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megamindsecretlair · 4 months

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Mr. Black, Part 6

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FLUFF. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), oral (male and fem receiving) , spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, mentions of female anatomy, dumbass reader, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.

Summary: Tre has an unexpected surprise for you that leads to even more conversations about...whatever the hell this is between you. You do end up loving the surprise and you get a bigger peak inside that gorgeous head of his.

Word Count: 10,614k

A/N: I promise not all of my fics will be this long moving forward! This was the most self-indulgent fic I've ever written and it healed something in me LOL. As an update, I had Covid this past week and I'm just getting my strength back. Please be kinder to your faves! I am over the moon that you enjoy my works and look forward to the next chapter, but let's keep it cute. My family are my opps and do not like to see me happy. If ya'll only knew what I had to endure writing this...These updates will take time. And I'm doing this for free! This is a hobby! I'm not a smut machine. Let's stay mindful of that. To prove you actually read this far, put your fave fruit in the comments! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

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The week between Christmas and New Year’s was a lawless haze spent mostly in Tre’s bed. You hadn’t seen your place all week and it should bother you. There was no mention of it. There was no conversation to be had. He just kept inviting you back to his place and you kept saying yes.

He got you a hygiene kit complete with a Coach bag to put it in. You told him you could just pack something from your place, but he wouldn’t hear of it. You had your very own electric toothbrush sitting on his sink.

Every time you went to the bathroom, you stared at the thing as if it could come alive at any moment. It was a courtesy thing, nothing more. It didn’t mean you were moving in. You were quickly realizing that Tre might’ve lacked proper social skills. With all his big talk, he lacked the cues necessary to clue you into whatever the fuck was going on with him.

He couldn’t possibly think that he could get you a hygiene kit, keep pajamas over - not that you used them much - and you would just smile and wave and move into his fucking house?!

The past week, he had kept you in a near-permanent sex fog. He still ate you out at work, stating that he simply liked the taste of you on his tongue while he dealt with the company hemorrhaging money at an alarming rate. He told you that your sweet taste made dealing with idiot managers worth every solid minute.

He still had you suck him off in the morning, stating that he loved nothing more than pumping you full of him to start your day. He was able to work harder and smarter with empty balls and thoughts of what he was going to do to you later at his place.

There wasn’t enough time to really talk. There was this burning obsession with each other that didn’t seem to let up as the week went on. Every time you finished having sex, you wanted to crawl under his skin and do it all over again. You couldn’t get him out of your system. In between sex marathons, him cooking, and your conversations about interests, there wasn’t enough time to discuss the whole…headband situation.

You sat at your desk presently and your eyes kept flickering towards the front of the building. You couldn’t see much past the desks and chairs. The thought of Miss Headband returning made you ill. You were comfortable with the knowledge that Tre was yours in whatever capacity this was, but uncomfortable that Brianna thought she could walk in whenever she wanted.

What stopped any of his other conquests from walking through the door? Or calling you to set up dick appointments with him? You hadn’t been working for him long but you wouldn't be surprised if he had past assistants schedule such things.

Your nails tapped on your desk. Your jealousy was showing. And it didn’t suit you well to show it at work where anyone could see. You needed to put an end to the uncertainty. If Tre had a black book, he needed to burn it right this second. He wasn’t going to need it anymore.

Panic was a funny thing. Sometimes, it felt like a bubbling pot of oil sludging through your veins. Sometimes, it felt like a thousand tiny insects with wings fluttering beneath your skin. You felt a mixture of both as you checked your mental status.

Maybe Tre was rubbing off on you too much. Your friends had said you were turning distant lately. You usually told them everything, but how did you even begin to describe what the hell this was?

It started off as something hot and naughty between you and your boss. Everyone had that fantasy right? Being railed against an office desk until your eyes were crossing and you were screaming in pleasure?

All your life, you thought there was a schedule and order to these things. You meet a man, you go on a few dates, you explore interests together, and you date some more. You meet the friends and get their stamp of approval. Then it’s the family’s turn. You move in with each other to see if you could cohabit a space together. Perhaps get an animal together to see if you can take care of a living thing as a precursor to kids. Then, there’s some wholly romantic and unique proposal with the help of your friends or family. A wedding, a honeymoon, boom, pop out some kids and build a life together.

This was so fuckin’ backwards, you didn’t know where to start besides him swatting your ass. There have been no dates, just earth-shattering, world-ending orgasms, a few items at his place, and you left in a perpetual state of what-the-fuck?

Order and schedules made sense to you. It kept you on track. This…was messy as hell.

You sighed audibly and rubbed your head. It was too much thinking and it was giving you a fuckin’ headache.

“What’s wrong?”

You yelped and jumped in your seat. The chair went rolling to the left as you looked to the right to see Tre half sitting on your desk. Where the fuck did he come from?

“You scared the hell outta me!” You placed your hand against your chest to see how fast it was going.

“Maybe you should stop daydreaming at work,” he said with that damn smirk on his face.

You rolled your eyes. “I wasn’t daydreaming, I was thinking,” you told him.

He sighed audibly and hung his head. “Nothing good ever comes from you overthinking,” he said.

“Shut up. It’s not overthinking. Logic calms me down,” you said.

His smirk returned. “I can think of something else that’ll calm you down,” he said.

“Shh!” You looked around the empty office. It was lunchtime and sunny outside, so everyone went out to the food trucks to take advantage of the warm weather. Still, you had to be cautious from anyone who might overhear.

You moved to stand up but Tre blocked your path. “Not hungry?” You asked.

Tre smiled and looked off into the distance. He took a few steadying breaths and looked back at you. “Got you on a schedule already,” he said.

Now it was your turn to look away with a goofy grin on your face. His words brought to mind something Brianna mentioned.

“Hey, what did Brianna mean by 'training me’?” You asked.

“I’ll explain all that. First, let’s go. We’re gonna be late,” he said.

“Late for what?” You asked. You turned to your computer, bringing up his schedule. The weekend had been blocked out without you noticing. He had no meetings or calls set up. “What is this?”

You clicked through the change history but Tre put his hand over yours to stop you. “It’s okay, I handled it.”

“Handled it? I’m the one that handles your schedule! When did you do this?” You asked. You literally had one job and you were too distracted this week to notice that he had been shuffling and moving things around.

You tried to picture him being sneaky and dealing with other assistants while he moved meetings. You pictured getting a random call from someone with a voice like his. A voice made for phone sex and your panties were already growing damp thinking about it. Yeah, he could finagle his way through just about anything if he had half a mind.

“Come on!” He grinned and pulled you from your seat. You had just enough time to grab your purse. He held your hand as he pulled you through the empty office. Panic jumbled your nerves. Instead of pulling you to the front of the building where the food trucks were, he pulled you to the back of the building.

You knew there was a back of the building, conceptually, but you didn’t know there was an entrance this way. You were hired in the mix of things and you didn’t get an official tour before diving in and picking up the slack.

There was nobody back here as he swiped his badge and you were let out into a parking lot. It was small, filled with only a few expensive cars.

“You have a private parking area? Ya’ll suck,” you giggled.

Tre tugged you towards his car. You weren’t good with car brands but you were pretty sure it was a Lexus SUV. He opened the door for you and motioned for you to get in.

“What about my car?” You asked.

“I took care of it,” he said with that damn smile.

“What the hell is going on?” You asked. You placed your hands on your hips and faced him completely.

Instead of answering, Tre looked at his watch. “You have about two minutes before the other managers pull in and see you hopping in my car. I’m sure they will have thoughts about it,” he said.

Your fear of being discovered was greater than your need for knowledge. You could needle him in the car. You hopped inside with his help and then he closed the door with instructions to put your seatbelt on. You rolled your eyes and did it, not because he said so, but because it was sensible.

Tre rounded the front of the black truck and hopped in himself. He sighed with a smug smile on his face and started the car. His windows were tinted well past the legal limit. But you had a feeling he just didn’t give a shit.

He pulled out of the parking lot just as a smaller sedan was pulling in. You sank down in the seat but Tre only chuckled at you. Clear of the parking lot, he swiftly pulled onto the freeway.

“Okay, I’m in the car. What the hell is going on?”

“You know, you’re cute as hell when you’re confused. You get a little crinkle in your nose,” he said. He sped up on the mostly clear freeway and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re not going to tell me no matter how many times I ask, huh?” You asked.

He grinned and flicked his eyes to you. “Look at you catching on,” he said.

You growled and folded your arms across your chest. You turned away from him as much as you could in the seat and looked outside the window at the passing cars and freeway signs. You could tell that you were heading North but anything could be North.

“I promise you’ll like the surprise,” he said.

“I don’t like not knowing what’s going on,” you said.

“I know. I’ll break you of that,” he said.

“Excuse me?” You flipped your head to look at him but he kept his eyes trained on the road. One hand was on the steering wheel and he slowly inched his other hand towards your thigh. He squeezed the bare skin, his pinkie lightly grazing your pink dress.

You hated that your body reacted instantly. Your pussy fluttered and you were going to be damp in a minute thinking about that hand and all the nasty things he’s done so far.

“I don’t repeat myself,” he said.

You could be petty and point out that he’s repeated some things to you. But if he wanted to keep up his little fantasy, you weren’t going to cure him of it. As much as you liked to test his boundaries, you still had handprints on your ass from the last time you tried to get cute.

You focused on just being able to breathe while his thumb rubbed your left thigh. Soft music played in the car, low enough to not be annoying, but high enough to get the general rhythm.

The sights turned more industrial as you headed towards…LAX? Was he taking you to the fucking airport?

He got off the ramp for it, circling around, and headed towards the entrance on Century. He joined the congested traffic as he took the ramp to departures.

You huffed in disbelief. “You have to be joking. Where are we going? I haven’t packed, I haven’t got any supplies, I haven’t told anyone. I can’t–”

“I had a lovely chat with your friend, Ka’ron, the other day. She’s a little mad you didn’t tell her about me. I’ll admit, I was a little hurt too,” he said. He talked as he maneuvered around the insane traffic at LAX. It was like people lost all sense of decorum at the airport. People weaved in and out with little regard to who was behind or beside them. They had no idea which terminal to get to or realize that they couldn’t park at the curb forever.

Buses and shuttles ran through the inner road of the airport. You still hated that they changed the flow of traffic. It seemed much more dangerous to have you stand at the outer curb to be picked up. And the construction for the incoming train was plain annoying.

“You talked to Ka’ron?!” You screeched. Too many questions flowed through your head. How did he get her number? What did he even tell her? What the hell was this?

“I told her that I wanted to surprise you with a trip and after she got done laughing at the surprise part, she helped me pack your bags this week.”

Your eyes bugged out of your head. Your friend was going to murder you. After she got done begging for every last scrap of detail she could get out of you, she was going to murder you for not telling her sooner.

“You have crossed so many–”

“I also bought you new travel bags. I didn’t care that they didn’t match, but they were really raggedy,” he said. He pulled into long-term parking, grabbing a ticket from the kiosk, and the metal arm raised. He pulled in and began the search for a good spot.

Gurgles of sounds escaped your throat but you couldn’t form a single sentence. Were you having a heart attack? Aneurysm? Were your blood vessels popping at this very instant?

“She helped me find your passport,” he said. He turned and backed into the parking space.

In the middle of your meltdown, you could appreciate the slip of skin at his neck as he looked backwards to park. It was somehow hotter that he didn’t solely rely on the back-up camera. You’d dreamt of that open collar enough times to call yourself a stalker at this point.

“Passport?!” Where the hell was he taking you? You weren’t going to say no to a free fucking trip. You weren’t that dumb. It was…the lack of consideration that bugged you. The fact that he’d been planning and plotting while he had you twisted up in all kinds of shapes no human body was meant to be contorted into.

Or perhaps…it was a control thing. You were without an anchor or foothold in this. You didn’t see this coming at all. You had no say over where you were going, when you were leaving, when your friends would know about him, what they would know about him, what you would wear, or do. It was beyond unnerving.

Tre shut off the car and got out, leaving no room for you to ask a thousand questions. You were still in your office attire for fuck’s sake? Not the most comfortable traveling outfit. There was no way in hell you were going through TSA in fucking heels.

He rounded the car and opened your door for you, letting you out with a smug wink. He really didn’t see anything wrong with whisking you off to some exotic place without a conversation first. Had there been even a tiny ounce of communication beforehand, you wouldn’t be quite so shocked and pissed.

Next, Tre went to the trunk and lifted the door, pulling out a rose gold London Fog suitcase and a complementary Coach duffle bag. Your mouth dropped open. It was so gorgeous, you drooled a bit as he pulled out his own black suitcase and duffle bag. He moved both to the side and then handed you a more personal bag.

“Move your things from your purse to that. We’ll put your purse in the trunk,” he said. You stared at him like he was some alien with four heads.

He smiled and stepped closer to you, pulling you by the hips flush against him. You refused to give him any indication that this shit was okay. But he kissed your forehead, then your cheek, and pecked your lips.

“Trust me. It’ll be good,” he said.

You pressed your lips together and decided to surrender for the time being. Your boss…lover…boyfriend…was taking you somewhere and you didn’t have to lift a finger. There were worse arguments to be had.

The personal bag looked like a smaller version of the duffle. You ran your hands over the soft fabric filled with tiny C’s and then opened it. Inside, there was your Kindle, various meds you may need, head scarf, sleep mask, and ear pods. There was also a brand new matching wallet that you transferred your ID and cards to. This whole thing was absurd but you let yourself enjoy it.

Once done, he took your purse and placed it in the trunk in an innocuous box and closed it. “We’ll change in the lounge,” he said.

Your eyes bugged out again but he wasn’t going to answer a single fucking question so you let him grab your bags and walked over to the bridge connecting you to the terminal. There, he wheeled your bags to the check in counter. He pulled out both of your passports and handed them over to the agent.

She was an attractive Black woman with her hair pulled into a bun. She openly ogled your man so you moved next to him and peered over his shoulder. “Make sure I have the window seat, baby. You know I like to look outside when we take off,” you said and grinned at him, not looking at the woman at all.

Tre smirked down at you. He placed his hand on the small of your back and leaned down to kiss your cheek and then whispered in your ear. “You’re so sexy when you’re jealous.”

The woman cleared her throat and finished taking the necessary steps to check in your suitcases with a much better, more professional attitude. You made sure to smile and thank her while he grabbed your duffle bags and personal bag from the counter. He scooped up your passports and tickets and tucked them into his bag. Then, he grabbed your hand and you moved on to the security line.

Getting through that was a headache all on its own, but once through, Tre pulled you towards a lounge. You knew they existed, you just never had the luxury of being inside one. It was quiet with muted lighting and a bar area where people sat for drinks and the latest game on TV.

As he said, there were bathrooms and he told you there was a travel outfit in your bag. You stood in the fancy bathroom, half-giggling like a madwoman as you changed out of your dress into more comfortable clothing. You now had on black leggings, tennis shoes, a loose gray shirt, and a light gray sweater. That had been most of the bulk in your duffle, so you had room to fold up your dress. The heels were a bit of a problem, but that was okay. If they got messed up, you were making him buy you a new pair. And you’d only feel slightly guilty about it.

After dressing, you went out into the lounge area. You skipped over Tre twice, not because you didn’t recognize him, but because you were surprised to see him outside of formal wear. Sure, you’d seen him lounge at home in his briefs, or the pajamas he wore to cook, but you had never seen him out and about in his element.

He wore black, of course, but it was a black Henley T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black jeans, black boots, and his glasses. He looked good enough to fucking eat and you had to stop just outside the door to admire how hot he was.

He was looking down at his phone so he hadn’t seen you walk out. But as if you were linked, he looked up at that moment and grinned. You walked over to the bar area and he grabbed your bags from you.

He grabbed your hands and opened them so he could take in your outfit. “You look so fucking gorgeous,” he said.

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” you said.

He held out the bar stool for you and helped you settle in. There was already a strawberry margarita sitting there for you and you sipped it, letting the frozen treat relax you. “Our plane leaves in an hour so you have time to finish,” he said.

“Any hint to where we’re going?” You asked.

He shrugged and sipped on his whiskey. “You’ll see at the gate,” he said.

“The only thing you can’t hide from me,” you said.

He grinned. “I could if I really wanted to. Make you wear your earphones the whole trip.”

“I can see the board,” you said.

“Not if I didn’t want you to,” he said.

You threw up your hands. “You know how insane this is right? Calling my friend, planning this behind my back, ambushing me in the middle of the work day? Where do people think you are?”

“I am on my way to a conference for potential clients. Since I’m such an awesome boss, I gave you the weekend to spend with your family,” he said.

“No one’s going to buy that,” you said with a giggle. You wouldn’t buy that shit if you heard it.

“They have no proof to the contrary. I know my methods are off, but I know a few ways you can thank me on the plane. I always wanted to join the mile high club,” he said and eyed your outfit. “Maybe we should’ve gone with something easier to take off.”

You slapped his thick arm. “Not on your life,” you said. The tips of your ears burned just thinking of it. Those tiny ass bathrooms ensured there was no way two people could fit. And you were not sucking him off in first class. He was too damn big for any other seating.

He chuckled and sipped more of his drink. You talked more with him pointedly ignoring your questions until he looked at his watch. He grinned, that wide smile melting your insides, as he grabbed your things and took your hand.

The casual way he touched you, openly, in the airport where everyone was anonymous was a balm to your spirit. You didn’t know you needed this…validation of the two of you. You didn’t care what people thought of you to the extent that you were together. You were more concerned about office politics. If you wanted to be taken seriously, you couldn’t let the office gossips think you were sleeping your way to the top.

Out in the open like this, you felt excited to be the one holding his hand while he guided you through the chaos of the airport. He walked leisurely to your gate. You frantically searched the boards for destinations. These were all domestic flights to the East Coast. Atlanta, New York, Chicago…

He stopped at a gate going to Miami. You eyed him as he took up a place near the gate. They were beginning to call for your group.

“Now boarding first class to Jamaica, with a stop in Miami. Now boarding…”

“Jamaica?!” You whispered to him and he grinned down at you.

He squeezed your hand as he moved you in line, handing the agent your tickets, and then pulling you down the tunnel. You had no room to talk as he placed your bags in the overhead bin and you settled into the nicer seats in first class. For once, your big ass fit comfortably in the seat with enough foot room to swing your feet.

Shit, after flying like this, you might have to do it all the time and leave your friends in economy. You were all going to the same place, you didn’t have to sit next to each other. The flight attendant asked if you wanted a drink as more people got onboard. You accepted a tequila neat and settled into your seat, wiping everything down with cleanser wipes you found in your personal bag. Your girl really fucking knew you.

“Bougie looks good on you,” he said as he watched you.

“Shut up! I’m gonna enjoy the fuck out of this. When are we coming back?” You asked.

“Tuesday night,” he said.

You couldn’t help looking outside, looking at the people who passed. You didn’t want to contain your excitement. As the boarding ended and the plane began to taxi down the runway, Tre settled in his seat and tapped your arm to get your attention.

“Why haven’t you told your friends about us?” He asked.

He wanted to discuss that now? “And say what? ‘Hey guys, what’s new with me? Well, my boss has been blowing my back out for the past few weeks?’” You whispered so everybody in first class wouldn’t hear your business.

He scrunched up his face. “It’s not official until your friends know. And I’m not just your boss,” he said.

You threw up your hands. “What else am I supposed to call you?”

“Your boyfriend?” Tre asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Boyfriend! That’s what you are?” You asked.

The captain started speaking about preparing for liftoff, so you were spared a few moments as the flight attendants came around to collect trash and remind you about the trays.

The plane took off and Tre never stopped looking at you. As it ascended, he leaned in so he could be heard over the roar of the engines and mounting pressure.

“That’s exactly what I am. And I want you to tell them about me,” he said.

You looked at him. He was serious about this shit. You didn't know what to say or what to call him. You guessed it was the logical step after declaring “you’re mine” while hopping on his dick. You licked your lips and nodded. “You’re my boyfriend. I’ll tell them when we land,” you said.

He smiled and sat back in his seat as if it had been eating at him. The tension left his shoulders. When the plane leveled out, the flight attendants came around with warm peanuts and drinks. You got some water to balance the drinks you’d had.

The plane ride to Miami was comfortable now that Tre decided to relax. You were able to joke with him about the book he chose to read while you whipped out your Kindle and awkwardly told him about the filthy book you were reading. You had a brief layover once you got to Miami. You collected shot glasses for your friends.

The plane ride to Jamaica was smooth. You were flying into the night but the sight as you descended still stole your breath. The water was a mix of cerulean and true blue, with scores of seaweed you could see from the plane. The island didn’t look all that big flying overhead, but the hills were wide and varied in height.

The plane had to turn to land into the small ass runway and you were half concerned as the captain easily guided the plane onto it. You rolled into the gate and Tre helped bring your bags down.

The airport itself smelled like Shea butter and breezy sandy beaches and you inhaled deeply. You had traveled all over the world at this point with your girls. Hitting up spots in Europe and Mexico, but there was something so amazing about landing in a place with people that looked like you.

Everywhere you went, there was another Black face to greet you. There were fans up high blowing hot wind at you but to you, it was perfect. As you got off the plane, there was a man standing there with Tre’s name. He walked you past the long line to the left for regular people.

That line was long and looked unbearably hot as people stood there trying to get through customs. You assumed the young man was a driver with his company shirt and shorts on. You never saw anything like it. He guided you through the lane to the right, going down a ramp, and turning into a much shorter customs line. The agent at the gate checked in your passports, stamping them, asking routine questions.

Through, the driver stood off to the side while you waited for the bags. There were gorgeous Jamaican women with red outfits on helping people find their carousel and telling you to settle in for a long wait because they were slow.

The accents were the best part. It sounded like coming home. A deep, ancient knowing made you feel at home here than you ever did in the States. Tre grabbed your bags from the carousel since they came out among the first bags. The driver took it from him and led you out of the busy airport.

There were just…Black people everywhere. For once, you didn’t feel like an oddball out when you traveled. Seeing Black faces was the norm. The driver took you through the final screening, handing over a form Tre filled out while on the plane. Then, you were out of the baggage claim area where even more people congregated. Bus drivers were trying to find people to scoop up, taxi drivers did the same, and there were so many guides waving signs for tours.

Outside, the air was balmy but comfortable and the driver led you to his car. There was nothing fancy about it, but you climbed in all the same while Tre talked with him. Then you were off.

You had to keep pinching yourself. Jamaica was gorgeous. The rolling grassy hills were interrupted by pockets of communities. You passed by signs of colonization. Plazas, houses, Popeyes. You giggled and pointed it out to Tre who just smiled like you were the most adorable thing on the planet.

It still blew your mind that he wanted to be your boyfriend. It seemed so high school the way you felt about it. But it felt right so you decided to go with the flow. By the time you made it to the adults only resort, you were absolutely tired. Tre told you to sit in the waiting area while he handled everything.

In no time, you were showering in your suite still pinching yourself that this was actually happening. You had dinner, buffet style, and enjoyed part of that evening’s entertainment. There was live music and a dancing troupe that you half paid attention to. Now, you just wanted to crawl into bed but you still had so many questions.

You let Tre see your text message as you texted your friends that you arrived safely with your boyfriend. You had landed and your phone dinged immediately upon turning on. Ka’ron told your entire friend group that not only were you getting regular dick, you had been whisked away on a fancy trip on some real movie type shit.

But Tre didn’t look satisfied with what you said. So you made him take a photo with you with the amazing view in the background. You confirmed that he was a sex god and you would give all the nasty details when you got back. He was much happier about the photo and asked you to send it to him.

He was so…domestic and it was freaking you the fuck out. You didn’t have the energy to bombard him with millions of questions. He tucked you into bed and then you were drifting off to sleep, trying to remember everything you wanted to ask him.

The next day, after breakfast, you took a look around the resort and everything it had to offer. There were multiple pools and a small beach area where you could go and relax. The resort had towels and pool equipment for you, but it was tied to your room number. If you didn’t return it when you were done, then it would be charged to your room.

Ka’ron didn’t steer you wrong with the outfits she chose for the trip. All light, lounge wear that fit easily over skimpy bathing suits your friends made you buy. You had no intention of actually wearing them. But that was all she packed and the look on Tre’s face was worth it.

He was content to walk around like everything was fine, but your questions were burning you from the inside out. Worse than the damn sun. This was their milder season so you knew it could have been much, much worse. But the UV index was much higher so you stayed spraying on your sunscreen.

You held hands and stopped at some of the gift shop areas spread around. There was an ice cream shop that sold coffee and meat pies. You got ice cream while Tre went for coffee. But his entire focus was on you licking your spoon.

You began to do it deliberately slowly, licking every inch. You put the end in your mouth and slowly withdrew it while keeping your eyes on him. Your body heated up from the way his eyes were trained on your lips. He caught every movement and swipe of your tongue across your lips to lick it up.

Tre grabbed your ice cream cup and threw it away. “Hey! I wasn’t finished!” You complained.

“I’ll buy you another one,” he said. The ice cream was “free” due to the all-inclusiveness of the resort package but you weren’t going to split hairs. Here, you and Tre were always on the same page.

Your body responded to him like it had never done in the past with previous lovers. You felt him on a cellular level as your swimsuit grew damp from your arousal. He pulled you to the elevator and your room, barely opening the door before pulling you inside and slamming you up against the door.

His lips crashed into yours, desperate and needy. Moans escaped you even as his beard tickled your face. You just wanted more. You pulled at his shirt and pants, undressing him just as he undressed you. He turned you around, pressing your chest against the door. He kissed your neck as he untied your top and lowered your bottoms.

Your chest was still pressed to the door so your top didn’t fall just yet. Tre’s warm hand on your back prevented you from moving. He stepped closer and you felt the heat of his chest scald your back.

You trembled in the doorway. You wanted to see him and touch him too. But he only slipped his right hand around your hips to spread your pussy lips apart. You hissed as his fingers connected with your clit.

You felt him smile against your neck. “Already wet for me, little one?”

Your head thumped against the door as he worked your wetness around your clit, diving into your pussy to gather more of your arousal and spread it around. He toyed with your clit, rolling around his fingers, and flicking it just the way you liked.

“Oh, shit, Sir,” you moaned against the door. Your cheek was pressed against it as he rubbed his erection against your ass. He nibbled on your ear, licking away any hints of pain. His left hand came up to grab your titty. He finally let the fabric fall as he pinched and rolled your nipple in time with his fingers on your clit.

“I want the neighbors next door to hear you screaming and call the front desk,” he whispered in your ear.

Pinpricks of arousal traveled up and down your body. You could barely stay standing as that particular image flashed in your mind. “I want you to explain that it was just some enthusiastic play time and nothing to be concerned about.”

Your moans were pathetic and whiny as you raised up on tip toes trying to escape his fingers. But he only pressed into you further, pressing you against the cold door. You scratched at the wooden door. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to help you as you cried out and the orgasm ripped through you like a thunderstorm. You were whipped about in a frenzy as the power of it stole your breath away.

You cried as you calmed down. Tre withdrew his fingers and panted against your neck as if he had just gotten done fucking you. He audibly smacked his lips as he tasted you on his fingers and moaned as he licked every last digit.

He roughly turned you again, slamming his lips against yours in a brutal kiss. You took control, kissing him and pushing at his shoulders. He raised an eyebrow at you as you dropped to your knees.

His dick twitched as you palmed him, running your fingers over him once before opening your mouth and sucking him inside. You licked him just like you did that ice cream spoon. Slowly and sensually and maintaining eye contact. He groaned, licked his lips.

“Oh, that’s how we doing it?” He asked. He sat back against the wall and you adjusted with him. Then you continued teasing him and sucking him into your mouth. You played with his balls and he moaned low in his throat. You rolled them with one hand while keeping your other hand braced against his thigh.

You licked him, running your tongue across his tip. “Mm, suck me down,” he said. But you ignored him, continuing to kiss your way up and down his shaft. He chuckles were stuttered and he shook his head.

“I’ll remember this when it’s your turn,” he promised darkly. You knew he was going to pay you back when you started teasing him. But you just liked the sound of him moaning for you even more. You sucked him all the way down, trying to fit as much of him in your mouth as you could. Then you started sucking on him like he liked. Rough, bruising, bullying your mouth with his dick.

“Unf, that’s it. That’s it right there,” he coached while he threw his head back and groaned. He released himself and you swallowed every drop. He took a few deep breaths before picking you up and bringing you to the bed. He spread your legs apart and looked his fill at your dripping pussy.

“Wait! Fuck!” You didn’t need a break but you did need a tiny breather. You had been out in the sun all day walking and enjoying the day. But the feral gleam in that man’s eyes had you slightly worried that you were in danger.

“Tre,” you said, trying to get a handle on yourself. It wasn’t normal to want to throw common sense through the window and have him fuck your brains out. Right?

“The fuck did you just call me?” He asked. His deep, rough voice turned even darker as his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He slapped your pussy and you reared up, trying to scoot away from him.

He slapped it a few more times, each one stinging more than the last. The sting gave way to a burning coil of heat that had you moaning and moving your hips for more. You hated that he turned you into exactly what you didn’t want to be, a sex doll. Well, hell, there were worse things to be while underneath him.

You stammered as you tried to think past the unbridled lust and need.

“What’s my name?” He asked. He landed another smack against your pussy. You only grew more wet. The wet slaps were getting louder and filthier and he noticed. He didn’t wait long for you to respond before continuing to slap at your pussy until your legs were shaking.

“S-Sir,” you moaned.

“What is it?” He asked. He tilted his head and you looked at him through that sex fog you’d grown accustomed to this past week. You could barely think of your answer, let alone make your mouth move, as he slammed two fingers inside you.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned. Your hands gripped and let go of the sheets around you on the king sized bed. He pumped the fingers in and out of you, moving them around to feel every inch of your soaked walls. You moaned and whined, your needy sounds somehow turning you on even more.

“What’s my name, little one?” You asked.

“Sir! Sir!” You yelled out, cried out, in time for your orgasm to kick in, making you shiver in time with the frost from the AC. You shook, out of control, thighs trembling and knees buckling. If you were standing, you’d have collapsed to the floor.

Tre scooted in, making sure your legs couldn’t close. “Remember our safe word?”

You nodded dumbly. “Candy cane,” you muttered.

He dropped his head to your belly, placing soft kisses there. “Only you can turn me into a fucking animal,” he whispered against your skin. You giggled as he continued to attack your plump belly with kisses.

He licked the swell of your breasts and moaned at your taste. You reached out and grabbed his dick, played with the precum between your bodies. He moaned and ground his hips into you, rocking with every swipe. You flicked your thumb across the tip, flicking all that pre against the tip of his dick. He sighed and groaned under your touch, latching on to your nipple and suckling you.

It began to dry up so he pulled away and dropped to his knees. “Please, Sir. I need you,” you said.

He took off his glasses and tossed them onto the bed. You grabbed them and placed them on your chest to keep them safe. There was a bite of cold from the metal but it quickly warmed. You didn’t want to get lost gripping the white sheets in desperation and accidentally crush them. Tre watched the movement and his eyes turned darker still, a thousand yard stare entering his gaze.

Sweat gathered at his brow, rolling down the side of his sweet ebony skin and sliding into his beard. His breathing was erratic as he lowered against your pussy lips and drew your legs over his shoulders.

His fingers dug into a deep massage of the back of your thighs as he nosed through your wet slit. You bit your lip and gyrated your hips, unable to control yourself from moving. He suckled one of your pussy lips into his mouth, pulling to the point of pain and you cried out.

You had no idea how you were going to survive another one but you weren’t going to tap out. You needed him just as badly as he needed you. Needed this. This was the only time you felt like you were on the same page. The only time you felt connected, mind to mind.

He moaned, inhaling your scent and swiping his tongue out. You were still so sensitive from your earlier orgasms that you twitched with every pass. The massage on your thighs already had your back arching off of the bed, but when he finally dived in and wrapped his sexy lips around your clit, you were crying out and clutching his head.

“Oh shit!” You moaned. This was different. This was him trying to prove something. Or earn something. He suckled on you, hard, pulling waves of pleasure from you and making you whine and groan and scream to the sky. Perhaps he would get his wish and the front desk would be calling you any minute, asking if everything was okay.

No, everything was not fucking okay. You were getting the life sucked out of you and it was bordering on painful. It felt too fucking good as he licked and moaned his way in between your legs. His tongue speared in and out of you, mimicking how he was going to fuck you. One of his hands disappeared from your thighs and you felt him groan and tug on himself.

“That’s my job, you know,” you managed to breathe out.

He huffed against your pussy, rolling his tongue around your clit in small, tight circles that made your eyes cross. His tugs grew rougher and you panted to get enough oxygen to form a thought.

“That’s mine,” you said before succumbing to another orgasm. This was brutal and unforgiving. It blinded and deafened you. Sweat gathered everywhere. Pooled in the crevices of your skin. Your thighs locked his head in and he kept going, kept working his jaw to wring every last bit of it out of you.

Your knuckles hurt from clutching the sheets so hard as you came and came, wave upon wave of pleasure soaking the sheets beneath you. Tre licked up everything you gushed out. You twitched with every pass, too overstimulated.

Your cry was small and weak and he finally stopped, kissing up your thighs and over your belly. His hands roamed your body, touching every inch he could. He rubbed feeling back into your limbs, anchoring you in place and bringing you back to the world of the living.

Your essence dripped nastily from his beard and he swiped a hand down to work it in. “I like when you get possessive. You said this was yours?” Tre stood over you, peering down at you. He tugged on his thick erection and it jerked as you struggled to your elbows to hold yourself up.

It looked fucking painful the way it strained away from him, veiny, and begging for you. You licked your lips. Fuck, you wanted to taste him. Wanted him to feel just as good as he made you.

“Mine,” you huffed out.

He swiped his hand through your slopping juices and coated his dick with it, rubbing himself and groaning as he looked into your eyes. “One day, I’ma paint your belly with my cum and see how many paintings I can make.”

Your pussy clenched sharply and you moaned at the mental image. You needed him to do that, like right now. Something on your face made him grin and huff a laugh. He gripped your legs and tugged you closer, ass half-hanging off the bed.

“I like the idea of stuffing you more. Fucking my cum into you and painting your insides with everything I can give you,” his rubbed the top of your thighs and your hips. His hands were always deliciously callused and it worked at turning your body into jelly.

“I want everything,” you said. You gave him puppy eyes as your voice turned soft and girly, small with need.

His hand went to your face as he leaned over you. Your sweaty bodies rubbed together and you moaned, pulling him closer by his hips. He watched you rub against him, grabbing his ass with one hand and pulling him into you.

Your head was deliciously empty. You were operating on basic instinct. You just wanted him inside of you. You just wanted to be connected to him. Claimed by him. He moved his hips, rubbing his fat dick against your folds. You were trying to move him inside of you but he was too big for all of that. He’d have to be guided in.

“You want this dick, little one?” He asked.

The pet name was like a dose of dopamine that traveled from your brain to the tips of your toes. It relaxed you further, making you smile goofily at him.

“I want that dick, Sir,” you moaned.

He pulled you by the chin for a sweet, tender kiss that made your eyes water. He used his other hand to guide him inside you. That was anything but tender. He shoved inside and your mouth dropped open.

He groaned as he looked at you and began to pump his hips at a fast, punishing pace. You couldn’t breathe. You would probably pass out in a second. Your mouth flopped like a fish as he found a spot deep inside you already. You felt full and connected just like you wanted, getting closer to him every time he was inside you.

“Breathe, little one. I don’t want you passing out on me,” he said against your lips. He kissed you as if to give you the very breath you desperately needed. You gasped and sucked in as much air as you could while he was currently stealing it from your body.

Fuck, you felt electric. On top of the world. You felt like you could do anything now that he was inside you. You rolled your head, unable to choose a position to hold and keep it. He felt too fucking good pumping into you.

Your arms trembled from trying to hold yourself up but it was important to you to stay like this. Stay close like this. Your head was bent towards his. His lips were pressing sweet kisses to your forehead and cheeks. You returned his sweet kisses so at odds with how he was fucking you.

And make no mistake, this was pure, animalistic fucking. He was rutting inside of you. “Fuck,” he moaned. “Feel so fucking good.”

You clenched around his dick. His moans made you greedy for more. You felt invincible. Power drunk. You rendered a powerful man like him speechless and sloppy as his hips jerked against you.

He stopped to adjust himself, lifting one of your legs higher and then he set to work again. You grabbed his forearms and held on, looking into each other’s eyes, as your moans matched. Your face started to contort with a rising orgasm.

“Mhm, let that shit go. Let me feel you flooding this dick. Get that dick wet for me,” he cooed.

“Sir, Sir,” you moaned. Your nails dug into his arms as you leaned your head back and it finally overtook you. “Ouue, fuuuuck, babbyyy,” you moaned as you came. Your body convulsed on his dick, flooding him just the way he wanted with your slick.

“Fuck, I feel it. Feelin’ that shit,” he groaned. He hung his head as you closed your eyes. Stars exploded behind your eyes. You closed them tightly, trying to survive this. Trying to survive him and his body.

His own orgasm was ripped from him, soaking you in his cum. You felt it pulsing inside of you, pumping load after load. His hips still snapped inside of you, fucking it even deeper. You held on, your head against the bed and flopping from side to side as you cried and moaned, shaking on his dick.

Tre panted and groaned, his hips slowing down. Fuck, you were definitely going to feel this shit later. He dropped against your shoulder, off to the side and careful to avoid his glasses on your chest. He licked and kissed on your neck as he panted and recovered.

You messily sucked in air. He’d already seen you in a bonnet and shower cap, you were out of dignities to spare. You massaged the back of his neck while he laid there. He groaned, tension leaving his body in visible waves.

He softened inside of you and slowly pulled out. He leaned back into standing, so he could open your legs and watch his cum spill out. He licked his lips as if he still wanted to play with you but you were both too fucking tired to do anything but huff and look towards the ceiling.

He flopped beside you, wiping sweat from his brow. You yawned, but he told you not to fall asleep.

Not to fall asleep? How could you not? Your poor vagina was begging you for a break and he wasn’t giving an inch.

You heard him flittering around the suite. You distantly heard water running and then he was running a warm towel between your legs. You hissed at the contact, the soreness, the desperation finally leaving your bones for the time being.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he whispered as he cleaned you up. He disappeared again and then he was back, picking you up and scooting you further up the bed. Somehow, he produced a tray of fresh fruit and made you sit up to eat and drink the water that was also on the tray.

“Where did this come from?” You asked.

“I sent for it while I was cleaning myself off. I think you dozed off,” he said. He had a proud grin on his face and you rolled your eyes. Yes, yes, we all knew he was a sex god capabale of fucking you to sleep.

You nodded and opened your mouth while he popped a strawberry in. The fruit was delicious and refreshing after something so intense. The last thing you wanted was to eat or drink. But he pointed out that you needed something besides your light breakfast and ice cream.

You were sitting against the headboard, letting the coolness ease your feverish skin. Your legs were tucked in and he closed the distance, sitting as close as possible to you while staying in front of you.

“I owe you some answers. But first, I want to say that this was an apology trip and fucking,” he said.

“Apology?” Shit, you really couldn’t think. Your thoughts were…nonexistent.

“I owe you an apology for not letting Brianna know that we were done. That she couldn’t just walk into the office whenever she felt like anymore. We ran in the same circles and shared the same tastes. I like my women to be a little submissive in the bedroom. Tying them up, controlling their orgasms, the whole bit. That’s what she meant by training. She thought I trained you to call me, Sir.”

He hadn’t, not really. It was a default to call your bosses Ma’am or Sir or whatever they preferred to be called unless they gave you permission to call them by their name. A holdover from your old school grandparents to teach you manners. Tre terrified you in the beginning, you had honestly been too afraid to call him anything else.

He told you more about how he usually got with his women. He found that he was into the whole scene life from his time experimenting in college. He didn’t “do” relationships. In every sense of the word, you were his first real relationship. He was so focused on getting things together, he skipped over a dozen or so steps and just wanted you by his side.

It was…sweet and started to answer a lot of fucking questions about him.

“I knew that I fucked up with the Brianna thing, I heard how she was speaking to you. We spent the lunch hour talking about how we were over whether she liked it or not. She kept asking what made you so special. And I just kept telling her everything. Everything made you special.”

Your eyes were starting to tear up so you bit your lip to keep from making them fall. He was being so damn sweet and open, it was tearing you to pieces.

He looked away, looked down at your legs. His hands idly rubbed your calf as he talked more. “I knew I needed to make it up to you beyond just saying sorry or taking you to dinner. I needed you to know I’m serious,” he said.

You reached out and caressed his cheek, tugging on his beard. “Trust me, I know you’re serious,” you said with a giggle.

He shook his head. “I know I ambushed you with this. But there’s still so much I don’t know about you. I heard you talking to Ka’ron one day and knew she was the main one to ask about this. When she said she never heard of me, I will admit, that hurt.”

He said as much back at the airport. You dropped your hand to his, to the one drawing circles on your calf. You squeezed his hand and looked into his open, brown eyes. “I’m not ashamed of you. I didn’t know how to explain it. You’re still my boss,” you said.

“I’m not just your boss,” he said.

“No, but…sometimes you push forward and there’s never a conversation in between. Like you decide all these things in this…relationship but you don’t tell it to me. You leave ‘me’ out of the relationship and that’s no way to be together. I need that conversation to ground me. I’m not a mind reader.”

“I can’t help it. It feels like I’m always trying to gauge whether you have one foot in or one foot out. I feel like…I have to catch you by surprise,” he said.

That was fair. You had a history of running and being scared. You were constantly running from situations that were too real, too honest. You hated that you weren’t always seen as the “fun, uncomplicated” girlfriend. When guys pushed for more, you were the first out of the door and onto the next one. Over and over, ready to bolt at the first sign of something being real.

“I am in. I am yours. I am not going anywhere,” you said. “I promise to talk to you first if I ever feel like bolting. But that’s just it! I don’t feel like bolting with you.”

You still felt panicked sometimes, like you couldn’t breathe with the mounting pressure and knowledge that all of this could come crashing down on your head. That everyone would find out and snicker and laugh you out of the office. That Tre would realize that he was dating someone so far beneath his league, it was laughable.

“I feel like you’re going to realize we’re not on the same level,” you admitted.

“We’re not. You’re so far out of my league, I don’t know why you’re here,” he said.

You looked at him, waiting for him to laugh or yell, “Gotcha!” It never came. He was fucking serious. The realization made you look at him like he was crazy.

“Get the fuck out,” you said and shook your head, laughing.

“I’m very serious,” he said. You felt like you knew him by now. He didn’t “do” humor that much either. He made you laugh and you had fun watching comedy specials together, but for the most part, he was deadly serious.

“You are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met. You’re smart, funny, and you can talk about so much shit I never heard about. I feel like I have to shower you with gifts and trips to make you like me,” he said.

You pushed at his chest. “You’re so full of shit and I’m not falling for it. I’m not after your money!”

“I know,” he said with that shit-eating grin you’re so fond of. “I check the statements. You haven’t used my card once. What’s up with that?”

You threw up your hands. “Did Brianna ever get a card?” You asked. You couldn’t look at him while you asked that question. You didn’t want to compare yourself to Lil’ Miss Headband but you needed to know.

“You are the only one I’ve ever trusted my money to,” he said. He brought your hand to his lips.

You sighed quietly, loving to hear that. You’d just about die if it turned out that he gave every little woman he slept with a card.

“Sounds like we’re both harboring shit instead of talking,” you said.

He nodded. “We promised honesty from here on out, yeah?” He asked.

You nodded, popping a grape into your mouth. “Total honesty. No matter how scared we are or how much it hurts.”

Tre sucked his teeth and fought you for a piece of cheese. “Ain’t nobody scared,” he said.

You laughed and called him a liar and continued to talk a few things out. He didn’t mind reassuring you over and over that you were the only one he’d really been with. You still found it hard to believe, you had eyes.

His ego needed no stroking as he confirmed that there were always women after him but it was hard to tell if they wanted him or his money. He had no problem treating his lady, but when it was expected and not appreciated, it got old fast. You respected it. You’d still have a hard time believing it though.

You spent the rest of the weekend, much more relaxed that you didn’t have the weight of Brianna hanging over your head. You were able to swim and venture out into Jamaica to a local shopping place with women selling wares. A lot of it was the same thing from stall to stall and you felt bad having to tell a lot of them no. Tre was patient and let you get however many souvenirs you wanted for your friends.

You spent New Year’s with him inside of you, making you beg for mercy until your voice gave out and your body quaked. You got your kiss at midnight. It was sloppy and wet and perfect.

Unfortunately, you had to return home to a million calls from your friends and family. Cat was out of the bag officially. You made sure that Tre knew it was all his fault to which he only grinned and asked which house you were visiting first. But now that you were back in sunny California, a pit gnawed in your belly.

You didn’t know how to broach the subject. You had planned to tell him when you weren’t tearing each other’s clothes off last week, but then the trip threw you for a loop.

He brought you to your place, after you had to practically grab the steering wheel and make him drive you to your place and not his. You made sure he knew that you weren’t trying to leave him, you just had things to check on and he was perfectly capable of coming to your place. Unless he’d spontaneously burst into hives from not sleeping on black sheets. Traveling was a fluke, the rules didn’t apply while on vacation.

“Oh, we got jokes,” he said and grinned on the way to your place. “I’ll remember that tomorrow.” He kept that evil grin on his face and you shuddered to think of what he had planned while you clenched your thighs together.

At your place, you stopped him from getting out of the car with a hand on his. He looked at you, growing more and more concerned as he looked at your face.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I don’t know how to just blurt this out,” you said. Your leg bounced in your seat. Your street was quiet for once, no one outside to distract you.

“Hey, total honesty.”

You nodded. “I was going to tell you last week but…” You took a deep breath and then closed your eyes. Rip that bandaid off.

“Someone’s stealing a shit ton of money from the company.”

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Tre Files #Tre x Black!reader #Tre x Black reader #x Black reader #Tre x Fem!reader #Tre x Fem reader #Tre x reader #Tre x you #Boss!Tre x Assistant!reader #Assistant!reader #Candy Cane Lane fanfic #Candy Cane Lane fan fic #Candy Cane Lane fanfiction #Candy Cane Lane fan fiction #Trevante Rhodes fanfic #Trevante Rhodes fan fic #Trevante Rhodes fanfiction #Trevante Rhodes fan fiction

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stationintern · 1 month

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Hello all!

This month was, truly, a beautiful month for me reading-wise. The birds were chirping, I found smut that made me sweat, and I revisited some old favorites. Let's jump right in. I am so excited to share these with you. (Hence why I am posting this a day early.)

Strap in!

Dwelling On Dreams by @the-sinking-ship for H/D Big Bang 2021, 135k, E

I reread this fic this month, and it was just as delicious as I remembered. There are aspects of this fic that felt burned into my memory, so it came as a shock to me when I realized that the last time I'd read this fic was over a year ago. Everything about it feels so vivid. Harry's magic, his raw sexual energy. Draco's ability to make me scream at my phone and throw a mini temper-tantrum. I love flashbacks, and this fic has them in abundance. If you're looking for a thick read with complex characters and an interesting case to solve, look no further!

Hear Me Out by @rainstormradish for @dronarryfest 2024, 5.2k, E

I am pleased to announce that I have officially bought my ticket and jumped on the Dronarry train. You've all convinced me. This fic, in particular, is what really got the ball rolling. This was... immaculate. When I said I found smut that made me sweat, I MEANT IT. I had to, like, physically reconnect with my limbs after I read this. A bit of fake dating to start you off, and it only gets better from there.

The Way You Say My Name by InnerLilith 5.3k, E

Ya'll ever just bark at your phone? Sometimes, a girl just wants to read about Harry Potter going absolutely bonkers over Draco Malfoy calling him sweet little names. Very hot, very important to me.

Please hold. Your call is very important to us./Bloodlust and Bureaucracy by @goblinmatriarch 5k, T/8.5k E

DOUBLE FEATURE! I love the smell of wizarding bureaucracy in the morning. What a little world you have built! Authors who can create a new little piece of the wizarding world to explore mean the world to me. Very interesting in regards to how the medical system in the wizarding world relates to its real-world counterparts. Also, some biting action. Very smart, very hot.

Crossed Wires by @skeptiquewrites 11k, E

Critics are raving. "Literally ripping up the wallpaper in my home," says one reviewer. "Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure," says another. Bureaucracy lovers win forever and ever. Also, Draco gets to wear many suits. Harry Potter the reluctant politician. I couldn't have wished for more.

Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses 46k, E

BOATS, REPRESSION, MORE BOATS, EDGING (for sports purposes), EVEN MORE REPRESSION, AND WILL YOU BELIEVE ME IF I SAY THERE'S MORE BOATS. I don't know how you've done it, but you've managed to parallel the epic highs and lows of college rowing with the literal wizarding war. If that isn't talent, I don't know what is babe.

Truth or Dare? by @lettersbyelise 3.4k, E

There is truly nothing more intimate than jerking off your childhood rival while a party goes on around you. THAT, my friends, is the key to post-war, inter-house unity.

Borrowed Time by @the-starryknight for @dronarryfest 2024, 7.6k, E

Oh this was fire. What do you know about body swapping threesomes? Would you like to know more? Yes. Yes, you would.

Alrighty, I think that's all for now, folks. Very thankful to be in a fandom with so so so many talented people. You all blow my mind. Here's to another month of fantastic fiction!

See ya!

XX, Moon

#drarry #draco x harry #drarry fic rec #drarry fic #moons monthly fic recs

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zujime · 2 months

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─── vi

cw. best friend’s ex! vi, fluff, implied fem reader (no pronouns used tho), acquaintances to lovers, (slight) slow burn, cuddles, sharing a bed, movie nights, pet names mentioned: princess, babe, hun, gorgeous.

note. a lil somthing i conjured up during my period insomnia :)) I'm running on one hour of sleep ya'll mrgh... anyway, should i make another part?

best friend’s ex! vi who you only ever saw in passing when she was still with your bestie. why they broke up was always a topic your friend never really expanded upon but they got off on somewhat good terms—though you do recall the prolonged stares vi would give you when she’d come by.

best friend’s ex! vi who you happened to stumble upon when going to get your lunch at the cafe that was across from your job right after you finished your shift. you remember hearing that she wasn’t really a fan of the food here because “the food ’s just glorified hospital food”, though the silly jab at her comment is caught in your throat when she greets you; silver eyes soft as they flicker between your eyes, scarred lips curling into a shy smirk as the velvety soft sound of her voice reaches your ears.

best friend’s ex! vi who you gave your number to after that same encounter to keep in touch—she’d text you during your breaks to ask silly questions and take your mind off work stress and later call you after your shifts end. and those calls end up lasting far longer than intended, either up until someone falls asleep or till someone’s phone dies.

best friend’s ex! vi who takes three weeks to ask if you wanna hang out, you know, as friends? inviting you over for a movie night at her place on your day off to watch the movies you’d been dying to watch but never got around to. you were able to get through the first two but as soon as the third movie started, you began nodding off before vi felt your head softly fall onto her taut shoulder—your lashes ghosting the exposed skin as you slept peacefully, drooling a little.

best friend’s ex! vi who chuckles slightly at the sight and at the warm, heart-swelling feeling you give her whenever you call, text—hell, whenever she sees your face. she turns the tv off before picking you up and tucking you in her bed before she goes to sleep on the couch.

best friend’s ex! vi who you wake up and walk down the hall to see laid out on the couch, limbs hanging off the couch from under the soft blanket she had on—low mumbles could be heard from her sleeping form, faint yet audible, though they’re cut short as she stretches and slides a hand over her face in hopes of wiping away the sleep, eyelids heavy as she peers at you.

“how long have you been watching me?” her voice still carried the taunt with a softness as she spoke groggily. you feel your face grow warm at her question, despite it being a tease but you brush it off and thank her for letting you stay the night even though none of you intended to have a sleepover. she hums in response before getting up off the couch. “it was like—three in the morning—and i am not some asshole who would’ve just let you go home alone, princess.” the pet name slid so effortlessly off her tongue as she passed by you, to go shower.

best friend’s ex! vi who you find yourself hanging out with more and more, and the pet names she’d give you only seemed to grow—not like you had a problem with it. she’d call you things like babe, princess, and hun far more than she’d ever say your actual name, she even calls you gorgeous, though rather sparingly because sometimes she feels like she’s going a little too far.

best friend’s ex! vi who you refuse to tell your bestie about every time she asks what you’re thinking about whenever you zone out during your monthly outings.

“what’s with that face?” she inquires, giggling a bit at the shamelessly lovesick expression you wore. “what face? what’re you talking about?” you snap back to reality, eyeing your friend anxiously as you listen to her response. “you know, that face people make in those really cheesy romcoms from the 2000s when they’d just met the love of their life or something…” she trailed off, now squinting at you in suspicion. “...are you seeing someone?” “...” “hello?!” “girl, no! i’m thinking about when imma get my mfing food.”

best friend’s ex! vi who you practically live with at this point—because of how often you two have sleepovers, she has a majority of your belongings all around her apartment; your clothes in her closet and dresser, your extra toothbrush and hair products, fav foods/snacks and drinks in the fridge, etc. though, she still insists on sleeping on the couch whenever you stay over despite you stating you have no problem sharing the bed. eventually, she caved—reluctant at first as she squirmed under the comforter to get comfortable beside you until she finally was able to fall asleep.

best friend’s ex! vi who at first when sharing the bed with you, would often wake up to make sure she wasn’t crowding your space or being touchy in any way. but the moment she woke up to your arms draped over her frame, she softened and decided to just let herself sleep—burying her face in the crook of your neck and holding you close as she slept, yet she still tries to be mindful of her movement so she doesn’t wake you.

best friend’s ex! vi who you realize is a huge sucker for physical affection. oftentimes brushing her hand against yours in hopes of holding it but hesitantly refraining from interlocking fingers when in public. and when the two of you are alone, she desperately leans into whatever you give her—head scratches, movie night cuddles, pinky holding, tracing her tattoos with your fingers, anything.

best friend’s ex! vi who realizes she has feelings for you during one of your typical movie nights, but the look you gave her when the movie ended—eyes reflecting the television screen so prettily as you tilt your head slightly to peer up at her before speaking, but whatever it was you said had completely gone through one ear and out the other as the skin of her ears slowly became a deep red.

"fuck." was the only thought that crossed her mind as she stared at your soft eyes. "vi?" you murmur, a little worried at the expression she wore. but she abruptly stands up before excusing herself and heading to the bathroom.

best friend’s ex! vi who you spent the last few days worrying about—is she ok? is she sick? did you make her uncomfortable? thoughts seemed to race through your head endlessly until she asks if you could come over real quick, through a text.

best friend’s ex! vi who—despite having met multiple people before—gets nervous when you step foot in her apartment. in her eyes, the feeling of her words falling messily from her lips as she spills her guts to you feels weird. but when you creep close to her—lips mere inches from hers as your breaths mingled and eyes heavy-lidded—that feeling dissipates.

best friend’s ex! vi who gets lost in the sea that is your lips as you drown in the feelings she was too scared to show you. callous hands slotting themselves needily on each side of your face, pulling you deeper into the kiss with every shared breath, begging never to part. almost as if accepting her request, you rest a hand against hers, smiling into the searing kiss before finally pulling away for air and softly gazing up at her silver orbs.

#[♪]. vi #reader insert #arcane #arcane vi #arcane violet #arcane imagines #arcane fanfic #arcane x reader #vi arcane x reader #vi imagine #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #fluff #arcane fluff #vi fluff #arcane x female reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n

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lu-is-not-ok · 10 months

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Lu's Guide to Sin Analysis

Welp, since my brain is too focused on having K Corp Hong Lu go full unga bunga in Mirror Dungeons to write full analyses, I decided I might as well give something else to all the people starving for Limbus Theory content.

So, here we are. A basic guide on how I approach the Sin Analysis portion of my analyses, covering my personal interpretations for each Sin, as well as how to use those when analysing both E.G.Os and Identities.

That way, ya'll can dabble in doing some of this on your own when I'm too busy grinding my way to 400 hours of play time on Limbus to write up full analyses.

Sounds good? Awesome. Under the cut we go, wheeeee!

Sin Interpretations

Let's start with the most important part - the Sins themselves.

I want you to take a moment and think about your own associations with those Sins. Perhaps your immediate thought is to take the words used literally. Maybe you immediately think back to the Biblical ideas of the Seven Deadly Sins. Mayhaps there's some other media you know that also uses Sins in some way, which you subconsciously default to when thinking about them.

Whatever those associations are, I want you to throw them away.

That's right. Whatever is telling you that Lust = Horny, Wrath = Angry, Envy = Jealous, etc, etc? Throw all of those preconcieved notions away.

This is the biggest mistake I see people make when trying to analyse Identities and E.G.O based on their Sins - they assume that those Sins have the same meanings in the context of Limbus as the popular, more common interpretations of them.

And while, sure, some of them can definitely overlap with what one would expect them to be, I think relying on those during analysis instead of trying to understand what the game itself is trying to tell us by using those Sins as symbols is doing its storytelling a massive disservice.

Do I think my personal interpretations of the Sins are a 100% accurate reading? No, of course not. I can't see into the mind of Kim Ji-Hoon or whoever else at Project Moon might have been the mastermind behind deciding what Sins connect to what. I have no way of knowing what exactly they intended here.

However, I do wish to believe that my interpretations not only strive to meet the game's storytelling on its own terms, but also hopefully make further analysis based on those interpretations a bit easier to wrap one's head around.

...God I really need to stop writing massive preambles and just get to the fucking point.

So let's actually get to The Fucking Point. Sin Interpretations, one by one. Let's fucking do it.

Wrath

The flames of revolution burn bright in the face of cold winds.

Wrath is the Sin of self-righteousness and defiance. To act with Wrath is to decide that one deserves better, that things around then should bend to their will, and then take matters into their own hands. It's the Sin of deciding one has the right to change something simply because they don't like the current state of things.

There are many ways one can act because of Wrath. It can show through trying to rebel against authority, to subvert one's fate, to escape one's unfavorable circumstances, or to even reject one's own true nature. To act with Wrath is to stand up for oneself and tell reality "No, I refuse!" loud and clear.

A common misconception of Wrath is the idea that anger is an inherent part of it. While it's true that those feelings often coincide with defiance, they're not required for one's acts to be fueled by Wrath. Some can be Wrathful while being completely calm and collected, as their acts of defiance could be more on the quiet and simmering side.

Likewise, being quick to anger isn't always a sign of Wrath. It's very possible for someone to have a short temper, while also being fully accepting of the reality they live in (Ryoshu, I am looking directly at you), thus lacking Wrath.

Lust

One's base insticts go all the way back to that genetic code.

Lust is the Sin of self-indulgence. It's the Sin of letting one's own desires and whims dictate one's actions. It's also the Sin of seeking personal fulfillment above all else. To act with Lust is to give up one's self-control and let one's instincts and wants guide them.

Unlike what the name and symbol might initially imply, Lust can include many different types of desires, not just the carnal.

Likewise, acts of Lust can be just as varied as one's desires. Satisfying one's most basic of needs, searching for a form of spiritual enlightenment, or even just saying the first thing that comes to mind because one feels like it are just a few examples.

Sloth

A stone will not care for what happens to it, nor the world around it.

Sloth is the Sin of apathy and resignation. Unlike other Sins, which mostly show through one's direct actions, Sloth can also show through inaction.

To act with Sloth is to ignore reality, to let oneself go along with whatever is happening with barely any complaints. As such, Sloth is commonly associated with blind obedience or unwillingness to act out.

Due to its nature as a Sin of resignation, Sloth can be seen as the direct opposite of Wrath, the Sin of defiance. This creates a unique situation where the inclusion of one can drastically shift the context of the other if both are a part of the same Identity or E.G.O.

Gluttony

Plants never stop waging wars, always wanting just a little bit more.

Gluttony is the Sin of hunger, and it's unique from the other Sins in that it equally represents two different ideas of that hunger, which can appear together just as often as they can be completely seperated.

The first type of Gluttony is one of the starving hunger of survival. In this context, to act with Gluttony is to do anything for the sake of scraping by and living to see another day.

The second type of Gluttony is the hunger for more, or in other words: greed. In this context, to act with Gluttony is to do everything for the sake of this idea of "more". To gain more wealth, to find more recognition, to make more progress.

Both of these types of Gluttony are unified in one main point - they are, by definition, endless. The struggle for survival never ends, unless one fails to survive. Likewise, there is no finite "more" that greed is reaching towards, it's a neverending process of one-upmanship.

Gloom

When a wave of emotion rises, many will be swept away in its wake.

Gloom is the Sin of dwelling on feelings. To act with Gloom is to be guided by one's negative emotions, to buckle under stress and let it control one's mind and actions.

While sadness, grief, and depression are the states of mind most commonly associated with Gloom, and are often a part of it, they're not inherent to it. The only "requirement" here is the experience of severe emotional duress, and acting out in direct response to it.

In a way, Gloom is the Sin of losing control over oneself, not dissimilar to Lust. However, the main difference here is the cause of losing that control. Gloom is the loss of self-control due to being overwhelmed by negative experiences, while Lust is the loss of self-control due to seeking out positive experiences.

Pride

Be careful, for that double-edged sword may cut you as well.

Pride is the Sin of ignoring consequences. Acts of Pride are all actions taken because of the belief that their benefits outweigh the cost in some way. While the most common way this can present is through actions that benefit oneself at the cost of others, it's not the only way Pride can manifest.

One can be Prideful when believing the benefit to many outweighs the consequences. Likewise, refusing to acknowledge the harm one brings to themself because their actions benefit them in some other way also counts as Pride.

The idea that Pride is inherently tied to selfishness or self-confidence is another common misconception. In fact, Prideful acts can manifest just as often from a lack of self-confidence or a misguided selflessness. Rather, one could interpret Pride as a form of willful ignorance, in a way.

Envy

Thorns don't go out of their way to harm, they merely react to your touch.

Envy is the Sin of reaction and retribution. It's the idea of doing something because of what someone else has done. By definition, one cannot act with Envy without some form of provocation.

Like is the case with many other Sins, acts of Envy can take many forms, from taking revenge to following orders. The main connecting idea here is letting oneself be influenced by another person, whether it's being coerced, provoked, ordered, or otherwise manipulated.

Out of all of the Sin misconceptions, seeing Envy as inherently tied to jealousy might be the worst one of all. While acts done out of jealousy would likely count as acts of Envy, they are but a miniscule part of the sheer scope that Envy represents.

...

Alright, so you know what each of those Sins means. Now it's time to figure out how to Actually Apply Them.

Sin Affinities in the context of Identities

The main way Sins play a role in a given Sinner's Identity is through their Sin Affinities. Mechanically, these are the Sins attributed to each of their skills, signifying both their type of Sin damage and what Sin resource they generate upon being used.

However, this is Project Moon we're talking about, and these fuckers can't keep their gameplay mechanics seperate from the story to save their lives.

So, this begs the question: what can we learn about a Sinner's given Identity through their Sin Affinities?

Here is the method that I believe works best in my experience:

The Sin affinities of each of an Identity's skills represent a different layer of their psyche and motivations. I'm going to try to show what I mean by using base Identities of the four Sinners who already had their own Canto.

Skill 1's Sin Affinity is the surface level motivation of the Sinner's actions. This is the most obvious and "shallow" reading of them and their actions, and also likely the one the Sinners themselves are most aware of.

Gregor's Skill 1 is Gloom due to him being constatly haunted by his trauma, with much of his cynicism and dark-ish sense of humor being shaped by his war experiences. Rodya's Skill 1 is Gluttony due to her tendency to value material goods and love for food, which are signs of her greed and will to survive respectively. Sinclair's Skill 1 is Pride due to him taking many actions (such as sharing his father's secrets or giving Kromer his basement key) for their immediate benefits, without considering the consequences. Yi Sang's Skill 1 is Gloom due to him falling into deep depression and letting the trauma of the past shape his current actions.

Skill 2's Sin Affinity is a deeper motivation of the Sinner's actions. It's delving deeper into their psyche to see what guides them in less obvious ways. This Sin Affinity can also have noticeably closer ties to the Sinner's background in one way or another.

Gregor's Skill 2 is Gluttony due to him being driven by the will to survive, most notably expressed by him leaving the rest of the veterans to escape the war and try to live after it ended. Rodya's Skill 2 is Pride due to her fully believing in what she does working out in her favor, completely ignoring consequences on the way. Her killing the pawnbroker is the biggest example of an act of Pride, as she fully believed that it would help her neighbourhood despite the consequences that murder would bring. Sinclair's Skill 2 is Wrath due to him not accepting his circumstances. His want to defy his future prosthetics procedure is what eventually led him to agreeing with Kromer, and his will to defy her is what drove him through the events of his chapter. Yi Sang's Skill 2 is Envy due to his passive nature and how easily he lets other people dictate his actions. It's especially notable in how after the League fell apart, he would have been willing to do anything Gubo told him at that moment.

Skill 3's Sin Affinity is what I would like to call a Sinner's Core Sin. It's the true main reason behind their actions, and has a much closer and direct tie into their past than the other Sin Affinities. In a way, this is the deepest layer of their psyche.

Gregor's Skill 3 is Sloth as his resignation to his circumstances is what colors much of his past. He learned that resistance is futile early in life, and it shows. Though he didn't want to fight in the war, he felt like he had no choice but to. All of his life, he simply listened to orders without complaint, unable to see a way to change his situation. Rodya's Skill 3 is Wrath as her self-righteousness and defiance is what drove her actions at the deepest level. She first joined the Yurodiviye because she wanted to bring change the state of her neighbourhood, and likewise left them when she no longer agreed with how they did things. Her murder of the pawnbroker was her biggest act of defiance, of taking matters into her own hands and trying to bring change to her reality at all cost. Sinclair's Skill 3 is Envy as much of his actions were dictated by other people. Social pressure was what led to him first breaching the trust of his family, and Kromer's coercion and manipulation is what then led to his family's death. In a way, you could also interpret Sinclair's arc in Canto III as one big act of Envy, as he finally tries to take revenge on Kromer for what she has done. Yi Sang's Skill 3 is Sloth as his apathy to the reality around him is what led to him ignoring the warnings signs of the League falling apart, and the resignation that followed could have resulted in him helping Gubo and the New League out with their horrible plans had there not been an intervention. It's only by the end of Canto IV that he finally manages to break out of this state for long enough to stand up for himself and decide to keep on living.

So, that's the basics of Sin Affinities when it comes to Identities! Now, some of you might be asking, "Hey Lu, what about Sin resources needed for Passives?", and my answer to that is...

Honestly, I don't entirely know! I do think there probably is some reason beyond pure gameplay mechanics... Buuuuut I don't think their importance is as major as the main Sin Affinities of a given Identity, especially since there isn't a single Passive that is activated by a Sin that the given Identity doesn't have any Affinity to.

Sin Affinities in the context of E.G.Os

Alright, so, when it comes to E.G.O, we run into some additional complexities. Unlike Identities, which can usually have their Sins Analysed with minimal additional context, E.G.O Sin Analysis has to be done under a specific angle.

This is because while Identities represent the Sinner as a whole person, E.G.Os represent a specific singular part of that Sinner.

Base E.G.Os usually seem to tie back to a specific event or action or some other thing in that Sinner's past. Likewise, E.G.Os derived from Abnormalities represent the ways that Sinner connects to that Abnormality's own themes.

In a way, the game's worldbuilding even acknowledges the fact that a Sinner can only use the E.G.O of an Abnormality they relate to in some way, as Dante's Notes describe the process of the Sinners using E.G.O as trying to make the Abnormality's emotions and identity their own.

That little tangent aside, there are two main things to analyze sin-wise when it comes to E.G.O - the Sin Affinity, and the Sin Resources necessary to use that E.G.O.

An E.G.O Sin Affinity works similarly to an Identity's Sin Affinities - for a Base E.G.O, it's the main Sin that action manifests as. For an Abno-derived E.G.O, it's the Sin that contextulizes the way the Abno's themes connect to the Sinner in question.

The Sin Resources an E.G.O needs is where things get fun. These are what a Sinner needs to be able to use the E.G.O, both mechanically AND story-wise. The Sins here represent what a Sinner has as their motivation and drive to fully reflect what that E.G.O represents. For Base E.G.Os, it's why they took the actions they did. For Abno E.G.Os, it's why they connect to that Abno's themes and why they're able to relate to it.

Now... There is one more thing about E.G.Os that I don't really talk about.

Sin Resistances.

The reason why I don't talk about them... Is because I have No Fucking Clue how to interpret them. There has to be some importance to them (Hong Lu being weak to Wrath in all of his E.G.O thus far, I am looking at you), I just don't know what it is. In fact, I doubt we even have enough information available to us right now to be able to say for sure.

I don't know how to end these posts dear fucking lord-

So uh. Yeah. That's. Everything that I think is important to mention on the topic of Sin Analysis and how I do it. If I ever change my mind on something or have an epiphany regarding one of the things I currently have no idea about, I'll probably reblog this post with an addendum or something, but until then...

Uh. Yeah. Hope this helps the people who wanna get into analyzing Limbus stuff but don't know where to begin. Or just people who wanna understand the method to my madness a little bit better.

I'm gonna go to sleep now, cause it's 4 AM already and I spent like the whole fucking night writing this post.

#limbus company #limbus company project moon #lcb analysis #lcb canto iv #lcb spoilers #lu speaketh #god help me

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jazeswhbhaven · 29 days

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It saddens me to say lovelies...that the future of this account...is that of a concerning fate....

WAKE UP LOVELIES

...it's the first of the month....

This account for one isn't going anywhere btw. Had to make a little jokey joke because april fools day y'know.

I do have some updates though since I always give them for each month. 💖

First, I've finally made it to 500 follows??? Thank you all for being amazing and showing up and showing out for the love on all my drabbles, request answers, just anything. Especially my brain rot. A couple of things I'd like to address for this blog as it grows is the following:

-this is a judgement free zone within reason. i have my boundaries and strong opinions that may pop up, my intention isn't to be 'hoiler than thow' or wave fingers (i mean i'm playing a demon sex game hello?) but at the same time, there's some stuff that just ain't it and i will bring it up if i feel the need to to establish my limits.

-i am only one admin with audhd and a fucked up sleep schedule. so i may be late to the hype, right on it, or it's two days later and i'm catching up. that's just how it is

But I welcome you, and if you're new...enjoy your stay, it's wild here.

NOW onto my requests/inbox

If you've checked my pinned there's been updates. As of today, any request sent from now until the end of the month will not be answered until May in the order received. Any requests you see posted during April are old ones I hadn't gotten to. I'm working this month on how to organize requests, and make sure I stick to my waiting times as per stated or throw them out. I like working on requests, it gives me something to do. However I really wanted to focus on creating my own content for the blog, that's what I started this entire thing for (if any of you remember my old now shadowbanned blog) that was the base of it. Which segways into this next bit. I am dangerously shifting into burn out mode....

The thing about being nuerodivergent and on medications for different illnesses, and while trying to build a healthier lifestyle, I am constantly battling wanting to keep up with my writing peers on posting fics, answering requests, being a part of a fandom again.

But ngl the numbers are killing me. I get anxious about getting a huge following and then coming up short cause I know how it gets. Hard criticism, parasocial relationships, hate follows, that shit haunts me. So when I try to answer ya'lls request quickly I sit here at my computer numb and brain full of fog because I simply can't think of how to answer. That's been happening a lot. And truthfully April is never a good month for me. I just want to coast this month...be minimally busy as possible and just not think much. To rememdy that, this is why I have decided to take an entire month off taking any new requests. A reset. Trying to find that balance. I need it before I crack.

Andddd now for some light hearted stuff.

It's my birthday month!

idk if I'll be doing a special thing on this blog during that time, but if I do, you'll know~ Beel's birthday is on the 4th btw so that's really cool we share the same month ^^ Got him on the quiz, both of us have adhd, and now the same birthday month. He just wants me to surround myself around him huh? i don't mind that tho. that's my boo.

To end this long ass post, stay awesome, stay lovely, and enjoy my brain rot and stupid reacts 😘

-your lovely admin, ♥( ˆ⌣ ˆԅ)

#jwhbhaven blog updates🖤#blog update #life update #whb blog #whb #woooo lets go

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saltygilmores · 11 days

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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 3, Episode 8, Part 4: "Let The Games Begin", the part where Lorelai says that if Jess was trapped inside her burning house she would save her shoes first

Lorelai Gilmore, you are no Jack Pearson. I won't complete that thought, even though I'm feeling nice and mean and I totally should.

Scene: Lorelai and Rory are discussing the upcoming road trip to New Haven with the Gilmore Grands. Rory forgot to pack. Lorelai goes into panic mode. Rory questions why she needs to pack her entire closet for a short road trip. Lorelai recounts a family vacation story from her childhood that would be best unpacked in a lengthy therapy session, frets that her mother will lecture them for under-packing, starts rummaging through Rory's dresser. Rory catches Lorelai making a double entendre about a meaty taco and declares it was dirty. The show makes another dig at New Haven after Lorelai brings home a pamphlet about Exciting Things to Do In New Haven but it's only a few pages long.

You sound surprised, as if ya'll aren't wearing heavy coats and long sleeves in the spring and summer. I swear there's something in the drinking water affecting everyone's thyroids in this town, they can't regulate their body temperatures.

Could anyone tell I'm stalling here? Classic Salty.

Rory: Mom, stop rummaging through my shit. Awwwe. Even Evil Villains like Lorelai Gilmore get the blues. I'm surprised she decided to go on this road trip to Yale instead of sending Rory off alone with the Grands, that way she'd have the house and Dean Forrester to herself the entire day. Since Dean's sexual stamina only extends to 1-2 minutes, they could have had sex hundreds of times in a day.

Two quips that sprang to mind (couldn't decided which one was better): The only words Lorelai is thinking about right now are "Dean" and "Shower". Lorelai thinks Jess removed Rory's bracelet while they're in the shower together? Jess could only hope.

Excuse me for a moment... *deep inhale*

I went into the Tumblr gifs library and looked up "peaceful". Here is a nice, presumably not-evil, Peaceful Bunny.

So not only does Jess commit attempted vehicular homicide, and steal Quarters on a String, he steals said QOAS by forcibly ripping them directly off the wrists of poor unsuspsecting delicate young ladies.

Nice try. You think you're so slick, but you're not, Slick Gilly.

You all don't understand the effort it takes for me to break down a scene like this without taking the cowards way out and simply rage quitting (which I have done before). I have to come up with multiple lines of witty, cutting commentary about what is unfolding before me, when all I want to do is KEYBORD SMASH. SO, YOU KNOW WHAT I WILL!! ITS A FREE COUNTRY ISNT IT! BALD EAGLE BASEBALL APPLE PIE! (Deep inhale) sagfshafgahfgasvxzcywtryqwuhajlkansjbkfagsfyafvabsfvsdgr2347527q2y4q#&$T%#^%^#*U@(%)&@tGSHFBSHFSVAGFSFS FUCKYOULORELAIGILMORE#^&#^%&#^WGHFSHGAS@$%@^@

Thank for reminding the audience the reason why Lorelai thinks Jess should, ya know, die painfully and slowly. He was mouthy once. (the Netflix captions borked the line; Rory also said "and wrecked my car", but as if that makes Lorelai's treatment of Future Nephew any more justifable).

I am told that in a later season, Lorelai bemoans the fact that unlike Dean, Jess never offered to change her water bottle for her. NOW WHY WOULD HE DO THAT? YOU'RE ABOUT TO WISH HIM A FIREY DEATH. AND WHEN HE WAS (FORCIBLY) APPOINTED TO CLEAN YOUR GUTTERS YOU DIDN'T WANT HIS HELP..

Lorelai practically moans this, lol. We know "Change the water bottle" can mean two very different things. You ain't so slick, Slick Gilly.

Welcome to Gaslighting and Emotional Manipulation Theater! See, here's the thing Slick Gilly, I watched an entire frigging episode about you accusing Jess of being a thief, it was called Lost and Found and it took me four frigging centuries to finish, I'm quite sure I have concrete evidence that you have accused him of stealing things. I am Jess Mariano's defense attorney and I will see you in court. Bring Rory too, she should also start getting used to what a court room looks like.

Rory, honey. Sweetie. Sugar bear. It's best you don't wish for a crystal ball. Just strap in to the rollercoaster that is dating Jess Mariano while living with your mother, and pray.

See, here's the thing Slick Gilly, I watched an entire frigging episode about you not letting Jess enter your house, it was called Swan Song and it will take me four frigging centuries to rewatch it.

This "Jess talks in grunts" shtick is getting old and moldy.

So not only does Jess commit attempted vehicular homicide, steal Quarters on a String, and steal said QOAS by forcibly ripipng them directly off the wrists of poor unsuspsecting delicate young ladies, but he's also an arsonist, and not only is he an arsonist, he's such a bad one that he'll apparently be killed by his handiwork? (he also can't be trusted to clean gutters). He was probably trying to off himself instead of live in Stars Hollow for another minute. Can we recall another time Rory tried to play this same grim hypothetical with her mom? Does Rory, like Jess, also have some kind of firey death wish? I mean, who can blame either of them. *twinkly flashback music to early season 2*

I notice Pigtails didn't say "my daughter" this time, either. Sorry Rory. Maybe try playing a third time until she answers with "Some form of human life." Lorelai lies to Rory's face that she "promised you before and am promising you again that I will cut "this kid" some slack." Alright, I ran through my 30 screen shots, let's stuff this scene in a sack and throw it into the lake with Shane and her swan family.

Rory: "You're just waiting for the day I break up with Jess." Lorelai The Villain: "Did I like Dean? Yes. Did I worry less when you were with dean? Yes! I never expected you to be with Dean forever. I don't expect you to be with Jess forever." What a pile of rancid baloney. Maybe he won't be with Rory forever, but 13 years later Jess becomes her nephew and will be a part of her family forever and I will never, ever, ever stop loving that. What JUSTICE.

When I hit my lowest of low valleys listening to this wretched woman spew her many lies and Gilly-Nonsense, It's often the only thing that makes me smile.

#jess mariano #literati #gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 3 #let the games begin #ltgb #now I just have to suffer through the ridiculous shit fit she has at Yale

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to-the-stars8 · 2 years

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Learning to Love Slowly

Jason Todd x Reader All Chapters AO3 A/N; I'm sorry ya'll but I'm using the author's notes to rant but it legit has been the most stressful week of my life rip. Like I'm about to butt-ass naked fist fight in a Denny's parking lot stress, that's all that needs to be said.

I do want to know ya'lls opinion while I'm balls deep in the thought of it, but I'm thinking about a Batmom series that's kind of set up like this one, sort of a slow burn, slow climax type of thing. That and seriously getting started on a real regency story for Jason? These have been on my mind for a while tbh Also pls excuse my ranting I need to vent somewhere and I like to vent here.

24- Dresses and the Strongest Man in Gotham

Jason watched from his bed as you tried on clothes for family dinner tomorrow night. As you changed in front of him, he almost shamelessly stared at you as you undressed and dressed, finding every new inch of skin as beautiful as before. He was so distracted by your body that he hardly heard you point out how each outfit was worse, or better than the last.

You were trying on a sweet, casual pink dress, turning and twisting in the mirror to try and see it from every angle. Quickly it had become one of Jason’s favorites. The neckline was deep, showing off some celevage that he much appreciated, and a bit short all round the skirt. So when you bent over he got a perfect view of your blue laced underwear.

“Too much boob,” You mumbled, already pulling it over your head.

He snickered. “Not enough, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes. “For you maybe, my darling, but I don’t want to accidentally flash the man of Gotham, Bruce Wayne. Or worse, Alfred!”

Jason laughed. “You really don’t need to dress up. Just put on something casual.”

“I am!” The words were tired from the stress. “I’m trying to, anyway.”

You weren’t only anxious about what to wear, but what to do. Jason had assured you that you didn’t need to act in a posh or fancy way, but be yourself. Dick liked you, and, most importantly, Alfred liked you, too. That fact itself was good enough.

The moment he had told you of family dinner on Friday anxiety overcame you. You were adamant that meeting his whole family at once was a lot more than he let on. You wanted to be perfect, to at least look perfect. Jason found it incredibly hard to explain to you that it was already impossible for you to become something you already were. Yet, you chose not to believe it. Though, when you showed up on his doorstep asking to try on clothes for him, he would never say no.

You tried on another dress, this one a lot more casual and modest than the last, and turned to show Jason. He got up to walk over to you, taking you by the hips to turn you back toward the mirror.

“Beautiful,” Jason leaned into the nape of your neck, pressing a kiss there. It was light, but it made the hair on your arms stand up.

“Jason,” You sighed, reaching up behind you to lock your fingers into his curls. “Kiss me?”

Damn, like he could say no when you asked so desperately. Leaning your head back by your chin, Jason placed a chaste kiss on you lips. You moaned at the sensation of his lips on yours and leaned up for another, but he pulled away with a smile.

“This dress with those earrings you have on would look great.”

You looked back to the mirror, smiling. “A vigilante, an amazing, sweet guy, and now a fashion expert? Multi-talented you are Jason Todd!”

“You haven’t even gotten to the best part of talents yet,” Jason teased, albeit in a more joking manner.

You giggled. “Don’t let Alfred hear you joke like that tomorrow night.”

Jason only snorted before turning you back around just as he did before, by your hips. You leaned forward a bit, letting him decide whether or not he wanted to press his lips to yours. He did, though briefly.

“Do you think they’ll like me?” You asked, reaching up to play with the strings on Jason’s hoodie. “Your younger brothers and sisters at least.”

Jason grinned. He liked that you wanted his family to like you, but their opinion wouldn’t mean a whole lot if they didn’t wholly. “They will.”

“Good. That gives me a bit of confidence,” You stood straighter, running your hands flat against the front of your dress before deflating again. The blue complemented you, and it nice enough for a family dinner. Your mom would have approved of it, anyway, but that didn’t feel enough. What if they were worried about you exposing their identities to the world, or that you were too basic to be dating Jason?

“I hope you are ready for a million and one questions,” Jason said as he walked back across the room to his spot on the bed.

Sighing, you walked over to yours. “No! I’m nervous. It feels like a thousand butterflies are going crazy in my stomach,” You groaned, taking the pillow from behind him and putting it over your face. “I’m so anxious I think I’m going to throw up.”

Jason leaned over, pulling the pillow away from you. “You’ll be fine.”

“What-what if they think I’m lame?”

He thought for a moment. “I guess that would make me lame, too.” You groaned, taking the pillow back from him to bury your face in it. Jason chuckled, before saying, “I’m kidding. They won’t think that. Dick thought you were really cool. Nice, too.”

Pulling back the pillow just enough so he could see your eyes, you asked, “Really?”

“Yes!” Jason looked away discerningly. “Almost made me jealous when he wouldn’t stop talking about you to Alfred.”

“Oh,” You said, now more interested. Give you a side glance, he nodded his head slowly and you pushed away the pillow completely. “You shouldn’t be.”

“I know.”

“Cause you’re a lot hotter and cuter,” You stated in a matter of fact tone.

Jason grinned. “That right?”

“It’s a fact. You can’t change facts.”

Not being able to help it, he leaned forward a bit, waiting for you to meet his lips. You did, in the sweetest way possible. You kissed his cheeks first, then his chin before slowly pressing a kiss to his lips.

Jason touched your hip, running a hand up and down your side. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. They’ll love you.”

It was insanely scary to meet the whole family that ran nights in Gotham, anyone would be freaked out, especially with six protective younger siblings. You still were being eaten away by anxiety, but looking at the sincereness in Jason’s eyes made you feel a bit less so. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, after all, Jason said I had already gotten one of the strongest men in Gotham to like you. Now, all you had to do was impress the strongest man in Gotham’s son, Bruce Wayne.

#jason fluff #jason todd x you #robin jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd #romance #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth

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wormswurld · 4 months

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songs i associate with cattonquick 🌟

so i am absolutely obsessed w cattonquick (obviously) so here's some songs i associate with them & my favorite lyrics that go with it! i hope ya'll enjoy cuz this satlburn brainrot is REAL.

"flames so hot that they turn blue palms reflecting in your eyes, like an endless summer that's the way i feel for you"

"loving me is all you need to feel like i do"

"sweet thing, i watch you burn so fast, it scares me"

and the iconic line "mind games, don't leave me come so far, don't lose me...it matters where you are"

"i don't feel like myself, I'm not gonna lie how would you know? it doesn't show"

"oh, please ignore me, i'm just feeling sorry for myself"

"he could be cool and cruel to you and me knew we'd put up with anything"

and the SOUL CRUSHING LINE "i wanna hurt him, i wanna give him pain, i'm a roman candle, my head is full of flames"

#i have so many more songs…#like these are all so real #saltburn posting #cattonquick #felix catton #felix x oliver #saltburn #jacob elordi #oliver quick #barry keoghan #lana del rey #elliott smith #the 1975 #matty healy #songs #song lyrics #lgbtqia #spotify #wormswurld posts 🌟

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shutupheathersorryheatherr · 1 year

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"Secrets in everything: Letters, neighbors, and things only walls will tell you"

Hello everyone! I'm so sorry that i haven't posted a fic in a while! it seems like i only post one every two to four weeks at this point ughhhh anyways ive written this fic for a friend but also for yall as well so i hope yall like it! after this fic im gonna work on an ask then so ill hopefully have that up soon for the person who sent it in! A little picture collage will be coming VERY soon lmao i didn't have time to make one yet. This fic all started when i was having some Minghao brain rot and stumbled upon this prompt about wifi names: "apt 203 is loud as fuck" "apt ??? say it to my face bitch" strangers to lovers and shit ya know? i cannot express how sorry i am that this is late! I put it in my que and since it didn't post when i wanted it to, i tried posting it on my own and it wouldn't let me. in summery: never using que again

anyways here are the warnings/info: cursing, smut, Very heavy on the smut, speaking of sex like it's something you need and not just want if you squint, slightly hinted at romance between hao and reader i guess idk, but you could just as easily read it as friendly affection, Minghao gets drunk and is a wee bit stupid, reader is on top, reader is referred to using they/them pns but has a vagina and tits, and a very nice ass that minghao likes to grab throughout this fic lmao, Minghao is thirsty for reader, reader is thirty for Minghao, Minghao keeps how he made the wifi name a secret from reader but it eventually comes out at the end, mutual masterbation.... through a wall if that makes sense, oral sex (f. receiving) hand job, protected sex (be safe, ya'll), shitty ending lol, friends to friends with benefits, writing out sex dreams? Minghao says something while drunk and can’t undo it although he wants to

~this is simply a piece of fiction. My imagination onto “paper”. This is in no way is meant to be taken as an actual and real representation of anyone~

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Thoughts lead to desires, desires lead to actions. Thats what kept replaying itself in Minghaos head the second he hit enter on his phone to change his wifi name. He'd heard it when he was a kid. Somewhere he couldn't quite remember. But now, suddenly, it was burning so fresh in his mind he couldn't get it out. He sighed to himself as he put down his cup. Looking down at his phone screen with and various other wifi names popping up bellow the words he cannot believe he just wrote. "apt303isloudasfuck"

He really shouldn't be doing this. This is why he shouldn't drink, he thinks to himself. Especially since whenever he saw you rushing out to work or school, or wherever you carried yourself to each morning. He swears his heart does a flipping routine.

And this? If you found out it was him telling everyone in the radius of your apartments that you're loud? It could ruin whatever you two don't already have. He thinks that maybe he'll just try his best not to be seen by you. Like, ever again. The problem with that though is how you both need to leave at about the same time to get to wherever you're going. And besides, maybe he did kinda want to mess around with you a little bit. Maybe that'll teach you to keep it down. If it wasn't loud music then it was some... other noises. Sounds of you, moaning and groaning. Making a mess of yourself behind his wall. Or, maybe somebody was the one making your words incorrect and moans fall from your lips.

or maybe the latter was your roommate. Cause as much as he didn't want to admit it, he didn't want to believe it was you who was getting pleasured by other people. Cause damn, he really wanted to be the one making you moan like that. He didn't even know you, so who's making you cum shouldn't be any of his concern. And it wasn't! Much. He wants to be the one making you feel good, bringing you to orgasm with his tongue. And he didn't like to think about the fact that other men were making you feel the way he wanted to.

But, none the less, whenever he did hear you, with only the thin sheetrock wall between each of your headboard. Thin enough to where he could hear you so clearly as if you were right there in front of him. He sure did enjoy the verbal show you put him through; fisting his cock until his tears made him bleary eyed and he couldn't take it anymore- his hand drenched with own cum from orgasming a million times along with you but still never feeling relived. So he always kept going until the pain of overstimulation was too much to bare. For you, all for you.

That was when one night he realized he didn't hear anyone else moaning along side you. Come to think of it he never really did. Sure, sometimes but not every night. that meant you were pleasuring yourself? The sounds started so suddenly he didn't have time to react. The thought of your fingers pleasuring yourself, pumping them in and out of you, covered with your slick and rubbing your clit? It drove him crazy, It was music to his ears. He could listen to your beautiful sounds forever.

He didn't even have the time to pause the show he was watching on his phone, taking his other headphone out of his ear so quickly that it landed off the surface of the bed. Where his headphones ended up wasn't really a concern for him. Cause in that moment all he could think about was you. He could always rewind it later. That is, if he ever could stop pleasuring himself to the echoes of your voice, even after you stopped. Cause for him, once he started he could never stop with you. You were too addictive for him. The way to talked, the way you'd always leave a little note with the bundle of mail you'd drop off at his door when ya'lls would get mixed up. Whenever he'd come home to see it he couldn’t have been more glad for apartment numbers to get mixed up and a mail person who did their job a little too quickly at your building sometimes. Albeit he was a little sad he didn't catch you; but he liked the look of your handwriting-- it was cute, he thought.

but fast forward a little later and he’s starting to write back. And not just when you mail gets mixed up, either. Just little sticky notes he taps on your door ending with smiley faces and exclamation points. You start writing him back, too. And before you two know it you’re sharing notes ripped out of full notebooks with arrows pointing to the back because you still have more to say but never enough room. He seems so easy and just oh so caring through this words the more you two find yourselves awaiting the pages you’d put in the others mail boxes. Finding yourselves excited more and more for the familiar hand writing inked on clean white paper. You two talk about anything and everything. But don’t be fooled, cause minghao spends the better half of his dinner time making sure each and every letter in his letters to you are legible. He feels like a little schoolboy trying to impress you with his neat handwritten and well detailed sentences. But he can’t help it; he just wants you to think he’s somebody. Somebody worth spending your time with and talking to. He doesn’t know why but he feels like, especially with the more he’s talking to you, he wants you to view him as someone cool. Great, he thinks. Now he definitely sounds like a little kid.

would you mind? He asks himself. Would you mind that he’s a little desperate for you? So desperate that he lays in bed and stays awake a little longer now because he wants to hear your sweet voice react as you pleasure yourself again for the hundredth time? He hopes not. But, just like that new Wi-Fi name he’s chosen for his router, that’ll stay between him and his apartment’s ceiling. The thing he looks up at in both instances. Sometimes when he gets reminded of what you’d think of him if you if it ever got out that he wrote the “apt303isloudasfuck” and how he doesn’t understand why he still has it up. And the other time he looks up at the ceiling is with his mouth agape, his lips wet from his tongue running over them with each torturing stroke of his hand over his bulge in his pants. The fabric constricting him to were it was painful every time. But not wanting to stop touching himself for long enough to slip down his pants. (The response on the Wi-Fi thing only comes after they talk o each other face to face. “…and when he checked his phone again, looking down at the bright alumina red screen with tires eyes, there was another name quite similar to the one he put down as his one. ‘Apt???sayittomyfacebitch’

he slammed down his phone onto the nearest surface (which just happened to be his lap. Yeah… not the best idea) but believe it or not he wasn’t really thinking about that right now. You responded?? Well, he doesn’t know who would call “apt???sayittomyfacebitch” a real response like oh, I don’t know, “yeah, my day’s going great.” But you noticed? Well then again it would be pretty hard to disregard when your apartment is getting dragged through the mud with a wifi name. But this made him even more worried. This means you’ve definitely seen it. And based on what you said…. You were probably looking for the person who wrote that. What if you found out it was him? Is this why you were taking an interest in him all of a sudden? No, he believed in his ability to conceal it from you enough to know you’d never find out. That’s when, with this new information clouding his good judgment he just had to grab the neatly folded paper from his bedroom desk and walk out his door. A little potted plant was the only thing separating yours and his places of residence from each other. One put up and watered every Saturday morning. He patted down the backside of his hair as he made sure not to ruin the paper he so neatly folded for you. Realizing he forgot tape to stick it to your door, he was About to go and get some when he heard movement behind the heavy door that lead into your apartment. rustling of footsteps and cloths. And before he knew it your face had appeared in front of him, door swung into your foyer. He couldn’t just leave now. You had seen him. So he tried his best to put on a not awkward smile as your eyes lit up the dim outside hallway he was standing in. Your presence seemed to replace the light bulb that had been missing the fast few days in the overhead lights. “Hey, Minghao. Nice to see you.”

you remembered his name?? His name? The person who let everyone know how loud your apt was? Of course you did. What else? You’d started off almost each and every letter to him with his name in one way or another. Oh great, now he was thinking about all of your letters to him. Everything you had shared with each other from the depths of both of your hearts. How the fucking hell was he supposed to look you in the eyes when you knew how, when he was in high school, he had fallen on his actual face trying to reach his pencil when it had fallen underneath his desk. Leaned too far out of his chair and then boom! Face planted. How was any human being supposed to look someone they considered a friend in the eye when all you two did was trade letters to each other because of your busy schedules? Not to mention how he’d been stupid enough to let it slip that he can barely open a bag of chips without it busting out the bottom too. But, he remembers, it did make you laugh. So maybe he could do this. He’d made you laugh and carried quite deep and just plain old nice conversations with you over letters for months. What was so hard about doing them with you face to face?

He gave you a smile as you slid to the side. “Hi. I was just dropping your note off.” He says. How could you be so cool calm and collected, he wondered. Meanwhile, you were asking yourself the same thing about your neighbor. The neighbor you couldn’t stop thinking about. The way he talked to freely with you, how you two just seemed to click after the first note; bouncing off of each others jokes and becoming friends. You’d considered giving him your number but you kind of liked getting to know him off paper through his best hand writing. You’d never tell him, but you secretly had a pile of folded papers in the top drawer of your desk you’d written out of him. Never sent. And probably, considering the contents of those letters, never will be. He shows you the folded note, this time on different paper, you notice. You take it out of his hands as you gesture for him to come inside. “Are you sure?” He gulps. You looked at him like he was crazy, shrinking back a little. “Dude, get inside.” You chuckled. He wasn’t usually like this. You think back to all the letters he’s sent you. And come up with not much to make you think he’d be like this around you. You certainly didn’t want him to be like that. after all you’ve talked about with each other you’ve come to know someone, even if it is only over paper… someone who you consider a friend. That’s another reason why you could never send him those letters. They had… things in there that two friends wouldn’t never think of the other. Or at least admit them out loud to them. But, with the way he handled himself now, which wasn’t that much different from his letters. But more uptight now that was standing by your coat hangers by the door and bending down to take off his shoes. You didn’t know what, but something was off with him. He was jittery, lol he had just snorted a two cups of sugar on the way out his door. His eyes darted around like he was in an awkward setting. So, you tried you best to make him as comfortable as possible.

you lead him through your apartment and into the living room. He took a deep breath. He wants to tell you that he’s not always like how he is now: palms sweating, and unable to talk much. You just overwhelm him to the point where his mind is clouded and his actions seem off. It shouldn’t be a problem for him though, you talk to each other multiple times a day. Like, full on conversations. But now it all feels just a little too real with you hovering over him as he sits down on your sofa, trying to remember that you’re both friends. He comes back to earth with you weave you hand in his face. You laugh nervously at his distraction. “You didn’t hear a thing I just said, did you?” Shit shit shit. This really isn’t a good look for him. “No,” he hangs his head low for a second, “im sorry I didn’t.” You lean back and seem to relax a little bit. It almost looks like you’re just as in need to relax as he is.

Just didn’t have have the horrible talent of not being able to hide it well. It wasn’t his fault. He was already trying his best not to get hard. Having to not act nervous and flustered over seeing your pretty faces too? That was a lot to ask of Minghao. That’s why he sat down. And why he was crossing his legs in hopes of trying to distract himself from the yearning for you inside him. For him to have all of you. For him to make you sound just like you do when he hears you in your room. God, all he ever dreamed of now was you writhing is pleasure above him as he tongued your clit. Or you wrapped some tightly around his cock he felt like you were trying to choke him and make him cum. “I said my roommate isn’t home.” Oh, so you did have one, “and asked if you wanted something to drink.” It made him feel strangely comforted though, that you also were feeling the same as him.

He agreed readily. Finding it easy to make room to spend more time with you. You came back not a couple minutes later and ploped down next to him, your chin in your palm. You didn’t want to admit it, but fuck he looked so beautiful in person. It made you wanna curl up on your sofa and immerse yourself in him all day. You’d be content with just staying here and doing just that, making up for All the missed times where you could’ve been already. But no, you kept yourselves mostly behind the pen and paper. Scribbles and commas became your only form of sight into what the other looked like. You didn’t even realize how long you’d been carrying out your plan to stare at him until he shifted a little farther back into the cushion. “Is it just me or is that way more awkward than it should be?” He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. And then getting a sickly little whispering reminder of how he was now: drink in hand, phone in reach— was not that unlike the situation where the secret he has to keep from you now came about. But no, he can’t think of that right now. He’s trying to keep his mind free of anything that could jeopardize your friendship. And thinking of the one thing he’ll never be able to tell you might do the trick if he doesn’t stop. But strangely, the idea of you finding out— the idea of you strongly telling him to take the fucking thing down doesn’t do anything but make him want you more inside. You telling him-- no, ordering him to take it down.He didn't know what or why, but it made him reach all new kinds of levals of excitement. Anticipation of what you could do to him. How you’d moan for him and writhe under his touch. The possibility we’re endless and he couldn’t stop thinking up new ones.

There’s an un spoken rule between the two of you… both of you made noise. Noise that neither of you really minded because it brought you so much pleasure. But in all your writings to each other, you’d never talk about it. That was the rule: don’t bring up what happens at night. A Thought Leeds to a desire, and a desire Leeds to an action. So you tried not to talk about it, no you even theirs noting to think about it, was there?

All you needed to do was get through this night. As... friends. Because that was what you two were-- friends. Noting more, noting less. Didn't matter than you imagined him every night you were alone and needed relief. Him and that cute smile of his. Him reaching up to fix the light in your little corner of hallway on your floor of your apartment. The way his shirt rode up, exposing his waist. God, you'd do just about anything to have his skin under your fingers. Feeling the softness of his tummy.

"So you said there's some shows you never got to watch because you dont have the streaming service?" You shook your mind out of its dangerous thoughts. providing an easier environment not to pounce on him; less... tempting when you were thinking of watching tv with him and not being on top of him. His shirt on the floor. He nods, leaning impossibly closer to your already heavy breathing form. Didn't he realize the effect he had on you? You gulped, hopefully not loud enough to hear. You didn't need this to go anywhere that wasn't what normal friends do. "My roommate pays for one of the places that show you were talking about plays on." You look him dead in the eyes as you reach for the remote.

You had planned on just doing so as a question to him weather he wanted to watch anything. But it turned into the most arousing staring contest youd ever been a part of. You looked into his eyes, forgetting to blink. You felt that if you did you might miss commenting about the way they flickered and shone. There was something else in them, though. His pupils were blown wide. somehow making his eyes even darker. You wondered what he could be thinking about. But that didn't really matter, did it? Because what you should've been focusing on was how to move away from him

You were so close you could feel his body heat like a radiator. How was he not sweating? You felt like the sun was right in front of you. Meanwhile, Minghao was wondering the same thing. The ac kicked on at just the right time because he didn't know how much longer he could keep himself from visibly overheating. That was the last thing he needed right now. You got up on your knees to reach for your glass. Why did you have to do things that drove him wild? Did you know deep down that you were torturing him with every move? It was stupid and desperate for him to have to control himself so much after the little you were giving him. It wasn't much, but it was teasing him. It all made him crave more. It was childish and desperate of him to be like this with you. But he didn't really care anymore. After knowing you-- even if it was only from swapping letters, he couldn't get enough of you. If you ever stopped taping letters to his door then he'd beg on his knees for you to continue. He didn't care that it seemed desperate because it was. He was. Desperate for more of you. Just like he was now. So much so that when you leaned forward again to pick up the remote to turn the volume up of a show that he'd been wanting to watch for months, but somehow with you it sounded like background noise. He couldn't pay full attention to it for the life of him because You were Right There. Next to him. Smiling and chuckling and genuinely enjoying what you were watching with him. The smile he hoped beyond compare that youd have when reading his letters. He'd only seen it a few times in person, but, a feeling bubbled up into his chest. The same one he feels every time reading your writings to him.

He felt and aching in his groin. If his eyes weren't as wide as saucers before, then they definitely were now. He didn't even need to look down. More afraid to than anything. If he took his eyes of either you or the tv-- things that he wanted to be real, things that were real... Well, he doesn't know what that'll do but he doesn't want to acknowledge it thats for sure. He really doesn't want it to be real. This cannot be happening. Not here, not right now. but How could he not be half hard when you could lean over and kiss him right now if you wanted and hed let you? How could he not be half hard right now with you looking so god damn otherworldly? When all these plush sofa cushions made him want to do was to bring you on top of him and rub you on his thighs and cock until you made a mess on his sweats? It was impossible. He searched whatever space was left in his near thought cleared, empty and short circuiting brain, using what he thought where his last few brain cells that weren't occupied with you to think of what to do about his problem. His eyes landed on a pillow on the back of your sofa, likely moved out of the way for more room. Quickly as to avoid suspicion, he glided it down from its perch and on top of his growing erection.

Little did he know that you had turned the tv up to drown out your own thoughts. Thoughts you didn't need of him. Never doing you any good other than frustrating you further. Making you desire him more. Nearly an hour later and you two had sunken further into the sofa... and each other. Thoughts lead to desire, and desires lead to action. That was what you had to keep repeating to yourself over and over until youd hopefully get the point to stop thinking of those beautiful, soft looking lips. Didn't help that his tongue was fucking darting out to wet them every two seconds. You couldn't help but stare at them. It wouldn't hurt if you just leaned a little closer, would it? Friends cuddle on their sofas while watching the tv all the time.

And your ac was running a little high. But instead of getting up to turn it down like you usually would have to, I don't know, not waste your money. You stayed just like how you were, grateful for the excuse you could readily have available to you if he asked. But to your surprise he didn't. Although he did press the pillow more firmly into his lap. If you didn't know better you would've thought the pillow was made of gold or something. Like it was his teddy bear or something. You couldn't even think of anything else besides how badly you wanted to push both the pillow and preferably also his shirt off of him and shove him down into the sofa.

This was pathetic, you thought. A new low for you, even. This was your first time spending more than a couple minutes with the guy face to face and... not like it was awkward. No, not at all. You had been friends for six months or so over letters. But being with him. No, being so fucking close to him on this damn sofa was making you desire him even more.

That was it, now! Great, you'd already crossed one line of thinking about what youd like to do to him. Now you were starting to desire it, too. Not much longer and you feared you'd take action on those thoughts and desires. You really needed to make your self think of anything anything that would save you from this self induced peril.

"Did you see that weird ass wifi name?" Your words almost made minghao jump out of his seat. Steadying his pillow over his lap (his stupid fucking boner still hadn't gone away) And clearing his throat, he finally responded. "Oh? That? No, I haven't. What is it?" He tried sounding airy, nonchalant, free as a bird. "You know, that wifi name that had popped up what, about six months ago?" You seemed to ask yourself the question, pausing for a minute before continuing, "Around the same time you and I started talking. It says-- actually, lemme pull it up right now. Its fuckin hilarious." You whip out your phone before he could say another word and before he could even take another calming deep breath you were reaching over him, check pressed up against his upper arm, showing him the wifi name he made but couldn't tell you about. Why does he keep it on there anyways? He doesn't really want to even admit the only to reason he's come up with to himself. One was that yeah, your apartment was loud and it felt nice to have this. Even if you could one day find out and ruin whatever this thing he had with you was. Number two was that maybe it did make him painfully hard to think about what youd do to him if you found out. Use his cock for your own pleasure for hours until he was crying from overstimulation? Tell him not to cum until you tell him to, touching him in ways that'll make him let out embarrassingly loud noises for you, telling him that if he came without permission youd punish him cause he was a bad boy? Everything that could happen? He couldn't get them out of his head

"That's weird." He chuckled, scratching behind his neck, "Never saw it." He seemed nervous. But you were kind of liking his blushing face and puppy dog eyes. But Really? You thought. For some reason, your shitty building interfered with even the best of wifi providers. So most people had to reconnect their devices to their wifis every once and a while. Maybe he was on a part of the building where it wasn't as bad? Or maybe he paid extra for better wifi? It didn't really matter.

A little later at you had gotten up to refill both of your drinks. Little did you know Minghao had followed right behind you. He didn't really know what that said about him, all he knew was that he didn't want to be separated from you just yet. Even if it only was for a few minutes. He hadn't had his fill of you. Though, he doesn't think he ever will. You could feel him behind you. His presence, just like every other time he talked to you, was heavy as lead in the air. You could smell his cologne, too. And you didn't mind that the smell would linger in your apartment and stick to your sofa for longer than he'd be here.

You didn't, however, really pay much mind to how close he was. Nor did he, honestly. Neither of you really could care or complain, though. As when you turned around you came face to face oh so closely with your houseguest. The gap between you was small enough to where the cups in your hands pressed neatly against his chest, making your knuckles dig into his skin enough to feel his body heat. Also close enough were you could feel how much he really enjoyed being so close to you. You backs away, not nearly as fast as someone caught in this situation would usually be like.

Although missing your presence so close to him, he knows he needs to pull away from you. You were probably grossed out because of him now. And yes, maybe one day he would've told you how he feels, this was not the way he wanted it to go at all! He can't believe he just did this-- not remember the thing he's been trying so hard to hide? He wishes he could go back in time and slap himself in the face for even thinking that getting up without something to cover his crotch was a good idea. To his surprise though, you smile at him knowingly. And before either of you has a chance to think about what you're doing, you pull him closer to you. Just like you had been before. Expect now theres no barriers of fear between the two of you.

His hands fall limp at his sides. Yours slide up his torso. Both of you wanted this; to move closer. But it seemed like just as before, neither were going to make the first move. But you liked him this close. And even if noting was going to come of what you had just done besides nervous laughs and turning heads in the future, you would be glad to have his body this close to yours in your memory. His hands ghost your hips. A shiver runs its way up your spine at the phantom touch. "Was that a good sigh?" He asks. Lost in the throw of everything about him, you hadn't even realized you had let one out. "Of course it is." You say, trying to bring him even closer. You see him swallow hard before bringing his lips closer to yours.

It takes all of your willpower-- a source that was already dramatically dwindling once he got here. To not yank him in and smash you lips to his. Something you've been wanting to do for a while. But with his hands planted so wonderfully on your hips: firm but still delicate enough to never crush a flower. You're not sure how much longer you can hold out. He takes the next step: leaning a little closer to you. By now your faces are mere inches apart. "This is bad..." He whispers, his fingers now hooked in your belt loops. Because, he knows that if he gives in now, he'll neve able able to stop. Wrapped around your finger. "Maybe," you whisper, tongue darting out to lick your lips, an act his eyes followed with concentration. You loved the look-- wide eyed and begging, it looked beautiful on him. You wanted more. "But this is the good kind of bad, hm?" You suggest. He nods slightly, still focused on your lips. Not like you aren't with his. As you close whatever gap was remaining between the two of you. Prohibiting you from being as close to him as you wanted. As you desired.

This felt so good, so natural. A blissful feeling you adored with all your heart. Even only a few seconds in. Minghao really wanted to take this slow, take his time with you. But the aching in his pants were starting to become painful. A glorious moment of feeling his lips on yours later and he's pushing you against your kitchen counter. His kisses becoming as urgent at yours. You never really tried to be gentle. After the first kiss-- the first second or two of him kissing you? You would be dumb to hold back.

He pressed himself into you even more. His knee slotting between your legs. His mouth was hot. Same as the growing feeling in the pit of your stomach. He parts his pretty lips-- the same ones youve had dream after dream of wrapped around your clit. You moaned into his mouth when he stopped gasping your belt loops like they were life support and griped your hips with newfound vigor. You deepen the kiss even more, something you weren't sure was possible.

His weight on top of you was driving you crazy. He pulled away from air, breathing heavy into your mouth. Your name on the tip of his lips. You couldn't stand not having them on you again. You felt his body tense when you pull him back to you. But this time your lips only ghosted his, fluttering over them. Only making him want you more. Before moving to the soft skin of his neck, leaving a trail of kisses there that made his body go slack against yours.

Your fingers prickled and tingled as you slid your hands up his bare back, his shirt already halfway untucked. His tongue explored your mouth with vigor. At a time like this you were grateful for the counter to support your weakening legs. Not like you were really thinking of that anyway now, though. All this time you only had one thing in your mind: to make him want you, to be on top of him making him moan for you without let up. But now you weren't too sure if you were going to be the only one doing so. You couldn't hold back anymore. You needed to feel some sort of friction. By now your underwear was soaked ; you could feel the fabric cling to your wet pussy. All you wanted was for him to take them off of you. Pulling them to the side to finger would be just as good. You didn't care, you just need something form him. Anything.

"Fuck--" You inhaled sharply, grinding your hips against his thigh. Your apartment was getting colder no doubt . But even with his back exposed neither of you were shivering. Both too lost in how you made each other feel. You couldn't seem to get enough of him. Even if you've been reading his letters every day. Your fingers made their way to his beautiful, soft hair-- hair only and angel would have. So pretty and otherworldly it seemed unreal under your fingertips. As he moved down to your next. Though his lips never seemed to want to leave yours. He spent a while on your jawline, kissing in the spot where your neck met your face until it was beautifully numb. The good kind of numb that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. The spot would no doubt the tinder later on in the day. But you felt oddly pleased to have a reminder of him on your skin for as long as you could. Even after going a little further down to lick and gently press his pretty lips to the front of your throat, he still chased your lips like a man deprived of your kisses as if he didn't have them a moment ago. But once he fully focusses on his task he is unstoppable.

Every drag of his tongue on your felt like a delicious mix between torture and heaven. The feeling he was making erupt inside you was like no other you'd ever felt. And you never wanted him to stop. Of course, with the first coherent though in your brain for him to never stop, he did. This time his eyes finding yours, having a question in them. You nod. and with that he goes even lower. Your color bone becoming wet and sticky with his saliva. You pull his hair down to keep him there. You're still moving on his thigh. But it isn't enough. Not like it ever was. God, what you'd do in that moment to have his mouth on your pussy. He emerged back up to your face, looking at your with needy eyes. A second later and his lips are on yours. He melts into you, begging looks never forgotten as you flip him around so that now he was flush with the counter. He makes a sound of agreement as you start working on his neck desperately, just like he had done with you. With the thought of his fingers, his thigh was long forgotten by the both of you. Now you didn't think that it could ever do justice when all you could think about is his slender fingers and how they were gliding up your sides right now.

He tilts his neck back to give your more access as he bucks his hips into you. Both things you wish you had thought of sooner. "I-I-" He mumbles, not really knowing what he was going to say anyways. Even with just your lips on his neck, words dying in his mouth, all he can think about is them as you make your way up and down his skin there. All he can think about is ho soft they are. All he can think about is how they'd feel wrapped around his aching cock that was now pressed up against you. And now that all hes thinking about is having more of you he can't help put let out a strangled moan, as it rips from his throat he realizes that it's probably too loud for something as little as you sucking on his neck. But at this point he doesn't really care. He just wants to you to know how good you're already making him feel.

As soon as you pull his shirt over his head was as soon as his expression changed. His eyes seem to focus on reality now, breathing starting to steady. The look of need and pure fucking lust for you stays the same though. You plan on making it stay that way again and again. Even if you don't get to do anything more than kissing with grinded with him. Just to see the look in your eyes would be enough to bring you to your high on your own. "I dont wanna do this here. bed?" he asks with puppy dog eyes. How could you refuse him?

he grips your ass and kneads it-- strong grip, but with a kind of softness you can't deny, as you lead him to your bedroom. More like stumble into it, your lips never leaving each other. Locked with the key thrown away. To involved in the kiss he nearly bumps into the door frame of your bedroom. You jerk him away, finding it endearing when he chases the plush of your pretty lips. He realizes the you’d just saved him a bump on the head. “Well, guess that’s on walking backwards. Maybe—“ no time to think. You grab his hands with a primal, animalistic strangled sound. You needed him. Now. You grind into his lap, trying to find some sort of relief in the fabric of his pants and the flesh of his thigh. “Ah— don’t stop” he whines out, head thrown back like this was the best thing in the world he’s ever felt. At your hands. you almost stop in surprise. But his words have such an effect on you that you don’t think you can. Now you have to keep feeling him.

He doesn't know why or what came over him, but in a flash his hand his wrapped around your wrist and bringing it to his crotch, helping you feel how hard he is through his pants. "Shit— baby. See what you do to me?" Where this sudden courage came from, he doesn't know. But you have to know how crazy he is about you. you have to. He needs you to know. You shiver at the feeling of him beneath your hand. You nod at him, barely trusting your own words. You continued to rock into him, clenching your teeth. He reaches down between the two of you, watching his fingers as they snake right were you need him. Even if still covered in the confines of your pants. (Neither of you thought you could ever hate clothes as much as you did in that moment. They weren't doing you any good.) the wonderful feeling of him on your clothed pussy felt like no other. Now that you had a taste of his fingers, just as before with his thigh and just like a second ago with his hard length, you could never go back to something smaller. It just kept getting better and better. Now that you felt his fingers, noting else could compare. The desire for them was about to lead into action. But you couldn't care less. "I-Is this ok?" He asks. And youre taken aback. Him? Asking if you liked it when you couldn't even think straight enough to keep sucking on his neck like before, resorting to pressing a few kisses there in the meantime.

"You're doing great." You say, trying to keep any shakiness out of your voice. You dont want him to know how much of a n effect he has on you. He searches for your clit in a way that only made you want him more. Was he teasing you or was this real? You couldn't take it anymore: you unbutton your jeans and slide them down a bit, taking his hand and shoving it down to feel your wetness. He audibly gulps. Hard. You doesn't think he could ever move from this position: with his hand warm and damp with your arousal. When he doesn't do anything, his hand just idly underneath you, you say, "What? Nervous baby?" You laugh. Almost condescendingly. He gets the point a second later, shaking himself out of his daze. He wonders what this all says about him-- that he can't function the minute his hand is on your pussy. You grind yourself on his hand, his palm brushing against your clit every time your rock yourself on him. The fucking sounds in the air. Minghao doesn't think he'll be able to last very long with the obscene, almost pornographic squelching and panting he hears ringing in his ears. He finally takes his fingers into your ruined underwear, other hand that was feeling up your ass goes to your face, bringing you in for a hard and passionate kiss when he glides them inside of you.

At this point the kiss doesn't surprise you, you've come to have an inkling that he likes them. Or maybe, he just likes having them with you. It was bad, you knew that, but you didn't really care either way. Too lost in how his fingers curled inside of you just right. You were so warm, so wet and tight. He could just imagine what youd feel like on his cock. Meanwhile you? You didn't think you ever felt something so easily good. Just in an instant, he made you feel like he had everything you wanted and then some. Things you couldn't imagine just beyond your reach. You reel your head back and squeeze your eyes shut tight, trying to focus on not cumming so fast. He bucks his hips up onto your wet heat when he saw your face.

How was he making you feel this good? To the point were you were sighing and groaning and looking so fucking good? If his fingers weren't knuckle deep into your pussy, and his other hand wasn't pressed flat on the skin of your back, he'd pinch himself. Was this real? It sure didn't feel like it. Your hand his still on his wrist, holding him just were you need him. Forcing him to stay there. It wasn't like he'd ever want to leave you thought. He can't think of a single better feeling right now than your warm and tight pussy. He doesn't think the feeling could ever leave his mind if he could ever peel himself away from your bed once this is all said and done. But secretly, there's two things he doesn't know if he should admit yet. One: that he wants you to ask him to stay. He knows its only three in the afternoon... or at least it was when he got here.

(Thats another thing, ever since he go there all sense of time seemed to leave his brain. vanish along with his sanity into thin air.) He doesn't want to have to think about "when this is all said and done" and he has to tredge his way next door to his own bed. His own bed where all he'll have are the memories of you writhing and panting for him. Because of him. The ghost of your around his fingers, dripping onto his palm. And number two: is that your iron grip on his wrist did noting but turn him on more for you. Which, Minghao didn't even think was possible until now. But something about you making him stay right there where you needed him, helping him make you feel good... Something about that made his brain cloud and fog up enough to almost slow his pace inside of you. He guessed he just liked it when you took charge of him. Even in small ways like these. "Mmhm," You sound pleased, your hand never leaving his wrist and the other never leaving his bare torso, almost silently asking him to stay down, "Just like that." And at that moment he doesn't think he could ever feel better than how he does with that look on your face. You needed more. It was stupid, really. To just keep taking and taking and taking. But it looked like he was enjoying himself just as much as you were. "Please--" his beg meets your ears as you look down at him. His smooth skin under your hand, his pretty waist and nipples, everything,

"Eyes open..." For a second he seems lost for words, now desperate in his movements against you "I need to see you." Your lids snap open at his request. You couldn't see any reason to deny him. And it wasn't like you didn't want to take a moment to let his body sink into your mind. You run your hands up and down his torso, feeling every inch of him. Minghao shivers at the contact just like you did him but he doesnt make one move to turn away. How was he so god damn sensitive? And just from you feeling him up, too? But you wanted to remember what he felt like. The dip of his hips to his pronounced collarbone. The way his hair fanned over your pillow like a halo. He really was an angel.

But you felt like he was teasing. Giving your just enough to keep you begging for more. You got the feeling he wasn't doing it intentionally though. No... he seemed too nice for that. But no matter if he wanted to or not it was getting frustrating to have him playing with you like this. No outcome to his torturous actions. "Angel..." You call out to the man with the plush kiss blown lips that made you wanna devour them and then kiss away softly the harshness youve ensued on them. He breathes hard at the nickname, wishing to hear it fall from your lips like a prayer anytime youd have him all to yourself. Just. Like. This. He nods, your eyes never leaving his lips as his tongue darts out the wet them. He's been doing that all day. He had to have known what he was doing. He had confessed in one of his pretty written letters that he always brought chapstick with him. You weren't sure if you were glad he forgot it or mad at him because of how much you wanted to cum. "Don't tease." What was opposed to be heard as a light instruction, came out more like begging. But, to be honest. It wasn't like you were doing anything different in your heart. You wanted noting more than to cum around his fingers. So, just as before, the desires of the heart seep though your carefully tapped up cracks.

Minghao slows his movements, no doubt making you even more mad at him. But whats in his mind now could top anything hes done with you. It's been in his mind for a while now. And, in the end, he was never that strong willed when it came to matters of you. He told your just what he was thinking. though, it terms of trying to keep this friendship a strict friendship he was doing a horrible job at it. But, just as previously stated, a thought becomes a desire, and a desire will soon become an action. But now, he remembers something else from that saying: "it will then become sin." But the thought of you on his face, your thighs suffocating him and nose buried deep in your wetness sounds like heaven to him. The exact opposite. He'd been thinking about it for too long, then for a while he'd been desiring your like that, now he was finally asking. It seemed like it took forever to get out of his mouth. Hopefully like the taste of you on his tongue, refreshing when he licks his teeth. "I need you on my face." His words left you dazed. He finally stops his movements, his fingers still deep inside of you. "Angel, what--" "I need you on my nose." He nods his head once, beckoning you higher up on him. You slide a little further up on him, his fingers coming out of you with a sound he doesn’t think he can ever forget. He doesn't know how much more of this he can take. He fucking needs you on his tongue. Lapping up whatever you give him. Its not like you don't want to. No, it's something you've dreamed about for months. But as you start to get in your head about it, your thoughts turning from excited to worry. A comforting hand runs up your back, effectively letting you know he's right there with you. For you. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to. At all," He assures you. You nod, taking a breath. "Of course i fucking want to." You slide up onto his chest a little more. Shit, he can feel you dripping onto his stomach. How the fuck can he not cum right now? How could anyone not cum when you're on them like this? "Please, I just wanna make you feel good." He whispers.

And how could you ever deny him of his request? With his voice horse like he’d been screaming and his eyes pleading. You bring yourself to his face. His arms hand limp by his sides as if he wasn’t playing with your bra strap two seconds ago. “It’s ok.” You reassure him. He nods. His hands going up to grip your hips, slowly lowering you down onto his face. His tongue already hanging out and read for you. Just like his hard dick still in the painfully tight confines of his pants. He’s so fucking warm and wet. You can barely take the sensation. He starts moving the muscle a second later, giving you no time to adjust for damn great it felt to have him on you. You’ve waited too long for this. Having to control yourself around him and his fucking beautiful face. Him and his stupid body that was so nice all you wanted to do was sit atop it and stay there. His hands and voice that always brought you back to your bed at night. Your roommate was almost never home before you so that gave you the perfect opportunity to get yourself to relax. And also at the same time make him feel just how much of a effect he had on you. You always knew he walks had to have been thin— you could practically hear every other thing the man did on the other side. You always thought that had to be a bad thing. Now you see that it could be just as good.

Even better with how beautifully he responded. Giving you a taste of how he’d sound in person. How he’d be. A melody to your ears and quite the sight to see. In fact, that was exactly what you were thinking as you leaned back, his tongue still working wonders on you just by its slow and steady small mow vents. You could tell Minghao was still just testing the waters. And you’d never dreams of rushing him. No matter how much it felt like he was everywhere you didn’t need him. First on your outer pussy lips. You crying out at his tongue slid up and down your pussy-- rubbing just hard enough in a way he learned that made you clench your fists in pleasure. Then he was dipping the muscle in your needy and clenching hole. You didn’t want to admit it but you didn’t think you ever wanted anything more than to take him in at that moment. You let your hands roam freely on his chest behind your back, stretching your muscles as you felt his soft silky skin run along your finger tips. His tongue runs up and down your folds. It was sloppy, and somehow needy like his kisses. But it still felt like heaven.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can't feel his skin under your palms anymore because of how mind clouding the sensation was. Did he know was he was doing to you? His eyes were watching your face intently, searching for signs you liked whatever he was doing. He grips your hips even harder, but you didn't care about finger nail marks or bruises when he brought you even closer to his face. Now flush against him, his nose bumping your clit in a way that made your head reel. He gets to work on making your cum. It seems as if his only goal he's ever had now is to bring your to your high. It's all he can think about. Sure, his bare torso was shivering under the coolness of your ac but now it was hot as fire under your touch. He dips his tongue into your gaping hole again, liking the reaction your give him more than anything.

"Stick your tongue out?” A mix of a question and a demand, he happily obliges. You rock yourself onto him. His mouth, his lips, and his tongue. Trying to bring yourself to orgasm even faster. Your thighs locking around his head and cutting off most of his hearing. But he didn't mind. Now that he got a taste of you, he'd let you do anything to let him get it again. But why was he thinking of if he'd ever get to have his tongue buried inside your perfect pussy again when he was just getting started? hes going so fast wit you. too fast. he wants to take it slow (as if having oral sex the first time youre together for more than thirty minutes in person is slow) He wants to take it down a notch. So it doesn't end so fast. He needs you so, so fucking much. But he'll be damned if he can't take his sweet time with someone like you.

He takes charge again, running his tongue in circles around your clit. You tug in his hair to bring him closer as his warm palms slide up your back, playing with your bra strap. He brakes concentration on making little kitten licks along your clit for a second. So fucking good but torture still. He takes a brake to look into your eyes. Even fore a second. A frustrated grunt from you is what follows. "What're you doing? Keep going." You pant out. He keeps going, but no faster than before. Kitten licks turn into leisurely tasting your arousal in his mouth. Not stopping until every inch of him is coated in your slick. His lips and chin must be wet by now; he can feel your slick dripping down from his chin to his neck. it might've just been from all the teasing, but you were dripping this much for him? All for him. He thought. Running that sentence in his head no short of a hundred times and almost tasting it in his mouth. Because, wow. he was finally finally here. With you in your bed. Making you moan. He was finally the one who drew those sweet noises out of you. In the same place where he hears you almost every night. But this time it was him making you loose control of yourself and penetrating the walls with your noises. He could finally see you… and hear you in person. He was in heaven. Seeing what your face looked like when you pussy was getting played with.

Another one of your pretty moans spurred him on, quickening his pace because he thinks he'll die if he doesn't get to hear more of you right now. His tongue slides up and down your folds before getting to your clit again, making you let out a sigh of relief when the wet muscle mets your there. He can barely breath with his nose and mouth pressed so tightly up against you like this. But the wet and perfectly soft but stiff enough to make you go crazy. His fingers ghost up your legs, almost tickleing them, making your spread them wider for him. Fuck, he thought, a few mintutes in and he has already in love with your pussy. You scent, your taste. Everything. Not too far off from what he felt around you anwways. Noting new on his part. But this-- him brining you heat closer to his face so he can better lick and suck at you, that was new. But the good kind of new. A type of new that he wanted to always remain. Not something to try out once then never use again. The specail type of new that only makes you burn for more. Thats all he wanted with you-- more more more. Whateve more you were willing to give him he'd happily take.

The tip of his tongue dips inside your hole again, gaining the same reaction as last time he did so: you moaning his name out like a prayer. "Mmh," You pant, "right fucking there" Your hand that was preciously travailing down to undo the buckle on his pants stop abruptly, you, unable to move with his nose rubbing at your clit just right. He licks a long stripe up from your dripping hole, gathering all of your arousal he can on his tongue, to your clit. "You taste--" he bucks his hips up into the air when your warm fingers reach his hips, wanting noting more than to keep going. He knows he looks desperate, but in all truth he is. He really is. He just can't help himself. "Fuck, ah! You're perfect, so fucking perfect baby." He takes a break from eating your pussy so beautifully to look up at you. His dark eyes glossy and hooded, something primal and needy behind them just waiting to burst. And on other times, you would've shoved his face right back into you to get back to work. But this time all you seemed to want to do was to take in his handsome face. Just take a breath and marvel at it for a second or two. He licks his lips. His fucking perfect lips that are wet and messy and blown wider and have plumped up from all the kissing. And from how hard he had bee practically making out with your cunt a second ago.

Your juices are running down his chin but neither of you dare wipe it off. A reminder of how much he wants you, and how much you want him. You wonder how he's this worked up already. You hadn't even touched his dick. But god, did it make you feel powerful. You almost break into a laugh as he pants, one of the things, along with his heartbeat, that are in sync with yours. You don't really remember how it happened, but it did. And you for sure ain't complaining about it. You can almost hear his thoughts asking you what you're laughing about in his eyes. Then, before you can even say another word, he realizes. And in a spur of the moment decision, an act of bravery on his part, he takes your hand that was rubbing comforting circles on the back of your neck into his, making you bring your hand sliding down to his crotch up with it for comfort, he doesn't complain. "You really don't know how fucking good you taste?" He sounds surprised. Nearly addicted.

You've tasted yourself before, everyone has, right? It was definitely a distinct, flavor, but not really anything good or bad. It wasn't disgusting, wasn't delicious. You couldn't really fathom anyone loving it until Minghao. You had an inkling he had a bit of a oral fixation, you'll keep that in mind for next time, you thought. You shook your head no, and without another moments of hesitation, almost as if the world would collapse if he waited another second, he crashes his lips into yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth. He made your taste yourself on him. It still wasn't the best flavor, but something about the whole thing made you wanna cum on the spot. His tongue explored your mouth, coating you with your arousal still on his tongue. He needed you to understand how worked up you got him. How much he loved you taste. He needed it. He brakes the kiss with a whine, leaving you to chase his lips.

But still, more than anything you want him on your heated core. You want to cum. You snake your hands down to the waistband of his pants once more. "God, you're so good." He mumbles against you, the vibrations of his words that really, neither of you really knew what they meant, because, words like that could mean a millions things but also none, but damn did they sound fucking beautiful in his mouth. The vibrations that rattled your core felt so good that your had to stop yourself from sinking into him. You lean forward, your hands now planted where they were on his chest.

Your compose your self, finally, spitting into your palm a couple times. And he’s bucking into noting by the time you slide your hands down the front of his pants. He shivers when you touch his dick. He's so fucking sensitive from behind in the tight confines of his pants he thinks he'll blow any second. You start to pump him, though torturously slow. He groans again, and you pull him deeper into your pussy by his hair. Somehow it looking messed up like this makes him look even more attractive. And at the moment, you're more than done with the notion that you can't think of him like this.

"D-don't tease." He stutters out, barely being able to fucus now that you're touching him like this. He presses out another sound that makes your head reel. How, even though being as distracted as he seems, he's still able to keep a steady pace on licking you to your orgasm you don't know. The feeling of the weight of him in your hands is unmatched by any other you've felt before. By now, no more spit is needed, he's leaking out of the tip of this cock so much (the same one that you're rubbing your thumb over) to the point where he's making his own lubricant. His pre cum seeping in between your fingers and running down your hand as you pump him slowly. You could tell form the beginning that he didn't need much to cum, that he was trying not to for a while now. But you couldn't just have this time with him and not doing something of the sort, right? You'd be a fool not to take the chance and run with it. If Minghao were standing his knees would've already given out a log time ago. A muffled, "don't stop." comes in a plea from his mouth underneath you. "Wouldn't dream of it, angel." You assure him as you pump him faster. He gives a wet kiss to your clit, making your cunt even wetter and messier than before. He rubs his tongue all over your wanting slit.

You grind into his face again, chasing your orgasm. And he whimpers. A sound so delicate you wish you could bottle it up for youserlf and keep it forever. He's leaking like crazy in between your fingers, and groaning into you. His heart is racing like he'd just run for an hour. The sounds that are coming from him tonguing you are driving both of you mad. It's all just so wet and messy. But neither of you would change that for the world, liking it that way. He doesn't care that his pants are sticky and messy and that if he'd pull them back up all he'd be met with is a sopping wet patch on his on the front side of them And you don't care that your sheets are probably going to be ruined after you're done with him. At this moment in time all you two want to focus on is getting the other off. That's it. Plain and simple. His cock twitches in his pants with the next sound of ecstasy you make for him.

And he can't hold it in anymore. He squirms in your grasp, trying to keep himself focused. Senescing he was on the brink of cumming, you pump your palm around him faster, wishing your other hand could help you touch what you could not reach. You're fast and calculated, running your fingers along the length of him just right. The feeling of your hand, smooth as silk on him, is all too much to bare anymore. He shakes and quivers under your touch as he spilled into your hand. Gripping your waist so hard it feels like fire. He's sorry, he really is. Bu the needs something to hold onto while you're making him feel like it was dead and now being brought back to life. He groans into your cunt, never stopping his licking, trying to taste as much of your as he can as he cums. His voice, although muffled, lets out an unmistakable keen. He tries to still himself but the sensation is too much. You squeeze the base of his cock to ease him though his high. And his hands slide up and down your thighs. If he could he'd hold your arm in perfect place where it was. But when you kept it there anyways he felt like he wanted to give you the world. "G-god, thank you baby You're so good." His head can't stop spinning inside him as he spills his seed into your palm. "I-I" He can't speak. It's warm, and messy, and so fucking wet and it's all over your hand and fingers and you're still fucking him with your hand, not bothered by the thick liquid on you. Somehow that only turns him on even more. The wet squelching sounds picked up right back after they started, this time not from him and his desperate tongue.

"Fuck" He pants, his mouth still agape when you roll on him. Much to his dismay. If it were up to him he’d have your perched like royalty on his face for as long as he could. Your pussy blocking off his air supply as before and your thighs locked so fucking right around his head he can’t hear. Just. As. Before. And just as before he’d like to cum along with you in your bed again and again. Your soft sheets already feeling like heavenly clouds to him under his bare back. He's been dreaming of this, writhing in his sleep and waking up annoyed at himself, and at the situation of you not being there when he opens his eyes. He's been dreaming about you touching his cock again and again. Ever since you started letting him hear you at night by yourself, in your bed, fingers doing what you had secretly wanted him to do all this time.

He'd been imagining your moans-- the ones that he'd hear spill from your lips like fine honeyed tea, that he was the one causing you to sound like that and imagining himself just like how he was with you here: you on his face and his sensitive throbbing cock in your palm. He'd imagined himself making you cum and you squeezing the fucking life out of him in return. Making you cum... making your express beautiful sounds because of him and making you feel good. That was another thing on his mind lately. He stopped trying to make it go away, too. Opting to excuse himself from whatever he was doing and running for the nearest bathroom before anyone could see the tent in his pants. Sometimes forgetting to lock the bathroom stall in his rush to relive the tightness in his pants. It's all he can think about. Ever. Your cum on his tongue. What face you'd make. He already heard the sounds. And oh, did he want to hear more of them. The mere thought of it filled him with a sense of renewed vigor.

He spits on your clit, making the whole thing ever slipperier. Allowing him to glide his tongue up and down you even easier. Coaxing another moan out of you. You want to cum right then and there. He's giving you all you need. Everything you ever needed. The extra pressure on you that he's applying makes you wonder if one of those letters you couldnt send got to him about what you liked. he truth was, that, somehow got throughout the haze of pre orgasm bliss you were giving him, each pump of your hand making him more and more hopeful of the pending high that was to come. And sorted through what made you make the most noise. He wants you to feel good. If he just felt that good from just your hand then whatever he's doing must not be enough. He wonders if he's being selfish for a moment, but then you throw head back as your grind into his face, barely any noise of pleasure coming out because of how good it was all feeling. How good he was for you. And he knew he was on the right track.

"Please, I need it." He groans. Sounding more like a beg than he wanted to. "You feel so god." You wonder how he can reduce you to a whisper just from his tongue alone. One things for sure, you didn't wanna stop. "I-" Your shaky voice surprises even you,, "Right there, minghao!" You grip his hair a little tighter. HE can tell that you're close. Though you sounded even better in person when you were about to cum. This time on the flat of his tongue. "Go ahead," You hear from him, "Please baby. Cum on my tongue." Your high comes when your gazes meet-- fiery and sharp with pierced lust, but also wanting and soft enough to look at and just melt. Melt away everything. Strip away anything that was hindering you from feeling this way on him. Because of him. You moan and groan on top of him, not knowing where to look as his tongue works on you still through your orgasm. Never once stopping, wanting noting more than to collect your arousal on his waiting tongue. The pleasure he's still making your feel-- even as the final shock weaves of you still runs through you. Feeling like you body was being pushed and pulled from him and his torturous tongue moving against you. Because of him and what he's done for you.

He finally stops when you literally have no more to give him. But you still feel so fucking wet, dripping, even. Granted, some of the slick was Minghaos saliva coating your folds. But, for once you're spent. Not able to even hold yourself up. You'd talked a big game before this. Before he sunk the first kiss into your neck and ran his tongue up your pussy. You hadn't known how needy you could be until you saw his torso naked and felt the weight of him in your hand. you certainly hadn't expected for him to take so much out of you. But it was a good kind of tired. Not the kind where you wish fore more to be done but you can't give any (though, in all honesty, you wouldn't mind feeling him on you like this a second time.) Not the type of tired where your muscles ached and you felt like collapsing. But all you wanted to do was to fold into him. You felt tired, but no short of satisfied. When it was just you at night. Just you and your fingers and him on the other side of the wall. You could go on for awhile. Wanting, needing him to hear you. You never wanted to stop until you feel asleep. But with him under you like this... you couldn't quite explain it, but you were satisfied with staying close to him for a moment. And you did-- giving you two a minute to recuperate. Somehow it didn't feel forced. Sure, you were at the edge of your seat to continue with him, but you felt nice. Just taking a minute with him.

He guides you down onto his chest, his hand on your back. Warmth fills you like never before. Starting at the middle of your spine where his palm rested like an anchor, and springing forth to your neck and down you legs. Your hand drags itself away from his stomach and glides up his neck to his handsome face. Your head seems to fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. His mind starts to reel with all the possibilities of what could happen next. Who could say something next. What would you say, if anything? Or would you just lead him out your door? What would he say? But most of all, he thought of how it would be if you'd ever do this again. Maybe going further the next time. He'd die a happy man tasting you, but he still yearns to feel you. How he longs to be inside you.

But, for now. He was perfectly happy with just staying like how you two were-- his arms encircling your back and yours flat on his chest. He wants to stay like this. Not just until the both of you have recovered from your orgasms, but he wants to have you like this again and again and make you let out those beautiful noises until your throat is dry and your fingers are sore from gripping onto the sheets and his hair. He sighs contently. "Don't get too sleepy. We're not done yet."

His thoughts of fucking you again had to fall away, along with the taste of you fresh on his tongue. Something he wanted more and more every day, but something he was son beginning to realize he wasn't going to get, having to settle for the memory of it instead, fisting his cock to it-- and the sounds of your fucking moans. Unlike before though, it wasn't just a far away dream that floated to him whenever he heard you on the other side of his wall. IT was something that was a reality for him. Maybe just for a moment. But it was real and it happened. And now that his desire became a reality... all he could think about was how he wanted to feel you on him once more. Now that he got a taste he doesn't know how he survived without you for so long. God, he was so stupid not to have been having you in bed sooner. It was his new favorite thing. never leaving his mind like a good song he'd never get tired of. Now that it was real inside his mind, something that actually happened instead of a hazy image in his mind for him to dream about, he spun constantly with the thought of you. Over and over, never stopping as a thread in his stream of consciousness,. When he goes next door to his apartment later that day, all giddy and closing the door behind him and sliding against it like a person in a romance movie, he thought he'd never experience a better feeling. That was until, even though, just like the sounds you made for each other remained in the others apartment and never talked about, never mentioned until behind separate closed doors, you'd hadnt ended up on top of him or him in your bed like before... that was until you had come over after one of his letters had said something about him going on a date.

He didn't want to, really. But it had been nearly a month and, to his surprise one of his co workers had asked him out and well-- the truth was he did want to turn them down. HE really did. But they were always to nice to him. And besides, you had talked about setting him up with one of your friends. And as both options felt horrible to him, he'd rather not break the news to your own personal friend that he was never going to lust, and find attractive, and want to go out with anyone but you. He'd rather your friend not have to tell you that. He wanted you to be happy with your decision to set him up, and that if you did he wanted it to work out well. And that was why it couldn’t work: even while thinking of being set up with another person he couldn’t dare think of what that person might like about him, hoping they wouldn't be disappointed by him. But he could only think of how you'd feel if something you'd been working hard to set you failed.

This one, (and very much casual sounding by the look of it) date with his co worker didn't have to mean much right? No strings attached, no commitments. He liked the coffee shop they had suggested, and half prince anything sounded good to him. But here you were, in his bedroom. The same place where he had made that dreaded wifi name. The same name that he had tried to change when he go home from your place a couple days ago, and had been trying since. But whatever he did was to to avail. He was glad beyond compare that you hadn't asked for his wifi passcode. At this point he wouldn't even know what to say to cover it up. And it wasn't like this was something containable, either. He'd heard other tenants laugh about the name, agreeing if they were on the same floor or directly bellow you. What he spread about you? He felt like it was wrong more than anything else now. No longer filled with that sense of "what the fuck am i gonna do if they find out?" But now, his worries become background noise as you stand with your back turned to him, rifling through his closet on a mission to find him some "more self respecting clothes than what You described." Or, at least thats, what you told him in the last letter you taped to his door this morning.

He can barely focus when your gorgeous back, the same one he ran his fingers up and down not many nights ago, is turned to him? And how could he focus with well, all of you standing right before him? Trying to help him. Being so lovely and wonderful. True, just like you have always been with him. At least in his eyes. And all for no good reason anyways, because in all honestly he doesn't even like the person much at all. But, given how much time as passed before youve even brough the time you've spent together up. And how the wall is still separating you, maybe this'll help him to stop hanging onto to you. Even if it doesn't go anywhere, because, he's kind of hoping it doesn.t But still, maybe getting a so called taste of someone else to will bring down his want for you. You noticed something is up with your friend when he hasn't responded for a good couple minutes. You wave your hand in front of his face to get his attention. "Hello! Welcome back to the land of the living." You elongate the ends of your first at last words, hoping to make him smile.

For you? Always. Anytime

He rubs a hand over his face then through his hair, messing it up in the process. Did he really not know how much of an effect he was having-- pulling all this shit on you? "I sure don't feel it." He groans. God, it sends a shiver up your back. 95% Percent of it because your friend is sad, the other five percent he well, you hadn't heard his groans in nearly a month and fuck, you wanted to hear them like that again. You shake the memories from you mind as you place another shirt on his dresser into the "yes" pile, coming over to him. He's splayed out on the bed. A sight to see, really. Using his arm as a pillow and a blanket thrown over half of him, at this point mostly just bunching it up and laying on it. "Whats wrong?" you say in a sign songy voice, trying to make light of the situation. He chuckles, thinking you sound way too much like a mother with your eyebrow raised for your own good right now. "Jus' thinking about about why we've already spent thirty minutes on this. I leave in an hour and a half." Because i need more time with you before you go. "NO, really, what's going on in that pretty little head?"

He shrugs, trying to stay nonchalant. It didn't work on you though. He huffs like a child, rolling his eyes like a brat, flopping into his bed. "Just scared about the date." He says, keeping it simple. And yes, he wasn't lying at all. But he definitely wasn't stressed for the reasons he wanted you to think he was. You scoot a little closer to him. God, any closer and you'd practically be sitting on his lap. No, no. He seriously needed to stop before his thoughts became out of hand. Though, he wondered if it was too late for that. He wanted you to think he was beyond excited for the date-- that, other than his outfit he'd been thinking of it for days and couldn't wait. Now, he was thinking of taking the long way and claiming that he fell asleep or forgot his phone or something. But as stressed out as he was about this, he couldn't be an ass about it. So, he was going to try and make it on time. He didn't want to make his co worker think he didn't care about them. Cause he certainly did... like youd care for a cup of coffee so as to not spill it. But you? He cared for you like his own body. Unfortunately, you didn't fall for his see though crystal lies. "Well, yeah, I knew you were scared. But are you sure you should be?" He looked at you in question, fearing he might've just blown his cover, "Shouldn't you be nervous? Maybe even stressed out. Hell I know I would be, you've shown me their picture." You chuckle, he smiles. His eyes shine with glee like they always do when he smiles. Just like his eyes shone as you lay in bed together in peace. His chin on your head made you never want to leave his arms. You playfully nudge him. "As cute as they are..." You dip your head around to meet his gaze. You're leaning down and around and its an awkward looking position but you don't care.

"Really, Minghao, what's the matter?" "I wanna go on this date; I promise--" "Nobody said anything about you not wanting to go?" You say, your eyebrows raised in expectantly as if to tell him, you're not getting away from this question this easily. The truth was, you didn't really want him to go. You'd much rather have the rest of him in bed with you. But up until now you were going to suck it up because it seemed like he was happy about it. Now it seemed he didn't want to go either. "I'm just--" He sighs, running a hand through his hair just for it to go straight back into place, "What if I'm not into them?" He thinks it best to just tell you. I mean, what's the harm? A lot of people aren't into other people. Maybe now, as much as he didn't want you to have to, maybe you could help him come up with an excuse. Maybe you'd just have to give him one. "Sorry, I can't come because my next door neighbor said they're gonna fuck me lmao catch ya later ttyl" You know, better than that. Thats what he wants. Fuck more than anything. Thats why he'd doing this--- not only because youre his friend and he needs someone to unload that heavy feeling he's got onto someone, but also to give you an opening to hand him an excuse to stay. "What if?" You repeat. In a tone that said: tsk, either you do or you don't. "You're right" He sits up as if this just hit him. "I'm not into them. Like, at all." "Isn't that how it's supposed to work when you first start to 'get to know somebody'?" You ask, head tilted like a puppy. He thinks its the cutest thigh he's ever seen. "Yeah, yeah. You go out with them because you like how they've talked to you, three times and the very vague vibe and because they're cute, then you start to be 'into them', into them." He says. "Hao," He perks up at the name, "Looks like you're not too shocked by what I said. You already knew this, or?" You let your sentence trail off for him to answer. Damn you and you being close enough with him to pick up what he was feeling. It was really barely turning out to be in his favor.

"Maybe i wanna do something different with my time." He says, voice low and sultry, looking no where but your soft lips that seemed to be begging and calling for him, inviting him in with ease. "Yeah?" You ask, your voice for once not taunting but rather as soft and whispering--- only for the two of you to hear, no wall in between, "And what might that be?" He answers you with a kiss-- soft as his lips, it is. Sucking on you bottom lips so gently you can't help but moan into his mouth. His teeth grazing it so lightly it almost feels like tickling. Soothing and calming as you press yourself closer to him, hand reaching over to rest on his hip bone. spreading warmth and rubbing where you had previously squeezed nearly a month before. The two piles are messy and unruly on his desk and you had planned on picking them up by now but right now you couldn't care less. Noting else on you mind besides his lips and how needy you felt because of them. Because of him. You pull away, just for a second, to look at him. He's beautiful. Handsome beyond belief, really.

And it doesn’t take but a minute to get him hard against you, tent in his pants pressed on you just as before. Without a second thought you push him further into the bed and he pulls his shirt over his head. You scan his body. And your core throbs with need when you see him. His mouth hangs agape as you rub his skin as sensitive nipples. He bucks up into you in search of some sort of friction. It probably wasn’t the best idea to be doing this. He has a date, for fucks sake. And here he was getting his neck kissed by you. But right now, you didn’t really want to think about that. More concerned with getting his lips on yours again. He whines as he tilts his head into the pillows, giving you more access to his neck. “God, you’re like a dog in heat.” You whisper against his skin. He chuckles and runs his hands down, down, and down until finally stopping at our ass. Resting his hands there. You start kissing down his soft body. He’s so lost in the feeling of you that he doesn’t think to control the endless stream of consciousness running out his brain like water out a open tap. “I’m sorry. I’m so so so sorry” he whisperers, words barely heard over pants and little groans he can’t help but let out. He wants you to know how good you make him feel. Couldn’t be anyone else.

“whatre you sorry for, pretty boy?”

You raise your head a little to meet his eyes, belt discarded on the floor along with this pants. He doesn’t look like he wants for answer. And you know, as hard as he is, he isn’t that close. You stop all movements of kisses and hickys on his thighs that nearly shake with want for you to go where he needs you. He tugs you up closer to his face but your shirt, the same shirt that a second later he’s pushing up so he can kiss you tummy and waistline. And as good as his lips on your hipbones feel, you can tell there’s something wrong. You move his hand away from your shirt pushed up to your bra. He looks up at you. This time with more that just lust in his eyes. And that worries you. He seems scared, begging. Not for you to touch him, though. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling—“ you cut him off. “No, but I think you’re feeling some type of way and you’re not telling me.” You start to worry that he’s having second thought about this. I mean, he was supposed be getting ready for someone else. He turns his head away. “It doesn’t really matter.” He says. You scoff. “You’re a bad liar. Now tell me.” You speak softly, thinking it may be something you did. After a second, he realizes that he needs to speak what’s on his mind. It wasn’t going to do either of you any good if he just stayed quiet about it. “Please don’t be mad…” he says quickly. You raise an eyebrow at him-- quite the funny sight if he wasn't a little scared.

you move a little bit off of him, still staying close to give him room to breath, straightening out your shirt. “But it was me.” You looked confused. God why did you have to look to cute when you’re confused. It was really messing his apology speech up. “I’m sorry but it was be who made that Wi-Fi you’re always talking about. It tried— you won’t believe how much I tired to get it off but it won’t let me.” His constant rambling turns into background noise for you. He was the one who did that? All this time he was the one who made you worried that you might get evicted because of noise complaints? “Now, I didn’t completely mean it in a bad way! It’s just, well, i-I hear you?” Why was that a question? Either he did hear you and he liked it like how you wanted, or all this time he’d been putting on headphones and canceling your noise for him out. Shit. Did this have anything to do with our nice he was to you? You felt like you were dreaming. Was the serious? He couldn't have, right? I mean, it wasn't like you were particularly hurt, contrary to popular belief because the guy was still rambling on in front of you. You had to grasp his arm tightly to get him to stop. "huh?" He wonders aloud. "Listen, I have no fucking idea why you'd do that, but I don't hate you for it." You start to laugh,

"In fact, it's even kinda funny." His eyes are questioning, inquisitive, wondering if you really mean what you say. "I was pretty drunk... Not like thats an excuse." He said, still sensing how you must've still felt a little miffed. "I think its my time to ask you whats the matter." He puts a hand on your thigh, trying and succeeding in being comforting to you, when a not so comforting silence falls over the two of you. "...None of this was for some sort of compensation, right?" You ask, feeling your stomach sink, not with the anticipation of what would come after his feverish kisses to your hot skin, but now because... what if he couldn't answer that? What if it took him a minute? That was how you'd know this whole thing wasn't a rooze-- a plan to make you think that it wasn't him. In your heart you knew he wouldn't. As little as youve known him and as much as he was a drama queen, Minghao couldn't do something like that. Not to you, not to anybody.

Y/N!" He genuinely sounded hurt by the even mere suggestion. Then, realizing that, well, he didn't have the right words at the time and that, even if he did words alone might not do much. He gets up with a rush. "Wait, here." He nearly runs out the door, almost forgetting his shirt. "Hao--" You chuckle. Why does he seem so excited ? You wonder. But, just like with everything, he was a wonder. He peeks his head back into the room, reaching for his clothes with a shy smile up at you. His whole face seems to brighten. The last thing you hear is the faint clicking of his belt as he hurries out the bedroom door. He rushes back in the same way he came. But now holding a letter. "I wanted to give you this earlier. But this seems like a better time than anything." He explained, "with the date and everything... I just figured it would look stupid." You open the letter and start to read, it looked half finished. But the paragraph inside tells you all you need to know. In synopsis: he views as someone very special in his life. He cherishes you to the ends of the earth. And with what he's written down, it only solidifies how he'd never do anything to hurt you. Your head starts to turn up before you're even done reading. "Listen I was never that concerned--" "Just like old times--" you both say at the same time. "Sorry, I've been thinking about saying that since I started writing it." He mentions. "I thought so." You said. God, how do I know you so well. He knows he's written something else, but he also know sees you haven't read it yet. He doesn;t say anything, though, preferring to leave you to find it on your own when you're ready. He gestures to you like; and you were saying? "Hao," A feel good shiver runs up his spine at the nickname, "I never was that concerned with it. Sure, it stung a little to know that someone complaining about my apartment." He starts to say something, but you cut him off.

"And I know you're sorry. And I've heard horror stories about your wifi provider before." He smiles at you, beath calming down, not sounding like he's run a race as a second ago. He looks unreal. Other worldly, even. So fucking beautiful. You can't think of another word to describe him. Every single one you've tried seems to be a little off. You werent expecting such an actual explanation. And he didnt just leave it at: "Well, I was drunk so you can't blame me." His actually made sense, too. And, from his track record, and even from today. You could tell he was telling you the truth. One look into those deep brown eyes and you knew that if he had the power to he wouldve long changed it. And if he wasn't drunk he wouldn't have made it. "But there's one thing I don't know... I knew you were drunk, but, anything you'd like to tell me that spurred this on?" You sit there, pulling his body towards yours, starting to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. It was on backwards. He shivers as your fingers graze his heaving stomach. "Yeah." HE says simply, "But not how you think!" You chuckle. "What?" You question, "You don't mind the loud music? So... is there, anything else?" You say it like there could be anything in the world that caused him to make a jab at how "loud your apartment is." "Your noise." HE looks into your eyes, referencing how you'd make yourself cum every night. So close but way to far away from him. He wanted to start rambling about how he doesn't mean tot hear it... but, it looked like, but your smirk you wanted him to. You wanted him to get riled up and desperate for hearing you in person. And thats just what he was. "I'm glad you've finally said something about that. Looks like I've accomplished what I wanted for the year." You breath out a laugh.

So he has unsent letters just like you? You think back to your drawer of your nightstand or the shoebox by your desk. There lay, dormant and gathering dust, all unsent letters. Letter deemed a little too early in the friendship to send, letters describing dreams or thoughts youve had of him where he's been gripping your hips as you rock on hid dick, him begging you for release as you chase your own orgasm, even one letter asking him a stupid question about some show you bother watched, you remembered the answer soon after and diced to start a new one on a fresh sheet on paper. But you still kept it and held onto it like it was a precious gem. Your fingers stop their teasing movements the waistline of his pants and tell him to wait there, same thing he told you. You come back with letters, you more than him. His eyes tell you he's interested. But also: "hold on, you too?" He reads them and smile each time he turns to another. Making little remarks and comments here and there. "You know, there's something else in mine as well." He says, flipping to one of the last ones-- the ones with detail after detail of your conscious when it came to him. About how you wanted to have him and what you wanted him to do to you in your bed. Or his, it didn't really matter as long as it was with you. "Fine. Read the rest of mine though." You say, wanting, no, needing him to know what you thought of him when he wasn't beside you. You eyes flicker down to the arrow to the font of the letter in your lap. You flip it around to see his number, clear as day, staring at you in your face. (With a little note that says: how come we never did this before?) and a little, delicate sketch of the first flower pressing he'd ever given to you whine you mentioned something about them neither of you can really remember. You pressed the note onto your thighs, smoothing it down.

"You know i never minded when you sent me pressings, right?" There was noting to make you think he was about to ask, but something told you it was in the back of his mind. He nods, barely listening as he read the letter about the dream you had about fucking him like both of your lives depend on it.

And with the growing need on your pants it sure felt like it did.-- You call his name a couple times but to no avail. “come back down to earth, angel. I’m not done with you yet” you climb back onto his lap

A second later his lips are on yours. "Fuck," He whines, "You really wanna do all that to me?" He doesn’t sound repulsed at all, he now craves the thought, desire pools in his stomach for him to feel you. All of you. Wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock like how you described. He leans on top of you, making you push down into his plush bed, his mouth more eager than the first two times. You didn't; think that was even possible. You pull away, him left chasing the feeling of your lips on his. It felt so god he'd be happy if he died there. "Call them to cancel?" You beam. A moment after he sends them a quick apologetic text, here he is, grinding into your thighs, trying to fuck himself on the pillowy flesh you so lovingly provide for him. “what is it angel? You wanna be inside me?” You ask him, smiling to yourself as he nods, gulping. Your lips are ghosting over his as you slide down on him. His fingers are inside of you and making you cum in an instant when you drop your pants. Curling and pumping just how you said he did so in your dream. And the instant his cock has sprung out of his pants, ready and waiting for you, you're starting to move in a way that makes you feel like heaven is in your grasp as he swallows your moans with a kiss.

“G-god I—“ his words are cut short as he bucks his hips up into you. The stretch you feel inside your cunt feels fucking amazing. Noting like ever before. lips hovering against his once more as you start slow movements on him, the force of them still making you move from his mouth to his eyes. Slower, now but deep as ever. HE runs his hand up your back, his brain too foggy to think to take off your shirt fully like his-- to match him, fully naked in his bed. It's something he's been dreaming about ever since he first heard you moaning from the wall behind him. even though the condom he can feel every inch of you. You’re so warm and wet and so fucking tight and slippery-- the way he glides in and out of you, always drawing pleasured sounds from the both of you drives him so crazy he can barely take his eyes off of his cock disappearing into your pretty pussy over and over again. fascinated by how a ring of your slick starts to form around his cock, sticky and thick. He wants noting more than to see you lick it off of him. Or for him to get a taste. You fuck yourself on him, not like he wants anything else. He rubs circles on your back, your thighs bare as he grips onto them to ground himself. Your hands fault against his chest for leverage, you seem to never tire of the delicious feeling of him. "What're you sorry for?" You ask him, leaning down to his earlobe and nibbling it. Almost as a reminder of how stupid it all is, you chuckle at his inability to speak when you squeeze his cock particularly tight.

The thought had long done turned into a desire, and you couldn’t have imagined a better action for you two to take.

End~

~before you interact, as with all my other smut posts, please put an age indicator in your bio saying you’re not a minor so I don’t have to block you!~

2023copywrightofshutupheathersorryheather©️ do Not repost my work anywhere, translate it, or anything like that even if you give me credit, no one is anyone allowed to do what is stated above

thank you all so much for readin!! Please leave some love like comments and or reblogs if you liked this! Also I will be coming in to edit this a little very soon so I’m sorry if it’s not good at the moment @jasminexox5 @impuritywritings @jjjzzz @zozjella @mimisxs @itz-yerin @toorauz @daechwitabaddie

(if youre username isnt underlined im sorry that i couldn't tag you! im not sure why but sometimes with tagging it doesn't show up) If you'd like to be a part of my permanent smut and or fluff taglist please comment on this post! if youd like to be a part of my smut taglist please have something in your blog bio telling me youre not a minor thank you! the previous action is not necessary if you want to only be a part of my fluff masterlist. So please specify which one

#minghao smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #minghao fluff #minghao #seventeen #svt #ghosts writing #the8 #minghao x y/n #Seventeen x poc reader #minghao x poc reader

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rose-smoke · 8 months

Text

I'm on the internet, posin' as a little girl

I'm tryin' to lure evil into my world

I tell them that I'm curious, and I'm only 12

Mom and dad are gone for the day, and I'm by myself

Buckets of throw up, are next to my computer

Hopin' they'll show up, 'cause what I'm about to do to 'em

It would make the devil sick, I sharpen my blade

I'm frontin' to this perv like I'm only in the 7th grade

The doorbell rings I gotta get 'em inside

In my best little girl voice I'm like,

"Hi, come on in! I'm putting on my bikini!"

And when the door shuts, that's when I let them see me

"Hi there"

I stab them in the neck first, 'cause it hurts

Hit 'em where the blood squirts

Carve his whole face off, and make him eat it

Chain him up by his foot in the basement bleeding

I'm probably gonna to burn for this

Ain't no lesson to learn from this

There's nothing I'ma earn for this

But it sure is fun! I said it sure is fun!

I'm probably gonna to burn for this

Ain't no lesson to learn from this

There's nothing I'ma earn

But it sure is fun! I said its sure is fun!

'Cause people out there, don't think they deserve this

Until its your kid some old man is finger fuckin',

titty suckin', then you'll want the knife stuck in

I don't blame ya, that's why I catch them in advance

While his dick is still in his pants, they never get a chance

I tell them I'm alone and I'm only 13

Lookin' for a good time, ya know what I mean?

Bring me some Funions and a slurpy

Promise not to hurt me, or give me herpes

And within 20 minutes here comes a doctor

Knockin on my door, pedophile butt-knocker

"Come in have a seat!", And then I stroll in

With the all purpose hunting blade straight up his throat chin

I cut his hands off, he ain't touchin' nobody

Chain him up by the foot in the basement, bloody

"Please mister clown sir you don't have to do. ."

"Zip it"

"Please. please I got money"

"Shut it fucker!"

"Please! we can work this out"

"Silence I said"

Stick him next to this other fool, both left for dead

Every time I walk by 'em, I punch 'em in the head

Cut they fucking dicks off and stick them in each others mouths

Now what ya'll talkin' about?

I'm probably gonna to burn for this

Ain't no lesson to learn from this

There's nothing I'ma earn

But it sure is fun! I said its sure is fun!

I'm probably gonna to burn for this

Ain't no lesson to learn from this

There's nothing I'ma earn

But it sure is fun! I said its sure is fun!

The house is getting funky bodies in the basement, stinkin'

What the fuck am I thinkin'?

I put my face-paint on and go down stairs

And beat they ass some times, 'cause it ease my mind

Some of them are dead, and some of are still livin'

But I'm going to hurt them every chance that I'm given

I hit them with the nail gun or the stun gun

They cant run so they mad fun

I was sawin' the head off when I heard the doorbell

I'm not expectin' any predators, but oh well

I took my spot, "Come in, I'll be right there"

But I left a head sittin' on a living room chair

He seen it, ran, I had to give chase

We cut across the lawn with my knife cuttin' for his face

I threw it and stuck him in the back of the neck

Still in my drawers, I dragged him home a bloody wreck

"Ah help, some body any body!"

zip it

"Ah! please!"

Shut it the fuck up

"Ah!"

People are lookin! Silence!

A bus full of high-school kids watched it happen

And he kept screamin' like a pansy despite my slappin'

Plus the neighbors seen it, so did the mail-man

But they all never said anything 'bout it again

I'm probably gonna burn for this

Ain't no lesson to learn from this

There's nothing I'ma earn

But it sure is fun! I said its sure is fun!

I'm probably gonna to burn for this

Ain't no lesson to learn from this

There's nothing I'ma earn

But it sure is fun! I said its sure is fun!

#icp #whoop whoop #lmao #to catch a predator

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communicationthroughlyrics · 8 months

Text

I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 7

You’re a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.

A/N: We're just working away here, folks. I appreciate everyones feedback and support so far. Thank ya'll for your patience, as you can probably tell that I am a slow burn writer.

2.6K Word Count

Ch. 7: Fall Down Before Me, I Want You on Your Knees

The next few days were filled with you just trying to occupy your mind, and keep the nagging memories of your time in the military at bay. While the Army had given you the supreme drive and aggressive, Type-A mentality that got you where you were to today, it wasn’t without cost. Your PTSD is currently at an all time high, and your coping skills have always been sub par. You learned the unfortunate method of pushing all your feelings and unwanted memories deep down within, and when one bubbled up, it was like an eruption. More and more followed suit.

It was now Saturday, and you had obsessively cleaned, finished the mechanical tasks for your car, and worked out to the brink of near exhaustion. You were now sitting on the sofa, slouched so far down that your ass was barely even on the sofa cushion, and you were just playing with your fingers, staring into space. The thought had crossed your mind that you should maybe drive into town a day early, so your could relax at the apartment for a day before work, but you just couldn’t pull yourself to get up and drive for 14 hours. Your cell phone ringing is what brought you out of your stupor, as you stared over at it like it could comprehend your unease at it snapping you out of your fog.

Groaning as you rose off the sofa, you got up and grabbed the phone, tapping the answer button and raising it to your ear.

“Hello?” You questioned the person on the other line. You were fully anticipating no one contacting you before your expected return to work, since it had already been a few days since you last talked to someone. You hadn’t even used your voice for the last few days, so the rasp and crackle in your voice surprised you. You’re still somewhat dazed and in your own mind to realize you picked up a restricted phone call.

“Y/L/N.” An eerily familiar voice boomed through the receiver. “I know you know about me by now.” This statement sent your mind spiraling, you knew it was a matter of time before he contacted you. Especially if he already knew where your apartment was, and that you had a home somewhere in McCall. The fact that he had already crossed your path twice showed just how efficient he had been at tracking you when given the task.

“Yeah, I’ve know for a while.” You played it off cooly, trying to make it seem like you’ve known about him just as long as he has known about you. “Didn’t get enough the first time or what?” His dark laugh sent a shiver down your spine. The power that this man held over you was unreal. He wasn’t even in the military anymore. But it was almost like that made him more dangerous than before. Now, he really doesn’t have much to loose. He had spiraled off the deep end- multiple trips to jail, daddy presumably buying his way out, just for him to rinse and repeat, Who knows all that this man had really done.

“Good. I always knew you were smart. I hope you’re ready, my client is willing to spare no expense to ensure vermin are exterminated. I hope you and your little toy are prepared.” He made sure to emphasize the tail end of his statement, before hanging up the phone. He kept it brief, knowing that you could trace his calls. You weren’t sure if he was talking about you, or Scarlett, or both, but his statement had you reeling. But this was not going to be fun, or easy for anyone involved. You slammed your phone down on the counter, running up the stairs to grab a bag for clothes. You threw a few outfits into the bag, and settled on a grey v-neck shirt, a black members only coat and black jeans with your black dress sneakers. You rushed through your belongings, grabbing what you felt you needed for the week, and threw the green duffle over your shoulder, glancing down at your watch. 10:39PM. “Shit, Kris will kill me if I call her this late.” You think to yourself. You shrug it off, running over the skyway to your garage, going straight to the lockbox that held all the keys for the cars. Grabbing the familiar black ‘TRX’ key fob, you remote started the matte green pickup, jogging down the stairs and towards the roaring truck.

“Hey, Siri?” You called out as you got into the truck, it had already connected to your phone.

“Hmm?” The familiar AI voice rang over the speakers.

“Call Kris Smith, please.”

“Calling Kris Smith.” The voice called out, as the dial tone began to ring. You romped the truck forward, pressing the button to close the garage door behind you, and speeding down your driveway. The dial tone kept ringing, and ringing. “C’mon, Kris. Answer!” You yell at the trucks radio screen, before the other line finally picks up.

“Y/N, there better be a good reason for calling this late, you know I get up early…” Kris had clearly been in a deep sleep, her voice a few octaves lower than normal, with a rasp that rivaled Miley Cyrus. “What the hell are you calling me for?”

“Kris, we have a problem. I’m not going to talk about it on the phone, but I’m driving now. I just left McCall, I will be in LA tomorrow around lunch time. Can you meet me?” Your frustration and mild anxiety clearly coming through the line.

“What…what the hell is going on?” She asked, slightly more awake now that she had picked up on your panic.

“I can’t explain it all over the phone. We will need to discuss in person. Just meet me at the office tomorrow afternoon. Please.” You state, hanging up before giving her a chance to rebut. You don’t know why, but you had a feeling that your apartment wasn’t the safest place to be right now, so the office was going to become your temporary home. You were flying down the familiar road that lead you in and out of your home, but in your haste, failed to notice the all black sedan that was sitting at the fork in the road where your driveway met with your closest neighbors.

You had driven just less than a third of the way to LA, having to stop to fill up your gas tank, as well as your own. You popped into a 24/7 convenience store, grabbing some light snacks like jerky and chips, some mini donuts as well as water and a coffee. Making your way back to the truck, you glanced around, not noticing anything out of the ordinary., before climbing into the lifted cab of the vehicle. You had already finished filling up the gas tank, as well as a few gas cans as well. You knew you were about to hit a stretch of the trip where gas stations weren’t going to be available at this time of night, and the last thing you would need is to run out in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in between Idaho and California. As you opened the coffee, and opened the package of donuts, you noticed a very dark looking vehicle pull into the pump station, a few pumps away, You pay it no mind at first, but when no one got out of it for a period of time while you ate your snack, your began to question it. “What the hell?” You think to yourself as you watch in the rearview mirror, waiting for some sign of life. You take a picture of the license plate on the vehicle, and finally the door opened, and a stocky man got out of the passenger side, getting ready to fill the car up. You waited for the man to stick the nozzle into the tank, before starting the truck quickly and leaving. You laid into the gas pedal pretty heavy, not trusting anyone at this point and wanting to put some distance between you and anyone else on the road.

It was just after 6:30AM, and you were now halfway to Los Angeles. You were cruising, passing through the ghost mining towns of Nevada. You took a sip of your water, glancing in all your mirrors, but your vision froze on the rearview. The same black sedan you had seen at the gas station was just far enough behind you to be barely discernible, but you knew better. “Siri, call Kris.” You bark out to the truck’s infotainment system. The phone starts to ring, and she picks up almost immediately.

“Morning, sunshine.” She was definitely more awake at this point that earlier. “Having fun out there?”

“Kris, stop it. Listen to me. I need you to look up a license plate for me. I don’t know where this guy has come from, but he’s been with me since the gas station in Wilder, at least.”

“Are you positive? I mean, LA is a big city, and it wouldn’t be unheard of for someone else to be driving here either.” She questioned.

“Kris, in the amount of time I have been making this drive, I have never once, had someone on my tail for this long. Something is up.”

“Fine. What’s the tag?”

“Montana, Bravo, X-Ray, Romeo 566.”

“Hmm… That’s odd.” She clicked her tongue, a clear sign that she was perplexed.

“What??” Her tone not reassuring you.

“Are you sure it’s a Montana tag? Nothings coming up.”

“Yes, I’m sure! I have a picture of it.” You look back to see the car maintaining the same distance, not really gaining on you.

“Well, it isn’t coming back viable. What kind of car is it?”

“It’s a late model Malibu, like a 2015 or so. Black, blacked out windows.”

“Let me do some digging. Can you send me the picture you took?”

“Yeah, it should be coming across soon.”

“I’ll let you know if I find anything, Y/N. Let me know if anything changes.” She states, clearly becoming distracted by the task before her.

“Kris?”

“Yeah, Y/L/N?”

“I’m gonna detour. See if this guy follows me, or if he’s really just going towards LA. I’ll be another hour.”

“So around 2-2:30? Are you routing around Reno?”

“Yeah, I think that’s best. I don’t trust these guys.” You state, not signaling but taking the last minute route towards Reno, straying away from your original route.

“Guys? There’s more than one in the car?” This had clearly grabbed her attention.

“Yeah, unless the guy decided to climb over the center console and get out of the passenger side to fill his car with gas. But that wouldn’t really help the suspicion factor much.” You state.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful. This is starting to smell fishy.” She hung up the phone before you could respond. Of course, if she knew the whole story of this weekend, and the information you had uncovered and remembered, her tone would be entirely different, and she would be reading you the riot act for making this trip alone, let alone not flying the helicopter. You just hoped that in her digging, you would be able to figure out who the car belonged to. But there was a sneaking suspicion that there wouldn’t be an answer to that.

You kept a trained eye on your rear view mirror, waiting to see if the car would end up following you towards the smaller casino town. So far, you hadn’t seen any sign of the vehicle, but you were keeping your head on a swivel. You looked down, noticing that you were close to needing gas again, so you decided to go to a station that was off the main drag through Reno, but still allowed you the view to keep an eye out for the suspicious Malibu. You propped you head up against the side of the truck with your arms, while waiting for the signal that the tank was full. You looked at the watch on your wrist, knowing that by this point, you had been driving for almost 9 hours. It was now almost 9 am, and you still had almost 8 hours to go. You had also been up since 4:30 yesterday morning, but with the swirling anxiety, and current state of affairs you had no will to sleep.

Kris still had not reached out with any info, which worried you because you spoke about 3 hours ago. Once the pump clicked off, you walked around, shaking the remaining fuel off the nozzle tip, and placing it back on the pump before shutting the gas door. You looked around again, still not seeing any sign of the mystery sedan, and went inside of the truck stop rest station to grab some more food and a form of liquified energy to keep you going. You glanced up and down the row of coolers, selecting a few energy drinks, another couple of water bottles before stopping by the food cooler to grab yourself a breakfast sandwich and a Lunchable. You were checking out, and examined the people within the truck stop, as well as those outside. You gathered the items for the remainder of your journey, pushing your way out the door as you felt your phone vibrate. You fumbled around with your snacks and beverages, trying to get a hold on your phone, not even paying any mind to the screen, just outright answering with the hopes that Kris had found something out.

“Tsk tsk tsk… Y/L/N, I think I gave you too much credit.” The strong male voice of Waters came through the receiver again. “I know that you saw me tailing you. If I didn’t want to be seen, then you would have never known. And you don’t think I know where you're going? It doesn’t make a damned difference what route you take, I’ll just meet you there.” His voice crackled through the receiver, letting you know that he is likely about to loose cell service. “Get some rest in Reno, Y/L/N, I’ll be waiting for you in LA.” He gave you no time to respond before hanging up the phone. You set all your drinks and food in the cooler next to you, before throwing your phone on the floor in frustration and slamming your hands into the steering wheel. The process of repeated abuse to the wheel opening the wound on your right hand and causing it to bleed. “Fuck! Not again!” You think to yourself, reaching into the back seat, grabbing the first aid kit that you kept under the bench, and gently rewrapping your hand to encapsulate the blood loss.

At this point in your journey, you were regretting the choice to not fly into LA- had you done that you would have landed just after midnight, and would have been able to at least rest at the office. But if this prick was coming after Scarlett, and you were conveniently in the cross hairs, this would require immediate attention. You debated calling the actress to see if she had ever really laid eyes on your former Sergeant, but remembered that Kris was the only one besides you that knew about him showing up by your place, and you weren’t ready to divulge this entire story to Paul, Cliff or Scarlett. Not yet.

(CHAPTER 8)

#communicatethrulyrics #wlw fanfic #scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johannsen #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson x fem!reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #ILYBOMTJALTM

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miguels-talons · 1 year

Note

Okay, prompt but where Atreus tests out shapeshifting between male and female and he really wants to try makeup like he sees on Freya and he visits her to learn how she does it I would cry

Kratos is supportive in his own quiet way

no shut up cause this idea was so sweet i had to write something... and it got way longer than id been expecting. so here ya'll go!!

(disclaimers: i am on laptop so i can add the read more! also im not genderfluid so i wrote this based off of what i have read about being genderfluid mixed with my own experiences as someone who has struggled with no gender being comfy thing

also i didnt make the one who helped with the makeup be freya mY BAD I FORGOT bout that part of the ask and instead its angrboda now whoops)

Atreus had always wondered what it's like to be a girl, ever since he was younger. He'd ask his mom about it when he was younger, and no matter how much she ever explained to him, he never fully understood it, but by the Norns he wanted to understand. Most days, he was fine, not wondering about it. In fact, it never crossed his mind, and it didn’t matter. The other days, however, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He wanted to feel feminine. He wanted to understand; he wanted to wear dresses and makeup and be called pretty. He wanted to be looked at as a woman, not a man. It is such an odd feeling when this does happen, and he can never control it. He can tell it's more of a… “feminine day”, as he’s started to refer to it as, when he wants to paint his nails and grow his hair so long it nearly trails on the ground behind him like a cape.

He always tried to avoid Father as much as he could when he was younger on those days. Because he always called him “boy”, even on the days Atreus wanted to be a girl and not a boy. He felt bad about it, because Father didn’t know that. But he never knew how to articulate how he was feeling, because he didn’t even understand it.

He still doesn’t as he stares at his reflection in the water now, observing his face, skin itching. It’s a feminine day today, and he wants nothing more than to change his face, his hair and appearance to appear more of a woman…

…Wait a second. He can shapeshift. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? He can change his appearance. Normally it’s only between a bear, a wolf and his normal self, but maybe, maybe he could simply change his gender? His sex?

He’s not sure, but he could certainly give it a try.

Concentrating hard on his face and his appearance in the water’s reflection- the trees of Ironwood as a backdrop- he focuses on that shifting in his gut when he changes form. He screws his eyes shut as his cheeks and forehead begin to burn, eyes stinging. He feels his chest shifting, his hands changing, even his stomach and legs and feet. Then he feels a change in a certain area and his eyes snap open.

A new face stares back up at him from his reflection.

Instead of his regular face, with its smooth cheeks and curves, his face is much sharper, cheekbones stronger and his eyes much more narrow. His nose has become larger, his eyebrows thicker. His lips are plumper, and his cheeks have darkened with red. His hair is no longer shaved into his trademark style, but is much longer, falling like a curtain around his shoulders and over his wider chest. Some parts of it have curled itself into braids, while most of it flows freely.

He… He almost looks like Mother.

Atreus quickly hops to his feet, and finds that his thighs are thicker, his calves wider. Even his arms, hands and feet have changed, and he looks himself over with awe.

He really did it. He changed his sex.

And while he looks a lot different in his new female form, he is still distinctively himself. He’s just… more sharp and long angles like his mother rather than his father’s broad and curved muscles. His strength is more obvious in this body, somehow, with his biceps defined and his calves strong.

He can’t stop staring at himself. He’s finally… feminine. He’s not a man. He’s a woman. A beautiful, gorgeous woman that’s not a rugged or handsome man. He feels giddy, and without thinking, he rushes to where he can normally find Angrboda; at her home painting on wood or large sheets of paper.

Sure enough, Atreus finds her there, Fenrir laid down nearby. He runs to her, grinning hugely while waving his hands. Angrboda smiles, looking across at him, “Hey Loki-!” until she suddenly loses her smile, no recognition in her eyes she stares at him. She drops her art supplies, standing defensively as he stops nearby, confused. Fenrir smells her fear and peaks his eyes open, but smells his father’s scent, and so he does not snarl at Loki. Instead, he lays his head back down. “Who the Hel are you?!”

Oh. Right. He’s not as recognizable as this. “Angrboda!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up to show he isn’t aggressive. “It’s me, Loki!”

Angrboda hesitates, tilting her head to the side, eyes squinting as she studies his face. Finally, she relaxes, but her eyebrows stay raised. “Woah,” she says, cupping her chin between her thumb and forefinger. “It is you. You look… different.”

He grins again, flapping his hands at his side to help release some of the energy. “Yeah!” he says, grin somehow doubling as he crosses the rest of the way to stand in front of her. He grabs her hands in his, both slotting together near perfectly. “I shapeshifted into a woman!”

“What? Why?” she demands, and for some reason, she sounds angry. Atreus hesitates, grin faltering at her tone. Why does she sound angry? “That’s disgus-”

“Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone else?” he asks, voice dropping as his words crack. She snaps her mouth shut, frowning at him before she nods in response. He wets his lips, nervous. He’s never told even Sindri or Mimir about his past feminine days. But he knows he can trust Angrboda. He quickly tells her, some of his words crashing together with his nerves. Angrboda listens intently, not looking away from him once, their hands still entwined.

Once he’s finished, she nods. “I completely understand,” she says, and his eyes widen at her admission. “I-” she draws in a breath through her nose, and just as quickly as he’d spoken, she tells him, “When I was born, I was a boy. But I never felt like a boy. So I became a woman. So I am a woman. I just never feel like a boy again unlike you.”

“Really?” Atreus asks, his voice dipping with surprise. When she nods, her eyes filled with tears, he lets out a shaky laugh. “Oh- wow! I never… I never thought there’d be anyone else like me! Or that anyone else would understand.”

Angrboda’s eyes widen with surprise, “You’re- you believe me?” When he nods in response, brows furrowed with confusion, she lets out her breath, “Sorry. No one else has understood. My parents tried to, but my… my grandmother never even tried to.” She throws her arms around him to hug him suddenly, laughing as she does so. “This is amazing, Loki!”

Atreus once more grins and quickly hugs her back, breathing shakily. “It really is, Angrboda!” Then, hesitantly he asks, “Does that… does that mean I can be… referred to as a.. Woman…?” It sounds silly to ask out loud. He was born a boy after all, even if he did change his sex. He’s not like Angrboda, who truly became a woman. He wants to be a boy again… eventually. He doesn’t know when, but he will at some point.

But she merely pulls back, grinning at him brightly. “Of course!” she exclaims with excitement. “You are a woman when you want to be, Loki! And you are a boy when you want to be, too! I’ll do my best to keep up with you.” She hugs him again. “You are… quite pretty.”

In an instant, his- no, her- cheeks burst with heat. She chuckles sheepishly as pulls away shyly. “Aw, thanks,” she says quietly. Angrboda merely giggles at her, and catches one of her hands.

“I mean it, Loki,” she says earnestly. “You’re really pretty.” Then, she tilts her head to the side, studying Atreus once again. “Want a makeover? I’ve never tried doing someone else’s makeup but-”

“Yes yes yes please!” Atreus shouts quickly, nodding her head eagerly. She grips Angrboda’s hand tightly with her excitement, and Angrboda grins back, tugging her towards her treehouse.

“Right this way then, little lady!” Angrboda says, and Atreus finally realizes that as a girl, she is much shorter than Angrboda. Which isn’t fair, because Mother had been just as tall as Father and they’re both huge. So why is she never huge as a girl or a boy? Makes no sense in her opinion.

“I’m not that short,” she argues, and Angrboda snorts.

“Uh, yeah, you are.”

“Am not!”

“Sure sure. Let’s get you some eyeshadow… What color? Orange to contrast your eyes and match your hair? Or…”

----

Atreus breathes heavily as she approaches her and father’s home, tugging at the color of her armor fitted for her body in this form. Angrboda had helped her make it, because apparently, that’s another of the Giant’s talents. They seem to be endless, and Atreus will never stop loving her for it.

Years after going on her solo journey, she’s finally returning home. And on a feminine day, no less… At first, she’d been debating on whether to just see her father again as a boy, but Angrboda had been firm in the fact that Atreus should not change herself. Not even for her father. Or anybody, for that matter.

“He loves you,” Angrboda had pointed out one night as they watched the stars together. “Even if he doesn’t really understand it, he’ll try to, and he’ll still love you.” She grinned at him, and he smiled back at her nervously, “Besides, you’ll want to tell him one day. Why not rip the bandage off now?”

Atreus is beginning to regret listening to her. She knows she’s right; Father does love him. He’s proved it time and again, no matter what she has done. Yet it’s still nerve wracking.

“Just act as if nothing has changed,” Angrboda suggested. “I did it with my parents until they asked, and then I answered all of their questions. Helps things be less awkward. Or, it did for us, anyways.”

So that’s what she’s going to do. Act as if nothing is different. She can do that. Hopefully.

She reaches the entrance to their home and knocks. Quietly at first, before doing so again louder. It takes only a moment for the door to open, revealing her father on the other side. And it takes only a moment longer for Father to recognize him, eyes going wide as he stares down at her.

“Atreus…” Father breathes, disbelief in his tone. Atreus smiles up at him nervously, and scratches the back of her head nervously. She’s still shorter than him… Sure she’s grown, and now stands at the height of his shoulder, but she’d been hoping for more! Maybe as a boy she’s finally at least as tall as him.

“Hey, Father,” she says, trying to put as much confidence into her voice as possible. “It’s, uh… been a while, huh?”

There are tears in Father’s eyes, and suddenly, he’s reaching through the distance between them. He cups one of Atreus’s cheeks, his touch featherlight, barely brushing against his cheeks. Atreus’s own eyes are beginning to sting.

“You look just like her,” he whispers, words and voice tight. Her heart stops at the mention of Mother, and a few tears do slip free. Father brushes them away with his thumb, a great pain but love in his eyes. An old, deep pain rooted from the past. “Am I now to call you beautiful?”

Atreus’s eyes widen with shock, and her lips begin to shake as she realizes that Father already understands without her even needing to explain. She sniffles and pushes forward, hugging him tightly. He hugs her back, holding her close and tight.

“Y- yeah,” she says shakily, shoulders slightly shaking. “For today, yeah. Yeah. Beautiful.”

“Then you are beautiful, and I have missed, daughter,” Father mumbles, and Atreus is suddenly tiny again, the tiny child who had been confused by everything but always searching for their father’s approval and understanding. Finally. Finally she knows that he does, and always would have, if only she had, too.

Atreus nods against his chest, fingers digging into the new fur cape Father had sewn.

They are Father and son.

They are Father and daughter.

And they are Father and child.

#wow i talk #gow #god of war #god of war ragnarok #gowr #ragnarok #atreus #kratos #angrboda #my writing #my fic #ask #genderfluid #genderqueer

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pillbug-armor · 3 months

Text

Professor x Student slow burn

8k words

summary: When Professor Jonathan Holbrook meets his new TA, Emma Morgan, he is struck by her magnetic, charming personality. Before long, he finds himself drawn to her in ways that violate every rule of professionalism in the book. When they find themselves alone in his office after a long semester together, Jonathan finds that his resolve is not as unbreakable as he would hope...

cw: age difference (legal), prof-student relationship, protected seggsual activity, p in v, unequal power dynamics

original characters, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

this is a pretty slow burn, with full consent from both characters bc i think it's important also find it really hot. Also has a bit of a softer feel, the characters like each other a lot/have a relationship outside of the seggs. hope you like it, bc i had a great time writing it! also if you are a compsci nerd this one goes out ya'll bc holbrook is a data science professor haha

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

The first day of a semester was always simmering with energy. Professor Jonathan Holbrook was still getting used to the fact that it was his job to capture and direct the attention of an entire lecture hall full of early twenty-somethings.

He looked at the clock on his computer screen: 9:26 AM. In four minutes, he wouldn’t be Jonathan, the newly 30 year old man who had struggled to drag himself out of bed two hours earlier with a sore neck. He would be Professor Holbrook, sharp, alert, assertive, ready to share his passion for data science with approximately 250 people who may or may not feel the same.

Absent-mindedly, he tipped his chair back and forth, bracing one foot against the podium from which he’d soon be delivering an icebreaking personal introduction.

“Professor Holbrook?”

With a slight jerk, he righted his chair. A student was standing in front of him.

Shaking her hand, he replied, “Yes, that’s me.”

Her grip was as firm and assured as her voice. She smiled and said, “Hi, I’m Emma. Emma Morgan. I’m your TA for this semester.”

“Emma! It’s great to finally put a face to your name. Would you want to sit up here? Or would you rather sit with the students?” He noticed that she had curly brown hair and freckles, neither of which had been apparent in her tiny email profile photo.

She turned to look out at the lecture hall. “I think I’d like to sit with the students. I mean, I feel more like a student than anything else.” The corner of her mouth quirked up, and she walked over to a seat in the front row and set her backpack down.

Jonathan nodded, then glanced at his laptop again. 9:29 AM. He turned back towards Emma, who was looking at him with a slight furrow in her brow.

“You ready for the semester, Emma?”

Her face relaxed, and her brown eyes met his. “Ready as I can be, I guess.”

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

“Hey, Professor Holbrook”.

Jonathan looked up from the email he had been typing. “Hi Emma. You don’t have to call me Professor Holbrook, by the way. You can just call me Jonathan.”

Shrugging her backpack off her shoulders, she replied, “If you say so. Where do you want me to sit?” In the current emptiness of his office, her purple and blue striped shirt was the only pop of color.

Hastily, he reached out and pulled a chair up next to his own. “Here’s fine. And would you mind closing the door before you sit down?”

She shut the door gently, sat down, and turned to face him, legs crossed at the ankle. He pushed up his sleeves and turned to grab his planner. As he was about to ask Emma how her morning was going, he noticed her gaze had settled on his forearm.

Almost as quickly as he’d noticed, she flicked her eyes back up at him. Her mouth opened slightly, soundlessly, before she said, “Sorry. Uh, I like your tattoos. Is that a parakeet?”

“Yeah, it’s a blue winged parakeet. I had one as a kid and it was my favorite pet of all time.”

She smiled, crossed her arms, then uncrossed them and set them in her lap. She ran a hand through her hair, then said, “That’s cool. Birds are my favorite animals.” For a second longer, she held his gaze, then she looked down, waiting for him to continue.

Her nervousness was making him slightly nervous as well. He laughed politely, then said, “So anyways. Let me give you the rundown of how recitation is going to work. Then, we can discuss when you’d like to have your office hours, and anything else you have questions about.”

This first weekly meeting went by smoothly. Jonathan found that he did most of the talking; Emma rarely interrupted him to ask questions. She took notes in a somewhat battered, plain notebook, writing unhurriedly. Her hands were delicate, nails perfectly painted a light shade of pink.

As their meeting came to a close, Jonathan said, “Do you have any questions for me?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She paused, then said, “Do you have any for me?”

He thought for a brief moment. “How has your first week back on campus been, Emma?”

She blinked at him, then said “Good. I mean senior year is going to be super busy, but I’m really glad that I get to see all my friends all the time.”

He replied, “Well, that’s good. I’m thankful to have you as a TA. You seem very organized and on top of it.”

At this, she laughed. “Don’t be fooled by the notebook, Jonathan.” He found himself smiling as she said, “I actually have no idea what’s on most of these pages”.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, checked the time, then said, “I have to go to my next class. I’ll see you in lecture tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

She stood, threw her backpack over one shoulder, then turned and walked into the hallway.

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

“Aaaaand voila. Ok, if you’ve been following along, you’ll see that the output of this function should match the correlation coefficient given in the answer key.”

By now, a month into the semester, Jonathan had eased back into the swing of lecturing. He felt he’d established a good rapport with his students; a decent number of them even showed up to office hours.

He hit the Enter key to run the code cell he’d just written, only to be shown a red “error” message. A murmur broke out through the lecture hall.

He sighed, then said, “Don’t panic guys, this is only the 8th time this has happened this week.” He scrolled to the top of the cell, combing through the lines to find his mistake.

“Jonathan.”

He looked up, and saw that Emma had raised her hand. “What’s up?”

She grinned mischievously, then said, “You spelled “scipy” wrong at the top. Like where you include the libraries.”

He made a show of scrolling very slowly back to the top of the cell, and saw that she was correct.

The students laughed, and he laughed with them. He raised his hands in defeat and said, “I’m a computer guy, not an English major.”

As the noise died down, Emma said, “You do know that “python” starts with “p-y” right? Not “p-i.”

He shot back, “Emma. You double indented like 7 lines in a for loop last week and you couldn’t figure out what was wrong with your code.” As he spoke, he moved to the front of the podium so he was standing in front of her.

In mock outrage, she put a hand on her chest. “That’s because I was using your stupid new IDE that runs on GitHub Copilot”.

As he stepped closer to her chair, she bent her neck to look up at him. He looked directly into her eyes and said, “Let us know when you’re ready to leave the stone age and join us in 2023.”

He was acutely aware that everyone in the classroom was looking at them, as their banter had become a regular occurrence in every lecture.

She raised a hand to the side of her neck and took a breath in. He saw the rise and fall of her chest, the way her hand brushed the smooth, soft, skin of her jaw.

After a beat, she extended her hand towards him. He stepped even closer to her, and grasped her hand in his. He swore he could feel her pulse in her fingers.

She shook his hand, then said, “I’ll send a smoke signal to your iPhone.”

He grinned as the class laughed, and stepped back behind the podium. As he continued on with his lecture, his gaze kept falling on Emma, and the soft smile that never left her face.

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

8:30 AM was too early to be on campus by any metric. Yawning unabashedly, Jonathan walked towards the undergraduate lounge, the only room with an espresso machine in the engineering building. He couldn’t wait for a shot of raw caffeine to jolt him awake.

When he pulled open the door, he was surprised to see Emma there, sitting on the sofa, laptop perched on one thigh.

She looked up at him briefly. “Hey.”

He blinked. “What are you doing here so early?”

Her fingers brushed the touchpad of her machine as she said, “I have interview grading downstairs in like 20 minutes, and I figured I’d get here a bit early to add some final comments to my code.”

Jonathan leaned one hand against the table, then said, “What’s the project?”

She grimaced, then replied, “It’s an optimization lab.”

“Hmm.” He thought for a second. “Want me to take a look at it?”

“Sure,” Emma said.

At the same time that he moved to sit on the couch, she stood to place her laptop on the table. Jonathan froze. Emma was still, both hands clutching her laptop, eyes shifting to the side. After a beat, he said, “Let’s just sit on the couch, you were already there anyways.”

Nodding, she sat back down. He took a seat next to her.

Without looking at him, she went back to scrolling. She brushed a few curls away from her face as she explained her code to him.

As Jonathan gave his feedback, he noticed, for the first time, the light brown, almost shimmery hair on her forearms, and that she had a thin gold chain around her neck, the small pendant resting against the junction of her collarbone and her throat. Her white sneakers were scuffed, and she had purple ankle socks on. Suddenly, he was very aware that his thighs were only a few inches away from hers, and that he could see the outline, the shape of her crossed legs through her blue jeans.

He folded his hands in his lap, looked over at Emma, and asked her why she had written a particular line of code with recursion instead of a loop.

She smiled and nodded, pointing at the line of code he’d referred to. She had a perfect cupid’s bow, and her teeth were rounded and had slight gaps in between them.

Jonathan’s mouth felt dry. He cleared his throat and said, “I think you’ll be fine. There are a couple places where a little restructuring could make the code run even faster, but honestly at that point it’s diminishing returns, you know?”

Emma’s gaze met his, and he was momentarily struck by the warmth in her brown eyes, despite the tired, purplish shadow that lay beneath each one. She yawned, and Jonathan almost looked away, but he didn’t, instead noticing the way her head tipped back, exposing the skin under her jaw, the way her tongue rested against her bottom teeth.

She closed her laptop and slid it into her backpack. Jonathan blinked, feeling like some charge in the air had just vanished.

“Thanks for the feedback, Jonathan. I appreciate you taking the time to help me out.”

He nodded, and said, “Anytime. You can always Slack me if you have questions about this kind of thing.”

She got up, and moved so she was standing directly in front of him. His knees were directly across from hers. she said, “I’ll let you know how interview grading goes. See you later, in lecture.”

“Sounds good,” He replied. She left the room, and for a few seconds, Jonathan stayed on the couch, not moving.

He couldn’t believe that he’d thought to himself that, if he’d just reached out, he could have slid his hands under her t-shirt and onto the soft curves of her waist, and pulled her down until she was sitting on his lap.

Uneasily, he looked around. Nobody was there. He took a deep breath. It wasn’t as if people could see his thoughts anyways.

It was going to be fine. It was just a fleeting thought, and, of course, Emma was beautiful. Anyone could see that. He was sure his mind wouldn’t betray him like that again.

He got up, made his espresso, and went back to his office.

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

As the next few weeks went by, Jonathan was starting to think that maybe he should request a different TA for the next semester. Emma was extremely helpful to him, always attentive to student’s questions in lecture, always completing tasks he asked of her on time. She was never late to a weekly meeting, and she was smart and funny to boot.

But. Ever since running into her that early morning in the undergraduate lounge, his thoughts had become more and more intrusive. Rationally, he knew that the more he tried not to think them, the more they would take over his mind, but he couldn’t help it. Some kind of floodgate had opened, and he was powerless to stop the contents of his imagination from bursting through.

During lecture, they bantered and conversed as usual in front of the class, and he was starting to feel like the student’s eyes were too much. Surely, every time he spoke to Emma, every time he walked out from behind the podium to stand in front of her seat, they could see that he was drawn to her like a magnet. Surely they could see that his eyes flickered to her lips, her hands, the delicate lines of her chest visible through her clothes. Surely they had noticed that he smiled every time she smiled, that he was inventing excuses to tease her and get her attention as he spoke.

Emma was a student, a good student. It was completely unfair to her that his wayward thoughts threatened the professionalism of their interactions.

But he couldn’t help it. When they had their weekly meetings, where it was just the two of them in his office behind a closed door for 30 whole minutes, he was overtaken by thoughts of what they could be doing instead of discussing curricular materials. He felt like he was gripping onto a mask of normalcy, struggling not to let even a hint of these imaginings show on his face when she was there.

But when she left, and the door to his office closed, he would lean back in his chair, and his mind’s eye would open, hungry for something he could never see. He had given up trying to restrain it.

He could see himself asking her how she was doing, how she was really doing. She would sigh and tell him that senior year was stressful, that she was struggling to figure out her next steps post undergrad. He would place his hands on hers, tell her that she had nothing to worry about, that she was so smart and capable that he was sure she would find her way. She would look into his eyes, the warm, melty brown color blooming in his vision, and she would incline her head towards his. He would lean in, breathe in the clean scent of her skin, brush his lips against her jaw, her neck, lace his fingers through the soft curls of her hair. He could see her breath quickening, her eyes closing, her fingers tightening their grip on his. He could hear the way she would try not to make a sound.

He could make her feel so good, he knew he could. He knew his hands could wrap around her waist, support the weight of her body if he held her close. He wondered what she had experienced in the past, if anyone else had touched and caressed and kissed and tasted her in the ways that he couldn’t stop imagining.

He also knew that none of this could or would happen. It was probably in their best interest that he found a new TA for the next semester. He dreaded having to tell Emma this, knowing that she couldn’t know the true reason for his request. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

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

The last day of the semester before winter break had arrived. All day, Jonathan had been helping to run the fall undergraduate showcase, where top students from various engineering disciplines displayed projects that they had worked on this year in class. Some highlights had been a web app that summarized terms and conditions, a working smartwatch prototype meant to help remind people to take medications, and a 3d printed fully articulating human hand with working motors that could theoretically be modified into a prosthetic limb.

He checked his phone. 9:00pm. All that was left to do was fold up the last few tables and chairs, put them to the side of the engineering lobby for the cleaning crew to put into storage, and then finally, he could go home for the night.

“Hey, is there anything else you need help with?” Emma’s voice brought his attention back to the tasks at hand.

“If you just wanna fold up those chairs over there and put them on that rack over there, that would be great.”

He watched her walk away. For a second, he braced his forehead with his fingertips, and suppressed a sigh.

He still hadn’t told Emma that he was going to be requesting a new TA for the upcoming semester. At this point, he was going to have to send her an email over break. Maybe it was better that way. Simple and quick. Impersonal. Professional.

Even now, he had to measure his actions around her. It was starting to become unbearable, being near her and being unable to give substance to the thoughts that had been plaguing him.

Another faculty member caught his eye and waved. “I’m gonna head out. Have a good break!”

He smiled tersely and waved back. His eyes surveyed the lobby, and he found that it had been tidied up satisfactorily.

“Emma.” He called her name. She turned to look at him. “I think we’re good on cleanup. You wanna come up to my office with me to grab your stuff?”

She nodded. “Sure. It’s getting late.”

Side by side, they walked down a long hallway, footsteps echoing in the emptiness. After climbing a stairwell and turning a corner, Jonathan rummaged in his pocket for a key, unlocked the door to his office, and flicked on a light switch.

He grabbed a couple notebooks off his desk and put them on a shelf, then looked over at Emma, who was blinking at the sudden onslaught of bright light. She pulled a jacket out of her bag and started putting it on.

“Do you have a way of getting home? It’s getting cold out there.”

Emma responded, “Yeah, the bus runs for another hour, so I should be good. Thanks for asking.”

He nodded, surveying his office for any other things that might need to be stored away during break.

“Jonathan?”

He paused. Emma stood, leaning on his desk, arms crossed. Her curly hair fell loose around her shoulders, slightly frizzy from rubbing against her jacket.

“Yes?”

Emma moistened her lips with her tongue, then swallowed. Jonathan tried not to look at the way her throat bobbed up and down.

“Thanks for having me as a TA. I had a lot of fun working with you this semester.”

She was staring into his eyes. She smiled at him, and he felt like he was going to lose his mind. Continuing on, she said, “Also, I appreciate you helping me out with looking for internships and stuff like that. And for giving me advice on projects. Seriously, you didn’t have to take the time to do all that. I really…I really felt like you were looking out for me.”

Against his will, Jonathan took a step forward, closing a good portion of the distance between them. She was now standing between him and the desk, neck craned slightly up to meet his gaze.

He chose his next words carefully. “You’re a good…person, Emma. You really helped me out a lot this semester. I’m thankful to have had you as my TA.”

Emma swallowed again. Her eyes hadn’t left his, not even for a second. She uncrossed her arms, and gripped the edge of the desk with her hands.

He added, “If you ever need help with anything else, Emma, you can always email me. Or Slack me. I’ll be here.”

She blinked up at him, and nodded her head. “I appreciate that, Jonathan. You’ve helped me out a lot too.” He saw that her knuckles had tightened on the desk.

His heart dropped. Oh no. He’d failed. Somehow she knew all the wildly inappropriate thoughts that had passed through his brain for the better part of the semester. He was finished.

But then, he saw something else. A pink flush had begun to creep up her neck. For a beat, he didn’t say anything. He felt like if he looked at her any longer he was going to go blind.

After a moment, he said, “Emma. Are you ok?”

She let go of the desk with one hand, and pressed it against her neck, trying and failing to cover up the redness that was now flushing into her cheeks. “Yeah. Sorry. Yeah I’m fine. I’m just…I’m just tired.”

“You should probably go home, Emma. Get some rest. It’s been a long semester and a long day.” He couldn’t believe that he was taking a step closer to her, even as he said this. He didn’t know if he’d ever stood this close to her. He didn’t know what in the world was possessing him to act like this. Every rational fiber of his being was screaming at him to step away from her, to let her go.

Emma looked down at her shoes, then crossed one leg over the other, one hip jutting out as she shifted her weight. For an agonizing second, she didn’t say anything.

Jonathan’s heart was starting to race. She was going to report him. She was going to tell someone that he shouldn’t be a professor at this school any more.

Without looking at him, she mumbled. “The bus doesn’t get here for another 20 minutes. Maybe I could wait in here?”

No. She couldn’t wait in here. If she stayed in here, in his office, in this empty building where everyone else had gone home for break, his final thread of rationality and self control was going to snap.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine. I mean, you can also probably just wait in the lobby. I mean, not that I need you to leave. Like I can wait with you. If you want. In the lobby. Or here. Whatever makes you more comfortable.” Christ, this was bad. He sounded nothing like the grown, adult professor that he had to be while he was on this campus.

She leveled his gaze with her gorgeous, endlessly alluring brown eyes. “I’ll just wait here.”

He stared at her. Her cheeks were fully flushed pink now, and he suddenly noticed that her breathing had become measured, as if she was struggling to exert control over it.

This wasn’t happening. This was definitely happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Slowly, slowly, he leaned towards her. He was easily almost a foot taller than she was, so he had to bend down quite a bit. He put his hands on the desk, one on each side of her. Without touching her at all, he moved his head until his mouth was a breath away from her jawbone.

Her eyes closed, and her head tilted back. She inhaled, and he swore he could see her pulse jumping in her neck.

Into her ear, he said. “Emma.”

At the sound of his voice, she exhaled deeply. She said, in a voice lower than he’d ever heard her use. “Professor Holbrook.”

He hovered there, still holding himself back from fully closing the space between them. For a second, there was no sound in his office but their breathing.

Jonathan knew at that moment that it was over. He was absolutely powerless to stop whatever happened next. He’d spent months resisting, fighting himself off, just for it all to end like this.

Softly, he pressed his lips to Emma’s ear. She shivered, but made no motion to move away from him. Into the warmth of her skin he said slowly, “You should just call me Jonathan.”

She let go of the desk and placed her hand on his exposed forearm, onto the tattoo of a parakeet that she’d commented on all those months ago. He felt her fingers land on his skin with every single nerve that he had. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Emma. Are you alright?”

She turned to look at him, their noses inches apart. She nodded, fingers stroking over his arm softly, eyes searching his face.

“Good” He rasped. He lifted a hand and cupped the side of her face, bending her head slightly away from him to expose the flushed skin of her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed once more, and she sighed softly. She placed her hand on top of his, lightly encouraging him to hold her. He bent his head down and kissed her right beneath the ear, firmly and slowly, savoring the way her breathing had become ragged and uncontrolled. As he pressed into her slightly with his tongue, fingers nestled in her curly hair, she softened, leaning into his touch fluidly. Jonathan’s mind had completely fogged over, and he was aware of nothing but the feeling of her skin, the heat now radiating off of her.

She moved to unzip her jacket, and he helped her shrug it off her shoulders, letting it land unceremoniously on the floor. She jumped up so she was sitting on the desk, and he knelt carefully in front of her. Her hands were resting on her thighs; he grabbed them and placed them onto his shoulders. They felt warm even through his shirt, and Jonathan was remembering the sheer number of times he’d imagined her perfectly painted nails dragging against his skin. The upper part of her chest was exposed by her sweater, and he leaned in and kissed his way down her sternum, breathing in the vibrations in her chest as she gasped. Her grip on his shoulders tightened, and he had to stifle a groan. He nudged her knees apart with one elbow, and moved forward so she was bracing her inner thighs on either side of his torso. Placing a hand on each of her hips, right where her jeans met the curve of her narrow waist, Jonathan reverently pulled her body closer to his, relishing the feeling of her hips pressing up against him.

As he moved his mouth lower down her chest, she squeezed her legs tighter around him. Her breathing deepened, he could see the haphazard rise and fall of her shoulders. He wanted to feel more of her skin, more of her warmth. He slid his hands up under her sweater, fingers splaying against the smooth muscles of her back.

Emma moaned softly, and Jonathan stopped, resting the side of his face against her stomach.

“Jonathan.” He looked up at her face, and saw that her mouth was slightly open, her skin starting to dampen slightly with a light sheen of sweat.

“Yes, Emma?”

She started to say something, but then slowly moved her hands onto his forearms instead. Without breaking eye contact, she pulled his hands up higher, so that her sweater slid up against her body, exposing her navel and the lower part of her ribcage. Her skin was beautiful, rosy and smooth and soft to the touch.

Jonathan couldn’t hold back. He stood, gently pressing on her with his hands so she reclined onto his desk. She looked into his eyes as she laid back, searching his face. Her legs were still on either side of him as he bent over her, pressing slow, methodical kisses onto her stomach, her ribcage, where her bra concealed the lower curve of her small breasts.

Her hips lifted against his thighs, and tension pooled in his lower stomach. He felt himself hardening against the fabric of his pants. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d felt like this, so single mindedly focused on the task at hand.

He pulled her sweater up, over her head, and off her body. She was perfect, every bit as perfect as he’d imagined her to be. Her jeans hung loosely off her hips, her shoulders were sloped and elegant and curved perfectly into her neck, and he could see the peaks of small nipples nudging at the gray cotton fabric of her bra. One of them was intersected by a horizontal barbell. Jonathan felt a surge of heat course through him, upon finding out that his TA had had someone run a needle and metal jewelry through such a sensitive and hidden part of her body.

He grabbed her by the waist and moved her farther up onto the table. He brushed the sides of her ribcage with his thumbs, and he pressed his mouth to the upper curve of her breast. A small sound escaped her throat.

“Is this okay, Emma?”

She nodded soundlessly. He knew it was in fact not okay, that he was breaking every single rule about student-faculty relations he could think of. But he didn’t care, he couldn’t care. Deftly, he pressed his tongue onto her nipple, wetting the thin fabric covering it. She jerked against him, and a moan left her lips. She traced her hands up to his head from his shoulders, fingers pulling slightly at his hair. The sensation shot through him and settled low into his hips, and he sucked in a breath. Without thinking, he surged forwards, pressing himself into her, and she responded by arching her back up off the desk. The thought that she could feel his length, that his stiffness felt as good to her as her softness did to him, made his pulse race.

Jonathan reached up to cup her small breast; it rested perfectly in his hand. He used the pad of his thumb to brush lightly over her nipple, and he felt it harden at his touch. The color was high in her cheeks now, and her face had an expression that he’d only ever seen deep in the recesses of his mind. He hooked his thumb under the elastic band of her bra and pulled it up, fingers pressing soft dents into her skin. She was beautiful, her nipples perfectly round and a warm shade of light pink, accented by the gold barbell she had chosen. Even here, she had a light dusting of freckles on her skin.

She tightened her grip on him, knees pressing into his sides urgently. He looked up at her, locking onto her brown eyes. Her lashes fluttered gently, and her eyes fell closed. Carefully, gently, he took her nipple into his mouth, softly licking the tip of it with the flat of his tongue. The hard metal jewelry clicked against his teeth, and he tugged at it ever so slightly.

Emma moaned, loudly, breath quickening. Encouraged by the sound, his hand softly stroked the bare skin of her other breast. Jonathan was coming undone, and he needed to feel more of her. His own desire was a white hot flash burning through him, filling him with need. He pulled her bra up over her head, and the sight of her naked torso spread all across his desk gave him pause. She really was perfect, and he couldn’t believe he was touching her like this, making her feel things she maybe hadn’t had the chance to feel before.

He continued for a few minutes, sucking gently on her nipple at first, then gradually harder. He relished the textural contrast between her velvety skin and the smooth, hard jewelry. He slid his hands under her back, tracing them up and down, feeling every contour and curve. At this point, she was no longer silent. Every sound that escaped her went straight through him, eating away at whatever shred of his restraint might have remained.

When her hips started to jerk up, pressing into him involuntarily, he moved his hands down to the waistband of her jeans. He asked, “Emma. Do you want me to take these off?”

She sat up, and his hands stilled. Gently, he grasped her shoulders, bending down so he matched her eye level.

He tried to slow his breathing as he waited for her to respond. After a beat she said, “I don’t know if we should.”

Immediately, he pulled back. “Of course, you’re right. Here, let me-”

She cut him off. “But also, it’s my senior year.”

Slightly dumbfounded, Jonathan just looked at her. A small, earnest smile was creeping its way onto her face.

Her gaze darted down to the zipper area of his pants, then back up to meet his eyes. Jonathan found himself feeling a bit exposed, which did nothing to remedy the situation that had caught her eye.

Emma spoke again. “I feel like…I’ve had a lot of fun getting to know you this semester, Jonathan. I think you’re a cool person. You’re really good at your job, you’re smart, you’ve been looking out for me. I guess, you know, whatever happens next, I still just want to keep having fun getting to know you.”

She was complimenting him. Genuinely complimenting him while she was sitting on his desk with no top on. His brain felt like it was going to explode.

After a pause, she took a breath and continued. “I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything. Like for real, nobody is going to find out about this. If you’d rather stop that’s ok too but to be honest, I’m having fun.” She let out a laugh. “Jonathan, you have to know, you’re the hot professor. I feel kinda dumb saying this, but everyone says it. You - you’re gorgeous. During our first meeting in this office I felt like I couldn’t even look at you because you’re so…you know. And now I’m back here again and-” She laughed again, and he found himself smiling too. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Jonathan was at a loss for words. Finally, he gathered his thoughts enough to say, “Thank you. For the compliments, I mean. I really appreciate everything you said. And Emma, you have to know too, you’re beautiful. Everything about you-” He stopped and leaned forwards, placing his hands on her waist. She looked up at him, head tilted to the side.

“Do you remember that morning when I helped you with your optimization lab?” Her eyes widened, and she nodded. He continued, “After you left the room, I thought to myself-” He hesitated. Was it a good idea to tell her?

Her brown eyes were so lucid, and he decided he didn’t care if it was a good idea or not. He wanted her to know how much she turned him on.

Her inner thighs were pressing against him. He cupped a hand around the back of her head, lacing his fingers into her hair. Her breathing hitched. He said, “I thought to myself that I should have put my hands up your shirt and pulled you down onto my lap.”

While tugging slightly on her hair, he traced his other hand up until his it brushed over her pierced nipple. A small sound escaped her throat, and she shuddered. Back and forth, he delicately smoothed his thumb over the tight bud until a pink flush was blooming across her chest and neck. After pressing a kiss to her jaw, he said, “I’ve been thinking about you ever since. Every time we had lecture, every time we had a meeting, I was picturing you like this.” He took in the sight of her, brown hair cascading over her shoulders, the perfect line of her spine, the slight protruding curve of her exposed lower belly, and he felt his heartbeat pick up again.

She reached out a hand and grasped the front of his shirt. All she said was, “Take this off.”

And at that, the next several minutes were lost to a haze of flurried movement and agonizing sensation. His shirt disappeared, flung to some random spot on the floor. Her hands haphazardly explored his skin, and he was hyperaware of the way her nails dragged lightly against him. Her breasts pressed into him as he drew her close, and the warmth between her legs surrounded him deliciously. His pants were starting to feel like a lid screwed too tightly onto a jar.

He moved his hands to the top button of her jeans, and paused to look into her eyes. She nodded at him, chest rising and falling in a rapid rhythm.

He unbuttoned and unzipped, then hooked his fingers into the waistband and tugged them down. She rocked her hips so he could get them off, and then Emma was sitting on his desk in nothing but a pair of blue cotton panties.

She started to lie back on the desk, but he braced a hand against her back to stop her. “Sit. I want to see your face when I put my fingers inside of you.”

Her mouth dropped open slightly, and a blush rose into her cheeks. Jonathan couldn’t believe how turned on he was. He wanted to wind Emma up until she was tight like a coiled spring.

He pressed the palm of his hand between her legs, closing his eyes as he felt the damp heat through the thin fabric.

For a second, he rested there, before saying, “Emma, if you want me to stop, tell me now.”

Immediately she shook her head.

“You want me to keep going?”

She nodded.

“Say yes.”

In a slightly choked voice, she said, “Yes.”

He pushed the fabric of her underwear to the side with his fingers. Her smooth folds were slick already. Slowly, deliberately, he pressed a finger into her warm depths.

She moaned, and clutched at his arm. Encouraged, he slid his finger out almost all the way, then pressed it back in, repeating the motion methodically. As he did so, He watched Emma's eyebrows furrowing, her lips parting and wrapping around broken, uncontrolled sounds, her hips rocking forward to meet his thrusts.

When he felt her relax around him, he pressed another finger inside her. He lightly drew his thumb across her clit, and her muscles clenched.

“Ah! Jonathan-”

He bent forward to press kisses into her neck. “Yes?”

Her breathing was ragged. “Jonathan, you-you feel-”

He pressed the flat of his tongue onto her nipple, dragging wetness across her skin. He sucked on it before pulling away to say, “What? What do I feel like?”

Her hips rocked forwards, as if of their own accord. He flexed his fingers inside her, reaching for the spot in her lower belly that he knew would drive her crazy.

She gasped, and he felt her tighten around him, drawing him in. “Oh my god, Jonathan. What-? how did you-? nngh-”

He flexed his fingers again, marveling at how sensitive she was, how she responded so willingly to his touch. “Tell me how you feel, ” he said hoarsely.

“Your hand. I can’t-I feel like-ah!” Her sentence was cut short as he started drawing gentle, tight circles around her clit with his thumb. With a little more force than before, he thrust his fingers into her again.

“Emma? I didn’t quite catch that.” She opened her eyes to look at him, and he saw a glow in her dark eyes that would be seared into his brain for quite some time.

“You’re- you’re teasing me. You feel like-” She breathed in sharply as he sank his fingers into her once more.

He grinned, and said, “Well, if you won’t tell me what I feel like, I’ll tell you what you feel like.” He was in a rhythm now, steadily moving in and out of her, relishing the friction between the pads of his fingers against her walls. “You’re so, so warm. And wet, and I can feel how tight you are.” The only response he got was her breathing, the sound of her starting to lose control.

With his arm, he pulled her closer to the edge of the desk so he could sink his fingers into her even deeper.

“Agh! Ah, nngh-” Her voice was strained beyond the formation of clear words.

Gently, he pressed his thumb to her swollen clit. He felt her clench inside of him, and he knew she was close to coming undone.

Suddenly, Emma reached down and grabbed his wrist, stopping the motion of his hand. After taking a moment to steady her breathing, she said, “Wait a second. Wait- I don’t-I don’t want to come yet.”

Jonathan, with his fingers still inside her, pressed a kiss directly onto her pierced nipple. “No?”

“Oh-Jonathan, hang on. Do you have condoms in your office?”

He looked at her. Matter of factly, he said, “Yeah, I do. In my bag.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, urgently. Her curls were starting to frizz up, and her skin shone under the fluorescent lights. She squeezed his wrist, and said, “Do you think-do you think we could use one?”

It was all Jonathan could do not to moan out loud as a wave of lust crashed into him. As if aware of the possibility of release, his dick became almost unbearably hard against the stiff zipper of his pants.

Gently, he withdrew his fingers from inside Emma’s body, watching as her eyelids fluttered closed and her lips parted at the sensation. He looked into her eyes and said, “Yes. Anything you want.”

She smiled, and for a moment that was all Jonathan could see. He reached for his bag under the desk, and rummaged around in the innermost pocket.

He pulled out a foil wrapped square, then said, “Do you want to do it? Or should I?”

Almost primly, Emma crossed her legs at the ankle. “I want you to do it.”

Jonathan’s head felt like it was full of electric current, waves of energy humming and building up in a dizzying way. A whole semester of restraint, and it was all coming down to this.

He unbuttoned the waistband of his pants, pulled down the zipper. The faint sound of the teeth separating was drowned out by the blood rushing through his ears. He pulled his pants down just past his hips.

His boxer briefs provided only scant separation between him and Emma now. He paused, and saw that Emma was looking directly at the outline of his dick against the tight fabric.

He stepped close to her, closing the space between them. Sometimes, he had lamented the fact that his desk was a bit too high, even for a tall man like himself.

But in this moment, when he saw how their hips aligned perfectly, he was glad he’d never asked to switch it out.

She looked up into his eyes, chin tilting up to reveal the satin skin of her neck. As he bent down to kiss her throat, he pulled her forwards so that her legs splayed on either side of him, and their hips pressed together tightly.

As soon as her wet, warm center met his cock, every coherent thought he may have had evaporated from his mind. Even through two layers of fabric, the feeling of her against him had him harder than he had been in a long, long time. Having her fully pressed against him, flush against his body, was better than anything he had imagined. His eyes closed, and he let out a groan.

Emma placed a hand on his chest, and used the other one to brace herself on the desk. Without warning, she rolled her hips forward.

Jonathan suppressed a moan. “Emma-you can’t-”

She rocked her hips into him again. “Why not?”

The friction increased the pressure in his lower stomach to a boiling point, and he was struggling to control his breathing.

He growled, low and deep in his throat and placed his hands on the soft curves of her pelvis right where the edge of her panties were. His thumbs pressed soft divots into her skin, and he said, “Do you want me to open the condom or not?”

She was leaning into him; his torso was the only thing keeping her from falling off the edge of the desk. Her skin was so soft and smooth against his, her curves felt exquisite under his hands.

“Open it, Jonathan. I’m not doing anything to stop you.” The huskiness in her voice was hot and velvety in his ears.

He picked the condom up off the desk, tore it open, and hastily discarded the wrapper. He pulled down the waistband of his underwear, finally freeing his erection from the close-fitting fabric. Carefully, he rolled the condom on, trying not to let the sensation of his own fingers push him closer to the edge.

When it was properly in place, he nestled himself back in between her legs. With one hand, he pushed her underwear to the side, dipping his fingers into her once more. She moaned out loud, and he said, “Are you ready?”

She leaned forwards into him, and said, “Yes. Do it.”

He couldn’t believe that Emma, his ever reliable and diligent TA, was now almost naked sitting on his desk, legs splayed apart, looking at him with an almost feral expression, ready to take him inside. He was never going to be able to look at her again without imagining this in agonizing detail.

He placed a hand at the base of his cock and slowly guided it towards her entrance. The head met her folds, and he pushed forwards into her carefully.

She was so, so warm, and wet, and soft and pliable all at once. He groaned and said, "Emma, you're unbelievable. I can't believe how tight you feel." He pressed into her halfway, and then withdrew.

Her face had an indescribable expression on it, she looked like she was atmospheres away from the reality of where she was.

“Do you want the whole thing?” Jonathan needed to hear her say it.

“Yes. All of it. Put the whole thing inside me.” She was almost panting as the words fell out of her, eyes half lidded in bliss.

Jonathan didn’t hold back, he couldn’t. He thrust himself into her, until he was buried inside all the way.

“Oh my god. Jonathan-”

He pulled out, and thrust into her again. Already, the pressure inside him was building to a dangerous level. Having her wrapped around him was a feeling more delectable than anything he could remember.

“Your voice sounds so pretty when you say my name, Emma.”

He placed his hands under her ass, so he could lift her off the desk slightly. The change in angle sent him in even deeper. Trying to maintain control, he entered her with a slow, methodical rhythm, making sure he was hitting the most tender spot rooted deep inside her, where he knew the pressure of his cock filling her would send shockwaves through her system.

With each thrust, he could feel her response deep within her body. Each gasp, each breath that escaped her went straight from his ears to the pool of heat coiling up low in his hips.

“Jonathan, this feels amazing. I can’t even-I feel like I’m on another planet.”

Despite everything, Jonathan laughed. He couldn’t string together a response, but he was charmed by her candidness.

The slickness inside her was destabilizing; it was taking everything Jonathan had to stay in control. He felt himself teetering on a precipice, but he knew Emma wasn’t quite there yet.

He stilled momentarily to gather himself, knowing that if he kept going he wasn’t going to be able to last. While buried inside her, he leaned down and spoke into her ear, lips brushing against her skin. “Will you come for me, Emma? Can you do that?”

She arched her back in response, tilting him deeper into her. She turned her head, nose brushing his cheek. Breathily, she said, “I-I want to. Yes.”

He put his hands on her lower back, hugging her close. She was rocking her hips into his every thrust, and he could feel how much he filled her up, how her innermost muscles caressed and squeezed him from all sides.

When Jonathan felt like he couldn’t possibly inch himself closer to the edge, her hands came up to clutch at his chest. With her head thrown back, she took in a sharp breath. Urgently, she said, “Jonathan, I’m gonna-I’m gonna come. Don’t stop. Jonathan-nnngh. Oh!”

Feeling his own release building, he pressed into her insistently, feeling her warm walls surrounding him tightly with each thrust.

The weight of her body resting on his hips, the sheen of sweat on her skin, the uncontrolled sounds coming out of her mouth, her inner thighs squeezing him, it became too much all at once.

Months worth of tension, of sleepless nights and afternoons spent alone in his office, of listening to Emma’s bright laughter and looking at her soft smile burst forth as Jonathan came, hard. As his release rippled through him, he felt the muscles in her core clenching down on him forcefully, with abandon. Her body rolled and arched against him, and the pressure and warmth enveloping every inch of him shattered his inhibition. He groaned at the intensity of the uncontained raw energy that crackled through every nerve ending on his body.

Once all the waves had flowed away and calmed, he pulled out of her. At a loss for words, he just stared at her face as she stared at his.

Finally, after a protracted silence, she said, “That was crazy.”

Jonathan nodded. He felt like crazy was probably an understatement when it came to describing whatever the hell had just happened.

Gently, he grasped both of her hands in his. “Are you ok?”

She grinned at him. “Yeah. Yeah I’m great.” Leaning forward, she rested her forehead on his chest. “Thanks for being such a good professor. And thanks for…this.”

He nodded, unsure of exactly what to say. He reached behind her to trace small circles on her back with his fingers.

After he felt fully grounded in reality again, he stepped back. The fluorescent lights were harsh, draining his surroundings of color, and the breeze from the air conditioning in his office felt slightly grating against his skin. Gently, he said, “It’s getting late, Emma. You should probably get going.”

He picked up her jeans from where they had landed on the ground, and handed them to her.

Wordlessly, the two of them got dressed, covering up all the parts of themselves that had been so close only a few minutes before.

Once they were both put back together, Emma slung her backpack onto one shoulder and moved towards the door of his office. She hovered there for a second, and then said, “Have a good break, Jonathan. See you next semester?”

He nodded. “See you next semester.”

She smiled softly, one corner of her mouth curving up more than the other. As she gripped the door handle, Jonathan said, “Emma?”

She turned to face him. “Yeah?”

“Get home safe. “

For a second, she just looked at him. Then, quietly, she said, “I will.”

She walked into the dark hallway, and the door fell closed behind her.

Jonathan was alone in his office once more.

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New Message

To: [email protected] Cc Bcc

Subject: Next Semester

Emma,

Due to personal reasons, I have made the decision to choose a different person to TA for DATA1450 next semester. Please do not take this as an indication of any shortcomings regarding your character or performance. You were an excellent TA and a joy to interact with during lecture and meetings. I am more than happy to be a reference should you need a professional recommendation for other job opportunities on or off campus.

I wish you the best during your final semester. If you need anything please don’t hesitate to email or Slack me, and my office door is always open if you would like to meet in person.

Have a great rest of your break, a happy holiday season, and a happy new year.

Keep in touch,

Jonathan Holbrook, Ph.D

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