#lemme be cotton pads

[lemmebe7]

The Lemme Be Day Sanitary Pads help you have a soft, comfortable, and rash-free period as it is super absorbent and lasts for up to 6 hours. Buy the pad today online!

[cute-sucker]

rafe was a sweetheart.

there was nothing you could do but admire all that he did for you. he was sweet in the way that he made sure you were okay, heavy hand across your waist as if he was your anchor.

you liked the way that he was causally sweet, something that you knew you could never explain, yet the fact that he left ice cream in tanyhill for you, or gently put you to bed when you had one too many shots.

he was gentle when taking care of you, calloused hand wiping your slobber, as you ached to be closer to him. sometimes he was annoyed with you, eyebrows raised as you tried to sit in his lap.

“what are you doing sweets? tryna get your makeup off,” he muttered, firmly trying to get you get sit back down. you groaned, pawing at his chest as his hands travelled to your cheeks with a cotton pad.

he coughed, “c’mon, don’t do that.”

you grin again his chest, wiggling closer to him. “do wha-”

finally, he pulled you up again, a firm look on his face as he shook his finger in your face. your reaction was to stumble, giggling harder while holding your stomach, before stopping

rafe’s finger stopped moving around your back, to gently look at your face, thick finger tapping on your face, “hey? lemme clean up for you.” 

you stilled letting him graze his hands on your face. you closed your eyes, mouth open as you tried to stay awake. rafe had a pleased look on his face as he watched you drowsily stay awake.

“awww, look at you,” he finally cooed, rough hands cupping your face. “little pup couldn���t stay awake.”

you didn’t reply, pretty much read asleep, munching on the tag on his shirt. finally, he picked you up, a short grunt falling from his lips before putting you in bed.

his gentle hands fixed your head, arranging you to sleep comfortably, and placing a quilt to tuck you in. he let out a soft sigh before sitting down next to you. your chest rose and fell, soft sighs escaping your mouth.

suddenly you peeled open your sleepy eyes, hands reaching out for rafe, “rafey? come sleep with me,” you muttered, rolling over to be closer to him, trying to tuck your head in the hollow of his collarbone. rafe groaned before letting you wrap your lithe hands around his chest.  

that night rafe had the best sleep he’d had in years.

[toxicanonymity]

No hard feelings

Joel miller x f!reader | 1.3k words I8+ MDNI. 1980 AU, you're a college student and have car trouble. Joel offers help, if he gets to take pics of you. Sleaze/creep, touching, pet names. Big ty to aly @iamasaddie for her 24 hr fic challenge (which had these pics) even if this doesn't fit the challenge due to length and not signing up lmao it still inspired me. I saw it last night when I read aly's hot fic, Feelings are a lot of work ❤️‍🔥❤️.

When your car broke down on a remote stretch away from campus, your face was dewy and your thighs stuck to the leather seat. You got out in your daisy dukes and thin white tee and popped the hood. You were bent over, looking at the smoking engine, when you heard a truck and looked back to see a faded yellow F-100 kicking up dust as it rolled to a stop. You tried to pull your shorts down enough to cover your ass cheeks as a man exited the truck in jeans and a teal polo with the collar all wonky. His salt and pepper hair was sweaty, and he held a cowboy hat to his chest.

“Miss,” he nodded. “Mind if I take a look?”

You agreed, and he put his hat on.

. . .

When he was done, he offered, “I could get ya fixed up long enough to get ya to the service station.”

“Thank you,” you gushed. “Thank you so much, really.”

“Oh I ain’t doin’ it for free, sugar,” he laughed darkly and your face fell.

“Alright,” you mumbled to the ground, then looked him in the eye. “Thanks for taking a look anyway.”

He looked you up and down and gave a low whistle. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

You crossed your arms, temporarily obscuring the view of your nipples poking through the worn cotton.

“Tell ya what,” he offered. “I’mma get ya fixed up here, then you’re gonna lemme take some pictures of ya.”

“You said go straight to the station.”

“Oh we can do it right here, sugar. Got my camera’n all,” he nodded toward his truck. “Whaddya say?”

“Alright,” you agreed, without any other options. No other cars had driven by in the time since he’d been there. He nodded, put on his cowboy hat, then put a toothpick in his mouth. “Wait in the truck if ya wan’t. Grab me a beer. One for you too.”

At least the beer was cold.

You didn't wait in his truck, you lowered the tailgate of the bed of his truck and sat there with your legs dangling off the back, watching him work.

—--

Sweat blotched his polo with darker patches until he stopped, took off his hat and dabbed his forehead with his arm. Then, as he pulled the polo over his head, that’s when you recognized him.

He put his cowboy hat back on, turned around, balled up his sweaty shirt, and threw it at you. “Grab me another beer, darlin’. Almost done here.”

You'd seen that broad back before, and his padded stomach that didn’t quite hide his strong abdomen.

As you handed him a lukewarm Coors light, you asked, “Don’t you work on campus at UT?”

“Heh,” he chuckled. “Recognize me?” He brazenly studied your tits, looking back and forth at them, then your mouth.

“Guess so,” you agreed.

“Soon as I took my shirt off, huh?” He gave you a wink then went back to working on your car.

Yeah, his physique was what caught your eye on campus. He was a janitor and he wore a gray jumpsuit. One day when you were walking home from class, he must’ve been on break, because he was leaned up against a maintenance vehicle with his jumpsuit hanging down, sleeves tied around his waist, brown skin glistening in the sun, having a cigarette. He turned his head to watch you walk by and gave you a small nod, then raised his eyebrows as a he took a drag. Then he stomped his cigarette out and turned around. You ogled his muscular back, and he looked over his shoulder and caught you.

. . .

When he finished working on your car, the sun was glaring as it approached the horizon. He put his wrinkled shirt back on, stowed some tools in his truck, and came back with a Polaroid camera hanging from his neck.

“Right there’s good,” he muttered with you still sitting on the bed of the truck

You fidgeted with your clothes and crossed your knees and he snapped a pic. The camera whirred and he took out the pic, waved it through the air, then slipped it into the breast pocket of his wrinkled shirt.

“Alright, now you’re gonna be a good girl for me,” he informed you. “And y’ain’t gonna be a prude about it ether.”

Your gut twisted, but at the same time, your pussy throbbed at his commands.

“What?” You asked.

His voice became low and gravely. “We’re gonna pull that shirt up’n lemme see those titties.”

You took a deep breath, and in the time you took to hesitate, he stepped into your personal space. “Uncross those pretty stems, darlin’.”

You obediently uncrossed your legs, and he spread your knees gently with his dirty hands as he got close enough for you to smell the beer on his breath, the stench of his sweat, and the memory of cigarettes.

Getting wet with your knees spread, you were glad to provide the distraction of showing your tits.

“Lift your arms," he directed.

You did, and he gently slid his thick, grubby fingers under the sides of your shirt. He lifted the shirt and let out a low whistle as your tits fell out. “Well God damn, even prettier than I thought.” You braced your hands behind you and watched his face as you let him have a look. It was hot to think of him jacking off to these photos later.

He glanced to your eyes and you didn’t stop him from nudging the bottom of your breasts with his thumbs, watching them swell upward.

“God damn,” he whispered. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sugar.”

After snapping a pic, he directed you in a couple of poses for more pics, then stood and looked you up and down.

“One more. You’re gonna show me your panties.”

What panties? God, by this point you were so wet, the crotch of your jeans had to be soaked through.

“No panties, huh?” He asked. “Well, lemme see your bush.”

When you hesitated, he comforted you, “That’s okay, darlin’. Sorry, you’re just so damn pretty.”

But you weren't off the hook.

“One more thing, okay? Bring those pretty legs up, put your feet on the truck,” he patted the tailgate.

You did as he instructed and could smell your own arousal. He inhaled sharply through his nose as he looked between your legs and raised his eyebrows.

You looked down and away.

“Here,” he offered and put his cowboy hat on you. “Hide your face if it makes ya feel better.”

It did, a little.

He took a pic with the hat tipped down, covering your face, shirt still pulled up over your tits, legs spread wide, and a wet mess peeking out from behind the darkened crotch of your shorts.

“Smell good enough to eat,” he mumbled as he slipped the photo in his pocket and got in your personal space. “Mind if I take some for the road?”

“What?” You asked

He slid his hand up your thigh and nudged the soaked denim aside. Your skin erupted in goosebumps and your loins throbbed with need.

“Your hands are dirty,” you said.

“Shhhh, It’s okay, sugar,” he coaxed you as his fingers met your slick. He lightly ran his digits through your sticky mess, then deep growl left his chest as he slid a finger inside, making you spasm. His mouth fell open as he added another. “God damn,” he whispered.

Headlights approached in the distance, shaking him from his trance.

“Hey, you know my name?” he asked as he withdrew his hand, fingers all shiny. You put your legs back together and hopped down off the truck.

“How would I know your name,” you asked, trying not to look at the bulge in his jeans.

He closed the tailgate.

“Well it’s on my uniform, darlin’.” He looked hurt. “See me all the time, even said hi once.”

“Sorry.”

“Eh, no hard feelings. Name’s Joel Miller.”

You shared your first name, and he nodded as he added your last name and said, “yeah, I know, sugar.” He turned and walked away, leaving his hat with you.

Your heart raced, and when he got in his truck, you half expected him to return with a shotgun and take you with him. But he drove off into the sunset, dust trailing behind him.

-------

-----

------

btw you must have seen him on campus before he got this hot new uniform

Thank you for reading! If you say what you liked (or Lbr if you say anything lmao) you'll make my day ❤️

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Hungry

Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Summary: Miguel has a lactation kink.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Smut, lactation kink, p in v, umm I think that's it. 18+ MDNI.

Disclaimer: never been pregnant, don't know how it works entirely. Just enjoy lol Not beta-read. Also, Miguel being a father warms my heart <3

...

It'd never crossed his mind before. After all, your milk was for the baby. 

Diego nursed from you well, his tiny lips latching onto your swollen nipple with little guidance. You held him close and kissed his brow while you sang to him softly. Now and then you'd hiss, your pretty face pinched from the inevitable pain of breastfeeding. 

Miguel watched you both with a full heart—watched how you cradled his milk-drunk son against your swollen breasts lovingly before putting him down for a nap.

And when he couldn't rip his eyes away from the swell of your chest (or how your nipples continued to drip tiny pearls), he thought nothing of it.

...

"Does it hurt?" He asked in the quietness of your bedroom, his toned arm thrown around your shoulders, holding you close.

Diego began to fidget where he was nestled comfortably on his father's bare chest, his wrinkled face blooming red before a cry ripped from his tiny body. 

"Does what hurt?" You asked in return, gently cooing down at the wailing infant, scooping him gingerly in your arms.

Miguel motioned toward your engorged breasts, his eyes lingering over the damp spots forming over your fitted t-shirt, your nipples leaking through the white cotton fabric.

"Sometimes," you sighed as soon as Diego latched on, "when he doesn't drink enough or bites too hard." 

Miguel studied his son as he drank his fill; until his little eyes fluttered with sleep and his milk-covered lips fell away from your chest. 

A bead of milk formed over your swollen nipple and before it ran down the roundness of your breast, Miguel caught it with the pad of his finger, swiping it up gently and placing it in his mouth.

He hummed in surprise, looking down at your flushed face and doe eyes. 

"What's it taste like?" You whispered curiously, watching Miguel lap at his finger like a cat.

He closed his eyes, savoring the flavor on his tongue before he grunted.

"Sweet."

...

“Lemme help you,” he muttered to you one night, watching you wince and groan while you palmed your full breasts. Diego had drank himself to sleep, leaving your tits full still, straining for release. “You’re in pain.” 

You worried your lip, leaning your head back against the headboard. “The breast pump is in the—”

“No,” he said, “not like that.” He carefully positioned himself between your legs, gently lifting your shirt to reveal your swollen tits, nipples hardening immediately. 

“Miguel—”

“Shh, amor.”

He took a breast in hand, squeezing softly and watching the tiny stream of white pour from your nipple before wrapping his lips around the bud and giving a gentle suck. The sweetness of your milk invaded his senses as he drank from you, his eyes fluttering.

You moaned above him, your fingers threading messily in his hair. 

He palmed your other breast, squeezing enough to let your milk pour over his hands and down his wrist, making a mess of you. His cock was straining against his briefs as he rutted into the mattress for some fiction.

“M-Miguel,” you sighed, ignoring the dampness that pooled over your skin and under you.

“Feels good?” He murmured over your damp skin, his lips covered in milk. He tugged gently on your nipple, giving it a few kitten licks before turning his attention to your other breast, quickly suckling down more of your milk. 

You didn’t answer him—couldn’t—but he knew the answer.

You’d fallen asleep shortly after Miguel had cleaned you up, cradling you in his arms. 

But he was far from satiated.

...

When he could finally put his cock in you, he made sure your pussy was nice and wet for him. 

He’d suck on your tits till you were leaking from both your nipples and between your legs before stuffing you good, your milk pouring over his lips and down his chin. Whatever escaped his mouth would be slurped off your smooth skin, his tongue dragging between your breasts as you covered his cock in your juices.

But you preferred to ride him recently. Miguel didn't mind. He wanted you to take your pleasure from him in the most comfortable way possible for you. He knew he was big, knew his cock was a challenge for you, even more so post-pregnancy, but you knew how to manage him.

Whenever you rode him it was in the kitchen. He’d sit on a chair with your body draped over his and you’d bounce on his cock at your leisure. A baby monitor would be placed on the table, always knocked over in your mission of conquering Miguel's lap.

Tonight was no different. Miguel wanted you.

Your cunt swallowed him perfectly, his cock cushioned within your swollen, warm walls.

Your breasts, bare from any restraints, bounced in his face with every swirl of your hips. They were enticing, your puffy nipples beading with the sweet milk he loved. 

Miguel grunted, grabbing them in his large hands and gently squeezing. Milk began to pour over his hands in thin white streams, seeping through his knuckles and down the expanse of your body. His mouth immediately sucked your nipples in quick succession, and you moaned as the soreness mixed with the pleasure of his cock ramming into you deep.

When you came it was with a loud cry. Miguel immediately latched off your tit, kissing you to silence your cries as you covered him completely in your juices. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue as he kissed you with fervor, effectively silencing you. 

He gave one final thrust into your tight heat before his hips stilled, groaning in your mouth as he came. By the end of it, you were both covered in spit, milk, and cum, panting against each other. 

Moments later, Diego demanded attention, his cries crackling through the baby monitor. You gently hissed as you pulled off Miguel's large cock, his spend and yours sliding down your thighs and dripping over his lap. 

“Your son is always hungry,” Miguel complained, his hands moving up to thumb at your sore nipples. You scoffed, snatching your robe off the table where Miguel had carelessly tossed it aside, placing it over your shoulders.

“Yeah,” you grinned, swiping a bead of your milk off Miguel’s lower lips, “just like his father."

[blujayonthewing]

cryin in da club

it really is a thing of beauty; I'm so glad I already had enough paint to fill it

[sweetshuga]

Best friend 2 ✰ MS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

bff!matt! Best friends are usually off limits, but how can you resist when he’s wearing that pretty pink tee knowing you love it when he does. «Part 1»

𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒍𝒚 – "Mhm... I know ’s your favourite, don’t you get why I wore it today?" He whispered in your ear, causing a shiver of excitement to strike up your spine. "Now, let’s be quiet alright? Chris and Nick are still home... you don’t want them to hear me fuck you senseless, do you pretty?" Is the last thing he whispered before bending you over the bathroom sink, fulfilling your fantasies—and his own.

Your breath hitched when he suddenly manhandled you – turning you around and bending you over the edge of the sink counter. His hands gripped your hips, fingers splaying out in a possessive way as he bent forward until his chest was flush against your back.

"So pretty," he cooed lowly, nuzzling his face in your hair and inhaling your scent, one hand slowly going around until it was splayed across your lower abdomen. "Let’s see just how wet you are." His pinky dipped into the waistband of your loose sweatpants – a silent question for permission.

Matt’s hand fully dipped in after you nodded your head, the pads of his fingers quickly finding the center of your panties and groaning at how fucking soaked you were.

"Fuuuck," he breathed out. "You fucking drenched your panties." He stated bluntly, his lips curling into a grin before speaking in a lower tone—voice dropping a few octaves down from arousal. "Allll this just for me hmm?" He dragged out his words, chuckling to himself.

"Mhmm—yeah, all for you..." you whispered, unable to talk any louder as the embarrassment settled in. Your face heated up and breath hitched as Matt’s fingers moved languidly over your clit through your soaking wet panties. You could feel all the sensations his skilled fingers were giving you thanks to the wet cotton fabric clinging to your pussy.

"Can I finger you sweetheart?" He whispered in your ear, teasing you on purpose even though he knew you were obviously very willing.

You let out a small whine, face flushing more as he kept teasing you over your underwear with gentle strokes. "You’re seriously gonna ask that?" Your breathless question elicited a small chuckle from him, the sound making you even more turned on than you already were. "Oh, baby, consent is important, I’m just being a caring best friend."

You hadn’t noticed his hand slipping into your underwear.

"Mhm, does best friends do what you’re doin—ahn! " Your teasing was cut short by your own unexpected moan caused by Matt’s fingers circling your bare slippery clit.

You were too into your own thoughts to have noticed his hand or the way he was giggling quietly to himself as his fingers slowly dragged themselves down your slit and prodded at your entrance teasingly before sliding back up, making you clench around nothing.

Matt smiled against your hair when he heard the needy whine escaping you and he decided to tease you further, thinking your reactions were endearing. "Oh? But I thought you didn’t want me to finger you since you didn’t give me permission sweetheart." He feigned Innocence, barely holding back his amusement.

"Matt!" You whined loudly, it making him break into a hearty chuckle. "Alright, alright, don’t shout." You scoffed, "I was not shoutin- Mmmfp!! " Your words were cut short, yet again, by your own noise.

Matt had slipped two long digits in you.

"Fuck—mm-ah, lemme at least finish my ffucking words." You gasped out softly in between breathy whines as Matt’s fingers dragged across your inner walls in painstakingly teasing slow strokes, letting himself feel every small bump and texture of your gummy walls. His fingers curled inside you, searching for that special spot.

Your whole body shuddered when Matt’s fingertips suddenly pushed against the outlarged spongy bump along the front wall of your sloppy cunt – your g-spot – causing you to let out a drawn out moan.

"Found it." Matt hummed triumphantly and he didn’t waste any more time, his digits starting to move rapidly in a digging motion against your sweet spot.

Sparks lit up behind your eyes, that threatened to roll back, with each motion of his fingers. You bit your lips to muffle your needy sounds since Nick and Chris were home and could potentially hear you if you were any louder.

However, that only turned him on more.

Matt groaned lowly when he felt your pussy clench around his fingers, his free hand snaking up to fondle your tits through your t-shirt, letting out another groan when he felt your warmth through the thin fabric, only now noticing your lack of a bra.

"Your pussy loves my fingers huh? Listen to all that sloppy shlurp’s and squelches." He teased, mimicking the wet watery sounds as he finger-fucked you, almost rendering you dumb on his fingers.

"F-fuck-- I’m gonna- Matt! Mmm-ahh." You finally let out your desperate moans, only to get silenced – or well, muffled – by Matt’s hand that was previously playing with your tits.

"Shh-shh, baby, quiet now hm? Don’t need Chris to come knocking and asking what we’re doing now do we?" He spoke in a hushed tone, his words strained with barely contained desire. You were quick to climax, his voice and fingers enough to send you over the edge.

"Fucking soaking my fingers with your cum huh?" He chuckled when your eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy, eyelashes fluttering and all.

Matt slowly pulled his fingers out after you finally relaxed against him, your legs about to give out any second—which gave him an idea to say the least.

He pushed your front flush against the counter beside the sink, leaning back to unbuckle his belt, the clanking of metal making your greedy cunt flutter in anticipation.

You don’t even know how it’s humanly possible to take off one’s pants and boxers so fast, but Matt made it possible as the blunt head of his hefty length nudged against your thigh in mere seconds after the sounds of his buckle being undone.

Matt’s fingers were quick to hook themselves in the waistband of your sweatpants and panties, pulling them down in one swift motion and eliciting a hiss from you due to the cool air hitting your overheated glistening pussy.

He let out a low whistle when he saw your pussy, all bare and glistening just for him. His hands reached out and spread your lips apart with his thumbs to reveal your spasming entrance.

"Could fucking cum from the sight alone, fuuck, you’re so pretty." His words were nothing more than a whisper to himself, but you caught them nonetheless.

"Matt- I need you inside, s’badly." You blurted out, a little too desperate for your liking, but then again, you couldn’t really wait any longer. You were dying for him to fuck you, and how could he refuse? You were handing yourself on a silver platter to him and he was more than ready to satisfy you.

Matt wrapped his fingers around your throat in a gentle grip, just to adjust your position. He pulled you up until your back was flush against his chest, the edge of the counter in front of you making it impossible to move as his cock slowly slid inside.

Hissing at the heat and the way you were already sucking him in as his fingers flexed against your neck, eyes closing shut as the feeling of you enveloping him inch by inch flooded his senses.

"Haahh... Fuck, you feel incredible." Matt moaned, his eyes fluttering open to look at you in the mirror in front of you. His eyes darkened and brows knitted together in pleasure when he saw the expression on your face.

"Holy fuck, look at yourself, all drunk on my cock and I just entered you." He raised his eyebrows as he ground his hips against your ass, stirring your insides and pressing against your cervix, causing you to let out a whimper of pleasure and slight pain from the pressure.

Matt drew out until just the tip remained before slowly sliding back in, setting a slow pace that let you feel every inch of his veiny shaft. Your pussy made wet squelching sounds the more he increased his pace, causing him to chuckle breathlessly.

As much as you loved the feeling of him going slowly and savoring the pleasure, you needed more and thus you started to meet his thrusts, pushing back against his hips.

Matt’s breath hitched in his throat when he felt you deliberately increase the pace, his hand that was previously around your throat snaking up to your mouth to muffle your moans.

"Greedy girl," he whispered as he increased his pace, relishing in your muffled moans and the way your hands scrambled to hold onto something—anything as his hips slapped hard against your ass with each brutal slam.

Seeing your eyes rolling back and pussy spasm around him along with the needy mewls that were far too loud to muffle almost made him finish, but he wanted you to come for him again, he wanted you to feel the most pleasure.

Your thighs trembled when the pads of his fingers found your slick swollen clit and started to draw furious swipes on it, causing you to squirm due to the intense waves of pleasure coursing through so suddenly, but you were trapped against the bathroom counter and him.

You could only take what he gave you.

𓆩♡𓆪

A few more minutes of his unrelenting pounding paired with his fingers strumming your sensitive clit and you were climaxing, hard.

Your mind blanked, the pleasure swallowing your whole being and wiping out any lingering thoughts—hell, you were pretty sure you forgot your own name at some point. Your vision blurred from tears of pleasure, hands scrambling down to clutch onto his wrist to stop his fingers from stimulating your overstimulated nub any further.

Matt was holding back from finishing, but the feeling of your pussy clamping down on him and pulling him inside with each contraction made it impossible to hold back his own orgasm and he climaxed pretty fucking hard, biting his lips to muffle his own moans as his hips stuttered against you.

His hand that was playing with your clit wrapped around your waist instead, his face contorting in unadulterated bliss and satisfaction as his balls drained all of his spend right into you.

The feeling of his warm milky seed flooding your quivering cunt was all you needed. A satisfied moan fell out of your parted lips the moment Matt lowered his hand and wrapped it around your waist, holding onto you tightly and pulling you more against him before letting his forehead rest on your shoulder.

The two of you stood there for a moment, trying to catch your breaths and also relishing in the afterglow, but that was until someone knocked on the bathroom door – which obviously startled both of you.

"Matt? You in there?" Chris’ voice came muffled through the door.

Matt’s body tensed behind you, "Uh, yeah, what’s up?" He rasped, sounding far too nervous and suspicious even to himself. A few seconds of silence felt like hours before Chris finally replied, "Hurry out, let’s finish the game, you disappeared in the middle of it."

Matt let out a sigh of relief before replying in a more steady voice. "Yeah... yeah, I’ll be out in a bit." He slowly pulled out with a wet pop, hissing quietly as he did so.

Chris seemed to have bought whatever Matt was making up and his footsteps faded away after telling Matt to hurry up again.

Matt started to help you clean between your legs with wet wipes before cleaning himself up and you both fixed your clothes and hair in the mirror.

Your thoughts wandered while you adjusted your clothes. Was this the beginning of a 'friends with benefits' type of a relationship? You weren’t sure, but you were pretty damn sure that this was the best fuck you’ve ever had. No, scrap that, the best you’ll ever probably have.

Matt’s definitely the best fucking friend ever.

𓆩♡𓆪

wc. 2k (2,004)

note. English is not my first language!

Isa’s note. First full fic of this year and we’re going back to basics! It’s so weird to look back at how much my fics have changed... Why is it so awkward after the sex part though? Like what am I supposed to write??? Anyway, the ending was kinda rushed ’cause I just wanted this fic done.

Also, @lolastrniolo requested a part two like so long ago lmao and I was still not used to writing smut so I couldn’t really write the continuation, but now that I’m more comfortable with it, here it is! 🎀

© sweetshuga

[rustedhearts]

tangerine dreams (boxer!steve harrington x fem librarian!reader)

summary: a quaint, californian summer day with your fiancé

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy

✶ the king of the ring (1994) ✶ record store

tags: fluff. that’s literally it. very very short and sweet. i guess smut-ish at the end.

"the summer's wild and i've been waiting for you, all this time, i adore you—can't you see, you're meant for me? the summer's hot but i've been cold without you, i was so wrong not to doubt your medellin, tangerine dreams."

— salvatore, lana del rey

malibu, california, july 1994

The surface of the aqua blue water ripples and glimmers with crystalline perfection under a blazing afternoon sun. Two bare feet—nails painted a starlet red—peek into the sliver of sun allowed by the umbrella shading a toweled lounge chair. A chilled glass of Coca Cola with a lemon wedge sits on a little wicker table hand-side. Pages of the newest Cosmopolitan flutter in the breeze whispering through the private Harrington residence.

And that's how Steve finds you.

He watches for a moment through the patio door, gym bag dropped near the staircase for later. Watches you reach blindly for your glass, bring it to your lips, and sip delicately through a red straw. Watches you reach up and brush a hair out of your eyes when the wind guides it there. Watches the diamond on your left hand catch a streak of sunlight and blind him with a dazzling beam. The diamond makes everything you wear look expensive, but he knows the pink Chanel bikini on your body is.

Steve slides the patio door open quietly, wedging himself through the opening. He slips his sneakers off near the door and tucks his socks inside, feet padding over the concrete around the pool. The kidney shape guides him to the row of chairs and matching umbrellas where you're seated, and it's only when you block the light at his feet that you bring yourself from your magazine to smile.

"Well, hello, Mr. Harrington."

He smiles, sinking a knee onto the edge of the chair to crawl the length of it. "Hello, angel."

You perch forward to capture his mouth, fingers cold from the Cola Cola when they sweep his jaw. The sugared carbonation sweetens your tongue and lines his mouth. When you release each other, you sink back against the towel again and cock your head with a delighted hum.

"Take your shirt off," you demand.

Steve chuckles heartily, and the pressure of it crinkles his eyes. You bring your lip between your teeth and let your eyes roll over the godly broadness of his sculpted body when he stands to his feet. He plucks the cotton of his t-shirt between his fingers at the back of his neck and pulls it over his head. His chestnut tresses ruffle and flounce over his brow as he reaches for his gym shorts, pushing until they pool around his feet.

In only his boxers, he wiggles his way between your legs and rests the back of his head against your thigh. His head is a source of damp heat against your skin, and you immediately drop your magazine to card your fingers through it near his temple. Steve's eyes shutter closed almost immediately.

"Mm," he hums. "Missed you s' much."

"Really? Those two hours were just agonizing without me?"

"Mhm." Steve reaches out for your other hand, and you let him take it. Your fingers intertwine over his bare chest.

He peeks one eye open and angles it toward your hand over his chest. “Lemme just see-oh! Yeah, it’s still there.”

You giggle as his mouth presses to the back of your hand. The shape of his lips should’ve been tattooed on your skin—it seemed that since the very moment he placed the ring on your finger, all Steve wanted to do was look at it. Kissing your hand, playing with your fingers—he was almost worse than you. It was your job to fawn over your engagement ring and show off the glitz of the jaw-dropping gem.

You suppose Steve just wanted to join in on the fawning.

“Haven’t taken it off,” you tell him, sweeping his hair away from his brow once more before placing your magazine on your knee again.

“Better not,” Steve teases, and your cheeks warm when he kisses your hand again.

“Do you wanna go in the pool with me in a minute?” you muse, flipping to the next page.

Steve rubs your finger between his own, fondling the knuckle. “Sure, baby. Gonna wear your ring in?”

“Oh my god, Steven—“

“‘m just makin’ sure! Don’t ‘Steven’ me, young lady.”

You snort, snapping your magazine closed to bat it on his stomach. “And don’t ‘young lady’ me.”

Steve pops his eyes open all the way and tips them up toward your face. His free hand cradles your jaw, giving you a little shake and squeeze.

“But you are—my lady.”

Your face blooms bright under his touch, and you let him use it to guide you down toward his mouth. Another Coca Cola kiss, and dollops of sweat shared from wet upper lips.

The world is always so quiet back here. Here between the palm trees, under the pristine, robin egg sky. In the jade of the grass manicured by a nice man that helps you fertilize your flowers. On the surface of the pool where you tend to bob on a long pink floaty. In the wicker chair near the bird bath, where Steve often finds you reading when the air is cool.

There are no flashing lights or snapping cameras. There are no voices screaming or cracks of leather slapping. The stench of sweat and blood are no longer here. There are no flares of panic and fear. Steve is not bruising skin or shedding blood.

Steve is lying between your legs, over your lap, and listening to the breeze. Steve is letting the sun warm him, and bronze his golden skin. Steve is holding your hand and admiring his promise to you. Steve is loving you.

Steve has always loved you.

“Come on, hot shot,” you mumble against his mouth. “Get in the pool with me. Promise I’ll wear my ring.”

You slip out from under his bearing weight and toss your magazine on the other chair. He’s already pushing to his feet by the time you’re sprinting to the pool, and he misses your arm by a hair when you leap into the deep end. Against the sharp splash of your body submerging, another follows. They collide, water spurting into the air and splattering onto the concrete surrounding the pool.

And then laughter as Steve’s arms cage around you and pull you in. Your giggles are shortly swallowed by his mouth over yours again, a pair of pink lips nipping and engulfing with greedy hunger until they rob the breath from your lungs. He brings you to the tiled lip of the pool, and the hard edges of the solid surface bite into your spine.

In the evening, he's just as sweet and warm. He drips water from his glistening, coppered skin and the lightening chestnut tresses that he shakes like a dog just to hear you shriek. He lights a cigarette on the lounge chair and rubs your manicured feet when they press into his lap.

Steve swears he loves the scent of sun on your skin, and he licks the salted surface like he means it when he lays you on the bathroom floor.

He holds your left hand the whole time his head remains between your legs. And he fiddles with the ring sitting heavily on your finger, pulling it down to rest at your thigh so he can watch it glisten in his peripheral with every writhe of your damp limbs.

His lovely little lady.

[akaridream]

all the right buttons (college AU Goku & Vegeta x reader)

have y'all seen the figure from FuzzFeet Studios featuring our favorite boys gaming on the couch in the sluttiest little shorts? lemme say, i was feeling thirsty after I saw it for the first time. thus, this fic was born.

vegeta and goku both will get a part 2, choose your own adventure style (coming very soon!)

As you padded down the hall of Bulma’s apartment building, muffled male voices arguing rang through the walls. Your favorite chemistry study buddy had warned that her two roommates would be home while you did homework together, but you hoped the voices were from a neighboring unit. Your hopes were dashed when you stood in front of Bulma’s door and knocked, the voices now quite clear in the hallway.

“Hey! Pipe down you two! My friend is here and we need to get some work done!” Bulma’s voice interrupted. The door swung open with a whoosh, revealing the blue-haired bombshell. She rolled her eyes and shuffled you inside.

“Sorry about the boys, Goku found his old game system and they’ve been at it for a while,” she explained as you kicked off your shoes and dropped your backpack by the kitchenette table. “I was hoping they’d be wrapping it up by now but-”

“Oh don’t worry about it!” you said with a dismissive wave. “I grew up with two brothers, so they won’t bother me!"

Beyond the kitchen sat the infamous roommates, backs turned on the couch, facing a comically small CRT television in front of Bulma’s fancy flat screen. The tiny TV sat precariously on a mini fridge, and on the floor was the little gray console, one which you hadn’t seen in at least a decade. The chiptune soundtrack was nostalgic and familiar.

“Is that Tenkaichi Tournament 5?” you asked.

“Yeah!” came the chipper voice from the guy on the left, though his focus remained on the game. His black hair splayed in all directions and his blue tank barely covered his built shoulders.

Oh shit. These boys are fit, you thought.

The guy in blue’s arms were bulky and strong, intimidatingly so. And the blond guy was just as fine with a cut-up yellow racerback showing off the hard work he had put into his lats. With their backs turned, you shamelessly admired what you could see of them, salivating at the sight of their carved muscles.

Bulma elbowed you and lifted a brow, tilting her head in the direction of the guys. Your eyes grew large and you fanned your face, mouthing “Oh my god” to her. She grinned and nodded.

“This is my friend from chemistry I was telling you about!” Bulma yelled over the TV, hands on her hips.

The guy in blue paused their game and turned around, draping his arm over the back of the worn couch.

“Hi!” he said in a sweet voice, eyes bright and friendly behind a pair of black frames.

The blond gave him a dirty look for pausing the game. “Hello,” he offered over his shoulder.

“I’m Goku! Nice to meet you!” he said with a wave. “This is Vegeta. Sorry, he’s a little sour because he’s lost three rounds in a row!”

The blond scoffed. “I am not sour! You just keep spamming your super move and it’s fucking annoying!”

“Have you tried countering him with a block?” you asked. That got the blond’s full attention and he turned around to you with an incredulous expression.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

With a look at both of their faces, you weren’t sure who was more handsome. Goku had boyish good looks and a natural charm, complimented by his endearingly wild hair. Vegeta resembled a model with smoldering eyes and immaculately styled hair sweeping upward. It was like comparing a golden retriever and a wolf: both were beautiful in their own ways. Had you known her roommates were perfect 10s, you would have opted for an outfit more put-together than your cotton booty shorts and oversized tee…

You swallowed, suddenly nervous under the gaze of two gorgeous men. “Um, if you hold down or back when he tries to hit you with a super move, you’ll block half the damage. But you have to get the timing just right,” you explained.

Vegeta pouted his lips and turned to Goku. “You didn’t tell me that, Kakarot!”

Goku laughed and shrugged. “I thought you knew how to block!”

“So you’ve been winning because you haven’t told me all the rules! New match, come on!” Vegeta shouted.

“It’s not really a rule,” Goku murmured with a glance to you and a smile. You smirked back as he turned towards their game once again.

“Try to keep it at a reasonable level guys, please. We have an exam next week and I am not letting my A slip to an A-minus because of this stupid game!” Bulma warned and led you to the round table in the kitchen. You extracted your laptop and a notebook from your backpack and opened up to your most recent homework.

From your seat in the kitchen, you could see directly between the pair of gentlemen, straight to the tiny TV. You couldn’t help but watch as Vegeta’s character desperately tried to master the block timing, barely eeking out a victory.

“HA!” Vegeta celebrated. “In your face! See, all I needed was to actually know all there is to the game to beat you!”

“Oh whatever Vegeta! Bet you can’t do it twice in a row!”

Bulma tapped a manicured finger on your laptop. “Um helloooo? Are you with me?” she asked.

You blushed and turned in your chair towards her. “Yes, I’m sorry! My brothers and I used to play that game together all the time, it’s been a while since I last saw it.”

She smiled at you knowingly. “Or are you just enjoying the eye candy?”

You sucked on your lips and shrugged. “Well… I’m not not enjoying it.”

The two of you snickered quietly at the table.

“I’ve heard that ladies find them attractive, but I’ve known them both since we were little kids. I just can’t see them that way, you know?” she said.

You nodded and glanced over at them, making sure they weren’t listening in. “So you’ve never dated either of them?”

“Goku, never. There was a very brief time in middle school where Vegeta and I went out but it just got weird and… Ugh, I don’t even know how to explain it. But that was ages ago. And both of them are single now,” she offered, brow raised.

You tapped your pencil to your lips. “Hm. Good to know…”

Despite the looming chemistry exam, between the noisy video game and the attractive boys playing it, your focus was gone. As the evening glow began to darken, every few minutes you glanced over between the muscular shoulders on display to see who was in the lead. They were quite evenly matched, trading wins without any notable streaks for either.

After having to steal your attention back several times, Bulma snapped her laptop shut and shook her head.

“We aren’t getting anything done tonight, are we?” she asked.

You turned fully towards her. “Geez, I’m sorry Bulma. I know you wanted to have this assignment finished up but-”

She chuckled and waved her hand. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Like I said, we both have solid A’s and the exam isn’t ‘til next week. We’ve got plenty of time. Go see if they’ll let you play a round!”

“You really don’t mind?” you asked, glancing over the back of the couch once more.

“No, we’ll finish up later. Go have some fun!” she insisted.

You grinned and stuffed your belongings back into your backpack and set it by the front door. “Thanks!”

Just as you approached the living area, Goku rose from the couch and stretched, his skimpy tank top rising to show his midriff. It was just as toned and hard as his arms. The tiny gray shorts he wore left little to the imagination, in both the bulk of his thighs and the size of his package. Oh Christ, you though. The room suddenly felt intensely hot.

“Done already?” you asked, trying not to drool.

Goku smiled. “Nah, I’m just taking a quick water break. You want anything?” he asked.

“Not to drink, but I wouldn’t mind going a round or two at Tenkaichi,” you said.

“Sure!” Goku said. He walked around the couch and handed you the controller on the way to the kitchen. “Kick his ass!”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow and looked at you over his shoulder. “Hm. Bring it on.”

As you walked around and plopped on the couch next to Vegeta, you got a better look at him. Significantly smaller in stature than Goku but just as built, he sat at the edge of the cushion with his elbows on his knees. You chuckled internally, recognizing it as the ‘serious’ pose your oldest brother took when playing video games. His gym shorts fit too small, his muscular legs pulling the fabric tight in places. The cut-off tank he wore displayed his fine musculature in a way that made your heart stutter.

Fuck’s sake, he is unbelievably hot, you thought.

Finally tearing your hungry gaze away, you selected the only female character in the game, earning a sideways smirk from your opponent.

“No way you’ll win with her,” he boasted as the game loaded.

“We’ll see,” you contested.

You took a few moments to refamiliarize yourself with the controls, but held your own against Vegeta. He had quickly mastered the block, but the timing came back to you like an old friend. The match was close the entire time until Vegeta managed to pull off a super move while you were in the air, catching you off guard. He smiled.

“A valiant effort,” he offered. “Best two out of three?”

“Of course!”

You fought again, but this time, you managed to recall a hidden combo you had memorized way back in the day. It took your opponent by complete surprise, depleting his health significantly before you moved in to finish the job for an easy win.

“What the hell was that?” he barked.

You grew shy and shrunk into the couch. “Just some muscle memory coming back to me. I’m guessing Goku didn’t tell you about hidden moves either, then?”

Vegeta turned towards you wearing a curious expression.

“Of course he didn’t. There are hidden moves?”

You pulled out your phone and furiously typed away. “Yeah! Each character has a combo that isn’t listed in the actual game anywhere, but they’re the strongest moves there are. My brothers and I used to play this all the time back in the day, but I only know Chacha’s combo. I’m looking up the combo for Prince Monkey so you can try it.”

He eyed you up and down as you searched, admiring the fact that you needed no makeup to look cute. Your features were soft and feminine, your smile lighting up your entire face. His cheeks grew warm when you scooted closer to him on the couch, showing him your phone.

“Here’s the button input. Give it a try!” you encouraged, leaning forward into your own ‘serious’ gaming pose, knee touching his.

He did as you suggested, but struggled with the combo at first. You eased back in the fight, allowing him time to figure it out before he finally blasted you away, winning the match by a hair.

“Nice! You did it!” you praised.

“It’ll be interesting to use that move against Kakarot,” he mused with a smirk.

“Kakarot? I thought his name was Goku,” you said.

“Kakarot is my first name, but I always go by my middle name,” Goku explained as he returned. “He just calls me that because he’s an ass.”

Goku held a dripping bottle of water against the back of Vegeta’s neck, making him recoil and snatch the bottle away.

“So who won?” Goku asked, taking a seat on your left and sandwiching you between two chiseled thighs.

“That would be Prince Monkey,” you admitted. “I took one round though.”

“You held your own well against me,” Vegeta said, giving a tiny hint of a smile. “It was an admirable effort.”

You nodded in appreciation and handed the controller back to Goku, but he waved you off and took a swig of water from his bottle.

“Keep playing as long as you want!” he said.

And so you did, managing to beat Vegeta in the next round thanks to your mastery over the hidden combo. Goku was flabbergasted when he saw the wildly powerful moves for the first time.

“Whoa! What the heck are those?”

"Hidden combos. You’ll have to figure it out on your own, Kakarot!” Vegeta sneered, his knee bumping into yours, then his elbow.

“Hey!” you chuckled, elbowing him back. “Quit trying to throw me off!”

“What are you talking about?” Vegeta rebutted. “I’m not doing anything!” He leaned against you and jostled your arm with his elbow.

“No fair!” you cried. You still managed to win the match, making Vegeta huff in annoyance.

Goku laughed. “Damn, she’s good!”

You shoved Vegeta playfully as he leaned for his bottle of water on the floor. You caught a glint of flirty eye contact as he did, making you want to kick your feet.

“That’s two to two,” Vegeta said. “One more to break the tie?”

“Absolutely. But I do want to change characters,” you said, inputting a code on the character select screen.

“King Monkey?” Goku asked after a new selection appeared.

“Wait, there’s another character?” Vegeta squawked. You nodded proudly.

“Yep. I know all the secrets to this game! Let’s see who will come out on top now!”

King Monkey, a larger and stronger version of his son, quickly dominated with a combo that devastated Vegeta. Despite his best efforts, he struggled to damage you, letting you come out on top without much trouble. Vegeta tossed his head and leaned back on the couch with an irritated grumble.

“Oh man!” Goku said. “That was really one-sided!”

You shrugged and laughed. “Well, King Monkey is a boss character so he’s not exactly fair. But I had to get him back for fighting dirty!”

“Tch, whatever,” Vegeta pouted, handing his controller off to Goku. “I have to get going anyway.”

You frowned and watched him get off the couch and head towards his bedroom down the hall. “Aw, bummer. Where you off to?”

“Astronomy lab,” he said over his shoulder.

Bulma called from the kitchen. “Oh, that’s finally happening?”

“Yes, finally,” Vegeta yelled down the hall, then reappeared with his backpack. “First clear evening in weeks. Cloud cover has been a pain in the ass all semester.”

“Sounds super interesting,” you said. “Well, it was really nice meeting you Vegeta!”

He gave a small smile and wave as he headed out the door. “Yeah. Been fun. See you around.”

“See ya, Jeeta!” Goku called from the couch.

As the door shut behind him, you blushed at the sweet, barely-there smile that had formed on his lips as he said goodbye. Intrigued by his stony, competitive personality, you wondered how Bulma would feel about you asking for his number…

“So he’s an astronomy major?” you asked. Bulma padded over and sat on the arm of the couch.

“Astrophysics, actually,” she explained.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Whoa. Didn’t take him for such an academic.”

Bulma snorted. “I know, right? Seems like more of a meathead like Goku.”

Expecting a retort for the insult, you turned towards him, but Goku was unperturbed.

“You gonna let her call you a meathead?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Well, I’m a kinesiology major, so I kind of am!”

You nodded. “Ah, I see. So you wanna be a physical therapist then?”

“I could do that,” he said, leaned his head from side to side. “But I also think running my own gym would be fun. Haven’t decided yet though.”

Quintessential himbo, you thought to yourself, smiling. Bulma’s roommates sure were interesting, to say the least. “Well, you certainly have the physique for it!”

“Thanks!” Goku said with pride. “Vegeta and I lift together all the time. Even though he’s really hard-working on his studies, he works just as hard in the gym. You should see all the other astro nerds, they’re like half his size! Well, in the muscle department at least.” Bulma laughed.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of the pint-sized yet built Vegeta sitting in class with a bunch of pale, scrawny bookworms he could tear in half.

“So are you a chem major like Bulma?” Goku asked.

“Oh gosh, I could never do chemical engineering like her!” you said. “I’m just a regular chemistry major. She’s way smarter than me, plus I don’t really like math all that much.”

“Ugh, me neither!” Goku said, selecting Master Turtle as his character to fight you. “I barely scraped by the general math class, and that was all thanks to Bulma and Vegeta! I’d be stuck in there forever if it wasn’t for them!”

You fought round after round, not even noticing when Bulma slipped away to her bedroom. Conversation flowed easily with the amicable Goku. He had a way of making you feel comfortable even in the silence. He asked about your brothers, told you that he had an older brother but Vegeta was more like a brother to him. As you got to know each other, the twilight faded into darkness, the only light in the living room coming from the tiny TV.

“I need a break, my thumbs are killing me,” you said, rolling your wrists.

“Can I try out that hidden character you had earlier?” Goku asked.

You took his controller and punched in the secret code for him. As you handed it back, your fingers brushed his for an instant. You made brief eye contact, his handsome features illuminated by the TV. He couldn't help but smile at the dusting of blush that bloomed across your cheeks. Your long lashes framed your pretty eyes perfectly, he thought, and your bright smile made his stomach feel lighter than air. Neither of you had noticed that you had migrated towards the center of the couch, only separated by an inch between your thighs.

You watched Goku figure out the new character, following his expressive brown eyes dancing across the screen. You hoped he couldn’t tell how hard you were staring at him from the corner of your eye. He was too damn handsome to take your eyes off of for long. And his pecs looked like they’d make a perfect pillow…

As Goku fought against the computer-controlled Prince Monkey, a twinge of conflict made you bite your lip.

Shit, you thought. I have no idea which of these guys I like better! Surely you couldn’t ask Bulma for both of their numbers, that would just be greedy. But you had to get one of them. No way could you pass up the opportunity. They were far too fine.

As if she could sense your dilemma, Bulma emerged from her bedroom and came back into the living area.

“I cannot believe how long you have been playing that damn game, Goku,” she laughed.

He grinned. “I’m just glad my old TV still works! Wish we could hook it up to the big screen though.”

As he continued to play, you stood from the couch and motioned for Bulma to join you in the kitchen.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I have a question,” you whispered, looking over your shoulder to make sure Goku was distracted by the game.

Bulma got the hint and lowered her voice. “Sure.”

“How would you feel…” you hesitated. “If I wanted one of your roommate’s numbers?”

She grinned like a Cheshire cat. “I freaking knew it. Which one though?”

You crossed your arms. “That’s the problem. I can’t decide!”

Bulma put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Are you for real?”

You nodded and smooshed your cheeks in your hands. “They’re both so hot!”

Bulma thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “Ooh! I have an idea! Let me ask them how they felt about you, try to get a feel for which of them vibed with you the best.”

“Oh gosh, are you sure?” you asked. “Don’t make it too obvious though.”

Bulma smirked. “Please. I know the art of subtlety, my dear. I’ve got you covered.”

You bounced with glee. “You’re the best!”

“I know!” Bulma said with a shrug and proud smile.

After your nightly shower and bedtime routine, you climbed into bed to see your phone lit up with a new message.

BULMA: soooo i talked to the boys about you

YOU: ahhh

YOU: i’m gonna puke

BULMA: one of them actually asked about you before i got the chance to ;)

YOU: omg fr shut up

BULMA: wanna guess which one???

Part 2: Goku

Part 2: Vegeta coming soon!

dbz masterlist

tags: @artof-aristocracy

[princessbrunette]

jj def the type of boyf to help you take off ur makeup properly and do your skincare routine for you if ur tired or just not feeling yourself that day , he knows every step from watching you like a puppy everynight :(( - 🍮

⋆₊♡⊹ ˖ ݁˚ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ˚ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⊹♡₊⋆

whenever you were sad, jj always went the extra mile to make you smile without forcing you to talk about the problem ‘til you’re ready. this time around, you’re sat on the sink of your bathroom, your skincare items lined up beside you as you pout, just having finished crying off your makeup and having jj help you wash it off.

“alright, what’s the next step… next step, next step…” he mutters to himself, eyeing the miscellaneous bottles and tubs as he wiggles his fingers pensively.

“cleanse—”

“cleanser,” he interrupts louder, pretending he thought of it by himself. he gives you an obvious smile, shaking his head before surprisingly reaching for the right bottle. “knew that.”

he uncaps it, carefully pouring the liquid to make a pool in his cupped palm instead of onto a cotton pad like you usually do it. you frown, watching him dip two fingers into the watery liquid before smearing it on your face in random places like it was war paint.

“jj, that is not how you apply it—” he can hear the amused lilt to your sniffly voice, knowing his methods of entertainment had to be somewhat working on your mood and his lip flicks up into a near smile at this, pleased with himself.

“ah ah, i’ll have you know i’m the skincare professional here. i went to cosmonatology school to gain this important knowledge, thank you—”

“cosmetology.” you correct and he scoffs.

“pfft, shows how much you know.” he rubs the rest into your face before stepping back, widening his arms. “voila. see? i think this might be my calling.”

you let the smile sink onto your swollen lips, wet eyes blinking slowly like a pleased cat. you were so in love with him.

“what’s the next step?” you ask happily, softly.

“uh, lemme think, the next step.” he mutters, stepping into your space. “i think kisses, pro’lly— yeah that sounds right.” his voice drops lower as he brings you in, kissing you. jj always knew how to make you feel better.

⋆₊♡⊹ ˖ ݁˚ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ˚ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⊹♡₊⋆

[notroosterbradshaw]

slow dancing in a burning room - five.two

word count: 6.2k

warnings: nsfw 18+, smut, language, angst.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: you made it! this chapter has been the hardest and most involved to write to date. I hope you enjoy it. thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I truly appreciate all the effort you make to show your support and if you like it... please comment and reblog it! x

five.one

“I love you,” he smiled against your lips as raised your hips to grind against his. “Fuck,” he breathed. “You feel amazing,” his hips moved so slowly but you kept his lips against yours in hopes if he was concentrating on your kiss, he would keep it measured, he could keep it safe. 

You'd forgotten how deep his voice could be in moments just like this. And it was so difficult not to get lost with him. Intentions clear, you couldn't resist because you wanted him just as desperately.

"Tell me you need more, love," his tongue lapped at your pulse, his teeth sinking into your skin, the linger of your perfume spurring him on further and you lost your fingers into his unkempt curls, your thumbs padding the soft beard that was growing in on his jaw, denying him was futile.

"Yes..." you answered finally and could fell his smile as he moved to kiss you.

"Lemme show you what you've been missing," he crawled to his knees, his anxious fingers pressing against the flesh of your thighs, creeping to your waist and tenderly sinking under the soft cotton of your undies, dragging them down slowly. His lower lip pulled into his teeth as he failed to slick back his grin. “And you’re so… wet. Look at your glistening, love... Have you missed me too?" he pushed away his boxer briefs before lowering himself to cage his arms around you, his cock resting at your entrance and teasing himself with your slick heat.

And he kissed you, he kissed you so thoroughly you felt like a teenager again as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your nails gripping into the thick ropes of muscle, gagging to keep him in your space. He hummed, pleased, against your lips, his tongue soft and probing against yours.

"Let me feel you, love," he said, a hand slinking between your legs and he grinned as he padded at your clit, and you whispered a litany of curses, begging for his long fingers, unable to withstand writhing beneath him.

"Your cock..." you begged as he nodded, wrapping his palm around his dick, coating the head in your arousal, mixing with his pre-cum. “Let me ride you, sweetheart,” you told him breathlessly, but that nagging voice in your mind wanted to keep him safe, and protected, and not aggravate anything. “If you think that will be okay?”

Like the cat that got the cream, he smiled and without effort, rolled your body, eagerly guiding his cock in deep. He inhaled sharply, hoping to even out his breath as his head fell back against the soft pillows. "Ride away, love. I just don't know how I'll last so let’s get rid of this so I can see all of you..." he admitted, rolling his hips to hit that sweet, precious place inside and you tried in vain to bite back the illicit sounds that were escaping you as he whipped off your tee (an old Navy top that you had adopted as yours during own of his first sleepovers all those months ago). You felt feral under his gaze. You had denied him for so long and while you just wanted to do right for his recovery, even without his medical clearance, you were as pent up as he was.

You couldn't bite back the hiss as he held your waist and watched you move and roll like the waves above him.

“Look at you...” his palms reached up to tug the ends of your hair, and he traced down your shoulder, massaging your scorching skin. He traced its blemishes, committing your beautiful body to memory and how giddy it was only he who saw you like this.

One hand secured on your hip, and you ground above him, his other hand palming your breast, his thumb playing with your nipple, his gleaming teeth chewing his lower lip to blood... desperate not for this to be over before it began. "All mine," he reminded you with a growl. Maybe you weren't the only feral one...

It had been weeks since you'd been intimate. Since the night he left before -

Well frankly, before the night your lives turned on their heads.

You grasped his wrists, trusting him implicitly, forgetting all, his body proving it was under absolutely no duress and you couldn't hurt him tonight.

He knew your body like the lyrics of his favourite song, he was your keenest of student and always wanted to know what made you feel delirious. “You feel sooo goddamn good,” he drawled, the bliss in his rasp turning you on further - you were so drenched with desire for him, you'd missed how his powerful body could make you feel so fuckin' hot. “I’ve missed you, baby. Maybe holding back wasn’t such a bad idea…” he muttered incredulously, with a disbelieving huff as he raised his hips to meet yours. "Thatta girl, that's my beautiful girl."

You loved this man and were a team, even with all your faults, times just like reminded you just how perfect you fit together.

But there was no denying there were cracks in the foundations… and you both knew they couldn’t be fixed without more openness and honesty on both behalves. It scared you because you knew there was so much he was holding back from you and even though you were connected physically, you weren’t sure you’d ever felt so confused or distant from him. 

You knew all the fear you were hiding from him too. In a few weeks, he'd be back at work. Even at his desk, but the gym was beckoning, his head was in the clouds, dreaming of when he could get back in the air.

And that terrified you most. Because if there was one thing that scared you above all else... it was the chance of losing him for good. Of never seeing him again. And knowing he was truly happiest when he was putting his body through the wringer with sustained force, speed and agility.

You didn't have that in you. It wasn't something you could pretend you were okay with anymore. You never thought you'd be scared for him. But he told you a million times he was safer in the air than he was with two feet planted on the ground.

But how was that true, when he came home to you batted, black and blue? He could have died!

Relinquishing a palm, he brought his long index and middle fingers to your mouth, groaning without abandon as you sucked without question, and he imagined your mouth wrapped around his cock, one of your immaculate specialities. How you could almost take every inch deep - “Get 'em nice and wet for me,” he instructed, as you did as you were told. With a pop, he took away his hand and tenderly opened you up to him, your slick and spit mixing against your thrumming clit. Desperate for friction… desperate to cum.

Every part of your body quaked from the tips of your toes to the ends of your hair. You couldn’t withhold the noises that seemed to be coming from the innermost primal part of you. The weight on your body was greedily welcomed and needed as your orgasm continued powering through you only to match the ferocity of the man under you, his dreamlike features gleaming in a fine sheen of sweat as his body pummelled into you.

But the way you came, the tremors of your body shuddering against his as he cursed, driving his hips rough into yours and he came undone, your pussy milking his pulsating cock was all you needed at that moment. He tried in vain to drag your orgasm out, wanting to take every ounce from you as he held back moan and fucking the last of his spend in you.

He held you tight, reaching to kiss your brow as you lowered your body down on his, burying your face in his chest. His breathing laboured, body sated and he kissed you so gently he was scared you'd break. "I love you," he whispered against your lips, his breath hot across your face.

"I love you, Bradley. I love you so much," you told him as he wrapped you against him tight, still buried deep. He wasn't in a rush to pull out and you weren't in a rush to make him.

"I know, love. I know..."

It was the best you had been together in the weeks since Bradley had returned home. He was fit, happy, and on your lunch break home for a quiet bite, he’d wrangled afternoon delight twice this week, and he honestly couldn’t be prouder of himself. Things were looking up for both of you. You’d confided to him you had been considering moving to the next step of your business, you wanted to add to the facilities. Maybe an infrared sauna, maybe put in a little cafe' arrangement which could mean more staff as well.

It was small but things cost money and you were a swim teacher by trade, it didn’t leave you bathing in gold by any stretch of the imagination. You wouldn’t claim in the slightest to know about loans, equipment purchases and the like, but you were keen to learn. You knew it would be a question of cash and possibly looking to get buy-in from a partner, but you had ideas, and Bradley was only too keen to hear them. 

Bradley had been so encouraging for you to expand. He was so happy for you and knew how well you could bring this idea to life. He mentioned adding a studio to the big back room that was just taking up old, mouldy pool stuff that really needed to be disposed of. “Do up the floors, don’t quote me on this as I say it because I’m probably saying it wrong, but a barre?” he frowned. “You could get all the rosé-drinking moms in for a song. Or maybe just put in a bar and let the wasps get liquored up while their kids learn to swim?”

Standing in the midst of moving boxes, everything was so close now. Tomorrow, the removalists were going to come and pack up your little apartment for you to start your lives together in that old Bradshaw place. The apartment was a bit of a disaster and Bradley's need for neat starting to grate him a little. You'd dragged your feet a little, for a small apartment, and you had a lot of stuff, you protested - nik naks from travelling that you weren't quite ready to relinquish just yet but you'd be pushed tomorrow, whether either of you liked it or not.

Your laughter was interrupted by Bradley’s phone ringing. “That sounds incredibly unsafe, but I don’t hate it…” you admitted from behind your Mac. Pintrest was far more exciting than boxing up your shit, that was for sure! He winked and said it was work, he’d take it in the other room. 

Grunting, before straightening and answering, “Cyclone, sir,” he said, meandering into the bedroom and closing the door after him. You were always a little turned on when he was suddenly Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. Your goofy man had some distinctive personalities but that one you like... a lot. 

With another slight setback with his recovery, while his body felt fine, CT scans still showed some minor trauma that doctors were concerned about but were monitoring but happy for him to head back for some solid desk duty. Not as exciting for Bradley, he hated paperwork as it was but he'd take what he could get.

“Love, can we talk for a moment?” Bradley asked, reappearing a while later. You had closed your Mac and were packing some books into one of the many, many-made boxes Bradley had put together with the greatest of ease.

“’Course,” you said and grinned. “Please distract me from packing any way you see fit,” you tossed a book without thought into the box you were concentrating on with a thud and wriggled your brows, hopefully, he’d take the subtle hint. You felt kind of insatiable and Bradley would never knock you back. He gave a weak chuckle and he sat next to you, taking your hand and not meeting your eyes.

“My leave was extended.”

You frowned and also kind of smiled, the confusion evident all over your face. “But you just got medical clearance to return to desk duties next week...”

“Yeah, that was the initial plan,” he nodded, a grim look shrouding his handsome features. 

“Bradley,” it was a statement, not a question. “What’s going on?”

He looked at you, and for the first time in weeks, his face was open. “I’m being stood down.”

“What, why?” you sat up as he slumped a little. You watched him rub his jaw, a trait of when he was nervous. You’d seen it a lot lately. 

“Technically, I'll be on disciplinary leave with pay. I need to sit before a panel of superiors to determine if I… fuck, I can’t believe I’m actually saying this,” he told you and chewed his lower lip. He inhaled sharply and you could see the confusion masking his features.

“Bradley.” 

He looked up and prepared to tell you the whole story, knowing it could well hurt his career further… but his relationship more. “I haven’t told you the whole story of what happened.”

“No,” you agreed, he certainly had gone out of his way to deflect any time he could when it came to his unceremonious return. “You’ve been pretty good at leaving out the little details…”

“Problem is some details aren’t little. I need to tell you everything so you understand," he said softly.

“More than ‘uranium suicide mission’?” you asked him, timidly. "Because yeah. That was a bit fucking terrifying."  

He nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, baby,” he acknowledged, knowing the worst was to come. “All of this wasn’t from just a carrier crash. The injuries, I mean. There were landing gear issues, but not from my jet. I was shot down after I left the squad to go back for Mav. I disobeyed direct orders multiple times, including from Mav himself.”

You remained silent. This was absolutely nothing like you were expecting. "I don't get it."

He said your name stone cold sober. “I knew what I was doing when I went back to help Mav. I ran outta flares in the dogfight – ”

“Dogfight, what?” you shook your head, disbelief washing over you. He’d seen real action? “Bradley, can you please start from the beginning? None of this is making sense …”

He nodded solemnly. “Love, we had two minutes and 30 seconds to make it to target and destroy the facility. Low, we had to avoid SAMs. But I was in my head the whole time, I was letting the team down. I was thinking about how dad died, that I probably wasn’t coming back to you…” he raised his eyes. “I froze. I'm probably lucky I didn't get me, or Payback and Fanboy, blown outta the sky in those first moments because I was so distracted from the job.” 

He let go of your hand to brush his longer waves through his sweaty palm, but you remained quiet, dumbstruck, words were no longer on your tongue. 

“I snapped the fuck out of it, just trying to remember that I would come back to you at any cost. And when Maverick made the first drop on target, it was incredible. But Fanboy had a laser malfunction, so I had to go and thank fuckin’ Christ I made that shot because if you asked me to do it ever again? I know there is no way I’d ever be able to.”

“I don’t feel like I’m in my body right now…” you said, stone-cold sober, your heart was racing – or maybe your heart had slowed. You weren’t sure. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this.”

“I know, love and I should never have kept this from you.”

“But you’re not done…”

He shook his head. “Nope. 9.5G climb out of the canyons, we had to try and avoid G-lock, slamming into mountains and SAMs again.”

“This sounds like something you see in a movie, not something you’ve been through, Bradley. God, I wish I didn't understand any of this," the tears welling in your eyes telling him the story.

“There ain’t no budget for this, love. Enemy jets were scrambled and – ”

“It was a dogfight,” you whispered.

“It was a dogfight. I did all I could, and then I was outta flares. Mav put himself between my plane and the enemy… and he was shot down. I made a judgement call and went to find him. I went back to look for Mav. That’s about the only thing I can’t explain. My brain couldn’t compute what would happen."

You laughed incredulously. “Bradley, it wasn’t like you were going to just be able to land your plane, pick little Mav up and sit him on your lap to bring him back to the boat,” you laughed even louder. The story was so ridiclous in your mind, but when he remained sober, you stopped laughing. “What?”

"You’re right, I couldn’t land my jet, pick Mav up and just head back to the boat…” he swallowed. “In a way, I suppose I knew I was probably going to die that day. The rest is so strange, I can’t get my brain to...” he added softly. “I can’t process it.”

"Tell me everything," he heard the gentle demand in your voice and what could he do?

He nodded. “Dropping blind, target achieved, sustained G’s. Smoke in the air, I was defending as best I could. SAMs on my six. It was fuckin’ chaos. I ran out of flares and Dagger One – Mav – was hit. I was ordered not to engage. I was requested back to the carrier by Command… Phoenix, Bob screaming at me. And I still went back. I defied direct orders and flew further back into enemy territory to find Mav. 

“He was in the middle of God-knows-where. A snow-covered forest. I shot down a chopper to try and save him… and my plane was hit by a SAM as a result,” And he was quiet for a moment as you watched the grief that shrouded his face and while it devastated you… it only made you feel empty and confused. “I knew what I was doing – going back for Mav – he’s my family."

“You found Mav behind enemy lines,” you mumbled. You were numb.

“Yes.” 

He watched as you wiped away the tears that he caused, and another kind of devastation washed over him. “Then what?”

“Mav found me. He berated the fuck out of me for coming back for him. I wish I could say I was making it up, what happened next... We found an F-14 in a hangar, and I guess all the gods were on our side, because how that piece of shit could take off on a crated runway, even with Mav piloting, still keeps me up at night.”

He watched as your tired face tried to take in his words. He moved to crouch before you, his strong palms wrapping around your calves. Your eyes followed him, but they didn’t appear to see him. “This is the most bullshit I’ve ever heard. I’ve never heard a story go to such ridiculous lengths,” you bubbled up a laugh as he remained stoic. 

Stoic but maybe hurt. “I’ve never been so scared in my life,” he confided quietly. “I honestly don’t know how I’m sitting here with you right now,” he said, his eyes welling. “I’ve never seen action like that in my entire time in the Navy. Mav said since he hadn’t either. These enemy jets, fifth-gen, they’re just unlike anything anyone has seen – ”

“So, the official story of you, singular, crashing onto the carrier was just some bullshit to get me to go to sleep each night?” you asked, voice flat. He nodded, numbly. “You crashed the F-14, with you as Mav’s passenger.”

“Yes.”

“You lied.”

“I lied because I had to. To protect you.” 

The way you raised your eyes to him told him that it may have protected him before, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to protect him now. “You need to tell me everything. I don’t give a flying fuck if the CIA has this place bugged, but if you don’t start being honest with me… we have a real problem on our hands.”

“I will tell you everything, love and I’m sorry that I didn’t do it sooner… I just – I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“You left every piece of the puzzle out that made the difference. I thought your jet had a fucking landing gear failure! But now it all makes perfect sense…” your words stung to say aloud as you pushed his scalding palms off your skin. 

“It’s not like that – ”

“It’s exactly like that,” you moved to stand, you needed to get away from him and he stood too. 

He said your name. “Please.”

“Please what?” you sniped. “Please get my head around this immediately to make you feel better about thinking you’re protecting me? Do you not know who you’re talking to? This is my blood too, Bradley. I get how this bullshit works – trust me, I wish I didn’t… but I get it.” 

“I know you do and that’s why I couldn’t tell you,” he said evenly. “I feel terrible that I’ve kept this from you.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry you feel bad that you had to keep this from me and it ended up hurting you," you voice was laced in childish sarcasm

He remained silent as you clipped him harshly. But you were just tired. Wholeheartedly could lay in your bed and sleep for a year and it wouldn't make you feel any less exhausted.

You took in the boxes around you, your small little apartment ready to be moved tomorrow into the big Bradshaw house and it dawned on you that you were nowhere near finished. There were mere hours left and you silently stood to start taking the photos off your wall. Finding the bubble wrap as your mute boyfriend watched.

Not a word was said but he sighed and started to help you.

"Just be careful with the photos, they mean something to me," you muttered as he nodded gently.

"I'll be gentle," he promised, reaching for the photo of you and his mother first. It meant the most to him, it was probably the most special photo he'd seen that didn't belong to him. He'd already earmarked a place in the bedroom where it would reside... right on his bedside table. He couldn't lob it in with the other frames and silently walked it to his keys and sunglasses. He'd take it with him personally. "Do you want some water or something?"

"No."

"Okay," he said softly. He didn't really want anything either and continued to help you considerately take the photos from the wall and wrap them, the box marked FRAMES in his scrawl in loud red marker.

Bradley had walked out about half an hour earlier. You couldn't blame him; the apartment was a war zone and he had enough PTSD for the both of you. It was a fight, destruction was all around you and you still had so much to say, but the fate of tomorrow wearing you down as you struggled to pack.

"I'm back," he said a while later, quiet and lethargic. And you'd normally ask what he'd been up to, but you just couldn't be bothered; and honestly, you simply didn't care. Your brain was working overtime, his confession had...

It had rattled you. It had destroyed you. You felt betrayed, alone, and lied to was the tip of the iceberg.

"I got some food," he sighed at your lack of reply, stepping into the kitchen and carefully taking the spoons from your palms and putting them on the bench. "Have some food, huh?" he offered, taking a seat beside you on the floor and pressing a kiss into your temple. You allowed it but showed absolutely no reciprocation.

And it hurt his heart because he knew what was happening here. He was witnessing you shut down before his eyes and it was terrifying.

"Do you want some pad thai?" he asked through the blood pumping through his ears. You barely shook your head, just stared before you. "I know I hurt you."

"Nope, I don't think you know how you've hurt me."

"I lied to you," he said simply.

"For weeks I've walked around on eggshells around you while you battled with whatever was going on in your head," you said so evenly it unnerved him. "The crash, Mav, not letting me be there for you. I feel like a no-one to you."

Dropping the container in his hand, Bradley moved to his knees and grasped your jaw softly in his rough palms. "You are everything, love."

"Bradley..."

"Love?"

You raised your eyes to him. "If you weren't going to trial, would you have told me any of this?" It was all you really needed to know and from his place before you in the cramped, messy kitchen, he dropped his gaze.

"Probably not, no."

It stung. It stung horribly. "Okay," was all you could say.

"I would have kept up the lie to protect you and I'd probably do it again if I needed to."

"You know my deal breakers since day one, Bradley," you were so small. You were so hurt.

He nodded, sitting back down on his heels. He didn't feel much like eating now either. He watched you put your head in your hands and God if you were crying, he would hate himself more than he already did.

So Bradley did all that felt right. He continued packing around you. He didn't know what else to give you at that moment. And he was sure as shit that if he laid a hand on you... you'd probably push him away further.

"I'm so angry at you," you said a little while later. Bradley had taken up a spot in the living room, collecting various ornaments and items and he could be the first to admit he was relieved to hear your voice for the first time in hours.

"I know, love. I'm angry at me too," he admitted, sitting on the armrest of the couch. Both were equally spent, it was like you'd gone 12 rounds and there was clearly no winner. “We’re not doing so well, kid."

"We're in a bad spot," it was the first time you'd agreed the whole night.

"What do you need for me to make this right?" he asked low.

"I dunno," you told him. "I never thought I could feel like this."

And what was worst for Bradley was that it was because of him.

You rubbed your face, you were so tired and struggling between the boxes in the kitchen - the place where you spent most of your time together. And you cursed the amount of shit you'd collated over the years to move into what Bradley probably had one of as well and threw a pot back in the cupboard with a crash. You'd been in relative silence since

“You chose Mav over us, Bradley. And it almost killed you,” the evenness in your voice, not the slightest waiver of emotion, scared you. The anger that was bubbling under the surface was all that was driving you and that scared you more.

He remained silent. 

“You made me one promise, Rooster,” you reminded him and Jesus if he hated when you called him that. He was your Bradley. The way you had disconnected from him so quickly was frightening. 

“I know, I don’t need reminding, from you, Mav, or the fucking Navy that I did the wrong thing,” Bradley muttered. “I saved his life.” But he said it was only him who needed convincing.

“You almost killed yourself in the process.”

Silence again. That pit that Bradley could have always done better was pulsating in your brain and it was clouding everything else.

“You don’t love me,” you accused quietly. “You were going to leave me. Willingly die for Mav.” 

The way Bradley's face contorted as he bit back the venom on his tongue. He'd never felt so insulted. You could have said anything else to him, but questioning how he felt for you just seemed to go beyond the line. Especially when he'd never given you a reason to ever question his devotion to you.

“All I fucking thought about was you,” he hissed your name repeatedly until you met his gaze. “Don’t you get it? I know I fucked up. I know you’re betrayed and hurt. But I know if it was me, Mav would have done the same thing.”

“Of course, he’s got 20 years of grief to amend for,” you replied, sourly though pointed. "I'd expect it from him."

God, your whip of the tongue never seemed to amaze him. “Don’t you dare say another word,” Bradley told you in a tone you’d never heard of but froze you to your bones. He needed to shut you up.

He silenced you, and you were relieved, you finally got it all out. Said what had been on your chest since he told you what really happened in the air that day.

“You love doing that, being everyone’s saviour. Mine, Mav’s and anyone else that comes along.”

“Watch yourself.”

“You just can't help yourself.”

He was so close to exploding. “Yeah, and I fucking would do it all again,” Bradley almost yelled, his blood pressure rising. “Don’t you get it? This isn’t about you and me. You’ll never understand the history Mav and I have.”

“Well, no, I only know what you tell me and all of that seemed pretty fucking horrible. How else did you want me to react? This was your narrative, I just stupidly believed it.” 

He crossed the maze of boxes steadfast and pulled you into his arms before you had another chance to recoil. “I love you, please understand that. I want to be with you,” he whispered in your ear.

"And?" you said, cold as ice.

“Please tell me you still love me," he said and you almost felt sorry for him. You looked up at him, his eyes telling the story. The fear of what he’d been through, what you were going through together, and what that could mean…

“That’s the problem. I think I love you too much.”

“That will never be a problem for me,” he confided. “Ever.” 

“Maybe not... but I gotta love me too, Bradley.” 

He kissed your hair. “Love…” he raised your eyes to his, kissing you. “I know you’re protecting yourself because you’re scared – ”

“I’m scared that you almost died, and it can happen every time you leave me. Not just deployments, every single time you get into your jet. I’ve never lost anyone the way you did… but I almost did and worse, because it was you. And that’s fucking terrifying.”

“I know, baby. But I’m here,” he tried to protest. 

“You were reckless."

"I know - "

"I can’t trust you, Bradley."

He kissed you again, so softly. “Please do not question my loyalty. It’s the only thing I know for sure.” 

You waited a bit but your final stand was so close. “Well, you got a father figure back out of it at least even if it was at my expense.”

Bradley only made a sound. The shock was palpable.

“Well, you don’t think this is a deal breaker for me?”

“What are you talking about, who are you? Do I even know you?”

“I am never going to be jealous of the Navy, it has pretty much destroyed any trust I have in men… and giving you a chance was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done,” you accused yourself, more so him. It was all coming so full circle and you knew Bradley was seeing the writing on the wall. 

“You’re the dirtiest fucking fighter I’ve ever met,” he said quietly.

“No one else is going to protect me, Bradley, so I have to.”

“No, you want to be left at arm’s length and pick and choose when you want to be loved.”

“I’ve never been desperate for it.”

“No,” He agreed. “Definitely not,” he sniped. “Only when you choose.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you rolled your eyes. 

"What? You can go below the belt, but am I just to stand here and take it? You're full of shit, baby. I ain't taking this without a fight."

"I don't have any fight left. I've been fighting with myself since you got home. Trying to figure out how to be all you need and want and it hasn't been enough. You've gone through a trauma that you wouldn't share with me and expected me to just be okay with it all as you pushed me away, and used me as you felt fair to you? And that I'd be fine because your job called you out on it and the truth had to come out sometime?"

"Please - " Bradley begged. “Don’t do this. Don't talk like this, love…” 

“I’m going to take some time and see if this is really what is best for us… for me. I can't move in tomorrow. I'm sorry."

Standing and trying not to wince, he asked, “Who says you get the fucking choice?” 

“You know why I do. You need me more than I’ll ever need you.”

He laughed incredulously, whipping his hand through his mussed curls. “That is the biggest pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard. I took care of myself just fine since everyone left me. In fact, you’re right, I was doing a fuckload better without you. Maybe I don’t need you.”

“But you do. And you’re getting angry because of how true that is.”

“You’re a real piece of work, huh?” he sniped, going to the liquor shelf and pouring himself a glass that he tossed back in a couple of gulps. 

“Don’t do that, it’ll mess up your pain meds,” you warned. 

“You don’t get a say on how badly I continue to fuck up my life, okay? Not tonight," he casually reminded you. "You've lost that privilege."

“I can’t bear to see you get hurt, why don’t you understand that?” 

“All over it,” he muttered, pouring a second glass. “You’re articulating yourself incredibly well,” he enunciated. "You should be very proud of yourself."

“Bradley, please – ”

“Don’t fucking tell me what you think is best for me,” he hissed as you raised your hands, taking a step back. “You want to break us like that,” he snapped his fingers and slammed the thick-bottomed tumbler on the bench. “Not me. I came back, just like I always promised I would. I’m standing here before you, watching while you destroy us. Because you cannot be satisfied. Nothing makes you happy; it’s why you run. It’s no big secret.” 

“Bradley, please.”

“Bradley, please, what?” he fired back incredulously. “I love you, I don’t want to break up. But I’ve learned more about you and how your fight tonight than I ever thought possible. If you don’t want to be with me, say it, so I can just go,” he added the last part sadly. 

“I am scared I’m going to lose you anyway,” you said admitted. 

“Well, you’ve pushed me so far away from you, I dunno what else you want now. You can’t go back on a lot that you’ve said.” 

You nodded solemnly. He was right. 

“And you certainly can’t take it back,” he said finally. 

You met his eyes, and his rejection was palpable. But you didn’t want to take it back. “I’m sorry I can’t be what you need.”

He sighed, rubbing his tired, his oh so tired eyes. The problem was… you were everything he needed and it still wasn’t enough. “Is there any way we can get past this?” he asked finally, and you met his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” and when you sighed. He knew. You both knew.

There wasn’t. Everything was irrevocably broken and to get back to a place you were side-by-side? Neither of you could see it.

"Okay," Bradley said in finality because honestly, he had nothing else to say and no one else would understand what a car crash tonight had turned into as he grabbed his car keys. The silence had swallowed you both and there was no coming back from it. “Well, I guess I’m gonna take off,” Bradley said, the words so strange on his lips and you nodded because what else was there now?

The box of Bradley's stuff you’d boxed up was gone about a week later with his apartment key was left in its place on the bench. It all seemed so final; you couldn’t believe how you’d let something so good slip away from you but you’d both broken your promises. You’d both seen to the end of this beautiful thing. You both deserved so much better… and maybe it was with someone else.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

And the biggest thank you for @gretagerwigsmuse for taking the time to read, review and be the most best constructive friend assisting with this chap x

[lemmebe7]

Buy the super skinny and sturdy organic sanitary pad, specially made for Teen menstruators at an affordable price. Enjoy a rash-free day with Lemme Be Teen Day Pads!

[katsukichu]

𝐎𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬 - 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐱 𝐠𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Re-upload in honor of Katsuki's birthday🥰. This is my fav prompt piece the lovely @sukisangel helped me write🥺. 18 + Characters are aged up.

Being a hero has its pros and cons.Staying in hotels,being able to work in a team with your UA colleagues and spending extra time with your boyfriend – Dynamight.

It also meant patrolling the whole day in the scorching weather,fighting villains while trying not to cause too much property damage and trying to reassure the public that everything was under control.

After an exhausting day of patrol you made your way to your shared hotel room.It was way past Katsuki's bedtime and you expected him to be asleep.You opened the door to see Katsuki sitting on the edge of the bed - removing his gauntlets,which made you assume that he also took the latest patrol time slot just like you.

His hero costume is roughed up,face covered in scratches,dirt and dried blood.Your first instinct soon clicks in,quick to attend to all his wounds. Ignoring your own exhaustion,you close the door,before grabbing the first aid kit and making your way towards him.

After dating Katsuki for so long you were able to pick up on any change in his behaviour.You've always watched for small changes in his demeanour - such as his facial expression or body language.You could tell he'd been put through the wringer today but you were more than happy to help him blow off some of his post-patrol steam.

"Hi there, my baby." you cooed, brushing his hair away from his eyes and placing a small kiss at the top of his forehead.He tries to hide the way the corner of his lips gently tugged upwards to form a smile with a huff, grumbling something as a way of greeting you.You take a cotton pad and dab some antiseptic on it.

"S'gonna burn…" you warn him.

"I know.. and I don't need you to do it" he scoffs, trying to take the cotton away from your hands – which he successfully accomplishes.

"Please? Lemme take care of you." you whispered, gently cupping his face in your hands as your thumb softly caressed the skin under his eyes.

He knows arguing with you is futile and he's too tired to fight back for once so he agrees – giving you the white fluffy material back. He hates to admit it, but he loves how thoughtful and caring you are towards him, even when he’s not being the ideal sweet boyfriend to you.

You hold the pad up and he gives you a small nod, signifying that you can start cleaning his lesions. You gently wipe his face and study it for any sign of discomfort – his nose scrunching up every now and then.

You take a few steps back to study his battered outfit, soon dropping to your knees – only to take off his belt and lower his pants a little, just to give you more space to dress the wounds on his abdomen. Bakugou's breathing hitch when your hands brush along his inner thigh, causing a wave of heat to travel through the blonde’s body.

"You okay? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" you panic, furrowing your brows a little as you look up at him with pure concern in your eyes.

"No. No,it's nothing, dumbass…" he dismisses you, turning his head to the side as a faint shade of red coats his cheekbones.

Somethings wrong, you sense - Katsuki doesn’t tend to act this way. You finish unbuckling his utility belt, letting it fall to the floor with a thud. Your eyes trail to his thighs, searching for any more wounds, only to notice that he's bouncing his leg.

You gently place your hands on top of it and he stops. After applying the antiseptic on his stomach wounds, he starts getting fidgety again. You stop and place your hands up on his shoulders, making him look at you.

"Okay, Kat. What's wrong, really?" you question with a raised eyebrow.

"It's just… You look so good on your knees like that..'' he admits, placing his right hand on your cheek, lightly brushing his thumb against your soft skin.

"Oh,Katsuki!" you exclaim as a chuckle escapes your throat, playfully slapping his thigh – making sure not to hit too hard or anywhere where he's hurt.

"You need to take a shower. Your injuries are bad and a bit deep, you need to let your muscles relax...Plus, we aren’t home, what if they hear- "

“It’s just us, everyone else has gone to bed… a little thrill doesn’t hurt anyone, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” he cuts you off, pure venom in his words as he teases you and smirks.

"Fine…” You sigh, giving into his wishes knowing damn well that he wouldn’t give up on this fight. “...but I want to take care of you.You don't have to do anything, just sit there and look pretty." you spoke softly, looking up at him with an innocent mask on your face as you placed your hands on his thighs.

"I'm so proud of you for how hard you worked today,Dynamight." you spoke while adjusting your position on the floor.You toss the first aid kit aside, before looking up again as your chest swells with pride from making Bakugou's flustered.

Before Katsuki can respond, you unbutton his pants and slide down his muscular legs – letting it pool around his ankles. He shuffles his feet until they're off and kicks them aside.

Seeing the outline of his clothed cock and the patch of pre on his boxers made you clench your thighs.You try and ease some of the tension in his muscles and gently massage his legs with your fingers. You place soft kisses along the outline of his muscles and inner thighs. Resting your head on top of one of his toned thighs, palming him through the thin material of his boxers. You smirk when you feel his hips bucking into your warm touch.

"C'mon, pretty baby… ahh fuck..please" Bakugou curses, placing his hands on your nape

"Okay, but only ‘cause you asked so nicely. Good boy.." you praise as you tug on the waistband of his Dynamight themed boxers to let his throbbing cock spring free.

The sight makes your mouth water, causing you to lick your lips as you stifle back a moan. Everything about Bakugou is mesmerising -- from his vermillion eyes to his gorgeous scarred body, sculpted by a Greek god. His cock is no exception. He has an impressive girth,a perfect curve that always hits the right spots and prominent veins that run all along his shaft. He has the cutest happy trail and a fairly neat bush at his base.

Using the tip of your tongue you tease him by slowly licking the veins along his shaft – stopping momentarily to kiss his pretty pink tip.You make sure his cock is properly lubed up with a mixture of his pre and your saliva, before cupping your hand to give him a few teasing pumps while the other moves to tease his balls.

You feel Bakugou's strong hand on the back of your head slowly move down to cup your cheek. His thumb gently brushes your cheek again and he uses his index finger to tilt your chin up. You keep eye contact with him as you swirl your tongue around his tip – taking a moment to appreciate the blissful expression on his face and notice how tight he's gripping the edge of the mattress.

"No teasing… please.. ‘m not gonna last long" he begs as he jerks his hips up in an attempt to thrust deeper into your mouth.

You take a deep breath and try to prepare yourself to take his cock down your throat. No matter how many times you've had sex with him you can never truly adjust to his size. He always leaves you with an aching jaw by the end of each scene.

Bakugou lets out a few shaky breaths and the most sinful moan when you finally start bobbing your head up and down his aching cock. You flatten your tongue out and try taking as much of him as you can. The right hand that was once pumping him length, now stroked the rest that didn’t fit inside your small mouth.

Above you, Bakugou becomes a whimpering mess. His tongue is lolled out, eye-cross and drooling slightly as he's overwhelmed with pleasure, causing his hands to grip the sheets even tighter. Every time you gag around his dick he prays that he isn't going to cum quickly but he can't help especially when he has the prettiest vixen going down on him, doing wonders.

"Fuck.. Fuck.. Y/n, I'm gonna.. Haaah" Before Bakugou can finish his sentence, he cums, filling your mouth to the brim. You swallow before any of it dribbles down your chin and go to waste, then finally letting go of Bakugou's cock with a lewd pop.

As you and Bakugou try to catch your breath, you start thinking about taking a shower to wash away all the accumulated filth from work.. You glance back up at Bakugou and examine his injuries again. His chest is heaving and his eyelids seem to drop. He notices you staring and you realise you must have a rather dishevelled appearance as him.

"Come on, stop staring. I told you that we need to shower and take care of your injuries" you scolded him as you rolled your eyes and got up from the floor – causing your knees to slightly wobble.

“I really don’t care, ya look hot and ‘m trynna not to fuck ya senseless right now, sweetheart” He smirks, gripping your hips with both hands and tugging you towards him before you had the chance to escape.

Taglist

@buzzyboi79 @0lissa0 @nishikina @bakugosgorl @bakugosbratx @minninugget @aomi04 @dabis0bitch @bakubabeyy @keisurou @hannas16 @namjoonswifeyy @neko-loogi @stormcloudsbrewing @nymphoheretic @gently-folded-paper-cranes

Based on the prompts

"It's just… You look so good on your knees like that..''.

It’s just us, everyone else has gone to bed….

“I really don’t care, ya look hot and ‘m trynna not to fuck ya senseless right now, sweetheart”

[mvrtaiswriting]

Omg hi. First of all, congrats on hitting 1k followers! That’s amazing 😍😍 your writing is really great, so it’s definitely deserved!

I would love to participate in your 1000 follower event :3 with the prompt “stop squirming.” character: zoro/ace please 🤭

If that prompt has already been picked then lemme know and I’ll choose another one 👀

This event is really cool btw ❤️ I hope you get lots of participants and your blog grows even more! Take care :D

Ace x Prompt 1 (taking care of a lover's injury) - "stop squirming."

hii my dear <3 thanks for the support, I truly adore you!! i just knew you were doing when you chose Ace... how could I not pick him?!! HE IS MY BABY😭 also this is very shot but i hope it meets your expectations! i enjoyed writing it so much so thank you again for trusting me with this!

gender neutral reader | mention of needles | fluff | 559 words.

reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated ♡ if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee. -> from this event.

“Stop squirming.”

You scolded him, pressing the cotton pad against his wound.

"It burns."

Ace pouted, hissing as the rubbing alcohol touched the exposed flesh on his arm.

"Should be used to it."

You remarked sarcastically, sighing at his reaction and continuing your medication. Ace clicked his tongue in annoyance, trying to stay as still as possible as you stitched up his deep cut. He kept quiet as he observed you meticulously sewed him up - he loved the little frown that formed on your face whenever you were concentrating, the delicacy of your hands as you twisted the needle and thread so quickly yet so smoothly, making the whole thing almost painless.

This was your thing - Ace would visit your office almost daily. He had discharged Marco from being his doctor and appointed you instead - and since then, you had to deal with Ace always knocking on your door for the slightest of symptoms. Of course, most of the times you also had to deal with the consequences of his recklessness - always ending up taking care of him and the injuries he covered himself in. At one point, you almost doubted he did it on purpose - how could someone so powerful be so clumsy? How could the Fire Fist always end up with a bad injury even when battling the weakest of his opponents?

Yet, there was something so horribly romantic about spending your afternoons taking care of him. What started as a way to distract him from the pain of medical procedures became an excuse to share your deepest secrets. Laying on your medical bed, he told you about his troublesome childhood and of that time Whitebeard saved his life. And so did you - hiding before your surgical mask, you told him of why you chose to become both a doctor and a pirate. Every band-aid on Ace's skin marked a confession, transforming a consult for a runny nose into knowing each other better, your bodies forced to remain only a few millimetres away from one another. It probably wasn't the most ethical of thoughts for a doctor to have, but you couldn't help but stare at the door of your medical office waiting for Ace to burst in, asking you to fix him up.

"All done. You'll feel like new in a day or two."

You smiled, taking off your gloves. Still observing the bandage applied to his shoulder, you made sure everything was tight enough. You hadn't realised how close Ace was until your lifted your face. His eyes were piercing through yours as he bit his bottom lip, your noses almost brushing against each other.

"Y'know what could make me feel better?" Ace whispered, a cunning smirk slowly forming on his lips. Raising your eyebrow in response, a small laugh escaped your lips. Ace was clever, witty, irresistible - and it had you wrapped around his finger. Letting his hand slip on your cheek, he gently pulled you closer to him - finally pressing your lips against yours. A smirk appeared on Ace's lips once again as you urgently reciprocated the kiss, slowly reaching him on the medical bed he was sitting on. His strong arms were quick to wrap around your body, lifting you up and putting your figure over his.

"Oh, I have an idea or two."

[raccoonfallsharder]

kiss me at midnight preview [est 1/13]

borealis: year two | navigation | fanfiction masterlist MDNI | no use of y/n | f!reader | oneshot | word count: pending.

five years' worth of midnights. preview below.

literally COUNTLESS warnings below (both sexual & emotional) for this lengthy, angsty one-shot. happy endings only here, of course. i figured it had been too long since the last time i wrote a story involving a vibrator i guess (here's looking at you, blackmail material).

C’mon, pretty thing. The words had been strained. Show me how you like to be touched. So I got a good idea when I come over there. 

You’d slipped one hand down over your belly — cheeks heating when you’d found the cottony material of your panties already damp. Two fingers had skated over the soft wet cleft between your thighs, warm and waiting. They’d skimmed your folds — parted you through the cotton. Your clit had nudged needily against the cloth, and you’d circled the pads of your fingers against yourself: teeth pinned to glossy lower lip, eyelashes fluttering as you’d rubbed yourself through the texture of the fabric. You don’t do anything else for yourself, princess? Your eyes had opened, already glazed.  You don’t take those pretty tits out?  He’d sounded almost — concerned. Offended, on your breasts’ behalf. Your fingers had stuttered to a stop. Sorry— You’d broken off, flustered: humiliation suddenly overtaking that golden-edged spiral of confidence. I haven’t — uhm. No-one’s ever watched me, before. His eyes had burned brighter. S’that right. It had been more of a statement than a question. He’d plucked at the edge of your mattress. Let me up then, princess? Want a front row seat. The heat in your chest and belly had licked higher and hotter, wrapping around every limb. Yeah, you’d whispered, round-eyed as he’d leapt nimbly onto the mattress. He’d been at your side before you could blink: claws prickling up your calf and thigh, followed by something so soft and silken — and unexpected — that you’d jumped, unable to hold back a little squeak. His snicker had lit up the space between you like matches and tongues of flame.  Just the tail, he’d crooned, just a shade too smug to be soothing. The feathery thing had swept along your hip again: teasing the hem of your panties, following the elastic around to tickle the crease where your ass-cheek met your thigh. You’d shuddered, wriggling with the ripple of sensation that had teased up your spine. That okay?  God, yes,you’d spilled shakily, and his snicker had broken into something full-throated: maybe the first real laugh of the night, untouched by bitterness or sorrow. The sound had surprised you both, and he’d reeled back: wide eyes meeting wide eyes.  Whatever had been ignited when he’d first sat beside you at the bar, it had suddenly reached the point of complete conflagration. Every cell in your body had abruptly seemed alight: thirty-trillion tiny torches, each one burning hotter than the last. You’d shivered from the force of it, reaching for him even as he’d lunged into the open crux of your thighs. His mouth had been at the juncture of your shoulder and throat, teeth pressed into your skin just firmly enough to hold you — deft quick fingers sliding swiftly under bra straps, skating leathery calluses over the arches of your shoulders. 

Lemme get this stupid thing off, he’d muttered against your throat, and you’d nodded frantically and shot both your arms in the air when his hands had dipped down  past your flanks and swam across your scapulae. His limited armspan had him crushed against you — ricocheting heartbeats separated only by the two thin layers of cloth and the thick pelt of fur between your chests. You’d hiccuped on a gasp when he’d rasped his tongue against the top of your breasts where they’d been squeezed and plumped against his strange jumpsuit, and his hands had made quick work of the clasp over your spine. Then he’d stepped back — flimsy brassiere already gone — and your tits had bounced with the sudden return of gravity. The way it had felt — the way he’d looked at them, like he’d wanted to sink his teeth into your flesh — had brought a moan tripping out over your lips before you’d been able to call it back. He hadn’t paused, though: just anchored his hands in the soft secret hollows behind your knees, stepped back, and pulled. You’d squeaked again as you’d been hauled down onto your back — felt his smirk as much as you’d seen the flash of his teeth in the dark. Your breasts had bounced again, wobbling with the movement, but you’d been more caught on the sensation of his small warm palms already sliding up the outsides of your thighs, splayed thumbs and forefingers hooking into the sides of your panties. The cotton had clung as he’d peeled them off your legs, so brisk and quick and competent that you’d barely been aware of what had been happening.  Show me, princess. Lemme see. Another sharp flash of his canines. You don’t gotta worry about giving me a show — just don’t rush yourself the way it looks like you normally do. Take your time — play with your pretty self. I’ll help. I’m a quick learner.  Cheeks and throat and chest all glowing with heat, you’d fumbled one hand between your thighs: pressed fingers to your clit, showed him how you’d rub and stroke circles against yourself. His eyes had been so scalding and scorching, you’d wondered if he’d leave burnmarks: little glossy red kisses left behind by fallen firework-embers. Your thighs had trembled — more from his calculating stare than the work of your own hands. Keep going. Can I play with these beautiful frickin’ tits while you work?  You’d panted out something like a yes only to immediately shiver under the light touch of his curious fingers, stroking featherlight across the soft, stiffened tips of your nipples. He’d prickled his claws along the sensitive curves underneath and watched you shiver, grin getting wider every time you’d trembled under the silken roll of his furred knuckles across your nipples, or the muffled squeaks and whines that came with every soft pluck or mean pinch. The coil of heat in your belly had been so tight that your jaw clenched and strained with the effort of holding back.  One warm leather-soft palm had coasted against your chin, fingers gripping delicately and turning your bleary eyes toward his.  You hold back all your pretty noises when you’re doing this to yourself? He had sounded so disappointed. You’d rushed to explain. Thin walls, you’d gasped. Don’t want — the neighbors complaining— His brow had furrowed. Just for me, then? he’d asked, and you’d seen the mischief curl the corner of his mouth. Just tonight? Wanna hear you sing for me, princess. Then the mean clever fingers of his other hand had pinched, and you’d cried out, long and needy.  That’s my girl.  Your fingers had stuttered and faltered till he’d let you go — breasts bouncing freely again. He’d clicked his tongue.  Think I’m getting the hang of it now. Lemme try?

read more: coming monday, january 13.

CONTEXT: mcu-based. takes place during the snap.

WARNINGS: lots of angst (with a happy ending). everybody is lonely, grieving, depressed, and needs a hug (and/or orgasms). hurt/comfort all around. mention of double parent-death (aneurysm and fatal illness) and shitty friends. dom/sub vibes (rocket likes to boss you around), dirty talk ad infinitum. praise, mild degradation (use of "slut"/"whore," affectionate). voyeurism/exhibitionism, masturbation with audience participation (the audience is rocket), overstim. body worship, tiny bit of fellatio, cunnilingus, use of sex-toys (vibrator and grinder), cock-warming. orgasm delay, light/brief mention of assplay, torn lingerie. extensive use of pet-names, like princess (also ad infinitum) and sweetheart and pretty thing. sweet sex, too.

coming to ⋆⊰∙∘⋆❆borealis: year two❆⋆∘∙⊱⋆ on january 13! borealis: year one | winter headcanons | navigation | fanfiction m.list

candle divider by @/firefly-graphics | gold hourglass divider by @/sweetmelodygraphics | ivory support & mdni banners by @/cafekitsune

[frannyzooey]

Those arms 👀 Those palms rubbing his eyes 🥺 Definitely need a drabble 😌

Weeknights Frankie x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

"Oh my god, I didn't think he would ever go to sleep," Frankie groans, letting himself fall back onto the couch.

"Him, or her?" you ask, joining him. "I think I read her like, four books or something."

"These dang kids." The statement is said quietly, laced with affection with his arm still thrown over his eyes and you smile, scooting closer to him on the couch.

"Getting too old for it, baby?"

He moves his arm, looking over at you. "Yea, I am." He says it seriously, following it with a quick grin and you lean in for a kiss. It starts as a chaste one, one meant to convey a wordless thank you for putting the baby down tonight, but his lips linger on yours for a fraction longer.

You break the kiss, pulling back with raised eyebrows and his eyes are hooded - both with exhaustion and emerging interest. He reaches for you, cupping your cheek to pull you back towards him.

"Where you going, baby?" he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours. "I'm not done yet."

"I don't know," you reply softly, meeting his mouth again, again. "I thought maybe you might be too tired or something."

"I'm never too tired for you." His voice has a husky rasp to it, his body shifting to guide you back down against the cushions and he follows you, settling his weight between your thighs. His mouth immediately seeks yours out, his hand reaching down to curl around the bend of your knee, tugging it higher on his hip. It then shifts upwards, spanning the side of your torso, sliding up, up, up until he palms your breast, playing with the peak of it through your shirt and bra.

His thumb catches against the nub, and he circles it slowly over and over. Until it pebbles through the cotton, until you're aching into his touch.

"This okay?" he breathes, his mouth moving to the line of your neck as his hand still teases. He knows you're more sensitive after the baby, sometimes touched out but you nod quickly, covering his large hand with your smaller one.

"Yea, it feels good."

He leaves it, moving to slide his hand underneath the hem of your shirt and when the warm weight of it settles over your breast after he tugs the cup of your bra down, you moan softly, bringing his mouth back to yours.

You are tired and so is he, but you can't stop kissing each other. Your bodies move as one on the couch, low sounds of contentment, of savor to match your higher pitched sighs and soon the shirt and bra are off, and his mouth has replaced his hand. He teases your nipple with his tongue, a mirror of what he usually does between your legs.

"We should go into the bedroom," you sigh, your fingers threading through his soft, dark curls and he hums, his tongue laving a stripe over your sweet skin. He latches onto your nipple, and you hiss in pleasure, your thumb fitting into the hollow of his whiskered cheek.

He pulls back to answer you, his eyes staying on the glistening, wet flesh of your breast. "I want to, but I'm scared to walk past their bedroom doors....what if they wake up?"

You laugh and he remains serious, which makes you laugh even harder. He eventually smiles, his dimple deep in his cheek.

"I'm serious, baby," he grins. "It took me so long, I had to sit and rock him for ages and he kept fussing and --"

You press your hand over his mouth, stopping him and he kisses the pads of your fingers, giving the crease of them a little lick. You giggle under him, and you see the edges of his eyes crinkle with a smile.

"Come on," he coaxes, leaning his face away from your hand to bend his head back down. His lips press delicate against the plane of your chest, against the swell of your breast, brushing against your collarbone. He breathes his next words warm into your ear.

"Just lemme eat your pussy on the couch, okay? Then I'll take you to bed."

You close your eyes with a frown, taking in a shaky breath and he gives you another kiss on the edge of your jaw, another just below your ear. He looks down at you for consent, his dark brown eyes with their beautiful, long lashes waiting.

You nod, and he grins, shifting slowly down.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Mob and innocent reader you say? Lemme bring back mob Curtis and his new wifey he got himself because she crashed her car into his.

Last we know is that they're married. Do they already have a kid on the way?

Your fingers deftly tugged on the dark blue dress shirt, pulling it taut against your belly to expose the bump that’s become through the soft cotton material that you stole from Curtis’ closet. Your suspicions that you might be pregnant had come from the shift in your emotions and the soreness of your body as it had gone through changes that had at first been unrecognizable to you. It wasn’t your first instinct to take a test or see a doctor, and when you had begun to gain a little weight you’d imagined that it was due to you having food security now that you were with Curtis.

Your relationship with your ex-boyfriend had been a struggle, as most people’s were this day and age, with rent, insurance, car payments and food taking any extra funds you could have had. While the two of you hadn’t inherently gone without having something to eat, the choices weren’t always the best and given your boyfriend’s status as an unemployed prick, the weight to provide was yours to bear.

Until Curtis had come along, that was.

When he had stolen you from that life, he had given you the privilege of being able to have everything you’d ever wanted and more. It was that sudden privilege that made it possible for you to miss a possible sign of pregnancy. And when your breasts started to get more sensitive, when you had gotten sudden aversions to your favourite foods and couldn’t keep anything down, you had decided to take a test.

The test had taken a matter of minutes, confirming a possibility you’d never thought of. And after the test was taken and it was confirmed, you’d immediately wrapped the test in toilet paper and then into the plastic cover of a pad, tucking both into the garbage that was due to be taken out that afternoon. You had gotten rid of the evidence in order to buy yourself time to think and to plan.

You didn’t know what Curtis wanted, what he expected in his life. You hadn’t thought to ask if he had ever wanted kids or whether he had certain expectations about his legacy, and you weren’t going to approach him until it was absolutely necessary.

That test was taken three weeks ago, the decision to try and hide your pregnancy had led you to this point in the bathroom where you were gazing at yourself in the mirror. The bump was small and round, small enough to be hidden behind your clothes although lately you wanted to steal Curtis’ clothes as they brought you more comfort than your own, and truly was some kind of acceptance to your new life and your engagement to Curtis.

You heard him before you saw him. You heard his footsteps and the crinkle of a few bags in his hands that brushed against each other before he set them down somewhere, and without having to say a word he had found you. He entered the bathroom and stepped behind you, immediately resting his hands upon yours and leaned in to brush his lips against your neck, whispering your name airily.

You leaned back against his chest and angled your head, exposing your neck to give him more access. His hands were moving yours against your belly, his shirt wrinkled and crumpled. There was little said between you and Curtis, little spoken while he had felt your baby bump and kissed a trail up and down your neck as he marked your flesh as his. The world had faded to nothing, leaving everything behind until it was you and him alone in the bathroom.

“I got you something,” Curtis had finally muttered in your ear, drawing you back from the counter and the bathroom mirror to the bed, and further to the bags set upon the mattress, “something for our baby.”

“Are you sure..?” The weeks between you first taking the test to now were filled with questions about what he wanted, even as he had told you time and time again that he wanted this.

Before responding, Curtis had dropped to the floor and spread your legs, his hands hooked around your thighs to keep them apart. He looked up at you with illicit intent in his eyes and a smirk on his face that was sending heat straight to the apex between your thighs. You had inhaled sharply when you first felt his breath upon the inside of your thighs, and another shudder running down your spine when the tip of his nose touched you.

“Let me show you how excited I am about this.”