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sometimesanalice · 12 days

Text

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.”

��𝐎𝐖

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

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 2 years

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@gilbirda Ok, so you made a snippet of on of your AUs a while back (braindead rejected! soulmate i think) and I haven't been able to think of much else since. So my brain made a little thingy for you!

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1. Tim takes a risk one day by writing back to whoever was doodling on his body, with a glittery purple gel pen, asking them to stop trying to contacting him.

All the person asked was, "Why?"

Tim never answers.

2. Danny faces constant rejection from his peers, authority figures, his parents and sister neglect him and now his own soulmate doesn't want him. They hadn't even met before he was rejected. Jazz finds out about Dannys powers and tries to reach out but Danny rejects her pretty violently due to his own pain. Then the episode where Sam and Tucker ditch him for Gregor happens and he gives up.

The two people in his life that has had pretty much complete control over his life and trajectory just abandoned him and he does not take it well. He ripped the symbol off his chest, disappeared and never came back.

3. Danny zooms into a new dimension/universe/whatever to avoid his former friends and family from being able to track him only to land in a place called Central City and immediately getting roped into helping Captain Cold who gives him a normal domino mask and they end up working together for a while.

4. Danny somehow overhears one of the speedster talking on the phone about his friends brothers soulmate issue at some point and they perfectly describe the interaction that happened between Danny and his soulmate all those years ago, down to the glittery purple gel pen and the types of doodles Danny had made as a kid and the things he said.

Danny learned one of his soulmates belonged to a group of detective vigilantes in a place called Gotham. Unfortunately he was spotted by the speedster and Danny had to bounce.

5. The Flash made reports to the Justice League about a meta teen who hes been having trouble with for a while and can't seem to pin down. He only asked for tips though as he "could handle it himself."

6. Danny leaves for Gotham and learned about Catwoman and Batmans weird Master Thief and Greatest Detective dynamic and decided that's what he wants to do. He was going to make his soulmate chase after him one way or another. Someone was going to want him even if they were wanting him behind bars.

He begins robbing bank vaults and museums, leaving no trace or clue as to what happened until he starts leaving a calling card of sorts.

7. Jason, who's been on the outs with his family lately meets this spunky white haired meta kid running around with a sci-fi mask/visor thing and giving supplies to homeless encampments and keeping the less fortunate alive and befriends him. He learns that this is the guy everyone has been searching for and just...tells no one. Jason is all for a Robin Hood vigilante, and really, its kinda funny to see his family squirm.

8. Phantom and Catwoman rob the same museum at the same time but for different things. They stare at eachother from where they're both still crouched from thier respective landings until Danny breaks the tension with "I didn't see you if you didn't see me?"

Catwoman laughs, amused. "Sure."

9. Danny finally narrowed down which of the batfam is his soulmate and introduced himself to them as Phantom.

The first thing Danny did was hit on Tim. Tim is flustered but otherwise doesn't really respond to it and tries to fight Phantom into submission, so of course Danny ghosts him by disappearing through a roof mid fight. Danny made a big show of his intangibility in that fight and made it seem like it was the only power he had but he was very skilled with it and he wanted to impress him.

10. Phantom becomes well known to the underbelly of Gotham. Mostly the homeless and nightworkers. But Danny was open and friendly. Never judging and always ready to lend a helping hand. Even better. He never came to collect on favors.

Over time, they became loyal to him.

11. Danny gets framed for a series of murders and the whole gang (minus Hood) are trying to capture him, thus, motorcycle chase scene. They use the white of his tires to tell when he's gone intangible due to all the dirt falling off the wheels. Nightwing jumps onto the bike and shocks Danny with his encrizma sticks right before Danny grits out "bye bye birdy~" and makes a big show of taking in a deep breath and holding it.

Nightwing is forced to jump off the bike as Danny runs through the concrete abutment of the overpass and coming out the other side

12. Danny meets Tim and Duke in his civilian form while he was at a Wayne tech conference. Danny had been asked about one of his inventions and was trying to show off the blueprints and explain things and thats why he was there in the first place. Duke of course, was internally screaming because that's the guy thats the guy they've been hunting for nearly a year but can find nothing on.

Red Robin confronts Phantom that night on a rooftop and Phantom laughs at him, "Thats why I was avoiding Signal for so long. He'd see my magical girl form and know instantly."

RR holds out a pair of handcuffs and says "Its over Danny." Phantom smirks and says, "I don't think it is, Tim" before jumping off onto a different roof and disappearing into the night. Tim is shook.

13. Danny over hears Robin berating RR at an old clocktower and intervenes, "Little Wayne, you do realize you were the first person I figured out, right?"

Damian proceeds to lose his mind.

14. Tim accidentally finds a material that Phantom can't phase through and quickly gets to work making things he can use against Danny. What he doesn't know is that Danny can phase through it he just pretended he couldn't because he wanted to see what would happen/what Tim would do.

Danny can sense the material and it feels really wierd to him, but doesn't harm him at all.

15. RR manages to knock Phantoms visor off his face and realizing it was made of tech he swipes it and brings it back to the cave for study.

He wasn't ready for all the information on the computer. Not only was his nemesis(?) from another plain of reality (he thinks Danny is from the ghost zone) but he was once a superhero with his own Rogues Gallery and human city to protect. Which begs the question, why did he become a Phantom thief?

16. The Joker hears about Phantom giving the bats the run around and comes to a misunderstanding about which bat he's been messing with which ultimately ends with Joker saying that he is Batmans ultimate nemesis and Phantom asking what that had to do with him? The misunderstanding is cleared up when Phantom complained about Joker even thinking that he was flirting with Batman because "Ew! He's an old man!"

Joker still got a few shots in for the heck of it but so did our ghost boy but they were no longer enemies.

17. The whole batfam had been freaking out about finally capturing Phantom and celebrating and plotting on how they were gonna get him to keep his mouth shut about thier identities until Jason came in,

Jason: Need help?

Phantom: Please?

Jason: *escapes with Danny*

Batfam: What?! No!!! Why?!

18. The batfam have only a vague idea of the Robin Hood thing going on. They know he's doing it just not to the extent its gone to. They find out later on that Phantom had been working with RH and his gang to sell off the items and most of the profits go to helping people. Other times he strait up gives jewelry and whatnot to children and working girls because "Everyone deserves something pretty, and even if its not your style you can keep it for a rainy day"

Phantom quickly gains a following and Danny doesn't even know about it. Clueless indeed.

19. Dannys main motivation in this is essentially just playing Cops and Robbers with Red Robin. Nothing else really matters to him. Not the robberies, not the fact he's working with a crime lord, not even his own safety matters much to him anymore. Hes readily zooming down the path of self destruction and Hood starts telling his family stuff, but only because he was genuinely worried about "Casper" crashing and burning.

20. No one knows why Phantom is fixated on Red Robin. He refuses to tell them. Red thinks its just because he's the smartest of the bats and he's not entirely wrong.

21. Danny legit started scheduling his heists with Tim to ensure they're both free after one couldn't make it too many times which blew the birds mind. Phantom must have been just that confident that he would always win. The bats eventually think Danny will stop stealing if RR isn't in the city for a long period of time. Danny more or less followed him and stole stuff from whatever city Tim was in. If there wasn't any museums or banks then Danny would steal a local landmark. Tim still wasn't sure how Phantom stole an entire building that one time but it had never been seen since.

22. Hood grows to be very protective of our favorite ghost boy. They bond and are actually really close. Danny admits he always wanted an older brother.

23. Tim goes off world for a while to see how Danny would react and Danny just...drops off the radar. No one knows where he is and after a week or two they start getting worried.

Tim returns after three months and Danny reappears two weeks after him with a tan and keepsakes from the places he visited on his vacation. Tim later screams into his pillow.

24. Tim has made it his personal mission to figure out who Danny really is, why he's fixated on him, where he came from, ect. Hes trying so hard but can't find anything. Its almost like he didn't exist before. Tim suddenly got an idea after Phantom accidentally got hit in the face and got a nosebleed. Tim saw green blood and immediately realized Danny might not even be human. Fortunately for our little ghost, he thinks he's an alien. A Martian specifically. Tim manages to snag a good sample from treating Phantoms wounds. Ghostboy was so focus on his core thrumming and mentally comparing it to his heart racing that he didn't even notice.

25. Tim later freaks out because the meta is freaking made out of Lazarus water.

The entire batfam was not happy to discover this and decided to work together to pressure Phantom into telling them what he was and what exactly he wanted.

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holybibly · 2 months

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i know i’ve seen one like this out there but like sports players ateez… just holy 🙃

like can you imagine what it’d be like to be a cheerleader (literally) and then finding out they’ve been perving over you in your uniform and they decide that they have to have you and slowly one by one they add themselves into your little reverse harem … MM!

I LOVE harems, and I have no shame about it. I hate to have to make choices when I can have it all.

You just piss them off—literally everything about you, from that extra-short puffy skirt and that cute tight top to those damn pom-poms and those stupid ponytails with the pink ribbons on them. You're so cheeky and proud that you don't even look in their direction.

You don't admire them, and don't drool all over the floor. You don't put your wet knickers in their lockers or send them naked pictures. These facts literally scratch them from the inside out. The burning hatred eats away at their brains. Who do you think you are? They're a bloody star football team—titled, rich, and sexy. And you—you're just a pathetic bouncing girl, and they won't talk about how much they stare at your tits when you do jumping jacks.

This whole nonsense is Hongjoog's fault. It was his idea to drag you into the shower after the match, and Woosan evil accomplices just added fuel to the fire. But you gave them hell. You nearly ripped out Hongjoong's beautiful cat eyes, you kicked and bit them, making them look like they survived a fight with a wildcat.

God, all that fire in your little body set them off in such a way that from that moment on, well, nothing went as planned.

You were terribly annoying; that's what Yeosang told himself as he pinned you against the shelves in a corner of the library. He didn't like girls like that—so loud and so rude. That's what he told himself over and over again as he feverishly tore off your shirt and kissed everything he could get his hands on. He just wanted to get a taste of it. Just a taste. He said to himself pushing his fingers into your pussy.

All those little skirts and cute little bows-you're definitely an attention whore. You just begged to be fucked.

And Wooyoung was driven mad by the fact that it was never him who did it. All your smiles, all your sweet words, all your sultry looks - you gave them to everyone, but never to him. And it fucking irritated him. It annoyed him so much that one day he just grabbed you in class, bent you over the table and spanked your juicy, perfect bottom until it was red and covered in his handprints. Of course, he took your knickers with him.

You were such an arrogant, bloody teacher's pet, and God, Seonghwa just wanted to shut your smart mouth with his fat cock, which is pretty much what he did. It was amazing to see you kneeling as he fucked you in the mouth. He was holding your head in place as he slid his big cock over your tongue, pushing it deeper and deeper until the head hit the back of your throat and you were choking on it. God, it was exactly what he'd had in his mind all the time. And he wanted more of it.

Mean, aren't you? You're so damn mean that everything about you sets Jongho's cold, collected temper on fire.

Bad girls have to be punished. They're taught to obey by having their cute skirts pulled up and their slutty wet cunt spanked until they learn to behave. And he teaches you that lesson by pinning you to the dressing room bench with one hand while he mercilessly spanks your pussy with the other. He will do this until you're squeal and squirm, begging him to stop, or do you just want more?

"I'm gonna fuck you, baby. You are going to beg for my cock until you start to sob. You know how to beg, don't you, or is that mouth just for cock sucking? If so, you can put that pretty tongue around mine immediately. Mingi used to love to tease you by whispering the dirtiest and most horrible things in your ear during the lessons. You used to blush so beautifully, and he couldn't help but wonder if your pussy was as beautifully pink as your chubby cheeks.

San didn't love you. Absolutely not. And he told himself that over and over again, as his tongue slowly fucked your sweet cunt and his strong hands held your hips in a dead grip. He was angry, not at all jealous that you were paying attention to some dickhead guy. And he just needed a bit of relaxation before he broke the bastard's jaw, and you were just about perfect for the release. It's not jealousy, San assured himself. His mouth pressed greedily against your damn tasty pussy. Not jealousy at all.

You were so tiny, so fragile. And Yunho just wanted to destroy you. And your bloody temper didn't help. You looked so beautiful as he stretched you with his fingers. You had orgasm after orgasm, so many that the stimulation was painful. Your juices were all over the place, you were squrting so hard that your whole body was shaking from the overwhelming power of the orgasm. Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your eyes rolled back in your head. But that was just training before he fucked you hard, dumb and drooling. And as captain of the cheerleading squad, you knew very well that the only way to get the perfect result was to practice endlessly.

You were on his mind all the time. He thought about you all the time, and it was driving him crazy. Why don't you look at him? Why aren't you crawling at his feet, where your place is? When you could be sucking his dick or moaning his name, why do you spend all your fucking time talking and being rude? Hongjoong couldn't stop asking himself the same questions. You had wrapped him around your finger faster than he was able to comprehend and you had him in a choke hold. He hated you with the same passion as he wanted to fuck you. And God, he was going to do it. Left alone after his next win, he couldn't control himself and as a result you're on all fours with his dick deep inside you. He fucked you mercilessly and hard. Every thrust of his hips was filled with hatred for the stupid feeling of love he felt for you. You were like a drug to him. Hongjoong never wanted to stop experiencing this ecstasy.

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msgexymunson · 9 months

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The Rhythm Of The Night

Fem!reader v older!drugdealer!eddie

Overview: The weekend has landed and you're out clubbing, as you often do, and your hot drug dealer is tagging along. Safe to say, things get a little heated!

AN: 90s AU, Eddie is 31, reader non specific around early 20s. I've been out for a while, struggling with mental health, so I hope this finds you all in a better state than I've been. Remember, comments and reblogs are my life blood. P.S. Before you ask, yes it is very much possible (if you know, you know)

Warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns, a lot of smut, some of it fluffy, slight age gap, NSFW (minors DNI or I'll tell your mother) female fingering, boob play, P in V unprotected sex (be safe guys and girls), drug taking, descriptions of drug taking and highs, sex whilst high (!!)

10k words

Masterlist

OK, it’s all good. You’re gonna be fine. You say softly to yourself as you hug your coat tight around you, too long sleeves hiding your chilly fingers. Hopping from one foot to the next you try to mentally coax yourself to a comfortable state. It’s clearly not working.

You’re just going out. Clubbing, like you have dozens of times with your friends. And Eddie, your insanely hot drug dealer, is tagging along. No biggie.

But it is a biggie. Since you’d met the messy haired rocker you were smitten; utterly taken by his rough demeanour, roguish grin and deep brown eyes. Eyes you could lose yourself in. You nearly had.

Your schoolgirl crush had done nothing but expand on each meeting with him. Stolen glances and flushed cheeks peppered the memories of your rendezvous, along with perpetual flirtatious comments. You came to quickly learn that Eddie flirts just as easy as breathing. He’s a charmer; a salesman. Brushing it off as just Eddie’s personality was a different matter. Your brain told you it was just his nature; but your heart lingered on every word.

Rubbing your hands together in their impromptu hiding place, you blow on them to attempt to warm them up, your mind wandering to earlier today.

It was supposed to be just a regular pick up. You had needed to collect some ‘social medication’ from Eddie for the rave tonight, so you had bounced over there, happy to have an excuse to see him.

The door had flown open sooner than you had expected, which forced an already chapped bottom lip to be sucked in between your teeth as you bit softly on the broken skin.

"Hey bunny, you're early." Eddie's smile smeared across his face, buttery and filling; his teeth flashing with earnest and a dash of debauchery. His chin was marked with his rough stubble; a dark rugged nearly beard that was permanently etched across his features.

"Hey Eds!" You fired back with an innocent grin of your own.

You remember it clearly, him leaning on the doorframe shirtless, showing off countless cheap tattoos littered across his alabaster skin. You knew about the tattoos, but you had no idea about his pierced nipples. They gleamed in the light; the silver bars caught your eye and refused to let go. His teasingly muscular frame was fully displayed, making you dart your pink tongue out to lick your lips impulsively. He looked naturally muscular, erring on the side of skinny. More inclined to slenderness in your mind; you thought he was probably not fussed enough about his image to work out.

Your eyes widened as you realised you were staring, and you forced your gaze away and back to his. A knowing smirk pulled at Eddie's cheeks, altogether a bit too sure of himself, as per usual.

"Sorry, didn't have time to change, you know?" Eddie lied through his teeth. Of course he had time to change. You knew it as well as he did. A part of you had wished that he had stayed shirtless because he felt the same way you did, but you were almost certain the reason was just to see your reaction.

"Yeah, sure, sorry to bounce in on you like this." You had shrugged in an attempt to act blasé about his partial nudity, despite how your cheeks had rapidly grown in heat. Just thinking about it now had your face flushing in solidarity.

"Well, you are one for bouncing. Should've known, Bunny." He laughed, drinking in your figure with his eyes, before he gestured for you to make yourself comfortable. Eddie had made his way over to his desk to find what you wanted; scrambling through the drawers haphazardly.

"Aha! There you are, you lil sucker" Eddie exclaimed whilst he tugged a familiar tiny plastic bag from the bottom drawer. It had hearts inlaid on the clip close rim; the contents were a crystalline, slightly yellowish substance. MDMA. That same baggy currently resides inside a fabric pocket in your bra. You try to forget its presence so you’re less nervous when it comes to getting into the club.

"Thanks, you're a lifesaver!" You had made grabby hands at him which earned a warm chuckle. He held it out of reach, just to see your endearing pout.

"Now, remember, plenty of water, sips not gulps. And don't chew your tongue." As he wagged a teacher's finger at you, he tossed the baggy.

Rolling your eyes at that, you catch the bag clumsily. He had held out his hand and you had stared at it doltishly in a feeble attempt to get free drugs.

"Come on trouble, don't play dumb with me."

Eddie had given you an admonishing look, but there was no bite to it. As you huffed dramatically, you reached in your pocket and handed him a couple of crumpled notes. As he reached to take them, he held your hand for a second. You feel a flash of heat through you at the mere memory of his touch.

"Now, I can't keep giving freebies to all the pretty girls, or I won't earn anything at all."

You flushed at that; the apples of your cheeks had diffused into a deep magenta. He thinks you're pretty. That phrase had turned around and around in your head all day.

"Besides, I'm broke right now."

Before you could have processed how to speak properly, you had blurted out "come raving with me!"

"Oh Bunny, that's not really my scene, you know that."

"I know but, I mean, if you're broke, you could earn a bit of cash."

"I suppose you're right."

"It'll be awesome, Eds, trust me." You grinned hugely as you gave him the details of where to meet, practically vibrating with excitement.

It was only after you had left, with lingering thoughts of Eddie’s bare torso in your mind, that reality decided to hit you like a ton of bricks.

I can barely speak to him without getting nervous or embarrassed and saying some stupid shit; how the hell am I going to survive tonight?

Shaking your head, wishing it was some sort of etch-a-sketch, you focus back on your calming mantra, trying to block out the creeping nerves winding around your spine like unwanted vines.

Huffing into the night air, you shimmy your coat sleeve up to check the time on your watch when a large pair of hands grab you by the waist and a gravelly voice whispers in your ear, “baby you come here often?”

Jumping bodily, you twist to face your attacker and realise it’s Eddie.

“Eddie I was about to punch you, fuck!”

Eddie laughs deep in his throat, hands travelling to hold you by the hips. Your heart jumps at the unfamiliar gesture.

“Sorry bunny, couldn’t resist. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” That grin, that damn wink. Any resolve you had melts in their wake as you stare up into those chocolate brown eyes.

“Shall we, er, go?” You manage to stumble out, voice suddenly as skittish as a mare.

“Lead the way, trouble.” Eddie smirks, giving your hips a final squeeze.

Trying your best to ignore the rush of blood to your cheeks you lead him around a few side streets and down an alley. You had arranged to meet your friends a couple of streets away from the club.

“Well, look at the bunny leading me down some alley; what are you planning on doing with me?”

You roll your eyes in his direction. “Yeah, you wish, Eds. We’re meeting my friends, just around this corner.”

“Shame.” A further blush threatens to inch across your face at that, whilst a thought of a smile tugs at your lips. You look over to Eddie to catch him staring straight at you and quickly look away. Maybe he does like me?

You’re unable to dwell on the look however, as the minute you turn a corner you hear a loud, obnoxious voice shout “BUNNY!”

Before you can react a tall, lanky dark haired boy wraps himself in a koala hug around your middle.

“Tech! Good evening!” You smile. He peels himself off you in order to give Eddie an appraising look.

“Well, well, the infamous Eddie. Pleasure to meet you.” As he sticks his hand out. Eddie takes it, and finds himself pulled into a hug he was not expecting judging from the look on his face. Coughing, he pats Tech on the back. “Er, pleasure dude.”

“Been pre gaming, Tech?” You giggle.

“Only always!” He responds with a toothy grin.

Pointing at your other friends, you introduce the short blond with the shy smile “Eddie, this is Panda.” She waves with her fingers and blushes. Pointing to the built guy with the dreadlocks you smile “And Mustard.”

Mustard pouts, “I told you guys to stop calling me that!” His indignation is merely met with giggles from you and your friends.

As you take Eddie’s arm and start leading him round the corner to the club you feel him bend slightly to speak in your ear.

“So, anyone have a real name or is this gonna be a theme?”

You giggle, “Well Tech’s name is Wojtech, it's Polish, so technically it’s his real name. Plus, he is our own very camp IT whiz. Panda, well we met her with that name, we kinda took her in, you know?”

“Ah, that's good. I hear Panda’s are going extinct. Very humanitarian of you.”

“Indeed.” You smirk up at him in time to see his warm smile pouring towards you, and feel a heat pool in your belly.

Approaching a lit doorway with a metal barrier outside, your group stops behind a small queue of fellow party goers. You and Eddie hang back whilst your friends fumble about in various pockets for their entry tickets. You already have yours and Eddies clutched in your hand slightly too hard, crumpling the card with nerves.

"And, erm… Mustard?"

You giggle, dropping your voice a little lower given the content of your conversation. Eddie bends lower so you can whisper to him. "Yes, but he hates it. We were at an after party, he'd taken a crap load of speed. We were all winding down and he kept asking us to play Cluedo. Well Tech shouted, 'who do you think you are, Colonel fucking Mustard?' And we just lost it." You smile broadly at the memory while Eddie snorts out a deep laugh.

Your friends get their tickets taken and after a brief pat down they're ushered through. Pretty soon you're next in line.

"Tickets please." Looking up, you meet the gaze of a tall burly doorman, all lack of neck and set jaw. His colleague looks equally unamused and threatening, eyeing Eddie up and down.

"Here's our tickets fellas." He takes them, inspects them briefly, then pockets them.

You hold your canvas bag out whilst he shines a torch in it.

"Do you want one of these?" You fish in your bag and hold out a few candy suckers. Eddie's staring at you in disbelief.

The shorter one looks shocked and shakes his head, but then leans over to grab one anyway. No Neck's face breaks into a huge childlike grin.

"Now, I haven't had one of these in years! Thank you, miss. Do you have a grape one?"

You giggle and fish out the flavour for him and he takes it with his large paw, fiddling with the wrapper.

"Go on through, have a great night."

"Thank you!" You beam at him and waltz through the door.

Eddie strides to catch up as you start walking up a wide staircase, already hearing the tell tale thumping of heavy bass.

Grabbing your arm, he leans in, hot breath in your ear making you shiver.

"They didn't even search us! You've got balls of steel, Bunny."

Blushing at the fact you impressed him, you lead him up the staircase and over to the coat check.

"What can I say, I aim to please."

"I bet you do." He whispers, and his lips brush the edge of your ear softly. A small gasp escapes your lips at the contact.

As he breaks away, you know there's a smug grin smeared all over that handsome face, so you decide to not give him the satisfaction of a look, and instead focus on the coat check girl.

"Just want to check this coat please, Eddie do you want to do yours too?"

"Sure" He says, shrugging off his leather jacket. He's wearing his signature black jeans, hugging his legs deliciously, and a white fitted t-shirt. Simple, but damn, he looked fine. You swear you could just make out the balls of his nipple piercings, now that you knew they were there.

Realising you were staring, you look up at his face. To your surprise he looks embarrassed.

"I, er, didn't know what people wear to raves," he chuckles.

"No, you look good. Real good." Coughing, you look away and take your own coat off whilst he checks his.

As you hand your jacket over, you hear him whistle out lowly behind you.

"Holy hell Bunny. This what you wear outside??" Turning to face him, you can feel his eyes roaming all over your scantily clad form as he strokes the back of his neck compulsively.

You must admit, you look good tonight. Maybe a little extra effort went in knowing Eddie would see you. Maybe just a little less clothing than usual. So what?

Well aware that you looked your best in pink and blue, you had chosen a tiny blue bra top with pink edging, and a pleated blue mini skirt that barely covered your ass with hot pants underneath since you'll definitely be dancing on a podium somewhere in the club tonight. A simple pink choker and a few kandi bracelets completed the look.

Eddie looks like he's about 30 seconds away from eating you alive.

"What, this old thing?" You tease, giving him a twirl and a tiny curtesy with the tiniest of skirts.

"Damn." Eddie's hand roams to his mouth, rubbing his stubbled face whilst he continues to gobble you up in his head, or at least that's what it looks like to you. You'd never known him to be speechless; he was usually the one with the witty comebacks. It was your turn to smile smugly for once.

"If you're done perving, shall we go in?"

"Oh I am so not done, but yeah let's go." He grins back.

You roll your eyes at him but you're still grinning, excitement bubbling in your belly. Turning to the next set of stairs you lead the way, knowing full well Eddie's getting a choice view of your ass.

What the hell are you doing? This has certainly swam out of the paddling pool of playful flirting and was quickly taking a deep dive somewhere. You know full well this is a Bad Idea™. The guy is a drug dealer, and you're flashing your goodies at him. You hardly knew the guy.

A drink. It was definitely time for a drink.

You enter the main area, a sort of meet up spot between the two dance floors. The music was quieter here, but the throb of bass could still be felt in your gut. Predictably, you spot your friends queuing at the bar.

"What do you want to drink, Bunny?"

"Oh, a vodka lemonade would be great, thanks."

Eddie moves past you, close to your side since the room was heaving with people. You feel the not so subtle drag of his hand as it presses to your lower back, and dips just enough to get a feel of your ass before winking at you as he goes by.

Well that was a bit fucking forward. Not that you didn't enjoy it, quite the opposite in fact. The fleeting touch had you biting your lip enough to taste blood. If there were still any doubts about what Eddie wanted they dissolved immediately.

You sauntered over to your group of friends as they exited the throng of people congregating around the bar and walked with them over to a high table. No seats were free as per usual but it was at least a ledge to place drinks, and something for you to lean on. All these salacious thoughts had your knees ready to buckle.

"Bunny! I got you a bottle of water for your party pack!" Tech practically sang out. You laugh and take it gratefully, depositing it in your little canvas bag. You know you'll need it later.

"Thanks Tech babe." And you kiss him on the cheek.

"Hey, calm it, I don't want guys thinking I'm straight!" He says animatedly.

Mustard responds, "Tech, there ain't no way you come across as straight."

"Hey, that's not true! You think I'm camp?"

"As Christmas." Eddie's voice cuts through as he places your drink in front of you and casually throws his arm over your shoulders. Tech's eyes go wide as he not so subtly gives you a look and a nod. Panda giggles. Mustard? Well, he just looks pissed off. You notice Eddie's looking straight at him, and he's the only one who looked at Eddie and not you. You could practically smell the testosterone from here. Oh dear.

"Bunny, you look so pretty tonight!" Panda squeaks across the table, breaking the tension.

"Aw thanks babe, so do you, I love your top!"

"Thank you!" Panda beams. "You look really good too Chris, by the way." Her face flushes, stealing a glance at Mustard.

"Er, whose Chris? I only see Colonel Mustard." Tech says chuckling. Mustard throws him a murderous look.

"Hang on, can I ask something?" Eddie asks, addressing the group. "Why do you call Bunny, well, Bunny?"

You wince, your cheeks flushed with heat despite the lack of clothes.

The gang look confused, glancing back and forth to each other. Panda quietly says, "I think you have to tell us, Eddie."

"Huh?" Eddie looks puzzled, taking his arm off you for a second so he can see your face as he takes a sip of his drink.

Typically, Tech is the one to butt right in and embarrass you.

"Well, you gave her the name! She told us you called her Bunny and she wouldn't shut up about you and-"

"OK Tech that's enough" you interjected, already cringing more than you are sure is healthy.

"Oh really?" Eddie's clearly loving this. He leans on the table to get a close view of your face which you promptly hide in your hands.

"Don't you have like, a job to do?" You say through your palms.

Knocking his drink back, Eddie claps his hands together.

"You're right. Whose first?" Tech sticks his hand in the air, and he and Mustard start to walk him over to the restroom to do a deal.

"Don't think this conversation is over Bunny!" Eddie shouts over his shoulder at you.

Panda's smile is wide. "He's cute."

"Oh he's hot, but I don't really know him that well, you know?"

"Yeah, but you'll never get to know him with that attitude!"

You smile at her, she's always such a ray of sunshine. "Come on, I'm not ready to drop just yet, let's have a dance."

You finish your drinks and make your way to the main room. The second the doors open the heat and the noise slam into your abdomen. You can practically feel the music vibrating through your lungs. The dance floor is smoky; lights are flashing and the room is heaving with dancing bodies. You shoulder barge through and find a spot for the pair of you right under the DJ booth.

This is the reason you rave. The feeling, the music, the dancing. Being able to just let go and have no responsibilities, not a care in the world except maybe when you were going to take drugs. And when that happens, it's the same feeling but multiplied by a thousand.

You and Panda dance away, feeling the rhythm and snatching shouted conversation in each other's ears here and there. Pretty soon you're both sweaty and laughing, and ready for a small break.

"Bunny, I need medication, come on!" She drags you to the restroom where you sneak into a cubicle together. Fishing the little baggy out of your bra, you hand it to Panda first.

"Hearts? Cute."

"Yeah? Eddie gave it to me. You think he meant something?"

Panda took a bit out of the bag and put it on the toilet seat cover, smashing it into a line with a card. She passes the baggy back and you take a sizable crystal out and swallow it with the aid of some water. It tastes disgusting, but there's no way you're going to stuff something up your nose. Molly was like that, you'd grown somewhat used to it.

"Bunny, seriously, that man clearly wants you. You don't need a bag of drugs to tell you that."

She's right of course. You're still apprehensive though.

"It's just- well, he's a drug dealer."

Panda snorts the line she made and wipes her nose. "Er, are you one to judge right now?"

You laugh loudly and pass her the water.

"You're right. I suppose a bit of fun won't do us any harm."

"That's the spirit. Let's go have a smoke."

You both go into the main hang out area and find a vacant sofa surprisingly. Your buzz starts to creep on slowly but surely. Panda's a bit ahead of you; the pros of snorting.

"I really like Chris, you know." Her eyes are glassy as she tells you.

"Oh I know. I don't think he does though. You should just take the leap."

"Well, evening ladies." You look up and see Tech and Mustard grinning, pupils blown.

"Nice of you to join us. Here, have a sucker, don't chew your face off." You pass the candies out to everyone, holding back a cherry one for yourself. "Where's Eddie?"

As soon as you say that he appears, the biggest smile on his face.

Panda bounces up. "Come on boys, I'm buzzing, let's dance." And she grabs your friends to lead them to the dance floor, throwing a wink back at you.

"See you later Rock Star!" Tech shouts over his shoulder.

You just about hear Mustard grumbling "why's he got a cool nickname? This some bullshit."

Eddie flops down next to you, man spreading. You turn to him, elbow on the back of the squishy sofa, faces inches from each other. You can see from here he's clearly dropped, taken a pill or something. His pupils have grown, you can barely see the colour of his eyes. Apart from that he still looks put together. Probably more used to this sort of thing than you are.

"So, Rock Star?" You smile at him.

"Yeah, we were talking, and some guy started talking about metal, and I said I play guitar, next thing I know I'm Rock Star. Glad it wasn't mayonnaise or something."

You giggle at him, unwrapping your sucker and putting it in your mouth. Eddie fixates on your mouth immediately. Sensing the opportunity, you lick your tongue around it slowly, then suck hard. Letting it go with a wet pop, you look at his eyes again.

Eddie's clearly flustered.

"Are you- you having a good night yeah?"

"Yeah we had a dance, I've just dropped, just waiting for it to kick in."

Eddie reaches over to your face, fingers moments away from brushing your jaw, staring at your saccharine smeared lips.

You hear an awkward cough to the side of you.

"Hey, Bunny, it's DJ Skitz's set, you said you'd dance on stage?" it's Tech, hovering nearby, looking like an unwilling third wheel.

Well shit.

"Eddie, I've got to go. Come and watch, yeah?"

"Couldn't drag me away sweetheart." You feel the heat pool between your legs, amplified by the drugs beginning to course through your system.

"Come on then." In a moment of bravery, you grab his hand and lace his fingers between yours. He looks at your conjoined hands for a moment and then back up at your eyes. The look on his face is not what you were expecting. You'd grown used to the sparky wit, the smugness, the charm. Right now, he looks like a lucky little boy, shocked at the affection. You flash him a small smile and drag him into the main room and across the heaving dance floor.

There's a small podium stage left. A girl you vaguely know is on the other side of the stage on a similar podium, a skinny redhead in yellow hot pants and pigtails. You take your position, dumping Eddie directly in front of you.

The lights dim and your friend DJ Skitz is bathed in a spotlight. He begins his set, spinning some fast techno and hard-core that you love. Breaking out some glowsticks you lose yourself in the music, dancing, gyrating, sometimes spinning and shaking your ass. You nearly forget Eddie is there. Nearly.

Looking down, you see him staring at you as if you hung the stars in the sky just for him. Tech's there too, wolf whistling and cheering you on. Panda and Mustard are nowhere to be seen. A part of you hopes they're off sucking face somewhere finally.

The high is finally sinking those familiar claws into you. She's a sneaky bitch. You begin to let go at last. All the day to day bullshit, all the drama, all the hassle. Gone. You dance, just dance. Oblivious to the crowd and any expectations. Throwing yourself into the music, you dance. The thrill of the high leads you. You're guided through by the mistress of the beat.

In almost no time at all DJ Skitz's set is over. Before you exit the stage you tell him how good the set was, how much you enjoyed it, and of course, hand him a sucker. He grins and takes it gratefully, complimenting your dance moves.

As you are looking to get off the stage, Eddie holds out his hand to help you down. You meet him, bodies pressed together in the mess of people.

"You wanna sit for a bit?" He asks.

"Sure" you say as you flash a lazy grin at him.

This time, he's the one to link hands with yours and drag you. There's not much space free given this is the lull between sets. He spots a single soft chair way off in the corner and drags you to it.

"Mind sitting on my lap?"

"Not at all."

He sits, holding his arms out to you. You sink onto his lap, ass on his thighs. He wraps his arms around you and you melt into him, all social insecurities forgotten. Sparking a cigarette, he holds the butt to you, so you take a drag. Continuing like this, you share the smoke until there's nothing left.

"So, I'm guessing you're done for the night, yeah?" You ask, staring up at him.

"Oh, it was a very lucrative night. Might have to go out with you more often." He smiles at you.

"Oh that can be arranged. So all out?"

"Hmm, not quite. Two pills left. I was waiting for you, if you want one? Free of charge for the prettiest girls." He says, guiding a wayward hair out of your face.

"Oh, how many have you given away to pretty girls, huh?" You joke, poking him in the abs.

"None. Just you."

The smile that creeps over you is entirely unbidden, forcing its way across your face.

"So, you wanna go to the restroom or-"

"Oh, I think we can be subtle eh?" He raises an eyebrow at you. Staring at him, trying to work out his next move, he fiddles with his mouth and then flashes his tongue for a fraction of a second. You see a streak of white in your vision as he guides your head towards him.

It's not a kiss, it's a transaction. You say it to yourself in your head without much enthusiasm. Leaning in, you press your mouth to his. His thick tongue pushes into your mouth, massaging your own, passing you the pill. Fingers twine their way into his wild mane as you grip on, afraid of losing a hold on reality. It would have been perfect, if it didn't taste like hairspray.

You break away, the bitter taste of the pill too much. Gulping down water, you look at him again, taking in his flushed cheeks and heaving chest.

"Very subtle." You quip, hitting him lightly, hand resting on his chest unwilling to move.

"Yeah? See, I can do subtle." He says, as one large hand drifts down to cup your ass.

'Hmm, yes, very subtle. Hardly noticed that at all sir."

Eddie laughs, tipping his head back, giving you a full view of the veins on his neck. The feeling floods through you, making you want to dive forward to bite it. Before you can register what's happening, you're planting soft kisses to his throat. Eddie's breath heaves even harder.

"Holy shit Bunny, you're gonna make me hard."

Moving reluctantly away, your eyes meet once again. The question burns in your head.

"Why did you call me Bunny?"

He laughs and looks awkward for a second.

"Wait a minute?" He asks. You nod as he fiddles with his mouth again, you assume to take his last pill. He gestures at you for water and you hand it to him. Taking it gratefully, He gulps some down. You're going to have to replenish in a minute before you forget.

"For courage." He laughs, taking your small hand in his own.

"The family friendly version? You're sweet," he says, pressing a soft kiss to the tips of your fingers, "and cute," another kiss to the tips of your fingers, but this one lingers slightly, sending a quiver through your nerves, "and full of fucking energy, its unreal!" You laugh as he lands another kiss on your knuckles.

"And the R rated version?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Well," he says, visibly steeling his courage, "I've thought about you," he says, laying another kiss, this time to your wrist, "how good you would look," another kiss, in the crook of your elbow. He brings your face to his, his breath whispering in your ear. "How you would look bouncing on my dick, over and over and over." You gasp as his teeth graze your neck, the touch electrifying you. He bites down softly, sucking a bruise into your skin as you attempt not to moan aloud.

Pulling away, his eyes search your face for your reaction. To be honest, all you're thinking right now is how soft his lips are, how much you want them pressed against yours again. Or on your neck, your collarbone, your breasts…

"Well, you didn't run a mile. That's good." He laughs slightly awkwardly, fingers whispering against your arm, erupting goosebumps in their wake.

"Oh, I'm not running." You reply, pulling him in for a kiss. A real kiss. Locking lips, you take your time, tongue swiping into his mouth slowly. He responds in kind, licking into you, his hand dipping into the back of your skirt. You can feel his fingers squeezing into the flesh of your butt as the kiss deepens.

Every move is electric, making your hairs stand on end. You want to engulf him in the moment, to swallow him whole in it, to bask and revel in it, never ending. Eventually you both break away, if only to breathe.

"I don't know if its the drugs talking, but that was fucking amazing." You say breathlessly. Laughing, he takes hold of your hand on his chest.

"I hope not. We've not gotten to my fantasy yet."

Biting your lip, you feel his fingers drag down the cleft of your ass, drifting dangerously close to your hole. You whimper slightly; at the feeling, at the narcotics flowing through you, at Eddie. Especially Eddie. He was like a whole new drug you'd only just started experiencing.

"Fuck, you're perfect Bunny." He says, admiration gleaming in his eyes.

"Hey you guys!" You turn to see Panda, hand in hand with Mustard, a stupid grin plastered across both of their faces. Panda waves their woven together hands up triumphantly at you.

"About time!" You grin back, doing your own sheepish nod at Eddie, purely for Panda’s benefit.

"Wanna dance?"

You reluctantly slide off Eddie's lap and both of you make your way to the dance floor.

He barely lets you move, hands trailing across your figure, dragging his fingertips over your bare abdomen, grasping your ass or the back of your thighs. You reply in kind, soft digits trailing over his stomach, raking across his chest, sometimes stopping to rest on a pierced nipple, feeling the steel of it over his shirt.

"I don't think I've been this turned on in all my life," you admit in a frantic whisper to him. The pill he had given you had well and truly come into effect and you were basking in its golden glow.

"Shit Bunny, you can't just say that to me!" He gasps out, tongue darting out to lick at your neck while you dance.

"I have to touch you," he says breathlessly as he grasps your hand and leads you away from the writhing crowd.

Leading you down a corridor he pushes open a little known restroom door and ushers you into a tiny cubicle.

"Fuck, you are driving me crazy, shaking your ass in that little skirt" He says, fingertips grazing the inside of your thigh. The feeling is explosive, hammering through your nervous system like a freight train on steroids. You'd never had anyone touch you when you were high before, and the fact that it was Eddie had you moaning before he'd even touched your pussy.

"Hmm, be quiet little Bunny." He laughs as he presses his body against you, fingers tracing up and over your clothed heat. You whimper, pushing your body against him urgently.

"Please touch me Eddie," you struggle out, wiggling your hot pants and panties to the floor until they rest at your ankles.

"Say that again" He says as he grins wickedly, fingers stroking just to the left of where you wanted him, needed him.

"Please Eddie, please touch me. I-I need you to." You whisper, fingers wrapping the front of his shirt into a tight ball.

"I think I need that on tape" He huffs out, desire shining in his eyes. His calloused fingertips finally meet your wet heat, finding your clit with hardly any hesitation. Gasping, your eyes fly wide open, staring straight at his.

"Oh fuck Eddie, oh God, please, oh please make me cum" you babble at him, the feel of his rough, sure hands electrifying every limb.

"Sweetheart, you are something else," he manages to say, eyes shining. He sinks two fingers into you then as you open your mouth in a perfect o, feeling them glide into you, your velvety walls already convulsing. The heel of his hand presses deliciously onto your swollen clit as his fingers rub your g spot.

"Holy shit! Eddie, what the- how the fuck are you so good at this?" You whisper shout at him, small hands clinging onto his shoulders.

"I'm sure it's just the pills sweetheart," he laughs into your ear, taking your earlobe in between his teeth and sucking softly.

Your climax builds impossibly fast, buzzing through your nerves until every part of your skin is singing for him.

The rush is almost too much. Your head is spinning; vision pulsing with your heartbeat which feels like it's moved deep inside your cunt.

"Eddie, oh fuck," you nearly squeal at him, eyes wide and wild.

"Yeah? You gonna come for me, Little Bunny? Please, please come for me." His speed increases as you feel wetness squelch inside you. Reaching that precipice faster than you think you ever had, you freefall into it, gripping hard onto his shoulders. The buzz of your release sets your skin on fire, every rock of his fingers making you pulse and moan.

You come down, from this high at least. The other one, the drug fuelled one, is still firmly locked in. Eddie's eyes are fixated on yours; he's breathing as heavily as you are.

"You are unbelievably hot, you know," Eddie says, fingers still buried in your cunt. He finally releases you and pulls you in for a devastating kiss. Tongues sliding against each other, you press your body to him, wanting to be closer.

"Eddie, I really want you," you breathe out, fingertips pressing so hard into him they may well leave bruises. Sucking a love bite into his neck, he groans.

"Fuck. Yeah, I want you too, but maybe not in a restroom?"

You pull away and gain eye contact, both of you giggling and high.

"Suppose you're right," you laugh as you pull your undergarments back into position.

"You wanna dance some more?"

"Not right now, I feel fucked." He raises his eyebrow at you.

"Not like that! Just super super high." You're floating right now, soaring, thoughts scare and about as substantial as dandelion fluff.

"Oh shit you really are aren't you? Right, come on. I'll look after you."

He leads you out of the stall and washes his hands before guiding you to a free seat in the main room which was starting to clear out a bit. Flopping unceremoniously into it, you feel your head fall to your shoulder, letting the seat engulf you in softness.

"Wait right here, OK Bunny?"

"Yup. Not going anywhere. Got jelly bones" You giggle and smile broadly at him.

He shakes his head and leaves you for a moment, returning with a bottle of water. Handing it to you, you take it gratefully, feeling the cold water sips trickle down your throat.

Eddie squishes next to you on the armchair, feeling your forehead with the back of his hand.

"Well, you're not too warm, that's good. You got any suckers left? You want some gum or something?"

"Hmm, gum would be splendid!" You say to him in a silly voice. Chuckling at you, he rummages in a pocket, unwrapping a stick of gum and putting it in your mouth.

"Splendid?"

"Yup!" You grin, chewing lazily.

"Anything else I can do sweetheart?"

"Please touch me." You see him pull a shocked face, looking you up and down.

"Not like that! Just like, stroke me. My skin is all buzzy."

Throwing his arm over your shoulder, he softly runs his fingers over your upper arm, his other hand resting on your thigh following the same movements. It feels so nice, each stroke calming and intoxicating.

"Hmm this is so nice. Stroke the Bunny." You say as he laughs loudly at you.

"You're fucking hilarious when you're high."

"I'm hilarious all the time. I am a gift." You nod matter of factly at him.

"I'll say." He plants a lingering kiss to your temple as you snuggle into him, head coming to rest on his chest.

"Aw, look at the Bunny!" You look over and see Panda gleaming with sweat, still firmly grasping Mustard by the hand. Tech stands a little to the left, hands on his hips.

"Is she alright?" Tech asks Eddie, looking more sober than the rest of you.

"Yeah, she'll be OK, she's just really high."

"OK, Bunny?" You hum in response, smiling up dopily.

"Right, the ultimate test. Boop!" Tech says loudly, bopping you on the nose. You giggle, smiling up at him.

"Well, she didn't cry with laughter. She's good. You wanna go home Bunny? We're about to leave."

You frown. "Can you teleport me? I'm super cosy right now."

"I can do the next best thing. Abracadabra, let's get a cab-a!" Tech announces, wiggling his fingers.

You make your collective way out, grabbing your jackets. Eddie's arm stays glued around your waist making sure you're steady.

Outside, he looks a little sad.

"I guess I'll see you soon?" You gaze up at him in confusion.

"Eddie, you're coming with us. After party."

"Oh I don't know-"

"Hey buster," you say, poking him in the chest making him laugh, "you said you'll look after me. Well we are going to Tech and Mustard's place. And you're looking after me. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am." He smiles at you.

After a very squished taxi ride which you're sure wasn't legal, but hey, a lot of this night wasn't, you arrive at their house and settle in. Dance music is softly playing, and Eddie's sitting on a chair. You're on the floor between his spread legs whilst he rubs your shoulders. Mustard and Panda are snuggling on the couch together, whilst Tech is laying on a bunch of cushions on the floor. A joint has been passed already between you all.

"You sure you don't wanna sit here?" Eddie asks.

"And miss this back rub? Not in a million." You reply, reaching up to squeeze his hand.

"Hey guys?" He asks the group. Various heads swivel to look at him.

"Wanna play Cluedo?" Laughter erupts from everyone except Mustard.

"Yeah yeah, laugh it up Rock Star." He says, but he's smiling as he says it. Standing up, he announces, "me and Panda, we're gonna, erm, have a nap." They take each other's hands and giggle as they leave the room.

"I'll just turn the music up a little, shall I?" Tech shouts at their retreating backs.

"Tech, you mind if we crash in your spare room for a bit?" You feel the pressure of Eddie's hands on your shoulders increase at your words.

He huffs. "Oh great, I'm surrounded by couples. I'll just stick some headphones in eh?" He winks at you as you stand up taking Eddie's hand and leading him.

You walk into the spare room, little more than a storage space. There's a few boxes stacked up and a bed, thankfully already made. As you shut the door, Eddie strokes your arm.

"You sure about this Bunny?" His eyes are big and soft, making you remember why you crushed so hard on him in the first place.

"Look, I'm not like, super high any more, but I'm definitely feeling it. I like you. I don't wanna think too much about it, all I know is that I wanna feel your skin on mine," you explain to him. No games, just pure honesty.

"That does sound really good right now." He says, pulling off his shirt. You take a beat to drag your hands over his exposed chest, fingers tracing over tattoos. Running a finger across a pierced nipple, he quivers.

"OK, fuck, yeah I'm still feeling it," he laughs slightly, eyes shutting for a moment.

Taking the opportunity, you pull your top over your head. Eddie's eyes snap back open, staring at your lacy blue bra. There's no padding, you can feel your hardened nipples poking at the soft fabric, just barely visible through the flimsy material.

You smile and pull your skirt and hot pants down slowly, leaving you in your bra and matching panties.

"God damn."

Eddie's eyes are raking over your form, drinking it all in. He reaches out a hesitant hand, dragging a finger slowly over your collarbone, making your skin erupt in goosebumps. He moves his fingers slowly lower, tracing the hem of your bra, before stroking down to your nipple. The contact zings through you, making you gasp.

Eddie smirks, hand reaching up to your bra strap, gently sliding it down your shoulder. Even that has you groaning.

You reach forward and grab him by the belt, dragging him towards you, and tilt your head up to envelop his lips in a soft kiss. It's so delicate; a crush of lips, a flirt of tongues, edging, teasing. His hands trace your sides. Each miniscule movement whispers across your skin; a susurration of sensation.

Fiddling with his belt you dip your fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

"Can I take these off?"

"Fuck yes" Eddie says, large palms running up your sides, thumbs reaching out to graze your breasts. Fiddling with his belt you just about manage to unfasten it, unbutton his jeans and pull them down. He's wearing loose fitting boxers, but even so you can clearly see the sizable tent his hard member is making. You run your fingers over it gingerly, tracing the outline, and gently take it in a loose grip, rubbing up and down.

"Jesus Christ that feels so good," he says, voice nearly a whisper.

He reaches behind you and unclips your bra with one hand. It's so fast you look up at him in shock.

"Oh shit, er- can I take this off?"

You laugh out loud. "Well, you might as well now!"

"Sorry, too excited" He laughs back, and peels the garment off your form. His laughter dies in his throat at the sight of your bare chest.

You're all poised to make a joke but he doesn't give you a chance. Falling to his knees in front of you, he gently strokes at your breasts with his hands, and you feel his hot breath on your nipple. As he licks pointedly over it you can't help but tremble at the feeling, it's just so intense.

Suddenly he takes it into his mouth and sucks. The moan that forces its way out of your throat is husky and laced with need. He plants open mouthed kisses all over your naked chest and stomach, sometimes nipping with his teeth, sometimes sucking a minute bruise. You quiver, feeling like your legs are about to give way.

It's almost ridiculous how amazing it feels; a hot weight settles in the pit of your stomach, wanting to lash itself out into the world. Then he's sucking your nipple again, swirling his thick tongue around it. Everything's tingling; your whole body feels like a live wire. He takes the other nipple in his mouth and you whimper. A familiar feeling is building in you but you are almost scared to believe it.

Surely he can't make me come without even touching my pussy?

The thought is incredulous, but the feeling mounts as your legs wobble in time with the shaky breaths you're taking.

"Eddie, Holy shit," you gasp out, fingers winding into his hair and tugging. He moans and doubles down on his ministrations, tweaking your nipple hard and running his knuckles over the hardened nub.

"I think, fuck, I'm gonna-" the words are lost in a cry of his name as you reach a pinnacle you didn't even realise was possible.

Taking ragged, heaving breaths you look down at him. He looks almost as shocked as you feel.

"Did you just…?"

"Yep."

"Really?" The look on his face is half surprised and half smug at this point.

"Hey it's news to me too!"

He laughs and stands, picking you up in the process, and lays you down on the bed.

"Bunny, that was really hot." Standing at the edge of the nightstand, he's staring at your nearly nude form as if it were some work of art. You take the opportunity to take your jewellery off and leave it in a pile on the bed.

"I didn't know I could do that." You smile at him, shrugging.

"I didn't know anyone could do that!"

Pretty soon you're both laughing as he gets on the bed next to you.

"I hope I wasn't too loud."

Eddie snorts a laugh. "Bunny, be quiet for a sec and listen."

You snuggle into him and listen. Oh.

"Is she- squeaking?" You press your lips together, willing yourself not to laugh. Eddies shaking under you with barely contained amusement. Soon after there's a definite grunting noise.

"Oh God I hope Techs put headphones on or he's gonna be scarred for life!"

Peals of laughter erupt from the both of you.

Laying there, stroking each other's skin, you feel more comfortable with Eddie than you've ever felt with any other man. This just feels right. There was no other way to explain it. Giving him a feather light dusting of kisses to his jaw, you realise your hand is roaming further and further south, reaching the waistband of his boxer shorts. You run your fingers across the very edge of it, dipping into the hem oh so slightly. Abs tense under your touch.

"Quit teasing Bunny," Eddie says; he's almost bucking into your touch, willing your hand to go lower. You ping his underwear with your finger, watching it snap back onto his skin making him jump.

"Can I take-" the sentence is cut short however, as Eddie pulls his boxers down and flings them across the room. Giggling, you look down. And stop giggling.

"Jesus Eddie, it's huge!" You thought it was big given you felt it earlier, but seeing is most definitely believing. No wonder he's so confident all the time.

"Flatterer." He quips back, but you can tell how pleased he is with your words. Moving to straddle him, you rub your thinly clad core against it, earning a heavy moan from each of you. Eddie's hands grasp your hips and run inside your panties.

"Take these off before I rip them off." You gasp at his words and look into his eyes.

"Please?" He adds almost sheepishly. You smile and lean awkwardly to the side, pulling them off and away. You're straddling him then, entirely naked, soaking pussy dragging along his throbbing cock. Eddie's eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, firm hands holding onto the meat of your thighs, helping you glide back and forth.

"Im- I'm on the pill. I'm clean. I promise. Can I just- slip it in?" You ask sweetly, dragging your hands up and down his lean sides.

"Er, I think I've hit my head and I'm making this all up. Say that again for me, Bunny?"

You giggle, and lean over him, breath whispering into the shell of his ear.

"I wanna fuck you raw. Can I? Pretty please?"

He groans so low it's almost a growl, pulling your face toward him for an urgent kiss. His tongue massaging yours and the drag of his pulsing cock rubbing against your clit is setting off fireworks in your head.

You slide and slide against him, when his cock slips inside. You wish you could have the noise Eddie makes in your mouth on record; it's low and primal, a violent hum. You tease him a little, giving him tiny kitten licks in his mouth as you circle just the tip, and take in a little more, a little more. Suddenly pushing your hips down he practically whimpers, eyes scrunching shut as he's fully seated inside you.

"Holy shit, Bunny what the- how is this so good, fuck!"

You have to agree, the feeling of him deep inside you has you fluttering already, cunt throbbing around his manhood.

You move to lift off him slightly, and slam back down.

"Bunny, please, go slow," he says, his eyes pleading with you as his fingers grip you tightly.

"I was trying to fulfil a certain fantasy?" You smile at him, and begin to grind back and forth at a languid pace.

"And I appreciate that," he says as you giggle. His large hands run across your skin, running over your sides, your stomach, your breasts. Each touch has you moaning, back arched in pleasure.

"This is too good Bunny. I want it to last."

Continuing your slow, deep pace, you feel your swollen clit singing, dragging across his pubic hair on each pass. The feeling transcends any sex you'd had before. It wasn't in the same league. Hell, it wasn't even the same game. You lean towards him, hands tucking underneath his muscular shoulders, holding him close to you.

"Have you had sex when you were high before?" You whisper to him as you grind deliciously back and forth and nibble on his earlobe.

"Yeah, but not as good as this. This is fucking incredible," he responds, planting kisses over your jaw line.

Your orgasm is creeping closer and closer as you moan in his ear.

"I can feel you shaking baby. You gonna come?"

You can only nod against his neck as he holds you close.

"Look at me. Eyes on me Bunny."

You lift your head, foreheads nearly touching. Your whole body is quivering, mouth hanging open. The hotness in your stomach is turning to liquid fire, reaching out to lick over your limbs.

"That's it baby, let go."

As if your body was waiting for permission, you feel yourself become truly overwhelmed by your own pleasure, exploding through you with an intensity unmatched by anything you've ever felt before. And it just keeps coming. Rolling over you in delectable waves for what feels like forever.

Finally, the waves begin to ebb. Your legs are shaking uncontrollably as you try to regain some semblance of breath.

"Wow." Is all you can manage. He smiles up at you, reaching to rub his thumb up and down your jaw, settling the softest of kisses to your lips.

"Right, hold on Bunny."

You're clinging to him as he turns you over until you're underneath him, his narrow hips slotted between your legs, without ever leaving your cunt.

"Smooth," you say, smiling at him.

"Well, I try." He grins back, grasping one of your hands with his and holds it over your head, fingers entwined as he slowly pumps in and out of you. His other hand is hoisting your leg around him, keeping your knee high. You're in rhythm with each other, moving as one, meeting his hips again and again.

Each thrust of his hips has you keening into him, sending more waves of intense pleasure coursing through your nerves.

"Eddie, oh God!" You grasp at his shoulder, fingernails biting into his flesh.

"Come with me my Bunny, come with me, oh fuck!"

You come together, the feeling of him throbbing his release into you sending you over that edge once again.

He nearly collapses onto you, barely holding himself up on an elbow as he brings his lips to yours. You kiss, and kiss, and kiss again.

"That was incredible," he whispers on your skin, nose nudging yours.

"Splendid" you grin back at him, making him chuckle.

"Wait, let me clean you up. Where's the bathroom?"

"First door on the right. There's a wash rag on the bedside table."

"Your friends really look after you, don't they?" He smiled, grabbing the cloth and donning his boxers.

He returns moments later and wipes at you with such care, cleaning you up.

Whipping his underwear off again, he snuggles up behind you in bed. You were finally starting to feel a little tired, but you know it'll be a couple of hours before you can sleep with the ecstasy in your system.

Not that you minded. This was heaven right here, Eddie's warmth pressing against you, leaving paper trace kisses over your shoulder.

"Eddie," you say in a moment of bravery, "what are we?"

"I thought you didn't want to think about it." He says. You can hear the smile in his voice. His arm moves over your side, hand coming to rest on your own.

Honestly, you're not sure why you'd said it. Well, there was one reason. You're not sure you could deal with this being a one night stand. The sex was too incredible for that.

"I know I said that, it's just- I don't want this to be it."

"Hmm," he hums into your shoulder, "what are we?" He leaves a soft kiss, "we're friends." You scoff a laugh and go to turn to him, but he holds you fast.

"Let me finish. We're friends," he continues, kissing your shoulder again, "friends who fuck," another kiss, a lingering one that makes your toes curl, "daily." You giggle, lacing your fingers with his.

"Friends who go on dates occasionally," he says, beginning to kiss at your neck. His length is hardening, you can feel it rubbing against the flesh of your ass. "friends who don't sleep with anyone else." He finishes, teeth nipping at your neck.

The grin that flows across your features comes unbidden and nearly surprises you.

"Eddie?" He only hums in response, starting to suck a bruise into your neck, his dick falling into the cleft of your butt as he pushes against you.

"I think that sounds a lot like-" you begin but he shushes you softly.

"You said you don't wanna think. So don't." He unlocks hands with you, fingers tracing down your abdomen and gently sliding between your wet lips. Gasping as he lightly rubs against your clit, you buck against his throbbing length.

"You are so sexy, you know that?" He huffs, slipping his member between your legs.

"Me? You're hot Eddie." He snorts in disbelief.

"Why didn't you ask me out?" You ask, as you feel the tip begging for entry.

"Hey, I tried to charm the pants off you." He said, nipping your earlobe.

"Well, I suppose it worked, but I thought you were just like that with all the girls" you reply, allowing him to slip inside you.

Moaning in unison, you rock against him. His breath is a whisper in your ear.

"No. Just you."

You keen at his words and he doubles down on his efforts on your clit forcing you to grip onto the bed sheets for dear life as if you'd float away.

"Eddie, fuck that's- that's so good" you purr, backing into him.

"You gonna come for me Bunny? My little Bunny? Go on, come for me," his voice is bordering on begging, rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit. Crying out, you clench around his cock, releasing again.

Grabbing you by the hip, he thrusts harder into you, again and again, until he's moaning his orgasm out, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Bringing his hand up to your face, you drag your lips over his knuckles, settling warm kisses over each one.

"You know, I don't really know you, not really," you smile.

"Well, get to know me. What do you want to know?"

"I don't even know how old you are. 28? 29?" You guess, kissing him again.

He slips out from you and coaxes you to turn so you can curl into his chest.

"31 actually."

"Well, see that's a deal breaker, sorry," you joke, fingers tracing his chest tattoos.

"Well, we had a good run," he responds in kind, kissing you on the forehead.

You're not entirely certain where this is going, what the future may hold, but right now you're just happy to be in Eddie's arms.

Masterlist

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple @corrodedhawkins @lunatictardis @roanniom @pxrxcxa @sillypurplemurple @sinczir @lightvixxen @eddiemunsonfuxks

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dadsbongos · 2 months

Note

CAN U PLSSSS WRITE A CUTE DENJI FIC OR HEADCANON/DRABBLE?? honestly idrc care which it is (obvi longer is preferred but i understand and am open to whatevs u give)

like about reader (fem) has a journal and in it she wrote about her dream dude, but like perfectly described denji and accidentally left it out and while they were hanging out or something cuz they besties he sees it and realized like "dude, that's me!" or something and then like a fluffy confession or something IDK that's just what i have sprinting through my brain rn 🤓

also maybe a lil kiss 🙏

thank you for giving me a denji idea... been fiending to write for him and just had 0 ideas

word count - 1.5 K / warnings - fem reader, not proofread!!, au where makima dies and denji just gets to be happy with special division 4 and they are familycore

~~~

“And the point of this is…?”

“I dunno,” Himeno answers honestly, shrugging, “I read somewhere that you can tell a lot about someone from their partner.”

“None of us are dating,” Aki huffs, fingers itching over the protrusion of his lighter in his pocket.

“Their preference in a partner,” Himeno groans in annoyance, gesturing out to the collection of papers in front of each of you, “Besides, what else do we have to do right now?”

Fair question, no matter how junky the science behind Himeno's apparent reading, not one of you had anything better to do. A storm was raging outside the Hayakawa apartment, all of Special Division Four having pooled there before the clouds even rolled in. Before Kobeni could shyly crawl out from the rambunctious crowd, there was lightning and thunder and an ear-piercing flood warning blasting on the television.

So, Aki swallows the rest of his complaints and puts his head down with the rest of your division. His pencil sprawling over the paper Himeno slammed in front of him to describe his ideal significant other. A tedious task he's all too eager to bullshit through as soon as Himeno is finished staring down at him.

Denji is tapping the eraser of his pencil against the kitchen island, eyes straying around the living room. He worried his bottom lip between knifepoint teeth; only stopping when he tastes iron. Even Power has started writing.

Even you have begun writing. He wonders what you're writing. He wishes he could stretch his neck and take a peek without being obvious. He wishes he could read it at all.

Denji draws a stick figure that takes up a quarter of the page, dragging the lead back over the chest to add breasts. He glances at you through the side of his eye before adding hair and a small smile. And the black hair tie snug around your wrist even though he's only ever seen you lend it to Kobeni and Angel. Now he really can't avoid it: Denji has no idea how to write.

Hopefully he can just coast with a bland drawing and let everybody think he's as shallow as they probably already believe. But when he lifts his head to glimpse at everyone else's pages, Himeno is already freezing him solid with her icy glare. Denji tucks his chin to his chest and subtly twists in the island stool to look at your paper again.

Bullet points go five lines down the page; and the only thing he can make out is one of the few characters Aki’s taught Denji at his request:

愚か. Stupid.

Denji's eyes bounce back up to your face, eyes a little gooey and smile all soft. He knows that goofy look well, it's how he finds himself everytime he thinks about you. Before he can lose himself in that, he's jealous. You're making that lovestruck face over some stupid guy that Denji can't even write a strongly worded letter to.

Denji writes one of the other few things Aki has taught him. Your name with a bold arrow pointing down at the stick figure.

Then he erases it. He scrubs the pink bud over your name so hard he tears the paper in half. A loud shirrr dragging every eye to his hunched form, shoulders hiking higher over his face at the increased attention.

“Hark! The fool cannot even spell!” Power cackles, “Show me his words! Show me his mistake!”

“Power,” you chide, as though she's a fitful toddler and not a horrific Fiend, “Be nice. You can't write either.”

“Liar!” she points at you with a shaking finger.

Kobeni shyly taps Power on the shoulder before pointing at the paper overflowing with Power's manic ideals of a partner, “Anything else…?”

“Honesty!” she glares at you sharply, “And unwavering devotion!”

“Right…” Kobeni mutters unsurely, neglecting her own paper as she continues to scribble on Power's.

“Ignore her,” you scoot your stool closer to Denji and he manages to flip his page over before you can see the drawing, “Do you need help?”

He’s nodding before his mouth can even pop open, eventually he manages to sputter alongside it, “Yeah, yeah!” taking full advantage of his new opportunity to squish right against you at the island, “Can you write…”

Patiently, you await his request and he can feel his heart pumping in his throat every time you bat your lashes at him all sweetly. Your pen leaves jet black dots as it dips in your weak grasp, Denji has lots of words to describe you and all of them knot together on the tip of his tongue, tangled and lashing to fall from his lips at once.

Ultimately, he settles for the least descriptive, “Nice.”

“Someone nice,” you nod and scratch that onto his paper, “I like that.”

Denji feels his whole body go junky with sparks of electricity, blood boiling hot at how you feel comfortable enough to drag your paper into his full view. You point at your top bullet point, nail tacking loudly into the surface when his eyes don’t immediately stray from your face to the words below. Your bottom lip is sucked between your teeth as you study his reaction, leaning your face even closer to his.

Though you’re blurry and jumbled in his peripherals, Denji can still make out the upturn of your lips. He looks over the rest of the page, desperately searching for any other words he can make out and mold himself to. That, or cope and make up some ways in which he’s at least comparable to your dream man.

He can make out: Pretty.

Do you think Denji is pretty?

He sees another one he recognizes: 歯 -- teeth -- but there’s two characters before that he’s useless against.

Denji has teeth.

“Sharp,” you whisper into his ear, tingles raising along his pale flesh.

“Huh…?” Denji turns to look at you, heat rising far up to his ears.

An airy, almost delirious, giggle floats into his ears as you circle the two mysteries before teeth, “Sharp,” then you circle teeth, “Teeth. Sharp teeth.”

“You like guys with sharp teeth?”

“Love ‘em.”

Denji swallows harshly, shakily pointing to the next bullet point, “What’s that mean?”

農民を尊重する.

You press ever closer towards Denji, leaning your chin on his shoulder, “‘Respects farmers.’”

“I respect farmers…” he mutters dumbly, “I love their work.”

“I know you do.”

Denji blinks down at you, his thick lashes beating on his rosying cheeks and spiky teeth punching back into his lip. His breaths are short and hard, red overtaking his cheeks like a flustered little Kewpie doll. So precious and sweet, ready to crack beneath your palms. He’d trust you wholly, and you know you’d treat him well. He knows, too. You’re nice.

You laugh at his stunned face, posture rigid. The sudden shock making his shoulder jab up into your jaw uncomfortably -- you find it terribly charming.

“I like girls…” Denji sighs out in a tremble, eyes trailing down your face, “I like girls with soft lips.”

“Do you?” you inch closer, by now long forgetting the presence of your friends and colleagues in the apartment. Teasing is fun, but teasing Denji is just the best.

“Mhm.”

After an awkward pause, Denji follows the quiet hum with,

“Can I… kiss you?”

You nod against his shoulder, chin digging down into the bone. Denji stretches his neck to kiss you -- and your lips are even softer and more sugary than he imagined. His hands scratch out to cradle you to himself, continuously parched no matter how much of you he has to drink in. Warm hands and arms around you, clinging and wrapping and pulling. Wincing from the prickle of Denji’s teeth against your lip, you cinch a hand around the chest of his shirt and wrench it towards you -- pulling Denji closer along with it.

“You like me?” he utters against your lips.

Pulling back, you flip around your paper and sear your index nail around a very recognizable word, “My ideal partner. I was a little scared to share at first…”

Denji almost jumps right off the stool, ready to coop you in his arms and swing you around fully in front of his roommates and coworkers. Instead he laughs in full disbelief to himself, reaching down to squeeze your other hand in both of his. You’re briefly concerned he’s cutting off blood flow before the joy of his pure excitement overtakes that concern.

DENJI is big and plain over the very top of the page.

“What changed your mind?”

You snicker right into his ear and reach out to flip over Denji’s paper, torn at the top, “I could tell you felt the same, pretty boy.”

Denji squeezes your hand even tighter, giggling almost feverishly before he’s sliding off the stool, “Wanna go make out in my room?”

“Thanks for having the decency to move now,” an unpleasant sneer breaks Denji’s cloudy dream-turned-reality.

“Fuck you,” Denji hisses at Aki.

“I think it’s cute!” Himeno pushes at the back of Aki’s head, “Focus on yourself!”

You let Denji drag you from the kitchen island and towards his (and Power’s, not that she’ll be allowed in for the next however many hours) room.

“So, you really think ‘m pretty?” Denji’s voice teeters just on the edge of snarky, but his skittish, red frame speaks louder.

“Prettiest,” you coo, kissing his cheek.

The affection has him seconds away from blurting out an awkward, ill-timed: You’re really my dream girl.

#denji x reader #denji fluff #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #denji x you #denji x fem reader

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moe-moe-kyun · 2 months

Text

Malicious Compliance- Throw in the Towel

Synopsis: A different ending for my fic 'Malicious Compliance,' where things get a lil hot n heavy ;)

Tags/Warnings: Explicit, smut, nudity, lucifer x reader, gender neutral reader, reader receiving, bottom lucifer, pet names (good boy, baby), i like my men desperate and submissive

Minors DNI!!!!!!

Notes: uhhh first time writing smut. i try not to describe readers sex characteristics in depth. not proofread and not the best but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

'They've known what they were doing this entire time,' the realization hits him as you slide farther back onto his lap. Lucifer's hands grip the armrests so hard his knuckles turn white.

The coy smile spreads greater across your face when your ass comes in contact with Lucifer's dick practically twitching in its confines. Just when it seemed you were about to grind against him, you stood. Relief flooded Lucifer's veins. How embarrassing this situation was- he prayed you would leave him with a shred of dignity and not acknowledge his arousal.

Unfortunately for him, your plans were much the opposite. You turned and positioned yourself to straddle the demon's lap. You kept your eyes on Lucifer's face even as the towel around your waist came undone and slid to the floor with a muffled crumpling. His blush deepened but he maintained eye contact.

Lucifer moved to stand, to remove you from your seat on his lap, to do something, but was halted in his tracks as you gently pushed him back against the seat.

"If you want me to get up, you have to ask nicely." Your voice was soft yet firm, and your demon clearly didn't know how to react. You watched his brain short circuit in real time and felt his cock jump against where it came into contact with your groin.

You provided him a moment of silence before speaking again, grabbing his chin to ensure he was looking you in the eye as you did so. "You also have to ask nicely if you want me to do anything else," smile continuing to bleed through your voice. Oh, to have the most powerful avatar of sin a blushing mess underneath you. It was truly a beautiful feeling.

"So? Do you have anything to say?"

"I- Please," Lucifer's voice had gained that desperate lilt. 'So pretty,' you thought.

At his plea you began grinding against his clothed erection, pulling sweet little moans from his lips. You bent down and left open mouthed kisses against his neck, unbuttoning his shirt just enough to expose his pectorals.

"Haah~" he moaned when you pinched a nipple, rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger.

You paused in your ministrations against his neck. "Good boy, Lucifer. You wanna start preppin' me, baby?"

Lucifer nodded, and you brought his fingers to your mouth and began to suck on them. Once thoroughly lubed with your spit, you released them for Lucifer to use on your hole. He started with one digit, gently pumping in and out as you ground down against his hand.

"Just like that," you whispered encouragement into his ear, small moans and panted breaths excaping your throat as he inserted a second, scissoring them to stretch you out.

You undid his belt, then the button and zipper, finally freeing his dick from his pants. It was red and swollen, weeping precum from how desperate you made him.

"So pretty for me, are you ready?" you asked, pumping him a few times to coat him with his arousal.

"Fuck- yes, MC," Lucifer was practically incoherent, and you hadn't even fucked him properly yet. 'Damn, how long's it been since he got laid?' you wondered.

With permission stated, you slid yourself down on his cock, both of you gasping at the sensation. Fuck, he filled you so nicely. You paused for a moment as you bottomed out, giving your demon a final chance to collect himself before you began bouncing vigorously on top of him.

Lucifer's hips bucked up into yours as you rode him, groans and moans coming from his lips as his head fell back against the chair.

"No," you pushed him down, "I'll tell you when you can fuck into me." He shut his eyes at the command, concentrating on keeping his own hips still as you continued chasing your own high atop the Morningstar. You kissed him, biting on his bottom lip to seek entrance, pushing your tongue into his mouth as reward for following orders.

It didn't take long for your legs to tire, your human stamina almost nothing compared to that of an ancient being. "Okay, baby, you can move," your words were gentle but halting as they stuttered with your breath.

Lucifer, ever your obedient demon, was quick to begin moving in time with the rhythm you had set. You moved in tandem, sucking on his neck and toying with his nipples as his cock slid in and out of your soaking hole.

The pleasure mounted, and you felt the coil deep in your stomach tighten. "Luci, 'm close," you murmured amongst pants and moans.

"Ah, MC, same, 'm gonna-"

"Cum with me, please, baby," and you clenched around him, eyes rolling back in your skull at the intensity of the orgasm. Lucifer came in time, cock shooting thick ropes of semen into you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

You rode out the orgasm, movements slowing as your breathing slowly came back to normal. Lucifer sat below, placing gentle kisses against your shoulder in between shuddering breaths, your hand tracing patterns against his back. The blissful silence continued, Lucifer cuddling into you even as his dick softened and slid out of you.

You spoke eventually, his quiet starting to concern. "Lucifer, are you okay?"

He simply nodded in response, a contented sigh escaping against your skin. You smiled, bringing your hand up to pet his head, a sweet whisper of 'good boy' parting your lips.

#lucifer x mc #lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader smut #obey me smut #obey me lucifer smut #fanfic #tag shit and live bill

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ivystoryweaver · 11 months

Text

Decadent chapter 3

prev || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist || next

Summary: You and Miguel can't keep your hands off each other. Will he be able to tell you the truth about himself?

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings/notables: NSFW 18+, cursing, p in v, masturbation, oral -m and f receiving, mention of a period, but just a mention. (non period) Blood, violence, numbness: reader is partially paralyzed and not in control of the situation for a bit. sex is consensual but the paralytic is not. nor is the biting/feeding. Miguel is a bad boy. You've been warned. not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

"Talk to me, Miguel," you softly ordered, halting your motions. You needed some feedback.

"Fuck, don't - don't stop," he husked, his hand joining yours to jerk him off. It took him a little bit longer than the first time, but as his warmth coated your hand, running down your wrist, you realized that working with Miguel could end up being a lot of fun.

Every day at your new job was an adventure - a mind-expanding, challenging, thrilling, orgasm-inducing adventure.

Miguel did not sacrifice one moment of work in the lab, nor behave in any way as if he'd been inside you on a daily basis.

But just like the first time, once you were back in his office...

Pretty much every day for the last two weeks, he needed you to "come over here and look at something," - which would inevitably end up with you on his lap. He really did have things to show you, but they varied in range, from deep, scientific hypotheses, to deep, frantic thrusts of his cock inside you.

Miguel loved for you to ride him, sitting on his lap, at his desk. Seeing how he appreciated your legs so much, you made sure to wear a skirt and the sexiest possible panties. He had a shredded collection of them in his desk drawer, and he'd already gifted you several new pairs.

So you were this girl now: working a challenging, fullfulling job in your dream field, while also letting your boss fuck your brains out.

Lucky you.

"Fuck, Miguel, fuck!" You gasped as he gripped your hips, roughly dragging you back and forth on his lap. Gripping the edge of his desk, you pushed your ass back to meet him thrust for thrust, bouncing and moaning the way he loved.

While he lived to work you up slowly and get you all needy and begging beneath him, when you were on top, he knew you liked it fast.

He had, a time or two, added the slightest bit of super speed to his hips rabbiting up into you, drawing the most obscene little noises out of your pretty mouth. He hoped you hadn't noticed the odd things about him yet - how he would never finger you, fearing his talons would slice you. How he would fuck you so fast that he might as well be your personal vibrating fuck toy.

Or how he never kissed you.

God, how he wanted to. But no. You had clearly seen his fangs by now since they weren't retractable like his talons, but he couldn't risk hurting you. And if he cut your tongue - fuck - he couldn't even dwell on how the mixture of your tongue and your blood would taste inside his mouth.

He had to control himself. But, with each day that passed, with each time he spread you across his desk and worshipped your gorgeous body - he wondered if he had the strength to keep his fangs out of your supple skin.

You came suddenly, your cries of pleasure shamefully loud. Feeling Miguel slowing inside you, you managed to lift up off his lap and turn around, kneeling in front of him.

"Baby, what are you--oh shit..." he gasped as you took his slick, coated length into your hot mouth. You had been on your knees for him before, sucking him relentlessly until he came.

Then it evolved. Instead of quick fucks on his lap, with your skirt bunched up around your waist, Miguel started asking you to strip for him. You found that the slower and more deliberately your pulled your clothes from your body, the more desperately he fucked you.

Being stark naked in his office became this unexpected thrill for you. Sometimes you would work that way -not in the lab -never there. But you would arrive in the morning, give Miguel a little striptease and promptly sit down at your desk wearing nothing but high heels.

His newest thing was to give you instructions. He would coyly mix questions about work with sexual requests and commands.

"Tell me what you think of this article..." blurred with, "spread your legs for me."

Miguel liked to give you instructions while you were naked. "Show me your pussy... touch yourself... play with your nipples..." and one day he folded his massive arms over his chest, leaned back in his chair and said, "Crawl to me."

Without hesitation, you eased out of your chair, completely naked, and slowly started crawling toward your boss on your hands and knees. You thought he would demand that you suck him off, but instead, he rewarded you.

Spreading your naked body across his desk, he kept his fangs safely behind his lips - and with no sucking whatsoever, he used his tongue to wring two orgasms in a row from your soaking wet cunt.

You could die happy - really, you could. Miguel O'Hara - genius, sex god - had fucked you with his tongue.

You were fully aware that a "relationship" like this was probably a bit supernova, and would likely run its course. Miguel would eventually get bored of all the sexy games and move on to his next source of entertainment. It might even get weird, but you felt like you would be able to keep your professional relationship in tact.

And in the meantime, you were having the time of your life with the most gorgeous man you had ever laid eyes on.

Sure enough, one day, Miguel was different. As soon as you walked into his office, ready to lift up your skirt and show him the royal blue, cheeky panties he'd given you - he held up his hand and told you to stop.

"Don't - not today." He never explained himself, except to say he wasn't really feeling well. The two of you remained fully clothed and then headed to the lab for a completely normal day of work. At the end of the day, he offered a weak apology.

"Don't come in tomorrow," he ordered, avoiding looking at you. "Actually...take a few days off. I need some time to think."

Okay, that offended you.

"Miguel, if you want to get more work done, I understand that," you explained, wondering if he thought all the fooling around was interrupting the research. "You don't have to send me home."

"I don't recall asking for your input," he all but snapped. "I don't care what you do. Work from home. Just don't come in the rest of the week."

Narrowing your eyes, you decided to keep your mouth shut. You were not going to get emotional in front of him, even if he was being rude. You left without another word.

Miguel had never felt more like a monster, nor more disgusted with himself. He was growing rather attached to you, and you still didn't know what he was. The problem was...he smelled you. Your monthly cycle was imminent. He'd never had a problem like this around other women, but it had been a while since he worked so closely with one.

Repulsed by his own anatomy and thoughts, he slammed his fist into the nearest wall, leaving a gaping hole. How was he supposed to get any work done with a brilliant mind like yours if he couldn't even handle your womanly body doing normal things? He knew the answer. You were the perfect one - he was the monster.

Fuck.

This wasn't going to work. He couldn't send you away for a few days a month. What kind of misogynistic asshole would he be? Apparently, the kind who would do what he just did!

Reaching for his phone, he sent you a message.

'Hey, I'm really sorry about today. I was an asshole. I wasn't feeling very well. You can come in to the office if you want to get your work done. I'll be out of town for a couple days. We can talk then, if it's okay. Sorry again.'

He was both relieved and nervous to read your reply.

'Thanks for letting me know. If I did something wrong, please just tell me. I can handle it. Are you sure you're okay?'

It took him an hour to figure out a response.

'It's not you. You're doing amazing work. And I love the time we spend together. Can I make it up to you when I get back? Have dinner with me.'

You freaked the hell out. Was Miguel asking you out? And where was he going for the next few days? If it was a work trip, why didn't he tell you about it? You supposed he might explain a little more when he returned.

The big night arrived. Miguel actually sent a car for you - to bring you to his home. You were expecting dinner in a nice restaurant, but as the car pulled up to a posh skyscraper not too far from the office, you realized Miguel lived here.

To your delight and surprise, he met you in the lobby, smiling warmly as you entered the building.

"Hi, you look incredible," he sweetly complimented, taking your hands and kissing your cheek. "Come on, I'm on the top floor."

Of course he was.

The two of you took an elevator up a few floors - then got out and switched to a private elevator which was operated by a key. An attendant greeted Miguel and was promptly dismissed so the two of you could ride up to the top floor alone.

"This is all very you," you commented, feeling your stomach flip-flop as the elevator zinged upward.

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" He questioned, narrowing his eyes playfully.

"I'm still deciding." Shrugging one shoulder, you winked at him.

Dragging his bottom lip between his teeth, he inched closer to you. "You still mad at me?" He stared down into your eyes.

Batting your eyelashes, your nose wrinkled with a cute smile. "I'll let you know."

The elevator doors gave way to the penthouse, and Miguel offered his hand to lead you into his home.

If this were another man, you would have felt this momentum - this film-style, rush-off-the-elevator and fall into one another, kissing wildly thing. But Miguel never kissed you. And he didn't now.

You were tempted to yank on his arm and pull his lips down to yours, but something made you stop, feeling hesitant to be rejected this early in the evening.

"I hope you like Mexican food," he chirped, leading you to his gourmet kitchen.

"You know I do," you grinned, "considering how many empanadas and tamales we've eaten."

You paused, taking in the incredible spread before you, "Holy shit, Miguel, did you make all this?"

"No," he laughed, "it's mostly catered, but I did make the empanadas," he opened the fridge and produced a clear, crystal pitcher, "and - the margaritas."

"Oh my god - if these are any good, I just might have to marry you," you teased, as he reached for a glass with salt around the rim.

The two of you ended up eating at the kitchen island, sitting on bar stools, making a mess of the spread of Mexican food and enjoying a few margaritas each.

"How did things go while you were out of town?" You politely asked, and you could have sworn he stared at you for minute as if he had no clue what you meant.

"Oh, yeah...uh...it went fine," he finally answered, taking a long drink as if needing a moment to think. "Sorry again about that. It was...unexpected."

He was totally lying. He didn't go out of town, he was just avoiding you. He felt like an idiot. But that's what tonight was for. He was going to try to tell you the truth. Or maybe break it off with you? He wasn't sure, but he couldn't do that to you again - punish you for being a woman and having bodily functions.

"It happens," you shrugged, reaching for your drink for a little more liquid courage. You had a lovely buzz going and you were honestly ready to jump on top of Miguel. "I missed you though."

Your eyes dipped down as you waited for his reaction.

"Me too," he quietly admitted, reaching for your hand. "That's why I wanted you here tonight."

You thought he would elaborate. Or if he had no intention of talking, it was the perfect opportunity for him to kiss you, especially with the way he was staring adoringly into your eyes.

Maybe you mistook adoringly for hungrily - because he slid his long fingers under your dress, up your inner thigh. Okay, maybe he missed your body more than your actual company. Either way, you weren't going to complain if you could spend the night with this gorgeous man inside you.

"You're wet," he murmured, brushing his knuckles over the lace of your panties, beginning to rub up and down deliciously. "You're always wet and ready for me."

"Yes," you panted, arching into his touch. He teased you for a moment longer, then abruptly pulled his hand away, pulling a whine of protest from deep in your chest.

"This way, baby," he softly instructed, reaching for your hand and leading you up a winding staircase. Your heartbeat quickened as he led you into a luxurious den - spacious and decadent, with a roaring fire.

"Holy shit," you marveled, taking in the half dozen shelves filled with books, the expensive-looking paintings and antiques scattered around the room. "If this is one of your moves - it's a good one."

Miguel chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight. "I don't bring anyone here, sweetheart. Just you."

A thrill zipped through your body. Even if he was lying - even he brought other women here - you were more than happy to be the focus of his attention for the night.

"Now, why don't I get comfortable," he chimed, easing down into an oversized leather chair. Leaning back, he spread his legs, thrusting up slightly as if putting himself on display.

Wondering if he wanted you to join him, he gestured to your body. "Take your clothes off."

Biting your lip, you eased into your office routine, thrilled at the thought of a private striptease for Miguel, in his home.

Deciding to stretch it out a bit, you pulled one thick strap of your dress off one shoulder, pausing to lock eyes with him, making him wait just a moment before pulling down the opposite strap. Your dress had no zipper - it was pretty form-fitting. So you started to push it down over your breasts, pausing as the material pooled around your hips.

Shifting his own hips, Miguel stretched one arm out on the back of the chair, his eyes fixed on your lace-covered tits.

Pausing just a moment longer - just to feel like you had a little bit of power - you finally turned around, giving Miguel a generous view of your ass as you pushed the dress over the swell of your hips. It dropped to the floor and you leaned all the way over, showing off your lace thong as you pulled the dress off your feet.

"Stay," he ordered, wetting his lips at the sight in front of him. The thin slip of lace barely covered your pussy and left your round ass bare for him.

Bracing yourself on your fingertips, you obeyed, your body folded in half - ass on display.

"Get on your hands and knees."

You thought he would join you - maybe fuck you like this, but he wasn't done giving orders.

"Turn around and crawl."

Fuck. Something about his new crawling command made your pussy quiver. You quickly complied, slowly crawling toward him in your lace bra and thong, noticing the huge bulge in his black pants.

"Good girl," he purred, his eyes flashing wildly at you on your hands and knees for him.

After ordering you to stop, he asked you to take off your bra. "Want to see those pretty tits," he almost growled. "Play with them for me."

You did as he asked, grabbing two handfuls of your breasts and kneading them, putting on a show for him, before rolling your nipples tantalizingly.

"That's it, baby," he panted, reaching to stroke his hard length over his pants. "Look so pretty for me."

"Don't you want to touch me, Miguel?" You pleaded, working your breasts and rolling your hips downward temptingly.

Damn you were breathtaking. Miguel unfastened his pants and slid his hand inside to pull out his cock, needing some friction.

He ignored your question, instead demanding that you get your panties nice and wet for him. You rubbed your panties up into your center before removing them and making sure they were sopping. Reaching for them, Miguel draped the soaked lace over his cock and began to jack himself off.

A really embarrassing sound left your mouth at the sight. This brilliant man was filthy and you could not get enough of it.

"Show me your pussy," he commanded, his voice strangled as he pumped his cock with your panties around it.

Leaning back on your elbows, still on the floor, you spread your naked legs wide for him.

"Use your fingers," he panted, "and fuck yourself."

"Miguel, I want you," you begged. "I'm so wet, baby. I need you so bad."

Disobeying his command, you closed your legs and got on all fours again, crawling toward him.

He almost came at the sight. But you weren't listening to him.

"I told you what to do," he warned, halting the motion of his hand on his cock.

"I don't want to," you pouted, reaching up from the floor to place your hands on his thighs. "We're not at work - you can't tell me what to do."

Growling, he tossed your panties aside and grabbed the nape of your neck, yanking your head forward. "I'm nice to you at work, muñeca, but this is different."

"Prove it," you challenged, a little on the bratty side. "Because I'm getting bored over here by myself."

His crimson irises flashed angrily. "Bored? And what is it that will keep you from being bored?"

Reaching for his cock, you used both hands to twist it almost painfully, causing him to hiss in pleasure. "I want you to fuck me."

Pushing your hands away from him, he kept his grip on your neck with one hand. Standing up, he used his free hand to push his pants and underwear down to his knees.

"Oh, I'm going to fuck you," he darkly whispered, using one hand rub the tip of his cock along your cheek and then over your lips. "Show me your tongue."

Peering up at him expectantly, you complied, the heat between your legs pooling and beginning to drip as he laid his thick, heavy length on your waiting tongue.

"I'm going to give you what you want, baby," he lowly purred. "I'm going to fuck your face until you cry for me."

Snapping his hips forward, he thrust his cock to the back of your throat, making you instantly gag on his tip, which made him groan in pleasure.

"You're gonna take me - all of me - and show me you're my good girl," he ordered, fucking your mouth deeply...steadily.

Ignoring the plush rug burning your knees, you struggled to breathe in through your nose, hollowing your cheeks to make it good for him. Tears burned your eyes as he hit the back of your throat again.

He growled at the mess he was making of you, but there was a small part of him that wondered if he would push you too far. You hadn't been quite this rough with one another in the office. Loosening his grip on your hair, he slightly slowed his thrusting when he felt your soft hands reaching around to grasp the round curve of his ass. Then you pulled him hard down your throat, sucking and swallowing so deliciously that he almost came from that one motion.

If Miguel wanted to be rough with you, then you would be rough right back. He was going to fucking pay for it later though. You wanted some things from him too.

Ramming him back into your face, you worked him fast and deep, moaning against his cock until you felt him wet and hot on your tongue. You drank him down, your pussy fluttering at the animalistic noises you'd managed to pull from him while he finished.

Pulling off his softening cock, you wiped your messy mouth with the back of your hand, taking a moment to catch your breath.

Your eyes flickered up to his fucked out expression and you held his gaze, standing up, ready for the next round.

"My turn," you purred, taking his hand and pulling him toward the plush leather chair he'd first sat in. Easing down, you spread your legs. "Get on your knees."

Still reeling from the life-changing things you'd just done with your mouth, Miguel huffed out a laugh. "Funny."

Narrowing your eyes, you closed your legs and crossed your arms over your tits. If he was going to deny you, then he wouldn't get to gawk.

"You fucking heard me, Miguel," you warned. "It's my turn."

Feeling a little apprehensive about eating you out, he decided to remind you, "I thought you wanted me to fuck you."

"Yeah, I do," you teased, "with your tongue."

You spent the next several minutes in absolute heaven. Miguel wasn't about to deny you. Something about you bossing him right back had him hardening again, quickly.

Being careful with his fangs, he dragged his tongue up and down your slit, toying with every fold and crevice, teasing you, tasting and relishing you. You had expected Miguel to eat pussy like a demon, but this slow sampling thing was making you feral.

What started as begging words descended into the most desperate, filthy sounds that had ever emanated from your throat, ever. Flattening his tongue, Miguel pressed hard on your clit, moving side to side before rapidly fluttering the tip. The change of motion and the faster pace made you come instantly.

Somehow, your first orgasm only made you hungrier for him. It hardly relieved any of your desire for him to completely ruin you all night long.

Sliding your fingers into his dark waves, you turned his head up to face you. "I want more," you desperately whispered, easing off the chair and shoving him down onto the rug. Pushing his shirt up his ripped abdomen, you stopped as your fingers toyed with his nipples.

"Get out of these clothes and fuck me."

"So bossy," he smirked, rolling you over and laying you on the soft carpet. Ripping his shirt over his head, he enjoyed the sight of you licking your lips at his rippling muscles. Shedding the rest of his clothes, he eased back onto the chair, preparing to pull you backward onto his lap like usual.

Safer that way.

He could tell you wanted him to kiss you, but maybe you could go a couple rounds and blow off some steam before he tried to confess to you why he hadn't.

"Come down here," you purred, stretching your hand out to him. "Lie down with me."

"You like giving the orders, don't you?" He smiled at you and decided to join you on the floor.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you inched your body underneath his, allowing your legs to fall open. "I want to see your eyes while you fuck me," you admitted to him, your gaze flickering to his mouth.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he could even think about trying to control the signals he was giving you.

Easing up just a little, you pressed your lips to his, reaching to ease his stiff cock inside you.

"F-fuck," he whispered against your mouth, shifting his hips to sink into you fully. "Always feel so good around me, baby."

"Kiss me," you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper.

This was such a bad idea. But he kissed you. Just your lips. Slowly fucking into you, he pressed his mouth gently to yours. Then he nibbled your top lip before switching to your bottom. It all went to hell when you slid your tongue inside his mouth.

His first instinct was to roughly push you away, but he managed to sit up, his back hitting the chair and his cock still inside you. You eagerly shifted to this new position, easing down in his lap to ride him, letting out a soft whine as the two of you rocked back and forth.

"Feels so good, Miguel," you gasped, twisting your beautiful body, your tits bouncing as you moved a little faster.

Strong hands slid up the curve of your back as he took a nipple into his mouth, careful to lick rather than suck. You moaned, gripping his hair and fucking yourself down on him harder.

He switched nipples, pulling the most deliciously desperate sounds from your mouth. But once he eased back to look at you, you pounced. You kissed him hard, gripping the sides of his face, slowing your thrusts as your tongue plunged into his mouth.

Then the tip of your tongue ran across his fang and sliced open.

His eyes shot open as the warm, metallic taste of your blood filled his mouth. Gripping your hair, he sucked hard on your tongue, his hips fucking up into you at a rapid, bruising pace.

Everything he was doing had turned suddenly rough, but you were into it, moaning into his mouth as he sucked your tongue. Then you felt his other fang slice into your tongue and Miguel growled like an animal into your mouth.

Letting out a little whimper at the sting, you thought maybe he'd just gotten carried away, when he ripped his mouth away from yours and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

"Taste so fucking good," he darkly growled, fucking you so hard and so fast you could barely think straight.

You started to say his name when you realized he was licking your throat. Your brain short-circuited when he kissed you there. You felt like a limp rag doll, unable to keep up with his wild bucking.

A sudden pain zipped through your body as you realized Miguel had bit you. Hard. You had noticed his sharp teeth before. They looked like fangs, but you just assumed they were very prominent canines.

You were wrong. They were definitely fangs because now, Miguel was drinking your blood. He was actually sucking blood out of you.

You should have been afraid. You should have been disgusted. But your body simultaneously ascended to a euphoric bliss and began to go strangely numb. You were coming - it was the strangest, wildest, best orgasm of your life. But at the same time, you felt as though you had been drugged.

Miguel was sucking and sucking and growling and fucking - he finished inside you, and by then, you couldn't even feel his warmth. When he pulled away, his eyes were wild and glowing bright red, matching the blood - your blood drenching his chin.

You felt so weak, so limp in his arms - strangely safe but never more vulnerable. You wanted to reach up to touch his face, to somehow connect with him in some way, or to calm his eyes, which were franticly scanning over your body. But you couldn't move your arm.

Realizing you were somewhat paralyzed, you let out a little whine of desperation, and started to feel afraid.

"Shhh, shh, it's okay," Miguel soothed, cradling you close and rocking you in his arms. "It's okay, you're okay."

Your eyes burned with tears but you could barely feel them roll down your cheeks.

Miguel should have felt awful.

But as you laid there, limp in his arms, crying for him, numb and bleeding from your throat - he'd never seen a more perfect sight. What he wouldn't give to fuck you again, just like this.

He knew he was a monster, and that he was never going to see you again after this night. But just for a moment, he allowed the beast to revel in the madness.

Scooping you up in his arms, he carried you down the hall to his bedroom, a thrill spiking through him as you whimpered in fear.

"You were such a good girl for me," he whispered, laying you down and brushing his fingers across your cheek. "I'm going to take care of you now."

He left the room just long enough to get a couple of damp cloths - one to wipe up the mess between your legs and one to clean the bloody wound on your throat. Just the sight of his spend leaking out of you and your blood dripping from the punctures in your neck made him hard - again.

That was the thing about regenerative powers and superhuman stamina. He was always ready to fuck.

The animal in him wanted to climb on top of you and take your limp body, listening to your sweet whimpers and drinking and drinking until he'd had his fill. His gaze roved over you hungrily as he reached to brush one hand over your breast.

But as your beautiful, desperate eyes flickered up to his, he wanted to be more for you. He wanted to be human again. "I'll get you some clothes," he said softly.

When he returned, he was dressed in a pair of black joggers, his mouth clean of blood. Lifting your body up, he slid a soft t-shirt over your head. Then he slid a pair of his boxer shorts over your legs. They were hilariously big, but it would signal to you that nothing more was going to happen between your legs.

Lifting you up a little, he pulled the covers out from under you before tucking you in gently. He eased down beside you and reached for your hand.

"The numbness you feel will wear off soon. I'm going to get your things. If you feel tired, you can sleep. I won't bother you." He sighed, realizing how badly he'd fucked everything up. Nodding to the bedside table, he added, "There's a phone if you want to call for a car. Whatever you want to do is fine."

Giving your hand a final squeeze, he stood and turned to leave the room. Hearing a distressed whimper, he turned back. "It'll wear off, I promise."

He was right. In a few minutes, you could start to feel your fingers and toes and your tongue didn't feel like sandpaper. But with the returned feeling, you distinctly felt the sharp stab wounds in your neck.

Miguel returned with your dress, handbag and shoes and set them on a nearby chair, before placing your phone on the bedside table.

"M-Miguel," you managed to whisper, your fingers twitching as you tried to reach for him.

Seeing your distress, and hearing his name on your lips, brought him back to reality. The guilt he felt was crushing, but he deserved it. He was an animal and he had hurt you.

"I won't bother you again, sweetheart. Just rest, okay?" Then he turned to leave.

You said his name again, making him halt.

"Stay."

@deputy-videogamer

next->

#miguel o'hara #decadent fic #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spider-man: across the spider-verse #sm: atsv fic #sm: atsv #spiderverse #oscar isaac fic

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coneyislandbabey · 1 year

Text

going to california. -> e. roundtree

WARNINGS: some swearing, alcohol, sappy shit, use of my own personal headcanon that eddie's full name is edwin.

SYNOPSIS: you move to Los Angeles, and are surprised to run into an old childhood friend. word count: 3,351

The heat was different in Los Angeles. Not like New York City, where you’d spent the last few years of your life; all humid, thick walls of wet air that cloy inside your lungs and make you hot from the inside out, relentless, merciless warmth even in the dead of night, even with the windows open laying naked on the bed. No, here the air was thin and dry, the egg-yolk sun warming but not ruthlessly so. You stepped out of the car, joints creaking, and swallowed up a great lungful of that thin bright air, felt the clean glare of the sun bouncing off the hot car and onto your face. New. Everything you’d been hoping for already.

After graduating from your Pittsburgh high school a semester early, you had booked it onto a train to Manhattan about five seconds after your diploma was in your hands, getting a job in the mailroom of a newspaper and crashing on your cousin’s couch, sleeping only a few hours a night and spending every other waking moment writing or wandering the five boroughs sniffing out experiences to write about. Writing was your lifeblood, and it had been practically since you’d first learned how to hold a pen. You never knew exactly what you wanted to do with your life– where you wanted to go, what you wanted to see, where you wanted to end up– you only knew that you’d be writing the whole way through. And that’s what you did for those few years in New York. You wrote feverishly, a woman possessed. Your cousin complained daily of the little green desk lamp you kept on at all hours of the night, sitting in your sleep shirt with your notebook propped on the arm of the couch, fingers bruised from the ever-present pressure of pen against skin.

It worked out for you, though. All those sleepless nights, accepting strangers’ invitations to parties in Brooklyn or Alphabet City or even the Rockaways, dropping acid in people’s basements or getting drunk on the subway, even rising in the ranks of your job at the paper until you were a real and true reporter: after a year and a half, you had a half-presentable essay collection and a publisher who wanted to make your wildest dreams come true. And that was that; your essay collection was published a little over six months later, and every week it climbed higher on the best seller’s list. In the wake of your immediate success, your publisher wanted to start working on a second publication, another collection of essays or short stories or a novel, whatever you wanted, they just wanted your name on another book in their arsenal. You readily agreed, of course– this was the only thing you’d ever wanted to do. But you walked out of that meeting, and onto the streets of Manhattan, and all you felt was suffocation where there used to be inspiration.

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone in the city who knew you, and therefore knew your more impulsive tendencies, when you told them you’d bought a shitty old car for a hundred bucks and were planning to roadtrip your way to L.A. You hadn’t been behind the wheel of a car since before you’d moved to New York, but you’d seen the old thing with the ‘for sale’ sign tucked into the dash and you knew you had to have it. Already the inspiration was pouring in; a novelized account of your roadtrip across the country and ensuing introduction into Los Angeles society. The idea consumed your brain until there was room for nothing else, until you turned right around on the sidewalk and bought the car then and there. You spent the next 24 hours on a goodbye tour, visiting everyone you had come to love in those last few years, and then your meager belongings were all shoved into the backseat of your new acquisition and you were sitting in the driver’s seat, hoping to god you still remembered which pedal was the gas and which was the brakes.

You made it to the opposite coast after two weeks of seedy motels, eating roadside burgers with strangers, and climbing up to the roof of the car every night to lay out and see the stars the way you never could living in the city. And here you were, a week into your new Los Angeles life, having just spent most of your book earnings on buying a tiny, dilapidated house in Laurel Canyon with huge windows and the perfect little overgrown backyard for you to sit and write in. You felt it in your bones already, that this was where life would start to become important for you.

***

You had met Brandi the day you moved in. She and a few friends lived in the house across the street, and being the only one home at the time, she came over to help you move your stuff in when she noticed you unloading the car in the morning. She had a golden California tan and big blonde hair, and the kindest smile you’d ever seen. She was your best friend five minutes after meeting her.

“You have to come by tonight,” she said by way of greeting as she let herself in the front door. It was late afternoon, and you were stretched out across the couch on your stomach, editing something you’d written in your notebook on the road trip here. Old habits die hard. She worked as a cocktail waitress at The Troubadour, and in the few weeks you’d been living in Laurel Canyon, she’d tried to get you to go nearly every time she had a shift, to no avail.

“I don’t know, Brand–” you started, flipping your hair over your shoulder shifting to face her.

“No, man. Enough of this writing bubble thing you got going on. You’re coming out tonight,” she said sternly. You couldn’t help the laugh you let out– Brandi was spot on. Every time she asked you to go out, you told her you weren’t interested because you were trying to double down and polish up the road trip writing you’d done on the way here. “How are you supposed to– how did you say it? ‘Be inducted into Los Angeles Society’ if you never go out and see Los Angeles society?”

“Okay, fair point,” you responded, sitting up. “I’ll go tonight, alright? You got me.”

Brandi grinned, clapping her hands together in delight. “Okay, Yaz and Lynn will walk over and get you and you’ll all drive in together, alright? And I’ll see you there.”

“Sounds good,” you nodded.

“That was a lot easier than I thought it would be. I’ll see you later!” With that, Brandi disappeared down the front steps just as fast as she’d arrived. You sighed, closing your notebook and falling back onto the couch. After your few weeks of relative seclusion, you were more than ready to get back out into the world and have some fun, and yet, there was something uneasy growing in your chest. Actually going out in the city, that meant really starting this new part of your life, and well, honestly, that was a little terrifying. Better to rip the band-aid off now instead of rotting inside the house any longer.

***

A few hours later, you were dressed in a pair of bell bottoms and a sheer orange tie-front top with big bell sleeves, your makeup and hair more done and put together than they’d been in months. You observed yourself in the mirror one last time, before lighting a cigarette and loping down the stairs to where Brandi’s two roommates were waiting, equally glammed up, for you. You sat in the backseat of Yaz’s car on the way over, window all the way down and your chin resting on the sill. You were used to city sights, you knew your neighborhood and so many others in New York intimately, but L.A. was different, and so thrilling.

The Troubadour was different from the clubs you’d frequented in New York, but it still held some level of familiarity, and you were hit with an unexpected pang of nostalgia when you walked in with the girls. You grabbed Yaz and Lynn’s hands and pulled them farther in, toward the stage where an upbeat band was in the middle of a song, and immediately began dancing, trying to shake off the more complicated feelings of being here in this new place. When the song ended, you whistled loudly for the band, who were packing themselves up and off stage, making way for the next one.

“Our next band is one we know and love here, give it up for The Six!” a silky-voiced man announced into the microphone before vacating the stage. In his place, a band made up of four guys and one blonde woman took the stage, setting up their instruments and getting ready. You cheered with everyone else in the crowd, though you weren’t familiar with them the way the locals clearly were. Within a few seconds, the guitars had struck up, and the front man was at the microphone, lashing out the first lyrics of a song.

And you realized. No, you didn’t know them the way the locals did, but you knew them. The boys, at least. You recognized Graham Dunne first, that cherubic face and big baby blues the exact same as you’d last seen him in high school. Warren Rojas was behind him on the drums, unmistakable mop of curly black hair dancing as if it had a mind of its own on top of his bobbing head. The front-man, you guessed, was Graham’s brother Billy, just familiar enough to place the face despite never knowing the older boy back home. And, sure enough, there was Eddie Roundtree on bass. The last time you’d seen him, he was just a lanky kid with a guitar that he still gripped awkwardly in his too-big hands. (‘Not ‘too big”, you remember him telling you back then. ‘The rest of me just hasn’t caught up yet.”) He’d grown his hair out, you noted. Grown broader in the shoulders, too. His hands were no longer comically large, compared to the rest of him. He had such an easy command of the bass he was playing, so relaxed on the stage, like he belonged and he knew it. It was kind of hard for you to reconcile this version of him with the juvenile one you used to know.

And they were good, too. You could see the way a group like them could become something great, something once in a lifetime. They weren’t there yet, but you could vividly see just how it could happen for them. Eddie Roundtree and the Dunne boys and Warren Rojas, all in Los Angeles at the same time as you, all of you so far from home. You couldn’t help the startled laugh that bubbled up and out of you. Lynn turned a questioning look on you, but you didn’t have time to turn and start explaining yourself before Eddie’s eyes swept your way, probably drawn by the laughter. Those brown eyes settled on your own, lazily, for a few seconds, before widening ever so slightly. His hands slowed, but never faltered, on the strings for just a second. Something zinged through your chest when you realized that he recognized you, too, even after all these years.

You watched Eddie for the entirety of his band’s set. You couldn’t help it– his fingers dancing across the strings of his guitar were mesmerizing, and besides, you couldn’t get over the fact that this was the same boy from your childhood, that all of them were boys who’d slept through your shared classes, who had walked to your house after school to drop off your homework when you were home sick, who you commiserated with about running the mile in high school gym class.

Brandi found you during the last song, pulling you into a hug and squealing about how happy she was that you actually came. Reluctantly, you tore your eyes from the stage and gave your best friend your full attention, allowing her to drag you back to the bar so she could buy you a drink. By the time you had a drink in hand, The Six’s set was over and a new band was coming on, so you stayed back by the bar even after Brandi had to leave you alone to go do her job.

“I knew it was you, bluebird.” You whirled around at the nickname, coming face to face with Eddie. He was a few inches taller than you remembered, smiling down at you with a curious mix of surprise and something else swirling in his brown eyes.

“I haven’t heard that nickname in years,” you laughed. “Hi, Edwin.”

He groaned. “Nobody calls me that, woman.”

“I always have,” you pointed out, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s true. What are you doing in L.A?”

“Writing, mostly,” you shrugged. “I’ve got one book out and now the publisher wants another. You know how it is.”

Eddie’s grin grew wider, if possible. “Glad to hear you’re still writing. I remember you back in high school, always carrying that notebook around that you’d never let anyone look at.”

You laughed, recalling the notebook yourself. You had treated that thing like it was your baby. “Yeah, well if you’re curious about my writing, you could buy my book and see.”

“First thing on my agenda tomorrow is to go out and get a copy,” he said easily, and you snorted.

“Good, you better like it. And what about you guys? When did you get here?”

“Few months ago. We’ve been playing gigs at a few regular spots while we put together an album.”

“I want a copy of that record as soon as it comes out!”

“You’ll be the first one to get one outside of the band,” Eddie grinned. “Where are you staying?”

“I bought a place in Laurel Canyon a few weeks ago. It’s tiny, but still a hell of a lot bigger than the living room I was sleeping in in New York,” you laughed.

“That’s where we are, too,” Eddie said, jerking his head in the direction of backstage. “And, New York? What have you been up to since high school?”

“Many things, Edwin, many things,” you grinned.

Eddie stayed quiet, all soft smile and soft eyes aimed in your direction. You felt something long dormant start to shift in your chest.

“I’m really glad to see you, bluebird,” he said after a moment, voice quieter than before. A sentiment just for the two of you to hear.

You nudged his shoulder affectionately with your own. “Me too, Roundtree.”

“What do you say about us getting together some night soon? You can fill me in on this whole New York story,” Eddie suggested.

“Only if you tell me how you all wound up here, doing this,” you responded.

“Deal,” Eddie said, sticking out his hand to shake. You took it; his palm was warm and calloused beneath your own.

***

“It was not like that!” you insisted through your laughter. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Roundtree.”

Three nights later, and you and Eddie were sitting on your living room floor, bottle of scotch between you, very much on your way to being drunk and well into reminiscing about your shared high school days. He had shown up at your door a few hours earlier with a smile on his face, and the scotch and a copy of your book in his hands. You laughed so hard at the fact that he’d actually gone out and bought a copy of the book that you almost forgot to ask him how the hell he knew where you lived. Sheepishly, he told you that he’d seen you talking with Brandi and asked her after you left that first night.

“I promise, birdy, Jimmy McKenna was gone for you for years. You drove the poor kid crazy because he would try to flirt with you all the time and you just never picked up on it,” Eddie explained through his own laughter. You sorted quickly through memories of the boy Eddie was talking about, and as what he said slowly clicked into place, you only began to laugh harder.

“Oh, god,” you said, throwing an arm over your eyes. “I have always been such an idiot.”

“Not an idiot, just oblivious,” Eddie countered. “You were too wrapped up in your writing to notice anyone around you.”

“Not true! I noticed you,” you said defensively.

Eddie’s eyebrows raised slightly, a split second look of surprise washing over his features before they settled back into that soft smile he always seemed to be wearing around you. He took another swig of whisky, humming. “Lucky me, then.”

You scoffed, trying to cover the way your heart stuttered with another drink of whiskey. “You were one of the only people I liked hanging out with back then, Ed. I liked stopping to watch you and Graham and Warren mess around with your instruments in the garage whenever I walked by. When I took off to the city, I really did miss you.”

“Well, if it means anything, I missed you, too. We all did,” Eddie said. His voice was softer now, more serious, matching your own. “Nobody knew where you went, you were just gone when we got back from winter break.”

“I just had to get outta there, you know?” you sighed. “I worked my ass off so I could graduate early. I had all these visions of the life I wanted to live, and it was so big. I was so focused on getting there that I didn’t even realize there would be anything to miss until it was all gone.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. Don’t tell the guys this, but even now I sometimes miss Pittsburgh,” he admitted.

“Me too,” you nodded. “I just keep collecting places to miss. Pittsburgh first, and now New York, too. I felt so suffocated there by the end, too, and now? Some nights I can’t even sleep because I’m not back on that awful couch in my cousin’s apartment, listening to the Manhattan traffic.”

“Guess that’s life, right? You just keep collecting things to miss,” Eddie said. At some point, he had shuffled closer to you, both of you sitting with your backs leaning against the bottom of the couch. You leaned your head on his shoulder. “I’m really happy I don’t have to miss you anymore, bluebird.”

You looked up, and there were those eyes, big and brown and full of affection, so close. Looking right at you, right through you, like he could see all your guts and bones and thoughts and desires all at once. Riding the tide of whiskey-fueled courage and extreme affection you were feeling for the man sitting next to you, you reached out, palm against his cheek, and pulled his face to yours. The kiss was slow and languid, noses nudging softly against skin, Eddie’s mouth gentle against your own. His hand moved to rest on your hip, a warm and comforting pressure against your skin.

When he pulled away, your breath catched at the sight of the silly little smirk gracing his face. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do that the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Oh fuck off Eddie, don’t tell me you had a crush on me in high school too and that’s just another thing I was too oblivious to realize,” you said, lightly shoving his shoulder.

“Okay, I won’t tell you if you kiss me again,” he said, grinning. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed his collar and pulled his face back to yours. You could feel his smile against your lips, which only made you want to hold him closer, to make up for all the years you’d gone without him in your life.

#daisy jones and the six #djats #eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x reader #eddie loving #eddie loving x reader #warren rojas #warren rhodes #graham dunne #billy dunne #camila dunne #daisy jones #karen sirko

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wri0thesley · 2 years

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It’s me again… I’m annoying you again with my half awake thoughts. Ugh thinking about oral 🫠 From Thoma insisting that you let him pleasure you please and how he falls apart having your attention (and mouth) focused on him. Or Childe (I’m sorry) just being far too rough and hard because he’s sooo excited and you feel so good. AND UGH he absolutely prefers it in risky situations it makes it so much. BRB creating a detailed list of where they best like their cum on you (I’m gross)

And. AND please this is haunting me. Eating Yae Miko out at her shrine??? How teasing her voice is and how she knows you can do better than that. Or Lisa on her desk, legs wrapped around you to keep you in place... Meowwww

jade you are never annoying me with ur thoughts ever. thank u for always giving my genshin brain rot something to bounce off of. i cannot Not Think about them

cw: not sfw, minors dni. oral sex, fellatio. reader is afab; one gendered term ("princess") is used in childe's blurb. squirting. kind of exhibition-ismy in miko's. bondage in ayato's. mentions of non-human features (knots, inhuman tongue) in gorou's. ft: thoma, childe, yae miko, lisa, diluc, ayato, gorou

Thoma, who loves being able to use his mouth on you. He's torturously slow; clearly enjoying himself, making pleased, satisfied noises in between the slow laps and licks of his tongue, grinding himself against whatever he's closest to in order to provide friction to his own untouched cock. He lives to serve; that includes on his knees, and nothing pleases him more than your hand tangled in his hair and your hips canting up to his mouth and your over-stimulated voice pitching and keening as he leads you up and over more orgasms than you ever even realised your body was capable of. Thoma, who, when the tables are turned . . . smiles at you and says you don't have to. Who flushes so prettily when you brush your cheek against the slick head of his cock, who can hardly contain his own moans when your tongue drags across the slit of the head. Who blushes and gasps and whimpers and is pushed over the edge so, so easily when he looks down at you and sees how adoring your gaze is when your eyes meet his.

Childe, who may not have the most experience in this matter but certainly makes up for that in enthusiasm. Who drags his tongue over you with little finesse but ardent fervour; who notices when you jerk underneath him and likes to go back to that point. If you're not whining and to the point of tears, why even bother? Childe considers all things a competition; a fight for victory. And he intends to be victorious over your orgasm, too - if you do not come in his mouth, what good has he really been here? If you squirt, be prepared - once Childe knows, he certainly won't be satisfied using his mouth on you ever again unless he makes you do it over and over. Childe, too, who gets . . . a little too invested in you, when it's your mouth sealed around his cock. Who perhaps pushes his hips too roughly; bumps the head of his cock against your throat and loves to see you gag on it, the cute noise that escapes, the widening of your eyes. Who croons; "Oh, princess - too big for you?"

(He does like risky situations, of course; loves pulling you into a disused alley between crates in Liyue Harbor and pushing your shoulders. Adores bidding you crawl beneath his desk in the Northland Bank. Lets his hand brush your thigh under a table in a restaurant, and perhaps slips it between them, bemoaning that the waiter is coming back any moment now so he can't simply bury his head between your legs. Adores a public celebration after one of his debt collecting missions has gone smoothly; under a tree, a patch of grass just a little too close to where he last spoke to a group of treasure hoarders for you to not be on edge--)

Yae Miko, who plays with your hair whilst you're buried between her thighs. Who laughs softly when you profess anxiety that you are profaning the holy shrine, and simply quirks an eyebrow as she says; "Oh, but you're servicing your Guuji, are you not, little one? I can think of nothing more fitting for a place of worship than your pretty mouth between my legs." Who insists you don't wear underwear beneath your clothes when she takes you with her to the publishing house, and allows herself the slow luxury of using her mouth on you when she ought to be in a meeting with a group of editors waiting outside her office, who are instead currently being treated to you muffling your whimpers with your hand and Miko wetly kissing bare skin as she insists; "Now, now, little one. Let them hear you." If you're very lucky, you may even get to pet her ears whilst she's making you see stars. She occasionally makes soft remarks about how much the Raiden Shogun would like you, she's sure . . . the Shogun has always had a taste for sweet things, and Miko can think of nothing sweeter than you--

Lisa, whose eyes are kind when you're locked between her long, stockinged legs - who praises you with every breath in a tone that suggests she's patronising you, just a little. Who makes soft, pleased little noises in between your licks - who adores having you look up at her for her approval. And in turn, when she comes on your face and pushes you away . . . she wipes a thumb over your wet mouth and 'tsks' at you. "So messy," she chides. "And in the library, too." When the tables have turned, and she's in between your legs, the power dynamic does not change. It's clear she knows what she's doing; as knowledgeable as this as she is in all things. The noises that come from her are downright obscene; it's really a lucky thing it's after hours and Jean is locked in her own office, because Lisa does not feel the need to muffle how much she's enjoying the taste of you on her lips. Of course, she's still a librarian above all else, and rules that apply to you do not reply to her - when your whimper of her name breaks the air as she comes, she pauses to look up at you with a wicked smile on her lips. "The library," she tells you, in utter sincerity, "is no place for noisiness. . . must we swap places again, so I can find a way to quieten you down?"

Diluc, whose mouth and breath are hot against you - who keeps looking up at you to check that he's doing it right, he's not being too rough. Who needs you to tug on his hair sometimes to ground him, or he loses himself completely - who gets carried away in his desperate need to be needed by you and needs the pillow of your thighs either side of his ears tightening as a reminder to slow down. Diluc, too, who goes all-over flushed red to see your own pretty face between his legs, on your knees - who tries to bite back his whimpers and groans and maintain face but can't quite manage it. Diluc, who loses control once more just as he's about to come and his hips begin to jack-hammer into your mouth, cock twitching wildly, whimpering out breathless apologies about how he needs this even as he's surging thick spurts of his come down your throat. Who tenderly wipes your mouth when he's done of where his release has pooled at the corners and whispers to you how grateful he is.

Ayato, who loves nothing more than seeing you squirm . . . and you do squirm so beautifully when he takes his time over you. When he ties your wrists to the bedposts with silken ribbons and presses your ankles apart. He so rarely gets to spend leisure time how he wants it . . . so when he does have it, what better way to spend it than with his tongue dragging across your slick folds, teasing you to the edge but never quite letting you topple? Unfortunately, there's no telling when the Yashiro Commissioner might be called away to attend to urgent business, and even if he's currently buried with his mouth in your cunt, he cannot leave anyone waiting for too long - but you'll be a sweet obedient darling for him, won't you? Simply lay there until he returns? Oh, he forgot to untie you? You're so wet and turned on and needy you can barely breathe, and he's wiping his mouth and calling to Thoma he'll be right out? Well . . . no matter. You'll live.

Gorou, who eats you out like an eager puppydog; whose tongue is longer and flatter than an ordinary human's, whose tastebuds are more sensitive . . . and who laps and drools and licks at you like you're the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. Who doesn't register that his tail is thumping in time with his heartbeat and his ears are flickering wildly - who doesn't realise that he's whimpering and whining as he does it. Gorou, who is utterly lost in the ecstacy of what you taste like and has to be physically pushed away when you get so sensitive you can barely breathe, and whines about that too. When you use your mouth on him . . . oh, he can barely control himself. He's rutting into you with his hips stuttering wildly, his mouth dropping open to show sharp teeth and a lolling tongue, his eyes heavy-lidded and dreamy. Oral isn't always enough for him; he feels his knot start swelling, and there's nothing he would like more than to end the night with his entire length stuffed as deep into you as he can go.

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letsgetrowdy43 · 10 months

Text

An Unexpected Surprise ☆—

Here have a Littlest Hughes thought that has been bouncing around in the back of my brain for the past two days :)

Au Masterlist!!

As I've stated before Honey and Quinn had a shotgun wedding when they learned about their unexpected pregnancy.

Now picture this, Honey knows something is off with her body, she just has this gut instinct that something isn't right so she takes a test secretly. The moment the positive sign appears on the little plastic stick her heart is in the pit of her stomach, so many things bouncing around in her head.

They live in a small apartment, where's the baby gonna play? She now needs to look into the Canadian maternity leave policy. What about Quinn and roadies, she's barely got any support without him, how is she gonna do it alone? Are they even ready for this responsibility? She knows Quinn wanted to be a younger dad, but was he willing to do it this early? She's just standing in their bathroom absolutely spiralling.

Quinn hears the gasp that leaves her mouth as she stands quietly in their shared bathroom. Brows furrowed he makes his way into the bathroom to see her frozen in shock with a positive test in her hands, he reaches forward to gently take it from her, his face stuck in a state of worry as he places it back down on the bathroom counter and leaves without saying a word.

Tears start to form in Honey's eyes as Quinn exits the bathroom wordlessly, an unreadable look on his face as he just walks out. So she's stuck there contemplating everything, but unwilling to chase after him, knowing he might need a moment to collect himself. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she re-read the box to ensure she did everything correctly, to make sure it wasn't just a false positive.

Quinn walked back in silently again, but this time he looks a bit more emotional, his hand finding hers and making him look at her. "Sorry, I just needed to grab something," he whispers as she collapses right into his chest, her hands desperately gripping his shirt as he holds her for a second.

"I need to give you something," he mumbled into the crown of her head as she pulled away from him, mascara all over her face as her hands flatten out his shirt that she wrinkled, in his hands was his great-grandmother's engagement ring, an oval-shaped emerald sat on the gold band as he got down on his knee. "Please don't propose to me just cause I'm pregnant," she whispered helplessly as her fingers ran through his messy hair. "I'm not I promise, I had this big elaborate plan put together, our parents would be there, our brothers, it was nice," he shrugged, "but I saw the test, and just felt like I couldn't wait another second without it on your finger, cause we are us, Quinn and Honey, and we are meant to be. You are my forever, and now the mother of my baby, so I just think the world would feel wrong if I waited another minute with this thing just sitting in my hockey bag," he said it like a confession, a shy smile of his face as she wiped her tears.

"Please stand up so I can kiss you, and you can put the ring on me" she mumbled, her hands squeezing his shoulder. "You have to say yes first Hun," a smirk danced on his lips as she rolled her eyes. "Of course, it's a yes," she said sweetly as he slipped the ring onto her finger, standing up and crashing his lips into hers, a hand guiding her face to his as her hands wrapped around his neck.

She pulled away momentarily, "I love you" she mumbled against him, a sickly sweet smile on her face as his face dipped down to kiss her jaw, neck, and then collarbone before pulling away to finally look her in the eyes, "we're getting married," she said, kissing his cheek. "We are gonna be parents" he grinned as his hand on her hip slid to touch her stomach.

#thelittlesthughesau!!#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes fanfiction #dad!quinn hughes #jack hughes #umich hockey #luke hughes

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euovennia · 1 year

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widow CH. III

pairing: soap x fem!reader

a/n: full disclosure: this chapter may feel a bit half baked in comparison to the others (in my mind at least) but rest assured, the next one will be more mission based and i've already got a ton of ideas bouncing around for that so stay tuned!! (also thank you so much for 550+ followers, you guys are spoiling me i swear)

friendly reminder that this work is written with a fem!reader in mind, but with no specified features

PROLOGUE, CH. I, CH.II, CH. IV

The lights of the conference room are turned off and the blinds shut as Laswell flicks the projector on. The group is silent as they come face to face with the image of a man appearing to be somewhere in his early fifties holding a phone up to his ear as he gets into a black car. His lips are turned downward in a frown and despite the graininess of the image, it's clear that his eyes are filled with something eerie. Something sinister.

“This is Ivan Volkov. He’s been a person of interest for the CIA for over fifteen years.”

The man with the mohawk speaks, “Why’s that?”

“Volkov has been suspected of various crimes over the years, but the most prevalent among them all is his…creativity when it comes to human trafficking.”

Laswell switches the slide from the picture of Volkov to one that showcases the infamous hourglass symbol accompanied by various faces of little girls surrounding it.

“The main reason the CIA has had their eye on Volkov for so long is because of his practice of taking young girls, often through force, and putting them through rigorous training program so they can join his own personal team of workers, namely assassins. He calls it the Red Room.”

Union Jack cap cuts in, “And why hasn't he been taken in already?”

Laswell sighs, “Because no one could prove that he was actually doing such things so we just had to sit by and do nothing except wait for him to slip up. Unfortunately that never happened, at least not directly.”

Laswell nods her head in the direction of Shadow.

“Four years ago, Shadow was able to confirm the existence of the Red Room. Since then, she's been gathering intel on Volkov in order to pinpoint the exact location of the Red Room as well as mass pick up points for the girls he keeps hidden away until he can put them into the Red Room.”

Mohawk decides to speak up once more, “If Volkov’s gone and kidnapped them, why are they so keen on working for the lad?”

“We can't say for sure, but I think it's safe to assume the reason these girls are taken so young is because their brains are still developing. At that stage, it’d be rather easy for him to get in and manipulate them into doing his dirty work for him.”

Not wanting to stay on the topic of what Volkov did to these girls, what he did to her, Shadow decides to interject.

“So what’s your plan to catch him? I’m assuming that’s why you’ve rounded us all up here.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, everyone in the room turns their attention to her. The three unfamiliar men each showcasing varying degrees of surprise while Price and Laswell both seem to be caught off guard by the woman’s voice unexpectedly cutting through the conversation. Deciding not to vocalize the collective wave of shock rolling through the small room, Laswell simply nods.

“Yes, you’d be correct.”

Wanting to redirect the boys’ attention off Shadow, he speaks up.

“What’ve you got for us then?”

“You’ll first be flown into the heart of Moscow and dropped off at a base there before meeting up with a few contacts of mine based in Russia. They’ll drop you off ten klicks north of a village by the name of Samat where a close contact of Volkov’s resides; Sergei Magerovski. He, unfortunately, won’t be there the night you arrive so you’ll have to stay in a safe house just outside of the village. Once he arrives however, your job will be to apprehend him and get him to reveal the location of the Red Room. From there, Shadow will get in contact with me and we’ll plan accordingly.”

Price sighs as he gives Laswell a skeptical look, “That’s the plan? Seems half baked to me.”

Laswell shrugs as she leans back in her chair, “Out of all the enemies we’ve faced, Volkov is by the far the most elusive and secretive. It took hours just to find anything about Magerovski’s existence. Call him what you want, but he’s a smart man. He knows how to hide.”

Price spares a glance over to Shadow who gives him a near hesitant nod of her head before turning back to Laswell.

“Alright then. When do we leave?”

Laswell smiles, “Tonight.”

After the rather short meeting with Laswell had ended, Shadow was the first one out the door. While it wasn’t her intention to come off as rude to the rest of the team, she knew that’s what it probably looked like. So much for being a team player.

Even so, she refused to dwell on the small interaction and instead decided to start getting her gear together for the upcoming mission thinking it would take a while. Unfortunately she managed to gather everything she needed rather quickly, even with all of the extra bulk she’d be carrying around. While she greatly preferred to keep the amount of gear she took with her on missions minimal, she knew she’d need to carry a bit more than what she was used to. Not only to keep up with what was sure to be a hellish force of Volkov’s army of assassins, but also her new teammates for the time being.

What a strange word, she thought, teammates.

She continued to mull over the single word throughout the rest of her day. Even now as she sat in the back of the plane in one of the seats lined against the walls, bag neatly tucked under her seat as her fingers tap against her thigh in time with the piano notes of Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’.

Upon hearing footsteps approach her, she switches her music player off and rips out her earbud before turning her attention to the origin of the noise where she's pleasantly surprised to see Price approaching her with two cups of pudding in his hands. She wraps her headphone cable around the music player as she speaks.

“Why do you have pudding?”

Price sits beside her and holds one out to her before replying, “It’s Friday.”

The woman catches in quickly as she takes the cup of pudding from his outstretched hand.

“Our dessert day.”

Price gives her a nod of confirmation before pulling out two spoons from his pocket and sticking one in her cup. She mumbles out a small ‘thank you’ before they begin eating.

Surprisingly, Shadow is the first to speak.

“How do you feel about the mission?”

Price gulps down his spoonful of vanilla pudding before responding.

“Wish it was a bit more well laid out, but what can you do? The bloke is a dodgy little twit. What about you?”

The woman plops her spoon in the remaining bit of her strawberry pudding as she takes a few moments to think. On one hand she was more than happy to be going after Volkov, but on the other hand, she couldn't help but feel like something awful was going to happen.

“I’m not sure. I suppose I’m feeling a mix of things.”

“Understandable, but you've gotta feel the least bit proud of yourself, no? You've been tracking this arsehole for the better part of four years now. Must be nice to have the go head to finally get after him.”

She sighs, “It is, but I have a bad feeling. Something doesn't feel right.”

Price gulps down the last bite of his pudding, “You sure that feeling doesn't have anything to do with the fact you’re working with a team for once?”

She takes in another gulp of her pudding, “Pretty sure. It feels different.”

Price bites down on his lip before turning to her and resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder, a small wave of pride flooding his chest when he notices she doesn't flinch at his touch like she used to.

“You know well enough by now to know I can't tell you everything’s gonna go right, kid.”

Her lips purse in thought.

“But,” He gently turns her head to face him, “I can promise you that my men and I will be there with you every step of the way. You’re part of the team now, even if it is just for this mission.”

He pulls his hands away from her and leans back against the seat before she decides to speak.

“Thank you, Price…I appreciate that.”

He waves her off.

“No need for all that. Just do me a favor and start calling me Captain Price. At least when we're around the others. Higher rank and all that.”

She’s quiet for a few moments.

“Technically I don't have a rank.”

Price jokingly rolls his eyes at her comment.

“Fuckin’ mercies,” He mutters.

“Mercies?”

“Mercenaries. That's what my old Captain used to call ‘em. Suppose I took after him.”

She nods as she finishes off the last of her pudding.

“You've still gotta refer to me as Captain Price, or even just Captain.”

This time she’s the one to roll her eyes as she crosses her arms with a small smile.

“Yeah, fine. I’ll entertain it.”

“I’m being serious, kid.”

“Mhm. Yeah, whatever you say Captain Price,” she replies in a mocking tone.

He shakes his head in mild disapproval. As much as he wants to scold her for not taking him as seriously as he’d like, he couldn't bring himself to do so. It was a rare sight to see her initiating conversation, much less take part of his playful teasing. He didn't have the heart to ruin it.

Just as she opened her mouth to say something, the sound of multiple pairs of boots padding across the metal flooring of the plane made its way to her ears. Both she and Price looked up to see the Soap, Gaz, and the tall man whose name she hadn't quite learned yet step onto the plane and set their bags of gear down under the seats they decided to occupy. She couldn't help but notice it was on the other end of where she’d settled down. Not that she minded, she didn’t want to talk to them before it was necessary.

Price looks down at his watch.

“Looks like we’ll be taking off in just a few minutes. You want to come sit with the guys over there? I’ve gotta make sure they don't start taking the piss.”

She stares at them for a few moments before eventually shaking her head.

“No, I think I’ll try to get some sleep.”

Price narrows his eyes in suspicion at her answer, but decides not to push it any farther as he gets up.

“I’ll let you play the lone wolf for just a bit longer, but no more after this. You’ve got to start talking to them, build a rapport. They're not bad once you get to know them.”

She looks them over once more before turning her attention back to Price.

“The safe house. I’ll start there, I promise”

He points a finger her way with a stern expression, “‘M gonna hold ya to that.”

She gives him a small nod before he gives her a small pat on the shoulder and walks off to sit with the group of men. She watches them for a few moments longer before leaning her head back against the stiff seat and closing her eyes, willing the plane to take off sooner than later.

It had been a little under fifteen minutes after Price had decided to go over and sit with the boys, and the plane was now soaring through the air as a calm and quiet chatter filled the atmosphere around the small group. The moment could almost be seen as relaxing if you chose to ignore the reason why they were even on the plane in the first place, but of course, Soap decided to open his mouth.

“Hey Cap, I’ve got a question for ya.”

Price knew deep down he probably wouldn’t care for whatever inquiry Soap was prepared to spill from his mouth, but he allowed it anyway.

“What is it?”

Soap pointed a finger over where Shadow was sitting with her eyes closed and head leaned back.

“You know ‘er?”

Price couldn’t even bring himself to act surprised. He’d been expecting this question, but even so, it was Soap asking so he couldn’t help but delay his response just a tad.

“What makes you say that?”

Soap shrugs as he leans back in his seat and crosses his ankles over one another, “You two were eating pudding together before you ran off over here when we showed up. Just thought you might have history.”

Price doesn’t respond, causing Gaz to speak up.

“She your girlfriend, Captain?”

The boys watch Price’s face begins to grow considerably pale at the question as he seems to stumble over his words for a moment as he tries to respond.

“What? No, I–”

He lets out a deep sigh as he tries to compose himself.

“–No, She is not my girlfriend and nor will she ever.”

A beat of silence passes over the group of four before Soap speaks, a smug smile stretched on his face as he nudges Gaz with his shoulder.

“Bit defensive there, eh?”

Gaz and Soap attempt to stifle their laughter as Price seems to grow increasingly more flustered at their insinuations. While finding the teasing of the younger members mildly amusing, Ghost decides to take this moment to ask a question of his own.

“Well then what do you know about her?”

Gaz and Soap quiet down as the stern voice of their shared lieutenant cuts through the air. They both turn their attention back to Price who seems to be equal parts thankful and exasperated by Ghost’s question. He clears his throat before leaning back in his seat, one hand clasped tightly around the spare pen he grabbed from one of the pockets sewn onto his tactical vest.

“What’s got you lot so curious?”

“Never received a file on her, as good as a stranger,” Ghost replies as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Price spares a glance toward the topic of discussion out of the corner of his eye before settling it back on his team.

“She’s experienced and capable. Not to mention the most knowledgeable about Volkov out of any of us. She’ll be an asset to this team,” He says simply.

Ghost narrows his eyes, “You’re not telling us everything, are you?”

Price shrugs, “I’m tellin’ you the things that matter. You wanna learn more about her?” He points in her direction, “Then you can ask her yourself,” He finishes with a tone of finality, effectively ending the discussion.

Gaz and Soap hang their heads low in slight disappointment at Price’s answer before quickly moving onto another topic of discussion while Ghost keeps his eyes locked on the woman. It’s only after he receives a small kick from Price that he tears his gaze away from her. He always did have a staring problem.

“Yer aff yer heid.”

“English, MacTavish.”

“Use your fuckin’ context clues, L.T.”

“You little shite-” Price stops in his tracks and turns his body around to face the two men with a glare.

“I’m gonna give you two a proper beating if you don’t shut up.”

Soap’s eyes widen as he jerks a finger toward Ghost, “He started it!” “I don’t care who started it. My only concern is finding this safe house and getting you lot out of my hair for a moment,” He practically seethes, his patience for the two bickering men having diminished long ago. He opens his mouth to continue his rant, but is stopped by three gentle taps on his shoulder. He whips his head toward the origin of the touch to reveal Gaz pointing toward Shadow who was currently staring at the group from the porch of what seemed to be a cabin off in the distance.

“I found the safe house,” Soap states.

Price spares him another glance as he narrows his eyes, “You’re on thin ice, Sergeant.”

Not wanting to spend another moment outside, he stalks off in the direction of Shadow with Gaz quietly trailing by his side. As the silhouette of his captain and other sergeant grow smaller with the distance, Ghost nudges Soap.

“Come on then.”

Not wanting to open up another pointless argument, Soap decides to quietly follow after Ghost. As they approach the safe house, they’re able to take in the overall structure of the building. It was a quaint little cabin, almost homely if it weren’t for the overgrown weeds and boarded up windows. After shutting the door shut behind them, they found it was pretty much what they’d expected. Various pieces of furniture scattered across the scraped hardwood floors as well as small bits of peeling paint falling from the walls. Even so, it still wasn’t quite as bad as other safe houses they’d been in. At least this one felt somewhat like a home still.

After the group did a quick sweep through of the house, Price immediately retired himself to the one bedroom that was present in the house, stating he needed time away from the group. Not bothering to wait for a proper response, he walked away with his arrival to the bedroom only being marked by the sound of the door closing shut.

Deciding that she didn’t want to spend any more time standing around, Shadow walked over to a corner of the living room that seemed cleanest and plopped her bag down on the floor before taking a seat next to it. She stretched her legs out in front of her before leaning her upper body against the wall. She blissfully blocked out the sounds of her teammates shuffling around the room as she pulled her bag onto her lap and unzipped the side compartment. She rummaged through the small pocket in hopes of finding the small packet of plain crackers she’d stashed away on base. After more than a few moments of fruitless rummaging, she let out a small sigh. Wanting to give herself one last chance, she reached in the deep crevices of the compartment and ran her fingertips along the edges of it, her hand coming to a stop upon the unfamiliar feeling of a glossy paper like object. Curiously, she grabs onto it with her thumb and forefinger before pulling it out and resting it in the palm of her hand. As she looks down at her hand, her eyes come into contact with a small wallet sized photograph of a younger version of herself, a wide smile stretched onto her face and a Santa hat messily placed onto her head as her arm is thrown over the shoulder of a familiar face; Karina.

Two young girls wait patiently as they watch multiple women clad in plain clothing put the finishing touches on the set that lies before them. The taller of the two young girls is given a small nudge on the shoulder by the girl beside her. She ignores the gesture in order to prevent drawing any unnecessary attention to the pair, but eventually gives into the urge to speak as the nudges of the smaller girls grow stronger causing her to stumble ever so slightly.

“Stop it, Karina,” She hisses out quietly.

She can see the corner of her friend’s lips turn upward in a small smirk.

“I’m bored.”

“No one here cares if you’re bored.”

She gets another nudge in return, although this one is more gentle.

“You do.”

The older of the two has to stop the sigh that threatens to spill from her lips. It was true after all, she did care.

“What do you want me to do about it? Not like there’s any games around.”

Karina points a small finger in the direction of the board games lining a nearby bookshelf as she whispers excitedly, “Those are games!”

“Those are empty and you know that. It’s just for show.”

“But what if they’re not? Have you ever held one of them?”

The older girl goes silent at the question. She never had the opportunity.

“See! There could be games in there,” Karina states, a smug lilt to her voice that didn’t please the older girl one bit.

“Even then, we’ll never get the chance to see. Not with them around,” She says as she gives a subtle nod over to the various workers walking around the place.

Karina sighs, “I guess that’s true…What do you think it’s like? Playing a game?”

“I don’t know. It could be fun.”

“I wish we could have fun.”

The older of the two goes to speak but promptly closes her mouth as the pair is approached by one of the women who speaks to them in fluent Russian paired with a near impeccable accent.

“We are ready for you. Come.”

The two girls spare each other a glance before trailing after the woman, eventually coming to a stop in front of a neatly decorated Christmas tree that was situated just a few feet from a red brick fireplace adorned with a festive garland and plain red stockings.

Just as they had each taken in the colorful decorations, the woman they had come to know as Madame Sotskova began spilling firm instructions to the girls who immediately obeyed without question.

Soon enough, the two girls were sat on the carpeted floor with wide smiles as they tore the wrapping paper off the various presents that were stacked around them. It was an exhilarating feeling for each of them being able to open the presents and get a glimpse of the toys they uncovered, even being able to grab and hold onto them. It could’ve even been considered fun if it weren’t for the bright flash that nearly blinded them every so often, a flash that reminded them both the nature of what was really happening.

After sitting and unwrapping the various presents for over twenty minutes, the gifts were promptly taken away to be rewrapped as Madame Sotskova walked over and began spewing out different instructions just as she had before. This time, the two girls were pressed up against each other with the older of the two now wearing a Santa hat that Karina had haphazardly situated on her head. The older girl had since thrown an arm around Karina’s shoulder, effectively pulling her closer to her side at the firm direction of Madame Sotskova. Wide smiles stretched onto their faces as the bright flash of the camera began lighting up the room. They remained in that position for a few minutes before they were pulled apart by two other workers they didn’t recognize. They watched with bated breath as Madame Sotskova inspected the photos that had come from the polaroid. After giving a small nod of approval, the two girls were roughly pulled up onto their feet with the Santa hat being ripped off the older girl's head. They spared each other a small glance out the corner of their eyes before taking in a deep breath and moving their gaze to stare directly in front of them. They each resisted the urge to reach out and grab onto the other's hand as they felt a small prick on the side of their neck.

It was a scary feeling to have such an intense wave of tiredness and nausea flood your body at such a fast speed, but they remained expressionless. Even as the taunting voice of Madame Sotskova rang through their ears as their vision became a hazy mess of different lights and colors.

“Sweet dreams.”

Taking in one final breath, they both fell back into the arms of the workers as they silently prayed it would all go away when they woke up. A bad dream. But like many times before, their hopes of waking up to a better life were ripped away as they opened their eyes and their gaze flickered over to their dominant hand being cuffed to the metal frame of their assigned bed.

This was reality.

Upon hearing the sound of footsteps quietly stalking toward her, Shadow tucked the photo back into the unzipped pocket and looked up to see the masked man stop a few feet away from her before settling down onto the floor. Her eyes roamed over the man’s frame before eventually settling on his eyes. He promptly returned her stare for a few moments before giving her a small nod of his head and looking away. Satisfied that the man wasn’t one to talk, she took her gaze off him and zipped up the open pocket in her bag before pushing it off her completely. She wasn’t really in the mood for crackers anymore.

The two of them sat in silence for a good while before it was eventually broken by the sound of the man rustling through his back. She looked back over to him to see him pulling out a set of black knives. She watched as he retrieved a small microfiber cloth from his pocket before dragging it over the body of the knife. In all honesty the knives already looked clean, near impeccable even, but when you’re cooped up in a room with virtually nothing to do, she supposed giving your knives a quick wipe down wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

They remained in the same position, the masked man cleaning his knives and her simply watching. It had gone from an eerie, almost uncomfortable quiet to one that was tolerable.

Jesus, she thought, I really hate working with teams.

Just as she began debating whether or not she should just walk out of the cabin, a Scottish accent rang out through the room.

“Hey, you two gonna come over or what?”

Shadow sucked in a sharp breath before looking up to see the man across from her already staring at her. He was the first to break eye contact as he packed his knives away and stood up. He walked a few steps over to the two men who were waiting patiently before coming to a sudden stop. He spared a glance over his shoulder back toward Shadow. Her eyes flickered from the man over to the two men who were still talking before her gaze eventually settled on the empty space they made. It was enough for two people. Holding in a small sigh, she pushed herself up from the floor and began walking behind skull face.

“Yer talking oot yer arse.”

“I’m serious!” “Give it up, mate.”

At the disbelieving words of Ghost and Soap, Gaz turned to Shadow in what seemed to be a moment of desperation.

“Come on, what about you? You’ve gotta believe me.”

It was the first time any of them had thought to include her in their ongoing conversation and she couldn’t help but feel almost relieved. She’s not much for talking sure, but any type of conversation beats the mindless game of acting like you’re interested. Besides, she did make that promise to Price. She lets out a quiet sigh.

“Bit far-fetched, but I can see it happening.”

The desperate plea etched onto his face morphs into one of glee as a smile spreads onto his face.

“See, I told you!”

Soap rolls his eyes, “You outdrinking someone like Price? Impossible.”

Gaz speaks in a tone of pure exasperation, “He’s not a heavy drinker, I told you that already!”

“And we’re just supposed to take yer word for it?”

Gaz goes to respond, but is cut off by Shadow.

“He likes being aware of his surroundings. Drinking takes that away, so he doesn’t do it often. Simple as that.” She half expected the three men to stare at her shock for her sudden desire to speak much like they had during the conference with Laswell, but they didn’t, much to her surprise. Instead, she was met with the narrowed gaze of the one they called Soap.

“How d’ya know that?”

She shrugs, “We’ve known each other a while.”

Gaz is next to speak, “How long’s a while?”

She really needs to learn how to shut her mouth.

“Long enough.”

“How ‘bout a time frame? Couple months, couple years?”

“Whichever one you think.”

Soap rolls his eyes, “Yer not gonna tell us anything then, eh?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Gaz all but whines.

“It’s irrelevant.”

Ghost’s gruff voice cuts through the air, “You expect us to trust someone we know nothing about?”

She turns her attention to him, “I don’t know anything about any of you either. The only reason I know your names is because I heard it in passing.”

Gaz takes his Union Jack cap off before speaking, “Then how about your job? It’s obvious you’re not a soldier,” He motions to her bodysuit, “So what are you? Is it some special unit?”

She shakes her head no.

“I’m whatever Laswell needs me to be.”

“So…What? You’ve got some type of specialized training for that?”

She looks at Soap, “You could say that.” Gaz sighs, “We’re not getting anything out of you, are we?”

“Nothing that’s not essential to the mission.”

“You’ve gotta give us something, woman. How about your name?”

She turns her focus back to Soap, “Shadow.”

He rolls his eyes, “I mean yer real name. You do have one of those, right?”

“I do, but it’s not essential to the mission and therefore you don’t need to know.”

Ghost narrows his eyes, “You C.I.A.?”

She huffs out a breath of air, “Not a chance.”

The three men surrounding her all spare each other a glance before turning their gaze back onto the woman before them. A few moments of silence pass over them before Soap speaks.

“You know, you’re like a mini ghost.” He ignored the blank stare his Lieutenant gave him before continuing with a smile.

“I think I’m gonna like havin’ ya around.”

TAGLIST: @deadpoolsluvrr @simonsbluee @niawritesbs @ethanhawkelovers-blog @watermaylon-writes @ravenhood2792 @shoxji @griimreaperr @galacticstxrdust @cptmaverick-marvel @comedinewithmeyeh @fluffysteampunkd @callmenoiselul @isissakibbs-blog @urfavsunkissedleo @decaffeinatedmom01 @23victoria @silveroak-art @untoldshortsofthefandoms @deadbranch @ella-error505 @queen-of--roses @emrzennn @nat-the-gemini @shuttlelauncher81 @delightfully-dumbass @coolmaybelateruniverse @lilpothoscuttings @dakotali @chloepluto1306 @scaredknight @swissy23 @desxr-fx @water-hemlock18 @abbiesxox @kiriki45 @saeyaaa

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bizbat · 3 months

Text

Pretty Like This

~ Utahime Iori x Reader

~ Mature content alluded to but nothing explicit

~ Reader's appearance is not described

~ Reader can be read as any gender

~ Wc: 1.030k

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🦇Batman Masterlist🦇

~ You can find more of my works here.

Thank you to @pterodactyl-hater for requesting something with my glorious queen, my eternally loving goddess, my beautiful, gorgeous wife, Uthime Iori!

~ She looks so pretty like this.

"Pretty" doesn't seem strong enough a word to describe her.

No words truly do. There's not a phrase in any language that fully encapsulates everything about her. How a simple glance your way can make your heart squirm and writhe in your chest. How even thinking you've heard her voice down the hall is enough to make your entire body stop, make your limbs freeze mid air. How, when she talks, all you can do is sit there stupidly as she talks, her sweet voice making your brain shut off, preventing you from forming a competent sentence.

No, "pretty" isn't nearly enough. But for some reason, when you see her like this, it's the only thing that comes to mind.

She's laid out in your bed, her long, inky locks of hair spread across her pillow, framing her face in a way that's, frankly, angelic. Her skin, softer than any silk you've ever felt before, bare and exposed to the warm air of your room. Her strong, delicate arms, perfectly laid across her stomach. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume she was a portrait come to like, nigh perfect in every aspect.

She's so powerful, even in her sleep she wills you to wait for her, to observe her soft chest rise and fall with every deep, slow breath. She compels you to study the way her elegant lashes rest across her porcelain cheeks. She pulls you in, grips you by the throat and gives you no other option but to focus and obsess.

You try not to breathe too loudly, try not to move too much, try not to disturb her slumber, anything to keep her like this.

Not that she isn't as breathtaking when she's awake, when you see her exercising, sweat dripping down the side of her neck, a glowy sheen coating her every muscle, you have to physically force yourself not to gawk. When she has her hair tied back, absentmindedly watching TV, your head in her lap as she plays with your hair, it's hard not to gaze up at her with sheer admiration and adoration.

And, like last night, when she's laid on her back, her face flushed the most vibrant shade of pink, and her usually collected voice reduced to little more than choked gasps and moans, it's enough to bring tears to your eyes.

But you think this is still your favorite version of her. Your fingers twitch, desperate to reach out and stroke her face, or fix her messy bangs, but you don't have it in you to disturb her in the slightest. You worry you're doing it now, just by staring at her so intently. If she were awake, she'd laugh at you, a soft, airy noise that would make you feel like an idiot in the best way.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see her lashes flutter, her eyes slowly peeking open and getting used to the light pouring in through the window. She moans, warming up her voice before turning to lay on her side to stare right back at you. Neither of you say a word, a warm silence permeating in the air between the two of you.

Eventually, when she notices the awestruck look in your unblinking eyes, she speaks. "Why are you staring at me?" Her question is spoken with a smile on her face. That damn smile that got you here in the first place, that stole your heart the minute she flashed it your way. Taken off guard by her confrontation of your admittedly creepy behavior, you blink for the first time in what must've been at least five minutes.

Your lip trembles, your brain once again melting in your head at her words, as your mouth opens and closes, several answers being born and dying on your tongue. And just as you thought she might, she does indeed laugh, a musical giggle bouncing around between your ears as she reaches out and brushes her thumb across your face.

You finally form a real thought when you feel her soft, albeit slightly chapped, lips press against your nose. "You just . . ." You begin speaking, getting lost in those deep, wise pools of golden, honey brown that make unwavering contact with your own eyes. "You look so . . . pretty like this, Utahime."

It's such a simple sentence, something so soft and innocent whispered to what you think might be the most beautiful woman on the planet. Yet, the minute it leaves your lips something heavy settles in your chest, something thick, something so cold it freezes every drop of blood rushing through your veins, yet so hot it sends a wave of hot, red heat throughout your body.

Her eyes crinkle at your words, her hand moving to fix her wild, messy, gorgeous hair. "Think so?" She says it like she doesn't believe you, like she's used to hearing it, but not used to it being meant. And it shatters your heart like glass. You push yourself up, careful not to move too fast, careful not to startle her, as if she'd see your desperation and immediately leave, tell you to forget anything had ever happened between the two of you.

You hold yourself above her, looking down at her with stars in your eyes, before lowering yourself down just enough to press the gentlest kiss in the world to her pink lips. You hope she can't hear how fast your heart is beating in your chest, can't read your mind and discover just how in love with her you are, as you try to make her see how wonderful she is with every movement of your lips against hers.

You don't even realize how deep the kiss had actually gotten until you pull away, breathing heavily as blood rushes to your face. Your eyes drop to Utahime's face, her eyes as bright as yours usually are in her presence. Suddenly, you lose every bit of confidence, dropping back to lay in bed beside her.

After a few more moments of silently staring at each other, you finally manage to choke out an answer.

"Y-yeah . . . I think so."

#bizbat #jjk #utahime x reader #utahime iori #utahime iori x reader #gn!reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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artist-issues · 2 months

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this my sound silly, but do you have any advice on how you come up with something to say for a story?

I think you're right that good art has something to say and communicates it well. That's certainly true of every story I've ever loved.

But while I love inventing fantasy worlds, you've made me realize I've never actually planned to say anything with them.

I've got lots of opinions, lots of beliefs, lots of stuff to say, but now that I realize I need to, it's been hard to pick one of those to be the core point of a story.

the trouble is, the dominant writing advice I saw online was the opposite. that stories made for the purpose of communicating a message or promoting something just turn into preachy propaganda, so the best way to make a good story (that, dare I invoke the curse, appealed to a wider audience) was to muddy it so you could take away as many interpretations from it as possible. thus most of the material I've given myself to work with has been slightly poisoned.

I really like how you said all of that! I agree with your assessment of the advice most people give.

Here's how I do it:

A loose concept, like a disgraced knight falling in love with the King's head of staff who's come to live in the village he's hiding in, will pop into my brain. I'll like the concept. I'll imagine one or two interactions between them that I just like.

But when it comes time to write anything down, even just for my own notes—then it's time to find a message. And usually that's not hard, or at least, that's not disingenuous, because:

what I believe, my worldview, was already subliminally shaping the things that I liked.

So then as I go to write down the names, the histories, the plot points, of my fun little knight love story idea, I find that something kind of...readily fits them.

But now here's the catch; it really helps to know what you believe, and to feel strongly about it, for all of that to come as naturally as possible.

About Propaganda "versus" Stories:

It's a lie to say that something which is created to say something is always propaganda, and something which is created with no careful point thought out is always art. Silly thing to believe. It's like saying "all words are propaganda." No, all words are communication. It's not our fault they don't like that we know what we want to say, and we want them to understand it clearly.

I mean. All art is propaganda, if by "propaganda" or "preachy" you mean, "I tried to take what was going on in my head & heart and put it in your head & heart." All art, all storytelling, is that. Otherwise you'd just keep what you think and feel bouncing around in your own brain, instead of doing anything outward (writing, drawing, painting, singing, speaking, reacting with your body language) with it.

I think what people are getting at when they say "avoid being preachy" or "that's not art, it's propaganda" is "you weren't being genuine." And that can be true. Sometimes people can tack a meaning onto a movie or a story where it doesn't fit because they either a) don't believe that strongly in the thing themselves, but everyone around them was clamoring for it or b) they were lazy and didn't do the work to make the story fit, genuinely, with the message, in a way that enhances and makes the message winsome.

But as bad as those two mistakes are, neither of them prove that intending to say something with your story, very carefully and genuinely, that you don't want misinterpreted, is somehow a bad thing.

Look at the fairy tales that the Brothers' Grimm collected. Look at any stories from the time before commercialism: Our oldest stories combined genuine enjoyment with the virtues and meanings that made enjoyment possible/worthwhile.

Anyway. I have a feeling you agree with me already about this so I'll hop down off that soap box.

What Comes First: Having Fun Making What You Like, or Choosing Something to Say?

I don't think it is wrong to tell a story that...you didn't have an intended thesis written down for. I think people like J.R.R. Tolkien and Walter Elias Disney prove that. But the thing is, what they believed got infused into their storytelling, because of course it did. It can't help it. When you want the audience to like your lead character, you make her likeable—but the traits you think are likeable are informed by something.

Snow White is innocent and pure because Walt Disney naturally considered those things beautiful and good and worth liking. He probably didn't even think to write it down and revolve everything around it: it just came out that way.

Frodo is a little scholar, and willing to soldier on with what little he can do, despite his lack of experience, because those are character traits Tolkien felt were good and likeable. Why? Because deep down, in his worldview, he believes being book-smart and doing what you can with what you have is valuable. And that just...comes out, much like his valuing of history, in the thing he creates.

Now, if they didn't know what they believed--or if they were insecure people "blown about by every wind of false doctrine" that comes their way--or if they were focused more on satisfying what the largest number of people liked--they wouldn't have been able to infuse the story with any genuine meaning, planned-out or natural.

That's what I think.

I think it's all a matter of loving what's good and true. Training your affections, so that you care most about things that are worth caring about—the things you feel most strongly about in characters will be the things you feel most strongly about in life. I love Stitch because I love redemption. Not primarily because I love sci-fi characters, the color blue, or the blend of ugly-and-cute—even though I do like those things on a more minor scale. See?

But if you've trained your affections for junk food—you feel most strongly appreciative of characters that are hot, or spout off funny one-liners, or come onscreen to cool music—then that's what will naturally come up in your own storytelling.

There's also nothing wrong with doing it the other way; saying you want to teach a certain lesson, and then coming up with characters and settings to fit that lesson. Coming at it from that direction is just as valid—as long as you put in the work, and care more about that lesson you genuinely believe in than you do what other people think.

Anyway,

To Write Your Own Main Point/Thesis/Armature/Theme

When it’s time to start writing anything down, it’s time to figure out the main point, and that’s when I...typically think about what I'd want to teach the kids I'm around, to be honest.

With my disgraced-knight love story, I go "what is it he loves about the girl, in all those vague vibe-y scenes I’ve been picturing?" And I make the connection between her virtuous character traits to what I want him, the main character, to learn.

So for example, she used to live in the palace, working for the King, but she was humble enough to give all that up and live in a no-name town to take care of her stepfather. He's disgraced and doesn't want anyone to know who he is—well, that's a pride issue, totally the opposite of how humble his love interest is. And why’s she humble? Because she’s not focused on herself. She doesn’t care about her own reputation or status. So then I just reverse engineer that: the point of the story is "Live in the King's name, not your own." Now one of the two main characters embodies that—the other has to learn it, and the story is the obstacle course he’s pushed through to get there.

I wasn't consciously thinking about making her the king's former head of staff, or him disgraced, when I first came up with the vague concept of the story, see? I just liked the "vibe" of a hopeless dude suddenly seeing a ray of light in the "vibe" of a girl from poor circumstances who seems happy regardless of them. I liked that "vibe." Then I traced what I liked about the vibe back to something that is true and worth teaching or appreciating in real life.

I’m in a job I don’t love right now, and it could make me miserable, but if I just remember “in everything you do, whether in word or in deed, do for the glory of the Lord,” then my focus isn’t on myself and I have joy and hope. And that hope can be used to point others, around me, to hope, too. So I’m not “preaching” something disingenuous; I’m living it, because this is what I believe, so no wonder it’s also leaking it’s way into my story. I just happen to be creating a pipe so that the leak flows more smoothly, which can only help, in the long run.

But I’ve done it other ways, too. Once I watched kind of from afar as a friend’s family fell apart. I felt like, from the outside, I could see where one of my friends was hurting and what they needed to accept (from the Bible) to move forward, but I wasn’t in a position to say it to my friend directly. Then I figured, “if my one friend is going through this situation, others probably are too, and this lesson from the Bible is universal anyway” so I…made up an analogy for the way their family fell apart, then came up with an ending that taught the “family” in the analogy the lesson I got from the Bible. So for that, you can see how I first came up with the main point, then built up characters and a world and a story to fit around it.

Both ways work, the chicken or the egg first. But they only work if you are committed to working hard and serving others with your story, not committed to being popular or “only making what YOU like.”

Make sense? I hope so! Thank you for the question!

#Asked #answered #storytelling #writing #writing tips #stories #how to write #themes #theming #main point #Walt Disney #j.r.r. tolkien

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someplace-darker · 2 years

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Kinktober Day 3: Glove Kink | Din Djarin

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (no y/n)

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: 18+, PWP, public sex, fingering, glove kink, is finger sucking a warning? it is now, reader is afab but no pronouns are used

Summary: Maybe you should be a little bit more subtle about how much you want Din.

A/N: hi this is the late day 3! I thought i was gonna do 3 and 4 tonight but stuff came up so 4 and 5 should be out tomorrow! Also i think this is the first Din thing i've ever written.

Din knows that your eyes linger on him when he works, whether it’s catching bounties or cleaning his blasters, your gaze tracks him with blatant yearning. He was glad that even if his helmet restricted many things in life, at least his emotions were concealed beneath the impenetrable beskar and cold vocoder. It’s not any different this time. You’re sitting in the back of some outer-rim cantina sitting across from Din as he surveys the room, eyes glued to the way the yellow lights reflect and bounce on every surface of his armor.

Of course Din doesn’t tell you that he can see you, that his head may be turned but he’s noting each clench of your thighs, each pass of your tongue over your lips. It’s amusing to say the least, he finds it almost pathetic how you can’t seem to keep ahold of yourself in his presence. Although you’ve run out of things around you to look at and busy yourself with. You’re skilled in combat and handy with a weapon when needed, but Din does the rest, such as waiting in shadows and silence for the right moment to pounce on a target.

Which is exactly why you’re in the rundown cantina in the first place. A tip had come in from a reliable source that the man whose puck you currently carried in your pocket frequented this place in particular. Obviously not that reliable, seeing as the two of you have been sitting here for hours without a sign of him. The light from the dual suns is dwindling, the orange glow from outside the windows turning to purples and blues. The room is starting to empty itself, everyone collectively deciding to turn in for the night and laying down their credits for the bartender before seeing themselves out.

Except for you and the Mandalorian.

“Are we leaving yet?” you question, acutely aware of how you sound like a petulant child. In reality, you’re just massively turned on and need the (semi)privacy of the razor crest.

“No. This place doesn’t close for another hour, he could still show up,” Din replies, voice hoarse and dipped in molten heat. The same heat that occupies your body as you listen to him speak. You’re not exactly sure when it became this bad, turned into biting your hand as you fucked yourself in his bunk, watching a little closer at how his back twitches under your touch while you stitch a blade wound.

Focusing on how his hands toss assailants around like it’s nothing.

“Okay, can I at least head back to the ship? We’ll meet there,” you try to negotiate as he tilts his head in your direction, something like a sigh leaving him. His fingers tap on the table between you, gloves flexing around his hand as it moves.

He doesn’t answer immediately this time, his fingers stopping the rhythmic movement to instead clench into a fist, your stare still locked on his hands. Hands that you’ve thought about so many times before. Din clearing his throat snaps you out of your trance, looking up to see him leaning back against the booth, legs spread wide.

“Tell me mesh’la,” you’re not exactly sure how, but his voice is lower now “how often do you think about my fingers wrapping around your throat?”

Shock riddles your brain following his bluntly delivered question, the rest of your body shivering at his tone and how it drips with hunger. You glance out of the darkened corner booth you're seated in, the only people remaining are the bartender and passed out straggler on the other side. Slowly, you turn back to him. His visor reveals nothing and you wonder for a second if you imagined him saying it. Still, you lick your lips and murmur a soft “what?”

Din regards you as you squirm in your seat, turning to jerk his head to the left and pat the spot next to him. It feels as if you’re moving through the thickest water in the galaxy when you start to shift and push yourself around to his side, not looking away from him even when your knee bumps into his as you settle. The cool leather of his glove brushes against your cheek, curving down to cradle the line of your jaw. “I want you to tell me how much you think about me when you’re two fingers deep into your own cunt,” he speaks again, this time slower.

He watches the realization dawn over your pretty face, gloved thumb pressing gently against the plush cushions of your lips. “You can hear me?” you whisper, clenching your thighs once more, except this time he’s close enough to feel it. “Usually you think I’m sleeping,” he confirms, watching your spit coat the tip of his thumb when your mouth parts just the slightest.

How long has he known?

Lifting his arm, Din moves it to rest on the back of the booth, turning his body to keep his other hand on your face. Your tongue darts out to brush against the tip of his glove, moaning quietly when he allows you to lower your head and suck on the digit. “Do you want me to make you feel good, honey?” Din sounds like he’s teetering on the edge of restraint, voice more strained than before.

You shouldn’t, you know there’s still people in the building, but all your brain can focus on is the ragged rise and fall of the mandalorian’s chest.

And fuck, you really are tired of not knowing what it’s like.

Pulling your head back and off his finger, you nod frantically “yes, Din, please.” Almost instantly he’s pushing his index and middle fingers past your lips once more, grunting when you circle them with your tongue. Once they’re covered in your spit he pulls them out with a soft pop, dragging them down your cloth covered torso before pushing past the waistband of your trousers and curling them into you. The back of your head blooms with a sharp pain when you throw it back against his beskar covered arm, pleasure quickly covering the pain when he pumps them once, then twice.

Fuck, he didn’t even bother taking the gloves off, yet somehow it makes it better. The mere acknowledgment that he’s finger fucking you with his gloves still on is enough to make your cunt flutter around him. “Come on, I know you’re close. You practically rode the booth for the last few hours,” his voice is strained, a lilting tease playing at the tip of his tongue and it makes you laugh breathily. The laugh quickly morphs into a whine, brows furrowing as you turn your face against his arm, condensation forming on the cold metal.

He curls his fingers inside you repeatedly, adjusting his wrist so his thumb can find your clit and press circles into it. “Feels so good, wanted you for so long, fuck Din,” he hushes you gently, still aware of your location and missing bartender. Hips pressing down into his hand you start a rhythm, rocking into his hand like you’ve been hit with the strongest aphrodisiac in the galaxy.

Din’s silent now, entirely honed in on you now, watching as your back arches and you come with a shuddering cry. He presses the head of his helmet to your temple, slowing the movement of his fingers until you stop shaking. “Good, cyare,” he pulls his hand from your bottoms and taps your cheek, cock throbbing in his pants when your jaw relaxes and allows his fingers in. You pull back and grin, eyes hooded and pupils blown.

“That was much better than anything I thought of,” you say, voice wavering.

Din is about to answer but stops when the hiss of a door sounds out. “What’s wrong?” you whisper, head clearing enough to reach down for your blaster.

“I think we have company.”

#kinktober #my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x y/n #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #din djarin #star wars fic

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exquisiteserotonin · 9 months

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Precious Possessions, Chapter 2

It's Wednesday and Dave's ready to get a little more dirty. So I bring to you Chapter 2 of my Dave York Fic.

Previous | Next

Series Summary: Defense intelligence conferences are always the same informative but also always boring. You didn't expect anything different for this one, but an unexpected meeting with a man named Dave York, changes the trajectory of your conference experience and maybe even more.

Pairing: Dave York X F!Reader

Rating & Warnings: Explicit (18+, MDNI!), Slow burn, sexual tension, dirty, smutty talk, masturbation, finger fucking, public sex (sort of?), Not beta'd --- any weird grammar things and tense shifts are on me.

A/N: Also thank you to my slut collective who always throw out inspiration on the daily. I love you witches. @sparklefarts38 @legendary-pink-dot @best-little-secret @basicoccult

Chapter 2: Starving

The next day of the conference wore on you like a trek through a theme park on a hot summer day. You typically loved conferences, treating them as a mini vacation that happened to include mandatory workshops and trainings. Learning and absorbing brand-new information was inspiring and invigorating. Yet each new presentation you attended that day seemed to grow unbearably long. A nervous energy emanated from your body, manifesting in you through repeatedly crossing and uncrossing your legs, wiggling and bouncing your foot, and tapping your pen repeatedly on your notepad.

A frustrated heat welled up in you as you realized your thoughts were turning to Dave. The space he was taking up in your brain was unexpected. Your watch and the slow hands of the analog clocks found in each meeting room reminded you of how far away you were from 7:30 in the evening.

When lunch time arrived everyone buzzed around you with an excited energy relieved to have a break. You grabbed a plate of salad from the complimentary lunch served to the conference attendees and searched for the quietest corner to enjoy your meal. To your disappointment, your coworker Brad found you. His plate and silverware clanked as he set it down in front of you.

“How has your day been?” he asked, his teeth almost blinding you with how white they were.

“I don’t know,” you answered between bites of your salad. “All the sessions just seem to be running together.”

“It’s only day two and you’re already experiencing conference fatigue?” He joked with little success, eliciting a polite smile from you.

“It must be that time of month,” you shrugged, finishing your salad quickly. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to grab an aspirin from my room.”

Brad raised his hands, backing up slightly in his chair, squirming with discomfort. As you suspected, this made him uncomfortable enough for you to make your exit. The way the temples of your head began to throb revealed that your escape was only a half lie. You excused yourself and darted towards the elevator. Other hotel guests filed in behind you, checking in with their heavy, space-taking luggage. You backed yourself into a corner and closed your eyes, placing your fingers lightly at your temples. You shifted sideways as more people flooded in, leaving little room between yourself and the next person.

“You OK, firefly?” The gravelly whisper of a familiar voice reached your ears.

You looked up to see Dave standing before you, dangerously close.

“Dave, hey,” you greeted, relieved to see him. “It’s just a headache.”

“You know, I have something for that,” he said and you felt him shift his weight until you felt his hip press against yours.

The throbbing of your headache dulled and you fought with yourself to hide the moan you so desperately wanted to release from your mouth. A tingling sensation tip-toed down your shoulders, stomach, and irresistibly, inconveniently down to your core. As you held each other’s gaze, you felt his smug smile drawing you in and tempting you.

“You know what?” The satisfaction you got from challenging him was unmatched and you smiled back. “I think I can take care of it for the time being.”

Feeling brazen and empowered, you brushed your fingertips along the side of his left pant leg, until your hand began to take hold of his hip. He knitted his brows down to glare at you, his hand meeting yours quickly to grip your wrist with one of his large, weathered hands. The way he stared you down, gripped your wrist, and shook his head indicating no without a word electrified you even more. It shot through your body from the tips of his fingers, its electricity awakening every cell in you and your heart thumping loudly in your ears.

The elevator rocked back and forth as it moved upwards. Engrossed in each other, you barely noticed or acknowledged as the other guests left the elevator. You backed away from him a few steps, his fingers rippling open to release you from his grip. In only a matter of seconds, you knew you’d be arriving on your floor.

“We’re still having that meeting at 7:30, correct?” He asked as he cleared his throat and as he pressed his hands to his hips.

“Still on,” you confirmed as you felt the warmth of his body heat overtake you as he stepped closer behind you.

“Then you should save your energy,” Dave said, leaning his head close to yours, his breath caressing your ear.

His hand gently brushed the back of your skirt, the back of his fingers just brushing your ass. The faintness of his touch was enough to leave you nearly breathless and yearning for more of it, so much that you hitched your breath with a quick gasp.

“Noted,” you breathed, looking up at him with a nod of your head before you stepped away.

Despite the slight dulling of your headache, you still gulped an aspirin upon returning to your hotel room. You lowered yourself to the fluffy sheets of your hotel room bed. Noting the time on the clock: 12:35 pm. It reminded you how quickly you had gulfed down your lunch just to get away from Brad. You closed your eyes, promising yourself it would only be for a moment. The ghost of Dave’s soft whisper against your ear haunting you. The power of your mind helped you to imagine his whisper as fingers traveling down your blouse to your skirt. An achy longing began to beat at your core as you thought of him. You began to slide your hand down the length of your skirt and gathered it in your hand, pulling it upwards. You drew your fingers up your thighs, walking them closer and closer to your underwear. All the while, you imagined his hand, his weathered fingers as your breath quickened. You pushed your panties to the side, sliding your fingers to your clit, feeling how your folds were coated with your slick because of him. Because of Dave.

You squeezed your eyes shut, keeping the image of him in your brain. The memory of how his massive hand gripped your wrist, his fingers large and commanding. You let yourself imagine his hands touching you, dipping inside you, fucking you, and savoring the taste of you on his fingers while he chanted your name as he worked on you, beckoning you to come. Your orgasm crashed over your body, setting you on fire and wrapping you in warmth. You stared at the ceiling of your hotel room, letting your breath come down to a natural pace as you relaxed from your wave of pleasure.

You stood up, pushing down your skirt. You met your reflection in the large, gold framed mirror. Your hair was disheveled and a rosy glow painted your cheeks. You gave yourself a quiet laugh, thinking wistfully of the solo activity Dave York had just inspired. Your fingers caressed the soft, silky fabric of your skirt to smooth the wrinkles as best you could. You took one last glance at your watch, realizing you had just enough time to make it downstairs for the rest of the day's presentations. You left your room letting the door close gently behind you, hoping the pace of the afternoon moved faster than the morning. Begrudgingly, you knew the specter of Dave’s touch and breathy whisper would haunt you for the remainder of the day.

✦✦✦

Somehow, you managed to survive the day without driving yourself crazy about what awaited you at 7:30 pm. Every inclination you had was to wear the sexiest outfit you owned, but that was impossible since it was hanging in your closet at home. The only option you had was a tawny colored, form fitting sweater dress you packed. You pulled it on over your head, shimmying the fabric down your body. Its luxurious fabric hugged your curves perfectly and despite it having long sleeves it clung to your cleavage, enhancing it in the most enticing way.

You looked at yourself in the full-length mirror, satisfied and confident in your look. Your long waves fell like a waterfall down your back, your shortest waves kissing your clavicle. Your make-up was simple and served to enhance your favorite features. You stepped into a pair of cream colored booties with a little bit of a heel, knowing it would bring attention to the little peek of leg that would reveal itself through the knee slit on the right side of your dress. You bit your lip, your reflection staring back at you with a mischievous understanding of why you brought this outfit to a professional conference.

This is the kind of outfit that would get you fucked.

You carried that thought with you from your room to the elevator, and downstairs towards the bar. Head turns that turned into intense gazes in your direction gifted you with even more poise and tenacity as each step you took brought you closer and closer to the bar. Your eyes skimmed the bar, searching for Dave. Taking a seat at the bar, a little fleck of disappointment turned in you when you were unable to find him.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked.

“Scotch please,” you replied, “on the rocks.”

The bartender nodded and walked away to get a few more orders before bringing you your own. A sudden burst of self-consciousness washed over you as you waited for your drink. Upon the bartender’s return, he handed you your drink along with a knowing wink and a small slip of paper. The edges were clean and folded sharply, evidence of the meticulousness of the messenger. You laughed at yourself as you opened it wondering why you hadn’t exchanged numbers with Dave. Your professional mind took over and deduced that he simply didn’t want to be tracked. You talked yourself into thinking that this made sense for someone in the intelligence field. You took a long, large sip of courage from your glass before opening the note. Small, slanted print greeted you as you did:

I’m at the far corner to the right of the bar.

You found him with your whole body, your eyes settling over him in the dark, isolated corner. Your eyes poured over every feature of him from his clean shaven face, to his Romanesque nose, to his intensely dark brown eyes which were staring right back at you. You walked towards him, unhurried, carrying your scotch in one hand and your handbag in the other. You approached the quiet and secluded booth for two. He never lost eye contact as he stood up to greet you, taking your scotch from your hand, sipping the remainder of it, before setting it down on the table. The coldest of shivers traveled through your body as he pulled you towards him with a gentle beckoning of his hand on your elbow. The shivers left you frozen as he brought his face close to yours, kissing you lightly on the cheek until you felt his lips brush against your ear.

“Look at you,” he growled as you closed your eyes, feeling his hand roam to your right hip, where his fingers traced the curve of it with the lightest of touches, “getting pretty just for me.”

You parted your peachy-pink lips to respond, but for the first time in your interactions with him you found yourself speechless. The feeling was so novel as though you were being hypnotized to succumb to his words and motions.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he stated, drawing you in with his wickedly attractive grin that had imprinted itself in your brain. “There’s a place I’m going to take you, somewhere more private.”

Dave was the kind of man people would warn you about. Your closest friends would tell you that he was a walking red flag if they knew. Any level-headed woman would and should know better. And then you thought to yourself:

Maybe I just don’t care.

You trembled with a charged excitement moving through you and arousing every cell in your body. It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a demand. It was a simple and true statement. Both of you knew it. You would do anything he asked.

“Ok,” you confirmed your gaze connecting indelibly to his, “take me.”

A rush of cold air bombarded you as you stepped out of the hotel. You cursed yourself, wondering why you hadn’t grabbed a coat from your room. Dave perused you up and down, admiring your figure before he took off his own thick coat and draped it around your shoulders. The unexpected, but calculated gesture made you shiver more at his touch than from the cold. After this he moved past you toward a black sedan, opening the door for you.

Your dress stretched against your legs, giving Dave the perfect view of your right leg from the slit on the side of your dress. He followed you, joining you in the warmth of the car. Not a second had passed since you buckled yourself in and you immediately felt his immense hand slide onto your knee with a tight grip. With no knowledge of how long it would take to arrive wherever Dave was taking you, you placed your hand on top of his and began to slide his hand further up your leg.

“You dirty, little slut,” he whispered to you with a growl, “are you gonna show me how wet you already are for me?”

“Dave,” you panted into his ear as you felt his fingers massage up your thigh, “the driver…”

From the side of your eye, you swore you could see the driver smirk when you whispered Dave’s name. Your breaths continued to quicken as his hand continued to rub up your thigh.

“Don’t worry I pay him for discretion,” he uttered, and you could have moaned at the thought that this was all a well-executed plan. “Just give daddy one little taste.”

You squeezed your thighs together before opening them again. His thick fingers rested on the lush skin of your inner thighs. His half-closed, ravenous eyes asked you again.

Just one taste.

And so, you opened for him feeling his fingers brush against the silky fabric of your underwear. You kept your eyes on him as his fingers met where the fabric had become dewy with your desire. You rolled your pelvis forward, eager, and desperate for him to do something. He raised one coy brow at you, caressing you and making the spot grow with your heat. That dangerous dimple revealed itself as he tempted you with a wanton grin. You needed more. You needed him to give you more. As soon as you moved your hand to grip his forearm, the car came to a quiet stop. You shuddered as he took his hand away from your thigh. You followed his every move as he brought his fingers to his lips, licking his fingertips. A little taste of you.

“You taste sweet,” Dave growled, the vibrato making you quiver all the way down to your toes, “can’t wait to taste all of you.”

Dave opened the door and reached his hand in to help you out. Once you were out of the car you used one hand to smooth out the bottom of your dress and the other to grip Dave’s jacket around your shoulders. The strong grip of his hands on your hips as he rocked his pelvis into your ass was so surprising that it made you gasp louder than the cold air meeting your bare skin.

“Fuck, Dave,” you whispered, “are you trying to kill me?”

“Hm,” he paused in contemplation, “not if I don’t have to.”

The two of you stood before a quaint little whiskey bar repurposed from an old Craftsman home. Globe lights danced on strings in the December air as you walked up the brick stairs. Inside, perfectly placed lights of amber and gold set the room aglow with warm luminescence and shadows. He had made a reservation. You shivered as he took his coat from your shoulders handing it to the hostess. How was he able to have this so elaborately planned? The feeling settled in your abdomen simultaneously vexing and intriguing.

You followed the hostess to a quiet u-shaped booth situated at the back of the bar. Atop a round table made from knotted driftwood, stood a table sign with the word “reserved” written in modern calligraphy. You had barely taken your seat when a server came to your table with a bottle of Macallan rare cask and two empty whiskey glasses.

“Wow, pulling out all the stops,” you said, mesmerized by the expensive whiskey selection that was poured into your glass right before your eyes. “You do this before you bed all your conquests?”

He grasped his chest with a feigned expression of heartbreak, “Oh if that’s all you were, I wouldn’t have wasted my time bringing you here knowing I could’ve had you begging me to come to your room the afternoon we met.”

“And if I had wanted you there that night,” you stalled, gently biting your glossy lips, “we wouldn’t have left my room at all today.”

“And that, firefly,” he said with a tip of his glass towards yours, “is exactly why you’re more than just a conquest.”

It felt like a date but you didn’t want it to. The mess of feelings running inside you could have been easily curbed if you had just fucked him. You’d done it before, you could do it again. Fuck and forget.

“How did you get into intelligence, anyway?” He asked, relinquishing a deep sigh from you. “Because and, forgive me, you don’t seem the type.”

“Meaning?” You furrowed your brow at the statement.

“Well, you’re hot for one thing,” he stated, provoking a laugh, “but you don’t bullshit; you’re sharp, calculating, even.”

You took a sip to ponder your response to his question.

“Well I was always good at everything computers,” you explained, “building them, taking them apart, and figuring out how they worked.”

It felt so easy to be telling him your story. His eyes were rapt with attention

“In high school I got good at hacking,” this reveal had him move in closer to you, “even better at getting away with it.”

It felt like you were being asked to access a file that was stored away in your backup hard drives. You never expected anyone to want to hear about your angsty, adolescent techno rebellion.

“You know, it started small at first: messing with the school online newsletter, changing my friends’ grades,” you smiled as the sweet nostalgia took over you. “My best work though was getting a pervy teacher fired who’d made rapey comments to me and my friends.”

“A vindictive streak,” he said admiringly as his hand took purchase on your knee.

A jolt of excitement shot through you as he said those words, in the way he said them. Did he get off on that? Revenge. It wasn’t the best of your personality traits.

A slow sip of the Macallan.

“Karma’s a bitch,” you said dryly with a shrug.

An impressed grin.

“My parents said I needed to channel my talent into something productive and lucrative,” you shrugged, “so here I am.”

“Here you are,” he was so close you could feel his breath on your lips as he spoke.

It took only one look of his pouted lips for you to dive forward to kiss him. His tongue pushing your mouth open while his right hand pushed your hair back from your face. You gripped that hand leading it to the base of your neck. You pressed your hand on top of his, desperate to feel his strength imprint itself on you. The needy groan that escaped him as you did had you snickering with consuming gratification. Falling into each other with breathless desire, you let his mouth go but not before pulling his bottom lip with an eager bite.

“Bad girl,” he groaned, as he tugged you almost impossibly close to him, the heat that rose from both of you intertwining. “You get off on it don’t you? On not getting caught?”

Your heart hammered loudly in your ears as Dave’s hand glided up the slit of your dress. His fingers made quick work of finding the spot he had made wet in the car. Your cunt ached and drummed with anticipation for his touch. You swallowed a deep breath when you felt his thick fingers sweep over the fabric, teasing you as he used his finger tips to play at the edges. You nodded at him, with pleading eyes.

“Let’s see how much you get off on it,” he growled his head pressed to yours as he slipped his fingers under the velvety soft fabric of your underwear.

Your thoughts began to swirl in the rich amber of whiskey in your glass as his fingers rubbed at your entrance. You rolled your neck with a deep exhale before placing a secure hold on your glass with your left hand. The wave of exquisite sensation washed over you as you felt his finger glide inside you, finding your clit in a matter of seconds. You brought your glass to your lips, taking in a long sip of whiskey to obscure the moan that threatened to escape from your mouth. The slow burn of the whiskey paired with the sinuous ecstasy that formed from his was almost too much to bear. You could do nothing but roll your hips forward begging for more of his fingers with your body.

“Firefly, you dirty, fucking slut,” he whispered to you through gritted teeth, “you fucking love this, don’t you?”

Your hands gripped at the fabric of the bench beneath you, your brain barely registering what he had just said. All you could concentrate on was your desperate attempt to slow your ever-quickening breaths.

“Answer me,” he demanded in the quietest whisper while tortuously denying you the attention his fingers were giving your clit.

“Yes--I, I love it,” you whimpered

Your body ignited with a luxurious heat at each touch of his fingers at your core. You felt yourself surrendering to him as he continued the deep ministrations within your body, worshiping your clit.

“You fucking love that you’re about to come right here in public,” he growled his nose pressed to the side of your face, his lips brushing against your earlobe. “I was a fucking stranger to you yesterday and now you love how I already know how to make you come undone. You’ve never felt this good before have you?”

Jesus, fuck. You thought to yourself as you nodded. True. It was all true.

He rocked his pelvis towards you, his fingers moving relentlessly. “Fucking answer me, firefly.”

“I’ve never felt this good, Dave,” you wanted to cry.

“Good,” he said, his voice gravelly and low, “you wanna come now, baby?”

“Please.”

With another sinful grin, he crooked his fingers inside you, bracing you with the weight of his body. And you came undone, your entire body trembling and the quietest moan escaping your lips as you clenched around his fingers. You reached out for your glass to drink the last bit of whiskey. You breathed out a long, slow exhale feeling the burn and bliss of the whiskey and your orgasm.

“You’re so fucking good for me,” he groaned as he released his fingers from your center.

A gasp vibrated out of your throat, and you relaxed back into him. Everything around you looked hazy with delight, like a dream sequence in a film. You watched as Dave licked his fingers, savoring the taste of you that left its mark there. You felt your pussy clench again at the eroticism of the moment, of how good he must be with his mouth and tongue, and how big his cock must be. You tip-toed your fingers to his pants, cupping his bulge, feeling it grow in the palm of your hand.

“It’s time we get out of here, firefly,” he spoke with the stoic conviction of a man ready to complete the most important mission he’s ever been given.

“What are you going to do with me?” You leaned to him, whispering your delicately chosen words into his ear.

He turned to you, his stare low and focused with lust, “I’m going to make you mine, possess this cunt in ways you’ve only dreamed of.”

You smiled with satisfaction as though you’d been waiting a lifetime for someone to growl those words at you. He stood up and your gaze poured over his entire body as he pulled out his wallet, leaving a wad of bills on the table that you assumed as far more than the cost of whiskey. He held out a hand to you and you laughed like it was a joke, knowing well you didn’t need or want the feigned gentlemanly gesture. You gathered his jacket around your shoulders again to protect yourself from the biting air. He slipped one possessive hand beneath the bottom of his jacket to grip your ass and then your waist, holding you close to him the entire, short ride back to the hotel.

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