#i feel so much pressure not to disappoint him

[grudgecollector]

hii queen! i saw that your requests are open, could you write something with daryl and a reader in the earlier seasons who are dating in secret? (they dont want no one to know because daryl is new to relationships and i believe he would be more reserved a little in the beggining), however the group ended up noticing how soft he is to her and how he always keep an eye on her😩 and also i just wanted to say that i read some of yours writtings and they are amazing💕💕

Gimme Shelter | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Tags: Swearing, twd typical violence, kind of slow burn, fluff, lightish angst, half proof-read

Words: 4.4k

A/N: Fank you so much nonny 💖😭 I've been really enjoying writing for Daryl, he was one of my biggest obsessions as a teenager, and that obsession will continue to prevail.

And this is such a cute request, I love secret relationship tropes so much. I decided to do Prison era!Daryl if that's okay, I assume you probably meant for like season 1 or 2, but I felt like it would be cute in the prison.

I know that a slow burn wasn't requested BUT the thoughts just kept coming the more I wrote. Also sorry this took so long to post.

Growing up people would always say you will find the one when you least expect it. Whether it’s in a grocery store, at the park, in a museum. That one person you’re bound to spend the rest of your life with will be there. As if they were waiting for you, and you for them. It was a fairytale dream, one that you lost faith in long ago. 

There were moments you had thought that maybe you finally found that person. Until disappointment would strike time and time again. Your experience with relationships had been less than ideal, never lasting longer than a year. Cheaters, liars, and worst of all abusers. Those types of men had always been the most drawn to you. Making you feel as if you were cursed somehow, unlucky. 

After a while and a slew of pity attempts, you gave up on dating for your own benefit. Deciding it would be best to focus more on yourself. Not allowing yourself to succumb to the societal pressure of getting married by twenty and popping kids out by twenty one. 

That was the dream of a delusional small town teenager, too young to think for themselves let alone plan a future family, and that had been your dream once upon a time. Maybe you read too many stories about young girls finding their prince charming and living happily ever after.

You started to value your alone time. Enjoying the feeling of not having to walk on eggshells in order to keep the other party happy. Things were smooth sailing for about two years. You changed your life around, got a new job, a new car, and a new apartment all within a few months. 

A newfound happiness was settling inside of you, you were beginning to find yourself again. You became more confident in who you were as a person, allowing yourself to actually live your life instead of just simply being alive. 

But life had a twisted sense of humor. 

Things started with frantic breaking news segments on the news. Reporters talking about the horrifying developments coming out of France. In the beginning you had hoped that things wouldn’t escalate past that, hoped that this would be an isolated incident. But things just got worse the more you watched. An unknown virus wreaking havoc across the entirety of Europe, spreading like wildfire across each country. 

After the first case of the virus was reported in Ohio, you started to worry. Things were getting too close for your liking, and with the details they were releasing it wasn’t going to get any better. With each new segment that aired your mother would call, urgently telling you to come back to live with them until this sickness blows over. You knew that it would be your best bet. 

Once the local grocery stores started getting raided, you found yourself being thankful that your family was full of survivalist nuts. Growing up hearing them praise people like Jim Baker, and other televangelist hackjobs like him that weaponized fear mongering for profit. 

Your parents home was stocked full of all the essentials thanks to your aunt Jess. First aid kits, canned food, water to last just a little over a month. It was everything you needed and more. 

“Y’always gotta be prepared, honey.” Your wine-drunk aunt had told you after a week, the both of you lounging on the sofa as you watched the news. “You don’t know how long this crap’s gonna last.” 

It all went by so quickly. The news stations eventually stopped airing not long after the first report hit Georgia, they were urging everyone to evacuate to Atlanta, leaving the streets a mess of honking and dead-stop traffic right outside of your parent’s home. 

And for a short while you had settled into this false hope that you were safe there with them. 

That was until you came back from a short trip to a ransacked Dollar General just down the street. 

The house was oddly quiet when you walked inside. The TV was muted on a flickering static screen, your dad’s recliner was empty, a blanket on the floor. The backdoor that led to the porch was ajar, the sun shining through the crack onto the wood flooring. You remembered that feeling in your stomach as you walked closer, fingers slowly curling around the doorknob. 

When you walked outside it felt as if a bucket of ice water was dumped over your head. The horrifying sight of your mother’s body being gutted by your own father and uncle, fresh blood dripped down the side of the RV next to your aunt’s already mangled corpse. Your hands were trembling fiercely, a nauseating coppery smell filling your nose. 

All you could remember was running. Packing whatever you could get your hands on before taking your mother’s minivan.  

Not long after the death of your family, you were taken in by a small group of five. They were unstable, barely hanging on by a thread, with almost nightly arguments tilting them further over the edge. 

It made things harder for you. The tension starting to make you too nervous to sleep without a knife tucked securely under your pillow. 

The self appointed leader demanded too much, wanting more than half of the rations to himself. He was a cruel hearted individual, mind diluted by the atrocities you were all forced to witness. A dangerous man who was quick tempered, and ruthless to anything or anybody you came across. 

After a month of running with them you made a mistake. You hid a portion of your findings from him. Food that he would have taken the majority of. But you were starving, at the point of hardly caring about your survival if it meant you could eat just a little bit more.

Other members had found out though, outing you quickly. As a punishment he tied you up, stole everything from you. Photo albums, your weapons, your food, bandages, it didn’t matter what it was. After beating you he left you in the supply closet of a convenient store you were temporarily camping out in. 

Part of you half expected them to come back, but you knew better than to think positively now, that could get you killed nowadays. 

The minutes blended into hours into what felt like days. The zip ties around your wrists and ankles dug harshly into your skin, biting into the raw bleeding flesh as you struggled to free yourself. Eventually it got to the point where you started slipping in and out of consciousness, your body exhausted and dehydrated. You were sure you would die there. 

But, much to your surprise, your luck hadn’t run dry just yet. 

In your haze you could hear the sound of once shuffling corpses hit against the door with a heavy thud. Hushed voices barely graced your ears through the door, two men talking to each other. 

Your voice was hoarse as you pathetically attempted to call out. Your throat was dry from the lack of water, forcing your words to come out as a croaking squeak.  

The door had been opened cautiously, the beam of a flashlight assaulting your eyes. You attempted to focus on the man crouching down above you, his blurred features obscured by the baseball hat he wore. 

“Rick!” The man called over his shoulder, another figure coming into view. He was wearing what seemed to be a police officer’s uniform. Whether it was stolen or actually his, you didn’t care, you just wanted out of this damn closet. 

Both men were quick to cut your binds and hauled you to your feet. The quick motion was all it took for you to finally pass out. A thick blanket of exhaustion pressed into you, forcing your eyes to flutter closed and your body to go completely limp. Unable to cling onto consciousness any longer

In those last moments you almost thought that they would just leave you there. Not wanting to bother helping a now passed out stranger, and you wouldn’t have blamed them if they did abandon you. 

Instead when you woke up you were laying on a couch, an older man with short white hair standing over you. 

At first you had almost believed you dreamed it all, the outbreak, the group. That you were in some sort of comatose state and the world was not overrun by flesh eating monsters. But the stinging pain deep within your wrists proved otherwise, the gashes covered by white gauze and medical tape. 

The white haired man, Hershel, ran you through your current state. Malnourishment, dehydration, feverish temperatures. It was evidently clear that you had been through the wringer, and if Glenn and Rick had not found you when they did, you would have died within the day. In fact he had said it was a miracle that Hershel himself could have saved you. 

You figured you had always been stubborn, though, you never gave up easily. 

Hershel had been kind enough to allow you to stay in his house until you got better. Providing you with enough water and food to get you back on your feet. 

The family allowed you to use their shower. When you looked at yourself in the mirror you understood why they were so insistent. A thick layer of grime and blood coated your skin, your hair was matted, your clothes ripped beyond repair. 

You couldn’t help but cry, realizing just how quickly you lost yourself out there. Your humanity has faded so much in such a short amount of time, leaving you a hollow shell of your former self. You looked like a stranger to yourself.

Over the next week Rick’s group urged you to stay. They knew you had nowhere else to go, no family to run back to. 

You were hesitant, though. You didn’t want to continue to be a burden, you were a stranger infiltrating an already close knit group. The closeness they had made you feel even more lonely than you did in your previous group, because at least when it came to them, you didn’t crave that companionship. 

Gone were the days of blind trust, knowing that everything always came with a price these days. So your knife stayed tucked beneath your pillow, fingers clutching onto the handle as you kept an eye on the zipped up entrance of the tent. 

On many sleepless nights, which were frequent, you would sit yourself in front of the dwindling fire outside of your tent. Mind wandering to everything that’s happened to you in the past three months, the things you’ve done to stay alive, the permanent scars you would carry with you for life. 

You stewed in your bitterness. Chewing ruthlessly on the skin around your fingernails. 

Your tent was further away from the rest of the group’s, tucked away in your own area. You found yourself watching the rest of them at first. Thoughts of running away while everyone slept crossed your mind more times than you could count. 

Until one night you heard a twig snap behind you, your knife quickly unsheathed and pointing towards what you thought to be a threat, 

“Geez. You’re almost as bad as Daryl.” One of the older men from Rick’s group, Dale, chuckled as he walked closer to your secluded camp, his hands up in surrender. “But I can go if you want.” He smiled softly. 

“Sorry… Bad habit.” You said quietly, setting your knife back down next to your thigh. 

He shook his head, taking a seat in front of the fire, “No need to be sorry. I can’t blame you for still being a little paranoid.” 

Dale quickly became a source of comfort for you, sporting an almost fatherly personality when talking to you. He was kind, and realistic which was exactly what you needed after everything you’ve been through. Over the course of a few nightly visits he was able to get you to open up a little, telling him about your former group, he was sympathetic and understanding. 

“The world has truly gone to hell.” He grimaced, taking his bucket hat off of his head. “But, we have good people here. Believe it or not.” His smile was reassuring. 

After a few days you started to come around more. Helping the women with laundry, listening to the stories they told about their lives before, anecdotes to keep themselves sane. 

It wasn’t hard to understand why they were so close. The tragedy of their former camp just outside of Atlanta, the C.D.C, Lori’s son getting shot, the people they’ve lost along the way. 

Slowly you felt more like yourself again.

Every so often they would mention that same name Dale did, Daryl. The only member of the group you had yet to meet personally. 

You had seen him walking around the camp, or tucked away in his own tent, further away from the group much like yours was. He was gruff looking, intimidating to the eye, and his occasional temper didn’t help much. But with how insistent he was on finding Carol’s missing daughter, you could tell there was warmth beneath his rigid exterior. 

The first time you talked to him was less than ideal. You were attempting to set up a snare trap in the woods, wanting to try and contribute a little bit more. The frustration quickly turned to embarrassment when he snuck up on you. Your feet got caught in your own trap and caused you to trip and fall. 

“Looks like y’caught somethin’.” Daryl attempted to joke, walking past you and deeper into the woods with his crossbow pointed towards the trees. 

You cut yourself free of the poorly made snare and ran to catch up with him. Choosing your words carefully. 

“Daryl, right?” All you got was a grumble in response, “Listen I know you don’t know me or anythin’... But could you teach me how to hunt?” 

“Teach yourself. I ain’t got time for babysittin’.” His response stung a little, harsher than you had hoped it would be. 

You figured you should have expected that, though, the conversation him and Shane had this morning was heated. An argument almost leading to a full on fight. The tension was growing higher and higher as the days dragged on with no signs of Sophia. 

Then the group found out about what was inside the barn.

One day when Rick was out helping Hershel, Shane took it upon himself to break the chains on the barn door. Walker after walker spilled out, being shot down ruthlessly by some members of Rick’s group, while the Greene family cried out for them to stop. Their worst nightmare coming true, as well as Carol’s. 

A little girl limped out, skin grey and beginning to rot. Her hair was matted with leaves, eyes a milky grey color, and a rasping snarl emitting from her. There was a large gash on her shoulder, a bite. It was devastating to see a child fall victim to such a death. But even more so for Carol, coming to realize that each day they restlessly searched, she had already been dead.. 

The safety that the farm provided didn’t last long after that. 

Shane was quickly losing his grip, Dale was killed by a lone walker, and eventually the fields were overrun by walkers. A massive hoard stumbling onto the property, drawn in by the frequent gunfire. 

You had lost quite a few on that night, good people that had helped you come out of your shell, people that didn’t deserve what they got. In all honesty you didn’t think you would have made it out either if it wasn’t for Andrea and Daryl. 

After the fall of the farm, you were all lost. Hershel and his family had lost their home, and the entire group was left to search. 

But you had to bury your sadness for the time being, winter was quickly approaching. The leaves were changing into a crisp orange color, and the wind had a bite to it in the mornings, leaving you shivering as you huddled closer to the fire. Daryl had been kind enough to let you borrow his poncho some nights, insisting you probably needed it more than him. 

Daryl seemed to warm up to you after a while too. He would subtly make sure you ate by leaving a half eaten can of vegetables next to you, or would occasionally sharpen your knife for you after doing his own. It was a kind gesture, letting you know that he was starting to trust you. 

Eventually it got to the point where your group finally ran out of canned food. There were no stores around, and everyone was too cold or tired to go anywhere. So Daryl decided to take you out to the woods, finally going out of his way to teach you how to hunt. 

“Y’know what you’re trackin’?” He asked one day, slowly walking beside you, following a small winding trail in the woods. 

You were quiet for a second, thinking as you analyzed the tracks next to your feet, “Could be a deer, whatever it is, it’s got hooves.” 

“Obviously.” He huffed, resisting the urge to smile when you glared at him. 

“Shut the hell up, man.” A small sigh came from you, “Could be a hog.” You crouched down and moved the leaves out of the way to get a better look, “The prints are close together, if it were a deer they’d be further apart, right?” 

Daryl just shrugged, “You tell me.” 

That’s how your hunts would usually go, Daryl providing frustrating nonanswers as you attempted to close in on your prey. He wasn’t going to babysit you, as he had originally said when you first asked, you had to figure it out yourself. You knew that was the only way you’d be able to learn, even if it was mildly annoying. 

The winter finally started to melt into spring, temperatures rising and falling occasionally until settling into an in between. And soon enough your restless searching came to an end, the high chain link fences surrounding a prison with walkers meandering the expansive field calling your names. A soon to be shelter for your group and many others. 

The fight against Woodbury had been a painful ordeal, with Maggie and Glenn getting taken hostage, and Daryl leaving with his brother. The group was briefly left in shambles, hanging on by a thread as Rick slowly faded away, losing his way after Lori’s untimely death and the birth of her daughter. 

When Daryl left it broke your heart a little. The two of you had bonded over the course of the harsh winter, often seeking each other out as a heat source. Whispering stories of your families filling the silence as the biting wind wrapped itself around you. But you could never blame him for leaving, knowing you would do the same thing if you could. 

The first attack from the Governor was when Daryl finally returned, his mouthy brother in tow. They had rescued Rick on the outskirts of the fence, luckily finding him just in time before he was overpowered. 

It made you happy to see your friend again, a hand squeezing his shoulder before pulling him into a hug. It had been a lot less awkward than you expected, his arms wrapping around your middle and squeezing softly, reassuring you that he was okay. 

“Well, ain’t that just cute.” Merle had teased, pinching his little brother on the cheek. 

But the tragedies were never ending, your group seemed to constantly be one step away from death’s doorstep. 

The Governor decided to make his way back to the prison, armed gunmen following behind him. 

They wanted to execute every last one of you no matter what it took. Your group had laid out traps, pretending to have left as requested, lulling them in with a false hope that you were gone. Until the shrill sound of the prison sirens started, smoke grenades being thrown down at their feet in the darkened hallways. 

The armed militia of men, mothers, and teenagers the Governor recruited had run away in fear, knowing that their fates would be sealed if they stayed any longer. 

As the weeks continued after the attack, things started to look up. That once forgotten positivity slowly makes its way back into your heart, along with a smile as you allow yourself to get to know the former residence of Woodbury. Your community was slowly forming, a home being made out of the prison. 

It was easy to become comfortable. 

And as your fondness grew for Daryl, you remembered what your mother used to tell you. 

“You will find the one when you least expect it.” 

Who knew that the world had to end in order for you to find him. With every soft touch, lingering whisper, and a quick stolen kiss in the shadows of your cell, it grew increasingly more obvious that your mother may have been right. 

Daryl was the only person you felt safe enough to be vulnerable around. His gentleness towards you breaking down the walls around your heart, settling himself deep within it. And you gladly let him. You both decided to keep your relationship a secret. Enjoying the thrill of sneaking around, while also avoiding any teasing remarks that would come from your group. 

You knew that this was Daryl’s first serious relationship, so you wanted to allow him the grace of warming up to the idea. You wanted him to become more comfortable with himself, taking his time with you, soothing any anxious wandering thought he may have. 

But you knew that the group would notice eventually. Hell, they already were. The small teasing remarks being thrown your way would make Daryl stiffen. He would pick at the strings on his denim jacket as he huffed and grumbled something in response. 

“You want me to slip her a note or somethin’?” Carol teased him, nudging her elbow into his side, “Do you like me? Check yes or no.” She laughed quietly when he rolled his eyes, “Come on Daryl-” 

She was cut off by someone running up to him, Glenn’s frantic eyes meeting Daryl and Carol’s before quickly sputtering out your name, “I don’t know what happened but-” 

The poor boy could barely get the words out before Daryl ran off towards the cell block. 

You were laying in your cell, blood covering your shirt as your side bled profusely. Hershel was quick to try and stop the bleeding, urging everyone to give him room to work. 

“If you want her to live, get out, now!” 

The blood drained from Daryl’s face as he looked at you. Bruises were beginning to bloom on your face and arms, your nose was bleeding and there was a slash on your cheek. Your boyfriend directed his anger towards one of the new members you had taken on a run, pinning him roughly against the concrete wall with his forearm. 

“The hell happened out there?! Huh?!” Daryl shouted in the scared man’s face, shrinking in on himself as Rick and Maggie tried to pull Daryl off. “Talk!” 

“We-” The man gulped, “We got attacked by a small group…” There were tears in his eyes as he tried to explain, his swollen lip trembling. He didn’t look much better than you did honestly, his eye was almost swollen shut, and there was blood coating his hairline, “She said- said she knew them, some group she was with. I thought they were gonna k-kill us.” He swallowed harshly, “They shot her…”

Daryl swore he could see red. His shoulders heaving as he started to pace, fingers running through his hair as he tried to process what the man had said. His face was hot, body pulsing with anger as he glanced back into your cell to see you lying there motionless. 

He stalked back up towards the man, his gaze hard and threatening as he spoke in a gruff voice, “If she dies, her blood is on your hands.” He pressed his finger hard into the man’s chest, pushing him harshly back into the concrete wall before stalking towards the exit of the prison. 

It took the entire council to talk Daryl out of hunting this group down himself. Carol telling him it was a suicide mission, and he would die if he left like this. Going into a situation blinded by rage was never good for anyone, especially now, with you lying unconscious in your cell. 

Luckily for you the bullet went straight through, and all they had to do was wait for you to wake up. 

Daryl didn’t dare leave your side, a rag gently dabbing across your forehead as he whispered softly to you. Unspoken words that he had wished he had told you sooner, words that only you were allowed to hear him say, something he had never dared utter to another person. Not even his own family. 

“I love you.” 

The time seemed to drag on slowly as he waited, his watchful not leaving you for more than a few seconds. His gentle fingers traced patterns on your skin, ignoring the occasional staring that would come from someone passing by your cell. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the secrecy, not now. 

“That fuckin’ tickles.” He suddenly heard you rasp, your eyes fluttering open and glancing down at his fingers on your forearm. 

Relief washed over Daryl like cool rain on a hot summer's day. His shoulders sagged and he couldn’t help but lean his head down to rest on your arm, a long sigh being released from his lungs. 

“Daryl…” You whispered, making him look at you, “It was my old group.” 

The look on your face was similar to the one you sported when they first found you, terrified, lost, confused. You didn’t know what to do with yourself knowing that not only were they still alive, but a lot closer than you would have liked. 

“I know.” He replied, his hand holding onto yours, “You don’t have t’worry about that right now.” 

Even though you were able to find happiness in the apocalypse, tragedy never ceased to sneak up from behind every corner. And you guessed that it had become easy to forget that life had a cruel sense of humor. 

It always would.

[iamhereinthebg]

Heya Anon! (I speedran this doodle because I got emotionnal)

I see the vision, I used to be insane about the possiblity of a Teru and Nene's friendship, they would be so so funny together :DD

I also like the idea of Teru needing a friend who is more.. chill ? Nene judges him a lot for random stuff in canon but it's really not the same as Akane or Aoi who are just 'this guy is truly insane ._.' (and good for them tbh love them a lot) And she still goes sparkly eyes for him sometimes even when he says the most insane things and I like that sm

(in french he says: "And well, I am the embodiment/personification of beauty" I find it wonderful either way)

And Nene having someone who could teach her stuff about the supernatural world while judging her hard af for how she acts around them sometimes would be a really funny dynamic too. None of them would have chill with the other but I think this is why it could be so good. And Teru would be overjoyed to teach her stuff (in the hope she would destroy Hanako, this is the true motivation)

They truly would be a no braincells duo

(an old doodle I still love a lot this guy is a disaster at handling people showing emotions in front of him)

And they do care for each other in canon , their teamup for the new timeline was really cute :DD

(I am just sad we didn't have much but lol I won't talk about the disappointement that this arc is for me :'))

I agree that they would watch random stuff together especially because Teru doesn't have much knowledges in that and Nene may have... too much. I truly think they could be great friends (and Nene has the patience of a saint have you seen her with Mitsuba or even Hanako? ToT She would be able to handle Teru)

I used to be obsessed with the Survivor quartet as I call them (Akane, Nene, Teru and Kou) and I have a tag for them #survivorquartet with random doodles/hcs if you need more stuff :DD (most are really old so some of my opinion has changed izvkdvd)

Little comic I did of them that I still love a lot, help this poor girl she needs it

And don't be ashamed to post if you want to, I am sure you're not the only one liking this friendship :DD Especially since you're talking about a fic! This means others people like it too! (and even if that wasn't the case, be free Anon this is honestly how you can have the most fun in a fandom, my main metaphor is the sandbox in a corner doing whatever and sometimes some people go to talk with you, this is the funniest part of being in a fandom for me :))

And if you're bothered about the ship you can just say in the tags that it's platonic. That's something I did once and most people respected to not tag it with the ship name ^^ Fandom and posting are supposed to be fun so you shouldn't feel pressured by it but I understand if you're scared/don't know if you wanna post, take your time :))) I believe in youuuu

I hope you have a great day Anon and thanks for the ask it made me happy to retalk about them :DD

[junedenim]

2016

beneath the boardwalk, part 14 (series masterlist)

used to be my girl

warnings: ...i don't know at this point. let it be a surprise.

word count: 8.5k

January turns me into a bitter, restless being. I feel a need to be everywhere, yet I am too cold to move. I stay under my bed covers and rot. Unlike past winters, I had a watchman to make sure I didn’t slip into complete hibernation, and though I grew my hair long and had less care for what clothes I wore under my coat, I didn’t feel the need to set my apartment on fire.

George’s look hardened in winter, but his spirit didn’t. His smile glowed like the star on top of the tree. He shovelled the snow off my apartment steps, granting me favour with neighbors I previously thought hated me.

Mr. & Mrs. Sanders, who lived below me in the grand apartment on the first floor, gifted me a peanut butter fudge. Mrs. Sanders was quite disappointed to learn George didn’t actually live there. I was terrified she would revoke the dessert. I already shoved one in my mouth and nearly moaned at the delightful taste. Thankfully, they left the dessert with me and invited George and me over for dinner.

After the mouth-watering dinner, when George and I ascended the stairs to my apartment, I told him, “I can never break up with you ‘cause I think she’ll kill me if I do.”

He kissed my cheek. “Good.”

Should I have feared losing him or Mrs. Sanders and her kitchen knives?

*

My New Year’s resolution was to read more. George was the kind of man who believed in those wishful things. He had everyone who worked at the bookstore write one and pin it to the wall. He pinned mine next to his and cited me as an honour member. It felt like too much pressure not to uphold, especially when he gave me free books.

I started big, so I didn’t have to worry what he thought of me for not making it through a 100-page book. So, I cracked War & Peace open on the 10th.

I was two pages in when Alex called me.

“David Bowie died,” he told me.

It felt like every piece of news we exchanged that year was wrapped in somber tones. It wasn’t intentional. These were somber years. It was like god had died. We had to discuss everything. Nothing felt real until I knew what he thought about it and vice versa, I suspect. Unfortunately, Bowie was the first of these phone calls.

When I told Alex about my reading, he uttered, “Fuck. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“If I accidentally drop the book, it could take off my foot.” The nearly 1,500 pages weighed around a newborn baby. “If I start now, I might be finished by the time I’m in a nursing home.”

He laughed at me. “Why didn’t you start with something lighter?”

I stood to grab a snack from the kitchen. My stomach rumbled. We’d been on the phone for a while. “Because I’m trying to be impressive. I might Anna Karenina myself.”

“See,” he said, “you’re already a Russian lit expert. When did you read Anna Karenina?”

George was due to come over in less than a half hour after work. He was making me a Greek chicken with cucumber-feta salad for dinner. I don’t know a single person who is healthier than George. I suppose none of them live in New York and smoke cigarettes like all my friends do. I snacked on a bag of chips. “I watched the movie.”

I could picture his smile. “I think War & Peace has a movie if you feel like giving up.”

“It’s alternative viewing, not giving up,” I reasoned. He was amused by that too. “Is it warm there? It’s freezing here.” I never named LA; it was simply there for me. New York was here.

“15 degrees or something,” he told me. No one I knew spoke in Celsius. It felt like order was restored. “The sky is crying a little. Been inside all day.”

I sat on the edge of my bed and placed the throw blanket over me. “It’s below freezing here. It’s crazy how different it can be when we’re in the same country.” Things were different when we were in the same city. I don’t know why a whole country between us would be any different.

“It was above 30 on me birthday.”

I stilled. “Shit.”

“It’s okay.” He laughed, but I wasn’t finding humour in the situation. I didn’t call him. No text. No “Happy Birthday.”

I clutched my hand over my head. “No, it’s not. I feel awful! I’ve barely been able to keep track of what day it is. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care, Jane. I got to avoid your relentless jokes.” Alex last cared about a birthday around 18. I guess after that birthdays matter less and less.

“Oh, my god!” I pained myself. “I had a boatload of 30-year-old jokes. I even wrote them down.”

“Skipping your mocking was birthday present enough. It gives me a chance to come up with some for your birthday.” 

I pouted. “That’s not very generous.”

“Boo woo. I’ll give you In Search of Lost Time for your birthday.” 3,200 pages. I’ll be reading it in the grave.

*

George and I followed a screening of Brooklyn with lunch at his favourite delicatessen where he ate a huge hoagie and I had a bagel. “When she goes back to Ireland it makes me miss England,” I confessed to him. “You forgot how much you miss it until you’re back.”

“I couldn’t imagine being that far from home.” His parents lived an hour away in Yonkers. He visited one weekend a month. His family was close in a way I had never seen with any other family. He didn’t have the happiest of childhoods, yet he still adored his parents.

“It hasn’t been home for a while. I’ve been in the States for almost a decade. It’s weird to think about.”

“Do you think you’ll live here forever?”

I said, “I think so,” but I didn’t really. I couldn’t imagine having children who have American accents. It’s a grim thought.

*

Womb launched on Valentine’s Day because Opal thought it would be cute and an excuse to say she had plans for the day as a single woman. We had a small party at George’s bookstore and on the tispy walk back to my apartment, Alex called me. I picked up the phone and squeezed George’s hand.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hey. I like your Womb.”

I snorted uglily. “You’ve been waiting to say. I can tell.”

“Low-hanging fruit,” he conceded. “But I do like it.”

(For the briefest of moments, I thought he meant my actual womb. I was a little slow from the wine.) “Really?”

“Yeah. How could I not? I like everything you write.” He was always sincere in the practice. He never strayed.

We were stopped on a street corner. “I don’t know. It means a lot coming from you. You know that.”

“You never fail to impress me,” he said. “You know that.”

I ducked my head down and hoped from the icy air to chill my burning red cheeks. I hoped to turn them pink from the wind and hide this secret of mine. “Thank you,” I whispered. Too pure to acknowledge above a whisper.

We listened to each other’s breathing. Then, the moment passed. “Well, I’ve got to head out.”

“Valentine’s Day plans?”

“Yeah. Just a nice dinner.”

“Have fun.”

“You too. Night, Janie.”

I put my phone back in my purse and laughed. I thought of how we both had wished one another to have a good lay. Oh, how far we’ve come.

“Was that Alex?” George interrupted my giggles.

The light turned green and we began to cross. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

He looked straight ahead. “You always talk different when you’re on the phone with him.”

“How so?” I crossed my brows, but I wasn’t confused by what he was saying. I knew how I talked. I knew how my tone toward Alex could be ever since Stacey teased me about it in our youth.

George shrugged. “I can’t decode it, but I can tell.” He put a smile on and looked at me. “Should we stop for dessert?”

*

I had a rubbish 30th birthday. I found another decade to be disagreeable. I didn’t think turning the big 3-0 would affect me so deeply and I don’t believe it really did. Really, the better part of three vodka martinis (it felt like an adult drink, okay!) and the aged rotten thought that I was too old to still be having nights like this was what ruined 30 for me.

On the morning of my 30th—a Saturday, the best day of the week to have a birthday—I indulged in the pleasures of a cigarette indoors. It was my gift to myself. George had a late night at the bookstore and decided to stay there, but we had plans for the afternoon into the night.

Stacey called me while I nursed a cup of coffee and I laughed at all her jokes about me being a sorry old cunt now. She was living in London with her boyfriend. She had a job as an actuarial analyst, not that I really knew what that was (or is). She had always been above my head in smarts, let alone in maths. When she laughed, I felt like a riptide had pulled me away from her. My joints ached in the non-arthritis way, and part of my soul cried, but I laughed instead because she has the most infectious laugh. You just have to hear it to feel it.

I decided to treat myself to a pastry from the corner cafe. My birthday was reserved for plump sugar delights that I would later find regrettable, but they tasted so sweet going down. While finishing off a cinnamon roll, I unlocked my mailbox.

I think one of the best parts of your birthday is getting mail that isn’t bills. Of course, there was still some mixed in with the handwritten notes. I had already received most of the cards early and they lined the shelf by the front door.

Fennel and Kaka had sent me one. Like most gifts from them, it was too much—a beautiful card I would get framed and $100. When I (lackadaisically) tried to refuse it, they insisted I keep and said sweet things about me being their surrogate daughter and then I cried because I was 30 and drunk.

With sticky fingers, I came across a blue envelope with that scrawl I knew too well. I waited until I was sitting on the middle of my bed to open it. I was delicate with it until I spotted 100 in big, bold red letters. The card’s print read, “At 100, you're still playing with a full deck, you just shuffle slower.”

I laid back with a giggle and no longer felt so painfully old. On the inside, he wrote, “Saw this and thought of you. I’m afraid we need a gin rummy rematch. My record is in dire need of repair. I hope to recover before we’re 31. Happy birthday, Janie. I think you’ll find 30 to suit you. Love, Alex.” In different penmanship right below was “& Taylor & Scooter.” She wrote it in a red pen, which I found mildly offensive from my days of failed tests and edited manuscripts, but the gesture was nice considering I had no clue when her birthday was or how old she even was. 

Scooter was her dog, which now seemed to be their dog, and to the untrained eye, it could seem like a family. I placed the card on my chest right beside my heart. I waited for the beating to calm or at least to get used to this uneven breathing.

I didn’t place the card on my shelf. I stuffed it into the bottom of my bedside drawer like it was a bad omen. The card would appear more guilty in my drawer, and yet I felt that’s the only place it could be placed. I didn’t want to toss it, for some reason, but I couldn't bear to stare at it.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

It sounded itself every time my heart pounded against my ribcage.

I called George. He sang “Happy Birthday!” I placed my phone down on the bed while he did it. I waited until the faint sound of his singing voice had finished. “So,” he said, “how’s it feel?”

“30, flirty, and thriving,” I sighed.

He began to talk about our plans for later in the day, but I could only hear the beating of my heart. He was still talking when I said, “I’d like to get a turtle.”

“A turtle?”

“Yeah.” I grabbed my laptop for further research. “I would like a turtle for 30. I’ve always wanted one, and now I want to have what I want.”

“Alright, Veruca,” he declared.

I met George on Atlantic Ave where we grabbed lunch at French Louie’s, which is really just American food pretending to be French. There was a PetSmart down the street where I picked up Louie, my turtle.

Louie became my best friend in an instant. Turtles don’t tend to be viewed in the same light as dogs or cats. They aren’t affectionate figures, but that’s what I like. Louie felt like me. He swam around his tank and bit everyone’s finger except mine. I ate when Louie ate. Louie deserved everything, and I believe Louie thinks I deserve everything. He became a tracking device for me to take care of myself adequately.

But first, we had to set up the tank with the basking lights and filtered water. I had no issues doing this, but then again, George was the one who had to carry the tank up the stairs because I was in charge of Louie. When Louie was away swimming, I kissed George for all my thankfulness. 

Admittedly, it was irresponsible to leave Louie alone on his first night in a tank and I would not repeat this behaviour, but for his first night, he was left with plenty of care and the lights on. Louie doesn’t need me to take care of him. He’s always been a self-sufficient creature.

The plan was to have a rocking night. George had a friend who owned a bar in DUMBO and he sectioned off a corner of it for my birthday gathering. It wasn’t very many people because I was over spectacle but I still loved the thought of getting a shit pile of gifts for simply making through another year.

Nonetheless, all my friends were considerate with their gift giving and Opal had a friend who baked these delightful cakes because she has a friend for every occupation. It was a strawberry lemonade cake with a scattering of sliced strawberries on the top. I was spared of numbered candles, instead, there were just five candles on the cake because my birthday is on the 5th. I don’t recall what I wished for, but I hope it came true.

I sat in a corner wooden booth with Opal and Kaka. George and Fennel were talking to his bar owner friend, likely about the architecture of the building, you know, support beams and load-bearing walls, man stuff. The three of us sat with drinks in our hands and laughed at them.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Alex that read, “Has your back gone yet?”

I wrote back, “No, but I’ve only had two drinks and I already have a headache.”

A minute later, he pinged back, “Just wait until tomorrow and the day after and after that. You’ll feel normal in about a week.”

I nearly wrote back what I perceived to be a witty comment on mixing drugs and alcohol but I was distracted by Mina taking a picture of us and I never wrote Alex back, which is probably for the best. The text wasn’t so funny in the morning.

On the walk back to my apartment, I dragged my feet and laid my head on George’s arm. He was too tall for me to lay it on his shoulder. He was taller than any guy I had ever dated and I was still adjusting to how he towered over me.

I was tired and it was only around midnight. I hadn’t slept well the night before—pre-thirty jitters. I was hoping to get an Uber or taxi back to my apartment since there were no subway lines from the bar to my apartment but George insisted it wasn’t very far and a walk would do me good. He wasn’t wearing heels.

I was tempted to ask him to carry me. He was my strongest boyfriend and I believe he could have sustained the eleven-block walk with me on his back. I didn’t because I was wearing a short dress and worried my underwear would show when he lifted me.

“I’m sorry for hanging all over you,” I said to him.

He squeezed my side. “You’re fine. You’re a lightweight.”

I laughed at the inaccuracy. “Just tired. You should have seen me in college. I drank more than anyone you’ve ever met.”

“You were a party girl?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, sort of. Aren’t I still?”

He shrugged. “I guess. Galas are different than house parties.”

I stood up straight. My hand lowered off his shoulders to his upper back. “Yeah. I was queen of the kegger.”

He looked elated by this, laughing with fervor. “Guess it’s the Brit in you.”

I took my shoes off the moment we entered my apartment. I tossed my body on my bed and felt like maybe my back had gone out on the walk home. “What did you do for your 30th birthday?” I asked George.

He was still by the door, taking off his shoes. “I went to Disney.”

I shot up in bed. “You went to Disney?!”

“Yeah. My girlfriend had family in Florida and my family flew down. We spent a couple of days there.”

“And did what?”

He was bemused. He filled up a glass of water for himself. “Went to Disney.”

“For a couple of days?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty big. We should go. I mean, we could even go to the one in California so you can see all your friends.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“I mean, you talk about Alex all—”

“No, go to Disney. Why would I do that?”

“‘Cause it’s fun.”

“But it’s overrun with people and cheesy and I’m the most impatient person you know.”

He chuckled disingenuously. “Relax. I didn’t book any trips yet.”

“I’m tired,” I complained. I stood and looked at Louie swimming around his tank. I wondered if he was tired too. I wish I could swim. It was too cold in New York.

I wanted to go to England. I’m not sure where in England. Probably London with Stacey. My father was in Bath. My mother was between places. I know she briefly stayed at Greg’s house in Birmingham. Maybe I’d do a tour of England, everyone was so separated. Harper lived in Leeds. She had a baby in February, her fourth, a girl named Asha, who I had yet to meet. 

I was cold. We went to bed within the hour and I woke up the next morning with a migraine and that was 30.

*

I had little connection with Everything You’ve Come to Expect. I listened to it when it came out and I complimented Alex and Miles on it in a shared text. My favourite song is “Miracle Aligner” but maybe that’s because of Alexandra Savior and my fear of admitting I liked “Sweet Dreams, TN” or a deep relatability to “The Bourne Identity.” Both were too personal to Alex for us to discuss. 

So, later that month, when he called me to tell me Prince died. I said I liked “Miracle Aligner.”

It might be the only song from the album we ever discussed. When the music video came out about a month later, I told him I found it funny and asked why he was so tan, and that was that.

*

Baseball is boring. I don’t know much about any sport, but I know that’s true about baseball because even baseball fans say it’s boring. Not that I know many baseball fans. George liked baseball. He rooted for the Mets, which I thought was weird because I figured New Yorkers rooted for the Yankees but I don’t know much about baseball and I probably don’t know much about New York—the state.

We went to Citi Field for their first home game of the 2016 season. George, three of his friends, one of his friends’ girlfriend, and me. The friend’s girlfriend, Rachel, was 22 and finishing her last year at NYU. This friend was 12 years her senior and I found this to be quite Leonardo DiCaprio predatory, but she was nice and didn’t know anything about baseball either.

I sat between her and George, who attempted to teach me baseball, but I don’t like men explaining sports to you because it never makes sense and they always seem to have a way of explaining it in a misogynistic way. Besides, I’ve seen A League of Their Own.

George spilled his beer on me when a double hitter occurred. The sun was out but the day was cold and it left a chilly splash on the front of my shirt. I left to clean myself up and grab a hot dog. It was awful. I texted Alex, “Hot dogs at Mets game suck. Isn’t that baseball games’ thing?”

I went back to my seat and talked to Rachel for the rest of the game. I didn’t see any of George’s friends again but Rachel and I are still friends. To quote an immature man, “She keeps me young.”

*

When The Last Shadow Puppets came through New York, George and I went to the concert. After the show, we chatted with the Puppets and company, but we didn’t hang around for long. They were playing Coachella that weekend, so I don’t believe they hung around in the city for an endless bout of time. In the time they did, they spent with one another. The city had been where Taylor and Alex both once lived, so they went to all of their old spots. Either way, I got the feeling George didn’t want to hang around with them for hours and hours, so we said our goodbyes. The show was mighty lovely though.

*

Rome is beautiful in June. When I was 14, my family spent a month in Italy and San Marino, the latter for its casino. Our first week was spent in Rome, where I dreamed of falling in love with an Italian boy and moving to Italy. I didn’t find any Italian boys and a move to Italy doesn’t seem likely, but I did fall in love with Rome.

Villa Borghese is where I first felt struck and connected to nature. I sat on a fountain and wished I was able to draw something beautiful enough to capture the sight of the floral and fauna. I didn’t own a camera and my drawing skills were as bad then as they are now, but the sight has been committed to memory.

George and I revisited it on our first day in Rome. I took pictures this time and while it was still as beautiful as I remembered, I don’t believe the photos captured what my mind has. It was something only the divinity of the seeing eye can behold.

We did all the other touristy things too. George had never been to Rome because his family spent holidays going to places like Disney World. I guess I’m not one to talk. My family spent holidays going to booze-filled casinos but we did fit in a historical sight every once and a while. Plus, I got a nice tan. George said he always got sunburnt at Disney.

We were in Rome for a wedding. It was Matt and Breana’s, and while destination weddings are a lot of work to attend, they are the most beautiful to witness. I’m quite jealous of theirs because the venue was a near-beauty to that of Villa Borghese. But Matt and Breana did always have a keen eye in their photography, so wedding planning, especially with a nice amount of funds, isn’t hard to imagine.

I wore a nice pink dress and it was one of the few times I have been immensely thankful to be a woman because I didn’t have to sweat in a suit. George complained of the heat the whole wedding ceremony. I reminded him I told him to dress light and to shave before we travelled, but he did neither, which is fine by me because I was proven right in the end, as always.

I met their baby, Amelia, for the first time. She had this cute little dress on and these booties and I wish I could wear her outfit and get fussy in the middle of the ceremony too, but alas, that’s inappropriate for a 30-year-old. I thought age was just a number.

The reception was a nice big hall where my heels clicked on the tiled floor. Each table had flower arrangements as centerpieces that I would’ve stolen from if I knew the flowers wouldn’t die on the way home. The food was divine and others at our table were nice but kept to themselves, leaving me to mainly talk with George through dinner.

After dinner, I went to have a smoke and George accompanied me out into the gardens. I felt sorry for polluting the smell of the air but craving, digestion, and all the rest. He stood with his hands in his pockets as I flicked away. “It’s a lovely wedding,” he said.

I smiled. “Without a doubt. Thanks for coming with me.”

He threw his hands up like it was no big deal. “Who could pass up a trip to Rome?” He bought his own plane ticket, something I felt tried to insist against, but he said we’d make a vacation out of it. He’d never met Matt or Breana, but I had told him stories of my college days with Matt and how sweet, gorgeous, and funny Breana was. 

A smattering of people occupied the pavilion, and the sun was still out, though setting, when Alex and Taylor popped out with fancy glasses in one hand and holding each other’s hand with their other hand. They chatted with a few others before approaching us. Alex knew far more people here than I did and the way he moved through the crowd would give off the impression that he was the host. That he was the groom with his bride.

He stopped in his tracks and tilted his head back when he saw us as if we were in a Western and I was the villain and he was Clint Eastwood. He cocked a smile slowly, almost deviously. “What are you doing here? Popping out for a smoke?”

I laughed, though I didn’t know what I found funny. It was a vague impersonation of some television character I had no idea about; I knew that much. Alex has a tendency to pick the obscure. I felt he was referencing an inside joke I had been shut out of. Maybe because Taylor laughed vocally.

���Digestion,” I replied. George breathed a laugh. Alex and Taylor hugged us both. 

Taylor and I shared a look when George and Alex “bro hugged.” It was the epitome of girls sharing a secret language. We were passing a note to one another that women had done for centuries. Men are childish fools, and we girls, though on different sides of the exchange, are forever bonded by standing in the same position. I think Taylor and I would’ve been good friends had I met her before she met Alex. Or maybe it was our fate to stand on different sides of the exchange, sending secret messages with our eyes. A different language than the male one of bro hugs and dabbing each other up.

“You both look great,” George said. “Taylor, your…” he gestured to the top of his head. Taylor had cut her hair short. It was a little pixie cut, like I imagine a fairy’s hair might be. A Tinker Bell for the modern age. 

George had a typical male response, as if maybe her hair isn’t something he, as a man, should address. He sounded like my father after Harper had gotten a nose ring (her one act of rebellion). He asked her if she had something stuck in her nose, a joke she never laughed at no matter how many times it was told.

I stepped in, the woman explaining her man’s faux paus. “I like it a lot. I’ve always wanted to shave my head.”

“You should totally do it,” Taylor encouraged. “It’s quite freeing and so much more manageable.” 

“I didn’t know you wanted to shave your head,” George said. He had only known me with long hair, the kind that fell delicately on my chest in loose curls.

Alex knew. “Yeah, she wanted to be like Sinéad O’Connor.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know if I’ll ever do it. I think I’d miss my long hair too much. Maybe I’ll dye it blue or something. It’s pretty dull.”

“Ugh, are you kidding?” Taylor gushed, “I’d kill for your hair.” I didn’t find it to be all that special compared to hers. I’m a brunette with eyes that have been trained to admire bright blonde hair, Taylor’s natural gift. I’ll be envious of blondes until the day I die, but I’d look ugly with blonde hair. I’m sure of this due to my mother’s phase of blonde hair when I was 12. She looked like Kate Gosselin. 

An awkward silence fell over the group. I puffed away at my cigarette and waited for someone else to speak. I felt eyes on me but stared at the ground at the way my pink heels looked on the cobblestone ground. I decided to blurt out, “I still haven’t finished War & Peace.”

 I was greeted with stares. Taylor, obviously, had no idea, George had no idea why I brought it up, and, slowly, Alex cracked a smile before he laughed. “Have you even finished the first page?” He quipped. 

I bolded my eyes at him. “Yes. I didn’t bring it on the plane ‘cause I feared it would set me over the weight limit.”

His face was warm. I imagine somewhere back in his lineage, you would find the Sun. He was one-half star and it came out best in the first few days of summer when the sky shined in just the right way upon his face. “Are you guys heading back to New York after this?”

“No,” I sighed. “We’re paying a visit to my family in Bath. Stacey is coming in for the weekend and my parents have agreed to tolerate one another for one meal together. Oh,” I realized, “they’re getting divorced. I forgot to tell you.”

His face was split because the news was shocking…but was it really that shocking? It was the inevitable that neither of my parents had the guts to say it out loud. “Wow,” he voiced. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Kind of wish they did it earlier. Better late than never, I suppose.” We hadn’t included George and Taylor in the conversation for several minutes now. I turned to Taylor. “Back on the road after this?”

“We were in Florence before this,” she said. “I miss it already and then there’s Glastonbury in about a week.”

I nodded and I was pretty sure George wasn’t listening by this point. “Glastonbury is fun.” I almost brought up memories of when I was there in 2007, but it was too personal and too long ago to utter. I finished my cigarette and it was enough conversing for the rest of the night.

*

“You guys heading out?” Alex asked. He was alone and so was I. The hallway was mostly empty with the exception of a few people at the other end. He was headed to the bathroom and I was leaving it. There were many jokes I could’ve made about being in this position again but all were flirtations. Things that would get us naked.

“I think so. We’re both pretty tired and our flight is tomorrow.”

He nodded. His eyes were fixed on the floor. He felt so far away. A rift set in the middle. He took a step toward me and looked up. “Well, good luck with your parents. Tell Stacey a hello from me.”

I agreed to but never did. I think Stacey would have made fun of me relentlessly for any mention of Alex. She was a grown-up but will forever be an immature little sister. “Good luck on tour.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. We moved closer and hugged in jolted, jagged-end movements.

I had walked several paces before he called out, “Janie.” I turned and he stood right outside the men’s bathroom—a hesitation in leaving. “Take it for a ride. For me.”

*

It’s a miracle the beetle wasn’t broken down dead. I think my mother drove it to the grocery store sometimes but it mostly sat idle in the garage. My father barely knew of the presence of the car, and if he did, I’m sure he would have gotten rid of it. He didn’t care for things taking up space.

The inside of the car was barely changed from the 2000s. CDs were still filed in the center console, all of them belonging to my teenage tastes. While I drove around Bath, George looked through the collection. “Why don’t you just toss these? You could probably get a few dollars for them.”

“I like having CDs.”

“But these have been collecting dust in here. Who are Sugababes?” 

I chuckled but didn’t tell him all the memories that would explain why. “It’s the same as you having all those picture books in your childhood bedroom.”

“But I’m gonna give those to my kids.”

“Well, I’ll give these to my kids.”

He put the CDs back and closed the console, leaning back in his seat. “CDs are obsolete now.”

“People said it about vinyl and now it’s back and when CDs come back, I could probably be a millionaire.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think you’ll be a millionaire with your cracked Britney Spears CD.”

“You never know. I bought it on the day it was released. It could be a special edition.”

He shook his head, guying me. He began to search the glove compartment, filled with old napkins and the old car manual. “What’s this?” 

It was a paper that looked like it had been folded up a hundred times. It was wrinkled and looked like it was a blow of the wind away from being torn in half. The ink on it had endured water damage. The entirety of the paper was covered with pen markings, making it impossible to discern what it was without taking the paper close to your eye.

I pulled over to have a look at it. I laughed at the first notes I spotted.

J                   A 275             195

“It’s gin rummy scores,” I told him, though there was much more to it. “Alex and I used to play all the time. This must be from the winter of 2005 or something. An ancient artifact.”

The paper was covered in words that I had never seen before. They were explicit and things I couldn’t utter aloud to George. I found two that were suitable for the situation and read them to him. “‘Sometimes, though, angels smoke-in their sleeves. But when the archangel goes by, they throw their cigarettes away: This is what falling stars are.’” I was beyond impressed with the words and taken aback by the carelessness. “I wonder why he threw it away in here. I might steal it. Doubt he remembers it.”

“Don’t,” George said.

I looked up at him with a giggle. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to actually plagiarize him. Not that he’d care.”

He chuckled at me. “I’m sure he wouldn’t care. He didn’t write it. It’s Nabokov.”

My mouth formed the letter ‘o’. “That makes more sense.”

George, as a member of the literati, nodded. “Letters to Véra. Good taste.”

I looked back at the smudged-up page, recalling back to the books of years past. I folded up the page to act uncaring and stuffed it back in the glove compartment. “I’ll have to see if he wants it. I guarantee he doesn’t remember it, but maybe it has some secret code on it.”

We continued our drive. I showed him the sights I knew and we walked around a little. It was nice weather and we sat outside for lunch. We returned home a bit before dinner with my family, which was shockingly boring.

Later that night, when we were ready for bed, I claimed to have forgotten something in the car. I sat in the passenger seat and took the page out.

On one corner of the page, in tiny writing, he penned “Jane” like that was all he needed to state.

I was taken back to the icy feeling of January in Sheffield, parked beside Charlton Brook and thinking that was the whole world. The words on the paper imprinted onto the walls of my heart, etched themselves in the marrow of my bones, and tasted sweet in my mouth as I chewed away at them. “It's cold today, but in a spring way, and I love you.”

“I am a very boring and unpleasant man, drowned in literature... But I love you.”

I wondered if he still had the book and if these parts were underlined, accompanied by words and thoughts that associated him with me. If there was a possibility every time he saw this book he thought of the winter he spent reading it beside me. If he saw Nabokov on the spines on his bookshelf and thought Janie. It was toe-curling madness, but I read on.

“The thought that you exist is so divinely blissful in itself that it is ridiculous to talk about the everyday sadness of separation—a week's, ten days'—what does it matter? Since my whole life belongs to you.” 

“I love you, my sun, my life, I love your eyes-closed—all the little tails of your thoughts, your stretchy vowels, your whole soul from head to heels.” 

“Without you I wouldn’t have moved this way, to speak the language of flowers.” 

“Kisses, my love, deep ones, to the point of fainting.” 

And the one that struck me the most that had me lying awake that night: “I will love you tonight, and tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and still many more, so very many more tomorrows.” 

Awfully, befitting for this book and for me.

Then came a line that I knew was his creation (or stolen from an old joke book with a title like Witty Remarks for Intellectual Conversations): “Why did Shakespeare only write in pen? Pencils confused him: 2B or not 2B?”

I felt like crying, but instead, I was overcome by laughter and the overwhelming memory of that distant time. I still felt it, still sore in my muscles. I felt him all around. The memories felt so close to me that I couldn’t quite believe how long ago they had occurred. They felt as recent and vivid as yesterday’s venture.

On the other side of the page, there was more writing with lines scratched out so harshly it almost ripped a hole through the page. It was nearly all unreadable, besides a handful of words that were written out, “My mouth hasn’t shut up about you since you kissed it. The idea that you may kiss it again is stuck in my brain, which hasn’t stopped thinking about you since well before any kiss.” The rest was more nonsense for me to pine over. Silently.

*

I only seem to like the beginnings of things. The thought of that has terrified me to an unbelievable degree for most of my life. The start of the school year would seem so sweet, but then around October, I felt like dropping out. Every idea felt like a form of genius at the first line, but by the second page, I was a failure, a fraud, and a phony.

I cherished the getting-to-know-you stage. I like mastering each nook and cranny of a person and then I discovered the petrifying knowledge that they were getting to know me too. When I was younger, this made me change into a mysterious being, or at least try to. 

Most people didn’t care to pull back the layers anymore. The rare person came along, and when they saw the center of me, it felt impossible to let them go because then I would have to expose myself to someone else to fill the void they left, the center they scooped out like a ball of cantaloupe. 

I believe you invent people in your head. Everything is perspective and I will never be viewed under the same light that I view myself. For some occasions, I am thankful for this, but I know I don’t get to control the narrative, no matter how much I write and spew my own view of things out into the world.

One night, on an early September night, I was struggling to write. I had to contribute a piece to Womb. I had neglected it for most of the summer and needed to have a piece of work in the September issuing. Opal comes from the fashion world, where Vogue’s September Issue is the Bible you swear upon.

It was still hot in the city. I cracked open a window and allowed the midnight breeze to try and penetrate the sweat. The cursor blinked at me and I felt like my brain was being cooked. When I had previously had these rots, I called Opal, but she had already heard from me that night, and we were in the middle of a spat where she was right and I was wrong, so I didn’t want to get another whiplashing from her or to ruin her night anymore.

George was at a friend’s bachelor party at a billiards club, which I thought was old-fashioned guy stuff. I thought about writing about that, but it was a stupid idea. I barely know anything about pool.

I won’t delay further like I was trying to delay the inevitable that evening. I called Alex.

The tour had finished about a week before and I hadn’t seen him since the wedding. I wouldn’t say I was avoiding him (though I did notably choose to go out of town the weekend they played Terminal 5), but I didn’t confront the matter either. We texted him about the Olympics and I called him when Gene Wilder died and we quoted Young Frankenstein insistently to one another.

That evening, he didn’t pick up when I initially called him. I considered the night awash for writing and decided to go to bed, but then he called me back before I could brush my teeth. “Who died?” He greeted me.

I slumped back in my desk chair. “No one. Do I have to kill someone to talk to you?” 

“No, it just worries me like Pavlov’s dog or something. You’re the bell that beckons death.”

I snorted. “Well, don’t go on associating me with the Grim Reaper.”

He could hear his smile in the quiet hum of his voice. “What’s up?”

All roads lead back to Rome and I’m stuck on the wishful thinking path. It’s filled with the autopsies of conversations from years ago. It took me too long to muster a reply and when I did I sheepishly said it like I had been caught doing something I shouldn’t, which probably was true. “I can’t think of anything to write and I’m a step away from throwing myself out the window.”

“Don’t do that,” he chuckled. “You’ll probably only break your legs.”

“I think my brain is fried and I wouldn’t care so much, except I’m letting Opal down by not writing anything. It wouldn’t be the first time but I’m trying not to be such an arsehole friend anymore.”

He sighed and whatever weight he was taking off by doing it was shoved onto me. I felt burdensome and the phone felt too heavy in my hand. “I wouldn’t be much help,” he said. “I’ve got nothing to write about either.”

I groaned. “Lame.”

“Call it empathic.”

I scoffed. “Men aren’t supposed to know about that.”

“You’re very difficult; you know that,” he joked. “You could always read War & Peace. Find some inspiration there.” 

I looked at the tome gathering dust on the floor beside my bed. “The only thing it’ll provide me is strained muscles.” My eyes trailed up to my bedside table and I thought on the other book hidden away, the one I hadn’t told anyone about. “I’m reading Letters to Véra now. You read that years ago, right?”

“Yeah. It’s good.”

“When we were in Bath, George found a sheet you wrote all these quotes from the book on. It’s been sitting in the glove compartment for a decade.” The confession felt like sacrilege. I had brought another man into holy ground.

It’s hard to predict Alex’s responses to these discoveries. I was timid and resisted revealing it to him for months. I figured he’d escape the notion of it too, instead, he breathed out, “Jesus. I forgot about that. There’s probably all kinds of shite like that tucked away somewhere. Whoever lives in your old bedroom now is finding scraps all over the place.” The knowledge that there was other scripture like this just lying around somewhere made me even hotter. Like he had just scattered his love around like Hansel and Gretel through the years, waiting for me to find my way back.

“Well, I have this one, if you want it,” I offered.

“You keep it,” he told me. I wanted to see his face. It was hard for me to read the situation. “It was supposed to be for you anyway.”

It made my head spin. I was almost certain I had to have taken some drug before this conversation. I felt dizzy and faint. “It had gin rummy scores on it too.”

His laugh sliced through the silence. “I’m sure you kicked my ass.”

I wish he could see my smug smile. “Up by nearly 100.”

“You should write about that,” he suggested.

“Gin rummy?”

“All those little things. I find that writing about Sheffield can be a good palate cleanser. Returning to the days of youth.” He hesitated, still trying to work out the thoughts that ping-ponged in his mind. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“I know what you mean,” I reassured him. “I know.”

*

I wrote a piece and stuffed it away in a drawer. It was about college, Alex, and smoking. It’s the first section of this book.

*

The following morning, after sleeping on my sullied writing, I decided to reach back further in the days of Wakefield. It was about a trip to the shopping centre I took with my mother when I was 11. We were looking for a dress for my year 6 leavers ceremony and she made me try on all these different dresses until I found one I fell in love with, but she didn’t like it so she ended up picking this scratchy old dress. It might be small, but I still think about that dress. I thought about it long enough that I couldn’t stop writing, and thus, I began my next book.

*

Christmas was coming. The first snow fell halfway through December, but it didn’t stick, just leaving an ice fog. George had spent the night at my place. We stayed huddled in bed and decided it was best for him to stay simply because it was too cold.

He cooked bacon while I showered. I had a towel wrapped in my hair when he handed me my coffee and a plate of cooked pig belly with some berries on the side. We ate at my tiny kitchen table and talked about the weather. Then he said, “It would probably just be easier to live together at this point.”

“Yeah,” I thoughtlessly said while chewing away.

“And my place has more room and is right above the store. It’s in Manhattan too, which seems more your scene than Brooklyn.”

“Yeah. I think so.” It was going over my head. The bacon was really good.

“We could do it in the New Year.”

I squinted. “Do what?” He stared at me. “Move in together?”

“Yeah.” He smiled.

“Oh.” I hate myself. “But I like my place.”

“It’s nice, but you’re always complaining how you wish you had more space and—”

“How would I have more space living with you?”

“I at least have a wall between my bed and kitchen.”

“But I would be sharing all that with you now.” It was a pointed comment. It was obvious my concern wasn’t over having a new roommate but who that roommate would be.

He began looking crossed. “What’s wrong with sharing?”

“I like having my own space,” I reasoned with a half-truth.

“Well, we could make space for you at my place.”

“Your place.”

“Our place,” he corrected.

“What’s wrong with my place?”

He laughed at me. “Nothing’s wrong with your place. But, come on, let’s pull the trigger.”

I rolled my eyes like a bitch. “How affectionate.”

“Jane.” He was scolding me.

“Let me think about it.”

He nodded, and we went back to eating, but this time in silence. He finished his coffee and decided for us. “You’re not gonna move in with me, are you?”

“I don’t know.”

He sighed. “Don’t kid me, Jane. At least give me that.”

“I just like having something of my own.”

“Okay.” He looked around. I feared he was X-raying the apartment and seeing all the things I was hiding. Then he stared at me so strongly I thought he’d burn a hole through me. “We’re never gonna go to the next step with me.”

“I’ll allowed to think about it.”

“No, I mean like we’re not going to live together or get married. All those dreams you told me about with the garden and your husband cooking you dinner, that’s not me, is it?”

I didn’t know what to say. “It could be.”

He shook his head. “It’s not.” He was soft and he broke my heart because I knew I was breaking his. “It’s okay.”

We finished breakfast and we talked about our individual plans for Christmas. When our plates were empty, he stood up and kissed my cheek. “I hope you come do an event for your new book.”

I nodded, and then he left. I cleared the table and did the dishes.

*

a/n: i'll try and figure out how to include pickles in the next part. it might be a bit before the next part because a) it'll be longer, b) i want to try and write something else in the time being to clear out my long list of in progress works, and c) there's not that many years left of this and we must cherish every second. thanks :)

[jakemyboy]

Look at this boy. He is sleeping hard! Eyes scrunched closed tight he's like I don't care how loud the TV is....I AM SLEEPING!!!!

[yeonjune]

Yeonjun about the strain he felt while preparing for his debut solo project ✙ "GGUM" MAKING FILM

[cementcornfield]

Is it fair to say that Tee is a need?

Tee is a need, yes.

If the front office isn't able to make that work, would you be disappointed in that?

I'd be very disappointed in that, yeah.

[oreo-creampies]

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mean/angry nerd!switch!choso, hate fucking/academic rivals, Daddy/brat, biting, degradation/mocking, two pussy slaps, a hint of oral/fingering for some prep, pain kink, begging, just the tip, choking, light fem dom!reader, biting, hair pulling/dragging, mirror sex, full nelson, squirting

Oreo: @arminsumi @vampress7 lets all be delulu over nerd!choso, normal choso could and would never be so mean. I stand by that but this is nerd!choso Au whose done with your shit even if you are right! 🤤

“You’re such an annoying brat correcting me in class.” Choso grabs your arms pinning them above your head. Stuffing his thigh between your legs. Grinding your hips, your soft clit perfectly rubbing on his thick thigh.

Fighting the urge to groan. “If you weren't wrong, I wouldn't have to-!” Choso shuts you up with a rough kiss, biting your bottom lip. Slipping his tongue past when you cry.

Squeezing your neck, pulling away, smirking down at you. “Say something now, do anything other than grind your clit on my thigh like a pretty dirty whore.” Glaring up at him, unable to stop yourself. It feels to go to rock your clothed cunt on his clothed thigh.

Sneering, “If only the class knew what a pathetic whore you are. Glaring up at me like you won't beg for my cock.” It’s going straight to your needy cunt the way Choso is looking down at you with such angry hunger.

Moving his thigh from between yours. Roughly unbutton your pants, yanking them down your thighs with your underwear Curling two thick fingers into your cunt. “Already stupidly wet for me, nnn can't believe such a pretty cunt belongs to such a brat.” Letting go of your neck, crouching down ripping your pants down the rest of the way.

“Aw Choso Kamo is mad 'cause I’m right! Doesn't matter how much of a stupid cock drunk slut your fat cock makes me it won't change that!” Slapping your clit and cunt repeatedly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, muffling your cries from the sweet sting.

Biting your stomach, gliding two thick fingers. You grab a fistful of his dark hair tugging till he whines. Your sloppy wet cunt quivers around Choso's thick fingers from the beautiful sound. “Annoying brat.” Propping your thigh on his broad shoulder, shoving his face towards your clit.

“Shut up and suck my clit.” Biting your thigh, pumping his thick fingers faster. Massaging your sweet spot, licking your soft clit. Groaning into your cunt, grabbing your hip digging in his nails.

Squirming grinding your hips, swiping your clit on his pierced tongue. Curling from your toes from the sweet pressure of his hard bar. “Fuck you for being so damn beautiful with my cunt on your face.” Sloppily sucking on your soft clit, groaning getting off in the soft squelching of his finger sinking into your sloppy wet cunt.

Gliding his fingers out, slipping your thigh off his shoulder standing up. Unbuttoning his dark pants, pushing them down, kicking them to the side. “No underwear? Figures why everyone could see the fat outline of your cock when you were in front of the class.”

Picking up his beautiful cock. Biting your lip, stroking your clit, you love the way he’s so fat and heavy he hangs. He smirks looking down at you, trapping your head between his large hands.

Grabbing his cock touching stroking your clit. “I knew you were lookin’ n you lied sayin’ you weren't.” He groans when you slide your side lips along his cock, smearing slick into his cock head. Helping you stroke your clit better.

“Fuck you, you didn't deserve the satisfaction after being wrong. You should have studied better, I'm disappointed in you can I even think of you as a rival after that.” Biting Choso’s tattoo of black flowers and dark green leaves and thorny vines.

The large garden covers most of his body. Hiding scars you’ve memorized the placement of. You hate him so much, yet you know his body better than your own.

Tracing over the one above his heart. Kissing the bite mark. “Please you know you’re going to be thinking about seeing me in class tomorrow. Let’s see how good your essay is, if I think it’s less than 96 you’re not cumming.” Grabbing your hair pulling your head back.

Looking up at him, siding your hand down from his thick hard pecs to his sculpted abs. “Fuck whatever stupid grading system you have it's rigged. You just want to hear me beg.” Stepping back, taking away his thick, warm cock on your soft clit.

Choso leads you from his living room into the hallway with a firm grasp on your hair. “Damn right, I want to hear you beg for this cock. Watch yourself, see what a dumb slut I fuck ya into.” Letting go, shoving you into his bathroom, grabbing your arm, and twisting you to face the mirror. Bending you over, lifting your ass up in the air.

Grabbing the counter. Admiring Choso in the mirror. His broad chest, thick arms, and slim waist. “I want to be fucked dumb by your fat cock.” Lining his thick cock up gliding in just his fat cock head.

Suspended in the air with only his tip in you, you look so desperate begging. "Please fuck me with your fat cock, I don't want to think of anything else. Wanna be your pretty dumb cock sleeve." Gliding his cock out, slapping himself on your lips.

Clenching with every wet smack, lining himself back up gliding only his fat tip into you. His fat head alone stretching your cunt feels too damn good. "Please fuck my bratty attitude outta me, make me your mindless cum stuffed slut. NNn." Roughly pulling you back to meet his harsh thrust, stuffing you full of his cock.

Loudly moaning, "Fuck me!" Choso grabs your hair, yanking you upright. Wrapping an arm around his neck. Choso slips his arms underneath your legs, folding you in half. Bouncing you in time with his hard, quick thrusts.

Stroking your sweet spot before stirring your guts up. "That's what I thought it's ok ya can moan you are my stupid pretty slut." Slipping his arm across your body, trapping both your legs over his thick forearm.

You're tightly pinned, knees to your chest watching your cunt get stuffed. Getting off on how Choso needs one arm to support you. Stroking your clit whining from the sweet toe-curling pleasure, clenching his fat cock. "Nnn daddy please!"

"Daddy? Already is it that good? Like seeing how your cunt is making a perfect circle from how fat my cock is." Steadily stroking your soft clit. Over the months of ending up in his apartment he's perfected playing with your clit.

You couldn't do it better yourself anymore. Couldn't cum this hard that your eyes are rolling back, body trembling, jaw-dropping. Your thick slick dripping down Choso's balls, some of your squirt splashing onto his counter.

Forgetting everything but getting fucked stupid on Choso's fat, veiny cock. “Ya cummin' so much for me, thought ya hated me but look at you. Giving me those love sick eyes." You don't have the mind to protest.

Choso smirks, "I might be second in class but I'm still your Daddy. No one else can fuck ya like I can look at ya already a stupid drooling brat.”

oreo’s m.list

[muntitled]

Girl On TV

Pairings: Namgyu x Fem!Reader

Summary: After being humiliated by his not-so-innocent friends for being far too innocent, you decide not to be such a prude for once in your life

Warnings: Language, Substance Abuse, Toxic Relationship, Male Manipulation, Virgin!Reader, Coercion, Peer Pressure, Drug Use, Virginity shaming, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Sadomasocism, Grinding, Porn, Corruption Kink, Pillow Humping, Mutual Masterbation

A/n: I love being a problematic Namgyu stan

You hadn't known it would come down to this.

Had you been told before you would be dragged to sit on his lap under the dim lights of Club Pentagon and made to see this... you might not even have some at all.

Perhaps if he had invited you under the guise of distracting you from academics for one Friday night, you might've been more open.

Less of a prude.

But you had never seen such a clean line of powder stretched across the table in your life. In fact your body burns with not only embarrassment at being in the proximity of such hardcore drugs, but your bones were also set alight in fear.

The arms that have been cradling your waist pulls you in tighter, making you feel smaller than you actually were on his lap. This is what you loved about him. He liked you. Your curves. Your face. Your everything.

You could stick this out, couldn't you?

You should.

"Woah," He calmly whispers into your ear. All at once, every morsel of discomfort is driven out by your overwhelming need to please him.

The club is dark.

The music is good.

Namgyu's pulled you onto his lap in front of an embarrassingly large group of strangers. Everything is perfect.

"What's wrong?" He's so attentiative, bending his head down to whispers conspiratorially into your hair. His voice drowns out the oppressive rap song being performed on the center stage on the ground floor of the club and for all of five minutes its just you and him and the cocaine. Buy mainly, just him.

"You're strung up." He whispers.

You're quiet for a few tense minutes, wondering if you should voice your concerns and risk having him disappointed in you for not having fun like he intended.

"I don't know if I'm too comfortable."

"Here?" You hear him whisper, slightly poking his head forward to nudge his nose into the back of your neck, "With me?" He's using that petulant almost needy voice of his when he's inebriated and it tugs at something deeply troubled inside you.

"Not with you," you reassure him, "With that-" you nudge your head forward slightly, leading his half-lidded eyes to the long stripe of cocaine marring the table. "And your friends," you reluctantly murmur, letting yourself sink against him as if he had the power to scare these drunken people away. As if he wasn't forcing you here, amongst them at all.

"You know Thanos is a big name in the club scene-" He begins and you cut him off by sighing very loudly as you resch forward to grab your glass of water off the small, reflective table.

Thoroughly annoyed because he's sung this song before.

"I know, Namgyu but-"

His fingers weave into themselves around your waist, securing you against him like a baby, "Just be cool for like 40 minutes- maybe and hour-"

Your blood pressure skyrocketed as you turned back to shoot him, not only a look of immense incredulousness but betrayal.

"Namgyu, you said you wanted to take me out- yeah? Not your friends-”

"-Then we can get out of here, and I'll give you all the kisses you want."

You sigh heavily once more. “You didn't say anything about-"

He loosens his grip from your waist before standing up, forcing you to stand up in the process.

"He's coming," he whispers, keeping his eye off into the distance. His attention is much not on you and your present moral struggles.

"This is work, baby, you know this-"

"Namgyu- I have a test on-"

He pinches your side as a new guest enters the section. "Shh." Namgyu whispers at the same time the guest's boisterous hollers cause you to quite literally flinch.

"Yo, Namsu!" He's dripping in gold chains and purple hair. "Who is this fine Senorita you've brought with you?" He asks despite having two women under his arm. "You trying to outdo me bro?" Thanos takes a seat directly beside you and Your boyfriend.

"This is my girl-" He says at the same time Namgyu pulls you back onto his lap.

"It's Nam-Gyu-" you say through gritted teeth. "Not Nam-Su." Your eyes are narrowed at the man who only listens and smiles.

You glare daggers at the man before your boyfriend taps you slightly, reminding you to answer. “I have water- so no thank you." You say before mumbling, "I'm not a snitch either-"

"Is she partaking with us?" He asks your boyfriend, despite looking right at you. “Or is she a snitch?"

The girl under Thanos' arm snickers. "Water?"

You once again, tried to crawl further into Namgyu's lap.

He, thankfully tightened his grip around your waist, never letting you go as he conversed in inebriated chatter with Thanos. The more drugs they consumed the louder they got, until Namgyu started flailing his right arm wildly while he told a story, still having somewhat enough sense to keep a languid grip on your waist.

Somewhere, amongst all the useless chatter, you decided to add in your two cents, snickering quietly to yourself as you mumbled over the rim of your glass, "I've actually never watched porn before-"

"What do you mean you've never watched porn before?" Your eyes widen when you realize you'd spoken louder than you intended to and one of Thanos' girls snicker loudly. The sound carries across the table to his degenerate friends and their girlfriend's and causes a whole new wave of laughter to be birthed from your embarrassment.

You begin to squirm in Namgyu's lap.

Despite the drugs and the loud music, the two of you were having such a nice evening... You never fancied partying much and yet, your boyfriend had to sink his claws into you to get you to agree to one night of partying. The consequences of that decision are playing out in front of you.

"You've been banging a virgin this entire time?" Thanos asks Namgyu the same time and nameless girl says-

"Even I've watched porn."

Despite the anxiety flooding your veins at being the center of unwanted attention, Namgyu's grip around your waist is firm. It keeps you grounded. It tightens around you now, nudging you against him like his nose at the nape of your neck.

"Have I?" Namgyu asks with his eyes as hazy as the city caught in dusk. There isn't alcohol on his breath, only a light dust of snow under his nose.

"Have you what?" You ask, staring down at your trembling hands.

"Been dealing with a virgin this entire time?" He asks, unraveling your very private life to a room full of strangers. He's high. And incredibly loose with his mouth. You have to find it in you to take his inebriation into account but you only feel annoyed.

“Is that why you don't do drugs with me?"

"I don't do drugs with you because I actually value my health-"

"Sick burn," Thanos snorts in his little corner.

Your eyes widen. Your throat tightens.

These aren't your people.

Your people are nestled in the university library, cramming one final time before their semester tests.

Yet here you were, caught under a thick cloud of smoke that had your throat burning, all for a boy.

And admittedly priceless one.

"Don't be an asshole." You turn to glare daggers at him.

"Don't be a prude-" he shoots back. A few locks of hair fall from behind his ear as he watches you with a darkened gaze. "Is that why we haven't had sex yet?" Your heart plummets, "cus you're a virgin?” Namgyu asks. You don't know which side he's on.

"Woah!? A virgin in the flesh-" Thanos hollers, staring at you like a specimen in a petri dish. He nudges the girl under his arm, "I'd cheat on you if you ever tried that shit with me.”

"I know!" The girl responds before turning to look at you with dazed, dilated pupils. "Aren't you scared he's gonna do something if you wait too long?"

These aren't your people.

"If Namgyu wants to sleep with someone then by all means-"

You wrestle out of his iron grip, thanking God for the water that's keeping you sober and steady on your feet.

"Ooh, spicy, spicy-" Thanos mumbles

"Can I go please?" Namgyu keeps his hand in yours, looking up at you with a deadly glare.

"Nah, you leave when I leave, I'm still working-"

You pull your hand out of his.

"I have a test on Tuesday. Goodnight.

Its not like you thought he would follow you. Namgyu was especially selfish, as was the case for most addicts. Right now, you imagine him snapping out of his daze, leaning back over that table, tucking his hair behind his ears as he snorted up whatever Thanos wanted him to.

You didn't think you were being followed and so you feel thoroughly and completely alone once you get to your apartment.

Despite being completely alone this evening, you still try to hide what you're watching on your phone. Your headsets are pulled over your ears, your head reclined against the arm of the couch while your blankie was pulled over your supine frame. You hadn't exactly planned on watching porn this evening but the group's bullying had left you curious.

The girl projected on your phone screen looks up at the actor about to rail her insides. "You've been a bad girl,"

You roll your eyes into the back of your skull. This was precisely why you refrained from mainstream porn. Some of the best stuff was either in your audio files or in your reading list. Visual porn never did much for you- until you scrolled a little too far down to a new, more promising video.

The actress has a crimson handprint on her ass, as her dom forces her to ride her pillow. Despite the difference in skin tone and the overall mediocre acting, you were having a considerable amount of fun imagining yourself in her place. You thought about an invisible collar clamped around your throat with a big, strong, domineering man loomed above you, forcing you to push your clit right up against-

The more you slipped into a pleasure filled haze. You watch with bated breath.

"Sh-it-" you nearly fall off the couch. Your phone plops out of your slippery hands, right onto your face and your headphones slide off. Standing above you, is Namgyu, trying to fight a grin off his face as he stares down at you. You look up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"Wh-when did you get back home?" the words barely leave your mouth before Namgyu's grabbing your phone.

"Naughty, naughty girl," He doesn't seem surprised to see the contents on your screen. In fact, the only giveaway that he saw anything at all is the slight flicker his eyes make towards you, before he stares back down at the phone.

"H-How was 'work'?" You're desperately trying to steer your attention away from the blatant porn on your phone screen, away from the smirk on his face as he bites his lips, away from his exposed tattoos in his short sleeve shirt.

"Work was work." He replied, still watching the porn, "I'm high as shit." He says casually as he disappears into the bedroom, your phone still in his hand.

"Hard too." He says when he returns. Your phone clutched in one hand and the large teddy bear he bought you for your 21st clutched in the other hand. You furrow your brows up at him, confused when he takes a seat on the couch. Your feet against his thigh as he clicks a few buttons on your phone before seating the giant teddy bear beside him.

He grabs the remote before pressing a few buttons.

You freeze when you hear the moans first.

Your gaze catches the TV.

There, the girl from your screen rides her pillow and you're forced to watch.

You're almost too embarrassed to feel turned on. Ungluing your eyes from the TV, you instead watch your hands in your lap.

He places a hand under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He's sitting comfortably on his side, remarkably unfazed by the girl's pornographic moans.

"Fuck the bear." Is all he says, as he leans against his arm and he strokes your chin. Petting you.

"Wha-"

"You gonna make me ask again?"

It's something in his tone and his hazy, half-lidded gaze that kickstarts your senses as you languidly stand on your feet. You're trembling and he reaches out to interlock your hands in his. Namgyu loved how eager yet innocent you are for him. He can see in the clumsiness of your movements that you were already slipping into subspace. With trembling fingers, you reach up to the thin straps of your pyjama dress and he nods his head.

"Should I take off my panties too?" Your voice is small.

Namgyu tilts his head. "You even have to ask?"

Behind you, the girl's breathing doubles and her moans increase.

"Better hurry or she's gonna cum." He taunts, watching like a stone statue as you mount the bear seated beside him. Namgyu's breathing catches as you straddle the bear, your movements tense and uncertain.

"Fuck the bear-" you lower your cunt onto the fur material and you moan, having not realized how wet you'd actually been this entire evening.

"That's it- fuck." He spreads his legs, leaning back more as he lets his hand brush over the tent in his jeans.

You don't moan because it feels good. It doesn't. Not immediately at least. You moan because Namgyu is watching. Reclined against the couch as his eyes stay on you.

"Ride the plushie like the girl in the video." He says. Your throat dries when he continues to languidly stroke his hand over the bulge in his sweatpants.

"Fuck- Gyu," he knew when the nickname fell from your lips that you were done for.

You both were.

Your eyes steadily roll to the back of your head as you grind your pussy against the bear, already creating a wet spot.

Behind you, you heard the girl moan and whine and somehow that spurrs you on.

"So fucking needy-” you gasp when you feel a hand cupping your exposed breasts. Namgyu reaches over to tweak your nipples just as his other hand finally slips inside his pants.

"Crane your fucking neck back. Try to watch the slut make herself cum." When you do, your hips stutter hard and your clit twitches.

"You watch her." Namgyu commands, stroking his exposed cock, "I'd rather watch you."

As you watch, his mouth runs. Namgyu swore a lot but it doubled when he caught himself in the throes of arousal.

“You look just like that bitch, you know that?”

Your mouth snaps open as you watch her. Your expression is pained.

“You want everyone to think you're such a quiet little girl but your just a slut, yeah?” He speaks lpuder, “Just my fucking slut- fuck.” It nearly causes you to cum everywhere. Her hand is pushing down on the face of the poor, poor pillow as she rides it. You can tell she's close.

Unable to look any longer, you turn back. Your hazy eyes meets Namgyu's dilated ones. He's stroking his cock, head thrown back against the back of the couch, mouth slightly ajar. His cock is throbbing in his hand and he squeezes, showing you the precum sliding down the length.

"Gyu, please-" you grinded harder against the plushy and Namgyu picked up the pace.

"You imagining me fucking you, huh?" He throws his head back, closing, his eyes momentarily close as his cock twitches in his hand.

"Fuck- I-" your clit was rubbing against the plushie just right. Namgyu's fingers mercilessly squeezing your nipples have you seeing stars. This friction was enough.

Fuck.

Air could be enough to let you come in this moment. All you had to do was buck your hips a little more- but the pain blooming across your breasts were distracting you from cumming.

"Please-" your whole body was trembling- "It fucking hurts!"

His mouth falls open at that, before leaning his head against the couch. He squeezes the base of his cock and you watch the precum slide down its length.

"Fuck, say that again-" he brings his head back before stroking his cock faster. "Fuck the plushie, baby," His hips move up from the couch to meet his hand. "Tell me it hurts again-"

He sits up to tweak your nipples again and you whine. "H-Hurts so bad-"

"Yeah, Princess, just like that," he groans, throwing his head back, "Such a stupid fucking slut-" he admits, voice groggy.

Somehow that final degradation has your hips twitching as your clit spasms and you slip into the stars.

The second you cum, Namgyu does too. Cursing and mumrering a quiet and slightly broken, "Fuck- such s-slut-" before reaching over to grab a fistfull of your braids. Your hips are still writhing, your eyes as blank as a corpse as he pulls you forward to spray his cum all over your face.

He squeezes his cock, unable to keep his pretty eyes shut as he watches you writhe and moan. "Fuck me-" he sighs.

"Don't watch this shit again." He says, huffing and puffing. "It's bad for you."

In a second, he presses a button on the remote and the TV screen is black.

"If you need dick, come to me."

"You were making f-fun of me," you grumble under your breath, and you sigh heavily.

Your eyes are shut but you can feel him playing with his cum on your face.

"I wasn't making fun of you. I was just surprised. You're surprising." There's a thick layer of emotion in his voice. It has your body wracking with aftershocks. "You're not like anything I've ever experienced."

[gurugirl]

Sex Tutor

Summary: Harry's got a reputation on campus and you're curious to know if he can help you.

A/N: Requested! Thank y'all for being patient with me! Hope you enjoy! This will be 2 parts!!

Word Count: 10k

Warning: smut (oral sex), fluff, praise kink

. . .

“Yeah… that was good. I liked it.”

That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get. You thought Gunther would be a lot more enthusiastic after coming in your mouth and you swallowing him down. You gave it your best work. You even choked a couple of times and you did hear him moan once or twice. But that didn’t feel like enough

You wanted to ask him exactly what went wrong. Tips on what he liked and didn’t. What you could do better next time… But instead, he just smiled and kissed your cheek, avoiding your mouth because obviously kissing the lips that had just sucked his cock would be gross.

So you left his dorm feeling a little disappointed in yourself. Annoyed really. You wished you were more bold and could just ask him what he wanted, what he liked most. You complained to your roommate even. She loved giving advice so you were always venting to her.

“Well, you know there’s like this guy on campus who will walk you through that kind of thing… a sex tutor if you will. Let’s just say that he comes highly recommended. I know someone who hung out with him a few times, and she learned so much about her body and how good sex could feel without coming but he always made her come every time, and no man has ever done that to her before she told me.”

“A tutor for blow jobs?” You scrunched your face and giggled.

“Well, blow jobs and everything else really. I don’t know. He gets around and they say he’s very knowledgeable about the body and sex. I think he’s like getting his masters in sexual health or something?”

You shoved at her shoulder and laughed, “Oh my god I don’t think so. That sounds crazy. He’s probably some weird pervert or something.”

Your roommate turned her cellphone screen to face you, showing you an Instagram page with a photo of a very attractive young man you’d seen on campus a time or two.

“That’s him?” Your eyes widened as you looked from the photo to your roommate.

“Yup. He’s not a weirdo either. I hear he’s super respectful and smart. Plus the bonus is that he looks like this.”

You nodded. That certainly was a bonus. Harry Styles. You knew about him from the student council. He did a lot of volunteering on campus and he was a graduate student so you didn’t know him all that well, being only a sophomore yourself, but it was hard not to at least know the name and the face. He was popular. Clearly far more popular than you even realized.

And you definitely weren’t going to reach out for a “session”. That just felt silly. Though, you couldn’t say you weren’t intrigued by the idea, it just wasn’t for you. Except that when Gunther didn’t text or call you back for three full days, the whole time you wondered if your blow job was that bad. So when he did finally text you back to make plans for the following week, you felt like you were being given another chance to prove how good you could be. And maybe a lesson or two could be useful.

Reaching out to him via DMs on Instagram felt so unserious but you still did it. You cringed as you hit send and read over your message three times.

Hi! I heard you give special “tutoring” sessions and wanted to know if you have some time to meet with me to set something up? Let me know if it’s okay.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this, reaching out to a stranger for, basically, a booty call. But apparently he was used to it and had no qualms about responding to you in less than thirty minutes. As if he was running some kind of business.

Hi! Happy to meet up with you either tonight or Friday night. The initial meeting should only take like 20 minutes, somewhere public so you feel comfortable. I’ll ask you a few questions and then we’ll set up a private one-on-one session together if it makes sense for both of us. No pressure ever. Whenever you’re ready.

Private one-on-one session. You rolled your eyes as you read over Harry’s response.

Tonight is good for me if you can fit me in. Whatever time you want.

You didn’t know what to expect. You imagined he was cocky since he was apparently so good and sought after. Perhaps he would take one look at you and turn around. You were sure he had a say in who he “tutored”. Doubted he took on every single person who reached out to him.

Your roommate said he was respectful but you would place money on the fact that he was probably full of himself, being that he was a self-proclaimed Sex Guru. You were preparing yourself for someone with a larger-than-life personality.

You kept your outfit casual, not wanting to look like you were trying too hard. Jeans and a hoodie. Though you did shower and put on nice panties and made sure you smelled good. Just in case. One never knows when they are due to visit with a sex tutor.

Maud’s was one of your favorite spots on campus. They had the best iced matcha latte and that’s just what you ordered yourself when you arrived. You sat down at a small table and faced toward the door so you could keep an eye out.

You were looking down at your cell phone when you heard the chime of the door. Flitting your eyes up and away from the screen of your phone you scanned the entry and spotted him right away.

He was wearing a black pullover hoodie and jeans. His hair all tousled like he’d just finished a “tutoring” session. You raised your hand to wave at him and catch his attention and he grinned as you stood up but he gestured for you to stay seated, “I’ll be right back. Just gonna order a drink.”

You were already feeling hot and embarrassed. God, what were you doing? The man was sex on legs and that deep, raspy voice he just spoke to you with had your insides twisting and turning all mushy.

When he returned he had an iced tea and he sat across from you. The smile on his face was kind. Open. It set you at ease a bit.

He took a sip through his straw and you noted the rings on his fingers and the nail polish on his nails, “So, Y/n. It’s nice to meet you in person. What are you majoring in?”

Okay. Small talk. You could handle that.

You told him your classes and what you were majoring in and then asked him the same and when he explained he was going for his doctorate in psychology with the intent to become a sex therapist you felt your heart thump wildly. He was gorgeous and going for a doctorate. The man was so beyond out of your league that you wondered why he was even sitting at that table with you entertaining this silly request of yours.

“Wow. That’s… I’m impressed.”

He grinned and you saw a dimple carve into his cheek, “Thank you. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. Still working, though. So let’s talk about what you want. What things are you interested in getting some guidance on?”

Here it was. The moment you’d been dreading. But also what you were most curious about.

“Well, I’m seeing this guy and,” you took a breath. It was embarrassing to say it so casually at a café on campus of all places.

Harry reached toward you and placed his warm palm over the top of yours, “Hey, I know this feels weird. Doing this. I’m not going to pressure you to say it if you find it’s too uncomfortable but just know,” he dipped his head down to meet your gaze with his brows gently raised, “Everything you tell me here will be kept confidential and private. I’m not going to make fun of you or compare you to anyone else. If you change your mind, that’s okay too. I want you to feel like you’re talking to a friend. Okay? It’s up to you how much or how little you say. We move at your pace.”

You let out the breath you were holding and smiled. He was so – nice. He made you feel so at ease.

“Thank you. It’s weird. Yeah… but I think I’m okay. I want to do this. I want to be better at like,” you looked around yourself and lowered your voice as Harry moved his hand from yours and you settled your gaze back on his, “Better at giving blow jobs. And maybe like initiating more?”

He nodded, “Okay. Have you ever given a blow job before?”

You nodded, “Recently. The guy didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it so I didn’t know if I did something wrong.”

He took a sip of his tea and his green irises bored into yours, “I can tell you one thing I know that is true for nearly every single male I know; they love getting head. Even if he wasn’t vocal he probably really enjoyed whatever you did. Does that make you feel better about your skill level?”

You puffed out a laugh and saw the smirk on his face. He was trying to get you to smile, “I don’t know. Probably. I’m sure I’m overthinking it but I just wanted… like I want to be really good. Want to know tricks to get a real response.”

“Did the guy you’re seeing orgasm?”

You nodded again.

Harry’s grin softened, “Then you did as good as you could have. Goal achieved. He orgasmed and you made that happen.”

“But I want to be better. Like… I really enjoyed what I was doing. Made me really… well…” you looked down at your empty mug and sighed, “I felt like I enjoyed it more than he did.”

He nodded and licked his lips and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was kind of checking you out. You weren’t wearing anything revealing but he seemed to keep dropping his gaze to your lips and neck. But you figured that was because he was still getting used to your face and he was sussing you out a bit to see if he wanted anything to do with you beyond this conversation.

But that was true. He was checking you out. He saw your Instagram pictures before he contacted you (always his first step) and thought you were cute and wouldn’t mind seeing you in person. He certainly wasn't disappointed by you when he saw you either. You were cute and a little nervous and when you started talking about how you enjoyed giving that loser a blow job he couldn’t help but shift his eyes down to your mouth and imagine what your lips would look like on his cock. He wondered if you’d be just as eager to suck him off as you seemed like you were for the other guy.

Now, Harry was a polite and nice man. He was as respectful as they came. But he was still a man with a very high sex drive and he couldn’t help it. He did enjoy having sex and he got a lot of ass because he was good at what he did. And he was under no allusion that it also didn’t have anything to do with how attractive he was. Because of course, it did. He was aware of the way women looked at him and all the whispers about him on campus. And most of the time the sessions were just fun sex more than anything else. However, he happily gave guidance when needed.

And this time he was feeling pretty gung-ho to see what you could do. He’d like to get started right away, which normally he’d wait until after the initial meeting before jumping into it but there was something about the way you were looking at him, your eyes hungry and inviting…

You watched Harry shift in his chair and look around the café before he looked back at you, “What are you doing right now? Like after this?”

“Oh… nothing. Was gonna read a little, prep for a test I have on Monday. But…” you shook your head.

“Would you be interested in going somewhere more private? My studio is at the off-campus university apartments. Twenty-minute walk from here.”

Was he…? You scrunched your brows, confused at the sudden invite to his place.

“It’s up to you. I’m not rushing you or anything I just have a free evening and you seem really enthusiastic and I’d like to kind of get a feel for what we’re working with. If you think you’re ready.”

You nodded, “Okay. I mean… yeah. So no roommates?” You laughed nervously as he stood up and it was the first time you let your attention fall to the space at his crotch, to which you quickly bobbed your eyes back up to his face as you stood.

“Nope. Co-ed apartments. No roommate. Super private.” He didn’t miss the way you scraped your eyes over his torso and down to the spot on his jeans where his zipper was.

So that was that then. You’d be getting a lesson sooner than you imagined. And when you walked the twenty minutes through campus and the street that was just adjacent to the cafeteria you could almost hear your heart pounding. He was taller than you expected. He easily kept the conversation alive with small talk. He seemed so confident and easygoing. You tried to let that charisma and charm soak through your veins so that you weren’t as nervous as you felt, but it was impossible. You were about to go into Harry Style’s apartment alone and probably give him a blow job.

Harry waved at a few people on your way up to his floor. He was clearly popular. You wondered if anyone knew what might be happening. Why you were with him and why you were following behind him like you were a pup being trained and he was carrying a treat.

“Here she is,” he opened his door and gestured for you to walk inside. Neat and tidy with stacks of books and lots of plants. Some plants hanging, most potted, and on the floor or on tables. You noted he had no television and that there was a big partition that separated the small living space from what was probably where he had his bed. The kitchen was organized with open shelving and he’d bought a wire rack and it was stacked full of packaged foods, spices, oil, and other things to cook with at the top and at the bottom with pots and pans and a blender with its cord neatly wrapped around the base.

He excused himself to the bathroom while you looked around. There wasn’t anywhere to go really. There were two doors in the whole place. The bathroom door and another one, which you assumed was a closet. The kitchen area was open to the small living space.

When Harry emerged he sat down on the couch, which looked well-worn. You wondered how many people he’d had over and on that very couch. He sat with his legs spread and drew his arms over the back of the couch and just watched as you stepped in closer toward the small coffee table, “I like all the plants,” you commented.

He nodded and you clasped your hands behind your back in wait for what would happen next. You didn’t want to look again at his crotch. But the way he was sitting made it hard. He took up so much space on that couch and with his legs spread open like they were, it was almost as if he wanted you to.

“Gonna sit with me? I’m not gonna do anything if you don’t want.”

You nodded and sat down, keeping your limbs close to your body and separate from him. You didn’t want to invade his space or get in too close. Not yet anyway. Not until he invited you. Or rather, until he told you what to do next.

“Everything I said at Maud’s still stands. If you change your mind that’s fine. I’m not going to be mad.”

You turned to look at him and swallowed. The guy was out of this world. Simply delicious looking. “Okay.” You spoke in barely above a whisper.

Harry leaned forward, putting his elbows over his knees as he kept his eyes on you, “Is this how you usually initiate?”

You raised your brows and shook your head, “What?”

“You said you wanted to be better at initiating. So far, I’m not getting any signals that you’re interested. Could be your first problem. Try relaxing a little, Y/n. Sit back and unhook your fingers. Loosen your shoulders. Not only will you feel more settled, but you’ll make the person with you feel better too. Which could push you to naturally begin conversation or movements that encourage contact.”

“Oh. Okay,” you sat back into his couch and loosed your hands, relaxing your posture, and looked at him, “Like this?”

Harry grinned and let out a small laugh, “Perfect. Now at least it appears you’re not scared of me.”

“I’m not scared,” you quickly shook your head.

“I didn’t think you were. But your body language was giving closed-off signals. Which could appear to some like fear or discomfort.”

It made sense you guessed.

“I see. So, relax and it makes everyone feel better.”

He grinned, “So tell me what normally happens when you’re with someone and it leads to something sexual. Set the scene for me.”

You cleared your throat and decided to use your last time with Gunther as the example.

“Well, we were in his dorm room listening to music and laughing about something–“

“Back up a little. Did you invite yourself to his room? Did he invite you? What happened before you got to his room?”

“Oh, uh…” you pursed your lips in thought. “Well, we were out with two mutual friends. At a bar. Gunther, his name is Gunther, he was kind of flirting with me and I liked it. We didn’t really know each other all that well before but I always found him interesting. And so… he was flirting with me. Complimenting me. Things like that. Then he asked me to go back to his room with him. So, I sort of figured something would happen,” you shrugged. You didn’t know why it was so weird telling him all those details but it was.

You recounted how Gunther had made all the moves; kissed you first, groped you and then somehow it ended up with you sucking him off while he laid back on his bed and you were between his legs.

“And… he didn’t return the favor? Like you didn’t get anything?”

You shook your head, “I mean, I didn’t ask. He got off and then that was it really. I left not long after.”

Harry frowned, “Okay. And did you hope he’d do something in return? Like, use his hands or his mouth on you? Did you want more?”

Another shrug of your shoulders, “I mean… I didn’t expect it. Thought maybe next time we could do more? I don’t know.”

“You didn’t expect it. But would you have liked it?”

Nodding your head you looked away from his eyes, “I guess.”

“Did it turn you on?”

Another embarrassing thing to admit to someone you hardly knew. You nodded again, “It just all happened really quickly. I kind of thought things would take longer and we’d chat and maybe he’d have me stay longer and then… well anyway. It was like a total of thirty minutes or something that I was in his room.”

Harry sighed and crossed his leg over his thigh toward you, “And you really want to give Gunther the best head you can? The guy who wasn’t worried about your own needs? Seems very selfless of you, Y/n.”

You let out a breath and laughed, “I know. I just want to be good at it. And that was the first time we did anything so I figured I’d give him a pass.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Gunther is lucky you’re still willing to give him another shot.”

“I guess I thought if I was better he’d want to do it more and maybe then we could do other things too.”

“I’m going to be honest, Y/n,” Harry stretched his arm across the back of the couch, “You’re very cute and you probably won’t need to worry much about initiating most of the time. Like, for me, all you have to do is look at me with those pretty eyes and I’m ready to do whatever you want me to.”

It had been a surprise to hear that. You weren’t sure what to do with that information but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you looked down at your lap.

“But a good start is to keep eye contact. At least enough to indicate interest. Can you look at me?”

Lifting your gaze to his he grinned, “There we go. So pretty.”

You shook your head, “I’m sure you say that to everyone.”

Harry lifted his hand to your cheekbone, “No. I don’t. And I don’t do this with just anyone either. Sometimes I turn down a request. I don’t tell them why but… There’s gotta be attraction on my end as well. And I find you very attractive, Y/n.”

You swallowed down the saliva in your throat and blinked for a break in eye contact before biting your lip.

“Now, even though we’re here for one thing, I do have opinions on matters of the heart and relationships. And frankly, I have to be honest about this Gunther, guy,” he dropped his hand, making his fingers brush down your cheek until he was no longer touching you, “I don’t like that he didn’t offer to get you off too. That’s a big red flag in my book. I feel it’s important to give and to receive unless it’s explicitly stated at the beginning. But you told me you thought you’d get more. And that bothers me.”

“Well, he’s a nice guy. I think he just wasn’t thinking…”

“He wasn’t thinking about your needs. That was selfish of him and something to watch out for. We can give him a pass for the first time, but if you see him again and he still doesn’t think about your needs, I’d hope you’d end that relationship and seek someone who’s willing to be less selfish with you.”

It surprised you that Harry was saying that about Gunther. But perhaps he was right. You did leave his dorm that night quite disappointed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know you barely know me but that’s just my take. I’d never not offer to return the favor,” he kept his eyes on yours and you swore his lips were suddenly a shade darker. They looked like the perfect lips to kiss.

He grinned when he noted where your eyes were homed in on, “Do you mind coming closer? Feels like you're still too far away.”

You puffed out a nervous laugh as you scooted your bottom in closer toward Harry. His arm was draped over the back of the couch behind you and you felt the warmth of him before you felt his fingers graze the back of your neck.

 “So, I can kiss you? Can we start there?”

You breathed out through your nose and smiled as you nodded and kept your face angled toward his. He watched as you hesitantly put your palm on his knee and he put his hand over yours, “You’re a natural. See?”

Another soft laugh fell from your mouth as Harry’s face drew in closer to yours and your heart stopped as he nudged his nose into yours and you felt his soft lips smush against yours.

It didn’t take long for you to start feeling that familiar heat between your legs as he ran his tongue against yours. It felt so intimate… not like a tutor lesson or anything of the sort. It was you and a handsome man making out on his couch as he pulled you onto his lap. It felt real.

For some reason, you imagined it being a little more dry. Like a real lesson. Like he’d pull his pants down and tell you what to do and show you what he liked and what really made men go wild. You hadn’t imagined kissing being part of the equation for some reason.

“Did he tell you how soft your lips are or how those sweet little noises coming from your mouth drove him crazy?”

He spoke his words between kisses and you were going to pass out. Because no, Gunther gave you no compliments once you got into his dorm room.

You shook your head as you parted from the kiss, your eyes on his.

Harry’s eyes roved your face as he softly dragged his thumb back and forth on your jaw, “I don’t like him one bit. You deserve someone who’s going to tell you how good you are and how good you make them feel.”

He softly pressed his lips against yours again, the kiss heating up into a frenzied pace once again as you stuffed your fingers into his hair and then you felt the bulk of his erection under your thigh when you moved in closer.

Parting from the kiss you looked down and then back up at him and he just smiled. Like it was the most normal and natural thing ever. Which… it kind of was.

“Got me all hard already,” he slid his thumb from the edge of your bottom lip inward and you moaned, “Just like that. You’re already better than you think you are. You’re driving me crazy, Y/n. I want to see what these lips look like wrapped around my cock. Can we do that?”

You nodded and began to move off of him but Harry took your hand in his, making you pause, “I’ll let you get me off if you let me get you off too. Okay?”

Your eyes widened, “Really? I thought this was just for–“

“I have a method and it always includes getting the other person off too. Or at least making them feel good. Unless you don’t want that. That’s okay too, but I would prefer to touch you as well.”

“Okay,” your words were breathy as he helped you off his lap, keeping your hand in his but then he stood up and you watched as he ran his free hand over his crotch, “Is it okay if we do it my bed? A little more space there. Think it’ll feel less rushed.”

Obviously yes. You wouldn’t dream of saying no to this man. Not that you wanted to.

The space behind the partition was just a bed and one side table. His bed was neatly made and there was a plant hanging by the opening of the partition. He gestured for you to follow him onto his mattress and he placed his back at the wall, where he had no headboard.

Kneeing up to him you were feeling shy again and he leaned forward and cupped your face with one hand, “You’re doing so good. If you need to stop at any time just say the word. I’m not here to make you do something you don’t want. Okay?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I know. I trust you.”

“Good. Just wanted to remind you is all. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep going even if I’m enjoying it, which I have a feeling I’m gonna like whatever you do to me.”

You giggled and nodded. He was fluffing up your ego and you hadn’t even really gotten started yet.

Harry started to push his jeans down, lifted his hips to get them off his legs, and then kept his eyes on you as he held his hand out for you to take, “Come here.”

You put your hand in his and let yourself get pulled between his legs as you looked down at the sizable lump under his boxer briefs, “Can we take your jeans off? Kind of want to have you in my lap a little while before we get down to it, yeah?”

You nodded and unhooked your button before pulling your zipper down. Harry’s hands found your hips as you tugged your jeans down and he helped you out of them, leaving you in just your hoodie and panties. Like Harry. He was just in his boxer briefs and his hoodie too.

You crawled into his lap, your thighs straddling his, and sat down as Harry smoothed his hands up and down your thighs, “There we go. This feels nice, having you close like this,” he ran his palms toward your bottom and then back down your thighs to your knees, “How are you feeling?”

You put your palms on his shoulders, “Good. Feel good. And you?”

“I’m feeling great. I’ve got you here in my lap,” he brought a hand up from your thigh to your face, his fingers sliding behind your ear with his thumb at your cheekbone, “And I like you. I think this’ll be fun. Just want you to feel at ease with me.”

You shifted on his lap, getting in closer, “I do feel at ease with you, Harry. You’re really nice.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear,” his voice was soft as he gently pulled you towards him and pressed his mouth against yours again. His kiss was soft and sultry. Harry was far more sensual than you imagined he would be. Lots of soft touches and reassuring words. And his mouth against yours was addictive.

You moaned when his thumb ran along the edge of your panties at your thigh and you rocked your hips down, pressing your panties-covered pussy over his erection.

He inhaled softly through his teeth and lowered his mouth to your neck where you were melted into him. His warm mouth sponged wet kisses down your pulse point as you lowered a hand to the top of his cock.

He sighed when you began to rub your palm over him and you began to move back. You were ready to get him in your mouth.

“You can bring me out if you want. Or I can do it. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

You bit your lip and continued palming over him as you kept your gaze focused on his, “I’ll do it. Do guys like that more?”

He grinned and the dimples that carved into his cheeks had you swooning, “Yeah. Maybe. Depends on the guy but it can feel like the girl is really excited, like she can’t wait – the enthusiasm is nice. For me? I do like it more. But honestly, I wouldn’t complain if you wanted me to do it myself.”

You nodded in understanding as you focused on the dark green material of his underwear and reached toward the waistband. You looked up at him once more to check in and he just gave you a singular nod to keep going so you did.

The material was warm and stretchy. And you loved the way it felt to run your palm up the length of him, before peeling the fabric away and slowly revealing his cock. His tip was thick and smooth and dark pink. And then his shaft was girthy, quite meaty really, but so stiff. And when you’d pulled his underwear down far enough you took the whole of him in and it was… well it was a bit overwhelming. There was no way on God’s green earth you’d be able to stick that whole thing in your mouth.

“You don’t have to have it all in there. This isn’t a porno. I don’t need you to choke on it or anything like that. Use your hands and your mouth, as long as it’s nice and wet it’s gonna feel really good.”

You nodded. It was a relief that he wasn’t expecting you to deepthroat that thing, “Do you like it when someone can take it all the way?”

Harry breathed a laugh out of his nostrils, “Well… only if the person giving head likes that kind of thing. I would never enjoy it if someone wasn’t into that. But yes. I do rather like it. Not more than any other type of blow job, though.”

You gulped and continued palmed at his length softly. Harry kept his eyes on you to watch how you’d do it. To see what your go-to move was and when you made no move he finally spoke, “Go in however you want. Let’s see how you normally go about giving a blow job.”

“Okay. Yeah…” You took a deep breath and lowered yourself down as he fixed his feet flat on the mattress with knees bent upward, making space for you to fit between his thighs. First, you spat over his tip and used your hand to rub your saliva down his shaft. A quick glance up at him and he looked like he was enjoying it.

After spitting another glob over his slit that clung to your lips a little longer than it did the first time things were feeling much wetter. You stroked along the full length of his cock, from base to tip, tip to base, and back again as you lowered further, getting your lips just over his tip, and looked up at him, swiping your tongue over his crown. Smooth and warm. Adjusting your hips you got into a better position and gripped his base with both hands as you began to take him in your mouth. Your tongue cupped the underside of his cock as you dipped down and pulled up, suckling at his tip before repeating.

Harry’s fingers gently pushed at your chin, “I’d like you to do one thing for me, Y/n…” your eyes shot up to his, “Can you keep your eyes on me, just like you’re doing right now?”

You pulled off and nodded, “Yeah. Sorry.”

Harry tutted at you, “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just really fond of your pretty eyes. Personal preference is all.”

Keeping your gaze on his you kissed his tip softly and slowly before tonguing at his frenulum. It was a good thing you were looking at him in that moment because the expression on his face as you ran your tongue along the underside of his cockhead was lascivious and the sudden heat between you two might not have been noticed if you hadn’t been looking at him.

When you lowered your lips over him again, hollowing your cheeks and cupping the underside of his dick with your tongue, he palmed over your cheek and softly thumbed at your temple, “Y/n… fuck… that’s really good. Keep looking at me like this pretty girl.”

The soft touch from his hand and thumb on your face was full of affection and made your heart thunder in your chest. It made you dizzy the way he was looking at you. It was such a lewd act but somehow filled with tenderness.

The drool that leaked out of your mouth and down his shaft allowed your hands to slip around his base, twisting as you bobbed over the first bit of him with your mouth. It seemed like he was really enjoying what you were doing. Having your eyes on him while you were doing it felt more encouraging than embarrassing.

And Harry was very much enjoying what you were doing. He wasn’t all that picky when it came to getting blow jobs. Why would he be? Some hot girl wanted him to show her how to be better? Well, he rarely did much in the way of making someone any better than they already were.

Harry never intended to be known as a sex tutor or a sex guru. He was just a guy who loved sex. A guy who was patient and who really did care about the person he was with, even if it was just a one-time thing (which most of them were). And his line of studies gave him insight many lacked. The more he slept around (safely) the better he got and the more he understood. He put into practice the things he learned in his classes and when he was a Junior after a string of hookups with a group of very popular seniors he started to get a reputation.

It started with comments and discussions on the size of his cock. Then it eventually escalated to him being very good in bed. And how he could always make a woman come (he didn’t always make them come but he certainly tried and he learned the art of allowing sex to just be something that felt good and intimate and didn’t have to end in that elusive orgasm every time).

The first girl who was bold enough to ask him if he’d help her get to know her body better, had told him how she heard he was the best… and that had caught off guard. But he gave it a go. And he wound up enjoying the whole thing so much that when another girl asked him for help he decided there was no harm in going along with it.

He wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone, as some jealous of his prowess would make it seem. No, he just really wanted to help, he loved that connection and to have it end with sex (in whatever form) was never a bad thing. Mostly he was just having fun and if he could use some of his knowledge and give someone confidence by the end of a “session” then so be it.

When you sucked around him, slurping noises came from between your lips and the skin on his shaft and he moaned, “Oh that’s good…” He gently placed a hand at the back of your neck and nudged his hips upward the slightest when he felt his cock start to throb and balls tightened.

Harry pulled at you to bring you up so you slid your lips from his tip and looked at him with pretty rounded eyes as you sat on your knees.

“You’re perfect. If I had you sucking me off like this every day I’d have no complaints. That’s the work of someone who’s into it and I can tell you are. Got me so close to coming already,” he took your hand and kissed the tops of your knuckles. Yeah, you were already smitten with him. But maybe that was just because you liked his praise so much.

“Thank you,” you grinned shyly.

Harry took the hand he kissed and brought it down between his legs, sliding your fingers on the underside of his balls, “There’s this spot right here. Kind of smooth. Feel that?”

You nodded.

“It’s called the perineum. This spot,” he pressed the pad of your middle finger over the area of skin, “Feels really good when you rub it gently. Especially while you’re also giving a blow job. Maybe take my balls in your palm a little to massage them and then move to the perineum. Just about any man you suck off is gonna absolutely love it. It’s also a really good trick when you just want the guy to come already, ‘cause maybe he’s taking too long,” he grinned.

He dragged your hand up to cup his scrotum and you kept your eyes on his as you softly squeezed. Harry’s brows narrowed and his lips parted, “Let’s do that yeah? Wanna give it a go?”

Nodding, you lowered yourself again, your lips parting around his crown as you gently massaged his balls and kept your eyes angled up toward his. You kept one hand at the base of his shaft and felt the full, warmth of his sac in your palm before you pulled off of his cock and dropped your lips down to his balls, kissing the skin all around and skimming your tongue through every crevice and wrinkle, wetting him on all sides.

You remembered you were supposed to be looking up at him and when you saw his face it only egged you on. His soft groan and pink puffy lips parted in lust with hooded eyes so you wound your tongue down further and pressed the tip of your wet muscle to the spot he called the perineum.

“Fuck! Yes…”

You liked that reaction. So you did it again and used your hand on his shaft to continue pumping him in long strokes as you pressed over the small strip of skin under his scrotum before you brought your tongue all the way up over his balls and to his base. The pre-come dripping from his tip made things wetter as you slid your palm over him.

You kept one finger on his perineum and then brought your mouth back over his cock and the desperate whimper that fell from his lungs made you feel giddy. You sucked him in and flicked your sight up to him but his eyes were closed. You could feel his legs trembling as your shoulder was pressed into his inner thigh. Gently you brought your hand over his scrotum and massaged as you worked his tip with your lips and tongue.

He placed both of his hands on either side of your head, “Y/n… yes… honey I’m gonna come. That’s so good. You’re so good for me… holy shit… where do you want me to come, huh?”

You were kind of amazed at how he was so melty and whimpery from the blow job you were giving him. You lifted and looked up at him, “Just come in my mouth. Want you to feel good.”

He nodded as he panted and you put your lips back on him, lowering down and sucking as you used your tongue to apply pressure to his crown. Continuing to play with his balls and peek up at him you saw the moment his face scrunched up and his lips dropped open wide. No sound came out at first but you tasted the first pump of his come down your throat and then felt his big cock throbbing against your tongue and it was the hottest blow job you’d ever given. And you weren’t even receiving… the reaction he gave you had you so turned on and so dizzy that you felt the need to take him deeper.

You forced yourself down further, feeling his tip nudging and spurting at the top part of your throat and you swallowed around him before sputtering slightly.

When he finally began to moan it was deep and throaty. His head was tilted back, facing the ceiling as he pumped into your mouth and down your throat. The hands he held at the side of your face were gentle and honestly? You were in heaven. You could do this with him every day if he let you.

And you tried not comparing Gunther to Harry but it was hard. Harry was so masculine and his cock was prettier and much bigger. With Gunther, you could almost take all of him in your mouth without much issue. You didn’t but you probably could have. Harry was a different story. His big cock filled up all the space in your mouth and he smelled so good too. It was a mix of what you assumed was his natural smell with a clean powdery soap.

But it was the moans Harry was making that had you feeling so worked up. He really enjoyed your blow job and that was all you needed to feel good about yourself and your ability.

Harry’s moan quieted into a simper as you continued dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock until he lulled his head forward and looked down at you, “S’good. Fuck that was good.” He prodded at you to bring your mouth off of him and you sat back with a proud smile.

He leaned forward to pull at the back of your neck and smash his lips against yours. You clung onto his shoulders as he positioned you next to him on the bed on your bottom and then he ran his hands down your sides and pulled at your sweater, “Can we get this off?”

You gripped the bottom hem of your hoodie as Harry sat back and peeled his sweater off over his head, making you pause so you could devour his chest and his arms, and his abs with your eyes. The tattoos that were scattered over his body and on his arms were no surprise. You’d heard through the grapevine about his tattoos once your roommate told you about him. And you heard he was fit. But this? He was the perfect amount of muscled and beefy. He was lean but he appeared well-fed. Broad shoulders, pecs you could bite into…

You gulped when you felt Harry’s big hands smoothing up and down your limbs as he absorbed the sight of you before you finally pulled your sweater off and then unhooked your bra, holding the cups up against your breasts for a moment to make sure he was still in it. Because maybe your body would be a complete turn off but his expressive face did all the talking and he moved his hands up your hips as his irises roamed over your skin.

“So pretty, Y/n,” he spoke like he knew you needed the reassurance. Which you did. So you slowly lowered your bra and pulled the straps from your arms and almost immediately Harry ducked down and kissed your right nipple while his hand palmed at your left tit. He moaned against your soft flesh and you felt cool air hit your skin in the path where his tongue laved against you.

A soft gasp fell from your lips when he wrapped his mouth over your nipple and looked up at you from his spot, pink lips suckling at your breast. It was almost as if he needed to make sure he was doing what you liked. As if the man wasn’t some kind of expert.

Harry’s bulky body moved over you and his hands brushed over the skin at your sides and down to your hips where your panties clung tight. You lifted your hips, ready for him to take care of you, ready to have him pull the last bit of fabric from your body and Harry grinned at you.

“I’m gonna pull these down, okay?”

Nodding you laughed in slight nervousness. You weren’t sure when you’d gotten so eager but giving Harry a blow job had made you a bit insatiable and all of the nice things he said about you, how good you were... Your insides were aching and you knew you were probably already wet, the crotch of your panties was warm against your skin.

And as he slowly dragged the material down your legs he kept looking up at you. A little bit of reassurance that he was only going to go as far as you wanted.

Paying close attention to his eyes you watched him drag his gaze over all your crevices and then up to your tits and then your eyes as he licked his lips. He wrapped a hand on the underside of your calf, lifting your leg the smallest bit as he tucked himself in closer, his shoulders pressing into your thighs.

The warm, soft kisses he dotted on your inner thigh as he looked up at you made you feel worshiped. Like he was savoring the moment and was going to take his time with you.

“Y/n, I just want to make you feel good. Tell me if you don’t like something or if you need something more okay? Because you did so good for me and I’m gonna be dreaming about those lips on me. Just want to make you feel as good as good as you made me feel.”

Harry could tell you liked a bit of praise. A compliment here and there was easy enough to throw in because it was all true. You were very good and you were so pretty and now he was going to return the favor as best he could.

When you felt his tongue swipe up through your crease you moaned faintly as you kept your eyes on him. And when he dug in more, attached his lips to your pussy, and began sucking at you the groan that fell from his chest rumbled through your core and you held on to the back of his head as you arched your back off of the pillow under yourself. His lips slicked up and down, tongue pressing at your clit and then he moved, bringing his arm in and you felt his fingers prodding at your entrance as he looked up at you, pulling his mouth away from your pussy, “Tastes so good, Y/n. Could bury my face here all day long. You mind if I finger you a little? Would that feel good?”

He ran his digits through your folds like he already knew your answer and you nodded quickly, “Yeah. Okay. If you want.”

He grinned before you felt him push his middle finger past your opening and then he watched the face you made as he curled his finger up in your magic little spot. The one only your rabbit vibrator seemed to be able to hit.

You gasped and with that, he brought his lips back over your clit and got to work. His dark curls were smooth and thick between your fingers and the way he kept pulling his gaze up to yours as he licked into you was naughty. The whole scene was something from a dream. There was something so soft about how he kept his eyes on you to check-in.

You’d had a couple of guys go down on you before but they had no idea what they were doing and you weren’t sure if it was just supposed to feel like slippery nothing gliding over your labia or not. But now, with Harry doing the work… well you realized what it was actually meant to feel like. And Harry was not giving you slippery nothing.

He seemed to enjoy it as well which made your heart lurch in your chest. Especially with how he was moaning into you like you tasted good. And he had told you as much, which… that had you on edge already.

When Harry slid in a second finger he opened his mouth wide and tongued up from where his fingers were pumping into you to your clit.

You couldn’t help the pathetic moans that were loudly bouncing off the walls of his studio, “Oh god, Harry…”

But the thing that was really seeping into your skin and your veins and making your heart pound was his eyes on yours. You couldn’t get over it. It was so intimate and sexy and the gushy noises coming from your slippery pussy were lewd and dirty. It was the perfect juxtaposition of just nasty enough but also sweet and soft that had you spiraling.

When they tell you that the biggest part of getting turned on is all in the mind, that’s absolutely true. Harry was a master at it. You weren’t sure you’d ever been so turned on with any man before. He really knew which buttons to push and all the right things to say.

“Fuck, that’s good… holy shit, Harry…”

He loved hearing you whine his name and the feel of your hips bucking upward in tiny bursts. You were one of those girls that was going to have an orgasm, he just knew it. The way you kept getting wetter every time you shot your eyes down to his was a big telltale sign. Some didn’t like the eye contact but he loved it and so did you, clearly.

He moaned into your pussy and swallowed you down as he worked his tongue in teasing circles around your clit before wrapping his lips around you again and smushing down over you with just the right amount of pressure.

The arm he had under your thigh he wrapped under your lower back, pulling you in closer if that was possible, as he continued fingering you with his other hand. The man was unquenchable. Like he needed to stuff his face in as close as humanly possible. Like he needed to suck you dry and make it so that you never forgot his name.

Your insides were melting for him. His fingers were magic inside of you and it had your brain all fuzzed out and blurry. But the way he rolled your clit under his tongue was divine, otherworldly… he knew what he was doing with that big mouth of his.

You gasped and looked back down at him again and his eyes were already pinned to yours.

“Oh… gonna co… oh fuck, gonna come…” you felt like you were being lifted into the air, levitating and vibrating off the bed and out of the atmosphere as he kept his fingers and his tongue steady. But when he moaned deeply into your cunt, that low resonate sensation traveling from your clit to your core and through your tummy made you lose control.

You didn’t realize you were yanking his hair as your legs quaked and your body liquified under him. But it didn’t deter him. He watched you unravel, tits bouncing and back arching as you orgasmed into his mouth and he curled his fingers up against your g-spot as you clamped over his digits.

If he didn’t have his mouth occupied he would have praised you more in that moment. Told you how pretty you were and how good you did for him. But he waited until you began to slowly come back to earth before whispering into your ear the sweet things he knew you’d like to hear.

He laid next to you and grasped your face, kissing your lips softly as you sighed, “So fucking good. What a pretty orgasm that was, Y/n…” He spoke between kisses.

“Did that all for me? Yeah?”

You couldn’t answer him. Not in that moment. You’d just melted and dissolved and had only begun to re-solidify and become a real human with lungs and limbs and skin and pores again.

“You are really fun to eat out, Y/n. Tasted so nice and you sound so sexy when you come. You can call me anytime you need a release okay?” He continued kissing your cheek and your lips as he spoke softly.

Harry didn’t rush you out like you thought he might. He rubbed over your tummy and kissed your breasts softly and ran his lips up the side of your neck as you slowly opened your eyes and sighed.

“Feel okay?”

You nodded and smiled, “Really good.”

“Stay as long as you want. Okay? No rush. We can even grab dinner together if you want or I can make you something.” Harry wasn’t sure why he asked you that. While he didn’t usually rush anyone out, he didn’t typically offer food or dinner either. There was just something about you that compelled him to ask. Perhaps he hoped you’d stick around a bit longer.

You sat up, “Oh. That’s really nice of you. But… maybe I should probably head back. Get some schoolwork done.”

You’d have loved to stay for dinner but you also didn’t want to get your feelings mixed up for a guy like Harry. Not that there was anything wrong with him, but you understood what this was. A one-time thing. Something fun where you got to learn a thing or two. If you stuck around too long you’d probably just want more. And that would only end in heartbreak for you. Because Harry was kind of the ideal guy in a lot of ways.

“Of course. Just thought I’d ask.”

There were no hard feelings for this kind of thing. Harry wasn’t offended that you didn’t want to stay. He’d had a good time with you and he was almost certain you had a good time as well. And that was just about all one could ask for.

Harry let you use his bathroom to clean up and get dressed. And as you did so you thought about how Gunther didn’t even offer you anything to eat or to stay after. In fact he didn’t even ask if you wanted to use his bathroom, when that would have been nice after giving him head. Because even though Gunther didn’t really touch you, you were still wet, and walking back to your dorm with wet panties was not a nice feeling. Especially when you didn’t even get anything out of it.

You’d be wary of Gunther. You’d give him another shot because you were a nice girl but you weren’t going to ignore the concerns Harry had. Perhaps Harry was right.

When you stepped out of the bathroom Harry handed you a glass of water, “Drink a little before you head out, and what dorm do you live in?” He looked down at his phone as he asked.

“Oh… uh the Millennium dorms near the arts building.”

He nodded as you took a gulp of the water and he showed you his phone, “Uber will be here for you in three minutes. I’ll walk you down, okay?”

“Wait. You didn’t have to do that! Um… I can walk or get an Uber myself it’s–“

He shook his head and grinned, “I know I didn’t have to but it’s getting late. Don’t want you walking twenty minutes by yourself. Who knows what could be lurking out there,” he laughed.

You pointed at him, “Fine. But I’m gonna pay you back. Next time I see you okay?”

“Not necessary. Now come on,” he playfully swatted at your bottom and directed you toward his door, “Let’s go downstairs and wait for…” he looked at his phone, “Rebecca in a white Trail Blazer.”

PART 2

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[ateezscupid]

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST

your adorable nerd boyfriend yunho ♡

"Yunho!" You walk into the studio holding a bag of carry-out food. "You still here?"

Yunho's head peeks out from behind the soundproof door, his eyes bloodshot and weary. "Couldn't get the harmony right," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the faint strums of an unplugged guitar. "Think I'm gonna need to tweak the bridge a bit."

"Aw, baby," You walk over, sitting the carry-out on a chair nearby and kicking the door behind you closed. "You're burning the midnight oil again. What's up?"

"I just-" he sighs. "Hongjoong asked if I wanted to help on the album and I said yes but it's just not coming out right. I'm no good at this."

Your face curls up as you giggle. "Yunho, are you kidding? You're, like, super fucking talented when it comes to making music! You literally wrote a song for me every valentines day and every birthday I had since we first started dating. Why are you so…down? What's with the sudden self-doubt?"

"I've just--been real stressed." He sighs. "I had a shit ton of promotions and a shit ton of practice and work to do and then having to work on the album I-"

"Then tell Hongjoong you won't be able to? You know he won't be mad. You guys have been friends for ages." You rub his shoulders gently, feeling the tension knotting his muscles. You smile warmly and push his glasses up his nose. "You're doing too much."

He rolls his eyes. "Sure. But I want to keep working on it. I wanna participate. I wanna help Hongjoong. Everything has just been stressing me out and we haven't done anything with each other in ages-"

"What do you mean? I hangout in the studio with you literally every time you come in here." You furrow your eyebrows and then pause realizing what he means. "Oh..~"

Yunho nods his head. "Yeah, but it's not the same. I've been so busy, I feel like I've lost touch with everyone, especially with you." He turns to face you, placing the guitar aside. "And I don't wanna disappoint him. I know he's counting on me."

"Well do you want me to help…?" You tilt your head and place your hand on his thigh. "Help with the tension?" You say with a cheeky smile.

Yunho laughs, the first genuine one in hours. "I'd love that," he says, leaning back into the chair and closing his eyes. "But I actually meant with the music."

"So you don't want head?"

He pauses. "Well, both, actually." He opens one eye and peers at you with a half-smile. "I mean, I'm not opposed to it."

You smile and get on your knees, scooting closer and grabbing the hem of his sweatpants. "Just work on the music. I'll do what I need to do." You start to massage his legs, feeling the tightness in his muscles slowly release under your skilled touch. Yunho sighs deeply, leaning his head back.

You bite your lip, pushing his sweatpants down and running your fingers over the bulge showing in his boxers. "Let's get these off," you murmur, your voice low and teasing. He lifts his hips slightly to help you, his breath catching in his throat. You never got over his size, and the way his body responds to your touch still sends shivers down your spine. As you pull his boxers down, his erection springs free, and you wrap your hand around it, giving it a gentle squeeze. Yunho groans, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours, full of heat and need.

With a wink, you lean in, placing soft kisses along his inner thigh, making him squirm. The studio's dim lighting casts a warm glow on his skin, highlighting the goosebumps that rise from your touch. The faint smell of sweat and the lingering scent of guitar strings mingle with his unique scent, creating a heady cocktail of desire. You trace the veins on his cock with your tongue, feeling him twitch in your grip. You look up at him, his eyes now wide with anticipation, and you take him fully in your mouth, sucking and teasing with the perfect amount of pressure. His hips buck, but he quickly stifles the sound, not wanting to disturb the quiet of the night.

"So pretty…" he mumbles, watching as you work your magic. The words are barely a whisper, but the intensity behind them sends a thrill through you. You've always loved this power, the ability to make him feel this way, to make him forget about the stresses of the world outside these walls.

You move your mouth up and down, finding the rhythm that makes his toes curl and his hands tighten in your hair. His eyes are glued to the sight of you, kneeling before him, your lips wrapped around him. The taste of him is familiar, but it never gets old, never fails to make your stomach flip with excitement.

He grabs your hair, guiding your movements, and you feel a shiver run through him. The quietness of the studio is only broken by the occasional sound of someone passing by outside, the distant sound of cars on the street, and the muffled thump of music coming from the other side of the building. It's a stark contrast to the symphony of your heart beating in your ears and the wet sounds of your mouth on his skin.

"You're so pretty, baby," Yunho whispers, his voice strained with pleasure as he watches you, his eyes hooded with lust. You look up, meeting his gaze, and the connection between you is palpable, a silent promise that no matter what happens, you'll always be there to take the edge off.

You moan around his cock, the vibration sending shivers down his spine. He's getting closer, you can feel it in the way his thighs tense and his breathing quickens. You pick up the pace, eager to give him the release he so desperately needs. The tip of your nose nuzzles against his pelvis as you deep-throat him, your throat tightening around his length.

"F-Fuck-!" he chuckles and leans forward, his hand gripping the chair's armrest tightly as he watches you in rapt attention. "Just like that, baby… just like that…" His voice is a hoarse whisper, his eyes glazed with lust as you continue your relentless ministrations. The way you take him in, the passion in your eyes as you suck him off, it's like nothing he's ever felt before.

You flutter your eyelashes as you look up at him, your eyes watering slightly from the effort, but the look of pure ecstasy on Yunho's face spurs you on. You feel the heat building in your own core, the friction of your own arousal against your thighs as you continue to suck and lick, bringing him closer to the edge. His grip on your hair tightens, and you know he's about to come.

His eyes are tightly shut, his head thrown back, and his breaths come in sharp gasps. You feel the muscles in his thighs tighten even further, and you know that he's on the brink. With one final, deep suck, you feel him pulse in your mouth, and he lets out a strangled moan as he releases. You swallow eagerly, savoring the taste of him, feeling his body relax as the tension drains from his muscles.

You only slow for a moment, now wrapping your other hand around his cock and stroking it as you swallow the last of his cum. You sit back on your heels, smiling up at him, your mouth glistening. Yunho's chest heaves as he looks down at you, his eyes still clouded with pleasure. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice raw and needy.

You smile, leaning back down and kitten licking his tip once again, gently sucking on his tip. He literally jolts at the sensation, his body still reeling from the intense orgasm. "Holy fuck, I just came-"

You chuckle in response, pushing his cock further in your mouth, enjoying the way he squirms. "You can always come more," you murmur, your voice muffled by his flesh. You love teasing him, pushing his limits, making him feel good. It's a power dynamic you both thrive on, one that has grown over the years of your relationship. You swirl your tongue around his sensitive tip before popping it out again. "Can I get one more?"

"I…" he sighs, his body still trembling slightly. "I'm not sure I can handle another one right now." He opens his eyes and looks at you, his smile lazy and content. "But, if you want…"

"You've handled it before." You purr, stroking him gently, watching the pleasure play out on his face as you bring him back to full hardness. The challenge in your tone is clear, and it ignites a competitive spark in Yunho's eyes. He nods, a silent agreement to let you continue your sweet torment.

With renewed enthusiasm, you swirl your tongue around his shaft, feeling his cock twitch in response. Each touch, each lick is met with a soft gasp or moan, his hands tangling in your hair as he guides your movements. The studio's ambiance adds a layer of intimacy to the moment, the muffled sounds of the world outside seemingly fading away as you focus solely on bringing him pleasure.

The overstimulation of his senses is almost too much for Yunho to handle. He watches you, mesmerized by the way your eyes light up with mischief and desire, your mouth a perfect "O" around his cock, your tongue flicking and teasing with the finesse of a pro. The way you manipulate him is like an art form, a symphony of pleasure that he's all too willing to succumb to. He leans back into the chair, his legs spreading wider to give you more access, his body arching off the seat slightly as you deep-throat him again.

He opens his mouth as if he was going to say something, but no words come out. Instead, he releases a low groan as you continue to suck him off, your movements deliberate and practiced. The sound echoes faintly in the studio, sending a thrill through you. You've always loved making him feel this good, reducing him to a puddle of need and desire.

His groans even started turning into whimpers and it was the sweetest sound in the world to your ears. You could feel your own arousal building, your pussy throbbing and wet, begging for attention. But you knew you had to focus on him right now. You sucked harder, your cheeks hollowing as you took him deep, feeling the warmth of his cock in your mouth, the pulse of his blood beating against your tongue. You could tell he was close again, his body tensing and his breaths coming in short gasps.

"Fuck-" he whines, gripping the arm rests so tightly his knuckles turn white. "Oh my fucking god,"

You laugh around his cock, feeling the vibrations from his voice resonate through your mouth and into him. The sound spurs you on, your movements becoming more urgent. You can feel your own orgasm building as you watch him lose control. You've always had this effect on each other, pushing each other's boundaries, finding new ways to make the other feel alive.

"Fuckfuckfuck," his glasses even started to fall off his face. You giggle, reaching up with one hand to gently push them back up, not breaking the rhythm of your mouth. His eyes are now fully open, watching you with a mix of amazement and lust. "You're gonna make me come again," he whispers, his voice strained and desperate.

You nod, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You're enjoying this, the power you hold over him, the way he's at your mercy. You increase the pace, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth, stroking and sucking with a fervor that leaves him trembling. The studio's air feels thick with desire, the scent of sex and sweat mingling with the faint aroma of music equipment.

"Fuck, Y/N," he gasps. "Fuckfuckfuck, I-I'm-" He can't even form the words as his hips thrust upward, meeting your mouth's eager suction. His orgasm crashes over him, and you feel the warmth of his cum fill your mouth once again. You swallow with a satisfied smile, feeling the muscles in your jaw relax as you release him with a final kiss to the tip.

You stand up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, watching as Yunho slumps back into the chair, his body boneless with pleasure. He opens his eyes to look at you, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "Thank you," he murmurs again, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Now, how about you?"

[darkbluekies]

In the hands of a madman 2024 ver

Doctor!yandere oc x reader

Summary: a doctor is very peculiar about his favorite patient, and senses a threat once they disobey him.

Warnings: yandere, poison, murder, cuff restraints

Word count: 2.4k

You gag.

“Yes, yes, I know”, he coos, grimacing and removes the wooden stick out of your mouth. “I’m sorry.”

You're left with a bitter taste in your mouth. Why does he always stick that thing as far down your throat as humanly possible? You thank heavens that it’s not one of the needles extracting blood from your arm, although you’re sure that’s what’s waiting tomorrow.

“Still nothing?” you ask cautiously. 

He meets your eyes and you know immediately. You sigh heavily. Your heart sinks to your stomach. 

Every three months, he’s doing all sorts of tests to see if you’re getting better — or what’s what he’s saying. Every three months, Dr Kry has to check every vital sign on you to make sure that his sickness isn’t getting out of his control. But you don’t like them. They hurt. Badly.

“Will I ever get to go home? I want to.” 

Dr Kry sighs and sits down on his rolling stool, coming over to your bed.

“I know you do, but you that’s not possible”, he says apologetically. “You know that too.”

“Yeah, because you keep reminding me”, you mutter. 

“That’s better than giving you false hope, isn’t it? Wouldn’t that drive you insane?”

It would, but you don’t say it out loud. Doesn’t need to.

“I want to go home!” you say again, louder this time. 

“Saying it louder won’t make you better or me change my mind”, Dr Kry says. 

You sigh and press your palms to your eyes, trying to press the tears back into your eyes before they escape. You’ve been here for too long by now. You’ve been isolated for so incredibly long. ALl you want is to go home. You know no one, talk to no one beside him. The proper, sophisticated man who’s stiffer than a stick. Dr Kry sighs and moves closer. 

“I know that you’re disappointed”, he says and puts his large hand on your shoulder. “But this is for the best. “I don’t want you to get worse.”

“I hate these fucking tests! They hurt.”

“I know.”

He glances towards the white air purifier on the shelf beside the bed. The poisoned air purifier. He’s always making sure it’s not too much, not too little. Just the exact amount to keep you where he wants you — weak and vulnerable, dependent on him. 

“I know it’s hard”, he says encouragingly. “I know that you’re in pain, but you’re doing so good. You can always call for me if you need me, okay? I’m available all day and night for you.”

You press forward a smile, but can’t help but feel a wave of sadness wash over you. Why did this happen to you? Where did you go wrong to end up here? How could a sore throat get you bed bound in a hospital room? If only you knew. 

“Let’s get you tucked in again”, Dr Kry says and helps you lie down in bed. “You shouldn’t be putting to much pressure on your body.”

He pushes up your pillows, having you lie in a 45-degree angle. It helps you breathe at night. He always tucks the blanket close to your body, as if you were a butterfly in a cocoon. He gives you a small smile before standing up. 

“Please don’t go”, you whisper. “I don’t want to be left here.”

The man looks at you, studies you carefully before nodding and sitting back down. He wipes your lonely tear with his finger. He looks at his wet finger, thinking. 

“I feel helpless”, you admit. “I don’t think I’ll ever get well again.”

Little do you know that’s exactly what he wants. 

“It’s okay, Y/N”, he says. “I will take care of you. I will stay with you until you’re well again.”

He has to force back a smile. 

“I don’t want to do these anymore”, you say monotonously. 

“I know you don’t, but you have to”, Dr Kry says apologetically and moves closer to the bed on his rolling stool. “They’re important.”

“They hurt …”

“I know, but you’re doing so good, okay? I’m so proud of you.”

You give him a small, painful smile. 

“I’ll sit here until you fall asleep, don’t worry”, he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You close your eyes slowly. He fades out. 

He takes blood tests the following day. Needles, pain.

“Now, you need to take a nap”, he says and tucks you in. 

The daily afternoon nap. You hate it, but he insists. While you sleep, he’s out taking care of other patients that are not you. He hates it, hates wasting his time and skill on people that aren’t you. Those patients are one time patients that are there for surgeries, consultations or checkups. No long term patients that have to stay in the hospital. Everyone gets to leave after he meets them. Everyone but you. You stay. 

You keep your eyes closed until Dr Kry leaves the room. Quickly, you sit up and get out of bed. After all these fucking tests, you’re deserving of something else than the tasteless cardboard Dr Kry gets you. Just one brownie. Something that has sugar. And maybe some coffee for caffeine too. 

Quietly, you sneak out into the corridor. There’s something about these sterile passageways that makes the hair on your back stand on its end. Is it the dehumanized area or the fact that you’re never allowed here? Is it nerves or excitement? Whatever it is, you decide to speed up your steps and hurry towards the elevators before anyone sees you. They’ll tell him. Just as the doors are about to close, someone stops the doors. A boy dressed in a similar hospital gown as yourself forces his way into the elevator. He gives you a rushed, apologetic smile. 

“Sorry”, he says sheepishly. “I am in a hurry.”

“What happened to you?” you ask and smile halfly. 

“I escaped from the therapist. A real pain in my ass.”

You can’t help but giggle. The young man licks his lips and runs a hand through his hair. 

“Have you met her?” he asks. “The therapist?”

“No”, you say. 

You haven’t met anyone but your stiff and proper doctor. 

“Don’t”, the young man advices you and leans his back against the wall. “She’s mental. I honestly think she should be the one getting interrogated — not me.” He looks at you, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“Do you meet others?” you ask. 

“In the lounge. Have you been there?”

You shake your head and lower your eyes. 

“Did you just arrive?” the man asks. 

You shake your head again. 

“How long have you been here?”

“A while.”

The elevator stops and the doors open at your floor. 

“Are you going to the cafeteria?” the man asks. 

“Yes”, you reply. 

“I’m coming with you. Maybe you can help me blend in.”

“Okay.”

The boy seems frantic, but happy. Running on adrenaline and excitement. Together, you walk through the hospital to the cafeteria and realize that you don’t have any money. Your shoulders fall. Did you come here for nothing? 

“Aren’t you going to order something?” the young man asks. 

“I don’t know”, you reply quietly. 

Before you have the time to come up with a lie why you can’t order anything, you recognise something in the corner of your eye. A blonde man dressed in a white robe. You feel your blood run cold. 

“What do we have here?” Dr Kry asks and you have a hard time reading his tone or facial expressions. “What do you think you are doing out of bed?”

He walks over to you and grabs your shoulder. You flinch. His grip is … tight. Painful. 

“You’re supposed to rest”, Dr Kry says shortly.

He looks at the young man. His eyes seem to go right through him. 

“Where are you supposed to be?” he asks. 

He doesn’t answer. Dr Kry gives him a cold gaze before grabbing your upper arm in a tight grip. He doesn’t say anything as he starts to pull you with him. His steps are quick, steady. Angry. 

“Doctor …”, you try.

He doesn’t answer. Dr Kry pushes you into the elevator and presses the button. He doesn't let go of your arm.

“Doctor, I’m sorry”, you say. 

He still doesn’t answer. You barely dare to look at him. There’s something about his face that scares you. It's stoic, unreadable. But he oozes anger. Like a dark cloud.

The elevator stops, the doors open. His tight grip remains as he drags you back into your room.

“Lay down”, he instructs shortly.

You do, too scared to disobey. Dr Kry walks past you, to the drawers by your bed. He rips out two leather bands that look like belts for dolls. Before you're aware of what he's doing, he's strapped one of your wrists to the bed railing.

“Wait, doctor-”, you blurt out.

“Be quiet.”

He locks your other wrist to the other railing. You tug at the restraints, and find them secure.

“Are they too tight?” Dr Kry asks, still with that short tone that sends icy needles down your spine.

“Doctor, what are you-?”

“Answer the question. Do they hurt?”

“No.”

“Good.”

He turns to his desk, ignoring you.

“Doctor, I'm sorry”, you say.

“You broke my trust”, he says without giving you any attention. “It's important, for your healing, that you do not deceive me. I need to be able to trust that you do as I say. How many times have you done this?”

“Only this time, I promise.”

He doesn't answer. You feel how your eyes fill with tears. Your body is in such a vulnerable state that your body betrays you. You didn't want to upset him, didn't want to put your own health at risk by doing this. 

“I'm sorry, doctor”, you sniffle. “I didn't mean to break your trust.”

He sighs and turns his head to look at you. His blue eyes soften and he rises from his chair, coming over to your bed. He can't stay mad at you, not when you're clearly dumb. You don't understand, he can't be mad at you for not understanding. He should — and is — mad at himself for not foreseeing these situations and making sure you don't do it.

“You know that I only want what's best for you, don't you?” he asks and wipes your tears with his hand.

“Yes”, you reply.

“In that case, I want you to never repeat this mistake. Mistakes are forgivable, but they should be minimized, do you understand that?”

“Yes. Do you forgive me?”

He has to force back a smile. You're so unbelievably cute.

“Yes, I do forgive you”, he says. 

“Can you take off the restraints?”

“No. I might forgive you, but I need you to know what happens once mistakes occur. This is the consequences that follow. If I can't trust you to be where I want you to be, I need to take precautions to make sure you are.”

You lower your gaze.

“Who was that, by the way?” he asks. “That young … man. Why did you speak to him?”

“I don't know, he took the same elevator as me.”

“I don't want you to speak with him again. If he's the one they're looking for, I don't want you getting influenced by his reckless ideas.”

“I don't get to speak to anyone, anyways.”

“And that's how it should be. We don't know why you're sick, and you shouldn't contaminate someone else.”

“What about you, then? You can get sick too.”

“I'm ready to take that risk.”

He's too nice, you think. All he wants is to take care of you and you put his selfless risks to hell when you decide to disobey him. How horrible of you.

“Now, you need to take that nap for real”, he says. “I will sit by my desk. If you need something you can just let me know.”

He walks back to his desk and sits down, starting to file some paperwork. You tug at the restraints. You're not going anywhere.

When you’ve fallen asleep, Dr Kry makes his way through the hospital. They’ve captured that young man and put him back into his room … and Dr Kry wants a talk with him. He opens the door quietly. The young lays in bed, sleeping. Dr Kry circles around him, taking a good look at him. Did you find him cute? Hot? Did you like talking to him? Did you think that he was better than him? Did you enjoy those ten minutes with him more than these months with Kry? Do you want to meet with him again? He glares at the sleeping man. Dr Kry walks over to the supply closet, an identical to the one in your room, and takes out one of the spare pillows. Silently, he walks over to the bed, lifts the pillow and presses it over the young man’s face. He widen his eyes, pulled out of his slumber. He screams against the pillow, his voice getting muffled in the fabric. 

“Normally, I’d make this easy for you”, Dr Kry grunts as the man starts to fight against him. “Out of pity, but you don’t deserve that mercy.”

He screams in confusion, fear. Dr Kry can make out words. What. No. Help. Stop.

“Just give in and give yourself that mercy”, Dr Kry continues. “If you continue to fight against me, you’ll be in more pain.”

The man cries. Dr Kry breaks out into a smile. 

“You’re going to die either way, you can choose to end it quicker.”

The young man doesn’t seem to get the memo. He continues to fight, cry, plead. He drinks it all in. The horror, the helplessness. The dear in headlight. He has seen the light in people’s eyes disappear multiple times during his job as a doctor. To see the moment someone becomes just a piece of flesh. He has never enjoyed it as much as now. The man stops moving. Dr Kry removes the pillow and takes a step back, looking at the lifeless body. He breathes out. Finally, he can calm down. 

And now, all he needs to do is to make sure he can not be traced back. 

He finds you sleeping soundly as he comes back to your room, wrists still locked to the sides of the bed. You make his heart ache. He sits down beside you, brushing his fingertips over your cheek. 

I control your life, my little one. You’re going to say with me and I’ll take every repercussion to make sure you don’t disappear. 

[kissitbttr]

miguel putting up with his girl’s princess attitude

-

“miguel!” you call out from the bathroom as your fingers delicately fix the straps of your bodycon dress. “can you come here for a minute?”

miguel sighs, this is the third time you keep calling him knowing how busy he is at the moment. work has gotten the best of him, and if reinventing new techs back to back isn’t enough to drain him, he has to keep up with your needs daily.

does he has the courage to say no to you, though? nope. as much as he hates to admit it because it’s embarrassing, he’s scared of you. if the spider society think that Miguel is too frightening then they have not seen you get mad or being a brat.

“coming, baby!” he walks out of his office while taking off his glasses, rolling the sleeves of his henley shirt to his elbows.

the bathroom door is left wide open, immediately seeing you standing before the mirror in a long and tight fitting grey dress that falls just around your ankles. and just like that, his annoyance completely washed off,

he takes a good look at you. eyes slowly observing every single detail of your face and down to your body. the way that dress hugs your curves and accentuate your best assets should be a crime,

God, you’re such a perfection.

“shut your mouth before you catch flies, babe” you jokingly say as your fiancee stares at you with his jaw slightly agape. “mind helping me?”

Miguel clears his throat after, slightly smirking as he shrug his shoulders. he leans against the door way with his arms crossed, eyes never leaving yours.

“you look absolutely divine, mi amor.” he comments, taking his lower lip between his teeth. “is that new?” he points at the dress,

rolling your eyes playfully, you try to keep your composure still. even after three years of dating—now engaged— he still manages to make your heart skips and create butterflies in the pit of your stomach,

“I know” you reply in confidence, winking at him which he chuckles in return. “and yes it is! it’s SKIMS! got it yesterday, does it look good on me?”

he frowns, tilting his head to the side. “baby, you already know the answer to that come on now… you make anything look sexy.” he strides closer to you as he stands from behind you, “now, què necesitas?” he questions, resting his hands on his hips

you find it attractive how he towers over you, and it’s one thing that you love about him. it’s not that you’re petite or anything. but compared to how tall and big he is, you’re definitely tiny.

“straighten my hair for me please? I can’t reach it” you pout at him through the mirror, “just this part right here” fingers move to the back to touch part of your hair,

“ay dios mio, woman… you’re lucky i love you” he teases before grabbing the iron from the sink. “going out with the girls, mami? i assume lunch?” he asks as he starts parting your hair with one hand,

your head shakes, straightening the dress. “no, I’m doing cake testing today and wedding dresses … Darla is bringing three more flavors.”

he stops what he’s doing, giving you a confused look. “alone? cariño why didn’t you tell me? you know I’d come with you” he feels a bit disappointed and now guilty that he’s busying himself with work and instead you’re left dealing with your wedding, alone.

his hand rests on your shoulder and you move yours on top of him. “hey, it’s okay, Miggy… you’ve been so stressed lately i do not want to put more pressure… it was last minute anyway, she texted me this morning.”

“you’re my girl, i would never be too busy for you.” he says almost too fast,

giving him a sincere smile, you nod your head. “yes… i know, baby. trust me it’s okay…plus it’s bad luck for the groom to see his bride in a wedding dress” you giggle a bit. “we can go over the seating arrangements again together, yeah? i promise” you plant a soft kiss on his finger,

Miguel exhales a sigh, still feeling tiny bit upset that he won’t be there to keep you company. “okay, fine… tell Darla that keep vegan options open for the cakes.”

“noted, honey.” you tell him as he continues to straighten your hair, “is everything okay with work?”

he nods, eyes too fixated on your long hair, not wanting to mess up a single strand. “just running over a few reports and fixing few minor defects on the techs and my suit…the last guy did quite a number on me.”

“hmm i love it when you speak science to me” you comment, watching him laugh a bit at your flirty remark. “but you still need to be careful. i do not want to see my future husband all bruised up when i walk down that aisle or else I’ll leave your ass.” your tone comes off demanding and firm, but it’s only because you care.

“yes ma’am” he replies, setting down the hot object down on the sink before slowly running his fingers through your hair. “there you go, baby” he moves your hair to the front, kissing your cheek and seeing you smile just makes him happy. knowing he’s done a great job.

turning around to face him, you stand on your toes to kiss his lips. “thank you, miggy… I’ll see you later, okay? we can go grab dinner outside and then movie night at 9?”

his heart warms at that and lips stretches into a large grin. “sounds like a plan.” then he lightly slaps your ass as you walk out of the door,

“let me know if there’s going to be bunch of assholes staring at you today, I’ll hunt them down and fucking kill them on the spot.” he mentions as if it’s nothing

and they say romance is dead.

-

cake testing with miggy!

[sakuravalelp]

The Dance Academy isn't a gang- DC X DP Prompt

Inspired by this prompt

Clockwork suggests to Danny, who's been the king of the infinite realms for 6 years now, that he should take sometime off in a mortal realm. He doesn't feel like going back to his own dimension (you choose the reason), so Clockwork suggest another dimension where he thinks Danny might have fun.

Danny investigates the dimension, and finds it is a dimension where some humans, who are called meta-humans, develop powers, mostly during their childhood. Danny knows how tiring and alienating it is to grow with powers that one have to hide. He wishes to give this kids a safe space to experiment with their powers, but not as a weapon, just as part of themself.

He chooses to create a dance academy, because dancing is something in which you use your body and express yourself. It would be an excellent way to encourage this kids to use their powers while enjoying themself. He decides to open the dance academy in Gotham, were it seems metas may feel more pressure to keep themself hidden. With his ability to see and feel the differences in soul it's easy to identify metas, so he starts scouting kids for the academy.

Of course convincing the kids that it's just a a dance academy that wants to create a save space for metas, instead is of a trafficking ring, is difficult. But once he gets the first couple kids in, slowly more come too.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Bruce is worried about the new possible meta gang that it's forming on Gotham, and sends Duke undercover.

It's hasn't been long since Duke joined the bats, and this is his first official undercover mission. He's excited at the start, feeling proud that he's been trusted with an independent job, but then he finds out that the "gang" it's just a dance academy. He's a little disappointed, thinking that this job is more of a probation thing than anything, since there isn't anything suspicious.

The bats tell him to stay in the dance academy, because maybe the dance thing is just a cover up and they'll reveal their real motives when he's actually accepted in the group. And Duke takes it as them wanting him to have a meta support system. See? He's learning to understand how the bats show love to each other!

Duke finds himself enjoying being in a dance group. It's a lot of fun. Danny it's fantastic, he has a lot of powers and isn't scare to show them. Which makes everyone in the group feel so much safer to use their own.

Danny encourages them to integrate their powers in their dance. It's freeing. Their powers are treated as a normal part of them, and not as this exotic ability that has to be controlled. It's such a safe space that all of them have gotten used to using their powers for day to day stuff when in the dance studio. It all feels so casual because no one bats an eye to it. There's no talk about how they should try to do things "normally," or limit their use of their power.

Danny: "Why would you? That's your normal, and this place is safe for you to just be you."

Duke realizes a bit late that the bats were actually suspicious of the group, and that his placement there wasn't really a probation. He's glad to know he was actually trusted with a job, but, he had really thought that every time they had asked about his day with the group was because they were interested in how he was doing. That they were showing love and interest in him in that evasive ways the bats did, and it kinda suck to know it wasn't the case. It also meant that he had to confront their family in their clear meta-discrimination.

"Would you have been so suspicious if it wasn't a meta group? No. Other than them all being metas there wasn't anything off. No proof of fights, no proof of robberies, no proof of trafficking, nothing.

There's no proof of anything other than a group of teens dancing, and you know that because you checked it out before sending me.

Like, I don't blame you for checking it, I'm not naive, but you were so sure it was a gang, just because they were metas. That's fucked up guys."

[gtgbabie0]

Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: {Aegon takes pleasure in his cups… and in between your thighs although it’s all the same to him}

!!-18//MDNI-!!

The hour of the bat was well and truly upon Kings Landing, the crescent moon resting against the abyss of the night sky as it casts down a silvery hue that bleeds throughout the Red Keep. With the absence of the sun, you found peace, resting on the velvety divan with a book in hand.

You were lost within the chapters as Aegon paces the length of your bedchambers before collapsing next to you on the divan, leaning up against cushions with a heavy sigh.

“They all belittle me… they all take me for a fool.” He huffs, pointing over to the door of your chambers, still complaining about today’s council meeting with a deep frown. You had already said your piece yet it seems Aegon was not done venting to you.

He looks up to you, opening his mouth to complain about how you ‘need to pay attention to him and not the book’ however the words fall short, dissolving on the tip of his tongue as he stares at you completely star-stuck.

His lips curl into a lopsided grin, the sight of you and the slightly sheer fabric of your nightslip that veils your body, how the fireplace bathes you in a warm orangey light, you had a beauty that captivated him wholly.

“Fuck them… fuck, all of them.” He declares suddenly, although deep down he doesn’t mean the words, not really, you can tell by the way his amethyst eyes flicker with hesitation, glancing down at his fidgeting hands.

“Aegon—” you start, but your words are quickly cut off by him, his rough palm resting against your cheek.

His gaze meets your own, shuffling closer to you, his lips curling downwards in a nonchalant manner. “No, I don’t need any of them, just you.” His words are hushed, only meant for your ears.

With a sigh your eyes soften in an understanding, for you know his only desire is to be admired or at the very least just simply liked. You close your book, leaning over him to place it on the wooden table.

“And you have me, no matter what the future holds.” You reaffirm his words, watching him closely as he lets out a shaky sigh which he tries his best to conceal.

There was an instability in Aegon’s life, save for you, his only constant in a world of ever-changing conditions. Perhaps that is why he clings to you the way he does, arms wrapped tightly around your soft waist with his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“I am not as malleable as they think… I will win, I will burn down anyone who goes against me.” He whispers against the curve of your jaw, confidence weighing against his tone. His hand slips in between the gap of your nightslip to caress your bare waist down to your hip, the cool metal of his wedding band sends a chill down your spine.

He needed a distraction, the pressure from the heavy crown he never asked for was too much for him to endure alone. He needed to not feel like such a disappointment for even just a small moment.

He kisses the small spot behind your ear, an invitation, to which your head instinctively tilts to the side, enticing him to leave open-mouthed kisses along your neck. His lips linger against your pulse point with a small grin, the sound of your pleasured sigh hitting his ears.

“Of course, I do not doubt you, you know that.” You whisper through a shaky voice, steeped in desire. Your body jolts, a soft gasp, at the feeling of his teeth nipping the sensitive skin on your throat before kissing the spot once then twice.

He hums in acknowledgement, pulling back to admire you. His palm still cupping your cheek with a certain hint of possessiveness, it shows in the way he thumbs at your bottom lip. “Hmm, you might be the only one who does, my pretty wife.” He whispers, all of his worries and troubles slowly ebbing away.

The atmosphere around the pair of you suddenly changes, the air becoming so thick that you’re sure it could snuff out the candles around you.

“Yours… all yours Aegon.” The words come out in one breath, tumbling past your parted lips as his fingertips graze along your lower abdomen, slipping through the coarse hair on your mound before dipping past your slick folds.

The rough pads of his finger slides along your slit to collect your wetness before finding your clit, rubbing slow circles against the sensitive bud, testing the waters, as you melt into the divan. Aegon chuckles against your shoulder, enjoying the way your thighs spread and your hips writhe with desperation for more.

He sinks down onto the floor, kneeling between your thighs, ready to pray at the altar of your body. He immediately pushes the silk fabric of your nightdress up past your thighs, letting it pool around your hips.

“I’ve been deprived of you for weeks…” he mutters, leaving marks against your hip-bones, sucking at the sensitive skin, before soothing them with a gentle kiss or two.

You watch his lilac eyes go dark with a carnal craving, the way his hands greedily feel up your thighs, squeezing the supple fat harshly, it all only elicits more gasps and moans from you.

He coos against the inside of your thigh, nudging one leg over his shoulder and propping the other up on the divan to spread out in front of him, the sight of your soaked cunt going straight to his hardening cock. “I’ll be gentle… so gentle.” He smirks, a lie, lips trailing over your inner thighs with all tongue and teeth as your hips buck upwards in anticipation.

He tuts, fingers digging into your hips to keep you still. All too suddenly he’s tugging you closer to him roughly, making you slouch against the cushions of the divan with a shocked gasp.

Your fingers bury within his white choppy hair, pulling him closer to your aching heat as his tongue trails along your cunt, flicking against your clit with a groan. He smirks into your soaked folds, the sound of your whiny moans, the way his name falls from your parted lips in a hunger only he could satisfy, it all makes his skin burn.

“Keep moaning… let me hear you.” He encourages, words muffled against your slickness, lips pressed to your clit, leaving open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive bud trying to elicit more sweet noises from your lips as he hums in delight.

A broken moan escapes you, your hips grinding upwards in tandem with his lips and tongue. “Oh, Aegon… more please.” You cry out, a woman possessed by pleasure.

It is the same possession that causes you to arch your back up from the divan to try and get closer to him. His fingers squeezing into your hips, a warning, his tongue lapping up your desire before teasing your entrance, practically drinking from you as if you were a chalice of Arbor Red.

Aegon flattens his tongue against your cunt, licking up to your clit once more with a muffled moan, sucking on it with delight. “Tastes so sweet…” The vibrations from his words only serve to add to the searing heat that begins to pool deep within your lower abdomen, leaving you a panting mess.

“Aegon, don’t stop… I’m so close.” your hands pull helplessly at his hair, drawing him impossibly closer. He chuckles at your wanton need, how you shamelessly grind yourself against his mouth without a care in the world.

He pushes his fingers inside of you with ease, humming in pleasure at the way your heat sucks in his digits. Aegon fucks you with them you at a tantalising pace whilst licking at your sensitive bud. You look down at him, your mouth agape, watching his head move against you so eagerly as you teeter along the line of release.

“Gods— Aegon!” You cry out his name with a broken moan, your slick walls clamping around his fingers as he continues to curl them deep inside you, still kissing greedily at your clit. He mumbles sweet, loving words of encouragement as he drinks up your orgasm. The wet sounds fill the silence of your bedchambers as you come down from your high with shaky breaths that come out in puffs.

He looks up at you with a cocky smirk, pride blooming through his chest, his lips and chin slick with your release. He pushes himself back onto the divan, leaning over you. “You are truly all I need, all I want.” He whispers feverishly, his fingers wrapping around your jaw to bring your lips to his own.

The taste of you against his lips is all you need to deepen the messy kiss, both of you melting into each other's warmth in a mixture of lust and love. He would take this as long as he could, until you were completely satiated. And even then, he would push for more. He was addicted to you.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

the anniversary. l Joel Miller

Summary:  he forgot about a very important date for you

Warnings:  +18, smut, angst, unprotected sex (don't do that), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), cum play, breeding kink or just talking about kids

 A/N:  somehow it came out the same way. I hope you like it. Thank you for every feedback, it means a lot to me.

The car quietly pulled into the driveway and after a moment the engine and the lights were turned off. He didn't get out right away, he just reached for the phone lying on the passenger seat and glanced at the last message Tommy had sent him.

He cursed quietly under his breath. This renovation had been causing them problems from the start and they wanted to finish it as soon as possible, but Joel's blood pressure rose every time he saw or heard that something would extend their work again. This time it was the same.

"Fuck." he hissed under his breath, resigned.

His gaze rolled over the quiet area immersed in sleep. It was already around midnight. Once again he had spent way too much time at work.

The car door slammed shut and his steps headed towards the door. The lights inside were dimmed, you had left them on just enough so he could safely move around the interior.

His gaze wandered to the couch in the living room, he was probably secretly hoping to see you there, but it was so late that he knew it was a foolish hope. You worked too, and you looked after the house and were there for Sarah while he was at work, which was... for too long lately.

His legs took him to the kitchen and the fridge, but when he opened the door he froze for a moment. There were several containers full of food on the shelves, and he definitely hadn't seen them there this morning. The cardboard box from your favourite cake shop looked completely untouched. And that bottle of champagne.

A cold shiver ran down his spine. Joel swallowed hard, feeling his throat tighten and a heavy stone sinking into his stomach.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

More pieces of the puzzle started fitting together in his head. Fresh flowers in the living room, candles standing on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

When his eyes stopped at the calendar hanging on the wall he knew he had fucked everything up.

His hand went to his hair and he ruffled it wondering how angry you could be at him. Joel would probably rather you were angry because the disappointment in your eyes would kill him.

He couldn't hide in the kitchen forever though so he headed upstairs. He glanced through the ajar door to Sarah's room. Her bed was empty. That's right, for a few days you both told him that she would be staying at a friend's.

Another stone fell into his stomach.

The bedroom you shared was dark, but a small lamp was on by the bed, your silhouette was outlined under the sheets. This view was one of his favorites. You were sleeping quietly breathing.

Joel took off his shoes and shirt, throwing it towards the laundry basket. He climbed onto the bed and gently kissed your shoulder, then once again until you purred quietly.

"J-Joel?" your voice was quiet and sleepy "Is something wrong? What time is it?"

"Late. Midnight or something." he replied, resting his arms on either side of you "Baby, I'm so fucking sorry..."

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands so he wouldn't see your embarrassment. You hoped that this conversation wouldn't happen, that you'd forget and go back to normal. But Joel didn't like unfinished business.

"I felt really stupid." you finally spoke up "For a moment I even wondered if I hadn't mixed up the dates. So I found the marriage certificate…"

"I messed everything up. I remembered that, at least at the beginning of the week."

"Yeah, I know. You worked a lot." your hand stroked his scratchy cheek "At least we have so much food that we don't have to cook tomorrow. And Sarah will be really happy about the cake I bought."

"That's not fair. You worked too, and then you came home, did all these things, and remembered our anniversary."

"Multitasking."

"I told you, you're better than Wonder Woman." you giggled, and that brought him relief "I'm so sorry, baby. I really am. I fucked it all up."

"You fucked up." You nodded, but your smile softened it "But we can still do something about it."

"Yeah?"

A sly smile appeared on his lips as your body settled beneath him. Your hands slid gently over his chest to his soft belly where your nails scratched it pleasantly.

He leaned down and his lips brushed yours, nibbling gently before his warm tongue slipped inside, caressing you pleasantly. A quiet groan escaped your throat.

You couldn't remember the last time Joel kissed you like that. The last few weeks had been quite hard, his late homecomings didn't make anything easier. In the evenings, you both fell into bed and before anything could happen, you fell asleep deeply.

Now, you had time and the house just for yourselves.

"Joel?" you murmured quietly as his lips moved to your neck. "Maybe you're tired, huh? I don't want you to be unconscious at work tomorrow."

A single movement of his hips and the large bulge hidden in his jeans rubbing against your thigh was a clear answer. He kissed your lips again and then sat up, removing the sheets from you.

"Oh, baby..." he sighed seeing that you were only wearing his shirt and panties "Even if I was on my deathbed I would ask for the opportunity to eat you out."

"God! Miller!" you laughed "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You won't understand." his large hands slid down your thighs squeezing them lightly "It's such a man thing."

His fingers reached for the hem of your panties and he slid them down without much trouble. He spread your thighs apart and you felt the heat flooding your neck. You were totally exposed to him, but Joel always made you feel totally sexy and desired even in a situation like this.

He settled himself between your thighs giving them a few kisses and squeezes. It was like a final countdown to what was about to happen. One, slow lick and the air left your lungs.

"So pretty." Joel mumbled and you bit your lip "I'm a lucky bastard."

You didn't have a chance to respond as his mouth closed over your heat. His tongue teased your button.

"Jesus!"

That was all that could escape your lips as you tried to catch your breath and control your body. Joel made sounds like he planned to eat you out completely and leave you barely alive. Unconsciously, your hips jerked trying to break free from the pleasure his mouth was giving you, but his hands held you tighter to the mattress.

"Stay." he mumbled "You're not going anywhere."

One of your hands tightened on the headboard of the bed and the other tangled in Joel's hair. You felt him slide his tongue into your heated pussy, in and out, his thumb making small circles on your clit. You felt his scratchy stubble on your thighs, his hands pressing you down to the mattress.

"I'm so close...so close..."

"I can feel it, baby. C'mon, let go."

His two thick fingers slid into you without a problem, finding the right spot. You clenched your thighs tighter, but that didn't stop him, his fingers moved faster and faster and after a moment, indescribable pleasure spread through your body.

"Oh my God!" you moaned "Fuck!"

Joel didn’t wait, freed himself from between your legs and unzipped his pants, freeing his hard cock. He gave it a few pumps, his hands were slick with your juices. But it was his eyes that were the most hypnotizing. Those beautiful, brown eyes turned almost black. You knew he wanted you so much.

Not a word was said. His cock touched your pussy and after a moment he easily slid into you, stretching your walls pleasantly. Joel lay on you, pinning you harder to the mattress with the weight of his body. His fingers slid into your hair and his lips crushed yours. You only had time to wrap your legs around his waist before he thrust in for the first time.

His cock pushed in harder and deeper. You wanted to catch your breath, but Joel's mouth was swallowing you and it wasn't until he buried his face in your hair, moaning loudly, that you managed to do it.

You loved it when he made such dirty sounds, but living with a teenager, he had to hold back. Now Joel gave you a real concert.

"You're so tight, baby. So fucking good for me." he moaned in your ear. "I missed that pussy so much. I want to fuck you all night long."

You couldn't answer. No grammatically correct sentence was able to form in your brain. Your pussy took over and the only thing that slipped out from between your lips was:

"Harder, Joel… Fuck me harder."

Joel got up and knelt on the mattress. He threw your legs over his shoulders and held them tight, then began to pound into you harder and harder. Every movement was precise and hit exactly where you needed him. His cock moved hard inside you and you felt yourself getting closer to the edge really fast.

"I'm close, baby!" he panted "Cum for me, I want to feel you."

"Joel..."

"C'mon, baby." His thumb found your clit again and rubbed it hard "Fuck, c'mon!"

Your body arched. You could feel your walls squeeze his cock, the muscles in your legs quivering, but Joel didn't slow down. A few more hard thrusts and he filled you to the brim, a groan of pleasure escaping his throat as he tilted his head back.

"Sweet Jesus..." he mumbled, lowering his arms and letting your legs fall onto the bed, "Fuck, I've missed this so much..."

His cock slid out of you, and some of his seed flowed out of you after it. He watched it for a moment, then his fingers lazily pushed it back in.

"You know..." he began as his eyes moved to your face, "We should start talking about this eventually."

"About what?" you asked.

Joel laid down next to you, sliding down his jeans and laying completely naked, still breathing deeply.

"About kids." he replied calmly, turning his head to face you, "I'm not getting any younger, and I'd really like to have a kid or two with you."

"A kid or two?" you laughed.

"Yeah, why not?" his eyes shone so beautifully when he spoke about it "I would like to see your belly grow full of our baby. You will be even more beautiful. Besides, you are a wonderful mother to Sarah, she adores you. Would you like that? Because if you are not ready, baby, we can wait with it. We still have time."

You stroked his cheek, smiling fondly at him.

"I think I am ready, sweetie. It would be a wonderful journey together, don't you think?"

"Definitely."

You moved closer to him and snuggled into his arms. You were happy and you didn’t want to give up this moment for anything in the world.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: You feel something while sitting on your boyfriend's lap, and you have the perfect idea on how to help him.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, virgin!reader, oral sex (m. receiving), spitting, praising, reader gives her first blowjob, not mentioned but implied age gap

10k Event Masterlist

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

The fact that you were inexperienced wasn’t an issue for Toji, in fact, he likes the fact that you didn’t really have many boyfriends. He likes to teach you how to do certain things– But he does hate certain things. He hates the fact that you would tease him without knowing so. 

Just randomly sitting on his lap, and kissing the most random spots makes Toji think the wildest possible thoughts. And he swears that sometimes you wear skimpy clothes just to tease him. But he knows you can be naïve, or maybe you’re just a little demon that loves to make Toji’s life impossible. Regardless, Toji doesn’t rush you to do anything that you don’t want to do.

Toji really does love you, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have stuck in a sexless relationship. Sex isn’t a necessity but it is nice. He’d never make a comment about it to you though since he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or put any unnecessary pressure on you. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible with him. But sometimes that comes at a great cost to him.

You sit on his lap, moving around to make yourself comfortable, and Toji bites down on his lip. You catch a glimpse of him, and he looks… Awkward. His elbow is on the end table that’s next to the couch, his chin resting on his hand while he looks away.

“Are you okay, baby?” You ask him, and Toji hums in response. You shift on his lap and you feel it, making your face grow hot. You take a moment to think of how to react, before wrapping your arms around his neck. “I want to help you.”

“Huh?” Toji raises his brow and asks, a bit taken back by what you just said. You stand up from his lap, grabbing his hand before attempting to pull him up from the couch. He stands up, asking, “What do you want to do?”

“I want to help you with your little problem.” You repeat, trying to lead him to his bedroom, and Toji hesitantly follows. 

“Are you sure… I mean… This isn’t what I had in mind for you.” Toji says, and he almost wants to slap himself for even thinking of turning you down. He’s suddenly become the most moral man on Earth, which he thought was impossible a couple of years ago.

“I’m sure.” You answer, forcing your boyfriend to sit down on the edge of his bed. You peck his lips and then his cheeks. Your lips go up to his ear, “It’s about time I give you a blowjob.”

“Just a blowjob, right?” Toji asks as you begin to pull down his sweatpants. It’s no surprise to you when you find him not wearing any underwear. Your eyes widen at the size of him though, and you’re wondering just how he’ll fit in your mouth.

“Yeah… Just a blowjob.” You answer as you get on your knees, your hand wrapping at the base of his cock. Toji watches you as you bite down your lip, unsure of how you want to start off. You've surely watched some videos, just to do this for him but your mind goes blank when you're in the moment.

“Spit on it, baby.” Toji tells you, making you roll your eyes as you bring your lips together. You do as he says, before your hand begins to stroke his cock. Your tongue licks the tip of his cock before it begins to circle around it. Toji really thought he would have to guide you through it, but it seems like you know what to do. At least for now.

Your mouth wraps around his cock, hollowing your cheeks before you begin to bob your head up and down on his cock. You take in as much as you can take, which isn’t a lot– It disappoints you, but Toji is over the moon. At least that’s what it seems when your eyes look up to find his head thrown back. Toji isn’t the type to really make any noise but he wants to know that you’re making him feel so good, “Your mouth feels so fucking good–”

Your jaw begins to get tired, so you lift your head, your tongue focusing on circling on the tip of his cock again. Toji looks down at you, and he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. He’s pictured this same exact scene so many different times, and he thought he’d never see the day.

“Your cock’s so big, baby.” You tell him, stroking his length. He grabs your head, and you slightly stand up for a moment to make it easier for him to kiss you. His tongue presses against yours, and when he pulls away, a string of saliva connects your lips, “I want to hear you moan for me, Toji.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Toji says, as you settle on your knees again. Your tongue licks from the base of his cock to the tip of his cock. Your mouth wraps around him again, while your hand begins to play with his balls. Your other hand strokes the part of his cock that your mouth isn’t wrapped around. 

“Ngh– Fucking love your mouth.” Toji begins to moan your name, doing just as you want him to. He wants to keep you happy so this happens again. He’s thinking of you in a different position though… It’s too selfish to voice. He doesn’t want to rush you in any way but he’s only imagining how nice and tight your pussy feels. “You’re doing such a good job. Shit.”

Toji gets louder by the second, biting down his lip to suppress his moans, his breathing slowly getting heavier. His hand grips the bed until his cock twitches in your mouth, his salty cum hitting the back of your throat. Most of it drips down your mouth and goes down to your chin.

You lift your head, and Toji’s thumb runs up your chin, gathering his cum before he swipes it on your bottom lip. He praises you, “You did such a good job, baby…”

He bends down to kiss your lips, getting some of his own cum on his mouth. It’s not the first time it happens. He smirks down at you before he tells you, “But you’re gonna have to learn to swallow.”