#anyway it looks good and i am fighting with myself about it

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

HBCU CONFESSIONS.

Erik x Valencia

Smut

Part One.

What am I going to do? I’m pregnant and it’s my freshman year. I don’t know if I should keep the baby or not. Any advice?

-Florida A&M

My stupid boyfriend cheated on me so I fucked his homeboy. Now both of them are fighting over me 🤭

-Hampton

I think my roommate has a thing for me. I’m not gay, but I’ve caught myself staring at his dick a few times. This shit is confusing me. I don’t like dick I like pussy!

-Morehouse College

My girlfriend wants me to eat her butt. She keeps begging me to do it. Who on here ever ate ass before? I need some advice because gahdamn she won’t leave a nigga alone.

-Morgan State

I already know what yall gonna say but I don’t give a fuck. My homegirl keep telling me about how her man is cheating on her. He’s cheating with me. I’m the side chick. The D is just too good. At this point I’m already too far gone. Judge me if you want I don’t care 🤷🏿‍♀️

-Clark Atlanta University

I had a train ran on me the other night. No, they didn’t fuck me. They ate me 😩 and it was a bunch of Omegas! Since they like to show their tongue so much I wanted to see which one of them could make me cum the hardest 😘

-Howard University

-I wish to remain anonymous. I’m not as experienced in the sex department and I am 21 years old. I want to hook up with someone here. Maybe I have unrealistic expectations, but I want it to be with someone I’ve been eyeing around campus. He doesn’t know I exist, but he’s so beautiful. If I could just have one chance with him…

-Texas Southern

“I did it.”

Valencia shut her MacBook Pro and fell back against her bed within her dorm room. Across from her sat her roommate, Brielle. They’d been roommates since freshman year.

“It was an anonymous submission, right? Nothing to worry about.” Brielle replied while looking over her notes for her A&P lab practical.

“I know, but what if someone figures it out?—

Her phone buzzed next to her thigh again.

“Jesus…he keeps fucking calling me.”

Brielle chuckles, “His ego is bruised. He probably wants to make sure you don’t say anything about it.”

“It’s been a week. He needs to let the shit go.”

Valencia ends the call for the eighth time that rainy evening. She’s already angry with herself for even allowing that man to have his way with her body. It was the worst experience. Worse than her first time.

“Head was trash, dick was trash…”

“So, I guess it isn’t all true that Que’s are great in bed, huh?” Brielle jokes.

“It’s definitely not true. I just wish it was with him.”

Valencia grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. Brielle simply laughed at her antics.

“Isn’t he a Que too?” Brielle questions.

“He is. Maybe he’ll be the exception.”

Valencia slowly removed the pillow from her face and blinked her eyes up at the ceiling. Butterflies formed in her belly just thinking about him.

“He’s so damn fine, Brie. Like, why couldn’t it be him that had all of this instead of Isaiah?!”

“Who is this again? Girl, you know my attention span is fucked up.” Brielle replied with a laugh.

“His name is Erik. He’s getting his doctorate.”

“Hm,” Brielle highlighted a section in her textbook orange, “How old is he?”

“I don’t know, like…thirties maybe?”

“Since when do you like them older?” Brielle asked with a shocked tone of voice.

“Since now! He’s too fine, Brie. And he’s really smart. Like a genius. He has so many accomplishments. A sexy nerd.”

“He sounds like he’s out of your league—”

“He’s also a TA—”

Brielle’s eyes went wide.

“A TA? Girl…don’t do it.”

Valencia had to admit that Brielle was right.

“It’ll never happen anyway. That man walks past me everyday like he doesn’t see me. I’ll just crush from afar at this point I don’t even know why I sent that fucking message.”

Valencia pouted in bed. Silence filled the room as she laid there staring at the television. Brielle was completely absorbed into her notes to care. Valencia could be doing some schoolwork herself, but the thought of her anonymous ask kept circulating in her mind.

Valencia sat up on her elbow and reached for her laptop again. Brielle cut her brown eyes at her and smirked playfully. Valencia checked the blog and noticed one note. Clicking on it, it was just a like. Her submission is nothing compared to the other wild confessions.

“There he goes again,” Brielle motioned with her eyes at Valencia’s phone, “Do you want me to cuss his ass out? Block that nigga!”

Valencia grabbed her phone and proceeded to block him.

“You know I have Chemistry with that limp dick fucker, right?” Brielle said.

“Just ignore him, Brie. He’ll be alright.”

“He keeps harassing you!”

Valencia sat her laptop on their shared desk. She shut off her lamp light snd slipped beneath the sheets. She had an early class tomorrow and needed to ease her mind into slumber.

“Goodnight, Brie. Don’t stay up too late.” Valencia said.

“I’ll try. You know I’m a night owl.” Brielle grumbled.

The rain seemed to flow into the following afternoon. Valencia ran as fast as she could back to her dorm after the boring lecture she had to endure. A fellow student held the door for her and she made it inside although she was drenched from head to toe. She smoothed wet braids from her face and adjusted her cropped T-shirt. The brisk air of the building caused goosebumps to form along her sepia skin. She could even feel her teeth chattering.

Removing her heavy school bag from her shoulder, Valencia took long strides towards the elevators. She waited impatiently while rubbing her wet arms to try and warm up. She silently cursed herself for not bringing her umbrella. The sunny morning and clear sky deceived her. She stared down at her black and white Adidas Campus 00s for two seconds before the elevator doors opened. Valencia took a step forward and just then a deep timbre sent a shiver up her spine.

“Going up?”

Valencia was halfway into the elevator when her chocolate orbs fell upon the one person she wasn’t expecting to see in her dorm building.

Valencia may have met her match with Erik Stevens.

“Yes,” She stepped to the side so that he could enter.

“Thank you.”

Valencia scooted towards the corner of the elevator.

“Which floor?”

“Six.”

“Bet, that’s where I’m going.”

He has a dorm on the sixth floor? She thought.

She focused on him like she was studying a passage out of one of her textbooks. First, her eyes took in the style of his hair. He kept the sides and back tapered but the rest was beautifully loc’d and braided back. His eyes were shielded with gold-rimmed glasses that complimented his face and made him like artsy. She trailed her gaze down his neck to his broad shoulders. He wore a cream-colored hoodie and khaki cargo pants. On his feet were a pair of boots and in his firm grip was a dripping wet umbrella.

“After you.”

Valencia picked herself up and slipped past him since he was holding the door for her. She could smell his cologne and it was her new favorite smell.

“Thank you.” She said.

She instantly felt warm and fuzzy. He had this effect on her she hadn’t felt in a long while truly. Not even for that lackluster lay she had a week ago. Isaiah who?

Valencia walked into a crowded lounge area with a confused look on her face. She spotted Brielle near the window sitting on a lounger. She was chatting with a few of their mutual girl friends. The grey clouds outside began to allow the sun to peek through. She walked over to them and dropped her bag to the floor.

“Cindy, Skai…”

Cindy jutted out her petite hip and smiled with her braces in greeting. Skai raised her hand and fluttered her fingers covered in various gold rings. Skai was playing in Brielle’s ginger-colored coily hair as she typed away on her tablet.

“Why is everybody sitting here in the lounge?” Valencia questioned.

“Rumor has it, Rochelle isn’t our RA anymore.” Skai revealed.

Valencia furrowed her brows and squinted her eyes.

“Really?—”

“CAN I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE!”

The chatter amongst everyone died down to a pregnant pause. Everyone looked towards Erik. Valencia caught his eye briefly and she could feel herself squirming from that small interaction alone.

“My name is Erik. I’m sure some of you have seen your emails, and for those that haven’t, I’m here to fill you in. Rochelle had a personal emergency and she will not continue as your RA for the final months of this semester. I will take over that position from here on out.”

Whispers circulated around the room. Erik stood there with his back straight, arms folded, and poker-faced.

Elusive nature.

Mellow.

“Uh-oh…”

Valencia turned her gaze towards Brielle. Her friend gave her a mischievous smirk. Valencia suppressed a laugh and threw her hands in the air dismissively.

“I will be staying on this floor for the remainder of the semester to keep an eye on things and act as a guide. I know a lot about TSU and I’m more than happy to help. Does anyone have any questions for me?”

Erik scanned the room through his glasses intently, similar to a drill sergeant. For some reason, his presence evoked a feeling of obedience.

A quiet Alpha.

“Well, that’s all I have to say for now,” Erik clapped his hands together in finality, “You can resume studying or whatever it is you were doing. Matt, right?”

Erik pointed to a freshman sitting at a desk. Matt was tall and lanky with designer braids in his hair and dressed like he was ready for a runway. A lot of designer. Definitely attention seeking.

“Yeah. How you know me?”

“I’m a Que Dog. You still interested, right?”

Something in Matt shifted. He stood taller and raised his chin with confidence.

“Absolutely.” Matt replied with excitement.

“Your probationary period starts tonight. You got a lot of work to do.”

Valencia could sense the nervousness in Matt.

“I’m ready.” Matt replied.

“We’ll see.”

Erik walked past Matt and towards the elevators. Valencia watched him leave and when he’d finally gone she let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t think I’m going to enjoy a man being our RA,” Cindy said with obvious disdain.

“Same,” Skai stood up and pulled her tight denim skirt down over her rotund backside and generous thighs.

“Valencia is going to keep me up playing DJ hero every night since her crush is our new RA.”

Valencia glared at Brielle.

“You have a crush on him?!” Cindy questioned with a surprised expression.

“What happened to Isaiah?” Skai asked.

“Isaiah was a disappointment. He talked a big game after that party and when we went back to his room he pretty much did the opposite of what he said he was gonna do.” Valencia recalled with frustration.

“I’M GoNnA MAke YoU CuM,” Brielle mocked.

“I’Mma GiVe YoU THIs DiCk AnD HaVE YOu BeGGiNG FoR MorE.” Valencia said

“oh my fucking GOD,” Cindy giggled, “It was that horrible?”

“Cindy, horrible isn’t even the word. If I could find a word to describe how awful it was I would. Can’t eat pussy for shit, constantly tried to stick it in my ass because he couldn’t find my pussy, has a big dick but can’t fuck, kept asking me if I liked it, it was terrible.”

“I’m so sorry for you, sis,” Skai shook her head, “I really thought he was going to knock the Sonic rings out that coochie.”

“Maybe he was drunk?” Cindy said

“He wasn’t. He had a little bit of weed, that’s it.”

Valencia reached for her bag and stood up to leave.

“Let me go study, I’ll catch up with ya’ll later.”

“Sure you don’t wanna come out with us for drinks tonight?” Brielle asked with a smile.

“I have to train. I have a swim meet coming up.”

“Fine! Maybe Saturday!”

Valencia put a thumb up as she walked away towards her dorm room.

Thirty notes.

Girl if you don’t approach this man!

Who is it? I wanna know 👀

If he hasn’t taken the hint by now he don’t want you.

Valencia’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Most of the replies were nothing but discouraging. She wished she could take back her anonymous submission. Sitting at their shared desk in an oversized yellow Nike hoodie and her braided hair in a messy bun, she clicked on a tab on her MacBook to continue reading about Erik’s accomplishments at TSU. He’s an alumni receiving his doctorate in Computer Hardware Engineering. Summa cum laude. Pledge President. Star Football player. Leading place in various academic clubs and competitions. Tutor in multiple complex subjects such as quantum physics, chemistry, mathematics, and philosophy. Fluent in languages such as French, Spanish, Chinese, Latin, and signing.

Overly intellectual.

Valencia could go on and on about how perfect Erik seemed to be. She was infatuated past the point of no return. Far gone. The sexist fucking nerd she’d ever known. But still, it was just a reminder that he wouldn’t be concerned with a twenty-one-year-old chick with no experience and nowhere near as much maturity as him. He probably wanted a sophisticated woman. confident, in charge, and calm. A lot of experience and knowledge about the world and about culture, art, and literature. Someone who can quote Aristotle.

Studious.

Oh? He was in the Military? That explains a lot.

Valencia clicked out of the tab and back to the HBCU Confessions blog. As she scrolled the page, she wondered to herself who could have created it? She’d heard whispers around campus about how the infamous blog became active again after some years.

As she scrolled, an instant message icon popped up. She shifted her hips in her seat and leaned in to click on the message. It was probably some old man asking if she wanted to be their sugar baby or a bot. Valencia’s dark brown eyes scanned the message.

-Hi:)

It was the blog. HBCU Confessions. The owner.

-Hello ❤️

Why would they message her?

-I read your submission. Probably the most innocent out of them all.

Valencia didn’t know how to take that. Was it an issue?

-Unfortunately for you, I don’t have THAT MUCH excitement in my life lol

-Nothing wrong with that. It prompted me to message you personally.

-It was that interesting? Lol

-I’d like to understand and see if I could give you some advice.

-Thank you! I’d actually love some advice. 🥰

-Perfect. What makes it an unrealistic expectation? Because I can tell you now, I doubt it is.

-He’s on a different level than me. He’s also older than me. Idk I just get this vibe that he wouldn’t be interested.

Valencia grabbed her hot pink Stanley cup to take a sip of water.

-How much older? I know you’re 21.

-All I know is that he’s in his 30s.

-I’m still not seeing where it’s unrealistic. Have you tried anything at all? A smile? Anything?

-No. I’ve been too shy to.

-Shy or afraid of rejection?

-BOTH.

-You gotta break out of that.

-Do you know for sure if he’s single?

-I’ve seen him around campus with this professor sometimes for lunch but that’s it. I’m not sure if they are dating or just friends lol

-What school are you attending again?

-Texas Southern

-Really? 👀

-👀👀👀

Valencia made a face at her laptop screen. Did they know something she didn’t?

-Is there something I should know?

-I think I may know who you’re talking about. He’s not available from what I know…

So, this person attended TSU as well? Makes sense now why they singled out her confession.

-Who am I talking about then? 😌

-He’s 33 by the way.

Valencia’s shoulders slumped.

-This still doesn’t confirm that we’re talking about the same person.

-He’s a Nupe, right?

-No. he’s a Que. lol

-You sure? He’s about 6’0, teaches chemistry, spends time with that one English Literature professor…

Valencia considered their description of Erik but she was sure he said that he was a Que Dog earlier. And he’s a TA for quantum physics not chemistry. The only similarity is the English Lit teacher. Professor Boyd.

-I don’t think we’re talking about the same person. Send me a picture.

Valencia waited two minutes before a picture popped up in their chat.

-His name is James Parham.

-He’s cute but that’s not my crush 😂

-Well then I have no idea who you’re talking about lol.

-wait!

Valencia waited. She stood up from her seat at the desk to grab her phone from the charger. Checking her notifications, she received a text from Brielle an hour ago. Valencia opened the text thread and there was a video. She pressed play and it was a lot of motion to keep the phone steady until the video zoomed into a table far off in the corner. Valencia squinted her eyes and recognition washed over her face.

Erik.

He was sitting alone in a booth with a drink in his hand, bobbing his head to the music.

Ping.

-Is it him?

-Yes!

-😌 ohhh so Erik?

-He’s definitely single.

-Make a move before it’s too late.

-what do you suggest I do? Can you give me some advice please?

-Erik is introverted and often mistaken for being timid. He is indeed an Omega and takes pride in that. You can find him around campus reading a book or working out. He’s a homebody for sure. Sometimes you may catch him out and about. He’s a chill dude with this mysterious aura about him. That’s what I’ve gathered from just seeing him around campus.

-I would start off by playing into his interests. He likes to read so find out what books he likes. From what I know he’s big on poetry. He likes to run around campus at 6 am. Need help tutoring? See if he’s offering some study hours for that. Start there and see where it goes.

-This is really good advice! It’s very subtle and a perfect way to get his attention without being too obvious. Thank you! ❤️

-You’re welcome love 💗 I’m here if you need anything. Feel free to chat with me.

Intent listener…

“I really don’t know what to do about it, Erik…”

Andrea, Erik’s friend from college and English Literature professor at TSU walked alongside him in the early afternoon the following day.

“He’s so confusing half the damn time, I can’t even tell if he’s into me or not.”

Erik had both hands in the pockets of his slacks. Today was his day to assistant teach quantum physics. He really wasn’t up for it because he’d been up so late in the dorms trying to settle a sneaky party. Apparently, Rochelle allowed them to party and have drinks which is against the rules and grounds for expulsion. He just walked and listened. Out of his friend group, he’s the one they go to to vent because he doesn’t disrupt them, and he gives great advice.

“How long have we known James, Drea? That nigga can’t express himself for shit. Just know, he’s feelin’ you. He’s always had a thing for you.” Erik replied.

Andrea took a sip of her super green smoothie.

“Well, I’m not gonna wait around for him to speak up. What is he so afraid of?”

Erik turned his gaze onto Andrea through his gold-rimmed glasses.

“We’ve been friends for about ten years, Drea. Maybe he’s afraid that if things don’t work out with you two romantically, it’ll mess up the bond you both had as friends.”

Andrea mulled over Erik’s words. They settled in front of the school fountain and sat down on a bench facing it.

“You have a point. We’re going to a spoken word tonight. We’ll see how it goes.”

“Spoken word, huh? Wow…I haven’t done one of those in forever.” Erik replied with a smirk.

“Coming back to Texas is nostalgic, ain’t it?” Andrea said with a giggle.

“It is—”

“Oh! Guess what?”

Andrea leaned into Erik with a playful look in her eyes. Erik narrowed his eyes at her in response.

“Are you gonna guess?” Andrea pestered.

“Aight, You’re finally gonna write that book you’ve been talking about all these years.”

“No! I changed my mind about the book,” Andrea rolls her eyes, “the blog…”

Erik’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yep. It’s been so long I had to see what was going on with it.”

Erik chuckled, “Nah. You’re back on there? Drea,” Erik shook his head, “You’re a professor now! What if somebody finds out?”

“Who’s gonna find out, Erik? We never revealed ourselves when we used it. Nobody knows what school we went to or who we were. Well…I think I may have slipped up last night…”

“What the hell did you do, Drea?”

Erik surveyed his surroundings to make sure they were safe to talk about this.

“I got the sweetest confession from a student here and I just had to message them.” Andrea said.

“Okay, what did they say?”

“So, they pretty much confessed to having a crush on someone here and being afraid to approach them…”

“Who?” Erik said impatiently.

“You.”

Andrea laughed at Erik’s expression. He furrowed his brows and looked at her like she was talking gibberish.

“…Did they say who they were?” Erik asked.

His interest was peeked.

“No. All I know is she’s twenty-one, very shy, feels as if she has no chance in hell with you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Erik fussed.

“Because I thought you’d want to know! You need some action in your life, Erik. When was the last time you had sex?”

“Aye, don’t worry about it, girl,” Erik playfully shoved Andrea, “I’m just saying, what am I supposed to do with this information? Like…I don’t even know how the girl looks.”

“You will eventually. I gave her some advice. She may pop up today…”

Erik couldn’t deny that he was intrigued. Could be fun to see how things play out.

“Okay, okay…the log in still the same?”

Andrea smirked, “Still the same. You remember?”

“Yeah…it was my idea, wasn’t it?” Erik smart-mouthed.

“Alright, smart ass.”

Andrea checked the time on her Apple Watch.

“Let me head back to my office. When does your class start?”

“In an hour. I’m gonna head over to the library and do a bit of grading to kill some time.”

Andrea and Erik stood up at the same time. Andrea opened her arms to accept a hug from Erik. She squeezed her old friend and then kissed his cheek.

“Aight, Daka, I’ll catch you later.”

“Have a good class, Drea.”

They parted ways and headed in opposite directions.

Valencia felt cute today.

She did her makeup for once. She dressed in a body con black dress that enhanced her curves. She wore her favorite Carolina Herrera perfume. Anything to get his attention.

On her way to the library after her philosophy class, Valencia entered the library with a grace that turned heads. She took the elevators to the third level of the library, her stomach doing flips because of how nervous she was. She exited onto the third level and walked further into the silent area until she was near the windows that overlooked the campus.

Valencia took a seat and proceeded to retrieve her MacBook, and textbook. She wanted to format her notes with bullet points and colors while the information was still fresh on her mind. It was Friday evening and she didn’t want to spend her weekend catching up on school work. Her cafe noir eyes would look up to see if her crush had shown up yet.

After some time, her attention veered back to the HBCU Confessions blog. She was excited to see that there was a new message from the blog.

-Any luck today?

Valencia typed.

-No 😪

Erik strolled over to a desk diagonal to Valencia. He quickly took his laptop and other work out of his bag. It was the last thing on his mind after what Andrea told him. He opened his laptop and found his way back to Tumblr. Being back sparked memories of mischief and lust. Erik started this blog for laughs and he honestly didn’t expect it to transform into what it is today. What started out as a blog strictly for TSU, expanded to other colleges unexpectedly. So many scandalous things go down at college and it sucked that our people didn’t really have their own way of connecting across HBCUs. So, Erik started the blog for fun, and it quickly evolved.

He’d known secrets about people across colleges. It didn’t matter if you were the dean, a professor, a student, or a coach, your deepest darkest thoughts and feelings were exposed for everyone to see with the option of remaining anonymous. Erik witnessed breakups and hookups. It was a guilty pleasure of his, like watching hentai. Erik had many guilty pleasures. Who didn’t?

He successfully logged back in and found himself staring at hundreds of notifications. The only thing he was concerned with was whoever this anonymous person was that had a crush on him. It’s been a while since he’d been with a woman. Being in the military as an engineer was a busy job. He worked a lot and on top of that he moved around from state to state. Hardly any time to settle down or date. He did date a few women, but it was all a dead end.

Erik found what he was looking for.

ebonygoddess1990s_-No 😪

Erik read the entire thread and couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. He was tickled by Andrea’s advice to his secret admirer. She knew him like she knew her classic literature. He was indeed laidback, quiet, nerdy, and ambitious. The more he read the messages, the more he wanted to find out who this woman was. He decided to respond to their message. Why not? It would be fun to play along. Just like the old days.

-Where are you right now?

Meanwhile, Valencia’s head shot up at her MacBook when she heard the ping of a new message. She read the message.

-Where are you right now?

-Library ☺️

-Usually he’s there around this time.

Valencia looked up and she was staring at him sitting at a table diagonally from her table. He didn’t know that she was eyeing him down since he was focused on his laptop. He wore a pair of slim fit paisley and gray pants with a white button down shirt and brown loafers.

-He’s here now 😳

Erik sat up straighter and his eyes locked with Valencia’s. She quickly averted her gaze to her laptop, tucking her braids behind her left ear. Erik took his time admiring Valencia. His eyes started at her feet. She wore a pair of black gladiator sandals with silver spikes on them. She had red painted toes and smooth, brown legs. His onyx eyes ascended further up her body, over the curve of her hip, the hourglass shape of her waist, her toned arms, ample cleavage, neatly braided hair, and then finally her beautiful face.

He really really liked the shape of her lips. Large and wide set with a plump, pouty appearance and equally full on the top and bottom. He’d seen plenty of beautiful women every day, but whoever this girl was, she was the most beautiful. It was her rich, brown skin. Her pretty doe eyes. That body. Erik was certain that she’s his secret admirer, but he needed to be sure. Excitement brewed in him as he typed a response.

-You should say hi. Get his attention.

-I’m nervous 😭

-Don’t be. Just go for it. How else will you know if he’s interested?

-I dare you to give him a flirty wave with a seductive smile. 😏

Valencia’s eyes went round with surprise. That was bold. Bolder than she initially planned to be. She cleared her throat and turned in her seat. Crossing one leg over the other, Valencia flipped her braids so that it gave her a messy look and then she made her eyes look sleepy and hypnotic like Dorothy Dandridge. She took a deep breath in and focused her gaze on Erik steadily. After five seconds, he looked up and did a double take. Valencia raised a small hand and waved at him slowly while her lips were formed in a smile.

Erik simply smirked at her and raked his eyes up and down her frame. That’s all. He just smirked at her and then he dropped his gaze back to his laptop. Valencia gripped the back of her chair to try and calm her racing heart. That slight interaction had her bewitched. He smirked at her and he checked her out. She wanted to jump up and down.

Ping.

-How did it go?

-He smiled at me and then he looked me up and down. 😭 clearly he likes what he sees!

Erik nibbled on his bottom lip to control the urge to smile with all of his teeth. This was so much fun. The most fun he’d had an a long time. It was good to be back.

Erik packed his things so that he could be on his way to the class he needed to assist. As he was getting ready to leave, he felt his phone vibrating with an incoming call. He plucked his cell from his pocket and brought it to his ear. His eyes connected with Valencia’s briefly before turning away.

“Hello? Hey…I was headed there now—really? You sure? Okay…no, no…it’s all good. Uh…I’ll just finish grading everything and drop it off later? Perfect. Alright…see you next Friday…”

Erik ended the call. Fuck it. He didn’t want to assist that class today anyway now that something and someone had his attention more. He stole a glance at her and she was reading from a philosophy textbook. He knew philosophy well. So well that he tutored for it. Erik had an idea. He took his seat again and brought his laptop back out. He opened it to the messages and began typing away.

-That’s a good thing 😌 What’s he doing now?

-He was going to leave but changed his mind. I wonder why. Hmmm…maybe he can’t get enough of me lol

-maybe 🤔 lol. What are you doing now? Are you studying?

-I am. It’s philosophy. It’s so boring but I have to do it.

-Philosophy, huh? He actually tutors philosophy.

Valencia giggled to herself and shook her head.

-Why am I not surprised. He’s so smart 😍

Erik licked his lips. She was infatuated with his intellect. He liked that.

-You want another dare?

Valencia looked heavenward. Erik peeked over at her.

-Okay. What do you dare?

Valencia’s eyes veered from her laptop to Erik again.

Ping.

-I dare you to ask him to be your tutor.

Valencia exhaled louder than she’d expected to. She brought a hand to her belly to calm the butterflies. That actually wouldn’t be a bad idea. She just needed to calm her nerves. Valencia counted down from ten in her head and stood up from her seat. She paused with her fingertips against her philosophy textbook before lifting it from the table. She pressed it against her, beneath her cleavage, hugging it with both arms like those school girls from teen dramas.

She started making her way towards him slowly. Erik didn’t look away from his laptop until she was standing next to him. Being that close to him, his features more prominent, Valencia couldn’t find the words to speak. Erik looked up at her through his glasses and gave her a friendly smile before recognition washed over his face.

“Hi.” Erik said.

“Hi…”

Valencia shifted her focus on the empty seat at the table. She took a moment to gather herself before scooting out the chair and making herself comfortable.

“Weren’t you in the elevator the other day?” Erik said.

“Yeah…yeah that was me,” Valencia smiles.

Erik nodded his head, “You look different.”

She wasn’t as dolled up and she was soaked from head to toe.

“I didn’t look very flattering,” Valencia released a dry chuckle, growing more bashful the more his eyes were on her.

“No, what I mean is…you’re not all wet.”

Valencia blinked at Erik. Heat crept up her face. The way he said wet…

Erik’s eyes fell to the book that pushed her titties up.

“Philosophy. What’s your major?”

“Psychology.” Valencia replied.

“It doesn’t matter how slowly you go, as long as you don’t stop…”

He sounded those words out so smooth like he was serenading her. Valencia furrowed her brows at Erik’s response. Her full lips parted invitingly.

“…What?” She questions.

“Confucius. Confucianism? the importance of having a good moral character?”

“Oh—oh!”

Valencia sat her textbook down and giggled.

“Right, right…I had a brain fart.”

Erik laughed.

“Uhm…do you tutor?”

Valencia leaned in, unknowingly exposing her cleavage more. Erik fought the urge to look, focusing his penetrating gaze on her face.

He adjusted his glasses very studiously, “I do actually.”

“That’s perfect actually,” Valencia folds her arms against the table, “I could use a tutor. You seem to be well versed in the subject.”

Valencia looked at Erik expectantly with those doe eyes and honestly she could have whatever she wanted if she kept staring at him like that.

“Are you asking me?” Erik quirked a brow.

“…Please?”

Valencia folded her hands and pouted her bottom lip. It was adorable.

“Are you free after five?” Erik inquired.

“I am, actually. Tonight I have plans with friends but I can meet at five.”

“Alright,” Erik shut his laptop, “We can study in the lounge at the dorms. Wait…”

Erik touched Valencia’s arm, stopping her from standing. The hairs on her arm stood up like a jolt of electricity coursed through her.

“I didn’t catch your name…”

“Oh…sorry. Valencia.”

“Nice to formally meet you, Miss Valencia. I’m Erik.”

“I remember.”

They smiled at each other. Erik stood up, placing his laptop in his bag. Valencia took her time retrieving her textbook, unsure of what else to say.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye for now—”

“Valencia?”

Isaiah.

The last person she’d hope to run into. He looked irritated with her as he approached them. Valencia fixed her face into a look of frustration and Erik noticed straight away. The tension between them was palpable.

“What it do, shawty? You avoiding me?”

Valencia looked between Erik and Isaiah. Isaiah loomed closer, draping his arm around her shoulder. Valencia rolled her eyes.

“What can I do for you, Isaiah?” Valencia quipped.

“Did you block me?”

“I did—”

“For what? Didn’t we have a good time?”

Valencia pursed her lips and shut her eyes.

“Isaiah, don’t make me embarrass you…”

Truthfully, she was the one embarrassed at the moment. Erik’s eyebrows ticked up and the corner of his mouth twitched. Isaiah cut his eyes at Erik, sizing him up initially before he recognized him.

“Oh, shit what’s poppin’, Poet?”

Isaiah raised his hand to dab Erik. Erik slowly brought his hand forward and their palms collided with a loud smack and a firm grip. Erik released his hand and watched as Isaiah discreetly flexed his fingers.

“Don’t mind us, just tryna see why my girl mad at me.”

Isaiah clearly couldn’t read the room.

“I’m not your girl, Isaiah.”

Valencia lifted his arm from around her and turned to leave. She threw Erik a furtive glance before retreating quickly.

“Valencia!”

Shhhhhhhhhh!

He was in a library after all.

Isaiah was ready to chase her down but Erik yoked him up by his backpack to stop him.

“Gahdamn, Bro,” Isaiah fixed his bag.

“She’s not interested, One Pump Chump.”

“Fuck you and that nickname. That was one fucking time. I was drunk.”

“Yeahhhh and I’m sure the same happened with Valencia?”

Isaiah glared dangerously at Erik.

“If it didn’t happen that way, it shouldn’t matter, right?”

Erik slapped Isaiah on the back and proceeded to walk away.

“I’ll catch you later, little bruh.”

Erik threw up a hook and twisted his tongue before descending the stairs with a laugh.

[green-and-grey]

oh hey my Koda Vista ebay alert is still active. did uh. did we know about this version? is this the one that was sold at the hometown shows? i thought that one was also half and half like the Black Friday reissue, not splatter. did i just totally miss this??

[13eyond13]

Sometimes I still think about how sweet it was when that anon checked on me last year when I was posting overly dark jokes. Thank you whoever you were, that was kind

[lilgynt]

my mom found the thing that started the fight that got me kicked out. so i was right. in my fantasies this happens and it’s great in real life im gonna jump her

[transurgender]

literally everytime i look up a character to see who they were va'd by it always links back to persona 5 somehow. help me.

[bingobongobonko]

i bought citizen sleeper and as i expected i ruined my sleep schedule and i fully intend to continue my game as soon as i do my morning chores. god is so cruel. why do cool games with heartwrenching stories exist. youre ruining my life

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[astrxealis]

it is so weird being a mentor now ... ;O

( tags got really sentimental at the end WHEEZE beware if you check T___T )

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist

[suzukiblu]

excerpt from in-progress "timebending with Zuko" fic

Zuko wakes up and everything hurts.

Most specifically, his scar hurts.

That . . . doesn’t make sense, he thinks, and reaches for it automatically. A strong hand catches his wrist before he can touch it, which seems–fair, yes. Probably a good idea, anyway, because spirits does it hurt. Just . . . so much.

“Uncle?” he asks reflexively, attempting to open his eyes. It’s surprisingly difficult. And Uncle is in Ba Sing Se, of course, but he’s on his back on a futon or bedroll or something similar and someone’s sitting beside him and his head is swimming and he’s injured, clearly, so options for who said “someone” might be are limited, really.

So it’s not Uncle, obviously, but . . .

“Nephew,” Uncle says, very quietly, and Zuko . . . blinks.

At least, half-blinks. The one eye’s in too much pain to open.

The ceiling is metal, he notes absentmindedly. That’s . . . odd. He was in the palace, wasn't he?

“What happened?” he asks, vaguely bemused. Uncle pauses in a very concerning way, and Zuko has about three heart attacks about just how badly he doesn’t want to know what he’s about to say before–

“The Agni Kai,” Uncle says, very carefully. “Do you remember it?”

Zuko frowns–just with the one side of his face, because again, his scar hurts right now. To the point that his whole body feels wrong, does his scar hurt right now.

“Um–which one?” he asks, because there’s been about a dozen this month alone, and frankly he’s getting really sick of fighting them at this point but if the old guard of nobles are just going to keep dragging everything out like this–

“With your father, Nephew,” Uncle says, very carefully.

Zuko . . . blinks.

“Oh,” he says, vaguely perplexed. Uncle never talks to him about that. “Yeah, I remember that. What about it?”

“Do you remember what happened?” Uncle says.

“The part where I disgraced myself or the part where he burned my face?” Zuko says, because it’s so fucked up and awful and horrible that he can’t even get upset about it anymore, except when he’s really upset about it. But if Uncle’s bringing it up, presumably he has a good reason to be, so . . . “Or the whole ‘go find the Avatar who no one even believes exists anymore or you can never come home again’ part?”

“. . . all of that, yes,” Uncle says, still sounding very careful. Zuko frowns a little–again with just the one side of his face–and then looks over at him. His body still feels weird and wrong, but . . .

But . . .

They’re on a ship, he realizes. A Fire Nation one.

Well, explains the metal ceiling.

It doesn’t explain why Uncle is wearing red armor and a topknot like he hasn't in years, though, or why he looks so unspeakably sad.

“Um,” Zuko says, and attempts to sit up. His head immediately starts swimming even worse, and Uncle catches his shoulders and keeps him pinned against the . . . futon? Looks like a futon, yeah. “Where are we, exactly?”

“We are aboard a ship,” Uncle says. “I . . . may have slightly commandeered it.”

“. . . you paid for it, right?” Zuko asks, a little skeptical at that idea.

“Yes, Nephew, I did,” Uncle says, giving him a very tired, pained smile. Zuko doesn’t feel much better, seeing it.

“Is someone dead?” he asks, because he can’t think of anything else that would make Uncle look that way.

“Ah–no, no one has died,” Uncle says.

“Then what’s wrong?” Zuko asks warily.

“. . . you are injured, Nephew,” Uncle says, slowly. Zuko frowns, bemused. “And your father . . . I did not know he was going to do this. I am so sorry.”

Zuko . . . pauses. Looks around the room again, and then realizes: he knows this room, doesn’t he. He knows this ship.

This is the same ship he woke up on after the Agni Kai.

“Hold that thought, Uncle,” he says, then lifts his hands and looks at them. They . . . well, they are his hands, obviously.

But they’re not his hands, obviously.

“Huh,” he says, frowning in bemusement at them; turning them around like he half-expects them to stop being a thirteen year-old’s or something equally ridiculous. They don’t. They are very definitely a thirteen year-old’s hands.

Specifically, his thirteen year-old hands.

Huh.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says after a moment, putting his hands back down and glancing back to Uncle, who’s obviously the more important concern. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I took you into that meeting,” Uncle says, his voice tight. “And I watched the Agni Kai. And I did nothing to stop any of it.”

“I know,” Zuko says. “But it wasn’t your fault.”

“It was,” Uncle says, his smile a sad and terrible thing. “You were there because of my actions. My mistakes.”

“You’re not the one who wanted to sacrifice all those soldiers,” Zuko says. “Or the one who decided to throw fire at my face.”

“You were there because of me,” Uncle repeats, his voice tight and his smile no less terrible. It occurs to Zuko, briefly, that Uncle must be thinking of Lu Ten.

He only ever looks like that when he’s thinking about Lu Ten, so . . .

“Uncle,” he says. “Really. It’s not your fault.”

“Nephew,” Uncle says, and his voice is somehow even tighter. Zuko tries to get up again, and his head swims again, and Uncle moves to stop him again. This time he grabs onto Uncle’s wrists and uses them to pull himself up, and then . . .

Well, then he’s sitting up, at least.

So that’s something.

He tilts his head and his hair slips into his eyes. It’s loose, and long. Not shaved on the sides yet, like he wore it the last time he was thirteen. He supposes he should cut it, but then again, why should he? He's not changing anything, after all.

Except for this conversation, he supposes, because that went very differently last time.

. . . hm.

"Uncle," he says one more time, and reaches out for him. Uncle doesn’t seem to understand what he’s trying to do, so he has to reach out a little farther, and then Uncle makes the connection and leans in and lets him wrap his arms around him and alright, yes: that’s better, Zuko thinks, and clings to him.

Just a little, perhaps, but . . .

Yes. He clings to him.

Uncle wraps his arms around him in turn, very carefully, and makes an awful sound.

“My boy,” he chokes. “I’m so–I’m so–”

“I forgive you,” Zuko lies, because of course there’s nothing to forgive.

But of course Uncle doesn’t understand that, does he.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR THE GRUMPY VS SUNSHINE TROPE *  assorted dialogue for that great dynamic between a guarded character and a warmer character, adjust as necessary

GRUMPY CHARACTER

do you ever stop smiling?

life sucks. get over it.

no one ever listens to me. at least, not until you showed up.

i didn't ask for your opinion.

there are more important things i should be dealing with.

i don't talk about my feelings with anyone.

that was a little uncalled for.

i didn't mean to talk your ear off.

i work better on my own.

what did you say to them to get them to listen?

i don't want to talk to you. in fact, i don't want to talk to anyone.

can you just leave me alone?

i never said i would help you.

you can't just talk your way out of problems.

everything was fine until you showed up.

now if you'll excuse me, i have better things to do.

what's so great about this place, anyway?

my opinion doesn't matter anyway.

i don't have time for "fun."

i just want to get this done and go home.

that's never been up to me to decide.

do you stick your head into everyone's business, or just mine?

if it's all the same to you, i'd prefer to be alone.

no one asked you to get involved.

i don't have a choice. it's my duty.

you're interrupting me again.

can we talk about this another time?

you've been listening to me talk for an hour now.

how do you stay so positive all the time?

i'm perfectly content just the way i am, thank you very much.

can't you see they're taking advantage of you?

SUNSHINE CHARACTER

i wish you would just listen to what i have to say.

i have to try and stay positive. it's the only way we get through this.

nothing good can come from constant negativity.

i believe in myself because no one else will.

i've seen what happens when the bad outweighs the good.

we just have to stay strong.

you never know what someone is going through.

i am capable of more than you give me credit for.

i don't think you're a bad person.

there's so much more to life than this.

you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

have you tried being nice to them?

a compliment goes a long way.

i choose to be kind.

i just don't see the point in staying silent.

i'm just trying to look out for you.

there's no need to be rude.

we could work together as a team. did you ever think about that?

if you need my help, i'm here for you.

you should smile more often.

i wish you would just be yourself.

for what it's worth, i like who you are now.

we don't have to fight all the time.

being soft is not a weakness.

i want to make this work between us.

despite all that, i'm still here for you.

if you ever want to talk, i'm here to listen.

you're not as bad as you make yourself seem.

i've never seen you that way.

i've come to care about you.

[kookslastbutton]

Baby Maker ༓ kth (m)

✑ Summary: You're pissed at your husband for being late to your weekly baby-making sessions.

Pairing: husband!taehyung x fem!reader

AU/genre: pwp, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 2,473

Warnings: light fighting, hard dom!taehyung, slight brat sub!reader, make up s*x, rough s*x, manhandling, bl*wjob, teasing, b**b groping, degradation (taehyung calls reader a sl*t), impreg k*nk, f*replay, penetration, r*ding, d*ggy, d*rty talk, d*ck slapping, taehyung refers to himself as daddy, mention of aftercare, trouble taking off lingerie bc yeah it be a whole process sometimes.

A/N: seeing Taehyung on esquire...you cannot tell me he doesn't look good omg 🙈 anyway this is filthy sooo I'm going to rock myself to sleep now bc i work on the moring, pls enjoy 💞

"Sweetheart, I didn't mean to be late. I'm sorry."

Taehyung stands in front of you with pleading eyes. He tries not to drop his gaze below your neck, seeing that you're more than pissed at him for getting home nearly an hour later than planned. He feels bad about it, he really does. But he can also easily see his favorite fiery red lingerie peeking out of your silky robe, making him all the more eager to show you how he can make it up to you.

"Well that's too bad Taehyung because I'm not in the mood anymore." You tighten your arms across your chest and stand your ground. If your husband didn't look like sex on legs all the time this would be a lot easier nevertheless, he will not be getting his dick sucked tonight.

"Are you kidding?" He gives you a 'really' look before reaching for one of your wrists. "You're always in the mood for baby making. Been in the mood for months. Come on sweetheart, how many times do I need to tell you I'm sorry? Let me make it up to you."

"No." You swiftly pull away from him. "I'm showering and then going to bed." You head over to your dresser to grab a pair of pajamas to change into. Are you being petty? Maybe. But you and Taehyung have been trying for a baby over the past two weeks. So him being late tonight just feels like he isn't taking any of it seriously.

"Don't even think about trying to come in here," you spit, moving to close the door of the master bathroom. Taehyung gives a small sigh before stopping the door with his hands. Your eyes avert to the motion immediately—damn his fingers for being so long and sleek.

"Baby I know I shouldn't have been late, and I know you're horny but aren't we being the tiniest bit stubborn here?"

"What the hell did you say?" You can't believe your ears. "You think this is me just being stubborn and horny? No, this is me-, you pause, scrambling for words. "I'm punishing you!" You point at him accusingly.

"Punishing me by withholding sex? From being an hour late tonight? I get it baby, I do but is that what you really want? To take a shower, then go to sleep." He pushes his way through the door and walks up to you until he's towering over you. His warm blonde locks drape over his eyes— you know how soft they feel in your hands. "Or," his deep honeyed voice teases near your ear as he tugs on one of your robe's straps. "Do you want to take off this useless piece of material and I'll show you how sorry I am?" He sets his hands on your hips, tracing down the fabric of your robe. "I'll let you ride me," he husks.

You bite the inside of your cheek, desperately trying to keep yourself from throwing yourself at him. It's not every night that you're allowed to top with a husband as alpha as Taehyung in the bed. And the way his hands are moving so sensually up and down your sides is making you shudder with arousal.

"Fuck you. Fuck you to the moon and back Taehyung."

"Great, let's start that tonight." Taehyung takes it as a go and you pound on his back with your fists when you feel your whole body being slung over his shoulder. He plops you on the bed within seconds and crawls up to you in a straddling position—thighs on either side of your waist. "I swear to god __, our baby better not inherent this stubborn streak of yours." He starts untying the knot of your robe and prys the material open to slip down your shoulders.

"What baby?" You sit up a little to let him remove it. "The only baby you seem to be making is with Park Jimin. You were at his house all day. Or was it Jungkook? Did you have a threesome with them?"

"For fucksake, no I wasn't having a threesome with those idiots who can't even get their dicks out of their pants." He tosses the robe to the side, cock swelling at the sight of you underneath him in lacey red lingerie and black lace garters—this he did not see before. "And I'm not into Jimin, he's too into his porno films. Now enough whining. I said I was sorry."

"You were watching porn with Jimin?!" Your eyes go large as saucers. Apparently, that's all you heard. Taehyung lets out a throaty growl, more than fed up with your attitude tonight.

"No I wasn't! Stop it. I wasn't fucking or watching people fuck." He holds your wrists down on the mattress to keep you from moving about. "You get so goddamn needy. I didn't realize you could get this horny."

"I told you its not about—"

"Shut up and let me kiss you." Taehyung presses his mouth against yours, biting your lower lip like a sin. You squirm underneath his hold but end up moaning when he slips his tongue into the small crease between your lips.

"Taehyung," you let out a breathy gasp when you feel his fully hardened cock brush against your center. Not much else gets to come out after that as Taehyung continues to lick every corner of your mouth, toying with your tongue at the same time.

It's when he finally breaks from your lips to trace wet kisses along the curve of your neck that you can catch your breath again. His firm hold on your wrists also loosen, but you know exactly where they're moving next.

"Did you really expect me to believe you'd put on my favorite lingerie with these godforsaken garters only to not have your brains completely fucked tonight?" He squeezes your breasts and rolls his thumbs around your nipples, feeling them harden with the friction.

You choose to remain silent this time, slightest smirk on your face which no doubt irritates your husband to no end.

"Don't want to say anything anymore Mrs. Kim?" He fiddles with the front of your bra, specifically the tiny hook that's holding the cups together. "Nothing at all? Just gonna lay there and stare at me with those beautiful lusty eyes?"

"You know I was feeling really guilty earlier," Taehyung rasps, leaning back to throw his shirt over his head. "I was afraid you were actually mad at me and at first I think you were. But..." He reaches to unbuckle his belt. "Now you're just acting like a brat to tick me off."

You bite down a whimper when his cock bounces free, practically throbbing to be inside something. You've taken Taehyung many times with tears streaming down your face, each round reminding you of his massive size.

"Fuck," he groans as he takes himself in his palm. "If you want to be treated like a brat so much then it's your lucky day." He straddles your sides again, the head of his cock falling proudly in front of your lips. "Open," he demands, but you bite your lip; feigning innocence.

Your husband is not impressed, however. "Quit acting like you've never seen cock before," he barks. "You're the furthest thing from a virgin so open up."

Rude, you think before slowly sticking your tongue out until it touches the slit of his cock. You know it'll piss him off but you decide it's fun to keep swirling around the sensitive area, collecting the pre-cum dripping out.

"Shit, don't." Your husband groans and screws his eyes shut to keep himself from coming early.

You should take this as a warning but you're far too pleased of yourself so you continue teasing him, making sure a few purposeful moans slip out as you lick around his tan tip.

"Fuck I'm gonna blow my load in ten seconds if you don't stop. Baby, stop."

You ignore your husband's pleas and wrap your lips around the head of his length, sucking it with determination. As if to counter the filthy action you sparkle your eyes up into his dark ones. You make them as big as you can. Anytime now and he'll-

"I said stop you fucking slut!" The words are barked at you without warning. Taehyung takes his cock from you and slaps it across your cheek. A very sticky substance smears on your face. "Now, get my dick wet or nothing's going into that slutty little cunt."

You widen your mouth to take him deeper at his threat but it's too slow—or Taehyung's too impatient. Either way, his thick length shoves to the back of your throat and starts running in and out of your mouth with a vengeance. You choke at the intensity of each thrust, vision blurring due to the tears building.

"Is it too much sweetheart?' He provokes, beads of sweat line his forehead and a vein threatens to pop from his neck any second. "Too big for your pretty mouth to handle?"

You feel yourself clench as the heavy weight of his length glides faster on your tongue. The anticipation of his release is killing you and though you can't speak, right now, you want your husband to make you look like such a messy whore that his come fills your mouth and spills down your tits. Then you want him to flip you over, prop your ass up, and fuck you until burning hot sensation courses through your body.

While in thought, Taehyung takes the opportunity to slip himself out of your mouth. A string of spit can't help but follow with it.

"But—"

"It's plenty wet now," Taehyung smirks at your obvious distress. He moves to take your panties and garter off next. "Fuck," he swears in frustration. "How do you get this off dammit?" You help him wiggle yourself out of the contraption (which ends up taking a good five or six minutes).

As soon as the lace fabric is discarded, you find yourself quickly being lifted on his hardened member. Taehyung makes sure you're well-supported before roughly thrusting up into your wet cunt. Your breasts bounce to the rhythm he sets, tempting him to go faster.

"I promised I'd let you ride me didn't I?"

"Not—what I—had in mind," you pant. "Fuck, Taehyung you're always so fucking big—ah!" You grip his shoulders when his cock perfectly hits your g-spot.

"Good to see you've found your voice again baby. I was beginning to think you were going to give me the silent treatment this whole night."

"Shut—ah shit—yes, Taehyung, right there! Faster, fuck!" You moan, too caught up in the way his cock is making you feel to care about talking back.

"What a filthy mouth on you Mrs. Kim. No one taught you any manners?" He darts his tongue out to gently graze across a nipple. At the action, you start moving with his thrusts; meeting them in sync.

"So good Taehyung." Your eyes flutter shut. "If this doesn't get me pregnant then—"

You squeal when you're suddenly thrown off his cock and turned on your stomach. With your ass positioned nice and high in the air, your husband can see every trace of your arousal.

"Don't worry about that sweetheart." His cock pushes back into your pussy, teeth nipping at your ear ever so gently but enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Daddy's definitely gonna make you a mommy tonight."

Taehyung caves over you to fully cover your back before picking up the same pace as before. "You want my cum baby?" He grunts. "Want me to fill you up and make you round with my child?"

"Yes-yes." You grip the sheets underneath you for leverage. "Want you to put a baby in me Taehyung."

"Fuck—say that again." He growls and continues snapping his hips. The sound of skin slapping on skin is so lewd but you and Taehyung can't be bothered by the noise when you're breathing so heavily in each other's ear.

"I want you to put a baby in me Tae."

"Louder."

"I want—," you struggle to repeat the words when you feel your walls tighten around his length. Your stomach churns too and the way his cock fucks in you gets seemingly harder to take.

"Close baby?"

"Mm." You barely respond, too focused on getting to your high.

"And to think you were simply going to shower and sleep tonight." He circles back to your earlier argument with the cockiest smirk on his face but it's wiped off as quick as it came when you start grinding your hips to meet his thrusts.

"That's it," Taehyung clenches his teeth. "Get yourself off—holy fuck you feel so goddamn tight around me."

"I'm—I'm coming!" Once the cord snaps in you, your eyes roll to the back of your head. Ropes of your cum drip over your husband's length, covering it completely, and down part of your inner thigh. Taehyung's cock twitches in response and his breaths turn into aggressive pants as he starts chasing after his own release.

"Shit baby, shit! I'm so fucking close. Gonna breed this pussy, tell me you want it one more time baby."

"Mm, yes, want it so bad," you let out a strained moan. "Come in me—ah daddy!" His length reaches a little further this time, making you yelp.

"Shit, you okay baby?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Keep moving. It just surprised me."

"If I go too hard, tell me okay?" You respond with the loudest 'mhm' you can.

After a few more broken groans and profanities your husband finally finishes with his cum painting your walls less than thirty seconds later.

A long sigh of relief leaves both your lips when you roll over on your backs—sweaty, sore, and satisfied.

"Wasn't expecting you to call me daddy in bed." Taehyung lazily hovers near your body and presses a kiss to your lips. You allow his tongue to slip in for a minute before shoving him off.

"Don't get used to it, mister. And don't ever slap me with your dick again. I'm all sticky."

"I'm sorry, do you want me to draw you a bath?"

"You best believe I do."

"Yes ma'am." Taehyung goes to get up but he falls back down. "Can you give me like ten minutes first? We went a little hard tonight, I can't really feel my dick."

"You sure about that?" You reach over to gently grip his length.

"Shit—hurts baby."

"Sorry." You grin, not sorry at all. "I'm sure it'll be fine in the morning."

Taehyung looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes. "Are you kidding? It'll be fine by the time I get you in the bath."

A/n: ...goodnight 😇

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[inkedbybarnes]

anything

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: bucky is determined to take care of you while you're sick.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: mentions of insecurities, mentions of illnesses (but vaguely described), fluffy ahh shit bc why not, usage of pet names such as baby and doll. bucky being stubbornly sweet (it is indeed, a warning), lowercase writing.

i've been sick the past few days hence the creation of this fic. idk why my mood drops when i'm sick... once again, this is too fluffy even for my own good but i warned you and you're reading it still anyway. 🤨 haha jk, i hope you enjoy this one! 🩷

dividers by @cafekitsune!

reblogs, comments, and likes are highly appreciated! thank you. ♡

“can you please let me in, baby?"

that was the fifth time bucky had asked the same question, never giving up on his mission to take care of you after learning from jarvis – out of all people... or robots? – that you were sick.

“bucky, i promise, i'm fine. stop trying to break the door,” you answered, your clogged nose not helping as you sounded horrible even with a concrete wall separating you from him. “go and tell steve that you're joining the mission. you can't withdraw yourself just because i'm—achoo!”

your nose began to leak, and you were now distracted with the need to find the tissue box that used to be on your bed. you didn't hear the door clicking open as well as the heavy footsteps of a certain soldier walking towards you.

“just because you're what? sick?”

you jumped, feeling the edge of the bed sink with his weight. you quickly grabbed the tissue box that was mysteriously thrown under the bed before facing bucky with the duvet covering most of your body.

“how did you open the door?”

bucky shrugged. “i broke the doorknob. you didn't say anything about breaking doorknobs.”

you sighed, not winning this argument with bucky. “you shouldn't be here, bucky. you're supposed to be preparing for a mission tomorrow, not babysitting me!”

“and let you go through this on your own? tough chance, doll. i'm your boyfriend for fuck's sake, and don't tell me that you're worried about getting me sick because we both know i'm immune," he argued, reaching out and pulling the blanket down enough to reveal your face. “are you really upset that i want to take care of you? you should be demanding things from me, baby. instead you've been hiding from me.”

“because i don't need anything, bucky. i can handle myself just fine." you huffed, knowing you wanted his attention and care so badly. remembering your face was exposed, you felt insecure again. you dragged the cover back up and turned away. “i also don't want you to see me like this.”

“like what?"

“like a mess," you muttered underneath the sheets. “you've never seen me like this before, and i swear i am the worst when i'm sick. you don't have to see me like this, okay? i don't want you to.”

you felt silly. it was completely normal to get sick, but you hated how extreme your body would act out whenever an illness would attack you. you'd always sound and look like you were fighting a battle in hell alone. the way your mind would take an entire flip and drag you to your lowest point didn't help either. so, not only were you feeling physically horrible, you were also struggling mentally.

“a mess? what mess?” he asked, lifting the cover to join you underneath it which caught you off guard. you were entirely exposed to his eyes now. “there's my girl. where's the mess that you're talking about, huh?”

with the little amount of energy left in you, you brought your hands up to cover your face. he could see how much of a mess you were now, far from the dream you've painted since the day you dated him. now, you were nothing but a nightmare of your reality.

“don't you dare hide from me. i haven't seen you all day and it's driving me insane," he complained, pulling your hands away from yourself. he brought his thumb to your teary eyes, wiping the tears away before they could fall. “i can't believe you're hiding from me just because you think i can't handle seeing you sick. what did you think i'd do once i saw you like this?”

you sniffed, hesitation holding you back from telling him the truth. it's only been three months since you've started dating bucky, and you were still in that stage where you'd constantly try impress him.

you weren't faking yourself, no. however, you still did your best to only show your good side and tuck away your insecurities. unfortunately, you had to get sick too soon and have to risk bucky seeing you this way.

“you thought i'd leave you? won't like you anymore? get turned off or something?”

you nodded, knowing that was exactly what went through your head and a bit pissed that he was able to read your mind without actually having the power to do so.

bucky's eyes softened at your confession, letting out a soft sigh as he saw how badly you were beating yourself up.

“if it's because of how you look right now, then it's true. you do look different," he answered, your chest tightening. “your eyes lost their glow, you're frowning more often, your eyes are all puffy, you are definitely grumpier than usual, your lips are dry and chapped from—”

“okay, i get it, bucky! you don't have to rub it in my fa—”

“but i won't be doing whatever is on your mind. you're sick, doll. it'll affect you. it's normal. hell, i look even worse when i used to get sick, but you? you still look so fucking lovely." he held your face gently, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “even then, i don't give a fuck on how messy you can get. i'm your boyfriend. i should be taking care of you, helping you feel better, and bringing back the glow in your eyes. please, baby. let me take care of you.”

this time, you were looking back at him. "you mean it?"

"of course I mean it," he replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "i love you, doll. i don't care how you look like right now. you could look like a swamp monster and be sick as a dog, and i would still think that you are the most beautiful woman for me."

you giggled softly, his words filling you with warmth and reassurance. you felt so lucky to have a man who truly loved you and handled your insecurities with such understanding and care, and even sillier for thinking he'd leave you for such reasons.

“thank you. that really made me feel better," you told him, your arms slowly creeping forward to hold him. “i'm sorry for hiding. i was just scared to turn you off or anything.”

“are you kidding? i'm trying my best not to hold you down and kiss you all over. i haven't even hugged you for a day,” bucky said, a pout on the verge of forming on his face.

“it hasn't even been a day, bucky. now, who's dramatic?" you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “and you're supposed to be on a mission tomorrow! are you really not going?”

“when i could be here taking care of you?” he asked, as if the answer was already obvious. “the others can handle it. my main priority is to do anything you want and make you feel better.”

“anything?”

he smiled, leaning down to let your lips meet softly. "anything."

( a lil bonus < 3 )

“what is that smell?”

sam, steve, and natasha entered the compound after a quick briefing for their mission tomorrow. they joined tony and clint who were having a casual conversation in the living room about the best burrito in town.

the kitchen was an open space, the aroma of whatever bucky was cooking spreading all around the nearby rooms.

sam didn't hesitate to come closer and inspect the kitchen, finding the entire counter lined up with various spices and plates that bucky filled with his dishes.

“what's the occasion? did i miss something?" sam asked, grabbing a fork to take a little taste until bucky slapped his hand away. "ow! what was that for?"

"hands off." bucky warned, frowning at sam. “that's not for you, wilson."

“not even a nibble? come on, man. it smells amazing!”

their usual bickering caught the attention of the other avengers, immediately joining them in the kitchen which annoyed bucky even more when he saw them eyeing the food he made.

"before any of you try to ask, no. this is not for any of you."

"who's it even for?" natasha asked, the least interested to have a taste, but was curious either way.

bucky answered with your name. "she's sick."

"what? since when?" clint asked, worry flashing across his face. "can we do anything?"

bucky glanced up before hesitantly answering. "well.. she did say she wanted to watch a movie after eating."

clint snapped his fingers and smiled. "i'm on it."

"i'll get jarvis to check on her vitals every hour and create a diagnosis," tony said, already tapping on his smart watch. "assuming she wouldn't be too comfortable letting the entire team know what's going on with her body, i'll just let you receive the updates. just update me with what you can, yeah?"

"i'll talk to fury and let you both have a week free from work," steve offered. "she needs the rest and she needs you."

"oh, i'll handle fury. he can't say no to his favourite," natasha said with a smug smile. "tell her i'll bring her all her favourite snacks once we're back from our mission, and that she better be back to full health so we can go out together."

bucky nodded, chest warming with the genuine concern they shared. he was excited to let you know how loved and deserving of all this you were.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[puppynosed]

I need to stop coming here just to vent lol butttt today absolutely SUCKED.

[elodieunderglass]

the first chapter of Moby Dick rewritten in tiresome modern idiom

CHAPTER 1. Loomings.

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - it's none of your business how many - being mostly broke, and bored with the land part of the world, I thought I would sail around a little and look at the watery part of the world. I'm probably the most mentally healthy person you know. Whenever I feel my face getting grim; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself accidentally reading the ads in the window of funeral homes, and following funeral processions through traffic; and especially when I'm hangry, and only my extremely strong moral principles stop me from deliberately going out in public and methodically slapping people's earbuds out - then I know it's high time to get to sea, ASAP. This is my substitute for getting in fights. I'm too mentally healthy to kill myself; I quietly and considerately put myself on a ship and sail myself away instead. There is nothing surprising in this. Everyone feels exactly the same way, and if they don't, they're lying.

You think I'm lying? Exhibit A: a city. Go to your local coastal city. Everyone is looking at the water. They drive over from other neighborhoods just to come to the water. They make a day of it. They're not doing anything, they're just staring at the ocean. Why? Is it because they all work office jobs? No! Here come more of them! They cram themselves up to the edge of the water and stare at it. WHAT DO THEY WANT? WHAT ARE THEY LOOKING AT. Perhaps the ships themselves all packed together, each one with several compasses on it, creates some kind of critical mass - all of the small compass-magnets on all the ships in the harbor combining into one really big magnetic field - and the people get sucked into the field and trapped there. That's science.

Exhibit 2: the countryside with lakes in it. Every path you follow in the countryside brings you to some water, such as a stream. There is magic in it. If you take your standard fool with ADHD dissociating in the middle of a supermarket and put them outside and give them a shove, they'll automatically lead you to water (if there is any nearby) (try it). Another good experiment to try is to get lost in the great American desert in a caravan supplied with a metaphysical professor! Try it in the great American desert at home!

Yes, as everyone knows, meditation and water are a match made in heaven. Married forever. That's science.

Here's an artist who wants to paint you the dreamiest, most enchanting landscape. What does he put in it? Trees, meadow, cows, a cottage with smoke coming from the chimney, obviously. He will probably put a path in it and make lots of triangular mountains in rows and have them be different shades of blue (naturally.) But there's gotta be a stream in it. Go visit the prairies in June, and wade for forty miles through knee-deep through tiger lilies. What's missing from this picture? Water!

If Niagara Falls was made of sand instead of water, would you travel your thousand miles to see it? Why would a guy given a handful of cash have trouble deciding whether to buy a coat (which he needed) or go to the beach? Why are all the best, healthiest, sexiest and most mentally healthy people obsessed with the sea? (You get me.) When you were first on a boat, did you not succumb to VIBES? Consider ancient Persia. Consider ancient Greece. They understood about vibes, and also gods.

SURELY ALL OF THIS IS NOT WITHOUT MEANING.

And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all! You get me! You understand it now.

Now, when I say that I am in the habit of going to sea whenever I get weird, don't you dare imply that I buy a ticket and get on a boat. I have never had money in my life. How dare you. Anyway I don't go as a passenger - that's bougie, and something boring people do. Passengers never have a good time. And although my C.V. is incredible - I go to sea SO MUCH, you guys, I have lots of experience - I don't go as a boss, or a cook. That sounds like far too much work. Hard work. Disgusting, respectable, bougie, and far too responsible. I can literally only look after myself. Do not ask me to look after ships or shit. In fact, I have only a vague idea of what a ship is. There's so many different kinds of ships - don't get me started and DO NOT GET INVOLVED. Also, I'm allergic to glory.

It's kind of attractive to go as a cook. I mean, I'm allergic to glory and there's some glory attached to the position of the ship's cook, but, like, you're not management-track and so it's still credible. But I don't really want to cook (say) roast chicken. I really fucking love to eat roast chicken. I'm one of the best at doing it actually. I really appreciate when people go out of their way to butter, season, baste and roast a chicken for me. Picture a roast chicken and I am Looking Respectfully at it. Maybe something more, maybe I'm worshipping it. Don't make this weird. If you want to get weird about my relationship with roasted chicken, why aren't you getting weird about the ancient Egyptians? They ate roasted hippos (look it up) and the pyramids were basically pizza ovens. So it's pretty hypocritical to think that I'm being weird about roasted chicken when I've never made mummies out of chickens or built a religious pizza oven dedicated to honoring them: check and mate, haters.

Anyway - I like to go to sea as a manual laborer. A simple sailor. Salt of the earth… er… sea. Yeah, true: as a job it sucks. They make you jump around, order you around, treat you like shit. They expect you to jump around the boat like a grasshopper. And yes, at first, this sucks. It's degrading, especially if you come from a middle-class family. Worse, it's awful if you've already had some kind of professional job before signing on to be the dirt on the boss's boots - like, if you went to college and worked as a teacher and actually got kids to pay attention to you, really feeling this connection to work/teaching/identity or some shit, and now you are just literally the scum on this captain's boots, in the lowest possible job in the world. It hurts! It hurts your dignity. But the hurt, and also the dignity, both wear off in time.

So what if some old bastard sea captain orders me - ME! - to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, compared to the shit in the Bible, compared to the shit in the news, compared to the shit everyone else has to take. Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain’t a slave? Tell me that. We're all just serfs under capitalism, right, so why not just be honest about it: I prefer the honesty. Anyway, however the old sea captains may order me about - slapping and punching of course - I have the satisfaction of knowing that it's the same experience everyone else on Earth has, but more honest. Everyone else in the world is being served the exact same way. Either in a physical or a metaphysical way - sometimes people get the shit beaten out of them in person, sometimes online, sometimes emotionally, it happens to you in EVERY JOB, you sign on to get pushed around and slapped in the teeth: so the point is that when you're a sailor, it's a clean and honest slap. All the workers of the world share the same universal slap to the face that gets passed round, one slap passed all 'round the chain, like paying it forward, but it's a slap; and we should all accept this Universal Slap as the price of living, and then offer each other healing back massages, brother to brother, and slap each other and then kissed the places we slapped, and be happy.

I could examine that but I'm not going to.

Anyway: I always go to sea as a sailor. I've said that already. You're welcome. BUT THE POINT IS, they pay you. If you're a passenger, they don't pay you, at least, not that I've ever heard of [citation needed] (do they pay passengers?? Is there a job I can get where I can be a passenger and get paid?? Look this up.) Yeah so passengers have to pay. And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. (That's Adam and Eve. You get it.) But BEING PAID. GETTING PAID IS THE BEST. NOTHING COMPARES TO GETTING PAID. EVERYONE LOVES THAT SHIT. Which is surprising, since we also apparently believe that money is the root of all evil, and isn't there something in the bible about "no rich people can get into heaven," right? And yet it's universal, literally everyone loves payday. Ah! How cheerfully we send ourselves to hell.

Finally, I always go to sea as a sailor (I've said this already) because it's FRESH AIR AND EXERCISE. Okay so think about ships. Normally, bosses stand on the "bridge" thing, and because we're sailing a boat, the nose is going into the wind and the butt part of the boat is at the back. That's how wind works. But if you think about it, winds usually go in one direction more than other directions (unless the men have been eating beans and farting: it's Pythagoras, look it up) SO if you're a boss standing on the boss-deck, the wind is blowing FROM the sailors TOWARDS you, and YOU ARE ACTUALLY BREATHING THE AIR THAT SAILORS ALREADY BREATHED. The boss THINKS he breathes it first, but he doesn't. He gets the air at the BACK of the boat and sailors get the air at the FRONT. So it's better to be at the front of the boat (sailor) for health reasons. This is a metaphor for life and work, etc.

But I have smelled the sea lots of times as a paid sailor and WHY I should decide to go on a whaling expedition - ok so you know how there's an invisible police officer of the Fates who has me under constant surveillance, who secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way? YOU get me. You know him. "The poor FBI agent tasked with reading my search engine history" YOU GET ME. Anyway, "Ishmael, why, after having a perfectly well-reasoned, and very smart of you, part-time job as a spontaneous random sailor, did you decide to escalate that to joining a WHALING EXPEDITION, which is worse in every way?" Well, ask my fucking secret FBI agent, he can answer better than anyone else. Including me. You get me. Also, obviously, this was predestined, part of the Universe's Grand Programme for its talent show, which was all scheduled way before our time. The concept of sending me on the whaling voyage comes in as a kind of interlude or solo between the main performances of the Universe's great talent show. I bet it was advertised llike,

"PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION OF THE UNITED STATES EMBROILED IN ONGOING LEGAL DISPUTE.

Whaling voyage by some guy called Ishmael.

BLOODY BATTLE IN AFGHANISTAN."

Like a commercial break in between the big acts. A filler episode. Lightens the load for everyone else. Though I can't explain why the stage managers - the Fates - chose such a shitty role for me, a WHALING VOYAGE of all things, when it feels like others were given magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces - it seems a little unreasonable at first. Why doth Ishmael get shat upon, etc. But then I think about all the circumstances, the plot points and motivations that were cunningly presented to me under various disguises - FBI agents, bouts of random hanger, gay awakenings, you get me - and you can see that actually, I was set up. And worse, between them all, these Fates and Circumstances conspired to make me believe it was all my own choice and good judgment. Is Free Will an illusion? Are my decisions bad? We will NEVER know because I, Ishmael, am just a little guy that the Universe plays head games with.

One of the ways the Universe tricked me into starring in this performance and then mocking me for it was the overwhelming idea of the great whale himself (whaling expeditions usually contain whales.) Such a portentous and mysterious monster roused all my curiosity. Then of course, if you have a whale, you have the wild and distant seas where the whale rolls around with his body-the-size-of-an-island; the dangers and nameless perils of the whale; whales are also found in interesting places I haven't seen; this all tipped me over the edge. Maybe normal people could've resisted, but I am tormented with an everlasting itch for obscurity. I hate everyone else's oceans. I want the forbidden seas.

You know The Horrors? Of course you do. You might be surprised that I, the most mentally healthy person you've ever met, a person who is self-aware enough to go to sea when they're at their fucking limits, a guy who likes fresh air and manual labor and normal things, is familiar with The Horrors. Well, you'd be surprised. I know what's good, I'm an extrovert. But I'm still quick to perceive The Horrors. And how I deal with the horrors is a very extroverted thing: I'm social with them, if they'll let me. It's smart to be on good terms with The Horrors. You should always be on good terms with your permanent neighbors. That's how extroverts deal with The Horrors, and I recommend it.

I think that's enough explanation for why I welcomed the whaling voyage. The great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild figments of imagination that pushed me into doing it, the whales came marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah. They marched into my innermost soul in endless processions and occupied it, you see, I was quite helpless under this occupation - I consented to the haunting and the whales marched in to haunt me - and amidst them all was one grand shrouded white phantom, like a snowy mountain in the air.

You get it.

You know how it is, with whales.

(read the actual first chapter of Moby Dick here: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/2701/2701-h/2701-h.htm)

[lanadelnegan]

Hi I’m kinda shy about this one. So the reader has been traveling with dead city cowboy Negan for awhile and she’s liked him for a long time but she’s a virgin and she wants him to take it.

Don't be shy bb, I am a slutttt for dead city Negan. Basically, think of this as if you were in Ginny's shoes, but you're 18.

Our Little Cabin

Dead City!Negan x Reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, NSFW, virgin reader, vaginal sex, fingering, family death (reader's mom), reader seduces the hell out of negan, extreme age-gap (reader is 18, negan is 50ish), masturbating (both), masturbating in front of Negan while he refuses to touch you, daddy-kink, breeding kink, cuddling, pure filth

A/n: If you like slow burn, sexual tension and a "hard to get" daddy Negan, this one is for you. I promise one day I'll finally write a fic without daddy-kink, but today is not that day.

"Can we go home now, Negan? My legs hurt." I complain, dragging my feet lazily through the leaves.

He stops and sighs, resting his hands on his hips. I stop too and stare at him. That damn cowboy hat.. I swear he wears it just to tease me.. and it's working.

"Yeah, doll. Sun'll be going down soon anyway."

"Ugh thank god." My head falls back dramatically and he chuckles as we start our way back.

Negan took me under his wing a few months ago when some assholes attacked Oceanside, killing my family and everyone I know. I was lucky - if you wanna call it that - enough to escape. I ran into Negan in the woods and it's just been me and him ever since. I'm thankful for him, considering I never had a dad or father figure growing up. My mom was my best friend.. and now she's gone. But at least I have him.

I've grown attached to Negan over the recent months.. But something feels.. different lately. I'm not sure what suddenly changed over the last few weeks, but I've caught myself imagining things about him that I shouldn't. Even touching myself to the thought of him. I feel so guilty afterwards, but I can't stop. I've never been with anyone.. never kissed anyone.. never touched anyone. And my body is screaming at me for it. I can't even look at him anymore without imagining what he looks like under his clothes.

"Why're you so quiet, kid?" He glances at me as we walk.

Ugh, I hate it when he calls me kid.

I shrug. "Just thinkin'."

"About?"

"Doesn't matter." And I've convinced myself it doesn't. I'll never be with someone romantically, because for one.. it's the apocalypse. It's not like I have a school full of hot boys lined up ready to ask me to prom. Not that I'd give them a chance anyway. I'd probably be more into the teachers. And second, the man I want would never think of me that way.

"That's not true."

"You don't even know what I'm thinking, so how can you say that?"

"Anything you think about - worry about - matters to me, y/n. So, spill."

We finally make it back to our little cabin. We've been staying in it for awhile, stocking it with food and supplies. No one has found us yet.. It's kinda nice. But I won't get used to it. Because nothing good lasts forever.

I throw myself on the couch dramatically, as if our walk that we've done a hundred times now could've killed me.

"I don't know... I just, I feel like most kids - people - my age have already experienced more in life that I have."

"Like?"

"Sex." I blurt before I can stop myself. I look to Negan to see his reaction, but he's surprisingly not that alarmed. His eyebrows are raised as he studies me, probably more shocked that I actually had the balls to say that in front of him.

"Listen, I don't really feel comfortable doing the whole birds and bees talk with you."

My cheeks turn pink with embarrassment and I nod disappointedly.

"Sorry, it's just.. I - no one's really talked to me about it before. My mom said she would when I was ready.. but then she.. she.." I fight back the tears. I hate crying. You can't come across weak in the times we live in and I've been forced to be strong my entire life.

He looks at me finally and sighs, holding his arm out for me to come snuggle next to him. It's not the first time he's held me as I've cried over my mom. Won't be the last.

I bury my head in his chest, sniffling, as his hand rubs my back.

"Alright, kid. What do you wanna know?" He gives in, feeling sorry for me.

"Well, I know how it works, but I guess I just wanna know what it feels like." I feel him tense underneath me as he adjusts himself awkwardly.

"No boyfriends at Oceanside?"

"There were boys.. but none that I was interested in."

"You'll find someone when the time is right. You're still young."

"Well you don't have anyone, and you're.. not young."

"Jeez, kid. Thanks." He chuckles. "I did have someone. A few someone's actually. Lost them all to this cruel world." He admits and my heart hurts for him.

"Well, you have me now." I get more comfortable, laying my head in his lap and looking up at him. He shifts uncomfortably but eventually relaxes and even strokes my hair lightly.

"Yeah, I do. And nothing is going to happen to you. You're safe with me, doll." Butterflies swirl around in stomach, but I know he doesn't mean that in the way I wish he did. He sees me as a kid.. hell, as his kid. For a moment my heart sinks from jealously at the "someones" he mentioned. Lucky bitches.

"...Negan.. does it.. feel good?" I blush a little.

"Sex? .....Yeah, doll. It fucking feels good."

"Will you.. show me?" I stare up at him innocently and his hand abruptly stops stroking my hair.

He bends over, planting a kiss on my forehead. "Time for bed, darlin'." He pushes me gently up and off his lap before standing and heading to his room. The cabin is small but we each have our own rooms. His is the smaller one, right across from mine. He wanted me to have the bigger one.

I sit on the couch, feeling defeated and stupid. What was I thinking. I relax on the couch for a little longer, choosing to read a book to take my mind off what just happened. After an hour of barely keeping my eyes open, I close the book and head down the hall towards my room. I stop in front of Negan's door, peaking through the crack. He always leaves his door a few inches open just so he can hear if anything happens. My eyes widen when I notice the sheets are barely covering the lower half of his legs, revealing the rest of his body. His tan torso is exposed, showing his peppery chest hair, and his black boxers are low on his waist. I restrain myself from not jumping him right then.

I eventually make my way back to my room and change out of my clothes, throwing on some shorts and a tank top to sleep in. I can't get the image of Negan's body out of my head and find my hand slowly making its way towards my aching center once I'm finally in bed. I close my eyes, imaging Negan between my legs as I touch myself. I don't bother suppressing my moans, confident that Negan is fully asleep. "Mmm, Negan!" The sound of his name rolling off my tongue as I'm pleasuring myself brings me closer to the edge.

"Oh, Negan. Right there!" My door suddenly swings open and I snap my eyes open to see a worried Negan standing in my doorway.. still in his boxers. My hand flies out of my shorts and I throw the sheets over me.

"Oh my god, can you knock?!"

"I - you yelled for me." He says flustered. I notice the way his face reddens when he realizes what I was doing.

I gently pull the covers off me again and spread my legs a little.

"What are you doing, y/n?" He stands in front of me at the doorway, refusing to look at anything other than my eyes. That's okay.. I bet I can make him look at me down there. I like the challenge.

"What's it look like?" My bite the tip of my finger seductively at him before sliding my shorts to the side, completely revealing my pussy to him.

He glances down with a serious look across his face, like he can't believe I'm doing this. And neither can I. This is so unlike me, but I'm so desperate for him I don't even know how to control myself anymore.

The fact that he's still watching encourages me to continue. I use one hand to pull my shorts to the side and the other to slowly slide a finger through my wet slit. "I just wanna know what it feels like, daddy."

I study him closely, noticing the way his jaw ticks at the nickname. My eyes travel lower and I see his bulge through his boxers. It looks so big, but I'd be determined to make it fit no matter what.

My finger dips inside of me and I arch my back a little and moan, putting on a show for him. He stands with his back against the wall, refusing to move.

I start rubbing my clit slowly and get frustrated when he still isn't reacting. "Negan, please touch me."

He rubs a hand down his face with frustration. "Goddamn it, y/n."

"I just.. I need you. Please." I cringe at my desperate attempt to have him touch me. I need this man so bad it's embarrassing.

"I can't, baby."

"But you like watching me, don't you?"

I take it as a yes when he doesn't say anything and that's all I need before pushing myself over the edge. "Negan!" I cry out as my orgasm rushes through me. Even in the dark, I can see the lust burning through his eyes.

"Go to bed, y/n." He demands but I'm unable to read his tone. Is he mad, proud, annoyed?

I fall asleep at the thought of him giving in and touching me. Maybe if I think hard enough, I'll manifest it.. I heard that shit really works.

Negan's POV:

That girl is gonna be the fucking death of me.

She's been so flirty with me lately and I've been trying to ignore it. But fuck if she's not making it hard. Literally.. I'm hard as a fucking rock right now.

I refuse to touch my dick while thinking about her. She's thirty-fucking-three years younger than me for fuck's sake.

She's confused. She doesn't want me, and she damn sure isn't getting me. Apocalypse or not, it's still fucking wrong.

I drag a hand down my face and sigh. I shouldn't have watched her, but I couldn't look away. She flashed her fucking pussy right in my face and I just stood there.. watching her. Fuck me.

My dick is throbbing and I know I won't be able to sleep until I get some relief. "Fuck it."

I pull myself out of my boxers and immediately start stroking my dick. I think about anything but.. her. Fuck.. y/n. That pretty little wet pussy dripping right in front of me. The way she said my name when she came.

"Ahh, fuuuck. Y/n, fuck." I cum hard and fast and immediately regret it afterwards. Fuck is wrong with me.

I can't - and I won't let myself think about her like that again.

Y/n's POV:

I wake up before Negan and decide to read my book some more in the living room. It's a romance novel that I found one day in an abandoned car. I've read it four times already, but it seems to be the only romance I'll ever get in life, so why the fuck not.

"Morning, sunshine." Negan says sleepily as he walks towards the kitchen next to the living room. He grabs a handful of berries we picked yesterday and tosses them in his mouth before making me a cup full and putting them down next to me.

"Morning. Thanks." I say without looking at him.

He sits on the couch next to me. "You wanna talk about last night?"

My cheeks redden. "Nope."

"Okay, then I will." Great, here comes the lecture. "Y/n, I shouldn't have watched you. We both know that. But, I think you're just confused. It's just been the two of us for months now and you're all young and.. fucking horny and shit. But, us? It can't happen."

I stay silent, pretending to read my book.

"Seriously? The silent treatment? You sure did have a lot to say last night."

I remain stubbornly quiet, popping a handful of berries in my mouth.

"Y/n, I don't understand why you're upset right now. Talk to me."

"I'm not upset." I snap. "I'm embarrassed.. humiliated. I was stupid to think you'd ever be into me."

He sighs and I see his head drop out of the corner of my eye. "Darlin', if I was your age, I'd be all fucking over you. Trust me. Please don't be embarrassed, okay? You are hot as shit and any man your age would be lucky to have you. We can forget it happened if that's what you want." He holds his arm out again, and like always, I snuggle into him.

"I don't want to forget." My hand rests against his white t-shirt and I want so badly to slide underneath it and run my fingers through is tummy hair.

A moment of silence goes by before he finally whispers. "Me neither, doll."

I look up at him, my face dangerously close to his. "I love you, Negan."

His hand reaches up to caress my face as if he's scared to hurt me. "I love you too, baby... Just not like that."

He wipes the tear that falls from my cheek and my heart shatters in my chest.

One month later...

My feelings for Negan haven't faded; I'm just better at not showing them. We've been more touchier than usual... cuddling on the couch, holding hands when we walk, but nothing "inappropriate." We also haven't mentioned that night. It's like it never happened, which still hurts when I think about it.

I get done bathing myself off after dinner and slip into my usual sleepwear before crashing to the bed and pulling my book from the nightstand. I could quote every line in it by now.

I start to drift off right before a loud boom hits right outside my window, following a bright flash of lightning. I try to fall asleep, but every time I doze off, another loud boom jolts me awake. I toss and turn for an hour before deciding to do something I know I shouldn't.

I crack Negan's door open slowly, trying not to wake him and gently slip into bed next to him. I also may or may not have taken my sleep shorts off, leaving me in just my pink panties and black tank top. I ease underneath the covers and lay facing him. He's usually a light sleeper, so between the thunder and me sneaking into his bed, I'm surprised he's not awake.

I'm completely still for a good ten minutes, making sure he's still sound asleep before I make any movements. When he lets out a little snore, I slowly slide the blanket down off of him. I imagine myself reaching over and running my fingers through his thick chest hair. I keep sliding the covers down further and further, careful not to wake him, until I get to just below the waistband of his boxers. My eyes trail from the deep v in his abdomen to the black hairs peaking above his underwear and I let myself imagine what it would be like to touch him right now.. to slide my hand down his boxers and feel him. I've wondered how big he is for so long.. trying to steal glimpses of him through his pants when he walks, or catch him with the covers down while he's sleeping.

I decide to pull the covers slightly further down and my mouth gapes open at the sight. He's hard.. so hard that I can see the outline of him through his boxers as it threatens to poke through his underwear. My mouth waters at his size and I know if he ever put it in me, it would definitely hurt like hell.

After I've stared at it long enough to feel like a total creep, my eyes travel back up his body and I almost yelp when I see his head is slightly turned and his eyes are watching me curiously, as if he's been waiting for me to make a move.

"I - uh.. The thunder.. I got scared." I explain.

"Nice try, kid. Go back to bed."

"Negan, please. Just let me sleep here. Nothing weird, I just.. don't wanna be alone."

He sighs and that alone tells me he's going to let me. I hide my excitement as I turn over, facing away from him and snuggling into the covers. They smell like him.. musk and leather.. and the scent makes me practically feral. He's still on his back, but my ass is barely touching his side. It's hardly anything, and it's not like we haven't cuddled before, but the thought of my ass so close to him sets my insides on fire.

Another lightning strike hits outside his window this time and I flinch a little, not purposely meaning for my ass to press into him even more. He doesn't react and I wonder if he's already asleep.

"Negan...?" I say softly.

"Hm?"

"Will you hold me?"

"Y/n, you are seriously pushing it. Go to sleep."

a few minutes go by before another boom echoes in the distance and I jump a little again.

He sighs heavily and turns over, draping his arm over my waist and pressing his body firmly against mine. His dick is pressed against my ass, but it's not as hard anymore... and that hurts a little.

"Go to fucking sleep."

I hold his hand tightly against my lower stomach and embrace this moment with him. I want him so bad that I can literally feel my vagina throbbing. If it could speak, it would be meowing like a cat in heat right now. I close my eyes and imagine him sliding in me from behind. I get a little too lost in the thought and accidentally arch a little, grinding my ass further into him. I feel him grow to full length against me and the feeling is enough for me to squeeze my legs together, desperate for some pressure down there.

"Where the fuck are your shorts?" He says in a deep and sleepy voice.

I giggle as he breathes heavily into my neck before whispering again.

"What the hell am I gonna do with you, baby?"

"Touch me?"

"I'm already touching you, y/n. My fucking dick is basically between your ass cheeks."

"Not yet.. my panties are in the way." I slip my panties off my legs smoothly and discard them on the floor.

"Y/n." He warns but before he can tell me no, I'm bare from the waist down and pressing my ass back against him.

"Trying to give this old man a heart attack?" He chuckles deeply.

"I can try harder than that if you want me to." I tease.

"Fuck, baby. Go to sleep before I do something we'll both regret."

"Like what?"

"...Like pound that pussy so fucking good you'll never think about another man's cock but mine."

"If you love me, wouldn't you want to be the one to give that to me for the first time? Wouldn't you rather it be you than some asshole who doesn't care about me."

He doesn't answer, so I keep pressing him. I place my hand back on top of his resting against my stomach and slowly slide it lower towards my aching center.

"Don't start something you can't finish, darlin'."

"Oh, I'm very determined to finish." I spread my legs apart slightly to guide his hand over my wet center. His middle finger easily slides between my slippery folds and we both moan at the feeling.

"Goddamn. Fucking dripping for daddy. He growls in my ear before leaning up a little and pressing his lips to my neck from behind. I move my hand from his, letting him take control - finally.

His finger moves back and forth between my wet slit, gliding over my clit every few seconds and making me moan each time. His other hand slips under me and up to my neck, gently squeezing my throat.

"This what you wanted, baby?" He breathes in my ear and chills spread over every inch of my skin.

I nod quickly as I feel my orgasm build from just his light touch. He hasn't even put a finger in me and I'm already on the verge of tears.

As soon as his finger rubs tiny circles over my clit, I lose it.. moaning out for him.

"Thaaat's it, cum for daddy, babygirl."

"Negan!" I scream out as his hand goes from my neck to my mouth, muffling the sound.

"Don't need the dead hearing us, doll."

He kisses my neck once I've soaked his fingers and then brings them to his mouth.

"Mmm, fuck, this pussy tastes so good I might have to eat it everyday."

I turn around in his arms to face him. My hand goes up to hold his face and my fingers play with his gray hair. He kisses my forehead before meeting my gaze.

"This is so wrong, baby." He strokes my cheek gently.

"Can't be wrong if it feels this good."

He tilts my chin up to press his lips against mine. It's so much better than I ever imagined. He knows exactly what he's doing, and even though I've never kissed anyone, he takes the lead and I'm thankful for it. I moan into his mouth when he deepens the kiss, his hand gripping the back of my neck now. The feeling of is tongue in my mouth makes me clench my legs again, and I think he notices because his hand on my neck travels lower until it reaches the back of my thigh. He lifts my leg over his and his hand slides to my ass, squeezing lightly before his long fingers tease my entrance from behind.

His dick is pressed into me painfully and I can't wait any longer. I need to touch him. Feel him inside me.

I reach my hand inside his boxers and pull out his big, hard cock. I try looking at it under the covers between us.

"You've never seen a dick before, doll?"

I shake my head no and admire him. It's so perfect.

He closes his eyes as I stroke it. "Fuck. So innocent, baby."

He kisses my neck while I pull on him even more. "You sure you want this, baby?"

I nod. "Yes, please. I've been wanting this for so long, Negan."

He lines himself up at my opening, my leg still draped over his so that he's in between my legs.

"Once we do this, you're mine darlin'."

"I'm already yours."

That's all he needs to hear to finally push the tip past my opening. I've never had anything inside of me other than a finger, and the feeling of his thick head pushing through me and stretching my walls has my mouth falling open.

"Tell me to stop, baby."

"No, keep going. Please." I beg.

He slides deeper and deeper until he's buried inside me completely. He stays still, letting me adjust. and kisses me through the pain. A pain that feels so good. I kiss him back hard, scratching his back while grinding my waist pathetically against him repeatedly. I moan in his ear and give him the go ahead to start moving. He fucks me deep and slow at first, letting me get used to him.

"So fucking tight baby."

He growls in my ear and vibration of his deep voice sends chills through me again until my pussy flutters around him.

"Holy fuck, doll. Do that again."

I squeeze my cunt around him again and he lets out the hottest moan I've ever heard. Not that I've heard a man moan before, but I just know that his are the hottest.

"I won't last if you keep doing that, baby." He warns and the thought of him shooting his load inside me has my head spinning.

After a few more thrusts that have my eyes rolling to the back of my head, I feel myself reaching my orgasm again and hold him against me so I can grind against him and ride it out.

"Negan, Negan, oh my god.” I breathe out as I push myself so hard against him that my clit rubs against his pubic bone creating the friction I need to send me over the edge.

"Goddamn." He thrusts into me faster and harder. "Gonna make me fucking cum already, baby." He tries to pull out but you tighten your leg around him so he can't pull away.

"Cum in me, Negan. Please." I cry desperately. "I love you. I want all of you."

He kisses me hard before his hips come to a halt. He practically yells out when he shoots his load deep inside me. "Ah, fuck! Babyyy."

The sound of Negan cumming is even hotter than his moaning from earlier - I didn't think it could get any better but holy shit. We're both a tangled, sweaty mess while our hearts beat out of our chest.

We eventually fall asleep with our lips still touching and his softening dick still inside me.

I don't even worry about the possibility of what could happen in the future.. I know I'm safe with Negan.. Here in our little cabin. He gently strokes my hair as we drift back off to sleep.

BOOM. The thunder crashes outside again, but this time I don't even flinch.

"You're not scared of thunder, are you, doll?"

I smile against his chest. "...No."

The End.

Brb, going to take an ice bath.