#18th floor balcony

[lets-dance-to-joy-division]

I hope you like sappy love songs, I'm in a sappy love song mood today. 💕 Side note, I went to a Blue October show a few years back with VIP tickets and Justin Furstenfeld is one of the nicest people I've ever met. Heart of gold this guy.

BL

18th Floor Balcony

Song by Blue October

.

"...And I raised my hand as if to show you that I was yours

That I was so yours for the taking

I'm so yours for the taking

That's when I felt the wind pick up

I grabbed the rail while choking up

These words to say and then you kissed me..."

[actualalligator]

Okay my music tastes live almost exclusively in 2005&2006, and I was reminded of this song today, but tell me why I want to write an alternative meeting where Eddie and Buck meet while Buck is en route to LA. Eddie is in Austin for something. Buck has recently returned from Peru and is driving his jeep to LA. But they meet and it's love at first sight. They spend the whole weekend together. Buck asks him to come with him to LA. But Eddie's married and, yeah it's been really rough with Shannon, but he's got a wife and kid; he can't go with Buck. And he sneaks out while Buck is asleep.

Think of these lyrics from Buck's perspective. He's known this man for two days, but he's never felt like this before. This is love.

I close my eyes And I smile, knowing that everything is alright To the core, so close that door Is this happening?

My breath is on your hair, I'm unaware That you opened the blinds and let the city in God, you held my hand And we stand Just taking in everything

And I knew it from the start So my arms are open wide Your head is on my stomach And we're, we're trying so hard not to fall asleep Here we are On this 18th floor balcony We're both flying away

So we talked about mom's and dad's About family pasts Just getting to know where we came from Our hearts were on display For all to see I can't believe this is happening to me

And I raised my hand as if to show you that I was yours That I was so yours for the taking I'm so yours for the taking That's when I felt the wind pick up I grabbed the rail while choking up These words to say and then you kissed me

I knew it from the start My arms are open wide Your head is on my stomach And we're, we're trying so hard not to fall asleep Here we are On this 18th floor balcony We're both flying away

And I'll try to sleep To keep you in my dreams 'Til I can bring you home with me I'll try to sleep And when I do I'll keep you in my dreams

I knew it from the start So my arms are open wide And your head is on my stomach And we're, we're trying so hard not to fall asleep So here we are On this 18th floor balcony, yeah

I knew it from the start So my arms are open wide Your head is on my stomach No, we're not going to sleep, sleep

Here we are On this 18th floor balcony, we're both Flying away

[philly-cityboy]

And I'll try to sleep

To keep you in my dreams

'Til I can bring you home with me

I'll try to sleep

And when I do I'll keep you in my, dreams

I knew it from the start

So my arms are open wide

And your head is on my stomach

And we're, we're trying so hard not to fall asleep

So here we are

On this 18th floor balcony, yeah

I knew it from the start

So my arms are open wide

Your head is on my stomach

No, we're not going to sleep, sleep

Here we are

On this 18th floor balcony, we're both

Flying away

[blushingguy]

“[..] So we talked about mom's and dad's About family pasts Just getting to know where we came from Our hearts were on display For all to see I can't believe this is happening to me And I raised my hand as if to show you that I was yours That I was so yours for the taking I'm so yours for the taking That's when I felt the wind pick up I grabbed the rail while choking up These words to say and then you kissed me [..]”

[naneki-maid]

And I knew it from the start So my arms are open wide Your head is on my stomach And we're, we're trying so hard not to fall asleep Here we are On this 18th floor balcony We're both, flying away

-Blue October

[prettyg1irlstears]

rafes friends teaching reader how to not be a pillow princess and make rafe feel good

i got it as bsf!rafe but if that’s wrong please let me know! maybe you meant kelce and topper? if yes lmk and i’ll write another one!

bsf!rafe teaching you how to take charge . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

warnings: use of alcohol, unprotected p in v, use of y/n (once), breeding, not proof read

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you were so excited when you ringed on your best friend’s doorbell after he invited you over to celebrate your 18th birthday. little did you know you two would end up drunk at the balcony of tannyhill after drinking wine for 2 hours straight.

and after one more bottle of wine, you find yourself clinging onto rafe, you don’t even know how or when the conversation turned so downhill.

“oh don’t tell me that your favorite position is missonary,” rafe chuckles and shakes his head, sipping on his glass.

“what? it’s nice.” you frown, hugging his arm as you lean into him, mind hazy from the wine.

“it’s nice for you ‘cause you don’t have to do anything. poor man’s doing all the work.” rafe states and looks down at you, smirking at the sight of you so touchy with him.

“i could take charge! i just prefer it this way.” you try to defend yourself, but deeo down you know you’re the prototype of ‘pillow princess’.

rafe scoffs. “of course you could.” he smirks, not believing you.

you frown, knowing he’s looking right through you. you whine and pull away from him.

“hey, look at me,” rafe slurs, gently taking your chin and turning your head back towards him. “there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, just admit that you’re a pillow princess.”

you just want to slap that stupid grin off his face. he’s just so..

“come on, you know you are,” *he teases as he rubs his thumb over your cheek bone. “just admit it.”

if you were drunk, you would probably pull away with blood rushing into your cheeks. but now, with the wine in your system, you’re just looking into his eyes with the prettiest doe eyes he has ever seen.

“fine, i am a pillow princess. but just because i’ve never..” you stop yourself. you don’t want to admit that. you know that your sex life is boring, but saying it out loud..

“you’ve never tried anything else?” rafe guesses, running his thumb over your plump lips.

“no..” you say quietly, looking away from him. but he takes your chin and makes you look at him again, and you feel yourself getting lost in those pretty eyes.

“i could teach you, y’know..” he says and rubs the tip of his nose against yours. your heart skips a beat, you breath catches in your throat.

“what??” you whisper. he chuckles, cupping your cheek.

“you heard me.” he whispers and leans in. you feel his lips touch yours, it’s just a small brush, small peck, but it’s enough for you to want to do unholy things with him, to want more.

and that’s how you end up in his bed. you don’t even know when you got from the balcony back inside, and you don’t even care.

he’s got you sat on his lap, kissing you slowly, breathing in your mouth as you run your hands through his hair.

his hand is in on your throat, not too tight to actually hurt you. his other hand was in your hair just a few seconds ago, but now it’s snaking down your spine until it reaches the zip of your sundress.

you hear the unzipping sound and suddenly you’re naked, your dress on the floor. you immediately cover your breasts, but he smiles and takes your hands, away from your tits.

“please don’t..” he whispers and leans down, placing wet kisses all over your neck, then collar bone, and finally on the most beautiful tits rafe has ever seen.

“so pretty..” he mutters against your skin and you can’t help but let out a tiny moan as you tug on his shirt. you get off of him for a second so he can take off his pants.

as soon as he’s naked too, the biggest cock you’ve ever seen reveals right in front of you. rafe chuckled when he sees your expression. “don’t worry, princess. i’ll make sure it fits.”

he fingers you for a while, making yure you cum on his long digits while placing wet kisses all over your neck and tits. you shamelessly ride his hand, squeezing his shoulders as you let out tiny moans.

“you’re ready.” rafe states, withdrawing his fingers from your pussy and putting them in your mouth. you suck and lick on them, tasting yourself while looking into his eyes.

you straddle his lap and take a deep breath. “okay princess, i’ll line up with you and you’ll slowly sink down, okay?” rafe instructs and you nod.

he lines up with you, like he said, and you look into his eyes. you slowly sink down on him, mouth opening as you feel him stretching you out.

“rafe—“ you whimper, sitting like this for a while, unable to move.

“fuck, princess. you’re so fucking tight.” he grunts, cupping your cheek. “now move.”

with tiny moans you slowly start moving up and down, looking into his eyes for reassurance. his hand wraps around your throat in frustration, a groan leaving his lips. “just like that, princess. nice and slow, you’re doing so good f’me.”

after a while you start to get more sure with your movement and increase the pace. desperate moans are leaving your mouth as you bounce on his cock, tits bouncing in sync with your movements as his hand tightens around your throat.

“fuck, princess..” rafe lets out a low groan, catching your lips in a fierce kiss. “doin’ so fucking good f’me..” he moans between kisses.

you start to get tired, your thighs are burning and your movements get sloppy. rafe feels that and decides to take charge. his hand leaves your throat and lands on your hip, holding himself for support with the other. he thrusts up into you, earning a loud moan from you.

“rafe.. i’m gonna..” you can’t even form a proper sentence as he thrusts up into you roughly, the knot in your belly threating to explode.

“yeah.. cum f’me princess..” he grunts, thrusting harder, making his tip kiss your cervix with each thrust.

“yes.. ah— ah.. rafe!” you moan out, pussy clenching around his cock, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you cum.

“fuck, princess.. want it inside?” he asks, his breathing harder as his thrusts get sloppy and you feel his cock twitching in your pussy.

“yes.. yes, rafe.. please..” you kiss his neck, moans leaving your mouth as you ride out your high.

“fuck.. oh— oh god—“ he grunts and with one last thrust, he exploded inside you, shooting loads of hot cum inside you.

small whimpers are leaving your mouth as you feel it, face in the crook of his neck as you’re being filled up by your best friend.

“jesus christ, y/n..” rafe whispers, still panting and still inside you as he runs his hand through your hair, giving you a soft kiss on the lips. “you did so good.”

“all thanks to you, rafe.” you whisper back, a smile on your lips as you brush his curtain bangs out of his face.

“yeah.. my good fucking girl.. can’t let anyone else have you now, can i?”

[miya-rin]

imagine being the miya twins older sister who has had suna rintarou fully enamoured with your existence since he first met you at 15 years old.

he has tried to make many moves on you over the years to no avail; sneakily trying to place his arms around your shoulder before one of your brothers notice and throw the nearest object they can grab his way. not letting you carry anything while hes around, claiming how “youll never have to lift a finger again” if you give him a chance. hell, even dropping down to the floor to tie your shoelaces the second he realises the laces have come loose, taking his time to stand back up afterwards as he slowly rakes his eyes over your figure so he can fully take in every inch of you. every attempt of his to make you swoon for him is met with “sorry sweetheart, still not into minors” and a small ruffle of his hair which gives him a dopey smile. you would think he would start to back off eventually but to your dismay every rejection you have handed to him has just made his desire for you grow stronger - he takes your words as “try again when youre 18”

which is exactly what he does. on his 18th birthday his friends decide to throw him a massive party - being the twins chaperone you had to come along and when suna set his eyes on you, you knew there was no chance of you escaping his antics. you catch him glancing at you multiple times throughout the night before he gets pulled away by one of his guests, a disappointed look in his eyes every time he had to look away from you.

after a couple of hours you decide to step outside onto the balcony to catch some fresh air seeing as there was no sign of the party dying down anytime soon. you’re outside for maybe 5 minutes when you hear the door slide open, you already know who its going to be seeing as he has been trying to catch you alone all night, you turn around to finally face the boy and he looks as ecstatic as ever.

“happy birthday suna.” you swear you can see his soul leave his body the second those words leave your mouth, its not the first time youve said it to him tonight - youre not that cruel as to not wish the poor boy a happy birthday on his special day - but everything that comes out of your mouth looks like it sends him to heaven and back.

“thankyou yn, i appreciate you being here, but then again, i know you cant spend more that a week away from me because youre just so obsessed with me.”

“wow, am i that easy to read?” you chuckle along with him, noticing the way his gaze doesnt stray away from your face while you face forward, “so, how does it feel finally being legal?”

“incredible, it means you can finally give me a chance.” he doesnt miss the way you sigh at his words.

“suna we’v-“

“i know that we’ve been over this, but i don’t really think you mean it,” this gains an eye roll from you, “plus, my one wish when i blew out my candles was that you would give me a kiss.”

“really? well i guess your going to have to go without this year.”

“it was my birthday wish, youre not gonna deny me that are you?”

“yknow if you tell your wish to someone it doesnt come true right?”

“yn…please,” his voice is barely above a whisper, he sounds desperate, “i have been waiting for three years, all i ask for is one kiss, just one.”

“i think youre forgetting that im 22 and you are freshly 18.”

“im still 18 though.”

“hm… you make a good point,” you see the way he perks up slightly at your evaluation, a hopeful look becoming more prominent in his eyes, “one kiss. let it be my official gift for the birthday boy.” you might have well as told him he had just one the lottery, anyone who walked past the sliding door would think you had due to the way his smile was so wide.

“thankyou” is all he can muster up before he is snaking his hand up your body and with a hand tangled up in your hair he leans down until his lips touch yours, you can feel the shit eating grin spread across his face as he gently moves his lips in sync with yours, pulling away slightly to whisper “best birthday ever” before leaning back in <3

[painted-bees]

[cw: explicit content🔞]

March 18th 2009

  The top floor balcony of the humble recording studio overlooked a small backroad. It was just high enough to grant a view over the roofs of surrounding buildings, out towards the mountains, across the harbour. But thick cloud cover and the darkness of night collaborated to hide the Rockies from sight this evening. Instead, Raf’s gaze washed impassively over the array of city lights that extended across the harbour and disappeared into the distant North Vancouver neighbourhoods. He took a sip from the bottle of water in his hand and invited the evening chill to sober him up. 

  Behind him, the din of party revelry outcompeted the exterior ambiance of late-night city traffic. Hi-Note wasn’t usually so lively this close to midnight. Its business hours only ran until 8pm at the latest, and, save for the evenings when he used to jam here with Magritte, Raf usually had the place vacated and locked up within that same hour.

  Today was a special occasion. It was the junior technician, Herbie’s, birthday. Since he had little where else to celebrate, Nels had hosted a surprise party for him in the studio. It wasn’t the first birthday Herb had celebrated in Vancouver, but it was the first birthday following a rather heartbreaking split with his once-steady girlfriend. The usually jovial lad had been, understandably, a lot more quietly introspective over the past few months. Once Nels had gained the knowledge that Herb had no big, exciting birthday plans this year, the rest was inevitable.

  Raf had driven to work, and wholly planned to drive back home. Towards that end, he enjoyed his drink and smoke early, cut himself off early, and was now finally feeling clear minded enough to collect Margie and call it a night. Intending to do exactly that, Raf turned towards the sliding door of the balcony, downing his last gulp of water. And–discovered that Margie had found him first.

  A smug grin and a playful wave preceded her sliding open the door. She stepped out onto the balcony, pulling the door shut behind her. “Ey, nice hiding spot, Ephrem!” She rubbed her hands together, watching her breath hang in the chilly air as she approached him. 

  Raf relented to leaning back against the balcony railing as Magritte dropped her elbows on it, beside him. “I was just about to go in and get you.”

  She sighed and looked out across the harbour. “Past your bedtime?”

  “Nah, the party’s winding down anyway. But I kinda wish I found you out here sooner. This view is really nice.” She sighed wistfully. “Glittery.”

  He provided a self-depreciating smirk. You could set your watch to Raf’s night time routine and, typically, if he wasn’t in bed between eleven and eleven-thirty, he’d be grumpy if there wasn’t a good reason for it. A birthday, he supposed, was as good a reason as any.

  “If you’re not ready to head home yet…” He allowed his easy capitulation to hang unspoken in the space between them.

  Raf made no motion to herd her back inside. Instead, he placed his empty water bottle down by his feet and then settled further against the railing. He wasn’t worried about waiting much longer out here. Magritte had a low tolerance for cold, and the chilly March breeze would chase her back inside within a reasonable amount of time. Still, he didn’t want to give her the sense he was in any kind of hurry. Genuinely, he wasn’t. 

  “Yanno, this is the weirdest place I’ve ever worked at.” Magritte furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “Just a bunch of guys being pals, but also…not weird about it. And stuff gets done. And I–” She turned to look at him, “I help with that. Like, actually!” She turned her back to the landscape, electing to mirror Raf’s posture. “Okay, this sounds stupid but like…I’ve never felt good at a job before. Not just that, I’ve been proactive? I get to do stuff before someone has to ask me to do it? And, I do it properly? Wild. Nels even likes me!” She beamed up at him. “He called me ‘Supergirl’ today after hearing the vocal mixing I did for Cybele Fray.”

  “Yeah…” Magritte pressed her palms against her cheeks and smooshed her face in a pensive gesture that wasn’t intended to look as silly as it did. “I’m worried I’ll lose interest and pitter out eventually. But until then, I’ll just enjoy feeling useful. And smart.”

  Raf favoured her with a smirk, and wrinkled his brow in substitute for a shewed shrug. “Nels loved you the minute he saw you. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the first job you feel competent at is the first job that has you working with audio and such. You’re doing what you like doing.”

And, Raf thought, employed by someone who actually knows how to manage you.

It’s true that Hi-Note made excellent use of Margie’s savant-like skills, but not all of it had been absolutely enthralling to her. A bored Margie was difficult to keep on task, but somehow Nels had managed to navigate her ‘on again, off again’ pattern of productivity. Largely, Raf noticed that Nels cycled her off monotonous tasks before they had a chance to bore her–no matter their state of completion. And then, he’d put her back on it as soon as she looked ready to smooth her brain on something simple and repetitive again. Raf had taken that observation–and applied it at home. Very quickly, he helped her build a habit of taking just one dish out of the sink, washing it, and putting it away, any time she found herself in the kitchen during a moment of aimless roving. Not always, mind you…but often enough. One thing at a time, and the order of it doesn’t matter.

  Raf considered whether or not he ought to affirm to her for the umpteenth time that she was one of the most brilliant people he had ever met. But the window of opportunity closed when she continued talking. 

  “Life’s been really…easy this year, so far. Like, the easiest it’s ever been. I like it. A lot.” She turned her eyes up to him with an unspoken question that he couldn’t quite read.

  “Same.”

  “Really?” Her questioning gaze pressed further.

  Raf measured her for a moment.

  Yet–there she was.

  Until she showed up, he had been living alone in a two bedroom, downtown apartment; a feat of luxury by Vancouver standards. He’d have described it as a relatively ‘small’ space; each room was big enough to fit a bed, a dresser, a night stand, and little else. But, two bedrooms were still two bedrooms. Near Yaletown, no less. Truth be told, the income he was making at Hi-Note would not have been enough to afford it, if he had to rely on it alone. But he had been rather uncompromising about having a spare room for guests–until Magritte moved in. Now, that room was hers; guests be damned.

  It was a bit strange to think about. Generally, Raf preferred being alone. He found that living with anyone else always came with more stress than it was worth; whether it was with a steady romantic partner, or a family member. He was fairly certain that he’d never lend himself to the horrors of rooming with a friend who barely knew him. The very idea had felt like a violation against the sanctity of his home–the one place he could withdraw and hide into when he needed the peace and quiet to sort himself out. He didn’t trust family nor lovers to respect his space when he most needed it. A roommate as impersonal as a friend would have been much worse, and for absolutely nothing.

  He had first invited Magritte to crash at his place on an impulse. Though he feared the precedent it may have set, she didn’t overstay her welcome. In fact, she had barely stayed at all. That hadn’t surprised him nearly as much as his resulting disappointment had. And so, he invited her again. And again. And again. And each time, he confirmed for himself that she was simply…good company. He slept easier on the nights she occupied the guest room. His mood each morning felt buoyed by her presence, even before she emerged to greet him in the kitchen. He just liked talking to her. The baseline of her mood seemed to always be several levels more pleasant than his own, and the way she carried her joviality made it infectious, not grating. Even on the mornings when she had shuffled into the kitchen muttering a preemptive apology for her irritable mood, she had been sweet about it.

  Magritte did something to his brain chemicals that medications just couldn’t compete with. But what that was exactly, he had no god damn clue. The only other thing he could think of that would come close to eliciting the same kind of response from him–might have been something like…having a box of fluffy kittens gently dumped on him. Maybe that’s what she was to him; a box of sweet, soft, wobbly kittens–personified. It would certainly explain the cuteness-aggression she often provoked; that overwhelming desire to just scrunch her up into a little ball and tear her apart with his teeth…affectionately.

  Oftenly, so did she.

  Now she had her own key to the apartment and, over the winter, the guest bedroom had slowly been transformed into her disorderly, war-torn little nest. A true nightmare to behold for all the clutter and chaos; clothing haphazardly strewn across every inch of floor, and a plethora of dirty cups and plates on–and around–the nightstand by her bed.

  Strangely, it didn’t bother him. She had warned him of her negligent cleanliness habits well in advance. In fact, she had initially cited it as her reason for not wanting to overstay at his place. In response, he had given her the room to do with as she pleased–on the sole condition that she kept the door closed and ensured her mess never breached containment. If he didn’t like it, he simply didn’t have to look at it. Aside from leaving dishes in the sink (and occasionally on the living room coffee table), Magritte had been pretty good at maintaining her end of the bargain. By and large, her messes stayed confined to her room.

  When it came to the matter of Raf coveting his peace and quiet, Magritte had proven to be no trouble at all. That was remarkable, considering how loud she was in almost everything she did. But, most evenings after work, she straight up ignored him. She spent her time holed up in her bedroom, playing music and browsing the internet. Raf had once expressed appreciation for Margie’s unobtrusiveness–and was met with a mixture of disbelief and tremendous relief from her. Apparently, most others hadn’t found the same kind of comfort he did in a roommate that happily kept to themselves. She had grown accustomed to worrying that her ‘shut-in’ behaviour was excessive and inconsiderate, because if someone didn’t come and pull her away from her hobbies, she was liable to get lost in her solitary activities for hours. For Raf’s part, he was just content knowing she was there if he felt in need of company, but rarely did he feel compelled to call upon her for it. He liked her little routine of being present in the mornings, joining him for lunch, winding down with him for an hour after work, and then emerging once more for dinner before they both disappeared to their respective corners of the apartment for the rest of the evening–until bedtime.

  While Magritte spent the days in her room, she developed a habit of spending most of her nights in his bed. He accepted the blame for that. Generally preferring to sleep in cooler temperatures, he neglected to consider that his love for a brisk chill wasn’t universally shared. To his quiet horror, he learned one morning that Margie’s feet were often corpse cold. The nail beds on her toes would turn purple from poor circulation, she’d get sensitive little blisters under the skin, and the ache of being chilled through the bone would keep her awake at night. Genuinely, the bones in her feet were colder than the ambient temperature. He wouldn’t have thought it possible if he hadn’t felt the impossible iciness of her skin with his own hands.

  She had laughed, telling him that this was just how things always were for her during the winter months. It’s why she so greatly preferred the sweltering heat of summer. And that’s when Raf offered to let her cosy up in his bed. He always felt too warm at night, and she had literal ice blocks for feet. The solution seemed pretty obvious to him.

  And so, she had spent most of the winter nights with her feet pressed against his back, tucked behind his knees, or sandwiched between his legs. That same arrangement led Raf to discover that sleep came easy when he had something–or someone–to curl his arms around at night. And just like that, over the course of three short months, Magritte had nearly extinguished his reluctant dependence on sleeping medication. 

  As far as roommates were concerned, Magritte was…an unusual one. If he had tried to explain any of the peculiar details about their mutual arrangements to literally anyone else, he knew what it all sounded like. He had considered that maybe he was attracted to Margie; head-over heels in love with her. The problem was, he had been in love before. It made him stupid. And it made him unmanageably paranoid. Weird elation tangled with exhausting, antagonising suspicion; the highest highs and lowest lows. Margie didn’t make him stupid nor particularly paranoid. In fact, he had been able to navigate her with a level of clear-minded ease that was somewhat unusual to him. Perhaps it was in the way she spoke plainly and honestly with him. Despite how hard he looked for it, there was never any hidden nuance to the things Magritte said, wanted, or felt.

  Paranoia still sunk its hooks into him the same way he had grown to expect it–but a different part of him, a voice of reason that he had been working hard to cultivate, granted him a very small, very rare sense of satisfaction when he turned it to Margie’s defence. So he cared for her, at the very least. But she didn’t burden him with the dizzying gauntlet of infatuation. He wasn’t in love with her.

  But she was easy to be with. And, under her influence, life had felt much kinder.

  “Yeah, really.”

  Raf watched relief wash over Margie’s features, and she let out a little chuckle. “Oh, good. ‘Cus, yanno…usually, if I’m having a good time, it’s ‘cus someone else is running themselves ragged for it. And I don’t want you to–”

  “I promised I’d tell you if things ever started feeling off,” Raf cut in. “It’s been weird, but not off-putting. I’ve liked it, so far.”

  Her eyes held him with an expression he couldn’t quite identify, something close to tearful. But there was a delighted, grateful reverence in her gaze that wounded him in a peculiar way. He felt compelled to soothe it.

 “Hey.” Impassively, he pushed himself off the balcony railing to stand and turn towards her. “Can I try something?”

  Her mouth twitched upward in a quizzical smirk. “What?” Raf tilted his head to one side, and leaned in just enough to spur a response from her, “Oh-! Yeah? Yeah!? Ok, yes!”

  He kissed her. 

  If he liked it? If it made him uneasy? If it did anything for him, at all?

  It was a soft, gentle, fleeting little gesture; he didn’t hold it for more than a second. It was just a taste, to see–

 To see what?

  He lingered as he considered it, and just barely had time to register the broad grin on Magritte’s face before he felt her warm hands cup his jaw. She pulled him into another, far more impassioned kiss of her own–and he met her lips with the energy to match.

  As her fingers snaked around the back of his neck, he felt his hair raise beneath her touch. He leaned into her more bodily, bracing against the railing with a firm, steadying grasp. He hadn’t intended anything more than a chaste little peck, but he felt Margie’s soft lips part to invite his tongue, and was loath to leave her wanting. Her fingers ran up the back of his head, combing through his hair, and then curled back down to tenderly caress behind his ears.

  A thrill of warmth originating from her hands shivered through his body–to his groin. It coaxed a surprised purr out of his throat, and he caught it in his mouth before turning into a snort through his nose. He broke the kiss, pulling away from Magritte’s grasp to drop his forearms onto the cold balcony railing beside her, curling over himself to rest his forehead atop them.

  There was a moment of silence as Raf found himself more thankful than ever for the chill evening breeze. And then Margie’s tentative voice met his ear.

  “S-sorry. I got…I got a little carried away.”

  Raf reluctantly lifted his head to shoot her a self-deprecating smile. “Not just you.” 

  He watched her brow furrow with concerned bewilderment for a brief moment before the combination of details clicked in her mind.

  “Oh-!” Her eyes grew wide with mischievous delight, “I gave you a boner!” The exclamation came as hushed as she could manage, but her triumphant grin spoke volumes. 

  He shut his eyes in a beleaguered wince. “Don’t sound so pleased.” He opened them again when he felt her lean against his arm.

  She tilted her head to catch his gaze, and wore a cheeky smile. “We can go home and do something about it, if you want.”

  Hold on, now. “Nnn…”

  Well, maybe?

  He cast her an incredulous look. 

  “Or not!” She pulled back with an exaggerated shrug. “I know people get weird about that kinda thing–or–maybe I’m weird about it. I dunno, I’ve never been bothered by, uh…” The sentence dissolved into a weak chuckle, and her cheeks flushed pink under the faint, warm lighting that emanated from within the studio.

  Raf had never been one for casual flings. Some manner of romantic attachment had always been prerequisite before the idea of sex could carry any appeal to him at all. But then again, he never had a friend as openly straightforward as Margie before. She was as uncomplicated as they came, and Raf recklessly wondered if that would at all be compromised by taking up the offer she had just presented to him. It felt irresponsible to even consider it, but…

  Your stupid fingers in my hair got me feeling some kind of way.

  Embarrassing, how easily he had been turned on. But then again, it had been a fair few years since anyone had touched him like that and, woe betide him, a man was still a man after all.

  It was wrong about Margie. And if it wasn’t, well.

  And then there was the matter of Margie’s confidence. He liked the kiss–he obviously liked the kiss. Her ensuing proposition wasn’t a wholly unwelcome one, either. But, for someone who claimed she wasn't able to read between the lines with people, she was an expert adept at reading far too much into anything that could be perceived as a rejection. She had escalated things, but he had started it–and he didn’t want her to feel shame for reciprocating the way she had. The awful, feral part of his brain that he loathed screamed like a banshee; the usual chorus about ulterior motives and emotional manipulation. It was wrong, of course. It was always wrong.

  Except for when it wasn’t.

  If I die, I die. Fuck.

  “Sure, let's try it on.” 

  Margie stared up at him with those wide, blue eyes, but her brow was tense with uncertainty. “Really?”

  He provided a small shrug. “We already share a bed. This’ll just be another weird thing we do in our growing list of weird things. Maybe we’ll change our mind on the way home. But at the very least, I wouldn’t mind another kiss or few.” To illustrate his point, he leaned in and pressed his lips sweetly against her forehead. 

  When he pulled away, Margie stood up straight and bounced on her heels, holding her face in her hands. “Okay, okay! Yeah!” She darted towards the door and slid it open. “I’ll go get my coat, and–!”

  She stopped short of scurrying inside, and turned to ensnare him in a tight little hug. Raf didn’t have time to close his arms around her in response before she broke away from him again to scamper down the hall. He stared after her for a bewildered moment as she disappeared around the corner, towards the stairs.

  By the time he caught up with her again, she was already downstairs saying her farewells to the Hi-Note crew. She wrapped Herb up in an energetic hug that he happily reciprocated. 

  A large hand clapped Raf on the back before a familiar voice behind him asked, “Everything good?”

  He turned to see Nels favouring him with a warm smile. 

  “Yeah, I was just…” He pointed a loose finger towards the ceiling, “taking a moment.”

  Of everyone in the room, Nels was the only person who knew about Raf’s disorders. He was the first glimpse Raf ever had of what a ‘proper’ father was supposed to look like. The man was raising three daughters at home and brought that same air of patient, fatherly responsibility into the office with him each day. Raf, in particular, had been adopted by him as a kind of nephew. Nels was a best friend to his Uncle Bill, and Bill trusted him to help Raf settle into a good circle of friends and acquaintances. Raf had been reluctant to grow familiar with anyone who wasn’t his Uncle, but with a significant amount of encouragement from both his Uncle and his therapist, Raf stuck it out with Hi-Note through the several occasions he had been tempted to quit on a bad vibe, misinterpreted comment, or fearful hunch. So far, it had been working out favourably for him. The pay wasn’t great, but Raf didn’t need the income of a steady job. Rather, his therapist had been right to say that getting out of the house and expanding his ‘library of positive experiences’ was much better for his health than isolating himself at home, rotting under the grimey weight of his paranoid assumptions and suspicions.

  “You got a piece of cake, right?” Nels fished for an excuse to keep Raf around. 

  “Nah, Margie scarfed down enough for both of us.”

  Reeling back with a dissatisfied but good humoured growl, Nels insisted, “Oh, you gotta try this one. The icing is–”

  “Too sweet,” Raf cut in with a defusing laugh. “I had a bite. It’s good, but a taste was plenty.” 

  “It’s already midnight,” Margie’s voice interjected, “If Raf had it his way, he’d have been in bed an hour ago. Cake ain’t gonna fix that.” 

  “Bah!” Nels waved them both off, defeated. “Fine, go. Get out of my building, you kids don’t know how to have fun anymore.” 

  “Fun? In this economy?” Margie clutched imaginary pearls before her expression of mock dismay dissolved into a grin and she opened her arms for a parting hug.

  Nels swooped down to envelop her, and for a moment his broad body fully eclipsed her from Raf’s view. “Drive safe, be good. See you on Monday.” He pulled away from Margie, turning his gaze to make sure the sentiment landed with Raf as well.

  Raf provided a lopsided smirk and a gesture that was something between a wave and a salute. A chorus of goodbyes followed him and Margie out the front doors of Hi-Note studio, and Margie waved back over Raf’s shoulder until the doors closed behind them.

  “I like them,” she said with a happy sigh.

  “Yeah.” Raf led the way to his little, dark blue sedan parked against the street curb and watched her shuffle gleefully towards the passenger side. “They like you, too.”

  Hard not to.

  He got into the car and turned on the engine.

–

  The ride home was tricky for Magritte as she tried hard to temper her expectations. Raf was a skittish person by nature, and she had to be very careful about not overwhelming him or applying too much pressure with her eager enthusiasm. Any time he felt like he had put himself into a corner by overpromising or obligating himself too irrevocably to something, his instinct was to escape it–no matter what ‘it’ was. But there was nothing irrevocable nor obligatory about her offer to sleep with him tonight. Not ‘sleep’ in the literal sense of the word, for once. No, if he let her, she was going to suck his spirit out through his dick and fuck him into the ground. Good god, she had been wanting this for months.

  But Raf, being Raf, was liable to change his mind at the very last minute. And if he did, she wasn’t going to take it personally. She wasn’t. Nor would she be upset, nor disappointed, nor in any way disparaging about it. The most she could do was make sure not to push the topic too eagerly on the way home, and to avoid offering up any obstacles that might serve to dissuade him. 

  …Which made it very difficult for her to bring up one particular topic of concern before they had passed by the last 7/11 and it was too late.

  “I guess, um…Should we pick up condoms? I can run in and get them.”

  She held her breath as she watched him consider the question for a moment.

   Funnily enough, it wasn’t a matter of protecting against diseases. They both had a clean bill of health, and came to know that about each other when she experienced a rare episode of anxiety regarding the last guy she had stayed with. In her weird panic, she greatly overshared a plethora of details to Raf. He had been remarkably cool about it, and walked her through the entire process of getting tested–something he was no recent stranger to.

  Rather, she didn’t want to tempt fate on getting knocked-up; not when life was just starting to become enjoyable again. The idea of pregnancy was a lovecraftian horror to her, and the stress of dealing with something like that to any extent just wasn’t worth the gamble. She was on the pill, yes…but even that wasn’t guaranteed protection. And, with how often she forgot to take it, she wasn’t sure it protected her at all. 

  “I mean…” Raf began, hesitantly.

  Magritte spared him the trouble. “Or not, if it’s a pain in the ass.” She shrugged with a disarming little laugh. “It’s a bit out of the–”

  Raf cut her off. “No, it’s fine, we absolutely can. It’s just that I’m–” Without taking his eyes off the road he produced a scissor-snipping motion with his fingers.

  Margie stared for a bewildered moment before her brain picked it up. “Wait, what? Really? Why?” She had leaned towards him with that last question before realising it was probably a shitty thing to ask.

  But, if it bothered Raf, he showed no sign of it. “I don’t want kids, and I had…an unpredictable ex.” 

  “Oh!” Margie had the good sense not to press him further, and leaned back into her seat. She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Well, lucky me.”

  She delighted in the humoured snort she coaxed from him. His easy smile and relaxed posture assured her that he wasn’t grappling with any second thoughts.

  That won a sidelong glance from him. “So..?”

  “Straight home, garçon!” She chopped one hand into the palm of the other with mock urgency. “The minutes are precious!”

  And indeed, though he had kept his hands to himself for much of the ride home, and in the elevator up to his apartment, Magritte found herself pressed between his body and the door to his flat as he warmed her with a voraciously weighty kiss. She received it gratefully. The heat of him, the molten softness of his lips, the scruffy, tickling hairs of his chin–

  She hadn’t realised that his free hand–the one not curled amorously around her body–had been busy unlocking the door. She’d have staggered backwards when it opened, had Raf not preemptively braced her with the arm that held her.

  He broke the kiss in order to assure that their half-stumble into the apartment didn’t devolve into a full stumble. But still, he kept a steadying arm around her, and she rewarded the preservation of closeness by pressing a string of kisses down his neck and towards his collarbone. Her hands had found their way beneath both his jacket and t-shirt, the flesh of his torso hot against her forearms and fingertips.

  She heard the door close shut behind them, and the familiar sound of the keys dropping onto the counter before the hand that had been holding them cupped the side of her head. She felt his lips press against the opposite temple.

  She had been able to kick off her shabby, loose-fitting boots without pause, but she reluctantly peeled herself away from Raf in case he wanted to take his sneakers off with a little more care. And, perhaps…to give him some space to think. Taking the opportunity to remove her jacket, she chucked it haphazardly across the couch.

  Raf was measuring her with a gaze when she turned back towards him.

  “Second thoughts?” Her smirk carried a cheeky confidence that worked hard to cover the self-conscious tone in her voice. 

  “No.” His bewildered inflection and raised eyebrows explained plenty; he had expected to turn against the idea by now.

  “It’s a bit impulsive,” Magritte conceded.

  Raf provided a slow nod, “It is…”

  “I’d really like it, though.”

  “I want you to.” He seemed to chew on that for a moment, as though it had answered something for him.

  There was an awkward standoff while neither of them moved, and in that brief moment, Magritte deeply regretted putting the space between them. Finally, Raf approached her and placed a kiss onto her forehead while his hands gently teased the elastic tie out of her nest of auburn curls. She wrapped her palms around the back of his neck as she felt her hair fall loose from the messy bun it had been wrangled into.

  “Promise me this won’t fuck anything up.” His voice was low and quiet in her ear. The pleading tone was only amplified by the lingering manner in which his cheek rested against the side of her head. His warm breath against her slightly chilled skin inspired goosebumps.

  She pulled back to look him squarely in the eyes. This was far from being her first tryst with a friend, and she knew herself well in this regard. “I promise it won’t! Not for me, but…” She offered an apologetic half-smile. “I can’t promise it won’t change things for you; I don’t control how you react. So, really. Really, really, really–if you’re not sure, then I’d rather…not. I like things the way they are. I like doing things with you. To me, this is just another thing I like doing that I think would be really fun to do with you. Not at the expense of anything else, though.”

  He searched her features with a scrutinising stare, and she didn’t shy away from it.

  “Nothing changes,” He asserted, “we’re just friends.”

  “Good friends,” she offered back with an impudent grin.

  He mirrored her expression with a scoff and a lopsided smirk of his own. “The friendsiest friends.”

  “But, friends just the same.”

 Her conviction was rewarded with another kiss, his lips melting against hers as she felt the tension in his muscles evaporate through a sigh. Her hands glided up his arms, over his shoulders, and around to the back of his neck. As she gently combed her fingernails through his hair, she remembered that delightful little noise she had coaxed out of him on the balcony. What had done it? Was it the kiss? Or…

  Her fingers traced the contours of his scalp and, as she curled them towards her palm, they lightly caressed the back of his ears. Her thumbs smoothed over the muscles of his jaw, but before she completed the gesture, he broke away from her.

“Alright, friend.” He curled his upper lip to flash teeth at her in a playful snarl. “Get your lily white ass into the bedroom before the last brain cell navigating my good manners is starved of oxygen.” He turned her toward the hall, and a pat of his hand against her butt provided her with all the motivation she needed to oblige his request. 

  She whisked herself down the hall into his room, and left the door just slightly ajar for him. She knew he wasn’t going to follow her right away. He had his evening habits to tend to; checking the door, setting the thermostat, turning out the lights, and taking his meds with a tall glass of water. It would have been silly of her to think that the promise of tits and ass would throw him off routine.

  Magritte took the opportunity to shed her clothes, throwing off her shirt and wiggling out of her tight tank top–a personal compromise for her disdain for bras. She shimmied out of her denim shorts and leggings both in the same gesture. Her underwear, though, was of a cute, boyish design and she decided she’d give Raf the satisfaction of peeling them off her, if he so wished to.

  Wait, just the underwear? Is that weird? She considered putting the tank top back on, and failed to gather the motivation for it. And so, she settled upon a better idea. Grabbing one of his t-shirts out of the second drawer of his dresser, she pulled it on, over her head. Hell yeah, guys love this shit.

  No sooner had she put on his shirt than he walked in to see her wearing it. She turned to him with a sheepish grin, tugging the bottom hem over her thighs. 

  Taking a sip from the glass of water in his hand, Raf clocked the shirt and favoured her with a humoured hum. “Comfy?”

  She provided a coy nod, and, before she could do much else, he abandoned his glass on the top of the dresser to close the distance between them. His arms caught her up into more of a ‘scrunch’ than a proper hug, and he came down on her with a frustrated growl, burying his entire face into the side of her neck with the sound of exaggerated chomping. The combination of lightly grazing teeth and his rough chin against her skin elicited a startled yelp from her before sending her into a fit of uncontrolled giggles as she was effortlessly bowled over onto the bed.

  “I changed my mind.” He snarled, “I’m gonna eat you, instead. Hungry, horny, it’s all the same.”

  “It’s not, though!” Her words were barely intelligible, warbling with laughter. 

  As she struggled in vain to wedge a hand between the soft flesh of her throat and his coarse goatee, his mock gnashing softened into playful kisses. Regaining her composure and chasing away her giggles by clearing her throat, she snaked her hands beneath his shirt.

  “I’m worth more to you undevoured, I promise.”

  “Remains to be seen,” Raf muttered into the hollow beneath her ear.

  “Well…let's see.”

  Her thumbs smoothed over the trail of body hair from belt line to belly button, before her palms passed broadly over the front of his stomach, around his sides, and up his back. Digging her fingers into his shoulder blades, she tilted her chin back and drew in a long breath as his lips travelled down her neck, towards her collar bone.

  Distracted by the pleasant textures of his mouth, Magritte’s attention hadn’t followed his travelling hands–until she felt the heel of his palm press broadly against her clit through the fabric of her underwear. Instinctively, her thighs tightened around him, and her hands abandoned their near-completed task of unbuttoning his jeans; grasping the waistline instead. She coiled into his touch as his palm lifted away to drag his fingertips lightly up, towards the top hem of her panties. From there, they slipped easily under the close-hugging fabric to sink into the warm folds between her legs.

  Raf’s firm, steadying grasp around her ribcage slid up to appreciate the soft, pliable curves  of her breasts hidden beneath the fabric of her shirt. His fingers teased the hardened nipples while she manoeuvred her lower body beneath him. She freed her legs out from under his lap so that her thighs hugged around his hips and, in swift order, she ghosted her hands down to find his belt. As she worked to unbuckle it, his mouth caught hers. His tongue teased her lips apart and she welcomed it with her own.

  His kisses had a soft, buttery quality reminiscent of a girl she once loved, and it was a feeling she treasured. His lips, smooth and warm, melted against the tense contours of hers in a sensasion she could only describe as ‘creamy and comforting’.

  She felt his fingers tease her apart, and they traced the contours of her sex with gentle confidence, exploring her geography. Though his mouth worked fervently against her lips, throat, and collar bone, his touch between her legs was restrained and methodical. She had expected him to plunge knuckle deep into the first hole he found–as men in her experience were typically inclined to. But his fingers only teased her entrance before gliding back up her moistened crease to find–

  “Oh-!” Margie flinched as a shock jolted her body. Not painfully, but in a manner comparable to having an icecube suddenly pressed against her, unexpected.

  Raf stilled the moment she had tensed.

  “Sensitive.” His observation was murmured into the crook of her neck before he purred more audibly into her ear, “Sorry, love.”

  She paused. His fingers had begun to work firm, broad circles around her clit in a way that, at first, didn’t feel like it was doing anything special for her. But quickly, she felt a building pressure begin to heat her core.

  Sensitive?

  She wasn’t, though. In the past, complaints had been made that she took too long to get off. Her previous fling had joked that only a jackhammer could provide the adequate stimulation she needed. When it came to sex, she knew herself as a veritable puzzle box of distractibility and dulled senses. It meant excellent stamina and fun sensations, but a proper orgasm delivered in a timely manner required her own effort more than the effort of her partner.

  “No, no,” she began placatingly, “you didn’t–”

  That same heat rose up to prickle her chest and cheeks. Margie pressed her mouth against the top of his shoulder to muffle a reverent, “Motherfucker.” 

  That was not the appropriate choice of words to praise him with, but that’s what forced its way out of her throat. He had found that sweet spot almost as easily as she might have found it herself, which led her to the realisation that she had been robbed–robbed–by previous lovers. What the everloving fuck.

  She couldn’t help but let out a confounded little chuckle into the fabric of his shirt, and he responded with an amused little “Mmh.”

  Without even meaning to, she had tensed her grip around him. Her arms held him tight, with handfuls of his shirt balled into her fists. Her legs had constricted around his waist and the leverage they provided allowed for the needy manner in which her hips writhed to meet his firm and steady touch. It was a greedy moment while she abandoned her attempts at reciprocation, intent on appreciating the way Raf kneaded her between his fingers. Her long drawn sighs of pleasure slowly devolved into a breathy panting–which fell into near perfect synchrony with his purposeful, hastening strokes between her thighs. 

  If she had been paying attention to her breathing, if she had noticed when her voice began releasing a single, ragged note every few breaths, she might have asked for pause. But, she hadn’t been paying attention to anything other than the growing warmth between her legs and the tense swell of pressure gathering in the very pit of her stomach. And it grew, hotter and hotter, with each purposeful, dexterous stroke of his fingers. Oh–she was sensitive, now. Between her thighs, she could feel every small vibration that met her. The way his fingers worked pleased not just her clit, but the rest of her aroused sex as well. Every small movement he pressed into her, she felt across the entire organ. Her thighs closed around his waist as she lifted her hips to find her pleasure against his fingertips. She felt the muscles of her stomach draw tight.

  A sharp gasp preceded a short, trembling “Ah-!” that escaped with her breath. All that tension, that gathering pressure, broke like a wave through her body. It had built up so quickly that the orgasm took her by complete surprise, and she writhed against Raf’s fingers as she rode it out; her face buried into the crook of his neck, eyes shut tightly.

  She didn’t relax her body nor lift her head as the ripples of pleasure subsided, but she felt Raf’s fingers withdraw from her.

  “Hey.” Raf’s voice crooned in her ear, and his hands on her waist pressed her lightly back, coaxing her to release him from the death-grip she held him in.

  Reluctantly, she unfurled from him, uncoiling her arms, and dropping her knees to hang off his outer thighs. The rough texture of denim against  the back of her calves reminded her that he still had his pants on. She came, and he was still wearing pants.

  She hazarded a sheepish glance up towards his face, and was met with a modestly small smile, made very smug by the upward arch of his eyebrows.

  “That’s what you get for the balcony boner, you little shit.” 

  Raf lifted himself off her, but she grabbed the front of his shirt with flustered defiance. “We’re not done!”

  “You sure?” His incredulity wasn’t the least bit sincere. “Because it seemed to me like you–”

  “No!” She scrambled to sit on her knees atop his bed and jabbed a demanding finger towards his waist. “Take your pants off!”

  He hesitated, and for a moment, Margie genuinely worried he’d say ‘nah’. But instead, he leaned in for another kiss and obliged her command. The sound of his belt clattering outcompeted the sultry feeling of his lips for her attention, and her eager gaze turned automatically to assess what she was working with. 

  She had expected to see an aching erection. Usually, by the time the pants came off, guys had been hard as hell and ready to go. Instead, the man who had just rubbed the easiest orgasm she’d ever experienced out of her appeared lightly fluffed at most. For a brief second, she wondered if her playful brattiness had ruined the mood. And then, she considered…that possibly…she just wasn’t attractive to him. 

  She returned her attention to their kiss as she chewed on that thought a bit. As far as girls went, she was a bit of a gremlin. A goblin, even. She wouldn’t dare call herself a ‘woman’ nor even a ‘lady’--those words gave her gender expression far too much credit. But even so, she was mostly comfortable with her appearance. Regardless of that, sloppy tomboys weren’t everyone’s preferred cup of tea, and it didn’t have to be. She had slept with people she didn’t personally find attractive before and it had been fine and dandy, all things considered.

  You can be ugly and still give killer blowjobs. 

  She smirked to herself, and, as she combed fingers through Raf’s hair with one hand, she allowed the other to travel down his torso until her palm curled around the soft, warm skin of his shaft. Her fingertips coiled along the underside of it, tracing a firm, straight line towards the base of the glans, and she massaged the head against the ball of her thumb with gentle, coaxing strokes. 

  His body responded to her touch; the malleable flesh stiffened in her grasp and filled her hand substantially. In return, her caresses grew more broad and firm; the heel of her palm only abandoning the sensitive tip for the brief intervals when her fingers endeavoured to tease and cradle his sack. 

  She felt Raf’s fingertips trace lightly up her spine, beneath her shirt, in a manner that provoked goosebumps. Once they found the loose curls of her hair, they followed her locks up to the nape of her neck, and brushed passionately over the base of her scalp. He hadn’t pulled his lips away from her, except to nip lightly at her jaw and ear.

  A small “Hmm” escaped him, sounding more contemplative than pleased, and it prompted her to pull her gaze back and assess his features. He only mirrored her measuring glance before bestowing a sweet little kiss on her nose.

  "We good?" She asked as cooly as she could manage.

  "Yeah?" His response warbled on a laugh, and it coaxed a reassured smile out of her. "I'd say so."

  “...Gave you another boner."

  "Oh." He glanced down and said with a sardonic tone, "Shit, thanks for telling me. I'd have never known."

  By the time his gaze returned to her, Margie met it with a stony, straight face.

 His amused expression wavered. "...What?"

Holding his gaze, she pressed down on his erection with a forefinger before turning her eyes to watch it as she let it spring upward in a marvellously undignified display of structural tension. The juvenile mistreatment of his manhood left Raf at a temporary loss for words and Magritte stifled her laugh into a snort. Before he could chide her, she shoved both hands beneath his shirt and lifted it, intent on freeing him of the garment completely. With a muffled exclamation, he complied, lifting his arms and finishing the job of pulling it off, over his head. 

Taking the opportunity to plant kisses across his chest and down his torso, Margie didn’t glance up to see his expression as her mouth dragged hungrily past his belly button and over the strip of body hair that led her down, towards the prize waiting for her between his legs. She rested her cheek against him, atop the unruly patch of honey coloured pubes that crowned his crotch, and closed her hand around the length of him. She was hopeless at measuring the size of anything with just a gaze, but he filled her grasp with a satisfying heft and was certainly longer than her hand. Favouring him with a well-appraising hum and a few loving strokes, she lifted her head to face her challenge. She peeled back the foreskin with a tender downstroke, before kissing the sensitive pink tip. 

  The scent of him was far from unpleasant; a heady musk that excited her senses goaded her to take him into her mouth. Slick moisture met her lips when they pressed against his flesh, and, when they parted to draw him in, her tongue was quick to receive him. She held the head of his cock in her mouth as her tongue swirled and lapped hungrily over its smooth contours. He provided texture more than taste; his scent informed the flavour perhaps more than anything else. Inside her mouth, he was velvety, warm, and gratifying to explore. She pulled her lips back over the gentle curves until they came together to kiss the tip again. Her tongue flicked out to lap the head’s underside before the rest of her mouth followed, and she drew him in deeper than before.

  She repeated that course, cherishing every bit of him with her tongue before pulling back to kiss the tip, and then drawing him into her mouth deeper with each successive round. Her thumbs had run up his inner thighs until they found the silky skin of his sack. She held and massaged it gently, appreciating the supple texture beneath her fingertips.

  Initially, Raf’s fingers had teased and entwined themselves in her nest of curls somewhat languidly. But slowly, his hands grew tense against the back of her head, occasionally clenching into fists around handfuls of her hair. She thought–and hoped–that he’d start pulling, but any time he came close to doing so, he quickly released his grip. She could have lamented that, but she appreciated the same restraint applied to the motions of his hips. As a precaution, Margie placed a steading hand around one side of his waist, but she knew from experience that this was poor defence against an overeager thrust. Under her palm, she could feel his muscles tense and flinch. That, coupled with the slight, uneven rolling of his hips, betrayed his urge to buck against her mouth. For his considerate efforts, she rewarded him by trying to decipher and match the pace that his rigidly subdued movements suggested to her. 

  “...Christ.” His breaths had been coming up deep and steady and the muttered profanity was barely audible to Magritte, but she caught it with a thrill.

  In response, she closed her eyes and pulled him into her throat so that her lips were flush against the hot skin of his lower abdomen. Her throat constricted uncomfortably around the intrusion that had smoothed over her tonsils, and she pulled back before it forced her to gag. Taking a deep, steadying breath through her nose, she allowed herself a precious second before swallowing him again. Her throat was no happier for it, but making a man's dick disappear was her favourite little party trick. Raf’s fingers brushed over her jaw in a gesture that permitted her to release him, but she ignored it in favour of challenging her gag reflex a third time.

  “Margie–!” He cupped her face more firmly, and this time, she obeyed what was clearly a request, not a suggestion.

  She pulled back, hollowing out her cheeks so that he left her mouth with an audible *pop*, and turned a sheepish smile up to him. 

  He met her gaze with a mix of awe and incredulity.“Holy shit, warn me next time.” 

  Providing him with an unrepentant shrug, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Too much?"

  “I mean, not if you’re trying to get this done and over with real quick.”

  To that, Magritte flashed her teeth in an impish grin. “Finish him!”

  Her poor yet unmistakable Mortal Kombat impression caused Raf’s brow to crease quizzically before a bark of laughter escaped him. “No, why are you like this?”

  He flattened his palm against her face, and she let out an ineffective chihuahua-like snarl as he irreverently pushed her backwards so that she laid flat on her bed. She landed with a fit of giggles, and she felt his thumbs hook into the waistband of her panties. He slid them down past her knees and Magritte was able to wriggle the garment down, off her ankles. Kneeling between her legs, Raf grabbed her by the waist and playfully dragged her towards him so that her hips met his.

  As he descended upon her with a flurry of kisses, she felt his erection lay flat across her stomach–the slick coat of moisture it wore from her mouth cooled on her skin. She couldn’t help but writhe eagerly beneath him; one hand in his hair while the other grasped and clawed needily along his lower back. His hands worked much more purposefully. One arm coiled around her shoulders to brace the both of them as the other snaked down her belly, fingertips finding the warm, damp flesh between her legs. He teased apart her lower lips, pressing a firm thumb just above her clit and massaging it gently. His middle and ring fingers skated easily downward to find her opening; tender and wet with her arousal. He pressed a careful finger into her and, when it sunk in with ease, he inserted another. With gentle strokes and twists, he acquainted himself with her; winning pleased hums and a determined roll of her hips as he felt the boundaries of her interior. His breath came up in heavy sighs as he kissed, bit, and sucked the flesh of her neck. She was aware, too, of how his hips rolled against hers with a neediness that mirrored her own. 

  His fingers withdrew from her and, for a moment, so too did his lower body. With keen anticipation, Margie wrapped her legs firmly around him for leverage, sinking her heels into the back of his calves as she lifted her hips up to receive him. He didn’t leave her waiting. She felt his cock press against and part her flesh to make space for itself. Swollen with arousal, her body provided pleasant resistance before surrendering to envelop him. He sank into her with gratifying ease; fitting comfortably between her legs. A delighted gasp escaped her when he drew his hips flush to hers, eliciting a ripple of pleasure that radiated out from her inner flesh, down into her toes. Her muscles clenched around him instinctively, and her knees lifted to hold him as closely to her as possible.

  At the sound of her breathy little mewl, a chuckle rose from Raf’s throat followed by another one of his contemplative hums. This time, though, an unmistakable satisfaction boiled in the low rumble of his tone.

  In Margie’s opinion, this was one of the best parts of sex; the initial feeling of having that aching, hungry gap between her thighs filled the warm, hefty girth of her lover. But there was something uniquely gratifying about hosting Raf in this manner, and the reason wasn’t a mystery to her. Without question, he was the most good looking man to ever find himself between her legs. From the first day she met him in Granville Station, she had been charmed by his lopsided smirk, dorky goatee, and aloof demeanour. His torn jeans and goofy dollar store sunglasses hadn’t been able to outcompete the easy charisma and gentle kindness he carried with him. He had a handsome face, a nice body that he took care of, and a mindful confidence that belied the tumultuous anxieties that plagued him. As she had gotten to know him better, she only adored him more.

  ‘Adored’. Hah, who am I kidding.

  She loved him, no revelation there. He didn’t have to rub an orgasm out of her and stick his dick in for her to realise that. She loved easily, and recklessly, and had known she was pooched after their very first jam session. He had been fun to play with, gave her kind praise and honest feedback, and made her feel like he genuinely enjoyed spending time with her. That and a pretty face was really all it took to win her loyal affections.

  But he was a skittish creature, and she loved him enough to find joy in whatever form their relationship took. Otherwise, she’d have overcrowded and overwhelmed him, and he–like all the others before him–would have grown to resent everything he initially claimed to like about her. She likened herself to salt; best enjoyed sparingly, and never on its own. It’s why she had been so reluctant to move in with him, despite wanting to spend every minute of her time with him. Too much salt. She feared becoming unpalatable. 

  Well, now he’s balls deep in me, purring comfortably in my ear–which means I’ve got no choice but to make him cum so hard, he sees stars.

  She had tried to moderate her behaviour and failed. She failed the very moment she accepted the keys to his apartment. She failed when he sweetly offered to let her snuggle him in bed so that he could help warm her feet. There had been mornings when she woke up to the maddening feeling of his stiffness pressed against the small of her back. She had remained very still and very quiet so as to not let him know that she had been awake before him, but good lord every muscle in her body had wanted to squirm against him. Without fail, the very moment he woke up, he’d carefully–very carefully–untangle his limbs from hers and turn away before getting out of bed to start his day. And without fail, she’d spend the consiquent morning too cumbrained to even see straight. 

  Just like she couldn’t say no to an apartment key and nightly snuggles, she couldn’t say no to a kiss. She couldn’t help but push it to see where it’d go. And now she was here. Remarkably. Unregrettably.

  ‘I couldn’t help myself,’ said the scorpion, ‘it’s in my nature.’

  A bit too late, Margie realised that Raf’s satisfied rumblings in her ear had been forming actual vowels and consonants.

  “Hm-?” She returned to the present moment with a flinch she hoped he didn’t notice.

  “I like your little noises,” he replied.

  “Oh.” Magritte blinked, running fingers through his hair. She used the back of her heel to caress the curve of his butt with irreverent affection. “Well then, giddy up, Mister Ephrem, and I’ll give you a cacophony!”

  She felt him grin against her jawline before grazing it with his teeth and providing an affirmative little growl. 

  His hips withdrew, only to rock forward into her again. His first few strokes were of a careful, measuring pace until he repositioned his knees further apart and closer to her body. Dropping his forehead down onto the mattress, over her shoulder, he grabbed her waist with two firm hands and pulled her up closer to him. He curled his torso to plunge into her more deeply. The angle of his cock struck a pleasing cluster of nerves inside her body, and she inhaled sharply as it retreated over her swollen flesh to slam back in against it in steady rhythm. Each time, his dick slid out of her until she was empty save for the stretch where they met; the lips of her cunt covetously hugging the contours of the cock’s head. And then he’d part her walls again with a forceful, hungry thrust; smoothing the mounds of velvety muscle that constricted around him and resisted his departing strokes.

  Every few thrusts forced a note of pleasure out of Magritte’s throat, carried on ragged huffs of breath. At first, her punctuated little cries only had to compete against the sound of Raf’s deep, steady breathing and the faint creaking of his bed. But, as her thighs became sticky and sodden from her arousal, the percussive sound of flesh on flesh began to drown out her little moans. Like the true musician he was, Raf searched for the right fingering to coax the sound he wanted out of her. His thumb pressed against the flesh right above her clit and rubbed it in quick, small circles as he continued to drive his cock into her. 

  The feeling of being kneaded firmly between his fingers and his dick provoked a strangled cry that bubbled out of her mouth before she even registered it. A sharp, quavering breath preceded another ecstatic wail, and then another. She curled her arms tightly around the back of Raf’s neck and attempted to muffle the chorus of her euphoria against his shoulder.

  The mounting tension caused her muscles to clench. The way his dick pushed against the walls of her cunt as it constricted around him only intensified the pressure that welled up inside her.

  “Oh, fuck. Fuck.” They were barely words, carrying the same quaking tone as her blissed-out yowls. 

  In response, Raf reached up to roughly smooth her hair back and cradle her head. He buried his nose into her hair, and pressed clenched teeth against her temple in a gesture that might have initially been intended as a kiss. His thrusts had grown desperate and uneven, but the hand that worked her clit remained fastidious in its efforts, bringing her so, so, so achingly close.

  “Good girl.” His voice was a breathy growl against her skull. “Come on, now…”

  Her legs had been wrapped around him so tightly that her muscles ached. But it provided the leverage she needed to buck against him with fervent need. He drove into her with short, rapid thrusts, barely withdrawing to slam as deeply into her as their bodies would permit; hitting up against her tightening core–until the dam of pressure burst to release a flood of sensation across every part of her. In the seconds leading up to it, Margie had fallen completely silent, drawing in a long breath that she held in her chest until the crashing wave of her orgasm forced it out of her. She felt the pulses of pleasure throb in her lower abdomen, caressing the man inside of her in a way that she never consciously could.

  At some point during her climax, Raf’s hands had both found her waist again, gripping her rapaciously as he chased his own pleasure. His breaths came up in short, uneven bursts, and the undeliberate groans being drawn out of him composed the greatest piece of music she had ever delighted in hearing.

  She writhed her hips to meet him at every feverish thrust. Slowing to longer, powerful strokes, he slammed into her once, twice, and with a quiet growl, he buried himself as deeply as their bodies would allow. His strong grip pressed her hard against him, holding her firmly in place as the force of his orgasm punched the breath out of his lungs. As he came inside of her, his hips strained against her body with the feral desire to empty himself deeper.

  This, too, was one of the best parts of sex, Margie decided. She’d never gone about it without a condom before, and while the thrill was almost certainly a psychological one, the verdict was in; she very enjoyed the feeling of having her insides painted lovingly white. She liked it a lot. With the covetous squeezing of her thighs and abdominal muscles, she made it known to him.

  The two of them remained locked together in a hot, messy, panting heap on the bed for an immeasurable moment before Raf nuzzled his face into the crook of Margie’s neck with a long, bodily sigh. She drew a hand up to affectionately caress his neck and the back of his head.

  “W...we good?” Her voice came up raspy, cracking on the second word, and she couldn’t help but exhale a little laugh at herself.

  “Mmh,” was the most Raf could conjure for a long while before he muttered semi-intelligible, “Magnifique.” He echoed her laugh with one of his own before bringing his arms forward to prop himself up, off of her. 

  As she allowed him to decouple from her, she curled her hands under her chin, reluctant to sit up with him…for reasons relating to gravity and fluids. 

  Sitting on his knees with her legs across his lap, Raf provided a mollifying grin that favoured one side of his face. “I, uh–shit.” He dropped his face into one of his palms with a self-deprecating laugh. “Ejected some of my brain cells there, I think.”

  “A shower might help with that,” Margie offered with a broad smile that flashed her teeth. “I’ll take one with you.” 

–

  It had been as though they spent the evening doing any other typical thing. It could have been a night of board games, for how casually Magritte navigated the aftermath of their activities. Raf had expected some manner of uncomfortable, condolatory discussion that went long into the early hours of morning; how they had liked it, whether or not they’d do it again, what it meant for their relationship, if it meant anything at all. But that conversation never occurred.

  Margie had made her enjoyment known while she shared a shower with him, and bestowed easy praise on his ‘excellent fingering’. In turn, he confessed that he could grow quickly addicted to the adorable little trills, yelps, and moans he had been able to coax out of her. Not to mention the other things she could do with her mouth. Dieu, mon fucking dieu. 

  The rest was clear enough to be obvious without discussion. Sex could just be another thing they did together when the mood struck–if it stuck at all. It hadn’t come with any promises or expectations, not any more than playing music or snuggles in bed had. It was the best Raf could have hoped for.

   Magritte seemed wholly uninterested in applying the pressures of romantic commitment onto him. If there was ever anything she wanted, she could never help but to edge it into conversations one way or another–he knew that much about her. Instead, she seemed entirely set on making sure she didn’t bring up anything even approaching the matter. She said she liked things the way they were, and, while his brain could question the truth in that–or in anything she said–he was of much the same opinion. Perhaps they had both come to the same understanding. Something about love, especially romantic love, brought out the worst in people. It had always seemed like a battle of wills; two people trying to deconstruct and reshape one another to fit the impossible moulds that would ensure the longevity of their relationship. How could anyone endure that kind of transformation without poisoning the relationship with resentment? He’d never know. He didn’t have to find out.

  Laying in bed at three in the morning, showered, satisfied, and cosy, with Magritte purring tiny snores in his arms, he couldn’t have asked for more. Whatever it was that he and Margie were enjoying together–friends with benefits?–suited him, so far. For all it mattered, she could decide to move across the sea next week, and he’d be unharmed by the decision so long as they remained on friendly terms. And that felt safe.

   What they had…it felt safe.

[bakhiu]

18th Floor - Geto Suguru x Reader

You and Suguru have been casually hooking up for awhile. The two of you finally meet up after some time apart and you break the news that you have a boyfriend. The two of you agree on one last hookup before parting ways.

✩ Artwork: JUHi on Twitter (NSFW) ✩ Pairing: Geto Suguru x Reader ✩ Rating: Explicit ✩ Contains: public sex, jealously, cheating, public humiliation, feeling realization ✩ Available on AO3

“Waiting alone for an hour is pathetic enough, getting a sympathy drink takes it to a level I don’t want to experience again.” you glanced behind you, the older man who sent the drink over winked at Suguru. 

“I’ll make it up to you.” Suguru tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I always do.”

A late summer sunset, an overpriced cocktail at a half empty rooftop bar and Suguru’s shoulder brushing against yours. You rested your elbow on the guard rail, admiring the last few rays of sunshine disappearing behind the cityscape.

“Were you waiting long?” he asked, leaning against the balcony. 

You turned towards him, admiring the way a sunset could make even the worst people look warm and inviting. 

“Waiting alone for an hour is pathetic enough, getting a sympathy drink takes it to a level I don’t want to experience again.” you glanced behind you, the older man who sent the drink over winked at Suguru. 

“I’ll make it up to you.” Suguru tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I always do.”

There were worse instances of his lack of care; him leaving you stranded after your birthday bar hopping extravaganza was high on your list. There was also the incident where he hooked up with your ex roommate at your best friend’s wedding. Suguru argued it wasn't hooking up, he was just getting a blowjob. It was always an apology, an excuse, an argument, nothing was ever his fault and yet this time, it was. 

“It’s fine.” you replied coolly, staring into the pool of melted ice in your glass. “One more drink and I’ll be going home.”

“Seriously?” Suguru scoffed, glancing at his watch. “Since when do you go home so early?” 

“I have someone waiting for me at home.” you gazed up at Suguru. “I think it’s time we end whatever this is.”

“So, I take it this will be our last night together?” 

“What makes you think we are hooking up tonight?” 

Suguru tugged your arm towards him, pressing your body firmly against his. His finger gently nudged your chin up, giving you a quick wink. “You think your little boyfriend is going to stop me?”

“No,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, your lips hovering over his. “I’m going to stop you.” 

Before you could pull away, Suguru pressed his lips against yours, his hand cradling the back of your head to deepen the kiss. You resisted, pressing against his chest and surprisingly, he relented.

Three weeks ago was when Suguru last saw you. When did you find the time to date and get a steady boyfriend? He didn’t see you on the dating apps he trolled to pass time, and you gave zero indication during casual conversation that you were dating. 

Suguru could send you a text and within two hours you’d be at his place, naked and writhing under his touch, begging for more. He showed up to your place a few times after one too many drinks with Satoru, and you were both naked within the minute, barely making it to the bedroom half the time. 

While your relationship wasn’t serious by any means, it was mutually beneficial when it came to social events. Suguru being able to rely on you as a plus one for work related events was enjoyable for two reasons. One, you made the rounds and talked with Suguru’s coworkers and potential investors, charming them with polite conversation and debates about current affairs. Two, you let him fuck you in his office, leaving the door slightly open so his coworkers could hear your soft moans. By definition, you were single, but Suguru had you in the palm of his hand. Well, he thought he did up until now.

No one could make you feel as good as he did, a fact you admitted more than a few times while bouncing on his cock and cumming for the fifth time. And yet, another man has the sole privilege of being able to fuck you whenever they want. Knowing your sex drive, you two probably fucked on every surface of your apartment by now. 

“Listen, maybe we can talk about this–”

“We can have one drink and then I have to go.” you interrupted, hitting send on a text that Suguru didn’t notice you were typing out. “My boyfriend will be home late tonight, so I need to kill some time.”

Suguru forced a smile, motioning towards an empty table a few feet away. You were expecting him to pick a more secluded seating arrangement, waiting for the opportunity to caress your inner thigh and whisper filthy things in your ear. 

“Surprised you didn’t pick the back corner.” you stated as he pulled a chair out for you. 

“Did you want a more private spot to chat? We can go to my car.” Suguru questioned innocently.

“No thanks.” you responded flatly, opening the menu to look at the lengthy list of cocktails, wines, and craft beers.

Your mind drifted to the day Suguru picked you up from the airport. Your returning flight was delayed twice and the airport was packed, no rideshares or taxis available for the next two hours. Despite him complaining over the phone and making you walk a mile to the short term parking garage, you thanked him profusely by giving him a blowjob in the backseat.

There was another time where he drank too much at a bachelor party and called you, begging for a ride. You heard his friends cackling in the background as he climbed into your backseat, telling him to enjoy his midnight snack. Before you could question why he chose that spot, he told you to hurry up and park somewhere so you could sit on his face. Suguru made you cum twice in the backseat before demanding you drive to his place so he could fuck you in the comfort of his own bed. 

Another time, Suguru borrowed Satoru’s car for whatever reason and proposed that the two of you ruin his leather seats as payback for when Satoru–

“Are you going to order or just stare off into space the whole night?” Suguru questioned, interrupting your rumination of car sex escapades. 

You felt heat rush to your cheeks as the server smiled and greeted you, pen poised on his notepad ready for your order. After quickly ordering your drink, you turned to Suguru who was staring at you with that stupid smirk again.

“Thinking about all the car sex we had?” he questioned with a wicked grin. 

“You’re disgusting.” you scoffed. 

“That wasn't a no~” Suguru replied in a sing-song voice. “Does your boyfriend know how much of a freak you are?”

“That’s not your business.”

“I think it is. How else will I know if he’s fucking you right?” Suguru questioned, scooting his chair closer to yours. 

“Why do you care?” you questioned, ignoring his hand caressing your knee.

“Is he that gossipy coworker who asked if you were single at the holiday party?” Suguru ran his finger delicately up to your thigh, gauging your reaction. “You’re too afraid of him blabbing his mouth at work and ruining your reputation so you put on this innocent good girl act.”

Your breath hitched as Suguru trailed his finger back down to your knee before returning his hand to the table. The server arrived with your drinks, setting them down on the table and promising to check back in later.

Quickly reaching for your drink and almost knocking it over, you took a long sip and winced as the alcohol hit your stomach. Suguru took a slow sip of his whiskey sour, trying to hide the pleased look on his face.

“You’re right about the coworker part.” you finally answered. 

“And the rest?” 

“He’s…pretty tame, so I tone it down.” 

Suguru took another sip of his drink before placing his hand on your thigh, the coolness of his palm making you shudder. You glanced up at him, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly inched his hand closer to the hem of your skirt, his fingers tracing the underside of the fabric.

“That must be so hard for you.” Suguru whispered, his hand gently nudging your thighs apart. 

“He treats me with respect, not like a sex doll.” You retorted, trying to steady your breathing. 

You could have closed your legs, pushed his hand away, gotten up and left but you didn’t. Instead you let his hand travel dangerously close to your heated core, not caring if the nearby patrons noticed. Suguru’s eyes darkened as he leaned closer, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“Poor thing, you must be so pent up.” His finger softly pressed against your clothed clit, slowly circling. “Do you have to finish yourself when he cums after five minutes of missionary and falls asleep?”

You pressed your thighs together, but he did not pull his hand back. Suguru used his other hand to lift your chin, gazing deep into your eyes. You bit your tongue, not wanting to give Suguru the satisfaction of knowing his ministrations were getting you worked up. He put more pressure on your clit, circling faster and in wider strokes.

“Want me to make you cum in front of all these people?” he questioned, a devious smirk spreading across his face.

“This is so wrong, Suguru.” 

“It didn’t stop you all the other times I made you cum in public.”

“I have a boyfriend and–”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Suguru pressed a soft kiss on the nape of your neck. “One last time and we’re done.”

“Fuck it,” you groaned as he slowly moved up and down your slit, wetness seeping the fabric of your panties. “One last time.”

“Too bad~” Suguru cooed as he pulled his hand away. “Cheaters really are the worst, especially easy ones.” 

You resisted the urge to slap the stupid smirk off his face but you reached for your drink instead. You quickly drank the remainder of the liquid and set the glass down a little too hard.

“Well, I guess I should get going then.”

“We’re having so much fun.” Suguru replied innocently, running his finger around the edge of his glass. “One more drink?”

You abruptly turned towards Suguru, leaning into him and placing the palm of your hand on his belt buckle. Immediately spreading his legs open, you began palming his cock, watching it harden under his slacks.

“Who's the pervert now?” Suguru questioned, glancing down as you trailed your fingers over his growing erection.

“I want to be wet and ready for my boyfriend, so I’m going to go home and touch myself.” you whispered in his ear.

Suguru groaned as you squeezed his cock, grabbing your hand and pressing it harder against his erection. Fingers tracing up your thigh, you worked your way up your skirt, softly rubbing your clit. 

“My boyfriend thinks I get wet waiting for his cock.” you whispered, inching your face closer to his. “In reality, it’s because I touch myself to the thought of you fucking me.”

Suguru cleared his throat before abruptly scooting away from you, quickly reaching for his wallet and throwing a hundred dollar bill on the table.

“Get up.” Suguru demanded, glancing at his watch. “Now.”

“Excuse me?” you questioned, smoothing your skirt over.

“Touching yourself in front of all these people,” Suguru mumbled as he yanked your arm. 

“Suguru, what the fuck–”

“Get up, or I’ll fuck you on this table in front of everyone.” You almost tripped as Suguru dragged you towards the exit.

“Where are we going?” you asked, trying to steady your breathing. 

“Back to your place.” Suguru replied immediately, fishing for his car keys. “I want to meet your boyfriend after I fuck you on his bed.”

Suguru had your legs spread, two fingers deep in your pussy as he steered with his other hand. 

“Rub your clit.” Suguru demanded as he pressed harder on the gas. “Stop stifling your moans, you aren't fooling me with your pathetic attempt at disinterest.”

You let out a soft moan, your fingers quickly tracing circles on your clit. Wetness pooled out onto Suguru’s leather passenger seat, but he didn’t care. He would make you cum a million times on his seats if it meant keeping you away from your loser boyfriend.

“Impatient?” Suguru mused as he rapidly pulled his fingers in and out, admiring the loud squelching sound. 

“Shut up.” you breathed, gripping his wrist in place. “Take this exit and make a left.”

Suguru followed your instructions, curling his fingers and slowly massaging your sweet spot. You cursed, lifting your hips and grinding on the palm of his hand, desperately chasing your high. 

“Which building?” Suguru asked as he yanked his fingers away.

“I was so close!” you cried out, reaching for his hand again.

“The longer you take to give me directions, the longer you have to wait to cum.” Suguru brought his fingers to his lips, licking the essence of you off his fingers delicately. 

“Red brick building, at the corner of Ridgeside. My parking garage entrance code is 2489, spot number 107.” 

You glared at the parking garage elevator, wishing to whichever god that was listening to make the doors open now. Suguru noticed your pouting and bit his lip, not wanting to antagonize you further. 

“This is a new god damn building!” you blurted out as the elevator remained paused at the 6th floor. “Why does this elevator take so long to work?”

Suguru tugged your arm and pressed your body against his, tilting your chin up before locking his lips to yours. You placed one hand on his chest and slid the other slowly down his torso, ghosting your fingers over his crotch. He grinned, breaking the kiss off and turned to press you against the wall. 

You pulled him back into a kiss, your tongues tangling with each other as you gripped his growing erection. A soft moan escaped your lips as Suguru’s thigh pressed against your cunt, an invitation to seek some much needed relief. 

“Suguru, let me touch you.” you moaned as he pressed his thigh harder against your thrusts.

“Keep going baby,” Suguru whispered as he pressed a soft kiss to your neck. “Think you can cum before the elevator gets here?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, desperately wanting to cum but worried that someone was on the elevator and would see you in a debauched state. You turned your head to the side, noticing the elevator was still stuck on the 6th floor. The leasing agent warned you that the elevator was notorious for being extremely slow but it was going to be fixed soon. This was almost a month ago and it clearly was not fixed. 

Suguru grabbed your waist and rocked you harder against his thigh, his forehead pressed to yours as you breathed heavily. You were close, dangerously close, but too nervous to cum right there when someone could appear at any moment.

“Stop worrying.” Suguru demanded as he angled his leg in a different position, eliciting a sweet moan from your lips.

“What if someone catches us?” you breathed out, slowly stopping the grind on his thigh.

Suguru grunted, gripping your hips harder and urging you on faster. “You could have came by now if you weren’t so stubborn.” 

“You were the one edging me the whole ride here!” you retorted, pushing his hands off your hips. 

Before Suguru could quip back, the elevator dinged and you both quickly pushed away from each other and readjusted yourselves. Suguru cleared his throat and greeted the groundskeeper who was pushing a cart of trash out of the elevator, his view partially blocked.

You quickly walked into the elevator, heart pounding as you pressed the 18th floor button. Suguru leaned against the wall next to you, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. Once the elevator started its ascent, you turned to glare at Suguru. 

“What? He didn’t see us.” Suguru shrugged and stepped closer to you. “Let’s continue, we have 16 more floors to go.”

Suguru towered over you once more, his thigh nestling between yours and you lowered yourself slightly, slowly rocking your hips back and forth. You were taking a gamble on being interrupted again, but you could cum soon if you were able to concentrate on something else. 

You wrapped your arms around Suguru’s neck and pulled him into a kiss, feeling him smile before reaching to cradle the back of your head into his hands. You opened your mouth slightly and Suguru eagerly deepened the kiss, his tongue wrestling with yours. You rocked your hips faster, grinding harder against his thigh, feeling the pressure build up rapidly. Suguru broke the kiss off and leaned in to whisper in your ear. 

“You’re so close, I know you can cum for me.” 

You glanced up at what floor you were on and you prayed you were stuck on 6 like the groundskeeper was. Suguru’s hand traced the outline of your breast through your shirt before squeezing it a few times gently. You moaned, arching your back into him, silently encouraging him to continue his ministrations. 

Suguru lifted the hem of your shirt, snaking his hand up to your breast and pulled your bra down. He pinched your nipple softly, smiling to himself when you gasped and glanced back at what floor the elevator was on.

“Stop paying attention to that.” Suguru snapped as he squeezed your breast harder. “We’ve been stuck on this floor for the past 4 minutes.”

“I can’t,” you groaned. “I need more, please let’s just wait until we’re in my room.” 

“You will.” Suguru commanded, lowering his thigh away from your dripping cunt. “Spread your legs.”

You spread your legs, forcing yourself to not check what floor you were on. The longer you held back, the higher the chance of someone walking in and knowing Suguru, he would make you stay on the elevator until you cummed, even if you reached the 18th floor. Suguru’s fingers quickly found their way to your entrance, immediately shoving two fingers in your vagina, causing you to moan loudly. It was exactly what you needed.You were right on the edge of cummming, just needing a little bit more to cum. 

Before you could ask Suguru, he shoved another finger in and placed his thumb over your clit. You moaned loudly, squeezing your eyes shut as your orgasm washed over you. Chest heaving, you opened your eyes and noticed Suguru immediately pulling away, leaving your disheveled body out in the open as the elevator doors opened. Horrified, you scrambled to adjust your skirt and top, forgetting that Suguru had yanked your bra down. 

“Sorry about that.” Suguru bit back his smile, trying to appear as sincere as possible. “We had a bit too much to drink and she couldn’t wait.”

You glanced up and realized it was your neighbor down the hall; the two of you spoke often in passing as she worked in the building across from your workplace. Your neighbor, looking a mix of horrified and embarrassed, stepped to the side and averted her gaze. You yanked Suguru’s arm and ran out the elevator, feeling your whole body burn hot. You could have killed him, and you probably would once you got into your apartment. Scrambling for your keys, you shakily unlocked your door and slammed it shut behind you once Suguru crossed the threshold. 

“You fucking asshole.” you seethed, glaring at the back of his head as he surveyed your apartment. 

“Your fault you took so long to cum.” Suguru shrugged as he walked down the hall towards your bedroom. 

“At least take your shoes off!” you shouted, trailing after him once you clumsily took your own off and threw them by the front door.

You walked into your bedroom and Suguru was standing by the window, admiring the view of the city skyline. You cleared your throat and waited as Suguru turned around before pointing towards his shoes. Suguru wouldn’t admit it, but he was too eager to fuck you after getting caught, his cock throbbing painfully against his slacks. He sat on the armchair in the corner, slowly unlacing his shoes before placing them neatly to the side.

“Think your boyfriend wants to sit here and watch me fuck you?” he grinned as you walked over and towered over him.

You leaned in to kiss him before slowly trailing your fingers down to unbutton his shirt. Suguru eagerly complied, tossing it to the side once you finished unbuttoning it. He quickly unbuckled his belt and threw that on top of his shirt before making quick work of his pants. You glanced down and noticed his cock straining against his underwear, a wet spot forming at his leaking tip. Biting your lip, you slowly kneeled and gingerly kissed his erection, eliciting a soft hiss from Suguru. 

You peeled his underwear down, admiring how his cock slapped against his abdomen and twitched at the cool air. Tossing them to the side, you softly palmed his cock, glancing up at him with a soft smile as you licked your lips. Before Suguru could force your lips to his cock, you squeezed the tip of hit hard, grinning as he tried to push you away.

“What the fuck that hurts.” Suguru spat but you moved your hands to his balls and squeezed just as hard. 

“You embarrassed me in front of my neighbor.” you spat as you stood up, sliding your skirt and underwear down in one motion. 

“That was your neighbor?” Suguru resisted the urge to laugh, not wanting to piss you off even more. “Afraid she’s going to tell your boyfriend?” 

“Nope,” you replied flatly, removing your top and tossing it in the pile with Suguru’s.

“So why am I being punished for making you cum?” 

Stradling Suguru’s lap, he tilted his chin up to you and stared down at him, feeling his chest heave under the palm of your hand. You contemplated how to break it to him, how to get your revenge on him and it finally clicked.

You slowly got up and motioned for him to stay seated. Suguru stared as you turned you back to him and made your way to the bed, sitting on the edge and spreading your legs. His heart raced as he watched you scoot a little further back on the bed and prop one leg up, your fingers trailing towards your clit. 

“Now, you’re going to watch me make myself cum and you can’t touch yourself until I say so.” you gauged his reaction, smirking at how he glared at you.

“That’s not fair, you already came.” Suguru argued, feeling his cock throb harder. 

“It won’t take too long.” you replied with a smirk. “It took us about an hour to get back up here to my place from the bar?”

“Don’t…” Suguru pleaded. 

“I think you can wait another hour.”

“Your boyfriend could be home any minute now.” Suguru argued. “Do you want to get caught again?” 

“There is no boyfriend.” you answered, shrugging as his confused expression.

“So you lied?” Suguru questioned, trying to sit up. 

“Just wanted to see how jealous you’d get.” you replied. “Sit back down and watch me play with myself.” 

Suguru was seething but he listened to your instructions and leaned back into the chair, trying to ignore the now painful swelling of his cock. He replayed the conversation in his head to try and distract himself from the soft moans you began to let out. Was I jealous? Suguru thought to himself and then the words he spoke to you as he dragged you away from the bar replayed in his mind 

“Fuck.” Suguru groaned as he threw his head back. 

“Enjoying the show?” you teased as you slipped a finger into your vagina, throwing your head back as pleasure washed over you. 

You didn’t realize Suguru was making his way towards you until you felt the bed dip under his weight. He was now towering over you, pushing your hand away and placing them above your head. He pressed his lips to yours and before you could return the kiss, he pulled away and stared at you until you shifted uncomfortably. 

“No more lying.” he stated as he pressed another kiss to your lips. 

“So, you were jealous?” you grinned as he rolled his eyes. 

Instead of answering, he rolled away from you and laid next to you. Suguru tugged your arm and instead of curling into his side, you chose to straddle him and grind your pussy against his cock. Suguru groaned, staring up at you as you rocked your hips back and forth. He reached for your face and pulled you into a messy kiss, your heart pounding. Breaking the kiss, Suguru held you there, lips ghosting over yours as he placed his hand on the small of your back, encouraging you to grind harder. 

It would take a lot more work on your end to admit that he was jealous, but Suguru knew it was time to end this game of playing it cool. He wanted you from the very beginning, that was obvious when he continued to sleep with you, but he wanted to keep his options open out of greed. But no one else made him feel as good as you did. There was no doubt in his mind that there was something more between you two and neither of you wanted to admit, until tonight. 

And so, the back and forth game would continue, just for tonight, until one of you finally admitted how badly you wanted the other, and no one else.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is Trellick Tower built in 1972 on the Cheltenham Estate in North Kensington, London, UK and designed by Hungarian-born architect and designer Ernő Goldfinger. A 3bd, 1.5ba unit on the 19th floors is for sale for £1,000,000 / $1,248,735.

The building is split into the main block of flats and the imposing service tower. To maximize living space, Goldfinger put the lifts, stairs and even communal laundrettes into the tower. The heating system and water tanks are housed there, too, in the plant room at the top, which allows water to run down to apartments using gravity, minimizing piping. 

The tower stairs look so clean. Probably nobody uses them.

Yellow lift hallway.

The connecting hall from the lifts to the apts. looks dated.

Since the connecting halls from the tower are on every other floor, this unit's entrance is on the 18th fl. below.

Hall at the top of the stairs.

For the price, this is a small living room.

Opens to a narrow balcony.

The kitchen isn't oversized, but it's nice.

The primary bedroom is small.

This bedroom is being used as a den.

And, this one is a nursery. The window seat is nice, but I don't think that you could fit a bed in here.

The 1.5 baths are right next to each other.

The view.

I think that I would rather live in a longboat on the canal. I just don't think that this unit is worth the price.

[numptypylon]

Downtime's Up - Chapter 16

He extended his hand to her, and she took it, following his gentle tug out of bed, across the floor to the balcony, into the cool night air.

“Manis!” he said, his arms spreading out, and… oh, it’d been so long… she’d forgotten how cute that satisfied, confident, happy look on his face was, when he cast that spell, when he felt so embraced and empowered by the world around him. “Pluma!” Despite the distinct lack of world-empowerment for her right now, what with the Moon a barely perceptible sliver, and the unmistakable omen of what to come, low in her gut- “Volantus!” …she thought she could feel it anyway, feel it through him.

“What-“ she started, but he cut her off.

“Just… trust me, okay?” he laughed. “And hold on!”

She wanted nothing more.

It had been so long.

She’d forgotten too, how close she had to get, to hold on properly, had forgotten the way the wind rose with them as they pushed off the ground, forgotten the way it felt when gravity shifted, being pulled away from everything solid in the world but him.

Forgotten how light she felt, how easy it was to laugh, alone up here, with just him and the open skies.

His cheeks were flushed, his smile wide and beautiful, the air warm and perfect, even the twisty New-moon-ache had miraculously stilled and… oh, this wasn’t real, was it?

She’d been asleep, and… she still was.

She knew this dream; even if the dreams featuring him had usually not been pleasant… occasionally she had gotten to wake up with him next to her, smiling at her, leaning over to kiss her good morning, and gotten to live in that world until she woke up for real.

He set them both down on a turret tower high above ground, the landing impossibly perfect and gentle, too, unlike her more… bumpy… memories of previous flights.

A dream.

Reality didn’t do soft landings.

Read more of the sixteenth chapter of Downtime's Up on Ao3, wherein it's Rayla's 18th birthday and Callum is just too dang dreamy to be real, sheesh, have mercy on the poor girl

[sovietpostcards]

Moscow's Lower Presnya - factory workers' village built in late 1920s

Thank you for making it happen: K. T., H. W., T. B., m., @depetium, @transarkadydzyubin, S. R.

Presnya in Moscow was a district of factories since the 18th century. Some of the factories that were based here are the Prokhorov's textile factory (Tryokhgornaya Manufactura), Smith's boiler factory, Danilovsky sugar factory, Ossovetsky's chemical plants etc. Factory workers usually lived close by (some of the factory owners built housing, but not all) so there were a wide array of houses and buildings (some brick, some wooden). After the 1917 Revolution all of the factories were nationalised and workers' living situation rethinked.

Presnya was the first workers' village in Moscow rebuilt after the Revolution (began in 1926). Emerged a district of 4-floor brick houses in formations that created court yards (something that didn't really exist for apartment buildings before then). Court yards were there purely for comfort of the residents. The new buildings mostly consisted of standard sections of 2 or 4 flats per floor per entrance. The standartisation helped bring the costs down (the buildings themselves were all still different). Buildings stood far enough from each other to allow enough air and sunlight. Most of the flats had windows facing North and South - it helped with air flow and sanitation (tuberculosis and other diseases were on the rise, and having direct sunlight in the flat was detrimental for germs). Many of the flats (though not all) had kitchens and bathrooms. Every building had a built-in boiler room that provided heating in winter. Flats were equipped with their own boilers to cook and heat water. Some other "smart house" solutions in the flats: a pipe system that sent heated water from the kitched to the bathroom, oven-samovar connector (to simplify boiling a samovar), built-in "ice pantry" in the kitchen (served as a fridge in wintertime), air ducts in every room, floor air ducts that also served as water retractors and prevented flooding the neighbours downstairs.

It's important to note that while some families had a whole flat to themselves, most of them were kommunalkas [communal flats] with several families sharing one flat, one room per family. Typically, workers aged 40+ with big families were more likely to get their own flat that younger or unmarried workers.

Let's see some of the residential buildings!

First, some of the 19th century ones - originally built by factory owners as housing for workers.

This new elite residence is built over three 19th cent. buildings. They tried to save as much as possible. The building on the left is mostly as is (only an extra floor was added on top), the building on the far right was kept as part of the facade, and the middle one was in too bad a condition to save, unfortunately.

Corner house with the Kommunar store - designed by Aleksandr Kurovsky.

Another building designed by Kurovsky was initially supposed to have more balconies - see the project on the cover of Building Moscow (#4, 1929). Originally the colors were reversed: the building was made of red brick (befitting the red brick factory surroundings) and the patterns were made of lime brick.

Pair of buildings designed by engineer Osvald Kapran are very simple but have a distinct feature.

And finally the architectural dominant of the Lower Presnya - Mostorg [Moscow Trade] department store designed by Brothers Vesnin and built in 1928. It was their first constructivist building in Moscow. This was the first and only store of this magnitute in the district, a symbol of the new centralised trade as opposed to old style markets.

Part one - Architecture | Part two - Museum

[nayeluvr]

Sweet Secret

Pairing - Princess!Wonyoung x princess!reader

W.C: 1.4k

Warnings: the smallest implication of homophobia

This ball was not the place for you. Your feet ached from your heels, you ribs strained against the corset, your skull pounded with a headache at the bright lights and loud chattering. It was a celebration of the illustrious princess' 18th birthday.

Of course, as with any royal family, this was something to be celebrated with no expense spared. Everything was decked in white, pink, and diamonds. Her parents had invited every royal family in the kingdom, including a few from outside of the kingdom, but only those with eligible bachelors for sons.

Being of noble blood, your family was invited, and your father was delighted at the prospect. You had a brother, just a year older than you, and thus, only a year older than the princess. You however, were not so excited. 

No one had ever seen this princess, with only rumors of her beauty and politeness to go off of. Why would someone be so excited to meet and marry someone they had never met?

Stepping away from the wall, you dragged your feet on the way to the food table, grabbing a glass of wine and sipping lightly at it. Cringing at the taste, you just hoped that you'd be able to ignore it long enough to numb the pain in feet, ribs, and head. 

From behind you, there was a lull in the music, and quiet feel over the previously booming ballroom. Turning around in confusion, you looked up at the balcony, where everyone else was staring. Standing there was the King and Queen of the land, proud smiles on their faces, and with a loving look to each other, they stepped to the side.

Stepping between them was a figure dressed in mainly white, with the long ballgown fading into pink at the end. A stunning diamond tiara was placed securly on her head, matching with the diamong necklace resting on her sharp collarbones. 

Smiling down at the crowd, she picked a long, dainty hand to wave and performed a small curtsy. The crowd erupted into cheers and after she walked down the flight of stairs to the ground floor, the music and dancing started back up again. 

The princess weaved through the crowd, an effortless dance as the reflective lights made her glow. She seemed to be headed towards the food table, which made you panic at the thought of conversation and turn away, busying yourself with your wine.

A gentle hand made its way onto your shoulder and you had to stop yourself from screaming. Whipping around, your wide eyes locked with the princess' gentle ones. She gave you a deep curtsy, and when she rose back up, she introduced herself,

"My name is Jang Wonyoung, it's very nice to meet you...", she trailed off, waiting for you to finish her sentence by introducing yourself. Scrambling to remember your manners, you curtseyed back, telling her your name,

"I'm ___, it's nice to meet you, too. Happy birthday, by the way!", you said, motioning to the bustling room in her honor. She smiled, but her smile didn't reach her eyes,

"Thank you, truly. But if you don't mine me telling you, I personally think that this is too much. It's just a birthday, I don't see why I should be dressed like I'm meeting the Pope for a passage into adulthood.", she said, words spilling out her mouth faster than she could control. 

Slapping a hand over her mouth, she bowed her head in apology,

"I'm sorry, I've said too much!", she said, averting her deep brown eyes, eyebrows pulling up in the middle. You smiled at her, understanding where she was coming from, seeing as your family did something similar when you had turned 18. 

"It's alright, Princess. You haven't offended me, and there isn't anyone listening to get offended, either.", you said, smiling up at the taller girl, "Besides, you look beautiful. And that is certainly deserving of some flaunting."

Wonyoung's cheeks bloomed with pink, the color standing out greatly against her pale complexion. She stuttered for a second but managed out a squeak of a 'thank you'.

Refilling your glass, you lifted it toward her, sending her a coy wink as you drank from the glass, the blood red liquid staining your lips. Wonyoung almost choked on her spit, but she didn't because she wanted to look good in front of you.

You were like a breath of fresh air. You treated her like a normal person and not someone to treat like glass, avoiding certain words or phrases, avoiding her eyes. You didn't care about her position, you were just here to have fun.

"Hey, do you-", you were cut off by your father walking up to you, fixing you with a look that told you quite clearly to leave. So, bowing your head towards Wonyoung, you go to make your leave.

But, her hand holding on to your flared sleeve cuff stops you in your tracks. Wonyoung's doe-eyed gaze meets your curious one. You father gives you another scathing look, but he allows it, not wanting to seem rude in front of the party's host. 

"Princess Jang, I'd like too introduce you to my son, Seobin", he said, his fake charming grin on his face. Seobin, your older brother, bowed deeply, a smile on is face, but a bored look in his eyes. Your brother wasn't one to settle down, or stick with one girl for long. He often went around, sleeping with random girls and coming home late at night. Something you doubt Wonyoung would appreciate.

Locking eyes with your brother, you shook your head 'no' subtly. He only blinked in your direction, but there was understanding in his gaze. He may not have been the best older brother, or person in general, but he cared about you. More than anything.

Stepping closer to Wonyoung, you brushed your hand over the back of hers, making her look at you from the corner of her eye. You motioned towards the garden outside with a tilt of your head, and she smildd nodding, allowing you to step away from the conversation and out of the back doors.

The garden was lit up with lanterns, silk streamers strung through the trees. There were a few people milling about, but the further you ventured into the garden, the less people there were. Settling down on a bench, you smoothed your pale pink dress down, adjusting your satin choker to make sure the pearl situated in the center was visible.

A fair few moments later, you hear your name being called. Wonyoung's soft voice echoes throughout the empty garden, making you stand up and walk to greet her.

Her face lights up at the sight of you, her almost tripping over herself to grab your hands.

"Oh, my fair maiden! It has only been a few hours, and I already can not bare to be parted from you for long! Promise me that even after this is over, you'll still come see me? Even just think about me?", she said, hands moving from yours to your upper arms. 

You were taken aback, not expecting the sudden confession, but you smiled anyways,

"Princess Jang Wonyoung, I'll be the happiest maiden in all the lands to see your heavenly face even just once more after this night.", you replied, pulling her arms off your shoulders and pulling her into your arms. Her lengthy arms wrapped around your midsection. 

Pulling away slightly, the tall girl placed her forehead on yours, eyes opening to look at you,

"My sweet secret, indulge me in this shared deception, and grant me your lips on mine.", she whispered, making you smile again, closing your eyes and pressing your lips to hers. 

The night ended with tender kisses and teary goodbyes, as well as a secret promise to remain by each other's side, no matter the man they were with. 

On the carriage ride home, you could only look out the window and wish you were back in your lover's arms, turning your pretty faces away from the 'high society'  you lived in, and live in peace with her for the rest of your days.

[wisteria-lodge]

Do you have any songs or playlist that make you think of Prison of the Phoenix or snupin in general?

"Wolf" - First Aid Kit ~ This song is just Remus. Of course he has to be indie folk rock, no surprises there. And it's just this nice mix of tired and badass that I think really suits him.

"The Unwinding Cable Car" - Anberlin ~ A Severus song. Very contemplative, internal, and... stuck. With a through line of hope.

"18th Floor Balcony" - Blue October ~ Great song for the tone of their relationship. We've got some overwhelmed and disbelieving hesitance, and it's all very soft and subtle and low key - while also being very intense (the way they are).

"Young and Beautiful" - Lana Del Rey ~ Slightly melancholy yet triumphant summer romance, with lots of self-doubt in there.

"Prelude 12/21" - AFI" ~ This is actually my Severus + Dumbledore song. It's got a lot of power behind it, but it's also a creepy lullaby, which speaks to the insidiousness, condescension, but also overwhelming nature of this relationship.

"Diary of Jane" - Breaking Benjamin ~ Severus/Lily needs to be feel very intense, but very young. So this is like bleak, angry Severus who just doesn't care what happens next (but thinks he's being very tragic and noble.)

"Breaking Inside - Shinedown" ~ A Severus angst song - all about being trapped (by your past, by circumstances, by yourself) and just very angry about it.

"Antihero" - Taylor Swift" ~ My song for getting inside Sirius' head. A little self hating, but a little self mythologizing, and like... he's just starting to get a more objective view of his relationships.

"Nails, Hair, Hips, Heels" - Todrick Hall ~ @niche-pastiche said I had to put this one in for Lucius.

"Look What You Made Me Do" ~ Taylor Swift" - ANOTher diva song for Lucius, but this one is an angry diva... and it kinda works for me as a Lucius + Voldemort song.

[ahappydnp]

what are some phancoded songs??

i've got a whole dnp spotify playlist but i'll put some highlights under the cut (and i'll stick to specifically phan coded and not them individually)

fetus/manchester era songs

18th floor balcony by blue october- for when you want to cry about the manchester flat era

share your address by ben platt- uni era dan

house key by scott helman- "i want to make a home with you"

housewife by jay brannan- oct 18th 2009

2014-2018 era songs

duo by ben rector- LITERALLY THE MOST DNP SONG

solider by james tw- "we've ignored all of the rumors and jealous disapprovals, and we've come out the other side with something beautiful"

present era/timeless songs

you're still the one by shania twain- do i need to even explain

thanks for choosing me by lucy spraggan- "and i know that we won't need much. you and me, the house, and a dog"

to hell and back by maren morris- i wrote a fic inspired by this a billion years ago but it's still very them

we're in love by boygenius- gay

[pentecostwaite]

Last Sunday, by luck, the caretaker of the 1757 Harpswell Meetinghouse in Harpswell, Maine offered to let us in. I’ve wanted to see inside it for years but it’s never been open.

Outside, to the west, the meetinghouse has a beautifully restored graveyard. I’ve spent a lot of time in this graveyard. It sometimes looks like the headstones are parishioners leaning in towards the meetinghouse, listening to a sermon.

Inside at last, it was wholly breathtaking. There was the eerie feeling that the past was suddenly very close by.

The old 18th-century Communion rail was still there by the pulpit. You could see where the folded hands of hundreds of communicants wore the paint from the rail as they knelt to receive.

The caretaker pulled out a powder keg from under one of the seats and told us to look inside. There was still powder within. The keg was found in the attic, supposedly a relic from the American Revolution.

But the reason I’ve wanted to see inside the meetinghouse for so long, is that a 19th-century book about the history of the area claims that seats in the balcony of this very building were set apart for the enslaved. In 1765, a census shows there were 14 people of color living in Harpswell.

New England still struggles with its history of enslavement and racism. You have to look hard to see any remaining traces of that shameful history in the New England landscape. People have tried to forget.

I wanted to go upstairs. I wanted to see what was hidden.

The handrail on the stairs leading to the balcony was worn smooth.

The view of the pulpit was stunning from this height.

The caretaker led us into the northwest corner of the balcony, beyond the box pews the wealthy white parishioners paid dearly for.

There, behind a jumble of ancient pew doors he showed us a bench with a rough, unplaned edge. There had originally been at least two benches there, anchored to the floor, unable to be moved from their spot.

My heart began to hammer. The caretaker told us he couldn’t imagine who would have sat in those rough seats. But I knew who sat there.

These were the seats set aside for people of color.

I’ve begun research to learn the names of the people who sat in these seats. They deserve to be remembered.

I’ll let you know what I find out.