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pupvivi · 2 years

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Jungeun felt foolish. But he couldn't take his mind off what was bothering him, even with Jane ass up, face down before him. His thrusts slowed until he was just resting inside of her. He caught his breath and just took in the sight.

He already pays for regular sex from her, and the worst thing she can say is no. So swallowing his nerves, he opened his mouth.

"I need a favor." He started.

"I already told you anal costs extra and you'd have to supply everything to get me nice and clean." Jane rolled her eyes. She didn't know why Jungeun was now actively cockwarming her, but if he didn't get to the point soon, she would push him over and chase her own pleasure.

Not that he would dislike that.

"That's not," Haseul didn't have to look to know that Jungeun was blushing. "Anyway. I need a favor. A non-sexual? kind of favor."

Haseul allowed herself to pull back and roll on to her side. She needed to look at Jungeun to see if just where he was going with this.

"I'm getting promoted soon, and I'll probably have to say some things about my company, and well...I need a plus one and I was hoping you'd be willing to join me for that night. I'll still pay you and everything, I just need to show off a little bit."

Jungeun looked so embarrassed by his request. He couldn't even look down at Jane who was at this point gaping up at him. A snort escaped, before she could form any words. "Oh my god."

Jungeun covered his face in shame. The fact that he was asking Jane this was too embarrassing. He wouldn't be surprised if this was the last time he'd see her.

The bed shifted, and his hands are pulled away from his face. He could smell that perfume that Jane always wore when she came over, and his hands were guided back to her body. "Tell you what. You finish what we were doing here, and I'll think about your favor, okay? When would this be happening anyway?" She was trying to shift the mood back to how it was, and the way she felt Jungeun's cock twitch against her stomach told her it was much appreciated.

"This Friday." He groaned at the bite to his neck. Jungeun was really pushing his luck with Jane. But she did say to continue, so that's what he was going to do. "I can get you a nice dress too, it'll match my suit."

The idea of a week dressed Jungeun did excite Haseul a bit. She's seen him in various work attire. Usually nice slacks and a nice collared shirt. Sometimes a sweater if it's cold. Each and every time, she would enjoy ridding him of each article of clothes until he was exposed.

"Mmm, bet you would look nice." She hummed, assisting Jungeun with lining back up and sinking right back into her pussy. Try as she does, her body does flair up when with him. She just knew how to fuck, for someone who can't get a girlfriend that is.

Jungeun shifted them back down on to the bed, Haseul now pressed against the mattress. Cock once again splitting her in half, and Jungeun just admiring the view. His hips finally starting to move, and he ignored the pain of nails digging into his shoulder.

He was given a task and he'd be damned if he didn't finish that.

Friday came faster than the two expected, and Jungeun was now pacing in his room, while Haseul took in his suit. Black pants, accented with a maroon colored dress shirt, it made Jungeun glow, and Haseul took in the sight of his binder, even offering assistance with it when he’d just gotten out of the shower moments prior. It was cute to see him like this, usually she only got to see when Jungeun was horny or in the mood to give instead of receive pleasure.

“Are you always this nervous?” She asked, effectively making him stop pacing and face her. His hair still needed to be styled, but besides that and maybe a touch of make up, he was ready to face this promotion.

“Not when I have to sell this ‘fake girlfriend’ thing. Like what if I say the same thing, or someone asks me something we didn't practice? It’ll look weird and everything will crumble.” Again, he was overthinking everything, and while Haseul would love more than anything to just tease him for being a worrier of the uncertain, she instead decided to be nice about it.

“Come here.” She pat the spot on his bed, urging him to sit down. “If someone asks something about me, I’ll answer it. You don't have to know every detail about me to sell this. We’re going to be fine, okay?” She made sure to cup his cheek, further making sure that her words sank in nicely.

Jungeun nodded, unable to look away. Jane looked so nice in the dress he’d picked out for her. Well, they both picked it out, but he knew upon seeing it, that it would look perfectly on her. It hugged her figure so well, and the heels she picked out, added a few inches, giving Haseul the extra height to look taller than him.

It was hot.

“We should go.” Jungeun cleared his throat. If he allowed his thoughts to wonder, he would probably end up late to his own party. Not that Jane would complain, she liked when he was needy, especially for her.

Besides they had plans of celebrating afterwards anyway.

The placed smelled of high end, finger food that was meant to piss off your stomach with each tease of a single bite of food. Flutes of champagne that tempted Haseul with each passing moment. As well as the smell of expensive perfume of the trophy wives of business men.

But wasn't that the role she was playing tonight? Was she any better than them, pretending to laugh and smile at these people she would never see again?

The hand on the small of her back said otherwise, Jungeun did his best to guide them through the crowd. Shaking hands with those needed, and engaging in brief, yet polite conversation. Haseul only speaking when addressed, and mainly just keeping Jungeun company.

"Still okay?" Jungeun asked into their first hour here. He wasn't going on stage for another half hour. Yet he was concerned with Jane. How sweet. She patted his cheek in an all too familiar way, and took pleasure at the red on his cheeks.

"I'm good, don't worry about me. It's your night." She reminded, before pinching his cheeks.

"You would tell me if you wanted to go, right? Don't feel obligated to please me." He whispered, closer to her ear so that only Jane could hear him. The gesture sent a shiver down her spine, and she hitched her breath, just a little.

Haseul nodded.

Jungeun grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Doing his best to play up the affection, even if it was for tonight. Be would proudly show off Jane to the rest of the world if he has the chance. "Let's do another lap, if these people like anything it's being social."

The two continued to appeal to those around them, just missing a pair of eyes looking at them with a mixture of confusion.

Jungeun's speech went well, and the applause for his promotion was sweet. Haseul stood near the stage, waiting for Jungeun to come down and they would move on to the dinner.

But instead someone bumped into her. "I thought you seemed familiar. Jane, was it?" Haseul tensed. Only a handful of people knew her by that name. Her friends from America, and former clients. She turned to face the man, and of course she was right.

"I believe you have me confused for someone else, sir." Try as she did, he simply quirked an eyebrow at her.

"No, I definitely remember you. Seoul back a few years ago. You still selling yourself? Does he know?" The look in his eyes darked at the thought of spilling the beans to Jungeun, and for once, Haseul was scared. Not for her safety, but the possibility of ruining this night if he decided to open his mouth.

"Sorry I took so long, oh, am I interrupting something?" Jungeun slipped an arm around Haseul. He didn't immediately look at her and she nervously shook her head. "Can I assist you? We're quite hungry."

Jungeun remembered this man, he was a sorry excuse of a man. Always cheating on his wife, but still the remained together. "How is the accounting department? I've been meaning to check up on your team." He steered the direction of the conversation. Making sure no one was paying them any attention.

"Everything goes well. Big quarter sales, you know the good stuff. But I do have a question for you." He leaned in, a too pleased look on his face. "Is she worth the price? Because when I was with her she overcharged."

If Jungeun was surprised at the statement, he hid it well. "I don't understand your question, but I don't like the tone you're using towards me or my girlfriend." His tone was controlled. "I will be contacting HR in regards to this conversation."

The man paled before Jungeun. His bravado shrinking at the thoughts of being punished. "I'm just saying, your girlfriend is a whore. Dump her and save yourself the trouble and risk."

Anger flared up at his words. But instead of lashing out, he simply sighed. "Maybe you shouldn't have drank so much alcohol, you're coming up with these crazy stories. My girlfriend isn't interested in you, and I think it's time you left." Jungeun's voice was enough to draw a few curious eyes.

Haseul watched in awe at how he handled the situation. Those who were paying attention to them would simply see a flustered man trying to goad Jungeun into reacting. "Again, I will be contacting HR. Please don't try and hit in taken women again, it's unbecoming of you and ruins the reputation of our company."

Jungeun once again took Jane's hand giving it a gentle squeeze, more so to ground himself, as he watched the man slink off. If he was smart, he would do to his desk and clear it, as he won't be having a job after the report goes through. Enough high profile people were here and witnessed what just happened.

Once the mood was gone, Haseul pressed herself against Jungeun, hiding her face against his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about. He tried to embarrass you and ruin the night." Anger was still evident in his tone, his body tense against Haseul. But the comfort of his touch was a good start. "He was an idiot for trying to hurt you." Lips pressed against Haseul's cheek.

The rest of the night was uneventful. Jungeun was still smiling, a bit more forced that he would like, but his hand remained in Jane's, up until it was time to leave. His jacket now on her shoulders, as the left the building. The air was colder, and Jungeun's car was still being brought up by the company in charge of parking for the event.

"I'm glad that's over with." Jungeun sighed, pushing hair out of his face. It was getting long again. He looked around before speaking again. "I'll compensate for that asshole. You didn't deserve to have that happen to you."

Haseul couldn't believe her ears. "I won't accept it. Tonight was about you, and my past caught up to me and almost ruined that. The dress and what you paid already was enough." She left no room for argument. The flashing of car lights ended that conversation.

Jungeun assisted her into the car before going to his side and sliding in. The engine roared gently, before they were off.

He tapped nervously on the wheel, uncertain what to say. His mask off for the night, and he didn't know if Jane was upset at him or not. "I didn't mean to overstep."

Jane hummed.

There was a pause. "Would you like me to drop your off somewhere else, you don't have to stay with me tonight."

"Are you always so beaten after being rejected? I said I wouldn't accept the extra money, but didn't say anything about wanting to go home."

Jungeun breathed in sharply through his nose. He wasn't beaten, he just didn't want to assume anything. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but then closed it. They were at a red light, the last one for a while, as he was going to be merging into the highway.

"So you do want to stay?"

Jane threw her hands up. "Yes, and I want you to fuck me when we get back. I think we both need a release after that. Then we're going to talk."

True to her words, they did have sex. If was phenomenal as well. Jungeun hardly needed much work up either, as Jane was about to slip out of her dress with ease, hooded eyes and a beckoning finger was all he needed to follow her back to his room.

His own clothes left behind with each step. Hungry kisses were exchanged, greedy hands grabbing at whatever they could touch. Hips, breast, ass. Everything was free game.

But something still felt off, the way Jane kept her eyes closed. Usually she felt them open, goading Jungeun wordlessly to continue, or offering advice on what would please her the most.

But she left that up for Jungeun, taking whatever was offered to her. Fingers in her mouth that was used to loosen her up, Jungeun bucking against her thigh, in the meantime.

His words of praise when she finally opened up enough to take his cock, he could worship her so night if given the chance, and maybe Haseul would finally let him.

Her orgasm washed over her, surprising Jungeun but not stopping him either. She reached another before he finally bottomed out and finished, both of them panting.

"Can I ask you a favor this time?" Jane asked, her voice smaller than usual. Her cheeks dark, but not from their previous activities. Her hair was fanned out in his pillows, completely surrounded by his scent

"Anything." Jungeun replied, and she knew he meant it.

She pulled him down, until his ear was right next to her mouth. "I want you to call me by my real name, and then fuck me like you mean it."

Jungeun's body shivered at her request. He learned her real name earlier today, and while he said it for introductions, he was still calling her Jane out of pure respect.

But it works seem that professionalism was out the window. Pulling back, he shifted until he was in his knees, pulling Haseul with him. "I-" he seemed conflicted. "I don't think I can do the second half."

Haseul sat up, worried she fucked up royally, until she got a good look at his face. It was as flushed as her own, and the way he was worrying his lip. "Can you tell me why?"

"If I call you by your name I might fall more for you. I don't want to fuck you when you're trusting me with your name."

Haseul knew she made the correct choice trusting him. But now she needed to mold him into the perfect boyfriend. One step at a time. "You're too sweet sometimes, but I guess we'll have to work on that." She opened her arms, letting him lean against her. "I still want you, and the night is young. But I guess we'll just have to talk it out until you're ready."

Jungeun chuckled, having a feeling just what they were going to talk about, and he wasn't nervous. If anything it felt right, all night she caught him staring at him, only to smile when their eyes met. It was mutual and exciting.

"I can feel that you're ready if that helps." Haseul joked, carding fingers thought his hair.

"You literally just told me to fuck you after you came twice, I'm innocent here."

"Really? You're hard and wanna use the word 'innocent'.? You're too much."

"Haseul, please." The words slipped out far easier than imagined, and the tug on his head was dizzying. The kiss been them electrifying.

Maybe they should talk later.

#lipseul #jane post #i know she's long #sex worker!jane #Haseul #kim lip

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pharawee · 2 months

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I get it. Playboyy isn't everyone's cup of tea. Hate watch away, reddit. You do you.

But to actually make fun of the actors' looks? Imagine the outrage if some dudes (happens often enough, I know) went on and on about whether some actress' boobs were fake and how hilarious they look. But it's okay if it's an actor in a sex-positive, queer show, I guess.

Don't even get me started on the extremely bad take that it's totally okay for sex workers to be forced into sex. They have sex all the time anyway so it can't be a "punishment", right?

UGH. What the hell is wrong with people.

#jane watches stuff #playboyy #i should delete this cursed app from my phone #what has reddit touched that it didn't spoil #the bodyshaming is just straight-up mean #no it's not ok to make fun of people's looks just because they're conventionally beautiful #it's still hurtful and damaging #as for the 'it's not SA if it's sex workers' thing? what the fuck

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mxjackparker · 4 months

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From insensitive questions and jokes made towards street sex workers in 1992, to RuPaul asking queens in the latest episode of Drag Race if they have an Onlyfans as a joke (despite not allowing queens who have them on the show) and outright calling one a "whore", it's clear that RuPaul hasn't lost the whorephobic attitude she's always had.

RuPaul's supposed love for sex worker fashion and learning about our experiences is just appropriation and exploitation.

youtube

#rupaul's drag race #rpdr #plane jane #sexwork #feminism #anti swerf #transgender #lgbtq+#trans #sex work is work #sex worker rights #rupaul #drag race #drag queen #whorephobia #Youtube

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pascals-doll · 2 months

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like a virgin

joel miller x reader

🫧 inspired by madonnas like a virgin MY MADONNA CONCERT IS COMING UP I-

🫧 i always make my writings for joel so long but i love this man smm i could write all day for him it dont even b on purpose 😩

🫧 description: pre-outbreak!joel, babysitter!reader, reader babysits sarah, semi-fluff, DILF JOEL DILFFF, age gap (joel is 36 and reader is early 20s), smut smut, SMUT SMUTTT, dom!joel, softdom!joel(ugh i need so bad),sub!reader, hella praise kink, reader and joel are obessesed w each other tbh, secret crushing, body worship (reader reciving/ slight joel), pussy eating, possessive!joel, unprotected sex, p in v sex, hair pulling (j recieving), tommy is a teasing p.o.s 😭, no use of y/n, use of nicknames (sweetheart, darlin, and sweet girl).

you stepped into the miller’s residence weekly to babysit his daughter Sarah, she was the sweetest teen girl. she reminded you a bit of yourself when you were her age which was probably the cause of the instant connection.

you had been baby-sitting for almost 8 months now, leading to getting closer to Joel; Sarah’s dad.

Joel was more than a hunk of a man, he towered over you even with your heeled mary-janes at times, his broad build engulfing all his clothing making him look like a slutty construction worker with his roughed up baggy-blue jeans thats sinched around his waist perfectly.

you would be lying if you wouldn’t oogle the man while his attention was pulled onto something else. you would watch the way he talked so sweetly to Sarah, yet when it came to a phone call, his neighbor, a stranger or his brother, Tommy that would occasionally stop by.

Joel would have this assertive and unruly tone underneath that thick southern accent. he was a man that paid close attention in his life which is why he has allowed you to take care of his daughter with so much trust.

you would never know it but Joel cherished you and the things you do.

Joel would show it in very discreet ways, today was a prime a example.

“m’havin a famiy cookout later t’night, why don’t you head on home to rest, so you can come back to enjoy with us.” Joel invitied you with ease as you began to grab your belongings from his coat-rack near his front door.

you grabbed your purse, walking towards the sound of his voice which was right around the corner. Joel was standing in his wide living room.

“it would be more than my pleasure. thank you for everything again. im always very appreciative for sarah and you” you thanked him sweetly, eyes meeting his.

he stood next to his large bookcase that had an assortment of different books, personal objects, some cds/dvds, and his vinyls.

joel picked up a vinyl, sliding out of the slot in the shelving of his bookcase, pulling it out of the envelope, and placing it on the record player.

yet another instance, where you accidentally ogle him.

“the real thank you should be t’ya. im adjustin’ to single parentin’ and ya’ been very accommodatin’, thank you.”

your kind demeanor was the sweetner to his coffee.

you were now home, getting dressed to return to the Miller’s residence.

usually when you’re babysitting, you dressed lazily. you would put on a random shirt and jeans or sweats.

you wanted to cleanup a bit more, knowing it wasnt just going to be you and sarah most of the day; Joel would be there.

you threw on this cute blue floral sundress that was mid-length, it stopped right below your cross necklace.

you finished up by pairing it with white frilly socks with mid-heeled black flats.

you didn’t put much makeup on, only putting the basics before doing any last touch-ups and grabbing your black mini-purse.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

once you arrived, opening the gate and greeting a few of the people that were sitting on the porch before entering through the front door.

the sound of chatter got louder as you walked through his home. you turned around to the corner and his living room was empty but his kitchen was cluttered with different food and grill necessities.

you thought to yourself how they must be outside, you began to walk farther into his home till the back where the sliding door to his backyard was.

you began to slide the door open “oh my!! you came!” sarah squealed out of excitement, she came from restroom door next to the side of his sliding door.

you immediately engulfed the excited girl that ran into your arms “i wouldn’t miss it for the world, girl!” you exclaim while smiling.

“c’mon! my dad is outside grilling!” sarah spoke excitedly. she grabbed your hand as you opened the door and walked outside together.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

“d’ya invite that sweet babysitter of yours?” Tommy asks joel while seasoning the steak “i did, i hope she comes-you know, for sarah and all” Joel tries to play off with his words.

“oh my brother fancy’s someone, i see” Tommy chuckles out, putting his beer bottle up in the air slightly.

“i do not fuckin’fancy that young lady. she’s gone above and beyond for my daughter and i just wanted her to feel welcome” Joel explains himself, his tone laced with angry yet getting his explaination a across a bit hastily. Tommy’s eyebrow quirks.

“don’t say nothin’ else” Joel utters out in a stern tone, grabbing his cold corona as Tommy puts his hands up in defence.

Tommy turned his head, not the best decision as it made his amusement grow fonder. he turns back to Joel.

“well, ya’look at that brother” Tommy slys out, throwing a wink at his older brother before making his way back to his wife Maria.

It was you and sarah approaching, Joel actually choked on his sip of beer.

you were beautiful, Joel wasn’t an oblivious man.

Joel, himself even thought it was impressive how easily you cleaned yourself up by just some jeans and sweatshirt; at times just a shirt.

tonight was different, very different.

Joel finally has seen you outside of your different hoodies and pants.

he couldn’t begin to comprehend as you and sarah got closer and closer “Dad! she made it” sarah calls him out in excitement.

you finally approached him next to his griller which caused him to immediately snap out of his gaze.

Joel gave you his hand to shake “thank you so much for having me” you thank him, sweetly accepting as you began to shake pulling you in for a soft side hug.

you were right beside him, feeling the heat of the fire from the grill on both of you.

in Joel’s eyes, up close, your beauty was now beyond otherworldly. your light blue sundress bringing out the color of your eyes, the way your hair fell on your shoulders, and your jewlery sparkiling the tone of your skin.

you looked so elegant, yet you still managed to keep it simple. your winged liner making you look more mature than just the light mascara you would rush onto your lashes before getting out of your car on babysitting days.

Joel couldn’t begin to wrap it around his mind how you could possibly look so pure yet you were a woman. a hard-working one at that.

he knew that. it was something that made him desire you which felt so wrong.

“anytime, ya deserve to be apart of the family-shit! ya’already are” Joel goes off a bit nervously after ogling you. you gave him a soft smile.

“did’ya need help with the grill?” you quickly perk in as the fire began to sizzle a tad bit louder than usual “ah shit!” Joel exclaims, flipping each of the steak.

“careful now, brother! dont burn ‘em!” Tommy calls out, laughing with a devious smirk as he approaches again with cooler in hand.

Joel grumbled something under his under his breath as he focused on the grill.

“nice to meet you, i’ve heard s’much about you! I’m Joel’s brother, Tommy.” the younger brother introduces himself.

you give him your hand to shake “It is nice to meet the uncle tommy” you joke out causing sarah to giggle with you.

Joel couldn’t begin to explain the beauty you carried within you.

he was sure that if a god made you, it was Hestia and Aphrodite.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

the evening was pleasantly spent by you getting to meet maria and her pregnant belly, congratulating her.

then once it was time to serve the dinner, you helped Joel and Tommy by moving the grilled food off of the grill.

this consisted of Tommy making jokes that had slight insinuating under-tones that you were too naive to pick up but laugh everytime Joel would punch Tommy’s shoulder roughly, not being playful at all.

you helped bring in the food as sarah set up the dining table. once everything was set up and everyone sat down to eat, Joel’s grilling being beyond splendid.

when dinner was over while everyone cleaned up, you went to use the restroom.

you finished using up the restroom which is how you were now in Joel’s living room.

you began to admire his large bookcase from where he stood earlier to invite you.

you skimmed through, your hands softly going over the objects as you observed his books, framed pictures, his collection of dvds, and then his vinyls.

you had a record player of your own, sometimes sarah would ask you to play bon jovi and tell you where the record was.

Joel had an impressive collection, ranging to every genre of music. he had some legends on vinyls like Bob Marley, Johnny Cash, Lionel Richie, and Madonna.

you immediately picked up the Madonna vinyl, it was her second album ‘Like a Virgin’.

you grew up with your mom adoring Madonna more than anything which explains your adoration for her music.

“I was in highschool when i first heard Madonna” a deep voice spoke through the room, behind you.

you automatically knew it was Joel, turning around still looking at the tracklist on the back of his vinyl “this is my favorite album besides Like a Prayer” you say as you walk up to him, smiling.

“you weren’t even born yet” Joel laughs out causing you to jokingly get offended.

“excuse me, i know my Madonna” you joke back, giving him a playful wink which he just gave you a slight chuckle too.

“she say she know she Madonna, ay?” he gives you a slight smile, opening up his record player before inserting the vinyl.

soon enough the record player began to ring a classic 80s pop beat through the room.

you automatically felt yourself slightly popping your leg with the beat and snapling your fingers slightly.

“go ahead, Mr.80s” you state smiling, inviting him to dance “oh no, i-don’t dance” Joel quirks out awkwardly, now standing nervous.

Joel admired your confidence and comfortabilty in your skin, you were so young and full of life while also being so sophisticated and methodical.

you grab Joels hands and began to playfully sway with him.

Oh, like a virgin

Touched for the very first time

Like a virgin

When your heart beats next to mine

🫧

you sang the melodious lyrics under your breath. you felt your breath hitch as you locked eyes with joel, being in his grasp.

you could feel your body burn up in his strong hold, his heavy hand on the small of your waist.

your breath hitched causing your chest to push up against his chest. this felt so right, the way his hands held your body and each of your curves.

🫧

You're so fine, and you're mine

Make me strong, yeah, you make me bold

Oh, your love thawed out

Yeah, your love thawed out

What was scared and cold

Joel made you feel more than a woman, you were so polish and refined, yet so sophisticated and mature while all-looking ever so young and full of life.

he felt a bit of confidence which made him twirl you around, engulfing you into his embrace again with one arm; your back to his chest now.

you swore the sound of the song was slowly drowning out and now the sexual tension was ringing through the both of you.

you could feel his heartbeat thump against your back as his hands rubbed both sides of your waist to the rythem of your delicate sways.

you leaned your head back against his chest, his scent being the only thing on your mind.

you felt him begin to caress your hair with one hand as it left your waist.

“you’re s’beautiful, hope y’know that” Joel could blame it on his 5 beers but 5 beers wasn’t shit for Joel, he was very conscious of his choices.

the compliment sent shivers down your spine as you swore your knees grew limp momentarily.

you turned around, your thigh now inbetween one of his legs, chests pressed against each other, his hands gripping your hips now, and faces inches away from each other.

your lips were parted, you really were debating on kissing the beautiful hunk of a dad infront of you.

fuck it

just like that, within no time your lips were moving like you both had never kissed anyone before.

the song continuing to play as the both of you makeout in his living room while everyone was outside.

the way his hands ran through all of your body like he had never touched anyone, your lips pulling away to catch your breathe momentarily like you had never been kissed like that before.

Joel completely ravished you.

hell…now that he had you, he wasn’t gonna let go now.

“m’room darlin’” he mutters against your lips, before completely scooping you up bridal style. it caught you slightly off guard, gasping which made Joel smack your ass playfully.

“oh, aren’t you a gentleman?” you joke, your arms were wrapped around his neck.

“oh, don’t’cha worry sweetheart” Joel smirks out as you arrived to his room.

he laid you on his bed, going down with you while on top of you. he began to move his lips from kissing you to your neck, pulling down the small straps that held your dress.

each kiss that Joel placed on your body felt like a burning sensation, making your insides erupt with giddiness.

you felt like this was your first time all over again. your mind was racing, heart was nervous, and body was clamy.

and it was all because of Joel.

you weren’t sexually active at all recently, you were so busy with work, about to graduate with your masters, and even babysitting sarah; spending more time at the Millers than on dates.

you did go out but lord were the guys of this generation a bunch of sluts.

“what’s on your mind? am i doin’ somethin’ wrong?” Joel’s rushes out accidentally, not wanting to sound nervous but he did.

you weren’t only one feeling like a bad teenager doing this for the first time.

Joel smelled your perfume and that was all it took to get his mind racing. he couldn’t begin to fathom how he finally got to have you.

the way his big frame craddled yours sent him into overdrive, his heart going a million miles per minute as he tries to figure out where to even begin.

for you, it might’ve been a year but for him, it was almost like ages with the years he’s gone.

all Joel’s mind could do was think of all the things he could do to you.

“Joel-hmph” you couldnt help but whine out as his hands massaged closer and closer to your arousal.

“there there sweet girl, you ever been with a man?” Joel asks, lifting your dress up, exposing your angelic white panties.

Joel was damned forsure for the filthy thoughts you provoked out of him.

“n-no, i have never—they were idiots.” you felt so small under him, feeling overwhelmed like it was your first time all again.

at this point, you could’ve considered yourself a virgin with how Joel had you and how much of a man he was.

“you ain’t gon’go lookin’ f’someone to take care of that pretty lil’mind, not after im done with’ya.” Joel claims to you.

you believe every single word laced in his southern accent; making your cunt pulsate wantingly.

“is that what you want to do, Joel? take care of me?” you ask him, lifting your leg to spread yourself open more as you wrap it around his lower waist; basically resting on his thick thigh.

the way you looked at him through your lashes, batting them softly. it was a genuine question, laced with purity and hope.

“if you’ll allow me too-” Joel began, pulling down your panties. you expected him to unbuckle his belt next but no; he got on his knees.

your chest weighed up and down heavily, each of his touch making your body hot.

“it’s my only wish for taking care of me and sarah” Joel finishes before hooking both of your legs up onto his shoulders, his tongue wasting no time.

you didn’t even get a chance to respond, a moan erupting out of you being the only thing.

the way he ate your pussy like he didn’t just eat a whole meal downstairs had your back already arching.

Joel’s tongue swiped along all of your cunt, fucking your sweethole “jesus, ya’taste fuckin’ delicious” Joel mumbles against your pussy as his tongue quickens all along your juiced cunt.

“ahmph!” your shriek sounding like music to his ears, if he didnt have his family downstairs, he’d have you screaming.

“quiet fa’me, doll” he says, taking a hand to cover your mouth as before diving back in.

joel’s tongue fucks into your hole this time causing you to let out a muffled moan against his big hand.

the way that man was eating your pussy, tainting your pussy with his spit, marking it all as his drove you insane. there wasnt nothing this man couldn’t do.

“god! j-joel!” you muffle out, your hands go to his roughed up brown hair, pulling on it causing him to groan into your dripping pussy.

you felt yourself getting closer and closer, your pussyhole squeezing around the tip of his tongue.

“this pussy s’perfect- s’all fuckin’ mine.” Joel spits out once he pulled away from your pussy, denying you of your orgasm.

your mouth was agape in pleasure but then quickly falling into a pout “don’t worry darlin’, my baby will cum…on my dick” Joel’s voice is sweet like honey now as he leaned down to connect your lips together.

you taste yourself on his lips, mixture of his spit along his lips causing you to moan at the mix of both of your filth fogging your mind.

the way both of your lips moved in sync perfectly was beyond intoxicating for joel. he swore he could get addicted to just at the look of you but at this point, both of your lips had him drunk.

he had shimmied and kicked off his pants while making-out with you. he was completely taking over you once again, your body turning small under his big one.

“are you ready, sweetheart?” joel asks delicately, pulling away from your lips to look at your eyes.

you told him yes, leaning up to take his shirt off which he happily obliged.

you had only seen his toned arms but it was obvious he had a strong build. he might’ve not had a six-pack but lord were his muscles chiseled like a greek god.

“you gon’ drool over an old man?” joel utters out, his hand going in to caress your hair.

“oh baby, you’re beyond fine wine.” you whisper. your forehead’s connected, lips away from kissing, and looking him deep in his chocolate eyes.

Joel could feel his breath hitch at what you said, you already had him wrapped around your finger as he worshipped you.

Joel thrusted himself into you, he couldn’t even fucking believe how tight you were.

“jesus- god, this pussy s-ah fuck!” joel’s groan was almost animalistic as your mouth fell as if you wanted to scream but nothing came out.

Joel’s cock was a size you’ve never had before, it didnt hurt but oh, did it stretch.

“s’big-oh my!” you moan out loudly, eyes rolling back at the feeling of him delectably stretching your pussy out.

“you got it baby, you got it” he praises you although he was too busy trying not too pass-out because of your cunt.

after a small moment of adjusting for the both of you, he began to thrust into you at a slow pace.

you arch into him as your whimpers and soft moans turn slowly work their way up to louder and heavier moans.

joel worked himself into you, his mind not being able to get enough of all of you. he still had to process that he really had a young beautiful woman with the heart of a home in his bed.

joel completely held your body with one hand, eventually putting a hand over your mouth again once his sweet thrusts turned into pounds.

your body shaking against his with each of his rough and hard thrusts, fucking your name out of your mind and replacing it wirh his.

your muffled little cries of his name “Joel! joel-ah! j-j! j-joel!” sounding like a sweet lullaby to him. he couldn’t help but smirk at your teary eyed-self.

you werent even worried about ruining that pretty liner of yours as he fucked into you.

“shh my baby, you’re taking me so well” joel coos out, caressing you hair before leaning down to plant kisses and suck on your chest.

your hands grip his bed sheets as your body begins to shake in pure sensual bliss that joel brought you, making your mind fog up as the build up of your orgasm is almost virginal.

“ya’look so beautiful like this-” praises left joel’s lips left and right, loving and indulging in every single one of his praises as he fucked you to your orgasm so sickeningly good; leaving the both of you intoxicated.

“you was made fa’me, not no one else.” Joel’s eyes were shut now, completely lost in the pleasure you were giving him.

it was almost like a prayer, a hopeful chant, almost a possessive plead.

joel had wanted you just as much as you wanted him “yes! god yes! m’close! it’s y-yours! all yours!” your pleasure-filled babbles as your mind gets drunk of joels cock and overwhelming orgasm.

“let go, darlin’ ” Joel works you through your orgasm, hips going from pistoling into you to the delicate pace he started off with.

your entire body shook as both of your sweaty hot bodies embraced each other through both of your orgasms.

the room filled with heavy pants and moans as his hand left your mouth and began to massage your hair.

you both held each other, not wanting to let go of each other.

“i understand what madonna meant by ‘like a virgin’ now” you giggle out causing a playfully scoff to come from him.

“alright alright, we need t’get dressed and head back down. would ya’ want to stop by tomorrow after i drop sarah off at school?” joel asks, his chocolate eyes now ridden of lust and replaced with soft hope.

you were about to tell him yes but another voice spoke before you.

“are you fucking done?! fuck! i can’t keep stalling Sarah and Maria!” it was Tommy.

2K notes · View notes

stylesloveclub · 7 months

Text

Prose (part 1)

In which y/n's taking way too many units, and Harry's the graduate assistant for her Literature class.

+++

It’s a gloomy autumn day, the sun nowhere to be found, the sky cloudy and gray. Y/n stands in front of Dr. Richmond’s door, nervously pulling back her hair and righting the state of her sweater.

The wind outside was not forgiving today, blowing harsh and cold and whipping her hair all over like she was caught in the middle of a god damn tornado. She tucks any stray pieces behind her ears and pats her wind-stung cheeks – oh gosh, she probably looks a mess.

She should’ve worn something more professional, she thinks to herself as she tugs her skirt down. Maybe trousers and a blazer– or at least a pair of jeans. Not this stupid little black skirt that keeps riding up, halfway hidden underneath her cream-colored knitted sweater. It keeps riding up, no matter how firmly she keeps tugging it down, and she’s got a horrible inkling that she might’ve accidentally flashed her bum at the workers in the street while she was walking to campus today.

She looks down at her shoes, a pair of black mary janes, paired with some lacy white socks to decorate her ankles. They looked super cute when she put them on this morning – but now she’s worried that she looks like a kindergartener. Is she too old to be wearing frilly socks? They’re just so darn cute… but she doubts the sixty-something year old professor that’s on the other side of the door would think the same thing.

Wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt, she takes a deep breath. It’s now or never. She lifts her hand up to the door, and nervously brings her knuckles down to knock.

It took all of her confidence to come to Dr. Richmond’s office today. She’s not a huge fan of talking to professors outside of class – drafting emails to them literally sends her into a spiral of stress, and she always feels like she’s gonna shit her pants when she goes to office hours– but she has no choice but to come and directly talk to Dr. Richmond today. She’d sent him two emails already (both of them had taken her over two hours to send because she actually despises writing emails and is always nervous that she’s gonna make a typo, or call the professor the wrong name, or accidentally attach her sex tape ((even though she doesn’t have a sex tape?)), but he hadn’t responded to either of those emails and she needs a response from him ASAP.

The door opens before her knuckles even make contact with wood, a short stout man walking out of the office with his briefcase in hand. He’s balding, with only a thin circle of gray hair lining the back perimeter of his head, and a pair of classes sit on his large, oily nose. Y/n stumbles, her eyes widening as she embarrassingly lowers her knuckles from the door and takes a startled step backwards.

“Oh– um, Dr. Richmond?” she stammers nervously, her voice at a much higher pitch than usual. She’d love to stick a pore strip on his nose and unclog all those blackheads.

“That’s me,” he grumbles, sighing heavily, not even looking at her. He’s the head of the English Language and Literature department, a busy man surely. Students probably pester him every hour of every day. Still, she wishes that maybe she could’ve gotten a more… enthusiastic response from him.

“Hi, sir,” she says, swallowing thickly. “I-I was having some issues with enrolling in your English 270 lecture and– um,” she’s starting to lose confidence as Dr. Richmond blatantly ignores her, rummaging through his briefcase for his keys. “I was… wondering if you had a second to, um, discuss it?” Her voice quietly fades towards the end, not sure if Dr. Richmond was even listening at that point– as he’d taken out his phone and started replying to a text while she had still been talking.

He takes a solid five seconds to type out and send his text before responding to y/n. “Take it up with Harry,” he mumbles, still not looking at her. “M’done for the day.”

“Harry?” she repeats, her voice confused and eyebrows pinching together. But Dr. Richmond’s already walking away from her, halfway down the hall. “Oh,” she mumbles to herself sadly, lips pouting. All that, for nothing. He literally just walked away from her.

She sighs heavily, ready to turn on her heel and walk back to her apartment from this failed mission – but then a voice sounds from inside the office. "In here!" it calls out.

She peaks her head inside timidly.

Behind the desk sits a boy, with chocolate brown curls swirled atop his head. “Hello,” he hums, putting the essay he’d been reading down on the desk and looking at her with all his attention. There’s a soft smile on his pretty pink lips, twisted to the side with a dimple poking at his cheek. His eyes are green and glimmer kindly, framed by a pair of dark tortoise shell glasses. “How can I help you?”

This man is much more attractive than grumpy old (and oily) Dr. Richmond.

Y/n struggles to find her voice. “Are you… um, are you Harry?” Her eyes flicker all over this attractive young man’s face, trying to figure out if this is a hallucination or if a boy that pretty actually exists in real life.

“Indeed I am,” he chirps, his chair squeaking as he leans forward. She briefly remembers seeing the name “Harry E. Styles” listed as the graduate teaching assistant, underneath Dr. Richmond’s name on the course website, and is finally connecting the dots. He’s dressed in a white button up, the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattooed forearms and an anchor on his wrist. His fingers tap against the desk rhythmically, and she finds her eyes drawn to the glittery rings decorating them. Her mind goes blank.

It’s clear that he’s a few years older than herself – but not in a bad way. He just looks taller and broader and… smarter than most of the boys her own age. He has just the slightest bit of stubble on his upper lip, and his eyes just shine with wisdom and intellect.

“Did you have a question?” he asks, voice a little teasing as he jolts her out of her little trance. She tucks her hair behind her ear, embarrassed, and quickly averts her eyes from his hands.

“Yeah, um– Dr. Richmond said you’d be able to help me with my enrollment issues?”

“Sure,” he crosses one leg over the other (y/n definitely notices the way his meaty thighs bulge) and leans back in his seat, hands folded neatly on his knee, “What’s up?”

“Well, I wanted to enroll in English 270, the Romantic Literature and Society lecture–” Harry nods attentively, “ –but the class is restricted to students in the Department of English Literature… which I’m not.” His eyebrows furrow hesitatingly, and she’s quick to defend herself. “I’ve taken all the prerequisites, though! I did well in all of them, and I emailed the department coordinator and they said that it’s fine for me to enroll in this class. It would just be a manual enrollment instead of the standard enrollment but they’ve done it for me for all the other literature classes I’ve taken that were also major restricted. All I need is a permission code and the professor's approval!” She pauses, taking a breath after her big ramble. “Or your approval, I suppose,” she adds as an afterthought.

He’s silent for a bit, sitting there with furrowed brows and pursed lips, just staring at her. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, squirming under his intense gaze.

Finally he asks, “What do you study then? If not literature?”

“Um– I’m a psych major.”

“And… why would a psychology major need to take an upper division literature class?” he presses. Not trying to be rude, but just to understand.

“Oh. I just… really enjoy books,” she says shyly. “It’s not for any credit toward my major. But I promise that I’ll stay on top of the work and participate and all that!”

He leans his forearms on the desk. His eyes are thoughtful, and he takes his time before speaking. “Your name was…?” he trails off.

“Y/n,” she fills in quickly. He nods.

“Miss y/n,” he sits up straighter, and looks her in the eye, “How many other units are you taking this semester?”

“Um…” she counts them off in her head. “16?”

“So with this class you’d be at 20?” he confirms.

She nods, nervously chewing on the inside of her cheek. That is a lot of units. The last time she took 20 units she had a mental breakdown so intense that she spent an entire night just crying to her roommate (Iris), incapable of doing any work or studying because she was just so stressed out and overwhelmed. She had to skip classes just to catch up on the work that she’d fallen behind on for her other classes, and found her weekends swamped with essays and studying and missed assignments. She only just barely survived, and as soon as finals week was over, she literally collapsed with exhaustion, her body and brain so burnt out that she was sick for weeks. She’d promised herself that she’d never do it again… and yet here she is not even two semesters later.

She can already imagine how stressful this semester is going to be.

“You understand, miss y/n, that this is not an easy class?” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and somehow it’s attractive. “We have weekly readings and essays and discussions, and the final paper is not a matter to be taken lightly. You truly believe you can manage that on top of all your other classes?”

She gulps nervously, but timidly nods. He can tell that he’s laid it all on a bit harshly.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” he says softly. “I’m just trying to be… realistic. You seem to be a highly motivated student – and I admire that you’re pursuing topics that truly interest you – but I’d hate to see you burn yourself out.”

“I think I can handle it,” she says, quiet but confident. “It’s something I enjoy so it’s more like a hobby than a class. And I think it’ll be fun? I saw on the syllabus that we’d be analyzing Frankenstein, which is one of my favorites…”

His lips twist in a soft, endeared smile. He also loves Frankenstein.

“Very well then,” he murmurs, his eyes glimmering thoughtfully. “What was it you needed to get enrolled? A permission code? I think if you just give me your student ID number I can get that sorted out…”

+++

The weather today is better.

It’s still cloudy and gray outside, but the wind is much more forgiving, just a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. Orange and red leaves fall to the ground, crunching underneath y/n’s feet as she walks to class. They match the red sweater that she’s wearing today, soft and knitted with hidden tones of orange and brown woven between the threads. The colors of autumn, her favorite season.

A pair of wired headphones trail from her back pocket to her ears. She’s listening to her fall playlist, Lana Del Rey’s Season of the Witch setting the tempo of her walk to campus. In one hand she carries her book – The Secret History by Donna Tart – and in the other she carries her iced chai latte. Her fingers are freezing as she holds her iced drink, and a shiver crawls down her spine every time she takes a sip – but she doesn’t regret her drink order at all. She’ll have an iced chai in her hand no matter the weather.

Wanting to make a good impression on the first day of classes, she got up extra early today to get a head start. She washed her face so that she’d look extra bright and awake, ate a proper breakfast at her dining table instead of her usual banana-on-the-walk-to-class, and put on an outfit that she thought gave… studious. Her autumn sweater, dark blue denim jeans, and white sneakers. She even chose her book to match the academic vibe she was going for today (she was between The Secret History and Happy Place, and Happy Place just felt too summery for such a gloomy day… plus The Secret History has been on her TBR for way too long.).

She arrives at the lecture hall approximately… 20 minutes too early. But it was on purpose! She’s only taken a few classes in the literature building (most of her classes are in the social science buildings) and wanted to have enough time to find the room before class started. How horrible would it be for her to be late on the first day, when she’s desperate to make such a good impression on Harry? And Dr. Richmond, of course– but mostly Harry.

He was nice. And she wants him to like her. Ballad of a girl who craves academic validation.

The door to the lecture hall is locked, so y/n takes a seat on the floor right next to the door, and cracks her book open. She’s only 15 pages in, but she’s already enthralled. She can’t count how many times this novel has been recommended to her – always in those “best books to read in fall<3” tik toks, or the list of classics recommended by the New York Times – and she gets it. She zones in, her eyes flickering from one page to the next as her headphones softly play Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac. She’s not one to usually listen to music while she reads (she usually finds it to be too distracting), but she’s so engrossed in this world and these characters that she barely remembers that she’s still listening to music. The people walking past her in the hallway fade away, the fluorescent lights transform into the dark library her book characters are currently huddled in, and no sound passes through her wired headphones – not even the heeled boots clicking against the tile floors, getting closer and closer to her.

She only realizes that she’s not alone when those brown boots stop right in front of her, shining brightly in contrast to her worn out sneakers. She looks up suddenly, yanking her headphones out of her ears. Harry towers over her, key in hand, which he sticks into the lock. A soft smirk twists at his lips, and his green eyes flicker to where she’s looking up at him from the floor.

“Miss y/n,” he says with a pleasant nod, a hint of amusement in his voice, “You’re here early.”

She folds the corner of the page she’s on and stands up, gently shutting her book. “I didn’t want to be late,” she responds, fussing with her stubborn headphones, which refuse to tuck into her back pocket. “I don’t have many classes in this building… didn’t want to get lost or anything on the first day.”

He opens the door and lets y/n in first, following in closely behind her. “Punctuality is good.” He props the door open.

She looks around the lecture hall. It’s not nearly as big as the classrooms she usually sits in for her psychology classes – those classes are huge, usually filled with a bunch of freshmen from all sorts of majors trying to fulfill their lower division GE requirements and whatnot. Those lecture halls could fit up to 400 people. This one probably wouldn’t fit more than 60.

Not a problem though, considering that this class only had about 40 students enrolled (she checked last night).

She wonders where she should sit. Too far in the back and she’d make the wrong first impression… but too close to the front and she might be the annoying kid that asks too many questions. Third row is her best bet.

There’s still about 15 minutes before the class is scheduled to start, and she’s still the only one in the lecture hall apart from Harry. She feels a bit awkward, being the person in the sea of seats, but Harry pays no mind to her, shuffling through papers and logging onto the computer at the front podium. Though her book sits opened on her lap, she can’t help but stare at him.

He’s wearing brown trousers, well fitted around his legs and cutting off perfectly at his ankles as if they were custom tailored for him. Cream colored socks adorn his ankles and those shiny, brown leather boots click against the floor with his every step. Very professional, but also casual with the way his white button up is rolled up at the sleeves and unbuttoned at the top. He’s missing those cute glasses today, though.

She watches as he struggles to turn the projector on, his eyebrows furrowed as he presses all the buttons on the panel. The lights in the classroom turn on and off again, and the computer audio mutes and unmutes before he finally figures out how to get the screen to roll down and the projector to flicker on. Despite him being only a few years older, he looks like an old man toggling with the buttons and trying to get technology to work in his favor. She bites back a smile, and quickly looks down to her book when Harry’s eyes briefly flicker to hers. From her peripheral vision, she can see him laughing as well and shaking his head at himself.

She traces her fingers over the pages of the book, clearly well loved and worn out. She got it from the library just last week, after having been on the waitlist for the book for the past month. She can see why it’s so popular though, already so engrossed by the plot. The pages are old and yellow, the edges folded and ripped with years of use, and it has that old book smell that she just adores. How old is this book? It was published in the 90’s, wasn’t it?

Harry’s voice interrupts her thoughts. “Reading something good?”

She looks up at him with wide eyes. He’s managed to successfully display the course syllabus on the projector screen, and is now walking around the desk with a stack of papers in his hand. He stands in front of the very first row, leaning his weight onto one leg with a hand in his pocket.

“Oh, um–” she falters, “I actually just started it. I’ve heard it’s supposed to be really good.” She sits up straighter in her seat, “Have you heard of it? The Secret History?”

Harry purses his lips, “Sounds familiar… haven’t read it though. You’ll have to tell me if it’s worth reading, alright?”

She nods, smiling shyly. Call her delusional but… it feels like a bit of an honor for him to trust her with a book recommendation. That takes a lot of trust, doesn’t it? To trust that someone will recommend a good book to you?

She’s totally making a big deal out of nothing. She does that sometimes.

“How about you?” she asks, her voice embarrassingly quiet. She’s shy, and nervous, and she’s not that good at small talk, and Harry is looking at her with these intense, green eyes that make her feel like she’s saying the most important thing in the world. She clears her throat, forcing her voice to not come out scared and shaky, “Read anything good lately?”

He grins, and she can tell this is probably his favorite thing to talk about. “M’reading, like, five books at once,” he admits sheepishly. “Kafka on the Shore, if you’ve heard of it… Notes from Underground, by Dostoevsky for one of m’own classes…” he purses his lips in thought, “Started re-reading Paradise Lost as well. We’re analyzing it in one of the other classes im TA-ing, n’ it’s one of my favorites to teach,” he says with a shrug. His eyes are so thoughtful as he lists off the books that he’s reading, flickering green and gold. He’s just… beautiful.

“I haven’t read any of them,” y/n says regretfully, wishing that she could impress him with some sort of intellectual talk about one of these books. “I’ve had Kafka on the Shore on my list for a while, though.”

He smiles. “S’a good one.” There’s a dimple in his left cheek that pinches cutely, the glimmer in his eyes a sight to behold. His pretty pink lips purse thoughtfully, his heart shaped cupid's bow twitching as though he has more to say – but then another student walks in.

Harry’s head whips around. His jawline is sharp, and he nods politely at the new student. “Good morning,” he murmurs to the girl – that same welcoming voice that had made y/n’s heart flutter that first day that she met him.

He turns back to y/n, and hands her a paper from the stack in his hands. “The syllabus,” he says, his eyes kind and warm.

She swallows thickly as he walks away from her, enamored already.

+++

“Classes will be Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Dr. Richmond lectures from the front of the class. His voice is croaky and old, so he has a tiny microphone clipped to his shirt pocket to project his voice to the back of the class – despite the small size of the lecture hall. “Thursdays I’ll lead the class,” he drones on, “We’ll analyze the romantic era… how their literature was a reflection of their politics… how they set the foundation of modern day consumerism, capitalism, patriarchy, globalism, imperialism…” he waves his hand passively. “The works.”

He takes a long sip of water, and his swallow echoes through the class, amplified by his shirt microphone. Y/n cringes at the wet mouth sounds as he smacks his lips together.

“On Tuesday’s–” his voice booms through the microphone again, “you will come to a class discussion led by Harry. This means that you’ll have the entire weekend to do the readings…”

Nearly all the eyes in the room flicker to Harry, who’s been standing quietly in the corner with his hands folded behind his back while Dr. Richmond continues to lecture. He gives a small, almost bashful wave to the class at the mention of his name, his eyes scanning the room of unfamiliar faces. Their eyes meet, and his lips twist into a smile. This is the third time she’s caught his eye during the lecture.

He stares at her for a second, eyes glinting as if the two of them have a secret that they’re not sharing with the rest of the class. It makes her heart race in her chest, smiling back at him secretly.

She breaks their eye contact when Dr. Richmond croaks out with the last of his voice, “Any questions?”

He’s met with silence.

“No? Okay good, class dismissed. See you all on Thursday.”

The class bustles with life, backpacks zipping and pull out desks squeaking as everyone slowly trickles out of the room. A line forms in front of Dr. Richmond’s podium, with students eagerly introducing themselves and asking questions about the syllabus, only to be redirected to the back of the new line forming in front of Harry’s corner. Harry smiles kindly at every question and speaks with eloquence, strikingly different to Dr. Richmond’s grumbling and groaning.

It’s glaringly obvious that Harry is going to be a class favorite.

In the middle of answering a redheaded boy’s question, his gaze wanders over to y/n, watching her as she packs up her things, eyes following her to the door. She tucks her book under her arm and plugs her headphones into her ear, throwing her bag over her shoulder.

Her drink is finished, just a cup full of melting ice at this point, so she stops at the trash can right at the front of the door. As she throws it away, she manages one final glance back at Harry. He’s already looking at her. He grins when their eyes meet, and gives a small wave goodbye.

She bites back a smile, then hurries out of the classroom before he gets the chance to see her giddy eyes and heating cheeks.

+++

Y/n honestly doesn’t love going to office hours.

It’s hard, because on one hand, she knows that she should go to them and form a relationship with her professors so that they can write her letters of rec in the future… but on the other, they’re so crowded and awkward! Every other student is there for the same reason as her, going into office hours to ask their silly questions and try to butter up the professor. There are usually at least a dozen college students in there, waiting for their one second interaction with the professor before they all get kicked out at the end of the hour. It’s annoying and a waste of her time. Plus, she doubts Dr. Richmond is all that into getting buttered up

That’s why she chooses to go to TA office hours instead. Usually much more quiet and much more intimate. Not that many people like to go to TA office hours for some reason, which means she usually gets to have one-on-one help. And sometimes (if the TA is really cool) they’ll basically give her the answers to the homework – a good thing, right?

Well… not when the TA is this ridiculously attractive and charming boy with curly brown hair and pretty green eyes that she can’t help but have a teensy little crush on.

Like… can you blame her? He’s smart and handsome, and so incredibly kind and sweet. His eyes glimmer when he talks about his favorite books and his lips are always curled into a smile that makes her heart bubble. Always so polite and respectful, doing gentlemanly things while his boyish dimples pinch his cheeks. His voice is slow and sultry like smooth honey – and you can just tell that his mind is a beautiful place just from the way he talks.

He’s just… endearing. Straight out of some romance book– and y/n loves romance!!! She can’t help but have a little bit of a heart flutter when she sees him standing in the corner of the lecture hall, especially when their eyes meet and he smiles at her cutely.

He’s just being nice – she knows that, and she is well aware that she’s very delusional and that nothing is going to happen… but still, the prospect of going to his office hours and potentially having a one-on-one conversation with him makes her giddy and nervous at the same time.

She pulls herself together and shakes away all the silly thoughts clouding her brain. Hoisting her bag up her shoulder, she enters the small office, the gold plaque reading Styles, H. shining proudly as she walks through the door.

Harry doesn’t hear her walk in, his brows furrowed behind his tortoise shell glasses. A red pen is in his hand, brutally attacking a freshman essay. He looks up, a tad bit startled, when she knocks on the door timidly.

The furrow in his brow immediately softens and turns into that familiar, kind smile. “Miss y/n,” his eyes shine like the nighttime sky filled with stars, “My first student of the day.”

“Oh,” she checks the time. “I thought office hours started like, thirty minutes ago. Was I wrong? Am I early?” She intentionally wanted to show up a little late, not wanting to seem too eager.

“No, no – you were right,” he hums, putting his pen down. “Not many students tend to show up to our office hours, is all. Especially not during the first week.”

She bites on the inside of her lip and wonders if she should be embarrassed for being the only one to show up, but Harry is quick to continue,“I wish more people did come, though. Like– if nobody shows up, all I do is sit here and grade for an hour.” His lips purse out cutely, a thoughtful pout, “And I hate grading.”

“Oh– I’ll probably be here a lot,” y/n says mindlessly. “I always have questions. And Dr. Richmond kinda scares me.”

Harry sputters out a laugh, and y/n’s cheeks heat up. Maybe that was inappropriate to say. But then Harry leans in and whispers, “He scares me too, sometimes.”

It’s these charming little moments that make him so endearing. She tries not to get too distracted by his dimples and how his fingers tap delicately against his thigh, hugged deliciously by another pair of well fitting trousers.

“Um– if it’s not a bother, I was wondering if I could ask about the first assignment? I was kind of confused about what's expected from us for the free-write thing…”

“M’all yours,” Harry murmurs, gesturing to the seat across from his desk.

+++

Y/n’s fatal flaw is thinking that she can beat a rainstorm.

She actively knew there was an 80% chance of rain today. She saw the rainy streets. She heard the weather forecast. But did she bring an umbrella with herself to campus?

No.

Somehow she rationalized in her brain that she didn’t need it. It was barely sprinkling when she walked out of her apartment, and the walk to class was only like 15 minutes! She’d make it to campus and then she’d be indoors all day and by the time she needed to go home the rain would probably have died down, and everything would be fine.

Oh how wrong she was. Silly girl.

The rain is pounding down on her right now. Big fat raindrops soaking through her hoodie and turning her light wash denim jeans into a completely new color. She has many regrets. What had started off as a cute little walk in the rain has turned into her running through a fucking monsoon or something. The slight, gentle drizzle had escalated to pouring rain in a matter of seconds. She had left her apartment with her earbuds playing Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer, romanticizing her little stroll in the rain – but now her wire headphones are barely hanging on as half-speedwalks/ half-runs down the sidewalk with her head down.

When she gets stuck at a crosswalk on a busy street, she glances frantically to her left and right, trying to find a tree or a building to take shelter under. But the sky is wide and open, no roof or canopy for her to hide under. She stands helplessly, the rain pouring down on her. The only thing she can do is pull her hood up and grip it tightly so that the rain doesn’t get in her face.

The rain pierces through her clothes, and the wind feels extra cold against her wet jeans. Thank god she at least wore rainboots today, she thinks to herself as she stares down at the ground. This would suck even more if her socks were getting wet. She had thought far ahead enough to anticipate the possibility of puddles – and yet still didn’t imagine the need for an umbrella. The hems of her pants are soaked and feel horrible against her ankles, and she knows for a fact that she’s gonna have to let her hoodie air dry or something during Dr. Richmond’s lecture. Ugh. She hopes the lecture hall is warmer than it is out here.

She readjusts her headphones, pushing the earbuds further into her ear after they nearly fell out whilst she was running here. She likes this song, and it’s kind of romantic to be listening to it in the rain (it would be even more romantic if she wasn’t SOAKED TO THE CORE). If there’s anything y/n will do, it’s romanticize the shit out of any situation.

Cars are driving past quickly, but she can’t hear them, her music loud enough to drown out their annoying engines. She stares at a nearby puddle, looking at how it ripples as each drop of rain splatters into it. She wonders if mother nature has a personal vendetta against her – if Earth had personally planned to make it rain super hard the minute that she stepped out of her apartment. Why does she always do this? This isn’t the first time she’s caught herself soaked because she was too lazy to bring an umbrella with herself – and it probably isn’t the last time either. She crosses her arms across her chest and hides her hands in her sleeves, hugging herself tightly as a feeble defense against the biting rain. Why won’t the stupid crosswalk turn on? Her slightly damp hair falls into her eyes as she looks back down at her boots, letting out an annoyed huff.

The shadow of a new person tickles her peripheral vision. They brought an umbrella. She scolds herself once more.

It takes her a second to realize that, although she can still see the rain drizzling around her, splattering against the ground and splashing onto her boots… she actually doesn’t feel the gentle patter of raindrops against the top of her head anymore. She looks up.

Somehow, she is now under the umbrella. And the person holding said umbrella… is Harry.

He looks gorgeous as usual, dressed in a dark blue trench coat, black trousers, and some sleek black boots with gold buckles on them. Standing to her left, he holds his umbrella up between them in a way that shields both of them from the rain. He stares forward innocently, pretending like everything is normal – like he hadn't just snuck up next to her and shared his umbrella with her. She can see a slight smile tugging on his lips though, and when she stares at him long enough, he peeks over at her with a glint shimmering in his pupils. His pretty pink lips curl into that sideways smile, and he says nothing.

Y/n can’t help but give a dumbstruck little laugh. Of course it would be Harry.

He winks at her, ever so charming and mischievous, then turns back to face the road. The crosswalk switches from Stop to Go, and Harry takes a step forward. Y/n follows in his stride.

They say nothing, and walk to their lecture shoulder to shoulder.

+++

“So,” Harry says with a clap, his voice loud and strong, “I hope you all got the chance to do the first chapter of our reading.” Unlike Dr. Richmond, Harry doesn’t need a microphone to project his voice to the back of the class. All eyes are staring at him, ears listening intently. And all the girls are staring at his pretty pink lips, and how they curl over each word (y/n included).

“I know life gets in the way, so if y’ever don’t get the chance to finish the assigned reading… tha’s okay,” he says with a quirk of his lips. “M’not gonna be mad. I just ask that you don’t let it turn into a habit, and y’don’t pretend like you read it. M’gonna know if you’re bullshitting me… so just don’t even try.” The entire class laughs, and Harry’s dimple pokes his cheek.

“So– be honest– how many of you guys read the first chapter?”

All the students raise their hands, and Harry nods approvingly, “Nice… very nice.” He’s a natural at the front of the classroom, entertaining and intellectual at the same time – confident and eloquent. His words are thoughtful and slow, but not one student seems to be bored by his slow drawl. No – instead everyone hangs onto his every word, dripping soft and thick like golden honey. He answers questions easily and plays off of student responses like a pro, and everyone seems keen on impressing him with fancy literature talk.

“You might have seen on our course page that I posted a series of discussion questions… I’ll try to have these up at least a week in advance so that you can have them in the back of your mind whilst you’re reading. I always find it to be particularly stimulating to be reading a novel with a question in mind… dunno, makes me feel sharper while I read. Does anyone else feel that way?” He talks to the class as if they’re all friends, mildly flirtatious in the natural, charming way that he is.

The group of undergraduates nod back at him, enthralled by his smile and his wit and just everything about him. God, his smile is just so charming. “Okay... how about we get started with the first one? Wait– actually, before that… I’m just wondering, have any of you already read Frankenstein before?”

Two students out of the forty raise their hands – a boy wearing a Bob Dylan t-shirt, and y/n.

Harry’s eyes meet y/n’s for the first time since they entered the classroom together. They’d walked across campus together in comfortable silence, past the campus Starbucks and the Social Science buildings, and when they got to the Literature department building Harry had held the door open for her, while shaking off the rain droplets from his umbrella. They walked through the halls side by side as well, Harry’s shiny boots clicking in time with the squeak of y/n’s wet sneakers against the tile floors. All he had said to her during the entirety of their walk was “After you,” when he’d opened the door for her.

Now he looks at her for the first time in what feels like ages, and gives her an approving nod. He already knew that, from that very first day when she’d come to his office, asking for permission codes and what not. She feels her heart fluttering excitedly, just from that single nod.

“Interesting… so it’s a first read for most of you. Brilliant! We’ll have a good time reading it together, I promise,” he says, his green eyes gleaming. “I love this book – it’s sometimes called the first science fiction book, written at a time where technology was first being introduced, and it’s regarded as one of the most famous novels of the Romantic era. Mary Shelly, the author, was a prominent Romantic era writer who shared the common Romantic appreciation for the natural world and how art can evoke emotions, which we can clearly see in her novel. We’ll take a few different approaches while analyzing it. Most prominently through a Romantic lens – but we’ll also do a feminist reading and religious reading, as well as a biographical approach… which brings us to the first discussion question – ‘Frankenstein is ultimately a novel about creation– a new and terrifying exploration of bringing life into the world. Based on what you read in the introduction, how can we see Mary Shelly’s personal experiences with life, birth, and death in the themes explored in Frankenstein?’” He looks up from the sheet of paper that he just read the question aloud from with bright eyes, “Anyone want to start us off?”

The class is silent, the crowd of students suddenly much quieter compared to when they’d been going back and forth with playful banter to Harry’s jokes. Everyone’s a little too nervous to be the first one to say anything, and nobody wants to say the wrong thing. Harry holds his breath, and searches for a hand to save them from this awkward bit of silence. This kind of shyness is normal for the first day of classes – in fact, he’d expected it – but it still doesn’t mean it’s any less awkward. His eyes flicker from one side of the class to the other, from the front row to the back.

He almost misses y/n’s hand, timidly raising from her set spot in the third row. Harry’s eyes light up. “Miss y/n,” he murmurs, “go ahead.”

“Well, in the introduction we learn that Mary Shelly had a few failed pregnancies before writing her novel, and that her own mother had passed during childbirth complications. Shelly goes on to depict the cycle of life as destructive… Frankenstein’s monster is this disfigured creature that the creator is running from, which we see right at the beginning. The introduction implies that this “horrifying” birth and the death of the creator at the hands of what it created, might be symbolic of her own experiences.”

“Excellent. That’s exactly right,” his smiles meet his eyes, and they twinkle, impressed. “The reason we have this as the first discussion question,” Harry turns back to the rest of the class, “is because I want you guys to keep it in mind while reading. Look for the ways Shelly describes birth – take note of the strained relationship she creates between the creator and his creation. Also, recall how Shelly herself proclaimed this book to be her “hideous progeny” – to use such intense language whilst also calling it her “progeny” holds a lot of implications of what Shelly’s view on Creation is – whether is biologically or creatively. This is something that we’ll discuss further in depth when we get farther into the novel, so I want you all to start thinking about it now.”

All the students in the room nod intently, writing down what Harry said word for word.

“Furthermore, has anyone noticed that we’ve already seen a lot of references to fire? Pretty obvious symbolism, right?” The class nods. “Does anyone know why she chose fire, specifically?”

It’s silent again. Y/n looks around herself to see if anyone else might have the answer, but everyone stares up at Harry blankly.

“Don’t be shy on me now, guys. Promise m’not mean,” Harry smiles, “Just wanna get the discussion flowing.”

Y/n shyly raises her hand again. “It’s a reference to Prometheus, who stole fire from the gods – she even alternatively calls her story The Modern Prometheus.”

His eyes glimmer, a shine behind his irises that doesn’t show up when he looks at his other students – just y/n. As hard as he tries not to pick favorites… he can’t help but harbor a little bit of favoritism towards her. “Very good, Miss y/n,” he praises with a soft smile.

Y/n’s cheeks turn hot and she ducks her head down, unable to stop the reciprocating smile from spreading on her face.

+++

“Miss y/n,” Harry calls out to her as the students file out of the classroom. “A word, please.”

Y/n hoists her bag over her shoulder and makes her way to the podium where he stands. He’s packing up his own things, his own beat up copy of Frankenstein being placed delicately in his bag, along with a stack of other papers and things that he has to grade. A few other students have approached him, asking questions that they were too shy to ask during class, but with a sly smile he tells them to ask their questions at his office hours (Thursdays at 5 – but y/n already knew that!). Her fingers twist nervously behind her back as she stands awkwardly by his side as the rest of the students ask their questions and trickle out.

He waits until all the students have left, and it’s just him and y/n standing by the podium, before he says anything to her.

“You were making some excellent points today in class,” he looks up at her briefly with a smirk, “I appreciate your participation. Class is always more difficult to lead when students don’t participate.”

“Oh,” she blinks. She’s never been thanked for participating in class. “Erm– yeah. I-I’m happy to participate.” She readjusts her bag, tugging it higher up her shoulders, “S’just kinda like a big book club if y’really think about it.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he agrees with a quirk of his lips. He zips up his bag, and pulls it over his own shoulder, “How are you planning on getting home?”

A strange follow up question, she thinks to herself. But she responds, nonetheless, “Oh, I was just gonna walk.” Harry peers out of the window, then looks back at y/n, his eyebrows raised. She follows his gaze, and realizes that it is still raining like crazy outside.

A heavy sigh escapes her lips without her permission. Of course. “I guess I’ll just wait it out,” she shrugs, walking towards the door alongside Harry.

He locks the door behind them, with her lingering closely by, waiting for him. “Do you live far?”

“No, not really. Just a 15 minute walk.” They walk towards the building exit, and Harry pulls out his umbrella. “Not too bad, as long as there isn’t a monsoon going on outside,” she finishes with a petulant grumble.

Harry chuckles lowly, his dimples shining brightly. “I was just going to offer… y’know, since it’s still raining and you’re umbrella-less…” his eyes twinkle teasingly, “I could drive you home? Wouldn’t want you to get soaked again when you’ve only just dried off.”

“Oh!” she bubbles, looking at him with wide eyes. “Really? You would do that?” He nods, but she presses, “Are you sure that wouldn’t be a hassle? I mean– like, really I could just stay here and read until the rain dies down–”

“S’not a hassle,” he reassures. “Y’don’t even know when the rain will be gone– could be all night. It’ll be cold, n’dark… it’d make me feel better knowing you got home safe, yeah?”

“Gosh that’s… that’s really nice of you,” she says, almost pouting.

He just smiles, pushing the door open and opening his umbrella for the two of them to huddle under. His car is parked in the graduate student parking lot, so it’s not too far of a walk (although they’re doing more of a brisk speedwalk, trying to get out of the rain and wind as fast as possible). The rain patters harshly on top of his umbrella, but they manage to stay dry, shoulders brushing together and their warm bodies radiating heat onto each other.

He unlocks his car and opens the passenger's seat for her, making sure that she’s covered from the rain as she slides into her seat. He then runs over to his own side, quickly shutting his umbrella and throwing it into the backseat. His fingers are numb as he turns the car on, and he immediately blasts the heat for the two of them, putting his frozen fingers in front of the warm air. “God, not even three minutes out there n’ I’m already freezing m’bits off,” he mumbles to himself. He turns to her, and smiles when he sees her copying his actions, “Isn’t this so much better that walking home?”

All she can give is a nod, wriggling her fingers in front of his heaters. Her teeth are chattering as she barely manages to chatter out, “S’freezing.”

“Wind would’ve blown you away before you even made it home, I reckon.” He plays with the windshield wipers until they’re on the highest setting, but even then his windshield is blurry from the rain. He makes sure to drive extra slow and cautiously, reversing out at the speed of a snail and turning his high beams on.

It’s only when she’s sitting in the front seat of his car that a somewhat important thought floats to the forefront of her mind – “is this allowed?”

“Is what allowed?” He's half paying attention, half checking both sides of the road before turning left onto the street.

“Like– I mean you’re sort of my professor, I guess,” she stumbles over her words, “Is it… would you get in trouble? For like… giving me a ride?”

Harry’s eyebrows pinch thoughtfully, “Well, first of all– Dr. Richmond’s your professor, not me. Secondly– I don’t see why it would be against the rules. S’just a car ride,” he shrugs.

She relaxes in her seat, nodding. She supposes he’s right. It’s just a car ride.

“But– if anything,” he adds on with, turning to her momentarily with a mischievous glint in his eye, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Y/n’s lips curl. “Okay,” she giggles.

It’ll be their little secret.

+++

HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 2 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 14) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!

Prose (part 2) is already posted on patreon! : In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out

Prose Masterlist

#harry smut #harry fic #harry styles smut #harry #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry fanfic

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crookedteethed · 12 days

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18+ Thinking about the Rafe’s receiving a blowjob from reader

a/n: sorry this was longer then expected, I was def picturing reader as me 😭

Season One Rafe, god, you don't know why you asked him. You two were at a kook party (you were out of your element). He said he got some Mary Jane. When you asked if he had anything stronger, he pulled out a small white baggy filled with a white substance. He calls it yayo.

When you reached for the tiny bag, he drew his hand back, talking out the side of his mouth, which his blunt didn't reside on, asking you, "what the fuck are you going to do for me?"

He could tell by your bronzy sun tan and too scruffed-up shoes that you were from the cut, so he knew you wouldn't have the money; that's why he also raised the price on his drugs as soon as he saw you approach him.

You were the one to offer up the BJ, which was an offer Rafe couldn't decline. It'd be so sinister to him: getting a blow job from a pogue? Your pogue lips on his kook cock? Fucking disgusting yet appealing.

After the deed is done and you both get what you want, Rafe's telling all his kook friends about how he'd let you blow him just for a bag of coke and telling them how much of a slut you are.

"And I told her," He tells Kelce. "I would have given the bag to her for a buck, but the bitch just wanted my dick so bad."

Season Two this is a hottake, but I totally can see season two Rafe hiring a sex worker to give him a blow job. I mean, the boy's family is in complete disarray; he has no friends (besides Berry?), and he has blood dripping down from his nose to his chin (I'm talking about the one GIF of him, you know, the one). He needs to blow off some steam.

He sits and waits outside the local strip club. He waits until midnight when the strip club is closed, and some of the girls who strip during the day also trick at night.

He sees you standing in the corner with ripped fishnet stockings and a stubbed cigarette between your fingers. He rolls over to you with a wad of cash already in his hand. You hop into his car, and right then, he tells you to suck it now.

Poor girl, for the next thirty minutes, you'd have to endure Rafe's constant head pushing, the sounds of your gurgling and gagging around his cock, and his dirty mouth telling you:

"Take it, you can take it, can't you? Don't you do this to men for a living? Take it, you slut." : (

Season Three I don't think Rafe would particularly ask you for a blow job. I mean, yeah, he loves them, but I wholeheartedly believe that in season three, Rafe is a pussy eater. But he'd only eat your pussy out of necessity.

He needs an alibi for the night the cross was stolen; he was at home eating his girl out, your honor.

You find out he stole and melted the Pogue's cross, you yell at him for how villainess that was, he guilt trips you on how he doesn't know any better, then he distracts you by eating you out.

He doesn't want you (his first actual girlfriend) to see how everyone else sees him on Kildare Island, so he's laying your body supine on your shared bed, making love to your little clit, and eating your pussy like he's a starved man.

#fem reader #fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #the boy is mine #the outer banks #drew starkey #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe outer banks #Rafe Cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #outer banks fanfic

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toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account · 5 months

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god ride the cyclone is the fucking musical ever. a rat named Virgil that's going to kill the narrator (a paranormal fortune telling machine) in like an hour plays the bass. you're then immediately introduced to five children that are brutally killed in a roller coaster accident and have their hopes and dreams and everything they loved taken away from them. an unidentified headless body depicted as having her doll's head appears and sings a very woeful introduction to her character and then asks if her purgatory-mate would like to brush her dolly's hair and then recites a fact about how when a lioness has children she stops making love to the lion. the lion gets jealous. sometimes so jealous he eats the children. you would think this would upset the lioness. far from it. they make love again like the children never existed. she finds that idea terrifying. the paranormal fortune telling machine is able to move the children's bodies against their will for choreography and "catchphrases" and this is shown to be something they're discomforted by initially but continues nonetheless through the rest of the musical. ocean tears down all of her friends in her song to come back to life until she's told they decide who comes back through unanimous vote. you laugh for half a second before you remember that even if she's initially stuck up and conceited her song was an attempt from the soul of an innocent dead teenager who died for no reason to try to plead to come back to life. noel has fantasies of being a sex worker in post-war france and dying of typhoid flu driven by his love of french new wave cinema (mischa calling him tragic later is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to him). mischa recites a very precise and accurate analysis of the meaning of Saw VI but calls it Saw V. you listen to a very silly hip-hop rap before you listen to one of the most heartbreakingly loving songs you've ever heard and you hear "I lay my masculinity at the altar of your maidenhood" and you wonder how this is the same musical where the rat played the bass. you go from a song about a teenage boy saving an alien race of cat girls by breeding with them all to a mournful and breathtaking song about a jane doe's complete lack of identity besides the fact that she is dead and without an identity and the fact that she spends the whole song not begging to come back to life but begging to know who she is. her purgatory-mates get her a party hat and an old hello kitty cupcake and a cape and you sob when this choir made up of dead children make up a new birthday song that doesn't require a name so this jane doe can have a good new birthday because they finally don't see her as a freaky and eerie character but as a dead child just like them who can't remember who she is and they treat her like one of their own even though none of them recognize her from their choir. the last thing constance did before riding the cyclone was lose her virginity to a thirty year old and you try very hard not to think about how horrible that is. the girl that had been selfish the entire musical is given the final vote and is given a chance to vote for herself and she honors the original rules so she can give a new life to jane doe and everyone agrees. these children watch jane's new life play out and you think about how much they all deserved new lives too. it's both the most fun and most sad fucking musical you've ever listened to. fuck.

#and then you realize you got into it like 3 years too late for there to be an active fandom 🙃#long post #mine #ride the cyclone

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gatheringbones · 5 months

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best books I read in 2023:

sophie strand, the flowering wand: rewilding the sacred masculine

alex iantaffi, gender trauma: healing cultural, social, and historical gendered trauma

matthew desmond, evicted: poverty and profit in the american city

betty dodson, sex for one: the joy of selfloving

ching-in chen, andrea smith, jai dulani, the revolution starts at home: confronting intimate partner violence within activist communities

robin stern, the gaslight effect: how to spot and survive the hidden manipulation others use to control your life

nick turse, kill anything that moves: the real american war in vietnam

lori fox, this has always been a war: the radicalization of a working class queer

arline t. geronimus, weathering: the extraordinary stress of ordinary life in an unjust society

roxanne dunbar-ortiz, not a nation of immigrants: settler colonialism, white supremacy, and a history of erasure and exclusion

eyal press, dirty work: essential jobs and the hidden toll of inequality in america

rabbi danya ruttenberg, on repentence and repair: making amends in an unapologetic world

michelle dowd, forager: field notes for surviving a family cult

starhawk, the empowerment manual: a guide for collaborative groups

betty dodson, orgasms for two: the joy of partnersex

timothy snyder, black earth: the holocaust as history and warning

kidada e. williams, I saw death coming: a history of terror and survival in the war against reconstruction

judy grahn, another mother tongue: gay words, gay worlds

jennifer m. silva, coming up short: working-class adulthood in an age of uncertainty

susanna clarke, piranesi

megan asaka, seattle from the margins: exclusion, erasure, and the making of a pacific coast city

starhawk, truth or dare: encounters with power, authority, and mystery

laura jane grace, tranny: confessions of punk rock’s most infamous anarchist sellout

molly smith, revolting prostitutes: the fight for sex worker's rights

richard c. schwartz, you are the one you've been waiting for: applying internal family systems to intimate relationships

timothy snyder, our malady: lessons in liberty from a hospital diary

peter levine, trauma and memory: brain and body in search for the living past

kylie cheung, survivor injustice: state-sanctioned abuse, domestic violence, and the fight for bodily autonomy

timothy snyder, bloodlands: europe between hitler and stalin

joan larkin, a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories

cj cherryh, hammerfall

#book recs tag

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pupvivi · 2 years

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Haseul blinked up at him, nice and comfortable on her knees. She knew he was stressed but the fact that he was still in his work attire when she arrived must means he really needed this. The greeting between them was as usual, and Jungeun offered to make her tea, but she waved it off.

She was here to take care of him first, all those formalities could wait. "Well?" She quirked an eyebrow, waiting.

Jungeun's hands twitched at his side before finally realizing what he needed to do, button undone and zipper down, his hands are pushed away. His fucked skirt pushed up by Haseul, and his cock pulled free from the boxer slot.

Haseul frowned realizing that he wasn't even ready for her. "I should charge you extra for this." She hissed, glancing up to see just how mean she needed to be. Her strokes were slow but confident.

Precum was already starting to form and dribble down Jungeun's shaft. His breathing was also picking up, and she could feel him hardening in real time. "Sorry," He finally choked out, a moan followed after. "It's been a long day and-"

"Save it." Haseul waved it off, before leaving in to press a kiss against the tip of his cock. Precum wetting her lips. She trailed kisses down to his balls, making sure to give them attention as well, before licking all the way back up.

"Fuck," Jungeun whimpered, as he watched Jane take care of him. He didn't know how she was so good at this, he didn't even specify what he wanted from her and she simply took control of the scenario.

Haseul refused to look away as she opened her mouth, and let Jungeun fill her mouth until she couldn't fit anymore. She didn't move or abusing, just let him whine and blush so pretty before her.

The broken moans, along with him not being sure where to put his hands. It was cute, but that's not what she was here for. No she was going to suck the literal stress out of him.

Pulling back, Haseul licked her lips. "Hands on the wall." She instructed, as she sat back. She shifted her weight, and mentally prepared herself to say that she was going to say. "You're going to fuck my mouth."

Jungeun could feel himself throb, the way his cock jumped at her words. He wanted to ask why, as he was more than satisfied with the oral he was getting.

Nodding, he did as he was told, as Haseul assisted with angling the cock head against her lips. He pushed inside again, this time all the work on him. He stopped at the same amount of length that Haseul did. But she made a hum that made him pull back.

He didn't understand.

"I just told you to fuck my mouth, not cockwarm it." Jane scolded, and Jungeun blushed harder. "Move your hips."

It works seem that third time was the charm, as Jungeun pushed in by himself. He didn't look away as Haseul took him with ease, or the filthy sound of salvia mixing with his precum, as he finally pulled back and pushed back in.

His first couplr of thrusts were tests to see just how much he could just go. But when he locked eyes with Jane, he hissed at the twinkle in her eyes. She was still laughing at him for being so gentle.

His next thrust was greedy, pushing more of himself into her mouth than before, and he could see it. The darkening of Jane's eyes. The way her mouth widened even more, and oh.

He moaned at the implications. He was going to fuck her mouth, and she was going to touch herself.

His hips took off, knowing that they were both going to get something out of this. His hands remained against the wall, but started to slide down as he found his rhythm.

The sight of Jane's eyes watering from being used like this but refusing to look away, instead letting the tears pool up and spill down her cheeks. Only to moan around his cock.

Jungeun wasnt going to last long, and he knew it. He couldn't really ask permission, but he still let one of his hands tangle in short, platinum locks as he finally bottomed out in her mouth. She was so warm and wet, second only to her pussy that she was activity toying with.

He would rather be doing that himself but couldn't vocalize it, instead let every moan and whine escape his lips. His orgasm finally crashed, and his heavy load filled Haseul's mouth. He at least pulled back enough so only his tip was in her mouth, not wanting to choke her.

The gesture was appreciated, as Haseul did what any good sex worker would do, and swallow. At least in her opinion, with all the hard work that went into it, she may as well have a taste.

She herself was close, as her fingers kept toying with her clit. Her panties were wet. Unlike get other clients, Jungeun was very vocal, and she liked that from him. "Good boy." She finally said, once everything was taken care of.

Jungeun was still sporting a semi, and while he did look a little winded, he was looking at her like he was expecting another command.

"Since you're still recovering," She said, finding enough strength to stand up. She didn't miss leg day just for this. "I'll let you eat me out as a reward. It's the least you can do since I let you fuck my face."

With practiced ease, she found herself in Jungeun's bed. Her shorts and panties kicked off. She kept her bra on, knowing full and well that he likes to remove it himself.

Jungeun followed her into the room, like he was in a daze and shucked off his own work attire. It would need to be cleaned anyway with how much of a sweat he worked up. "Keep your tie on, I'm going to use it later."

#lipseul #sex worker!jane

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youremyheaven · 11 months

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pt 2 vedic astro symbols & motifs

serpent yoni folks depicted with their yoni animal

Bella has Ashlesha mars as her atmakaraka, with saturn and ketu in UBP. Gigi has UBP venus and Ashlesha mars amatyakaraka. ive talked about how Ashlesha natives often have a controlling mother, or a severe, abusive and toxic upbringing and anyone who knows about Yolanda Hadid knows how controlling she is as a mother.

there has been some debate about Rihanna's birth time. with her current birth time, she has Revati moon/venus/rising but there is a slight possibility that she potentially has UBP rising.

Ashlesha sun, Rohini mars and Mrigashira ketu Cara Delevingne has a snake tattoo on her hand.

UBP moon and Ashlesha rahu, Kim K in a snakeskin dress (she often wears snakeskin if you guys have noticed)

Rohini moon & rising, mrigashira venus Priyanka Chopra wearing snakeskin

Ashlesha Ketu, Taylor Swift in a snakeskin dress. Her Reputation era heavily featured serpent imagery as well.

2. Vishaka women love headpieces or hair accessories or making their head stand out in some way.

Beyonce (vishaka moon) is known for her over the top head gears.

Lana Del Rey (Vishaka rising) at the met gala, a few years ago. She is also known for her love of old school big beehive hairdos.

Sonam Kapoor (vishaka ketu) closing a Ralph & Russo show. Sonam is also known for her love of extravagant hairdos.

Salma Hayek (vishaka ketu) loves wearing tiaras on the red carpet!!

Vishaka sun & mercury, Lorde at the Met Gala

Katy Perry (vishaka moon & saturn)

3. Mary Sue is a character archetype, which is defined as a "usually a young woman, who is often portrayed as inexplicably competent across all domains, gifted with unique talents or powers, liked or respected by most other characters, unrealistically free of weaknesses, extremely attractive, innately virtuous, and/or generally lacking meaningful character flaws."

i've noticed that a lot of characters who are labelled to be "Mary Sues" are played by women who have deva gana nakshatras. Deva gana natives are said to possess a divine nature and hence, why they're often cast as people who seem to be lacking flaws and sometimes sincere to a point of stupidity.

Rey Skywalker is said to be a classic example of a Mary Sue. She is played by Daisy Ridley who has Revati sun and Punarvasu moon.

Anastasia Steele is another Mary Sue, played by Dakota Johnson who has Hasta sun and Anuradha moon

Bella Swan is probably the most notorious example of a Mary Sue, she is played by Kristen Stewart who has Revati sun and Hasta moon.

4. ive noticed a lot of Ketu girlies playing sex workers in movies, especially a lot of Magha natives

Jennifer Connelly in Requiem for a Dream (she has Ketu in Magha)

Barbra Streisand, Ashwini sun (Nuts, 1987)

Dolly Parton (Magha moon) in The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas

Magha rising, Uma Thurman in Les Mis as Fantine

Magha moon, Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman

Jane Fonda, Mula sun in Klute

Ashwini stellium, Penelope Cruz in To Rome with Love

5. ive noticed that many women who marry into royalty have jupiter nakshatras

Kate Middleton who is married to Prince William has Punarvasu moon.

Kareena Kapoor who is married to the Nawab of Pataudi has her Mars in Vishaka in the 7th house of marriage 👀

Grace Kelly who married Prince Rainier of Monaco, had Vishaka sun/mars and Purvabhadrapada moon

Diane von Furstenberg, the designer was married to Prince Egon and she has Vishaka venus & jupiter (her darakaraka and atmakaraka, respectively)

Rita Hayworth who was briefly married to Prince Aly Khan also had Purvabhadrapada moon.

Olivia Wilde who was married to Prince Tao Ruspoli has Purvabhadrapada sun & mercury

Barbara Hutton who has Vishaka sun & mars was married to 3 different princes.

#vedic astro notes #astro observations #astro notes #vedic astrology #astrology observations #sidereal astrology #nakshatras #astrology notes

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mouse-of-dimitrescu · 5 months

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𝟷𝟸 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂 🎄 #2 J𝚊𝚗e Murdstone 𝚇 𝙵𝚎𝚖 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Christmas Confessions ( nsfw )

Jane Murdstone X Fem reader

WARNINGS: mentions of church, slight blasphemy, the usual and expected lesbian sex, mentions of guilt, Mr Murdstone's brief presence.

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Initially, working for the Murdstones was extremely intimidating — especially when Miss Murdstone arrived: Mr Murdstone's sister. You found yourself freezing in place every time she spoke to you. You were a hard worker and always completed your tasks which was why, in early November, Miss Murdstone hired you as her personal worker. You would help her dress in the mornings and undress in the evenings. You would run baths for her and out her hair up in the mornings, change her hairstyles for dinner time and bedtime. Miss Murdstone was highly intimidating, No matter how hard you tried to get used to her presence. You soon realised that this intimidation made you feel things that an employee should never feel — yet alone towards a woman of a higher rank.

On Sundays, the Murdstones initiated a rule that the house and garden workers accompanied them to the church service. You despised this — finding the services a complete bore. On the Sunday, the week before Christmas, you found yourself sitting next to Miss Murdstone — the Raven Goddess herself. You fidgeted throughout the service and lip synced through the tedious hymns — unable to speak a word. You heard Miss Murdstone's sweet, melodic voice and silently prayed that her voice would whisper your name — fingers like lips, producing a sweet sound from a golden harp.

After the service, you walked out, relieved that the Sunday ritual was over. You followed behind Mr and Miss Murdstone as you all took a short walk back to the house, the housekeeper, Margaret, walked near you but no one spoke. You silently evesdropped on the conversation in front of you, to your surprise, you heard Mr Murdstone say that he would be absent on Christmas Day: he would be travelling with his wife out of the country which left Miss Murdstone all alone. Normally, Mr Murdstone would allow his staff the day off on Christmas. This time, things were a little different.

That evening, you heloed Miss Murdstone undress as per usual and she spoke up. " Girl, I expect you to work on Christmas Day. You're staying in the house with me. My brother will be absent as he is travelling with his wife." Without a word of confirmation from your side, Miss Murdstone walked towards the bathroom. You tried to pull your eyes away from her nude body but you couldn't — so you closed your eyelids, not noticing that Miss Murdstone was looking at you.

" Praying?" She bluntly asked, her voice unusually soft but tinted with amusement.

You quickly opened your eyes and shook your head. With trembling hands, you began to assist Miss Murdstone in washing her hair. She looked at you skeptically as you did so but you tried to ignore her quizzical gazes. You were more frightened and more awkward than usual. This was not because you had to work on Christmas Day — it wasn't as though you had any plans outside of your employment so assisting the Murdstones gave you some form of distraction. The problem was that you began to realise a deep attraction towards Miss Murdstone and you wished to help her in more ways than one.

" You're awful fidgety today, girl." Jane noted in annoyance and looked up at you.

" Y-ye-yes. Apologies, Miss Murdstone. I found myself rather out of sorts today." You admitted, not wanting to dwell on the topic any longer. " Which scent would you like this evening, my lady? Rose or lavender?" You asked.

" Rose." Jane kept her eyes on you the entire time. You eventually left so she could have some privacy while she bathed. Jane came out of the bathroom a while later to find you organising the items on her vanity.

She sat down at her vanity, leaving her nightgown open and occasionally exposing spoilers of her chest when she bent or moved. You tried to avert your eyes by distracting yourself with Miss Murdstone's hair. You made a soft, comfortable hairstyle as you did every night and got her nightclothes ready. You quickly helped her into them and afterwards she looked at you. Miss Murdstone gripped your chin and made you look up at her — you gazed into her eyes, finding it physically impossible to look away.

" What's the matter, girl?" Is it with regards to your ruined Christmas?" She asked sternly.

" No, Miss Murdstone. I am merely tired." You lied, feeling the grip on your chin loosen and she let go of you entirely.

" Then you are excused for the night." She dismissed you with a flick of her hand and you scurried out the room. You walked briskly down the hall and went to your small living space, getting ready for bed.

Mr Murdstone eventually left with his wife for their trip. The employees were dismissed — except for you. It was Christmas Eve and you busied yourself downstairs, preparing tea for Miss Murdstone who was knitting in the living room. You brought the tea to her with a small smile on your face.

" I made you chamomile, Miss Murdstone." You said, placing the tray down. Miss Murdstone sighed and put her knitting aside, taking the teacup from your hands. She looked at you for a short moment.

" Did you make yourself a cup?" She suddenly asked, sipping her tea and making direct eye contact with you. Only confidence and a blatant air lingered in her words. You frowned slightly and forced yourself to keep the eye contact with Miss Murdstone.

" No, I didn't think it was allowed." You explained shortly, busying yourself by unnecessarily cleaning the living room up.

" Don't be ridiculous, girl. It's Christmas Eve. Make yourself a cup of tea." Miss Murdstone ordered, sipping from her own cup and humming slightly in approval at the taste.

How could you refuse? You walked to the kitchen and made yourself a cup of tea, letting your fingertips trace the golden rim of the teacup. You drank your tea in the kitchen, not wishing to intrude in any manner. You initially felt immensely awkward: being alone in the same place as her.

In the evening, you and Miss Murdstone did your usual nightly routine. After her bath, she slooked to you. She left her nightgown open again, revealing teasing fragments of her slightly dampened body. It was too late in the evening for you to care about anything. You failed to avert your eyes from Miss Murdstone's body and you looked to her. She watched you with a slightly amused expression as she sat down at her vanity.

" Don't bother putting my hair up tonight." She said plainly, staring at you through the looking-glass.

You silently obeyed Miss Murdstone, finding the atmosphere extremely intimate — given that you were alone together and it was possibly the beginning of a very long evening. Jane watched your every move as you brushed through her hair. You admired how the dark strands fell over her pale skin and how her shoulders tingled with a shiver from the winter air.

" See something you like?" She asked, raising her eyebrow.

You quickly shut your eyes and looked down. You walked away and quietly began to clean up the conjoined bathroom. You didn't want to face Miss Murdstone. You coujdnt stand it. Not when you wanted to worship her so badly. Everything about her attracted you: her cold demeanor, her icy eyes, her melodic voice.

You spent a while in the bathroom, completely unaware that Miss Murdstone was watching you. " I've seen the way you look at me." She spoke up, making you jump slightly.

You immediately understood your words and stood up straight. Jane clasped her hands in front of her and you took a deep breath. " My apologies if I have come off as intrusive, my lady. I didn't mean it in a negative nor sinful way." You explained, trying to tone up the innocent act. Miss Murdstone silently walked up to you sjd gripped your chin for the second time that week.

" Don't lie to me." She looked down at you and you felt as though your knees were going to give way.

" My lady, I'm not." You lied.

" Jane." She corrected. You looked up at Jane for what seemed to be the first time. When she muttered her name, her voice was slightly softer — you wanted to melt right then and there.

" Jane, I'm sorry." You looked down, you couldn't bare to look at her. Not now. Not when she knew your thoughts.

" Say my name again." She ordered, leading you back into the candlelit bedroom.

" Jane. Jane. Jane. Jane." You whispered out. Tears fell down your cheeks. Jane wiped them away with her thumbs, not questioning them. She knew why you were crying: you were afriad, but you were also relieved that you didn't have the pressing burden of unconfronted guilt weighing you down.

" Stay with me tonight, if you will. It is pathetic to be alone on Christmas Eve." Jane whispered, her voice still cold. She made no attempt to comfort you but by that invitation alone, you were placated by her acceptance. She didn't turn you away. She invited you in.

You went back to your own room, getting ready for bed before going back to Jane. " Jane, I — what if someone finds out about this?" You asked, fidgeting with your fingertips, standing at the foot of the bed.

Jane looked to you. " Lie down, girl. And stop fussing." She commanded with slight annoyance. You quickly lay down next to Jane, wanting to obey her every command. You let your gaze linger and wander over her figure.

You noted how the nightgown carved itself over her soft skin — outlining every curve and muscle — emphasising every movement. The light from the candles casted a new perspective on her face, making the details on her cheeks and nose more evident. Her eyes shone from the fire. You noted the small wrinkles from her occasional smiles and the way her soft and slightly tired eyes moved as she looked at you. Her eyes wandered over you too, in utter silence you lay. She searched your eyes for and approval for a kiss and you nodded ever so slightly, eyeing out her soft pink lips.

Jane's hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you closer towards her. He lips ghosted like a confession over your own and you felt your body begging for mercy, which Jane gave — pressing her lips against yours, consuming your breath, colliding it with her own. She kissed you with an urgent softness that you attempted to match. Your hand found the back of Jane's head, the strands of her dark hair tangled between her fingers. You didn't want the moment to rot away, and neither did Jane. She deepened the kiss, needing more. Her tongue slipped inside your mouth and you moaned slightly at the feeling, making Jane smile. Your bodies pressed against each other, the candle light coated your figures with a fixed but flickering golden tranquility.

When Jane pulled away, she looked into your eyes and kissed your forehead. You melted against her and held her hand.

" May I take this further?" She asked. You looked to her and nodded. Jane lay you down and leant towards you, placing your hair behind your ear as she gently kissed you.

" I've never done—" you stopped yourself from uttering the words. You didn't want the moment to cease.

" That's okay. May I be your first?" Jane asked, looking up at you. A shadow of desire clouded her eyes.

" Yes please." You nodded and Jane made you lie down properly.

Your newfound lover undid the ribbon on your nightgown. She removed the garment from your body and slipped your arms out of the sleeves. Your cheeks burnt with self consciousness and you instinctively brought your arms up to your chest, trying to cover your hardened nipples. Jane looked into your eyes and gently pulled your hands away from your chest. She taoped your thigh gently with her index finger — making you lie down properly. Jane leant down and grasped one of your nipples between her lips, grazing the peaked bud with her teeth ever so gently. You moaned and whimpered slightly — frowning with need at the unusual but pleasurable sensation.

" Jane..." You fekt your breathing grow uneven when Jane circled your nipple with her tongue. She granted the same attention to the other one and placed a kiss on your neck, nibbling at it slightly.

Your hands wrapped around Jane's back and you pulled her in for a much-needed kiss. Jane trailed her kisses down your torso, sending shock waves of cold shivers through your touch-deprived body. You felt Jane's hands grope your figure gently, familiarising herself with your form. You wantonly bucked your hips when Jane placed a small kiss against your embarrassingly wet folds. You press your legs and laid your head back gently on the propped up pillow. Your eyes gazed down at Jane who wrapped her arms around your legs, pulling your hips up slightly so she could have better access.

" You smell delicious." Jane whispered against your throbbing cunt. Her lips wrapped around your clit and you let out a small needy moan, not knowing what to do with your hands. You fondled with the sheets, trying to stabilise your body as Jane continued to pleasure you, picking up the pace with her tongue against your clit. After a while, Jane decided to do something different. She entered her tongue inside you and you let out a louder moan of Jane's beautiful name. Her hands squeezed your thighs and she used her teeth to gently graze against your clit, making your hips huck again from the unexpected stimulation.

" Jane...oh my god...I feel so..." You moaned loudly, feeling Jane's chuckles vibrate against you. " Jane, something happening." You confessed shutting your eyes as you experienced a strange sensation in your lower abdomen.

Jane watched your every move, continuing to speed up her movements. " It's okay." She whispered against you."

You heard Jane's words and you let go. Your moans became slightly louder — you didn't recognise them. You have never sounded like this before — so desperate, so unforgiving of your previous deprivations. Your body spasmed slightly with the shocks of pleasure and the thought of Jane coursing through your mind as you squeezed your eyes shut, wanting to savour the moment.

Jane eventually slowed down her movements and looked up at you, her mouth letting go of your cunt. She crawled up to kiss you and you accepted the kiss desperately.

" Did you enjoy that?" Jane asked, caressing your neck.

You nodded and smiled, you gently flipped Jane over so she was lying down on the bed, taking your place. You straddled her waist and Janr looked up at you, slightly amused. " May I?" You asked hopefully.

" Yes." Jane nodded and lay back properly on the pillows. You watched her breathing grow more uneven with each kiss you planted on her delicate skin. She let out little gasps when you sucked on the sensitive spots.

Jane spread her legs for you and placed a pillow beneath her hips. You smiled and hesitantly nibbled at her clit, trying to mimic the way she did it. Jane let out a groan of approval and gripped harshly onto your hair, drawing a groan from you. You began to explore her cunt, every hidden corner and every sensitive nerve ending.

You carried on using your mouth, drawing moans from Jane until she mumbled the word: " fingers." She frowned and moaned, her eyes closed as she gave in to the pleasure when you entered a finger inside of her. Her warm wetness coating it.

" More." She moaned. You happily obeyed her and added a second digit before moving them in and out of her dripping cunt, curling them up. You found her g-spot and began massaging it in time with your tongue's movements. You began to move in a faster rhythm, adding more pressure as you heard Jane moan with every nip and flick of your tongue.

Jane's body began to tense and tremble slightly as she neared her orgasm. Every muscle in her body felt alive with sensation. Your mouth and fingers increased their pace, your fingers thrusted into her, finding her g-spot once more. With a cry of your name, Jane reached her climax. Her body shuddered as the pleasure washed over her veins — a purification — a rebirth of sorts that would make angels envious.

Jane began to calm down a bit and she looked to you with a soft smile, still breathing heavily. She beckoned you to come closer and you obeyed. You lay next to her and wrapped your arm hesitantly around her waist.

" Thank you." She whispered.

You smiled. " Thank you." You repeated back to her. Jane smiled slightly and kissed the top of your head, holding you gently.

You and Jane got ready for bed and eventually fell asleep in each others' arms. If you perished that night, you would be content. The confessions that melted off your lips that evening were the only hymns you would ever voice. You looked up at Jane to see that her eyes were closed and soft breaths escaped her slightly parted lips. You smiled and cuddled into her, enjoying the wamth that her body emitted. You blew out the candle and in the darkness, you heard Jane's light breaths and you mumbled one word that only mattered to you: Jane.

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

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