#got these jeans for free and now don't get out of them at all

[petew21-blog]

Second hand cigar

Halloween has passed, but some parties still had a costume party theme. For example Travis here, a very queer, blonde hair guy unable to find a good last minute costume. His queer friends specified, that it must be something straight-looking, destroying all his plans to go as one of his gay icons.

His look - bleached hair, round colourful glasses and his noticeable gay mannerisms complicated this task.

Travis decided to get inspired in the city, heading to the second hand costume thrift store. He dismissed the idea of going as someone in a uniform, revealing his chest, he was so shy about. The thrift shop manager came to assist him. Before he did, Travis noticed his homophobic looks he gave him, but decided not to make a scene. He really needed the costume.

The manager handed him a biker shirt. "Try it out. I got some other stuff here for you, that would fit you." Travis went to the booth to try it out. He took off his clothes, avoiding the mirror. The shirt slipped right on him, fitting him perfectly. Travis looked back at himself. "I feel so weird, egh. Straight people really have a weird taste."

Suddenly a hand moved the curtain. "It comes with a beanie, jeans and a jacket, I will get it ready for you, before you leave."

Travis felt a weird impulse in his head to take the hat from the guy. He put it on him.

Manager:"You look much better now, sir."

Travis felt as if his confidence was boosted somehow. He felt really good. But it scared him. He wanted to take off his new clothes to return them, but the manager noticed. "No, don't. I want you to have it."

Travis:"I... thank you. I don't know if this is the right fit."

Manager:"I'm sure it is. In fact, I think you look so good in it, I want you to keep it. Free of charge."

Travis struggled a bit financialy, so the fact that he wouldn't have to pay made him feel a bit calmer. "Really? Thank you so much."

They went to the cashier. Travis felt more and more confident in his new clothes. He didn't even notice, that he left his glasses in the booth.

Manager:"Ok, here is a bag for you. Oh, I see you're getting comfortable in your new outfit." manager pointed at Travis's hand in his pants

Travis was shocked to find his hand there, he didn't even notice that he did so. Actually he normally never would have done this. "I am so sorry, sir. I am not really sure what's happening to me right now."

Manager:"You're feeling great in your new costume. That's what this is. Ok, this should be all and you're set to go. By the way, I left a bit of a gift in the jacket for you to use later."

Travis thanked the manager and left the shop. He was so taken back by the fact that he was acting differently. He wasn't sure why, but there was no time to worry about that. There was a party he had to get to.

He threw the jacket in the backseat and sat in his car. He took off his new hat, but another shocked awaited him. "What the fact?! What happened to my hair?!?" his blonde hair turned to its original brunette. But that was not the only thing that changed, his beard grew a bit, giving him a scruffy look.

Travis looked at himself. If he wanted to pass as a straight biker, this would definitely be a good look for him. He didn't want to admit that out loud, but he kind of liked the new look, that the clothes gave him.

He remember the gift, the manager mentioned. He looked through the pockets of the jacket and found a few cigars. "What should I even do with this? I don't smoke..."

He played with the cigar in his hand and looked at his reflection. He placed it in his mouth and looked again. "Oh this looks even better. I'm gonna have the best costume out of all of them." he found a lighter in the same pocket a spontaneously light it.

Travis sat there, enjoying himself. The smoke filling his lungs and the car, the ash falling on his lap. He felt amazing. He didn't look like a fag anymore. He was a man now. Wait. Did he really think that about himself? What about his crush? His crush was a man. But he looked so much better as a biker now than before.

He looked at himself in his camre. He loved his new look. He wanted to be more and more confident. He loved this new rush that the clothes gave him. Maybe if he wore the jacket, he would feel complete. A proper MAN.

Travis reached to the back, the cigar still in his mouth. The jacket smelled like an ollder musky man. Travis was hard now. He was about to wear some other man's clothes. He was gonna be in the clothes that another man was.

The jacket was on and Travis was finally happy. His look was complete. Screw the party. He should be in a bar showing himself off to other people.

But while those tiny transformation took place, something else was happening. Travis didn't notice, that his will was weaker, someone wanted to have a turn in the spotlight. To control this new straight biker body. Travis, drunk by the confidence just simply let go. The force didn't feel dangerous, no. Something that made him feel this good wanted to enjoy the goods too.

Travis closed his eyes, but someone else opened them instead. An ominous gold glow appeared in Travis's eyes for a second.

"Daddy's home." the stranger said in Travis's voice making his voice sound deeper than before. He gave the cigar a large puff and then exhaled.

The stranger immediately grabbed his bulge.

"The fuck... he could have picked a better one. Mine was bigger." he looked at his reflection now.

"Not bad. Gonna give you some improvements and maybe I could keep being you."

Travis's body dialed a phone number. The name of the costume shop appeared above it.

"Hey, guess who's back?!"

Manager:"Finally. I wasn't sure he wouldn't throw the clothes away."

Stranger:"What happened to the original plan, huh? You promised me a hot jock to turn into a biker. This one looks like a fairy."

Manager:"He is one. But that makes it even better, right? We'll get to cancel out some votes as well. Anyway, go to my appartement. The rest of your stuff is still there."

Stranger:"Thank you, brother!"

2 weeks later

Travis was long gone. Or at least that's what Travis's friends told each other. It was something they told themselves to ignore the fact, that their originally queer friend was now a MAGA supporter and a cigar smoking, biker.

Fuck, Travis even changed his looks completely. Whatever happened to him changed him completely. He was now walking shirtless in a vest, very openly showing off his hairy chest, he shaved his head and even gave himself a goatee.

Meanwhile, Dale was now living his second chance at life. His brother helped him get a new body and turn it into a better version of him. He was happy to smoke cigars again, taste alcohol and fuck pussy as he did in his life before. So yeah, fuck the old Travis. Life is amazing!

A story for @hypnosmoke420 with his own original photos. How cool is that? :D

[lorawant2sleep]

nyannyannyan just photos of me

[harrysfolklore]

charles leclerc answers the internet’s most searched questions

gif by @countingstars-17 <33

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

"Hi I'm Charles Leclerc and today I'm going to be answering the web's most searched questions about me."

Charles said to the camera, he was wearing his typical media day outfit, a Ferrari half zip up jacket and his baggy jeans, ones that no matter how hard his girlfriend tried to get rid off it was just impossible because he liked them too much.

"First question, what is Charles Leclerc's number?" he read on the iPad the Sky Sports team had given him to read the question, "I hope we are speaking about the driver number, because my girlfriend won't like that people are searching for my phone number on the internet and I'll be very worried if you can find it," the crew laughed at his comment, "But it's number 16."

"What is Charles Leclerc's favorite song?" he read the next question, "I think overall, it's Where is the Love by the Black Eyed Peas, but recently I've been loving Sabrina Carpenter's songs, and that's thanks to my girlfriend."

"Did Charles Leclerc retire?" he couldn't help but let out a laugh at the question, "Are people really asking this question? The answer is no, I'm not that old and I hope I don't look that old. I've still got many years in me I hope."

"Did Charles Leclerc win in Monaco?" a small smile played on his face, "The answer changed just a few weeks ago but yes I did. It was a really special moment, my mum cried, my brothers cried, my girlfriend cried. It was beautiful."

"Did Charles Leclerc adopt Oscar Piastri?," he couldn't help but laugh again, "That answer also changed a few weeks ago and yes I did. He's one of my sons now."

"Does Charles Leclerc speak Italian? Yes I do."

"Does Charles Leclerc have a sister? No I don't."

"Does Charles Leclerc have a girlfriend?" he could feel his cheeks blushing as he read, "Yes I do. And as you can tell, I talk a lot about her, so much that there are compilation videos of me just talking about her, I've seen them."

"Will Charles Leclerc win a championship?" he made a thinking face, "I'm curious to know what Google says about that one, but I'll say yes. At least if I work day and night for that, so I hope it will happen one day."

"Is Charles Leclerc good at cooking?" Charles chuckled. "Well, I like to think I'm decent. I can make a mean pasta and I really enjoy it, but my girlfriend is the real chef in our relationship. She loves baking, and her cookies are the best."

"Can Charles Leclerc play the piano? Well I'm not a pianist but I have enough skill to really enjoy it. So yeah, I can play the piano.

"Does Charles Leclerc have any pets?" he smiled warmly, "Yes, my girlfriend and I have a dog named Leo. He's a an absolute sweetheart. He even comes to some of the race weekends with us."

"What is Charles Leclerc's favorite date night activity?" he chuckled, raising an eyebrow, "Did my girlfriend search that?" the crew laughed, and Charles continued, "If she did, she knows I love our cozy movie nights at home, eating whatever we want and just chilling on the couch."

"Alright, last one," he said, looking back at the iPad, "What does Charles Leclerc do in his free time?" he read, "When I'm not racing or training, I enjoy spending time with my family, friends and my girlfriend of course. I love going to the beach, traveling or just relaxing at home."

He set the iPad down and looked directly into the camera. "Thank you for all the questions! I hope you learned something new about me. Until next time, ciao!"

did i reference my own fic here? anyway i hope you like thisss

[bunnys-kisses]

my woman

capt. john price

cw: ex husband!price, jealousy, possessive behaviour, breeding, dark-ish themes, baby trapping, dark!john, proceed with caution!!

bunny says: happy birthday to me <3

you couldn't take it anymore. the stress of his job, the lonely nights, the distance was all too much for you. it broke you honestly, you couldn't be that woman for him. the idea of him coming home in a box made you overwhelmed at times.

price understood, he didn't even try to push against the divorce. but that didn't mean that he left you alone. if anything he pushed himself further into your life. that charming smile and those blue eyes, his hearty laugh and his rumble of a voice.

"c'mon, love. who's been over?" he said while standing at your front door. he stood a good head over you, he was broad as well. his eyes were cold as he asked again, "who's been over, lovie?"

you swallowed, "my sister she came over to see how i was doin'. plus, we're not married anymore, i can have whoever i want over."

price looked at you, "i pay for this place, technically i can decide who comes in and who leaves." he brushed past you and walked into the flat. hands in his jeans as he looked around.

you knew you couldn't physically kick him out, it was like an ant pushing a boulder! you stayed far back from him with your arms crossed, "john, get out."

he peeked into the kitchen before he walked in and said, "don't think so, love. i have to make sure that my girl is behavin'." he opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk, "oat milk drinker, now?"

your throat tightened, "i had a friend over."

price looked at the carton, "must've been over a lot, or used a lot of milk." he shook the carton, "almost empty."

your stomach flipped. after your divorce you had met a lovely man who worked stable hours and had a winning smile. but price didn't need to know that.

"you bringin' men into my home, fuckin' them on sheets i bought. you whorin' yourself out now, love?" his voice was laced with venom as he put the carton down, "everything you are, i made. from your rank when you were servin' to the home you live in." he got closer to you.

you swallowed, "john, leave."

"no, no." he closed the gap between you two. he took you by the wrists and leaned in, "no woman of mine is gonna be a cheap fuckin' slag."

"i'm not your woman, your girl or your wife."

"then maybe i didn't fight hard enough to keep ya."

your stomach flipped once more. there was something about price that broke your resolve. even after all the pain and heartbreak, he was your husband. so when he kissed you, you didn't push him away.

he picked you up with relative ease, you wrapped your legs around his waist on instinct for fear that he'd drop you. he put you down with a bit of force onto the recliner he loved so.

your face felt heated as you were about to let your ex-husband fuck you.

"my girl on my chair." he chuckled. he remembered the nights where he'd have a beer and watch the football game while you were in between his legs like an obedient little puppy.

he watched you strip of your clothes, his larger hands helped you as you struggled to get out of your sweatpants. poor girl, always needs a mans help. price knew that your limp dicked new man couldn't help the way he could.

he loved the sight of your nude, all the curves and dips. the wetness of your cunt that gleamed in the light of the room. he got his cock out of his jeans and stroked it.

"remember this, love?" he smiled down at you, "i know you're pretty familiar with it." he chuckled, you spread your legs for him like a good wife. he reached over with his free hand and ruffled your hair.

"please, john." you moaned.

he chuckled, "impatient girl, bet ya touched yourself thinkin' of me and lied to your new man about it. bet ya told him that you were more than happy to suck his limp cock. nothin' like mine, eh?"

you looked at him, "there's nothing i could find or buy that felt like you."

he laughed, a full hearty laugh then met your gaze once more, "good." he said, "i'm glad i ruined that pussy of yours. because you're my wife and this is the only cock you'll need." then leaned over you and pushed his cock into you.

you choked out a gasp at the fullness you felt. you could feel it in your stomach. you gripped onto the armrests of the seat as you tried to regain the air in your lungs.

your pussy felt like heaven to him.

the sex was brutal, your sweaty back got stuck to the leather as he held your hips and battered your sweet cunt. he liked the idea that he ruined you for other men, that no one else could make you feel the way he did.

"do you see now." he said, "we're meant to be."

you looked away, "john, please." you felt the warmth pool in your gut. he took you by the jaw and pulled you into a kiss as he continued to move against you.

"you're my heart and soul, baby girl." his voice was low and erotic, "made just for me." he wanted to get it through to you that you were meant to be with him. arousal shot through him at the idea, the best way he could make sure that the two of you would be tied together.

it fueled him to push his cock as deep as it could go. his heavy balls hit against your ass as he fucked you without abandon. your sweet moans filled his head and he could feel his grey t-shirt grow hot with sweat.

he didn't worry, next round he'd get undressed fully. for now your sweet slick would ruin the denim of his jeans. he gazed at the expressions on your face as you closed your eyes.

"that's it."

"please, john. fuck, pull out." you whined.

"can't do that, love. you're keeping me in ya. you want this too. keep a little reminder on me in ya when you call that fuckin' prick of yours to break up."

"i'm not breaking up with him." you trembled in an attempt to gain some kind of control

he grabbed you by the hair and made you look at him. his chuckled lowly, "cute, love. but no, you're going to sit there with my cum in your cunt as you call that fuckin' prick to tell him to leave you alone. or better yet, you keep my cock nice and cozy inside ya when you call."

you swallowed and whimpered, "please, john."

he gave you a rough kiss on the cheek, his facial hair was scratchy against your soft, sweaty skin, "it's either that, or he won't be walkin' ever again. i'd suggest you take the more merciful option." he let go of your hair and quickened his pace.

you squeezed your eyes shut once more and it wasn't long before orgasm pulled you under. your slick cunt gripped his cock as the euphoria rushed through you.

price was pleased with himself as a pathetic noise left your lips. he gave a few more hearty thrusts before he finished. his noises were lower, darker and deeper than yours.

"good girl." he said, "lettin' your man do what needs to do to keep this together." he pushed strands of hair out of your face, his cock still hard in you, "see, you can listen. you can behave."

"john." you whined.

he patted your cheek lovingly, "shh, not now. let it happen." his voice was so calm and cool. the tonal whiplash made your head feel murky.

why did you leave him anyway?

he then grabbed you by the hair and brought you down onto the expensive carpet. he took off he shirt while you were on your shaky hands and knees. he knew your pulse was racing.

"don't worry baby girl." he said as he kissed your sweaty back, "just gotta go a few more times... until it takes."

-

while re-marriage wasn't common, being mrs. price was your rightful title. especially now that your little girl was born. price got you a nice house on a piece of land out in the country. you could raise your little family in peace.

"c'mon honey." you cooed at your toddler as she tried to stand on shaky legs, "go see daddy." there was such tenderness in your voice.

who would've thought a nice house and a cute little babe would've fixed ya right up!

price watched you try to teach your little girl how to walk on the grass. your hands held her smaller ones. price smiled at the rim of his teacup. for a moment he thought he lost you, but there's no worries now. you were his and next time he wouldn't let you leave. <3

[ddejavvu]

I’d love to see a jake seresin x secret wife au. The dagger squad doesn’t realize he’s married until Phoenix invites reader out to the bar with them! Thanks you’re the best!!

You're reminded just how little you know Natasha when she invites you out for drinks, and you end up at the bar adjacent to the naval base. You've been inside only once with Jake before, when you were still dating and he was going through training at top gun. Now he's a graduate, and the place brings back fond memories. You've chatted, of course, when she stops by for breakfast at the bakery you work for, but you've never discussed her career before.

"Hope you don't mind we're close to base," She grins, "My friends wanted to meet here, and I get free drinks 'cause the bartender likes me. They have this bell system to embarrass all the assholes here, and I think I ring it more than she does."

"I've been here before," You admit, tentatively grabbing her arm as she weaves through the crowd, "My husband and I came here once, a long time ago. I don't think the bartender was a woman, though."

"She just bought the place a few years ago," Natasha nods, sliding onto a stool at the bar, "Careful, don't put your phone on the bar."

You tuck the device safely away in your pocket as a brunette woman turns to you, a sweet smile on her face as she recognizes Natasha.

"Hey, Phe," She hums, and you don't have time to ask what the nickname means, "Brought a friend?"

"I'm Y/N," You introduce yourself, noting that they seem like close friends, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Penny."

You nod and beam at her when she offers you an identical bottle of beer to the one Natasha takes. You decline, though, ordering your usual instead. Jake's out with his friends tonight, but he's pledged to be a responsible drinker in case you need to be picked up from your girls' night.

"Can I get, uh," Natasha peers through the crowd, turning back when you assume she's found her target, "Five more?"

"Fanboy's got one already," Penny hums, taking four chilled bottles from beneath the counter, "You want help carrying them?"

"We're good!" You wrap one hand around two bottles, trusting Natasha to lead you towards her friends in the hectic crowd. You don't remember it being this busy when you'd come with Jake, maybe the new management really helped.

She treks you all the way over to a pool table along the wall, where a few men in jeans and t-shirts are huddled. You're taken by surprise, though you're not sure why. You'd automatically assumed her friends would be women, and you wonder if that's concerning. Possible internal bias aside, you smile at the men who stand to greet you.

"Hello," You wave, handing off beers to the two that meet you first,"I'm Y/N, you're Natasha's friends?"

"We are," A tall man grins, holding a hand out for you to shake now that it's not wrangling beers, "I'm Reuben. But you can call me Payback, if you want."

Natasha still has one of the beers in her hands, and you hear the man beside her, who she greets as Fanboy, mention something about the bathroom. Apparently you still have someone to meet.

You refocus on Reuben, "Payback," You tilt your head slightly to the side, "Is that a callsign? Are you a pilot?"

"We all are," The man who'd taken the other beer from you nods along with Payback, a burnt red mustache on his lip, "Natasha's is Phoenix. And I'm Rooster."

Your stomach drops.

"Wait, uh- Rooster? And- and Phoenix, and Payback," Your head spins slightly with recollections of Jake's crazy work stories, and you take a step back, "Are you- you're all stationed to this base?"

"Temporarily," Rooster frowns, "Hey, are you okay?"

"My husband-" You don't get the words out before he emerges from the bathroom, stopping dead in his tracks with a furrow in his brow that wrinkles his forehead.

"Darlin'?" He calls, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

"Jake?" You're equally incredulous, "I- these are the friends you're going out with?"

"Yeah, I-" He wanders closer, still at a general loss for words, "You know Phoenix?"

"Natasha gets breakfast at the bakery," You breathe, now that he's close enough to hear your dumbfounded murmur. You have an audience, but you don't care, not as Jake's confused expression melts into a sheepish smile.

"Well, small world. You look stunning tonight, honey."

"Thanks," You grin bashfully, keeping one hand on your drink and using the other to cup his cheek, tugging him down into a quick kiss. No matter how chaste it is, it gets a reaction.

"Oh," Fanboy gawps, "You're- her husband? You- Hangman, dude, you're married?"

"I am," Jake hums, ringing an arm around your waist and taking the beer from Natasha that she's too shock-stricken to hand to him. He pops the cap off on the edge of the pool table, bringing the fizzing mouth to his lips for a swig. He swallows, "Six years and counting."

"You're married to Hangman," Natasha- er, Phoenix repeats, "You married him?"

"Uh, I did," You laugh, twisting the ring on your finger.

"He never wears a ring," Rooster narrows his eyes at Jake accusatorily, "What, you're keeping her hidden away or something?"

"No," Jake scoffs, "It kept getting dirty when I was doing maintenance on my jet. I keep it on my dog tags, Bradshaw."

He brandishes the chain with both his ID and wedding band on it, and Rooster takes a swig of beer in response.

"How the hell was I supposed to know that, man? I don't stare at your chest in the locker room."

"Well you're missin' out," Jake drawls, turning to grin at you, "Ain't that right, honey?"

"Jake," You hiss, "Not here!'

"Oh, don't get all fussy. Most of these guys have seen my dick," He waves a dismissive hand in the air, nearly spilling his beer. You swear you hear someone mumble, 'unfortunately', but Jake drowns them out, "They don't care if we flirt. Hey, whaddya say we sharpen up those pool skills of yours?"

"Alright," You nod, letting him lead you over to the table, "Natasha, can you hold my drink?"

She takes it like it's her duty to protect you, even though your big strong husband has just bent you over the pool table. It takes you a few tries to be able to hit the ball at all with your clumsy grip on the cue, but when it finally cascades the colorful targets around the table, Jake whoops, landing a congratulatory smack to your ass that his friends groan at.

"Nice goin', darlin'. Gonna beat Bradshaw into the ground in no time."

[pricegouge]

Humor Me (Even When it's Ruining Me)

masterlist | taglist: @pricegouged

babysitter!reader x single dad!price

cw: fem reader. implied age gap. nothing specific beyond reader being legal. alcohol. reader is a brat and john's having a lot of fun with it. inappropriate work flirting lmao. also i beefed john up cause i could. MDNI

this is in response to a prompt but i don't wanna publish the ask until it's all done and up. also, i don't think this is recognizable against what she posted, but i do remember reading @ceilidho 's musings on this exact dynamic forever ago and it poisoned my brain so any similarities are in fact her fault cause she's gotta stop being so brilliant

Banner by @cafekitsune

>Running late but the door's unlocked. Feel free to let yourself in.

You read the text again as you park your car alongside the shiniest Lexus you've ever seen in your life. It rubs you wrong, the whole thing. The triple wide garage and the perfectly manicured lawn, the lack of a formal meeting and now this - 'Come on in and meet my daughter unsupervised for the first time, the door to my aggressively lavish home is unlocked just for you.' 

It had your hackles raised, creeping up the drive with caution. Honestly, if it hadn't been for the Laswells hooking you up with this gig, you probably would've backed right back out just as soon as you'd parked, but they'd never steered you wrong before and you doubted they would start tonight. 

Kate Laswell wouldn't tolerate some kind of pervert, and she definitely wouldn't recommend your services to him. 

The door is indeed unlocked, though you have some difficulty finding it at first. The flow of the walkway leads you right to the paneled door, but it certainly doesn't look very welcoming and at first glance you mistake the recessed entryway for just another confusing design element. But then the pathway runs out, bordering up to a lawn so lush it may as well have been planted with a carpet and you chew your lip, contemplating. For a moment you think to look for a back door, but then you take one step onto the lawn and your boot kicks out from under you, the soil beneath deceptively soaked by the automatic sprinkler no doubt. The fall isn't hard, just enough to plant you on your ass and splash some soil up onto your face. You frown at your dirty hands and then frown even harder when you see the trench your trainer has dug into the beautiful lawn. Standing, you try to wipe your palms on your hips and discover yet more mud so you give up, toeing a hunk of grass back into place in an attempt to cover the divot. 

When you turn back to the house, your brain finally makes sense of the broad bands of wood, the lock, and the handle. You pull open the heavy door with a frustrated sigh, finding a moody foyer - pale flooring contrasting nicely with the glossy black wall which stood across from you, subtle inlets suggesting it hid closet space if only you were clever enough to figure out how to open it. Fucking rich people.

You remove your muddy shoes out of necessity, but you leave them in a dirty pile next to the door and head off in the direction of little kid TV noises with your jean jacket still firmly in place. You've had enough hoity toity doors for one day.

Emily is four, and you think at first that her father must be brave to leave her unsupervised while he gets ready in the other room, but you suppose needs must, and she's well enough behaved to be trusted it seems, if the pristine state of the room is anything to go by. She sits placidly on the floor, playing idly with a pile of HotWheels as she zones out to some bubbly princess show on the screen. She jumps about a foot when you call to her to make yourself known, and then watches warily as you introduce yourself. For a moment you think you'd rather face a parent's scrutiny, her dark eyes so intense on your face you briefly wonder if she's got the shining or something, if maybe she's about to tell you how you die -

And then she points at you with a boxcar accusationally. "Why are you so dirty?"

"Oh," you laugh awkwardly. It's stupid to flounder under a child's gaze but you feel a bit out of your depth already so you do, smearing more mess across your pants when you pat your dirty hands over your thighs. "Took a little tumble outside."

"You look silly. You need to clean up."

"I -. You're right, I do. Where's the bathroom, please?"

But Emily is uninterested in helping you, it seems, instead much more entertained by the vaguely rhythmic chanting of 'dirty girl' she sets into, clamoring to her feet in order to run circles around you, pointing every now and again to make it clear who she's singing about.

You sigh to yourself, hoping against hope that she's not another spoiled rotten client. You're getting real sick of rich people and their spoiled kids, honestly. But you don't bother trying to correct her behavior. You are after all a stranger who just wandered into her home covered in mud. Any adjustments made now likely wouldn't be taken seriously by a child and that's okay, you wouldn't take anyone seriously under those conditions either. So you just grumble good naturedly and break free from her little circle, wandering in the direction of a dark, recessed hall off to your left. 

"The bathroom over here?"

"Dirty girl, messy girl!"

"Good talk," you mutter to yourself, socked feet slipping on the polished floor. You were definitely going to Risky Business the hell out of this place once the little shit had gone to bed. In the privacy the hallway offers, you give it a trial run, grinning like an idiot as you overshoot the first door and sidle back, rapping your knuckles on the frame out of habit. You roll your eyes at yourself for it, knowing full well the only other person home is upstairs getting ready, and push the door open just as someone from within grumbles 'In use!'

It's like you've never seen a man before, the way you stand there and gape. Looking at him now, you're not sure you ever have.

John Price is big. And hairy. And wet. And big, meaty fist so thoroughly swallowing the razor he's pulling up his exposed throat that at first you're unsure if he's just feeling himself up, inspecting the thick cords of his neck, maybe. Shaving cream drips down his bare chest in sticky rivulets, matting the thick pelt to his pecs. Water flows into the runnel between them, chestnut hair darkened by the runoff from his task. It drips down his forearms too, at least as far as it can, the hair there so thick it dams up somewhere around his wrists. He wears a towel slung low on his hips, his muscled belly hanging over the hem. It's tied off on the hip closest to you and hanging on for dear life, the breadth of him testing its capabilities. It gapes open high on his thigh, yet more hair and dense meat on display.

In the overwhelming humidity of the room, each breath feels too heavy to take, like your chest is simply too weak. You want to stammer an apology, but your mouth is suddenly much too dry and it comes out as little more than a series of clicking noises in your throat - 

Which are completely drowned out by the litany of 'dirty girl!'s behind you.

Mr. Price huffs a laugh, razor clattering against the sink as he taps it clean. The noise is muted in the dense air but it's enough to break you of your spell and this time when you apologize, your voice is winded and thin but at least audible. You step back, attempt to duck out, but then the man is turning to face you fully, motioning you closer with the hand that still holds the razor and you've never been one to disobey the people who pay you so you do, careful not to slip on the slick tile.

"Think you need it more than I do," John rumbles, deep voice lilting around the edges as if he's in on some joke that you're not. He nods to the sink he still mostly blocks when you shoot him a confused look, clock the open interest in his gaze.

Right, the mud. Some first impression. "Sorry," you chuckle, trying to make light of it. "I took a little spill in your yard just now. Mr. Price, yes?"

John at least nods and has the decency to look concerned but his niceties end there, still standing much too close as you step forward and run the faucet, getting to work on your hands. You keep your eyes locked on your task, afraid to make eye contact with his reflection in front of you. He's only one man but between the sheer size of him and the mirror, you feel like you've been caged in.

"But you're alright, I hope? Not hurt?"

"Nothing besides my ego." Your laugh is still breathless, nodding down the hall where Emily continues singing. In the reflection, you catch John staring down at you shamelessly and you duck your head again before continuing, "Your daughter has a way with words."

John chuckles, scratches his chest absently. You try not to zero in on the sound of it. "Gets her clever tongue from her mum, I'm afraid."

And maybe it's because you're stupid, or it's because humor's never failed to get you out of a bind before - maybe you just like making things difficult for yourself - whatever the cause, the effect's the same. You're an incorrigible flirt. "Well, don't sell yourself short."

The scratching against John's chest stops. When you look up, ears on fire, you find him staring back at you through the reflection, dark eyes so heavy they're nearly a physical weight. Your pulse thrums, whole body primed for a smart retort, but then Emily is in the door, laughing at her own antics. Her voice is bubbly when she asks if you can order pizza and it's hard to stay mad at her even when she calls you 'messy girl' again.

You start to say yes and then bite your tongue, unsure. You don't care how Mr. Price feels about delivery, honestly, but it's possible Emily has a dairy allergy you don't yet know about. This is why you usually prefer to meet parents ahead of time, but Kate had said the man was much too busy for such a thing, and the way he'd been scrambling for a reliable babysitter after his live-in nanny retired had made you sympathetic (see: very open to accepting clients who could afford live-ins), bending your rules for one of the Laswells' oldest friends. It hadn't seemed like a big deal at the time but now you were being guilted into cheesy comfort food, you find yourself ill-prepared

Thankfully, John takes over. "Not until you learn some manners first, munchkin," he proposes, wetting a hand towel and turning you to face him with a big hand on your shoulder. You frown up at him in confusion but he just ignores you, wiping at your temple with his towel as he continues talking to the toddler behind you. "That's Miss Messy Girl, alright? Only polite."

When he releases you, you glare up at him, no real heat. He smirks, taking the towel to his own face now, wiping excess product off his skin without breaking eye contact. "Now ask nice."

You flounder a moment, at a loss, and then have to resist the urge to kick yourself when Emily takes up the queue instead. Of course he meant his daughter.

"Miss Messy, can we please order pizza?" 

John laughs and suddenly you don't care how Mister Price feels about delivery. And if it turns out Emily can't have it, he can deal with her ensuing meltdown. He's already running late anyway. "Of course we can, sweetie. But please, my name is -." 

"MISS MESSY'S THE BEST!" Emily crows, jumping up and down on the spot. 

***

When he gets out of the bathroom, John teases you right up until the moment he heads out the door that pizza was your idea so you'll have to pay for it. He also throws a stack of flannel and henley at you, tells you to stop tracking mud all over his house or he'll add cleaning to your job description. You tell him you charge extra for that and he gives you a look like he's famished, like you're the first slice of meat he's seen in years.

It only gets worse when you emerge from the bathroom moments later with what can only be his pajamas hanging off you, but he never says anything inappropriate and he keeps his hands to himself. You try not to think about why that disappoints you. 

Resisting the urge to take a big whiff of his thermal is far more difficult. 

(Past the scent of fresh laundry, he smells like cedar and smoke and in the crease of the seams, something muskier lingers. 

You decide you're going to steal it right then.)

He shows you to the laundry room, shuffling a load of brightly colored girl's clothes from the dryer before giving you the rundown on how to use them. You're not sure what about you gives him the idea you don't know how to operate a washer, but you decide not to comment on it when it means him standing too close, the warmth of his body seeping into your back.

The spiel about Emily's schedule and needs is delivered as he shoves his feet into a brown pair of loafers. They match his belt perfectly, visible where he keeps his fitted button up tucked into pressed blue slacks. It's hard to pay attention to what he's saying but you're fairly certain you catch the gist of it. No strawberries or house parties, bed by ten at the latest and only if she's well behaved. He knows you have his number saved because he texted you about your availability this evening earlier in the week, but that doesn't stop him from standing over your shoulder to ensure he's still in there. You think you hear him snort when he sees he's saved as 'Mr. Price' with a money bag emoji but you steadfastly refuse to think too hard about it.

When everything finally meets his expectations, John scoops Emily up in a big bear hug and peppers her in kisses which leave her squealing in ticklish delight.

Emily hangs from him happily, little arms wrapped around his neck as if she'll never let go. You hear him whisper something conspiratorial directly into her ear which makes the girl giggle in delight before shooting you a wink which has your stomach fluttering with a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. Likely, he's just telling her to behave for you and being cheeky about it, but he's far too handsome to be running around winking at young ladies like that and you've half a mind to tell him.

Maybe you'll pencil that in after your sock sliding. He does say you're allowed to text for any reason, after all.

"And I mean it. Don't want to waste my evening there anyway," he grumbles, setting his daughter down. 

"So stay here with me, daddy!" she implores. "I'm much cuter anyway." Little shit even strikes a pose.

John chuckles, hand heavy when he pets her hair. "The company here is much better," he hedges, and for a split second you think you see his eyes flick to you. "But unfortunately a man's gotta endure some boring business dinners from time to time if he wants to get ahead in life."

A beat passes while Emily seems to think that over. John starts his car from his fob while he lets her digest that, the very picture of placating indulgence. Vaguely, you want him to look at you - or through you - like that and then immediately decide that's a desire best left uninspected. 

"You're out every night!" Emily gripes, no real heat. It's the kind of thing you know will bug her later in life but for now she's too busy reveling in all the late night pizza parties and gifts he no doubt showers her with to mask his own guilt.

You've been there before.

"That's true," John allows, brief flick of regret across his face. "Which means you gotta be good for Ms. Messy so she'll come back."

Emily gives you a look as if she's not very excited by that prospect and you're so offended you forget to correct John about your position being regular. 

John laughs when you scoff, a harsh bark that stops your snide remark in its tracks. "Behave, you two," he says by way of farewell. "And try to get along."

Shrugging, Emily bounds away in search of better entertainment. John's big hand is on his ridiculous doorknob as he waves absently and then you're remembering so quickly there's no time to dress up your request when you call after him for pizza money.

A beat passes, Mr. Price blinks at you. You sheepishly tack on a please and he hums, digging in his back pocket for his wallet. "Suppose I can't expect you not to ruin my reputation as a good tipper," he grumbles and you gape when he hands you a crisp hundred note.

"That's way too much," you blurt, not even reaching to take it from him.

John just shrugs, tucks it into the hip pocket of his own pajama pants while you're still stiff as a board, winks as he tells you it's just a tip.

It's only after the door snicks shut on silent hinges behind him that your brain catches up enough to catch his double entendre 

***

Emily is a sweet girl, if a little catty at times but she's endlessly amusing to tease so you're honestly surprised when bedtime sneaks up on you both. Despite your chosen profession, you don't usually get along with kids as well as you do with her. She even carts herself off to bed with little complaint, an absolute unheard of when it comes to first nights with a new family. 

It's how you end up on the couch with too much time to spare, bored in a house that's smarter than you and unsure when you'll be relieved. You flick through the endless list of streaming services briefly, settling on some mindless comedy because you don't want to watch any girly romances and mess up Mr. Price's algorithm. 

Well, the messing it up part sounds endlessly entertaining, but not worth the embarrassment of him knowing the kind of stuff you blubber to at home. 

It's a fine enough distraction until you settle into the couch, the collar of John's shirt riding up until you can comfortably cover your face with it. It still smells like him, enough to deter you from going downstairs and swapping it for your own clothes. It's not a problem until the masculine scent and the boring movie have you reaching for your phone, scrolling through steamy romances until you find something to fantasize about. And even that's not a problem until the author earns their rating, the depiction of the female lead's satisfaction so explicitly rendered it has you rubbing your thighs together, head on a swivel lest you be surprised by a sleepless little girl.

By the time your face feels aflame and your panties feel soaked, you're debating texting John to see if he'd mind you crashing in a guest room when you jump a foot at a noise behind you, turning to find that very same man not two feet behind you.

That fucking door.

"Could've texted," you accuse, and Mr. Price holds up two hands in mock surrender.

"So could've you," he drawls and then smirks at your confused look, drawing in a rather pointed breath through his nose. "Told you to text if you needed help with anything."

It's just subtle enough you're not sure you would have gotten it if not for the graphic descriptions of heady scent your nose had just been stuck in. You stammer something that might be an apology, though you're not entirely sure why. Suddenly you feel like the frog being boiled alive.

He's kind enough not to let you flounder for too long, moving on like he's the picture of innocence with a heavy hand on the back of the couch, muscles of his forearm bunching when he leans over the back of it, just this side of too close. "Everything go okay, then?"

"Yes, Mr. Price," you recite, the fight to keep your legs uncrossed and neutral a conscious thing. You do not need to prove him right by overacting the blushing virgin.

"And Emily behaved?"

"Well," you hedge, voice high and humorous. You're desperate to get to familiar ground and it's the quickest path, unfolding before you well-trod and welcoming. Parents love when you can joke about their kids and John's no exception, eyes crinkling in delight as he conjures up whatever image he has of his daughter in mind.

"She can be a handful," he agrees even though you never said that. "Not so bad you'll refuse me for Wednesday though, I hope?"

You balk. "Wednesday? Day after tomorrow?"

"Aye, sorry for the late notice - again. But you'd be getting out of here a little earlier, at least."

"Mr. Price, I have…" A paper due, a social life that's slowly dying, responsibilities. "I'm busy that night. The Laswells -."

"I've already fixed it with Kate. You can bring Colin here for the evening, Gina will pick him up when she gets off work."

"But… Wait, I can bring him?"

"Well they'll need you for the morning, right? I won't need you until Emily's due back from preschool." He shrugs, the motion carrying him down until he leans both forearms on the back of the couch. "It just makes the most sense."

"But that's clear across town?"

"Oh, I'll pay for your gas, of course."

"Hang on. Am I picking up Emily, too?"

"Oh, would you? Thanks, you're such a dear."

You blink, overwhelmed. This was only supposed to be a one time favor for Kate's friend, you can't juggle school and two part time babysitting gigs. But you don't know how to tell him that in a way Kate hasn't already. "I'm not sure how I feel about watching both kids at once."

The look he gives you is borderline lecherous, though you're unsure why. "I'm sure you can handle it," he rumbles, voice suddenly much deeper. He clears his throat. "And we'd both pay you full rate, of course. Only fair."

You scoff. "Well yeah, I don't offer a group rate." 

Your jaw clicks closed audibly when his gaze turns hungry again. "Our loss."

Swallowing past the nerves in your throat, you eye him over openly. Technically, John hasn't moved any closer but the way he looms over you now feels somehow much more imminent than it had only moments ago; threatens to pin you in place lest you move out from under him. "I have to go get my clothes... I'll think on it?"

John smiles, just slightly forced. "'Course, kiddo. Need me to walk you downstairs? Basement can be a bit scary after dark."

"Um. No. Thanks."

He breaks away when you do, unfolding to his full, impressive height. "I'll be in the kitchen," he offers and then he lets you get away with no further comment.

Outside of Mr. Price's vaguely concerning influence, it's easy to see you'd be stupid not to take the job. You don't like how pushy he seems, but if you've already given up your day to work anyway, it's a no-brainer to take on the second income while you're at it. Besides, the beauty of under the table jobs like this was you could back out any time you wanted so there really wasn't much harm in taking the man who tips delivery drivers one hundred percent on for a few jobs, see how well it panned out for you. Even if you're fairly certain he's flirting.

Like, extremely certain.

But he was still annoying about it and you didn't like being taken advantage of or being teased like that, so you don't feel bad when you leave his comfy henley on under your sweatshirt, march back upstairs with your spoils well hidden.

In the kitchen, John inspects the label of a golden scotch you can't pronounce, thick fingers drumming on the counter silently. His watch catches the pendant light, a thick stripe of silver nestled in his dark hair. He's got his shirt unbuttoned like a whore, just far enough you can see a spot of the matching pelt there, your brain helpfully supplying you with memories of how he'd looked earlier, shirtless and dripping with cream. 

Shaving cream. Dripping with shaving cream.

"Are you old enough to drink?" He asks bluntly, pointing at the matching tumblers before him when all you manage is a blink in response.

"No. No, thank you!" You clarify when the man looks like he's about to choke on his tongue. It's enough to settle your nerves a bit, get your footing back underneath yourself. About time he's the one left floundering. "Sorry, I am old enough, but I gotta drive in a minute here."

John's quick to recover, pouring himself a neat glass as he shrugs. "Could spend the night."

"Well," you hedge, still worrying you're reading too far into all this. If it's too hot in here, you blame the three layers of tops you have on. "Wouldn't want to wear out my welcome. You'll see me again on Wednesday, after all."

His smile is just as honeyed and warm as his drink. "There's a good girl," he rumbles and it's a physical fight not to let your knees buckle when he comes close, another hundred note tucked into your front pocket. 

"That's way too much again, John," you breathe and his grin turns patronizing.

"John, is it?" He makes as if to snatch away the money and you take a step back, out of his range. He just grins at you over the rim of his glass, lets you keep your distance.

"S-sorry, Mr. Price." After a moment's deliberation, you ask if he'd like the money back and he snorts.

"Cute." Placing his drink on the counter with a clatter, he steps close and guides you to the door with a hand on your back. Part of you thinks your dismissal is a bit sudden, but you can't be too upset by it when you just want to hide under a pile of blankets until your nerves settle, maybe replace your pillow case with his shirt. "No, kiddo, I don't want that back. Just teasing. Over tipper, remember?"

"Right. Um. Thank you."

"My pleasure," he says magnanimously, drawing to a stop next to your shoes and pushing them toward you with socked feet. He does nothing to hide his slight distaste at the sight of so much mud and you try not to let shame make you meek again, remembering instead how annoyed you'd been about his stupid door and his stupid lawn when you'd left them there. It's hard to maintain the feeling when he offers to walk you to your car, your weak little thank you just as pathetic as the one that came before.

John's the perfect gentleman, his hand returning to the small of your back as he ushers you down the drive. He tells you to text him when you get home safe and checks for fingers before closing the door. He even watches as you pull out, waving at you happily as you drive off. You spend the whole commute wondering what you've gotten yourself into and if you'll ever be able to look Kate in the eye again if you fuck her friend.

John calls you kiddo again when you text him that you've made it home safe, tells you to sleep well.

In the morning he asks if you've stolen his shirt.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 28 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As your school year fades into summer break, your wedding day approaches. Before your fourth graders move to fifth grade, you and Bradley invite the pen pals along for the big day.

Warnings: fluff, adult language, smut, Bradley being husband material, 18+

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

That summer...

"The best part about our wedding venue is that it's free," you whispered. "The worst part is that we had to clean it ourselves."

"Agreed," Bradley replied with a groan.

You were exhausted, both physically and mentally, and now you were sprawled out mostly on top of Bradley on the living room couch which was too small even for him alone. His big hand was heavy where it rested on your back, and his voice was a deep rumble in his chest.

"But on Saturday, we'll be married. So it's worth it."

His words warmed you as you snuggled a little closer. Both of you could use a shower after the day you had, but you didn't even make it that far yet. As soon as you walked inside, this is where you ended up. You were expecting his stomach to start growling at any moment, and you were prepared to make some sandwiches when necessary.

"It was nice of Nat, Marty and Ruby to help us get things ready," you told him with a yawn. 

In a shocking turn of events, Marty and Ruby got married over spring break in Las Vegas after going on just six dates. Actually, when you considered that they probably fell in love the day they met, it wasn't that shocking at all. People told you all the time they were surprised you were marrying Bradley a year after you blindly mailed a box to an unknown Naval aviator, but to you, it all felt exactly right.

"Marty was like a wizard with that scrub brush today. I don't think there's anything he can't do," Bradley said, mirroring your yawn with one of his own. "Are all of your kiddos coming on Saturday?"

"Mmm... most of them, yeah. And don't forget, you have to drive Edith up with you."

"I won't forget. She's a pretty integral part to our day, Gorgeous," he muttered, and sure enough his stomach began to rumble. "Damn, I was hoping I'd make it to the shower with you first." He gave your rear end a squeeze. "I haven't seen you naked since this morning."

You groaned and started to ease your body away from him and stood. "You'll see plenty of that when we're in Paris."

"I better," he replied, one eyebrow cocked as he examined you in your filthy old jeans and one of his ratty undershirts. "You look damn good, Mrs. Bradshaw. You'll need a new name tag for your classroom door when school starts in August."

Your fingers dragged through his wavy hair before tracing the scars on his cheek. "If I change my name." A little pout appeared on his lips, and you leaned down to kiss it away. "Come on and have a sandwich before we get cleaned up, Handsome."

-------------------------------

Bradley had much less responsibility on Saturday than you did. He had to put on his dress whites, fix his hair, and drive Edith up to Mira Mesa with him. You on the other hand left with Natasha first thing in the morning after demanding Bradley not even look at you. Apparently that was bad luck, but he'd already been watching you sleep peacefully when he woke around dawn before falling asleep again.

He wasn't exactly nervous about the wedding, but he was a little anxious. He wanted to get married and settle into things before your school year started. And before he left again for deployment. You always seemed to have more patience for his career than he did, but he wanted to be selfish and have some time at home while he was still a newlywed. And that didn't even account for the upcoming week in Paris.

While he was in the bathroom, running his fingers through his damp hair, Bradley examined his freshly shaven cheeks. Sometimes he forgot about his facial scars. You always looked at him like he was flawless, and now it rarely occurred to him to be overly self conscious about it. But they were there, and you had kissed all over them last night before bed while you teased him about what you wrote for your wedding vows.

He didn't bother to write his down. What would be the point in that? He could hardly ever shut up about how much he loved you, so he would just say what was on his mind when the time came. The ceremony was going to be quick anyway since Marty was officiating. Bradley could tell the reserved, older man only agreed to do it for the sake of friendship, and you told him he could keep it very short. 

As he pulled his white uniform on, Bradley smiled, knowing he'd have you back in bed this evening before leaving insanely early to go to the airport in the morning. When be was all set, he grabbed the wedding bands from the dresser, and headed over to get Edith.

She was wearing a purple dress and had her sheet music with her, and Bradley realized that other than Nat, she was the closest thing to a family member that he would have with him today. "Thanks for coming up to Mira Mesa, Edith," he said, opening the passenger door of his Bronco for her.

She looked delighted. "It's my pleasure. I'm just so pleased you asked me to be there. And you look so handsome, Bradley. And very happy."

He was happy. So fucking happy. And that was the bottom line. He was too busy being happy to think about his scars or worry about reading his wedding vows from a piece of paper. He fell in love with you through notes, emails and letters, but today he was going off script.

"I am happy, Edith. Happier than I ever expected to be."

------------------------------

"God, you look like a dream," Natasha gushed, fluffing out the bottom of your simple wedding dress before adjusting the straps along your shoulders. "Your makeup is beautiful, and your hair is perfect. Bradley is going to piss his pants when he sees you."

"Hopefully not while he's in his dress whites," you replied, making her crack up while she took a step back to inspect you one last time.

She planted her hands on her hips in her cute, green dress. "This is going to be the perfect wedding. A quick ceremony followed by spaghetti and meatballs catered from the best restaurant in San Diego. This is how everyone should get married."

"I told Marty the ceremony needs to be quick, because Bradley's stomach will growl the whole time otherwise. I don't like it when he has to go too long without eating," you murmured, looking down at the fabric that cascaded along your new shoes. When you looked up again, Natasha was leaning with one shoulder against the brick exterior of your elementary school and wiping tears from her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she whispered, shaking her head and sniffing. "It's just that you get him. You understand him." She took a deep breath and added, "Bradley seems big and boisterous, but he's actually really sensitive. And he needs someone to look after him and make sure he eats enough. That's the kind of shit he needs. Not someone who is always mad at him for having feelings. He needs you, because you love him back as much as he loves you."

"Natasha," you gasped, reaching for her as tears stung your eyes. She had known Bradley for so many years, and her words made your heart swell with even more happiness. "I do love him. So much," you whispered as she squeezed you tight.

Then you heard the sound of a piano playing in the distance and knew you needed to start walking toward the playground. "Take care of him. And let him take care of you," Natasha said. 

She wiped her tears on her sleeve as she gently guided you across the asphalt and handed you a bouquet of flowers. Your wedding vows were folded up into a paper airplane amongst the blooms that came from the florist Bradley used for your surprise bouquet when he was last deployed. Your heart beat a little faster as Natasha headed away from you and turned at the corner of the building, and then it was your turn to start walking.

The first thing you saw was the parking lot where Bradley's Bronco sat next to the Salvatore's catering van. Then the small, outdoor lunch pavilion came into view, which Ruby spent the morning decorating with fresh flowers, paper airplanes, and the fanciest disposable tableware you could find. Then you saw all of the kids from your class last year, and you smiled as they all waved and shouted your name.

But when you finally saw the playground equipment, Bradley was standing there in his dress whites surrounded by his friends and your friends and Maverick and Ruby. And his smile was so bright as you ran to him while Edith played the piano in the auditorium with all the windows open. It was a medley of love songs, but none of them compared to the love you felt when you were in Bradley's arms.

"Hey, Gorgeous," he whispered, scooping you up when you reached him, crushing the flowers between your body and his. "You look so pretty."

His dress whites were a bit scratchy against your skin, and this was the only time you'd seen him wearing them other than that one night last month that turned into some role playing after he tried them on. He always took your breath away. Since the first moment he wrote back to your letter, you just wanted more of him. You couldn't help but kiss him.

"Oh no!" Violet gasped. "You're supposed to do that at the end!"

Bradley laughed against your lips, and you turned your head to really take a good look at all the kids. They were all there with parents, some of whom had been at Career Day. And they were dressed up and looked adorable. You were going to miss them next year when they were in fifth grade.

"I promise we'll do it again at the end," Bradley laughed, his voice a deep rumble against your palm.

Then the piano music came to a stop, and Edith came shuffling outside as Marty introduced himself to everyone. 

"I'm sure the kids all remember you, Marty," you assured him. "You were the coolest adult at Career Day."

"Hey," Bradley complained as he tried to straighten out your flowers.

"I meant second coolest adult at Career Day," you amended, and now both Marty and Bradley were smiling.

"Well, regardless, you told me to keep this quick," Marty said. You could already smell the spaghetti and knew for sure Bradley was hungry. "So quick it shall be." He cleared his throat and said, "I'm pretty sure I knew Lieutenant Bradshaw was in love before he knew it himself. I've overlapped with him on several deployments over the past eight years, and he always seemed a little bit lonely." You laced your fingers with Bradley's and leaned against his shoulder as Marty continued. "Until last year when he asked for my permission to take some photos and videos of me working on an engine rebuild. I told him I didn't mind, and then he divulged that it was for a fourth grade class back in California. My immediate assumption was that he was dating a teacher, but he told me he was just writing to some new pen pals. By the end of that long deployment, he told me he'd fallen for their teacher and couldn't wait to meet her."

"That's the absolute truth," Bradley murmured, his lips pressed to your forehead.

"We helped though," called Jayden, and you started laughing. 

"That's also very true," Bradley confirmed. "Couldn't have pulled this off without all eighteen of you."

Marty shrugged. "That's pretty much all I have to say. It's so obvious that the two of you are made for each other. And I'm happy my friend isn't lonely anymore. Oh, and thanks for introducing me to Ruby." He blushed as he looked at his wife who then blew him a kiss. "Uh, so you can probably say some vows if you want to."

"Right," you agreed, handing your flowers to Bradley as you pulled the paper airplane from between two roses. 

"Nice touch," he told you as you unfolded it, and he was all smiles when you looked up into his brown eyes.

"I learned from the best." You smoothed the page out in your hands. Your handwriting looked a little blurry as you realized there were tears in your eyes. After you read the few words you'd written from your heart, Bradley would do the same. And then you'd be married. You were almost dizzy with anticipation as you grinned up at him in his white hat which was slightly crooked now. "Bradley. You give me these butterflies in my tummy. All the time. From the very start. At first, I thought it was just a novelty. An extremely attractive man was taking time out of his day to humor me and my students? Butterflies galore." Bradley ducked his head and blushed, and when you reached up to touch his name tag, he met your gaze again. "But then I noticed a pattern. I felt them anytime I shamelessly thought about you. Whenever I reread your letters. When I refreshed my inbox hoping for a little note. When a box arrived for my class. Butterflies."

"Gorgeous," he whispered, cheeks still pink. "Baby, I was falling in love with you."

You laughed when he kissed your forehead again. "I was falling in love with you, too. But imagine my surprise when your deployment was ending and you asked me out. And then you made my students and I a priority the very first day you were back. And you've made me a priority ever since. Bradley, the butterflies don't stop, and I don't want them to."

He nodded. "I want you to have them forever. I promise I'll try to make that happen."

"I know you will," you whispered. "And I promise to dispose of all the spiders for you." He barked out a laugh. "And I will always say your name just to watch you melt a little bit. And I promise to talk aviation to you and always make sure you eat and always say I love you."

"Well, shit," he grunted, then his eyes went wide as he glanced at the kids and back to your face. "I mean, shoot. All of that sounds like everything I want." He cleared his throat, and you took your flowers back from his big hand. "I didn't actually write my vows down, because they are simple. They are never going to change. Sure, we got to know each other by writing and typing out our thoughts and feelings. And yeah, I still love getting a notification on my phone and reading what you sent to me. But nothing compares to hearing your voice. Nothing compares to how good I feel when I can tell you how much I love you in person."

"Bradley," you whispered, eyes and nose burning with unshed tears.

"I know, Gorgeous. It overwhelms me, too. You already have my heart. You own it. Everything I have to offer is yours. I just ask for three things in return." You pressed your lips together to keep from sobbing. "First, I'm so serious about the spiders, okay? If you see one, don't even tell me about it, just make it go away, alright?" You nodded and laughed through your tears. "Second, I need you onboard with movie nights on the little couch forever. I like that you end up laying on me because there's not enough room. I like staying in for the night with you."

"It's my favorite," you whispered. "Let's do it forever. What's number three?"

Bradley smiled and leaned a little closer. "Number three. I just need you to talk to me. However you can. Let me hear your voice. Email me. Text me or call me. Write me a letter or fill up a journal. Anything. All of it. I just need you to talk to me no matter where I am. I'm pretty sure that will get me through anything."

You were nodding in agreement as you thrust your bouquet at Marty and threw your arms around Bradley's neck. When your lips met his, you felt the butterflies. "I can do that," you promised before he kissed you harder. 

You could hear your former fourth graders all cheering, and then Marty said, "I guess as far as I'm concerned, you're married." 

You were wrapped up in Bradley's warm grasp as he kissed you until Natasha had to say, "There are children present!" When he finally pulled away, you watched his eyes grow wide.

"We forgot the wedding bands." He dug around in his pocket and pulled them out, slipping yours into place right away. "I want mine on, too. Been looking forward to wearing it for weeks."

"I know you have," you told him, lingering on the feel of his rough hand against yours as you slide it on. "It looks good on you. Now, I think it's time for you to have some spaghetti."

---------------------------------

Bradley moaned as he bit into a chocolate pastry that melted in his mouth. It was buttery and delicious, and about to be topped off by the cup of coffee in front of him. "I was wrong," he grunted.

You looked at him across the cafe table, tucked under the awning and out of the rain that landed on the cobblestone street ten feet away. "Wrong about what?" you asked, brow creased in concern.

He held out the pastry for you to nibble on as he said, "Paris isn't just the city of love and the city of sex. It's also the city of food."

You laughed and covered your mouth as you chewed. "You've had plenty of all three since we got here, Bradley."

"I sure have," he agreed, thinking about all the frilly French lingerie inside the shopping bag at your feet. "And I would really like to have some more of each."

"And here I was concerned you'd miss Thai dinners on the beach and the food at Salvatore's."

"Oh! I should talk to them about putting chocolate pastries on their menu."

"You would bug to go there every day."

"Nah," he said, taking a sip of the best coffee he'd ever had. "Not every day. Nothing beats hanging out on our couch. Now, how many of these should we take back to the hotel?" he asked, holding up the last bit of the snack before popping it into his mouth. He moaned as it melted away on his tongue. "I'm just going to go inside and have them pack up whatever they have left."

"We can come back tomorrow!" you said with a laugh. "We're in Paris for three more days, Bradley."

"I love the way you think, Baby," he replied with a nod. "We'll take a bunch back now, and then we'll come back tomorrow."

When you and he headed out into the rain, he kept you tucked against his side along with the box of pastries and the bag of lingerie while he held the umbrella. 

"Looks like there's nothing much to do for the rest of the afternoon," you said casually. "Seems like a pretty good time for you to have more love and sex and food."

"Let's go, Mrs. Bradshaw. I think you have some things to try on for me."Thirty minutes later, all the lingerie you tried on was already removed again, but only after he'd taken some pictures. And now you and he were doing the same thing you'd done at least once per day since you checked into the hotel room which overlooked the Champs-Élysées and the Eiffel Tower beyond.

"Oh god," you moaned, on your hands and knees, naked on the bed. Bradley had his hands on your hips, holding you still so you could enjoy the view of the rainy city while he fucked you from behind. "It's so pretty here," you whined.

"Look at me, Baby," he coaxed, running his left hand complete with wedding band up along your back. He stroked your neck as you turned your head to show him your beautiful face and fucked out expression over your shoulder. "It's Gorgeous."

------------------------------

He's such a dream. And he's living his best life! Please stay tuned for a poll and then the epilogue which will complete this series! Thanks for reading! And thank you @beyondthesefourwalls

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[pearlzier]

────⠀ ⠀FRESH LOVIN' w/ CHRIS.

NOTES .ᐣ ana writing chris ????? its a literal miracle..... yeah hes been lookin a little too good lately... also ive been thinking of this for weeks now so uhh yeah !

WARNINGS .ᐣ p in v. uhhh dirty talk. afab!reader. no protection 🙀. im not great at writing chris i dont think... better at writin matt but i tried.

IT SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN AS AROUSING AS IT WAS to see you wearing his merch. chris gives you the pieces you like for free anyway, you're his girlfriend—half of the time you help with the designing process anyway. so he's used to seeing you in.. well, his brand. the sight of 'fresh love' written across your chest is nice, he likes it a lot, but he's used to seeing it when you're with him. you'd told him plenty of times that the hoodies and shirts are super comfortable, so you wore them often.

so that is exactly why he was so confused as to why the sight of you modelling his merch made his dick as hard as it did. it wasn't.. that different. was it? he doesn't get it. maybe it's the professionalism of the photos, or just how official it all is. that's his girlfriend wearing his brand. no one else's—just his. a funny feeling fizzes in his abdomen, a warm feeling flooding his chest. both of those things at the instance he sees your pretty body wearing something he created.

his baby wearing his baby—that kind of thing. its corny, sure, but still. it made his head all murky and fuzzy, and his jeans tighten around him so uncomfortably it was impossible to ignore it. being at the photoshoot was a fucking nightmare, let alone seeing the photos all over instagram. people loved the photos, of course they did, you looked really good in them, and yeah, he loved them a lot too. which was why it was agony going on any social to find the exact thing that gives him a raging hard-on.

it was merely a coincidence that you'd walked in wearing merely a fresh love shirt and not much else. he lets out a low groan at the sight of you, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip for a moment with his eyes raking up and down your figure. matt and nick weren't in, the entire reason you were wearing so little, so.. it wouldn't be completely wrong of him to have you bent over the couch due to your little get up, right? he's hoping so, since that's the only thing clouding his brain right now.

"actin' like you're not just as bad as me," he mutters, scoffing in return as you'd done previously. "actin' like your panties ain't soaked."

"you're starin'," he glances up at your words, his blue eyes wide and surprised for a moment before a smirk flits at his plush lips. yeah, of course he's staring. your nipples are hard beneath the cotton of the shirt, poking out a little and drawing his attention directly to them. soon, his eyes drop down to the curve of your ass beneath your underwear. slowly, he slides his hand down to adjust himself over his sweats with a quiet grunt.

"can you blame a guy?" chris murmurs, biting his tongue for a minute before he looks you up and down. "bein' such a fuckin' tease walkin' 'round like that," you scoff at his words, a soft smile playing on your own lips. a tilt of your head, and you're looking him up and down too. he looks good, he always does, but he does look really good. folding your arms beneath your chest, you lean against the kitchen island. "we both know you're soaked, baby." his words are practically a growl.

"you ain't got any proof," you grumble, feeling a surge of heat pool between your legs despite your own words. he wasn't wrong, you know, and he knows that too. all you wanted was to make something to eat, albeit wearing the least amount of clothing possible, but sure.

his smirk widens, "no? do you want me to check?" he knows you're wet, he can see it. from the way your thighs press together and how you're a little stiff whilst wandering around. all tell tale signs that you're just as horny as he is. "you're drippin', baby. don't even try to pretend with me," chris is quiet for a moment, before he pushes up off of the couch slowly. his eyes rake over your frame, and it only makes you feel more flustered in a way.

"don't gotta check 'cause i ain't wet," you mumble immediately, your skin warming up. you're lying through your teeth right now, and chris knows it. he knows you better than literally anyone, even if you don't want to admit it. trying to focus your mind on anything other than well, that, you turn away to open up the fridge and get something to eat. chris is making his way over, eventually standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest.

chris chuckles quietly, a low and rich sound. wandering a little closer to you, he stops right behind you with a click of his tongue. you shiver almost immediately when his hand slides over your side, skimming towards the swell of your chest. "liar," he murmurs, letting his nose trail along the skin of your neck lazily as he draws you a little closer to him. "you're always drenched for me, just as much of a mess as i am."

your eyes flutter over to him for a second before you swallow hard, "ain't a liar," you insist, head tilting to the side a little bit at the feel of his head by the crook of your neck. but back to the food, you tried to will yourself, as you bent over to grab a cutting board from a lower drawer. "yeah, can feel you pokin' my thigh with that ragin' hard-on of yours." chris scoffs at that, corners of his lips flitting up at the corners in a lazy smirk.

"s'not exactly a trade secret, is it?" chris mumbles with soft amusement, leaving gentle, warm kisses over the skin of your neck. his hands roaming gently over you doesn't stop him from pulling you back into him. he presses up against you as you're bent over, slowly rocking his hips up against you with a small, strained noise escaping him.

"you feel what you do to me, princess?" was pretty hard not to.

a soft gasp followed by a soft moan escapes you, "chris—" and you grasp at the drawer to keep yourself steady. a shaky breath slips past your lips and you feel it soon hitch in your throat. "don't," in the kitchen? matt and nick could walk in at any moment, you knew, but chris seemed like he didn't care at all, actually.

"don't what, baby?" he coos, taking a breath as he slowly alides his hands down to your hips. at the same time, his own hips grind enticingly into your ass, his aching erection pushing up against you. he needed you so bad. there, in the middle of the kitchen, he shamelessly grinds up against you. "don't what? don't touch you, don't make you feel good, don't love you?"

you let out this pretty moan, folding your arms beneath you to lean up against the counter. "no, no, no—mmh," you wanted him to keep going, you knew he'd make you feel good, he always did. made it his mission, actually. chris grind at your words, head tilting to the side a little bit now. "keep goin', please," well, you don't have to ask him twice, he'd do anything you asked of him.

"mhm.." chris hums quietly, considering whether he should take off the shirt so he can get his hands all over you before he decides not to. the shirt's the appeal, seeing you wearing something he made. fucking you in something he made. "keepin' this on," he adds, letting you know what was going on in his head.

as much as he'd usually keep you waiting, he was far too pent up to do so now. he lets go of your hips momentarily, his free hand moving to his sweats already hanging low on his hips to push them down a little bit to free his cock. a groan escapes him at being exposed, and he shuts his eyes for a minute when he wraps his hand around at the base and gives himself a languid stroke. he could get off right here at the sight of your ass clad in pretty panties pushed up against him like that, but the warmth of your cunt was a safety he couldn't deny.

"probably soaked all the way through these panties of yours, huh?" at the sound you let out, he smiles a little more, his hand slipping inside your panties almost immediately to test his theory. his fingers slowly start to brush against your clit, feeling how slick you are from just his words alone. "told you," you're sopping wet, and he loves it. his head tilts to the side a little, and he applies a little more pressure before gliding his fingers through your slick folds. biting his bottom lip at your sounds, he groans.

"chris, shit," you mewl softly, hips slowly bucking up towards his fingers as he pushed them up against you. he lets his thumb brush against your entrance, gliding over it easily before he glances back over at you. "that's it, let me feel you," for a few long moments, he makes tight circles over your bundle of nerves before his impatience gets the best of him. "feels so good—"

"i know, mmh, gotta feel you, baby," he tells you, tugging down your panties in a swift movement. you gasp quietly at the cold air hitting against your warm folds, and secondly at the feel of his cock pushing against your entrance. he's gentle, always is, his free hand moving to hold you steady at your hip. "you alright?"

you swallow hard, trying to figure out a way to say it without sounding desperate as all hell. "uh, yeah, yeah," you nod, shifting your hips back against him to feel him properly. a laugh escapes chris, and he hums, slowly easing himself inside you with a little buck of his hips. his hand moves to join his other one at your hips and he groans gutterly, eyes squeezing shut. "so fuckin' tight, baby."

"holy shit," you're clenching on him like a damn vice already, a moan escaping you as well in a similar fashion to chris'. he takes his time with it, lifting his hand from your hip to place it on the kitchen counter and grasp at it to keep him steady. he soon enough buries inside you to the hilt, hands roaming over your hips and ass, occasionally squeezing as he looks you up and down.

"such a dirty little thing, aren't you?" slowly, he shifts his hips back so just his throbbing tip is inside you, before he snaps his hips forward again so he's back to where he was moments prior. the sounds you let out practically have him coming right there, but he's got enough restraint to hold on for maybe a few minutes more. "lettin' me fuck you in the kitchen against the counter, knowin' anyone could walk in."

his words barely register to you with how he thrusts in and out of you, practically molding your insides to fit him, taking him so good like you do every damn time. "chris, mmh—! feels so.. ah, shit—!" your tits bounce beneath the fresh love shirt, drawing his eyes there almost immediately. he moves his free hand to cup your chest, thumbs circling over your hardened nipples and pinching momentarily.

"can't even think straight, can you? too busy thinkin' 'bout my cock, mmh.. i know it feels good, baby, feels right," chris keeps up the pace of his thrusts, practically pounding you up against the counter. "feels so, fuckin', good," he punctuates each of his words with a sharp buck of his hips, but making sure that you didn't hurt yourself in any way and holding you up.

"can't.. think straight," you agree breathily, practically panting with every push of his hips and feel of your pussy tightening around him. you shut your eyes, lashes fluttering as you practically squeal around him. "can't think straight, that's right. just focused on makin' a mess on my cock," and making a mess you were, feeling that burst of pleasure as he brought you over the edge.

soon, he got there too, the movements of his hips stuttering as he let out out a low sound, finally coming to a stop once he'd stuffed you full of his cum. "did so good for me," he murmurs. eyes darting up to yours when he managed to coax your eyes open with his hand. "did perfect.."

"yeah?" you ask, voice all airy and breathless. you feel so warm and fuzzy, a bliss washing over you. with a soft sound, you relax against the counter with his help and the feel of him easing out of you. his eyes dart down to his release leaking out of your hole, and he hums quietly, letting his hand trail back down and circle his thumb around the mess he'd made for a moment.

"and i thought you were hungry, baby."

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @dayzeandhaze, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @55sturn, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @beetlejenna, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasagrl, @imwetforyourmom, @deansbite, @beridollie, @pr3ttyf4wn, @sincerebabydoll, @pillwebb, @cayleeuhithinknot, @j2ss7, @sweetrelieef, @l3sbiancvnt, @fallbhind, @beausling ִ ꒱

[pretty-circa006]

Dumb Little Slut

Negan x F! Reader

summary It was a stupid mistake, really, but she didn't think Negan would get this mad at her.

tags rough sex, boot worship, gagging, spanking, choking, unprotected p in v, creampie, squirting, crying and dacryphilia, degradation and name calling, mild dub-con

wc 1.3k

note i totally forgot i had an ao3 account where i uploaded this fic, so when i remembered, of course the first thing i did was cross post it here! fair warning, this is something i would consider dark.

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

With Lucille in hand, Negan sat at the head of the table surrounded by Saviors as he awaited an explanation as to why they only came back with less than half the stuff they were supposed to.

Simon sighed. "One of the workers forgot to close the back of the truck and most of the stuff fell out." 

"Ya couldn't go back and get it?" Negan questioned. 

"We didn't notice until we got back." Negan sighed and ran a hand over his face. He was beyond pissed. Even though The Saviors would be okay without it, he still hated that half his shit was out scattered on the roads somewhere. 

"Who in the hell forgot to close the truck? I want a name and I want it now," he demanded with a slam of the baseball bat to the table. 

"[Name]," Simon said. Negan sighed. He should've known it'd be her. This wasn't the first time she's fucked up this stupidly and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last if he didn't teach her a lesson. 

"Bring her to my room. Dismissed." He stood up and stormed out before the others could. 

...

She nervously stood under Negan's harsh, hazel glare. He was sure she knew why she was here, because the first thing that came out of her were streams of apologies. 

"I-I'm sorry, S-sir! I thought I had closed it, honest!" she sobbed with big teary eyes. He grabbed a fist-full of her hair and forced her head back to make her stare up at him. She winced, which only motivated him to tighten his grip, earning a whimper from her trembling lips. 

"This isn't the first time you've fucked shit up," he growled, a dark look in his eyes. She started crying even harder, which made him smile. He roughly released her hair from his grip. With his gloved hand, he cupped her jaw, his thumb and fingers squeezing her cheeks so hard her lips puffed out. He leaned down to her level, his face barely an inch from hers.  

"Your ass is so damn lucky I don't have that pretty fuckin' face of yours burned," he said lowly. He could feel her quivering in his hold, but she maintained eye contact. 

"T-thank you for not b-burning my face off," she choked out. 

He smiled his charming dimpled smile at her, but his eyes were still dark. With anger or lust, she didn't know, but either way she was afraid. 

"Don't think for a second you're getting off scot free. You know damn well you have to make it up to me." She nodded her head as best she could in his grip. He roughly let go of her jaw and shed off his leather jacket before sitting down in his leather couch. 

"Strip," he ordered once she was standing before him. 

"Y-yes, sir." She unlaced her boots before toeing them off. With trembling hands, she unbuttoned her jeans before stepping out of them along with her panties and pulling her tank top over her head. Negan wolf whistled when he saw she wasn't wearing a bra. Normally, that would've had her all hot and bothered, but this wasn't like the other times she's been called to his bedroom.  

"On your knees." She lowered herself to all fours and crawled over to him. She awaited her next orders like an obedient puppy. 

"Get yourself off on my boot." His boot was relatively clean, considering, so she didn't hesitate to put her bare clit on the toe of his boot. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes with remorseful doe eyes. She began to  grind her hips on the leather, giving her clit the much needed friction.

"You are one filthy slut! Look at you gettin' off on my goddamn boot," he mocked. 

Without warning, Negan shoved his index, middle, and ring finger in her mouth, commanding her to suck, which she did eagerly. Her tongue swirled around the digits before he shoved them as far down her throat as he could, until the rest of his hand stopped him, causing her to gag around his hand.

"Thaaat's it, take it like a good little slut," he simultaneously praised and degraded. 

She continued humping his boot, coating it in her slick as she became more aroused and closer to her orgasm. The coil that built up in her lower belly was so close to bursting and Negan could tell by the garbled moans that came out around his hand. Every now and then, he'd press down on the back of her tongue, causing her to gag and more hot tears to pour down her face, making him grow even harder in his pants. She was about to come, Negan saw all her telltale signs, but this was a punishment and she didn't deserve to.

"Oh no, you don't get to cum, at least not yet!" 

He yanked his hand out, causing her to cough and picked her up from under her arms bent her over his lap. Her hard sensitive nipples against the rough fabric of his pants caused her to moan. He slapped her ass hard enough to leave a handprint before slapping it even harder a few more times. He could see her arousal pouring down her inner thighs. She was enjoying this far more than he'd like her to. 

"N-negan, please!" she begged, earning another slap to the ass. 

"You do not fuckin speak unless I tell you to," he said darkly. He pushed her off his lap and onto the floor before ordering her to crawl to the bed and get on it. He followed behind her as he undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, freeing his rock hard cock. It sprung up and slapped his abdomen. Negan was huge and she was honestly nervous to take him without prep. He never prepped her when he was angry at her. He stroked it a few times before lining it up with her leaking cunny. He slid his aching red tip up and down her slick slit before sliding himself all the way in and bottoming out from behind. She screamed out in a mix of pain and pleasure. 

"What a slutty pussy, baby," he moaned. He didn't wait for her to adjust to his size and started roughly fucking her with a bruising grip on her hips. As he pounded into her, he roughly kneaded the soft flesh of her ass. Wanton moans escaped her lips with every deep thrust. He tangled his hand in her hair before pulling her head back by it, earning a pained scream from her. His large hand wrapped around her throat, cutting off her oxygen as he got himself off. Her slick, velvety walls clamped down on his girth, a sign she was close. She clawed at Negan's hand, but he only gripped her throat harder. 

"Take it like the goddamned dirty girl you are, doll," Negan encouraged. The sounds and smell of sex filled the bedroom. He removed his hand from her throat when he felt her go limp in his hold. Slightly worried, he turned her onto her back while still balls deep in her pussy. His thrusts slowed as he lightly slapped her face a few times until she woke again.

"Don't go passin' out on me now, babydoll." 

He put her legs over his shoulders, bending her in half as he picked up his rough pace. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she moaned his name repeatedly. He pawed at her tits as they jiggled with each thrust. His dick twitched inside her before he came without warning. He threw his head back as he moaned her name while emptying his white hot seed into her slutty pussy. She shook with her orgasm as she squirted around his now semi-hard cock, wetting his dark comforter. 

"That's my dumb little slut," he praised as he pulled out. His girl was lazily sprawled out on his bed, barely able to keep her tired eyes open as his cum leaked out of her. He sent a playful slap to her already abused cunny. 

"You won't be so lucky next fuckin' time, so I suggest you get your goddamn shit together before you get burned." 

She sleepily mumbled in response, too tired and fucked out for anything. 

this was originally posted on my ao3 account on 4/28/2024. i haven't posted on there since because people don't comment and barely leave kudos 🥲

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

All Nighter | Bang Chan

•Synopsis: You can't help but to tease your boyfriend when he's working, regardless if he's alone or not. "What's life without a little risk?" Who cares if the other two members of 3RACHA get a glance, a peak of what you're craving to give your boyfriend?

Bang Chan x Female Reader

•Content Warning: Heavy smut, Oral(m receiving), Strong language. If I left something out let me know and I'll add it.

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

“Good job boy's. Why don't you two head back and get some sleep. I'm gonna work a little longer.” You hear Chan say to Han and Binnie.

The seat where Han sat next to you dozing in and out of sleep shifted when he stood up. Looking up you see him stretch his arms over his head and give a loud dramatic yawn that makes you giggle.

“Alright hyung. Don't work too hard. Night Y/N.”

“Yeah, what he said. See you tomorrow Y/N.” Changbin added before he and Han left Chan's studio.

It was just the two of you now and the tension between the two of you that was growing all night shifted and became palpable. He swivels in his chair, turning to face you. When your eyes meet he raises an eyebrow at you with a smirk playing on his beautiful full lips. Feigning Innocence you smile brightly at him. Yet the way he was sitting, legs opened wide, slightly slouched down in his chair with his elbows resting on the arm rests, made you feel borderline feral.

“Y/n baby, don't give me that look. You've been anything but innocent all night. Teasing me. Practically teasing Bin and Han as well.” He tells you. His voice is calm and much deeper than his usual tone. You know you've successfully turned him on when he sounds like that.

“Baby I don't know what you mean.” You drawl out sweetly, crossing your legs and flashing him in the process, just like you've been doing all night.

The pale blue skirt you had on wasn't particularly too short but it hitched up around your thighs just right while you sat on the sofa. Any time you repositioned how you were sitting, each 3RACHA member got a view of your wet cunt. Chan scoffs playfully and sits up.

“Baby girl, I could see the tint Jisung was sporting in his jeans all the way from here. Bet those two will be thinking of that pretty pussy of yours all night.”

You lick your lips smiling, eyes focused on your boyfriend's. You'd be lying to yourself if you said that very thought didn't turn you on. Many times you stayed at their dorm, you'd sometimes see the shadow of someone standing on the other of Chan's door through the bottom crack as he fucked you into his mattress. You'd only be able to tell who it was by the telltale blush over their face when you would later emerge for a drink and it was usually always Han.

“Guess I just made their night then huh baby?” You say seductively with a wink.

“Get over here and make my night. My hands have been itching to touch you.”

Smirking, you slide off the couch, getting onto your knees and crawling the short distance over to where he's sitting. Placing your hands on his knees and slowly sliding them up his thighs until your fingers find their target. You keep eye contact with him when your fingers curl under the band of his loose black basketball shorts before forcing them down and freeing his thick and hard erection.

“So big and so hard for me Channie.” Leaning forward, whispering and letting your breath fan over the tip.

The sensation makes him shiver and his cock twitches once, twice, and you give him a satisfied smile. Your mouth salivates with anticipation of having him on your tongue. Reaching your hand over and gripping the base of his thick shaft in loose fingers, you slowly apply pressure, tightening your fingers around him. He lets his head fall back with a groan. A strong hand threads its way into your hair pulling you forward slightly. Your fingers begin their slow dance of stroking him as your tongue flicks over his leaking tip before wrapping your soft lips around him.

He keeps a firm grip on your hair encouraging you to take him deeper into your mouth.

“More, beautiful.” His words are breathy and strained and you know he's holding back his impulse to fuck your throat.

Keeping your hand fisted around him you take him inch by inch until your lips meet your fingers. He's too big for you to deep throat but you take as much as you can feeling him hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck.” He growls and you feel your muscles clench around nothing. It makes you so incredibly wet.

You need him inside you but you also want to taste and tease him. Push him as close to the edge as possible. The sounds he makes when you start moving faster, bobbing your head up and down are raw and primal. Sliding your mouth over Chan's cock, slurping and sucking he bucks his hips up once into your mouth completely losing control over his body.

His grip in your hair is almost painful but you ignore it, heavily focused on his moans and breathing. Thighs tense up underneath your left hand that you're using to keep yourself steady and he stops you from moving using the hold he has on your head. You know he was close, you could taste the sweet and salty precum on the back of your tongue. He needs your pussy though, he'll go insane if he doesn't get to bury himself balls deep inside you.

“Get up here and ride me like Goku's flying nimbus.” He orders.

Giggling, you comply, easing up off your knees and straddling his thighs. “Mm I love it when you talk nerdy to me Channie.”

He gives you a deep chuckle that you feel down to your core making you bite down on your lip to suppress a moan despite him not even being inside of you just yet. Wrapping your hand around his hard shaft, Chan shivers at your touch, watching how pretty your fingers look curled around him. You guide him to your opening, the folds slick with your arousal, it takes little effort to push him inside of you inch by inch. He inhales deeply through gritted teeth and his hands grab onto your sides, gripping you for dear life. Once he's fully sheathed inside, your warm walls enclosing him you start to move your hips in a circle.

“I'll never get tired of the way you stretch me Chris.” You moan and he growls loving the way his English name sounds on your lips. It's his favorite, granted he loves the way you call him by any of the names you've become accustomed to but hearing you call him Chris just does things to him.

Slowly at first you tease yourself with his cock and then gradually pick up speed. Chan's soft panting mingles with yours, his hands slide up underneath your shirt massaging your breasts underneath the black lacy material. He moans appreciatively, flicking a thumb over the hardened peak of your nipple before giving it a squeeze, causing your walls to clamp down around him. His hips buck up underneath you and you gasp in pleasure feeling him push deeper inside your heat.

“Fuck,” he drags the word breathlessly. “Bounce on it for me beautiful.”

Placing your hands on his shoulders for support you do as he says bouncing up and down, feeling his cock slip in and out of you in such a sweet intoxicating way.

“Yeah, just like that. Keep it up baby. Don't stop until you're covering my dick with your cum princess.”

Your head falls back, hair tickling Chan's bare thighs, forcing a shiver to run through him and a groan to escape from his mouth. The sounds he makes between each word that he mutters incoherently is delicious. Each praise, each breathy sigh and each time his hands caresses you gets you closer and closer to sweet release. Chan can tell, he knows your body inside and out. He's got everything about you memorized. So when your legs begin to shake he stands up carrying you in his arms and sets you down on the desk. His strong hands push the keyboard and his laptop safety out of the way, still deep inside you before he starts to move. He fucks you rough just the way you like on his desk like he's done so many times in the past.

“Ah… ah, Chris! Fuck baby i'm so close don't stop.” Your legs wrap around him tighter, pulling him closer. He's balls deep, hitting that sweet spot over and over in a tantalizing rhythm.

“That's my girl, cum for me. Cum so I can fill you. Oh fuck baby, you feel so damn good.” He picks up his pace and you cling onto him, nails digging into his back and clawing him.

Even when he pulls his black T-shirt over his head he doesn't skip a beat in every thrust. The shirt lands on the leather couch behind him with a soft thud that's drowned out from the intense slapping sounds created by you and Chan’s body's coming together. The pounding he's inflicting on your walls is excruciatingly… delicious and your orgasm is crashing through you like a freight train.

Your moans ring out around the small pale green colored room. You're so grateful for the s class level soundproofing in the JYPE studios, surely your cries of passion would reach the 14the floor otherwise. Your muscles clamp down around Chan's pulsating cock, squeezing and milking him while his own moans harmonize with yours as he finds his own release.

“Ah, s-shit baby. Thank fuck. Ah!”

He spills himself inside of you with a long groan still thrusting his oversensitive muscle into you and shudders when your body trembles. You feel him fill you with his warm seed. It's this sensation that's hard to explain but you love it. Chan cumming inside of you is your favorite part, you secretly crave it. You don't even mind when his cum dribbles out of you whenever he pulls out. You love it when it's messy. He's breathless and chuckles, resting his forehead on your shoulder.

“I fucking love you baby.” He says finally, his voice husky and kisses your collarbone.

“I love you too baby.” You reply with a happy sigh and your hand finds its way into his soft curls massaging his head as you and him let your bodies relax after such an intense O.

✧￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣✧

It's after 5am when Chan and you walk into the parking garage and a mischievous smile spreads on your face.

“Think you can go harder for round two Channie?”

You ask him and giggle at his shocked wide eyed expression but he doesn't let you down. He goes harder in the second, third and fourth round until you're thoroughly fucked and unable to keep your eyes open, succumbing to sleep.

[bunnys-kisses]

hey bunny !! can i get butter tart + soufflé with mai tai + sparkling water with oscar piastri please ?? extra service dom osc if you can pls🥰

-🗞️

bakery menu

want to submit your own fic? then check out the menu! there's something for everyone and i hope you enjoy it! if you have any questions please feel free to message me, i'm always happy to help! as for this lovely order, thank you for ordering! i love this combination, it's so cute. just a side note, i always find it cute that people request oscar in some of the most gentle situations. like various other drivers can vary depending on the order, but i find oscar the most consistent with like softer fics. which is fine! no judgement, i guess it just speaks to how he is in a way, haha. but thank you!

butter tart ("let's ruin ourselves for anyone else.") + soufflé: ("i'll be gentle.") + mai tai (loss of virginity) + sparkling water (gentle sex)

cw: smut/pwp, first time, virgin!reader, gentle sex, service dom!oscar, oscar takes your pleasure seriously, missionary. protected sex (smart oscar)

"i have an idea." oscar said one night, him curled into your side on the couch. his lips pressed against your temple, "i know you've been wanting to lose your virginity already. so tonight, let's ruin ourselves for anyone else."

you froze, your eyes wide as you looked at your boyfriend. it wasn't that you didn't want to lose your virginity. it was just hearing your boyfriend ask in such a forward way made your core throb.

oscar noticed your expression and said quickly, "unless you don't want to! that's fine too! i just thought i'd ask!"

you took his hand and linked his fingers between yours and said, "oscar... let's do it." then smiled at him, "let's ruin ourselves for everyone else." and you watched oscar light up

oscar led you to the bedroom. you had slept in the same bed multiple times, he had even fingered you on two occasions, but it had never been like this. it wasn't that your virginity was some guarded secret or you were saving yourself for marriage.

you just wanted to sleep with someone you were in a relationship. you thought getting out high school would make that easier since you were in a bigger city now and had more confidence. but the sea of men who wanted a quick fuck was a huge turn off. so, you just never lost your virginity. and oscar was the total opposite of them, he wanted to make sure you felt no pressure to have sex with him.

"you don't owe me anything, i want you for all of you. not just your body." he said as he held you hand while you were out getting coffee. it was so endearing that it made you want to have sex with him. it wasn't about hooking up, oscar piastri loved you.

you started to get your clothes off while oscar found an unopened box of condoms from his desk drawer. you jokingly asked, "should i be worried?"

oscar looked over and went a bit pink in the face, "oh no! they're new. um, i thought that they were better to have then not having them. we have to be safe." he shook the package and smiled. it made you giggle.

"don't worry." you said as you got your socks off, "i was just wondering if you were hoping to get lucky tonight."

he replied, with such honesty, "well i am lucky every time i get to see you." then gave you a smile. you were a bit gobsmacked by his comment as he went back to the bed. he then started to undress as well.

you wanted to cover your face as you said, "thank you, oscar. thank you so much." and he leaned in to kiss you on the cheeks.

"no thanks needed." he said as he took a hold of your shoulders for a moment then kissed you on the lips once more. he eventually got his jeans off, and soon after you were both naked in bed. the light in the room was bright with the night sky coming in through the large windows of the room.

you felt like the center of oscar's world as he looked at you. he smiled at you before he gave you a sweet kiss.

"one last time, do you wan-"

you took him by the face, his boyish good looks made your stomach twist in knots. you were nervous, but excited. to be so close to him. you said with certainly. "yes. i want it."

he replied, "alright. i'll be gentle, i promise." then pulled away to grab one of the condoms and get between your legs. he could feel the excitement in his chest too. he would've loved to make love to you months earlier, but he wanted to make sure that you were okay with it.

sex is only fun with all partners are willing. and he wanted you more than willing. he got the condom on, he could feel the heat staining his cheeks. he said softly, "i love you."

you held one of the pillows on his bed up against your chest as you held onto it tightly. oscar angled your hips and said, "i love you too." before you felt his cock get into you.

oscar took his time, no rushing it. he shuddered, like ship breaking ice. oscar was the first person you'd ever have sex with. and it made his heart leap. while virginity was stupid, it touched a nerve in a part of his brain. it was a little erotic that he was your first. but as he kissed you, he knew that he loved you. he wasn't a virgin killer, he was your boyfriend.

"everything okay?" he asked as his gaze met yours. his breathing was already growing, it all felt so good. it made everything in his brain light up in the best was possible. he had some sexual experience, but to be this close to you was a feeling he had been searching for. happiness, lust, love, overwhelming joy, the thump in his chest as he softly moved against you.

you nodded and looked up at him. you smiled, you felt painfully in love. he respected you, was kind to you. he looked at you with such joy. you thought about his additions to small collection of cat themed knick-knacks the he picked up for you his travels. the late night phone calls and the homecomings. how he perked up when he saw you, the time he jokingly called you "his soul" in an interview and when you saw the clip of him saying that you almost spat out your coffee. oscar adored you, and that made you willing to sleep with him. because he respected you just as you did. a mutual admiration and love of one another.

"you're stunning, gorgeous. wow." he felt more heat in his face, "i don't think i have enough words to describe you. they should come up with new words."

you giggled and placed your hands over your face for a moment. you smiled widely under your hands as you said, "oh my god."

oscar had his hands on either side of you. his check close to the pillow on your chest. he said as he moved against you, "don't hide yourself. i want to see your face. c'mon."

you took your hands away and held onto the pillow once more, letting him move against you. his cock hitting all the right places. you said, "you always know how to make me feel loved."

he kissed your forehead, "of course. that's the goal." then started to move a little faster. the pleasure moved through both of you. you clenched your legs around your boyfriend's waist as you tried to meet his thrusts.

this felt good. there was no other way to put it. oscar loved it as did you. your pretty nails dug into the pillow as your boyfriend humped against you. it wasn't a heavy pace, just enough to make you both turned on.

"i love you."

"i love you too." you responded as oscar leaned in and kissed you on the lips. your heart fluttered as you moved with him. it felt incredible and oscar was inclined to agree. a perfect fit for one another.

"i love you." he said

"i love you too." you said again.

you soon clenched tightly onto the pillow you were holding onto. you moaned into the fabric of it as he continued to move against you. this was unlike anything you ever really felt. even toys didn't make you feel this good. it was like a current running through you. you felt fuzzy in the head but wide awake as all of it came to a climax. you let out a sweet noise that made your lover hot all over.

he watched you as he continued to move. to see you reach climax only made him want to move faster. to reach his own so close behind yours. he was proud he made you cum, that was a sign of honour in his eyes. that he knew how to make you feel good. and that he'd learn how to make you feel even better as time went on. a lady deserves to finish first. and oscar was happy to do his best to bring you to climax. he pulled out despite wearing a condom. he stroked his slick cock in the condom into his finished. his back hunched for a moment and fire licked his stomach.

you looked at one another and soon oscar's lips were on your once more. his softening cock got hard once more as you two moved in the bed, lips and hands on one another. something clicked between the two of you, you liked being intimate together. you liked having sex, it was fun. and when you pulled away from the kiss and panted out, "again. please."

oscar knew that he was in no position to deny you. <3

[ddejavvu]

Ok so smut idea for Tyler! Tyler’s shy and sweet gf who gets all horny and needy while he’s gone so she sends him some nudes or like a dirty vid and Tyler is totally thrown because that’s not his sweet innocent girl?? Is it??

Caught off Guard - Tyler Owens x Reader

please send me tyler owens requests!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Tyler's never had a problem with opening a message from you in front of his crew. You love him more than life itself, Tyler knows that, but you're almost painfully shy, and the most racy thing you've ever said to him over text was that he looked 'handsome'. In private, in the secluded space of your shared bed, filthier things come from between your sweet pink lips, but over text you're always civilized.

It's why he's so taken aback that he nearly doesn't turn the sound down on his phone when he presses play on the video you'd sent him. It's nothing but a black screen originally but your sweaty, flushed face pops into frame when you lift the phone.

All anyone at the makeshift table is able to hear before he turns the volume down is Tyler's own name, and he's wildly, viscerally grateful that it hadn't been something more suggestive.

"Woah!" Tyler coughs over a mouthful of cheap beer, chest heaving as you showcase your two fingers pressed together with a slick substance coating them, dripping from them, "I gotta- y'all eat without me, I'm- I have to go."

"Is Y/N okay?" Lilly peers up worriedly at him, the typically brash storm chaser reduced to a pouting mother hen at Tyler's urgency, "She sounds like she's crying."

"She's fine." Tyler's already jogging towards their motel room, struggling with the keys in his pocket to jam the card inside of the door, "Don't bother me, and- and don't let anyone touch my beer!"

He's fairly certain that before the door even shuts behind him, Dani is already chugging it, but he can't bring himself to care.

He reloads the video, turning the volume up so that he can hear your voice again, "Tyler, I- I need you so bad right now. I've been feeling- aagh! I've been feeling like this all day, and I just- I keep trying, but I can't do it like you can!" You sob, your face screwing up as you desperately try getting yourself off, "Look, look! This is- I'm so wet, Tyler I'm so wet thinking about you, and I just can't- I can't finish, I need you I need- hnngh! Tyler," You cry, tears spilling out over your lower lashes and down your humid cheeks, "I need you!"

Tyler's hands tremble as he jams his thumb onto the 'call' button. His jeans are uncomfortably tight now, and one of his hands is already palming against the denim before he realizes that he's even hard. He acts on instinct, tucking the phone beside his ear and panting when the rough fabric of his jeans rubs flush against the angled head of his cock.

You pick up on the first ring, "Ty!"

"Baby," He breathes, groaning as he unzips his jeans and frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, "Shit, honey, you can't- you can't fuckin' do that to me."

"I need you," You're still crying, perhaps moreso now that Tyler's voice is in your ear but your cunt is devoid of his erection.

"'Thought I was gonna bust at the fuckin' table," He scoffs, stroking over his leaking cockhead, "Shit, baby, sendin' me pretty little videos like that? You're feelin' brave today, huh?"

"It hurts, Ty," You sob, "I- I need you."

"Shit, say it again." He pleads, already fucking his fist with vigor, uncontrollably turned on by your sudden, bold change in demeanor.

"I need you!" You cry, and Tyler's throat grows sore with the volume of the groan he releases as you hopelessly grind on your too-small fingers, "Please, Ty, i need you so bad!"

"Shit," Tyler curses, wondering if he's ever cum faster in his life, slightly embarrassed yet still raring to go as he hears your needy gasps, "Oh, fuck, baby, you're- you're all mine. I've got you, we're on our way back home. I'm gonna- agh, I'm gonna fuck you into the mattress, baby, just you wait."

[ynnova]

( KISS KISS. ) wooyoung x ninth member!f!reader ✶ poly!ateez

──── you and wooyoung spend time together on the way to paris.

september 2024 ୨୧ word count : 989 ୨୧ warnings : making out ୨୧ mdni

"you look so pretty," wooyoung's voice is hot against your ear as he whispers the words to you. you can't help but smile, a shy laugh leaving your lips as wooyoung links his fingers with yours.

the two of you are hidden away from the prying eyes of the public and wooyoung takes full advantage of it. wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest as he presses a kiss to your neck. "you dress up just for me?"

"these are just my normal clothes, woo," you tell him, swatting his wandering hands away from straying too far south.

"could have fooled me, baby. when did you get these jeans?" he asked, tracing a finger along the pattern of your pants.

"i got them back in japan, cute aren't they?" you tell him and he lets out a 'hm' sound as his finger continues to run down your leg before coming back up again.

the two of you fall into a comfortable silence for the next few minutes. wooyoung uses his free hand to pull out his phone and you watch him pull his camera up before he's holding it out in front of the two of you. you immediately smile with him as he takes a few selfies of the two of you. for his last picture, wooyoung presses his cheek right up against yours (something you and the others are not unfamiliar with) and so you just give him a tight smile as he takes his pictures.

wooyoung of course makes sure to press a wet kiss to your cheek and you let out an 'ugh!' before lightly pushing him away from you. your boyfriend lets out a laugh at your reaction before he's putting his phone away.

"i hate when you do that," you tell him, wiping away the remainder of the kiss as you let him pull you back to him. "so gross."

"don't call my love gross," he says as you rest your head on his shoulder. the two of you once again sit in silence, you listening to the sounds of the other people in the airport as wooyoung gets out his phone once more to play a game. you both still had some time before you had to board the plane for paris.

"do you know what you're wearing yet?" wooyoung asked, breaking the silence.

"not completely, they told unnie they would have options for me to pick from when i get to my hotel," you tell him.

"is hongjoong going to that show too?"

"i'm not sure. i know he told me he would love to go with me, telling me that i've corrupted him with all the vivienne westwood i've been buying and wearing," you say with a small laugh as you think about your older boyfriend and captain.

“are you guys going to hangout together before you come home?” he then asks and you shrug your shoulders.

“if he wants to, he hasn’t said anything to me, so only time will tell i guess,” you say before closing your eyes. you know you should probably not fall asleep now or else trying to do so later on the plane will be a nightmare. but you can’t help it. not when wooyoung is so comfortable.

by the time the plane took off, you were about ready to doze off as you rested against wooyoung. your boyfriend held you close to him, his hand moving softly down your back and relaxing you.

"your hair's gotten so long, woo," you mumble softly as you reach over and play with his hair that he's been growing out for the past few months.

"do you like it more than hyung's?" he asks, referring to seonghwa and his own hair that he's been growing out. you can't help but laugh at how jealous wooyoung seems to be over whose hair you like more.

"i like both yours and hwa's hair evenly," you tell him and wooyoung lets out an annoyed huff at your answer.

"that was a safe answer, babe," he mumbles before his hands grab at your hips playfully. you let out a small gasp at the ticklish feeling, pulling away from wooyoung who is wearing a mischievous grin on his lips. you can't help but pout at him before watching him cup your face with both his hands. "don't pout, babe, you're too pretty for that."

"whatever," you say as he pulls you closer to him, his forehead against yours. you see wooyoung's eyes dart down to your lips before moving back up to your eyes. "just kiss me if you're going to," you tell him and wooyoung wastes no time in crashing his lips against yours. noses bumping against each other, but neither of you really care.

you're honestly thankful for the privacy that first-class gets because any other time and you would have had to wait till you got to the hotel. you rest your hands on wooyoung's shoulders as one of his goes to cradle the back of your head, slightly messing up the bun you had work so hard to put it in this morning.

oh well, guess you can try to fix it later.

when wooyoung pulls away from the kiss he makes sure to press another one to the corner of your lips.

“you should stay at my hotel tonight,” he says against your lips, as if ready to kiss them again, while one of his hands finds yours. his fingers fiddle with your team ring that rests on your ring finger. “we can order food and watch a movie, take a bath — i heard my hotel has a big bathtub we can use.”

“that's sounds nice. it’s been awhile since we took a bath together,” you say and wooyoung agrees softly. he kisses you one last time before the two of you fall asleep for the rest of the plane ride to paris.

note: sorry if this was a little rushed, i haven't wrote anything in months so i'm trying to get back in the grove. i also wrote this one before the hongjoong one lol so that's why this is shorter than that one! thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it!

[m1ngkis]

Thinking about a quickie at a house party w Mingi (18+)

A/N: My first intrusive smut on here y'all be nice....

Y'all were already late. You stumbling in the crowded house on shaky legs thanks to the mini skirt that had riled him up and had his fingers knuckle deep in your pussy on the way over. Him, towering over you with a secure hand on your hip, nudging you forward and scouting for a drink.

You said your hellos and waved at the people you recognized as a familiar bass line pounded through the hardwood floors.

"Want something to drink?" His deep voice traveled straight down your spine as his lips pressed close to your ear. No doubt he noticed your shivering and lack of urgency to find your friends.

You wanted, no, you needed him to finish what he started in the car or you thought you might combust any second. "No, Im okay. Just need to find somewhere to sit."

Immediately, Mingi started to scan the room. His height gave him the advantage to see over a majority of heads in the room but not a single chair was free for you to rest in.

"Sorry honey. I don't see a spot. You sure you're okay?" He knew you weren't. He knew you didn't get to cum in the car and it was all but killing you. The way he pressed up against your back and kept his breath warm against your neck. His fingers flexing against your skin as his hand weaved its way across your tummy, drawing you nearer to him, if that was even possible.

"Mingi.." You all but whined as your hand covered his above your belly button, your nails scratching at his skin.

"What is it baby? Say it and I'll take care of you, promise."

"Just a quickie. That's all I need, I swear. Please."

It took nothing for him to start guiding you through the house, ignoring the guys beckoning him over for a drinking game. He made a sharp turn and knocked on the door to the bathroom.

When nobody answered, he swung it open, the door banging the wall behind it and no doubt leaving a dent. He didn't care because once the door was shut and locked, the lights were flickered on and you were bent over the bathroom sink. Your mini skirt flipped up out of his way and your wet panties drug down your thighs and hanging around your ankles.

"Mingi, please fuck me please!" You whined, your body starting to break out in a sweat as he went to undo his jeans, tugging them down just enough to let his cock spring free.

You could hear him curse under his breath as he ran his fingers through your slick folds. "So wet. Shit, you're so wet."

Desperation, began taking over your senses as you pushed your hips back to meet him. "Relax honey. You know I can't just break you open like this."

"Please, I can take it. Mingi please!" You reached a hand back to grab his and interlocked your fingers. "Just put it in."

And he did, easing into you inch by inch until the burning stretch morphed into eye rolling pleasure. His soft grunts and your whines mixed in with the soft smacking of skin and the clink of his belt buckle. It was music to your ears and all you could do was mumble about how good it was. How you almost didn't want to cum because you didn't want it to end.

You got so lost in it, you forgot where you were until a pounding fist rapped against the door and Mingi shouted out. "Busy in here!"

His pace quickened and your orgasm hit you in waves, your moans almost overpowering the music booming through the house. "That's it. You good now?" You could see his sly smirk in the mirror over the sink before his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth dropped open, his cum spilling into you as he thrusted sloppily.

Once he pulled out and cleaned you up, he slipped your panties off your ankles and stuffed them into one of his jean pockets. "I think Ill take a drink now." You smiled up at him and he returned it with a kiss, patting your butt and leading you out the bathroom.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 26 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley says some things in the afterglow of winning custody of Noah that surprise you in the best way. You believe him, but you also need some time to think. But with some bad news on the horizon, when he tells you that he trusts you with Noah more than he trusts anyone else, you don't doubt him at all.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut, and age gap (18+)

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

"Just stay in bed," Bradley rasped when his alarm woke both of you on Thursday morning. You'd spent a good portion of Wednesday night telling him that you needed to go home, get used to your own space again. And then he had spent a few minutes listing all the reasons he wanted you to stay. 

Your favorite reason was that he and Noah needed you with them. He was insistent. 

"Daddy," you groaned, reaching for him, trying to keep him in bed. He rolled his big body on top of yours, propping himself up with his elbows to keep from crushing you. "I need to finish my school assignments by next week so I can graduate."

"I'll help you get them ready to submit," he promised as he kissed your lips. "Now you just stay put, Princess. I'm taking the day off from work. I'll drop Noah at daycare, try to get him back on his normal routine since he missed yesterday. And then I'll be back to spend the day with you."

"Really?" you asked as he got out of bed on your side. You had a side of the bed. You had a specific side of the bed that was yours in Bradley's bedroom in his beautiful house. You sank back against the pillows in contentment, so cozy in Bradley's sweatshirt.

"Yes," he promised. "I'll get him up and out the door, and I'll be back soon." You watched him get dressed in some jeans and a soft tee shirt. He shoved his phone and wallet into his pockets before kissing you on the forehead and saying, "I love you," like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

And then he was gone, and you were thinking about what Meredith might be doing right now. You hoped she was crying over the fact that you had outsmarted her, since she had been trying to manipulate you as much as she had Bradley. You rolled onto your side with a smile. Bradley already seemed so much more relaxed now that he and Noah were free and clear of Meredith. He'd briefly mentioned getting restraining orders, citing the desire to never hear that you saw Meredith in public again as his main reason for looking into it. He said he'd talk to Tracy about everything. 

You were just about to doze off again when Bradley walked back in with Noah in his arms. "He wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to you," he rasped, setting his son on the bed. You supposed that meant he didn't mind if Noah saw where you had slept last night. 

"Come here, sweet Noah," you whispered, pulling him in for a big hug and kissing his chubby cheek. I love you. Have fun at daycare."

"Love you," he said in his soft, little voice before Bradley scooped him up again and left the room. 

When you heard the front door close, you knew you wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, so you stretched and then got out of bed for the day. You wanted to grab a shower, but you thought it might be fun to wait until Bradley got back to do that. Instead you changed into one of his floral print shirts and made your way to the kitchen. 

You really should have been working on something for school, but when you opened the refrigerator for the coffee creamer, you sighed. They were basically out of food again already. A few eggs left in the carton and some vegetables would make a decent enough breakfast, but you'd need to help Bradley go grocery shopping again soon. 

You had just finished your mug of coffee and the grocery list when you heard the front door. "Hi," you called out to Bradley, and he walked into the kitchen where he immediately froze. There were coffee cups in his hands, and you could already see where he'd written Princess on one of them. "I'm going to make you breakfast."

But he was too busy staring at you, his gaze trailing down your body. You were immediately reminded that the only article of clothing you were wearing was his shirt, completely unbuttoned. 

Bradley set down the coffees and smirked at you. "You're gonna make me breakfast, Princess?" he asked. He grabbed your purple crown from where it had been left overnight next to the toaster, and he carefully put it on your head. 

"Yes," you whispered. "I was going to make you an omelette."

He groaned as his fingers stroked down along your cheek, caressing the side of your neck before continuing down the front of your body. You shivered as your eyes closed when he said, "You're so sensitive."

His fingers lingered on your belly before he started stroking your pussy. "Daddy," you gasped, and then he was on his knees in front of you. 

"You're perfect," he crooned, looking up at you. "Everything I want." His voice and his eyes were so open and honest, and then you ran your fingers through his hair. 

"I knew you'd have a good day, Daddy," you whispered with a grin. "After yesterday, you deserve a relaxing one."

"You know what will help me relax?" he asked. 

"Tell me."

And then his mouth was on your pussy.

--------------------

Bradley licked you up and down, loving the way you moaned softly every time his nose tapped your clit. When he ran his palm up and down the back of your thigh, you carefully put your leg over his shoulder, giving him even better access to your pretty pussy. And that purple paper crown on your head? All that did was make him feel like he and Noah had claimed you for their own. 

"Daddy?" you whispered breathlessly. "Are you going to make me squirt?"

Well. Now that was the only thing he wanted to do. "Is that what you need, Baby?" he asked, rubbing his mustache across your clit.

Your response was a bit incoherent, but it sounded like a yes. And Bradley was in the best mood he'd been in for weeks. Noah was his, and you were his, and he was going to meet up with Tracy next week to finalize everything that was important to him. So he'd gladly spend the whole day, right here on his knees with his mouth on your body until you came all over his face.

He smiled against you as he lapped up your wetness, but you really got loud when he added his fingers into the mix. You were leaning back against the counter, gripping the edge, and he knew he was going to have to get you to the edge of overstimulation. Just like last time in his bed. And just like the first time on the couch. 

So he changed up his pace, sometimes languid and sometimes frantic. And he changed up the pressure, sometimes feather soft and sometimes rough. His knees were starting to ache from how they were digging into the kitchen floor, but he didn't dare move. Because you were starting to get loud. Your head was tipped back, and your perfect breasts were on display as his colorful shirt fell open even more on your body. 

You were so young and flawless, and he never even tried to kid himself about the way that turned him on. But now you were his, and he would love you and take care of you well so that you'd want to stay. 

"Bradley!" you cried out, leg tightening against his back. "Oh!"

He grunted and rubbed his fingertips back and forth across your clit as the little bud tightened for him. He smiled as he changed his tempo. A little slower, and you were coming for him. A split second later, and you had pushed the back of his head closer as you squirted onto his mustache and lips. 

"Princess," he moaned as you sagged against him a little bit. You were still reeling as he cleaned you up with his tongue, eliciting little gasps from your softly parted lips. When he stood with a soft groan, he palmed himself through his jeans. He was rock hard as he pressed himself against you and stroked your tits. You were wrung out, biting your lip as your eyes fluttered open and closed, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted it so badly. "Will you let me fuck you, Baby?"

You nodded and turned your back to him. "Yes," you sighed, leaning down on the counter with your cheek pressed to your crossed arms. "Yes."

Bradley gingerly unzipped his jeans and pulled himself free, and when he buried his cock in your warmth he hissed in pleasure. You were mewling and whining softly, seemingly still exhausted from soaking his face, and Bradley couldn't believe you were letting him get off like this. He grabbed you by your hips, the hem of his shirt you were wearing brushing his wrists. Then he fucked you hard and thought about how you should wear his clothes all the time.

He wasn't going to last long in this state, palming and squeezing your hips and ass as he got you whining his name softly. He went a little harder, but as soon as you looked up at him and smiled softly, he was filling you with his cum. His loud groans filled the kitchen as his movements became jerky. And then he collapsed against your back with his lips on your neck. 

"You want me to make you an omelette, Daddy?" you asked softly while he was still inside you. 

"Yeah," he replied, wrapping you up in his arms. "Then I'm taking you out to lunch. We're going on a real date."

He watched you preen as his cum dripped down your legs. But you did nothing to clean it up as you washed your hands and started cracking eggs into a bowl. You added what was left of the cheese that was in the refrigerator along with some onions and peppers. After you made two omelettes, you settled onto his lap at the table

When you looked at the coffee cups, you hopped up again and started to dig in one of the drawers near the sink. "What's wrong, Baby?"

"Nothing," you murmured, returning to his lap a moment later with a permanent marker. Bradley watched you scribble over the word peasant on his cup and write Knight in your tidy handwriting. 

"That's flattering coming from a Princess," he whispered next to your ear. 

"It's true," you told him, taking his chin in your hand and kissing his lips. "You saved me and then you fought for Noah."

He closed his eyes as you stroked his chin with your thumb. The fact that he had his son all to himself meant he could share him with you. And he was working on a restraining order against Meredith to keep everyone a little safer. So maybe he was capable of more than he originally thought.

----------------------------

Shower time with Bradley ended up being more sweet than anything else as you and he got each other all soapy. He brought his phone in to play some music, and he sang along softly as his big hands glided along your slick skin. 

Once you were all dried off and in Bradley's bedroom, you just stood there naked. "I need to go back to my place. I hardly have any clothes here, and I need to do laundry."

He just grunted and said, "You should just move in with us."

You started to pull on your denim shorts and one of your tops as you rolled your eyes. "You're not serious."

But it didn't seem like he was joking at all, actually. He paused and looked at you as he put on some deodorant, his brown eyes sincere. "I'm serious," he said, his voice sounding a little more vulnerable than you expected it to. 

"I'll...think about it." But you already had. And the idea of it was too exciting for you to finish processing in front of him right now. He'd just been awarded sole custody of Noah yesterday. Both of you were probably feeling a little high on adrenaline and elation. 

But he just nodded and reached for your hand. "Let's stop at your place later after I take you out for lunch. If you want me to drop you off, I will."

You were already considering how it would be if you didn't get to make dinner for Noah and give him a kiss before Bradley tucked him into bed for the night, and you didn't like it one bit. You knew what your decision would end up being. You loved being here too much. Maybe you'd just stop home and get more of your stuff and your car.

As Bradley closed the passenger door for you after you climbed into the Bronco, you couldn't help but smile. "Is this our first date?" you asked him as he started the engine and backed out of his driveway. 

"No way," he replied. "Gotta count all the nights we watched movies on the couch with Noah. Oh, and the night I fed you the dinner that my date didn't stick around to eat," he said, smiling at you as he drove to one of the cute shopping districts in the city. "And just yesterday I took you to my custody hearing. That was a pretty romantic day out, yeah?"

You bit your lip and sighed. "So romantic. You really dial it up to eleven, Daddy."

"Only the best for a Princess," he insisted with a grin as he parallel parked in front of a cute bookshop. "I made a reservation for the cafe across the street."

Your eye bugged out. It was an expensive French bistrot. You were wearing cutoff shorts. "I'm underdressed!"

"You're fine," he insisted, leaning over to kiss your lips before he took the keys from the ignition. "But we have half an to kill. Bookshop?"

"Absolutely," you agreed. A few minutes later, you were running your fingers along the spines of some mystery novels while Bradley followed you so closely, you could feel his body heat. When you stopped to pick up a hardback, his lips found your neck, and his hands found your waist.

"Daddy," you scolded in a whisper.

"Can't help it."

Then you headed for the children's area, and your eyes lit up. "Noah would love this one!" You held up a picture book of dinosaurs, and Bradley let you hand it to him. 

"What else?" he asked, smiling as he followed you down the next aisle. 

"Outer space. Farm animals. Opposites. Cars. Fairy Tales." You handed him four more books and then picked up a fifth. "Airplanes."

"Well, he really needs that one," Bradley said, adding it to the pile as well.

"They have coloring books!" You knelt in front of the rack and chose three that he didn't already have, and Bradley took them before helping you to your feet. "Which one would he like the most besides the airplanes? I want to get him two."

Bradley shrugged. "We can get all of them."

"I can't afford all of them."

His eyebrows went up. "Baby, I don't want you spending your money on us. I'll buy them."

"But-"

"They can still be from you," he promised. "But I'll pay for them."

"Okay," you whispered, suddenly reminded that you and Bradley were not at the same points in life. He had a thriving career. You were going to be scrambling to finish your assignments in time to graduate and look for a job. And now, because of Meredith, you knew he had money. 

But you let him take you by the hand and lead you toward the register. You knew these books were going to cost nearly a hundred dollars. Then Bradley stopped short in front of a display of baby books. You felt his arm slip around your waist as he leaned down so his lips grazed your temple. 

"Been meaning to ask you, Princess," he said softly, and you turned to look up at him. His face was calm as his gaze dipped down to your lips. "Were you really buying a pregnancy test when you saw Meredith? You think you could be pregnant?"

"No!" you replied with a startled laugh. "Her lawyer just said that to get me upset! I'm not!"

"Okay," he said with a shrug. "Just checking to see if we should be buying any baby books."

You just shook your head as he set the books for Noah down near the registers. "Absolutely not! That would be a disaster."

"Nah," he whispered, taking out his wallet. "It would be okay. Well...maybe not quite yet, since you're just graduating now. But...later."

You were silent as he paid for the books, but you laced your fingers through his. You weren't sure quite what to say, as you and he walked across the street, so you just let your mind race with possibilities. 

And then you were seated at the adorable cafe table with him for lunch. The restaurant was all pastel colors, floral arrangements and expensive desserts. He ordered a bottle of champagne to share, and you were a little bit tipsy as you giggled and bit into a lemon macaron when the bill arrived. Your eyes bugged out when you saw it. Three hundred dollars. 

"Bradley," you gasped. "How much was the champagne?" 

"Don't worry about it," he said, giving you a funny look. 

But as you walked back toward the Bronco with his arm around your waist and a head full of champagne bubbles, you blurted out, "I'm not interested in you for your money."

"Never thought you were," he replied casually, opening the passenger door for you with a kiss. "Let's go stop by your place."

As he walked around to the driver's door, you knew you should insist that he drop you off at home. But when he climbed in, he turned to you and said, "I kind of miss Noah. Mind if we pick him up early after we stop to get you more clothing?"

And then your love for both of them felt so palpable all you could say was, "I miss him, too."

"It's settled then."

-----------------------

Later that evening, after the three of you went grocery shopping, Bradley watched you teach Noah how to play Go Fish on the living room floor with a forgotten bowl of popcorn next to you. He was essentially just your servant for the night, bringing both of you snacks and drinks while you played. Not that he minded at all. 

The fact that you tried to let him know you weren't into him just because he had a job and some money was pretty humorous. But then again, you'd just witnessed Meredith trying to fleece him. So while he didn't need you to say anything about it at all, he did appreciate that you had. 

Bradley had also surprised himself. When he considered that you might be pregnant? Well, he didn't hate the idea of it one bit. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted Noah to have a younger sibling or two. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to raise said children with you. But you were young. There would be time to plan for that in the future.

He sat on the couch and sorted his mail from the past few days. He'd been so preoccupied with Meredith and Tracy and everything going on, he realized he needed to catch up on chores. "Almost time for bed, Bub," he said, smiling as you let Noah win at the card game. Then his hand froze before opening the envelope that arrived today. 

Deployment papers. 

If he hadn't skipped out on work again today, he would have been informed in person. Shit. Six weeks away from home. He watched you laughing as you ate a few pieces of popcorn. And then Noah was climbing into your lap and asking you to read another one of the books you'd picked out for him. 

"Okay, but your dad said it's almost bedtime. How about we go brush your teeth and get pajamas on? And then I'll read the outer space book before you do goodnight kisses?"

Noah readily agreed, and then you were leading him from the room. Bradley took the opportunity to email Tracy as well as send a text to Nat. His best friend had been bugging him to elaborate about yesterday, but she also knew he needed a little bit of time to process things and take a little break after all the worrying. 

"Daddy?" you called out, and Bradley smiled as he stood. "We're ready for bed."

"I'm coming." He sat on Noah's floor and listened to you read the book about solar systems and space exploration while Noah looked at the pictures. And when it was time for goodnight kisses, Noah gave you one and then Bradley leaned down to smother his face with a dozen. He giggled and then yawned, and as Bradley took your hand and pulled you out of the room, Noah's eyes were drifting closed. 

You started to pull Bradley toward his bedroom with a smirk, but he shook his head. The startled look on your face reminded him that you were only accustomed to getting what you wanted around here now. And he loved that. "I need to show you something first," he insisted, kissing your forehead. 

"Okay, but why do you sound so reserved?"

"Just come here, please." He picked up the mail from where he left it, and then he sat down on the couch. You eased yourself down next to him, taking the papers when he handed them to you. "You know what that is?"

"No." But as soon as you scanned the header, your eyes went wide. You read for a few seconds before whispering, "You're being deployed?"

"Yes," he replied, but you had returned to the document in your hands, your eyes moving quickly down the page before you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

"Who's going to care for Noah?! Bradley, he needs to be on a schedule with daycare. And someone needs to make sure he eats healthy dinners and snacks. And he needs bedtime stories and coloring books." You looked panicked, and then tears filled your eyes. "And I don't want you to go away. I'll miss you too much."

He collected you onto his lap and swiped your tears away as they fell, but he couldn't help but smile. Your concern for Noah, ever since the very first day, made him feel so calm. And he knew you loved his son. "Well, I'm kind of hoping you'll care for Noah while I'm gone."

"Me?" you squeaked, lips parted in surprise. "You'd trust me with Noah by myself for six weeks?"

"More than I'd trust anyone else."

You threw your arms around his neck again and sobbed against him. "I'll do it. I'll stay with Noah. I'll take expert care of him."

"You already do."

-------------------------

Oh, Daddy! We don't want you to leave! But the way he trusts Princess is everything. Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 27

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[luveline]

grumpy!joel and sunshine!reader? like he is very gruff and short with people until his girl comes around and tess is like wow are you soft now?

tysm for ur request! disclaimer: I am not an expert in tlou I just think Joel is very fit and also scary ♥︎ tess and joel are roommates here (and also no hate on tess at all I tried to make her a realist rather than a pessimist but she may sound a little jaded) idk lol pls enjoy! fem!reader 

Joel's asleep when you come around. Tess is stirring her drink, small spoon bouncing against the sides of her mug with a metallic tap-tap-tap as your familiar knock raps the door. She doesn't bother yelling, just opens the door to let you in. 

"Hello," you say, though you wince when you spot Joel dozing on the couch. You drop your voice to a whisper. "Nice shiner, Tess." 

"Thanks." She steps aside to give you free reign, rolling her eyes when you toe off your shoes. 

You're not right in the head, in Tess' opinion. You're too soft for this life, and your continued survival feels like luck and nothing more. You know how she feels about you, and you know what she thinks: that to be vulnerable is to kill yourself. You don't feel the same. 

Joel's flat on his back. You push him against the cushions of the couch to make room, perching at his hip with a small sigh. He couldn't have been with Tess when she got hurt, his face clean of contusions. No speckled bruising, no scabbing cuts. 

You place your hand over the solid plane of his stomach and lean forward just a touch. You could kiss him. 

"Joel," you murmur, hand sliding to his waist. His jeans are rough under your palm. "Wake up. I have good news." 

He never wakes gently. His eyes scrunch, his lips tug down into a scowl. When he sees you, it takes a good long second for his agitation to fade into a more neutral expression. 

"Hey," you say, smiling. 

He doesn't smile back. "Where have you been?" he asks succinctly, voice rough with the lingering dregs of sleep. 

"Why should I tell you?"

He almost pushes you off of the couch as he sits up and swings his legs to the side. His shoes touch the floor, and of course he sleeps with his shoes on, he's ready for everything.

"Don't play games." 

You hum in delight at his dark tone and stand up before he can grab you, shivering at the feeling of his fingertips scratching your thighs. You backtrack through the room for your bag thrown haphazardly by the door. You pick it up, excited and scared at once, and scrabble to procure your promised 'good news'. 

"I wasn't far." 

"Your definition of far isn't one I trust," he says. 

"She's a big girl, Joel," Tess says, sipping her drink. She winces at the taste but isn't deterred. "She can take care of herself." 

And if you can't, who cares? You shouldn't be anybody else's problem, and to your credit you aren't. You take care of yourself. You take care of Joel, too, whenever you can, which is why you've brought him the book you found. 

"Here, handsome," you say, holding it out with little ceremony. 

Joel stands up to take it. He stares at the cover in silence. 

"It's a shame they can't include a snippet on every page," you lament. "Like when they used to put perfume samples straight on the paper. I don't know what half of those songs sound like. Which is weird, right? The biggest Billboard hits and I can't remember them." 

"And this is for…" 

"Your codes. Your radio codes?" Your beaming smile starts to shutter. Maybe it isn't useful after all.

Joel knows better than to ask what you want for it. You never ask for anything, ever. You give and you give and at first he'd thought you were stupid, just plain dumb. Generosity is a myth and everybody has their motives. He'd been suspicious of your angle, rejecting you, talking down on you, practically spitting at you to get lost. And you'd listened, for the most part, but then he'd see you in line after shifts for cards, around dark corners talking to dirty FEDRA officers, and you'd always impossibly feel his gaze and pin him with a smile. You've eroded his reluctance over time, and now you're here, sprightly and pretty in his too-big apartment filling every inch with light. 

He reaches across the gap and takes your hand. He squeezes, savouring the warmth of your smaller hand. You have delicate fingers compared to his, and they look smaller still enveloped in his grasp. 

"I'll make you something to eat," he says. 

You nod once, a pop of movement. "Thank you." 

You're not the one who should be saying it but you're the only one who's willing to. Thank you has become synonymous with I owe you. 

Tess lets her gaze flick between your two bodies, clearly startled. Joel drops your hand and it's too late, far too late, she's already gearing up to make fun. 

"Is this how it's gonna be now?" she asks. 

Joel huffs quietly. Tess talks with a brittle kind of love, the familiarity of knowing someone for a long time softening what would otherwise be ridicule. She thinks, without malice, that you and Joel are a bad idea.  

"Hasn't it been like this for a while?" you ask, turning to face her, your usual sunshine attitude worsened by Joel's affection. 

"You're fucking up my guy." 

"Don't get stiffed so often and you won't need a bodyguard," you say lightly. 

Joel snorts, tossing your catalogue of songs on the counter. He doesn't know if they have anything worth eating here, but he's gonna damn well try and find something. 

"You're soft," Tess says to Joel, quick and quipping as she dumps what's left of her drink into the sink. "I'm going out." 

Not much changes when she goes. You come to stand beside him at the counter, your elbow brushing his arm. He doesn't move away. 

Joel doesn't understand why you stick around. Doesn't know what it is that makes you so sweet on him. The first time you met, outside the old meat market on the edge of curfew, he'd been standing watch as Tess made a deal. You'd slunk up on him from the right, and said, "You look unhappy," with your usual softness. 

He'd turned to you in wonder. Wonder in the very worst sense of the word; what could possibly possess you to approach him? Agitation struck like the powdery head of a match against its box, fuck off on the tip of his tongue, and you'd said, "You ever hear that Bill Withers song? 'Ain't no sunshine without rain?'" 

He'd thought you were a wannabe member of the resistance, and that fuck off had rolled right out of his mouth with ease. Your smile hardly wavered. 

"It's 'when she's gone,'" he says now.

You look up at him, he looks down at you. His thick brows relax, and his brown eyes calm. It suits him, and you'd tell him, but you're confused. 

"Huh?" 

"That Bill Withers song. It's 'ain't no sunshine when she's gone,'" he corrects you, the you from the past. He's trying to tell you something without saying it out loud. 

"Oh," you say. Your eyelashes kiss in the corners as you smile. "Right. What am I thinking of?" 

"How should I know?" He doesn't sound mad, smiling at you very briefly.

"I don't know, I thought you knew everything." 

That's not true. He can't know everything, because he doesn't have a clue in the world what he did to deserve meeting you. 

—

please forgive any inaccuracies, I only played the game a little when I was much younger, and so this was made of my watching the first episode twice and some help from people / the wiki!! it's just for fun lol so I hope you enjoyed <3<3<3