#frenzy! sans | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teeskz · 26 days

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Freak: “You never been with no one as nasty as me.”

:･ﾟ✧ second part to ¡Arriba! and continuation of T!TS UP ✧*: *:･ﾟ-

» pairing: fem!reader x OT5 (kim hongjoong, jeong yunho, choi san, song mingi, jung wooyoung)

» summary: what happens when you wake up the next morning in a dorm that’s not your own? and what happened the night before?

check out pt.1 here!

» w.c: 7.7k

» genres & warnings: college au, corruption kink, degradation yet praise, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (BAD, DON’T DO IT), humping, major tit play, fingering, cunnilingus, mentions of spit, needy!ateez, handjob, mouthfucking blowjob, tit job, anal (i had to), dirty talk, teasing, reader opposes the idea but quickly gets on board, brief mention of professor!seonghwa, multi.stimulants, evil.

*disclaimer: reader is fed pills for a headache, but takes them unknowingly. do not consume anything if you are not aware of its origins*

» a/n: someone had referred to the boys as ‘evil’ and i RAN with that. yeah, they’re pretty mean- well kinda, but it makes things interesting. also, it only took me 18 days to upload 💪

enjoy!

» taglist: @mingyuslice @facioleeknow @sharksandminhos @yakosobaboba @xcynthiaaxox @hyukssunflower @tiny-apocalypse @pearltinyy @therealcuppicake @kxrta @hrts4hanniehae @softwsan @certifiedmoa @writtersthings @mingisprincess @strayskz143 @isabel-018

if your name is crossed, i couldn’t find you 🫶

Your eyes crack open, the new incoming light from above blinding you, and slowly you begin to grow more conscientious. Instantly, you draw notice to your position on the hard floor, back to the ground, head tilted, and arms bent near your face.

For some reason, there's a slight pounding in your head, one that you're not quite familiar with and it genuinely makes you uncomfortable. The thumping grows as you start to wriggle your head around while you wish for it stop. And just as quickly as you had opened your eyes, you’re immediately closing them.

Wha....what happened last night?

Feeling your chest heave up and down, you try to recall the events of the previous night. You remembered getting a late breakfast/early lunch with your roommate, stopping by the library to check out a book, tidying up the room, then spending the rest of the evening catching up on homework.

But, then I got hungry.

Right, and so you’d went to the vending machine on the west side of the hall, where you ran into….Kim Hongjoong. He took you back to…to someone’s dorm and you hung out with his friends.

Then what after that?

“Look at her…” A voice murmurs and it breaks your thoughts. He’s close to your feet, you could tell, and immediately you’re on alert. Had you fallen asleep in the friend’s dorm?

“I’m still not over it, how can someone’s tits be so perfect? I mean, look at ‘em.” Another nearly groans which unexpectedly sends your stomach into a frenzy. Initially you hadn’t realized, but now you do register the cool breeze you’re feeling, sweeping across your bare breasts.

What the hell? Am I…shirtless?

“Who cleaned her stomach?” There’s a bit of muttering off in a distance before whoever said that speaks up again, “Well shit, and I kinda wanted to see Y/N with dried up cum on her this morning.”

“San, you’re so fucking nasty.” Someone chastises which causes a ripple of laughter throughout the room. You almost think they’d continue their conversation when suddenly, you feel a body crouch down next to you and begin lightly tapping at your cheeks.

“Ah, Y/N-ie, wake up for us,” You do as he instructs, you fluttering your eyes open again, only to see a grinning Wooyoung staring back. He holds a cup of water in one hand and the other as a closed fist, “Getting drunk like that without taking precautions, how can you be so irresponsible?”

You scrunch your nose, “What?”

You’re ready to pout, to rebut against his words, but he beats you to the punch by telling you to open your mouth, which you do, and he drops a few pills on your tongue, “It’s Tylenol. Hopefully this’ll stop the headache soon.”

You relax a bit after that, accepting the water as you lean forward. Downing a few gulps, you wait until the pills disappear down your throat then go to speak to him, “How’d you know I have a headache?”

“Everyone gets one their first time drinking.” Hongjoong, the perpetrator, the reason why you’re even here, walks up to you from the other side and also lowers himself so he’s level with you, “I’ll give you props though, you handle your liquor pretty well. Didn’t even throw up on Woo’s carpet once.”

He also has a cup in his hand, filled to the middle with bluish-greenish liquid, and mindlessly you thank him but it’s evident you’re fixated by the mysterious drink, “What’s that?”

Hongjoong peeks into the cup, acting as if he himself hadn’t known what the substance was, but then quickly he’s shoving it in your face with a smile and requesting you to take it, “Mouthwash. We can’t let you leave here with bad breath.”

You allow him to put the plastic to your lips and tilt the cup, dispensing the mouthwash. Your cheeks grow with the slightly burning liquid, you swishing and gurgling it all around before respiting it back into the cup.

After washing out your mouth, you finally sit up on your elbows and sweep a gaze across the room and who’s all in it. Yunho’s standing directly in front of you with his back to the window, San being tangled up in the comforter on the bed, and Mingi resting on the ground in front of a dresser.

“What the actual fuck happened last night?” Mingi comments while staring straight ahead, almost in a daze, and soon memories from the night before flood your mind.

The stupid truths that were asked, the disgusting dares that were performed, and the absolutely most vile challenges to have been completed. All of it resurfaces to your head and you are left in complete and utter shock.

“We found out Y/N’s a real nasty one, likes it dirty.” San snickers, and you throw the harshest dagger eyes imaginable towards him. No one could have prepared you for the drastic turn last night took. From drinking alcohol for the first time to allowing yourself to unravel underneath these five men. So much had happened and you just let it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever tasted pussy as sweet as yours.” Wooyoung mumbles close to you and you hate how your stomach does another flip, “You covered my face sooo well with your lips, it’s almost like you were made for me.”

“Can’t stop staring at her tits.” Yunho blatantly states and not once has his attention been derived from your chest, part of him wishing for his face to be buried in them again.

“Fuck, and her mouth was a needy one, I remember that,” Mingi recalls with a chuckle, causing you to straighten your back with a beat-red face, “Thought she was gonna suck me dry last night.”

“How can you guys say these things? Aren’t you all embarrassed by what happened?” It hadn’t even crossed your mind to think of the repercussions your actions would have caused, leaving you with feelings of shamefulness and wrongness. But despite that, somehow everyone else feels indifferent.

Wooyoung merely laughs at you which makes you turn towards him bewilderedly, “Someone’s self-projecting right now.”

“Are you only asking this now because you feel bad about last night? About letting yourself get showered in cum?” Hongjoong mocks and you slowly cast your eyes downwards. Why do they have to have such a filthy mouth?

“To be fair, you could have declined everything, if you truly didn’t want it.” Yunho makes point, brining his shoulders up and slugging them down again.

“Yeah and who was the one that fucking came on herself after just some hickies?” Mingi thinks about your quaking body beneath him right after he sucked on your neck, nothing getting him more aroused than that moment.

“Just admit it,” Hongjoong drawls, dropping his eyes to take in your exposed body, “You liked every single part of last night, maybe a little too much than what you were hoping for, and that’s why you’re embarrassed. Come on, Y/N, you’re no different from the rest of us. You’re just as nasty.”

You don’t respond. You don’t look up. You force yourself to keep your eyes locked on the little, red box still on the carpet that’s been left untouched all throughout the night.

You’re disgusted by this, by it all. Disgusted by how forward they’re being. Disgusted by how they’re speaking to you. Disgusted by the fact that even through the ridicule, not once did you make an effort to put your tank top back on, and most of all, disgusted with yourself for squirming around to their hurtful words.

“No fucking way, look at her! She’s clenching her thighs right now.” Wooyoung throws a finger to your legs which have closed in on themselves and the rest of the boys hoot in amazement.

“And yet, we should be the ones embarrassed,” San goes to undo the blankets wrapped all around him, sitting up from his laying position and swinging his legs over, “You really are something else.”

Yunho pushes himself off of the wall, the black tank top he sports showcasing each flexing muscle with every step, slowly works his way closer to you, “You know, since we’re talking about it, I’m actually a little pissed at how last night went.”

He stops when he’s hardly an inch away and you verbally hear your breaths catching within your throat, “What are you saying?”

Mingi chimes in with a cold laugh, “Oh my- yeah, I know what you mean.”

While you bounce your eyes between the two of them, confusion plastered on your face , it’s San who deciphers their ominous code for you, “It’s cause they didn’t get to fuck you last night.”

Oh.

At the bluntness of his sentence, you can’t help but let out a soft mewl. Hongjoong dips his head closer to you, laughing, and decidedly adds on, “My god. These fuckers wouldn’t stop talking about how bad they wanted you while you were asleep. Granted, we all pretty much want the same thing, but holy shit. They went on rambles.”

“We could’ve stuffed you up just right too.” Mingi smirks and throws a glance over to you while you attempt to regain what little control was slowly slipping away. You can’t let yourself succumb to them, not again.

“Could’ve had you begging for our cocks like it’s your last meal.” Yunho meekly offers then shrugs his shoulders, feining as if he’d said nothing out of the ordinary.

You drop your mouth ready to scold him, all of them for their horrid words, when two hands begin to snake around your torso. With no hesitation, they grab a moundfull of your breasts which stops the forming sentence and leaves your lips parted open in complete surprise. You quickly look down at yourself being palmed and grabbed at.

“Wanted to feel these every moment of the night, but, that would’ve been weird, right?” Wooyoung quips as plays with your flesh, “Oh man, and you’re so damn soft too.”

The slight pain caused by his action jolts through you, you swiftly shutting your eyes and trying to hold back a whimper, “Wooyoung, please,” Your voice cracks when you plead, “What are- what are you doing?”

“You’re getting her nipples so fucking hard, look at them.” Yunho drops down to his knees and eyes your tits fully, “If I remember anything about last night, it’s how perfect you were when I sucked on these.”

At the end of the sentence, he brings a finger and thumb up to your nipples, flicking at your buds in a quick motion, and instinctively you yelp.

“Oh my god, Y/N. You see how we just lose control when you’re around?” Hongjoong scoots his body closer towards the action, bringing a hand up to your stomach and rubbing aimlessly around the area, “You make us act this way.”

You want to refute that and say, ‘how could I possibly be responsible for this?’ but it’s like the words disappear in your throat when he slides a few fingers near the top of your underwear. He’s grazing the padded area, stroking it.

You nearly forget your initial protest and almost allow yourself to come undone at their touch, and it only gets worse when you hear the bed creak and a body stalking its way towards you. When he gets behind you, you sense the being is much closer than you expected, and the next words to spill are essentially onto your neck.

“If you could get off to just some hickies, I’m so curious to see what else can bring you over like that.” San finishes with a grin that he presses against your skin, then going in for tiny kisses.

“You guys- h-hey.” You almost jump at the hand placement on you leg now, Mingi slowly working his way up your naked shin, past your knee, and halting at your thigh. He’s purposely holding himself back from going all the way.

“Say the word, and we’ll stop.” Wooyoung coos in your ear, the groping on your breasts getting significantly harder and at this point, he’s made room for Yunho’s hands to pinch and pull at you as well.

“We promise, we’ll do it if you want us too, but then…” Hongjoong lolls his head further into your vision which steals your attention away from everything else, “You’d need to stop fucking yourself on my hand if that’s the case.”

“Huh?” You quickly dart your eyes down towards your pelvis and as Hongjoong’s fingers lay idly on your clit, it was in fact you who had been sourcing your stimulation, your hips ever-so leisurely rocking, and digging onto his hand. And you hadn’t even known.

“Fu-uck,” Yunho tilts his face up, enveloping himself in the feeling of your squishy body directly in his hands, “Wanna fuck your tits so damn bad, please. Please, I need your tits around me right now.”

“I could see the outline of your cunt all last night, just staring right at my face,” Mingi kneads at your thigh, and he doesn’t know what came over him, truly he doesn’t. All he knows was that your thigh just looked eatable, with him swooping his face down to drag his tongue in a long, jagged pattern across your skin to your underwear line, “It’s like you were begging me to fuck you.”

“Need your mouth again on my cock, Y/N. You’re lucky I didn’t cum in your damn mouth when I had the chance.” San remarks, leaving mini-bites along your throat.

You hear their begs, their pleas, their desires. Never before have seen such a lustful group, one so open for their wants, for you on top of that. It’s hard to ignore them. Pretend as if their requests aren’t propelling you forward to buck faster onto Hongjoong. So, damn hard. And just like that, all previous attempts at holding yourself back have now cleared your mind. You crumble.

“Are you finally giving in to us?” Hongjoong stares you down, the originally limp hand he had on your underwear now steadily sinking into your pussy, “Well all have so much we want from you, would be waste if they couldn’t be fulfilled.”

The motion makes you flinch as a deadly groan leaves you, your eyes squinting shut and you’re forced to grab onto Wooyoung for support, “Ah-! ah-! Yes, yes, please. You can do whatever you want.”

“Hear that guys? Y/N-ie’s giving us permission to fucking destroy her.” Wooyoung cackles out while his teeth bites down on your shoulder and you cry aloud once more. What? Your skin’s absolutely beautiful, he wanted to see if it tasted as good.

Mingi lets himself up off of you, his face covered in his own saliva from slurping all over your leg, and it’s like a newfound desire pops into his head, “Shit, someone make her lay down. Just wanna do something really quick before we ruin her.”

All at once, the hands and mouths that were on you retract and soon you feel yourself being pushed down flat onto the floor, you recalling a similar situation from last night. Immediately, they get rid of your panties, yanking them off of you, before he’s bending your knees back. Right at the perfect angle to where your cunt’s spread wide enough for everyone to see.

Your scatter your eyes to the few bodies towering over you, “Mingi-”

“You think she’ll cum if I just stick my fingers in her?” He borderline muses, licking his lips at the sight of your pretty, thick cunt.

Wooyoung’s hands are back on to you as he’s fondling one of your tits again, then goes down till he’s level with you on the floor, “I dunno, you should try it out, though.”

Mingi huffs a sigh out, almost too entranced by you to continue, but then he watches as your pussy contracts and releases, almost in desperation for something and that breaks him, “Keep her still, I don’t want her squirming around.”

It’s San and Hongjoong who grab at your knees to hold you down, restraining you as Mingi settles between your legs, eye to eye with your clit. If he were to dart out his tongue, he’s sure he’d graze a little bit of your skin. And so that’s exactly what he does, sticks his tongue out to give you a slight lick directly into your lips, which quickly causes you to twitch.

“Y/N’s gonna get filled with Mingi’s fingers,” Another body taunts, Yunho, who’s dropping down to the other side of your chest and essentially mimics Wooyoung’s pose, “You’re about to get filled with his fat fingers while we fuck up these things.”

Referring to your breasts, the two men jump on you as if they’re starved, the only way to get full again is from you. They both kiss at your supple skin, then try to stuff however much of your flesh they could in their face. With mouths full, they use their tongues to wiggle around, coating a large portion of you in their spit.

“Gah!” You have to bite your lip from screaming even louder, as the men on your legs resort to using only one arm to keep you down, the other going in to touch you places.

“You just move at everything, don’t you?” Hongjoong smiles, noting how hard you’re trying to keep yourself from fidgeting underneath them. He’s back to rubbing near the top of your clit, while San on their other hand is nearly fluttering his eyes open and close, him leisurely starting to grind his hard bulge on to the back of your thigh.

“That’s-” A particular bite from Wooyoung makes you wheeze before coming back to your senses, “That’s not fair.”

You’re just about to fall apart at the seems from having almost every part of you stimulated, never having been so turned on before in your life, it’s bound to leave you wanting to wiggle around.

Mingi throws in another harsh slide of his tongue which would’ve shut you up immediately had you not finished talking already. He laps a bit more at your cunt, and even momentarily would bury himself between your pussy lips just for the feel of it, before he’d even begin to finger you. The moment he brought his hands, you were practically game over.

“Uh oh, someone’s about to hit their climax early,” Hongjoong sees how despite your hips remaining relatively still, your stomach’s sucking in and out rapidly, you breathing worsening by the second.

“Should we let her?” Mingi asks as he comes up for a second, watching the scene unfold before his very eyes of you basically going crazy.

Yunho, who’s been occupied with suctioning on your tit, finally detaches himself, leaning his head right below your boob, “But that’s kind of unfair. Remember, she got herself off last night without any of us helping.”

The other two on your cunt hums at that fact, Mingi narrowing his eyes to further examine you before doing the despicable act. No warning, no preparation at all, he shoves his two fingers into your entrance and a gutter-like groan escapes your lips, almost feeling like punishment for last night.

The motion didn’t make you cum, not like how they thought, and the guys were happy about that while you, oh the only thing you wanted to do was lay on your back and spaz out an orgasm. But, they weren’t going to let you. No, if you wanted to cum, it would need to be with everyone.

After pounding his fingers in a few more times, the squelching sound of your pussy cutting through the air combined with your heavy panting, Mingi unplunges his hand and inspects the wetness dripping off of him.

He twists his fingers around, taking in your arousal then opens his mouth to suck off your liquid. The taste of you shoots down to his already hard dick and he almost lets out a moan himself, “Mmm, do you know what you taste like?”

You couldn’t even look at him, whining out a ‘no’ as you go to shake your head. It’s hard to concentrate when the rest of the guys still haven’t let up on you.

“Oh, well here.” You try to glance down and get an image of what he means when all you see are fingers fly at your face before he puts his own wet digits inside your mouth. Your eyes roll back as you immediately choke on them, coughing against his fingers.

It buzzes against his skin which only fuels his erection further, and now he deems it’s time, “Yeah, I’m ready to fuck her.” Then he rips his fingers out of you.

San has to physically pry himself off, pre-cum seeping past his shorts and leaving your thigh a drenched mess, “No one take her mouth, I want it.”

“I bet your assholes so tight,” Hongjoong’s cock almost creams at the thought of your constricting hole around him while he removes his fingers from your clit, “Y/N, are you gonna let me fuck your ass?”

Yunho bites his lips at the red and purple art that has became your breasts, “All I know is I’m gonna cum right here.” He points to your sternum as the destination, indicating he’s wanting to rub himself in between your two mounds.

Wooyoung pops his mouth off of your bruised nipple, hazy eyes and all as he stares at your beat face, “Y/N-ie, I just know you’ll jerk me off so good. Have me shooting out sperm into your hand.”

Their words almost made you finish right then and there.

They all want you, and they want you bad, so much so that they’re willing to break your body for satisfaction. It’s almost fascinating.

“You okay with this, Y/N?” Hongjoong asks one final time, because once they get started, he isn’t sure any of them will be able to stop, “You’ll be fine with us wrecking you?”

You slowly drop your eyes to him, the friendly face that you had seen at the vending machines last night, and the face you saw when he was orgasming all over your face. You pan over to Yunho and Mingi, both who made your History lecture a lot more entertaining, and yet had the absolute desire to fuck you raw.

Wooyoung stares at you with his ever playful expression, one you remember seeing in high school, and also when he went down on you a night ago. Then there’s San, your motivator, always pushing you when it came to your shared major, and ultimately who wants you to swallow his seed as you take his cock whole.

Making note of each and every person, you breathe out a relaxed sigh before resting your head back onto the carpet and shutting your eyes, your own lust pulsing throughout your body, “Yes, I want you..” just saying it out loud is enough to make your pussy clench, “I want you guys to wreck me. I need you guys to.”

The boys exchange looks with one another and it’s clear what’s racing through their heads. That you’re done for. And so, without another word, they lunge onto you.

Hongjoong flops his back down next to you on the ground as he simultaneously shimmies out of his pants to better pull his cock out. Mingi and Yunho have a grip on your forearms and it seems they’re giving the older time to get himself ready.

Once he’s fully out, he throws a signal to the others, “Alright, help her on top.”

On his command, they lift you up and to the side, you now hovering directly above Hongjoong. You’re facing away from the action, almost oblivious to the madness ensuing behind you.

“Fuck- I…should we put her down slowly?” Yunho asks and was that a…sliver of concern you heard?

Hongjoong brings his chin down and gets a face full of your ass. You’re so close to his cock. He could buck his hips forward and penetrate you like that, but even he isn’t that sadistic, “Ah..hold on.”

You wonder what’s taking so long. Is he starting to reconsider? Granted, he was one of the reasons why-

“Oh shit!” Your butt immediately squeezes against the 3 wet fingers lodged into your ass.

“Just needa get her prepped really quick,” Hongjoong moves his fingers in and out of your hole, bringing on a sensation you’ve never felt before. You’re verbally whining at his movements while the others take in your groans.

Pumping just a few more times, he finally pulls his fingers out, “Okay, okay she should be good now.”

“Go slow.” San adds as the two begin lowering you down onto Hongjoong’s awaiting cock, so plump and tall, and ready to take you. At the initial touch of his head, you do sharp inhale.

“It’s alright, you can take me.” Hongjoong supplies as he brings his hands to your hips, helping you down, “You’re doing so good.”

You feel yourself spreading wider the more his cock fills you, and by goodness have you never felt this way before. You’re shutting your eyes completely shut and pressing your lips together. You try to remember the pain of having sex for the first time and this feels similar.

“Almost there, just hold out for me.” Hongjoong calls out to you while eyeing himself, watching as his dick disappears into your ass, and if he were a worse guy, he might’ve started driving his hips into you right away. But, he’s not, and so he allows you time to adjust on his stiff self.

San regards your tense expression, then peers over Hongjoong who appears to be controlling himself, “How’s it feel?”

“Like I’m gonna cum in her any second now.” He gasps then releases his head down to the ground, “Y/N, let me know when you’re ready.”

You give yourself a bit more time, causally squirming and wriggling against the foreign sensation. Getting on seemed to be the hard part and so after mentally preparing yourself, you give Hongjoong a small glance over your shoulder, “O-Ok, I think I’m ready.”

At those words, Yunho and Mingi free their grip on you, backing up a little to watch this unfold. Hongjoong’s hands are still on your hips, anchoring you to him as he shifts around beneath. He wasn’t lying when he said to San he’s holding himself back, you really are making this difficult for him.

“You got this,” Hongjoong murmurs then right at that moment, he starts to hump himself into you, getting a feel for the friction of right now.

“Oh, look at her face.” Yunho beams as he sees your face contorting with a mix of different emotions. The pain is still there, but it feels with every thrust it’s gently fading away.

“Aww, Mingi’s about ready to fuck himself into you, can’t you tell?” Wooyoung teases which causes you to creek your eyes open to the tall boy who’s watching hard, a hand unhurriedly stroking his exposed dick. You aren’t even sure when he took off his pants.

“Mingi,” Your tone is breathy and you feel as if you’re glazed by him masturbating, “Are you ready?”

He simply walks over to you while you feel yourself being pushed back onto Hongjoong’s chest by Yunho, now laying flatly on top of him. Hongjoong’s breaths hit the nape of neck almost instantly. Your knees are split apart and from Mingi’s perspective, he can clearly see the Senior continuously pushing his cock in and out of your asshole.

He gathers between your legs, pushing your legs even father apart while watching out for Hongjoong’s thighs which are directly below him. Fuck, is it taking everything in him to not just give your clit a quick slap.

“You’re about to have both of your holes filled,” Mingi works his eyes up to your chest and how floppy your tits are bouncing, “I should be asking if you’re ready.”

“Mmm, just go.” You could hardly get that out in one breath with Hongjoong gradually picking up his pace. You produce more grunts the faster he goes, but at the feeling of Mingi slipping his tip into your entrance, it makes you borderline shriek.

“Holy fuck.” He sighs, registering that his cock’s coated right off the bat in your slickness, “Dunno if I can let you cum first, you feel so good.”

He holds back another moan as he pushes himself all the way in, and it feels almost cynical to say that you think you notice some of your liquid dripping out of your cunt and down to your ass, wetting Hongjoong’s working cock.

“Am I good? Can I get on top of her now?” Yunho’s eagerness is ever apparent, any mild concern he had for you long gone. He saw the way your confused face beforehand has now morphed into one expression. And by the looks of it, you’re in paradise.

“Hurry up.” Mingi shudders when your pussy gives him a quick squeeze, and he begins a rocking motion inside of you.

Yunho wastes not another second in straddling your chest, swinging a leg over your torso and propping himself right underneath your tits. His pants have been long-gone, discarded in the other pile of bottoms and underwears left by the others.

“Been waiting too long for this,” he breaths out, his hands going straight to your breasts like magnetics. Despite his large body on top of you, Yunho keeps a conscious of not completely crushing you with his weight, and only slightly hovers above.

His dick lays perfectly in the middle of your cleavage, and he clutches your soft flesh within his palms, pushing and pulling at you. He aligns himself till the base of his cock is with your tits, then even he starts to thrust mildly in between you, squishing your sensitive breasts against his rocking hard-on.

“Look, you’re letting yourself get fucked in three different positions right now.” Wooyoung draws notice to this fact with a large grin on his face, him leisurely stroking his cock in one hand. He can’t help but stare in amazement at your priceless expressions, you babbling incoherent sentences while your eyes go white. You look fucked out.

“My turn. You’ve been acting so well for everyone else, I’m hoping you’ll do the same for me.” San utters as he dips down onto his knees. His own pants and underwear, along with the others, are off, and he aimlessly pleasures himself.

Opening your eyes, you roll your head to the side and see the head of San’s cock staring right at your face. It feels almost as if it’s begging for entrance into your mouth, and you couldn’t wait any longer. You timidly widen your lips, big enough to fit at least the tip into your mouth and he dives himself straight into it.

“Oh-!” You warm mouth feels even better than he remembered, you covering his erection so well his eyes are wavering open and shut. He pushes himself deeper into your mouth and stretches you to no length possible, as you basically allow him to slowly start fucking your face.

“You’re so damn tight,” Hongjoong’s speed over the course has increased significantly, now at a rhythm where he isn’t concerned about hurting you. The pain has faded at this point, and to hear his jagged breaths struggle while bucking into your ass makes you whimper.

“Mm! Mm! Mm!” Any moan that’s wanting to escape you is muffled by San’s cock, him quietly murmuring to himself of how delicious your whines feel when he gets to absorb them.

You almost start to grow limp as your arms fall. Surely, you’ve submitted to them long ago, but now, having nearly every part of your body packed and used is making you stupid. You can’t think anymore. You can’t even speak. Only the timely pumps by them all is enough to keep you mentally here.

Your left hand rests against the ground, palm facing up, and you believe you’re safe to keep it there, a part of you that’s still left unoccupied, but when bulky skin comes down onto your palm, rubbing against the grain, you knew that wouldn’t be the case. Even though you couldn’t see, your head being turned the other way for San, it only made sense who it is.

“Y/N-ie, don’t forget about me.” You could hear the pout in Wooyoung, whining a bit more, though he’s already stroking himself faster into your hand. With each move, he’s leaving behind trails of wetness, lubing up his cock for when you instinctively wrap your fingers around him.

You begin to jack him off the best you could with what little strength you have, every so often you being forced to stop when Mingi would hit you at a certain angle. Yet, it’s apparent Wooyoung doesn’t necessarily care about you getting him off, but rather having your hand as a fuck toy for over time he starts to develop his own pace within your grasp. Now even he gets to fuck you like a play thing, all of them are.

Yunho’s hips are faster now, his hands working hard to grab and circle your breasts while he continues to drives his cock in between them. He’s never felt arousal like this before, your tits mushing his whole dick in a manner that sends jolts of pleasure through his tip and straight to his ballsack.

Mingi’s pounding into your needy cunt, him watching you swallow his dick whole every time he humps into you, “Feel- so- fuc…fucking- amazing.” The collection of spit he’s built up over the course is threatening to spill out, and so gathering a large amount, he pushes it all to the front, sending his saliva directly onto your clit.

It’s a power move. Showing that he can just as easily spit on you as he can fuck you into oblivion. And even if you wanted to be disgusted by this, you’re still the one rocking your own pelvis against both him and Hongjoong, whom’s mouth is practically on your inner shoulder.

He’s mumbling incoherent things, you thinking you could hear a repetition of ‘shit’ a countless number of times, all gradually getting higher. You nearly wail when he sinks his teeth into your skin from behind, biting the crease between where your shoulder and neck meet. It was amove to stop him from whining too loud.

“Mmm, fuck, I think I’m close…” San says out loud to the group, and even you could tell a while ago he was trying to hold back. His hips have decreased significantly in speed, and is only giving a thrust every other second. Despite this, your mouth still gurgles around him in a way that pleases him. Though he tried to postpone his orgasm, you just make it so damn difficult.

Wooyoung’s bucks into your hand have also turned from the consistent movement to a more sporadic rhythm, and he starts to lose his senses. The more he focuses on your hand around him, just letting him fuck your palm, the more he felt he was gonna blow at any second, “You’re so…so fucking nasty for this…” He was trying to shame you for it all, but his tone is a dead-giveaway that you’re making him go insane.

“Y/N, fuck you and your perfect tits,” Yunho’s grunting on top of you as his lower body begins to stutter, “Been making me wanna…wanna cum all over you from the moment I saw you.”

“Her pussy’s so fucking possessive, keeps devouring my cock like it’s starved,” Mingi huffs out, finding that his once even pace has turned irregular. He’s holding onto your knees for support while trying his damn hardest to restrain himself for as long as possible, “Gonna- gonna finish all in you, Y/N.”

And you. You were beyond the point of breaking. You’ve felt your orgasm practically hitting from the moment Hongjoong stuck his cock inside of you, but you’re good. You listen. They tell not you not to cum until they do, and you oblige.

But now, you’re done holding back. Every part of your body is being used, filling you, fucking you like there’s no tomorrow. It’s a miracle you’re still alive. Now finally, it’s going to be all over.

You wiggle your hips desperately against Mingi, squeeze your hand so well for Wooyoung, let Yunho abuse your tits, and take San’s cock all the way to the back of your throat.

You’d think one of them would be the first to finish, but when Hongjoong relinquishes your skin, a throaty groan aiming straight into your ear, that’s when you feel a spurt of liquid shooting up into your asshole as he calls out, “Oh, fuck me!”

And that was enough for your own orgasm to come. Like a punch to your gut, both you and Hongjoong cum together, your legs quaking heavily as his sticky substance begins leaking out. Everyone could hear it, your attempt at a wail as your hips start to stutter, your walls clenching aggressively against Mingi’s cock which in turn causes him to pulsate.

Next thing you know, he’s ejaculating all into your cunt, holding himself down to where the only thing he can do is fill you up as you continue to shake beneath him, “Holy shit.” He groans in a strained voice.

Yunho blows his load the second he feels your body convulsing, his own mocking yours in the way his stomach thrashes while his warm, gooey nut leaves his tip and heads right for your chest. He manages to get some on your sternum, just like he said he wanted, but he finds he’d rather just cover your breasts. Ripping his cock away, he begins jerking himself throughout the rest of his orgasm, spilling out and all over your tits.

The feeling of their liquid makes your eyes vibrate, you buzzing another moan against San and he loses it. He’s releasing his ejaculation down your throat, keeping your head still as he’s dispensing more and more of himself inside of you, “You take me s-so good.”

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” The unsteady motion of Wooyoung’s thrusts is evident of that, the way cum is already start to permeate through his head and all over your hand, but quickly you feel more strings of it covering your palm. He’s still grinding his himself into your grip, an ungodly whimper falling from his lips.

You continue riding out your high, while in their own variations, they all do the same. Whether it’s grunting or whining, the combination of moans from them makes you aroused like no other. Eventually, the bucking of their hips slow, and you stop feeling additional liquid hitting your body, indicating that their moments are nearing the end.

You’re still producing after-shocks, even as they begin to detach themselves from you. Wooyoung pulls his somehow half-hard cock from your hand, Yunho standing up and removing his weight from your torso, but quickly falling over to the ground.

San’s too in love with how wonderful your mouth feels on him, but even he knows it’s time to give you a break. Both Mingi and Hongjoong separate themselves at the same time, with Mingi pulling out first and then Hongjoong, only after a pair of hands lift you up.

Your eyes are shut, and you hadn’t noticed before but drool’s dripping down the sides of your face, along with part of San’s cum, yet you didn’t care. You’re placed gently back onto the ground as a form of recovery for you to lay there which you do.

With no thoughts in your head, no worries present, you simply bask in the after effects of what had happened. Not even a feeling of guilt or embarrassment reside in you. Only a clear head and drips of cum sliding around your skin.

You almost start to doze off again, eyelids growing heavy and a deep sigh overtakes you, when a voice lets out a yawn, smacking their lips a bit before talking, “Oh wow, it’s already 11.”

You don’t respond immediately to that, your sleep consuming your brain but then you think. There’s no way it could be 11. You always did tutoring for the younger students at 10:30 or so on Sundays, and you’ve never been late to a session before.

But, if the time is truly right, then that means…

Just as quickly as you had shut your eyes, you’re flinging them back open, panic flooding throughout your whole body.

“Oh, god!”

✧

— Bonus —

Little, bookworm Y/N, studious as always, is the one you see in the front row of classes, meekly raising a hand to answer the umpteenth question with ever-lasting knowledge. Your teachers knew you as a such. Reliable, punctual, intelligent, just an absolute delight to have in class.

Never once have you been a disturbance, nor have you have had the intent of being one. Which is why you were selected as a peer mentor in your History class, helping those who struggled in the subject you excelled quite well in.

So, you can only imagine the quizzical look on Professor Park’s face when you barge nearly an hour late into your tutoring session, fumbling and juggling your book bag around along with your papers and text books.

On top of that, instead of making your way down to your usual spot near him, you cut through the middle aisles, brushing past rows of chairs then plopping down in a set of empty seats. Most of the other students give quick glances to you, also confused by your truancy.

“Oh….?” Your professor stares at you in awe, taking in your somewhat disheveled appearance. Your shirt appears 2 sizes too big, hair thrown in any kind of way, and when he asks you to move closer towards the group, he watches as your pants hang awkwardly off of your body.

“I’m so sorry, Professor Park.. I-I” The excuses tumble out of your mouth, each step you take to descend down to the base of the room chopping up your words, “It was a complete accident. I hadn’t intended on being so late.”

After your apologies, you reach the bottom of the stairs and walk past the Frenchman in shame. Because of you being late, Professor Park had to take over your usual group, leading a mini-lesson that he has written on the board.

He brings up a somber hand to try and calm you down, his slender fingers waving softly in front of your face, “It’s alright, just take over your group like normal and I’ll fini-”

You do a quick brush past him, your scent blowing right after, and the whiff he gets is enough to make him stop his sentence. Setting your things down near the rest of the group, you go to turn around when you notice it. His whole demeanor’s changed, a sudden stiffness to him that he didn’t have before and instantly you grow nervous.

“P-Professor, are you okay?” Had he actually been upset with you? Oh, who’re you kidding. Of course he should be, you had completely, and utterly messed up.

The watchful look he gives lasts for a couple of more seconds before he registers what you had said, and just like that, he snaps out of it. Blinking, he clears his throat and shakes his head briefly, you seeing part of his dark hair swaying with the motion. He stammers out, “Yes, yes, Y/N. Handle your group for the last 30 minutes, and I’ll handle mine.”

You nod at his words, immediately twisting to the students and going straight into your teaching. Professor Park’s eyes linger on you a bit longer as he drops them down to fully take in your attire, then eventually going to speak with his group.

As he assigns them a writing prompt and allowing time for them to complete it, he finds his mind wandering back to you. His ideal, and perfect student. And to your noticeably large shirt, combined with your wide black pants. Your face was also a dangerous shade of red when you had came in, but even he had just brushed it off as you being tired from sprinting to the session.

It all makes sense now.

The powerful scent you had, strong enough to make him stop in his tracks and stare at you, because never in his months of knowing you, would he have expected you to reek of sex. So blatantly too.

The all-too familiar smell of cum radiated off of you, and your lips were abnormally bigger than usual, most likely from you taking someone’s cock. He almost wants to laugh, he’s so shocked by this revelation.

You’d been getting fucked when you should have been here on time. Professor Park thinks about that again. You, his punctual and reliable student, had been getting fucked when you knew you had to be tutoring.

His gaze dances towards you once more and your animated smile. He knows you only reveal such a grin whenever one of your students says something right. Most of the time he’d find it amusing, this time it makes him scoff.

You’re fucking dirty, he thinks. And he absolutely hates how a throb begins to pulse in his pants. Now, he’s pissed, and it’s all your fault.

A beep from his pocket derives his concentration from you and your antics, and he quietly excuses himself. He gives the students more time to work on the prompt, as he stands closer to the board, yanking his phone from his backside.

There’s a message from one of his former students, one he had a few years ago, and admittedly, Professor Park’s slightly shocked by the surprise text.

11:24 AM

Kim Hongjoong:

- you’ll never guess who i was just with hwa.

- a real fucking freak, i’ll tell ya.

944 notes · View notes

sometimesanalice · 1 month

Text

Sun Stroke

Summary: It’s been a few months since you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and moved to San Diego. And when Rooster and his teammates introduce you to Dogfight football, you know you’ll never be the same again. Hard pressed and out of sorts, you take matters into your own hands.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw/Female Reader

Length: 8k

Warnings: smut, mentions of masturbation, an ode to the jorts.

(author's note: this is a prequel to the 'Like I Can' series, however it can be read on it's own!)

Bradley Bradshaw was a dead man.

The hangover you’d woken up with was 100% his fault for pressing that final Blue Moon into your hand last night at the Hard Deck.

It had been a couple years since the last time the two of you had seen each other in person and even longer since you’d both lived in the same city, but he knew you. And he without a doubt knew better than to order you another drink when you were already fighting back the giggles.

But what were you going to do, not drink a free beer paid for by your longtime best friend? Not to mention the way he’d teasingly called you a lightweight in a way that sounded a little too much like a dare.

You’d only moved to San Diego a little over a month and a half ago, and maybe if you were going to own up to the role you played in earning this headache, you probably should have known better than to try and keep up with the group of aviators. But since he’d been the one to drive and you were having a good time, you’d thrown caution into the wind and cheers-ed his glass with your own with a grin.

Bad choices shouldn’t taste so good.

It was a citrus-kissed mistake you were paying for now with your head pounding as you rushed around your apartment in a frenzy trying to throw your things together to get out the door to meet everyone at the beach. It’s a feat that would have been so much more manageable if you hadn’t been surrounded by a sea of cardboard boxes, all in various stages of unpacked disarray. It’s an inconvenient maze made by your own procrastination.

Those pain relievers you’d popped not too long ago couldn’t kick in quick enough.

You were running late. You hate being late.

And the way your phone keeps pinging is stressing you out even further. You know it’s Bradley and you’ve been ignoring it in favor of trying to get your act together. It goes off again, barely a minute since the last text had come through, but this time you pause your rummaging to check it.

🔴 Rooster, 11:10 AM: where are you??

🔴 Rooster, 11:17 AM: on a scale from 1-10 how bad is your hangover?

🔴 Rooster, 11:22 AM: tick tock, kid.

🔴 Rooster, 11:23 AM: bring me a coffee?

You roll your eyes at the nerve of that last one. He was going to have to beg Jimmy to make him a tar-like pot from the Hard Deck’s ancient coffee maker if he wanted any. If you were suffering through a hangover, he could suffer through being undercaffeinated.

It didn’t help that you were feeling more high strung than usual. Your vibrator had died before you could finish last night and you’d meant to buffer in time for a quick orgasm this morning, but then you’d slept through your alarm.

You hadn’t had sex since you’d broken up with your ex almost three months ago. While you were doing just fine on your own, you were getting tired of the feel of your own hands and fingers.

When your boss had mentioned the promotion that he wanted to put you forward for, you were elated until he mentioned it would involve relocating to the West Coast office. You’d been on the fence, it was the next step towards your dream job, but you were content with your life in Boston. That night when you had casually mentioned the possibility of it to your boyfriend at the time, it seemed clear to you that it would be an either-or situation.

Either you’d stay in Boston with him or you’d move to San Diego on your own.

Not wanting to rock the boat, you didn’t mention it again. Even though you were still weighing the choice in your mind. It wasn’t until a phone call with Bradley, that you’d finally settled on the right choice for you. After breaking it off with your ex, the two of you had essentially lived like roommates until you’d left without a look back.

At the time, you thought it had been a brilliant idea to use some of your less worn clothes as packing protection for your things. But now as you desperately dig through your third box labeled Bedroom looking for the sporty black and white one piece with the zipper that you know you have but can’t seem to find, you’re starting to think you might be the biggest idiot on the West Coast.

The only beach appropriate thing you’d been able to find in your frantic searching was the bright red scalloped bikini you’d bought a few years ago for a bachelorette party in Tulum wrapped around a set of pretty glass candle holders. And while it made your boobs look great, it was much sexier and revealing than what you were going for to meet up with the Daggers on their home turf.

When your phone dings yet again, you finally admit defeat and give up on your search. In a huff, you put on the bikini, giving the bow behind your neck a good tug before pulling up your denim shorts with a couple jumps, trying to speed things along.

Earlier, you’d found the sticky note that said “FRIDGE!!!” underlined a few times by a heavy hand on top of the beach bag you vaguely remember packing for yourself the night before. The soft cooler bag covered with cheerful palm leaves had been haphazardly shoved onto the top shelf and was now sitting by the front door with the rest of your things, including the low sitting pink and white striped beach chair that Bradley had given to you as a ‘Welcome to San Diego’ gift.

You take one more passing glance around your apartment you look for any stray item that might have been missed- not that you’d be able to spot anything anyways through the cardboard battleground that is your apartment- and then you’re shoving your feet into your sandals and flying out the door in a flurry.

Pulling into the private lot of the Hard Deck, you park in the open spot next to your best friend’s blue Bronco. The bar wouldn’t be open until later, but Penny had given the group of aviators’ carte blanche parking perks. It was something you were especially thankful for as you slung the heavy bags over your shoulder.

The warm coastal breeze and briny salt air were clearing the cobwebs from your head.

Even though the feel of it drifting over your bare skin reminded you of just how exposed you were in just your skimpy bikini top and frayed denim shorts, you’d only realized when you were halfway to the beach that you’d forgotten to put a shirt on in your haste to get out the door. But you were sure you’d packed an oversized linen shirt to cover up with if the sun got to be too hot.

As you pass by the well maintained, but sun-bleached patio, you see Penny sitting at one of the picnic tables with her laptop. She waves when she sees you and you raise the iced latte you’d stopped for up to her in greeting, as much as you can without having the beach chair slip off your shoulder.

Further down the beach, you see the group of energetic aviators. Nat looked a bit like an orchestral conductor the way she is directing the finishing touches on the set up. You weren’t too late, just fashionably so, but you were already planning to buy them all a round of drinks later anyways. Even though it’s just a casual hang out, you still want to make a good impression with Bradley’s friends.

It was been one of the things you’d been most worried about moving here. Rooster had opened the door for you to get to know his friends, but you didn’t want to be just an extension of your best friend in the way it felt like you had been in high school. You really liked these people and wanted to make your own friendships with them too.

You’re more than regretting the choice to try and bring everything in one go, with the way the sand is shifting under your feet and how your beach bag and chair keep bumping against each other with every step you take. And just as you’re contemplating ditching them for the moment to circle back for after you get rid of the cooler bag that’s weighing you down, you see Fritz nudge Bradley, pulling his attention away from his phone and pointing in your direction.

The wide grin that appears on his face is immediate and you feel the corners of your own mouth pulling up. California looked good on him. He seemed happier and lighter here, more like the boy you knew from back home. The one he’d been before he lost his mom and the man who’d helped raise him. You hope that one day it’ll look just as good on you. He gives the other man a quick pat on the back before he’s setting off towards you in an easy jog.

“Hey, where’s mine, kid?” Bradley asks, nodding to your drink with its ice cubes now more than half melted before effortlessly taking the heavy bag from you.

You’re so grateful for his help- now that you can feel your arm again- that you almost forget that you’re supposed to be annoyed at him.

“You know what you did, Br-adshaw,” you retort, catching on his name and hoping he could feel your attempt at a glare from behind your dark sunglasses.

It was a change you were still getting used to. You’ve known him since you were eight, he’s always been Bradley to you. But you’d caught on very quickly that everyone else here only ever seemed to call him ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’. And he’d grinned so widely the first time you’d called him by his callsign that it seemed like a confirmation to the question you’d been too apprehensive to ask.

The man didn’t even have the courtesy to look guilty, the all too knowing smirk on his face confirmed everything you already knew, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhmm, sure,” you say, flatly pressing your lips together in an unamused line. You’re tempted to flip him off now that you have a free hand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He tugs his sunglasses down his nose with a finger to look at you from over the top of them, more serious now, “But you had fun, right?”

And it’s too hard to keep up with the façade of being mad at him when he is looking at you so earnestly. When you were younger you had a higher tolerance against those big brown eyes, his ‘cow eyes’ as Carole had called them. Now that you lived here maybe you’d have a fighting chance against them again, but you felt yourself giving into them.

You were still getting use to the fact that you got to be around him all the time again, and sometimes it felt like you were relearning him as an adult. Your friendship with him felt just as familiar as it always had, but you could admit it was also different now.

“A little too much,” you say with a light laugh at your own expense, “But yes, I had fun, Rooster. I really like your friends.”

He smiles, pleased. “Ok, good.”

Bradley slings an arm over your shoulder and the two of you start walking towards the rest of the group. You hold your drink up for him to take a sip as a sign of truce.

He grimaces at the taste, “Why does it taste like I just licked some of that potpourri shit my Grandma Rose used to keep in her house?”

“Maybe because it’s a lavender latte,” you say, taking a smug sip of your own now that the two of you were even. The coffee shop you’d stopped at has become your favorite in the area. It was a little thing, but you liked having a go-to spot when so much still felt so new to you.

“You’ve only been here a few weeks and they’ve already got you drinking the California Kool-Aid? Coffee should taste like coffee, not a damn flower,” he gripes.

“You sound like you’re seventy. Next, you’ll be yelling at kids to get off your grass,” you tease, nudging his ribs with your elbow. “And I’ll have you know I liked these before I moved here. It was just an extra selling point getting one this morning because I know you aren’t going to drink it all when my back is turned.”

He barks a laugh, “Now that I know there were ulterior motives involved, I might just have to help you finish it.”

You stop and push your sunglasses onto the top of your head, giving him a firm look, “You’re still on friendship probation, tread carefully where my coffee is involved.”

Bradley playfully reaches out for your coffee, “You don’t scare me, kid.” You attempt to push him away, but he doesn’t budge an inch.

The two of you had basically reached the rest of the group. The gentle crash of the waves was mingling with the sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing from a speaker and the bursts of easy laughter of his friends. Jake is a few feet from the two of you at the edge of the set up as he works to cover himself with sunscreen, the mist sparkling on the fine hairs on his forearms before he rubs it in.

“You might have those curls figured out now, but I bet my mom still has photos of you with that terrible middle part from when you were thirteen. Don’t mess with me, Bradshaw.”

His head snaps towards you, “Your potpourri coffee is safe, I promise.” You can’t help but laugh at the panic in his voice and the way he warily eyes Jake, clearly not wanting the other man to get his hands on any potential blackmail material.

The sound of a low, exaggerated whistle pulls your attention over to Hangman. “Lookin’ good, kid,” Jake drawls, a pair of dimples punctuating his lazy grin on either cheek, “Red is definitely your color.” His pecs and abs are gleaming in the sun. He’s not your usual type, but it’s working for you more than it should.

God, you really needed to get laid. Or at least get a more reliable vibrator.

“Nah, I’m not having any of that,” Bradley warns, pointing a finger at him, “You cut that shit out right now, Seresin.”

Jake puts his hands up in surrender, but that sharp smile gets even wider, “Just givin’ the lady a compliment, Rooster, don’t get your feathers in a ruffle.” He sends you a wink and you think you hear Bradley grumble something under his breath.

The blonde with all his pretty boy looks was absolutely a shark when it came to finding ways to get under Rooster’s skin. You’d heard your best friend complain about him for years. And even after learning about their truce, you hadn’t been too sure about meeting him in person. But ultimately his easy charm had won you over pretty quickly. You could admit that now you had a lot of fun teaming up with Jake and riling Bradley up.

“Thank you, Jacob,” you sing, tugging on Rooster’s arm towards the spot that had been left open for you in between his things and what you recognized as Natasha’s oversized beach towel.

You gingerly balance your coffee on the arm of his deep green beach chair before dropping the rest of your things into the sand and take in the carefully curated beach arrangement.

Fritz and Harvard are off to the side casually tossing a frisbee back and forth between them. Callie and Nat were facing off against Coyote and Payback in a game of cornhole laughing as they shit talk. Yale looks like he is napping, but you spot the AirPods in his ears, probably trying to listen to the audiobook he’d recommend to you last night in peace. Next to him is Fanboy, who looks pretty engrossed in the comic book he’s reading. And Bob was making his way back up the beach towards the group from where he’d been down by the water.

“I’m going to go offload that and say ‘hi’ to people,” you tell Rooster. Taking the heavy cooler bag back from him, you set off towards the designated grazing area in the middle of the ocean-facing semicircle Nat had corralled people into, greeting his friends as you pass by.

You were more than a little curious about tipsy you had packed for the day. Unzipping the bag, the first thing you spot is the last thing you ever would have expected to find for a day at the beach.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself, hesitating for a moment, unsure whether or not to add it to the rest of the things in the cooler.

“Are those pickles?” You turn to see Mickey standing behind you.

You hold the jar up for his inspection, “I can’t tell you what I was thinking by bringing them. Do you think I should put them in?”

He surprises you when he whoops and takes the jar from you, holding it above his head like a championship belt, “Yo, Payback! Look! The kid brought pickles!”

“Which kind?” Reuben calls back, taking a pause from the game with a beanbag still clutched in his hand.

“Claussen! The whole kind!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” he hoots, sending you a thumbs up. “Grab me one too, Fanboy.”

Mickey twists open the lid with a satisfying pop and fishes one out. “These are the best, thanks!” he says before excitedly hustling off towards Reuben to share, the cornhole game now on an indefinite pause.

You hadn’t been too sure what tipsy you had been thinking, but apparently the beach pickles were destined to be a hit. Either that or you weren’t the only one trying to shake off the tail end of a hangover this morning.

Bob swings by to grab a soda, but stops to help you unload the rest of the things from your bag. As the two of you work together, he tells you about the crab he’d found near the patio of the Hard Deck that he’d just released back into the ocean.

Both of the large coolers were pretty packed, so no one would be going hungry or thirsty today. You make a note to shop around for one of your own and maybe a beach umbrella since no one else seems to have one. You were more of a sand, sea, shade type of girl.

Once everything is all put away, you grab a couple bottles of water and make your way back to your friend. You catch him taking another curious sip of your coffee, this time he nods like the taste might be growing on him. You let it slide because you see that while you’ve been away he’s set up your chair for you.

“Are you feeling peckish, Rooster?” you ask, plopping the water in his cup holder, eyeing the pilfered bag of trail mix he must have pulled out of your tote bag in his hands.

“What?” Bradley shrugs, unapologetically. You roll your eyes at him affectionately as he helps himself to another handful. “God, I’ve missed this. Japan has so much good food, but one of the perks of being back stateside after a year and a half is all the snacks. I’ve been going to Trader Joe’s like twice a week since I’ve been back.”

You still didn’t know anything about the mission that had brought him back to Top Gun. That phone call you’d had with him the night before he’d shipped off had played in your mind on repeat until he’d texted you that he was back safely in San Diego. The only thing you had been able to glean is that not everything went according to plan, based on his newest additions to his collection of scars. They were the first thing you’d noticed when he’d picked you up at the airport. Still shiny, pink, and fresh.

“Well, with that Hawaiian shirt collection of yours, you’d certainly fit in.”

He chuckles at that as he takes a moment to sort through the collection of various nuts and fruit and chocolate bits, he plucks out the raisins and drops them back in the bag. You bite back a smile because some things never change. He’s always pulled out the raisins, usually to replace them with more chocolate chips. Back when you were teens, his infamous ‘Bradshaw Mix’ was basically a 3-1 ratio of chocolate chips to anything else.

“Wait a second. Hold up, ‘peckish’?” His hand pauses halfway to his mouth, “Was that a joke at the expense of my callsign, kid?”

You point at yourself like who me? blinking innocently at him, “I would never.” Then grabbing a few of the nuts from his open hand you pop them into your mouth, shooting him a sunny grin.

Now that everything was all situated you felt like you could finally relax. You were like this when you traveled too, never at ease until you were through security with your bag stowed above your head. That tightness in your chest only releases after you’re buckled into your seat with all your in-flight necessities tucked away in the seat pocket in front of you.

Maybe that’s why it took you so long to notice the shirt that he was wearing. Well, mostly wearing. The sleeves had been cut off with an overenthusiastic hand and neared nip slip territory with the amount of Rooster’s golden skin that was on display.

“The Hooters shirt, really? Of all the things you could have held onto from your glory days, you chose that? How gauche.” You slide your sunglasses back on your face with your pinky exaggeratedly pointed up to the sky for dramatic flair.

He clutches his chest, “She’s got that fancy degree and been living in a big city and now she thinks she’s too good for Hooters? My, my how times have changed.” Bradley whips his tank off and tosses at you the same way he had done hundreds of times when the two of you were growing up. Except the overpowering smell of teen spirit and axe body spray was replaced with a subtle, rich woodsy smell.

Rooster laughs when you succumb to the urge and throw him your middle finger.

“Your motley crew of teenaged horndogs only went there because you all had a crush on Danielle Batula’s older sister,” you shoot back, folding up his shirt and putting it on top of your things.

“Hey now, we also went for the Lots-a-Tots. I’ve always been a feminist, kid, if a woman feels empowered wearing those spandex shorts then I’m going to support her,” he says with a wink, “Far be it from me to tell a woman what to wear.” You reach up to flick his nose and he bats at your hand, grinning even wider.

“And what’s the excuse for the reason you’re wearing jorts at the beach?”

Not that any man should be able to pull them off, but he wore them well. You were pretty sure he could pull off most anything with the body he’d worked for over the years, but the fact of the matter was that denim had no place mixing with sand.

“These are my beach jeans,” he says like it’s the most logical thing in the world, as he strikes a pose with his hip cocked out.

“I can see that, Rooster. But why?”

“It’s because they get him laid,” Javy cuts in with a booming laugh, slapping Bradley on the back as he passes by on his way towards the coolers, “Isn’t that right, Bradshaw? How many numbers did you score the last time we all did this? Like five?”

He runs his against the back of his neck, looking more sheepish than you’ve ever known him to be, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. She doesn’t need to hear about all that.”

“Oh.” It sounds just as stupid coming out of your mouth as you feel, not entirely sure how to respond or what to do with yourself.

Objectively speaking, you know your best friend is attractive. Tall, broad, and tan. You’d seen him get hit on more than a few times at the Hard Deck in the short time you’ve been here. But Rooster’s sex life wasn’t something you really wanted to hear about- or think about- especially when yours is nonexistent at the moment.

However, it was one thing to generally know Bradley had no problem finding someone to take home and a different thing to hear just how easy it was for him.

But you couldn’t say it surprised you though. During your first night out with everyone, you’d overheard a girl in the bathroom talking to her friend about him in more detail than you ever wanted to know, right down to confirming there had been more to the story he’d told you about how he’d earned his callsign.

You pointedly ignore the turn in conversation in favor of digging through your woven beach bag. You hadn’t had the time to apply sunscreen with all your rushing around to get here, and knowing Rooster he most likely hadn’t put any on either. His shoulders aren’t pink yet, but they undoubtedly will be by the end of the day. Even with the SPF 65 you’d purchased with him in mind.

Grabbing the bottle, you smoothly lob it to him, “Here, put that on. ‘Lobster’ isn’t nearly as cool of a callsign, Rooster.” You have to turn away from the chaotically haphazard way he rubs it all over his face.

Leaving him to his own devices, you pull out a battered paperback book and toss it into your chair, only slightly mortified to see that tipsy you had been in a grocery store bodice ripper mood. If only you had noticed it earlier, you would have swapped it out for something less incriminating.

How you’d taken the time to unpack your books, and not all your clothes was beyond you.

You’re about to step around to the front of your pink and white striped chair when you feel a firm tug on the belt loop of your shorts, making you stop to turn back towards your best friend.

“Woah, get back here. We can’t have you frying, kid.” He squeezes some sunscreen into his hand, “Turn around and I’ll get your back for you.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you say, adamantly shaking your head, “I trust you with a lot of things, but I am not trusting you to put the SPF on me. You haven’t even rubbed it all the way in on your face yet.” You thumb at the smear of white on his cheek to further emphasize the point.

“Hey, these hands handle a multimillion-dollar fighter jet, I’m more than capable of covering your back with sunscreen,” Rooster huffs, “Now, c’mere.”

Natasha laughs beside you as you dart out of his reach and around your chair to stand by her instead. She must have just walked up, because the last time you’d seen her she had been over on the other side of the group talking to Callie. But you had every confidence she would back you up with this since her friendship with Bradley was one that spanned years, and she’s undoubtedly seen him fried to a crisp before too.

“She makes a good point,” she says with a smirk, pinning him with a sharp raise of her eyebrow, “The last time I asked one of you guys, I ended up with the worst tan lines.”

The look of betrayal on his face is comical, “And here I thought we were friends.”

“I’ve decided to upgrade,” she says pointing to you. You beam in victory towards him and he just shakes his head at you before looking down at the large blob so sunscreen in the center of his large palm like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

You take Natasha up on her offer to help you cover the spots you can’t reach. All the while, you can hear him grumbling to himself as he works on rubbing in the dollop that had been meant for you over his shoulders and chest. After she’s done with your back, you shimmy out of your shorts and work on getting your arms and legs covered.

As Nat pulls up her thick, shiny hair onto the top of her head- the reason she must have come over here in the first place- and reminds Rooster about the plan to play ‘Dogfight’ football a little later before setting off again. You’d heard of flag football, but that name was new for you. You’d seen enough football with your ex and you were suddenly very grateful you’d brought a book to keep yourself occupied, even if it was a bodice ripper.

You double check your set up, ready to hunker down, when you feel Rooster’s eyes trained on you, “What?”

“Just looking for evidence of this tattoo you allegedly have,” he says, doubtfully, “Considering that I only found out about last night. Since when do we keep secrets?”

“I told you it’s not for the viewing public, so it’s none of your business. Now, stop hovering and go play with your friends. You’re annoying me,” you say without heat, shooing him away.

“Are you bossing me around, kid?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yep,” you say breezily, getting comfortable in your chair and opening your book, “You’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

“You’d think,” Rooster agrees with a laugh. He squeezes your shoulder before strutting off to go join where Coyote, Harvard, and Fanboy are already tossing a football back and forth not too far away.

Now that you’re on your own, you lose yourself in the words printed on the cheap paper of your smutty bargain book. You’re too engrossed in the tension and build-up of the story you’re reading to pay attention to anything else. And you’re reminded why this particular book has never made it into a donation box when you do your spring cleaning, it’s got the best combination of all your favorite tropes. By the fourth chapter you’re completely immersed in the story, and all the chatter happening around you becomes white noise.

The only signal of time passing is marked by the melted ice in your empty coffee cup, by the crinkle of swiftly turning of pages, and by the sun as it rises higher and higher in the sky.

What minimal marine layer there had been when you’d first arrived is long gone. You’re probably due for another layer of sunscreen by now, but you can’t be bothered when you’re in the middle of possibly one of the hottest sex scenes you’ve ever read.

It’s so well written, so incredibly vivid that you can almost feel greedy hands and wandering mouths along every inch of you. The blood thrumming in your ears has drowned out the sound of crashing waves. You’re so hyperaware of your body. It’s as if you can feel every individual grain of sand on your skin. Tucked between your fingers, on your shin, in the nook of your ankle bone. The high heat of the day has your hair sticking to the back of your neck and sweat collecting in the hollow of your collarbone. You’re too keenly aware of the prickling sensation on your shoulders and the tops of your thighs.

You thought living vicariously through the main character might help take the edge off. Instead, all it’s done is given fresh life to the ruined orgasm from the night before, like an echo of need reverberating throughout your whole body. A reminder of how untouched you’ve been over the last few months. You can’t help the way you’re shifting in your chair, trying to relieve the way your clit is throbbing in time with your heartbeat. The moment your cunt clenches around nothing, you close your book with a sharp snap. Not even bothering to mark the page you left off at.

You feel fidgety and keyed up.

Needing something to do, you grab your tote looking for the lightweight linen coverup you assumed was packed. But digging around all you can find is Rooster’s Hooters shirt from earlier.

You’re more than a little irritated at yourself for not double-checking you had everything before you left for the day, and because your tipsy self had clearly fucked you over. You don’t know anyone else as well as you know Bradley to rummage through their things to look for some other form of sun protection, so with a huff you pull it on over your head. The cotton is soft and warm to the touch. You’re grateful for the way it covers your shoulders, but you’re already mentally preparing yourself for how smug he’ll be when he sees you in it, especially after all the shit you gave him earlier.

Still needing to keep yourself occupied from wanting to crawl out of your skin, you crack open the water bottle you’d grabbed earlier and swallow down a few large gulps. You’d heard when Natasha had rallied the group for their game, but you hadn’t taken a moment to find out what ‘Dogfight’ Football actually was.

You’re not even the slightest bit prepared for what you see playing out in front of you down by the water. You’d figured watching some of their football game would help your act together, but now you feel even more spun out of control than before at the sight of so much skin.

Fuck.

The sun is bouncing off of their hard, athletic bodies. Under the shiny sheen of sunscreen and sweat, their muscles look bigger and the divots and ridges more pronounced. You knew these were some of the best and brightest the Navy had to offer, but seeing them in action was something else entirely. The power of their legs was impressive as they ran and spun around their opponents. The precision of their aim as they threw the football to a teammate. Every single one of them was in peak shape. Those weren’t vanity muscles, those were earned and honed by hard work.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from any of it.

The lithe line of Natasha’s toned thighs. The full, defined pecs on Jake’s massive chest. The way Bob’s large hands easily wrapped around most of the curved football he’d just caught. The skin over the wide expanse of Javy’s back was pulled taut, his muscles flexing as he twists and bends. The way Mickey was breathing hard made his chiseled abs stand out even more than they already did.

It was a lot. Especially for someone who couldn’t remember the last time they’d been good and truly fucked.

And then there was Rooster.

There had been a few moments since moving here where you’d been struck by this version of him. It was almost like your brain couldn’t connect the tall, broad man in front of you racing across the beach with the long-limbed, gangly boy you’d known with the red and black braces. Or the one in the teal shirt who’d scooped ice cream for his first job. Or the one who’d helped you pass Algebra 2 when the math teacher cared more about coaching the basketball team than he did trying to make sure his students understood the material.

Seeing him now, like this? This version of him was new to you.

Rooster’s chest and face were flushed pink, those curls of his are an absolute riot. The sweat he’d worked up made it look like his golden skin was gleaming in the bright afternoon sun, even with the patches of gritty sand that were sticking to him. Power and control radiated off every inch of him, the embodiment of physical strength and agility. Every movement he made was purposeful and precise, like he knew exactly what he was capable of.

You knew he was built, but the casual perfection of his body still takes you by surprise.

The broadness of his shoulders, the definition of his biceps and arms, the jutting v-shaped muscle that ran diagonally from his hipbones towards the trail of fine hair below his belly button. The long tendon that ran along the side of his neck was on full display as he throws his head back to laugh at something one of his teammates says. It was impossible to miss the unapologetic confidence in his swagger or the way those ridiculous jorts were clinging to his thick thighs. They were absolutely soaked through, the light wash darkened by the Pacific, and the denim was molded to him in a way that left nothing to the imagination.

When did Bradley get an ass like that?

The startling intrusive thought about your best friend has you shooting up from your chair in a flash, your book tumbling off your lap and into the warm sand.

Jesus Christ, you needed to get a grip.

Shade. You needed shade and to get out of the heat. And you definitely needed to get away from the overwhelming display of sunkissed sweaty skin and peak physical prowess playing out before you.

And then you’re off like a shot towards the Hard Deck.

The burst of cool air you’re hit with as soon as you’re pushing through the patio door that Penny left unlocked for the group is more than welcomed against your overheated skin, even as it makes goosebumps erupt along your body.

You sigh in relief once you flip the lock to the worn wooden door of the bathroom closed. Leaning against the cool surface that’s littered with faded stickers from all around the world, you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your racing heartbeat to slow down. You’re breathing hard like you’ve run a marathon, your lungs uncooperative to the point where you don’t feel like you can take a full breath. You’ve never felt this antsy before, it’s like there’s a live wire under your skin.

In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of yourself. You’re more than a little windblown, but it’s the wild gleam in your eyes that surprises you the most, it’s a look on yourself that you’ve never seen before. Your thighs rub together as you shift your weight on your feet and it makes the pulsing of your clit impossible to ignore.

You weren’t. You shouldn’t.

But you have no idea how you’re going to make it through the rest of the afternoon and evening if you didn’t with how on edge you are.

Bringing your hand up to your chest, you press it there and let your thumb soothingly skim the side of your neck, trying to use whatever techniques you’d learned in those overpriced yoga classes you’d started taking before you’d left Boston to calm yourself down. But your fluttery pulse won’t be pacified.

Every part of you feels hypersensitive, you can feel every thread of Rooster’s shirt against your too tight skin. The desire to be touched is overwhelming. Your breasts feel heavy and you’re all too aware of your peaked nipples against the cups of your swimsuit. You’re craving hands other than your own.

It’s been so long since someone else has made you come. Even longer since you’ve had a back-arching, toe-curling, steal-your-breath kind of orgasm. You want to be pressed into the door, you want a firm, solid body fitted against yours. You want to be kissed and touched and fucked.

You keep telling yourself that you aren’t going to, even as your hand trails down the soft cotton between the valley of your breasts and over your stomach down even further. Your fingers sneak easily beneath the top of your bikini bottoms since you’d left without pulling your denim shorts back on. There are no thoughts left in your head, only the ringing in your ears. You need, you need.

There’s a small whimper that escapes you at the first touch of your fingertips against your slippery clit. The sensation has your hips jerking forward on their own, seeing out more. You’re so wet already.

There’s no finesse or slow build up. No gentle teasing or trying to draw this out. Your fingers are making quick, tight circles on that pulsing part of you. In the quiet of the bathroom, the rhythmic slick sounds you’re creating feel almost too loud.

You already know it’s not going to take you long to get there, but you still can’t help but let your mind wander. You think of big hands with thick fingers, ones that are calloused and rougher than your own touching you in just the way you like. The thought of a thick thigh pressed in between your own, on you could rock and grind against, has you rolling your hips harder against your fingertips. You can almost feel the ghosting of hot lips, a wet mouth, and a teasing tongue along your neck. All you want is a raspy voice in your ear whispering filthy words and murmuring pretty praise.

Couldn’t even wait until you got home. C’mon then, dirty girl, show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone and no one’s watching.

Go on, give that needy clit the attention it deserves. Spread your thighs open further- yes, just like that- I want to see how wet you are for me.

Jesus, look how hard you’re working for it. You’re going to make yourself come, and then I’m going to fuck you so hard that everyone will know what we did in here. They’ll all know how desperate you were for this cock.

A soft whine makes its way out of you, and with your free hand you pull up the collar of the shirt you’re wearing over your mouth to try and muffle your sounds as you tremble all over.

You’re hit with the scent of clean laundry and the warm, woodsy scent of expensive cologne. It’s rich and cozy, it reminds you of the trees that grow everywhere in your hometown. And underneath that, there’s a smell that you’d know anywhere, one you’ve always been familiar with. It smells like Br--

You come open-mouthed with stars blooming behind your eyelids, the force of it hitting you so hard that your knees nearly give out beneath you. The hand that had been covering your mouth slaps against the door for support. Your hips writhe against your fingertips as you chase those last shimmery moments of your release.

In your post-orgasm satisfaction, you feel like you can finally breathe again, now that all your antsy, unsettled energy has been freed from your body.

When you can feel your legs again, you go wash your hands once and then again for good measure. Like somehow it’ll erase the last few minutes from the Hard Deck’s history books, even though you’re sure it’s seen much worse. You chance a peek at yourself in the mirror, you look more relaxed than you did when you’d arrived.

Unlocking the door, you leave the sanctuary of the quiet bathroom. The only thing on your mind is the glass of ice water that’s calling your name. You’re about to round the corner out of the hallway when you collide into someone’s chest. A firm, sweaty, shirtless chest.

“Oh hey, there you are,” Rooster says, his big hand steadying you at the waist. “You ok? You look overheated, kid.”

Your face heats up immediately. You’re too flustered by what just occurred barely five minutes ago to look him in the eye. You feel embarrassment trying to bubble its way to the surface, but you push it back down in the name of self-care. Plus, you could always blame it on sunstroke if you had to, not that you were ever planning on telling anyone about it.

“Probably just dehydrated,” you ramble, trying to sound unaffected. Your eyes are trained on a spot just under his ear. “But you’re one to talk. You’re fried, Rooster.” With a finger you press lightly on his bright pink shoulder. His hisses and knocks your hand away.

“Nah, I’m just working on my base tan.” You don’t see as much as you feel the moment he notices what you’re wearing. Smugness rolling off of him in waves, “Not too good for Hooters now, are you?”

“Shut up,” you mumble.

“C’mon, let’s get you some water.” Tucking you under his arm as he steers you back towards the bar. “So what did you think of Dogfight football? Did you catch any of it or did your highbrow literary choice have your full, undivided attention?”

Your mind starts to whirl, unable to think of a reply. Thankfully you’re spared giving him an answer as the rest of the clamorous team spills in through the open patio door. The commotion is a godsend, because it’s almost like he forgot he even asked the question in the first place in the all the activity. The real answer will forever be a secret between you and the Hard Deck.

The late afternoon melts into evening like hand-churned ice cream, smooth and silky.

Eventually, the beach set up is packed away into trunks of cars as the party moves inside the bar. You end up back in your denim shorts, the Hooters shirt is the crowning glory to your ensemble for the rest of the night. You don’t even feel guilty getting people to call Rooster ‘Flamingo’ after the third time someone asks you about being out of uniform regulation. But he isn’t faring much better in the too-tight shirt he was borrowing, since it turns out that out of everyone in the group only Bob had been the one with enough common sense to pack a spare one.

As predicted, the pink hue of Rooster’s skin deepens with every passing hour until he’s bribing you into leaving early with the promise of burgers and milkshakes in exchange for putting on aloe for him back at his place.

He’s sprawled face down on his couch in a pair of loose sweatpants with his eyes closed, contentedly humming as you work on applying a second coat of the cool, soothing gel to his hot-to-the-touch skin. One of the movies the two of you use to watch all the time plays on in the background, the crumpled wrappers and empty cups of your dinner sitting out still on his coffee table. Every time you come here you can’t help but seek out any little touches that look like him, but much like yours, his condo seems to be a work in progress.

“It’s nice having you around, kid,” Rooster says with a sigh. “I’ve missed you.”

“You don’t have to butter me up, Bradshaw, I’ll put one more layer on for you before I leave,” you tease, as your hand follows the freckles along his back.

He squeezes your knee, “No, seriously. I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but I’m really happy you’re here.” And you know that if you were to look in his brown eyes, you’d see nothing but fondness reflected in them.

You give him a soft smile, “I’m happy I’m here too.”

It’s late by the time you get back to your place.

It seems pointless with the cardboard boxes still scattered around your apartment, but you still go through the motion of putting all your things away. Like wiping out your cooler bag and throwing your clothes in the washing machine, including the well-worn Hooters shirt. You’ve already decided to spend the rest of your weekend trying to unpack your things, you’re ready to make your space feel more like your home.

It’s a slow sinking feeling that settles over you as you wash the sand and sea salt from your skin in the shower. Your day has been so filled with chatter and laughter, that it feels uncomfortably quiet. It was different from the peaceful quiet you’d had at Rooster’s place, this was the empty kind of quiet.

You turn the tv on in your room and crawl into bed, savoring the way the cool cotton of your sheets feels against your legs. Checking your phone, you see that Nat has sent you some pictures that she must have taken during the day. Scrolling through them you like the windblown, carefree girl you see in them.

For as good as the day you’ve had, you can’t quite shake off how lonely you’re feeling now. You can’t help but think about how nice it would be to come home and have someone here to laugh and relax with. Someone just to be with.

You pull your lower lip in between your teeth as you click into the app store feature on your phone. Taking a few moments to skim the options, you download the dating app with the highest rating and best reviews, deciding that it can’t hurt to try.

Not everyone got to have a fresh start in a new city, and you wanted to make the most of it. A new city with new places to go and new people to meet.

And you are ready to embrace every bit of it with open arms and a hopeful heart.

California was going to look good on you.

Bradley Bradshaw, you liked that lavender latte and you're not fooling any of us!

Many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse and @callsignspark for being the best babes to swoon over pretty pilots with!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

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