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theitgirlnetwork · 10 months

Text

Better

Ch. 12: Welcome to the Shit Show Baby

Note: ...Heyyy...how ya'll doin? I know it's been a minute, I apologize. I hope this chapter makes up for the wait. I want to address the fact that this story is not over, I was worried my absence would give that impression, but there's still a lot that still needs to happen lol. As always, I'm thankful for all of the love and support. You guys are so sweet and make writing even more fun. Speaking of ya'll, not you guys saying yes on her behalf, damn, it's been 3 months, lol. Next chapter should be out at some point this weekend, meanwhile I hope ya'll enjoy <3 (also keep an eye out this weekend bc I'll be announcing new characters I'm gonna write for along with some sneak peaks, spoiler, one of them is my return to JJ.)

Warnings: Sexual content, explicit content, MDNI (FR FR don't make this shit weird)

Charlotte's Wedding Dress That's Not Really a Wedding Dress:

Charlotte's Hair and Veil:

Lip Being Hot in His Suit:

The Flowers :') :

Charlotte’s mouth opens and closes a couple times, no words making it out. She stares at her boyfriend, waiting for him to crack a smile, or say, ‘m’just fuckin’ kiddin’ and pull off to drive them home. Minutes pass as she watches the clock on the car tick, the changing numbers taunt her as she tries to find her words. Unfortunately, all she lets out is a breathy laugh.

“Marryin’ me is funny?” Lip asks, cocking his head back to observe her. Charlotte places a hand on her rapidly rising and falling chest.

“Not really, but I’m trying to see if you’re being funny.”

“M’fuckin’ serious.” he deadpans.

“But…3 months, Phillip.”

He shrugs, pressing another kiss to her hand. “Good enough for me. You?”

“I…” she’s shocked by the thought that crosses her mind. Good enough for me too. “But you’re not even down on one knee. And you’re asking me in front of your ex's house or party or whatever..” Charlotte pouts.

Lip’s eyes widen at that, glancing back toward the house because, well, that shit is true. “Yikes.” he chuckles at himself. “Yeah that’s pretty fucked up.”

“Only a little.”

“If I was on one knee, and we weren’t here, would you say yes? I don’t have a nice ring, but that’ll be the first thing I’d get you-” He rambles for a moment, stopping at the sight in front of him. Charlotte’s laying her head on the headrest, big brown eyes still shining with tears, staring at him dreamily with an uneasy smile on her face. His heart felt like it good fuckin’ bust out of his chest. He’d had people look at him before. With lust, hate, even love, but the way she was looking at him right now, he could finally see what Monica saw. Like he’d hung the moon and stars. He would. If she’d keep looking at him like that. But right now, he’d settle for getting her pretty voice to give him a yes. Lip turns off the car light and puts the car into drive, speeding down the road, ignoring her questions of ‘where are we going?’ ‘What just happened?’ his leg that isn’t controlling the pedals jumping up and down as he anxiously weaves them through traffic. He drives to the only grocery store he thinks will be open and hops out of the car, running in and locking the car.

Charlotte sits in the passenger seat confused as ever. She feels high. This is crazy. She’s never done anything like this before. And when would she? Why would she? She’s 19. Won’t be 20 for another week. She’s known Phillip for 3 months. That’s how long she talked to her ex before becoming his girlfriend. Her parents don’t even know him yet. How could she agree to this?

But, how could she say no? She loves him. She’s known that almost since meeting him. She loves being around him, feeling him brings her comfort, happiness. Watching his smile reach his beautiful blue eyes makes her feel like she’d won some kind of reward. She wants to be his family. Forever. She…she wants to marry him. She guesses that nothing else fucking matters.

He comes running back with something in his hands. Charlotte squints as she tries to lean closer to the window to see. The back seat door swings open and an out of breath Lip places something inside. “Don’t turn around.”

“Wha-why? What’d you get?”

“Just-” he closes the door, getting into the driver’s side. “Listen, alright? It’ll be worth it. Trust me.”

She does.

It’s about 3 am when the car rolls to a stop again. Somehow, Charlotte had managed to fall asleep, cocked back in the seat with her head against the window, Lip’s hand on her thigh covered by both of her hands. As he pulls to a stop he squeezes her a little, gently jostling her awake. “Hi, baby,” he says softly. “We’re here.”

She yawns, arching her back a little as she stretches, wrapping Lip’s suit jacket tighter around herself. “Where’s here?” she says groggily.

“You’ll see, c’mon, sweetheart.”

The couple gets out of the car, and Lip guides a staggering Charlotte to their destination. As they near it, he reaches over, guiding her head down, using her hair to cover her face. “Uh, try not to look up, bunny, hide your face.”

Charlotte shuffles her feet, following his instructions with a whine. “Aww, Phillip, are we doing something illegal?”

“Uh…no.”

“That means yes.” she huffs. She stares down at the ground as she hears the sound of clanking. She knows he’s picking some kind of lock. The metal clanks to the ground and Lip continues to guide her.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart, imma find the lights.” He says, voice getting further. “Don’t hurt yourself, just stay there ‘til m’back.”

The sounds of water starting to flow and fans blowing begin as the room turns light behind her eyelids. Charlotte feels his large, strong hands smooth their way down her arms before grabbing her hands. “Can I open now?” she asks gently.

“Yeah, baby you can open.”

Charlotte opens her eyes to see that they’re in a lit room with a glass ceiling. Beautiful plants surrounding them all over, flowers, trees, the works. Fountains are spaced out among the plants, mimicking nature, water trickling from them. Lights sparkle as they hang from the ceiling and in front of her is what she could only believe is the love of her life, holding a bouquet of flowers, trying to kick the little sign that said ‘Sweet 16’ that he’d plucked off behind him. “Where are we?”

“It’s uh, the Garfield Park Conservatory. I’d read about it before, and I knew I wanted to take you here…but they’re obviously closed right now. And I didn’t want people in our fucking business. And uh…pickin’ locks is free.” he jokes, letting out a wet chuckle.

“You know when we’re married you’re gonna have to slow down on doing things that’ll get you arrested.” She manages something between a laugh and a sob. Charlotte already knows she must look insane with the amount she’s cried in the past few hours. She takes one of her hands back trying to wipe her face and comb her fingers through her hair.

“You look beautiful, Charlotte.” Lip says, commanding her full attention with the intensity in his eyes. “And I love you, more than I’ve ever managed to love anyone or anything. I really, really didn’t think I was capable of feeling like this. Or having someone as good as you. And I’m gonna fuck it up, like all the time. But m’askin’ you to marry me anyway.”

“Yes.” she whispers, not even getting a second to finish before he’s dropping her flowers and snatching her into his arms. She cups his face and closes the distance between them and meets him in an intense kiss. “I love you.” she smiles against his lips.

“Love you.” He says between pecks. When they finally give each other some air, Lip turns her and starts guiding her to the door, grabbing her flowers on the way, tickling her and whispering jokes in her ear as they go. “Alright, you agreed, that shit is binding. I gotta get you to the courthouse before you change your mind.”

Judge Hanes is very well acquainted with the Gallagher family. He’s overseen many of their legal proceedings in both juvenile and adult court. And once, Frank Gallagher had pissed on his brand new Porsche after he’d awarded the man’s opponent restitution. So to say he was aggravated to find the eldest Gallagher boy in front of the courthouse, asleep on a bench with a young lady under his arm, is an understatement. He stops in front of the pair with a heavy sigh and an already forming headache. “Phillip Gallagher.”

The young man opens his eyes, squinting before his lips spread into a smug smile. “Mornin’ Keith.”

“It’s Judge Hanes to you, boy.”

The girl next to him stirs awake, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. “Good morning, Judge Hanes. Nice to meet you. I’m Charlotte.” She looks about his middle-daughter’s age, pretty, clean-cut. He couldn’t imagine why she was here with Lip Gallagher.

“Nice to meet you too, dear. What’s got you at this old courthouse this early? Child support enforcement?” He cuts his eyes back to Lip. “A protective order?”

“No, I feel perfectly safe, with my fiancé, actually.” The blond snarks, pulling the girl to him and kissing her temple. “We came to get married. Looks like you’re gonna marry us.”

Well he’ll be damned. Keith Hanes never thought he’d see the day. He almost believes this is some kind of grift. A scam he’s running on this poor girl. But from the look in Gallagher’s eyes, even Keith could see this was legit. He almost feels bad for what he has to tell them. “No can do.”

“What?” Charlotte looks to Lip.

“Why the fuck not? I mean it-isn’t it like your civic duty or some shit?”

Keith cocks his head challenging Lip's tone. “Thought you were supposed to be the smart one Gallagher.”

“Yeah, well, I’m more into the sciences, so I haven’t taken much time to learn the inner workings of your crooked ass system-”

“Phillip, please.” Charlotte interjects, placing her hand on his chest. Keith is surprised to see that it actually calms the boy, making him intertwine their fingers and quieting down. “Sir, we really wanna get married. We came all of the way here, and we love each other so much, it’s really important to us. Please.”

Keith sighs, looking down at a sweet little pout that reminded him so much of his own children. “I really am sorry kids. Courthouse is closed today, only doing jury trials because the clerks are rotating. No peace orders, divorce hearings or marriages. I can write you two up a certificate myself, but beyond that, I suggest you try a church and hope they’re willing to do it today.”

He watches as the couple looks at each other somberly. Charlotte rests her cheek on Lip’s shoulder, disappointment evident on their faces. Keith watches them share their disappointment and notices how they comfort each other. The girl smoothing her hand up and down his arm, the boy murmuring against the crown of her head, ‘if not today, then tomorrow.’ This isn’t the Lip Gallagher who’s been in and out of his courthouse. He’d absently thought that it had been a while since he’d been in trouble and now he could see why. He could applaud him for allowing love to turn his life around.

“I am about to be very kind this morning, please do not make me regret it.” Keith unlocks the doors and looks back at the pair. “Don’t tell your siblings I did this, I know your brood likes to marry every other week.”

“Sure won’t, sir.”

“And don’t screw this up, pretty young ladies like this don’t fall out of the sky.”

“Yeah we don’t.” Charlotte jokes, pushing Lip with her hip, his only response being rolling his eyes and dragging her to him.

“Alright alright, follow me.”

And Charlotte plans to, she really does. But for some reason, when Judge Hanes and Lip go to move, her feet remain planted on the cobblestone steps of the courthouse, her lack of movement pulling Lip to a stop by their intertwined fingers. “Babe?”

The woman breathes deeply as she looks up the steps. Being with Lip means a lot of things. Fun, passion, anger, joy, adventure, risk, love and family. How could they do this without their family? “Your Honorableness-” she begins.

Judge Hanes shares a glance with Lip who shakes his head, encouraging him to keep quiet.

“If we came back in a couple of hours with our family, would you still be here? I…we need them. Please?”

Well..Keith didn’t feel like watching his grandson lose his soccer game again anyway. “Four hours to get your…clan together. Then I’m going home.”

“Yay! Thank you!” She chirps, bouncing on her feet a little before throwing her arms around the older man, beaming at him before running down the steps back to the car. Lip places his hands in his pockets, watching her run excitedly with a soft smile on his face.

He tenses when he feels a heavy arm over his shoulders, a rough hand patting his arm. “Prove me wrong, Mr. Gallagher.” Judge Hanes says. “This may be something good. Try not to fuck it up.”

“I uh, I won’t.”

“Good morning Liam.” Charlotte hums, smoothing her hand over the little boy’s cheek. “Guess what?”

“Lottie!” he coos as she lifts him out of his toddler bed into her arms. He giggles as she bounces him on her hip. She and Lip had rushed back to the Gallagher house, thrumming with energy. Everyone would have to get on board for this wedding quickly because of the time crunch and they decided to make it feel as ceremonial as possible with the circumstances. Lip changed out of the suit he was wearing into the one he’d worn at one of Fiona’s attempts at marriage. Charlotte kept the bouquet he’d offered her in the car and quietly snuck into Kev and V’s house, rifling through her bags and producing a white dress she’d brought. It wasn’t a wedding dress but it’d do.

In the interest of time and not getting their idea immediately shot down, they decided to start collecting the younger Gallagher siblings first. “We’ve got a big surprise.” she mumbles against his cheek, kissing it over and over as she walks through the hall. She bumps into Lip who catches her by the waist, leaning down, blowing a raspberry into Liam’s other cheek.

“You ready?”

Charlotte nods and Lip knocks on Debbie’s bedroom door before opening it. The redheaded girl is splayed out on her bed, blankets half kicked off, snoring lightly. Lip eases into the room, sitting on the bed next to her, shaking her softly. “Hey, Debs.”

“Hm.” she rolls a little, squinting up at him. “What? What time is it?”

“Uh, it’s about 8.”

“And why are you bothering me?” She groans, kicking her feet at his stomach.

“Deb’s watch it, don’t get it dirty.” Lip says, catching her foot.

The younger girl frowns, opening her eyes fully and taking in her brother’s appearance. “Why the hell are you wearing that?” When he laughs and looks behind him she follows his gaze to the doorway. “Charlotte, you look so pretty! Can I borrow that dress?”

“Sure, Debbie.” the woman smiles, coming into the room to join them. “But right now, we need to ask you a question. How would you feel about getting another sister?”

“Damn it, Frank knocked someone up?”

“No, jesus, Debs, m’gonna marry Charlotte. Today. And we want you to be in it.”

Debbie all but shoves Lip out of the way, hugging Charlotte tightly before grabbing the hand that isn’t holding Liam. “Help me pick out a dress?”

Carl was less enthused by the whole idea. Dangling the concept of Charlotte being his sister was less appealing to him and he ultimately refused to come until Lip promised him some illegal fireworks that he hadn’t been able to score on his own.

Ian and Mickey had been the most fun to tell. Lip barged into their room, earning a groan from Ian and a loud grumble of ‘what the fuck?’ from Mickey. The couple stared at Lip and Charlotte, taking in their attire.

“What the fuck do you two idiots have on?” Mickey asks, wiping his face. He locks eyes with the woman, raising his eyebrows for a moment before his lips spread into a wide smile that matches her own. “Oh, shit! C’mere you crazy bitch.” He’s out of the bed and picking her up, hoisting her over his shoulder as she squeals and giggles. “What the hell kind of pussy have you been puttin’ on him?”

“Shit.” Ian echoes, pulling his brother into a tight hug. “Congratulations man, seriously. When…?”

“Today, get your suit on, motherfucker.”

“Shit!” Ian beams, clapping a hand on Lip’s back.

“You see this shit, Red?” Mickey calls back to his boyfriend. “The bar is fuckin’ high, even your shithead brother is puttin’ a ring on it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ian snorts, his arm still around Lip’s neck, keeping him close. “M’workin’ on it.”

“My ass.”

The group is so wrapped in their celebration they don’t even hear a tired Fiona make her way into the doorway. Sleep on her face, still clad in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear, she stands prepared to curse them from waking her when she’d just worked the night shift. The brunette’s eyes widen as she takes in the scene in front of her. Charlotte, wearing a white dress, tossed over Mickey’s shoulder. Lip is wearing his best suit (he only has two that he rotates for weddings, jobs and funerals), lighting a blunt, the good shit they keep for graduations and when Monica leaves. Ian buttoning his dress shirt. Fuck. She thinks, crossing her arms. “Pregnant?”

Lip straightens, blunt still hanging from his mouth. “No.”

“And you’re sure?” she asks. “Both of you?”

“Yes.” Charlotte responds, offering Fiona a hesitant smile as Mickey puts her down. She goes over to Lip, slipping her hand into his. “So sure.”

Fiona rolls her eyes to the ceiling, whispering, ‘fuck’ under her breath before leaving the room. Lip clenches his jaw, looking away, taking a deep drag of the blunt as Charlotte rubs his arm, and Ian pats his back. He and Fiona fight like cats and dogs, but she’s his big sister. She’s supported him through everything, he’d thought she’d support him through this.

Moments later Fiona returns, tugging a blue dress down her legs and holding something white in her hands. She silently makes her way over to Charlotte, lifting what Lip and Ian recognized as her veil she never fully got to use, clipping it to the top of Charlotte’s head. “There. Now, you look like a bride. A sexy Vegas bride, but a bride. And I better be a bridesmaid.” Lip tugs his sister into a hug, making her stumble, rubbing her back.

“Um, thanks.” he says into her shoulder.

She sniffs in response, pushing him off. “Yeah, yeah, let me hit that blunt, this is gonna be a shit show.”

Once everyone’s dressed, the group makes their way next door, Lip and Charlotte stand in front of the door, ringing the bell because she did have her keys, the only thing in her hands being the flowers he’d given her.

“Yeah, I’m comin’!” Kev yells through the door, pushing it open and eyes bulging at the sight in front of him. “Holy shit. V!”

“What?” she calls from further in the house. “Yelling so early the damn morning. What’s the fucking problem-holy shit.”

V eyes her cousin, staring her down. Charlotte straightens, her stance steady but her face withering a little under V’s gaze. Everyone else watches as the two women share a silent conversation, the elder, putting her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised, the younger squeezing her boyfriend…fiance’s hand as she maintains eye contact. V cocks her head to the side expectantly turning to go back in the house and Charlotte follows, releasing Lip’s hand.

The two women climb the steps up to Kev and V’s room and Charlotte quietly gestures for Lip not to follow. When they get in the room, V pulls her pajama shirt off, grabbing a pink dress off of a hanger. “This is what you wanna do?”

“Yes. I love him.” Charlotte says, sitting on the bed.

“It’s gonna be really hard, Lottie. You know that?”

“I know.”

V turns and Charlotte zips her dress for her. “And your parents?”

Charlotte bites her lip at that. She’s startled to realize that she hadn’t even considered them being there. They weren’t who she thought of when she said they needed to go get family. She loves them, but this, the life she made here, has nothing to do with them. They’d ruin it. “It’s not about them. But you’re here.”

“Hell yeah, I am.” V says kissing her little cousin’s cheek. “Well, if we’re gonna do this, you need to complete the outfit.” She reaches in her drawer, producing her lacey, white garter, tossing it to Charlotte.

“Um…I love you…and thanks, but...when was the last time you washed this and has it been in Kev's mouth?”

When the group was finally complete, they head out of the house, trying to figure out how to stuff everyone into Kev’s car without fucking up their dress clothes. As they stuffed Carl, Debbie and Liam into the back, everyone else was arguing about who should have to squeeze into the middle.

“Well, I’m literally the bride, so-”

“This is my fucking car!”

“Princess doesn’t even need a seat, she’s used to bein’ in fuckhead’s lap.”

As they fuss over the spots, Frank stumbles his way down the street, seeing his family decked out in dress clothes he makes his way over, plucking the blunt out of Ian’s hand. “Good morning family. Who died?”

“Lip and Charlotte are getting married, Daddy!” Debbie calls from inside of the car.

Frank gasps dramatically, clutching his chest before clapping a hand onto the back of Lip’s neck, only to have it slapped off. “My eldest son! Why didn’t you say anything? Look how I’m dressed! Charlotte, looking vivacious as ever.”

Lip’s mouth curl’s in disgust as he tugs her behind him. “You’re not invited, Frank.”

“What? I’m your father. How could you not have me at your first wedding?” Frank slurs, “Besides, I think you’ll regret not inviting Daddy when you see the gift he got you.”

“How the hell does he have a gift, he just found out.” Fiona murmurs to V.

“I’m trying to figure out what gift his broke ass could afford.”

They watch tiredly as Frank stumbles behind the house, the sound of glass shattering ringing out, followed by a bunch of rumbling. When Frank comes back he makes his way over to his elder son, slapping two small items into his hands. “See if I’m invited now.”

Lip opens his hands to see two rings, one plain gold band and one with a small diamond in the middle.

“What the fuck?” Fiona says, getting a closer look. “Where the hell did you get these?”

“These are my and Monica’s rings from our first wedding.”

“And you haven’t pawned them?” Ian asks.

Frank shrugs, “They’re sentimental.”

“You’ve sold Liam.”

“I was gonna get him back! Do you want them or not?”

Lip looks over to Charlotte, “Bunny?”

The woman smiles, running a finger over the rings before nodding. “We could always have them blessed to…you know, get rid of any bad juju.”

“Alright.” Lip says, giving her a peck before turning to get in the car. “Move out, people, let’s go.” As everyone piles in he looks at Frank sighing at them, running his dirty hands over each other. “Fuck.” he breathes, dropping his head forward on Charlotte’s shoulder as she sits in his lap. “Come the fuck on Frank.”

“Fantastic.”

Keith Hanes checks his watch one more time before shaking his head and standing from his desk. He’d given them extra time, tried to get some work done and called his wife while he waited. But time was up, he’d waited all that he could. As he turns the lights out and begins to lock up, he tsks at himself disappointedly. Of course it was a load of shit. He’s a Gallagher.

The older man turns the key, locking the second door of his office, certificate of marriage in his hand. He was a fool to even draft it up as he waited. Just as he goes to crumple the paper he hears what sounds like a stampede of feet running in the marble halls.

“Hey! Shit-” Keith turns to find the young couple sprinting over with the entire Gallagher clan (and one Milkovich) behind them. Lip slipping slightly before catching his balance as he and Charlotte round the corner. “We’re here. Made it.”

“You’re 30 minutes late.”

The blond runs a hand through his disheveled hair, running the other up and down the bare skin of his fianceé’s arm. “Is that uh, is that ours?” he asks, nodding his head toward the certificate.

“Well, yes-”

“Ah! Phillip!” Charlotte squeals, bouncing and squeezing his arm. Lip twists his lips, attempting to contain his own smile as they essentially bum rush the judge back into the room. The young couple follow Keith over to his desk, still wrapped up in each other , exchanging pecks as they murmur excitedly to themselves.

“Uh uh, if I’m gonna get my ass beat by my mama for letting you do this, we’re gonna do this right so we can at least get some pictures on the phone. Move-” V pushes Lip back by his chest, separating the pair before wrapping her manicured nails around Charlotte’s wrist. “C’mon little girl. One second judge.”

Fiona shrugs at the bride as V rearranges the room, ushering Carl, Ian and Mickey to stand behind Lip and instructing Fiona and Debbie to go out into the hallway. Frank stumbles his way over, looping his dirty arm with Charlotte’s free one. “Frank, watch her fuckin’ dress.” Ian hisses as Lip’s brows furrow. “Fuck are you doin’ Frank?”

The older man frowns as his two eldest sons. “I’m-” he burps, “obviously going to be walking my new daughter down the aisle.”

Lip’s eyes immediately catch his girl’s as the brown pools widen. He could tell that she didn’t want that. This was gonna be a big moment, shit, he wouldn’t want to remember it with Frank either. Hell, he’s his dad and he planned to push him as far back as possible, he was lucky to be in the fuckin’ room. But he knows that his sweet girl knows he has complicated feelings toward his father. Hatred. Disgust. Humiliation. But the fucker was still in his blood. He couldn’t fully shake him. Lip knows Charlotte won’t outwardly protest Frank being part of this special moment that he was going to bust his ass to make sure is her only walk down an aisle. Not in front of his little siblings. Not when she’s not sure how he feels about it. “Yeah, fuck that, Frank, go sit down.”

“Well isn’t this fuckin’ something? I don’t happen to see her father here, steppin’ up. I’m welcoming her into the Gallagher family-”

“Sit the fuck down, Frank.” Lip grits, clenching his fists. This shit was not gonna happen. He was not gonna come in here, and bumble his way into ruining his wedding. He’d seen him do it to Fiona, he was not gonna do it to Lip. To Charlotte.

“What? You get a little pussy and you’re a tough guy now?”

“Frank-” the blond steps forward, veins in his arm twitching with how tightly he was clenching his fists. Mickey not far behind him, waiting for someone to throw a punch so he could get his lick in, he was still mad at Frank from the last time he broke Ian’s nose, but he’d promised his boyfriend he wouldn't get arrested this month and they were fucking literally in a courthouse in front of a judge.

“He’s right.” Charlotte intercepts, shaking the older man’s arm off. She pats her free hand softly on her fiance’s cheek. “My dad isn’t here. But, Kev is. That’s what people do right? If your dad can’t do it your brother does?”

“Oh shit-” Kev huffs, using his arm to cover his face.

“Um…are you crying?”

“No, m’not fuckin’ cryin’, Lottie, come the fuck on-” He says, planting his hands on her shoulders and steering her the rest of the way out of the door.

Frank scoffs as he watches them. “Well just fuck me then.”

Lip doesn’t believe in fairytales. Or happy endings. True love, none of that shit. He’s always believed in what life has shown him. Fucking struggle basically. Bad shit with a little drop of happiness slipped in there before shit really hits the fan. Just enough good that he doesn’t just say fuck it and give up. That good usually came in the form of something with his siblings, finding some money, or getting his dick wet.

Then Charlotte came. And those little moments of goodness, happiness starting happening more frequently. They came with the smiles she offered him, plump lips spreading, cheeks dimpling. They came with her soft hands, in his rougher ones, running through his hair cupping his face, touching him. It came with her laughter. Loud giggles that often ended with gasps and slaps on his arm and stomach. And still…with him getting his dick wet…but with her.

All of that was great. Amazing.

But this shit right here. He’d never known that it could get this good. Like, they’re in a courtroom/clerk’s office in the courthouse in which he’d had many things expunged from his record as a juvenile. Where he’d been dragged into foster care, group homes, what the fuck ever else by CPS.

All of that went away watching Charlotte Fisher come down the aisle. It’s not even a fucking aisle. The walk from the doorway is too short. His blue eyes scan her hastily as she slowly makes her way, wanting to catch everything, capture every inch of her. He wants to commit this shit to memory. For when things get hard. He knows shit will never be this good again. This is it. He’s peaked. From her legs, up her body, the way the dress fit. The way her hair falls perfectly. And her face…her face he had to save for last. Because she’s doing it again. Looking at him like he’s something. Like he’s everything. He didn’t know you could feel love from a look like that. If he had the mental capacity at the time, he’d wonder what he must look like looking at her. Probably desperate. Needy. I mean, fuck it, he is.

Lip hadn’t even realized he wasn’t breathing until she’s directly in front of him, leaning her forehead against his, the thin, sheer veil over her face the only thing separating him. The white fabric only making her look even more angelic. “You think your sister is gonna kill me for getting makeup on her veil?” she whispers with a giggle.

Phillip Gallagher is an all encompassing experience. You could laugh at Charlotte if you want to, she loves her man. A lot. So much so that after having a screaming match in front of his ex's house, trekking through mud, and one of the first things he’d ever said to her being ‘wanna bang one out’ she was here. In a white dress. And his sister’s veil. Getting married after like 3 months. And she’s fucking gassed.

She knew what she was signing up for. Chaos. Crazy. Gallagher. That’s fine. Phillip’s here. The consequences of dealing with her own family and friends from home barely cross her mind. All she could think of is intense blue eyes. She loves his eyes. She loves Phillip. He makes her happy. Before she’d come here, she’d thought she was content. She thought the only thing she was missing was independence. She didn’t know that this kind of joy existed. And she didn’t know she could care about someone else’s happiness like she cares about Phillip’s. He’s only 20. But life had already been so rough on him. It makes her sad, sometimes, the dark circles under his eyes, watching him bitterly light a cigarette and roughly tug at his beautiful curls when he’s stressed. Seeing his jaw clench when he sees another little kid wearing new shoes as his siblings walk around in used ones, or some guy gifting his girlfriend with something expensive. Charlotte wants to get rid of those looks. She wants to make life easier for him. To cater to him.

If V heard that she’d probably fucking vomit before slapping the shit out her. Her friends from home would think this was just people pleaser Charlotte, being tricked by some guy again. But this is different. She knows Phillip loves her.

She can feel it. To her core. She can see it, in his eyes, essentially gazing into her soul as he looks at her intently. She can hear it, in the vow he makes to her.

“I’m gonna take fuckin’ care of you, Bunny.”

She hears Judge Hansen sigh at the statement, probably shocked that the vow was so singular. So abrupt. 8 words and one of them was fuckin’.

To Charlotte, it was short and sweet. Meaningful.

“And I’m” she giggles wetly through her tears, her shaking hands in his larger, steadier ones. “Gonna make you so fuckin’ happy, Bubba.”

“You may now kiss the bride-”

“Fuckin’ finally.” Lip breathes, tugging Charlotte to him by the waist and capturing her lips. He leans into her with so much force she’d have stumbled back if his grip on her wasn’t so strong. Charlotte throws her arms around his neck, pressing even closer as their lips continue to meet, blissfully unaware of everyone around them.

“Jesus, Gallagher, you’re not supposed to fuckin’ swallow her.” Mickey calls from behind them. Lip smiles into the kiss, pecking her lips one more time before pulling back, only to be pulled back in.

“Yes he is.” she grins, nudging his nose with hers and squealing as he picks her up, spinning her around.

“Alright, you got the music baby?” Kev calls as he makes his way behind the bar, pulling out shot glasses, lining them up on the wooden bar and preparing to pour.

“On it.”

Lip finishes carrying Charlotte in on his back, refusing to carry her in bridal style because ‘this dingy ass bar isn’t our home’ but giving into her whining that her feet hurt and she didn’t want to get them dirty on the sidewalk. He plops her down on one of the stools and walks between her legs, rubbing his hands along her thighs, kissing her. “‘Makin’ you a spoiled brat.”

“Yeah? You married me?” she smiles against his lips. “That’s so cool.”

“Yeah, it fuckin’ is.”

Wrapping her arm around his neck she lets him rest his head in hers, turning to Ian, “Okay, okay, flirt with me.”

The redhead snorts, leaning his elbows back against the bar. “Hey sexy, let me buy you a drink.”

“Ah! Nope, m’married!” she laughs, waving her left hand in his face, ignoring the tickling feeling of Lip’s breathy laughter on her skin.

Fiona makes her way in, she’d just dropped the younger three kids off at Sheila’s so that they could fully celebrate at the Alibi without worrying about them. She pulls Charlotte from her younger brother’s embrace, pressing her lips to the girl’s cheeks. “Mwah, welcome to the shitshow baby, m’just happy to have a sister in law I can fuckin’ stand. He had shit taste before.” She laughs, shoving her brother’s shoulder. “Now, lets toast to the happy fucking couple.” her eyes lock with Lip’s and she gives him a crooked smile. “Seriously. Really fucking happy for you.”

Everybody has seen Lip fucked up before. Depending on the mood he was in, he could be fun as hell or he could look like Frank Jr. And everyone had seen Charlotte off her ass. She was…less reserved than usual. So, thank God Kev had flipped the closed sign before the shots started rolling.

“Alright, alright man! You been under there long enough!” Kev calls, slapping Lip’s back. The younger man just chuckles as he climbs back from between his bride’s legs, garter dangling from his teeth.

“No he hasn’t!”

“Charlotte!”

“She’s married, Kev.” V says, elbowing her own husband before grabbing her cousin’s hand, “One more drink.”

“One more!” Charlotte cheers, stumbling over to the bar and kneeling so her cousin can pour directly from the bottle into her mouth before pouring it into her own. “Baby, dance with me.”

“Lip doesn’t dance.” Fiona snorts, downing her own drink, coughing as she watches her brother obediently stand, going to sway with his new…shit wife. It’s so weird. Watching her little brother be a husband. Slow dancing with the young woman in front of him, despite the loud base of the fast paced music. The sloppy, drunken kissing and his hand on her ass was very on brand for her brother. But the soft smiles in between, and the thumb, sweeping softly over the girl’s cheek, that was new.

“Looks good on him doesn’t it?” Ian asks, resting his arm on his sister.

“Yeah. It does.”

Mickey sidles up next to the siblings, following their gaze. “Cute.” he pats Ian’s hip before stumbling away, his drink sloshing in glass. “But I better get a real fuckin’ wedding.”

“Don’t get used to this, alright, it’s only because it’s your wedding night.” Fiona calls from Kev and V’s stoop. “And clean up after yourselves.” She watches as Lip lifts a yelping Charlotte off of the ground, stumbling backward a little himself before kicking the door open. She sighs, as it slams shut and turns to V. “Your family is gonna kill us, huh?”

“Oh yeah, we’re dead.”

The newlyweds can't concern themselves with anything but each other at the next house over.

“Okay so,” Lip begins between the heated kisses he’s placing on Charlotte’s neck. “Where do you wanna go first, cause this is the only time my family is ever gonna be cool enough to give us the house.”

His head swims as Charlotte’s hand tugs at the hair at the nape of his neck, her legs hooked around his waist as she drags his lips to hers, speaking against his mouth. “I wanna go where you wanna go.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh.”

“C’mon baby.” He breathes before connecting their lips fully, hoisting her, gripping her ass as he walks them up the stairs. He pushes his…their bedroom door open. Charlotte starts giggling, kicking her feet lightly as she adjusts herself in his arms. “What’s funny?”

“You chose our bedroom?” she snorts, pulling back a little to look at him.

“So fuckin’ what? Why’s it funny?”

Charlotte cocks her head to the side, her hair had fallen down hours ago from the dancing she’d done with Fiona and V. “I mean, you’re just the same guy who’s always like,” she clears her throat and tries and fails to make her voice deeper. “Baby, m’so horny let me fuck you in this dirty bathroom, stop being so prissy. Bunny, Kev won’t even be able to tell if I eat your pussy in the car, nobody’s home, lemme bend you over the couch-” she squeaks when he slaps her ass before dumping her onto the bed.

“Fuckin’ brat, I was trying to be nice to you today.”

“Aww,” she pouts, “is that why you wanna do it the ‘boring’ way, like you call it.”

Lip’s gaze softens as he stares down at the woman splayed out on his bed, smiling up at him. “Yeah,” he all but whispers, smoothing his thumb over her cheek, dragging it down her lips and to her jaw, “and, uh, I wanna look at my wife’s pretty face.”

Charlotte settles, catching his hand with hers before he can pull it back, placing it fully on her cheek and leaning into it. “I love you.”

“I fucking love you.” he huffs out, before climbing on top of her and capturing her lips.

This was nowhere near their first time. Like at all. Much to the chagrin of their families, Lip and Charlotte fuck at least 1-2 times a day. But this was something else entirely. They took turns quietly undressing each other, Charlotte taking the time to undo each of Lip’s buttons, Lip running his fingers along her spine as he unzips her zipper. Never straying far from each other, lips either melded together, or close, sharing air.

Charlotte’s fingers flex in blond curls as he settles between her legs, blue eyes staring at her intently, watching for every reaction, as he moans into her core. He only gets to taste her for a moment before she was whining for him to come up, wrapping her legs around him as he settles back on top of her. The couple shares a gasp as he pushes into her, the only sounds filling the air, the soft creaking of the old bed to the rhythm of his slow thrusts and the quiet moans they share.

Lip fights to keep his eyes open despite their impulse to roll closed, desperately taking in her face as he rocks into her, one hand holding her leg, the other exploring her face, his thumb dips into her mouth for a moment, pulling a sound from her that has him chasing it to her lips, kissing her deeply, guiding her tongue along his,

After a moment he drops his head next to hers, pressing his mouth to his ear. “Fucking love you.” Charlotte only gasps in response as his movements get rougher despite maintaining their slow pace. Her hand gripping at his arms as she tightens around him. “Yeah? You like that? You like hearing how much I love you?” Her cry only fuels him, his own mouth falling open briefly as he breathes against her neck. “I love you more than anything and now you’re mine. Say it.”

When all she offers him is a whine, Lip tightens his grip on her jaw slightly, leaning back up and pushing their foreheads together, looking down at her. “Did you hear me?”

“I…I’m yours.”

“That’s right, baby. M’gonna make you so fuckin’ happy. Gonna get you a real fuckin’ house. Gonna be such a good husband for you, bunny. Take care of you.”

“M’gonna take care of you too.” she whispers, arching up to kiss him again, trailing her lips against his cheek.

“God damnit-” he groans, reaching down between them to rub along her clit, feeling her start to spasm around him. “Fuck fuck fuck. C’mon baby.” His grip on her tightens as she climaxes, squirming in his arms as he commits her cries to memory, wanting to hear that sound play on loop in his brain. Lip brings both of his hands to her hips, gripping tightly as he pins her to the bed, as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming sloppy. “Fuck, Charlotte, tell me you love me.”

Through her haze, Charlotte calms enough to focus her vision on her husband, truly hearing his plea, seeing it in his eyes as he waits. How could she not? “I love you, Phillip Gallagher.”

Lip moans loudly, his hands tightening impossibly around her as he buries his face in her neck to bury the sound, but she hears it anyway. She feels as he empties himself into her and rubs her hands along his back as he settles on top of her, brushing wet curls away from his face when he finally comes up to press soft, persistent pecks onto her lips.

After a few minutes he pushes off and out of her, despite her demands that he stay where he was, and tosses her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “C’mon Mrs. Gallagher, we gotta make sure you don’t get a UTI.”

“Romantic.”

“Shut up, I’m plenty romantic.”

“In what way?” she scoffs as he plops her down on the toilet and leans against the sink, not even offering her the decency of looking away while she pees. “Hey, you wanna get married tomorrow?” she mocks.

Lip smirks down at her, flicking her forehead. “You’re gonna stop mockin’ me, you don’t like it when I do it to you.”

“I don’t care when you mock me.” she pouts, crossing her arms.

“Oh, fuck, Phillip-” he whines loudly, laughing between his mocking whimpers as he starts tugging her hands away from where they’re covering her ears. “I’m yours, Phillip, please-” he continues for a moment before quietly trailing off, running the rough pads of his fingers along her collarbone, following his own movement with his eyes, starting a trail down to her breasts.

“You just turned yourself on, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” he shrugs, leaning back on the sink again. “You gonna let me fuck you in the shower?”

Lip sleepily reaches over, grabbing the ringing phone from the bedside table, pressing it to his ear as he smooths a hand down Charlotte’s spine, hoping not to wake her. He was proud of his handiwork, her hair was a mess, she was gonna throw a fit when she woke up and realized she didn’t cover it, but it didn’t matter, they’d sweated it out the night before anyway. Her body is littered with hickeys, her ass still warm and red. He had matching love bites of his own and he was sure his back was red with scratch marks with the pleasant sting he feels.

“Charlotte? Hello?” a man’s voice burns in Lip’s ears as his blue eyes shoot open. He pushes off of the bed, stepping onto the wooden floor, body already tense.

“Who the fuck is this?” he growls into the phone, his change in tone causing the woman to stir.

The voice sounds affronted, meeting his anger with its own. “No, who the hell is this?”

“Her fucking husband, your turn dickhead.” He grits, Charlotte shooting up behind him, waving her hands and trying to wrestle the device out of his hands pleading ‘hang up, hang up, hang up-’ “Her fucking father, young man. I win. Now can I speak to my daughter?”

#oc #fiona gallagher #ian gallagher #kevin ball #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x oc #lip gallagher x reader #shameless #veronica fisher #gallagher #love #charlotte fisher #better #ian x mickey #mickey milkovich

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btsydtrash · 6 months

Text

Daydream

Childhood sweethearts Hoseok x YN

(Author's note: This ended nicely however I could be tempted to write additons to it. I initially wanted this to be a sweethearts-to-enemies story but I like how it feels at this point. Also, this is my debut project to get back into writing lol. Please, don't kill me for making a whole new one-shot, but I wanted to grease my wheels again.)

In this story, Hoseok and YN are minors so there's no sexual content at all(!!) but they do have a lil chaste kissy kiss. Maybe I could do a time-skip for when they're in college or whatever, but that's only if ya'll want it lol!

Summer, 2004

“Hey, you know you aren’t supposed to do it that way, right?”

Hoseok glances up, eyes naturally squinting as the sun shines in his eyes. He puts up his hands, sticky with ice-cream from his snack, to shield his eyes. In front of him stands an equally-sticky girl. Her cheeks are covered in green ice-cream and her t-shirt has some melted chocolate all over the front. She’s missing a front tooth, clear from where she’s smiling brightly at him, and she seems a little sweaty, her hair sticking to her forehead in some places. Hoseok understands - it’s July, dead in the middle of summer time in Gwangju. It might as well be hell on Earth.

Hoseok tilts his head to the side and his expression must show confusion as the girl scoffs. “That!”

She gestures to the sandcastle he was making in the sandbox.

“It’s a castle.” He murmurs.

She nods. “I know, I’m not a dummy.”

“So, what?”

She sighs and crouches down. “The poles aren’t high enough and the moat shouldn’t be this way.”

“But it’s my castle,” he says, pouting. “I want it to look like this.”

He’s lying, of course. He isn’t good with his hands but the girl teasing about his castle is making his upset. Who does she think she is?

The girl takes a second to look at his expression before she smiles, and it doesn’t hold any malice in it - only amusement. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

His cheeks burn, and it has nothing to do with the sun this time.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, moving to stand. “Do what you want.”

He moves to leave, no longer wanting to be around this stranger. He scans the playground to look for his dad, but he can’t spot him. No matter, he thinks. I’ll just find my own way home, like usual.

A hand on his wrist stalls his movements. “Hey, don’t go.”

He looks back at the girl and she looks chastised. She continues, “Shall we do it together? Your style and my style mixed together?”

He thinks for a moment before he nods, tentatively. “Okay.”

And that was the beginning.

Sometimes Hoseok thinks back to that day, their first meeting, and wonders if it was serendipity or an omen. Either way, he wouldn’t have changed it for a thing.

—

8 years later

“YAH! Jung Hoseok!”

Hoseok jerks at the familiar shrill sound of his best friend’s voice. He glances to the left from where he’s laying on the roof, needing a brief moment of silence and peace before his Korean history class, to see you. In your left hand, an empty bread wrapper. In your right hand, his backpack.

Hoseok sits up. “Oh, you found it?”

You glower at him, darkly. “You mean the bread I had been saving since this morning to eat during my break time? Yes. I found it.”

He smiles, small but real, and moves to his feet, throwing his arm over your lithe shoulders. “It was delicious.”

You elbow him in his stomach, making him wince. “You owe me after school.”

He takes his backpack out of your hand and throws it over his shoulder. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I mean it, Hobi,” you warn, trailing behind him. He grabs your shoulder and pulls you under his arm, leading you down the corridor to your shared class, listening to you scold him the entire time.

His heart clenches at the nickname. Only you call him that. And it makes him feel amazing every time. You made it in elementary school, randomly whispering it in his ear, and he’s still embarrassed to say he squealed in bed that night, thinking you had something special only for him.

Yes, yes. He has a crush on you. A huge one, actually. You are his first and only love. And, along with it, the literal bane of his existence. This is because you won’t leave him alone, no matter what he does.

He has always been an underachiever at school. You, on the other hand, are a shining star, academically. You always score first or second in your year group, you are the class president and you are a member of four different teams. That hadn’t always been true though.

In elementary school, you had gotten into your fair share of fights for him. Hoseok had been skinny and poor, and he looked pitiful most days. The other boys would exclude or tease him, for being so close to you - a girl. They would call him gay or say he had mental instability. Then, you would come out and curse and scold them until they cried. One time, you even kicked a boy so hard in his face, you had broken his front tooth. You both got into so much trouble that day, but it remains his favorite memory of his childhood. The two of you, sitting with your arms raised in the principal’s office, covered in cuts and bruises, messy hair and dirt rubbed all over your clothes from the ensuing fight. You had glanced over at him and given him a private smile that said ‘I don’t regret a thing’, and he returned it with his own. ‘I’d do anything for you.’ He hoped you understood it then, and remember it as fondly as he does now.

The only things Hoseok can do well are sports, and that’s because he has a hard-head. You come to all of his games, no matter where or when they are, even shirking your other responsibilities to support him. And, this just makes him love you that much more.

He feels like you value him. You support him. You show him so much love that it makes him squirm.

As someone who has been shown none of those things from his family, it was overwhelming at first. He tried to push his feelings away, smother them, kill them even, but it never worked. The feelings would build and build and build until he felt physically sick from the weight of them. At 13, he resigned himself to loving you for as long as he lived, but he knew nothing could come from it.

You were just too lovely for a loser like him.

So, he let himself be your best friend - the bestest best friend he could be. And, it has been a pleasant near-decade of friendship, for the most part.

Until now.

You seemed to have a crush yourself.

And, it was killing him inside.

He didn’t know who, but you had been acting weird these last few months. You did your makeup, changed your hair, stopped wearing glasses. All the cute things he thought were so perfect about you, you were steadily erasing and replacing with someone else. He still thought you were beautiful - actually, it’s been hard to even look you in your eyes - but knowing it was for some other idiot was driving him crazy.

He spends the class stealing glances at the side of your face, wondering how pretty you would be in a few years time. He wonders if he’ll be by your side to see what kind of butterfly you would turn into at that time, too. Or, maybe he will be replaced by someone else. Someone who could actually stand by your side with pride.

—

“Hobi,” you whisper into his ears. He woke up a while ago, but he keeps his eyes closed in order to feel you this close to him. His heart is racing in his chest and he feels queasy in the best way possible. “You shouldn’t sleep here.”

He grumbles a little and you move your hand to pat his chest comfortingly. “It’s cold, Hobi. Wake up and come inside.”

He had developed this habit of waiting outside of your apartment complex on one of the benches when he doesn’t want to go back home. Your parents are the kindest people on Earth, and they always let him in. They give him food, let his shower and even sleep on the couch a couple of times. He’s still a kid, so they probably think he’s pathetic but some days, he thinks he would do anything to stay out of his house.

It just so happens that he loves being at your house. It’s so warm - just like you.

He wishes he could stay in this bubble for longer, pretending to be asleep so you’ll touch him all tenderly as you are doing. But, it’s cold, and he doesn’t want you to get sick, so he holds all his yearning in his chest and blinks open an eye.

“There you are,” you croon, softly, and then there you go, moving your hand away. He can barely catch the disappointment from appearing on his face. “Let’s go inside, hm?”

And, he trails behind you, like he always does.

A happy, stupid fool.

—

The crush you had on whoever was getting worse, and it was getting harder for him to hold back his frustration each time you gazed longingly out of the window or twisted the necklace he gave you for your thirteenth birthday around your fingers, thinking so deeply that your forehead creased.

He pushes his fingers between your brows to smoothen out the wrinkles and you blink back into clarity.

“Sorry, I was just-”

“Distracted,” he grumbles, pushing his egg-fried rice around on his place. He has no appetite, thinking of all the different guys this fucker could be.

You give him a small smile and go back to your own meal.

God, you were so pretty. Your hair falls into your face a little, so he pushes it behind your ear easily. His fingers barely touch your cheek but he feels electricity zing through his body at the small contact. He wants to cup your soft cheek in his hand, feel how warm your skin is for real, but he settles on just… pushing your hair back and turning his eyes to his plate.

He doesn’t see how red your cheeks burn as he looks away.

—

“YN, you should just tell him,” your friend, Kyunghee… (Kyeonghae? Kyeongmi?) says, and her tone of voice makes Hoseok freeze in his tracks. The girls are in the corridor outside of the girls’ bathroom, and he is going to meet you to walk you to your shared fourth period class. But, something about what your friend is saying makes a pit of anxiety open up in his stomach.

He stands with his back to the wall, hidden from sight, but within hearing distance. He knows it’s wrong but Hoseok can’t help himself. It’s like he’s dying to know but can’t bear the truth either.

“I don’t know…”

You sound so unsure, so nervous, so different from what he knows you to be like, that it makes him sick.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

So, this is what you were talking about. Your crush. He bites his lip so hard that he can taste blood.

“I don’t know what I would do,” you continue on, and it sounds like you are seconds away from crying. Crying over some fucker who isn’t him. His fists clench by his side and he realized that his eyes, too, are stinging.

“Isn’t it better to tell him and get it off your chest?” Your other friend, Sana (Sara? Suha?) says, and he wants to put her head through the wall.

No. It wouldn’t be better. She shouldn’t say anything to anyone about any feelings she may or may not have!

“I think…” You pause, and he holds his breath. “I think I’m in love with him.”

And just like that, Hoseok feels part of himself die right then and there.

—

He doesn’t disappear like he wants to. He diligently walks you to your fourth period class, he sits beside you as he always does, he stares ahead with an intensity so strong that the teacher asks him if he’s alright three different times.

But, he doesn’t speak to you.

In fact, he doesn’t even look at you.

And, he can tell he’s hurting you. however, he can’t help it.

You hurt him first.

Yes, he knows you didn’t mean to. And he knows you probably can’t help how you feel either. But he’s hurting inside, so badly that he thinks he might suffocate. As soon as his last class lets out, he’s rushing out of his seat, out of the classroom and he’s walking back home at a pace so fast, he doesn’t realize his thighs are rubbed raw until he takes a shower later that night before bed.

It’s only when he knows he’s alone, when his dad is gone doing only God knows what, that he finally lets himself cry.

And he cries all night, even in his sleep, over you.

—

Your relationship becomes strained after that.

You notice it almost immediately. Hoseok stops waiting for you after class, he stops miraculously bumping into your in the corridors, he stops smiling at you through the windows of the class when he takes bathroom breaks.

Instead, there seems to be a wall of ice between the two of you, and you have no idea where it came from.

You try to corner him, to confront him about it, because you deserve an explanation, damn it, but he just weasels his way out of it by hooking onto someone else’s backpack and claiming to be meeting them for dinner or outpacing you with his stupidly long legs.

And, as much as it pains you to say it, you can’t just go to his apartment because you don’t know where he lives.

Over a decade of friendship and he has never invited you over to his place.

You aren’t even sure which area he lives in, even though you both had the bus together every afternoon after school since you were thirteen.

He has always been very private about his life, you wanted to respect his wishes, even if it felt like he didn’t trust you. You try not to personalize it - to not make it about you, but it had been hard, especially considering how open you are with him about everything.

Well, almost everything.

Still, this weirdness has to stop, and soon.

You watch Hobi walk out onto the baseball field in his team uniform. While you were inside studying, Hobi was outside being the shining star of your school’s sports’ team. He’s always been talented with his body and athletics, even if he constantly talked down on his skills. You knew he would be a great fit for the baseball and basketball team, so when you pushed him to go try-out, you knew he would shine. And you were right.

He doesn’t look back up to the window like he usually did to smile and wink at you, and it makes your lips draw down in a deep frown.

Did you do something to him? Did you upset him somehow?

Or… Did he find out?

You blanche at the thought.

But, you had been so careful. He couldn’t know.

Nervously, you gnaw at your thumb nail and feel your forehead furrow in a deep frown. You didn’t know how you could salvage this situation with your childhood best friend, but you know you couldn’t stand this uncomfortable stiffness between the two of you anymore.

Hours later, Hobi changes into his sneakers and tosses his school shoes into his locker. He closes the locker to see you standing directly to his right and it nearly scares the life out of him.

“Fuc- YN! Don’t do that,” he scolds, clutching his hand over his racing heart.

On the other hand, your heart is racing for a different reason. Seeing him look at you for the first time in weeks is making you incredibly nervous. So, you steel your expression and growl, “Follow me.”

“YN…”

You stall on your heel and glare over your shoulder. “Do not piss me off. Follow. Me. Hoseok.”

Fearfully, Hoseok clamps his mouth shut and faithfully trails behind you until you reach the park near your school. You walk far into the park, until you can just barely see the street, and turn to face him.

“Spill,” you command.

He avoids your eyes and shoves his hands in his pocket. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Do I look stupid to you?”

He gives you a brief look that reads, Yeah, kinda, dummy, before he returns his eyes to the space behind you.

You approach him but he takes one small step back, and that’s enough to stab at your heart.

“Hobi… Did I do something to you?”

He flinches and swallows, his expression growing pained for a moment before smoothing out into nothingness again.

“No,” he replies. “I just- This is a bit… I just want to make new friends.”

It all tumbles out at the end, like a flood of water that he can’t hold back, and if you felt hurt before, now it feels like he’s punched a hole in your chest.

“I never stopped you from making friends, Hobi,” you mutter, eyes stinging. “Did I?”

You really can’t be sure.

His lips pucker, strangely, like he’s sucking on something sour. Finally, he admits, “A little…”

“How?”

You gasp a little, your throat tight and thick, and your eyes are practically on fire.

“You… YN, you and I are always together,” he explains. He starts pacing then, as if he can’t keep himself still. “It’s me and it’s you, and it’s us. Nobody can come between that. So, of course I never made friends. Nobody wanted to talk to me or be around me, and I never needed anyone else. But now… I just feel like we don’t need to be… We should… I need… I need space, dummy.”

Biting down on what you wanted to say, you let out a shuddering breath and nod. “I understand.”

But the voice doesn’t sound like yours anymore. It’s all garbled and wet and weird.

Hoseok seems to notice too because he stops pacing instantly.

“YN…?”

You glance up and he takes a shocked step back before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you in close. You are pressed tightly against his chest and all you can see or smell is him.

“I didn’t mean it, don’t cry,” he whispers all at once. “I was being mean. I’m so sorry. Please, don’t cry.”

He’s whispering things over and over again, but you can’t really hear anything over the sound of his racing heartbeat. It’s so loud, it almost deafens you. Hoseok sits you both down on a bench and wraps you up nice and tight, swaying from side to side and patting your back until all the choked sobs have worked their way out.

He wipes your face with his sleeve, waving off your worries of mascara stains. “I’ve got a washing machine, dummy.”

You giggle, but it still sounds so wet and inhuman that it makes you both grimace.

“Can I tell you the truth, YN?

You peer up at him through wet lashes, but he isn’t looking at you. He’s staring ahead, and his side profile is so handsome, it takes your breath away. He’s always been so pretty to you.

“The reason I can’t be around you anymore is because I fucked up,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. It surprises you deeply as Hoseok rarely ever swears around you. He seems frustrated, nervous and scared. “I… I promised we would always be together, right?”

You nod.

“We both promised, right?”

You nod again.

He turns to look at you this time, and now he’s the one with watery eyes and flushed cheeks. “I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

He takes in a deep, shaky breath. “I haven’t for a long time, YN.”

“So…”

“I’m in love with you,” he says in a quiet whisper. The wind carries his words to your ears so delicately that it almost feels as if you imagined it. You stare, dumbly, at him while his ears pink under your gaze. He shrinks on himself and bites his bottom lip. “I told you I fucked up.”

“Then I think I fucked up too,” you admit after a long pause. You reach for his face, holding his cheeks between your shaky palms. “I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve.”

His eyes widen until they are incredibly large, and then he’s kissing you. It isn’t hot and angry and wild like you had dreamed. It isn’t soft and chaste like you read about in books. It isn’t sloppy and wet like the girls told you it could be.

It’s warm and firm, like Hoseok always has been. He holds the back of your neck in his hand and moves his other hand to rest on your hip lightly. Hoseok pulls back to press his nose against yours and then pecks you twice on your lips, eyes fluttering closed. Then, he rests his forehead against your own and the two of you just… wait.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?”

You let out a giggle then, and shake your head, pulling back slightly. “Not at all, dummy.”

*end*

#jung hoseok #bts fanfic #bts series #kpop writers #kpop oneshots #bts oneshot #jung hoseok x reader #bts #kpop #hoseok jung

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ginger-snap-talkin-nonsense · 1 year

Note

Glad someone acknowledges that what Mabel did is morally reprehensible, and what bothers me is people defend it by saying "she's 12". I mean idk about ya'll but when I was 12 I wasn't risking my family's lives to a nightmare demon for a dude, I was doing my fuckin homework lmfao.

I love Gravity Falls to death but the way they turned Mabel from a silly kid to an actual horrible person speaks to how badly the writers can't write female characters to save their pissholes, and fans defending that shit annoy me to no end. They do the exact same thing when the fucked up shit Princess Bubblegum did is brought up

I’m gonna co-opt this ask because this lets me talk about two things regarding criticism that I find really interesting in the internet world-that being “perception of wrongness” and “heart moments”.

Perception of Wrongness:

I can actually understand why people had a hard time calling Mabel poorly written by the end of series, because this is a trend that happens a lot when talking about media criticism as a whole, and it is the subconscious concern that one is going to be perceived as morally wrong for taking umbrage with a character or product that concerns a well poisoned topic.

Mabel is a girl. And because Mabel is a girl, there was no shortage of bad faith arguments regarding Mabel from episode 1 on as being anything from obnoxious to a Mary Sue to an actively bad person (before doing anything that one could call actually wrong).

So, when a fandom space is poisoned by arguments that boil down to “Mabel is a girl and I hate women”, people have a tendency to overcorrect in the other direction and decide that the character is without flaw.

You actually see this a lot with the infamous movie “Fight Club”, which garnered a fanbase of pathetic Andrew Tate wannabes slobbering on Tyler Durden’s knob. So now if someone (especially a guy) says they like the movie most peoples reaction is immediate disgust even though the movie itself is a blatant critique on toxic masculinity based on a book written by a gay man inspired by a hate crime he was a victim of. Well poisoned arguments made the thing poison, so anyone who touches it must be a poisoner. You don’t want to be perceived as condoning the the former-perceived as morally wrong.

I myself had issues with this actually, leading up to Nathan and I watching through the MCU I had an instinctive reaction to be disdainful of his opinion that Captain Marvel was a bad film even though I know Nathan is one of the most “girl movie” positive people on the planet. When we talked about the movie as we watched it it became clear that the problem was that Carol didn’t get to be a cool superhero because they spent so much of the movie proving she “deserved” a spot in the MCU when none of the other heroes needing such proof. Which I agreed with!

It’s hard to untrained yourself from internet discourse brain, but you’ll be better for the trouble if you do so.

On the other side of the creator/consumer spectrum!

Heart Moments:

Creators love the things they make. That is an obvious and redundant statement. But the love of that creation goes through a lot of changes. We’ve talked before about how creators will often insert characters from early drafts of projects into the final product even if the product doesn’t fit with them anymore (see Hunter from TOH), but we don’t talk as much about a similar phenomenon wherein a creator has a burst of inspiration and they can see so perfectly a moment in time for their art that rests heavy on their heart.

This moment could be a cool shot, an impressive piece of cinematography or animation, an actor giving a specific delivery, or a line you want more than anything. But as you write that moment is no longer viable. It doesn’t fit with the greater piece or writes a character out of character.

This is what happened with Mabel in Sock Opera. Alex saw the ability to have Bill say a line about siblings and sacrifice, which would allow one of the twins to say a big line that when the Stan twist was revealed everyone would go “OHHHHH SHIT SO WHEN HE ASKED WHY SOMEONE WOULD SACRIFICE EVERYTHING FOR A SIBLING AND SHE SAID DIPPER WOULD IT WAS ACTUALLY A PARALLEL AND-“. Mabel and the ramifications of the scene to make that heart moment realized were disregarded in its addition.

I actually noticed this for the first time in a Rooster Teeth show I’m fond of called “Camp Camp”. In the 4th season, fan darling David has a solo adventure in “The Forest” where he’s lost in the woods and struggles to survive leading to a nervous breakdown wherein he near kills a wolf, decides against it, and learns a lesson about the importance of kindness in the face of misery.

Problem being that if you know the show at all, David is literally the worst person to do this episode with. David is not only a skilled and experienced outdoorsman who made it his life goal to become a camp counselor as a child and loves the woods, but he’s also the only character who’s primary trait in unrepentant kindness to anyone no matter the cost. To the point that it’s actually his largest vice as it gets him and his loved ones in dangerous situations.

But nobody cared because David has a breakdown was something that looked good in gif sets. It was an episode built around a “Heart Moment”-this one being everyone’s favorite blorbo screaming and crying while emotionally collapsing. And that was a Rooster Teeth cartoon that’s messy as hell-Gravity Falls is groundbreaking shit! But both still suffered at the same root issue.

It’s hard to let go of the scenes on your heart. When the thing you’re creating means so much to you, and that part of it rests on your heart so heavy, it’s hard to bring yourself to remove the latter. But you have to ask if the character you worked so hard to bring to life is worth potentially sacrificing to get that one moment off your heart.

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1rsoldiersince2012 · 11 months

Text

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Words: 4371 (chapter 36)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

WE ARE COOKING YA'LL

36. Interlude

"This doesn't change anything, Ben."

"Except now we know who your king of diamonds is." Foggy adds to Karen's words and looks at Ben, standing in the the middle of the office.

"You see the news? Everything's changed. Fisk has gotten out in front of being dragged into the spotlight. My editor thinks he's the Second Coming. Hell, the whole city does." Ben pulls out a fresh newspaper, Fisk proudly occupying the whole front page.

"So, we just... We keep digging."

"I've been doing that. Internet went from nothing on Fisk to filled with three-hanky stories about a poor little fat kid from Hell's Kitchen. Abandoned by his father when he was 12. Mother died a year later. Now look at him. Boot straps and a big dream." Ben exhales loudly, rubbing his forehead.

"Somebody knows something. It's just a matter of asking the right people the right questions in the right tone of voice." Foggy says, sure of his words.

"Yeah, that's how you get yourself hurt." Ben raises his eyebrows theatrically.

"That's what I keep telling them." Matt silently slips inside the office upon Ben's last words. "Maybe they'll listen to you."

"Ben Urich, Matt Murdock. Attorney at Why the Hell Bother." Karen introduces the two of them with a hint of annoyance.

"Mr. Murdock." Ben shakes his hand.

"Matt." Matt corrects Ben, hearing your slow steps outside in the corridor.

You return to the office, moments later, noticing a new face in the middle of the room. Extending your arm, you intently look at his face, "I know you from somewhere."

"Ben Urich, New York Bulletin." He takes your hand, eyes shining in a weird way, as if he knew more about you than you did. Taking in your rather disheveled appearance.

"Y/n." You let go of his hand first, "You were that journalist in courtroom when I had my case televised."

"Yes, and I gotta say, it was a pretty damn good case." He cracks a smile, yet you don't show any signs of appreciation.

"You also wrote about the attack on me at Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz. Could've tried to write at least a believable amout of lies." You say, watching his reaction.

His smile doesn't fall, on the contrary, it only gets bigger, "Well, in my line of work, that's a compliment.

Foggy shakes his head at the interaction and brings back the previous topic, "My partner thinks we should be pursuing this through the legal system."

"A lot safer that way." Ben agrees.

"Well, why don't we all just crawl under the covers, then?" Karen ignites again, and you close your eyes in hopes of keeping your mouth shut this time, already catching up with the talk.

"No, Karen-" Matt begins softly, only to be cut short by Karen.

"Well, I'm sorry, but if Fisk is really behind everything that has happened, then we need to do something."

"If we were the only ones after him, I'd tend to agree." Ben says mysteriously, "Friend of yours came to see me the other night the man in the mask."

"Terrorist cop-killer." Foggy repeats Fisk's previous words, and you can't help but agree with Fisk here. Your heart drops and face becomes even paler than it was since the day started.

"Says he was framed." Ben adds nonchalantly, turning around to catch everyone's expressions. Matt turns his back away from the group.

"I could say I'm Captain America, but it doesn't put wings on my head." Foggy rolls his eyes, only to be shut by Karen.

"What did he want?"

"Same thing we do... expose Fisk. I printed this from a thumb drive he gave me." Ben hands Karen a bunch of papers. She snatches them like a hawk and hurries to sit behind her desk. In the meantime, you lean on the nearby wall, feeling that the dizziness from lack of sleep and not eating normal food is finally catching up with you.

"Oh, my God!" Karen exclaims and starts flipping through the pages.

"Told me Fisk was behind the bombings and shooting those cops said he owns half the police that they helped him take down the Russians." Ben continues, looking around the room again, and takes a notice that you're not yourself today. He remembers vividly that day when he sat in the courtroom during your televised case - you were almost glowing and full of life. Now it seemed to him that you were either sick or angry or depressed.

"But I don't understand. If you have all of this, then..." Karen blabbers again, only this time Matt interrupts her.

"Hearsay. Can't print any of it without corroboration, can you?"

"He could just be throwing smoke. I mean, he just killed Detective Blake." Foggy adds, much to Matt's displease.

"Said Blake's partner Hoffman did it, probably on Fisk's orders. But yeah, it occurred to me." Ben nods.

"You could talk to Hoffman." Matt pouts in thought, and you almost find it amusing in this kind of situation.

"Tried. He's in the wind. Or bottom of the river. Either way."Ben shrugs, now completely helpless.

"He just shrugged." Foggy says to Matt.

"Wait, what about the Union Allied money? Is there a way that we can tie it directly to Fisk?" Karen rises from her chair.

"Maybe. According to the Mask, a man named, uh, Leland Owlsley runs the books. But since getting roughed up by him, Owlsley's been surrounded by Fisk's security. Can't get anywhere near him." Ben shakes his head, "Same goes with, uh, James Wesley, the guy you said hired you to defend Healy."

Upon the mention of Wesley, you feel two sets of eyes staring at you. "What?" You say defensively, "I'm not in contact with him anymore." Crossing your arms, you turn your eyes towards the window, avoiding making eye contact with anyone in the room. Ben raises an eyebrow at Karen, but she only grimaces slightly, not giving any answer to his wordless question. Matt senses something in your voice, perhaps an underlying lie that he can't put a finger on just yet.

"Look, the Mask came to Ben for help. And I don't care how rich Fisk is, nobody can totally erase their past. I mean, somewhere out there, there has to be a piece of paper, a witness... the truth."

"What about Confederated Global? The suit that hired us to defend Healy standing right next to Fisk when he gave his big speech." Foggy looks at you again, only to find you staring with a hard look on your face out the window.

"I looked into that. According to FCC filings, Confed Global's where Fisk gets most of his reported income."

"All right, let's play this out. If Fisk is connected to Confed Global, that means he's involved in Westmeyer-Holt Contracting, which Westmeyer-Holt is strong-arming tenants out of their rent-controlled apartments." Matt gestures with his hands slightly, pulling back your attention. For whatever crazy reason, he felt sorry that you were put into this position by Wesley now. After your last burst of emotions, Karen felt distrustful towards you, but in Matt's mind that was understandable reaction.

"Um, they were hired by a guy named Armand Tully." Karen quickly adds.

"The slumlord?" Ben makes sure he heard it right.

"Landman and Zack say he's on vacation on an island that no one can pronounce, where they use coconuts as phones." Foggy shrugs, and you wonder if he's still in contact with Marci. Foggy catches your curious look and feels his cheeks burning.

"Another connection in the wind." Ben hangs his head low, earning an apologetic look from Karen.

"Westmeyer-Holt to Confed to Fisk. We pull that thread, see what it unravels." Matt begins circling around the room.

"Still not sure about this mask guy." Foggy says and you agree with him with a hum.

"He didn't hurt Ben and he didn't hurt me. I'll take the Devil of Hell's Kitchen over Fisk any day. Plus, he kicks ass." Karen says, eyes clashing with you.

"Karen, you know, maybe refrain from these talks in a law office, or someone might think that you're ready to take his place in jail." You smile at her sourly. Karen bites her lip, clearly not satisfied with the way you put her in her place. "He's a vigilante after all."

Ben nods to himself again. Your frustration was justifiable, he knew what it felt like to lose a well-paid job and start a new chapter of life. Maybe life wasn't treating you right now.

"Well, if he's such a badass, why did he come to Ben? Why not just take Fisk down himself?" Foggy silently agrees with you.

"Maybe he knows there's some roads you can't come back from." Ben replies mysteriously.

***

You look around, noticing the interior of the church. Clinton Church. You've never been here before. Your parents were not too religious to regularly go to church, so it didn't pass on you either. God? You didn't believe in God, because in the end, you saved yourself, not God. He didn't save you, he didn't save anyone. God was just a mythical creation, made up so that in the worst moments, people wouldn't lose their hope. God didn't mean anything to you, because if he was real, if he was righteous, you wouldn't have to deal with all these injustices everyday. If he was real, the world would've been a better place. But it wasn't. Never going to be.

The lights were lit on only at the front, only near the altar, and you catch yourself looking at the cross and Jesus on it. Was he even real? Or was he only a copy of someone else's imagination? Every cross was different, unique, yet everyone imagined the same man crucified, same man hanging his head to the side, same man with a woven crown of thorns, sticking into his forehead like needles. If he was real, in your mind he was stupid. Sacrificing yourself for the sins of the people? They were not worth it, not then and surely not now. Maybe he was real. Maybe he was a saint, but he was also blind. Blind to notice that humanity wasn't ready to understand his sacrifice, blind to think that it still meant something thousands of years later. Blind like Lady Justice.

Involuntary, you shiver. The air was rather cool inside the church and somehow, not even your coat was keeping you warm. Turning to your right, you glance at Foggy, eyes cast down into his lap, fingers nervously playing with the hem of his coat. Movement in the front catches your attention and you see Father Lantom emerge from the shadows. He looks at all four of you, eyes lingering on a new face here - you. Feeling uneasy under the intense gaze, you bow your head down, almost in shame. You've never liked priests in general, because they looked at you as if they knew who you were under that facade. Father Lantom notices the change in your face and clear his throat.

You only hear half of the things that he's saying; distracted by the way sunlight falls though the multicoloured windows and Karen's silent sniffling, you felt like an intruder here. Father continued talking about God, the fragility of life and the values of believing. None of this made sense to you, so you distracted your thoughts from the reason that brought all four of you here. Wesley. That bastard really sugar-coated you before throwing you unprepared to the lions. And now he was proudly marching behind Fisk on live television? You felt sick again, the need to throw up returned, yet there was nothing in your stomach the whole day, and the acidic aftertaste returned.

"Shall we go?" Foggy nudges your arm gently, and you look at him wide-eyed for a good second.

"Yeah." You whisper, and get up, letting everyone pass through, side lining with Matt. Father Lantom walks behind the two of you, clearly in thought. Matt has mentioned a woman before, he spoke so fondly of her that Lantom was in no doubt that Matt fell in love. He now wondered if that woman was you, or Karen; but Karen's name has been said when Matt talked about the friendships that he made. So it left him with one answer - you.

"Excuse me, but I don't think I've seen you in church before." Father Lantom comes in between you and Matt, and gives a warm smile, almost making you grimace at his comment. You knew it bound to happen, these type of things were always inevitable.

"Um, yeah, no, I'm not really a churchgoer." You shrug slowly, turning your eyes away from his piercing blue ones.

"Not religious or not enough time?" Father smiles again, so kindly, that you feel the urge to pour your heart out to him.

There was that feeling again, feeling that he can read you like an open book. "A bit of both." You say at first, then feeling like it's not a good place for lying, add, "mostly the first one."

"Ah. Well, Matthew here has been caught up in his work, he never visits me these days."

"Father..." Matt begins, feeling exposed. Father knows about his little nightly rendezvous, so it shouldn't really surprise him that he doesn't go to church any more.

"Oh, really?" You ask, stealing a glance at Matt, then crack a small smile, "blame me for this one Father, since he employed me, we've been very busy with work. And... I'm not a particularly good influence on him."

Matt feels his cheeks heating up.

"Really? Well, Matthew, I'll take it to consideration for your next confession. Whenever that may be."

"Yeah." Matt mutters, thankful to finally go out into the fresh air.

Nearing the small graveyard that was close to the church, you notice the casket next to the grave. Shivers run down your spine, head full of unpleasant memories and images, but you try to calm yourself, blaming it on the wind. All four of you stand at the end of the grave, watching the graveyard worker lower the casket into the ground slowly, accompanied by the final words that Father is saying to Mrs Cardenas, and almost instinctively, your hand finds Matt's by his side, slipping your fingers between his cold ones. The emotions run wild through your head, your blood, but you only close your eyes, focusing on the warmth that you felt when Matt squeezes your hand back. Opening your eyes, you turn to your right briefly, noticing a single tear rolling down Matt's cheek - so different from the sobbing beside you from Foggy and Karen. You glance at your hands tightly pressed together, so almost perfectly fitting, and only now realize just how close he was standing from the beginning.

Father closes the Bible, and a quick glance at Matt and you, answers his questions. The way you looked at him told a million things, but most importantly, it told Father that Matt's feeling were not one-sided.

***

"I've been such an asshole to her the first time we met." You scoff, hiding your face behind an almost empty whiskey glass. Foggy and Karen share a look, one that you wouldn't be able to decipher, even if you noticed it in the first place. "I guess they really turn you into a robot in HCB."

"Well, I know for a fact that people turn worse in Landman and Zack." Matt replies, drinking as well. If tonight was about drowning sorrows, he was making sure he fulfilled that.

Karen turns her face towards the TV and her eyes widen immediately. Foggy nudges your elbow, making you turn to look at the screen, and the need to throw up returns again. "Hey, Josie, could you turn that up?"

"No, I never had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Cardenas. I only recently took possession of her building." Fisk blabbers on the screen again, and you notice Wesley standing behind him. How the hell did the press find out about Elena so quickly?

"How do you respond to reports that you knew the tenement was unsafe?" A reporter asks, but Fisk doesn't move a single muscle in protest.

"That is accurate." He replies, taking a pause after the sentence. "That's why we offered a substantial sum to Ms. Cardenas and her neighbours. To help them relocate." He looks around at all the press, Wesley scanning the crowd like a hawk. "We should never let good people get swallowed up by this city. I mourn this woman's death."

You loudly scoff to yourself, and the whole table of Nelson and Murdock find themselves internally agreeing with you.

"Didn't have to happen. It should've..." Fisk's words get interrupted by Foggy's ringing phone. "Her passing is a symptom of a larger disease..." Foggy fishes his phone and leaves the table. "- infecting all of us. Disease of fear..." The TV glitches for a couple of times, only pieces of sentence are heard. "...fear of bombings, fear of cop killings. Fear of a masked psychopath."

Matt feels his blood boiling in his alcohol-filled veins.

"We shouldn't let people like that take our city from us. We need to stand together. Let them know that they will fail... because we believe we can make a difference." Fisk's words make you wonder if he has learned the speech beforehand and if Wesley wrote it. After all, he was doing all the butt-kissing. " 'Cause they are cowards! Afraid of stepping out of the shadows. Afraid of standing up for people like Mrs. Cardenas."

"Mr. Fisk, how does this affect the upcoming benefit?" Someone behind the camera shouts.

Wesley steps up into the spotlight, "That will be all. Thank you." Hearing his voice again after days of radio silence caused your anger to spike up. "No more questions."

"What can we do about this psycho..." another man begins, only to be cut short by a commercial break.

"Jesus, he almost sounds like he means it." Karen is the first one to break the silence.

"I think he does." Matt answers shortly.

Karen scoffs, "And he's calling the man in the mask a psycho?" With this one, you agreed. The man in the mask was a psycho to you, and Karen's enthusiasm to constantly talk about how great he is, sometimes made you think that she was madly in love with the vigilante. "I hope they trace what happened to Elena right to his doorstep."

"He'd never expose himself like that. Plus, half the force is probably in his pocket. Well, then, let's pray the Mask gets his hands on him. Knocks his goddamn head off."

"You religious, Karen?" Matt suddenly asks, but the topic doesn't pick up your attention.

"My parents were. That's probably why I'm not. You?"

"Catholic." Matt answers shortly. You receive a fresh whiskey glass and down it in one go, relaxing your muscles when it burns your throat.

"Does it help? With things like this?"

"Not today." Matt moves his lips slighly, which looks like a half of a grin. "I think I've had enough. Tell Foggy I'll see him in the morning." You pick up Matt's last words and turn to look at him already getting up to leave.

"Wait, I'm going too." You gently stop him by grabbing his wrist and his whole body goes stiff.

"Hey, Matt. If there is a God and if he cares at all about about any of us Fisk will get what he deserves." Karen says to Matt while you pull out a 100 dollar bill and give it to Josie. "You have to believe that."

"I do." He replies, still lingering next to the table while you put on your coat.

"Tell Foggy..." you begin, sliding your hand on Matt's elbow a little too comfortably for Karen's liking, but she just puts you down for being drunk, "tell him nothing, I'm an independent woman. Lights out!" You say and quickly disappear in the street.

Matt says nothing. His mind was occupied by other things, until you decided to grab a taxi together, but eventually agreed to swing by his place. Why? Because Matt insisted on ordering a takeout, adding "I don't think you ate proper food today at all" in a fatherly tone.

***

Foggy's new case was interesting for about 30 minutes, while you two shared a huge pizza. The whole time you avoided acknowledging the obvious, not talking about Elena or Fisk at all costs. Before Matt introduced beer to the conversation, which got you quite tipsy and relaxed; if you're not counting the alcohol consumed at Josie's. At first it was light talk, jokes, giggling and laughing, trying to lighten up the sour mood, until you felt your stomach hurt, but then, as usual, the conversation turned to more serious topics.

Matt spins the bootle in his hand lazily, legs stretched out on the coffee table, as the laughter dies, his face becomes serious, maybe even curious and you wait for his question. "So, what was that thing with you and Karen?"

"What thing?"

"The thing... You know... Shouting one."

"Oh, that." You take a long sip of the beer, trying to delay answering for as long as possible. "I just don't like others in my business, that's all."

"Why's that?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Well it's quite a long story... But in short, some guy almost fucked up mine and Pug's internship."

"Don't leave me hanging now." He shoots a shy grin.

"Well, we got lucky with that internship, very lucky actually." You sigh, stretching your legs on Matt's coffee table as well. "And Dave was there too."

"Oof, I hate Dave already." Matt huffs a laugh, "wait, who's Pug?"

"My college best friend. So, anyway, we basically won the lottery with our internship at Latham & Wakins, this is still one of the best law firms in LA, and only very few students get to intern there. Of course, our professor wanted to send as many students as he possibly could to the firm, mainly caring about his own reputation as the best prof in the whole university, but I know that he also wanted us to succeed. So Pug and I, we get internships, we're over the moon, we go out, drink like there's no tomorrow, and then we bump into one guy from our classes." You clear your throat, taking a sip again.

"Dave, right?" Matt asks, with slow movements loosening his tie.

"Yeah. So he's a total shit-talker, we're absolutely wasted, and somehow he talks us into getting him into Latham & Wakins. Next day, we go to the offices, they walk us around, introduce us to the bosses and blah blah, and this fucker, he befriends our boss. Not only befriends, he sleeps with her." You raise your eyebrows for a dramatic effect.

"No way." Matt lets out a laugh, going to bring more beer, still paying attention to your talk.

"Guess what happened then. He takes all of our cases. Our prof starts getting angry, he calls the firm's boss, I remember this, we were smoking outside his office when he made the call. So, he calls her, he's like 'my two brightest students are interning at your firm, and three weeks later you still haven't given them a case?'. I have no idea what's happening on the other side of the phone, but our prof is just pissed, he smokes two cigarettes during the whole phone call time, and let me tell you, the guy hasn't smoked in 20 years. He says that he fixed it and we can return to Latham & Wakins. We go there the same day, and we still don't get a fucking case. At this point, I'm fuming, I barge right into our boss's office, and there was Dave. Fucking her on her desk."

"No-" Matt gasps, handing you a new bottle and sitting a bit closer on the sofa than before.

"I wanted to forget that image for years, and I still can't." You shiver dramatically. "They catch me and Pug in the parking lot, beg us to not expose them and promise that we will get all the best new cases. Of course, we agree, holding it against them that we can and will expose their little affair if it's necessary, because she was a married woman. All's good, we get full marks for our internship, we get paid more than we could've imagined, but just as we step out with our internship documents, we call our prof, and expose that bitch."

"She got fired?"

"Not only that, she's suspended from practising law for five years, and Dave was kicked out of university as soon as he returned."

"That's one hell of a ride." Matt laughs. "Now it kind of makes sense."

"Pug's the only person I trust with my work, he doesn't seek glory at the cost of others."

"What about me?" Matt's lips perk up into a smirk.

"You don't seem like the Dave-type." You smile warmly, noticing the distance between the two of you. "Although, I don't know you long enough to check that out."

"Not long enough? It feels like ages since I beat you in court."

"Yeah, and now I work for you." You laugh, earning another smile from Matt.

Matt suddenly changes the topic, "You know what Elena told me one time when you stepped out to smoke?" This immediately gains your attention.

"What?"

"She said that she has never seen someone so in love, but then there were you." His lips twich slightly. "But it sounded way better in Spanish."

"Why did she tell you that?" You smile, slightly furrowing your eyebrows. Being drunk right now was no help at all.

"She wanted me to know that since... you know, I can't really see those things."

"Oh." You sigh, not pulling your eyes away from Matt, "She was a very smart woman."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, she wasn't wrong." You blurt out, covering your mouth with your hand.

Matt stretches his hand out, his fingers brush against yours, and he gently takes your hand, touching your nails. "What color are they?" He softly asks, scooting closer.

"My nails?" You ask, trying to hide your surprise that he left with his touch. He nods, expectantly. "Red."

"Red like what?"

You furrow your eyebrows momentarily, but then you understand exactly what Matt meant. "Uh, it's dark red, almost like a chilli pepper or... Blood." His touch makes your head dizzy. "Or your glasses. I hate when you wear them." Feeling bold out of the blue, you take off his glasses, "your eyes are very pretty."

"Can I do something?" Matt asks, turning the talk away from himself once again.

"Depends."

#matt murdock #foggy nelson #marvel daredevil #matt murdock x reader #netflix daredevil #bound by law #matts superhearing complicates things for you #lawyers #daredevil #marvel #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil x reader #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock #matt murdock x you

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speckle-meow-meow · 3 months

Note

Hello! I hope you're doing fantastic today!

I just stumbled across your blog while scrolling, and have to say I'm totally in love with your work and writing! I don't know if it's possible, but would I be able to request something? ( Sorry if it's not okay, I understand completely )

I saw that you were talking about the lack of Anton Ego content on Tumblr. Might I please request romantic headcanons for him, no NSFW? Again, feel free to ignore this if it's not okay, and sorry for bothering you.

OMG YES! Thank you! There is a HUGE lack of content for him.

Anton Ego the man of many critics

Anton never considered him a romantic

He always kept to himself and rarely ever tried to make connections with people. That was until you --A foodie like himself-- came along

Critic!Anton

He's cold and stoic but a bit soft with you

Sometimes you join him on his foodventures as you like to call them

Whenever you do he takes your opinion somewhat seriously, for example if you said: 'This steak looks (Strange/Under cooked/Overcooked/ETC) he'll take it into consideration and write it down before calling the waiter over and request a new food item.

Being with him means you need to have good taste (Lies.)

If you're a cook yourself expect some constructive criticism whether you request it or not, it's the workaholic in him.

He's not one for interviews or public talks unless necessary, he doesn't exactly like paparazzi; but it's not like he can stop them.

Every once in a while a group of cameramen/women will pop out and ask him questions and snap pictures, he doesn't mind it although it is irritating. But if you're with him and are very bothered he'll try to shield you and excuse you and him.

Not a huge fan of affection in public or at home but give him time.

Post Critic!Anton

Now that he's out of his shell he's more open to affection and words of praise.

Again if you're a cook or a baker he'll shower you in praise and encourage you to follow this passion, maybe even help you open up a shop.

Paparazzi is still an issue and a bit more than before due to Gusto's restaurant rating and like in a previous headcanon he will shield you and try to escape them.

He likes to take you out.

(Alright! Thank you anon for requesting this! it was a joy to write! I was going a bit overboard with the writing but I had to delete it all due to it sounding too much like a fic and not headcanons. I have it saved so if ya'll want me to post it. Anyways! Hearts, reblogs, comments, and questions are always allowed and highly encouraged!!!)

#x reader #gender nuetral reader #fluff #anon asks #anton ego x reader #Anton Ego #ratatouille x reader #disney x reader #disneys ratatouille #disney #disney pixar #pixar ratatouille #Love me the lanky food man

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stell404 · 1 year

Text

𝗜. 𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗢𝗡𝗠𝗬

(𝗧𝗪𝗢 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗟𝗗𝗦 𝗔𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧)

🎧

next (WIP) | back to navigation Parings: Sully family x reader, aonung x reader Word count: 947 Notes: Hope ya'll like this!! I had an AMAZING time at writing this 🤭 this is gonna be a short series, like really short, 2 - 3 parts only so i did not bother to make a masterlist for this This was supposed to be out like a few days ago but lorre was not back yet and i wanted her to be here for when i post it so like i postponed it😭 Taglist: @lorre-verie @eywas-heir @graysonmalik2550 @dreamyescapesfromreality @zeroqueen0555 @oreilyauto @gamerxpfighter @sweetdayme4427

🎧

The first time [Name] saw Aonung was when they first arrived in Awa'atlu in search of a home.

When she first set her eyes on the Metkayina boy, her heart raced, butterflies flew around her stomach. Her entire world flipped. It was his eyes, his blue dazzling eyes, eyes the same color as the deep majestic ocean, eyes the same color as the endless blue sky.

Training started, and every passing day, [Name] fell deeper and deeper into the endless pit of love Aonung had led her to.

Aonung, Tsireya, and some other Metkayina children taught the Sully kids how to ride an Ilu yesterday.

The Ilu is a large, plesiosaur-like sea creature. It had black top with colorful orange splotches around its body, and white underbelly. It was truly a majestic creature.

Her siblings got in in a few tries that day, but she just couldn't. No matter how many times she tries, she still can't.

Aonung had offered his whole day to teach her to ride one, and of course, she gladly accepted this.

It was around the afternoon, the eclipse would come in a few hours; and yet, they were still here.

"Do it again." Aonung said, helping [Name] get back on her feet cause, as expected she fell off, again.

"I don't know...maybe this just isn't for me, I'm better with an Ikran," she replied back with a saddened expression. She wanted to learn, really, but for some reason she can't. It was like something was holding her back to giving it her best, was it her old home? The feeling she is betraying her clan? She doesn't know. But there is something.

"You're scared, aren't you?" he asked.

"What?"

"You're scared," he paused thinking of the right words to say, "you feel like you're betraying your old clan by learning our ways. You're being held back by the fear of fully leaving the Omatikaya clan behind, is that it?"

[Name] said nothing. Was that really the reason?

"Come on." he spoke again, putting her back to her feet and calling the Ilu back.

"Maybe we should try again tomor—"

"Pretend it's a Pa'li," he cut her off. [Name] was taken aback, how did he know that creature?

"What?"

"Pretend it's a Pa'li, You guys have that right? They are similar to Ilus so approach the Ilu like a Pa'li, not like an Ikran."

She did as she was told, sitting on it like she would a Pa'li.

"Great now go slowly, you don't need to be fast," he spoke with a gentle and encouraging voice, [Name] couldn't help but flutter at his tone. Her heart beating rapidly as he put his hand on her thighs, near and knees, and the other rubbing her shoulder.

Again, she did as she was told. She made the bond and instructed it to move slowly. She had started to speed up as soon as she got the hang of it.

"This is amazing!" she beamed.

Aonung got on his Ilu as well, following her. They rode for a minute, their Ilu's playing around.

As they began to slow down, Aonung led his Ilu beside [Name]'s. "I know a spot, come on." he uttered.

[Name] hesitantly followed him as he led her somewhere further than she's ever been to.

"Here we are," he said, stretching out the 'r'. He had led them to a big rock in the middle of the sea.

"Come on," he said, helping her up to the top of the rock.

As she reached the top, her mouth gaped in awe. You could see everything here.

She sat at the edge—facing the island—and Aonung sat beside her. Comfortable silence surrounded them, they just sat there, watching as the sun started to set, painting the sky a beautiful orange color with light pink clouds splattered all over.

"So, how'd you know that?" she began.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"The Pa'li, how'd you know about them?"

"Oh, I read," he paused, thinking of what to say, "I read...I read books about Pandora, the other lands, the clans, everything. There's a book there about the Omatikaya, your people...and other clans as well"

"I want to explore the world, that's why I read, they help me see the world, it makes me feel free—if that makes sense." he added

"I can take you on my Ikran if you want," she offered, "you can see a lot when you're flying, I often feel trapped and flying makes me feel free." she said, looking over at the boy beside her with a small smile painted on her face.

"I'd love that." he said, smiling back.

This had become a daily thing for them, they would meet at this rock at this exact time. More often than not they would stay until after the sun sets, looking up at the stars, thinking about the vast world above them.

Her siblings noticed her absence, and they knew what was causing it; Aonung.

Their siblings felt a tinge of distaste towards their sister's feelings for the Metkayina boy. Especially Lo'ak. How could his sister, his beloved, brave, smart, adventurous, little twin sister, be so deeply in love with that...that boy! She never told him but somehow, someway he already knew.

Though Aonung has always made snarky remarks or comments towards her siblings, she still can't help but to fall more and more in love.

Not long after this Aonung had started to fall as well. She used to seem so...plain to him. But it was like his world flipped, recently he had caught himself staring at her. The way her hair flows in the water, her amber eyes glistening under the sun, it had all started happening rapidly, like a strong magnet pulling him near before he could even notice.

#aonung x reader #ao’nung x reader #aonung x y/n #aonung imagine #ao’nung x y/n #ao’nung x you #aonung x sully!reader #sully family x reader #avatar x reader #avatar: the way of water #atwow #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #dearstell

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of-twilight-and-moonshadow · 6 months

Text

Not Even If You Tried - Darby x Emery

I alluded to this last night. Here it is.

My heart-wrenching dream-turned-chapter that spiraled at the beginning into something else (thanks to the Bucks).

Part of my series ' Dark Angel of the Bullet Club '

Word Count: 3,802

Warnings: Swearing, dark thoughts and spiraling/depression-like moment (briefly). Matt and Nick are assholes. Darby's precious. And tooth-rotting fluff at the end. (as demanded by Kat to make up for the tears this will probably cause ya'll)

Also, I allude to another chapter that I am currently writing -- ironically, another Darby x Emery one -- where he helps her get control over the Dark Angel and Sinister Angel personalities. Obviously, it worked. lol There is also a part I allude to Emery having previously hurt Matt and Nick? It's a part of the same fic (as mentioned above, Darby x Emery) where it explains that. Basically, it was due to Sinister having come out-- and Sinister doesn't care if friend or foe, she'll fuck shit up.

Tag List: @katries @rainries @mrsmatt @summertimefun1982

(divider)

To say she was lost was an understatement. No, make it the understatement of the year- and for fucks sake, it was only March. Lost, hurt, confused – even a bit angry. Those were the emotions swirling about Emery, especially over the last month. With everything going on between her friends—and people she thought were her friends—there was zero time or room for her to focus on her own matches. Now sitting at a record of 2 wins and 3 losses, Emery was almost certain she wouldn’t see a title picture any time soon.

Strangely enough, it didn’t bother her too much. Not having to worry about a title shot left her with time to worry about her friends, and lately, that was a full-time job itself. But the more she worried about them, the more she wondered if that was the right thing to do. With the building worry over those she held dear, the more her anxiety and panic rose. Thankfully—with Darby’s help—Emery had been able to successfully keep control over both Dark and Sinister. Now, she need not worry about one of those personalities taking over her soul and she could go about her life, her matches, her own way.

“I need some air,” Emery sighed, standing up from the table in catering. Kris and Willow looked up at her, faces full of worry.

“You gonna be good?” Kris asked.

“Want us to come with? We totally can-“ Willow offered, giving a soft smile.

“No, no—I—“ Emery breathed, wrapping her arms around her midsection, “I’m okay, don’t worry. I just need a moment to collect my thoughts…”

“Alright,” nodded Kris.

“We’re here if you need us,” Willow added.

Feeling the lump in her throat, Emery could only give the two a brief nod before turning and walking through the back halls. As much as she appreciated their kindness and worry- right now, Emery just desperately wanted her friends. Her familial friends. Ones she had relied on since she came into the business. Ones that—

“Emery! Just the girl we were looking for.”

Speak of some of the devils.

Slowly turning around, Emery watched as Nick and Matt walked up to her, clad in some new outlandish colored suits, ridiculous hats to match.

“Something I can do for you, Nick? Err—Nicholas.”

The pointed glare from both of them at the name usage quickly morphed into almost forced smiles as Matt waved his hand dismissively.

“We won’t hassle you about the name thing—this time,” Matt winked as if it were some joke between them.

“But now that you asked—yeah, there is something we need,” Nick smirked deviously, “Coffee. You know what we like. Here’s a fifty. Get yourself something while you’re at it, our treat!”

“Yeah, those bags under your eyes? Looks like you could use the caffeine,” Matt continued, laughing along with his brother.

“You’re turning me into an errand girl? For some---coffee?!” Emery asked incredulously, her hands falling to her sides.

“Um, yeah? Look—we’re busy here, trying to improve the show- the company. It desperately needs it, too. So do us a favor—get the coffee,” Matt shrugged, throwing in, “Maybe, when you get back, we can discuss putting you in a Champions Eliminator match. See if you can even win that.”

Emery was at a complete loss for words. These two were like brothers to her. They had been there since the get-go. Helped train her--- after Kyle, of course. Not once had they ever used her as an errand girl or a bag handler.

“We’ll be in our office when you get back,” Matt said as he walked off, sliding his hands into his pant pockets.

“Try not to take too long,” Nick chuckled, reaching up with his hands and gently patting her cheeks a few times, before following after his brother.

He did not just---

Emery stood there, shaking as she felt the anger in her rising from her toes all the way to her head.

I can take care of them, whispered Sinister, who clawed at the opportunity to come out and play.

Shaking her head, Emery balled up her fists—the fifty dollar bill in her right-hand crumpling.

No. Matt and Nick were still in there. They were still the guys she loved. She would not hurt them—not again.

No.

Quickly, without thought, Emery turned and bolted down the halls, heading to the only person she had left right now.

Darby.

Despite all the shit that had gone down the last two months between the Bucks, Darby, and Sting- Emery was relieved that Darby still let her into his life. It would have been all too easy for him to turn his back on her, the “Bucks Little Sister” as she had become known over the years. The thought reminded her of when Yuta had turned his back on her and it sent a sharp pain through her heart. Shaking it off, Emery rounded a corner and saw the locker room that he should be in. Upon knocking, though, and a quick peek in, she saw it was empty.

With a sad sigh, Emery looked down at her hand where the money was still crumpled up.

“Guess I’m going for coffee.”

Thirty minutes later, the brunette walked in through the parking area, holding a to-go container with three coffees. Maybe Matt was right. Maybe the coffee would help her. With everything going on, it had been difficult for Emery to get a decent night's sleep. Usually, she’d snuggle up to Kenny or Hangman- or Riley, if he was ever in the same town as her. However, Hangman had been having his own issues with Swerve as of late and completely losing his mind. Kenny—with the injuries and emergency surgery…. Well, Emery didn’t want to bother him too much. Plus, she was constantly out on the road while Kenny was back home. Even her best friends (aptly named) Orange and Chuck were cuddle buddies of hers, but they, too, have had a lot going on. Emery had debated messaging them a few times, but each time she would be about to hit the ‘send’ she’d hesitate, feeling like she was bothering them. The messages would end up deleted, and Emery would suffer another night of restless sleep.

Lost in thought, Emery wasn’t aware of the pale blue eyes on her- until he stepped in front of her path, cutting her off with a soft smirk.

“Hey,” was Darby’s simple introduction.

Stopping short so that she didn’t run into him, not wanting to spill the coffee all over his shirt, Emery focused her attention and looked into his eyes. The second she did, giving their eyes a moment to read each other, his smile fell as he picked up on something wrong.

“Hardy said he saw you come to my room a bit ago— sorry I wasn’t in. Had to go to the ring to do a promo. You good?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah- yeah, no. I’m…. good.” Emery nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat and looking away from his gaze. A gentle finger hooked under her chin and brought her eyes back to his as Darby studied her closely. His thumb gently brushed her cheek, his own way of showing her affection. A brief moment of silence passed between them until he pulled away and looked down at the coffee in her hands.

“All for you?” Darby questioned, raising an eyebrow, “Thought you needed to take it easy on coffee—the shakes and shit that caffeine was giving you?”

“Yeah, no—uh…. This one is mine… decaf,” Emery told him, carefully shifting her hands to use a thumb and pointing to one of the cups.

“And the other two?”

“M-Matthew and Nicholas gave me some money to get them—”

“They sent you on a fuckin’ coffee run?” Darby interrupted, raising an eyebrow once again, before rolling his eyes with a scoff, “Fuck that shit.”

Darby reached up and pried Emery’s cup out of the holder before easing the four-cup holder out of her hand and replacing it with her cup of coffee. Wordlessly, he turned around and walked over to the large garbage can in the hall, unceremoniously dropping the two coffees into it with a satisfied smirk.

“They can get their own damned coffees—just like they used to,” Darby said as he walked back over to Emery, who stood there with a shocked expression on her face. As upset as she wanted to be—looking at him to scold him for the waste—she found herself gently smiling instead, catching the look of mischief written across Darby’s face.

“Now that you’re not laden down with extra coffee—you wanna come out to my place this weekend? Planning to do a bonfire, probably do some skate stunts – and I could use a beautiful model for some new Hoodlum merch,” he smirked playfully.

“You shameless flirt,” Emery chuckled, “Your honeyed words won’t work on me that easily. What else you got?”

“Mmm, playing hard to get, eh? Okay---” Darby licked his lips, “The puggles would love to see you again. Pretty sure the lil’ guys miss you more than they do me.”

“Bonfires and puppy dogs!? Sold!”

“Oh- so you want to see the dogs and not me, eh? I see how it is,” he recoiled playfully before turning solemn and adding, “At least I know that they’ll be cared for if something happens to me next month.”

Instantly, the blood ran cold in Emery’s veins as she realized what Darby was alluding to. His climb on Mount Everest.

“Darby—do you really have to do this? I mean—you’re pretty banged up—”

Before Darby could respond, though, his eyes flickered over Emery’s shoulders as distant voices got louder.

“—when that would be--- Ah! Emery, there you are!” Matt’s voice rang out, stopping just behind her. She could tell by Darby’s narrowed and emotionless eyes that the Bucks were staring him down. A tense moment passed before he looked at her again, giving her an apologetic shrug.

“I’ll catch ya later.”

With that, Emery felt the brief warmth she had gained five minutes previous leave her as Darby walked away. The further he walked, though, the more her thoughts began to race, and she could feel the panic starting to tighten around her lungs, her heart beginning to race.

What if he doesn’t come back? What if he gets on that plane to go to the Himalayas but doesn’t get on the return plane? What if something comes up and she’s not able to make it to his place this weekend—and she can’t see him next week on the show—and this is the last time she sees him? What if---

“—our coffee?” Nick’s distant voice was asking, but Emery wasn’t able to pay any attention to the words. The cup of coffee that was in her hand was plucked out of her grip, to which she was barely aware of. The snapping of fingers in front of her face finally brought her out of her spiral and as she turned around she saw Matt’s look of disgust as he spat out the sip of coffee he had taken from her cup.

“Eck, that’s terrible!” he exclaimed, before tossing it in the same garbage can that Darby had dumped theirs.

“We see you got coffee—what happened to ours?” Nick asked her.

“Sorry it… spilled… on the way here….”

“Spilled?” Matt questioned, disbelieving and with a look of disappointment on his face. “So you didn’t go back and get a replacement?”

Emery’s mind was still reeling with the thoughts of losing Darby, so she couldn’t even muster up an answer to him.

“Jeez Emery,” Nick rolled his eyes, “Worst intern ever.”

“Yeah—forget about that championship eliminator match,” Matt waved his hand as if shooing away a bug.

“You know what, Matthew? I’m feeling a little peckish,” Nick stated, looking at his brother.

“Now that you mention it- I could use a bite to eat. Emery—”

“Get it yourself.”

The simple statement that fumbled from her mouth stopped both brothers in their tracks.

“Excuse us?”

“Do you remember who you’re talking to here? We’re the EVP’s—”

“Oh my God—shut up—just SHUT UP!” Emery exclaimed, finally fixing her gaze on them. Both of their eyes had gone wide in shock at her outburst, but something in her had snapped. Emery didn’t care, though; she was done.

“What the hell happened to the two of you, huh?! You go away for a couple of months and then come back all high and mighty—” Emery gestured towards them and their suits, “—I am your Goddamn friend—the person you claimed as a sister as far back as 2017—and you’re treating me like absolute shit right now! Don’t you see I have enough going on right now?! I don’t need this! My whole life—for the past 6 months—feels like it has been slowly crumbling down around me, and two of the people that are usually always there for me have been nowhere to be found!”

The longer she vented her frustrations, the more her eyes welled up with tears that she desperately tried to hold back, but at some point, it became too much, and they began to roll down her face.

“I don’t know what has gotten into you two—but I can NOT deal with this right now! I—I’m done—I--- Find someone else to fetch your damn food and your damn coffee. Hell—find--- find someone---” Emery felt her throat trying to close up, a part of her begging her not to say the words she was about to, but they still fell from her lips, “—Find someone else to be your sister—!”

A ragged gasp of air escaped her throat as she turned on her heels and blindly raced away, the tears falling freely from her eyes and clouding her vision. The Bucks stood there, flabbergasted at what had just transpired.

“Matthew—”

“No, no. It’s okay. She’ll be fine, Nicholas,” Matt shook his head, trying to convince not only his brother but himself, “Just… give her some time.”

Maybe she would be better off without them, a part of him wondered before they turned in unison back down the hall and disappeared.

Two hours later, Emery sat in the shower stall of her hotel room, knees up to her chest as the water cascaded down around her. Kris had found her outside the arena, leaning against a brick wall, cheeks stained with tears- and wordlessly helped her up into her rental. All Kris asked her was if she needed a doctor- to which Emery slowly shook her head no. Upon getting into her room, she had aimlessly stood in the center for a while before slowly peeling off her clothing and getting into the shower.

Her mind felt like it was racing—but it was blank. Painfully blank.

She had attempted to clean herself, but all the energy had left her, so instead, she slumped down to the floor and just sat there.

She had no one now…..

Everyone was gone…..

For the first time in ten years, she was alone…..

Her thoughts began to turn dark and she could feel herself crawling towards that dark rabbit hole. A familiar feeling…. A painful…. Scared feeling….

Call…. Call them….

Call who?

Matt and Nick?

They didn’t care…. She had burned that bridge now….

As she sat there, the water began to soothe her in its own tranquil way. A single image flashed across her mind. One person.

Go.

“I--- I cant…. Lose him…. I—”

Go.

The persistent desire and need to be near him started to slowly uncloud her mind. Her arm slowly reached up and turned off the faucet. Carefully, Emery pushed herself off the slick tile floor and reached for a towel. The more she focused on him, the clearer she began to think—which let her think back to all the small moments shared between them. He was chaos and untamed fearlessness- but at the same time, he calmed her racing mind, brought peace to her dark thoughts. He helped her be a better person—made her want to be a better person.

Without him…. Where would she be?

Twenty minutes later, hair still dripping wet, Emery stood in the hall outside of another hotel room. It was mostly silent around her—and for a moment, she thought perhaps he had already gone to bed—but then in the near distance, she heard the soft sounds of water shutting off.

Pausing for only a minute longer, Emery finally reached forward and gently knocked on the door in front of her. Movement could be heard from within, before the sliding of a lock and then the door slowly opening.

“Hey, out late---” Darby began to smile, but it faltered as his eyes raked over her. Wordlessly, he reached out a hand and took hers, gently pulling her into the room with him, shutting the door behind Emery.

Darby’s mouth opened as he attempted to say something, but what could he say? He didn’t want to say the wrong thing and make whatever was wrong worse.

“H-how can I help?” he finally whispered.

Emery looked up from the floor, finally looking into his eyes as her own teared up once more.

“Hold me,” she choked out as the tears fell down her face. Without hesitation, Darby reached out for her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. The warmth from his shirtless chest brought a wave of calm to her. Laying her head in the crook of his neck, her arms folded up between them as his drew soothing circles on her back. It was everything she didn’t realize she needed.

“I—I’m here.”

That simple phrase, meant to help soothe her—actually broke her heart more, and she pulled away from him. Confusion crossed his features as he looked at her with his blue eyes.

“…. But you won’t be….. You’ll be gone…. Climbing a mountain….. a dangerous…. Life-taking mountain….. Why? Why do you have to do this?”

“Why not?” Darby responded, “Mer—you know me. You now how I am. I do dangerous stupid shit all the time. You watched me drive a small ass trike with a fractured arm. It’s just…. Who I am.”

Emery wrapped her arms around her abdomen and walked past him into the room, trying to hold back more tears.

“I just….” She whispered, a few stray tears falling down her face, “I don’t think you understand…. how scared I am of losing you….”

Darby felt his lungs constrict as he looked at her, an unfamiliar lump forming in his throat.

“I—I’ll be back… before you know it. Besides, you’re not here alone. You’ve got friends to keep you busy.”

“Do I?!” Emery questioned, her voice breaking as she spun around to face him. The look of pure heartache he saw in her expression hit him hard.

“Darby--- you…. You are all I have right now. Kenny’s out for who knows how long…. Hangman has done lost his mind—the Bucks have turned into people I don’t recognize anymore--- Wardlow’s turned into someone I don’t know….. Adam’s changed--- Kyle’s got no return in sight…. Yuta’s---” Emery’s voice broke upon bringing up her one-time friend; squeezing her eyes shut briefly, she continued, “Orange and Chuck will be out with their injuries for a while…. Britt’s been gone for a while with no return in site--- You. You are all I have--- and…. And I’m terrified I could lose you…. Permanently. I don’t…. I don’t think I could stomach that--- I’d be lost…. Without you…. In my life.”

The tears were falling freely once more- and for the first time in a long time, Darby was completely lost for words. To think he had this kind of impact on anyone… wasn’t something he thought would ever happen. He closed the distance between the two of them, one hand wrapping around Emery’s waist, the other going behind her head, his fingers threading through her hair. Without thinking about it, her arms snaked around him and pulled him close—but she felt him tense up and a small huff of air leave his nose.

That’s when she realized.

“Shit—your stitches—!” Emery cried apologetically, attempting to pull back from Darby, but he held fast to her, not letting any space come between them.

“I don’t fuckin’ care about the stitches, Mer—” he breathed out a chuckle, “I care about you. Wrap your arms around me. Now. Tonight. For the next couple weeks. Remember me.”

Shakily, her arms gently wrapped around his back once more, as he leaned his head down into the crook of her neck; his warm breath tickled her as he spoke.

“Everest…. It’s a beast—I know the risks, believe me, I know. But this is something I have to do.”

“I—I know there’s no changing your mind… and I don’t want you to resent me for making you stay…. Just, please—promise me…. Promise me you wont do anything reckless on the climb? Just--- carefully climb up, get to the summit, and carefully get back…..”

“I can’t promise that I’ll come back—not alive,” Darby whispered, and as he felt her about to interrupt, quickly continued, “BUT—I can promise you I won’t do anything too reckless while I’m there. Especially…. Especially since you’re waiting here for me to come back…..”

Emery nodded as much as she could against him, before feeling him chuckle against her.

“Besides…. Pretty sure that if I did die up there—you’d hunt down my frozen corpse and kick my ass for doing something reckless.”

As much as she didn’t want to, Emery felt herself let out a few soft laughs of her own. Darby pulled back from her just a few inches and looked into her eyes.

“I don’t care what I have to do—or how I have to do it—I’ll fight tooth and nail to come back. That I can promise you. You ain't getting rid of me, not even if you tried.”

“Good,” Emery softly smiled, leaning into his hands as they cupped her face. His thumbs began to wipe away the tears that had fallen before he leaned in and gently kissed her lips.

“Stay the night?” Darby asked her, a small smile crossing his face at her nod.

That night, Emery slept soundly as she lay curled up in his embrace.

Peacefully.

Her mind was at ease for the first time in months.

#aew #imagine #all elite wrestling #fanfiction #dark angel of the bullet club #oc emery #original female character #Darby Allin #Emery x Darby

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shutupheathersorryheatherr · 1 year

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For you? Always. Anytime

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

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

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

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

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

“whatre you sorry for, pretty boy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

End~

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faegoddessog · 1 year

Text

Seventy Two Hours of Bliss Ch. 33/41

Chapter 33: Overwhelm in the Stars

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, fellatio, fingering, forced orgasm, unprotected PiV( play safy ya'll )

Series Masterlist

Series Summary:

You are neighbors with Austin Butler on the Gold Coast of Australia just prior to shooting Elvis. You become just friends because he is taken. However, after he is single again, you both find out just how attracted you are to one another and things get unrelentingly hot.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, here there be lemons.

Authors Notes: I started writing this while remodeling my kitchen, so that informed the slightly quirky narrative. It starts slow, but once it heats up, it is on fire. I have tried to pull facts from RL as much as I could, but obviously there are some assumptions and flat out dreamy wishes involved here.

Chapter 33: Overwhelm in the Stars

Special thanks to @purejasmine who partially inspired the action in this Chapter!

April turns into May and temperatures start to drop. Which you find bizarre being from the northern hemisphere. But as long as you don’t think about the month, the fall is quite lovely and mild. Restrictions ease, Austin takes to walking the beach, listening to Elvis in his headphones. Sometimes you go with him, holding hands on the relatively deserted beaches. You like to find a spot to paint or read while he wanders for a couple hours. It always makes you giggle to see people’s reaction to him when he is practicing Elvis’ words or sounds. The best one by far was Elvis’ laughter. He was on his way back to you, laughing, stopping, listening, laughing again. As you watched, one guy with a surfboard walked by him, then turned around and gave him the funniest look. You just cracked up, Austin barely noticed at the time, but turned red when you told him about it.

Even though the situation is a bit scary and tedious at times, it has been kind of magical to have Austin all to yourself. Well, you share him with Elvis, but that doesn’t really bother you. Honestly it’s good that he has something to focus on.

You begin to email and text with Rita about her kitchen in Greece, getting roughly sketched floor plans and pictures and researching potential materials and construction regulations for the area. You enjoy planning and sketching all old school with graph paper, cuz you got nuthin’ but time!

June rolls in and, like the rest of the world, you are starting to get restless with the sameness of every day. He still wakes up early, still asks to slide into you often. Sex has been nice, but routine.

He comes out of his office room early one afternoon and firmly shuts the door.

“Kitten, I need a break.” he says seriously, knife-handing for emphasis.

You look up at him from the couch where you are reading a book with big eyes. Does he mean from you? from Elvis? What did you do? What did you not do? What is happening? Your heart is beating in your ears. Why the fuck are you reacting this way?

“I uh… Oh… Okay,” your voice stammers, frightened. Be cool, you said no hard feelings, shit, shit, shit.

“Don’t let me go in that room for like a week,” he says, rubbing his eyes, head down. He has not noticed your panicked reaction.

You feel like a deer in headlights, it takes a few seconds to understand what he said.

He blinks down at you, probably expecting some kind of reaction.

“OH!” you let out a shuddering breath you didn’t realize you were holding, hand partially covering your face, “I thought…. ” your voice sounds so small.

He looks at you in confusion, then realization dawns on his face.

“Oh baby no! Shit I’m sorry hunny! Not from you, not from us, from Elvis!” He closes the gap between you in two long strides, sitting down next to you and pulling you close to him. Tears you didn’t know were holding in spill out.

“I don't want to do this without you, baby,” he strokes your hair as you bury your face in his chest. ”No, no we are good…. Are we good?” he asks, suddenly looking down into his chest at you.

“Stupid inadequacy issues,” you puff out, shaking your head. You look up at his concerned face, with tear streaked cheeks and sniff.

“Oh Kitten, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking. That’s what I mean, I’ve not been thinking about anything other than Elvis for too long. And you’ve been amazing and I’ve just been obsessed. That’s what I need a break from,” his words tumble out, trying to reassure you. His thumb wipes away your tears, he kisses your forehead.

You take a big breath in, blowing it out, nodding your head. Apparently, you hadn't realized how deeply intertwined you two have become, when just the passing idea of him leaving brings you to tears. You are more upset that it affected you like this than you are about the misunderstanding.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I immediately jumped to that conclusion. This whole lockdown thing has me all….” you stick your tongue out to the side and roll your eyes. You look in each other's eyes for the space of two heartbeats. You start sniggering at your own ridiculousness, holding your hand over your mouth. He chuckles and shakes his head, holding you to his chest.

“Oh Kitten, I love you. I feel like I’ve been neglecting you and you’ve been so patient and caring,” he says, “and don’t tell me I’ve not been, cuz it’s how I feel. ”

“Ok,” you say simply.

“I wish I could take you out on a date, or lavish you with gifts or do something big for you right now,” he laments, his fingers rubbing on your forearm.

“Austin, gifts and dates and grand gestures are nice,” you assure him, “but I don’t need them. What I really could use is just some you right now, plain and simple.”

“You got it, Kitten,” he says, tilting your chin up to his mouth. His kiss is sweet and simple and present. You melt into him.

You sit, cuddled up on him for a bit, he is rubbing in long strokes up and down your back.

“How about we get out of here tonight,” he says.

“Ok, where though?” you ponder.

“Let’s pack some food and bring blankets and stuff and just drive until we can see the stars, we just can’t cross the border,” he suggests.

“Yes! I fucking love the stars! Let’s do it!” you sit up, excited for the first time in weeks, and throw your arms around his neck, kissing him hard.

Austin makes PBJ’s and packs some random food into a cooler. You gather pillows and blankets, toothbrushes and a quick change of clothes for both of you. You come out from the 2nd bedroom triumphantly holding a big thermos up high. Austin is filling water bottles and you start heating water to make some hot chocolate. The excitement in the air is palpable.

Thirty minutes later you are pulling out from the underground garage, Austin sitting in the seat next to you for the first time, instead of hiding. Who the fuck cares now anyway, plus no one is hanging around outside anymore anyway.

You insist on using your own non-Elvis playlists for music, Austin agrees, he really does need the break.

You drive west for almost two hours. It is marvelous and freeing to get away. No plan, just driving.

The sun is getting low as you pull up to a picnic area next to Lake Moogerah that is scattered with pavilions. You find one next to the lake and cuddle together on the picnic table, munching on PBJ’s and watching the sunset. You hear some crunching on the gravel behind you. You turn around to see a lady walking her dog towards you.

“G’day, beaut of a sunset yeah?” she says, stopping about 10 feet from you guys.

“Yeah it really is” Austin says.

“Oh yanks are ya, well ya know ya can't park overnight here. Do ya have a place to stay?" she inquires.

"Oh, no we didn’t know, thank you,” Austin is always so polite, ”we might just drive back to the city later, unless you have any suggestions.”

“I have a glampin’ tent just up the road there that’s vacant. It has a heatah and access to the bathroom in the main house, has a queen bed and a minibah. We just got the go ahead to open today. So it’s yours if you want it.”

Austin looks at you eyebrows raised. You are already nodding.

“We’ll be up after sunset then,” he says. She gives you directions and says she’ll meet you there in a half hour.

The tent is amazing. It’s set up just in front of a huge Queenslander rental house, which is where your bathroom is. It opens up to a gorgeous view of the lake and mountains. It is much larger than you expected, clean, warm and comfortable. It has a stocked snack and mini fridge bar and a coffee maker. There are little fairy lights hung inside for soft lighting. There is no one renting the main house tonight, so you can make it really dark for stargazing.

It’s not that cold out, just a chill in the air. Your sweatshirt would suffice, the blankets are just to make it cozier. Austin pulls out the hot chocolate and you snuggle up with your blankets and pillows to watch the stars, sipping the sweet hot liquid.

It’s so odd, because you grew up stargazing with your family, and these are definitely not your stars. You feel like you are on another planet. You open your phone app that helps you find constellations. It is magical, just being together under the stars, feeling so small in the universe, yet also expansive.

You are nerding out, finding several of the southern constellations including the southern cross and Canis major. Trying to point them out to Austin.

“Why does that one look so damn familiar?” you are pointing up. You hold up the phone above your head

“I’m a goofy silly girl! It’s fucking Orion, just upside down! My daddy always said heaven was in the middle star of his belt, see?” you point up then look over at Austin. He is just staring at you with soft eyes in the red glow of the phone.

“I think it’s closer than that,” he says to you.

Your heart swells, then melts.

Like the opposite poles of a magnet your lips are drawn together. Your leg swings up and over his body, bringing your blankets with you. Straddling him on his chair, kissing, hips pressed together. For a few minutes you are just teenagers making out, dry humping on the porch because your parents won’t let you be alone inside. You can feel his bulge through the double layers of jeans.

He pushes you away just a little and reaches down to readjust his hardening cock. The nice thing is, you are not teenagers and no one is trying to restrict your access to this gorgeous man and his willingness to fuck the daylights out of you.

“Why don’t you get that out for me,” you whisper in his ear.

You duck down, between his legs, as he undoes his fly and pulls himself out, lowering his pants down his hips just a little.

While he is doing that, you undo your own jeans under the blankets and manage to wiggle out of them, leaving your soft, stretchy undies on.

Holding him upright, you trace designs with your tongue on his shaft and up to his tip. You lick your lips under the dark blanket. Placing your tongue on the top, you use your lips to massage his tip. Retracting your tongue into your mouth and closing your lips around him, then dragging along his head as you push him out with your tongue. Saliva drips from your lower lip every time you push him out. You hear him groaning on the outside of the covers. You push him in deep, slurping up all the spit you dribbled along his shaft. You ride him with your mouth for a dozen strokes or so.

Then you emerge from under the blankets, kissing him with your wet sloppy mouth. You straddle him again, just below his now hard and exposed cock. His hands land on your bare thighs.

“When did that happen?” he asks, indicating your pants-less state.

“When you were distracted,” you smile.

“Well you are distracting,” he rubs you through the crotch of your panties, soaking your wetness through. He slips his fingers under the fabric, then pulls it aside, dipping his fingers into you.

“Mmmmmmm” a slow lazy moan falls from you.

“Oh Kitten, I’m so sorry I've been neglecting you. I’m gonna make it up to you, promise,” he says, his forehead pressed to yours.

“Austin, you don’t…” you start, but he interrupts you with a kiss and his fingers running circles around your pussy. Fore and middle fingers around your opening, pinky and ring fingers brushing your clit.

It shuts you right up because it feels amazing. Your hips drop forward toward his hand.

“Oh mon Roi, that feels good,” you murmur into his mouth.

His other hand drifts up your shirt and around your back, undoing your bra deftly. His cool fingers trace around to the front. You gasp through your nose since he was still occupying your mouth with his tongue. He rubs along the line where your bra was tight, heightening the sensations that much more. He massages your breast, nipple caught in the crux of his fingers, sending a needle like zing to your core. Still his other hand is steadily working your pussy. The familiar warm glow is building just behind your mons. You lift up, reaching for his cock to slide him into you. He sits up a bit, pulling his hips and mouth away from you.

“Oh no, baby, this is just about you right now,” he says, “look up when you’re close, Kitten, I want you to cum in the stars.”

Damn, how is it that he makes things that could be corny, sound so damn sexy.

“Keep talking Austin, tell me dirty things,” you moan. Your hands are on his shoulders, holding on. You realize there is more light now, the moon is beginning to light up the sky, threatening to rise over the mountains.

“God, I love seeing you worked up just from my fingers playing with your cunt,” his deep voice draws out that last, filthy word, enunciating the /t/.

“I love your long gorgeous fingers,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah? Do you want them inside you?” he almost whispers.

“Uh huh,’ you bite your lip, nodding.

“You want t’ cum on them?” he asks low, licking his lips.

“Please, yes,” you would do anything to have him inside you right now.

He starts pulsing the two fingers at your slit, but not going in. It’s driving you crazy. You try to grind yourself onto them with a closed-mouth pouting moan, but he won’t let you.

“Ah ah ah, baby. Just wait,” he admonishes you.

Pulling his fingers away and bringing them up to his mouth, he licks a long line between his fingers. You watch him like you are lost in the desert and he is the only water. You find yourself diving forward as his tongue reaches his fingertips. You press your open mouth partially to his upper lip, partially to his fingers, your tongues meet and play between his two digits, tasting of your slick. His fingers slide away and you keep kissing him, your hands on his face. You feel him sliding under your panties and along your labia again, wet from both your tongues.

He resumes his pulsing against your opening, still refusing to enter you.

He is pinching your other nipple, mimicking his pulses at the same rate.

You pull away from his face, head tilted up in a pouting whine to the sky. You are trying to be patient, trying to wait, but your body wants him inside you. Your hips rock back and forth, desperate for penetration.

“Oh Kitten, so wanton, wanting me inside you any way you can get me,” he chides, still pulsing at your entrance, “and I want you too, my gorgeous little hussy,” the last he breathes into the night air.

Finally, his pulses start sinking into you, a little further with each one.

“Oh- my- fucking- god,” your voice is rough and breathy with each pulse inside you. You are staring into his eyes.

“Yes, I am your fucking god,” he slides his hand out from under your shirt and to his mouth. His eyes burning sexy, maddening holes into yours in the diffused moonlight. A hint of that dark fae around his edges.

Sticking out his tongue, he slides the pad of his thumb over it. Watching you intently, he slips his wet thumb under your panties and onto your clit with a little roguish smile. He knows how it will affect you.

“Oh god, yes, right there,” your hips are shaking under his ministrations.

His fingers are fully seated inside you now, pulsing still, thumb rubbing in little circles.

“Don’t stop,” you moan.

“Oh, I won’t,” his tone is that of promise and threat.

Moonlight spills over the top of the mountains. Silvery strands of light laying themselves upon you both.

“Your naked skin would look so amazing in the moonlight,” Austin remarks, mostly to himself.

Without a second thought, you pull your sweatshirt and shirt off over your head, your bra tangled in amongst the fabric.

“Oh baby, you’ll get cold,” he says, concerned.

“Then you better keep me w–w-w-w-arm,” you moan out as his fingers find a particularly perfect rhythm. The glow inside you is on the verge of spilling over. You lean back, your hands on his knees, head tilted up. The blankets fall back, the cool night air makes your nipples pucker and your skin pebble. But you barely notice the chill, Austin has you so hot.

“Holy Mother, you are shining, baby,” he breathes.

You move rhythmically, grinding into his hands.

“The light on your throat, on your tits. It’s like the moon herself is cumming on you,” he says.

Fuck, that is a thought you’ve never had. Hot, especially from Austin’s dirty, sexy mouth.

Each push forward into his hand is accentuated with a moaning “ah, ah, ‘ah.” Then you inhale in a gasping breath, holding it in as everything tightens, your hips vibrating against him.

“Fuck yeah Kitten, cum on my lap, cum in those stars,” he urges you on.

It starts deep in your seed center and waves up your spine in a rippling shudder. Even your eyelids shiver as you struggle to keep your eyes open and pointed up. When you finally exhale, it’s in waves. You barely make any other sound to the sky.

You jerk forward, hunched over Austin, hands on his shoulders, pulling your hips away.

“Oh no you don’t dirty girl,” he says. His hands are on your hips, pulling you back to him, “you aren't getting away from me.”

He straightens upright in order to wrap one arm around your low back, hand pressing to keep you close to him. Austin immediately takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking and flicking with his tongue. His other hand is fliplped over, palm down, between you. The backs of his first and middle fingers like snake fangs pointing down on either side of your clit. The tips of those long fingers falling against your inner labia. The sensations go deep as he pushes in and down, in and down, milking your clit. It’s such a small movement with such a big impact.

You rut into his bent knuckles, clenching and releasing your glutes, your thighs, your pelvic floor. Your eyes are squeezed tight, head bowed to his.

“Open those eyes, look up,” he says, switching to the other nipple.

You tilt back, supported by his hand on your back. You do your best to open your eyes. But as his mouth pulls hard at your nipple, you are lifted, tilted over the next edge.

“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod,” you chant. Your eyes close and you are jerking to get your sensitive clit away from his knuckles. Of course, he won’t let you get away. He is always so much stronger than you assume. Holding your hips tight, his hand flips over and rubs light and fast over the surface of your clit. You writhe.

“Oh no, baby, you are gonna keep cumming,” he asserts, unable to keep his mouth on your twitching tits.

He refuses to give you any reprieve. He buries his fingers inside you again, pummeling your pussy with his palm. The switch in sensation is like an upslope that lifts you higher. You freeze, still for a long moment. Holding your breath, you let him finger fuck you hard. Sloppy, wet slapping sounds are the only thing breaking the night's stillness.

You didn’t think you could clamp down any harder, but as everything funnels down to your core, you tighten around his fingers. Your back arches and a high pitched whine careens from your throat. Your pelvis grinds down onto his fingers as your voice modulates low “OH! Fuck me, YES!” His hand drips with your juices.

Austin just chuckles low. “Not yet, Kitten,” he is watching your face as you cum with each dig of your hips.

Your hips come to a full and complete stop as does his fingers. Your ragged breath barely begins to even out. You lean down, hands on either side of his face and softly kiss him.

“Mmm, that was good, baby,” you murmur into his mouth. His hands disengage from your crotch.

He guides you off him, “Turn around,” he says, having made a decision.

You stand up wobbly, blankets and all. Austin takes the opportunity to pull off his jeans and underwear. You are expecting a good hard fuck in the grass as he reaches up and yanks your panties off. But he pulls your hips down to sit between his legs on the chair instead. The blankets spread over you both.

“Lean back and spread your legs, beautiful,” his voice is low and gravely in your ear.

You are not sure how he is going to get off in this position, his cock would be trapped behind your back, not in you.

‘Austin, I’m, I’m done, I’m good, what about you?” you say, turning a little to look at him and reaching for his cock.

“Oh hoh Kitten,” he laughs deviously, his gaze locking onto yours, “ I’m not done with you , I think I owe you a little more,” he pulls you back against him.

“Oh baby, you don’t-” you start trying to assure him once again, but his hand comes under your jaw. Thumb and forefinger spread, pressing just in front of the joint on either side, the rest of his fingers digging into the side of your neck. You gasp, hand going instinctively to his wrist. It’s the closest he’s ever come to choking you, although there is no pressure on your throat. You are immediately putty in his hands.

“Shhhh, Kitten, my darlin’,” he purrs in your ear, “you still haven’t cum in the stars for me. So you are going to take it, and like it and beg me for more until you can’t handle it.”

Your breath comes out in a shudder as your pussy drips. God, his voice, his words, his hands, how is this man possible? You didn’t know that was what you were in for tonight, but you fucking love it.

“Now, spread your legs,“ he says pointedly.

You do, looping your legs over his in the chair. Your wet pussy lips peeling apart under the blanket.

Austin reaches down and starts moving against your already swollen, sensitive snatch.

“There’s my good girl,” he whispers in your ear.

His fingers move in soft circles around your clit. You moan, eyes closing.

“You like it when I play with this pussy, don’t you Kitten,” his voice like honey, dripping onto your neck.

“Oui, mon Roi,” you answer in French.

“Should I have fingered you in the car on the way here?” honey dripping in between your breasts.

“Uh huh,” your other arm reaches up, your hand curling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Oh this pussy is so wet, always so needy,” his fingertips push harder.

“All the time, always for you, mon Roi,” you moan.

“God damn, you make me want you so much,” his hips are pushing against you.

You are flushing with heat, you kick the blankets away, the cool air tingling on your wetness.

“Oh, such a naughty Kitten, you want to be exposed?” his breath hot on your neck, ”anyone could walk around the house and see me fingering you, watch me make you thrash. You would love that, wouldn't you.”

Oh fuck, you didn’t know you had a an exhibitionist kink until this moment. The idea of being watched kicks you up a notch.

“I would,” you moan, nodding.

“What if it was Loki,” he plays to your fantasies, “and I hold your legs open,” he wraps his legs on top of yours, holding them apart, “and let him fuck you, use you,” he disentangles your hand from his hair and pushes your own fingers into your cunt, “just like this, while I rubbed you the way I know you like it.”

Oh. My. God. The idea of a hot Tom Hiddleston with dark hair mercilessly sinking himself into you as Austin holds you. FUCK, that takes you to a whole other level.

“OH Fuck Austin… yes. Yes, YES!!!!” you are crying out, fucking yourself with your own fingers.

You are pushing back against him. His hand tightens on your jaw, holding your head tilted back against his shoulder as he works your clit. His cock, desperate for friction, is working between you, spreading his pre-cum on your low spine.

FUCK YES, It feels so fucking good, being held down by him, being so open to the sky, to the silky moonlight.

You skyrocket into the stars, your eyes shoot open and you are staring at Sirius, the dogstar. For long held seconds you are Sirius, with rays of light shining from your head as you ignite, lighting up the night.

“There she is, my shining girl in the stars,” he is humming in your ear. Jerking, you stop your barrage into yourself. Austin’s hand covers your pussy, pressing softly, soothingly, drops of your cum cooling on your inner thighs.

You get a long breath or two, shaking as you start to think about coming down.

“Thank you Austin,” you say breathily.

“Oh no, don’t thank me yet,” he growls in your ear. Your orgasm-addled brain is confused. Until Austin slaps your pussy, jolting you back to him. It’s not super hard, but it makes you jerk.

“I’m still not done,“

Slap

“Oh, I don’t know if-” you begin.

SLAP!

You gasp.

“What a filthy, naughty girl, to be so turned on by someone else’s cock,” his voice is not angry, but husky with desire.

“I think you like the idea too,” you risk, undulating against his cock, “it’s pretty wet back there.”

Austin’s gruff laugh puffs out with a shake of his head.

“Maybe, as long as I get to reclaim you as mine,” his fingers tighten on your jaw and neck for a long, pointed moment before releasing entirely to slide down to your breasts. His last word rumbles into your brain, sending shivers down your spine

“I’m yours, Austin, all yours,” your voice is light, airy, full of yearning.

“Mmhmmm, yes you are,” he kisses your cheek tenderly.

“Now, tell me you want more,” Slap

“OH,” you squeak and jump. You hadn’t expected it.

“Say it,” he demands. Slap

“Oh- I,” you aren’t sure if you can go more. ‘ Yes you can, you want it and you know it.” your demon says.

“Tell me,” he says through gritted teeth. SLAP

“I want more,” you squeal a little on the last word.

“Say my name.” SLAP

You don’t quite register that this is your out, should you need it until you are saying:

“I want more Austin.” Fuck yeah you do. That bitch.

“What do you want, Kitten?” he prompts you. SLAP

“Spank my pussy ‘till I cum again,” your succubus answers for you before you can think. Oh shit, that was your outside voice.

“Oh, my filthy little insatiable harlot,” SLAP. His voice is full of unmet desire, you know he is just as turned on as you are. His hard cock is throbbing behind your back.

He starts in on your mons, stinging slaps then rubbing your clit fast side to side. The combo is unhinging you.

“Holy shit Kitten, you’ve got me so,” SLAP, “fucking,” SLAP, “hot.“ SLAP. Each stinging smack a little harder than the last. Clearly it’s unhinging him as well.

Flicking light and fast over your swollen nub he growls in your ear “I’m going to fuck you so hard after this, you won’t have to open your eyes to see the stars.” SLAP. SLAP.

You meet each new sting with a gasping moan.

His hips are rutting against your back. You wish he was inside of you.

“Please fuck me Austin, I need your cock,” you whine and moan.

“Oh Hunny, cum for me and I will,” his voice vibrates against your back and into your brainstem. How is he so fucking good? With each flick, each smack, you vacillate between being hungry for more and wanting him to stop.

Immense pressure is building behind your clit with every contact of his hand. You are forced over the brink yet again. You cinch down onto nothing. Every muscle straining You curl and try to close your legs, writhing. But his legs are forcing you to stay open. He continues the actual onslaught of your pussy. SLAP. Rub. SLAP. Flick. SLAP. Rub.

It’s too much, and not enough all at once.

“Nononono,” you are trying to pull his hands away from you, to protect your poor, wanting pussy. He grabs your hands and holds them tight to your belly and keeps rubbing and spanking you. You are struggling against him in the most delicious way.

“Beg me,” he growls in your ear.

“Please, please, stop, Austin, stop,” you whimper weakly.

“I don't think you really mean it,” his chuckle is deep in this chest. He slaps you again, and again, and again. Then his long fingers plunge into your dripping slit, stirring at your g spot. It pitches you into a spiral. Dangling over the chasm in his grip.

You are keening; cumming. You are biting into the meaty part of your own thumb; cumming. You are dripping around his fingers onto the chair; cumming. Cumming so hard, you are bewildered, disoriented and also laser focused on his fingers rasping against you again and again and again. You thought you were cumming before, it’s nothing compared to this. This is celestial devilry made carnal. Only the gods orgasm like this. You feel as much as hear your sweet fluid squirt out of you.

“Please, I can’t, again” you beg, sobbing.

He ignores your plea, raking his hands from back to front in succession along your pussy, fingers digging into your slit as he drags them up, grasping and shaking your mons and clit in his palm at the top. Right. Left. Right. Left. Over and over again, triggering immense aftershocks. Your spine is undulating in time with his raking of you. Your screaming moans modulate with the motion of his hands.

With a final grip and shake on your vulva, he stops. You are still shaking.

“Oh lord baby I need to be in you,” he presses you forward, up and off his lap. You are unable to stand, fuzzy. You ooze onto the blankets that fell on the grass, lying on your back. He is on you in seconds, knees between your legs. You are brought back to sharp focus by his cock sliding into your buzzing pussy.

“Oh my god Kitten, you are so hot around me,” Austin moans.

It is nirvana to be filled with him at last. You wrap your arms and legs around him as he thrusts in and out of you, banging the hell out of you under the night sky. He isn’t holding back, chasing his own release. He is right, you see the stars whether or not your eyes are open.

Holy fuck you’ve never been pushed this far in so many ways. Your tight, clenching pussy feels so full, so stretched by his cock pounding into you. Nerves that have been overstimulated are on the verge of rebelling. Fuck you want him never to stop, and if he doesn't stop you may never recover.

“Come on baby, one more big one for me,” the strain of his lust evident in his low gritty tone. It washes over you and you fracture. Your full throated scream echoes across the lake. You twist, and turn and thrash under him, your whole body contorting in inscrutable pleasure. No, pleasure isn’t right. It’s higher than that, harder, vehement. It rocks the foundations of what you believe to be true. Only the gods fuck like this.

“Ohmigod, my Kitten, fucking mine, all mine,” he underscores each thrust with a word. You are violently shaking under him as he surges into you, every muscle straining.

Finally all motion ceases, you are crying into his shoulder, clinging to him as a touchpoint of reality. You aren’t sure who you are or where you are, only that Austin is here, keeping you from dying.

He lifts off you. Standing. Leaving you in the cold momentarily. You curl around your core, crying in overwhelm. Then you are in his arms, floating. Crying into his shoulder. Being laid in a warm bed with his warm naked body protecting you. Holding you. Petting your head and rubbing your back. Whispering soft words of love. Pressing a water bottle to your mouth as your crying subsides into soft whimpers and then into shaky breaths.

“You are here my love, with me” Austin is saying,” just breathe. I got you.”

...........

You wake up in the morning to sounds of birds outside. Austin is asleep next to you, just where you like him to be. You sneak out to pee and take care of yourself, after last night's worship to Eros, you need a shower.

When you get back, Austin is still snoring. You climb back into bed and cuddle up next to him. You doze. You wake up to the smell of coffee and Austin, also freshly showered, bringing you a cup.

You sit up in bed and gratefully accept it. He sits down on the bed with you, sipping his own cup. He left the tent flap open and you can see across the lake. What a magnificent thing, to have that view while in bed, and this dreamboat of a man next to you. Bringing you coffee nonetheless! “Thank you for last night Austin,” you say, hands wrapped around the white steaming cup.

“You are so welcome, my love,” he says with a smile, obviously feeling like he has ‘made it up’ to you.

…............

As you are leaving, the owner is walking her dog along the road towards you. You stop and roll down the window to thank her for everything.

“I was comin’ to check on ya! Did ya hear that cougar screamin’ last night?” she says concerned, ”it sounded pretty close by.”

“Oh? I don’t think we did,” Austin says a little confused.

“Yeah,” she says, “a month or so ago, one was spotted a bit north of here, but have never heard it before. It were erie, echoed across the lake.”

“Oh, well we are ok, glad we didn’t see it!” you say.

You tell her thank you and that you’d leave a glowing review.

As you are driving away, Austin is shaking his head, “Wow, that is a little scary.”

You burst out laughing.

“What is so funny, we could’ve gotten attacked! Being just in that tent!”

“Oh baby, I’m sorry. That was no cougar she heard, it was me cumming last night. Cougars sound like a woman screaming.”

“No way, you think so?” Austin is smiling realizing the implications.

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard them back home, I would have recognized it.

“Oh my god, that is funny!” Austin joins you in laughing.

#Austin Butler #Austin Butler smut #Austin Butler x reader #Austin Butler fic #Austin butler fanfic #@purejasmine #@slowsweetlove #@richardslady121

19 notes · View notes