#group day t-shirt

[fellametshirts]

Coding is my Superpower! 💻 Unleash your Programming Prowess with this Stylish T-Shirt! 🚀 Embrace the World of Algorithms and Debugging in Style! 💡 Wear it Proudly, Geek it Smartly! 🤓

[alpacacare-archive]

inside you there are two wolfs

[deathbypufferfish]

Finding out my brother is his friends' token cishet guy was so fun. I told him they should make him a little t-shirt in honor of it :)

[warthoggz]

Is it just me or are pride parades getting worse year after year?

I'm not talking about any kind of debate as to whether kink belongs at pride or if we need to create a safe space in pride for minors.

The corporations in pride (and probably other parades too) have gotten out of hand. This year there were like two real floats, maybe a few groups had a truck along with them. 90% of the groups that were walking through were just walking holding signs, and it was all corporations, not even actual LGBT organizations!

It's one thing if the LGBT seniors group can't afford to rent a float, that's understandable, they're not for profit. But when the big banks come through and they've just got a bunch of the tellers to volunteer to wear a branded t-shirt with a rainbow on it and that's their whole contribution? I'm talking about the groups that aren't doing anything else whatsoever for the LGBT community.

It would be better for everyone involved if instead of getting a handful of workers to walk in the sun doing nothing interesting and claiming that as their bare minimum support for our community, these corporations could sponsor a non-profit local LGBT organization, then they could have a fun float plus some, the audience gets a better show, and the corporation gets to slap their logo on the side of the float.

At least then when they say "look! we support LGBT rights" it actually looks like they might be doing something.

The bar might be in hell but maybe they could bring it up to the 3rd circle instead of the 9th?

[a-b-riddle]

Part Three

Warning: If you don't like Taylor Swift, you're not gonna like this chapter that much, homie. But So Long, London is so fitting for this drabble series. (I guess a series since it's longer than a drabble at this point)

Can’t stop thinking about reader just trying to move on

You had to remind yourself several times not to check in with the guys. It had almost become second nature doing something big like this. But going to another country…

Not that they would care. You told yourself. It was for the best that way.

The expo went better than you expected. You didn’t believe that there would be a line out the door of eager readers wanting to read your book, but you got a decent amount. More than a few told you they couldn’t wait to read it. Several asking for photos and asking questions on any future books, a spin-off or even continuing the series.

When one a particular large group of girls your age asked for a group photo, you could have cried. They were had found each other in an online book club. You had given them your book several months ago. All copies signed with a note thanking them for taking the time to read what you had poured your heart into.

You had spent a large chunk of your free time talking to them. Bonding more so as women than over your book.

"Have you listened to Taylor's new album?"

It had only been out for two days and you had been able to avoid it like the plague. You didn't need to even listen to 'So Long, London' to know it would fucking gut you. So you would enjoy your time in the states. Save the listening experience for when you were packing up their stuff.

They had posted and tagged you before continuing on with the rest of the expo. You had reposted the photo to your own social media. Or at least one attached to the pen name you had crafted. You only had twelve thousand instagram followers, but it was something.

The first day was much like the second. You had attended several Q & A sessions with a panel of more experienced authors and managed to go to a few meet and greets. Before you knew it, it was time to pack up shop.

The agent the publishing house had assigned to you had stuck with you for most of the day. You were able to pick her brain a bit about new ideas for possible future plot lines and her thoughts. Overall, the trip was great.

Not only were you able to make great connections and take a lot back home with you to reference, but for a few days you forgot what waited for you back home. Or rather what wasn't waiting for you.

By the time your plane landed back in London you could barely hold yourself up. You left the expo, went straight to the hotel to shower, pack and head to the airport.

Your flight was delayed. Your luggage was taking forever to get onto the belt. It was only seven, but fuck if you weren’t ready to just call it a day. Tomorrow you would have to start again. Opening up the shop. Coming back to an empty flat. Maybe start gathering up the items the boys had left behind.

Should you give them in separate boxes or just one giant one and let them sort it out themselves? It was easy to discern whose sweatshirt and t-shirts belonged to who, but when it got to things like socks and chargers...

Yeah.

They could sort it themselves.

You could drop it off at Kyle's when you knew he would be at the gym. He was good at avoiding you anyway.

It wasn't until you stood in your apartment did it hit you.

You were alone.

For the first time in over a year you couldn't call one of them over to soothe that ache of loneliness.

For the first time in over a year, you had to relearn how to handle just being alone.

You usually showered at night. Washing away the grime of the day before settling into bed. But today was a new chapter. You woke up wanting to start it on a good note. Plus you went straight to bed after getting home so you still had a bit of airport funk on you.

It had been a week. One official since you had sent that text nailing the coffin shut. You had touched base with your friends who didn't bat an eye at you dating four men at once. They liked them, even if Simon scared them. You didn't give them the details of the breakup or the cause. You were pretty private in your problems and if you wanted relationship advice, you would seek an unbiased unopinion.

You had a good group of friends, but the moment you told them that you were well and truly heartbroken, they would insist the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Something you were nowhere near ready for.

So you needed to look like you had your shit together. You put on a dress that was feminine and, most importantly, comfy as fuck. An A-line floral frock paired with a light sweater and some white trainers. You knew a few of your friends would be stopping by for tea so you need to look like you were taking the separation well. Even if you were barely holding it together.

With makeup and perfume on, you started the early morning stroll to your shop.

You loved openings. Starting up the register and selecting the playlist for today. Picking out the essential oil to put in the diffuser even though you mostly stuck with a lavender and vanilla blend during the spring months.

For the morning you stuck with a Taylor Swift Instrumental playlist you had found initially for studying, but you liked the peaceful feeling it brought. Even when it covered the most gut wrenching songs.

You had started to collect the online orders that had accumulated over the last week. Sending out the e-mails alerting to your patrons that their orders were ready for pick up. Luckily you weren't set to receive a delivery until tomorrow.

It was eight and everything was set. Although not many people came to a bookstore at eight in the morning, it really didn't bother you opening up that early considering you were the only employee that was on the payroll. It gave you the possibility of making money, but mostly you spent the morning reading or writing.

You flipped the sign over from CLOSED to OPEN. Ready to start take on the day.

You had turned the kettle on in the back room when your friends had stopped by around lunch. You always said it was just tea, but you always had an array of snacks on standby for you all to munch on.

Meredith was complaining about what a dick the new client at the law firm was being. An absolute slime who had been married to his wife for almost twenty-five years before he decided to fuck his twenty-two year old assistant.

Tabitha didn't want to talk about work. To her, her career in tech was just a paycheck. She did what she needed to do and left when she was done.

You talked about the expo and how your book. Although neither of them really read, they had promised that they would read your book. You didn't hold your breath. They had reposted your posts as well as making ones of their owns in celebration of you. Words of praise about your dedication and hard work.

You realized that even though they couldn't give you the support you needed as readers, they supported you blindly. You could have written absolute garbage, but they would still support you.

You talked about how many people liked your book and wanted pictures and to sign their copies.

Then came the question you had been rehearsing since you had texted them a week ago. They both shared a look before Meredith finally asked.

"How are you holding up?" You gave a half-smile and a shrug. So perfectly rehearsed in your head you were ready to deliver your lies lines.

"I'm fine," you lied. "It was just fading so there isn't much of a difference, I guess." Not necessarily a lie. "We just wanted different things and were on different paths in life." Not a lie. "It's for the best." You weren't sure if that last one was a lie or not just yet.

They both shared a passing look before returning their gazes back to you. "You know you can come to us about this stuff." Tabitha's hand reached across the table, placing a hand on top of yours.

"It wasn't going to work out." You added. "Situations like that don't and I should have known better."

"A situation?" Meredith asked. "When have you ever called it a situation?"

"It always was one."

"I love you enough to call bullshit." She raised her eyebrow at you, crossing her arms over her chest. "You loved them and you need to stop pretending this is easy."

"You're a divorce lawyer, Mere," You reminded. "You see marriages fall apart every day."

"I do. I get to see from across the table how a woman is still willing to take her cheating arse of a husband back. So the fact that you went from on cloud nine with all of them to not even talking about the break up is concerning to say the least."

"Tabitha," you looked at your only ally left. "A little back up would be nice."

"I'm with her on this one." She confirmed. "You loved them. Not that I cared, but if you weren't talking about books or the shop, you were talking about them. What you did, where you went. How they fucked you."

"I think I'll miss that part the most." Mere sighed. "I lived vicariously through you."

"You know you could actually date people." Tabitha suggested.

"I'd rather live with chronic carpal tunnel than a man." You almost choked on your tea. If you were wearing pearls you would have used the comedic relief of clutching them to break the awkwardness of the current topic of conversation.

"That should be put on a t-shirt." You suggested

"I wouldn't mind it on a welcome mat to be honest." Tabitha added.

"But in all seriousness, cut this bullshit." Meredith gave you an sympathetic smile. "We're here. Good, bad and ugly."

You returned her smile. "I know."

You had closed up shop for the evening. Your lunch had gone longer than expected so now you were left doing the dishes and clean up during closing. You were setting the last cup on the drying rack when you heard the front door chime.

Shit.

You must have forgotten to lock the door when you turned the sign.

“I’m sorry!” You apologized, making your way out of the back break area and to the front of the store. “We’re-”

“Closed.” He said, locking the door behind him. “I saw the sign.”

[batshit-auspol]

So a bit of background first for our international followers: Clive Palmer is one of Australia's many mining billionaires who like to meddle in our country's politics, and as such he is utterly despised by all of Australia.

Picture for context:

He is most commonly known online by the title "Fatty McFuckhead", (problematic as it may be) because he tried to sue a youtuber for $500,000 for calling him that - and he lost. So the name stuck.

Up until his most recent foray into parliament, the legally certified Fuckhead was best known for his batshit business ventures, such as attempting to build "The Titanic 2" (failed) and trying to build a dinosaur theme park (also failed, but at least nobody got eaten by a T-Rex in this one).

For a very long time Clive played the role of sugar daddy to Australia's largest conservative party, the ironically named Liberal Party, until they had a falling out in 2012 after Clive claimed there was too much money influencing politics (lol), at which point he started his own party, days after saying he totally quit and wasn't fired and he only left because he didn't want to be a distraction.

His initial run at parliament was actually kinda successful, with Palmer's group winning 4 seats, plus a member from the "Motoring Enthusiasts Party" joined them too after accidentally getting elected and not knowing what the fuck to do.

Despite this initial success however, Palmer's party (which ran on basically no platform other than "I'm rich") hit an iceberg (titanic 2 achieved) and seven elected state and federal politicians quit within the first year.

By the time the next federal election rolled around, only one Palmer party candidate was still running for re-election. The most successful of this group - Jaquie Lambie - quit to sit as an independant and is still in parliament today.

Here she is with a painting of herself strangling Clive (she sells signed copies of this)

And here the senator is posting about liking sausage:

Anyway, we're getting to the point: which is the yellow posters. By the 2016 election, just two years after forming, the party was in complete freefall. It won just 0.01% of the vote at their second election, and it was announced shortly after that Clive was quitting politics and the party was being shut down. Australia breathed a sigh of relief.

It was, of course, short lived.

Clive, in desperate need of attention, restarted the party for the 2019 election, fielding candidates in every seat and spending $60 million in advertising in an attempt to win votes.

Every single candidate lost.

It was in this campaign however that Australia really started to fall out of love with Palmer, because most of that $60 million went towards putting up the world's least compelling marketing billboards on almost every single free space in the country.

For a good six months this was basically the only thing you would see in Australia if you went outside:

Clearly Graphic design is his passion. And yes, the genius did just straight up try and copy Trump's homework while changing a few words, hoping nobody would notice.

Very quickly these all got vandalised and it seemed the ad companies didn't care enough to replace them.

We could go on posting examples, there are thousands, but the best is definitely the one Ikea put up shortly after Clive lost the election:

In 2022, Clive's party contested the election AGAIN, this time also opting to send millions on spam text messages to every person in Australia begging for people to vote for him, as well as buying almost every youtube ad for a year, at the cost of $100 million.

He won a whopping one seat.

During this election Clive ran on an anti-lockdown, anti-vax platform with the slogan "freedom, freedom, freedom". That message, however, was slightly undermined when his goons, dressed in 'Freedom!' shirts, made national news for trying to beat up a protester who turned up at a rally dressed as an annoying text message, shouting "pay your workers" at Clive.

As if that wasn't bad enough, at another rally Clive knocked himself unconscious while trying to jump up on stage, and then a few weeks later was rushed to hospital with covid, while his anti-vax ads were still in regular rotation on TV, at which point it was also leaked to the press that Palmer had been alledgedly trying to buy Hitler's car.

Utterly humiliated, the party deregistered again shortly after the election.

Can't wait until he runs again in 2025.

Anyway, on the other "Clive tweeting Miss Kobayashi's Dragon" thing, we have no idea what that means but here's a screencap:

[tired-biscuit]

I licked it so it’s mine

pairing: stepbrother!yuuji/fem!reader

premise: After a long day of work, you decide to make use of the empty house by having some drinks and a movie night with your older stepbrother. Eventually, one drink turns into two, two become three, and so on. As the buzz of the alcohol progressively fills you with more and more courage, interesting things commence.

cw: 18+ MDNI. stepcest, ‘in the flurry of the moment’ setting, no curses AU, characters are in their 20s, intoxication, dubcon, implied corruption, coersion and pressuring from reader, descriptions of size difference, manhandling and roughness — poor yuuji gets a little too into it in the end.

wc: 6.7k

divider credit: @/adornedwithlight

———

Your big stepbrother Yuuji is likeable. He always has been.

To be fair, what is there not to like? When it comes to his looks, Yuuji is tall, handsome, a proud owner of a pair of pretty honey-coloured eyes that make him resemble a puppy, and an even prettier smile. Every summer, his skin gets this wonderful, almost golden tan that makes him outright glow from within, and his face gets sun-kissed, causing his already rosy cheeks to get dotted with tiny, barely visible freckles that gather under his eyes and only enhance his cuteness.

However, after living with him for so long, you’ve since learned that he rarely actually pays attention to his appearance, much less dresses to impress.

After all, Yuuji is a simple man. He does not care about clothes besides the level of comfort they provide, and yet he still somehow manages to achieve victory. Catching girls checking him out when he’s in nothing but his trusty pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt is a common occurrence. Even listening to flustered whispers and giggles has turned into a regular thing at this point.

On top of all that, he’s also nice. Kind and open and warm – you could use so many more positive words to describe your stepbrother’s wonderful personality, but you’re pretty sure that they’d never do it justice. Perhaps the only bad thing you could say about him is that he’s too nice. Too helpful and giving.

Especially towards the people who don’t deserve it.

And as you watch him from the corner of your eye now, hanging out at the park and licking the ice cream that he’d treated you to as a reward for beating him in his favourite video game, you try to consider yourself as one of the people who do deserve his everlasting kindness. Who do deserve to be treated nicely by him, and to hear the laughter in his voice, and to accept his almost naive generosity.

It’s a nice day out today. The wooden park bench that you’re sitting on currently is warm from the setting sun that still filters through the leaves above your heads. Small, moving patches of light and shadow linger everywhere, causing you to stare, almost mesmerized, as some of them lazily continue to dance across your big brother’s face.

Yuuji’s arms are splayed wide open and draped on either side of the worn backrest that you’re both leaning against. He’s finished his ice cream ages ago, so now he’s got his legs outstretched and his head angled up towards the sky, enjoying the peaceful tranquility that this year’s summer brings. 

There are quite a few people out and about in the park during this time of day – most of them joggers and dog walkers that are using the slightly cooler temperatures to their benefit – but if you listen closely, you can make out distant shouting and laughter coming from a group of children who are occupying the playground that’s on the other side of the trees.

The sound makes you feel kind of old, so you zero in on your sandals to keep yourself busy.

“Remember when you used to scream like that?”

“What?” 

When you turn your head to the side again, Yuuji’s gaze looks expectant.

“Back when we were kids,” he explains, jerking his chin towards the direction of the playground. “You got all shrieky and high-pitched whenever it was my turn to chase you, remember? Made you sound like a deflating balloon just by running in your direction.”

“Oh!” You take another lick of your ice cream, fully flattening the scoop before sinking your teeth into the edge of the cone. The scent of strawberries fills your nose in an instant. “In my defense, that probably happened because I didn’t like playing tag with you all that much.” 

He quirks an eyebrow at this, intrigued. “How so?”

“Well, for starters, your legs were longer than mine, which made you catch up so fast that it wasn’t fun for me anymore. Aaand your hands were also always sticky for some reason,” you reply, still chewing on the wafer. “It was gross.”

“Wow, okay.” He rolls his eyes but it immediately gets followed by a brief chuckle that escapes his lips. “Excuse me for trying to be a little bit sentimental with my clean freak of a baby sister.”

“I’m normal… You’re just nasty,” you fire back, smiling when he goes to playfully shove you.

His hand is warm when it lands on your shoulder; so warm, in fact, that you can feel the rise in temperature even through the sleeve of the thin, cropped T-shirt that you’ve put on this morning. 

It doesn’t take you by surprise. For as long as you’ve known him, Yuuji has been one to have blood as hot as molten lava running through his veins. You’re unsure how he survives it whenever the weather is scorching hot, like today for example – August has always proved to be a bitch whenever it comes to heat – but so far he seems to be doing just fine.

And while it may be weird to some, him being hot-blooded is the reason why you sometimes like to drag him into your bed during the winter months, when it’s cold and you come back home from work feeling like your toes have turned half-frozen in your shoes. Besides being provided with good company, he’s also like your own personal heater.

And that’s it. There’s nothing else to it; how could it be when he’s your stepbrother, for crying out loud! You grew up together and have lived under the same roof for years. He’s walked into your room just to leave the lights on and the door open so many times. You’ve endured his godawful Fortnite phase and have seen him be at his worst just as he did with you. The only feelings that you harbour for him are strictly platonic. 

You’re both pretty set on that.

“I should take that ice cream from ya as a form of punishment for being so mean to me,” said stepbrother teases now, pulling you back from your thoughts. When you look up at him, he’s grinning like a little boy. From ear to ear and in a way that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Cute.

“Nu-uh,” you respond, allowing the evidently distrustful tone to lace your voice. “I licked it so it’s mine.”

“Tsch.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Like that’s ever been an issue before. C’mon, give.” 

“It is for me because unlike you, I’m not- Hey!” Before you can finish your sentence, he swipes the ice cream from your hand, successfully stealing it right in front of your nose.

You glare at him now, brow slightly furrowed in annoyance, as Yuuji proceeds to lick the melting sweet with exaggerated delight. Since whatever was left of the scoop sank deeper into the cone, you realize that you’re unexpectedly intrigued by the fact that he needs to push his tongue out a little more to get to it. 

And he does; of course he does. He twirls it across the flat, creamy surface, and it’s not long before the inside of his mouth is coated in milky pink and there’s a hum of overly satisfied approval sounding from the back of his throat.

You’re unsure how to feel about the entire thing, but you definitely don’t dwell on it.

“Mmm,” he purrs, squeezing his eyes shut. He even makes sure to go as far as to smack his lips. “Mmm-mmm-mm! So good.”

For whatever reason, you feel your stomach do a weird spin as you listen to the sounds he’s making now. It’s like there’s an instant flash of heat searing through your body, similar to the pesky one that you get in the middle of the night when you’re hormonal and on your period, but before you can even properly acknowledge it, it’s gone as fast as it came.

“Again: you’re so gross,” you manage to say with a huff that’s supposed to be disapproving but doesn’t sound like that at all. The shake of your head that you add to the jab also feels somewhat unnatural. Every one of your mannerisms does, actually.

Yuuji, seemingly blissfully ignorant of your inner turmoil, laughs before he takes a giant bite out of the side of the cone and finally hands it back to you.

“Hey, at least my hands ain’t sticky this time.”

———

The house is empty when you come back home that evening.

This too is not much of a surprise, really. Your parents have been gone for the last couple of days, enjoying their yearly vacation to the seaside that neither you nor Yuuji could attend this time because of your work schedules. 

So while your mom and his dad are basking in the sun and drinking sugary cocktails, you’re waking up at six in the morning every day to make it to your dull desk job in time, and he’s stuck flipping burgers at McDonalds and honing his social skills in the drive-through booth for eight hours every day.

Poor, poor you.

“Did you see the drinks they’re having over there? Gosh,” Yuuji grumbles on this exact topic as he throws himself onto the couch and flicks the TV on. His expression looks mildly conflicted at the list of movies he’s being offered by the streaming service you’re both leeching off of, but it eases back into neutral as soon as he rests his feet atop the coffee table and crosses his ankles. “They even had those fancy umbrellas on the top and everythin’.”

“There, there,” you say, quickly patting his knee before sitting down beside him. You’re not sure why, but you pay extra attention to the small sliver of distance that you keep between his leg and your own now. The feeling from earlier didn’t fully go away yet, so touching him or him touching you still feels kind of odd.

Meanwhile, Yuuji doesn’t seem to acknowledge it at all, because now he’s resting his head against your shoulder, invading your personal space whilst he pouts.

The action is nothing unusual for him – it’s normal, he does it all the time – and yet you still swallow thickly, trying to ignore the sudden hyper awareness. 

“What is it now, you big baby?” you manage to muster out, taking the remote from him.

“Eh… It’s nothing,” he says.

“Aha,” you say.

“Well… It’s just that I want nachos and cocktails with fancy umbrellas, too!” he bristles at your prodding, pressing the side of his face even further into your shoulder. His hair tickles your cheek because of it.

“We have nachos at home,” you utter, trying to avoid the ticklish sensation.

“Yeah. Shitty tortilla chips that come in a bag, with a side of tasteless dip from the fridge,” he quips. “Yum.”

You stifle your laughter. He’s making such a big deal out of a silly thing like nachos. “I’m pretty sure they all come in a bag, Yuu… Come to think of it, theirs are probably stored in one of those big, wholesale bags that most food places get.”

“Well, I want the wholesale ones, then.”

“You’re pretty set on this, huh?”

He just gives you a look.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you ramble, pulling back just enough to make him lift his head and look at you properly. “How about… we try to make semi-decent nachos and cocktails with what we have, and have ourselves a little movie night since we’re both off work tomorrow and we definitely deserve it after all the pain and suffering we’re going through?”

Yuuji muses. “All you do at your job is sit behind a desk all day.”

You feel your eyes narrow. “So?”

“So,” he says, sounding smug. “I’d hardly call that pain and suffering.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you chide. “I wasn’t aware that your job also consisted of crawling underneath barbed wire and coming face to face with excruciating death between all those burgers you flip.”

He pokes you in the side for the insult. After jumping a little bit at the ticklish sensation, you make sure to immediately return the favour.

“Do you want those cocktails or not, Ronald McDonald?”

Yuuji stretches his arms above his head and yawns before he gets ready to stand up. “Yeah, yeah… Let’s make ‘em fancy.”

He follows you into the kitchen then, where you both work to recreate the vacation food and drinks to the best of your – and your pantry’s – capabilities. 

The nachos end up being surprisingly decent after you sprinkle some shredded cheese on top and give them a spin in the microwave. The cocktails, on the other hand, are a mixture of cheap wine from the corner store and coke, adorned with pieces of sliced pineapple at the top because you sadly ran out of cute paper umbrellas, much to Yuuji’s disappointment.

Though in the end, everything works out just fine.

You have yourselves a nice, perhaps you could even call it relaxing kind of evening. You change into your comfortable pyjama shorts and tank top, he gets rid of his T-shirt because he prefers being shirtless during the summer, and you play a couple rounds of his favourite game again; all of which you lose because Yuuji decides that he isn’t holding back this time. Afterwards, you watch a movie that isn’t all that good necessarily, but isn’t half bad either, and take rather hefty sips of your makeshift cocktails.

By the time the credits start to roll, you’re both feeling a little buzzed and warm in the face. Neither of you feels like calling it a night just yet, though – being off work the next day at the same time happens so rarely, after all – so you decide on watching something equally as uneventful and drinking some more.

So that is how both yourself and Yuuji end up drinking more than you’d initially planned. The alcohol becomes easier to swallow down when you’ve already numbed out your taste buds and have adapted them to the cheap, shitty wine flavour. It even makes the pineapple slices look cool.

And now you’re both drunk. Not shitfaced, per se, but definitely more than tipsy. Enough that it’s making your vision a little bit blurry around the edges, your limbs soft and pliant, and your mind fuzzy. Enough that it’s making you feel like you could do just about anything you’d set your mind to.

You’re both giggling like morons as you sit cross-legged and face each other on the couch. He’s desperately trying to tell you a story about one of his co-workers, who, according to him, is supposed to be very weird, but he keeps on slurring his words and keeps on losing track so often that it’s making the entire thing outright incomprehensive.

“Dude-” Your voice falters as yet another set of giggles pushes its way out. Goddamn alcohol. “You have got to stop laughing and tell me whatever it is you want to tell me about this weirdo, because if you don’t, I swear to god that I’m going to fucking lose my shit.”

“Listen… Jus’ listen-” 

“I am listening, you dumbass!” you interrupt, reaching over to flick his forehead. He flinches at the action.

“No, but like,” he mumbles now, rubbing the aching spot. “I want to tell you, but at the same time… I kind of don’t.”

This instantly succeeds in sparking your interest. There’s something he’s unsure about telling you? How curious; you tell each other everything!

You lean forward slightly, resting your elbows on your knees. “How so?”

Yuuji’s eyes flicker towards the television for a quick second. The movie is still playing – it bathes half of his face with light and the other half in shadows. 

Much to your bafflement, he sheepishly bites his lip before he says, “‘Cause it’s a secret.”

“A secret? Really?” You groan as you grab the small decorative pillow just so that you can throw it his way. Despite his intoxicated state, he’s still rather quick to deflect it. It lands on the ground soundlessly.

“What was that for?” he asks now, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, I dunno,” you say, bristling. “Did it maybe ever cross your mind that telling me that is only gonna make me want to hear it more?”

“I mean,” he says, scratching the back of his head and shrugging. “I guess…?”

You give him a pointed glare. “You know how much I love secrets, Yuu!”

“I know.”

“Then tell me!”

“No.”

You pout in answer, clearly unsatisfied.

Yuuji looks at you, his expression slipping into something that’s a bit more sincere and apologetic. He watches as you continue to avoid eye contact and push out your bottom lip, clearly trying to appear upset as much as you possibly can in order to get him to change his mind.

Sooner or later, it ends up working.

A person like him is so giving… Who is he to ever tell you no?

“Oh, fine,” he says, sighing with defeat. “Just pinky promise that you won’t tell anyone, okay?”

Your grin is pleasantly lazy because of the alcohol that’s still coursing your veins as you chirp, “Of course.”

He hooks your pinkies together and shakes them from side to side lightly as if it’ll help solidify the promise better.

“So, what’s the secret?” you ask when you pull your hand back and use it to support your cheek.

After a short moment of silence, he finally forces himself to blurt out, “My co-worker, he, uh… He thinks you’re hot.”

You stare at him, arching one eyebrow. “Wait, that’s it?”

Yuuji can feel his entire face tingling with heat now. The blush that steadily continues to bloom makes his skin slightly itchy, but he refrains from scratching it. “Yeah, that’s it.”

You watch him closely. 

“What?” he inquires, not liking the fact that you aren’t saying anything. The flush of red has crept down to his neck now.

“You’re lying,” you reply at long last, expression blank.

He sputters when he inhales a sharp breath, ready to defend himself. “Am not!”

You throw another pillow at him. He avoids this one, too. “Are too!”

“Stop throwing stuff at me!”

“I will, if you tell me the secret!”

“I already did!”

“The actual secret, dumbass!”

“Fine… Fine! Ugh,” he groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He also said that, umm…”

You enthusiastically gesture at him to continue when his voice fades into nothing again. Curiosity is threatening to eat you alive at this point. “Yes? He said what?”

“He said-” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows thickly. “He basically told me that if you were his stepsister, that he would’ve been all over you ages ago. Or whatever.”

You stare at him once more. He stares right back.

“What?” he asks again, this time slightly more nervous. His pupils are huge and the blush is starting to make him sweat. “What is it?”

After a moment that seems like forever, you repeat, “...That’s it?”

Yuuji feels like his heart has dropped to his ass. “What d’you mean that’s it?!”

“Exactly what I said,” you say, shrugging. “Your co-worker has a ‘Oh no, stepbro, I’m stuck’ fantasy. So what?”

“I-” Yuuji’s eyebrows draw so tightly together until there’s a small v etched between them. He pauses for a long time before he says, “Don’t you think that’s weird, though?”

“Not really.” You take another small sip from your glass and place it back onto the coffee table. “I mean, have you never noticed how popular it is in porn? Lots of people are into that kind of stuff.”

“N-no…” He stutters, somehow succeeding in turning even redder in the face. “I don’t-”

“Watch porn?” you offer quickly, already rolling your eyes.

“Not porn like that,” he quips, suddenly sounding uncharacteristically snippy. 

You chuckle at the tone he uses, attempting to tame the upward curl of your lips. Things are getting interesting and dirty – something you don’t get to encounter a lot whenever it comes to golden boy over here. “Well, what kind of porn do you watch, then?”

Oh, that is very bold. If it weren’t for the liquid courage, you doubt you’d dare ask the question. But it’s out in the open now.

Hanging in the tense air that’s between you two. Waiting. Preying.

“Not the stepsister kind,” he says in a low mutter, surprising you that he even chose to answer. “I’m not into that.”

You can’t help but let the smile show now. “How can you know if you’ve never seen it?”

Yuuji gawks before letting out a nervous laugh. “...What?”

“I said,” you repeat, leaning ever so slightly closer. Enough to make him feel on edge, but not enough to scare him away. “How can you know that you’re not into it-” There’s another pause, another closing of distance. His freckles are visible now. “If you’ve never seen it? Hmm?”

“I just-” He tenses up when your knee bumps into his. The short moment of contact is electrifying for some reason; it jumpstarts his heart into a far quicker rhythm. “I just, uh, do.”

You look him directly in his sweet honey eyes. “Yeah?”

And he immediately rushes to break eye contact. “Yeah.”

“You know,” you trail off innocently, patting his knee this time instead of ‘accidentally’ bumping it. Unlike before, though, your hand remains on his leg. “For someone who swears up and down to not be into it… You really don’t sound so sure about it to me.”

“Well, I am,” he protests in a heartbeat, however the bite that’s supposed to be in the statement isn’t quite there. 

The reason behind it might be because he’s quite tipsy and can’t bring himself to be firm with you. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because he’s staring at his lap when he says it; right at the spot where you’re still touching him.

Your hand feels so warm as it sits on his thigh. And pleasant. 

He doesn’t exactly… want it to go away.

You watch as he huffs in defeat and shakes his head with evident frustration the thought must have evoked. It causes a giggle to bubble up your throat from how entertained you are. You don’t even try to stop it this time.

He could tell you off, call you names, push you away, whatever… But he doesn’t. 

No, he’s just too good of a big brother.

So you allow the flat of your palms to rest on both of his knees now. Still careful, though not nearly as much as before. Meanwhile, your own knees dig into the softness of the couch as you readjust your weight forward so that you can lift yourself just enough to be eye level with him.

Guilty anticipation pools inside his gut and turns him frazzled when you use the momentum to invade his personal space even further. All of a sudden, you find yourself nose to nose with your cutesy stepbrother. Chest to chest. So close that he can feel the heat of your breath on his lips and smell the fading scent of your perfume mixing with thin layers of sweat and sunscreen. 

“Prove it, then,” you say. Your voice could barely be considered above a whisper but the silence that follows after it is so loud.

Yuuji gulps from how unnerving this entire situation has become. Gulps. “Prove… Prove what?”

“Prove that you’re not into it.”

Thump, thump, thump! His heart is going wild. “How?”

“Watch it with me.” You move your hands upwards ever so slightly as you speak the words, but it’s not long before you’re sliding them all the way up to his thighs. 

They’re strong, his legs, and the muscles in them flex and harden underneath your touch, making the lines of his gorgeous, so profoundly male-like physique all the more defined. The hairs there are lighter in colour and they’re silky smooth. They tickle the tips of your fingers when you finally let them settle at the very edge of his gym shorts. 

Digging your nails into his skin just enough to make him jump a little, you add, “Please?”

God, you’re so drunk and… something else. Your pupils are huge; so big that Yuuji swears he can see himself in them, and the laugh you let out a moment later is girlish and kind of breathless. 

And he, well, he just looks so goddamn confused in response to it. Like a little puppy that’s been caught doing something naughty and bad. Big, round eyes, twitchy upper lip and everything.

“I, umm… I dunno,” he chokes out finally. He feels like coughing so that he can clear his throat, but he somehow manages to stifle the annoying sensation. “I just… I’m not so sure about that-”

“Pleeease, Yuuji,” you repeat, pushing, pushing, pushing. You even start pouting right at him as a means to get him to budge. “I wanna!”

Fuck.

The whine that’s appeared in your voice now makes his cock involuntarily twitch. What the actual fuck, his dick is responding to you – his baby sister. Little by little, blood is rushing south; right below his waistline until he can feel warmth slowly taking over every inch of his lower half. He tries to make it stop, to put an end to it, to slow it down at the very least, but his efforts prove to be completely useless.

His throat feels scratchy and dry now from not allowing himself to cough, and his skin feels too tight on his face. It makes him rasp as he says, “You, uh, you wanna?”

“Mhmm,” you purr in a mere instant, squeezing his thighs again just the tiniest bit. Goddammit, since when did those parts start feeling so fucking sensitive? “Wanna… wanna see you start sweating a little when you realize that your dick is getting hard over dirty shit like stepcest, you know? Wanna prove you wrong.”

A second twitch, a second rush of blood. Yuuji’s stomach spins and tightens with anxiety. His nerves go haywire. With each passing second, he can feel his cock getting heavier in his shorts. Can feel pre-cum turning the front of his underwear more and more sticky. Can feel his mind going dizzy with quick-paced lust.

You’re just so goddamn close. Staring right at him, with your tits almost on full display in that tiny thing you call a shirt, and with that infuriating, shit-eating smirk plastered on your lips. Kneeling right between his legs, talking about stepbrothers fucking stepsisters, allowing your breaths to intermingle as if it’s no big deal.

But that’s not all. Besides being too close for comfort, he’s also pretty sure that you’re quietly hinting at the possibility of something happening tonight, like letting him stuff your pussy with his cock. Hell, forget stuffing – even just seeing it would be nice. 

Not that he’s ever thought about laying eyes on his sister’s cunt, much less filling it, but now that this entire thing is unfolding in real time, before his very eyes, and he swears that he can feel the tips of your fingers subtly brushing against the ridge of his hard-on over his clothes… He doesn’t feel like refusing the idea necessarily, if it were to actually happen.

Fuuuck!

“It-it won’t,” Yuuji stammers in one last attempt at keeping his sense of morality, however all he does is end up fumbling over his own damn self like some pathetic loser. He’s so red in the face, it’s obvious now. “I, ah, I already told you-”

His sentence gets interrupted by a sudden kiss that you press right onto his still half-open mouth. 

You don’t know what exactly it is that compels you to do it, but here you are. Kissing your big brother. Latching yourself to him. Offering him things you shouldn’t.

Oh, here you are, all right.

The kiss itself is clumsy, rash, idiotic. Your teeth clash as you hurry forward to wrap your arms around his neck, and there’s a small, muffled noise – that terribly sounds like a squeal of excitement – escaping your lips when his big hands find your waist and he yanks you forward until you’re fully seated on his lap.

One second ago you were merely looking at each other, tip-toeing the line but never quite overstepping it, and now you’re grinding against one another like animals in heat, tangling tongues and tasting each other’s spit. Everything happens so fast and it’s all based on pure instinct and executed with zero thinking, because if it happened any other way, you’d surely regret it.

He tastes like pineapple and the lousy chewing gum that he bought back at the corner store earlier in the afternoon but spat out pretty soon after. You shouldn’t find the odd combination of flavours that good, you know this, but right now the inside of his mouth tastes like sweet, sweet heaven.

And possible release.

“Fuck, Yuu,” you pant between messy kisses, running your fingers along his undercut. “You’re so hard, look… Proves me right, mm?”

Yuuji wants to tell you to shut up, to stop saying things like that, to stop making him feel both so guilty and turned on at the same time because it’s complicated and he doesn’t fucking know what to make of it.

But all he ends up saying instead is, “Yeah...”

Because, as always, he’s simply too good of a big brother. Too good to tell you no.

Especially when you’re right.

And even if your big brother’s cock is hiding underneath several layers of clothing, you can still feel it pressing firmly between your legs now. Thick and heavy and in urgent need of some tender affection; a little sisterly love, if you will. It’s making you grow more and more expectant of what’s to come. There’s no space for shame left.

His size seems promising – at least judging by the feel of it. Each time you push your weight against him, circling your hips a little, he responds by pushing you down even further with the help of his hands on your hips; spreading your folds slightly apart and allowing the seam of your shorts to dig straight into your clit.

Your breathing grows laboured because of it. Slowly but surely, you’re becoming a hot mess of mm’s and ahh’s. And Yuuji, poor, sweet Yuuji, is nowhere near to being any better after he’s forced to hear all of it.

He’s sweating like crazy. Is throbbing between his legs. Is trying to tame his pulse but it just keeps on hammering and ringing inside his ears. The blush is making his entire face itch all over again and his clothes feel too tight on his body. What else is there?

Oh, even his heart feels like it’s jammed itself inside his throat when he pulls back just enough to break the string of saliva that’s bridging the narrow space between your mouths and asks, “You sure you wanna do this?”

“Just fuck me already, god,” you hiss in response. You’re so sexually frustrated that it’s making you pissy.

Neither of you has planned this nor expected this to happen, but you’ve both been feeling lonely, terribly single; are yearning to be touched. It’s been a while for the two of you, shit happens and people get too busy to enjoy the simpler pleasures in life, and you both consider the other to be attractive, so… why not?

Why not? Maybe because this entire thing could, quite possibly, be a disaster in the making.

Still, it doesn’t feel like a disaster when Yuuji’s hands wrap around your sides and slam you down on the couch. Doesn’t feel like a bad thing when he blindly hooks his fingers to the waistband of your shorts and you bring your legs closer to your chest and lift your hips a little so that he can tug them off easier.

Either he’s too impatient to wait or he did it by complete accident, but he manages to pull down your panties right along with your shorts. They’re both left dangling from your left ankle now, hanging uselessly and completely forgotten because he’s too busy trying to push himself inside you.

His back is hunched and his rosy lips are parted as he sucks in and exhales sharp breaths above you. They fan your forehead, cooling the sweat that’s gathered there, only causing you to shiver. 

You press your foreheads together when you lift yourself slightly with the help of your elbows so that you can reach between you, tug his waistband low just enough to expose him and guide him inside you. He grits his teeth, baring them like a threatened animal as soon as your fingers curl around the base of his cock, mindlessly stroking the impressive length, spreading the pre-cum that’s gathered at the tip without any sense of patience.

Neither of you looks into each other’s eyes; all of your attention is aimed at the spot where you almost connect. After all, his fat cockhead is bumping against your sticky pussy now, inconsistently gliding up and down and smearing arousal. Every time he teases your entrance, your breath hitches in the back of your throat and you cling onto him a little harder.

“Yuujiii,” you whine, teeth sinking into your bottom lip so harshly that you fear you might have drawn blood. He almost doesn’t recognize the sound of your voice. “What’re you waiting for?! Put it iiin!”

“Yeah… Y-yeah, okay,” he bites out, trying to stop the persistent flutter of a muscle in his cheek. His arms feel like giving in but the muscles in his biceps still flex and shudder with anxiety and anticipation when he finally presses in.

His cockhead pushes past the initial ring of muscle pretty effortlessly from how wet you’ve gotten from mere kissing and a little bit of grinding. Perhaps it’s the alcohol that’s making you so pliant and eager, but it’s easy to open your legs wider so that you can let in even more of him.

Yuuji feels dizzy; like the entire world is spinning. You’re underneath him, panting so loudly and you’re so warm inside, so accepting, so wet. Your pussy hugs him just right, walls squeezing around his girth, sucking him in further. The sensation makes him drop his entire weight right on top of your writhing body the second he allows himself to slowly rock into you and sink balls deep.

He hides his face into the crook of your neck as he begins to lazily thrust inside you, doing whatever feels best because he can’t possibly bring himself to form thoughts right now. In and out, the strokes are long, slow and deep. So deep, in fact, that they make you wince each time he hits the sweet spot that’s hiding inside.

You’ve ended up so close yet again; with your limbs intertwined and your bodies pressed tightly together that your shirt is crinkling between you. It rides up with the movement of his hips slamming against your own, exposing your stomach, making you stick to each other from how sweaty you’ve gotten.

“Nngh… You feel… s’good,” he grits out, quiet moaning already lacing his voice. His breathing has gotten so heavy that it’s creating moisture on the small patch of skin on your neck that he’s got his mouth pressed against. “Won’t last long… Ca-ah… Can’t.”

He sounds so fucking drunk as he continues to say pure nonsense into the side of your throat and keeps on pressing you into the softness of the couch. Not only on alcohol, but also on your pussy it seems. 

It makes him practically start pounding into you now. Abusing your tight little hole. He slips one arm underneath you and pulls you even closer so that he can steady himself a little bit, and wetness squelches between you as a result. Skin slaps against skin, breaths intermingle. His fingers tangle into your hair crudely – it hurts when he tugs at the roots even if you’re well aware that he doesn’t mean to.

He’s so big above you. So strong. So stupidly male. And he’s also gotten lost in the moment. For a second it makes you scared of him a little bit even if he’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met, a real proper marshmallow. And it doesn’t help that his cock is as big as the rest of him is; stretching you so deliciously, splitting you wide open, causing tears to prickle at the corners of your eyes even if the booze that’s coursing your veins is supposed to numb you out to a size like that.

“Yuuji, wa- fuck, wait…!” You cross your ankles at his waist in an attempt to slow him down, heels panically digging into his back dimples and toes curling. 

“N-no, I can’t, please… Don’t make me wait, please, please, please, c’mon,” he babbles, still not slowing down, not stopping. His eyes are half-closed and they show concern, but they’re also dark and foggy when he lifts his head just enough to look at you. “Just a lil’ more, yeah…? Yeah? Just a lil’... Ugh, keep still just a bit longer- I’m almost there. So… mmh… close.”

You try to fight against him, tugging on his hair and sinking your nails into his back, but all he does is endure it, not really caring much about your thrashing and turning. He’s got you caged underneath him, crying out his name, clawing raw red lines into his broad back. It’s all drunken breeding instinct and no brain as he uses your body like a toy, and the realization that you can do nothing but take it is terrifying as much as it is thrilling.

His pounding has turned borderline ruthless by now and in his urgency to cum, he’s pushed himself so deep inside you that you’re pretty sure he’s fucked his way straight into your goddamn womb. In his weak attempt to make you last until the end, he’s even started to messily rub irregular circles into your clit.

It makes a thin line of drool dribble down the corner of your mouth from how fucked out you’ve become in a mere fifteen minutes. The overstimulation is probably completely accidental, but it achieves the same result just the same. He outright forces the climax out of your body, and the second he feels you squeeze around him, abused pussy trying to milk him dry, he’s giving in, not resisting anymore, shooting his load inside you in an instant.

The groan he lets out is almost like a growl. He arches his back again, balls tightening, grip almost turning iron-like. You can feel the warmth of his cum as it fills you in steady waves of pleasure. 

You both stay still for a long while after that, trying to gather your senses, attempting to calm down your trembling. His cum is warm and sticky; tacky between your thighs. It starts to drip out of your hole by the time his cock softens enough to create more space. 

There’s just so much of it. A fuckload.

And he’s still breathing so hard. You both are.

“I’m so sorry… Fuck, I-” he rasps out. His mouth is so dry that he feels like he could chug an entire jug of water, but he pushes that need away for now in order to get a good look at you instead. “I just- I-”

Yuuji stops mid-sentence when he sees you push two of your fingers between your legs before bringing them up in front of your face again. He watches, eyelids heavy, as you spread them then, toying with the glimmery, cloudy white substance that’s gathered there until you gently push them inside your mouth, licking his release right off of your fingertips.

His jaw almost hits the floor. He’s so baffled by what he’s just seen that he barely registers the fact that his cock is trying to get hard again, throbbing against his thigh.

“What?” is all you say in response to the incredulous look that sits on his face now. Your voice is muffled from the way you keep your mouth stuffed full.

“I licked it so it’s mine.”

[shellshocklove]

brat! | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel is having a brat summer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes, reader wears a dress, heels and lipstick but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, manhandling, a little exhibitionism? fingering, choking, spitting, a little dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), cock worship, spanking, degradation (whore, slut), some sub space territory, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), creampie, one use of the word ‘daddy’, no use of y/n

a/n: this was fun! and naughtier than i thought it was gonna be 💀 i’ve never written a reader so far removed from my own personality lol and i’m kind of obsessed with how this turned out. anyways stream brat by charlie xcx and happy reading! <3

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Blitzes of red, green, and blue danced before your eyes. The beating in your temples in tune with the bass vibrating in your chest. Around you the faceless bodies moved in slow motion. The heat rose around you as the sweat clung to your skin.

You’re sure you’ve lost your friends. Well, not lost lost. They were in the dancing crowd somewhere. Behind you, the same ugly guy had been rubbing up against you for a minute too long. You knew because you’d tipped your head back once and his borderline bowl cut hair, polo shirt with deep sweat rings under his arms, and tan chinos, were not it.

His breath stank of tequila when he leaned into your ear, “Hey,” he slurred, “wanna get out of here?”

And that had been your cue to leave.

With a scoff, you turned around to get a good look at him. You’d sized him up, made a show of it, and laughed in his face. Then you pushed your way through the crowd, coming up for air by the bar.

The earlier buzz you’d been sailing on, had weaned off a long time ago. It had been last minute, you weren’t even going out tonight, just having dinner with your childhood friends while you were home for the summer. But then one of them had ordered shots for the table just as the last plate had been cleared, and soon you were at the club cruising on a couple of glasses of wine and a lousy shot. Not that it mattered, usually you ended up twirling some sorry man around your finger long enough to get yourself a couple of rounds, before you’d excuse yourself to the ladies’ room and leave with your friends.

Looking down the bar, you searched for tonight’s victim.

To your right a group of girls huddled around the edge, waiting for their own drinks by the looks of it.

Not them.

Down to your left, a boy with a face full of acne fumbled with his card as he paid for a round of beers. He didn’t even look old enough to be in here, but that wasn’t your problem. You had to hold back a laugh as you watched him struggle to figure out how to carry the five beers he’d ordered back to his friends. He ended up gathering them in a circle to wrap his hands around, and you’d seen this go wrong plenty of times to feel the pull of an amused smile on your lips.

When he’d vanished into the crowd, your eyes flicked back to the bar, to the man sitting there– and he was a man. Probably somewhere in his fifties you reckoned, but he looked gorgeous. A real dilf. Your interest was piqued.

You slid down the bar.

He didn’t look particularly amused where he sat at a bar stool, nursing a beer in his hands. Who sits at the bar in the club? He looked nice. Brown hair, dark jeans, and a grey t-shirt stretched deliciously over his chest. When you got closer you could see a flannel resting beside him on the bar.

Is this what older men wear to the club these days?

He didn’t seem to notice you as you sat down next to him – either that, or he ignored you. You kinda wished for the latter, it would make it more fun.

You gave him a few more minutes of silence, of your presence, to see if he’d say something to you. When he didn’t you asked him over the music, “Aren’t you gonna buy me a drink?”

You said it innocently, but like it was obvious and he hadn’t caught on yet. His head turned towards you, still unamused, but with his eyebrow raised.

Okay, you could work with that.

You didn’t say anything as he studied you, drank you in like you’d done to him from afar. You felt his gaze over your clinging dress, your bare shoulders, before they found your eyes.

Something tickled in your core, and you were reminded of how long it had been since you’d been properly fucked– fucked by someone who wasn’t some drunk guy at your college’s parties, but fucked by someone who knew what they were doing.

The man turned towards you; a smile tickling the corner of his mouth.

“Does that usually work f’you, sweetheart?”

You weren’t expecting his rebuttal, but you liked it. He wasn’t some boy who’d trip over himself for the privilege of being in the presence of you. The boys – they made it too easy – but this man would make you work for it.

Putting on your most saccharine smile you slid closer to him, “You looked so lonely over here– thought I’d keep you company.”

A scoffing laugh escaped him, and his head dipped, “’s that so?” His eyes found yours again.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you ignored his question, and brushed your heeled foot up the length of his calf.

“Ain’t ever been here before,” he kept his eyes on your face, his drawl pulling at the words and twisting up your insides.

“So, a virgin, huh?” you teased, and that seemed to amuse him.

“What– you’re here to pop my cherry?”

This time an amused smile pulled at your face. You liked this man. “Not without a drink first,” your foot slid down his calf, “what do you take me for?”

A bright sense of pride filled your chest when you made him laugh, filling you up with confidence.

“D’you want me to answer that?” he rebutted.

He didn’t say it with any malice, it was teasing and playful, and it pulled at the veil inside you. A genuine smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, “Probably not.”

“What can I getcha, then, sweetheart?”

“G&T?” you said, and bit down on your bottom lip coquettishly.

Turning away from you, the man got the attention of the bartender. You watched his profile, followed the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose. You decided then and there that your night was gonna end in this man’s bed.

“Sooo,” you sang, when you’d gotten your drink, “first time here, huh?” The man just nodded, before he sipped his beer.  

Not much of a talker, huh?

“You here alone, or? With the wife maybe?”

That pulled a laugh from him. “I’m here with my lil’ brother… bachelor party,” he shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten dragged in here, “he’s gettin’ married next month.”

“Ah,” you nodded and took a sip of your drink. “So, where are you heading next? A strip club?” you teased.

The man just shot you an unimpressed look, and you thought about how you’d never seen a man look so out of place, ever.

“What? The wife won’t let you?”

A sharp huff escaped him, “Ain’t got no wife no more,” he said matter-of-factly.

You took another sip of your drink to hide the smile from forming.

Bingo.

“I take it you’re a man who does what he wants, then?” you said it innocently, and subtly slid your hand over his knee. His eyes caught yours at the touch, and you swore you saw something change in them.

You’d hooked him now, all you had to do was reel him in.

He turned his body towards you – he did it slowly, like every muscle he moved had been calculated beforehand. Then he leaned in closer, his hot breath huffing against your ear.

“Takes one to know one, ain’t that right?”

Under your skin, you buzzed, your heart beating out of your chest at the new proximity. You had to stay cool, play it off, act unbothered. So, you pulled away slightly, and turned your head to meet his eyes.

“What?” he challenged with a raise of an eyebrow, “Ain’t used to people talkin’ back?”

When you didn’t say anything right away, a smug grin coated his lips, “Yeah, I know girls like you.”

“There’s no girls like me,” you argued back, his confidence both pissing you off, and turning you on at the same time.

“Oh, but there are– Spoiled daddy’s girls who ain’t had anyone tellin’ them no their whole life. They do what they want, and play with who they want– I know a brat when I see one.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as he pulled away, that infuriating smug grin not going anywhere. The worst part was that he was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“But you like that don’t you?” you challenged, “I bet you live in some sad house in a sleepy suburban cul-de-sac, go to the same boring job every day, and wish your wife never left you.”

A flash of hurt could be seen across his face as those last words left your lips, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far. A beat of silence passed between you, the buzzing beat of the club music keeping the tune of the tension building.

You were about to apologize when he finally spoke, “You’re a rude one, aren’t ya?”

His voice didn’t sound as hurt as you’d thought, and you realize he was playing your game. You almost had him.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you challenged, hammering the final nail in the coffin.

“That depends on you, sweetheart.”

Outside the club, Joel (the man had finally introduced himself) leaned against the bricks of the alley as you fished a cigarette from your purse. According to your phone, your uber would be there in ten minutes. The fresh air had sobered you up slightly, exchanging the buzzing alcohol in your veins with excitement.

You didn’t know what you were in for.

Over your skin, you felt his gaze roll over you, and you let him look. Let him study your body filling out your sheer, white, almost see-through dress. You didn’t offer him a cigarette; he’d have to ask for it himself, or take it, if he wanted a drag.

“So,” you took a drag of your cigarette, savoring the first tar-y breath, before exhaling through your nose, “where are you taking me?”

Joel shifted his weight against the bricks as his arms crossed over his wide chest. “Whatchu call it? My sad house?” he said, his voice bordering on cold if it wasn’t for the smug smile covering his features.

You gave him a sultry look as you stepped closer, crossing one heeled foot in front of the other, slowly.

“Mmm,” you hummed, as you tilted your head with an uninterested face, “Sounds fucking boring to me.” Your finger climbed up his chest, eyes traveling from his chest to his face. His stern face gave nothing away, as you took another drag of your cigarette and blew the smoke in his face.

Finally, he’d had enough. His large hand wrapped around your wrist, and tightened, before he turned you around and pushed you up against the wall. You let out an exaggerated huff as your body hit the bricks, your cigarette slipping from your fingers. He pushed himself up against you, and you couldn��t contain the satisfied grin on your face, pleased to have pushed his buttons enough to finally act.

“Oh, I’ll show you boring, brat.”

A rough hand danced up the side of your thigh and under the hem of your dress. Challenging him, you squirmed against the grip of his other hand around your wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, and he was so close now you felt his breath ghost over your lips. With a twist of your arm, he pinned it behind your back, Joel now completely in control, and a buzz of arousal spread through your body at the thought.

“You listen’ up now, and I’m only gonna say it once: you’re gonna do as I say, when I say it, and no talkin’ back, we clear?” His voice was stern, but his dark brown eyes gave him away; how they’d widened with lust, blown out and dark. Your panties already soaked at the thought of what he had in mind for you tonight.

“Yes,” you said playfully, biting down at your bottom lip through a smile.

“Yes, sir,” he corrected as his rough hand on your thigh slid closer and closer to the seam of your thong. “Good girls who do as they’re told get rewarded, you understand?”

You nodded, sucking in a breath as you felt his fingers brush over your clit lightly. He was testing you now, teasing you, and pushing your buttons. You felt like you were on fire, burning from arousal; it licked up your thighs and flickered bright in your core.

Where was that fucking uber?

“But you ain’t no good girl,” he snickered, sliding his hand past your panties, “teasin’ me– tryna provoke me,” he shook his head, and a slick sound of your arousal could be heard as he worked two thick fingers through your wet folds.  

His finger poked at your hole where it ached for him. The thick tension between you weighed heavy with arousal as Joel leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Imma have to punish you for that, baby, put you in your place.”

A gasp left your lips as he pressed two fingers inside. The stretch stung slightly, but you welcomed the pain, liked it. A satisfied grin blossomed over your face as he started moving his fingers. They felt so good inside of you, so thick, almost like a cock, and the way his palm rubbed against your clit– it gave you just enough stimulation to push you towards the edge of an orgasm.

“Look at you, slut,” his breath was hot as he whispered in your ear, “so desperate to get fucked.”

A strangled moan escaped your throat, and you couldn’t help but grind against his fingers to chase the pleasure he was giving you. The degrading words and humiliation only made you wetter. Joel couldn’t get any more perfect– so far, he'd played his part to the T.

“In your– fuck!” You moaned as the pad of his fingers brushed up against your g-spot. Just a little more now, and he’d have you coming on his fingers.

“Didn’t hear you, sweetheart, y’need to speak up,” he taunted, continuing the pace of his fingers.

“In your d-dreams, old man,” you tried to spit out, but the pleasure he gave you was taking over, making you stumble over your words.

Quickly, Joel withdrew his fingers, sliding them up the front of your cunt, giving your clit a slap, before he backed off completely. You gasped; face pulled tight in a disappointed frown.

“What the fuck!?”

And then he fucking laughed, fucking laughed at you.

“I already told you, sweetheart, only good girls get rewarded.”

He stepped closer again, his hand cupping your cheek while the other pressed the fingers coated in your arousal to your lips. “Clean up your mess, and we’ll see ‘bout that reward.”

Parting your lips, he stuffed his fingers inside your mouth. They tasted of you, a sweet-salty taste. You closed your lips around them, and sucked, letting your tongue tease around his fingers the way you’d tease his cock. “That’s it, good girl,” he grinned, and it sparked a small flame of pride in your chest.

When he was pleased with you, he slipped his fingers from your mouth. He let them glide over your lips, smearing your lipstick and coating your lips in your own saliva as a set of headlights illuminated the street. Then, he patted your cheek, nodding towards what you assumed was your uber as it rolled to a stop in front of you, “Go on, get in the uber.”

In the uber Joel was quiet, ignoring you as were forced to make small talk with the driver (you’d give him a bad review just for that). When you thought the small talk had been torture enough, Joel slid his hand up your thigh, resting his big palm right at the seam of your leg as he looked out the window. If your panties weren’t already soaked from what he’d done to you in the alleyway of the club, then they definitely were now as the anticipation only grew.

Joel’s house wasn’t sad at all. It was quaint, and suburban, but homey. Nice. No expensive designer furniture, but sturdy and of good quality either way. He had no rare art, but a decent amount of family photos and what looked like a child’s drawings. You stopped in the middle of the stairs to admire them. In one of them Joel looked as old as you were now, with a baby in his arms, in another he had his arm around the shoulders of another man who looked a lot like him, just with darker hair. His brother probably, the one getting married. The little baby was a little girl, and she grew up in front of you; birthday parties, first days of school, soccer uniforms. Your eyes landed on a photo of her in a graduation cap with Joel and the other man at her side, grinning wide with a college diploma in her hands. This man wasn’t who you’d thought. He had a family– a daughter your age. The wall of memories squeezed at your heart, made something inside you always kept hidden break forth–

“You comin’?”

Joel waited at the top of the stairs for you, his face pulled into a confused frown. You skipped up the stairs, happy to have left your heels by his door. When you got to the top, you pushed at his chest, “Just looking at your sad things.” With a roll of his eyes, he led you to his bedroom.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, but his voice was distant, the bite from the club was gone.

It felt like the perfect opportunity to play with him.

“No,” you blinked innocently, your eyes wide as you watched him unbutton his green flannel, “you’ll have to make me.”

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh, “I’m serious, sweetheart, I need to talk to you first.”

Talk?

“You can’t get it up, is that it? You’re too old?” you teased but sat down at the bed either way.

“You really are mean, aren’t ya?” His laugh sounded like a surrender. “A man wantin’ to be a gentleman and establish boundaries before he ruins her, and this is what he gets?”

Shaking his head, he walked closer, and cupped your head in his hands. “I plan on bein’ rough with ya, sweetheart, and I think that’s what you want too, isn’t it? Get fucked so hard you can’t think?” You nodded your head in his arms, the velvet bass of his voice going straight to your core.

“Listen’ closely– if I do anythin’ you don’t like, you say ‘red’ and we stop, and if you can’t speak then you pinch me, you hear?”

You nodded again.

“Words, baby, need y’to say it with that pretty voice.” His thumbs brushed over your cheek.

You nodded again, “Yes, sir… if I want you to stop, I say ‘red’, or pinch you.”

“Good girl,” he praised, “Anythin’ else?”

“Um…” Your front teeth caught on your bottom lip, “I’m on birth control– you can come inside me if you want.”

A noise rumbled in Joel’s chest. “Such a naughty girl,” his thumb brushed over the plump of your lips, “letting a stranger come inside her, huh?”

You nodded again, a wicked smile breaking against his thumb before you opened your mouth, and bit down. Not hard, just enough to pull a reaction from him, and you did.

Like a switch, the warm whiskey eyes faded into a deep black. The grip on your chin slid downwards, where it found your neck. He didn’t squeeze, but his grip wasn’t gentle either, holding you in place like a warning.

“You ought to treat me with more respect, brat…” he spat, his thumb digging into the column of your neck, “Apologize for your rude behavior.”

Against his hand, you shook your head to the best of your abilities, his grip tightening with your movement. You wished he’d choke you properly, make your head all fuzzy and empty– filled with nothing except for him.

“No.”

His face turned to stone above you, and you felt a giddiness flutter in your stomach.

 He didn’t like that.  

In one quick motion his hand was ripped from your throat as he stepped away. He didn’t look at you as he sighed, his hands falling to his belt buckle, sharp metal clinking.

Taking advantage of the moment, you admired the man before you. How big and broad he was. How his t-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest, biceps bulging against the woven fabric. You studied his hands as they fiddled with his buckle, thought about how good they’d felt inside you earlier, the pleasurable sting as they’d stretched you out.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, voice cold.

When you didn’t move, he took matters into his own hands.

“Get. On. Your. Fuckin’. Knees.”

His grip around your wrist was tight, as he pushed you down. The hardwood floor dug into your knees as he manhandled you, sure to bruise tomorrow. He stood his ground in front of you, legs slightly parted as you were now eye level with his inviting bulge. He was big, and you felt your eyes widen. Even hidden away in his jeans you could see it, see the length of his hard cock strain against his thigh – it made your mouth water as you squeezed your thighs together.

“Look me in the eyes,” he told you, and your eyes flicked upwards – obedient for once. “Eyes up here at all times– Don’t you fuckin’ dare look away.”

He made it hard to do as he’d ordered, popping the button on his jeans, and pulling the zipper down. You wanted to see his cock, touch it, feel it inside you. He couldn’t possibly expect you to not look when it was right there.

"Disobedient slut.” 

The slap came quicker than the stolen glance, and your hand came up to graze your cheek on pure instinct. It stung under your palm, like a thousand little knives.

“What did I jus’ say?” He spat out the question, his hand gripping your chin to force eye contact.

“Look away?” you tried, your voice rising an octave.

“Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he sighed, leaning closer, “I ain’t wanna hear any more of your fuckin’ attitude.”

His grip tightened on your chin and your mouth dropped open by itself, “Open your mouth– that’s it… wider, just like that.”

Then he spat, right into your mouth.

You flinched at the suddenness of it, but Joel’s grip on your chin held you still– kept your mouth open, as you felt his spit slide further and further into your throat. You had a feeling you shouldn’t swallow until he told you, so you didn’t, your head pliant in his hand as you let him study you. A wide grin spread across his face as he moved your head from one side to the other, his rough fingers denting into your skin as you waited for your next command.

“Swallow, brat.”

He let go of your face, and you closed your mouth, swallowing down his spit with an audible gulp. “Good girl,” he muttered and stood tall, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

The rough sound of denim against skin filled your ears as he freed himself. You were on your best behavior now, gathering your hands in your lap, sitting pretty for him as you locked eyes with him coquettishly.

“That’s better,” he said, “Actin’ like a proper good girl now,” he praised.

It took everything in you not to look, as he stepped closer.

With a fist tight around his cock, he brought the head to your mouth. He tapped it on your lips, smearing the precum beading at the tip and ruined your lipstick.

You wanted to taste him so badly, but he couldn’t know that. Pinching your lips together, you shook your head with wide coquettish eyes. His eyebrows pinched together in a frown, eyes narrowing at you as he pushed his cock against your lips.

“Open that pretty fuckin’ mouth, f’me,” he ordered.

Pretty. He called you pretty, and it was enough for you, you gathered, and stretched your mouth open for him.

“That’s it, wider.”

You twitched in surprise as he slapped the length against your tongue. It was heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his precum mixing with your saliva as he rubbed the head over your tongue, in and out, in and out – coating his big cock in your saliva, “just like that, baby, get it nice ‘nd wet.”

Closing your lips around the mushroom tip, you ran your tongue around it in circles, teasing the underside and the slit, before you tipped your head back. His cock bobbed in front of you obscenely, a frown formed on his face again and you knew he was about to tell you off.

Gathering a blob of saliva in your mouth, you spat on his cock instead. A low humming laugh rumbled from Joel’s chest, as he collected your spit and rubbed it in over his shaft in slow strokes. The spit dripped down, down over your front where you felt it darken the fabric of your dress. Subtly, you reached your hands behind your back to pull at the zipper.

“Yeah, that’s right, get those pretty tits out f’me.”

He let you maneuver out of your dress while he stroked his cock slowly in front of your face, and finally, you could get a good look at him. He was bigger than you’d thought from his bulge. Veins lining his thick shaft as you watched the way his fist moved up, massaging the tip gently, and down again in a slow, steady rhythm. At the base unruly curls of dark hair shone in the spit gathering, and you let your eyes wander downward to his balls where they hung heavy.

You wanted to taste them, too.

With your dress discarded on the floor beside you, you sat up slightly, spreading your legs and tucking your calves up to your thighs. Almost naked, safe for the thong splitting your cheeks, you arched your back slightly, making sure he got a good view of your ass.

A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest, and a hand came down on your head, “You want my cock, don’t you, slut?” he spat, slapping his cock on your right cheek, spreading your spit on your skin.

“Do you make all your girls wait this long or is it just me?” you tutted, almost rolling your eyes at him.

“There’s that fuckin’ attitude again.”

Slapping his cock harder against your cheek, he leaned forward letting a blob of spit drip from his own lips, coating both his cock and your face as he rubbed it in with his cock.

It was obscene, degrading, and you’d never been wetter.

In desperation to taste him again, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. The hand he’d used to stroke himself, wrapped around your skull, caging his cock between his hand and your face as he started thrusting against your face, his heavy balls rubbing against your chin with every slow push.

It was messy, sloppy, and wet. He held your head steady with his other hand, while he continued rubbing his cock over your cheek, nose, and forehead. His spit mixed with your own as you lapped at the underside of his cock; trying to taste as much of him as he’d give you.

“You dirty little whore,” he smiled, “You like that don’t you?”

Under him you whimpered, clit pulsing with want as he made you his plaything, did what he wanted with you.

“Yeah,” you moaned unabashedly, licking greedily at the underside of his cock.

At that, he laughed, and the grip on your head loosened as he pulled back. You only had time to take a deep breath before he stuffed his cock down your throat. It was abrupt, and harsh – the hefty length of him making room for himself inside your mouth.

You couldn’t fit him all inside, gagging as the head of him hit the back of your throat. He held you there still, one second, two seconds, three seconds. Your hand found his thigh where you tapped at him, and finally he pulled away.

You gasped for air, your breath wet with spit as small tears pricked at your eyes. His hand landed on top of your head again, grounding you to the moment as he searched your eyes, checking in.

No, you tried to convey, you’re not too rough.

Pleased, his cock bumped against your lips again, and you dropped your mouth open for him again.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thrusting his cock back in your mouth, “let’me fuck that throat open.”

Dropping your jaw, you tried to make room for him in your mouth. It wasn’t easy, your lips stretched wide around the girth of him as you tried to calm yourself, to open your throat for him to abuse. His cock was easily the biggest cock you’d ever sucked, and you told yourself you needed to relax.

He pressed himself deeper, and you let out a whimper. “Work with me, slut, hold still.”

Trying your best to obey, you breathed through your nose, staving off your gag reflex the best you could as the head knocked at the back of your throat. His other hand cupped your chin, keeping your head still between his large hands. A tear rolled down your cheek when he rutted into your mouth, testing the waters.

“Good girl,” he praised, fucking gently into your mouth. Saliva gathered in your mouth, drooling down your chin with each thrust. “Such a fuckin’ mess– Look me in the eye as I fuck your throat.”

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping you steady as you locked eyes with him. It was difficult, tears clouding him in a vignette, but you did as you were told. He studied you closely, tested your boundaries, completely in control.

You gasped for air when he finally pulled back again. A wet string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. A proud smirk coated his lips, while his hand stroked your head in praise.

The small moment of relief passed quickly, and soon his cock was back in your throat, bruising it in a steady rhythm.

“Take that fuckin’ cock all the way down your throat, whore,” he spat, his thrust a little rougher now that he knew you could take it.

He had you at his mercy now as he ruined you. Ruined your throat, ruined your body, ruined you for other men. Tears mixed with snot, which mixed with spit as it ran down your chin, dripping lewdly onto your tits where it made a mess.

Over you, Joel rambled.

“Good fuckin’ slut.”

“Choke on that big fuckin’ cock.”

“You love it don’t you?”

And you did, you loved it. Joel made you feel useful for once in a life – a fucked up thought, but then again you never said you weren’t fucked up. Joel’s words were filthy and dirty, and as humiliating as they were he made you feel wanted.

You just wanted to be wanted.

Another gasp of air filled your lungs as he slipped from your mouth. His grip on your head was tighter now, his cock throbbing in front of you. As much as you wanted him to fuck you, you wouldn’t complain if he came down your throat. He’d given you so much already.

“Fuck,” he whispered and let go of your head.

You took the opportunity to catch your breath, sniffling as you wiped at the snot that clogged up your nose. His hand came down to squeeze at the base of himself, clearly staving off his orgasm.

“What,” you croaked, your voice hoarse after his assault on your throat, “you’re so old you can’t come now?”

His eyes darkened as they locked with yours, and a giddy bouncing feeling twisted in on itself in your tummy. You wanted to see what he’d do to you– how he’d fuck you, and if you’d have to push his buttons to see it, you gladly push the big red button.

His hand wrapped around your bicep, digging into the skin as he dragged you to your feet and pushed you towards the bed.

“Still a fuckin’ brat I see,” he spat, “We can’t have that can we?”

Putting on your best puppy dog eyes, you bit down on your bottom lip. “Who me?” you said innocently.

“Bend over, slut,” he ordered, his voice coated in a tone that said he was fed up with your bullshit. Strong arms turned you around, manhandling you, and pushed your front down on his bed, “’nd spread your fuckin’ legs.”

With a kick to your ankles, he forced your legs open. Tipping your head up, you locked eyes with your reflection in the window, like a camera lens capturing your ruin at Joel’s hand. He hovered over you, his eyes trailing over your naked body, laid out for him to take.

The first smack came quickly, hard, and brutal on your ass cheek. It made you jump, the muscles in your ass clenching as you tried to reel yourself in. Joel’s rough hand soothed over the burn immediately, and you turned your neck to find his eyes.

“I wanna hear an apology from you, brat,” he said calmly, one finger hooking into the lace of your thong.

You shook your head. Stubborn. “No.”

His head fell between his shoulders, while his finger hooked in your thong tightened its grip, and with a hard tug, he ripped it in two.

“Then I’m gonna have to punish ya.” He said it with a deep sigh, like he had no other choice.

You couldn’t hide the excitement that filled you at those words, your cunt now dripping with need. A need for Joel.

With the scrap of your thong now discarded his hand danced over your ass. You tried not to hold your breath, but he drew it out, and you couldn’t help it. The tension in the air so thick, you couldn’t focus.

Smack!

He spanked your other cheek hard, and the tension was released with a whimper. A tickling feeling of pins and needles spread through your cheek.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

They came in quick procession, your hands gripping the sheets for a lifeline as he put you in your place. Moans fell from your lips without abandon, and you felt yourself drip down your legs.

Smack!

“Look how wet you are,” he noticed, running a finger through your seam, “You like it? Only desperate whores like to get spanked.”

He leaned over you, his soft belly (when had he removed his shirt?) pressed against your back, coarse hair tickling your skin, as you felt his hard cock rub up against your sore ass.

“But that’s what you are, ain’t you? A desperate fucking whore.” His breath in your ear, had goosebumps erupt down your spine, and you sobbed out a whine.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered, and pulled away – taking his warmth with him.

Smack!

Tears pushed their way behind your eyes, not because you didn’t like it, but it stung like a motherfucker. Joel wasn’t all brutal, he rubbed your skin between hits, but fuck if it didn’t also hurt with pleasure.

“Say you’re sorry,” he demanded.

Turning around you shook your head, big wide eyes watching him as he spanked you again.

Smack!

“You’re tearing up, little girl– It stings doesn’t it?” he asked, voice laced with fake pity.

You nodded.

“Well, maybe you should be a good girl then– say you’re sorry.”

Smack!

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, voice cracking.

Finally.

Joel stopped immediately, his hand twisting around your waist to flip you on your back. His eyes danced over your body, almost tenderly but still full of lust. His hand moved up and down your sides, down the thick of your thigh before they gripped your ankles and tugged.

A squeal escaped you as he manhandled you, his large hands cupping your face while he fitted himself between your legs. “Good girl,” he cooed, thumbs stroking your cheeks, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shook your head in his hands, popping your lip out in an innocent pout.

“No,” he cooed, removing a hand to fit between your bodies.

You gasped when you felt the head of his cock bump your clit, the first real stimulation you’d had since you’d left the ally by the club. Your hips bucked by themselves, chasing the friction of his touch.

“Who owns this cunt?” he asked you, dark eyes staring into yours as he dragged his cock through your soaked folds.

“You do, sir,” you sighed immediately, your whole body aching for him.

A wide wicked grin spread across his face, “Lookit you bein’ such a good girl– finally know your place, huh?”

With no warning, you felt the blunt head of him press at your opening, and then Joel pushed inside you. Your mouth parted in a gasp at the intrusion; eyes glazed over in bliss as you felt yourself get split in two around the girth of his cock. He was so big, filling you up inch by inch, a heavy pressure poking at the deepest part of yourself.

“There you go, baby– you jus’ take it. Take all that cock inside,” he grunted, eyebrows pinched tight.

All you could do was moan as you felt him bottom out inside you, “Shit,” you gasped, “So fuckin’ big.”

“I know, baby, you’re doin’ so good f’me,” he praised, starting to rock his hips into you.

He picked up the pace quickly when he was sure you could take it, splitting you open on his cock as he made you takeit. Under him you could feel yourself float away in the pleasure. His hand came up to wrap around your neck and a big smile spread across your face.

You felt so warm. Joel felt so fucking good.

He reduced you to a puddle, a puddle of pleasure and ecstasy. It was better than any drug you’d ever taken. Better than the first day of summer vacation. Better than anything you’d ever known. The sound of skin against skin faded away into a tranquil rhythm of pleasure. You belonged to him now, lived only for him and the way his cock felt inside you.

“Feel how deep that is?” he asked you, somehow having maneuvered your knees to press into your chest.

You couldn’t do anything other than nod, desperate and whiny. You needed to fucking come. Inside you, his cock bumped into a spot no other man had reached before, and a fluttering feeling coiled itself in your core.

You were so close now.

“Joel,” you gasped, searching for the words as he continued his pace, balls slapping hard against your ass.

“No,” he told you, teeth gritted, “You hold it, slut, you hold it ‘till I give you permission.”

Later, a thought of how he’d had you so close to coming without even a tap at your clit would graze you, but in this moment your thought were only filled with Joel. A hand found his bicep, you needed something to hold on to or you’d burst, and squeezed. Above you Joel’s groans and moans got louder.

“Hold it.”

Tears streamed down your face, as you heaved for breath. You were right there, right on the edge now.

Please, Joel, please, sir, please.

“Come.”

Arching your back off the mattress, you shook as you finally tipped over the edge of bliss. The sounds escaping your throat weren’t your own, they were someone else’s, someone possessed with pleasure.

A “Thank you,” fell from your lips, but you don’t think he heard you. Above you, Joel’s movement became more and more erratic, thrusting himself deeper and deeper before a loud groan vibrated through his chest.

“You take it,” he growled, “take all that fuckin’ cum inside.”

He slammed his hips hard against you, pushing himself as deep as he could inside you, and came with a loud primal groan. His cock twitched within your walls as he emptied himself inside your cunt, the warmth of him filled you up as he painted your walls with cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, burying his face in your neck, “That cum feels so good inside, don’t it?” he cooed, and you nodded, your hands tangling in his hair. He pulled back and thrusted inside you again, fucking his cum deeper inside.

He stayed inside you as you both caught your breaths. His weight felt good on you, you were safe, as you floated somewhere between reality and a space you’d never been pushed to before.

And you missed him when he pulled away, sliding his half-hard cock from your fucked out cunt, dragging you with him up the bed. You reached for him, laying your hand open against his sheets, but he didn't see it, eyes mesmerized by his spend dripping out of you. His fingers slid through the mess, pushing his cum back inside as his eyes found yours.

Then something in the air shifted, and whatever had come over you, was gone. His fingers left streaks of wetness down the inside of your thigh as he pulled away. For the first time in your life, you didn’t know what to say.

You were ruined now – he’d ruined you for everyone who wasn’t him.

You sat up, turning your head over your shoulder to watch him, watch how his eyes trailed your body.

“Smoke?” you asked, your voice more unsteady than you’d thought.

Joel shook his head as you slung your feet off the bed to find your purse. He sat up against the pillows resting against his broken bed frame. Your eyes raked over his naked body as you fished a cigarette from your packet; drank in his strong arms, his wide chest and followed the dark hair of his happy trail down his belly to his soft cock between his thighs, still coated in your combined cum. Between your legs you could still feel his thick spend leak out of you.

You brought the cigarette to your lips, and just as you were about to light up Joel’s rough voice spoke, “Out the window,” he ordered with a nod in the direction of the window.

Everything was back to how it was before.

A dramatic huff escaped you, “All right…” you muttered.

You felt too heavy– he’d messed with your head; made you show him the real you. He couldn’t see that. So instead, you put your mask back on, turning to face the window to conceal the mischievous smile threating to spill across your face.

“Daddy.”

Behind you, as you cracked open the window, you heard the bed creak. You played it cool, lighting your cigarette and blowing the smoke out the window.

Joel’s breath teased at the back of your neck and over your bare shoulder, making goosebumps dance down your spine, “Thought I’d fucked the attitude out of ya,” his voice was stern.

“Guess I was wrong.”

part two -> here!

i hope someone liked this? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Wearing Their Clothes

Requested: i followed you for succession and currently im the boys brainrotted so you wouldnt believe my excitement when i realised you wrote for the boys too!!!!! i want to request maybe hc on how the boys would react to reader wearing their sweater/tshirts - anon

A/N: My love, the brain rot is so real!!! When I tell you I have an entire folder of The Boys edits, I mean I am kicking my feet and giggling at these people covered in blood lol. Thank you for requesting! Please feel free to again, I absolutely love writing preferences! I hope you like it!!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher absolutely adores you wearing his coat. It drives him wild. It started one night where you two were alone, the group split up. While everyone else had their own jobs, you and Butcher were on surveillance. It was freezing out. He noticed the goosebumps on your arms. You swore you were fine, but he could tell you were putting up a front. Oi, just take it. Not wanting to blow your cover and fight, you put his coat around your shoulders, thanking him. It's a long night and you take shifts. When he catches you curled in a ball, his coat wrapped around you, it tugs at his heartstrings. Something about this image of you just makes him melt. After that, he's eager to see it again. Realizing this, you never turn down his offer. Now you basically have 50/50 custody. You like it. It's warm and worn, but it also smells like him and, when you're apart, remains a reminder that he's always looking out for you. Both M.M. and Frenchie are full of jokes when they catch you wearing it, but Annie and Hughie find it endearing.

Hughie loves that you wear his t-shirts and hates it. Not only do you look better in them than him, which is annoying enough, and now everyone finds them funny now that you're wearing them, but now he can never find the one shirt he wants to wear. It's either on your body or in your closet. Of course he would never stop you, he doesn't want you to stop, but he does wish there was a little bit more of a compromise. You wore it the first time you slept over. Your shirt had been discarded somewhere you couldn't find, but Hughie's was right there. He tried not to show it, he tried not to get caught smiling, but he was way too obvious. Something about seeing you in his shirt made his day, his life. It never gets old. When it's laundry day, most of your clothes end up being his. Now he has double the laundry. Still, it's worth it. His clothes always come back smelling like you. When they get ripped or torn from fights you apologize profusely, but he's just glad you're okay. Who cares about a stupid shirt?

Annie has always loved you in her clothes. When you moved in together, your clothes just sort of became jumbled. Neither of you felt the need to separate them, so you really can't tell if the sweater you're wearing is hers of yours. When she buys clothes she always makes sure you like what she's picking out so that you both can wear it. No one even noticed what you two were doing, that one day you'd be wearing a shirt and a few days later it would be her turn, it's just sort of become a thing. When something gets ripped or torn or covered in blood, you're the first to make jokes. I loved that sweater, you say, though Annie knows what you really mean is it's a stupid piece of clothing, you're just glad she's okay, that's all that matters. Your favorite thing is to look at pictures where, in one, you're wearing this sweater and, in the next, she is. Something about that puts a smile on your face.

M.M. feels a little insecure. You used to love wearing his shirts. Truthfully, no one can tell what's his and what's yours, your and his clothes are so blended. Since becoming in charge of The Boys, as close to a leader as possible, he's lost a lot of weight. Grown smaller, and his clothes no longer fit you. You of course still have his old shirts, but his new wardrobe just doesn't fit. You assure him it's just temporary. The anxiety, the OCD, it really hurts his appetite. He can't even think about food anymore. Still, realizing that you can no longer share, it makes him self-conscious. Something about you wearing his clothes made him think that he was there with you always, that this was a way to protect you, as silly as it might sound. Now that you wear your clothes more, he isn't there to save you. It just adds to his many worries. You assure him you'll be safe, you'll always come back to him, but he just can't help it. You make a point to wear his older shirts as much as possible, not wanting him to worry more than he does.

Frenchie literally can't tell when you're wearing his clothes vs. your own. His style is pretty eclectic. His pants alone are bright and patterned and, to his friends, a fashion offense. His clothes are rarely organized, so you end up picking through piles to find something specific. Most of the time you have to point out when you've got one of his jackets or shirts on. He of course thinks you look better in them than him and he makes it known. Your friends make fun of you and him for some of the outrageous outfits you put together. Everything is worn in and soft and smells like him, a mix of cologne and fabric softener and smoke. Not realizing, Frenchie wears your clothes, too. Only when you ask for a shirt back or where it is does he realize oh! so this belongs to you. Neither of you mind. It makes you happy seeing him wear your clothes. He definitely styles is better than you.

Kimiko's entire closet is all black. Not only is it easy to blend in with the crowd, and it all matches, but it can also hide the sight of blood. Neither of you can really tell whose shirt or pants or jacket belongs to who, considering most of your clothes are pretty identical. Still, she'll poke fun at you every so often when she realizes you've got on one of her shirts. Is that mine? She smiles. Is it? You didn't even realize. You always ask her if she wants it back, if she wants you to change, but she shakes her head. She tells you look good in it, badass even, and you shrug it off, though it means a lot. You and Kimiko both are still figuring out how relationships work. It takes a lot of trust, something neither of you were very well versed in. Sharing clothes is just another way you two show that you're a partnership. No one else can tell, but you can. That kind of attention would normally make alarm bells go off in your head, but you know Kimiko, you know she does it out of affection and not something more sinister.

Bonus! Homelander rarely, if ever, wears civilian clothes. If he's not in his suit, he's probably naked. You've never seen him in anything else. The only time he's done it was to see Sage and that was in secret. Still, you find a way to share by wearing his cape. Typically wrapped around you after you slip from the bed, in search of your own clothes, half-naked and embarrassed. He assured you you have never looked better. Homelander likes power. He likes when people listen to him, respect him, and show him their loyalty. You wearing his cape shows him all of that and more. He never thought he'd like you in his clothes, it's just another thing he's territorial about, but he's pleasantly surprised. Now he expects it. If you forget or just don't wear it, his ego is pretty wounded. You assure him it's nothing against him. Now you go out of your way to do so, knowing it makes him so happy.

Bonus! Soldier Boy feels such an attraction to you when you wear his clothes. He doesn't really wear anything but his suit, so one day you jokingly put it on. You filled it out differently than he did, but it didn't look horrible. When he saw you, he was all smiles. The first thing that comes to mind is wanting to take it off you *wink wink*. What was a joke is now something you do on special occasions, putting it on and parading around in it. The things he says are awfully dirty and make you laugh every time. You never thought something as silly and simple as putting on his suit would end up driving him this wild. You should have known, it makes perfect sense, but you just never realized. When he does, on rare occasions, wear regular clothes, he's the first to suggest that you share. It isn't as enticing as wearing his suit, but the attraction is still there. It makes him feel like you belong to him, that you want to show that off. Nothing matters more to him than that. Nothing makes him feel more seen.

[incognit0slut]

Tempting the Cowboy

Summary: The team has been trying to bring Spencer back to the BAU after he hung up his badge to live on his ranch peacefully. It’s a good thing you’ll do whatever it takes to persuade him, even if the rugged cowboy wants to bend you over in the barn.

warnings: (MDNI, 18+) softdom spence, nipple play, handjob, fingering, female and male oral, semi-public sex

word count: 6k (i had too much fun, okay?)

a/n: This is such a random plot. Cowboy spence seemed so impossible, but then again, so did prison reid and look what happened.

Never in a million years would you ever have thought that a certified genius with an IQ of 187, after fifteen years of dedicated service to the FBI, would change career paths and settle down in the countryside. Yet here you were, driving to the middle of nowhere, trying to find that man.

The GPS led you down dusty backroads, past fields of golden wheat and weathered barns until finally, you arrived at his ranch. The scent of hay and the distant sound of cattle filled the air as you stepped out of the car and you couldn't help but feel out of place.

Your usual black pants and fitted blouse seemed like a striking contrast to your surroundings, especially with the sleek boots on your feet. Adjusting your shirt, you finally approached the farmhouse, the gravel crunch beneath your feet echoed with every step you took.

A group of men caught your eyes as they emerged from a weathered barn at the end of the road, and you found yourself approaching them instead. Clearing your throat, you called out to them.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," you began, "I'm looking for Spencer Reid. Is he around?"

The men exchanged knowing glances before one of them, a weathered cowboy with a straw hat shading his face, spoke up.

"You must be lookin' for the doc," he said, nodding towards the stable. "He's over there tendin' to the horses. You can't miss 'im."

With a grateful nod, you followed their directions. Nerves fluttered in your stomach as you walked into the stable, unsure of what to expect from the man who had once been your colleague but now seemed like a stranger in this unfamiliar setting.

As you pushed open the creaking door, the scent of leather and hay washed over you. Inside, you finally spotted him, his back turned as he tended to a horse in the corner of the room. His familiar profile was a stark contrast to the rugged surroundings, and for a moment, it felt surreal to see him in this new role.

Gone were the suits or knitted cardigans; instead, he was clad in well-worn denim and leather that gave him a distinctly different, yet undeniably attractive appearance. His sleeves were rolled up, showcasing the definition in his arms and a cowboy hat was perched on his head, its brim casting a shadow over his features, while his tousled hair peeked out from beneath it.

It was a side of him you had never seen before—one that seemed more at peace, more connected to the land than the city. And as you watched him work, the soft murmur of his voice filling the room as he spoke soothingly to the horse he was gently brushing, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt knowing you were going to ruin his peace.

As if sensing another presence in the room, he suddenly turned his head before his gaze fell on you. A genuine smile curled at the corner of your lips as you approached him. "Howdy, cowboy."

A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes as he straightened himself, which was quickly replaced with realization at your sudden visit.

"I was wondering when they'd send you here," he remarked, his tone a mixture of amusement and resignation. You returned his smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly at his familiar demeanor.

"I guess today is your lucky day." Your eyes scanned the rustic surroundings of his ranch, taking in the simplicity of his new life. "Well, this is quite the change of scenery."

He chuckled softly, a hint of pride in his tone as he gestured around the farmhouse. "It's definitely a far cry from the city," he admitted. "But it suits me."

"It does seem like you've found your place here. It's... different, but in a good way."

Spencer's smile widened at your words "It is different, and I like it here," he agreed. "Which is why I'm going to say no to whatever reason you're here."

You raised an eyebrow. "I haven't even said anything."

"You didn't have to, everyone else has already said their piece." He turned and focused his attention back on his horse. "And the answer is still no."

You silently studied him as he finished his task. He was right; your other teammates had already been here before you, trying to coax him back to the BAU. But you couldn't help but feel a sense of determination rise within you. Spencer Reid might be a stubborn cowboy now, but you knew deep down that his brilliant mind belonged with the team.

But knowing no one else could crack his stubbornness, you knew you needed a different approach and the only way you could think of was to reel him in with his current interest. "He's beautiful," you acknowledged, nodding towards the horse he was working on. "What's his name?"

"She's beautiful," he corrected. "And her name is Mildred."

The name didn't sound foreign to you. "You must really have something sentimental with that name. Didn't you name one of your mugs Mildred?"

He tipped his head back. "You remembered?"

"Of course, I do," you replied with a grin. "I remember a lot about you, even if we didn't have much time getting to know each other."

The memories of your time at the BAU flooded back. The way you joined the team right before Spencer had decided to take a break, which had turned out to be more permanent than anyone had anticipated. Although it was hard to forget a guy like him. You remembered when your eyes first fell on him and how your heart fluttered at his awkward yet charming smile.

There was something about him, something magnetic and intriguing that drew you in from the very beginning. It was a pity he had to leave shortly after you joined the team because you swore your admiration wasn't one-sided, but with Spencer gone, any hope of exploring those feelings had faded away.

As you stood before him now, you couldn't help but study how different he was yet still managed to look the same. The rugged cowboy attire he now wore seemed worlds away from the suit and tie he had once donned as a profiler, yet there was a familiarity to his features that remained unchanged.

But one thing was for sure, despite the time and distance of not seeing him, you were still attracted to Spencer Reid.

"I remember a lot about you too."

You laughed. "That's because you have an eidetic memory." Spencer simply flashed you a sheepish grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You slowly took a step forward towards him. "Can I touch her?"

He nodded, gesturing towards Mildred. "Go ahead. She's quite friendly."

You approached the horse cautiously, extending your hand to stroke her mane gently. Mildred nuzzled against your palm, her warm breath tickling your skin. A sense of calm washed over you as you felt the gentle rhythm of her breathing.

Spencer watched you with a soft smile, his gaze warm and reassuring. "She likes you," he remarked, his voice low and soothing.

You smiled back. "I like her too," you replied, your fingers trailing along Mildred's soft fur. Then your eyes glanced over to him and the gears in your head started to move. You needed to act as stealthy as possible. "So... how fast can horses go? In general?"

His smile widened at your question. "Well, it depends on various factors like breed, training, and terrain," he began, falling into his familiar role as an educator. "On average, horses can reach speeds of around 25 to 30 miles per hour, but some breeds can go even faster, reaching speeds of up to 40 miles per hour."

You nodded, absorbing the information as you continued stroking Mildred's fur while keeping your true intentions hidden behind a facade of innocent curiosity. "Are mammals usually that fast?"

"Actually, yes," he replied. "While horses are known for their impressive speed, they're not the only mammals capable of reaching high velocities."

"...how about bulls?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued by your sudden interest in bulls. "Bulls?" he echoed, studying you intently.

You met his gaze, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, bulls."

He continued to scrutinize you, his sharp intellect picking up on your evasive behavior. Spencer may not work as a profiler anymore, but he could tell when someone had ulterior motives.

"Alright, what is it?" he finally asked, crossing his arms.

You sighed, trying not to focus on the way his arms flexed at the movement, and took another step towards him. If you were going to convince him to return to the BAU, you needed to be honest with him. "Well, you see, the current case we're working on is... it's a bit unusual."

Spencer's curiosity was piqued, his interest evident in how he leaned in slightly, waiting for you to continue.

"Three victims were found dead under suspicious circumstances," you explained, choosing your words carefully. "The strange part is, all three victims were found with injuries consistent with being trampled by bulls."

"Trampled by bulls?" he repeated, disbelief coloring his voice.

"It sounds bizarre, I know. There have been reports of aggressive behavior from a nearby ranch, and the local authorities suspect that the deaths may be connected to the bulls on the property. But the thing is, the autopsies showed that it might not even be caused by any type of animal."

"And you want me to help with the investigation," he summarized.

"We could certainly use your help," you admitted, hoping that he would see the significance of his involvement.

Spencer fell silent for a moment, his gaze distant as he considered your words. Then, without saying another word, he turned on his heels and began to walk towards another part of the stable, a hidden corner shrouded in shadows. Your heart sank as you watched him move away.

"I don't think I'm the person you should be looking for."

You followed him, determined not to let him slip away without a fight. "You're exactly the person we should be looking for! With that smart brain of yours and your knowledge of farm animals, we could profile the Unsub in no time."

His steps faltered momentarily as your words reached him, but he didn't turn back to face you. Instead, he continued walking, his silhouette fading into the shadows of the stable.

"I appreciate the sentiment," he called back over his shoulder, his voice tinged with resignation, "But I'm not sure I'm the right fit for this anymore."

"Reid," you called after him, quickening your pace to catch up. "Please, just hear me out."

"Y/n," he warned dangerously low. The way he spoke your name affected you more than you'd like to admit. You cautiously took a step forward.

"Do you know how long it took me to do a geographical profile of the crime scenes? Or how Alvez spent two nights going through stacks of documents when you would've finished it in like an hour?" You let out a sigh. "It's so different without you, we miss you."

He slightly faltered at your words again but remained quiet, so you tried again.

"We could really use your help, Spence, at least on this case. The team needs you." You watched him try to do some other task as if trying to ignore you. "I need you."

He remained silent for a moment longer, the only sound the soft shuffle of his boots against the stable floor. Then, slowly, he turned to face you, and there was a subtle shift in his expression, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"...you need me?"

You faltered for a moment, taken aback by his unexpected question. The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls closing in as you became hyper-aware of the proximity between the two of you. Your gaze involuntarily flickered over every detail of his face, taking in the curve of his stubble jaw, the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, and the lines etched on his brow.

You also noticed his lips. Those damn kissable lips, pressed together in a thin line as he waited for your response. You found yourself inexplicably drawn to them, a surge of desire coursing through you at the mere thought of what it would feel like to press your own against them.

Shaking yourself from your inappropriate thoughts, you forced your gaze back to his eyes, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment at where your mind had wandered. You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat.

"Yes," you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I need you."

As the words left your lips, a heavy silence fell upon the room. You could feel his eyes on you, his gaze intense and searching, as if he were trying to interpret the depth of your confession. For a moment, neither of you spoke, and you could hear the sound of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, the rhythm erratic and unsteady.

"And you missed me?"

You held his gaze. While your words might not have been an outright confession, it wasn't exactly a lie, and there was no reason to deny the truth.

"I missed you," you admitted, your voice sounding more breathless than you intended. He smiled. Then, slowly, he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, the warmth of it searing through you like a flame.

"Fine, I'll help you," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "On one condition."

Your heart skipped a beat, anticipation coursing through your veins as you waited for him to continue. His gaze held yours, unwavering and intense. You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, from your wide eyes to the slope of your nose, before lingering on your lips. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of your shallow breaths. Then he finally spoke.

"Be honest with me," he responded, his fingers tracing a gentle path along your jawline, "Do you need my help with the case or do you need me for something else?"

You met his gaze, searching for the right words to express the truth of your intentions. "Both," you admitted after a pause, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need your help with the case, but I also... need you."

A satisfied smile curled on his lips as he gently cupped your cheek, pulling you closer. But just as you thought he would close the distance between your lips, he paused, his warm breath teasing against your skin. His next question hung in the air between you, a challenge and an invitation wrapped into one.

"Tell me what you need me for then."

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips hovered tantalizingly close to yours. "I-I need you to kiss me," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, your words tinged with urgency and desire. "Please."

His gaze darkened. "I never took you as one to beg," he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "But I must admit, I quite like it."

Then slowly, almost hesitantly, he closed the remaining distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light touch. You could still feel the smile playing on his lips, but only briefly before he moved them slowly, capturing every curve of your soft lips.

He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, holding your jaw in place. His hand cradled your face, holding you gently but firmly, while his other hand explored your body. It trailed down your back, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you, before settling on your hip. You gasped at the sudden contact and he seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue delving deeper.

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer. Your fingers tangled in his hair, knocking off his hat onto the floor before tugging lightly at the roots, eliciting a low moan from him that vibrated against your lips.

What had started as gently molding your lips together turned into a passionate dance of tongues, leaving you moaning and breathless. He slowly pulled away, his eyes slamming shut as his forehead met yours, both of you gasping for air while you tried to regain your composure. His breath mingled with yours, a heady mix of desire and need, as he spoke in a ragged voice.

"You," he gasped, his words laced with raw intensity, "Taste better than I imagined."

Your head was spinning. How could he consume you with just a kiss? You had dreamed of this moment, of being close to him, but you never imagined it would affect you as deeply as it did now.

"Do you even realize," He pressed on, his voice low with pent-up longing. "How much I've wanted to do this?"

Your head was swimming in a haze of desire as his lips trailed along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. "Yeah?" you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts.

He nodded against your neck. "Ever since I saw you."

"Wh-Why didn't you say anything?" you managed to stammer out, the words barely audible amidst the dizzying sensation of his lips on your skin.

"Wasn't sure you felt the same way."

You took a moment to process his words, the warmth of his breath against your skin adding to the whirlwind of sensations coursing through you. "You should've said something, it would make this whole convincing you a lot easier."

He paused, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses along your neck. "I don't know," he finally murmured. "I think I need a little more persuading."

His words sent a jolt of desire coursing through you, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the intoxicating sensation of his lips on your skin.

"I can persuade you in other ways."

Spencer lifted his head, his gaze meeting yours. "Then show me," he breathed, his voice thick with desire.

There was no room for hesitation. You leaned in, capturing his lips with yours in a desperate, passionate kiss, fully aware of the risk of being caught, but his mouth on your body felt too good to care. It wasn't like you hadn't fantasized about this exact moment, about the feel of his mouth on your body, the way his hands would explore every inch of you with a hunger that mirrored your own.

His hands found your hips, pushing you to the nearest wall before his fingers fumbled with the buttons on your blouse. It was clear you both decided that the risk was well worth the wait.

"May I?" He asked, his fingers still working on your front buttons.

You laughed amusedly. "You already are."

His response was a chuckle of his own before he buried his head in your neck again. The opening in the front of your shirt chilled your body, sending goosebumps all along your skin as his hands caressed over your lacy, black bra covering your breasts, thumbing your hardened nipples.

He leaned further down, trailing his lips over your cleavage, before sucking softly on the spot. The sensation made you gasp, knowing well enough that there would be marks left behind, but you didn't care. Wanting to give more to him, you reached out between your bodies and pulled down your bra, granting him more access to your skin.

His eyes drank in the sight before him hungrily. He gently rubbed against the small pebbles on your chest, wetting his lips as he did, eyes completely trained on them now. Without warning he surged forward, tongue darting out to lick a long, flat stripe against one of your nipples. You let out a surprised moan at the action, fingers tugging at his hair tightly and head tilting back before snapping down to look at him.

A choked moan left your lips as he continued sucking, licking, twirling his tongue around it while playing with the other with his hand. "Spence..." you whined, your voice sounding clear in the room.

"Shh," he mumbled against your skin. "Keep your voice down."

You nodded helplessly as he released your nipple before wrapping his lips around the other one, giving the same attention. He repeated the motion, rolling your wet nipple under his calloused palm, having you arch your back and push your chest into his face. He didn't have to be told twice, immediately giving it a hard suck while pinching the other one.

The sensation traveled along your body before it lowered between your thighs, forming an ache the second his hand trailed down your stomach. His fingers finally found the hem of your pants, before dipping underneath the material, slipping right underneath your panties. Your breath hitched when two of his long fingers slide between your folds, spreading your slick before finding its rightful place on your clit.

"You're so wet," he whispered in a daze, trailing his lips back up your collarbone. He couldn't believe how drenched you already were. "All this for me?"

You nodded, gasping when he stroked up and down your folds, coating his fingers with your arousal. Your hips buckled against his touch and he didn't hesitate when he started rubbing your clit, feeling your body writhe under him. A sudden pressure of his fingers sent pleasure shooting through you, and your head fell back to the wall, mouth agape, face flushed.

But before you could relish the pleasure, he suddenly pulled his hand out of your pants before tugging you, urging you to follow him. As he led you deeper into the stable, your heart raced with anticipation. You followed him silently, feeling a rush of excitement as he pulled you behind the stacks of hay, sheltering the two of you from prying eyes.

The rustling of the hay beneath you echoed in the room as he pulled you closer, his touch igniting a fire within you as you pressed your hands on his chest. With trembling hands, you began to undo the buttons of his shirt, and his gaze never left yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

As your fingertips brushed along his skin, you felt the warmth radiating from his body, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He wasn't muscular in the conventional sense, but there was a lean strength to him that was undeniably attractive. Your fingers continued their journey downward, skimming lightly over the softness of his stomach before teasing along the line of hair that trailed further down.

Your hands found their way to the buckle of his belt, fingers deftly working to undo it. He made no move to stop you as his gaze remained fixed on you. There was a hunger in his eyes, urging you for more, yet he remained patient, allowing you to take the lead. And then you tugged down his denim, not much than an inch but enough for you to pull his cock out.

He was warm and achingly hard, and a low, guttural sound escaped his lips as his hips bucked into your palm. His eyes fluttered closed momentarily, a shudder passing through him as he surrendered to the sensation. You looked up at him through your lashes, the corner of your lips quirked up in a smirk.

"Shh," you whispered, echoing his words. "Keep your voice down."

He chuckled softly, eyes meeting yours. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Not as much as you are."

You proved your point by tugging his cock harder, pumping up and down his length. His head fell back, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he fought to stifle his moans. You couldn't help but find it endearing, the way he struggled to keep quiet, his brows creasing in concentration. It was a pity, really, because you liked hearing the raw, unfiltered sounds of his pleasure.

You swiped your thumb along the tip of his cock, gathering the slickness before rubbing it along his length. His head snapped down to look between you, his eyes taking in the way you quickened your pace, pumping him in your hand. A sense of urgency overwhelmed him the moment your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip, and he leaned in, shoving his own tongue into your mouth.

The way your fingers gripped his cock had him moaning into the kiss which you happily accepted. As he felt that familiar knot tightening in his stomach, he knew he had to act quickly. With a gasp, he pulled away from the kiss, his chest heaving with ragged breaths as he reached between you to halt your movements. With a sense of urgency, he shrugged off his shirt and laid it carefully on the stack of hay behind you.

"Turn around," was all he said as he pushed down his pants to uncover himself, leaving you empty for the moment.

You obliged, turning while gripping the hem of your pants and slipping them down your legs. Without hesitation, you pushed your panties down before kicking them off, giving him the perfect view of your soaked slit. It didn't take long for him to drop onto the floor, his hands running along the back of your thighs.

"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushing your damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty little thing?"

You leaned forward and arched your back at his words, earning a deep, low sound of approval from him. One of his hands gripped your ass, slowly kneading your supple skin as his other hand grabbed onto your right leg, hiking it over the stack of hay. He had a better view of your wetness in this position, and you bit down your lips when you felt his fingers brush over your entrance.

A finger slipped inside you, then two, and when he started to pump them in and out of your tight walls, you pressed yourself further onto the stack of hay underneath you, trying to hold yourself back from making too much noise. Your arousal dripped from your core to coat his fingers and he was mesmerized by how eager your body was for him, how your hips rocked back against his hand.

But you needed more. His touch, his warmth, his presence—it wasn't enough. Your body ached for him, every nerve alive with desire.

"Please..." you breathlessly begged him, wanting to feel him inside of you, wanting him to rid your body of the tension, of the ache between your legs. Your jaw slacked open when you felt his mouth press against your clit before giving a slight suck.

"Tell me what you need," he ordered, breath deep and raspy and strained against your wet skin. He sucked onto your aching nub once again as his fingers continued to pump in and out of you. "And I'll give it to you."

"Please," you gasped, overwhelmed with the sudden force of his fingers and tongue between your legs and the pleasure that coursed through your body. "I w-want to f-feel you."

He pulled his fingers from within you, but his mouth was still exploring the wetness of your skin. His eager tongue worked wonders against your pussy, drawing out every second of pleasure as your hips rolled against his mouth. A whimper slipped from your lips as his tongue worked on your clit faster and you found yourself unable to contain yourself any longer.

"S-Spence..." You whined, not caring how desperate you sounded. All that mattered was your need for him. "Please..."

He placed a kiss on your swollen clit. "Be specific, baby, tell me what you need."

His endearment sent shivers down your spine, and you felt yourself spiraling further. Without hesitation, you begged shamelessly, "I-I want to feel y-your cock."

A low groan fell through his lips as he got off the floor, positioning himself behind you. "Say more words like that and I may lose the hint of self-control I have."

"I just—I just need you to fuck me," you didn't recognize the choke in your voice when you whined again.

He had no intention of protesting as he slipped between your legs, finally allowing you to feel just how hard you made him. For a moment, he pushed his hips toward you, grinding his cock against your folds, feeling your arousal soak his flesh.

"Is this what you wanted?" His hand gripped his cock to ease the tip over your entrance, pushing into you slowly, gasping when your walls clenched around him eagerly.

"Fuck, yes," was all you could manage to whimper, eyes screwing shut as he filled you up. And when you could barely stand anymore, becoming a quivering mess beneath him, he finally thrust deeper, pushing his hips against your body, earning a gasp with your mouth falling open.

"Oh my god." You could barely speak, barely form words, or even think as he pressed a hand to on your lower back, holding you in place as he dragged his cock out of you, only to ram himself back inside.

"Harder," you begged him, so breathless once again, "F-Faster."

He listened to you; he listened to the way your body moved against him, the way your walls tightened around his length. The way you stifled a moan and curse and huff anytime he thrust just right to have you pushing your hips back to him, your body trembling, shaking, and your legs nearly giving out because the pleasure became too much to bear.

"D-Don't stop." You had no shame in begging him. Not when he could make you feel so good, not when he was holding onto your hips as he continued to thrust into your dripping cunt.

"That's it," he encouraged, hips beginning to fall into a steady rhythm. "Tell me how good it feels. Beg me not to stop."

"So-so good," you babbled. "Don't—don't fucking stop."

He obliged your words by pushing apart your legs even further. Your face twisted in pleasure, so sensitive and overwhelmed as his hips smacked against your ass and he thrust himself harder into you. Sweat began to bead against his forehead once he pumped his cock into you harder, faster, earning every little whimper, even the ones you lacked the strength to release.

Thoughts of getting caught, of knowing anyone could walk in when he was buried deep inside you, left both of your minds. Neither of you cared when you were so wrapped up in one another. Not when you hiked your leg higher, allowing his cock to hit the spot that had you quivering in his hold when he slammed into you again.

Then he suddenly released his grip on your hips, slipping a hand between the two of you to press his fingers to your clit. The sudden increase in pleasure had you gasping in pure bliss. The room began to spin, air rushing to your head and the harder he fucked you, the deeper he thrust, and the faster his fingers rubbed against your clit, you knew you wouldn't be able to hold your sanity any longer.

He sensed your desperation in the way you gasped his name over and over again, and he thrust into you with more force than before. You tightened around him, squeezing him so damn hard he was tempted to lose all control right then, but he persisted in bringing your pleasure first. The sloppy sounds of your arousal coating his flesh filled the room, and with one, final thrust, you gasped before the pleasure finally consumed you.

He abruptly released your clit as he took hold of your hips again, keeping you in place while ruthlessly thrusting in and out through your bliss. His fingers pressed harder, drawing out every breathless moan, every strained whimper, every gasp of his name until your body grew too weak.

But he was far from done, slowing his hips to hit deep within your walls with aggressive thrusts, bringing his own high closer and closer as you whined from the overwhelming sensation, too sensitive, too far gone to handle much more, shuddering with every push of his cock within you.

"Where—" he groaned, your slick cunt too much for him, your juices drenching along his pelvis. "I'm close—"

You managed to snap your head over your shoulders. "Pull out, pull out."

You watched through fluttering lids as he gripped himself in his hand, and with trembling legs, you kneeled before him, gripped his cock in your hand, and took him fully in your mouth. He gritted his teeth at the sensation, sucking a breath in through his teeth as he felt your tongue dragging along his length.

You pushed further, hollowing your cheeks as you continued to swallow him down until the tip of his cock finally reached the back of your throat, nose pressed against his pelvis. He tipped his head back as you started to suck him, gagging around him when you felt him thrust his hips into you.

His eyes flicked down again at the sound only to find you looking up at him through your lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, before cradling your soft cheeks in both his large hands, and began thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth. Obscene noises filled the room as he continued to use you, tears welling at your lids and saliva building at your lips, seeping down your chin.

He continued to pump himself into your mouth, slowly starting to lose control, getting so lost in how warm your lips were wrapped around him. His jaw fell open as he released a final groan, brows creasing and eyes screwed shut, thrusting so deep before the first shot of his release filled your mouth.

Then a few more shots followed and you swallowed every drop down your throat as he continued to look at you in wonder. His breath was punching out of his chest in ragged, overwhelmed gasps, sweat glittering at his temples while he silently groaned through the pleasure.

His head dipped low as you dragged your tongue up his length for the last time, from the base of his cock to the tip, and you finally licked him clean. A few moments of catching your breaths passed before he gently pulled you back to your feet.

As you both quickly fixed your clothes and adjusted your hair, he retrieved his cowboy hat from where it had been discarded on the floor, placing it back on his head with a grin. Then, without hesitation, he drew you close, his lips peppering your face with sweet, tender kisses.

You laughed at his sudden affection. "What's all this for?" you asked, smiling up at him.

"I feel obligated after... all of that," he confessed, his lips brushing softly against yours before he withdrew slightly. "You're amazing."

Your smile widened at his words, a soft warmth blooming in your chest. "And you're not so bad yourself," you replied teasingly, wrapping your arms around his neck. "So, was that enough to convince you to come back?"

"Almost," he murmured, his voice low and filled with warmth. "I think I need a bit more convincing."

You quirked an eyebrow. "I don't think I have it in me for round two."

"No, not that," he said with a laugh. His hand slid down to rest on your lower back, drawing you closer to him. "Have dinner with me tonight and I'll come by the office tomorrow."

You smiled up at him, a flutter of excitement dancing in your chest as you took in every detail of his rugged features—the subtle crinkle in the corner of his eyes, the hint of stubble along his jawline, and the warmth of his brown eyes that seemed to shine brighter in the light.

Your gaze lingered on his cowboy hat, and with a mischievous grin, you reached out to grab it, placing it atop your own head.

"Then you've got yourself a deal, cowboy."

[sayruq]

In midtown Manhattan on March 4, Google’s managing director for Israel, Barak Regev, was addressing a conference promoting the Israeli tech industry when a member of the audience stood up in protest. “I am a Google Cloud software engineer, and I refuse to build technology that powers genocide, apartheid, or surveillance,” shouted the protester, wearing an orange t-shirt emblazoned with a white Google logo. “No tech for apartheid!” The Google worker, a 23-year-old software engineer named Eddie Hatfield, was booed by the audience and quickly bundled out of the room, a video of the event shows. After a pause, Regev addressed the act of protest. “One of the privileges of working in a company which represents democratic values is giving space for different opinions,” he told the crowd. Three days later, Google fired Hatfield. Hatfield is part of a growing movement inside Google that is calling on the company to drop Project Nimbus, a $1.2 billion contract with Israel, jointly held with Amazon. The protest group, called No Tech for Apartheid, now has around 40 Google employees closely involved in organizing, according to members, who say there are hundreds more workers sympathetic to their goals.

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: No Hesitation

Request: From anonymous: “I had an idea for Tyler Owens!! I feel like Tyler would be the type of guy that if a girl came up to him and said ‘this guy is creepy, pls pretend to be my bf’ he would be like ‘hell yay’ and scare the guy away without making the girl uncomfortable?? Maybe you could do a scenario like that with reader?? Thank youuu!!! Lots of love!!”

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: none

A/N: guys.... i'm down bad for tyler owens, pls send help (or requests so i can keep writing about him). anywayyy, enjoy!

“You comin’ T?” Boone asked as he peered into Tyler’s motel room. 

Tyler glanced up from where he sat on the edge of his creaky, double mattress and nodded. “Yeah, I just need to grab a shirt that doesn’t smell like pig shit.”

“Good luck with that,” Boone chuckled. “We haven't done laundry in almost three weeks– just about everything in my bag smells like pig shit.”  

“Maybe it’s time we popped home for a bit,” Tyler muttered as he continued digging through his bag. Finally, he pulled out an unused, plain, T-shirt that had been folded at the bottom of his duffel. “What kind of place is this, Boone?” he asked as he pulled the shirt over his head. 

“Just a bar, man. Nothin’ fancy. They got darts though, and a pool table. Which, by the way, I bet you fifty bucks I can smoke you at.”

“Boone, you don’t even have fifty bucks,” Tyler replied, shaking his head. He stood up from the bed and joined his friend in the hallway, shutting his motel room door behind him. 

“Do too,” Boone said defensively as they began walking towards the parking lot to join the rest of the team. 

���Oh you mean the fifty bucks I gave you to get the van’s oil changed last week? Which now I’m assuming you never did–” 

“An honest mistake,” Boone said, putting his hands up in surrender. “They were closed the day you gave it to me, then I’ll be honest, I forgot about it. But my point is, beat me at pool and that money is yours again.” 

“I don’t want the money to be mine again, I want the van to get an oil change.”

“Well you get your fifty bucks back and you can use it for whatever you’d like– oil change included.”

Tyler shook his head, knowing there was no use arguing with his friend. 

“What’re you two love birds arguing about now?” Lilly asked. She was perched on the hood of Tyler’s truck looking at footage she’d taken from her drone earlier in the day. 

“T’s too scared to play me in pool,” Boone answered before Tyler could. 

“Aw,” Lilly said teasingly. “Nothin’ to be scared of. We’ll still love ya, even if Boone kicks your ass.”

“Yeah, T,” Dani added from the front seat of the van. They had the door kicked open and their feet resting out the rolled down window. “There’s no shame in losin’. Only in never trying.”

“I oughta just leave the lot of you behind. Me and Dexter can take things from here. Isn’t that right, Dex?”

“Sure,” Dexter said casually. “But I’ll have you know I can also beat your ass at pool.”

“Unbelievable,” Tyler muttered to himself. “Who’s ridin’ with me?”

Lilly and Boone’s hands shot up. “Shotgun,” Boone announced. 

“You always get shotgun,” Lilly muttered as she climbed into the backseat of his truck. 

“We’ll meet you guys there,” Dani said as they pulled their feet into the van and started it up. Dexter climbed into the passenger seat and then the group of them were off. 

It took about fifteen minutes to get to the bar Boone had been going on about all day. He insisted they served the best chicken wings in all of Tulsa. Tyler would be the judge of that. 

The parking lot was relatively full– but not surprisingly so for a Saturday night. 

“If you have more than three drinks, you’re ridin’ back with Dani, you understand?” Tyler said to Boone as the five of them walked into the bar together. “I’m not havin’ you get sick in my truck for a second time.”

“Whatever you say, Dad,” Boone said sarcastically. “I’m gonna mark my territory at the pool table– let ‘em know we’re next. Grab me whatever’s on tap, will ya?”

He didn’t even wait for Tyler’s confirmation before darting off, Dani and Dexter on his tail. 

Meanwhile, Tyler and Lilly made their way to the bar to order for everyone else. “Man, he’s full of it today,” he muttered once they reached the counter. 

“Yeah, well. We’re all a little restless,” Lilly admitted. “It’s been a long few weeks without much action. Boone’s kinda like a puppy. Except instead of walks he needs adrenaline rushes and excessive fun. Tonight’ll be good for him.” 

Tyler chuckled as he turned to check where the bartender was at. Except, as soon as he did, his elbow collided with the person beside him. 

“Sorry–” he said quickly, eyes wandering down. 

His words caught in his mouth at the sight of an unfamiliar, but beautiful girl. You were gazing back up at him with equal surprise, mouth hung open slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. 

“That’s okay,” you answered quickly. “I was standin’ too close.” 

“No other way to really do it in here it seems,” he said. 

You smiled sweetly. “I know– it’s never this busy here, even on the weekends.”

“You come here a lot?” he asked, just trying to keep the conversation going. 

“I wouldn’t say a lot, but enough. Any time I have a hankering for some wings.”

Tyler adjusted his body so that he was facing you entirely now. He was boxing Lilly out– but she’d understand. Especially after she got a look at how gorgeous you were. “You know, my buddy said they were good. I didn’t entirely believe him. But if you say so…”

“You’re gonna trust a total stranger over your buddy?” you asked teasingly. 

Tyler tilted his head to the side. “If you met my buddy, you’d understand why. You know we’re all gonna play some pool in a bit if you wanted to–”

“Hey Y/N, there you are!” Tyler heard someone say, cutting him off. He watched as your head snapped around. A man– tall with broad shoulders and black hair, was pushing through the crowd towards you. 

“I gotta go,” you said to Tyler quickly, instantly causing his shoulders to fall. “Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too,” he grumbled. He turned back towards the bar to avoid seeing you reunite with who he supposed was probably your boyfriend. 

“Don’t sweat it, T,” Lilly said, clapping him on the back. “You’ll get the next one.”

Tyler rolled his eyes, kicking himself for letting himself get his hopes up over a stupid, two minute conversation. 

Once he and Lilly got everyone’s drinks, the pair of them made their way back towards the pool table which Boone had successfully taken over. No time was wasted before Boone was insisting the pair play. 

To Tyler’s absolute dismay– he really did suck. 

He lost three games in a row before finally calling it quits. He opted to sit at a high top table with Dexter, watching Lilly and Boone compete instead. 

Tyler was just about to throw down the last of his beer when suddenly, he felt an arm loop through his.  He turned to tell who he assumed was Dani, that they’d had way too much to drink, but before he could, a voice (that certainly didn't match Dani’s) rang out. 

“Hi baby, there you are!”  

Dexter, who was sitting across from Tyler, glanced at him surprised. 

Tyler looked to his left and locked eyes with the same girl from the bar earlier. Except now, she was gazing at Tyler desperately. Without warning and before Tyler could even react, you leaned closer to him. 

In a hurried whisper, you spoke so that only Tyler could hear. “There’s a guy over there. I keep asking him to, but he won’t leave me alone– can you just pretend to know me so that he’ll go away?”

Then, you press your lips to the side of Tyler’s cheek quickly, like it was a gesture the two of you had shared thousands of times. You continued holding on to his arm, your eyes wildly trying to communicate how terrified you clearly were, as you looked pleadingly at him to help you. 

Tyler’s face broke out into a huge grin as he, with absolutely no hesitation, took on the role of boyfriend for a complete stranger. He wiggled his arm out of your grasp and instead wound it around your waist, pulling you tightly into his side. 

You were taken aback by how secure and safe you suddenly felt. 

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Tyler replied.  He could visibly see the look of relief that washed over your face once you realized he had decided to play along. 

Tyler tugged at your hip, indicating that he wanted you to lean in closer. You took his hint and tilted your head towards him.  

“Which guy is it?” he asked discreetly. 

“Red shirt, black hair,” you mumbled quietly. It was only then that you notice the other man sharing the table with your rescuer. You offered him an apologetic smile, hoping that he was intuitive enough to pick up on the cues you’d been dropping.  

Next you noticed the rest of his group scattered around the pool table. Initially, they were in the middle of a game when you came over, but now, their attention had shifted. You glanced at the beautiful girl with tanned skin and long, braided hair, holding a pool stick. She offered you a small, but cautious smile. You hoped it wasn’t her boyfriend you were currently draped over.  Then, there’s another guy– with messy black hair topped with an old, worn ball cap. He had a confused look on his face, but when the girl leaned over and whispered something in his ear, his eyes lit up in understanding. 

The man you were clinging to rubbed your hip bone gently with his thumb. The sensation sent sparks across the entire surface of your skin. You wondered if he even realized he was doing it.  

You’d seen him at the bar earlier and had gotten a good, gut feeling about his demeanor. He seemed genuine and kind– even though you’d only managed about a two minute conversation with him before the man who’d been following you around all night came back. It wasn’t until after you darted off that you realized you should have just explained what was going on right then and there. 

You’d realized he was handsome earlier, but this was the first time you’d gotten a good look at him up close, now that your nerves had calmed down and you felt like you were able to breathe again. You wanted to give yourself a pat on the back, because it seemed like you’d chosen the best looking man in the entire bar, if not world, to be your pretend boyfriend. He had distinct features– a strong jaw, tanned skin, and eyes so green, it made you feel like spring was blooming. His brows were furrowed into a firm line as he scoured the bar nonchalantly, looking for the man who had led you to him. You felt grateful that this complete stranger cared enough to help you out.  

“That him?” he asked, nodding in the direction he wanted you to look. 

You turned your head and watched in dismay as the creepy man from earlier approached. 

“Shit– yes.”

“I got ya, don’t worry,” he murmured gently. “Can I help you?” he asked, turning once the man was within earshot. 

He stopped in his tracks, eyes glued to you. “I was jus’ lookin’ for her,” the man said, words slurring together. 

“And what use do you have for my girlfriend?” he challenged, grip around your waist tightening. 

“Sorry man– she didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend.”

“But she did tell you to leave her alone, right?”

“Yeah, jus’ thought she was playin’ hard to get. You know how these girls can be–”

“No, I don’t actually,” Tyler said. “I think if she said leave her alone… you should probably leave her alone.”

The man put his hands up in surrender. “Easy man, I didn’t mean any harm by it. Like I said, I didn’t realize she was taken.”

“I don’t think you’re getting it–” Tyler said, standing up from his chair to face the man. You were surprised by how cold you felt without his hand around your waist. 

“You don’t get to just choose to respect her now that you know she has a boyfriend.” 

“You tryin’ to start something here, man?” The guy narrowed his beady eyes. 

“Why? You offerin?” Tyler took another step forward, anger surging in his chest faster than he anticipated.  

“Might be,” the man said, meeting Tyler halfway. The two were face to face now– things were escalating. 

But before things could get out of hand, the guy from behind the pool table hurried over. “Easy, T–” he placed a hand on his shoulder before facing the guy. “Why don’t you just back off, man? Get outta here.”

“Yeah, c’mon–” two more people from his group stepped forward. Like a small army, you thought. All stepping up to protect you– a total stranger. 

There was a brief moment where the man studied the scene before him. Then, like he realized that taking on the four people defending you was a bad idea, he backed off. 

“Whatever, she’s not worth it anyway,” he said, throwing you one, final nasty glare before turning and stalking off. 

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until you saw him walk out the front door. Only when it snapped shut behind him were you able to exhale a shaky sigh.  

That guy’s been following me all night. I thought I could handle it, but then he got really mad when I wouldn’t let him give me a drink,” you said shakily. 

“What a creep,” one of them said. 

“Thank you so much–” you said, utterly relieved. Then, you introduced yourself to the table of people you’d abruptly intruded upon. 

“Don’t mention it, glad we could help. I’m Tyler.” 

The others had gathered around the table now and each introduced themselves as well. 

“You were right to trust your gut,” Dani said, offering you a reassuring nod. 

“Yeah, who knows what that creep might’ve stuck in your drink.”

You shivered at the thought. 

“Well, I guess I’m glad I crashed your table then,” you smiled, turning to Tyler. For more than one reason, you thought, taking in the sweet laughter lines around his eyes and full lips. You caught yourself staring and forcibly looked away. You weren’t even drunk, but Tyler made your head spin.  

“Anyways, I should go,” you said quickly. You had to remind yourself of the circumstances.  You’d practically mauled Tyler in front of his friends and forced him to get into a brawl in the middle of the bar. And no matter how breathtakingly attractive you found him, there was no denying the fact that this entire situation was awkward and uncomfortable. You cleared your throat. “I’m really sorry for intruding, thank you again.”  

Tyler was still entirely dumbstruck, even as you walked away. It was like his brain couldn’t keep up with whatever the hell just happened. He watched as you disappeared through the crowd of people. 

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Dani spoke up.  

“Huh?” Tyler turns towards them. 

“She was into you, Tyler.”

He wasn’t sure he heard them right. The bar was loud and Tyler’s mind wasn’t working properly tonight, thanks to you and whatever perfume you’d been wearing. 

Lilly nodded her head in agreement, “And if I had to guess by the drool on your chin, I’d say you were into her too.” 

Feeling a little ganged up on, Tyler just stares at his team in disbelief. “I don’t– I don’t know what you��re talking about.”

Boone shook his head and chuckled as he walked back towards the pool table. “Man, I have never– in our entire ten years of friendship, seen a girl leave Tyler Owens speechless– this one might be special folks,” Boone chuckled. 

“Go after her, you dummy,” Lilly said. 

“And do what?” Tyler asked. 

Dani scoffed, “Talk to her– invite her back to the table– literally anything but let her just walk away, you idiot.”

Slightly offended, but more motivated, Tyler stood up from the table and finally took the last sip of his beer. It was warm, but he used it as a final attempt at some liquid courage, before striding off after you. The crowd of people was thick, but he was confident that no matter where you were, you’d stand out.  

Sure enough, he spotted you across the bar. You had left your glass on the counter and were currently shifting through your bag, looking for something. Tyler took a deep breath before walking over.  

He called your name, which he was proud to now know, causing you to look up from your things.  

“Tyler, hey,” you said, unable to hide the surprised smile that crept across your face.  

“So that was pretty weird, huh–” Tyler tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but all he did was realize how dry his mouth was. 

You bit your lip, “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make it weird– I just– I was scared. He was so creepy, and you just looked like you’d make a good fake date…” 

Oh my god, what were you saying? You were rambling, like you always did when you were nervous. You took another sip of your drink, wishing it was something stronger. 

But a smirk crept up on Tyler’s face, like he could tell you were floundering. 

“Oh yeah?” His voice was playful. “And how do you think I’d be as a real date?”

Butterflies ran rampant in your stomach as you clenched down on your jaw, trying to play it cool. But it was hard to remain casual when you were pretty sure Tyler was asking you out. 

Your voice was hitched slightly higher than normal when you responded, “I think I’d like to find out sometime.”

Tyler flashed his white teeth in a stunning smile before nodding back towards the table he’d just come from. “How about we start now? I got a hankering for some wings, what do you say I get us a plate to share?”

With no hesitation, you reached for his outstretched hand. 

“Should we eat before or after I kick your ass at pool?” you smiled sweetly. 

[simpforrooster]

actually, it’s captain.

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!reader

summary: request for @kpopgirlbtssvt. rooster’s girl is hit on by Top Gun students.

t/w: touch her, you d i e trope. cursing. mentions of alcohol.

Rooster leans against the bar, laughing at something Penny tells him. His jeans hang low on his hips, and he’s wearing the Hawaiian shirt you bought him for his birthday.

Rooster’s hand slaps the bar as he continues to howl. Penny and Mav exchange a look. Maverick murmurs something to Penny. Your guess would be “it wasn’t that funny.”

You throw back the rest of your drink. As your glass returns to the table, a group of men circle you, all clad in khaki. Must be new Top Gun recruits.

“What’s a pretty little gal like you sittin’ here alone for?” one of them asks you, his accent very similar to Hangman’s.

“Mind if we join ya?” the second asks. Before you can reply, two of the slide in across from you, while the one who spoke first sits next to you. His burly arm comes up around your shoulder. You stiffen under him, feeling small.

And not in the way you feel with Rooster. He makes you feel small, protected, but also empowered. This guy has a hold on you like he’s claiming you. Telling every other guy in the bar he plans on taking you home.

“This here’s Crane and Sorry,” he points to the two in front of you. “And you can call me Pleasure. As in, it’s a pleasure to meet you. As in, the way all ladies feel after a night with me.” He winks. He actually winks.

Your brain is so shocked, you can’t form words. You should take this guy’s arm and bend it behind your back, the way your dad taught you. You should give him on of your grade-a verbal lashings.

But you don’t. The sheer audacity of this man has you frozen.

You try to make eye contact with Rooster, but Pleasure’s frame blocks your view.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster’s voice makes a relieved breath come from your mouth. His tone of voice would make anyone run for the hills, but it leaves you full of wanting.

Pleasure chuckles, meeting Rooster’s gaze. “Actually, it’s Lieutenant.”

Crane and Sorry exchange an amused look. Rooster’s face is set in a hard line. He reaches for Pleasure’s bicep, ripping him from the booth.

“I said to get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster is a whole head taller than the aviator that just had himself draped on you.

“Shouldn’t leave your girl all alone, dick.” Pleasure tells him, bowing up. Rooster’s mouth pulls up on the left, giving him one of his infamous cocky smirks. Second only to Hangman’s.

“Actually, it’s Captain. And I hope to God you’re in one of my classes. Lieutenant.”

At this, you see Pleasure audibly gulp, knowing he’s fucked up. Rooster still has a death grip on his arm.

“Come on, man. Make my day,” the words come out laced with venom.

Before things can get out of hand, you hop out of the booth and high tail it to Penny. Quickly giving her a synopsis, she rings the bell, signaling these guys need to be thrown out. Hangman, Omaha, and Coyote each grab one of the guys and drag them to the exit.

Rooster joins you at the bar, taking your face in his hands. Those brown eyes roam over you, searching.

Your hands come up to cradle his face, “Roos, I’m fine.”

“When I saw him draped over you, I saw red. Nobody touches my girl.” He leans down to place a kiss against your temple. Rooster’s words have your toes curling in your shoes. You’ve never seen this side of him.

You lower your hands to his shoulders, threading one of them in his curly hair that’s definitely longer than Military regulation.

“You’re the only one I want touching me,” you murmur in his ear, your face flushing.

“Yeah?” he murmurs back.

Not trusting your voice to not come out completely needy, you nod.

“Come on, guys. Quit being disgusting,” Maverick says to the two of you, feigning gagging.

Penny pops his hand over the bar, eliciting a laugh from him.

Rooster ignores him, placing a deep kiss onto your mouth.

“Take me home, baby,” you say, taking in those brown eyes.

“I don’t know, pretty girl, I don’t think I can get further than the Bronco,” he winks.

masterlist.

[sometimesanalice]

Bedside Manner

Summary: You were expecting the perfect summer afternoon with the Daggers, but when a game of dogfight football takes a turn for the worse, you’re left with a bleeding head and an aching heart. And it’s up to Bradley to show you his bedside manner.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K

Warnings: A little angst, a little pining, and two idiots in love.

It’s a perfect summer afternoon. Well, almost.

The sun is high in the sky and the steady salt kissed ocean breeze keeps it from being too uncomfortably hot. The coolers are filled with beers and sodas and a few pink cans of rosé that Coyote had brought. And the beach blankets were littered with open half-eaten family sized bags of chips and cubes of bright pink watermelon and containers of various dips and ziplocs with sun warmed and mostly melted chocolate chip cookies.

“You guys, really, I’m fine,” you state as adamantly as you can given the circumstances.

Sure, you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your throbbing, bleeding head. Sure, you are a little afraid to put your full weight on your left ankle and already dreading the long walk back to your car.

But it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything is…peachy. Or it will be as soon as they all stop looking at you like you’re about to crumple to the ground like some 1920’s silent film starlet from on the silver screen.

Nat has that deep pinch between her sharp brown eyes. Jake’s lips are pressed together in a firm white line. The rest of the team stands hovering around you in a misshapen semicircle, all sandy and sweaty, and wearing the concern painted across their faces.

All except for Rooster, who can’t seem to look at you at all.

“Clearly, you’re not,” Phoenix says flatly, clearly unamused by your attempts to minimize the situation. And you wish that just this once she could have let this go and follow your lead. But then she wouldn’t be Natasha Trace.

Your best friend since middle school had always been the most capable and sharpest person in the room and you loved that about her.

Normally.

But not so much when her keen assessment of you keeps you from being able to slink away quietly without fuss. 

“No, seriously. It’s just a little scratch. It’s not a big deal.” It sounds feeble even to your own ears. Trying to hold back a wince when the way you shake your head makes starbursts bloom behind your eyes.

You could have dealt with the pounding in your head if it weren’t for the relentless burning of your ankle that was only making things worse. One or the other would have been easier to manage, but both vying for your attention as the pain pulses with every heartbeat was miserable.

The sun was too hot, the kids frolicking the ocean were too loud, the sunscreen on your skin felt too greasy. All you wanted was a shower and your bed and to forget this whole day even happened.

You look around the group trying to gauge how successful your efforts are, but it’s clear that no one seems to be buying your brand of poorly performed bullshit. You wanted to crawl into yourself like a hermit crab, protected by your own shell, as six pairs of eyes all looked on at you sympathetically, while the pretty brown ones you wanted to see the most were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and trained down at the ground.

It was supposed to be a fun day.

You’d woken up that morning absolutely giddy about trading spreadsheets for sand and sunburns and sea salt tangled hair. Your cheery, new swimsuit already laid out and waiting for you from the night before.

There was something thrilling about hooky on a Friday with all of your favorite people that made you feel all kinds of young and free. Well, hooky for you. They’d been given the day off after a month of intensive training and testing of some new defensive software. They all deserved the break and you were more than happy to tag along.

You were always the good kid in school, never skipping, never missing a class. You’d felt like a rebellious teen as you crafted your ‘out of office’ email, a smug grin on your face like you were getting away with something. Even though you’d earned the right to use that PTO whichever way you wanted.

The anticipation of a snow day from your childhood school days had nothing on the intoxicating promise of a beach day on a golden summer Friday.

The team must have felt the same way too because the group chat the night before had been chaotically amusing. The excitement was palpable enough that you’d almost think you all lived in some landlocked state rather than San Diego, where it felt like all roads led to the beach whether you wanted them to or not.

Somewhere between the string of all capitalized sentences and exclamation points with a few well-chosen emojis scattered throughout, Natasha had managed to wrangle everyone in enough into sorting out who was responsible for bringing what. There wouldn’t be another veggie platter incident, not on her watch.

You’d felt bright and effervescent as you’d pulled into the parking lot, your eyes reflexively seeking out a blue Bronco that hadn’t arrived yet. With a beach chair over one shoulder and a beach bag over the other and a packed cooler bag in your hand, you’d made towards the multicolored sprawl of blankets and the striped peaks of the umbrellas, where you were met with the smiling faces of shiny happy people.

Some of the boys had rushed over to help you carry your things and added your offerings to the communal pile of snacks and sunscreen and bottles of water. It had been easy to fall into conversation with everyone as you set up your own little patch of paradise and shimmied out of your frayed cut-offs. Natasha had given you a wolf whistle and you’d laughed as you give her the finger.

And hour and a half later with an easy grin on his face, carrying a case of beer and two big Ziploc bags stuffed with what you learned later were homemade cookies balanced on top, was Rooster.

You’ve had plenty of beach days with them but every time you saw him in those damn denim shorts he always seemed determined to wear, regardless of how impractical they were, your mind still went a little fizzy as you took in just how well they clung to his thighs.

He’d taken the ribbing from his squad in stride as he unboxed the beers and added them to the collection already chilling in Bob’s bright yellow cooler. You were trying- and failing- to read your worn paperback book when he’d surprised you by plopping his things next to yours on your oversized towel and stole a chunk of juicy watermelon off of the plate balanced on your lap.

“Hey, book worm,” he grinned as he popped it into his mouth, “How’s my favorite girl doing?” That smile of his getting bigger when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Hi, Rooster,” you’d said looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses with an amused smirk.

And if your cheeks felt warm, it was from the sun and not the teasing tone of his raspy voice.

When he’d shrugged off his shirt to apply the sunscreen you’d brought with him in mind, the wink he’d shot you went straight to your head like champagne. The sun highlighting his impressive abs and sculpted shoulders didn’t help either as he took great efforts to cover his chest and stomach with the lotion. He had to be doing it on purpose, because he’d kept rubbing it in well past when the white hue faded. But who were you to complain? Melanoma was no joke.

“You wanna help me out?” he’d asked turning his back to you, looking over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure that he’d been flexing because he’d looked impossibly broad, every defined muscle standing out for eyes to map out and explore.

You’d been at war with yourself, because while your eager hands were desperate to touch him, you also knew that once you ran your hands along his solid frame that you’d never want to stop. That you wouldn’t be content until your fingertips had traced every inch of him.

You had been blessedly and devastatingly spared the choice.

“I got you, Rooster. My hands are already all sunscreen-y,” chimed in Bob, who had just finished rubbing his own freshly applied layer. “Wouldn’t want it to get on her book.”

You were only half relieved to be off the hook, while Bradley on the other hand was still looking at you expectantly, almost hopefully, still with the white and yellow bottle of sunscreen partly extended towards you.

“That’s so sweet of you, Bob-” you’d started.

“Yeah, so sweet-” Bradley grumbled under his breath.

“I appreciate you sparing my pages the sunscreen grease,” you’d said shooting Bob a smile, choosing to ignore Bradley’s comment completely. “Plus, your hands are bigger than mine. You’ll have him covered in no time.”  

Bradley looked between you and Bob before he passed the bottle to the other man, shaking his head a little in defeat. You’d giggled to yourself as you wiggled your book at an openly brooding Bradley, and then leaned back on your elbows to observe the way the attentive WSO made sure to carefully and thoroughly cover Bradley’s entire back.

Respectfully, of course.

Behind your sunglasses you’d admired all of Bradley’s bulk compared to Bob’s lithe grace. But in your defense, they were standing right in front of you and you’d already reread your book at least five times in the past, so it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the scene in front of you had been.

“You look awfully comfortable over there,” Rooster called out with a raised eyebrow.

“Just taking in the view,” you’d teased back.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he huffed as Bob finished up, giving him a thanks, man before tossing you back the bottle of sunscreen. He’d nudged his sunglasses down his nose and pinned you with his gaze, “Let me know if you want me to get your back. My hands are just as capable as his.” Even in the high heat of summer, the way he’d looked at you sent chills running along your arms.

You felt the way his keen eyes traveled from your face, down the deep-v of your swimsuit and along the swells of your breasts, and down your legs to your freshly painted toes. His mouth had ticked up in the corner then left you reeling and your heart pounding away in your chest as he’d strut off to go join Fanboy and Coyote by the mountain of snacks.

And that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. You never knew if he was just flirt-y or flirt-ing.

You hadn’t had a crush in ages, but when Nat had introduced you to her team five months ago, the man with the sunkissed curls and surprisingly attractive mustache had immediately caught your eye.

And as you’d gotten to know him, it had only gotten worse.

Not only was he very nice to look at and could make you laugh until your sides ached, but he also he had depth about him in a way that most men your age didn’t. You liked talking to him and listening to his stories. You liked learning his perspective on things. You liked being around him.

He made you feel interesting and special and funny and seen. You’ve never felt as comfortable in your own skin as you did when you were around him.

Rooster would send you flirty winks, give you less than subtle once overs, and could flash you such devastating slow grins that they’d have you trying to catch the butterflies they released in your stomach for hours after you went home.

But he’s never made a move.

If only he wouldn’t play hide and seek with his true intentions.

You felt like you were still waiting on some small clue whether he was serious or not. You didn’t know if he was just having fun with you or if he was into you and it was more than just friendly banter. It would be so much easier if he’d straight up tell you one way or another.

Needless to say, you’d let Nat be the one to help you with your sunscreen a little bit later. The idea of Bradley’s big hands on you, gliding along your sun-warmed skin and under the crisscross straps of your swimsuit, was too much for your hummingbird heart.

The sun climbed higher into the sky as the butter yellow midmorning transformed into a Midas-touched golden afternoon.

The squad had been able to reserve a fire pit and the plan had been to stay until the sunset. An endless summer day stretching out before them like a cat. They had nothing but time.

Clusters of people came together and split apart like a kaleidoscope as some went to take a dip in the ocean or raid the cooler and snack spread or go for a walk along the shore. Changing and shifting with the direction of the wind, going where the mood took them.

And for a peaceful moment, it had been you with your book and a napping Bradley sprawled out next to you on your towel with his arm flung over his eyes. Close enough that you could feel his warmth, almost but not quite touching. The sound of his soft breaths and the waves their own kind of lullaby as you contentedly read your book, turning your pages quietly to not disturb the man next to you, as the droplets of the Pacific dried on your skin.  

You still don’t know how you got roped into playing a round of dogfight football with the Navy’s best and brightest. You were more of a corn hole or ladder toss kind of girl, but Coyote had all but thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you out before you’d agreed to participate, conceding your defeat.

You were on a team with Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy against Nat, Rooster, Payback, and Bob. A few plays in and you had been getting the hang of it. They’d all been making sure to take care to go easy on you even in the chaos of two teams playing offensively and defensively at the same time. You were more than a little out of breath, but you were having fun.

Before the next snap, Mickey gave the most impassioned pep talk you’d ever heard, “Fuck luck, we don’t need luck. We gotta fucking win.” You had been about to laugh, but then you’d seen the looks on Jake and Javy’s faces and decided against it. Curious about the other team, you’d glanced over only to see Rooster looking back at you.

The calls had been made, the blur of plays in motion as people whirled and dodged and sprinted.

You’d just lobbed the ball to Javy before darting around Nat when a big, solid body collided with you. Hard. You’d felt the twinge of your ankle twisting in the sand right before the force sent you flying in the opposite direction you’d been headed.

The impact had been jarring. The air knocked from your lungs.

Where you should have been met with a mouthful of gritty sand, instead your head had connected with the rough surface of a partially buried rock. The low, thick thud reverberating throughout your whole body.

You’d been so stunned that you didn’t even register you were even on the ground until you heard the chorus of oh fucks and holy shits and goddamns and jesus christs over the ringing in your ears.

The game coming to an immediate and conclusive end.

For how many empty bottles and cans were sitting collected in a trash bag off to the side of your beach set up, they had been surprisingly quick to act as you blinked blankly, trying to clear the spots from your vision.

It was a silent ballet of efficiency as they instinctively fell into their roles, much like you imagined they did the sky. Everyone stepping up and then stepping back as they did their part, like the ebb and flow of waves.

Nat had carefully poured some fresh water from a bottle on your face to remove the sand that clung to the sweat and sunscreen on your skin. Then Jake had wordlessly passed her his clean spare shirt he’d jogged of to get to help stop the bleeding after Javy checked on your pupils to make sure they were the same size. While Bob stood off to the side holding your warped sunglasses in his hands, as if he was hopeful they could still be salvaged. Mickey and Reuben had been waiting in the wings giving you space, ready to help if they were needed, but not wanting to not crowd in.

And from the corner of your eye, you’d caught Rooster standing a couple feet away with his hands in his hair looking absolutely wrecked.

“Bradley?” you’d tried, even though his name stuck to your teeth. But he’d just shook his head at you before turning away slightly, like he couldn’t look at you, which made your heart sting as well.

They only allowed you to move to sit up after they were content with the answer to their questions- What day is it? Friday. Where are you? San Diego. What else hurts? My ankle and my pride.

It wasn’t until someone hauled you up from underneath your armpits that the throbbing and stinging and aching settled over you. The pain seeping and spreading through muscle and bone like an inky oil spill.

It’s still an almost perfect summer afternoon except for the fact you hate everything about this.

You hate the way they’re gathered around you with too many pairs of assessing eyes pinned on you. You hate that you’re the reason the game of dogfight football came to a definitive and abrupt end. You hate that you’re the reason their carefree and fun afternoon off has turned into this.

There’s a pressure building behind your eyes, the hot tears of hurt and frustration and embarrassment are clamoring to be released. You have to bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

And it doesn’t help that you’re the type who’d rather lick your wounds in peace.

You just need to get back to your car and you can figure things out on your own from there. You just need a moment to yourself.

As you open your mouth to argue your case again, Jake puts his hand up and stops you before you’ve even had a chance to start, “I hate to break it to you, sugar, but you’re not fooling any of us.” He says it gently, but gives you a pointed look at the way you’re leaning heavily on your right leg to keep the pressure off of your left ankle.

“That head wound is not a little scratch. Just like your ankle isn’t just a little puffy, when it’s twice the size it should be. You need to go to the Emergency Room,” Nat says, final and resolute. A lifetime of friendship has taught you not to argue when she has that look in her eyes, the one that says try me, I dare you.

They all talk over you as they figure out who is the most sober of the group after your suggestion to call yourself an Uber is immediately shot down. Drinks are being counted on fingers, and memories are searched to make sure every sip and bottle and can is accounted for.

Your eyes drift over to the man who is still actively avoiding looking at you, even as he talks to everyone else on the team. You aren’t paying too close attention to what he is saying, but you can hear the short, clipped staccato of his words.

Bradley’s shoulders are tinged a little pink even though you know for a fact that you had purposely passed him the 65 SPF. His eyes are hidden behind his dark green tinted sunglasses, but you don’t need to see them when you can read his body language better than any book.

His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, the tendons in his forearms flexing and shifting, like he is squeezing and releasing his fists from where they’re tucked under his biceps. Everything in his body looks coiled tight and strained, so at odds with the easy going and loose-limbed man you know him to be.

You don’t realize just how much you’ve zoned out until Natasha has to say your name a couple time before you pull your gaze away from Bradley and back to her.

“Ok, it’s settled,” Nat informs you, “Rooster’s going to take you.” You barely nod your head in acknowledgement when she tells you, because it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach now too.

“It’s the least he can do,” Jake drawls.

“That’s not fair-” you start, defensively.

“Fuck off, Bagman-” Rooster snaps.

The rage in his voice shocks you, you’ve never heard that much heat from him before. There’s none of the teasing tone that usually underscores their banter. Jake puts both of his hands up placatingly like my bad, folks and Javy just shakes his head and sighs.

And this time when you look at Bradley, he is finally looking back at you with a deep furrow in his brow. His jaw is clenched tight, that muscle ticking and jumping, as he takes in the way you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your forehead.

Not exactly the way you’d hoped he’d be looking at you when you put on your new blue and white striped swimsuit this morning.

The one you’d bought because you wanted to make him look.

Just not like this.

With everything sorted the rest of the team trickles away a smattering of take cares and get better soons and let us know if you need anythings. But not before Mickey hands Rooster his stuff and passes Nat your bag and sandals. He gives you the gentlest of squeezes on your shoulder before he leaves to join everyone else back on little part of the beach you all had claimed before things went to shit.

Your group of eight now downsized to a trio.

Bradley is quick to roughly pull on his tank and shirt, and Nat fishes out your car keys from your bag as she waits for him to slip his shoes on. When he’s ready she passes it to him and he silently slides it over his arm.

Nat bends down to help gingerly glide your feet into your sandals, “I’ll grab the rest your things and drop them off at your place and then one of the boys will drop off your car later. We’ve got it all covered, ok?”

“Thanks, Nat,” you say quietly, trying to hold back a wince as she slips the left one on, your ankle pulsing in tempo with your heartbeat.

“Best friends don’t say thank you, they just do,” she says matter-of-factly as she stands. It’s the same thing you’d told her after you’d dumped a carton of strawberry milk on Carly Radke for outing Natasha your freshman year in high school. It was only time you’d ever gotten detention, but it had been worth it.

“They just do,” you repeat with a small smile.

You’re so grateful that your friendship with her is one that has spanned years. That you’ve been able seen one another grow and change and come into their own, but that you haven’t outgrown each other. She’s the person you want by your side and having your back. There is no one quite like Natasha Trace.

She turns to Bradley and you watch him stand a little taller under her sharp eyes, your straw tote still dangling from his forearm.

“You good?” Nat asks him with a look in her eye that you can’t place. And you’re reminded that even though she’s your best friend, that he has also earned a spot as one of her closest friends. Their relationship built over years and experiences that you could never fully understand. Different, but just as deep.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her,” Rooster promises with a stiff nod, as he gives her his word. It might have made your heart beat a little faster if you didn’t feel like such a burden. That it’s simply a twist of fate and three less drinks than everyone else for the reason that he’s the one to look after you. That he’s the one stuck with you.

“I know you will,” she says softer now, patting his shoulder, “Keep me posted.” Nat presses a kiss to your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile then heads off to go rejoin everyone else.

You watch her go with longing. The cheerful beach set up with its colorful blankets and umbrellas looks more like a desert mirage now. The sweet coconut scented potential of what the day could have been now forever out of reach.

And then it’s just you and Bradley and the sound of the waves and cries of seagulls.

The two of you silent and motionless.

You feel one wrong move and the fragile attempt of the stiff upper lip you’ve cocooned yourself in will crack open and all the soft parts of you will seep out into the sand beneath your feet.

His expression is shuttered closed as he bends a bit like he is going to pick you up.

“Woah, buddy, what are you doing?” You’re squinting into the sun as you look at him. You’d step into his shadow to block it, since you’re now in need of a new pair of sunglasses, but that would mean moving to the left which isn’t an option with your ankle.

“Buddy,” he grunts under his breath, slipping off his sunglasses and carefully putting them on your face, being mindful of stinging scrapes and wad of soft cotton you’re holding to your head. “They’re definitely going to have to run concussion protocol on you,” he mutters more to himself than to you, “I’m taking you to the Bronco and then we’re going the ER, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, Rooster,” you grit out, even rolling your eyes hurts, “But I don’t need you to carry me.”

Everything about this was excruciating and embarrassing enough without him being the Clark Gable to your Vivian Leigh. Maybe you could lean on him and hop over to his car? Like a six-foot-one pair of crutches with good hair.

“Take a step without wincing and I’ll think about it,” he says firmly, pointedly calling your bluff. There’s an expectant look of go on then, whenever you’re ready on his face. Because he knows he’s right, and you do too.

You don’t even bother to make a move, but the way your lower lips wobbles speaks volumes.

“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, almost like pains him to be right.

He bends a little to hook his arms around your knees and back to lift you up, and this time you let him. Your free arm automatically wrapping around the back of his neck. And he starts off towards the winking windshields of the parking lot.

You’ve thought about what it would be like to be wrapped up in Bradley’s arms, how good it would feel to be pressed closed against him. And now you are and it’s nothing like you’ve imagined, because there isn’t anything sweet or swoon-worthy about how you ended up in them. You’re his duty, you’re not his desire.

All your sandcastle hopes have been washed away by the tide.

You’re so frustrated. You’re frustrated by the day, by yourself, by him.

This time you can’t blink back the tears that well up in your eyes. They flood through your tear ducts carving hot trails down your sun-tinged cheeks.

You want the Bradley from earlier. 

The one who stole your watermelon with warmth in his eyes.

The one who dozed next to you in the sun like a cat, his features soft free of the tension he now holds in his shoulders.

You want your Bradley.

The one who’d whispered cheeky comments in your ear whenever the team got into lighthearted tequila fueled arguments about things like whether a hot dog was a sandwich.

The one who’d always go up to the bar with you on busy nights at the Hard Deck and make sure you didn’t get bumped into on the way back to your friends with your freshly refilled drinks.

You’re aching, aching. Everywhere.

For a brief moment, as you swipe at your tears, you’re happy for the throbbing in your head and ankle, so that way you don’t have to think about the stinging in your heart.

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting,” Rooster says gentle and low as you sniffle, but you can hear the thickness of the words in his throat. The term of endearment is the sweetest of nothings, making your tears come faster. Where it should ease the heartache, all it does is make you angry at yourself for giving your emotions away. “We’re almost to the Bronco. It’s ok, we’re gonna get you taken care of, I promise.”

We.

You wanted that with him.

You want to press both of your hands to his cheeks to make him look you in the eyes to ask him is it going to be you and me together?  You’ve been a fool for love before, but you didn’t know if could take another hit-and-run with your heart.

The salt of your tears makes your cheeks feel tight and itchy as the summer breeze dries them on your skin.

Bradley carries you like you weigh nothing, but cradles you like you’re the most precious things he’s ever held. He’s mindful of any dips in the sand and gives wide berth around the college kids playing volleyball close to the entry back to the parking lot.

When he reaches the Bronco, he sets you down gently, making sure both of your feet are planted on the asphalt before letting go of you to unlock his car. He tells you to wait a moment when you move to open the passenger side door.

“I never know when I might get called up for an emergency deployment, so I like to have some extra clothes just in case,” he explains as he digs around in the backseat, pulling out a pair of gray athletic shorts.

“Oh.” And you realize you’re still just clad in your striped swimsuit. “Thank you for sparing me from the hospital germs,” you say lightly, an attempt at a joke to break the ice. One that doesn’t land, since instead of cracking a grin he just presses his lips together in a firm line and nods.

Bradley crouches low in front of you and you put a hand on his shoulder for balance as you lean against the Bronco, still trying to keep as much pressure off your left ankle as possible as you step into them. He’s looking up at you and even through his sunglasses perched on your nose, you swear his brown eyes get a shade darker as he eases the shorts up your legs. You’re touched by the effort as he ties the strings in a lopsided bow, even if things are feeling tense between the two of you.

“Think this’ll be easier,” he mumbles shrugging off his light blue button up. You’ve always liked this one, with its soft pastel pink and minty green watercolor prints of net fishermen and hula girls and palm trees.

He holds it open for you, helping you thread your arm through it, and then takes over holding Jake’s now ruined shirt to your head so that you can get your other arm past the sleeve. It smells like him, citrus and amber. Your fingers brush against each other when you reclaim the makeshift bandage, and he adjusts his shirt so that it hangs over your shoulders just right.

It’s an awkward kind silent as Rooster helps lift you into the Bronco with his strong hands around your hips. He is all smooth efficiency as he buckles you in with a click. You pass him back his sunglasses the same moment he hands you your tote bag, and it almost feels like a hostage exchange.

He says nothing as he hauls himself into the driver’s side. The car rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition and a cheery song from the 80’s station on the radio comes on. Bradley quick to turn the volume down low. His thumb brushing your shoulder as he sets his hand on the back of your seat to look behind him as he carefully backs out of the spot.

It’s never felt this strained with him before.

It’s so painfully obvious that the two of you are walking on eggshells around each other. You can almost feel the wall that’s gone up around him. The white noise of the radio drowned out by the hum of the road as he drives in near silence.

Your day has been most effectively ruined by a chunk of sedimentary rock, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still recoup what’s left of it.

He could still have the perfect summer afternoon.

He could still go back to your friends and their perfect beach set up and laugh with them as Coyote keeps accidentally setting marshmallows on fire. He could still catch the bold oranges and soft pinks of the sunset with all the satisfied contentment he deserved to experience.

“You can leave me and go back, you know. I’ll be ok if you just want drop me off and then head back to the beach,” you say looking down at your fingers as you trace the stitching of his leather seats.

When he doesn’t answer right away, you glance over at him. The vein in his neck is standing out boldly against the column of his throat.

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who would leave someone at the ER alone?” he asks, his voice rougher than sandpaper.

“No. No, of course not,” you say emphatically, “That’s why I’m giving you permission.”

“Permission?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.

“Yes, permission,” you say, clipped.

You’re giving him an out, why doesn’t he get that?

He heaves a big sigh and grunts. “Is it… Would you rather have Bob- with his big hands- here instead?” Bradley asks, frustration leaking out around the edges of his words.

“Bob with his big hands?” you repeat baffled, “What does Bob have to do with anything about this?”

“That’s what you said earlier, sweetheart. I’m just citing the source. Or I can call Phoenix? Or…” he pauses glancing at the t-shirt pressed to your head, “Or even Seresin. Once we get you checked in I can call any of them an Uber or something, and they can be there with you, if you don’t want me.”

“No, Rooster, I don’t want anyone else.” You wince at the implication and hope it doesn’t read into it further than the current situation to two of you are wading through like quick sand.

“Ok, good,��� he grumbles.

“Great,” you lob back.

His hand tightens on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, “Then where is this even coming from?” The action makes his thick forearm flex in this most delicious of ways that you’d appreciate more if you didn’t feel the anger simmering low in your stomach.

“It’s pretty damn clear that you’d rather be back there, Rooster. Or literally anywhere else right now.” You flip down the sun visor with more force than it deserves, regretting that you gave him his sunglasses back when the bright California sun in your eyes turns your headache into a full-blown migraine.

“Of course, I’d rather be anywhere else!” he says hotly, tossing his sunglasses back in your lap, “Do you think I like that you’re hurt and that we’re on our way to the hospital?” You shove them on your face with an angry huff.

A car speeds by blaring their horn as they pass by.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” he grunts but speed of the Bronco doesn’t change, “Asshole.”

Bradley’s driving five miles under the posted limit, and you know for a fact he religiously drives at least ten miles over. And his turns have been smoother than butter, as if he is trying not to jostle you anymore than you’d already been today.

You are so tired of this hot and cold thing that he’s doing. His words and his deeds weren’t going hand in hand. He keeps giving you the cold shoulder, but is also so in tune with your every movement and need.

Gingerly, you angle yourself in your seat to look at him better, resting your tired left arm on the back of your seat and taking in his strong profile.

“Why are you being like this?” you demand, waving your free hand in a vaguely in his general direction.

“Like what? I’m not being like anything,” he retorts, making the same vague hand gesture as you did a moment earlier.

And oh, if that doesn’t fill your chest with hot indignation. That low simmering anger has turned into a full roiling boil as you shift in your seat trying to get your ankle in a position where it doesn’t hurt.

“Seriously, Rooster? I can feel tension rolling off of you in waves. You’ve been like this since everything turned to complete shit on the beach. I didn’t mean to ruin your day, I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better,” you bite out unable to keep things bottled up anymore.

He sucks in a sharp breath, “Are you kidding me right now? You think you ruined my day?” He glances from the road to you and back again, his brown eyes wide and searching.

“Yes?” Or so you’d thought until you’d seen the shock written all over his face, but now you weren’t so sure. It’s like you’ve dumped ice water on him instead of simply calling him out. “I feel like you’re taking it out on me and I don’t know why.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rooster swears under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I’m mad at myself, because I ruined your day.  I should have been more careful, I should have been looking out for you. It’s not like you’re hard to miss in that swimsuit.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment, but you choose to ignore it.

Misery drips from his words like spilled ink off a page. You knew he was upset, but you didn’t realize he was upset about that. That he’s shouldering this fluke of fate as if it is his burden to bear. Some of the anger you’ve been feeling leaves your body like the tide washing out back out to sea. You’re still upset at him for how he has been acting up until this point, but you’re not mad at him about that.

“Bradley, no. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, an accident I’m responsible for,” he says hoarsely, rubbing roughly at his forehead. “God, I can still hear the sound it made when you hit that rock and it makes me feel sick. I would give anything to undo that moment. I need you to know that.”

He is being so hard on himself and your heart squeezes, this time in sympathy rather than hurt. He didn’t place that rock in the sand, the both of you were victims of circumstance.

“It could have happened to anyone. It could have been anyone,” you press delicately, trying to get him to hear you, shifting in your seat again still uncomfortable.

The sunshine bounces off of his slumped shoulders as he sighs raggedly.

“But it happened to you and it’s my fault. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you’ve been crying. And it’s because of me.” He reaches down with his right hand and lifts up your leg so that you can rest it on his thigh, some of the ache alleviating immediately. He asks quietly, “That better?”

“Yes, thank you,” you murmur. He looks so upset, and all you want to do is curl into his lap. You want to hold him and you want to be held by him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”

You expect him to move his hand back to the steering wheel, but he keeps it on your leg. His thumb stroking your still slightly sandy shin. Your cheery toenail polish at odds with the color blooming around your ankle.

Bradley’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, “Yeah, I do. I know that. But I still blame myself.”

The Bronco rolls to a soft stop at the light. There’s enough traffic that you know you’ll be here for a bit, and so does he since he turns in his seat to look fully at you. You take his sunglasses off, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt that rests above your heart, so nothing stands between his brown eyes and yours.

“So, you’re going to keep beating yourself up over it and icing me out? Making me feel worse? For what, Bradley? Because you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s not fair to me or to you.”

“Shit,” he mutters, his left hand running through his curls. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. I’ve been in my head feeling so damn guilty that I’ve been such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”

You’re about to answer him that when a horn startles you, making you jump in the leather seat. You see the light is green, the car that had been in front of you is gliding through the intersection passing under a blue sign pointing the way to the hospital.

“Bradley, the light.”

The car behind the two of you honks their horn again.

“They can wait. This is important, you are important. Do you forgive me?” There’s an underscore of need that punctuates his question.

“Yes, of course,” you say easily and sincerely. There’s so much remorse in his eyes, you would have forgiven him with that look alone.

“Thank you,” he breathes out in relief. And then he smiles at you for the first time since the beach and that ache in your heart is completely soothed, bandaged by that soft way he is looking at you.

Atlas no longer, he can simply be Bradley.

He takes his foot off the brake and by some miracle he’s able to make it through the light before it turns red again. You can see the tall structure of the parking lot near the hospital poking out above the line of the treetops.

The destination is closer than ever, but there are still things on your mind.

“And you aren’t an asshole, Bradley. But your bedside manner could definitely use some work,” you tease with a smile of your own.

“Baby, I’ve been trying to show you my bedside manner, but you keep holding me at arm’s length,” he groans dramatically.

The idea of experiencing Bradley Bradshaw’s bedside manner makes you feel all kinds of weak in the knees, even as you’re seated in his Bronco with your leg propped up in his lap, his big hand skating up and down along your shin comfortingly.

“How can you even say that with a straight face? You’ve never made a move!” you exclaim incredulously, “I was even the one to ask for your phone number, if you remember.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I hit on you all the time,” he argues with your favorite brand of Bradshaw banter, “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the green light, sweetheart.”

“I thought you were supposed to be pretty and smart,” you smirk.

He barks a laugh and the last tendrils of all the tension and all the pressure that had been swirling around you like a marine layer evaporates.

“You saying I’ve had the green light this whole time?” He looks over at you with a boyish smile, you like the way you feel when he looks at you like this.

“What I’m saying, Bradley, is if you’d have actually asked me out I would have said yes.” You press your toes into the muscle of his thick thigh and immediately regret it, wincing as pain ripples around your ankle.

He makes a sympathetic sound deep in his chest, “Sounds like I’ve been an idiot.”

“A very pretty one,” you allow, leaning your aching head back against the back seat.

“At least there’s that,” he concedes good-naturedly as he pulls into the parking lot, turning on his blinker for a spot opening up near the entrance to the Emergency Room by some twist of fate, one that’s in your favor this time.

Bradley pulls into the empty spot and kills the engine turning to you. He gently eases your foot back down onto the sandy floormat of the Bronco and leans into unbuckle your seatbelt.

He’s so close now looking up at you from under his eyelashes, and your breath catches in your throat. He moves closer, you can see the bits of hazel that surround his pupils. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head up, lips parting at the anticipation of his kiss.

There’s no holding back the noise of dissatisfaction you make when his lips press a tender kiss to your cheek. You lean into him wanting to feel, wanting him to give you more. His warm breath coasts over your skin as he chuckles. You can feel the way his lips are pulled up into a smile.

“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls away, his eyes lingering on your lips. “My mom raised me not to go for the kiss on the first date. Or ones with head wounds and potential concussions.”

“Some first date,” you lament jokingly, looking in at the fluorescent lights awaiting you inside the hospital. You’d rather skip over this part entirely, but you’re ready to be done with holding Jake’s shirt to your head. “Nothing like insurance cards and scrubs to really set the mood.”

“Mmm. How about this, after we’re done here, I’ll take you through whatever drive-thru you want-”

“In-N-Out,” you cut in without a second thought. The novelty of it still hasn’t worn off on you, even if the fries are terrible.

“Ok,” he grins, “I’ll take you through in In-N-Out and get you your number two combo with mustard and grilled onions with a vanilla shake.” He pauses waiting for your nod of approval, looking more than pleased with himself when you acknowledge he got your order right.

“I like the sound of this so far,” you hum.

“Well that’s good. Since it’ll be our first date, I want to set that bar high,” he says giving you a wink. And there are those butterflies again, this time you don’t try to catch them with a net. They’re free to flutter around as they wish.

“If you really want to impress me, you’ll also take me through the McDonald’s drive-thru for their fries,” you muse.

“Done.”

“I was kidding,” you laugh, shaking your head at him disbelievingly and thoroughly charmed.

“Well, I wasn’t. So after we get you fed, give or take some fries, I will bring you home. I’ll get you whatever you need, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Think you might be on crutches for a bit, sweetheart,” he says softly, playing with the ends of your hair. “And then in the morning, if you’re up for it, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or bring you breakfast. Whatever you want. We can call that date number two.”

“And then you’ll kiss me?”

“And then I’ll kiss you,” he promises, offering you a crooked pinky finger. You beam and you wrap your own around his.

He slips out of the driver’s seat leaving you to contemplate the terms of his offer as he rounds the front of the Bronco. The nurses are going to get an eyeful of him in only those snug jean shorts and thin white tank. You make a mental note to avoid looking at him if they have to connect you to a heart rate monitor, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Not yet anyways.

“I have counteroffer,” you announce turning your body towards him as he opens your door for you.

“Let’s hear it, baby,” he says with a grin that almost makes you forget how bad your head and ankle hurt, “Shoot.”

“We still go to In-N-Out, but then in the morning you make me breakfast in bed with some of those famous Bradshaw pancakes I’ve heard about,” you say, as he steps in between your legs, “Seems like a good way to work on that bedside manner of yours.”

“I think you’re going to like my bedside manner, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

You tilt your head at him, taking in the sunkissed strands in his hair and the affection in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

“Guess we will,” he rasps.

Rooster drops another sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering for you to stay put, and then he struts off towards the automatic doors of the Emergency Room. Leaving you alone with the butterflies in your stomach and the hope in your heart.

You dig your phone out of your straw tote and check the time, doing the math in your head.

There are a few messages from Nat and other people on the team already checking in, but you know you’ll have time to reply to them later as you wait with Bradley sitting by your side.

You look up and see he’s got a wheelchair now and is making his way back to you, wearing a soft smile on his face just for you.

Only seventeen more hours until you get to kiss Bradley Bradshaw and you can’t wait.

You’ve got that forever feeling about him.

Oh, oh, oh.

Thank you for reading! Rock on. Oh that joke was schist, I'll see myself out.

This was written as part of @roosterforme's Rocktober Playlist! You can check out all the other great submissions here!

The song that inspired this story was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up"

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @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

[munsonsmixtapes]

Do Me a Favor?

Find part two here!

Eddie x fem!shy!bestie!reader

Summary: you buy some weed from your best friend Eddie and after shotgunning from him, you both find yourselves wanting more

word count: 6k

cw: MDNI 18+, smut, oral (f receiving)

The cold air nipped at your skin as you knocked on the trailer door. You tightened your cardigan around you as waited for someone to answer, wondering what the hell you had been doing there. You didn’t smoke weed. You didn’t buy it either, but maybe you just wanted to see the cute metalhead who was supposedly the best dealer in town, even though he was one of your closest friends and let you come over whenever you wanted.

You had been friends with Eddie Munson since that one time he helped you pick the books that you had dropped when someone had bumped into you in the hallway in the tenth grade. He had grabbed your copy of Lord of the Rings and the two of you yapped about it all the way to the cafeteria where he let you sit with his group.

After letting you sit with him every day, he eventually asked you to join Hellfire Club and you happily agreed. Not long after, the two of you found yourselves hanging out outside of the club, occasionally getting dinner or watching a movie at your house.

Over time, you started to develop romantic feelings because how could you not have? Eddie was just so sweet and caring and he looked out for you like no one else did. And maybe it was silly to crush on your best friend, but you couldn’t help it. Aside from his charming personality, he also happened to be very easy on the eyes.

The door opened, pulling you out of your thoughts and there Eddie was on the other side, looking like something out of your dreams in his cropped band t-shirt and sweatpants that he had rolled down a few times, giving you a great view of the patch of hair that was right under his belly button.

“Y/n?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He hadn’t been expecting you, but couldn’t help but feel intrigued to know why you were there.

“Hi, Eddie,” you nodded at him, not quite able to look him in the eye. You had hyped yourself up on the way there, but now that he was actually standing in front of you, you were feeling shy.

“What are you doing here?” He scratched the back of his head, causing his shirt to ride up even more and your mind suddenly went blank. “Thought you had to work.”

“I just got off and I um-I was wondering if I could buy some weed from you.” Eddie laughed at that. He always saw you as an innocent little thing who did everything she was supposed to. A goody-two-shoes that never broke the rules.

“Well,” he let out a chuckle. “I never thought I’d see the day.” Though, he kind of liked the idea of selling weed to you. Not only was it a funny thought, imagining you actually smoking the stuff, but it seemed like you were on edge every time he saw you and he thought you could use something to calm you down.

“We’re not in high school anymore. I’ve changed.” There was a little truth to your statement, but not much. The only thing that had changed about you since high school was that maybe you had a little more confidence and that you had finally gotten your braces off. Other than that, you were pretty much the same.

“So you have,” he nodded. “Well, why don’t you come inside and I’ll show you what I’ve got?” He held the door open for you as you stepped inside, letting it slam behind you. You looked around the place, loving how cozy it felt, especially since you were no longer in the cold weather. You rubbed your hands up and down your arms as you stepped further inside, trying to bring some more warmth to your body. You should have known that it was going to be a bad idea riding your bike across town without a jacket, but the damage was already done.

“The stuff’s in my room if you want to follow me.” Eddie couldn’t help but notice how quiet you were, but he had to admit that he thought it was cute. He knew that that was just who you were, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was making you feel nervous. He didn’t want you to feel pressured into taking the weed if you really didn’t want it. He didn’t know why he cared so much, it was just a normal sale.

Except it wasn’t. You were his best friend and had no experience with drugs whatsoever. He wanted to know why you had a sudden interest, but didn’t feel like it was his business to ask, no matter how close the two of you were.

Eddie had always thought you were pretty, but also thought that you were out of his league. He was the town freak and you were the shy girl who always had her nose in a book. He didn’t think that the two of you were exactly a great match. He didn’t want anyone starting rumors about you too, so he let you slip through his fingers. He decided that he was already risking enough by being friends with you.

But now there you were, standing in the doorway of his room, somehow having gotten prettier since he had seen you a few days ago. You were avoiding his eye contact, staring at the desk that was behind him. You were eyeing the stack of books that were sitting on top of it, wondering what they were, noticing that they were different than the ones that had been there before.

You slowly stepped further into the room, making a beeline for the stack, noticing that they were all new books. You slowly looked at all the covers, most of them being ones you had never heard of, but you were interested in every single one as soon as you read the back. Your face lit up at the book that was on the very bottom. It was your current favorite fantasy novel that you had read more times than you had cared to admit, but you had lost your copy and hadn’t been able to get a new one. You opened the book and let out a gasp at the little signature on the first page, wondering if he had bought it like that or if there was a signing that you didn’t know about.

Eddie watched you, still finding the way that you mumbled to words that were printed on the books to yourself adorable. For a second, he had completely forgotten why you were there. For a second, he had been convinced that you were there to hang out with him like usual.

“I can’t believe you have a signed copy of this.” You turned to face him, showing him the signature. He just let out a chuckle at that, finding you even more adorable. He didn’t think he had ever seen you so animated in the years that he had known you. “How did I not know this?”

“Oh, yeah, I got it a couple weeks ago,” he shrugged. “I honestly forgot that I had it.” The thing had been sitting on his desk since after the signing and he really had forgotten about it, his obsession with it being completely abandoned for another. “You can…keep it if you want.” Your eyes lit up at his suggestion but you quickly slumped your shoulders.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t take it from you.” You set the book back on the desk, knowing that you would have felt bad taking something like that from him. Even though it looked like it hadn’t been touched in a while, you could tell that it meant something to him.

“No,” he shook his head, moving towards you. He took the book and shoved it into your hands, his touching yours as he did so. “Take it, l/n. Please. It’s just been collecting dust here and a thing like that deserves to go to a good home.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes bored into yours to show you how serious he was and you couldn’t help but stare into them. They were hypnotizing, so brown and pretty. You had always been a sucker for brown eyes, especially Eddie’s. You knew that you’d do anything he asked just by looking into them, and you were sure that if he knew that fact, he would have gotten you into trouble.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” His hands were still on yours and you were so aware of his touch, loving how soft but rough his skin was. You could feel the cold metal that was his rings against your fingers that was mixed with the warmness of his hands. You just wanted to take them into your own, interlacing your fingers with his.

Eddie took the book from your hands and removed one of the straps of your tote bag from your shoulder and let the book fall inside before putting the strap right back. A smirk kicked up at the corner of his lips and you stared at them, thinking about how kissable they looked. They were so pink and plump and you just wanted to know what they felt like slotted between yours.

“Just so you don’t think about leaving it here,” he winked then turned on his heel to head to his bedside table. He pulled out a tin lunchbox from the bottom shelf and set it on the bed before opening it. He rifled through it, pulling out multiple plastic bags, trying to remember if he even had anything for a beginner. Most of the stuff he had was for people with a much higher tolerance and he didn’t want to start you on something you couldn’t handle.

Eddie found just what he was looking for at the bottom of the lunchbox and held it up to the light just to make sure, then nodded. He then closed the lunchbox and put it back where he found it and sat down on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him. You hesitantly sat down next to him, so close to the other end that if you sat any farther away from him, you’d fall to the floor.

Your heart was racing in your chest. You weren’t even going to smoke the stuff, you just wanted to be able to say that you bought some. Once you got home, you had every intention of throwing it into a drawer, never to be touched again. You just were afraid of what it would do to you so you definitely weren’t going to smoke it alone. That was just too scary. Maybe if you had more confidence, you could have asked him to smoke it with you.

“How much?” You asked, reaching for the money you had in your pocket and Eddie just shook his head.

“No need, l/n,” he rested his hand on top of yours to stop you. “First one’s always free,” he winked and your cheeks flushed.

“Could you do me a favor?” You asked, not even thinking about the words that were coming out of your mouth. Eddie titled his head to the side, wondering what you could have possibly wanted him to do for you.

“Anything,” he nodded quickly, ready to do whatever you asked, no matter how weird or ridiculous. “You know that.”

“Would you…want to smoke with me?” That was the last thing he was expecting to ask. He didn’t think that you ever want to get high with him.

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing. He hoped you couldn’t hear how hard his heart was beating his chest as he suddenly felt nervous about the whole thing. “You really want to?” He just wanted to be sure before he started anything.

“Please.” The words came out more desperate than you had intended, but you didn’t even care. You were just happy that he said the words you had been afraid to. Now you didn’t have to worry. He'd be right there to help you if something went wrong and you were sure that he wouldn’t judge if you did something that wasn’t right.

“Alright, well, I’m just gonna roll this up, okay?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at his desk as he held up the baggie with his other hand. You felt a weight lift off your shoulders as Eddie gave you a reassuring smile, standing from his bed.

You just nodded in response and he pulled his chair out, sitting at his desk, getting to work. You stayed on the bed, not wanting to get into his space, just letting him do whatever he needed to. You sat patiently, trying not to think too much about what you were doing or you were going to back out. You only got one chance to smoke with your crush and you were going to take it.

Once Eddie had the joint all rolled up, he turned in his chair to face you then made his way back to the bed, sitting down on it hesitantly. Your comfort was his top priority and he was fully prepared to stop everything if you didn’t want to continue.He turned to face you, giving you his full attention. He had never smoked with a first-timer, but he still knew exactly what to do. He wanted to give you options, letting you have full control of the situation.

“So, we can either take turns or we can shotgun, which is where I inhale the smoke and blow it into your mouth. Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” He was being so sweet and gentle and it was getting really difficult for you to not fall for him even harder. You weighed your options and decided that shotgunning was probably the best idea. That way, there was less of a chance that you’d choke and maybe you just wanted to be close to Eddie.

“Can we…shotgun?” You words came out unsure and Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed, wanting to make sure that was actually what you wanted. You nodded enthusiastically, scooting closer to him again. “That’s what I want to do.”

“Then let’s do it.” Eddie turned to grab his lighter from his bedside table and smiled to himself since he had secretly wanted you to pick shotgun. He wanted to be able to touch you, to feel your lips on his, the whole idea making him a little hard. Once he had the lighter, he put the joint between his fingers before holding the lighter out to you. “Wanna do the honors, cutie?”

“Sure,” you nodded and took the lighter from him. You sparked the lighter up and cupped your hand around the joint like you had seen in movies and let it catch the flame before pulling away. You kept hold of the lighter as Eddie beckoned you forward with his free hand.

“C’mere,” he said and you obeyed, moving so you were sitting crisscrossed in front of him. He mimicked your actions and you both got so close that your legs were touching. “Make sure the smoke is in your mouth before inhaling, okay? Don’t want you choking.” You just nodded and Eddie took a drag and held the smoke in his mouth as you leaned forward even more. Your lips parted and Eddie reached up to your face slowly, giving you a look as if asking for permission.

“Do what you need to do,” you told him and his fingers took hold of your chin. His thumb reached up to your bottom lip and he pulled it down as if asking you to open your mouth wider. After it was wide enough, his hand moved to your cheek, pulling your face to his. He gingerly opened up, pressing his lips to your before pushing the smoke into your mouth. You did as he instructed and waited until all of the smoke was in your mouth before you took a deep breath.

Eddie leaned away so you could exhale, gauging your reaction to make sure that you were okay. Just from your first hit, you had been doing a lot better than other first-timers he had seen. Sure, you had only done well because he had told you what to do, but he still thought that you were a natural.

“I don’t feel anything.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you still felt very sober and Eddie just laughed in response.

“You’re not going to feel anything right away, hon.” His hand moved to your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Do you want another hit?”

“Yes,” you nodded and Eddie took another puff and held the joint away from the both of you as he grabbed hold of your waist, pressing his open mouth to yours once again. He blew the smoke into your mouth and you inhaled before you were supposed to, pulling away to cough into your arm. You had been so focused on the way Eddie’s lips felt against yours that you had completely forgotten what you were supposed to do.

“You okay?” He asked, his hand moving to your back, giving it a sympathetic rub. You just held your thumb up as an indication as you continued to cough. “C’mon, let’s go get some water.”

He stubbed the joint out onto his desk then took you by the hand, pulling you from the bed. You continued to cough all the way to the kitchen and couldn’t believe that you had ruined the good time you were having because you had gotten distracted.

Eddie quickly grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets and filled it up with water from the tap before handing it to you. You quickly gulped down as much of the beverage as you could and let out a sigh of relief as you set the empty glass down on the counter.

“You okay? You good?” He asked, the words rushing out of his mouth. He stood in front of you, his hands resting on your back, rubbing up and down in a comforting manner. You leaned into him, your forehead pressing against his chin.

Eddie didn’t know why he felt the need to comfort you and why it had become second nature to him when he was never good at or liked it, he didn’t know. Anytime he was around first-timers who inhaled improperly, someone else always stepped in to help while he watched from the sidelines. But now, there he was, fully prepared to give you whatever you needed.

“I’m good,” you assured him, your arms wrapping around his waist. “Can you just…hold me for a second?”

“I can hold you for all the seconds, honey.” You weren’t sure where the little nickname came from, but you were eating it up, wanting him to say it anytime he referred to you.

You pulled back to look at him and your eyes immediately shifted to his lips. You watched him wet them with his tongue, the wet sheen making them look even more inviting. It was like he was doing it on purpose, trying to torture you by dangling it in your face, knowing that you wouldn’t do anything about it.

Before you could stop yourself, you pressed your lips to his in a lingering peck before quickly pulling away. An embarrassed flush made its way upon your face and you covered your lips with the pads of your fingertips.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You turned to leave and Eddie didn’t let you get far. He grabbed hold of your wrist and turned you around to face him. He took no time to cradle your face in your hands and capture your top lip between his two. Your hands found his waist and you pulled him to you so he was flush with your body. The kiss was slow and sweet, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. It was everything you had ever hoped, everything you could have ever imagined.

“Don’t ever apologize for that,” he insisted against your lips. “You have absolutely no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” That made you stop in your tracks. You quickly pulled away to look at him, your eyes widening.

“How long?” You were desperate to know exactly how long he had felt that way about you so you could see how much your crushes had overlapped each other.

“Since high school. Almost kissed you that night when I drove you home from Hellfire and I’ve been kicking myself ever since because I didn’t.”

You had remembered that night so vividly. You had ridden your bike, but Eddie had insisted on giving you a ride home. The two of you had talked the entire time about everything and nothing, occasionally giggling at little jokes that you had shared with each other. Even after Eddie had pulled into your driveway, you still sat there, neither of you wanting you to leave. You had noticed him leaning towards you, but you didn’t want to make any assumptions, so you just said your goodbyes and you just felt embarrassed for thinking that he was going to kiss you when it had been clear that he hadn’t.

All that time, you could have sworn that he was going to kiss you and you had been right. You actually hadn’t been delusional for once. For once, the guy that you had feelings for actually reciprocated them and you couldn’t have been more elated.

“Well, now you can make up for lost time.” Your hands rested against his back.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Eddie pulled you back in for another kiss, this one more rough and messy, the two of you so desperate for the other, taking exactly what you wanted from each other.

Eddie’s hands moved to your cardigan and he undid the first button so slowly, giving you a chance to back out if you wanted to. Once he got the okay to continue, he undid the rest and pushed it off of your shoulders. You removed it from your arms and let it fall to the floor.

You let your hands trail up his back and you pulled onto the bottom of his shirt before pulling it over his head. Once it was removed, he threw it to the side, grabbing hold of your waist again. His hands slipped to the strip of skin between the top of your jeans and the bottom of your tank top that had ridden up as he backed you up to the counter, your back hitting it.

He helped you get up on top of it and you spread your legs, Eddie stepping between them. His mouth was quickly on yours again as he licked into it, his tongue roaming around it as if he was trying to taste every single bit of it.

You let out a moan as his tongue swirled around yours and your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him as close to you as possible. His hands traveled up your shirt and moved to your bra, his fingers resting on the clasp as if asking to take it off.

“Take it off,” you commanded. “Please.” The word came out like a whine and Eddie was happy to oblige, quickly unhooking the clasping before removing the straps from your arms and sliding the whole thing down and pulling it from your tank top. He tossed it behind him then looked at you, searching your face for any sign of hesitance.

“Are you sure you want to keep going?” He licked his lips, his chest rising and falling from being out of breath from your lips being attached. He would have never forgiven himself if he had done something you weren’t comfortable with. He just wanted to be one hundred percent sure.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Eds.” Your hand moved up to his cheek, stroking it with your thumb. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I want you to be my first.”

“Your first?” His eyes widened. He honestly had no idea that you were a virgin. “Y/n, are you sure you want it to be me?” Eddie wanted to be sure that it was actually what you wanted. That you were doing it with someone you cared about and he wasn’t sure he deserved to be your first.

“Very sure,” you nodded. “You’re the only one I trust to do it.” He felt his cheeks blush at your words, knowing that they meant that you had thought about having sex with him and his dick was getting harder by the second.

“Y/n, you have no idea how honored I am that you want it to be me, but I just want to be sure that you really want this.” Eddie thought it was the greatest honor of all that he was the one that you wanted to lose your virginity to and considered himself the luckiest man alive because of it.

“I’m sure,” you nodded. “I’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Oh, have you?” He teased and pressed another kiss to your lips. “Wanna move this to the bedroom?”

“I’d want nothing more.” Eddie’s lips slotted between yours once again and his hands moved out from under your shirt and wrapped around your waist, pulling you from the counter. Your ankles locked at his back and he carried you to his room, your lips still in the middle of a messy kiss.

He entered his room and slammed the door behind him with his foot, hurrying the two of you to his bed. He collapsed onto it and you fell on top of him. He then sat up and looked at you with a serious look in his eyes.

“I just want to let you know a few things before we get started,” he said, his hands resting on your thighs.

“Okay,” you nodded, ready to listen to whatever he needed to say.

“First, if I go too far or you don’t like something or even if you don’t want to continue, don’t be afraid to let me know. This is all about you, okay?” You just nodded in response and Eddie licked his lips before he continued.

“And on the opposite end, don’t be afraid to let me know what you do like. If you like something, feel free to make noise, and you don’t have to be embarrassed about being too loud. There’s no such thing.”

“Got it,” you nodded, looking him in the eyes so he knew that you completely understood what he was saying. You were desperate to get on with it already, but felt like you owed it to him to listen to what he was saying since it seemed pretty important.

“Do you want to start or should I?”

“You do it.” You wanted him to take the lead since he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Okay,” he replied, leaning towards you, his face only inches from yours. “Just gonna kiss you for now, okay?”

“Mhm,” you nodded and his lips attached to yours again. You felt a little more confident and you were the one to stick your tongue into his mouth, mimicking what he had done earlier, slowly laying him down onto the bed, removing your shirt as you did so. You then leaned down and pulled him into a kiss, your bare chest against his. Eddie brought his hands up and grabbed hold of your tits, the pads of his thumbs massaging your nipples, just enough to make them hard and you made a noise that he knew that he was going to grow very fond of.

Eddie pulled away from you, his mouth immediately moving to your tit. He moved his tongue back and forth, licking across your nipple and you moaned. The whole thing was so foreign to you but you liked the feeling.

Just as you were getting used to it, he took your nipple between his teeth and gave it a pull, causing your hands to move to his hair, giving it a yank. Eddie took that as an invitation to continue and moved to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. You gave it his hair another yank and let out one more moan, trying your best to not be self conscious about how loud you were.

“That’s it, honey,” he said, licking another stripe along your nipple. “Let it out.” Eddie pressed his lips to the spot between your breasts then flipped you over so that your back was against the mattress. He pressed open mouthed kisses all the way down to your stomach and stopped when he got to the top of your jeans.

“These look great on you,” he complimented. “But I’d think they’d look better on the floor. Can I remove them?”

“Yes, please.” He took no time to unbutton them and pulled down the zipper before pulling them down your legs and tossing them to the side. He pressed a kiss to the spot above your underwear then looked up at you for permission to remove them.

“Take them off, Eds. Please. I need you.” Your words came out so whiny and Eddie felt himself getting even more hard.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded before taking your underwear off. He was about to throw them on the floor, but you stopped him, putting your hands over his.

“You should keep them,” you told him. “To remember this night.”

“Isn't that objectification?” He liked the idea of keeping your underwear, but also kind of felt like he was treating you like an object by doing that.

“Not if I say it isn’t. Put them in your pocket.” Without a second thought, Eddie put the underwear into his back pocket before resting his hand on your knees, pulling you in for a bruising kiss. He then spread your legs open to get a peek at your pussy which was sopping wet.

“Wow,” he said, noticing that there was already a stain from where everything had leaked out onto his bedding. “This might be the wettest pussy I’ve ever seen. Mind if I get a taste?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all.” Eddie climbed off of the bed as he pulled you to the end of it. He then got onto his knees before throwing your legs over his shoulders. He looked up at you one more time for any signs of hesitance and when he saw how eager you looked, he slowly pushed his head between your thighs, burying his face into your cunt.

You let out a gasp as his nose brushed it and gripped the blanket as he licked a stripe from your slit to your clit. He swirled his tongue around the area and you couldn’t keep your sounds to yourself anymore.

“Oh, Eddie,” you moaned, your fingers gripping more of the blanket as he worked his magic with his tongue. He grazed the sensitive spot with his teeth and you whimpered which let him know that he could continue. He applied a little more pressure with his teeth, loving the sounds that the action elicited from you.

“So good, Eds. Need more.” You were desperate for whatever he was going to give you, not caring at all what it was, just as long it felt as good as him giving you head.

“Oh, this is just the appetizer, hon.” He dove into your cunt once more, shoving his tongue inside of it, causing you to moan the loudest you ever had.

“Fuck, Eddie, more.” He swirled his tongue around and around and you made the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard in his life, knowing that they’d still ring in his head after the night was over.

After a couple more moans, he removed his face from your pussy and practically threw himself on top of you, pressing his lips to yours in a filthy kiss, his tongue swirling around your mouth.

“See how good you taste, honey?” He asked. “Wanna taste you all the time.”

“And I’ll let you,” you responded. “Whenever you want.”

“I love the sound of that.” He slotted his lips between yours in a dizzying kiss before pulling away. He then reached for his bedside table and pulled the drawer open before taking out a condom, not even bothering to close the drawer back.

“I don’t think I’m ready,” you told him, your voice barely above a whisper. You knew he wouldn’t ever judge you, but still couldn’t help but feel like he was going to be mad at you. He let the condom fall to the floor then moved himself back on top of you, his hands taking yours, intertwining your fingers.

“Are you mad?” You looked up at him, and his face softened instantly. He would have never been mad at you for that. Maybe he was a little disappointed, but he thought he would have been wrong to blame your for something like that.

“Baby, no, of course I’m not mad at you.” He shook his head, giving your hands a squeeze. He couldn’t have been mad at you if he tried.

“Promise?” You needed constant reassurance or your brain would convince you that he was lying.

“I promise, honey,” he nodded. “How about we put on some pajamas and watch a movie? Anything you want.”

“I’d like that,” you nodded. You really had thought you were ready, but the whole thing still scared you. You really enjoyed everything leading up to it, but still found the penetration part to be too much for you at the moment.

Eddie rolled off of you and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants out of his dresser before tossing them to you. You threw them on while he headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed and still felt anxious about him being mad at you. What you had was so good and you were convinced that you had ruined it.

“I’m not mad at you,” he called from the bathroom. He knew you too well sometimes, always somehow knowing exactly what you were thinking. He knew how prone you were to overthinking and was always there to reassure you that your thoughts were in fact not true.

Eddie emerged from the bathroom and threw on a shirt before throwing himself onto the mattress and rolling back on top of you. He pressed another bruising kiss to your lips, his hands reaching for yours again. He then pulled away, a grin breaking out on his face as he looked down at you.

“I’m not mad at you,” he repeated, burying his face into your neck, snuggling into it.

“I know,” you replied, just like always, but he was never convinced, even though you really did know that he wasn’t mad at you.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said one more time, pressing a kiss to your neck before rolling off you.

He reached for the remote to his tv and turned it on before pulling you to his chest. You both watched the screen mindlessly while your arms wrapped around him. One of his arms draped across your waist while the other hand stroked your hair, something he always did to bring you comfort.

You looked up at him as he watched the tv and couldn’t help but feel lucky to have a best friend like him. Someone who was always there for you no matter what. Someone who would never judge you for anything, no matter what he really thought about it. Someone who you were completely and one hundred percent head over heels for. And maybe, just maybe, one of these days you’d get the guts to tell him how you really felt.

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

DOWN BAD- P.B PARKER

Pairing- Jock! Peter x Nerd! Reader (enemies to… lovers?)

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Peter Parker constantly nags you, and you hate his guts (naturally). So what better way to mellow the hate by being paired together for a class project? And why, if you hate his guts, do you want to touch him so bad?

Warnings: Making out, suggestive sexual content, dry humping, teasing, swearing etc…

Notes: It’s been a while, I apologize if my writing is a bit rusty! I hope you enjoy nonetheless, I had a fun time writing, and I really did miss it (Taylor Swifts new album really inspired me too!) I am using my phone to post for the first time, I hope to go back and format/ edit if need be when I can use my laptop again. Thank you for all the support :)

“Don’t look at me like that.” You huffed, eyes sharp as daggers as your cool gaze slid over to your target and struck its mark.

Peter Parker. Bullseye.

You could feel his lingering attention solely focused on you, a coy smirk upon his lips as he tapped his pencil against the wooden desk, its dull echo like nails on a chalkboard. A taunting metronome in the back of your mark as he leaned over to tower over you in his seat.

It was too close to yours for your liking.

“Like what pipsqueak?” he murmured, drowning out the professor's droning voice as he dragged on. You wished you could hit him with the textbook in your bag. Both of them, honestly.

“Like you’re thrilled for this. Don’t act like you like me.”

“Well I do like you.” He smiled, beaming ear to ear.

For him, it was the best day of his life. Getting randomly paired with “whoever you’re sitting next to, I don’t care.” (the professor's words, not yours), was a thrill for him, he got to pick on the quiet, shy girl more than usual.

Which would be a shock, considering the sheer amount he did already, always finding his way next to you to tease you, especially with and to his stupid jockey friends. This project was worth thirty percent of your grade. You couldn’t afford this.

“Well I don’t like you. So fuck off.” You heard a low whistle from behind you, a chuck alongside it from his friends. “Kitty has claws?” Peter whistled, eyebrow raising in mock surprise as you shifted your legs to the other side of the chair, angling away from him.

“Oh you’re in for it now Parker” Bucky laughed as you covered your ears in an attempt to drown them out. You felt like you were in middle school again, the way they mocked you. And what made it worse was that it got to you. Not that the jokes and remarks meant anything much, but it was just the sheer annoyance of it all.

You had thrived to be a straight A student your entire life, and in this class… you could feel them slipping. Taking a deep breath, you clenched your pen harder in your hand, pressing so hard the page snagged as you wrote.

You could still feel his eyes on you, flickering over from under his glasses ,his muscles flexing subtly under his blue t-shirt. You pretended not to look, and to not focus on the fact he was extremely attractive. You spent the rest of the hour doing just that, scolding yourself for any indecent thought you had ever had about him, ever. By the time the professor had snapped his laptop shut, the projector turning dark as students started to talk amongst themselves as they packed up, you had half a page of notes, max.

“I’ll be in touch.” he leaned down and whispered, hand lingering by your chair as he slipped by. “Fuck you.”

He just threw his head back and laughed, his friend group joining him as he looked back. And winked. You groaned. This was going to be three weeks of hell.

—————————————————————————

It was a Thursday when you got a text from him. An unknown number flashed on your screen as you lay face down on your bed, contemplating life and if this class was seriously worth it or not.

The buzz of the phone had your head snapping up, confused until it suddenly dawned on you.

Unknown: Think we should start brainstorming for this thing pipsqueak?

Well fuck, you thought, wanting to throw your phone across the room. This class wasn’t that important, right? (It was).

Taking a deep breath, you sat up as your thumbs started to fly across the screen.

You: Who is this?

Unknown: I’m hurt, pips. Truly.

You: I think you have the wrong number.

You smirked. Okay, who were you kidding… this was kind of fun. Kind of.

Peter: It’s Peter, you jerk. Are you really going to make me spell it out for you?

You: Peter who? Doesn’t ring a bell.

Good. Knock him down a few pegs. You giggled to yourself, quickly stopping once you realised why exactly you were kicking your feet like a school girl, for who exactly. You layed back down, head muddled with meaningless thoughts that jumbled as you waited for his response. Grabbing a stuffie, you hugged it close to your chest, feeling it rise and fall as you caught your breath, grounding yourself. Why on earth did this mean so much to you? Why did his texts, something so easily ignorable- suddenly a waiting game?

Peter: Ha ha, very funny pips.

You: How did you even get my number anyways?

Peter: Long story, I had to go on a bit of a hunt. A friend, of a friend of a friend, you get the point. I can be very persuasive ;)

Nope. You thought. Don’t give into this.

You: I’m sure.

Peter: You wanna come over on the weekend or meet at Braxston’s to start… brainstorming?

You: I don’t want to do anything of the sort, but if that gets this over with as soon as possible- then sure. Only one of us has a brain to storm anyways.

Peter: You’ll regret that pips.

You clicked off your phone, a ghost of a smirk on your face. His threat surprisingly didn’t seem like a real threat, but actual light hearted teasing, not the kind he often did.

Fuck. You were supposed to be hating him. You did hate him. It was only three weeks with him. You weren’t sure if you meant that with relief or disappointment.

————————————————————————————

It was disappointment.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you rubbed your creased temple. It was nearly midnight , and your books were still scattered across the desk you occupied, the library a ghost town considering it was a Friday night. Braxston library tended to be on the empiter side, which is why you preferred it. It was the oldest library on campus, smelling of old pages and cedarwood.

Sometimes, when you needed a break you would get up and run your fingers across the leather spines, or climb the ladder for a change of view of the stained glass windows. But tonight, you lacked the motivation to even bother standing. It had been a long night, filled with cramming and stress. Pen and highlighter stained your hands as you shook them out, cramped and aching. For the last hour you had solely focused on the final you and Peter had to pull out your ass, coming up with backup plans with the worry he would abandon you completely.

Topics, ideas, theories- god you didn’t even know anymore. Your body lacked caffeine, your iced coffee long gone. You grew tired of this mindless work, sliding off your headphones to admire the near empty room around you.

Suddenly, you wished it was completely empty.

Peter looked just as shocked to see you, eyes widening in surprise, backpack slung over his shoulder, hair ruffled and eyebags prominent as if he had fallen asleep and been startled awake.

“Pips? I thought we weren’t supposed to meet until tomorrow?” He made his way over to you, inviting himself to lean over you, on your desk. You stared up at him with a look of amusement.

“We don’t have to meet at all. It’s very bold you assume I’m here to see you, of all people.” you snorted. His eyebrow raised. “So who are you here to meet?”

“Two papers and exam prep. You?”

“More or less the same” he smirked, and you felt butterflies start to churn in your stomach. “Sounds like great fun. I’m sure they’re lovely.” you said, snarky comment slipping out before you could stop it, turning in your seat as you often did around him so he wouldn’t see the fluster and nerves in your demeanour whenever you were near him.

He leaned down, breath warm against the column of your neck. You couldn't breathe. You could not fucking breathe with him this close to you. The rich scent of his cologne made you dizzy, it intoxicated you as you stared at your laptop screen, as if it possessed the knowledge of the entire universe.

“You know, you can’t avoid me forever. You’re gonna have to confront me at some point, pip.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about” you snarled softly, staring at the coy, cockly little smirk you wanted to wipe off his face as he stood. “Sure you don’t.” He nodded his head towards your screen, with a wink.

“Good song.” he smiled, before he was off. You continued to stare at him as he walked out the door, not looking back once. Not a care in the world as he slipped on his own headphones, and around the corner.

Eyes moved down to stare at the pause button of your song, lyrics burning into your ears at the thought of him listening to it- and enjoying it.

Down bad, waking up in blood, staring at the sky, come back over and pick me up- fuck it if I can’t have us, I might just not get up, I might stay down bad.

You were so incredibly fucked.

———————————————————

You took a deep breath. Then another.

You let the crisp, cool night air wash over your burning skin, the faint smell of weed tickling your senses, probably from a house down the street. It was a pretty busy neighbourhood, full of students you recognized from afar on campus. You didn’t associate with the more ‘popular’ kids, if that could even be considered a thing past high school.

You tried to shake off the uneasiness that stuck with you, cracking your knuckles as you tried to prepare yourself to not only see Peter, but to interact with him- in his house. Most likely for hours. You knew you probably looked like a complete idiot out on the sidewalk, just near his house but you had to muster some form of courage.

All you could see was a faint light from what looked like the living room, and a light upstairs- you presumed his room. No sign of life other than that.

You thought of his words, how twisted they sounded. You can’t avoid me forever. You’re gonna have to confront me at some point, pip.

Fuck it.

You slipped from your hiding spot (from Peter, you were placed behind a large tree in his front yard, but god knows what people driving by thought), and mentally prepared yourself for his roommates to answer the door, making fun of you before he put the cherry on top. Practically leaping up the porch stairs, you raced to the door, knocking quickly.

You wanted this over and done with. Your palms were clammy and your stomach churned viciously as you heard footsteps near the door. It took everything in you to stay rooted to the ground and to not flee, and when Peter appeared, you feared the opposite.

How the hell you were supposed to move with him in that slutty little fit, a pair of grey sweatpants slung low on his waist, his v-line and happy trail on full display… his toned abs and arms in a little white muscle shirt… gods you didn’t know. You were sure your tongue fully hung out of your mouth like some cartoon character as you took him in.

“Took you long enough” he said with a snort, adjusting his glasses, sliding them further up his nose. You didn’t even know he had glasses. Did he wear contacts? Had he worn them and you just didn’t notice? No, surely that wasn’t the case, you noticed everything he did. It was like he sucked all of the air out of the atmosphere whenever he walked in a room. It was suffocating, in a way. Of course you had to look at him, and you were sure you weren't the only one.

“I was admiring the greenery.”

“I saw that. I wasn’t sure the maple needed to be examined that long.” he smirked, and your felt your fists instinctively clench.

He had saw you- so you were fucked and now the only logical thing to do was to run into a brick wall. Perfect, got it.

“I enjoy living in the moment, and I don’t take nature for granted.’ you huffed, attempting to compose yourself as he stepped aside, motioning for you to enter. “I’m sure. Don’t worry it was cute.” he smiled, running a hand through his tosseled hair.

You slid off your shoes, setting them next to his worn in converse you always saw him wear. You noticed the other pairs were missing, not even a missing lace to be found.

“Where are your roommates?” you asked as entered, surveying the open space. It was surprisingly tidy for a boys place, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of Peter rushing around attempting to clean up before you came (though you doubted he would ever do that). Still, it was nice to think about.

Little traces of “boy” still lingered, silly little signs scattered across the walls, flags and such, empty, crushed beer and poking out from the recycling bins. “I kicked them out, because I figured you would want to contentrate.” he said.

Yeah like I’m going to be able to conetrate with you looking that fucking fine. Ha.

“That’s considerate. I’m surprised you even know what that is, Parker. I’m impressed.”

He snorted, throwing a little look back your way as he lead you up the stairs, presumably to his room. “I’m surprised you know how to walk up stairs. You have Bambi legs.” he teased, mocking your clumsiness. You cursed him internally. Maybe out loud too, judging by his laugh.

You tried to stifle down the butterflies. You were not about to flirt with him. You were not about to let your developing feelings expand. You hated him. He was mean and he was an asshole.

You were simply here to get this project done. That’s it.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know.” was all he said, turning down a hall to an open door, light glowing faintly- beckoning to you. You appreciated his refusal to use the overhead light- not that you’d tell him that. He’d probably look at you like you were insane.

“I see you clean for girls you bring over.” you noted, observing his (surprisingly) decently clean room.

“Bold of you to assume I cleaned. Maybe I’m always this tidy.” he smirked, arms flexing over and behind his head as he sat down in his office chair, man-spreading as he stretched.

You tried so hard not to stare. And failed miserably.

“I would’ve thought you cleaned up for ladies you bring to bed.”

His eyebrows arched. “Should I have prepared then?”

Something like churning fire burned in your belly, slithering lower and lower.

“Don’t start with me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it pip.” he smiled coyly, knowing he had gotten you flustered. “May I?” you nodded to his bed, trying to ignore your feelings as you sat down. Fanning your skirt out, you tucked your legs in before opening your bag, attempting to cover your thighs with your bag as much as you could- his cool gaze staring lasers into your bare skin.

“So… if we have to base this on a creature in the wild…”

“Jumping straight to the point aren’t we?” he asked and you frowned in confusion.

“What did you want me to do foreplay or something beforehand?” you asked, your word choice more than intentional. You swore a little pink tinted his cheeks as he swiveled around.

“Right to it then. Okay, I was thinking spiders. Specifically their venom and social behaviours.”

You blinked. Jesus okay he had thought about this. This was not what you were expected.

“Elaborate Parker.”

He smiled. “ From what I’ve seen, not a lot is known about the venom entirely. From a predator-prey aspect.. I’ve mainly seen stuff on specific components evolving to target specific sites on cell membrains of prey tissue, we could work with that to start. Maybe expand on the social aspect and evolution.”

You were stunned. This was… more than you could’ve hoped for. Suddenly you felt bad for all the doubt aimed towards him over the few days leading up to this meeting.

“Hmm. I like it.”

“Did you have any ideas you had brewing in that genius brain of yours?” he asked, making you blush internally.

“I had some stuff just in case, but it was just random jots I’m not too proud of.”

He scoffed. “You came prepared with backup stuff?!”

You just shrugged. “Do you blame me?”

“Kinda.” he laughed. “Start thinking of me more highly pips. I even have access to a brown widow, we could do some experiments.”

You winced at the thought of actually studying a spider up close, but it was part of the job. Whatever could get this done the fastest, and you had to applaud him for providing some of your own evidence you could actually showcase.

He caught your wince, and you could feel the teasing start to start. It was like bait for him, he loved it. “The spider may bite, but I won’t. That is, unless you want me too.” he winked, and you fought the urge not to chuck your laptop at his handsome face.

“You’re gross Parker.”

“Oh I’m sure you think I am. Doesn’t make a difference to me.”

You were going to strangle him. “Let’s just focus and get this project done as soon as we can, yeah? Please.”

You riffled through your bag, grabbing different coloured pens and your notebook, skimming through your random thoughts and jots.

“Whatever you say pip.”

“Start researching Parker.” And that was that.

—————————————————————

A few hours had passed, and so far you were quite impressed with how much the two of you had gotten done. For the most part, the two of you had stayed on opposite sides of the room. If he wanted to make a move, he wasn’t physically doing it, and his roommates still hadn’t come home yet.

Though as the hours passed, he had made his way closer to you- ever so slightly. From his desk he nudged over closer and closer, his laptop landing in his lap as he worked.

“What source are you working from right now?” you asked, not bothering to cast your gaze up as you continued to type, fingers flying over the keyboard as you bit your lip in concentration. You failed to notice his eyes darting between your lips and your breasts that poked out slightly as you slouched over, licking his lips hungrily.

“Some research paper. Here.”

You let out a little oomph in surprise as he plopped down beside you, sprawled across his bed as he enveloped you in his makeshift fortress. He stared at you with such longing you felt faint, having to stop your work to pull yourself together.

Fuck.

He nodded towards it, and you realized you had been staring at him longer than you intended, forgetting about the paper completely. “Oh, yeah okay let me look.” you murmured, taking the laptop from his hand to slide it across your lap, the fan whirling softly, the warmth of it adding more coals to the fire you felt already.

He was still staring.

Please look away before I want to kiss you. Or do more then kiss you. I’m supposed to be hating you, stop please.

You tried your best to read and concentrate, but it was next to no use. All you could focus on was him, his fingers drumming on the comforter near your thigh (what man has a comforter anyways?!), and his gaze on you, that was heavy with something. Want, perhaps? Lust? Or you were delusional. Very possible.

“It’s um, it’s good. I like it, I think there’s lots of good… stuff here.”

“Good stuff huh?” he asked sarcastically, a smirk plastered across his face.

He knew. The fucker knew you were down bad.

“Yeah. You know what I mean.” you grumbled, staring back down at your screen.

“I do know what you mean. Do you know what I mean?” he asked, hand inching closer and closer to your thigh- teasing you. You took a deep breath, grounding yourself.

You could push your hatred aside for just a few minutes. It was okay, just this once. Right?

You bit your lip, and fuck if that didn’t turn him on even more. Nodding to him, as if he could speak to you telepathically.

Yes, this is okay. Please touch me. Just a little, even is fine.

“Maybe you should explain a little more, Parker.”

His fingers skimmed the edge of your skirt, warm to the touch as they stroked your skin softly, just a whisper of him lingering. Goosebumps lingered in their wake, and you pushed your laptop off to the side, not caring where it landed on the bed. Just not next to him.

“How much more?”

His voice was low. Deep. Needing. You wanted more.

Another stroke of his fingers on your thigh, closer to where you wanted him the most made you shiver, toes curling. His gaze never left yours, never faultered. Instead of its usual lightness, his teasing and bullying- his eyes were dark with lust. Nothing but his full attention was on you, and you couldn’t help but shudder as he leaned in closer.

Another hand landed on your thigh. “Yeah?” he asked, voice rough as you nodded quickly. “Mhmmm..- oh!” you let out a little gasp as he swiftly grabbed you, swinging you over to straddle his lap, tossing you as if you weighed nothing.

You hated that you found it hot.

He smirked, leaning forward- so close you could feel his thudding heart with a small hand gesture sliding across his chest, could feel his breath catching. Just a small little gap between his lips and yours.

“You’re going to regret this.” you murdered, fingers curling into his shirt, twisting the soft fabric.

“I won’t. Will you?”

“I might.”

His smile grew.

“ I still hate you, you know.”

“I know. And you look so damn hot when you do.” He pulled you closer, fingers digging into your skin, needing you closer and closer despite the two of you practically forming one being.

A clash of teeth and tongue happened, rough and harsh- full of hate and need. A hatred for your need for him. Why did you need him? Of all people?

Because he was so fucking fine.

A hand slipped under your skirt to cup your ass, squeezing it slightly. You ran a hand through his hair, tugging on it as your hips moved on their own account- causing a groan to slip from his lips.

You’d do anything to hear it again.

“This is so wrong.” was all you could moan as his lips worked their way down your neck, tracing your jaw before nipping at your earlobe.

“I don’t do right, pips. You know this.”

“Mhm. But you hate me.”

He laughed against your skin, and you rocked your hips again, a little slap to your asscheek making you jolt.

“Whatever makes you sleep better at night, pips. Whatever you want to think.” he sighed, massaging the skin as you toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

You needed his lips on yours. You didn’t want to even try to decipher what his words meant, your head was foggy with want. You were slipping into a puddle of bliss, finally letting the restraint you held on a tight leash go- freeing the want and pure desire.

Yes, you wanted him. Yes, you hated him. And yes, he teased you. It hurt- but this didn’t. This was a soothe to his constant jabs, a salve to the wounds he caused.

“You feel so good. I want you so bad.” you confessed, causing him to moan again.

Yes. Yes, please.

“You’re killing me.”

“Good. It’s payback for the way you treat me.” you smirked, kissing him again. Hard, fast, rough. Mean.

Until he just… stopped.

Pulled away slightly, making you raise an eyebrow with confusion. His cheeks tinted slightly pink, hair messy and eyes wide with excitement, eager to keep going. To go further. So why did he just- stop?

“Parker?”

He smiled coyly.

“Don’t we have work we need to be doing?” he asked sarcastically- and you felt your stomach drop. He was teasing you. He was doing this just to get under your skin, to leave you high and dry and needing. Knowing damn well nothing could possibly get done now but him.

“You- you just want to get back to work? After that?”

“I want to do the dirtiest things imaginable to you, pips. I want to do so many things. But if we keep going and get nothing done, you’ll regret it and hate me. If we get work done, you’ll hate me too. I rather you hate me but feel secure with this, at least.” he murmured, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

It was tender, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “So you just, want to work? Did I do something wrong?” you asked.

“Gods no. But it’s too easy if I just give it to you like that. You know me, pips- I tease. Maybe if you’re good and get more work done we can have some harmless, regretless fun.” he winked, sliding his hands down to your hips, picking you up again to toss you gently on his pillows, kissing your hand with a wink as he stood to go back to his desk.

Oh you were fucked. So, so fucked.

“I heard that.” he laughed, and you buried your head in your hands. This was going to be a long three weeks indeed.