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#but that's for me to keep in my brain forever and never draw

kays-artstuff · 22 days

Note

So do all the fall humans like that(human-monster hybrid looking), or it's just Clover?

clover looks the Least like a monster out of all of the humans since their body isn't as rotten and didn't sustain as many injuries since they gave up their soul rather than got killed jbjbd

they go from "eh not that monster lookin"(clover who still has human anatomy/ bone structures) to " that's a human? i mean i guess i can see it a bit???" (cyan/first human)

(lmao integrity lost her legs but at least you can tell she was human at some point :D)

#“Lucky” Clover Au #art #sorry for the tags #drawing #uty #uty clover #100% making patience frog themed #but that's for me to keep in my brain forever and never draw #asks

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sometimesanalice · 11 days

Text

Between Friends

Summary: Bradley and you don’t talk about that Spring Break. But a single question asked during a night out at the Hard Deck might just change things between the two of you forever.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 11K

Warning: smut (including loss of virginity), brief mention of underage drinking, and college!bradley in a backwards hat

(Author's note: Happy Birthday Jordan! I wrote this just for you! Look at me keeping secrets from you! Enjoy!)

𝐍𝐎𝐖

Rooster couldn’t control his bouncing leg.

That night at the Hard Deck had started out like any other: good music, good drinks, good people. Over the course of the evening, he’d found himself seated between you and Bob in a lopsided circle with the rest of the Daggers around a few tall tables that had been pushed together just shooting the shit.

It was all fun and games until swapping stories about embarrassing middle school moments turned into cringing over first kiss stories turned into Seresin grinning like a shark asking about how everyone’s first time went down.

Rooster felt his pulse kick up with every collective laugh and groan as his friends went one by one sharing how they’d lost their virginities. Because with each passing story, it meant that you were one person closer to going. And for the first time in his life- even after over two decades of friendship- he didn’t know what your answer was going to be.

So he is just as shocked as his teammates are when you tentatively reveal, “So, um, my first time was with Rooster.” He doesn’t miss the way all his friends’ heads snap towards him.

All eyes are on the two of you, and you’re pointedly looking anywhere but him.

Rooster had been anxiously waiting to hear the story of your first official time, the one that was with someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t realize that you still considered him your first. He’d figured that part of your history had long been overwritten by whoever had been lucky enough to catch your eye and make your heart race in a romantic way.

The two of you had never talked about it in the after.

Not once, not ever.

He didn’t care that people knew, he just wasn’t expecting it.

Jake starts the group out of its stunned silence by slapping a heavy hand on top of the table, nearly sending some bottles to the floor, “I knew it! I knew y’all couldn’t have been friends all this time and not have tried it out at least once.”

“Jesus Christ, dude, chill,” Javy mutters. He’s always been the better of the two about reading the room.

Trying to spare you from being put on the spot even more than you already were now, Rooster mumbles through the way he’d lost his to a girl from his AP Econ class after a playoff baseball game.

He stares at the way you’re nervously picking at the label of the Blue Moon he’d grabbed for you when he went to get a refill of his own. He can practically hear the way your brain is buzzing. He wonders if you wish you could take back the words from where they are sitting on the table with the collection of bottles and peanut shells for everyone to see.

Bob being the team player that he is starts talking about how he’d lost his one summer in college to another camp counselor, going into more detail than he’s ever given before, probably trying to redirect the attention to himself to give the two of you a moment to regroup.

Rooster makes a mental note to tell Penny to put all of Bob’s cream sodas from now on on his own tab.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. Or where to look. Or where to put his hands. He wants to talk to you, but there’s no good way for him to go about it without drawing even more attention to the two of you.

You were supposed to be going on a first date tonight, but he’d talked you into canceling to hang out with him instead. He likes having all of your attention on him. And maybe he’s been a little selfish with you, because he doesn’t like to share you with anyone else. You’ve always been his best friend.

Rooster likes that he gets to talk to you whenever he wants now, and that it doesn’t feel like a never-ending game of catch up anymore. In the year since the Uranium mission, he’d felt like all the fragmented pieces of his life had finally come together. He’d reconnected with Mav, he was living in the same city as his best friend, and he had a place he could finally call home.

He didn’t just want the highlights with you, he wanted everything in between too. There’s no more distance due to time zones and scheduling times to call because now you only live 20 minutes away from him. And the next time he comes home from a deployment, he knows he’ll get to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him.

He feels like he’s learned so much more about the grown-up version of you over the last year than he has in the last ten.

Jake jumps in barely a breath after Bob finishes telling his story. “Well, we all know it’s not the first who matters, but who was the best.” Rooster doesn’t trust the gleam in his eyes or the sharp smile on his face. “Since Bradshaw cut you off before, how’s about you go first this time, darlin’. You can tell us about who knocked your socks off. Maybe this time he’ll let you finish, if you know what I mean.”

It’s thinly veiled snooping disguised as chivalry, and it doesn’t fool anyone. Nat’s eyes dart to him briefly, trying to get a read on him.

He’d been 21 at the time. And while he knows more now that he did then, he also knows his name isn’t going to be coming out of your mouth for a second time tonight.

Rooster takes a sip of his beer, needing something to do.

He knows you’ve been with other people. You’d lived with your ex for over a couple years, for fuck's sake. But it was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not talk about your sex lives with each other.

His leg starts bouncing again and he realizes he really doesn’t want to hear this. Not because of his ego, but because he doesn’t know what to do about the knot that’s formed in his stomach.

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times before you speak, “That title would also go to Rooster.” The admission is soft, but sure.

Where his heart had been pounding before, now it feels like it had stopped completely.

It’s been 13 years since that Spring Break. 13 years and he’s still your best?

Barely five minutes ago, he hadn’t known where to look. But now? Now he couldn’t stop staring at you.

He just didn’t understand why you still wouldn’t look at him back.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

When you’d floated the idea by Bradley about visiting him at UVA for Spring Break during your weekly phone call, you’d been braced for the disappointment of him already having plans. It was his Senior year, it wouldn’t surprise you if he wanted to go out with a bang and make the most of it. Especially since he would belong to the Navy soon enough.

But he’d taken you by surprise when he started enthusiastically listing off all the places he wanted to show you, planning out your trip like a well-seasoned travel agent before you’d even booked a plane ticket.

You’d started looking up airfare before you’d even hung up the phone. And thirty minutes later you had a confirmation email flagged in your inbox after elatedly charging that aisle seat to the credit card you only used for emergencies.

It had been close to a year since you’d last seen him. He usually spent his Winter Break with your family, but this year he’d stayed on campus for the holidays and it was the longest the two of you had ever been apart since you’d first met him when you were 8.

And maybe that’s why it took you so long to spot him in the Arrivals area of the Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport.

You’ve always prided yourself in being able to pick Bradley out of a crowd anywhere, but in your cursory glance you hadn’t recognized the tall, broad guy with the UVA shirt pulled taut across his chest and wearing a baseball hat backward on his head. It wasn’t until your third searching pass that you’d caught the lips that were quirked up in amusement and those familiar brown eyes trained on you as he leaned ever-so-casually against the faux wood paneling on the wall waiting for you to notice him.

He’d filled out in the months since you’d last seen him. He was more toned than you remembered him being with definition in places where there hadn’t been before. His face had more distinct angles and less baby fat cushioned curves. Still a bit boyish, but he was well on his way to looking like a man.

Bradley raised his hand like he was going to wave, but then he’d mimicked casting a fishing line in your direction and reeling it in. And it was so endearingly stupid- so him- that you couldn’t help but take the bait and made your way towards him with the biggest grin on your face.

You’d ignored the jittery flutter in your stomach as you’d weaved between people and luggage. You’ve never been nervous around your best friend before. There was something that had on your mind a lot as the days to your visit inched closer, but you’d shoved that out of your mind, because you were finally standing in front of him in person for the first time in months.

“Hey, kid,” he’d greeted you, taking your bag, “Charlottesville must have known you were coming, because she’s going to be sunny for you all week.” As soon as you were within arm’s reach, he tugged you right into his chest for a hug. You could feel the unspoken I missed you in the way he squeezed you just that bit tighter before releasing you.

Then he was dropping an arm over your shoulders and steering you towards the exit and driving you into town in the beat-up car he’d bought after selling his prized Montero, the car that Mav had given him for his birthday.

You’re only there for a week and Bradley doesn’t waste a single moment of it.

After dropping your things off in his dorm room, he takes you straight to campus where he gives you the Official Bradley Bradshaw Certified UVA Tour. He buys you lunch from one of the food trucks in the Amphitheater “for sustenance” before taking you to see the highlights. You start with the Rotunda and then the academic village, making a special pitstop at the Whispering Wall for you to tell it a secret. And then he takes you on a more historical tour, like showing you the exact route he used to streak The Lawn and pointing out the place he’d puked after his 21st birthday.

It’s clear he’d put so much thought into your visit because it seems like there is never a down moment. By the end of the third day you’re more surprised that you don't wake up every morning with a printed itinerary on your pillow.

He sneaks you into the Slaughter Rec Center to rock climb, claiming he had a person on the inside with the right connections. But really from what you could tell, the pretty girl at the check-in counter clearly had a crush on him. He takes you to the batting cages he likes to go to before Dead Week, and spends the time there equal parts making fun of your power swing and trying to fix it.

You get your revenge the next day standing outside of the imposing columns and massive doors to the Fralin Art Museum. Skeptically eyeing the sculpture in the front of the building that kind of looked like a giant wisdom tooth, you mentioned, “I didn’t realize you’d become such a patron of the cultural arts.”

“Hey now, I like artsy shit,” he’d said, only mildly affronted.

You snorted at that. “Is there an exhibit on beer pong and blunt rolling you wanted to see?” Through the window you’d spotted some large landscape oil paintings in ornate gilded frames and carved marble busts of what you assumed were probably of some of the Founding Fathers.

“You just missed that one, it was last month,” Bradley lobbed back, opening the door for you.

“What a pity,” you’d said with a dramatic sigh, “Guess we’ll have to settle for some tasteful nudes instead.”

“If we’re lucky,” he’d muttered under his breath, as you passed under his arm.

And then you’d felt the corners of your mouth kick up.

Turning around you’d pressed your finger to his chest, whispering so the person behind the ticket desk didn’t hear you, “Twenty bucks says you don’t make it thirty minutes in there.”

He narrowed his eyes, taking in your sly grin, “You’re on, kid.”

It’s the easiest $20 you’ve ever made.

The two of you call it a truce only after he tips your kayak into the still chilly Rivanna River.

Later that night, he takes you to a party on “Mad Bowl” that one of his frat friends was hosting. The backyard was all strung up with red and green Christmas lights like they had been too lazy to take them down after the holidays and decided it added to the outdoor ambiance instead of packing them away.

He was still just as protective over you as he was back in high school. Spending the whole night keeping an eye on you and handing you drinks that he’d uncapped himself using the opener that he had on his keychain, the one that still had the little fighter jet charm you’d given him ages ago dangling from it.

The days pass all too quickly as he shows you all of his favorite spots.

You knew UVA wasn’t where he’d originally wanted to be- where he thought he’d be- but you were happy that he seemed happy here.

But in between the late-night microwave ramen and movie watching and crossing off all the things on Bradley’s Spring Break To-Do List, there’d been something you’d been wanting to talk to him about. But you were having so much fun with him, you’d missed your best friend over those long months apart, and you didn’t want to ruin the time you had left with him here.

It lingered at the back of your mind like a phantom hair that you can feel, but can’t ever seem to brush off no matter how many times you attempt to. You felt like you were waiting for the right time that you weren’t sure would ever come. And if you were being honest, you weren’t entirely sure you would even be brave enough to ask if the time came.

The two of you had woken up way before the sun this morning.

If anyone other than Bradley had asked you to wake up before 5 AM to go hike to watch the sunrise, you would have laughed at them. But because it was Bradley, you’d set the alarm without comment. Even though he did have to gently pry you out of his roommate’s bed- with the fresh sheets he told you he bought especially for your visit- and lace up your shoes for you.

The views at Humpback Rock had been worth the hour hike up to the outcrop of craggy rocks. The sunrise painted them a stunning shade of soft orange as the rays illuminated evergreen covered hills and valleys that extended in front of you to the skyline. You and Bradley watched it in silence, shoulders pressed against each other as you took it all in.

You’re cozied up on your bed for the week, flipping through a book you’d brought with you, but hadn’t touched at all until now when Bradley comes back from the showers. His hair is still damp and the ends are starting to curl a bit.

He drops a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the nightstand next to you.

You hadn’t been sure what rooming with him would be like, the two of you together 24/7 since his roommate had left to go home for the break. But it felt like you were two kids at sleepaway camp getting away with mischief rather than two broke college students only pretending to get away with mischief.

He sits down at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his thighs, “So.”

“So?” you repeat, blowing on the hot coffee before taking a sip.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been up with you?”

You wince, and it’s not because the coffee tastes like tar.

“What do you mean?” you try to ask casually.

Bradley gives you a look that says you don’t fool me, kid. “You’ve been squirrely. I didn’t want to press it, but I can tell there’s something on your mind.” He takes a sip of his own milky battery acid. “Are classes going better since you switched majors?”

You nod, looking anywhere else other than at him.

“How are things with your Dad?”

You offer him a shrug.

He sighs your name in exasperation. You can tell he is trying to tamper his frustration at your lack of cooperation.

“Is it a guy?” Bradley tries again.

You swear you feel your heart stop, because you knew what you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know how he was going to take it.

You fiddle with a string on his roommate’s comforter. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” you admit, tentatively, “But I’m nervous.”

Bradley’s eyebrows pull together as he sets his coffee aside, “C’mon, it’s just me. You can talk to me about anything.”

“It’s more of a question.” One you’re still deflecting from asking.

“Ok, well you know you can ask me anything.” His tiny dorm room feels even smaller as the two of you try to read the other’s face.

Taking a deep breath, you ask the question that’s been rattling around in your brain for weeks.

“Bradley, I was wondering if you’d be my first?”

Less than ten words. That’s all it takes to tilt Bradley’s world off its axis.

He’s loved getting to show you around UVA this week. It wasn’t where he thought he’d end up, but he hadn’t lost sight of where he was going. He was going to be a Naval Aviator one way or another. He just also got to have a normal college experience too, one he’d been excited to share with you.

Bradley had originally been invited to go stay with one of his friends at his family’s beach house, but when you called and asked about coming to visit Charlottesville, it was an easy choice for him. He’d pick you every time.

It had been even better getting to cross off some of the things on the bucket list he’d made for his Senior Year with you in tow, like the hike he’d taken you on this morning.

He loves the views from up there and thought it would be something you’d like too, but he’d never done the hike early enough to catch the sunrise before. It was actually something he was planning on going the morning of graduation as a symbolic way to end his time at UVA, but getting to do it with you was special in its own way.

And while he’d caught you lost in thought more than a few times over the last few days as he showed you around, he never in a million years would have ever expected you to ask him that.

Bradley knows all the words you just used, but they don’t make sense to him in that order.

His brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out if there is any possible way he could have misinterpreted you.

“Your first…”

You take another deep breath and tip your chin up in resolve before looking him dead in the eye, there’s so much vulnerability reflected in them, “I haven’t had sex before, Bradley. And I’m really hoping that my first time can be with you.”

Bradley wants to tell you to put your Styrofoam cup down because he’s worried the tight grip you have on it might crush it, but he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

He didn’t realize when his leg started bouncing until he sees you glance down at it.

Shooting to his feet and off his bed, he goes to lean against his recently decluttered desk. There’s too much restless energy coursing through him to just sit like he isn’t completely reeling.

“Shouldn’t you want to do this with someone special? Like with rose petals and all that shit?” He scrubs a hand over his face. Rose petals and all that shit? God, he sounds like such a fucking dumbass, but he’s struggling to keep up.

And if he’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty surprised to learn you’re still a virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but he knows you’ve had at least one serious boyfriend since you’ve gone to college. He figured that you got asked out all the time. He saw the way that some of the guys in his buddy’s frat were looking at the pretty girl with the dimples and big smile.

The girl who just asked him to be her first.

He hates the way your shoulders have slumped forward, like you’re trying not to cave in on yourself, “So, you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that.” His answer takes him by surprise.

The only other sound in the room other than his pounding heart is the whir of the air circulating in his dorm.

“Would it help to make a pro con list?” you offer, less than helpfully with a little shrug.

“Jesus Christ,” Bradley mutters under his breath, looking up at the speckled ceiling trying to decode the flecks like tea leaves. “She’s cracking jokes like she didn’t ask me to make her come.”

“Technically, I didn’t say anything about that. I just asked you to be my first.”

“I’m not taking your virginity and not giving you an orgasm,” he states, and your eyes get wide. He runs his hands through his hair. “Sex makes things complicated, kid. We’ve got a good friendship.”

You sit up straighter on his roommate’s bed and bring your knees to your chest. It exposes the backs of your thighs and he has to shake the mental images of skin on skin out of his head.

There’s a look on your face that tells him you feel ridiculous even asking him, “Do you think you’re going to fall in love with me or something?”

“No,” Bradley says, honestly.

He knows you’re just trying to make a point.

The two of you have been friends for over a decade. He knows he cares about you- he always has- but he couldn’t imagine what anything other than just friendship would look like with you.

You nod in agreement, like you had been anticipating the answer before you’d even asked him the question.

“And do you think I’m going to fall in love with you?” you ask, your head tilting to the side.

He doesn’t even blink, “You can do better than me.”

And he means it.

Even if there was something more between the two of you, you’ve always been too good for him. And knowing him, he’d find a way to fuck it up. You’re the last person in the world he’d ever want to hurt. He’d let you down before, he doesn’t want to do it ever again.

You shoot him a disappointed look, like you don’t like hearing him say that about himself. And he’s oddly touched that you’re defending him against himself.

“You’d literally be doing me a favor.”

Bradley is still surprised that he hasn’t ended this conversation yet. The two of you were supposed to go to the movies, but that definitely wasn’t happening now.

“I’m not saying no,” he says, “But I need you to help me understand. Why me? Why now?”

“Bradley, I want it to be with you because there’s no one else I’ll ever feel as comfortable with as I do with you,” you explain.

He watches as you unfold yourself and climb off the bed, coming to stand in front of him. You gingerly reach out and put your hand on his forearm, like you don’t want to startle him. Not that he’d be able to move anyways since it feels like the soles of his feet are cemented to the floor.

“I keep waiting for it to not feel like such a big thing, but every time it seems like it’s going to happen, I freeze. And I know you’d take care of me, and I’m not talking about orgasms.” You stumble over the word a bit, not fully meeting his eyes as you say it. “It’s scary enough as a girl and I’m worried I’m going to be too in my head with anyone else. But I also don’t want to look back and have any regrets, and I know I wouldn’t have any with you.”

The mention of regrets makes his stomach twinge. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

You are looking at him with such open sincerity. He has never been good with talking about his feelings, he’s always been the type to bottle things up, while you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. It was just another way that you were braver than him.

“I know it’s a lot,” you say, letting go of him to take a step back, like you want to give him breathing room, “So if it’s too big of an ask. Or if it’s not something you’re comfortable with-”

Bradley shakes his head cutting you off, “It’s not that at all, kid. I just haven’t done this before.” Your eyebrow scrunches together in confusion. “I mean, I have,” he corrects, “But it’s not the same. All the girls I’ve been with had already had experience. And if we were going to do this, I would want to make sure it’s as nice for you as it can be.”

“So you’d be my first and I’d be yours? Well, kind of.” You give him a little smile, it’s a shy but hopeful thing. There’s only a hint of your dimples, but it’s enough. And he feels that practical part of him that had been holding back soften at the sight of it.

He doesn’t think he’s ever said no to you, excluding the times you tried to get him to give you his beer at the house parties he took you to in high school, and that was more out of self-preservation from a healthy fear of your mom than anything else.

When you wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift? He took you to the abandoned parking lot, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have your learner’s permit yet. When you wanted to learn how to throw a punch? He was making sure you knew not to tuck your thumb under your fingers, so that you didn’t break your own thumb instead of someone’s nose.

He’s always had your back and you’ve had his. That’s how it was between the two of you.

You’ve already said it, but he needs to hear it again, “You really want to do it?”

“I really want it to be you, Bradley. I really want to do this with you. I trust you the most.”

He’s always been willing to help you with anything you’ve ever asked of him, why should this be any different? What’s a couple orgasms between friends?

“Ok,” Bradley nods. If it’s to reassure you or himself, he couldn’t say. “I’ll do it. We can do it.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, like you were fully prepared for him to let you down gently, “Really?”

You didn’t ask for his why he was agreeing, but he was going to give it to you anyway.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I lost mine to Samantha Prescod after the game against Centennial that got us a spot at State that year,” he waits until he sees the recognition cross your face before continuing, “But I had also just learned about my mom’s diagnosis and I was trying to find anything I could do to not think about it.” He rubs at a spot underneath his collarbone, it never got any easier talking about his mom. “I think she assumed that I’d done it before, because we didn’t really talk about it. She was there and into it, so it just sort of happened. Actually, I’m pretty sure she only slept with me because she wanted to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, because they got back together like three days later.”

It’s probably for the best that Samantha Prescod lives on the other side of the country now because you look livid. Your eyes spark with anger and disbelief on his behalf.

“It was years ago, it’s fine, kid” he shrugs, trying to brush off your concern. “But if I had a do-over, I don’t know if I’d make the same choice again. And that’s not something I’d ever want for you.” You deserve the rose petals, but he’ll do his best for you. “So we can do it, but I have one condition.”

The relief on your face and the way the tension in your shoulder releases only solidifies his decision.

“Tell me,” you say, taking a half-step towards him, “I want you to be comfortable too.”

Bradley pushes off his desk and meets you the rest of the way, “If you even think you’re feeling uncomfortable- about any of it- I need you to tell me. And we’ll stop and figure out where to go from there. If it’s a change of position, if it’s a full stop and order pizza instead, we’ll do that.” He pauses and reaches out to tip your chin up. “I’ll do whatever you need, got it?”

You throw your arms around him, and his wrap around you just as easily. Your hair smells like the travel sized shampoo he’d picked up for you, figuring you wouldn’t want to use his 2-in-1. You murmur your thank you into his shirt followed by a fuck Samantha Prescod that makes him squeeze you just a bit tighter to him in affection.

When you step back and look at him, your lips twitch upwards, “What’s with the look, Bradshaw? Don’t tell me you’re going to lie back and think of England?”

That makes him chuckle, your joke lightening the mood in only the way that you can do. He rolls his eyes in equal parts exasperation and fondness.

“God, I haven’t been this nervous since I lost my own virginity. I was so stressed I was going to blow my load in two pumps and lose my street cred.”

You snort and send him a smirk, “Well, you must have done just fine. I overheard some glowing reviews in the girl’s bathroom on more than one occasion.”

“I maybe lasted ten trusts, but I had the good sense to eat her out after,” he admits, and then tacks on for good measure, “I’ve gotten better since then.”

“What a stud,” you tease.

This is easier, this feels like the two of you. This should be fun, it shouldn’t feel serious. He can make it good for you.

You look up at him shyly from under your lashes, “So how do we do this?”

He feels like he only just wrapped his head around the idea of it, but now he was facing the very real possibility of seeing you very naked very soon.

“You want to do it now?” Bradley blinks.

“I mean, if you’re up for it.” You scrunch your nose when you realize you’ve made a terrible double entendre. “No pun intended, I promise.”

He wipes his hands on his pants.

“You sure?” he asks again.

“I’m sure, Bradley. As long as you are too.”

He nods, “Then I guess we just…”

He’s not sure where he was going to go with that. But he’s spared from being roasted by you for making some sure to be lame birthday suit joke because you’re untying the bow on the soft lounge shorts you’d thrown on after your shower from the hike, and all the words get trapped in his throat.

You don’t look at Bradley as you slide your shorts down your legs. And you definitely don’t look at him when you pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in only a soft green mesh bra and your cotton underwear. They’re mismatched, but sex with Bradley wasn’t originally on the Spring Break To-Do List agenda for today.

In fact, you hadn’t even been sure you were going to go through with asking him until he brought up the point that he knew you had something on your mind because you apparently had no poker face.

While it felt like you had a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach, you also knew wholeheartedly that this was the right choice for you. Everything he had said had solidified that for you.

You weren’t sure how you were ever going to thank him for this, but you had a lifetime of friendship with Bradley to figure it out.

His room cast in the soft afternoon light, the blinds only partly closed. There are little streaks of gold that line the plaid comforter on his bed. He’d been right, Charlottesville had stayed sunny just for you.

As you climb into it and situate yourself against his pillows, you can help but notice just how much his bed smells like him. It’s not the spicy scent you associated with the High School version of him. The woodsy and warm scent embedded in the threads of his sheets suits this grown up version of him.

You feel equal parts overdressed and underdressed in your bra and underwear. You know the latter are going to come off eventually, so you make a split-second decision to just take them off yourself under his covers. The idea of Bradley helping you to pull them off later seems like it would be too intimate based on the way the thought of it makes your cheeks heat up.

It’s practical, you’re being practical, you think to yourself.

You chance a peek at him and are surprised to see that he hasn’t budged an inch. It’s almost like he is waiting for you to get completely settled before he dares to move a muscle. His eyes are trained on the pile of your clothes on the floor, he looks lost in thought.

“Bradley?”

The sound of your voice seems to kickstart him into action.

He shucks off his shirt in that kind of reckless way that seems to be ingrained in boys and then unbuttons his pants. You’re torn between feeling like you should give him privacy and wanting to watch. What you were expecting is the way he takes the time to pick his clothes up before folding them over the back of the chair at his desk.

Your mouth goes dry as you take in the sight of his body, the diffused light perfectly outlines the shape of him. His broad shoulders are rounded with the muscles he’s gained from whatever exercises the NROTC has been putting him through. Your eyes dip down to his defined chest and over the ridges of his abs. You’ve seen him in swim trunks plenty of times, but seeing the way the muscles of his thick thighs fill out the black boxer briefs he was wearing was entirely new to you.

Bradley approaches you and then pauses as he bends down to collect your pile of clothes on the floor, his hand hesitating only for a second when he reaches for your underwear. He drapes all of your things on top of his on the chair and makes his way back to you.

The gesture makes you melt a little like a soft serve ice cream cone on a summer afternoon.

You lift the corner of the cover for Bradley and he climbs in next to you. You move closer to the wall, trying to make more room for the bulk of him in his small bed, and he shifts in even closer into you until your bodies pressed tight against one another. The curves and angles of the two of you slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.

It feels like the two of you are teetering there on the edge of something. You both know exactly where it’s going, but are unsure of how to make it from Point A to Point B. Both waiting on the other person to make the first move.

He rests his warm hand on your stomach, the muscles there jumping on their own under his touch in anticipation. Your faces are close since you’re sharing his pillow. His brown eyes are searching yours, probably looking for any sign of hesitation that you don’t feel.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.” It’s not a question, but a request.

“Overwhelmed,” you admit, “But in a good way.” He runs his palm lightly up your stomach and back down, soothingly.

“Good, that’s good,” Bradley says, clearing his throat, “You’re supposed to feel a little ‘overwhelmed, but in a good way.’” You feel your lips pull up at his gentle teasing.

He smiles softly at you. His face has always been so familiar to you. The pink from his scars have finally faded, but you wonder when his eyes start crinkling around the corners.

You let go of the comforter to run a finger down the top of his nose, “I don’t know how this has stayed so straight.” He’d been in more than a couple fights in his teen years, including one that had sent him through a sliding glass door.

“Probably the combination of a little luck and the fact that none of those guys could throw a punch,” Bradley smirks. He shifts on his side, propping himself up on an elbow looking down at you, still running his hand along your stomach. “What have you done so far?”

His fingertips circle your bellybutton and your stomach swoops like it’s on the swing carousel ride at the fair.

“Some over the clothes stuff…” you stammer. You’re having trouble focusing because all your attention is on his big hand and how it feels against your oversensitive skin. “And I have a vibrator, but ah…”

You’re so keenly aware of his hand. With every lazy circle he makes, he has you wondering if this is going to be the one where he finally moves his hand lower. That part of you in flutters in expectation because you know it’s coming.

You let out a shaky huff when his fingers trails back up your stomach.

“What is it?” Bradley’s hand stops moving. “What are you thinking?”

“Honestly?” you say, trying not to squirm, “I’m getting really horny and you keep teasing me.”

He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at your overshare, and there’s amusement in his eyes.

“You know, some people call it foreplay,” he drawls. You’d roll your eyes but his fingertips are by your bellybutton again and you want him to keep going. “You ready for more?” You nod a few times because if he doesn’t touch you soon you might just crawl out of your skin. “Ok, gonna stop ‘teasing’ you now.”

This time his hand doesn’t stop at your bellybutton, it keeps moving down, down.

You stutter over a breath when Bradley’s fingers touch your clit. You feel yourself melt a little further into his mattress. He’s making easy circles, letting you get used to someone’s fingers other than your own on the most sensitive part of you. Your hands are clutching tightly to his comforter, unsure of what else to do with them.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me,” he murmurs. You feel your face heat up. He’d just given you a direction, but it sounds almost indecent coming out of his mouth.

You shift, moving your legs apart further for him, until he secures your left between his own, opening you up even more. You know you’re wet and now he does too. Bradley’s fingers slide easily over you as he increases the pressure on your clit. You can feel the intensity of his gaze on you watching for your reaction as he figures out what you like the most.

It doesn’t take him long to learn your body. You don’t know whether to be impressed with him or embarrassed with yourself at how quickly he’s worked you up.

Your breathing feels so loud in your ears in the quiet room, every breath and sigh is amplified. There’s a certain thrill in not knowing how he’s going to touch you next, your own fingers pale in comparison now.

His warm breath coasts down the side of your neck causing you to shiver at the sensation. It makes goosebumps break out along your arms and your nipples pull taut.

He notices. Of course he notices.

“Are you cold?” His voice is low in your ear.

“No, I-” Oh god, you’re right there. “B-bradley, I’m-” You’ve made yourself orgasm plenty of times, but you’ve never shared that part of yourself with anyone else before. No one knows what you sound like or what you look like when you come. But now, Bradley was going to have the piece of you too. A whine escapes you without your permission.

“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you.”

You’re seeking and searching, but it’s Bradley’s fingers that have the answer.

And you come with your stomach twitching and hips jerking as he murmurs praise in your ear.

His fingers slow down, featherlight on your clit, but your heart is still racing when he rasps, “There’s one, you up for another?”

Bradley loves that moment during sex when he hears that first gasp or moan. He loves learning what sounds of satisfaction he can pull from his partner. He loves knowing he earned it. But he never in his life could have ever anticipated hearing those sounds from you.

In his bed. Because of him.

He didn’t expect the lick of heat that curled up his spine at the shape of your legs and the curve of your ass as you were stepping out of your shorts. He’d never seen anything so strangely endearing as it was watching you shimmy your underwear off under the shield of his covers.

Every hitch in your breath made his blood run hotter in his veins. He was trying to control his cock, but he’d started getting hard the second you’d pulled your shirt off. Your bra was some kind of sheer thing that left nothing to the imagination, and while he wasn’t trying to check you out- because that’s not how it was between the two of you- he couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered down.

You’re slippery, wet, and warm. And he knows he can make you come again.

“Do you want me to use my fingers now?”

You crack an eye open at him, it’s the first time you’ve opened your eyes since he first touched you. Your eyes are bright in that way that only comes with an orgasm. “I thought you already were.”

“Such a smartass,” he grins.

Bradley changes the unhurried circles he’d been making on your clit to the upstroke that made your hips jerk up into his hand the first time he’d tried it. The little noises you’re making have him fighting the urge to grind himself against you for some relief of his own. He’s still got your knee tucked between his own; where there had been a hint of polite space between your bodies, the way you’re writhing now has him pressed up against your hip.

You gasp, breathily, “Oh, you’re hard.” The disbelief is evident in your voice, but it’s the look in your eyes that he doesn’t know what to make of, something like surprise.

He’s been trying to be a gentleman, this is about you and not him. There might not be anything romantic happening between the two of you, but this was hot and he was more than a little turned on. And he knows you are too because he can feel how wet you are under his fingers.

“’Course I am,” Bradley says, nudging his nose against your temple, “I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed half naked.” He didn’t want you to feel like you were in this on your own, so he lightly rocks against you. He wants you to feel him, he wants you to know he is into this too. “Are you ready more?”

“I’m ready, I want more,” you confirm, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Your breath hitches as he teases you with just the tip of his finger.

He’s been told before he has big hands and thick fingers, he’s always taken it as a compliment in the past, but now he’s scanning your face for any trace of discomfort as he sinks one into you.

Your eyebrows twitch then smooth out and your mouth drops open as he starts pumping his finger into you in a smooth rhythm.

“That feels nice,” you sigh, airily.

He knows you like it when your hips tip up just a fraction. His comforter is bunched around your waist and your nipples are peaked against the see-through fabric of your bra. He gets his thumb on your clit and you whimper as you tentatively roll your hips against his fingers.

Bradley hums his approval, “Atta girl. There you go, find what feels good for you.” His voice sounds low even to his own ears, a throaty rumble. He feels you clench around his fingers and it sets his pulse racing. It’s a piece of information he tucks away for himself.

He’s gentle on your clit, but now that he knows you’re into it he’s setting a more purposeful pace with his fingers.

You’ve got your bottom lip pinned between your teeth, like you’re trying to swallow down your sounds. He didn’t realize how much he liked hearing these new sounds from you until you started trying to muffle them. On the next slide of his finger into you, he knows exactly what he’s looking for.

You suck in a sharp breath of surprise when he finds it.

“Is that the right spot, kid?” He sounds so smug. You curse and your hand clutches at his shoulder. “You want to try a second finger?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Yes,” you rock into his hand, “Yes, please.”

“Whatever you want, Miss Manners.” His chest feels like he’s taken a shot of Fireball. “You’re so polite when you’re trying to get your way.”

“I’m always polite,” you challenged weakly, pressing your head further into his pillow.

“Mhm,” he indulges, fondly, “You’re the sweetest girl I know.”

And then he fills you with two fingers.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you gasp, offering more of yourself to him.

Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder as he lets your whimpers and whines guide his hands.

The two of you have your eyes fixed on the way the tendons of the visible part of his forearm are flexing before it disappears under the covers as he works you.

Bradley curls his fingers into that spongy part of you and your hand flies to his wrist, gripping him tight. It makes him pause, worried that he might have pushed you too far too fast.

“No, no. D-don’t stop,” you plead, desperately, “I’m so close. Keep going, please.” You squeeze his wrist encouragingly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he soothes. He focuses his efforts on that spot again now that he knows you weren’t wanting him to slow down, but rather trying to hold him in place. His fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit working in tandem to get you there again.

“I just- yes. Like that. Oh fuck. Keep doing that. Oh my god. Please, Bradley.”

He’s heard you say his name a lot of different ways, but never like this.

Your back arches and you twist yourself towards him, burying your face against him and keening into the hollow of his throat as you come around his fingers.

You jerk and writhe into his hand, your knee slips free of his and your thighs clamp together around him. Bradley rolls off the arm he’d been leaning on and brings it to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer and holding you to him as he steadily works you through it until you’re loose-limbed in his arms.

He waits until your rapid pants have evened out before he slips his fingers from you. The displeased sound that you make makes the corners of his mouth twitch. He should have known you’d be bossy. He rubs gentle circles into the divots at the base of your neck as you come down.

Bradley can feel your lips graze the side of his neck when you finally speak, “So, um, let me know if you need a letter of recommendation or anything. I’d be happy to pass one along to your next partner.” You languidly prop yourself up on his chest and he notes with pride that you look a little flushed. “But, seriously, I get it now.”

He huffs a laugh as he toys with the end of your hair, “I’m glad it lived up to the hype. Well, at least that part of it.”

You press your lips together like you’re deciding something, tracing idle shapes on his stomach, and he can’t decide if he thinks you’re doing it without realizing it or if you’re the one doing the teasing this time. Your eyes flick down to his visibly hard cock and he feels his face heat up, “Can I?”

“Do you want to?” Bradley wants this experience to be everything you need and want it to be, but something about the tables turning here and the idea of you being the one to touch him like that makes his heart pound.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you softly tell him, resting your chin on your shoulder. The tender way you’re looking at him makes his teeth ache.

“Ok, but only for a little bit,” he agrees. Bradley knows he’s walking a tightrope with this, he’s aching and more than ready to be touched, but he doesn’t want to come all over your hand.

He plants his feet into his mattress and lifts his hips enough to pull off his boxer briefs, sighing in relief as his cock bobs free.

“That can’t be average,” you mutter under your breath.

He doesn’t know if you meant to have said it out loud but he smirks all the same, “I’ve never been average a day in my life, kid, Grade A student here.”

A groan slips out of him as your tentative fingers grasp his cock. There’s a lack of finesse in the way you touch him, your hand isn’t nearly as well-practiced as his own. He wraps his hand over yours, guiding your strokes as he shows you just what he likes.

“You can grip it a little firmer,” he coaches. You nod studiously, like you’re going to be tested on it later. Together the two of you work him from root to tip.

Bradley had never given much thought to his size until now. He knew he was big, but seeing that your thumb couldn’t reach the tips of your fingers when your hand was curved around him was an ego boost he didn’t know he needed.

You get more confident with every glide up and down the length of him. Your tricky thumb sweeps over the tip, collecting what precum had gathered there, and it makes your hand slide easier over him. When he accidentally thrusts into your hand, you grin and there are those dimples again.

“Ok, ok,” he blows out a shaky breath, stilling your hand with his. “We gotta stop or I’m going to come. And I’m not about to be a one pump chump.”

“It sounded like you’re more of a ten pump chump, if I remember correctly,” you tease, looking all too pleased with yourself. “Don’t worry, Bradshaw, your street cred is safe with me.”

He shakes his head in amused disbelief, “You’re such a goddamn menace. I knew I shouldn’t have told you that part.” He surprises the both of you when he wraps an arm around you and rolls to pin you under him.

And it’s like all the air is sucked out of the room because your thighs are cradling his hips and his cock is resting heavy on your stomach.

Neither one of you dare to move. He’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right now, he feels out of his depth as he watches you watching him.

His tongue feels thick in his mouth, “Are you on-”

You nod before he even finishes the question.

“Do you have-”

He nods before you finish yours.

“What did you promise me?” he prompts, squeezing the dip of your waist.

You hold up your pinky to him, “I’ll tell you.” He wraps his own crooked one around yours and gives it a shake.

Bradley doesn’t know what comes over him, but he drops a kiss to your shoulder as he reaches over you into the drawer of his nightstand to fish out what he needs. He’s thankful when you don’t comment on it because he wouldn’t even know how to explain it.

He leans back on his knees and rolls the condom on with practiced ease, then flicks open the cap to the bottle of lube he’s also grabbed and drizzles it over his cock.

“Am I not…” you trail off. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound this shy with him before.

“You’re plenty wet,” he assures you, pumping himself- once, twice- just enough to coat himself, “But this’ll be good too. I think you’ll like it.”

Bradley settles back over you, one arm braced by your head and the other on your hip, as your hands come up to rest lightly on either side of his ribcage. He rocks against you to demonstrate; the head of his cock nudges your clit with each silky pass. You exhale heavily at the sensation as he eases you into the motion of it, as he shows you what it’s like with another person.

You’re holding him close, and in just a moment the two of you will be the closest two people can be.

He makes only enough room to reach down between your bodies, only looks away from your face long enough to line himself up with you. There is such trust in your eyes as you gaze up at him, it’s not something Bradley takes for granted.

You nod, your fingers stroking his sides.

God, does he want this to be good for you.

He takes a breath.

And then he’s shifting forward and pressing in.

Bradley thrusts into you with all the careful gentleness you’d expect from him.

His thumb skimming along your forehead as he pushes in, in, in.

When he found that spot inside of you with his fingers, you thought you were going to fly away from the intensity of it, but then he’d pulled you into the safety of his arms and you felt like you could fall apart because he’d be keeping the pieces of you together.

He’s been so good to you. He is so good to you. He’s the best person you know.

The more of him he gives you, the less you feel like you can catch your breath.

You feel hot, hot all over. And much fuller than you’ve ever been.

Some sound must make its way out of you because Bradley offers you a low soothing noise before you feel his lightly chapped lips against your temple.

There’s something about this that reminds you of the time he tried to teach you how to skateboard. Always waited until you told him you were ready, until you found your balance. He’d held your hand as you cautiously rolled along the sidewalk, you were less worried about falling with him by your side. Only this time, his hand is on your waist and the only movements are his hips against yours as he rocks into you.

Little by little. Inch by inch.

You clutch at his biceps at the slight stinging sensation and you feel him hesitate.

“It’s just a lot,” you whisper. His fingers flex on your waist.

“You’re doing so good, just a bit more,” Bradley murmurs, encouragingly.

There’s pressure, there’s a give, and then there’s relief when his hips finally, finally meet yours.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath.

Your eyes had flickered shut somewhere along the way. You open them to see that Bradley’s face and chest are flushed pink, the muscle of his jaw flexing. The furrow between his eyebrows is so deep that you release your grip on him to smooth out the lines with an unsteady fingertip.

He reads the question in your eyes.

“You’re just really tight,” he grits out, voice strained.

You assumed that was a good thing, but he’s holding himself so tense above you that now you’re not sure. “Do I-,” you fumble over the words, “Does this feel good for you?”

He huffs an incredulous laugh, and brushes back some hair from off your face, “You feel really fucking good, sweet-”

Your whimper cuts him off when he pulls out a fraction and then pushes back in.

His brown eyes take you in as he does it again, more this time. Pulling out just a bit- just enough- and then filling you again. The discomfort fading more with each thrust as he guides his hips to yours until yours are tilting up to meet his seeking more.

It’s a conversation between your bodies, the give and the take of it all as Bradley introduces you to this new unspoken language. You feel yourself flutter around his cock, stretched wider than you’ve ever been.

You feel that heat spreading underneath your skin again as he surely and steadily pumps into you. It feels like your nerves are on fire. You didn’t expect to even come once and you’re well on your way to a third.

He reaches down and hooks your leg over his hip. His hand slides up along the outside of your thigh and under your ass, tilting your hips up towards his even more. He’s so much deeper like this. Your hands slide into his hair, tugging at his curls.

“Bradley, I-I think… I feel-”

“You’re gonna come,” he rasps, nodding at you. Encouraging, coaxing.

He grinds his pelvis against your clit with every deliciously slow roll into you.

Your mouth drops open at the feel of it, it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You don’t think your faces have ever been closer than they are now. Bradley is breathing your air, and you’re breathing his. Bradley’s pupils are blown wide, his heavy-lidded eyes are locked on yours. You didn’t know there could be so many shades of brown. His curls are a mess and it’s all because of you. He licks his lips and your breath catches in your throat when his eyes dart down to your parted mouth.

His next thrust into you hits that spot inside of you just so right that it has you gasping.

It’s so good, it’s too good, it’s overwhelming.

You wrap your arms around his neck clinging to him, your face buried against him. Bradley drops his head to your shoulder, you feel his lips brush against your clavicle. Your head moves away on instinct, making more room for him if he wants to do it again.

You get lost in the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the places you’ve heard about and read about, but have never felt for yourself until now. He’s still got your ass gripped in his hand, whereas your hands can’t stay in one spot. They’re tangled in his hair, running over his shoulders and down his abs, gliding over his back aided by the sheen of sweat he’s worked up.

You’re not trying to hold yourself back, but it feels like you’re standing on the tallest diving board at the pool, your toes curled around the edge, but still too nervous about the drop to jump.

“C’mon, kid. You’re right there,” he breathes hard, “I need you to come for me. Just one more.”

He gets his fingers back on your clit and it’s the end of you. Your back is arching so much you think you might snap. Your toes curl so tights they may never unfurl. The force your orgasm overtakes you, demanding everything you have up to offer and then some.

You hear Bradley’s moan as you pulse around his cock, trembling under him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. His hips stutter against yours, finally losing that steady rhythm he’d set, you pull him tighter to you and it’s not long until he comes too.

It’s all white noise. All you can feel is your heartbeat pounding, until little pieces of the world come back into focus.

The hum of the fan.

The beam of warm afternoon light through the blinds.

The smell of the now cold coffee on his nightstand.

In the after, you’re all too aware of every place your body is touching Bradley’s.

He’d somehow managed to roll on his back and had taken you with him. He was literally just inside of you, but yet it feels like your leg draped over his thigh is somehow more intimate. A prickly self-conscious feeling settles over you. Unsure of what the rules were for friends who just had sex, you attempt to peel yourself off of him, but the heavy arm over your waist keeps you in place.

“Come back here, kid,” Bradley mumbles, his eyes still closed, “I need to cuddle after I come, so I’m gonna need you to indulge me here for a moment.” He strokes a soothing hand down your back. And while he says it’s for him, you know he’s still trying to take care of you.

He hums when you lay back down. You set a hand on his chest. He reaches for it with his free one and threads your fingers together. It makes you melt further into him.

You feel a little different. But mostly, you feel like a weight you didn’t know you’d been carrying had been lifted off of you.

Your first time was everything you hoped it would be. You were safe and cared for, and you already knew, you’d never have any regrets about it. And it was all because of him.

“Thank you, Bradley,” you say, softly.

“Anything for you, kid.”

Your early morning catches up with you as you lay there, warm and secure. Your eyelids get heavier with each pass of Bradley’s hand along your spine. And you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat under your ear.

You’re still you. And Bradley is still Bradley.

It was just… something between friends.

A few hours later the two of you are still in his bed.

Only now you’re clothed and swapping the cartons of Chinese food that he’d ordered while you’d napped against his chest, and fighting over the fortune cookies watching some reruns of old sitcoms. You couldn’t hear their laugh tracks over your own.

The last couple of days you had at UVA fly by just as quickly.

You don’t know how, but the two of you managed to cross of all the things on his Spring Break To-Do List. And before you knew it you were back at the airport.

Bradley had insisted on walking you in, wanting to see you off.

Neither one of you has ever been good with goodbyes. So you don’t give him one, instead you reach for your bag and tell him, “Ok, see you in June.”

Bradley doesn’t let go, clearly confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

You grin because it feels like a checkmate.

“You didn’t think you’d be getting that diploma all by yourself, did you?”

He looks thunderstruck.

You and your mom already had the plane tickets and hotel room booked. Your stepdad wouldn’t be able to come, but he was planning on sending your mom with one of the cakes from his family’s bakery. You’d been tasked with finding out what flavor, carrot cake or peanut butter- Bradley’s two favorites- but you could iron out the details with him later.

You’d had a busy week, plus it was more fun this way.

Bradley tugs you into his arms, yours wrap around him just as easily as they always have.

“June?” he asks into the crown of your head.

“June,” you promise.

And when he lets you go- for real this time- it’s with a smile that takes up his whole face.

He doesn’t say goodbye either, “Be good, kid. See you in June.”

𝐍𝐎𝐖

You avoid Rooster for the rest of the night.

And Jake too, for that matter. Bless Javy for finding ways to distract him because you could tell than man was chomping at the bit for more details. But you’d already given him more than enough.

You could have lied, you probably should have lied. It might have been easier than feeling like you’d hung up part of yourself on the drying line for everyone to see. But in that moment, the thought of lying and saying anyone else’s name other than Rooster’s had made your stomach turn.

Because it was the truth, he was your first, but he was also your best.

When you come out of the bathroom, there’s no missing Rooster. He’s leaning against the wall by the entrance. It takes him a moment to notice you since he looks lost in thought, but when he does you feel pinned to the wall by the intense look in his eyes.

He stands to his full height as you approach, you know he wants to talk about it.

You shake your head at him, “We don’t need to do this.”

“No, kid, we really do.” He takes you by the arm and leads you to a quieter spot away from everyone else.

“It was just a game,” you start before he can, “And now I know more about everyone’s sex life than I ever wanted to.” He crosses his arms over his chest at your attempt at deflection. “Look, I’m really sorry if that was something you wanted to keep a secret or just between us. I should have asked you first if that was ok to share.”

“I don’t care about that.” Rooster waves you off and takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “All this time and I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

“Are we really doing this? Here and now?”

You peer around him to look and see if anyone is watching the two of you, it feels like a showdown. But all the Daggers are occupied, probably on purpose. You’ve never seen Mickey with such a serious look of concentration on his face.

“Here and now,” he confirms.

You feel flustered, “Rooster, it’s been 12 years and we haven’t talked about it once-”

“Bradley,” he cuts you off. He takes another step towards you, so you’re toe to toe with him. “I’ve always been Bradley to you.”

The tension that had crept up in your shoulders releases a bit.

“Bradley,” you say, softly. “Listen, I’ve had a lot of good sex since then. Great sex even.” He presses his lips together and nods. “And with other men, if I felt like they weren’t putting in their best effort I’d kick them out because the bar was set very high early on.”

You see him fight back a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, with pride.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, you know he hears it because his eyes take on a richer shade of brown. You both feel the shift, tension churning between the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “But I was telling the truth when I said you were my best. Probably because of the way you made sure I knew that you cared. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just different with you.”

You feel his finger graze the back of your hand.

The sounds of the Hard Deck fade into the background as you stare at each other. Entire conversations are being had as you look into his eyes and he looks into yours. Words and sentences spoken with glances.

Just friends don’t look at each other like this.

“It’s never been like this,” you whisper, “We’ve never been like this before.” You gesture at how close he is to you.

How he’s almost got you backed up against a wall.

How he’s looking at you like you’re his.

“I know.”

He says your name and your heart somersaults in your chest.

“I want to see your tattoo. I keep finding myself looking for it when we’re all at the beach. And then I get annoyed, knowing that people have seen it and I haven’t.”

“My tattoo? Bradley, what-”

“I want to see your tattoo,” he repeats like it’s a fact. “And I want to punch Seresin in his smug face every time he flirts with you.”

You roll your eyes, “Jake doesn’t flirt with me, not really. He just likes riling you up.”

“What if I said I wanted to try this as more than friends.” Bradley settles a large hand on your hip. “What if I said that since you’ve moved here I’ve had a hard time keeping my head on straight.”

“Bradley.” His name falls out of your mouth so easily now that it can.

“I want to take you home with me. I want to kiss you. I want to make you come. I need to know if you sound the same in my bed. And then I want to take you out for breakfast and buy whatever fancy coffee you want and as many pancakes as you can eat.”

You’ve been told that you wear your heart on your sleeve, but he has always worn his on his face. There’s no mistaking the open want on his face.

“Bradley, it’ll be different this time.” For so many reasons.

Because it’s not a favor being asked. It’s not some new experience being tried with the person you trust the most, with everything. You’d be on equal footing. It wouldn’t be a friend helping a friend, the two of you would be crossing that line between friends and more because you want each other in that way.

“I want it to be different, sweet girl,” he says, cupping your face in his familiar hand, “I’m ready for it to be different, if you are.”

He looks from your eyes down to your parted lips.

“We didn’t do that last time,” you whisper. Feeling brave, you reach out and run your fingers along the buttons of his shirt.

“No, we didn’t,” he agrees. His eyes are trained on his thumb as he skims it under your lip. “And that’s a damn shame.”

Bradley’s face is all you can see. Warm eyes, a still-straight nose, and a soft smile that is for you and you alone.

He dips down and your eyes flutter closed, your head tipping up on its own in anticipation.

His lips brush your cheek. It’s not enough.

You tug on his collar, but he chuckles and kisses your cheek again, lingering longer this time.

“I’m not kissing you for the first time around the corner from a bathroom,” he rasps.

You open your eyes and see the amusement in his. He always did like teasing you.

“Oh, where do you plan on doing it then?”

“Outside your front door, like a gentleman,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You can’t help but grin because Bradley Bradshaw can’t wait the extra 10 minutes it would take to drive to his place instead of yours. He wants that kiss just as badly as you do. You watch as a matching smile to yours blooms across his face.

It feels normal to slide your fingers between his much larger ones. It feels right as you lead the way out of the Hard Deck with him only a step behind you.

As it turns out, he only makes it as far as the Bronco before he’s spinning you back towards him and pressing you against it. His hands are on your hips and yours are wrapped around his neck as he kisses you for the very first time.

Bradley kisses you like a man who knows what he wants. And what he wants is you.

It’s not tentative in the way that first kisses usually are.

He kisses you like he knows you.

Because he does.

Later, when he closes the door to the Bronco for you, it feels like the end of one thing. But as he slips his fingers into yours when he backs out of the parking space it feels like the beginning of something new.

That night tangled in Bradley’s sheets- he’d kissed you at every light which made those extra 10 minutes it took to get to his home worth it- he makes your back arch and your toes curl as he makes you come with his fingers and mouth and tongue and cock. His lips dropping kiss after kiss on every part of you that he can reach. Because he can, because you want him and he wants you.

The way he touches you tells you that he remembers it all.

He was you first, but what you wouldn’t learn until later, is that he would also be your last.

And he’d be the only man to ever have your entire heart.

Happy Birthday Jordan! An AU just for you! 💖 I adore you and I hope this year is the best one yet!

A big thank you to @callsignspark and @ofstoriesandstardust for their help and beta reading and their woogirling! I appreciate you two so much!

Author's Note: this was a "what-if" AU set in the 'Like I Can' universe! If you want to read about what really happens you can read it here!

You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun imagine #topgun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader

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waywardcrow · 4 months

Text

Dress.

Summary: After a mission where they crossed a line, Bucky decides to talk about what happened that night with you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader.

WC: Almost 1600.

TW: Avengers kind of things, talk about weapons, sad reader and sad Bucky, misunderstendings, agents talking shit because of jealousy, SMUT (do not interact if you're not +18) some kissing, dancing and boners lol, semi public make out, oral (f recieving) fingering, hint of other things but not so much because I'm so bad a t this, sorry, let me know if I missed something.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.

You hated everything that night, the happy people who were eager to get drunk and forget about the ending year, the music too loud that didn’t let you think, the beautiful dress you bought for that very occasion specifically because you wanted to impress a certain super soldier in the New Year's Eve party but that was before last mission, before you messed it all up.

If you closed your eyes, you could see everything playing perfectly in your mind, how unprofessional you were, how much space Bucky put between you two in the quinjet, the tension that followed you the last days and the words of the agents who probably knew about what happen from him. It was a disaster and you wouldn’t escape from it, Tony would never let you go without an explanation if you requested a transfer to another area.

Distracted, drinking your problems you didn’t noticed Bucky’s gaze tearing apart the pretty gold dress you were wearing as if he could feel your skin against his like that night.

It was a simple mission, find the target, watch it until Valkyrie and Wanda could secured the evidence –an arsenal of Asgardian weapons- and then arrested everyone but your cover was necessary and thanks to your powers, the ability to manipulate brain’s perception to make your audience see what you want- make you perfect to blend with him in that shady club pretending to be just a couple looking for a good time.

Easier to say than done, Bucky fought his boner all night with you dancing too close to him, whispering things in his ear, sitting in his lap… sure you could feel how much he wanted to fuck you there in front of everybody, he indulged in his little fantasy when he feel your own arousal, he told himself it was for the mission when he took you to a semi empty corridor to kiss you dumb.

You tasted better than he imagined, like honey and salvation, Bucky was sure that if he kept kissing you he would find heaven.

“Are you ok, terminator? You look like you’re about to have an aneurysm” Sam pulled him out of his mind just in time before he got in trouble righ there in the middle of the party.

“I’m fine” he wasn’t and Sam let out a chuckle.

“Just go and talk to her, you can’t keep avoiding each other forever.”

You were avoiding him, Bucky just gave you space after you walked away from him when the mission was over, like he didn’t almost cum from having you exactly where he wanted you, with your perfect legs around him with just a thin layer of clothes between you.

“I said I’m fine” he said again, not looking at Sam when you made your way to the elevators, going after you.

It was better for you to leave early, too many drinks and you could end up crying or doing something you’ll regret, like talking to Bucky, who jumped in the elevator you called before the doors closed.

“Going to bed already?” he asked and you stared at him like an idiot, how could he look that good all the damn time? A black suit and white shirt shouldn’t make someone that hot, it was cheating “are you alright, honey?”

How have you missed his voice! A simple taste of him and you wanted more, you wanted him to touch you like that night, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like if time was against you both and every second he wasn’t making you feel all of him was a sacrilege.

“Why are you here, Bucky?”

Cornered, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, drawing his attention to your breasts, the memory of his lips pulling softly at your nipple made you want to close your legs to get some sort of friction, trying to calm the need for him.

Like he could read your mind, he licked his lips, wanting to pull your dress and bury himself in your chest but Bucky needed to have a conversation with you first.

“Are you going to avoid me forever, hon?” the super soldier lifted your chin to make you see him when you set your eyes in your heels “I can take a rejection, sweetheart but not you shutting me out completely.”

Bucky had made lots of friends with time but you were his first one, he didn’t want to lose you; you, in the other hand, were more confused than ever.

“What rejection? If anything, you’re the one who is not interested!” boldness coming from the alcohol made you talk before thinking about stopping “and don’t give me that look James Buchanan Barnes, you know perfectly what I’m talking about.”

The elevators door opened and you stormed out, going to you room, the audacity of that man!

“Can you explain to me what are you talking about?” Bucky took your hand and made you face him when you reached your door, all his cocky attitude was replaced by confusion.

“Please don’t pretend you didn’t tell Carla and Ashley what happen that night, I heard them talking the morning after in the gym” Above all the embarrassment there was hurt, you thought he could be trusted but Bucky proved you were an idiot “they were talking how you hated being assigned with me and to pretend to make out with me.”

Bucky’s heart hammered in his chest, what the hell were you talking about? He didn’t say anything, at all but you looked so sure he couldn’t speak.

“You made it very clear putting distance between us in the ride home but you didn’t have to tell them” your voice trembled, still you refused to cry, if that was the kind of man Bucky was, he didn’t deserve your tears.

“I swear I didn’t say anything, honey, I swear” he promised, making himself small to look at your eyes “I don’t know how they know, please believe me.”

You shake your head; you wanted to believe him but…

“I told no one, I really thought you were mad at me for taking advantage of the situation, that I misread it” he mumbled, desperate to prove you he was telling the truth, taking your face in his hands “I should have been more professional, more of a gentleman, ask you properly on a date, not acting like that, no matter how much I wanted it. That’s why I put space between us; Wanda and Val were looking at me like they would spray me with cold water if I breathed near you.”

Bucky wished you could read his mind to see he was honest but you still could, sensing his desperation matching yours.

“Do you really mean that?”

His heart broke at how unsure you sounded, he would spend every day of his life proving to you how much he meant it.

“I do, honey, you’re not only a friend to me, why do you think I requested to be with you in that mission?” with his arms around your waist, you put your hands in his chest to feel his heartbeat “I can’t be apart from you, I needed you close while I was gathering courage to confess my feelings but then I couldn’t hide it and…”

You interrupted him to kiss him, not giving a damn about anything but Bucky’s lips in yours. He opened the door and you took him with you to your room, tossing his jacket to the floor and taking your heels off.

“You should keep them on” he said between kisses, guiding you to your bed.

“Maybe next time” you promised, opening his dress shirt, he gave you a smirk while he took it off, like he couldn’t wait.

“This dress has to go, even if I love it.”

“I only bought it for you to take it off” you confessed, mesmerized by his hands undressing you before he placed you softly in your bed, earning a grin from him.

“Really? Well, you deserve a reward for thinking about me, honey”

Before you could ask, he was with his knees on the floor, ripping your panties to eat you out like he needed it to keep breathing.

It barely gave you time to let out a lewd moan that only encourage him more, putting your legs in his broad shoulders, nipping at your sensitive bud and teasing your entrance with his fingers.

It was real? It was the alcohol? You could think so if it wasn’t very improbable, your imagination couldn’t make this up, not something this good at least.

“Please” you begged and he shove one finger in you, then almost immediately another while licking you and going back to your clit, moaning at the taste of you, humping the mattress to get some relief, especially when you pulled at his short locks, making him groan.

“Bucky! Pleaseplease…” were the only words you could form but then he decided to replace his fingers with his tongue and you were gone, the orgasm hit you like a thousand waves and you could swear you fainted for a second, only coming back to yourself when you tasted your own arousal in his kiss.

Surprised to being this responsive with him, you kissed him back and he looked at you, fire blazing in his eyes.

“Come back to me, honey, we are just getting started” he promised against your lips and dear God, he was a man of his word. Hors later, the fireworks were loud enough outside but you both couldn’t care less, you finally have what you wanted: each other.

So this is my first time writing smut and I wanted to do it for New year's Eve, it was fun! Tell me what you think and happy new year!

Love, Lily.

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes angst

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danikamariewrites · 7 months

Text

Want Them Both

Azriel x Cassian x reader

A/n: another thought that wouldn’t leave my brain, enjoy!

Warnings: slight angst and then fluff

You had definitely had far too much faerie wine. What gave it away was how hard you were just crying on Feyre’s shoulder as she comforted you. The predicament you were in was killing you.

The mating bond had snapped for you and Azriel which made you both extremely happy. You had been close for forever and had always had a stupid crush on Azriel. When he felt the bond Azriel had told you how happy he was that the Mother and the Cauldron gave him his best friend to hold forever.

In the middle of the happiest day of your life something else happened that confused you. You had ran into Cassian coming out of Rhys’s office and as soon as you made eye contact the bond reached out to him, snapping for both of you. Cassian tried to hug you but you had ran.

You felt his hurt and confusion down the bond. You know you owed him an explanation but you were scared. As much as you love Azriel you couldn’t deny your feelings for Cassian as well. You’re so lost and confused. You don’t think you’d be able to pick just one of them.

You wouldn’t be able to break off the bond with one and keep the other. It would crush you knowing one of these sweet males was suffering while you were happy with the other. That’s why you were crying to Feyre now.

She had coaxed the story out of you after a few glasses of wine. Now you’re too exhausted to even think anymore. Leaning back on the couch with a huff you slap your hands over your eyes. “What do I do Feyre,” you groan out.

“I want both of them but what if they both don’t want me?” Your on the verge of tears again at the thought of your two crushes not wanting you. Feyre rested a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Oh honey, don’t say that. They’d be so lucky to have you.”

While you couldn’t see her Feyre was calling out to Rhys. He was currently in his office mediating the mating conversation between Cassian and Azriel. “Are you almost done. I think y/n needs to see them.” “We’re on our way.” “What happened?” “You’ll see in a moment, darling.” Feyre rolled her eyes at the smirk in his voice.

You were half asleep on Feyre when Cassian and Azriel came into the sitting room. Az was kneeling in front of you rubbing your knee while Cass laid a hand gently on your cheek, wiping away your tears. “Hey sweetheart. Why don’t we get you to bed yeah?” Cass whispered.

You nodded against Feyre’s shoulder and Azriel scooped you into his arms. By the time they got you to your room you were already asleep. Az set you down on your bed and you jolted awake. You didn’t feel fully awake though. Everything around you felt a bit hazy, like a dream.

“Sorry y/n/n, we didn’t mean to wake you.” Az said, trying to lay you back down. “S’ok,” you mumble out. “Can I have my sleep shirt?” “Yeah baby.” Cassian opened one of your dresser draws pulling out a large black shirt that used be Azriel’s.

He smiled at it while handing it over to Azriel so he could dress you. Once you were all tucked in and they both said goodnight, you stopped them before they left. “Please stay,” you looked up at them with tired doe eyes. And they couldn’t say no to you. They climbed into your cramped bed with you squished comfortably between them.

——

Waking up the next morning your hands went to rub your throbbing head. You vowed to never drink faerie wine while crying again. You’d have to thank Feyre for putting up with your dramatics and getting you to bed.

You tried to roll over but found it impossible thanks to the wall of muscle caging you in on either side. Your eyes fly open, finding the two males you were crying over last night cuddling you. You thought that was a dream.

Your heart started pounding which caused your mates to wake. You tried to calm down as two pairs of beautiful, soft hazel eyes looked up at you. “Y/n/n it’s ok,” Az coos at you, “it’s ok.” He rubs a scarred hand on your back trying to calm you.

“Do you both know?” “We do.” Cass says. You take in a shaky breath as your anxiety started to get worse. Your eyes screwed shut, trying to make this all go away. “I’m sorry.”

Azriel and Cassian look at each other confused. “What are you sorry for baby?” Az asks, worry clear in his voice. “For not telling either of you. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“Oh baby,” now it was Cassian’s turn to comfort you, “it’s ok, you must’ve been so confused. I know we were, but we talked it out and we want to know how you feel. You don’t have to tell us now, take your time. We’re here when you’re ready.”

You open your eyes again to take in their loving gazes. “I do have feelings for both of you. And I want to be with you both. If that’s what you want.” You nervously played with your fingers, waiting for their response.

“We want you too, y/n.” Cassian said with a bright smile. You let out another shaky breath, silver lining your eyes. You didn’t know you had tears left to cry after last night. You wrapped an arm around each of them, pulling them closer to you and they hugged you back. You’re mates.

You’re mates. You smile at the thought of both of these males being yours. “I love you both so much.” “We love you too baby.” Azriel whispered, kissing your head. You pulled back wiping at the tears that escaped your eyes.

“I’m sorry you guys were squished in my bed last night,” you laugh out. “Oh, we were fine sweetheart. But let’s sleep in one of the bigger beds from now on.” Cassian pinched your cheek teasing you. “Let’s get you some breakfast and something for that headache.”

You nod as he scoops you up this time. Comfortably in Cassian’s arms your mates bring you down to the kitchen. Ready to start this new journey with you.

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noonswrites · 1 year

Text

Muse

synopsis: Xavier just wants a picture of you so he can draw it. things don’t go according to plan…

warnings: blowjob, penetration, fingering

it was an accident really. a genuine, complete, accident. you just wanted to support your talented friend who had been begging you for a subject for his next painting.

“please! it doesn’t have to be a good photo of you, I just need one for reference” he says exaggeratedly as you make your way to class. his giant frame is never an inch away from yours if he can help it, and today is no different. he’s tugging on your arm like a lost puppy as he begs you to be his muse for the millionth time.

“oh, so you’re saying I take bad photos?” you reply snidely.

he grins widely, knowing your games too well by now “you know that’s not what i meant” and gives you a playful push.

“i’ll think about it xavier, but you should really find another victim”

“i believe the correct term is “muse” dork”

“keep calling me dork and see where that gets you” he puts his hands up, mimicking what he would look like “surrendering” to you.

Xavier wishes he could hide how excited he is to draw you again. He can’t wait to combine his two favorite things: you, and his obsession with art. what you don’t know is Xavier wants to take this opportunity to ask something he’s been too shy to say for years….

when the seemingly never ending school day is finally over, he walks you to your room. your hallmate left for the week, so it was just you and Xavier sprawled out on your bed. he sat at the foot of it, legs crossed while yours were draped over his lap.

he eagerly awaits you to send him a picture while you briskly scroll through your camera roll. you finally deem one appropriate for his next masterpiece, a selfie of the two of you. his arms wrapped around your neck while you’re giving him a jokingly disapproving look. at least, that’s what you think you’re sending him. Xavier however, receives a completely different image that you accidentally sent instead.

he quickly taps on the notification with his pencil ready, opening up a photo of your breasts on display. “o-oh my god”

“what?!” you exclaim, confused at his reaction.

“are you sure that’s what you want me to draw?” he says timidly.

“yeah, unless you have a problem with it i guess” it’s too late now, you’re absentmindedly scrolling through your phone.

Xavier tries to start drawing, he really does. truthfully, he started getting hard the minute he opened the photo and now he’s trying to get a grip on his pencil, which won’t stop shaking in his hand. you can feel his dick rising since your leg is still on his lap, causing you to look up.

this is when you notice he’s shaking. “Xavi, what’s wrong?”

Xavier can barely bear the nickname right now, combined with everything else he’s experiencing.

“i’m- i’m sorry. i don’t know if i can draw this” Xavier shows the phone to you and you turn a shade of red he doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

“oh shit! oh fuck i’m so sorry oh my god fuck!” you cover your face with your hands.

Xavier, although nervous, tries his best to reassure you and puts a gentle hand on your leg. “it’s ok, i just didn’t think we were at that level, you know?”

you spread your fingers, peeking your eyes through “it’s fine, really” he gives a weak, bashful smile. a part of him kind of wishes you did send it on purpose, and it’s not like he hadn’t thought of his best friend naked before…

in a desperate attempt to change the subject you ask “does that hurt?” while staring at his now erect penis that creates a tent in his sweatpants.

“um- i- “

“i can help you with it if it does- i read somewhere that it hurts when you- you know-“ words are coming out of your mouth faster than your brain can process what’s happening now… “if not we can forget this ever happened and i won’t tell anyone- i promise” you’d probably regret saying that later, but right now, you can’t help it. you’ve had the biggest crush on xavier forever and if you’re being honest, you’re in a pretty similar aroused state right now.

“i don’t know… i don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable po-“

“i want to” you cut him off “i’ve wanted to for years Xavi” you’re crawling towards him now.

“do you want to?” you ask him, although the evidence is all over his face, he looks almost pained. his mouth is slightly agape and his eyes are focused on your lips. lips that he has thought of kissing for months now, but this time, he doesn’t resist the urge.

Xavier can’t hold it anymore, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. it’s hesitant at first, both of you in shock that it’s finally happening. it takes seconds for it to get sloppy. you break apart only to climb on xavier’s lap, and you don’t miss the distressed look he wears as a result of moments apart from you. you’re quick to relieve him, sitting down with your thighs on either side of his hips, and both of you stifle a moan when your clothed cunt makes contact with his dick. now it’s your turn to grab his face and he loves every second of it, wanting nothing more than to fawn over you as you use him for your pleasure. you, however, won’t have that, stopping at nothing until he’s completely ruined.

you take his bottom lip between yours and suck on it, and Xavier swears he’s seeing stars. he starts getting messy as both of your lips are covered in each other’s spit and that alone is making him dizzy. he doesn’t even realize he’s begun to grind his hips upward trying to relieve himself in the friction you’re creating. you tell him to pull off his t-shirt and he does so immediately, and you do the same. he smoothes his hands up and down your waist as if you’re made of glass, looking you up and down with a mixture of reverence and desire. you almost want to laugh at him because you’d never imagine seeing your best friend like this, looking at you like he’d been starving for days and desperate to kiss you again, but you settle for giving him an amused smile.

“what is it?” he asks with the most precious look of confusion on his face.

“you’re so cute baby” his eyelashes flutter and he looks away, he shifts slightly while trying to pretend the new pet name doesn’t turn him on more. you can tell that he’s smiling too now, internally giddy.

you start to leave a trail of kisses down his neck, and he lets out a pleasure filled sigh. when you start to teasingly lick his abdomen he tenses up again, and you hear a soft “ah” escape his lips. you unbutton his pants and pull down his boxers and Xavier starts to tremble. he looks down at you with watery eyes and you take his dick in your hand. he lets out a hiss at your warmth.

you start to kiss his shaft and his brows furrow but his eye contact never wavers. if xavier could have this moment tattooed on his brain, he would. when you take his head in your mouth and suck he jolts, unable to control his movements at this point. you slowly take more of him into your mouth and hollow your cheeks. you start to stroke xavier’s leg with your free hand and xavier’s gaze softens at the tender gesture.

you slowly take him deeper into your mouth, astonished that you’ve made it this far without choking. “fuck” he cries as you fit all of him in your mouth. you start a slow rhythm of sliding your lips up and down his shaft and xavier lies back, helpless to your actions. you can feel how tense the muscles in his stomach and legs are, doing his best to hold back his impending orgasm. as you speed up, xavier begins to babble uncontrollably, a mixture of “you feel so good”, “you’re so pretty, fuck!”, and so on. you fondle his balls and he’s almost sent over the edge, but you pull yourself off of him just in time.

he stares at you, dazed “did i do something wrong?” god, you’d do anything for those puppy dog eyes.

“no baby, just wanted you to come inside me, is that alright?” xavier wants to pinch himself.

“y-yeah” he leans in for another clumsy kiss, drunk on the feeling of being so close to you. it’s full of tongue and lips crashing together, but quickly ends with a gasp as you guide his cock to your pussy.

xavier watches himself enter you in a trance, completely mesmerized at your facial expression and the stretch of your cunt. when your fully seated, a tear falls down his cheek. you admit, you may have overstimulated him a bit. you wipe it away with your thumb and apologize. “i’m sorry for making you wait my love” he doesn’t seem to care at this point.

Xavier reaches his arms around your waist and pulls you in closer, causing you to moan at the adjustment “you’re s-so warm” he lets out.

“can i take this off?” he says as a hand slides over the clasp of your bra.

“yeah” you reply, and he begins to fiddle with the hook. he slides it off of your shoulders.

“so, do you think i’m a catfish?” you inquire. he lets out a wholesome laugh and you follow suit. Xavier gently pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear and places his palm on your cheek.

“i think you’re the opposite of a catfish” you blush and attempt to turn your head away, but he pulls you in for another kiss. he moves to kiss the corner of your lips, then your chin, your jaw, and finally stops at your neck. he nibbles your jugular and then sucks, and your hips buck forward as he finds your sensitive spot. Xavier moans and you take this as a sign to keep moving.

you grind down on him and Xavier does his best to mentally prepare himself for the onslaught of pleasure. he’s already about to cum, holding on just so he can get you to try to finish first. he slides his hands down to your ass pushing you down on his cock while he pushes his hips up, effectively guiding himself deeper than you thought possible. you yelp and Xavier watches your features contort, repeating the action so he can listen to you moan again and again. he shifts one of his hands close to your cunt and guides a thumb to your clit, rubbing it in circles, prompting you to jolt and start bouncing on his cock more eagerly than before.

“shit- shit- fuck!” Xavier doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore, he only knows that he’s been close to cumming for more than an hour now, and he’s about to burst. you wrap your arms around his neck for stability and pick up your pace.

“oh my god” he whines and his grip on your hips tightens. you realize how close he is, so you stop your movement.

“no- no! i need it please” his head falls into your neck and you stroke his back.

“i know my love, i just need you to ask for it nicely okay?” he lifts his head and you coo at his tear stained cheeks. “do you think you can do that for me?”

“y-yeah” you start to move again immediately, not wanting to prolong his suffering any further. Xavier cant stop himself from thrusting into you, and you let him, enjoying the look in his eyes as he starts to fall apart.

“are you gonna cum soon baby?” you ask after a particularly hard thrust.

“y- yes please- please can i c-cum?” Xavier is shaking uncontrollably now, his movements are sloppy and uncoordinated.

“yes my love” you smile “but you can’t take your pretty eyes off of me okay? i want to see you” Xavier is blushing harder than ever, he’d never admit that’s what sent him over the edge. he does his best to keep his eyes on yours, his mouth open and letting out angelic moans while his nails dig into your hips. he thinks your the most beautiful person alive as you keep up your pace grinding on his cock. his brows furrow and fresh tears arise as you continue to speed up, a look of tortured confusion mixed with euphoria on his face.

“i- i can’t please!” he wails. you finally cease your movement, panting. xavier pulls you into a tight hug, kissing your sweaty body in any place he can reach.

“thank you, thank you, thank you” he repeats between kisses. you flop down onto your mattress, and xavier hovers over you, smothering your face with kisses.

“baby, i want to make you cum now. can i? please? need to watch you cum” he babbles.

“you don’t have to Xavi, but yes” you’re still catching your breath.

“i want to” and without hesitation he slides his fingers to to your sopping cunt. “so wet… such a pretty pussy” you bury your face in the pillow.

“no need to be shy my love…” his thumb rubs over your clit and your thighs clench. he pushes them open gently, eyes fixated on your pulsing cunt. he slides two fingers in, feeling his own cum inside of you and trying his best not to get hard at the sensation. he curls his fingers upward and your hips shift at the sensitivity. he holds them down with his free arm and continues his ministrations. he probes for your most delicate spot and knows he’s found it when you squeeze his arm and whimper. you lift your head again and he meets your eyes, staring at you as he quickens his pace. you’re already worked up so it doesn’t take much after that, but what sets you over the edge is his decision to take your clit into his mouth and kiss it sloppily. your legs shake and kick and he happily continues to thrust his fingers as you ride out your orgasm, grinding down on them.

now you’re truly exhausted, and Xavier curls up next to you as you continue to catch your breath. “y’know, i was going to use the painting as a way to ask you out…” you perk up at this.

“really?!” xavier beams at you.

“yeah” you pull him into a kiss and he doesn’t stop smiling.

#xavier thorpe wednesday #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe smut #wednesday #wednesday xavier #xavier x reader #xavier x y/n #xavier x you

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webslingingslasher · 2 months

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tw: depression

hey! i was wondering, how would peter react or take care of reader with depression? can be either nerdy or frat peter or any peter rly :)

sorry i am very much kinda really going thru it rn 😞

felt that. depression is fucking brutal, anon. i'm here for you and i hope you're taking care of yourself for now.

you don't move when your window opens. you haven't moved for hours, you couldn't draw up enough energy to turn or eat, or breathe. the wall in front of you hasn't changed, it's been a blank slate of emptiness. just like the pit inside you.

'i know you're not sleeping.' it's teasing, your heart doesn't have it in you to perk up. you don't feel excited peter showed up, nothing could top the numbness that's burrowed its way into your chest and mind.

'you haven't texted me back all day, i was about to send a smoke signal.' your bones feel sharp, the idea of rolling over to face him stings, you think you'll shatter into a million pieces. you have nothing left to give, even talking seems exhausting.

'baby?' peter knows somethings wrong, he thinks he knows what's wrong. you had a good stretch, it had been months before the depression caught up and sent you bedrotting.

peter can't imagine how it feels for you, but for him, watching you go through this, kills him inside.

your mattress sinks, you close your eyes when peter reaches out for you, his hand on your skin is the most warmth you felt all day. it's peter; your rock, your safety net, your protector.

you think it's the first time you've talked all day. you had a permanent lump in your throat and you knew just by opening your mouth the tears would start.

but it's okay, because peter is here.

'i'm really sad today.' it's all it takes, your shoulders shake with your sobs, how could you feel everything and nothing all at once? peter's soft whispers have you curling into yourself. you don't deserve him, he doesn't deserve this.

'oh, honey.' it's full of love, his nose brushes your shoulder like a puppy asking to be pet. 'wanna give me a hug?' your voice wavers on your answer, it's raw and scratchy, begging to be hydrated, you don't think you've even had water today.

'yes, please.' your cheeks feel sticky but peter's holding you tightly, yet softly, it's like he's trying to hold you together. it's working. 'i'm sorry.' you feel bad. you should be more for him.

'don't be. i want to be here for you, and when you can only give twenty percent, i've got the other eighty. i love you. always and forever. no matter what.'

he needs to add the end, he needs to because he knows how it weighs down in your mind. how you've told him over and over it's unfair he has to put up with this and how he doesn't deserve what you bring to the table.

peter told you he's got a big fucking table and it's got more than enough room for your "mess." you don't say the silent part out loud anymore but he knows you still think it. peter would never admit it to you, but sometimes he really hates your brain and the way it thinks about yourself when your depression sets in.

it's selfish, you hate it about yourself but you need a reason to keep going.

'can you tell me how sad you would be if i died?' to anyone else it would sound morbid, to peter it means you're feeling better. peter slightly rocks you in his lap, he hums like he needs to think.

'you think you're depressed? just you wait, i'll make this look estatic.' a smile teases, he's determined to get you laughing. 'i mean it. i'd be on my knees, tears and snot all over my face, holding your hand at your funeral. i'd probably throw myself down the hole with you.'

it works, it's minuscule but you gave him a real smile and a tiny laugh. it's because you're picturing the teary-snotted face he'd be sporting and he's totally okay with that.

peter presses kisses over your hairline, he's speaking from the heart and you can feel it.

'because if you're not living, i wouldn't have a reason to either.'

#nerdy!peter drabbles

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major-wren · 8 months

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I love the "ARK siblings" concept and I love cute lighthearted fanart of them being siblings but I feel like a lot of people forget that they literally canonically share a soul and that her death is, in my opinion, I think supposed to represent a part of one's self dying and that they're supposed to be, symbolically, a lot more than siblings.

I always saw Shadow's story as a symbolic way to express the way your inner child and innocence is sacrificed in order to survive complex childhood trauma. Maria's color scheme and the way she's written is, I think, clear to all of us how she's meant to represent innocence and youth. I mean, she doesn't really function very well as a stand-alone character or realistic depiction of a child, shes always been more of an.. idea.

I'm not sure if it was purposeful, but the moon's "Maria" are craters that formed from the moon repeatedly taking the hits of asteroids at it's points of gravity. These points of gravity attract asteroids and draws then away from the Earth. The craters are mostly on the side of the moon we see, so the dark side of the moon, or "shadowed" side is better protected because of that. I feel like this is an extension of Shadow and Maria's symbolism. She took the bullet for him, protecting him, the same way Maria takes the comets, and the same way your brain will sacrifice your inner child (or freeze/rush your mental development) in order to survive intense childhood abuse. I know it all sounds extreme lmao but at the end of the day characters and storytelling are used to explore and express hard emotions and I don't think this randomly tragic character sprung out of nowhere for the Sonic games, which, before that point, always had very lighthearted positive characters (except for the echidna extinction in the game right before Shadow's). Having a character that was easy to approach, yet could represent scarier concepts as a child-friendly stand-in, felt like a very important tool to me growing up. I just hope that that writing can be appreciated in his character, with an understanding of how messy production can be and how a character can get pulled between many different people and ideas. I do think this symbolism was intentional to some degree, especially when it gets to the blatant soul-sharing and how characters insist that Shadow can't be a weapon because Maria's soul (his inner child and true morals despite the damage done to him) makes him "good hearted."

There's other things that uphold this symbolism of Maria dying as representing his inner child being killed, like the rushed/suspended mental development in the face of trauma being illustrated by the fact that Shadow was forced into a dormant cyro slumber right after Maria's death, symbolizing the way he had to basically skip childhood or hit pause on development until he could escape the people controlling him. Much like how victims will have to pause everything and go on autopilot with only a goal of survival until they can escape their situation; only after they feel safe can they begin growing as a person and find their identity. In the Japanese language, there are different types of pronouns people can refer to themselves with instead of just "I" or "myself." In the Japanese dub of SA2, Shadow's creator said in an interview that he had been very insistent on Shadow using the pronouns reserved for young boys, despite Shadow's menacing villain role in the game, because he felt it was important to show Shadow's purity and his lack of experience in life so far. That "live and learn" theme.

And then in his self titled game, Shadow is searching for a way to reconnect with his past and to find the truth about this Maria person he keeps seeing in flashbacks, but in the end he throws away her picture and accepts himself as he is now, forever changed and stained by his past, but more than just a product of his situation. He is "all of him," including the negative impact he never asked for, and including the parts of himself he lost, but also the parts of himself he chose to become. Your environment and childhood shapes you even if you didn't want it to, but that doesnt mean you cant have control in your identity and recover your inherent nature once you've escaped the negative influence (nature vs nurture theme). He will never be the person he used to be, or could have been, (represented by Maria as a pure and untouched youth), but he still has a say in what that grows into.

I just feel like a lot of Shadow's identity issues and inner conflict stem from this whole soul sharing situation with Maria and that his character ends up inevitably being misunderstood if you water them down to just siblings. Especially considering that it was never answered if Shadow actually even ever met Maria or if they're just memories planted by Gerald or caused by the shared soul. In Sonic Battle, it's also said in Gerald's diary that not only do Maria and Shadow share identical souls, but that Gerald literally modeled Shadow after Maria out of his love for her. I'm not sure to what degree or in what ways, but Shadow is supposed to share purposeful similarities with Maria, likely through the content of her character and her morals. That's what makes them so much deeper than just psuedo siblings, he's not only made for her, but designed after her too. It can't really be compared to, for example, Sonic and Tails.

I also think its what makes Shadow's character so substantial and meaningful. His self titled game's entire theme was purity, morals, what is good and bad. This question of purity and morality spreads into his appearances in other stories too- This question that, if you were badly hurt in your youth and shaped by evil- does that leave you impure? Stained? Destined to continue that cycle of harm and cruelty? I think these insecurities feel very real and relatable, and that it's even more realistic that despite these insecurities, that hurt and damage is actually what fuels him to protect others. Just as he said in Sonic Battle, "There's no need to repeat past tragedies! Nobody else ever needs to go through the things that I have!"

Statistically (despite media portrayal) abuse victims RARELY become abusers, because they understand the pain on a deeper level and can't bring themselves to force someone else into experiencing that same pain, knowing the permanent damage it causes. However, childhood abuse leaves people socially stunted and conditioned to harshness, which causes them to accidentally hurt others without meaning to. Or they end up hurting people out of desperation if they feel endangered (like Shadow's "means to an end" approach where he'll prioritize violence if it means reducing the end-impact). Also, they are more susceptible to being abused again after escaping the first abuser, because they are so susceptible to manipulation- Just like how whenever Shadow does switch sides, its usually because someone manipulated him into it or literally brainwashed him. I think Shadow conveys all of this so well, and that Maria's true role is an integral part of it all that can't be ignored or misunderstood, or else Shadow ends up reading as unnecessarily violent or overly obsessed with her when you interpret her as just a sister-figure that he knew for... who knows how few years.

I think this symbolism runs deep with his writing. Just like Maria's meant to be that inherent purity and inner child, I think the black arms DNA is that stain that abuse or trauma can leave on you, that causes you to act out or feel like you're always holding back and trying to keep control over some darker part of yourself that was left behind in the damage done. Especially since they literally have a mind link with Shadow. In the Sonic Universe comic, they succeed in brainwashing Shadow and turn him against his friends. These mind-links, soul-sharing, and brain-washing from both Gerald and the black arms... To disregard the fact that he's deeply connected to these people on a metaphysical, identity altering level is to water down his character and leave it feeling as though his motives are too weak to justify his harsh actions. I've seen people poke fun at his amnesia or insecurity in his identity, as though his confusion isn't justified, and I think it's because people don't realize he has these... literal fragments of other people inside of him, that that's pretty much what he's made of, kind of franken-steined together between a little girl's hopes and morals, an alien race's hivemind greed, a weapon-hungry government and a revenge maddened scientist's painful grief, and even the chaos emeralds which we all know are spiritually whacky and potentially connected to another alien race's memories and energies (the ancients from sonic frontiers). With all of that going on, plus some amnesia mixed in and his memories having been altered by Gerald- I mean.. you'd be searching for the "truth" of your identity too, who you really are. And of course, prone to frustration and aggression, or even a "wish-washy inconsistency." I think there's always a constant tug of war inside of him and that his whole development was a game of tug of war between Gerald, G.U.N and the black arms too. "Am I a cure, am I a death-bringer, am I earth's protector, am I it's destroyer," etc etc

Idk I just think a lot of problems people have with Shadow's writing stems from not realizing how deep things go and what they symbolize. Not to say that something like his boom characterization is of good quality or anything, but I think it's unfair to call him inconsistent when a confusion in his own identity and purpose/goals is kind of the point. And I think people not realizing Maria's deeper, physiological connection to him and influence might be part of the problem.

#major mumbles #shadow the hedgehog #ark siblings #maria robotnik #gerald robotnik #sonic the hedgehog #sth #shth #sonic adventure 2 #shadow the hedgehog headcanon #sonic headcanon #sonic analysis

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bunnakit · 4 months

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last twilight ep 7 thoughts, feelings, etc

ALRIGHT i ran my errands, caught up on pit babe and playboyy to relax, and now i'm doing my speedwatch. i took some notes while watching the first time and they're a fucking MESS but hopefully they help me remember everything i want to comment on because without fail i always forget something.

you'll all be glad to know this week's meta bullshit from me is far, far less romantic and wistful than last weeks. you've all been spared by my adhd brain not being able to piece together a single poetic thought.

i kind of knew from this moment the trajectory the episode would take. Day is clearly nervous but not defensive - this isn't out of the realm of something Mhok would do for him but with recent context it probably feels fairly intimate. i think this was a really good indicator of what we're in for.

there's a collection of sunflowers in Day's room, tucked away in the corner, not unlike Mhok tucking away his feelings for Day's comfort. the poor things are shrouded in shadow, away from the light. the pain is unending and forever.

Day's flashback to the kiss has me curious. his eyes are closed so he's not even thinking back to seeing what he can of Mhok up close. as he reminisces about this kiss is he simply remembering the sensation of Mhok's lips on his own? how his hands curled into Mhok's jacket? and i'm sure we've all seen the post but - was he thinking of the way Mhok tasted like cigarettes? this isn't to romanticize his disability, i'm just genuinely wondering what exactly he's drawing on here in this moment, because it's clearly something significant to him.

Porjai just keeps getting prettier every episode and it's making me insane. i just think i should be allowed to take care of her.

"I'm jealous of Day's ability to make you smile."

this makes me think Mhok's smiles have been few and far between, and maybe Porjai has been looking to bring out that smile for a long time. does she ever worry that maybe someday Mhok could end up like Rung? does she worry about finding him too?

oh i so very badly want the context for this, i want to know everything. but also, it's really not that surprising. not when we've seen the things Mhok has done for Day. Mhok lives his life in extremes; anger, kindness, protectiveness, his work, etc. everything Mhok does he puts his whole self into it and it's nice to see his love is no different, because why would it be?

i'm once again in awe of what P'Aof has done with Mhok and Porjai, though. they live together so easily and naturally. there's nothing strange or awkward about it, just two people surviving life together. it's such a breath of fresh air.

Day just cannot catch a break when it comes to August. this has to hurt so fucking badly, the pity has to feel amplified by 1000. not only was August trying to force himself to like Day back because he's blind, but also because he was thinking of leaving. Day is a stronger man than me because i would be frothing at the mouth pissed.

but once again, Mhok doesn't let Day stew in his fish tank. he encourages him to go out and resolve his feelings, even if that means screaming at August and letting out all his hurt and frustration. he's seen what happens when Day lets his hurt fester and he won't let it happen again, not while he's around.

"He's a lot stronger than I thought. It's me who's so weak that I let him down."

as much as August pisses me off, i do think this is him realizing his pity was misplaced, and he failed Day in that way, so he gets some redemption points here. (still think he's a stinky bastard man tho)

the immediate distance Mhok puts between himself and the group never fails to hurt my heart. i get it, he's there for a job, but their relationship has progressed past that - now even moreso, and i cant help but wonder if this is his attempt at keeping a distance, curbing his expectations, reminding himself that while his role is to be by Day's side it's only in a professional capacity.

i love that Gee acknowledges him with a little head nod, occasionally looks in Mhok's direction as if to include him, she's just - ugh - i love all the women in this show so fucking much. i just wish someone would invite Mhok over sometime, encourage him to join the conversation (like they did back at the party.)

sometimes Mhok really is the embodiment of a shadow - both of Day and of his former self (for good or bad.)

(he looks so fucking sexy leaning like that with his shirt tucked into his pants tho, whew.)

Gee also becomes one of my favorite people for asking Day to take the photo of all of them. she just gets it, she includes him, she doesn't act like he can't do things, she even insists he can, she's just !!! the women of all time in this show i swear!!! I LOVE WOMEN!!!!

also the "you don't drink coffee, girl spill the tea" from Gee is just so good. she knows a diversion tactic when she sees one.

i want this expression framed, she's so cute, HELP.

i wish i had the time and energy today to make gifs for this week but ugh. the journey Mhok's face went on here to end up at quiet resignation. because he did figure. someone like Day? with someone like him? because we know Mhok's opinion of himself isn't great, largely influenced by his incarceration and reintegration into society, i'm sure, along with his guilt. but there had been that little bud of hope, a little sunflower seed that had bloomed just a little too far, reached for the sun a little too much. it must feel like a weed in his chest.

the way Day says 'here' so softly, with so much vulnerability made me feel like screaming. he doesn't know what his feelings are for Mhok yet (you can't tell me he doesn't feel anything) but he knows he doesn't want to lose Mhok and the sudden idea of it is terrifying. Mhok is the only person that really understands him, one of the only people he's comfortable around anymore, and he can't lose that. he doesn't want to go back to the dirty fish tank.

i also think this was an indicator to Mhok that maybe Day doesn't know how he feels, and maybe he can get away with flirting in tiny, subtle ways because from here on his secret flirting game is in full effect and it's so fucking cute. he's careful not to completely push past Day boundaries, but to test them in gentle ways.

THE SHOES MY BELOVEDS. we all know what i feel about these shoes after last week and i'm so glad to see all of my stupid babbling confirmed here. i love that Mhok constantly mends things instead of throwing them away. the sentimentality of items means something to Mhok and we love him for that.

we also got a proper 'sweet dreams' this episode, finally!! thank you subbers!

so many shots of feet this ep tho and lemme tell you as someone that HATES feet, this was rough.

oh you are so smitten. Day realizing Mhok is warm, warm in his own way, warm in such a gentle and understated way. UGH. you would've thought he knew after everything they've been through but sometimes people need a reminder and maybe something to drive them to pay closer attention. our boy is BESOTTED. kicking his feet and giggling. i think this is the happiest we've ever seen him.

so here's where i'm probably going to wax poetic the most. Mhok is finally opening up to Day in such an incredible way. he brings Day to his home with no fear of pity or judgement. he brings him into this sanctuary created by him, his sister, and Porjai and he cooks for him and cares for him and in letting him in Day sees even more how impossibly warm Mhok is.

what's even greater is there isn't a single moment where Day is jealous or questions Porjai being there. Mhok has told him she's expecting and he's never weird about it, just kind and understanding and it's all so normalized, it's fucking beautiful. Day even takes the time to encourage Porjai, to share about his mom, and about the strength it takes to be a single mom. P'Aof i adore you.

Mhok has planted jasmine simply because he knows Day likes it, and maybe now he likes it too. and he brings Last Twilight home to practice reading (i'd always wondered how he managed to read without stumbling over himself lmao) and he's done it so much that now Porjai wants to name their child Mee, wants to create this connection to Day forever.

and once prompted, once Day knows enough to ask, Mhok opens up about Rung, talks about her more. Day comments on the warmth of the house, something started by Rung and cultivated by Mhok. it would be so easy for the house to feel cold and clinical, especially knowing what happened here, but Mhok has kept it a home - warm, inviting, comforting - all the things Mhok has been to Day.

the noises took me by fuckin' surprise tho, i genuinely looked around my house like who the fuck is making all that noise and then i was like OH THOSE ARE-- OKAY--

and I know people are like haha P'Aof has a scent kink but like. idk. maybe it's just me but scents are something i'm drawn to. i remember the way someone smelled more than i remember their face. i recently took a shirt out of my closet and immediately started crying. it smelled like face powder and perfume. it smelled like my grandma. the leather jacket pushed to the side smells like cigarettes and horses, like my dad always did.

scent is such an ingrained memory, something that is so hard for our brains to let go of. every time i get a familiar smell it knocks me on my ass, and i'm so glad to see some of this represented in these shows.

this absolutely warmed my heart. whatever is going on with Night and Day is clearly more on Day's side than anything else. Night clearly loves his brother and i'm just fucking DYING to know what is going on that is causing Day to drive a wedge between them. sure, Night hasn't been perfect, but there's love there and that counts for so much.

and what exactly are you doing here??? this is a charity run for blindness - does he know someone that is blind other than Day? did meeting Day inspire him to participate? has he spent time talking to Mhok about Day and maybe the difficulties of his blindness? i am filled with questions but i love this character so much, he's just so kind.

Day's hesitation to cross the finish line was also something i found so interesting. it felt long, possibly too drawn out, but Day needed to think, needed time to understand that if he crosses that finish line, if he accepts Mhok's request to be his boyfriend, their lives will never go back to how they were. things between them will change forever, whether the relationship is a success or otherwise. it's an incredibly mature thing of Day to do, even if it felt a little lengthy for us, the audience.

i strongly believe that in addition to Mhok Porjai is going to be a big driving force in Night and Day's reconciliation. i would love to see Porjai gain Night's side of the story, Mhok gain Day's side of the story, and the two of them working together to see how they can reunite these brothers.

also if i had a nickle for every time P'Aof paired Mark with a pregnant woman in his shows i'd have two nickles, which isn't a lot but it's interesting it has happened twice.

while i, like everyone else, hope the mock proposal is a parallel we get to see later i want to focus more on this moment.

i forget who said it, it's long gone to the depths of my dash by now, but someone commented that disabilities do not stop for love, and fuck is that so true. i love Mhok's concern, his immediate reaction to soothe, and the way he seems to feel Day's fear as his own. and poor Day, he can't even enjoy this moment of bliss with Mhok because of course, of course something like this had to happen. it's so fucking real in the way Last Twilight has been this entire time.

the constant excellent representation of disabled living has been incredible to see, i've seen so much of myself in this show (even though my disability is so very different) and it's been like a warm blanket put over very single comment: you're too young to be disabled, you aren't THAT disabled, you're being dramatic, etc.

from the bottom of my heart, thank you P'Aof and team.

tag loves: @benkaaoi @callipigio @infinitelyprecious (as always tell me if you want to be added {for LT only or all meta} or removed!)

#bunn meta #last twilight #last twilight the series #mhokday #morkday #userjamiec #im soooo fuckin sleepy after making this but i still have to work #someone come make me tea and gimme a little kith

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kelogsloops · 27 days

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putting this in the tumblr ask box bc idk where else to put it 🕺 does anyone even read these still

anyways i just woke up but i had a dream and you were a big part of it- i don’t want to say it was a nightmare or like a bad dream but like basically in the dream you announced that you would be quitting art and like retiring ig? it was for a few reasons but in that moment idk i just realized just how much you have had an influence on my life- you know that saying “you don’t know what you have until you lose it”? yeah…

honestly at first when i woke up i was so ready to call it a nightmare, like “oh my god?? you?? leaving?? forever?? noooo!” but as i’m sitting here awake now i realize eventually it’s probably gonna happen- maybe not in the way it was in my dream with you making a whole like announcement video and wiping your accs, but maybe quieter. i wonder if it’ll be that you stop making art, but i find that hard to imagine. i think it would happen slowly, less and less posts as the years go on. in my head even if you stop posting it, i’d think you’re still creating, making art for simply the sake of such. but then i think about how silly that thought is though, i don’t know you outside of your social media bubble. i don’t know your life and what happens there so to even assume something so quiet is pretentious of me.

like i said, at first i thought it was a nightmare, i can’t bear the thought of you leaving one day- especially for the reasons you gave in my dream it was like “i gave up, arts getting too much for me, and things are so competitive now no one wants my art anymore…” blah blah blah. it was all my own stress as an artist manifesting onto you i think- but anyways i hope that should the day ever come where you do end up leaving your socials and whatnot, i can only hope that it’s out of your own accord and you do so because you want to, not out of pressure or anything like that. like i’m not saying i want you to quit or anything, but what i’m saying is if it happens i just hope it’s something that you chose on your own. i just don’t think i could ever stand that happening though without letting you know how much of an impact you’ve had on my life.

i found your art when at a very developmental part of my life, so your work wether consciously or not i think has just become like a part of my brain wether conscious or not haha. whenever i go to draw even if i don’t explicitly go to look to your work for inspiration, it’s still there i can see it. it’s like just unconsciously ingrained at this point. but more than that though the whole idea of like “brb chasing dreams” and whatever and the whole idea that i feel you impart every time you share pieces of your journey as an artist to just keep going, i kind of stole that mantra for myself and started to tell myself that as well. even at my lowests, i’m still trying to follow that dream, even lost and i don’t know what direction i’m going in there’ll always be that dream as an anchor almost.

thank you for all that you’ve shared and thank you for being the biggest inspiration in my life. i know that’s quite dramatic to say, but i mean it in full honesty. whatever the future holds for you, i hope it’s kind. i hope you live a long life chasing all your dreams where at the end of the day, you’re happy. thank you.

waking up to find a message like this in my inbox has me feeling t e a r y. it's reading stories like these and hearing how my work has impacted people that makes this all feel so surreal sometimes. the fact that people would even care if i stopped making art one day or just disappeared is crazy... i'm very fortunate!

i've resigned myself to the fact that sure, one day (but hopefully never) i won't be able to pursue a professional career as an artist anymore, but if there's one thing that i can promise, it's that there is no reality in where i stop making art!

i don't know if i show it enough, but to each and every one of you who have been part of my journey so far, thank you from the bottom of my heart. it's messages like these that pinch me and remind me how it's all so worth it

forever #brbchasingdreams

#ask me #ask me anything #ask

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lurrkingly · 5 months

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Do you have any tips for a young artist?

okay GOOD QUESTION so I'm gonna just start typing about some things I wish I had known as a young artist and keep adding to the draft of this answer as I think of things. LOL.

Advice I'm definitely qualified to give young artists:

1) If you are primarily an artist that draws humans or humanoid characters, I need you to internalize this very important fact: There is NO race, shape, type of body, etc. that you are 'unable' to draw. Y'all it is 2023 and Twitter is a cesspool of idiots running around INSISTING that they simply "can't draw black people", "can't color dark skin", or that "black people don't fit into my style."

But you, young artist anon, YOU know better now! Go tell all your friends! Spread the good news! There is no fundamental inability to include diversity in the subjects of your art--there is only unwillingness to learn.

Because that's the thing--a lot of people who say these kinds of silly things will also say that the don't want to 'get it wrong' (I typed and deleted a whole other tangent here. lol). The important thing about approaching diversity in your art is that you are earnestly trying, respectful, and open to being corrected. Hard to go wrong that way! There are tutorials abound--research is your friend!

2) Related: encourage yourself to explore and celebrate variety as you cultivate your unique style. and DON'T SKIMP ON THE FUNDAMENTALS! DO NOT!

I'm going to talk a little bit about what it was like for me when I started "really" drawing at like. 9 or 10. (cont'd.)

I got really into drawing because some friends of mine liked to draw anime in their free time in class. I centered my early drawing life around emulating a style that was strictly anime. Drawing realism or semi-realism seemed so ugly to me! I had no interest in it.

In addition, I came away with a message that harmed my self-esteem greatly, even if I didn't know it at the time: black people don't look good in an anime style. You just can't do it!

So I never tried to. I had a narrow focus, and I was reluctant to explore outside of it. If I'm being honest with myself, I hamstrung myself pretty hard by not being open to exploring a variety of styles. I also thought that the fundamentals of art (principles of lighting, color, shape, and the human figure, etc.) were a waste of time for me to study up on. I knew what I wanted my art to look like--pretty anime pictures! Lol.

All of the above is why I don't think I actually started to get "good" at art until September of 2019, roughly a trillion years after I started to draw. I know that because of those art summary memes, lol. Here, for reference:

tumblr compressed the image to shit, so you'll have to take my word for it, but yeah! lol.

Anyways, the point is this:

You will go through many stylistic phases in your life as an artist. This is normal, and honestly, I'd celebrate it! Be open to any number of unlikely stylistic influences. They may take your artistic sensibilities in a direction you'd never expect. All in service of developing your unique artistic voice.

If you want to be good at what you do, you will need to create a strong base of knowledge for yourself. This is what intentional study of the fundamentals does. Get that shit in your brain while you're young!!! You will be planting the seedling of your artistic prowess in much nicer soil, and future you will thank you for it.

3) Developing artistic skill is NOT A RACE! You will hear this advice a lot, but I'd like to talk about a specific nuance that I think is important.

There are a number of reasons why it would make sense for you to think that it is, in fact, a race. For instance, there are roughly a kajillion other artists in your age range. A lot of them are on social media, cultivating a following. A lot of them will be "better" than you.

Do not get attached to the idea of being a brilliant young artist. You will not be young forever. If your idea of skill is entwined with your identity as a young person, what happens as you get older? I'll tell you: You start to see more and more people who are way more talented than you, and at least five years younger, and it can really really hurt you because you have not been set up for success with the right mindset. Your pride and joy was not being a creator--it was being a young creator.

Being an artist, especially in the age of social media (jesus, i sound so old) is an emotional investment as well as a practical, skill-based one. If you do not take care of yourself emotionally, if you do not approach creating art and posting it online with the right mindset, you will destroy yourself. Worst case, you end up bitter and hating art altogether.

If you are able to remain reasonably detached from social media response in general--great! That bodes well for you. But that's a skill, like anything else, so it's much more likely that the way your art is received on social media will affect you.

If you are very young, say, in your teens, and your art is exemplary, you will probably receive a lot of comments about this! They might be astonished that you, at so young an age, are so advanced in your skill. It is GREAT to be proud of yourself for accomplishing so much at a young age, don't get me wrong. Feels nice! But just like you will be advised not to let mean comments go to your head, you need to be thoughtful about how you receive comments that praise you for your age specifically. You need to be firm in the understanding that your age is not what makes your art exceptional. Your art is exceptional because YOU made it and because YOU honed your skills!

Beyond that, stuff that you probably already know: comparison to your artistic peers can be very encouraging and motivating; conversely, it can also be stressful and lead to unfortunate emotional spirals. You know yourself best--engage with or steer clear of comparison according to your comfort. You're not on your friend's artistic journey. You're on your own one. This is a very cursory thought on the topic of comparison, but I don't think I could offer you anything you don't already know about it, y'know?

4) This one... I'm gonna try to get across a very specific point. My point is this: Know what success looks like to you, and be honest with yourself.

The definition of 'success' may evolve for you as you develop, but I don't think it's ever too early to have a frank conversation with yourself about what it means for you, specifically, to be a successful artist.

Do you want to develop the skill to draw or create a specific idea in particular? Do you want a kajillion followers on instagram? Do you want to build a portfolio that will get you into a specific creative industry? Do you want to cultivate a steady stream of commissioners? Do you just want to relax and get ideas out of your head? And any other infinite goals.

Obviously I'm saying this without placing a value judgement on anyone's definition of artistic success. This is a highly personal sort of thing.

The reason I encourage this is because it can provide additional direction to a young artist, for whom the world is an oyster. Different enduring goals will require slightly different approaches to art as a field. This goal may inform what you draw, what medium you use, your higher education & career plans, where you choose to post your art (if at all), how much effort you must invest in building a brand for yourself, the role of social media in your life as an artist, the kinds of artists you devote energy to being peers with, etc. Hope that makes sense!

Anyways, I hope this advice is helpful. I'm always happy to answer other questions related to this sort of thing. Go forth, young artiste--I believe in you!

#posting without proofreading be nice to me #ask #anon #art advice #artists on tumblr #text

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swampstew · 6 months

Text

Eustass Kid, G-46 ~ Con Non-Con

Summary: modern monster au, Eustass Kid is a vampire and you’re his favorite familiar. Need I say more?

Warnings: Spicy! Dom/Master Vampire Kid, Sub/Familiar Reader - long term relationship cause I'm in my feelings rn, blood drinking/maybe fetish, creampie, overstimulation, master/familiar play but make it heartwarming, marking/ownership Word Count: 942

The day you met him was the happiest day of your life. So wild and attractive, you were certain you were under his spell the moment his golden eyes burned right through yours. It was like he had a gravitational pull on you. Soon you were face to face and he gave you a charming smile with sharp teeth.

“Hey. Wanna grab a drink?”

That was how it started. Oh you wished you could relive that moment so many times, to get the rush of adrenaline back again. How high you were on his personality and devilish looks alone, you couldn’t say no to him even if you wanted too, your pussy controlled your brain and actions from your first interaction. One date became three, then that night he fucked you stupid.

You were addicted to him then.

The addiction was mutual – he wanted you nearby all the time, so possessive, so needy and clingy, especially when he had limited time and exposure due to his nature. Wanted to both show you off and keep you shut from the world so he could consume you selfishly.

One day he asked you, “Will you be mine? Forever?”

“I’ve been yours since Day 1.”

His toothy grin was so beautiful it made your heart burst. Kid bit his lip, drawing some blood and smearing it over his red tinted lips, making them darker in color. He used his stained thumb to spell out his name on your naked chest before smashing his iron coated lips to yours, and you eagerly swallowed him whole. Damn nearly every day.

Kid purchased private land in a dense wooded area, built a magnificent house and had you living with him since that day. While he slept you did as you pleased, so long as you were home when he was awake, and you damn better be there to greet him. He waited all night to kiss his beloved.

You’ve never missed a kiss and you swear you never will. Today you wanted to surprise him. You leapt into his coffin as the lid swung open, and he let out a pleased growl as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.”

“I dreamt about you. Missed you. What did you do today?” he gently grasped your wrist and brought it to his face, tracing his fangs against the blue flush of your veins, stopping shortly when he saw the fresh ink in your arm.

“Is that?”

It was. A dainty red tulip in your inner forearm, with a slender, mechanical hand tenderly holding the flower stem.

“Me?”

“Don’t ask questions you know the answer to,” you tease, kissing up and down his neck. “Of course it is.”

“I didn’t think you’d do it.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m yours and you’re mine.”

He chuckled, “Have you always been so possessive?”

“Pot calling the Kettle bl—”

Kid didn’t let you finish, grabbed your waist and flipping you over so your back was against the maroon fur lining. Grinding his bulge into your stomach he growled, “Wrap it up, don’t want to infect it when I mark you some more with my cum.”

You were screaming as the coffin shook, Kid’s animalistic growls echoed in the gothic chamber and he pounded into your aching pussy, so eager to clench on him and pull him in deeply. His encouraging grunting as his hips smacked against your damp flesh made you fall apart – feeling like a sleeve at his mercy. The grace he provided by rubbing a calloused finger against your clit as he rubbed keen circles into it.

“Who do you belong to?”

“YOU KID! ONLY YOU!”

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes! Yes! Please, pleaasssee, I love you!!!”

Letting out a satisfied moan, he bit his lip sharply with his fang and smashed his mouth against yours. You lapped up the blood eagerly and it was like swallowing a flake of spice, the way it warmed your mouth and throat, tingling – so intense it almost felt like it was burning, maybe it was burning, it was so hot as it ran down your through and warmed your body from the inside out.

“FUUUUUCCCKK!!” You came hard around his cock, letting out a muffled moan that became a screech as you rode your orgasm while he fucked you through it. The overwhelming sensation of his heavy cock overstimulated your every nerve and still he didn’t let up.

Jerking back on feet to reposition himself on to his knees, he lifted your body and held on to your hips as he fucked into you. Your wails growing higher and tears leaded from your eyes as you felt the edge of another orgasm building inside you from his perfect cock.

“Say it!” he hoarsely growled in your ear.

“I’m yours forever, Master.”

Kid let out a strangled cry as his hips stuttered but did not cease his thrusting. He slammed into you a few more times before you both came together. Always in perfect union – so perfect for each other, you even had your orgasms nailed down to an exact science for maximum pleasure. Everything you have with Eustass Kid, just absolutely perfect.

With a content sigh, Kid fell back to sit down inside the coffin, still partly holding you, so he could watch his seed drip from you as he kept you plugged.

“If all it took for you to call me Master was marrying ya’, I woulda taken you to Vegas that same night.”

“Crazy thing is, I would have let you,” you grin at him. “Shiiiiittt, you always know what to say to get me hard as a rock.”