoulders coming through that tells him your words will be anything but: “I sorta’ told your landlord that I was your girlfriend and I got locked out. He got his keys and let me in.”

Austin bites his tongue so hard that he swears he tastes metal, anything to refrain from talking about how spoiled you are. You currently have a free pass, but it’s not going to run for an unlimited time. He can quip at you in the morning when he’s more coherent and feeling less generous as normal. He hates how much you’re already affecting him. He hopes to everything that you will get this fixed within a day or else there’s his loyalty, bachelorhood, and self-control at stake.

Austin startles awake hearing the sound of pans clattering in the kitchen. He stupidly stumbles out of bed and picks his bat up from the corner of the room before he moves to check where the noise came from. He’s got it resting on his shoulder as if he might just swing wildly as he walks into the area and sees you turning the island into a personal mess. He forgot that you were there, but the conversation you had the previous night comes back to him in images at first and then pieces of audio connect into place. Right, he’s supposed to play host while you figure your shit out.

“Woah there, Babe. Put the bat down, I’m just making breakfast for us.” You scoop the scrambled eggs onto a plate. The smell fills the apartment along with that of smoke that Austin sneers at. He waves his hand to try and whisk it out, the window opened to help with the dilemma. Birds annoyingly chirp and he huffs in retaliation.

“What did you call me?”

“Oh, you know… Babe? Like… like Babe Ruth. He’s the one who played baseball, right? Or did I get that wrong?”

Austin’s expression towards you is serious. He grimaces, but he says nothing in return and sits onto his futon that you’ve transformed from your bed (that you insisted on) back to his couch. A large hand comes down his features, the migraine unrelenting as it digs into his skull. When he’s scrubbing his face with his palms, he brings his hands away to see you there in front of him with a plate and a glass of water. The water comes closer to his features, a gesture for him to take instead of gawking at you and the surprise food.

“It’ll help your hangover.” You smile at him, that damn way of yours too that he has to peel his eyes from or else he’ll resemble a deer in headlights. But even facing away from you, he can see the remnants of your smile in the same fashion of a blob chasing his vision after staring at the sun. He grasps the water and drinks without saying a word, hesitantly delivering the plate to himself to start eating his first home cooked meal in… in probably ever within this apartment. Scanning the kitchen, he spots his counter full of grocery bags. You must’ve gone while he was knocked out cold.

“How’d you know I was hungover?” Austin questions it through a mouthful, noticing that his television was playing what appeared to be a cheer competition. He’s well aware of your college cheering, but he didn’t think it extended to where you would watch it for fun or for studying or maybe even both. It’s at least something to distract him, his eyes narrowing in on a skirt, unable to help himself.

“Uh… Fabian posted on his IG story from the bar last night. I saw your jacket in the corner of the picture and knew I’d have to wait longer for you to get here.”

He can hear the subliminal Thanks for the invite in your tone and he sighs. The division in the friend group is clearly evident, however this may be the realization for you that it definitely leans one side more than it does the other. He reminds himself that he isn’t close to you, that this is something out of an alternate reality in the thick of his own compromising reality and he’s not letting his guard down for a second. In actuality, he doesn’t owe you any kind of explanation since he went out and had fun according to his autonomy.

“You didn’t miss much. Wesley and Veronica fell into their own world like they usually do and Fabian…” Despite trying to stay loyal, he stopped himself from stomping on your feelings any further than they have been in the past twenty-four hours. He sees how your face drops at the slip of Fabian’s name in his peripheral as you plop on the seat right next to him. You’re on your phone, your mouth slanting to one side in disappointment.

“I know, I see it right here. He posted some girls he was with last night. Funny how no one would’ve told me about it.”

Your eyes are glued to the phone. Austin watches you click back and forth among the photos and videos making up Fabian’s “wild” night on the IG story. Austin’s not technologically challenged by any means, but he’s not a frequent poster. Therefore, he doesn’t spend a lot of time on social media in general. Witnessing the effects of it in real time messes with his head, that pretty face of yours sullen and defeated in a way that also doesn’t sit right with him. He may not have time for this relationship nonsense, but he can’t turn away from how sorrow is hitting at you hard. He would like to, but his damn conscience won’t let him.

“Stop looking at that,” Austin advises as he takes your phone away. You whine trying to retrieve it back, but he gets up from the couch and sets it on the coffee table. He grabs his glass of water and heads to the fridge for a refill. “If you want to get over him, you can’t be looking at his accounts. You’re just torturing yourself and I can’t stand you crying all over my furniture.”

He sets the water jug back into the fridge before he maneuvers to have his drink at the island. He didn’t expect you to actually get up and follow him. He notices how your phone is still on the coffee table and how you’re nervously tapping your manicured nails on the surface of the counter. Something’s on your mind clearly, an anxiety in your expression that you don’t know how to voice to him. He can’t blame you. After years of knowing one another, conversations such as these evaded you on more than one occasion. It’d be a miracle if the two of you understood how to talk to each other without any kind of misconception sitting between.

“What?” He breaks the ice, eye level with you as he hunches over the counter and awaits an answer.

You inhale a steady breath, but Austin can see you’re close to crying again. “I-I don’t know how to get over him. I feel like we fight so much and I always forgive him and I always turn back and… Austin… Shit.” You didn’t really curse. At least, beyond the occasional use of “damn” and “hell”. This was certainly messing with you. “I don’t want to forgive him this time. I don’t want to turn back. I just want to move on.”

Austin’s warnings didn’t do a damn thing to stop you from openly crying in front of him again. Your pajama sleeve lifts so you can messily wipe your eyes away and he feels discomfort wash over him. He cautiously rounds the island, a hesitant hand moving to gently grasp your shoulder. He’s not completely useless with this kind of thing having seen good examples of guardians being warm and inviting growing up, and if those references failed, there were always the life lessons of the melodramatic television shows and eccentric films at hand. He tries to ask himself what Dan Conner might do in this instance and how Veronica may give you advice.

The overthinking he engages in is soon silenced by how you utilize the advantage of his open arms and scoot yourself into the empty space. He’s not wearing a shirt, but you don’t seem to care as you cry into his chest and leave behind warm tears trailing his pectorals and then his abdomen. Your arms capture him next and Austin is reeling from the amount of touch you’re attacking him with, slight pressure on him that he deems worse than a punch to the gut because at least then he could respond with a cocked back fist and an eager jab. He has no idea how to react to this besides patting your back and then the hair at the top of your head.

“Hey, princess, come on…” This is probably the first time he uses that moniker without a lick of wit and sarcasm dripping from it. Austin used it to tease you, spoiled brat in his vocabulary in your presence at all times. He feels awkward at this moment, to have it sound so affectionate is foreign for him. “Hey, hey, look… I know this fucking sucks, but it’ll get better. You’ll move on, get over him, and graduate. It’s just a matter of time.”

It’s difficult not to stray away from your frame. He knows he’s rigid, but his statuesque form is still not being pushed away by you. Slowly, you lift your head from his chest about the same pace that you reduce your sniffling. A cherry tint coats your cheeks and nose, your lips dry from how you’ve bitten them bloody out of nervous habit. He hates that you’re such a pretty crier, how spellbinding you are despite having puffy eyes and an equally as puffy mouth he wants to swell further by bruising kisses onto it and prying it open with his fingers and then cockhead. To objectify you while you’re struck with such hurt is wrong and he knows it, but he can’t stop the thoughts telling him he should give you something real to cry over, something worth hiccuping sobs and whines over.

“H-how do you know that? What if… what if I never get over him? What if I always feel like this and the only way to stop it is by having him around?” Your distress is beginning to stress Austin out. This topic is about one of his best friends, someone who will come to their senses in a few days if history has served you both well enough in Austin’s memory. Mind you, he never heard this perspective or thought of it before, the reluctance to accept a relationship because of the avoidance of mourning it for too long. Is this why you’ve ran back to Fabian in the past? Because you can’t undergo the shitty and difficult sadness that comes with a breakup? It’s starting to make sense to him that you’re looking for remedies to prevent this from happening before a weaker and more vulnerable version of yourself accepts Fabian’s hand again.

Austin sucks in a breath, his hands coming in front of your face to clasp together. He’s not sure which route to take, a limited array of options. He can advise you to go back to Fabian and clean this mess up before anything else could happen. He could have the place to himself again and things would be normal until the next inevitable separation between the two of you.

Or… or he could do something else that could save him the future headaches and the misery of having to watch you two get so up close and personal. That’s the selfish solution, but a solution nonetheless that might even benefit both you and Fabian in the long run. By how much Fabian strays and how much he winds up putting you down, Austin doesn’t think it to be real treachery. Ruining your relationship together is one thing, but attempting to save future damage is another… right?

“When I was about fourteen, I had my first girlfriend. Remember her?” Austin sees your face dip into confusion, but you nod your head. There’s a point to this, as left field as it may seem. He doesn’t talk about this anymore, hell, he barely talked about it when it happened, but he feels like it’s necessary for this conversation.

“Well, she dumped me to date this other punk named Ben. I was fucking pissed so I drank a lot, distanced myself, listened to angry music, all of that. And eventually, one day, I saw them together at the central mall and I didn’t feel a thing. No anger, no love, no nothing. It took time, but it worked. It felt endless when it was happening, but an end did come around. I’m telling you that you just have to wait it out and soon enough, those shit feelings will quit fucking with your head.” For good measure, Austin’s knuckles form a fist and tap the crown of your cranium with a shockingly contrasting pressure, soft to go with the overwhelming weight of his honest words. There’s not a lot of things that he expects to happen by doing any of this, but the very least of those actions had been the one you embarked on and that was the sheepish smile you let break way despite the veil of tears still slipping on down and down.

“T-Thank you, Austin.” Your voice is feeble, and the weeping is reducing ever so slowly. He counts it as a victory, his reassurance. But solely a small one since realistically, he doesn’t know if you’ll listen, if everything he just said will go in through one ear and out the other. He just tells himself things will be okay as he anxiously runs a large hand down your back, your frame fitting back into his still-hesitant arms.

“She had ugly shoes.”

“What?” He glances at you and shifts you to where he can get a better look at your face. You stare up at him with amusement spreading from the crinkles around your eyes and the curve of your mouth broadening.

“Nancy,” you begin with his ex’s name, the very one he just spoke about, “She had ugly shoes. I was glad she was gone so I didn’t have to look at them anymore.”

Austin rolls his eyes and hides his laugh because of course you would remember such a trivial thing, anything that has to do with fashion and not at all how Nancy contributed to Austin’s corroded trust issues.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to come with me? I promise it’s a lot more fun than wasting a Sunday night drinking a beer.” Your tone echoes from Austin’s bathroom, the slightest creak in the door since you insist on speaking with him through it as you do your makeup. After your conversation yesterday, Austin found it easier to talk with you. That’s scratching the argument the two of you fell into over switching the television to an action movie he wanted to catch instead of the modeling videos you spammed on YouTube, but otherwise, you two got along better.

You made dinner, unsurprisingly since you got up to make breakfast so early. He thought it was a means to repay him, to show some kind of appreciation for allowing you to stick around, but then you were bouncing about his kitchen the next morning at the same hour with the same cheer competition footage playing. He realized it was a routine you fell into out of habit, another reason to curse his friend in the confines of his mind because who the hell would turn so easily from housewife material. The kind of housewife material who could bake a pie, who doted on their beloved husband, who wore those fitted aprons scattered with red and pink hearts to stand out against the quilted white background. The very one in your possession that shot the bullet igniting the race of his rapid imagination running wild. It’s just the right size to hide your skimpy pajamas, for a fantasy to plaster itself into his cognitive files (joining the rest) involving nothing underneath the apron that has the potential of catching his release.

“I’ve had my fair share of socializing Friday night,” he grumbles back, “I don’t want to be around any crowds. Especially not with a bunch of college kids.” That would mostly be around his age since you were only a year younger, but he can pretend he’s more mature because the hard labor he indulges in leaves dirt under his nails and soreness in his back muscles. Bitterness is rightful here, the path his friends took being in books while he decided to go a different route. He’s still thinking of what he should do, but surviving is always number one. Figuring how to stay afloat is a priority.

“There might be cute college girls!” You try, but that’s not something he needs either. Austin’s never been one for the dating scene. If he needs to hook up with someone, he’ll go to a bar or a club. A college football game didn’t sound very entertaining for him. The entire premise of attending anything with you still sat sour in his mouth, anyway. Soon, you’d be moving out and then you two could go back to barely talking to each other sans for when you’re together with Wesley, Veronica, and eventually Fabian. He doesn’t think you’ll back out of the group due to this recent betrayal, but there’s bound to be impending awkwardness coming as a result.

Sitting at his couch, he lifts his bottle opener to work open the cap of his beer. The satisfying thsk resounds, the cold smoke beckoning him in that he quickly attaches his lips to. He dips his head backwards to get his first swig, making it a proper one at that to fill his cheeks with and coat his tongue over. It’s then that he hears the bathroom door come open from behind him and he turns in that direction from the simplest reaction of sound detection.

“How do I look? Be honest.”

Austin swallows the drink in his mouth with a difficult gulp, one he feels expand as it travels down his throat. It takes effort not to cough, but he wills himself to sit still as he takes in your appearance, that small cheer outfit of yours not helping the thoughts he’s carried for a long while. It hugs your chest, your hips, your thighs, and it’s not fair. It’s really not fucking fair looking the way you do, batting your long lashes at him, awaiting an answer from him like you don’t know how much he wants to cross the room and test the access capabilities of that skirt slimming not even past the invisible equator of flesh dividing the portion to your mid thigh. From how form fitting it is, he wouldn’t have any choice but to bunch it upwards in his curling fingers, offering himself leverage in the process of pushing into you from behind.

Austin swears in his head and he commands himself to look away from the little number to give his opinion on your face, the makeup you’re actually asking about. He gets a final glance of the golden Cal bright and bold against navy blue across your chest before his eyes land upon your facial structure. There’s the slightest wisps of blue glitter over your lids, a sheen on your nose and cheeks cool toned and shimmery that he knows will glow luminescent under the football field’s beaming lights overhead. Curiously, a black, tiny heart rests beneath your left eye, something you most likely drew on to complete your look. He can’t ignore any of it, not how complementary it’s come together for your features, not how glossy your lips appear, and definitely not how you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth with his obvious gaze attached to every detail.

“Is the heart too much? I thought since my hair was in a ponytail that I could pull it off, but I can just take it off if—”

“Don’t, it’s… different. You don’t look bad.” You don’t look bad? Seriously? Austin thinks to himself, that piss poor excuse of complimenting you without being too forward sounding jumbled and meaningless because of a few seconds of overthought filling his brain to the brim. He could’ve just given a simple nod of his head to show his approval, but of course his big mouth had to relay the warped images in his mind through his ditching effort to show care and no care at the same exact time.

But miraculously, your lips spread into a wide smile, your white tennis shoes squeaking over the floor as you bounce a path to Austin and wrap your arms around his neck. His beer rises towards the ceiling to protect it from spilling to the floor, jasmine and orange blossom invading his nose due to your perfume wafting from your neck to it in a direct attack. Against his better judgment and before he realizes what he’s doing, he inhales deeply and suddenly you’re just about in every one of his senses. All he’s missing is… oh God, he’s just missing taste and he can’t believe that his mind would roam there to remind him of it. What flavor is that lip gloss that you’re so obsessed with swiping over your lips to resemble a cushioned aphrodisiac? What mix of lotion and perfume and you would coat his tongue if he traced it right along your neck to locate your pulse point so he can feel it quicken in real time? What sweetness will drip into his open mouth if he sits you atop of his face and smacks the supple flesh of your ass to begin riding at his command?

Your embrace becomes loose as you stand back from him on the couch, “Thank you, Austin,” short and soft on your tone. You step away and grab your purse and gym bag in the process of heading to the front door, Austin sitting in confusion of how you got so close to him in proximity so easily and why you accepted his barely-there validation.

He tries to bring himself back from the place you led him to, your face and body being the real culprits here in all their temptations corralling him in. Saliva returns to moisten his dry mouth as you’re putting your coat over your shoulders.

“No one will even be able to tell that you’ve been crying,” he retorts against his own sentiment, anything to make it seem as if he just complimented you to throw you off and not see a planned insult fitted within. It’s discomforting to get too along with you, to alert you of how he sees attraction in any kind of regard.

“God, I hope not. Fingers crossed!” You say with a roll of your eyes, relief un-strangling the firm grip on his throat and he finally exhales the scent of you away from him and out of his nostrils. But the relief doesn’t last long because as you open the door and step one foot out of his apartment, your head peeks back to him with that same smile on your face resting there. “I’ll try to bring you back a hot dog or something.”

He gruffs out a noise in the form of a reply and firmly stills his attention on the television ahead of him playing a movie he all but forgot about. He doesn’t look at the front door until he hears it close, your footsteps marching away, and the distant sound of fading walking beneath descending the stairs.

Austin rubs the sleep out of his eyes hearing the knocks at the door. The television’s glow is shining right into his pupils and he has trouble acclimating to the atmosphere despite the rest of the apartment being dark. He must’ve fallen asleep before he could go and get ready for bed for the night. He had an early morning shift, another reason why he didn’t wish to spend his Sunday night with you at a football game with his social battery already so low and slowly recharging. He supposes it’s semi-a-good-thing since he would’ve been groggier waking up from his bed and even more annoyed with you than he currently is, trudging on to the door to unlock it for you and let you in.

“You’re so fucking loud,” he grumbles down at you half-lidded, probably half-asleep as well as he turns from you and walks to the couch in the similar fashion as a zombie. Two large hands come up to scrub down the length of his face, the technique of rubbing his eyes conducted to push the sleep away without the hurtful ray controlled by his living room’s light switch.

“You could’ve given me your keys, but nooo, ‘This is a temporary stay, brat’.” Your voice drops an octave as you mock Austin’s voice, the jacket over your shoulders being slipped off. The material falls over the armrest opposite of Austin’s frame and then you plummet yourself to sit next to him, one arm and thigh curving on the couch to face him properly. His head slips backwards, his eyes shutting in what you think is the first of his actions to fall back to sleep.

“It is a temporary stay, brat. If I give you keys, how the hell am I supposed to lock you out?” crushes that doubt, the conversation carried in the usual quipping. Austin only slightly flinches after your hand lightly smacks at his shoulder. It’s with no pressure so he quickly lets both of his hands come up to cradle his head. Letting it remain limp on the cushion would cause a strain in it, but he also wanted to continue laying without any effort applied.

“So, I, uh… this guy asked me out tonight after the game…”

That captures Austin’s attention. Annoyance bubbles up in his chest for several reasons, some he won’t bother to confront since he would much rather deny them, others he isn’t aware is his brain trying to form to correlate further with that denial. For example, the idea of you moving on so soon from one of his best friends is going to be like a stab to the chest. The prospect of having to tell Fabian emerges, but then Austin would have to explain why the hell you were sleeping there with him in his apartment. While he only plans for it to be short term, Austin could not beat the allegation of having you so close to him in any capacity. You’ve stayed with him for a total of two nights and nothing could be said or done to take anything away from that cold, hard fact. Then, would it look like he was picking sides when he was trying to do the opposite? Staying out of it entirely was the best option and yet, he’s already offered you shelter, company, banter, and worst of all, advice on how to rid of your feelings for Fabian.

He peeks at you through one eye, the image of your bottom lip tucked between your teeth coming into view as he stares at you with a nervous anticipation of where this is going. By your silence, he could tell you searched for some kind of reply.

He bites the bait and asks, “And what did you say?”

Your lashes flit downwards and follow your gaze at the slightly empty space sitting between you and Austin. That alone conveys to him of your answer and so he closes his eye back up and reinforces his position on the cushions, his shoulders and neck adjusting into it to seem relaxed instead of agitated by this news.

“I said I would think about it,” surprises Austin, the only indication he gives that it does being how his eyebrows arch upwards and then immediately come down. Luckily for him, you didn’t catch it in your casual and anxious summary of the hours before your return to his home, “I mean, he was a stranger I just met, but I also didn’t want to turn the opportunity down. I saved his number on my phone.”

It’s not totally what he initially thought, inwardly scolding himself for jumping to conclusions. However, it barely changes the weight of responsibility on him from his spiraling contemplation before. The regret of allowing you to stay has surfaced due to conflict overtaking his head, the mix of emotions attempting to be repressed to the point of where the worst possible case scenario pops into his doubts. You could say no to this mystery guy and yet here you are maintaining a residence with him, temporary or not. How could he explain this to Wesley or Fabian if either of them walked through his door? He’s positive they would think something happened between the two of you no matter what he could possibly say to salvage the pretend and yet very real event.

Despite all of that, there’s still a chance that you would agree to the rendezvous. At least in that route he could get rid of you sooner. Your… new boyfriend could hold the mantle of giving you somewhere to stay and then Austin wouldn’t have to deal with the problems of his friends finding out about his loyalties lying elsewhere. It’s complicated. He knows it. He also knows that it would be a lot less complex if he didn’t harbor any affinities for you. He fears being caught because maybe the accusations that would come with it would just unveil truths to everyone. Austin could argue with Fabian and Wesley that the two of you did nothing, but there was no guarantee that Austin could hide how he wanted something to happen, how he wished for the imagined things they pointed their fingers at him with. He didn’t trust his facial expressions for that task, much less whatever oral speeches he could muster.

After his delusions stew for a moment, arguments playing and then replaying on the projector screen of his eyelids, he realizes you’ve been quiet this entire time, for as long as his thoughts ran rampant with pessimistic plots nagging at him. His eyes squint to look your way, expectancy in your features that he doesn’t understand. You drive logic from his head and in its wake, you replace it with curiosity. He wonders why you’re looking at him like that and why he didn’t have the ability to read minds so he wouldn’t have to communicate beyond his emotional intelligence level.

“And…?” He questions and expects you to carry on with your story. You nudge his arm, a bright laugh coming off your lips. Austin thinks it might be the most genuine laugh you’ve had this weekend with him. He actually can’t remember the last time he’s heard it, but he remembers the first time vividly. Before puberty hit any of you, when he hung out in Wesley’s garage fucking around with his friend’s father’s guitar talking about starting a band despite there being nothing but makeshift drums made out of trash cans and Fabian being unable to hold a note, you giggled from the other side of the fence and revealed you’d been watching their ‘band practice’ the entire time. You and your sly grin that you turned into a sneer when Fabian flexed his arms to show off for the female attention. Wesley called you the annoying little girl next door and Austin scrambled for reasons to hold the same sentiment while Fabian completely ignored it and flirted with you anyway. It was simpler when he didn’t have to worry about the ongoing situation and only had to worry about why he enjoyed your laugh as much as he did, finding it anything but annoying in actuality.

“And? And what do you think? Do you think I should go for it?” You continue to surprise Austin. In how much he drowns himself in a silent accountability, you’re reminding him of where he currently sits, where you currently sit next to him, where your knee brushes against his as you await his answer in earnest and not sarcastically.

“Why do you care what I think?” He sits up straighter, his head shifting up from where he previously laid it back on the couch. He finally looks at you, albeit through groggy eyes, but he looks at you nonetheless. That same excitement and intrigue is still there. You’re sure of yourself in this decision.

“Because since I blocked Fabian, I haven’t looked at any of his recent posts. I caught myself navigating there three times today and it’s like it’s a reminder. I don’t feel any better than yesterday, but I had fun at the game and forgot about him for a little bit. I don’t think I would’ve been able to without what you said… so, thank you.” This gratitude is genuine. He almost wants your nose to scrunch and you to burst into laughter so it could just be some kind of weird joke, but none of that ever happens. You withhold your ground, not breaking the eye contact that isn’t in full effect due to the television being all the illumination the room offers. It’s a good thing, too. If the light was on or if it spilled naturally from his windows, he would have to face the depth of your eyes and each fan of your lashes.

“I never told you to block him,” he tries to deflect, but you scoot closer and it shuts him up from further dismissing your acknowledgment and appreciation.

“You didn’t have to. I’m creating that distance you talked about. You were right. Looking at his stuff is just torturing myself and I just want to get this hurting period over with. So, please be honest with me: should I wait or take the plunge? Is a rebound what I need?”

A rebound. Sometimes they worked, sometimes they didn’t. Austin figured early on how feelings could get attached even if arrangements were made to stop that from happening. The casual flings he has run into women looking for more, ones he leaves and turns away in their own disappointment because that’s not at all what he’s searching for. He’s clear of his good time and then he can get back to working his stupid job and then hanging out with his friends to pass the time and make life less suckish.

He doesn’t want to envision you with anyone else. He already had a hard time seeing you with Fabian throughout the years, but he can’t be involved with you more than he currently is. As his earlier thoughts indicated, you could move to another relationship and dump your ex-related issues onto him instead of Austin and sleep on his couch or bed, whatever the hell mystery guy had at his place.

“I think that… it might do you good to put yourself out there again,” he reluctantly chirps and stares at the television ahead. He has to or else he’s going to advise you that this isn’t a good idea. “You’ve only been with Fabian, right? You could see what’s out there and if it goes to shit, then you can stay out of the dating pool until you’re ready.” He doesn’t miss how you lean forward and that top of yours hugs your chest tighter from the compromising position. Your cleavage swells and he wills himself to lean his head back again, his eyes shutting. That’s how he managed not to be swayed by your subconscious charms before.

“Oh, okay! Yeah, that’s good!” Austin feels the couch shift as you stand to your feet. Your sneakers squeak on the floor and air hovers over his feet. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know you’re pacing back and forth. “I don’t even know what to wear. I haven’t been on a first date in… in years. How do I entertain a grown man for that long?”

Austin makes a sound resembling a tsk as he clicks his tongue. A laugh filters from him and he points his chin up to the ceiling to try and get more comfortable.

“Blow him.”

His guard’s lowered staying out of his head and focusing on not staring at you for too long, for the afflictions that it may cause. The statement slipped from his mouth easily because he fell into banter with you without thinking and suddenly, by how quiet you are and how he can no longer feel gusts floating over his skin, he comes to the revelation that you’ve stopped in your tracks. His joke must’ve offended you in some way. Here you were seeking out his opinion and he ruined it by being blunt and a typical man. Austin sighs and forces himself from where he is to lean onto his elbows. He looks from your face, those lips parted and eyes of a doe, down to your shoes.

“Sorry, I was just kidding and I didn’t m—”

“Austin, can I tell you something private? It’s about me and Fabian.”

Austin’s eyes skirt from your shoes up to your eyes and he gazes at you with nothing but suspicion. He’s not sure how the two of you wound up circling to this premise on your mind, but he’s also too inquisitive for his own good. He’s debating on waving you off and just forgetting about this whole conversation, but you seem to take his silence as a means to continue talking.

“We never really did… that kind of thing. We fooled around and I’m not a virgin, but that? No… Ha. I wouldn’t even know what to do if someone asked me to.”

Whatever god or gods were out there if at all did not like to see Austin comfortable in any capacity. He didn’t ever think he would be here talking with you about getting over Fabian while you stayed at his place, much less about sucking someone off you planned to use to move on. He almost doesn’t want to respond because it might be his brain still dreaming and dream-you was setting him up for the embarrassment of the rejection his masochistic subconscious warned him about in the past. He tries not to acknowledge the sick thrill that runs through him knowing that you and Fabian didn’t get to that level of sexual activity. It pisses him off that Fabian took your virginity, but from your skittishness, Austin surmises you’re not sexually experienced and that means that Fabian’s filthy hands didn’t taint you, at least, not like how he thought. Relief floods him at that since the idea of you and Fabian in bed used to churn his stomach the wrong way.

Those lonely nights when you came to mind, Austin came over his hand imagining himself with you. Fabian wouldn’t ruin his need for release.

All of this is evidently troubling you. Your shoulders keep rising and falling as you fidget with your thumbs shyly in front of Austin. This information was told because you needed to confide in someone over it, but your concern isn’t relevant to this future date.

“You don’t have to blow anyone, I was joking, alright? You shouldn’t do anything you don’t want to.” And if the guy didn’t want his teeth down his throat, he wouldn’t try to pressure you into anything.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right. This is just a first date. I’m not even planning on sleeping with him, I don’t know what came over me.” Your arms swing from one side to the next, the atmosphere becoming cumbersome with the thick absence of sound between the two of you. Austin watches you sit yourself back next to him, your elbows coming to rest on your knees in the same way his own did. Seeing that you two were at the same level in that regard, Austin leans backwards and outstretches his arms over the waterfall back of the sofa. He’s not sure if he should bust out some kind of apology for reacting that way to your confession, but he’s clueless in this circumstance. He doesn’t know what you wanted to hear and it’s clear to him it was something specific by how you gradually hug yourself and fight off inner demons batting around the circumference of your cranium.

You chew on your lip and soon, your leg starts to bounce. You’re lost in a contemplation and now neither of you are trying to ease up on the tension surrounding. Austin considers standing up to leave you to get ready for bed without any disturbance and because he has work in the morning, but he can’t seem to move from his spot. He’s glued to the cushions, finding other places to stare off at and unfocus his eyes so he doesn’t linger them for too long on you. If you were to turn to him and see it, it would just make everything more awkward than it already was. He’s silently praying you’ll stand up, that you’ll tell him goodnight, anything for him to just get to bed and get out of this weird trap you’ve fallen into.

“Can you teach me?” You whisper, your head turning solely a few degrees from where it hung to stare at the floor. Austin’s bewildered by what you mean, unprepared entirely for the request since he was trying to find ways to slip out of this mess without further damage.

“Teach you what?”

He racks his mind for what you could possibly mean. If you were referring to how to go on a first date, he could somewhat help. He’s been on plenty of those. If you were referring to remaining cool under pressure, he could help you with that too. But it’s the way you swivel where you’re sitting and flutter those lashes at him. You release your bottom lip from where you ensnared it between your rows of teeth and it juts out in a fullness he wants to touch with his thumb. It’s a gentle pout, your head slightly tilting as you say nothing and just wait. Austin almost asks what exactly it is you’re waiting for when it hits him with the weight of a 1,001 bricks upside the chest, a puff of his breath punching out of his mouth in a gasp.

“Are you serious? You want me to explain how to suck dick?” He doesn’t blink an eye being that explicit, not like how you do with hair falling into your face for the purpose of hiding it away in a sheepish manner. That part he also doesn’t understand since you were the one coming forward with this odd request out of nowhere. He hates how the image of your mouth being stretched open by a cockhead springs to life in his brain. He especially hates how he feels himself twitch in reaction.

“Well,” you turn from him completely to look at the floor again, like it’ll help you gather the courage to carry on. “I don’t want you to explain it to me…” For a moment, Austin thinks that he misinterpreted everything. That or his shock caused you to back away. Either option, he holds hope you’ll drop this until you inhale a deep breath and face him with determination in your irises and a confident rise of your shoulders. “I want you to show me.”

Austin’s heart races as you place your hand onto his knee. It’s underneath a layer of his sweats, but somehow, the heat from your palm reaches past the cloth and singes him regardless. You don’t make any further motions, but Austin believes it worse, holding still when his nerves are bouncing all over the place. Touch could chase away doubt and anxiety, but there’s currently too much room for self-aware thought. He even thinks that you could mean some kind of porno that he could refer you to as a possibility, but you both know where you’re going no matter how many hoops he’s diving through to justify this behavior.

“I want you t-to… I want you to guide me. I know I probably won’t need this skill for a while, but I don’t want to embarrass myself. I need practice and… and I trust you.” It has to be you, is unspoken, but it’s flashing loud in your gaze on him. He gulps as you squeeze him in reassurance and then fold your hands in your lap. He gawks at you with a hardened stare, not sure if he should kick you out or grasp your face to kiss your mouth until you plead for air. Of course he wants it. He’s thought about it, dreamt about it, and now there’s an opportunity for it to happen, but he cannot capitalize on it because his damn friends arrive on both of his shoulders to reject the offer. Only rejection doesn’t come off his lips. Nothing does. He’s watching as you nervously clasp and unclasp your fingers in anticipation.

“Come on, we’re both adults. I would greatly appreciate it.” Oh God, Austin needs you to shut the fuck up or his brain is going to short-circuit. He couldn’t believe you were the one trying to convince him, the one even expressing gratitude for it when he’s desired it for so long. It’s surreal hearing it in real life, how you’d be grateful to have his dick in your mouth. “Are you really going to make me beg to suck your dick?” There’s playfulness in your tone and he flexes his hands on the sofa to restrain himself. You’re not making the right thing easy to do by any means. Austin doesn’t even know what the right thing is since all he could think about right now is your bratty, little mouth being filled with his girth.

He forgets to answer you because he’s overthinking. His eyes follow your frame as it stands from the couch and then maneuvers towards the wide V his manspreading legs are creating. As you lower yourself to your knees in front of him, his eyes drift down and his jaw locks seeing you so willing and eager to do something you know nothing about. You’re being naive and he should push this all away for the sake of his friendships and for a less complex of a web being weaved, but your hands land on his thighs and he’s steadily pitching a tent in his sweats from how turned on he really is.

“Please, Austin. Please, I want to. I want to learn how to—”

As much as Austin wants to hear you beg, he can’t halt himself from roughly grasping your chin into his hand, the first pleas on your tongue snapping the resistance band that’s kept him back tonight, yesterday, and for the majority of time that he’s known you. His doubts may have been a little ridiculous and off the mark with how Fabian may react to you staying in Austin’s apartment, but this is an act that would be completely unforgivable. It’s wrong and Austin knows it, but Fabian fades away from his head staring at your timorous features shifting from enthralled fear to innocent lust, a dichotomy he believes only you can manage. Well, if his friends believe that something happened between you and him even if it didn’t, he might as well let that something occur.

“You’ll learn. But you have to do everything I say, princess. Everything. None of that backtalk you always give me or I’ll leave you on your knees and finish myself off in my room.” He pauses and although he just gave you a warning about it, he does expect you to reply with something snarky. Oddly enough, you don’t say anything in retaliation and astonish him with an eager nod of your head, as if his cock is the reward and he was the one being the stickler for not letting you have it sooner.

He releases your chin in satisfaction, his arms moving back to their place stretched along the couch. He’s thinking of what he should tell you to do first, but he’s cut off watching you scramble to sit up higher on your knees as you fumble for something in your skirt. There’s no pockets in it, so he sees more skin appear as you lift your top and retrieve your phone tucked in the waistband of your skirt. Austin’s about to ask if you need him to set it aside when you turn it on and then thrust it into his lap. He blinks down at it in confusion, the camera app open. He sees part of his couch and the opaque silhouette of his thigh facing it from where he sits.

“Why is your camera on?” is what he decides to go with, Why’d you give me your phone being another that he plans on asking. He raises the phone up, but before he could turn it off and place it down, your hand takes his wrist. His eyes lock onto yours, an eyebrow coming up quizzically.

“I want you to film me.” Austin’s eyebrows must hit the ceiling from how far they fly up. You’re not letting up on him whatsoever. “I don’t just want to be good at this, I wanna look good too. I can watch it back after this and see what I need to work on. Is that okay?”

The throbbing in his sweats is more prevalent than before from how this is going. He’s fulfilling desires he’s put on the backburner for so long now that you keep finding ways to catch him fully off guard. This is everything he could ever want, stressors melting in the background as he chooses not to reply and simply raises the phone up and presses record. He watches your face through your phone screen, the shy smile once there morphing into one of glee that is too sweet for the context of all of this. With the knowledge that he started the video, your hands reach for the drawstring of his sweats, but his opposite hand not holding the phone stops you from going any further with a simple hold on your wrist. Confusion dawns on your pretty face, the look plastered there forewarning him of all the questions you’re going to summon during this process.

“You don’t want me to take off your pants?” Worry encompasses your features as if Austin has changed his mind and you just made a fool of yourself in front of him groveling. He quickly chases that away by shaking his head.

“No, not yet,” he reassures and feels the bones in your wrist shift in accordance to your visible relief, “First thing’s first, I need you to take off that hair tie.”

“What?” You blink at him in confusion, a speck of glitter flicking off the tip of your lashes down to the fabric of his sweats. By the end of this, he expects to find specks of the shiny monstrosities all over him and his couch, a downside he’s willing to accept recalling the nature of what you two were about to do. “But I thought it’d keep my hair out of the way.”

“What I’d say about backtalk?” Austin clicks his tongue and he watches in real time as your mouth shuts immediately. He’s never had anything close to this kind of power over you. He’s emboldened by it, by how willing you are to learn from him, and by how he notices how you shift from one side to the next. While his own arousal is on display in front of you, yours isn’t as obvious. But those shifting hips, those give away how uncomfortable that underwear of yours must be getting underneath that stupid, short skirt. “Now, as I was saying, I want your hair down. Sure, it’d be easier for you, but I like something to grip at. I like something to pull on. I don’t think any woman should look clean after giving a blowjob. I like ‘em to look downright filthy when they’re done.”

He illustrates your future with what he deems as simple words, but somehow, the inorganic flush you painted on your cheeks earlier has deepened in reaction. His thumb drifts along the rouge experimentally, this being the first time he touches your face in any kind of capacity and as he imagined it plenty of times before, it’s soft under the pad of his finger. He doesn’t stop bringing it back and forth until one motion in particular nears your mouth and your lips gently part from one another, a silent invitation you grant him for entry. If he angles his thumb to the side, your welcoming mouth would embrace it immediately. He knows it just from how your breath releases from the back of your throat and ghosts over his skin, quietly beckoning him in to use it to his liking. While he would love to feel your slick tongue on it, that’s not what this was about. He was doing the noble honor of honing your oral skills and you’re eager to be filled with another one of his appendages begging for some kind of attention in the confinement of his sweatpants.

Gradually, he lets go of your chin to resist the temptation of sliding his fingers into your mouth. He can see the confusion in your eyes, but you’re quick to sit up again and reach your arms up to the back of your head to fulfill his request in due time. The hair tie soon evades your hair and you present it to him. He thinks you’ll put it aside, but as you have been doing these past two days, you surprise him and reach for his hand, slipping the band onto his wrist that only makes a small appearance in the camera shot. He doesn’t comment on it, just flexes his jaw as you sit back into place with your hands on your thighs as you await his next instruction.

“Good… Now you’re ready to go. You can start by taking me out of these fucking sweatpants before I poke a hole in them.” He gestures with your phone to himself to emphasize his point, watches as your eyes follow the movement and glue to the length protruding stiffly against the gray material horribly covering him away. You don’t waste any time scooting closer to him, your dainty hands latching onto his waistband to maneuver it out of the way. He lifts his hips off the couch to help your movements and soon enough, the surrounding air touches his girth, his cock and balls sitting on the outside of his pants that you try to pull further down. Austin waves your hands away and you pull them back as if he slapped them, wanting to be obedient in every sense to where he can’t help but slyly smirk. Your hands fall to your lap, but he sees your eyes are on his, widening from the sight, perhaps his size, but whatever the reason, he can tell you’re intimidated.

“Relax, brat. We’re taking this slow. Go ahead… touch me.” Austin purposely maintains a vagueness to this direction because he wants to see what you’ll do naturally, that way he can gauge where you lack the skill and how he can help from there. You’re hesitant as you lift a hand out of your lap and reach for him, your palm meeting his bare flesh, fingers wrapping around him in a loose hold that sets his senses ablaze. He gulps down to keep himself at bay and under control and you gulp down because you’re wondering how you’re going to fit him inside of your mouth. His length pulses against you, throbs rhythmically and then speeds as you barely tighten your grip and shift your hand upwards. He groans out into the air and you’re encouraged to move your hand a tad faster, slightly more confident as you look up at him and not at the camera pointed at you.

“Is that good?” You ask, not stopping your motions enough for coherent thoughts to form in Austin’s brain at a regular rate. It takes him longer to answer by a few seconds since he’s flickering his attention back and forth between your face and your hand on him.

“N-not bad… Grip should be a little tighter. S-should feel l-like this.” The hand not holding onto the camera comes down without second thought to engulf yours still locked onto his cock’s base. The veins in his hand bulge as he guides your hand along him, the vise on yours increasing in pressure and when you attempt to mimic it, he emits another groan. You’re a fast learner by the look and feel of it. He curses loud and steadily lets go of your hand to grip onto the couch cushion for purchase.

“Yes, fuck, that’s good. That’s really fucking good, princess. K-keep going. All the way to the tip.”

He didn’t even have to tell you twice. You adopt the grip he showed you and pump your hand from his base to his tip as he says and he can feel his breath shortening, his camera work becoming shakier and shakier by the second. For someone who hasn’t done this before, you seem to be poised and up for the challenge, still looking up at him through impossibly long lashes in an eager effort to please him. To please him, to please Austin. He thinks for a moment that he’ll wake at any point, but this isn’t a dream. This is real and it feels better than any imagery his brain can muster while he’s out cold. There’s nothing that can beat the sensation of actual touch, the sensation of your hand curled around his cock, a fist for him to fuck without doing any work besides the occasional buck his hips push out against his awareness.

As much as he’s enjoying himself off this alone, this isn’t exactly what you asked for. He can see you’re waiting for him to tell you what to do and that fact turns him on in more ways than one, but there’s still the main subject matter to attend to that has yet to be addressed. Freeing the cushion of his clutch, he props two fingers up to point at your lips, to which he then crooks in a motion towards himself. That’s when he witnesses your face light up, your lips parting further than they have all night in a lustful thirst that can only be quenched by what’s currently thrumming with need in your hand. You stumble slightly coming closer to him, where your elbow rests on his knee and your left hand eases onto his thigh to stabilize your form.

“Look into the camera.” Austin’s command is stern and it slides off his tongue with a force that you comply with without a lick of protest. As your mouth opens and your tits press against his leg, you daringly look up into the camera lens through your lashes and bring his swollen tip inside. He’s hot and heavy on your tongue, spongy and throbbing in a matter that you try to widen the entry so your teeth will be out of the way. The contact has Austin slam his fist into his couch cushion, an action to keep himself in the continued position. If he listened to his instincts, he’d be pushing your head down until you choked on him.

“Deeper… until you can’t anymore.” Tension collects in his muscles holding himself stationary, crescent indents creasing into his palm from how taut his fist is clenching into itself. His short, blunt nails stop it from stinging as much as it would if they were long, but everything is being drawn like a bow to accommodate your lethargic pace descending on his length. Never mind how your tongue proceeds to curiously swipe at him with every inch glissading into your mouth, his cock twitching against the miniscule mounds of your tastebuds. And while all of this feels like a sensory overload at this snail’s race, the part that persists in aggravating the difficulty of being immobile and ignoring his own insisting pleasure is how you defy his order and stray your eyes from the lens to lock them with his cerulean that he bets appear royal from the lechery traveling throughout him. He can see himself in the reflection of your eyes, his jaw slightly agape from every breath he’s consciously exhaling and inhaling back in. When he focuses past that, he notices the dilation of your pupils, how glassy and moist they appear because of the long forgotten television light in the background. The silhouette of your body bent over him is a shape that will haunt him going forward.

Eventually, you have to stop. You stop with a mouthful of cock, clinging closer to his leg, drool seeping from your bottom lip down the underside of him, the remaining girth not inside, that he feels seep to his balls. Austin unfurls the fist of the hand not holding the camera to finally part your hair with his digits, the pads of them shifting against your scalp as the pleasant and silent job well done. He registers how you hum on him, it vibrates your teeth on his skin and he shudders watching you lean into his fingers to relish in the praising contact. In a turn of events, he’s learning about you and what you like just as you’re learning about him.

“Almost all of me, not bad. Not bad at all. But let’s see if this is really your limit.” You blink at him bewildered to what he could mean, but he gives you no time to figure it out. Austin’s hold on your head reaffirms itself as he faintly lifts his hips to drive himself in further and immediately, you sputter around him, your eyes shutting and your neck straining in the instinctual motion of trying to pull away from him. Your lips drag only a centimeter backwards because of how Austin keeps your head in place, throat tightening and constricting him to where he lets out a satisfied moan. Soft tears collect in your eyes, the very same ones you blink up at Austin in a plea to be released, but he only returns said plea with an open-mouthed grin and a rising and falling chest.

“I guess it really is your limit… but that’s where it’s supposed to be.” He leans forward from the couch to get closer to your face. He can tell you’re barely getting over the gagging he just subjected you to. “You should take it until you feel you’re about to choke. The closer to the throat, the better. And don’t worry about the gagging.” His fingers nuzzle against your scalp, affectionately massaging your head despite the predicament being anything but gentle. Still, you flutter your lashes at him in a hope that shows you’re still game. You’re still up for the task, even with the praise, and even with the manhandling. “It feels good for me, looks good too. You’ll have to watch this back to see what I mean.”

Eventually, Austin’s fingers deviate from your scalp and tangle themselves into your hair. They’re still relatively close to your head, enough to hold the reins on your hair and guide you according to his desires. “Suck, princess. Suck my cock like a good, little slut.” His words are nothing short of bold and exploratory at best, but your eyes glaze over, and he can tell you’re close to downright humping his leg from how much you’re unashamedly enjoying yourself. You suck at him as he told you to do, whimpering in the process because Austin pushes his hips up again and tests your gag reflex. Taking the hint, you begin to move your head along with how you’re sucking him, back and forth, tongue gliding under the underside of him, your hand steadying at his base to ensure he wouldn’t slip out. “Yes, yes, fuck, fuck me… T-that’s it. From your choking point back to the h-head. J-just like you did with your hand.”

That seems to be the right form of technicality to direct you with because you move and bob your head faster on him. It’s harder to suck at the same time of the movement, but you work diligently to suck in tandem with your lifting and falling head, spit trickling and slicking him up to where it coats over your fingers sitting at his base. To try and alleviate the sticky feeling forming, you wiggle your digits, a motion that Austin moans louder for. For him, it’s further friction on him, a neglected portion of him not being stuffed inside of your mouth. The remainder is attended to with a clumsy fist, but in his eyes, something’s better than nothing. You attempt to pump him at the same time that you’re bobbing on him and he rewards you with a harsh tug of your hair, his head thrown backwards to moan towards the ceiling.

“Fucking n-natural. Come on, close… lemme fuck your throat.” The restraint he’s practiced is beginning to evade him. His hips are meeting some of your pushes downwards and he can tell you’re struggling to keep up when that occurs. That bit of speed, coupled with the reverie of always wanting to fuck your mouth, he needs it to hit that sweet edge, the one that he knows is going to be colossal for him because it’s never felt this fucking good. For someone who’s never sucked a dick in her life, you’re quickly getting the hang of it. But that didn’t matter. He could help you practice tenfold, whenever and wherever, he didn’t even fucking care if it was in front of Fabian—your mouth was made to take Austin’s cock. He wonders if your pussy was made for him the very same.

He can’t possibly receive audible permission with his dick in the way. He also doesn’t want to pull out being on the brink of an orgasm. Fortunately for him, you look up at him through wet lashes and slowly remove your hand off his base, both of your palms planting onto his thighs. It’s your way of being receptive, something in your irises conveying that he could go on with what he requested and he doesn’t hesitate to do so.

Using his hold in your hair, Austin pistons his hips upwards and presses down on the accelerator to deliver that extra bit of speed and momentum he requires. The tip of his cock meets organic flesh with every thrust into your mouth and the back of your throat tickles to the point of where you cough around him and grasp his wrist to slow him down, and he does, but he continues with the force he has. He pushes himself until he smothers your gag reflex, tears sliding down your cheeks as he holds you in place and gives you no room to breathe from your mouth since it’s filled to the brim with his girth. “Relax your throat, it’ll be easier.” He brings his hips backwards, his cockhead suctioned by your lips. He senses your hesitation to try and pull off of him, a denial of simple instinct to breathe since he’s made it clear that you need to stay on his cock at all times during oral sex. He appreciates your resistance to place your needs first and your insistence to prioritize his, a lesson in cock sucking that he’s been more than happy to literally drill into your head.

“Your mouth’s for fucking—not for breathing. B-breathe through your nose.” Austin’s hand slides along the side of your head to cup the curve of your jaw into it. He focuses his gaze and the camera on your features, mascara running down the paths of the tears that passed through. Your lips are crimson from how swollen they are, from the suckling and from how he’s pried them open and stretched them to mold over his length. Even that tiny heart from earlier has been ruined. It’s smeared at the bottom and resembles a miniature mountain more than it does an accented heart. As he observes you with a glowering intensity in his eyes, he repeats his actions from before and lifts his hips until the tip of him approaches the hilt once more, your eyes filling with more tears. You struggle to meet his gaze this way, going as far as closing your eyes to endure what he’s bestowing upon you, fresh tears falling freely down your cheeks, some falling to his thighs, others caught by the palm caressing your face. His thumb runs up your cheek to catch a free falling tear before it can make it past the hollow of your cheekbone. The pink blush you powdered to the area coats the pad of his thumb along with the moisture of the tear he rescued from its dive downwards.

It’s shuddering and shaky and you’re trembling to where the uneven bone of your kneecaps shift uncomfortably on the floor, but you breathe through your nose as Austin instructed you to do before, all while watching as he brings his thumb to his mouth to suck off the blush and the salt of your tear away. You whine at the sight, your tongue somehow flicking despite the lack of room in your orifice, but the light-headed feeling collecting in your skull floats away with the filtering of oxygen returning back. After that initial breath, you’re inhaling heavily through your nose, straining yourself to stay coherent and suck on him with every pull backwards. Once he realizes you’re not going to pass out on him, he resumes that brutal pace from before and slides his hand from your jaw to the back of your neck. Your hair strands are wildly flying with every thrust of his hips, some sticking to your face due to the wetness gathered there from light perspiration to the tears that have dropped by and are still dropping by since relaxing your throat isn’t as easy with Austin downright pounding into your mouth. He sees your thighs squeeze tight from this angle and the image pops into his mind of how wonderful they would feel squeezing at his head as he slotted his tongue deep inside of your cunt. He could use that and his fingers to spread you as wide as possible for him so he could fuck you just as he’s fucking your mouth. By the looks of it, you’re already delirious from how much he’s giving you. You’d probably go cock dumb if he split you open with his dick and played with your little clit.

“I’m so fucking close, princess, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps, holding himself off, unable to stop from maneuvering in and out of you in the process of how fast he’s talking. “I-I’m gonna’ cum in your mouth. Swallow what you can, Jesus Christ, fuck—”

Your whimpering has actually transitioned into what Austin can only describe as desperate moaning around his cock, the sounds vibrating on his girth, the sounds alerting him of how much you want his cum in the place he promised to do it. It does him in, everything does. From how wrecked your face appears to the images littering his mind every time he closes his eyes to raggedly take in air to the absolutely delicious feel of your warm mouth wrapped around him and the tightening of your throat each time he pushes himself past your breaking point, he hits his peak sooner than he would like and compresses his hold at the back of your neck to manage your position completely still. Cum spurs from his base to his tip, gushing out to meet the taste buds at the back of your tongue and the wall at the back of your throat. You promptly gag in reaction from the thick liquid drowning you and from the overload of the max capacity sitting inside of your mouth. Part of his cum leaks from the corner of your lips, but you wrestle to swallow what you can with his girth still pulsing and spurring with more to glaze your mouth with.

Solely when he’s finished does Austin release your neck, panting above you, coming down from his high. He almost drops your camera, but in his haze he somehow manages to remember his task and he props the phone up to film your face, groaning as you remove him gently and cough sporadically from the heaving and hauling you just endured. He glances down at his cock, a ring of that berry gloss near his base as evidence (along with all the spit) that it was you who just gave him the blowjob of his life and not some whore who’s sucked 1,000 cocks over. That truth causes his cock to twitch, another desire quickly coming over him to bend you over his armrest, but his orgasm has given him some clarity and he remembers that you asked for this and not for penetrative sex. Assuming when this was for your own practice would be crossing that line further and he wouldn’t do that… not unless you asked him again.

“Make sure to get all of it,” he grits, his voice raspy from the moaning. He leans to use his thumb again, pushing the drops of cum that fell past your lips into your mouth. From how you were just spluttering in your recovery, he doesn’t expect you to drape your tongue over his thumb the way that you do, but as tonight has proved, you’re astonishing in action just as you are in looks. He clears his throat when you’re done, his back falling into the couch as exhaustion melds into him as it did right before all of this began. He believes he’s going to get a good night’s sleep after all.

“Did… Are you good? Did any of that help?” He would’ve dwelled on coming up with something better than what he said, but he was having trouble considering how you just wiped his damn mind blank.

“Yes, Austin,” damn, if he thought his voice was raspy, he was poorly mistaken. Not only do you look like you just sucked his dick, you sound like it too. “That was… I liked how… informative you were. I can’t wait to watch this back.” He gets one last shot of your face flitting over with an excited glee and mirth before you retrieve your phone from him and stop the recording. He’s not sure what he was thinking you would do next, but it certainly wasn’t how you all but sat into his lap and threw your arms around his neck. His body is humming with endorphins, too many to make any efforts to push you off of him, but you are dangerously close to smashing him from where he was still hanging out of his sweats.

“Hey, hey, careful, brat—”

“Sorry, sorry!” You jut your hips back to ensure his safety, a glance taken down at his half hard cock that leaves you timorous as you look back to his face, as if you didn’t almost beg to have it in your mouth and then moan like a slut for his cum. It makes him want to do it all again. “Thank you, Austin. I mean it. I’ll send you the video so we could both have it and so you can give me some tips if you have any more.”

Not only did you almost beg him to suck him off, but you thanked him for it. He’s so hung up on that part that he didn’t register what you said about sending him the video. His brain stops dead in its tracks thinking about having that kind of footage on his phone to incriminate him further (but satisfy him during those particularly lonely nights) and so he doesn’t notice how close you’re getting to him until he feels your pillowy lips puckered and smacking against his cheek for a light kiss. He blinks, positive his face is rosy from the exertion and from how you just heated him up from a simple peck on the cheek, but you just smile and scoot off of him to stand on your feet. You’re already replaying the video and he can hear the depth of his own voice floating away behind him as you announce “I’m going to take a shower!”

He doesn’t attempt to stand up since he’s still coming down from his climax, the images from what just happened colliding together in his mind, flashing so bright to the point where he believes he’s never going to be able to forget this happened. The weird part is how unguilty he feels over the whole ordeal, contrasting greatly to the guilt he felt before from simply letting you stay here in his apartment with him. He wants to make some kind of sense of it, but he’s also been drained of energy and sanity, something he thinks he’ll have more of tomorrow morning. He’ll be suitable to contemplate all of this after getting some much needed rest, letting that weight down to lift up to his shoulders the next day instead. He’s grasping at the couch to help himself up when he hears a distinct ding from his own phone neglected at his coffee table. Austin gulps reaching for it, having a feeling of what the notification might be. He’s proven right opening your bland message thread together, the thumbnail of the video being the image of you on your knees in front of him.

He presses play at the same time that he hears the shower head turn on from his bathroom.

#austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #how to get over your ex #l4l.writes

[chlorinecake]

GIRL STOP!!! "You're being rough with me" I'M LOSING MY NONEXISTENT DIGNITY. I love that OMFG. I LOVE THIS. WORDS ARE LOST. Can I just say I absolutely love the flow of your writing! It's so good. GIRL IM ENVIOUS OF YOU'RE DIALOGUE SKILLS. "I wasn't trying to be mean when I did that, by the way" ~ "I just couldn't hold bac-" I moaned. That was so insanely good it literally hit perfectly. It's like heavily due to the way you were able to grasp the actual tension of the whole scenario in your words leading up to this. The build up was~ shit I spoke too soon. HE'S WHIMPERING OH LORD HAVE MERCY ON ME. Tell me why I can see his expression😐 YOU'RE REALLY DOING GREAT THINGS WITH THIS FIC ISTG. GREAT WONDERFUL FANTASIC SERVICE ❤️

*cannot contain my grin*

USE ME. RUIN ME.

*deep breathes*

(I don't want to swear here but I'm going crazy, like the curses are singing and chiming in my head)

Dialogue ✨ insane 🤯 I've come to appreciate the things I struggle with, and Dialogue is not my bestie but you're doing amazing that i am so so envious in a good way ofc. And I think this has got to be my favorite part so far | “What? You think I didn’t hear Wonbin and his vocal ass practically singing as you did… whatever you did to him…?,” |

I ended up reading this by chance and I don't regret it not one bit lmao.

─ Hayzie

NO BC OH MY FRIGGING GAHD, HAYZIE ??? … This legit feels like a queen just messaged me, HELP-

My cheeks probably looked like cherry tomatoes as I was reading this… your reaction was just so so genuine and lovely to hear from another fellow writer and briize 🥹

“YOURE REALLY DOING GREAT THINGS WITH THIS FIC ISTG” I’M THIS CLOSE 🤏 FROM PASSING TF OUT bc of you 😩 THIS IS TOO MUCH ADORATION, even for me :’] ~~

Also, you can curse here on my blog if you ever come back lol, but I’m SAUR glad you stumbled upon this fic bc your response literally made my fucking morning

Hugzies 🫂💕✨🌸

#[🐮] moots ~ #🪼. hayzie <3 #riize smut #wonbin x reader #wonbin smut #riize fanficton #imma be thinking abt this message for a long time 🫠

[everythoughtihave]

When Muggle Studies Met Potions....

You had barely slept, wondering what to do about your growing feelings for Severus; why did it matter if you liked him? But what is impossible scenario xyz happens? What if the students find out? What if the staff find out, they’re bigger gossips than the kids half the time…. You felt awful and groggy but managed to find your way to breakfast, barely dressed appropriately. You had an oversized jumper on with some form of leggings or joggers on the bottom, you were so tired you could barely tell what you had thrown on. “You look awful” was the first thing you heard that morning, making you feel brilliant as always… “aw thanks, Severus” you practically spat back. You regretted it immediately but needed coffee before you even thought about apologising. You poured a cup and took a sip and thanked the god that allowed people to invent such a beautiful drink from the beans. “Now that I’m somewhat caffeinated, I apologise for my sarcasm”. He didn’t seem offended in the slightest as he chuckled watching you savour each sip of coffee. “Now that you’re acting somewhat human, I have to ask you something” Severus hesitatingly stated. I was wondering if you would like to join me for a walk around the groups later” he asked, suddenly going shy. You weren’t sure how to react, of course you wanted to go but you also didn’t want to seem too eager either, but you must have responded positively because next thing you know, he is standing up to leave as he says “good, oh, and bring that phoney, music payer thing with you; whatever it’s called…. Actually, I’ll just come to your office and collect you to make sure you have it”. “Yes, okay” you replied sheepishly. The man must know you as you knew you’d forget it without him there to remind you.

Later that day, as you were getting on with some planning, when a shadow waltzes in. It was Severus. He told you to grab what you needed and the phone and whisked you outside. You started to just walk, not really paying too much attention to where you were going but just making sure you stayed with each other. You talked and walked; he then asked for the phone with the music (aka Spotify) open, then he managed to figure out how to search which made you feel a tiny bit proud for some reason. He clicked a song and let it play, it was a love song, that much was obvious. It was a soft Taylor Swift love song; you recognised it as soon as the vocals started. It was Daylight, a song you used to envious of, because you wanted a love like that; a love that was truly something, not just the idea of something. You also wanted to relate to it and the ending, to be defined by the things that you love, you at its very best. The more you listened, the more you realised how some lyrics mimicked you and Severus’ lives- to grow through dark, miserable, cruel times in life and love but then seeing the light at the end of tunnel and meeting someone who makes you believe in the best of people and love.

You both just walked in silence over to a bench, to sit and digest the song. After an eternity of silently listening, you both met each other’s eyes. You wanted to ask why he was making you listen to this but couldn’t, your nerves just wouldn’t let you. He broke the silence. “I know it’s not a song you expect from me… I heard it from a student, and it made me think of you so I thought I would share it with my ‘daylight’” You were speechless, which you could tell made Severus nervous. “I don’t even know what to say, Sev, I love that song, but it’s always made me jealous because that is all I’ve wanted. I am starting to feel like that song hasn’t set an impossible standard” Now he is awkwardly silent. “I know we have never been all that close, but I truly feel something for you, which is growing with every meeting, every dream of us, every shared glance.” You continued.

Severus stood up abruptly, holding his hand out to you. He helped you up and guided you to his side. “I simply must take you on a date then, shouldn’t I, Y/N?” He asked. You simply nodded, blushing like mad. “Well, I will need some time to create a lovely first date for us; as soon as I know what my plan is, I will find a way to tell you…” He let you know that much. He is sly and cunning at times, yes, but it was his mysteriousness and vagueness that frustrated you most. You couldn’t be too mad because he is a Slytherin so it is his nature. He walked you to your room and left you with a kiss on your hand. You got ready for bed, ready for yet another night of dreaming about Severus Snape.

#Spotify #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #fan fiction #severus snape #harry potter imagine #severus snape x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #snape x reader #wannabe writer #writing #snape fanfiction #hp fanfic #fanfiction #tumblr fanfic #taylor swift reference #taylor swift #daylight #lover album #everythoughtihave

[the-kipsabian]

I opened my folder if fav wrestlers and-- what are your hook thoughts? I don't remember if you've ever had/said any

honestly i havent been really vocal about him cause most of my thoughts are through osmosis and friends liking him lol, but i do think hes really neat. hes so talented for his age and i really love his character a lot, its such a good take and a really nice fit for him. tho im still shook every single time i hear him talk cause no way that voice is coming out of that face lmao

i am also super envious of his hair i wish that was me so badly

#thank you for asking! <3 #dykecassidy #wrestling musing #we are a hook positive zone yes lmao

[unabridged-melancholies]

I. I am not speaking.

II. I am not speaking, and the world around me, is becoming painful. I watch the curve of her mouth as she speaks, I count the number of seconds she inhales. This world, makes my bones ache.

III. Conversations with my therapist hurt less. We are in a structured place, I do not mind so much that she is distorting my psyche. She reminds me, I am not ill, enough.

IV. I did not speak, for six hours today. The thoughts in my head, flow through the jello-like structure, I have been told to call my brain. They speak. Their words bubble from their mouths, foams of nothing, drip down their chins. The yellow colors around them, make my bones, rattle.

V. I have nothing to say. These chains, bore no translations. The sun, melts away, giving rise to the night. The moon, is envious, of my silence. She speaks to the stars, reminding them of her archaic lover.

VI. The poets say, that Hades lover, accepted his kingdom of her will. I have crushed the seeds, of his rotten, offering. Red stains my fingers. Blackness, pools.

VII. I am not speaking. The ghost, comes for the second time in a row. Marring along this all too mailable, frame. I miss the comfort, of being sad.

VIII. I am not speaking. And I find it, easier. My demons chant a course of remorse, mute, has settled itself in my vocal cords. I wrap it about me, finding galaxies, in the bruises.

IX. Indifference, her lover. They fuck, on my medulla. She claws at her lover. And I, think of, unzipping my veins.

𝙊𝙉 𝙎𝙄𝙇𝙀𝙉𝘾𝙀 𝘼𝙎 𝙋𝙀𝙉𝘼𝙉𝘾𝙀 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝘿𝙀𝙋𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉. (7. 30. 17)

[cxntslxxp]

hiya lovelies ! i'm lis (21+, est, she/her) and i'm excited to introduce you all to my part-time hooligan, full-time late night radio dj - ✨jesse ✨

i'm going to apologize in advance as i am a smidge rusty when it comes to roleplaying on tumblr so pls forgive me. but i promise to not make it super obvious kjnfskjnds so feel free to just ignore me as i figure everything out again but inevitably screw something up but! give this a like and i'll hop on over into your dm's for some plotting or if d*scord is more your speed we can do that too.

» anyways -- all my info about jesse can be found HERE on his page.. but a quick tldr; jesse is basically a hooligan who ran away from home he got kicked out with the hopes of being able to live out his dream of working in the music industry somehow. right now he works at a local radio station as their night time dj but has bigger aspirations to one day become a producer.

» jesse is a very friendly and out there kid, he can be a bit blunt and his freewheeling/impulsive ways probably rub some people the wrong way so while there are people out there that like him, there are probably others that don't. it's also highly likely he's a little bit of a fuck boy?? bc he just hasn't really cared about anything before now but with his new job he's taking super seriously? hey who knows man.

✨ as for some random wanted connections? ✨

› some random music industry friend/acquaintance? i'd love for jesse to have some friend he can be truly envious of (not in a malicious way, just some healthy jealously). whether they're an idol, a producer or even a dance/vocal coach of some sort? someone in the music industry that jesse can aspire to work with in the future. › a hooligan friend -- someone who would be down to do stupid shit with him, be the devil in his shoulder and encourage his general hooligan behavior › the angel on his shoulder -- basically the good influence and the polar opposite of above. someone who encourages him to stop acting like a teenage boy for the most part lmao › some sort of found family shit -- this boy needs some actual people who care about him, big time. › some hometown friend/acquaintance? -- someone also from jeonju maybe?? former friends or they're just vaguely aware of each other, someone who knew jesse when he was still just seunghwan. › also literally anything else, i love all plots

again, i'm sorry this is lowkey a hot mess but i am so excited to start plotting with all of you <3

#jongno:hello #{jesse ; intro }

[cherryrainn]

Hello! could I please get a Helluva Boss matchup? multiple characters are okay, if you think it's fitting or necessary.

I'm 21, non-binary pansexual/romantic, and polyamorous (no preference for gender)

General personality stuff:

MBTI is INFP

Ennegram types 2, 4 and 8

Zodiac Taurus sun, pieces moon and rising

Not sure if appearance matters but- 5'3, chubby and kinda muscular, lots of scars on arms, chest, and legs, brown eyes/hair. Hair is shoulder length, wavy, and usually dyed. Fashion consists of graphic tees (with puns, memes, and trippy art) and jeans or shorts. I'll wear lots of different kinds of jewelry, and don't really have a set aesthetic.

Hobbies/likes- going to the gym, roller skating, playing video games, driving, listening to music (and singing along.. Badly), smoking weed, watching TV shows and movies, hanging out with friends, drawing, Writing, reading, going to museums/amusement parks, taking care of/watching animals, and analyzing media

Positive traits: my friends have told me that I'm smart, funny, sarcastic, polite, thoughtful, strong, patient, trusting/trustworthy, empathetic and compassionate. Pretty self-sufficient and independent/productive. My friends generally come to me for advice and I've been told I'm a good listener. I also like make myself useful (doing dishes, wiping down counters, laundry, etc) I'm passionate and very excitable and it makes me pretty talkative (when I want to be). Sociability depends on my mood. Sometimes I sit back and enjoy group dynamics, other times I participate more in conversation

Negative traits: tendency to be envious. I'm very self conscious/ insecure, and indecisive because of it. Bad habit of taking stuff personally and dwelling on issues that I should let go. can get annoyed/frustrated easily, especially if I'm overstimulated. also jumpy and gullible. Communication is very important to me in all my relationships, but when I get depressed, I tend to isolate.

Diagnoses: depression, anxiety, PTSD, and ADHD

Misc info: When I first meet people, I'm overly formal and will crack a few jokes, but once I'm familiar with someone, I cuss a lot and enjoy playful teasing, but I always encourage to set boundaries if they need to. I collect a lot of stuff. I have a Ton of comfort items- my posters, stuffed animals, collectible figures, etc. I'm a big over thinker. Big on current events and media analysis. I've got lots of vocal stims and am pretty fidgety.

I show my love through acts of service and words of affirmation. I enjoy doing things for my loved ones and making sure they can relax, feel safe, and be happy. I could talk about my friends for hours.

I know this is pretty long, so I apologize if it's overwhelming. Please don't feel pressured to answer. Much love to you 💛

I would pair you with….

Blitzo!

given your personality traits, interests, and preferences, i think you find a great match in blitzo. blitzo is known for his wit, humor, and sarcastic nature. like you, he's talkative, excitable, and enjoys playful teasing. his devil-may-care attitude aligns with your sociability depending on your mood. blitzo’s multifaceted personality, from formality to more casual interactions, resonates with your initial reservedness evolving into comfortable, informal exchanges.

while his hobbies may differ, his passion and energy could mirror your excitable nature.

both of you share a tendency to be envious and a struggle with insecurities.

he will absolutely come to you for advice, considering your empathetic and compassionate nature, friends are likely to come to you for advice. your good listening skills, combined with your thoughtful and patient approach, create a supportive environment for him to open up and seek guidance!!

both of you have your share of struggles—be it your mental health diagnoses or personal insecurities. this common ground could foster a deeper understanding and empathy between you two, making for a more supportive relationship.

blitzo’s sarcastic and has that sharp edge, but deep down, he's got a soft spot for those he cares about. sounds a bit like you, right?

and hey, acts of service and words of affirmation? blitzo might not say it outright, but deep down, he'd appreciate having someone who values connections and shows love through actions.

#matchups #matchup #helluva boss #helluva boss matchup #blitzo

[deus-ex-mona]

Even Our Private Lives Are Great Too!: Chapter 1

i gave up on the title (true story)

next part (chapter 2)

Yujiro and Aizo, namely the members of the idol unit LIPxLIP, would hang out with the members of Full Throttle4, a dance-vocal unit, in private.

One day, upon YUI’s suggestion of “Let’s get some ramen together!”, several of them met up and…

Yujiro: (This is… where we’re supposed to meet up, right?)

Yujiro looked around at his surroundings, to find Aizo and IV standing together a short distance ahead of him.

Yujiro: Good morning, IV.

IV: Yeah. Good morning, Yujiro.

Aizo: Oh, you’re finally here, Yujiro.

Yujiro: “Finally”...? But it’s not like I’m late or anything, right?

Yujiro: Thank you for… inviting us out for ramen today.

Yujiro: So then… where’s YUI?

IV: He’s not here yet. Seriously, he’s so…

Everything started back when YUI and Aizo went out to eat super spicy tanmen together. Aizo had a hard time with handling the terribly hot spice levels of the tanmen, and, as Yujiro had been unable to make it, IV had to be called in his stead. 

As they seemed to be meeting up for normal ramen that day, Yujiro felt safe enough to tag along with them.

Aizo: I had a pretty rough time last time. Isn’t YUI’s spice tolerance way too high?

IV: You may be right about that… I heard that you were on the verge of fainting, Aizo.

Yujiro: I can’t believe that… you almost fainted because of spice.

Aizo: You idiot! Only those who have eaten it would be able to understand! That thing wasn’t on, like, regular levels of spice or anything!

Aizo: It was so spicy that it burned to extremes! It wiped out half of my memory, for reals.

Yujiro: You’re exaggerating.

Aizo: Am not! I’m telling the truth here!

IV: Haha, sorry, sorry. I did tell him not to take it too far, though.

IV: As a form of apology for that, we’ll be going for normal ramen today. So there’s no need to be on high alert, okay?

Yujiro: Thank you very much. But it’s kinda unexpected for you to accompany us for it, IV.

IV: Haha, well, I guess so.

Yujiro: (IV sure is a man of many mysteries… I wonder what he’s like in his private life.)

Yujiro: (YUI probably remains the same throughout, in both his private and public lives, but I can’t picture what IV is like in private at all…)

Yujiro: (I’m curious… about what kind of guy he really is.)

Yujiro reasoned that he would be able to learn something that he could apply in his future activities, if he could just catch a glimpse of IV’s true self. The reason why he had even decided to tag along that day had been to take advantage of this golden opportunity to find out more about FT4, after all.

Yujiro: (Alright…! I’ll be sure to uncover… the reasons behind their amazing performances today…!)

Yujiro cast a glance at Aizo, to see him grinning brightly, as though he was merely looking forward to the ramen that they were about to have.

Yujiro: (He’s so… oblivious… I’m so envious of his carefree personality.)

Looking away from Aizo in exasperation, Yujiro caught sight of a person making his way towards them from a distance.

YUI: Hey guys! Sorry for the wait!

IV: YUI… You’re late.

YUI: Ahaha. Sorry, sorry. I was so excited that I couldn’t fall asleep last night, yannow~?

IV: Just like a kid on the night before a field trip, no?

YUI: I’m not some brat! But, well, I guess I kinda felt like one though!

YUI: Oh right, thanks for coming today, Aizo and Yujiro!

Yujiro: No, rather, the pleasure is all mine. Thank you very much.

Aizo: We’ll be in your care for the day.

YUI: Yeah! Let’s head straight off then!

YUI: …IV, is it really okay for you to eat ramen, though?

IV: Yeah. I’ll be fine for today at least. I’ll tag along.

YUI: Awwright!

YUI: To be honest, I’m really happy that you’re coming along to get ramen, IV! But don’t overdo it, okay?!

Yujiro: (“Overdo it”...? Is IV trying to maintain his figure or something? As expected of Mr. Stoic over here—.)

#the temptation to title the event story as 'sherlock yujiro and the double date' was real- #yuuai-ivyui double date go!!! #<-unoriginal tl tag for this bc my brain cells stopped working :( #yujiro's monologuing made me miss rio's pov :( come back rio!!!!!! #fedora translations4 #just honeypre things #may edit this later idk it's really late and i wanna sleeeeeeep

[wonjns]

Don't mind me but based from the conversation with your (horny) anon.

What if, threesome with Wonwoo and Jake??

Damn, am I that horny with them too??

Gosh, I'm thinking of 2 scenarioes.

1. Where the reader and the both of them are collabing for the song. I mean, Wonwoo for rap, Jake for Vocal, the reader for dance. Then, during the recording, they both caught the reader reading smuts about them (Insert your smuts *winks*) and they visit the reader's room and decided to make his dream come true.

2. Where the reader is being trained by the both of them and basically in return they and the reader will, you know that already.

Gosh, what if the reader is as buffed and handsome as them. I feel so envious! What does it feel like to be in there shoes, like as hot and cute as them??

Is this too much? Anyways, we understand you!!!

OMGOTMGMT JAKE X READER X WONWOO WTFFFF I DIDNT EVEN THINK OF THAT

whewhwheheh theyre both hot ideas lmaooo 1 or 2,, 1 or 2 🤔 might just have to do a combo of both !

#💌flwr;reqs #omgmfmgmjg #jake and wonwoo omfg.... omg..

[signedkoko]

Hello, me again, sorry lol,

I was wondering, could I please get a Helluva Boss matchup? multiple characters are okay, if you think it's fitting or necessary.

I'm 21, pansexual/romantic, and polyamorous

General personality stuff:

MBTI is INFP

Ennegram types 2, 4 and 8

Zodiac Taurus sun, pieces moon and rising

Appearance: 5'3, kinda chubby, a few tattoos, somewhat muscular, tan, brown eyes, brown hair (it's usually dyed or bleached), and a few piercings. I've also got a fair amount of scars. I'm pretty plain, I'm ngl. Fashion consists of graphic tees (with puns, memes, and trippy art) and jeans or shorts. I'll wear lots of different kinds of jewelry, and don't really have a set aesthetic.

my friends have told me that I'm smart, funny, sarcastic, polite, thoughtful, strong, empathetic and compassionate. I can be jealous/envious (but I've been working on not letting it affect my relationships). I have a bad habit of taking stuff personally and dwelling on issues that I should let go. I don't love being around new People and can get annoyed/frustrated easily, especially if I'm overstimulated. I do my best to stay patient, though. I'm also very jumpy and gullible. I've been told that I'm a bit too trusting, and it's very easy to appeal to my emotions. Communication is very important to me in all my relationships.

My friends will usually come to me for advice, and I've been told I can be a good listener. I tend to daydream and can be pretty anxious. I've been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, PTSD, and ADHD. When I first meet people, I'm overly formal and will crack a few jokes, but once I'm familiar with someone, I cuss a lot and enjoy playful teasing, but I always encourage people to tell me if I go too far or set boundaries if they need to.

I collect a lot of stuff. I have a Ton of comfort items- my posters, stuffed animals, collectible figures, etc. I'm a big over thinker. I can be pretty independent and self sufficient (sometimes) but I'm also very very insecure and doubt myself a lot. I'm pretty excitable and enjoy talking about pretty much anything. Big on current events and media analysis. I've got lots of vocal stims and am pretty fidgety.

I show my love through acts of service and words of affirmation. I enjoy doing things for my loved ones and making sure they can relax, feel safe, and be happy. I could talk about my friends for hours.

Hobbies/likes- roller skating, playing video games, driving, listening to music (and singing along.. Badly), smoking weed, watching TV shows and movies, hanging out with friends, drawing, Writing, reading, going to museums/amusement parks, taking care of/watching animals, and analyzing media

I hope this isn't too overwhelming, and I apologize if I overshared a bit. Please don't feel pressured to answer.

Take care 💛

You got...Stolas!

There's no one better for you than the Ars Goetia member himself, who is one of the most considerate and caring people behind the curtains.

Stolas absolutely adored literature, but doesn't have much hand in media. Despite that, he would love to trade stories with you and look over your writing- keeping anything you write for him- and would encourage you to introduce him to your favourite shows or movies so he can speak about them with you.

His love language is mainly quality time, he can listen to you speak for hours, or tell you all kinds of things about his history. Watching movies, reading in one another's company, every second counts. He can be a bit clingy because of it, but once you tell him you are off somewhere he backs off and leaves you be. The reunion always makes it seem like he hasn't seen you in decades, though.

Stolas never kept any typical pets, unless you count his carnivorous plants! They warm up to you, as well, and you become one of few people who can feed them without any scratches. Stolas trusts very few people to care for them properly and is stern about their caretaking- but fortunately you don't struggle with it at all!

Part of his home is grandiose collections of items, mostly valuables only royals could get their hands on. Nevertheless, he keeps a shelf or two for your items and treats them with just as much respect, all stuffed animals and figures are regularly cleaned and kept safe and sound for when you need them, and your posters are likely framed with gold and glass to keep them protected and to suit his aesthetic.

If anyone is good at keeping things relaxed, it's him! Whenever you feel overwhelmed or stressed, he can take for a stroll through the stars, where everything is relatively silent, calm, and beautiful.

Even better is that Octavia finds you a lot less stressful than Stella, and thinks a lot of the media you're into is pretty neat. She doesn't speak much with you, but youll catch her taking pictures with your things a lot and see the posts later that have some pretty flattering captions.

Expect lavish parties where you get to dress up and then sneak out together when it gets boring, and lots of activities and errands to go around with Stolas doing.

Author's Note - Your runner ups were Moxie + Millie, followed by Striker! Thank you so much for being my first request and being so considerate <3

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #matchups #hazbin hotel matchups #helluva boss matchups

[wet-towel-socrates]

Yuu Composes Themes for the Overblot Gang

Part 2: Azul, Jamil, Vil

Click here for part 1 and what my self imposed rules are.

Azul: Organization XIV

Okay this one is kind of a stretch but it's what I've got to work with. With this piece, composer!Yuu is much more focused on conveying Azul and the Tweel's aura. I personally love their dynamic, but I think Yuu still fears them and does not trust them, and so it comes out in this song. Here they lay out how it felt to walk into Azul's den for the first time, after hearing countless rumors and warnings never to go there, bc he and the Leech twins will eat them alive. It felt like they just signed over their life the moment they stepped in. The twins are watching them as they cautiously try to navigate the lounge, and no matter where or how many times they encounter Azul and the tweels, it always feels like the first time.

The actual piece is the theme for an organization of beings that cannot feel emotions, thought to be empty husks. The castle they live in is bare and everything is blinding white, and when a meeting occurs they sit in thrones that encircle and tower over you, literally. Everything about them, and by extension their theme, embodies the feeling of judgemental gazes glaring down upon you, knowing you are nothing but a small ant in their lair, yet there's something terribly wrong here that they're not telling you about. Something quite sad and somber. And I felt like the Mostro Lounge gang could relate to that. Then the bells ring at the 3:20-3:30 mark and it feels like toll of whoever unlucky enough to sign a contract with them that their time is over and they need to pay the price.

Jamil: The Road of Trials

Jamil was the only character that didn't have multiple song choices. It was this one from the start.

The name. I mean come on. Yuu would want to focus on Jamil's hidden personality as well as his day to day struggles, so they would compose this song to be lively but not in a jovial way. It's more like right off the bat he is being pulled in all different directions all at once by Kalim (like the 25 sec mark with the switch in flute, cello, and sitar[plz correct me on this]). It's all overwhelming (0:50) but he manages to keep his calm (1:00). There's still so much going on, but he holds on steady is the main theme of this piece. He has so much against him, and so much left to power through now that everyone knows how capable and untrustworthy he is. The cymbals sprinkled in the piece (0:42 and 4:01) also quite fittingly sound like rattle of a rattlesnake which gets extra points for me.

I think the change at 2:40 could represent how Yuu truly sees Jamil. There is so much more to Jamil that he's forced to hide and should someone get to see it, it would be a beautiful sight. But what really sells this track is the last 20 seconds of it: the booming drums and the crescendo of the strings feel like a omen for something harrowing, like a warning for his eventual OB. It's beautiful and also frightening, like a chill down Yuu's spine. It would be like their reminder for everyone listening that darkness sleeps within Jamil's heart.

Vil: The West Wing

I am the most iffy on this one. I thought "Possessed by Disease" by Keiichi Okabe had a perfect intro, like this festering wound that he's been scratching for years finally consumes him in envy, but it has a loop as well as vocals so I had to turn it down. As far as I'm concerned, "A Beautiful Song" IS Vil's theme and would be what Yuu would want to do, but it has lyrics and a loop so it can't count :'( Goddammit So this is what I felt fit the general vibe.

It's a film score, and I know Yuu would want Vil's to sound that way as just a little easter egg for him. As for the piece itself, Yuu would want to focus on the duality of Vil, as in this beautiful accomplished person everyone sees versus the hideous, envious feelings he keeps under wraps. I liked how classic this sounded as well, like you can tell this is a fairy tale taking place in a stone walled castle, something I can picture Vil himself inhabiting. The violins and harp within the first 1:30 both make the piece feel haunting and beautiful, and the song often goes back and forth between it.

After that when the beast in the movie makes his appearance, it starts to pick up steam and we hear violin cues (2:05 and 2:15) that Yuu could use to represent Vil's descent into seething hatred for Neige. And from there it just gets turbulent and self destructive as the Evil Queen herself. I picture between 3:20-3:30 that the cymbal and horn cues are Vil throwing things and destroying their room as they wonder what it is they're missing. What does Neige have that he doesn't?

#Youtube #twisted wonderland #twst yuu #twst wonderland #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #vil schoenheit

[jashconfessions]

I am honestly jealous of this white Australian man's vocal range. I wish I could growl that hard and shit. His voice is fucking amazing. I am envious of that man in the best way possible

dude chonny is so talented im so jealous

#// confession

[clinicallyinvisible]

Something that really messed me up as a kid was listening to my mother hate herself.

She hated her body. Always saying she was fat and her boobs were too small and that she wanted implants one day (never happened). She also expressed dislike about my appearance to me. My posture and my acne were big ones. I was taught to hate my appearance because my mother hates her appearance and disliked mine. I look just like her. I always have. If you put a photo of me next to a photo of my mother at the same age we look like the same person. So to listen to her be so vocal about hating how she looks was so fucking damaging to me. And I don't know how she couldn't have realized that. I don't understand how she didn't see that by hating herself she was teaching me to do the same. She always treated me like an extension of herself, wanting me to do the things she wanted to do, but couldn't. She always pushed me to do things like be a nurse (no) and to marry a nice Christian boy (no) and have a bunch of babies (NO). She also never cared to get to know me because she had this version of me she had created in her head and she was still trying to mold me into that. She refused to accept that I wasn't and would never be that person and that I am my own person. She has refused to get to know the real me.

I have wanted so badly to have a real relationship with my parents, but I don't think it'll ever happen. I am too many of the things they hate. They are too full of hate. I just crave love and they don't want to offer that to me unless I be what they want me to be. I am not valuable to them as the person I am.

My parents are getting older. And I'm terrified of losing them, I'm terrified of them dying. Because I don't have a relationship with them at the moment and I want one so bad. And if they go before we fix things (if we fix things) I think it might ruin me a little. I just want so so badly to have my family back and to be loved by them. Right now I don't see it ever happening and that hurts a lot. My mother doesn't care, tho, if I'm hurting. She's made it clear that her feelings are the only ones that matter. I have to sacrifice mine in order to have a relationship with them and I'm just not willing to do that.

Idk why I'm thinking about this today, but I am and it sucks. Maybe because Kristy and I were taking about family the other day and we talked about how found family just isn't the same support system as blood family and I guess that really resonated with me.

My dad is getting closer and closer to the age his dad was when he passed away and I guess it's making me afraid of losing out on that relationship. Losing grandpa was already hard enough tbh. I never got to know him properly. I don't want it to be the same with my dad. But my parents are not kind people. And god that sucks. I am so so envious of everyone that can have a half decent relationship with their parents. I yearn for it so badly.

I'm afraid to talk to them because of all this stuff lately in the media about trans people being targeted. I don't want to hear what they have to say about it. I know it's going to be bad. I know it's going to be so so disgusting and bad. And they still don't know I'm nonbinary and honestly I don't know if I ever wanna explain it to them. I mean, I'd love to be able to come out and for them to use my new name, but I know they won't understand and they will refuse to use my name and pronouns. They will always call me she and they will always deadname me. I know there is no point and no hope for them.

My sister is also queer, but somehow she tolerates them. I don't understand how. Probably because she's the golden child and can do no wrong by them and she is so perfect. She gets treated so much better than I ever have by them so I guess she isn't as bothered by it, but I have received basically no decent treatment from them my whole life. I've always felt like a burden and a failure to them. It's funny how my sister and I have had such contrasting childhoods and experiences with our parents.

[huenjin]

envious.

pairing — han jisung x reader

word count — 4.4k words

ratings — 18+

genre — smut, includes jealous sex, big cock!jisung, daddy kink, possession kink, slight female masturbation, deepthroating, blowjob, gagging, degradation, spanking, marking, cunnilingus, bulge kink, choking, unprotected sex, creampie.

note — i just put all my fantasies down here, just because it’s my first smut for my bias? i guess, shit.

The keys clink loudly against the metal holder and you narrow your eyes at your fiancé. He shoves his hands into his glossy leather pockets of his pants as he walks past you, eyes avoiding yours at all cost until you yell, “Is something wrong?”

He raises an eyebrow, eyes glaring at your figure before he scoffs, “Of course not.” He walks towards the refrigerator to pull out a bottle of ice cold water and uncapping it, he chugs down the liquid as it is, the cold water hitting his throat with a sharp sting thanks to the temperature difference. Still painfully obvious that he is clearly ignoring you, he throws the empty plastic bottle into the trash can and walks towards the room the two of you shared. You follow your fiancé, hot on his heels as you smirk.

You, obviously, know what is bothering him.

He pulls open the door harshly, the wooden door hitting against the adjacent wall in such a loud sound that it resonates through your whole house and you frown.

“Don’t take out your anger on the door, Jisung.”

“Then who else do I take it all out on, princess?” He turns. Jisung tightens his fist in the thought of what had just happened back in the restaurant, veins popping clearly and you mercilessly rake your eyes over them. He takes a steps closer to you, pulling out his right hand from his pocket. Placing it against the wall that he has you now pressed against, he brings his face so close to you that you can see the shine in his eyes and the light flicker of a smirk on his lips. He whispers against your lips, “Should I take it all out on you, huh?”

“What’s your problem?” You move your face forward, nose brushing against his and glaring at Jisung back.

“What you did and how you talked to the waiter,” he backs himself up, teeth clenching and lips pressed against each other. “And the looks you kept giving me when the waiter wouldn’t fucking stop complimenting you. You exactly know what you fucking did, don’t you?”

You chuckle, taunting Jisung a bit more. You place your hand on his broad chest and pushing him back, you strut your way towards the bed to sit cross legged before the hotheaded man tonight.

“Why? Did it bother you?”

Jisung chuckles, walking towards you, “You wanted this to happen, didn’t you?” His right eyebrow shoots up as he looks at you questioningly. “You were asking for this, weren’t you? Such a naughty fucking girl.” He pushes his hand through his hair and his voice drops octaves lower — something Jisung usually does when he gets into the mood, something you sinfully loved. “You made me so jealous. So mad.” He undoes the first two buttons of his shirt, shirt pulling apart and exposing his soft skin to you. He bends forward and enunciating every word clearly, he says, “You fucking love reminding me how much I want you every single minute. All to myself.”

You gulp in anticipation and find yourself already wet thanks to his voice, panties sticking to your core as you move back slightly. Jisung questions, eyes unwavering from yours, “Who’s my baby girl?”

You nod and Jisung hisses, “Words, princess.”

“I am. I’m your baby girl.”

“That’s my good girl.” He stands, smirking so wide that you know he’s prepared hard and long for tonight. You squeeze your thighs at the thought. “But you’ve been a little naughty tonight and Daddy’s here to remind you who you belong to tonight.”

Your fiancé pushes you back slightly against the soft mattress of the bed as he hovers over you, his hand going towards your throat and wrapping around it perfectly, fingers squeezing into the flesh and your lips part. Your hand moves down as you try slowly moving your fingers against your covered core, trying to provide some relief through some friction.

“Aren’t you enjoying this a bit too much, princess?” Jisung licks his lower lips as his eyes trail down your body, stopping only at the sight of you rubbing yourself. “My fingers wrapped around your fragile throat and you pushed against the bed.” You bite your lips and Jisung quickly holds your face harshly with his other hand, angling your face to face him directly. “Look how badly you want me, how badly you want me to fuck you into this bed until all you can think and scream is no other man but me.”

“This is what you wanted, right?” His laughter is so low and evil and you run yourself even further under Jisung’s scrutiny, the slight asphyxiation of his fingers digging into your neck, almost tightening the knot harder. “You got it, baby girl.” He soothingly rubs your neck, letting go of it for a minute before holding it harsher. You gasp loudly, your fingers moving as if it had a mind of its own.

“I’m going to fucking rail you tonight.”

In a flash of a second, Jisung’s mouth is on yours, his thick fingers moving from your neck to your jaw, gripping at it to move your face the way he wants to. He lips latches onto yours hard as he sucks and kisses till he slips his tongue, lapping at your cavity, gliding against your tongue, leaving you moaning and gripping onto him.

“D-Daddy,” you groan into his mouth, hand gripping a fistful of his white shirt, pulling him closer to have more of him. Your lips move against his. It is messy and needy and you hardly mind the teeth clashing with each other. Your fingers continue rubbing against your core, thighs squeezing till Jisung pulls back from you and holds your hand, pushing it away from your core. You let out a sob.

“Do I look like a joke to you?” Jisung’s stare hardens. “You think you’re going to have it easy after acting like a slut the whole night in front of daddy?”

“But Daddy—”

Jisung pushes up your little black dress, exposing only your thighs that glisten from all your wetness that dripped down and the minute you answer him back, his hand comes down against the thick flesh, pain stinging through you and stimulating you only more.

“Don’t talk back to Daddy. You should know better than this, princess.” He rubs the reddened flesh softly and places a kiss on top of it, only to pull back and slap harder, jolting your body upwards and letting out a gush of slicky wetness into your panties.

“What a dirty girl,” your fiancé laughs, rubbing his nose on your panties, sniffing before licking one thick stripe up your core, causing you to shove your body down onto him in want for more.

Jisung pulls himself up, getting off the bed and you whine at the sudden loss of body heat, arm instinctively going upwards to pull him back. He unbuttons the rest of them on his shirt and gestures at you to come closer. You crawl towards the edge of the bed, coming face to his crotch. You drop your arms down, supporting your body weight and quivering on all fours like a prey before its predator.

“Whip out my cock.”

Your eyes widen and you look up at Jisung over his questionable phrasing. He sniggers, “Go on.” You bend forward, knees digging into the mattress. With fumbling hands, you unbuckle his belt, leather hitting your cheek and you huff. You remove it and drop it down on the floor, metal clinking against the white tiles. You unhook the pants and pull the zipper down, and in one motion, you grip on the edge of the pants along with his briefs, pulling it down to his mid-thigh, cock hitting his solid abdomen before slowly erecting before you.

You quickly take hold of it, hands wrapping around his thick girth, moving your hands up and down his length teasingly, a small sigh leaving your lips. Jisung doesn’t bother to be careful or delicate with his actions. He takes a fist full of your hair as he pulls it down to lift your face up. Your grip on his cock tightens and you lick your lower lip as you look at your fiancé. Something about how you can look like so much of a tease and still look like a delectable mess gets him so turned on that Jisung doesn’t know what to do.

“Use your mouth. Warm it up so that I can fuck your throat.”

“Yes, daddy,” and you take the tip of his cock, complying to his order. Your tongue circles around the rim, swallowing the salty taste of precum before pushing yourself further down his length, your fingers digging into the mattress as Jisung holds your hair still in his hand.

The flat of your tongue presses against his underside, rubbing along the prominent vein that throbs out as you slowly move your head back and forth his length slowly and yet barely being able to take in his whole length in your buccal cavity.

“Baby,” Jisung gasps, his fingers clutching your hair tightly, pulling at your roots slightly. “Oh my god.” You hollow your mouth, bringing suction into play immediately when his voice shrills a little. “Your mouth—” Jisung has always been vocal during sex. He has informed you when and how you make him feel and if anything, you are so grateful because it helps you do the best for the man you love. “Feels so fucking good— oh shit!”

He holds your hair and shoves you down his cock, suddenly, and you choke on it, gagging around his length, throat tightening and tears spilling from your eyes. He moans so loud that you rut into the air and hold his thighs, nails digging into his thick flesh, “Deeper down that throat, oh fuck, oh shit. Yes, baby girl.”

Jisung’s eyes narrow as he throws his head back in pleasure. You feel him twitching in your mouth with every minute you take him deep down your throat, gags hitting off the flesh and dying in your mouth. He pulls out barely before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused. He pulls your hair slightly, mumbling hoarsely, “Look at me, princess. Look at me.” You look at him, eyeballs rolling back a bit. “Tell me, baby. Could that waiter have that huge cock going down your throat? Could he?” You shake your head slightly to indicate no as he pushes in slightly, hips thrusting, your cheeks hitting his length. “No? That’s right, babygirl. No one can fuck you like I can. No one. You are all mine.”

You willingly move forward, nails digging further into his thigh as you take him deeper down your throat, your gag reflex kicking in. Jisung laughs, “You are such a slut. Isn’t that why you teased me by using that waiter there? Oh, I believe in you, baby. You can fit this cock down there so perfectly. Oh yes, you can.” He thrusts forward again after pulling out barely. Jisung lets go of your hair, it falling down your shoulder, and pushes the black dress over your lower body, exposing your arse.

Smack. It’s loud and clear and takes you by a surprise, hurling you forward, taking him in. His hand soothes the redness of your arse, “That’s my good girl. Fuck, fuck,” and a guttaral moan leaves his lips. His hand slaps across your butt cheek, the loud sound resonating through the walls of the room. You moan around his length, saliva dripping down your mouth. You are a whole mess for this man.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the white walls of your bedroom, followed by the deep moans and sighs emitting out from your fiancé’s lips as he fucks your mouth mercilessly. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway, your throat constricting and eliciting a groan from him.

“Back in,” he thrusts, only after letting you breathe for a short while and after hitting you across your butt cheek, happy at the sight of the red skin. “Fuck. Take this huge cock down your throat.” He caresses your face with his other hand. “God, you’re such a good little girl. Oh yes, you are.” You pull your head back, gasping for air and Jisung coos at how much of a good girl you are. “Take me back in. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh, just fucking using that throat all for my cock.” You hollow your mouth narrowly. “Oh, fuck. Oh, you are such a good little girl, taking my cock all the way in so well.”

With every thrust, you see how coated in your saliva Jisung’s cock is and you can only picture how you looked with your saliva around the face, with his precum smeared by the side of your lips. Jisung finally lets go of your hair, pulling himself back, removing his cock from your mouth, leaving you on your fours with swollen precum stained lips, red eyes with tears streaming down. A hot mess just for him.

Jisung squats down and taking your face in his hands, he kisses your forehead, speaking against your sweat coated skin, “You were so good. Such a perfect girl and all mine. I love you.”

You lift your head up and look at him, whispering back, “I love you too, boo.” Jisung kisses you softly, trying to calm your fast breathing down. Like a magic potion of strength being handed down, you hold the open ends of his white shirt as you pull him deeper into the kiss, his tongue lapping against yours.

He pulls back and stands up. You sit on the mattress, eyes falling down on to the white stains spoiling your pretty black dress and you frown. That had been one of your favorite dresses and now it is stained all thanks to Jisung being petty over the cute waiter that slipped his number on a paper despite seeing the obvious big diamond ring on your finger.

“Strip down,” and you listen. Your hand moves back to unzip the dress and it falls off your shoulder. “Slowly,” Jisung reminds you. You raise an eyebrow but choose to not question, chuckling slightly under your breath as your finger loops over the strap, dragging it down painfully slow. Till Jisung stops you midway and pushes you down onto the bed, body moving a little above. He hovers over you and taking your lips in for another kiss, he tells, “Keep the dress on for a short while. Want it on you as I reward you.”

He drags his lips down your skin, peppering kisses against the vast expanse and then, Jisung is sucking hickies by your neck — bright red ones that turn purple almost in a while and you are gasping, hands wrapping into his hair from behind as you bite into his shoulder sharply to suppress the moan.

His hand squeezes your breast over the dress that threatens to slip completely. “So pretty my princess is. She’s all mine.” In a flash, Jisung has pulled your black dress up to your abdomen, exposing your creamed panties. You bite your lip and suggest, “I’ve been good, Daddy. Please.”

“You sure have, princess.” Jisung kisses your thighs, biting and sucking at it as he places purple marks all over, whispering how you are all his for a lifetime to come. He hooks his fingers onto your panty straps and asks, “Lift your hips up,” which you follow, lifting them up only for Jisung to pull your panties down and exposing your wet, slodden lips thanks to him.

“So fucking wet,” he presses a kiss against it. “All for me. Who made you this fucking wet, princess?” He licks a strip up, lapping against the wetness, taking in and swallowing as much as he can as he waits for a response.

“You, Jisung. You,” you moan out. Your hand stretches out to reach for his hair, tugging at it to contain yourself. Jisung’s face is buried into your core. The room is filled with lewd noises and your moans. Jisung licks another stripe before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking on it, loud noise of suckle resonating and causing you to move your hips slightly. Jisung however, clearly hates it when you do that as his teeth clasps one of your lips and puts slight pressure. Your legs shiver and you groan. His one hand also places your hips in position.

Jisung’s lips chase after your wet ones, tongue protruding out and small whines leaving him that does nothing but comfort you. He licks and licks, thumb pressing against your clit tapping at a steady pace and your mind is void with nothing but hope of Jisung bringing you to insanity.

“Could that stupid waiter ever eat you out like this?” Jisung questions as he pulls his head back, mocking you and you narrow your eyes out, huffing and like a brat, you say, “Changbin.”

“What?” His face hardens.

“The stupid waiter has a name. It’s Changbin.”

“You got his name?” Jisung looks so annoyed that you don’t even know why you wanted to push his buttons this far. Jisung pulls himself back, sitting on his ankles and looks at you, jaws tightened and teeth clenched.

“He had a name tag—” Jisung doesn’t listen. He’s too far gone to listen. Hot with anger and seeing nothing but red because his wife-to-be knows the name of the waiter that hit on her, he bends forward and holding the middle of your black dress with both his hands, he rips it clearly till the bottom, the sound of the tear shrilling against your eardrum. He pulls it away from your body and you stare in surprise, barely being able to say, “My dress!”

“I’ll buy you another one. One that stupid Changbin hasn’t laid his eyes on.”

Jisung is a lot harsher now and maybe this is what you wanted. Him to take you — to rail you like there is no tomorrow. Just you and him and these hours. He sucks on your now exposed breasts, licking around the areolar. His other hand massages the other breast and you are desperately in need of some friction against your clit which is left unattended because you decided to be a brat — because you decided to ruin your own reward.

“Jisung, please fuck me.”

“But do you think you deserve that?” He pulls back and he locks his gaze with you. “Or maybe you should call Changbin?”

His hand creeps his way upwards, wrapping around your neck as he angles your face to the side before breathing against your jawline, only to tug at your pinna and whisper in a deeper, hoarser tone, “Or maybe I should just leave you like this tonight?”

“Daddy, please,” you switch instantly, begging at the sudden thought of your fiancé actually leaving you like this. “I don’t want anyone else but you.”

Jisung sniggers and quickly spreads your leg. Holding your ankles, he pulls you closer. White shirt still donned on him and pants briefs long gone, Jisung takes you by a surprise as his cock enters you. You expected him to prolong your punishment but rather he gives in quickly, which leads you to your next worry — what does he have planned up his sleeve now?

You moan Jisung’s name out so loud as he pushes himself into you, filling you up inch by inch. Every single time your fiancé enters you, it feels like it belongs there, like no other man would ever be able to make you this full, this complete. You raise a hand to hold onto the sweaty shoulders of the man looming above you, arms casually draping over him as your fingernails rake over his broad tattooed back. Another moan is ripped from your body when Jisung lifts your hips up slightly to reach deeper into you with every powerful thrust.

Jisung is barely halfway in, large and thick, slightly purple and darkly red tinged cock stretching you around it. You are gasping for air at how huge he is and how there is still more to go for him to be completely in you. Every single time, it feels like you are filled to the limits, stretched entirely around Jisung’s large cock. Your mind goes blank with pleasure as your fiancé somehow manages to push himself further into you. You are furiously gasping for air, nails digging into his flesh that you worry you might have broken into the skin. The burning pain is tinged by a want and a lust, and over how good it felt as your body is pushed to its limits.

Jisung lets out an animalistic growl as he bottoms out in you, leaning down to capture your lips in his own, passionately, as he drags the kiss out to let you get used to his cock, something that you still need time over, after all these years. The kiss is dominating and brutal, sharp teeth nipping your plush swollen lips until blood is mixed with your saliva. You moan into his mouth, trying to move around his length, squeezing around him.

Jisung pants when he pulls away, soft grunts releasing from his lips and you find yourself growing wetter with every sound that leaves him. You hook your legs around his waist and grind up against him. Jisung places you back against the bed, trying to slowly pick up a steady pace. He shallowly thrusts into you, each movement scraping against your sensitive walls and pulling moans from your lips.

“Ah, fuck, daddy, you make me feel so good, filling me up, stretching me,” you spill as pleasure surges through your body. “You fill me so well, so warm. Move faster, please.”

Jisung lets out a low, dark groan and slammed back into you. His cock gets impossibly deeper as he seats himself to the hilt, leaning over you with lust filled eyes. Jisung hovers over you like a dark cloud, covering your entire body with his own much larger one. He grabs one of your breasts, squeezing it as he pushes himself into you, occasionally hitting you till your very end with his long cock. You bite your lips, hips moving along with him as you scream, “Daddy, ah. Fuck, daddy.”

“You belong to me,” Jisung roars out, hitting your spot over and over again as he fucks you mercilessly — fucks you stupid. “You are all mine.”

“I’m yours,” you scream. Your body bounces with his against the bed, your arms looped around his neck. Tears flow down your face at how wide Jisung stretches you with his cock and you can’t stop screaming, “I’m yours. I’m yours.”

There is a bulge in your stomach where Jisung’s cock reaches the hilt, stretching you in a way that has you shuddering with pleasure and crying from the pleasurable pain of being stretched so wide. You fucking love it. You love the feeling of being stretched and filled to the brim by Jisung. The burning pain that comes with each sharp drag against your walls. The name that leaves his lips — your name. Nothing could possibly be better than having something so large inside of you. Jisung tops it however, by wrapping his big hand around your neck, fingers digging into the flesh and choking the living air out of you by a bit before softening it.

There are no words left to articulate for Jisung as he leans down and bites into your neck, pistoning his hips to hit that perfect spot inside of you with every harsh thrust. He does as you expect and as you like. The hand over your breast moves upwards and wraps around your neck, asphyxiating you. Babbling words fall from your lips at the constant shift between too empty to too full, of your fiancé covering your body and taking it so brutally as his own, all while you gasp for air, vision blurry with tears spilling and head empty.

“Can—” he thrusts so hard that you grip on to him for the life of you, knots of threads soon to snap. “Can that fucking Changbin make you feel like this? Never.” He thrusts so quick that you barely have the time to think. Jisung voices his possession over you with every thrust.

“I’m the only one that’ll fuck you like this. Only one to fuck your brains out, to fuck you stupid. Only one to taste you and devour you. Only one to love you till the universes collide and ever after that.”

He soon falls to loud moans and you, to garbled names of Han Jisung. He kisses you, taking all your moans as his, hand loosening around your neck. Jisung presses one of his hands lightly against the bulge each time he pushes it all the way in. He knows that you are close and digs his finger into your neck as he thrusts harder, pubic bone hitting against your clit rhythmically.

“Jisung!” It’s a desperate prayer, begging at him to hold onto your sanity. You come around his cock, the white flash spreading under your eyelids and you’re weeping. Your heart swells and you feel the rushing oxytocin clouding your brain. Jisung thrusts sloppily into you, chasing after his own orgasm. You can tell that he is close as you wrap your weak legs tightly around him, squeezing around his thick, large cock in you. His hips stutter and you feel him come undone in you. Thick fluid shooting in you, coating your walls with it.

He pulls his cock out slowly, your cum and his mixed, leaking out from you and staining the bedsheets underneath. The two of you breath rapidly as Jisung collapses over you and you chuckle lightly, kissing his earlobe and whisper, “I only love you in this world, baby.”

“I know. I was just being stupid and petty. I couldn't—” He lifts himself off and drops to your side, pulling you closer into his chest as he caresses your hair softly. Jisung tries to explain and you hush him shut.

“I loved it. I love this. And I love you.”

“In this for a whole lifetime, of course.”

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