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chattahoochiecoochie · 2 years ago

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Spare Keys

Summary: What do you do when you fuck before the first date? You skip all the other regular relationship steps right after, just to catch up.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Suggestive Language / Author Thinks She’s Funny

A/N: I exist to entertain myself, and only myself. Part One. Part Two.

You wake to the sound of Sam’s voice—how’d he get here? Squatting beside you, he’s speaking into the receiver of his phone, smiling softly at you.

“There’s my girl, good morning sunshine.” His hand is on your face, brushing the hair back from your eyes. You falter underneath him, letting your eyes close as he strokes your face. “Someone forgot their alarm this morning, huh?”

Your alarm? Oh fuck.

Your eyes open wide, blinking quickly as you take in the sight before you fully. Sam’s beside your bed, watching you, holding your spare key in hand with his phone. When had you given him your spare? Behind him, your alarm clock is sitting quietly, the digital face reading 8:33, a full half hour after you were supposed to be up. Double fuck.

You sit up, brushing off his hand as you throw the covers off of yourself. You’ve got a meeting this morning. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Yeah, ninth floor. Bring her coffee with you.” Sam hangs up the phone, sliding it into his pocket before taking a closer look at you. You’re rubbing your eyes, trying to organize yourself.

It’s 8:30. You’ve got a meeting in forty five minutes. A meeting you cannot be late for. In a gravely morning voice, you tell Sam as much.

“You guys do meetings?” He raises a brow, moving to the side as you scramble off your bed, wondering briefly if you have enough clean underwear as you make for the bathroom.

“It’s for Ja’Marr’s hip. Treatment plan.” You call over your shoulder, tugging your sleep shirt over your head.

“I thought the medical team did that stuff?” He’s trailing after you, flicking on the light as he walks into the bathroom behind you.

“Yeah, but now his workouts have to change, his warmups and cool downs.”

Stepping out of your underwear you reach for your toothbrush, finding yourself disappointed when you look in the mirror. Your hair is a disaster. You’ll have to shower.

Before you can reach the faucet, Sam is turning it on for you, waving you back to the sink. “I’ve got this, you do that.”

“Where are y’all at?” The sound of your front door shutting echoes through the apartment, followed by the sound of Joe moving through your living room. You watch in the mirror as Sam leans out the bathroom door, waving his arm.

Looking over your shoulder, you watch as Sam moves along the wall behind you to make room for Joe in the small space. The moment the blond appears, you blush. He walks in whistling, eyes wide when he sees you. “Good morning.”

“She look this good when you woke her up?” He leans against the door frame, brow raised as he questions Sam.

“Better. Wearing your shirt.” He points to the crumpled garment on the floor. You blush deeper, turning back to the mirror.

“And you made it all the way to the bathroom in one piece?” Joe raises his brows higher, smirking at your reflection.

“She’s got a meeting.”

“They do meetings?”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you wipe a hand across your mouth and move towards the shower. Later, if you can remember, you’ll explain your job title to them, in full. For now, Sam’s got you covered.

“Something about Ja’Marrs hip.” He says, holding the curtain open for you as you step into the water. “What’s next, baby?”

“Clothes. My water bottle.” You squint underneath the stream of water, second guessing yourself as you speak. “My ipad. I’m not sure if I charged it.”

“I’m on iPad duty. Joey, you got clothes?”

“On it.”

Water rushing over your head, you shut your eyes, sighing with a shaking sense of relief as you listen to them shuffle out of the bathroom. Moments later, as you rinse your face, relief turns into laughter. Joe can’t decide on underwear.

“I’ve got a thong and then, regular I guess!” He’s screaming from your bedroom, and the thought of him standing in front of your dresser trying to decide makes you giggle.

“Thong!” You and Sam both answer, his deep voice drowning out the watery sound of your own.

“Sick. What about a bra?”

Shutting off the water, you reach beyond the curtain for a towel, trying to decide for yourself. It’s a meeting, so a regular bra is probably better for the top you had in mind, but you’re hitting the gym after.

Towel wrapped securely around your chest, you lean into the short hall that divides your bedroom from the living space. Before you can even part your lips to answer, Sam slips into view, pecking at your lips as he walks by with your iPad in hand.

“Regular!” You squeal against him, caught off guard by the rush around you.

Trapped in the buzz of them moving through your space, you stand motionless in the doorway. On your left, you can hear Joe opening and closing drawers, humming at what he finds in each one. To your right, you can hear the fridge opening in your kitchen, followed by loud cursing from Sam.

“Your Brittas empty!”

“Leggings?”

“It’s a meeting!” Sam yells from your kitchen, scoffing as he turns on your kitchen sink.

“So pants?”

“Obviously!”

“Everything looks like leggings!”

“Check my closet!” You interject, heart pounding in your chest as the chaos mounts on both sides of you.

“Jesus!” The sound of stuff falling echoes from your room. There goes that shitty rack. You wince at the sound, wishing you’d remembered to put in that maintenance request the last time it had fallen on you, trapping you under a pile of hangers and tangled clothes.

“Sorry!”

“Don’t worry about him. Let's worry about you, what’s next?” Sam is in front of you again, taking the towel you’ve been clinging to. “It’s 8:50.”

“Fuck, um, hair. Hair and makeup.” You turn to catch yourself in the mirror. Hair, definitely.

“I’m gonna need a brush. You gotta hairdryer?”

You nod, turning your back to him as you rummage through the cluttered countertop until you finally find what you need. You pass him the brush first, fingers grazing him as you hand it over your shoulder. The hairdryer follows, handed back by the barrel.

Without instruction, Sam takes over the room, taking control off your mind as he starts at the root of your head. His hands are firm, and shockingly sure. He’s watching you in the mirror, working off some kind of muscle memory as he dries you off, section by section.

Minutes later, when you’re leaning into the mirror for your eyeliner, and Sam is twisting the brush through the ends of your hair to get a loose curl—what had he said, something about a sister—Joe’s reflection appears behind Sam’s. He’s holding a pair of khakis and a bright pink shirt.

“Are you dressing your mini me? What are those?” Sam raises his brows, hands stopped as he turns to get a better look at what Joe has picked out.

“It’s the pink isn’t it? I second guessed myself. I’ll be back.” Joe shakes his head, shuffling back out of view.

A moment later he returns, this time holding a black quarter zip, looking proud of himself. “I was thinking black shoes?”

“Much better.” Sam nods in approval, and pulls the brush through your hair a final time before shutting off the hairdryer. Can every morning be this easy?

“Perfect. I’ve got these for you.” Joe moves into the room, your outfit draped over his arm as he clutches your thong in one hand and your bra in the other.

“I’m gonna get her water then, if you’ve got this?” Sam drags a hand across your back as he steps away, nodding with approval when Joe gives him a thumbs up.

Moving to the side as Sam exits the bathroom, Joe holds out your thong, smirking. “For you, milady.”

You blush, looking at the floor as you take it from him. Feeling his eyes on you as you pull it up, you blush deeper, cheeks bright pink when you reach for your bra next.

“Fuck, I cannot wait to get those off you later.” Joe groans, sounding strained as he holds out your khakis. “You really wore my shirt to bed?”

Of course, you think. Could hardly bring yourself to take it off after they brought you home from the bar in it, Sam handing back your beer soaked shirt as he kissed you goodnight.

“Sorry, for spilling on you in there.” He’d said as he watched you take off the dirty shirt in the front seat of Joe’s car. “You did look really good in Guinness, though.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Joe had answered for you, eyes locked on your chest as you changed into one of his spare workout tees.

“Every night this week.” You answer him with a smug face, tugging the pants over your ass before putting out a hand for your zip up.

By the time you pop your head out of the collar a long minute later, he’s half hard and swallowing slowly when you catch his eye.

“Black shoes, you said?” Reaching up on your tiptoes, you brush your lips across his, trying not to smirk at him when your hand shifts over the front of his shorts. Was he that big in your hand the last time? The first time?

“I put them by your purse.” His voice is tight. Striking you swiftly on the ass, he shifts from your path to let you out of the room before him. With a shrill giggle, you run into the hall, beyond his reach as he begins to pull his hand back a second time.

Bounding into the kitchen, you run almost head on into Sam’s chest. Wrapping his arms around your middle, he catches you mid stride, preventing the collision.

“Ready?” One hand holding you by the arm, he lifts the other to your chin, tilting your face to his, catching the spark in your eye. “What’d I miss?”

“I—we—are gonna fuck her stupid after this meeting of hers.”

“So much for taking it slow, then.” Sam laughs over your head, hugging you to his chest. This is slow? They’re organized like a Nascar pit crew. And they’d fucked you before the first date. Was that a date? You’re sleeping in Joe’s shirt–this is not slow.

“It's 9:07 now.” Sam’s voice cuts through your thoughts. He glances at his watch, smirking when he looks up. Behind you, Joe is standing with his chest pressed against your back, heat pouring from between his legs. “You think you can live, what, an hour and a half without her?”

Grunting, Joe lets out a sound that's neither a yes or a no. Nuzzling his nose against your ear, you feel him breathing on your neck, the spot quickly covered by his mouth as he nips at you. This isn’t slow, but fuck that feels good.

“I’m supposed to be there by now!” You squeal, shivering between the two of them. It’s not that important, is it?

Joe groans against you, finally coughing slightly as he picks his head up behind you. “Hour and a half.”

“Hour and a half.” Sam parrots him, grinning at the two of you. “Let’s get going.”

Gently, he guides you both to the door, checking over your belongings as he ushers the two of you into the hall. He’s got your iPad and your purse, Joe’s on water bottle and key duty. All you’ve got to do is hold Joe’s hand and look pretty, Sam says to you, a glint in his eye. There's an innuendo in his words, but you’re out of time to dwell on it for now.

Later, on the walk into the training facilities, you’ll spend the spare minute going over it in your mind, blushing inappropriately by the time you step into the conference room. For now, you do as he says, letting Joe wrap his large hand over yours as he locks up the door to your apartment, using your keys instead of the spare you’d seen earlier. The spare.

You look to Sam in front of you, wondering where he’s put it. You watch him closely as he presses the button for the elevator, left hand shifting inside the pocket of his shorts.

“You want this back on your lanyard?” The gold key dangles from his ring finger as he pulls his hand free.

He’s not looking at you, rather over you, at Joe.

Joe squeezes your hand. “Nah, you keep it.” He had it? “I’ll make a copy of it later, if that's okay with you, baby.”

The memory floods your mind when you look up at him. “You gotta spare? Make it easier for me to help get you out of here in the mornings.” Sam’s hand is out, gesturing to the keyring in your hand.

You don’t give out keys, as a rule. It keeps things tidy. But he’s looming over you, seeming so earnest. It’s like you make the sales pitch for him. They’ve been coming to get you for work in the mornings for nearly a week, carrying your bags to the car, holding your hand in the elevator. It would make it easier, if you didn’t have to buzz one or both of them in each time. What a great idea.

“Yes.” You say, eyes lost in his as you lean against the door, mesmerized.

“Sure.” You say now to Joe, the word sounding so easy on your tongue. “Makes things easier.”

A/N: Part four is here.

#i think I'm funny #i think I'm very funny #does this beat the uber pool joke?#no but i peaked with that #chattahoochiecoochie writes #joe burrow #sam hubbard #joe burrow x reader #sam hubbard x reader #joe burrow and sam hubbard #bengals #joe burrow fic #nfl fic

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roosterforme · 5 months ago

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Mr. Right Now Part 1 | Hangman x Reader

Summary: When Jake picks your ID up from the floor at the Hard Deck, he has no expectations that he's about to be in for a wild ride. But when he learns that you're looking for Rooster and why you're at the bar in the first place, he starts to feel more possessive than he should. You're young and stubborn and about to get yourself into trouble. Maybe he would prefer it if you got into it with him instead.

Warnings: adult language, mentions of sex and virginity, 18+

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Why is Jake on my masterlist!? Mr. Right Now masterlist

It was a typical Friday night with the typical Hard Deck crowd, and to be honest, it was a bit exhausting. Jake knew if he picked up a random girl to take home, it would all feel pretty pointless the next morning. He should probably just head home now before he ruined some desperate girl's night by kicking her out of his bed in about four hours.

"Jesus, it's not even ten o'clock yet," he muttered to himself as he checked his watch. He'd only had one whiskey sour, but he was ready to leave. The two girls in matching pink dresses had been eyeing him up all night, and they both looked like the type who would cry if he suggested getting them an Uber after hooking up, no matter how clear he made it that he only ever kept things very casual.

He hated when girls got it twisted. Jake loved women. He loved their bodies. He loved making promises to them and then delivering. He loved the little noises they made when he fucked them. But that was all he had time for. He wasn't going to meet anyone that made him think it was worth pursuing more when he spent all of his time at work, at the gym, or at a bar full of tag chasers.

He signaled for Penny to close out his tab, and even she looked surprised. "You're heading out?" she asked, glancing at his friends who were still playing pool with the girls in pink.

"Yeah," he said with a sigh as he signed his name on the receipt and collected his credit card. "Thinking about an early night and a long run on the beach first thing in the morning."

"Right," she said, giving him a little smile. "Be safe."

He winked at her and turned just in time to see a young woman drop something as she tried to squeeze through the crowd. "Hey!" he called out as he picked up her driver's license and held it up in his hand. "Leather mini skirt!"

You glanced over your shoulder, your eyes questioning as you turned away from the pool table to face him. He watched you look around to make sure nobody else was wearing a black leather skirt before you faced him all the way.

"Yes?" you asked a little cautiously, and Jake took in the sight before him. You looked pretty young and a little out of place here. You had paired your little skirt with a black tank top and some Converse sneakers, and even though you didn't look like anyone else, you certainly didn't look bad.

Then he remembered he was holding your license, and he glanced down at his hand only to realize it was literally the worst fake ID he had ever seen. Your name was pretty, if that part was even real. The photo actually was you, but it looked like it had been taken in bad lighting, and according to your date of birth, you were thirty just like he was. One more look at your face told him that was a blatant lie.

"This yours?" he asked, holding it up between his thumb and index finger.

You rushed forward, clearly embarrassed, and you tried to take it from him with a muttered, "Thank you."

But he pulled it out of your reach, and your hand grazed his chest instead. "Nice fake, kiddo. Don't get drunk, okay?"

You shot him a look of vexation, clearly having no idea who he was or that he was one of the best fighter pilots in the country. "I'm not here to get drunk, okay?" When you reached for the plastic card again, Jake held it a little higher just to see what you'd do. "Seriously?"

He glanced up and looked at the first and last name once again before saying them out loud. "Then why are you here? And with the world's worst fake ID to boot."

You eyed the card, still out of reach, and placed your hands on your hips. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm actually looking for someone named Rooster, if you happen to know who he is?"

Jake lowered his hand slowly, and you snatched your card back and tucked it inside your little purse. "What do you want with ol' Rooster?" he asked, eyeing you a little closer while you were glancing down. You were cute if not a little too innocent looking for him, but your words once again had him engaged.

"That's classified, sailor. Now do you know who he is or not?"

Jake laughed. "Yeah. I know who he is. But I'm not a sailor. I'm an aviator. Got more air to air kills than anyone else on active duty."

You gave him a bland look. "That must be very nice for you, aviator. But I'm on a bit of a mission here, so if you don't mind..." As you turned back toward the pool table, Jake followed behind you.

"He's the big one with the mustache and hideous shirt."

You stopped, and he bumped into you, steadying himself with his hands briefly on your shoulders. "Oh," you replied. "Wow. I mean, it's not going to be a problem for me, that's for sure. I just hope he's into it."

Still confused, Jake said, "I wouldn't bother him in the middle of a game of pool unless you come bearing the gift of a beer or a nice set of tits."

You spun around and looked him right in the eye. "What exactly is wrong with my tits?"

"Nothin'," he replied, trying not to look at them in your snug top. "Just trying to give you the lay of the land is all."

When you glanced over your shoulder, he let his eyes dip down below your neck. Certainly nothing wrong there. "Is that his girlfriend?" you asked, turning back to Jake and jerking your thumb in the direction of Phoenix where she stood near Rooster.

"No," he laughed. "But I'd also avoid interrupting her without a beer or your tits ready to go."

"Well, thanks. You've been very informative. One more question," you said, just inches away from Jake in the crowd. "What kind of beer does this Rooster guy like?"

He studied your face closely. He considered himself something of an expert when it came to women, and things weren't completely adding up for him right now. Your words and posture seemed bold and sure, but your eyes were giving you away. There was a nervousness behind them that made him anxious to get answers from you.

"I'll tell you if you finally answer my question."

"What was your question?"

"Why are you here? And what do you want from Rooster?"

"That's two questions," you said with a smirk, leaning a little closer, and Jake just wanted to wrap his arm around you and yank you all the way in.

"You're a real smartass, kid. And I like that in a person. But just humor me with an answer, and I'll buy you the beer myself."

Your lips parted as your gaze drifted down to Jake's chest. Every time you blinked, your eyelashes brushed your cheeks, and it was taking all of his willpower to keep his hands off you. With a deep breath, you almost met his eyes as you said, "I'm here to get laid."

Jake cocked his head to one side until you did meet his gaze. Your eyes still looked unsure. "Explain."

You just shrugged. "What is there to explain exactly? I'm looking to have sex."

He closed one eye and squinted. He could have sworn he only had one drink, but nothing was making sense right now. "With Rooster?"

"Yes. I'm going to try to get him to take me home."

Jake burst into laughter, and you took a small step away from him. "You're not going to have to try very hard, I can tell you that much for sure." You were actually cute as hell; any guy you had your sights set on would be ready to leave at the mere mention of such activities.

"That's what I'm hoping for," you muttered before pressing your lips together.

"Wait, wait," Jake asked with his hands held up in front of his chest in surrender. "Why Rooster?"

You looked a little embarrassed now as you switched your bag from one hand to the other. "My friend told me he was good in bed," you muttered.

"I am so confused," Jake replied, pushing his fingers through his hair. By this point, you were starting to look annoyed, and he didn't want to push, but he wanted to know. If you were going to parade around the Hard Deck in a mini skirt with a fake ID, he needed to know that you were okay. "You're young and attractive. Why did you come here of all places to acquire a hot fuck?" And that's when he got the answer that surprised him as you finally snapped.

"Because, if you must know, I'm a disgrace of a twenty-year-old virgin, and I'm trying to get Rooster to take care of that for me."

"What?" Jake's mind was reeling. He looked from you to the aviator at the pool table and then at your face once more. Then he jerked back a step. A virgin. Huh. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen one this close up before. Not around here, anyway. And, frankly you were hot enough that it did surprise him a bit, even though you were young.

"You heard me," you muttered, playing with your skirt. "Don't make it into a big thing." You shook your head and glanced toward the bar. "What kind of beer does he like? It looks like he has a bottle of Stella."

You were definitely nervous right now, and Jake didn't like that one bit. "Oh, no. You don't want to hook up with Rooster."

"Yes," you insisted, clutching your little purse now. "I do. Because he won't even have to know about any of it. He'll just fuck me. And then I can get on with my life."

When you took a step toward the bar, Jake reached out for your hand. "He's drunk. You want your first time to be with someone who won't have the mental capacity to make sure you enjoy yourself, too? Make sure you come?"

Instead of pulling your hand free, you stopped and looked at the place where your fingers were connected with his. "I'm not worried about coming. I just want to get this over with."

Gently he pulled you closer until your chest bumped his, and then Jake took your chin carefully between his thumb and index finger. "How old are you, really?"

"I'm twenty."

He stroked your lip with his thumb. It was soft and plump and more than kissable. "Twenty," he echoed. "That's not too old, you know."

You smirked. "Thanks. But I'm just trying to be sensible here. I don't need to be in love or anything like that. I'd rather have the experience. Rather get it out of the way so it doesn't hurt when I'm with the guy who keeps asking me out. And this way I'll know what to do."

Once more he touched his thumb to your lip and said, "Show me your real ID."

"Why?" you asked, frowning as his hand fell away. "That was my actual name on the one you saw."

"Just humor me, kid," he said firmly, holding out his hand. If you were only eighteen or even younger, he was going to have to ask you to leave or maybe even get Penny involved before you did go home with one of these horny assholes.

With a huff, you handed it to him. According to the real one, you lived in San Diego. You turned twenty about two months ago. And that really was your name. "When you get a fake, you're supposed to fake the name, too. Everyone knows that. You're in college?"

You snatched it from him and tucked it away with the other one. "Yes, I'm in college."

"Then why the hell are you here right now?" he asked. "You want to lose your virginity so bad tonight? Go stand outside a dorm, and the guys will be lining up for a cute thing like you."

The annoyance and apprehension left your face and were replaced by something different. "Do you really think that's a better alternative than a slightly tipsy, attractive man in his 30s? Because I do not. I'm going for Rooster. But thanks for calling me cute."

Jake was getting so used to your smirk that as soon as you turned away from him again, he missed it. You were heading off toward Bradshaw, and for some wild reason, he was just unwilling to let you do this with him. Rooster wouldn't ask if you were a virgin, and you certainly wouldn't tell him. It might be good for you, and it might not, but Jake thought you should at least be with someone who would try.

"No no no no." He had his hands around your waist, pulling your back against his front. "It's not happening," he muttered next to your ear. "I can call a ride for you, or I can drive you home myself, but that's not going to happen."

You spun around and glared at him. "You said I was cute. I can handle this."

Jake sighed and tipped his face toward the ceiling for a beat as he held you in place with his hands at the middle of your back. "Not with any of those guys," he practically growled through gritted teeth. "I don't know how to make myself any more clear."

You weren't struggling in his grasp, and he knew he should let you go anyway, but he wanted you to agree to letting him get you an Uber. But then you leaned in a little closer with a glint in your eye and asked, "Who's going to do it then? You?"

"Me?" he asked, wide eyes slowly drifting down to your lips. He could feel the leather of your skirt against his pinky as his fingers flexed with the need to keep you close. He could smell your skin and see your pupils growing wider. Your softly parted lips were right there.

You nodded slowly and said, "I mean... I don't even know your name, but I'm sure you could show me the ropes, aviator."

He swallowed hard, eyes never leaving yours. "I'm Jake," he said, his voice lower and needier than he anticipated. "And I need you to tell me what you're going to do if I say no."

Your smirk was back. "Well, Jake the aviator, if you say no, then I'll go ask Rooster and keep my fingers crossed that he's into it."

It wasn't that Jake wasn't keen on the idea of getting his hands all over you, because he was. And that was the problem. He wasn't any better than the rest of the guys. Not really. He didn't deserve to get to have you. But the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced he'd make it good. He wouldn't hurt you or do anything you didn't welcome. And he wouldn't kick you out after a few hours.

"It's a bad idea," he said, and then your lips were on his. You caught him off guard, and after that one gentle kiss, you started to pull away. Your eyes were wide and innocent, and he couldn't stop himself. He chased you for another taste, and it was the sweetest thing he could ever remember. Your hand crept up to rest on his chest as he drew your tentative lips back to his, pulling you snug against his body. Soft kiss after soft kiss left his nose bumping against yours as he whispered, "I said it's a bad idea."

Then you were kissing him again. Harder this time. Your hand went around the back of his neck, and he took a palm full of leather as he squeezed your ass. Oh shit. You were a nice handful for him. Honestly, he could get hard for you right here, and now you surely felt it as he rolled his hips forward against yours.

And then you moaned into his mouth as your fingers slipped up into his hair, and Jake knew it was hopeless. You nibbled on his lip before you pulled a few inches away, looked at him with desire filled eyes, and whispered, "I think it might be a good idea."

"God damn it."

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Is Jake actually any better than the rest of the horny guys? Is this a bad idea or a good idea? The problem is Jake likes stubborn girls who give him a hard time. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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