#virginity is a silly construct

[destinationtoast]

Casual friend who teaches theater: So we set the opening to a Peter Gabriel song, and -- Me, derailing the story: Which song? CFWTT: Uhh, not, like, a super well known song... Me: WHICH? CFWTT: Uhh. Did you know that he did the soundtrack for a movie called The Last Temptation of Christ? Me, inside my own head: Oh you mean just the soundtrack that caused me to start talking to my first ever significant other online, because we were both so obsessed with it, and that I therefore later attempted to lose my virginity to? tHAT SOUNDTRACK?? Me, externally: I'm aware

[urhoneycombwitch]

eddie x latebloomer, virgin reader (so not self-projecting...) who isn't innocent or typically what people say is "virginal" (because virginity is a construct!) but still gets super nervous about heavy petting/sex because they've never done it before and don't want to be bad or weird and literally just flees at the confrontation

until that ovulation hits and r! is trying so hard to ignore it, squirming on Eddie's couch/bed and he's like 🤨 you ok? and then it just comes out in a whole word vomit that he's super hot and they're absolutely soaked but don't know what to do and it probably won't be good and they should just go home and eddies like... no big deal, I'll just eat you out, no penetration 🤷🏻

and when they do actually have sex later, I know Eddie talks R through it

ty for suggesting this anon! u got me inspired here's a lil blurb. also dedicated to @wdsara48 who asked for more inexperienced!reader content 🫡

+18 mdni: Eddie’s a bit clueless about the hormone cycle, oral (r receiving), cumming in pants (guess who), ovulation horny (™)

____________

On second thought, it was probably a really bad call to visit your boyfriend when you were this horny.

Which sounds silly, you know it does- who wouldn't want to visit their hot boyfriend at a time like this?- but you've really been enjoying taking it slow this time around. Eddie is the first boy you've dated who has totally and completely earned your trust when it comes to sex- he's never once pressured you to take your heated make-out sessions any further, pulling back and unwinding himself from you with spit-slick lips every so often to gauge your comfort level.

Is this okay? How are you feeling? Wanna take a break?

So kind. So considerate. So far away, in the kitchen, humming to himself while he fixes dinner, hair loose and curling around the shoulders of his tight Metallica tee. Every time he reaches over to stir the pot of chili on the stove, the lean muscles in his upper back and biceps curl and flex.

Hormones are flushing hot through your body, the couch you’re seated on feeling more and more confining by the second; you cross your legs at the ankle in an attempt to stave off the fidgeting, but when this causes the thick denim of your zippered jeans to press into the ache between your legs you are quick to uncross them again.

There’s a low-toned buzz that’s taken up residence in your hearing, like all the raging horniness has no place else to go- which is why you don’t hear Eddie the first time he speaks.

He’s standing at the edge of the living room now, hands on hips, one dark brow raised in your direction- “Earth to angel. You with me?”

“Huh?” You swallow harshly against the dryness in your throat (contrasted with the excess wetness in other places) and shake your head, slipping your hands underneath your thighs to sit on them and ground yourself a bit. “Sorry, I was zoning out. What’d you say?”

“I said you seem antsy tonight,” Eddie repeats, moving in to sit next to you, close enough for your knees to touch. “Had too much coffee or somethin’? Y’know, you really shouldn’t drink that stuff after noon. Not good for ya.”

He’s teasing, all smooth movements with an easy grin as he snakes an arm around your shoulders.

The smoke-sweet smell of his cologne floods your senses- musky and heady and this underlayer of something earthy, wild, that you could swear hits on a primal nerve by the way it makes your clit throb.

When you stiffen under Eddie’s arm, he reads your signal as one of discomfort, tsking at himself underneath his breath before starting to pull away. “Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to make you-”

“No!” Your hand darts out to grab at his over your shoulder, keeping him from leaving, because if the warmth of his body pressed to your side stops you might actually die. “No, it’s not you. I promise. It’s me. I’m…”

Eddie watches you with mild concern as you flounder, mouth opening and shutting a few times before settling on just the truth- “I’m ovulating.”

He blinks. “Um. Shit. Do you need to go to the doctor? ‘Cuz the main office is definitely closed this time ‘a night but the ER is for sure open-”

You bend at the waist, pitching forward with a groan and cutting him off. With hot cheeks buried in your hands, your voice comes out muffled- “Didn’t you take sex ed, like, three times?”

“Sure did. Learned basic anatomy real well.” His palm has slid to your lower back, your shirt ridden up to expose a stripe of skin that his warm hand now rests on. “Help me out, princess. What’s goin’ on?”

With a pounding heart, you manage to sit up, looking down at your hands in your lap as you whisper, “Ovulation makes me, like, super horny.”

At first, you think he didn’t hear you, but after a beat of silence there’s a subtle shift in his posture, spine straightening.

“Oh.” Eddie’s hand on you doesn’t move but his other one smoothes down the line of his jean-clad thigh, clearing his throat before asking, “And do you wanna… do something about that?”

Mustering courage, you swivel slightly to look at him- the joking tone from earlier has drained out of his voice, and this is the shyest you’ve ever seen him: staring unseeing at his own lap, plucking at the knee of his jeans.

“Like what?” You ask, matching the same low tone he’s just used.

When Eddie looks back at you, that’s when you realize your mistake- his lack of eye contact wasn’t due to shyness. The way he’s looking at you now, dark chocolate eyes holding a steady gaze, it’s a wonder he’s been so restrained this whole time. 

“Could eat you out. Only if you wanted, though.”

You shiver. Visibly. 

A slow, half-tilted smile pulls at Eddie’s lips; he brings your free hand to his face and kisses your knuckles, then tugs you up with him to stand.

“C’mon. Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Cast in soft lamplight, Eddie closes the door to his room before cupping your face in his hands, cool rings against your cheeks. He kisses you gently, at first, plush lips notching in steady rhythm against yours; when you tug him in closer by his waist and slip your tongue between his teeth, he groans into your mouth.

He pulls away, wet click of your separating mouths loud in the quiet of the room before giving your hip a light tap. “Up on the bed, angel.”

You’re quick to comply, crawling backwards on the duvet, lust unfurling in your stomach as you rest half-propped on your elbows.

Eddie divests himself of his shirt in one fluid motion without taking his eyes from you. His pale skin gleams in the low light, silver chain and guitar pick necklace swinging as he moves to hover over you.

“You okay?” He asks, dark hair a curtain around both your faces as his bare torso presses against your clothed one. 

When you nod, he ducks to kiss you again before sliding a hand up your shirt. “Good. ‘Cuz I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You know he’s mostly joking- you and him have a safeword, and he’s always attentive to your body signals- but the pure desire that he’s kissing and touching you with is indicative of a boy who’s waited too long to be able to have you like this.

Eddie laps at your mouth, tongue twining with yours as his hand squeezes and molds the fat of your breast through your bra as both your nipples stiffen in response. When his knee slots between your thighs, you moan, hips jolting up to chase the friction.

“Can I…” you’re panting, forehead crushed to Eddie’s as you search for the words. “I want your mouth, on me- please.”

You’re rarely ever so communicative, usually hidden away behind a wall of reservations that are totally melted away now. Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched, sucks at a spot behind your ear that causes your hips to rock forward again, then says, “Yeah, sweetheart, yeah. You can have my mouth. Fuck.”

While he kisses down the slope of your neck, between your clothed breasts, your bare stomach where your shirt’s been rucked up, he’s muttering (to himself, to you, hard to say): “‘Course you can have my mouth. Have it wherever you want it. Christ. Should’a asked for it sooner. Give you anything you want.”

Eddie pops the button on your jeans and you lift your hips so he can pull them completely off your body; when he sees the wet patch of arousal darkening your baby blue underwear he chokes out another curse before working the fabric down your hips and tossing them to the ground.

“Gonna let me taste you, baby?” he asks, stretching his lower half out on the mattress and pulling your legs over his shoulders, his mouth inches from your soaked core. Eddie looks up at you, face bracketed by your thighs, pupils blown out with desire, waiting for your go-ahead.

“Please,” you murmur, stretching out a hand to pet at the crown of his head.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment with your touch; when he presses a kiss to the top of your cunt, your hand tightens in his hair, his resulting hum of encouragement vibrating against your clit.

Eddie flattens his tongue and licks a wide stripe up your folds, spreading the wetness from your leaking hole up to mouth sloppily at your clit; when he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your elbow supporting your half-propped frame gives out and you pitch back against the covers.

“There- ah- shit, there, Eddie…” you sound wrecked already, voice husked with the strain of holding back whines. Normally, you’d be so in your head about the exposing condition you’re in, but at this point you’re too wound up to care, Eddie’s tongue against the beating heart of you coaxing that tightness in your stomach closer and closer to snapping.

His nails bite in where his hands span the width of your thighs, holding you against his mouth even as your legs tremble and hips twist jerkily with each sweep of his tongue; Eddie gives one last suck to your clit then follows the line of your cunt down, down with his tongue to prod at your sodden entrance.

When his tongue slides into you with a wet squelch, obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet room, you both moan in tandem- your hand in his hair tightens to near-brutal, and the bed underneath you both tremors with the jolt of Eddie’s hips rutting into the mattress.

He sets a steady pace with his tongue, fucking it in and out of you as his nose nudges against your clit. That coil in your stomach is starting to make all your muscles tense up, your thighs locking Eddie in place (who seems to only be spurred on with each constriction of your body).

“Gonna come?” The lower half of his face is coated in your slick as he takes a brief pause to kiss at your inner thigh, one hand coming to rest on your tummy, pinning you down. “C’mon, baby. Let me see it.”

Your body obeys, tension snapping as his mouth returns to your cunt, a high whine of “Eddie Eddie Eddie” that you don’t bother to hide this time loosening from your throat as everything around you bursts and crashes into orgasm.

Toes curling against Eddie’s lower back, cunt spasming around his tongue, Eddie fucks you through it and then some, his own hips mindlessly grinding down as your release triggers his own, spilling warm into his boxers while your high spirals out.

When the spams of your pleasure turn over into aftershocks, Eddie comes up for air, pressing one last kiss to your overstimulated cunt before crawling up your body to lie on top with his head in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck,” you say aloud to the ceiling, breathless, arms automatically encircling the boy. “Holy shit.”

“I’ll say.” Eddie’s breath cools over the sticky patch he kissed into your skin, his mouth still wet with your release. He gathers enough energy to plant his elbows on either side of your head, looking down at you, suddenly serious. “So um… how often do you get ovi- ovel… like this? Once a year or somethin’?”

The laugh shakes out of your chest before you can stop it; you reach up to tuck Eddie’s curls behind his ears, your previous bashfulness having been tongue-fucked out of you.

“Eddie Munson, do I have news for you.”

[foone]

The rules are simple: Two wizards. Two pistols. No magic.

Now, don't misunderstand: "No magic" of course means "no magic now". The pistols are constructed using magic, of course. Wizards don't carry unenchanted firearms, that'd be silly. You don't spend years learning to bend all the rules of spacetime just to make a gun that shoots lead bullets using exploding powder. No magic just means you don't cast a shield spell while you're taking aim. But if you want to bring a gun you've designed to cast a shield itself when drawn? Go nuts.

So most wizards will have a dedicated dueling gun for these reasons. You want something that helps against the other wizard's enchantments, something that protects you from the effects of their bullets, and casts some protective magic on you. Shields, invisibility, illusions, healing... Your dueling pistol is usually a tricked out masterpiece of everything you know about magic and firearms.

Which is why this pistol in front of you is so worrying.

It's basically virgin. This is the product of a skilled gunsmith, not a wizard. There's no shields, no infinite ammunition, no enchantments on the bullets, which are mere lead and brass. There's some low level enchantments to strengthen the barrel from misfires, and the powder is enhanced to ensure it's always enough. That's the kind of magic you'd find on a pistol you buy from an average gun store, and it'd cost you only a few coins. This is the weapon of an unmagical security guard or a robber, not the dueling weapon of a world-class magician.

Veynor turned up his magic sense as far as he could without melting his eyes out of his head. Could it have an enchantment to hide other enchantments? No, unless they're being powered by half a city's worth of power. And even if they were, that much anti-magic would hide the low level enhancements on the barrel and the powder.

He asks if he can examine the bullets. "Bullet", says the nameless wizard, pulling out the empty magazine and showing it to Veynor. They pull back the slide and eject a single bullet, grabbing it in their other hand with practiced ease. They hand it over, and Veynor stares at it with the kind of intensity you only see when someone is looking not with their eyes. It's... Lead. Lead and powder and brass and a primer and the only magic here just makes sure the powder is sufficient to fire it. That's the kind of enchantment that you cast on a whole batch of bullets to ensure none will misfire, not the kind a wizard intricately carves into each bullet individually to give them a fighting chance in a magic battle.

Veynor hands back the bullet, and the nameless wizard loads it back in their pistol. It's a bluff, it has to be. They're trying to scare me, he thinks. Wizards know the inverse rule of subtlety and power. Your average wizard throwing fireballs and lightning is a student still in their first few years, while an old master will not need to do anything as flashy. They'll just wave a hand dismissively and your entire family line going back seven generations will retroactively be erased... So this has to be a trick. They know they're outclassed (Veynor has been at this for decades, after all), and are trying to psych him out. With a gun this cheap and unpowerful, they're betting that the more powerful wizard will call off the duel out of imagined danger.

Too bad. Veynor is not blinking at the bluff... "Let's do this".

They face away from each other, as if they could only see from their eyes. Veynor holds his pistol high, and the nameless wizard holsters it, their arrogance apparently extending to not needing to have it ready to fire. Another attempt at bluffing, as if Veynor could even call it off now. The rules are clear, and wizard rules aren't the kind you break without consequences.

They take their requisite ten paces, and Veynor flips around and takes aim, his pistol setting up shields and blurring his image as he takes aim at... Nothing? Where's the nameless wizard?! Did he flee? Veynor didn't feel any ripples from a teleport, he must have gone invisible. His gun continues casting spells on him, and he feels the enhanced vision kick in. The morning mist fades and the clouds in the distance come into view, but still no nameless wizard.

Veynor swears. The nameless wizard must have cheated. There's no way that gun could have done this. If it could, he would have seen the enchantment. Well, if they're cheating... He casts a review spell, rewinding time in his mind and watching the duel again. They face away, the take the steps. 1,2,3...

The cloud parts in the distance. There's a rumbling in the ground. Even with enhanced vision it's not obvious what happens. Veynor tries to dismiss the review magic but their magical control is going haywire. Something is very, very wrong. They start to feel like they're being pulled out to sea by an undertow, as the ambient mana field is suddenly becoming a raging river pulling past them.

In their vision, they see the nameless wizard stop at the end of their paces, and turn as they reach for their pistol. As the review ends, they see the holster glow with the colorless light of magic, as an enchantment activates. That's their trick, they placed magic on the holster! But what kind? And what's happening in the sky?

The clouds part to a black circle with a silver rim. The circle grows in size, seemingly, an Veynor casts a farsight spell now to see this from another angle. Casting his vision miles to the side, he sees the circle is a tube descending from the clouds at a shallow angle, pointed right at him... Oh sweet silent mother, that's the barrel of the pistol. It's now big enough to cross the inland sea, with a caliber better described in miles.

The sky goes dark as the barrel blots out the sun, the shadow stretching halfway to the way station at the edge of the wizarding wastes. With his senses stretched by the enchantments on his gun, he sees the events happening in slow motion. There's a click, and a hammer starts moving towards the back of the bullet.

Veynor tries to set up a teleport, an emergency one to anywhere, anyplace, any time but here. The flowing mana is making it difficult but he sees a destination: the abandoned fortress at the other end of the wastes. It'll be easier to get to than outside the wastes, and it'll give him time to set up another jump. The sky shatters as a sound starts coming his way.

With his slowed time sense, it'll be minutes before he can hear the gunshot, but already the shockwave is visible, even to the unaided eye. The bullet is supersonic, however, so no matter what happens he'll never hear that gunshot: either he teleports out of here or the bullet turns him and half the landscape into a fine paste.

He focuses his vision on the fortress, concentrating on finishing the teleport. The soundwave of the gunshot hits the fortress in his sight beyond sight, and it doesn't collapse, exactly, so much as cease being a structure and reverts back to a thousand small stones no longer sharing any association with each other.

With his destination destroyed, his teleport fizzles. The sky is still dark, but the mana flowing towards him has sped up to the point where he's having trouble staying upright, as his footing gets shakier and shakier. He looks up and sees the slug moving towards him at a bit more than the speed of sound, and he closes his eyes.

It doesn't help, his magical senses continue to show him the movement of objects around him, right up until the moment of impact.

The barrier around the wizard wastes goes white, and slowly fades back down through the colors until it returns to its normal semi-transparency.

The nameless wizard catches the hot brass in their right hand, before it hits the rapidly solidifying bedrock under their feet. The wizard wastes are self-healing (you'd be surprised how much even the average wizard duel destroys the landscape), but that's no reason to litter. They look at the deep crater they find themselves in, and start planning a route up the side. Most of it is still flowing, with the sand and rock intermixing in their white hot state, but there's spots here and there that are cooling quicker.

They could try a teleport, but it's a nice day for a bit of rock climbing. Besides, like they always say: half the trick of being a wizard is knowing when not to use magic. And right now the local mana field is a bit chaotic, having just gone through the equivalent of the Chicxulub impact.

They hike up their robes and begin to climb. Their feet may be heat proof, but they don't want to singe their robe again. It's a lot harder to enchant wool with heat protection spells, something to do with how the will of the former owner interferes. They make a note to do more research into the inherent magical abilities of sheep, once they climb out of this crater. Behind them, rocky ejecta finally crashes back into the crater. They wonder if the barrier has a roof, or if they just flung rocks onto the moons. They'll have to ask one of the lunar residents later, and make amends for any property damage.

They'll have to get lunch after this, all this climbing is working up an appetite. Maybe some mutton chops, since they were thinking about sheep? There's a good place on the bigger moon, they haven't been there in a while.

On the moon, there's a small impact, a puff of dust thrown up into the (lack of) air and slowly drifting back down. In the puddle-sized crater, a heavily enchanted pistol lies, still in perfect shape. The engraving on the side, readable in all languages, says "if found, return to Veynor". The dust lands on it, slowly burying it.

[allastoredeer]

Hello, don't mind me, I just need to vent for a second.

First off, I just wanna say, as an aroace person on the ace-spectrum, feel free to ship Alastor all you want. Ship him with anyone. Have fun with it. Sex repulsed. Non-sex repulsed. Grey-ace. Demisexual. Pure unadulterated smut. Whatever, have at it. I love that shit.

Just please do it without infantilizing ace-aro people.

The amount of art, fics, and takes I've come across that's so patronizing to Alastor and his sexuality. Thing's like Alastor venting to Rosie about his feelings for a character with the caption "Alastor feeling love for the first time." Or Alastor wanting to have sex with a character and having feelings about that, and someone commenting "That's called a boner, sweetheart. That means you like them 🤭"

Like??? Like do ya'll not see how patronizing that sounds? Being ace-aro doesn't mean you don't know your own body. It doesn't mean you don't understand the functions of your body.

It doesn't mean you've never experienced intense emotions. It doesn't mean you've never experienced love before.

And, look, I know these are meant to be jokes. I know. People are joking. I laughed at the first few I came across, too. It's not meant to be harmful or condescending; no one means it that way. But there's been so much with such...bad takes recently, and I don't know about any other ace-spec people (I don't speak for all ace-specs. Hell, there are probably other ace-spec's who don't mind, enjoy it, or are making content like it themselves. I just speak for myself) but GOD it's getting uncomfortable.

Alastor is in his late 30's-early 40's in human years. That is the established age range we have for him. Do you really think that he'd go that long without ever experiencing "love?" He went through puberty just like everyone else, do you think he doesn't understand his own body???

Being asexual, or sex-repulsed, or touch-repulsed doesn't mean you automatically don't explore these parts of yourself. It doesn't mean he's never, once in his life, touched his own dick, or pussy, or whatever genitalia you're giving him. He can still very well be a "virgin" (which in and of itself is a social construct) while also knowing his body and confidently handling any "sexual needs" he has.

Do you really think he doesn't know what a boner is? That in all the years he's been alive and dead (on Earth and in Hell), he wouldn't have experienced these things once? (And you know what? Maybe he hasn't! Perhaps there are ace's out there like that! But you're telling me he doesn't KNOW what that is??? Really???)

Ah, no, it's all because he just hasn't found the right person yet, right? It's not until Lucifer/Angel Dust/Vox, whoever found him, and they gave him these feelings, and oh no, poor Bambi is feeling twitterpated and horny for the first time, isn't that romantic!

Honestly, not really. It just sounds like the same, stupid shit ace-aro people hear from family, friends, and acquaintances about their sexuality. You know, the tried and true: "Oh, you just haven't found the right person yet. You'll want all that eventually, you'll see😊"

Do you not see how frustrating that is?

Look, I am all down for Alastor exploring parts of himself. I want him to navigate different relationships, feel them out, figure out what kind of relationship he wants and what he's okay and not okay with doing. But there are ways to do that without treating him like a little UwU silly baby boy who doesn't know his own body, or his own emotions, or his own relationships with other characters. Like he needs someone to teach him about himself.

How about instead, he finds someone he feels comfortable exploring these elements with? Instead of them "teaching" him how to fuck, or masturbate, or whatever the hell you want to call it, they're giving him the room and safe-space to explore it at his own pace??!!

It comes across as someone who isn't on the ace-spectrum "teaching" an ace-spec character about their own sexuality which puts such a gross taste in my mouth. Or, at least, that's how it comes across to me.

And the thing is, I know people aren't going to stop. I know they're going to keep infantilizing Alastor and his aro-ace identity, and I wasn't originally going to make this post, because you can't control what people do in fandom.

So this is mostly just a post to say: HEY! Hello! Ace-aro person here! I hope you all are having fun and I love that you're exploring Alastor's asexual/aromantic identity! Especially those who may not be in the ace-spectrum themselves, as you're learning about us and our experiences! That's awesome! Can we just do that while also treating Alastor like the adult he is? Can we do that without being infantilizing and patronizing about his sexual identity? Please?"

That's all I really wanted to say. I just needed to get this off my chest instead of letting it fester. This isn't an attack on anyone, this is just the perspective of an Alastor multi-shipper who loves exploring his relationships with other characters (sexually and non-sexually) and deep-diving into the dynamics of the show.

Thanks for reading.

[chiriwritesstuff]

The Girl in IT - 1. The Night Shift

A Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader AU

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Preview: "Well, it was a virus, and as I looked into the problem, I had to explore every avenue to ensure I pinpointed the issue, you know, for my report to Tess. I went into your history to see if it might have been a site that caused you to have the virus. I may have casually peeked into a few files to ensure they weren’t corrupted…” you admit, “…and I might have stumbled upon-" your eyebrows raise in embarrassment, "Something personal." “Something personal?” He questions, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t have anything personal… oh, shit.” His eyes widen as the realization dawns on him, hands covering his face as he groans in embarrassment. "Look, about my internet history... and the list-" You slowly nod and bite your lip, mostly to hide your own embarrassment. “… yeah. Um, it was quite... informative about your... sexual preferences.”

Chapter Warnings and Tags: No Outbreak! Joel Miller, Mentions of intended smut towards the reader, Boss x Employee Relationship, Virgin Reader, All of the yearning, Joel Miller is a silly flirt, A small-ish age gap, Joel is too forward for his own good, Tess is a boss (and should not be fucked with - or you get the horns).

Word Count: 5.6K

A/N: Well, hello there!

I honestly have no idea where this idea of a (somewhat crack) fic came from, but I had an idea and I ran with it! A lot of the character development came from my own anxieties of feeling behind in life, and if you feel that way too, I feel you! Don't worry, I promise it won't always feel like this. Time is just that- time, and it's never too late to follow your dreams! I believe in you!

To: IT@millerconstructiongroup.com

Fr: J.Miller@millerconstructiongroup.com

Subject: I think I have a Virus?

12:50 AM (10 min ago)

Hey Sugar,

I know it's late, but my computer fritzed out an hour ago (a shit ton of pop-ups) and I have that presentation with The H Hotel tomorrow morning. Well, do you think you could do me a solid and help me... not have any more of those darn pop-ups? I called the number that popped up asking if I needed assistance with the virus and they asked for my credit card information but they haven't replied back.

Shit, was that a scam? Fuck. I should call Amex.  

Anyway, do you think you can help me get out of this bind, Sugar? I'll be forever and eternally grateful. If you don't, well... I'm sure Tess will rip me a new one, and I would like to not have a Servopoulos-level meltdown at 9 in the morning. Not after last time. Sorry about having to be a part of that, Sugar. At least Maria was able to pay for your dry cleaning and get you a new shirt? You should have let me check your chest for burns, I sure as hell wouldn't want scalding hot coffee being thrown in my direction either. Shit. Not check your chest as in checking out your... breasts, just the burn site. Yeah. That's what I meant. 

(Also, sorry for emailing you last minute. Shit. I'm desperate, baby.)

Thanks,

Joel Miller 

Owner and CEO, Miller Construction Group

(512) 123-4567

To:J.Miller@millerconstructiongroup.com

Fr: IT@millerconstructiongroup.com 

Subject: RE: I think I have a Virus?

1 AM (0 seconds ago)

Good Evening Mr. Miller,

I got your request and will work on it shortly. I can't make any promises, but I will try to get you out of your "bind".  

Don't worry about that thing with Tess. She was rightfully upset, and I just so happened to be caught in the line of fire. If it had to be one of us, I am glad it was me being pelted with boiling hot coffee, and not you in front of your clients. You didn't have to have Maria buy me a blouse from Neiman Marcus, nothing a little tide-to-go can't fix, right? Also, I knew what you meant about my chest, and I didn't think you wanted to look at my... breasts. Let's not refer to any of my body parts moving forward.

Also, I am not completely comfortable with the terms of endearment that you continuously call me, Sir. Please refer to me by my actual name, these emails are monitored by Tess and I would not like to be scalded with hot coffee again for a little misunderstanding.  

Please let me know if you have any other pressing questions or concerns.

Goodnight!

IT Specialist 0926,

IT Department, Miller Construction Group

(512) 765-4321

"Ok Bubbles, let's see what mess Mr. Miller got himself into this time."

Settling by your coffee table, you access your remote portal and insert your portable SSD, initiating various programs to gain entry into your boss's laptop. Securing your hair in a messy top bun with a claw clip, you find yourself biting your bottom lip in concentration. Simultaneously, you switch on your TV, finding solace in the ambient noise that fills your dimly lit apartment—a space shared with Sir Bubbles, your British Shorthair companion since your college days. There's a marathon of Criminal Minds airing on TBS, Spencer Reid's adorable face on screen as he rattles off another theory for why the unsub was an abuse victim by his prostitute mother. You turn the volume down a bit, drowning out his voice.

It's near silent in the little shoebox you call home, the only decent place you were able to afford with your meager savings- after slaving away as a Geek Squad IT Specialist for the majority of your twenties at the Best Buy down the road from your parent's house. Despite graduating with your MIS at the University of Texas - Dallas, finding a decent job in your industry was brutal, and, honestly, quite embarrassing after receiving 30-plus rejection emails in a span of a year. Downtrodden and desperate for a job, you settled on working at Best Buy temporarily, but by the time you hit your mid-30s, it's been eight years working for barely minimum wage, and absolutely nothing to show for it. 

"Do you remember those sweet Miller boys who fixed our roof ten years ago?" your mother asks during a Sunday dinner six months ago, sliding a boat of gravy your way as you absentmindedly drizzle it over your mashed potatoes. "I ran into the older one... Joeseph? James? He owns his own company now with his brother, quite the feat, right? They're working on that hotel down the road... anyway, Josh-"

"Joel," you correct her, nudging the over-steamed carrots around your plate. "I think his name was Joel, Mama."

"Yes, Joel," your mother dismissively waves her hands. "Well, I told him about how you were on the job hunt, you know, with your master's and all. Oh, remember when you used to have that silly little crush on him? He's grown to be quite the looker, you know? Anyway, he told me that they were looking for someone to replace their old IT person—apparently, they retired—"

"Mom," you groan, "get to the point."

"Well," she grins conspiratorially, "he wants you to apply, baby. He remembers you and your little crush, and he said he could never forget someone as cute as you. If you're as good as I claimed you were, well... the job's practically yours!"

Your fork slips from your grasp, the metallic clang against porcelain causing Bubbles to leap in surprise, hissing at you in irritation. "Wait, what?" you blurt out, your eyes wide with a mix of shock and confusion.

Your mother beams at your reaction, seemingly pleased with the bombshell she just dropped. "I told him all about your IT skills and how you practically run the technology world from your bedroom. He seemed really interested, sweetie. And, well, it wouldn't hurt to at least consider it, right?"

You sit there, a swirl of thoughts and emotions whirling in your mind. The unexpected twist of Joel Miller, the older Miller boy you once had a crush on, remembering you and possibly offering you a job—it's surreal. Bubbles, having recovered from the earlier disturbance, casually resumes licking his paw, completely uninterested in the familial drama.

"I... I don't know, Mom," you stammer, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. "I mean, working for the Millers? It's a bit... complicated."

She leans in, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "Sweetheart, this could be a fantastic opportunity. And who knows, maybe that little crush of yours could turn into something more... professional, of course." She cuts into her meatloaf, humming in contentment as she chews. "Oh, and Sweetie? Wear the red sweater with your pleated skirt, with something other than those sneakers. You're turning thirty-six in September; you can at least do yourself a favor and start dressing your age for once! I'm sure Joel would appreciate it!" she winks at you as your father grunts in displeasure, rolling his eyes, muttering "meddler" under his breath.

"Mom, it was just a crush from a decade ago. Besides, mixing work and personal feelings is never a good idea."

She chuckles, reaching across the table to pat your hand. "Well, think about it, okay? Joel seemed genuinely interested in having you on the team. It's worth exploring, don't you think?"

A wink, a handshake, and six months later, you find yourself on-call indefinitely, catering to Mr. Miller's every technological whim and folly. It's not a bad job, you reason — getting paid triple what you made at Best Buy, monitoring everyone's browsing history in the office, and fielding the incessant IT requests Mr. Miller sends your way- which was often.  Way too often.

[My laptop won't turn on.]  Did you charge it? Try doing that first.

[Why does the volume not work on my Zoom calls?]  Did you make sure that you're not on mute or that your computer volume is up? Check that first.

[Since when did we put a parental blocker on the internet?]  It was per Tess, who said that employees should be working instead of looking up anti-feminist manifestos on Reddit. I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Miller. [Oh, well shit. Do you think you could unblock it for me? I am... having a hard time accessing my... bank account.] I mean- I could, but I would have to run it by Tess first. [Do you think you could... for me? It'll be our little secret, Sugar. Don't worry about Tess, I'll handle her.]  Sure, Mr. Miller... Right. Our little secret.  [Sugar, for the last time, it's Joel. Besides, I thought we were past having a silly little crush on me, you've grown into a... rather nice young woman. Please, call me Joel.]  Uh, sure Mr. Miller.

You are broken from your silent reverie by the unmistakable ding, ding, ding of the pop-ups Joel- Mr. Miller - you correct yourself, mentioned in his email. You scoff, biting into a piece of beef jerky. Typing in a command, the pop-ups halt, the black screen granting you developer access popping up as you run diagnostic after diagnostic trying to catch the little sucker - a virus, as Mr. Miller claimed - in the act of corrupting your poor boss' laptop once again.  There you are, you little shit, you mutter under your breath as you furiously type in more commands, eradicating Mr. Miller's bane of existence for good (or so you hope).

After running what felt like the tenth diagnostic of the night and downing three cups of coffee for the last three hours, the dawn of a new day streaks through the sheer curtains against your window. With bated breath, you restart Joel's system once more, closing your eyes until the familiar chime of Windows 11 booting up reaches your ears.

Please, please, please for fucks sake... no more pop-ups...

Joel's home screen pops up in an instant, the photo of him and his two girls smiling back at you as you breathe in a sigh of relief. "Fuck yes! Finally!" you silently exclaim, a drawn-out yawn and a deep stretch escaping your body as you settle your laptop on your couch. "Okay, let's just run a few programs and check a few documents to make sure they're not corrupted and then I can finally hit the sack..." you squint at the digital clock of your microwave, "and sleep for an hour before I have to get ready for work," you groan, eyeing the jar of Cafe Bustelo in the distance. Yep. No sleep for me, you think bitterly.  Another night, another one of Mr. Miller's computer meltdowns... 

Your eyes scan his desktop, opening up the PowerPoint file he needs for his presentation. It opens up with a slight lag, something you can optimize later but you breathe out another sigh of relief anyway. You check his internet browsing history, his late-night extensive porn viewing not a surprise to you anymore as you snort at the ridiculousness of it all.  At least it's not as bad and kinky as Tommy's browsing history, you tell yourself, because you'll never quite get used to all of the roleplay porn he watches religiously, you think. Closing out of Google Chrome, You scan his desktop for a random Word doc for you to open, not checking its title as you double-click on the first one that you see, slightly hidden by the Recycle Bin icon to the bottom right.  Wants? What kind of a file name is that?

The Word doc pops open, and it seems to be a running list of random things. You blearily scan the line items, your eyes widening in shock as you read on.  

Fuck her against my office door as I cover her mouth to muffle her screams.

Spoil her with a shopping spree at Neiman's with my Amex black card.

Fulfill my breeding fantasy by convincing her to get off of her Birth Control (do you think she's on one?)

Fuck her from behind against Tess' desk (serves her right)

You quickly exit out of the document, pushing your laptop away as if it were cursed. You look at the document title once more.  

Wants.

What the fuck was this? Who is he talking about? you ponder, the guilt of your negligence weighing on you like a weight tied to your ankles as you sink into the depths of the Atlantic. You shut your laptop for good measure, covering it up with your quilt as you shake your head in disbelief.  

What the fuck did I just read?

“Mr. Miller? Do you have a moment?”

You knock on the office door once more for good measure, standing timidly as you try to occupy yourself by smoothing out your dress - sensible, a decent length, work appropriate, you think to yourself. You try to not occupy the idle time of waiting for your boss, Joel Miller, one half of Miller Construction- and the thing you found while remote logging onto his computer last night - I think I have a virus, his email stated - only to stumble upon something rather telling and personal - but he was your boss, and you were a professional, and you weren’t going to think about the list… 

Kiss her in the rain.

Make love in my truck as she rides me. 

Bend her over my desk and take her from behind.

Marathon sex

Eat her out as she works at her desk.

No, Joel was unequivocally your boss—older than you by at least a decade (and maybe a few more years, give or take), and the document titled "Wants" was clearly personal, likely intended for someone else, and certainly not meant to be seen by anyone, especially not an overly curious IT specialist like you. No, you reckon that this list was meant for someone else in the office - someone beautiful, sexy, and confident— someone decidedly who isn't you. Certainly not for someone who dresses like she’s still in college, who only recently began living on her own in a shoebox of an apartment (if you can call it that) after living with her parents for the majority of her adult life, and who barely has her life together. It’s pathetic, being a woman of a certain age and with nothing to show for it, still painfully single, nothing substantial to your name, only getting your life together now while everyone around you has done everything right.  I feel so behind in life, you think to yourself.  Who would want someone so pathetic as me?

It’s not like it’s a crime to have wants, you think to yourself. Everyone has them, including you, you reason. So what if you just so happen to stumble upon your boss's deepest (and somewhat depraved) desires? Doesn’t everyone have a bucket list of their desires written somewhere? So what if your older, attractive boss with his Gen X tendencies has it typed out on his work computer? It’s not like he meant for you to open up the Word doc, right?

You knew he was single. You also knew that he had kids, at least two—Sarah, his eldest, was the head of HR, and Ellie, his adoptive younger daughter, an apprentice working under Tommy, the other half of Miller Construction—a serial flirt who asked you about your dating life in your interview a few months back. No, you didn’t think about your boss and the sheer mass of man that he was, that he smelled like cedar and sandalwood, that he winks when he tells you good morning as you pass him in the parking lot while stumbling out of your less-than-impressive shitty Corolla. You also didn’t take note that he drinks his coffee black with a sprinkle of sugar—the one in the brown packet—or that he eats in his office instead of the employee lounge because he’s a messy eater. The deep red blush trailing down his neck as Tommy scolded him about his lack of table manners during a company-mandated team-building day wasn't proof enough of that.

There wasn’t a ring on that tell-tale finger, not even a tan line, no photographs of another woman on his desk—besides his daughters, of course. Not that you were looking. Tommy had his wife Maria come down to the office often enough; wouldn’t Joel be the same with his own?

Miller Construction prided itself on being a family-run company, with Joel and Tommy at the helm and their best friend Tess as VP—more the boss than the actual Miller brothers. While Joel and Tommy preferred the hands-on work on-site, Tess ruled over the office with an iron fist. No one dared to cross her.

"You've got one job, and one job only," she declared during your office tour. "Make sure no one spends the majority of their shift watching porn, and keep Joel from messing up his computer with his boomer-isms. We can't afford to keep replacing a laptop every six months."

"Isn't he in Gen X?" you ask. "... at 56 years old, he's still considered to be in that generation, right?"

"Technically, yes," Tess replies with an exasperated sigh. "But you know what I mean. Sometimes it feels like Joel is stuck in a time warp with his 'boomer-isms.' Just keep things running smoothly here, alright?"

As the days pass, you notice an unusual trend in Joel's computer issues. It seems that every time his laptop malfunctions, it coincides with a spike in suspicious internet activity. It doesn't take a genius to connect the dots, and you can't help but shake your head at the irony of it all.

After a particularly eventful morning filled with more than the usual technical hiccups, you decide it's time to address the elephant in the room. You knock on Joel's office door, half-expecting him to be engrossed in some spreadsheet or construction plans.

It's not like you have to tell him about your snooping - he would be none the wiser judging by the way he was so technologically inept - you weren't about to tell him that the reason for the virus on the computer was because he was looking at some rather specific porn - boss fucks unsuspecting secretary from behind- his internet history had listed, nor did he probably think that his computer is being monitored, including his internet browsing history- company policy, as stated on the employee handbook that every employee of Miller Construction signs on the day of their official hiring- nor does he think that it sends reports to her at the end of the day.

You don't think about how the sudden uptick of his secretary porn viewing increased since a week after your hiring.  It's just a coincidence, right?

“Mr. Miller?” You call out once more. “It’s about your IT request last night? I have an update?”

“Yeah? Sorry! Come on in!” you hear from behind the door, accompanied by the frantic shuffle of papers and a silent curse. You take a deep breath as your hand turns the doorknob. Silently, you shut the door behind you, offering a small smile as you smooth out the skirt of your dress once more.

You fidget in place in front of the door as Joel—Mr. Miller—in his green flannel and dark jeans slung just right—it really should be criminal, looking this ruggedly handsome for someone his age, you think—as he ungraciously flops onto his desk chair, motioning for you to take the seat in front of him as he clears his throat nervously. “Take a seat.”

You situate yourself in front of him, refusing to meet his eyes as you fiddle with your hands on your lap, wondering why he, out of all people, would be nervous. It's not like he stumbled upon something so... intimate. You are a professional, and you were only doing your job, you tell yourself like a mantra, trying to ground yourself. What's the worst that could happen? It's not like he would fire you over your accidental snooping, right? You nod to yourself. “So…”

“So…” he replies, Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a drink of his coffee. “Thank you for taking a look at my computer last night.” He begins, smiling at you. “I know that it was late, and I’m willing to compensate your time by giving you time and a half…”

“Oh,” you nervously reply, shifting in your seat. “No, Mr. Miller—”

“Joel.”

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Please. We’re all family here. Call me Joel. Mr. Miller is my father for fuck's sake—”

“Right,” you chuckle. “Sure. Joel. Listen, you don’t need to compensate me for last night, let alone give me the overtime rate—”

“I emailed you at midnight; surely you were already busy, or I probably irritated your husband—”

“No.”

“No?” 

“No,” you mumble solemnly, “there’s no husband, just me and my cat-“

He barks at that, the laugh so loud it makes you jump in your seat. He gives you a look, almost as if he was relieved with that bit of information. “Well, disturbing your cat, then-“

"Oh," you reply casually, waving your hands in dismissal. "I'm sure Sir Bubbles didn't mind... and I don't sleep much, really—"

"Oh?" He straightens himself, his face serious. "Is it because of all of my requests? Shit. My girls give me such a hard time about not being with the times, I'm not really interested in technology— So no husband? Boyfriend, then?"

"Uh, no," you reply quickly, not eager to delve into the details of your lackluster love life. You clear your throat, adopting a professional demeanor. "Joel, as you're aware—or maybe not," you chuckle nervously, "I receive reports of all employee internet histories at the end of the day. Being the sole IT specialist on your payroll—perks of the job, outlined in my duties—I keep an eye out for any... irregularities."

"Irregularities?" he replies, his demeanor shifting into something resembling guilt. "What are you trying to get at?" he presses.

"Well, I monitor employee computer usage to make sure that they're not... distracted from their work," you reply. "Tess was explicit about not having any employees using company time for any unnecessary personal... dalliances."

Joel gives you a hard look. "Dalliances?"

"Yes, dalliances. Tess told me it was an issue before, with employees browsing social media and visiting questionable Reddit threads?"

"I don't follow," Joel replies. "You gotta spell it out for me, Sugar. What does that have to do with my request last night? I had a late night at the office, and after... checking my emails," he gulps, "I suddenly get bombarded with these pop-up things, so much that I just... unplugged my laptop... and, well-"

How is he so oblivious about this? You bite your cheek in frustration, not knowing how to get to the point without having to spell it out for him that you caught him browsing porn last night, secretary porn at that, and although it's highly inappropriate, you hardly think he was watching it because of Gladys, his actual secretary, who is old enough to be his mother.  Not unless he has some weird mommy kink...

Unable to endure the suspense any longer, you decide to rip the bandaid off as soon as possible. “I’m sorry!” You exclaim, “I didn't mean to look at your browsing history, I mean, I had to, but only because I had to find the reason why a virus got on your computer, but that is not the point! I had to open a file to make sure it wasn't corrupted, and I swear, I didn't mean to open it!"

“Open what, sweetheart?” he smiles at you, leaning forward towards you.  

"Well, it was a virus, and as I looked into the problem, I had to explore every avenue to ensure I pinpointed the issue, you know, for my report to Tess. I went into your history to see if it might have been a site that caused you to have the virus. I may have casually peeked into a few files to ensure they weren’t corrupted…” you admit, “…and I might have stumbled upon-" your eyebrows raise in embarrassment, "Something personal."

“Something personal?” He questions, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t have anything personal… oh, shit.” His eyes widen as the realization dawns on him, hands covering his face as he groans in embarrassment. "Look, about my internet history... and the list-"

You slowly nod and bite your lip, mostly to hide your own embarrassment. “… yeah. Um, it was quite... informative about your... sexual preferences.”

Joel visibly pales at your confession. He adjusts his collar, unbuttoning the second button as if he were being strangled by your scrutiny. “I just want to let you know", he starts, looking you in the eye with an unreadable expression. "I respect you as a woman, and Tommy, fuck, he wouldn’t let it go, with all that teasing about you being exactly my type and all, and well, your mother did remind me about your little crush on me back then-“ he rubs his hands through his hair as he rambles on, “… and I know that this looks bad, with you being my employee and all-“

“Wait, what?” You cut him off, a confused look on your face. “What do you mean? I mean, they're your personal preferences, and the list, well, I'm sure whoever you're writing about must be some woman, not that it's any of my business-”

“Fuck. You didn’t read all of it?”

“No!” You exclaim, practically jumping out of your seat. “I quickly closed it once I realized the nature of the document…”

“Well.” He stands up suddenly, pacing behind his desk. “I wrote that drunkenly one night after the company dinner, you know, the one when you wore that dress… do you remember?”

“Yes,” you reply breathily, “… the night where-“

You vividly recall that night. It was a dinner at the recently completed new hotel project. After a few glasses of wine and an impulsive, rather expensive purchase at Nordstrom.com a week prior, you endured most of the evening in an uncomfortably tight and overly revealing dress—a poor choice for a company party, for fucks sake. You believed Joel approached you at the end of the night out of sheer pity, not because—

“Well… after seeing you in that dress, and how stunning you looked in it, sitting by yourself, biting your lip in a way that makes me-“ he stops himself, giving you a small smile. “I was drunk, and I was thinking… I was contemplating how, if I were to have you, if you, by some miracle of fate… were interested, that I would do things right, you know? That if I had a second chance at… I would do it right. Treat you right.”

“You do know I’m not a secretary, let alone your secretary,” you roll your eyes. “I’m in IT… the only person in IT actually, and you’re not the first person I caught looking at questionable porn…”

Joel bristles at that. “Shit. Let me guess… Tommy?”

That gets a small smile out of you. “I can neither confirm nor deny, but… he’s partial towards a certain porn actress, and let’s just say he is really in love with women who looks like his wife.”

He smiles. "Shit, I thought I was being obvious enough, being that Tommy has teased me about it enough... I thought you knew. I know you work with computers, Sugar. I’m not completely senile, and I know Tess has been on a warpath about people getting their rocks off at work, I figured you would look at all of my… perusing.”

You're left stunned, your mind racing to process what Joel just revealed. It's not the revelation about his desires that leaves you speechless, but the unexpected admission of his feelings toward you. Your mind flashes back to the list, the desires that seemed so out of reach for someone like you. You never thought Joel would be harboring any feelings for you, let alone express them so openly.

"I... I had no idea," you stammer, still grappling with the revelation. "I thought that list was for someone else, someone... not me."

Joel walks around the desk, his eyes never leaving yours. "You thought wrong, sweetheart. I've been trying to drop hints, but I guess I've been subtler than I thought."

A myriad of emotions wash over you — confusion, surprise, and a hint of something you can't quite place. The professional boundary between boss and employee seems to blur, and you find yourself in uncharted territory.

"But," he continues, "I get it. I'm your boss, and this is complicated. I didn't want to put you in an awkward position. I should've been more direct."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Joel, it's not about being direct or indirect. This is just... unexpected. I never thought someone like you would... feel that way about someone like me."

He reaches out, gently lifting your chin so you meet his gaze. "Someone like me? What does that even mean, darlin'? You're intelligent and beautiful, and I've seen the way you handle your work. I've noticed you, and I can't help how I feel."

A mixture of vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes makes it hard to doubt his words. You start to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, your insecurities have clouded your perception.

"I don't want to pressure you, and I understand if you're not comfortable with this. I just needed you to know. The last thing I want is for things to be awkward at work," he says, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

You take a moment to absorb everything. Joel's revelation, your preconceptions, and the unexpected turn of events. The office, once a familiar space, now feels like uncharted territory.

"I need time to process this," you finally say. "It's a lot to take in, Joel. I never expected... any of this."

He nods understandingly, his hand dropping to his side. "Take all the time you need. I'll respect whatever decision you make. And hey, if you're not interested, we can go back to being boss and employee, like nothing happened."

You manage a small smile, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "I'll... let you know. Just give me some time, okay?"

"Of course," he says, moving back toward his desk. "And, for what it's worth, I meant every word on that list. Whether it's a rain kiss or making love in my truck, I want it all with you."

You nod, silently acknowledging his sincerity. As you leave his office, you can't help but wonder how a routine IT request led to such a revelation. The office dynamics have shifted, and you find yourself navigating uncharted waters, unsure of where this unexpected revelation will lead.

As you walk away from Joel's office, a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts consumes your mind. The revelation about Joel's feelings for you is a shock, but it's not the only thing echoing in your head. The list of desires he had penned down only magnifies your own insecurities. The voice in your mind grows louder, whispering that you're not the woman he deserves—too much of a mess, too behind in life, and certainly not beautiful enough for someone like him. The echoes of your perceived inadequacies replay like a broken record, drowning out the possibility that someone could genuinely see something valuable in you. You glance at your reflection in the office window, critiquing every imperfection, every perceived flaw. The dress that seemed sensible before now feels like a sad attempt to disguise what you believe is a lack of style or grace. The weight of self-doubt becomes an invisible burden, and you can't shake the feeling that you're not enough, that you may never be enough for someone like Joel.

As you grapple with your internal struggles, a small spark of defiance begins to flicker within you. Perhaps it's time to challenge those self-limiting beliefs, to be bolder than your insecurities allow. Joel's admission has opened a door you never expected, and you find yourself at a crossroads. Despite the echoes of doubt, a newfound courage whispers that maybe, just maybe, you can be more than what you perceive.

Embracing this sudden surge of determination, you make a decision. Instead of letting fear dictate your actions, you choose to confront the uncertainties head-on. Swallowing the apprehension that threatens to hold you back, you turn on your heel and head back to Joel's office. The faint thud of your own heartbeat echoes in your ears as you push open the door.

"Joel," you say, your voice steadier than you anticipated. "I've been thinking about what you said, and I need you to clarify something for me."

He looks up from his desk, curiosity etched across his features. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

You take a deep breath, suppressing the self-doubt that still lingers. "Is that list something you genuinely desire with me, or was it just a drunken fantasy?"

Joel's eyes lock onto yours, a mix of surprise and sincerity in his gaze. "Every word of it is something I want with you. Why?"

A daring smile plays on your lips as you respond, "Then let's not leave it as a list, Joel. Let's see how many of those desires we can turn into reality."

The room seems to hold its breath for a moment as Joel's expression shifts from surprise to a slow, understanding smile. The air thickens with anticipation, leaving the next steps uncertain but filled with the promise of something new and exhilarating. As you stand on the precipice of this unexpected journey, the uncharted waters of possibilities lie ahead, and you find yourself ready to take the plunge.

Taglist: @gwendibleywrites, @joeldjarin, @brittmb115

For more updates on all of my fics, please follow @chiriwritesstuffnotifs

All dividers by @saradika-graphics

[neowinestainedress]

wait for me | lee jeno

title: wait for me

pairing: lee jeno x fem!reader

genre: smut

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), facef*cking, praise kink, minor degradation (more like teasing), (consensual) filming for one scene, pet names (princess, baby/babe, honey, good girl, silly girl, etc), mentions of p*rn, loss of virginity (it’s a social construct but you get the point), soft dom!jeno, innocent!reader, romantic but rough at times, a bit of aftercare

summary: jeno keeps his promise of turning you into a mess under him

wc: 6.195k

a/n: I take my time with things, but if I promise something, I will do it, so here’s a gift for my precious @everloving-avenue ♡ it took almost a year but the sequel to this drabble is here! you don’t have to read the first part to understand. the style is a bit different from the drabble because I do write in a different way, so I don’t know how it will flow if you read one right after the other, but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway. I missed writing just good old smut with no plot. Same thing as the original drabble; I don’t think I’m the best when it comes to writing first times, so I hope this doesn’t suck completely. ps: missed writing about Jeno ♡

general taglist: @froggyforyoongi, @wingsss45, @tddyhyck | send an ask if you want to be added (i hope i didn't forget anyone cause i didn't use a tag, but from now on i will so i'll have everyone in the same place)

“Can you take it all, pretty girl?” Jeno never looked more intimidating than he does now, looking down at you while you’re on your knees, trying to keep your gaze locked in his and don’t divert it, too embarrassed and distracted by his big, hard dick standing so close to your face. 

You gulp, humming lowly and moving closer to the head of his cock, your lips brushing against it, making him laugh tenderly. 

“We can wait if you’re not ready,” he says, the husky tone of his voice sends shivers down your back, and even if he has been nothing but nice and respectful to you, your brain can only focus on the sexiness of it. 

“No, I...” you hesitate, lowering your head as you suddenly feel shy, “… I don’t know what to do.” Since you called him that night, you had been more daring, but Jeno always focused on you, and the bravest thing you’ve done to him was a handjob. This feels like such a big step, and you’re terrified you’ll let him down, no matter how much he has been reassuring you. 

A smile curls his lips, but it’s more of a grin as he bends over and lifts your chin up. “I’m here to teach you, am I right?” 

You feel your throat close for a moment as you bravely meet his eyes, you can see he’s holding back, and that makes a fire ignite in you. You’d even let him be rough with you — at least that’s what you saw while lurking on… those sites — but you don’t feel like pushing your luck. So you nod, swinging your ass on your heels as your knees rub against the carpet to move closer to him again. 

“Good girl,” he coos, kissing you quickly before standing up like before. “Open up,” Jeno orders, this time holding the base of his dick as he prods the tip against your lips. 

You do as he says, tongue coming out of your mouth as you try to remember what you saw in a few videos. 

Jeno smiles, teasing his length on it, watching as you try so hard to don’t look away. He thinks you’re really cute, really fucking cute, to be honest. There’s a bit of fear and a lot of eagerness in your eyes, and after months, he can’t hold back anymore. His free hand reaches for your cheek as he slowly starts pushing in, whispering to you to be careful to don’t bite and keep your mouth wide open, until he’s halfway in. 

You flinch, eyes squeezing as you feel the flow of air already dim in your lungs, hands immediately finding his thighs to hold onto something. 

Jeno snickers, pulling out and shaking his head. “Silly girl, you have to breathe, that’s like the most important part.” 

You feel like he’s testing the ground, being bolder in the way he talks to you during these moments, and you have no idea why, but you find it hotter than you imagined you ever would. Your thighs clench as you feel your pussy throb just at the way he had called you a silly girl. 

“Through your nose, darling. You got it?” Something about the way he’s so condescending makes you dizzy and answer him right away, eyes fluttering as you nod and part your lips again, this time not set for failure. 

He pushes into your mouth again, it’s slow and he grunts as he slides in, feeling your warm, wet mouth wrap around him. 

You gag on it when the tip reaches the back of your throat, but Jeno’s ready to calm you down. 

“Breathe deeply, babe,” he says, voice dropped by an octave as his thumb caresses the portion of your skin between your jaw and neck. “You’re being such a good girl for me.” 

Your toes curl at his words, and you feel a heavy weight being lifted from your back. Jeno feels it in the way your throat relaxes and how your cheeks suck him in. 

If only he didn’t wait so long, he would stay still for a bit more, but now that he has you like this, he can’t control himself. “Can you suck?” He asks, voice shaking. 

“I guess,” you mumble before pulling away to take a deep breath. “You want me to move on it?” 

“Yeah,” he hums. “I fear I won’t be so gentle if I do all the job.” 

You quirk a brow, tilting your head as you stare at him. “What do you mean?” 

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just remember what I said, breathe through your nose, and you’ll be fine.” 

You’re not happy with the way he dismissed your question, but you ignore it anyway, taking his cock in your mouth another time. You close your eyes to concentrate more and you start to suck, bobbing your head slowly at first, until you find a rhythm he seems to like, and it’s not too much for you. 

It feels weird, yet, every time you feel like you’re doing something wrong — like when the lewd sounds of your mouth get louder when it hits too deep, or when your nails sink in his thighs hard, or when spit drools from your chin — Jeno only moans louder and the hold of his hand in your hair tightens. 

“Good girl,” he praises, and when you open your eyes, you see his head reclined, lips parted and eyelids sitting on his beautiful cheeks. “Taking my dick so well.” 

Your body burns up at his word, a mix of feelings you can’t explain getting to your brain, but you keep trying to do your best to work on him. Until something pops in your mind. You pull away, mostly to take your breath, but your hand immediately reaches his base to pump up and down. 

Jeno doesn’t say anything, he even manages to muffle the groan of disappointment he let out when your lips left him. He knows you need breaks, but he still doesn’t quite expect what you do next. The combo mouth-hand was not on his bingo today and he can’t believe you’re doing it. It takes you a while to find a rhythm — he finds it adorable how uncoordinated you are — but when you do… fuck, when you do. 

You’re moving slower than Jeno would go crazy for, but he likes it anyway. You’re trying your best, brows knitted in concentration, mouth and hand working together, and soft moans vibrating around him. Just the view is enough to push him closer to the edge, especially when you seem to relax completely. 

“Stay focused,” he calls you out, fearing you might stop doing the most important thing again; breathe. “Don’t get too lost, princess.” 

You hum, voice muffling around his length hitting deep in your throat while you open your eyes to look at him. His jaw is tense, and he’s breathing deeply through his nose, the veins of his arms are so visible, propping on his skin as his hand is closed in a fist. He’s trying not to look down at you, you won’t know it, but you look too hot right now, and if only his eyes move down, he would start fucking your face. 

But you can’t take it. It’s your first time, and he has to be gentle. He can’t act like an animal without self-control, because he is not, right? 

Yet the more you softly moan, and gag and suck him, hollowing your cheeks while your hand shily works on the base and his balls, the harder it gets. 

When he practically growls, you pull back, terrified you did something wrong, unaware eyes looking into his. 

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I — I was careful with my teeth, I’m sure I wasn’t —” 

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he shuts you up with his thumb on your lips, now plumper and red with spit dripping from a corner down to your chin. “You did nothing wrong,” his breath is ragged and his pupils are dilated, his chest is heaving quickly while his hair is starting to wet around the crown of his forehead. “You’re being good, baby, too good.” 

You blink, confusingly staring at him. “Too good? How can I be too good?” 

Jeno sighs, caressing your cheeks, wetting them with the spit that stuck to his thumb. “You really have no idea how fucking hot you look right now, don’t you?” 

You purse your lips, shaking your head as you keep looking up. Feeling oh so small. 

A smirk paints his face. “Should I show you?” He asks, but you don’t get it until he grabs the phone from the nightstand and shakes it in his hand. 

“Oh, that,” you gasp, feeling your throat go dry. 

“Only if you want, of course,” he reassures, sensing your hesitation. 

“I — it’s fine. If it stays on your phone, it’s fine,” you say, feeling yourself get wetter at the thought of him taking a picture of you at such a moment. It’s also curiosity. Are you really that good? Do you look as pretty as the girls in those videos? You doubt that, even if they look like a mess they’re always so pretty, but you? Maybe Jeno is just being nice because it’s you. 

“Of course, princess. Trust me, I wouldn’t let anybody else see you like this.” And also, for all the times he is going to have you in that position, he would even delete it once you are done, if you prefer it. 

You nod, shifting in your place because you don’t know what to do, should you pose? Should you take it in your mouth again? But Jeno answers your questions when he grips your chin and forces your head up, you’re not as messed up as he wishes you were, but this will do. “Smile for me,” he says and you do, feeling awkward. You’d like to disappear if only you couldn’t see his cock throb in your peripherical view, he wants you so much. 

So, as soon as the phone moves away with praises coming out of his mouth, you lean in, taking it inside again. 

“Fuck,” Jeno curses, clutching the phone in his hand, struggling to show you the picture of you. “Let me fuck your face,” he pleads, words followed by ragged moans, “you can tap my thigh if it gets too much but — fuck — let me try.” 

You pull away, trying to follow him, but even if you are doing something to him, your brain is already lost in the pleasure, and the fact you have pretty much no idea what he’s talking about doesn’t help. “Like in the videos?” 

“I won’t be that harsh, I promise,” and even if pleasure is running in his body, you can hear the honesty in his voice. 

“O — okay, but…” you drift your gaze away, “can you film us? So I can see after?” 

A deep groan reverberates in his chest, followed by a low suck of air. He can’t believe this is real, that you are real. So innocent and pure, asking for such things. But he’s more than happy you are the one proposing stuff to him. “Yeah, fuck, yes.” 

You shouldn’t feel like this just hearing his voice and moan, but you do, and the way your panties are sticking to your pussy is getting unbearable, you can’t wait to have him down there, so you part your lips, and wait for him to take the invitation. 

Jeno doesn’t waste a second more, shoving himself down your throat, stopping to give you time to adjust to the rough intrusion of his girth before he starts moving his hips against your face. 

At first, it feels weird, you have no control, and the pace is faster than yours, but you try to remember what he said before; you focus on your breathing and the sweet sounds coming from his mouth. Mostly because the ones coming from yours are too dirty for you to bear with. 

“Fuck, babe, just like this,” he praises, one hand holding up the phone and the other caressing your cheek, trying to give you something soothing while he moves with force, it’s not too strong, surely not like one video you accidentally watched — and closed right away because it was way too much. This feels like a great compromise between your slower pace from before and the facefucking.

“My pretty baby, taking me so well,” Jeno moans, smiling at you when he sees a glint of a smile in your eyes. “You still don’t believe me, do you?” 

You try to answer him non-verbally, but the way he’s thrusting into you doesn’t give your head any room for movement. He tsks, shaking his head disappointedly. “Don’t believe me when I call you beautiful when we go out on dates, don’t believe me when I whisper it to you in the morning, and not even now? Do I really have to show you?” 

You feel like choking, but not on his dick. It’s because of his voice, his words, and the tone he’s using. Your breath falters more when he turns the phone to you, the video playing what you were doing just a few moments ago. You should think it’s weird, humiliating even, but you don’t. It’s turning you on even more, and you do look pretty like he says. 

“See how beautiful you are even like this?” His voice is heavy, reaching deep into your core, making your pussy clench around nothing and drool out more excitement. “Your glossy eyes, your pretty lips stretched open just for me. Do you believe me now, princess?” 

You nod, nails digging into his thigh because the video and him are deconcentrating you and you fail to do the most important thing; breathe. You gasp when he pulls out, a thread of spit connects your lips with the tip of his cock as you sputter, trying to catch your breath. 

“Are you okay?” He asks worriedly, throwing the phone on the bed and staring at you with a concerned look on your face. “You know you should stop before reaching your limit?” 

“I know,” you cry out, cleaning your chin before lifting your gaze at him. “I was doing fine, but I… I forgot how to breathe.” 

Jeno snickers, caressing your lips with his thumb, smearing the mess on your chin another time. “You forgot how to breathe, baby? Didn’t fuck you yet, and you’re already my dumb baby?” He’s clearly testing the waters another time, you discussed these things a lot, but Jeno knows that videos and stories on the internet are a completely different thing from reality and he’s not so confident everything you think turns you on will actually turn you on. But apparently dirty talking, a mix between a lot of praises and just a hint of degradation, turns you on for real. He watches your thighs clench and your boobs rise while a choked moan leaves your lips. 

He smiles, or better, grins, tapping your face with his cock. “Will you let me fuck your mouth until I come, silly girl? Should we see just how dumb you get on me?” 

You nod eagerly, moving even closer with your knees, sure by now you were going to have marks of that night tomorrow. But not even the discomfort can stop you from letting him have his way with you. 

You moan louder when he pushes inside you this time, hands reaching his thighs for support while he starts moving quickly in and out, groans falling copiously from his tongue, balls slapping against your chin, and strong grip on the side of your face. 

You can’t take it anymore and you start rubbing your thighs together, trying to get a tiny bit of relief as his moans progressively get lower, aggressive and messier. He always tries to hold back but you’re loving this side of him. 

“Where — fuck — where do you want me to come?” He asks, slowing down a bit, only now realizing you’re wearing your favourite tank top and he doesn’t want to ruin your clothes, but were you ready for the whole thing? “Shirt?” When you shake your head he tries to think of something else, but the only option is not much better. “Floor?” But you shake your head again, and there’s only one thing left, “mouth?” You nod, eyes beaming, and he loses it. “Fuck,” he groans, hips stilling against your face as the orgasm hits him, making him empty inside of you. He drags out to don’t make you choke on his cum and then pulls away, still shuddering and moaning, expecting you to spit, having decided to play with fire and surely regretting it, but you don’t. Your face is contorted in an expression he can’t read, but you swallow everything, and then look up at him with innocent eyes. 

“Was I good?” 

“Fuck, honey, yes,” he says, lifting you up by wrapping an arm around your waist, making you lay on the bed. “So good,” he praises. 

You smile but feel shy once again when he doesn’t start anything more. You’re aching, and you want him. Everything. His mouth and fingers are not enough anymore, you need him now. 

“Jeno,” you moan. “Please.” 

“Yeah?” he asks nonchalantly. 

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Oh, no, princess, I want to hear you. Use your big girl words,” he orders.

“I want you to fuck me,” you breathe out, barely holding eye contact with him. 

He smiles victoriously, feeling his dick harden again just from hearing your voice say those filthy words. “Are you sure?” He checks in, quirking a brow.  

You hum. “I’m dripping,” you whisper, feeling too conscious about the mess between your legs. “I’m ready.” 

Jeno tried to postpone this as much as he could, not because he didn’t want you, but because he wanted to wait for you and respect your time. He knows you tend to jump into things head first, but after a brief look at you, he knows this time isn’t the case. Since the daring call, you two experimented a lot, so this was the right moment to give you everything. 

“Stop me if anything makes you uncomfortable, alright?” 

You nod, silently watching as he adjusts between your legs, pulling down your stained panties before throwing them to the side. You don’t expect his lips to leave kisses on your thighs, quite frankly you feel more eager than usual to get what you wanted right away, but it’s clear he has other plans. 

You still shy away every time he’s between your legs, feeling too conscious about how intimate you two are being. And it makes you even more dizzy when Jeno breathes in deeply before sucking on your clit. 

“Jeno,” you cry out, covering your face with your hands. 

“What, baby? How many times do I have to tell you not to cover yourself?” He scolds, eyes staring at you from between your legs. “Move your hands away or I’ll leave.” 

You barely give him time to finish that your hands are sitting at the sides of your body, and your hips are bucking up, inviting him to take care of you. 

“Eager baby,” he whispers before spreading your thighs wider, sinking down to lick your wetness. “Taste so good, princess.” 

“It’s weird,” you mumble, you truly can’t get what he finds so hot about it, and how good you taste. 

Jeno clicks his tongue, groaning in disappointment. “You don’t have to taste it,” he says, giving another harsh suck to your clit that makes your thighs shudder, “it’s all for me, and I love it.” 

Your head rolls back when he starts moving his tongue on you as soon as he’s done with his words. He’s neat, like his usual, sucking and licking until he has you shaking underneath him. But usually — the four times you’ve done this before — you just lay there. This time your fingers find their way in his hair, tangling in it as you push him closer. 

“Fuck, babe,” he moans, voice muffled against your body. “I’m not going anywhere,” he giggles and the vibrations push your brain in a spiral while your head rolls back. 

You bite down a high-pitched moan when he pushes two fingers inside you after collecting your arousal and his spit. If you want to take him — and you do — he has to get you ready for the big thing —literally. So he sucks on your clit and pumps in and out of you faster, scissoring his two digits every now and then to stretch you out more. 

“So welcoming, angel,” he hums, pulling away from your clit with a loud pop, “do you want me that much?” You must be particularly turned on because his fingers slide into you with ease, more than the other times when it took him a while to get you accommodated to the intrusion. 

“Yeah, I…” your words die in your mouth as you stare at the ceiling, feeling so, so close to the high. It’s a feeling you know quite well now, but it still catches you by surprise every time. And you fear you will never get used to any of this, not anytime soon, at least. 

“You?” He coos. “You want my cock in you? Want to finally know what it feels like to be fucked nice and deep?” 

You want the mattress to eat you as he speaks those words, but your body reacts in a completely different way, burning up as your orgasm washes over you, leaving you breathless against the bed. 

Jeno pulls his fingers out of you, sucking them clean when he’s sure your watching. “Tastes so good, no matter what you say, baby.” 

You let out a shaky breath, feeling your body buzz in ecstasy. 

“Come here,” he says, leaning in, lips to lips, “taste yourself on me.” You kiss him with no hesitation, not because you’re eager to taste your cum, but because you want to feel him as close as you can. 

“Jeno, please,” you beg, cupping his face before pulling him into another kiss. “I need you.” 

“I know you do,” he says, softly caressing your side. “Can you take it, though?” 

You nod swiftly, hips desperately grinding against him, feeling his cock against your skin. “I’ll be good, I promise.” 

Jeno smiles softly, finding it so cute how you still worry about him when you should focus on yourself. He kisses you while his right hand is busy rummaging in the stand next to the bed to find lube. 

“But I’m wet,” you complain when you realize what he’s doing, feeling a bit guilty because maybe it’s still not enough. 

“Yes, you are,” he agrees, kissing your body as he slowly stands on his knees and positions you better on the bed. “But I’m big, and I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You purse your lips in a thin line, trying to don’t overthink this, but Jeno gets something is wrong. 

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of help. Also, lube can make things funnier, so why are you sulking?” 

“I’m not, I just — I want to be good like the girls you had be—” 

“No comparing, you are you, and I love you,” he stops you before you can finish, opening the bottle of lubricant but still waiting for your full consent. “Just trust me on this, alright?” 

“Yeah, I trust you,” you breathe out, voice shaking, and as you stare as he pours the cold liquid on his hard dick you realize this might be the smartest choice. Also, you have to remind yourself that porn is fake, and probably not even as funny as they make it out to be, so why would you want to ruin the fun with your boyfriend just to copy it?

“For anything, even if it’s just discomfort, stop me, alright?” 

You nod, feeling your nerves out of your skin, but Jeno wants you down on earth with him, and he needs to hear your voice. “Honey? What do you do if something’s wrong?” 

It takes you a while to realize he’s talking to you and even a bit more to answer. “I tell you,” you stutter, searching for his eyes because this is getting real and all your confidence is falling apart. 

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing you on the lips. 

When the tip of his cock presses against your entrance you know for sure using lube was the best idea he ever had in his entire life. Your jaw slacks, hands immediately reaching his back to sink in the skin of his shoulders as your chest rises heavily. 

“Honey, you’re too tense,” he says, pulling away. 

“No, I’m not,” you cry out, trying to push him in by locking your legs around his waist but he’s stronger than you and doesn’t let you do the dumbest thing you could ever do. 

“We don’t have to do it, you know right?” 

“But I want to,” you whine. “It’s just… big.” 

“Then we can wait.” 

“No, just… ease the tip in and then sink slowly,” you breathe out. 

“But you need to relax,” he says. “Let me do something.” It’s not what you expect him to do, but when his lips start leaving soft pecks on your skin, you can only relax under his attention. “That’s it, princess, loosen up,” he whispers against your neck, trailing down to kiss your chest, noting you’re still dressed in your camisole and he has to move it to have access to your skin. “Can I lift this off? Want to feel you close to me.” 

You hum, nodding your head in small movements as you try to relax your muscles. He quickly takes it off of you before going back to your skin, kissing and sucking, until goosebumps pervade you, distracting you while the fat head of his cock presses against your slit and you barely even notice.  

Jeno hums when he quickly glances up and you’re too lost in pleasure to tighten up around him, but he doesn’t push further in. “Good girl. Here,” he says, searching for your hand on the mattress, “hold my hand.” 

You do as he says, parting your legs when you realize he’s back where he was before, barely inside. “More, please,” you implore, meeting his eyes that turn into half-moons for a brief moment as he smiles back at you. 

He doesn’t ask more questions, afraid of tensing you up again, and pushes past your entrance. 

“Mhh,” you bite back, forcefully trapping your lower lips between your teeth to don’t let out weird sounds. 

Jeno stares at you, trying to study your body as he keeps moving, soothing circles on your waist. He’s barely halfway in and he’s not sure about what to do. 

“It’s… it’s weird,” you mumble, feeling shy when you two make eye contact. 

“Bad weird or good weird?” 

You shrug. “I don’t know, it’s not bad, it doesn’t hurt,” you reassure him. “You can push in, I’m relaxed.” 

You are, your shoulders are not tensed and your legs are parted on your own, your breath is also much more regular than before. So he does, he slowly buttons in, taking your breath away. 

You gasp, head rolling back as you feel full like never before. 

Jeno wants to back away when you start… laughing. “Are you okay?” 

You nod swiftly, “Yeah,” you smile. “It’s… I… I don’t know how to explain this,” you try to reason but truly there’s nothing rational about this. It’s the surprise because you can’t believe it happened and it’s the way it feels as your pussy automatically clenches around him. “I think you can fuck me,” you say, feeling the shame disappear. 

“I can take more time for you to adj—”

“I’m dripping and I’m ready for you, it doesn’t hurt,” you say, cupping his chin. “I’ve panicked about this moment enough, I know what I’m letting you doing.” You truly did, reading around way too much about what the first time felt like, knowing it wasn’t supposed to hurt or bleed like society said, and trusting him enough to do this. 

Jeno fights a chuckle to don’t ruin this completely and starts moving in and out of you. Studying your face with every move, his thrusts are slow at first, not only because he doesn’t want to push you too far, but also because he wants to see your reaction and feel you. Your eyes are closed while your lips are parted to let out the softest whimpers and moans, one hand is still holding his tight while the other is on his shoulder to hold onto him. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, kissing you passionately, starting to pick up a rhythm when you don’t squirm away but your hips roll against his instead. “How does it feel?” 

“Good,” you cry out, “so good.” 

“Yeah? Told you it would feel good,” he groans, hips dragging in and out of you at a steady rhythm. He’d love to go faster, but he doesn’t want to hurt you or turn this into a bad experience. He wants to take it slow, and make you feel loved. “Better than those stupid videos you watch. You don’t need them to learn, they’re bullshit anyway, you have me.”

You groan, trying to hide away as you remember how he had caught you more than once as you tried to learn how to get better at this, no matter how many times he had told you he was there to guide you. “I will — I will disappoint you,” you cry out. 

“Yeah, are you sure?” He hums, kissing you briefly, hitting harder inside you, making you whimper a broken moan. “Then if you’re so afraid you’ll — fuck — disappoint me, it means I’ll have to fuck you more, ugh, how’s that sound?” 

You try to come up with words that make sense, but you hardly can breathe. It feels too much, lost in what’s happening now, and what is yet to happen. The idea he won’t hold back anymore, that at any chance he will try to make you feel good, and you will do too, sending your brain in a spiral. 

“Oh, imagining it already, nasty baby? One taste and you’re already addicted to this?” Jeno mocks playfully, cooing in your ear, sending waves of electricity down your spine. “Next time I won’t fuck you nice and slow on the bed, no,” he chuckles, brushing away the hair that is sticking to your sweating forehead. “I’ll get a bit rougher with you, do you want that?” 

You barely wait for him to finish the sentence and you’re already nodding, gripping harder on his shoulders, nails sinking in his skin, as you already savour the moment. “On the desk,” you utter shyly, slowly parting your eyes to meet his, dark and intense, piercing into your soul. 

He snickers, dick throbbing inside of you because he can’t wait to slowly discover all the little things you secretly fantasize about, he wants to watch your innocence fall apart right in front of his eyes, and he wants to be the one tearing it apart. He wants you to trust him enough to let him inside all your darkest and deepest secrets. 

“You want to be fucked on the desk?” He taunts, lightly slapping your ass, drawing a louder moan from you. “Yeah? Want to be bent over my desk?” 

You nod swiftly, trapping your tongue between your teeth as the intense feeling starts growing more and more in your stomach. “Wa-want you to pull my hair.” You’re not even sure you will like it, but you feel like everything is worth a shot with Jeno, you trust him, and you know he will respect you if you won’t like something. Even harsher things that scare you a bit, they don’t look so scary with him. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, rolling his head back, beads of sweat pearling his forehead. “You’ll kill me,” he whispers, teeth gritted as he tries to don’t sound too raw with his moans, but it’s hard when your pussy is gripping him so tight, your face is rolled back in bliss, your boobs are bouncing with his every move, and dirty words are coming out of your mouth. He’s not used to this and your curses, it’s used to your avoiding gazes and your small imprecations that are not curse words. 

You’re not used to this either. It’s like you opened the door to a new world and you don’t quite know how to move in it. There are endless possibilities, and you’d love to grasp them all now, but you can’t. You fear you can barely face what’s coming right now. 

“Weird,” you breathe out, chest heaving quicker as Jeno’s thrusts get faster and the hold of your legs around his waist tightens. “Too much.” 

“It’s not too much, princess. You can take it,” he says, kissing your cheeks. 

“No, it’s — it’s,” you choke on your words ‘cause you can’t quite explain how you’re feeling right now. 

Jeno kisses your lips again, it’s messier than before, and in the tangle of it, he asks if you want him to stop, but you don’t, and you almost scream a negative answer. “Please, no, don’t stop. I just — I feel like — I…” 

“It’s stronger than the other times?” He finishes for you, at least that’s what he can get from the way your body is squirming under him and how much cum is coating his dick. 

You nod, squeezing your eyes hard and opening your mouth to let as much air possible inside of your lungs. “It’s good, it’s so good, but I… I can’t take it.”

“You can, honey, you can,” he whispers, soothing you with circles on your hip. “Breathe deeply, like before.” 

You’d love to curse at him because how can you focus on your breathing during this specific moment? It’s impossible, and you don’t even want to. You like the way you feel upside down, it’s chaotic but good, and you don’t want it to stop. 

You pull him closer, kissing him harder, running your fingers through his hair to stop torturing his poor shoulders. “Want you, please.” 

“I’m here,” he hums. “Come with me?” 

You nod in a non-verbal reply, trying to don’t get overwhelmed by the feeling but it’s difficult, especially when his hand reaches for your clit and starts playing with it, and his moans get louder and messier. He sounds so hot, and that’s the last thing you need to let your pleasure invade you. 

“Jeno,” you scream his name, arching your back off the bed as pleasure runs through your body and soon after the same happens to him, filling you with his cum as he lazily pumps in and out to ride your orgasms. 

“Fuck,” he curses, letting his forehead fall on yours, pushing your legs closer to your chest before his movements come to a stop, and he feels like collapsing on top of you. He doesn’t, he keeps his body up with his elbows as he leaves pecks on your face. 

“Are you alright, love?” Jeno asks after a few seconds and you can only nod, still short of breath. He leaves one more kiss on your lips before pulling out of you, making you sigh at the loss of contact when he rolls to the side and jumps out of bed. “Stay right there,” he says before walking out of the room. 

“As if I can walk,” you giggle in a whisper, feeling your legs wobbly and your heart exploding out of your ribcage. You’re still lost in that daydream when Jeno comes up and starts to clean you up, doing his best to don’t overstimulate you — he’s got time for that.

You don’t say anything, only stare at him while his black hair falls on his forehead and you can’t believe you got so lucky. Once he’s done, he comes by your side, pulling close to his body and leaving kisses on your face. The one that breaks the silence again it’s him. 

“So, how was that? Good as you expected or did it let you down?” 

You giggle, moving your head so you can meet his eyes. “You really think this could’ve let me down?” 

“Well, I don’t know, I thought you were pretty vanilla and there you were, begging me to bend you over and pull your hair,” he chuckles, caressing your cheek. “Maybe your fantasies were different than this.” 

“It was amazing,” you smile, fighting the embarrassment caused by his words as you look at him. “Thank you for waiting for me.” 

Jeno smiles, eyes lighting up before his lips fall on your forehead again. “I would wait for you forever.” 

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

[lilystyles]

bloom.

part four of the no strings attached series by @lilystyles

no strings attached masterlist & main masterlist xxx

authors note part four is hereeeeeee!! IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE THIS. i was drowning in assignments these past few months which is why it has taken me so long. i am now on my winter break yay, so i should be able to update more regularly thanks for the patience and love XXXX

brief description y/n and harry go to dinner and something stronger blooms between them.

warnings! smut (f!receiving, blowjob, sex, cumplay, loss of virginity but is all very romantic) unprotected sex (pls wear a condom), swearing, alcohol abuse, overall just a mature read. around 11.6k words. (she's longggg omg)

inexperinced!virgin!reader x fwb!harry

* * * * *

Harry and Y/n had managed to keep their new ‘relationship’ a secret for a little over a month which Y/n was very proud of, normally she couldn’t lie to save her life. He’d come over most weekends or she’d go to his and they would eat food, sometimes they’d cook sometimes they’d go out, they would watch films, sometimes at home sometimes in the cinema. But by the end of the night after a few wines and with an old soul record playing in the background they’d pleasure each other. 

It was simply perfect. Whatever, wherever they were at was the happiest they had ever been. Except maybe the few Christmases they’d had together as roommates.

Y/n had never thought she could enjoy someone else’s company this much. Within time she grew the most comfortable she ever had been with someone. He’d seen her naked, he’d seen her cry, he’d seen her bleed, and he knew all of her secrets. She felt so free around him. It was a wonderful feeling, she only wished she could tell her other friends about it and how great it was. How happy she was, how happy he made her. This free feeling? Did they have that too? Is that why they’d always encouraged her to get a boyfriend and put herself out there?

But she knew it was just easier this way — their own little bubble. Keeping it their little secret. Sometimes things went to shit once they were said out loud. She’d noticed that and was worried if she shared it with them he would disappear.

They still hadn’t had sex yet, Harry wanted to wait for the right moment for that. He knew that virginity was a silly construct but he still wanted her first time having sex to be something she wouldn’t regret. He couldn’t live with himself if he ruined that for her. He didn’t want it to feel forced and corny and like it was this dramatic live changing event but he didn’t want it to be in the back of a car in a dark car park either. He wanted it to be a nice moment. She’d been ready for weeks, since that first night even. But when Harry told her waiting was the right thing to do she listened and was grateful for his delicate handling of the situation. He was more experienced so she listened.

She trusted him.

When Harry got a text from James that day that the guys all wanted to go on a camping trip for a long weekend in the middle of spring, he called her immediately. 

After a few rings, she answered. “Hi, Haz!” She sounded breathless but chirpy.

“Hey, Lovie.” He could hear clatter in the background. She must’ve been up to something. A loud bang echoed in his ear.“What are you doing, Cheeky?” He said in a playful tone.

She giggled. “I’m attempting to perfect a cookie recipe. I had a bit of an anxious day, so I needed a distraction.”

“Why didn’t you just call me? I’m happy to distract you.” He said softly, grabbing a jumper from his cupboard. He was about to ask if he could come over, not that he needed to at this point.

She wondered for a moment if he meant that in a sexual way or not. Because everything had begun to blur. Sure most of the time when she saw Harry they’d pleasure each other, but sometimes he just held her warmly in his arms. Sometimes they did nothing at all. What did it all mean? Sometimes he felt like a boyfriend, most of the time actually.

“I’m sure you have a life outside of being my distraction.” She said stubbornly, mixing the batter in the large bowl. Her arm was aching. The smell of spices and ginger filled her nose, her biggest struggle when baking was usually not eating all the batter.

“Not really. So, can I come over?”

She giggled again, softly. “Of course. See you in 20.”

“Getting in the car as we speak.”

“Drive safely please.”

He smiled. “Always, Bun.”

When he arrived at her apartment he barely had to knock before she had already opened the door. 

“Hi, H!” She chirped.

“Hi, Petal.”

She opened the door wide for him. “Come in.” She was in a pair of boxers he had left behind a few nights ago they were dark blue and a tight old One Direction shirt. She’d supported them in the early stages of their career, that shirt was from way back when. She was covered in flour and other cooking ingredients, looking as adorable as ever. Wearing those ridiculous bunny slippers of hers.

He shut the door behind him following her to the kitchen where something good was cooking. She was making another batch of her cookies (she was famous for them).

“I thought you could give these to Gem and Anne when you see them, you said they were coming down last time you were ‘round. Of course, you don’t have to. But I miss them, and they used to like my cookies.” She said shyly, suddenly feeling embarrassed. He never took his eyes off her.

He grinned stepping closer to her with his arms wide. “You are the cutest.”

She blushed. 

“You should come to dinner.” He pulled her into his chest, chin resting on her head. Smelling the scent of her delicious shampoo as he squeezed the plump flesh of her arms and shoulders.

She looked up, arms still wrapped around his hips, “That isn’t very friends with benefits of us though, is it?” Tucking her head into his chest, he smelt so good today. Like every day. The woodsy fresh bodywash he used was still very strong on his skin and his hair was extra fluffy. He must have showered this morning.

“I’d have asked you, either way, Love. Y’know Mum adores you. Gem too.”

She looked up. “Okay….When is it?”

“Tonight, that’s sort of why I wanted to come over. And, did you see the text James sent?”

She shook her head and walked over to the living room and found her phone buried underneath the dozens of blankets. She now saw the chat flooded with texts. 

JAMES

Hi guys! Is everyone free next weekend for the long weekend? Me and Daisy have planned a lil getaway at the beach. We would love to go all together like the old times. Bring a tent and gear. X

DAISY

 and bring your party pants!!

OLIVE

I’m so there. :))

FINNLEY

I’ll check, I’ve got exams coming up. 

But fingers crossed.

PENNY

i am definitely coming !!!

MICHAEL

Yes bet bet. Sounds like a plan

JAMES

Harry? Y/n? U two in?

She looked up. “Sounds nice, a lil’ getaway.” She liked the idea of doing nothing with Harry by the beach and amongst nature.

“I’ll go if you go.”

That made her smile and she looked down before typing.

me and harry shall be there xxx

After that, Harry managed to get roped into helping finish the cookie decorating before Y/n rushed off to get ready for dinner. Harry had booked a swanky restaurant, so Y/n felt like she had to dress up just a bit more than their usual dinners.

Once she was out of the shower, she stared annoyedly in her towel at her options. 

She remembered when Harry used to come home from touring and Anne would throw these big but intimate dinner parties and invite all his family and friends. Y/n could just wear jeans to that and they’d all bundle up around a bonfire after dinner and look at the stars. Harry and her would share a wine or two and it was simple. Harry loved how normal he felt with Y/n, even the memory of her was enough to ground him. He was glad she was back in his life, and he felt now he was ready for it and ready for her.

Harry came down the hall to her room and sat down on her bed grabbing one of her teddy bears and cuddling it in his big arms. The sight was rather funny, this big tattooed man and a little pink teddy bear cuddled up in pretty feminine soft-looking bedsheets. “I’ve got to change and pick some gifts up from back home before we go, is that okay?” He asked watching her dig through her clothes.

She nodded. “Of course! But what should I wear? What do you think?”

She was oddly nervous about tonight even though every Christmas when she went home to Holmes Chapel she went over to Harry’s Mums house for a drink and sometimes had the odd text with Gemma. She was still in contact with that side of her life it was just now she was Harry’s date to dinner. But she wasn’t his girlfriend but they’d think she was and what did that mean? Anne and Y/n’s mother had wanted them to get married for years now since they were around 10. Would this be the new talk of the town between all the mothers? She knew it was likely. Gemma was probably bringing her partner Michal, so it felt really official or something. 

He watched her, her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as she stared at her cupboard. 

“I’m just wearing a shirt and slacks. Simple.” He replied. “Don’t think too hard about it, you’ll look pretty in anything, Bun.”

“Harry, I bet all of your outfit is custom-made Gucci. I can’t compete with that!”

He bit his lip to hold back his laugh. “Lovie, calm down. Don’t work yourself up. Just wear somethin’ you feel nice in. If yeh’ worried about me caring that’s silly, I like yeh’ in anythin’.”

She remained frowning and started to dig through the dresses she had. She found one hidden amongst them, she wore it to her birthday once. It was a long golden slinky dress with lace detail on the hem and neckline. It was very delicate. And even though it was spring she knew it would still be chilly that evening so she grabbed a long brown coloured coat from off the door that she had been wearing most days to Uni. It was warm and woollen and she loved it.

Harry busied himself by scrolling through his phone while she got ready. It didn’t take her long, once she was happy with her outfit and had added a light pink scarf, a handbag and some shoes she went to the bathroom to do her makeup and hair. 

She had already blow-dried her hair before and it was in a lovely natural state so she didn’t bother changing it. For makeup she kept it simple, only enhancing her features. When she was ready and came out Harry looked up upon the clicking of her heels. 

His cheeks turned pink at the sight. Jesus. “Beautiful, Bun.” He felt no words could do it justice.

She blushed a bit too at those words and that admiring expression of his. “Thanks, Harryyy. Ready? I’ll get the cookies and lock up and then we can go, okay?”

He nodded at her standing up and following her lead as she’d put the cookies into a tin. 

Once she grabbed everything else she needed they got in Harry’s car and headed to his house.

Y/n was browsing Harry’s playlists and noticed a new one in there which was unnamed only with a pink heart as the title. He wasn’t really paying attention to her on his phone, his hand was carelessly thrown on her thigh and the other the wheel, they were both pretty silent, it was calm. So he didn’t notice her scrolling through the songs — it was this soft, romantic, sleepy, soul playlist. Full of a lot of her favourites and it felt like a cosy evening. So she put it on and placed his phone back into her lap. 

Harry’s ears pricked up at the sound of the song, she’d found the playlist. Was it obvious it was for her? Well, about her?

“You found it.” He whispered, the song was only softly playing as background noise. He didn’t have the radio up loud. So she heard him.

“Yeah, it’s like all m’favs.” She said, smiling gently. 

He contemplated saying it, feeling his heart speed up as he spoke, “I made it f’you.”

She finally met his eyes and gave him this dazzling toothy grin. “Aw, that’s nice, Haz. Really sweet.” She leaned over kissing his cheek. She laughed when her lipstick left a stain and she rubbed it. “Sorry.”

He just gave her thigh a squeeze in reply worried he might reveal himself if he said anything else and a few songs later they arrived at his house. He told Y/n she could wait in the car because it would take him 10 minutes max to get dressed. 

She nodded and scrolled through her Instagram while she waited and then replied to a text from her Mum before she turned her phone off and waited in silence. He was quick as promised and when he came out the door he was looking devilishly handsome. 

She felt her body react to it. Her cheeks turned pink, her pupils grew in want, and her hands itch to touch him. Her heart was hammering against her chest and she felt a familiar twist of want in her stomach. He was in a silky black shirt that was long and tight on his muscular arms, his buttons were undone and showed off his tattoos. Which reminded her of when he had his long hair and he was this pure sex god rockstar of a man. He had a pair of black flared pinstripe trousers to match and a pair of black boots with red detailing. He looked so good she wanted to faint. She felt her thighs squeeze in want and she sighed at herself, don’t be such a perv!

He had added some extra rings and jewels from his usual bundle. Something caught her eye. It was this golden pendant with a moon and star on it, she’d bought it for him for his 19th birthday, when they first started living together. She hadn’t seen him wear it in a long time, she’d forgotten she’d even bought the thing. Y/n remembered buying it. Harry had been with her, they were at a market full of random things looking for cheap furniture for their place. 

They were walking past this large jewellery stall and both admired the rings and style. It was different from the normal places they’d seen. They had tonnes of it. A glint of something gold had caught her eye, it was that pendant. It was one of the only gold among the silver. She touched it in admiration and Harry peered over her shoulder, saying it was pretty and he liked it. Harry said he thought it was cool and matched a lot of his other jewellery. But without much thought, he walked off to look at some couches in the next stall. 

Y/n knew his birthday was coming up and asked the jeweller how much it was. He was this eccentric gentleman, who smiled at her. Showing the matching ring to her which was very dainty and feminine that she didn’t even think would fit Harry’s fingers. She explained that she just wanted the necklace as a gift for someone. But he said that he would not sell either piece without the other. At the time he explained it was made for two lovers, so they’d always be together, but Y/n replied it was just for a friend, truly believing he was just trying to get more money out of her. But now looking back she and Harry loved wearing them and matching. It cost her more money than she could afford at the time but she was drawn to it. Something magical in the crafting of them.

Her hand reached over to touch his neck fingers touching the chain. “Oh, my god. I forgot about that.”

He grinned. “Found it the other day.”

She wished she knew where the ring was. “I remember that ol’ thing.” Sometimes when she was in the crowd or if Harry knew she was watching the show, in the early stages that is, he’d lift up the pendant and kiss it or touch his heart where it lay. Especially if he was playing a song Y/n liked (or that was secretly about her). Sweet Creature was one he wrote for her.

When they arrived in a rather fancy area of London with very expensive restaurants and hotels, Y/n could’ve laughed. They’d both grown up okay, but they were just normal working-class families and they weren’t spoiled. She wished she could go back and tell young Harry who was always working away on his singing that’d he’d be here. She wished she could run into the bakery and tell him he’d be the most famous man ever. Tell both the young kids who were working selling pastries and bread that they would be here in a short time, together.

The valet collected the car and Harry slinked his hand into hers when they stepped out, and Y/n thought she spotted someone giving them a double-take. They quickly entered the restaurant, and the concierge took their coats for them. 

The restaurant was warm and heated, with all these crisp white tablecloths, mood lighting, and crystal glasses. The waiter immediately guided them to their table which was a fancy booth and Anne was already there waiting. She got up and instantly pulled Y/n into her arms. 

“I’m so glad Harry brought you, Darling! It’s so good to see, look at that gorgeous face of yours.” She squeezed her cheeks and kissed her forehead leaving a big mauve-coloured lipstick stain there. Y/n grinned so big and pulled her back in for another hug whispering sweet comments.

Anne was so lovely, Y/n had always loved her. She made one of her favourite people, and it made sense why he was so respectful and kind. So perfect.

Harry was next to be welcomed, bending down to be fussed over in her arms. Anne questioned if he’d been eating enough and began a tangent of worried remarks. He was such a momma’s boy, he could only smile gently at her.

When Gemma and Michal arrived they greeted Y/n too with hugs and kind comments and once their meals arrived all her tensions eased. She now knew she had been silly to worry. Harry’s family were just as lovely as him. She knew that already and this pressure of her being his date was stupid. They already liked her, they knew her, and they’d seen her grow up beside Harry. She was just Y/n and he was just Harry.

They ate wonderful dinners and drank expensive brands of champagne, along with some fancy French dessert Y/n had never tried that Harry insisted she ate. It was a perfect night and she was sad to say goodbye to them all. When Harry dipped to the bathroom for a minute Anne pulled her aside. 

“I’m so glad you two are getting closer again, you’ve always been my favourite of his girlfriends. And these cookies! So delicious, I love when you send them over at Christmas time. Harry steals the whole thing of them, usually. No one can keep their hands off them. Ever thought of selling them?”

“Thank you, Anne. Thanks for letting me come, I hope I didn’t intrude on your family night.” She didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. She wished she was one of his girlfriends and she was glad someone appreciated her cookies.

When Harry back came from the bathroom he saw Y/n hugging his mum, and his heart melted at the sight. 

Y/n was good with people, and his family had always loved her. She was so gentle and well-mannered. Their Mums were very close too which helped. When they had drifted Anne still updated him that Y/n was doing well, and he was always pleased to hear that.

Harry said his goodbyes too and promised them something about bringing Y/n to another family catch-up, she just smiled warmly with pink cheeks at the idea. She was leaning into his side, his big arm draped over her shoulders as he kissed her temple. 

The valet handed Harry the keys and they slid into his car before driving back home finally. It was around 10 in the evening and Y/n was absolutely blissful, her hand had found his lap stroking his thigh gently as a light patter of rain began to fall down on the windows. 

“You were wonderful tonight. Mums’ always loved you though, Petal.” His eyes were on the road but he was grinning anyway — unable to contain it. He felt so fucking happy.

She grinned softly. She was pretty sure she was all heart eyes for him right now. She imagined she probably looked like one of those cartoons where the guy sees a pretty woman walking down the road and his eyes pop out and his head starts spinning. 

“Thanks for bringing me, Harry. It was lovely. I had a really nice night.”

He looked at her as if to say ‘duh’, “Of course, I’d bring ya’ I know we didn’t talk for a while there, but I thought of you a lot. And y’know Mum, loves ya’. You’re very important to us all.”

She looked away from him blushing down at her free hand before nodding, and softly replying. “I thought of you too. Why didn’t you come to Mum’s New Year’s party? I waited for you the whole night…”

He sighed thinking back to what she was talking about. 

“I was in Japan.” He replied. “I really did contemplate flying back just for the party, but I wasn’t sure if y’wanted me too.”

She looked over at him. “I didn’t know that.”

“I know.” He replied softly.

The rest of the car journey was quiet, the gentle hum of the radio played along with the sound of rain softly hitting the glass. Harry didn’t speak he just moved his hand onto his thigh where hers rested, giving it a squeeze.

It didn’t take long to arrive back at his house, Harry opened the door for her and they quickly rushed inside to avoid the rain it had grown heavier and more wild. Y/n stepped inside first with a sigh, and Harry was not far behind. His hands slid onto her hips and lower stomach, and he kissed her neck just below her ear. 

She giggled, her hands finding his. He began to whisper sweet nothings to her but was cut off by her phone ringing. He grunted in annoyance but she said she had to take the call. 

He didn’t let go of her, clinging to her childishly and nuzzling his head into her soft shoulder. 

“Hi, Mum.” She said into the phone, Harry paused his touch.

He could hear the sound of Y/M/N over the phone muffled.

“Anne already told you?” Y/n wanted to laugh. She looked at Harry who sighed, of course, Anne had already rung Y/n’s Mum. 

“No. We aren’t dating Mum. We are just friends.” She sighed. Harry chuckled. 

They weren’t just friends now. Friends don’t make each other cum, they don’t kiss, or see each other naked, friends don’t do what they do. They were way past that line now. He knew her inside and out and now he knew her more intimately than anyone ever had. Harry wondered if he’d ever have the balls to approach the subject of their relationship and where he stood.

“Mum, we were never dating. Please stop telling people he’s my ex-boyfriend.” She laughed. Her Mum was a funny old thing.

“Okay, I gotta go now. Bye, Mum.”

The muffled voice spoke again.

“Yep. Yep. Okay. Love you too. Bye.” She let out a big sigh hanging up the phone. 

Harry was taking off his shoes and belt, he seemed sleepy but content. He was sat on the couch, he’d turned the mood lighting on. It was this warm glowy orange hue that washed over the room. He looked up upon hearing the end of the conversation.

“What is it with Mums?” He teased her as leant back against the plush white sofa. Y/n described it as sitting on a cloud. She napped on it all the time. His legs were all spread out and his head was thrown back.

Harry was so fucking hot. All the time. Did he never get tired of looking so handsome?

She shrugged, walking over to sit beside him and threw her legs up so she was laying on his lap. Her cheek rested on his thigh, and Harry’s painted fingernails scratched the roots of her hair. She made a little content sigh, letting her eyes flutter shut. Him touching her was like heaven.

“Mm. Feels nice, Harry.” He let out a little chuckle. She was practically purring from his touch, all curled up on his lap. Her hands were resting on his knee, and he found himself admiring them. So dainty and delicate. Sometimes he pondered adding a ring to that finger of hers. He thought she’d be a very good person to grow old with. She loved routines and nights in, but she was witty and intelligent, though she loved simplicity she was definitely not boring. She kept you on your toes.

He wanted to stay like this forever. She was practically falling asleep in his lap, like putty in his hands. She made the odd sigh or moan in contentment every now and then as he let her destress. 

She had been a bit stressed with Uni and her life at the moment, the work of it all was hard right now, so he wanted to do anything to help her calm down. The dinner had been a nice distraction for her, and she seemed a lot happier that evening than the text he had received from her that morning. 

She rolled over to her other side so her face was near his hip nose grazing against his skin which smelt so fucking good — he used this expensive woodsy cinnamon soap it made her want to lick him all over. He continued his slow and delicate scratch on her head and his other hand rubbed her exposed back. Her hands moved to under his shirt, trailing along his fern tattoos and grazing the wisps of hair that lead underneath his waistband. Her nose grazed his skin as she tiredly nuzzled into him, feeling her eyes shut. She felt so safe in his lap and arms.

It was so domestic. They had become so domestic. He wished every day he could come home and say something cheesy like ‘Honey, I’m home!’ and scoop her up into his arms and kiss her silly. He longed for nights like this watching TV as she rested on his chest, moving with the rise and fall of his chest. He wanted the mornings too. When she grumpily didn’t want to wake up unless it was from kisses and a coffee.

“Do y’want some wine?” He asked her, his voice all raspy.

They’d only each had a glass of champagne with dinner which had long since faded. Leaving them very sober.

“Sure. Red?” She asked sitting up. Her hair was slightly messy from his playing with it.

He nodded his hand finding her chin and lifting it up. “Whatever y’want, Lovie.” He kissed her forehead before getting up and moving to the kitchen. She finally took her heels off and removed her scarf placing them on the floor. She stood up, feeling the soft rug on her sore feet. 

She leaned down to the coffee table lighting some candles of his. She lit a soap-smelling one and then a lavender one. Then once she was happy with that she walked over to his records and looked for something nice to play. 

She stumbled upon a Marvin Gaye one and she giggled to herself. It was kind of cheesy love making music, so she picked that one. She placed the record down on the turn table part and placed the stylus down. It began to hum a gentle sultry song and she moved back to the couch. 

When Harry came back she was laying on the couch, spread out as she hummed along to Marvin Gaye. In his hands, he had a bottle red all the way from New Zealand and two pink-tinted wine glasses. 

He laughed at her. “Look at yeh, Minx.” He teased. 

She smiled up at him, her dress was hiked up and she looked like the embodiment of idleness. She sat up so he could join her and he poured them both a glass.

They only had two glasses each before Y/n started to droop tiredly against his shoulder. He found her particularly adorable like that. When he finished his final sip he helped her up so they could go to sleep, he blew out the candles too. She followed him lazily up the stairs and into the bedroom, arms wrapped around his waist and tummy. 

He found a random Fleetwood Mac shirt and some grey tracksuit pants for her to wear in one of his messy drawers.

She changed out of the dress and was so happy to get her bra off. It was this pretty lacy one that had Harry frothing at the mouth. Her undies followed once he began to change as well. He found a pair of black silky sleeping pants and didn’t bother with a top.

She followed him to the ensuite and found the cotton pads and makeup remover he had just for her. She began to wipe off the makeup and was glad to be rid of it. He was brushing his teeth silently beside her and she watched him through the mirror. He caught her and gave her a wink. 

She just made a little kissy face in response. He smiled against the toothbrush, a rim of foam around his lips. Once she was done with all that she threw the rubbish into the small bin beside the toilet. 

“Do you have face wash?” She said quietly.

He nodded, spitting into the sink. “Just up there.” He pointed to the cupboard which was also the mirror. 

She opened it, rising on her tip toes for a second.

“Blue.” He replied. She squinted trying to find the blue bottle, he had an array of skincare products. She saw a big dark blue bottle, she reached for it and he nodded showing her that was the right one. 

They both washed their faces together and he smiled watching it foam up against her skin. Once they had washed their faces Y/n finally brushed her teeth and they went to bed. 

She sighed slipping into the big fluffy bed. He had some pale blue sheets on this week. He slid in beside her wrapping his strong arms around her and pulling her into him. He nuzzled his face into her neck and shoulder, the very slight stubble nipping her skin.

The backs of her thighs pressed against the front of his, her bum pressed up nicely against his soft silky pants and his hands squeezed the soft plump of her tummy in comfort. It wasn’t particularly late, but they loved to be inside Harry’s big bed and just cuddle.

“Y’were just perfect tonight. How someone hasn’t swept y’up and kept yeh I dunno…” He whispered kissing the top of her header, nose brushing against her hair, inhaling her shampoo. 

She flushed. “No one’s really tried, H.” He made her heart pick up at the comment. This man and his flattery.

“Lucky f’me. Means I can have ya’ all ta’ myself.” It was meant as a joke, but honestly, he selfishly did want her all to himself. She was so perfect.

She giggled. “Lucky you.”

He squeezed her closer and tighter. She giggled some more, wriggling in his grip. One of his hands moved to her upper thigh. She stopped and leaned into the touch. They didn’t talk they just started to relax into a sleepy silence, the chilly air making them want to bask in each other’s warmth even more.

He kissed her shoulder every now and then soothingly and Y/n shut her eyes. Basking in the feeling of him. His presence made her feel so safe she wanted to sleep often.

“Harry, do you ever think about how long we’ve known each other?” She asked randomly, as his hands continued to rub her body feeling her soft skin against his palms.

“All the time, Petal. Why?” He said softly, his voice was all raspy and gravelly. It made her feel something in the pit of her stomach. He made it even harder for her not to beg for him, this waiting game felt like edging.

“It’s just funny to me how much we have changed, but also how little we have too. I mean we’ve known each other since what? Daycare? And that little boy is still you…”

He understood exactly what she meant. Some things would never change about Harry even with age. Like, he would always be kind and always make an effort. He would always have 3 sugars in his tea unlike, Y/n who would prefer none. He would always enjoy cheesy romance films and love the idea of love. He will always admire old couples walking down the street. And she would always see the more practical side to love. 

She thought back to when they were younger teenagers and how he was rather distant from her in the sense that they were in the same friend group but funnily enough never really talked alone. Then she remembered that in their final year at school Harry, who had refused to dance with anyone else, asked Y/n to dance with him because he knew she’d been waiting for the boy she fancied to ask her all night. Sitting all pretty by herself, feeling like her efforts had been a waste. Only to find herself in the hands of him, spinning and laughing underneath the disco ball.

Then in University when they found out they were going to the same place they naturally found an apartment together, with a slight push from their mothers. Who felt at ease knowing their babies would have each other. Which was weird at first but soon they were at a furniture shop testing mattresses and giggling. 

She never felt uncomfortable around Harry, but once she was close to him she knew she was done for. She knew that for the rest of her life, she’d want him. Crave him close to her. He kind of felt that too, but in a different sense. 

It was more like they kept finding each other unplanned. During school they’d had so many lessons together, sitting with each other quietly. After school, his Mum had her family over for a meal. Then sometimes at the bakery, where they served familiar faces, and between breaks they sipped hot chocolate together. At the end of year dance Y/n and Harry were the only two without dates, and so he danced with her. When University rolled around no one else was going, and of course, Y/n had accidentally by luck of the draw picked the same school as him. They both happened to need a roommate and then they were roommates, then finally best friends. It was as simple as that, it just fell into place with her. He never forced anything. 

Oh, how he loved those memories of being her roommate and best friend. Whenever he thought back to those times he couldn’t help but grin. Neither had ever anticipated anything that would happen — him famous, and her here with him, cuddled in bed.

“It’s like we can’t not be in each other’s lives. You’re always there for me, showing up.” Was all he could manage to say. 

It’s true, when they had drifted and he did a tour for his first album she came to a show with her own money. 

Anne had called her up explaining in a panic how nervous he was for this tour. It was his first without the band. So, with little thought Y/n went in support because no one else could make it, Anne and Gemma both had stuff they couldn’t back out of. Anne knew Y/n would do it for Harry. Everyone knew she’d do just about anything for him except, well, him.

She was in the front row, dressed in a familiar outfit that took him back in time. It was this lavender dress from their school days. She’d worn it to the dance. It was bouncy and had big puffy sleeves, all short and fluffy.

He hadn’t expected it at all.

He came out, dancing and going wild for one of his louder and more upbeat songs. When he finally greeted the crowd he scanned them and said politely. “Hi, I’m Harry!”

She rolled her eyes. How was he still so devilishly charming?

He spotted something familiar, someone, familiar. Her eyes, her smile, and that dress took him back. Suddenly he felt like he was at home, in Holmes Chapel and he was just singing karaoke with his old friends. 

“Y/n?!” He said with a grin. Completely shocked, he shook his head in a puppydog like manner. The few longtime fans in the crowd cheered loudly, knowing her from photos off his Instagram. Anne had a few up on her Instagram too and they seemed to love Y/n in the comments (mainly).

She waved at him. Mouthing, “Hi, H!” She couldn’t contain her smile.

She could see in his eyes how much it meant to him. They got all glassy and soft. Even if they hadn’t spoken in a while she calmed him down immediately. He hadn’t realised how much having her there would calm him. 

She was like chamomile tea, a warm bed, all things nice and calming.

“Thank you for being here, for those of you who don’t know, Y/n is a very old friend of mine. We worked together in a bakery.” He jested.

Y/n giggled.

It felt right for him to sing this song next, “This next one is Sweet Creature.”

“I’ll always be there for you, H. You know that.” She said tenderly.

He rolled her around to face him so he could see her pretty face spewing these kind words. This deep pensive look in his eye. “I’m…I’m really glad you’re here with me…in this moment…this time in my life. I never really noticed how mundane life felt until you came back into mine.”

She felt herself melt like ice cream sitting in the blistering sun during a summer day. She kind of wanted to cry at how sweet he was. Harry wasn’t even her boyfriend but shit these feelings. They were real. Her body went even softer in his arms.

She lifted her hands up from her sides to his cheeks pushing his head down so she could lean in and place a kiss on his forehead. His hair smelt delicious like soap and peppermint.

He hadn’t expected that but he felt himself flush pink. The innocent touches are what made him blush the most. She was so gentle with him. 

“Oh, Harry.” She sighed, pulling away and tucking a stray curl of his behind his ear. “Me too.”

He smiled leaning forward. “Can I kiss you?”

Y/n rolled her eyes teasingly. “Of course.”

His hands slid around to her back, blunt nails scratching her skin perfectly underneath the Fleetwood Mac shirt. He leaned forward into her lightly pecking her puffy lips, remaining very gentle at first. Her hands moved to his neck fiddling with the hair that rested there as she leaned into him. She threw her leg up to his hip and he moved one of his hands to stroke it gently. It was so soft and romantic. 

As the kiss began to deepen she gripped his shoulders trying to press her chest even closer to his wanting to be as close to him as possible. He hummed softly, feeling her tits press into him. Her nipples were hard and he wanted them in his mouth. 

“Mm, you’re perfect.” He muttered against her lips.

She smiled into the kiss, and he used that as an excuse to slip his tongue in ever so slightly. That’s when the kiss began to grow more fiery and passionate. He nibbled her lip and pulled her body even closer letting her roll on top of him as she mewled. 

Her hips rocked needily against his silky pants and he moved his kisses down her jaw and neck peppering them frenziedly, loving the little whimpers and whines that escaped her lips. Which only spurred him on to continue further down to the top of her chest.

The way she was rocking against him was making him lose his mind. Her hands clawed his chest as she whispered quietly. “Please, Harry.” 

This tension had been building for weeks. She wanted him so fucking badly. It was always on her mind, and it was honestly distracting. She’d been trying to write an Essay that morning and all she could think of was him, and in a horny flurry, she imagined him bending her over the desk. Making her scream with pleasure as he often did.

“S’good f’me, Baby.” He breathed out. Hands finding her hips now, forcing them harder against him. Thinking filthy thoughts of him burying himself in her dripping pussy. 

Her lips pressed into his shoulder and then slowly moved down the side of his body, kissing along his tattoos, biting and licking some parts of his tanned bare skin. Until she was finally by his waistband, her pink chipped fingernails teased his snail trail of hair that led to underneath the silk. His skin was so soft there.

His eyes became all hooded, animalistic-like. He was looking at her like he wanted to eat her. But he remained calm and gentle with touches. His hands found her hair, all his rings were off so she felt no sting of metal on her skin. His fingers were running through it delicately and moving it away from her beautiful face.

“Prettiest girl in the world.” He muttered and she blushed resting her cheek on his thigh. 

“Thank you, Baby.” She sighed. 

She only ever let those pet names slip during these moments and it made him so fucking needy for her. He just smiled softly, at ease. “Of course.”

“Can I taste you, H? Please?”

He let his eyes shut and he softly whined as her hand palmed against his pant-covered cock. He was stiff beneath her touch, and she could feel him throbbing at the contact. “You can do whatever you want to me, Angel.”

She giggled teasingly giving his prick a firmer squeeze. “Don’t promise me that. We’ll never leave this bed.”

He took a shaky breath at her words, she was just so fucking hot without even trying. She literally just spoke her mind, and it had him frothing. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” He replied breathily.

He opened his eyes, thinking back to all those nights in school when he’d dreamt of her sexually. He’d felt guilty a lot of the time for it of course, but she was just so fucking pretty and sexy without realising it. Like when they went swimming during the summer and she wore this cute little pink floral bikini, he would go home and in the summer heat, he would imagine it was her wrapped around him. He’d probably wanked to every filthy fantasy he’d ever had. Her sucking him off, maybe him fucking her throat watching tears spill from her eyes. Him eating her pretty pussy and making her feel so good she saw stars. Making love to her softly and romantically as she deserved, and sometimes he thought of fucking her roughly and needily. In different positions for hours. All the ones he could think of. But every time he came, he’d come back to and realise it was just his fist and not her mouth, hand, or precious pussy.

But now she was here in front of him, eyes all big looking up at him, ready and eager to take him into her mouth. She was real and she wanted him.

“Yes, Angel.” He rasped.

These moments always felt surreal to him. Especially because of how well they knew each other, now that they had started to explore each other’s bodies it was the most vulnerable they had ever been. No one would ever know them better than each other. 

Which is why her hand that was ghosting over his thick cock made him feel so close already from a mere touch.

She was dream-like.

“Mmm.” He whined. He was sensitive to her touch always, but tonight it was more than usual. They both pulled his pants off together so she could rest between his thighs, her mouth right in front of his leaking pink tip.

She was feeling a bit more vocal tonight. He loved it. “You have such a pretty dick, Harry. So big and veiny.”

He laughed softly, his hand running through his hair which had fallen into his eyes. “You think so?”

“I never really thought I could actually feel that way until I saw yours. It’s so pretty like the rest of you. It makes sense you have such a nice cock, it matches.” This new side to her had him dying in want.

God, he just wanted her so badly. He wanted to feel those pink slick lips around his cock, and watch her take him into her tight throat. Last night he’d even cum to the thought in the shower.

“You’re so sweet to me, Bun.”

She gave a gentle smile in response before shuffling closer to his glistening prick. Pursing her lips slightly as a string of spit dripped landing on the ruddy head, his breath hitched at the contact. His hands gripped the sheets roughly. When she finally leaned down close to him she did a signature kiss like always. The sight alone was enough to make him cum.

“Such a good girl for me, Baby.” He muttered his hands coming up to her hair pulling it away so he could see her adorable face as she kitten licked against his slick shaft. Her face was flushed pink like always when they’d been kissing, so pretty. She clenched her thighs at that comment and he noticed, very well aware now how much she loved his praise. Loved being told she was good for him, because she truly wanted to be good for him.

Leaning down further she fully enveloped his tip into her mouth, her tongue was a welcome contact against him and he whined loudly. “Fuck.” He said softly and involuntarily throwing his head back.

She had gained more confidence since that night on New Year’s Eve, she knew how he liked and had learnt to make him cum in mere minutes now. She had learnt to take most of him in her mouth too. Which she was surprised she could do considering how large he was.

As she swallowed him deeper into her mouth he heard a little choking sound as she went deeper than usual. Her nose grazed his navel and he cried out. She was taking him so fucking deep, the trail of hair tickled her noise.

“Shit, just like that sweet girl, so fucking good, deep. Fuck.”

She began bobbing her head faster and could feel him throb against her tongue, she would never be used to how large she was ever but she had started to learn ways to take him. He moaned loudly, unable to contain himself at her rapid pace. She pulled up for air for a second her hand coming down to stroke his slick cock at the loss of her throat so he wouldn’t miss her touch.

“H, y’can guide my head, it’s okay. I wanna make y’feel good. Move your hips too if that’s what you want.” She said slightly out of breath, spit and precum dribbled down her chin.

He looked at her eyes for reassurance and he saw a content look in them. “Okay, Love, just tap my legs if it’s too much.”

She nodded. “Ok, H.”

He smiled and she moved back down, taking a deep breath before she took him back into her mouth. He sighed, “Ah, mm.”

His hands had moved into her hair holding her head soft yet firm on his cock, when she made it to about halfway around him her tongue was swirling delicately against his engorged prick and he felt so close to cumming already. It had only been a few minutes.

She was struggling to stop her legs from squeezing together, his sounds made her so wet she felt herself dripping down her thighs. He began to gently guide her head into a bobbing rhythm and he felt a drip of precum fall out his head and he knew if they’d kept this up in another few minutes he’d cum. 

“Oh god, Y/n, your so fucking perfect taking me like this. Letting me use you.” He uttered, “Such a good girl letting me take your mouth like this. So filthy. My filthy girl.”

She moaned softly against his twitching cock and he whined, pulling her head up off him. She took a large breath in. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” She said quickly. 

He shook his head quickly. “No, you were fucking perfect, I just don’t want to cum yet.”

She looked at him, eyes all doe-like and lips sticky with his slick. Cocking her head to the side, “Why not?” 

He moved his hands to her shoulders. “Let me take care of you, I wanna make you feel good. You’ve been so good for me today. Such a sweet little thing. Let me take of my sweet girl.”

My sweet girl. Y/n felt her heart skip a beat.

She listened but pouted at his request. Sad his cum wasn’t down her throat. “Harryyy,” She whined. 

“What is it, Love, hmm?” But he knew full well what she was whining about. It had been apparent from the first night that Y/n loved his cum. She loved making him cum. In her mouth, on her tits, whatever he wanted. She often daydreamed of it in other places. Harry knew this.

She just continued to pout. “Enough whining. Be good f’me.” He ordered. “Let me take care of you. ”

Her face remained pouty but she spread her legs for him anyway and he yanked her pants down in one motion, she opened her legs for him widely and his hands stroked her thighs feeling the soft skin there. He motioned for her to take her shirt off as well. She threw it across the room.

He moved his hand up to her mouth tapping against her wet lips, he did that when he wanted her to suck on them.  She opened her mouth for his fingers making sure to swirl her tongue around them just to tease him a bit. He moved his eyes from her glistening pussy to her mouth and cheeky expression. He pulled them away. The popping noise made him smirk. 

“I don’t exactly need the help, you’re already dripping for me.” He teased, running his newly lubricated fingers against her puffy clit.

She moaned as her hips stuttered against his gentle hand. He laughed at her.

She wanted to be embarrassed but this being the millionth time Harry was between her legs she had given up hiding how wet he made her. Most mornings he wanted to start the day that way, right between her soft thighs pressing into his cheeks. 

“How could I not be, Harry? You drive me mad.” She replied her hands moving to his hair.

He smirked biting his lip. The heat of his breath made her squirm against him and his nose bumped her swollen clit. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss there. The taste of her was sweet and tangy on his tongue, and he was addicted. He began to lap up all the leaking arousal, making a filthy sound in his silent room. 

Her moans were soft and freely escaping her mouth, thighs squeezing against him as she tugged on his soft hair. She felt at complete ease underneath his harsh tongue. 

All her stress was melting away with his lick and suck, this was such a good outlet for her worries. She only thought of him. His mouth, his moans, and his prick.

“Harry,” She whimpered at the feel of his firm tongue. “Shit.” She breathed throwing her head back into his pillows, screwing her eyes shut. 

She felt his fingers glide up and down against her weeping hole until he finally slipped one inside. Feeling her clench against him firmly, he wished he was inside of her right now. Her velvety walls were so wet against his hand and he felt her dribble onto his hand as he began to speed up his thrusts. He added another finger.

His tongue didn’t stop suckling on her clit and curled his fingers against her, feeling the way her pussy stuttered against his fingers in an irregular clench. A telltale sign she was getting close to the brink of her orgasm.

“Jesus, Harry, how are you s’good at tha’? Think m’gonna cum soon.” She purred as her hips lifted up and her back arched off the bed.

He pulled his mouth back for a moment, his fingers speeding up and going deeper, as he rasped from wet lips. “S’okay Baby, cum for me, let go. Be good n’ cum f’me. I want it.”

She let out a mewling whine, tugging his hair harder. It was as if his words was the final thing she needed before she felt the start of her pleasure rise in her stomach.

He quickly moved his mouth back down and felt her puffy clit throb against his tongue and a drip of her slick fell down his chin as she let out a guttural cry.

A wave of bliss spasmed from her stomach to her stretched-out pussy, and she felt it pulsate over her entire body. Her eyes squeezed shut and she tugged his hair hard enough that he grunted against her.

“M’cumming! Fuck!” She felt lightheaded.

He pulled up for air, pumping his fingers quickly. “Good girl.” He praised breathily. Spent from working hard to make her cum.

When he felt her come down fully from the high of her climax he pulled his fingers out and licked them clean. “Mmm. I love how you taste, Petal. Sweet.”

She let her thighs drop in fatigue and she lifted her hand to her sweating forehead. Her blissed expression made him grin.

“Fucking hell, Harry.” Her tummy clenched at his words.

Her hand grabbed his shoulder and he moved back on top of her pulling her into a chaste kiss. She could taste the tang of herself on his lips. His tongue slid against hers and he tasted of her. She moaned softly into his mouth. He pulled back, “You’re so beautiful.”

She bumped her nose into his. “Harry?”

He kissed her jaw, “Yeah, Love?”

“I want you inside of me. Please.” She sighed, pupils dilated. “I want to be close to you, Harry.”

“Are you sure?”

She mewled. “I want you so bad, Baby. Please.”

How could he say no to her? She was all sweet and whiny, and her naked in his bed. “Okay. I want that too.” 

He pecked her lips softly before pulling away. “Gimme one second.” 

He got up off the bed and moved over to his bedside table finding a box of matches and lighting the few candles he had there.

She giggled at him. “What are you doing?”

He just grinned, “Making it special, Lovie.” 

She felt her chest flutter and a big toothy grin made its way to her face. Harry knew that Y/n was more practical, he was the hopeless romantic out of the two of them. But he wanted to make Y/n feel special, he wanted to be sappy for her.

He got up again walking into his cupboard.

“What else are you up to back there?!” She said with a giggle. 

When he came back out he had a bag with something in it. It was hard for her to see because it was dark. She squinted trying to understand. 

“Hold on stay there.” He said nipping his lip, he grabbed a handful of contents from the bag. Before throwing them onto the bed around her.

She opened her eyes looking to her sides under the dim light, plucking one up in between her fingers. “Is that rose petals?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, scratching his neck nervously. “I know it’s cheesy, but I wanted you to feel special.”

She couldn’t believe he went to all that effort. 

“Anything else?” She prodded.

He smirked. “One more thing.” He pulled something out from behind his back. It was one of those cheap plastic roses and he put the stem in his teeth and raise his brows. 

She laughed loudly, gently pushing his shoulder. “You are so corny!”

He pulled the rose out of his mouth, offering it to her goofily, feigning a gentlemanly gesture. “Thank you for allowing me the pleasure of being the first. I feel so lucky. It’s truly a privilege.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh shoosh.”

“I’m serious. I know it’s silly, but I feel grateful that I can be with you in this way. You’re my best friend. You’re very special to me.” He said tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned into the warmth of his palm.

“You’re my best friend, H. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my first. I trust you.”

He felt his heart swell and he moved back on top of her. His arms were straight beside her head. 

“Kiss me please.” She said breathily.

He moved his face closer, nose bumping into hers as he pecked her top lip. She met him in the kiss her hands glided over to his shoulders. Both their eyes fluttered shut. 

There was little urgency in their kiss, though Y/n felt herself ache for him but she felt no urge to rush him. Harry always liked to take his time. He used his free hand to slide down to her hip gently squeezing the flesh there. 

He started to scatter his kisses down along her jaw and nipped her ear. She sighed softly letting a moan slip in contentment. Her hands moved to his hair softly massaging his head. 

His kisses travelled further down to her neck and he sucked harshly against her nipping the soft skin, she hissed in pleasure and he licked back over the spot to soothe her. Her pretty sighs of contentment made him smile against her skin.

His lips grazed further down across her chest and he could hear the pounding of her heart. 

“Are y’nervous, Bun?” He asked, eyes looking up to meet hers.

She looked down at him. “A little but, I don’t need to be do I?”

“No, it’s just me.”

She smiled, moving a curl away from his forehead, “Just Harry.”

“Exactly, just me. But you know that if you wanna stop at any time you tell me. Or if it hurts, or for any reason just say it and I’ll stop. We can just cuddle, I won’t mind.” He replied. 

“I know, I will.” She said.

“Good girl.” He kissed her heaving chest as he moved further down lapping her nipple up into his mouth.

She squirmed her hips against the thigh that rested between her legs, he could feel how wet she was against his bare skin. “Ah,” She cried softly.

His free hand massaged the tit that wasn’t in his mouth softly. Her back arched into his touch. “Oh, Harry, you are so good at that. Fuck.”

He chuckled lightly moving back up to her face. “You ready?”

She nodded. “Mhmm.” 

He kissed her forehead in response, pulling off her.

“Where are you going?” She grabbed his arms. 

“To get a condom.”

“No, it’s okay,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” 

He felt his prick twitch at her words.

“Okay.”

Her legs wrapped around his waist and he moved his free hand down to grab ahold of himself. She felt the head of his cock pulsating against her sensitive clit. “M’ gonna go slow, okay?”

She nodded, her chest heaving into his. “Mmkay.” She breathed.

He dragged the tip down to her weeping hole, hissing at the contact of it.

“You okay?” She asked.

He pressed his forehead into hers. “Yeah, you?”

She nodded. 

That was enough reassurance for him to start to slip inside, his cock was so heavy in need. Even though he had gotten her more comfortable and stretched for him with his fingers it still stung as he pushed inside. 

Only the head of him was inside and she already felt so stretched. 

“S’big.” She muttered.

He was going very slowly, his eyes trained on her face, and the pinched expression she was sporting. Worried that it was too painful. Knowing he was rather large. 

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, and she squeezed back. “Keep going, please.” She said.

He nodded in reply, slowly pushing his hips further. She sighed in discomfort, feeling the veins of him against her. She clenched and he hissed. Pushing further, he felt his cock splitting her open.

He noticed her eyes were glassy and a tear slipped from her eye as she bit her lip.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked rushedly. 

She shook her head. “No, keep going, just stings a bit.” She tried to explain. 

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, “Mhm.”

He rocked forward and he felt him slip into her further. “M’nearly there, Love,” He soothed, kissing her temple.

When he rutted one final thrust his balls pressed against her ass. They both whimpered at the contact. 

Her eyes were dilated as she felt completely full of him. “Shit, Harry.” Her legs were wrapped around his lower back holding him close. 

“You’re so tight, fuck me,” He whined. She was clenching rythmically around his throbbing prick.

“You can move,” She knew that soon the pain would become pleasure, it would melt away soon, it was already beginning too.

He buried his face in the side of her neck, smelling her perfume and natural scent as he moans grew louder muffled by her shoulder. His thrusts began shallow and slow and she whined loudly. Her arms wrapped around the expanse of his back and she scratched along his shoulderblades.

He hissed at the pain, loving the sting.

“Harry,” She cried out when he started to speed up into her, ramming against her sensitive spongey spot that made her lose her mind, he was the only one who could reach that deep inside of her. She felt him all the way in her stomach. She was already sensitive from her previous orgasm and was keening at the feeling of his slow needy rutting.

He whined at the feel of her clamping down on him. “Fuck, Y/n.”

The pain had subsided to pleasure, the sting hardly noticeable now. She squeezed his shoulder, “Feels good, H.”

He started to speed up now, pounding into her at a ruthless speeed. “Shit, Baby, feel s’good on m’cock.”

He was needily moving into her, as his head remained buried by her neck breathing in the delicious sent of her. It had been a long time since he’d had sex and since he had only been with Y/n for these few months now he’d only had blowies or handjobs, which were great don’t get him wrong, but nothing and I mean nothing compared to her wet tight pussy. God, he’d dreamed of it. Nights and nights he’d lay awake dreaming of it. Dreamed of burying himself in there deeply, and the little sounds it would make.

He knew the right thing to do was to wait, and he was so glad he did. But it meant he was worried he might cum inside her already, the tension building all this time meant he was so pent up. He just wanted to release all his sexual frustrations from these past few months. She was so perfect against his cock, like it was made to wrap around him. 

“Like this pussy was made for me.” He rambled.

“I can feel you in my tummy, H.” She whined shutting her eyes, and he pulled up from her should moving his hand to press onto the now bulging flesh of her tummy. With each pump he felt her clench against his prick and saw the faint bulge of his cock. He could feel himself with each thrust, as they both moaned.

He moved that hand from her tummy down lower to her swollen clit that was begging for attention. Rubbing harsh circles and her hips twitched. “Oh god, Harry,”

He wanted to feel her cum on his cock, he was desprate for the feeling, he could already tell she was getting closer to the brink from the stimulation on her puffy senstive clit and his thick prick pounding into her. The clamping of her pussy was growing irregular and when his thrusts went particularly deep inside of her, her eyes rolled back.

She felt euphoric, this white blistering hot feeling was shooting through her from head to toe. 

She was honestly surprised how good he made her feel, when she was younger and all her friends were losing their virginities they told her it hurt and that it was awkward. Or that they didn’t cum, and there was no foreplay. She had expected that Harry would know what he was doing, but even that didn’t live up to this moment. She had also known that it may not be as pleasurable until later on but she was feeling like she was on cloud fucking nine.

“You’re so pretty, such a pretty little thing.” He mumbled as he placed some kisses down her neck and along her collarbone.

She mewled her back arching into him. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered with a slight disbeleif in her eyes, “think you’re gonna make me cum, Baby.” 

He watched her with a sultry grin, as her eyes screwed shut and the hands that were on his back started to scratch along the tan flesh once again much sharper. “Don’t stop,” She panted. 

“Such a good girl f’me. Y’gonna come on my cock?” He asked teasingly, with a pant.

She could only whine in response, biting her lip at the intensity. 

“Atta’ girl. Be a good girl and cum on m’cock.” He praised. 

She started to shake, the feeling of his fingers still on her clit was pushing her to her orgasm. Her tummy clenched and she couldn’t contain her hips from squirming up into his. This intense wave of bliss rushed through her as waves of pleasure melted from her chest to her stomach all the way down to her throbbing pussy that was wrapped around him. 

Her heart was thumping in her chest as her entire body twitched in delight and climax. His prick never stopped it's pounding as he let her orgasm ride out. It was longer than the first one and like nothing she had ever felt before. She’d only dreamt of this kind of pleasure and usually Harry was the one giving it too her. She felt like it was an out of body experience, her head became lightheaded and stars appeared in her vision. She hadn’t even heard her self crying out, until she came back too. 

He slowed down to allow her a moment to catch her breath. Her pussy felt so senstive that even these more gentle and tame strokes had her basically sobbing with pleasure. 

“I’m close, Sweet girl,” He hissed and he began to speed up once more now his thrusts were sloppy and an uneven rhythm. Her orgasm had made him lose any last bit of control he had.

She could barely speak she was so spent. “Please,” She didn’t know what exactly she was begging for.

He pushed his lips into hers and trapped her in a kiss, her hands found their way into his thick hair which was coated in a light dampness from sweat. She moaned against them and he was whimpering into her swollen lips. He pulled his lips off hers for a moment as he whimpered a desprate, “Gonna’ cum.”

She managed to breath out a soft, “Cum for me Harry,”

The delicacy of her voice made him lose it and he felt his cock twitch in release, hot spurts of his cum shot up inside her and she felt him fill her up completely. He whimpered the most despratelty she’d ever heard and his head fell into her neck. “Fuck,” He breathed. 

Her pussy was still clenched around him tightly. “That was…wow.”

She giggled. “That was perfect.”

He lifted up from her shoulder and captured her lips into a kiss. It was long and tender and much softer than then the urgent act they’d just comitted. He itched to say it, those three words, but all that came out was. 

“You’re gorgeous, Y/n.”

“Thank you, Harry,”

He kissed her forehead. “Come on, let's clean you up.”

if you enjoyed please follow me to see the next parts coming soon ily 🫶 feel free to check out my masterlist xxx & feel free to request me too!!

[bowtiepastabitch]

Let's talk costuming: Avaunt!

So I think we can all agree that Aziraphale looks his most traditionally angelic in the Job minisode, no? In fact, all of the angels' costuming increases in drama for this particular episode. This is, obviously, a very deliberate choice on the part of wardrobe, so let's discuss.

On a technical level, the biggest thing that stands out to me about this fabulous robe is the draping. Oh, the draping. It feels like a classic angel 'fit because on a very fundamental level, it is. A lot of what we think of as angelic draws on Renaissance artists' depictions, with flowing robes, fluffy wings, and glimmering halos. In art from this era, there is a strong attention to detail on the natural flow of fabrics that makes Renaissance sculpture so breathtaking, such as here: (The Ecstasy of St. Teresa, Bernini, 17th century CE)

It's this ability to make solid marble look like fine silk rippling with movement that leaves such a strong impression in my mind when I look at these kinds of works.

In painting, too, there is a similar effect. Something about the material culture of the Renaissance really lent itself to this style, perhaps fueled by the rise in new textile luxuries that occurred in vaguely the same period. This is seen especially strongly for angels, such as in the sculpture above, and in this painting: (The Annunciation to the Virgin, Botticelli, 15th century CE)

There's a stark contrast between the dress of the two figures. The virgin Mary is no less ornamentally or expensively dressed, but her style is rather minimalistic next to the angel's voluminous robing. It paints a very clear impression of angelic dress, and the designers for Good Omens would have been aware, in at least a small way, of the art history precedence for such a thing.

The poof of the sleeves, the tucks down the front, the little belt with the train tucked in, the gathers, the weight of the fabric, everything about this robe is constructed to carefully recreate the rather fantastical imagery of renaissance art. It's not necessarily an easy texture to nail down, given that the artists themselves had no concerns of gravity, comfort, or the way it would look in actual 3d motion, while our brave costumers were dealing with all three as well as a budget, time constraints, and the constant consideration that white fabric just gets dirty so easy.

Here's some of the other angels as well, so you can see how theirs reflect those same dramatic themes.

And then, of course, when costuming a show you have a second question: What does this mean for our character? Or rather, we know how, but WHY did they make him look so traditionally angelic?

Well, thematically, the Job minisode centers around Aziraphale's struggle with being a good angel and Crowley's struggle with being a good demon. Aziraphale is learning how to be an angel that follows along with heaven as far as we can, and he's so terribly torn up about it. He spends a lot of his time fretting about doing what's expected demanded of him, even if perhaps he doesn't believe it to be the right choice. Natural, then, that he should look the part of the perfect angel whilst sorting out these ethereal woes.

Crowley even draws attention to it himself, giggling a bit at the suggestion that Aziraphale, with his fluffy hair and flowing angelic garb, could possibly become a demon. And it is a rather silly mental image; the garment itself would be comically silly in really ANY other context at all. In the same manner, his performance of angelic archetype borders on excessive:

He's trying so desperately hard here to be the angel he wants to and is supposed to be. He's dressed the part, he's using his big scary angel voice, but deep down he's clinging to an identity that doesn't quite fit.

(You'll notice in this shot the distinct difference between his and Crowley's dress on the level of silhouette as well as color. We see this a lot from the two of them, but with the points I made above it felt worth pointing out in this particular scene)

Here at the end, as he's coming to terms with the cracks in his heaven-given identity, his robe is largely in shadow, blurring out its startling whiteness. We do not see him dressed this way again. (He continues to wear white, obviously, but from here on out his style of dress mimics the human trends of the time rather than that classical angelic imagery)

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Love of a Princess - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Simpson!OC (Princess Alexandra)

Word Count: 2.3k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Series Warnings: (Modern-ish) Royal AU; Meant to Be Set in 1920s/1930s; AU Country/World; Inspired by History; Royal Protocol; Bodyguard AU; Implied Very Much Legal Age Gap; Mentions of Arranged Marriage; Mentions of Social Construct of Virginity; Sexism; Angst; War and Politics; Eventual Non-Descript and/or Implied Sexual Content; OCs

Series Summary: When Princess Alexandra is sent to the countryside to allow her father, King Beau, to deal with pressing state issues, she views it as a banishment. But with Lieutenant Bradshaw of the Royal Navy accompanying her, perhaps she can finally find the freedom she's been searching for her whole life.

A.N. Very lightly inspired by the first two seasons of the Crown, but it's not meant to reflect that or take on a distinctly British tone.

Master List

Part 2

There was always a silent freedom of the early morning, when the sun was just starting to rise and drops of dew were still forming on the blades of grass. It was her father, the King, that taught her that it was the early hours of the morning where she would always find the most peace in the day.

It was when she was allowed to be herself, and not the Princess, Heir Apparent to the Throne. When the weight of the day had not yet fallen on her shoulders, and she could still breathe freely. And when for just a moment, she could enjoy complete serenity.

As such, there was rarely a morning that Princess Alexandra was not out in the gardens or even a ride when she was out in the country. And this morning was no different.

Sitting on a stone bench in the middle of the gardens—as far away from the walls of the palace as she could get without a chaperone—Princess Alexanda quietly read her book, humming to herself as she reached to take a small sip of her coffee. She just needed a few moments to herself before her country called for her and she was forced to become Princess Alexandra.  

From her conversation with her private secretary the night before, she understood that today involved more meetings with stuffy statesmen. Ones that viewed her as a silly little girl playing dress up in the role of the future queen, yet none of them could actually say it or even think it too loudly. And Alexandra was tired of it.

“You should be getting ready for your meetings,” a voice called from her left, causing her to look up suddenly from her book.

“You know how I feel about those meetings,” Alexandra sighed, turning away from her father and back to her book. “Besides, my outfit is already selected for me, down to the earrings and even the stockings. My schedule has been picked for me. And even the words that should travel from my brain to my mouth have already been decided without me.”

“I thought you normally had coffee when you came out here to read?” King Beau mused, resting his hands on his knees.

“I do.”

“Then why are you still so crabby?” he teased his eldest daughter, nudging her with his elbow. Alexandra shot her father a look but it quickly dissolved into an amused smile. “It will get easier with time. I promise, my dear.”

“More automatic, you mean,” she sighed, marking her book before shutting it.

“Perhaps,” he replied softly. “But you’ll find your way, Alexandra. Your own way.”

“I will certainly try.”

“I know that you will. But right now, you should get back to your room and get ready for today before you scare your maid. There are military men coming today. And military men are always on time. You can’t be late.”

“Alright,” Alexandra replied, getting up from her seat. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she bid her father goodbye. She made it a few steps before turning on her heel and asking her father, “Who’s coming today that’s so important?”

~~~~~

“Remind me again why the princesses need additional security? And from a man like me, no less?” Bradley asked, walking a step behind his uncle into the palace.

“Tensions are rising across the globe. The King quietly wants the princesses to be shuttled out to the countryside while he’s in intense meetings all day.”

“He doesn’t want to alarm them?”

“I would think so. He doesn’t need distractions. It’s a very delicate situation everywhere and the princesses are young.”

“The future queen is very much an adult,” Bradley pointed out to Maverick.

“In age, certainly. But in the eyes of the country and of the government, not entirely,” Maverick replied, taking the steps in front of him quickly.

“But why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

“That’s a bullshit answer.”

“Do not swear when in the palace,” Maverick hissed, nudging Bradley with his hand. “And be careful here. There are ears in the walls.” Maverick quickly adjusted Bradley's medals and straightened out his collar before shooting Bradley another look. “Just get through today and then you can act like a normal human being again.”

Bradley nodded and followed his uncle’s lead. They walked into a grand room where several gentlemen were mingling. Most of them were in military uniforms, but there were still a fair number of aristocrats running around the place. Probably annoyed at all the commoners running around, if Bradley had to guess. But he stood silently as Maverick led him over to Ice.

“Prime Minister Kazansky,” Maverick greeted, causing Ice to turn.

“Captain Mitchell,” he returned, shaking Maverick’s hand as if they were meeting for the first time. But the smiles shared between them clearly showed a level of familiarity that Ice didn’t share with the other high-ranking officials in the room. Ice turned to Bradley and extended his hand again, as if he was not at Bradley’s military academy graduation, “And Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

“Prime Minister,” Bradley stated, struggling a bit to hide the familiarity in his tone.

“Are you prepared for your next mission, Lieutenant?” Ice asked, folding his arms behind his back.

“Yes, sir. I have studied the mission extensively, as I would any military operation,” Bradley replied, sharing a look with Maverick. “Though, I must admit that I don’t know why this mission has become mine in the first place.”

“There were several factors at play,” Ice explained quietly, keeping his voice low. “The King served in the Royal Navy and therefore trusts a Navy man more than he would another. Your record is exemplary, and your personal recommendations are pristine. You are young and agile. And you don’t have any record of being a fanatic concerned with the Royal Family.”

“Fanatic?” Bradley repeated, confused.

“Fanatic, yes. The Princess is still unmarried, of course, and as she is of marrying age, the King does not want any fanatics or obsessive social climbers anywhere near her.”

“Then why did he invite them?” Maverick asked dryly, gesturing to a group of nobles on the other side of the room. At Ice’s expression, Bradley turned to Maverick with a small smirk. “Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t know proper decorum at these events, Mav.”

“If you would all please get into your order,” a voice boomed from the entryway.

Bradley followed Maverick and stood at the very end of the line. Straightening up, he stared ahead, waiting for the King and Princess to finally arrive. He had seen photos of them, of course, but meeting them in person was different. The black and white of the photos still hid details that Bradley felt like he needed to know if he was going to act as a guard to the three princesses.

The doors opened as Bradley turned his head to watch the King step into the room and greet Ice at the head of the line. Maverick told Bradley that the King was a bit stuffy and a stickler for the rules, but when one truly got to know him outside of his duties, he was a man of exceptional character with a strong, caring nature.

Turning his head again, Bradley paused when he saw the Princess Alexandra step into the room.

Her hair was curled and pinned back into place in a bun that Bradley was sure could probably survive a bomb. She wore a simple gray dress and coat with matching heels, looking a bit like an accountant as she followed a few steps behind her father. And the necklace around her neck was quite simple for the future Queen.

But when she looked down the line and briefly locked eyes with him, there was no mistaking her for an ordinary woman. Her gaze was sharp, calculating, analyzing every minute detail put in front of her, down to the shine of each medal on each man’s chest and the quality of the thread below it. Her quietness that the papers liked to discuss was not timidness, but simply a pause.

Like a lioness waiting in the grass for the right moment to strike.

~~~~~

Princess Alexandra had been through about a thousand lineups in her life and every single one was as boring as the last. There were never people that she wanted to meet—scholars, artists, individuals who did not treat her like a dainty doll that they could manipulate as they pleased, but rather a strong woman with her own thoughts.

No, it was just a lineup of stuffy statesmen and nobles that all thought she was an idiot waiting for her chance to burn it all down through her own delusion.

But she didn’t mind Prime Minister Kazansky.

“Your Royal Highness,” Ice greeted her with a nod of his head, “it is a pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Prime Minister,” she returned, shaking his hand briefly. “And please tell me that I have the continued mercy of having you at my side at lunch.”

“Indeed, miss.”

“Good,” she stated with a genuine smile before she was ushered on.

Going down the line of statesmen and nobles, she had to bite back a grimace when she saw the next man in the lineup. Michael Warrington, the next Earl of Avon. And the man who seemed so intent on seducing her that it was honestly laughable. She had about as much interest in his serpentine smile, bad breath, and small mind as she had interest in getting shot in the face.

“Lord Warrington,” she greeted him politely.

“Your Royal Highness, it is a pleasure to see your beautiful face again,” he drawled, shaking her hand for a bit longer. Thank goodness she was wearing gloves, or she would have to thoroughly sanitize her hands after this encounter. “We missed your presence at the races. I believe you are a good luck charm for our horses.”

“You are too kind, Lord Warrington.” As she turned to the next man in the line, she muttered under her breath, “Really too kind.”

Making her way down the rest of the way, Alexandra came to the last two men in line. They were both dressed in naval uniforms that were freshly pressed and medals that were recently heavily shined. But she could tell that they were both not used to these events. And that automatically made them more interesting to her.

“The Captain Peter Mitchell of the Royal Navy,” her attendant introduced Maverick to her.

“Captain Mitchell,” she stated, extending her hand for him to shake. “My father has told me a great many stories of your valiance in the Royal Navy.”

“I do hope only the stories that paint me in a good light, Your Highness.”

“Only those that paint him in a good light, I’m afraid,” she replied with a note a humor in her tone. “What brings you to our fine palace today, Captain Mitchell?”

“Military matters, miss.”

“Of course.”

“And the matter of your security, as well.”

“My security?” Alexandra repeated, trying to not show her confusion.

“Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw of the Royal Navy,” her attendant continued, pushing her along.

With her usual stately mask slipping, Alexandra stepped to the side, turning to the man standing beside Maverick, whom her father had been talking to for a few moments longer than the other guests. Looking up at the lieutenant, she felt her cheeks instantly warm with girlish embarrassment that she swore she had outgrown.

He was tall, but not gangly. Nowhere near gangly. The white fabric of his naval uniform was absolutely pristine and outlined the size of his strong frame. His face was tanned, showing that he spent much time out in the sun, and he wore a finely trimmed mustache on his upper lip that framed his plump lips.

She wouldn’t mind statesmen who looked more like him.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw,” she greeted him, offering him her hand.

“Your Highness,” he returned politely, nodding his head to her before shaking her hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“The honor is all mine, Lieutenant,” she stated softly.

“Alexandra,” her father called, causing her to turn to him, “Lieutenant Bradshaw will be joining you and your sisters in the country.”

“Wonderful,” was all she managed, shooting Bradley a small smile. “Well, I look forward to spending more time with you, Lieutenant.”

“I as well, Your Highness.”

Alexandra nodded back to Bradley before following her father towards the dining room where the state lunch would be taking place. When they were a few steps away, her stately expression slipped, and she turned to her father with a look that her mother used to shoot him when she knew that details were being kept from her.

“I’m supposed to go to the country with Ellie and Sophie next week?” she asked quietly, but with a strong measure of force behind her words. “And with a guard?”

“Something has come up,” Beau replied just as quietly as they approached the table. “We will discuss it later tonight.”

“Or never at all?” Alexandra needled, pursing her lips together.

She shot her father one last look before walking around to her side of the table. Beau took a breath before moving to do the same. He was never concerned that his eldest daughter would be able to keep herself composed at these state events. But he was concerned for the sharpness of her words afterwards.

Bradley found himself at the end of the table, but yet he could still see the Princess standing in the middle, beside Ice. She kept her composed expression, but the daggers in her eyes only seemed to have sharpened.

The lioness was getting ready to pounce.

Part 2

[rosyfingered-moon]

2023 drama roundup

Unchained Love: I still hum the unhinged flute intro on a regular basis, easily my fave intro of 2023! I didn't actually finish the show due to dwindling interest, but for the first 14 episodes or so I took a keen pleasure in it (and it made me go on a eunuch webnovel spree, expertly curated by @mercipourleslivres). I love it when heroines are allowed to be truly funny, rather than just quirky or ditzy. Also appreciate the goofy Lamp Prince turning into a brutal incel tyrant the moment he got power.

Six Flying Dragons: I don't think I can write anything succinct enough for the roundup format so I direct you to my "my sfd tag" if you want to access my enthused livetweeting. Show of all times, lives were changed.

Tree with Deep Roots: I literally can't think of a better topic for a tv show than Sejong the Great constructing hangul together with his band of nerds, one of whom he has a weirdly intense, vaguely erotic relationship with. Han Suk-kyu carried this entire show on his trembling shoulders. What an actor! What range!!! It was such a treat to watch him smugly debate his ministers, roleplay a farmer, and hiss half-mad soliloquies to himself in the dark. It took nuance and depth to portray the kind of inner conflicts and generational trauma that Sejong battles in the background of this drama. To be honest I didn't always enjoy the Milbon subplot which I felt got repetitive, and often found myself wanting to fast-forward the wuxia scenes. In a better world the show would have centered the whip-smart palace maids and their alphabet workshops. But I will definitely rewatch this soon. And maybe also write a fix-it where Sejong and Soo-yi fuck idk.

Quartet: Cute little murder mystery about a found family of freaks, liked it a lot.

My Country: The New Age: As entertaining as ever. Very fun to rewatch this back to back with Tree with Deep Roots, since Jang Hyuk plays diametrically opposite characters with the same vigor and commitment.

Gone with the Rain: Sometimes you watch something which you understand is technically a masterpiece but it doesn't do anything for you, and sometimes you watch a piece of campy silly fun and it makes you tingle with joy. This was the latter category for me. I liked the first and middle parts enough to make up for the lukewarm fizzle of an ending.

The Autumn Ballad: Has some fucked up elements that are difficult to stomach, but the parts that are good are really good.

Not Others: Bingeable! But imo they could have cut out the stalker/murder cases and just focused on the excellent family drama.

The Matchmakers: This surprisingly swooped in towards the end of the year as my favorite comedy of 2023, all thanks to a rec by @haraxvati. I adore Cho Yi-hyun in this role!!! She is so hot as a shrewd matchmaker with a fake mole and a twinkle in her eye. Love the virgin prince with his yearning-induced panic attacks (Rowoon didn't work for me in The King's Affection in a quite similar role, but he's so much weirder and lamer here, which is something I like in a man). I am obsessed with the side plot of the crossdressing romance novelist and the solemn police officer who is trying to capture her and ends up giving her free home renovations and smouldering looks instead. Also, Park Ji-Young and Lee Hae-Young are two of my favorite villain actors on their own, and here they are married!! Still have a few episodes to go, but I intend to binge them as soon as I post this.

Dramas I dropped or paused:

Our Blossoming Youth: I shipped the heroine and her cute maidservant a little too much to bear the dull prince they stuck her with. But I might rewatch it some day bc I want to write a Sherlock Holmes fic for the girls.

Little Women: A real disappointment, because I love Louisa May Alcott and I love Jeong Seo-kyeong. Once again, letting the women kiss might have solved much of it.

Island: Casting Kim Nam-gil as an expressionless cool-guy action hero offends me personally. (Yes Song of the Bandits I'm giving you the stinky eye also.) But Lee Da-hee and Cha Eun-woo were delightful!

See you in my 19th life: I couldn't, even for my most darling Shin Hye-sun, go beyond episode 1. There's something about a kid dating another kid even though she's a literal adult inside her brain that I can't really vibe with.

My Dearest: I do intend to finish this, but I lost the thread after the first half. It got a little too dark for me I think.

[blkkizzat]

Kali losing her virginity story time when

sis lmfao it's not glamorous... ngl i 18 and i was crossfaded af at a college party and "superman" by eminem was playing.

LMFAO A MESS, ill talk about it but i don't wanna trigger anyone so under the cut. tw sex under the influence; dubcon

i probably wasn't in the right mind frame to consent or anything tbh (so please dont be like me stay safe). well, honestly now that i think about it, i think it was just that last bong hit that had me out of my mind. although i was already naked atp lol so i was down to have sex. but right after that's when i blacked out and when i came to i was literally moaning as ol'boy had a mouth full of my pussy hjdfasdjhfasdjh. i just wanted to lose my v and get it over with so i was happy to go with the flow. (disclaimer: back in the day when i was drinking hard dark liquor and mixed it with weed i would literally black out, but not go unconscious but just lose that time and not know wtf i was doing for the last 20 mins. But people have told me i was talking/acting like normal so idk.bdjhsdfjh but it happened then too. its only happened to me like 3-4 times tbh all when i binge drank heavy in college and smoked a fuckton of weed. so no it wasn't like i was unconscious and he was hooking up with me anyway).

that said, ngl that was some of the best sex i ever had in college. high sex is always great for me tbh and i dont remember it hurting much (but he had also just ate me out for like 45 min) but i think me and ol'boy just had good natural chemistry. he lived on the 3rd floor and my friends on the first floor said they heard me kfjhsdkjshdfkvjhsd.

one awkward asf thing though is the guy did not know i was a virgin and i would have told him if i wasnt so fucked up fjkhrfkdhgkdf.

also just wanna note, im not sad or upset at all. i always gave zero fucks about the construct of virginity (personally, please if you want it to be nice and special that is your preference and nothing is wrong with that). and sidenote thats why other than the one virgin!reader fic i will write (she wont really give af either tho tbh), i dont like writing virgin!reader cause i dont believe in idealizing it.

honestly i just wanted to lose it cause up until that point i was scared to use a tampon and was tired of being in the bloody dirt trenches with pads fhsdfjkhasfjaksh. like it wasnt even about "losing my virginity to a tampon", i was just scared to put it in. but literally got my period a week later and was like "well a dick has been in me" and found the courage to put it in. i was a silly bitch im fully aware LOL!

but i will say, it was this weird thing after where i felt bad for NOT feeling bad. like i had other friends who idealized virginity so much (then were all pikachu face when they found out i didnt want to tell them i had sex), i felt like there was something wrong with me for not thinking it was a big deal. even sometimes now, i wont want to discuss it just because so may people do idolize it its annoying to have to deal with their reactions and reassure them "no i dont feel like i was SA'd, no i dont regret it, yes i actually enjoyed the experience."

however i will say now im in the middle.

these days im alot more selective with who i fuck as personally i subscribe to the ideas of tantra/tantric sex. That while you can have sex without emotions, you can't have it without an energy exchange. sometimes ive felt shitty after one-night stands or liked the friends with bennies for the pleasure in sex but felt off after. i realized that those feelings weren't due to guilt from slut-shaming but the fact that their energy was off and it was now having an effect on me. so rn im DTF 100%—but yo energy gotta be right. and usually i cant tell that just from the bar or first meeting so ive been waiting more.

i rambled again jsdhsdjhbj but oh well.

[hollywoodxwhore]

Mine | Chapter Two

Colson x Original Female Character

I got such a good response on chapter one yesterday! Y'all are too good to a girl who just wanted to relieve some stress by writing silly little stories about a hot dude. Love y'all so much!

Synopsis: Presley may look sinful on the outside, but deep down, she's innocent, guarded, and terrified of intimacy. Colson, on the other hand, is living up to his womanizer reputation as a way to cope with heartbreak. When his new guitarist invites his twin sister to join them on tour, Colson discovers that he's actually capable of feeling. Will Presley and Colson be able to push past all of the barriers trying to prevent them from happening?

Warnings/Content: swearing, alcohol & marijuana usage, little tiny mention of smut, discussions of virginity (which is a social construct but I like it as a storyline sry), masturbation, col talking about his dick (he does that a lot in this fic, NOT sry)

Presley

After an hour or so of hanging out backstage, we all climb onto the tour bus and my eyes widen. Holy shit, this is nice. I look around as the guys find places to sit and grab drinks from the fridge. I’m the only girl here right now, and I find myself wishing Sadie could’ve come with me, but I had a security guy walk her to her car after the show. 

“Presley, drink?” Baze, the bass player asks.

“Um, what do you have?” I ask, taking a seat in an empty recliner.

“PBR, Jack Daniel’s, I think Kells has some wine—”

“Anything without alcohol?” I ask.

Baze looks over at me in surprise. “Oh. Sure. Coke, Monster, Mountain Dew—”

“Mountain Dew is perfect,” I reply. Baze hands me the can and I thank him, cracking it open. 

“Not really a drinker?” Baze asks as he has a seat, pouring some whiskey into a red cup.

I shake my head. “No. I much prefer smoking,” I say.

“By all means, girl, light up,” he says.

“I was just about to smoke a joint,” Rook says as he appears from the bunk area. “Want to share?”

“Sure,” I say, already feeling my anxiety ease knowing I’m going to smoke. 

Cash is in the shower and Justin sits on the couch on his phone. Slim climbs onto the bus and looks around. “We good to go? Where’s Kells?” Rook shrugs and Baze mutters that he doesn’t know. Slim sighs. “Can someone go look for him? I gotta get some more shit packed up.”

No one offers. Justin is now talking on the phone, and Rook and Baze are already well on their way to enjoying their night. I won’t deny a chance to see Colson. A second alone would be cool. “I’ll check,” I say.

“Thanks, Presley,” Slim says with a smile, then disappears off the bus. 

I get to my feet and weave through the bunk area, stopping for a second when I see my bags and pillow have found their way to a bunk. I push a button and a door slides open, leading to an area with two bathrooms and some other room. The bathroom Cash isn’t showering in is unoccupied and I frown, thinking he isn’t on the bus when I hear something creak in the room at the back.

I step closer and peer past the flimsy curtain that shields the room. The first thing I realize is that it’s a bedroom with a huge bed.

The second thing I realize is that Colson is on the bed. Deep inside a woman.

My eyes widen when they lock with Colson’s and I hurry from the room, squeaking out an apology as my cheeks burn. I don’t want to go out and face the others, so I lock myself in a bathroom to calm down. Fuck. My heart races.

I couldn’t see anything graphic, but I did see Colson behind that girl, one big hand flat on her lower back, hips moving in a way that made his abdomen ripple. His mouth hanging slightly open with pleasure, hair messy and eyes glassy. Shit, I did not need to know what that man looks like when he’s having sex. I squeeze my eyes closed. 

I’m in the bathroom so long that I’m sure someone’s going to start wondering. At that thought, my phone pings with a text from Cash. Found Kells! You good?

Yeah. I found him, too. I wash my hands and exit the bathroom, taking a deep breath before picking my way back to the main area of the bus.

Everyone’s there now, including Colson, but I don’t even look at him. I can’t bear to. I’m humiliated. I pick up my Mountain Dew and am immensely grateful when Rook passes me the joint. I take two huge puffs, cough, and settle back into the chair, praying the embarrassment and anxiety fade soon.

It does slightly, but all night, there’s a pinch of shame lingering within me. I can feel Colson trying to meet my eyes, but I refuse. I steal glances at him when he’s not looking, but I’m very careful not to meet his eyes. 

I’m irritated and a little disappointed. I thought he was flirting with me, but I guess I was stupid for thinking that. The woman is nowhere to be found, so she was probably just a fan he picked up for a one night stand. Why does that bother me so much?

Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I get up and go over to Cash, sitting next to him on the couch. “I’m gonna go to bed. I’m exhausted,” I lie.

“Alright,” Cash says. “Need anything?”

I shake my head. “Thanks. Night, everyone,” I say.

“Aw, you’re going to bed already?” Rook says.

“Party’s just begun,” Slim adds.

“Tomorrow, I promise. I’m just really tired,” I explain.

“Ight, fair. Tomorrow, then,” Rook says with a smile, and I smile back before disappearing into the bunk area. I fish through my suitcase for my bathroom bag and lock myself in the bathroom to remove my makeup, do my skincare, and brush my teeth. I change into a big t-shirt and some shorts and leave the bathroom, crashing right into someone’s bare chest.

Colson.

I look up at him, feeling my cheeks burn, and he stumbles backwards. “Shit, sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“It’s okay,” I say, looking away.

“Hey,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m really sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean for you to see—”

“No, I’m sorry,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “My fault.” I push past him and he lets me, but I feel his eyes on me all the way back to the bunk area. I climb into my bunk and slide the door shut, letting out a breath once I’m finally alone. Shit. 

I curl up under the blankets and try to let the gentle rumble of the bus on the road lull me to sleep. But every time I close my eyes, all I can see is Colson behind that girl. 

I’m not sure if it makes me angry, sick, turned on, or a combination of all three. But I don’t like that it makes me feel anything at all.

XX

I have another confession to make. I’m a virgin.

No one knows. Not my closest girlfriends, not the guys I’ve tried to date, no one. I guess you could say I have intimacy issues.

I actually dated quite a bit in high school. I had a date for every school dance, including the two times I went to prom. I just never did anything with any of them. We never even got to the boyfriend-girlfriend stage. We made out, of course, but we never went further. 

For some reason, my biggest fear in the world is letting someone see me naked.

I can be in a skimpy bikini. A tiny dress, shorts so short they basically show my asscheeks. But I hate being seen in underwear, and no one other than family has seen me naked. I almost chickened out of getting my nipples pierced because I was so uncomfortable, but I pushed through. The longer I go without anyone seeing me, the worse it gets. 

I have no idea where the fear comes from. Nothing traumatic happened to me. In fact, my parents have a great marriage and I had a good experience in high school. All through school, actually. There should be no reason why I’m so afraid. But I am, and it gets worse the older I get. 

Even if Colson was flirting with me, what the hell am I going to do about it? He’s the type of guy that fucks random girls. He doesn’t settle down. He doesn’t date. There’s no way he’d see me and decide he wants to date me, and even if somehow he did, he would get tired of waiting to do things other than kissing. It would never, ever happen. I’m actually pretty resolved to being alone forever. 

I barely slept last night. I was awake all night stewing about what I’d walked into. I’m jealous of the girl, and not because she was having sex with Colson. How is she so comfortable in herself that she’d let a stranger get her naked? Touch her? Make her moan? I envy that level of confidence. So many women seem to have it but not me. 

Guys have tried. It’s not that no one wants me because I know they do. I don’t know if it’s the tattoos, the fact that I’m a piercer, or the fact that I play guitar and sing, but I’ve had many, many guys try to pursue me. Every time, I turn them down. I’ve gone on a few dates and ghosted them all, too afraid to open up. It’s exhausting and embarrassing and I say no whenever anyone asks for a date now. I just can’t do it. 

I feel better when I realize Colson will never get anywhere with me. He’ll give up fast. That means I don’t even need to worry about him. I can continue with this harmless little crush, enjoy my time on tour, and go back to normal life when this is all over.

It’s going to be totally fine. 

Colson

Do I feel like a total asshole for what happened with Presley? Of course I do.

The whole point of fucking that girl was to get Presley off my mind. I didn’t expect her to walk in and catch us. Of course I feel like a total dick. 

I feel even worse when she doesn’t even look at me for the rest of the night. I’m sure it made her uncomfortable. Fuck, I feel uncomfortable. I don’t give a fuck if the boys walk in on me. It’s happened more times than I can count on two hands. I’m a bit of an exhibitionist, I’ll admit. But no girl has ever walked in on me with someone until now, and it sucks.

I don’t sleep until we arrive at the hotel, and by now, the sun is coming up. But my stomach is too knotted for me to be able to relax. All I can think about is Presley in her bunk. Part of me wants to be the one to let her know we’ve made it to the hotel, but she made it clear that she can’t even look at me, so I slink off the bus and keep my head down as I walk into the hotel lobby.

Ten minutes later, I’m finally showering. The tour bus showers are too small for me, the shower head hitting below my shoulder, so there’s no point in even trying to shower on the bus unless I absolutely have to. I let my head hang down as the warm water streams over my hair, and I sigh. Why do I care so much about what this girl thinks? Cash told me to stay away from her, and I can’t risk fucking anything up with him. The band needs him. He’s amazing. 

As if I don’t already feel bad enough, I can’t keep her out of my fucking head, can’t stop picturing her in that short, leather skirt that fit her perfectly. Those legs. Jesus Christ. I huff softly in annoyance as my cock starts to fill. Never have I ever felt guilty about wanting a girl before. This shit sucks. 

I feel like a teenager as I get myself off to nothing but thoughts of a girl I’ve only ever seen fully clothed and have never touched. It doesn’t take long; in fact, it’s embarrassingly quick. I’m glad I’m alone.

After Presley walked in on us, I didn’t finish. I immediately got dressed and walked the girl off the bus. It only occurs to me now as I turn off the shower that I never even got her name. That’s low, even for me. 

Feeling like utter shit, I brush my teeth, moisturize my face, and crawl into bed naked, hoping I can just pass the fuck out. No such luck. After an hour of tossing and turning, I throw the blankets off with a curse and get dressed. I need to find some coffee and quick.

In the hallway, I find Rook leaving his room, too. He looks just as exhausted as I feel. “Can’t sleep?” I ask him.

“Nah,” Rook says, shaking his head. 

“I was gonna find some coffee,” I say. “Wanna join me?”

“Sure.”

I text Reed, letting him know that Rook and I are grabbing coffee, and he meets us in the lobby. There’s a coffee shop nearby and we walk there in silence. It’s barely seven in the morning on a Sunday, so the place is pretty deserted. Rook and I both get gigantic iced coffees and tuck ourselves into a booth in the back of the shop. Reed finds a table nearby and pulls out his phone. 

“You look like shit,” Rook says.

I give him a sour look and chug down some coffee. “Thanks, bro. Appreciate it,” I mumble.

Rook flicks his braids out of his face. “I mean you look upset,” he says. 

I sigh and twist my straw, watching the ice cubes move around. I trust Rook. But I don’t talk about my feelings with fucking anyone. Only in my songs. “I’m fine,” I say. “I just feel like a dick.”

“Why?” Rook asks, taking a bite of the muffin he purchased.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache start to throb behind my eyes. “Cash’s sister walked in on me and that girl last night.”

“What?” Rook hisses, eyes widening. “You serious? Does Cash know?”

“Fuck no!” I reply, shaking my head. “And I hope she doesn’t tell him. It was an accident.”

Rook considers this as he sips some more coffee. “Wait, why are you so upset about this?” He asks. “Shit, I myself have walked in on you at least ten times.”

He’s not wrong. “I dunno,” I admit with a shrug. “Just feel like shit. She’s not just a random person. She’s Cash’s sister, you know? Don’t want to make her uncomfortable while she’s here with us.”

I meet Rook’s eyes for a moment and there’s a weird glow about them. Like he’s speculating. I don’t like it. “What?” I ask defensively. 

“You into her?” Rook asks me.

“Fuck, dude,” I huff, looking away from him. “She’s Cash’s sister.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Doesn’t matter if I am or not,” I say after a moment. “Cash told us she’s off-limits.”

Rook shrugs, then nods. “How long is she with us?”

I shrug, too. “I don’t know. I told Cash it didn’t matter how long she wanted to stay.”

Rook shakes his head. “I haven’t seen you like this since—”

“Enough,” I say firmly, jaw clenching as I lock eyes with him.

Rook holds up his hands in surrender. “Sorry,” he says quietly. “Sorry.”

I finish off my coffee way too quickly and push to my feet. Rook isn’t done yet, but he wraps up his muffin, grabs his coffee, and follows my lead. I stalk back to the hotel, not talking to him or Reed. I need to be alone. I don’t like how well Rook can read me. 

Locked in my hotel room once again, I lay on my back in bed, staring at the ceiling. The coffee churns in my empty stomach, which isn’t helping the anxiety already aching there. I know what I have to do to survive while Presley is on tour with us. I need to just keep getting laid. I just can’t let her catch me again. 

Also, I could just be her friend. That’s what I’m supposed to do anyway. And that has to start with an apology. 

XX

When we get to the venue, I wait for Presley and Cash to get out of their car. Cash, who’s basically a golden retriever, is distracted by his excitement to get inside, and he leaves Presley behind. 

My heart stutters a little when I see her. She wears jeans today, but they fit her like a dream, and the black top she wears hints at a gorgeous pair of tits. Platform Nikes on her feet complete the look and such a simple outfit shouldn’t turn me on so goddamn much. This friendship thing is going to be more difficult than I anticipated.

“Hey, Presley,” I say, intercepting her as she walks towards the door. She adjusts her purse on her shoulder, and I can tell instantly that she’s uncomfortable. She chews that plush bottom lip and avoids my eyes. 

“Listen, I’m really sorry about last night,” I say. She continues to look past me. “Shit. Will you please. Just. Look at me?” I sound like I’m begging. God. Finally, her eyes lift to mine. I swallow hard. “It was totally an accident. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” she finally says, her perfect brows furrowing together. “I’m the one who walked in on you.”

I shrug. “It’s all good,” I assure her. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me. I’m glad you’re here. It makes Cash happy and I’m excited for us all to get to know you.”

She seems to relax, even just slightly, but it’s everything to me. She nods and smiles softly. “Okay. Thanks for talking to me,” she says. “We’re good.”

“Okay. Cool,” I say. “Let’s go inside.”

We walk side by side. “This is crazy,” Presley says.

“How do you mean?” I ask, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans. 

She shrugs, looking up at the venue. “Just going backstage in a huge venue like this. I never imagined I’d be here. Let alone Cash.”

“Cash says you play in a few bands?” I ask.

Presley nods, tucking a piece of black hair behind her ear, revealing tons of piercings. “Yeah, just a few local bands. It’s nothing too serious.”

“You play…guitar?” I ask.

“And sing,” Presley says. “I’m alright. Cash, though. I mean, I don’t have to tell you. You know how talented he is.”

I nod. “Yeah. He’s unreal,” I agree. “I swear I learn something from him every time we play together.”

Presley smiles warmly, eyes crinkling. “Yeah. I’m so proud of him. This is just wild,” she says thoughtfully. “Thank you.” She looks up at me. “Thank you for noticing him and giving him this chance.”

“Shit, we should be thanking him,” I say. “I can’t wait to start recording our next album with him. We can be so much more dynamic with his guitar skills.”

She nods and smiles. I open the door for her and do my very best not to check out her ass as she walks inside, but I’m only human, and that thing is too perfect not to notice. 

“I have to head to sound check, but there’s always food backstage. Drinks. Help yourself to anything, alright?” I tell her.

“Thanks, Colson,” she says, and I like the way my name sounds on her lips. I wave and head off towards the stage. I’m not as anxious anymore, thank god. This is going to be just fine.

[quiltedpomegrantes]

Do you have any headcanons on what Wren, Alex and Whitney would be like in a relationship? I feel slightly ashamed I have so many ideas.

I have a lot, a ton, a million.

Male pronouns for the LI, female for the protag.

Wren is definitely not a good romantic partner, at least not at first. He's the type to want to sleep around. He'll always be apart from you with his jobs. But, holy fuck is he good at sex. You'll see him stare at others, driving you mad, however god forbid anyone even glances in your direction though. His fist will be connecting with their face before they can even look away. Wren's the type to need at least one part of himself touching you. Whether it's his hand on your thigh while he drives, or fully having you, sitting on his lap, in front of everyone he knows.

The Wren we see in game is young. I imagine him to be in his twenties, probably 25-28. But then, as he gets older, as you two settle down, he'll become the man you want. The kind that's always comes home to sleep in your bed. He's a tad old fashioned, wants you bringing him dinner every night. That's just how he was raise.

100% raised in the country. Few grades above Alex, probably went to school with their older siblings. Unpleasant childhood. His previous partners typically weren't serious, not like how he's serious with you. Every time Wren introduces you to someone new, you can tell if they've been together, carnally at least. It's all in the way they look at you. Whether it's how they look you up and down, evaluating your assets, or its how they always seem to "forget" your name. Nothing's ever gotten physical, perhaps only due to Wren's refusal to leave your side. Despite being constantly pulled away, when he's there, he'll want nothing more than to be with you.

-----------------------

Alex. My favorite. They want to take it slow. Not quite virginal, but sometimes it feels that way. His previous partners don't come up much, but when they do, they're typically from high school. Silly little girlfriends that he never got quite to third base with. But a few of the construction workers are a tad too friendly with him, and the cute young waitress at the diner seems to be a little too excited to see him. While he never fully takes a day off, for your birthday, the day will always start late, end early. His presents are typically practical. He's not great with his words, and he's never been particularly romantic but he's always trying to be thoughtful.

From the moment you two entered into a relationship beyond just fucking and flirting, you were his. His woman, his wife. Forever and always.

He wants to provide for you. Take care of you. Even if he doesn't take a lunch break, yours always come on time. Even if you insist. Nothing short of you bringing it to him will make him stop working. Granted, he eats like a pig during dinner. Always wants seconds and thirds.

He's a little bit of an alcoholic. Sometimes if you've been out for the evening, you'll come home to a slurring partner. One that can't help but slip his hands into your jeans or up your shirt. Alex's libido is uncontrollable at moments. Aggressive. Hips pounding into you, handprint bruises on your waist. Hairpulling and name calling.

Alex does want kids. But, until you two fully get rid of Remy, he can't justify having them. His biggest fear is Remy scaring you off, or worse. Sometimes, after an attack, he ends up just staring at you. Slightly afraid, extremely grateful you're there.

(Alex saves his cowboy hat for more formal occasions or riding, whereas Wren wears his all the tip. Wear the cowboy's hat, ride the cowboy.)

----------------------------

Whitney, my latest obsession. He's not the type to really do relationships. But he is, with you. Doesn't bring presents for holidays or your birthdays, but he'll remember them. Every Halloween, Valentine, and birthdays must be spent with him. Typically, presents, from you to him or him to you, are sexual. Whether it's your virginity for Christmas, or him eating you out for Valentines day. However, then you two graduate. You two move into a tiny apartment on the industrial side of town. Then, one Christmas, there's a present under the tree. It wasn't anything ornate or grand. Simply a necklace with his initial on it.

But it made you tear up a little bit. Made you two feel real, like the relationship just wasn't a fleeting fascination for him. You also cried over the guilt you had for not getting him a present. He was stumbling and stuttering, unsure of why you were crying. Years later he told you that he thought you cried out of hatred for the present.

From that point forward, there was always something under the tree. Or a box of chocolates waiting at home. And candles on the birthday cake.

He's never the touchy feely type. Honestly, his libido isn't egregious either. But when he wants you, best believe that he is going to have you. Even if he has to take it from you. You two have probably fucked in every bathroom around town.

Fights are explosive, emotional, over the top affairs that lead to slamming doors and cold, empty beds. But you two will always find yourselves back together. Maybe with a few sheepish apologies. You two haven't spent more than two nights apart since moving in together, and at this point, you never think you will.

Eventually, both of you will end up with a tattoo that signifies the other. He's a tattoo fiend. Only a few piercings. I'd imagine him as a mechanic.

[erinfern0]

7 minutes in heaven

fwb!gaz x gn!reader

- gender neutral anatomy, only pronouns used are you etc.

summary: you made this agreement out of frustration but none of you seem to regret it. in fact - both of you seem to want even more than just fwb situation.

warnings: talk of virginity/virginity loss, semi-public, mutual masturbation, friends with benefits, alcohol use, weed use, collage party.

You were friends since the beginning of middle school, so most people just assumed you were a couple, but as much as you and him wished – you were pretty far from that.

Yeah, you made that agreement back when you were both just starting to experience the real adult life. You were always there for each other, it was only logical you also help each other in other ways.

You brought it up first, wanting to lose your 'virginity' with the only man you trusted enough to do it, secretly crushing on him for years before you decided to tell him. He was shocked, to say the least, and flattered too. It never occurred to him before that you might put so much of that trust into him, but he couldn't have it any other way. It felt right that he would be the one and only to do it.

Especially, that both of you shared the opinion that virginity was just a social construct and is not as important as people make it to be. Unfortunately, you live in a society that puts pressure on people to feel like it's this whole big deal. You were also tired of listening to your friends bragging or complaining about their first times. You wanted to finally know what all the fuss is about.

Your conversation was awkward, as they mostly are between two young adults who have little to no experience and sex topics. Well, you agreed on something. Whenever you want to experience something new, release some stress, or just have fun, you'll be there for each other. For the first couple of years it was truly simple. A couple of cuddles and kisses through rougher moments of your life. You were actually very grateful you told him about your idea.

The first time you did something more intimate was when you were both invited to a college party. You two, being too drunk and too high to care about a thing in the world. You started making out and, thanks to the encouragement of your peers – you ended up closed in a separate bedroom together for the magical '7 minutes in heaven' game.

The first two minutes, you just talked. Trying to ease the growing tension between the two of you, feeling his gaze piercing straight through your body. You felt warm, a little too warm to notice how easily his hand slid under your shirt to feel the soft skin of your stomach, just slowly caressing it to feel every single curve or distinguishing feature about it. You stopped half-word to look down at his hand but froze, seeing how he was palming himself through his pants at the same time.

"Keep talking, please." he whispered, hovering against you for his mouth to find your neck, leaving tiny kisses all over it just the way you liked. But this time wasn't as sweet and innocent as all the other ones. His lips started a slow and sloppy trail of wet spots all over your sensitive skin, looking for the most vulnerable places.

You were getting warmer, especially between your legs, aching to be touched, but you complied. He needed you and as the agreement said – you were supposed to be there for him. It felt slightly wrong to do it in a messy room, with a bunch of drunk people behind the wall. It also felt rushed and stressful to do it, knowing how little time you two had for each other.

But you did exactly as he asked of you, kept talking. At first, just about this whole situation and how weird it was that you were put in a room together like this. You laughed a little just thinking how silly it was of you two to accept the challenge. When you noticed how he reacted to your voice, you couldn't help but change the topic.

You started shyly guiding his hands over your body with your words, allowing one of his hands to travel over the plush of your thighs while the other took care of his throbbing member. You could see the outline of him through his boxers, and you could easily tell he was pretty big and so painfully hard. Just for you, for your voice and body. You could already sense this was far beyond the agreement. You not only needed each other. You craved each other.

Your mind was getting dizzier every second, allowing him to do more and more, slowly losing yourself to the feeling entirely, joining him. You pushed your hand down under your pants and smiled, quietly whimpering as you tried to match his pace.

And he made it a challenge for you to come sooner than him. He kept pumping his cock in his fist faster or slower, depending on how close you were – he could wait. And when you finally did cum after endless minutes of edging, he straight up kissed you while cumming in his underwear, moaning into your mouth. None of you seemed to notice that your friends didn't come back for you after the seven minutes had passed.

After you came back to your house, you couldn't stop thinking about everything that happened. Despite all the beer and joints you shared with him, you remembered the night quite well. At least, your body remembered it.

Your eyes remembered the way he looked, so breathtaking as he stroked himself to you. Your nose remembered the smell of his cologne and beer he had drunk, fitting the party scene well. Your ears remembered his soft encouragements and whispers of your name as he kept himself on the edge for you or the way his breath shuddered as he came. Your hands remembered the way you held his shoulder and forearm while he was cumming, just enough to remind him how close you were. And your tongue still remembered the taste of his lips over yours.

Everything in your head kept repeating his name, but a sudden realization crushed you as soon as you lied down in your bed the following night. He probably doesn't remember a thing, since he had way more alcohol than you. A quiet whine left your lips as you covered your warm face with a pillow. You kept it there until you heard the familiar sound of a notification coming from your phone. You sighed and looked at it with a frown on your brows as you read over the message that was now stuck in your head.

"Can't stop thinking about you. Let me know if you want to do it properly this time,

Kyle."

And you sure as hell wanted it as much as he did.

Remember that virginity issue you had at the beginning of your agreement? Well, let's just say it was gone before midnight, and it was way better than what your friends made you think. Kyle made sure you were comfortable and relaxed the whole time, which made you love him even more.

masterlist | request info | kinktober 23

[lesinquietes]

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[naviculariis]

Kidd: 1,4,8 Killer: 5,9,11 Penguin: 3,6,14

Hoo boy aight let's go.

Kidd:

1: What is your muse’s sexuality?

-Eustass is bisexual! ( and a virgin- )

4: Do they like to listen to any music or are they more of a fan of silence during the act?

-Oooh, honestly?? it entirely depends on the time & place. Sometimes, he just likes to listen.

8: Are they polite or do they have a dirty mouth?

-It's Eustass Fuckin’ Kidd, what do you expect? His mouth is awful.

[ “Look at the way you're stretched around my cock, gods above- I cannae believe yer still so tigh’, ‘s like ye were made fer me to fuck.” ]

Killer:

5: Is your muse a top, bottom, or a switch? Why?

-Kil's a switch. He enjoys both!! No real preference, either. It's genuinely whatever his partner is feeling more. They wanna be a pillow princess? Fuck yeah, he'll treat them like one. They want to wrap his hair around their fist and have their way with him? Shit, he's arching his back for them.

9: Do they get embarrassed easily when it comes to nsfw things? Or are they shameless?

-It's so silly. He gets flustered when WEARING the helmet- all blushy and whatnot. Without it? This motherfucker is the most shameless person to exist. Why? He isn't sure. Maybe its because he's already comfortable enough around his partner to remove the helmet in the first place.

11: Are they a virgin? When did they lose their virginity? If they haven’t, do you think they ever will? Are they waiting for someone special, or do they just not care?

-Not a virgin, but also doesn't believe in the construct of virginity. His first was with someone he did know, though he isn't up to necessarily airing that bit out. Definitely well versed in the act, though.

Penguin:

3: Where does your muse’s libido fall on the scale? 10 being hyper-sexual, 1 being the opposite.

-Solid 6. A little bit above the normal, but not hypersexual.

6: Are they dominant or submissive?

-Dominant. Penguin doesn't understand what it means to be submissive, unfortunately.

14: Give us a random sinday headcanon or fact about your muse!

-It's the Selkie part of him, but GOD does he love seeing something of his on his partner- or smelling his scent on them. Seeing them in his shirt? Has him grabbing them by the hips and dragging them closer. His hat? He's picturing what they'll look like while he's making them scream. His SCENT? UGH. Nosing at their throat, their cheek, murmuring about how good they smell, pressing kisses to that sensitive spot beneath their ear…