#it might be shit but I wrote it with my own two hands and that’s what matters!

[sometimesanalice]

Between Friends

Summary: Bradley and you don’t talk about that Spring Break. But a single question asked during a night out at the Hard Deck might just change things between the two of you forever.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 11K

Warning: smut (including loss of virginity), brief mention of underage drinking, and college!bradley in a backwards hat

(Author's note: Happy Birthday Jordan! I wrote this just for you! Look at me keeping secrets from you! Enjoy!)

𝐍𝐎𝐖

Rooster couldn’t control his bouncing leg.

That night at the Hard Deck had started out like any other: good music, good drinks, good people. Over the course of the evening, he’d found himself seated between you and Bob in a lopsided circle with the rest of the Daggers around a few tall tables that had been pushed together just shooting the shit.

It was all fun and games until swapping stories about embarrassing middle school moments turned into cringing over first kiss stories turned into Seresin grinning like a shark asking about how everyone’s first time went down.

Rooster felt his pulse kick up with every collective laugh and groan as his friends went one by one sharing how they’d lost their virginities. Because with each passing story, it meant that you were one person closer to going. And for the first time in his life- even after over two decades of friendship- he didn’t know what your answer was going to be.

So he is just as shocked as his teammates are when you tentatively reveal, “So, um, my first time was with Rooster.” He doesn’t miss the way all his friends’ heads snap towards him. 

All eyes are on the two of you, and you’re pointedly looking anywhere but him.

Rooster had been anxiously waiting to hear the story of your first official time, the one that was with someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t realize that you still considered him your first.  He’d figured that part of your history had long been overwritten by whoever had been lucky enough to catch your eye and make your heart race in a romantic way.

The two of you had never talked about it in the after.

Not once, not ever.

He didn’t care that people knew, he just wasn’t expecting it.

Jake starts the group out of its stunned silence by slapping a heavy hand on top of the table, nearly sending some bottles to the floor, “I knew it! I knew y’all couldn’t have been friends all this time and not have tried it out at least once.”

“Jesus Christ, dude, chill,” Javy mutters. He’s always been the better of the two about reading the room.

Trying to spare you from being put on the spot even more than you already were now, Rooster mumbles through the way he’d lost his to a girl from his AP Econ class after a playoff baseball game.

He stares at the way you’re nervously picking at the label of the Blue Moon he’d grabbed for you when he went to get a refill of his own. He can practically hear the way your brain is buzzing. He wonders if you wish you could take back the words from where they are sitting on the table with the collection of bottles and peanut shells for everyone to see.

Bob being the team player that he is starts talking about how he’d lost his one summer in college to another camp counselor, going into more detail than he’s ever given before, probably trying to redirect the attention to himself to give the two of you a moment to regroup.

Rooster makes a mental note to tell Penny to put all of Bob’s cream sodas from now on on his own tab.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. Or where to look. Or where to put his hands. He wants to talk to you, but there’s no good way for him to go about it without drawing even more attention to the two of you.

You were supposed to be going on a first date tonight, but he’d talked you into canceling to hang out with him instead. He likes having all of your attention on him. And maybe he’s been a little selfish with you, because he doesn’t like to share you with anyone else. You’ve always been his best friend.

Rooster likes that he gets to talk to you whenever he wants now, and that it doesn’t feel like a never-ending game of catch up anymore. In the year since the Uranium mission, he’d felt like all the fragmented pieces of his life had finally come together. He’d reconnected with Mav, he was living in the same city as his best friend, and he had a place he could finally call home.

He didn’t just want the highlights with you, he wanted everything in between too. There’s no more distance due to time zones and scheduling times to call because now you only live 20 minutes away from him. And the next time he comes home from a deployment, he knows he’ll get to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him.

He feels like he’s learned so much more about the grown-up version of you over the last year than he has in the last ten.

Jake jumps in barely a breath after Bob finishes telling his story. “Well, we all know it’s not the first who matters, but who was the best.” Rooster doesn’t trust the gleam in his eyes or the sharp smile on his face. “Since Bradshaw cut you off before, how’s about you go first this time, darlin’. You can tell us about who knocked your socks off. Maybe this time he’ll let you finish, if you know what I mean.”

It’s thinly veiled snooping disguised as chivalry, and it doesn’t fool anyone. Nat’s eyes dart to him briefly, trying to get a read on him.

He’d been 21 at the time. And while he knows more now that he did then, he also knows his name isn’t going to be coming out of your mouth for a second time tonight.

Rooster takes a sip of his beer, needing something to do.

He knows you’ve been with other people. You’d lived with your ex for over a couple years, for fuck's sake. But it was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not talk about your sex lives with each other.

His leg starts bouncing again and he realizes he really doesn’t want to hear this. Not because of his ego, but because he doesn’t know what to do about the knot that’s formed in his stomach.

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times before you speak, “That title would also go to Rooster.” The admission is soft, but sure. 

Where his heart had been pounding before, now it feels like it had stopped completely.

It’s been 13 years since that Spring Break. 13 years and he’s still your best?

Barely five minutes ago, he hadn’t known where to look. But now? Now he couldn’t stop staring at you.

He just didn’t understand why you still wouldn’t look at him back.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

When you’d floated the idea by Bradley about visiting him at UVA for Spring Break during your weekly phone call, you’d been braced for the disappointment of him already having plans. It was his Senior year, it wouldn’t surprise you if he wanted to go out with a bang and make the most of it. Especially since he would belong to the Navy soon enough.

But he’d taken you by surprise when he started enthusiastically listing off all the places he wanted to show you, planning out your trip like a well-seasoned travel agent before you’d even booked a plane ticket.

You’d started looking up airfare before you’d even hung up the phone. And thirty minutes later you had a confirmation email flagged in your inbox after elatedly charging that aisle seat to the credit card you only used for emergencies.

It had been close to a year since you’d last seen him. He usually spent his Winter Break with your family, but this year he’d stayed on campus for the holidays and it was the longest the two of you had ever been apart since you’d first met him when you were 8.

And maybe that’s why it took you so long to spot him in the Arrivals area of the Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport.

You’ve always prided yourself in being able to pick Bradley out of a crowd anywhere, but in your cursory glance you hadn’t recognized the tall, broad guy with the UVA shirt pulled taut across his chest and wearing a baseball hat backward on his head. It wasn’t until your third searching pass that you’d caught the lips that were quirked up in amusement and those familiar brown eyes trained on you as he leaned ever-so-casually against the faux wood paneling on the wall waiting for you to notice him.

He’d filled out in the months since you’d last seen him. He was more toned than you remembered him being with definition in places where there hadn’t been before. His face had more distinct angles and less baby fat cushioned curves. Still a bit boyish, but he was well on his way to looking like a man.

Bradley raised his hand like he was going to wave, but then he’d mimicked casting a fishing line in your direction and reeling it in. And it was so endearingly stupid- so him- that you couldn’t help but take the bait and made your way towards him with the biggest grin on your face.

You’d ignored the jittery flutter in your stomach as you’d weaved between people and luggage. You’ve never been nervous around your best friend before. There was something that had on your mind a lot as the days to your visit inched closer, but you’d shoved that out of your mind, because you were finally standing in front of him in person for the first time in months. 

“Hey, kid,” he’d greeted you, taking your bag, “Charlottesville must have known you were coming, because she’s going to be sunny for you all week.” As soon as you were within arm’s reach, he tugged you right into his chest for a hug. You could feel the unspoken I missed you in the way he squeezed you just that bit tighter before releasing you.

Then he was dropping an arm over your shoulders and steering you towards the exit and driving you into town in the beat-up car he’d bought after selling his prized Montero, the car that Mav had given him for his birthday.

You’re only there for a week and Bradley doesn’t waste a single moment of it.

After dropping your things off in his dorm room, he takes you straight to campus where he gives you the Official Bradley Bradshaw Certified UVA Tour. He buys you lunch from one of the food trucks in the Amphitheater “for sustenance” before taking you to see the highlights. You start with the Rotunda and then the academic village, making a special pitstop at the Whispering Wall for you to tell it a secret. And then he takes you on a more historical tour, like showing you the exact route he used to streak The Lawn and pointing out the place he’d puked after his 21st birthday.

It’s clear he’d put so much thought into your visit because it seems like there is never a down moment. By the end of the third day you’re more surprised that you don't wake up every morning with a printed itinerary on your pillow.

He sneaks you into the Slaughter Rec Center to rock climb, claiming he had a person on the inside with the right connections. But really from what you could tell, the pretty girl at the check-in counter clearly had a crush on him. He takes you to the batting cages he likes to go to before Dead Week, and spends the time there equal parts making fun of your power swing and trying to fix it.

You get your revenge the next day standing outside of the imposing columns and massive doors to the Fralin Art Museum. Skeptically eyeing the sculpture in the front of the building that kind of looked like a giant wisdom tooth, you mentioned, “I didn’t realize you’d become such a patron of the cultural arts.”

“Hey now, I like artsy shit,” he’d said, only mildly affronted.

You snorted at that. “Is there an exhibit on beer pong and blunt rolling you wanted to see?” Through the window you’d spotted some large landscape oil paintings in ornate gilded frames and carved marble busts of what you assumed were probably of some of the Founding Fathers.

“You just missed that one, it was last month,” Bradley lobbed back, opening the door for you.

“What a pity,” you’d said with a dramatic sigh, “Guess we’ll have to settle for some tasteful nudes instead.”

“If we’re lucky,” he’d muttered under his breath, as you passed under his arm.

And then you’d felt the corners of your mouth kick up.

Turning around you’d pressed your finger to his chest, whispering so the person behind the ticket desk didn’t hear you, “Twenty bucks says you don’t make it thirty minutes in there.”

He narrowed his eyes, taking in your sly grin, “You’re on, kid.”

It’s the easiest $20 you’ve ever made.

The two of you call it a truce only after he tips your kayak into the still chilly Rivanna River.

Later that night, he takes you to a party on “Mad Bowl” that one of his frat friends was hosting. The backyard was all strung up with red and green Christmas lights like they had been too lazy to take them down after the holidays and decided it added to the outdoor ambiance instead of packing them away.

He was still just as protective over you as he was back in high school. Spending the whole night keeping an eye on you and handing you drinks that he’d uncapped himself using the opener that he had on his keychain, the one that still had the little fighter jet charm you’d given him ages ago dangling from it.

The days pass all too quickly as he shows you all of his favorite spots.

You knew UVA wasn’t where he’d originally wanted to be- where he thought he’d be- but you were happy that he seemed happy here.

But in between the late-night microwave ramen and movie watching and crossing off all the things on Bradley’s Spring Break To-Do List, there’d been something you’d been wanting to talk to him about. But you were having so much fun with him, you’d missed your best friend over those long months apart, and you didn’t want to ruin the time you had left with him here.

It lingered at the back of your mind like a phantom hair that you can feel, but can’t ever seem to brush off no matter how many times you attempt to. You felt like you were waiting for the right time that you weren’t sure would ever come. And if you were being honest, you weren’t entirely sure you would even be brave enough to ask if the time came.

The two of you had woken up way before the sun this morning.

If anyone other than Bradley had asked you to wake up before 5 AM to go hike to watch the sunrise, you would have laughed at them. But because it was Bradley, you’d set the alarm without comment. Even though he did have to gently pry you out of his roommate’s bed- with the fresh sheets he told you he bought especially for your visit- and lace up your shoes for you.

The views at Humpback Rock had been worth the hour hike up to the outcrop of craggy rocks. The sunrise painted them a stunning shade of soft orange as the rays illuminated evergreen covered hills and valleys that extended in front of you to the skyline. You and Bradley watched it in silence, shoulders pressed against each other  as you took it all in.

You’re cozied up on your bed for the week, flipping through a book you’d brought with you, but hadn’t touched at all until now when Bradley comes back from the showers. His hair is still damp and the ends are starting to curl a bit.  

He drops a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the nightstand next to you.

You hadn’t been sure what rooming with him would be like, the two of you together 24/7 since his roommate had left to go home for the break.  But it felt like you were two kids at sleepaway camp getting away with mischief rather than two broke college students only pretending to get away with mischief.

He sits down at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his thighs, “So.”

“So?” you repeat, blowing on the hot coffee before taking a sip.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been up with you?”

You wince, and it’s not because the coffee tastes like tar. 

“What do you mean?” you try to ask casually.

Bradley gives you a look that says you don’t fool me, kid. “You’ve been squirrely. I didn’t want to press it, but I can tell there’s something on your mind.” He takes a sip of his own milky battery acid. “Are classes going better since you switched majors?”

You nod, looking anywhere else other than at him.

“How are things with your Dad?”

You offer him a shrug.

He sighs your name in exasperation. You can tell he is trying to tamper his frustration at your lack of cooperation.

“Is it a guy?” Bradley tries again.

You swear you feel your heart stop, because you knew what you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know how he was going to take it.

You fiddle with a string on his roommate’s comforter. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” you admit, tentatively, “But I’m nervous.”

Bradley’s eyebrows pull together as he sets his coffee aside, “C’mon, it’s just me. You can talk to me about anything.”

“It’s more of a question.” One you’re still deflecting from asking.

“Ok, well you know you can ask me anything.” His tiny dorm room feels even smaller as the two of you try to read the other’s face.

Taking a deep breath, you ask the question that’s been rattling around in your brain for weeks.

“Bradley, I was wondering if you’d be my first?”

Less than ten words. That’s all it takes to tilt Bradley’s world off its axis.

He’s loved getting to show you around UVA this week. It wasn’t where he thought he’d end up, but he hadn’t lost sight of where he was going. He was going to be a Naval Aviator one way or another. He just also got to have a normal college experience too, one he’d been excited to share with you.

Bradley had originally been invited to go stay with one of his friends at his family’s beach house, but when you called and asked about coming to visit Charlottesville, it was an easy choice for him. He’d pick you every time.

It had been even better getting to cross off some of the things on the bucket list he’d made for his Senior Year with you in tow, like the hike he’d taken you on this morning.

He loves the views from up there and thought it would be something you’d like too, but he’d never done the hike early enough to catch the sunrise before. It was actually something he was planning on going the morning of graduation as a symbolic way to end his time at UVA, but getting to do it with you was special in its own way.

And while he’d caught you lost in thought more than a few times over the last few days as he showed you around, he never in a million years would have ever expected you to ask him that.

Bradley knows all the words you just used, but they don’t make sense to him in that order.

His brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out if there is any possible way he could have misinterpreted you.

“Your first…”

You take another deep breath and tip your chin up in resolve before looking him dead in the eye, there’s so much vulnerability reflected in them, “I haven’t had sex before, Bradley. And I’m really hoping that my first time can be with you.”

Bradley wants to tell you to put your Styrofoam cup down because he’s worried the tight grip you have on it might crush it, but he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

He didn’t realize when his leg started bouncing until he sees you glance down at it.

Shooting to his feet and off his bed, he goes to lean against his recently decluttered desk. There’s too much restless energy coursing through him to just sit like he isn’t completely reeling. 

“Shouldn’t you want to do this with someone special? Like with rose petals and all that shit?” He scrubs a hand over his face. Rose petals and all that shit? God, he sounds like such a fucking dumbass, but he’s struggling to keep up.

And if he’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty surprised to learn you’re still a virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but he knows you’ve had at least one serious boyfriend since you’ve gone to college. He figured that you got asked out all the time. He saw the way that some of the guys in his buddy’s frat were looking at the pretty girl with the dimples and big smile.

The girl who just asked him to be her first.

He hates the way your shoulders have slumped forward, like you’re trying not to cave in on yourself, “So, you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that.” His answer takes him by surprise.

The only other sound in the room other than his pounding heart is the whir of the air circulating in his dorm. 

“Would it help to make a pro con list?” you offer, less than helpfully with a little shrug.

“Jesus Christ,” Bradley mutters under his breath, looking up at the speckled ceiling trying to decode the flecks like tea leaves. “She’s cracking jokes like she didn’t ask me to make her come.”

“Technically, I didn’t say anything about that. I just asked you to be my first.”

“I’m not taking your virginity and not giving you an orgasm,” he states, and your eyes get wide. He runs his hands through his hair. “Sex makes things complicated, kid. We’ve got a good friendship.”

You sit up straighter on his roommate’s bed and bring your knees to your chest. It exposes the backs of your thighs and he has to shake the mental images of skin on skin out of his head.

There’s a look on your face that tells him you feel ridiculous even asking him, “Do you think you’re going to fall in love with me or something?”

“No,” Bradley says, honestly.

He knows you’re just trying to make a point.

The two of you have been friends for over a decade. He knows he cares about you- he always has- but he couldn’t imagine what anything other than just friendship would look like with you.

You nod in agreement, like you had been anticipating the answer before you’d even asked him the question.

“And do you think I’m going to fall in love with you?” you ask, your head tilting to the side.

He doesn’t even blink, “You can do better than me.”

And he means it.

Even if there was something more between the two of you, you’ve always been too good for him. And knowing him, he’d find a way to fuck it up. You’re the last person in the world he’d ever want to hurt. He’d let you down before, he doesn’t want to do it ever again.

You shoot him a disappointed look, like you don’t like hearing him say that about himself. And he’s oddly touched that you’re defending him against himself. 

“You’d literally be doing me a favor.”

Bradley is still surprised that he hasn’t ended this conversation yet. The two of you were supposed to go to the movies, but that definitely wasn’t happening now.

“I’m not saying no,” he says, “But I need you to help me understand. Why me? Why now?”

“Bradley, I want it to be with you because there’s no one else I’ll ever feel as comfortable with as I do with you,” you explain.

He watches as you unfold yourself and climb off the bed, coming to stand in front of him. You gingerly reach out and put your hand on his forearm, like you don’t want to startle him. Not that he’d be able to move anyways since it feels like the soles of his feet are cemented to the floor.

“I keep waiting for it to not feel like such a big thing, but every time it seems like it’s going to happen, I freeze. And I know you’d take care of me, and I’m not talking about orgasms.” You stumble over the word a bit, not fully meeting his eyes as you say it. “It’s scary enough as a girl and I’m worried I’m going to be too in my head with anyone else. But I also don’t want to look back and have any regrets, and I know I wouldn’t have any with you.”

The mention of regrets makes his stomach twinge. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

You are looking at him with such open sincerity. He has never been good with talking about his feelings, he’s always been the type to bottle things up, while you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. It was just another way that you were braver than him.

“I know it’s a lot,” you say, letting go of him to take a step back, like you want to give him breathing room, “So if it’s too big of an ask. Or if it’s not something you’re comfortable with-”

Bradley shakes his head cutting you off, “It’s not that at all, kid. I just haven’t done this before.” Your eyebrow scrunches together in confusion. “I mean, I have,” he corrects, “But it’s not the same. All the girls I’ve been with had already had experience. And if we were going to do this, I would want to make sure it’s as nice for you as it can be.”

“So you’d be my first and I’d be yours? Well, kind of.” You give him a little smile, it’s a shy but hopeful thing. There’s only a hint of your dimples, but it’s enough. And he feels that practical part of him that had been holding back soften at the sight of it.

He doesn’t think he’s ever said no to you, excluding the times you tried to get him to give you his beer at the house parties he took you to in high school, and that was more out of self-preservation from a healthy fear of your mom than anything else.

When you wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift? He took you to the abandoned parking lot, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have your learner’s permit yet. When you wanted to learn how to throw a punch? He was making sure you knew not to tuck your thumb under your fingers, so that you didn’t break your own thumb instead of someone’s nose.

He’s always had your back and you’ve had his. That’s how it was between the two of you.

You’ve already said it, but he needs to hear it again, “You really want to do it?”

“I really want it to be you, Bradley. I really want to do this with you. I trust you the most.”

He’s always been willing to help you with anything you’ve ever asked of him, why should this be any different? What’s a couple orgasms between friends?

“Ok,” Bradley nods. If it’s to reassure you or himself, he couldn’t say. “I’ll do it. We can do it.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, like you were fully prepared for him to let you down gently, “Really?”

You didn’t ask for his why he was agreeing, but he was going to give it to you anyway.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I lost mine to Samantha Prescod after the game against Centennial that got us a spot at State that year,” he waits until he sees the recognition cross your face before continuing, “But I had also just learned about my mom’s diagnosis and I was trying to find anything I could do to not think about it.” He rubs at a spot underneath his collarbone, it never got any easier talking about his mom. “I think she assumed that I’d done it before, because we didn’t really talk about it. She was there and into it, so it just sort of happened. Actually, I’m pretty sure she only slept with me because she wanted to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, because they got back together like three days later.”

It’s probably for the best that Samantha Prescod lives on the other side of the country now because you look livid. Your eyes spark with anger and disbelief on his behalf.

“It was years ago, it’s fine, kid” he shrugs, trying to brush off your concern. “But if I had a do-over, I don’t know if I’d make the same choice again. And that’s not something I’d ever want for you.” You deserve the rose petals, but he’ll do his best for you. “So we can do it, but I have one condition.”

The relief on your face and the way the tension in your shoulder releases only solidifies his decision.

“Tell me,” you say, taking a half-step towards him, “I want you to be comfortable too.”

Bradley pushes off his desk and meets you the rest of the way, “If you even think you’re feeling uncomfortable- about any of it- I need you to tell me. And we’ll stop and figure out where to go from there. If it’s a change of position, if it’s a full stop and order pizza instead, we’ll do that.” He pauses and reaches out to tip your chin up. “I’ll do whatever you need, got it?”

You throw your arms around him, and his wrap around you just as easily. Your hair smells like the travel sized shampoo he’d picked up for you, figuring you wouldn’t want to use his 2-in-1. You murmur your thank you into his shirt followed by a fuck Samantha Prescod that makes him squeeze you just a bit tighter to him in affection.

When you step back and look at him, your lips twitch upwards, “What’s with the look, Bradshaw? Don’t tell me you’re going to lie back and think of England?”

That makes him chuckle, your joke lightening the mood in only the way that you can do. He rolls his eyes in equal parts exasperation and fondness.

“God, I haven’t been this nervous since I lost my own virginity. I was so stressed I was going to blow my load in two pumps and lose my street cred.”

You snort and send him a smirk, “Well, you must have done just fine. I overheard some glowing reviews in the girl’s bathroom on more than one occasion.”

“I maybe lasted ten trusts, but I had the good sense to eat her out after,” he admits, and then tacks on for good measure, “I’ve gotten better since then.”

“What a stud,” you tease.

This is easier, this feels like the two of you. This should be fun, it shouldn’t feel serious. He can make it good for you.

You look up at him shyly from under your lashes, “So how do we do this?”

He feels like he only just wrapped his head around the idea of it, but now he was facing the very real possibility of seeing you very naked very soon.

“You want to do it now?” Bradley blinks.

“I mean, if you’re up for it.” You scrunch your nose when you realize you’ve made a terrible double entendre. “No pun intended, I promise.”  

He wipes his hands on his pants.

“You sure?” he asks again.

“I’m sure, Bradley. As long as you are too.”

He nods, “Then I guess we just…”

He’s not sure where he was going to go with that. But he’s spared from being roasted by you for making some sure to be lame birthday suit joke because you’re untying the bow on the soft lounge shorts you’d thrown on after your shower from the hike, and all the words get trapped in his throat.

You don’t look at Bradley as you slide your shorts down your legs. And you definitely don’t look at him when you pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in only a soft green mesh bra and your cotton underwear. They’re mismatched, but sex with Bradley wasn’t originally on the Spring Break To-Do List agenda for today.

In fact, you hadn’t even been sure you were going to go through with asking him until he brought up the point that he knew you had something on your mind because you apparently had no poker face.

While it felt like you had a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach, you also knew wholeheartedly that this was the right choice for you. Everything he had said had solidified that for you.

You weren’t sure how you were ever going to thank him for this, but you had a lifetime of friendship with Bradley to figure it out.

His room cast in the soft afternoon light, the blinds only partly closed. There are little streaks of gold that line the plaid comforter on his bed. He’d been right, Charlottesville had stayed sunny just for you.

As you climb into it and situate yourself against his pillows, you can help but notice just how much his bed smells like him. It’s not the spicy scent you associated with the High School version of him. The woodsy and warm scent embedded in the threads of his sheets suits this grown up version of him.

You feel equal parts overdressed and underdressed in your bra and underwear. You know the latter are going to come off eventually, so you make a split-second decision to just take them off yourself under his covers. The idea of Bradley helping you to pull them off later seems like it would be too intimate based on the way the thought of it makes your cheeks heat up.

It’s practical, you’re being practical, you think to yourself.

You chance a peek at him and are surprised to see that he hasn’t budged an inch. It’s almost like he is waiting for you to get completely settled before he dares to move a muscle. His eyes are trained on the pile of your clothes on the floor, he looks lost in thought.

“Bradley?”

The sound of your voice seems to kickstart him into action.

He shucks off his shirt in that kind of reckless way that seems to be ingrained in boys and then unbuttons his pants. You’re torn between feeling like you should give him privacy and wanting to watch. What you were expecting is the way he takes the time to pick his clothes up before folding them over the back of the chair at his desk.

Your mouth goes dry as you take in the sight of his body, the diffused light perfectly outlines the shape of him. His broad shoulders are rounded with the muscles he’s gained from whatever exercises the NROTC has been putting him through. Your eyes dip down to his defined chest and over the ridges of his abs. You’ve seen him in swim trunks plenty of times, but seeing the way the muscles of his thick thighs fill out the black boxer briefs he was wearing was entirely new to you.

Bradley approaches you and then pauses as he bends down to collect your pile of clothes on the floor, his hand hesitating only for a second when he reaches for your underwear. He drapes all of your things on top of his on the chair and makes his way back to you.

The gesture makes you melt a little like a soft serve ice cream cone on a summer afternoon.

You lift the corner of the cover for Bradley and he climbs in next to you. You move closer to the wall, trying to make more room for the bulk of him in his small bed, and he shifts in even closer into you until your bodies pressed tight against one another. The curves and angles of the two of you slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.

It feels like the two of you are teetering there on the edge of something. You both know exactly where it’s going, but are unsure of how to make it from Point A to Point B. Both waiting on the other person to make the first move.

He rests his warm hand on your stomach, the muscles there jumping on their own under his touch in anticipation. Your faces are close since you’re sharing his pillow. His brown eyes are searching yours, probably looking for any sign of hesitation that you don’t feel.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.” It’s not a question, but a request.

“Overwhelmed,” you admit, “But in a good way.” He runs his palm lightly up your stomach and back down, soothingly.

“Good, that’s good,” Bradley says, clearing his throat, “You’re supposed to feel a little ‘overwhelmed, but in a good way.’” You feel your lips pull up at his gentle teasing.

He smiles softly at you. His face has always been so familiar to you. The pink from his scars have finally faded, but you wonder when his eyes start crinkling around the corners.

You let go of the comforter to run a finger down the top of his nose, “I don’t know how this has stayed so straight.” He’d been in more than a couple fights in his teen years, including one that had sent him through a sliding glass door.

“Probably the combination of a little luck and the fact that none of those guys could throw a punch,” Bradley smirks. He shifts on his side, propping himself up on an elbow looking down at you, still running his hand along your stomach. “What have you done so far?”

His fingertips circle your bellybutton and your stomach swoops like it’s on the swing carousel ride at the fair.

“Some over the clothes stuff…” you stammer. You’re having trouble focusing because all your attention is on his big hand and how it feels against your oversensitive skin. “And I have a vibrator, but ah…”

You’re so keenly aware of his hand. With every lazy circle he makes, he has you wondering if this is going to be the one where he finally moves his hand lower. That part of you in flutters in expectation because you know it’s coming.

You let out a shaky huff when his fingers trails back up your stomach.

“What is it?” Bradley’s hand stops moving. “What are you thinking?”

“Honestly?” you say, trying not to squirm, “I’m getting really horny and you keep teasing me.”

He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at your overshare, and there’s amusement in his eyes.

“You know, some people call it foreplay,” he drawls. You’d roll your eyes but his fingertips are by your bellybutton again and you want him to keep going. “You ready for more?” You nod a few times because if he doesn’t touch you soon you might just crawl out of your skin. “Ok, gonna stop ‘teasing’ you now.”

This time his hand doesn’t stop at your bellybutton, it keeps moving down, down.

You stutter over a breath when Bradley’s fingers touch your clit. You feel yourself melt a little further into his mattress. He’s making easy circles, letting you get used to someone’s fingers other than your own on the most sensitive part of you. Your hands are clutching tightly to his comforter, unsure of what else to do with them.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me,” he murmurs. You feel your face heat up. He’d just given you a direction, but it sounds almost indecent coming out of his mouth.

You shift, moving your legs apart further for him, until he secures your left between his own, opening you up even more. You know you’re wet and now he does too. Bradley’s fingers slide easily over you as he increases the pressure on your clit. You can feel the intensity of his gaze on you watching for your reaction as he figures out what you like the most.

It doesn’t take him long to learn your body. You don’t know whether to be impressed with him or embarrassed with yourself at how quickly he’s worked you up.

Your breathing feels so loud in your ears in the quiet room, every breath and sigh is amplified. There’s a certain thrill in not knowing how he’s going to touch you next, your own fingers pale in comparison now.

His warm breath coasts down the side of your neck causing you to shiver at the sensation. It makes goosebumps break out along your arms and your nipples pull taut.

He notices. Of course he notices.

“Are you cold?” His voice is low in your ear.

“No, I-” Oh god, you’re right there. “B-bradley, I’m-” You’ve made yourself orgasm plenty of times, but you’ve never shared that part of yourself with anyone else before. No one knows what you sound like or what you look like when you come. But now, Bradley was going to have the piece of you too. A whine escapes you without your permission.

“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you.”

You’re seeking and searching, but it’s Bradley’s fingers that have the answer.

And you come with your stomach twitching and hips jerking as he murmurs praise in your ear.

His fingers slow down, featherlight on your clit, but your heart is still racing when he rasps, “There’s one, you up for another?”

Bradley loves that moment during sex when he hears that first gasp or moan. He loves learning what sounds of satisfaction he can pull from his partner. He loves knowing he earned it. But he never in his life could have ever anticipated hearing those sounds from you.

In his bed. Because of him.

He didn’t expect the lick of heat that curled up his spine at the shape of your legs and the curve of your ass as you were stepping out of your shorts. He’d never seen anything so strangely endearing as it was watching you shimmy your underwear off under the shield of his covers.

Every hitch in your breath made his blood run hotter in his veins. He was trying to control his cock, but he’d started getting hard the second you’d pulled your shirt off. Your bra was some kind of sheer thing that left nothing to the imagination, and while he wasn’t trying to check you out- because that’s not how it was between the two of you- he couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered down.

You’re slippery, wet, and warm. And he knows he can make you come again.

“Do you want me to use my fingers now?”

You crack an eye open at him, it’s the first time you’ve opened your eyes since he first touched you. Your eyes are bright in that way that only comes with an orgasm. “I thought you already were.”

“Such a smartass,” he grins.

Bradley changes the unhurried circles he’d been making on your clit to the upstroke that made your hips jerk up into his hand the first time he’d tried it. The little noises you’re making have him fighting the urge to grind himself against you for some relief of his own. He’s still got your knee tucked between his own; where there had been a hint of polite space between your bodies, the way you’re writhing now has him pressed up against your hip.

You gasp, breathily, “Oh, you’re hard.” The disbelief is evident in your voice, but it’s the look in your eyes that he doesn’t know what to make of, something like surprise.

He’s been trying to be a gentleman, this is about you and not him. There might not be anything romantic happening between the two of you, but this was hot and he was more than a little turned on. And he knows you are too because he can feel how wet you are under his fingers.

“’Course I am,” Bradley says, nudging his nose against your temple, “I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed half naked.” He didn’t want you to feel like you were in this on your own, so he lightly rocks against you. He wants you to feel him, he wants you to know he is into this too. “Are you ready more?”

“I’m ready, I want more,” you confirm, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Your breath hitches as he teases you with just the tip of his finger.

He’s been told before he has big hands and thick fingers, he’s always taken it as a compliment in the past, but now he’s scanning your face for any trace of discomfort as he sinks one into you.

Your eyebrows twitch then smooth out and your mouth drops open as he starts pumping his finger into you in a smooth rhythm.

“That feels nice,” you sigh, airily.

He knows you like it when your hips tip up just a fraction. His comforter is bunched around your waist and your nipples are peaked against the see-through fabric of your bra. He gets his thumb on your clit and you whimper as you tentatively roll your hips against his fingers.

Bradley hums his approval, “Atta girl. There you go, find what feels good for you.” His voice sounds low even to his own ears, a throaty rumble. He feels you clench around his fingers and it sets his pulse racing. It’s a piece of information he tucks away for himself.

He’s gentle on your clit, but now that he knows you’re into it he’s setting a more purposeful pace with his fingers.

You’ve got your bottom lip pinned between your teeth, like you’re trying to swallow down your sounds. He didn’t realize how much he liked hearing these new sounds from you until you started trying to muffle them. On the next slide of his finger into you, he knows exactly what he’s looking for.

You suck in a sharp breath of surprise when he finds it.

“Is that the right spot, kid?” He sounds so smug. You curse and your hand clutches at his shoulder. “You want to try a second finger?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Yes,” you rock into his hand, “Yes, please.”

“Whatever you want, Miss Manners.” His chest feels like he’s taken a shot of Fireball. “You’re so polite when you’re trying to get your way.”

“I’m always polite,” you challenged weakly, pressing your head further into his pillow.

“Mhm,” he indulges, fondly, “You’re the sweetest girl I know.”

And then he fills you with two fingers.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you gasp, offering more of yourself to him.

Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder as he lets your whimpers and whines guide his hands.

The two of you have your eyes fixed on the way the tendons of the visible part of his forearm are flexing before it disappears under the covers as he works you.

Bradley curls his fingers into that spongy part of you and your hand flies to his wrist, gripping him tight. It makes him pause, worried that he might have pushed you too far too fast.

“No, no. D-don’t stop,” you plead, desperately, “I’m so close. Keep going, please.” You squeeze his wrist encouragingly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he soothes. He focuses his efforts on that spot again now that he knows you weren’t wanting him to slow down, but rather trying to hold him in place. His fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit working in tandem to get you there again.

“I just- yes. Like that. Oh fuck. Keep doing that. Oh my god. Please, Bradley.”

He’s heard you say his name a lot of different ways, but never like this.

Your back arches and you twist yourself towards him, burying your face against him and keening into the hollow of his throat as you come around his fingers.

You jerk and writhe into his hand, your knee slips free of his and your thighs clamp together around him. Bradley rolls off the arm he’d been leaning on and brings it to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer and holding you to him as he steadily works you through it until you’re loose-limbed in his arms.

He waits until your rapid pants have evened out before he slips his fingers from you. The displeased sound that you make makes the corners of his mouth twitch. He should have known you’d be bossy. He rubs gentle circles into the divots at the base of your neck as you come down.

Bradley can feel your lips graze the side of his neck when you finally speak, “So, um, let me know if you need a letter of recommendation or anything. I’d be happy to pass one along to your next partner.” You languidly prop yourself up on his chest and he notes with pride that you look a little flushed. “But, seriously, I get it now.”

He huffs a laugh as he toys with the end of your hair, “I’m glad it lived up to the hype. Well, at least that part of it.”

You press your lips together like you’re deciding something, tracing idle shapes on his stomach, and he can’t decide if he thinks you’re doing it without realizing it or if you’re the one doing the teasing this time. Your eyes flick down to his visibly hard cock and he feels his face heat up, “Can I?”

“Do you want to?” Bradley wants this experience to be everything you need and want it to be, but something about the tables turning here and the idea of you being the one to touch him like that makes his heart pound.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you softly tell him, resting your chin on your shoulder. The tender way you’re looking at him makes his teeth ache.

“Ok, but only for a little bit,” he agrees. Bradley knows he’s walking a tightrope with this, he’s aching and more than ready to be touched, but he doesn’t want to come all over your hand.

He plants his feet into his mattress and lifts his hips enough to pull off his boxer briefs, sighing in relief as his cock bobs free.

“That can’t be average,” you mutter under your breath.

He doesn’t know if you meant to have said it out loud but he smirks all the same, “I’ve never been average a day in my life, kid, Grade A student here.”

A groan slips out of him as your tentative fingers grasp his cock. There’s a lack of finesse in the way you touch him, your hand isn’t nearly as well-practiced as his own. He wraps his hand over yours, guiding your strokes as he shows you just what he likes.

“You can grip it a little firmer,” he coaches. You nod studiously, like you’re going to be tested on it later. Together the two of you work him from root to tip.

Bradley had never given much thought to his size until now. He knew he was big, but seeing that your thumb couldn’t reach the tips of your fingers when your hand was curved around him was an ego boost he didn’t know he needed.

You get more confident with every glide up and down the length of him. Your tricky thumb sweeps over the tip, collecting what precum had gathered there, and it makes your hand slide easier over him. When he accidentally thrusts into your hand, you grin and there are those dimples again.

“Ok, ok,” he blows out a shaky breath, stilling your hand with his. “We gotta stop or I’m going to come. And I’m not about to be a one pump chump.”

“It sounded like you’re more of a ten pump chump, if I remember correctly,” you tease, looking all too pleased with yourself. “Don’t worry, Bradshaw, your street cred is safe with me.”

He shakes his head in amused disbelief, “You’re such a goddamn menace. I knew I shouldn’t have told you that part.” He surprises the both of you when he wraps an arm around you and rolls to pin you under him.

And it’s like all the air is sucked out of the room because your thighs are cradling his hips and his cock is resting heavy on your stomach.

Neither one of you dare to move. He’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right now, he feels out of his depth as he watches you watching him.

His tongue feels thick in his mouth, “Are you on-”

You nod before he even finishes the question.

“Do you have-”

He nods before you finish yours.

“What did you promise me?” he prompts, squeezing the dip of your waist.

You hold up your pinky to him, “I’ll tell you.” He wraps his own crooked one around yours and gives it a shake.

Bradley doesn’t know what comes over him, but he drops a kiss to your shoulder as he reaches over you into the drawer of his nightstand to fish out what he needs. He’s thankful when you don’t comment on it because he wouldn’t even know how to explain it.

He leans back on his knees and rolls the condom on with practiced ease, then flicks open the cap to the bottle of lube he’s also grabbed and drizzles it over his cock.

“Am I not…” you trail off. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound this shy with him before.

“You’re plenty wet,” he assures you, pumping himself- once, twice- just enough to coat himself, “But this’ll be good too. I think you’ll like it.”

Bradley settles back over you, one arm braced by your head and the other on your hip, as your hands come up to rest lightly on either side of his ribcage. He rocks against you to demonstrate; the head of his cock nudges your clit with each silky pass. You exhale heavily at the sensation as he eases you into the motion of it, as he shows you what it’s like with another person.

You’re holding him close, and in just a moment the two of you will be the closest two people can be.

He makes only enough room to reach down between your bodies, only looks away from your face long enough to line himself up with you. There is such trust in your eyes as you gaze up at him, it’s not something Bradley takes for granted.

You nod, your fingers stroking his sides.

God, does he want this to be good for you.

He takes a breath.

And then he’s shifting forward and pressing in.

Bradley thrusts into you with all the careful gentleness you’d expect from him.

His thumb skimming along your forehead as he pushes in, in, in.

When he found that spot inside of you with his fingers, you thought you were going to fly away from the intensity of it, but then he’d pulled you into the safety of his arms and you felt like you could fall apart because he’d be keeping the pieces of you together.

He’s been so good to you. He is so good to you. He’s the best person you know.

The more of him he gives you, the less you feel like you can catch your breath.

You feel hot, hot all over. And much fuller than you’ve ever been.

Some sound must make its way out of you because Bradley offers you a low soothing noise before you feel his lightly chapped lips against your temple.

There’s something about this that reminds you of the time he tried to teach you how to skateboard. Always waited until you told him you were ready, until you found your balance. He’d held your hand as you cautiously rolled along the sidewalk, you were less worried about falling with him by your side. Only this time, his hand is on your waist and the only movements are his hips against yours as he rocks into you.

Little by little. Inch by inch.

You clutch at his biceps at the slight stinging sensation and you feel him hesitate.

“It’s just a lot,” you whisper. His fingers flex on your waist.

“You’re doing so good, just a bit more,” Bradley murmurs, encouragingly.

There’s pressure, there’s a give, and then there’s relief when his hips finally, finally meet yours.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath.

Your eyes had flickered shut somewhere along the way. You open them to see that Bradley’s face and chest are flushed pink, the muscle of his jaw flexing. The furrow between his eyebrows is so deep that you release your grip on him to smooth out the lines with an unsteady fingertip.

He reads the question in your eyes.

“You’re just really tight,” he grits out, voice strained.

You assumed that was a good thing, but he’s holding himself so tense above you that now you’re not sure. “Do I-,” you fumble over the words, “Does this feel good for you?”

He huffs an incredulous laugh, and brushes back some hair from off your face, “You feel really fucking good, sweet-”

Your whimper cuts him off when he pulls out a fraction and then pushes back in.

His brown eyes take you in as he does it again, more this time. Pulling out just a bit- just enough- and then filling you again. The discomfort fading more with each thrust as he guides his hips to yours until yours are tilting up to meet his seeking more.

It’s a conversation between your bodies, the give and the take of it all as Bradley introduces you to this new unspoken language. You feel yourself flutter around his cock, stretched wider than you’ve ever been.

You feel that heat spreading underneath your skin again as he surely and steadily pumps into you. It feels like your nerves are on fire. You didn’t expect to even come once and you’re well on your way to a third.

He reaches down and hooks your leg over his hip. His hand slides up along the outside of your thigh and under your ass, tilting your hips up towards his even more. He’s so much deeper like this. Your hands slide into his hair, tugging at his curls.

“Bradley, I-I think… I feel-”

 “You’re gonna come,” he rasps, nodding at you. Encouraging, coaxing.

He grinds his pelvis against your clit with every deliciously slow roll into you.

Your mouth drops open at the feel of it, it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You don’t think your faces have ever been closer than they are now. Bradley is breathing your air, and you’re breathing his. Bradley’s pupils are blown wide, his heavy-lidded eyes are locked on yours. You didn’t know there could be so many shades of brown. His curls are a mess and it’s all because of you. He licks his lips and your breath catches in your throat when his eyes dart down to your parted mouth.

His next thrust into you hits that spot inside of you just so right that it has you gasping.

It’s so good, it’s too good, it’s overwhelming.

You wrap your arms around his neck clinging to him, your face buried against him. Bradley drops his head to your shoulder, you feel his lips brush against your clavicle. Your head moves away on instinct, making more room for him if he wants to do it again.

You get lost in the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the places you’ve heard about and read about, but have never felt for yourself until now. He’s still got your ass gripped in his hand, whereas your hands can’t stay in one spot. They’re tangled in his hair, running over his shoulders and down his abs, gliding over his back aided by the sheen of sweat he’s worked up.

You’re not trying to hold yourself back, but it feels like you’re standing on the tallest diving board at the pool, your toes curled around the edge, but still too nervous about the drop to jump.

“C’mon, kid. You’re right there,” he breathes hard, “I need you to come for me. Just one more.”

He gets his fingers back on your clit and it’s the end of you. Your back is arching so much you think you might snap. Your toes curl so tights they may never unfurl. The force your orgasm overtakes you, demanding everything you have up to offer and then some.

You hear Bradley’s moan as you pulse around his cock, trembling under him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. His hips stutter against yours, finally losing that steady rhythm he’d set, you pull him tighter to you and it’s not long until he comes too.

It’s all white noise. All you can feel is your heartbeat pounding, until little pieces of the world come back into focus.

The hum of the fan.

The beam of warm afternoon light through the blinds.

The smell of the now cold coffee on his nightstand.

In the after, you’re all too aware of every place your body is touching Bradley’s.

He’d somehow managed to roll on his back and had taken you with him. He was literally just inside of you, but yet it feels like your leg draped over his thigh is somehow more intimate. A prickly self-conscious feeling settles over you. Unsure of what the rules were for friends who just had sex, you attempt to peel yourself off of him, but the heavy arm over your waist keeps you in place.

“Come back here, kid,” Bradley mumbles, his eyes still closed, “I need to cuddle after I come, so I’m gonna need you to indulge me here for a moment.” He strokes a soothing hand down your back. And while he says it’s for him, you know he’s still trying to take care of you.

He hums when you lay back down. You set a hand on his chest. He reaches for it with his free one and threads your fingers together. It makes you melt further into him.

You feel a little different. But mostly, you feel like a weight you didn’t know you’d been carrying had been lifted off of you.

Your first time was everything you hoped it would be. You were safe and cared for, and you already knew, you’d never have any regrets about it. And it was all because of him.

“Thank you, Bradley,” you say, softly.

“Anything for you, kid.”

Your early morning catches up with you as you lay there, warm and secure. Your eyelids get heavier with each pass of Bradley’s hand along your spine. And you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat under your ear.

You’re still you. And Bradley is still Bradley.

It was just… something between friends.

A few hours later the two of you are still in his bed.

Only now you’re clothed and swapping the cartons of Chinese food that he’d ordered while you’d napped against his chest, and fighting over the fortune cookies watching some reruns of old sitcoms. You couldn’t hear their laugh tracks over your own.

The last couple of days you had at UVA fly by just as quickly.

You don’t know how, but the two of you managed to cross of all the things on his Spring Break To-Do List. And before you knew it you were back at the airport.

Bradley had insisted on walking you in, wanting to see you off.

Neither one of you has ever been good with goodbyes. So you don’t give him one, instead you reach for your bag and tell him, “Ok, see you in June.”

Bradley doesn’t let go, clearly confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

You grin because it feels like a checkmate.

“You didn’t think you’d be getting that diploma all by yourself, did you?”

He looks thunderstruck.

You and your mom already had the plane tickets and hotel room booked. Your stepdad wouldn’t be able to come, but he was planning on sending your mom with one of the cakes from his family’s bakery. You’d been tasked with finding out what flavor, carrot cake or peanut butter- Bradley’s two favorites- but you could iron out the details with him later.

You’d had a busy week, plus it was more fun this way.

Bradley tugs you into his arms, yours wrap around him just as easily as they always have.

“June?” he asks into the crown of your head.

“June,” you promise.

And when he lets you go- for real this time- it’s with a smile that takes up his whole face.

He doesn’t say goodbye either, “Be good, kid. See you in June.”

𝐍𝐎𝐖

You avoid Rooster for the rest of the night.

And Jake too, for that matter. Bless Javy for finding ways to distract him because you could tell than man was chomping at the bit for more details. But you’d already given him more than enough.

You could have lied, you probably should have lied. It might have been easier than feeling like you’d hung up part of yourself on the drying line for everyone to see. But in that moment, the thought of lying and saying anyone else’s name other than Rooster’s had made your stomach turn.

Because it was the truth, he was your first, but he was also your best.

When you come out of the bathroom, there’s no missing Rooster. He’s leaning against the wall by the entrance. It takes him a moment to notice you since he looks lost in thought, but when he does you feel pinned to the wall by the intense look in his eyes.

He stands to his full height as you approach, you know he wants to talk about it.

You shake your head at him, “We don’t need to do this.”

“No, kid, we really do.” He takes you by the arm and leads you to a quieter spot away from everyone else.

“It was just a game,” you start before he can, “And now I know more about everyone’s sex life than I ever wanted to.” He crosses his arms over his chest at your attempt at deflection. “Look, I’m really sorry if that was something you wanted to keep a secret or just between us. I should have asked you first if that was ok to share.”

“I don’t care about that.” Rooster waves you off and takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “All this time and I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

“Are we really doing this? Here and now?”

You peer around him to look and see if anyone is watching the two of you, it feels like a showdown. But all the Daggers are occupied, probably on purpose. You’ve never seen Mickey with such a serious look of concentration on his face.

“Here and now,” he confirms.

You feel flustered, “Rooster, it’s been 12 years and we haven’t talked about it once-”

“Bradley,” he cuts you off. He takes another step towards you, so you’re toe to toe with him. “I’ve always been Bradley to you.”

The tension that had crept up in your shoulders releases a bit.

“Bradley,” you say, softly. “Listen, I’ve had a lot of good sex since then. Great sex even.” He presses his lips together and nods. “And with other men, if I felt like they weren’t putting in their best effort I’d kick them out because the bar was set very high early on.”

You see him fight back a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, with pride.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, you know he hears it because his eyes take on a richer shade of brown. You both feel the shift, tension churning between the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “But I was telling the truth when I said you were my best. Probably because of the way you made sure I knew that you cared. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just different with you.”

You feel his finger graze the back of your hand.

The sounds of the Hard Deck fade into the background as you stare at each other. Entire conversations are being had as you look into his eyes and he looks into yours. Words and sentences spoken with glances.

Just friends don’t look at each other like this.

“It’s never been like this,” you whisper, “We’ve never been like this before.” You gesture at how close he is to you.

How he’s almost got you backed up against a wall.

How he’s looking at you like you’re his.

“I know.”

He says your name and your heart somersaults in your chest.

“I want to see your tattoo. I keep finding myself looking for it when we’re all at the beach. And then I get annoyed, knowing that people have seen it and I haven’t.”

“My tattoo? Bradley, what-”

“I want to see your tattoo,” he repeats like it’s a fact. “And I want to punch Seresin in his smug face every time he flirts with you.”

You roll your eyes, “Jake doesn’t flirt with me, not really. He just likes riling you up.”

“What if I said I wanted to try this as more than friends.” Bradley settles a large hand on your hip. “What if I said that since you’ve moved here I’ve had a hard time keeping my head on straight.”

“Bradley.” His name falls out of your mouth so easily now that it can.

“I want to take you home with me. I want to kiss you. I want to make you come. I need to know if you sound the same in my bed. And then I want to take you out for breakfast and buy whatever fancy coffee you want and as many pancakes as you can eat.”

You’ve been told that you wear your heart on your sleeve, but he has always worn his on his face. There’s no mistaking the open want on his face.

“Bradley, it’ll be different this time.” For so many reasons.

Because it’s not a favor being asked. It’s not some new experience being tried with the person you trust the most, with everything. You’d be on equal footing. It wouldn’t be a friend helping a friend, the two of you would be crossing that line between friends and more because you want each other in that way.

“I want it to be different, sweet girl,” he says, cupping your face in his familiar hand, “I’m ready for it to be different, if you are.”

He looks from your eyes down to your parted lips.

“We didn’t do that last time,” you whisper. Feeling brave, you reach out and run your fingers along the buttons of his shirt.

“No, we didn’t,” he agrees. His eyes are trained on his thumb as he skims it under your lip. “And that’s a damn shame.”

Bradley’s face is all you can see. Warm eyes, a still-straight nose, and a soft smile that is for you and you alone.

He dips down and your eyes flutter closed, your head tipping up on its own in anticipation.

His lips brush your cheek. It’s not enough.

You tug on his collar, but he chuckles and kisses your cheek again, lingering longer this time.

“I’m not kissing you for the first time around the corner from a bathroom,” he rasps.

You open your eyes and see the amusement in his. He always did like teasing you.

“Oh, where do you plan on doing it then?”

“Outside your front door, like a gentleman,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You can’t help but grin because Bradley Bradshaw can’t wait the extra 10 minutes it would take to drive to his place instead of yours. He wants that kiss just as badly as you do. You watch as a matching smile to yours blooms across his face.

It feels normal to slide your fingers between his much larger ones. It feels right as you lead the way out of the Hard Deck with him only a step behind you.

As it turns out, he only makes it as far as the Bronco before he’s spinning you back towards him and pressing you against it. His hands are on your hips and yours are wrapped around his neck as he kisses you for the very first time.

Bradley kisses you like a man who knows what he wants. And what he wants is you.

It’s not tentative in the way that first kisses usually are.

He kisses you like he knows you.

Because he does.

Later, when he closes the door to the Bronco for you, it feels like the end of one thing. But as he slips his fingers into yours when he backs out of the parking space it feels like the beginning of something new.

That night tangled in Bradley’s sheets- he’d kissed you at every light which made those extra 10 minutes it took to get to his home worth it- he makes your back arch and your toes curl as he makes you come with his fingers and mouth and tongue and cock. His lips dropping kiss after kiss on every part of you that he can reach. Because he can, because you want him and he wants you. 

The way he touches you tells you that he remembers it all.

He was you first, but what you wouldn’t learn until later, is that he would also be your last.

And he’d be the only man to ever have your entire heart.

Happy Birthday Jordan! An AU just for you! 💖 I adore you and I hope this year is the best one yet!

A big thank you to @callsignspark and @ofstoriesandstardust for their help and beta reading and their woogirling! I appreciate you two so much!

Author's Note: this was a "what-if" AU set in the 'Like I Can' universe! If you want to read about what really happens you can read it here!

You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun imagine #topgun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara. 

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things. 

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax. 

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration. 

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers. 

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler. 

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words. 

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers!  How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?" 

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!" 

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling. 

"I could do this all day, princesa. " 

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure. 

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit. 

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive. 

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time. 

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far. 

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him. 

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar. 

"You okay?" 

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you.  "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all." 

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two. 

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand. 

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over. 

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you. 

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass. 

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder. 

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?" 

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink. 

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar. 

He stretches out his hand, and you take it. 

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words. 

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck. 

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do. 

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him. 

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you. 

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer. 

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in. 

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness. 

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him. 

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension. 

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip. 

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck. 

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders. 

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out. 

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper. 

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile. 

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face. 

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more. 

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words. 

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is. 

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate  all your needs. 

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order. 

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk. 

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach. 

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -" 

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains. 

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary. 

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?" 

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-" 

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious . 

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body. 

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something. 

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up. 

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?" 

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression  is steady, just as unreadable. 

"Do you want to?" 

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over. 

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me." 

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust. 

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod. 

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man. 

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper. 

"Fuck, Miguel." 

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot. 

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares. 

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans. 

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters. 

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm. 

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?" 

You nod frantically with a stifled sob. 

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please." 

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?" 

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks. 

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers. 

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath. 

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought. 

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy. 

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum. 

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago. 

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process. 

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?" 

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles. 

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa." 

_

_

_

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #light angst #kat_writes😼 #miguel o hara x reader #headcanon #miguel o'hara headcanons #jealousy

[valeskafics]

"Lose For Me" - Aemond Targaryen x Hightower!Reader

a/n: felt inspiration after seeing the new posters and wrote this silly little piece based on "a knight's tale". credit to @cyeco13 for the aemond photo and @bucknastysbabe for the tourney favor 🩷

Summary: You ask Aemond to set aside his pride and do something drastic to prove his love to you.

TW: canon typical incest, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, tooth rotting fluff

Word Count: 1,750 words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

Ever since you were a girl, it was said that you had Prince Aemond wrapped around your pretty little finger. The two of you were inseparable growing up. You were sent to the Red Keep at a young age, the youngest and only daughter of Aemond’s uncle, Ser Gwaine. You were to serve as a companion for him, his nephews and brothers not being of the same temperament. You may not have had the blood of the dragon in you, but it was often said you had the spirit of one. Quick-witted, able to charm others with a mere smile and bat of your long lashes. It was no wonder Aemond was bewitched by you the moment he met you.

Many believed that the announcement of a betrothal between the two of you was imminent. However, it never came. Whenever your grandsire, Ser Otto, broached the topic with you, you evaded the subject. You danced around the topic, claiming that you were too young to think of such things. And, ever the apple of his eye, your grandsire agreed with you. Aemond, on the other hand, kept pushing for a betrothal to be made, for you to be promised to him. But, his mother convinces him that when the time is right, it will happen.

When the tourney in honor of Aegon’s one and twentieth nameday arrives, you pull Aemond to the side after supper one night, giving him that cheeky smile that he’s fallen so in love with over the years. He follows after you, his hand in yours as you pull him along to one of the Red Keep’s abandoned corridors. You beam up at him, the look in your eyes nothing short of mischievous, something he’s grown quite used to in all the years he’s known you.

“Are you participating in the tourney?” You ask, gazing up at him through your lashes, that damned smile of yours making his heart beat out of his chest.

Aemond nods, clearing his throat, “Yes. I was one of the first to declare my intention to do so. I will be the champion for House Targaryen.”

“I thought you… How did you so eloquently put it? Didn’t give ‘a shit about tourneys’?” You tease.

His cheeks flush slightly, your gentle ribbing bringing a pleasant warmth to his chest as he meets your gaze, his lips twisted into a half-smile, “Perhaps things have changed. You know that I do not believe in favors. It’s all superstitious nonsense. But this once, I shall allow myself to indulge in such a thing,” Aemond pauses before continuing, “If you will grant it to me, of course.”

“We will see,” you hum, “I had planned to give it to Lord Stark.”

Aemond lets out an annoyed huff. Cregan Stark. The nerve of you to tease him like this. And how foolish is he, to allow you to play him like a fiddle?

“Would you not be more willing to give it to me?” He asks, his voice a silken whisper, pleading with you, time standing still around the two of you as he takes your hands in his.

“Perhaps if you were to prove my affection for me, I’d give you my favor.”

“And how might I do that?” Aemond questions eagerly, his eye focused intently on you, a charming smile on his handsome face.

“Lord Stark promised to win the tournament in my honor. As did your nephew, Prince Jacaerys.” Aemond scoffs at this revelation. How many people must he compete with for your heart? Your next words, however, shock him, “I want you to lose in my honor. To set aside your pride and show me how much I mean to you. I will grant you my favor if you promise to do this, and perhaps something else should you keep your word.”

Aemond’s jaw drops. You can’t be serious. Aemond is undefeated in his training. And you want him to… Lose? His eye narrows slightly.

“How many bouts am I expected to throw?”

“All of them,” you smirk, “The melee. The joust. All of it.”

His jaw clenches in annoyance, teeth gritted as he questions, “And what, pray tell, is this ‘something else’ you are promising? How am I to be rewarded for such a bold move?”

“A kiss,” comes your simple reply.

He arches a brow, considering your words. A kiss. He shifts his footing, and for a moment, it seems as though he is going to refuse. But he simply asks another question.

“What kind of kiss, might I ask?”

“One from me,” you giggle, “On the lips. One kiss.”

Aemond grins, “And there is no chance you will renege on this offer? That you will make me lose for nothing?”

“I swear on my honor,” you vow, “You will have your kiss if you lose this tourney for me.”

“Is it a chaste kiss?” He questions, leaning in closer, “Or something more… Passionate?”

You slap his chest, chiding him playfully, “I am a lady, my dearest prince. Such matters are inappropriate to discuss.”

Aemond chuckles softly, shaking his head at your display of coyness. He moves his palm to caress your cheek, smiling to himself at the way you lean into his touch, your hand resting over his. He has never been one to show his affection so freely, only with you is he so open and loving. You press a chaste kiss to his palm, one that his mind reeling.

“I will see you in the morning,” you tell him, taking a step backward, “I will be in the royal box beside our grandsire. Look for me?”

“I would never miss you,” Aemond promises, holding onto your hand until the last possible moment, his voice dropping to a whisper, “And just think. I will embarrass myself before the entire Seven Kingdoms just to see that beautiful smile. I would do anything for you.”

You nod at him, murmuring softly, “Goodnight, sweet Aemond.”

He smiles, “Goodnight, my lady. Sleep well.”

Aemond rides up to you at the tournament, smirking at Cregan and Jacaerys as you lay your favor upon his lance. You give him a cheeky little wink before speaking.

“I wish you good fortune in the tournament, Your Grace,” you flirt, biting your lip as you lean forward, pressing your lips to Aemond’s cheek.

His entire face warms at the feel of your lips on his skin and he nods, his heart thumping wildly in his chest, blurting out, “With your kiss and your favor, I require no luck at all, my sweet lady.”

Falling on his arse is something Aemond grows quite accustomed to during the tourney. He’s knocked from his horse several times, all in the pursuit of a kiss from you. He lays there, staring up at the sky for a moment as the crowd cheers for Prince Jacaerys. Aemond could have beaten him with ease, but instead? He’s here.

He rides past the royal box, seeing the way you rush forward, concern in your eyes as you wince at the sight of the gash on his cheek, “Aemond, are you alright?”

“I am fine,” he mutters, “It is merely my pride that is wounded.”

Meanwhile, your grandsire looks between the two of you in confusion, watching as Aemond is knocked from his horse time and time again while you sigh dreamily, a hand resting on your chest as you proclaim, “He does love me!”

He continues losing, steel clanking against his helm, being thrown from his horse. But for your sake? Aemond keeps going. By midday, he has a black eye, his entire body is bruised, and he feels as if he’s been thrown from Vhagar’s saddle. His body aches, but all he can think of is you. Of winning that kiss. He’s surprised when your handmaiden comes to him with a message. She curtsies before relaying it.

“My lady bids you to win every bout from now on, Your Grace, and win the tourney in her honor.”

Aemond’s jaw drops and he thinks, if he were a lesser man, he’d walk right back over to you and give you a piece of his mind. You want him to win now? Are you mad? But, he nods, face set with determination as he mounts his horse once again, rolling his shoulders, preparing for the next bout. He glances at the favor on his lance, a smile playing on his lips as he rides back out.

And when the tourney is over and he has won, beating all the others with a miraculous improvement in skill? He rides straight to you, naming you his Queen of Love and Beauty, placing the crown of flowers upon your head. You greet him with a coy smile.

“I believe I promised you something, my prince.”

He removes his helmet, grinning at you, his face flushed and hair matted to his forehead, “I believe you did. I am entitled to a kiss, my lady.”

You brush your lips against his cheek, moving to whisper in his ear softly, “Meet me in the gardens. During the feast. You shall have your kiss.”

Aemond nods, taking your hand in his, brushing his lips against it gently, “I will wait with bated breath.”

Your betrothal is announced at the feast, you having finally given your grandsire permission. But, despite having been on the dance floor a few moments earlier, you and Aemond are now nowhere to be found.

The two of you stand in the garden, in the summerhouse as rain begins to pour, your lips pressed to Aemond’s, his hands on your waist. It’s a tender, sweet first kiss, your lips dancing against each other gently in unison. However, as the rain continues to fall, the temperature between you continues to rise, Aemond pulling you closer, pressing your body flush up against his, his tongue pushing between your lips, massaging it against your own. Your hands thread in his hair as he lifts you up onto the railing, your lips never once leaving his.

“How many children will we have?” You murmur into the kiss, making him smile.

“Six,” Aemond replies confidently, moving to kiss your jaw, then your neck, making you giggle.

“Six? No, Aemond, a dozen at least!” You jest playfully, wrapping your arms around him.

“Well, now. A dozen?” He arches a brow before smirking, his hand wandering to your waist, giving you a gentle squeeze as he whispers, “I suppose we had better get started then, my love.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond x reader #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #my writing #aemond oneshot #aemond #hightower!reader

[detachedminxsfics]

Motel

Masterlist

Characters: Negan (Dead City) x F!Reader

Summary: You've grown particularly close with the Motor Inn's personal walker killer and decide to pay his motel room a visit.

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: NSFW - Oral (m receiving), vaginal sex, hair pulling, shower sex, praise, dirty talk, negan's usual foul mouth, gentle dom negan

A/N: If you're from my tiktok (which spawned the chaos that motivated me to finish most of this bc you guys are crazy), hello! This is my first time managing to actually finish and upload a oneshot in months, so I apologise in advance. I was also extremely tired when I wrote most of this, but I hope it was worth the wait for the handful of you bombarding my comment sections for the past 24 hours. 😂 I knew what I had to do the moment I saw that shower scene...like damn.

You downed your third shot of the day before slamming it back down onto the counter and wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes idly following the neon lights on the sign hung proudly behind the bar. The Easy Stay Motor Inn. It was a shithole. It only served as a way of keeping four walls and a roof over your head, and walkers off your ass. Speaking of, there was only one guy you'd grown particularly fond of during the month you'd spent working for the lady who owns this place and lapping up the amenities of their accompanying motel, Negan. He wasn't from around here, that much you gathered just by taking one good look at him, but then neither were you. You were both drifters. Heading from one place to the next, never staying anywhere long enough to see it through and find out whether it'd go to shit or hold out long enough before eventually falling to pieces. You just kept moving. That mentality had served you well so far and had kept you alive long enough to say that you'd made it well over a decade into the apocalypse now, not that you had much to show for it.

"Want another?" The guy behind the bar asked, half expecting you to agree to it as you had with all the others and making his way over to the bottle of vodka you'd been chipping away at.

"No thanks", you shook your head with a small smile and slid off the bar stool, "I'm gonna go try to entertain myself someplace else, but don't be surprised if I come back and finish that off later." You gestured to the vodka with a tilt of your head, and the certainty in your tone had the bartender smiling.

You headed towards the backdoor that led to the motel out back, the harsh change of lighting making you squint and shield your eyes to adjust for a moment, the dim vivid hues of the neon-lit windowless bar you'd been sitting in for the past hour or two being snuffed out once you stepped into the natural sunlight. Visual disorientation aside, you made your way down the row of motel rooms lined at your side, your interest only lying with the idea of arriving at one motel room in particular, and you stopped in front of the door when you found it. The door was a stark black to match the wooden panels sitting on either side of the window not too far from the right of the door, vines having wrapped around some of the slats in the wood from the overgrowth of shrubbery on the floor beneath it. It was run down and uncared for like just about anywhere else in this world. You tested the handle to see if the door was unlocked and to your surprise, it was. Twisting it fully you pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind you as you began to observe the interior of the room. It was generically decorated like just about any other room in this place, and he didn't seem to have left anything behind for you to snoop through. The room was so empty that if you didn’t know any better you might have thought that he'd moved on already, packed up all his shit and hit the road. You figured that this was on purpose and probably explained why he didn't care too much when it came to keeping the door locked since he didn't have any shit to steal. Smart.

Negan hadn't been around for too long now, in fact, he'd only arrived about a week after you, but he left a lasting first impression. He was useful. He pulled his weight by taking care of any of the walkers that roamed or wandered into the perimeter of the motor inn, and was never bad company on the occasions that he'd sat on the bar stool next to you and made conversation. As time went on you'd gotten closer and more comfortable with one another, and you quickly found yourself noticing that Negan was the one person you'd opened up to the most in the duration of your entire stay here, better yet felt the most comfortable doing so with. Your vulnerability wasn't one-sided, either. He never went into an awful load of detail, but he had a bad past. He wasn't on the run per se, but there was a group of people that he was hoping to avoid the possibility of encountering for the rest of his days, a community that he had a difficult history with. He alluded to what seemed to mostly amount to horrible shit that most people had done by now just to stay alive, the kind of things you see at night when you close your eyes, haunting you from the backs of your eyelids. You paid it no mind, and you told him that too; he seemed to appreciate your lack of judgement. Gradually, the conversations grew more personal and not so casual, things got flirty. It was subtle, but Negan would make small coy comments on things that you say, or little compliments now and again that toed the line a tad too much for what could be considered harmless flattery or him shooting his shot. You were able to keep yourself humble up until the night when he had jokingly mentioned how good your ass looked in your jeans after more than a few drinks, not that he needed it to let you know just how much he was checking you out. Your thoughts were interrupted by the twist of the doorknob and the sight of it being pushed open afterwards, revealing a rather sluggish and slightly dishevelled-looking Negan. Negan had a silver beard that he seemed to keep well-maintained, the hair decorating his top lip thicker than the rest. His dark hair was always slicked, though it seemed to have transitioned to more of an ashy brown over time with grey tinging at the sides of his hair. He was ruggedly handsome, that was for sure. A grin crept onto his lips when he noticed you standing by one of the beds, closing the door behind him and running his hand through his hair, slicking some of the strands that had fallen out of place in the process.

"Just letting yourself into my place now, huh? We graduating from drinking buddies to whatever the hell this is?" He quipped but was amused by how bold you were to just waltz on into his motel room.

"It's not like you don't want me here." You remarked with a knowing smile as you sat on the end of one of the double beds, to which Negan chuckled and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, a seemingly small mannerism of his that always drove you wild.

"Touché."

He sauntered to the bed next to you until he stood at the foot of it and started to shrug off his leather jacket with a sigh.

"Well whatever it is honey, it's gonna have to wait. I have been out there cracking rotting skulls for who knows how long, and now I need a damn shower."

The checkered flannel shirt he'd been wearing open underneath it was next, him tossing it on the bed in front of him before his fingers brush over the hem of his black tank top. He glanced at you with the material still pinched between his fingertips, a cocky smile creeping onto his lips as he noticed the way you were shamelessly staring at him and didn't seem to plan on stopping anytime soon.

"You gonna watch me strip now too, darlin'?"

You playfully shrugged and let your eyes wander down his torso, an eye movement Negan most certainly followed judging by the way his smile grew, as did his ego.

"I can turn around if you're too shy, Negan."

The throaty chuckle he let loose was almost immediate, his eyebrows raised as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Me, shy? Fuck no. You can stare your little heart out, and you would most definitely be staring."

Well, you certainly hadn't expected him to take it with such pride, so you caved and turned so you were facing the wall next to the bed. You could hear the sounds of clothes falling against the sheets and the clinking of metal as he undid his belt, and then the zipper on his leather pants.

"You still thinking of sticking it out here for a bit longer? I know last time we spoke you weren't so sure." Negan muttered as he got his pants down to his ankles and started to try to shake his ankles out of them.

You thought for a moment, then sighed a little.

"I think so? I don't know, I'm just trying to go day by day. Why, would you miss me?" Your tone picked up towards the end as did the enthusiasm in your voice, the suggestion making Negan's sudden laughter start in the form of a snort.

"Miss you? Shit, course I would. I'd probably move on from here after that."

You opened your mouth to speak but found yourself unable to form the right words. He made it sound like you were the only reason he was still staying here, and that without you there'd just be no point. You didn't ask him to elaborate though, just silently rolled the thought around in your head.

"Well, time to take that shower. I'll be right back, and I don't know maybe we can grab a drink or some shit afterwards?"

"Sure." You mumbled in response.

After that all you heard was the soft tread of his footsteps as he made his way past you and into the bathroom, then the sound of the water being turned on and beginning to crash against the floor of the shower for a few moments before it became more muffled with Negan's body interrupting the stream, and you turned back to face something other than the blank yellow wall you'd be staring at whilst he was stripping. You did your best to focus on the small details of the room to occupy your head, the peculiar framed pictures decorating some of the walls, and the hideous design choices when it came to the taste of the room, but it was no use. All you could think about was what Negan had looked like underneath all those clothes when he was a mere few feet behind you, and what he looked like right now standing in the shower in the very next room, the image of water droplets trailing down his torso and body making it harder to stay seated with every passing second until you just couldn't take it anymore. You stood to your feet and made your way to the bathroom, standing in the doorway for a moment as you stopped in your tracks. The shower had a sliding door that Negan had slid shut, the distortion of the glass still allowing you to be able to make out the sight of him with his head tilted town and one of his palms pressed up against the wall, and the tattoo decorating his shoulder blade. There was no turning back now, you had made up your mind. You approached the glass and gave it a soft knock, the sound startling Negan a little as he turned and slid the glass just enough for him to lean into the gap he'd made.

"Everything okay?" He asked, concern tinging his voice as he used his other hand to sweep some of the hair that had fallen into his face back in place.

Your only response was the sight of your fingertips grasping the hem of your top before you pulled it over your head, holding the top in your hands for a moment as you gazed at him, trying to gauge Negan's reaction to your now exposed breasts. He seemed taken aback for a moment or two, and then his eyes darkened with lust.

"Can I join you?" You asked, fingers teasingly dancing along the waistband of your jeans as though you could tell by just the look in his eyes that he wasn't going to deny your offer.

He didn't.

"Fuck yeah you can." He rasped with a shit-eating grin, leaning back and pushing the sliding glass all the way open to make room for you to join him.

You stripped until there was nothing left, discarding all of your clothes into a pile on the tiled bathroom floor and stepping into the shower with him. The first thing you noticed was the heat. The steam from the hot water, the heat coming from Negan's body, all of it swarming your body with warmth. Then, him. All of him. From the water droplets falling from the scruff of his beard, the dark hair decorating his chest and trailing down the centre of his torso, and even the skull tattoo inked on the right side of his chest. The man was gorgeous. Your eyes dragged down his body, drinking in every inch of him until you got to the part you'd been anticipating most, but were interrupted. He cupped the underside of your jaw and urged your head back up, his thumb brushing along your chin as the tip of his thumb traced just along the edge of your bottom lip.

"You like what you're seeing, huh?" He seemed to be making more of a statement than genuinely asking, but you entertained him nonetheless.

"A lot." You replied simply, the intense and lustful look your eyes were lit with corrupting your stare as your eyes bore into his.

"Good."

He used the hold on your jaw to guide your lips to his, his lips claiming yours. The hand that had been cupping your chin moved to grasp the nape of your neck, his other hand gripping your hip and drawing your body against his. You could feel him hard against your thigh as he groaned into the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth so you could taste him and his hands keeping you pressed firmly against his body, your own hands beginning to wander from the top of his chest down to his abdomen. The water cascading down his shoulders caressed along your fingertips and down your breasts, the warm water trailing down your body whilst he continued to move his lips against yours until you couldn't breathe, and you were forced to pull back for air. The moment you did Negan dove his head into the crook of your neck and pressed his lips against your pulse point, gently sucking the skin there and occasionally teasing it between his teeth in a way that was sure to leave marks, his beard scratching along your jaw as he did. The attention he paid your neck had your hand rushing up the nape of his neck and into his hair, combing your fingers through the back before taking a fistful of his wet strands. The slight tension on his scalp and the way your breath was shaking right by his ear made him pause for a moment to smile against your skin, a hoarse chuckle following shortly thereafter. The warmth of his breath from the laugh felt hot on your skin, and you used the strands of hair you'd taken in your palm to urge his head back until his face was inches from yours again. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip when you found your voice.

"You've thought about this before haven't you, fucking me?"

His brows raised at your boldness, the corners of his mouth fighting a smile.

"Damn right I have. I'd have to be blind or crazy not to, you are easy on the eyes, darlin'."

"Oh?" You tilted your head as you feigned mock surprise, his eyes looking you over like you were good enough to eat, and you might just let him.

Slowly you leaned in and seductively ran your tongue over his lips, finishing with a small kittenish flick at his top lip before leaning back. You soaked up the wanton look in his gaze when you sank to your knees, your eyes locked with his all the while. Now kneeling on the floor of the shower you reached up and closed your hand around his shaft, the way his breath caught in his throat once he felt your touch giving you the encouragement you needed to lean in and run your tongue over the swollen tip, beads of precum gathering along your tongue as you did. As you licked at it you felt Negan's fingers stroke over your hair before he started to gather it in his hand, all of your hair soon clutched into his fist like a makeshift ponytail.

"Don't be a tease." He warned as he slid his free hand underneath your chin and cupped it, allowing him to use both the grip on your hair and your jaw to urge you forward.

Willingly your lips parted, his cock sliding past your lips and into your mouth.

"Fuuuck, there we go." Negan slurred as he slid further into your mouth, stopping just before he reached your throat.

He grunted once you flattened your tongue on the underside of his shaft and leant forward, bracing one of his hands against the tiled wall of the shower when he lowered his head to look at you.

"Shit, you look so good with a mouthful of cock." He rasped crudely with the dirtiest smile before pushing himself down your throat, and you fought the urge to gag as he did.

He started to move his hips, the motion prompting you to place your hands just above his knees for support whilst he slid in and out of your throat. Soon enough tears began to well in your eyes, the urge to choke too great as you finally gagged on him, the sensation making Negan momentarily screw his eyes shut before sliding out of your mouth. He let you breathe for a moment or two before he was already pushing down your throat again, his groans getting louder and deeper with every thrust.

"Ohh, good girl." He cooed, his sounds of pleasure gradually turning into a blatant string of curses as he repeatedly thrust down your throat, and you shamelessly took every single inch.

Eventually, the movement of his hips got slower, his moans getting louder until finally his hips stuttered and his abdomen began to tense. He tightened his grip on your hair, the harsh grasp burning your scalp, and then you felt the hot wet spurts of warm liquid coating your tongue. You waited until you knew he'd spilt every last drop and then carefully removed him and swallowed his release, your breath a little laboured whilst Negan hovered above you with totally ragged, uneven breath, his eyes half-lidded as he tried to come down from the high of his orgasm. A few tears had escaped your waterline and slid down your cheeks as he fucked your throat, but it had mixed with the occasional stream of water trickling down your face from the shower.

"You did so good, baby. So good." He praised as he finally released your hair from his hand and started gently running his fingers through it instead, his touch soothing some of the pain he'd inflicted upon your scalp.

You stayed like that for a moment just listening to the sound of the water until you felt his hand leave your hair and the sight of him extending it out in front of you for you to take, which you did. He helped you to your feet and wrapped his arm around your waist the second you straightened your back, his mouth crashing against yours and allowing him to taste himself on your lips, the urgency with which he kissed you making you moan into the kiss a little. Whilst he stole your air Negan guided you backwards until your back came to press against the steamy tiled wall, the condensation pooling on the tiles smearing against your skin, and the faint coolness to it making you gasp. You wrapped your arms around Negan's neck to draw him in closer, your hips subconsciously moving to bring your groin against his and allowing his still proudly hard cock to brush against your inner thigh. You broke the kiss to try to regulate your unsteady breathing, leaning back just enough so that your lips were practically still brushing, the hot heavy pants Negan breathed against your lips making you need him all the more.

"Negan?"

"Yeah?"

"I need you inside me."

He couldn't hold back the dangerous look his eyes filled with when you whispered exactly what you needed, an arrogant look in his eye as he leaned back and cockily smiled.

"Your wish is my command, sweetheart. C'mere."

He slid his hands all the way up the backs of your thighs, towards your outer thigh, and then took hold of your hips. The gesture prompted you to do a small jump that allowed Negan to hoist you up and trap you between the wall and his body, your legs wrapped around his waist as his hands moved to cup your ass. In one calculated movement Negan lined himself up and sank inside you, the way you stretched around him eliciting a filthy moan from your lips almost immediately.

"That feel good, baby?" He purred, his voice full of arrogance.

He knew it did, he just wanted to hear you say it.

"Yes, god yes." Was all you could manage as he set a hard and intense pace, drawing all the way out before slamming back inside you, the feeling of fullness with every thrust making your mouth fall open.

One of your hands slid down his chest, his dark chest hair brushing up against your fingers as you did, whilst the other slid up his shoulder and moved to rest on the nape of his neck. His fingers were digging into your skin with the grip he had on you, strands of your hair clinging to the condensation of the tiled walls as you slightly threw your head back, uncontrollable sounds of pleasure spilling from your lips from the way he roughly fucked into you. The overwhelming sensation caused you to idly weave your fingertips in the hair at the top of his neck and run your hands through the back of his hair, occasionally tugging at it when he buried himself especially deep and you could do nothing but squirm in his grip. The water was still running just off to Negan's side, the hot water wasting onto the floor and creating a small pool at his feet. With the way you'd angled your body it allowed him to lean in and lick a stripe up the valley between your breasts, your skin feverishly hot against his tongue as he gathered some of the water droplets and left nothing but a trail of spit before beginning to kiss up your throat. He littered your neck with kisses, moving his affections to the side of your neck before planting a few kisses along your jaw, his stubble scratching along the side of your face all the while. It felt like heaven. You couldn't think about anything other than his touch, the way his mouth shamelessly marked your skin, the sounds of his heavy breath and the guttural groans spilling from his throat like music to your ears. By this point your sweet moans grew to resemble sobs, your legs slightly shaking in his hold as Negan thrust into you over and over, and a feeling started to burn in the pit of your stomach unlike anything you had ever felt before.

"Negan." was all you managed to choke out, practically in the form of a cry.

All you felt was his lips claiming yours, and the occasional parting of your lips just enough for him to whisper into the kisses.

"I got you, I got you, baby." He swore over and over, his gentle reassurance paired with his hard thrusts tipping you completely over the edge, and your whimpers getting lost in his heated kisses.

You feel the knotting in your abdomen just before everything comes crashing over you, waves of pleasure ripping through your body and making you clench around him as Negan continues to fuck you throughout your high, your mind hazed with overstimulation. Eventually his movements began to stutter, his abdomen clenching amidst the deep v-lines framing his hips, and a string of gravelly curses poured from his mouth. Carefully, Negan unwrapped one of your legs from his waist and urged you to set it down on the floor of the shower, the other still wrapped around his hips as he held it there. His free hand moved down to his shaft, wrapping his hand around it and giving it a few quick strokes until he finally came. His hold on your leg became more of a firm squeeze as he threw his head back a little and grunted, liquid splashing over the top of your inner thigh and beginning to gradually trickle down your leg. The bathroom was full of steam now, the air thick with humidity and both of your chests rising and falling rapidly as you both tried to catch your breath. After a few moments you felt Negan place your other leg down, his release still dribbling down your skin as you tried to come down from your incalculable high. His breath evened out a little, his eyes still half-lidded when his hazel eyes locked with yours, his gaze capturing you amidst the knowing grin playing on his lips. You were totally fucked out, and the sight made him chuckle.

"That good, huh?" He teased with raised brows, his tongue dragging over his bottom lip making you playfully roll your eyes and manage a small laugh.

"Shut up."

You'd give credit where credit is due, the man knew what he was doing, but you couldn't allow yourself to stroke his almost nauseating large ego any further. He shook his head with a smile, both of his hands smoothing over your waist and then taking hold of it, using it to lead you towards him. You let him coax you to the space closer to the shower head, the water now splashing directly against the back of his neck and trailing down his body, droplets of water simultaneously forming along Negan's jawline and repeatedly falling from his wet beard. He kept one hand on your waist whilst the other held one side of your face, his eyes boring into yours. His head tipped forward so he could rest his forehead against yours, water sliding down his neck when he started to speak in almost a whisper at first.

"If I hit the road, I want you to come with me."

You thought you may have not heard him right at first and leant back with slightly wide eyes, shock etched into your features.

"Really?" You muttered.

"Yeah."

A moment of silence passed, the stare you shared serving as more of an answer than any words you could utter, but you parted your lips to speak and did anyhow.

"You've got yourself a deal."

#negan #negan smut #the walking dead negan #negan smith #negan twd #negan x reader #negan fanfiction #dead city #dead city negan #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd fic #twd negan #negan x you #daddy negan #jeffrey dean morgan

[greynatomy]

da da da n da da

leah williamson x reader

what can she not do?

literally didn’t know what to title this

whenever i hear this song i think of the princess diaries

———

“Hey, babe!”

“Yeah?” You hear her call out.

“Can you come here for a bit?”

Leah comes into the room, sweat dripping down her face.

“Whats up?”

“I’ve got this song I just came across after how long and honestly I forgot about it.” You grab a guitar from the wall. “Would you like to hear it?”

—

The team was out and about the training center doing their own thing. Leah, not knowing what to do this on pastime, spotted Jen’s guitar at her cubbie. Carefully picking it up, she sits at a her spot, remembering what you taught her.

—

You and Leah were sat in your backyard seating, enjoying the fresh air.

“This one right here is a C chord.”

You each had a guitar, Leah asking you to teach her not long after you’d played the song for her for the first time.

“Like this?” She asks, eyes concentrated on her fingers.

“Move your middle finger down a string. There. Now strum one time for me.”

She strums, the sound was a bit choppy, but not bad for the first time.

“Hey! That’s wasn’t bad at all. You’ll be a two instrument playing girl in no time!”

A blush creeps up on her face, the compliment making her feel a bit giddy.

—

She starts strumming the guitar exactly like how you taught her, stumbling a couple of times.

Da da da n da da, Da da da n da da

—

Da da da n da da da

You were in your studio, finally recording the song that’s been in the archives for so long. Leah wanted to come along to see the process. Intrigued, Leah asked what it felt like to be in the booth.

“Why don’t you find out yourself?”

Leah comes into the booth with you, helping her put the headphones on and giving her forehead a kiss. Exiting the booth, you take a seat next to your producer.

“Try the intro for me, babe.” You press a button, talking to her through the headphones. Turning to your producer, you talk to him on mute to Leah. “Record this for me, yeah. Might come in handy.”

—

“Hey, what song is that?”

“Fuckin’ hell Jen! Scared the shit out of me.” Leah flinches, placing a hand on her chest.

“Sorry.” Jen winces. “But what song is that? Never heard of it before.”

“It’s just something the missus wrote.”

A few days later, the team was over at your’s and Leah’s house for a little listening party. You never liked to do the whole extravagant listening parties that most artists do and wanted to keep it intimate with your friends and family. Ever since you met Leah, the Arsenal team became your family too.

“Alright. So this song has been in the back burner for quite some time and recently rediscovered it. So without further ado.” You click play on your laptop.

You have your eyes on Leah the whole time. From the first note, there’s a recognition in her eyes, eyebrows furrowed trying to figure out what it is. She listens to the song intently, as do the others, mouthing the words.

As the song ends, everyone was saying their praises, cheering you on, but Leah, Leah had tears in her eyes.

“Was that- was that me? Did you put me in it?” She stutters, using the sleeve of her jumper to wipe her tears.

“Well, yeah. You’re my muse so why not add my muse to the song.” You shrug, heat creeping up your face.

She gets up from where she sat, grabbing your face to bring you into a kiss.

“Awww- Ow.”

“Kyra don’t ruin the moment.”

#woso x reader #woso #greynatomy #woso imagines #woso imagine #engwnt x reader #engwnt #arsenal wfc #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso community

[luckych]

ʚ 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : how ___ react to becoming jealous : JUJUTSU KAISEN edition! ɞ

ʚ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : jujutsu kaisen x reader ɞ

ʚ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : some small fluff moments here and there and most definitely smut. ɞ

ʚ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : there may be some bad use of punctuation, maybe some spelling mistakes, nanami lowkey being kind of rough, mentions of oral sex, mentions of whining, crying, many pet names, some suggestive themes, JUST SOME KINKY FREAKY SHIT. ɞ

ʚ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : 2979 words. this is honestly the longest shit i’ve ever written.. at least on here. i’ve been gone for so long but i have this small little thing for people who’ll look. ɞ

ʚ 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : you and the character would be somewhere together with your either group of friends or just each other when some random guy comes up to you, flirting with you and asking if you had a boyfriend. ɞ

ʚ 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : me @luckych the idea might not have come directly from me and might’ve been done before, but none of my work is plagiarized. i wrote everything by myself, so you can obviously use the idea for yourself, but do NOT take my work and pass it off as your own, please and thank you. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ɞ

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

୨୧ - gojo satoru would most definitely playful about it yet totally obvious about his jealousy. once your waiter starts talking too much about you and how pretty you are, gojo definitely grabs your hand under the table, squeezing it slightly.

after the waiter had finally written down your order after yapping your ears off, he looked up from his notepad, looking your pretty body up and down in a flirtatious manner.

“you’re actually really pretty, ma’am–”

“oh, i know she is. she’s a reeeaal sight for sore eyes, isn’t she.. ben?,” he questions the guy in an annoyed tone, tilting his head to the side as if he was actually curious on what this puny imbecile had to say.

his tone was clearly extremely irritated as he softly squeezed your hand as you softly winced from his roughness.

“oh, is this your girlfriend, man? that’s my bad, dude.. w-what do you want to drink?,” your waiter questions your boyfriend, pretty much avoiding gojo’s jealous blue eyes as his stare alone intimidated him.

gojo couldn’t even hold back the scoff that escaped his lips as the complete audacity of this guy stunned him. he turned towards you, chuckling with masked anger.

“satoru, not here..”

“are you ignorant or what? you see two people alone at a two person table and you don’t think, “hmm, just maybe they might be on a date?,” gojo says, softly slamming his fist down against the nicely decorated table, shifting the table slightly as you could see a muscle in his jaw twitch.

“i said i was sorry. what else do you want me to say, man?,” the waiter asked in a slightly nervous tone, placing his pen in his chest pocket and his notepad in his clean, black apron.

“i’m about two seconds away from kicking his ass, babe. you should either hold me back, or let me hurt him,” gojo remarks, a muscle in his eye twitching as he stands up from his seat, cracking his knuckles.

the altercation quickly ended with you and gojo getting your entire meal for free, not before gojo got a few small punches in.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

𐙚 - toji fushiguro wouldn’t even let a guy flirt with you in the first place. on the off chance that a guy actually had the chance to even talk to you, you and toji were out to go get boba and ramen obviously from your pockets because you wanted to treat him to something nice.

you two were walking around on the streets, toji drinking his boba in once hand as his other was wrapped around your waist, holding you close in an extremely possessive manner. your head was resting against his shoulder as he was talking about buying (stealing) some jewelry for you to make up for the money you spent.

that was before some random guys were in front of you, obviously talking about you, pointing out your features very clearly as they continued to look back at you with smirks. toji was already becoming increasingly annoyed, his smirk turning into a scowl almost immediately at their childishness.

“bro, just go talk to her! he’s probably just her guy friend, dude!,” once of the guys murmured under their breath, looking back at you immaturely as they met toji’s harsh eyes. he narrowed his eyes at the boy as he immediately turned away with an anxious look.

whoever they were hyping up finally grew the balls to talk to you, his group of friends walking in front of him as he walked towards you with a nervous yet confident expression on his face.

he stood in front of you, making you and toji stop in your tracks.

“hey, i can see that you're gorgeous, but what else should i know about you?,” he says, his gross pick up line being so disturbing cheesy that you could actually taste it.

it was as if your boba had suddenly turned sour, the seemingly sweet taste becoming instantly bitter as you took a sip.

“i’m gonna stop you right there. you’re either blind, stupid, or both if you don’t see my hand CLEARLY around my GIRLFRIEND’S waist,” toji says in an displeased manner, exclaiming certain words he said to get his point across, passing his boba to you as he shoved the guy.

his friends immediately came to his rescue, running over towards him as they stood behind him, trying to tell toji that they were the ones who encouraged him to pursue you.

toji obviously couldn’t give less of a fuck, raising up his muscular arm as he punched the guy dead in the face with an extremely tight fist, the guy falling to the ground as his nose was bleeding profusely.

“toji fushiguro! that’s enough, i think he’s learned his lesson, don’t you?!,” you cried, running over to toji as you hold both of your boba drinks in only one hand, grabbing toji’s bicep softly.

“hell no he hasn’t. once he’s fucking dead, then i know he’s learned.”

once you guys were finally home after he beat that guy’s ass, you were busy gagging and choking on his dick as he teaches you a lesson because a guy flirted with you. yes, his logic is clearly flawed, but it was his best excuse to fuck you in the most aggressive, roughest way ever.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

౨ৎ - kento nanami would be the type to be chill about his anger during the situation but totally take his anger out on you in private, even if he’s totally against being rough with you. he’d just keep his anger pent up for way too long, his anger surging inside of him for too long for him to handle it properly.

when you and kento were out at a party one of his new friends invited him to, he decided to invite you as he didn’t want to leave his precious baby by herself all night.

since you wanted to make a good impression in front of friends, you decided to wear one of your favorite black dresses, the dress being extremely tight and hugging your curves well.

you did your makeup exceptionally nice, catching your boyfriend’s attention quickly.

“you’re really going to the party like that, baby? you look gorgeous, my love, but there’s going to be guys at the party,” he commented, placing his hands against your hips as he pulled you close to him, your face against his broad chest.

you felt him place a soft kiss against your forehead, a small blush creeping against your cheeks.

“i know. i wanna look good for you, not other guys,” you tell him with a reassuring grin.

nanami was extremely hesitant about letting you out of the house looking so seductive but he decided to allow it as he didn’t expect anybody to actually flirt with you.

sadly, he was dead wrong.

multiple guys at the party were flirting with you, even some of his new friends even though nanami was right there.

he just gave everyone who flirted with you an irritated stare, keeping himself composed to not ruin the night

once you guys were back home, you were crying, screaming his name as you took him harshly from the back.

you were pretty much so incredibly overstimulated to the point where you were cumming way quicker than you ever had in your life, your core being full of his seed and covered in your past orgasms.

afterwards, he definitely gave you the most wonderful aftercare of your entire life, giving you anything and everything you wanted.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

୨ৎ - megumi fushiguro would give you the silent treatment, not because he’s mad at you but because he needs a moment to calm himself down and think before he does something extremely irrational just because of his jealousy.

when you and megumi were hanging out at the park eating ice cream together, a guy who was on the swings with his little brother came up to you two, smirking softly as he looked you up and down in an obviously flirtatious way.

megumi looked up at the guy, seeing that he was obviously attractive.

you also looked up at the guy, becoming awkward and nervous as he stared at you.

“hey, i can see that you’re pretty bored with your friend here. want me to steal you away?,” the guy asked, holding his hand out as you didn’t return the favor.

you turned towards megumi, waiting for him to do something, anything, but he just sat their clenching his fists in angry silence.

you scoffed in an annoying manner, seeing megumi look up as you handled the situation by yourself. you told the guy to go fuck himself, telling him that megumi wasn’t your friend but your boyfriend.

he got the message as he walked away embarrassed, going back to his brother.

the date was awkward afterwards as you weren’t over the fact that he didn’t do anything at all even though you would’ve for him.

you both went to his house afterwards, giving him the silent treatment as he did to you earlier.

“babe, i’m sorry. i - i just froze up. you know if i could’ve done something, i would’ve! i love you, you know i do..,” he said, grabbing your hand as he turned you around, pulling you in as you rolled your eyes softly.

you knew that you couldn’t stay mad at him forever so you eventually gave in, feeling him press the most gentle kiss against your forehead before kissing your lips.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

ೀ - suguru geto is extremely quick to just shut down any type of flirtatious conversation between you and a guy whether you like it or not. he’s just possessive like that.

when you’re talking to one of your old friends from back in the day, he can’t help but listen from the sidelines.

you two were out at a coffee shop just chatting about anything that came to mind.

the barista called out your name as it was the one that you put for the order. you and geto stood up from your table hand in hand, walking to the counter to grab your coffee and cakes.

you stare at the barista’s face for a long second, finding the structure and look of his face to be really familiar.

geto just decides to leave you to your weird actions, grabbing both of your coffees and cakes, taking them back to your seat.

“oh my gosh, chris? is that actually you?! holy shit, i didn’t think i’d ever see you again!,” you exclaim slightly, chris gasping at the discovery that it was you, one of his childhood friends.

you both started to have a conversation, catching up with each other about all the things you’ve missed over the years.

“you’ve definitely gotten prettier, y/n. you look way better than all those years ago,” chris says, reaching out to grab your hand. before you knew it, your hand was in geto’s as he dragged you away from your ‘friend.’

“don’t ever talk to that stupid monkey again. if he can’t take a hint, you shouldn’t even be friends with him,” geto said, pushing your cutely decorated cake and coffee over to you, rolling his eyes as chris still eyed you and your body.

geto caught your eyes staring at the barista, becoming annoyed that he still didn’t get the message.

he turned towards your fake friend, sticking his middle finger up high towards him, telling him to fuck off in the meanest way he could muster.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

ʚɞ - choso kamo would definitely be really needy and desperate for your attention whenever he’s jealous even if it’s a little bit. he always hates it when you talk to other guys, becoming really self conscious for god knows why.

he will NEVER ever tell you why he’s jealous so don’t even ask him.

when you and choso are out at the beach (you dragged choso out), you were laying against a beach towel under and umbrella as choso sat next to you in a chair trying to ignore the heat and how boring it was, knowing that he could’ve been playing video games right now when a guy comes up to you, softly tapping the umbrella as it catches your attention.

you open your eyes, seeing a tan guy with his shirt off, his abs being extremely prominent as he was a muscular guy.

choso looks at the guy then at you, immediately climbing out of the chair to sit next to you on the towel.

you sit up, listening to the way the man flirted with you so confidently and persistently.

choso leaned against your shoulder, whispering soft whines and begs for you to tell him to go away. “c’mon, y/n, tell him to go away already..,” choso pleaded, softly shaking your arm.

eventually, the guy caught the hint that your pale baby was your boyfriend, walking away with a silent scoff. you turn towards choso, seeing the pout on his face as he clings against your arm.

he was obviously frustrated as this wasn’t the first time a guy has hit on you.

he was trying to mask his anger but it was way too obvious by his body language and how he was acting. when you ask him what’s wrong, he can’t help but talk your face off, ranting for about an hour.

really, all you can do for this baby is just hold him in your arms, telling him that everything was gonna be okay and that you’d never leave him for another guy when he’s all that you needed.

afterwards, he definitely tries to control the way he reacts to his jealously as he can tell that he was overreacting just a little bit.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

ꕤ - yuji itadori is honestly the least likely to be jealous out of the bunch. he’s honestly never jealous as he recognizes that there’s no reason to be.

he doesn’t care about guys flirting with you that much because he knows that you’re loyal to him and wouldn’t leave him for some other guy.

when he sees some random guy deciding to flirt with you when you guys are at the movies, he doesn’t really do much about it, not because he was too nervous or he froze up but because he literally knows you can take care of yourself and doesn’t need him to fight your battles for you.

( he definitely fights the battles you actually need help with though. )

once you finally get the guy away from you, you get your large popcorn bucket with your coke, handing yuji his drink before you two head into your movie.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

ꕥ - sukuna is literally the most possessive of them all. he literally feels the slight urge to go ballistic when any guy even pays you any mind that isn’t him.

when you and sukuna are at the carnival together, getting ready to go on another ride, a guy comes towards you two with a large cone of cotton candy in his hand.

sukuna glares at the guy with pure disgust, a frown appearing on his face as he sees a puny human that isn’t you in his line of vision.

you thought that seeing sukuna’s harsh glare would make him go away but no. he just had to embarrass himself by persisting.

“hey there, pretty lady. do you believe in love at first sight or do i have to walk by again?,” he says in the flirtatious manner, a smirk plastered against his face as he holds out the cotton candy to you.

as you go to grab the cotton candy, sukuna’s hand immediately slaps your hand away, grabbing it instead of you as he drops the delicious looking cotton candy onto the floor, stomping on it and using his shoe to smush it down against the concrete.

how dare any other man try to grab your attention? another man trying to get your attention was almost like the world getting nuked.

“if you EVER in your pathetic, sad life decide to flirt with what’s mine, i won’t hesitate to kill you, freak,” he spat, spitting against the guys shirt as he pushes past him, shoving him as he grabs your hand, dragging you towards the line that you wanted to be in before some despicable loser interrupted you two.

“you’re mine, alright? and don’t you forget it.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

₊˚⊹ ᰔ * - i made this extremely sleep deprived being extremely bored without anything to do so if it’s bad, then that’s understandable

₊˚⊹ ᰔ * - again, this was made by me @luckych

₊˚⊹ ᰔ * - i can agree to you using the idea because i feel like this has been done before, but please, don’t copy my work word for word.. (｡•ˇ‸ˇ•｡)

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk choso #choso #choso x reader #yuji itadori #jjk yuji #yuji x reader #sukuna #jjk fluff #fluff #jjk smut #smut

[mitsuyeaah]

hey, i was wondering how bonten (or ran, rindo, and sanzu) would act if they misunderstood a situation between you and your older brother and they got all jealous. (no inc*st or step-cest or anything like that). it’s a funny trope so i thought i’d ask lol

MISUNDERSTANDINGS

syn: bonten trio accidentally misunderstanding a situation between you and your older brother.

TR ft. RAN, RINDOU, SANZU

cw: swearing, jealous!bonten trio but other than that, just pure fluff, pet names (baby, babe, princess, darling)

a/n: sorry this took quite a while, anon! wrote this while i was at the gym hehe

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ RAN HAITANI

— tries to understand the situation. ran tries to keep a cool front, keyword: tries. he knows he’s mature enough to not jump to conclusions but it’s driving him absolutely crazy so he resorts to confrontation.

“oh, hey babe! just getting this sorted out.” ran stared at the scene in front of him, he could feel his limbs tingling from he didn’t know what exactly—jealousy? anger? confusion? you sat on the living room floor, assembling the new coffee table you and ran had bought; it was all fine until his eyes landed on a man sitting across you, helping with the furniture. what the fuck? you had come up to him so casually with another man in his presence, kissing his cheek as you greeted him. were you not ashamed one bit? guilty? that another man was under the roof the two of you shared? stepped foot in a home designed for you and him only? ran stood there, pools of lilac boring holes onto the unknown man’s head.

you turned to ran, noticing the shift in his aura but his eyes were locked onto the man next to you. before you could call out his name, he opened his mouth, “and who might you be? didn’t know we had a.. guest, if i may.” his tone was flat and cold but a saccharine smile made its way to his lips as if to taunt the man. you furrowed your brows, “ran—” “no, princess. i want to hear from him. he’s got his own voice, yeah?” you blinked up at ran as he cut you off. was he being for real right now? why was he being rude?

your older brother let out an awkward chuckle and scratched at his nape, “i’m- i’m their older brother.. uh, nice to meet you, ran haitani, right?” your sibling hastily stood up, jutting out an arm at ran who looked like he had seen a ghost. every single feeling was drained from his body at the man’s introduction. well shit. “darling.. i’ve told you about my older brother so many times.. do you not remember?” ran wracked around his brain. shit. shit. you had told him but he somewhat forgot about it.

he stood there for a few seconds before quickly shaking your brother’s hand, “oh fuck, i’m so sorry! shit shit— i didn’t mean to be rude at all!” ran’s eyes widened before profusely bowing in front of your older brother. you bit back a smile, ran has never acted like this before—it was such a sight to see him all flustered and embarrassed. a man who’s nothing but self assured turned into a flustered mess in front of your brother. “you treat all strangers like this..?” your brother mused, clearly joking. ran’s mouth opened and closed as he turned crimson red. both you and your sibling laughed out loud at his awkward state.

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ RINDOU HAITANI

— waits for you to admit it. rindou is not a man of many words, he doesn’t really like confrontations and would rather hear it from you without him having to ask you—even if it swarms his thoughts day and night.

“you know.. you can tell me anything..” rindou’s deep voice sliced through the peaceful silence of the night, the vibrations from his chest going straight to your ear as you lie your head atop it. there was this slight hesitancy in his tone that made you furrow your brows, “hm? what do you mean?” you angled your head to look up at his face—his amethyst eyes were cast with the warm glow of the bedside lamp but you could see the swirling storm behind it. rindou stared straight ahead, his hand had stopped rubbing your back. he bit his lip, feeling a lump in his throat as he mustered the courage to say something. to address the elephant in the room.

“i.. i know you’re seeing someone else.. i saw another man’s shoes at the doorstep when i came home.” upon seeing it earlier, rindou turned and left to clear his thoughts. he closed his eyes, his hand that hovered over your back balled into a fist. furrowing your brows, you put the pieces together in your head and before you knew it, a wide grin was plastered on your face. rindou’s eyes shot open as you burst out laughing, no sign of guilt on your face. he was confused. “wha—” “baby.. those shoes you saw earlier? they were my brother’s! he came by to meet you but you came home later than usual.” you buried your face in his chest, shaking with laughter.

rindou’s brows shot up, “but— how— you didn’t tell me..?” “i texted you, remember? though i don’t think you replied at all.” realisation sank in and rindou wanted the bed to swallow him whole. his phone had died and had no way of charging it, hence why he didn’t see your text earlier. he buried his face in his palms as he felt his face heat up in embarrassment. how could he be so silly? “fuck, how embarrassing.. i’m so sorry for assuming, baby. i—” “baby, it’s okay.” you tried to console him but ended up bursting with laughter at the situation, earning a deep sigh from rindou and his face shielded with his hands.

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ HARUCHIYO SANZU

— immediately jumps to a conclusion. sanzu is a very clingy partner, he sees another man next to you? he sees red. doesn’t beat around the bush, and he gets straight to the point—this behaviour of his, he’s picked up from doing his job in bonten.

“who the hell is this?! are you cheating on me?” you almost dropped the plate you were holding at sanzu’s loud voice. there he stood at the entrance of the kitchen, sleeves of his button down shirt rolled up, hair tousled—a clear sign of a rough day from work. a vein was prominent at the side of his neck as he questioned you. sanzu narrowed his eyes at the man who stood next to you, not only was he in his kitchen, he also wore his apron. “sanzu! that-that’s not the way to greet my brother!” you took a few steps to stand in front of him as you saw rage brewing behind his azure eyes; it all quickly dissipated as his eyes darted between the two of you. oh. you two did have the same eyes.

sanzu bit his bottom lip, embarrassment quickly swallowing him. he remembered his outburst a few seconds ago and he wanted nothing but to crawl into a hole. “ah.. um.. my apologies. didn’t know you had an older brother.” he sheepishly smiled at you, scratching at his nape. “well now you do. he was so eager to meet you, you know.” you raised a brow at him before proceeding to set up for dinner—with the help of your older brother. sanzu awkwardly stood there, feeling out of place. he locked gazes with your brother before shuffling to his feet and warmly greeting the man; you playfully shook your head at sanzu as you heard him profusely apologising, his tone much calmer and quieter now.

throughout the night, sanzu kept close. he fully knew you were still a bit upset at how he acted towards your brother. he didn’t blame you, it was entirely his fault. he was clingy—a hand on your thigh, an arm slung around your waist, his shoulder touching yours. you’ve already forgiven him earlier but you wanted to see how far he’d keep up with this; it was cute to say the least. how he followed you like a puppy with it’s tail between it’s legs, clearly guilty of his actions.

© mitsuyeaah

#ran haitani #rindou haitani #sanzu haruchiyo #ran fluff #rindou fluff #sanzu fluff #ran headcanons #rindou headcanons #sanzu headcanons #ran x you #rindou x you #sanzu x you #ran x reader #rindou x reader #sanzu x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #tokrev fluff #tokrev headcanons #tokrev

[ebonyenvy]

One Night Only (Pt. 2) (18+)

check out my masterlist! ♡

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Pairings: Jordan Li x Fem!Reader, (brief) Andre Anderson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Past experiences have wrecked Jordan’s perception of their true feelings. The pretty girl from a week ago isn’t making their situation any better. Cue angst and car sex.

Tags: Jordan Li x fem!reader, Gen V, Jordan Li is a toxic, jealous, sexy piece of shit, cursing, angst, sensitive reader, sapphic make out sesh, Corruption kink, smut, mature content, Jordan might be a little OOC? Sorry. I wrote this in two hours.

Word Count: 2.7k

Jordan Li was probably the most confusing human being she had ever encountered. Ever since that night, he had been ignoring her. She’d see him in the courtyard at lunch, wave, and be disappointed when he didn’t wave back. She knew he saw her. What was his problem?

A week went by since the night she entangled with Jordan. She had finally come to terms with the fact that Jordan didn’t see her as anything but a one-night stand. She couldn’t explain why she felt so hurt by this. Maybe Jordan regretted what happened. Or maybe she was some kind of revenge hook-up? She had dealt with that before; her body being used to make someone else jealous. But that didn’t seem like a thing Jordan would do. On the other hand, she didn’t know Jordan much. She knew he was number five on the list. She knew that he had been Dr. Brink’s TA, but other that, his story was a mystery to her.

The next time she saw him, she was determined to get his attention. She didn’t care if she embarrassed him. How dare he treat her like trash? He owed her an explanation. If she had did something wrong, she’d like to know. If he wished he could forget that night, she had a right to know. She doesn’t know why it bothered her so much, but it did. He didn’t have to fuck her again, but he could’ve at least waved or said hello when he saw her in public.

She had gotten information from Maverick, the dorm’s resident assistant. She demanded to know where Jordan’s room was in the sweetest way. She fluttered her eyelashes and put her hands together in a praying form, begging him over and over to tell her until he finally did.

“God, you freshman are so fucking annoying! Can’t a guy jerk off in peace?” She didn’t have time to wonder if he was jerking off in that moment, due to his invisibility. She’d question him again later on that, because ew.

She made her way to Jordan’s room, knocking on the door once, twice, three times.

“Coming!” She heard a feminine voice shout from behind the door.

Had she arrived at the wrong room? No, Mark was adamant on the floor level and room number.

Plus, she recognized that smell of hefty cologne from the night Jordan fucked her senseless.

So who was-

Oh. She had approximately five seconds to walk, no sprint, away from this situation. She could’ve made it behind a wall or scurried off into a communal bathroom. She had time.

But she stood there, dumbfounded and hurt.

The girl from the other side opened the door, “Can I-“

She stood there.

Her doe eyes brimmed with tears. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? She didn’t own Jordan. She wasn’t his girlfriend. He made it very clear that he didn’t want to be with her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “Wrong door.”

Before the girl had anything to say, she was running down the hallway and exiting the building.

. . .

That was all it took for her to move on. Now, she was back to her normal self. Fuck Jordan Li, and fuck whoever that girl was at the door.

She was undoubtedly pretty, but also handsome at the same time. She kind-of looked like Jordan a bit, but she highly doubted it was a relative. Some guys were into shit like that, fucking the “girl” versions of themselves.

Ick.

She was tired of parties. They were fun, sure. It was nice to get out and get drunk and fuck here and there, but she needed an escape from that environment. She opted to go to a bar instead, one of the local ones near campus that served as a hot spot for the students.

She put on a black, tubed dress that stopped at her mid-thigh. She chose one of her favorite leather jackets to match with it and similar-looking black leather boots that came up just below her knee. It was different than what she’d normally wear. The white dresses, jean skirts, and pink accents made her look cute, but it seemed like people took advantage of that. They thought she was naïve and not aware of their schemes.

She was smart, that much was evident. As pretty as she was, she was also sexy, and she’d be damned if she didn’t own that shit.

The bar was far quieter than the frat parties, but still loud nonetheless. Supes and normals mingled here. One thing they both had in common was their love for alcohol. It seemed to bring them together and offer peace against outside situations.

The moment came when she was asked if someone could buy her a drink. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. He had curly, dark brown hair and deep black eyes. He was good-looking, she couldn’t deny that.

“I’m a freshman,” she stated. The man laughed.

“You say that like I’m old,” he said as he bought himself a drink, “I’m only a junior.”

She smiled, knowing that he was in her age range and a fellow student calmed her. “I’m (Y/n).”

He took a sip from his glass, “Andre,” he replied, “You have a coin on you?”

She nodded, reaching into her black velvet purse to retrieve a quarter. She handed it to him, and he examined it thoroughly.

“Look,” he held the quarter between his forefinger and thumb, “If I could make this-“ she watched as the quarter transformed before her eyes, the metal twisting and bending to create the shape of a bird, “into her drink-“ he looked over at a woman sitting down, holding a champagne glass in her hand, “then you have to come home with me.”

“Oh, I have to?” She smirked.

“I don’t make the rules,” he shrugged and grinned back, “Just enforce them.”

Before she could reply, she felt a familiar presence loom over her. She turned around, met with a firm chest and a heavy scent.

Jordan.

“She’s not into your lame ass party tricks, Andre,” Jordan said.

Andre scoffed, blistering a false offended look on his face, “Lame? C’mon, Jordan, don’t be like that.”

Jordan rolled his eyes, “She’s not interested, got it?”

Andre rolled his eyes as well, his fists bawled up and the once floating medal bird turned into a dense ball, “It’s 2023. Women can speak for themselves.”

“Right,” Jordan looked down at you, finally including you in on the conversation that he interrupted, “Are you interested?”

She was taken aback by the question. She sputtered a little, swapping glances between Andre and Jordan. Whatever this was, she did not want to be apart of it. Fuck Jordan for ruining this.

“No.” She said. Andre held his hands up in defeat, grabbed his drink, and walked away from the bar and into the crowd. She turned back to Jordan then and stood up. “Fuck you.”

“You already did,” he said.

She pushed him then. “No, fuck you. Fuck you for being an asshole to me all this week and then popping up to ruin-“

“Ruin what, exactly? Where you going to go home with him, huh? Fuck him, too? Let him see you the way I saw you?”

“Excuse me?” She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it. His grip was tight and bruising. A few bystanders gathered around them.

“Let’s go to my car.” Jordan tugged her towards the exit. She barely had time to register what was going on before she felt the cold breeze of the night air swift through her nostrils and blow on her exposed skin.

He opened the passenger door for her. A gentleman. What kind of gentleman would dare to ask to her that way? Just who did he think he was? Her fucking boyfriend?

She got in, and he slammed the door closed. She stared out the window as he felt the car dip a little with the weight of Jordan getting in on the driver’s side.

The car was silent.

“Are we playing the quiet game or something?” .

She nodded.

He sighed, “Look, you have every right to hate me-“

“I do.”

“-but I need to explain something to you.”

She could feel her anger bubbling up. Her knees bounced against the car floor. She continued to stare out the window. “Explain.”

“The girl you saw, she was-“

Oh, not this lousy and overused excused. He really thought she was dumb. It wasn’t just something she had made up in her mind. This was evidence.

She turned, tears just about to spill past her eyelids, “Your sister? Your cousin? Your best friend?” She scoffed, “You think I’m stupid. You ignore me for a week, a week, Jordan. Then you decide you can whisk me away like you’re some kind of Prince Charming?”

“That’s not-“

“You embarrass me in front a cute guy because what? You’re jealous? You don’t like to see your one-night stand hooking up with other people but don’t mind not bothering to wave back when she waves at you?”

“(Y/n)-“

“But maybe I am stupid. You asked if I was interested, and I said no. You opened the door for me, and I got in. You folded my panties and tucked me in and left and treated me like I didn’t exist.”

Jordan watched intently as she spewed all the horrible shit they had done to her. They didn’t think it would affect her so much. They’d hate to be ignored, too, but they’d get over it. They could tell she convinced herself she was over them, over the entire situation. If she was moved on, she wouldn’t have turned down Andre’s offer, and she wouldn’t have entered their vehicle.

“-and now you’re not fucking listening, great.” She folded her arms and dramatically laid back against the seat. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her makeup was ruined. Black streaks of mascara coated the skin.

“I’m sorry,” they said. “You’re right. Not about the stupid thing, the fucked up thing. It was wrong of me to ignore you, I just…” Jordan breathed in shakily. This was so out of character for them. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

She turned towards the window again, staring at her own reflection.

“And… the girl you saw wasn’t my sister, cousin, or best friend,” They could feel their chest tightening, “She was me.”

She watched in the reflection as Jordan morphed into the girl she had seen earlier. She turned back sharply, completely in shock at what she just witnessed.

“You-“

“Yeah. I’m bigender, or whatever the fuck,” Jordan sighed. They felt vulnerable in this form. They tucked a strand of their longer black hair behind their ear and looked beyond the front windshield, “I didn’t want you thinking that I-“

“That you’re into women who look like you?” She responded.

“Yes,” Jordan snorted, “But I was going to say that I wasn’t using you. Or- I didn’t use you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Do you normally fuck girls and abandon them?”

“I normally don’t get jealous when I see someone else flirting with them,” they looked at her then, “I didn’t like what I saw. When he flirted with you using his medal-bending ability. It was corny.”

She let out a small laugh, wiping away her tears, “It was kind of corny.”

Jordan nodded, “I was… afraid. I’m not used to feeling like this, but I am used to it at the same time. Girls, they fuck me in my masculine form and want nothing to do with me in my feminine form. Guys are vice versa.”

She listened to every word coming from their mouth.

“I guess I’ve grown accustomed to blocking people out without asking if they’d accept both versions of me.”

The car was quiet once more.

“Accustomed,” she whispered, “that’s a big word.”

Jordan rolled their eyes.

“I don’t mind,” she was no longer looking at them, instead focusing on her hands that she held in her lap, “I wouldn’t have judged you. I’m not judging you.”

“You’re not?”

“I think you’re the most handsomest and prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” she said.

They could feel their ears tint with red.

“I understand why you were nervous, but I wish you would’ve talked to me before doing all of this,”

“I’m sorry,”

“I know,” she faced them, bringing her hands to cup their soft jawline, “I forgive you.”

Their lips met with hers, but not like how they did at the frat party. This time was more passionate, sweeter, and less rough. She broke the kiss to climb over the armrest and straddle them. Jordan leaned the chair back as far as it would go to give her enough room to sit on their lap. She took off her leather jacket. Their hands held onto her waist, keeping her in place. She liked being on top and knowing that she had no control. They liked being underneath her and knowing that they were still the dominant one.

They began to kiss each other harder. More hunger. They craved her. She must’ve worn this black outfit in retaliation. She looked pretty in white. She looked pretty in black. She looked pretty naked. She was the most beautiful girl they had ever seen, and now they had her right where they wanted her.

She had been hogging their memory ever since that night. They’d slip their hands into their pants during late hours of the night, fondling their clit and breathing her name in heavy gasps as they imagined her touching them. They pinched their nipples, imagining her biting them. They wanted to see her between their thighs, eating them out with her back arched and her eyes closed because she was so into it.

“Am I doing good?” They imagined she would say.

They’d tell her she was doing amazing as they fucked their pussy onto her face.

They’d have to take a late-night shower, having soaked their boxers in their secretion. Their shirt would stick to their back from how hot they were and how much they were sweating during a simple masturbation session.

They wondered if she touched herself. Maybe she was so pent up with frustration that she couldn’t help but fuck it out of herself. She’d use two fingers right off the bat. Her legs would be spread open, and her clothes discarded into a heap at the edge of her bed.

“Jordan,” she’d moan.

“Jordan,” she moaned.

They were brought back to the present, pulling away from her lips. Both of their chests rise and fell with great intensity. They bought their hand up to her face, placing their thumb on her lip and parting them. She opened willingly, allowing their thumb to enter her wet cavern.

She sucked feverishly, all while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck,” Jordan cursed. They could feel how wet they were in their stiff jeans.

She pulled their thumb out of her mouth with a barely audible pop!

“I want to touch you,” she said.

Yes, yes, please, yes.

She pulled up their shirt, revealing a flat stomach that had the shadows of their abs present. They didn’t wear a bra. She was very understanding of that, too. It’d be extremely uncomfortable for them to shift and feel the hard clasps of the bra digging into their back.

She cupped their breast tenderly, swiping her thumb over the nipple. Jordan couldn’t tell if she’d been with women before. Was she an expert? Or was she just doing what she did when she touched herself?

She pinched and they shifted unexpectedly. She leaned back, her ass hitting the steering wheel and blaring the horn.

It was quiet for the third time.

They apologized for startling her. She told them it was okay.

Then, she busted out laughing, falling onto them. They laughed, too.

“I guess that’s a sign,” she said.

“A sign for what?”

“To take me back to your place.”

She didn’t have to say anything else.

#gen v #jordan li #fem4fem #gen v fanfiction #andre anderson #ooc #sapphic #angst #jordan li smut #smut #reader insert #x reader #Spotify

[luminoustarlight]

As Fate Would Have It | Chapter Two

It's your first day of work at Skywalker Enterprises.

◂ chapter one ▸ chapter three

rating: mature | pairing: dilf!anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 3.7k | read on ao3

warnings: swearing, age-gaps, sexual fantasies

The moms at St. Lucas Preparatory School are shameless. Single, divorced, and married women (and some men) alike can’t help but hold their breath when Anakin Skywalker steps onto campus. The dads are intimidated by him and the moms… well, let’s just say the moms have less than school appropriate thoughts about the billionaire. 

Anakin detests the end of the year. He hates being involved at the school. He doesn’t want to spend 2 hours of his day off packing meals in a crowded gymnasium with other parents who also don’t want to be there. 

He doesn’t want to make small talk or ask about Luke and Leia’s classmates because frankly, he doesn’t give a crap. The only children he likes are his own and he won’t pretend otherwise. 

“Mr. Skywalker,” Leia’s teacher, Ms. Clark sighs, “you are the only parent in my class who has yet to sign up for a slot at this year's Cranberry Sauce.” Cranberry Sauce is just the name the school gives the Thanksgiving Drive to make it sound more “fun”. 

Anakin gives his children a kiss on their foreheads and sends them through the school gates. Once they’re out of earshot, he addresses Leia’s teacher. “I already wrote a check to buy the damn food. Isn’t that sufficient?” 

“Mr. Skywalker,” Ms. Clark repeats with annoyance. If it were up to her, she’d let Anakin donate all of the money he wants in order to keep him from volunteering at school events. She thinks he’s arrogant, stuck-up, and far too handsome for any man to be. So she decides to loathe him since she can’t fuck him. But Headmaster Franklin is adamant Anakin attends the event. 

“I really insist that you participate for at least an hour at Cranberry Sauce next weekend. It is important for your children to see you involved at the school. At their school.” 

Anakin’s tall and broad stature seems to grow even larger at this statement. How dare this woman insinuate anything about him as a father? 

“You think I’m not involved in my childrens’ lives?” Anakin has just enough self-control not to completely raise his voice at his daughter’s fourth grade teacher. Especially since parents are continuing to drop off their kids. “You think I’m an absent father who gives the school money to compensate for my lack of paternal instincts?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Ms. Clark answers cautiously. “There is no need to make a scene. I have no doubts you are an excellent father, Mr. Skywalker. I don’t think Leia would be the young lady she is if you weren’t. One hour. That's all we ask.” 

Anakin raises an eyebrow. “We?” 

“Oh, um, well-” Ms. Clark stammers. Busted. She sighs with defeat. “Headmaster Franklin would very much like to see you there.”

“I’m sure he would,” Anakin replies smugly. Headmaster Franklin wants him there for publicity. Anakin should be more pissed about that than being accused of not being a present parent, but he’s not. He likes his ego stroked every now and then. “One hour.” 

“Thank you,” Ms. Clark smiles tightly. “Does 10-11 work for you?” 

“Fine,” Anakin waves his hand dismissively as he gets a message on his phone. 

Ben Kenobi 

Your new secretary is here. 

Shit. It’s Anakin’s first day without Dorothy. No wonder the morning has gone the way it has. Between Luke spilling orange juice on his shirt, Leia’s uncooperating French braids, and his conversation with Ms. Clark, Anakin can’t help but fear the change in routine with a new assistant. He types his response. 

Anakin Skywalker

Assistant. Not secretary. I’ll be there in 20 minutes. 

Ben Kenobi 

If you say so. 

Ben Kenobi is Anakin’s closest friend. Some might even call them brothers. Ben is fifteen years older than Anakin, married to the mayor, and enjoys fly fishing on the weekends. He’s also Luke and Leia’s godfather. Should anything happen to Anakin, there is no one else he’d trust to raise and watch over his children than Ben Kenobi. 

And Ben knows better than anyone that Anakin doesn’t like change. He’s been dreading Dorothy’s last day since she told him she was retiring a year ago. How was he going to find someone as good as her? Someone who anticipates his needs before he does? 

That’s why he tasked her with finding her own replacement. He’s just too busy to interview a replacement for Dorothy himself. He wouldn’t know what to look for, anyway. If he doesn’t know what he wants in a woman to date, how is he supposed to know what he wants in a new assistant? 

.

.

. 

“Mr. Skywalker is not in at the moment. Can I take a message?” You’ve uttered that exact sentence at least seven times since you arrived at the office at 8:00 a.m. Now, as it nears 9:00, you expect to see your new boss very soon. 

Each time you hear the elevator ding, you look up with hopefulness at the arrival of the esteemed Anakin Skywalker. What will you say to him? How will you introduce yourself? Will he be nice and welcoming? God, you hope so. You’ve read just about every article, watched every interview, and listened to every podcast he’s done to prepare yourself for the job. The consensus is the same in all of them. 

Anakin Skywalker is generous, he’s polite, and generally gets along with everyone— if you don’t get on his nerves. And, according to Dorothy, he’s a charmer. 

“Yes, absolutely,” you say while taking notes of the message on a legal pad. Your head is down so you don’t notice Anakin walking out of the elevator. He stops 5 steps away from your desk. His ribs feel like they’re collapsing around his lungs because of that voice. Why does he know that voice? 

“I will let Mr. Skywalker know you called as soon as he gets into the office.” You hang up the phone and as you look up, there he is in all of his gorgeous glory. 

You actually have to tell yourself to take a breath because he’s even more handsome in person. Faint lines around his eyes represent years of life he lived before you were born. His dark blonde hair is combed back effortlessly and is it wrong that you want to run your hands through it? Yeah, probably. He’s your boss and over twenty years older than you. 

“It’s-” Anakin can’t even say more than that because holy fuck. Is he dreaming? He squeezes his eyes and then opens them, only to see you now standing with your hand extended to him. “It’s… you.” 

“Um, yes,” you say while awkwardly returning your arm to your side. “I’m Y/N. Your new assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Skywalker.” 

“I- um, yes,” Anakin clears his throat. Christ, that wasn’t even a sentence. “I need to take care of something,” he says on his way towards his office. “I am not to be disturbed until I come out. Do you understand?” 

“Y-yes. Yes, sir,” you barely answer before Anakin’s office door is shut violently. Well, that certainly wasn’t the introduction you were expecting or hoping for. You’re starting to think not meeting him beforehand was a bad idea. It honestly should’ve been a red flag but Dorothy insisted it was fine. 

It doesn’t seem fine. 

And things definitely aren’t fine. For Anakin, that is. To say he’s freaking out is putting it lightly. He paces the length of his office, shoving his fingers through his hair and muttering to himself. “It can’t be. There’s no way it can be her.” 

Maybe he’s hallucinating. Maybe he’s having an incredibly vivid dream where his favorite OnlyFans performer, who he has known as HoneySuckle for the last three years is his new assistant. What did you say your name is? Anakin couldn’t hear you over the erection that was forming in his pants because he knows your voice. He’s cum from your voice alone. He’s cum because of you so, so many times. 

This can’t be happening. 

He’s never seen your entire face but he knows it’s you. He’d recognize your lips in a police lineup. He hears your voice in his wet dreams. He just knows it’s you. 

And the fact that he has a hard-on is a problem. A problem he wishes you could take care of but you can’t because now you work for him and he’s your boss. This is all so, so wrong. 

Anakin doesn’t so much sit on his leather chair as he does collapse into it. This was never supposed to happen. Yes, he has dreamed about meeting you on more than one occasion. He’s thought about telling you who he is during your countless direct messages so many times. He’s thought about using his infinite resources to find out who you really are on more than one occasion.

But he always concluded that it would be so insanely wrong and borderline creepy if he did that. You were always supposed to remain a fantasy. Just a nameless woman on a screen who doesn’t live in the same country, state, or city as him. 

Yet here you are— sitting outside of his office, taking his calls, calling him Mr. Skywalker and being even more beautiful than he could have imagined. 

You are no longer the woman on his tablet spewing filthy words as you make yourself orgasm. You’re tangible. You have a name- although he can’t remember what it is. He replays the interaction over in his head. The feeling he felt when he saw you was reminiscent of seeing his wife walk down the aisle at their wedding. He was a blundering mess then, just as he is a blundering mess now. 

He doesn’t even want to think about your first impression of him. He’s supposed to be Anakin Skywalker for crying out loud! The suave, handsome millionaire who has the ability to make men cower and women fall to their knees. The embarrassment he feels from that interaction is enough to subdue his hard-on. He pours himself a bit of Bourbon, shoots it back like it’s a normal thing to do at 9 in the morning, and prepares to reintroduce himself to you. 

Anakin smooths his hands down his slacks before opening his door. As his eyes are magnetized to you, his heart starts beating irregularly. Get a fucking grip. 

You stand attentively when you notice Anakin walking towards you. Worried you made a terrible impression on him, you wait to speak. But Anakin doesn’t say anything either and now he’s standing in front of your desk, all tall and lean and smelling like Cedar and Whiskey. He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read. Did Dorothy tell him anything about you? Or did he go into this just as blind as you did? 

His eyes seem to dance all over your body which makes you feel like he’s studying you. Or criticizing every single thing about your appearance. From your simple burgundy dress to the pearl studs you bought with some of Skyguy81’s most recent (and overly generous) tip. 

Finally, because his gaze on you was becoming too much to bear, you are the one to talk first. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Skywalker?” 

Yeah, you can remind him of your name for starters. “Do you have messages for me?” is what he asks instead. 

“Yes,” you answer, picking up the pad you’ve been scribbling notes on for the last hour. “Rex sent over the final schematics for the 0525 project that needs your approval by 3 p.m. today in order to begin production. Mayor Kryze’s office called about the upcoming Gala in December and wanted to know if you would be in attendance. And if so, how many tickets should they reserve? Oh, and someone from St. Lucas Preparatory School called to let you know that your son ripped his pants and needs a new pair brought to school because they don’t have any new pants in his size.” 

Anakin taps his index finger on your desk while he listens to you. He barely registers anything you say because it’s really hard to hear your voice without getting aroused. It’s hard even looking at you without automatically picturing you naked. There’s not an inch of your skin he’s never seen. Well, except for the top half of your face which now, of course, he has seen. And God, does he love what you have to offer. 

You’re still relaying messages but suddenly you’re bent over your desk, gripping the edge of it with pale knuckles as Anakin slams into you over, and over, and over. He’s making you yelp his name so loudly the whole building can hear you. 

“Mr. Skywalker?” 

Anakin snaps back into reality where you’re still fully clothed and definitely not moaning his name. “What?” comes out a little harsher than he intended. And he immediately regrets it when he sees you visibly shrink right before him. 

“What- what would you like me to tell the Mayor’s office?” 

Anakin has gone as a bachelor to the last two Christmas Galas. Ben stays close to Satine the whole night and he really doesn’t see the point in asking a woman he has no interest in to be his date. Plus, going alone lets him leave the party with whomever he wants or to call it a night and go home early to watch ELF and drink peppermint cocoa with his kids. 

“Have them put me down for 2.” 

You nod whilst making another note on the pad. “And what about your son’s pants?” 

“Did they say where he ripped them?” 

“Right down the middle,” you answer. 

Anakin shakes his head. “Oh, Luke,” he mutters to himself. “Alright, I’ll go home and get him a new pair.” 

“Icandoit,” rushes out of your mouth. 

“What?” 

“Sorry, my mouth moved faster than my brain,” you reply, hoping Anakin will find it endearing instead of annoying. “I said I can do it. I don’t mind. It’s my job, isn’t it?” 

Anakin opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything. Yes, technically it’s your job to do this sort of errand. But Anakin doesn’t want you going to his house alone, sifting through his son’s drawers, and bringing him new pants to his school. 

Primarily because he’d much rather you be in his home under different circumstances. 

“We’ll go together,” Anakin decides against his better judgment. “I’ll drive.”

.

.

.

So, Anakin definitely didn’t think things through when he said he’d drive. 

In what world did he think sharing a close, confined space with you was a good idea? This whole morning has been a cluster-fuck. Honestly. He’s still struggling to wrap his head around who you are. When you announced Squirting for Sky was going to be your last video, he thought what a devastation it would be to not look forward to your videos every week. Who would’ve thought you’d be the one replacing his dear old assistant the very next week? The odds of it all are overwhelming. 

But isn’t this what he’s always wanted? The opportunity to meet you? To know your name and know you personally? Every wish of his has been granted— except for the fact that he is your boss and you are technically his subordinate. He says technically because Dorothy always felt more like family than an employee. 

You could be family. 

You could be so much more than his assistant.

Oh, Jesus Christ, Anakin. Be reasonable. She’s your employee. She’s practically a kid. 

Anakin looks over to you for the first time since getting in the car. You’re pressed against the side of the passenger door, knees angled away from him and arms crossed over your chest. “Are you cold?” 

“Oh,” you say, looking at him with a tentative smile. “A little.” 

“You should’ve said so,” Anakin turns on the heater and your seat warmer. “My kids call seat warmers butt toasters. Let me know if your butt gets too toasty.” 

You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. 

There’s an awkward pause as Anakin realizes what he just said. He absolutely cannot think about your butt any longer than he has to because we all know how that will end.

 (A hard cock, in case that wasn’t clear). 

 “I mean, uh- shit,” Anakin briefly closes his eyes to compose himself. Let me know if your butt gets too toasty? 

“Just turn it off yourself if you get too warm.” 

Do you make him nervous? No way. You decide to let it go. “Kids? Plural?” 

“Yeah.” Anakin drapes his right arm over the center console and taps his fingers against the gear shift. Long, dexterous fingers at that. You have to look away before you start thinking about something completely inappropriate of your boss. “I have twins. A boy and a girl. Luke, he’s the silly one. Right now he’s big into archeology. He’s also pretty clumsy, hence the rip in his pants. And Leia, my daughter, she’s far too serious for any 9 year old to be. She says she wants to be a senator when she grows up.” 

This is the longest you’ve been able to look at Anakin without feeling your cheeks burning. Now, they’re just hot because of the heater blasting in your face. “You light up when you talk about them,” you say. “You must love them a lot.” 

“More than anything,” Anakin doesn’t hesitate. “Here we are.” 

You should’ve been paying attention on how to get to his house from the office. Surely, you’ll be running these errands on your own if things go well with your employment. Oh, well. That’s what the Maps is for. 

Anakin’s house is a stunning Eichler. It looks straight out of an Architectural Digest cover. The lawn outside is perfectly cropped and perfectly green but littered with a soccer ball, football, a baseball bat and whiffle balls. You wouldn’t have pegged Anakin for a mid-century modern kind of guy. You would’ve thought he’d opt for an insanely modern, sterile house. 

As you walk through the atrium and into the main body of the house, it’s clear it is a family home. Anakin uses his foot to sweep his kids’ shoes out of the way so you don’t trip over them. “Sorry about the mess.” 

“It’s okay,” you shrug. Anakin’s house isn’t even all that messy. It just looks like a home. There are so many pictures on the walls, it would be impossible to look at all of them in one go. One in particular, though, catches your eye. It’s the largest out of all of them and the only one in black and white. A significantly younger Anakin is at the bedside of who you presume to be his wife with two bundles of babies in their arms. They are both looking down and smiling. His wife was stunning. They definitely made an attractive couple. 

It’s not lost on you that there are no other pictures of Anakin’s kids with their mom. He’s only spoken about his wife’s death in one interview, about a year after her passing. If you remember correctly, she died shortly after the twins were born. 

You can’t imagine the kind of pain and heartache Anakin must have felt losing his wife. You don’t know what it feels like to experience that kind of grief. You want to tell Anakin you’re sorry for his loss, but what good will that do? Is there any consolation in that at all? 

You’re still looking at the photo when Anakin returns from Luke’s room with a new pair of tan pants. You can feel his presence right beside you and the silence is louder than words. 

He shouldn’t have brought you back here. It’s only your first day and you’ve already seen too much of his life. 

“Let’s go,” Anakin orders. You nod without a word and follow him out to the car. 

The tension in the air is palpable on your way to St. Lucas Prep. You feel like you’ve done something wrong by simply stepping foot in Anakin’s house. His whole demeanor shifted when he came back to the front room with Luke’s pants. Does he regret bringing you to the house? If so, why? Dorothy clearly laid out your responsibilities to you. Tending to personal matters at Anakin’s house is part of the job. You are not just a professional assistant, but a personal assistant, too.

You can’t stand not knowing why someone is upset with you. “Did I do something wrong?” 

Anakin’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. “No.” 

Wow, how reassuring. “Okay, then why do I feel like I did something to upset you?” 

You’re really pressing your limit with him right now. You’ve only just met 2 hours ago. See, this is why meeting him should’ve been part of the hiring process. You’d be a lot more acquainted with each other than you are right now. 

If only you knew how acquainted Anakin is with you… 

“You didn’t,” is all he says. But with a twitch of his jaw, you still feel like he’s not telling you the truth. 

“Look, Mr. Skywalker,” you begin. “I understand Dorothy meant a great deal to you, and her leaving is going to be an adjustment. But I promise you I am capable of this job. I’m never late, I’m up late all the time so if there was anything you needed, I’d be able to fulfill it. I love kids, I’m a hard worker and I would really appreciate it if you gave me a chance before making any decisions about me.” 

“You’re right,” Anakin says. “I’ll give you a chance.”  But he’s already made up his mind. He doesn’t have to ‘give you a chance’ to know that he wants you. He is crawling out of his skin with how badly he wants you. And he knows it’s wrong, probably immoral, but he really doesn’t care. Because now that you’ve been inside of his home, the boundary that should exist between him as your boss and you as his employee feels impossibly blurry.

◂ series masterlist ▸ chapter three

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x f!reader #dilf!anakin skywalker #dilf!anakin #dilf anakin skywalker #modern!anakin skywalker #modern anakin skywalker #modern au #anakin skywalker fan fiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #as fate would have it

[mountainsandmayhem]

Shhh...Just A Little Bit More

Part Three (Soft Version)

DBF!Joel x Female!Reader - 18+

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 (Spicy Version)

Summary: Joel Miller caught you working where you shouldn't be after you promised to quit. Now he's taking matters into his own hands. Word Count 4.7k

CW: DBF!, Dom!, SoftDom!, use of nicknames (baby, sweet pea, baby girl etc.), Sub/Dom, DD/LG, use of a collar, use of toys. no use of y/n. no description of reader except for piercings. Praise, degradation. After care.

AN: THANK YOU for all your love on parts 1 and 2. I was in my feels when I wrote this, so this is the sweeter version of the two. I'd love to hear which version you preferred!

“Hey, buddy. It’s Joel.”

“Joel?” You can hear your dad’s muffled and panicked voice through the receiver. “Where’s my daughter? Why do you have her phone? It’s 5 am!” 

“Remember that time Sarah ran away to your house and you told me that one day I might be doing the same for you?” 

Your dad is silent for a while, a distorted higher pitched voice filters through before you hear your dad again, “It’s alright honey. She’s with Joel.” He lets out a deep sigh before adding, “I thought we skipped the rebellious phase with her.”

“She’s a good girl. I think she just needs some time to cool off.” Joel says, his voice is friendly and light.

You squeeze your thighs together and nuzzle deeper into Joel’s throat. You know what you need, and it isn’t to cool off. He and your dad have been friends since the day he moved in down the street. You were seven and Sarah was eleven, you thought she was the coolest person on the planet. Wonder what she’d think of you now, cuddled up against her dad after he just edged the fuck out of you after spanking you in an alleyway. You’re lost in your thoughts as Joel talks with your parents for a while.

A sane person would stop being so turned on right now. Fuck, I need Joel. So badly. Maybe I should rile him up some more. 

“I’ll come by this afternoon,” Joel hugs you tighter, bringing you back to the conversation. “Ya, if she wants to, I’ll bring her. She’s ok, just never seen her more - frustrated.” 

You squeeze his side, knowing he’s smirking about how frustrated and needy you truly are right now. He hangs up the phone and brings his lips to yours, kissing you harder this time. You moan into his mouth, hands roaming up his body to tangle in his hair. 

Holy shit, Joel Miller is kissing me. 

As you run your nails along his scalp he lets out a pleasurable sounding gasp. Oh, he likes that, he likes that very much. 

Got ya, you think to yourself. 

He pulls away to see you smiling at him. “This is why I usually tie naughty girls down,” his voice is completely different from how it was just moments ago. Deeper, more commanding, and it reverberates through you, right to your pussy. “Because they think they’ve found spots that will get them what they want. Let’s go home now, darlin’.” 

Joel’s front door has barely closed before he’s pushing you up against the wall, caged in by his arms and strong chest. 

Every bump on the drive home had you twitching, you tried your hardest not to gasp and moan but the combination of the gravel road, your insane state of heightened arousal, and the lack of underwear in your stiff denim shorts were all working against you. 

“Did you come on the drive home?” He says coldly, lips pressing against your neck, hitting that sweet soft spot just below your ear. 

“No, Joel,” you whine. 

His teeth graze your throat and you cry out, “It’s Mr Miller, don’t make me remind you again.” 

Your hands scramble for purchase as your knees start to give out, wrapping around the open flannel shirt he’s wearing over a fitted black t-shirt. 

“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I don’t…” you trail off, you aren’t sure if you should say you’ve never been a sub before, at least not to someone this experienced. You don’t want him to stop, you love what happened tonight and you want him to show you and teach you what this all means. But even more so, you trust him to teach you. 

Joel stops kissing you, hands coming to your waist and lifting you so your eye level. When you wrap your legs around his trim waist you gasp out in a mix of pleasure and pain. Your poor cunt is begging for relief but you can’t barely stand your clit to be touched. His eyes look at you with concern. 

I deserve to go to hell if she tells me she’s a virgin. Fuck, you were so stupid when it comes to her. 

“I need you to finish that sentence, babygirl. You don’t what?” 

Your cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink, so shy compared to that bratty girl who told him to kiss his ass. Joel has the gut sinking feeling that you might have him wrapped around your little finger already.

Dangerous.

Very very dangerous.

Not to mention stupid. 

“I’ve just..” you start, he brings his hands to cup your face, moving a few strands of stray hairs that are stuck to your lips. “I haven’t had a Dom before. I don’t know what to do or what to call you.” 

Cute, Joel thinks to himself, she’s so fucking cute right now. 

“Well babygirl, when we are playing like this you do what I tell you, and if you don’t like what I tell you, you use the safe word. Do you remember it?”

You nod, biting your lip as you whisper, “Cowboy.” 

His face lights up with pride and in that moment you realize you’ll do anything to have him look at you like that again. And when he throws in a gravelly, ‘good girl’, any inhibitions you had go out the window. You are a good girl, you want to be his good girl…forever. 

He continues, “And when we are playing you call me Mr Miller. Otherwise, you can call me whatever you’d like.” He places a light kiss on the tip of your nose and you melt a little more into him and the wall behind you. “Do you have any other questions, baby?” 

Do you know what it does to me when you call me baby? 

Or kiss my nose or forehead like you have? 

Can you spank me again? 

Can you make me come? 

Can I suck your dick? 

How do you feel about anal? 

“Umm,” you press your lips together, eyes taking in every little bit of his face, trying to memorize this moment. “How will I know when we are playing and when we aren’t?” 

Fuck, if this girl lets me put a collar on her I’m going to come in my pants and then propose. 

“There’s my smart girl,” he praises, his coffee and caramel coloured eyes washing over you. “We can have a symbol, something I give you when we play. And when you’re wearing it you’re mine.” His voice sounds full of passion all of a sudden, each work almost sears itself onto your heart. 

Your heart is pounding at what he’s implied and you’re almost sure he can hear it. “What kind of symbol?” 

He puts you down and then gets on one knee to untie your shoes and help you slip them off. His warm fingertips trail up your legs as he stands before taking your hand in his. With his large palm encasing yours, suddenly you feel safe and loved, your pussy flutters at the promise of him taking care of you in a way that only he can. You know you’re going to be ruined for all other men. 

He leads you to his bedroom and it’s nothing like you remember when you’d play hide and seek while Sarah babysat you. Gone is the old wooden furniture and mismatched bedding. Replaced with a black metal bed frame, along with matching bedside tables and dresser, and the fluffiest white sheets you’ve ever seen. You so badly want to just sink in and get naked with Joel. It looks like it would be like getting fucked on a cloud or cotton candy and those thoughts are only solidified when he tells you to sit before he heads to the closet doors. 

He slides the barn door of his large walk-in closet open. The room seems to wrap you up in Joel’s scent, warm and spicy with a hint of vanilla. As he walks into the closet he toes off his boots and then slides his flannel off, placing it on a hanger. It might be your very neglected pussy talking, but you swear you can see every muscle in his body underneath that shirt and you unconsciously spread your legs a little bit. He reaches up above the clothing and pulls out a black box with a lock on it and then looks at you mischievously as he pads back over to you. 

“Sometimes,” he says gently, “A dom will give their sub a collar. When it’s on, we’re playing. You belongs to me. When it’s off, we can just act how we normally would.” 

A collar, definitely not sure how you feel about that. You don’t want to be like a dog with a black leather collar around your neck. He slides the numbers to enter the combination and then flicks the clasp open. 

To your surprise, he pulls out a dainty golden chain. It almost looks like a bunch of yellow paper clips strung together, and there’s a tiny lock pendant on the end. He runs the thin links through his fingers before looking over at you. 

“You don’t have to do this, I can just take you home and we can go back to how things were. Ultimately, you always have the choice.” If a stranger could see the way he was looking at you right now, they’d never be able to tell he was capable of the spanking he gave you earlier. 

“You’ll stop if I say ‘cowboy’?” You say, voice cracking, nervous and excited energy fighting for first place. 

“Always, babygirl. I’m here to dominate you, but I’m also here to take care of you. A good dom will always take of their sub.” 

“Then I want to. Please, Mr Miller. Make me yours.” 

He almost growls as he pulls you to your feet. You squeal as he hoists you over his shoulder, his hands strong on the back of your thighs as he carries you to the floor-length mirror at the end of his closet. He stands behind you as he works the clasp, placing the thin gold collar around your neck and then doing it up. He’s so close that you can feel his cock harden at the sight of you as he officially makes you as his for the first time. Joel's thick fingers trace along the rings, he thumbs the little lock pendant before he grips your throat just below your jawline. He applies pressure to your pulse point as his now black eyes come to meet yours in the reflection and brings his lips to your ear. 

With a growling, rough whisper he says, “You have five seconds to get naked and lay in my bed with your legs spread as wide as you can.” 

The instant his hand releases, you sprint to his bed, stripping your clothes as you go. He counts to five with authority and after what happened his truck, and now this, you��re sure you’re never going to be able to count without getting turned on ever again. 

“Such an eager little thing, aren’t you?” 

Desperate to hear him praise you, you lay on your back, planting your feet on the bed before letting your knees fall open. 

“Straighten your legs and put your hands above your head.” You position your body how he says, even though you’re completely exposed to him his eyes stay locked on yours. “This is how I want you when we start playing. Exactly how you are now.” 

He grabs another box from his closet and places it on the foot of the bed, eyes travelling up your toned legs, “I’m going to show you what you’ll be going to work with inside of you tomorrow if you decide to stay there. I haven’t forgotten that you were a brat tonight.” 

He opens the box and pulls out a black U-shaped piece of silicone and lays it on your belly. “Do you know what this….” 

He stops mid-sentence, eyes lighting up as they rake over your tits. They dance from each nipple, taking in the tiny barbell and the thin hearts that encompass each one. “You are a naughty little thing, aren’t you?” 

“I like pain,” you whisper, throat going dry at the admission. 

“My little masochist,” he hums. “As I was saying, do you know that is?” He nods his head towards the little toy. 

You shake your head, “No, Mr Miller.” 

“That goes inside your gorgeous pussy. One part pushes on your g spot, the other on your clit. I have the remote.” He holds up a small plastic remote with a few shiny buttons.

“Oh,” you moan, your lips forming in the shape of the word, nipples getting harder at the thought.

“I will keep it turned on low enough that you will not come. In fact, it might be more like torture than pleasure.” His eyes are sparkling at the thought of you squirming for hours.

“But I don’t want to quit,” you whine. You’re a glutton for punishment and you know Joel will dish it out. 

“How long is your shift?” He says, picking up the toy, the graze of his fingers along your belly sends an electric current through your body. 

“Four hours,” your voice is husky with need. 

“I’m going to get some lube and then put this toy inside of you now, babygirl. We’ll see how long you can last. Is that okay?” 

“Of course, Mr Miller.” You try to sound confident but in the bright lights of his room, you can see how dark and serious he looks. 

He lubes up the toy and then swipes some lube through your folds. Your back arches off the bed and you let out a loud high pitched moan when he hits your clit. 

Fuck. I’m gonna come with the tiniest vibration and it’s probably going to hurt. 

“So wet. So swollen. My poor girl,” he says mockingly, he’s loving that you’ve been suffering and on edge since the minute you saw him in that alleyway. 

The toy slides in and the pressure just from the silicone alone sends the air whooshing out of your lungs. You’re gasping for breath, your clit feels like it’s being zapped with electricity and you immediately slam your thighs together and start to whimper. 

A small, almost evil sounding chuckle comes from Joel as he holds up the remote. “Ready?” 

“No,” you gasp, rolling onto your belly. “I can’t. Please don’t.” 

“Are you going to quit?” 

You cry out in frustration into one of his fluffy pillows and then whisper a sad, “no.” 

The vibrator comes to life and the most intense mix of pain and pleasure floods your body. He’s right, the sensation isn’t enough to make you come, just enough so that you know it’s there. You bury your face deeper in the pillows, curling yourself into the fetal position, back towards Joel, as you try to breathe normally. 

Joel strips down to his boxers before shutting off the lights. He slips into the sheets, covering you up along the way. “Good night, baby girl.” 

“What?” You gasp. “Mr Miller. I….oh god…I c-can’t. It’s on.” 

“You may as well get used to it. You’re going to work with it in tomorrow. No more talking. Go to sleep.” 

Joel lays on his back, one arm behind his head, the other palm spread out on his chest. You flip around to face him, the early morning sun lighting his profile. There’s no way you’re going to be able to sleep, you shift your legs around. 

Maybe if they’re spread I won’t feel the vibration as much. 

That doesn’t seem to work so instead you squeeze them together. More pressure might make you come and then you can finally get some rest. Joel looks over at you as you jerk around silently. 

“Come here,” he says, patting his chest. You cuddle into him, one leg draping over his warm body. The arm behind his head wraps around your naked body. He feels so soft but hard against you. You can’t help but hump against his hip bone. You’re right on the edge. So close to tipping over it and coming. So very close. 

“Baby, it hasn’t even been four minutes, how are you going to last four hours?” He’s taunting you, trying to get you to beg. “You’re pathetic.” 

You can feel sweat breaking out across your body. This is torture, was right. You hate that he was right, but you hate even more how much he’s loving it. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

He pulls back to be able to look into your eyes. “What are you going to do for me if I make you come?” 

“Anything. Just. Please, Mr Miller.” You grind yourself into him harder, you’re so close that it’s almost unbearable. 

“Quit your job, baby girl.” He demands again. “I’ll tell your parents you’re going to work for me.” 

You start to pant as the pressure in your lower belly increases, you can feel wetness pooling inside of you, begging to be released. “I can’t take your money. Oh god - please - I ca-can’t. Hnnnnng. P-please.” 

A tear runs down your cheek and you’re not even sure why you’re crying, probably out of frustration.  

“You can. I’ll pay you to help around the house,” he holds up a hand, almost like he knows exactly what you’re doing today. “Not for the sex you’re guaranteed to get if you quit and come here.” He wipes the tear away and hikes his leg up to increase the pressure that’s already on the verge of making you pass out. 

Stars start to blur your vision as you whisper, “ok. I’ll quit.” 

Joel has you flipped onto your back, trapped under his weight before you can even register what’s happening. He’s kissing you deeply, tongue taking what it wants as your legs kick and shake under him. 

“Please!” You cry between kisses. 

His thick fingers slide between your puffy folds and the toy, you scream out as he pulls the toy from you. 

“Shhh…just a little bit more. I’m going to make it better,” he says gently, kissing down your neck, swirling his tongue around each nipple piercing. 

“Please. Please. Please, Mr Miller. Please. It hurts. I need, please.” You’re a mumbling mess and the words leaving your lips are practically incomprehensible. 

“I know. Relax baby. Breathe.” He says between kisses down your sternum, his tongue tracing your curves. When he finally settles in between your thighs he swallows hard, he wants to dive right in, make you drench his face as you come. “Look at me, darlin’.” 

His warm breath hits your pussy and you fight your hips from bucking up to his face as prop yourself up on an elbow and try to focus your eyesight on him. You didn’t know it was possible to be so turned on that you practically had tequila vision. 

His voice is serious yet calm as he says, “I’m going to make you come using my fingers and my tongue. Is that ok?” 

You nod your head and a faint ‘yes’, leaves your lips. 

“Can I lick and touch both the outside and inside of this beautiful, weeping, pussy?” 

His words from earlier echo through you. Ultimately, you always have the choice. 

Joel Miller would never do something you didn’t want and that sets your soul on fire. He cares. About you. Only you. Wants to do things for you. You are not a burden here. You are not a burden to him. 

“Yes, Mr Miller. Please. Touch me.” The room suddenly feels twenty degrees hotter, you can feel sweat beading on your skin. 

“What’s your safe word?” 

“Cowboy,” you hum, never taking your eyes away from his blown out obsidian gaze. 

“That’s my girl,” he says, sliding his ring and middle finger around your desperate entrance. You cry out, dropping your body to the bed. Pleasure. Overwhelming pleasure. “No no baby girl, eyes on me.” 

You somehow muster the strength to raise yourself onto shaky arms. His two strong fingers slide deep into your heat with minimal resistance and you immediately start gasping. Pleasure. Life altering, heart stopping pleasure. 

“Fuuuuck. Baby. So tight. Have you ever squirted before?” His cheeks are flushed with need. He might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. 

Your breasts rise and fall with your ragged breaths. You shake your head and moan out a ‘no’. 

He smiles down at your dripping cunt, “I can feel it. Gotta relax for me. Just breathe and let it happen.” 

Nerves flutter in your stomach and then he curls his fingers forward, putting so much pressure on a soft spongy spot that you didn’t know existed. On instinct, your knees try to close but his wide frame keeps you open. You yell his name to the ceiling, he knows he should punish you for not calling him Mr Miller but you look so goddamn beautiful as you start to fall apart. 

“Breathe baby,” he says as he curls his fingers once, twice, three more times. You can hear how wet you are and the pressure becomes unbearable. Stars blur your vision again, the walls of your pussy squeeze tightly around his fingers and then it’s just a blur. A blur of all consuming pleasure. 

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Come for me. Soak me. Good girl,” Joel’s free hand pressed down on your mound as a wet heat leaks all over you. “Good fuckin’ girl. Let go for me.” 

You’re not sure if you’re screaming or not, all you hear and feel is Joel. Everything is Joel. Strong hands, deep gravel voice, warm vanilla smell. He’s everywhere and you never want it to stop. 

“Keep going. That’s it. You look so beautiful,” he says, licking a long stripe up your fluttering pussy, drinking up your juices. “Oooh yeah - gooood giiirrll”

Almost immediately after your orgasm crests it becomes too much. You’re so overstimulated that it hurts and your moans of pleasure become cries of pain. You forget your name, where you are, you even forget your safe word. But Joel knows, he always knows. 

He stops pumping his fingers and says your name, “look at me sweet pea.”

You blink slowly, you’re wrecked, barely able to keep your eyelids open, almost convinced they’ve been replaced with steel. You’re sucking in air, did you not breathe that entire time? 

“Breathe baby, you’re ok.” He says, stilling his fingers until you’re ready. 

“I’m sorry, Mr Miller. I know I called you Joel. I won’t do it again.” 

There she goes again, being so fucking cute. “It’s ok, darlin’ girl. I want you to let loose when you come.” He places a few light kisses along your thighs. The sheets and his t-shirt a soaked, he’ll need to change things before you both get some sleep. “I’m gonna pull my fingers out.” 

You fall back to the bed and fist the sheets to ground yourself as he slides his fingers out. “You did such a good job. Made a huge mess. I’m so proud of you, babygirl.”

Every bone and muscle in your body seems to have dissolved and all you can muster is a weak smile and a little whimper of thanks. “I need to get you cleaned up. Stay here.” 

Stay here? I have no bones. Where else will go? 

The sound of running water coaxes your eyes to close. The mattress shifts under Joel’s weight as he sits beside you, lightly trailing his finger down the bridge of your nose. “I’m going to carry you to the shower. Ok?” 

You let out an agreeable hum as he scoops you into his arms. His warm naked chest pressed against you. He walks into the shower with you, the steam warming your skin. He places you on your feet and guides you under the water with him. Water is hitting you from all angles. You open your eyes to see 3 showerheads in his large, modern glass shower. A large rainfall one above the two of you, then two down the wall. The bundle of fresh eucalyptus hanging from one head fills the shower with a fresh scent. 

His fingers fumble with the clasp of your collar behind you, “how are you feeling after what happened tonight?” 

You smile at the white and black tiled wall as the collar slides off your neck and into Joel’s hands. “Mmm - like I’m not gonna quit my job so we can do it again.” 

“Don’t think I won’t put this on again right now and make you regret that.” 

You giggle and press your body back into Joel’s. He’s completely naked behind you and you have the sudden urge to taste him. As you spin around and get to your knees he stops you, “don’t interrupt my aftercare, please.” 

“Your what?” 

He grabs the soap and a fresh wash cloth and starts to work it to lather. “I told you, it’s my job to take care of you.” It’s too early to admit it to you, but aftercare is Joel’s favourite part. He’s grumpy and rough on the outside, but he loves the tender moments after playing with his subs. Especially you, and that’s something he won’t even admit to himself yet. 

He runs the soft cloth over your arms and chest, using extra caution not to catch on your nipple piercings. I like these,” he says, eyes memorizing every inch of the skin he’s washing. 

“Thanks, you’re actually the first person to see them.” 

“That right?” He moves the cloth down your stomach before kneeling in front of you and washing your legs. “You know what I think you should pierce next?” 

“I have an appointment next week for something,” you tease. It’s not a lie, you have an appointment to get a second hole in each earlobe, but may as well play with him a little. 

“Oh? Don’t tease an old man like that, baby girl. What new surprise am I gonna find?” He brings the cloth up and down your other leg. 

“What do you want to find?” 

His hands grip your hips and he spins you around. You have a small bruise forming on your one ass cheek and his cock jumps at the sight. “Belly button,” he says. 

“Oh?” You say with surprise as he stands behind you and scrubs your back. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and add, “I was thinking of doing my clit.” 

Joel’s hands come to his heart as he moans. “Fuck me, baby girl. I’d have to leave the god damn continent until it healed.” 

You laugh as he brings his lips to yours. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you aren’t wearing a collar. But he’s kissing you and washing your body. Does this mean that Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend, might have the same sort of feelings that you have? Or is this just what he does with his subs after dehydrating them with his fingers and tongue. 

“Stay in the warm water while I change the sheets. I’ll be back,” you look over your shoulder to finally take in his naked body. His back is lined with corded muscle, water droplets filling the dips and grooves of his sculpted body. It looks like you could bounce your whole fucking bank account off his round ass. 

Am I salivating. I feel like I’m salivating. 

He wraps a white bath sheet around his waist before you get to see his front - as much as you loved being taken care of earlier you should have looked down. You run some shampoo and conditioner through your hair, rinsing it out just as Joel comes back, now in a pair of fitted boxer briefs. He holds up a towel for you, and after turning off the water you pad over to him for him to wrap you up and gently dry you off. 

“Thank you, Mr Miller,” you say instinctively. 

He smiles softly at you as he dries every inch of your skin. “Go lay down, babygirl. I’ll get some lotion and then you need to get some sleep.” 

When you walk out to his bed there’s a t-shirt and a bottle of water on the pillow for you. 

Fuck. I’m in love. 

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey @iluvurfather@ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30

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[slut4thebroken]

Earn Your Prize

── ⋆���☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Reader x choose your own character

(Reader doesnt call him anything and there’s nothing in the writing to indicate that it’s one character or another except maybe the pet names used, so pick whoever you want and enjoy<3 (this is who I was picturing but you can literally choose anyone with a dick lol: Jackson Rippner, Jonathan Crane, Thomas Shelby, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bucky Barnes, etc.))

Summary | Character of your choice wants to try something new.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, 69 sex position, oral m receiving, praise, humiliation, face fucking, deep throating, throat pie lolll, held down hehe, filthy disgusting nasty oral sex, that’s literally it, no f orgasm, but not in a douchey way lol I just didn’t feel like writing it.

Words | 1.3 k

Notes | Idk man I’m going through a phase, don’t judge me. Also I wrote this in one day lol so I might edit it again later but for now I think I like it skdhdk

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Let’s play a game, princess. Get up here.” He moved you on top of his body so that your front was flush with his and your face was hovering above his already throbbing cock. “You’re going to stay on my cock, no matter what. Feel free to hold yourself up so it doesn’t go too deep.” He explained and you were confused as to how this was a game, but agreed anyway. “On your knees.” You frowned when you realized that meant he wouldn’t be eating you out. Instead of complaining, you obeyed and bent your legs so you were kneeling with your shoulders resting on his lower stomach. 

“Put it in your mouth and get ready.” You wrapped your lips around the tip and waited for the next instruction. “Hands behind your back.” You obeyed, but the second you weren’t holding yourself up, you were all but impaled on his cock, making him moan loudly. When you tried to move your arms back to hold yourself up, he grabbed them and kept them on your back. 

“Hold yourself up and you won’t choke.” 

No shit. You wanted to say. Instead you did your best to lift your head a little, letting you get in a shaky breath of much needed air. You couldn’t hold the position for long though and you fell back down, gagging when he breached your throat barrier. 

“Atta girl. If you can’t take it, all you have to do is hold yourself up.” You let out a strangled whine and tried to hold yourself up again, but you barely managed to lift off his cock more than an inch, and you didn’t last long either. The strain in your muscles was too much and you whimpered as you fell back down. 

When you started squirming and moving your legs to try and get in a position that would make this easier, he took both of your arms in one hand, then used the other to roughly slap your ass, making you jolt forward and choke when his cock went impossibly deeper in your throat. 

“No cheating.” He said sternly. You could barely hear him over your loud choking and gagging. Tears were quickly welling in your eyes as you remained there. 

You gagged the hardest you had so far and your body all but convulsed as you sputtered around him, making all the saliva that built up in your mouth roll down his balls onto the bed. It was getting on your chin and your nose and you felt completely and utterly filthy, but you couldn’t help the way it made you squirm, this time because of arousal. 

You were fully crying now, but you managed to control the gagging as you tried to take deep breaths through your nose. This is the longest he’s ever had you stay like this and you’re not sure how much more you can take, but you want to be good for him, so you kept trying. 

He used his grip on your arms to pull you up a little, lifting you off his cock barely two inches to let you take in a deep breath and have a break from the constant pressure on your gag reflex. 

“That better?” He asked with mock sympathy, but you hummed in agreement anyway. He suddenly bucked his hips up, making you gag loudly and try to flinch away, but you couldn’t move anywhere. He started fucking your mouth roughly and you weren’t sure what was worse; this or being forced to stay all the way down. 

“God— You’re fucking dripping on my chest.” He said through a groan, making you whine, but the sound cut off into a garbled moan when his cock punched the back of your mouth again. 

“Should I eat your pretty pussy?” You tried to agree, but the words were unintelligible with his cock in your mouth. “Win the game and I’ll let you ride my face— Earn your prize, baby.” He decided and you couldn’t help the loud, strangled moan that escaped you, but you still wondered how you were even supposed to win. Maybe he’s wanting you to stay here until he comes? You hoped it was that because based off of his sounds and the frantic bucking of his hips, you knew he was getting close already. 

He suddenly stopped holding you up and you fell forward onto his cock, choking because you weren’t expecting to be dropped like that. You coughed and sputtered and whimpered, growing even more embarrassed and needy when you saw how much of a mess you were making. He started lazily rutting up into your face, slowly bringing himself to the edge and moaning at your struggling. 

“Such a good girl.” He cooed. “Does your cunt always get this wet when I fuck your face?” His tone was far too sweet for the crudeness of his words. All you could do was let out a garbled sound and squirm a little, wishing he’d stop teasing already. “Fuck I’m close.” He said through a breath. You braced yourself for what was about to happen— trying to remember that after this, you could pull off and cough and pant as much as you needed. 

His motions got more eager, rutting up into you as you choked each time his cock was forced even deeper down your throat. He let out a loud moan and you felt hot come hit the back of your throat. When you gagged and tried to pull away, he wrapped a leg over your head and pushed you down even farther as he shushed you. 

“I know. Doing so good, baby.” He groaned, but you could barely hear it. You were thrashing now, your body panicking at the lack of air and the constant pressure on your gag reflex as his cock twitched inside you. All he did was tighten his grip on your arms and push your head down harder with his leg, forcing you to stay there as he rode out his orgasm. 

He released your arms first and you immediately brought them forward to push yourself up, but your head was still trapped by his leg. You clawed at it, trying to get him to remove it so you could finally breathe again, and after a moment, he slowly lessened the pressure, then placed his leg on the bed. You shot up and coughed almost violently, whining when you saw the large glob of spit connecting your lips to his cock. You tried to spit it out, but it slid down your chin before landing on his cock and sliding down his balls to join the rest of the mess. 

He rubbed soothing circles on your hips while you caught your breath and calmed down. When your breathing finally returned to a somewhat normal intensity, you sat up a little more, waiting for what was next. 

“Clean your mess.” 

“But,” You cut off with a choked moan when he landed a hard slap on your ass. Tentatively leaning down, you licked at it, trying to clean it. Honestly you thought you were only making the mess worse, but you knew that this wasn’t really about you cleaning him. 

“All of it.” You whined, but worked your way down to his balls, lapping up the spit as best you could. “You can do better than that.” He said, sounding almost annoyed, then wrapped his leg around your head again and pushed your face into his cock and balls, covering you in spit. “I said, clean it.” He growled when you didn’t do anything. You stuck your tongue out, but it’s not like you could lick anything with how hard he was holding you down. When he started grinding his hips, rubbing his spit soaked cock on your face, you whined quietly as your whole face heated up from the humiliation. 

“There you go.” He groaned, grinding against you even harder. He only continued for a few more seconds before releasing you and you let out a strangled whimper as soon as your head was free. He shushed you and lightly ran his thumb over your slit. “Such a good girl.” He said quietly, pulling your hips back so you were hovering over his face. 

“Take your prize now, baby.”

#jackson rippner x reader smut #jackson rippner smut #jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #jonathan crane smut #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #dick grayson x reader smut #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #dick grayson

[minisugakoobies]

It's You - Choi San | 3 AM

Pairing: San x Reader Genre: smut, crack, fluff, angst, roommates to lovers, BFF’s Lil Bro!AU Series Rating: M (18+) Drabble Warnings: sneaking around, sloppy making out, lots of cuddling and kissing, honestly this is super soft, drunk San is a whole different type of menace, a little angst on OC's part, pet names deployed as weapons (baby) Word Count: 2.1k Disclaimers: SFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: He was only supposed to be a temporary roommate. Your best friend’s little brother, crashing on your couch for a few weeks. That’s it. How did this happen?

A/N: This started with talking about drunk San with @minttangerines and @kiestrokes, and then @moni-logues made me miss this couple, so boom! New vignette! I should warn you that I wrote this over the course of 2 days, entirely between the hours of midnight and 5 am because I've been staying up wayyyy too late to watch the Coachella livestreams (can we talk about Chellateez?! because holy shit!), so it's probably a mess and it's unbeta'd, so… blame any typos or incoherency on my fucked up sleep schedule! 🥱

Lyrics are from "Moondance" by Van Morrison, inspired by that one toktoq of San singing that song, which absolutely killed me.

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment, or send me an ask to be added! You can also send me any ideas/thoughts you might have for a future scenario - who knows, it might end up in a drabble! 💕

It’s You Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ ATZ Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ Main Masterlist

It’s three in the morning, and you’re wide awake, at your desk, working frantically on an article whose deadline is mere hours away. For not the first time tonight, you curse your natural inclination towards procrastination and scrub your hand down your face, wishing you’d chosen a different career. 

There’s some noise outside your door and you realize San must be home. He’d been down at the Blue Bird with Hongjoong, drinking and hanging out with Wooyoung as he bartended. From the way San’s shuffling around, it sounds like Woo had been his typical kind self and given San more generous pours than he should have. A loud “oof” resonates, and you hear the armchair scrape the floor a bit, as if he were setting it back in its place. You wince, hoping he didn’t wake his sister, who has an early shift and needs to be up at dawn.

“Noona. Nooooooona.” Tap tap tappity tap. “Are you up? I can see - I can see your light.” 

San raps on your door, calling out to you in a voice that’s hushed but maybe not quite as quiet as he thinks it is. From his spot on your bed, Nero lifts his head off his paws at the sound, then blinks at you with his bright green eyes. 

“I know. He’s loud as fuck, isn’t he?” With a cluck of your tongue, you quickly hop up and open the door. San must’ve been leaning against it, because suddenly you’ve got a mountain on top of you, a loose-limbed one at that, eagerly but clumsily wrapping its arms around you. “San!” 

“Hiiiii,” San coos into your shoulder, where he’s buried his face. You shudder slightly as his breath tickles your skin exposed by the tank top you wear, and stagger away from the door enough to close it quietly as you can, not an easy task to do given the giant mass of man hanging his dead weight on you. 

“You know, your sister is sleeping just on the other side of this wall,” you remind him, but he doesn’t respond, too busy lathering the column of your neck with tiny kisses. “San. Come on, sit down.” 

With some stumbling from San and a not insignificant effort on your part, the two of you make it over to your bed. Your attempt at coaxing San into a sitting position fails miserably as he promptly splays on his back, pulling you on top of him. Nero hops off the bed in a huff. 

You go down like a sack of flour, not a gram of gracefulness in your fall, but San appears not to notice when your chin bounces off his sternum or your knee rams his thigh. He sighs contentedly, wrapping his arms around your back, tucking you against him.

“Mmmm. So nice,” he murmurs, resting his cheek against the top of your head. 

It’s three in the morning, and you need to finish this damn article. Except that right now, your body is telling you that what you really need is to stay exactly where you are. Because the minute the warmth of San’s embrace surrounded you, your stress melted away. The steady rise and fall of his chest calms you, makes your own breathing slow. You close your eyes, nestling closer to him, sliding your own arms around his waist. You could so easily fall asleep like this. 

But he can’t sleep here. 

“San. San, are you awake?” 

“I’m awake,” he replies, but with closed eyes, which doesn’t really give you a lot of confidence in his response. “I am,” he insists when you shake him, rolling his head away, but he still doesn’t look at you.

“Don’t fall asleep,” you warn him sternly. “I mean it!” 

San smiles, the one that tells you that he knows you’re going to give in to him, which is the smile you tend to see him flash the most often, because you’re weak for him and always giving in. But this isn’t one of those times when you can indulge him. No matter how much you want to. 

“Wish you’d come to the bar tonight. Wanted you there.” 

You knew that. He’d told you as much when he’d texted earlier. Unfortunately, you had to turn him down for the sake of remaining gainfully employed. He’d tried to convince you otherwise at first but finally said he understood. And then sent you a series of sad selfies, each one more pathetic than the last, lips puffing to an extreme. Because he understands the power that pout holds over you.

It’s embarrassing how bad you’re down for this man.

San’s fingers dance idly down your spine, and you sigh, eyes slipping shut again as you speak. “Believe me, I would’ve rather been there with you.” 

He hums, fingertips quickening their light minuet. He mumbles something into your hair, low and unintelligible from the way his lips are smushed against your head, so it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s not talking, he’s singing. 

“... marvelous night for a moondance, with the stars up above in your eyes…” 

“San,” you begin, but before you can warn him not to get any louder, he does so anyway, raising his beautiful voice a little, starting to get into it. 

“A fantabulous night to make romance, 'neath the cover of October skies…”

“Shhh!” Your shushing is cut short by your giggling, as you clap a hand over San’s mouth. “Oh my god, now is not the time for this!” 

This is one of San’s more notable habits - when a song gets stuck in his head, you’ll hear him singing it for days, just walking around the apartment humming the melody or, if he has an audience, belting out the lines. He knows how much you love his sweet tenor. Another fact about you he’s filed away to devastate you with at the most opportune times.

Like when you need to kick him out of your bed. 

He continues singing despite your hand pressing on his lips, slurring the words directly into your palm. His eyebrows are working overtime, top half of his face playfully conveying whatever lyrics are being smothered against your skin. He’s so ridiculous, so over-the-top, even at three in the morning when anyone else would be exhausted, like you felt before he walked into your room, since his energy is infectious and perked you up better than the multiple cups of coffee you downed in your desperate attempt to stay awake. That’s San for you - he’s always giving you something when you need it - his time, his help, his energy. 

So you decide to give him something back, and replace your hand with your mouth, drawing him into a tender kiss, imbuing it with all those things you feel but never say. His muffled singing becomes a hum becomes a moan, at first surprised, then pleased. One of his hands drops to your thigh and with a bit of urgent tugging, he maneuvers you on top of him, chest pressed to chest.

His kissing is only the slightest bit sloppier when he’s been drinking, wetter from his tongue caressing yours with somewhat less skill than usual, but it’s never bothered you. You like seeing this side of him, looser with his inhibitions, with whatever holds him in place - or holds him back. One day you’ll ask him to show you more, when you’re both sober. 

And when things are different. Less… ambiguous between the two of you. 

If you reach that point. 

“Noona.” San whispers, thankfully pulling you from the heavier thoughts threatening to sink you right out of the moment. You open your eyes to look at him as he pecks your cheeks.  “I like kissing you.” 

You grin, letting your forehead knock against his. “Yeah, I kinda noticed.” 

“Aren’t you going to say it back?” The look he gives you would melt the hardest of hearts. This is why you’re not afraid to be needy with San. There’s no reason to be, not when he’s just the same. 

“I like kissing you too,” you declare, kissing the tip of his nose, laughing at the way his eyes cross as he follows your lips. “But now’s not the time for that, either.” 

“Then what time is it?”

Laughing, you gently guide him into a sitting position, keeping your arms looped over his shoulders. His lust is morphing into sleepiness, eyelids drooping as he gazes at you, and your heart goes so soft at the sight of him. 

“It’s time for you to go to bed.” 

“Okay,” he chirps, immediately flopping onto his back again. 

“Ohhhh no, not here. You gotta go. I still have to finish my work, and you…” The words stick in your throat. You can’t be here. You don’t want to say them. You want him to be here. Tonight, and tomorrow, and on and on. 

But that’s a conversation for another time. Not three in the morning.

“You have to go,” you groan, sliding off the bed and grabbing his arms, less gentle and more insistent this time. “Come on, get up!” 

San lets out a whine of protest. “But baby, why can’t I stay here?” 

Oh, he would drop a ‘baby’ now, slipping it in so casually, so naturally, like there’s nothing unusual about him calling you that. As if it’s not something new he only started doing the other day, happening maybe a handful of times since. 

Since the two of you have been doing this undefined thing, there’s really only been one unspoken rule. You sleep in your bed, and he sleeps on the couch. Even on the nights when Haneul’s working the late shift, or she’s over at Jongho’s. You never know if she’ll come home early, so you don’t risk it. It’s just easier this way.

Doesn’t mean you like it, though. 

“Because. If Haneul catches you coming out of here - “

The sound of a door opening makes you freeze right down to your tongue, leaving your sentence unfinished. Your head swivels towards your own door. A pair of feet pad down the hall, getting closer, then fading away, until you hear another door being closed. The bathroom. 

“Noona.” 

You turn to find a sober-looking San staring at you. He reaches out, hands settling on your hips, holding on to you as you stand between his legs. Clinging again. 

“She’s in early today, right?” 

The two of you probably know Haneul’s schedule better than she does. You nod.

“Then I’ll just stay in here. She’ll think I never came home.” 

He makes it sound so simple. So reasonable. He’ll stay here until she leaves. Why didn’t you think of that? Is it because you don’t like thinking of San with someone else, even if said person is an imaginary person who exists solely to provide an excuse that will allow you to get what you want? And if you get what you want now, it’s only going to hurt more when you can’t have it anymore?

Yeah, that’s probably it. 

“I don’t know…” you bite your lip.

“Come on,” he wheedles, drawing you into his lap again, cupping your face with both hands. “Let me stay with you. Don’t you want me?” 

And there it goes, the last remaining bit of your resistance. 

“Okay.”

San seems a little shocked, face lighting up in delight, and you wonder if it’s at how quickly you agreed, or that you agreed at all. Maybe both.

“But we have to be quiet. So, you know…” You trail off, gesturing wordlessly. 

“No moondancing?” He emphasizes the word heavily, lifting a brow, and you roll your eyes but grin as well.

“Right, none of that.”

“Just cuddles?” 

As if he needs to ask. You nod. “But I’m not coming to bed until I finish my work.” You reclaim your seat at your desk, folding your arms over the back of it, trying to give the appearance of someone with a solid backbone, since yours is apparently made of pudding. 

“That’s okay,” San says, already tugging his shirt off, then his pants, until he’s only in his boxer briefs. He peels back your comforter, sliding into the soft sheets, and again the action is so natural, so normal, like he does this every night, that something in your chest constricts. “I’ll just wait for you.” 

Your first thought is that you should inform him that he’s going to be waiting a while, but then again, maybe he won’t. 

You’re feeling suddenly inspired. 

(It’s three in the morning, and you’re falling in love.)

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Taglist: @sweetnspicy-noona @krystal-a @jennylychee @hiefisch

© 2023-24 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

#ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #san x reader #choi san x reader #san fanfic #ateez angst #choi san fanfic #fic: it's you

[sc0tters]

His Girl | Nico Hischier

summary: it’s your one year anniversary when you and Nico are all nervous but for totally different reasons.

song: Paper Rings - Taylor Swift

request: yes/no

warnings: allusions to drinking.

word count: 1.64k

authors note: fluff is officially not my strong suit but I’ve really enjoyed writing these marriage repeated pieces for the celly! This literally aged like wine as I wrote it, started off shit but by the end we got somewhere good.

It was the only time you were grateful to be dragged to a club.

It was a warm summer night in London as your friends had gone for a girls trip. So of course they were all making the most of it.

Somehow on the fourth night your friends hadn’t gotten tired of the partying that they endured every evening as they went out clubbing. You seemed to miss that memo so you were brought along despite the complaints that left your lips. Those all quickly went silent when you locked eyes with him.

Nico much like yourself had been brought along and was now sat at the table as he nursed his drink.

That might neither one of you seemed to leave the others side. You didn’t know who he was until you went to the bar and overheard some fellow American tourists that the Swiss man you had grown so comfortable talking to wasn’t just Nico, he was Nico Hischier of the New Jersey Devils. Now you weren’t a hockey fan despite being from New York, but with your knowledge of both baseball and football you could only assume that it was a hockey team because New Jersey simply didn’t sound like a state that was going to produce a basketball team.

Nico had given you his number before your friends were ready to finally head back to your hotel. That night you turned google into your best friend in an attempt to learn more about the man who was clearly the man of your dreams.

Yes it sounded over reactive but it was the truth. Nico was someone who you truly just gelled with, the conversation rolled on for hours but it only seemed like it was minutes.

Throughout all of your life, you had never met someone who made you smile so much that your cheeks hurt, laughed so much that you didn’t think you could breathe anymore.

Arriving back in New York the pull the hockey player had in your mind hadn’t let up, whilst there were the worries that the number Nico had given you was fake your friends had quickly cleared your mind because “he looked at you like you were the only girl in that bar.”

Nico had gone back to Switzerland as he still had another month before he needed to be in New Jersey. The time difference was what he blamed your lack of communication on, you were going home two days after the night in that bar.

Although he knew it was stupid that didn’t stop him from checking his phone every time he heard a notification come in. That was why when your message finally came in the Devils captain almost fell over his own two feet.

you: hey stranger! next time you’re in New York let me know and I’ll give you the local tour 😉

And that was happened, Nico flew into JFK and found himself stood at your door with a smile on his face and your favourite flowers in hand.

Three months later when he was back but this time for hockey. Or at least that’s what he told himself because when you showed up at the Islanders game in his Jersey.

You pulled Nico into your arms as you congratulated him “you see that goal I scored for you?” He asked as he sent you a grin.

It was a clear shot done in a power play and all Nico could do was skate to the board where you were as he pointed at you.

Twitter was having a field day trying to figure out who you were and what you were to Nico “of course baby,” you nodded as you placed a kiss on his cheek.

You continued to toe the line or flirtation because no matter how much you wanted him, the fear of rejection was like a mental block that you couldn’t get past.

But when Nico hooked his fingers under your chin it caused your knees to almost give out “let me come back to yours?” That phrase had your mind combusting as you felt like you had just exploded into sparkles and confetti.

That night he asked you out.

The first year of your relationship was just as good as you had predicted. You had been given the name of team mom as the younger boys of the team would call Nico late at night just to ask you questions. They ranged with everything from girl advice to how you iron a shirt.

You ironed Jacks shirt for him and that also added to your title, you also had to take him dress shoe shopping but that was something you had been sworn to secrecy about.

It made Nico laugh how most times after games you seemed more proud of the other boys just playing because “their milestones mattered too.”

When the team made the playoffs for a second year in a row was when Nico told you he loved you. It was at the celebratory party when you walked outside for air “schatzi you okay?” Nico called out as he quickly found you where you were.

A smile formed on your lips “I’m perfect,” you spoke softly as your drunk boyfriend placed his hand on your waist.

His dopey grin made you laugh “I love you,” he confessed as he let your body rest against the wall behind you.

You let your fingers massage the nape of his neck “tell me that in the morning,” you reminded him as the liquor in his system was clear “no, no I love you baby.” The hockey player repeated his confession in his efforts to show that he was serious “I love you too,” a giggle left your lips as you kissed him.

A couple of months later and your one year anniversary had finally come around and you were stressed out.

Jack had been enlisted to keep you away from the apartment as Nico had a surprise that he was working.

It made you breathe out a sigh of relief though as you truly had no clue what to get Nico, even on the day of your anniversary you still didn’t know.

If Nico were to go into your closet and look behind your coats he’d find the six gifts you got, not because you wanted to go over board but because you really didn’t have a clue what you get the man who is literally the captain of a hockey team for their anniversary?

Sure Nico was romantic, bring home flowers when you had bad days at work, leaving sticky notes of little messages whenever he went on road trips longer than a week.

There would have been some comfort to you if Jack actually let you know how Nico felt as he ran around New Jersey.

In the last minute he decided that his design of your apartment wasn’t up to a standard that you’d enjoy and that’s what brought him to IKEA as he went to find fairy lights.

When Jack got the green light to bring you back you almost jumped out of the car when it was still moving “don’t me an uncle just yet!” Jack called out as he winded down the passenger window.

You turned around as grinned “no promises!” You shot back as you sent him a salute before you practically ran into the apartment building.

If you weren’t on the penthouse level you would have ran up the stairs, but instead you waited for the elevator.

The walk that was more like a speed walk to your apartment had your palms growing sweaty. You let the door open and your jaw practically dropped as you saw the way the dim fairy lights and candles that lit up your apartment “schatzi in the living room!” Nico called out as he took a last deep breath before he made sure he still had the box.

Tears welled in your eyes as you saw him down on one knee “when I first saw you in that pub I knew you were the woman of my dreams.” The guys that Nico went to England with didn’t let him live it down that his mind had been trapped in the view of you. Every time he zoned out they all knew what or who he was thinking about.

Nico’s speech continued even causing you to laugh at one point “I’ve even grown to not hate your hair in the shower drain.” You let out a snort as you sniffled “you know you miss it when you’re gone.” You shot back as he smiled letting you see a little nod.

The boy pecked your lips as he wiped your cheek stopping the tear from running down any further “you’re my person, my world, my everything.” He announced causing you to let out a little gasp as you placed your hand on your chest “so it only made sense to me that I asked you to marry me.”

You watched as he opened the ring box “I didn’t know what ring to get you,” he explained as he showed you the ring that had a diamond on it “if you don’t like it the jeweller said you could change-”

“Neeks,”

Nico felt like an idiot as his eyes went wide “oh my god you hate it don’t you?” He was quick to shut the box “let me get my keys-”

“Nico,”

The boy didn’t listen though “I’ll take you there and we can get you a new-”

“Nico!”

Your louder voice seemed to work on him “yes?” He cocked his head as he watched you cup his face with your hand.

A smile formed on your lips “could have proposed to me with a ring pop and I would have said yes,” you confessed as you let your thumb rub his face softly as it soothed him.

Nico nodded “so is that a yes?”

“The biggest one you’ll ever hear me say.”

#nico hischier imagine #ambers 150 celly #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier oneshot #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #imagines #oneshots #amber writes fics

[its-time-to-write]

can i request a continuation of the jamie x kent!reader baby fever fic where they actually have a kid? the best friend’s sister trope is one of my favs and i literally eat up anything you write🤍

I had some down time today, so I wrote a little thing for this! It probably makes more sense if you read the other fics in this Kent! reader universe. Here’s a list:

take your time while you’re mine

would it be enough if i never gave you peace

let’s fall in love for the night

Thanks for requesting!!

here in my arms

Roy is holding the tiniest baby he’s ever seen. 

“There’s no way I was ever that small,” Phoebe whispers from the couch next to him, and Roy agrees. Surely Phoebe was bigger than this little bundle he’s looking at. 

“Cute little lad, ain’t he?” Jamie says from the other couch. 

Roy’s not sure what to say because on the one hand, he doesn’t want to explicitly agree with something Jamie’s said but on the other hand… this kid’s fucking adorable. 

“Jamie,” calls your voice from upstairs.

“Coming!” he replies. “You’re good here, yeah Roy?”

Roy scoffs. Is he good here. He’s Uncle fucking Roy. He’s a pro.

“Right, I’ll take that as a yes then,” Jamie says. “Food should be here in an hour. If me ’n the missus ain’t awake by then, just let us be. We don’t need food.” He gets halfway out the room before he stops and asks, “You’re sure you’re good here?”

This time, Roy fully rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, Tartt. Go get some sleep before my sister fucking murders you.”

Jamie says, “Right,” salutes to Phoebe, then turns on his heel to head upstairs to your bedroom. He shuts the door behind him and slips under the covers. The curtains are pulled, and it’s dark in the room despite the fact that it’s only the middle of the morning.

You’re barely awake, but you’ve tried your best to stay conscious until Jamie got there. You wiggle close to him and let him pull you into his arms.

“Kid’s fucking great, huh?” he whispers into your hair.

“Hm,” you agree.

“Mum said she’ll be down in a coupla days to help out. Simon’s coming too. Is that alright?”

“Don’t care,” you say. “I need sleep, babe. Kid’s seven days old and I am already wiped out. How’m I supposed to do this for eighteen years?”

Jamie’s rubbing circles on your back, and the only thing keeping you from sleep is the thought that you might not be cut out to be a mother.

“You’ve got me,” he says. “You’re not alone, babe, plus Phoebe can babysit in another three years.”

“I am not leaving George with a thirteen-year old,” you reply. “Nothing against Phoebs, but I can barely leave him with my brother right now without worrying about him. I just wish Molly weren’t so busy because I really, really need her right now.”

A tear leaks out of your eye onto Jamie’s shirt, but he doesn’t care. “It’s alright, babe,” he says, “swear down. Mum’s a fuckin’ genius with babies. She raised me, didn’t she? And I was a fucking handful.”

That just makes you cry even harder. “I want my mum, Jamie. Why did she have to go? I wish- I wish she and dad didn’t leave us. She’s supposed to be here, supposed to help with George and hold my hand and tell me I was the exact same when I was a baby but no she and dad had to fuck off to Paris or something stupid when I was two and leave me and Molly with our cousins! It’s shit. How can you just walk out on your own kids?”

Jamie kisses your forehead and says, “Oi, look. You’re already miles better at being a mum because you’re never going to walk out on George. And mum loves you, mostly because you make sure I eat real food, but she’ll stay as long as you need. I’m off training for another week, besides. Don’t have to go back just yet.”

You sniffle. “I should’ve had him during the off season.”

“Oh yeah, because we planned George’s conception all proper-like,” Jamie retorts.

You’re silent and for a moment he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, except you shudder once, so he knows you’re still crying. Jamie holds you as tight as he can, at a loss for words. He’s pretty sure you’re just tired with fucked-up hormones and that either Molly or his mum knows how to handle this, but for now he’s at a loss for a solution. He’s trying to think of something to say when you beat him to it.

“Do you think his middle name’s dumb?”

That is certainly not what he expected to hear. “Fuck no,” he replies. “George Kent Tartt? Kid’s going places with a name like that.”

You sigh. “He’s gonna fucking hate us for that. Shit, we should’ve done something normal.”

“How the fuck is ‘Kent,’ not normal? Y’know what’s mental? The fact that me mum named me ‘James Tartt.’ Come on, babe. Jam Tart? That’s all I ever got called in primary school.”

“I did veto a lot of your choices,” you murmur.

Jamie shakes his head. “You did, didn’t you? Shame. Kid could’ve been named ‘Apple Tartt.’ He’d’ve fucking loved that.”

“For sure,” you agree. Jamie’s glad to hear that your voice is returning to its normal, sleepy state so he tries to stay as still as possible. Sure enough, you emit a small snore less than a minute later. Jamie smiles to himself and closes his eyes. He thinks he can hear Roy saying something to George and/or Phoebe, so he lets himself drift off with you.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[little-worm-grant]

Jake's pov: Uncomplicated

Jake Lockley x You (Fem!Reader)

2,400 words / 18+ only, no minors

Masterlist.

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Summary: Deep down you knew Jake wouldn’t be calling if he didn’t think he needed you. Or maybe that’s what you told yourself to make it more tolerable to be out of your warm bed at this hour.

Warnings: No smut, reader tending to Jake's injuries.

Notes: Couldn't get this gif out of my head, so I wrote something inspired by it. Don't ask me what this nonsense is. It's Jake being Jake.

A phone call woke you up. Come pick him up, he’d said. Knowing exactly which asshole would be calling you to ask that. Very little else could be said before the line was ended. A second later, the location buzzed for you to follow.

You could have said no. Should have told him to fuck off calling you at this time. Sometimes you thought he did it on purpose, just to press your buttons. Deep down you knew Jake wouldn’t be calling if he didn’t think he needed you. Or maybe that’s what you told yourself to make it more tolerable to be out of your warm bed at this hour.

So you went.

You threw on a few layers and left to go pick him up. Silently cursing him all the while. Nights were cold and you weren’t functioning on enough hours of sleep to be doing this shit. At least it wasn’t all the time, but still. You’d prefer he called you at a reasonable hour. Jake didn’t seem to know what reasonable meant.

Ended up in some industrial area. Stopping to recheck the location on your phone. Didn’t seem like the right place. Movement caught your eyes. You look back up to find him staggering in his walk towards you. A sombrero on his head. The black bomber jacket open gave him little protection. No buttoned shirt, leaving his chest bare and exposed to the elements. Hand bandaged and bloody. He looked beat up or drunk, more likely both. All in all, he looked rather pleased with himself getting into your car.

Ducking his head to not lose the hat. He stunk of beer and cigarettes. You wrinkled your nose as it invaded your senses the closer he got. Waiting for him to shut the door. Didn’t bother to ask him to put his seatbelt on. More stubborn than a damn toddler, this one. It’d be his own fault if he bonked his head. Might finally knock some sense into him.

You pull away from the warehouse to drive him back home. Taking one last glance to see if you could spot anything out of the ordinary about of the place. Any clue as to why Jake came out looking the way that he did. Definitely a story there. Jake was already messing with the radio, getting the station he loved on. You turn it down to talk.

“Had a good night?”

He hummed at first, before saying, “Si señora.”

“What’s the emergency?”

“Sin emergencia. I needed a lift and I got one.”

Jake carefully plucked a bent hand-rolled cigarette out from his pocket. Straightening it between his fingers shaken fingers before catching it in his lips and searching for the lighter. Noticed the way he only used three fingers on his left hand. The other two wrapped haphazardly. Electrical tape somehow holding it together. His face cut up but no longer bleeding. A line of dirt and blood streaked down from the bridge of his nose.

“It was a party then?”

You didn’t even try to sound like you were convinced. Jake chuckled and blew out a plume of smoke. Shifting to open his window a crack.

“You could say that.”

Your hands shift on the steering wheel. Annoyed by that. You’d dealt with it with one being all cagey and now you had to deal with another. You wished they’d be more like Steven sometimes. Honest. Open. Not so headstrong and stubborn. Still though, they were equally as beautiful and handsome in their own ways, the bastards.

“I could ignore your call next time. Or stop the car right now and kick you out.” You threaten. “Start talking.”

“And risk your precious boys? Or you gonna make me beg again? Tu cabeza está en la luna.”

“They wouldn’t be this stupid.”

“Ha! You sure about that, chica?” Jake laughed to himself, “Steven cries in the shower if he thinks too long about sea turtles.”

You roll your eyes but he continues, “Marc threatened to throw Steven off a cliff for kissing you. Not so smart, your boys.”

“You’re one of them.” You bite back.

That seemed to give him pause. Another exhale of smoke as he regarded you more closely. You kept your focus on the quieter dark roads, seeing him in your peripheral was enough to put you on edge under his scrutinizing gaze. Passing under lights illuminated that stare. Like he’d make a meal out of you if he could.

You eventually break the silence between you two.

“So what’s with the hat?”

“Lost my hat. Needed a new one.”

“And your shirt?”

“Ah, that too. Needed it for my hand. Couldn’t find a new one of those.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing your nose needs to know.”

“It does if I’m going to patch you up.”

“You once told me to kill them with kindness. But I found their gun instead. That’s all.”

You sigh. Loudly.

“What the fuck am I going to do with you?”

“Anything you fucking want, mi mariquita.” He met your same tone with a rueful smile. Flicking the end of his cigarette outside.

You noticed how he’d gotten ash all over the glass and in the car. Another thing you can be annoyed about, later, once he’d sobered up. Right now you weren’t speaking to him or entertaining his flirtations.

You pulled through one of the drive-thru’s you knew would still be open at this hour. Tossing a couple of burgers over to Jake. His happy noise directed more at the burgers than at you. It was either he eat now or he’d be rampaging through the kitchen once he got home. You'd be hearing all about it from Steven the next day. Wanted to save the other from the hassle.

“You’re too kind. Maybe I should be nicer to you.” He said through a mouthful. Head bouncing along to the tune of the radio. Some sort of happy little dance while he ate. Never could resist bouncing a leg or his head to something in particular he liked.

“Yeah, yeah. Saying and doing are two separate things.” You half smile, glancing to him before heading home. He was still stuffing the last of his burger into his mouth by the time you parked up on the streets outside his apartment. Jake rubbed his hands on his pants, angling the one hand carefully to avoid snagging his makeshift bandage.

“And this where I kiss you goodnight? I enjoyed our little ride. Shame it couldn’t be longer.”

“No, idiot, this is where we go up together and get you cleaned up.”

“Didn’t think you were serious. Do I have to say please?”

“Only if you know what’s good for you.”

He laughed and you left the car to go to his apartment. Jake sauntered up behind you. Hands into his jacket pockets. Curled in on himself like an animal ready to pounce. You folded your arms and gave him a look in the elevator as he pushed for his floor and then proceeded to push the buttons for every other floor after.

To his credit, he didn’t pounce on you. Kept some distance. Leaned his back against the elevator wall. Some of that smugness gone and he did look like he was in some discomfort. His good hand readjusted the sombrero when he caught you looking. His hands patted down his other pockets and began to pull a gun out.

“Oh, there’s the bad man’s~”

“Jake!” You bark, hand snapping to his wrist to stuff the weapon back into his pocket. No cameras or people around but he had evidence on him you’d really rather he didn’t.

“Why do you still have that? I swear to god.”

“Don’t bother, most of them are assholes.” A sharpness in his tone he didn’t have before. He smiled hazily. “They abandoned us long ago.”

“Starting to sound like Marc.” You roll your eyes.

“Nah. He still believes. Little by little. More every day now that you’re around. He lingers about when Steven practices.”

“And why don’t you?”

“Why would I? Only one I’d want to pray to is you.”

That shut you up and gave you pause. You’d fallen for that one. Jake snickering let you know he knew it too. He was being an ass again.

The elevator stopped clunkily to his floor and he led the way. You go to reach out to stop him from bouncing off someone’s door but Jake’s able to catch his own unsteady balance. Making it to his own door, somehow. He lets you both in.

“Mi casa es su casa.” He waves his good hand lazily.

You nudge your hand into his back to push him towards the bathroom.

“You see Steven got Marc a fish? I didn’t get a fish.”

“You’d probably eat it.”

He laughed. A real deep wheeze from the chest.

“That’s exactly what I said when Steven brought up the idea. Got banned from going near them. I like the fishes. I have no beef with them.”

“Would you want a fish?”

A pause. “Nah. That’s their thing. Not mine. They won't let me decorate unless it's some more dorky nerd shit.”

While you both talked. You’d gotten Jake on the edge of the tub with his bandaged hand over the sink. Peeling away the electrical tape slowly. Jake winced.

“Sorry.” You say. He shakes his head but doesn’t respond.

Unwrapping the torn shirt from his fingers you see there’s darker blood and a nice gash at the palm. Dirtied and mangled. You turn on the cold tap and take his hand under the water. Flushing out dirt and dried blood. Stretching out the fingers to manipulate and feel for any breaks or damage to the nerves. Moving your fingers away to see if he could move them himself.

If it’s not Jake getting battered it was one of the others some other way. Steven while cooking or Marc when he got too rough playfighting with you. You use the bottle of disinfectant he kept out. To the sting, Jake growls like you were testing his patience, a scowl setting on his face.

“Quit being a baby. I need to clean it.” You protest back at him. Tossing him a scowl of your own. You could've been nice and warm in your own bed right now, not dealing with his bullshit. “You and your dumb hat.”

“My sombrero isn’t dumb. You take that back.”

“No.”

“Always so mean to me, princesa. Keep that up and I might just fall in love with you.” A playful pout you’d love to just kiss off his stupid face. He only ever used love like a threat, so you didn’t take it to heart.

You ignore him again. Pulling the medical kit out you used what little counter space you had, you open it up and pull out the supplies you’re going to need. Threading up the needle, Jake kept his bleeding hand still over the sink while he watched you. Wasn’t the first time you’d patched him up, knew it wouldn’t be the last either.

“Why were you out again? You don’t need to do that anymore.” You finally ask. Jake made a reluctant noise in his throat.

“I do. It was for a friend.”

“Who?”

“Does it matter? They needed me to do a thing and I did the thing.”

“You don’t have to do everything someone asks.”

“No. But I want to. Makes me… useful. The world doesn’t stop spinning just because we do.”

Jake doesn’t look away when you begin stitching him up. Didn’t take many stitches. Soon you were wrapping it in a cleaner bandage. Letting him pull his hand away to inspect the wrapping.

“Stay tonight.” He says. Not asking. You shake your head.

“You’re still drunk. No.”

“I’ll take the couch. You can have your way with his pillow.”

That caused you to scoff and go to leave. His good hand reached to catch yours. Tugging you, guiding between his thighs to enclose them around your legs. In retaliation, you smack the hat off his head, it hits against his back, the string around it going up against his neck. His chin pressed up against you as he looked up at you. A different look in his face this time, making you pause. One unlike any you’ve seen before. No. That’s not right. You’ve seen this look before, on the others, sure, but not on him. You steady yourself against him. His voice dropped an octave lower.

“I don’t want to be by myself tonight. Please?”

“Well be nice then.”

That stupid smile was back.

“I can’t promise that.”

“I’ll think about it. Stay still.”

You go for a cotton swab and dowse it in disinfectant. Wiping at the injuries on his face. Checking over the forming bruises. Fingers checking his nose wasn’t too fucked. Another noise of a groan from Jake. The cut on it wasn’t too bad once it was cleaned. You placed a plaster over his nose for good measure. He smiled lazily up at you. Arm wrapping around your waist to hold you.

“Did you think of your answer yet?”

“Yeah. I decided you’re getting the bed and I’m getting the couch. You need your rest.”

“No, no, no. No. That’s not how this works, chica. I get the couch. You get the bed.”

“I’ll just go home then.”

“Ayúdame. Anyone ever told you you’re so stubborn?”

“Anyone ever told that to you? Also, get rid of the gun. Don't let the others find it.”

He chuckled and shifted his head to press his cheek against you. Taking in a long unsteady inhale. Probably thinking of ways he could get his cake and eat it too. To your surprise, he relents.

“If it gets you to stay, I‘ll take the bed.” You feel him playfully bite into your side, hard enough to hurt. Causing you to make a noise and squirm away, smacking at his good shoulder. A pained laugh comes out from Jake.

“You’re an asshole.”

“And you love me.”

You didn’t have anything to say back to that. Damn him.

Come morning, you’d wake up to Steven complaining how sore he felt all over. How he’d found a gun inside his fish tank. Also, why were you wearing a sombrero? What on earth happened last night?

Only the fishes would say.

#jake lockey #moon knight #oscar isaac #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x reader #soft!jake #moon knight fanfiction #jakes pov #open starter #open rp #soft jake lockley

[yvnaology]

𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 ! [ ☆ ft. ayato & tighnari.

SUMMARY. where you initiate a kiss, only to move away and leave your boyfriend confused, amused or even distraught ☆

FEATURING. ayato & tighnari ☆

CW. lowercase intended. pet name (mentioned in ayato’s), really fluffy like so so fluffy like—I’ll shut up now 🥲, KISSES. you being a lil shit /lh,, bc why not??? possibly ooc ayato??? idk bestie I tried 💗

AUTHOR’S NOTES. writing this was sm fun & them > I love them so much it’s driving me CRAZY. wrote this in the span of two days time to disappear again (/lh /hj) pls i love the idea of tighnari pouting he’s so cute <33 ayato has been haunting me bc I didn’t pull for him he’s everywhere might as well write for him.

☆ K. AYATO — PILLAR OF FORTITUDE !

when it comes to ayato, you’re not quite sure what to expect, or even how he’ll react. you suspect that he may just find out about your little scheme before you even get the chance to do it, considering how he excelled in reading others.

you weren’t exactly the best actor—so if you decided to act upset with him, he’d end up finding out easily. but even if he did find out, it wouldn’t defeat the purpose of initiating a kiss and backing out at the last second, you’d still get a reaction.

you opened the door to his office slowly, attempting to not make any noise. his eyes wandered to your own, his lips curved into a small smile as he beckoned for you to enter.

“how’d you know I was there? I thought I was being quiet.” you inquired, mentally debating if you should just go on with your challenge before he has a chance of discovering your plan.

ayato merely smiled at you while extending his hand, intertwining fingers when your hand landed on top of his. “you’re usually at my door around this time, i simply thought that today was no different.” you often showed up at his door every day at around the same time, gifting him with affection, or a meal — unless he’s made it clear that he needs to be alone the entire day. then you’d usually leave the items by the door along with little notes.

he’s picked up on your pattern, and he’s very grateful for it as well. he squeezes your hand, once, twice, three times. you squeeze his hand four times, it’s that times like this don’t need any words. you let go of his hand and walk towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you stared into his purple-colored eyes. you actually wanted to kiss him, but you knew what you had to do.

you leaned in until your breath fanned on his lips, you both inched closer to the point where your lips were only a few centimeters apart—and then you dramatically backed away, your arms still around his neck.

he looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “aren’t you forgetting something, darling?” you couldn’t help but giggle at the endearment. he gently grabs your face and pulls you towards him, your lips connecting instantly as a wave of euphoria overpowers all else.

fleeting kisses that you both shared, with you smiling and giggling into them, ayato wanted to use every second he had, because eventually, he would have to go back to his work.

☆ TIGHNARI — VIRIDESCENT VIGIL !

tighnari’s day had been filled with chaos, idiots who seem to not be able to read the word “don’t” in front of any sentence that’s located inside of the avidya forest guidebook, children who have no sense of danger that nearly got themselves injured by fungi, it was absolutely EXHAUSTING.

the number of times he’s had to raise his voice in a single day–was this a plot by the forest rangers to shut him up for a while? he knows that he’s being a bit silly, but who could blame him? the ignorant adults, the carefree children, he knew what he had signed up for the moment he decided to become a forest ranger, but days like this make him feel slightly regretful.

with a frown, he continued to take notes on an unfamiliar species of plant he came across on his stroll. if only you were there to see how miserable he was, maybe you wouldn’t have decided to do the offensive. when you finally did see him, he seemed tired. you knew that this was going to annoy him and possibly put him in a bad mood but you swore to yourself that you’d make it up to him.

tighnari seemed to have noticed you have an inner battle with yourself, his chin resting on the palm of his hand as he looked at you expectantly. Normally, whenever you felt troubled you would always go to tighnari. whether it be for advice or even just a shred of comfort, plus the fact that he was so blunt and honest with you made his words seem ten times more impactful. 

he waited for you to come to him, preparing himself as he still had a lot of exhaustion built up. the last thing he wanted was to fall asleep while you were ranting. you stared at him for what seemed like an eternity until you noticed his droopy ears and the sheer tiredness in his eyes. “are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are you just going to keep staring at me?” his voice made it evident that he was tired as well, but it was also unintentionally laced with annoyance. now you were somewhat scared of his reaction to what you were about to do. 

you sat down in the chair beside him, bringing your hand to his face. “you seem tired, are you sure you want to listen to me complaining?” you asked, hoping that he was tired enough to fall asleep before you had a chance to lean in. he furrowed his eyebrows at you, a frown appearing on his face. “not tired enough, apparently.” you chuckled at his response.

you felt bad for what you were about to say, but you didn’t want to keep him up for much longer. “it’s nothing, really. i’d feel better if you gave me a kiss though.” you said this half-jokingly. tighnari reacted by flicking your forehead, “do you think i have enough energy to go over to you just to give you a kiss?” you pouted at his answer, knowing that this was the cue to pull off your little stunt. you went over to him yourself, leaning in before moving away to sit on your shared bed – containing your giggles with every ounce of strength you had left.

tighnari rolled his eyes at you before crossing his arms. “haha, very funny. now come over here and do it for real.” you wanted to squeal at how adorable he looked, his eyebrows still furrowed while his lips formed a small pout, he really didn’t have any energy left. and of course, how could you deny such a request? you cupped his face before pressing a quick kiss to his lips, eyes widening when his head fell on your shoulder.

#☇ | project :: main stories! 🪶 #ayato x reader #tighnari x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #ayato x y/n #ayato x you #tighnari x you #tighnari x y/n #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #twilight-theatre