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fangswbenefits · 9 months

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Confession

Summary: You come to Miguel when he least expects, and now there is no turning back.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x spider-woman!reader

Word count: 3.9k

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessive Miguel. Inexperienced/V*rgin reader. Oral s*x. Body worship. Dry h*mping. Br*eding k*nk.

Part 1 - Previous part

Miguel chose to give you space and time.

For two whole days, he had kept all interactions with you at a minimum.

Not because he wanted to, but because he had to.

It pained him that things between you two were now in this limbo. You were still your sweet self as expected, but Miguel had soured. Anyone within a three meter radius could spot it.

So when he walked into HQ with blood dripping from his face, no one dared approach him besides the occasional spider asking if he needed anything.

He dismissed all of them and headed to Lab 2 in search of a first-aid kit to deal with the bleeding bruises.

"Need help, boss?" a fellow spider offered.

Miguel shook his head, and kept going through the countless shelves until you came into his field of vision right in the corner of his eye.

His heart immediately skipped a beat as usual.

Holding a small bag in your hand, you rummaged through it and handed him two pieces of gauze.

"Thanks," he grumbled under his breath, as he pressed the soft fabric to his face.

"What happened?"

Miguel scoffed and turned his head away from you, not wanting to extend the conversation.

He heard you heave a sigh. "Okay, Mr. Grumpy. Can you please move away, then?"

This time, he shifted to glare at you in confusion.

You smiled warmly and pointed at the lab counter that was covered in drops of blood.

Oh.

He grabbed the bag from your hands and began pacing towards his station, but it seemed that you had no intention of parting ways with him just yet.

And that hurt more than any of his wounds.

Having you around was intoxicating enough, but having to go days without barely seeing or interacting with you, had taken a toll on him.

And the result had been sloppiness and being caught off guard by an anomaly.

Very amateur of him.

Very unlike him.

And all because he had filled his mind with you, since he couldn't physically have you.

But you insisted on being present in his life even when you didn't have to.

Miguel walked through the door and let it slide shut, knowing fully well that wouldn't deter you from stepping inside as well.

"Let me take a look. Please."

He threw you a side-glance, and stopped to glare at his own reflection on the nearby glass wall instead, and determined that the damage could have been much worse.

"Miguel O'Hara, stop being stubborn and let me take a look."

Your kind voice was chewing at his nerves, and he had to take a deep breath to stop himself from snapping.

He'd rather not have you at all than having your pity.

But then again, there was still that part of him that craved your attention.

And he gave in, like the fool he was.

"Fine."

You were standing by his desk, and he saw the triumph glimmer in your face. "Take a seat."

He swallowed and did what you asked, allowing your hands to cup his face. Your touch had his stomach flip, and he couldn't bring himself from breaking eye contact with you, even when you moved your finger under his chin, tilting his head back slightly.

"Right," you said in a low voice, before removing the bloodied gauze. "It's very superficial. I think I can just use liquid stitches."

He figured as much, but his focus wasn't on his bodily bruises anymore, but on the delicate touch of your hands, the intensity of your roaming eyes, and, above all else, your warmth.

"Hold the bag a bit higher."

Miguel offered it to you, and you smiled in return.

That sweet smile of yours that had him tightly wrapped around your finger for so long.

His sweet girl…

Your touch left his skin briefly as you gathered the needed material to fix him. Miguel allowed his eyes to flutter shut, occasionally hissing from the sting of the antiseptic as you cleaned his wounds. His mind went blank for a few seconds, and he only focused on enjoying how you took care of him.

Miguel had forgotten what it felt like to be taken care of. He had spent so much time looking after others, that having the roles switched felt so foreign, yet so welcome.

"I didn't think you could ever get injured," you said with a faint chuckle, breaking the comfortable silence.

Miguel knew you were trying to lighten the mood, but he remained silent.

You worked on him with impressive expertise, patching him up.

Once you were done, you lightly patted the edges of the adhesive that covered his wounds and stepped away.

Pride settled on your face, and you moved to sit on the chair across his. "Looking good as new."

"Thank you."

He wished he was strong enough to ask you to leave, but he had missed these little moments. He had accepted you needed time and space, but it still hurt to think that he could have been there for you, and that you had pushed him away instead.

You drummed your fingers on the table for a while before taking a deep breath. "Miguel… we should talk."

"What about?"

"Us."

Miguel slowly straightened in his seat.

You had his full attention now.

"I don't want things between us to feel awkward," you began, eyes fixed on his. "I don't want us to grow apart…"

He hadn't seen this coming. He assumed it would take longer than this for you to come to him again.

He wasn't often wrong about many things, but he had been wrong about this.

Cocking an eyebrow at you, he leaned back. "Then what do you want?"

Your gaze faltered briefly. "I thought it'd be easier being with you intimately. It felt less… suffocating. It made it easier for me to bury my feelings." You paused and swallowed. "I know people do this casually, and I assumed you felt that way, too…"

He remained silent for a while, slowly digesting the information you had just dropped on him.

It felt like a confession of sorts, but that last part left a sour taste in his mouth.

"You assumed wrongly," he finally spoke, face twisting into a light scowl. "Is this why you pushed me away the other day? Because you think I only look at you that way?"

Your eyes shot up and you shook your head. "I didn't push you away… I… never meant for that, anyway. I just needed time to think," you said in a whisper. "Like I said, I know some people do this casually… and I would be fine with you just wanting that. I still am," you corrected yourself.

A part of Miguel felt incredulous at this turn of events. Were you confessing you had deeper feelings for him? Or was it all surface-level?

But another part of him wasn't allowing him to fully savour the first possibility. He wanted you. He needed you. But the conclusion you had drawn of him stirred annoyance inside him.

"What do you want from me?" He snapped a bit too harshly.

Your mouth parted, but no sound came out.

"Sex? I can give you that," he said dryly. "But that is not all I want. Is that all you want?"

You looked restless. "I… I think I want more."

"You think? I don't want anything from you that you won't give willingly," he said in a softer tone this time. "This doesn't have to be more than it is. If all you want is intimacy, I can help you out. But I wish for more, and I want you aware of that."

You remained still for a while as if weighing your options.

Not long after, you nodded.

There was absolutely no doubt inside him. He was sure of how he felt about you, and he was too desperate to have anything he could take. Even casual sexual intimacy if that was what it took to soothe his frustration.

But he couldn't hide his true intentions any longer, and had to make things crystal clear for you.

"What about Tom?"

Your eyes widened. "Tom?"

"Yes. How do you feel about him?"

He needed reassurance.

"We'll work on rebuilding our friendship… but that's it."

That was good enough. Realistically, Miguel didn't expect you to sever your bond to your childhood friend. He didn't even want you to, so long as you weren't getting your feelings hurt.

You then rose to your feet and walked to him with unsure steps. Once you were in front of him, Miguel instinctively parted his legs, allowing your to close the distance between you two.

You glanced around you, and Miguel knew what you were silently assessing.

With a quick tap of a finger on his watch, rendering the glass windows opaque.

The newfound privacy made you visibly relax, and you brought your hands to either side of his head, before raking gentle fingers through his hair.

Miguel had to bite back a moan, and tilted his head back, angling it perfectly with yours.

His heart drummed rapidly inside him as you lowered your face to press the softest kiss to his forehead, and he brought his arms to envelop you into a tight embrace, his chin resting in between your breasts.

There was comfort in this type of silence.

Actions did speak louder than words, after all.

The way you began trailing kisses down his face, carefully avoiding his wounds, had him melting into your touch.

You hesitated upon reaching his lips, hovering over them with your own.

He could feel your breath fanning them rhythmically, and he felt the impending erection stirring down below.

And then you kissed him.

It was shy and controlled at first, but he quickly parted his lips, deepening the kiss. You moaned into him first, gently tugging at strands of his hair. Miguel's groan tore through his throat and he dropped his hands to your waist, gripping them tightly and bringing you closer to his strained erection.

You jolted once you felt it nudging your legs, breaking the kiss momentarily.

"Hard already?"

The genuine tease in your voice awoke in him the urge to breed you. It was primal and intense, and he knew he should keep that to himself for now. However, he would need to know if you were on birth control eventually.

"You make it easy," he chose to say, placing one hand to the back of your neck, pulling you into yet another kiss.

He would devour you if you allowed him to.

His tongue slipped past his lips and met yours halfway. You tugged at his hair again and he bucked his hips against you.

He was so painfully hard and already dripping precum.

Just for you.

His sweet girl.

You let him take control and only parted from him once his other hand began to move to your front, fingers dipping between your legs.

Your body language told him to immediately stop, and he did.

"I'm sorry."

You shook your head. "I'm… still getting used to this…" your voice was but a whisper. "Can I… come over to your place later today?"

His cock was throbbing impatiently, craving release from his tight digital suit, but he nodded.

He wanted you to feel comfortable and safe around him, so he placed your needs above his.

He silently vowed to always do this.

You brought your lips to his unarmed cheek and pressed a fleeting peck to it.

"See you later, Mr. Grumpy," you said with a smile before exiting through the sliding door.

Miguel looked down at the visible outline of his cock and contemplated easing some of the tension, but he decided against it.

He would gladly build up all the frustration within him and only you would be able to relieve him from it.

You came to him late at night, before the clock struck midnight.

For the second time that day, you had come to him.

Your steps echoed through the hall and you came into sight, immediately earning his undivided attention.

"Hey, you."

Miguel's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Hey."

You were wearing a flowery dress that trapped his gaze. It fit you perfectly, but he couldn't wait to get it off you.

Laughing nervously, you took determined steps to where he sat on his couch until you were close enough.

Miguel met your eyes and watched carefully as you lowered yourself to straddle his waist. Instinctively, his hands slipped under your dress to grip your hips into him.

Then he noticed you weren't wearing anything underneath.

You giggled, biting your lip teasingly. "Is this too much?"

"It's not even enough."

He caressed your skin with his thumbs, as he positioned you right on top of his hardening cock, that was now stirring slowly inside his sweatpants.

You gasped softly as your folds parted to accommodate the underside of his cock, increasing the pressure on your clit.

Miguel considered immediately removed the only layer of clothing that was in the way, but he wanted to feel you soak the fabric.

"I really, really like you," you said through half-hooded eyes, caressing the edges of the bandage covering the wound on his cheek.

Then, you took his lips in yours.

This time, you were the one taking the lead and he let you set the pace. He tasted the impatience and hunger in you, and helped you grind against him. You were a fast learner. You already knew how to sway your hips sensually against his cock, drawing a low groan from him.

Miguel felt his cock fully harden just from feeling your body undulating under the palms of his hands.

You were going to kill him one day. He was sure of this.

Your hands moved from his shoulder to your chest, undoing the cute buttons that held the dress together.

He broke the kiss so he could marvel at your breasts coming into view, as you allowed the fabric to slide down your shoulders and arms.

The nipple piercings glistened, and he felt his cock twitch from the sight of the spider pendant dangling from each of them.

He wanted to make you custom ones. Maybe with his own symbol. Or his initials. He wanted to mark you as his, and what better way than this?

"Please touch me," you begged, arching your back lightly.

Sweet.

Hungry.

His.

He brought both hands to your chest and grazed your nipples with the pads of both thumbs, hardening them.

You moaned softly, and kept riding his clothed cock.

"Can I tug gently?"

"Please…"

Miguel's hips jerked to meet yours, and he felt your wetness finally seeping through his pants.

He twirled your nipples at first in between his fingers, before gripping the metal piercing, tugging ever so slightly in awe.

You gasped loudly this time, stilling yourself as he admired the jewelry.

"I'll make you custom ones," he promised, as he positioned himself to press a kiss to one nipple. "With my symbol."

You whimpered with a nod. "Yes…"

You'd look so pretty being marked by him.

He wrapped his lips around the nipple, capturing and twirling the pendant with his tongue.

Too bad you hadn't been bred yet. He would have loved to taste your milk as you carried his child.

You pressed down on him, and the motion of your pussy dragging along his cock was enough to draw the first beads of precum.

He couldn't care less that he was about to get soaked in it, as he knew his body was only trying to prepare itself to be inside yours.

"Slowly… Miguel…" you pleaded in between moans, burying your hands in his hair. "Miguel…"

He could easily get addicted to you mumbling his name like that, but he did release the nipple, admiring how perky it looked.

Before he could have it in his mouth for a second round, you slipped off of him, settling on the floor and in between his legs.

He quickly spotted the damp spot along the outline of his cock from you grinding viciously on him.

"What is it?" he asked, unsure of what to do next.

A faint pout settled on your lips. "Can I… can you show me how to… do it?"

His eyes widened at the realisation of what you meant when your gaze landed on his crotch.

"Are you sure?"

You merely nodded, hands grasping at his waistband, gently pulling it down until his cock sprang free.

Immediately, you straightened yourself and shifted closer. He could feel your curious gaze on him, as strings of precum dripped from the tip.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, wondering how long it would take for him to cum from this.

"Open your mouth," he breathed, and you immediately complied. "Just give it a few licks first."

You nodded and darted out your tongue to press it flat along the underside of his cock.

He immediately flinched, but still gripping it at the base to to push it towards you.

You pulled back with a pout. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing. It feels really good…"

A sweet smile tugged at your lips. "What now?"

He inhaled sharply, trying to keep himself from going over the edge too soon.

"Lick the tip…"

This time, you wrapped your fingers around him, and positioned yourself until your tongue grazed along the tip, collecting the thick droplets of precum.

He had to grip the cushions on his couch to steady himself, not wanting to accidentally shove his cock into your mouth.

You kept your eyes on him, working your tongue around the sensitive tip until he saw the strings of precum mixed with your saliva begin to dribble from the corners of your mouth.

He immediately pressed his eyes shut.

The visual stimulation would only make him reach his peak faster, and he wanted you to be able to take his cock in your mouth before he exploded.

You kept giving him quick licks, further edging him.

"You need to stop…" he groaned, his hips lifting from the couch. "Please…"

Once you did, he opened his eyes again only to be met by the thick and long strings of precum of either side of your chin to drip down to your breasts.

"Too much?" you asked shyly, swiping your tongue along your bottom lip.

Fuck.

You looked so fucking delicious.

But he needed more.

"Do you think you can fit it in your mouth now?"

You quickly nodded. "I think so."

Miguel knew he was not going to last long. "Go slowly…"

You didn't need to be told twice, and craned your neck before lowering yourself and sliding the tip past your lips.

His hips instantly bucked, further sliding in and nearly gagging you.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, lovingly caressing your cheek.

You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it was hard to do with his thick cock stuffing your mouth.

"Suck gently…" he said with a groan that quickly turned into a hiss once you began to suckle softly. "Just like that…"

You were so good for him…

He saw your eyes watering slightly as you took him even deeper. "Don't be greedy… you're doing just fine, sweet girl."

By this point, more beads of precum and saliva began to spill from the corners of your mouth, streaming down your face until they connected under your chin into a single strand that dangled further and further down.

Miguel felt his balls tighten lightly as a warning sign.

He was actually impressed with how long it was taking for him to reach an orgasm.

And that was when he decided he didn't want to cum just yet.

Slowly, he gripped your chin and slid off your mouth, earning a muffled protest from you until he was fully out, a string of precum bridging your lower lip to his tip.

"Miguel… why?"

You were pouting again and he nearly lost it.

"Come here," he asked, trying not to focus too much on how his body was throbbing for release.

You wiped the wetness from your face with the back of your hand, but did as you were told, standing up.

"Do you trust me?"

You nodded right away.

"I want you to lay on your back," he instructed with a sultry voice. "Then I want your legs over my shoulders."

You seemed to hesitate at first, but moved to sit on his thighs, as Miguel grabbed your hips to help you slide into his desired position. Your legs parted to rest on his shoulders and he effortless lifted your hips.

"Oh…" you drawled out as your dress slid up your thighs, until you were fully exposed to him.

Miguel almost groaned at the sight of your swollen clit peeking through your soaked folds.

"Tell me if it gets too much."

"Why would I-" your words did in your mouth the moment he dragged his tongue across your folds, tasting you for the first time.

He felt your hips jerk lightly under his touch, but he had decided to bring you over the edge with just his mouth.

So, naturally, Miguel began to eat you out.

His thirst for you was satiated with each flick of his tongue across your throbbing clit, yanking the most delicious gasps and whimpers from you.

He first let his tongue slide past your opening, as his nose pressed against your clit.

You choked on a sob as he went deeper. "Oh…oh my…"

Your wetness quickly began to coat his his lips and chin, as he continued to feast on your tast.

"Miguel… I… please…"

His cock twitched at the sound of your voice, and he slipped out of you only to wrap his lips around your clit.

Your hips bucked violently into him, and he had to still you with both hands, so he could properly suckle on it.

More wetness spilled from you, fueling Miguel's ego, as it was the best indicator that your body was yearning for him to breed you. He felt it pool in his tongue and eagerly swallowed as much as he could, feeling intoxicated with your taste.

He sucked a bit more fiercely and could tell you were close. So, so close.

Come for me, cariño…

You were mumbling his name with other incoherent words as you reached your peak.

As soon as he felt you tip over the edge, he let go of your clit and plunged his tongue inside, so he could feel your contracting rhythmically around him.

Your whimpers turned into loud grunts as your orgasm spread throughout your body like wildfire. Your legs began to shake and he wrapped his fingers around his own cock, pumping it in unison with each contraction.

His senses were completely flooded and it didn't take long for his balls to tighten and the first spurts of cum to gush from the tip.

As you descended from your bliss, Miguel entered his, leaning back against the backrest and groaning loudly as he rolled his own hips, desperately fucking his hand.

His fangs were fully on display as your wetness dripped from them while also running down his chin and neck.

By the time he was able to come to his senses again, you had slipped from his grasp, kneeling on the floor with your head pressed to his thigh, breathing erratically.

The two of you remained silent, as both struggled to even out your breaths.

His cum had landed on his shirt, seeping through the fabric and dribbling down his toned abdomen.

"Do you want to spend the night…" Miguel finally managed to find his words again, caressing your cheek approvingly.

You were panting heavily and could only nod.

Part 8

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader

7K notes · View notes

keraxxx · 4 months

Text

Hate or Jealousy? -Part 2

Pairing: Oliver Quick x Fem!reader

Summary: Oliver is starting to grow on you, physically and mentally. You can’t stop thinking about him and he knows.

Warnings: cursing, smoking, mentions of ed, clit rubbing, praising (kink), possible manipulation/coercion, spitting, not proof read

A/N: Hi guys! Again, part two is based off Oliver and Venetia a bit(sorry i couldn’t resist). Also I think i have one more request to write so i’ll get to that and post it tomorrow. I don’t know when part 3 when be out but i’m thinking around saturday/sunday, latest monday. Enjoy!

word count: 1.9k comment to be added to taglist!

Requests are open

Your heart sunk into your stomach as you looked at the cracked open door. You bite your lip nervously and quickly get up from the bath, water dripping down your exposed body. You grab your robe that was placed on the counter and look outside the room.. it was empty. Not a sign of anyone even in your room. Maybe you didn't shut the door and you were just tired and needed to rest. You cursed yourself out for overthinking and quickly drained the water from the tub before getting ready for bed, wearing your black silk nightgown. Tiredness slowly takes over and you eventually fall asleep, letting all the thoughts of Oliver drift from your mind.

Morning came and the sun is creeping through your blinds, almost blinding you as you open your eyes and adjust to the sight. You sigh as you slip your feet into your pink slipper that were just at the side of your bed. You needed to mentally prepare yourself for today, just incase someone saw you in such a vulnerable state last night. You open your blind and groan as the sun smiles at you. It was too early for this. You find your way to the dining area, your relatives already sitting down and enjoying their breakfast, Oliver no where to be found. You look at the assortment of food and your face grows sour. You eventually sit down and Duncan brings over a glass and pours water into it. You thank him with a slight smile before taking a sip, the coldness of the water almost burning your throat on the way down.

"You're not going to eat? You look up at your aunt with a smile. "No thanks. My stomach is in knots this morning." You hum and Venetia looks at you with a small knowing smirk. You ignore her uncomfortable gaze and look down at your fingers, picking at the skin around your nail bed. You hear footsteps coming near you and you look up to see Oliver. "Morning Ollie." Felix says as he practically shoves his face full of eggs. "Good morning." He smiles as he faces everyone, his eyes falling on you with a hidden smirk. Your face contorts with disgust.

"Sleep well, Ollie?" Elspeth asks as she she sits up straight with a smile. "Yes.. yes I did. I'd assume you slept well too. You look beautiful this morning." He smiles sweetly at her and she looks almost stunned for a minute. She mumbles thanks and smiles. You look at her and snicker quietly to yourself at her reaction to (in her words) "pretty boy" calling her beautiful. You look at Felix and he laughs.

"Stop being so flustered. It was only a compliment." Farleigh chortles as he looks into his almost empty cup of juice. You giggle slightly as your aunt scoffs sarcastically. "Oh stop." She says softly as she drinks her drink. Your uncle keeps to himself and so does Venetia, her eyes on Oliver as Duncan brings him his plate of eggs. Oliver picks at his eggs before taking a small bite. Everyone joins in a small conversation, enjoying their breakfast.

Its the afternoon and you, Farleigh, Venetia, and Felix are all in the fields, your clothes laid out in the grassy area. You lay on your stomach, reading a book. "Ollie!" Felix says joyfully, causing you to look up from your book. You hum to yourself as he comes in his swimwear. "No clothes in the field, Ollie." You say in a teasing tone and he looks at your body, your smooth legs lifted in the air behind you as you kick your feet. You smirk at him, your sunglasses blocking your eyes as you watched him strip himself from his trunks. Everyone's jaw dropped besides Venetia's. She smirks at the sight. "Well damn Ollie. That was unexpected." She giggles to herself as Ollie walks over. He lays down on his back near Felix and you avert your attention from him to Venetia.

"Did you see that?" You smirk and she hits your arm. "The whole world saw it. Not bad for someone like him." She bites the inside of her lip slightly, preventing herself from saying more. You smile at her and shake your head, going back to your book. You look at Oliver, his eyes locked onto Felix. He's observing Felix/s features as if he was an admirer of him. Farleigh locks eyes with you and shakes his head in reference to you looking at Oliver. You embarrassedly fiddle with the pages of your book, the paper smooth against your rough finger tips.

After a long afternoon, the family gathers yet again to eat dinner, everyone in their formal, yet usual, attire. This time, you're wearing a silky, baby blue dress with a crisscross back. You take a sip of the wine in your cup, swishing the liquid in your mouth before gulping it down. You look at your dinner plate, getting sick at the thought of taking a bite, it was repulsive just thinking of it. You just weren't in the mood to eat and Oliver noticed. "Not hungry?" He asks in a soft tone, just loud enough for you to hear. He looks at you with a concerned look. You look up at him and attempt to smile politely. "Mm no. Not at the moment." You lied and he furrowed his brows. "Okay.." He looks away from you and cuts a piece of his steak, plopping it between his lips and onto his tongue. You look away and clear your throat as you mess with the fabric of your dress, just as every other dinner.

You find yourself outside again after dinner, still in your dress. You're sitting on the same bench you were the other night you confronted Oliver for hiding from everyone. You cross your arms, a cigarette lit in your mouth. You're looking over your shoulder slightly, zoning out and unaware of your surroundings, being tipsy having to do with that. "Sleep walking again?" You turn your head and blink slowly as you look up to see Oliver, still in the same tuxedo he was wearing at dinner. “Hi Ollie..” You say softly slurring your words. He smirks at you and takes the cigarette from your lips, throwing it to the ground and stepping on it to put it out. “Rude.” You giggle as you look at the cigarette on the ground. He looks at you and cocks his head to the side. "You're so beautiful.." He whispers as he circles around you, stopping behind you. He leans down and gets close to your ear, his breath tickling you as he speaks, "You're just like Venetia. Now.. tomorrow night, you're going to eat breakfast and dinner." Your breath quickens at his words. "Do you understand?" You slowly nod your head, the affect of the alcohol growing stronger, putting you in a trance.

"Good girl.." Oliver chuckles in your ear before circling back in front of you, getting on his knees. You gasp as his hand rubs up and down your knee. "I don't want to lie to you..” He says softly as he stares at your hands in your lap. "I heard you last night.." He looks up at you, his blue eyes boring into yours. "Y-You did?" He nods with a smirk. "I bet you're begging to be touched by me.." He slowly lifts his hands under your dress, your jaw dropping open as you gasp. “Do you want me to?” He whispers as he leans closer to your face. You slowly nod and he smirks, his hand finding its way to your underwear. “Ollie we shouldn’t..” You whisper before you moan softly at his fingers teasing your clothed clit. “Oh but we should.. I know you want to..”

You lean your head back slightly and Oliver rests his free hand on your hip, pulling you in slightly. At this point, you’re practically soaking through your panties, probably soaking the stone bench beneath you. He moves his hand from under your dress and spits on his fingers as he looks at you with a smirk. You whimper softly as you feel his hand reach in your underwear. “Shhh.” He says as he hushes you, his mouth slightly agape in awe. “Oh darling,.” He hums before teasing your swollen and throbbing clit. “You’re so wet..” He chuckles. “I didn’t even have to spit…” He trails off as he focuses on your expression. Your eyes are close to shutting, your jaw open, a few groans filling the air. He takes his hand off your hip and teases your bottom lip with his fingers. You seductively stick out your tongue and tease his finger tips, the wetness of your mouth soaking them. He chuckles as he watches you. “Such a pretty girl..” His hand moves against your clit faster, causing you to choke out a whine as you now suck on his fingers.

“Ollie..” You say, slobbering all over his hand. You’re practically jumping against his hand and he’s watching you as if you’re a form of free entertainment. Oliver laughs softly. “Good girl..” He praises as he moves his fingers deeper into your mouth. “Just perfect.” He mumbles to himself. He teases your throbbing clit, your thighs shaking and closing around his hand as you get closer to your high. You see Oliver drag his teeth against his bottom lip, his eyes staying on yours. He removes his fingers from your mouth and places his lips on yours, his tongue teasing the inside of your mouth. You moan into his mouth, your hands tangled in his hair as you tug, causing a groan to erupt from Oliver. You tug his head back, moaning out loud as you open your legs, shaking at the euphoric feeling of his digits. “That’s it.. come for me.” He whispers and that sends you over the edge. You gasp while you release his hair from your grip and rest your hand on the side of his neck. You finish and he removes his hand from your panties with a smirk.

“What the fuck..” You whisper as you look at him get up. He wipes his hand on the side of his pants and he caress your cheek as he looks down at you. “Goodnight.” He says softly before walking off into the distance and back into the manor. Your jaw drops and you look out into the distance. “Oh what the fuck.” You bite your lip nervously before getting up, your panties soaked with your juices. You groan as you awkwardly walk back inside as well.

Next morning, the realization of what you had done kicks in. You feel a pool of guilt in your stomach as you lay in bed, unable to get up. You force yourself out of bed and walk to the dining table. You find everyone, again, eating their breakfast. You look at Oliver and he smiles at you. “Sleep well?” You nod slowly as you look at the assortments of food. You sit down and Duncan is about to pour you a cup of juice but you quickly grab his wrists. “Eggs.. please.” Everyone looks at you in awe. “Scrambled.” You smile at him and he nods, also a bit taken aback by your request. You look at your relatives.

“What? I’m feeling better this morning.”

Taglist: @l-ange-maudit @trashdemon04 @hahahafucku @powellssaturn

#x reader #fem reader #imagine #saltburn imagine #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #oliver quick #oliver quick smut #felix catton smut #saltburn movie #saltburn smut #smut #barry keoghan smut #barry keoghan

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justporo · 7 months

Text

Because I don't have enough ideas yet, I challenged my bf to give me an out of pocket writing prompt (I was way too deep in my head today so far, so I wanted a mood change). So here is what he came up with:

Scratch ate some piece of jewellery and now Tav and Astarion have to find a fantasy vet (Halsin, it's gonna be Halsin)

So here goes nothing:

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Wordcount: 2k

Saving the Dog in Distress

The troupe had been sitting together by the campfire enjoying the stew Gale had cooked for tonight while the wizard had kept complaining that the artifact you had handed him for his more specific hunger had disappeared without a trace. “Maybe you’re just trying to hoard up all the artifacts behind your back and this is your way to make Tav give you even more”, Astarion had quipped. “Or – even more likely – you simply forgot you already sucked up all the magic because you do too many things at a time”, Karlach had offered as an alternative. Gale had looked angrily at the both of them while you had simply shrugged and promised to try and get him something else tomorrow.

Afterwards the party had disbanded and everyone had been going about their own stuff.

Since Astarion’s confession about his feelings for you, it had become a custom for you and the vampire to snuggle up in his tent come nighttime and spend the night together with trivialities before you laid down for rest together. You usually talked a lot, used the time to get to know each other better, fulfilled some chores (Astarion had - albeit reluctantly - become the camp’s seamster and you the group’s navigator and cartographer) or you just read something together.

Tonight, Scratch had joined you when you had sauntered over to the vampire’s tent to settle down with Astarion for the night. That had significantly soured the pale elf’s mood from his usual grin when he had seen the two of you sauntering over. But you deeply adored the sweet stray which the vampire knew and so Astarion had accepted his fate that the dog would join your cuddle session tonight.

And so, the three of you laid all snuggled up: Astarion on his back, head on a pillow, one arm was holding you and caressing your back as you were snuggled up to his side and head on his chest. His other hand was holding a book in which he tried to read but he was frequently getting distracted by how Scratch was laying on his other side and kept squirming around when you kept petting him.

The dog was now laying across the vampire’s chest and stomach so he could lick your face while you tried to stop him from doing that. When Scratch jumped up excitedly and forcefully landed with his front paws on Astarion’s solar plexus, the vampire “hmpf”ed when all air was driven out of his lungs.

“Alright, the two of you will have to behave now or the vampire is going to put a leash on you – the both of you”, Astarion hissed although you could hear a little bit of a chuckle in his threat. “Don’t promise what you can’t fulfill”, you teased him back and smirked at him naughtily. The vampire looked at you in annoyance while you just chuckled.

You lifted your upper body up so you could lean over him and give him a short but sweet kiss. He immediately grabbed the back of your head softly and deepened the kiss. But when you moved in closer a sudden yelp stopped you. Still leaning over Astarion you turned your head to Scratch who was suddenly sitting in the far corner of the tent, ears drooping, tail basically between his legs and heaving as if he was about to throw up.

The vampire immediately pushed up from his laying position: “Oh no no no, the dog is not going to barf inside my tent! Take him outside!” You crawled over to the white dog who was still desperately heaving and had started howling miserably.

“What is it, Scratch?”, you softly whispered to the stray and reached out to him but the dog winced and turned away even further. “Please, love, take him outside”, Astarion pleaded with you after he had changed into a sitting position. “I can’t if he doesn’t want me to. I think he’s in pain”, you replied and reached out to the dog again.

This time he let you touch him, but he still whimpered as you touched him softly. “Well, don’t you have a spell for this type of situation”, the vampire suggested. You threw him a confused look then remembered that he was right of course. You mumbled the incantation to be able to speak with animals then softly addressed the yelping pup: “What’s wrong, Scratch? Are you hurting?”

“Tummy hurts”, he blurted out. “Can’t get it out.” He was dry heaving again and a shudder moved through his whole body. Astarion came up next to where you knelt. He did not repeat his request to you but instead now actually looked kind of worried himself.

“What can’t you get out? Scratch, did you eat something you weren’t supposed to?”, you carefully asked the dog again who was panting hard. “Oh shit”, you heard Astarion let out under his breath next to you. Oh no, you both probably had had a similar thought.

“Shiny thing the wizard had”, Scratch spat out in between full body shivers. “Thought it was a treat, but it was really tough and not tasty at all”, he continued to explain.

“Oh by the Nine Hells, the dog ate the fucking magical artifact”, Astarion moaned and leaned back on his feet from his kneeling position and burrowed his face in his hands while lifting his face up to the sky. Scratch started to whimper guiltily at the vampire’s accusation. “I’m sorry, friend”, he sobbed and kept shivering, his ears drooping even more now.

When you tried to reach for him to check his stomach but he immediately withdrew and let out a howl of pain. “We need to get him to Halsin, he probably has an idea how to help him”, you said more to Astarion than to the dog. The vampire’s brows had furrowed deeply – obviously he cared more about the dog then he let on. “Should I wake the druid and get him over here?”, he asked but you shook your head. “No, we need to get Scratch out of the tent first, I guess. No way your tent will stay in one piece if you let the seven feet druid in here to deal with a majorly hurting dog”, you gave back and looked at the vampire begging.

Astarion pressed his mouth into a line – no way to argue with that logic. “Please help me, with him, Astarion. You’re stronger than me, can you carry him? I’ll go ahead and wake Halsin up!”, you explained your plan and were already scurrying out of the tent while the vampire was too stunned to reply quickly enough.

Scratch was now silently whimpering and made big sad puppy eyes at the vampire. Astarion stared at him a moment longer before he sighed in defeat. “Please don’t bite me. I’d rather not be on the receiving end”, he murmured and crawled closer to the dog whose tail started to wag weakly despite the pain he was in.

Carefully, Astarion tried to scoop up the large dog into his arms. The dog yowled but obviously heeded the words of warning by the vampire, understanding that he was about to receive help, and tried to hold still. Once the stray was in the elf’s arms Astarion awkwardly crawled out of his tent.

You had run over to where Halsin had been meditating and had quickly woken him up and started to explain what had seemingly happened to the druid who was still only half in the waking world. Once he had caught onto your meaning he had quickly gotten up and started to rummage through his stuff while mumbling about what might be the best to do in this kind of situation.

While the druid was busy you stood around anxiously before you turned around to see Astarion approaching.

For a second or two your heart stopped and your jaw dropped. There he was carrying the poor animal in his arms over to you, his hair still perfect, one curl falling into his face playfully, the muscles on his naked forearms tensed while carrying the large dog. For a second there Astarion almost looked like the perfect fairytale prince. Despite the situation you positively swooned.

You kept staring as the vampire came over and carefully set down the patient. Halsin thanked Astarion by grabbing his elbow for a second and smiling warmly at him. Then the druid got to work. With a calm voice he talked to the dog who immediately seemed much more relaxed in the druid’s presence.

Astarion came over to you: “Judging by the look you gave me I should save more animals, shouldn’t I? You were almost barking yourself.” At first you wanted to humour him but then you decided to only roll your eyes at him while he kept smirking. “Way to ruin every good thing you’ve ever done, Astarion.”

You kept watching how Halsin tended to Scratch. He was mumbling some incantation and shortly after the dog heaved again and again until something sparkly came out of him. And it was – the amulet that had been missing and was actually meant for Gale! The dog heaved one final time then shook himself and sank down on the floor again, his tail was lazily wagging again though.

Halsin happily grabbed the dog by his ears and gave him a big smooch. The druid seemed positively giddy that he had saved Scratch from his pain. He turned to you grinning: “Good thing the two of you acted so quickly. I guess our canine friend will have a stomach ache for some time longer but with some of my special porridge and a lot of water he should be his happy, tail-wagging self again very soon.” He beamed at you – it was obvious that helping creatures in need was one if not the greatest joy in life for the towering elven druid.thethe

You beamed back, it was hard not to feel warm and happy around the druid’s positive and kind aura. And you could swear even Astarion had let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you, Halsin”, you said and stepped in for a quick hug with the much taller druid.

“No need, this is my purpose. Now, I will take care of our friend and I guess the two of you will want to get back to resting”, Halsin answered and squeezed you. You stepped back and grabbed Astarion’s hand, ready to do as the druid had said.

“Wait – what am I supposed to do with this now?”, Halsin said, so you turned around once more. He was pointing at the magical amulet that formerly had been for Gale. It was full of dog spit and also probably some of Scratch’s previous meals. You couldn’t help but make a disgusted face.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it”, Astarion immediately answered with a mischievous sparkle in his red eyes. You were sure he was up to no good, but you let him do as he wished. But to your surprise he went back to his tent and only returned after a minute or two, carrying a small piece of paper. Then he grabbed the very wet amulet while gagging and making a face and snuck over to Gale’s tent.

He lifted the flap ever so silently and obviously placed the amulet back with his original owner. You watched Astarion close Gale’s tent again and he came back snickering. “What have you done, Astarion?”, you asked but still grabbed his arm to walk back to the vampire’s tent.

“Oh nothing, just returned the artifact to the supposed owner”, he replied with a wink and gave you a quick kiss.

The next morning the whole camp woke to the wizard screaming: “WHO OF YOU JESTERS DID THIS?”

He had woken up to find the amulet full of dog barf next to him on his pillow. Under it was a small note that said:

“Sowwy, I ates your treat, sir wizard. It was nat very tasty, you can has it bak now! XX Scratch”

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sunlightmurdock · 2 months

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The Odyssey | 1.3 | Bradley Bradshaw x reader

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

the pain of not knowing is weighing heavily on you as you arrive to your next destination. The people around you prove themselves.

warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, the italics at the very beginning indicate a scene involving brief attempt at sexual assault. The chapter deals heavily with themes of SA, and its aftermath. Pls take your own triggers into account while reading and feel free to message me for further info 🫶

…

“C‘mon, man, not so much as a test drive?”

Malcolm’s not in his right mind. Finals week pushed him to the brink and beyond. He’s been killing himself proving to his father that he’s worth being taken on at the firm. College is coming to an end and it’s almost time to be a man — as it grows closer, there seem to be more and more voices in his ear telling him what that entails.

Sex. Money. Power. Everything in the world is about sex, but sex is about power. Or whatever Oscar Wilde had said — he had only enrolled in that class for the credits and the added study time with you.

“Don’t talk about her like that.” He brushes the comment off with a wrinkle of his nose, bringing the bottle of whiskey to his mouth, tipping his head and pouring it back.

You’re not a possession — he’s in good enough mind to know that much. His buddy’s test drive metaphor leaves more than a sour taste in his mouth. It also leaves a sickness in his stomach and a venom twisting through his nerves.

The mention of this is already grinding at him, his blood growing hot and his feet growing restless, tapping against the aged wood below them.

“Because she’s such an angel that she won’t even let you lay a finger on her? — Yeah, she sounds like a real prize, Ashworth.” Another guy snorts. Malcolm’s head whips around to face him, his eyes narrowed.

“Has she even let you get to second base or are her tits off limits too?”

“Damn shame that she’s got that pretty mouth and you don’t have a clue what to do with it.”

“She scared that it’s going to hurt or something? — You packing a big one, Mac?”

He pushes himself swiftly up from that stiff leather armchair despite its creaks of complaint. Damn thing is older than he is. The dark liquid swishes in the bottle as he staggers away from his so-called friends. He’s heard enough.

He knows where to find you, pushing through the sea of already drunk co-eds and wrapping an arm securely around your waist, slotting himself into your gossip session with a friend.

You’re so excited to see him, greeting him with a polite kiss to the cheek and leaning into his touch. You’re always so kind to him. He has to lean in close to whisper in your ear, his voice sullen and serious, “Could I talk to you for a minute? — In private.”

It isn’t until he closes the door to one of the guys’ rooms, that he notices exactly how drunk you are. You gasp and wobble and drop down onto the bed, bursting out laughing.

He doesn’t laugh with you. Instead, he brings the bottle of whiskey to his lips and takes a long drink. Lurking in the doorway, watching you.

As the bottle drops back to his side, Malcolm just remembers watching you. He doesn’t remember walking any closer until he’s sat beside you and holding your face in his hands.

“God, Mac — how much have,” You have to pause to hiccup, covering your mouth with your hand, unaware that you’re slurring your words too. “How much have you had to drink? — You reek!”

“Just a bit.” He mumbles, the bottle heavy in his hand as he leans forwards and kisses you. You comply happily at first. Well, you seem happy enough to him, even if he does smell kind of like a distillery.

Maybe the two of you talk more, maybe you don’t. The only thing Malcolm knows is that he has securely rounded the corner into second base before you start to fuss at him. You’ve let him get this far before, what’s the big deal now?

The dress you’re wearing is a flimsy blue satin thing, not particularly festive for the holiday party, patterned with expensive looking shimmering detailing. One of them has slipped off of your shoulder to make room for his hand to slip under the velvet fabric and cup at your breast.

“Stop it — what if someone comes in?” But you’re still kind of giggling with him, grabbing at his shoulders. If you wanted him off of you, you’d say so. You have before.

You’re not that kind of girl. Malcolm scoffs to himself at the idea. Your neck is soft against his lips and your perfume drives him crazy.

“It’s just sex, it’s not a big deal.” He mutters into the crook of your jaw, and the mood flips. He feels you pushing weakly at him, all it does is bunch his sport coat and make it fall back off of his shoulders.

“Sex? — Here?” You’re not making much sense, losing your composure and your ability to form a real sentence at once. Not so classy now.

As Malcolm sits back to shrug his jacket off and looks down at you, your chest halfway exposed and your eyes struggling to track him, he feels a pang of guilt strike him. Slowing himself, his heartbeat is in his ears as he fixes your dress to cover you once more and leans down to kiss at your lips.

“I’ll marry you,” He whispers against your mouth, pleading. “I have a ring. I was going to ask you anyway. Your father loves me, you know he does. You believe me, right, honey?”

You had said yes once before. You were going to let him. After prom night, your senior year; you were going to the same college and your families liked each other. He’d gotten too drunk and screwed it. Couldn’t even get it hard. It seemed to freak you out, after that you’ve barely let him close. Now, you’re seniors again. He just needs you to say yes once more.

“Not here.” Your face wrinkles and turns away from him, maybe it’s just the smell of whiskey but the rejection damn near makes him see white. He remembers how uncoordinated your efforts to shove at his hands were.

The next thing he remembers is Catherine stumbling in looking for you, and you trying to bolt. He had caught you the first time.

You were screaming at him, shoving him, calling him a pig. He was arguing right back at you. He’s always known exactly what to say to make your argument feel paper-thin.

The second time you had run, he had let you go, picking up his half-finished whiskey and pouring it into his mouth. He knew you wouldn’t say a word to your parents, you would be too ashamed.

The last thing that you remember from that night is being downstairs, laughing with your friends, with his arm around your waist.

The drive down to the farmhouse is a little over an hour from Florence, one of the shorter journeys of your trip. No need for stops or bathroom breaks. You had settled into your seat, covered your ears, and turned the volume on the Walkman as loud as it would go.

When you were packing tapes for the trip, you hadn’t once considered to bring Christmas music. Now, you’re wracking your brain trying to remember the song that had been playing. Remember any part of that night at all.

Once she had realized what she had said, Catherine had grown defensive and apologetic. She wouldn’t tell you much. Like she was covering something.

You’ve been staring unseeingly at the Tuscan countryside as it passes you by, Kate Bush as your soundtrack. I should be crying but I just can't let it show.

He wouldn’t hurt you. This is the same man who took you out to his mother’s rose garden and gave you the most stunning Tiffany necklace you’ve ever seen as a gift. The man who hugs you so close against him, and sits through your chick-flicks with you.

Your parents adore him, and it’s their job to protect you. Your father is a wonderful judge of character, and Malcolm won his seal of approval years ago.

All these miles of land whizzing by, outside of this ugly little minivan, are starting to make you sick. You close your eyes and listen to Kate.

Oh, darling, make it go

Make it go away

Your eyes burn under your eyelids, prickling with tears. Even worse, it makes your face burn with furious heat to think of any one of these people seeing you cry. Your stomach is trembling with unease, a static feeling in your fingers and toes is the only thing reminding you that you can feel them at all.

Breathing in shakily, you squeeze your eyes more tightly closed, gritting your teeth to will the tears away.

You just need to remember. You can’t go accusing him of something awful. He’s always been so good to you. He’s your future. You just need to get your bearings, and figure it out. Maybe you had led him on. Given him the wrong idea.

It’s such a short drive, and for once, there doesn’t seem to be any drama that requires his attention. Bradley has let himself get so behind on his work that he spends the duration of the drive with his papers sprawled out across the bench, making annotations and edits.

“Whoa, look at this place!” Zoe gasps, leaning over the seats to get a look at the sprawling driveway, lined with green trees and shrubs, marking the way toward the farmhouse. It’s an incredible building, sprawling and stone, dotted with climbing plants along the walls and planted flowers in the window boxes.

Bradley closes his notebook and looks up finally, then looks across at Pasquale with a small smile.

“Did I ever tell you guys that this is where Pasquale and I met?” Bradley announces to the group, turning around in his seat to face them.

“All the way out here?”

“Yeah. We worked here together one fall.”

Bradley had heard of Alessandro’s work early into his studies. It was Natasha who got him the job here. He arrived in September and left in December, this place gets cold as the months go on. Now, it’s warm and everything is in bloom. It smells sweet and citrusy. Sandro had always sworn that the apricots grown here were the best in the country.

“Then, when Mr. Bradshaw had been accepted for his summer work here with the university, I was the first person he called to be your tour guide.” Pasquale adds with a grin as he pulls up in front of the old house. Bradley hums. Pasquale has always been a good friend to him.

As soon as the engine stops, the heavy wooden front door is thrown open and a tall man with long, dark curls comes jogging out, grinning.

“Bradley Bradshaw!” His accent is thick, but mixed. Not entirely Italian. His cheeks dimple as his grin stretches across his olive toned skin, watching Bradley tear out of the minivan and head for him.

“Sandro,” Bradley grins, grabbing hold of the slightly shorter man by his shoulders and dragging him in for a hug before leaning in close and shaking the man a bit as he chuckles out something in Italian that makes them both laugh. You miss it, barely pulling your headphones off of your ears as you step out of the van.

“I don’t know what that means but I know it was a swear word.” Abigail announces, making Bradley laugh as he turns to her again. She’s not wrong, he had happily just called Alessandro something not too dissimilar to a son of a bitch. Endearingly.

He hooks an arm around Alessandro’s shoulders and turns him coolly towards the group. “Guys, this is Alessandro Gabris. Not quite the man of the house but a hell of a storyteller.”

Alessandro turns his head and whispers something back that can only be as filthy as whatever Bradley had said to him, because it makes them both double over laughing. Their inside joke makes Pasquale laugh along with them. That autumn had been such good fun, the three of them.

Alessandro glances behind him as an older man walks out of the building, wheeling an elderly woman in a wheelchair. He smiles as he gestures to her.

“And this is my mother, Teodora Gabris.”

“Oh, I remember,” Bradley’s lips stretch into a warm grin as he breaks the haphazard formation of the group, unwraps himself from Sandro and steps towards her, crouching in front of her wheelchair, slipping his sunglasses off. The woman’s face changes, brightening with recognition. “Don’t break my heart, Dorie, you remember me too, huh?”

The crinkles beside her eyes deepen as she lifts her hand and rests it against his cheek, tilting her head to examine his face.

“The artist.” She remembers, making Bradley laugh fondly. He’s familiar with her in a way that makes both of their grins broaden as he leans in. He’s far from an artist, and she knows it. But, he has a way with words and a way with women, and that had amused her all of those years ago.

In her youth, Teodora traveled from the Kefalonian countryside to the centre of Paris, where she had trained with oil paints. She’s the real artist.

“How have you been?” He asks.

She just looks around her, gesturing to her little slice of Tuscany, blooming into the July heat, and back to him finally. Bradley nods his head, unable to shake that smile from his face. She has her little slice of heaven already, how could she not be happy?

“You haven’t aged a day.” He tells her, his large hand resting softly against her now frail wrist.

You stare between the two of them. The affection they have for each other, and the joy on her face as she remembers the boy he was. His hand sitting so gently on her skin.

“You have.” She teases, pinching his sunwarmed red cheeks. He laughs, sharing her gaze for a beat before he stands upright once again.

Of the six places that you have visited so far on this trip, Bradley has been greeted warmly by someone who once knew him in every single one of them. Even Natasha, who hates him for his betrayal, finds it in herself to revel in the safety of still being near him.

You don’t remember your interaction with him that night either. He could have done anything. He could have left you there. You can only imagine the look your mother would have given him when he took you home. You weren’t ever even particularly nice to him, you’d talked through his class all through first semester. He took you home and made sure you were safe anyway.

“Hey, are you okay?” Suddenly there’s a hand on your wrist and it feels like scalding water. You pull swiftly away from it and whip your head around to find Abigail leaning towards you, her features creased with concern.

Your cheeks are hot, and wet. Fuck, they’re wet. Quickly, you bring both hands to your face and start wiping hurriedly at your tears. You can’t bring yourself to do anything but blink dumbly at her, your shoes dragging across the dirt below you as you stumble a step back.

As he hears the question, Bradley turns and shoots a glance over his shoulder. His face falls, turning completely to do a double take as he notices your teary face.

“Hey, hey — what’s the matter?” Bradley’s size thirteen converse tennis blancs trample across the dirt and stones, long strides and heavy footfalls. Your stomach churns at the thought of those heavy hands on your skin, of his frame up close and looming over you, of getting stuck between him and the minivan behind you.

He slows as your foot slips back and fumbles for purchase in the dirt, muddying your white sneakers.

Everyone behind him is looking at you now. You’re painfully aware of the twisted up look on your face but it’s the only thing keeping you from sobbing.

Humiliation stings. All of them looking at you like you’re ridiculous. Not being able to remember. Simultaneously wanting to throw yourself into Bradley’s chest and beg him not to touch you.

Bradley lowers his voice just slightly, also well-aware of all of the eyes on you suddenly. “Look at me. What’s the matter?”

Your lip trembles, trying not to look at anyone around you. Your eyes steady on his, your throat thick and your heartbeat thundering.

“Can I talk to you about something?” You croak out.

There’s a study downstairs, just off of the living room. Bradley clicks the door shut behind him, his brows drawing together as your pace away from him.

“Honey…” He says softly, like he’s trying to soothe a cornered animal. You round on him like one, eyes wide. He’s never seen you so spooked. “Talk to me. What happened? — I can’t fix it if—“

“You can’t fix it.” Your voice cracks and gravity grows stronger, forcing you to the ground. Crumpling like a piece of paper, you curl your knees up to your chest, a sob wracking your body.

“Okay, alright,” Bradley breathes out, clicking the lock on the door and following you to the ground. You flinch as his heavy hand comes to rest against the back of your neck, stroking softly over the top of your styled hair. “Let me hear it, it’s no good keeping it to yourself.”

“Please don’t touch me,” You whisper into your knees, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. Your skin crawls, trying to picture Malcolm on top of you, wondering how you couldn’t remember. “Could you… could you just please not.” You decide finally, wiping hurriedly at the damp spots under your eyes.

He doesn’t follow. It was just last night that you were so comfortable in his arms, staring up at him with that electric, trusting look on your face. But he gently takes his hand off of you anyway.

“Is this about that phone call?” Bradley asks gently, suddenly unsure of where to put his hands. His instinct is to hold you.

Light pours in from the tall, wide window to your side. It’s far too warm, and too sunny in here for you to be feeling this awful. It feels like the ground is going to swallow you whole, if the weight in your chest doesn’t take you out first.

“Talk to me, honey. Tell me what happened.” Bradley encourages, bracing his elbows on his knees and lowering his head to try to meet your gaze.

“I think Malcolm — that night that you found me in December, I think— I think that he—“

Bradley’s eyes go round, the concerned frown on his face falling all of a sudden. He stares at you as you sob into your hands. He remembers that night so clearly. From waking up face down in a textbook chapter about Pre-raphaelite attitudes towards monogamy, to squinting to figure out what that figure in the snow was. Seeing you there, barely conscious. Practically deadweight in his arms as he had lifted you.

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

You lift your head to look at him, the colour drained from your skin, eyes pleading.

“Did he tell you this?” Bradley asks you softly.

“No. Catherine said — she said something about finding— fuck, she said something about finding him… on top of me.” Your throat is hoarse and your words are barely coming out as you try to hold back floods of tears. If you let yourself keep crying, it feels like you might not ever stop.

Bradley lifts his hand and pinches at the bridge of his nose. He inhales for six, exhales for seven. Then, he reaches out slowly and rests the tips of his fingers against the outside of your ankle.

“I don’t remember.” You choke out. He looks across at you, thinking of how proudly you had been showing off your engagement ring. No clue what an animal your fiancé was. Your lip trembles. “I don’t remember it.”

His gaze flickers immediately to your hands covering your face as the midday sun catches the rock on your ring finger, glistening in the light. You never would have said yes if you had known.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry,” He whispers, curling his fingers softly around your ankle. It takes everything not to wrap himself around you and shield you from everything outside of these four walls. This dusty old office, sunlight shining across ever single chip and dent in these old floor boards, just you and him.

“If I wasn’t such a mess, then—“

“Hey,” His fingers squeeze softly at your ankle, prompting you to look up at him, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. He gives a soft shake of your head. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A few seconds pass between the two of you. His fingers don’t dare inch from the safety of your ankle, if that’s as much of you as he is allowed to touch, then that’s what he’ll take.

He can’t imagine the fear in not knowing.

You swallow softly and push onto your knees, crawling closer and pushing yourself into his chest. Bradley tucks one arm around your waist, doing his best not to cage you against him as you bury your face into his neck. You can feel him giving you room to retreat.

It’s such a strange thing, not wanting him to touch you but at the same time wanting to be held by him until the rest of the world stops. The thought of his hands on your skin makes you sick, but you want nothing more than to bury your face in the crook of his neck and pretend that none of this is happening. Like he’s not a separate man, not something to fear — just an extension of self, almost.

“It’s not your fault.” He tells you again, running his hand along your back, finally letting his eyes fall shut. Your breathing is jagged and gasping with the sobs, coming out quickly against the skin of his neck. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I should remember. I — I thought I’d know, or… feel… and I don’t remember any of it.”

His stomach knots, his palm resting between your shoulder blades as he cradles you against him.

It wasn’t that long ago that he couldn’t stand the thought of you. He had taken what he had seen of you in his classroom and come to the decision that you were selfish, and spoiled, lazy. He had no idea.

Since then, he has grown to know that you’re none of those things. You’re defensive, sure, he can be too. You’re a product of your upbringing, to an extent. But you’re witty, and smart, and you’re far from selfish. Bradley has seen your curiosity up close for weeks now. Your potential weighs on his mind, it keeps him up at night thinking of the future you’d have if you just had someone tell you that you could.

He hugs you against his chest and turns his face into the crook of your neck.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He promises. There’s no way around it, or over it. He couldn’t have stopped it from happening. This isn’t about him or the way that he feels for you. He holds you close, rubbing firm circles across the length of your back for as long as you’ll let him.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, your face buried into the warmth and familiarity of his neck. “You — You should be out there with everyone. I just need a minute.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Bradley whispers.

And he doesn’t. He sits there and holds you until he feels your breathing start to get slower and longer against him. Then, he strokes a strand of hair gently off of your face. “You feeling tired?”

“Exhausted.” You whisper.

He nods softly and kisses the top of your head. If he could, he would happily have carried you upstairs and put you to bed himself. Instead, under the watchful eye of the rest of your class, he has to point your directions from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ll be upstairs to check on you in a bit. Get some rest.”

And he does come up a bit later. You’re not sure exactly how much later, but it’s dark when the first knock wakes you up.

See, the first knock doesn’t warrant pulling yourself out of this unfamiliar bed. The pillowcase is damp but for now, you seem to have run out of tears. The second knock is more tempting, if only to make the sound stop.

Bradley doesn’t knock a third time. Instead, he takes a quick glance at the empty hall around him and leans in close, “It’s me. Can I come in?”

You already knew it was him, there’s no real need for him to announce himself. Still, you grace him with a tired sound of acknowledgment and force yourself out of the fetal position. The old doorknob creaks and clicks, then the door itself creaks as it opens. It would be pretty difficult to sneak around in a big old house like this one.

“Hey.” Bradley greets you softly, cautiously. You offer him a tight-lipped smile. He brings a hand from behind his back and shows you a plate with roasted potatoes and vegetables — something else that you can’t quite see, a starchy baked dish.

Through no fault of his own, he doesn’t get much of a reaction from you at all. You make no effort to reach for the plate. He crosses the room and sets it down on top of the dresser.

“Brought you some dinner, and uh…” Bradley hasn’t felt sheepish since his second day of basic training, and yet, his eyes are on the floor as he pulls his other hand from behind his back. “I brought you this.”

You watch as he sets the blue fabric in front of you, folded neatly.

“Your shirt?”

He scratches at the back of his neck, walking right on by you to sit against the window ledge. Cool air bristles his nape and makes him sit up a little straighter, letting you catch his eye.

“I don’t know, I thought…” He stares at the blue fabric in your hands and gives his head a soft shake. “I don’t know what I thought, but keep it for tonight.”

He knows what his thought process was, he just can’t bring himself to say it out loud. It sounds selfish now. I thought that since I can’t be with you, maybe a piece of me might help. How ridiculous of him to make himself so important in all of this.

“Here,” He remembers, pushing himself away from the window and taking the plate in his hand again, “Come on, you should eat something, while it’s still hot. It’s good.”

You pull your knees to your chest as he perches himself on the bed beside you, setting the plate down. You settle down, crossing your legs and lifting the plate into your lap, picking up the fork.

He watches, chewing at the inside of his lip as you push the vegetables around the plate.

“How’re you feeling now?”

“Stupid for bawling my eyes out like that.” You answer him meekly, spearing the fork through a grilled red pepper, pushing it through some of the juice from the baked dish.

His eyes search across your features.

Neither one of you says anything for a moment as you shake the pepper from your fork and stab it instead through a piece of eggplant.

“You’re not stupid.” He tells you, his brows drawing together as he watches you periodically wound the food on the plate.

“He was clearly unhappy, and I didn’t even notice. My own boyfriend and I didn’t have a clue,” You jam the fork into a particularly stubborn chunk of zucchini and letting the fork clatter to the plate. Bradley stares back at you. “If he was happy then—“

”Don’t defend him to me.” Bradley interrupts you, his voice calm but grave. In a roundabout way, he understands how your thought process has led you here, but he can’t listen.

”No, I’m — I’m not. But it’s my responsibility as his partner—“

”Stop it.” Bradley deadpans. He lowers his head and meets your gaze. His tone suggests that he is growing frustrated but his eyes are another story, soft and warm, honeyed as they search across your face. “You were blacked out drunk. Whatever you think you owe him, it wasn’t his in that moment. You get that, right?”

He’s trying to help. You know that he’s trying to make it better, but it isn’t. Your nape feels hot and your throat feels sore. If he’s right, if that’s really true — if it was never your fault — then where do you go from here?

Your wedding is eighteen days after you fly home. The dress, the centre-pieces, the bridesmaids and the venue — everything is already all set up.

You suck in a soft breath and bury your face in your hands. Bradley lifts his palm and smooths a hand softly over the nape of your neck.

“Look, I just—“

“Can you go?” You breathe out shakily, dropping your hands from your face and meeting his gaze. His mouth hangs open, and you just know that he’s going to keep on talking. “Just go. Please. I want to be alone.”

Finally, he closes his mouth and gives a solemn nod.

“Okay,” He gives your shoulder a soft squeeze before standing up from the bed. “I’ll come see you tomorrow morning.”

With him gone, the quiet is worse this time. Out here in the country, there’s nothing but you wracking your brain for answers that just won’t come. At some point, you make yourself eat some of the now cold food Bradley had brought you just to settle the rumbling in your stomach.

Then, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. It’s a tall thing with a wooden frame, angled to face the bed. Your fingers reach down and curl into the hem of your nightgown, thinking of the blue Dior dress sitting in your closet at home now. It’s around this length, one of your shorter articles of clothing. You had been so excited to find that dress.

Standing in it that day in the floor, you had felt like Cinderella, right out of the pages of a storybook. Ridiculous.

Quickly, you grab at the hem and tear it off of your body. Almost naked, you examine yourself in the reflection. Something makes you walk forwards and your eyes squint, scrutinizing the flesh before you. Wondering how much of it Malcolm has seen, really.

You wonder which parts of it come to mind, when the two men who have seen your body think about it. The softness of your stomach? The way your breasts sit? — Something different entirely, maybe. Your self-examination is short-lived and exhausting all at once.

Turning back around, you spot Bradley’s shirt sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s a soft, heavy cotton, and it smells wholly of him. It slips easily over your shoulders, your fingers working nimbly to fasten the buttons.

You tilt your head, observing the way you look wrapped in his clothes. Then, you look around the room. Without Bradley to occupy your evening, the sudden lack of television or alternate entertainment strikes you.

Stuck with little other option, you grab your walkman from the dresser and head over to your suitcase. Armed with the cassette, wrapped in Bradley’s shirt, you cross the room and settle back into this unfamiliar bed, setting the headphones over your ears. You click open the cartridge and look down at the new tape in your hand.

Written across the front of the plastic in red marker, calligraphy: Our Wedding Tape 1986. It was a parting gift. Something from your future husband to lift your spirits when you were feeling low over here.

You lay back against the pillows, closing your eyes and hitting play. Slowly, the opening chords of The Commodores’ Three Times a Lady start to play in your ears. Your stomach flips, but you inhale, squeeze your eyes tighter and it’s almost better.

It’s soft, and slow — almost like a lullaby. But, your blood is coursing so hot and fast through your veins, it feels more like you’re running a marathon. Hot tears burn behind your eyes once again, reminding you that you haven’t actually run out of them. That they might never really stop.

To touch you, to hold you, to feel you, to need you.

There’s nothing to keep us apart.

You’re once, twice, three times a lady, and I love you. I love you.

As the lyrics pause and piano chords once again fill your ears, you realize that you’re gritting your teeth. You inhale sharply and snatch the headset off of your head, tossing it harshly onto the floor and causing the walkman to bust open. The cassette falls to the floor, but at least the music stops.

You’re breathing like you’re being chased. You wipe hurriedly, wanting the tears off of you, kicking back the covers, wanting everything off of you. As you wipe the salty tears from your jaw, you remember the metal on your finger.

As with the Walkman, you tear it off and throw it. It lands atop the dresser, the light catching the diamond, it sparkles back at you like a wink.

You had been so ridiculously happy on the day that Malcolm had proposed. Surrounded by your friends and family, wearing a beautiful dress, the centre of attention. Ridiculous.

You sink back down and turn onto your side, facing away from the dresser and the winking reminder that sits atop it. Sleep comes for you quickly, taking place of the crying-induced headache and drowning out the faint Commodores chorus lurking in your mind.

You’re awoken by a soft knock on the heavy wooden door. Sunlight is already pouring in through the curtains and something tells you that you missed breakfast. This will be Bradley. You let him knock again. Then, a third time. Eyes still closed, you groan softly and press your face into the pillow as a fourth and fifth knock ring out.

Stubborn asshole. You tear the covers the rest of the way back and push up from the bed, padding across the hardwood floor and pulling the door swiftly open.

Abigail and Zoe stand outside, dressed in tank tops and shorts with bathing suit strings peaking out. Your mouth falls slack as you try to close the door to cover yourself a bit.

“Oh—“ Your eyes widen, lips parting. It’s obvious to the both of them instantly that they aren’t who you were expecting to see. “Sorry, I thought you were Bradley.”

Zoe glances at Abigail, Abigail glances at Zoe, they both look down at the slightly wrinkled blue button up that falls down to your mid thighs. Bradley wore something really similar in Venice.

“We, uh — well, we’re just heading down to the lake. We were going to swim, and get some work done. Sandro gave us some snacks and some lemonade,” Zoe has a real talent for cramming as much information into as short a breath as she can, showing you the contents of the little cotton bag on her shoulder at the same time. She stops finally, allowing herself to smile in her pause. “If you… maybe wanted to come with us.”

You neither retreat or reply. For a second too long, you just look between the two of them, completely wordless.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Abigail answers quickly, she looks at Zoe and they both quickly offer you nods of agreement. “Don’t feel like you have to—“

“No— I-I— yeah. Thanks. That would be cool.” You shift your weight from foot to foot, balancing one one, toeing at the aged floorboards under you. It feels strange, wanting so badly to go with them.

Up until you reached this threshold, you were so certain that you didn’t give a damn about the way they felt about you. Maybe you don’t, really. You sure wouldn’t if you were back home. But here, the feeling of finally being invited is something weightless.

“Cool.” Zoe smiles awkwardly back at you. You wonder if your smile looks half as apologetic as hers does.

Abigail bristles to attention, shrugging her tote closer to her body and reaching down to take Zoe’s hand. “Well, we’ll wait for you downstairs? We can all head out there together.”

They’re wearing swimsuits. You should dig your swimsuit out of your case. Maybe they’ll be upset if you make them wait too long.

“Thanks, I’ll be quick.”

And then you’re walking around the left side of the house and heading across the fields, they’re explaining how wonderful Teodora is, how she told them about a wild swimming spot just over the hill.

They’re curious about you. You were so angry in the beginning, so restless and unhappy. That seems to have faded away now. They still don’t know a single thing about you really, not as much as they would like to.

“Are you feeling better? — Bradley said you weren’t feeling well.” Abigail is tall and dark-skinned, with round glasses and her curly hair usually in two French braids. Today, she’s wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt that belonged to her father, and a pair of denim cut-offs.

“It’s not contagious, right?” Zoe adds as she trails alongside you. She’s shorter than Abigail, with dark hair and green eyes. She’s the only sophomore on the trip — you wonder what she had done to impress Bradley enough to let her come.

You shrug your shoulder bag closer to your body and make yourself smile. “Much better. I think I just didn’t drink enough water and I was tired. Just… out of sorts, I guess.”

“It’s good that Bradley was so kind to you about it,” Zoe hums absently, adjusting her thick-rimmed sunglasses. Red runner shorts and complimentary red and white striped adidas sneakers, and long tanned legs. She looks right out of a commercial — but one of the well done ones. Not cheesy or anything. “Called his office once to tell him that I couldn’t take an exam because I was super sick, that fucker didn’t believe me until I dragged myself in there and puked on those old Nikes he used to wear.”

You hum out an amused sound. That makes two of you who have puked on his shoes.

“He feels bad for me because my fiancé’s a jackass.” Maybe it’s a lie, maybe it’s the truth. You believe both sides of it, in part. Bradley does feel bad for you. But he would have held you in his arms yesterday even if he didn’t.

To them, it makes sense. There has been plenty of gossip about you over the last five weeks. Some of it, admittedly, they had engaged in. Everyone is pretty curious about why you’re getting married so young, and equally curious about all the time you’ve been spending with their cool, cocky professor.

Watching you stumble away from the group sobbing yesterday, there had been a few whispered rumours about the cause. Maybe Bradley dumped her because she wouldn’t put out. That one was especially cruel.

To Abigail, someone that heartbroken didn’t deserve to be made fun of. It had looked like your heart had been clean ripped out of your chest. She had whispered to Zoe about it last night in the darkness of their room, from the top bunk, and the two of them had decided to approach you today.

”How long have you two been together?” Abigail toes the line between prying and learning enough about you to potentially calling herself your friend. You probably should mind, but this is standard practice back home — girls who don’t care wanting information they don’t deserve. Something tells you she’s not like that.

”Since high school.” You tell her.

She slows slightly and turns her head to look back at you over her shoulder. You’re looking down at the dirt and grass and wildflowers, setting one white shoe in front of the other, denim shorts and a green blouse, that sad look on your face again. It’s different than the kind of sadness she saw in you yesterday — but it’s a look she has seen on you before.

A kind of acceptance to it, like you’re at peace with the sadness you’ve known.

”People grow a lot after high school.” It’s wonderful that you have managed to stay together. It’s probably time to call it quits. Her sentence seems unfinished and leaves you guessing, but it doesn’t condemn you to her own decision on the matter the way that Bradley’s black and white had.

You look up from the ground and meet her gaze. You smile and nod. People sure do.

Bradley gets caught up in the kitchen with Teodora as he is fixing you a plate of breakfast, guessing at your favourite morning foods. He only really dines with you in the evening.

“Is that for the girl?”

Bradley hums and nods, frowning at the cooked mushrooms. He can’t remember if you love them or hate them. After five dates, he should probably know that. He shouldn’t have been on any dates with you. They’re just mushrooms—

“She left already.” Dorie shrugs without looking up from the morning paper. Bradley’s fingers curl tighter around the plate. He turns slowly, to face her.

“She what?”

”Yes, the girl with the tattoo and the girl with the long legs,” Dorie tells him, glancing up and taking note of the panicked expression on his face. Abi and Zoe. He swallows a bit. They’ll be good to you. “They all went out by the lake to work. They’ll be back in the afternoon.”

The last time he had been here, Bradley had been hopelessly in love with another. He kept a picture of her in his wallet. Pretty little thing with her middle finger pointed right at the lense as she sunbathed topless on a beach in the south.

Teodora won’t pry, but she suspects there might be a new picture in Bradley’s wallet now.

“Oh. Right,” He sets the plate down and stares at it, unsure of what to do with the extra food now. “I… I guess I’ll get started with some work. I’ll be in the sitting room.”

She nods politely at him, he sets the plate in the fridge and leaves to gather his work things. God, he hopes they’ll be good to you. He had been so afraid that Dorie was going to tell him you had jumped on a flight back to the States. He has more time.

He was up practically all night, thinking of that loser’s hands on you. It makes him sick to remember how limp you had been in his arms when he had first picked you up from the snow.

The sitting room in the Gabris estate is sprawling — it’s a real space to entertain. There were a lot of parties here back in the day. Now, there’s a dust sheet over the piano and the nude portrait of Teodora’s lover is gone from above the mantle.

Bradley settles down into an armchair and pulls together his notes, sun pouring through the windows, a fog settling across his thoughts. 3pm. Three PM. That’s when he hears the eruption of laughter, bubbling up and spilling through the house. After that, comes the sound of wet shoes squeaking on the hardwood.

His chin propped against his fist, he cranes his neck as Zoe appears first in the hallway. She spots him and stops like a caught kid, her mouth falling open. Then, you. Then, Abi. All three of you are soaked head to toe, dripping water onto the floors.

You stare back at him dwarfing the patterned armchair, surrounded by papers, peering at you over the top of his reading glasses. He doesn’t say a thing, taking his time in looking the three of you over. Finally, his lips twitch.

”We went swimming.” Zoe breathes out, laughing.

Bradley hums against his hand, his eyes visibly flicker from your bare feet to the soaked clothes clinging to your body, and finally at your face. From behind his fist, a smirk toys at his lips.

He’s so grateful to see you look so mischievous. Anything but the way you were looking at him yesterday.

”I can see that,” He agrees, amusement dripping from his voice. Your smile turns sheepish as you cross your arms in front of your hips and shift your weight from left to right, and back again. “Did you get those pages that I asked you for all done.

”Most of ‘em.” Zoe nods. Eighty-percent still counts as most. Besides, you know that Bradley will listen if you plead your case. He hums again, a sound of understanding this time, and inches his knees further apart as he sits upright.

”Well, I take it that you’ll be a bit late to our study session.” He’s looking right at you with that devilishly handsome smile on his face, and a softness to his eyes that makes you want to pour yourself right into his lap.

“Shit,” You snap out of it, whipping your head around to look for a clock. Bradley glances down at his watch, already fully aware that you’re forty minutes late. He looks back to you, smiling. “I’ll get changed.”

”I’ll be here.” He tells you, looking back down to his work.

You glance down at the puddle you’re leaving on the floor, and then back up at the girls. They watch you blink like you’re remembering that they’re there.

“We’ll come up with you.” Abigail nods for you to go ahead and Zoe slips her palms into yours.

Bradley glances at the exchange over the top of his workbook, her hand in yours. The smile on your face as you peer back at them and head for the stairs. He bites the inside of his cheek and finally exhales.

His next breath in feels a little bit easier.

“So, how long do you usually have to spend with Bradley every afternoon?” Zoe asks, padding up the wooden stairs behind you. They creak with every step, but not enough for you to pretend not to have heard her question.

You shrug your shoulders, trying to at cool about it. Bradley would at cool about it. He doesn’t seem ashamed at all.

“It depends. He gives me different tasks to do. Sometimes we get through them quickly, other times he decides to be an ass about it.” That feels about right.

“Like class work?”

“Yeah,” You glance back over your shoulder as you reach the landing. “I’m not much use to him as a research assistant if I still don’t understand the class material. You know?”

“Right.” Abigail nods along with you.

“Well, I’d better go get dry…” You remember, gesturing to your door. They both nod along, but you don’t move. You hug your shoes and your bag to your chest and try to smile. “Thanks for inviting me today. I appreciate it.”

“Any time. You’re a good time.” Zoe grins, lifting her arm and draping it casually around Abigail’s shoulders.

Your goodbye is a brief nod and a pleased smile, before you turn and head back to your room. You strip out of your clothes and leave them to dry against the open window, then throw on something dry.

Bradley hears your shoes racing down the stairs and closes his book. You grab the archway and swing around the corner into the sitting room.

“Okay — ready.”

He braces his elbows against his knees and gives a small shake of his head, lips quirked. “Not here.”

The two of you walk along the dirt path in the opposite direction to the lake. Up ahead of you is a mile long stretch of trees, behind you is the Gabris’ courtyard. Bradley’s two paces in front with a cigarette dangling from his lips and his books tucked under his arm.

His shorts make his legs look even longer, up high on his thighs and stretched around the muscle. His sneakers still aren’t something a college professor would wear, but you’ve grown to like them. They’re very… him.

His oversized shirts and his white sneakers, and the gold pendant that sits between his collarbones are all parts of him that you have grown to adore. The curls at the nape of his neck and the way his broad shoulders slope down into his waist.

There are plenty of things that you could name.

The smell of tobacco that follows him isn’t one of those things.

“That’s a filthy habit.” You call ahead to him.

Bradley turns his head and looks at you over the top of his gold-rimmed sunglasses, grinning amusedly, “Yeah, I’ve got a couple of those. You might be familiar with a few.”

Your mouth twitches. You almost smile at him, briefly considering that downright awful habit he’s got of delving between your thighs. Then, your face twists into a strictly unamused scowl.

“Did you pick it up when you were in the Navy?” You ask, jogging to keep up with him.

“Kinda.” He answers you, looking down at you briefly before he checks ahead again. It’s not important to mention the cigarettes behind the science building in high school; that was more an act of defiance than an addiction.

“Have you ever tried to quit?”

“Is this you asking me to?” He replies, crossing over into the tree line, shade pouring over the two of you. You watch as he takes the cigarette between his fingers and flicks ash onto the floor, branches crunching under his feet.

You follow alongside him. “Would you, if I asked you to?”

“Would you put up with me being a lot grumpier?” He asks in return.

“Probably not.”

He huffs out a dry chuckle. Finally, he stubs the cigarette out. You follow him through the woods like his shadow until you reach a clearing. It’s a pleasant mix of sun and shade, a nice place to wait out the glaring afternoon heat. This is routine by now, you sit down beside each other and he tells you what you’re doing, then you each get to it.

He’s working on his book. His face gets real serious when he’s working on his book. Makes him look older, more mature. Almost makes you forget how deviously handsome he looks when he’s grinning at you, when he looks so handsome like this.

You’re translating prose. Poetry about lust and temptation. He would have switched out the curriculum but resources are limited out here, and you don’t say a word about disliking the work he has given you. He’s afraid to ask.

To burst this bubble of blissful ignorance you’ve got going, like yesterday never happened.

”So, Zoe and Abi — did you guys have fun today?” He asks without looking up from his work. That feels like a safe enough question. You’re laying on your stomach and don’t bother to stop working to look at him either.

”Mhm. Zoe’s clothes fell off the branch and got soaked, so we figured we’d all just jump in dressed. Cooled us off on the way home.”

He glances up, smiling softly. “Look at you — walking on the wild side.”

”I know, right?” You scoff.

He looks back down to his work, examining the artwork on the left page.

“So… how are you feeling today?” He asks cautiously. About Malcolm, of course. Bradley has noticed that you aren’t wearing your ring. You’d barely remembered taking it off. It doesn’t feel any different without it. It’s not exactly life-altering. It’s just jewellery.

”Mixed up,” You owe him honesty at least, considering your complicated relationship. You shrug your shoulders weakly and frown at the page. “Confused. Angry.”

He just nods.

She turns her head to look at him. Laying on his side, pretending to organise his notes, his sunglasses masking his expression.

”I don’t want it to change things.”

”How?” Bradley answers a little too quickly for a man pretending to be otherwise occupied. His brows draw together as he meets your gaze through those darkened lenses.

“Between us,” You tell him, resting your cheek against your hand and tilting your head just slightly. Laying in the grass, about a foot away from him. Close enough for him to reach out and trail his fingers from the centre of your back to the nape of your neck, and back again. You smile softly. “I like you, you know?”

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchele @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @cherrycola27@ahoyyharrington @kmc1989 @sugarcoated-lame @mshistorylover

#could be fixed???#will be running into the void if it isn’t #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #top gun smut #professor bradley #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x you

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stevesbipanic · 1 year

Text

Happy birthday Liam!!!! @withacapitalp love U hope U enjoy ya lil pressie.

When Steve was young he loved exploring the woods behind his house. It was quiet there, peaceful. He liked looking up into the trees, watching the birds pass between their branches. One day he found a small pond near his favourite clearing. He watched the little fish and insects swim around, the frogs and the tadpoles. He would lay down on the grass and listen to the splashes of the pond and the wind and the birds and just breathe.

He went there as often as he could, he felt like himself there. One day, as he lay peacefully on the ground, the sun was suddenly blocked from his vision. He blinked his eyes open only to be startled by another boy standing over him.

"Hi!" The boy exclaimed, undeterred by the look of shock on Steve's face. The other boy had a wide grin, his front teeth were missing a hole that matched the ones in his jeans.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Eddie, I'm looking for frogs have you seen any?"

Steve glanced over to his pond, "Maybe, why are you looking for them?"

"I like watching them jump!" Eddie giggled. Steve cracked a smile at this, happy to hear the boy wished no harm upon his friends.

"C'mon there's lots of frogs over here," Steve replied grabbing Eddie's hand and pulling him closer to the pond.

The boys spent the day running around the clearing, watching the frogs and imitating their hops. Steve felt free, he felt whole. Eventually the sun began to set and the boys had to say goodbye.

"You'll be here tomorrow won't you?"

"All summer long, Eds."

But Steve wouldn't be back tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. You see when Steve returned home the evidence of his travels were written on his clothes. Grass stains, tears in his jeans, mud on his face and sticks in his hair. His mother was furious and forbid Steve from ever returning to the woods. Steve spent his days at Tommy's house for the rest of the summer.

When school returned Steve looked for Eddie but the boy seemed elusive, it was too late, Steve would never have that one perfect day again.

Years passed and the memory of that summer faded, Steve didn't return to the woods even after his parents stopped returning to their house.

Until one day, a month after the events of Starcourt Mall, Steve awoke in the early morning from a nightmare. His body moved on instinct as he quickly dressed and ran out the back door and jumping the fence. His body kept moving as he mind begged to feel safe. Eventually he stopped and crashed to the ground in sobs.

The pond laid before him, the soft splashes soothed him until only silent tears ran down his face.

"Harrington?"

Steve turned, on edge once more, and there he was, taller now, teeth grown back but Eddie Munson was here in their spot again.

"Eddie."

"Are you okay?" Eddie's opinion on Steve had soured in the years since that summer, but it didn't stop him craving the Steve Harrington he first met, the one he first loved and now he could see that Steve in the crying boy before him.

"Yeah, yeah um, I'm fine."

"Ok." Eddie knew he was lying but didn't want to push. He sat down beside Steve watching the pond.

"What're you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? You're the one that never came back Steve." The hurt from years ago bit through Eddie's words.

"I'm sorry, I wanted to but my parents stopped me." Eddie could understand that, he knew bad parents and while different the Harringtons were no less bad than his own.

"You're here now I guess."

"Sorry I'm late."

"It's ok, sweetheart, wasn't waiting long." Steve smiled at the name.

The boys sat and watched the frogs jump around the pond until Steve breathed easier. When they parted ways Steve echoed the question he was asked all those years ago.

"You'll be here tomorrow won't you?"

"All summer long, Stevie."

This time, they kept their promise.

#i really just wanted to give u a fic with frogs lol #happy birthday liam #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #ficlet

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edandstede · 6 months

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racist fucks out here acting like ed is doomed to become abusive like his father, like he is a violent monster, as if his arc isn’t about learning that he isn’t a monster at all but just a man. how are you looking at ed accepting himself, overcoming feeling like he’s the literal kraken, that he’s loveable and worthy of compassion and kindness even when he thinks the worst of himself, and drawing the conclusion that he’s an irredeemable thug - which is, by the way, what every fucking villain and antagonist thinks of him. you’re aligning your view of him with the bad guys, y’know, the ones who call him a donkey, low-born, and try goading him into violence over and over again because they think that’s all he’s worth? and yeah that includes izzy, because he did that too, it’s 90% of what he fucking did, treating him like he only deserved to live if he was performing hyper masculinity the entire time and the second he stopped he was worse than dead.

we are supposed to feel sorry for ed. the way he feels is heartbreaking. he was abandoned, had his worst fears confirmed to him by stede leaving and izzy pressing on the wound in the worst possible way, and then he fell completely into depression and suicidal ideation. he thinks it’s all he’s good for. he can’t be loved, he hates himself, he’s just the dick who killed his dad and nobody wants him for him. how can you see this very obvious spelled-out agony in him and say “hey, that guy is gonna abuse the man he loves, he’s an abuser just like his dad” you guys are just absolute bottom of the barrel scumbag dickheads, you really really are. you could not be more blatantly racist. you know damn well the show is not saying what you’re claiming it is.

also, insisting that he would ever hurt stede is just completely ignoring every single fucking thing about him. ed would never. the only fucking time stede is physically hurt by ed is when he wakes up from literal death and headbutts him. that’s it. i think we can all agree he didn’t even know what planet he was on when that occurred, and he petulantly says “good it was supposed to hurt” during a squabble that ends with stede telling ed he loves everything about him. pull the other one if you think this was ever framed as ed seriously wanting to hurt stede and not an incredibly hurt and vulnerable man still acting on a half-dead brain.

like for fuck’s sake this is the same man who hides under stede’s robe and presses his head to stede’s hand when he cries after telling him - the only person he has EVER TOLD - about killing his dad. he tells stede about the plot to kill him, and he cannot do it. he can’t lift a finger to him, he never would. he holds stede’s face with both hands when he kisses him and tells him he loves him. he brings him breakfast with a bit of twine on ‘cause he panicked and thought it needed a flourish. he rubs stede’s cashmere against his cheek. the first thing he says makes his life worth living is warmth. he imagines stede with a big goofy sweet grin and gold sparkly goldfish tail coming to save his life. he just wants to retire and have his inn with the man he loves and not worry about stede ever being in a near-death situation again. he wants stede to be safe with him. at no point are we remotely told in the text that we should be genuinely worried ed will ever, ever physically hurt stede. he protects this man with his WHOLE BODY twice and signs an act of grace to avoid him being shot. he tries to get ned to leave him alone when they’re being tortured. he jumps off the boat with jack to swim back to him and he rows back to the republic to find stede too.

he loves stede, would never hurt him, and you’re all just fucking sour your fav died and you’re saying any old shite as a result. swear to god if i catch one more of you even so much as insinuating ed is abusive i’m gonna start lobbing off toes as well.

#i’m mad #so help me if the izzy apologists find this I’M going to become monstrous #quill to paper

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zombee · 6 months

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I feel like the luckiest Our Flag Means Death fan in the world after the season 2 finale. By a series of incredible circumstances - including a significant metatextual realization that came in at the 11th hour - it was close to perfect for me.

This essay has everything. Completely normal behavior over a television series. Steven Universe references. The David Jenkins School of Whatever is Best for the Bit. Humbling catharsis.

First: this piece does not exist with the central thesis of “it’s okay to not like something but that’s not the same thing as it being bad.” I feel like thousands of words have already been written on this since Thursday, so I’m going to try to not get too in depth on that.

Second, cards on the table, because it’s relevant and I don’t want to waste your time if this is going to sour your ability to hear me out: I’m an Izzy Canyon hater. For MANY reasons, but from way before the concept of the Canyon existed, (some) Izzy fans pinged me in the same way as Snape/Kylo Ren fans did, and before May 2022 was over I went from genuinely enjoying Izzy’s character and place in the narrative to hating him because his fans made it impossible for me to enjoy him anymore.

(SOME! of his fans. Please don’t keep making me say this, although I’m not going to talk about the Canyon directly anymore after this. I know there are a ton of normal Izzy Enjoyers and even Canyonites, I am literally friends with many of them, please take this all in the good faith it’s intended and if you’re not One Of The Bad Ones then you’re fine! I very carefully don’t go anti-Izzy on main, and when I stopped enjoying his character, I stopped writing him into fics. I’m not trying to be a dick, I just want to be honest. Anyway.)

The season 2 finale made me weep over Izzy Goddamn hands.

ALL season long, I was disgruntled. All season long. I really, truly, DEEPLY appreciated what they were doing with his character and arc, I thought it was wildly on brand for the themes of community/queerness in the show, I saw the vision, I liked it!!! But. I wanted a fucking apology, yall. I needed three seconds of “sorry I called you a slur, Ed :/” and that would have been enough. But I had to let it go. It was poisoning my enjoyment of the whole season, which I loved with very little exception (not none!) and I just had to let it go. I wasn’t getting an apology. That didn’t negate what they were doing with his character.

Yall. They withheld the apology on purpose.

THIS FUCKING SHOW!!!

Let’s go back a bit. I was at the episode 6 + 7 screening, and the breakup shook me. Probably a LOT more than if I had watched it alone in bed at 3am on my laptop - five days of no sleep after NYCC, lots of emotions, seeing it on a big screen with a hundred other intense fans, etc etc - but I did see other folks reacting in parallel ways to me when the episodes aired to the regular public, so maybe I would have felt the same way. Regardless, I was mad at Stede and to a lesser extent Ed. I NEEDED AN APOLOGY FOR THAT FISH LINE. I needed it! “Whativah” autocorrects to “WHATIVAH” in my phone. I was going through it.

(When I rewatched the episode when it aired it was not nearly as bad as I remember, lol)

So now the episode 8 screeners go out and the reviews drop and I think I catch one half-glimpse of a “What a heartbreaking ending!” kind of snippet, and some of my friends who are spoiler fiends unintentionally drop little hints about similar ideas (devastating/heartbreaking/split the fandom) type shit.

And I was a fucking WRECK! about it.

I do love this whole show with my whole chest. I do!!! But I’m not rotted because this is an excellent television show, I’m rotted because two old men kiss each other! On the MOUTH!!! in an excellent television show. You get it, right? I’ve written 700,000 words across almost 100 fics and 98% of them are dedicated to those two men falling in love in different universes.

So it just did not even occur to me the “heartbreak/devastation/fandom split” would be about anything but Gentlebeard.

Another piece of this that was fucking me up - David Jenkins and his “satisfactory” ending biz. My brain was reacting like this show was ENDING ending, even if I knew logically! that this is just season 2!!! And I wasn’t ready for that, because what if it wasn’t personally satisfying, and I’m a mess about it? Why was I so worried about not liking it? I’d liked the whole season! Even if they didn’t nail the landing I wasn’t going to stop writing fic or hanging out with my pirate community & friends.

…is what I kept trying to tell myself, but the way anxiety disorders work is funny like that lol. What if I did stop writing fic and hanging out in pirate spaces? That would hurt much more than a show I like disappointing me. And for anyone who’s having that experience with ofmd s2, I’m so very, very sorry. It sucks and that’s where my epiphany came from on Wednesday before the finale.

Because it has happened to me before.

I flit from hyperfocus to hyperfocus, as ya do when you’re spicy, but the last thing to get its hooks in me PROPERLY like pirates was Steven Universe. And I did NOT like the way the regular season ended!!! (I actually really did like most of Future; that’s not what I mean. I mean season 5). I don’t like how they handled the Diamonds, tldr; I think the scope of their villainy got too out of hand, and I was left grieving the thing that had meant enough to me I ran a fan convention for four years based around it.

Side note: imagine if I had channeled the hyperfocus of almost a million words of fanfiction into an American OFMD con instead. We could have made magic :( I did consult with Our Con Means Death though so I am at least a teeny tiny bit of that one!

I did not like the way Steven ended… but I do respect the story they were telling and think they told it well.

I’m still sad about it. Steven is still one of my most beloved, it will always be beautiful and great to me, but that experience did and does sully my memories. There is so, so, so, SO much more good than bad from being in that fandom, and I cherish it. And I hope, if you’re having this experience with OFMD right now, that you’ll find similar comfort.

But, like I said at the top, “it’s okay to not like something but that’s not the same thing as it being bad” has been belabored already by people better at writing about it than me. I just had the incredible privilege to remember my brush with lower case T trauma and having that experience in my last REALLY big deal fandom. That’s why I had been so extra anxious about being disappointed. Because it happened to me before. It helped so much to connect those two.

So the finale happens, and it’s actually about twelve hours of me going from “eh, rushed but fun, whole season was great” to “THIS MAYBE IS THE BEST SHOW OF ALL TIME, ACTUALLY!”

BECAUSE THIS SHOW MADE ME CRY OVER IZZY FUCKING HANDS!!!!

They literally told me this was the story they were telling this season. “Men can change” “The end of piracy” “Ed leaving Blackbeard behind (ish).”

As for me? I didn’t get an apology for the fish. Instead, I got “Sorry I was a dick.” “You weren’t a dick. Life’s a dick.”

Just… fuckity BAM. THREE FUCKING SENTENCES resolving that fight. Saying so much in so little.

In real life, should these two men have an actual conversation about this shit? Sure!!! But that’s not how OFMD tells its stories!

It works in symbolism. It works in vibes. It works in an hour’s worth of content into each half-hour episode, and for how much lamenting I have done about the pacing, I would prefer that 100x to having to stretch it out too much.

I have said since March 24, 2022 that OFMD wields anachronism as a weapon. First and foremost, it’s fucking funny, but in addition to that, it’s stating clearly: “This is a fantasy world. This is not real history. This show is about romance (and so much more than that), and the rest is just VIBES!!!”

Sometimes vibes can be historical accuracy. Sometimes vibes can be true emotional poignancy. Sometimes vibes can be Ed finding his sunken leathers in the sea, changing underwater somehow, and coming out of the ocean like the Birth of Fucking Venus, because water and rebirth and mermaids and shit is all very prominent this season. And ALSO, and this is very important! BECAUSE IT LOOKS FUCKING COOL!

I don’t want to do much real Izzy meta here. It’s been said by others, and better than me. But it was telegraphed and it was symbolic – he was the paragon of Traditional Piracy in season 1, for goodness’ sake, and Traditional Piracy is Toxic Masculinity, and he was a part of Blackbeard and Ed had to leave Blackbeard behind (yknow, ish), and he got this ABSOLUTLEY FUCKING LOVELY! storyline about appreciating what a (queer) community can do, and god fucking shit fucking dammit… most of all, best of all (for me), was Buttons landing on Izzy’s grave at the end. Men can change. And Izzy DID!!! He did it for Ed. For love. For community. I am puzzled by “it’s fucked up to use Izzy to further Ed’s storyline” because… this was Ed’s season, in the way that season 1 was Stede’s. And Ed cannot be removed from piracy as a whole (neither can Stede!) so to have this old, set in his ways, coded-queerphobic character blossom to the point he can give this gift to Ed and to piracy… idk man. I just find it so fucking beautiful.

It is okay not to like what they did. It’s okay!!! It’s okay, and it’s okay to mourn, and while it’s not okay to do [insert vile behavior here], it’s okay to carefully examine what you think is “bad writing” vs “what you would have preferred to happen” and give good-faith, textually-based criticism on that.

But I want to remind you over and over and over again, this show works on vibes. It tells its stories leaving many, many, many gaps. There are many things I would have liked to see, and y’know what? I would have told the Izzy story differently. I would have personally done it differently. But it’s not my show! It’s not my show, and I am humbled and delighted to remember that, and to appreciate Our Flag Means Death for what it is and not what it isn’t.

Other words have been written better than I could about the 18 months between seasons 1 and 2 and what that does to us as rabid fans with expectations of how things will go. Millions and millions and millions of words have been written about OFMD, fictional and non, and that is going to color our expectations and experience. We had built it up SO MUCH in our minds and along the way I think some of us forgot (INCLUDING ME!!!) that it is first and foremost about Vibes.

The vibes of Izzy’s death are about rebirth and forgiveness and leaving traditional piracy behind. And he got to die in Ed’s arms, knowing (HAPPILY!) that he had been wrong, and giving Ed the gift of letting him know he is loved, and being a part of something. We had a funeral but we also had a wedding. The only constant is change. Men, piracy, Blackbeard; it all changes. And Izzy found peace in that.

Before my last point, I want to @ myself on things I felt versus realizing in the end it is (I will say it until I’m blue in the face) about vibes.

· I was convinced they left Buttons’ transformation ambiguous because they wanted to leave room for it not having been real. NO!!! It is real, until they decided it isn’t. Magic in the OFMD universe? Fucking why not!!! IT’S SYMBOLIC!!! IT’S IMPORTANT TO ED’S STORYLINE AND THE CENTRAL THESES OF THE SHOW!

· I was unhappy, and still am a little, about the Polycule Situation, but now that I realize Oluwande is Zheng’s Stede… I am less so. The Zheng : Auntie :: Ed : Izzy vibes, btw? Fuckin immaculate.

· Obviously they touched on Stede/Ed’s “killing people trauma” but I’d reallyyyy like Stede to address it, and even though I think Ed’s is left on a very satisfying note, I’d like him to dip a bit more into it as well. But if they don’t, oh well! It’s not like they ignored it, they just didn’t have a Deep Dive like I Wanted Them To!

· They didn’t deal with Ed throwing Stede’s shit away. They just ignored it! Stede started to collect new trinkets, and I believe that was as much about giving the audience back the old feeling of the Revenge as it was anything important (not to say it wasn’t also important thematically!!!). Just like Ed going back to his leathers is both Extremely Important thematically and about putting Taika back in the leathers because that’s what Blackbeard should be wearing for the epic final scenes for the sake of visually keeping the show consistent. That’s Blackbeard’s uniform.

· Stede’s frilly little outfits my beloved. God I hope they give him back some of his frippery in season 3. I think they will re: cursed suit BUT his journey this season was about something else, so!

· Ed’s stupid little non-profit non-apology, oh my god. It was so funny. And there is a transition from eps 5 to 6 where Ed is back in his leathers and the crew is more comfortable around him. They didn’t have to have him do a Real Apology, it’s implied it was all settled. What was the timeline? A day? DOESN’T MATTER, BABY, VIBES!!!

· Lots more, I’m sure, but now that I’ve tried to let it all go, I’m remembering less of what I wanted and appreciating what I got!

And, last point here, I think it is also very very very important to remember that a lot of people are normal about this show. In fact, WAY more people are normal about this show than aren’t. And that is EXTREMELY! IMPORTANT!!! because otherwise it wouldn’t be profitable and we all know what would happen then. We are the core of it, to be sure. Without word of mouth that stems from our intensity, this show would not be NEARLY as successful as it is. I truly, truly believe that.

But.

Do normies need deeply emotional discussions dissecting the central relationships? No. What normies need is Ed and Stede running dramatically toward each other on the beach and kissing. And I am happy, so fucking happy, to realize that’s what I need too. I’ve got fanworks for the rest.

I love this fucking show and this fucking fandom and its fucking creators so much. Fuck.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2

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fhrlclln · 1 year

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Oh man I'd love to see like rockstar!eddie buy his first big mansion with her and him wanting to have sex in every room. I just think it's so cute that she's his high-school sweetheart. I can just hear eddie being like "come on sweetheart heart let me eat you out infront of this big fire place tonight."

rockstar! eddie x wife! reader

HE’LL MAKE HIS NO. 1 GOAL TO FUCK YOU IN EVERY ROOM IN THAT BIG-ASS MANSION. i fucking love him. 😵‍💫

nsfw/smut under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

eddie couldn’t exactly remember the whole scenario when he bought his first mansion here in LA. the earliest year of new fame had him only remembering the concerts, parties, fans screaming and bombastic sex with his wife. but the memory was a very memorable one, it was the one he cherished the most. knowing he went from living in hawkins, in a little trailer park, selling drugs, trying to make a buck back then to now buying a mansion, his own mansion with his own earnings from his passion and career.

even though the memory of living in hawkins was a sour one to him, it was still an important one knowing his uncle was the one who raised him alone in that miserable town before he took off to pursue corroded coffin. and now he thanked wayne by buying him first a house in a nice neighborhood before the mansion, when he got his first paycheck after corroded coffin’s debut album skyrocketed to the charts of billboard’s top 100. he was feeling extra cheeky when wayne practically hugged him tight that day, crying on his shoulder. never had he seen his uncle cried like that. and a month after that, he bought the LA mansion. he could taste the memory of you right beside him that day, how much you two changed yet still the same old highschool sweethearts back in ‘86.

life seemed to be almost perfect until it cemented that very faithful day, when you two moved in the mansion—

“eds, eddie—“ you huffed, back arching, hands planted on the stone tiles. water splashing around inside of the indoor jacuzzi, steam heating both of your bodies as eddie thrusted roughly inside of you. hair in a man bun, sweat glistening as he focused his eyes on where his cock was disappearing inside of your wet cunt. he was focused, he felt yourself tighten around him as his other hand detached from your ass, gliding down to rub on your clit. you gasped, grasping tightly on the floor as you let out whines as your breasts giggled at how rough he is.

well, he did say he was going to fuck you in every room in the mansion, wanting to bless it and all. it was a silly idea at first, but now it had you gasping at how relentless he is. and he was dead serious on making you cum right now.

“you close, baby?” he leaned down, still pounding into you, breathless and tone darker. you nodded as he kissed your neck, nipping the delicate skin as he worked his cock into you. you felt so tired as his other arm wrapped around your waist, leveraging you as you felt yourself slump a bit, a little too tired after fucking in the movie room and kitchen a while ago.

“you tired, huh?” he teasingly remarked. “don’t go slacking on me now, sweetheart. we still have 8 more rooms to go. i promised you to fuck you in every single one.”

“fuck me.” you muttered at that, how determined he is as eddie let out a laugh, roughly rubbing your clit as his cock abused your wet pussy making you cry out his name.

“i am.” he joked, gripping your boob as your brows furrowed at him. he continued his relentless pace, not stopping until the coil in your belly snapped and hot white enveloped your vision, cunt tightening around him as he let out a groan, following afterwards with one sharp thrust to shoot his load in your womb. water splashed everywhere as he gently let you go, making you slump at the wet tiles, panting breathlessly.

“fuck, that was so good, baby.” he leaned down to kiss your cheek as you groggily nodded, the cool air of the room sending shivers down your spine as his cum leaked out to drip down your inner thighs. eddie marveled at the sight of it making his spent cock slowly get hard again as he tapped your ass, wanting to move on to the next room making you groan loudly.

“c’mon, next room.”

“e-eddie, fuck you. i’m tired.” you pouted, slowly standing up to sit down back into the warm water as eddie stood up from the jacuzzi, getting a towel to wipe himself.

“but come on, sweetheart!” eddie protested, leaning down to kiss your forehead as you pinched his tummy making him yelp. “let me eat you out in-front of that big-ass fireplace in the living room. pretty please, baby?” he begged, kissing your lips as his damp hair sticked to his sweaty skin.

you bit your lip, taking in the sight of his physique as he caressed your hot skin making you squirm. you hummed, rolling your eyes before getting up, water splashing, bare body in front of him as he groaned, making grabby hands at it as you exited the jacuzzi. crossing your arms, slightly annoyed yet turned on that he’s made it his goal to fuck you in every room in the house. you’d comply, knowing how fucking lucky the two of you are to be living in this million dollar mansion. you’re proud of him for how much he’s now earned and had worked for, how could you say no to the love of your life and that pouty face he has on? you could almost get started in here again.

“fine. you better eat me out. i hate that fireplace.”

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem! reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things imagine #fnhrlcllnwrites #eri’s quick ideas 💡 ｡･:*˚:✧｡#eri’s request box 📦 ｡･:*˚:✧｡

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poppadom0912 · 6 months

Text

Together (X)

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, injuries, abuse, kidnappings, shootings, swearing and scary men.

Summary: Everyone's reunited at last and are never letting go.

A/N: This is the last chapter before the epilogue. I just wanna reiterate how much fun writing this has been and how much i appreciate all the love and support you've shown this series.

It's a bit too late for my liking but I've only now finished writing. This week was so busy for me but I promised and here it is!

Enjoy the last 2.5k words of angst because the epilogue is next!!🙃😊

Previous Chapter / Series Masterlist / Next Chapter

Kelly was bursting through the seams with anxiety. The entire time while responding to the car pile-up, he was riddled with it and the tension he harboured carried through to everyone else.

It put him at somewhat ease to know at least Sylvie and Violet were with you as well as Intelligence and then eventually everyone at Med. You were going to be surrounded by people you loved and vice versa.

When the scene started to get cleared up, Boden wasted no time and let Kelly go, urging him to take his buggy and promising everyone would be there once everything was finished.

The second Kelly stepped into the ED, April was at his side and guiding him towards the ICU where you were being kept for now. On the way up, she carefully explained what she knew and warned him about your appearance.

Kelly didn't know what to think till he saw your face for himself and God, he wanted to bring hell onto earth.

Jay heard his soft steps, picking up his head from the back of the chair. Kelly wouldn't say it to his face, but Jay looked horrible, eye bags dark and sullen, hair uncombed and frizzy and injury wise, the bandages told him enough. Somehow, Jay looked worse than what he did yesterday when Kelly last saw him.

Upon seeing the lieutenant, Jay tiredly smiled at him, easing himself out of his chair and half limped out the room with the IV pole in his left hand. Kelly went forward hastily to help him, telling him to sit back down or help him out the room into another seat but Jay shrugged him off, weakly pushing his efforts away.

“Go be with my sister you dumbass. April’s here to help me, don’t worry.”

And with that, he watched his childhood friend help support his supposed soon to be brother-in-law down the white hallways of the intensive care unit.

Kelly's eyes burned when he first caught sight of you. The last time he saw you was on the video he'd been sent of you screaming as you were being beaten up.

Gosh, Kelly had felt so helpless and still feels as such.

Sitting in the chair Jay had previously been inhabiting, Kelly took his time to fully study you, memorising every feature of your face once again in fear of having you ripped out his grasp again.

You looked so different. Kelly knew your body by the back of his hand and had your every single detail down to the cell engraved into the forefront of his mind. You looked so different but so recognisable, there was no mistaking that this sleeping woman was indeed you.

Six hours ago, everyone was ready to mourn the oldest and the youngest Halstead. Despite the resilience Intelligence bleed, everyone had been told to prepare for the worst and six hours ago, all hope was lost and giving up seemed so sweet but so sour it still stung now.

Kelly hesitated, hand hovering mid-air over yours, eyes cast down on your battered body that he could only see little of. Healing scabs and scars alike marred your hands, the sight making him falter, wondering if it was even a good idea to hold your hand. But then the last two days flashed in his eyes and without another thought, he gently placed your hand in his.

Relief washed over him in waves, flooding his veins. This sensation felt so bittersweet, the sweet poking the tears from his eyes and the bitter nipping at his ankles. To have you back in his vicinity, to have you back home, Kelly never wanted anything so badly before in his life. Despite this, you had been through the ringer, experiencing pain like no other, pain that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.

Actually, the Murray’s deserve worse, maybe the devil himself. Hell and a bit more sounded sufficient enough.

With his hand safely enveloping yours, Kelly felt himself calming down. Even with all the machinery beeping around him, to feel your pulse against his fingers made this dream a reality.

Soft knocking brought him out of his thoughts. Reluctantly pulling his eyes away from you, Kelly found Sylvie standing at the door with two coffees in hand, Violet nowhere in sight.

“Maggie said I can’t give this to Jay, so…” Sylvie said, dragging the word as she held out the paper cup towards him, shrugging her shoulders sheepishly when Kelly smirked in amusement.

“Thanks Brett.” Kelly smiled, gladly taking the caffeine from her hands, and drinking with no hesitation. Truth be told, no one in the firehouse slept much last night, they had too much playing on their minds.

“Crocket said surgery went well.” Sylvie started, standing by your head, fingers caressing your hair as she gently pulled each tangle apart one by one. “I know it doesn’t look like it but she’s going to be fine.”

There was a pregnant pause, Sylvie’s attention diverted and solely on detangling your matted hair before bringing a washcloth that sat on the table to get rid of any residue and dirt stuck on your face. Her trained fingers were put to work, her eyes not once leaving your face as she continued without stopping.

“She’s going to be just fine.”

*****

Kevin was overwhelmed, so was Kim and Hailey but much less so than the aforementioned man. The rest of the team, well they were off busy with the Murray’s and their many, many (somehow attained) henchmen.

The two women were bystanders in it all, coming much later and missing out the most brutal parts. The same could not be said for Kevin and Will.

The two men were following Jay out the warehouse but at a much slower pace. Kevin was supporting Will as best he could, apologising every time the doctor winced and faltered in his steps. Eventually, Jay got so far ahead that he disappeared and very likely was already outside and getting you into the single ambulance waiting.

All of a sudden, the silence that was only interrupted by Will expressing his pain was intruded by gunfire.

They really couldn’t catch a break, could they?

Will apparently remembered the hallways and pointed out a dead-end corridor for them to take cover in and despite his pain riddled brain, he wasn’t wrong.

Without any hesitation, Kevin drew his gun from his holster and shot when necessary and whenever he found someone lurking nearby. Without diverting his attention, he grabbed his walkie and called for backup, relaying both in code and not what was happening.

Eventually when some time had passed, way too long for Kevin to be comfortable with, Kim and Hailey appeared from around the corner, guns held up in caution before they lowered at the sight of the officer.

Despite having everything under control, Kevin felt better having his colleagues with him now that Jay was gone. With their help, together they could probably get Will out quicker.

Now that everything calmed down, Kevin could finally solely put his focus onto said man. Turning his back to the two women, Kevin went to talk to the redhead but found himself speechless at the sight he was met with.

Lord knows how but up above was a window that some crazy henchman busted his way through and had silently landed on the ground behind him. The man was dressed in all black, blonde hair pocking from the mask he wore armed with both a gun and knife.

Worst of all, the unnamed and very much unwelcomed man was way too close to Will for Kevin's liking.

Before Kevin could properly take care of the dude, a shot was fired, and the man fell very ungracefully onto the solid floor, the sound of the impact making all the intelligence personnel internally wince.

With the nuisance out of the way and no more pathetic distractions, Kevin turned to the redheaded man once again and the sight made him sick. So sick that he had to bite his tongue and hold back any bile from coming up.

Kim and Hailey clearly felt the same, both gasping from behind him.

The annoying man had been left ‘alone’ with Will for plenty long enough because along with all his injuries, another gaping wound had been added. Will was riddled in open wounds, the longer you stared the worse they looked. This one, instead of sitting among the others in his torso, was nicely placed in his thigh which conveniently was just above where Jay had been shot.

It seemed very convenient that every place on his body that had a wound were the places that bled the most. Will was having so much fun right now.

“Shit! Will!” Kevin rushed to kneel down before the slouched man. Chucking his gun and radio aside, quite carelessly, his brain short circuited before everything kicked in.

“Pressure.” Will coughed out, visibly struggling to keep breathing steadily. “You- you need to put pressure on it.” He repeated, wheezing as he liked his chapped and pale lips.

Without question, Hailey hastily took off the thin jacket she was wearing, rushing forward, and kneeling besides Kevin. With caution and slight apprehension, she positioned the jacket around his thigh but hesitated when she was supposed to tie it.

“This is going to hurt Will.” She said firmly, her strong tone warning him.

“The tighter…” Will started, slowly blinking up at the blonde woman who he knew secretly liked his brother and vice versa. “The better.”

And with that, Hailey tied the simplest knot and pulled hard.

“Fuck!” Will exclaimed, voice breaking. “Motherfucker-“

“Sorry! I’m so sorry but it’s all done.” Hailey incessantly apologised to him; her remorse visible on her face but before she could get up, she was stopped by a hand gripping her wrist.

“You have to go tighter.” Will stated, his fingers clutching her wrist as tight as he could but Hailey barely felt any weight. “Just like a torniquet. It has- has to be tight or else…”

“Will, stay with us man.” Kevin said, his tone leaking with urgency, almost pleading him. “You’re the doctor, walk us through it.”

Forcing his eyes open, Will blearily started at the three of them. His mind was completely muddled and subconsciously, he incredulously wondered how they hadn’t been trained to make a tourniquet in the field.

“Belt?”

Without further say, Kevin was getting up to unbuckle his belt easier, Kim replacing his space.

With much struggled, many pauses and tons of encouragement, they kept him alert enough for him to guide them through making a tourniquet around his thigh. The pain was unbearable, altogether it was blinding.

“I’m so sorry Will.” Kim whispered, sitting in front of him but she was alone with him, Kevin and Hailey gone off to find what was taking the medical attention so long to arrive. “Just a little longer I swear.”

“Jay! Stop panicking.”

“Hailey, it’s Will-“

“We’ve got him, go be with Y/N.”

“But Will- are you sure?”

“He’s trying his best, okay? Go be with our girl.”

And that might’ve been the last thing Will heard, the faint shouting between the two detective partners. Kim’s voice actually, he heard that last, her shouts for help when his eyes slid shut.

Actually, Jay’s desperate pleading, that was the last thing he heard.

*****

"It was part of protocol we run a rape kit."

Kelly couldn't breathe. His only saving grace being that Jay wasn't currently in the room with him.

"It came out clean."

Kelly physically deflated at the good news.

"It's going to take a while but she will recover. They both will." Ethan said, having permission from Crocket to tell him the news.

"And no one's heard anything about Will yet?"

The silence was so suffocating, if Kelly squinted, he could probably see Ethan turning blue from the lack of oxygen.

"We've been told we're waiting on a body. They want us to confirm it."

Kelly didn't need to ask for Ethan to break it down for him. He knew exactly what that meant.

If he looked the Korean man in the eye, Kelly would definitely see a thin sheen of tears coating his eyes.

*****

Antonio had been doing this for a long time, he’d seen and been through a lot himself but this, this would stay with him for a long time.

The guttural screams that tore his vocal cords to further damage. The blood trailed after him like the bread from Hansel and Gretel, painting the crime scene a war zone. His cries begging to know his baby brother and sister were safe and, in a hospital, where they could recover.

They were watching the innocent doctor become a martyr right before their very own eyes.

What happened next could only be explained by pure, sheer will and determination.

While they were hounding for an ambulance, Antonio caught men getting escorted away in cuffs, all looking identical until the final two men left the building. The rage he felt, Antonio didn’t know how any of them remained stationary.

It was a miracle Will came back to consciousness. When he closed his eyes and his body went limp, everyone truly thought that was it, after everything the Halstead’s had done to survive, this was the unhappy ending they were getting. But then, Will gave the biggest middle finger to fate because after all of this, she could be damned for all he could care.

Will remained alert enough, being continuously roused by each of the remaining intelligence members when they noticed his eyelids sliding shut. They tried distracting him, updating him on the wellbeing of his siblings, news that was happily provided.

The only ones that remained was Antonio and Kevin. The rest had been forced to accompany Jay just in case, they were all preparing for the worse case scenario. And Hank, he was making sure the bastards never got to see the light of day ever again.

Ten minutes passed. By now, it had been two hours since they got on the scene and an hour since they raided the warehouse. The more Will struggled; the more Antonio was losing his patience. Right before the naked eye, out in the open for the entire universe to see, Will was bleeding out; he was dying. Death was looming, crawling from a mile away but its stench was strong, it’s shadow too close for comfort.

Making eye contact with Kevin, they had a silent conversation and with no argument, they were lifting Will up and nearly carrying him towards the car.

This was their last chance and they weren’t going to wait for that ambulance anymore.

And for once, fate guided them with a beaming light. She overturned the hatred she'd shown and led them safely, holding out a much-needed lifeline.

And so when the car screeched to a halt at Med’s ambulance bay doors, Will found it easier to breathe.

Series Masterlist:

@mads-weasley @sowrongitslottie @elite4cekalyma @senjoritanana @hufflepuff-blackwidow @mrspeacem1nusone @kmc1989 @goth-cowgirl-03 @daggersquadphantom @photographerkaiya0306 @jamie0515 @samanthavitale @iamasimpingh0e @lanea-1 @swidkid @jamie0515

#one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #jay halstead x reader #onechicago #chicago fire #chicago med #chicago pd #will halstead x reader #halstead sister #halstead brothers #kelly severide x reader #jay halstead x sister!reader #will halstead x sister!reader

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courtingchaos · 6 months

Text

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

I didn’t edit this, barely read it over, and it has no title. Just trying something new with spitting some stuff out to get the ideas moving again. These cogs are frozen.

Professor Munson Masterlist

“You’re home early!” You shout from upstairs.

Ed shrugs out of his coat and throws his bag on the bench by the door. “Yeah. I was trying to beat the traffic before it started snowing.” He’d gotten out of the parking garage and directly into said traffic, cursing and yelling the whole time. Two hours later he’s finally home albeit in a sour mood.

“It’s snowing?” You’re moving between rooms, he can hear your voice shifting and he has to stop himself from telling you to look out a window. Instead he just nods into the empty foyer while he empties his pockets onto the table there and he wonders when he got so much furniture that he has dedicated entryway pieces.

“Are you in a good mood or should I leave you alone for a bit?” Your head pops over the railing with a smile.

“Why?”

“I have a surprise but I don’t want a bad mood to ruin it.”

“I’m not gonna-”

“I didn’t say you I said your mood.”

Ed sighs and rubs his eyes till his vision color bursts. “Give me a minute.”

“Okay.” Gracious as always to his old man moods you move into his office and he can hear you futzing with his set up in there. The static of speakers coming to life and the shuffling of his records follows him into the kitchen where he stares into an open fridge with no purpose.

It’s November and that means it’s time for his brain to betray him and remind him of his mother. He always does better on the anniversary of her death but something about her birthday gets him. 51 missed celebrations and if he lets his thoughts linger he’ll have another breakdown in the kitchen. This morning had been an accident, his shuffle throwing on ‘Stand By Me’ and Ed had the pleasure of crying into his English muffin before he realized he was running late. He’d deftly avoided music for the rest of the day and driven the whole two hours in silence out of fear of getting stuck in gridlock and getting sucked into another crying jag.

You’ve given him space the past few days with his distant behavior. Noncommittal grunts answering your questions and quiet stares that follow you around the house. He knows he’s being difficult but he can’t seem to pull himself out of it. However you seem to be his saving grace, taking his silence and doing what you can with it. Gentle touches to let him know you’re there, fingers combing through his hair in the middle of the night when he should be asleep. Instead of him bringing you coffee on Sunday you’d gotten up a full hour before him to complete the ritual. Crouched beside the bed to wake him up quietly, a light finger along the shell of his ear.

“Good morning.”

“Mm.”

“It’s cold out today.”

“Then get back in bed.” He grapples at your hand lazily to try and pull you over him and you let him. Flopped over his chest awkwardly he wraps warm arms around you and for a moment you think he’s already drifting off again.

“Ed?”

A beat before he takes a deep breath and you feel the catch under you. “I miss my mom.”

“Oh hun.” It’s the last thing you say for a while. Fingers card through soft curls and hold his head to your chest and he gets to be vulnerable for a while. Head buried in you, he lets his coffee go cold.

He thumps up the stairs slowly and you come out to greet him on the top step.

“You feeling better?” You’re hiding something behind you, hands tucked tight behind your back to keep his prying eyes away.

“Moderately. What’s the surprise?”

“I’m not telling you out here, come on.” You hold an empty hand out to him to guide him into his office and into his chair.

“So. I spent some money today.”

“Is that the surprise?”

“Kind of. There was an estate sale down the block, you remember Mr. Donaghue?”

“Yeah, the old man who yelled at me for having pumpkins on my stoop after Halloween?”

“Exactly.” You giggle at his outburst. “Well as you know, he passed away.”

“Mm.”

“Don’t be like that.” You circle around the desk to his record player and point a finger at him. “He wasn’t all bad, he just didn’t like pumpkins.”

Ed hums again but you continue, grabbing a square package wrapped in newspaper to drop in his lap. It’s heavy when it hits and he gives you a confused look.

“It turns out he was quite the music collector. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many 8-tracks in my life.”

“Did you buy me a stack of 8-tracks?”

You swat at his knee and lean on the corner of his desk. “Just open it.”

The top record sleeve in the stack is red and blue and worn around the edges. Otis Redding smiles up at him and he can feel his throat get tight.

“I heard you listening to it this morning. Sorry.” Your smile is a little sad. “I know these aren’t her’s, but these are all original pressings.”

Under Otis is a sleeve in plastic, Muddy Waters’ face turned to the ceiling. He can hear the the mournful picking of ‘Louisiana Blues’ coming from a distant memory that he’s been pushing back for a few days.

“They cut me a nice deal, his kids. I told them about you loosing your collection and his son was moved.” You laugh and run your foot up his leg, a soothing motion without smothering him in a hug. Eddie is speechless. A stack of records that rivaled his moms collection. Etta and Eartha, John Lee and T-Bone. There’s a few early Bill Withers and Marvin Gaye.

“This is, uh.” His voice catches and he can’t look up from his new stack of treasures.

“I know you’ve got a lot of these already. Records and digital, but I saw the dates on them and couldn’t help myself.”

“No I’m…this is very-” Eddie clears his throat. He brings a record up to his face to sniff inside the sleeve and a tear escapes finally. “Oh fuck me, they smell the same.”

You’re behind his chair to wrap your arms around his shoulders, cheek resting on his head while he quietly disintegrates. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to make you upset.”

“I’m not upset.” He pats your hands resting on his chest before he stands to put the Muddy Waters record on. It skips and statics for a moment before catching on piano keys. He stares down at the record spinning and listens to a pressing just a few years older than him.

“This might be the most old man thing I’ve ever done.” He tries to crack a joke and thankfully it lands with you. A soft giggle behind him before you slide your arms around again to hook in front of him. You’re warm against his back, grounding. Solid and present while he gets lost in his memories.

“Did I ever tell you about the blues bar my mom worked at?”

“No, that sounds amazing.”

“Yeah,” He wraps his arms around his middle to hold over your own arms. “That’s where my dad met her.”

You make a sound of approval between his shoulder blades and nuzzle into him. “So he had good taste in music at least.”

Eddie’s turn to laugh. “Eh, sometimes.”

“So what was she doing?”

He knows you’re goading him into a better mood, something you’re very good at. You have a remarkable gift to plant new memories next to the old. Roots not full of rot, uncrowded by the same trauma, grow around the old and bring green sprouts back into old hurt. He’s sure you’d say something similar about him but right now he’s misty eyed and finding old memories new again. Rose tinted for sure, but with new color in the margins.

“Well, bartending. She knew the night manager, family friend or something, but she wanted to get into shows free so…”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fic #Eddie Munson Fluff #Eddie Munson Angst #Eddie Munson x Reader #My Fic #My Work #Professor Munson

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aohisworld · 14 days

Text

MAGNETIC PULSE! 02

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ ENHYPEN’s new co-ed group starts their first album, MANIFESTO. Aohi makes a mistake that allows Jungwon, to give her a bit of sympathy that she didn’t ask for.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ eventual poly!ot7 x added member!oc. (jungwon centric). contains. angst, a little arguing, a smooch, uhm cringe writing lol.

| : ̗̀➛ MINTIE’s NOTES: Jungwon chapter yippee yippee!! Also important announcement that my asks are open now, and I’d love to get some interactions :3 don’t be a silent reader! Reblog, comment, send an ask!!

| : ̗̀➛ WARNING! How I write ENHYPEN is not meant to portray the idols irl, this is my au and I write this for fun. contains angst and a little bit of bickering/awkward tension.

✧. ┊ Jungwon was always born to be a leader, unlike Aohi, who just followed the crowd, Jungwon was born to lead it.

When he was picked as the best candidate for ENHYPEN's leader role, he was overjoyed, of course, but a part of him also wondered if he was ready for that role.

Jungwon worked to his limit to make sure ENHYPEN was where they were now. Aohi and Xiulin... he was stumped on what to do, they were suddenly thrust upon his plate when he already had so much.

Jungwon had no idea how to lead the girls, he didn't go through I-LAND with them, nor did they meet long enough to help them....

so, he didn't.

For about a few months, that went excruciatingly slow by the way, Jungwon barely made the effort to even glance Aohi's and Xiulin's way, well, more Aohi's because he respects Xiulin as his elder sister.

At first, it was smooth sailing for Jungwon, it wasn't that hard to ignore Aohi or avoid her, but as time passed on, Jungwon didn't realize her cold attitude would sting, like being out during a snowfall and it got too cold that your hands would freeze, kind of sting.

Jungwon didn't think the glare Aohi would sometimes direct at him would bother him so much. Like, made his stomach turn kind of bother.

For one, it made him feel like he was a bad person. (he doesn't think he is, is he?)

Secondly, he hated to admit that maybe, just maybe he did deserve it, and he wasn't really living up to the leader name.

Jungwon knows Aohi and Xiulin are his group members now, hell, they're making their first album with the girls now!

As a leader, he was supposed to help the girls, especially when he needed to navigate this whole co-ed situation as well, but he didn't, and knowing that left an incredibly sour taste on the boy's tongue.

That's what brought us to Jungwon now, sitting in an empty meeting room, after a weekly... report? Status? whatever it was, had happened. The boy stared straight ahead at the table, seemingly burning a theoretical hole into the furniture.

He sat unmoving for a while, getting lost in his thoughts, you could say he got it from Sunghoon's morning spacing out routine.

It was only until a can was placed in front of his line of sight did his gaze change from the table, to the girl he was exactly thinking about.

"You stare at that spot any longer, you might've actually burnt a hole into the table."

Jungwon didn't respond, glancing up at Aohi's brown orbs, before looking back down at the can on the table. "What's the drink for?" Jungwon nudged towards the drink, as if scared to touch it.

"To drink? What else?" Aohi stated, sitting opposite of Jungwon, in which Jay sat in before her, so Aohi cringed slightly as she felt the warm seat.

Aohi seemed to magically produce another can of warm tea— Jungwon had analyzed, in front of him, opening it with one hand.

"The drink was Xiulin-unnie's." She hums, blowing inside her can to take her first sip, tasting the tea and nodding her head, outwardly approving the flavour.

"Why didn't you give it to her then?" Jungwon hesitantly took the drink off of the table. "Couldn't find her." Aohi shrugged.

Jungwon made no move to open his drink, sitting up in his chair. "Why're you here?" He asks, moving the metal can from one hand to the other, temporarily using it as a handwarmer.

Jungwon didn't seem to like the fact that Aohi was so close without any reasons to be, he had no idea why he was so alert around her either, as if two cats meeting on a territory and intimidating each other.

"Why can't I be? I'm sitting with one of my members, I don't see anything wrong with that." Aohi's eyes narrowed like that of a cat as she willingly made eye contact.

As the two cat-like members stared on, Jungwon could feel that grumbling feeling in his stomach once again as he didn't back down from the intense eye contact Aohi established.

"I didn't say anything was wrong with it, I mean that you don't really like us—"

"I like Ri-ki, so I don't think that I don't like my group members." Aohi's shrugged once again, "You look at us like we're the worst people on earth." Jungwon scoffed, already disliking Aohi's response.

"I don't know why you have to look for a reason for me to be here, I'm being nice—" Aohi grumbled, placing her drink on the table since she was an easily irritable person, and this conversation— is it still even a conversation? could end up firing her up even more.

"With a stare like that?" Jungwon raised his eyebrows, he'd never seen someone who was being nice have a stare that could probably kill.

"Gosh, why do you have to start a fight with me all of the time?!" Aohi stood from her seat, pointing at Jungwon with an accusatory finger.

"Because you have so much against my hyungs and I! You don't even know us," Jungwon stood up from his seat as well, pushing Aohi's finger away with the back of his hand. "You just decided we're not even worth being nice to!"

"Neither do you! I wasn't the first to be rude, it was the hyungs who looked at me and Xiulin-unnie like we were of no hope!" Aohi argued, her words were true, how could the young girl forget?

Xiulin-unnie had to learn everything for herself and Aohi, because Aohi was finishing her studies and had to miss most of their practices.

Aohi was only angry because she cared for her unnie, and a few months in living like that, Xiulin was already extremely exhausted, and Aohi couldn't do much to help her.

Aohi was frustrated, she only wanted the boys to help, not just Ri-ki, all of the boys.

"Well—" "I'm not done!" Jungwon was silenced by Aohi, taken aback by her sudden outburst, even if he wanted to, what Aohi said was true, they truly didn't think they could debut, not so late into ENHYPEN's career at least.

Still, how could Jungwon admit that?

"Xiulin-unnie and I needed help, and we couldn't even confide in our hyungs, much less our leader." Jungwon's throat dried at Aohi's words, not knowing how to respond to that.

In all honesty, he felt like he was slapped with a hot iron pan of truth.

"Sure, Jake-hyung barely tried to help us with our dance practices, but not before pointing out every little wrong thing from us." Aohi poked her finger to Jungwon's chest, hating the way he was silent.

It wasn't like Aohi didn't know that Jungwon was the type to lead, from just meeting him, you could already feel it. That's what makes it worse.

The girls— Aohi, needed someone to follow, because that's all she knew to do, and she hoped that there was a small chance, Jungwon, as the leader, would knock some sense into his group members and allow her and her unnie to have someone to follow.

Apparently it was too much to ask for.

"We didn't even know each other, and we just decided to hate each other... months straight, we'd barely interact, even when we started to record the album.." Aohi frowned, seeing that she'd stunned Jungwon into silence.

Aohi wasn't sure whether to continue after that, only sighing and sitting back down, taking her cup of warm tea, trying to drink the tension away.

Jungwon stayed standing up, thinking. Jungwon knows he was cruel, but he thought he was doing right, he followed his hyungs along as well.

He could remember his Heeseung-hyung telling him that the girls will not gain anything by being in ENHYPEN, that they should let it be for their own good.

Jungwon should've asked what Aohi and Xiulin's thoughts were, if they could really do it, if they were really willing. Maybe then, he could've helped them, give them a place in the group, rather than giving up on them from the start.

"...I'm sorry." Jungwon hesitated, sitting next to Aohi, rubbing the palms of his hands nervously.

"You're only apologizing because I told you—"

"You're right, but I really am sorry, I mean that from the bottom of my heart." Jungwon interrupted her, Aohi turns to Jungwon, looking at him with a skeptical look.

"I was stressed, and I know that it's not an excuse, because you and Xiulin-noona were also under a lot of pressure," Aohi didn't bother to try and intervene with Jungwon's ramblings, he seemed to have a lot to say.

"But let me try and make it up to you, and Xiulin-noona."

Aohi stayed silent for a few moments, thinking, if Jungwon was genuine, and he was serious about treating her and Xiulin like actual members, maybe...

"It's been months, Jungwon.." Aohi replied curtly, turning to the side, as if hesitant to even agree. "Then I'll make up for it for as long as you girls want."

"You—" Aohi tried to start, Jungwon shaking his head at her reply, "I will, as long as you don't look at me like that again. I'll change."

And change, Jungwon did.

Aohi was taken aback the first time he did something for her, it was an interview, their first interview as a debuted co-ed group.

Aohi sat in one of the dressing rooms, spacing out on a make-up chair as the girls' own stylist worked her magic onto Aohi's newly dyed hair.

Xiulin and Aohi were successfully debuted into the group, despite the boys' hesitance, except Ri-ki and Jungwon, who happily congratulated the two girls.

Aohi remembers how much they had to handle on the first few days, the incorporation of Dark Moon, the making of their first co-ed album, it was a mess, and not to mention they barely had any breaks.

"Aohi-ssi, your make-up is done." Her stylist spoke, ushering her behind to start working on Xiulin next. Aohi stretched her arms in front of her as she sat on the couches, next to Ri-ki.

Ri-ki instantly turned to her, phone in hand to show whatever he was currently laughing at.

While the two teens giggled over whatever was on Ri-ki's screen, Jungwon approached the couch with drinks in hand, just like Aohi did, and for some reason, the leader of ENHYPEN disliked that their youngest was shoulder to shoulder with Aohi.

Without thinking any further, Jungwon pushed the two apart, Aohi looking startled at the sudden intrusion. Aohi looked up, seeing Jungwon looking down at her.

"I got you a drink, you have to stay hydrated." Jungwon took Aohi's hand and placed the cold drink, using his palm to curl her fingers over it.

Aohi's eyebrows just furrowed, glancing at Xiulin, who only stared from the mirror of the stylist chair in shock.

"Thanks, I guess.." Aohi mumbled, placing the drink on the table in front of the couch. Ri-ki didn't seem to notice, or suspect anything as he just returned to bumping shoulders with Aohi and looking at random videos.

Jungwon seemed to bite the inside of his cheek at the unsuccessful attempt at separating the two, wait— why was he even annoyed that they were so close to each other?

"Noona, are you going to drink that?" Ri-ki points to the drink Aohi had recently placed on the table.

"Why, are you thirsty, ki-yah?" Aohi hummed, grabbing the can, wiping the top and popping it open for the youngest to drink.

Jungwon stood behind them, a bit offended as he watched Aohi place the can to Ri-ki's lips, like a big 'screw you!' from Aohi to Jungwon as she gave Ri-ki the first sip of the drink he decided to kindly get for her.

"Good?" Aohi asks Ri-ki, grinning when he nods. "That's really good grape juice." He nods, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"here, you can have it."

Jungwon could hear his heart crack as he heard that from Aohi's lips, and Aohi heard clearly.

'You aren't gaining my forgiveness that easily..' She thinks, glancing at Jungwon, a slight mischievous smile on her face.

Since then, Jungwon had been... overbearingly kind to Aohi and Xiulin, as in... even sneaking in ordered food for them late at night. Jungwon was really determined to gain Aohi's forgiveness.

Jungwon had already earned Xiulin's respect, it's just Aohi being stubborn.

"Here..." Jungwon huffed, having ran a few floors down and back up to deliver the ordered food to the girls' dorms.

Aohi could only blurt out a small thanks before closing the door in front of their leader's face, stopping him from even saying anything.

Jungwon sat in front of their door for a bit, catching his breath, letting out a sigh before turning around, despite hearing muffled voices behind the door.

"Aohi! That was rude! You know he's still a member, he's stuck with us!" Xiulin whisper-yelled from beside her, opening the door as soon as it was closed. "Sorry, won, she's just hangry, have some with us." The older girl ushered, pulling a turned Jungwon inside.

"Unnie!" Aohi gasped, somewhat stomping her foot from the door and staring up at Jungwon with a frown. "Don't be like that, we ordered enough for an extra person." Xiulin scolded.

"I could've called Ri-ki..." Aohi grumbled, turning around and stomping into the kitchen. "You're not calling the youngest down for some fried chicken, Aohi." Xiulin retorted.

Jungwon stood by the entrance awkwardly, he was the first of the boys to even be in the girls' dorms. "Don't just stand there, go!" Aohi pointed to the living room, chopsticks and plates in her other hand.

Jungwon hesitantly approached the room, looking around curiously at the new environment, before sitting next to Xiulin, on their couch.

"I'm hungry, hurry up!" Xiulin whined from the living room, the TV still turned on, they seemed to be watching a random k-drama, obviously bored but not tired.

"Eung!" Aohi replied, sitting by the table in the middle of their living room as they started to open the food they ordered. Jungwon sat back with his hands on his lap, a bit nervous.

"Loosen up, won." Xiulin looked from behind her, Aohi placing a plate and chopsticks for Jungwon to use. The two girls were silent as they placed the food out.

"Looks so good... I'm literally about to devour everything." Xiulin let out a 'psh!' sound, bumping Aohi's leg with her own and gaining a protest from Aohi.

"I will enjoy this food.." The three recited, Jungwon slowly sliding into the middle of the two girls as they started to eat.

The trio ate silently, an occasional groan or dislike for any event that went on in their k-drama. "She's so fake for going back to her ex.." Aohi spoke, looking at the TV with a furrowed brow.

"Right? Like, if you're going to go back, don't do it in front of the boy who's liked you for forever.." Xiulin scoffed, taking a sip of her cider. Jungwon silently chewed from between them, just listening in.

Jungwon stared down at his plate, swallowing, 'ah... I need some pickled radish..' Jungwon looked for the container around the table, seeing it but... it was being guarded by Aohi.

Jungwon didn't want to ask Aohi, just watching the girl place another cube into her mouth. Xiulin glanced from beside her, seeing Jungwon eye the container.

"Yah, Jungwon wants some, don't finish it all." Xiulin spoke, nudging her head towards Aohi's direction.

Jungwon felt alarmed at the sudden call-out Xiulin made, jumping in his spot, "Ah— no, it's okay!—" Jungwon used his free hand to make a no motion.

Aohi stared at Jungwon, chopsticks in her mouth, before staring back to the TV. The younger boy felt a little awkward as the noise died down between both Aohi and Xiulin.

Aohi then stared down at the container of radishes, there was only five cubes left.. and she really liked the radishes, she glances at Jungwon, who seemed to have a bit of trouble eating the last of his bites, using cider to down it.

Jungwon grabbed the last bite of the boneless bites he was eating, getting ready to chew his way to a finished plate, unknowing to Aohi's gaze at his struggling figure.

In a small moment, Aohi made the decision to pick a cube up from the container with her chopsticks, before turning to Jungwon.. "Eung.." Aohi was feeding him a cube of radish.

Jungwon stopped mid-chew to stare at her like a deer in headlights, Xiulin was too busy being immersed in her digital show to even bother seeing the live-version play out right beside her.

'Did.. did she want to feed me?' Jungwon thought, looking at the radish before looking back up.

Aohi waited with a blank look on her face as Jungwon swallowed his bite, hesitantly coming forward as he used his teeth to bite the radish, so that his lips wouldn't touch her chopsticks.

Jungwon could feel the back of his neck warm slightly, trying to finish his food.

Ever since then, it was even more awkward between Aohi and Jungwon, the leader starting to practically follow the girl around like a cat does to his owner.

Aohi guessed he wasn't that bad, more so tolerable. Aohi didn't mind Jungwon that much, just thought it was a little tiring having to be followed around.

It's been almost eight months since Jungwon promised to change, and Aohi and Jungwon seemed to be... friends? Acquaintances? All the leader knew was that Aohi didn't avoid him anymore.

Aohi was secretly appreciative of Jungwon, he had helped plenty with her and Xiulin with coordinating their first album together, MANIFESTO.

Aohi and Xiulin learnt their roles in the dance pretty quickly, thanks to Ri-ki and Jungwon. Aohi started to find her confidence in being in the group, trying to find her dynamic, trying to fit in.

Aohi thought she was ready, actually. That she was perfectly in the spot she was. That was, until their first performance of their songs.

"Get her and Sunoo off-stage, quickly! Check on her, see if she broke or injured anything!" The staff ran around frantically behind stage, trying to close the lights to cover up the incident on-stage.

It was their first performance of their song, ParadoXXX Invasion, Aohi thought she was going to nail this first performance, she really did.

Aohi lost her footing half-way into the song, tripping onto Sunoo as the two came tumbling down. The lights dimmed as their fans gasped, murmuring at the sudden absence of lights on-stage.

Sunoo held Aohi stable as he winced, feeling a sting from his lower back from where he fell.

Aohi looked at Sunoo with teary eyes, shaking her head as a worried expression washed over her features.

"Sunoo-hyung... I'm so sorry.. I'm sorry- i didn't mean—" Aoihi whispered, wrapping her palm around her mic, just in case it was still on. Aohi didn't want the crowd hearing her lose her composure.

The whole group was ushered off-stage as Aohi couldn't even hold back her tears as she suddenly burst out in worry, and honestly, in fear.

The staff members had no idea how to comfort the overwhelmed girl. Aohi felt vulnerable at this moment, she felt more like Yoon Aohi, the seventeen-year-old girl who was a little too sensitive for her own good.

Xiulin could only usher her away from the eyes of the other members, letting out soft mantras of reassurance as they walked away. Ri-ki and Jungwon looked on in worry, being by Sunoo's side as the medic on seen checked on him.

"Go check if she's okay, I'm okay—" Sunoo grabbed Jungwon's arm, looking at him with a strained smile, knowing Jungwon's conflicted thoughts behind his eyes, of staying with his hyung, or going after Aohi.

Jungwon glanced up one more time from Sunoo to a fading Aohi, through the crowds, the boy could see glimpses of Aohi's face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

In that moment, Jungwon didn't hesitate to follow after her, swerving through different staffs as his hyungs called for him.

"I'll just leave you here, okay? I'll be right back... just stay here.." Xiulin softly spoke, rubbing Aohi's shoulder for a bit, leaving to go talk with staff.

Jungwon tailed after the girls, approaching the dressing room that Xiulin left. Jungwon stood in front of the door for a bit, hesitating to knock before he did.

Thankfully, he did manage to do it, cracking the door open soon after, entering with as little noise as possible.

Aohi looked up from her make-up stained hands, up at Jungwon. Aohi sniffled as she wondered why Jungwon was there.

Jungwon could feel his heart tighten at Aohi's tear-stained face. Her expression seemed to hurt even worse than all of those glares she shot his way in the past.

Jungwon never wants to see her cry like this again, he wouldn't be able to take it if he did.

"Aohi..." Jungwon calls out softly, approaching the couch as he attempted to sit down, placing a gentle hand on her arm.

Aohi quickly pulled her hand away before Jungwon could even wrap a finger, "Wag mo ako hawakan!— please!" (Don't try to hold me, please.)

Aohi sniffled as she scooted to the side of the couch, making space between her and Jungwon. he didn't know what she was asking of him, not understanding what she said.

Instead, Jungwon sat on the other side of the couch, hoping she just wanted space. Jungwon could feel his stomach spin in worry for Aohi, the last few months, spending time with her made it that way.

Despite Aohi's firm obstacles in the start, trying to push him away, they ended up becoming somewhat close.

"Why're you even here?.." Aohi sobbed.

"I wanted to know if you're okay.." Jungwon frowned, looking at Aohi, itching to bring her into his arms, itching to comfort her.

"Since when did you care?" Aohi spat, she seemed defensive, thoughts racing in her head, she wondered, if Jungwon as the leader, would scold her for being so careless.

Aohi was stressed enough as it was. Jungwon could see that.

"I've always cared, Aohi.. ever since then..." Jungwon whispered, inching closer, freezing when Aohi flinched at his sudden movement.

"Please don't push me away," Jungwon begged. "I'm not here to berate you, or scold you—"

"I don't need your pity!" Aohi cried, a sob following her words. Jungwon held grabbed Aohi's hand as she tried to stand.

"I'm not pitying you, Aohi! I genuinely care for you!" Jungwon begeed once more, keeping Aohi in place, her movements frantic.

Aohi had to admit, Jungwon was pretty strong and she had to scold herself for thinking such things in a situation like this. Aohi tried to pull her hands away from Jungwon when she was pulled into his chest.

Aohi gasped, struggling in his hold as Jungwon held her in place, whispering 'you're okay's and 'relax' in Aohi's ears as she sobbed even more, only grabbing onto his sweatshirt as she cried her teenage heart out into Jungwon's clothes.

"You made a mistake, and that's okay.. it happens.." Jungwon softly comforted the girl in his arms, his hand reaching up to pat the girl's head.

"I just ruined the performance.. I tripped Sunoo-hyung.. I hurt him—" Aohi sobbed out, Jungwon shaking his head with a soft laugh. "Aish... Aohi, you're thinking too much, Sunoo-hyung won't hate you for that."

"It's not just that!" Aohi cried out, Jungwon leans back from his hug, looking down at Aohi, who seemed to stare up at him, her eyes puffy and nose red, Jungwon was convinced he could've been looking at a scared bunny.

"Then what is it? Hm?"

Aohi sniffled for a bit, moving away from her embrace with Jungwon, "I hyped myself up so much for this album... I was so confident, Jungwon," She whimpered, using her arm to wipe her eyes.

"I thought I would be able to do the performance flawlessly. I just embarrassed us, maybe I'm really not meant to be in enhypen, won.."

Jungwon stays quiet at her words, Jungwon is reminded of their starting months, he wonders if he and his hyungs made that mindset for Aohi. Jungwon wonders if he did, he really thought he was cruel.

"Don't say that, you didn't do anything," Jungwon wanted to change those thoughts in the poor girl's head, it was the least he could do.

"You're a hard-working person, Aohi, and you made a mistake but don't think for one second that you don't belong with us because of it."

"...You mean it, won?" Aohi whispered, looking up at the taller boy. Jungwon looked down at her once again, he felt a bit stunned at how Aohi was fine with showing this vulnerable side to her, especially when he's always been avoided by her.

"With everything I have." Jungwon replied, just as soft.

The two continued to keep eye contact with each other, getting lost in each other's gazes. It was quiet in the dressing room, except for the rustling of Jungwon's hand rubbing at Aohi's palm and his rings clinking with hers.

Neither Jungwon or Aohi made an effort to move away from each other, they didn't even bother to notice that, instead of moving away from each other, they inched closer and closer.

"Won?" Aohi whispered, her eyes fluttering softly.

"..Eung?" Jungwon asked, Aohi could feel his breath on her cheek, that's how close they were.

Aohi glanced down at his lips, Jungwon following her actions, dreading for the moment they would touch.

Another minute passes, an inch following.

It was quiet, too quiet.

In a span of a second, Aohi could feel Jungwon close the gap in between them, a soft gasp leaving her lips. His lips were soft, oh so soft.

Jungwon's eyes had fluttered close, he didn't know why he ended up closing the gap, hell, he didn't even register that he was kissing Aohi!

Aohi could've melted from just how soft Jungwon's lips were on hers, it was perfect, so perfect. Aohi wanted it to last forever, the feeling of their lips moving in sync was perfect, like a dream.

but as quickly as a dream ends, it did, Xiulin being the main culprit as she busts into the room.

Aohi and Jungwon jumped away from each other, Aohi fixing her appearance and Jungwon covering the lower half of his face.

"Noona! Are you okay?" RI-ki voiced, his worried figure approaching Aohi as she tried to compose herself.

"Yeah- Yeah, I'm..." Aohi glances at Jungwon, who's forced himself not to even think to turn to look at her. "I'm.. alright.." Aohi finishes her sentence, her voice lowering softly.

"We should get you out of here, the staff gave us the green light.." Xiulin spoke curtly, staring at Jungwon as she rubbed Aohi's shoulder.

Before Aohi could even get a word in, Ri-ki was already ushering her up, softly telling her to move. Xiulin taking over when she reaches the door.

"But, won—" Aohi tried to call for the other member, Ri-ki only blocking her sight. "Go, noona." The youngest pleaded, wanting Aohi to rest.

Aohi didn't say anything further as Xiulin pulled her outside, reaching the car with their stuff in tow, letting the younger girl enter the car first.

"Unnie-" Aohi tried to speak her mind before Xiulin could even scold her, but she was instantly silenced by the way her elder sister just sent a glance her way.

"Aohi, what were you thinking?" Xiulin spoke from her seat, leaning back into her seat.

"Unnie.. it was a mistake, I really didn't mean to trip—" Xiulin made a 'nuh uh' sound, shaking her head as she raised her hand up to stop Aohi from speaking even more.

"Not. That." Xiulin turns to her dongsaeng, a slightly annoyed look on here face. "I mean that... the— you know!" Xiulin motions to her hand, making kissing motions by touching the tips of her fingers together.

Aohi watches the action with her lips ajar, she opened her mouth to try and make a reason, an excuse, on why she did it, why she... kissed Jungwon.

Since nothing came out, she only sighed, looking off to the window, as if deep in thought. There was barely any sunlight left, the night coming to replace the sun.

"I don't know.. Unnie, believe me, I was upset and—" Xiulin clicked her tongue. "I thought you disliked our members? That's all you could ever talk about, remember?"

"I know but-" Aohi sighed, looking down at her fingers, fiddling with the rings. "Jungwon- He's different—" Xiulin suddenly puts her hands up in the air, it's like she's finally noticing the plot of a k-drama.

"Different? Because he was nice? You and I have known him for a few months, batsy!" Xiulin argued. Aohi flinches at her aggressive tone, feeling like a kicked cat on the curb.

"It's the way he's changing! Believe me, I tried to push him away, but he was persistent, and I started to change—" Xiulin huffed in her seat, she truly wonders what was going through Aohi's head.

Xiulin thought of the future of ENHYPEN as quickly as she saw the scene of Aohi and Jungwon. It would cause such an outrage, especially between newly-debuted members and how it would conspire so many rumours.

Xiulin's heart was in the right place, worrying about their careers, but she has to understand that Aohi didn't mean for the kiss to happen.

"Unnie.. you said it yourself, we're stuck with them! Is it so bad to try and change? To want to be on better terms with them?" Aohi reasoned, pleading her older member to understand.

"You call that better terms, Aohi?" Xiulin frustratingly replied. The two girls seemed to struggle with finding a middle ground. "Kissing Jungwon is worse than having something against him."

"I like him, unnie!" — "Is you liking Jungwon worth more than our careers?!"

Aohi stays silent at this, for once her stubbornness flickers out like a flame.

She thinks about the whole situation from Xiulin's eyes. She and her unnie worked to debut after being picked out of their respective groups and now that they are debuting, Aohi could ruin it.

Hell, she should be lucky it was Xiulin and.. maybe Ri-ki? who saw the kiss.. Oh gosh, what about Ri-ki? What will he do?

"I'm sorry, unnie... I didn't know what I was thinking..." Aohi whispered, deciding to back down and agree to Xiulin. Her unnie turns to her, seeing the young girl deflate into her chair with a soft sniffle.

Aohi was obviously upset, feeling dejected. Xiulin could only sigh, "You should stay away from Jungwon off-camera.. You and won will only hurt yourselves if feelings start to form..." Xiulin reaches over to rub her arm on the girl's shoulder, in attempt to comfort her.

Aohi only nods, their conversation ending as their separate manager enters the car, ready to drive them home.

MUSIC BANK DRESSING ROOM, 8:56 PM—

"Hyung." A voice calls out for him. Jungwon could only squeeze his eyes shut for a few moments. "Look, just- don't tell the others.." He let out a sigh through his nose, looking up at Ri-ki, who seemed visibly upset.

"I don't care about that, you shouldn't of done that to her." The youngest spoke. Jungwon was taken aback at the sudden hostility coming from Ri-ki.

"Ri-ki, what are you talking about?" Jungwon's eyebrows furrowed, looking appalled at the youngest's behaviour.

Ri-ki clenches his fists, biting the inside of his cheek. "You shouldn't of kissed her."

Jungwon wonders why he'd bring this up, he already knew? What does Ri-ki gain from telling him again?

"You don't think I know that? I'm saying not to mention it to the other hyungs, I'll—" Jungwon spoke, trying to pass the conversation as quickly as possible, the leader didn't want to speak about it, his mind jumbled from the big events of today.

"You're going to hurt Aohi-noona, you know that?" Ri-ki replies, and at this point, Jungwon wonders why he cares so much. Sure, their youngest and Aohi has been closest, but to be so defensive about her?

"Ri-ki, drop it please." Jungwon pleaded, Ri-ki flicking his head to the side, as if ticked off. "she doesn't deserve that, you—" Jungwon stopped Ri-ki from saying even more words, words that could hurt both of them.

"I care about Aohi as much as you do, Ri-ki!" Jungwon argued, Ri-ki biting back just as fierce. "I don't just care, Jungwon-hyung!" He yells, and Jungwon is quiet for a few moments, wondering what he meant.

"You're blowing this out of proportion, ki. You know we're just friends." And at this, Ri-ki scoffs. He felt like a little kid being hid away from things he obviously understood.

"Don't bullshit me, please, hyung." Jungwon clenches his jaw, he could feel the tension rise between them.

It was a familiar feeling, one that started to become obvious as months passed, the more both spent time with Aohi.

"You don't think I notice? The way you look at Noona like she showed you the wonders of the world," Ri-ki steps towards Jungwon, and the older boy takes a step back.

"You used to hate her, and now you kiss her like the past just didn't happen?"

"That was months ago! Aohi and I are on better terms!" Jungwon takes this as an opportunity to stand his ground with Ri-ki, he has never seen their youngest be so rebellious, or hell, angry with them.

"Still! I won't let you play with her feelings like that!"

Jungwon is angered at this, Ri-ki doesn't get to put that claim on him, not when he spent months caring for Aohi, not when he's made a habit to glance at Aohi to make sure she's okay, or always asking her if she needs any help.

Not when Jungwon spent so much time caring, not when he started to form feelings, when he started to love her.

"I'm not playing with anyone's feelings, Ri-ki!" Jungwon finally yells, like a cat defending his territory, feeling offended and intimidated.

"You don't get to accuse me of that! Aohi is just as important to me! I get my actions but I won't do it again! So, drop it!"

"No! I'm not dropping it!" Ri-ki keened.

"God, Ri-ki! Why do you care so much?!" Jungwon groaned, "I said I wouldn't do it again, what more could you want?—"

"It's because I have feelings for her!" Ri-ki reveals, his hand instantly reaching up to slap over his lips. It was so shocking that even Jungwon's eyes widened slowly at his words, not expecting to hear that fall from Ri-ki's lips.

Even Ri-ki's surprised that those words came out of his own mouth.

"I.. I like her."

The two stare at each other for a while, before Ri-ki couldn't handle his hyung's gaze, dashing out with a heavy heart, and a twisting stomach.

Jungwon seemed to grab at a table behind his back, feeling his knees weaken. His hands reached up to wipe the sweat on his face, the temperature of the room seemed to change as the fighting between the two got worse.

Jungwon repeated Ri-ki's works in his head over and over, as if it was a mantra. Ri-ki liked her, he had feelings for her.

God, what will he do?

#˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑰𝑺 𝑨𝑶𝑯𝑰!#enhypen #enhypen 8th member #enhypen added member #enhypen addition #enhypen au #enhypen eighth member #enhypen female oc #enhypen ot7 #enha x oc #poly enhypen x oc #enhypen x oc #enhypen fic #enhypen female addition #enhypen female member #enhypen extra member

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rainylana · 1 year

Text

father’s day<3

requested by @vol2eddie

You laid on Eddie’s chest, legs between his with the glow of the tv on your face while you both laid on the couch. It was date night, however your boyfriend’s mood was sour. He was hiding it well, but you knew him better than most, and you knew something was bothering him. His smiles didn’t seem as genuine. The corners of his eyes didn’t crinkle with laughter. He was putting on a show and you didn’t know why.

He petted the back of your head, smoothing your hair while the other hand rested behind his head against the arm of the couch. Tonight’s movie was The Thing. So far you hated it. You were nervous to ask him what was wrong, not wanting to irritate him. It wasn’t too difficult to push his buttons, but you also were concerned.

Nestling your face in his chest, you forced a fake yawn for effect before asking your question. “Hey, Ed?”

He hummed, brushing your hair through his fingers.

You sat up on your elbow, careful not to crush him as you reached to grab the remote on the coffee table, pausing the movie.

“What’s the matter?” Eddie lifted his arm, his eyes growing heavy.

“Are you okay?” You sat on his thighs, pushing back your hair. “You’ve not seemed like yourself tonight.”

He looked confused. “Yeah? I’m good, why?” He asked almost sounding offended.

“Well, you,” You struggled to find words. “I don’t know, you’re just quiet. You sure you’re alright? Is there something bothering you?”

“No.” He dismissed quickly, sitting up and removing you off his legs. “I’m fine.” He got up quickly and went to kitchen. You watched him get a beer out of the fridge while you bit your nails. He closed the fridge door with force, throwing the tab of the beer into the sink.

You sighed heavily. “You don’t have to be rude.”

He gave you a quick glance, pausing his movements as he gulped. “Sorry.” He took a swig of his beer. “Just..I don’t know.” He rubbed his face with his hand, breathing heavily as he placed his beer down on the counter.

“Hey,” You frowned, making your way toward him. “Eddie, what’s wrong?” You grabbed his forearms, trying to see his face. “Tell me.”

He was visibly shaking within a matter of seconds, the curtain of his curls falling down to his chest. He uncovered his face and your heart sank when you saw his eyes shining.

“Baby,” You cupped his cheek. “What’s the matter? Please, Eddie tell me what’s wrong?”

His breathing was heavy and he hiccuped as a tear feel. “Tomorrows Father’s Day.”

Your face dropped. Of course. Oh, how could you have forgotten?

“Oh, sweetheart,” You frowned, standing tall to wrap your arms around his neck. “I’m sorry.”

You could feel how tense his body was to keep from breaking down with you, yet you could feel his tears staining your shirt. “Fuck,” He whimpered. “I shouldn’t..”

“You cry all you want, Eddie.” You rubbed his back. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

You held him through his tears, his body eventually relaxing fully slack against you.

“A father isn’t just blood, Eddie,” You kissed his cheek, pulling away slightly to see his tear stricken face. “A father is a man who loves and takes care of you. Now, who does that sound like to you, huh?”

He licked his lips, sniffling as he looked at you through wet lashes. “Wayne.”

You smiled widely. “Yeah. Wayne. I’m gonna help you find a gift for him, okay? We’ll do it together.”

His eyes welled up again and he nodded, a shuttering breath being exhaled as he pulled you back in. “Love you.”

#lana’s shit post #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons

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zzzzombieboy · 10 months

Text

Leon Kennedy

Headcannons

just things that I think abt Leon

listens to Linkin Park for sure, fav song is probably no more sorrow or in the end (he likes the basic songs i’m telling u) also DEFINITELY listens to Three Days Grace, doesn’t have a fav song tho

he was obsessed with guitar hero for a little bit and he got really good at it when it came out but then stopped playing and now can’t even fc a song on easy mode

sleeps on his stomach with his face to the right side

if you like a movie he doesn’t like he will act like you’re a swine and bring it up all the time to make fun of you

doesn’t have a bed frame, sleeps on two mattresses stacked on top of each other

he is so bland and probably has like one thing on his wall, the rest of his room is bright white with stains on it

doesn’t like sour candy

never talked much in high school, probably only had like 3 friends each year

terrible hearing, absolutely awful (from all the guns he’s shot INDOORS)

used to LOVE zombie movies as a kid and obviously he is not a big fan of them anymore

loves atari games like centipede or tetris but he can’t stand playing space invader for some stupid reason

he loves a good, horrible, greasy, poorly cooked fast food burger

has so many shirts but like 3 pairs of pants

very unorganized work locker, probably stinks too

he only knows one way to tie a tie, and it’s very simple so all of the ties he wears go somewhat past his waist

used to be a little thief and stole issues of comics from the gas station and then giggle about it once he got out of the store, he always got caught though

he is so stingy about his money, the only extravagance he has is really expensive leather jackets (or the jacket that he wore in the re4 remake that was like $1000)

doesn’t fold his laundry he just jams it into his drawers

DYES HIS HAIR!!!! he dyes his hair he was born in 77 he is 46 he has to be graying at this point

gay king 👑 (i don’t CARE that he asks women out in the movies to me he is just so hungry and wants dinner so bad)

he wears his dog tags under his shirts so they don’t get damaged

he sucks so bad at driving because he missed like 8 days of drivers ed and had to retake the test like 4 times before he passed

also he didn’t have anyone to practice with so he just kinda winged it

doesn’t know how to reply to compliments so he just goes “ok 🙂”

texts with his pointer finger and not his thumbs

he’s bad at keeping secrets but not in the way that he’s an instigator, he just forgets that the person he’s talking to isn’t also in on the secret and will randomly blurt it out like common knowledge

bad at cooking, nobody ever taught him and he is really stubborn and doesn’t wanna learn

he’s an atheist but has weird religious trauma so he’s like scared that god exists but doesn’t believe in one

we all know he’s corny and says stupid shit and i think when he comes across a cookie he goes “don’t mind if i do 😏” then has a little nibble, puts it down and forgets about it

he likes german shepards

doesn’t understand modern art

likes taking personality quizzes that ask him really obscure things

ok that’s it tell me if u agree or u want a part 2 or something ok bye

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foreverdolly · 2 years

Text

baby love | dom!austin butler x shy!reader

requested by a sweet nonnie. i made it extra filthy for you.

summary: you've gained some “relationship” weight since you and austin first started dating, and you find yourself growing more and more self conscious as time goes on. austin takes his time letting you know just how beautiful he finds you.

pairings: austin butler x reader

word count: 3,678

warnings/notes: austin is a dom and absolutely worships you, established relationship, rough sex, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, overstimulation, it's cute though i swear. also wanted to quickly let you all know that you are beautiful no matter what size you are. so this goes out to my curvy/skinny-chubby babes. as someone that has been recovering from an ED for four years, my inbox is always open. it was extremely hard to watch my body change as i got healthy, so this one really hit home for me while writing it. much love.

masterlist | requests are currently open for business !

“I’m being serious, Austin.” You called out to him from the bathroom, tossing the bath towel onto the countertop so that you could get a better look at your figure. Whoever says that it was healthy for females to gain relationship weight when they feel happy and stable is an asshole. An absolute dick. Just six months ago you had been in the best shape of your life. You had been attending hot yoga three times a week and even started going to a personal trainer. You were positive that your taught body and trim waistline was one of the things that originally attracted Austin to you. You weren’t a celebrity. Far from it- you were just an artist who had been blessed enough to make it semi-big in California just a few years before the two of you met through mutual friends.

Sure, you were talented and absolutely hilarious, but so were a hell of a lot of other girls that would jump at the chance to date your boyfriend. Any time you brought up diets or started messaging your old gym buddies, Austin was quick to dismiss it. “You don’t need it.” or your personal favorite, “You’ve never been healthier, baby.” You grabbed at your stomach, grimacing as you realized just how much you must have gained. Twenty pounds? No. . . more like thirty or forty, if you were being honest with yourself. You had a scale somewhere in your shared apartment, but you were too scared to step on it. You dealt with body image issues all throughout high school, and you absolutely refused to go through anything similar again.

“You’re gorgeous, now come out here. I’m going to eat all the popcorn without you.” You grumbled under your breath as you shrugged on your thin white tank top and an oversized pair of his boxers, practically throwing the bathroom door open. He seemed taken aback by your sudden change in mood, noticing the way you were glaring so opening at him. “You go ahead and do that. I obviously don’t need anything else to eat today.” He gave you a once over, taking in your wet hair and sour disposition. Maybe he hadn’t thought that you were really this sad about it, because he was quick to deposit the large snack bowl onto the bedside table along with the remote control. He gave the spot beside him on the bed an eager pat, shooting you a small smile. You weren’t budging from your spot though. Seeing yourself in the mirror just a few seconds ago had shattered just about every bit of self confidence you had left. He let out a small sigh, leaning back against the headboard for a couple of seconds before leaning forward on the bed, moving his finger in a ‘come hither’ motion. You must have been an easy one to crack because you found yourself shuffling over to the bed. The second that you were close enough to him he pounced, dragging you onto the mattress with an ease that still shocked you.

“Do you want me to die of heart failure from eating so much butter by myself? Cause’ I’ll do it. I’ll eat that entire bowl and then make sure to write you out of my will.” Your lips twitched upwards into a small smile for a second, Austin watching you with a wide grin as he waited for your mood to change. It always did whenever you were on this sort of subject. He’d do whatever he could to assure you that you were beautiful, and then find some way to cheer you up- only this time it wasn’t working. Your bottom lip began to quiver, your eyes filling with tears. “Oh. . . Oh, my poor baby.” He cooed, wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling you into his lap. You moved your legs to straddle him, sniffling softly against his neck as you tried to keep the tears to a minimum. They just kept coming though.

“I’m not pretty anymore. . . what if-” you swallowed back a loud sob, whimpering softly before you were finally able to get the rest of the words out. “W-What if you leave me?” Austin was peppering the side of your wet head with kisses. He hated seeing you upset in any way. It made his chest ache and his own anxiety act up.

How had he not seen this before? How could he not tell how serious this was to you? He had always tried to brush it off with humor and measly compliments, but never took the time to really assure you that he wasn’t ever going anywhere. An immense guilt rushed over him, so sudden and heavy that his arms began to quiver as they squeezed you even tighter. “Angel,” He mumbled against your wet hair. “You’re the light of my life. I loved you when you were counting calories, and I love you now. . . but baby, you’re beautiful like this. I know it probably won’t mean anything coming from me, but I truly don’t think you’ve ever looked this healthy before.” You pulled back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand before you motioned to your stomach exasperatedly.

He let out a humorless smile, pulling up your shirt so that he could place one of his large, warm hands against your skin. “You’re soft, and cute, and way better to cuddle. I’m a skeleton, and I used to be able to feel our bones clattering together.” This made you laugh. Your shoulders shook with it, your adorable nose scrunching up in that delectable way that he loved so much. “When I look at you I see love. I see a potential family- I see forever. I don’t see anything undesirable in the slightest, alright? I promise you. Sometimes I’m scared that you’re going to leave me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to wrap your brain around where he could have gotten that crazy idea.

“I drool when I sleep, we have to get all of my pants tailored because my legs are freakishly long, i’m lactose intolerant and you love cheese,” God, he knew you so well. “I smack my gum, I drive too fast and scare the shit out of you most of the time, and I jump and try to shield my eyes when you force me to watch horror movies.” Your jaw dropped and you couldn’t help but throw your arms up in the air in disbelief.

“But I love all those things. You’re adorable.” Austin gave you a look, and you instantly felt like an idiot.

“Oh. . .” You licked your lips, moving to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Oh.” Sure, you weren’t everybody's cup of tea, but neither was he. You happened to be his favorite flavor though. People instantly saw him as this glamorous celebrity and wanted to be with him, all without knowing what he was like behind doors. Austin always thought you were beautiful. Whether your hair was frizzy because of the weather, or you had a stress pimple on your forehead- he adored you. Absolutely and totally. Everybody’s weight fluctuates, and so what?

His fingers began to lazily rub your hips through the cotton boxers, flashing you a lazy smile. “Yeah- ‘oh’ is right.” His voice had lowered an octave, his eyes suddenly locked on you and dripping with an unspoken suggestion.

You were always in a state of awe whenever you were around him. He always went out of his way to shower you with romantic gestures. You loved him with a ferocity that often destroyed other adult’s lives. It frightened you sometimes. It was as though Austin had possessed you, body and soul. He had hollowed out a place for himself deep inside your chest and made a home there.

You loved it especially when his blue eyes became lidded, his pale lashes catching the light like spun gold. It was often impossible to keep your hands off of him, so you never did. You didn’t fight those urges and neither did Austin. You two were constantly brushing against one another, even if it was just a chaste kiss or a quick brush of the hand- just like he was doing right now. He was taking his time with you, rubbing his thumb against your hips, slowly making his way upwards towards your chest. He loved your tits; told you all the time. Even as the months passed by, you could still see the excitement flash in his eyes whenever you were laid bare in front of him. Almost as though he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were letting him touch you in such a debased way. He feasted upon your flesh hungrily whenever you let him, which was thankfully quite often.

You knew what he wanted the second those lashes began to flutter down, his eyes practically pinning you down. You still found it hard to breathe when he looked at you like that. You were still seated on his lap, and ever so slowly you began putting more of your weight on him, feeling that he was already hard. Ever so slowly you lifted back up, eyes flickering down so that you could get a good look at him. He had deviously thrown on the gray pair of sweatpants that he knew that you loved so much. It was probably because you could see his cock so well through them, even beneath all of the layers. “This is all you.” He mumbled under his breath, tilting his head to the side slightly as he watched you. He was never satisfied as far as you were concerned. He wished, some days, that he could somehow be absorbed into you- to claw his way under your skin. He loved you so much that it was maddening.

“Touch it,” His voice shook as he felt your dainty fingers brush up his thighs. “It’s yours.” You were tentative with your touches at first, almost hesitant. You felt better than you did ten minutes ago, but the self confidence issues were still there. You knew that you weren’t unattractive. You had a gorgeous face and a bright smile that lit up your eyes. Men still turned their heads to look at you when you walked down the street, and just yesterday a kid that must have still been in college tried to ask you for your number. That wasn’t the point though, because deep down there was a part of you that felt as though you weren’t worthy. Austin Butler was a Greek god of a man, and had a heart of gold.

Even after the endless laughs, the long nights spent talking, and the days spent curled up in each other’s arms, you still felt like at any moment he might walk out the door. You knew it was just a little extra baby fat, but it didn’t stop you from overthinking. Austin noticed your hesitance. He saw the conflict brewing in your eyes, like heavy clouds gathering just before a storm. He freed one of his hands from their spot on your soft skin, taking your hand in his and pressing it against himself. “Only you,” He placed a wet kiss to the underside of your jaw. “Always you.” And you melted. How could you not? Because he was right. No one could make him laugh as hard as you could. No one knew him- all of him- quite like you did, and you were certain that they never would. Nobody had ever taken the time to truly understand who Austin was, inside and out.

You were a balm to soothe the ache. You fulfilled him. Completed him.

He pressed his lips against the side of your head, his hand moving from the underside of your rips to your back as you began to put more pressure against him. You continued rubbing him through his pants, your fingers feeling along each divot and ridge of his length. The blonde let you know just how much he appreciated your touch, his low moans vibrating in his chest. “This tank top is killing me.” He mumbled, pulling back so that he could look down at you. It was an old tank top that you refused to wear in public anymore. Over time it had worn down to the point of practically being threadbare. It hadn’t been your intention to get him worked up like this, but it was certainly a plus.

He could see your entire chest through the white fabric. He ran his pointer finger over one of your nipples, smiling as he watched it reactively harden into a small peak. He switched over to the other side, his blue eyes flickering up to meet your eyes. He knew that eye contact during times like this did something to you. He’d be carrying out the dirtiest, most lewd acts, all while his lips are upturned into a smug little smile; eyes bright blue and boring into yours. You let out a small gasp, and that smile of his widened into a grin. “You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” You moved your hand away from his front, instead opting to work him up by pressing your core against him. You slowly began rocking your hips back and forth, careful not to put too much pressure.

You could be quite the tease when you wanted to be. Right now you wanted to work him up into a damn near frenzy. He’d be rougher with you that way.

“Yeah?” You questioned breathlessly, and his eyes did that thing. You watched in real time as his pupils began to dilate. “Yeah.” He agreed, nodding his head as he cupped your breasts in his large hand. He gave it a squeeze, rolling your pebbled nipple between his fingers tightly, nearly to the point of pain. Your hips jerked forward as you let out a hiss. His eyes widened at the added pressure to the friction, a breathy groan escaping his lips. “You wanna know something?” His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips, gathering up the fabric of your tank top so that he could finally feel your bare skin. “You may think that you look big, but look at how tiny you are compared to me. Hmm?” His hand slid up from your sternum to your throat, your breath getting caught there. He was over six feet tall, and his hand was the size of your head. No matter how big you might have gotten, the man was a giant compared to your stature. He added pressure to his thumb, feeling your pulse as he cut off a bit of the blood flow. Your eyes flickered open, needing to see his face as he moved his free hand down to your hip, grinding your own hips against him now. You didn’t stop him. You couldn’t tease him anymore. You’d take anything he gave you.

His eyes were practically rolling back in his head at the mere look on your face. “Keep looking at me with those big eyes like that and I might cum just from this.” The friction felt good, his length sliding along your core, stimulating you- but it wasn’t enough. You needed more. “Please.” You choked out, starting to get light headed. He tightened his hold on your throat to the point that you were beginning to see stars. He continued dragging your hips back and forth against him, moving his own hips languidly. “You’re such a greedy little thing, huh?” You were, you were, you were. Your lips parted, your head starting to tilt back so that you could stare at the ceiling. You needed something to look at that wasn’t him- because sometimes his gaze got to be too much. When he looked at you like that- like you were the only thing in the world that mattered- you came undone too quickly. “Do you feel how beautiful I think you are?” You did. He was as hard as stone beneath you. The second you nodded he had you pushed down, your back against the mattress and the side of your face pressed against your white duvet. His hand slowly moved up higher on your throat until his fingers pressed against your lips, pulling the soft skin down until they could slip into the warmth of your mouth. You accepted them gladly, your tongue gently lapping against the saltiness of his skin.

Ever so slowly he removed his hand from your throat, and you took deep gulps of air, your limbs already trembling, your core wet and aching for him.

He was going to fuck you now. He couldn’t wait any longer. He slipped his shirt off in a second flat, tossing it down on the ground next to the bed somewhere. His pants came off next, and you followed suit, kicking the boxers off as fast as you could. You were a shaky, needy mess. You weren’t quite sure how he always managed to work you up like this, but he did. You started to take off your tank top as well, but he stopped you. “Leave it.” And so you did. Austin slipped into you like he was possessed, giving you absolutely no time to adjust. You cried out, squeezing your eyes tightly shut as he began fucking into you, starting at a near brutal pace. He used one hand to support himself against the bed, and the other went straight to the tank top, gathering it up his fist before pulling it upwards, keeping his hand firmly planted against your sternum. He watched your tits bounce as he fucked you, sucking in deep breaths as he listened to your whimpers and cries.

You loved being able to look at him like this. His expressions were art. He’d suck his bottom lip into his mouth, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he watched you intently. His eyes were all over you. Your face, your tits, and then down to where the two of you connected. He had an odd fascination with watching himself fuck you. He loved it. Thought it was fucking adorable.

It felt good- so good like this- but you wanted more. You wanted to feel him deeper. “B-Behind.” You could barely speak. You found it hard to form words, but he understood. He nodded, panting hard as he pulled out of you. You started to sit up, but he grabbed your hips like you weighed nothing, flipping you over into your stomach. Your ass was in the air in a second, him using his knees to nudge your legs apart so that he could fit himself between them. “You’re the one that got me this worked up,” His voice was low, almost guttural as he spoke to you. He slipped inside of you a little slower this time, speaking through clenched teeth. “So you’re going to be a good girl and take it.”

And you could feel every inch of him.

Every. Single. Inch.

He fucked you at the same relentless pace. He was hitting all of the right places from this angle, his hips slapping against your ass. You couldn’t help but scream into the blanket, the sound coming out muffled. He must not have liked that, because he gripped you by the hair, wrapping it around his wrist and yanking your head up. “I want to hear.” And so you let him hear.

You almost couldn’t take it- he was practically attacking you at this point, his hips snapping forward, his moans loud and unabashed as he watched your skin slapping against his. He gave your hair another yank, pain tearing through your scalp but it felt good. Your walls clamped down around him, causing him to let out a low cry of his own. His free hand moved from your hip to slide along your stomach, searching for your core. “Don’t. Don’t.” You tried to shake your head, knowing that any extra stimulation would be too much, but of course he did it anyway.

Austin thought you looked pretty all the time, but you were the most irresistible when you were squirming beneath him.

His fingers pressed against your clit, rubbing you in tight circles. After months of nonstop exploration, he knew exactly how to touch you. He knew just how to work you up, and so he did. You couldn’t keep yourself from cumming. Couldn’t stop it.

“God damn, baby.” He groaned from above you, his hips snapping into your fluttering core. You were crying now, and you weren’t sure if it was because your hair was being pulled or if the pleasure was just too much. It was probably both.

Austin rode your quivering form through your orgasm, working you to the point of overstimulation. You were no longer just fluttering around him but damn near spasming, and that was when he couldn’t hold his own release off anymore. He released your hair, his large hand pressing your face into the blankets as he pumped into you. “Fuck.” He spat out, panting hard as he filled you to the brim. Only after he was sure that he had fucked every last drop into you did he slowly pull out.

He was instantly pulling you against him. He pet your hair as he began to kiss every inch of your face. “You did so good, baby.” He cooed, nuzzling his nose into your now partially dry hair. He breathed you in, eyes fluttering shut as he enjoyed the after-sex bliss. “I love you so much.” You knew that he did. You could feel the love radiating off of him and into you. It was such a warm feeling. “My beautiful baby.”

The two of you spent the rest of the night curled up in bed, watching shitty Kung-Fu movies and laughing your asses off at the criminally bad special effects.

Oh- and you two split the popcorn. With extra butter and salt. Just the way the two of you liked it.

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