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stylesispunk · 3 days ago

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Blind faith | part iii

Priest!Joel Miller x night club dancer! Reader

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

summary: the aftermath of Joel finding you are a stripper and you reveal your truth to some extent. A day trip to the beach and how Joel realizes something.

wc: 9,5k

warnings: age gap (Joel's in his late 40s and reader late 20s), forbidden love, angst, mentions of death, mentions of injuries, sexism, so much tension between joel and reader, they falling harder, fluff.

a/n: Hello loves! Here's chapter 3. I was kinda excited for this one but I'm kinda more excited for the following one. I hope you like this and how the story is developing. I'm really loving writing it. Please share your thoughts, and please take note that reader still have secrets to share. Please, share your thoughts with me I LOVE READING THEM. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

You were in despair the moment you left the stage. Joel’s stare still stung on your skin, burning everywhere as if you were ashamed to have been trapped after the lies you had made up. You warn, pushing Carmen with no intention behind.

“Hey, hey, Estrellita, where are you going like this” She asked, placing her hands on your shoulders that seemed to ease its fire.

“I need to-I need—to I need to…Joel, uhm, the priest, she was here and he saw me.”

“Who? What the hell was he doing here?” she asked, surprised at the information.

“Someone must have told him about me.” You replied, the thought of him changing his mind towards you hurt more than any wound you could have.

“Okay, breathe.” She nodded her head, trying to erase your anxiety, “You weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“I’m—”

“Why do you care so much about what he thinks?” she questioned.

“Because he has been good to me. I don’t want him thinking I was playing with him” you replied, without being able to ease your heart stammering against your ribs.”

Carmen’s gaze softened, but there was something knowing behind her eyes. “And what if he does?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

You swallowed hard, the thought twisting something deep inside you. “Then I—” you hesitated, feeling the burn of unshed tears behind your eyes. “Then I don’t know.”

Carmen sighed, her hands squeezing your shoulders. “Estrellita… men like him, they don’t come here. But you have to ask yourself something—was he here because he wanted to judge you, or because he wanted to understand?”

You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know. But I saw his face, Carmen. He looked—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head.

“Hurt?” she guessed.

You flinched, looking away.

Carmen let out a soft laugh, not unkind. “That man is already gone for you,” she murmured.

You didn’t want to hear that. You couldn’t.

“I need to go,” you said instead, stepping away from her grasp.

“Go where?”

“I—”

“Rest.” She said, “Let him to process this and then you can go and talk to him tomorrow, okay?”

You hesitated, but ended up nodding.

“Okay.”

Three days had passed and there was no sight of him. At least no in the way you wanted it. You tried looking out for him at the church even, to his house, but everything seemed to be in vain.

Three days. Three days of trying to catch his eye, only for him to look away. Three days of waiting outside the church, only for him to slip out the back. Three days of silence where there used to be warmth.

And it was driving you mad.

Joel had never been like this with you. He had never shut you out like this before. Not when you first met, not when people whispered about you, not even when he wrapped his arms around your waist during the night you feel asleep together on his couch. But now? Now, he was slipping through your fingers water in your hands.

You found yourself outside the church again, fingers curling into fists at your sides, fidgeting your jeans as you took a steadying breath. The doors were open, the flickering glow of candlelight casting long shadows inside.

He was there. In front of the altar, on his knees, praying.

You knew it before you even stepped inside, and when you saw him, your breath caught.

He must’ve heard your footsteps because he tensed. But he didn’t turn around.

“Are you going to pretend I’m not here?” you asked, voice steady despite the storm inside you.

He exhaled, but still, he wouldn’t look at you.

“I’m not pretending,” he said, voice rough.

You scoffed. “Really? Then what do you call this?”

Silence.

You stepped closer. “Joel.”

He finally turned, and the look in his eyes nearly knocked the air from your lungs.

Regret. Want. Something deeper, something you didn’t want to name.

“Call me father, not Joel” he said, shaking his head. “Not anymore.”

The words cut through you like a blade. Not Joel.

Not anymore.

You blinked, your throat tightening as you searched his face, waiting, hoping for some sign that he didn’t mean it. That this was just another wall he was building between you, one you could tear down if you only pushed hard enough.

But his expression was set in stone.

“You don’t mean that,” you said, voice quieter now.

He exhaled sharply, looking away like it hurt him to see you standing there. “I do.”

Your stomach twisted. “Why?”

“Because this has to stop.” His voice wasn’t unkind, but it was firm. “This… whatever you did to me.”

You shook your head. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re a liar. You seduce your way to people. I’m sure of it. You dance in that way for men and for women, you are what? A stripper? It was fun, wasn’t it? To walk inside this place but not being more than a sin?”

He could have slapped you in your cheek and it would hurt less. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you could only stare at him, stunned.

Joel had never spoken to you like this before. Not even when he had been cautious of you, when he had been wary and careful with his words.

This was cruelty.

A slow, sharp ache curled in your chest, pressing against your ribs like a wound you hadn’t braced for. Your hands trembled, and you clenched your hands “Is that what you think of me?”

Joel didn’t answer. He just looked at you, his jaw locked tight, his fists at his sides like he was trying to convince himself of his own words.

You swallowed hard, blinking back the sting of tears. “You think I was playing with you?” Your voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it, something raw and unsteady. “That I… what? Tricked you? Made you feel something you didn’t want to feel?”

His silence told you everything. You let out a bitter, hollow laugh, shaking your head. “You’re a coward.”

That got a reaction. Joel’s gaze snapped to yours, something dark flickering in his eyes. “Watch yourself.”

“Why? You think you can hurt me more than you already have?” You took a step forward, your voice trembling now. “I didn’t do anything to you, Joel. You were the one who kept looking for me. You were the one who made me feel—”

You stopped yourself, pressing your lips together, shaking your head. He didn’t deserve to hear it.

“I should have known,” you murmured, voice quieter now, laced with something almost mournful. “I should have known you’d find a way to make me the villain as everyone else.

Joel swallowed, his throat bobbing. But he didn’t say anything.

You took a shaky breath, willing your voice to stay steady. “I never wanted to hide this, Joel.”

Then you turned away, walking toward the door.

But before you left, you hesitated, your fingers tightening on one of the pews. You didn’t turn around when you spoke again.

“I hope you can sleep at night,” you whispered. “There is no pray you can use to feel better about yourself.”

The church fell into an eerie silence. He stood frozen at the altar, his grip tight around the pulpit as the heavy wooden doors groaned shut behind you. Your words still rang in his ears, they feel like bleeding.

"There is no prayer you can use to feel better about yourself."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. But what was he really mad about? Was it the fact that you had hidden this part of yourself from him? Or was it something he didn’t want to name?

His fingers flexed against themselves. He told himself it was about you, about the way you had let him believe you were someone else, perhaps pure. Someone untouched by the kind of life he had walked into that night at the club. Someone untainted.

But deep down, in the part of himself he didn’t let see the light. He knew that was a lie.

It wasn’t the lie. It wasn’t about the way you danced, about the way you let people look at you, about the way they whispered your name in the dark.

It was pure jealousy. A slow-burning, sickening jealousy that clawed at his ribs, that twisted inside him until he couldn’t breathe. Because he had wanted to be the first. The first to see you like that, to watch you, to take in the way you moved, the way you let your body speak without uttering a single word.

The first to know the weight of your touch, the warmth of your skin, the sound of your voice when you said his name and not just Father.

But he wasn’t. He would never be. Joel squeezed his eyes shut. The pulpit felt wrong beneath his hands; the church suddenly too quiet, too empty.

He had spent years preaching about self-control. About discipline. About resisting temptation.

But no one had ever told him what to do when he was the one being tempted.

When the sin didn’t come from you—but from him.

And that was the worst part of all.

The music pulsed through the walls, the usual hum of the club coming to life as the night stretched on. But tonight, it felt distant. Muted. You ears ringed.

You sat in front of the mirror, fingers resting in your lap, staring at your reflection without really seeing it. Your costume was half on, shimmering fabric draped around you, waiting to be fastened. But you couldn’t bring yourself to finish.

Because no matter how much you tried to shake Joel’s words from your head, they clung to you like ghosts.

"You seduce your way to people."

"I’m sure of it."

"It was fun, wasn’t it? To walk inside this place but not being more than a sin.”

Your throat tightened.

You had never felt this ashamed of yourself before. Not for dancing. Not for the way you made people feel about you. The stage had been your home long before any church and its priest. It was the one place where you had control over your body, over the way people saw you. This time it was different but still was the closer you had.

And now? Now, it felt like your skin was too tight. Like if you stepped onto that stage, it wouldn’t be you anymore. It would be whatever Joel thought you were.

A hand landed gently on your shoulder, and you jolted, blinking out of your thoughts.

Billy stood beside you; his brows furrowed in concern. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Estrellita?”

You tried to smile. Failed. “Nothing.”

Billy scoffed. “Don’t lie to me, cariño. I know that look.” He knelt beside you, adjusting the hem of your costume with practiced ease. “Who do I have to fight?”

A soft, breathy laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “You? Fight?”

He grinned. “Don’t underestimate me. I might be small, but I’m scrappy.”

Something in your chest loosened, just a little.

Billy had been one of the first people to welcome you into the club, one of the first to make you feel safe. You had learned his story in pieces—how he had been thrown out of his home when his parents found out he was gay, how he had wandered the streets for days before stumbling into this place.

He had found his family here. His home.

Just like you had. And for the first time that night, you felt something like steadiness return.

Maybe Joel didn’t understand. Maybe he never would.

But Billy did. Carmen did. Everyone who worked here saw you and they still loved you.

Billy squeezed your hand, his voice softer now. “You don’t have to dance tonight if you don’t want to.”

You looked at him, at the warmth in his eyes, the quiet understanding there. Maybe you didn’t feel like dancing tonight.

But you weren’t going to let Joel take this from you.

You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders. “I want to.”

Billy searched your face for a moment before nodding, helping you fasten the last of your costume.

As you stepped onto the stage, the lights warmed your skin, the music vibrated through your bones.

And just like that, you let the weight of the night fall away.

The music pulsed through your veins, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. The stage lights bathed you in warmth, illuminating the shimmering fabric of your red suit as you stepped forward. The crowd murmured in expectation, eyes fixed on you, waiting for you to come.

So, you danced. You let the rhythm take you, let your body move as it always had, fluid, effortless, free. The music carried you, and for the first time that night, you felt like yourself again.

Until you saw him here again. Your breath hitched mid-spin.

Joel.

Hidden in the corner of the club, dressed in dark clothes, a cap pulled low over his face. His hands wrapped around a glass of whiskey, but his gaze, his gaze was all on you.

The weight of it burned, heavy and unreadable as if he was tracing marks with fire over your skin.

Your stomach twisted, your limbs faltering as a shockwave of something sharp and unbearable ran through you. He wasn’t just watching, he was consuming you with his stare, with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

And just like that, your legs gave in, ankle wobbling.

Your balance tipped.

A sharp gasp cut through the music as you stumbled, your heel catching awkwardly against the stage and you fell. The floor met you hard, the impact sending a jolt up your spine, stealing the air from your lungs.

Silence. The club held its breath.

The murmurs started then, a mix of concern and amusement rippling through the room. Billy was already moving toward you, but before he could reach you, someone else was there.

Joel.

His hand was on your arm before you could blink, strong and steady, lifting you to your feet like you weighed nothing at all.

Your heart pounded as you stared up at him.

His jaw was clenched, his brows drawn together, his breath uneven.

You should have been embarrassed. Should have been angry. But all you could think about was why.

Why was he here? Why he has come back here after all he said?

Why was he looking at you like that? And why, after everything, did he still come running the second you fell?

Joel’s grip on your arm was firm but fleeting. The moment he was sure you were steady, he let go like your skin had burned him. His face was unreadable, stormy eyes, tense jaw, lips pressed into a hard line.

You barely had time to take a breath before he turned away.

No words. No explanation. Just gone.

The moment he disappeared into the shadows, Billy was at your side, helping you the rest of the way up. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, searching your face.

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

But your hands were still trembling.

Carmen appeared next, her gaze flicking toward the direction Joel had vanished before settling on you with knowing eyes.

Neither of them said a word about him. They didn’t have to.

The music had already started up again, the club moving on as if nothing had happened. As if you hadn’t just fallen, as if the man you’d spent days trying to reach hadn’t just been here, watching.

You exhaled sharply, forcing your shoulders back. If Joel wanted to act like this meant nothing, like you meant nothing.

You weren’t going to chase him. So, with the eyes of the room still on you, you turned toward the crowd, lifted your chin, and danced.

Back in the dressing room, the adrenaline had started to wear off, leaving behind a hollow ache in your chest. You wiped at the sweat on your brow, breathing in deeply, trying to ground yourself.

But before you could even sit down, Billy and Carmen were already on you.

Carmen leaned against the vanity, arms crossed, one perfectly arched brow raised. "So... what was the priest doing here?"

Billy, standing beside her, nodded, arms folded tightly. "Yeah, and why was he dressed like some guy sneaking into a bar for the first time?"

You ran a hand over your face, sighing. "I don’t know."

Carmen scoffed. "Bullshit. He was watching you, clear as day."

Billy narrowed his eyes. "And then he just left when you fell? Didn’t even say anything?"

Your stomach twisted. "No."

Carmen let out a low whistle. "Damn. That man is tortured."

Billy leaned closer; his voice softer. "And you?"

You hesitated. What were you supposed to say? That seeing Joel there had rattled you to your core? That his stare had nearly burned through you, stripping you bare in ways you weren’t prepared for? That part of you had been desperate for him to stay?

That would be admitting too much.

So instead, you shook your head. "It doesn’t matter."

Billy and Carmen exchanged a look, but neither pushed further.

“Yo conozco a un hombre enamorado cuando lo veo” (I know when a man is in love when I see him” he said. Leaving, to help another of the dancers with her dress.

A man in love?

Later at night. You were back at the house you shared with Carmen. After the show and all the emotions storming in your head, you were getting ready to go to sleep, removing, the makeup, brushing your hair and slip into an oversized t-shirt you wore to sleep.

You were at the kitchen, sipping a cup of warm tea, while the clock shown two a.m. in the morning. You were about to go to the bedroom when a knock at the door stopped you.

You stood frozen in place, your fingers still curled around the mug. The knock at the door echoed through the quiet of the house, cutting through the remnants of the night like a blade.

Your heart pounded. No one came to see you at this hour.

Taking a slow breath, you stepped toward the door, pausing just before your hand reached the knob. Another knock. Firmer this time. You swallowed hard and opened it.

Joel stood there, bathed in the dim glow of the streetlamp. His dark eyes flickered over you, over your loose dress, the curve of your collarbone, the tired set of your features. He was still wearing the clothes from earlier, his shirt wrinkled, his hair slightly mussed like he had run his hands through it too many times.

Neither of you spoke, but you stepped back, just enough to leave the door open. An invitation.

Joel hesitated. His hands curled into fists at his sides like he was fighting himself, but then, he stepped inside.

The house was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single oil lamp casting shadows along the walls. Carmen’s door was closed; she was still out, unaware of the storm brewing in the doorway of your shared home.

You crossed your arms, your t-shirt brushing against your skin. “You shouldn’t be here,” you murmured, echoing his own words.

Joel’s jaw tightened. “I know.” But he didn’t leave.

You watched him, the way his shoulders rose and fell with slow, measured breaths. His eyes never left yours, dark and unreadable.

He looked tired. Like he hadn’t slept in days.

You swallowed. “What do you want?” then you pause, “Why were you at the club tonight?”

Joel let out a slow breath, running a hand over his face. “I—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

You tilted your head. “You don’t know?”

His gaze flickered down your frame before he tore it away, shaking his head. “I just—” He exhaled sharply. “I see you everywhere. When I close my eyes. When I—” He cut himself off again, rubbing the back of his neck. “It won’t stop.”

Your throat tightened.

"I'm sorry" he began, "what I said about you...I was wrong. You're not—You're not at all of that. You're not a sin. That was so wrong of me to say."

He took the scene in front of him, red eyes, glisten and red from all the crying. He had seen the way he had broken your heart in a cruel manner, throwing daggers at you without even thinking, without hearing what you had to share.

There were no words left for him to make this better.

"I-I thought I could trust you." you replied, barely hearing your own words,"you were so kind to me all this time but you weren't capable of hearing my truth. Instead you heard people calling me names and cursing my name with venom, and that father, that makes you as shitty as all people in this fucking town."

"I-"

"Leave, father. Don't waste your words in a whore like me, you could get burned." An as a final statement, you closed the door leaving him standing there, speechless and with a heart so heavy he could barely stay stand in place.

Joel didn’t move for a long moment. He stood there, staring at the closed door, your words ringing in his ears.

You could get burned. Perhaps he already had.

The weight in his chest was suffocating. He had come here thinking he could make it right, that his apology, his regret, would be enough to fix the damage he’d caused. But there was no fixing this, was there?

Because you were right.

He had judged you without listening. He had let his own fears, his own jealousy, fester into something ugly, and he had taken it out on you.

His hands curled into fists at his sides. He wanted to knock again, to beg you to open the door, to please let him try—But he had lost that right.

With a sharp inhale, Joel forced himself to step back. To turn away.

The night air was cold when he stepped outside, but it wasn’t enough to dull the ache in his chest. He walked through the empty streets of town, past the glowing streetlamps and shuttered windows. He should have gone home, should have locked himself away and prayed for forgiveness.

But instead, he found himself back at the church.

The place that had once given him solace now felt suffocating. He stood in the center of the room, looking up at the altar, at the cross above it.

What had he done? He sank onto one of the pews, dropping his head into his hands.

Maybe this was his punishment. To pray until his heart stop bleeding.

Next day, Joel’s voice carried through the church, steady and memorized words that felt empty.

He had given hundreds of sermons before, about faith, about redemption, about the weight of sin and the promise of forgiveness. But today, the words felt hollow in his mouth. He spoke about grace. About salvation.

But his mind was elsewhere.

On you.

He kept glancing at the doors between sentences, expecting—hoping—to see you walk in.

But you never did. The pews were full, the congregation nodding along, but the one person he had been searching for wasn’t there.

He had told himself it was for the best. That his anger, his frustration, his jealousy—God help him, his jealousy—had been justified. That staying away from you was the only way to rid himself of this ache, this temptation.

But every day that passed without seeing you felt like a slow unraveling, like a thread pulled too tight, ready to snap.

And now, standing at the pulpit, words leaving his lips with no real meaning behind them, Joel realized. He didn’t know what the hell he was even talking about anymore.

Continuing with the day, the town square had come alive with laughter and soft music, the scent of roasted nuts and fresh bread hanging in the air. Stalls lined the streets, filled with handmade crafts, sweet pastries, and bottles of drinks, lemonade and children running between the booths, their carefree joy a stark contrast to the weight pressing down on your chest.

You walked slowly, keeping your head high, but you felt it, the judgment, the whispers.

Women clutched their baskets tighter as they passed you, their gazes cold and cutting. A few of them turned their backs as if your mere presence tainted the space. You weren’t surprised. You had expected it after that night. After Joel. After he had spoke about sin.

What you hadn’t expected was the men. The ones who had watched you under the dim lights of the club, whiskey glasses clutched in their hands, their eyes heavy with hunger. They weren’t turning away.

They were staring. Lingering.

The way their eyes traced over you made your skin crawl, the same gazes that once felt like power now left you feeling exposed.

You swallowed hard and pulled your shawl tighter around your shoulders, your heart pounding.

The sun hung high in the sky, warming the cobbled streets as you wandered through the people, stalls lined the path, displaying fresh produce, homemade bread, and steaming pots of food. The scent of roasted corn and spices lingered in the air, mixing with the distant sound of a guitar being played by a street performer.

You stopped at a stand where an older woman stirred a large jar of lemonade, the condensation on the glass glistening in the light.

"Una limonada, por favor," (A lemonade, please?) you said, reaching for your coin purse.

The woman’s stirring slowed, her eyes flicking up to meet yours. Her mouth pressed into a thin line, and she didn’t move to pour the drink.

Behind her, another woman, one of the same ladies who had spoken to Joel that morning at the church,leaned in, whispering something into her ear. The vendor’s expression hardened.

"Sorry, I don’t speak Spanish” she said flatly, setting down the ladle. "But there is no more left."

You blinked, glancing at the nearly full jar. "I can see it full."

The woman wiped her hands on her apron and turned away as if you weren’t standing there at all.

Heat crept up your neck, not from the sun, but from the weight of the stares you suddenly felt around you. A few of the other vendors had gone quiet, their conversations dying as they turned to watch. You recognized some of them, women who had smiled at you in passing before. Now, their faces were unreadable, their expressions edged with something closer to disdain.

You exhaled slowly, setting your coins back into your pocket. "A la mierda con esto” (Fuck this) you murmured, stepping back.

You turned, walking away with your head high, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing how much it stung.

The whispers started as soon as your back was turned.

“She is shameless”

"And then she was fine, as if nothing had happened."

"After what happened in the church..."

Your fingers curled into your palms as you picked up your pace, pushing through the small crowd until you were free of them.

It wasn’t the first time you'd felt like an outsider in this town. But today, it felt different. Today, it felt personal, like daggers thrown in your direction.

You didn’t go far. Just enough to be away from the whispers, away from the stares that burned into your skin like embers.

A quiet little street opened up ahead, lined with a low wooden fence overlooking a field. The wind swayed through the tall grass, the golden tips catching the sunlight. You sat down, letting your hands rest on the rough wood, the warmth of the day still clinging to it.

And then, finally, the tears fell.

You bit your lip, staring at the horizon as your chest tightened. You had told yourself you wouldn’t let them get to you. That you wouldn’t let their judgment, their disdain, push you down. But here you were, shoulders trembling, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your blouse like a child.

It was everything. The weight of the past meeting the present, the uncertainty of the future. The ache of missing your old life.

The sound of footsteps on gravel made you stiffen.

You wiped your face quickly, trying to gather yourself before turning your head.

Joel stood a few feet away.

His brows furrowed, eyes scanning your face, taking in the redness around your eyes, the slight shake of your hands. His jaw tensed.

He had that look again, the one he always got when he was trying not to feel too much.

"You following me now, Father?" you asked, your voice rough from crying, trying to mask the way your throat still ached.

Joel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he sighed, stepping closer.

"I saw what happened," he said, voice lower, like he didn’t want to say it too loud. Like he didn’t want to remind you of it.

You scoffed, looking away. "Guess the whole town did."

Joel was quiet for a moment. Then, he sat down beside you, elbows resting on his knees, staring out at the field like you were.

"You don’t have to prove anything to them," he said finally.

You swallowed, blinking rapidly. "I know."

"Do you?"

You turned your head sharply, meeting his gaze. He didn’t look smug, didn’t look like he was trying to challenge you. If anything, he looked… concerned.

And for some reason, that made your chest hurt even more.

You exhaled shakily, dropping your gaze to your lap. "I just—" Your voice wavered, and you bit the inside of your cheek before shaking your head. "It doesn’t matter."

Joel didn’t push. Didn’t demand you say more. But when his hand came to rest lightly on your back, a steady warmth between your shoulder blades, you nearly broke all over again.

You didn’t move because Joel’s hand was warm, grounding over your back. He didn’t rub circles into your back, didn’t try to pull you closer, didn’t say anything at all. Just let his touch be there, solid, steady, unshaken by the weight of your silence.

You sniffed, staring out at the field, blinking quickly to stop more tears from falling.

"You should go," you murmured.

But Joel didn’t move.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "They already don’t like me. And if they see you sitting here—"

"I don’t care," Joel interrupted, his voice firm.

You turned to look at him, brows furrowing. "Yes, you do."

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking. "Maybe I do," he admitted. "But not enough to leave you sitting here like this."

The words hit something deep inside you, something you weren’t ready to face. You pressed your lips together, looking down at your hands.

Joel sighed beside you, shifting slightly.

"They’ll get over it," he said. "Eventually."

You let out a dry, humorless laugh. "You sure about that?"

A pause.

"No," he said simply. "But people forget. They always do."

You swallowed, staring at the dirt path beneath your feet.

"I don’t know how much more I can take," you admitted, voice small.

Joel was quiet for a long moment. Then—"You wanna get outta here?"

You looked at him, confused. "What?"

He nodded toward the dirt road, toward the open fields beyond the town. "Come on. Let’s take a drive."

You hesitated. "Joel—"

"Come on, let he said. "Just… somewhere else."

You searched his face, trying to understand him.

"Do you want to get out of town for the day?" He asked, struggling to take words out your lips.

"What?" You asked, dumfounded.

"Get out. You and me. We can go to the beach for the day, wherever you want.”

"Are you for real?"

He stood, offering his hand out for you. Joel's hand hovered between you, fingers slightly curled, waiting. His jaw was tight, his shoulders stiff like he was bracing himself for rejection.

"I know I don't deserve it," he said, voice rough, "but just—just for the day. No town, no church, no whispers. Just us."

You stared at him, searching for a lie, a trap, but there was nothing but raw sincerity in his face.

For a moment, you thought about telling him to go to hell. About slamming a door in his face again, making him sit with the mess he had made.

But then, you thought about the weight pressing on your chest, the suffocating stares when you walked through town, the way you felt like you couldn't breathe anymore.

And you thought about him. About the Joel you had known all this time.

The one who had been kind. The one who had made you laugh. The one who had looked at you like you were something worth knowing, something worth.

You exhaled sharply. "The whole day?"

His throat bobbed as he nodded.

You hesitated for only a second before reaching out and slipping your fingers into his. His palm was warm, calloused, solid.

"Okay," you said quietly. "The whole day.”

The drive through California's highway felt warm, the sun spilling golden light over the dry hills and endless stretches of road. The hum of the engine was the only sound, the occasional breeze ruffling your hair as you drove, the windows rolled down. There was something about the air, the space, that felt different—like you could breathe for the first time in days.

Joel kept his eyes on the road, but you could see his hands grip the wheel tighter than usual, his knuckles white, like he was trying to hold onto something. You weren't sure what, but his silence was louder than anything else, and you couldn't help but steal glances at him now and then. His jaw was set, his face a little more drawn than you remembered, but there was something else—something softer about the way he looked at the road, like he was giving himself permission to leave everything behind, even if just for a moment.

When you arrived at the beach, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filled the air, soothing and constant. Joel pulled into a parking spot, then reached into his pocket for some change, heading to a nearby stand to grab ice cream. You lingered by the car, watching the ocean stretch out before you, the sand warm under your feet as you took in the vastness of it all.

Joel returned a few moments later, holding two cones. "Here," he said, handing you one, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Do you like chocolate?"

You nodded, accepting the cone. "Yeah, thanks."

He sat down next to you on the sand, his shoulders relaxed for the first time all day. The warmth of the sun on your skin felt comforting, like it was inviting you to leave everything behind and just exist for a while.

You took a bite of the ice cream, the cold sweetness a perfect contrast to the heat of the day, and sighed. For the first time in so long, you weren’t worried. You felt free.

You took another bite of your ice cream, the sweetness swirling in your mouth, but the question still lingered in your mind. You glanced at Joel, watching him for a moment as he stared out at the ocean, seemingly lost in thought. The steady rhythm of the waves only seemed to deepen the silence between you two.

After a few moments, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. “When was the last time you saw a woman in those clothes?” you asked, your voice quiet but clearly talking about the night he saw you at the club for the first time.

Joel turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing as if the question caught him off guard. He blinked once, then twice, as though trying to piece together the question in his mind. Finally, he sighed, his eyes dropping to his ice cream cone, his voice low.

“Never,” he said simply.

The word hung in the air like a truth neither of you were quite ready to face. You didn’t know what to say to that, but you felt something stir in your chest. Something raw. Something familiar, but unfamiliar at the same time.

You turned your gaze back to the ocean, letting the waves crash against the shore as you processed his response. Never. You wondered what that meant, what it meant about him, about you, about everything that had happened between you both. But the questions were too heavy, too complicated for this moment.

But then, “Do you want to know the real reason why I became a priest?” He asked, looking at you.

You looked at Joel, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. His gaze was fixed ahead, but there was something in the way he spoke, something raw that made you realize you were hearing a part of him he hadn’t shared with anyone.

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

He hesitated, his hand gripping the edge of his ice cream cone a little tighter. He didn’t meet your eyes, but you could feel the weight of his words coming, like a burden he’d been carrying for a long time. “I became a priest because a woman broke my heart.”

Your throat tightened, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, so you just nodded, silently urging him to continue.

“My… what happened?” you finally managed to ask.

Joel’s lips pressed into a thin line as he took a deep breath, then slowly began to speak, each word coming out heavy, like it was wrapped in years of pain.

“We were together since we were sixteen. I married her at 21.” His voice cracked just slightly as he said it. “We were going to have a kid together. One night, we got mad at each other. She took our daughter and drove away… said she needed space.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to imagine what that must have felt like. But Joel kept going, his voice steady but distant.

“Then there was this accident…” His voice trailed off, and for a second, you thought he might stop talking. He swallowed hard before continuing. “My daughter died. And I—”

You could hear the pain in his voice, even if he tried to keep it under control.

“She was one.” He said, “Adeline survived but my Babygirl didn’t.” his voice almost breaking.

“I stopped seeing grey hair and holding hands in my seventies on a porch,” he said, his words quiet but heavy. “I just never thought I would be able to love someone else that way.”

For a long moment, you couldn’t say anything. His words hung in the air like they were too big to process all at once. You could feel the weight of everything he was carrying, the layers of grief and loss, and the way he was trying to put his life together again, piece by piece.

But then you felt it, how much of this story wasn’t just about his wife or daughter, but about everything that had happened between you two. How much he had been struggling with the things he’d said, the things he’d believed about you. How much pain he was still holding on to.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you whispered.

He gave you a soft, almost imperceptible nod, but he didn’t say anything more. Instead, he just let the silence stretch between you both, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like there were walls between you. It just felt like two broken people, sitting side by side, with a shared understanding that didn’t need to be spoken out loud.

You sat there for a moment, the cool breeze from the ocean ruffling your hair, the sound of the waves crashing rhythmically against the shore. The weight of Joel’s story lingered in the air between you, but the silence felt different now, less heavy and more... shared. As if, for just a moment, both of you could exist in this small, quiet space without the world pressing down on you.

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say to something so raw, so painful? But your heart ached for him in a way you hadn’t expected, and before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his hand.

His hand was tense at first, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to let someone in. But when he felt the warmth of your touch, his body seemed to relax, and slowly, his fingers unfurled. You let your hand settle in his, fingers entwining as the quiet of the beach surrounded you.

“How old were you back when it happened?” you asked, fearing he would get offended by it.

“Twenty-two” he replied, simply.

“Why did you think you would never love someone again?”

“Because love hurt people.” He said, “It makes you dumb and afraid of yourself and I didn’t want that happening to me ever again.”

“But maybe there was someone out there. “

“I’m forty-eight, darling. There is no one for me out there.” He said without glancing at you but at the sea because deep down, he knew that someone was sitting next to him, and he was afraid to admit he had sacred vows at such young age when his perspective was tainted by hurt.

“I don’t have the answers for you, Joel,” you said softly, your voice steady, despite the storm of emotions swirling inside. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He didn’t respond right away. He just looked at you, his thumb brushing over your hand slowly, thoughtfully. You could see the battle inside him, the conflict of wanting to open up but being so afraid of what that might mean.

Joel’s eyes met yours, his gaze intense yet searching, as if trying to read the words you hadn’t spoken yet. You felt a strange pull inside, the urge to break through the silence and share something that had been buried deep within you for a long time.

He nodded slightly, his voice a whisper, “Yeah, if you want to share.”

You took a slow breath, your fingers still tangled with his, the connection between you grounding you in this moment. The ocean breeze was soft against your skin.

“I’m a ballerina” you said.

Joel’s eyes widened slightly, his thumb still brushing over your hand in a soothing, almost unconscious rhythm. He hadn’t expected that. The quiet intensity in his gaze softened just a bit, as if he were seeing a side of you that he hadn’t imagined before.

“You’re a ballerina?” His voice sounded surprised, as though the revelation was both unexpected and fascinating to him.

You nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Yeah, I was. I went to university and studied dance. It wasn’t just a passion; it was everything to me. I put in hours, years… But things happened. Life happened."

You looked out at the horizon, the ocean stretching endlessly in front of you, as though it might somehow offer the words you were struggling to find.

“I taught little girls how to become dancers too,” you continued, your voice a little quieter now. “I used to love watching them, seeing the joy in their faces when they learned something new. They were like little versions of me, full of dreams and possibilities. But…”

Joel’s expression softened further, and he leaned back slightly, taking in your words with a mix of empathy and understanding. “What happened?” he asked, his voice gentle, as though he were offering you the space to say whatever you needed.

You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to share the full story, but the words came anyway. “Achilles’ heel” you said.

Joel raised an eyebrow, leaning in just a little, intrigued by the sudden shift in your words. “Achilles’ heel?” he repeated softly, almost as if testing the phrase on his tongue.

You nodded, your eyes tracing the rhythm of the waves as you tried to gather your thoughts. “Yeah,” you began, your voice quiet but steady. “I got that injury and everything stopped.” you stopped, biting your lip as if the words themselves were too sharp to say.

You were lying a bit, but not entirely.

Joel’s gaze softened, his face etched with understanding as he listened to you, his body now angled toward you, as if every part of him was leaning in to hear your truth.

Joel’s eyes never left yours, his expression full of empathy, as if he could sense the weight behind your words, even if you weren’t saying everything. His hand tightened slightly around yours, a silent reassurance. “I get it,” he said softly, his voice steady. “The thing that defines you, that you think is everything... and then it’s gone. Like the ground beneath you suddenly disappears.”

You nodded slowly, the tightness in your chest spreading as you realized how much that injury had really taken from you, even if it wasn’t just physical. It had been more than a torn muscle or a strained tendon—it had been the loss of something you’d built your identity on. The thing that had once made you feel like you had a purpose, a place in the world.

“Everything stopped, yeah," you said again, more to yourself than to him. “I didn’t know how to live without it. I still don’t really know who I am outside of it. I’ve spent so much time trying to get back to that... and sometimes, I wonder if it’s even possible.”

Joel’s gaze softened further, and for a moment, the world around you felt distant, like it was just the two of you, suspended in the quiet of the beach. His voice, when it came, was calm, but it held a depth of understanding that surprised you.

“You’re more than that. More than just what you’ve done or what you’ve lost,” he said, his words carrying a weight of truth. “I can see it. You’re still you, even without all of it. You don’t have to keep chasing something that doesn’t define you.”

His words hit harder than you expected. You hadn’t realized how much you had been holding onto the idea of your past, of who you used to be, instead of seeing who you were now. It was easier to cling to something that felt familiar, even if it hurt.

“Dancing at the club is the closer I got to live from what I love” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability in it raw and real.

Joel’s thumb brushed across your hand again, the softest of motions, but it felt like the most grounding thing.

Joel’s gaze never left yours, his expression gentle but unwavering. The weight of your words seemed to settle between you, hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. He squeezed your hand softly, as though offering comfort, or perhaps just a reminder that you weren’t alone in this.

“That’s... that’s something, you know?” he said quietly, his voice filled with understanding. “I can see how much it means to you, even if it’s not the same as what you imagined. You’re still living it. It’s just... in a different way.”

You nodded slowly, the warmth of his words sinking in. "It’s not the same, though. It’s not what I dreamed of when I was younger, when I thought I’d be teaching classes, running my own studio, surrounded by little girls learning to dance. But at least when I’m on that stage, it feels like I’m close to who I was before... like a part of me hasn’t completely disappeared."

Joel’s thumb continued to move over the back of your hand, the quiet gesture a grounding presence in the midst of everything swirling inside you. He didn't speak immediately, letting the silence hang there, as though giving you space to breathe and reflect.

“Sorry for what I called you before” he said, looking at your eyes.

You met his gaze, a small, uncertain smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Sorry for what you had been through. I think you’re stronger than you realize. Stronger than you’ve given yourself credit for.”

Joel’s eyes softened, the weight of your words settling between you both, filling the space with a quiet understanding. He inhaled deeply, as though your response had lifted a burden he hadn’t even realized he was still carrying. For a moment, neither of you said anything, simply sitting in the comfort of each other’s presence. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was the only thing that filled the silence, their rhythm slow and steady, like the pulse of life itself.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever really be okay,” Joel finally said, his voice low, carrying the weight of years of unspoken pain. “But I’m trying. I’m trying for me, and for... everyone around me, even if it’s hard.”

You squeezed his hand gently, your heart swelling with empathy. “That’s all anyone can do. Try. It’s enough.”

He turned his head toward you, his gaze searching, but this time it was softer, more open. “I hurt you. I called you things... things that weren’t true. And for that, I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to handle all the... feelings. And the confusion.”

You felt a knot form in your throat, but you swallowed it down, nodding in acknowledgment. “I know. I get it. And I’m sorry for... for pushing you away when I shouldn’t have. It’s just... I didn’t know who to trust anymore.”

He didn’t reply right away, his thumb moving in slow circles against the back of your hand, grounding you both once more. The world around you seemed to fade into the background, as though nothing else existed but the two of you on that beach, sharing this fragile moment.

After a few moments, he whispered, “I never wanted to hurt you. Never.”

“I know,” you whispered back, your voice filled with the same quiet sincerity. “I know you didn’t.”

Joel took a deep breath, looking back at the ocean for a moment before turning his gaze to you once again. “Maybe... maybe we can start over. No labels. No expectations. Just... us.”

You smiled softly, a real smile, one that reached your eyes. “I’d like that.”

With that, he leaned in, his forehead gently resting against yours, as the sound of the waves filled the air around you. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes, conveying all the unspoken emotions that had built up between you.

The night sky had settled over the town by the time you and Joel returned, the world around you bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. The air was cooler now, the warmth of the day fading into the peaceful stillness of the evening. The drive back had been quiet, but the silence between you didn’t feel heavy—it felt comfortable, like the kind of silence that only comes from being in the presence of someone who understands without needing to say a word.

As you reached the edge of town, Joel parked in front of his house, getting out the vehicle, you turned to Joel, your heart still full from the day you had shared. You broke the silence, your voice soft but sincere.

"Thank you for taking me out of the city, Joel" you said, your lips curving into a smile that reached your eyes, accentuating the little wrinkles at the corners that made his heart skip a beat.

He glanced at you, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Did you feel good?”

"I did. Thank you again."

Joel’s gaze lingered on you, his expression softening as he looked into your eyes. "It was nothing," he replied, his voice low, yet filled with sincerity. "Seeing you smile like this is enough for me."

"I'm really sorry for what I said to you the other day, you aren't that. You're not a sin but an angel."

You felt your heart flutter at his words. They were simple, yet they meant everything. You took a small step closer to him, the space between you shrinking until you could almost feel his warmth, the subtle scent of him mingling with the cool night air. His cheeks flushed softly as he noticed how close you were.

Your smile widened, and you took a step closer to him, his cheeks tinted in soft pink as he realized how close you were, in front of him, tiptoeing in your feet to place a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek.

How could he be so close to you and not falling into temptation? How could he be so close and not dive into the waters and be sunbathed by your light?

He didn't want it to admit it, but his heart spoke for him. Sending clear signals, each beating, slow and fast, it was all because of you.

Because of the way you were.

Because of your smile.

Because of the little wrinkles on your nose when you smiled.

And because of how your face was sun kissed by the day you had shared today looked like under the light of his own eyes.

Without thinking, Joel cupped your face gently with both hands, his touch tender as he gazed down at you. You gasped softly, your breath catching in your throat, as he leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on your forehead, his eyes closing in the moment.

You didn’t want to admit it either, but your heart was bursting in that instant. He was everything you had dreamed of, a man who could love you with such sweetness, with such kindness, that he could build a fire just to keep you warm.

"Joel?" You spoke at the silence settled, his eyes seemed lost on your face, still inhaling the scent of vanilla of your perfume as if he wanted to memorize it forever.

You hesitated, your eyes flicking around as if you expected the world to turn against you, the hateful glares of the town’s people coming for you, their judgmental eyes sharp and heavy.

"I don’t think I should," you replied, the words tentative, the unease of the world outside pressing against you.

Joel’s voice was steady as he met your gaze. "There’s tea inside."

You chuckled softly, the corners of your lips lifting in amusement as you met his eyes. "Oh, you should have started by saying that."

Having you close was healing something he thought it was forever broken.

And he smiled, opening the door of his house that seemed to welcome you all over again, a fort where you could truly be you and him, with no eyes watching.

"You can stay over." he said out if nowhere.

"Why?"

"Because it's late and I don't want you walking alone at this time." He replied, trying to convince himself that was the only reason he wanted you here, closer to where he was.

"that's nice, but seriously why?" You asked him again, softly, looking for the real reason behind those soft brown eyes that made you this weak.

"This place seems brighter with you in it." Joel’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red as he met your gaze, his voice barely a whisper now. "This place seems brighter with you in it."

The words hung in the air between you, as if they were a secret the two of you had just shared. You smiled, a tender, knowing smile that spoke volumes without needing to say anything more.

"Okay." you smiled.

"Okay." he said after, mirroring the same lopsided smile he prayed to see each day.

And both of you laughed at the same time. Every possible line to be crossed was already crossed. This day you had both shared has ripened into love, it had consumed you, completed you as if the soul has spoken the words "oh, I already found you."

Perhaps, Joel was the destination where your strings landed on.

And perhaps, you were the soul Joel had given up to a long time ago, he had found you, and he stayed, worshipping the poems he had written about you all these years.

tags: if you want to be removed, you're free to tell me.

@jasminedragoon @mandaloriankait @jellybeanxc @spencercmlover @lilac-boo @disco-fairy75 @correapunk @existentialdreadofhumanity @secretcheesecakenacho @laliceee @exzidss @missladym1981

@drewharrisonwriter @hjzghi-blog @picketniffler @nobodyssfool @pedritosgirl2000 @koshkaj-blog @cigarxttxs @sweetpeakarolinaaa @wandasimp-69 @canteenee4 @obivari @shortandderanged @casualbananapatrol @stevie75 @hammerhead1776 @brittmb115 @strangersdotmp3 @goodvibesonly421 @jackie923 @lunpycatavenue @capuccinodoll

@iamtoriasworld @priincehoseok @luunarr0 @dinomecanico @missadangel @alrihhty @pasc4lfuzz @materialgirl-97 @harrycherrylove @canteenee4 @bensonispunk @locaparapedrito

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monstersholygrail · 20 hours ago

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Yandere Alien has seen you at clubs all around the city. The way you dance like nobody is watching, and to your credit most aren’t. But he is. He’s always watching. He can’t seem to look away from you, in truth.

Leaving him to hide in the shadows waiting to see which club you and your friends will hit up next. Forcing him to hack into your accounts with his advanced technology and read all your messages for future plans. But no matter what he just can’t find it in himself to go up and finally claim you as his mate.

He’s drawn to you, that’s for certain. His eyes always stuck on the way your plush frame moves, giving him no choice but to drool over you. You have to know he’s watching. You must be doing this for him, your dance moves far to perfectly match his planet’s mating rituals.

The next time he sees you at the club, he decides that he’s gotta act and he has to do it now. He sees you just as the song changes. And then you’re doing that dance that reminds him exactly of home and he feels his cocks twitching in his pants. His eggs building up inside of him from the sight of you alone.

Fuck, he can’t do this. Not sober. So he heads to the bar and downs who knows how many shots. He honestly lost count. He drinks until the world spins. For a moment it’s almost as though he’s back in space. That’s when he finally gathers the courage to go to you. He stumbles his way over, careful not to crash into you. He’s been dreaming about this for so long, he can’t mess it up now.

He joins you in the mating dance just as he’s always wanted to. A long sigh of relief leaves him as he does. Like some part of his DNA has finally clicked into place. Fulfilling his kinds purpose of finding a mate. His heart soars once you notice him and instead of rejecting his joining, you dance back into him.

Grinding your deliciously plump ass against his cocks. A low groan leaves him as his hands settle on your wide hips. He lets you feel exactly what he’s working with, showing off and moving to the next stage of the mating ritual.

By now you have to know what you’re doing. There’s no denying the way you’re making him feel. He’s being so obvious about it. The way he claws at you, desperately pulling you closer, aching to be inside of you already. The way he wards off other potential mates, snarling at them over the music till they understand you’re taken. And the way his scent perfumes the air, attempting to mix with yours to prepare your body for his eggs.

You respond to it all so perfectly just like he knew you would. Each time you rock back into his hips and lean into his embrace he’s more and more certain you’re meant to be he. So he really isn’t all that surprised when you invite him back to your place. It’s all going according to his people’s rituals.

The rest of the night was a euphoric daze. A blur of limbs tangled together till he didn’t know where he ended and you began. Hips snapping together furiously in total sync in a way no one had ever felt before. It was the best fuck of his very long life and he knew no one else would ever be better than you. You were his mate after all.

And the deal was sealed as you both finish together, his eggs spilling deep inside of you where you’re most warm. They’ll be safe there until they’re ready to hatch, till you can all be a family.

Now he simply keep you safe, make sure you accept his eggs and the future as his mate that awaits you.

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alaia777 · 2 days ago

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BLLK GUYS AS YOUR PETTY EX

you thought the breakup was civil, but your ex? not so much. turns out, he’s got a petty side that you never knew existed.

when you and bachira broke up, you thought it ended on good terms. so when you told him to come pick up his things, you didn’t think much of it—until the next morning, when you went to grab a pair of socks and realized not a single one had a matching pair. you searched everywhere, convinced you had just misplaced them, until it finally hit you—he took every single match just to mess with you.

you ended things with sendou because you wanted to focus on yourself, and he was surprisingly understanding, claiming he needed to focus on his career too. he didn’t unfollow you on social media, liking your stories occasionally, but every now and then he’d post something like, “some people really fumble blessings 😴,” and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was aimed at you.

nagi never bothered to remove you from his streaming accounts, but he’d definitely mess with your watchlist. he’d delete whatever you were watching, leaving you to start over, and change your profile name to something like “not your personal account” or “who’s watching this?”— petty, but it was hard not to laugh.

after the breakup, sae would randomly venmo you $0.01 with the memo “for the emotional damage,” like it was the most casual thing in the world. you’d get a notification, and it was always the same—just one cent, but the audacity behind it had you questioning whether he was trolling you or genuinely trying to make a point.

you knew chigiri was petty, you saw that throughout the course of your relationship, but the difference was it was never aimed at you. until now. your friend had sent you a screenshot of chigiri’s instagram post — he was at your favorite hidden cafe, the one you’d always kept to yourself. the caption read, “new favorite spot.” you stared at the post, your heart sinking, knowing full well that with his big following, the cafe would be swarming with people now. seriously, chigiri?

you always knew why your relationship with oliver didn’t last—you deserved better. so, when you found someone who made you feel like you were their only one, you went public with it, sharing it proudly on instagram. as for oliver? he reacted to your post with a 😂.

when shidou saw your new boyfriend signed up for a marathon, he didn’t hesitate. he signed up too, made sure to get the best time, and posted a picture of himself crossing the finish line with the caption, ‘beat that’ — just to make sure you knew who really came out on top.

you’ve been getting really into rock climbing lately, feeling proud of your progress, and next thing you know, rin shows up at the climbing gym, acting like he’s been climbing for years. he casually scales the hardest wall with ease, while you’re still trying to figure out how to not fall on your face. he doesn’t smile, just watches you struggle with that intense stare of his, making it clear he’s here to outdo you at your own hobby. now, every time you go, he’s there, silently trying to one-up your climbs.

you always begged barou to stop styling his hair the same way and just let it fall naturally, but he’d never listen. after the breakup, you scrolled through his stories, and there it was—a picture of him with his hair exactly how you always wanted it. no caption, just him casually showing off the thing you’d asked for all along.

isagi keeps liking every single post you make, even the ones about your new relationship, but he’s always the last to do it. he’ll wait just long enough for you to see it, but not so long that it seems like he forgot—just enough to make sure you know he’s still watching.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #rin itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #barou shoei x reader #chigiri hyoma x reader #bachira meguru x reader #oliver aiku x reader #sendou x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #shidou ryusei x reader

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the-ellia-west · 1 day ago

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*Saying this mostly to myself, but it's also directed at you if you choose to listen*

The problem with this is that while thinking this way is helpful to get your spirits up temporarily, it doesn't last forever. Because if you start seeing it as 'helpful' you'll start seeing yourself as 'useful' and that's not a good mindset to be in.

You can't think of yourself like an object. You are a God-given creation, and he and people love you. You are amazing for WHO you are, not what you can do.

Because if we're honest, No person really makes that much of a difference in history. But that doesn't matter to God, and neither should it matter to you. Because he created you as more than a speck of dust on a timeline, a few words in a history book

He created you with a mind, with feelings, with love and worth. The truth is, perspective is what matters. Things may be awful, but if we're honest, things have always been this bad, we've just never been old enough to understand it yet.

The world is sinful, the world is awful, the world is evil, and you should not trust it to have mercy on you. Because you are not of this world. You are worth so much more than all this suffering, all this pain, because you do not belong to it. You were made for so much more than this. You were made for a God who loves you, and he wants you to see that he loves him.

Even if it's hard and you have questions, and you hate him, and the world seems awful. You are a child of the one who reigns over sin and death, the one who triumphs over the devil who drags you down. And he loves you even when you hurt him and push him away, and he's WAITING for you to just see him and let him hold you in his arms.

Politics and despair and pain and suffering are all the things that Satan uses to take you, he offers you a lie disguised as love and you take it because you've never known the real love of a father who wants you to hold you in his arms and sing you to sleep, the love of a real father who protects you from death and asks you to follow him, while giving you the free will to refuse even it he knows it will hurt when you refuse. Because what is love if not letting someone go and waiting to see if they run to you, always ready to embrace them when they reach you, and tell them you've always been waiting.

And all of you who don't believe, I pray over you, I pray that you see the truth and see the one who loves you because I want better for you than this, I pray over you because he wants better for you than this, and Satan wants you, But he should not have you, because you are SO SO loved, and there is a whole world waiting for you if you'd just take the time to open your eyes and see it. Please. I wish for you to be saved.

And for those of you who do believe, Pray, pray like you're talking to a friend, pray like you're screaming to the sky that he hates you, pray in silence and let him surround you, pray against the devil, pray for opportunity and courage and love. Pray for friends and family. Be patient, because it will come to you, Endure the pain but do NOT Let it take you down. SATAN CAN'T HAVE YOU? DO YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! BECAUSE GOD LOVES YOU! HE IS KING AND WE WILL NOT BACK DOWN. STAND UP! RISE! AND LOVE, EVEN IN THE DARK WHEN YOU CANNOT SEE. STAND, AND FACE THE SUN.

I do not know how to defend my beliefs, but I am not afraid. I've done enough standing aside. I'm ready to take my place in this world, I'm ready to let his love fill me and change me and to show it to all of you. Hate me, leave me, ridicule me, pull me down and beat me because you disagree, but I will be right here, and I will love you until the day the world ends. Because you are all my brothers and sisters, you are all children of the one and only true God, and he LOVES you so much.

Feeling rough lately.

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goatgoesmbe · 22 hours ago

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There was this one idea that was kind of plaguing my mind. (Poly141× fem reader)

Reader joins 141, and is great, like nothing wrong with her. Following orders to the T, like overall on paper she's a hardworking team member just like the rest of them. But she doesn't really open up you know? Like others make occasional jokes and all. But she's not a hardass either she just simply stays in her space and is quiet just observing them.

Like if they even try to include her she's just either politely refuses them or occasionally gives her input. But that's it. They basically never have seen her smile, laugh, joke. They don't know why? Like were they doing something wrong? Or maybe it's cause you're new that's why.

But imagine their surprise when the they're all in bar, just enjoying each other's company. And they all hear a girls group basically entering the bar and then they see you. Dressed in such a pretty tight dress, smiling, laughing with her friends, drinking, flirting with bartender to get free drinks. And it's like there's a whole new human in front of them. They were all stunned, even Ghost (which was rare).

And it's like they could addicted to the sight of you smiling and laughing but you don't even talk to them outside work ;( So they all start to make a plan on how to get you to open up to them and probably has bets and all too.

(Sorry I vomitted too much. This is kind of self insert because I'm like this😭. I keep my guard up for very long time in front of new people and then I'm a complete different person in front of my friends lol)

im lowkey the same, but im more like a feral gremlin instead of a hottie-

I feel like Johnny would be the one who's very serious about getting you to be comfortable with them. But he'd be too eager, if Simon didn't hold him back by his shirt, he would already walk over to you and your girlfriends.

John would observe and think. And he didn't know why he felt a bit jealous of your friends who are able to see that version of you often, he wanted you to be comfortable with him too. As his eyes met yours, he smiled at the flushed on the high of your cheeks, embarrassed at being caught in that persona.

Kyle would be similar to Johnny but he's a smooth guy. He wouldn't approach you, but he would order drinks for you (and your friends) without you knowing. He didn't tell the bartender about telling you, but he wasn't against it either. And of course, you had to ask who was buying the drinks, and when the bartender pointed at him, you felt your cheeks heating up even more as your friends giggled and made eyes at him.

And i think Simon would be more understanding. He had been living a double life himself, separated by the mask. Ghost might be known as a ruthless killer, but Simon Riley is just a silly guy who enjoys making bad jokes with his friends. So he would just let you be, he's content with any version of you, and you would eventually be comfortable with them soon enough anyway- as he let the others do the job for him.

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sxorpiomooon · 2 days ago

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What does your family think of you?

Paid readings

Masterlist

Pile 1-

More thinking less actually talking about it. You might talk to yourself alot or blabber alot? Alot of words that you say or are deep thinking about never actually see the light of the day and that's what they think. I see especially a women figure mother probably very worried and curious about this. They think of you as someone who knows very well how to hype others well someone who brings the light in people and you know the mood settler. Someone who brings excitement and they are always upbeat when you are near. However I think your family might be a little worried about you mainly because they believe that you hide alot from them especially your struggles it's like you refuse to talk about them or even acknowledge that they are there. There is also this theme about trying to ignore the past or let go off the past but not being able to. I keep having a vision of a person with their hands on their face there is a shame that this person feels as they wish to hide themselves/ their face so that other people don't look at it. Your mother or a women around you is the one that is the most worried and concerned she loves you alot and is waiting for the moment that you come up to them to talk. They believe that you bring light whenever you go and it's like you are the light. Your family also believes that you tend to hide your struggles this might be someone who might have had to protect their family from a very young age, someone with alot of burden on their shoulders and a belief that no one else can or should be handling it except them.

Pile 2-

The thought daughter. "You got your passion, you got your pride but don't you know that only fools are satisfied" from Vienna started playing in my head. Very warm and kind you might love winters or more so being able to hide yourself in big clothes, mufflers and fire near. You might daydream alot and might drink coffee or some other drink alot. "You know how to love better than most of us that's why you find it all so painful" from fleabag played in my head I heard "begging to be understood". You might feel as if no one understands you or your struggles but they do that's what you need to know. You might repress your anger alot in order to be kind or nice. I think your dad loves you the most he understands you it's in the way that he stares at you. Read books, philosophy, write in your journal and observe art you have a very long way to you. You have to understand and realise that people do see you for who you are especially your family. Someone very warm, kind and wise very good intuition and very connected to her inner voice.

Pile 3-

do you perhaps say the same thing alot of times because you are nervous or simply because you are not able to remember what you were gonna say next? Your family is patient with you. You have a good home I think if not good, you do have a home. You will always come back to your home and you will always have a place that will celebrate even your smallest goals. I think you make your house a home. You might connect all the family members with each other and even if there isn't much love between them they share this mutual love for you. You also have your community I think for this pile their family is not just their parents who gave birth to them etc but also other people that they have found over the years. You have a bigger family than the rest of the people. You are very celebrated. Are you good with decorations or surprises? There is something coming up regarding that I think your family might have wanted to do something for you alot of times but they fail because you are always two steps ahead. Your family might also feel as if they are a burden to you or perhaps you do more for them than they do for you? This might be a native household I'm also hearing a language I heard "their first time living too" and "maybe they really don't know any better"

Pile 4-

Oh they really fw however it's either that they think you are too much with your friends and about friendship or they believe and actually think of you as someone who is their friend and keeps a very friendly environment in the house. They might think that you like to party and have fun and also that people around you just have fun yk. Do you bring your friends to your home alot I see one in particular dancing with you dancing queen by ABBA started playing in my head. I heard "a very loving community". However they might also feel as if you have not yet discovered who you truly are. They might often worry that you are too fixed on the superficial thing and other people and pay no focus to your own well being I heard "emptiness and hopeless" that's not how they feel about you but that's what they believe that you feel about yourself. They might worry about your future and might want you to see things for what they truly are I heard "disregard for consequences". But they believe that you are someone who's very compassionate and composed.

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 2 days ago

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I like to imagine that post war nobody really knows much about Tobias and due to a combination of the animorphs not really wanting to spill his entire life story for him and people's understanding of how morphing works there's this weird consensus that Tobias must have been like. A hawk that somehow got morphing abilities and decided to join the war effort. People are torn on whether he took over the life of Tobias Fangor or it's just a cleverly forged identity. (cont.)

(cont.) Marco thinks it's the funniest thing ever and helps feed the fire. Tobias is completely out of the loop but if he wasn't be right there beside him. Cassie hate it, but is torn about saying anything because it's starting debates about the sentience of animals and is helping her to push her (hork bijar) cause. Jake is tired.

This, in my mind, is canon. Always. Regardless of circumstances. Because we really don't get any information on Tobias's post-war status other than that he's "forgotten," and I love the idea of him as this cryptid who inspires all the rumors.

#animorphs #animorphs meta #tobias fangor #emohawk #animorphs spoilers

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mintendo96 · 3 days ago

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People especially don't understand the violence of displacement, refugeehood, and diaspora. Like the deaths of these wars are so brutal and horrific but being displaced isn't safety or without its own horrors.

Imagine someone like my dad. He was 6 years old when the six day war happened. He remembers it well even. He remembers being shot at. He remembers hiding in the caves. He remembers running out of food and not being sure if they would be able to get more. Now that alone is a horror and a trauma that lives on your bones.

Now imagine that the only home he has ever known is not home anymore. Might never be again. This place is where your family has lived for at least 12 generations and have family legends of Saladin. His parents decided it was safer to come to the US. A place where he doesn't speak the language, none of them do really. A place that's different entirely: a rural town in Palestine to a bustling American city is a big transition. And he just has to be okay with that because it's a *blessing* at least you are *safe.*

But safety isn't in the day to day as his family struggles to feed all of them. Safety isn't the word I would use to describe figuring out what place to put on your passport as country of origin when your country can't be your birthplace. Safety isn't the word I would use to describe the myriad of ways racism appears in the day to day, both mundane and horrifying. He loses whatever abilities he has to read and write in Arabic.

But, he eventually gets to a place where he and other parts of his family can go back to home. It's wonderful although brief each time and getting briefer. Then things get worse back home and he won't know the next time it will be safe to see his home. He tries to preserve his culture to his kids with his wife who is also Palestinian. They know some basic words in Arabic, but they are toddlers, they will learn more.

Then 9/11 happens. The world is more dangerous for him and his kids than he thought it could get. Even in the "safe" place that they fled to. Hate crimes are increasingly a problem and what is going to happen to his kids. He and his wife stop speaking Arabic in public. Not on purpose, not even consciously, but their kids slowly lose their tenuous grasp of his language. They can't even speak to his parents really and the language barrier between the two generations is a new kind of horror. A rupture that echoes the lack of his literacy in Arabic but this time he can hear it.

He doesn't visit home again for over 2 decades. But he gets back home. And it is beautiful. Two of his adult kids come for the first time. They get to see what they have been missing their whole lives. The parts of them that were lost to time or hatred are here. He even wants to move back. He tries to start the process of getting his parents home in his and his siblings names. It's all they he adores, the food is just as good as he remembers. His kid gorges herself on figs so much she gets ill. They have tea every morning on the patio.

He doesn't get a chance to go back. Not yet at least. The pandemic and then the genocide have prevented him. His kid now lives within a few miles of where the first hate crime in the US that took place after 9/11. He has spent the last 2 years watching horrors beyond even the traumas he already held. He watches the place he loves and desparately wants to return to get turned into rubble over and over again.

Being in the US has meant my family is alive. I am privileged to be here, but it is a horror onto itself. And this is a story of displacement to a Western country, many other stories are far worse than his, far worse than mine. But even in ideal circumstances, diaspora has been a horror. A rupture in space and time on our culture and our identity happening concurrently to the physical destruction of people that look like us. Do you know how often I donate to people with the names of my cousins? How often I see bloodied faces of kids that look like my niblings? How if we were from just a few miles southwest from where we are, we would be there too?

Getting out is important and you should keep funding people to flee, but you have to understand, they aren't fleeing to safety. They are fleeing to a better chance at life, but that life, as it stands, will never be safe.

The US literally invented the playbook by invading Iraq 2 decades ago and keeping it under occupation for nearly a decade after that (and it still is under occupation really, what with US troops still strewn throughout the country)—and we still have people thinking that their every pro-Israeli move isn’t made with the very intention of killing Arabs, as they historically have in the past. Get serious.

#palestine #gaza #palestinian

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cheekytv · 2 days ago

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have you ever tried... this one? - g. a. clarke & c. m. dixon going to paris with your boyfriend was supposed to be a romantic getaway. but when chris gets dumped, george can't help but ask his best mate to join in. how great of chris that he offers you sabrina carpenter tickets as compensation.... and somehow becomes involved in after concert activites...

pairing: george x f!reader x chris genre: smut MDNI!!! warnings: threesome, eifeltower, creampie, cum swallowing, fingering, oral (m. receiving), loads of kissing, let me know if i missed anything wc: 3.6k a/n: this is obviously inspired by sabrina's second paris concert... i wanna thank my friend val for giving me this idea!!! i love u queen!! also this isn't fully proof read because i worked on this for days and just wanted to post something for yall! requests are still open by the way and i will publish an arthurtv one next week <3 also, if you read to the end you may suggest who in the friendgroup should be next!

Oh Paris, the city of love. The city you love. Growing up in sad grey England, Paris has been your favorite place to be since you were a child.

And this week, you finally got to show it to your boyfriend, George. You have been dating for a good year now, but his busy schedule has never really allowed any trips to Paris - until now. The minute he had confirmed the dates with you, you had booked everything, ready to make George fall in love with Paris the same way you had made him fall in love with him.

Just that, a few days before the trip, Chris, George’s best friend, got dumped by his new girlfriend rather harshly and George, the nice guy he is, promptly suggested he’d join you on this trip. Chris, obviously feeling bad, but also not wanting to miss out on a nice week in Paris, tried to win you over by scoring three Sarbina Carpenter tickets and giving them to you as a thank you. Safe to say - he did win you over.

So, Paris was now a three-person trip and Chris somehow became a third wheel who didn’t necessarily feel like a third wheel. Every shop you went to, he gave George and you space, very good at entertaining himself (he was a grown man, sure, but it still did surprise you) and joining the two of you at the right moments. Even with him there the trip felt romantic and considering he had a separate hotel room, George and you still had the nights all to yourself.

The night of the Sabrina concert finally came and when you entered the arena and went to the seats Chris had gotten the three of you, you smirked, thinking about what you had promised George at breakfast this morning.

“Oh, just a heads up,” you started, leaning over so your lips were right by George’s ear, “the position she chooses tonight, we’ll also choose tonight.” George’s face lit up, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

“You always have such wonderful ideas, darling.” He grinned then, watching you sit back down and chuckle, eyes glancing over to Chris who was just about to reach your table.

The plan would have been fine, would have been dandy, would have been the perfect thing to look forward to after the concert - if only Sabrina hadn’t chosen this night in Paris to debut a position involving dancers. Plural. Two dancers.

George, sitting next to you and Chris, felt his mouth drop open at the display. Next to him, he felt Chris tense slightly - he had told his best friend about your suggestion during a walk earlier and Chris had happily anticipated this moment with his friend, being supportive as always. But this? George shifted on his feet, the arena obviously filled with shouts and screams and people singing the lyrics to Juno and he couldn’t bring himself to look at you.

Honestly, he didn’t even understand why this had such an impact on him. Why it was suddenly so hard to look at you and why he found himself thinking thoughts he hadn’t thought of seriously before. Little did he know that you were going through the exact same scenarios as him.

Could this really just be a coincidence? There were two Paris concerts, yesterday, she had done the whole thing with smoking a cigarette after sex and today, the show Chris had gotten tickets for unexpectedly, she did the bloody Eifeltower? It felt a bit too targeted.

And if you were honest with yourself… Chris wasn’t unattractive, more so the opposite. Even being shorter than George, you were still smaller than him, so it didn’t really make a difference to you anyway. He was handsome and funny, kind and lean, with muscles in the right places - not to mention his insane talent at football. So, yeah, perhaps the thought had crossed your mind once or twice. You were just a girl after all. A girl with eyes and your boyfriend just so happened to have a friend group filled with attractive men.

Slowly, you managed to get back to the here and now, your focus back on Sabrina on the stage, the thoughts of what the position choice would mean for later tonight vanishing from your mind for the time being.

–

The drive back to the hotel was… just slightly awkward. You managed to keep up the conversation, talking about how great Sabrina was live and how spectacular her show was. Sure, the elephant in the room was right there and both George and Chris had sweaty hands (even though Chris didn’t even know why he was so nervous. It wasn’t like he and George had ever discussed anything like this… at least not seriously) not able to look at each other throughout the whole drive.

By the time you walked up the stairs to the hotel, your words had dried up. Instead they made room for slight anxiety and insecurity. Walking to the elevator in silence, you were happy to see no one else was in it with you.

“Okay, we gotta address it.” You shit out the second the elevator doors closed. George and Chris exchanged a quick look before letting their eyes fall onto you.

“Darling,-“ George started, but you interrupted him.

“No, listen. Obviously, I didn't know she’d do… that position today.” You crossed your arms and tried to ignore your burning cheeks. “We don’t- this doesn’t have to be anything, it’s just- it’s not like I haven’t thought about it- I-“,

“You thought about it?” George raised his brows and was surprised by the lack of jealousy arising within him. Instead, he felt a strange sense of arousal cursing through him. The joke about him and you having a possible threeway with any of his friends had come up plenty of times - even in videos, but he had never considered them an actual possibility. Sure, the thought had… somehow got him excited, but he hadn’t even dared to bring it up with you, too scared of a negative reaction. And now you were revealing that you had in fact thought about it?

Chris, next to George, felt his eyes widen and his heart speeding up, his palms growing sweatier. You had thought about this? About him and George… his cheeks heated up and he let his gaze wander between you and your boyfriend, not allowing himself into the conversation just yet.

George’s question had caught you off guard, mainly because you hadn’t even realised your own slip-up. A pit in your stomach opened up and your brain worked hard to come up with a clever answer, but unfortunately came up empty.

“I-”, you began, feeling sweat forming on your forehead, “I mean, I don’t- I didn’t-,”

“Because I have, too.” George interrupted you again, his hand finding yours, pulling you closer, “in fact, we have… talked about this before.” He looked over at Chris, who still stared at the two of you like a semi-lost puppy.

Now this you hadn’t expected. Behind you, the doors pinged, signaling you reaching your floor. The three of you kept standing inside the elevator in anticipating silence for another moment. Even with no words being exchanged there seemed to be an understanding hanging between you. Swallowing, you finally turned to move out of the elevator, the two men following you. George was still holding your hand, his heartbeat echoing in his ears.

Reaching the hotel room, George let go of your hand and got out his wallet, the keylock for the room beeping a few seconds later. There were still no words exchanged, only your breathing audible in the silence as George opened the door and Chris and you followed him inside. Neither of you knew how this was going to go. How you were going to even start this. A threesome had never been on your bucket list, at least not officially. And it certainly hadn’t been on your bucket list for this trip.

The heavy hotel room door fell shut behind you and all of you slowly discarded your jackets and shoes, making your way further into the room. The atmosphere changed as soon as the bed came into view, the king size suddenly looking way too small for the two people who had shared it the last three nights. Your heart was pumping and your blood was rushing in your ears, your eyes finally finding Georges.

“Should we sit?” He asked then, pointing to the bed and you and Chris nodded, walking over and sinking down onto the mattress.

You were in between them now. Both your thighs touching theirs, all of your pulses quickened and all senses heightened.

“So, just to clarify,” Chris now said, rubbing his sweaty palms along his jeans as if to dry them, “we are all cool with this?”

George and you nodded, heads turned to the blonde man.

“Are you cool with it?” You carefully asked him, gaze set on his handsome features.

Now, it was Chris who nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m cool with this.” Even with his cheeks all rosy, he sounded determined. George on your other side, felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. God, he was really about to share the girl he loved with his best friend, how utterly strange and appealing at the same time.

“Well then…,” you licked over your lips nervously, your gaze falling from Chris’ eyes to his lips. Adrenaline shot through you when you felt Chris leaning in, his breath hot on your face when he finally closed the gap between you two.

He tasted and felt different than George, his lips a little bit softer than your boyfriends. Chris was cautious at first, but when you moved your head and switched up the angle, he dared to let his tongue run over your bottom lip, his hand finding its way onto your cheek. You gladly accepted his tongue sliding into your mouth, your own meeting and letting him take the lead. The kiss deepened and you leaned in closer to Chris, your head feeling dizzy.

George watched, his mouth slightly dropped. Nothing could have prepared him for the way he felt watching you with someone else. A part of him felt guilty for not being jealous, for not wanting you all to himself. But that all faded away when he heard your soft gasp when Chris bit down on your bottom lip, when he felt the heat radiating off your body. He leaned forward, his hands pushing your hair over your shoulder, leaving your neck bare for him to gently caress and finally kiss.

Feeling both of them kissing you caused another moan against Chris’ lips, your own hands now moving to both of their napes, fingers curling into their hair. Electricity sparked with every touch, every kiss, every breath. Turning your face, you now kissed George on the lips, giving Chris the chance to devour your neck with his lips, sucking and kissing your soft skin.

Every kiss with George somehow felt like the first one, filling your stomach with butterflies and happiness. All that slowly faded into heat now, blatant heat that needed to be set free, that demanded to be heard and taken care of. You gasped into his mouth when he let his hands wander underneath your shirt, both men shortly parting from you so he could pull it over your head and throw it onto the floor. They dove right back into kissing you, George’s hands now exploring your freed skin, fingers tracing the cups of your bra and finally moving to the clasp on your back, letting it clip open. Chris moved to kiss your shoulders, his hands sneaking around your waist and finding your button and zipper, opening both so his hand could glide into your jeans. Your legs moved to open wider almost automatically, more moans leaving your body when you felt Chris’ fingers on your drenched core.

“Fucking hell.” Chris groaned, his fingers circling your clit over your panties. “You’re so wet already, darling.”

“God, Chris, I don’t think your ready for her perfect pussy,” George smirked as he kissed down your neck, your bra now discarded next to your shirt on the floor. His lips closed around your right nipple and your head tilted back, right onto Chris’ shoulder. Chris, who now moved to get the rest of your clothes off.

“Unfair.” It truly was - both men were still fully dressed while you were about to be fully naked. They both chuckled, exchanging a quick glance before getting rid of their shirts. Your eyes feasted on the bare torsos of your two lovers for the night. Biting down on your bottom lip, you moved to look at Chris, your one hand running over his abs, while the other found George’s nape.

You dove back into it then. Chris’ lips on yours in a hot and passionate kiss, while George was kissing your neck and back. With every passing second you grew needier, your pussy throbbing even with Chris back inside your panties with his fingers, circling your clit with expertise. The soft sounds coming out of your mouth drove both of them crazy, their cocks straining against their trousers.

Quickly, they moved to get naked as well, the three of you getting cozier in the middle of the bed, your body pressed between theirs. Spreading your legs, you hooked one each around theirs, letting both men take their turns to kiss your neck and lips, George’s long fingers inside of you, pumping you open for one of their cocks, while Chris’ thumb was back on your clit, pressing down as he moved it in perfect circles. The sensation made your heart race and your body tingle, every touch better than the last. There wasn’t anything that could make you stop right now, not even the end of the world. If this was how you died - so be it.

“Who do you want where, darling?” George finally whispered into your ear, his middle and forefinger still thrusting into you, hitting you right where you needed it most. Words were hard to form with both men on you, but you somehow managed to whimper that you really wanted to suck Chris’ cock first.

Chris felt himself twitch against your thigh, groaning into your neck.

“Fuck, yeah, let’s do that.”

You found yourself on your hands and knees seconds later, Chris kneeling in front, George behind you. Chris' hand was caressing your face, his pupils blown as he stared down at you with nothing but admiration and hunger in his eyes. He brushed his thumb against your lips.

“Suck, darling.” He commanded in a whisper and you obliged immediately, your lips parting to suck his thumb into your mouth. His breath hitched, feeling your tongue twirl around his digit.

“What a good, good girl.” He mumbled and George, currently feeling up your ass and enjoying the view of your glistening folds, smirked proudly.

“Yeah, she’s always so fucking good. Likes to be told what to do, too.” He squeezed your right cheek, before getting his hand around his cock, stroking it a few times. “Are you ready for me, my love?” He asked then and you nodded, whimpering around Chris’ thumb.

George moved right away. His tip breached your sensitive hole and your eyes rolled back when he began to sink into you, every inch of him feeling nothing short of delicious. George’s cock was girthy and by now you would have expected to be used to how he stretched you, but no, it was a perfect new experience every time. Chris wasn’t as wide as George, but slightly longer, his angry red tip staring at you, taunting you with the sticky pre cum about to drop onto the duvet. Looking up at Chris with big eyes now, trying to signal him that his thumb was not enough anymore.

And even though this was the first time Chris and you were intimate like this, he seemed to get it right away. His eyes met yours and sparkled with more hunger than before, his thumb leaving your mouth and instead bringing his hand around his cock, leading it to your awaiting mouth. Breathing heavily, his tip bumped against your outstretched tongue, the softness making him moan. You hungrily licked away his pre-cum, revelling in his taste.

“Shit, you’re so hot.” Chris groaned, his cock now sliding inside your mouth. Every inch that got engulfed by your warmth already brought him closer to the edge, his eyes rolling back when his tip reached the back of your throat.

Just then, George finally bottomed out, his throbbing cock feeling right at home in your tight walls. His hands gripped your waist, grounding himself in the familiarity of your body. His first thrust was firm and controlled and caused you to almost fall forward, Chris’ cock gliding even deeper down your throat. He gasped audibly, his hands moving to your head, fingers grabbing your hair. Hollowing out your cheeks, you moved your head up and down his shaft, tongue pressing against his undersite and gliding over his tip whenever you moved back.

With every thrust, George felt himself nearing his climax, his fingers digging into your skin. There were little things George enjoyed more than being with you. To him, you were perfect, everything about you was perfect. The way you arched your back when he tasted you, the way you squeezed his cock just like right now, hinting at your own climax being close. He loved the way you listened to his every word, how you aimed to please and be pleased, how you kissed him every chance you got. And this, right now, you almost choking on his best friend’s cock, being so goddamn good for them… a part of him was worried about missing this, about missing you with a cock in your mouth while he fucked you, about wishing he could hear your gagged moans, about almost losing his mind over the way you pulsated around him, so turned on by Chris inside your throat.

“You’re doing so well, darling, I am so proud of you.” He purred, his hands gently caressing your backside.

“Yeah, Georgey is right, pet, you’re really doing so fucking well.” Chris licked his lips, watching your eyes sparkle with tears. “Can I fuck your mouth?” He asked then, breathlessly and you nodded immediately. Relieved, Chris looked over at George who gave him an encouraging grin. That was all he needed. Both of your consent.

The two men didn’t hold back then. In almost perfect unison they began to thrust, one cock hitting your sweet spot perfectly, while the other went so deep down your throat you thought to see stars. Never had you felt so full before, your eyes rolling back in pleasure, muffled moans around Chris’ cock sending vibrations through the blonde man. He groaned, fingers digging into your scalp as he lost himself completely in his pleasure.

George knew it wasn’t going to take long anymore, his cock beginning to twitch over and over inside you, feeling your soft walls tightening around him.

“Are you gonna come for us, darling? Gonna come all prettily on my cock?” His hips picked up the pace and you felt tears streaming down your cheeks, the pleasure almost too much to handle. And when George sneaked a hand between your legs and let his thumb press down harshly on your clit - there was no stopping it. Your orgasm hit you like a hard wave, your body shaking while your moans got drowned out by the sound of skin on skin, wet and perfect and filthy. Chris was thriving on the way your throat vibrated around him, closing in on his orgasm.

“Good girl, so fucking good.” Every wave of your orgasm brought George closer to his own and when he finished fucking you through your high, he finally reached his. Gripping onto your hips for dear life, he moaned your name once, twice and emptied inside you, thick ropes of cum painting your insides white, leaving you hot and satisfied.

“Fuuuck, you’re perfect.” Chris watched your eyes rolling back forward and when he saw the longing look in them, he couldn’t help but fall over the edge, cursing under his breath while his own load shot down your throat, your lips sucking hungrily, not wanting to waste even one drop of him. You milked him of all he had and only when he pulled out and fell backwards, did you swallow it all, falling on top of him with George landing on your back.

The three of you needed a good five minutes to recover from this, both men sticky with sweat the same way as you.

They finally got up, George getting you and them clothes to change into (He gave Chris a set of his own) and Chris bringing a washcloth from the bathroom to carefully clean you up. Giggling, you thanked him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before excusing yourself to go to the bathroom yourself (always pee after sex!).

George and Chris got dressed in a comfortable silence, only exchanging a look when they were both clothed and sitting on the bed, backs resting against the headrest.

“So,” George started, “should we tell the others?” He asked and Chris clicked his tongue.

“I think that’s up to you, mate. But,” his eyes darted to the bathroom you were still in, “if you do tell them, do not be surprised if they beg you to be next.”

George looked at him for a few seconds. Then, he grinned.

“You know what? I might not even hate that idea.”

#george clarkey fanfiction #chrismd fanfiction #chris dixon fanfiction #george clarkey x reader #george clarke x reader #george clarke fanfiction #george clarke smut #george clarkey smut #chrismd smut #chris dixon smut #george clarke au #george clarkey au #chrismd au #chris dixon au

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amoressb · 13 hours ago

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───── TOO LATE 西村力 N. RK

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ you thought you and him were meant to be, but he chose someone else…until he realized his mistake too late ｡｡ bsf!riki x reader .

ANGST & wc. 1500 + / just pretty sad for y/n :( ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

you’ve always believed in signs. the way the universe nudges people together, how timing seems to work out perfectly for those who are meant to be. for years, you thought the signs were leading you to him.

nishimura riki, your best friend, your safe place, the boy who made the world feel lighter just by being in it. you swore he felt it too.

the way his eyes always searched for yours first in a crowded room. the way he pulled you close when it was cold, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders even if it left him shivering. the way his fingers brushed against yours a little too often, lingering, as if waiting for you to just take his hand already.

you convinced yourself that he was waiting…just like you were. so when he asked to talk one afternoon, looking nervous, you thought this is it.

this is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

you sit under your usual cherry blossom tree, a place that’s always felt like yours. rikis leg bounces slightly, his fingers tapping against his knee. he’s nervous. just like you.

“i’ve been thinking a lot about something,” he says, exhaling. “and i really need your help.”

your heart pounds. this is it. he’s finally going to say it. you smile, trying to contain your excitement. “of course, ki. you can tell me anything.”

he looks at you then, his eyes shining with something intense—something you think is for you.

“i really like someone.”

the world pauses. your breath catches, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your skirt. “oh.” he smiles, a little anxious, a little shy. “yeah…and i think i want to ask her out.”

every part of you is screaming say my name. just say my name.

riki takes a deep breath.

“it’s sohee.”

something in you breaks. you blink, convinced you misheard…but he keeps talking.

“i don’t know, she’s just different,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “and i don’t want to mess this up, so i was thinking…since you guys are close, maybe you could help me?”

help him?

help him get with your best friend?

the words echo in your head, over and over, like a cruel joke you don’t understand. you had been so sure.

every glance, every touch, every unspoken moment…was it all in your head? had you built something out of nothing?

riki is still looking at you, waiting, completely unaware that he’s just shattered you into pieces. so you do what you always do.

you pretend.

you swallow down the lump in your throat and force a smile. “of course,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “i’ll help you.”

at first, you tell yourself it’s fine. that you can handle it. that as long as riki is happy, you’ll be okay. but watching him fall for sohee is nothing short of torture.

you sit through conversations where he gushes about her laugh, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, the way she makes his heart race. and sohee—completely oblivious to your pain—is falling too.

“i think i really like him,” she admits one afternoon, her voice full of excitement. “he’s just…he’s different, you know?”

different.

of course, he’s different to her. you want to scream. to tell her that it isn’t fair. that you loved him first, but instead, you smile. “i’m happy for you.” even though it’s a lie.

the distance between you and riki starts small. you take longer to respond to his texts. you stop waiting for him after class. you let conversations die down first, leaving messages unanswered for hours instead of seconds.

and riki?

he barely notices.

he’s too busy with her.

it’s not long before he stops texting first. stops noticing when you’re not around. one afternoon, you pass him in the hallway, your stomach twisting as you wait for him to acknowledge you, but he doesn’t.

because sohee is walking next to him.

because he no longer looks for you first.

the inside jokes stop making sense. the conversations become short. you don’t sit with him at lunch anymore, choosing the farthest table in the cafeteria while he and sohee sit close together, laughing over something you’ll never understand.

and the worst part?

he never asks why.

never pulls you aside. never tells you he misses you. he just…let’s you go.

one night, your phone buzzes. your heart stupidly leaps at the sight of his name.

riki : hey, you up?

for a moment, you consider ignoring it.

but old habits die hard.

you : “yeah. what’s up?”

riki : “idk. just feels like we haven’t talked in a while.”

you grip your phone, your chest tightening. now he notices?now that sohee isn’t around?

your fingers hover over the keyboard, a million things you want to say filling your head.

we haven’t talked because you replaced me.

because you never noticed me slipping away.

because you never loved me the way i loved you.

but instead, you type the safest answer possible.

you : “yeah, i guess so.”

you can almost see him nodding at your response, thinking that’s enough and for the first time in your life, you realize you’re done waiting for him to see you.

days pass. then weeks. you barely speak to sohee. you barely speak to him. riki still sends the occasional message, still smiles at you in the halls, but it’s different now. nothing is the same and yet, he still never asks you what’s wrong.

one afternoon, you sit alone in the library, staring at a book you aren’t reading. footsteps approach, but you don’t bother looking up.

“hey, stranger.” your stomach twists. you glance up, meeting his gaze. riki stands there, hands in his pockets, looking at you like he’s just now realizing how far apart you’ve grown.

“you’ve been distant lately,” he says, brows furrowing. “everything okay?” a bitter laugh escapes your lips.

now he notices.

you search his face, waiting for something. a flicker of recognition. a sign that he knows what he’s done, but all you see is confusion. like he truly has no idea. like he hasn’t spent the last few months breaking you without even realizing it.

you exhale, closing the book in your hands. “yeah, riki,” you say quietly, standing up. “everything’s fine.”

a lie.

but this time, you don’t care if he believes it. you brush past him without a word, heart pounding in your chest. but before you can take another step, fingers wrap around your wrist.

gentle...familiar…

your breath catches as you freeze in place. “wait,” riki says, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “what’s going on with you?”

you swallow, willing yourself to stay composed. you can’t do this. you won’t do this. so you force a laugh, shaking off his grip. “nothing’s going on, riki. you’re imagining things.” he doesn’t let go.

“that’s a lie.” your stomach twists. you’ve never heard him sound like this before—frustrated, desperate.

he tugs you slightly, forcing you to turn toward him. when your eyes finally meet, something in his expression shifts. like he finally sees you.

not just as his best friend. not as the person he left behind. but as someone who’s been hurting for a long, long time.

his grip loosens, his fingers barely holding onto yours now. “why didn’t you tell me?” his voice cracks. “why didn’t you say anything?”

you shake your head, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “and say what, riki?” the words taste bitter on your tongue. “that i was stupid enough to think you liked me? that i spent years waiting for you, only for you to ask me to help you get with my best friend?”

his eyes widen, “n/n…” you laugh, but it comes out broken. “it doesn’t matter now.”

but riki is still looking at you like he’s just now realizing everything. like he’s trying to piece it all together. and the worst part? you don’t even want him to anymore. because it’s too late. it has to be.

you pull away first.

for the first time in your life, you are the one to walk away. and this time, you don’t stop to wonder if he’ll come after you. but just as you reach the door, just as you think this is it…

“wait.”

his voice is barely above a whisper, but it stops you in your tracks. you don’t turn around. you can’t. because if you do, you might break. the silence stretches between you, heavy, suffocating.

“i think…i messed up.”

your heart stutters. slowly, you turn your head, just enough to see the look on his face. regret. realization.

like he’s just now understanding what he’s about to lose. your breath catches, fingers trembling at your sides and then—

“n/n, i—” the door swings open.

sohees voice rings out. “riki! there you are, i’ve been looking for you.” your stomach drops and riki stiffens. in that single moment, as he hesitates between you and her, you realize something. even if he’s finally starting to see you—

it might already be too late.

⋆｡°✩ @cheruphic @liwinly @chrrific @hyukabean @ijustwannareadstuff20 @jellyluv4eva

lmk if you guys would like a part 2 !!

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nobodysdaydreams · 2 days ago

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I normally don't weigh in on stuff like this online, cause I don’t have time to deal with people’s problematic takes, hate, and blasphemy (not you OP, you’re in the right here). However, this one in particular always gets me, because it becomes so obvious, so painfully embarrassingly obvious, that any Christian who believes this is woefully unfamiliar with the Bible. This isn't just a misinterpretation or an alternative translation thing either, and I honestly do not think people who aren't Christian and have just heard the general idea of "well, you know, Jesus was Jewish" understand how surreally and cartoonishly ridiculous it is to suggest that Jesus was antisemitic or that the New Testament is antisemitic.

But for those that do need context, it's not just briefly mentioned in passing in the New Testament that Jesus was born into a Jewish family or society. In fact, a good portion of the New Testament is spent talking explicitly about how Jewish Jesus is.

His Jewish lineage is mentioned many times, his parents follow Jewish customs when he's born, he takes it upon himself to go to the temple to talk to scholars coincidentally around the age most Jewish children have their bar mitzvah, he celebrates the Passover with his family and friends, he quotes the Old Testament when preaching and explicitly says he is not here to overturn the Old Testament, but fulfill it, there is no possible way to argue that Jesus wasn't Jewish (ethnically or religiously) or claim that he was antisemitic somehow. The only arguments I've seen anyone pull out as "proof" of his antisemitism are moments when Jesus called out members of his own community. So I guess if you think that being against a single member of any group or even one action of any one member of a group means you must hate the entire group, even if it's your own group, then I suppose that's all the proof you need, but personally, I think the whole thing sounds completely ridiculous.

The Bible: *spends a large amount of time talking about the Jewish lineage of Jesus and his spiritual and personal connection to Judaism* Someone who didn't read much of the Bible, but really, really, wants to use Christianity to justify their antisemitism: "Jesus was actually just kidding when he celebrated Passover and went to the Temple. Yes, he did dedicate a rather large portion of his life to observing Judaism, but like, it was probably actually an elaborate bit that only I am aware of."

I confronted a fellow Christian for being openly antisemitic and they proceeded to use the Bible, ya know, the book full of Jews, to justify antisemitism. It was surreal.

#If you find yourself using the Bible more often to justify your views of others including other christians #Rather than using it to examine your life and become a better and more loving person #You might want to read it again #Christianity #Catholic #Catholicism #This better not bring antisemites to my inbox. I’m warning y’all now you better not try it

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blueberry3241 · 3 days ago

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★彡 Bts reaction to their S/O having a child from a past relationship

↷ Pairing : bts x reader ↷ Genre : Fluff, Angst,Comfort ↷ word count : 2,440 words

Disclaimer : This is an original work of fiction. All characters, settings, and story elements are my own creation. Any resemblance to real people, places, or events is purely coincidental. Please do not reproduce, distribute, or adapt this work without my explicit permission.

↝Namjoon

Namjoon sat across from you at the small café, his fingers wrapped around his coffee mug as he listened intently. You had been dating for a few months now, and everything was going well. However, there was something you hadn’t told him yet—something that you were terrified would change the way he saw you.

Taking a deep breath, you finally confessed, “Namjoon… there’s something you should know. I have a child from a previous relationship.”

Namjoon blinked, clearly surprised, but he didn’t say anything right away. He leaned back in his chair, processing your words.

“How old is your child?” he asked softly, his voice free of judgment.

Relief washed over you at his calm response. “She’s five… her name is Hana.”

Namjoon smiled, the dimples you loved appearing on his cheeks. “That’s a beautiful name.”

You searched his face for any hint of discomfort or hesitation. “I understand if this changes things between us. I should have told you earlier, but—”

Namjoon reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “Why would it change anything? If anything, I admire you more. Being a parent is no easy task, and yet, here you are.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “You really mean that?”

He nodded. “Of course. I’d love to meet Hana whenever you’re ready. But even if it takes time, know that this doesn’t scare me away. If I’m dating you, I’m also accepting every part of your life, including her.”

At that moment, you knew Namjoon was someone you could truly trust.

↝Jin

Jin nearly choked on his food when you blurted out your confession over dinner. “You have a what?!”

You flinched at his volume, looking down at your plate. “A son. His name is Minho… he’s six.”

Jin blinked rapidly, his mouth opening and closing. “Wait, hold on—why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I was scared,” you admitted. “Scared you wouldn’t want to be with someone who already has a child.”

Jin let out a deep sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… I won’t lie, I’m a little shocked. But not because it’s a bad thing. Just… I didn’t expect it.”

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I understand if this is too much.”

Jin frowned and reached across the table to take your hand. “Hey, don’t say that. I just need some time to wrap my head around it. But if you think I’d leave you just because you have a kid, you clearly don’t know how stubborn I am.”

You laughed weakly, the tension easing.

“I mean,” Jin continued, smirking, “if he likes dad jokes, I think we’ll get along just fine.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Maybe, just maybe, things would work out.

↝Yoongi

Yoongi sat in silence after you told him. He wasn’t angry or upset, just deep in thought.

After a long pause, he finally spoke. “How old is your kid?”

“Three,” you said softly. “Her name is Jiyeon.”

Yoongi nodded, then leaned back against the couch. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I was scared you’d leave.”

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his temples. “Do you really think so little of me?”

Your heart clenched. “No! It’s just… a lot of people wouldn’t want to date someone with a child.”

He stared at you for a moment before shaking his head. “That’s bullshit. If I like you, I like all of you. That includes Jiyeon.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “So… you don’t mind?”

Yoongi scoffed. “Why would I? If anything, I respect you even more. Raising a child isn’t easy, and you’re doing it.”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

Yoongi smirked slightly. “Though… I should warn you, I’m not great with kids.”

You chuckled. “Don’t worry, she’s good at making people fall for her.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like mother, like daughter, huh?”

You blushed, but you knew—this was Yoongi’s way of saying he was here to stay.

↝Jhope

You sat across from Hoseok in your small living room, your hands fidgeting in your lap. Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Hoseok noticed your nervousness and placed his hand over yours. “Y/N, what’s wrong? You’ve been so tense lately.”

You took a deep breath, squeezing his hand. “Hobi… there’s something I need to tell you.”

He nodded, his expression soft. “You can tell me anything.”

You hesitated, then finally spoke. “I have a son. His name is Minjae, and he’s four years old.”

Silence. Hoseok blinked, as if processing your words. His grip on your hand never loosened, but you couldn’t read his expression.

“You… you have a kid?” His voice was quiet, uncertain.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Yes. I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid. Not everyone is willing to date someone who already has a child.”

Hoseok suddenly let out a breath, and then—he laughed. It wasn’t mocking, but rather full of warmth and joy. You stared at him, confused.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you had me so scared! I thought you were about to break up with me or something!”

Your eyes widened. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” Hoseok grinned. “Y/N, this is amazing! I love kids! And now I get to love you and your son? This is the best news ever!”

Your breath hitched. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do!” He beamed, eyes sparkling. “Minjae, huh? Oh, I bet he’s adorable! When can I meet him?”

Tears welled in your eyes. “You… you really want to meet him?”

Hoseok took both your hands in his, squeezing them gently. “Y/N, I’m serious about you. That means I’m serious about Minjae, too. I want to be part of your lives, if you’ll let me.”

At that moment, you knew—Hoseok was truly someone special.

↝Jimin

Jimin hummed softly as he stirred his tea, his eyes on you. “You’ve been acting a little distant lately, Y/N. What’s on your mind?”

You opened your mouth but hesitated. How could you tell him? What if he thought you were too much trouble?

Sensing your hesitation, Jimin reached for your hand. “Hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay. You can tell me anything.”

Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke. “Jimin… I have a daughter. Her name is Ara, and she’s four.”

Jimin’s hand froze around his mug, his lips parting in surprise. His eyes widened slightly, but there was no judgment in them—just quiet shock.

“A daughter?” he repeated, as if making sure he heard correctly.

You nodded, heart hammering. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but I was scared. I didn’t know how you’d react.”

Jimin set his mug down and turned to face you fully. “Y/N… I won’t lie, this is unexpected.”

Your stomach clenched. Here it comes—the rejection.

But instead, Jimin reached up, cupping your cheek gently. “But why would you think I’d leave because of that?”

Tears pricked your eyes. “Because not everyone wants to take on something like this.”

Jimin’s gaze softened. “Y/N… I love you. And that means I love all of you—including Ara.”

Your breath hitched. “You really mean that?”

He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Of course. If she’s anything like you, I already know she’s the most precious thing in the world.”

Tears spilled over as you clung to him. “You’re really not scared?”

Jimin chuckled, rubbing your back. “Maybe a little. But I’d be honored to get to know her.”

At that moment, you knew—you and Ara had just gained someone truly special.

↝Taehyung

Taehyung sat beside you on your couch, his arm lazily draped over your shoulders. He was humming a song, completely unaware of the internal battle raging inside you.

“Taehyung… there’s something I need to tell you.”

He turned to you immediately, his eyes filled with curiosity. “What is it, love?”

You swallowed, gripping your hands together. “I… I have a son. His name is Daehyun. He’s five.”

Taehyung froze. His usual playful expression shifted into something unreadable. For a moment, you panicked. Was he upset?

Then, suddenly, he gasped.

“You have a kid?!” His voice was full of excitement, not anger.

Your eyes widened. “Uh… yes?”

Taehyung’s entire face lit up. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?! This is amazing!”

You blinked. “You… you think so?”

He nodded vigorously. “Of course! Kids are incredible! And if he’s anything like you, I already know he’s amazing.”

Your heart swelled. “I was scared you’d leave.”

Taehyung frowned, grabbing both your hands. “Y/N, don’t ever think that. If I love you, I love all of you. And that includes Daehyun.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “You really mean that?”

Taehyung nodded, grinning. “Yes! Can I meet him soon? I wanna be the cool parent.”

You laughed through your tears, your heart finally feeling at peace.

↝Jungkook

Jungkook fidgeted with his sleeves, glancing at you curiously. “Y/N, you’ve been acting kinda off lately. Is something wrong?”

You hesitated, your heart hammering in your chest. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Jungkook sat up straight. “Okay… I’m listening.”

Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke. “I have a son. His name is Jisoo, and he’s three.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. His lips parted slightly, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything.

Your stomach twisted. “I understand if this is too much for you.”

Jungkook shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I’m just… surprised.”

You bit your lip, waiting for his next words.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I won’t lie, this is new to me. I don’t know much about kids, and I don’t know if I’d be good at this.”

Your chest ached. “I understand.”

“But,” Jungkook continued firmly, “I want to try.”

Your eyes widened. “You… do?”

He nodded, determination burning in his gaze. “I really like you, Y/N. And if Jisoo is part of your life, then I want to be part of his, too.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted, squeezing your hands. “I might mess up. I might be awkward. But I promise, I’ll do my best.”

You threw your arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

He held you close, whispering, “I’m not going anywhere.”

At that moment, you knew—you and Jisoo had just gained someone who would love you both unconditionally.

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