#the shoe with the toothpick through it

[outsockk]

blue addison made spaghetti

[hellishjoel]

wild like the west

3.3k / pairing: cowboy!joel miller x cowgirl!reader

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summary: joel and his cowgirl warnings/information:  MA 18+ (minors DNI), implied but unspecified age gap, joel is technically reader's boss (so power dynamic stuff), swearing, dirty talk, pet names (baby girl, brat, etc.), unprotected p in v, pussy pronouns, asphyxiation kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, clean up on aisle reader's stomach, reader is described having hair but otherwise (I believe) reader is a blank slate, no use of y/n, barely edited A/N: I unfortunately have not stopped thinking about a game joel miller x yellowstone crossover, and I feel like he would like this to be his long, happy life. I also haven't written for joel since may which feels like a sin! sorry baby!

It doesn’t matter how many ass bruises you get, or the pain of repeated thrashes to your knees from getting bucked off; this unruly horse will bend its spirit to your will. 

Half the job of purchasing new horses for the Miller Ridge Ranch is breaking them in like a pair of new shoes. 

Any cowboy, or for you, cowgirl, knows that a horse can sense your personality and fear from a mile away. If you sprout fear, it won’t trust you to be the guide on its back. It’s a mutual thing to trust one another. It’s the trust Joel thrust upon you after loyally working at the ranch for a handful of years. Sure, you were young, but you had a good head on your shoulders.

He perches his cowboy boot on the low fence rail, teeth gnawing at a toothpick as he watches you with careful eyes. The morning dew settles over the long grass and tall trees, untouched by man, fostered by nature. With the sun clawing at the horizon, the land turns from a pale blue to a beaming orange glow.  It’s beautiful here, peaceful. You imagine this is the life that Joel always wanted, craved. He’s not from around here, he’s got too much Southern twang to be from these northern Montana woods. 

Life guided him up here and he never turned back. 

You can feel the horse grow agitated under your haunches, whinnying with anxiety as it takes a few rough steps backward in the ground-up dirt. 

“S’okay, boy, take it easy, easy,” you coo in a gentle voice that lets the horse breathe through its panic. You grip the colt’s mane at the very base of his neck, right by the horn of your saddle, gently scratching that sweet spot that seems to bring him some tranquility.

You’re the only one who seems to calm these beautiful boys. 

“You got a habit of gettin’ in’ta trouble before it even knows to start lookin’ for ya.” Joel’s southern drawl rumbles deep from his chest, stepping into the training ring and crooking his first two fingers in your direction. 

“I got it, Joel,” you say insistently, guiding the horse by a little squeeze of your boots to its belly in Joel’s direction. 

“Know ya do.” Joel stops at the horse’s chest and pats its neck, large and calloused hand stroking down its coarse mane as he stares up at you, squinting from the morning sunlight. 

His eyes are starkly brilliant in this light, typically a dark brown, now a glowy amber under the brim of his black cowboy hat. “You know that part of learnin’ how to be a cowboy is lettin’ them break in their own horse. Hop down.”

A sigh leaves your parted lips as you unhook one boot from the stirrups and throw yourself off. Taking the reigns, you walk with Joel back to the main fence. 

“You’re too nice to ‘em. I hired you to be a bit more…” He pauses indefinitely, tilting his head.

“Ruthless. I know.” Your eyes connect, both hardened after years of this long life. One day of being a cowboy felt like a year at any other job. 

The plan was plain and simple, a route you’d taken a hundred times with a crew that changed on and off for the past couple of years. The cattle were in need of fresh resources, lush grass to graze on, and streams of pristine crystal water. Up through the valley they’d go. 

The cowboys and cowgirls were gathered on their horses, Joel sat atop his beautiful black mare, eyes piercing his crew even behind his tinted sunglasses. Any season besides summer in this state demanded thick, warm work wear. Joel adorned a chocolate brown Carhartt and thick denim jeans under old, worn-out brown chaps. 

“I want Wyatt and Jack to take front, Bo and Sadie, swing, Jess and June on the flank, Tucker and Sammy on the drag. Wear your bandanas, it’s gonna get dusty back there,” your eyes flick up to a string of confused faces, “any questions?” 

“Why do we have to go through the valley? We’d have to push hundreds of cows through open water,” Bo mutters, disdain for a woman making all these choices for him, perhaps. 

“Yeah, n’I can’t swim. Never learned.” Another pipes in. 

“Then you’re a goddamn idiot,” old man Wyatt gurgles up a chuckle. Wyatt has been a cowboy longer than you have been alive. He raised you up to be tough with a streak of kindness that could never be washed away. He gives you a tight nod of reassurance as you sigh weakly. 

All this tomfoolery seems to be a bit much for Joel’s taste. “She’s takin’ questions about the plan, not your ‘pinions on it. I tell her what to do, she tells ya’ll what to do. You question her, you question me. So do as she says, or you answer to me.”

Joel’s always had a tight hand on the crew. He intimidates them. He is their boss, after all. They have a problem with you or this ranch or anyone else, they answer to him. Joel takes off his sunglasses and narrows his eyes on Bo, the newest cowboy with a pretty big mouth on him who bucks just as bad as your new colts. And his dead eyes are set on you. 

The rest of the crew sets off towards the direction of the cattle herd, everyone except Bo. 

Your head jerks upward in his direction, your own eyes narrowed. “You wanna say somethin’?” You ride alongside Bo, who seems to be wrestling with his stupid thoughts. But before he gets a chance to say anything, Joel intervenes. 

“Got a fight in you? It starts an’ ends with me.”

Bo looks between both of you, simply scoffing before he backs his horse off and trots along towards the crew. 

The view from the top of the valley is beautiful, all yellow and golden, with a pale blue sky and tall trees that harbor the secrets of the forest. Joel used to tell you it would whisper to him, warn him. Your chestnut-colored horse stands tall next to Joel’s, and both of you are overseeing the herd and the crew working together. 

“Not as bad as I thought this was gonna be,” Joel mutters, turning his head in your direction. You’re unrecognizably quiet. He’s never known you to be so still. 

He watches as your fingers anxiously twirl your horse’s mane. “You undermine me in front of them, and they don’t respect me, Joel.” 

So that’s what got you so stiff. He takes in a deep breath of mountain air, crossing his wrists over the horn of his saddle and glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye. Your hair blows in the wind, gentle and flowing. Almost graceful if it wasn’t in this wild west. Your beauty was city beauty, he was surprised you ever found your way out here. 

“Bo’s as green as grass. He needs to learn not t’talk to you like that. And if he needs to learn from me, so be it.”

Keeping your lips zipped, your eyes scan the points that use the dogs to guide the herd in the right direction. The swings and flanks work the mid to back-mid to maintain movement, and the drags stationed at the back ensure that any loose stragglers keep up. 

Joel rolls his eyes and sighs, reaching his hand across to your horse’s reigns, keeping your horse tucked to his side. 

“C’mon, Cowgirl. Spit it out.” 

“You go about defendin’ me, it looks like we’re sleepin’ together,” you gripe, “and I don’t need our crew slingin’ the slander that I got my job fuckin’ the boss. I don’t want that shit, Joel.”

Joel shifts his jaw from side to side, silent as he usually is. His tongue muscles over the right words, the words that will settle that ball of uncertainty you have nestled in your gut. 

He settles on the truth. 

“We are sleepin’ together.” 

Shaking your head, you steal your reigns back from Joel and gently nuzzle your boots against the horse’s underbelly. “Well, maybe that should end.” 

Joel watches on with a small smirk as your horse is set in motion down the grassy hill. He shouts loud enough for his voice to carry down from the high ground. “You set those boys straight, or I’ll have to keep doin’ it for ya.”

You sling back your middle finger in his direction, both of your horses riding side by side now as you follow the crew through to the valley. 

Joel sighs upon entering his large, private cabin, resting his cowboy hat to air out on a hook by the front door. His clothes wreak of his musky sweat, and the shower calls his name. He walks stiffly. Joel’s thick thigh muscles are as strong as iron from riding his horse, and his back cracks each time he inhales.

But he can’t deny that this life was made for him. 

Training to be a carpenter, earning pennies on the dollar to work in the hot Texas sun, and for what? Building someone else’s dream property? He had his own dreams. 

The ranch was his dream.

He always had a profound appreciation for nature and the outdoors. 

Fuck the city, fuck car horns honking obnoxiously, fuck the traffic. He found more fulfillment in listening to the wind flutter through the trees and would much rather hear the moos of his cattle than impatient commuters at six in the morning. 

Plus, he’s never felt more free or independent. This was his land, and he made the decisions on how it was run. Hiring the sassy cowgirl from the metropolis just happened to be a nice bonus on lonely nights when there wasn’t much left to his whiskey bottle, and the ride into town was more than twenty minutes for a new one. She sated him all the same, better, even.  

Despite years of riding and wrangling, you’re so fucking soft. You have soft eyes, a pretty voice, and satiny thighs. Your lips are plush against his weathered ones, and you don’t seem to mind sitting in his lap with his rougher-than-barbwire hands feeling over your body. 

But in turn, you’ve made a little soft spot in his wild like the west heart of his. And he swore he’d never settle down; you seem to have the same intentions. 

Things were easy. Nice and easy. Almost routine. 

The bunkhouse would be busy with cowboys and cowgirls playing card games, drinking their beers, singing to the music on the radio, and talking nonsense. You’d slip out after dark and wind up upstairs in his bed. 

He recalls you saying something about how his bed is more comfy than the ones in the bunkhouse. 

“Whatever you say, darlin’.” 

Tonight was no different. Fresh from his shower with a towel secured low on his waist, he hums curiously at the sight of you sprawled out across his bed. No more than a minute later, you are tugging it loose from his frame and letting it pool around his ankles. 

“Thought you said you were done,” Joel muses with a hint of teasing. You sit up from the bed on your knees and wrap your arms around his broad trap and shoulder muscles. 

“I ain’t a quitter,” you mutter against Joel’s mouth, feeling his tongue glide along yours as he explores you freely. 

He sheds your clothes, feeling your freshly showered skin and hair under his rough palms. He can’t help but touch you like you’re his, like he owns you. But no man can possess the wind. 

You kiss as he slips you under the bed’s cool sheets, drunk on the way you move so pliantly under his guidance. His lips move to the slope of your neck, his greying whiskers scratching your skin before he washes over the irritation with more kisses. 

Joel’s hands slip between your legs, cupping your clothed center in one hand. Your eyes light up at the friction, mewling up a moan of his name as he massages over the wet spot growing on your panties. 

“She’s already soaked, darlin’. You been thinkin’ ‘bout this?” Joel muses, sitting up properly to peel your shirt off your body, two fingers curling around the hem of your panties and chucking them mindlessly on the floor. 

“Joel,” you whisper breathlessly as he’s about to slip down between those pretty legs of yours. 

“What?” He asks, damn near annoyed. 

“I can’t wait,” you beg breathlessly, his eyes meeting yours. “I-I can’t, I’m beggin’ you, please. It’s been a long day.” 

Joel sighs but ultimately nods. It’s not what he wants, but sometimes you both need a quick fix. 

Joel’s body parts your legs, a grunt escaping the depth of his throat as he ruts his hips against your own. 

“Good idea,” he mutters against your mouth, leaning down and distracting himself with your kisses as he lines his length up and down your soaking center. 

You sharply inhale as he enters and the sound is music to his ears. He feels your nails carving into his back muscles as he sinks himself in deeper deeper deeper, both of you panting with eagerness by the time his hips are flush with your own, lost in where you end and he begins.

You let out a string of moans as he reels himself back, only to return to your depths with a snap of his hips that releases a shrill whine of his name from your throat. His forearms are buried in the fluff of the pillows on either side of your head, forehead against forehead, his hips grinding against you now. 

The friction is enough to make your head spin. You can feel the coarse hair of his happy trail tickling your already anxious pearl. 

“Fuck,” you huff out, letting your hands slip down his back, knowing that if you want him to pick up the pace, you’ll have to ignite his fire. In one quick movement, your hands drag themselves up Joel’s back, your nails creating etched lines that raise red once you finish at the very tops of his shoulders. 

Joel releases a long, low groan in response as his eyes snap open to meet yours. The sting of pain creates heat along Joel’s spine. His jaw is wound tight as he brings his large hand to wrap around your pretty throat, thumb on your chin to force you into staring straight at him. 

“Such a goddamn brat,” he growls, adding pressure to the column of your throat as he begins to pound into you harder and harder with each thrust of his hips. You cry out his name, a cacophony of your panting moans and your slick squelching against his hips fill your ears. The ecstasy of losing just a smidge of air is enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

He’s obsessed with the way your eyes gloss over in lust, your body jerking up the bed with each powerful thrust he gives you. Your mouth hangs open, gasping for air that’s just out of your reach. 

“You take it, baby girl, you keep takin’ it. She’s so fuckin’- goddamit, so fuckin’ good for me,” he pants, feeling the warm air dissolve against your skin as Joel begins to swell fatter inside of you. 

Perfectly slick and warm, he loses himself in your pussy. You squeeze and choke him, his orgasm only building as you whimper how good he feels. 

“Holy fuck, Joel, please please please, right there, ohmygod you’re gonna make me-” you gasp, your back arching off the mattress as you grip onto his forearm that’s still holding your delicate throat, your other hand gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. He knows to squeeze a little harder as you fall apart, the euphoria of the combination sending you over the edge. 

Joel’s holding on for dear life, always focused on putting you first, always trying to prove your jokes of him being an old man wrong. But he can’t deny he’s nearly finished twice now, your pretty cunt all nice and warm for him. 

What’s wrong with pushing you over the edge a little?

Joel abandons the hold on your throat as you still are witnessing the aftershocks of your orgasm, his two thick fingers circling over your swollen clit. 

Joel smirks as your eyes snap open, your jaw dropping wide as you silently scream in pleasure. He nods sadistically, smirking as he overstimulates your already twitchy clit.

“You’re gonna give me another, right here, right now,” Joel grunts, stilling his hips as he’s buried to the hilt inside you, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as your gasps and strangled moans fill the room. 

“Fuck, Joel I don’t think I can,” you cry out, bracing the wrist of the hand that’s still working figure-eights around your pearl. Joel watches as your chest rises and falls quickly, nipples at peaks as you continue to clench repeatedly around his cock. 

 “Know you can, baby, cum on this cock again. You’re a strong cowgirl, ain’t’cha? You been thinkin’ ‘bout this all day, getting this pretty girl drilled by me, know ya have.”

And he’s right. Shamefully so. Denying Joel looks good in and out of his cowboy attire is just nonsense. The way he rides his horse with his thighs snagged tight around its middle, gnawing on his toothpicks to ward off the need to smoke a cigarette or chew; at this point, it’s everything that he does that turns you on. 

And maybe that’s why it’s so easy to give him a second one. 

Your nails pierce into his skin as your hands grip his biceps, mewling and moaning something wrecked, feeling the warmth gather deep in your belly once more. 

“Keep fuckin’ me, I didn’t say to stop,” you pant.

Joel disguises his laughter by meeting your lips with his own, giving you messy kisses that taste better than perfect ones. His hips and fingers work in tandem to force you over the edge. You’re shaking under him, your thigh muscles twitching with excitement, legs wrapping around his middle as he grows closer to his own finish. 

Just as he feels like he’s going to give way, he can feel your pussy clenching around his aching cock, his tip brushing so perfectly against that spongy spot that sets your insides alight. 

“Fuck,” he grits, ripping himself loose of your perfectly wasted cunt as he yanks over his length. One, two, three more times, and he’s spilling warm spend across your belly. The pretty splatters are like a Jackson Pollock. He stares in awe at how pretty you look getting finished on. 

The bed dips as he falls into place beside you. He doesn’t lay idle. He reaches for some tissues from his bedside table, politely wiping away his mess as you stare at him with lustful eyes. You were so fucked out. Sorta cute. 

“Quit,” he mutters, avoiding your eyes. 

“You ain’t as old as I thought you were.” You whisper, a smirk tugging on the corners of your mouth. 

Joel chuckles softly at your familiar tease. He's heard it countless times, but it never ceases to make him roll his eyes and pull you closer to him. He kisses your forehead affectionately, his voice carrying a hint of playful banter.

“You gonna keep remindin' me about my age every chance you get? Don’t stop ya from comin’ back each night.”

You lay your head on his chest and listen to his heart thump. 

Joel’s got one arm slung around your shoulders, the other on your thigh that’s draped across his middle. His strong hand works slowly into your tired muscles. You play with the greying curls on his chest, taking note of the dark, nearly black ones still speckled throughout. 

“Goodnight, old cowboy.” You say, patting his chest, hearing his slow laughter rumble from his chest. 

“G’night, pain in my ass.” 

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[shycoconutt]

It seems when it comes to Nanami Kento, your body has a mind of its own.

Because here you are standing like an idiot, with a brown bag containing various warm pastries and a cup of black coffee, alone in his office in the early hours of the morning, feeling like you’ve fought and won many battles but are currently losing the war.

The war that was once your past and now, to your dismay, is your present too.

The sun has just barely peaked over the mountains, a warm orange glow cascading through the windows of Jujutsu Tech. Placing your offerings on his large wooden desk, you can’t help the exaggerated sigh that escapes your lips.

What has gotten into you.

The entire walk from your apartment, to the bakery, then to work at 8 o’clock in the morning was spent mumbling and grumbling to yourself.

Whatever happened to keeping your distance? Standing your ground? Huh? So what if today’s his birthday? So you happen to know his order at his favorite bakery across town, who cares? Huh? Hello? Are you listening to me—

You probably have a red mark on your forehead from how many times you slapped yourself on the way over here.

Truth is, you know it’s dumb, but the thought of not one person wishing Kento a happy birthday or giving him a gift today makes your stomach hurt. He only just reinstated himself as a sorcerer a couple months ago, and it’s highly likely that no one else but you remembers the importance of this summer day.

Your face warms slightly thinking about teenage Kento and that stupid party hat Satoru forced him to wear for the duration of your class singing him happy birthday. He stood there like an emotionless toothpick. It was hilarious.

Smiling to yourself, you grab a pen and a single sheet from his notepad laid out on his desk and scribble a few words before leaving it there and exiting his office.

~

“Ino,” you yell from your seat on a bench at the sparing field, “you gotta keep your fists close to your chest in a defensive position when fighting. The reason you keep getting knocked over is because you’re leaving yourself wide open.”

With your arms outstretched over the back of the bench, you lift up your head to feel the warm sun rays on your face. It is a hot one today, and you somewhat regret telling your students that you would be working on combat outside all day.

Your decision came mostly because they need the practice, but partly because you know it’s easier to avoid Kento this way.

Five hours into the day, however, you know you have to give your students a break.

“Okay everyone,” you say, clapping your hands together, “why don’t you all take an hour for lunch and then meet back here. When you get back, each of you will take turns sparing with yours truly.”

You giggle at the mix of excited gasps and disappointed groans from your students. They know you won’t go easy on them, and that only excites a select few.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Though, to make up for it, I stashed some goodies in the fridge for you guys in the rec room…”

You blinked and your students were gone, only leaving a small trail of dust in their path. Feeling content in your solitude, you go back to basking in the sun, the soft noise of running water and chirping birds lulling you into a state of relaxation.

You about jump out of your own shoes when you hear someone softly clearing their throat behind you.

Looking over your shoulder, your eyes trail up the stone steps before you lock on a broad figure standing at the top of them, slicked back honey blonde hair threatening to tousle in the strong breeze.

“May I join you?”

No. Nope. Get lost.

“Uh, sure!”

Damn it.

Scooting over to one side of the bench to make room, you nervously fidget with your hands, suddenly very interested in the state of your cuticles.

In your peripheral, you notice he’s dressed lighter than usual. Instead of the tan suit, blue long sleeve dress shirt combo, he has on a pair of brown slacks with a linen tan short sleeve dress shirt. He looks really good.

Then again, he always looks good. Ever since his return, it was no surprise to you that his everyday wear was so formal. Nanami always had an affinity towards proper aesthetics. He holds himself at a higher standard than most and always feels morally obligated to do the right thing.

But, sometimes there is no right or wrong, sometimes the right choice for you is the wrong one for someone else, sometimes the right choice is the easier choice, the one that hurts less.

As he moves to sit next to you, you feel yourself hold your breath.

“The kids flew by me on the way here practically foaming at the mouths,” Nanami muses.

“Yeah, well, I bought them some candy and snacks from 7/11 this morning cause I walked past and knew I would be putting them through the wringer today. It’s honestly the least I could do. They’ll be hurting pretty good later.”

Nanami hums all-knowingly, smirking to himself.

“If memory serves me right, there were plenty of nights back in the day where I would have to take hours-long episome salt baths just to be able to fall asleep that night after a training session with you.”

You can’t help but smile and hum in amusement.

“You never were the best at hand-to-hand. However, once you started bringing blades and shit into the mix, I did often fear for my life.”

“I would have never hurt you, you know that,” Nanami scoffs.

“Yeah,” you pause, “at least with your blade anyway.”

You feel the air still around you. Nanami now leans himself back on the bench, lifting his hands behind him to support his head.

“Hm, I suppose I deserve that.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t…”

“However, what I do not deserve is your kindness,” Nanami states, staring at the field in front of him.

“Hm?”

“You bought me my favorite breakfast today, isn’t that correct?”

You turn to him now, feeling a warm blush rise to your cheeks.

“Yes.”

“And this is the most we’ve talked in a long time.”

“I suppose.”

“I half expected you to yell at me to go away.”

“I thought about it.”

Nanami smiles at this, turning to look at you for the first time, amber eyes looking down softly into yours.

“Thank you, darling. I loved it.”

The genuineness of his words swallow the world around you. You feel your heart lurch, and it’s painful.

Sitting here, so close to his form, you feel like you are two magnets. You wish you could just let go—let yourself give in. You want so badly to fly across the seat and have him absorb you. All of the empty parts of your soul are vacant because of him, and he could fill those crevices so easily, right where he once was so long ago.

You give him a sad smile, reaching your arm out, you bring the palm of your hand gently to his face, letting your thumb graze the skin of his cheek.

“You’re welcome, Kento.”

You allow yourself to touch him like this, but this is as far as you can go, at least for right now. Something you know he understands.

“Hey! Nanami is here!” Ino’s voice brings you out of your trance. You look up to see your students gathered together with all of the snacks, candy and drinks you got them in their hands. You quickly pull your hand away from Nanami so they don’t see.

You beam up at them.

“What are you guys doing back so soon?”

“Well we saw all the stuff you got us and decided it wouldn’t be right to eat all of it and not share some with you. You’re out here working hard too!”

“Aw, thanks you guys,” you smile, “Actually, you know what? This is perfect!”

Leaping up from your spot, you grab Nanami’s hand and gesture for him to stand up with you. He complies reluctantly.

“We can all share our spoils with our BIRTHDAY BOOOOOY!”

Nanami glares at you like you just told them his deepest, darkest secret. You give his hand a small squeeze before letting go, smiling up at him devilishly.

The kids are a blur as they gather around him, practically suffocating him with their enthusiasm. You watch as he battles any signs of joy as they jostle him around.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY NANAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!”

[serejae]

I CAN TRY BUT I CANT HIDE IT FROM YOU | J.WW

introvert wonwoo bf thoughts

for my wonwoo babies :), sorry for inactivity school started 😢

mentions of dress to impress 😏

even though wonwoo isnt good at cooking hes always making your lunches. HE HAS THOSE LUNCHABLES ON DECK. and trust hes snacking up your lunch box

^he never forgets to put a toothpick in there for you just incase (as someone with braces this makes my stomach have butterflies)

i believe he secretly had made a sims family of you and him with 2 kids and 3 pets. he even spent time making your dream home

speaking of gaming, i know whenever you both play scary games, hes always going first and risk his characters life to save yours. if you both were running from the monster hes behind you making sure youre is safe first

wonwoo doesnt care if seungcheol or jeonghan constantly clown him but he always WILL play dress to impress with you. he always votes your outfit 5 stars even if youre completely off theme or have only shoes and hair on

if you get hate on your outfit in the chat he doesnt defend you in the chat because hes just introvert. but, he will spam report the person until theyre kicked or banned

wonwoo is the type to always agree to you “the restaurant is an hour away baby…ROAD TRIP THEN!”, he always listens to your rants even if its the most randomest or boring thing he will stare at you with heart eyes as you speak and agree “yeah i cant believe she’d do that…”

adding onto the last one he will throw you under the bus to get out of situations. (i love introverts) he didnt wanna go to the after party? “sorry my partner just called, i gotta get home” or the “my partner said no, sorry” yes, you tweak a bit because what if your reputation is ruined but you know he’lll keep using it as an excuse T-T

he’ll do all the tiktok trends you want, you wanna kiss all over his face? YES! you wanna wanna do a small tiktok dance? YES! you wanna do a couple fit check with your matching outfits and creeper keychains? YES! and trust, while hes doing the tiktok dances he has a big smile on his face that make his glasses go up from his big cheeks whike smiling. and please. hes reposting it on all his apps.

in real life he already barely post selfies, but if you were his partner his social media is a you fan account, his profile picture is you, all his highlights covers are you and full of you, his post are all you, and his bio has you tagged

he BEGS you to match usernames in games and on discord like even if you dont play or use the app he’ll still keep it

LIKE PLSSLSLSL IMAGINE IT FOR ME

“ilovethemsomuch” is typing…

“canheleavemealone” sent you one notification

if hes a idol in this universe, he’ll go crazy on stage using his deep voice (we know…lalali…) then as soon as he sees you backstage hes running to hug you while bringing you guys to a corner to be alone as he mumbles sweet words “missed you baby” “lets go home and cuddle?” “im so lucky to have you”

hes the small spoon, he loves being big spoon but at night after all the protecting hes done for you, he just needs a little recharge with laying ontop of you while he hides his face in your neck as you run your hands through his hair

man is the definition of gentle love. cannot convice me other wise

in arguments, never argues back. just sits there allows you to speak, yell, get everything out your system and pays attention to you speaking so he can see what he needs to reassure, clear, and tell you

in big dinner parties, whether in a restaurant or house hes always sitting by you. in these big settings he never wants to leave your side, he holds your hand and plays with the promise ring he had gotten you

wonwoo loves it when you take off his glasses. he sometimes pretends to sleep so you can take off his glasses and kiss nose. you never told him but you slowly figured out when his cheeks redden each time

babe hes so obsessed with you. has your picture as his gaming pc lockscreen, homescreen, and even google screen. his password on everything is your birthday and if the members figure that out its your anniversary, and if they figure that one out, its the first time you two kissed

has your initials made with little gemstones of your favorite color on the side of his headphones and controller

has a polariod picture of you on his monitor, and on his desk

loves being the underdressed boyfriend when necessary. of course wont be underdressed all the time but he has his moments when youre shining and hes just…there…….(he loves you being the spotlight)

also loves it when you order for him, dont get him wrong, he’ll order for you no hesitation but sometimes his social battery runs low……

wonwoo i need

[kentophilia]

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 '𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞!

synopsis: the pleasant anniversary dinner with your husband has you dining between his legs later on.

contains: rimming, fellatio, fingering and prostate massage (male receiving), handjob with lots of lube, sub-ish atsuya, food and wine consumption, atsuya being a sexy ass man, footsies with his dick, established relationship, petnames (love, darling etc.), fem!reader (wears makeup, a dress and high heels), reader gets called 'woman' once; word count: 2.8k

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!!

minors, ageless and empty blogs will be blocked immediately!

ping!

the notification sound on your phone broke you out of your daze. it meant that atsuya was near to pick you up for your anniversary dinner.

you had dressed up in your (and your husband’s) favorite dress, its fabric hugging your figure in all the right places. you finished your makeup and put on your shoes and coat to wait for him by the door.

you had felt giddy the whole day, barely concentrating at work at the prospect of a nice dinner and possibly getting a little frisky, too. both you and your husband had been working a lot, barely finding time to spend with each other. both of you were constantly tired and your frustration grew to a point where you would have even sneak a little orgasm in during your lunch break.

so the anniversary dinner was the perfect opportunity to let off some steam afterwards. you knew that atsuya was also growing more impatient. his hands would be wandering a little more, gripping you a little tighter each morning, the goodbye kisses lingering for a little too long.

while you were waiting for your beloved, your mind started to wander. you had watched a few…. interesting videos in hopes of bringing those topics up with your husband and bringing a little more excitement into your dreary day-to-day life. maybe you’d be able to try something out today.

you were coaxed out of your thoughts by your husband's car turning into the driveway. he stepped out, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand. he walked over to you with a crooked smile, a toothpick between his teeth to soothe his oral fixation.

“happy anniversary, my love.”

his deep voice reached your ears and a smile spread over your face, cheeks burning and heart bursting.

taking the toothpick from his mouth, he leaned in to kiss you. his cologne was overtaking your senses. you wished you could just jump him right there and then and forfeit your evening plans, desire coursing through your veins. he pulled away too soon for your liking but you masked your disappointment, taking the flowers and inhaling their sweet scent.

atsuya offered his arm and guided you to the car, opening the passenger door for you. as you stepped in, your husband got a glimpse of what you were wearing underneath your dress, sucking in a deep breath.

he was in for a hell of a night.

the drive was short, his hand on your thigh warm and comforting. you filled the silence with some comfortable small talk until it was time to step out.

the restaurant atsuya had booked was stunning and on your to-go list for a long time. there was gentle jazz playing in the background as you were guided to your table.

as your eyes scanned through the menu, you felt your husband’s sharp gaze on you. you felt your face growing hot yet again. his ability to make you bashful with just a look was astounding.

“i already know what i’m gonna eat tonight,” he spoke, a smug grin playing on his face.

a giggle escaped your throat, your hand fanning yourself as you felt your whole body getting hotter.

“atsuya, we're in public!” you fake gasped, lightly swatting his hand that reached out to hold yours.

“and we're married, everyone knows what married people do! don’t act all shy on me now!”

your husband’s low laughter had your heart skipping a beat. you had truly missed him and couldn't wait to get your hands on him.

you ordered your food, along with two glasses of wine, your favorite. the waiter smiled at you both while taking your menus before turning and walking away.

“you look gorgeous, sweetheart.”

“you don't look too bad yourself,” you giggled.

atsuya was practically drooling over you. the dress was his favorite color on you, making your skin glow along with your makeup. his thumb gently rubbed over your knuckles, wedding bands glowing in the soft candlelight. you bashfully thanked him, squeezing his long fingers between yours.

dinner went by without a hassle, the food and wine were spectacular and everything you had imagined. the pair of you engaged in pleasant talk about your days, the gentle buzz of the wine slowly settling in.

as atsuya was telling you about a particularly annoying coworker of his, your heeled foot slowly slid up his leg. he raised an arched eyebrow but let you continue. he kept talking while your foot hiked up to his thigh and nudged itself between them. your husband sucked in a sharp breath, holding your foot against him as you tilted the ball of your foot towards his slowly growing erection.

truth to be told, he’s been half hard all day thinking about you. and it did not get better when he saw what you were wearing underneath your dress. he was trying so so hard not to think about just putting your ass on the restaurant table and taking you right then and there. but atsuya knew that both of you were in for a treat once home.

your shoe rubbed against him just right, giving him just enough friction to feel something but not enough to actually bring him to orgasm. you leaned forward onto your hand, your foot pressing just a bit more onto his clothed cock. atsuya swallowed a groan, his eyes fluttering shut just for a second.

“you were saying?” you mused, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you watched your husband try to compose himself.

“you’re driving me crazy, woman. weren't you the one acting all bashful about my comment earlier?” he chuckled, breathless with how you moved your foot against his leaking erection.

you giggled, sending your husband’s heart into overdrive. “and what about it? can't i have a little fun with you despite that?”

atsuya just shook his head with a grin, trying to hide his flushed face as he took another sip from his wine. his other hand still held your wiggling foot against him. he was relishing in the feeling and anticipation of finally being intimate with you again.

you opted out of dessert, naturally. atsuya paid, with no regard to the waiter giving you both a knowing look before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the car.

the air was buzzing on the ride home, with your husband trying to focus with your hand on his bulge.

as soon as the door to your house clicked shut, his hands and lips were on you. pulling him close by his collar, you barely made it out of your coats before his hands slipped under your dress and gave your butt a harsh squeeze.

you licked along his bottom lip and he moaned, granting you entrance. heavy breaths and spit were exchanged in your makeout session as your hands wandered over his chest and tummy down to his belt loops. you pulled your husband’s pelvis against yours, feeling his throbbing bulge against you.

a small string of spit connected your mouths when you pulled away, a grin playing on your lips.

“i wanna try something today, atsu. let’s take this to the bedroom, yeah?” you breathlessly asked. he just nodded, mind still hazy from the heated kisses you shared.

clothes were discarded in seconds and you pushed your husband onto the bed, the mattress dipping underneath his weight. you crawled on top of him, lingerie-clad ass right on his heavy cock. leaning down, you started kissing his neck, gently sucking and biting on the skin. just enough to leave a few marks.

you made your way down his body, occasionally nipping at his skin to make bruises blossom on it. you spent a bit more time on his nipples, knowing how sensitive they are. one bud was engulfed by your hot mouth while the other fell victim to your nimble fingers. they swelled a little under your ministrations, flushing the prettiest shade of pink.

atsuya’s sounds were heaven to your ears, the prettiest of whines falling from his lips. his brows were furrowed and eyes threatening to fall shut as you got lower and lower. so close, so close to where he needed you most.

as you kissed the tip of his cock, droplets of pre-cum started to roll down his length. atsuya whined, pleading for you to hurry up and suck him off. foreplay was both of your favorite bedroom activities and you planned to take your sweet, sweet time with it.

you licked along the twitching length of him, feeling it hot and heavy against your tongue. the teasing was almost too much for atsuya, he just wanted to be buried in you, feeling your walls clench around him. but he knew that with you, patience is a virtue and so he let you take your time.

when you finally wrapped your lips around him after a few more licks and kisses to his dick, he almost blacked out from the pleasure. his hips twitched upwards, making you gag slightly.

the tightening of your throat around his cock made him nearly bust right then and there. you pulled your mouth off, gasping for air before returning it to his length. you bobbed your head a few more times, your husband’s hand heavy on the back of your head. before long, you pulled away again, forcing a whine out of atsuya.

you reached into the bedside table, pulling out the small bottle of lube and squirting some onto your palm. you gave it a few seconds to warm up before engulfing your husband’s leaking cock in your hand.

his reaction was immediate and everything you had hoped for. his hips bucked up, his eyes screwed shut and a loud moan and a string of profanities left his swollen lips. your leftover spit paired with the lube made everything so wet and his cock so, so much more sensitive. he trashed and squirmed a little, the sensation almost too much for him. but your hand on his hip soothed him and he let you torture him for just a little bit longer.

as your hand continued to move up and down his length, your tongue traveled lower and lower. from the base of his cock to his heavy balls. but before you could reach where you wanted to be, atsuya’s panicked voice reached you.

“he-hey, hey, woah, what are you doing?” he whined, his voice climbing up a little.

you grinned, head between his thighs and your hand still jerking him off. his head fell back onto the mattress when your thumb pressed right underneath his tip.

“relax, love. i’ll make you feel good,” you murmured against the skin of his thigh.

he leaned up onto his elbows, his eyebrows furrowed as a low whine escaped his throat. you gave the swollen tip of his cock a kiss.

“do you trust me?”

atsuya loved eating ass. it was a regular practice when eating you out, his tongue would always find its way to your puckered hole. and you loved it as well, your orgasms so much more intense. his tongue playing with your ass, his thumb on your swollen clit and two of his fingers inside your throbbing cunt. it would have you coming in no time.

but having you between his cheeks was uncharted territory. he had never experienced this with anyone else before. it was taboo, unheard of – downright dirty – and never really crossed his mind (lies he would tell himself as his finger would sometimes slip inside his ass as he showered and pleasured himself).

but now that he was on a cloud of bliss, he wondered why he didn't do this sooner. yes, his finger was one thing and it was pleasurable and made him cum hard, sometimes to the point where he'd almost faint from the pleasure.

but your tongue, that only his cock was acquainted to so intimately up until now, felt heavenly against his hole. even better with your hand around his length, slick sounds and his high-pitched moans filling the bedroom. the stimulation on both ends was driving him crazy.

you could feel him twitch in your palm, pre-cum rolling down his length as he tried to keep himself from cumming too soon. the grip he had on the backs of his thigh was strong enough to bruise. your forehead was sticky with sweat, relishing in the high that came with reducing such a strong man like atsuya to nothing but whimpers.

the corners of your mouth twitched into a smirk, your tongue lapping and prodding at his hole. his cock had taken on a dark shade of red from the stimulation and how hard atsuya was trying not to cum.

“feeling good, handsome?” you teased, slowing down your hand on purpose.

he whined, his voice becoming hoarse from all the crying out he had done so far. “y-yeah, please, please don't stop! feels s’good,” he slurred, his whole body shaking in exertion. this position, legs in the air with just his rough hands keeping them up, was taking a toll on even a trained man such as him.

“as you wish,” you murmured, giving his ass cheek a kiss before switching your hands. a lubed up finger was now prodding at his hole, gently pushing past the tight ring of muscle. atsuya’s lips parted in a loud moan, his hips moving on their own accord.

his hole was practically sucking you in with his hips moving in small circles. you gently pushed in and out, now realizing that he had done this before (he would've denied it if you had asked). grinning to yourself, you got him used to the sensation of one finger with a few more thrusts before pushing in a second one.

your husband was drooling on himself, mind absolutely blank from the pleasure you were giving him. scissoring your fingers and pushing them in and out of his hole, you were searching for that one spot –

“oh fuck! right there, please, please!!” atsuya almost screamed at you, his muscles twitching and his cock leaking all over your hand.

found it.

you smirked, gently moving your fingers against his prostate. your teasing drove him crazy, he was so, so close.

he panted like a dog, his head peeking out between his spread legs. “please, darling, please let me cum!”

his begging and his whiny tone was going straight to your core, your underwear sticking almost uncomfortably to your cunt. you wanted to torture him just a bit longer but he's been so patient – so obedient – for you that you decided it was enough.

you pressed hard against his prostate, your other hand simultaneously speeding up against his cock. your wrists hurt, your fingers were starting to look like raisins but you didn't care. nothing mattered more than bringing your husband to ecstasy.

atsuya trashed against his own hold, against your hands bringing him so much delight. curses after curses were leaving his spit-slicked lips, his voice reaching higher in pitch. after just a few more movements against his cock and his prostate, he came undone in a series of unintelligible babbles.

spurt after spurt spilled out of his tip onto your hand and his stomach, seemingly never ending as you slowed down both of your hands to gently milk the last of his cum out of his spent body.

you gently pulled your fingers out of his clenching hole, making a low whine escape his throat. a dull ache settled into your knees and back as your body cooled down. you slowly straightened up into standing and went to get a towel from the bathroom. after washing your hands, you wet the towel and returned to your husband in the bedroom.

atsuya was laying starfish style on the bed, eyes closed and chest heaving. he opened one eye when he felt the bed dip under your weight. you leaned to press a gentle kiss against his forehead, murmuring praises into his sweaty skin. he sighed, the praise warming his cheeks. having the roles reversed for once felt nice. his lips quirked into a small smile and he quietly thanked you for taking such good care of him.

you carefully wiped down his tummy and between his butt cheeks. as you started cleaning up his softening length, he twitched from the stimulation and grabbed your wrist. a few deep breaths later, he let you clean him of his cum and you threw the soiled towel into the laundry basket.

you laid down beside atsuya, curling into his side. as you traced little figure eights on his cooling skin as his thumb caressed your shoulder. your husband’s head turned to you, a lopsided grin on his face.

“will you let me return the favor now, love?”

a/n: first repost! exciting exciting :3

networks: @houseofsolisoccasum @interstellar-inn

© kentophilia 2024 — all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, translate, modify or steal any of my works.

[mattslolita]

biker!matt teaching reader how to ride his motorcycle 🤭

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

"'alright doll, s'not so hard, jus' listen to what i tell you to do."

you nodded as you watched matt intently, his ringed hands moving to remove the leather jacket from around him — he shifts the toothpick in his mouth to the other side as he drapes his jacket around you. you put your arms through the sleeves, pulling the jacket tight on you as matt hums his approval.

"c'mere," he mumbles to you, grabbing your waist as he guides you towards his bike.

the shiny black motorized vehicle sits pretty and shiny before you, and you can't help but marvel at it ( as if you haven't seen it a million times ).

"now jus' get on," matt instructs you, and you nod.

a gulp rides down your throat as matt steadies you with one hand on your back whilst you throw one of your legs over the other side of the bike, then placing yourself on the designated seat. it feels weird to be the one in control of the bike as you put your hands on both handles immediately. the helmet that sits on the handle looks inviting, so you put it on quickly. matt's eyes rove around your body shamelessly, feeling an oncoming boner start to emerge upon seeing you about to ride his bike.

"doin' so good already," he praises you, tucking a braid behind your ear which causes you to giggle nervously as his breath fans over your neck, "now turn it on."

there's seemingly a double meaning behind his words, yet you pay no mind as you put the key in the ignition. it roars the life which startles you for a minute, but you quickly snap back into focus as you grin slightly.

without being told, matt watches in shock as you put the kickstand back in its place ( of course, you knew to do that from the many times you've watched him ), then you put the heels of your shoes on the padding.

"can i take off now?" you ask him, biting down on your lip with anticipation.

matt swirls the toothpick in his mouth before crossing his arms across his chest as he nods at you. "g'head doll, show me what ya got."

you didn't need to be told twice — you started off slow, the bike moving at a slow pace as you slightly press the throttle down with your right hand. as you get used to the pace, a sudden pride takes over you as you mash down on the throttle causing the bike to speed up.

you zip across the parking lot quickly, shocking you slightly as you let a grin spread across your face as you learn to control the bike. almost as quickly as you left, you came strolling up to matt who waits for you patiently — you put the kickstand up, and climb off the bike, taking the helmet off after.

"how did i do?" you ask matt, running a hand through your braids as he stares down at you hungrily.

"didn't know you ridin' my bike could turn me on so fuckin' much."

[onsunnyside]

.♡ ⃗ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 (𝟏/𝟓)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | best friend!JJ Maybank x reader (College AU)

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, friends-to-lovers, college au, non-canon ages, ‘lessons in love & pleasure’ trope, kook!reader, size difference, shy!reader, inexperienced & virgin!reader, clumsy!reader, cute first kisses.

♫ ·ﾟ𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥��𝐬𝐭

𝗪/𝗖 | 3.97K

𝗔/𝗡 | and here we go !! this is my first obx series, so pls wish me luck, also note that this is a college au, meaning all characters are 21+. this will be angst-free, just a fluffy fic about two friends falling in love, starring a charming blond surfer. i'd love to hear your thoughts about this so far. as always, all mistakes are my own. ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

˗ˏˋ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐎𝐁𝐗 (& 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬) 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The rays of the sun beam down, burning your heated face as you exit the building. Hurriedly stuffing your uniform in your bag, you rush down the stairs and toward the main campus. You weave between students, nearly tripping while anxiously checking the time on your phone. 

A few minutes late wasn’t that bad. You didn’t expect your professor to take the entire period given that it was the last day before spring break. It would’ve been more bearable if you had any friends in that class, but none of them showed. Perhaps you should’ve done the same and got a headstart on break too, or at least a full eight hours of sleep for the first time in months. 

Approaching the common area, the familiar sound of the fountain meets your ears amongst the chatter and laughter from your peers. 

Your eyes fall on a familiar blond, a toothpick between his teeth as he mindlessly scrolls through his cell phone. He stands out amongst the sea of plaid skirts, ties and blazers, wearing a backwards cap, cargo shorts and a tank top, his toned arms as sunkissed as ever. You call his name and break into a skip.

“If it isn’t the smartest gal I know…” You melt in his hold, that signature coastal citrusy scent washing over you like waves on a shore. After one final squeeze, he pulls away, his blue eyes flickering down to your feet. “And she still doesn’t remember to tie her damn shoes.”

“I was already running late, I couldn’t stop!” 

He rolls his eyes and drops to one knee, bringing your foot to the other, “yeah, and what would’ve happened if you tripped? Or got stuck in an escalator? Or tangled in some wild vines?” He asks, quickly tying both your laces. 

“Too late for one of those…” You pull up the hem of your dress, exposing the mismatched bandaids on both your knees. 

“Did you try to walk and chew gum at the same time?”

You huff, “actually, I got it while golfing. The tall grass is really misleading.” 

Your mother had scolded you for the grass stains on your new shoes, yet another pair just victim to your clumsiness, much like everything else you own. 

As expected, JJ’s mood sours at the mention of Figure 8. Years after that kegger incident, JJ was still very bitter towards anything Kook-related. He didn’t want to hear about Rafe and his crew and almost turned red at the mere mention of their names. He tolerated you, Sarah and Kie talking about Midsummers, and was absolutely zero help when you were discussing dresses and crowns. 

“Who was there?”

“Just my dad, Sarah and Mr. Cameron.” 

JJ hums, peering up at you through his lashes. “Anyone else?”

You cross your arms, “Rafe never comes if that’s what you’re asking. He’s too busy working for his dad, and is probably halfway across the world, sipping on Dom Pérignon by the beach.” 

“Yeah, I guess it’s not like he asked you to join him… again.”

A loud sigh falls from your lips, “That was one time! And he didn’t even ask, Mr. Cameron wanted me to check on him and make sure he wasn’t blowing profits on new bikes or drugs.” 

JJ drops it after that, he could say anything he wanted but that wouldn’t impact your relationship with the Camerons. Since your parents owned and operated the Island Club, and rich people liked other rich people. 

Your entire childhood was spent on Figure 8 alongside Sarah and the rest of the Kooks. You were grateful to live so comfortably, never having to worry about bills or losing electricity for days on end, but you’ve always envied the Pogues. Their freedom and exciting adventures were so different from the lonely box you were born in. 

With years of friendship between you and the rest of the Pogues, your mother still referred to them as ‘those kids from The Cut.’ 

Your father, on the other hand, had a soft spot for them—especially JJ because of their shared love for cars and motorbikes. There have been a few times that you’ve caught them messing around in the garage after JJ left for more snacks and drinks, practically abandoning you all by the pool for some grease and engines. 

Although he liked the blond boy, you know your father would disapprove of the many nights he’s sneaked through your window for a little sleepover. You were used to it now, sharing a bed with your best friend was a regular occurrence. It was platonic, even when you’d wake up in each other’s arms, tucked close. 

JJ’s morning voice never failed to make you all fuzzy inside. 

“Hello? Are you gonna get on or does the princess need help?” 

Ignoring his remark, you quickly straddle his bike and wince at the dull pain in your thigh, “I also got a nasty bruise that day—note to self, never try to retrieve golf balls from deceitful tall grass again.” 

He chuckles and twists around, “poor baby, want me to kiss it better?” 

As if the sun had solely focused on you, your whole body heats up, a warmth fluttering in your belly as your mind searches for a response. 

“I-I, uhm…oh, I—”

JJ laughs loud with a dimpled grin, “Why don’t you think about it and tell me later? We’re already running late and you know how Pope is with that.”

The Wreck is busy this time of day, every seat filled with college students and Tourons as waiters zoom from table to table. The delicious smell of seafood clouds the air and loud conversations drown out the radio. Sunshine pours from the windows, bathing the nautical decorations in an orange glow. Fishnets, brass ship wheels, and various hand-painted signs hang on the walls, strung up alongside fairy lights and ceiling fans. 

You and JJ beeline for your designated spot, the booth all the way in the corner of the restaurant. As suspected, everyone is already there apart from Kie, you side in next to Pope and exchange gleeful greetings. 

“And she lives! After that tumble at the golf course, I’m surprised you don’t have a cast or something.” Sarah snorts, the memory of you literally disappearing in the grass replaying in her head. “How’d your mom take it?”

You pout, “She was more concerned with my dirty clothes than my injuries,” and your bruised ego, “can you believe it?” 

You’re met with mumbles of ‘yes’ and ‘of course,’ everyone awfully aware of your mother’s obsession with the picture-perfect image. If she had it her way, she would dress you every day to show off that Kook status, she’d put you in pastel prints, ironed polos, and hand-shined shoes. A part of you knows that the only thing stopping her from dressing you like a doll was your clumsiness, a saving grace disguised as aches and bandaids. 

Her overbearing nature was also to blame for your timid heart, sometimes you were too scared to do any wrong that you wouldn’t do anything at all. Looming fear kept you in that box of solitude, unfulfilled expectations and thrills made you shrink away. As a child, you never had the confidence to speak up and often went with whatever your mother said, but that was until you met the Pogues. They helped you get out of your shell and introduced you to new experiences, they were the most patient and caring people you’ve met, and you wouldn’t trade their friendship for the world. 

Out of the corner of your eye, Sarah and John B exchange a few chaste kisses. You immediately turn away, jumping into a conversation about Kie’s whereabouts with Pope. 

“Her dad needed a hand, hopefully, she’ll be back with our food soon.” He answers and slides a glass in front of you, “she got this for you.” 

It was your favourite smoothie flavour. You don’t waste any time and take a long sip, the sweet berries melting on your tongue, a momentary distraction from feeling so different from your friends. 

Under your mother’s watchful eye, you never dared to step out of line and that has led you to being terribly inexperienced in everything dating-related. While your friends were partying and earning their stripes, you were watching from the sidelines and fumbling every opportunity that came your way. You tried to forget all those people who have pursued you, their texts unanswered and calls ignored. 

You shake away those thoughts, “Did any of you have class today?” 

Sarah flips her blond hair over her shoulder, “All my uniforms were in the wash, so it really wasn’t my fault. If private universities didn’t have mandatory uniforms… I still probably wouldn’t have gone.” 

You and Sarah went to the same campus, but your schedules were far different. You could barely remember your own, let alone keep track of hers too. 

Your gaze slowly shifts from each of their faces, “even you, Pope?”

“In my defence, I’m way ahead in all my courses, I could afford to miss a day.” 

“Hmm… And does your dad know?” You tut, tilting your head. 

He stares back at you, “Does your dad know you let Sarah and John B spend their anniversary in the country club after hours?”

Across the table, Sarah’s jaw drops. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!” 

“I didn’t! Only you and he know.” You point to her boyfriend who was blinking owlishly. 

John B raises his hands, going rigid under his girlfriend’s glare. “I only told JJ.”

All eyes land on the blond, a paper crane napkin in his hands. “Hm? Oh yeah, I told Pope and Kie.” 

“No secrets between Pogues.” They both high-five over your head. 

You deflate, covering your face. “Don’t tell anyone else, okay? I don’t want to accidentally start some under-the-table business renting the club… My mom would kill me.” 

JJ coos, rubbing up and down your back. “Hey, it’s no different than Sarah lending Ward’s yacht to Pope when he wanted to impress that Touron…” He shrieks when a hand slaps the back of his head, knocking his hat to the ground.

“Idiot! No one knew about that!”

“I think we can all agree that JJ is just terrible at keeping secrets. Can’t trust him with anything.” 

You giggle and sip on your smoothie, half-listening to John B’s rant about some customers at the surf shop. JJ sticks a straw in your cup and drinks too, cheekily bumping your foreheads together, his pretty blue eyes locked onto yours. 

You find it hard to turn away, your gaze drifting over his face. From his strong nose to his cheekbones carrying a slight sunburn to his defined jaw. He flashes a grin, those stupid dimples making you a little flustered. 

JJ was a natural flirt, he could make anyone swoon, he showered his friends in platonic love and affection—hugs, cuddles, kisses, you name it and he’s done it to each of you. He’s dated around the island but those relationships never lasted long enough to get serious, and they’ve never been introduced to your group either. 

You’ve always wondered what he was like as a boyfriend, if he was as sweet with his partners as he was with all of you, if that tenderness bled into all his actions. He wore his heart on his sleeve in the most admirable of ways, although he was hotheaded and troubled, you’ve always felt safe with him. 

You pull away, squeezing your eyes shut, “agh! Brain freeze!” 

He snorts, bringing you forward for a sloppy kiss on your forehead, his cold lips against your warm skin. “Maybe you shouldn’t drink so quickly, ya dummy.” 

Kie finally joins the rest of you a while later, bringing trays of fresh food and more drinks before sitting beside John B. Her long brown hair is up in a bun, loose strands frame her face, “Just letting you all know, I expect a mighty fine tip today and everyone is helping me clean up after closing.”  

“Might as well take my kidney while you’re at it.” JJ speaks through a mouthful of fries, “we’re supposed to relax today.”

“And I don’t feel like getting elbow-deep in dirty dishes if I’m not being paid for it,” John B adds. 

“These free meals say different. C’mon, my dad promised he’d try not to disturb me this week if we get this place spotless for spring break.” She looks at you, brown eyes pleading, “I’ll get you a smoothie to go.”

“I mean… it’s a small price to pay for a week of freedom, right?”

“Not guaranteed freedom.”

JJ leans towards you, “don’t say yes.” 

“There’s six of us, we could get it done in one hour or even less if we work fast!” 

“I guess that’s true.” You agree, despite JJ’s protests. 

“Sunshine, no—if you stay, I’m gonna have to stay too.” 

Kie calls your name, reaching over to physically turn you towards her. “Don’t look at him. If you stay, he’ll stay, same goes for Sarah and John B, and well… Pope will stay regardless because he doesn’t have a choice.” 

Pope pulls a face, “excuse me?”

Truthfully, you were going to stay anyway, but it does make you a little bashful knowing that JJ wouldn’t leave without you. 

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

“Same here.” Sarah decides, earning a huff from her boyfriend, “And just for your attitudes, the guys have to clean the deep fryers.”

“Including Pope.” 

“I didn’t even say anything!” 

After thoroughly cleaning The Wreck, the night concludes with a movie marathon at the Chateau. Pope keeps his streak of picking the best movies and chooses a trilogy you haven’t seen before. Bowls of snacks and beer cans litter the floor, and a half-finished pizza sits on the coffee table. Sarah and John B share one couch, and Kie and Pope are sprawled on the floor atop cushions and blankets, while you and JJ are tucked into the smallest couch, your legs over his lap. 

As the opening credits roll on the screen, everyone takes the opportunity to do more catching up. Kie talks about cleaning up some beaches with other volunteers and her most recent trip off the island, a small project with a group of marine wildlife rescuers. She even shows a bunch of pictures of her with baby turtles. 

John B and JJ talk about their co-owned surf shop, “We caved and hired extra help.”

“Finally!” Kie exclaims, “If you and JJ were running that shop alone any longer, it would go bankrupt, you’re both so fucking lazy.”

“Hey, I’m a great employee. I just got employee of the month actually.” JJ defends. 

“You shouldn’t be proud of that if it’s only you two. You literally just vote for each other every month,” Sarah states knowingly. 

You, Sarah and Pope don’t have much to say about your college careers, except for the lack of sleep and dependence on caffeine. It’s not very exciting, but Pope’s story about his professor who only attends class in socks makes you a little thankful for your overly strict school. 

The marathon goes on, and the conversation dies down by the end of the second movie. Someone’s soft snoring flows over the steamy soundtrack and for the umpteenth time tonight, you look away as the two leads share a passionate kiss. At least it wasn’t another sex scene. 

As your best friend, JJ could read you like a book. He knew you from the inside out, he could tell what you were thinking before you even said it, and he knew all of those humiliating secrets that kept you up at night. One of them being your lack of experience. When you confessed that, he told you it wasn’t something to be ashamed of, everyone moves at different paces and lives different lives—but kissing?

“You’ve never been kissed?” 

You cover your face, embarrassment flooding in. “You don’t have to say it like that!” 

“I’m not—I’m not teasing.” His smile says differently. He easily pulls your hands down, holding them in his lap, “it’s just not what I was expecting.” 

He generally knew you weren’t the most experienced in intimacy and relationships, and that’s partly why he was so protective of you. Even at crowded parties and in his drunken state, he’d keep an eye on you, watching out for any creeps. Unbeknownst to you, it was an unspoken rule between the Pogues to treat you a little softer, a little sweeter because they all know how sensitive you were. 

But he figured you’ve kissed someone before. Maybe some lucky kid from Figure 8 or a dude from your private school. 

“I know, I know. You probably find it so funny.” You huff and roll your eyes, “laugh all you want, jerk.”

And to your chagrin, he does but quickly apologizes. “Sorry, sorry. Okay, maybe it’s a little funny. But not in a bad way! It’s actually cute.”

Cute? 

“It’s adorable.” He cups your face, “itty bitty baby hasn’t had her first kiss… not even with that poster in your bedroom?”

Your chest warms as he pinches and pulls both of your cheeks, puckering your lips when you try to speak, “...posh-ers don’t ha’ tongues.” 

“Oh, so you wanna French kiss for your first time? Didn’t think you were that type of girl, sunshine.”

You push him back and try to scoot away, making do with whatever sliver of space you can manage between the two of you, but he doesn’t let you get far. Keeping you in place with his hands on your hips. 

“You’re telling me, aside from no one taking you on a date before, no one has asked to kiss you either?”

“JJ, you know my parents. My mom is so hard to please, I can’t imagine bringing someone home for her approval. And I had opportunities but… I kept getting too nervous.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze tracing over your face. You hadn’t realized how close he was until now, you could count his every eyelash and his every freckle. 

“I could help you out.” 

A lump appears in your throat, it would silence your words if you could think of any but you can’t. Too caught up in his deep voice as it repeats in your head, again and again like a broken record.

“You trust me, right? You know me, I’m not—I’m not some guy you just met. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. If you wanted to, uh, kiss someone you just met, go ahead.” He reassures, “but I don’t think you want to do that.” 

JJ was so awfully sentimental when it came to his friendships. His several shoe boxes of polaroids, tickets and trinkets under his bed said enough about his love for nostalgia. He was always one to take a chance, to live in a moment for as long as he could, and to find the positives in any situation, even the worst ones. 

Years down the line, he never leaves the house without the silver zippo that you got him on a trip with your parents. It was easy to find something for each of your friends from your weeks-long stay in Europe: jewelry for Sarah and Kie, a first edition copy of a novel for Pope, and a vintage compass for John B, but you were stumped when it came to JJ. 

You saved his gift for last, long after everyone else had fallen asleep, the mess of your celebratory return littering the backyard in empty beer bottles and confetti. He bugged you all night, eager for his special little something.  

“Don’t open your eyes.” 

“...Mhm, I’m having trouble keeping ‘em open.”

You placed the zippo in his hand and stepped back, “Okay, just feel it.”

He passed it between his hands, dragging his fingers over the cold metal until he popped it open, “a lighter?”

You nearly turned away when your nerves started bubbling and you’re thankful you didn’t, or else you would’ve missed his reaction. To this day, you’ve never seen him smile so wide or his eyes light up that bright at the sight of his initials and P4L ingrained in the silver. 

He’s just JJ, one of your best friends in the entire world. 

Deciding to take this opportunity before it slips away, you nod and his lips meet yours. He starts with little pecks, soft and sweet like cotton candy, and they slowly drag into short kisses. Putting a bit of intensity behind it, his tongue swipes along your bottom lip, but you don’t get the hint until he gently thumbs at your chin, just barely pulling your lips apart. He tastes like beer and a bit of weed, and his lips are softer than they look. 

He’s slow and steady, letting you get used to the feel of him. You exhale in his mouth and shyly follow his lead, hoping he can’t hear your heart hammering in your chest. You don’t know if it’s the sweet rush of his lips against yours, or if this is how it feels to kiss someone for the first time, but you feel like you’ll float away. 

Before you know it, he pulls away and presses his forehead against yours. 

“You can breathe while we kiss.” He chuckles, nudging your nose with his, “don’t want you passing out on me, sunshine.” 

You realize how lightheaded you feel and gasp for air, subconsciously licking your lips to taste him again. In a daze, you breathe in and out, briefly wondering if it felt like this to kiss just anyone. 

One of his hands slips behind your neck and the other falls to your thigh, warm and gentle. “Do you want to stop?” 

You glance at your friends, still passed out on the floor and other couches, the movie playing dully in the background. “No?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“No.” You repeat, firmer this time. “I don’t want to stop. Pl-Please don’t stop.” 

How could JJ deny you? Especially when you ask so dreamily with that glazed look in your eyes. He fights the urge to pull you into his lap and touch you all over and be the first person to make you into a pretty mess, to feel you in a way no one else has before. He connects your lips again, taking the lead and slipping his tongue into your mouth. 

The unmistakable wet noises cause tingles to course all over your body, from your toes to the tips of your fingers clasped in your lap. They only get stronger when he tilts your head to kiss you deeper.

“You can touch me too,” he murmurs, bringing your hand to the back of his neck. Your digits automatically curl in his blond hair, drawing a low groan from his throat. 

That’s when you go completely dumb and totally thoughtless. All concerns fly out of your mind and join the bluebirds above your head. They’re playing a little song to the beat of your heart, hitting every note and putting you at ease like a lovesick lullaby. You almost assume that’s why you feel lightheaded again.

JJ leans back, his voice raspy, “you keep forgetting to breathe, baby.” 

“I’m sorry,” you exhale heavily, the butterflies in your tummy going wild as he caresses your face. “I’m not good at this yet.”

His rough fingers drag down your cheekbones and trace your jaw, the pad of his thumb gently presses on your bottom lip, almost slipping inside your mouth. His eyes seem darker, the clear blue shaded in something you can’t name. 

His lips trail to your jaw, the movie long forgotten, “It’s okay, we have lots of time to practice. I’m gonna teach you everything I know, sunshine.” 

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: ahhh I've always wanted to write a sweet fic like this, i'm so excited to dive into a new fandom 🥰🥰 i'm still a lil nervous, but i'm hoping for the best !! feel free to stop by my inbox and let me know what you think of this so far, or request blurbs/drabbles for this au !!

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! this fic doesn't have an update schedule, but i'll add dates on the masterlist (linked here) if i have a date in mind. also, here's the 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 for this fic !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[loveisfriendship]

A rare occasion

Never would one have thought that a simple smile would mean so much to you. It being such a rare occasion probably meant that the importance to you was that significant.

Watching your husband from afar you noticed that his mood around his family got more and more irritated. Family meeting.

But not one gathered by him. One of his brothers asked for it. You didn’t really listen for what. Probably something about a women.

You were lost in your thoughts, looking at your husband. Thinking about his smile. It’s been a while that you saw it. But he just came back from London.

You’ve known him all your life. Running through the forests, sleeping under the stars. As children his smile was constant.

Time changes that… more war changes that.

Now that smile was reserved for family, but his real smile. The one that you remember from your childhood. The one from ear to ear, when he teases you and tells bad jokes. That one was strictly for you.

Usually in the intimacy of your own room.

Apparently you had been in your thoughts to long. Under the table a careful and gentle tap of your husbands foot gets you back to the reality. His blue eyes look at you confused with a subtle worry behind them.

You smile at him and reach for his arm and give him a gentle squeeze. A sign for him that you are fine. But nonetheless he sets down his cigarette and puts his hand above yours. He gives you a signal with his head that you two should leave. You nod and stand up, realizing again what his brothers are talking about.

“Where are you two of to so quickly?” Arthur asks or more slurs, pausing his discussion with John. Both of them eying you suspiciously.

“Sorry Boys, but it’s time to head home.” You smile at them on the way to the door of the snug. Tommy also stood up and put on this jacket before taking his cigarette again.

“Oh so that’s why you need to head home.” John says and winks at you, grabbing the toothpick between his teeth. It quickly earns him a smack across the back of his head from your husband.

“See you later boys.” He mumbles before opening the door for you. You wave and smile to Polly before you leave, leaving the pub and heading towards the car.

Tommy opens the door for you and you give him a small kiss on the cheek before getting in. The drive home was silent but your hand rested on your husbands neck whereas his hand rested on your thigh. Your finger slowly rub circles on the back of his head.

At home you hand your jackets to Frances before Tommy grabs your hand again and pulls you with him up the stairs to your bedroom. He opens the door and pulls you in before telling the staff not to disturb and closing the door.

You take of your shoes before Tommy stands before you and pulls you close by your hips. His hands settling there loosely squeezing your hips.

“Are you okay?” He asks looking into your eyes intensely before closing the gap between you as you lean in giving him a kiss.

“I’m fine, just daydreaming.” You smile, winking at him, causing him to smirk smugly.

“Oh yeah, what about?” He asks intrigued before pulling out his cigarette case, offering you one. You gladly grab one and wait for him to light it for you.

“A certain someone’s smile.” You answer, blowing out the smoke. But as soon as you see his face you giggle. His confused look was adorable.

“Love, you lost me. What are you talking about?”

“Remember when we used to sleep under the stars?” You ask and he nods, taking another drag from his cigarette.

“I was just thinking about that, and how we talked through the night and fell asleep barely before the sun rose.” You smile fondly, pushing your cigarette into the ash tray, Tommy doing the same. You take his face into your hands and giggle.

“And I thought of all the bad jokes you used to tell. Which cracked me up nonetheless, causing me stomach aches.”

At that description you saw it. That smile you meant.

“And that, that right there was what I thought about.” You smile back, Tommy putting his hands above yours on his face before planting a kiss in the palm of your right hand. Moving his hands to your waist he pulls you closer with a quick and strong drag, but by now smirking down at you.

“Is that so?” He hums and you hum back.

“For my favorite smile of you, we need to do something else first.” He smiles

“Is that so?” You retort and giggle as he nods and grins.

“Well than, Mr. Shelby. Better get to it right?” You say as he immediately crushes his lips to yours, slowly walking you backwards towards the bed.

[roger-that-cap]

seven summers

bradley bradshaw x fem! reader

this my first fic in what feels like a century for a completely different fandom. i have been gathering up the courage to do this again, and i've been sitting on this for about two months now. take it easy on me y'all i feel like a sixty year old veteran re-enlisting right now and i have NO idea how to reload my weapon

warnings: absolutely none! well theyre a little sad for a minute but nothing that tumblr can't handle

word count: 5.9k

Loud spaces weren’t really in your list of favorite places. You could tolerate bars more than you could do clubs, though, and your best friend took that into consideration when she planned the night out for you two. The music was loud and the people were starting to get rowdy, but at least no one was grinding on you or begging for a dance. That was always when you would wrap it up for the night, shaking your head at even thinking that it was a good idea. 

“Thank you,” you told the bartender, an exceptionally gorgeous older woman who always seemed to have a meddling look on her face. Her hair was lightly waved around her face as she looked you up and down for a second. You thought she was going to say something, but she just nodded at you once with a small smile before you turned away again, facing the crowd of people you were about to delve back into. You were just leaving the bar top with a soda (you were the DD, as always) when you tripped over someone else’s huge shoe. 

“Oh, shit,” a manly voice said as you tripped, and hands caught your arm before you fell over all the way. You looked up and saw a blond man in an achingly familiar navy uniform looking down at you, and your eyes narrowed as his eyes grew wide. “I’m sorry.” 

His uniform nearly brought you to a scene of painful flashbacks. You knew you were bound to run into attractive men in uniforms so close to a base, but there was an air about this man that made you feel like you were almost running right through the mist, right through the shadow of a man that you once knew, and a man that wore that very same uniform as he walked away. 

You loved Alexandra, your friend you met through other friends. The only downside was that she was in the Navy, and that meant that you were almost always surrounded with memories of your ex boyfriend when you were with her. Him and that stupid uniform that stole him away. 

“No worries,” you said after a few seconds, smiling at him. “It’s crowded here.” 

“Oh, nice tattoo,” he said, and your hand immediately went to your collarbone, where the one tattoo you had rested. It was a nicely done tattoo of a honeybee, a mark of your past. Something you probably should have gotten removed, but every time you tried to convince yourself, you gave another reason to not get it removed. Deep down, you knew why you couldn’t go through with it.

“Thank you, I got it a while ago.” That was all you could say as memories flashed in your mind, but you managed to smile. 

“You look really familiar,” he said, and you noticed that he also had an air of confidence to him as well as familiarity. He was an attractive man, almost too perfect. And he had a smile that you knew lured girls in far too often to be completely innocent. 

“I’m kinda new to the area,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “Maybe we’ve run into each other at the grocery store or something? Or if you’re a frequent flier at the hospital.” That happened a lot. People you had never had as your own patients would sometimes recognize you, especially if they were often there. 

“Yeah, maybe.” He looked you up and down one more time, almost like he was genuinely trying to figure out what his own mind was trying to remind him, before he nodded his head at you with a small smirk and a toothpick between his lips and left just as quickly as he came. And then your friend was taking his place, jabbering on about something as you tried to clear your own head. 

You never wanted to be one of those people that lived in the past, and for the most part, you weren’t. You lived in the moment. You loved to make new memories, find new things to do, and meet new people. You loved meeting new people. However, the problem with meeting new people, especially men, was that there was that one guy from that one specific relationship that you had gotten yourself in that made it feel like everything was all for nothing. 

Bradley Bradshaw. 

You didn’t even know exactly what it was. You had been in plenty of summer flings that were passionate and fun, but you got over them easily enough. You had met so many people, loved and lost, and they all stuck with you in different ways that all felt sweet in one way or another. But Bradley? There was something about him that stayed with you in a different way. The thought of him kept a lingering taste of something distinct on your tongue. 

In a way, he was the biggest waste of time you had ever spent your life on. There were two years that you shared being officially together, but it felt like forever. You should have known he was trouble the second you saw that military-grade mustache, and the confident walk he always had. You should’ve known he would cause you some pain the second his eyes and his smile proved to be a deadly combo. You poured so much love into that man in a short time in the grand scheme of things, and looking back, it was as much of a waste as it was a privilege. 

For a while, you prayed for his return. He had broken your heart right before he left for his deployment, but that didn’t mean that you wanted anything to happen to him. You prayed for a while for him to come back safely and then come right back to you, and then that progressed into you praying to never see him again. You wished for his safety, you always would, but you never wanted to hear anything about him ever again unless it was saying that he landed safely back on US soil. After that, you wanted his name to be gone with the wind and buried with the dust of time. 

Either way, he was in your thoughts forever and always, regardless of how many summers passed or how many people there were after him, how many you had met to pass the time. And as you stood in the middle of the bar with Alexandra, you were frozen in shock as you realized that you probably manifested the very fighter pilot in front of you.  

He had seen you first. He was surrounded by attractive people in uniforms that you knew had to be his friends, and when you caught the eyes of the very blond man that you fell over before pointing at you with the angle of his head, your jaw dropped a bit. The man from earlier looked at you and slapped Bradley on his back, giving a blinding smirk before saying something to him that you couldn’t hear. 

You were sure you looked silly standing there, freezing up the second you recognized him with a pool stick in your hand. You felt all the tension in your body work together to keep you as straight as a board. You blinked when your friend nudged you, completely oblivious to the mini panic attack you were about to have, and you swallowed and looked away like it didn’t nearly hurt you to stop looking at him. 

You felt like you were drowning. 

“You’re not tapping out or anything, right?” Alexandra asked, narrowing her eyes at you. “We’ve barely been here an hour, and you already have that uncomfortable look on your face.” 

“What look?” You managed to murmur, completely aware that he was still looking at you. His gaze felt as familiar as it had back then.

“The one where you’re looking for escape routes,” she teased, even though she was starting to look concerned. “You do it all the time. Hey, are you okay?” 

“Yeah!” You said, way too loud to be normal. “I’m good.”

You prayed he didn’t approach you. He had plenty of distractions on his side of the room, lots of friends to talk to even though it was obvious they were trying to get him to go over to you. You were hoping that he would never come up to you or look your way again, but you were sick to your stomach when you realized that him walking away would mean he didn’t care nearly as much as you did. 

You closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to understand that none of what you were seeing was a dream. 

“Hi!” A woman’s voice from behind you said, and you turned around. You saw a woman in uniform smiling politely at both you and Alex, and you assumed that she knew her, but then her attention was on you. “I’m sorry, I just had to come over and say I love your dress.” 

You were a simple creature, and one of your fatal flaws was that you were exceptionally friendly. That easily, the tension left your body as you spoke to the woman. You smiled kindly at her. “Thank you! I got it at a thrift store, but you can check the back to see where it’s from if you want!” She grinned at you, and then you saw her eyes wander to your hand. 

“Oh, your ring is pretty, too!” The woman said. “When’s the wedding?” She joked, and you laughed. You wanted a big wedding, back then. Back when you could see the groom in your head, imagine the words he would say, and even imagine your first name combined with his last: Bradshaw. But that was nothing now. 

“Thank you! You’re so sweet. It’s from my mom though, she gave it to me a few years ago.” She gave it to you, her big, shiny ring that her first husband had bought her just as a gift. Instead of pawning it, you begged her to have it. It had no sentimental value to you at all. It kind of looked like an engagement ring, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off. It warded off men for the most part, and it was a piece of her. 

“Aw, that’s so sweet. I’m Nat! Most people around here call me Phoenix.” 

You grinned at her and shook her hand before telling her your name, and you knew right then that you liked her. She was extroverted, but very polite. Just your type of person. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” 

“You too!” She smiled at you before she continued her walk to the bar, and you didn’t think anything else of the nice girl in uniform.

The next few minutes went without any issues at all, and you felt like you could ignore the situation at hand and have a good rest of the night with Alex before it was time for you guys to head home. 

“Hey.” 

You weren’t hearing his voice. You just weren’t. You made your next shot in the game and ignored him. 

You could feel him get closer to you, so close you could smell his cologne. Your eyes watered when you realized it was the very scent you picked out for him all those years ago. He still wore it. 

You heard a very manly throat clear from beside you, and you realized that he wasn’t going to give it up. “Hi,” he tried again, and you breathed through your nose and finally turned around, looking face to chest at him before you looked up. 

He was smiling down at you. He was smiling down at you as if nothing had happened, and no time had passed. You smiled back at first like muscle memory, but then your face dropped to a frown almost immediately. His smile fell, too. He nodded at your friend in acknowledgement, but she was too busy eyeing him up and trying to decide if he was a threat to you or the night to know that he was being friendly. 

“Bradshaw,” you said, and his frown got deeper when he realized you called him by his last name. He hated that. You weren’t in the Navy and you had been together, you and he always insisted you reserved the rights to using his real name. Not his call sign, not his last name, but the one his parents had given him. “It’s been a while.” 

“Bradley,” he corrected gently, almost like he thought you genuinely forgot, or like you threw out his first name from your personal dictionary. As if you could ever forget a detail about him. That was the blessing and the curse that he left you with. “You look-” he stopped talking for a moment, and you could have sworn that you saw an ocean of fondness in his pretty eyes that shouldn’t have still been there. “You’re still so beautiful.” 

Your words felt caught in your throat. You wanted to tell him that his tan made him look beautiful. You wanted to say that he had filled out so nicely, and that his scars still fit his face perfectly. You remembered kissing them while laying in the summer sun and you remembered kissing them under the tiny Christmas tree you guys had bought together and plugged in. You were both so broke it only had about ten ornaments on it, but that never mattered. Never to the two of you. “You… still have that mustache.” 

“You always liked it,” he said, a small smile coming back into his expression, but you didn’t give one back. 

“So you’ve kept it growing in hopes to run into me?” 

“Maybe I have,” he answered, and you blinked at him. He had always had a flirty personality. 

You just blinked. “Uh, yeah. That’s nice.” Was it? It was opening every old wound you had ever had. Every wound that was partially healed by another person’s fleeting kisses was being torn right back open by one sighting of Bradley Bradshaw. 

“It’s- it’s amazing to see you, how have you been?” 

You were becoming more and more confused. How in the hell was he being so chipper? Maybe chipper wasn’t the word, he was being polite. Or, maybe it was that he wasn’t falling apart like you were. How? How was he managing politeness when you were hardly breathing? The thought that he would walk away from the conversation like it never happened made you irritable and defensive at the same time. “Why do you care?” 

His brows furrowed, and he was looking at you as if you were saying all the wrong things. “Because I care how you’ve been.” 

“Why?”

He took a look at your friend, who was still staring him down. “Uh, can we talk for a second?” He asked, and you pursed your lips together. 

“No, she’s good right here,” Alexandra said, and you gave her a small smile. 

“No, it’s okay, he’s fine. He’s big, but he’s harmless.” You saw his chest puff up in just the slightest at the mention of his physique, and you rolled your eyes. “We can step outside, but I’m not going home with you.” 

“Okay!” He said, a little too loud for the setting, and you fought back a smile at how excited he was just to talk. You squashed the fondness down. “Okay, uh, come with me.” 

The second your foot hit the gravel outside, his fingers were touching yours. The touch was innocent, but you still yanked your hand away. He backed away understandingly. “Force of habit, sorry.” 

And it was. You remembered his little quirks. You were always pretty independent, and he had always been touchy and protective, so the compromise back then was that he would lay off while you were inside of a building, but he would hold your hand and guide you all he wanted to the second you walked outside. 

“I- uh, I wanted to talk about us.” 

“The past?” You said, crossing your arms. 

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” he said slowly, like he was just then realizing he was treading on very thin ice. 

“We knew each other,” you corrected, fully aware of your friend piecing the situation together by the expression on her face, and you gave her a look that held promises of filling her in. 

“Don’t be like that,” he said, coming a little closer, and you felt your eyes burn when you smelled his familiar scent even more. Your tradition of buying men cologne that matched their personalities had died after Bradley. It was something you didn’t really understand why you did it yourself, but it was fun, and Bradley loved it. He was the fourth guy you had done it with, and he was the last. It just didn’t feel right with anyone else, and it was simply something else you kissed goodbye when you and Bradley went your separate ways. 

“I’m not being any certain way.” 

“I would definitely say that we know each other,” he said, a short chuckle dying on his lips, and you could hear the hurt in his voice.  “We were together nearly every day for two years. We’d sit on the river and on the beach and talk about everything for hours. We road-tripped cross-country. I remember everything you ever told me back home, and I remember the last summer we had together like it was yesterday.” 

You looked back up at him with eyes that you knew had to be full of sadness. “That was four summers ago.” 

You saw it set in with him how much time really had gone by. You watched his eyes widen and his lips poke outwards as he breathed out. “Wow.” 

Had time really not passed for him as slowly as it did to you? 

All you could do was swallow and turn your head away from the breeze. “Yeah.” 

“Do you have a boyfriend now?” 

Part of you was so thrown by his question and his lack of tact, especially because he had been such a good flirt back then. Maybe time had changed him. “I’m married.” 

Immediately, he shook his head with a small smile. “You’re not.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, even though you were enjoying the back and forth. It felt so familiar. “How would you know that?” 

“That was the first thing I checked before I came over,” he admitted, and you cocked your head at him. “I looked at your finger and saw the ring before you even noticed me. And then I asked Phoenix to go over to you and make sure it was what I thought it was, and I was right.” 

You gasped. You should have known that that stupid nickname was a damn callsign, the glaring beacon of a person that meant that they were a pilot. And pilots were… they were hard to love. 

“I knew that if I came over to you, there would be no way I could hold my tongue from trying to win you back, so I had to make sure you weren’t married first, at least. But I’m not even sure that would’ve stopped me,” he muttered under his breath, and you rolled your eyes. 

You were still a little bitter over him sending one of his friends to talk to you, and how well he knew you. He knew you never would have responded to a random man the same way you did Phoenix. “How do you know I don’t have a boyfriend?”

“I’m praying.” And then he sighed. “I don’t have anyone either.” 

You would have laughed in his face if you weren’t so gutted. “I find that hard to believe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Considering you broke it off so you could run around and meet other girls, I would be very shocked if you didn’t have one with a ring on her finger by now.” 

His eyes widened to a size that was almost comical. “What?” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Before you deployed. You know, when you broke up with me so that you could go talk freely with other women.” 

His facial expression was so shocked that you almost bought it. He looked genuinely thrown in a loop by your words. “I didn’t break up with you to meet other people, Bee.” 

You nearly caught whiplash at hearing your old nickname pouring like straight up honey from his mouth. No one called you that in a long time, mostly because ‘Bee’ was reserved for Bradley after a day he met you in freshman year of college, and you did an entire presentation on conservation of bees with passion that none of the other students had in their slideshows. It was what had drawn him to you in the first place.

 “That’s what it felt like.” It still felt like that, four years later. 

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head slowly. You hated how handsome he looked even when he was confused.  But he had no right to look confused. “That’s not what happened at all.” 

Your tone said it all for you as you crossed your arms. “Um, that’s what I remember, Bradshaw.” 

He ignored what you called him, but you saw it in his eyes that it still bothered him. “I cut it off because I felt awful that you were going to be forced to wait for me,” he said, taking a step closer, and you saw his sad brown eyes begging you to listen. “We were still so young, you were even younger than me. It wasn’t fair for me to ask you to keep waiting for me, especially because I kept going on dangerous deployments.” 

His words were bouncing around in your head. You calculated what he was saying, narrowing your eyes and trying to make sense of how it was changing your entire perspective of what happened, second by second. 

“Are you fucking stupid?” You blurted, but he wasn’t surprised. In fact, he looked relieved. You never really made a habit of swearing, not even while arguing, but when you rarely let a word slip, it meant that you cared a lot. 

Bradley wasn’t quite sure which way you cared and if it was in a good way or a bad way, but he was determined to change the passion to a way that would benefit the both of you. 

“If you want me to be,” he rasped, and you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Did you just say you didn’t want me to wait for you?” 

He blinked. “Yeah. You were what, twenty three? Your whole life was ahead of you. It wasn’t fair for you to have to wait for me to come home when you… you’re full of so much life. You had just gotten your dream job at the hospital, and you were so happy. If you were to stick it out with me gone, you would just have to decide between your job and me anyway when I got home. I ended up getting stationed somewhere else not too long after I came back home, just like I knew I would.” 

“Bradley, I told you I wanted to travel, anyway. That job was not my forever job.” 

“But-”

“I was prepared to wait for- for forever.” It was his turn to look shocked. “I really would have, Bradley. You just never even gave me the chance to. You pulled the rug out underneath me. You didn’t even ask me.” 

He ran a hand over his face as the weight of the decision he made for the both of you settled heavy on his chest. “Oh, god.” 

“I assumed you were deploying and you wanted to meet new people. I mean, I know that a lot of… you guys are cheaters. The stereotypes are true a lot of the time. I just figured you were sparing me from the cheating and cutting it off before it could get to that point.” 

“Oh, god, no.” He shook his head. “You- thought I was cheating on you?” 

“Well- what else was I supposed to think?” 

“I would never,” he said, using his hands to make a broad “no” gesture. “You’ve always been it for me, ever since we met. There couldn’t have been anyone else, and there hasn’t been this whole time.” 

You tried to mask the way you were falling into a puddle at his feet. “You’re so dumb.” 

“Is it dumb of me to think you’ll hear me out a little more?” 

You rolled your eyes at him, but your skin felt like it was on fire being so close to him again. “You’re plenty dumb, Rooster.” 

“You never called me Rooster.” 

“Well, I don’t know Bradley anymore.” 

“I- why are you saying that?” He asked, and his face grew even more distraught. “You do know me. Nothing’s changed. Nothing is different at all besides the time. I still- there’s nothing that has changed about the way I feel for you.” 

“What do you want me to say?” You couldn’t confess your love to him again. You loved him, a part of you always would, but you couldn’t handle him coming out of the blue and telling you everything you had secretly been wishing he would say to you for years. He was coming in like a dream. It was far too good to be true. “We got lost in translation four years ago and there's nothing we can do about it. Unless you and your pilot friends have been smart enough to build a time machine.” 

“I would build a thousand time machines if it meant that I could change what I did, I was stupid. I was so stupid.” He stepped closer. “But I never stopped loving you. Not even once.” 

A tear ran down your face, and that’s when you knew it was time to go find Alexandra again. “I-I gotta go, Bradley.” Before you could even turn around all the way, he took you by your hips and turned you back around, both pairs of your eyes wide mirrors of the other. 

“I have been haunted by the thought of you for four years now,” he said, voice as soft and gentle as the breeze, but the grip he had on your hips was so desperate it almost made you sob. “I haven’t even- I’ve tried, but there hasn’t been anyone else. Not emotionally. Not even close, Bee.” 

You couldn’t say the exact same. You tried and succeeded for a time, but they were never complete fixes. Just when you thought you were happy with someone else and free of the clutches of Bradley Bradshaw, he snuck right back. He ripped that rug out from under you every time without fail without even being present. That was your problem with each “relationship”, you were looking for a remedy and closure for a relationship that the next person had no idea about and no obligation to make better. 

But you had definitely been haunted by the lack of Bradley Bradshaw. He was there all the time with you in your mind, whether you wanted him or not. 

“This,” you said, shaking your head, and judging by the look on his face, he knew he was losing you. “This is a lot.” 

“Wait, don’t walk away. I just got you back.” 

“I’m not back, Bradley.” 

“You’re back in front of me,” he said, and you stopped turning away from him. “That’s all I could ask for. Even if you want nothing else to do with me ever again, I just want to stand here and look at you for one more minute. Please.” 

You put your hands over your face the second you felt your eyes start to burn and overflow with tears. You could feel his energy before you even felt his true touch, and the second you felt his arms around you, you broke down. 

“I thought- I thought you were so nervous a few days before you left because you were going to propose to me.” 

You couldn’t believe the words that were leaving your mouth. You had been so humiliated about jumping to conclusions that you hadn’t even told Alexandra about that part. You never planned on telling anyone that was the reason why you were so hurt, especially not the man who caused you all that pain. It had been sitting heavy on your chest, the humiliation and the sadness alike, for all four summers. You never planned on letting it loose. 

But you had already said it. 

“You boys get married so fast, and honestly, I was ready. I thought you were nervous because you were going to ask me to marry you, not because you were breaking up with me.”

 “Oh.” 

“It gutted me so bad when you broke it off. I thought it was going to be the opposite- I thought we were going to start our lives together and then you just…” you looked down at the ground as you tried to swallow back down the memory, even though everything was coming back so strong. “It was gone, that fast. And I realized I loved you a lot more than you ever loved me, obviously.” 

“That's not even close to being true,” he said, shaking his head rapidly. “You can ask any of the guys I shipped out with. I was fucking miserable the whole time. And I know you don’t know the new guys I’m with, but this new squad even knows that there’s nobody else. You’re the one that got away.” 

“You let me go,” you corrected, and he smiled sadly. 

“Because I loved you.” 

“That’s so fucking dumb,” you said, but you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him. “That’s for fairytales, stupid.”

You felt yourself leaning into him, and he was letting you. His body language was inviting you in. You could see it in his eyes and you could feel his hands trembling as he moved them from your waist to hover over your back, like he was ready to pull you into him the second you gave in. You knew it was only a matter of time before you did give in, and the longer you felt his hands hover over you like you were stained glass, the more you craved his familiar, burning touch. You felt the pull to him like you were magnets. Like he was the sun and you were Icarus. You were the moth to his enticing flame, but he had always seen you as a butterfly. You were terrified to get burned for the second time, and fall from grace all over again. 

“That one pilot said he recognized me,” you blurted, and you felt his eyes on you even though you couldn’t look at him. “I’ve never met him before, have I?” You might have. You used to know a lot of his old friends. He shook his head. “How did he know me?” 

Without hesitation, his answer came. “I have pictures of you in my cockpit.” 

That was what threw you.  “What?”

“Most pilots keep photos of important people in their cockpit. It reminds them to fly safer. In the worst cases, it’s so that they can see a glimpse of family before they go down.” 

Your heart was soaring so high that it was breaking with the pressure of it. “You have a picture of me in there?” 

He had absolutely no shame about it as he nodded his head firmly. “Yeah, I have pictures of you. In my cockpit and in my locker.” Were you his screensaver, too? You didn’t know. 

But you were in his locker. It made your heart flutter and it sent you right back to highschool. “More than one?” 

“I have so many that my squad recognized you without me even saying anything. Hangman was the one who told me you were here.” 

“Oh.” 

He kicked the rocks underneath his foot, and then he was squinting back down at you. “You thought- you thought I was going to ask you to marry me?” 

Just like that, your soaring, cracking heart plummeted again. “You don’t have to rub it in, Bradley.” 

“No, it’s not that at all. I just- you would’ve said yes?” 

“Of course I would have said yes, stupid.” You ignored how his eyes lit up and turned your body away with crossed arms. He was always so expressive, even when he didn’t want to be. “But that was a long time ago.” 

“Not too long,” he rushed, and you shook your head. 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, especially because it was mostly to get the tears away. “It was a while ago, Bradley.” 

“There’s no amount of time apart that would make me not want to be with you, Bee.” 

Your head swiveled to him upon hearing your nickname from him again. “It- it doesn’t just work like that, dude.” 

“Why not?” 

“We were stupid back then. We lived off of blind faith and a whole lot of hopes. It doesn’t work that way anymore.”

“We make our own rules, that’s the glory of being adults.” He took your hands and you faced him, and the hope in his expression nearly floored you. “Who said we can’t pick up where we left off?” 

You scoffed, even though you weren’t even close to laughing. “You’re crazy.” 

“Crazy about you, but you’ve always known that,” he said with a smile. “You’ve always known how to work with it, too.” 

For a moment, you felt a glimmer of hope and you felt the whisper of a smile come onto your face. And then you crashed again, and he must have seen it all over your face because his own smile went away and was replaced by concern. Before he could even ask what happened that fast, you threw your face into his chest and wrapped your arms around him. 

He held you back just as quickly, and you knew he had been waiting for you. He smelled like home and he even felt like it, and when you opened your eyes all you could see was that stupid, loud Hawaiian print. 

“I-if we do this again you- I can’t handle it if you leave me again. I couldn’t take it. Please, Bradley.” 

“Don’t you even worry about that,” he said firmly, holding you so close that it felt like the two of you were physically molding together. “If you give me the chance, I want a shot at forever.” 

You pulled your wet face away from his shirt and looked up at him as your heart raced in your chest. “Huh?” 

He stared down at you for a moment, and you could see in his ever-expressive eyes that he was thinking about saying something to you that was about to change everything. “I fully intend to become your husband when we’re ready, if you let me. Just the way you wanted, and the way I’ve always dreamed about. I’m not going anywhere.” 

The logical part of you knew that he was being ridiculous. Bradley was nothing if not overzealous, nothing if not reaching for goals that were just short of being unattainable. He was the version of Icarus that always managed to get back to earth safely by the skin of his teeth. He always put the cart before the horse, but somehow he always managed to get there. 

So, you knew he was being serious. As crazy as he sounded, he was. 

“Do you really mean that?” You didn’t have to ask that question. In fact, the words felt like acid on your tongue, but your heart pressed you to ask it anyway. 

“Nothing could get me to leave you again, especially not my own stupidity.” He was holding you even tighter. “I promise.” 

You were going to hold him to that with the same intensity that he held you with. 

*****

oh boy.

so this one i’ve been sitting on forever and i’m tired of looking at it, but i have nothing but love for this fic that is pulling me out of a writing slump. i wrote it out of pure love for rooster though so i felt like i had to share it!! also- this comes from two main things;

two songs (“7 summers” and “ ‘98 braves” by morgan wallen) and then me being dumb enough to get involved with a military man of my own. he’s been gone for a while so i’m manifesting he comes back soon. anyone who is thinking about getting with a person- especially man- in the military (i can only speak for the united states military bc that’s where i’m from), you better be tough. i know they look good. i know they have this energy to them- trust me i’ve been obsessed since i was like 15. way before top gun maverick. but if you’re gonna be stupid, you better be tough 💀💀💀 and if you need any guidance to being stupid, i’m always here!!!

if you’re new here thanks for stopping by and checking it out! if you’re from an old fandom of mine but read it anyways i love you so much, it means a lot. 💕💕💕

[cabinetofquriosities]

1950

Agatha x Rio AU || Warnings: smut

Fic Playlist

(Listen along while reading)

——————————————————

Rio had been tracking her mark for two nights now. Being a private eye in her time was easy, given that no one ever suspected a woman of anything.

She had been paid by Ralph Harkness to see if his wife had another man on the side. It was a pretty routine case for her to get. She would either get proof of her in bed with someone or of her going to a book club. She hoped for the book club, if just to avoid having some blubbering man who never treated his wife right in the first place breaking down in her office.

She had blended well into the background of Agatha’s life, situating herself as another face in the crowd. When she shopped, she was a few aisles over. When she drove, she tailed her two cars back. Now, she was parked around the corner, hidden on a fire escape in a shady neighborhood, watching Agatha through her binoculars.

While Agatha normally wore elegant dresses, she was wearing something closer to a feminine suit with suspenders and the blouse beneath it having the top few buttons undone. Her makeup and hair were flawless, her red lip drawing attention. She adjusted her suit jacket before walking down the street in wing-tipped shoes. It reminded Rio of something that Katherine Hepburn would wear. She looked both beautiful and dashing all in one.

She completely that she was at work as she watched the woman slid past the person guarding the door into what looked like a private club.

“Shit…” she whispered to herself, not having gotten one photo of her.

She decided to go inside. After snapping a picture of the club entrance and Agatha’s convertible, she left her camera in her own car. She made her way to the door of the club, knocking when she realized it was locked.

The door opened, revealing who she thought was a man at first, but was a very masculine woman.

“Hello, Dolly,” she said with a smirk, “First time here?”

Rio smiled nervously, saying, “Yes.”

“Relax, you’re safe here. Have fun,” she said, stepping aside to let her in.

Rio walked inside, her dark green satin dress hugging her form, falling to her knee. Her black hair swept down in a perfect wave to kiss her bare shoulders. She looked around, seeing women everywhere. They were drinking at the bar, dancing on the dance floor, and wrapped up in each other in dark cozy corners. Rio had known of places like this for certain men who lived their lives in secret, but never women.

She walked up to the bar and ordered a martini. She drank it instantly before ordering another, needing a dose of courage. She had followed others into dangerous and sordid places where she felt unsafe, but this place made her uneasy in an entirely different way.

She nursed her second martini, perched on one of the stools as a dapper woman named Syd chatted her up. She caught sight of Agatha across the room. The other woman leaned against the wall, flirting with a young, blushing blonde. As if she felt Rio watching, her eyes flicked over and found hers. Rio’s heart stopped a moment as she looked away. After a few seconds passed, she chanced another glance, finding that Agatha’s eyes were still on her.

Rio looked back at Syd, who had caught on that her attention was somewhere else.

“Sorry, you were saying?” Rio said, sipping her martini.

“Agatha,” Syd said, catching her off guard.

“Syd,” said a familiar voice right behind her.

Rio just about jumped out of her skin. She was normally so calm when out on a job, but something about this woman knocked her off balance.

“Take a walk, Syd. Your girl’s looking for you,” Agatha said, nodding toward a very angry looking woman.

“Shit,” Syd muttered before running over to the other woman with profuse apologies.

“Such a dog,” Agatha said with an arched brow, “So, I haven’t seen you around here.”

Rio played with the toothpick in her drink.

“Yeah… it’s my first time at a place like this.”

“Oh! Well, welcome to the greener grass. No man in sight.”

Rio laughed and said, “Thank you. It is definitely better than any nightclub I’ve been to.”

“I’m Agatha, by the way,” she said, reaching her hand out.

“Vera,” she said, giving her an alias.

Agatha brought Rio’s hand up to her lips, kissing the knuckles, leaving red lipstick behind. Her cheeks burned as she blushed, her reaction betraying her professionalism. Agatha kept her hand in hers.

“Would you like to dance?” she asked as a slow song came on.

“Sure.”

Agatha led her to the dance floor. In one smooth motion, she spun Rio before pulling her in. Her hand rested on her hip and the other held Rio’s.

“So, Vera, are you married or single?” She asked.

“Single, of course,” she said.

“It’s not always the case here. A lot of women need to hide themselves behind a husband.”

“You?”

“Married. Unhappily. I hoped it would at least be peaceful, but that man is drunk most of the time.”

“Oh,” Rio said, “I’m sorry. That sounds terrible.”

“It is. I can’t leave, though.”

“Why not?”

“He would get everything.”

“You… don’t have anything on him?” Rio asked, unable to turn the investigator side of herself off.

“Like what?”

“Well, if he was cheating..”

“He would still get everything. No one would hire a divorcee either. No, I just need to outlive his liver and hope he never notices that his wife prefers the company of women,” she said.

Rio swallowed, realizing how privileged she had been to inherit the money she had to start her investigation business. Most women couldn’t earn the money she did. Now, she was about to completely ruin Agatha’s situation when she had nothing to fall back on.

“Well, I hope his liver fails,” she said.

“Thanks,” Agatha said with a smirk, swaying with her.

Rio pressed her cheek to hers as they danced. Her front was against Agatha’s as she was held by her. She breathed in the other woman’s expensive perfume, finding herself dizzied by it all. She had always told herself that romance was never something that mattered to her. She never felt that spark of attraction with any man. Now, she felt a rush of new emotions swirling around in her mind.

“So…” Agatha whispered, “Why have you been following me?”

Rio’s eyes went wide as she tried to step back. Agatha tightened her hold, clicking her tongue.

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” Rio replied.

Agatha turned her head, her face an inch from Rio’s.

“I suppose he hired you. For a PI, you don’t lie very well. Do I make you nervous?” she asked with a cocky smile.

“I.. n…” Rio stuttered before sighing, “Yes. He hired me. I’m sorry.”

A bit of worry and fear flashed in Agatha’s eyes at the confirmation. Defeat settled into her posture.

“Well, I guess I’m going to be out on the street. No way will my parents have a homosexual daughter in their home.”

“No,” Rio said, “As far as I’m concerned, I found you volunteering to help the homeless.”

“Really?” Agatha asked, stunned as a person who had never been given the benefit of the doubt.

“Really.”

“Thank you, Vera.”

“It’s Rio, actually,�� she said.

“Rio, that’s beautiful. Well, thank you Rio,” Agatha said, leaning in and kissing her cheek.

Rio’s blush returned, making her cheeks glow scarlet at Agatha’s touch.

“I’m sure you want to be anywhere but here, now that you don’t need to follow me, but I would like to buy you another drink if you’d like,” Agatha said.

“Sure,” she said, “I actually like it here… I mean, because it’s nice to not have men pawing at me…”

“Of course, Sweetheart,” Agatha said with a smirk.

She ordered them both whiskeys and handed one to Rio.

“Cheers,” she said, sipping hers.

The two talked for another hour. Agatha had Rio laughing and Rio captivated Agatha with work stories. The other people around them seemed to fall away as they only focused on one another in the crowded club.

Agatha rested her hand on Rio’s thigh as she laughed at a joke, kicking up a burst of panic within her. The entire night had been so wonderful but also so confusing.

“I should go,” Rio blurted out.

“O-Oh, okay,” Agatha said, crestfallen and retracting her hand.

“I just need to make sure I get some sleep,” she lied.

“Well, can I walk you out to your car? I mean, I already know what it looks like since I’ve seen it behind me all week.”

“I really need to work on tailing people…” Rio said, “Sure. I would like that.”

She walked outside with Agatha on the empty street, a single light illuminating the sidewalk. Agatha rested her hand on her lower back, guiding her toward the car. Rio felt more from that touch than she had from any kiss she shared with a man.

Once they reached the car, Rio turned to face her.

“Thank you for the drink,” she said.

“Thank you for not ratting me out,” Agatha said, “I really did enjoy your company, though.”

“I did too,” Rio said.

Rio leaned in, hugging Agatha. They held each other for a while, Agatha’s hand rubbing her back. She pulled back slightly to look into Rio’s eyes. Their noses brushed against each other. Rio felt something surrender within her. She closed the distance between them with a kiss. Agatha sucked on her lip, the kiss intensifying immediately.

Agatha pulled back, smiling with smeared lipstick, the two of their shades mixed.

“We should go somewhere less out in the open if we are going to continue this,” Agatha said.

“My place,” Rio said, her usual boldness finally returning to her.

“I’ll follow you for once.”

The two drove their respective cars to the brownstone Rio had bought years ago after her parents passed. She led Agatha inside. The other woman pulled her in by the hand and kissed her slowly, pouring every bit of tenderness she had into it.

“Bedroom?” Agatha whispered.

“Huh? Oh…” Rio asked, every thought having vacated itself.

She took her hand as she brought her upstairs, opening the door to her room. She turned on a lamp, turning to see Agatha stripping her jacket off. Rio walked towards her, taking her suspenders and pulling them down. She unbuttoned the rest of Agatha’s shirt while kissing her again. She felt Agatha reach around her and tug on her zipper, pulling it down to release her from her dress.

Rio was left in her stockings, garters, and brassiere. Agatha pulled back, shamelessly admiring her.

“Wow…” Agatha said softly.

Rio tried to avoid slouching or nervously playing with her hands. She was not used to being regarded in this way. Agatha kept her eyes on her as she stripped herself. Rio was rendered speechless in the presence of a beautiful woman naked in her bedroom.

“Wow…” Rio echoed.

Agatha crossed the room, cupping Rio’s cheeks in her hands. She began to lean in. Rio gripped her wrist with her hand.

“Agatha-“

“Yeah?” Agatha said, her eyes still on her lips.

“I’ve never..”

“Been with a woman before, I figured,” she said.

“Been with anyone before…” Rio said with an air of embarrassment.

Agatha looked into her eyes, taking in the new information. She ran her thumb over her cheek.

“Do you want to stop?” she asked.

“No… I just… thought you should know.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Agatha said with a smile, “We’ll go as slow as you want to.”

She leaned in, locking lips with Rio. She sat at the edge of the bed, pulling Rio to straddle her. She smoothly unhooked her bra, tossing it aside. Her hands cupped her breasts, earning a gasp from Rio. Sitting up, Agatha pressed her lips to her chest. She sucked on the skin beneath it and sucked hard. Rio whimpered at the delicious pain as she was marked.

Her hips rolled over Agatha’s as the more experienced woman teased and toyed with her. Her lips and teeth seemed to be everywhere, leaving love-bites wherever she could. Rio was left breathless once Agatha had claimed every available inch of her.

Agatha pulled back and looked at the flushed woman on her lap. Her lips had faded, smudged lipstick, her hair was mussed, and her eyes dilated. She looked ruined for the first time in her life and the fact that she had caused that fueled Agatha. She moved them, laying Rio down. She wanted to keep Rio’s stockings and garters on, so she elected to grip her panties, tearing the fabric. She tossed the scrap aside and kissed along Rio’s inner thigh, making her squirm.

Agatha was driving her to the edge of her sanity. She looked down at her as the other woman settled between her thighs. Rio’s mouth fell open as Agatha’s lips melted into her.

“Fuck! Agatha… please don’t stop…” Rio breathed.

Agatha moaned against her. The sounds of Rio’s pleading made her hungry for her. She circled her arms around her thighs. Her tongue explored her, parting her and sliding inside. Rio let out a yelp when Agatha found a certain spot hidden inside of her. She ground her tongue against it before pulling out. She pressed her lips to her clit, licking and then sucking on it. She slid a finger into Rio, being gentle while opening her up.

Rio was already embarrassingly close to cumming once Agatha began to fuck her. She felt her heart pounding against her chest, resounding in her ears. She gripped her sheets in her fists and twisted as her body gave in. A moan tore itself from her throat as her pleasure spilled over the edge.

Her body shook as she came down from her high. Agatha kissed her way up her front to her lips. She cupped Rio’s jaw and leaned down, kissing her with her arousal on her lips.

Agatha smirked as her hand stayed between her thighs, drawing out the aftershocks while watching Rio closely. Whimpers left Rio’s lips between shaking breaths. She held the gaze from Agatha’s blue eyes as she tried and failed to regain her senses.

There was a glint of mischief in Agatha’s eye as she slid a second finger into her, moving it slowly to allow her to adjust. Rio let out a shocked moan while Agatha sped her thrusts, her thumb working over her clit. Her pleasure built on top of her previous climax, quickly rushing to a new one.

“You’re being so good for me,” Agatha purred.

The praise washed over her, making her cunt clench around her. She felt her walls flutter around her fingers. Her breath caught, her brows bunching together as she looked into Agatha’s eyes. Agatha was left speechless at the sight of Rio cumming. She stroked her through her aftershocks again before sliding out of her.

Rio ran her hand along the length of Agatha’s side, stopping at her hip. She bit her lip before moving Agatha onto her back.

“Hey, tonight’s about you. You don’t need-“

“I want to,” Rio said, “Just… tell me what to do.”

Rio moved down between Agatha’s thighs, looking at her sex with nothing short of fear. She leaned in and ran her tongue along her slid, earning a whine from Agatha. The feeling of drawing that little bit of pleasure from her had Rio hooked. She gave her clit and cunt kitten licks, testing what worked and what didn’t.

“Inside… slide it inside…” Agatha moaned.

Rio did as she was told, the taste of desire exploding on her tongue. She moved and flexed her tongue, looking for her most sensitive spots. She finally found one that made Agatha buck her hips. She gripped her hips and pinned them to keep her from moving out of reach. She felt a hand in her hair while she fucked her with her tongue. Agatha’s grip made her grind herself against the mattress. She was pulled closer, nearly being suffocated in the most delicious way. Agatha panted faster before her thighs shook and her walls collapsed around Rio’s tongue.

Once the hand in her hair loosened, Rio came up from between her legs, her lips and chin slick with arousal. Agatha cupped her face and pulled her down. She kissed and licked the remnants of her own desire from Rio’s face. Rio held her close, the two of them falling into the same breathing rhythm.

“That was… thank you,” Rio whispered.

“I hope your first time was worth the wait,” Agatha murmured before capturing her lips in another kiss.

“It definitely was. Can I… see you again?” Rio asked with an edge of nervousness.

“I would love that,” Agatha said, kissing her forehead, “I do need to go before Ralph wakes up.”

“Right. Him,” Rio muttered.

“Tomorrow?”

“Where?”

“If you’re any good at your job, you’ll be able to find me.”

————————————

6 months later…

Rio had spent every moment Agatha could get away from the house with her. She fell quickly and deeply in love with the other woman. She knew she would always need her in her life.

She waited in her car with a long ranged lens, her camera aimed at a motel. A man walked out with a half-tucked shirt and a woman half his age. She leaned up and kissed him, his hand gripping her ass.

A smile broke out over Rio’s lips at the sight as she snapped a number of pictures. She drove off and met Agatha at the club.

“So?” Agatha asked.

“You have enough to petition for divorce,” she said.

Agatha beamed at her, nearly tackling her with a hug. The two had agreed to have Agatha move in with Rio once the divorce was granted. The two would run the business and spend their lives together. Agatha pulled Rio into a deep kiss.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” she whispered against her lips.

“I’m the lucky one,” Rio said back.

She pulled Agatha out to the dance floor as one of their favorite love songs played. The two danced, holding one another until closing time.

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please reblog it!

[jaemmphilia]

★ 𝘮𝘪𝘹𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘦: 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘵 ★ || han j.s

★ summary: after cleaning up the amazing dinner you all had, you, chan, han, and jeongin walk to the convenience store to get some drinks. you stick close to han, thanking him for being such a sweetheart to you. the four of you get back to the house, and then the nine of you relax by the fire pit. one too many drinks later, you end up tangled in han's embrace.

★ characters: bang chan, lee know, changbin, y/n (he/him pronouns and a masculine frame), hyunjin, han, felix, seungmin, i.n

★ warnings: alcohol, drunk skz, drunken sex, unprotected sex (don't be like them, guys), they're falling in love your honor, the reader is the bottom in this one, sorry not sorry

★ word count: 3.8K (3587)

★ binnie's thoughts: welcome to part three of the mixtape: black diamonds series! we're almost to the end of the series and i'm a little sad...but no worries, i have another series coming soon!

★ requested?: X

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so enjoy! this part contains smut, so minors do not interact!

“Alright, everyone text me what kind of drink you kids want!” 

Chan’s voice rings out through the house, and you can hear various replies from the members who aren’t coming along. You shrug on your coat, watching as Han tugs on his shoes next to you. 

At first you didn’t want to walk to the convenience store, but when Han notified you that he was tagging along, you jumped up eagerly (you nearly fell when you jumped, but you played it off real smooth). You’ll take any opportunity you can get if it means you get to spend time with the younger male. 

You slip on your shoes, standing by the door with Jeongin, waiting for your leader to lead you all to the corner store. Once the oldest male appears, the four of you venture out into the biting nighttime air. You shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself. You didn’t really expect it to be so cold out tonight, or else you would have brought a bigger jacket. 

Suddenly, you feel light warmth at your right side, and you look over to see Han walking beside you. There’s not much room in between you both, maybe about the width of a toothpick’s worth of room. You flash him a smile, and he gives you one in return. Jeongin and Chan walk a few feet ahead of you, the two of them locked in conversation. 

You and Han walk beside each other, your arms touching occasionally due to the close proximity you two are in. You playfully nudge his arm, making him stumble to the side dramatically with a soft laugh. He nudges you back, and it goes back and forth for a bit. The two of you stop, giggling like little schoolgirls talking about crushes. 

On the topic of crushes, you find yourself stealing short glances at Han whenever he’s near you. You often take in his appearance: his ashy gray hair, his naturally tan skin that reminds you of the summers in Georgia. His smile, gummy and wide, his eyes crinkling into squinty crescents. His laugh, so loud and joyous, it makes your heart swell. You want to make sure he’s always smiling and laughing, you never want to see him sad. You don’t want to admit that you have a crush on the younger male, considering that you’ve really only known him for a couple of hours. But you can’t deny what your heart feels, so maybe you’ll just keep your feelings to yourself until you feel that the time is right. 

“So, how did you feel about being put into the group like this? I’m just a little curious.” Han asks once you both stop nudging each other. You think about his answer for a second before replying.

“At first I was upset. I trained for three years, hoping that I would be put into a group, each and every one of us climbing the ladder to success. I was hoping to debut just like everyone else, having to get to know my group mates and finding out if our dynamics will work or not. I didn’t want to be shoved into a group that was already so close-knit.” you reply, keeping your eyes glued to the rocky street under your shoes. You kick a small rock, watching as it rolls a few short inches in front of you. 

Han hums as he listens to you, taking in your words. He may not understand exactly how you feel, but he understands that being thrown into a group that’s at the peak of its career can be quite scary for one person. At first he was iffy about having a stranger join his found family, but the more he talks to you, the more he wants to get to know you as a person. 

He wants to know everything. Your favorite color, favorite food, favorite animal. Are you a morning or night person? Do you have any hobbies? Do your freckles go past your face, do you have any on your body? Do you have more beauty marks that litter your body? 

Do you whine when someone touches your soft skin?

Han shakes his head in shock. Where in the hell did that come from? He doesn’t know what came over him just now, he’s never really thought about anyone like that before, especially not someone he’s just met. He fights the red hue that creeps up his neck and ears. 

He notices your eyes on him, and he opens his mouth to reply, but you beat him to it. “Han-ah, your ears are super red. Is it too cold out for you?” you say to him, a slight tease to your voice. 

He slaps his hands over his ears, shaking his head in denial. “No! I’m perfectly fine!” He defends himself with a huff followed by a cute pout. You laugh at him as you notice the bright lights of the corner store come into view. You speed up a bit to catch up with Chan and Jeongin. The three of you enter the little store as Han hangs a bit behind. This guy is going to be the death of me, he thinks to himself as he speeds up to follow you into the store. 

You walk up and down the drink aisle, taking in all the options. You wish you had some money, because there’s a strawberry margarita drink that’s calling your name. You huff and search for Chan. Once you find him, he gives you a confused look.

“Did you not want a drink?” he asks, reaching up to grab a drink for one of the other members. You tilt your head.

“No, I don’t have any money.” you say, lightly scratching your arm due to light nervousness. 

“Don’t worry about it. The company is paying for it.” Chan replies with a cheeky wink, grabbing another drink and placing it in his little shopping basket. He chuckles as you rush off to grab the drink you want. He takes the drink from you as you walk out of the store with Han and Jeongin. He remembers being very iffy about you joining the group, but now that he’s gotten to actually talk to you and he’s heard your story, he finds himself wanting to protect you. Even if he’s not an actual father, it just feels natural to him. Call it a father’s intuition, if you will.

You stand outside the corner store with Han and Jeongin, and you’re showing Jeongin some pictures of your pet hedgehogs, named Sonic and Amy (Amy isn’t even a female hedgehog, but that doesn’t matter to you), the two younger males cooing and fawning over the spiky little creatures. Once you all see Chan stepping out of the store, you turn your phone to face him. 

“Chan-hyung, look at my pets back home!” you say in English, your smooth southern accent thick as you speak. You scroll through the hundreds of pictures you have of Sonic and Amy in your gallery. Chan just chuckles, finding your adoration for the small animals cute. 

“They’re super cute. Do you miss them?” Chan asks as he starts walking back to the house they’re staying in. Somehow the hefty plastic bag gets passed to Han, who dramatically complains about the weight of the bag. Jeongin just laughs, ignoring his hyung’s cries. 

You shake your head at Han before you turn your attention back to the oldest male. “Yeah, they live back with my ma and pa. I wish I coulda taken them with me, but they woulda hated travellin’ all the way here.” you say, stuffing your chilly hands into the pockets of your puffy jacket. 

Han listens to you speak in English, and he picks up how you pronounce the words. He notices that it’s totally different from how Chan and Felix pronounce English words. He’s never heard an accent like yours, it sounds like butter, or the smoothest caramel being drizzled over an icy bowl of ice cream. He wants you to whisper in his ear, so he can pick apart your accent in a more intimate setting. He wants you to say his name, wants to hear you tell him that he’s doing a good job at pleasing you. He tries to rid himself of those thoughts, but it’s impossible when you’re having a pleasant conversation with Chan just a few steps in front of him.

Han feels Jeongin saddle up beside him. He already knows the younger is going to say something totally obvious. 

“You like YN-hyung, don’t you?” He says, the slyest of smiles painting his face as he looks at Han. Han sputters in shock at the younger male’s bizarre accusation. 

“Wha– no way! We just met him today!” Han defends himself, crossing his arms across his broad chest. Jeongin just snorts out a laugh, not believing a word that comes from his hyung’s mouth. 

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, hyung.” Jeongin doesn’t comment on it after that. But now he has some juicy gossip to tell Seungmin once he gets to the house. 

The four of you finally arrive at the house with the drinks. You step into the house, sighing deeply at the warmth that engulfs you. You slip off your shoes and tug off your jacket. You make your way into the house, following Chan as he goes to the area where the fire pit is. Han follows behind you as he slips on the slippers he was wearing previously. 

The nine of you are sitting around the fire pit, Han is to your left while Felix is at your right. You have a thick blanket draped on your lap, the other ends of the blanket draped over Han and Felix’s laps. You’re nice and cozy in your chair, your sweet drink in your hand as you listen to Changbin tell some story about his childhood. 

He’s yelling about something his sister had done to him back when he was younger. You can tell he’s becoming more drunk, his neck is starting to turn a little red and he’s kind of stumbling over his words. 

Honestly, you’re starting to feel a little tipsy yourself. You’ve never been amazing at holding your alcohol, but you don’t get shit-faced after two drinks like other people. But you can’t deny the light feeling in your bones, the sweet but artificial taste of strawberries lingering on your tongue. 

As you all begin to finish your first drinks, some of the boys retire for the night. The two youngest are the first ones to leave, and Hyunjin follows them not long after. You and the remainder of the boys are all talking and drinking, you’re telling them the story of how your twin sisters locked you outside of the house as a dog chased the three of you down the street. 

“So I trip and fall flat on my face, and the older twin, Baehwi, just ran faster towards our house. The younger twin, Dagum, she ran track at the time, was already at the house and she was holding the door open for Baehwi. I’m laying on the concrete, my nose is gushing blood, and there's a massive dog coming my way,” you say, sitting up in your seat as you retell the story, “I manage to get up and run to the house, but my knees are all scraped up and i’m still stumbling.

“I finally make it to the door and I try to open it, but it’s locked. I was freaking out and banging on the door, crying and bleeding from my nose. The dog is pretty damn close now, and it’s inches away from biting my ass. But my dad came to my rescue, he opened the door and chased the dog off with a broom. Now I’m terrified of big dogs.” You finish your story, bringing your drink to your mouth, tipping the can up, finishing the rest of the sweet liquid. 

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Changbin slurs his words as he nearly falls over in his chair with a strangled shout, making you all laugh. 

You all miss the devious look on Lee Know’s flushed face as his brain plots something. “How about I start us off?” He asks as he sets his empty drink down. He’s got this smile on his face that just screams that he’s up to no good. 

“YN, truth or dare?” 

You turn towards him when you hear him say your name. You’ve never been one to turn down a dare, so you grin at Lee Know. “Dare.” you say with full confidence.

Lee Know grins wider and crosses his arms with his eyebrow cocked. “I dare you to sit on Han’s lap for the rest of the game.” He says, earning a round of gasps and ‘ooh’s’ from everyone else. 

“That’s it? That’s too easy.” you say and get up from your seat, and you plop yourself down on Han’s lap. 

Han absolutely malfunctions. You just sat yourself on his lap as if it was the most normal thing in the world. You’re seated right on his half-hard dick and you wiggle a little to get comfortable. He bites back a moan as your ass rubs against him. He bites his bottom lip, and his hands automatically wrap around your middle as you finally get comfy. Han knows he’s a little drunk and undoubtedly very horny, because he adjusts his hips and he knows you can feel his dick through his pants and the blanket. 

“You look mighty comfortable, YN-ah,” Lee Know says, his gaze zeroed in on Han and his red-tinted cheeks and ears, “are you comfortable too, Hannie?” he teases.

Han grits his teeth at his hyung and just gives a thumbs up. 

The game continues, each of you doing stupid dares and answering stupid questions. You and Han remain by the fire pit, everyone else retired to bed. You’re still seated on his lap, but you’re facing him now. Your arms are around his neck, your chest flush against his as you lay your head on his shoulder. His hands are placed on your ass, his fingers lightly gripping the meaty flesh. 

You lift your head from his shoulder and you look at him. You take in his features, the shape of his eyes, to his cupid’s bow. You think he’s so handsome, especially like this: red-faced and his hair all messy. You run your hand through his hair as he looks up at you. You exchange smiles before you find yourselves leaning on closer. It’s not much longer until your lips are meeting in the middle. At first the kiss is just an experimental press, until you start to move your lips against Han’s. 

The two of you kiss for a bit until it becomes a full-blown make out session. The two of you are pretty much humping each other in the chair meant for one person. You’re grinding your hips against his, and you can feel his hands roaming your torso under your teal sweater. His hands are cold compared to your warm skin. It makes you shiver. 

You finally pull away from Han, lightly panting as you stare at each other. You both break out into giggles, neither of you believing that you just made out like it was nothing. 

“Why don’t we take this inside? We can use my room,” you offer, your fingers tangling in his ashy gray strands of hair. Han looks up at you, a dumb grin painted on his face. You snort out a laugh, “why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Because you’re just so pretty and hot sitting on my lap and kissing me. It’s driving me crazy.” He says, his eyes closing when he finishes talking. 

You shake your head and remove yourself from his lap. He lets out a whine followed by a pout, his eyes opening once again. This man is definitely not beating the babygirl allegations, you think to yourself as you pull Han up and out of the chair. His body slumps against yours, his head in your neck. You feel him place wet, open mouth kisses on your skin, making your knees a little weak (they’re already weak because of the alcohol, but who cares). 

“Come on, I’m horny and want you inside me like, right now.” You say to Han, and those words alone make him perk up and drag you inside the house. He makes a beeline for your room at the end of the hall. He throws the door open, pushing you inside, gently, and locks it once you’re both inside.

You stumble a little as the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed. Han makes quick strides towards you and he connects his lips with yours as he pushes his chest against yours. His hands are on both of your cheeks as he shoves his tongue in your mouth. You move your lips against his, your own tongue gliding against his. You can taste the sweet and semi-bitter essence of the alcohol he was drinking not long ago. 

The two of you keep making out in a different position. Han is hovering on top of you, his lips not leaving yours for a second. His chilly hands are rubbing shapes along your naked chest, your shirt long gone in the corner of the room. Han grinds his hips against you, his hard cock slides against yours through your black sweatpants. 

Han pulls away from the kiss to breathe. He looks down at your face, your eyes half-closed, your lips glossy with his saliva mixed with your own. Your chest is heaving slightly, trying to keep up with Han’s eagerness. You’re dizzy, your head is spinning with lust and intense amounts of need. 

Han tugs off his shirt, tossing the fabric behind him, not caring where it lands. You bring your hands up, gripping his pecs which makes him let out a soft groan. You grin, pinching his skin near his nipples. His mouth falls open, the slight pain from the pinches making him moan softly. You finally pinch his nipples, rolling them between your fingers. You drink in the whines he’s letting out, the sound no different than the sweetest music. 

After playing with his chest for a bit, you both move on to the good stuff. You both rid yourselves of any remaining clothes, and Han flips you onto your stomach. He grabs your hips and lifts them up until your hole is level with his face. You allow yourself to be manhandled by him, the feeling of his hands gripping your flesh tightly. 

“Your skin is so soft, and you smell so good all over,” Han says, his cool breath fanning your hole, causing you to clench a bit, “even here.” You feel his tongue prod at your hole. 

You jerk forward a bit, but Han tugs you right back to him. He holds your hips tight to make sure you don’t get away from him again. He licks at your hole some more, until he slips the tip of his tongue inside you. You whine out, the sound mostly muffled by the pillow under you. 

He works you open with his tongue and fingers until he deems you ready for his fat cock. He’s so hard that it’s becoming painful. His tip is damn near purple, a bead of precome gathering at his slit. He pulls away from your ass, wiping his mouth to rid himself of the slobber. He admires the view in front of him: your head is down, ass up in the air. The flesh of your ass is tinted red from how hard he was gripping onto you. Your hole is slick with his spit, your cock and balls hanging heavy in between your thighs. He can see the precome dripping from your tip, the semi-thick liquid falling on the bed. Your body is shaking as you breathe out. 

Han decides not to use a condom, he’s too drunk to care about using one. He just gets on his knees, lining his hard cock up with your hole. He pushes the tip in first, drinking in the noise you let out. A high pitched whine mixed with a moan. He allows you to adjust to the feeling, waiting for you to give him the green light. 

“Sunige,” you whine out, raising up to look at him over your shoulder, “please, move..” 

Who is he to deny his adorable hyung of that? He would be considered a monster. He slides his entire length inside you, his tip lightly kissing that spot deep inside you. You bite into the pillow under you, drool falling from your mouth. Han scoffs and reaches forward, tugging your hair. He pulls your head up, causing your back to arch. 

“Who told you to hide your moans in the pillow?” he asks, his voice harsh and commanding. It catches you off guard (especially after he just snatched you by your hair..). 

You cry out as he slowly starts to thrust his hips inside you. He still has a nice grip on your hair, your back arched as he rocks into you. “I’m sorry, Sungie.. I won’t do it again.” 

“Damn right you won’t. I’m the one in charge right now.” He growls out and he slams his hips forward and back, causing your body to jerk forward from the amount of force. 

He keeps pounding into your body, and you’ve already come twice. You can tell he’s holding back, not wanting to cum too early. You just happen to be more sensitive, which always leads to multiple orgasms on your end. You do feel his thrusts become sloppy, and his breathing picks up. You know he’s close, and you can feel a third orgasm creeping in your bones. 

“Holy shit. You’re just sucking me in, baby.” He says, giving a few more thrusts before he buries himself deep inside you, his warm cum filling you up. 

Your poor arms give out from under you, your upper body collapsing on the bed. You’re panting, trying to come down from such an intense moment. Han remains inside you, a little afraid that if he does pull out, you’ll start dripping all over the bed. He pulls out, quickly bringing his hand to your ass, cupping around your hole just in case anything does fall out. He reaches over to get some tissues and he starts cleaning you up. 

When he realizes that you haven't moved, his semi-drunk brain thinks he killed you. He frantically moves to see if you are indeed still alive, he lets out a breath of relief. You’re alive, snoozing away. He’s amused, you fell asleep so quickly after all of that exertion. 

“Well, sweet dreams, YN-hyung.” He chuckles and makes himself comfortable under the blankets with you. You automatically latch onto him, nuzzling into his warm body, still very much asleep. 

You don’t know what this means for the two of you, but that’s a conversation for sober YN and Han. 

[covetyou]

send in the clown

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: clowns, dubcon, unprotected P in V, anal play, grinding, titty play (clown motorboating), drug use, hotboxing, the shoes stay on, unconventional use of grease paint word count: 4.1k summary: You lose your scarf on a visit to the carnival. Send in Dieter Bravo - washed up actor turned circus clown.

A/N: Happy Halloweekend, friends! Originally this was going to be some dark evil fic with a murderous clown and some non-con, but basically I can't do that. So here you have washed up actor clown Dieter instead, and he's going to rock your world. You're welcome.

This is not inherently scary, but probably something to avoid if you really hate clowns. It's essentially just clown porn. I'm not sorry.

10 points to anyone who can spot the Oscar.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

Want Dieter at the carnival, but don't want the clowns? Check out Candy by @secretelephanttattoo

Loud noises and knives and fire and bodies bent into strange shapes.

It sounded more like a horror movie down on paper, but the lights and music were dazzling, amazing, turning something terrifying into something beautiful.

You sipped too sweet drinks and munched on overpriced snacks as you watched on with your friends, laughing and gasping with them as the sights before you unfolded. A tiny woman bending herself over backwards, shooting apples off of people's heads with a bow and arrow clenched in her delicate feet. A couple swinging through the air, no wire in sight, fabric fluttering along behind them as they flew. Sword swallowers, fire breathers, acrobats, magicians, clowns.

Clowns.

You were mesmerized by it all, taken in so completely, that when you all stumbled out after several hours and made your way home, you didn't even notice you'd left your scarf until you moved to pull it off as you stepped in your front door. They weren't in town for long, things like this never were, so you turn around and head back to your car, driving back the way you came until the big top comes back into view.

It had been almost an hour since you left and the parking lot was mostly empty now, save for a few cars closer to the entrance. The sign was no longer illuminated, but lights shone brightly from inside the gate as a handful of people bustled around, packing up for the night.

You make your way to the ticket booth, spotting a grizzly old man with a toothpick between his teeth closing up, pulling a small box filled with ticket stubs and loose change out from the desk.

"We're closed," he grumbles, not bothering to look at you as he turns the key, locking the booth, and stomps away.

"I know," you shout, feet squelching in a wet patch of grass as you stumble after him. "I lost something, left it here. Do you have a lost and found?"

He stops, eyes you up, then sends you inside, directing you to an open sided tent. You walk in semi-darkness, listening out for the shouts and jokes of the cast and crew ending their day.

Two people sit there, feet up on a box and cards in hand. One has a threadbare sweater thrown on over a skimpy lyrca outfit adorned in sequins, the other looks like he could have been in the audience if it wasn't for the peak of tattoos from the top of his hoodie and across his hands.

They don't notice you standing there, so you clear your throat. Sequins is just about to play a card, but halts mid way through the movement and looks up, raising his painted on eyebrows at you.

"We're closed," Tattoos repeats, not bothering to turn to look your way.

"I lost a scarf. Was told to come here," you explain. You just want your scarf back.

Sequins slaps the card down on the box then sits back, eyeing you up and down just as the grizzled old man did, crossing his toned arms over his chest. "What's it look like?"

"Woolen, red and brown kind of checks. It's pretty big, almost like a blanket?"

Tattoos scoffs, finally turning to look at you. "Oh yeah, that one. Bravo the Clown took it. No one ever comes back for shit they lose at the circus, toots. If you want it back you're gonna have to go ask him."

"Okay, and where can I find this Bravo the Clown."

They send you off to a trailer on the other side of the camp. You hear their laughter as you turn your back and walk away, squelching back through patches of wet grass that hadn't been boarded over.

The trailer is worn and old, a colorful tarp covering the front window and stapled into the ground. "Bravo" is scrawled on the door in sharpie, scribbles of other color around it so it looks like the name has exploded from the door. There's a faint light from inside, and you can hear music playing, but there's no answer when you knock.

You try the handle, the door opening a crack before jamming. You tug harder, and the door swings open, nearly knocking you down onto the wet ground.

Smoke billows out. You almost think there's a fire when you smell something earthy and herbal. Definitely not a fire.

You call out over the music, a repetitive carnival jingle, and when there's no response, you climb up the few steps and step foot into the trailer of Bravo the Clown.

It's dark inside, the smoke barely cleared and the tarp masking any light from outside in a red haze. The herbal stench in the air is thicker inside, covering the stale musky smell of sweat and dust.

When your eyes adjust to the dark through the haze of smoke, you see the place is a mess. Wigs of all shapes and colors are thrown haphazardly onto a crooked shelf on the wall, something shiny hidden behind a puff of rainbows. Shoes litter the walkway, and clothes and costume pieces are strewn over a bench seat. There's a patch where it looks like someone has been sitting, and next to it, your scarf, screwed tight into a messy ball and pushed down into the rest of the clothing.

You approach, going to grab your scarf and leave, when you're distracted by a long mirror sitting to one side, a worn chair in front of it. There's a vanity where brushes and pallettes are thrown, pots of grease paint left open and discarded.

You drag your fingers across the worn wooden vanity. Picking up one pot of paint - a vibrant white - you are moments from swiping your finger across the pristine surface when a gruff voice startles you.

"What the fuck?!"

You spin, paint falling from your hand and clattering to the ground. Stood there is a half man, half clown, joint perched between his lips, makeup smudged over his face. His hair is sweaty, sticking up at all angles, wig nowhere to be seen. You cast your eyes down him. An oversized striped shirt is pulled open, graying undershirt beneath on show, sweat stains at the armpits and a wet patch on the hem. His red pants are unbuttoned, slung low on his hips, his suspenders unclipped at the front and hanging down low behind him. Large shoes jut out from the bottoms, bulbous and curving slightly upward.

"What the fuck are you doin' in here," he says from around the joint, throwing his hands up in the air.

You stumble over your words, stuttering a few times before you can spit it out. He looks at you like you're stupid, like you're the one with paint smeared over your face.

"I- I lost my scarf. They said you had it, I'm sorry, I-"

"What? Do you think breaking and entering is okay because I'm a fuckin' clown," he yells, pulling the door closed and slamming it hard when it gets jammed again.

He stalks toward you, blowing a puff of smoke into your face, making your eyes water, before he flops down into the worn chair in front of the vanity. It creaks as he stretches back, the tip of one of his too big shoes running up your leg.

"Do you think stealing is okay because you're a clown?" you retort, hands on your hips, shaking your head in disbelief. You never pictured your evening ending in an argument with a half-dressed clown.

More smoke puffs from his mouth as he laughs at you, face contorting strangely as he smiles with a down turned red mouth smeared across his own.

"What're you going to give me," he says, pulling his shirt off and throwing it onto the pile on the bench.

"What?"

He takes another long drag on his joint, and lets the smoke billow from his lungs before he sits back and replies. "For the scarf. What's it worth to you."

You watch his hand stroke down his belly, past the wet patch on his t-shirt and down to the front of his pants. He adjusts himself, rolling his hips as he palms his cock through the fabric.

You swallow a lump in your throat. Maybe it's the smoke going to your head, the haze of the room making you feel stuffy and floaty, clouding your judgement. Or maybe you've always had a fucking thing for clowns, you flithy b-

"Anything," you say, before you can stop yourself. He laughs, throwing his head back as he flicks ash onto the floor.

"Then take that coat off and come here. Show me them pretty tits."

You unbutton your coat, throwing it onto the bench with your scarf. You look down, thick sweater obstructing any view he'd have of your chest, and decide to yank that off too, pulling it over your head and discarding it with your coat. You take a deep breath, lungs filling with smoke and the sweaty smell of Bravo the Clown, before you pull down your tank top and bra, pushing your tits out of their cups and exposing them to the cold air.

"Can I have my scarf back now?"

"No! I want a closer look," he pats his lap, visible tent now forming in his red pants. "Come sit down on Bravo the Clowns lap, sugar tits," he says with husky laugh.

You shuffle forward trying not to trip over his shoes as you wonder how you'll perch on his lap with his knees spread so wide. You don't have long to think when he grabs you by the hand and pulls you onto him, your knees straddling either side of his thighs on the chair. It creaks and groans, and you shift on him, terrified the old chair is going to collapse with the weight of you.

He takes a final long drag from his joint, before snuffing it on the vanity and blowing the rest of the smoke into your face. You cough and splutter, blinking back watering eyes, when two large hands come up and grab your tits, massaging them as your chest heaves.

"Nice."

You blink again and look down to see him smiling at your tits, nodding as he massages them. He squeezes them together, watching as the skin squishes and puckers under his fingers. His hands are rough, fingernails painted with chipped polish that glitters in the dim lighting of his trailer. The grimace painted onto his face a stark contrast to the man underneath having the time of his life.

He's entranced, looking at your tits as he squeezes them. Painted fingertips come and pinch your nipples, pulling at them and making you gasp. Your back arches as he tugs, jiggling both as he pinches and laughing as they ripple with the movement. Your hips shift forward, nudging the hardness in his pants, and you fight to still yourself and not grind against him.

Before you know it, he's mashing your tits together again and shoving his face between them, rubbing the scruff of his jaw across your delicate skin, smearing paint all over your chest. He breathes in, and you feel him start to nip and suckle at your flesh as he rubs from side to side, burying his face in you as you push your hips down hard onto his cock.

As quick as he started, he flops back with a sigh, letting your tits fall heavy from his grasp. He smiles serenely as he looks at his handiwork, white and red and blue smeared into a mess of lavender across your tits.

"Think you liked that as much as I did," he taunts, gesturing to where your crotch sits flush against his stiff cock. "Shame you're in so many fuckin' layers." He runs a hand up your thigh, pinging the thickness of your tights against your leg before fingers play with the edge of your skirt where it's bunched around your thighs. He tugs it higher, pulling it to your waist.

He slides his hands back down, thumbs tracing down the front of your tights, teasing the apex of your thighs. One hand holds you there, stopping you from rocking into him again, whilst the other slides between you, rubbing broadly over your damp, covered crotch.

You close your eyes, letting him massage your pussy with his large hand, the sensation muted by so many layers. You rock into his palm as you float along on his lap, lost in his heavy breathing and the monotonous music still jingling along in the background.

He starts muttering, playing with the waistband of your tights, looking for a better way in, a way to get to your cunt that means you don't have to get off his lap. Your eyes snap open, you watch as he shrugs, a wicked smile pulling smeared makeup across his face. He pulls at your tights, gripping in both hands, tearing the fabric and exposing your inner thighs and panties to him. You can't help but moan as you feel his hand find your bare skin, and push against the wet front of your panties.

He lets out a low whistle, he'd barely touched you and you're dripping, grinding against his hand. "I can do one better than my hand," he says, waggling his eyebrows and looking down to his crotch. He's fully hard now, tent more impressive than the big tops outside.

Before he can say another word, you're reaching for his pants, pulling the zipper down and fishing out his rock hard length. He pulls both his arms back holding them up in mock surrender.

"Woah, woah!" he laughs.

You start to stroke his cock, pumping up and down, drawing the precum dripping from his tip over your palm and down his length with each stroke. He's watching you as you play with him, teasing his tip, reaching down into his red pants with your other hand to stroke his balls. They're heavy in your hand and sticky with sweat, but you squeeze them as you jerk him, making him groan, throw his head back and grip the arms of his chair.

Your pussy is cold without his hand, neglected. You don't want to let go of the weight of him, so you rub his tip over the front of your soaked panties, dragging it over your clit and applying pressure as you circle it with his head. You need more, more friction, so you hold him against you, rocking your hips against one side of him as your palm holds him to you in the other.

"Oh, hell yeah. Are you gonna come just from grinding on me?!" he says in disbelief, listening to your desperate moans as you jerk him against your pussy.

"No," you gasp, watching a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face over the layer of greasy paint. The look of him alone is almost sending you stratospheric - the hair, the paint, the sweat - but the friction against your pussy isn't enough. "I want to put it in me."

He looks like he's won the lottery, wide eyes and thrilled face covered in paint nodding back at you, gesturing down to his dick as if to say help yourself.

You yank your panties to the side as you rock your hips into his cock, still holding him tight to you. Your slick pussy glides up and down his length, his head rubbing directly over your clit with each cant of your hips. You're moaning, wiggling on him as he watches straight down at his cock gliding against your bare cunt.

"Do you have a...?" you say, looking around the room for anywhere where he might stash a condom.

"Nope," he says, popping the P. "If you want it, you gotta take it like this."

You don't even consider any other option, you simply plunge your two middle fingers deep inside you, gathering your slick before smearing it around yourself and down the other side of Bravo the Clown's cock. You raise up on your knees, the chair creaking again as you move, and tease him against your entrance before taking him inside you.

"Oh, Bravo," you moan as you sink down onto his cock.

"Thank you, I'm here 'til Tuesday," he jokes, miming a bow from where he's seated. You bet he uses that on everyone. You soon wipe the smug grin off his face when you lift up and slam back down onto him, moaning his name once again before you begin fucking yourself on him in earnest. "Fuck."

"Dieter," he whines as you bounce on him, chasing a high that seems so out of reach with the high already muffling your head, "Name's Dieter."

"Dieter," you groan, bottoming out and groaning as you rock your hips over him, his cock seated deep in you.

"Fuck yeah, that's it," he grunts, clown shoes planted flat on the floor giving him leverage to pound up into you as you meet his every thrust. The chair is creaking, the trailer shaking, your lavender colored tits bouncing with each pound. His glazed over eyes watch them bounce in front of his face, a frown knitting his brows together and creasing the paint slathered on his skin as he tries to focus on your jiggling breasts. You think you see him go cross eyed as he tries to look at both of your nipples at once.

You're about to reach your hand down, circle your clit and bring yourself over the edge when arms wrap around you pulling you toward him, face falling into his neck. You can smell him more strongly here, the smell of sweat and weed clinging to him like a second skin. He holds onto your ass as he pounds up into you, pulling your cheeks apart. From this angle you can feel the grind of his hair against your clit with every thrust, and you muffle your moan into his neck.

"Ohhhhh."

"Gonna have to give me more than that, ain't been long since I last came," he huffs into your ear as he pulls you apart. You can feel the slick smear of grease paint on the side of your face.

There's another loud rip, your tights being torn again, this time from behind to expose more of your ass. He slows down the roll of his hips into yours as he pulls you deeper, and deeper, letting you grind down onto him even easier, the rub of him against your clit almost perfect now. The feel of his throbbing cock deep in your pussy, rough hands pulling your ass open and the scratch of his pubic hair on your clit feel so good, but you can't quite get there, whatever end you're trying to reach chased away by the fuzz in your head.

You whine from his neck, shifting your hips, trying to see if another spot would work better. Bravo - Dieter catches on and you hear his voice rumble from his chest as you rock on his lap.

"What's your favorite color?"

Now hardly seems like the time to get to know each other, but you humor him. "Blue," you breathe, rubbing your nose against his cheek, the smell of grease paint strong.

"Blue it is."

One arm lets go of you and you hear something on the vanity. You keep rocking your hips, still so close but not close enough. He brings his hand back and you gasp at a foreign sensation between your cheeks.

It's thick and slick, swiping smoothly across your asshole. You moan and gasp against his face, halting your movements and lifting off him a fraction. He laughs, swiping his slicked finger back and forth over your ass, circling the tight ring before dipping a fingertip in just as he pulls you back down flush onto his cock.

It's intense, and you moan so loud Tattoos and Sequins can probably hear you.

"And that's improv," he says, grunting as he picks up the pace of his thrusts again.

"Fuck, more," you beg, as he slips more of his fingertip into your ass, fucking you hard now as you grip his neck and bring your face in line with his.

He laughs at you, panting with the effort of fucking you. "Oh you're freaky, I like it."

"Watch who you're calling a freak, clown." Your grip his neck, holding on for dear life, unphased by the spread of his face paint onto your own skin.

Both arms are wrapped around you, one feeling at your entrance where he pounds into you, creamy slick coating his fingers with each thrust, the other between your cheeks, finger hooked into your tight hole. His finger tugs at you with each bounce onto his cock, stretching you and making you feel fuller than you are. You tilt your hips again, clit colliding with his thick hair, gridning against you, and you see stars glitter around your vision. They're so close now, the haze in your brain diffusing the light as it draws closer and closer.

"Hnnnng, I'm so close," you groan, rubbing your nose against his.

"Fuck," he mumbles as you pull his mouth onto yours. You kiss him, moaning and grinding against his lap, his tongue flicking against the seam of your lips just as the stars align and burst in your vision.

You come with a deep groan into his mouth, clenching tight around his cock as he frantically pounds up into you, hips stuttering as sweat drips down his face. You feel him start to twitch and then his cock is slipping from you, the remnants of your own orgasm fading as his cock slides against the outside of your cunt and spurts thick ropes of cum up against his belly, catching the already damp hem of his t-shirt.

You sit, faces together, panting for a moment, kissing him again just before he slides his finger from your ass, wiping the slick onto your exposed skin. When he looks down at his spent cock, he groans and huffs.

"Not again. I like this shirt."

He tuts at himself, flopping his arms down and looking around for something to tidy up with. He gives up, instead grabbing a tin from the vanity, popping it open, and starts to roll another joint on his chest.

You take that moment to climb off him, covering your pussy with the scrap of fabric of your panties, tugging your skirt down and your tank top up to cover as much of you as you can. The paint on your chest will stain, but you'll think about that later.

You throw your coat back on, not bothering with your sweater or the mess on your face, when Dieter addresses you again.

"Don't forget your scarf."

You roll your eyes, casting an exasperated look at him only to see him looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

You take your scarf, unbunching it and immediately sticking your hand in something wet and sticky. Even in the darkness, you can tell it's almost definitely cum. You look over to Dieter, disgusted look on your face as he shrugs his shoulders.

"If I'd known you'd come here begging for some of this," he gestures down his slouched body, "I never would've done that sweet cheeks. That one's on you."

"You're an ass."

"I'm not an ass, I'm the one and only Bravo the Clown." He spreads his arms wide, looking obscene with his flaccid cock hanging out of his bright red pants, belly covered in cum and face paint smeared all over his face. He places the unlit joint between his lips and you walk past him, pushing open the door to his trailer and stepping outside into the clear air. You take a deep breath, head already feeling clearer when you turn back, a question on your lips.

He's stood at the door of his trailer, tucking his cock back in, looking even crazier now that your head is clearer.

"The music?" you ask. It'd been playing this whole time, the same tune over and over.

"It's called method acting, sweet cheeks," he says with a wink, lighting his new joint and tilting his head back to expel a plume of smoke into the night sky.

You laugh, you can't help it, the man is a caricature even of himself, but there's something so intoxicating about it.

"Goodnight, Dieter."

You walk back to your car to the tinkling of fairground music and Bravo the Clown's raspy laughter.

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[sunlightmurdock]

Blow By Blow | 1.4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big.

Warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni, smut, really brief oral (f), trauma for both parties

…

You yawn into the sleeve of your sweater, rolling your shoulders back and pursing your lips slightly as you scroll through the local events page. One of the issues that Bradshaw’s faces, is that not many people seem to take notice of what it is. It’s been here for thirty years, and most of the neighbours just assume that there’s trouble inside and walk on by.

It’s hard to blame them, when you hear stories of what the place used to be like. Of what Bradley used to be like.

But downtown isn’t what it used to be, there’s a big community here now, and it would do wonders for the gym to be involved in that.

Maverick’s office smells like cigarettes, even though he gave up smoking ten years ago. There’s a lamp on each of the two desks that illuminates the room in an aged, amber glow. It’s completely quiet, and has been since the gym shut an hour ago.

Jake glances up at you from over by Maverick’s desk. “I heard a rumour about you, you know.”

You lift your chin to look at him. Your cheeks grow warm at the cocky smirk on his face as he leans back in his chair and tucks his hands behind his head, flipping the toothpick in his mouth.

“I heard a rumour about you too.” You answer back quietly, a smile creeping its way onto your lips. Jake chuckles, his cheeks dimpling across the room.

“You and the big guy, huh?” Jake raises his eyebrows at you, giving an amused shake of his head as he stretches his legs out under the desk. Paperwork is the most boring part of his job, gossiping with you helps the time pass along.

“You and Natasha.” You answer back, smiling softly at him before you turn your gaze back to the computer.

“Well, what can I say? — She can’t get enough of me. But who can blame her?” He shrugs. You snort at him, shaking your head. You both know she would hit him in the nuts if she heard him say that. “Who can blame you, either. Rooster’s a good looking guy. And he’s hung like a horse.”

“Jake!” You splutter, eyes going wide, face burning as you gawk at him across the office. This time, he really laughs, beaming at how easy you are to fluster.

He sits back in his chair and cocks his head at you, like he’s trying to piece together the complex little puzzle that you are.

“I’m just playing,” He smiles across at you. It’s strange, sitting here and having this vulgar of a conversation with Jake, and wanting to smile back at him anyway. “Is he being nice to you or do I have to say something to him?”

Your mouth twitches. He almost gets you to crack a smile at him. Instead, you twist your mouth into a stern but amused smile.

“He’s alright when he wants to be,” You answer him, earning another soft chuckle from the gym manager. “How’s… Natasha?”

Jake presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and exhales, that smile still toying at his lips. “Alright. When she wants to be.”

You huff out a soft sound of amusement and turn your attention back to your work. Jake really doesn’t want to go back to his.

“Look, kid,” He swallows as he sits forwards and suddenly that smile is gone, his lips pressing into a line. “I’m happy for you. I am. And, call me selfish, but I like having you around here. I don’t want anything to ruin this place for you.”

Your nails tap away at the keyboard as you draft the email. “Anything… being Rooster, right?”

“He’s a big softie, I’m sure. But he’s a complicated guy.”

That seems to be everyone’s opinion of him. You know that it’s true. You’ve seen the scars that litter his body. You know that he’s afraid of being alone — his apartment has sat empty for most of his tenancy. It’s just that when he’s up close, and he’s looking at you with a soft smile on his lips and those endlessly deep big brown eyes; nothing really seems complicated at all.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to freak you out,” Jake shakes his head and scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck. Two little sisters and he still hasn’t figured out how to approach this conversation. “I just want you to be able to… talk to me, I guess.”

“I understand,” You nod softly, hitting send on the email and lifting your head to look at him. He tries at a smile. “Thanks, Jake.”

“Anytime, kiddo.” He shoots you a playful wink and tucks his chair into the desk, sitting upright as he starts to reason with the idea of actually finishing his paperwork so that he can head home at a reasonable time tonight.

“Alright, I’m gonna head in for the night. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Bright and early.” Jake confirms with a tired smile as you close your laptop and push up from the desk. You each separate with soft goodbyes, and you carry your laptop upstairs to your apartment.

Just as you’re expecting, the lights are already on and there’s a football game playing on your TV. What you’re not expecting, though, is to see Tank and Rooster’s heads pop up from over the back of the couch together.

“Hey, Bam— oof—“ Rooster grunts as the dog suddenly pushes to his feet, pressing all of his weight into his ribs and hopping down onto the ground before walking around the couch to greet you with a wagging tail.

“Hi, boys,” You smile, crouching down to kiss Tank’s nose and scratch and his shoulders, babying the sixty pound animal like he deserves to be. “Was he laying on you just then?”

“Yeah. I laid down with a beer and he wanted to join me, I guess.” Rooster informs you as you set your things down by the door and walk over to the couch, leaning on the back. He smiles up at you, one arm tucked behind his head.

You grin at him, pushing yourself over the back of the couch and down against his body, your thighs straddling his hips.

“I can’t believe you’re both finally getting along.” You tell him, leaning forwards and planting a soft kiss to his mouth. Rooster’s hand trails along your back, sipping slightly under your sweater.

“He’s not so bad,” Rooster shrugs his shoulders, lifting his head and chasing your lips as you sit up against him. You push your open palms along his bare shirt, wondering silently to yourself how he can manage to be so warm all the time. “You get all your work done?”

Your lips twist up into a smile. “Uh-huh.”

His brows draw together as he leans out and sets the beer on the coffee table so that he can grab at your hips.

“What’s so funny?”

“Signed you guys up for a couple of local charity events over the next few weeks. Think it’ll be good press for the gym.” You explain, trailing your fingertips along the lines in his toned torso.

“What kind of events?”

“I’m gonna tell everyone on Monday. Wouldn’t be fair if you got the down low before everyone else.” You could tell him, really, but you’re in a good mood and it’s fun to tease him. He chuckles softly and considers arguing, squeezing his hands around the soft flesh of your waist.

His lashes brush his cheek as he blinks, bringing you securely with him as he shifts his hips.

“Will you promise me something before your fight tomorrow?” You ask him, leaning forwards and bracing your palms against his shoulders. He smiles softly.

It’s been playing on his mind recently, when he holds you tight in his arms at night. Whether or not this life he wants, and the past you’ve faced, are compatible in the slightest.

He knows how timid you get. The way your muscles go rigid at a raised voice, and the devastating way your eyes go wide when he gets too close too quickly.

“Sure.” He tells you, rubbing his thumbs in soft circles over the waistband of your skirt.

“Try not to mess this pretty face up too much. Pretty please.” You lean down over him, slowly, and press a soft kiss to the bump in his nose from a bad break years ago. Rooster watches as you sit back up again.

Your hair is loose and strands fall forwards, adorning your face. Attempting to hide that sheepish little smile from him.

He hasn’t been called pretty ever. Jake’s pretty. Movie-star smile and blonde hair, an angled jaw and stroking green eyes. Bradley was always too tall, and too skinny, until he wasn’t skinny anymore. He’s got scars on his face, all the way down his body. His lips aren’t quite even. His eyes are dark and angry looking. He’s not pretty.

“You’re the pretty one, Bambi,” He tells her with a firm shake of his head. He wets his lips with his tongue. “You don’t need to be worrying about my busted face.”

“Busted?” You scoff at him.

“Come on…” He groans, checks flushing red as he turns his head back towards the television. He can always feel it when something gets him blushing, and he hates nothing more. He knows how dark and angry his scars look when his skin flushed red.

“Bradley,” You frown at him, placing two fingers against his cheek and turning his head back towards you. A muscle in his jaw ticks. “I think you’re really pretty.”

“Get real, kid.” He huffs, sitting up and hooking an arm around you, tucking his hand under your ass. He stands swiftly, taking you with him with an impressive ease.

“Hey! Where are we going? — I’m not done complimenting you.” You secure your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, frowning as Bradley carries you forwards.

“I need to take a shower.” He tells you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple and planting your ass on the kitchen island. You wrap your legs tighter around his waist.

“… Um… By yourself?”

“Sorry, Bambi,” Rooster gives a heavy shrug of his wide shoulders, grabbing your ankles and unwrapping them from his waist, leaving you with a chaste kiss on the lips. “No sex before the big fight.”

Behind him, your mouth hangs open.

“Are you serious?”

His lips quirk softly as he pulls at the drawstring tie on his shorts, turning his head to look at you over his shoulders. “Unfortunately. It’s tried and tested. I fight better if I’m a little… frustrated.”

You just hum in response, watching him close the bathroom door behind him. As the door clicks shut, the idea drops into your mind. You get Tank his dinner, and head for the bedroom with a smile on your face.

Bradley secures the towel around his waist, stepping out of the shower with his hips decorated with fluffy white and pink pinstripe. He whistles the tune to Together in Electric Dreams as he combs his fingers through his damp curls and walks through to the bedroom he has spent more nights in than his own recently.

Then, he stops in the doorway. He glances back over his shoulder at Tank sitting on the couch, then back to you. Your brows drawn together, lips parted just slightly, your chest heaving.

“Bambi.”

Your eyes blink open, not so much as a whisper of surprise in either of your irises. Your lips twitch just slightly.

“Are you touching yourself?”

Your eyes squeeze shut again, purely because if you look at him for another second then you’re going to chicken out. “Don’t worry. I’m almost there.”

“But… I told you. I can’t — the fight.” Bradley stumbles over his words, reaching down and brushing the base of his palm over the stiffening tent under the towel. The sheets barely cover your waist, he can picture your exactly the way your legs are trembling right now.

Bradley swallows softly as you let out a contented sigh.

“You’re right. You can’t,” You tell him, trying to keep the smile off of your face as your fingers circle your clit. “Sorry. I thought I would be done before you finished your shower.”

That’s not true in the slightest. He knows you wanted him to find you, and he wishes he had a little more self-control. He’s already walking forwards, grabbing the covers and tearing them back.

You giggle as he drops his weight down on top of you, grabbing firmly at your hips and pulling you against him.

“Want some help?” He murmurs against your throat, sucking firmly at the sensitive skin there, knowing how it makes your brain just turn to mush.

“Yes, please.” You grin, reaching down between you, tugging swiftly at the towel wrapped around his hips and discarding it onto those chipped wood floors in this ancient apartment. Bradley grazes his teeth over your collarbone and shakes his head.

“No, no — I’m serious, until tomorrow, I’ve taken a vow of abstinence,” Bradley informs you calmly, rolling onto his back and grabbing roughly at your hips. “Now come here. Put this pretty face to use, huh?”

Your mouth drops open, eyes widening as he manhandles you over his chest and grabs two firm handfuls of your ass to drag you forwards.

“Rooster, wai— oh.” You hiccup, hands swinging forwards for purchase, just about catching on the squeaky metal frame of the bed. He buries his face between your legs, the freshly groomed hair on his upper lip, tickling the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. “Oh, wow.”

His lips twitch. The way his smirk feels against your throbbing clit is something that will be etched into your mind for years to come. He lifts his hand and swats at your ass, groaning against you as the soft flesh ripples in his hand.

As much as he enjoys this, he had to get you back at least a little for trying to tease him. All it does, surprisingly, is spur you on. You gasp out, moaning as your grip tightens around the bed frame.

His heavy hands hold you in place, keeping you firmly against him, just about giving you the freedom to move back and forth. He moans happily against your sensitive flesh as you grind yourself onto his mouth.

It doesn’t take long. Literally minutes of his deep sounds, his big hands and his oh, so talented tongue. You cum hard, practically losing your balance, soaking his chin as he holds you upright. Then, he swiftly rolls you off of him and plants you on your back.

You fight to catch your breath as Bradley pulls you back against him and wraps his arms securely around you. His erection presses into the skin of your ass, grazing briefly against some of the excitement that has spilled out onto your thighs.

“Tomorrow night, you’re all fucking mine. Got that?” He whispers, smiling against your earlobe. You press back into his chest, humming contentedly.

Tomorrow night rolls around quickly. But, you’re far from being naked, and far from being in your bed with Bradley cursing in your ear like you would like to be. Instead, you’re picking awkwardly at your cuticles and following Phoenix through a crowded warehouse. Event space. Whatever they want to call it.

It makes your skin prickle to know that Bradley could be leaving this room bloodied and bruised. You should be excited for him. You’ve seen him training. You know how badly he wants this. More importantly, you know what it will mean for his career if it goes badly.

Heel-toe, heel-toe — you focus on whatever your mind can grab at as you march through the buzzing crowd between Natasha and Jake. It’s not enough. Your heart is thudding and your stomach feels funny. You start to wonder if you’ll ever feel comfortable in a place like this.

You lift your head and examine the ring. The ropes are taut and the canvas looks much cleaner than the surface back at Bradshaw’s. You bite awkwardly at the inside of your cheek as someone catches your eye on the other side of the ring. She’s watching Natasha. Tall, and blonde, with piercing blue eyes. Staring like she has seen a ghost.

“You okay?” Phoenix taps your waist softly with her elbow, her smile fading as she studies the expression on your face. It’s not one that she has seen on you before. She can’t quite place it.

“Is that her?” You ask quietly, your voice almost getting lost in the sea of much louder conversations. Natasha turns her head and looks around the crowd, trying to figure out who it is that you’re staring at. Finally, she locks eyes on the woman on the other side of the ring.

There’s a puckered scar across the right side of her face. A burn, maybe. Natasha knows that it’s a third degree that required a skin graft. Even so, she’s beautiful. Tall, with neatly styled finger curls, and high cheekbones. Natasha knows that face well. Still, Bradley wouldn’t want you to know that.

“Is that who?” Natasha tries.

“Emilia.” You answer instantly, and her eyes widen.

Her brows draw together as she stops walking, rounding on you with a stern expression. Jake almost bumps into your back, looking confusedly between the two of you. Natasha frowns deeply, “Bradley told you about Emilia?”

“Mav did.” You answer her sheepishly.

“Oh.” Natasha closes her eyes for a minute and thanks whatever divine power kept Bradley in that locker room so that he didn’t hear this conversation. “Bambi, that’s — that wasn’t his place. He shouldn’t have done that. There’s a lot that Mav doesn’t understand.”

“What more is there to understand? — She’s a monster.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Natasha couldn’t disagree with you if she wanted to. She can’t pretend she hadn’t felt pleased when the news started to spread that Emilia had been in that fire. “But Mav doesn’t know the truth. He knows what the police told him.”

“What more is there to know?” You frown at her. Jake shifts uncomfortably behind you, adjusting the top button of his shirt. Natasha grits her teeth.

“I can’t tell you.”

You turn your head to gawk at Jake, then look back to her. “Bradley wouldn’t tell me if I asked him.”

“Don’t ask him. It’s better if you don’t know.” Natasha’s voice is firmer than it has ever been with you. She’s serious, and suddenly cold. She cares for you, enough to be mean when it’ll keep you from getting hurt.

Tags:

@khaylin27 @fudge13 @slutford @averyhotchner @hangmanscoming @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @phoenix1388 @alm33 @perpetuelledaydreaming @princess76179 @cherrycola27 @wkndwlff @xoxabs88xox @galaxy-moon

[bendycxmet]

content: 825 words. fluff, lil suggestive (mostly in another language), spanish speaking wolfwood, cowboy/vaquero wolfwood

Cowboy!Wolfwood who needs a farmhand for his ranch. He sees the desperation in your eyes as you peruse the shops in town, and offers you the position.

Cowboy!Wolfwood who is smooth in every way possible, all lingering gazes, hot, fleeting touches as he instructs and shows you how to fix the gate fencing in his cattle. The first time he brought you to his ranch miles away from town, he hopped off his horse and immediately helped you down as well, but instead of letting go of your hands, he gripped them tighter, turning them over this way and that, inspecting something you perhaps hadn’t seen. Your heart rate increases, a blush spreading along your body as he rubs his callused hands and fingers against the soft flesh of your own. “Que delicadas…” he muses, and drops your hands, sadly, the warmth of him whisked away with the biting wind.

Cowboy!Wolfwood dresses always in his signature suede sombrero, with a black and silver embroidered poncho constantly hiding the matching black underneath, the only difference being the brown leather chaps just running short from the bottom of his dirtied and muddy boots that stomp down the hallway early in the morning, rousing you from your sleep in your assigned bedroom. It’s an outfit that wouldn’t be flattering if it were on anyone else but Wolfwood. 

Cowboy!Wolfwood and you slowly become used to each other’s company, working in fluidity to keep the ranch running like a well-oiled machine. You discover he has a joking side to him once the ice thaws between the two of you, cracking constant jokes at you with a toothpick lodged between his teeth–a habit he now has as he attempts to kick cigarettes since you mentioned you hate the smell. 

As easygoing as he is, he takes his ranch responsibilities seriously. You watch as he rides his stallion, hands off from the reins as he twirls and lassos a stray calf, muscled thighs hugging his steed, hips following the rhythm of her trotting. Your eyes never leave his form, your body hot from watching his. A loud whistle cuts through your ogling.

“Mind opening the gate?” he shouts, chuckling at your stuttering. You quickly open it for him, watching as he guides the calf inside to join her herd. He stops in front of you, poking fun at your flustered state.

“I just think you ride Angelina so gracefully! I wish I could ride a horse as good as you.” 

He laughs lowly and moves to leave through the gates, but not before you hear him mumble “tengo algo más que puedes montar…”

Cowboy!Wolfwood isn’t just a cowboy living on the outskirts of a town that welcomes him, but he also holds the duty of a priest, going into town for Sunday morning mass, shaking hands with everyone, exchanging easygoing smiles and inquiries into each and every person’s daily life. From your spot across the street, you would think he was a different man from the one who curses when he gets a splinter, but a glance down erases all doubt as you see the same dirty boots that traverse the ranch home’s hallways peeking out from his priestly garments.

“Not very Catholic of you to wear your boots with those robes you know. Why not wear the dress shoes you have shoved in the back of the hallway closet?”

He leans down from behind to whisper in your ear, rosary gracing your shoulder. 

“It’s simply not how I work, mi cielo,” his answer comes quickly, quick enough that he’s conversing with a blonde churchgoer by the time you whip your head around. 

Cowboy!Wolfwood’s lingering gazes no longer linger, the grazing touches turning into caresses even in the midst of your duties. Your bantering and joking only intensify as does your chemistry, but Wolfwood begins to throw in more flattering remarks about your work, and you. Mi alma. Corazón. Tesoro. His nicknames for you begin to flow and ebb seamlessly into your conversations, so smoothly said that you nearly miss them each time. But he never turns his loving words into actions. You begin to get impatient.

Cowboy!Wolfwood’s eyes widen, his toothpick falling from his lips.

 “Come again?” he asks you. 

“Si no me besas en el próximo momento, ya me voy de aquí. Wolfwood, please.” 

He crosses the distance between you in half the time it would usually take him. 

“How long have you known what I have been saying?” he begs you, the embarrassment evident on his tanned cheeks, the callused hands you have been dreaming of holding you like that first day coming up to caress your jaw. 

“Desde el día que te conocí,” you say. Since I met you… I have loved you since the day I met you. 

He brings his face down to you, soft and sun-chapped lips meeting yours, his sombrero tipping to fall to the dirt behind him. 

a/n: pspsps @ayyydra and @aboveweirdest for all our screaming about cowboy wolfwood, i deliver some HCs xoxo

i tried to keep it gender neutral as possible but damn spanish is a very gender heavy language (that being said, there is many nicknames i wanted wolfwood to call you e.g. precioso/a (precious), hermoso/a (beautiful), querido/a (beloved) but the ones i wrote out are for everyone.

some translations:

“Que delicadas…” = "How delicate..."

"Tengo algo más que puedes montar…"= "I have something else you can ride..."

"Mi cielo. Mi alma. Corazón. Tesoro." = My heaven/sky/darling (idk it can mean many things). My soul. My heart. My treasure.

“Si no me besas en el próximo momento, ya me voy de aquí." = "If you don't kiss me in the next moment, I'm leaving this place."

"Desde el día que te conocí." = "Since the day I met you."

masterlist

divider

[bouncybongfairy]

No Words Needed

Keegan x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Task force 141 was placed in California for a mission. You grew up here and couldn't resist the erge for some bud. It's Keegan's first time smoking; he goes non verbal and fucks the shit out of you.

Word Count: 1.0k+

TW: Intoxicated Sex, Non-Verbal Keegan, Rough Smut

Not Proof Read

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was weird being in your hometown for the first time since joining the task force. Bringing up a lot of old memories; some good, some bad. For the most part you were maintaining the numbness that came along with being home. After sitting in your shared hotel room for an hour, you decided enough was enough and threw on your shoes. Trying your hardest not to wake Keegan; it didn’t work. 

“Where are you going?” he asked, sitting up on one of his elbows. 

“...Food,” you reply.

“Can I come?” he asks. 

“... Have you ever been to El Gavilan?” you ask.

“No,” he said. 

“Come on then,” you huff.

He got out of bed and pulled himself together as fast as he could. Following you to the elevator and out to the car. He didn’t protest when you got behind the wheel which you liked. Maybe it was because he wasn’t familiar with the area but you’d like to think it was for a more mindful reason. You followed through with your plans and did stop by El Gavilan. Eating in the car for a while before making your way to the dispensary, unbeknownst to Keegan.

“You missed the exit,” he pointed out.

“Don’t worry about it, I have to make another stop,” you said, he was practically 5 inches deep in his food, so he didn’t pry further. 

You left him in the car while going into the dispensary. It wasn’t a legal operating business but your dad swore by this one. It didn’t take long for you to see why. Cheap but good quality, not only the bud but the wax. Even had wraps which you loved because it meant this was the last stop. As you were paying, you could feel your mouth start to water. As you walked towards the car, you could see that Keegan’s brows were furrowed. 

“Why is there an armed security outside the door?” he asked. 

“It’s a dispensary,” you admitted and continued after the loud silence, “are you gonna snitch on me?” you asked. 

“No. Can I smoke too?” he asks, which makes you look over at him. 

“Yeah sure, I didn’t take you for the type,” you laugh pulling into the parking lot. 

Now back in the room, you were rolling. Explaining to Keegan exactly how you grind and gut the wrap. He was fascinated; You were using a toothpick to smear the wax on the inside of the wrap. Watching you lick and slide your fingers along the tobacco. The way you’d cringe when a small nug got caught on your lip or tongue. He wasn’t aware how much weed could permeate a room before it’s burned. You walked over to the microwave and set the blunt inside the microwave and he thought you were fucking with him. 

“No, I don’t know the exact science behind it but it makes it better,” you said, only letting it go for about 10 seconds. 

Sitting back on the bed and lighting it. Closing your eyes as the cherry crackled, enjoying the burning feeling in your lungs. You coughed and laughed, damn near rejoicing after exhaling. Keegan laughed at your reaction, watching as you did another ghost inhale. Drooling and coughing your brains out in the process. Once you composed yourself, you handed the blunt over. Walking him through the process of taking a hit, showing him how to hold it and inhale. He coughed a little but he smoked cigarettes so it wasn’t like he choked out. Immediately his brain became fuzzy, thankful for his mask covering the smirk on his face. His eyes were slowly becoming squinted and red. Normally his gaze was hard and aggressive but now his face was completely relaxed. His eyebrows weren’t furrowed, it was such a dramatic change that you couldn’t help but stare. His entire demeanor was different, going from arms crossed and leaning forward to slouched back; hands in his hoodie pocket and slow blinking. He felt like he was rolling, feeling like he was daydreaming while being wide awake. 

“You high?” he laughed and nodded his head. 

“Yeah?” you asked, taking a drag and blowing it at him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in as you did. You couldn’t help but think how hot it was seeing him so vulnerable. 

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, it’s okay,” you said, in which he nodded. You grabbed the remote and out on a music channel, swaying to the rhythm once you sat back down. Keegan let his head fall back and giggled to himself. 

“You know I don’t think I've ever seen you laugh like that,” you said, tucking a piece of hair back into his mask. He shrugged his shoulders and got up, laying down on the bed. On his back and using his hand to gesture you over. You walked over and laid down on top of him. His head was resting against a pillow, allowing him to look at you. Your chin was resting against your hands that were laid on his chest. 

“Is this okay?” you asked and he nodded. 

You could feel his member slowly harden underneath your body. You let your forehead fall onto your hands to hide your blush. Hearing him laugh and feeling his body bounce only added to your giggling. Looking back up and starting to trace his eyebrows with your finger. Running it along the bridge of his nose then moving down towards the rest of his face. You were tracing his lips from above his mask, his eyes were so expressive; he didn’t even need to talk. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, pulling your hand away not wanting to make him uncomfortable. 

He grunted and put your hand back on him, then wrapped his arms around your waist. You smiled and continued admiring his face. He continued to shift and squirm from underneath you. It was becoming increasingly harder to ignore. Your face was becoming flushed, especially after feeling his breathing quicken. You slid your body up against his, pressing kisses against his mask. He was leaning into the kisses which made you smile. He flipped you over and made heavy eye contact for a few moments. Breathing so hard you could feel it though his mask, you cautiously go to pull the mask off; he doesn’t pull away. Once your lips connected the vibe completely changed. 

The two of you were no longer gentle with each other. You ripped off his mask and in turn, he pulled your hoodie off. Immediately attacking your chest once it was exposed. Laying his full body weight on you and switching his mouth back and forth between your breasts. Nipping and sucking at your nipples like he couldn’t get enough. Ripping the rest of your clothes off and him following suit. His entire body was enguling you, like a lion was hovering over you. Moving his focus to your neck, sucking dark purple hickies onto your tender skin. Squirming everytime you felt his breath on your neck. 

He started grinding his member against your wet folds. Biting down as he enjoys the friction. As much as you liked the sting on your neck, you raked your nails down his back. He grabs his member and lines himself up with your entrance. Pushing himself in quickly which stung a little, he was trying his best but couldn’t help but jerk his hips. Engulfing himself in your heat fully for a moment before pulling back out. Everything was moving so fast, feeling your blood pump in your ears; your body racing with adrenaline. Continuously digging your nails into his back every time he bottomed out. Enjoying the feeling of your walls stretching around his length. 

He knew you were ready once your hips started bucking up to meet his thrusts. He chuckled a little because he was worried about hurting you. Now that you were rutting your hips up, so desperate for anything he could give you, he was practically feral. Gripping the sheets next to your head and pounding into you at an animalistic pace. Both of you were feeling dazed and whiplashed. As pleasurable as things were, it felt so foreign to be with each other in a non-platonic way. You pushed those thoughts to the side and focused on how euphoric you were feeling.

Feeling your walls cling to his length every time he pulls out. Without even thinking about it, you fall into your climax. Wrapping your legs around his hips tightly; limiting his movement. Feeling you tighten and contact around him sent him over the edge. Letting out loud groans and grunts, pressing himself as deeply as possible. You ran your fingers through his sweaty hair as the two of you rode out your highs together. Eventually collapsing and falling into a deep sleep, too exhausted for after care.

[narrans]

A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Three | Roommates

Chapter Three | Roommates

Ashlynn’s sleep was, well, present. In fact, it was the first time in a long time that she’d managed to sleep all the way through the night without waking to some odd terror or another. Usually, it was some kind of bug that decided to scurry across her chest or into the entrance of her hideaway. Sometimes it was a cold drop of water or the sound of some human thing just outside of her hiding place.

This morning, if it could even be called that, left Ashlynn feeling rested and secure. She stretched under her blanket and, for once, didn’t kick a pile of snow or feel like she needed to immediately survey her surroundings in case there was something dangerous nearby.

It almost felt weird having such a peaceful and normal morning. It reminded her of the times in her old home before she was forced to leave, but now wasn’t the time to think about all of that.

Sadly, the alternative wasn’t much more pleasant to think about.

Ashlynn had to learn more about the humans in the home she decided to inhabit and whether or not it would be a good idea to stay. The looming question of whether or not to continue was something that immediately spoiled the pleasant morning for the Borrower, but there was no time to dwell on it now.

She needed food and supplies, and there was only one way to do that – go borrowing.

The tools at her hips, rusted from years of use and abuse, needed immediate replacement. The food store in the ripped backpack was piddly at best, even with the newly added cookie fragments. Even her shoes were so worn that they were letting in the water and cold.

It was time.

She gathered up what few supplies she felt comfortable with carrying with her including her lamp with her last battery, borrowing pack, hook, thread, and toothpick spear, which was far from her desired pin that she’d gifted to her brother before….

It felt like so long ago now.

Don’t think about those memories now. You’ve got a job to do. Just do it you wuss.

Maneuvering through the wires and poorly shot nails, Ashlynn found her way back to the same place where she’d been the day before, which was in the apartment of that one guy. If he were alone or gone most of the time, she would count herself among some of the most lucky Borrowers in the entire world.

If not… well… she didn’t want to think about that.

She secured her hook and line and slid down the edge of the wall back toward the electrical cover she’d used the day before, but she was only halfway down when she heard something just beyond the drywall and insulation.

“Hey! Soren, could I have chocolate chips in mine?” The hair on the back of Ashlynn’s neck raised immediately. Were the kids already up? There was an immediate churn in Ashlynn’s insides as she touched down onto the interior platform on the wall and peeked out the tiny gap between the electrical cover and the world of the humans.

It was that kid!

She knew it in her gut, and now it was confirmed. The kid had a bit of a rounder face and these pale blue eyes. It made her squirm uncomfortably that she could make out the details on the kid’s face, especially the couple little freckles that were on his neck. Barely an arm’s length away, the kid bounced on his toes up and down as he looked up and to his left, an innocent and pleading look in his eyes.

“We’re making all of them with chocolate chips, and blueberries, and strawberries,” said a deeper, more masculine voice that obviously had to be the dad, Soren. Ashlynn wasn’t sure if she should risk any further glance and if she should just cut her losses and leave only to wait for a few hours to make the trek again. Her Borrower nature, unfortunately, was usually overridden by her own curiosity.

The Borrower woman needed to figure out more about this environment. It had been too long since she’d been safe and she had been in more dangerous situations before, and she wasn’t about to give all of that up if it wasn’t worth it.

“Yeah! And whipped cream!”

Sure enough, another kid appeared behind the other before nudging him out of the way, so he was closer to the older human. The two started shoving back and forth slightly before the dad turned and grasped the boys’ shoulders.

“Dorian, you were fine on my left, and Rey, don’t push,” said Soren. “And I don’t want to hear ‘he pushed me first’ because, otherwise, I’m eating all of these waffles by myself and I’m not sharing. You two can wrestle while I finish all of breakfast by myself.”

“No! Soren! That’s not fair!” whined the one called Dorian, who had a striking resemblance to the one called Rey, though Dorian had a more square jaw, and his hair was a bit longer.”

“Yeah! That’s not fair!” complained Rey, his features pinching in frustration and defiance at the unfair situation.

“Well then, it sounds like we should compromise and get along, right? And, if we finish all of our chores, we can play some games and pick a movie from ‘the book,’ if you’re good that is,” stated Soren.

“Really?” the boys asked in tandem. Their reactions made Ashlynn smile. It reminded her so much of how her and her brother used to interact while her parents worked to get the two of them to cooperate and work together.

Such great times.

Ashlynn watched carefully as Soren finished making omelets, adding vegetables much to the boys’ dismay, and load up the kitchen table with enough food to last her a lifetime. They sat down, prayed, and ate food together before going around the house and commencing these “chores” that they said they had.

It was yet another risk, but Ashlynn dared to dart out onto the counter once again and snag some of the leftovers from breakfast. Just a little bit. A piece of cut waffle that wasn’t smothered in syrup. Two cut pepper fragments. An armful of egg. A fragment of toast.

Ashlynn knew it was an immense risk, yet desperation drove her forward anyway. The perishable food she snagged would serve as her immediate meal while the other fragments could be dried and stored safely. She was back in the walls and shimmying up the line within moments of securing the food in her bag.

As she perched on the edge of the light socket and listened to the humans below while eating, she decided that she needed to observe them for a time to determine whether or not she should take up a better long-term position here. Sure, there were other apartments, but this one seemed to have a jackpot of materials and unguarded food laying around.

At the very least, the humans didn’t seem all that observant; probably because the human boys were so messy and the dad, Soren, was so used to cleaning up chaos after them.

Maybe a house with these rambunctious boys isn’t the worst thing, Ashlynn thought to herself as she nibbled on the egg and pepper. I can hunker down and be safe while also having access to all the essentials. I hope so at least.

Ashlynn wiped her hands on a small cloth fragment she’d attached to her bag before hoisting up her essentials once more and venturing out into the darkness to explore the other apartments. Perhaps there was another human unit she’d be better with.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Ashlynn’s exploration of the other apartments yielded few results as beneficial as the one with the dad and the two young human boys. It took a few days of observation and poking around, but eventually Ashlynn’s adventuring paid off. She felt confident in where she placed her belongings, but the humans in the other apartments left something to be desired.

Above the place she chose as her makeshift base was a woman and her teenage daughter, and the two of them often had shouting matches about something or another. Ashlynn didn’t really understand, nor was she required to. What the humans were up to was their business and she had no desire to piece everything together; at least, not yet. The entertainment portion of observing the humans would come after she was established.

Another apartment housed two elderly humans who had an army of furry felines, all more than eager to sniff and swipe at every shadow and darting motion. It would have been perfect if not for those pesky purring pouncers. To be fair though, Ashlynn decided she didn’t care for the elderly couples’ food selection, considering it consisted of those aluminum foil trays that you heat in the oven. Salty and messy.

Hardly proper borrowing material.

The last apartment was vacant at the moment, but during one of the days where Ashlynn was exploring the barren cabinets, she heard someone come in and start talking about the place. She crossed her fingers that there might be another human who was a good choice to borrow from, but she wasn’t counting on it. Based on her luck, it would be another human with two young children.

Alas, her roommates down below her were probably going to be her best bet when it came to gathering supplies.

Despite her mild apprehension, she slowly began to enjoy watching these three humans interact. The first week after she’d settled down and began watching them to learn their behaviors, Ashlynn discovered a few things about her new roommates.

The oldest of the two youngsters, Dorian, had a passion for music. He was constantly singing or humming while tapping or twiddling his fingers on the different counters. It made Ashlynn all the more glad she didn’t decide to take up residence on the ground floor under their bedroom. There were a lot of good things in the boys’ room like batteries and building materials because the youngest, Rey, was an inventor of sorts.

Rey was the one Ashlynn decided she needed to look out for. Between his inventions and tinkering, there was just something warning her in the back of her mind that she needed to be wary of this one. In her mind, if any of the boys were capable of creating something that could catch her. He was the most observant of the three and, being a young boy, had the energy and drive to come after her if he spotted her.

It was the oldest, in her mind, that Ashlynn knew almost nothing about. He was a hard worker and, more often than not, was doing something or another for the kids. Sometimes his clothes smelled singed, or he had smudges of dirt or some other weird substance on his face or on the back of his neck, but one thing was certain – he loved the two young humans in his care.

It did make Ashlynn wonder about him though. The more she listened, the more she was unsure about Soren’s relationship to the two young boys. Every other parent child relationship she’d witnessed had the child calling the older human “mom” or “dad.” Neither of the young boys did that to Soren. They always called him by his first name – Soren.

She wondered if it was because he wasn’t their real dad or if he was some kind of uncle or something, but even then the name was the thing that was holding her up.

It wasn’t her business and she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to know. Still, it was something to help keep her mind busy as she passed the time watching the humans and memorizing their patterns to best time her borrowing trips.

Goodness knew she needed it.

On the bright side, all her building materials were coming along nicely and Ashlynn now had a makeshift pantry to help dry and stale some of her supplies while also keeping some of her other items cold by the cold water pipes, which was an adventure in of itself involving a rusty corkscrew from behind the cabinet that she’d found and a lot of tape she’d absconded with from a recently failed project Rey tried to make.

Now that everything was set up sufficiently, Ashlynn knew what she needed next – a proper bed. Though her instincts warned her that she’d have to be careful, she had made up her mind after that first week that she would stay here in this apartment. At the very least, she needed to stay until springtime.

Best part was she knew exactly where to find all of the material she would need in order to make this dream bed of hers. The only problem was that it was in the boys’ room, but she had a plan for that. They never got up in the middle of the night, which is when she would be out and about borrowing anyway, and she needed to take just the right amount of material so that no one noticed her presence.

Her plan was in place. Her tools were sharpened and checked – twice.

What could possibly go wrong?

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

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A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story