#it doesn't seem to matter what day or what time of day i call i cannot get through to a person | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gretagerwigsmuse · 3 days ago

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this was so thorough and sweet, thanks alexa 🥰 i love how you called out that there's a lot happening under the surface! i really want the big reveal next chapter to not seem like it came out of nowhere? it was really intentional on my part that we almost exclusively get his pov on these last two chapters because i wanted to show how much he cares and loves her no matter what nasty thoughts she's having in her head? like he doesn't even finish the thought in his head when he kind of figures out what's going on? but that being said, i just hadddd to include her pov at the end to kind of turn the knife and crank up the angst. but on a lighter note, yes! i wanted to include some regular, old domestic moments between the two of them. i always think about the post "oh they love each other. well do they like each other?" and try to make sure that comes across? like they talk too? it's not all crazy sex and empty platitudes? they love and like each other 🥰 more below 💕

Out of his plane, out of the sky, out of your arms. Falling and falling - with no end in sight. -- oh the visual of this right off the bat! But I love it especially for the duality of Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw. His center of being has always been in relation to him in the Navy, but now he also has her. It’s all so entwined in a way it hasn’t ever been for him before, but with both he isn’t in control. Like doing what he loves could take him from her literally in the sense of the worst case scenario, but also she could decide it’s too hard. But also doing what he loves takes him from who he loves! And you know I love an angsty deployment bit, but there’s a lot of interesting layers here with his anxiety dreams. I also just thought it was very pretty prose! the navy was the only constant thing bradley's had in his life for the longestttt time, but now he has her as his center and maverick and penny and amelia and nat and this entire community orbiting around it? and the navy is just...there now? i can see him getting more resentful and then hating himself for getting resentful because he loves flying, but he doesn't like that he has to do it for someone else? and i've actually had a lot of thoughts lately about doing some sort of deep introspection in the next chapter about how hard it really was for her while he was gone? we get a glimpse of it in this and the last two chapters, but i think she really got to a dark place because her center was gone?

Bradley liked to think that you had stowed it away someplace and changed downstairs in order to surprise him in bed. Except now he’d never know because he had fallen asleep on you. God, he was the worst boyfriend. — she’s a planner, that one! Of course she was 3 steps ahead! But he’s also so sweet for even sulking about accidentally derailing her plans because he was sleepy and happy. Like I think she’ll forgive you, she’s did booze you up after all, lmao it's so funny to me that she got him a little too drunk like what else was he supposed to do with a full belly, a cozy bed, and some drinks haha? but like yeah you just have to give her some compliments/praise her and she'll forgive you buddy lol

But this was supposed to have been a big deal. It was the first time you both went to bed in the same room without the fear that you’d be leaving in the morning or later in the week to go back to your highrise. You were both home. Really, truly home. — H O M E!! Oh my favorite concept!! But they live together now, he wanted it to be as special for her too! He wants her home to be with him! WE LOVE THE CONCEPT OF HOME! but you know that sweet boy had fantasies of carrying her over the threshold of the house "for the first time" 🤭

You kept him on the ground. You kept him safe. — that future!! That future is his purpose!! IT'S JUST MY JOB FIVE DAYS A WEEK

Bradley wanted to treat you like you were precious first. — sweetest boy! It’s like of course they’ve both thought about it (and reread a certain email) a bunch, but I love that for as much as he wants to just have his way with her, like he wants to have sex that matters first. Like they can fuck whenever, but he hasn’t been with his best girl in MONTHS, he wants to show her how much he has missed her and how much he cares about her first! he wants to stare into her eyes and let her know how much she matters and how perfect she is to him (even if she doesn't think so). like soft and slow and close

But later? He’d slap your pussy so hard you’d be begging for his cock in no time - in fact, maybe he should time you? See how long it took you to break, to babble, to beg. — IF I SPEAK (so I won’t but good god) 🫡🫡🫡 sometimes i'm like girl get UPPE!!!

He slipped his hand down to knead your ass and you sighed. “Hmm, da-dley? Bubba?” ^^^ the daddy agenda is alive and well, next stop daddy watch me twirl! god they both want it So Badly and they both have the conscious thought of wanting it next chapter. i always picture that fic happening around their true one year anniversary? like mid april? and she's so whinyyyyyy and pathetic thinking it next chapter

You had somehow gotten even more beautiful in the three months he had been gone. It wasn’t obvious, not at first, and not to anyone who wasn’t really paying attention. But it was obvious to Bradley because Bradley always paid attention.— “because Bradley always paid attention” 🥰🥰🥰 but also i'm just so soft over how much he's imprinted her on his mind. Like he's studied her so intently over their courtship so far that he's documenting every little essence of change he sees. THEIR COURTSHIP!!!! i'm obsessed with that, but it's TRUE! someone commented that in other fics in the series it's obvious how much she loves him, but this is the first fic where they realized that he loves her just as much if not more and i think it's in little scenes like this?

“You gonna take these off, too?” He slipped a finger under the waistband of his joggers. — WHORE SLUT TEASE (the way he later arches his back?! I repeat, WHORE SLUT TEASE) he's such a slut like honestly he always knows what he's doing with her (like later when he comes back from his run with his shirt off 🤭)

“Fuck,” he sighed in relief, “How’d you let me sleep in those?” //“How’d you fall asleep on me?”//“You got me drunk!” //“Not my fault you’re suddenly a lightweight - Bradley!” -- this made me G I G G L E! Mr Zero Tolerance got hammered off one drink and in his happy tipsy content state took an little nap. Like it's so old man of him, but also so cute. Like he truly at ease for the first time since he left! Like sure we love a welcome home fuck (like it's coming! (no pun intended) and i remember saying something in the last chapter, but I love that the emotional intimacy comes first! But their banter here amused me to no end, like yes babe roast him in your cute navy nightie that you put on just for him that he missed out on because he was catching up on his REM! off one drink lol no no no she PLIED him with alcohol all night, he's on at least drink four after barely subscribing for 3 months (i learned us navy officers can get a beer at dinner or something, but aus officers can get like 3 or something crazy). but i worried that they talk too much beforehand so i'm glad you liked the levity here and the gradual emotional intimacy too!

Every new freckle, scar, bruise, age line//Bradley couldn’t wait to do the same. What had he missed? What was different?-- It's just so soft!! They're both trying to see and catch up on what they've missed in the last 90ish days! It's such a lovely moment of true connection! Like they're just both absorbing each other and reveling in being together! Not through a screen but inches a part! In their home! in their bed! and she's desperately praying that he doesn't notice anything different? that he doesn't notice she's a little rounder in the stomach? but the thing is that he notices everything 'because bradley always paid attention' and doesn't necessarily notice anything that's 'different' to him because that doesn't really matter? idk if that makes sense

“You’re so handsome,” you whispered, almost to yourself. //Bradley kissed you and returned the compliment. “And you’ve gotten even more beautiful since I’ve been gone.” -- stoooooop i'm already so soft! enoughhhhhh I cannot take it! i'm no strong enough for this! but she doesn't think so 🥺

You loved his shoulders, you always managed to notch your head there during sex and press little kisses to the scars dotting them and his neck. Bites, too - marks to prove he was yours.— artist rendering of my face 🤭 yes yes yes yes! the shoulders! his pretty scar! his pretty neck!! you know those make me weak in the knees!! but also the possessiveness of it! like HE IS HERS! HIS NECK! HIS BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL NECK (thank you phoebe waller-bridge) but i think he desire to mark him up does come from her wanting people to see he's hers? like that bit in the gala fic where she wants people to see they 'fit?' she wants people to know that they're a pair, they're each other's?

He also told Nat. However, the latter was only because he was drunk and pissed and he had just made lieutenant, once again surpassing his father in something.//Maverick had seen it about a year ago. He had never asked Bradley what it meant and probably never wanted to have it confirmed what it meant. But to anyone who really knew Bradley, it was easy to put together.//Bradley had told you about it on your fourth date. — different right from the start-- i looooooooved the dynamics of this! like the list of people who knew and the hows of how they came to learn about it and then contrasted with how easily he opened up and shared it with her!! like he WANTED to tell her, he WANTED to let her in!! it's DIFFERENT! they're kindred! yes! like he wanted to tell her, it was intentional and deliberate and he could finally tell someone who would really care and could maybe understand? like she could tell him about her mom and all that fucking shit with teddy too like they knew early this was it and they'd do anything to make sure it happened

(you, in particular, were freaked out that you’d slept with someone on the first date without a condom)— listen, who could blame her? I mean, look at him! (she let him finger her right outside of the hard deck too, but like 💁🏼‍♀️) please it's so fucking funny in hindsight like she calls her concierge doctor up monday morning and is like I NEED AN STD TEST!!! but also like per your crossed out comment, bradley has a line that's like 'you were both desperate, but you more than him' or something and like that's the root of their sexual relationship and neither of them ever forget that lol

listening to Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major and Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 was made all the more romantic by the way Bradley held your hand for the entire first piece and had his hand on your thigh for the entire second.-- I loveeee that we got more BB&SA lore here!! Like I just know he got all dressed up for it too, broke out the iron and everything! But also the hand and the thigh of it all is A LOT!! and I am swooooning if you must know, it was a navy suit and a white shirt with tan shoes and a tan belt. there were flowers and everything. he paid for dinner and she lied and said she got the concert tickets for free from work since pwc sponsors the symphony but she bought them lol

Bradley had told you what the tattoo meant and about his parents and Maverick and you had told him about your mom and your accident during your junior year of high school. — 🥺🥺🥺 my sweet babies. i am too delicate for this! the perks of being in the inner circle- I Know 🥰, but also the trials and tribulations of being in the inner circle- I KNOW 😭 i feel like bradley's very much of the 'i'm too old for this shit' camp in terms of playing 'games'/keeping things from his partners that he really sees things going somewhere with? like why would i keep this from her when we can really talk about it and then we know how to navigate these problems when they come up? and then for her, i feel like when she was like 12 or something mary was like 'dan we need to get this girl in therapy' lol so she's familiar with talking about these things and knowing it's important to give up a little of yourself to really be free of the darkness?

It hadn’t felt scary to tell you any of it. It felt right and natural. Like you wouldn’t judge him or get scared when things got hard. Like he wanted to protect you at all costs. ^^ I AM TOO DELICATE I just love how easy it is between them! Like they WANT to get deep and share those moments. They want to be SEEN entirely! There’s safety in that because they see themselves reflected in each other and I think that’s so lovely! THEY WANT TO BE SEEN ENTIRELY! whatever our souls are made of his and mine are the same or however that goes! like i know i wrote it this way and all but i really do think they're made for each other

“And I though to myself this is what Bradley sees. This is why he loves it and for that brief blip in time I got it. I understood. Makes me love you even more in some way.” — 😭😭😭 idk if you remember but i totally stole that plane moment from myself when i was going to london fall 2023 because i was so taken aback by seeing all the stars and was like he's in the middle of the pacific and they do night flights for training, he absolutely sees this and more and it just seemed kind of poetic that they'd both be in the middle of the ocean looking at the same sky?

An idea suddenly struck Bradley. It was amazing he hadn’t thought of it before. “Maybe I can make you an audiobook?”— good lord I’d never get anything done ever again no seriously like i would have it on like a daily podcast. but he would absolutely do this for her and she'd find so much comfort in it because they can talk to each other, sure. but they can't do this and fall into their d/s roles while the navy's listening? it's different than when she goes away or when he's up at lemoore or oceana, like they can't really Talk in the way they both need when he's on a carrier in the middle of the pacific

“‘Atta girl, arch your back, just like that.” You whimpered at his praise and kept rocking your hips in tandem with his fingers. Fucking glorious, such a good girl for da -“ — here we go, round two!! I stay winning with the almost daddy agenda! he wants to say it so badly like if only you knew buddy

All you had to do was pout and he was gone. — S I M P 🥰 he'd do anything for her, all she has to do is ask

However, he’d already let your tender touches go on long enough - another minute and he’d come all over that silk nightie you hadn’t taken off yet.— listen I know that man is dying to give her another kind of pearl necklace 💁🏼‍♀️ it would go well with that frilly little apron he thought about earlier 🤭

Thank god he had prepped you, he wasn’t going to last much longer, himself. It was kind of pathetic. Both of you were, to be frank. Obviously, you more than him in this instance, but - -lmaoooooo. forever giggling when he calls himself pathetic, like mr man is gone for his girl! and he's only had his hand in a twin sized bunk for the last 3 months, like he's not going to make it out alive if he tries to go for gold right off the bat! but also she's just as needy and desperate as him, so this whole bit is as funny as it is H O T THE ONE HANDED FODDER!!! but seriously yeah she's way more desperate, like bradley may be hanging on by a thread, but her thread has disintegrated two weeks ago

“My best girl, huh?”— 🥰🥰 *tucks hair behind ear* i mean if you say so 💁🏼‍♀️

“So beautiful, so smart. Took such good care of things for me, huh?” He could feel as well as hear your breath hitching, letting him know that you were close. “‘gorgeous girl, so proud of you, sweet g -”// And that did it. —AHH!! AND THAT DID IT YEAH IT DID!!! GOOD GIRL SWEET GIRL GORGEOUS GIRL ALL THEE ABOVE THE SWEET GIRL AGENDA LIVES ON! all miss girl needs is to be praised and she's putty

God, it was beautiful. You were beautiful. Your name kept running through his mind and Bradley realized he was actually muttering it against your lips through kisses.— smutty and hot and the care!! it love that he's kind of losing his mind here, but at the root it's just all about her and how wrapped up she has him. like her [redacted]ing (it's just too much for me to type out lmao) and he's like SHE'S ART! I'M MOVED! PUT HER IN THE LOUVRE! he's so enraptured by her and I love that for her! WITH A BODY LIKE APHRODITE??!!? he's obsessed with her. she's normally the one to babble, but he does it too

And then, with all the care and love you deserved at the moment, he bundled you up in his arms. You were so warm and smelled so pretty and your nightie felt so soft against his rough fingers. Everything about that moment was perfect. You were so precious. You pressed your cheek against his chest and he hoped you could tell how fast his heart was beating. -- SHE'S SO SOFT FOR HIM!! It's like the first time in his life he gets to have that with someone, who in her own way treats him with all the care and the love and the softness he deserves after being on his own for so long! I love how mutual it is between the two of them. Like they give as good as they get in all things. But especially knowing what we know about her and where she is, like he wants her to know how valued and loved she is. like they trust each other so much? they would both sacrifice themselves for the other and that's kind of scary? but it's true? they're just too soft for all of it

Bradley groaned your name. You peered up at him with those wide, innocent eyes like you weren’t getting him off while he slept. Like your pussy wasn’t soaking. Like you hadn’t been grinding it against his bare thigh for the last however many minutes. — cheeky little go getter! girl has been waiting to get him in her mouth for monthsssss

He just shook his head in disbelief. “Cheeky little slut.” //And then you smiled, looking so proud of yourself for rattling him that he had no choice but to slap the top of your ass. Hard. You huffed.-- lmaooooooo, she's got his number! SHE JUST WANTS HIM TO BE PROUD OF HER! SHE WANTS THE PRAAAAAISE

The room was filled with giggles and the sounds of kissing as Bradley told you some of the more entertaining stories from the carrier and Australia, while you revealed that you had watched his 60 Minutes segment at least nine times. When he asked you why you’d watched it nine times, you just ducked your head and bashfully said it was because you sounded really smart.-- HE'S PRETTY AND SMART FOLKS AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT god he really is so hot and smart and i know he looked so good on tv. it's like that scene in ted lasso when keeley gets off to roy's retirement press conference

And he had run you pretty ragged this morning. — when will it be me??!! i fear it never will be me!

“Oh! I guess I hadn’t noticed.” You turned your back to him. “Here, do you want to do my hair? Or I can do yours? Why don’t I do yours?”—🥺🥺🥺 I just know that his observation is going to be living in her head rent free. The way she is trying to divert the attention in a different direction hurts my heart! he's like MORE SOAPY TITS TO ADMIRE 🤩 and she just has every mean, self critical thought running through her head on loop and it's OOF. she's like thank god i got all those one piece bathing suits and bradley's like fuck how did she get hotter??? he has a couple comments like this that if they were on the same page totally wouldn't be an issue/are kind of innocuous? but now that we know how she's feeling with the last passage in this chapter, it's like shittttttt yeah i can see how she'd read that wrong? and then she turns around so he can't really see her? and then the lights???

You hummed. “Just a little bump out, enough for someone to sit. You’re getting older, I wouldn’t want you to fall or hurt yourself during any rigorous shower activity.”-- ROAST HIM no but like imagine them in the shower and he doesn't have to worry about being too careful that she doesn't fall? feral

“I haven’t stayed here at the house too much while you were gone, just a night or two - like that night…with the email,” you confessed, “it didn’t feel right. I kept thinking you’d come home any minute.” Bradley pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “But I’d drop stuff off slowly, a couple boxes a week and whatnot.”-- SWEET GIRL!! She missed him too much to be there alone?!! why are you trying to hurt me like this?! in my delicate state?! jordannnnnnnn see this i was what i mentioned earlier about really getting some introspection into what she was going through? like i can just picture her being in the house alone and crying and not wanting to get out of bed because 'maybe if i stay in bed i can pretend that bradley's coming home late?' i wanna do more with that

And then, after multiple passes over your breasts at Bradley’s hands - it was unfair how good your breasts looked all sudsed up— his true kryptonite 😂😂 he's a simple man! lololol sometimes he really doesn't need a lot lol. and she's never telling him how she took that soapy titties pic haha like that's going to the grave

But there was something about you choosing an oxford to wear after staring at your closet for ten minutes that gave him pause. You had such pretty clothes, it would be a shame for you not to wear them.— bestie babe 🥺🥺 it’s so sad seeing her so unsure of herself and unsettled in her own skin and like he has that internal thought 'you had such pretty clothes, it would be a shame for you not to wear them' in this part and then next chapter he actually verbalizes it and does something about it??? gonna jump

The two sat across from each other - Maverick on one of the cushioned, wicker swivel chairs with Bradley on the matching loveseat - and sipped their beers in comfortable silence for a few moments.— I love how comfortable they are now, the past is the past. Now he’s picking him up from school [read: work] and getting him ice cream and they’re able to just be. that's his FATHER!!!!!! like? i get really emotional thinking about them reconnecting and just being comfortable with each other again?

“So, how’re you really doing?” Though the question has been asked at dinner already, Bradley had just given a vague answer. But now that it was just him and Maverick, he felt he could be honest.— THAT’S HIS DADDDDDDDDDD and he can tell his dad everything again!!!!

It hadn’t been quiet in three months. There was always something else going on around him. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow, he could do things on his own time and make his own food and pick his own clothes. He could have choices. — oh this bit got me so good! it hurt in the best way! he gets to be bradley again! not just rooster. not having to follow a schedule, follow commands. He gets to settle back into himself! i just kept thinking that it must be so jarring to be back to just nothingness? the end scenes in the hurt locker were a huge inspiration

The fact that Bradley thought you were keeping something else from him didn’t need to be brought up yet. He wouldn’t even be able to put it into words, it was just a gut feeling at this point. You just seemed a little off. The egg whites, the boxy oxfords, the chocolate cake.— I texted you a bit about this, but I love how even in this reunion honeymoon bubble, that he knows her so innately that he can sense something is off. That he has always been so in tune with her and paid attention to even the littlest things, that even if he can't pinpoint it right then and there that he knows something is up. That he has enough crumbs to make a sandwich, each tidbit had been filed away until he had enough to realize she has a bit of a facade up with him. And the dichotomy of that compared with how easily they shared their big hurts on the 4th date, where she's worried about losing him with all the insecurities rattling in her head when all he wants is more and everything. yeah like he frequently knows things about her before she even does? because bradley always paid attention! i think a lot of her not sharing this is because she thinks it's silly in comparison?

“And you’re okay with that?” Bradley nodded. “Jesus, Bradley, you’ll be at least forty by the time -”//“- Forty-two.” -- this part took me out at the KNEES!!! like even mav (that's his dad that's his dad) knows that bradley is holding himself back with that one. that he so clearly wants a family but his own fears of leaving them behind make it so he'd rather put it off longer to ensure that doesn't happen than risk letting his worst fear come to pass. but that it so clearly weighs on bradley too! the way he so easily drops that "forty-two" because he's thought about it so intently! OOF and DOUBLE OOF i'm glad you liked this part so much and it hit so hard because i wanted it to be obvious that this waiting thing isn't easy for either of them, but they really need to do it because they're both so scared? and like if anyone would get it, it would be maverick? maverick who knows why bradley has that tattoo without ever asking about it?

Maverick looked sad and Bradley hated it. Because he knew, without Bradley even having to spell it out why you were going to wait. Because Maverick had been there. Because Maverick had held Bradley’s mom as she cried on too many occasions to count. Because Maverick had taken Bradley to all the father/son events in the place of his own father. Because Bradley realized, as he had gotten older, that Maverick thought it was his fault that Bradley grew up without a father.-- NOT THE FATHER/SON EVENTS! I AM TOO DELICATEEEEE!!! AND THE MAV GUILT! but also my sweet boy thinking that time was out of guilt and as penance vs it being for him hurts my heart! and i think bradley didn't even realize that until he got older and was properly in the navy? and bradley loves maverick but he doesn't want his kids to have their own maverick? he just wants them to have a papa mav?

“If it gives either of us the slightest peace of mind, we’re going to try and wait.”-- sweet boy nooooooo, have your dream life! you deserve it! you both do! like they don't want this with anyone else, but when it happens they just want it to actually be the two of them making the decision? the us navy is not involved because i really think it would kill both of them to do any of it alone? except well...bradley's 40 when gil's born...and they're both so scared. i think that's bradley's ptsd that he didn't realize he had until now(ish)?

“What’re you ladies gossiping about?” Amelia breezed onto the patio and messed up Bradley’s hair before she plopped down on the other end of the sofa— I love that Bradley [36] now has a teenaged pseudo little sister 😂 like yes, roast that man. But also it’s so cute because it’s like he has another chance at a family! he's got a 'bratty' little sister! and he brings her to field hockey practice and games when mav and penny can't! he goes to symphony orchestra concerts! (amelia plays the cello)

He liked Amelia, he was protective of her, fucking shoot him.--1) i love this, like that's his pseudo step-sister, but also 2) lolololol he's so funny here. So huffy and defensive! that's his family goddamnit! he's like yeah okay i like a fourteen year old, she's my family, deal with it! but i think it's kind of a thing where bradley obviously didn't have any siblings and this is kind of his chance? and then ofc when mavericks [reacteds] bradley, amelia also gets [redacted].

“Debate team?!” Alright, now he was putting it on a little bit, but as someone who had also been on the debate team in high school, Bradley knew that those guys were also smart, which generally meant they were way more trouble than the typical jocks.- G I G G L I N G. he was 10000% a menace against society and you just know he lost some color in his face. he's like fuck is this gonna be what it's like when i have kids??

“The 1990s!” Amelia feigned hysterics and got a chuckle out of you and Maverick.- pllllllssssss (making me feel old too, the audacity, lol) you know i had to sneak a 9/11 mention in there too

Can you ask her where she got her sneakers? A couple weeks later, you and Bradley had gotten Amelia the very same sneakers for her birthday. She always blushed when you wore them at the same time.— golden goose? i was between that or pink addidas sambas haha but the gg are so funny because bradley would have no idea how much those cost and would be like wow thanks for picking that up, how much do i owe you? and she's like....$50

But god, he really fucking hated Teddy Cavanaugh. He wanted to fucking deck him on the first tee at Claremont Country Club. He wanted to slam his nine-iron into the Porsche 911 he was driving. And Bradley was pretty sure your dad did too. — ME THREE I FUCKING HATE THAT GUY we all hate teddy cavanaugh (last name is absolutely not inspired by a certain supreme court justice...)

You were Amelia. You had been that young, that sweet, that trusting and Teddy Cavanaugh had thrown it all back in your face.-- this got me when you sent it to me early on and it still gets me now. like him having someone he knows and cares about who is close in age to her when that accident happened just really puts things into perspective in a too real and unsettling way! she was just a girl! like it's one thing to be told something awful like that but another to be confronted with a visual of sorts? and when he goes to her house for thanksgiving and sees pics of her growing up and in high school he's like ho-ly shit she was so young? how could he have done this?

Everything was right as it should be. Bradley was with his family, Bradley was with you, here. Not on a carrier in the middle of the Pacific or the passenger seat of Mr. Cavanaugh’s Porsche. //Here. And nothing bad was going to happen here. -- sweet bean is trying to ground himself. 🥺 that little spiral of realization really hits him in a way he wasn't expecting. that's his FAMILYYYYYYYY i think he spirals a lot actually? and always has to do that 'five things' thing with anxiety attacks? and her and his family are like one of the only things that can always ground him?

“I’ve got one in the mudroom if -” //“No, it’s fine,” Bradley cut off Maverick, “she can have mine.”//Quickly taking off his own sweatshirt and putting it over your head, Bradley didn’t even have the time to linger on how pathetic he sounded. -- 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 pls he's so fucking funny like his dramatic ass

Who did Maverick think he was, offering to let Bradley’s girlfriend borrow a sweatshirt?- lmao I mean the audacity /s. her little crush is endlessly amusing to me, and how huffy and grumpy he is about it is so fucking funny, like NO DAD STOP MAKING MY GIRLFRIEND FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU SHE'S MINE lolololol and the thing is bradley will neverrrrr confront her about it? because he just knows she'd be so embarrassed since she doesn't even really realize it?

Little shit gave Bradley the worst one, even knowing Maverick wouldn’t have any and therefore didn’t need one. As payback, he kept putting his marshmallow wherever Amelia’s was. It meant that he didn’t roast a single good marshmallow, but the glare she kept sending him was too funny to make him stop. — not the almost 40 year old beefing with the teenager 😂 pls it’s so funny he's so huffy and such a drama queen i love him

[image: Mr. 7.5 Gs]- AHAAHAHHAAHAHAHAH listen.....

Jerking off, I’m bored— P L E A S E 😂😂😂 like at the end of the day he's still a guy

charming- the way I cackled she's like so unamused and then like a switch is turned off inside her lol

this is so hot //unless i get fired— wheezing (she’s so real for this). like genuinely, this got such a chuckle out of me because I felt like i heard it in her voice. that little aside took it out of me! like she's still Her at the end of the day haha

[Sent with Siri]— the way he’s been outed. Mr Man is Hands Free Texting because he’s BUSY and then SHE switches over to it?!?! jail

At one point, Bradley had even contemplated that you might be pregnant. He had been gone for three months, an entire first trimester. But something about the theory didn’t sit right with him.— cruel of you to put this in here knowing what I know!! have you no consideration for my poor nerves?! i love how he rationalizes how it can't be that though? like he knowwwwws but he still has to do his due diligence

Because Bradley wasn’t dying in an F-18 with a family at home. --OOF this was such a moment in that earlier fic, I'm really happy to see it here again even if it does feel like a suckerpunch! i imagine he thinks this when he's flying and it's kind of scary? and he's on his perch? like i think it really fucks with his head and he hears it in either his mom or dad or maverick's voice?

Then, there was the fact that you had an IUD and the possibility of getting pregnant on an IUD was even less than on the pill (<1% a year - he’d looked it up). -- the fact he googled it is 1) HOT and 2) amusing as fuck lmao he's very thorough! he also looked up audio book ideas on reddit!

Was there a hint in one of your emails? Some little detail he had glossed over in his haste to read any scrap of news from you, in your voice? Bradley had read all of them at least three times, some even more, but maybe he had missed something?— like he is so smart but so dumb? i mean, that even in the emails he absolutely just didn't even entertain the thought of it, and how he can't fathom how she wouldn't see herself the way he does so he's totally blind to it. And it's all right there in the emails he's read at least three times! he thinks so much of her, and for everything that she is- smart, witty, pretty, amazing, etc- like the confidence is a hard won trait for her. it's there, but it has to be worked at. but also, how can he know if she doesn't tell him 👀 he's sooooo close! and he kind of gets there but doesn't let the thought fully form even in his own mind? and i think that even though we know it's there, she didn't even really realize she was putting it out there? like not in the way she really is thinking? it's there and not? idk if that makes sense

Bradley grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino from the side door and poured himself a glass. - 😂😂🤭🤭 her influence like i just know he hated it at first

No way. No fucking way. That could not be it.//No, no. You couldn’t be worried about how - i really am so enamoured by how adamant he is about this. like the thought of her feeling insecure or not enough for him is like a 404 error in his brain, because he is just so into her! like he really can't compute it? it's never crossed his mind? like i said earlier, he clearly knows her body has changed, but it's not in a way that really bares notice to him?

“Sorry, I uhh - yeah, it was fine. Saw the Thompsons finished their patio - is that a new dress?” — he's a regular shakespeare. such a stunning way with words, lmao i wanted to make him kind of cute and nervous here? like he's trying to be cool, but he's so charmed by her still?

Knowing you, his spoiled, prissy girlfriend, the dress was probably expensive. Good.-- the "good" sent me into orbit 😂 i'm really gonna lean into this going forward lol

It was technically a lie; he had texted you, but it had been a do you know where my Theragun is text, not a show me your pussy right now text. -- P L S, definitely not beating those old man allegations now are you bradshaw? he's so funny lol

Which really put a damper on a portion of your wine cellar escapades. -- 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 rip to another pair of tights only time mary harris has been embarrassed around them

God, you were beautiful. You both were beautiful. This was beautiful. Being together like this was beautiful. It was wet and loud and messy, but it was beautiful. -- just casually swooning sighhhh i'm so jealous of this

Bradley picked his head up from where it was buried in your neck and leveled you with a look that had you properly bursting into laughter. He wanted to make some smart comment, something cheeky, but the gorgeous smile on your face had him losing his feigned stoicism and he started laughing right alongside you. -- sex should be fun! there should be giggling and grins and fun! I loved this moment because it shows the friendship too! like they're in love but they still have fun with each other and can laugh and be light! (even after hot need you now sex on the table!) they like and love each other and it's my favorite thing to see! okay yay because that was exactly what i was going for! like this whole exchange is kind of crazy and different for them? like she can't believe they just did that and then when he joins in they absolutely lose it? like it's just...it's very them? and sweet and normal

nothing but the sun, sea, sustenance, sleep, and sex. -- chefs kiss alliteration right here, loved it i felt like you with this line!

“Can I come?” he asked, completely ignoring the sunscreen comment. It wasn’t special per se, it was just high SPF since he burned easily. — golden retriever boyfriend of him but also that man is coming home pink cheeked stop he's so cute isn't he? like don't leave my sight!

You were pouting now and it only made him want to get you the necklace more. “It’s too expensive for something like that; I looked it up online.”-- that's so funny that the pout makes him want to give it to her even more. like of course she'd look it up, but that he knows his girl who likes nice expensive things gets all bashful when he buys it for her vs when she gets it for herself, like he knows she doesn't expect it from him and that makes him want to spoil her more! it's cute. no you're 1000% right because she would buy it for herself without a second thought. and i think i've said this before, but one of the only things they fight about in the lead up to their marriage/signing their prenup is money because they have such different relationships with it? he wants to spoil her and she's like i'm already spoiled

“Woah, woah.” Bradley held his hands up and you grabbed one to examine it. “Since when am I getting my nails done?”//“You’re getting a pedicure at the very least. I don’t want to have to look at your weird feet on the beach all week.” -- that she grabs it and is checking out those cuticles made me laugh, it thought it was so funny. like you're getting those nails buffed sir. it's for your own good. (and the pedicure is for the good of all humankind, lets be real.) plsssss i loved this part, like it's so funny and just shows how they kind of bust each other/interact in such an easy way? idk it's a lot of pathos to put onto a scene of her grabbing his hand but idk let me live! and yeah boys should get pedicures more often (he's fruity so it's doubly allowed)

If pressed, he would say it was because he wanted to sit in the massage chair and the nail tech told him he could only sit in the chair if he was getting his nails done. That was the only reason why. It wasn’t because of how pretty you looked while you were smiling at him out of the corner of his eye, like you couldn’t believe he was really there.//absolutely not.-- mmmhmm sure sure sure 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 ENAMORED! he's enamored with her. like they can't look at each other enough like they're scared the other is going to disappear. (also the fact that she finds a completely new salon in their new neighborhood just feels really official and intentional of her in a really small/almost blase way?)

You giggled and then mimicked his pose on the bed, except you made sure to snuggle up next to him, all earlier awkwardness gone. “I’d do anything for you actually.”-- this was so sweet. she's so sincere about it too, even in the cheekiness of mirroring him. AND SHE WOULD! like if she had any inkling it would make him happy, she'd do anything for bradley

“You’re not gonna get sick of me, right?”//You shook your head. “Never, even if you are a nerd who gets pedicures -”-- why are they just the cutest?! 😭 and the little high five too?!? ugh i love them

Because you hadn’t been prepared for how it made you feel in comparison. Because he was so strong and fit and beautiful - and you didn’t think you were any of those things. Not anymore at least. Not after what happened.-- oh that surprise of her POV at the end, and getting just a little peek into her brain after this chapter being mostly from his! and to see just how low she feels, when she should be cruising on a high of having the love of her life back and about to go on a dream vacation with him! like it just makes me ache! because for all that time she hasn't been able to shake those feelings and insecurities and she's trying to put on a good front and a show. it just makes me so sad for her! HA i was kind of giddy keeping this from you lol like she knows she should be so happy and excited, but she just can't let this go yet?

You should have taken your mother’s words to heart at lunch two weeks ago when she had told you to watch your figure, boys like Bradley are used to certain standards. --i hope almond mom gets salmonella in her next tub of nutbutter. Miss Ma'am blew all of Bradley's standards out of the water, she's where the bar is set! HAHAHA mrs eat pray love is just bitter mr smart aleck really reallyyyy hit big after their divorce so she doesn't get any of it lol

Maybe you should have worn a cute little sundress and forgotten your underwear or some other ridiculous thing? Let him fuck you in the back of the car right in the middle of the parking lot?//That wasn’t you, though. That wasn’t either of you.-- i know you know i know you know i know. But also, she's so in her own head that she doesn't even realize that that reunion was everything he wanted! her! in their home! in their bed! they don't know that we know they know we know! like you know?

But Bradley loved you. He had told you in about 159 different ways (re. emails) while he was gone. He loved you, he wanted you, he was going to live with you, build a life with you. You knew he loved you no matter what you looked like. --159 DIFFERENT WAYS! IF HE WANTED TO HE WOULD AND HE DID AND HE DOES! I can't wait for her to come back into her own again! i just want to hug her and tell her everything is going to be ok! i know we want to shake him and be like confront her now! tell her now! but i really think he's smart in being like i'm giving her a deadline to tell me (because he knows she will) and she has to actually tell me since it has to be her decision to get back to herself? like he can help to do some of the work, but she needs to do the real heavy lifting? because 159 emails between the two of them just tells me they know each other really well and love each other

oh this chapter had so much going for it! but the building woven in with the domestic moments and smutty goodness was so well done! i loved every bit of this! you knocked it out of the park! i cannot wait for mexicooooo! good thing my passport is up to date, i'm readyyyy! - i'm going full white lotus and am so excited 💁🏼‍♀️

rocketman: part iii - Some things Cosmic

Summary: finally back home, bradley can focus on all the things he's missed while he's been gone. there's someone there to properly welcome him home, frantic reunion sex, prepping for an amazing vacation, family dinners, and the casual intimacy he's come to love between the two of you. but there's still something up with you and he can't quite figure it out. it'll be fine, right? catch up with [part 1] and [part 2]

OR sex, s'mores, and secrets

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 18.5k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, body insecurity, suggestive dialogue, suggestive content, and sexual content (oral (f + m receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, dom/sub influence, and praise, rank, and degradation kink). also on ao3!

i want to be naked, i don’t mean my body, i don’t need my body i’m floating away

Bradley startled awake sometime later. It happened sometimes. He had these dreams were it felt like he was falling. Out of his plane, out of the sky, out of your arms. Falling and falling - with no end in sight.

That wasn’t to say that they were necessarily nightmares or anything. (Because the distinction between the two was glaringly obvious.)

They just unnerved him a bit. Left him unsettled, untethered.

He rolled over and stretched his arm out across the bed, until his fingers brushed against something silky. Something warm and silky. He turned his head to find you sprawled out next to him.

You had changed between now and when Bradley had last seen you - he glanced at the clock on his nightstand - seven hours ago.

Fuck.

He had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs.

Goddammit, he felt like an asshole. He rubbed his hands over his face, sighing. This was the last thing he had wanted to happen, especially after what you two talked about earlier that evening.

You’d give us your wild? Of course. Of course, of course, of course he would.

Like you knew he was thinking about you, you shifted your hips, inching closer towards him. Your body was only half under the thick duvet cover and top sheet, so even in the early morning light he could still see the navy nightie you were wearing.

Tonight, the night three months in the making, he had missed cuddling and kissing and all the best parts of getting cozy in bed with you because he had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs. And sure, he had gotten a taste of what was to come on the couch while you laid underneath him and drew imaginary shapes across his chest with your finger and he held you tight and counted your heartbeats.

Home - where he could finally wake up next to you and have you be right here - not an ocean apart. Bradley already dreaded the next time he’d have to leave you.

There was a future with you. There was that little boy - or little girl - from your dream. The perfect mix of you and Bradley.

(Don’t ever be a Rocket Man. I mean it.

When you’re out there you want to be here, and when you’re here you want to be out there.

Promise me you won’t be like me.)

Suddenly, there was this overwhelming urge inside him that if he didn’t touch you and have you in his arms, that he’d slip away, back to space. Untethered.

You kept him on the ground. You kept him safe.

Bradley scooted over towards your side of the bed and wrapped his arms around you, unable to bear another moment untethered. There, that was better. You were soft and warm and felt so precious in his arms. And with your nightie rucked up around your hips and one leg extended out and the other hiked up, your body was on full display.

Easy access.

Your thighs were so fucking soft and curvy and he desperately wanted to slot himself right between them. Have them bracket his head, while his tongue lapped at your pretty pussy.

Would he start there? Eat you out until you were begging for his cock? Have you grind on his lap…until you were begging for his cock? Or…just generally begging for his cock?

They all seemed appealing, but admittedly kissing you until you were breathless and then rocking his body above yours until you were both tumbling over the edge had plenty of merit, too. Bradley wanted to treat you like you were precious first.

But later? He’d slap your pussy so hard you’d be begging for his cock in no time - in fact, maybe he should time you? See how long it took you to break, to babble, to beg.

But that brought him back to the present. Could he wake you up, now? Bradley knew you’d been stressed and busy ever since your mom had come to town and because of all you’d confessed earlier; so, would it be fair to wake you? You hadn’t woken him up, afterall.

After an indeterminate amount of time of just holding you and watching you breathe, you rolled your bare ass against Bradley’s crotch and let out a pleased hum. He gave your hip a squeeze and you burrowed even deeper in his arms. Your skin was softer than the silk nightie you were wearing and he could feel the heat pouring off your body.

He slipped his hand down to knead your ass and you sighed. “Hmm, da-dley? Bubba?”

“Hey, kid.” He kissed your neck.

Once you were a little more lucid and opened your eyes, you pulled your nightie down to cover your ass, though that didn’t stop Bradley from playing with the lace hem.

You rolled over so you were now face to face and wrapped your right leg around his left.

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

You cupped his cheek. “Wanted you to sleep, you looked so tired. Pretty too.”

It was dark in the room at five thirty-eight, but not completely pitch black, so Bradley could still make out your soft features. You had somehow gotten even more beautiful in the three months he had been gone. It wasn’t obvious, not at first, and not to anyone who wasn’t really paying attention.

But it was obvious to Bradley because Bradley always paid attention.

“Well,” he kissed your forehead then your nose, “I’m still sorry, especially after what we talked about earlier, should’ve stayed up for you.”

“But I woke up beside you, so I can’t be too angry.” You leaned in to kiss him. “It’d be impossible to be angry now, actually.”

He hitched your right leg higher over his hip and groaned when he could feel your core through his joggers. You squirmed against him, cheeky little thing. But with his joggers and t-shirt still on, Bradley was definitely overheated and the sweat was building at the back of his neck, to say nothing about the heat your body was giving off.

As if reading his mind, you grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly dragged your fingers up his stomach, stopping at both his happy trail and then the patch of hair in the middle of his chest, before taking the t-shirt off completely. A soft thud rang out when you’d thrown it across the room and it presumably landed on the floor.

“You gonna take these off, too?” He slipped a finger under the waistband of his joggers.

“Been dying to all night - hips up, Bradshaw.”

Bradley arched his back and helped you slide his joggers down his legs, taking his boxer briefs with them. Your gaze lingered on his body for a long moment, but you just gave him a coy little smile.

“Fuck,” he sighed in relief, “How’d you let me sleep in those?”

“How’d you fall asleep on me?”

“You got me drunk!”

“Not my fault you’re suddenly a lightweight - Bradley!”

He pinched your side and you wiggled away from him with a shriek. “Uh uh, not so fast.”

Bradley pulled you close again, desperate to be nearer to you. You tangled your legs together and pointed your torso towards his, but remained perched on your elbow, while he was laying down flat.

Suddenly somber, your eyes were drawn back to his body and he just let you look - drink him in and see what you had missed over the last few months. Every new freckle, scar, bruise, age line.

Bradley couldn’t wait to do the same. What had he missed? What was different?

He could feel your eyes lingering on his abs. Normally, you remarked on his thighs and shoulders, but tonight it seemed you had a different focus. You appeared hesitant, biting your lip, as you dragged your finger across his stomach.

Did you like how he looked - how he had changed in your time apart?

“You’re so handsome,” you whispered, almost to yourself.

Bradley kissed you and returned the compliment. “And you’ve gotten even more beautiful since I’ve been gone.”

You appeared bashful at the comment, which just let Bradley know he’d have to give you more of them over the next few weeks. “Come ‘ere.” Without waiting for a response, Bradley started pressing kisses all over your face, your cheeks, your neck, your lips. If it was possible at this point, he drew your body even closer.

“Bra-adley! We have an entire bed here, you know?” You giggled when he rubbed his nose into your neck.

“Mmmm, but it’s nice and warm here.”

You scooched down on the bed on your stomach so you were looking up at him. With a smile, you began to press languid kisses across his chest, starting just above his belly-button and creeping up to his pecs, heart, and shoulders. You loved his shoulders, you always managed to notch your head there during sex and press little kisses to the scars dotting them and his neck. Bites, too - marks to prove he was yours.

But tonight, it seemed you had a different path in mind and, while you still nipped at his shoulder, you didn’t stop there and instead went straight to the small tattoo on his bicep. You traced your fingers across the roman numerals:

x x x i x

Thirty-nine.

As in thirty-nine years old. An age neither of his parents ever got to see.

Bradley had gotten the tattoo when he was in flight school and a bit of a shit with self destructive tendencies. People never really asked what it meant and he never really wanted to tell anyone.

He’d told Ezra, right around the time when they first started talking about moving in together, before that spectacularly failed. He also told Nat. However, the latter was only because he was drunk and pissed and he had just made lieutenant, once again surpassing his father in something.

Maverick had seen it about a year ago. He had never asked Bradley what it meant and probably never wanted to have it confirmed what it meant. But to anyone who really knew Bradley, it was easy to put together.

Bradley had told you about it on your fourth date.

It was the second time you��d slept together. Because while your first time had been frantic and had taken you both by surprise (you, in particular, were freaked out that you’d slept with someone on the first date without a condom), the second time was much slower - softer.

You had planned the date this time. Bradley had picked you up at your apartment - he even had come upstairs to get you - with flowers - and the two of you had dinner at Callie, followed by a performance at the San Diego Symphony. It was actually thanks to one of Bradley’s fun facts about playing the piano that you had gotten the idea.

Both of you had gotten dressed up (a big departure from your third date hike in Torrey Pines), the food and drinks had been plentiful and delicious, and listening to Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major and Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 was made all the more romantic by the way Bradley held your hand for the entire first piece and had his hand on your thigh for the entire second.

So, after eating you out on your kitchen counter and going two rounds in bed, Bradley had told you what the tattoo meant and about his parents and Maverick and you had told him about your mom and your accident during your junior year of high school.

And if you had asked Bradley, it was after that date that he knew he was going to fall in love with you.

It hadn’t felt scary to tell you any of it. It felt right and natural. Like you wouldn’t judge him or get scared when things got hard. Like he wanted to protect you at all costs.

And because he had told you what the tattoo meant, it made the moments since when you’d really focus and hone in on it all the more sweeter. During this last deployment, Bradley had often felt like the ink was burning into his skin under his flight-suit. It kept reminding him that he had once thought he had a timeline or a stopwatch on his bicep, slowly ticking down. But with you, it was something to strive towards, to reach beyond and be there for LIX, LXXXIX, and even XCIX.

“What’s it like flying at night?” Your question snapped him out of his thoughts and you pressed another kiss to his tattoo to calm him. “I kept thinking about it on my flight to London. And how you must see this all the time, is it still a big deal? Can you even stop and think about it? Just endless night with thousands of stars to guide you? Being in the middle of the ocean, nothing around for hundreds of miles.”

(What’s it like, out in space?

It’s the best thing in a lifetime of best things - oh, it’s really nothing at all.

But you always go back.)

“You’d never thought about it before?” his voice came out thick, hoarse.

You shrugged a shoulder. “Not in that way, I guess? I couldn’t sleep on the way to London, so I pulled up the shade in the middle of the night. I’ve never really thought to do it before, don’t know why - but then I saw all those stars, endless stars, thousands of them. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Your finger stopped tracing patterns on his arm for a moment before it started again. “And I though to myself this is what Bradley sees. This is why he loves it and for that brief blip in time I got it. I understood. Makes me love you even more in some way.”

Bradley felt like he was going to cry, the feeling swept over him so suddenly. “I uhh - fuck.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you sounded contrite, “I just wanted you to know.”

Could he tell you? Could he tell you that flying at night with all the stars in the sky simultaneously made him feel closer to and yet farther away from his parents? It was like they were right there, but also so far out of reach. But he didn’t say any of that. He couldn’t say any of that, not now. The words couldn’t come.

Instead, he pulled you closer, putting your face at level with his own. “I love you.”

You smiled and he could’ve sworn there were tears in your eyes, but it was hard to make out in the darkness. “I love you, too. Now please kiss me.”

Bradley let out a chuckle, but leaned in to kiss you without another word. The kiss was sweet, but still had an underlying desperation attached to it that came with being away for months. But unlike every other kiss you’d shared since Bradley had gotten home, there was no need to stop or to prevent it from going further. No, now you were his. He could have you however he wanted.

Not breaking the kiss, you shifted and bracketed your thighs on either side of his hips, allowing him to slide his hands up your body. He’d never get tired of thinking it, but god, you were so fucking soft. Your hips, your thighs, your breasts, your hands, your lips - actually…

His next words were grunted against your neck. “Your lips are really soft - softer than normal,” he finished when you went to interrupt him.

“Must be my lip mask. I put it on after I saw that you fell asleep on me…”

“Hey, hey,” he tickled your sides and you collapsed on his chest amidst your giggles, “I said you should’ve woken me up!”

“Would you have woken me up?” You had him there. “See? This way I could stare at you uninterrupted and get all moony over you. Plus, now isn’t this better? No more sleepy bubs.”

No. He was definitely awake now. And from where your core was laid on his bare stomach, he could already feel how wet your were and couldn’t wait to slip inside you.

“‘Could kiss you for hours,” you said against his lips. You kissed him - once, twice, ten times, smiling all the while. He never wanted you to stop. “Bradley,” you whined, “Need you inside me. Gotta get used to you again. ‘m so tight.” You nipped his earlobe.

He groaned. Fuck. He couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend who said stuff like that. It was like something out of a wet dream. “You seriously only took your fingers the entire time I was gone?” You nodded. “Good girl.”

You preened under the praise. Because it surely had to have been a bit of a challenge. “Yours are so much bigger, though.” Bradley rolled his eyes at your cheeky tone. “What’re you gonna think up for me to do next time you’re gone? Like what you talked about earlier?” You didn’t linger too much on the next time part of your question, so he didn’t either.

“Hmmm. What about tasks?”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well, I’d have to do more research, but like you have to wear xyz or send me a picture of you doing something? Whatever we want.”

You nuzzled his neck. “Mmmmm, I like that. Wish we could really talk when you’re gone, though. I’m not sure I could handle every comms officer hearing what I need from you again…”

An idea suddenly struck Bradley. It was amazing he hadn’t thought of it before. “Maybe I can make you an audiobook?”

Your jaw dropped and you contorted your body to look up at him. “You’d do that? Seriously?”

His cheeks colored. “I mean, not like an actual one, but like a voice memo or something?” The idea didn’t sound nearly as good out loud as it did in his head. “If you wanted…”

“Oh my god, yes! I very much do want.”

Without another word, Bradley rolled you both over so now he was on top, knees bracketing your hips so as to not put his full weight on you. Your nightie was still covering your stomach and breasts, but that didn’t stop him from snaking his hands underneath the navy silk to play with them. They felt fuller than normal - not that he was complaining, but he hadn’t noticed earlier and now -

His cock brushed against your stomach in a way that had you bucking up against him, so desperate, so keen, so fucking good. Good girl. Your lips were eager against his as you poured every thought, every email, every Facetime call into your kiss.

God, it had been so long. Fooling around on the couch earlier in the evening paled in comparison to how plump your lips felt and how keenly your body reacted to his. Because you felt so good. Months, weeks, days had passed and Bradley had never felt anything as good as your body beneath his.

You sighed and squirmed up the bed so your head was laid across the pillows, all the while Bradley made his way down the bed.

“More, bubs, please.”

How could he refuse, especially when you had asked so nicely? He bent forward to give you a sloppy kiss on the lips before working his way down your body, from your neck and collarbones, to your breasts through your nightie, and finally to right below your belly-button. From there, you readily allowed him to bend your knees so your feet were planted firmly on the bed and your core was completely exposed to him.

Even in the early morning light it was exquisite. You had the prettiest pussy Bradley had ever seen - and it was his, all his.

“Fucking gorgeous.”

You startled at the first touch of his lips on your thighs, but let out the prettiest little sigh when he sucked on the skin by your birthmark. There was another as he licked along one of your lightning lines. And another as he kissed the hood of your clit.

God, you smelled so fucking good and were groomed just the way he liked it - like the perfect, obedient, good girl that you were. And perfect, obedient, good girls got their pussy played with until they were babbling like dumb little sluts.

“- Would have thought this would be your first stop?”

Bradley chuckled, but didn’t stop dragging his fingers across your inner thighs and lower lips. “Yeah? What, d’you think I’d do? Just dive right in? Take you on the kitchen table?”

“I would’ve let you.”

Once the words had sunk in, he stopped teasing you. His elbows gave out beneath him and he groaned with his face pressed against the sheets. Fuck. That was a conversation for another time, but just the thought of you letting Bradley basically use you had him grinding his hips into the mattress.

You were so good.

He popped his head back up and slapped you - lightly - across your pussy. “You keep saying shit like that and next time I just might.”

In response, you arched your back and tried to close your legs around his head, but Bradley just tutted and spread them further.

“Uh-uh, need to have a look at her, I've gone three months without her.” Your hips jumped off the mattress as his fingers started playing with you, tracing circles over and dipping in and out of your cunt. “‘pretty pussy. She took such good care of you while I was gone, didn’t she? Look at you dripping for me, huh?”

His fingers scissored inside of you, dragging against your walls, while his thumb needled your clit. Your wetness spread across his fingers and he, in turn, spread it across your folds and inner thighs. He liked when you were messy. He liked to feel you all over his face.

“Bradley,” you whined. “Stop teasing.”

Neither of you really wanted that, so it didn’t even merit a response from him. Instead, he kept sliding his fingers inside you in and out, in and out and crooked them ever so slightly before he added a third. Above him, you gasped and jolted.

“‘Atta girl, arch your back, just like that.” You whimpered at his praise and kept rocking your hips in tandem with his fingers. Fucking glorious, such a good girl for da -

“- Bradley…” He peered up to see that you had one arm over your eyes, while the other was pawing at your breasts through your nightie.

“God, you’re sucking on my fingers so tight, I would believe you’ve taken anything up this pretty pussy in months.”

“‘Want your mouth, please, please…”

“Where?” his voice was muffled. Bradley sucked his lips around your thigh, right by your labia, but refrained from kissing you were you wanted him most. He wanted to mark you up everywhere, have your thighs and breasts and neck covered in little bites and bruises.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Good. Good. Good.

You whined. It sounded pathetic and he had barely even started. “My pussy. Please, Bradley? Please?”

Who was he to deny you? Because, god, you tasted so fucking good. It was hard not to absolutely devour you, especially after going for so long without you. Bradley slid his hands down from your hips to grab your ass and rut your cunt deeper against his face. As a reward, he got a slew of pretty little whimpers out of you.

He continued at a steady pace, alternating between probing your clit and slipping his tongue inside you. Above him, you arched your back and he pressed a firm hand on your stomach to keep you down.

“Bradley,” you cried as you rode his face.

God, you sounded so pretty now, he couldn’t wait to get you on his cock later.

Pretty girl.

Smart girl.

Good girl.

His girl with a body like Aphrodite.

“Ahhh - fuc - ahhh.” You made that sound and he knew, without even looking up, that your head was tipped back in pleasure and you were close. “Bubs,” your voice came out small, “want you - inside me, now.”

“Uh-uh.” Bradley pulled his head back, but continued fingering you. “You need to come first.”

Come on his face.

You shook your head frantically against the pillow. “No.” You gasped when he purposely plunged his fingers deeper. “‘wanna with you - ahh inside me.”

Somehow you grabbed the hand he had pressed on your stomach and you dragged it up your body. His knuckles brushed against the silk of your nightie until you eventually pressed sloppy, open mouthed kisses to your interlocked fingers. And all Bradley could do was say your name in censure, which ultimately came out heavy with need.

“Please? Want it to be together our first time back.” You whined pitifully. “Haven’t touched myself in days.”

All you had to do was pout and he was gone.

“Fine,” he smacked your thigh, “but I’m gonna make you come again after I finish inside you.”

“Yes, yes, anything, Bradley.”

You would be spent and whiny by then, it wouldn’t be hard.

After swirling his fingers once more around in your cum, Bradley held his fingers up to your mouth for you to clean them off. “That good?” You hummed around the digits before he retracted them and tapped your cheek twice. “Atta girl.”

Next, he shifted up on the bed so his knees were straddling your waist. He was achingly hard at this point and bit back a smile as you made grabby hands for his cock. It pulsed in your grasp and you swiped your thumb over the slit to rub his pre-cum over the head. Fuck, that felt divine. While you may have relished how much larger his fingers were than yours, Bradley loved how large his cock looked in your smaller hands. However, he’d already let your tender touches go on long enough - another minute and he’d come all over that silk nightie you hadn’t taken off yet.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” Your eyes were wide and you nodded.

Trusting, needy, desperate. Such a perfect girl for him.

“Wanna be full.”

He brushed the head of his cock against your pussy lips, making sure it was nice and wet and, god, you were fucking soaked and practically sucked him in. You whimpered and muttered something indistinguishable, but wrapped your arms around his shoulders and canted your hips up for more. Then, once Bradley slipped just the tip of his cock inside you, you gasped, but brought him closer. Your nails dug into his shoulders, hopefully pressing little crescents into the skin. He pulled back and slid in again, inch by inch, earning a breathy gasp from you every time.

Holyfuckingshit. You were so tight. So fucking tight, even after prepping you with his tongue and fingers.

Yours are so much bigger, though your voice echoed through his head.

You were so fucking soft and warm and wet and felt perfect around him. With each thrust he’d grunt out your name and you in turn would give a whiny Bradley and eventually wrapped your legs around his hips. And then you were also clenching down on him like you’d spent the entire three months doing kegel exercises.

“Fuck, you made me so hard - thinking about how much of a good girl you were while I was away, keeping this nice and tight for me,” he barely got the words out.

“‘do anything for - for you. ‘d let you do anything to - mmhmm - me,” you finished with a whimper.

Fuck. Your unwavering trust in Bradley always took him aback. Because you meant it. You really would let him do anything to you. If you had the slightest inclination that it would please him, you would do it. He had never had someone who trusted him that much. And that wasn’t something he took lightly.

With that thought in mind, he snapped his hips against yours in a particularly hard thrust that had you crying out.

“Mmm harder.”

He bent down to suck on your neck. This - the closeness - was why he liked missionary so much. It was perfect for this exact moment. There was plenty of time to take you hard and fast later.

“Oh, god. Feel so full - Bradley, Bra - Bradley!” With every utterance of his name, he drove deeper inside you. Harder inside you. You’d ride him next time, he’d make sure of it. But for now, breathing each other’s air, gasping against each other’s mouth, and feeling the sweat on each other’s brow, being so impossibly close to each other, it was hard to say where Bradley’s soul ended and yours started.

Yours and mine are the same.

He groaned your name and you opened your eyes to gaze up at him with an almost dazed expression. Grabbing the back of your knee, Bradley went in at a different angle, trying to get deeper. “Feel how much your little hole’s dripping? Just needed me to stretch you out again.”

“Mmmmm yes, yes, da-dley - ahhhh,” you cried out, “can I come? Please, please?”

Oh, you were such a good girl for him. Asking so nicely, so prettily. So properly. Thank god he had prepped you, he wasn’t going to last much longer, himself. It was kind of pathetic. Both of you were, to be frank. Obviously, you more than him in this instance, but -

“‘Course. There you go, sweetheart, come on my cock like a good girl.”

When you finally came a few moments later, it was with a strangled cry of his name that Bradley swore was the most beautiful sound he’d heard in months. As the shudder of pleasure swept over you and you tightened your core around him, Bradley hastened to find his own release. The slew of cries and whimpers against his lips as you tried to settle down only spurred him on further. He drove into you again and again and again.

He had to get there with you - had to. You clung to him and notched your head by his neck, only to graze your lips along the tender skin there and bite.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “‘You ready for me to come inside you, sweetheart? Know how much you missed it.”

You nodded against his neck. “Yes,” you whispered, “Bradley, please…”

He groaned your name. It sounded so good like that, so perfect. He had to say it again and again and again. With each stroke, your overstimulated pussy fluttered around him, pulling him towards his own orgasm. His jaw clenched and his back muscles tightened and Bradley could barely support his own weight over you for another moment -

“‘s good, bubs, feel so full.”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was it. That did it.

With a final moan of your name, Bradley came inside you, painting your pussy with his cum. His cocked twitched one final time as the last streams of cum filled you up. He notched his head against your shoulder and he breathed in your sweet scent.

Goddamn.

Once he settled down and caught his breath sometime later, he moved to pull out, knowing that when he did so, both your cum would drip down your thighs. Your gorgeous, thick thighs. He already needed to get lost in them again. And wasn’t that just the thing? Bradley was obsessed with you. He could never get enough of you.

“No, no, not yet,” you whimpered.

He stopped and pulled you closer, but slightly changed your position. There was some perverse part of him that wanted to make a comment about keeping you on his cock for the rest of the morning so you could get used to him again, but he refrained after thinking about the tone of your voice. You sounded so fucking good and docile and submissive. Such a good girl.

“Pretty sure you owe me another one…” You burrowed your head against his neck and moaned when he shifted. “How ‘bout I stay inside you? ‘That okay?” You nodded and your pussy tightened against him. “Good girl.”

Keeping you close, Bradley slid one hand in between your bodies to play with your throbbing clit. You arched your back up towards him, trying in vain to get closer, though that was nigh impossible - the two of you were already as close as two people could be.

Yours and mine are the same.

He needled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it back and forth, trying to get some moans and whines out of you. God, your body felt unreal. Still so warm around him, still so wet for him. All for him.

Mine, mine, mine.

As your body shifted, your pebbled nipples brushed against his bare chest and Bradley was remiss for not playing more attention to them earlier. But that could’ve been because you were still wearing that goddamn nightie. You were flustered and warm and your skin was glistening with the slightest sheen of sweat.

He bent his head down and mouthed at your breasts through the midnight blue silk. They were already hardened to peaks, desperate to be suckled on, especially after noting their new size. There would be time for that later, he had to remind himself.

For now, he nipped at the top of your cleavage and kept playing with your clit. You were so oversensitive, you were practically shaking in his arms. And in response, you raked your hands through Bradley’s hair, pulling on the strands. Fuck him. That felt divine, especially as he felt you tighten around him.

“Brad-ley,” you whimpered, “’s too much.”

“Shhh, easy, easy, there’s no rush.” He tipped your chin up. “You want me to stop?” You shook your head. “Take a deep breath. That's it. Good girl.”

Little whimpers kept escaping your mouth, but you burrowed your face against his neck and trusted him to take care of you. You nipped at the skin there and he hoped it would leave a mark; let everyone know that he was yours and only yours for the next few weeks.

Mine, mine, mine.

“I’ve got to take care of you, you were such a good girl while I was gone. My best girl, huh?”

“Mmmm.”

And that did it.

So proud of you.

You came with a cry and your walls fluttered around his cock once again. A sudden gush of wetness coated both yours and Bradley’s thighs. God, it was beautiful. You were beautiful. Your name kept running through his mind and Bradley realized he was actually muttering it against your lips through kisses. There were tears in your eyes and he thumbed them away before they could slide down your beautiful face.

“Hey, too much?” He kissed your cheeks, which unfortunately only made more tears spring from your eyes. “I didn’t hurt you, right?”

“No, no,” you shook your head, “I just missed you so much, think I’m overwhelmed,” you finished sheepishly.

The tension in Bradley’s shoulders eased and he smiled down at you. “Now you’re gonna make me cry, kid.”

“I love you.” The words came out quietly, but it was like they’d only just come out of your mouth before Bradley was saying them back.

“Love you, too.” The smile he got out of you warmed his heart and he pecked your lips before tucking your head under his chin.

The two of you laid there for some time with Bradley still inside you. In fact, he was pretty certain you may have dozed off at one point, but he didn’t want you to be too uncomfortable when you woke up later. With that in mind, he slowly pulled out and settled you on the bed beside him. You fussed a little, but Bradley kissed your forehead, heading it off.

He started with your name, “I’ll be right back, okay? Going to the bathroom.” You nodded at him, your eyes wide and trusting.

It was chilly out of bed, away from you, and Bradley only paused for a brief moment to slip on a pair of his sleep shorts from the dresser, before heading off to the bathroom to get a damp towel for you. He hastened back to the bedroom, now almost fully lit in the early morning light. You made such a pretty picture all tucked under the thick, white duvet.

“Bradley?” You stretched out underneath the covers and let out a little whimper. “‘m sore.”

“Shit, sorry,” he said with your special nickname tacked on the end. “Come ‘ere.” Despite his words, he came to you and dutifully cleaned you up with the warm cloth.

“‘s not your fault,” you slurred, “need to get used to it again. Missed you.”

The cloth passed over your thighs once, twice, three times, before Bradley brushed it against your core once, twice, three times. You sighed and gave him a lazy smile, which he easily returned.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Be right back,” he whispered.

You’d barely managed to get back under the covers by the time he came back from the bathroom. And then, with all the care and love you deserved at the moment, he bundled you up in his arms. You were so warm and smelled so pretty and your nightie felt so soft against his rough fingers. Everything about that moment was perfect. You were so precious. You pressed your cheek against his chest and he hoped you could tell how fast his heart was beating.

“I missed being with you like this, missed holding you.”

You pressed lazy kisses to his chest for a moment before you eventually tipped your head up to meet his eyes. “Can we stay like this? Just for a while? Don’t wanna get up yet.”

“‘Course,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “go back to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

--------------

When Bradley woke hours later, he did so slowly. He was pleasantly warm, he was finally sleeping on a true mattress, and you were slotted between his legs sucking his cock.

Surely, there were few better ways to wake up than to have your sweet lips wrapped around him. It wasn’t something you did often, at least in terms of waking Bradley up this way, but he loved whenever you took the initiative. It showed how eager you were - how desperate. Really, the only thing that could top it would be your pussy sunk deep on his cock as you rode him.

You had to have been at it for a while, for he was achingly hard by this point. His hips bucked up, thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth and you let out a surprised moan, no doubt having thought he was still sleeping, before taking him further. Your tight grip on his thighs left him relatively grounded, else he would have set off a round of those gagging noises from you that he liked so much. That wet mouth that he liked so much - fuck.

And you kept at it with Bradley’s hand grabbing your hair and guiding you. You kept working him, forcing him deeper down your throat. He moaned and you responded back in kind. Such a good mouth, such a good girl, taking care of him like this. It took him a moment to realize he was doing it, but he was mumbling your name, almost nonsensically.

But then he felt, rather than saw, you remove one of your hands from his thighs to presumably put it between your legs to play with your needy pussy. And that just wouldn’t do.

“Fuck. Get up here,” he said and then punctuated it with a growl of your name when you stayed down. The whimper you let out had him bucking his hips up off the mattress. “I’m serious.”

Almost begrudgingly, you eased him out of your mouth and the resulting, wet pop echoed throughout the bedroom. You looked far too pleased with yourself as you sucked on your finger - the one that had definitely been shoved up your pussy only moments ago - and hummed in response.

“Get up here - now.”

You braced yourself on either side of Bradley’s hips and teasingly brushed your pussy against his aching cock a couple times, practically begging for him to sink inside you. It would be so easy for you to ride him right now, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Bossy, bossy,” you teased and crept up his body, pressing kisses to his happy trail and chest along the way. But just as you were about to kiss him on the lips, he stopped you.

“Uh uh.” He stuck his finger in the air and mimed a circle. “Turn around.”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you…” Again, just Bradley twirled his finger around and smiled. “F-fine.”

“But,” at this you relaxed your thighs to press more of your weight on his stomach, “you have to take this off,” he finished by thumbing the navy fabric of your nightie.

It only took a moment for the smile to creep across your face, but you didn’t take your eyes off Bradley’s as you slid the dainty straps off your shoulders, one at a time. You didn’t take the nightie off, it still covered all of your stomach, but it let Bradley ogle your breasts unimpeded for a moment.

“Will that be all, lieutenant commander?”

He just shook his head in disbelief. “Cheeky little slut.”

And then you smiled, looking so proud of yourself for rattling him that he had no choice but to slap the top of your ass. Hard. You huffed.

“Now turn around.”

You rolled your eyes, but managed to turn around with Bradley’s assistance. The brief awkwardness of limbs strewn about was easily forgotten as soon as you got into position and he was rewarded with the sight of your glistening pussy in front of his face.

Bradley didn’t bother holding back a moan and started kneading your ass and running his fingers along your lower spine. Meanwhile, you wiggled down his body, dragging your breasts against his bare skin for the first time all morning. They were so soft, but your nipples were pebbled as they brushed against his stomach. He hissed when you lingered there for a moment to tease him.

Not one to let you get the upper hand, Bradley grabbed your hips to draw you close to his face and inhaled your sweet scent. Fuck. You were so good. You let out a mewl and startled when he first made contact with his tongue and then attempted to nose at your clit. That always got you going. Same with his mustache against the tender skin at the apex of your thighs. Maybe he would abstain from shaving on vacation, if only you’d ask.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he groaned your name against your skin and then he feasted.

Meanwhile, the way your hands were playing with his balls right now had him already teetering towards an orgasm. After only being able to fantasize about having your hands on him - your sweet, delicate hands on him - for the last three months, this felt divine. And then you put your mouth on him and he was well and truly done for.

“Fuck.”

Neither of you lasted much longer after that.

--------------

After your depravity filled wake up call, the rest of the morning took on a decidedly more chaste tone. The room was filled with giggles and the sounds of kissing as Bradley told you some of the more entertaining stories from the carrier and Australia, while you revealed that you had watched his 60 Minutes segment at least nine times. When he asked you why you’d watched it nine times, you just ducked your head and bashfully said it was because you sounded really smart.

It was finally around noon when Bradley said you two needed a shower and to have breakfast before embarking on the rest of the day’s activities, which included a tour of the house, complete with all the little goodies you’d amassed for him over the last couple months that he had glossed over last night, and getting ready for drinks with Nat, Caroline, and Max at six-thirty. Granted, the latter was six hours away, but Bradley had a feeling you both would be pretty slow to the take that afternoon. Probably would get a little distracted, too.

“‘m gonna take a shower,” his lips brushed kisses up and down your arms and over your once again silk clad breasts and he was rewarded with giggles, “you wanna come with me?”

“Oh!? Uhh - yeah, we could take a shower.” You pecked him on the lips. “Can you warm it up first, please?”

The pout worked - it always did - but Bradley still groaned, totally hamming it up. “Mmmm, I suppose...”

With one final kiss, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way into the bathroom. He flicked the lights on with a snap, going for full brightness on the dimmer, and turned around to give you a cheeky wink, only to see you worrying your lip between your teeth and staring intently down at your clasped hands on top of the duvet. He called your name and your eyes snapped up to meet his gaze.

“You good?”

You nodded and put a smile on your face. “Yeah, be right in.”

Odd. But then again, Bradley could’ve been reading too much into it. He hadn’t seen you since before Christmas, afterall. You were probably just tired. Yesterday had been a long day. And he had run you pretty ragged this morning.

The water had warmed up while he was going to the bathroom and was the perfect temperature by the time he finally got under the spray. Just as he was about to call out to you again, he heard you enter the bathroom - and promptly dim the lights.

“Woah, woah - hey!”

“Sorry!” you called out from behind the shower curtain. “I uhh - I just have a headache, don’t want the lights too bright too early in the morning.”

It was twelve-fifteen.

Bradley frowned and looked at your shadow moving on the other side of the curtain. You were standing up straight - he would almost call it stiff. It was an odd request, to say the least, but it wasn’t exactly pitch black in the bathroom now, just a little darker, especially from the waist down.

“Okay, just be careful when you get in - here,” he pulled the curtain back and held his hand out for you to step over the lip of the tub. You startled, but nevertheless took his hand. “There you go.”

The two of you stood face to face for a moment, allowing you both to get your fill of the other. It was definitely darker in the shower now, but Bradley could still make out your ample curves. Streams of water dripped down your chest as you tipped your head under the faucet and it was impossible for him to not watch as the droplets cascaded over your breasts.

They looked fucking glorious by the way - he was slightly put out that he hadn’t gotten a chance to really play with them in bed earlier - you had only given him a glimpse of them for a few moments - but there was always later. Or now? Now was also good.

“Did these get bigger?” The words were out before he could think twice and he cupped a breast in each hand. Your nipples pebbled as his thumbs passed over them, back and forth, back and forth.

Your eyes flew up to his face before glancing right back down at your breasts. “What? No, I don’t think - no.”

Bradley leaned back to catch your eye. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. They look great, feel even better, they’re just…”

“Oh! I guess I hadn’t noticed.” You turned your back to him. “Here, do you want to do my hair? Or I can do yours? Why don’t I do yours?”

Before he could even process what was happening, you spun back around and grabbed the shampoo bottle from behind Bradley and squirted some Ouai into your hands. He leaned forward so you could lather his hair up with the suds and appreciated your care in keeping them out of his eyes. For someone normally so dominant and in control, Bradley really did love when you fussed over him. He knew it wasn’t something you were comfortable with in every aspect of your relationship - taking charge like that - but it was nice in settings like this. Once the shampoo had set, he crouched down for you to rinse and then repeat the process with the conditioner.

“I think we need a bench in here.”

“Yeah?”

You hummed. “Just a little bump out, enough for someone to sit. You’re getting older, I wouldn’t want you to fall or hurt yourself during any rigorous shower activity.”

“Rigorous shower activity?” Bradley chuckled and nudged you with his shoulder before wetting your hair under the faucet. “You know, if I took all my showers with you, I wouldn’t have to worry about that, kid. Here, turn around, ‘s your turn.”

Gently, Bradley lathered up your hair and made sure to massage your scalp the same way you had done for him. You let out a pleased hum and then he repeated the process with the conditioner, though he might’ve used a bit too much.

Once you were both back under the spray, you rested your palms on his chest and peered up at him with wide eyes. You looked like you were about to cry and he pulled you closer in comfort.

You both stood in the silence of the falling water for a few moments before you spoke again.

“It just doesn’t feel real - all of this. I keep worrying that you’re gonna disappear again tomorrow. Or that I’m going to wake up or something. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And that was just the thing: Bradley didn’t know what he’d do without you either. He had never felt this way before; that there was someone else tied to him, someone else living for him, while he in turn lived for them.

“Hey,” he tipped your chin up, “you’re not the only one worried about that. But I have you with me now and I’m always gonna do my damndest to come home to you, alright, kid?”

“Alright.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, keeping him close, and pressed a kiss to his chest. “Love you, bubs.”

Bradley instantly tightened his arms around you. “Love you, too.”

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

Before long, your kiss on his chest turned into a kiss on the mouth and your hands roved over each other’s bodies as you shared the loofah and soap. “So broad, so strong,” you said in wonder as you roved your hands over his chest and thighs and chased away the bubbles.

And then, after multiple passes over your breasts at Bradley’s hands - it was unfair how good your breasts looked all sudsed up - it was time for a final rinse. He hopped out of the shower first and had a towel waiting for you when you got out, before you ultimately changed into your fluffy white robe.

The two of you completed your morning routines side by side in comfortable silence until Bradley went back to the bedroom to put on some running shorts and a t-shirt.

“You want breakfast?” He snuck up behind you at the bathroom counter and kissed your cheek.

You smiled at him in the mirror. “Yes, please.”

“Anything in particular.” He kissed you again. “Pancakes? French toast? Ooooo maybe hash browns and bacon, too? The works?”

You had been giggling while he had been kissing your neck, but you suddenly turned sober as he rattled off your options. “Oh, uhh - maybe some eggs?”

Bradley frowned. “Like scrambled?”

“Or poached? I’ve been eating a lot of egg whites lately…” With the way you were bundled up in your robe and with your hair still wet from the shower, you looked small - young. Egg whites?

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure, I can do some egg whites for you.”

Egg whites? Since when did you like egg whites? You had always liked your eggs scrambled and a little runny - with ketchup. Idly, Bradley remembered Max eating egg whites and low carb toast for the entire month of May to get in shape for yacht week in Croatia. He shook the thought away.

“Anything you want, kid.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a soft smile and a kiss on the check. “I’ll be down in a bit, okay?”

And with that smile and a promise, Bradley headed off downstairs to make breakfast.

Egg whites, really?

-----------

Bradley’s homecoming weekend extravaganza - your words - could only be considered truly complete with a family dinner at Maverick and Penny’s on Sunday evening. Penny wouldn’t hear of you two bringing anything to dinner, so all that was needed to do upon returning from a morning hike in Torrey Pines was shower and change.

You didn’t have to be there until six thirty, but it was already five forty-five and at least a 20 minute drive, so you were both a little more hurried than you were after yesterday’s shower. In fact, when Bradley got out of the shower, he was surprised to see that you were still in your bathrobe and staring at your half of the closet like it contained all of life’s mysteries. Granted, your hair and makeup were done, but you just stood there with your arms crossed over your chest, absentmindedly biting your thumb nail.

How long had you been standing there?

“If it makes it any easier,” you startled at Bradley’s voice, “I’m sure Mav will just be wearing a t-shirt and jeans.” Barely looking at the shirt he grabbed to go with his chino shorts, Bradley fell into your line of sight. “You good?”

You relaxed your shoulders. “Yeah, just…not sure what to wear.”

The two of you stood side by side to take in the full array of clothes in the closet. While not all of your clothes - some bulkier items and more formal dresses were in the guest bedroom - there were still dozens of options in front of the two of you. You took a hesitant step forward and eventually took a pair of boyfriend jeans off a shelf and held them to your chest. Just as you were about to grab a boxy oxford, Bradley snatched up a brightly patterned, tiered, sleeveless dress that would hit at the middle of your thighs. The empty hanger rattled against the rod, but it stopped you in your tracks, the oxford momentarily forgotten.

“This would look nice.”

Even to Bradley’s own ears, his voice sounded lame, almost a little desperate. But there was something about you choosing an oxford to wear after staring at your closet for ten minutes that gave him pause. You had such pretty clothes, it would be a shame for you not to wear them.

“It’s not too much?” Bradley shook his head and held the dress up to your body. “I bought it to bring on our trip, but now I’m not sure…”

“It’s perfect, trust me, you’ll look gorgeous. And you better pack it for Mexico, too, okay?”

“Okay.” You appeared a little flustered, but had lost the sad look in your eyes from moments ago, so Bradley considered it a win.

With a kiss to the side of your head, he told you to finish getting ready and that he would be downstairs when you were done.

After getting his wallet and car keys together, Bradley made his way to the mudroom to put on his new sneakers. Though you wouldn’t admit it, you had definitely ordered them for Bradley during one of your many Ted Lasso rewatches while he was away. He reminds me of you sometimes, you would demure when pressed. It was cute.

With one foot propped up on the bench to tie his shoes, Bradley noticed the row of jackets in front of him. He called your name. “You want a jacket?”

“Yes, please,” your voice carried from upstairs.

So, he grabbed your jean jacket, figuring it would look good with your dress, and got himself his oversized grey Navy crewneck sweatshirt. Maverick and Penny always liked to have drinks and dessert out on the back patio, and though it had been a relatively warm day for March, Bradley knew the breeze off the ocean would make it chilly later. Maybe they’d light the firepit and have s’mores? You loved s’mores even more than Bradley did, if you could believe it.

Just as he had gotten the jackets and threw his sweatshirt on, you appeared beside him. And just like Bradley had thought, the dress looked perfect on you.

“See? You look gorgeous.” You ducked your head and muttered thanks. “Here.” Bradley held your jean jacket open and helped you slip it on while you put on your sandals. And then you set off for Coronado in the Bronco.

-----------

After a lovely dinner filled with much chatter and laughter, Amelia and Penny dragged you upstairs to show you her dress for the sophomore semi-formal next week. This left Bradley and Maverick to clean up the dinner plates and get things situated outside on the patio.

It was completely beyond Bradley’s comprehension how to get Penny’s fancy fire pit started, but Maverick had a flame roaring in no time. The two sat across from each other - Maverick on one of the cushioned, wicker swivel chairs with Bradley on the matching loveseat - and sipped their beers in comfortable silence for a few moments. The sun had set about fifteen minutes ago, but the sky was still a kaleidoscope of pinks, purples, and oranges.

“Fine, I guess.” Bradley made a face. “‘s always weird doing some stuff again. We went to the store earlier; always takes me back that first time.”

“It’s the cereal. Too many choices.”

“Yes, thank you!” Bradley exclaimed, glad he had someone who could relate. Every time he brought it up with Nat or the guys, they just looked at him like he had seven heads. They went from having few choices on the carrier, to endless when on land. “And the chips. Too many options and sizes.” Maverick chuckled. “We went on the way back from Torrey Pines to get more Diet Coke and I wandered off like three times just to stare at the oversized boxes of Lucky Charms.”

Maverick smiled wryly and took a sip of his beer. “You don’t look as tired as you did Friday afternoon, that’s for certain.” Though the way he’d said it had been completely innocent, Bradley still blushed.

“Yeah, it’s been amazing. You should’ve seen her Friday night, she was so excited to make dinner and the house just -” he broke off, “it felt nice coming home to someone like that, I guess.”

Nice? I guess? Bradley sounded like an idiot. It had felt more than nice coming home to you. Coming home this time made him never want to leave again. But the real test would come tomorrow when you went to work. And Bradley would be alone for the first time in three months. Alone in your big, quiet, house. It hadn’t been quiet in three months. There was always something else going on around him. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow, he could do things on his own time and make his own food and pick his own clothes. He could have choices. Luckily, Maverick didn’t seem to notice his sudden unease.

“That was all she talked about last week.”

It took a concerted effort on Bradley’s part not to be jealous that you’d talked to Maverick so much last week when all Bradley had gotten were emails. Beautiful, heartfelt, smutty emails, but emails nonetheless. Before Friday, Bradley hadn’t heard your voice in weeks.

“She did a really good job. The cake was unreal, I had a piece for breakfast this morning.” That got a chuckle out of them both. “It’s nice to see her comfortable doing something outside of her wheelhouse. She kept sending me pictures from her lessons and even cooked for me on Facetime once.”

Just as Maverick appeared to be gearing up for a follow up, probably about how he’d gotten the leftovers from those cooking lessons, Bradley rushed out: “But we really talked Friday night - about a lot of things. It was good, though.”

“What about?”

“Kids,” the word slipped out before Bradley could think better of it, “family, that kind of stuff.”

Maverick pondered this and took a sip of his beer. “And you didn’t mind talking about that right when you got back? Seems like a lot.”

“No, it was good.” Not looking at Maverick while he was talking made it easier for Bradley. That way he couldn’t see his pity. He shifted in his seat. “I’d rather we talk about it now anyway, that way it isn’t hanging over our heads on vacation and whatnot.”

There was hesitancy in Mav’s voice when he spoke next. “So, you looking to get engaged soon? It’s been what? A year?”

“Almost, yeah. But uhh no, no.” The denial was firm in his voice. “Probably still a year off at least. It’s gonna happen - we both want it to - but there’s no need to rush it. I’m excited for it to be just the two of us for a little while, you know in the house and everything.”

“Good, good,” he sounded pleased, “you two have a good thing going, I wouldn’t want -”

“- We’re not going to have kids until I’m out of the Navy.” Bradley said the words in a rush and he really hoped Maverick would ignore how thick his voice sounded.

But of course he didn’t. Maverick snapped his eyes over to meet Bradley’s, but he was suddenly focused on a loose thread on the upholstery. Shit. Why had he said that?

“Oh.” It was a long time before either of them spoke again. Bradley finished half his beer. “Is that your idea or hers?”

“It’s both of ours.” Bradley winced realizing how defensive he sounded. “Well, I kind of brought it up first, but she was the one who said we’d wait.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Bradley nodded. “Jesus, Bradley, you’ll be at least forty by the time -”

“- Forty-two.”

“Listen, we both know that a million things can happen between now and then and maybe the timing will be all wrong, but we want to wait. If it gives either of us the slightest peace of mind, we’re going to try and wait.”

The silence was heavy this time around.

“Well, I guess it’s good you’re talking about it now - even if I don’t entirely agree with it. You should be enjoying your life together, not waiting around…” Maverick seemed to think better of what he was saying and took a sip of his beer. A beat passed until he spoke again. “Also reminds me of some stuff I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

Maverick waved him off. “It can wait until after your trip. Just some estate planning and whatnot, I know the four of us are in a really good place, so figured it was a good time.”

Estate planning? The four of us? The whole family was involved? Bradley’s curiosity was most definitely piqued.

“Oh, err yeah, sounds good -”

“It’s nothing bad - promise!” he quickly backpedaled, “More paperwork than anything -”

“What’re you ladies gossiping about?” Amelia breezed onto the patio and messed up Bradley’s hair before she plopped down on the other end of the sofa. Naturally, he in turn had to elbow her in the side. Not hard, mind you, but hard enough for her to kick him back.

“We were actually just talking about the dance coming up next Friday,” Maverick replied smoothly and Bradley stifled a snort. Since when had he become such a good liar? Regardless, Amelia preened. “I was just about to tell Bradley about your date…”

“What?!” Bradley exclaimed.

Amelia pouted, clearly put off that it had been brought up in front of him. He liked Amelia, he was protective of her, fucking shoot him. “Mav likes him!”

Maverick slightly cowed under Bradley and Amelia’s stares. “He’s nice, they’re on the debate team together.”

Clearly misconstruing his comment, Amelia frowned. “Listen, I know you were rocking the middle part and puka shell necklace when you were on the debate team, but it’s cool now…”

“Puka shell necklace?” your voice chimed in from the doorway. “Pete never mentioned that when he was telling me of your high school heroics.”

Bradley’s cheeks colored. “Yeah, well, it was the late 90s and I thought Pacey Witter was cool.”

“The 1990s!” Amelia feigned hysterics and got a chuckle out of you and Maverick. “Next you’re going to be talking about where you were on 9/11 -”

“I was in kindergarten, we couldn’t go outside for recess,” you teased.

You sat yourself between Bradley and Amelia on the sofa and he threw his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer. He knew you’d get cold soon, but didn’t want you to run inside to get your jacket or a sweatshirt just yet - he just wanted you beside him. Plus, there was also the fear that you’d get one of Maverick’s sweatshirts from inside if you forwent your jean jacket and that just wouldn’t do.

Amelia groaned, but still turned her attention back on you. “Okay, but you were definitely Joey Potter, breaking hearts left and right. No debate captains for you.” She stuck her tongue out at Bradley for good measure.

“Ha, I wish. No, I was actually kind of lame in high school, very angsty.” Bradley knew why, but Maverick and the Benjamins were still in the dark.

“Really?” Amelia frowned.

It was easy to understand her confusion since you were just about the coolest person she knew - her words. Amelia had told Bradley so the first night he’d brought you over for dinner. Can you ask her where she got her sneakers? A couple weeks later, you and Bradley had gotten Amelia the very same sneakers for her birthday. She always blushed when you wore them at the same time.

So, the next words out of your mouth clearly surprised her. “Oh, yeah, I was knee deep in Mazzy Star and Vampire Weekend. The dark preppy vibe, if that’s even a thing?”

“Jesus, I wasn’t even that bad.” Bradley squeezed your shoulder and got a smile out of you with his teasing.

Maverick and Penny were talking off on their own, so you turned your full attention towards Amelia. “I was in a car accident my junior year of high school. Kind of set me back with school and then - well, private school kids are kind of vicious so…”

“What happened? Sorry - that was -”

“- It’s oka -,” you started to say, then seemed to think better of it. Because nothing about that night had been okay. “I was in a car with someone and we got t-boned. I got pretty banged up, broke my right arm and leg. It seemed like I had a perpetual concussion for the next six months. He just broke his arm,” you finished wryly.

He.

He just broke his arm.

Bradley pursed his lips at the mention of Teddy Cavanaugh. Fucking prick. To say you’d gotten pretty banged up was putting it way too mildly. Thinking about it again made him just as upset as it had that night all those months ago on your fourth date when you’d told him the entire story.

And more recently, Bradley had had the unfortunate experience of meeting Teddy over Thanksgiving when Bradley had played golf with your dad one afternoon up in Berkeley. As a rule, Bradley tried not to hate people on sight - at least not anymore.

It was such a cunty move to get the same car.

Plus, what self respecting twenty-nine year old still went by Teddy anyway?

But the truth of what happened that night wasn’t exactly appropriate for a post dinner conversation, nevermind the fact that Amelia was only a year younger than you had been that night.

The realization made Bradley freeze.

You had only been a year older than Amelia when it happened. Amelia, who still slept with the stuffed cow her grandparents had gotten her for her sixth birthday. Amelia, who still played with her American Girl Dolls when she didn’t get invited to a friend’s house on Friday nights. Amelia, who still made Bradley a new welcome home banner after every deployment. Amelia, who still huffed whenever Bradley ruffled her hair as a hello. Amelia, who Bradley promised he’d teach how to drive that spring.

You were Amelia. You had been that young, that sweet, that trusting and Teddy Cavanaugh had thrown it all back in your face.

Bradley could feel his chest tighten, even as he ignored the chatter around him. Maverick and Penny had joined in whatever conversation you were now having with Amelia, but all Bradley could do was sit there.

Without a word, he pulled you closer, so you were bundled up in his arms. It was still proper enough in front of his family, but he needed to have you close. Your legs were plastered together alongside Bradley’s right side and you burrowed yourself under the arm he draped across your shoulders.

Everything was right as it should be. Bradley was with his family, Bradley was with you, here. Not on a carrier in the middle of the Pacific or the passenger seat of Mr. Cavanaugh’s Porsche.

Here. And nothing bad was going to happen here.

Soon, the conversation changed to whichever HBO show Amelia and Maverick were excited to watch later that night, while Penny went inside to get the dessert: s’mores.

“‘You need any help?”

Penny waved you off. “I’m all set, everything’s already measured out.”

Once she was gone, Bradley pressed a light kiss to your shoulder and you shivered. “‘You getting cold, kid?” You nodded. “‘You want my sweatshirt?”

“Please?”

“I’ve got one in the mudroom if -”

“No, it’s fine,” Bradley cut off Maverick, “she can have mine.”

Quickly taking off his own sweatshirt and putting it over your head, Bradley didn’t even have the time to linger on how pathetic he sounded. Who did Maverick think he was, offering to let Bradley’s girlfriend borrow a sweatshirt? Didn’t he realize Bradley was more than capable of taking care of you?

“Thanks.” You smiled at him, now cozy and wrapped up in the still warm sweatshirt and Bradley nearly forgot why he had gotten so huffy in the first place. Nearly.

“So,” Penny popped back out onto the patio with a heaping tray of marshmallows, a bowl of chocolate squares, and stacks of graham crackers, “who wants s’mores?”

“Me, me!” Amelia called, pushing her way towards the tray and subsequently dishing out the marshmallow sticks.

Eventually, after Bradley had to blow out yet another marshmallow - Oh, shit! Not again! - you took over s’more duties. Just as well, really; yours were the best. You turned marshmallow roasting into an art form - a perfectly golden, gooey art form. While you didn’t eat any with graham crackers, you did have one you roasted over the fire with the chocolate already stuffed in the marshmallow. You smiled at Bradley’s shocked expression and then wordlessly made him three exactly like it.

All the while, you answered Penny’s questions about how your dad and Mary were doing and when they were next coming down to San Diego and if they would want to get dinner with her and Pete, just the four of them? But when you started nodding off against Bradley’s shoulder, he knew it was time for you both to head home.

-------------

Mon, March 22, 1:43pm

How was your meeting?

it was fine, but ran over and i didn’t get to have lunch before my one o’clock ☹️

At least have a snack or something, don’t want you wasting away on me, kid.

i won’t! what’re you up to?

Stopped by the base for a bit, saw the guys and then went to the gym.

I might get a haircut later.

you can’t get a haircut without me! i don’t trust you not to get it too short! plus i like it a little longer

Oh yeah?

i like when it gets curly at the ends, it’s always really soft too. can you wait till after the trip? please bradley please?

Fine, but only because you begged me��

i’ll make it up to you later, promise and i did not beg you…

Or you could make it up to me now?

Is the office busy today?

no it’s pretty quiet

You wore that navy skirt, right?

yeah with my white silk blouse

What’d you wear underneath it?

bradley! i don’t know, boring underwear?

You wanna show me? Just to check?

you can see when i get home, i’ll even try and sneak out a little early

Wanna see now

Show me

fine, just give me a sec. i’ll go to the bathroom

At your desk

Now

bradley!

Sweetheart I’m aching

[image: Mr. 7.5 Gs]

fuck holy shit bubs what were you doing before you texted me?

Jerking off, I’m bored

charming

Wanna be inside you

fuck bradley wish i was home to take care of you god you’re so pretty hold on

Keep thinking about you in your office, acting all proper and then I’d barge in and fuck you on that fancy desk of yours

[image: miss ‘the one day i’m wearing plain underwear’]

God such a good girl for me

Are you wet

mmmm getting there this is so hot unless i get fired

I’d bend you over

Take you from behind

You’re always tighter that way

[Sent with Siri]

bradley

Need your mouth on me

I’d make you get on your knees and suck me off in front of the window

Fuck your throat

[Sent with Siri]

bradley you’re not playing fair

No you’re not

Need more pictures of you

[Sent with Siri]

What do you want me to do? [Sent with Siri]

Shove your fingers up your cunt

Knuckle deep

[Sent with Siri]

I’d have to use three to feel like yours [Sent with Siri]

Need a video need to hear you too

[Sent with Siri]

[for bradley’s eyes only.mov]

Fuck you’re fucking gorgeous like that

Always do just what I ask

Fuck I need you so bad

[Sent with Siri]

Need you too fuck [Sent with Siri] i can’t believe you got me to do that at work

When are you coming home?

-------------

There was something up with you. The thought kept running through Bradley’s head Tuesday evening while he was on his run.

Bradley would never have described you as skittish, but that’s how you had been acting over the last couple days. You were still affectionate and kind and you. And had told him countless times how much you loved him and how happy you were that he was home.

So, it had to be a physical thing. You were guarded whenever he touched you - whether you were being sexually intimate or he had just grabbed your waist to cuddle you closer on the couch or in bed. It was always your waist or stomach area, really. That was the hot spot.

At first, Bradley thought he’d been too rough with you that first time back, but he knew you trusted him enough to tell him if that was the case, so that was out. Plus, later that morning when you were riding him, you’d asked him to grab your hips so hard he’d leave behind marks. You liked whenever he marked you - and he liked whenever you marked him. And you weren’t shying away from sex with him, not at all. In fact, you were pretty insatiable.

Then, he’d thought you might have hurt yourself while he had been gone and had a scar or something that you hadn’t wanted him to see? But your skin was free of new blemishes, baring the zit on your cheek you’d been complaining about since Saturday night.

At one point, Bradley had even contemplated that you might be pregnant. He had been gone for three months, an entire first trimester. But something about the theory didn’t sit right with him.

First, you would’ve fucking told him on Friday night, especially after you both talked about waiting to have kids and how you were on the same page. Because Bradley wasn’t dying in an F-18 with a family at home.

Then, there was the fact that you had an IUD and the possibility of getting pregnant on an IUD was even less than on the pill (<1% a year - he’d looked it up). And finally, you’d be showing by now, even if only a little bump. But now that he thought about it, in all the days that he’d been home and all the times you’d had sex, Bradley had only seen you completely naked once. One or both of you were always partially clothed. And he would have noticed - right? Your boobs were definitely bigger, but it wasn’t - that wasn’t it, no, he was sure you weren’t pregnant.

It had to be something about your body, your stomach in particular. Because you were still affectionate, still wanted him, were still relatively yourself, your boobs looked great, and you loved him. So, why did you practically jump out of your skin whenever Bradley’s hand grazed your stomach?

He would give you until Friday to tell him on your own before he asked. That would be a week from when he’d gotten home, more than enough time. Plus, maybe being on vacation would get you to open up a bit?

Because this just wasn’t you. You didn’t really keep any secrets from Bradley. He wouldn’t be so naive to say that he knew everything about you, but in general you were honest with him. Was there a hint in one of your emails? Some little detail he had glossed over in his haste to read any scrap of news from you, in your voice? Bradley had read all of them at least three times, some even more, but maybe he had missed something?

The run he’d gone on to clear his head left the problem no more clear than when he’d set off forty-five minutes ago. He ran up the back steps to the mudroom and toed off his sneakers before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. You’d be home soon, he needed to start dinner.

Last night, you’d marinated some steak tips and made some rice pilaf, while Bradley roasted some vegetables. There was plenty of leftover steak for dinner tonight, he just had to decide what to make with it. Taking a peek in the fridge, he took a quick inventory of anything you’d need to finish before leaving Thursday morning. A couple peppers laid in the crisper along with an eggplant, which stumped him as neither of you liked eggplant. He could do steak fajitas with those? There were always fresh tortillas around. Content with his plan, Bradley grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino from the side door and poured himself a glass.

As he put the bottle back, his eyes landed on the chocolate cake, perfectly ensconced in glass snapware, on the top shelf. How the hell was there still leftover chocolate cake? In addition to what you’d had Friday night, the two of you had had some for breakfast Sunday morning - well, Bradley had had some for breakfast Sunday morning and you’d let him feed you a couple bites. He shut the fridge door with a little more force than necessary and started prepping the peppers and onions.

You loved chocolate cake. And you’d worked so hard on it. Why the fuck weren’t you eating it? Plus, now that he really thought about it, you’d barely had a s’more at Maverick and Penny’s and instead kept yourself occupied by lovingly making Bradley’s for him. And then there were the egg whites.

It would be a lie to say that none of it had seemed off at the time, but looking at all the incidents together just showed how truly off things were. And then coupled with how off you were with other things like your clothes and stomach - oh.

No way. No fucking way. That could not be it.

No, no. You couldn’t be worried about how -

Just as he was finishing up the peppers to go along with the onions he’d already prepped, Bradley heard the back door open.

“Bubs?” you called out, “I’m home!”

“Hey!”

“How was your run?”

Bradley quickly washed his hands and went over to meet you in the mudroom. And there you were, looking polished and professional in a black tweed, sleeveless dress that he hadn’t gotten a glimpse at before you’d left for work that morning, thanks to the blazer you’d thrown over it. The bodice of the dress was decorated with what he hoped were functional gold buttons that were just begging to be ripped open. And to top it off, you were wearing semi sheer black tights and those black slingbacks he liked so much.

Actually, you were leaning against the wall trying to unbuckle those slingbacks he liked so much. But all Bradley could focus on as you asked him about his afternoon was the curve of your hip and the fact that your breasts looked unreal in that dress.

His pretty girlfriend. His pretty girlfriend who looked so smart and absolutely fuckable right now. His. His. His. His -

You stopped trying to take off your shoes and shot him a questioning look as you approached. “Bradley?”

“Sorry, I uhh - yeah, it was fine. Saw the Thompsons finished their patio - is that a new dress?” His fingers idly brushed against the fabric and you froze.

“Oh, uh, no. I’ve had it for a while. Since the move, I’ve been going through my clothes trying to see what I actually wear and - I know it’s a little small now, it keeps riding up my hips a bit, but I still think it looks nice on top…” You ventured out of the mudroom. “Does it look bad?”

No, it very much did not look bad on you. It was definitely tighter than anything you normally wore to work, but it looked good. And weary from the work day with your hair a little mussed and the dress a bit askew from when you tried to take off your shoes, you looked absolutely divine and Bradley had to have you immediately.

“No! I’m just,” he goaded you further into the kitchen, “surprised you wore it to work - in a good way!”

The shy look on your face gradually slipped away and you crowded into Bradley’s space. “In a good way, huh?”

His hands found their way to your waist and he waited for a reaction from you. Getting nothing but a smile, his thumbs rubbed circles along your hips and he brought you chest to chest.

“I gotta ask, though?” You hummed. “Do these really work?” He dragged his fingers up and down the front of your dress, spending the slightest bit more time along the square neckline and your breasts.

“And what if they did?”

Bradley groaned your name and rested his forehead against yours. “Then I’d have to unbutton every last one of them right now.”

You kissed his neck, paying no mind to the stubble he had been growing since Friday night. If you’d asked, he would shave it in a second, but you loved the roughness against your neck and inner thighs. As your lips kept up their targeted attack on his neck and jawline, your right hand slid between your bodies to palm his cock through his athletic shorts.

“But if you did that, then you’d have to take me right here…”

Barely a beat passed before Bradley grabbed your hips and plopped you down on the kitchen table. It shook under your weight. Your chest was heaving at the sudden action, in turn drawing his attention to your breasts and those tempting buttons. They reminded him of the ones on his old Naval dress coat from Oceana.

“Lemme help you out there.”

His nimble fingers made quick work of the four brass buttons that revealed your black lace bra. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell you were pleased he didn’t tear off any of the buttons. Knowing you, his spoiled, prissy girlfriend, the dress was probably expensive. Good.

Next, Bradley pushed the wide straps over your shoulders, leaving your black lace bra as his final impediment. “So pretty,” he muttered into your chest. Your head tipped back and you pulled him closer, deeper.

“You didn’t send me any texts today,” you barely got the words out as Bradley made quick work popping one of your breasts, then the other, out of your bra. It was technically a lie; he had texted you, but it had been a do you know where my Theragun is text, not a show me your pussy right now text. “I even wore pretty underwear for you.”

Bradley tutted against your left breast. “Guess I have to make it up to you now.”

His mouth latched onto your nipple and he needled the little nub with his tongue. You carded your fingers through his hair and gave the ends the slightest little tug.

“Thought about you all day, bubs,” you whispered the words against Bradley’s ear before nipping at the lobe.

“Yeah?” Granted, if you kept rutting against each other like this, he’d probably cum in his shorts - there really wasn’t a lot of substance to the running shorts he was wearing - but god. He needed to sink inside you.

Today was the first time since he’d gotten home that you hadn’t fucked in the morning. You had had to hustle out of the house for an early meeting and even Bradley had an eight-thirty physical at the Naval Medical Center. There had barely been time for a heated makeout against the refrigerator - to say nothing of a good fuck - before you’d left with your lip gloss slightly mussed.

“Would’ve come home sooner if I knew you were wearing these fucking shorts.” You slipped your hand under the waistband of his compression shorts that were borderline painful at this point and grabbed his cock with an expert touch.

“Fuck…” Bradley allowed your touches to go on for a few more moments before he pulled back, knowing he’d spend in your hand if you kept this up. “Hold on.” You pulled your hand back and he yanked his t-shirt off over his head and threw it on the breakfast bench. Your hands crept across his chest before they eventually rested on his shoulders.

But now it was Bradley’s turn to touch you. Your tights felt particularly soft beneath his hands as he inched higher and higher up your thighs. He loved when you wore stuff like this, so prim and proper. Especially when you got all squirmy beneath him. Cheeky little thing. The heat was pouring off you where Bradley was touching you between your thighs, even though your underwear and tights. Your arms wound around his neck to pull him closer and press your lips to his in a bruising kiss. God, he could kiss you for hours; he never tired of it.

“Bradley…” you sighed through his ministrations. “More, bubs.”

He smiled, of course, anything for you. Anything to be inside you. But first, he had to ask: “These the thick ones?” You froze under him. “The tights? The thick tights? Like from Thanksgiving?”

They had a more formal name, but he was focused on other things at the moment, namely if he could rip a hole in them to get to you faster. Over Thanksgiving, he’d found out the hard way that your tights were often rip resistant. Which really put a damper on a portion of your wine cellar escapades.

“Oh?” The furrow between your eyebrows disappeared. “Oh! The tights! No, no, they’re cheap ones from J Crew or something.”

Good. Then he wasn’t going to apologize for what he was about to do. Because Bradley had to fuck you, he had to be inside you right now. Something about you and being off and those tights and that dress and his run and the subsequent endorphin rush.

He had to have you.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bradley tugged at the seam of your tights and ripped a hole in them large enough for his hands - and his dick - to poke through. You sighed when he broke through the nylon and slid your panties to the side to circle your clit with his thumb.

“So good,” he muttered reverently.

God, what a pretty picture you made. Dress rucked up around your stomach, chest bare, and pretty pussy on display just for him.

“More, please, Bradley.” You whimpered while he teased you with one finger, then two. “Anything. Need it - you.”

“You get stressed out at work today?” You nodded and then burrowed your head against his neck, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. “Poor thing, da - I’ll take care of you, yeah. Make you forget.”

Bradley thrusted his fingers deeper inside you, crooking them just slightly so you’d buck up against him. You bit his neck when he tweaked his fingers just right. There you go, just a little more and you’d be ready for him. God, he was aching. He couldn’t fathom teasing you anymore. He needed you, now.

“Just need to slip inside you, sweetheart. You made it so perfect for me.” Wet. Hot. Tight. Perfect. His. “There we go, just like that, good girl.” Bradley took a moment to line his cock up and slid inside you in one motion. “Fuck,” he punctuated the word with your name, “good?”

“Yes, yes.”

You got into a steady rhythm that kept increasing. The table creaked under your combined weight and had anything been on it, it surely would’ve toppled over by now.

You tightened around his cock and met his hips thrust for thrust. A wave of heat swept over Bradley’s body and he could feel you slipping deeper into a lustful haze. Knowing he was also close and would be near useless in moments, he hiked your left leg higher up on his hip so your heel was digging into the back of his thigh, anchoring you to him.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Bradley said mindlessly.

Your faces were so close, you were breathing each other’s air, stealing the word’s off the other’s lips. Yours and mine are the same. You cried out suddenly and snapped your eyes up to meet Bradley’s brown ones. God, you were beautiful. You both were beautiful. This was beautiful. Being together like this was beautiful. It was wet and loud and messy, but it was beautiful.

Everything about it.

“‘m so close,” he finished with your name on his lips like a plea. “Wanna wait for you.”

“Don’t, ‘ll be right there.”

His thrusts eventually got sloppier and slower, but he could still feel you clenching around him as he spent himself inside you.

“Fuck,” he panted your name. “That’s it, that’s it.”

“‘s full, bubs.” Your nails dug into his shoulder, centering him so he could turn the focus back on you.

All he needed was a few more shallow thrusts and a punch of your clit to get you there alongside him. You came with a cry, utterly spent, but sated.

Your legs relaxed their hold against his thighs, but you didn’t totally release him. Meanwhile, he pressed kisses across your cheeks and lips, before finding himself notched along your neck.

“There you go, good girl. Did such a good job, huh. So beautiful.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a few moments, all Bradley could hear was your breaths panting against his cheek, while your index finger moved lazily across his shoulder blade. But then you started shaking.

And at first he thought it was from being overstimulated until he realized you were shaking from silent giggles. Bradley picked his head up from where it was buried in your neck and leveled you with a look that had you properly bursting into laughter. He wanted to make some smart comment, something cheeky, but the gorgeous smile on your face had him losing his feigned stoicism and he started laughing right alongside you.

“So,” you said after your laughter subsided, “what’s for dinner, bubs?”

--------------

The following morning, Bradley poked his head into the dining room where you’d made up your office for the day. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why you weren’t using the office upstairs, but he held back. He liked that you were downstairs, he liked that you were close to him.

Of course he’d seen you work from home before. But there was something about seeing you holding meetings and taking calls for the first time in your home that made him smile.

And though you were taking a half day to prepare for leaving tomorrow, Bradley knew you’d be checking your email and Slack for the rest of the afternoon before officially logging off for the next 10 days.

10 days in Punta Mita - just the two of you, no distractions, no emails, no training runs, nothing but the sun, sea, sustenance, sleep, and sex.

Just you and me, kid.

Bradley inched further into the room and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m gonna go for a run, but should be back for lunch.”

You took out your Airpods before responding. “Sounds good, how much are you thinking?”

“Probably a quick 10k?” It had been ages since Bradley had run his usual route through Balboa Park, so these last few days had been a treat.

“‘A quick 10k,’ he says. I should be done by the time you get back?” He nodded. “We can have lunch and then I’ll head out on my errands.”

Errands? “Oh? I didn’t know you were going out?”

You sat up straighter and fully focused on him. “Yeah, I have to get my nails done and then have to pick up a couple things - like your special sunscreen...”

“Can I come?” he asked, completely ignoring the sunscreen comment. It wasn’t special per se, it was just high SPF since he burned easily.

“Really?” You sounded surprised. “It’ll be pretty boring.”

“No, I wanna come with you.” I wanna spend time with you.

A bashful smile appeared on your face. “Okay, I’m trying a new salon.”

“Ditching your old stomping grounds?” Bradley asked, referencing your old neighborhood near Gaslamp.

You nodded your head. “Figured I’d try someplace around here, but the only one that looks promising is way up on 30th?”

“I think we can make due with that,” he pecked your cheek, “alright, I’ll see you in a bit, kid. Don’t work too hard.”

“Har, har, see you soon.”

Bradley shot you a wink and set off. Who knew, maybe he’d set a new PR in his haste to get back home to you?

And sure enough, after his quick 10k through Balboa Park and the surrounding neighborhood, Bradley bounded up the back steps and quickly disposed of his sneakers and his sweat stained grey t-shirt on the mudroom floor. It had been stupid to even wear one in the first place, he’d had to tuck it into his waistband before he hit the first half mile.

“New personal record!”

Your face lit up with a smile as Bradley came into the dining room. “See, now, how do I know you just didn’t milk a 3 mile run or something?”

He rolled his eyes and gestured down at his torso, which was gleaming with sweat, even in the soft mid-day lighting currently cloaking the dining room, and showed you his running app for good measure. “Does this look like I milked it?”

“Come ‘ere.” You held your arms out.

“I’m all sweaty, kid…”

“Nope, don’t care, please?”

Hey, if you weren’t going to complain that Bradley was too sweaty or smelled, then he wasn’t about to put you off. He wrapped his arms around you over the back of the chair and put his chin on the top of your head.

“You know, if you like the scent of someone’s sweat that means you’re soulmates…”

“Is that right?” You sounded amused.

Bradley burrowed his face in your neck, forcing a giggle out of you even before he pressed butterfly kisses everywhere. “Mmmhhmm, yup. You always smell perfect.”

“That’s just my perfume!”

“Nope, just you kid.”

Bradley could feel you relax and let out a sigh. The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, content to just be with each other, until your Mac dinged with an Outlook notification. You stretched your arms out in front of you to reply to the email, but Bradley didn’t let you go. As he watched you type out a response to your coworker about if ESG investments were just virtue signaling or not, his eyes caught a glint of gold on your wrist.

“You really wear that bracelet everyday, huh?”

You turned your head to look up at him and he was pleased to note you looked incredibly flustered. “Of course I do. You got it for me.”

The matter of fact way you responded had him blushing. “Guess I’ll have to get you the necklace for your birthday…”

“You better not!” He just kissed your cheek. “Bradley, I’m serious! That’s too much - especially for just a birthday.”

“Then I’ll get it for you for our anniversary.”

“Bubs…” You were pouting now and it only made him want to get you the necklace more. “It’s too expensive for something like that; I looked it up online.”

“You’re no fun.”

And so he would continue to be denied the pleasure of seeing you in the matching jewelry - at least until he wore you down. You did have a point, though - the necklace was almost twice as much as the bracelet. But then again, you bought Bradley little (and not so little) things all the time?

Idly, he recalled the jibe he had ignored from Hangman the other day regarding his leave: not all of us have rich girlfriends to take us on two week vacations. Bradley’s reply that it was only for ten days, not two weeks hadn’t exactly done him any favors.

But it was a points game! It was practically free. (He knew it wasn’t, but…) And you were going dutch for all the incidentals and room charges. It was going to be perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.

Ten glorious days of no work, no distractions, just the two of you.

You turned around in your chair so you were properly facing him. “Do you want to get lunch out? Make an afternoon of it? We don’t really have much in the fridge, so it’s either lunch or dinner out and I know you still have to pack.”

A smile crept across his face and he kissed your nose. “I’d love to go to lunch with you. You sure you won’t get sick of me? All this one on one time?”

You just shook your head. “Nope, not that easily. Well, unless you sit next to me at the salon, I’m not very chatty while I’m getting a pedicure.”

“Woah, woah.” Bradley held his hands up and you grabbed one to examine it. “Since when am I getting my nails done?”

“You’re getting a pedicure at the very least. I don’t want to have to look at your weird feet on the beach all week.”

“Oh-ho, now you’ve done it.”

He bundled you up in his arms and started tickling your sides. That was your sweet spot. And hopefully if he was tickling you, you’d forget to be jumpy when he touched you there. He hadn’t forgotten about that.

“Bradley! Bradley,” you giggled. “Okay, okay, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. No pedicure.”

But Bradley did end up getting a pedicure, even if it only entailed getting his feet buffed. If pressed, he would say it was because he wanted to sit in the massage chair and the nail tech told him he could only sit in the chair if he was getting his nails done. That was the only reason why. It wasn’t because of how pretty you looked while you were smiling at him out of the corner of his eye, like you couldn’t believe he was really there.

Absolutely not.

--------------

“Do you need any help packing?”

Bradley nodded, he hoped he didn’t look too sheepish. At thirty-six years old, he absolutely could pack his own clothes, but he liked when you fussed over him and made sure your clothing was complementary to each other. It was sweet. Plus, you always packed stuff he hadn’t thought to bring or wear together.

The two of you were a well oiled machine. Bradley would roll his underwear, pajamas, and gym clothes into his packing cubes while you helped pick out his bathing suits and later his dinner and day clothes. To his great surprise, you managed to fit all his clothes - for ten days, mind you - into his Samsonite carryon. His toiletries and extra pair of shoes and other incidentals would go in his backpack.

Once his suitcase was zipped up and ready to go, Bradley nodded towards your Rimowa stashed by the bedroom door. “‘You need any help? You don’t normally check?”

You normally lived by the carry-on rule, so it seemed out of character for you to check a full-size bag. Which, of course, wasn’t the first thing that seemed out of character for you since Bradley had gotten home. But he promised himself he’d wait until you came to him with your problem. Or till Friday.

“Oh, uhh, yeah, I guess I just have more stuff this time.” You shook your head. “I packed earlier while you were taking a nap, but thanks.”

He clicked his tongue. “Guess it’ll be a surprise then.”

“Hmmm, I’ll let you see my shoes?”

Bradley sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on his elbows. “You’d do that? For me?”

You giggled and then mimicked his pose on the bed, except you made sure to snuggle up next to him, all earlier awkwardness gone. “I’d do anything for you actually.”

“Sap.” He kissed you.

“Nerd.” You kissed him.

“See, now you’re killing the vibe,” he teased. You giggled and kissed his shoulder through his t-shirt. “You ready for tomorrow?” You nodded. “You’re not gonna get sick of me, right?”

You shook your head. “Never, even if you are a nerd who gets pedicures -”

“- I was coerced! The massage chair!” You giggled. “Alright, alright, walk me through tomorrow.”

At this point, Bradley was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, while you were tucked under his arm, peering up at him.

“We should leave by six if our flight’s at eight forty-five, especially if we want to go to the lounge beforehand. It’s spring break-ish and I’m not sure if it’ll be crazy in the terminal, so the lounge might be a good idea.”

“Got it, United lounge for breakfast, good.”

“Flight’s like three hours.”

“Mmmmm, perfect for a nap.”

You chuckled. “I think we get in around one o’clock with the time difference and everything. The hotel’s sending a car and then it’s like an hour drive to Punta Mita.”

“So, if we play our cards right, we could be on the beach by three-o-one?”

“Oh, for sure,” you feigned seriousness, “If anyone can, it’s the two of us.”

And ain’t that the truth? Bradley held his hand up for a high five, which you heartily returned. “Nice job, kid. It’s gonna be great.”

Ten days. You and Bradley at some tony resort in Mexico. No cares, no worries for ten whole days. Fucking perfect.

Everything was going to be perfect.

-----------

If at all possible, in the three months that he had been gone, Bradley had gotten even more handsome.

Sure, you’d seen a grainy image of him every two or so weeks over Facetime and had noticed him mentioning going to the gym a lot on the carrier. You’d known he was going to look different. His hair was going to be longer and blonder and his skin darker. He was still your Bradley and you loved him all the same.

But seeing him on the 16 inch screen of your Macbook compared to all six foot one inches of Bradley Bradshaw in person was an eye opener.

Not after how often you’d been skipping pilates to spend some extra time in the office or all the meals you’d eaten on the go or out with clients. You should have taken your mother’s words to heart at lunch two weeks ago when she had told you to watch your figure, boys like Bradley are used to certain standards.

That afternoon when you’d gotten back to your apartment, you’d gone straight to your walk-in closet and scrutinized every inch of your body in the full length mirror.

Certain standards.

Why did you let her get in your head? Why did you let any of it get in your head? It wasn’t true, it wasn’t true. None of it was true.

Certain standards.

And then, when you finally picked Bradley up on that cloudy, late March day, you wore an oxford of his and a pair of baggy jeans. You still looked cute, you still looked like you put in an effort, but you didn’t look as dolled up as some of the other wives and girlfriends and partners and maybe you should have? Maybe you should have worn a cute little sundress and forgotten your underwear or some other ridiculous thing? Let him fuck you in the back of the car right in the middle of the parking lot?

That wasn’t you, though. That wasn’t either of you.

Certain standards.

But when he fucked you softly and slowly that first morning back - only after originally falling asleep on you, which you tried not to be too upset about - and you told him how much you loved him and missed him, you did so with the lights completely off and with your chemise on before snuggling in his arms.

It was stupid. The entire thing was stupid. You knew that. And you knew you’d feel this way until you confronted Bradley and he ultimately proved you wrong. But doing that wouldn’t fully stop those feelings from brewing inside you either.

And yeah, for the first few days you’d been too caught up in the ecstasy of him finally being home - in the home that you two finally shared - to really give it much thought. But tomorrow you were going on a ten day long beach vacation to Mexico and you couldn’t help but toss and turn all night wondering if you were up to certain standards.

-----------

a/n: oops! this was super long, sorry! but there's such an interesting story here and i'm so excited to show how it'll unfold in the next chapter when they're in mexico!

tagging a couple people: @sometimesanalice @withahappyrefrain @cherrycola27 @notroosterbradshaw @gigisimsonmars @pisupsala @dissonannce @laracrofted @heartsofminds @briseisgone

#comment reblog

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secretlysimpash · 3 days ago

Text

It was never just “one night” for Graves warning(s): gn reader, lil bit of smut, use of pet names (doll, baby, baby doll, darlin’), slight pulling of rank/power dynamics (reader is a Shadow under Graves’ command, making him their superior)

It started as one night together almost a year ago, after a successful mission. A one-night stand with your C.O, that’s what you called it. One night turned into another, and then into one evening in your Commander’s office, bent over his desk. But every private moment you spent with him was a secret, something to be hidden, and he seemed to be pretty good at keeping it a secret...Though every "last time" was never really the last time.

And now, here you are…Early morning, bare beneath the blankets beside him, trying and failing to remove yourself from his bed.

“I should really go–"

“Nonsense, doll…You have the day off.”

“But I gotta go to the gym–”

“No you don't.”

“I should at least go get some breakfast in the mess–”

“Nope. Lemme bring you something, you stay right here. Besides, I bet you’ll be walking funny, you'll get a lot of stares…”

“Graves.”

The shit-eating grin on your Commander's face is infuriating, and you'd be even angrier if he didn't make you see stars through some earth-shattering, life altering orgasms last night. Hell, the fact your in his bed, in his quarters is probably breaking some rules as it is. You've lost count of how many times you've been in this position before, but usually he was out before you got up or you were able to slip out while he was sleeping. Or you'd both have to dress quickly to make it to a meeting, your conversation going from pillow talk and aftercare to business in a matter of seconds.

You sit up and run a hand over your face, letting it slide down your neck. When your face screws up slightly from a dull ache in your neck, Graves lets out a low laugh.

“Sorry ‘bout that…Had to mark my territory somehow. Let the boys know you're spoken for.”

You exhale heavily, glancing over at Graves to meet his blue eyes. Ones that seem to hold a permanent glimmer of mischief.

“Spoken for…?” You ask, glancing over at him. “Spoken ffff–Fuck's sake. We shouldn't be doing this, we could get in trouble.”

“With who? The Commander?” Graves retorts, letting out an amused chuckle at your exasperated sigh.. “We ain't getting in any trouble by doing this, darlin’...”

Before you could think of an argument, or any response, the words get caught in your throat when you feel Graves shifting impossibly closer to you. He rests a hand on your bare chest, trailing it down as he kisses at the bruises on your neck. His marks.

“Just stay with me, alright? Stay with your man…” He says against your skin, kissing a path down your neck, to your shoulder…

“My man?”

“Mmhm…” He hums in response as he slowly makes his way under the covers. “Yours…Been yours since we started this, baby…And you're mine.”

“Graves, we–”

“Graves…? Baby doll …Use the right name…”

It doesn't take long for him to descend under the blankets, settling between your legs. In no time, you're seeing stars again and moaning his name.

Phillip, Phillip, Phil…

Like a prayer falling from your lips as his mouth and fingers bring you over the edge.

In between kisses and bites to your inner thighs, he mumbles something about giving you his last name along with a nice ring someday soon, taking you back home, making a proper spouse out of you...Making sure you never worry about your ranks again and that you won't have to do any more dangerous Shadow missions with the most you should worry about is what you should make for dinner for the two of you (and maybe your kids)…

But maybe you misheard him.

#graves x reader #phillip graves x reader #cod smut #cod x reader #graves smut

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ofstarsandvibranium · 23 hours ago

Text

To Have and To Hold: Part 12

Fandom: Marvel - Moon Knight (Mafia AU)

Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader, Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Summary: To ensure you’re always safe even after his passing, your father, a mob boss, makes you marry his right hand, Marc Spector. You don’t necessarily hate Marc, but you don’t get along either. Therefore, this marriage of convenience may be a bit difficult for you.

Warning: smut - oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v

A/N: surprise! idk who still cares for this but one of my new years resolutions is to finish some of my unfinished series so here we are.

Series Masterlist

It's late when Marc arrives to your father's home, well, his home now. He anticipates you're already asleep as he heads to the office to decompress after that very long talk with Layla and everything else he had to deal with today.

He had to admit that he did still care for the woman. Did he love her? No, but he'd always want the best for her.

Laying everything out on the table was good for him. He admitted his faults, apologized for being so stubborn and never reaching out until now.

Layla was still stubborn and firey as ever, but she understood. She accepted Marc's apology and offered up her own as well.

Then she asked if it was possible to try again.

That's when Marc admitted he had fallen for someone else, for you. He didn't tell her the whole truth behind his relationship with you, but he explained that it was unexpected. And it's true.

He didn't expect to fall for you when he agreed to the proposal your dad set out for him. Then the more time he spent with you, the more he understood why everyone called you Sunshine. You're sunlight personified.

You bring warmth and joy to everyone you meet, even Marc. And Marc thought he'd never feel this way again after Layla and all the bad he's done. But you brought something out of him, you allowed him to open himself up to love and light.

Seeing Marc's face when he spoke of you, Layla could see that Marc had genuine feelings for you. He seemed happy and she couldn't deny him that, despite everything that he's done and what happened between them.

So when Marc presented the divorce papers, she signed them.

They said their final good-byes and wished each other well.

After that, Marc immediately brought the papers to the L/N Family lawyer to set everything in motion. Then he had meetings for the rest of the day all around the city.

Body tense and craving the numbness alcohol can provide, Marc steps into the office, heading straight for the bar cart.

You switch on the desk lamp at the desk, causing Marc to jump.

"Fuck, Y/N! The hell you still doing up?"

You scoff, twirling your father's letter opener in your hands, “I think there’s some important things we have to discuss, Marc.”

He sighs as he pours amber liquid into a glass, “I agree, but it should wa-” his words are cut off as the letter opener flies at him, landing into the wall beside his head.

He looks at you with wide eyes, "The fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"No, Marc, what the fuck do you think you're doing?! You keep hiding things from me! What else are you hiding from me, Spector? Huh?" You stand from your father's desk, slowly stalking to your fiancé, "First you don't tell me about the arranged marriage my dad planned, then about your DID. You don't warn me about my dad's suicide plan. And now you don't tell me how you're still married?"

Marc gulps down the liquid and places the glass onto the bar cart, "I was planning on telling you-"

"When?! After we got married?!"

"No! Before that, I swear I planned to, but there's so much shit going on! I didn't want to stress you out because you're going through a lot!"

"Doesn't matter! I still had the right to know!"

"I know! And it's whatever now. She signed the divorce papers, I brought them to the family lawyer. They're being filed as we speak and it should be finalized by the time we get married. " He sighs again, running a hand through his hair and glancing at the letter opener lodged into the wall.

He looks back at you, "Listen, from now on, I promise, no more secrets." You scoff and roll your eyes, but he continues, "I'm serious, Y/N, no more secrets. This was my burden to bare and I handled it. Whatever happens now, we'll handle it together. I'll tell you everything that went down today if it makes you feel any better."

"You make me so angry sometimes," you say through gritted teeth.

"I know," he replies as he slowly closes the distance between you.

"Sometimes you make me want to scream."

"You always can. I won't judge," he says sincerely as he stands before you, hand hovering over your closed fist at your side.

"I really want to punch you," you mumble as you look at him.

"Do it," he says in a serious tone, "I've kept you in the dark for a lot of things, but I won't anymore. I'll let you do whatever you want. If you don't want anything to do with this business, fine. If you decide you want to partake in it, I'll let you. You have control here, Y/N," he slowly grabs hold of your wrist. He unravels your fist and guides your hand to his chest, "I let you in, Sunshine. I wanna give you my heart. It's up to you what you do to it."

You stand there speechless. For the first time, you don't know how to respond. Something in Marc's words stirs something in you. A fire in the pit of your stomach comes alive and begins to burn inside you.

Not knowing what else to do, you grip his shirt with the hand that rests on his chest. You pull him close and press your lips to his in a heated kiss. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, one hand gripping onto his hair.

Marc's hands go to your waist, pulling you even closer to him. You feel the heat of his body against yours as he kisses you back. His mouth moves against yours and you're so distracted by the taste of him you don't even realize he was walking you towards your father's desk.

He lifts you and places you onto the desktop with ease and he pulls back to look at you.

There's a haze over his eyes, his lips are slightly puffy from kissing you. His hair is disheveled from when you were gripping it.

"Do you want this?" he asks in a low whisper, his fingers grazing along the hem of your shirt.

You nod, "Yes. Fuck, Marc, fuck me."

He doesn't hesitate to pull your shirt off you in an instant, then working on your pants.

You never thought your first time with Marc would be in your father's office on his old desk. But fuck it, it's the heat of the moment. You're just hoping your dad isn't watching you about to get fucked in his office from above.

You're naked as the day you were born, laid out on the wooden desk. The cool surface a complete contrast to your body that feels like it's on fire.

"Need to get you ready," Marc murmurs as he drops to his knees, pulling your legs to rest on his shoulders, "Been dreaming about this pussy," he mumbles in between your thighs.

He licks a stripe up your slit and it causes your breath to hitch. Honestly, you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

He spreads your lips apart, delving in with a careful taste. He hums and smiles up at you, "Sweet, just like I imagined."

You whine in desperation, "Marc-"

"I know, baby. I know. Already desperate for me, aren't ya?" His thumb reached up and draws slow careful circles around your clit. The bud already hardening underneath the pressure.

You hiss out a "Fuck!" Your jaw goes slack when you feel his mouth on your again. His tongue collecting your slick, devouring you like a starved man. Your fingers weave through his locks, gripping tight, and keeping him place.

You grind up into his face and eyes staring into yours as you use his face for pleasure.

You see the lust in his eyes, the hunger and desire for you. Fuck, that look alone could make you cum.

Speaking of which, you let out a moan as you grind harder against his mouth, "Shit. I'm close," you say and it makes Marc immediately pull away.

"What-"

"Shush. The first time you cum is on my cock," he says as he immediately unzips his pants, pushing them and his underwear down enough to free his dick.

He grips himself at the base, the tip just hovering over your entrance, "This still okay?"

You roll your eyes and wrap your legs around him, "Shut up and fuck me, Spector."

Marc smirks and teases your entrance with his top. He coats himself in your slick and then slowly enters you.

Your head drops onto the desktop as he fills you, "Goddamn you feel good."

He gives an experimental thrust into you and then smirks when you moan in pleasure. He then grips you by the back of the neck and pulls you to sit up. He holds you close to him as he fucks into you.

With each snap of his hips, the desk beneath you shakes and creaks. A few of the knick knacks tip over, some pens roll onto the floor. Neither of you care in the moment, obviously, too lost in the lust.

"Harder, Marc. Please. I want it." you beg him with pleading, lust filled eyes.

"You want me to fuck you harder?" he asks in panting breaths.

You nod, "Make me forget. I don't want to think about anything else but you."

"Fuck, keep talking like that, it's gonna be over a lot sooner," he groans, thrusting into your faster and harder.

You chuckle and press your lips to his. He happily kisses you back as he fucks into you. One hand holds onto your thigh while the other is in-between you two, working your clit.

You pull away for air, your lips grazing against his. In short breaths, you murmur out, "I'm sorry I was a bitch."

He chuckles while he continues to fuck you, "It's okay. I deserve it."

"Did you really mean it? You'll give me control whenever I want it?"

He nods, "Whatever you want, Sunshine. I just want you to be happy." He leaves you speechless again, but it's fine, especially since you feel that winding in your stomach grow tighter and tighter.

"I'm close."

"Give it to me, baby. Lemme feel you. I got you, baby."

He fucks into your harder, deeper. You're sure the desk will break any moment now by how hard Marc's fucking you.

"Fuuuu-mmf!" Marc swallows your cries with a kiss. He feels the fluttering of your pussy around him and he feels in absolute bliss.

"Shit," he groans, and pulls out, jerking himself off just above your pussy. He enters you again and gives you a few more thrusts before pulling out and cumming right onto you.

He's a sweaty, panting mess and you're sure you look the same. As he catches his breath, he reaches onto the desk at the tissue box. He takes a few and wipes up the mess he left on you as well as your own mess. He then wipes himself off, tossing the remnants into the bin beside the desk. You sit up with a groan, rolling your neck and shoulders.

You sigh and look up to the ceiling, "Sorry, dad."

Marc snorts and helps you off the desk. He catches you when you lose your footing, a smirk on his face.

You roll your eyes, "Don't even."

"Didn't even say anything."

You sigh, gathering your strewn out clothes, "Let's shower and go to bed."

"Yes, ma'am," Marc murmurs, wrapping an arm around you and guiding you out of the office.

"We still need to talk more, you know," you say as you both climb the stairs.

He lowly chuckles, "In the morning. We'll talk. Promise," he pauses to kiss your head and then continues to guide you to, now, your shared bedroom.

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector imagine #steven grant imagine #jake lockley imagine #moon knight x reader #moon knight fic #moon knight imagine #lani writes

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poorrichardjr · 2 days ago

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The talk of war

When the election was rolling around I heard a lot of republicans complain about how they believed Kamala would lead them into world war 3. It was kind of a stupid complaint, though they did have some grounds for it. As I heard one extremely stupid republican say on the day of the vote, "Kamala has all the worst warmongers in the republican party supporting her." He was right about that, but wrong about so much else he said that day trying to intimidate his friend into voting for Trump.

Now, I greatly appreciate that so many people were worried about war that they would choose the option they believed wouldn't lead them to war. The problem is, the other guy has never been the dove they believed him to be. More than once he nearly took us to war while he was in office the first time, but the military stepped in numerous times to keep him from being a complete and utter moron most of the time.

Of course, now that Trump is getting closer and closer to stealing the reigns of power again, he is doing exactly what he did last time - threaten war with half a dozen different nations. This time he seems to want to go after our allies. Maybe because Putin and his advisers are telling him the best way to stay and maintain power in this country is to start a war.

This isn't just some talking point or vague belief. Bush Jr used his popularity that came from 9/11 to start another war that he threatened while he was running for office - an attack on Iraq. He lied us into that war, but with a war comes expanded powers to the presidency. We instituted the Patriot Act, we tightened all sorts of security around the nation, and we looked askance at anyone who had the temerity to protest the actions of our brave and valiant president.

Trump wants to be feared and "respected" like Putin, Xi, and Un. He wants people to stand at attention when he walks into a room. He wants people fawning over him at every second. The problem is our presidency doesn't offer much of that. Even though those who are your allies will give you some of that, the rest of the population will call you out, call you names, or simply tell the truth that the person in charge is an ego-maniac or an idiot.

Too many people are disregarding this talk of war, annexation, and invasion. I don't really expect Trump to attack Canada or Greenland. Such an act is futile. However, there are republican members in Congress who are all in agreement about us retaking the Panama Canal or invading Mexico on the grounds that we would be taking out the "cartels". Members of the House have floated a plan for Trump to retake possession of the Panama Canal and more than a few of them have openly suggested military invasion on Mexico.

It really is only a matter of time before Trump declares war on someone. His first targets are going to be the immigrants and all the protesters who will push against it. All of those people will be jailed if he gets his way, and there will be more than a few willing police departments around the country. After that he will need something bigger to maintain control and get him the "love and adoration he craves." I expect sooner or later they are going to slap the label of terrorist on American protesters, as if they don't already do that, and use it as a pretext to restrict freedoms.

I am not really sure whether Trump is stupid enough to start a war with Panama or Mexico, though I am not going to put it past him. The man is a dunce and has no knowledge or understanding of our history in this part of the world. The thing is, he is going to start a war. Whether the start of it is on his own people or some outside enemy, he is going to do it. For a man who craves power and wants to keep it, there is almost no better way in our country than to maintain it than to blame someone else for our aggressive actions and then say we "can't switch horses midstream."

#politics #america #donald trump #republicans #lies #poorrichardjr #war #Mexico #Panama Canal #talk of war #power

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simplegeneral · 2 days ago

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Wof AU Burn

I have wrote several posts about the sisters, the war and my AU daughter of Burn, Oasis, but I never wrote something that consolidated what this Burn was in the context of my AU.

I have had Burn written differently along the years, from as close to canon as possible, to so bizarrely different you might have called her Bubbles, for she was so harmless, she would probably be an old grandma of the DoD, not a general.

I have seem over the years some incredibly cringy Burn apologists, which I do not understand, by trying to justify her actions, they don't make you see where she was coming from, but actually worse by the fact she felt threatened, judged or outright offended by some dragonets, like BRUH.

Even if I believe Burn was the best choice, purely because a leader matters only by their capacity to keep the state together, not how caring, good or kind they are, and Burn simply was the perfect choice between Blister's self-fighting followers and Blaze's harmless incompetence.

So... After a long tangent, what would my version of Burn be?

Well, for starters, she is not a villain, but an antagonist, as for book 1, the villainy was already Scarlet's role. Another one would be Blister, which would be the main villain of the arc, not just almost a side character of book 2 and an unbelievably stupid genius of book 5.

Before Oasis' death, Burn was a general, it was her thing, as her mother's before her and a tradition her brothers and father followed, with the only exception being Blister, which Oasis denied any training fearful of her schemes and Blaze for well... simply not being up to the task.

After Oasis' death, Burn grew more paranoid and aggressive, resembling slightly her canon self as her emotional control went out of the window. But above that, she wanted to present herself as a fitting queen for the sandwings, a noble warrior, the queen not afraid of making the hard decisions when the time came, and the SandWings simply respected that, for the common folk, a strong leader who protects them is far more worthy than a harmless one or a manipulative schemer.

So Burn has nearly total SandWing support in the war, in contrast to Blaze's large supporter numbers in canon.

Advancing forward to the brightest night, Burn doesn't kill Hvitur, she doesn't even meet him, because:

1º- She doesn't believe in the prophecy and is very dismissive, so she won't waste her time solving a problem that was Scarlet's (that will become far more evident later)

2º- The SkyWings were far quicker to find and pursue Hvitur than she would ever be, so they capture him and end up dropping the egg, because at a night of frivolous festivities, they were drunk and completely careless.

3º- Those SkyWing soldiers were executed later, because by the principles set by the first queens, killing an egg is an unforgivable crime, a crime not even Scarlet can simply commit without an immediate call for her head to be off her neck, and even if Hvitur was captured and would later die at her arena, he would have made sure those soldiers were punished.

4º- Scarlet's killing of the eggs in the wingery is reasoned by her with the mystical idea that somehow the moons had cursed those eggs, which she had them painted secretly to look like animus and firescale eggs, thus justifying her actions of destroyed all of them. Her subjects were scared, but understood such course of action following the SkyWing laws. However, Scarlet would save one large egg, which would hatch to Peril and Sky (never found by Wren, his name is Meteor).

Skipping time forward, the DoD would escape after their guardians tried to kill Glory and would be immediately captured by Scarlet (who would always fly with guards, because she leaving alone out in the wild was so unbelievable stupid, an assassin would quickly off her.) The DoD would fight in her arena as in canon but skipping to the next day, Scarlet's hatching day.

This is where I rather strength the dynamic of Burn and Scarlet from the canon, Burn despises Scarlet, she thinks her big show is a frivolous waste of time and resources, but has to play along, because she is one of the few dragons Burn can not bark orders at, because Scarlet does what she wants, and if you don't believe, be ready for she to switch sides on a heart beat.

Burn watches the DoD dismissively at first, but each time they prove their will to live and resist Scarlet, Burn grows more interested in them, there was one thing she found rather amusing, watching Scarlet fail at her big clown show.

Same as canon, Glory spits on Burn, who by pure luck and side sight pulled Scarlet in front of her who had the brunt of her acid. She flies away to bring her soldiers to capture the DoD, while Scarlet is taken away to her palace and the SkyWings chaotically leave the arena. The DoD are freed by Peril and her fireless brother, Meteor, who join them and rescue Kestrel along their way to the Mud Queendom.

Later that day however, Burn has had enough of Scarlet, from the insults to her mother (the only thing that can take Burn out of cool) and her waste of time, Burn murders Scarlet at her very throne room and declares Ruby will be the next SkyWing queen. The rather weak and submissive new SkyWing queen obliges to the demand, but her army is not so fond of she being nothing but a puppet of Burn.

Following canon, Burn wants the DoD, not to murder them, but she isn't exactly inviting them for a tea party either, she wants to make them chose her as queen. She sends search parties through all the Sky and Mud Queendom, but fails to overall locate them, until she grows rather tired and orders the massing of her army to battle again at the Summer Palace, her strategy was simple, if the DoD are fleeing from her, then she must destroy her sisters first, until they are either useless or they chose her.

The Summer Palace battle was a success and I will time skip again because there goes book 2, 3 and 4 where Burn doesn't has much relevance, lets get to book 5.

Now, Burn's interest in weird things is one I often debated with myself either I should remove or not, because its a villainy trait I think makes her character distinguish from others, but it doesn't necessarily helps her case as a fitting queen she portrays herself.

I decided to keep it, but I followed Burn's rather canonical pragmatic side, the DoD can be useful to her, so she will not kill any of them (because doing so would ruin her chances with the others), so she is interested in Sunny oddness, but will not kill her yet.

Addax is a different case, I made him rather kidnap Sunny, not to gift her to Burn, but because one DoD was walking around and he simply couldn't let her escape when this was the greatest chance they ever had to finally locate them.

He brings Sunny to the stronghold, where she meets Smolder and Sandstorm. Now, Sandstorm is a completely different character in my AU, almost worth of his own big lenghty explaination post, because his canon self is an obnoxious and loud dragon, and I literally can not understand why Burn would keep him alive, he didn't even seemed to be particularly useful at all. She would just kill his ass.

But Sandstorm here, he is a kind listener general of hers, and secretly her love interest, but shhh, this is literally something NOBODY have to know, not yet anyways. He has an uncanny calmness to him and is very caring and gentle with Sunny in her stay at the stronghold, similarly to Smolder, he does think twice before locking her in a dungeon, wishing to help his queen reason with Sunny properly.

The main problem comes to... The DoD technically chose Blister. Her manipulation of them was successful, then Sunny, angry for being locked up at the Sky Palace and at Burn and Scarlet, will not be so cordial either, so the tensions are rising up, because the young sandwing will rather die than tell anything even close to the location of the DoD, because she believes Burn (by all Blister's sweet lies) is a monster.

Before Burn's arrival though, Thorn and the Outclaws attacked the palace. An incredibly daring move, no one has besieged the stronghold through the entire length of the war, yet this diverse and desorganized group of idealistic rebels had the daring the IceWings didn't, and the SeaWings never could.

The battle is of course almost a complete disaster for the Outclaws, and Thorn, to save her soldiers, surrenders herself to Sandstorm to reunite with Sunny. After a brief reunion, Burn and her main force had arrived, the hope for their survival was dim, Sunny was desperated, she was not so willing to die as she thought.

Burn meets with them, and Thorn, being a hot-headed almost equal to Burn, snaps snarky comments to each other, things about how Burn left the den to rot at the talons of criminals, and Burn saying she had no choice, the war was more important than some settlement, and Thorn saying she will defend her dragonet from anything she tries.

Thorn however, escalates to the next level. She challenges Burn, not for the throne, but for the right to leave with Sunny unharmed. It could be said the entire stronghold was speechless, but Burn accepted.

Nobody expected this known criminal lord would stand up to Burn, but Thorn was decided she was far better than this, she stopped the criminal scum at the den, she alone stood up when everyone else cowered in fear, and she would do it again.

Through luck and cleverness, Thorn actually holds up to Burn for a while, but her overwhelming strength and fierceness would eventually hit Thorn, sooner or later. In a single charge, she throws Thorn several dozen meters away into the ground, before stomping her heck, ready to deliver the final blow, as old princesses would.

Thorn's eyes had fixed on Burn, filled with regret, for not being strong enough for Sunny, but she wasn't afraid at all, she was angrier than before. Before Burn could do anything, Sunny's desperate cries as she advanced towards them, now being held by the soldiers, begging Burn to not do it, she had a moment to think.

Killing a dragonet's mother as she cries out, was not something Burn would really do. Even if such mother was Thorn, quite literally a thorn on her side, challenging her army since last year. Above that, killing Thorn would make sure the DoD would not chose her at all. (At this point, the DoD have showed their words are more powerful than the talons of any dragon, thus it would not go well for Burn had they stood and against her).

In a rare gesture, not seem quite often, Burn releases Thorn and both of them stand in front of each other. She declares as she won, she will not allow them to leave the stronghold until further orders, but she gives her word she will not harm either of them.

After the situation deescalated, they all entered at the stronghold as the night came, Sunny and Thorn were even offered a dinner with the soldiers, Sandstorm and Smolder, a sign of the things to come. Burn may not throw a party at them, but now she was offering them tea.

Thorn refused to leave Sunny alone at all moments, but time had come for them to meet with Burn, this time, preferrably on different terms. Burn was blunt and direct, she wanted the location of the rest of the DoD, but Sunny refused to speak. Burn's gestures so far were nice, Sunny was almost challenging her beliefs on Blister's lies, but Burn was still too hot headed to lead the SandWings, right?

Sunny tried to distract Burn with a truth, she talked about the NightWing tunnel near her stronghold, to which Burn had snapped in anger, the NightWings were collaborating with Blister all along, not only the prophecy was false, but worse, it was a plot. Sunny was sad to be reminded of that, but at that right moment, she knew better.

Before departing to immediately destroy the tunnel, Burn had reassured Sunny that she was open to speak about any further Blister's lies she had told her. Sunny was not fully ready to have her entire beliefs collapse once again, but she was willing this time, Burn so far had hold all her words truthfully, even at her most angry.

They followed Burn and her soldiers, guiding them to the tunnel, to which Burn immediately ordered her soldiers to put explosives and destroy it, but before they could blow it up, Sunny listened to voices within and she realized, the DoD had come for her.

Clay, Starflight and Glory's heads showed up from the tunnel, in what they could only believe was a trap. Burn was most amused the DoD came right to her, while Sunny tried desperately to calm them down and not make things any worse. Burn had the tunnel destroyed and brought the DoD to the palace, for her, victory was now within her talons.

Burn had a message sent to Tsunami, the last DoD she still doesn't have, ordering she to come there or her friends would be executed. Burn was buffling, but you do not take anything she says as a bluff, ever. Sunny also convinced Burn to include in the message a note to bring Blister with her, as well as sending one to Glacier and Blaze too, calling it a big conference the DoD would make to chose the new queen.

In the meanwhile, Sunny explained all the lies Blister had told them with the help of Burn, to which Starflight with a heavy heart admitted he was tasked to further such lies to them. Now the only DoD who didn't know that was Tsunami, whom was most likely coming with Blister to show Burn a good taste of her own remedy.

Within two days, all the queens and Blister and Blaze reunited at the stronghold, to which immediately tensions rised up. Burn and Blister snarled and hissed at each other while Blaze kept distance. Blister spoke how she wanted to reunite the family after such pointless strife, bringing gifts for both Burn and Blaze.

Despite Blaze believing her, Glacier forbidden she from opening the box, while Burn outright threw the box away, knowing Blister's machinations. Tsunami angrily shouted at them, she still believing Blister had the best intentions and the only one actually trying to do something to end the war. But before the DoD could explain to her, Blister moved to her plan B, she pulled a blowgun and fired two poisonous dart at Burn.

The enormous sandwing fell into the ground, roaring in pain and weakened, a part of Blister's plan, weaken her sister so she may properly kill her. Blister challenged Burn for the throne, and immediately jumped into her. Burn tried to get up but was pinned down by Blister, who adored every second of her sister being helpless.

Both the DoD and the SandWings shouted at Blister for her unfairness at the fight, to which distracted Blister, who hissed back at them, giving Burn enough time to get up and roar at Blister, who cowered in fear at looking her sister back up, in disbelief.

Burn charged at Blister who screamed for her guards to release the dragonbite vipers through the great hall of the palace, her plan C, soon chaos spread through the palace, many dragons stampeding the DoD. Blister herself had left the stronghold with her followers, clearly defeated.

Burn ordered her guards and anyone able to recapture or kill all the dragonbite vipers of the palace. After a hour, they all had been taken down one way or another. Burn weakened but still alive sat down with her sister Blaze, the harmless one. For once in their life, they were on the same side, not only that Blister's awful, but in their hate of dragonbite vipers.

In an unprecedent declaration, Burn spared Blaze, she would restore her titles as princess of the SandWings, and she being overall harmless and not even willing to challenge Burn, would be welcomed back at the palace. For such gesture of good will, the DoD chose Burn as the new SandWing queen and she was crowned a hour later, offically, despite being the de facto queen since 4993 AS.

Blister's escape was unfortunate according to Burn, but she would hunt her down for what she did to the ends of the Earth, which in the first unofficial queens' summit, agreed to declare Blister an enemy of Pyrrhia, to be arrested or executed in all queendoms.

In her last act that day, Burn had declared the DoD, especially Sunny, as heroes of the SandWings and of all Pyrrhia, giving them all a medal and approving Sunny's Jade Academy project, despite overwhelming doubts of its viability.

While Sunny and Burn wouldn't meet for a year, due to Sunny's still recent memories of the events at the stronghold, Starflight's project would open the first way of communication the two had since the conference, and Sunny would finally muster courage to meet Burn again, this time in times of peace.

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murfpersonalblog · 1 day ago

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IWTV S2 Ep1 Musings - From Jim Crow to literal Crow

No one ever talks about the word the Romanian kid said to Claudia, and what it means. That little pissant had the nerve to walk up to Claudia, poke her on her effing face, and called her a "cioara."

Like, you know racism is a DEEPLY embedded problem in a country when even the KIDS are effing demons, totally unprompted. That mini-Nazi turd bubble called my daughter an ugly black N****r!

Felecan, Oliviu. "A Psycholinguistic Approach to Nicknaming (With Reference to Nicknames Given by Students to Teachers)." Names and Their Environment (2014): 65.

During the 1940s, the Romanians showed their entire arsehole by emulating their Aryan bestie Adolf Hitler (Romania was Germany's ally in WWII). But the dehumanization of Black people (and ofc the Roma) in Romania is rampant to this effing day.

This 2020 article describes racist activity on Facebook that seems mighty similar to what happened to Claudia in that effing Trial in 2x7--brute force being the only way to "discipline these people...savages" by LYNCHING crows.

This racist braindead fandom LOVES to run around saying It's Not About Race~!, esp. wrt to the Trial, decontextualizing Delainey's Vulture interview to dismiss any & all conversation about the racial dynamics of Claudia & Louis' treatment in predominately white communities that HATE them--esp. when Black people talk about it.

AMC had Delainey's character called N-word in a foreign language "Cioara!"--which AMC translated for everyone's benefit so we all knew she was being called a Crow--then they have Delainey POKED in the effing FACE by this white kid before she SHOVES him in the effing dirt. But y'all expect me to believe AMC never talked to this Black woman about race!? Y'all think she ain't never asked the writers what these all Romanian words even she was learning to speak meant!? Just cuz they didn't discuss race on set during Ep7 doesn't mean they NEVER talked about race, stop it! 🤦

AMC had Delainey's character praise the Paris coven BECAUSE they're predominately white but had a dark-skinned Asian Master--after they'd left racist AF Jim Crow America, after they'd lived all over Europe having Nazis mock them for being Black Ukranians, being called cioara by Romanians, and having Soviets throw their travel papers in the effing mud. But y'all expect me to believe AMC never talked to this Black woman about race!?

And AMC planted the seeds allllll the way back in 2x1, having that dirty white kid poke Claudia's face & call her the n-word, just like the Alderman's lawyer poked Louis in his effing face AND called him an "exceptional Negro" in 1x2, just like the coven hamstrung Claudia and burned her alive at the stake & called her a defective monster in 2x7.

This fandom has a chronic issue of being terminally incapable of putting 2 + 2 together, ESPECIALLY when it comes to identifying racial, historical & cultural nuances flying CLEAR over their heads.

I've been stressing this entire time that AMC deliberately made black!Claudia's experiences worse than book!film!Claudia's, specifically because of her race. Vampirism gave her NOTHING. Just her being dehumanized & demeaned & diminished & disrespected.

The messaging is ALL OVER the series--

--I can't even--

But this has nothing to do with race, y'all! AMC never talked to Delainey about race, y'all! Color consciousness doesn't exist, y'all! All lives matter, y'all!

#interview with the vampire #justice for claudia #racism #racial inequality #language #europe #iwtv tvc metas #read a dang history book #like wtf

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stacygetsit · 2 days ago

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Personally I'm more nervous about J than A at this point. I think A belongs in the past and is long forgotten by Luke. But J is very much present and consistently in Nicola's life. We get new content from them every day which only pushes that they're a couple more and more. The Jakolas seem very secure in their ship and I don't blame them. Just this week we got Nicola at J's premiere, a birthday message calling her "sweet one" and her replying with a red heart and them together at a birthday party. I also read the she followed a bunch of J's friends as well. Meanwhile all we got was a like and comment from Luke. 😞 And it doesn't matter that much that Nic didn't spend the holidays with J (maybe they couldn't for unknown reasons) because she's seen with him every other day. I don't know, I'm just really sad and disappointed right now. Both of them continue to give us relationship clues and I'm afraid I'm losing hope in Lukola. 😭

Anon, here what I have to say I'm not here to convince you of anything. If you're choosing to believe the narratives that is being pushed by Jakola without actual proof then that's up to you. Now this is what I will say again we didn't get proof that Nicola was at Ellis birthday. No actual proof so unless there is a hidden video/photo no one can actually claim that she was there. She is clearly not with him every day otherwise he wouldn't have had any time with his other friends that he has clearly been with all 2024. He in a decent amount of 2024 carousel photos without Nic. So that clearly shows he hangs out with other people without Nicola. Now she a grown woman who has a lot on her plate so she goes to some concerts. Again the William tell all was Jake movie Nicola is the one friend he has that has a name for herself why wouldn't he bring her. You do know his object is to obtain more spots in more films what better way then to be seen with someone who name is plastered everywhere. Nicola in the last couple weeks has maybe added two people on her instagram. So while yes I'm sure Nic has met some of Jake friends so what that doesn't mean they are in a romantic relationship. Sweet one I swear another creator on tumblr covered this one already but that's a normal term you can find the interesting definition of this sweet one at this link

https://www.tumblr.com/frantastical/772308652785909760/for-all-of-those-who-wanted-to-spiral-over-jakes?source=share

After you read the definition you have to remember that people words and meanings behind words change according to where that person lives. Again I have used the red heart for my friends as well no biggie. You can have real love for a friend. Love comes in different shades. Love doesn't always have to be romantic.

holidays are a huge. Let's recap Jake spent weeks with Dylan for Christmas and new Year. Nic spent we assume Christmas in Galway and clearly New year somewhere she got a tan in. They choose other people to ring in the new year with and that's normally a couples thing. Yet y'all still think JD a serious boyfriend. Then I have nothing left to say.

#not facts #my thoughts

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lambilegs · 3 days ago

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does it happen in a season? (part four: SUMMER - iii)

in her senior year of university, lee is ready for nothing more but yet another monotonous cycle of meeting her new roommate, adjusting, then living in separate spheres for the rest of the year. the last thing she's prepared for is: curiosity.

last chapter: (SUMMER ii)

soundtrack: seasons - wave to earth; video games - lana del rey; well I wonder - the smiths; good old-fashioned loverboy - queen; black is the colour - cara dillon; my love mine all mine - mitski; there is a light that never goes out - the smiths

(contains: 21K words, final part of the fic ;-;, college!au lee harker, set in the nineties, discussions of trauma, depictions of anxiety, ptsd and hoarding, familial strain and issues, internalized homophobia, graphic sexual content, reader receiving strap, lee receiving oral, switchy lee + reader, kinks include: dirty talk, spanking, breeding (lee thinking about it + wishing the strap could be a real body part of hers), slight humiliation, reader is called a "good girl," reader's body referred to with the following terms: "pussy," "cunt," "tits," "breasts," "clit")

important note about sexual content: the start of sexual content will be marked by ✩ (bolded green-coloured star) and the end of it will be marked by ✩ (bolded red-coloured star). minors, and anyone who doesn't desire to read nsfw content, please use these markers in order to skip nsfw content.

----

SUMMER. SOMETIME IN THE 1990s.

it takes lee about three weeks before she seats the two of you on her bed, ready to tell you everything. before the argument, she was certain that she would barely speak to you about her mother for what would most likely be several more months. and she never imagined that if she did confide in you, it’d be through the process of sharing everything at once. if it had been up to her, she’d have most likely continued just as she was before – dropping a random assortment of details and information from time to time, and hoping you one day can put it all together on your own. but, the hard words exchanged between you two had proven to her that that way of doing things wasn’t beneficial. at least not anymore.

besides, upon some self-reflection, she’s realized that figuring it out on your own isn’t exactly a fair thing to expect of you. especially considering that everytime she had shared something with you these past few months, there was always a tug of resistance she gave into, which would pull her back from divulging anything too revealing. which probably made it impossible for you to truly piece together any of this on your own.

and so, it seemed that details, and the act of unveiling them, were necessary steps lee had to take all on her own in order for you to truly understand this part of her. but, to play such an active role like that felt overbearing, even if it were for her own secrets.

but, ever since you had cried, and spoken of your hurt while lee had knelt by your bed, feeling like she was doing confession, she was gnawed with the knowledge of how little you really know. before, she had been content with ignoring the fact that her opening up was rare and far in between. but, hearing the hitches in your breath, seeing the way you crumbled – it forced to the forefront of her mind that she had known you for nearly a year, and you knew barely anything about her past. at least, when it came to the things that really mattered. and usually, that kind of stuff didn’t bother lee. there had been several people in her life who she knew longterm and still shared virtually nothing with. but, with you, it feels wrong. not because you two are partners, but because the only reason you two had reached this point was because of trust and sharing. and lee didn’t want to break that. she couldn’t. not after the removal of sharing had damaged one bond in her life already.

a bond that she tentatively brings up on a thursday afternoon. it feels like winter again, the stormy clouds of late july shadowing her bedroom with a grey light. but, your skin, brushing against hers, is warm, and she uses that to anchor herself when she says, “I’m ready to talk to you. about it all.”

lee has never been one for words – of that, she is certain. she spent the first decade of her life often lapsing into days or weeks of silence, and even as an adult, she finds herself preferring to avoid conversation as best as she can. lest for a few exceptions.

it makes it particularly difficult in moments like these. where her words carry a weight she can’t ignore, where they possess the sole responsibility to speak on something important. it provides her with a newfound pressure that’s a bit heavier than the already tense relationship she has with speaking. her words are all she has now, really. she knows her words will never fully convey what she’s felt all these years. but, at least it’s a good step.

“like you know, it’s always just been my mom and I. she was, um… cut off. when I was born. because she had me out of wedlock.” her stomach churns in guilt at exposing her mom’s secret like this. she’s just as private as lee is, if not even moreso.

“because of that, she became more religious, more worried over the idea of sinning. her family reached out years later, but she refused to see them and let them visit. because she had become less trusting. towards the world, everyone. she preferred it’d be just her and I. I think she was scared someone would hurt us again.” growing up, it was easy to take notice of how alone her mother was. barely any friends, no dates, no social outings. usually, the reasons lee had to be babysat were purely aligned to her mom’s working hours, rather than anything social or purely enjoyable. lee and work were really the only things her mom seemed to center her life on. as a kid, lee leaned into the attention and affection, her mom her only friend. but, the older she got, the more stifling it was to be the person whose existence her mother’s life revolved around. now that she’s moved away, that feeling has simmered, but as lee recounts these things to you, she can’t help but feel a sudden tightening of guilt in her stomach. there was so much her mom sacrificed for her, so much she had lost and kept pushed away. both for the sake of protecting the two of them and because it seemed like nothing else truly mattered all that much to her. it’s almost like she had been content to forgo her identity if it meant being a mother.

but, the older she got, the more aware lee became about the lack. she never got to be familiar with the feeling of several relatives in a warm home. she never had anyone to run to when she fought with her mom. there was never anyone there to reveal more about her mom. anything ruth harker decided to hide remained hidden, for she was all lee could depend on to know her own mother.

keeping her eyes pinned to the floor, she means to continue. but, her chest suddenly feels gripped with an invisible hand, the pressure surging in making her swallow a heavy breath, fingers tightening against her knees. her lips part and she shuts her eyes, trying to inhale and release steadying breaths to release the tension eating away at her.

in an instant, your hand, warm and grounding, is on her lower back, rubbing easy circles. “take your time.”

she sucks in a sharp breath, then forces the words out in a quiet slew. she just wants it over, to be done with and spat out. “when I was nine, something happened. I don’t know what, I…” she closes her eyes, frustration running through her body. she’s always hated unsolved mysteries, to not know the answer to something, for the questions to be too far from her grasp to truly conclude. but, of all the unknowns in the world, this is the one that haunts her the most. “all I know is that a car came to our house. and people had come before, yes, people who knew it was just us. but, this was the first time something…” she pauses to clear her throat, feeling it tighten as the dread of the memory curls and twists in her relentlessly. “something actually happened. I don’t know what, she’s never told me. and the entire night is hard for me to remember. but, it was bad enough that she called the police.” her lips purse tightly together, and her nails dig harder into her skin. it helps in a way, drawing her back to the present and out of the endless loop she’s spent too many years in, trying again and again to reach out for what happened that night. if she heard or saw anything.

“after that, my mom was different. she became less direct. more like… I don’t know. a shadow.” her voice cracks on the last word and she winces. “she became more lost, and it got worse the older I got. and she started hoarding.” she shifts, a feeling of disgust churning in her stomach at remembering the filth of her mother’s home when she had last visited. she knows it’s not her mom’s fault. she knows that better than anyone. but, she can’t help it. she hates what their home has become, she can barely look at it without feeling dread creep into her.

she can’t bear to look at you. it’s odd, because it’s out of her control, what’s happened to her home. but, it’s almost like she’s so tethered to her mom, and the space they raised each other in, that she can’t help but feel partially responsible. especially considering the fact that maybe if things had been different. maybe if she had heard something sooner, or had been more aware of her surroundings, what happened on january thirteenth wouldn’t have happened. maybe she could’ve saved her mother, her family, her home. broken as it was already, at least it wasn’t destitute before that day.

“she became more paranoid, too. she already didn’t really trust anyone, but what happened made it worse. she clung onto me. a lot. maybe she was scared something would happen again.” she pauses to gulp, the possibility hanging off her tongue filling her mind with a dark cloud, expanding and filling her mind with a dizzying panic. “the older I got, and the more I wanted to have some space, the worse she got. more hoarding, more worrying, more paranoia.” a pierce of guilt stabs through her, and she rushes to add, “I know it’s not her fault. but, between the hoarding, her worries and control, the religious stuff, it became too much. as soon as I graduated, I left." she can't even say with total certainty that her mom's faith is fully in tact anymore, a topic she often wonders about. if her mom, after all the things she's been through, truly rests her hope in god, or just stays with him out of comfort or fear for what will happen if she don't.

she sighs. she finished faster than she thought. but, it hasn’t eased the shame spreading through lee, aching and curling in all the wrong spots. she feels despicable, admitting to having left her mom after all that happened. and she is, isn’t she? she doesn’t even know what her mom went through, the horrors she dealt with that night. and still, she left her. still, she moved to an entirely different state even though she knew her mother would refuse to ever leave. because she was so selfish as to want to escape just for herself. even if it meant her mom was going to be left back, all alone, with no one to protect her anymore. and maybe it was wrong of her to seek protection in lee, she doesn’t know. but, still, lee was a daughter before she was anything else in the world. that meant something to her, meant something to the woman who raised her. she could’ve at least returned the protection her mother had bestowed upon her for years. and she did – she tried, all throughout her teenage years, to do so. working more shifts than any of her peers so that her mom wouldn’t have to undergo the struggle of heading to work. being the one to take care of her mother’s eating and sleeping habits. letting her mom hold her at night even when all she wanted was to be alone. she had tried.

but, what does it matter if she ran away, anyways? and if she’s most likely going to continue to stay away. it doesn’t change the fact that she’s now physically abandoning her mother. and sure, maybe her mom is the one who left first, in more ways than one. but, lee should’ve stayed to anchor her. she should have.

she’s tense, her body stiff, bracing itself for your contempt, your disapproval.

“why does she hoard?”

lee flinches at the sound of your voice. once the question gets absorbed in her mind, she clears her throat, trying to remain levelled. “I don’t know. my guesses are to get back to how things were before what happened, or to maybe have a feeling of control.” she knows her mother wouldn’t like being pitied, but she can’t help the feeling from worming its way through her, throbbing and potent. “she won’t tell me. she doesn’t tell me anything, really. about what happened that night, how it affected her.” her teeth clench so hard that a blast of pain stabs through her jaw. “I… I hate that she doesn’t. I think she wants to protect me, but… it’s just made things worse.”

the avoidance, the secrecy – it’s the reason why this wedge between them exists. yeah, other stuff, like her paranoia and the religion carved the path and buried the first bouts of guilt and shame, but ultimately, it was the lack of understanding that set it all into stone. lee never got to find out what happened, and so, she never knew what her mom needed or how to help her. and so, she was forced to reckon with the changes of her mother, with neither of them prepared or in grasp of the knowledge needed to understand them.

lee flinches when she feels you kiss her shoulder, and she hates herself for it, but she shifts away from you. “I don’t… I can’t.” she feels the same way as she did in the subway with you, stifled and mind faltering from all she’s saying. and you touching her is only making her feel more overwhelmed. her mind feels like it’s on overrun, crumbling under the racing thoughts.

“okay, okay.”

she keeps her distance on the bed, nails digging in so hard her thighs are starting to ache. anything to distract herself.

“lee, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that happened to you and your mom. it’s terrible that she went through that, and that it caused so much damage. lee, I…” you pause to suck in a sharp breath, and lee wishes she could read your mind to know if this has burdened you at all. “I’m so sorry.”

your tone is soft, and lee can imagine how you look right now – concerned, worried. it just adds to her discomfort. it makes her feel pitied, and right now, she isn’t the one who deserves that. her mother does. and you sympathizing with her just drags to her conscience that this situation is one worth sympathizing with. which, logically, she knows it is. she would also feel concerned if someone she cared for told such a story. but, to face another person’s sympathy head on, to deal with it outside of the rationality of just identifying it as a concerning, to have another person’s worried reaction be thrusted at her like this – it makes her stomach churn. she’d rather forget it all. but, hearing your gentle words, feeling your light touch, it just reminds her of how bad it all is. and that’s something she usually tries to ignore, for she can barely handle acknowledging it. both in general, and how bad it is for herself specifically. she doesn’t like thinking of herself as a victim of something, but when you talk to her like that, she feels that way – like something terrible happened to her. and that makes it harder to ignore the weight of it all.

“I…” she chokes on the word, tears beginning to spill out. fuck, this is the last thing she wanted. she lifts her hands to her face, covering her wet cheeks. she wishes the ground could just swallow her whole. the last thing she wanted was to deliver this in any way that wasn’t fast, to-the-point and quickly done with. she feels like a child again. just as lost, just as unsteady in grasping her emotions or stopping them from overflowing.

“you what?” and now, your voice is shaky too. but, lee can’t focus on that now. she can’t focus on anything.

“I wish things were different. I wish my mom and I were different.” her words tremble as she speaks, littered with small, weak sobs she can’t hold in. they sound so squeaky, so meek. lee didn’t want it to happen this way, she wanted to be in control during this.

but, she can’t stop crying. her palms are moist with the tears, her mouth salty and wet. her and her mom will never get better. and that’s what hurts the most. that no matter how many christmas trees lee puts up with her, no matter how often she calls, no matter how many times lee plays pretend, there’ll always exist this strain now. it’s binding, and it’ll always be like this. forever shifted from what they once had.

she wipes her wrist at her nose, sloppy and dripping into her mouth. she hates being in this state. it’s been hard enough crying in front of you the first two times, but this feels less quiet, less calm – the bubbling hiccups, the shaking of her body, the way her nose can’t stop running. it feels so much more messy, completely and utterly ripped out of her control and stabilization. she doesn’t like this feeling, doesn’t want to feel out of control. but, this no longer feels like a mere sting of hurt or sadness. this is a tight, choking sort of regret and devastation surging through her body. maybe this is why people say to not repress things. lee did, and now that it’s unravelled within her, she feels as though she’ll never be the same again with how much it’s eating at her from the inside out, ripping every bit of flesh and bone of her until she’s a crumbled mess.

if the suppression didn’t work in her favour, maybe the intentional isolating wouldn’t either. at least not this time, when things had reached this level.

just to at least try, lee mutters, her breaths squeezing and high, “please… I need…” she can’t even finish, just leaning in your direction.

you clutch onto her immediately, almost as though you needed this as badly as her – though, lee can’t guess if that’s true for the life of her. she’s been so caught up in her own thoughts she nearly forgot she wasn’t alone. she’s not sure if that’s selfish. but, maybe just tonight, she can let herself be a little selfish. she doesn’t think you’ll mind.

you two say nothing else for the remainder of the evening, remaining in that position until lee falls asleep, body sagged and depleted, with her face pressed into the safety of your neck.

maybe this is why her mom always held her. it’s a bit easier to pretend things are okay when all you can feel is the weight of someone else against you.

–

when you wake up alone in lee’s bed, you’re immediately shooting up, concern twisting in your stomach. you turn her alarm clock to you. it’s 6:33AM. she’s probably on one of her runs. that makes you feel a bit more relieved, though the knot in your stomach remains wrapped tightly. why would she go on a run after all that happened last night? couldn’t she ever give herself a break?

you flop back onto her bed, massaging your temple. lee had meekly asked you to spend the night, requesting that you two just lie in silence. in that moment, you would’ve quieted the entire world for her.

after she had fallen asleep, her face so soft and tear-streaked, you had wept quietly next to her, body aching with all she had told you. you still feel it, really. you had always known lee went through something, but never would’ve guessed this of all things. you went in knowing this much – lee has a controlling mom who is religious and not doing well, lee hates going back home, lee’s mom was cut off. all those things had been delivered by lee rather straightforwardly, so you knew whatever she had to be keeping from you regarding her mother was something a bit different from those things, a bit harder to swallow. part of you had been anticipating that the secret in question would encapsulate the usual trajectory most people faced – a relationship that was strained due to differences that revealed themselves in adulthood, and the harsh fights ignited by that, the wounds that still can’t be healed. but, a night with the police called, a mother becoming a stranger, lee having to take care of that mother for years. you hadn’t expected those things. and it had shaken you more than you expected.

you had never seen her so utterly despaired, so entirely hopeless and devastated. the way her body moved as she sobbed looked so unnatural to lee – lee, who is always so poised and stiff and straight. lee, your girlfriend who is always steady and prepared for anything, looked like her entire world was shattered last night. it made you feel so stupid, so confused, because you didn’t know how to handle a version of lee this distraught, this twisted and wracked by her emotions.

how she kept her shit together for this long, you don’t even know. a night she can’t remember the contents of, a mother who may have been harmed in ways she isn’t even certain of, a relationship that became filled with estrangement and unexplainable behaviours. it’s something almost out of fiction. most people you know are aware of exactly why and how their family’s dynamics are fucked up. but, lee doesn’t even know what the fuck happened to her family. she’s been dragged and entrapped in a black hole of lost memories and secrets for over a decade now. you couldn’t handle such a thing. it’d haunt you every fucking day.

and maybe it does with lee.

you shakily tuck the blanket up to your chest, trying to calm yourself down. you need to keep your shit together. you can’t let her trauma fuck you up so much that she spends the morning comforting you when she’s the one who needs it. especially after she’s spent enough years taking care of someone else.

but, that someone else is her mother. of course lee took care of her.

precious lee, everlastingly good lee.

and speaking of her mother, the revelation of what’s happened has left you with just as many questions as lee. how does her mother act now? what does the haze lee spoke of entail? how often does she seem grounded and real, and how often is she a half-present stranger to lee? the questions do nothing to quell your sense of unease and shock at all that lee has told you. you’ve never met someone whose parent became a shell of themself, whose ongoings of their own home are so unknown they don’t even know what aroused such a change. the gaps and holes of the situation gnaw at you, with each question bringing a wave of secondhand anxiety, discomfort and curiosity. it makes your stomach turn – what happened to lee’s mom to cause all of this?

the possibilities make you nauseated with the range of brutality your mind skims along. and you’re just a stranger to lee’s mom. how must lee feel?

when the front door creaks open a half hour lately, you yank the blanket off, rushing to meet lee in the kitchen.

she’s in a t-shirt and jogging pants, panting lightly. when she spots you, she quietly takes off her headphones and sets her walkman on the counter. “hey.”

“hi.” you want to hold her so bad, protect her from everything bad in the world. but, you know better. lee doesn’t need protection, she’s more than capable. but, still, if there was a way to guarantee she never had to feel another ounce of pain, you’d gladly make any sacrifice necessary for it.

you resist touching her, the memory of how she recoiled last night still fresh. it had stung, but you reminded yourself it was only a testimony to the great pain she was in. it wasn’t fair to dictate her lack of desire for touch as being anything but.

but, not touching means you two stand there awkwardly for a few moments, simply staring.

lee breaks it first, eyes darting to the ground and remaining there. “I just needed to clear my head. sorry I didn’t wake you before leaving.”

“no, no, it’s okay!” you rush to reassure, wincing at how your voice flicks to a higher pitch. “seriously, it’s okay, I know you probably needed that.”

“you don’t need to make leniencies for me just because of last night. it’s okay if you’re upset.”

you frown. “I’m not, lee. I’m not excusing it just because of last night, I understand it because of last night. that’s not cutting you slack, it’s just acknowledging you went through something hard.”

her jaw clenches. “but, I don’t want things to be different now.”

“they’re not,” you say with a shake of your hand. it feels like a lie, considering this morning definitely feels different to any other you two have shared – more tender, more sensitive to how you react or behave. but, you don’t expect it’ll remain like this forever, nor that any permanent, strong changes will happen. so, things really won’t be different. . and even if you do make a few adjustments to try to avoid reminding her of her trauma, it’s not such a big difference, is it? it’s understandable, you don’t want to yank her back into such a dark place. “I just mean that, you know, you had a rough night, and because of that, things may not go as smoothly this morning as they usually do. but, I get it, you’re drained and it’s understandable it’d cause, you know, some changes to our routine today.”

lee breathes in a deep breath, her fingers rolled into tight fists. “I don’t want you to expect changes, though. I don’t want you to just let things slide because you pity me.”

“I don’t pity you, lee.” your voice nearly cracks, beginning to weaken under the lack of sleep and the sense of helplessness beginning to creep in you. “I just feel for you, and I’m sorry for all that happened. and I know bringing it all up last night must’ve been a lot, so I know things may be a bit different today because of how draining it was, and–”

“you don’t need to do all that.” her voice is firm, and still, she doesn’t look at you.

a sharp scoff flies from your lips. you regret it immediately, knowing she doesn’t deserve your anger right now. but, before this gets worse, you say, “fine, okay,” then turn, heading into the bathroom.

when you’re brushing your teeth, on the brink of tears, a knock comes to the door.

“it’s occupied,” you say, words muffled from the froth in your mouth. for once, you don’t want to talk to her.

lee sighs on the other end. “I know. can I come in?”

“later, lee.”

“okay.” the word sounds forced, hardened by an intentional push. you can tell she wants to stay.

after spending twenty minutes sitting on the toilet, trying to gather up and straighten your emotions into something more orderly than an overtired, blubbering mess, you head into the living room.

lee is standing by the tree, carefully re-arranging one of the ornaments. when it drops to the table’s surface, she bites her lip, tenderly cradling it up and hooking it back on. the sight only makes you feel even more sensitive to tears.

you warily call out, “hey.”

lee’s head whips to you, and immediately, she paces over. when she reaches you, her arms lift before quickly flinching back into their resting position at her sides. you gulp hard at the motion – to see her being the one hesitating to touch feels wrong.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, fingers stretching at her thighs. “that wasn’t right.”

“no, it wasn’t.”

the corner of her lip twitches and she nods slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“I just…” you gulp, feeling your eyes beginning to burn. since morning time, your emotions have already felt extra sensitive and prickly from lack of sleep and the weight of last night’s conversation. and that makes it all too easy for lee’s earlier words to have pierced through you, leaving a burn of hurt. maybe you had no right to have required anything of her this morning – comfort, softness, talking. after all, it’s her who had shared something of note last night, not you. but, you had at least hoped that she’d let you in this morning, and allow you to support her and give her some love. “that hurt.” your voice falters, and you draw in a shaky breath to level it. “I just wanted to be there for you, lee. and help you, and make you feel better after last night. but, you made it sound like it’s terrible to do that.”

“it’s not,” she softly interjects, shaking her head. “it’s not. I just – I got scared that what happened last night, and what I told you, would make things different. and that you’d change how you treat me because of it. the idea of favours, it makes me uncomfortable.”

you nearly cringe at the words. the knowledge that your care made her feel uncomfortable is borderline humiliating. “uncomfortable because how I was treating you was, I don’t know, too much?”

“no.” she swallows, her throat bobbing. “it just made me feel like you now see me as, I don’t know, different, or pitiful.”

“but, I’ve given you this kind of treatment before. you know, like, trying to understand things may be different the day after something intense.”

“I know. but, with this situation, I…” her voice lowers, eyebrows scrunching in what feels awfully close to shame. “I already feel weak regarding it. not remembering anything, not being able to figure it out. and I just, I don’t want you to see me like how I see myself.” her mouth twists in something sorrowful, her eyes lowering.

“but, I don’t, though.” your voice breaks, and you immediately clamp your mouth shut. you don’t want to make this about yourself or your hurt.

but, lee catches it immediately, her eyes widening and raising to you. her mouth flutters open and shut, and she takes a tentative step forward, fingertips ghosting along your wrist. “I know.”

“I see you as strong, honestly. you’ve been dealing with so much, and you hold yourself together despite it all.”

“I don’t hold it together well. I–”

“lee, look at yourself!” you nearly cry out, the power of the shock at what she had been through pushing you forward to try to shake her into realizing what’s crystal clear to you. “you built an entire life, independently, for yourself. despite having an entire night you don’t remember, one that made things so different for you and your mom. and despite all that happened, you still care for her, without falter or hesitation. you’re a great person, a great daughter, despite it all.”

her fingers wrap firmly around your wrist. “I don’t – you don’t need to tell me all of this.”

“I don’t need to do anything, you’re right. I want to, though, because it’s the truth.”

she shakes her head slowly. “I’m just doing what I need to do.”

you draw your hand from her grip, cupping her face, pressing in close. “you’re doing things that take a lot of strength, and a lot of consideration for your mom.” you lean your head against hers. “don’t diminish it.”

“I’m not,” she weakly protests, her voice low. “it’s just not a big deal.”

“it is, lee.”

she shakily sighs, as though she can’t handle the amount of praise you’re laying onto her. “I just – I only wanted to apologize, okay? for me, at least in this situation, I usually avoid talking about it and want things to immediately go back to exactly how they were before. but, I can’t ask that of you. for you, it’ll be different. I know that.”

her understanding words have your shoulders easing in relief, for to think of moving on without acknowledging all that occurred last night feels impossible. “yeah, it’s just – it was a lot. not in a bad way, of course,” you speedily add, eyes widening to search hers for any sign of hurt that could’ve resulted from your words. “I just mean, I think I would’ve struggled to have just let it go this morning.”

“and I shouldn’t have expected you to.”

you hum quietly. “thanks.” when she says nothing, dark orbs resting on you, carefully studying, you gulp, something else still gnawing at your mind. “lee?”

“hm?”

you start with, “nothing between us will change. and I don’t see you as pitiful, okay?”

she eyes you with furrowed eyebrows, her stare wary. “okay.”

“but, you know, you’re allowed to feel bad for yourself, babe. sympathetic with yourself, your past self, and all they’ve both been through. it’s okay for other people to feel bad for you, too. and for them to comfort you. it doesn’t mean they think you’re pitiful. it just means they care about and love you and are just sad you dealt with something so hard.”

her lips pinch together, chest heaving with a heavy breath. “I know, but people feeling bad for me, or comforting me – it makes me feel small, especially considering how… I can barely manage the situation as is.” she rubs a hand on her face, and your chest snaps at the sight of her clear distress. lee in general doesn’t like unanswered questions – even with movies, whenever you guys saw one with an ambiguous ending, she would spend hours afterwards cracking the code of it. if something as inconsequential as that can gnaw at her mind, what would it feel like for her to face a mystery embedded within her own life, centering on someone she loves? probably terrifying, you suspect. “and I just don’t like to think about what happened with my mom. but, being comforted pushes me to think about it and everything that happened. that’s why I’d rather things go back to normal after I talk about it. not only because the alternative makes me feel pitied. but, because it also forces me to think about what happened.”

“but, does not thinking about it really help at all?”

“I…” she pauses, the firmness of her jaw seeming to deflate as she quietly ponders on your question. “I don’t know. I used to think about it more, but now, I just avoid it. it won’t go anywhere and it’s too much.”

at the vulnerable opening, you tread across the threshold carefully, not wanting to push her too fast. “but, is not acknowledging it, and how it’s affected you, really helping?”

“I–I don’t know.”

she looks so fragile, her face tense and avoidant, ducked down and shying away from your gaze. you can tell the possibility of thinking on it more, lingering on the horrors of it, is overwhelming for her, so you try to quiet your tone. “I – just think on it, okay? I’ll be here for whatever you decide.”

her throat rolls under the skin as she gulps. “okay.”

“I–” god, you want to say it so fucking bad. but, not now. not like this, when she’s clearly already stressed.

“you what?”

“I’m here for you, okay?” you hesitate, then move forward to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “I don’t pity you, or see you as weak. but, I feel bad for what happened, lee, because it is hard what you guys went through. and I know me feeling bad for you makes you feel like I’m pitying you, or seeing you differently. but, I don’t. I’m just sad you went through this. and I just want to support you.” another kiss. “if you’ll let me, I just want to care for you.”

a small noise comes from the back of lee’s throat. you can’t see her, your cheek pressed to hers, so you wait patiently to hear her answer.

when she sags against you, arms tightly clutching on, you have it.

–

lee jerks in surprise when two arms wrap around her from behind. her head flies back, body relaxing a bit when she sees your crinkled, happy eyes, mouth twisted in amusement.

“‘hi’ works, too,” she mutters, very much not pulling away. her body is still tense, but after hours apart, she craves this.

“yes, but where’s the element of surprise in that?”

“not every greeting requires that, you know,” she deadpans, a twinge of disappointment flicking in her when you let go, standing by her side.

“well, I’m just happy to see you,” you whine, bottom lip jutting out. “but, I guess if that’s how you feel…” you turn away, releasing an exaggerated, whooshing breath.

lee’s mouth tingles as she bites back a smile. she wryly glances at you, hoping you’re not actually hurt beneath all the jokes. after a moment of scanning you, she shifts closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you so that your hip is flushed to hers.

“oh, so, now you want to hold me.”

she snorts. “I always do.”

“sure,” you drawl, rolling your eyes.

“I do. do I need to prove that to you?”

“here?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows. “didn’t know public play was your thing, harker.”

when lee spots a couple flashing you two alarmed looks, she internally winces. “baby, we’re in public.”

“yeah, I know, that’s what public play is, loser.”

she tightens her grip on your hip, leaning into your ear to murmur, “no, I mean we’re in public, so please, stop talking about the… public play.”

you bite your lip, following her nervous glances to the couple near you two. “did they hear us?”

“yes, they did.”

“oh.” you laugh, nuzzling your face against her shoulder. “my bad.”

she sighs, eyes darting to the nearby couple again. “just order, then let’s go.”

you slip from her grasp, peering into the plane of glass, eagerly taking in the colourful stamps on the other side. “what flavour will you get?”

she hums thoughtfully, looking at all the special flavours set for summer. while they look nice, she isn’t really up for trying anything new. “just vanilla.”

you cock your head at her with what can only be described as a pleading look. “c’mon, be more adventurous than that.”

her eyes carefully rove along the small, yellow shop, ensuring no one is in earshot before muttering against your ear, “this is the last vanilla thing I have since dating you, so let me keep it.”

you nod along to her words, and after a few moments, you start, your head whipping to her. “wait, what the fuck?” your face crumbles into a loud round of laughter, and a warm sense of pride flitters through her stomach. “wow, you’re funny!”

lee rolls her eyes, sniggering. “don’t sound so surprised.” despite her outward indifference, the compliments do stroke her ego a bit. she’s never seen herself as being funny, or charming, and she’s certain no one else has either. but, you have a way of so easily flashing her smiles and tossing her compliments that she can’t help but feel that at least you see her in that way. and though she’d never admit it, she’s glad to know you do.

after the ice cream is secured, you two sit on the park bench, one of your legs laying languidly upon hers. lee likes it, this easy intimacy, and she lets her fingers rub along your shin as she takes observations. there’s a woman playing frisbee with her dog, a group of students sitting on a picnic blanket, some children playing, well, a frankly poor attempt of baseball (and lee isn’t even a fan of baseball), and several other such groupings. lee wonders what any of them would think upon seeing you or her. would they see two friends, or a couple?

as lee hears the slippery noises of you happily eating your ice cream, she can’t help but feel she’d like them to think the second. you’re hers, and ever since your discussion at the pride march, she’s wanted to try to be more intentional.

she lowers her head, kissing your knee softly. when she raises up to continue eating her ice cream, the side of her head practically burns from your unfaltering gaze.

glancing at you tentatively, she asks, “what?”

“what was the kiss for?”

she shrugs, brushing her thumb over the spot, still slick from her saliva. “no reason.”

“mm, no reason my ass.”

she continues eating her ice cream, her body afloat in what’s finally a sense of peace. she’s been waiting for it, hoping for it. ever since she confided in you about her childhood, she can tell that you’ve grown a bit more hesitant, or at least delicate, with her. you’ve been lavishing touches on her more frequently, leaving the room when she talks to her mom, or on some occasions, staying and then hugging her silently right after. you now pause for longer beats before asking her about her childhood. she knows you’re not doing it to make her feel uncomfortable – if anything, it’s just evidence of how jilted you were from the recollection she delivered to you. and she can’t blame you for that – she lived through it, and even she can barely stomach it on most days. and knowing you, you’re probably just trying to avoid tipping her into another breakdown. which she’d like to avoid too, but not because of an evident barrier within every moment that vaguely connects to her mother or childhood.

she spoke to you about it two days ago, focused on softening her tone, a practice she rarely ever engaged in. but, after what happened last time, she wanted to be careful. at the end of it, you promised to try to not be so awkward about things. lee hadn’t told you then, but part of her also wanted the hesitancy to diminish because she thought about what you said to her last week. a lot. and she decided that she does want to try thinking about the past, talking about it, letting herself feel for it, just as you said. you were right. the silence with her mom is what shattered what they had – what if her own silence on this matter one day breaks her too?

at least now, things seem more normal. she feels less frightened about any sort of permanent change, for your questions are now laced with less pauses and wary gazes. you still seem a bit more tender than usual, but lee’s accepted that maybe that’s just a natural part of confiding in someone who feels this way about her. maybe part of acknowledging how… hard the situation was (she still winces to think of it that way) is allowing you to give her proportionate care for it. at least, well, what feels “proportionate” for you. she still struggles to think of herself as needing that much.

she watches you as you smile up at the tree shadowing you two, which is lime under the golden sunlight peeking through. “do you… do you like this area?”

the location of your university has left you no choice but to live in this kind of area, and lee itches to know what you would choose if it were up to you. both out of curiosity’s sake, and to, secretly, use your answer to adjust her envisionment of the future.

“I do.” you release a sigh, eyes scanning your surroundings. “it has nice parks, the subway makes it easy to reach deeper parts of this city, but, our place’s neighbourhood is still quiet enough to be more… serene.”

she hums, nodding. she had presumed as much, based on the way your eyes lingered on the flowers filling the lawns of neighbourhood homes, and how you sometimes stuck your head out the window of her room to look at the kids playing on the streets.

you love her window. it makes her a bit regrettable – she hadn’t cared much about the window apart from it making her bedroom feel a bit less closed in and a bit more breathable. but, apart from that, she had only chosen that room for herself because it was the smaller one and would force her to set a desk out in the open. which she didn’t like, but she had done it so things could at least be a bit easier for you. she didn’t want to be a selfish roommate.

“you?”

the answer is immediate, months of reflection bringing her right to it. “I could live somewhere more isolated.”

“oh?”

she eyes you hesitantly, hoping her answer doesn’t dissuade you in any kind of form. “like, a cottage. in a forest.”

your eyes bulge out. “damn, that sounds… isolated, indeed.”

she fidgets, feeling slightly self-conscious. “in a bad way?”

“no, no, I mean, it makes sense, considering you like your solitude. but, you’d be comfortable being that isolated?”

I wouldn’t be alone. her mouth twists at the thought, stomach tightening over the fact that your phrasing makes it sound like you expect her to be there alone. do you not envision a future with her? she tries to shake off the thought, focusing on what you asked.

but, the truth is, yes, she would be that comfortable. more than. “probably. I don’t mind being physically alone. it makes me feel at ease.”

“but, you wouldn’t be nervous? scared?”

“by the time I could afford anything like that, I will have completed my training.” she shrugs, stroking your knee. “so, I could defend myself.”

“plus, you’d…” when you pause, lee’s hand stills, awaiting your next words. “you’d, I don’t know, maybe have me?”

lee nearly exhales a deep breath of relief, just barely refraining. it’s been prickling at her mind – the possibility that you may not want to share a home with her. it’s a foreign thing for her to worry over, and ironic, in all honesty. she’s spent most of her life anticipating the day she gets to be alone, on her own, with no one but herself to account for. and now, right when she’s on the precipice of having that, she finds herself wanting nothing more than to stay here with you. maybe it had always been less about wanting to be by herself, but wanting to be somewhere where she’s understood, and having felt convinced for most of her life that she was the only one who could give herself that fully.

“yeah,” she mumbles, unable to resist the small smile that tilts her lips up. something had been gnawing at her mind for two days now, but the topic of conversation, as well as your confession, pushes her on now to voice it. “listen… the landlord told me two days ago we have three weeks to decide if we want to up the lease. I want to. but, if you don’t, you can tell me. it’s okay.” direct, straight-to-the-point, and done with.

when you say nothing, lee forces her eyes to you. your lips are parted, and you resemble an owl with how you stare at her.

“what?” she quietly prods.

“well, I just– you don’t want to leave here after grad? maybe explore somewhere else.”

lee blinks at you. she had never been one particularly excited at the idea of exploring new places, often too comfortable in her surroundings to stray. and graduation, finding a job, having a partner – those are enough changes as is. she hadn’t been eager to seek out more. “no, not really. I’m not in a rush to leave. I wouldn’t mind staying till I need to go to virginia.” she shifts slightly, suddenly wishing you two had discussed this before now. “I– do you want to stay?”

“I do.”

“do you want to stay with me?” it’s the question that really matters.

your face becomes a beam of light when you smile, and lee turns away, her breath hitching when you say, “do you even need to ask?”

lee breathes in a shuddering breath, taken aback by just how… happy your words make her. she wasn’t even half-ready to let go of this yet – the home you two have built the past year. it’s been an entire year, but she feels like she’s only had the briefest taste of it. she’d like to indulge in at least a bit more before whatever comes next – whether it be the two of you moving somewhere else together, moving to virginia together or even being apart during her time at the academy. it’d be hard, sure, but she knows the two of you can handle it.

when the feeling of overwhelming lightness settles down, she releases a puff of air. “well, of course, I need to. can’t up it without asking you.”

“yeah, you’d be a tad creepy for doing that, huh?”

she snickers. “just a tad.”

when the two of you wander through the farmer’s market taking place on the outskirts of the park, you loop your arm through hers. she tenses automatically from the public display of affection before easing up. even though she wants to be more open, she still can’t help but immediately tighten in tension when you do these things. she supposes it’s just a matter of adjusting.

“so, three days.” you pout, leaning on her shoulder.

lee gives you a small nod. three days until she goes back home. it’s not an entirely welcome thought, considering how uncomfortable it makes her to think of how long the two of you will be apart. but, part of her has been wanting to see her mom since she confided in you. something about speaking so unabashedly of their bond, and all her mom did for her, has her longing to see her again. though, she’s certain that in a week, she’ll be desperate to leave the house, for upon each visit, the hoarding gets more stifling, more treacherous.

“are you… nervous?”

she shrugs. “a bit. just about how much worse things have gotten regarding her behaviour, the house…” it’s an anxiety she’s grown accustomed to, one that visits and makes a home in her body, feet tossed up and all, everytime she’s anticipating a visit to her mom’s. “I can manage.”

you hum in thought and plant a kiss to her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“I just – I wish I knew how to grapple with the kind of things she says. I usually just stay quiet.”

after pausing for a moment, nothing surrounding you two but the soft cacophony of the crowd’s conversations and purchases, you quietly say, “maybe all you can do is tell her that when she’s ready, she can talk to you, or, you know, use your help to get help. but, other than that, just try to be there.”

“I’ve always been there.” sometimes, lee hates that she’s been. since childhood, her mother forced her into a box, with just them, content to keep herself and lee hidden from the rest of the world’s company. the wariness of the world, the protection of lee – it never truly waned. as lee got older, it only fused with other things – like her mom’s inability to do certain things around the house, and her increased paranoia of lee leaving and the resulting hesitation for whenever lee had to go to work or even school.

her responsibility made her both grow up too fast and too little. she had acquired the necessary skills of survival, like cooking and managing money, but little of what was needed for actually living. her mother had been absent for many of lee’s most formative experiences – her first love, first heartache, first friendships. and while some of those things had been hidden away for privacy’s sake or out of fear of her mother’s disapproval, there was always a gnawing voice at the back of her mind reminding her that her mother wouldn’t be fully present even if lee did reach out. she would maybe give lee some comfort and advice, but it would only be a matter of time before she said something else that’d unnerve lee. so, lee avoided it.

and as a result, lee had to learn a lot, maybe too much, on her own once she slowly came to realize just how stilted she was emotionally. it came from careful observation, and an embarrassing amount of self-help books.

though, she can’t help it. part of her still stings with bitterness at how much she had to train herself for because her mother wasn’t there to help her. at least not as much as lee wished for her to be.

“I know,” you softly sigh, rubbing her back. “it’s okay to sometimes want a break, you know? you don’t have to put it all on yourself.”

“she doesn’t have anyone else.” lee feels an odd kick of protectiveness. it’s strange – she doesn’t enjoy visiting most of the time, but she’d never give it up. not when her mom is so alone. in a way, it’s a duty she’s caged into, but she can’t imagine escaping it even if she had the key. both out of obligation and due to the fact that when she spends enough time away, she usually winds up craving the comfort of her mother, anyways. visiting is a way to replenish that in a sense, as well as check in and help. “besides, I owe her this. I already keep so much distance as is.”

“do you think that’ll… change anytime soon? like, her maybe living with you?”

“no.” lee doesn’t mean to sound harsh, but the question is one she’s thought of before, while the answer is engraved in her mind. “I spent too long looking after her, and being scared, and I can’t– I, yeah.”

you squeeze her forearm gently, and lee peers at you, shame coursing through her. will you look down at her for being such a bad daughter?

you’re watching her with eyebrows drawn in, mouth pinched together. she anxiously wonders if it’s disappointment until you squeeze her arm again and say, “I understand. you already spent so many years looking after her, making sacrifices, feeling uncomfortable. you’re not wrong to not want that again. your visits are more than enough.”

she looks down. “thanks.” she certainly doesn’t feel like her visits are enough, but it’s really all she can manage. and it helps, somewhat, to hear you all acknowledge all she’s done. it eases the guilt somewhat, at least in this moment.

“and if you feel anxious there, or want to rant, call me, okay?”

“like a hotline?” she mutters, her lips tickling with the urge to smile. despite the joking words, she feels more than touched by your kindness. it’s nice – that you know about her mom now. at least the explanation is done with, so she can talk about these things without tiptoeing the line between what you know and what else she can reveal.

“oh, yeah,” you snicker. “if you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll get one of those 1-900 ones.”

lee casts you a sidelong glance, curiosity bubbling within her. in all honesty, she’s glad for the chance to discuss something else, feeling worn out from the talk of her impending visit. “did you ever call one of those?”

“yeah,” you giggle, leaning into her conspiratorially. “at, like, fifteen, I think, some of my friends and I brought a bunch of quarters so we could get at least five minutes on the phone with the girl on the other end. honestly, it’s probably what prompted my sexual awakening.” you shoot her a mischievous grin, and lee feels her neck burning. “did you?”

“no.” religious shame, innate discomfort with intimacy and a sheltered upbringing didn’t exactly make for a good combination to be sexually rebellious as a teenager. “I heard people talk about it, though.”

“eh, wasn’t really worth the anticipation. I mean, back then, it was – a woman’s ankle would’ve probably had me frothing at the mouth. but, now?” you shrug, idly brushing your fingers through a bouquet of flowers being sold at one stall. “the real thing is better.”

lee feels her face warming up more, your low tone making it evident what you mean. she can’t help but take a bit of pride in your words – logically, she knows it’s not that much of an accomplishment, but considering how much practice she committed to talking explicitly in her freshman year, it feels like one.

“once,” you continue, cheeks lifting as you laugh, shining with a thin sheen of sweat, “a guy told me I had the voice of the speaker on 1-900-SPANK-ME.”

her mouth clamps together, feeling a whirring mix of surprise and embarrassment on your behalf. “that’s… unexpected.”

“yeah, I know! I think he liked me or something, but like, a mixtape would’ve sufficed.”

“yeah. do you like mixtapes?” she asks, hoping to sound discreet.

“yeah, it’s like what I said – homemade stuff is always so thoughtful. I would’ve loved one back then. plus, romance-wise, it’s better than being compared to some girl he heard who said, ‘I want you on top of me so bad.’”

✩

the way you imitate the caller, raising your voice and making it sound more seductive, has lee shifting her shoulders, suddenly keenly aware of just how effortlessly you slid into that role.

“um, well, what did the person say when you called that one time?”

you seem to hesitate for a second, casting her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. whatever you seem to find on her face, though, seems to earn you a boost of confidence, for you then hover your mouth near her ear, quietly answering with a giggle. “oh, you know, something along the lines of, ‘oh, welcome to 1-900-whatever-whatever, where girls with the wettest, juiciest pussies are just aching to talk to you.’”

lee gulps, her abdomen beginning to sizzle with something warm at hearing you say something so filthy. the few times you had uttered such words during sex made her feel swept from under her feet, light-headed and flung somewhere else mentally. there was something about how your voice got huskier in its teasing tone, or higher in shy humiliation, that made her feel totally broken in any reservations, wanting nothing more to drink in all the telltale signs of how you’re feeling and figure it all out like her own special puzzle.

“I see,” she says through gritted teeth, hoping you don’t notice any signs of her sudden arousal.

when your teeth flash at her, her hope cracks a bit, but it feels nice.

you have her so worked up that that night, you two finally try lee’s toy. lying on your sides, face to face, she nearly comes undone at the sight of your mouth falling open, eyes screwed shut, as she spreads you open with her cock. you ask her to let it rest inside you for a few minutes, and for that time, lee rubs soothingly on your clit, kissing you languidly and murmuring how you’re taking her so well. words that made her feel so embarrassed the first time she uttered them, but now, slip from her mouth without an ounce of hesitation. for doing so is only made easier by the way you gasp at the words, your hips twitching. as lee plays with different parts of your body, wanting to spend the night worshipping it as though every inch is a sacred artefact, she wishes she could feel how your pussy wraps around her. how it’s tightening when she gently pinches your nipples or sinks her teeth into your collarbone.

when you adjust, lee has you on your back minutes later, burying her face in your neck as she slowly thrusts in and out. she’s sucking the sweat off your skin, lapping at the tangy taste of it, feeling close to addiction with the way you wrap your legs around her, clawing at her back.

the sting of it has her panting, “you like that, don’t you?”

you tug on her hair, raising her to a messy kiss. “god, I love it.”

she thrusts harder into you, one thumb flicking over your budded clit, her mouth relentless on your neck. with your hands on her back, your hair plastered to your forehead, you come just like that, body arching against her, chests rubbing together. lee wishes so bad she could feel the way your pussy flutters around her cock, how you clench so hard and latch onto her.

the second time you get back on it that night, you’re riding her. every bounce you take on the strap has the harness pressing against lee’s clit, and she bites her lip to hold back her whimpers. there’s something undeniably attractive about you on top of her like this, tits bouncing, nipples hard, your entire body shaking. you’re struggling so much to keep going, and lee can’t help but wring pleasure out of that, leaning back on her headboard and watching you as you grasp at her stomach with needy hands.

when it gets too hard, you curl your fingers around her neck, panting out, “please, baby, please – ah.”

your words break into a long whine when lee wraps her arms around your torso, holding you flush to her body as she jerks her cock into you, her hips furiously jutting up. the sound of skin smacking rings through lee’s room, and it makes her hole clench in desire.

“couldn’t do it on your own, huh?” she mutters against your ear, her breath hot and moist as she laps at the shell of it. “you just need someone to do all the work for you.”

“no, no, I can do it, I–” your stubborn whines break into a long moan when lee’s hand comes down on your ass, slapping it hard. she relishes in how your skin gets warm to the touch from it, murmuring against your cool, wet skin, “not so mouthy now.”

that only makes your hips jerk harder, and the unexpected motion of it has lee crying out, her eyes tensing shut for a second.

“oh?” you mutter, pressing your hips back down again, smiling when lee shivers, her hips bucking up. “does that feel good, baby?”

lee’s breath hitches as the pressure of the dildo’s base again pushes against her clit, sending streams of pleasure through her center. she grits her teeth, rasping out, “yeah.”

“poor baby,” you coo, ducking down to process sloppy kisses down her cheek. “feels good to split me open? c’mon, move harder, for both of us.”

“ah, okay,” she brokenly moans, bracing her feet down on the mattress and using the leverage to thrust her hips up.

you keen at the deeper thrusts, and jesus, lee wishes she could feel the way the silicone tip rubs against your g-spot, prodding and pushing the spongy texture of it. how she’d love to just feel your hot, drenched walls clamped up on her, squeezing and gripping, and begging for her to release inside you.

“fuck, feels so nice,” you whine, wrapping your arms around her neck, combing your fingers through her hair. “you’re doing so good.”

the praise has lee burning with pride. it eggs her on, pushing her to arch her hips up more. she grabs your breasts with her hands, pushing her face into them, lips moving without thought. she laps her tongue around the curve of them, nose fetching deep breaths of your scent.

your grasp on her hair tightens. “such a good girl. fuck, please, my nipples, baby.”

your voice feels like seduction personified, low and heady and making lee’s head spin with the way you’re guiding her. you use your hands to keep her arms locked in around your waist, almost as though you’re silently demanding her to help you. and lee is seized by the switch in dynamics whole-heartedly, the sight of you being pleasured and staying in control making her throb with want. there’s something almost relieving about being the one without the reigns. she’s so accustomed to having her fingers sunk deep into every situation regarding herself, wanting to weave and structure it according to the rules. but, giving herself over to you like this means that for once, her control, her decisions – it’s all tossed out the window. usually, she hates that, but with you, someone she trusts. it feels good, it feels like she can commit herself to letting go for once.

and so, lee obeys without a second thought, her mouth wrapping around your perked nipple and sucking it into her mouth, the stiff texture of it against her tongue making her groan. her fingers work diligently on the other one, flicking her thumb over it, then lightly rolling.

your hips buck harder through it, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. lee takes the opportunity immediately, lifting her head up to draw your tongue into her mouth, eyes closing as she sucks and licks at the soft, pink muscle.

“mm,” you whine against her sloppy kisses, “you’re such a good girl. filling me up like this.”

lee hisses, the praise driving her to push into you even harder.

and you sit there, on her cock, taking it so well. just remaining wrapped up in her arms, tightly clutching on, as it rams into you over and over again. lee sinks her teeth into your shoulder, the wet squelches ringing through the room making her squeeze down on nothing. with the mix of lube, spit and juices lathered on your folds, you sound like a mess. god, she wishes she could add to it, wishes this silicone could be real and she could send spurt after spurt of her seed into you. she wants to claim you in every way.

and it seems you feel the same way, your mouth desperate and quick on her neck, sucking dark marks into her skin. lee’s so sensitive that she feels like every patch you give attention to is made of needles, prickling, skimming and stinging as you nip and mark her up.

when you pull away, your lips turn up in a wide smile. you mutter, lips ghosting hers, “you’re all mine, okay?”

lee bites her lip, arousal coursing through her from the words. since you guys got together, it’s been clear you have a possessive streak to your affection. usually, lee wouldn’t like the idea of someone staking any sort of claim on her. but, with you, there’s something sweet about it, how badly you want her to be only yours. it also amuses her, since she’s been yours for months, and there’s no way she’d leave you – so, this side of is less than reasonable to her.

but, your jealousy has never caused any dire sort of situation in your guys’ relationship, so as of now, the little showings of it are something she allows herself to find pleasure in, both from how endearing you are when it happens and from how it makes her feel to be so wholeheartedly desired.

besides, she’s not much better than you in that regard. maybe some, but not a lot.

“I’m yours.”

“good, good,” you moan, dragging her back in for a long kiss, your tongue clumsily swirling around hers.

minutes later, you whimper, your voice timid when you mumble, “lee, my thighs… they hurt.”

lee laughs lightly against your lips, feeling heat pool in her stomach from your confession. wordlessly, she eases you off her cock, relishing in the moan you release when she slips out fully. she pushes you gently onto your stomach, nearly gasping at how good you look like this. your back’s fully exposed, sweat shining the skin, and your ass has lee’s fingers twitching with how badly she wants to hit it. she runs her fingers along your thighs, stopping to grip your hips tightly and tug you up so that your ass is in the air. you whine at the change of position, rubbing back against her bobbing, sopping dildo.

lee grits her teeth, taking in a deep breath before she starts.

once you’ve adjusted, she doesn’t falter, her hips snapping against you without a moment of slowing down. you bury your face into her pillow, incomprehensible words flowing from your mouth, muffled against the fabric. her nails dig so hard into your flesh that she leaves crescent-shaped marks, and she can’t help but fondle with the skin there, groping and pinching as she pumps in.

“can you spank me?” you whine, biting into the pillowcase.

lee doesn’t respond, but her hand immediately plants a firm swat on your ass, teeth clenching at the way you rock back against her from the impact. at this angle, she can see the way the rim to your hole stretches over her, latching onto her cock and keeping her locked in. she brushes her thumb against it, breaths heaving at the way your arousal sometimes drips when she pulls out.

later, you come with lee still behind you, your front pressed against her headboard, back flush to her breasts as she encircles you in her arms. her mouth feels practically ravenous, hungry kisses littered over your neck as she rubs at your clit and mumbles, “so tight for me, so good. I can’t wait to see you come for me like this.”

you cry out, clutching onto her arms. “I need it so bad.”

“yeah?” she snickers, an idea stirring in her mind.

a moment later, her thrusts slow, finger circling your clit with enough pressure to get you twitching, but light enough that any orgasm drawn from it would be so far from satisfying.

“beg,” she murmurs, pinching your nipple hard.

your entire body writhes, head falling against her shoulder as you cry out. “but, but, it’s embarrassing–”

“I don’t care,” lee cuts in, stiff as she tries to keep her voice calm and removed from the trembles and heavy breathing that results from her arousal. “if you beg, I’ll make you feel good. otherwise, you can get yourself off.”

“lee!” you moan in protest. “that’s so mean–mmph!”

she shuts you up with a hard kiss, teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip. “I don’t care. do it.”

“I–I…” your words falter, before a quiet string of them fall from your lips. “please, lee, I need it so bad.”

“you can do better than that,” she whispers. there’s something about dominating like this that’s also relieving in its own right. she gets to focus solely on guiding and directing you through a series of steps – something she’s good. in addition to that, she can’t help but feel her mind go a bit slack at just how eager you are to follow directions, just how much of a control she has over you.

despite all the progress she made since the start of university, it still makes her feel a bit guilty, to thrive off of that. but, she tries not to pay it mind in this moment, when your moans and cries are clear indicators that you’re enjoying this too.

“fine, I– please, please, please, lee! I need it so bad, need to come so bad, I’m aching for it, and I promise I’ll be good, and–” your words break off into a stifled noise as she starts working her way into you again, hips slamming vigorously.

you come just like that, body squirming, lips hovering against hers as you softly wail into the small space of her bedroom. your hips flinch all the way through it, and lee needs to press her arms into you to keep you still. lee hearing and witnessing the evidence of your pleasure has her taut with tension and arousal. you look perfect like this – sweaty, exhausted, and thoroughly taken care of.

post-cuddles, when lee tosses the strap onto the towel on the floor, she immediately flushes at the downright evil giggle you release at seeing her grey boxers soaked through.

“now, what do we have here?” you drawl, fingers slipping down the waistband and drawing them down. when you spread her thighs out, eyes immediately flicking to the spot between them, lee feels heat run up her neck from the way you smile, eyes crinkling in sheer satisfaction. “such a mess, baby.”

she swallows hard. “I– it’s not my fault.”

“oh, I know, I know,” you gently soothe, shifting down her bed to get your head lower. “you poor thing, you just couldn’t help it, could you?”

your tone, so sweet, so patronizing, has her hips shifting, a mix of embarrassment and arousal whirling through her.

when you keep staring at her, clearly awaiting an answer, she rolls her eyes, though her hips stutter. “no, I couldn’t.”

“you know, I’d usually make you wait longer for this kind of attitude.” you bat your lashes at her, and lee feels her clit throb when you flatten your tongue along her inner thigh and stroke along it slowly. “but, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

lee’s bucking into your face a few moments later, her entire pussy aching with the way you devour her, starting off with slow, open-mouth kisses along her folds and lips, pausing to draw different spots into your mouth and tug on them until she hisses in protest. you lave your tongue all over her, tracing and slipping, as though you’re starving and eager to drink up everything she has to offer. the thought itself is enough to make lee squirm.

when you get to her clit, you keep the point of your tongue stroking along the hood, not directly on the bud just yet but toying at the sides. lee’s fingers tighten onto the sheets, her patience waning.

“please, I need more,” she gasps out, her long-awaiting arousal snatching her of any reservations.

“awe, but you sound so cute like this.” your words are punctuated with a delicate kiss to her clit, and lee releases a choked out gasp.

after a few more small, wet kisses peppered over the length of her, you finally round your lips around her clit, sucking it in with fluid motions. everytime your lips tighten around her, the ache in her clit deepens, and lee’s head falls against her pillow, mouth hanging open as a velvety, warm surges through her.

with two fingers buried in her deep, your mouth is relentless in your attempt to draw out pleasure from her, moving from slow, patient sucks and kisses to your tongue flattening and running up and down her clit. the firm, steady rolls of your tongue have her teetering on the edge of climax, . it only worsens when you lift your thumb up, and start flicking the bottom of her clit, your tongue moving in quick, hard motions against the rest.

without meaning to, her hands fly up, gripping onto your head and keeping you in place as her hips mindlessly thrust into your face, her entire back arching as an embarrassingly high-pitched noise wrings from her throat. her orgasm hits her so hard that it almost feels like something is internally shattering, releasing a damn of hot, overwhelming relief through her body, almost painful in how intense it is.

when the last of her aftershocks wear off, shakily lowering her body back to the mattress, she sucks in a deep breath. “I– thanks. for that.”

you giggle, crawling up her body. “I should thank you.” laying on top of her, you kiss her slowly, tenderly, and lee basks under the attention. there’s something painfully vulnerable, and limitlessly freeing, when she’s surrounded in such unabashed intimacy with you. a part of herself, the one containing the desires and wants, that’s usually kept wedged shut, is totally open to you and all your care. it’s frightening, it’s fragile, but it feels so nice when you receive her with nothing but understanding kisses and words, assuring her of everything she wants with you.

when you break the kiss, you mutter, “giving me the strap just two days before you leave. that’s evil, you know?”

despite herself, a lazy grin curls on her lips, the weight of you on top of her possibly one of the most comforting things she’s ever felt. especially when you stroke her hair and rub her arm. she feels so desired under your gaze, yeah, and she’s not used to it, and feels a bit awkward by it. but, it also makes her feel like she’s being seen in a way only you can behold in your gaze. that makes it special. and to know you want her, maybe as much as she wants you – as surreal and intimidating as it is, it makes her stomach flip.“maybe it was part of some ploy to ensure you stay waiting for me.”

“trust me, you need no ploy.”

lee bites her lip. you’re so sure of her, so certain about your choice in her. she doesn’t know how to handle that.

but, she will, at least now, let herself indulge in it, her head curling into your neck.

✩

–

“can I please get these?”

you immediately recognize the voice, like the soundwaves of it are imprinted on your heart. head jolting up, your cheeks ache at the sight of lee timidly sliding over some candy and a bouquet of flowers.

“sure, miss,” you drawl out, hands shaking a bit as you scan and check out her items. she’s picked you up after your shifts before, sure, but she’s never actually seen you in action. it puts a silly sort of pressure on you, and you try to be smooth and efficient in packing her things up in a paper bag. “what are the flowers for?” you add, batting your eyes exaggeratedly at her.

“for amaya.”

“oh.” your bottom lip juts out, and you meekly slide her groceries to the edge of the counter. it makes sense, considering amaya’s small get-together is tonight and lee will be wishing her off. but, still, ugh, how embarrassing.

after taking in the sight of you for a few moments, lee says, “I can get you some too.”

“no, but now, it’s only happening because I asked for it!” you whine, feeling rather petulant.

“but, isn’t that how anything is acquired? you ask for it before?”

your teeth clench at her logic. “but, with flowers, that should be a given!”

“how, though? I didn’t know if you liked them or not, so I didn’t get them.”

“yes, but you could’ve figured it out by getting me some.” your tone is embarrassingly high-pitched now, raising in exasperation.

her eyebrows furrow. “but, if you didn’t like them, then it’d be a waste of money.”

“I’d automatically like them because they’re from you!”

she blinks at you, her mouth curling in thought. after a moment, she says, “okay, I’ll remember that.”

you give her a pointed look, yanked out of the conversation when an old man begins placing his groceries on the belt. at least it didn’t end on a bad note, considering she seems to get your perspective. and as stubborn as you feel, you understand hers, too – it’s one crafted by pure logic and a bit of lax regarding social norms. which encapsulates your girlfriend perfectly.

when you’re done cashing up the man’s groceries, there’s a moment of quiet before any new customers come, and you use it to breathe in the quiet buzz of the day, thankful for the store soon closing. lee takes advantage of it, moving closer and dragging her finger through your belt loop. “are you upset?”

you’re unable to resist the smile that prods at your mouth. “no. I get what you mean. I’m sorry.” you blow out a deep breath. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“yeah, I’m sure that’s all there is to it,” she whispers, the sweet little lines near her mouth dipping as she grins. “don’t forget, we leave at nine.”

“yes, mom,” you shoot, gently pushing her at the hip as she walks away.

at maria and amaya’s party, you watch in admiration as lee bounces between your side and her friends’. you try to give her that space, wanting her to have time with them as just a trio before amaya leaves. whenever lee catches your gaze from across the room, you give her a subtle thumbs up, smiling softly at the sight of her, laughing and relaxed with her friends. she always nods at your reassurance, though it’s usually followed by her visiting your little corner, tucked away with some random people you don’t know. she checks on you, diligently, without break.

and you check on her in your own private ways too. fiddling with her bangs when she comes over to you, quietly asking if she needs a moment alone. the first time she nods, a response you had anticipated from her stiff stance and flickering eyes, you hold her hand and ask maria if the two of you could head to her bedroom for a second. she seems to understand immediately and sends the two of you off.

but, you can tell the party does lee some good. even though she continues to slink off to maria’s bedroom throughout the night, she’s attached to her friends for most of it, welcoming their touches and leaning on them as they talk, gaze intent. and her eyes glimmer with a sort of pride when amaya eagerly takes the flowers, arms tossing around lee and yanking her down for a hug.

the party, surprisingly, does you some good, too. when you join the three of them deeper into the night, lee’s hand resting on your back, amaya says, “lee told us you’re still kind of undecided on what to do, right?”

you wish the earth would swallow you whole, a pinch of irritation piercing your stomach at lee’s revelation. wincing slightly, you hesitantly say, “yeah, I don’t really know what I want to do.”

you brace yourself for some judgement, an awkward silence or a round of laughter. or some confusion as to how you’ve been in university for four years and still haven’t managed to figure it out.

but, instead, maria shrugs and says, “listen, I’ve known I’ve wanted to go into law since I was in middle school, but I don’t think that’s the only way to do it. my sister changed her major during her fourth year, switching from engineering to music. and such a last minute change probably wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t rushed her decision and just picked something my parents wanted. so, really, you’re probably gonna waste a lot less time figuring things out, and then looking for a job, as opposed to rushing, working in a field you don’t like for years, then having to start all over.”

your mouth twitches as her shoulders lift into a delicate shrug, taking a sip from her drink and then sneering at the contents of the cup. god, she’s so much like lee. pure, unadulterated, hard logic.

whereas amaya seems to be the sweet, calm sort of balm, adding, “plus, even for your own peace of mind – it’s better to make a choice you’re sure about.” she offers you a nod, eyes soft. “it’s not a race, you know. take your time, and you’ll be okay.”

their words have you nearly driven to tears from the relief it settles upon you. for weeks, you’ve been feeling a range of emotions, from insecurity to fear, about your lack of plans and surety as to what you want to do post-grad. and while lee has been such a comfort, part of you has worried that her comforting comes from a place of her not wanting to hurt you. which doesn’t make sense, considering her natural bluntness, but still, your anxieties make it all too easy to minimize that aspect of being. so, to hear two people who owe you nothing telling you it’s okay, handling the situation with a kindness that’s both pragmatic and centered on time, as well as gentle and reassuring, takes a weight off your shoulders. it doesn’t completely ease your worries, but it certainly helps.

you go before lee, wanting to give her some time alone with her friends so they can properly exchange their goodbyes. before you go, you take out your camera and snap a picture of the three of them, amaya making a silly expression, maria smiling widely, and lee, after some convincing from amaya, meekly poking out her tongue.

when they hug you goodbye, and you get to maria, she whispers, “thank you for looking after her.”

the small show of gratitude warms you for the rest of your way home. to think that you’ve secured the approval of her friend in that way, as well as recognition for the ways in which you try to support her. it makes you feel like you’re doing something right.

when lee returns home, her eyes are tired, sad, and she immediately dives into your bed, nuzzling sweetly into your chest. you know that discomfort and a faint sense of mourning must be keeping her company. her friend will be gone when she returns from her mother’s, a friend who’s been webbed into her life for four years now. you can’t even begin to imagine the amount of pain lee is in – she probably won’t tell you, that much is certain, but you can feel it in the way her breaths shudder against your skin, her body sagged and pliant.

“it’ll be okay,” you murmur into her chestnut hair, dotting kisses into the smooth locks of it. “you guys can try to work in, like, weekly phone calls.”

“it’s not the same,” she whispers.

there’s no denying it, so all you can do is whisper, “I know, baby,” and hold her close.

minutes later, you shiver upon feeling the kiss she presses on your neck, her hot breath ghosting along your skin as she mutters, “it won’t be the same without you either.”

your arm tightens at the reminder of tomorrow’s departure. you’ve been trying not to think too much about it, simply wanting to deal with it when it happens and not have to carry the weight of premature longing and devastation. but, now, when there’s less than twenty four hours lingering between this moment and when lee will leave, you can’t help but cling onto her. in another week, you yourself will be heading home for two weeks, but still, it’s not the same without the steady, formidable rock of your girlfriend, with those dark embers that make you feel alive, and those fleeting smiles that make her face glow like the moon. the gentle touches that protectively skim along your waist, the way she’s so careful and kind, her thoughtfulness laced into every word. how will you do without those things? how will you manage without being there to give her comfort and love when she needs it? you want to be there to hold her, assure her, take care of her. staying away is just as heartbreaking for the things you can’t give her as it is for the things you can’t receive.

“call me when you reach, okay?”

“I will. and call me if you need anything.”

“that comes with the risk of you potentially leaving early and driving to rescue me,” you giggle, getting lost in the motion of twirling her dark hair around your fingers.

“what’s wrong with that?” she mumbles, dipping her nose into your neck.

you lightly smack her back with a chortle. “lee! you need to stay with your mom.”

“I know, so I’d just drive back to oregon once the problem is resolved.”

god, what did you do to deserve her? you want to sprinkle her face in thousands of kisses, body seized with a deep squeeze of gratitude for her. “that’s sweet. but, only do something like that for emergencies, yeah?” your voice trickles to a gentler tone at the end, not wanting to make her feel scolded.

“if it’s you, it always feels like an emergency.”

your eyebrows scrunch together. “is this meant to be a dig about me being clumsy?”

“no, it’s meant to be a fact about how much I– how much I worry.” her voice lowers towards the end, and you squeeze, wondering if she’s thinking of her mother.

you rub her back, hoping the motion will help relax her. “nothing will happen, baby.”

she hums, raising her head up. “I’ll, um… I’ll miss you.” she dips her head down, planting a kiss to the point of your chin. “a lot.”

everytime she speaks a sentiment like that, it feels like a flower in you is blooming anew, all of them collected in your chest – a garden just for you to look back on and tend to when you want to remember her. with each kiss, she waters it, and with each tender word, she plants something new. you know how hard it’s been for her, to get more accustomed to being so open, but she’s trying, you know she is. and though her words may stumble with awkwardness, and pause with careful consideration, they carry a world of intention. and what’s more romantic than that?

“I’ll miss you, too. sweet angel.”

she stills at that. “you say things like that so easily.”

“because it’s the truth.”

“I don’t know if it is.”

“that’s okay. I’ll know it for you.”

you feel an amused huff hit your neck and can’t help but smile in pride over having made her laugh. “so, I have no choice but to agree to these terms and conditions?”

“none at all.”

“so, I probably shouldn’t try to convince you otherwise, then?” the words are mixed in with open-mouthed kisses to your neck, her hand rubbing at your tummy, the cool touch making you arch up.

“I can’t make any promises, but you can try,” you laugh, tugging on her ponytail so she can kiss you.

you two make love several times that night, bodies melding and conjoining in a blur of sweat, kisses and soft words, with breaks in between consisting of lying in bed, talking, or falling asleep before one of you starts yearning for touch again.

you can’t find it in your heart to rank these short, warm moments, but your favourite amongst them has to be the last. it’s four in the morning, the world outside is still dark, the stars staring upon you with twinkling eyes. the windows have been tossed open, noises of drunken students and dragonflies bringing your apartment to life. lee is at the stove, flipping two grilled cheese sandwiches on a pan smeared with bubbling butter, the smell of the toast wafting from the kitchen to the bathroom, where you sit on the toilet, washing your sore center, the door unabashedly open so that you can hear the music.

at the sound of an all-too-familiar strum of the guitar, you race out after washing your hands, nearly tripping over your discarded bra on the floor.

“I love this song,” you squeal, dashing to the radio and turning on one knob until the noise of it is loud and clear.

just as always, lee asks, “what is it?”

“you don’t know it?” you gasp. “we were kids when it came out, it’s the smiths!” you used to get giddy whenever a friend’s parent put it on in the car when driving you all somewhere. especially during summertime, with the windows wound down and the breeze flying through your hair. it felt freeing, like you were getting a taste of independence, head sticking out the window and that deep, husky voice surrounding you, thrusting you into a flurry of dreams and hopes.

lee pauses, eyebrows drawing in as she listens. after a few moments, she shakes her head. “no, I don’t.”

“it’s dangerously underrated.” you turn it up a bit more, leaning on the counter to stare at her. there’s something special about the moment with the way the warm, orange light dimly coats lee’s body, how her lithe, strong fingers work on the sandwich, the aroma of it wrapping around the apartment. how the melancholic song, heavy and moist like a spring wind near the water, plays in the background of this quiet, private night that feels reserved for just the two of you. anyone else existing in it is far from this small kitchen, playing on the streets, dancing under the streetlights, maybe even relishing in the flow of music through your open windows.

lee must feel your eyes on her, for she raises hers to yours slowly, mouth parting then shutting before asking, “what is it?”

“do you wanna dance?”

you don’t know why, but something about this night feels like it’s set apart from the rest, lingering in this space where nothing can go wrong, where all the rules and realities are bent. the girl you love is leaving tomorrow, you both are up at an obscene time when she should probably be asleep, and also spent hours upon hours rolling around in the bed that a year ago, you never thought she’d occupy. and so, you want to do something with her you two have never done together, something she’d usually say no to.

“um, not really.”

you skip over to her spot at the stove. she’s never seen you dance, so part of you is just as embarrassed, your stomach coiling with nervousness. but, her own hesitation pushes you forward, hoping your own false courage rubs off on her. “c’mon, please, please. please, just this once.” you hold her wrist, lightly tugging.

she gives you a narrowed look, but doesn’t pull out of your grip. “I–I don’t dance.”

“I don’t do it much either! but, c’mon, it’ll be fun.”

she flatly watches you. “will it really?”

honestly, knowing lee, it feels a bit of a lie to confirm the truth of the notion. “I don’t know, let’s see.”

you tug again, and with a sigh, she switches off the stove, letting you guide her. you guys end up in the small space between the kitchen and living room, and you awkwardly swing your arms together, not really knowing what to do. lee stares at the ground, clearly just as uncomfortable as you. you use that to urge yourself on, grabbing her other hand and beginning to push and pull between the two of you to the beat.

when lee keeps her body stiff, arms flailing lifelessly from your encouragement, you whine, “okay, give me something!”

“I don’t even know what qualifies as ‘something’ when it comes to dancing.”

“just any movement, c’mon, you can do it!” you coax, intensifying your movements by bouncing on the balls of your feet. it feels slightly humiliating to devote more of your body to dancing when lee is still as frozen as ice, but you push yourself through for the sake of making her more comfortable. besides, the longer you two stay together, the more likely she’ll bear witness to even more weird shit from you, so might as well peel one layer off now.

you do a small twirl under her arm, but lee’s death grip makes you struggle to do it smoothly, so you wind up stumbling in a circle under your raised arms. it ignites a chuckle from lee, and you use that as an opportunity to pull her in closer, jumping a bit higher.

“come on, come on, pretend it’s exercise,” you laugh, pressing a shaky kiss to her lips. in the middle of it, lee hesitantly waddles her shoulders side to side, the rest of her body honed in on one position, simply standing upright.

you’re more than encouraged by the minimal movements, tightly gripping her hands and continuing to jump and twirl around her until she seems a tad looser, letting you yank and spin her body around. you two dance around the apartment for a while like that, your warm interlocked fingers giving you just enough leverage to pull her around the apartment, dragging her into head-dizzying swivels and pushes and pulls that send your arms pained with the exertion, cheeks aching with sheer, childlike delight.

you even pull out a few laughs of lee, who later into it, seems to actually enjoy herself, beaming and moving faintly with you. and you feel like you could float.

please keep me in mind.

a sentiment that wraps around your body when you dance, as well as in the morning after, when you lie next to lee in the morning. she’s still asleep, sweet thing, her torso bare from the night having gotten too hot from her. she looks perfect like this, your floral sheets wrapped around the slope of her waist, her freckled back the dip you get to press your lips against.

when the time gets close to 10:00AM, which she had set her alarm to, you give into your finger’s urges, laying them upon her freckled skin. you trace mindless patterns and swirling shapes, smiling at the way her body slightly squirms under your ministrations. you continue like that, using her back as your sheet of paper to draw anything you’d like.

you pause, thinking of a particular note you’d like to leave her if you did have some paper. a note you’d like to write all over her if you could, until it sinks into her just how real the sentiment is.

maybe you’ll write it now – something temporary to convey to her, something that feels a bit easier with the absence of permanency. maybe once she returns, you’ll have built up the courage to really tell her it.

I LOVE YOU.

you sign it with a kiss, pulling back when she groans, rubbing her eyes, panic momentarily bursting through your stomach.

she rolls back to you, eyes filled with goop in the inner corners. you raise your thumb to smear some of it away, pecking her nose. she doesn’t say anything, and seems to be right in the first moments of awakening, which eases some of your anxieties.

she raises her arm, brown underarm hair tickling against your cheek, smelling of her deodorant. long fingers brush through your hair, and you swallow hard at the feeling of her dark eyes resting intently upon you. they flick along every feature painting your face, and the sharp focus of it has your face warming.

“what is it?”

“you’re beautiful.”

there’s no hesitation in the words, and the surety of them have you laughing shyly, flicking her chest lightly and mumbling, “no, you are.”

her lip quirks up. “is this gonna turn into a competition?”

“yeah, but you have to head onto a train soon, so I’ll probably be the one to have the last word.”

she snorts. “good to know that winning by default isn’t below you.”

“hey, it’s still winning,” you cackle, though secretly, you know it won’t feel like winning at all when lee steps onto that train.

the evidence of that fact comes to you too quickly, the next few hours of breakfast and taking the subway to the station lee’s train is departing from happening all too fast. it all flashes by so fast that by the time the line is moving and lee needs to head down the escalator, duffel bag clutched tightly, you feel a rush of emotions surge into you at the sight of her so close to leaving – pride for what you now know she’s going back for, heartache for the struggle it’ll be, loneliness at the thought of her absence, and another ache, one that can only truly be described with one word.

lee’s eyes flick to behind her, where people are heading down the escalator in a messy, jumbled file. “I should go.”

you’d maybe grow insecure about whether leaving is difficult for her if it weren’t for how when she turns back to you, her eyes are wide, blinking hard, hesitation clearly present in the way they remain pinned on your face, unmoving, even though she ought to be leaving. her empty hand is rolled into a tight fist, stretching out to rasp against her thigh before she mutters, “can I hug you?”

you immediately lunge at her, throwing your arms around her neck. you feel the fabric of her duffle bag brush your leg as she drops it, her strong arms wrapping around your waist and holding your body flush to hers. she buries her nose into your neck, and you nearly croak at the way she breathes you in. you know how much she likes that spot in your neck, how often she lays her head in it when cuddling. you wonder if she’ll miss it. if she does, you can’t imagine how it’d be even half as much as you’ll miss her steady, grounding arms around you.

you dig your nails into her shoulders, trying to relish in this last moment of her being around you, totally surrounding your every sense. she smells of her neutral soap, accompanied by a faint whiff of cologne and the familiarity of your laundry detergent, coating an old t-shirt of yours that she threw on this morning. the sight had made you soften in all the right places, wanting to bury your face in her chest and scream at the sight of her wearing something belonging to you. it produced such a possessive bolt through you – she’s yours, yours and yours. yours, completely. your lee, comfortable enough to borrow your clothes, intimate enough with you to wear them as her own and let the fabric that’s rested on your skin for years slide against yours. it makes you feel moulded into her, as though deep in the stitches there had always existed a patient wait for lee to one day wear this as her own.

when you two part, faces close enough that your breaths to intermingle, you wait for her to push away and go, wanting to soak up the sight of her as much as possible before she leaves.

instead, she raises a trembling hand to your cheek and cups it, rough fingertips stroking the small bumps dotting your skin. a moment later, she leans into you and plants a short-lived kiss on your lips, firm and filled with an acute sense of intention and determination. you can feel the concentration and strength it takes for her to do that, her breaths shaky and heaving against you when she separates. but, she’s trying. for you, for herself, for what you two have. it makes you want to drag her back in for another, but her eyes are skittering nervously to the escalator, and you know she’s feeling too anxious to be running more late.

you gently push at her wrist. “go, go, baby. call me when you get there, okay?”

“I will.” she slips her wrist from your grip, sliding her fingers between yours and gently squeezing. “page me when you reach the apartment.”

the unspoken meaning hangs between you both.

when she starts going down the escalator, her head swivels back to her. trying to not worry her with the heartache that’s already settling in, pained and filled with the weight of dread, you blow her a kiss.

you recover momentarily when she glances around before sending you one back, the gesture stiff, awkward, and oh-so lovely.

as it turns out, you recover from the heartache in a sprinkle of different moments that day.

✩

it doesn’t fully go, but it eases in those seconds. like when you curl into lee’s bed and sleep in her scent. or when you get off to the memories of last night. or when you call one of your friends and make plans to develop your pictures tomorrow.

✩

or when you’re drinking tea before bed and as you head to the tree to turn off the tree’s lights, you find a tape laying upon the mini-skirt of it.

body thrumming with excitement, you pick it up, a grin splitting on your face when you read the sticky note pressed to its side.

It’s a bit late in terms of when you wanted one, but I hope you’ll accept it now. Think of it as an overdue gift from someone who would’ve wanted to make you one back in high school if we had been just a bit closer to each other.

– Lee

just like last time this happened, your eyes water, emotions seizing at you from the thoughtfulness of her gift. she really was always listening, wasn’t she? picking up on clues and hints about her loved ones, almost like little love notes, and using them to thoroughly understand all of them. her care seems to have no bounds – always executed through her attentive listening, mental noting, and action. true action, where no promises are broken and no doubt could ever be tied to her earnestness.

you immediately pop it into your walkman, eagerly putting on your headphones and walking to the kitchen. as you make a sandwich in this place that cracks and bends with familiarity, Good Old-Fashioned Loverboy playing in your ears and making the tears leak out, plans to meet your friends hanging on your mind, you suddenly feel very at ease. you may not know all your answers, or be sure of everything you feel, or are even over everything you feel, like the occasional bouts of anxiety for the future. but, this is still a life. one that you breathe in everyday, that has little rituals you could never part from, and contains things you are sure of.

and that’s enough.

–

when lee walks up the pathway to her small white home, the unmaintained grass and weeds scratching insistently at her shins (she makes a mental note to mow it down later into the week), she lets her eyes wander around, drinking in the sight. her preferred seasons are fall or winter, but she can’t ignore how beautiful oregon looks this time of year. in the heady month of august, her mother’s home is surrounded by lush trees that arch over the roof, the pine trees a dark contrast. maybe that’s why she’d like to live in a cottage. maybe it’d make her feel more tethered to her childhood home in a way that living in the city never could. she purses her lips as she steps onto the porch. she never thought of it that way.

she tentatively opens the door, the creak ringing through the house and making her cringe. her eyes immediately scan the staircase, feeling a pierce of discomfort at the two new boxes that seem to have been added since her last visit. the more she looks around, the more the sizzling anxiety in her stomach begins to burn. she draws in heavy, even breaths, trying to level herself. she can focus on this later. right now, she wants to see her mom.

her hand pushes the door to the living room open, her mother seated on a couch that is propped in the back with more blankets a person could ever need in the summer. trinkets and clutter turn the room into filth, hiding the floor and any inch of an empty surface. lee swallows hard and quietly says, “hi, mom,” approaching the woman in question.

her chin fits just right on her mother’s shoulder, silky grey hair rubbing against her cheek as they embrace for a long while. with anyone else, excluding her friends and you, she’d be on edge from such a lingering touch. but, with her mom, it’s an automatic, something she doesn’t even think twice about before giving her now. it’s become that embedded into their interactions, especially since lee moved away for university.

when lee sits next to her, a hand immediately patting down the soaked-through back of her t-shirt, her mother asks, “how were exams?”

“good.” she hesitates before blurting out, “I upped the lease. I’m going to stay there for a while longer.”

her mother is silent for a long while, her hand freezing, and lee instinctively tenses, awaiting some verbal reprimanding. they never really spoke of what lee would do post-graduation, but lee can imagine part of her mom had hoped for her to return to oregon and work there.

“I’m sorry. I want to come back. maybe one day.” she intentionally keeps it vague – she really isn’t sure if she’ll return.

the hand resumes its stroking. “I can’t blame you for that, babygirl. what would you do here?”

work. take care of you, probably.

lee sighs. “I don’t know.”

“I wanted more at your age, too. to work, to be away from my family.”

that’s what hurts, too. all her mom has missed out on, all that’s been lost in the midst of that night and the results of it. her mom had once been a nurse – still paranoid, still religious, but lee likes to think she was at least content with her life. now, however? lee isn’t sure if her mom could even answer that.

“do you feel you got that? more than what was expected of you, I mean.” lee rarely asks about her mom’s past. as a child, she always did, filled to the brim with curiosity over the kind of person her mother was before lee came into existence. now, lee never asked. not out of disinterest, she actually thought of her mom’s life a lot. but, it felt too close, too personal, to be asking those things, after years of avoidance.

“I mean, I had you. that gave me more.”

“in a bad way?”

“no.” her mom’s lips tilt up in a faint smile, and lee wishes she knew the meaning of it. “I mean, having you gave me more than I expected to have in this life.”

most daughters would be pleased to hear such a thing. but, all lee feels is a sense of embarrassment at the vulnerable words, as well as doubt. lee undoubtedly did give her mom more than she expected – but, was that really good? with lee’s birth, came the isolation, the thirteenth of january, and everything that occurred after. her mom did, indeed, get more than she bargained for, but lee couldn’t help but feel that more in this case meant unexpected horror. guilt churns in her stomach, and god, she wishes something had been done differently in the trajectory of her mom’s life. something that could’ve prevented all of this.

“maybe too much.”

lee shifts when she feels her mother’s gaze linger on her, and she suddenly regrets having said that.

“you think I regret it?” lee’s mom’s voice is hushed, raspy at the ends with old age. “I’d do it again. and again, and again…”

as her words dissolve into murmurs, lee feels her stomach sink. her mom is slipping away from this moment, this conversation. lee lets it happen, mulling over her previous words. you think I regret it? how could she not regret it? lee doesn’t know if she likes the idea of her mother not regretting it any more than the idea of her mom regretting having had lee as a daughter. because if her mother doesn’t regret it, then that means part of her mother is okay with all that happened, and maybe even takes a sort of pride in it. all because she wanted lee to be here, no matter the expense. and lee doesn’t want her mother to find any sort of pleasure in this situation, especially because of her.

“you shouldn’t,” lee whispers, the sound rough. “I wouldn’t want you to deal with all this again.”

her mother’s murmurs crawl into a silence, and she pauses, pursing her lips, before saying, “I would. so, that you could grow up. so, that I can see my little lee grow up.”

lee chews on the inside of her bottom lip silently. she never wanted her upbringing to be at the expense of her mother. but, she knows her mother is just as stubborn as she is. there’s no way of convincing her to regret lee or the situation. if her mom accepts it, if she’s glad of it, lee knows she can’t change that. who knows, maybe lee would feel the exact same way if her life choices also meant she got to live with and watch the life of someone she cared for progress. maybe she just doesn’t really understand the care of a mother just yet – the kind that surpasses anything, so long as your child gets to live and exist.

her mom’s hand rests on her lower back. “I wanted to have you. it meant I got to watch you grow up.”

“yeah, but…” it meant I got to watch you fall apart. lee can’t bear to say that, though. she doesn’t have the courage to bring to the surface that much. “so much…” she wants to talk about everything, she really does. but, years of failure to do so, both because of her own anxiety and her mother’s refusal to talk, hold her back. is there even a point now?

her mom speaks before she can decide. “it was okay. I don’t even remember it, I don’t– I don’t remember anything.”

lee swallows hard, her stomach stretching in frustration. she knows her mother remembers, she knows. she just doesn’t want to tell lee. lee wishes she could just drill into her mother’s head that she’s not a child anymore, she can handle the truth. well, the second part may be false. but, at least she’d be there, and they could struggle together. at least lee could know, and have the gap filled, and do something, anything.

her mother’s head turns away, jaw tight. lee knows she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore – maybe she can’t.

her hand, trembling lightly, raises, goes back down, then plants hesitantly on her mother’s knee. “you know, if you… ever want to talk about anything, or, I don’t know, what happened, you can talk to me. I’m ready to hear it.”

her mom grips onto lee’s hand like an anchor, and in the squeeze, lee hears the silent acknowledgement, the words her mom can’t, maybe ever, bear to say.

“it was worth it,” is all her mother murmurs.

lee sighs, then awkwardly, without surety, dips her head onto her mother’s shoulder. she can’t remember the last time she initiated touch like this with her. it feels restrained and uncomfortable, completely foreign and out of place to lee’s body. but, it’s at least something she can offer. she no longer lives here, and can commit to the daily diligence of working and taking care of her mom, which is how she showed her care before. and she still knows nothing, so can offer no weak attempts of verbal comfort. but, maybe this touch, the kind her mother seems to always like and leans into, can be some kind of offering.

it’s impossible that things can be fixed completely, at least anytime soon. but, she can at least show she’s there. sometimes, she doesn’t want to be, especially after having been there maybe too much in the past. but, when it comes down to it, she’d always be there, waiting for her mother. just as her mother is always here, waiting for her.

maybe one day, they’ll be able to talk about it and fill the gaps together. one day, lee knows she’ll tell her mother about you. she may not be ready now, she may never be ready to learn what her mom feels about it. but, she will speak on it – for her own sake, and yours. and maybe that’ll help her mother open up too, maybe it’ll help her learn that lee can have these conversations, that lee wouldn’t be timid or judgemental for anything that happened that night.

hours later, near to midnight, the television’s still playing in the background, and lee’s fingertips trace the receiver of the kitchen’s phone. she tries to weave together what she should say when you pick up, her thumb brushing the picture of you she secretly keeps in her wallet.

when she felt your secret message drawn into her back, her eyes had squeezed shut, heartbeat pounding. it was so delicate, slowed by something – lee’s not sure what. hesitation, maybe. but, she hadn’t dared to inquire. she hadn’t dared to do anything, really, anxiety plaguing her and making her frozen in place, unsure of how to react. the last thing she had expected were those three words to be thrusted onto her, and in a panic of how to perceive them, let alone respond, she immediately dropped it. after all, did you even mean it? maybe there was a reason you wrote instead of said it, like not being ready to declare it, or knowing if you even want to declare it.

and after the flurry of breakfast, last minute packing (a result of the late night of sweat and music, lee gathers), and the drop-off at the train station, lee finally had a moment to sit down, alone, and ask herself: did she love you?

the answer came as fast to her as only pure fact managed to: yes.

she learned a long time ago that love cannot be quantifiable, measured or determined solely by facts. in other words, it existed in a space she usually wasn’t comfortable to stand in, where feelings were the most reliable evidence. but, she knew, in her gut, that like no longer covered whatever it was she felt for you. in fact, using a word as simple and amicable as like felt like an offense to what it is she felt for you, and tasted sour in her mouth. in what she felt, there was too much intensity, too much of an overflow to hear your conversation and be better for you, to lie in your arms and remain safe there forever, for like to apply.

to her, that was proof enough. it felt like nothing but love, so it must be love – it was that simple. after all, process of elimination seemed the most reliable way of making sense of this feeling. but, the longer the train rode on, the more her thoughts lingered on the topic, she became convinced that even if she had paid just a bit more attention to how she felt, she probably would’ve figured it out. even when she was upset with you, there was a constant underbelly of care and tenderness. when something went wrong, she wanted to tell you and bury her face in your neck. when you showed any sign of sadness lee could manage to detect, she longed to do anything possible to bring you happiness. even if it means breaking down some of her own rock-hard walls, and taking steps of courage she’d fear treading otherwise. with you, it wasn’t easy to be vulnerable, but it was something she wanted to try harder for. because she wanted this to last, and she wanted you happy and cared for. you understand her, she understands you – and she wanted you to understand her, which is a rarity. to her, that’s love.

she picks up the phone. your absence has her longing to hear hear your voice. she’ll make no mention of the three words. she won’t.

“hello?”

she nearly breaks right then and there. “hey.”

“hi, baby.” your voice is like a fire, and she rolls in the hearth of it. “how has it been?”

“fine. we spoke a bit. I told her what you mentioned, about, you know, being there when she’s ready to talk.”

she hears you sigh. “I’m so proud of you, lee. I’m sure she appreciated it.”

she twirls the spirals of the phone along her finger, feeling warmed by the words. “thank you. and you? what have you done today?”

“I listened to a certain tape, lover boy.”

your words end with a small bout of laughter and lee bites her lip, cheeks heating up. she had hoped you’d like it, feeling all too exposing and vulnerable in the process of making it. but, she had done her best to push through, knowing it would make you feel happy, even if a mixtape wasn’t something you still harboured much of a wish for. placing it under the tree while you used the bathroom before leaving had felt like laying her heart out on the line. or whatever that saying was.

“you liked it?”

“I loved it,” you say, your tone sounding like something lee can only describe as melty, eased at the edges, your laughter dissolved. “it’s so lovely, lee. I’ve nearly broken my pencil with all the times I’ve re-wound it. I just– thank you. god, it’s such a nice gift, lee, it means so much to me.”

“it was– you had mentioned the mixtape. you know, from high school?”

“you remember that?” your voice raises a notch higher, sounding so touched that lee needs to clear her throat before answering.

“yes.”

“you remember everything, don’t you?”

lee smiles. “I wish I did.”

“me too.” after a pause, you ask, “do you really feel that way, like what’s described in the song? you always think of me? you, you know… yeah, do you feel those things?”

lee clutches onto the phone tighter. two words in the song ring loud and clear in her head, two that flow in just as the melody simmers to a slow. if she answers “yes,” will you realize just how much she means them? she inhales a sharp breath – she doesn’t want to lie to you, and now seems like an opportune moment to tell you what she’s been feeling. she hates being impulsive, yes, but, rare of an occurrence it is, she’s desirous to make her feelings known. maybe it’s to see if you meant what you traced on her back, but also because she just wants it to be known. she wants you to know that what she feels for you can no longer fall under any other word, and she wants you to at least exist with the knowledge that she loves you, even if you don’t return it. she wants to answer you honestly.

“I, um… I feel…” why is it so hard to say? she has to keep reminding herself that no matter what happens, you and her can together handle any change this could spring upon the two of you. and even if change did come, logically, how bad could it be? she’s simply a person telling their girlfriend that they’re in love.

“you feel what?” your tone is gentle, but prodding, clearly wanting an answer. maybe that means you really do want her to say it. she doesn’t think you’d be this urgent about her answer if part of you didn’t want to know it.

that fact urges her on, and she sucks in a sharp breath, trying to keep her voice steady. “I feel–”

“lee, honey? I’m going to sleep.”

lee turns to her mom, who lingers by the entrance to the kitchen. “okay, mom. goodnight.”

when the creaks along the staircase dim in noise, you say, “lee?”

she gulps down. it’s good timing, she reminds herself. you’re asking her with all the honesty and openness you expect from her in return. she can do it.

after two more heavy breaths, she spills it out. “I love you.” it’s just a murmur, barely there, but she does it.

it feels almost relieving until several seconds pass, and you say absolutely nothing.

lee tries to stay patient, she really does, but the seconds morph into a minute that feels like eternity, and her patient snaps, stomach turning too fast for her to handle. “is everything okay?”

“yeah, why? I called after you. I thought you were still talking to your mom.”

“I-I was before,” she confirms, trailing off, eyebrows drawn in. “but, then, she went upstairs. did you not hear what I said?”

“‘I love you’? yeah, weren’t you… saying that to her?”

lee blinks at the phone, completely silent. she doesn’t want to lie, and even if she did, she’d most likely be terrible at it. and so, she stands there, completely still, hoping you understand her meaning without any coaxing on her end.

“oh,” you whisper. “oh. oh, my god.”

you haven’t returned the sentiment back to lee. that’s the one thing all her thoughts are honed in on, and before you can worry over not returning it, she adds, “you don’t have to say it back if you–”

“are you kidding me?” you guffaw. “not say it back? how can I not say it back? of course, of course I feel the same way.”

lee freezes, her jaw clenching. she feels struck into place, the realization of her returned feelings bolting at her so abruptly she nearly wants to hang up the phone and take a few seconds to process it. you feel the same way. you love her back. it feels unreal, too hopeful, too lucky. of all things lee had expected at the start of the year, finding someone who loves her back was the last of it.

“oh, okay.” she huffs a sigh as soon as the words slip out. she’s not even close to an expert on romance, nor how one ought to conduct themselves in the throes of it, but she’s certain that that’s not the right response to someone heavily hinting that they love you. “I– sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“no, no, it’s okay,” you say, sounding rather out of breath. “nerves. I get it.”

“yeah.” she rasps her fingers on her thighs, suddenly antsy in this singular position within her kitchen. she wants to go outside and take a walk. but, if she does, she’ll have to hang up. and that seems like the most unwanted thing she could do in this situation.

after another beat of silence, she screws her eyes shut, the shock beginning to morph into a deep plummet of doubt at your lack of confession. “I– really, it’s okay if you don’t want to say it. I–”

“no, no!” you cut in, your voice so squeaky in protest that lee winces, moving her ear back. “no, I’m sorry, I-I was just surprised. I love you too, of course I do, lee.”

lee nearly splutters at the way the words burst from your mouth, so fast that it’s barely detached from the string of the rest of your words. “I– okay. wait, sorry, I– yeah. I love you too.” the words have her stomach turning, the feeling akin to anxiety, but a bit more pleasant, almost as though there’s something eagerly floating through her, sending each nerve tickling in a kind of happiness.

happiness. that’s what she feels now that some of the confusion is cleared away, the clouds of it removed from the situation. it’s light and overwhelming, and floods her entire body in something sweet and intangible. you love her back. you actually love her. the concept feels like a revelation, some holy occasion beyond the bounds of reality, gifted upon her and only her. as though she’s been the one individual selected for this gift. the words themselves make her feel overwhelmed, too, as though they bear too heavy for someone as mortal as her. she leans her elbows on the plane of the counter, dipping her forehead against her palm.

“I know, babe, you just said that,” you say, your voice beautiful with the way laughter wraps around the words.

“I know,” she grunts, running her hand over her face. “well, I know now. I’m just– just shut up.”

“awe, is that a whine I hear?”

“no,” she snickers, embarrassment curling through her, hot and heavy. “you confused me before, alright?”

“hey, you’re the one who didn’t confirm her mom went upstairs!”

“well, because I thought the minute long silence was enough of an indicator that conversation with my mom had ended. most people are usually able to gauge that.”

“ugh!” you scoff. “is that how you talk to the person you’re in love with?”

jesus, how embarrassing – you’re surely going to spend weeks now holding that over her head. “if they’re not making sense, yes.”

“well, they don’t have to make sense, right? you should know – after all, love doesn’t make sense, but you just declared that you love me.”

your mocking words have her slightly humiliated, yes, but they also arouse a jolt of pride and possessiveness through her. you know she loves you, and she knows you love her. just another thing to share between yourselves, privately reserved for your exchanged words and touches. and while your satisfaction will most likely result in a ceaseless amount of jokes that she’s the center of, she can’t help but feel a warmth from the way you’re lavishing under the confession. she’s glad to have given you that ego stroke, that dose of love and surety.

and so, she lets you go on with your jokes and when you ask, she says it again. “I love you.”

and your voice gets soft, in that way that sends her stirring as though she’s been half-awake her entire life until that moment, and you say, “I love you too, sweet girl. you’re the sweetest, you know?”

and sure, it makes her hot in her face and shift on the stool she drags to the counter later on so that she can talk to you comfortably. but, it makes her smile to hear you giddily laugh and whine, and it makes her feel afloat when you return the words. shell-shocked, sometimes. but, most of all, adored, so adored that she nearly shies away from saying it again.

but, still, she says it. she wants you to know. she wants to tell you these things.

----

some notes about your guys' life together:

when lee returns and you show her the photos you've printed, the first thing she does is hang them up in her bedroom, filling the space of her blank walls (the gesture and sight makes you cry, and she holds you for the rest of the night)

lee introduces you to her mom at graduation, and you take pictures of them together that ruth takes back to oregon

months later, lee tells her mom about you two. it's fast, to-the-point, and blurted out the morning of her departure to come back home to you. her mom acknowledges it, quietly, then continues to eat. weeks pass of neither of them mentioning it until lee one day says on the phone, as firmly as she can muster, "this is someone in my life. I don't want you to ignore them, please." after that call, they don't speak until ruth calls her one day. when she asks, "and how is your... friend?" lee actually smiles. it takes two months for ruth to call you her girlfriend, and when she does, lee practically beams.

sometime in the future, lee does discover how much her mom did come to question her faith while still using it as a shield. but, ruth says, it was meant to protect them from others, not from each other

things go long-distance when lee attends the academy in virginia, and when she sees you and ruth in the crowd during her ceremony, she wells up

you guys do, in fact, move into a cottage together (one that lee ensures has lots of windows), and you keep the small christmas tree from the apartment up there year-long

out of habit, you guys still page, then eventually, text, each other your first apartment's number to signal you've arrived home

after some coaxing, you convince lee to adopt two kittens with you, who she grows immensely attached to (one light brown one that's always jumping on her and playfully scratching her awake, and a grey one, solitary and quiet, who silently sits on her desk while she works)

lee, one day, wraps her arms around from behind as you make coffee and mumbles, "thanks for moving in with me." you laugh at first, but the noise fades when she adds, "the apartment, I mean," which incites a wave of gratitude to roll through you, the two of you meeting for a soft kiss. she has no idea how glad you are of it, too

you guys continue to be curious about each other

regarding lee and ruth's backstory: i didn't really want to include the supernatural elements of Longlegs in this story, so instead, i leaned into the theories and maika's alluding of the film being a metaphor about trauma. so, just like in the film, a stranger visited ruth and lee's home the day before lee's ninth birthday, and the trauma of that day is what led to the changes in ruth, such as her hoarding habit. what exactly occurred on this day is vague and up to interpretation -- both because of the film's vagueness in what the harkers' trauma is meant to be if the film really is a metaphor, as well as lee's lack of memories for for that day. it's up to you to decide whether it was kobble or visited them, or someone else. and lee does not remember the night both due to ruth's secrecy and her own suppressed memories, which is meant to tie into the elements of suppression and family secrets within the harkers' story in the film.

A/N: so, that is it for does it happen in a season? 😭 now, that it's done, I'd absolutely love to hear what you all thought of the final product, whether it be in the comments or through an ask. I always adore hearing what you guys think about this story, whether it be about a specific chap or the work in general, so I'd truly appreciate any thoughts now that's done, and would be so incredibly touched to hear about what it meant to anyone and everyone who read it :") i worked really hard on it, and hearing your guys' thoughts would feel like such a gift (it can be as long as you want I'm truly open to anything and want to know soooo bad) <33

ofc, I wanna thank all my mutuals and followers who always diligently liked, reblogged and commented -- like, it always made me feel so encouraged and uplifted, and really pushed me to continue in the best way possible, since I felt, like, "okay, there are people who look forward to this story and want to see more of it." like, you guys truly gave me so much comfort and confidence about writing this story, and whenever I posted, I was always so eager to hear your guys' thoughts and see you in my notifs. it just made this entire story feel so communal, if that makes sense? like, this story just felt like a work so seeped with community, support and friendship, both because of the encouragement of others, as well as the amount of people who helped me, like my girlfriend, @threenounname, and dear friends, @mignonettesauce and @sillysillyparty, when it came to making decisions about the plot or just needing reassurance about if certain things made sense. (like, my gf literally put SO much work into helping me with this story, he was constantly reading snippets and pieces of it and letting me drag him into long ass conversations about if this or that was accurate to the story or to lee). same with my other friends who aren't on tumblr, who were so supportive and advised me on how to approach certain things, as well as gave me so much encouragement and lovely words about the snippets I showed them, which boosted my motivation so much. so, yeah, this entire work felt so comforting and safe to return to, and was completely surrounded by such lovely people who gave me constant replenishments of motivation to continue, and I'm so grateful for all of you :") here's to all of us finding and having both people and places who makes us feel totally at home <3

#does it happen in a season?#s.writing #lee harker x reader #lee harker fanfiction #lee harker #longlegs #longlegs fanfiction #longlegs 2024

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theradicalace · 1 year ago

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(not so) fun fact: a screen replacement for this phone is gonna run me almost 300 dollars :]

#ace rambles #i honestly wouldn't even be tripping over that if it weren't for the fact that i STILL CAN'T GET THROUGH TO MY BANK!!!#it doesn't seem to matter what day or what time of day i call i cannot get through to a person #their robot says ''let me get you to someone who can help'' and then i sit in silence until i give up #i just want to replace my lost card so i can do. literally anything #lowkey think my old wallet might be at the malls lost and found or smth bc it's actually kind of weird that there #hasn't been any weird transactions?#phone screen saga

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beeseverywhen · 2 years ago

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I mean like. Not to bring the mood down but... you guys know that's because American media is everywhere right? Like the world is unable to avoid some version of American accent on a regular basis. Of course ppl find it easy to mimic. This is absolutely not restricted to ppl in the UK, its really common for ppl who learn English as a foreign language to have perfect 'American actor' accents (cause the reason everyone's so good at the American accent that's expected of them as actors is cause at large there's little distinction between regions in the 'Hollywood accent' that ends up on TV and films and stuff. You guys have massive regional differences in pronounceation, but what makes it on to TV (in 9/10 cases) is a very standardised version of American English.)

But yeah. It's not just actors lol. Most British ppl can speak in a passable american accent, as can loads and loads of people worldwide. I'm not saying this to be like 'you should feel guilty! 😡' but it does always stun me when Americans are unaware of the impact their country has worldwide on all versions of English (and even on use of native languages. Many countries are using English more and more over their native languages and dialects , and yeah, historical colonialism has had an impact there.)

But in the last few decades things have progressed way way faster and that, is thanks to the impact of anglo/american/ect lead capitalism. I'm in no way dismissing the impact the UK has on this, but in recent years, its the US that is largely pushing that train .While the UK and several English speaking commonwealth countries are very involved in this kind of capitalist imperialism, there's a reason that more and more people are speaking American English. Not one of the many UK dialects, not Australian English, or NZ English. Across the world more and more people are increasingly speaking in the same standardised american dialect that's in so much of the media you export. Hollywood based media, with that standardised accent/ dialect and the standardised 'normal american life', has a stranglehold on the world and I just find it crazy that a lot of you guys don't even know.

It's stupid stuff like. So many countries are importing american cars and are widening their roads/ changing town planning to account for it (this is less of a thing in the UK but I see it more and more when I travel). Its the food becoming avaliable everywhere. Its the influence that for profit healthcare has even on countries with socialised health systems. Its houses being built to account for American style appliances. Fashion trends. Worldwide, everything is slowly evolving to be closer and closer to this 'American standard' which honestly? I really don't think actually represents the lives of real American people either. You've been turned in to products, the system has taken an unrealistic snapshot of 'American life' and it's being sold to you all day in day out, but it's also being sold to the rest of us. It's being pushed on us all.

Kids in the UK go through phases of talking only in American accents. Anyone born later than the 90s is carrying round 2 sets of spelling and vocab, cause we're all so used to the American way, that you barely know which one you're using half of the time. In the UK we have always had really strong regional accents yeah, and dialects differ between areas that seem tiny to you guys, I know. But like. Those dialects are being lost cause all UK accents are evolving to become closer to this standardised american and yeah not great, but at least we share a language! US American society is largely rooted in the same foundations as UK society, largely we have the same flaws! But oh my god. What about the rest of the world.

It's global. This impact continues to be seen, steamrollering ahead, in places that had completely different starting points. UK culture isn't that dissimilar to that of the US, so we aren't losing nearly as much as cultures that had something completely different. So much is being lost.

Languages and dialects and everything else is just being wallpapered over so we all meet the same ideal of the 'American life' and it's not even real! It's just a product based on how ppl were actually living in the US, manipulated until it's the most marketable mould. You guys are victims of it as well but like. It's based on your culture so you don't lose as much if you conform to it. Just like how in the UK, if we conform, we lose more than US, but nowhere near as much as countries that had languages, dialects and cultures that were so so different to UK/US culture. The less like the US, your starting point, the more there is to lose.

And look. I said it to start with. I'm not having a go. That's not what this is. But you guys really need to be aware, you need to make an effort to understand the impact that this plastic Hollywood american culture is having on the rest of the world. You need to actively look for it, and make an effort to not pay in to it. Because when Americans see other cultures represented in media and say its not relatable, when you guys go on holiday and make no effort to learn local customs, and try and pay in dollars and spend your time abroad like you're still in America, when you see cultural differences and immediately argue that the American way is better and of course everyone should have giant cars and never dry laundry outdoors and live in American style homes, without any kind of critical thought. Just 'this is how we do it so why wouldn't everyone else do it this way. This is the only way. The American way is obviously best.' When you guys do that you are individually feeding in to this absolute bulldozing of cultures (including American ones!) to allow for better marketability.

It isn't any one individual American citizens fault that things are the way they are, and you guys are victims of the same system, but you need to have some self awareness when it comes to the fact that as individuals you are unknowingly, helping driving this forwards and as individuals, there are things you can do to limit your personal impact (and no arguing that you have no culture is not it!!! Being all self deprecating doesn't do shit. Take some responsibility and accept that individual Americans didn't create this system, but currently, individual Americans really are doing their bit to keep promoting it, to keep pushing it on the rest of the world.

And I've already rambled for an age so I'll stop here but I just want to make clear as an ending note here, that this really isn't about piling on Americans and being all 'boo it's all America's fault. They should apologise. Their culture isn't worth anything.' Not at all this is the opposite of that. The fact that millions of Americans have been convinced you have no culture, all while a mimicry of American culture is plastered on to the rest of the world, and while you as individuals are encouraged to help that happen, often without even realising what you're doing; is a crime. You've been wronged, as have we all.

And America is not the problem. The problem is imperialism and it didn't start with you guys. It started in Europe, and Europeans, particularly British ppl, have a responsibility to push back and be self aware, take some fucking responsibility and not inadvertently keep feeding in to that system, just as you guys do. The US didn't start the fire, imperialist capitalism is a fire that started burning long before the United States was even considered, but its on all of us, to do what we can to not feed that fire. And right now? You guys are the face of it.

This idea of what America is, is the face of imperialistic capitalism, and that means that even if you don't mean to, you guys are feeding that fire more so than the rest of us. You're responsible for spreading it, more so than the rest of us. And if you don't step up and take responsibility, accept that you're gonna get it wrong sometimes and you need to try to do better; if we don't all do that. There will be nothing left. They'll paper over it all, the lives of real Americans just as much as those in Scotland and India and the Netherlands, and 100 other cultures, that are at risk, thanks to this fire, that's currently, largely coming from America.

So yeah. It's absolutely not just on you guys and ppl who act like there's no racism or wealth divide in Europe or anywhere else for that matter are complete idiots, however, this Americanisation of the world (and I hesitate to call it that. Because its not a representation of real American lives. Its simply wearing an American face.) Its real. It's happening.

And we don't tell you about it to make you feel guilty (those of us who aren't dicks at least) ,we are telling you. We are kicking up a fuss. Because it isn't fair. It's not right and while individual Americans ignore that and refuse to take responsibility where they can (small apples. We aren't asking for you to call a violent revolution in our names. Just take some time to learn about the rest of the world. Stop assuming America is always right and examine your biases. When you find them. Stop personally pushing them.) , while that is happening, as individuals, you are contributing to this. It's not even altruism. This system is hurting Americans too. It's hurting us all. All we ask is that you do what you can to not personally contribute, and keep an open mind, be aware. That's all any of us can do.

when a british actor does an american accent everyone’s like “i didn’t even know they were british until they were on colbert.” but when americans do a british accent everyone’s like “they’re supposed to be from east cocksford but their glottal e’s are north dicksford. shameful.”

#so yeah sorry to rant but honestly #I'm so tired of ppl refusing to take responsibility on every side of this #imperalistic cruel capitalist regimes going 'well hey. at least we aren't America. this is their fault.'#meanwhile. Americans contribute to the bulldozing of their own cultures to make room for a capitalist monster wearing them as a mask #and if you call out any Americans or make them aware of something they are doing individually that isn't helping. it's either #refusing to see/ accept their own bias. or just as bad! yes! just as bad!!! america is beyond help. there's nothing worth saving #nothing we can do. that's bullshit and making stupid excuses like 'oh our schools don't teach us to respect other cultures'#'we don't know how.' fucking learn! try! that's all anyone asks of you. nobody cares about your schooling. school is shit for working class #ppl in most countries!#you think the english curriculum is any more balanced? we're subjects of a colonial empire. it's propaganda and its not even competent!#i don't think the average American understands how many more hours of schooling they get vs a lot of places. I'm not saying it's right #but teaching time? you guys have longer school days and you stay in school till youre older. our national curriculum ends the year we turn #16 in the UK. year 11 finishes in June. you can leave school 2 months shy of 16 to get a supermarket job. (and many working class ppl do)#and our government still pat themselves on the back and say its eqv. to high school finishing at 18 in other countries. like for context.#i haven't had a geography lesson since i was 13. my last english lesson? i was 15. that's completely normal here. so yeah. the #'our schooling was shit so we can't use Google to learn a bit of geography' falls pretty fucking flat. sorry.#they should have done better by you but they didn't. join the queue. do what you can and take some fucking responsibility now #the only way out of this is for us all. American and otherwise. to do what we can. be self aware. try to be better. keep learning #because if you fall to apathy? capitalism wins. if you believe the propaganda? capitalism wins. if capitalism wins we all lose #the system is designed to wear you down so you're too tired to remember that it doesn't have to be this way.#that's been happening for decades and it's why things are such a mess now. the only way out. is remember there is a way out #climb towards it. do what you can. it seems like low hanging fruit. it doesn't look like enough to change anything.#but there are more ppl being hurt by this system than those benefiting. 99% of us. if everyone picks an apple. that's a lot!#that's a fucking lot! keep going even when it seems like you aren't making progress. make your voice heard. vote. don't passively support a #system that's on its way to destroying you. destroying us all. do what you've got to do to live. but don't forget that all the things that #seem like they don't matter? really really do matter once you add up everyone's contributions. you can't control other ppls actions only #your own. but your contribution matters. your vote matters. your voice matters. join the union. educate yourself. stay curious. question.#the informations out there go online learning 1 thing. challenging 1 bias is better than all or nothing. i dont have time to learn anything #small apples. low hanging fruit. the oceans made up of billions of drops. the longer you don't try. the longer you've no chance of success #we can do better. we can absolutely all do better.

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skrunksthatwunk · 9 months ago

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playing dmc1 with my earbuds in (but on low volume bc they're being weird) while my roommate and her shitty bf argue. i feel like i'm recreating the very specific experience of some child of divorce out there

#how do i tell her she needs to break up with him immediately. posthaste.fuck it funny post over rant incoming tw emotional abuse i think #nyarla dni #(<- roomie and nyarla have met and i don't wanna air roomie's drama to ppl who know her w/o her consent. anon internet ppl only)#listen i'm normally for gentle advising and that's probably what i'll do since i don't want to stress her out but oh my fucking god what is #his problem. he's constantly putting her in these weird no-win situations where the only right answer is to never be upset or disagree or b #wrong on accident or be misunderstood by him and to tell him everything she's feeling so she's not 'playing mind games' but if she says wha #she's feeling he'll interrogate her and badger her with the same questions over and over again insisting she's unreasonable until she gives #in and says she's sorry with an attitude he likes. i fucking don't like him. and a lot of this is observations from today. the day after sh #GOT INTO A CAR ACCIDENT AND BROKE HER NECK. WHAT THE FUCK.#it's like he expects to be treated like a king on one of the worst days of her life and when she's upset he's like OH. OH I GET IT.#and lectures her on having attitude and taking things out on others when she's literally not even doing that. not to an extent that matters #anyway. like. there's more productive ways of dealing with that. where you don't treat them like a bad kid for getting overwhelmed #he has made her cry multiple times today. i have been around multiple arguments and fights and he's just genuinely. awful i hate him #hell the first argument i overheard *i* was in tears by the end (luckily they left soon after bc i had to run to the basement laundry #dungeon to bawl my eyes out because 1. i can't handle confrontation 2. i've never seen roomie cry and 3. she just seemed so hurt and tired)#anyway he just left again after a fight because. god this is so dumb. she told him to move while they were sleeping in the same twin bed #(remember she's in a neck brace) and he fucking. left the room for an HOUR bc he thought the only thing that could POSSIBLY mean (as he #insisted) was for him to get out of here and then when she was like oh hey i'm sorry i didn't mean it like that he decided to spend the nex #half hour of his short time on this earth chewing her out for not giving him a lengthy explanation while half-asleep as to like. why he #needed to move (she wanted to grab smth) and apparently he sat in the chair by her bed for like 10 mins before leaving so he probably saw #her fall back asleep. and then he got pissy when after he left she didn't pick up her phone when he was calling her? even though he knew sh #was asleep?? she didn't even know he was gone. fucking. i need to get him away from my roomie YESTERDAY #look. miscommunication happens. i'm not saying he's an asshole for wanting things said clearly. i am pro-saying what you mean.#but if every time your gf tells you what she means you make it into a 30 minute lecture (no matter how small the slight and w/o examining i #you're actually right or not) she's not gonna wanna fucking tell you if she doesn't think it's worth the argument. especially if you never #let her rest until she concedes. apology isn't enough. clarification isn't enough. she has to say how wrong she was and beg and GOD. UGHHH #and he's always on about how she hurts his feelings. a gust of wind could hurt his feelings. he's constantly berating her manipulating her #and then he's like >:( see that hurt my feelings you can't hurt ppl's feelings. you're disrespectful. HE"S THE WORST I FUCKING HATE HIM #look sometimes adversity reveals the truth of a person and this just amplified his shittiness so much. mr OH i slept in a HOSPITAL and it #was so bad... you can't be in a bad mood bc i've been doing the bare minimum and you need to prioritize MY feelings rn. also i won't leave

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readwritealldayallnight · 2 months ago

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I would love a take on boyfriend Ghost coming home to surprise you, but he finds your bed empty and doesn't realize that you are in his room in his bed. Thanks.

The placebo effect, was what he kept trying to convince you it had to be, no matter how many times you rolled your eyes and told him he was wrong

How else could one explain your insistence that Simon’s bed smelled so much like him, becoming your safe space when he was away on long deployments, when he only ever slept with you in your bed most nights to begin with

Hard to believe it was nearly three years ago now that you’d told your friend since childhood, Johnny, about how your search for a new flat was going miserably. You remember how he’d perked up and recounted with a mischievous glint in his eye about how his Lieutenant was apparently searching for a flat mate at the moment, someone who’d be looking after the place while he was away for work

Unsure about living with a strange man you’d never met before, but trusting Johnny’s judgement (though the way he seemed just a bit too eager about this meeting did kind of throw you off-) you had reluctantly agreed to meet with him and at least give the flat a glance before you simply turned him down

It wasn’t until you were knocking at the door of the address Johnny had written down for you, that you’d realized he’d never even given you the man’s goddamn name, only ever referring to him at Lieutenant or LT

Johnny apparently also failed to mention the absolute SIZE of the guy, his huge frame blocking nearly all of the light from behind him as he had swung the door open and stood in the doorway before you

In a slight panic, thrown off by the massive man before you and the way the butterflies in your stomach suddenly began to flutter at the sight of him, you had greeted him for the first time with a squeaky, unsure voice saying ‘Um, hi, are you the Mr Lieutenant?’ (something he has never let you live down since)

He knew then and there that you would be the one

Not just his flatmate (though what a generous flatmate he was when he offered insisted on moving all your boxes out of your old place and into his that very same day), but the one, something he reluctantly had to give Soap credit for, seeing as he was the one who wouldn’t stop talking his ear off about you

You would be his other half, his better half

And all these years later, the two bedroom flat truly only acted as a one bedroom, considering that from the start Simon was always falling into your bed with you at the end of each night, limbs tangled together under the warmth of a lovers embrace a thousand times more comforting than an actual comforter

Still though, that first time Simon had to be gone for work longer than a few weeks, you found the lingering odor of him clinging to his bedsheets to be one of the few things keeping you sane in his absence, taking to sleeping in his room for the time being, imagining that the pillow you cling to your front was a strong muscular arm instead, littered in scars and tattoos you feel confident you could recognize from touch alone

And when his long awaited flight back home to you landed a few hours earlier than expected, tires touching down in the dark, stillness of late night hour, he decided he’d surprise you and come straight home, rather than calling you to meet him at the base like you’d insisted, not wanting to wake you

Barely able to contain himself, he decided the elevator ride up to the seventh floor would take too long, take away precious seconds that brought him closer to you, and so up the flight of stairs he went, taking them two or three at a time, rushing to see the face etched behind his eyelids every time he closed his eyes, to hear the voice that haunted his dreams each night

Quietly as a man his size could, he crept into the flat, snuck his way into your room, expecting to see your sweet, sleeping form cuddled up amongst the blankets and pillows. But his heart dropped when he noticed the bed was still perfectly made, not a thread out of place.

Trying to remain calm, though his mind was instantly swarming with every possible scenario that could have taken place, he knew he saw your shoes and jacket by the door, you couldn’t have gone far… but where were you?

He glanced into the living room, wondering if he missed you sleeping on the couch after a long day, he poked his head into the bathroom, even went so far as to check the small balcony, but finally there was only one door left to open.

And there you were, safe and sound, a tiny ball curled up into the center of his huge bed, clinging to one of his old masks and holding it close to your chest as though it were a security blanket (you’d been sleeping in his bed so much you needed something that still smelled strongly of him, you were getting desperate)

Stripping himself down to only his boxers, he tiptoed towards the side of the bed, his mind finally feeling more at peace than he ever had, gently pulling the sheets back just enough for him to slip in behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you into his muscular chest

Though it should be alarming to suddenly feel a pair of hands roaming over your skin, a body holding you firmly against their own, it’s as though your body knows who it is before your mind does

Any tension you were still holding onto during his absence instantly melts away, your own hands coming to land over top of his, giving a slight squeeze of acknowledgment, not yet willing to fully leave your half asleep state, but needing to touch him, to confirm he really is here

“Hmm,” You hum, voice groggy with sleep and a smile slowly stretching across your lips, snuggling further into his embrace. “You’re home.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, breathing you in, wishing he could bottle up the scent of your shampoo and lotions and perfumes, if only to have something to hold onto while he’s away, understanding now why he found you in this bed rather than your own

“I am.” He whispers into your hair, sensing that you’re already drifting back into dream land, safe in his arms and his bed, knowing he’ll be there when you wake. He feels his chest tighten when he knows that you weren’t talking about the fact that he’s physically home, in the flat, but something more, something much more, because he means the same thing when he tells you, “You’re my home too, love.”

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churipu · 11 months ago

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YOU SLEEPING ON A COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader

note. i hv so many ideas right now apart from what i'm actually supposed to be focusing on, so...pls excuse me.

GOJO SATORU. arguments with gojo are a pain in the ass, he's petty and everything will be a mess. he's so stubborn that it actually baffles you sometimes — and he calls you rock head?

being a sorcerer is never an easy job. gojo wakes up every day, not knowing whether he'd die in a mission or get to live another day. so when you brought up your concerns about it to him, the male didn't take it lightly. things have been tight for him, and you're walking on eggshells for the past few days.

the slightest thing angered him, like how his sleeve got stuck on the door handle, or the way he curses out loudly when he stubs his toe on the coffee table. it puts him in a shitty mood, so when that happens, and you try to talk to him about his job.

gojo gets very pissy about it.

frankly, you understood where his anger comes from. and it was part of your fault to bother him the moment he came back from work exhausted, it was bound to happen so you weren't really blaming him at all from the projecting of his anger to you the night before — he didn't say hurtful things, gojo knew better than that. all he did was tell you to leave him alone and get out of his sight for the night.

and you did. sleeping alone on the couch, all sprawled out, an arm dangling on the edge; while a string of drool dribbled down the corner of your lips.

you seemed to not mind having to sleep on the couch (under your own want). but your boyfriend did, the moment he knew your bed time strikes — he came out of the room and eyed your sleeping form. guilt washing over him when all you did was care about his being and how dangerous the jujutsu world is.

gojo approaches you and gently carried you in his arms, an arm right under your bottom and his other arm around your waist. hoisting you up like a baby as your cheek leaned onto his shoulder, letting the drool blotch his shirt. he doesn't care at all.

the male tucks you in the bed, pulling the covers over you before slipping next to you, chest pressed to your back and an arm resting on your hip. gojo will never let you sleep a whole night on the couch, he will bring you to sleep with him and apologize the very next day for being such an ass.

he also, tried to make it up to you by cooking a classic english breakfast. which ended up in chaos — and you both decided to order take out instead.

GETO SUGURU. geto is usually calm and collected; he doesn't really get angry at anything. even if he does, he mostly keeps it to himself unless it really bothers him. but since humans have certain capacities to their own emotion — geto is not spared from being angry, no matter how calm he is.

after the death of amanai, you could feel him change. your geto. it was traumatizing for him, and you understood. always being there for him, never leaving him alone. the dark circles under his eyes were apparent, and it looked like he hasn't had a good night sleep for what seemed like . . . weeks, or months, if that's even possible.

geto appreciated your company, really. but sometimes, he also wanted to be left alone to dwell on his feelings. he didn't want to end up saying hurtful things to you because he was so angry at himself. but he did, and god was it horrible.

he was already feeling like shit before the argument— which if you see, wasn't really an argument at all. it was one-sided, geto was telling you off and you didn't say anything back. because you knew he didn't mean it. he almost desperately begged for you to leave him alone because your presence was "annoying" him and he couldn't stand it.

although geto said it in a heap of moment. he didn't mean it, and before he could say anything else, you tell him that you were going to be sleeping on the couch, so if he needed anything he was free to come to you.

geto didn't stop you. he was busy hating on himself for telling you that — and believe me when i say that he, right there, almost cried out of frustration.

he tossed and turned on his bed. where you were usually on too, beside him, holding his hand whilst he sleep. your hushed voice lulling him into a peaceful slumber; but you weren't there today, all because he told you to leave him alone. geto sat up, his eyelids heavy, but no matter how long he shut is, they always open back up.

with slow and heavy steps, he approaches you on the couch. and geto had always knew that you were a light sleeper, so his footsteps awoken you. seeing your eyes flutter open, geto slid on the couch, laying himself on top of you — head on your chest, arms clutching onto your shirt like he's desperate for your presence, and his legs intertwining with yours.

getos' hushed apologies were heard as he leaned into your warmth, and you told him that you were never angry. brushing his hair, massaging his scalp using your fingertips before lulling him to sleep, and geto did. almost immediately. and so did you.

he could never sleep without you. whether it being on the bed, the couch, or anywhere else — as long has you were with him, he will find the ability to drift off.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. is an ass. let's face it — he wouldn't give a fuck if you decided to sleep on the couch after an argument, at least for the first couple of hours. toji is a blunt man, and he's a sole believer that nobody could bear sleeping on the couch when there's a bed in the house.

but you were there to prove him wrong.

after an argument going south, he finds you grabbing your pillow and then seeking shelter on the couch. and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, knowing you'd come crawling back on the mattress after a few hours — because who'd choose the couch over the bed?

you. apparently.

he slept without a single care, thinking of words to say when you finally decided to come back on the bed. but when he woke up at three am, his arm searching to find your body, but realizing all he was catching was air — he finally realized that you weren't coming back onto the bed.

and it annoyed him. he was angry that you weren't there. and at three am? he was already wide awake, walking out of the room angrily. but his gaze softened when he saw you asleep, the constant flashing light from the television panning on your body; toji walks over, snatches the remote and turns the device off.

letting out a soft sigh, toji squats down, flicking your forehead. and the action was enough to make you grimace lightly in your sleep — although not enough to wake you up completely. the male chuckled and prepped an arm under the hollow under your knees, and an arm across your shoulder.

with ease he brought you into your shared room and he laid you down on the bed, covering your body with the blanket before he slips into his own portion of the bed. scooting closer to you as you instinctively nuzzled into his chest, seeking for comfort.

toji wouldn't admit that he was the one who brought you into the bed and would end up saying how you came crawling back at three am. you always find out the truth though, and toji tells you to forget about whatever he did because he won't be doing it again (he will).

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saetoru · 1 year ago

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AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day two — overstimulation ; find masterlist here

synopsis. befriending nanako and mimiko has its perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but that doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

length. 5.3k words (bro this fic was agonizing)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, dilf! suguru, college au (reader is a student), age gaps (20+ difference), jealous suguru, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, angel)

notes. this took me so long bc i hate it so im posting it and running away to play genshin to slave away for primos

most people can tell their best friends everything. not you, though—you have a secret. a dirty, shameful, horrible little secret, in fact.

no one knows that every chance you get, every small little moment you can possibly squeeze in, you fuck your two best friends’ father—and it’s going to stay that way, unknown and forever hidden. suguru is young as far as parents go, just barely in his twenties when he’s found himself a single father of two, but that doesn’t mean he’s not too old for you. and it especially doesn’t mean that it’s not inappropriate to fuck the man that raised your two closest friends.

you meet nanako and mimiko during your freshman year of college—the rest is history. the first time you spend the night at their place, suguru (he insists you call him that on your first meeting) is overjoyed that his girls have someone as lovely as you.

who wouldn’t be? you’re smart, well-mannered, respectable, and incredibly studious. what a perfect role model for his girls—after all, every father’s worst nightmare is his sweet, precious daughters venturing off to the real world. men are dogs—suguru should know. they’re sleazy and prey on young women who are naive and unsuspecting, taking advantage of their hopefulness before completely destroying their innocence. suguru can’t bear the idea of his perfect little girls becoming victims of such sinister behavior—but that’s all quelled when he meets you.

but he never thought, not even for one second, that he’d become one of those men.

those older men who fuck girls half their age—the girls that are barely in their twenties and still don’t even really understand how taxes work. the girls that have just started to learn how to hold their alcohol and can only recently buy it legally. the girls who don’t realize how complicated adulthood can be, just barely spreading their wings and learning what it’s like to be free.

suguru has always found those men deplorable. they’re the awful, disgusting, untamed vermin of society—women must be protected from them at all costs.

but now? well….now he’s one of them—and he finds, even as disgusted with himself as he is from time to time, he has little regrets.

not when you’re sprawled under him, hands tracing over his bare chest, feeling the soft skin under your palms in wonder. suguru, though he’s not let himself go by any means, is past his prime—he still frequents the gym, and he has more time to go now that the girls are gone most of the day, but he’s not immune to the effects of aging.

his hair has more than a few strands of white sprinkled in now; nanako makes sure to remind him not to pull them out unless he wants more. he’s still managed to keep the abs he was once so proud of in his youth, but they’re still not as hard—layered over a slight belly that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he tries. his skin is a bit looser, and his eyes have slight wrinkles in the corners of them, but despite it all, suguru still looks as handsome as ever.

he’s aged well, still looks remarkably young for men his age, and still looks like that dashing young man he once was who stole hearts. in fact, he still hears about his looks, especially from nanako and mimiko’s friends—he’s always chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement.

that’s your dad? god, he’s so hot.

what? he’s single? oh my gosh, do you need a mom?

i can’t believe he’s never been married—women in his generation don’t deserve him. i’ll take him off their hands.

wait, do you have pictures of him when he was younger?

oh my god, he’s so fine. are you sure he’s in his forties?

nanako and mimiko, bless their hearts, have always crinkled their noses at the…less than proper comments they’ve had to witness about their father. in fact, they’ve watched teachers practically throw themselves onto suguru at parent-teacher conferences. it’s bothersome—a little disturbing to hear their friends talk about all the things they’d let their dad, of all people, do to them.

but you? you don’t make unhinged comments. they appreciate that.

but if only they knew…

if only they knew that sometimes, like right now, when you’re spending the night, you don’t actually sleep—instead, you sneak off to their father’s room, lay on his mattress under his body, and feel his touch. you can feel him, hard and throbbing in his sweats as his clothed cock presses against your thigh—but he takes his time with you, and doesn’t do anything about the clear arousal pooling between your legs just yet.

instead, he focuses on remembering your body—it’s been a while, after all. he hasn’t felt your hips, hasn’t tasted your skin, hasn’t heard your voice.

“missed you,” suguru breathes, hovering over you as you hum, nipping at your skin as his nose brushes along your neck. your hand is playing with his hair, twisting long, black and white strands along your fingers. “haven’t seen you in a bit, angel.”

“i’ve had midterms,” you murmur.

suguru knows—nanako and mimiko have been studying for them themselves. he’s more than a little disappointed that you haven’t come over to study with them yet. but then, just the other night, mimiko mentions you’ve been spending your time with a boy at the library, sharing a table as you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop. nanako giggles that you might have finally gotten yourself a boyfriend. mimiko hums and nods as she murmurs it’s about time.

suguru swallows down every bite of dinner with an aftertaste of bile that night.

a boy—a boy? you’ve been skipping coming over to study with the girls (and, by default, seeing him) just to study with some boy? what’s got your attention on the guy so badly? why would you break the routine you’ve had for the last few semesters for someone you just recently met? have you finally started to realize that this is a mistake? is suguru a mistake?

he thinks maybe not, now that you’re back in his bed—but he still has too many unanswered questions.

“so i’ve heard,” he says lowly, “i’ve also heard there’s a certain boy on your radar.” he smiles bitterly, pulling away from your neck to stare at you with those dark, sharp eyes of his. “a much younger, and fitting match for you, i suppose.”

you roll your eyes, snorting.

“is that what nanako and mimiko have told you? honestly, those two,” you huff fondly, “i told them already. he’s just my partner for a presentation. we’re practicing.”

“oh?” suguru raises a brow—and then he shivers lightly when you lean up and kiss his jaw, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“yes,” you giggle, “no need to be jealous of someone half your age, you know.”

“that’s exactly why i’m jealous,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you softly.

your lips taste like honey—probably sweeter, in fact. they drip with that decadent, saccharine taste of youth. he feels twenty again every time he kisses you, feels not a day older than his glory days.

“oh, you poor thing,” you grin, cupping his face as you scatter kisses along his cheeks and nose, thumb tracing the skin. fuck, is this what it feels like to be in love? it makes him feel so young, so free, and hopeful for the future. when was the last time he felt this way? “have you been losing sleep over my nonexistent college boyfriend?”

“well, kids your age fool around quite a bit,” he says in that father tone that he uses on nanako and mimiko, “what was i supposed to think?”

you’ve heard that tone so many times before; the one where he talks like he knows better, like he’s wiser, like he’s aware of something you’re not.

girls, make sure you share your location with me—i need to find you in case anything happens. it’s for your own safety, end of discussion.

make sure you watch over your drinks, okay? men these days take every chance they get to spike them when you’re not looking. mimiko, i was your age once, too. i’ve seen this happen plenty.

don’t walk alone in the streets at night. call me. i’ll pick you up—no, nanako, it’s not lame. the streets are dangerous at night. there are creeps, you know.

don’t get into any boy’s cars, girls. you never know what’ll happen; one mistake is all it takes to ruin your life—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. one day, you’ll understand i’m right.

“i’m not a kid,” you pout, and then, smugly this time, you wiggle your brows. “did’ya lose sleep over my imaginary boyfriend? you need plenty of sleep at your age, y’know.”

“no, you’re not a kid,” suguru agrees, “you’re a brat.” and then he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed, hungry kisses along your jaw, humming in delight when you angle your head to give him better access.

sometimes, it’s fun to get under suguru’s skin—it’s fun to break that carefully built, mature patience of his, pulling a twitch of his eye and a furrow of his brow from him. so, you grin widely as you murmur, “who knows? maybe he’d fuck better—more stamina, y’know?”

it’s supposed to just tease him, to make him glare at you unimpressed so you can giggle and kiss between his brows—but suguru stills at that, painfully stiff for a moment before he bites at your skin. hard.

“oh yeah?” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls away to glare down at you, “you think so? what, you think an old man like me can’t fuck you long enough?”

you don’t get a chance to reply—not before he pulls your pants down your waist to reveal your soaked panties, pulling a hum from him as he grins at the damp patch of fabric. his fingers circle over your clit for a moment, right over the cloth, making your breath hitch as you buck into his touch.

“suguru—”

“look at that,” he chuckles, “wearing my favorite one, huh? can’t fuck you that bad if you try your best to impress me. isn’t that what you wanted? is that what you were thinking when you put these on before coming over? how precious,” he murmurs—he speaks so condescending, so knowingly, as if he’s read your mind just by looking at the red lace covering your dripping cunt. you cover your face in humiliation, but he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head, clicking his teeth in disapproval.

part of you knows you should quit while you can—the other part? well…it wants to test the limits a bit longer. suguru has never been so easy to rile up, you want to indulge in it for just a bit longer if you can help it.

“well,” you huff, “what’re you waiting for, then? don’t tell me the age has slowed you down—”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says in a low snarl, “fine, you want me to hurry up? you got it, princess.”

it all happens before you can even register—one moment, you’re grinning at him with mischief in your eyes; the next second, he has you in nothing but your bra, bare in his bed as he pulls your legs apart and leans close to your pussy.

“you know the thing about guys your age,” he hums, toying with your clit lazily as you gasp with a twitch, “is that they really don’t know how to take care of anyone but themselves. guess they just don’t have enough experience to really figure it out.”

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking before he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud as his fingers sink into your core, pushing past your folds and stretching you open. it’s slow—deliberately so, in fact. it makes your head spin, and your fingers curl into the bed sheets as you pant.

“suguru, m-more—”

“don’t worry,” he coos, pulling away from you to grin up at your glossy eyes, “you’ll get plenty, baby. we’ll see if you’ve got the stamina. y’know, since you’re so young.”

his lips are back to wrap around your clit, fingers sinking and curling exactly where you’re most sensitive—suguru finds your sweet spots instantly the first time he has you sprawled under him. didn’t even take a moment of trial, just knew where to touch and kiss to have you unravel in his hold. that much still hasn’t changed—his fingertips press against the sensitive spot in the back of your walls, pulling pretty little whines from you as his tongue flicks over your clit.

it’s always been a blessing that nanako and mimiko’s room is across the house—had they been closer, they might hear the mewl you let out as his fingers bully into you faster, unforgiving as they brush against your walls and build the ache up between your legs until it’s about to burst.

“s-suguru, ‘m close, so, so close—”

“already?” he gasps, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your clit with a sly grin, “thought you had more in you than that, baby. so youthful—figured you’d last a bit longer.”

he’s mean about it—rubs it in your face some more that you’re so close so fast before he pulls his fingers away and doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of falling apart on his digits. it makes you sob, hips bucking up to chase the friction of his fingers, but he’s already gone, leaving your walls empty and fluttering around nothing.

“no,” your voice breaks, “n-no, so close, please. i want—”

“that’s what he would’ve done,” suguru hums, “pulled out before you even finished. that’s what guys your age always do—they don’t know how to make girls finish. you ever had that problem with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. you’re a pretty little thing, he thinks—pouty, wobbly lips and those glossy eyes as you sniffle. “no, you always make me cum—please, i wanna cum, sugu.”

“yeah?” he pouts with faux sympathy, “didn’t feel good, huh? feels better when i take care of you, doesn’t it?”

“uh huh,” you nod—you’re still panting through the aftershocks of having your orgasm ripped from you, chest rising and falling harsh enough that it fills him with pride he can pull such drastic reactions from you. no one knows your body like suguru—he’s too good at giving it what it wants for anyone else to compare.

“think that boy—” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue, “—can take care of you?”

“no,” you whimper, “no, he can’t. not like you, never like you.”

“that’s a good girl,” he nods approvingly, rubbing his slick-coated finger over your clit, toying with it teasingly as you writhe, whining for more. “you know something else about men your age? they don’t care to please a woman—don’t bother to appreciate them enough to make them feel good. you think that boy would be here—” he pauses to motion between your legs, where he’s currently situated, “—willingly? taste you willingly? let you cum on his tongue willingly?”

“i-i don’t…i never asked someone to—”

“did you ever ask me?” he interrupts, raising a brow at you, “you ever have to ask me? i just do it. wanna know why? because i know what i’m doing—know how to treat you right, how to give you what you need. isn’t that right?”

“yes, yes—you always give me what i want—”

“what you need,” he corrects, “and you know what i think you need right now? this.”

his tongue licks a stripe along your entrances before you can say anything else, pulling a gasp out of you as your hands find his hair and tug—suguru groans at that, feels his pants get impossibly tighter as the aching erection he sports throbs between his legs at the way you pull at the strands so desperately, so needy. for him. only ever him.

his tongue fucks into you, messy with the way he devours you, the slick arousal pooling from your cunt coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin. you moan—and really, it’s almost a squeal—when his fingers are sinking back into you, tongue flicking away at your clit mercilessly as he thrusts his digits in and out of your pussy. you’re close, painfully so, the pressure steadily building and building until you just can’t hold it back anymore.

“sugu—’m c-cumming. god ‘s so good—feels good,” you babble, thighs closing around his head as his fingers curl into your sweet spot over and over again, not stopping for even a second as he helps you ride out your high. your walls spasm around his fingers, tight as they flutter around him and make him groan at the thought of being inside you.

he watches, hungry and in awe, as your back arches off the mattress and your mouth parts, broken little wails of his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet melody.

“i bet he’s never seen someone look like this,” suguru murmurs, watching the way the ecstasy takes over your features as your face falls slack from pleasure, “so pretty when falling apart. bet he’d never even get close to making you look so fucked from just his tongue.”

your orgasm ripples through you—it’s not new, the way he makes you feel so good, but it’s definitely nothing to get used to either. your body slumps back onto the mattress as you finish, panting harshly while he climbs up to hover over you once again.

“that felt good?” he asks, nosing at your cheek as you nod breathlessly.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“hope you’re not tired out just yet,” he says smugly, eyeing the way sweat clings to your forehead and huffs of air exhale from your lungs with each labored breath, “because we’re nowhere near done, baby. not even close.”

just like that, your bra is unclasped and pulled off, freeing your tits for his mouth to latch onto a nipple, sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along the bud while his fingers tease at the other, pinching and rubbing over it with his thumb. you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hand cups the back of his head and keeps him in place.

“bet i could make you cum just from this,” he says with a laugh, “i don’t even need to fuck you.”

“please,” you dig your nails into his shoulder, moaning as he switches to wrap his lips around the other nipple, “please, sugu—n-need more.”

“be more specific,” he says lowly, looking up at you in amusement, “gonna need more than that, princess. you gotta help me out here—i’m afraid i don’t know what i’m doing.”

suguru is doing everything he can to drag this out—if you’d known one small comment would have him riled up like this…well, truthfully, you can’t say you wouldn’t have made it anyway. it’s exciting in its own right when he’s so determined to show you why you need him, why no one else but him is meant to see you like this, make you fall apart like this, have you sprawled under them like this.

no one can know about you and suguru—not nanako and mimiko, not your other friends, not your family. you know what they’d say, how they’d feel.

disgust—shame, even. he’s far too old for you, you know they’d say; he’s a red flag for getting with someone so young. no one can know that you come here, dead in the middle of the night when your friends are asleep, and fuck their father. not only that—lay with their father, talk about your hopes and dreams for the future with their father, giggle as you gossip with their father, fall in love with their father.

something tells you the feeling is not unreciprocated—that suguru feels the same, that he loves holding you in his arms just as much as you love laying in them. maybe it wasn’t a joke, what you’d said. not to him, at least—maybe deep down, it stung; maybe he had something to prove. that boy might be closer to you in age, but he’ll never, ever treat you the way suguru does—no one will, for that matter. perhaps he has to show it so you really know.

so you look him in the eye, pull him closer until his forehead is pressed against yours and you can press a delicate kiss to his lips before you murmur against them, “fuck me, suguru. please—need you.”

he groans at that, closes his eyes before his hips move to press the thick tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it along your entrance as he coats his head with your slick. it’s flushed a deep pink—it’s been neglected for so long that he shudders at the way it aches, at the way even the slightest friction along the sensitive tip pulls a soft gasp from him.

for a moment, he wonders if he really will last long enough to fuck you properly—he might not, with the way your walls always squeeze around him, always have him ready to fuck his load into you just as soon as he’s inside you. the thought alone almost makes his cock twitch—but suguru is a man of patience, so he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch, looking down and watching as his girth disappears inside you.

“look at that,” he coos, grinning wide as he looks back up at you, “took me so easily. ‘s cause when you do it right, it doesn’t take much, does it?”

“f-fuck—” your head presses back against the pillow, mouth hung open as you breathe heavily, trying to squirm and get even the slightest bit of friction from him as he stays painfully still. “move, suguru—please, c-can’t wait anymore. jus’ wanna feel you.”

“i know,” he chuckles, “patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

despite it all, suguru is not feeling very patient anymore—it’s been long enough. his hips roll slowly at first, a shallow thrust of his hips that makes you both moan lowly before he all but pulls out and slams back in, hard. you can feel the burning stretch of his girth practically splitting you open, every thick vein dragging along your cunt and every brush of his tip against the back of your walls. it’s loud—the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of his deep groans and your breathless whines, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as he fucks you into his mattress.

“god—fuck, suguru—th-there,” you mewl as he slams into you right where you need him.

you’ve lost count of how many times suguru has fucked you like you’re his. in his bed at night, in his shower in the mornings, on the couch when you drop by when the girls aren’t home, in his car that one time he drove you home when it rained, in your apartment that one time he dropped off your laptop because you forgot it. there’s one common denominator—the way he makes you feel, not just from the way his cock ruts into you, but from the way his fingers tangle with yours, from the way his mouth finds your jaw to kiss, from the way his forehead presses into your shoulder with warmth.

it’s exciting, maybe. at first, it’s scandalous and a little thrilling in its own right. by now, it’s something much more than that—you don’t think anyone could make you feel the way he does, fuck you like he does, even if they tried. even if they knew where to touch and where to kiss. even if they knew what you liked and what you didn’t.

they couldn’t be suguru—would never be suguru.

“there, huh?” he pants, moaning softly as he feels your walls flutter around him tightly, “i know. i know how to fuck this pussy—my pussy. you think some boy you hardly know would know? think he’d care to learn? think he’d even try?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head as your hips buck up to meet his sharp thrusts, “no. no one would make me feel this good. make me feel so good, sugu.”

“ngh—sh-shit,” he hisses at your words, cock almost swelling harder at the way you praise him, at the way your words are almost slurred with no real thought behind him. it’s a little pride-inducing, the way you’re still able to sing his praises without having to really think about it first. he can hear it, the way you’re lost in the drag of his cock, drunk in the haze of pleasure, unfocused on everything else besides the way he bullies his thick girth into your abused cunt.

it’s a mess, it’s filthy the way there’s a mix of pre cum and your slick at the base of his cock, along your inner thighs, coating your skin as the squelching sound of him nudging past your folds fills the room.

it’s good, the way he makes you feel—he can hear it in your voice as you wail his name.

“s-suguru—oh.”

“what, you gettin’ all fucked out on me? ‘m not even close yet, princess,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck as he sucks softly into your sweet spot. you throw your head back, rasping out a cry of his name again as his balls slap against your ass with a harsh roll of his hips.

and then his hand makes its way between your bodies, thumb attaching itself to your clit before rubbing punishing circles into the bundle of nerves—you sob at that, back arching up as your chest presses against his, nipples hard as they brush along his skin.

“s-sugu—close, ‘m gonna cum a-again—so close,” you pant brokenly, every sentence cut off with a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you.

you’re close—you can’t fight back the way the coil in your belly snaps as he teases your clit. it’s still sensitive from the last orgasm, every nerve still burning up from before as he gives you more, gives you too much, almost. you cum harder this time—your second high creeping up on you when you least expect it.

it makes your eyes roll back, makes your thighs quiver, and tears stream down your cheeks as you chant his name over and over. suguru, ‘s so good. suguru, ‘m cumming. suguru, ‘s all for you.

every sentence makes his cock drill into you faster, sloppier in rhythm, maybe, but faster. needier. bordering on desperate.

“f-fuck, baby,” he grunts, “squeezin’ me so tight—such a tight fuckin’ cunt. you think just anyone deserves this? think you can just walk around and let anyone fuck this? ‘s bullshit—ngh.”

you don’t answer—can’t answer, in fact. it’s all teary eyes and soft sniffles as you mewl with every thrust, voice breaking between every pretty little sound you make. he’s still fucking into you, still dragging his cock against those sensitive walls, still bumping against your clit with his navel, still nudging against your sweet spot with his thick, swollen tip. it’s almost too much—it is too much, making you writhe under his body as you try to form the words.

“‘s t-too much, sugu—c-can’t anymore,” you try, “can’t.”

“what?” he gasps, furrowing his brows in mock confusion, “you’re tappin’ out on me already? but ‘m not even done yet, sweetheart. haven’t even finished yet—don’t tell me you’re already spent. how will you keep up with your little boyfriend’s stamina if you can’t even take an old man like me?”

“c-can’t take anyone but you,” you sob, “jus’ you—only you. promise.”

“yeah? you swear?”

“uh huh. jus’ you, sugu—don’ want anyone else. won’t fuck me the same.”

“atta girl,” he coos, chuckling as he leans down to kiss your jaw, trailing soft pecks until he meets your lips, “that’s what i thought. make sure you don’t forget, okay?”

“fuck, suguru—’m…g-gonna…”

“gonna what? cum? you’re cumming again?” you nod at that—he grins wide, pride settling into the crinkles of his eyes before his thumb rubs harsh circles into your swollen clit once more. he looks pretty like that—hair framing his face, the mix of black and white strands sticking to the damp skin of his forehead. his skin is flushed, abs flexing as he pants over you. sometimes you feel guilty that half of why you come over to visit nanako and mimiko is to fuck suguru—the guilt is quickly extinguished when you see him like this, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his arms barely hold him over you, eyes shut tight as he groans.

“i-i’m—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can’t form sentences anymore as you cum—again. not that you really could before that, but now all you can offer is croaked half-syllables and shaky sobs. your walls squeeze around him, tight as they hug around his throbbing cock.

it takes one, two, three more sloppy rolls of his hips before he lets out at a low, “baby, fuck—’m gonna fill you up. want that? want me to cum in you? make you mine? always been mine, haven’t you?”

“yes, yes—yours, sugu. yours, yours, yours,” you babble, words slurred between breathy moans and broken sobs. “wanna be yours.”

you can feel him—feel the way his cock twitches in you, the way he grinds into you to ride out his high, the way sticky, hot ropes of cum fill your walls, the way he fucks his load deeper into you with every sloppy thrust of his hips. his arms quiver as he holds himself over you—just barely, though. you can hear the way his voice cracks as he gasps your name over and over, as he mutters lowly about how you’re his, how you’ll always only be his.

“mine,” he grits, “you’re fuckin’ mine—see how you’re suckin’ me in? see how i fit in this pussy like it was made for me? ‘s cause you’re mine.”

his body slumps onto yours as he finishes, head pressed into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin while you both catch your breaths. you whimper, still sensitive, as he pulls out of you, a soft chuckle falling past his lips as he pulls his head up to look at you and press a kiss to your cheek.

“so,” he starts, eyes laced with amusement as he takes in the fucked out look on your face, the tears still drying your cheeks, the swollen flush of your bottom lip, “still think you need someone with more stamina? someone who’ll fuck you better—”

“god,” you groan, slapping his shoulder, “will you drop it already? you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“no,” he murmurs, pecking your lips, “still wanna hear it some more.”

“your ego needs a reality check,” you huff as you brush a strand of hair from his forehead, “think i’ve fed it plenty all night.”

“actually, i think you crushed it,” he pouts theatrically, “talking about some asshole who doesn’t care about you right in front of me. after i take such good care of you, too. the girls already think you should date him,” he adds the last part with a slightly bitter roll of his eyes, pulling a giggle out of you.

“they think i don’t know how to talk to men,” you snort, “imagine they knew i was talking to men old enough to be my father.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, falling onto the mattress beside you—he pulls you into his chest, letting your cheek rest on his bare skin. it’s so wrong—lying in bed with the father of your best friends. but somehow, suguru feels like the only thing you’ve ever done right. “age is nothing but a number, sweetheart.”

if i have to see the word cock one more time im going to eradicate all humans that have them

do not comment about a part 2 !!!!!!!!!!

#🎃 — kinkteeber !!#teepods.writings #fics.#thirstee!#geto x reader #geto smut #geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

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