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handflexlibrary · 9 days ago

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For the Plot

Summary: Things aren't looking too good for you, sitting alone at the Hard Deck waiting for a man who might not show. Until Bradley Bradshaw sits down across from you and turns your entire night upside down.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Length: 7.7k

Warnings: fluff, so much flirting, and an italicized oh

Going on a first date on Valentine’s Day is unarguably the worst possible idea that anyone has ever had.And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place.

The guy you were planning to meet tonight was cute enough, even if you were still undecided about the mustache. And while the chats between the two of you had been pretty good as far as it goes getting to know a literal stranger, you were hopeful that it could be even better in person. The fact he was in the Navy was still a bit of a consideration for you, but not a deal breaker.

In retrospect, the name of the bar should have been your first clue and the location paired with the causal beachy exterior covered in planes should have been the second.

You had been expecting to see more than one girl all done up in pinks and reds tonight, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. And you swear to god, somewhere you hear a record scratch as you step into the Hard Deck, because you are surrounded by nothing but a sea of olive green and khaki and denim.

And you have never been so clearly out of place in your entire life.

There was nothing about your ensemble that was even remotely fitting for the literal Navy bar you’d found yourself in.

The ice pink mini slip dress you’d dug out of your closet was admittedly a little much for a first date, but since it was Valentine’s Day you figured why not lean into it a bit. And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Or so you’d thought at the time, because now it was a decidedly you problem.

The silhouette was simple enough, with the gentle drape of the cowl neck and the barely-there spaghetti straps, but the shiny sheen of the fabric made a statement of its own. It wasn’t something you got to wear very often for as much as you loved it.

But then you’d gone ahead and paired it with the tallest, most ostentation heels you had. The effort had been worth it though because the pearl encrusted block heels made your legs look like they went on for days. Even if it had been a feat trying to get the dainty buckle done with the way you’d been rushing out of the house with your beaded bag in tow.

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. And even though there were civilians- like yourself- scattered about the bar, none were anywhere near as dressed up as you.

There are more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you stand there with your feet glued to the uneven wooden floors, as the door with its porthole-shaped window slowly closes behind you with a squeaky creak. The twinkle lights above your head felt more like a spotlight, illuminating how out of place you are in this moment.

Your hand is still clutched on the handle unsure whether you’re going to make a run for it or not. You are more than a little tempted to hightail it back to the parking lot and text your date to claim a bout of food poisoning from the safety of the driver’s seat in your car.

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, trying not to panic. Officially a victim of your own bad decision making.

You take a quick scan of the room, trying to decide what your next move should be. There’s a woman behind the bar with kind but clearly inquisitive eyes. A blonde with a wolfish smile eyes you from where he stands next to a man with broad shoulders bent over what must be the pool table, hidden behind the paneled half wall. By a dart board, there are a couple men with their heads turned towards you, the game seemingly forgotten as they discuss the spectacle that is you.

There are hundreds of planes dangling over the bar, patches and plaques littering the walls and rafters, rounders suspended from the ceiling laden with too many ceramic mugs to count. It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances.

When you spot an open table tucked away in the corner of the room it feels like life raft to the iceberg of a situation you’ve put yourself in. Mindful of the scuffed, uneven floors- because the last thing you need is to eat shit or twist an ankle in front of room full of curious onlookers- you hustle over to the spot in hopes of having a moment to regroup.

Once you’re situated- shrugging off the ivory cardigan you’d topped your outfit, trying to keep the nervous sweat that wanted to break out over your body at bay- you pull out your phone and check the time only to realize you’re devastatingly on time. Five minutes early, to be specific.

So you wait.

And check your phone again and the notifications in the dating app, just in case you missed something.

And wait.

You try to play it cool, skimming posts on Instagram and replying to some overdue texts. Finding anything you can to keep yourself occupied to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach the longer you sit there. Alone.

Now you’re not just simply embarrassed, you’re mortified.

You can still feel the eyes, the energy steadily shifting from curiosity to sympathy over the last thirty minutes you’ve been waiting all alone in the corner of a Navy bar you had no business being in for a man who clearly wasn’t going to show.

So much for doing it for the plot, you think to yourself with a shake of your head.

Another minute ticks by with no message and you decide you’re more than ready to hightail it out of there. Fully aware that you’re about to become a topic of conversation that won’t have to be restricted to only covert glances and muffled whispers. But hopefully, they’ll at least wait until the door closes behind you before the chatter starts up for real.

With a sigh, you reach for your beaded bag, just as a large body slips into the chair across from you, with an ease that is in contrast to the bulk of muscles you catch in your peripheral vision.

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

It’s the smile that you catch first. Not quite a grin, but something familiar and friendly and charming in the way it crookedly pulled to the left. Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. But what surprised you the most was the way he was sitting in the stool across from you just as comfortably as if he was supposed to be there all along.

There was no way you could have prepared yourself for the sheer level of attractiveness of this man.

He was in a league of his own with those curls and wide shoulders. The white and olive green stripped crochet shirt he was wearing didn’t hurt either, especially the way the top buttons were undone giving you glimpse of a chain around his neck and the chest underneath it. He didn’t need to be in uniform- or even in a Navy bar- for you to tell he was a military man. Not with the confident way he held himself.

Even if the mustache he was sporting made it feel like the universe was playing tricks on you, but he more than wore it well.

You huff out a self-deprecating laugh. “What gave it away?” you ask. “The way I’ve been watching the door? Or just the general look of regret and embarrassment?”

“Embarrassed? What do you have to be embarrassed about?” His eyebrows pull together, perplexed. He shakes his head like he disagrees with even the suggestion of it. “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is the guy who is missing out on sitting across from you right now.”

You give him a soft smile of your own in return for the cinnamon sweet words. There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release.

“That’s kind of you, but I think I’m going to head out,” you say, nodding to the door you never should have stepped through in the first place.

He gives you a teasing tsk. “And let a dress like that go to waste? Now that would be a shame.”

The appreciative look in his gaze that sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. And then his eyebrow ticks up, just a little. Part invitation, part dare. And you can’t say you’re not intrigued.

There’s a decision to make.

You could leave now and cut your losses. There was a reason you had a back-up pizza in the fridge and had left you well-loved copy of You’ve Got Mail sitting out on your coffee table.

Or you could stick around and see what happens next.

You tilt your head at him, just as teasing. “Would it now?”

“It would,” he states, sincerely.

Before you can reply, your phone lights up with a new notification, pulling you out of the whisky haze you’d found yourself in.

His eyes dip down to your illuminated screen. “Is that him?”

“It is,” you confirm, almost regretfully. You open the app and skim the message. And then read it again.

There’s no sorry, no apology for cancelling a half an hour after the time for the date that had been his idea in the first place. And then he’d even had the audacity to tack on a cavalier maybe another time at the end.

Unbelievable.

He lets out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

“Apparently, I should have been the one to remind him that the fourteenth of February is a calendar holiday and a fan favorite day of the greeting card companies.” It’s so ridiculous you’d laugh if you weren’t so annoyed by the lack of consideration and the not-so-subtle blame he’d tried to shift on you. “Even though I did double check if he was sure about meeting up today, I guess I didn’t realize I actually needed to spell out ‘Valentine’s Day’ for him.”

The man across from you doesn’t bother holding back the less than impressed look on his face. And you decide you like that about him, that he wears his thoughts so openly. It’s refreshing.

“Do you mind if I take a look at his profile?”

You shrug and pass your phone over. You were planning on blocking West the second you had a moment anyways. You see him roll his eyes and guess it has something to do with the amount of shirtless gym selfies.

He snorts as he scrolls, “Please, his mustache has nothing on mine.”

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes good-naturedly, as he hands you back your phone. “But am I at least a close second?” There’s no mistaking the flirtatious tone in his voice.

You hum and take full advantage of the opportunity to look at him unabashedly, mapping the contours of his face because you can.

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement.

The way the golden light of the sunset is hitting him you catch some sunkissed strands in those soft looking waves of his hair. There’s the beginning of some crinkles around the edges of his eyes. You notice the scars on his face, some that look long healed and others that are still a light pink- like the one on the side of his neck and beneath is ear. And that mustache on him worked for you, one hundred percent.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he lets you assess him that leaves no question as to whether or not he’s been flirting with you. You like the way he’s looking at you and the way he’s easily made you forget about being overdressed and how uncomfortable you were even just five minutes ago. You’re having fun. And while you still haven’t answered his question from earlier, you have no doubt that he’d show you a good time if you let him.

“Maybe not a close second, but yours is certainly up there,” you tease.

He grins. “I can work with that.” There’s something about the way he adds on for now that has a spark dancing up along your spine. And then he sticks out his hand, “I’m Bradley.”

It’s a good name. It suits him. It’s one you think you’ll enjoy the way your tongue will curl around the letters of it in your mouth.

When you give him yours in return, he sits up straighter in his seat, like he’s won a small victory.

You don’t doubt that he’s the chivalrous type, the fact that he’s gone out of his way to come over to try and turn this evening around for you says more about him than any dating profile with nonsense questions and overthought answers ever could. But with a man like him, one who’d swoop in to save the night of a stranger because she looks like a damsel in distress, there’s an answer to a question you need to hear first.

“Bradley, this isn’t a pity thing, is it?” You were right, you like the way saying his name feels. You drop your hands into your lap, as you search his eyes. “Because if it is, that’ll make me feel worse than being stood up did.”

The way the words were sitting out and open on the table between the two of you made you feel vulnerable in a way you didn’t like. But you’d rather know now before anything goes further. Doing it for the plot or not, your ego could only take so much bruising in one evening.

He pins you with a look so serious that you feel it down to your toes. “Trust me, this is furthest thing from a ‘pity thing’, as you put it,” Bradley says, his tone slipping down a few gravelly notes. “Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.”

Oh.

A thrilling rush of warmth courses through you as your cheeks heat up.

You nod, trying to not look as affected as you feel. “Ok, I believe you.”

“Good,” he smirks, his gaze dropping down and lingering on your lips. You didn’t realize you’d trapped your lower lip between your teeth, you release it immediately. “Because you should know, I would have come over sooner- the second I saw you, actually- if I’d known. That’s some dress, sweetheart,” Bradley continues, “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.”

You couldn’t help but be curious, so you lean in closer. “Oh, how so?”

Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret.

For the first time all night, you don’t regret wearing the dress. You don’t regret the ostentatious shoes or the glimmering beaded bag. You don’t regret walking through that creaky door. You don’t regret showing up tonight.

How could you when you’ve just been served the best plot twist you’ve possibly ever experienced? A meetcute you never could have seen coming.

You realize just how close your faces have gotten and lean back in your seat, from fear of thinking you might do something stupid, like kiss him. “Will you stop with the big cow eyes, if I agree?”

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.”

You press your lips together trying to hide your smile, all too thoroughly charmed, but the corners of your mouth curl up all the same.

“Trust me, you have plenty.”

And Bradley’s own smile gets even wider.

Anyone in the bar can see how pleased with himself he is at your words. It rolls off of him in steady waves and swirls around your shins and ankles.

He makes a show of settling further into his seat, now that it is officially his seat. “What’re we thinking? One milkshake, two straws?”

You play along and pretend to ponder the offer for a moment. “That seems more like a second date type of activity, does it not?”

“You’re right, something to look forward to for next time,” he responds, not missing a beat. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

There wasn’t a menu or anything on the table when you sat down, so you aren’t sure what all is offered here. You thought you might have caught a glimpse of a laminated stack near register when you’d first walked in, but you hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to yourself at the time by getting up again and wandering around and reminding people just how out of place you’d been.

You look around and see a mix of ceramic steins, pint glasses, beer bottles, and a few stems of wine on tabletops and in the hands of the other patrons.

The noise of the bar had become a faint white noise in your ears as the two of you talked, but it comes back in full force now.

“If they have rosé, I’d take a glass of that.” It isn’t hard to miss the hesitation in your voice, feeling a little silly defaulting to your usual go-to. You don’t imagine they go through a ton of pink wine here. “But, uhm, anything on tap would be fine too, if they don’t.”

Bradley’s lips twitch up. Not in a smirk, but something caught between amused and something else you can’t quite describe.

You try not to fidget under his warm gaze, “What?”

He slides out of his stool and rounds the table, setting a big hand on the armrest near your elbow, “There’s something you should know about me, sweetheart.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, more than a little breathlessly. Feeling a little high off of the smell of his leather and vanilla cologne, and something underneath that that reminds you of kerosene in a way that makes you want to breathe him in even more.

Bradley dips down close, his lips just a whisper from your ear, and murmurs, “Pink is my favorite color.”

Your head tips back on its own as you laugh. Its unabashedly loud and bright and delighted thing that fills the nooks and crannies of the corner you’d tucked yourself away into. And if a few heads turn your way because of it, that’s alright with you.

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. The back and forth, the flirting, the banter, the teasing. He’s so quickly turned this night around for you, you already know your cheeks are going to hurt by the end of it.

The sound of Bradley’s own laughter chases after yours. It’s warm and raspy and boyish, and you like the sound of it. You like him.

“One rosé, coming up,” he says, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he steps out of your space. “There’s nothing I like more than a girl who commits to a theme.”

You catch his wrist, his skin warm under your palm. “Wait, what’s it really?”

“Red,” Bradley says, then gives you a slow once over, making your pulse spark in your veins. “But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar.

You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans he’s wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.

When he comes back, only a few minutes later, he has glass of familiar pink wine in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. And oddly enough, a straw tucked into the pocket on his shirt.

“It’s almost a perfect match,” he notes, when he sets it in front of you.

“At least I won’t have to worry about staining if I end up spilling on myself.”

Bradley chuckles and moves his stool in closer to yours, sitting back down with more smooth grace than a man with his build has any right to move. He tips the neck of his beer towards you, and you lightly tap your wine glass against it.

You take a sweet sip. “So.”

“So,” he repeats, with a teasing lift of his eyebrow.

“What’s your move?” you ask, running a glossy tipped finger around the rim of your wineglass.

“My move?” And there’s that grin again, one he doesn’t try to hide as he takes a sip of his own. “‘m pretty sure I’ve been showing you my moves since I sat down. I’ve never been good at being subtle.”

Bradley pulls the straw from his pocket and taps it a few times against the shellacked woodgrain table top. He takes the flimsy wrapper carefully starts twisting it, a little furrow of concentration forms between his brows, spiraling it until it’s pulled taut against itself.

You set an elbow on the edge, resting your chin on your hand as you study him. “But what’s the big move? I know you have one,” you press further.

His hands are big, calloused and rough, but capable. You want to know the story behind the scar that’s near the base of his thumb. You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left, and you pocket that new discovery for yourself the way a kid enthusiastically collects rocks in a park.

Bradley takes that piece of paper and folds it in half before twisting it again.

You watch in fascination as that pleased grin transforms into a confident smirk, like he’s enjoying even just the thought of showing you his big move. He looks like good trouble.

Bradley’s eyes slowly lift to yours, his hands pausing whatever he’s doing with that wrapper. He shoots a thumb to the left towards the end of the oval shaped bar. “You see that piano over there?”

“Mhm.” It’s an almost purr.

“That’s my big move.”

You feel your eyebrows lift in surprise. Bradley gave off such hometown golden boy vibes, you’d never have expected that he’d be the musical type too. The idea of seeing those hands fly over a set of black and white piano keys made your stomach tighten deliciously in anticipation.

“Am I going to get to see it?”

His gaze is steady on you when he replies, “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll show you my move.”

A grin stretches across your face and you feel downright giddy, as you wiggle your shoulders in triumph.

Bradley shakes his head amused, and then refocuses his efforts on the task he’d started with the straw wrapper. He struggles only for a moment- those large fingers getting in the way- as he tries to open the end just enough to slip the tail though. He gives it one more final twist, securing the loop, before inspecting his handiwork.

“Now, since we’re valentines and all, it seemed only fitting that I get you- well, make you- a little something.” Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.”

The words escape you for a moment at the sheer sweetness of the gesture.

Gently, you take it from his outstretched hand, and slip it onto the pointer finger of your right hand, adjusting it with care until you have it situated just right.

“I usually wouldn’t be able to accept something so grand on a first date. But for you, I’ll make an exception,” you say, liltingly. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You look down to appreciate it again, more than a little tempted to take it off and tuck it securely into your purse for safekeeping. For as much as you liked your dress and bag and your shoes, that little paper ring was now your favorite piece of the outfit you were wearing.

When you glance back up at him, his cheeks have the faintest pink hue to them. The little nonchalant shrug he tries to give you does nothing to hide how pleased he looks. “I make a mean daisy chain too. We might have to wait a couple months for Spring, but I’m good for it.”

Your mind flashes with an image of you and him in a park with a picnic basket sat between the two of you, and those large hands of his threading celery green stems together. It’s a pretty picture.

“Well, aren’t you just a regular modern day Renaissance man.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he rasps, silky smooth. It makes goosebumps raise along your arms. “Now, I’ve told you mine. Can’t say I’m not dying to know what your big move is. Am I going to get to see it, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you muse, lifting your glass to take another sip, “If you’re good.”

Bradley hooks a foot under you stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. “Just out of curiosity, what’s your position on kissing on a first date?”

You bend forward towards him and think you hear his breath hitch, you smile. “I’ll keep you posted.”

You’re still looking at his lips when a shout from across the bar startles you both.

“Bradshaw!”

Bradley mutters a string of curses and then blows out a breath, giving you a smoldering look that tells you that the conversation is far from over. You’re more than willing to let him try and change your mind about where he lands in the mustache rankings.

You look over your shoulder to see the with the sharp smile from earlier waving your date over to the pool table. “I take it you know, Malibu Ken?”

“Unfortunately.” A mischievous look coasts over his face. “But I’ll get you all the Ring Pops you could ever want if you say that to his face.”

You laugh. “I’m holding out for that daisy chain.”

Another holler rings out from across the room, the same Southern drawl as before.

“Seems like he wants your attention. Is he a Leo?”

He snorts. “You know what, he just might be. But more like he’s been waiting for the right moment to annoy me since I ditched him to come talk to a pretty girl instead.”

You try not to preen at the compliment.

“The relentless type, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. There’s a story there and you want to know more. “I know I still owe you the big move, but is it alright if I try to show off a little for you now? Just to get off my back for the rest of the night, then I’m all yours.”

You feel like you’ve just pulled an ace from your pocket.

“What are the stakes?” you ask, intrigued.

“Two hundred dollars and a whiskey,” Bradley replies.

You let out a low whistle, trying to school the catlike grin that wants to overtake your face. “That’s a lot of Ring Pops.”

The corners of his mouth curl up. “I was thinking dinner for our third date,” he says. “I’m buying for our second, of course. But it’s only right that we split the spoils of war.”

The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. You playfully pat his shoulder in faux commiseration.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, but you already know your answer. “Okay,” you agree, “Just as long as you’re okay with a little respectful ogling. You like my dress, and I like those jeans you’re wearing.”

He laughs, it’s a throaty rich sound. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

You gather for you purse and sweater as Bradley stands. His hands come to your waist, helping you off the chair, your bodies closer than close. It’s a forward move- he knows it, you know it- but with him, you don’t mind at all.

Bradley offers you his hand and you take it in yours; his fingers slip between yours easily like the two of you have already done this before.

The two of you only make it a few steps before you tug on his hand, waiting until he looks at you from over his shoulder before asking, with a lifted brow, “Bradley Bradshaw?”

He huffs out a not-so-exasperated sigh, “I blame it on the 80’s.”

“Whatever you say, Brad-Brad.” It’s the one and only time you’re ever going to say it, you decide. You like saying his name too much to shorten it. And his back may be turned to you now, but that now familiar chuckle still makes its way to your ears.

Bradley leads you to the bar first, where he buys another glass of rosé and a beer for himself. When you try to pass your credit card to the woman behind the counter, he takes it, and rasps into your ear, “Let me.”

He tucks it right back into your purse as the sound of brass instruments starts up yet again.

“Like a dog with a goddamn bone,” you hear him mumble. And you press your lips together to keep from laughing. Sure, you’d rather be seeing his big move, but you can’t claim not to be amused by all of this.

He nods to a group of people in the corner near the popcorn machine when the two of you enter the alcove with pool table. Some of his other friends of his you assume.

You send them a little wave, one that they return in greeting. You can tell they’re curious, but you’re grateful when they resume their conversation instead of making you feel like your date with Bradley had become a spectator sport for their viewing entertainment.

The first thing Bradley does is introduce you to his friend. It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. You appreciate the way he is still prioritizing your comfort the way he’s been doing it since he first sat down across from you.

The second thing he does is pull out a chair for you. Not with a fanfare, not with a flourish. But like it’s something that’s innately ingrained in him. You get the sense that the gentleman thing isn’t an act with him, it’s who he is.

Jake rests a hip against the table. “Sorry to interrupt your date, but Bradshaw and I had some unfinished business.”

You wave him off, it’s not a big deal. Not when you’ll have the rest of the night with Bradley. Plus, you’re eager to watch this play out between them, curious about their gameplay.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with,” Bradley rumbles, as he arranges the balls in the rack. And you wonder if he lost the lag before he’d made his way over to your table for one.

He comes back over to you, and leans on the ledge next to you as he chalks his cue. You’d thought about slipping your sweater back on, with the outside chill pressing against the line of glass windows at your back, but Bradley had more than enough warmth radiating off of him that you didn’t need to.

“You that eager to be out a couple hundred, Bradshaw?” Jake grins, as he leans over the side of the table. He turns his gaze to you and sends you a wink right before he breaks, sending the cue ball barreling into the others with a resounding clack, scattering them across the table.

And then they’re off.

It’s a rapid fire of back-and-forth banter between the men as they take their shots. Mostly good natured, but undeniably competitive. Smirking when they land their shots, and snarking over fouls. Clear that neither of them wants to lose.

Jake is all confident posturing, playing low over the cue with a lightly too tight grip. It’s the only thing that gives him away that he’s not the easygoing player as he wants people to think he is. Choosing higher risk shots that would highlight his ability versus some of the more straightforward options laid out for him, and skilled enough that it pays off most of the time. But after a couple rounds you note he’s too quick to stand up after taking his shot, not enough follow through because he’s too eager to see if his gamble pays off.

Bradley is all loose-limbed ease, clearly comfortable in both his skin and at the table. You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. Although he does take his time as he positions himself around the table, only adjusting his bridge every now and then. Always with a 1-2 shot, a warm-up stroke followed by a steady hit. Watching him you catch his tendency to throw out his elbow of the follow through.

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

When Bradley’s not up to play, he’s by your side, right at your elbow. And when he is, it’s your eyes he’s looking into the moment he stands back up, seeking out your reaction. But more than once you feel his eyes on you as you watch them play.

True to your word, you to admire him in those snug fitting jeans. And when he catches your appreciative gaze, he sends you a wink before lining up his next shot.

Jake sinks another solid into the pocket he’d called only moments ago, and turns his dimpled smile at you, “You still sure about your date with the old man, chickadee? I bet I could show him up in that department too.”

The way he says it, you know he’s just teasing, probably just to rile you date up and get a reaction from him.

“Unfortunately for you, I think I have a thing for mustaches now,” you toss back, unbothered. And Bradley smiles into his drink.

You watch as Jake lines up his next shot and hits the white with a compact stroke.

“Double hit,” you declare.

“Dammit,” Jake curses.

You look over to see Bradley looking at you with a focused look on his face. Like there’s a theory clicking into place, one he needs the answer to. Wordlessly, he hands you the cue.

“You sure?” you ask.

“Two hundred dollars sure,” he states.

You take it from him with a sly grin.

Bradley’s thighs brush against the front of your knees, you know if you parted them even a couple inches, that he’d fit just right between them. His hands landing on your waist again as he assists you off the stool you’ve been perched on. And you’re starting to think he just likes an excuse to touch you, not that he needs one because you already more than like the feel of his hands on your body.

You walk the pool table, running a finger around the rails as you do. Evaluating the balls on the table like they’re chess pieces. The slow clip of your heels on the floor like the tick of a clock as you take your time deciding your approach.

“You’re the stripes,” Jake offers helpfully. “Don’t worry, I’ll even let you have a free shot.”

And you can’t help but laugh because this is going to be fun.

“Bradley?” you ask, leisurely chalking your cue.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you mind?” You gesture to the spot behind you, and he catches on quick with a not-so-subtle glance at the short hem of your skirt.

He sets his beer down and comes to stand behind you, there’s just enough space between the two of you that you don’t have to worry about hitting him with the cue, his broad from proving you the coverage you needed to bend over the table. While you don’t think you’d mind Bradley seeing the silk thong you had on underneath your dress, you weren’t exactly up for flashing the whole bar.

You haven’t played in a while, but it’s a muscle memory at this point, as you map out your moves. Seeing the lines and angles and arcs in your mind’s eye before anchoring your bridge.

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. A tendril of smokey gratification curls its way along your spine. You turn your head back to the pool table looking between the cue, target, cue ball, target.

It’s a smooth stroke with a satisfying crack. A clean three-rail shot that lands the striped five into the pock you’d intended for it.

“Damn” is all Jake says. His eyes you up, clearly impressed.

“You sure about that free shot, Jake?” You stand up and smooth out your dress, just for the show of it. “Or do you want to make it double or nothing instead, Malibu Ken?” You hear Bradley snort from behind you.

And just like you thought, he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, “Deal.” Jake turns to Bradley. “I just let your girl hustle me, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Bradley says with a grin, but his eyes are on you.

Neither are surprised when you sink your next shot too. The six sailing into the left corner pocket.

On your next shot, you may or may not deliberately foul. A tactical choice that sets Jake up with a less than ideal position on the table, knowing it’ll be a difficult shot for him to make.

“Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?” Jake grouses.

You just smile and take a sip of the rosé that Bradley hands you, neither confirming or denying.

Surprisingly, he banks it. But his good luck only lasting through that one play. Because on his next, the ball glances off the side rail at too acute an angle to reach the intended pocket and he groans.

Not quite ready to be done, you ease off a little. Enough that they both know you’re going easy on him to extend the game longer, just so that he can catch up to you.

But soon enough, soon there’s only your eight ball left on the table.

“Looks like you’re about to be out four hundred dollars, Jake,” you say with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Just put me out of my misery already.”

You turn to Bradley, who has been carefully positioning himself behind you the whole time. You hold out the cue to him and ask, “Do you want the honors?”

He shakes his head. “Go on, finish him off, sweetheart. I’m enjoying the show.”

And when your final ball tips into the side pocket, Jakes resounding groan is drown out by the whistle Bradley lets loose between his thumb and pointer finger, as you turn towards him beaming.

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you.

You look over his wide shoulder, “As for the whiskey, something expensive please, Malibu Ken.”

Jake huffs a grumble but nods all the same as he goes to round up your winnings.

“Scored four hundred dollars and a valentine, that’s not too shabby, if I do say so myself,” you preen to Bradley.

“Think that might have been the best thing I’ve seen all year,” Bradley announces. “The hottest too, if I’m being honest.” You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze. His finger slips under the thin strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder somewhere along the way. He slides it back up and into place, treating it like some delicate thing the same way he did that paper wrapper. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

Normally, this is when you’d rerack, but you’ve never had a Bradley Bradshaw looking at you before.

“I took a class in college over the summer as an elective credit, and it turns out I had a knack for it,” you explain with a playful little shrug.

“I’ll say.” He takes another step closer. “Did you just show me your move, sweetheart?”

“One of them,” you grin.

You don’t have to press up to his height, not with your pearly heels.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. You feel the curve of a smile before his hands slide around your waist to pull you closer.

The scrape of his mustache against your upper lip sends electricity racing along every nerve ending in your body. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. It’s unhurried, like he’s been waiting to savor the feel of your mouth against his. Exciting and new as you learn the taste and touch of him. You knew it was going to be good, but even so, it’s better than you could have expected.

“Think you just snagged that number one spot of my list of favorite mustached men,” you say against his lips.

“Suck it, Selleck,” he rasps.

You inhale the amusement of his light chuckle, letting it go to your head like champagne bubbles, before he slips a hand around the base of your neck and pulling you in close once again.

A couple hours later, you find yourself at home on the couch. Your cheeks a little sore from how much smiling you’d done tonight, as Tom and Meg trade words over a plate of caviar on screen.

It was only much later that night you’d gotten to see Bradley’s big move.

He’d surprised you with his voice and the talented way his fingers glided over the white and black keys. An expensive glass of amber colored liquor sitting atop the old piano as he played, and four hundred dollars tucked safely away in your purse.

You’d given him your number when he’d walked you to your car, only distracting you for a few extra minutes with his mouth, before you’d left for the night, hoping that you’d hear from him soon.

A notification lights up your phone, and a ribbon of thrill unspools through you.

You sigh when you see that it’s a notification from your dating app. You’re wary to open it, not wanting anything to color your night, but you figure now is as good of time as any to block the guy who had nothing on the one you’d spent your evening with.

When you see the name of the person who’d sent you a message, you click into his profile with lightning-fast fingers, skimming all the details to things you hadn’t had a chance to learn yet.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝟑𝟓

𝐉𝐨𝐛 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

There is a picture of him in uniform, grinning to someone out of the frame. And another one of him shirtless on the beach, surrounded by some of the faces you’d seen tonight at the Hard Deck.

But it’s the answers to the prompts that he’d picked, that set your heart fluttering.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬: 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.

𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬.

That one makes you laugh.

You open the message from him, one that had been sent with a rose.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞? 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧? 𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈 𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐩.

You don’t even have to think.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝?

And you can’t help but grin to yourself as look at that paper ring still on your finger. Because you know, this app won’t be on your phone for much longer.

Not now that you’ve met him.

Happy Hearts Day, friends! Thank you for reading!

And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!

You can read my other 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

#I love to ramble in the tags this isn’t the last you’ll be seeing from me 😭#I’ve been on a rampage through top gun masterlists the past few weeks and I love your fics 🫶🏼#im a firm believer of if you have a genuine compliment you should give it—not just think it #so I let myself ramble in the tags where no one has to read it if they don’t want to lmao #im glad it made you happy because now im so happy #ive read more of your stuff already and just have them queued (so I don’t spam) I really love your fics!!

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joocomics · 8 months ago

Text

welcome to my cult mel i hope you enjoy your stay <3🙂‍↕️

remember your first

read part two here

pairing: non-idol!hyeongjun x virgin fem!reader

genre: smut, slice of life wc: 8.2k

summary: music is what started your friendship with your college classmate han hyeongjun, but your virginity is what made it really blossom

warnings: corruption kink, manipulation (light but still be aware), degradation, virgin kink, dacryphilia

contains: college au, hard dom!junhan, protected sex, dirty talk, cussing, phone sex, pet names, spit kink, face slapping (f!rec), exhibitionism, voyeurism, choking (f!rec), oral sex (m/f), sensation play, subtle pet play?, masturbation, name calling, alcohol consumption, smoking cigarettes

[ xdinary heroes masterlist | general masterlist ]

“This doesn’t make a good first time story.”

Your brows furrow together, as you try to really make sense of Hyeongjun’s words who takes a sip of his ice tea before slouching into his chair.

The cafeteria is packed and you occasionally look around in case your friend doesn’t see on which table you are sitting when she walks in, but also just in case someone you know passes by, and you have to drastically change the conversation.

You don’t want anyone you’re familiar with to hear you’re discussing your virginity.

“Why not? It’s special.”

“Dinner in a fancy restaurant, flowers…” Hyeongjun lifts another finger in the air, repeating what you said earlier about your long awaited first time. The special sensual sex you’ve been dreaming about since you turned eighteen. “Then he takes you to his dorm room where he has candles and shit, yeah none of that is going to happen, Y/N.”

He grins even more widely when he sees your badly covered disappointment. The corners of his eyes wrinkle appealingly, as he looks at you.

“No one does that anymore.”

“I will meet someone who will think exactly the opposite,” you move forward in your seat with a determined look on your face. “Sweet romantic guys like that still exist believe it or not. You’re just not hanging out with crowds where you would meet them.”

You take the little plushie hanging from Hyeongjun’s keychain that’s left on the table to keep your hands busy. Most of the time you don’t mind that you’re approaching the middle of your second college year still a virgin, but this week it seems like you do.

Hyeongjun huffs at your comment, staring at your pouty lips. He’s used to your silly ways of seeing relationships like a rom com movie.

Despite your obvious differences you and Hyeongjun became friendly the first week of your first year in this exact same cafeteria when he noticed you were listening to one of his favorite bands. After he approached you, asking for your name, you were surprised to find out he’s in a band himself. You easily kicked it off after that, and the rest was history. You still haven’t actually hung out outside of your shared lectures in college, but you didn’t really mind it. Most of the time at least…

You’ve thought a few times about asking him for a drink, a friendly drink, but there was always something stopping you to send the message. There’s also the problem with his band members and friend group overall. As the type of people that your mother would mark as a bad example, you didn’t have anything in common with them.

“Even if you do meet the one…” Hyeongjun speaks out the one with a mocking tone, that makes your eyes roll. “You’re still gonna have a boring first fuck.”

He shifts, resting his elbows on the surface of the table, watching you laugh silently. The metal zippers of his black leather jacket hit the table, creating harsh noise against the wooden surface only you can hear.

“You’re not just some ordinary girl like the rest, Y/N,” he speaks out again. “I know this is not what you really want.”

You lower your attention to his lips, because the way his gaze is piercing through your eyes makes you nervous in a way you’ve never felt around him.

“What else could I want…” You ask more yourself than him.

“So much more… Don’t you want the experience to be fun?” He tilts his head curiously, and you catch the silver earring on his right ear dangle around. “Thrilling? Something worth to think back to.”

“For example?”

“Nah…” He moves back with a sigh. “I don’t want to put ideas in your head. Think about it on your own.”

You shake your head at the thought of spending even more time than you already do sobbing over this.

“No, thanks, I’m over it,” you mumble just when you see your friend approaching your table. You wave back at her while finishing your thought. “I’m not just gonna sit and think about this like it’s some kind of homework.”

“Then touch yourself and your mind will do it on its own.”

When your friend greets both of you, throwing her bag on the chair next to yours, she has to greet you again, because you didn’t hear her the first time.

Hyeongjun tosses his backpack over his shoulder, picks up his keys and cellphone from the table.

As you watch him get ready to leave you realise in some new and unusual kind of way your time spent together doesn’t feel enough. Since you don’t share classes for the rest of the week you’re going to see each other next Tuesday, and that has never looked so farther away to you.

“See you next week, Y/N.”

Hyeongjun’s words were following you everywhere.

You couldn’t help, but think multiple times a day about what he said being the truth. You can have more fun experiences, you’ve always known that in a random little corner of your mind, but first you have to leave your comfort zone.

While the conversation from the cafeteria is replaying in your head your hand, unintentionally or not, slips under your sweats rubbing gently against your panties. Your lips part to let out a sigh after your fingers stop on your clit, putting light pressure.

It takes a few minutes for you to realise that the image of Hyeongjun is still vivid in your mind.

After you slide a finger through your slickness, gasping at the amount of wetness you produced, you comprehend the fact you’re masturbating while thinking about him.

You try to block the thought away, but the warm feeling coming from your core is too good to do anything else besides keeping your hand moving.

Turning over on your stomach you repress your moans and hitched breaths into the pillow. You’re so overwhelmed with the sudden rush, that you cannot control your hand on just one single motion. Wanting so desperately to get to the end of this sensation you end up simultaneously rubbing, humping your palm, fingering your pool of arousal while fantasising that your fingers are someone else’s.

Your body begins to shake as you rub as fast as you can till you can’t handle it anymore. You’ve began to do this more frequently than you used to, more than you’d like to admit, but you can’t resist it. However, the obvious thing you can’t ignore is that you’ve never been this wet before as you are this morning. You’ve never felt so high while doing this to yourself, and you’ve never done it with Hyeongjun stuck in your mind.

You lift up startled from the pillows when your phone starts ringing under the sheets. When you find the device your heartbeat suddenly quickens even more at the look of the name displayed on the screen.

Even though you exchanged numbers last year you’ve barely spoken on the phone. You always text each other unless it’s about something important having to do with an assignment that’s easier explained by speaking.

You didn’t have other reasons to call each other.

As your thumb hovers over the green button the wetness under your panties becomes more and more obvious, but you try your best to ignore it despite the cotton fabric practically sticking to it like a second layer of skin.

“Hey,” you greet him after clearing your throat, trying to sound as nonchalantly as possible.

“I was just about to hang up,” says the familiar voice on the other line. “Hey. Did I wake you up?”

“No, no. I’m just… chilling before it’s time to head to class.” Your thighs press against each other harder with each word you say. “What are you up to?”

“I’m with the guys, we’re practicing.”

You did hear a few male voices coming from the distance. You try focusing on them and Hyeongjun, not on your heartbeat that still hasn’t recovered from your intense orgasm.

“Didn’t you mention once that you have classes till four?”

“I did.” A short sound from one of the strings of his guitar sneaks through the speaker, and disappears just as quickly. “I skipped.”

“What are you practicing for?” Your teeth grab your lower lip.

“Actually that’s why I’m calling. We have a small gig on Saturday and I would like it if you come to watch me. If you’re interested.”

“Oh, I’d like that,” you reply, leaning back against the wall.

“Sweet,” Hyeongjun mumbles, and you can hear his perky smile. “I’ll text you the details then.”

You thank him for the invite, and just when you’re about to hang up, he speaks again.

“Y/N, did you…” The sudden note of suspicion in his voice rings in your ear. “Wait.”

You hear shuffling noises followed by a door closing.

“Were you touching yourself?”

“Hyeongjun…” Your throat dries in seconds from panic. “What, why are you asking me that?”

“You sound like you cummed really hard. And it took you some time to pick up the phone.”

The way he said that so comfortably and bluntly brought a fog to your brain that made it even more of a challenge to make up a smart lie on the spot, so you decide to be honest. It’s not like you’re going to talk about sexual things with him for the first time.

“Okay, yeah I did. Wasn’t that what you recommended me to do?” You ask jokingly, but his voice remains calm.

“Good girl.”

The praise causes a halt in your heart.

“What did you think about?” He’s eager to know.

“Uhm, nothing really.”

“Tsk, that can’t be true.”

There’s no way you can be that honest with him right now.

“Mostly about myself… what I was doing. I don’t really know what I want yet if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Have you done oral with someone?”

“I’ve told you I haven’t done anything except kissing and two handjobs, Hyeongjun… Nothing has changed.” You sigh from frustration, sensing the feeling of shame coming back to warm your cheeks. You begin to get suspicious of the sudden silence that lasts a few seconds before you hear of him again.

“I’m just thinking how nice it would be to lick you up right now.” The sentence rolls off his tongue before he makes a temporary pause in which you pin point some muffled noise. “You must be really fucking wet…”

His voice begins to sound more low pitched with a washed out tone, that spreads the warmth from your face everywhere else on your body.

“Virgin girls start dripping from the smallest things. Are you sensitive, Y/N?”

“Yeah…” You focus on the other line in attempt to figure out if he’s doing something other than just talking. “I’m very sensitive.”

You’re now one hundred percent sure he’s jerking himself off as you speak. The moment you hear his first groan your hand slips back into your panties, much faster since you got rid of your sweatpants earlier. You still have arousal lingering between your folds that you bring up to spread over your sensitive clit.

“Did you made yourself cum?” He asks.

“I did, pretty quickly.”

“Tell me how.”

You shut your eyes in contemplation, your hand moves slowly in circles.

“I fucked myself with my fingers…” It seems like the fact you can’t see each other boosts your confidence, and the words start coming out on their own. “First with my legs spread wide, then with my ass up in the air.”

“Fuck—“ Hyeongjun’s heavy breathing follows with a light chuckle, that sounds too erotic in this situation. He’s pleasantly surprised from how forward you are with your answers. “You’ll be so fuckin’ tight… tightest pussy ever.”

His coarse words end in a moan that forces you to speed up your own pleasure too.

“I thought of you the whole time…” You whisper, holding your phone tightly. “That you were here watching me.”

You hear him only cuss quietly as a response. He obviously tries hard to contain his moans in order to not be heard from any of his band members.

“Ah, you won’t be able to stop clenching… But you’ll take it well cause you’ll be dripping for that fuckin’ cock… You want to get your pussy ruined after all… Right, dirty girl?”

Your imagination runs wild trying to picture him with his fist around his cock. His slim fingers painted in black nail polish dancing up and down, squeezing till he spills all over himself.

“I-I do…” Your body slips downwards, as you begin to pump your fingers, once again aiming for another climax. “Yeah, I do.”

“Holy s-shit…” He spits out until the sound of his furious fist slamming against his body is the only thing you can hear before a powerful moan gets stuck in his throat, because he doesn’t have the chance to let it out.

On Friday afternoon during your last lecture of the week you receive a message from Hyeongjun. Your heart skips a beat at the thought of it having something to do with what happened the other day on the phone, but it doesn’t.

the bar will be crowded and really hot

don’t get overdressed

leave your panties at home if you want

“You came.”

You turn to see Hyeongjun with a bottle of beer in hand. He’s still breathing heavily from his performance, and somehow he looks just as captivating as he did on the stage, or even more. You notice that his forehead that’s exposed from his bangs is glistening with sweat, as he settles down on the lounge to take the empty seat next to you.

“Of course, how could I miss it?” You cross your legs, fixing your skirt as you turn to face him better. “You did great. All of you did amazing.”

Hyeongjun’s eyes crawl up your bare legs, from your exposed ankles to the middle of your thighs where your small skirt ends. You listened to him; you did come with as less clothing on your body as possible. Your top that shows some skin around your bellybutton every time you move with those thin almost nonexistent straps doesn’t leave much to the imagination either.

“Last time we were here we sucked.” He leans back, relaxing his body. “Maybe you’ll turn out to be my lucky charm.” The corners of his lips lift up for a moment before he drinks.

The memories from your phone call burst into your mind, and you begin to wonder if he’s going to bring it up tonight. You want him to, but at the same time you know you’re not ready to talk about it just yet, at least not here.

A few people pass by to chat with Hyeongjun. Some you’ve seen around in college, others you meet for the first time. They let him know they loved his band and ask him all kinds of questions about it before leaving.

His band members, all three of them, come along too, crashing on the other side of the lounge. They exchange a few words before Hyeongjun quickly brings his attention back to you.

“You look pretty tonight.”

Your eyebrows raise subtly, as you’re taken aback from the sudden compliment.

“Thanks,” you smile, taking a sip from your glass of white wine that’s getting warmer. You started drinking from it more quickly since Hyeongjun sat down next to you.

A young woman walks up on the stage and starts singing impressively when he leans towards your ear.

“Can you see well?”

Despite your assurance that the view from your seat is great, he still pulls you with his hands, placing you onto his lap.

“Isn’t this better?” His thumb brushes the zip of your skirt, as his hands leave your waist.

You look down to see the way his palms glide on the naked skin of your thighs; the way they slide on the inner surface so his black nails can scratch it gently. His emphasised veins immediately hold your attention. The hint of roughness his fingertips have get your lower tummy excited.

However, as much as his touch electrifies you at this moment, the one thing that makes you swallow your tongue is the feel of your ass resting against his crotch. You freeze, avoiding any kind of possible movement.

“Hey,” he slurs into the crook of your neck, pushing your hair to one side. “Loosen up, it’s just me.”

“I know.”

Hyeongjun takes a shameless whiff of your perfume; he takes the sweetness of it all in, letting it arouse his senses.

Noticing his bottle is empty, he reaches towards the table to pick up another. This forces his chest to press against your back, letting his body heat to sink into your spine through the thin fabric of his graphic tee that allows you to feel every part and muscle of his chest.

He swiftly opens the beer with the lighter he uses for his cigarettes while he keeps his arms around your waist. He guides the neck of the glass bottle to your glossy lips and the strong smell hits you.

“Wanna sip?”

“Sure,” you mumble. You’ve never tried beer before and you quickly find out it’s not your thing.

Hyeongjun looks closely at the view of your plump lips wrapped around the bottle, before chuckling at the drastic change in your expression after the taste invades your mouth.

“I don’t like it.” You wipe off the few droplets of alcohol from the corner of your mouth.

He drinks after you right away just to gather all the spit and lipstick you left on the glass.

A moment later, as the vibrant song continues, you notice the bottle going down in your lap. If you did have an idea of what Hyeongjun might be up to, you would’ve reacted differently, but you didn’t, so you jerk up as if something just bit you, grabbing on his wrist.

“Hyeongjun!”

You look around every corner of the place. Thankfully everyone’s attention is focused somewhere else, and the crowd is swaying around.

“So you did follow all my orders.”

Orders. Not advice, or suggestions.

Orders. The word comes with a certain weight that presses the back of your tongue leaving you speechless.

The cold bottle is now settled between your spread thighs, and presses harder against your naked cunt. Your tummy begins to clench from all the different sensations coming together.

“Mmhp…” You use the sound of desperation as some sort of an answer. The wetness that’s dripping from the glass begins to glide down your pussy creating a nice ticklish feel to it.

“Move.” Hyeongjun brushes his lips against your ear while caging you in place with his left arm. “Come on, horny girl, it will feel so good. It already does, see?” The hard cold surface moves under your skirt to rub your clit satisfyingly.

You roll your hips once, grinding against the thick length of the beer bottle. Then twice. Eventually you begin to ride it delicately - the beer bottle and Hyeongjun’s semi hard on.

The coldness spreads all over your intimate flesh, kissing your clit, and you feel the urge to moan. The sound keeps building up in your throat, as you continue with the motions, encouraged by the warm knot in your core, and Hyeongjun’s voice over your shoulder that turns you just as woozy.

“That’s it, sweetheart… Told you it will feel nice.” He places his first kiss on your neck, wet and slow, allowing you to really feel his tongue. “Keep going.”

You do your best at moving not too fast, not too obviously, but it’s getting harder. You wish you could do it quick and just let the rush take over.

“Hyeongjun, no more..”

“We’re not leaving till you cum on that bottle.”

He doesn’t seem to hesitate to command you at all.

His hot breath fans your skin just below your earlobe, but the excitement from it cannot compare to the one you feel every time he tells you what to do. It can barely compare to the thrill of doing this in public around so many people. The exciting energy doubles every time you hear the roughness in his demanding voice; every time you feel his lips on the back of your neck, curling up lazily in a provocative smile.

“Don’t pretend to be that innocent…” He nibbles the space between your shoulder and neck, causing you goosebumps. “Not in front of me.”

Your one hand holds on the table in front of you, for support, as the other stays on top of Hyeongjun’s which is gripping your thigh.

“What if someone sees?”

“I’m pretty sure you’d enjoy that.”

The live music and loud cheers swallow your blissful sounds during the last moments of your breaking point. You ride out the ecstatic rush slow and steady which seems to make it even more intense to the point your lower body quivers vividly. The squirms give Hyeongjun’s erection such irresistible friction that he helps himself out by biting your skin to bare it more easily.

Hyeongjun lifts the beer in front of your face after he moves you to sit sideways on his right thigh, so he can have a better vew at your flushed face. His left hand traps your plush thighs together with fingers half hidden under the lower part of your skirt.

“This is a great brand,” he points out, glancing at his hand than back at you.

You can read the challenge in his dark gaze and you know what you need to do.

You stick out your tongue and lick up where all your essence lies. Without opening your eyes yet, you let it glide all the way to the bottle’s edge which you twirl the tip of your tongue around.

Hyeongjun smiles at the little ways you uncover your dirty nature to him; he couldn’t wait to see all of it.

“You have a pretty tongue,” his thumb and index finger catch your chin. “Show me again.” He says with a voice so low it sounds like he’s entranced by you.

Two of his fingers crawl inside your mouth, feeling the warm moisture of your pink tongue. They go deeper. Deep as they can, till the knuckles of the rest of his fingers dig into your chin, and it makes you gag. He glides them back against the soft texture, and sees you close your glistening lips tightly, not letting them go just yet. The sight of you sucking on them while maintaining eye contact doubles the pressure in his lower region.

“I always had a feeling you’ll turn out to be a secret slut.” His fingers pull out slowly, bringing your bottom lip downward, exposing a row of teeth.

“Who did you see?” He asks after he catches you staring in a different direction.

“It’s the guy I—“

“Seungmin?” He cuts you off with an intrigued tone that you can’t decide if it sounds more fake than real. “Didn’t you have a crush on him at one point?”

“Yeah, I did. I’m far from his type though.”

“What does that mean? That he doesn’t have an eye for sweet pretty girls like you? That’s bullshit.” Hyeongjun shifts his focus on Seungmin that’s leaning over one of the tables few feet away from you. “Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“Right now?”

“Now.” He replies. “Maybe he can be your first,” he turns to look at you again, but this time with a more serious expression.

“Are you saying I should flirt with Seungmin?”

“Not necessarily,” he makes a pause before adding: “It’s enough for you to just smile and look pretty in your little skirt. Go.” His hand smacks your thigh.

It’s like he can see right through your face that you prefer to be with him than anyone else right now, that’s why he’s smiling. But you can’t say no. Not to Hyeongjun.

You don’t want to.

“Hey,” you greet Seungmin when you go up to him.

He’s standing still behind a messy table with a drink in hand. From the look of it, it seems that he came here with someone that’s currently absent. Probably at the dance floor or at the bar for drinks.

“Hey, Y/N.” He shouts over the music. “I never expected to see you here.”

“I got invited.”

Seungmin moves closer to you, eyeing your face under the dim lights. He looks pleasantly surprised to see you.

“By who? I should thank him.”

His cheeky smirk turns into more of a curious expression with the corners of his lips curled up when he eventually notices Hyeongjun observing your interaction.

“Ah, I see. You two seem close.”

“Yeah, we’re good friends.” You make a step to get closer. “I came to cheer for his band.”

“Friends…” The word slips with suspicion from the boy’s tongue as he repeats it. “So he wouldn’t mind if I do this?” His finger reaches for your lips where a strand of your hair is sticking to your lipgloss. He removes it carefully, tucking it with the rest of your hair behind your ear.

You shake head at his question, glancing up to meet his eyes. They’re a bit hazed from the creeping effects of the alcohol, but mostly focused on you; smiling as in an invitation for something.

“Would you mind if I take you away from him for a few minutes?” He raises a brow, anticipating your answer.

“No.”

You follow Seungmin through a small corridor leading to the bathrooms. He shuts the door behind you and locks lips with yours right away, pressing you against the wall. You let him lower his mouth down your neck appreciating the way he handles you gently despite his obvious eagerness.

“You can touch me already if you want,” he suggests against your lips.

You move your hand from his chest to the waistband of his pants. When you feel his semi hard on in your palm the doubts of your actions come to you, and you pull back.

“I’m sorry…” You look down at your feet, too nervous to face him. “I’m not sure this is right.”

Seungmin peels off his palms from the wall you’re leaning on, and simply nods.

“It’s alright.” He shoots you a sincere half-smile, not minding the situation. “Enjoy the rest of the night.”

“You too,” you smile back watching him exit the bathroom.

You walk towards the sink to check up on your reflection in the mirror above. The effects Hyeongjun has on you are written all over your face.

A moment later after you return to your table Hyeongjun asks you to join him outside for a smoke.

The chilly wind brushes over your skin as you walk out the door, but after spending time in the humid atmosphere of the crowded bar it feels refreshing despite the shivers.

Hyeonjun steps behind you with a cigarette between his lips to put his black denim jacket over your shoulders. He brought it expecting the breeze to be chilly since fall is approaching.

He can sense damn well what happened between you and Seungmin, and his crooked smile proves it. He doesn’t bother asking questions he knows the answers to, so he skips this conversation.

“Wanna get out of here? There’s a cheap hotel nearby where we can spend the rest of the night.”

An immediate spark pops in your eyes when you hear the invitation. You don’t succeed at hiding it in time, and Hyeongjun catches the glimmer, holding onto it as he cuts the distance between you.

“Why didn’t you ask me this earlier?”

“Why does it matter?” He asks back, letting the smoke slip through his lips.

“Because I was going to say yes.”

Hyeongjun’s brows jump intrigued.

Were you really so unaware? Can’t you see the true motives behind his actions?

“So now the answer is no?”

You take a moment to respond cause you didn’t really get the chance to think about what’s your final decision.

After tossing his cigarette in the bin, Hyeongjun walks over to you again.

“Listen, doll,” he speaks softly and the name he suddenly calls you sends waves of electricity through your veins. “I know exactly what you want, I just need to hear you say it.” He slides up the loose strap of your top that was hanging from your shoulder. “It seemed like you needed a little help to figure out your real needs, and I was more than nice to give it to you. Didn’t you learn some new things about yourself the last few days? I certainly did.”

His hands trap you against the wall as he leans in. Once again, you’re at loss for words, but not so much because of nervousness, but because of how badly you crave to be kissed by him.

“You’re a dirty girl who needs to be told what to do. You get off to being watched. You wet yourself when there’s a chance you might be caught and humiliated… or scolded.” He grips your jaw and you have nowhere to look except his dark seductive eyes. “Will the sweet guys you think you want like that?”

His smile at your wordless reply lasts a second longer, as he checks out your lips that don’t sparkle anymore.

“Tsk, Seungmin wiped off your lipstick.”

You dismiss the comment. His previous words take over your entire mind, and they shock you only because Hyeongjun found out about them before you did.

“Should I put on some more for you?” Your voice comes out with a hint of provocation just as he brushes his thumb over the corner of your mouth.

Why hasn’t he kissed you yet?

You place your hand cautiously over his that’s resting on the side of your face. You’re begging to hear yes; begging to hear the invitation again so you can agree, and let him take you wherever he wants, and do whatever he feels is right for you.

“How did it feel kissing him? You must’ve dreamed about it a lot.”

“It was good…” You mutter, capturing every little bit of emotion his face could make as you continue your thoughts. “It was pretty much how I imagined it would go.”

“Great.” He whispers with dry calmness before pressing his lips together.

“But it’s not enough. That’s not what I want anymore.” You admit. “I want more. You.”

His hands roam all over you, gripping your flesh shamelessly as if you’re going to slip away any second now, but you’re not going anywhere. This is where you belong. In a small plain room of a hotel you’ve never heard the name of; with him.

You turn around, allowing him to smack your ass, as you crawl to the centre of the bed. When you peek behind your shoulder you see he’s already shirtless keeping his eyes on the way your pleated skirt exposes your bare ass.

Your plush thighs stay slightly spread apart, anticipating what’s coming.

“Did he touch here?” He runs one fingertip between your soft folds which makes you fumble over one simple word.

“No.”

“Were you going to let him if he wanted to?”

Your ass is up in the air tempting Hyeongjun to go further by bumping your entrance with the same finger. There’s already a new moisture collecting inside you, enough to spread it up to your clit and make your entire pussy slippery.

“No, I wasn’t going to…” You mumble, but hiss right after, cause your cheek jiggles from a new smack. The stinging warmth spreads on your skin pleasantly.

“Took you some time to answer,” Hyeongjun notes, digging his rings into your plush flesh by squeezing both butt cheeks. “You’re so fuckin’ desperate to pop your cherry, aren’t you? Gonna let anyone touch you, pathetic.” He moves one hand in front of you, while the other sneaks into your hair. His fingers tug on your roots not too harsh, but not too gently either, just enough to signal that you have to rise up on the instant. “Must really suck having to rub your clit every day all by yourself, poor girl.”

You mewl from the circling motions that rapidly stimulate your sensitive clit, as he keeps your back against his chest. His fingers apply more pressure than what you’re used to and the result quickly makes your mind fuzzy.

“If we’re going to do this you’ll need to learn how to use your words, kitten.” He quits the rubs and releases your hair. “Lay down.” His voice comes behind your shoulder in addition to the harsh sound of a new slap landing on your cheek.

You watch him kneel between your legs, spreading them apart with a burning flame in his eyes. However, first he wants to pull down the straps of your top before he goes down on you. He drags it down your chest, leaving it just above your bellybutton.

Hyeongjun has thought of your boobs so many times that now when they’re finally right in front of him he cannot contain the curses. His shameless stare doesn’t miss the way your nipple perks up after he flicks it with his finger. Everything about you is so delicate and succumbed to his control. Since you’re not used to being touched, every single rub, pinch and squeeze from his hand makes you gasp, and your dazed eyes amazed.

You need so little to get on cloud nine, but little is far from enough for Hyeongjun.

That’s why when he lays down to dive into your slickness he forces his tongue roughly, shooting strong rush of arousal into your core. The hungry way he laps on your juices is almost maniacally like he’s been waiting for this forever. He holds your shaking thighs that threaten to close around him, as he rolls his tongue over your clit before guiding it to your entrance.

“Gotta be soaked if you want to take me, doll.” He groans into your folds before pulling back to spit on your cunt.

He shoves two fingers inside you, making you yelp. His heavy from lust gaze moves on your flushed face all scrunched from the intense sensations that you struggle to comprehend. The captivating sight of your reactions encourages his hand to move mercilessly in and out of you; the way you clench tight just how he imagined you would provokes his pace even more.

“Feels better when someone else does it for you, doesn’t it horny girl?”

“So much b-better, Hyeongjun… please, m-more…”

He bends down and you take a close look of his mouth and sharp chin glistening with your essence.

“Your mess is all over my face, clean me up.”

Your tongue starts roaming around his mouth, cleaning carefully the corners, until stopping on his lips where you take your time gathering your juices. While you do this task his fingers have put their scissoring motion on pause, and the burning temptation to cum lingers inside you strongly as ever. Only his middle finger is teasing with miniature bumps back and forth, that you can hear the sound of in the silent room.

You suck hungrily on his bottom lip when you’re done, and that turns into the last straw for Hyeongjun. He smashes his mouth onto yours for the very first time, resuming to building back the pressure in your tummy at the same time.

The on going whimpers you make from your climax erupting so quick get lost and swallowed from the lushful contact of your lips, moving more greedily with each passing second.

You wrap hands around his neck to pull him closer, but to also have something to grab onto for support, as your body begins to convulse under his figure. The moment the wave hits you, your mouth opens in a silent scream, and you tilt your head back, pressing onto the pillow.

“Cum again for me, kitten, that’s it.” His voice goes lower and lower, as he watches you continue to squirm in the little skirt, mewling weakly from not able to control yourself at all. “So good at this…” He arches his fingers against your sweet spot a few more seconds, then takes them out to slap your vulnerable clit a few times as a praising gesture.

“I’m impressed, you’re doing so well for a virgin.” Hyeongjun pulls back, and gets up to get rid of his jeans.

Your attention span is so weak at this moment, but it’s not possible to miss the appealing features of his silhouette when he goes to look for his jacket to grab a condom, as you later find out. The waistband of his black boxers contrast against the tanned skin of his slim waist while the prominent contour of his erection has you anticipating to see what it looks like.

You heard him orgasm, but you haven’t seen him do it.

“Take these off, doll.”

You strip, but your eyes still stay focused on his body language. The nerves of seeing his cock being released from the stained fabric of his underwear, make the knot of energy in your tummy swirl with a new speed. Finally being able to free it must have made him feel good based off the long sigh that escapes through his lips when he takes it into his hand.

He tells you to turn around on your knees, and soon enough you feel his tip gliding between you folds through the protection. Although you’re squelching from how wet you are, the first inch Hyeongjun forces into your tight entrance makes you cry out.

“O-oh my god—“ You grip on the sheets when a sharp pain shoots through your lower region. Your feet move uncontrollably as the stinging continues to burn inside you, spreading everywhere. “Fuck, it hurts…”

“Just think about how good I’m gonna fuck you when you’re streched out for me.” Hyeongjun grips your hips, threatening to leave a few bruises, as his face twitches with pleasure. His erection is so overwhelmed from your tightness that it keeps throbbing, making him want to cum on the spot. “Isn’t this what you want, pretty girl? Getting fucked like a whore?”

“Yesyesyes—“ Your response melts into a wail when you feel the agony from the rest of his size going all the way through you. Tears start to form in the corners of your eyes and you try your best to hold them in.

It doesn’t get easier when he begins to thrust into you, but the only thing you can do is take it, and hope it does soon. The sound of his body clashing into your behind sounds so arousing; his loud moans excite you even more; you don’t want any of it to stop, so you pull one of the pillows and bite, suppressing your hiccups miserably.

Until he covers your mouth and you’re left sobbing in his palm.

“Shhh, it will go away. Stop fuckin’ crying,” he rumbles, just because he loves the sound of the command, not because he really wants you to.

After he changes the position by laying you on your back you really realise how much you turn him on when you cry. For this year and a half since you’ve known each other, he’s never looked at you like this once - as if he’s trying to memorise every detail that makes up your face. You’ve catched yourselves staring before; you’re always the one to look away pretending your attention was meant to be directed somewhere else, while he on the other hand, never has a problem in holding his gaze on you.

But it was never like this.

Hyeongjun follows the erotic stains of your tears like hypnotised until you hang arms around his shoulders, pulling him back into reality.

“Don’t stop…” You sneak your fingers into his dark hair, but as much as he likes the feeling of it he quickly grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head.

“Don’t stop what?”

“Fucking me… Please, I want this.”

Your voice breaks in the middle of a desperate moan after Hyeongjun fills you up again in one rough push. His strong cravings dictate his speedy pace in addition to his desire to see you completely fucked out under him that results in degrading words to keep flying out of his mouth.

“You liked that, huh..” He growls, as your whines that now sound like they come more from pleasure than from pain, begin to rise with each slam his cockhead gives your g-spot. “Does my slut starts to feel good, tell me.” He shifts in order his hand to find your clit and rub it with quick motions, that has you rolling your eyes back.

“Soo g-good… l-love it so much..” You blink up through your coiled lashes, mumbling incoherently through whimpers, “f-fuck—“ You gasp, taken aback by his hand suddenly moving from your cunt to your throat. You feel his fingers hugging your neck, putting the ideal amount of pressure on both sides to get you dizzy, as his hips do not plan on slowing down.

“Gonna fuck you so good you won’t settle for anything less than my cock, you hear me.. Nothing will ever feel like this again, kitten.”

You try to hold onto every word he says, as they send waves of arousal in your tummy, but it all becomes too much and they start slipping from your mind the second Hyeongjun mutters them in his panting.

“Look at me,” he grunts. “Don’t be pathetic, look at me as I fuck you.” He scoffs at the way your smeared with makeup eyelids barely stay open. “Rub your clit, come on. Don’t just lay there.”

“Mhhm…” A noise of desperation slips from your trembling lips immediately when your fingers get in contact with your overstimulated nerves. You don’t even need to press against it, a light brush is enough to bring your climax, when the rest of you is scorching from his pounds. “Hyeong— ‘m gonna cum—“

“Tsk,” Hyeongjun clicks with his tongue before turning your head with a slap. Your hand automatically pulls away from your clit. “That’s not the way, pretty one. What do whores say when they want to cum?”

“Please… let me cum, p-please.”

“Better,” he lifts his upper body up, locking eyes with your pleading gaze. The multiple orgasms are starting to take their toll on you, and you look so captivating with your miserable tears, and little head in the clouds. His curiosity has him already wonder how much more you can handle, but at the same time he wants to save some things for the future. “You’re trying your best, so I’ll let it slide.”

You feel the burning rush rising to flood your body, and your eyes squeeze from embarrassment, however, a moment later they open from a warning smack on your thigh.

“Look at me as you cum, doll. Is this all it takes to fuck you dumb?” He takes a peek at your boobs, bouncing with every shove of his length, then brings them back to your one hand toying with your sore clit. “Already sleeping on me, holy shit—“

Hyeongjun’s face contorts the moment you suck his cock in, tightening around his thickness. He remains silent, wanting to focus on your moans that elevate and become heavier as your mind goes blank. The condom gets fully soaked from you, as you cum even harder.

With all the strength he has, Hyeongjun slams the tip of his cock into your deepest spot, sloppier, but just as intense, waiting for your high to cool off before he pulls out.

As his own panting normalises, he gets up, slipping off the messy wrapper from his shaft.

“Come,” he calls out, standing on his feet in front of the bed. His fist is caressing his now bare cock through slow tugs. “Yeah, crawl to me, kitten.” He eyes the trouble you have using your wobbly legs with a satisfying smirk on his face.

“Stay.”

You freeze on all fours with palms close to the edge of the mattress.

It’s right in your face. There’s no condom to hide it, and you see the angry redness of his leaking tip. You can’t help, but gulp your drooling over and over again, as he lowers it down to your mouth.

“I’ve only done it with my hand,” you confess when he gets closer with the swollen head between his fingers.

“Just stay still and don’t forget to breathe.” He simply states, but then decides there’s one small thing he can help you out with. “Open your mouth for me.”

You blink up showing him a glimpse of your pink tongue. It takes you some to figure out what he’s planning on doing. Just after you notice the thick string of spit escaping his lips you realise you have to catch it. You stand in the same position dismissing the ache in your sore muscles, as you wait for his saliva to fall in your mouth.

Seeing it finally glide to the back of your tongue, Hyeongjun invites his cock in your small mouth with an unexpected persistence that makes you wince on your knees. He finds it cute that after all this time he has you under his control you still expect him to go easy on you.

“Wanna see you take all of it, fuck,” he whispers, and his hand resting on the back of your head feels your attempts to pull back already. “If you want to get fucked like a slut, you should start sucking dick like one. Come on, make your mouth just as filthy as your pussy,” he gives you an encouraging slap, feeling his erection through your cheek. “Prove to me you make a good whore.”

He pushes your head towards his lower abdomen, letting you slobber his length as much as possible. The loud groan you hear above you after his tip stays in the deepest part of your throat sends shivers down your spine. You wish you could make him feel this good without any of his guidance.

As he said, you make sure to keep breathing through your nose simultaneously fighting back the urge to gag from the unsettling taste the rubber of the condom has left on him. You force your tongue to move as much as possible, roaming wherever it can reach, as you bob your head slowly after his hand stops keeping you pressed into his tummy.

“That’s it, make it wet, doll.”

Your eyes look up innocently tempted by the subtle praise. You even let out a satisfied moan that shoots pleasant vibrations through his core, causing Hyeongjun to hum with his fingers tangling in your hair. But you couldn’t resist the emotions; seeing his dark messy hair falling into his face that’s contorted by the pleasure he’s receiving from you, brings you just as strong delight.

A moment later the bitterness on your tongue becomes too much, and you have to spit him out despite not wanting to. Your head falls defeated when you begin to gag embarrassed by your behaviour.

“Shit, it just started to feel good, what do you think you’re doing, huh?”

“I’m sorry, it’s the condom, the—“

“I don’t fuckin’ care,” Hyeongjun cuts you off, tilting your wet chin up. “I want to cum, are you denying me that?”

You shake your head watching him with apologetic hazy eyes.

“I’ll do better,” you quietly say under your breath. Your heart skips a beat when he squats, leaning in so close your noses almost brush against one another. You close your eyes anticipating the thrilling touch of his lips, but you know you have to work for that, and you quickly look back at him. “Spit on me… again.”

Hyeongjun’s eyes widen with surprise, and he stands up straight.

“Please,” you add the magic word, and you see his dark gaze sparkling from how exciting it sounds in your voice. “I deserve it.”

He doesn’t hesitate to grip your jaw, holding your head steady, and spit at the centre of your face. He does it one more time, then another, till your scrunched features have enough of it.

You open your eyes to his cock tapping your cheek before spreading the saliva everywhere on your face, and forcing it through your lips.

This time you succeed in bearing both the taste and the pain of his size bullying your throat a bit easier. You begin to get used to it, but the fact Hyeongjun’s quick hips do all the work helps you out too - this way you don’t even have the time or the ability to think about anything at all.

He glides in and out of your mouth mercilessly, not paying attention if you struggle or not. The knot in his core is so close to snapping as your eyes fill with tears again, the thought of slowing down or opening his eyes doesn’t even cross his mind.

“Fuck, fuck—“ he groans in a much weaker voice than before. The new vulnerable note to his tone makes it obvious he’s close. “God… yeah, swallow it, kitten.”

You do your best to stay still as he releases his orgasm while throbbing between your hollowed cheeks.

The intense fluttering that follows in your chest from his hand roughly closing your mouth to keep it all in makes you smile shyly, before you take his warm seed down your throat.

“Your first time eating my cum.”

It was your first time of many things.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

#istg nothing makes me feel more of an achiever than people who say they believe in dom junhan because of me #especially if it’s all because of this particular fic #aka the one i have a crazy soft spot for #thank you mel 🫶🏼#feedback <3 #— remember your first

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