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hopelesslygaysstuff · 10 months

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Hi 🥰 idk if u remember me but im rainb0wdrafts from ao3! Saw on your bio that ure taking request soooo uhmm can I request a fluffy / smutty wanda x fem reader fic based on a song Wanna Be Missed by Hayley Kiyoko? 🥺 or if ure not feeling that particular song, any song that would inspire u from her Expectations album.

P. S.

still cant wait for the ending of Sparkling Scarlett. I’m having mixed emotions about it rn JSKSKSLLSLS

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: you try to get your mind off of Wanda in a crowded nightclub, and she finds you there and eases your cravings for her.

content warnings: smut, fingering, cunnilingus

word count: 4.3k

masterlist

A/N: omg hiiii!! i totally hadn't listened to that song before, so i listened to it on repeat while i figured out the vibes and plot line lol. i was basically feeling nightclub vibes with wanda and fem!reader going feral for each other. i hope you like it ◡̈

you literally cured my writers block so thank u 🙏, i really don't want Sparkling Scarlet to end either😭

photo cred: me, i literally made the photo in photoshop lol. anyways.

Craving You

The nightclub reverberated with an electric energy that filled every inch of the air. A symphony of pulsing lights painted the space in vibrant hues, dancing in synchrony with a mesmerizing blend of bass-heavy rhythms. It resonated in the bones of those who stood on the crowded dance floor.

You danced along, your body swaying to the pounding tempo as your feet started to tingle, the vibrations palpable in the stifling air. The atmosphere was a sensory overload, a place where time blurred, and your inhibitions dissolved as your friends brought you yet another shot.

Shooting down the clear liquid, you grimaced at the taste, attempting not to cough it back up as your friend patted you on the back. Looking up, you saw Kate’s already flushed face as she lazily scanned the room.

“Just go and find her already,” You said, feeling your senses starting to dull as the vodka left a pleasant burn in your chest. “I promised you I’d be here as a wingwoman tonight!”

Kate looked over at you, her face giddy with the anticipation of finally talking to her long-time crush, Yelena. You laughed, grabbing the slightly crumpled water bottle from her grasp and uncapping it. Forcing the bottle against her lips, you watch her gulp down the water.

Hastily pulling the bottle away, you take a few sips before screwing the cap back on. “Don’t gulp it all down Kate, you’ll get sick that way.” You chastised, only half joking. You really didn’t want to spend another night holding Kate’s hair as she spewed her guts into a nightclub toilet.

Gently shoving her away, you gave Kate a light pep talk. It mostly consisted of complimenting her outfit, as she’d stressed about it all day. You had helped her pick the dress, a stunning knee length fabric that shimmered with each passing ray of multi-colored light. Kate spun in a small circle as you showered her with compliments, before finally turning away and laughing, her eyes scanning the room for Yelena.

“But wait!” Kate exclaimed, swaying slightly as she gripped your upper arm tightly. She struggled to focus on your face, finally making eye contact. “You haven't had enough alcohol to get your mind properly off of her yet.”

You sighed, letting out a breath into the already warm air. The atmosphere dimmed slightly, the stale air swirling around you as you remembered the true reason you’d let Kate drag you along. In all honesty, you’d never been much of a party girl. You always preferred a night in, sipping tea as you watched a sitcom with your girlfriend.

And there it was, the one thing you’d been trying not to think about.

Shooting Kate a look, you shook your head. “I don’t think alcohol is going to help much.” She gave you an apologetic look, and you gave her a slightly firmer push towards the dance floor. She turned slowly, and upon seeing a flash of dirty blonde hair, quickly left your side in pursuit.

Turning back towards the bar, you squinted against the flashing lights, already feeling a headache coming on as the vibrant mix of reds and blues swirled against the walls. Pushing through a tangle of sweaty, dancing bodies, you snagged a seat towards the end of the bar. You ordered a shirley temple (you really did miss Wanda), and sat back against the wall. Choosing to give your eyes a rest from the mass of bodies dancing in an uncoordinated pattern, you let your eyes unfocus as you stared into the dark red of your drink.

Wanda had unfortunately been called away, her position as head of her company demanding more hours as the summer season hit. She’d left immediately after a late night phone call, grabbing her pre-packed bag and sweeping out of your shared home. She’d promised that it wouldn’t be too long of a trip, and that she’d call you every day. That was three weeks ago.

She did call you every day, but spoken words weren’t enough for you. You wanted to be held by her, falling asleep in her arms as she laughed along quietly to the sitcoms playing in the background. You wanted to kiss her again, like it was the last time you’d ever embrace her lips with yours, frenzied and passionate. The sound of her voice through a phone, knowing she was miles away, couldn’t compare to the way she would hold you close with your breaths intermingling as you pulled each other impossibly closer.

Fuck, you missed her with every fibre of your being.

Shaking off your suddenly melancholic thoughts, you scanned the room for Kate. The mess of brown curls was lost in the sea of moving bodies, and you focused on the first flash of blonde you saw. Upon seeing Yelena, you smiled at the sight of Kate standing mere inches away from her. Your mission was accomplished, and all you had to do was not think about Wanda.

How utterly disappointing it was, when your thoughts wandered back to her. Back to her soft red curls, slightly frizzy as they splayed across her bare back. You always swore you woke up next to an angel everyday, and Wanda would laugh as she showered you with kisses. Her laugh, flowing from her lips with a melodic grace as her lips danced softly across your skin. Back to her freckles, a constellation neatly scattered across her features that you had attempted to count many times. Back to her waist and hips, the slow curve that you dragged your fingertips over, until you finally reached her…

A hand against your waist startled you out of your thoughts, and you flushed slightly as you turned in your seat. Setting your drink down on the counter top, not wanting to enter into the range past tipsy, you looked up.

A sea of red curls filled your vision, and your eyes slowly widened as you drank in the sight of Wanda standing before you. She had a hand in her pocket, the other stroking your hip in slow circles as your brain attempted to process. Her vibrant green eyes crinkled at the edges as she watched the multiple emotions you were feeling flit across your face. Her skin was lit with the ever-changing hues of the nightclub, and you started to feel as though you were in a cinematic movie scene.

“Not a movie sweetheart.” Wanda said, her velvety voice wrapping around your head and sinking you further into a trance. You could hear the undercurrent teasing, but elected to ignore it in favor of staring at her. Staring at her ridiculously attractive cheekbones, at her sharp jaw and shining eyes as she drank in the sight of you.

Jolting out of your seat, finally processing the fact that she wasn’t a figure of your imagination, you wrapped your arms tightly around her shoulders as you sunk into a well-known embrace. Your bodies molded together, and you felt her arms tighten securely around your waist. You couldn’t make yourself pull away, letting the hum of the nightclub fade into insignificance as you attempted to convey the depth of your emotions through your embrace. Wanda nestled further into your arms, your breaths synchronizing as you held each other.

Breathing deeply, you buried your nose into her hair as the familiar scent of vanilla filled your senses. For some reason, that gave you enough strength to pull away, but only far enough so you could see Wanda’s face.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was slightly breathy as you eagerly drank in the sight of her. She gazed down at you, her eyes fitting to your parted lips as you exhaled shakily. She smiled, leaning in closer until her lips touched the shell of your ear. You shuddered.

“My trip ended a bit later than expected,” Wanda started, her tongue flicking out against your ear. You felt her smirk against you as a shiver ran down your spine. “And I didn’t want to wait until you got home to finally see you, so I came to you.”

A large smile made its way onto your face. Your girlfriend, who had just flown miles back home and who was probably jetlagged as hell, had made the decision to walk into a grungy nightclub in search of you. At the mere thought of how much effort she’d put into seeing you, you crashed your lips against hers.

Her lips met yours with an equal amount of ferocity, and you felt her dragging you away from the bar as she sucked your bottom lip between her teeth. You followed happily, all of your thoughts invested solely on the woman you were clinging to. She pulled you through a doorway, the security team waving her through as they recognized her well known status.

You could barely think, a certain fuzziness overtaking your mind as it focused solely on Wanda. You focused on your hands against her shoulders, the way your fingertips brushed against the overheated skin of her neck and tangled in the loose curls that fell around her shoulders. After a desperate tug of her hair, Wanda pulled away briefly to push open a door, before shutting it and pushing you harshly against the solid wood.

“Hi sweetheart,” Wanda whispered, her lips grazing yours as she caught her breath. Her cheeks held an adorable flush, and her eyes shined as they roamed over your heaving chest and shaky legs. Her hands pressed your hips firmly against the door, and you squirmed slightly as you attempted to pull her closer.

“I missed you.”

The words flowed from you desperately, and Wanda smiled at the whimper in your voice. She always loved you like this, when you were soft, pliant and so eager to please. She allowed herself to be pulled closer, until the front of her body was flush with yours. You rolled your hips against her, letting out a choked noise from the back of your throat as you relieved some of the aching pressure that had built between your legs.

Letting her teeth graze your jaw slightly, Wanda focused on marking the soft skin of your neck as you panted beneath her. Her hands stilled your rolling hips, and you whined as she pulled back to look at your desperate form.

“What exactly did you miss?” She asked, raising a single eyebrow as you struggled to get your brain to work.

Catching a glimpse of the soft bed behind you, and realizing that Wanda had pushed you into one of the private backrooms of the nightclub, you pushed gently against her shoulders. Allowing you to walk her backwards, Wanda let out a surprised puff of air when the backs of her knees met the mattress.

Moving to straddle her, you tangled your fingers with her smooth curls once more as you tilted her head back. With your lips against her temple, you breathed in the familiar heady scent that was so wholly Wanda as you murmured, “I’ll show you.”

Wanda’s hands tightened around your waist, keeping you on her lap as you ran your hands over cheeks and jaw, fingers ghosting over her skin as you started speaking. “I missed your annoyingly perfect eyebrows,” She let out a surprised giggle, raising them playfully as you laughed. Bringing a single finger down to her lips, you placed it against her bottom lip. “I missed your lips, so soft and kissable, and the words that drip from them wherever you speak.”

Tilting your head down, you placed a gentle kiss against her lips, pulling back when she attempted to deepen it. Wanda furrowed her brows as you pulled away, but you smiled softly and placed your finger against her lips once more as she tried to speak. “Hush love, I’m not done.”

Sitting back, Wanda watched your face as your eyes followed the path your other hand traced down her neck. As your fingers ghosted over the column of her throat and danced along her collarbone, she gently sucked your finger into her mouth. Your eyes flew back to hers in surprise, but she simply smiled around your finger, her tongue swirling around the heavy pad as you watched with parted lips.

You groaned, finding it hard to concentrate as you watched Wanda suck on your finger like it was the best thing she’d had in her mouth for a while. You placed another finger against her lips, and watched in an almost trancelike state as she sucked that one in as well. Her eyes closed slightly as she sucked, and she let out a low moan as your other hand tightened against her shoulder.

The sound startled you out of your daze, and spurred you on. Reaching down, you removed your fingers from her mouth as you swiftly pulled her expensive blouse over her head. Throwing the article somewhere behind you, you brought your fingers back to her parted lips and sighed as you felt the wet heat of her mouth encircle them once more.

“I missed your skin,” You said breathily, running a hand over her toned arms as they pulled you further onto her lap. You gasped as your core met her pelvis, and tried not to grind your hips down against hers. Unclasping her bra, she helped you take it off as you ran your fingers over her perspiring skin. Leaning down, you let your tongue drag against her, collecting the slightly salty taste as you traced a path from the tops of her breasts all the way to her ear.

“I missed the way you feel against me,” You whispered, and she reached up to pull your fingers out of her mouth. In one smooth motion, she pulled your shirt off and unclasped your bra, both items landing somewhere with a soft thump as she maneuvered the two of you towards the center of the bed.

You giggled slightly, feeling her hot breath against your overheated skin as she drank in the sight of you. She leaned closer, her lips parted as her eyes focused on the smooth skin of your neck, but you placed your hands firmly against her shoulders. Pushing back, you ignored the frustrated look she sent you, shushing her as you guided her to lay against the sheets.

Your hips still straddled hers, and after sitting back up, you rolled them slightly as you gazed down on Wanda’s form. She lay beneath you, her chest heaving as her eyes roamed your nude chest, her hair splayed out across the dark sheets.

“I missed your tits.” You said cheekily, reaching out your hands as your fingers pinched her nipples gently. Instead of reprimanding you like she normally would, Wanda let out a soft moan as she squirmed slightly, her hands tightening on your thighs. You felt your breath catch, the heat in your belly flaring at the sight.

Leaning down, you captured her lips in a searing kiss, letting unrestrained moans into her mouth as she kissed you back with equal ferocity. Panting, you parted from her as you trailed your lips down her neck until you reached the soft skin of her breast. Sucking gently, you placed a few hickeys against her skin, sighing when her hand reached up to tug at your hair.

Wanda’s hand clenched tightly, bringing tears to your eyes when you finally let your mouth encircle her tight nipple. Letting out a pained noise, you breathed deeply as she glanced down apologetically, her hand relaxing slightly. Flicking your tongue, you pulled more moans from her as you played with her chest. You could feel your bodies sliding against each other as the heat from your desperation built.

Deciding to give the poor woman some relief, you detached your lips from her chest, admiring her puffy nipples as she groaned. Wanda’s hands became more desperate as you descended her body, tugging your head closer to her overheated skin as your lips grazed the top of her pants. She let out a desperate whine, and your eyebrows shot up at the sound.

“I missed your hips.” You traced your fingers over the faint stretch marks you found there as you pulled her pants down in a quick motion. Your fingers mapped out a path along her skin as you traced the mole near her belly button, and the soft raised scar on her hip from when she’d fallen out of a tree when she was five. Moving further down, you spread her legs as you knelt between them, letting your lips trace a path from her ankle up to the apex of her thighs. You sighed softly as the scent of her arousal reached your nose, and you nuzzled your face into the soft skin of her inner thighs as her legs attempted to close around your head.

You shook your head out of the clouds, blinking as Wanda hips frantically raised against your palms. You looked up, watching her heaving chest and admiring her strong jaw as she threw her head back against the mattress. One hand was clenching the dark sheets under her, and your eyes widened at the sight of her white knuckles. The other hand gripped your wrist tightly, her fingers scrabbling for purchase against your sweaty skin as her legs tightened around you.

Placing your hands firmly against her thighs, you spread her legs as she bucked her hips. Letting her hand tangle with your hair, you chuckled as she attempted to press your face against her dripping center. You admired the wet spot forming against her underwear, blowing a stream of cool air against her core as she writhed beneath you.

“Please.”

You let out a moan of your own at her plea, before quickly stripping her of her underwear and leaving her completely bare against the sheets. You barely had a moment to admire her pale form against the dark fabric before her hand was tugging your head closer to her once more.

Placing a gentle kiss against her protruding clit, you smirked as her hips jerked. “I missed your scent,” You murmured, unsure if she could actually hear you over her own desperate moans. “I miss the way you taste against my tongue, and the way you roll your hips when I finally lean in for a taste.”

Wanda’s moans turned into desperate pleas, her hips now uncontrollably rutting against the mattress as she searched for any sort of release. Taking mercy on her, you finally leaned down and swiped your tongue against her core. Moaning at the taste, you circled your lips around her clit as she babbled incoherently while thrusting her hips against your face.

The grip of her hands in your hair caused tears to spring into your eyes once more, but you ignored it. Sucking harder, you urged her hips to buck faster against your face as her moans became more breathy. You felt her jerk unsteadily against you, her hips losing their rhythm as she neared her climax, incoherent words streaming from her lips.

Sucking her clit in between your teeth, you bit down gently while swirling your tongue around it, and Wanda lost what little control she had left. Her legs tensed around your head, squeezing tightly as her body shook. Her clit pulsed on your tongue, and you smirked as a wave of wetness hit your chin. Her head was thrown back, her lips parted as she let out a throaty moan. Her fingers locked in your hair, her hand firmly pressing you against her spasming core as she rode out the last few waves of her orgasm.

You licked your lips clean after finally coming up for air, her legs relaxing just enough for you to pull away slightly. As soon as you caught your breath, you dived right back in and savored the rich taste of her against your tongue. As you slipped your tongue inside her, you decided that you would do whatever it took to always have Wanda within arms reach. You simply couldn’t fathom being separated from her for an extended period of time again, and you quickly lost yourself in the drug that was Wanda Maximoff.

A trembling breath brought your attention back to the woman still sprawled on the sheets. Her legs trembled around your head as you slipped your tongue in and out of her still-leaking center. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally locked those viridescent green eyes on yours. As soon as you made eye contact, you smiled against her core as you brought your fingers up to circle her clit slowly.

Pulling away, you licked the taste of Wanda from your lips as you slipped two fingers into her without warning. You kept your eyes locked with hers as you slowly started pumping your fingers, and Wanda’s eyes lidded as she attempted to keep her gaze on you.

Smirking devilishly, you licked a slow circle around her swollen clit before placing a kiss directly on top of it. Resting your cheek against her inner thigh, you kept your gaze on her as the sounds of your fingers roughly slamming into her filled the room. Her slick juices spilled onto the sheets as your fingernails dug into her hip in an attempt to keep her hips in place.

“I crave you, Wanda.” Your sultry voice tipped her further towards the edge, and Wanda threw her head back against the mattress as she let out a stream of curse words.

You curled your fingers as you stroked that very sensitive spot inside her, pressing firmly into the spongy walls as you sucked her clit between your lips. Wanda’s back arched, and she practically lifted herself off the bed as she reached her climax once again. This time, you hummed against her as she rode out the aftershocks, and her third orgasm snuck up on her and ripped through her body like a wildfire.

Throughout it all, you were relentless. Your fingers kept up their bruising pace as your lips chased her clit. You were starting to get light headed as Wanda’s legs squeezed your head, the hand in your hair not allowing you to escape her grasp. Wanda’s hips jerked against you, and she let out a few whimpers as the hand in your hair started pushing against your head.

“Too much sweetheart, too much.” Wanda choked out, panting in relief when you finally pulled away. She let herself relax fully against the mattress, rolling away from the center of the bed when the damp sheets grew uncomfortable beneath her. You emerged from the small in-suite bathroom with a damp washcloth. Hushing her, you gently brought the warm washcloth to her slick skin as you cleaned her up.

You couldn’t resist one final taste, and after swiping your tongue to collect the juices still flowing from her slit, you finished cleaning your girlfriend and collapsed on the bed beside her.

“Well.” Wanda said, and you laughed at her inability to speak as she rolled into your side and buried her face against your bare shoulder.

Pressing a kiss on the top of her head, you breathed in her familiar vanilla scent as she pulled you closer. You wrapped your arms around her as she draped her legs over yours in an attempt to mold her body against you. You let a hand start running through her hair, detangling it slightly as she fully relaxed into you.

“I missed your laugh.” You said, and Wanda hummed against your shoulder. You began speaking again, your words filling the non-existent space between the two of you. “I missed the crinkle of your eyes whenever you smile at me, and I missed cuddling with you and watching sitcoms. I missed the breakfasts that you cook, and I missed putting away the dishes with you afterwards.”

You laughed then, not believing the words coming out of your mouth. “I mean, who misses doing the dishes?” You snorted, burying your face back into Wanda’s hair. “Only a fool in love would miss doing the most mundane task.”

Wanda tilted her face until she was looking at you, her green eyes shining up at you. “You love me?” Her voice was colored in surprise, and her face turned hopeful.

Blinking, you realize the words that had just slipped out. “I mean… yeah.” You began, running your fingers through her hair nervously as you met her wide green eyes. “I hope that’s alright, I don’t want you to feel like you have to say it back right now or anything, but yeah.” You trailed off, feeling the blush rise to your cheeks at your accidental admission.

One of Wanda’s hands came up to rest against your cheek, and she tilted your flushed face back towards her. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled brightly up at you. “I love you too sweetheart.”

Your heart started pounding, and a wide smile broke out on your face as you excitedly started peppering Wanda’s face with kisses. “I love you too!” You exclaimed as she laughed, her hands wrapping around the back of your neck as she pulled you in for a proper, searing kiss.

Pulling away after a few long seconds, you rested your forehead against hers as an uncontrollable grin overtook your lips. Time stood still as you both basked in the newfound confessions you’d made. Wanda’s fingers grazed your jaw, her touch gentle and grounding as your mind raced with excitement.

In that moment, as your foreheads remained gently pressed together, you knew that this was the beginning of an exhilarating chapter of your life. One that Wanda would be by your side in, her hand pressed in yours as you faced the world and conquered any obstacles that may come your way. As you lingered in each other's gentle embrace, the world outside faded into insignificance, and you knew that you had finally found true love.

#mommy wanda #wanda fanfic #wanda x reader #mcu #marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda marvel #wanda #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x you #bottom wanda maximoff #fanfiction #writing #lesbian

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cur-sedd · 4 months

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𝘌𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

here is a late christmas present. uhm ngl i was half alive writing this so if it doesnt make sense im sorry ㅠㅠ uhmm! yeah i tried smth new with the whole getting eaten out and fingering shit saurr bare with me 😭 idk if i wanna do vampire!txt or some soobie smut next rahh. i'll figure it out. MDNI!! NSFW content below ╰┈➤ hard dom (?) hyuka x fem!reader, hair tugging, getting eaten out-ovbi, fingering (bc i have an obsession), hints at over stimulation, begging, edging, not proof read, i think thats it, lmk if i missed anything

You gripped Hyuka’s hair as he made laps on your cunt. His perfect nose, stimulating your clit in ways you couldn't do yourself. You legs shook as you felt another orgasm make its way. You whine softly, pulling his hair more. Once you did so, Hyuka pulled his head back. “Baby, i told you to stop pulling my hair.” His voice echoed through the heated room as you huffed slightly. Great. Its been the third time Kai has done this to you. Its not your fault you cant keep your hands to yourself. You took your legs off of your boyfriend’s shoulders with a small click of your tongue. Kai continued to hold your legs up, admiring the mess he has made out of you.

You let out a sigh opening you mouth to counter back only for strings of curses to come right out. Hyuka harshly pumped his fingers in and out of your swollen cunt as you cried out. Your body shook slightly as you bit your lower lip, trying to stifle those angelic sounds “Let it out baby or i’ll stop.” Kai spat out softly, His hands started to slow down so you quickly spoke, brows pinched up slightly. “No- no please dont- mmph, dont stop.” You mumbled. A small smirk appeared on Hyuka's lips. It was strange how deceiving he was. Its like he has two different sides. He is so sweet, affectionate with you when he is around others. Going as far to play with your clothes, even pepper small kisses on your neck. But when he is the one begging you to go home with him because he got hard and needs you to satisfy him, he just completely switches up! Manhandling you, turning and throwing you around when he wants. Holding your arm up when he fucks you senseless.

The pace of Kai’s fingers only went quicker the louder you moaned. Your back arched as you jumbled your words of “right there” “so good” and “gonna cum” along with a bunch of curses. You moved your body back slightly but Hyuka quickly pulled you back onto his fingers. “ ‘s too much baby-” You grunted softly, squeezing your eyes shut as he went at an unforgiving pace. You could barely even speak at this point with the amount of pleasure and overstimulation literally ruining you. Kai didnt respond to your words as he abused your cunt. You went from cursing to begging him to let you cum just once more like you didnt cum a few moments ago. And finally, he agreed. You slowly came down from your high as you chested heaved in and out heavily. Your shirt lifted right about your breasts from Kai’s earlier teasing. Suddenly, you felt a warm tongue clean you up at your core. You slowly shook your head with a slight furrow to your brows, giving Kai a playful glare. “Mm? It was only prep anyways baby! We haven't even started yet.” Kai chuckled softly, lifting his head from in between your legs, flashing his iconic smile.

Were you tired? Hell yes, but where you gonna stop him from making you feel so right? Nuh uh. He needed you so bad, and he knows you need him too. ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა

a/n: this was inspired by the answer the one and only @dearlyjun (sorry for the tag 😭) gave me when i sent her an ask a bit ago so hope yall like it 💞

#txt #kpop #tomorrow x together #txt x reader #txt hard hours #txt smut #kpop smut #hueningkai #hyuka #kai #hyuka smut #hyuka x reader #hyuka hard thoughts #hyuka scenarios #hyuka hard hours #curse writes

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greenxgloss · 25 days

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haaaiii mootie pie!! i'm here with a lil request :3

so like, i don't have any actual ideas BUT soft fluffy gentle sex with charlie hhrnmmggnghnrhhrnrm 😵‍💫 idk sorry, bye bye mwahh!!

MOOTIE PIE I LOVE THAT AND THE DRAWING this is so cute

Movie Date (Charlie Walker) NSFW

Tags: @romanroyapoligist @nevvdrinksteaa @444rockstargf @wildathevrt

Summary: you ask Charlie on a movie date at home and you escalate the moment, unable to hold yourself back Contents: Fem!Reader, NSFW, Use of Y/N, Soft!Dom!Charlie (cuz ik you like that one pooks), unprotected sex, p in v, reader receiving oral

You slipped on your black lace set as you got ready for your date with Charlie. you finally worked up the courage to ask him out knowing he wouldn't make the first move and you planned to put out on the first date of course.

You finished getting ready, sitting in excitement waiting for the clock to hit. and suddenly you heard the knock on your front door. quickly you got the popcorn out and ran to the door to answer it. "Hi!" you exclaimed, your eagerness getting away from you. And you would have been embarrassed if it wasn't for the grin already glued to his face with flowers in his hands. "You sweet boy." you said pulling him inside and closing the door behind him. "Hi." he said, exhaling like he'd been holding his breath and immediately you could tell he was nervous.

"I got some new horror movies for us to watch." you said, bubbly and excited, taking the bouquet from his hands and leading him to the kitchen to search for a vase. "That's actually the sweetest thing." he giggled. all he could do was look at you endearingly like he was staring at his dream girl. "you haven't kissed me yet." he said, holding his hands behind his back like a boy waiting patiently for his turn. you giggled. "in time my sweet boy." you teased, taking his hand and leading him to the living room after putting the flowers in water.

You plugged in the first movie and sat next to Charlie, crossing a leg over his lap and snuggling into him, making sure you jumped into him when a scary scene came on. obviously, you weren't scared you just wanted him to hug you tighter. your hands unconsciously slipped down his waist.

He let out a forced yawn and wrapped his arm around you, causing you to giggle. "you're such a cliche." you told him. "i-is that bad?" he asked, looking down at you. "no I like it, I like the cliche, I like when you touch me." you whispered, causing him to reach around and gently lay his hand on your lower stomach. your breath hitched. "like this?" he asked quietly and you nodded in response as he inched his hands lower. "you know why I haven't kissed you yet?" you asked, getting up and turning to straddle him. "to torture me?" he asked, looking up at you and placing his hands on your hips. "no I just knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself once I started." you told him as you leaned down to kiss him.

You tugged at his shirt and he pulled away to take it off. you sat back and watched him, running your hands down his chest. "God Charlie you're so fine." you whispered. he pulled you in, kissing you softly and sensually, raising the hair on your arms. "Charlie." you spoke. "yeah?" he breathed out. "I need you." You began unzipping his jeans as you began getting undressed. "oh you planned to put out on the first date huh?" he asked almost out of breath eyefucking you in your matching set and it made you more eager, you just wanted to put your hands all over him. "of course I did." you giggled, wiggling out of your jeans. you saw his eyes falter for a moment, thinking you probably did this with most guys. "only for you Charlie." you whispered, getting back on his lap.

Charlie already had a hard on, begging for your gentle hands to wrap around it. you began grinding your hips down and his mouth opened right up. "oh fuck it feels so good, Y/N." he gripped your hips gently, scared to bruise you. charlie leaned in to gently bite down on your neck, leaving hickeys. "brand me, baby. I want to be at school showing people I'm yours." your words tasting like sugar slipping through your lips. though his mouth wasn't on yours, Charlie groaned into your skin at how sweet you tasted. he reached down to pull your panties aside and lifted you to slowly slip himself into your heat.

he craved you so bad, wanting to please you and listen to you whine out his name. This being exactly what you did as it slipped deeper and deeper. "oh Charlie fuck." the sound of your moan pushing Charlie to lightly buck his hip up. "yeah? that feels good? tell me what you want. faster?" he asked, watching you close your eyes in pleasure. "no keep going slow I like it. please please just keep going." you said reaching down and rubbing tight circles on your clit. "that's my job baby let me do all the work." he said, gently pulling away your hand and flipping you on your back now in missionary.

he replaced your hand and began rubbing those quick tight circles while keeping his slow pace. you were now a moaning mess begging him to speed up. "you feel so good Y/N." he said both of you now sweating and feeling your release approach. "I'm- I'm close Charlie." you stuttered as his thrust became sloppy. you gripped the pillow behind you as you felt yourself untangle and melt under his touch. he moaned out, collapsing on your chest.

"you're so beautiful." he let out as you both caught your breath. "and wow you sound just as beautiful." you could hear his smirk as you said this, running your hands through his hair. "speak for yourself loser." you joked. "right I'm the loser but you couldn't kiss me because you wouldn't be able to hold back from fucking." he said looking up at you, leading you to lightly pulling his hair. "watch it pretty boy." you said, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

"Can I.." he trailed off, reaching his hand down to your heat. "UM YES? Be gentle I'm still sensitive" you exclaimed. "I love it when you ask for permission like I'd ever say no." you said, rushing to sit up when he got off you. he spread your legs and kissed up your thighs until he reached your dripping heat. "I'll make sure to do it every time." he said before licking a stripe up your pussy. you let out a quiet moan, your hand flying up to your mouth. "don't cover your mouth baby I wanna hear those sweet moans." he whispered up at you, pulling away. you nodded. he went back down, sucking and gently biting causing your back to arch as you gripped his hair. "oh god it's so good." you whimpered as his tongue dipped into you and before you knew it you spilled your release into his mouth. "you taste so good Y/N." he said, getting up to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips, biting his lower lip. "you can have a taste whenever you want, my love." you said, pulling away. the both of you cuddling on the couch the rest of the night, switching the movie over to a romcom and feeding each other popcorn.

there would definitely be more dates.

A/N: i worked a little bit more on this one HOPE YOU LIKED IT ARTIE!!

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jinhyun · 9 months

Text

↬part one.

"these days, i haven't been sleepin'

stayin' up playin' back myself leavin'"

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: written series, angst, fluff, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, she fell first but he fell harder, yearning, mutual pining, non-idol au, baker!y/n, movie producer!hyunjin.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: y/n has self-sabotaging tendencies, cursing, mentions of alcohol, eventual smut, mature content, MINORS DNI!!!

tag list: open. send me an ASK to be a part of it, otherwise i might miss it. i will only be adding people who are willing to reblog the chapters and/or comment on them, because it does take time out of my day to tag everyone and likes or straight up cricket noises do nothing for me in return if i'm honest.

a/n: so, here's the first part!! idk how long the rest will be but i feel like 4k is okay for now :'). some things were just lightly acknowledged in this part but don't worry, everything will be explained better later on. i hope you guys enjoy!

feedback is very dearly appreciated<3

"You look terrible".

You jolted at Seungmin's remark, feeling your heart race after he had crept up behind you while you focused on neatly placing the freshly made cupcakes in the showcase.

Without saying a word to him as you tried to calm down from the sudden scare, your eyes focused on the large Caramel Macchiato he had placed by you on the counter, smiling softly at his silent show of affection.

"A 'hello' would've been appreciated too, you know?" you hummed, straightening up and leaving the half-emptied tray on the counter before your eyes met your friend's unamused ones.

"I see you every day. Thought we were past hello's by now" he shrugged.

"Are we?" you scrunched up your nose.

"I mean, we should be because it's tiresome to—Just drink your damn coffee".

A throaty laugh escaped your mouth at his sudden exasperation, not waiting another second to follow his order and take a long sip of the beverage he had prepared for you, feeling your muscles relax as soon as the sweetness of it reached your tastebuds.

"Is it good?" he asked.

You rolled your eyes. "You already know the answer to that, you cocky bastard".

"Doesn't hurt to hear it every once in a while" he smirked proudly.

"What did I even do to deserve a coffee made by the Kim Seungmin anyway?"

"Oh, don't act like you don't ask me to make you at least three of these every day".

"Ask is the keyword" you pointed out, taking another sip of it.

He sighed, finally dropping the playful mood and leaning against the wall. "You seemed out of it…"

"Aww, were you worried about me?" you brought a hand to your chest.

"Shut up," he mumbled. "You didn't even hear me come in. I was literally right next to you making your coffee and you wouldn't notice. And your face is…"

"Do I look that bad?" you wondered.

Seungmin shook his head no, yet the concern on his face was clear. "Just tired as hell. Did you get any sleep?"

"Not really," you sighed, leaving the cup on the counter and running your hands over your face. "I'd say I got like three hours of sleep at most".

"Something happened?" he tilted his head.

You lowered your head, and that was all it took for him to read you like an open book.

"Did you get the invitation?"

You felt the air being punched out of your lungs at Seungmin's question. You had hoped that particular question wouldn't be asked at all that day. You had hoped the topic as a whole wouldn't be brought up. But it was Seungmin, you should've expected him to be up-front about it.

You sighed, nervously wiping your hands against your apron before turning around to head towards the cash register — with absolutely no other purpose than to avoid this conversation.

"Did you?" he pushed it, following hot on your heels. "Y/N, come on".

You said nothing.

The answer was so obvious, you wondered why he wanted you to confirm it to him so bad.

Had it been facing upwards all along, you wouldn't have felt your heart being stabbed by a thousand knives.

Of course you had gotten the invitation. It had been lying on the floor of your apartment all day, patiently waiting by the door for you to arrive.

It had been the first thing that caught your eye as soon as you entered your place, and you cursed at whoever decided to slide it downwards under the door. Had it been facing up, you wouldn't have felt your pressure drop the moment your eyes fell on it. You wouldn't have felt your knees go weak and tremble as you reached down to pick it up, and you wouldn't have felt your face heat up at the same time that tears welled up in your eyes.

Because, for the five seconds that it took for you to kneel down and pick the delicate creme envelope up, and for the ten others that it took for you to gain enough strength to flip it over in your shaking hands, you believed the names on the invitation would be the same two that were the cause of your heartbreak.

Hyunjin and Minji, you said under your breath — cursing once again, over how even their names sounded perfect next to one another.

Please, don't be Hyunjin and Minji.

Please.

As soon as you flipped it over, you felt pathetic. How scarred did you have to be for your first thought to a wedding invite being that Hyunjin and his best friend were getting married?

It had been nearly eight months now since you broke up with him, you would've thought your body wouldn't get such a reaction out of a simple envelope on your floor. And the rational part in you wanted to believe he wouldn’t be marrying someone else when it hadn’t even been a year yet. You knew you wouldn’t; not when you were nowhere near halfway there when it came to getting over him and moving on.

Pathetic, that's how you felt.

Wanting to forget about it all, you threw the invitation on your key table before taking your shoes off and heading to bed. Thankfully, this time it laid facing upwards and wouldn't bring you any more heartbreak, since it now displayed the names of the lovely couple who was about to get married and would like you to join them on such a special day.

Felix and Hyejin.

"Mhm…" you hummed in response after what felt like an eternity.

That was as much of an answer as Seungmin would get from you.

"Are you going?" he inquired.

You shrugged. "Don't know".

"What do you mean you don't know?!" he scoffed. "Y/N, it's Felix and Hyejin we're talking about. We've been friends since the beginning of college. Fuck, we’ve been friends with Hyejin since high school!"

"So?" you helplessly tried to fight back, knowing well enough you were at disadvantage here.

"So?!" Seungmin grew frustrated. "I get that you and Hyunjin broke up and I've been very understanding when it comes to not pushing you into hanging out with our group anymore, but it's our friends' wedding we're talking about this time".

You sighed, leaning against the counter in search of some kind of support. "I know…"

"You can't avoid us forever".

"I haven't avoided you" you pouted.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the only reason you didn't push me away like the rest was because we're literally linked by a contract and have to see each other at our coffee shop on the daily".

"Come on now, don't be like that" your voice weakened, reaching for his hand and holding it in between both of yours. "I can't even remember what my life was like before we became friends, I wouldn't have pushed you away out of everyone".

Seungmin's semblance softened — both at your words and at the miserable look in your eyes. In the end, he was all you had, and although honored, he couldn't help but feel his chest hurt over how you had ended up here.

Not even a year ago, you used to have a team of ten people rooting for you. You used to have a perfect support system, and you used to be a part of it for your friends, too. Now, you had managed to close yourself off and push everyone away. You had cleared the way for Hyunjin and Minji to take over, not wanting to make things awkward after everything that went down. After all, you were the one who ended things, it was only fair for you to be the one to take a step back.

Now, it was only him to you. Y/N and Seungmin, just like it had been up until high school.

With a small smile, he squeezed your hand tenderly. "I really think you should go…"

You bit your lip, looking down to your black shoes, which suddenly seemed like the most interesting view in the world.

Truth be told, you wanted to go. For Hyejin and Felix, you wanted to attend. Being there with them on the most important day of their lives would be a dream come true. But you just weren't ready to face their guests — two of them in particular.

"Will you at least think about it?" he pushed it once more when he realised you might not speak up again. "Before sending your confirmation back by the end of the week".

"Will he…" your voice came out of your mouth before you could stop it, still not being able to look up. "Are they…" you sighed, feeling like you might break down from the thought of it alone. "Are they going together?"

It wasn't necessary for you to say their names, for Seungmin knew well enough who 'they' were.

"You made me promise not to ever tell you about them, no matter how hard you begged".

"That was before knowing I'd might have to face them again".

Seungmin smiled reassuringly. "I don't know, if I'm honest".

The glare you gave him was enough to have him step back and hold both hands up as a sign of peace.

"Cross my heart!" he promised. "Lix and Hye had talked about getting married here and there but the invitation took us all by surprise, you would've known if you hadn't left our group chat".

You smiled melancholically. You used to love that group chat, it had been one of your main sources of sanity all throughout college, and later on the source of many callouts from your friends when Hyunjin and you started dating and inevitably became that couple.

You missed it. You missed your friend group, all of them, even Minji, as sad as it was. But being in the same group as her and Hyunjin was something you were not strong enough to make it through, so you left.

"I'm not sure I should go then…" you confessed. "Imagine if they went there together. I would break down right there, Min".

"Aww, no, come here" he pulled you into a hug, tightly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your face into his chest. "I doubt they'll go together, but if they do you can leave. I just want you to show up for Felix and Hyejin, even if you literally only go there to congratulate them and then dip".

A muffled chuckle was heard against his chest. "That would be a bit rude, don't you think?"

"Then stay" he pulled you back by your shoulders, locking his eyes with yours. "You don't even have to look their way. We can go together, I'll make sure to block his view whenever he's within your visual range".

"You'd do that for me?" you pouted.

"Of course, I'll be like your personal bodyguard".

"You should probably gain a bit more muscle for that" you teased, poking his bicep.

"Shut up" he offendedly let go of you.

"You don't have to sacrifice your plus one for me, though" you let him know. "You can take whoever you want with you, I'll be fine".

"Well, it's not like I've got a lot of people lined up to date me, do I?" his snarky remark earned a laugh from you. "Plus, we'd kill three birds with one shot".

"Isn't it supposed to be two?" you tilted your head.

He shook his head. "Three".

You motioned for him to go on with his point.

"The both of us would get a date and wouldn't be put in one of those lame tables for single people so we can mingle" he cringed, and you giggled. "I'd be able to keep you from interacting with Hyunjin and Minji all day long. And, we could make Hwang a lil jealous while at it. I know he was lowkey always jealous of me being close to you".

You snorted, finding his third point absolutely ridiculous. "Oh, come on. What was there to be jealous of?"

"Should I be offended?"

"You're an idiot," you laughed. "But I will take you up on your offer".

"So you're going?!" he cheered up.

"No, I mean… I still have to think of it, but if I do, we should go together".

"Okay then, I guess I'll be waiting" he sighed, quite over dramatically at that. "Please let me know when you make up your mind, so I know whether to check the plus one option or not".

"Will do" you smiled, going back to the long-forgotten cupcakes on the counter in order to keep placing them in the showcase. "Now go see if everything's in order so we can open for the day".

"Yes, boss".

You rolled your eyes. "For the millionth time, I'm not your boss. We're literally associates".

"Yeah, and we're both the bosses here" he reminded you, stealing a salted caramel cupcake from the tray. "Would really appreciate it if you called me boss around our workers from time to time".

"Just go, big boss" you humored him.

Seeing him give you the middle finger while he stuffed his mouth and walked away, you knew the day would go by smoothly.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

When you arrived home later that night, you were confident to check your assistance on the invitation. Seungmin's pep talk that morning had really done the trick, and the fact that it had been a very busy day at the coffee shop hadn't left that much space for overthinking throughout the day.

So, when you walked into your apartment that evening, you confidently grabbed the envelope you had thrown to the table by the entrance the day before and made your way to the desk inside your bedroom.

Taking a seat by it, you allowed yourself to pay attention to the details on the envelope for the first time. Violet had always been Hyejin's favourite colour, and you couldn't help but smile when you saw the few touches of it on the creme paper. Their names were delicately written in cursive with a black pen right in the middle, and it looked so perfect that it actually had you wondering whether it had been written by hand or in a computer.

Just like Hyunjin and Minji, Felix and Hyejin were, too, names that you considered to look perfect together. You wanted to believe Hyunjin and Minji weren't actually meant to be, though — unlike Lix and Hye, who were so fucking perfect for each other, that it only took you one minute with them the day you all met to realise they were meant to be.

Trying to erase the melancholic smile from off your face, you grabbed a black pen and opened the envelope for once and for all.

The words on the paper that informed the details of when and where the event was taking place went right through your head as you searched for the small square you would have to check in order to attend.

You were going.

Yes, you were going.

That's what you repeated to yourself like a mantra while your mind fought with your body, as the still hand holding the pen wouldn't come down to check the goddamn 'I'm attending' box.

You were going.

You had told yourself you were going.

But, after staring blankly at the paper on your desk for five minutes without being able to move, you came down to the conclusion that you couldn't bring yourself to write down on it.

Not when you were reminded of who you might bump into if you ended up attending.

No matter how hard Seungmin tried to block your view, no matter how hard you tried not to look around for him and have tunnel vision for the groom and bride standing on the aisle only, you knew you would somehow end up caving in.

Because no matter how hard you fought it, your eyes would always look for him in a room full of people. And you knew that if you looked and he was with her, your heart would break all over again and you would not be able to control the tears that would come rolling down your face in an instant.

Even if they were not a couple, even if they did not attend as each other's plus one, you knew you would break down at the most minimal of their interactions — because Hyunjin was no longer yours, and he had been hers first.

Granted, they had never been physically involved —as far as you knew and as far as you wanted with everything in you to believe—, and you had always been too scared to ask Minji if she ever had feelings for him, but Hyunjin did have feelings for her. To make matters worse, he used to have them up until right before you and him got romantically involved.

"She is the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on" Hyunjin said one night.

You had all been drinking at Minho's on a Friday night, just for the sake of having a good time as the best friends you were — all eleven of you.

Hyunjin was on his third drink already and could feel his eyes becoming heavy, but even then, his eyes would light up at the sight of Minji. Your heart tightened at the realisation, having to remind yourself that it was just a crush and you needed to let go of it before you ended up hurt.

You were well aware of it, but it was hard to let it go when you were sitting down next to him on the couch and his knee was ever-so-naturally touching yours. It was hard to let go of it when the two of you got along so well and would spend hours just sitting beside each other talking about anything and everything at the same time.

And it was hard not to feel your chest hurt every single time he would steal a glance towards Minji, who kept laughing at anything that Han said as they talked by the kitchen's entrance.

It hurt, because he looked at her like she held the stars in the sky, and you wished he would look at you the same.

You wished he would look at you like that. Period.

Not her. Only you.

But he did not. You could tell the difference in his chocolate eyes when they focused on you and when they focused on her, and it hurt the same every single time.

"Why don't you tell her?" you asked regardless, trying your best to push your feelings away.

Hyunjin looked at you as if the most stupid of ideas had just come out of your mouth — and, in a way, it had. "We've been friends since we were twelve, there's no way".

"She's gonna find out eventually if you keep saying those things out loud when she's in the same room" you shrugged, bringing your cup to your mouth, quietly sipping down on your beer.

"What? Did I say something? What did I say?" he silently freaked out.

A bitter smile curved up your mouth, which was thankfully covered by the cup still pressed to your lips.

Hwang Hyunjin was so in love with his best friend that he didn't even realise when he called her the most beautiful woman his eyes had ever seen.

You wished he could ever feel that way about you, but you knew he wouldn't. Between Minji and you, you knew his heart would always choose her. And it was okay. After all, you only had a crush on him. You could make it go away any time.

Oh, how wrong you were. And how you wished it was just a crush.

How you wished you had actually put some effort into making it go away when you had the chance, instead of only letting it grow bigger and stronger by the day.

But not falling for Hyunjin was one of the hardest things you had fought against, and you failed oh-so-miserably at it.

It was his way with words and how he made you feel like the most special person in the world before the two of you were even a thing. It was the way he made you feel like no one else but the both of you existed. The way he would stare and not even try to play it off. The way he would out of nowhere say the sweetest of things to you and expect you not to become a blabbering mess in front of him.

How he would Facetime you at any time of the day just to check up on you and tell you about the plot he had randomly came up with while doing the most mundane of chores; and how he'd show up at your place with your favourite drinks and food, only for the latter to inevitably go cold, as he always seemed to arrive in the middle of your baking sessions, which resulted in him becoming your personal assistant whose commissions would be paid in all the pastries his stomach could handle.

Everything was too perfect for you not to fall head over heels for him.

The darkside of it all was that you only got to experience all that when Minji went abroad for one semester.

He didn't have her anymore, and suddenly he noticed you.

It was as if a switch had been turned off and just like that all the attention he paid to her was now focused on you. It almost felt like he was looking for a replacement in the meantime, and you were too over the moon to realise. Until she came back, and everything you had built together came crashing down.

And maybe it was your fault for letting your insecurities win over the love he claimed to feel for you, but it was hard —if not impossible— for you not to feel like you had just been there to temporarily fill a void.

As soon as she came back, you felt threatened. The second his eyes laid on her and they hugged like they were each other's oxygen after being at the verge of drowning, you knew your days together were counted.

You should've stopped it all back when it was just a crush, when she still hadn't left and you didn't have the chance to have Hwang Hyunjin's attention on you in all its splendor yet.

Maybe then the two of you wouldn't have ended up getting together when she was away. Maybe then you wouldn't have gotten so goddamn insecure when she came back and they inevitably became attached to the hip all over again, like they always were.

Maybe then you wouldn't have gone through the hardest of breakups and the most painful of heartbreaks.

No matter how convinced you were that leaving him was the best you could've done to keep your sanity, you couldn't help but feel like it was not the best choice for your heart.

Ever since you walked away that December night, it felt like something was missing, like you were in a constant state of waiting for something to arrive at your doorstep but it never would.

It was almost comical, how no matter what decision you made, whether you stayed with him or not, your heart would break regardless. If you stayed, your heart would keep hurting every single time you saw him and Minji together. If you left, your heart would hurt over the loss of him.

In the end, you just had to choose the lesser evil. And fuck, letting go of him hurt so damn much you wondered if it was the lesser evil at all.

You wished you could erase that night from your memory. The words you said to push him away and the ones he said to keep you close, the sound of his voice breaking with each sentence leaving his mouth, his gloomy, red eyes looking at you like you had just ripped his heart apart, the endless tears staining those rosy cheeks of his you had just been covering with kisses one day ago.

Everything about it, about how you walked away, you wished you could forget.

It was all on you. You hurt him, and would never forgive yourself for it, no matter how much you convinced yourself it had been the best choice for you.

He had fought for you until the end, and you did not look back from your decision once.

You had lost sleep for weeks after that, and then last night you could not bat an eye as you went through all the possibilities that would come with you attending the wedding. Over and over, you wondered whether you would be able to handle seeing him again after all this time.

Overwhelmed by all the memories and what if's that had been unleashed inside your head by simply staring at that one piece of paper, you took a deep breath and put the pen down.

Although Seungmin’s pep talk had worked wonders to help you get through with the day, and although it had managed to convince you for most of it, you realised it was not a decision you could make that easily. Not that day, at least.

With a heavy heart, you stood up from your desk and decided to make yourself some tea in hopes to ease your mind — leaving the invitation laying there in the darkness of your room, once again left to be forgotten.

You still had the rest of the week to think this through.

tag list: @brinnalaine @slut4colinbridgerton @sherryblossom @svintsandghosts @phenomenalgirl9 @meloncremesoda @jxcesstuff @nhyunn @armystay89 @babrieeee

#skz #stray kids #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #hyunjin imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #hyunjin fanfic #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin scenarios #skz series #stray kids series #hyunjin series

312 notes · View notes

kittysarchive · 19 days

Note

hiiii<3 first off, i js wanna say ur writing is amazing and i love ur work sm!!<33 Second, I was wondering if I can req and yandere! skz with a sub reader with a choking kink?? idk if this is too much but i went based off ur prompt list, u don't have to if u don't want to, u js keep shining like the amazing and beautiful person u r <333

THANYOU LOVE UUUUU......I haven't written yandere content in a while!!

Chan

He'll feel....almost proud. Proud that he has corrupted you.

"You like that? You dirty girl" His grip on your neck tighten, causing you to moan out, fuelling his pride. "Your fucking mine....you hear that?" Chan loves, feeling power just from choking you. Gosh, it felt so good. His thrusting speeds up, feeling you loose air. "Not yet baby" He wanted to choke you as long as a he could, he wanted to hurt you for as long as he could, he wanted to fuck you for as long as he could. "Not yet" He repeats, feeling you clench around him, your 3rd orgasm was approaching.

Lee Know

He felt....more possessive of you.

Hearing you coke, hearing you cry, hearing your begging...begging for him to coke you harder, it all felt unreal. "Want me to choke you harder? Is that what you want slut? "Y-yes" You manage to say, coughing harder as his grip tightens. You whine out, clenching hard around him, almost suffocating him. He wished he knew you were this dirty before he took you....he could have had so much more fun.

Changbin

Always manhandling you, always hurting you, always placing you in headlock....and finding out you liked that stuff....

Rutting into you like there was no tomorrow, Changbin groaned feeling you clench around cock. He continues his pace, slowing down, fearing he heard you wrong. "C-choke me" You say louder. Changbin had heard you correctly. Smile widening, he continues fuck you hard, brining a firm hand to your throat, restricting your air. Rolling his hips, his smile never left knowing he made you like this, knowing he changed you into this.

Hyunjin

You looked so gorgeous gasping for air....even more gorgeous when you asked for this.

"So pretty" He hummed, fingers wrapping around you neck, restricting more oxygen. Hearing you cry out, he knew he was doing it right. "Dumb baby" He cooed as you choked on your tears, fighting for oxygen, he loved you so much, crying for hi to let go, he may have gone to tight, trying to unravel his fingers, you looked so cute crying below him

Han

Taking it into hand, he may of went to far.

"F-fucking whore, wanting me to choke you like a slut huh?" Han laughs, teasing as your eyes well up with tears, continuing to degrade you, you wish you never told him this. "You crying? You asked for this bitch" His hips jack hammer into yours, showing no signs of slowing down. Sharing a kink should not result to this. "You need air? Did I say you could fucking squirm?" His eyes darken, pissed you tried to remove his hands. Clenching your throat harder, you feel yourself sleeping away.

Felix

Aw, his baby wants to get choked

"You want to get choked baby?" He smiles, hands ghosting over your neck. "Want me to hurt you? You a pain slut huh?" He laughs, fingers curling around your neck. "Don't worry baby, I'll give you what you want" He declares, closing off your air as he fucks your brains out, making dure your remember this pain.

Seungmin

Proud. Put into words, proud, put into actions, fucking you harder.

Hearing your polite command to choke you...he complied. Fucking you harder, thrusting in deeper as he took away your air. "Is this what you wanted? Wanted daddy to choke you?" He laughs, seeing how you pathetically nod your head. "Don't worry, I'll fuck you nice and good" Seungmin smiles, his hips speeding up as they slam down into you, knocking the remaing air out of your lungs.

Jeongin

Surprised but not complaining.

"Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you huh? Fuck you and choke you baby?" He laughs, his hands choking you. Feeling your moans vibrate onto his hands, his thrusts into you harder. "Should've told me sooner baby" He leans his head down, sucking your jaw harshly as his hips slam into yours, his heavy balls slapping your ass.

#skz smut #skz imagines #yandere skz headcannons #yandere skz #skz x reader #yandere skz smut #stray kids angst

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seasonsbloom · 2 years

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baby, let's play house. rooster (part 1)

part 2

pairing ; bradley bradshaw x female!reader

synopsis ; marriage of convenience. you got yourself in trouble. bradley has a bit of a savior complex. together, you come up with what could potentially be the worst idea in the longstanding and illustrious history of bad ideas.

wc ; 12.5k

warnings ; 18+ only, minors do NOT interact; angst; explicit language; explicit sexual content in later parts; pregnancy; mentions of infidelity; mentions of vomit; mentions of Tom Cruise; unhealthy family dynamics; one mention of suic*de but it's not a plot point; age gap

note: uhm... i blacked out. idk either. part 2 should be out eventually, which of course means that i haven't even started writing it yet. there will probably be several mistakes in here regarding the navy, etc. so i'm sorry about that i'm just dumb :-(

sol. sunderlust. crab. bestie... i love you forever, what would i ever do without you?

When you’re fourteen, sitting on a floral couch in one of the nondescript, army-commissioned houses you’ve been moving to every few months since you were old enough to remember, your mother turns on Cocktail with Tom Cruise, and you decide that, once you’re grown up, you’re going to be a bartender. You’re going to do just what Tom does - get a job in some dive, work your way up, learn the bottle slinging and the shot pouring and the flirting, and then you’re going to franchise the whole thing and take it national. It’s going to be just like TGI Fridays, except your drinks will actually be good instead of whatever watered-down punch they serve.

Of course, you’re fourteen, and you don’t even know what alcohol tastes like yet. Years later, you’re going to take a shot of Tequila at a bar, you’re going to splutter and cough and think you might choke, and it’ll leave you wondering if maybe you’ve made a mistake. But for now, you’ve got a dream, and you’ve got a plan, and not a smidge of doubt that you’ll make it all come true.

You’re going to do just as Tom Cruise does - minus the best friend’s suicide from the movie and the real-life Scientology thing and all that. But you’re going to be successful. You know it.

So this, then. This is not part of your plan at all.

Behind you, there’s a bang, and then the back door is ripped open. The buttery light of the bar spills in a rectangle across the beaten path, but it doesn’t reach your little corner. You hear the muffled thud of footsteps, a curse, followed by a shout of your name.

“Yeah?” you call back, hope you don’t sound like you’re balancing on the edge of a mental breakdown. Hope you don’t sound like you feel.

“Your shift’s about to start. I really need you in there cutting up some limes, please,” Jerry, your co-worker, says. Thank God he doesn’t walk over to investigate just what you’re doing huddled in the sand behind the bar.

“Okay,” you answer, voice a little wobbly, “I’ll be in in a sec.”

You wait until you hear the door shut behind Jerry, then you unfold yourself, get your shaky legs underneath your weight. You feel like somebody hit you over the head with one of those huge hammers they use to knock down walls. The nausea is back, too, something queasy and watery that shifts through your stomach.

Inside the bar, everything is like it always is. The chatter of the customers, the drawl of the music, the smell of beer, and the Ocean Breeze scented cleaner you use to wipe the floors. Far below it, the scent of the real ocean breeze drifting in through the opened windows. It seems wrong for the Hard Deck to be unchanged, unaltered, untouched when your own life has gone so completely off the rails.

You sneak in a quick, discreet bathroom break to swipe at the mascara smudged beneath your eyes, to dab at it with some damp toilet paper, to hope nobody will notice the obvious signs of tears still clinging to you. To stare at your reflection in the mirror for a moment, try not to think about that stupid test you buried at the bottom of the trashcan. You can taste your heartbeat in your mouth.

You don’t look any different - same nose, same hair, same eyes - but something has irrevocably shifted inside of you.

Behind the counter, you cut up the limes you promised Jerry. The scent clings to your fingers, the juice settles in the calluses. The steady sound as the knife meets the cutting board and the familiar motion of your hands help to ground you a little.

“Could we get a refill?”

You lift your head and then immediately lower it again, shoulders going up, turning to the side in an attempt to hide your face. If there are two people you don’t want to see tonight, then…

“Oh my god.” Natasha’s face pushes into your line of vision, her eyebrows crinkled, her mouth pursed. “Have you been crying?”

Waving her words of concern away with one hand, you grab for their empty glasses with the other.

“Allergies,” you lie. “I’ve got two on tap here, which one did you guys have? The German or the…”

“You don’t have allergies,” Bradley points out. You’d made it a point not to look at him, but now your gaze snaps in his direction. He stands with his eyes narrowed, with his hands on the polished wood of the bar top. Concern flutters across his face.

There’s something about Bradley Bradshaw. You like to think of it as a gravitational pull. Something with force, something that makes people look at him. Something that grounds them, too, though, gives them a tether.

Ever since he first walked into this bar a little over a year ago, it’s like he’s become a fixture in your life, even if you only see him once or twice a week, even if it’s just a quick exchange of words over a countertop. Bradley Bradshaw makes for a good North Star.

He shrugs, and there’s something almost sheepish to it. “It was part of your list of reasons why you’re better than Hangman last month.”

You pause, still holding the glasses, and stare at him. He looks right back.

“That’s beside the point,” Natasha pipes up. She’s balancing both her elbows on the bartop, pulling herself closer. “Why were you crying?”

That sort of shifts reality back into focus. What are you supposed to say? I let a guy who isn’t even really my boyfriend but also not really not my boyfriend knock me up, and now I have no idea what the fuck to do? To two people who are little more than glorified acquaintances?

You shrug and decide they look like they’d enjoy the new craft beer Penny got on tap. It has notes of vanilla and apple, and you’re not much of a beer person, but even you like it. Or at least you used to.

“It’s nothing,” you say, drawing the first glass. It ends up perfect - amber liquid topped with just the right amount of foam, the little bobbles popping as you push it across the counter toward Natasha. Your life might be a mess, but at least you still know how to draw a damn good glass of beer from the tap. “Don’t worry about it.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow, but then she lets it go. “You know I’ll beat a guy up for you, right?”

You don’t doubt it. If there’s anybody in this bar you wouldn’t want to cross, it’s Natasha, and not just because of whatever training the Navy put her through. You’re convinced she came into the world knowing how to take a guy out.

“Yeah,” you agree and are surprised to find you mean it. Realistically, you’re not particularly close to any of the pilots. You chit-chat sometimes, have had a few drunken conversations after everybody else has filtered out of the Hard Deck while wiping down tables or collecting shot glasses, but that’s not really enough to support a true friendship. Still. If you asked, you have no doubt Natasha would go to bat for you. “It’s okay, though. I’m fine. I’ll put this on your tab, yeah?”

She looks like she wants to say something else, but then decides to let it go. Sighs, “Okay.”

As Natasha pushes off the bar to rejoin her group of friends toward the back of the bar, Bradley takes a step closer instead. You make it a point not to look at him, but the yellow and white of his Hawaiian shirt flashes in your periphery despite your best efforts.

He places a large hand on the countertop, palm down, and you should be looking busy, but all you can do is stare as his fingers starfish across the wood.

“You can talk to me, yeah?” he asks, and his voice is soft enough that it almost disappears in the din of this Saturday night. “Whatever it is.”

You do look up then. Bradley has brown eyes, round and big and deep. There’s something about them that makes you want to trust him, trust his words, trust the sincerity. It almost makes you start crying again.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

Then somebody’s shouting an order at you, and you’re pushing a coaster under a sweating Cuba Libre, you’re pouring a Tequila shot, you’re looking for the maraschino cherries, you’re passing out salt shakers, and you don’t notice as he disappears and you don’t think about anything for a short, blissful, beautiful time.

Two months ago, you met Luke halfway through the door of a bar you’d seen on Instagram, something with low lights and neon signs and booths cushioned in lush, ruby velvet. They had this signature cocktail there, something with rum and gold foil and a lot of smoke that drifted up in sweet-smelling plumes.

Luke was charming and laughed a lot, and when he put his hand on your waist, when he looked at you, your heart skipped a beat or two. And still, the first thing you told Penny about at work the next day was the cocktail and not the guy.

You’re almost entirely sure you’re not in love with him, but you’re excited about the idea that maybe someday you could be. Luke is a nice guy. He works in finance somewhere in San Diego, takes you to expensive seafront restaurants, and once or twice, he even bought you expensive lingerie. Luke likes the same movies as you do, likes putting on Jazz music when you go down on him in his car, and that always manages to make you feel strangely sophisticated even with a dick in your mouth. He’s older, and he has a real, grown-up job, completely unlike you with your singles soaked in beer.

He’s a stead-fast, reliable guy. If you have to be in this situation with anyone, you figure it’s better to be in it with him than some twenty-something surfer dude who couldn’t even find the word responsible in a dictionary.

The anxiety has been gnawing at you since last night, has been chipping away your composure and your calm. Has reduced you into a jittery, terrified, chafing shell of your former self. All day you were fumbling - burning your hand on the heated water kettle in the morning, almost running a red light, cutting your finger deep enough it didn’t stop bleeding for a whole five minutes.

Earlier today, you took a last, desperate stand. Propelled by the sort of hope that exists against all better judgment, you went on a CVS run and returned with three more pregnancy tests. You left them back at your tiny apartment, right on the counter where you put them out in the first place, those three tiny, horrible, life-altering plus signs laughing right in your face.

And that was it then. Your fate decided. Your luck run out.

Since you were fourteen, sitting on that floral couch, the course of your life had seemed so clear to you. You’d been so sure of where you wanted to go, so sure of how to get there. And yeah, okay, maybe you used to think you’d get there sooner, but that’s never deterred you before. Slow and steady wins the race, that’s what you used to think.

Now, ten years later, everything is muddled. You can’t see an inch ahead in the fog of all this.

To add insult to injury, those tests were fucking expensive. The next time you check your bank account, you might start crying.

So you spent a good fifteen minutes curled up on your bathroom tiles, staring at your shower curtain, blinking away tears you never shed. You spent a good fifteen minutes trying to figure it out, trying to untangle it, trying to make sense of how you could fuck up so completely.

And then you finally picked yourself up, massaged the grid pattern of the tiles off your cheek, and shot Luke a text asking if he was free tonight.

He drops by at the end of your shift.

“Hi, babe.” Luke grins as he slides into one of the bar stools. “You good?”

You nod, then pause. “Not really?”

You’re wiping down the bartop, dumping an ashtray you collected from the smoking zone outside into the trash. The Hard Deck is empty now, even the last stragglers filed out. Bob selected a song on the jukebox before he left, something slow and decidedly country. Your hands shake when you go to wet the rag again.

Luke frowns and leans across the bar to look at you closely. “What happened?”

“I have to tell you something,” you say and run the tap. The water hits the chrome of the sink with a splatter.

Luke raises an eyebrow, grins. “Illicit confession?”

Under any other circumstances, you would have laughed. But your stomach is coiled up in knots so tight you wonder if they’ll ever untangle again. Like the earphones you fish from the bottom of a purse.

You just so manage a half-hearted chuckle, a sad, pathetic little sound that has Luke’s eyebrow climbing even higher.

He pushes a brown paper bag across the counter. “I brought your favorite take-out… Would that cheer you up?”

Almost immediately, your stomach growls in answer. You’ve been so hungry the past few days that you can’t even manage to be embarrassed. “Mexican?” you ask, something like excitement in your voice for the first time in over 24 hours.

“Ah...” Luke bites his lower lip. “No, uhm… I got something from that one place we went to. The fusion kitchen?”

“Oh…” The excitement dampens immediately, and you force a smile. “Yeah, cool. Thanks.”

“Sorry… you did say you liked it when we went.”

He’s right. You did say that.

Luke likes experimental food, things like that cocktail with the gold foil. Things that look much better than they end up tasting. He takes pictures of them and posts them on his Instagram, and he always makes sure not to get your hand in, your purse, your foot. He doesn’t even follow you back, and you want to not care about trivial things like social media so very badly that you never ask him about it.

He looks genuinely apologetic, though, so you resolve to forgive him. You smile and say, “I did! This is great. Thanks, Luke.”

His satisfied smile puts you at ease.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

It’s a bit like a bucket of ice water. The ease slips away as quickly as it came. You start wiping almost furiously at a stain on the bartop, then give up. Stare at your fingers gone wrinkly with the sudsy water.

You open your mouth, and then you say, “I’m pregnant.”

It’s not what you meant to say. You meant to ease into this, make it sound… less final, somehow. As if that’s at all possible. As if that isn’t exactly what it is. Final.

You’re never going back from this, you realize suddenly. No matter what happens from here on out, there’s never going to be another moment where this hasn’t happened. Where you weren’t pregnant, where you didn’t mess it all up. The plan, the dream, the life.

Tears aren’t enough anymore. You’re going to run headfirst into the ocean and scream until the saltwater fills your lungs.

Luke laughs. You stare at him.

It takes a moment, but slowly he realizes that you’re not joking. That this is serious. The smile slides sideways off his face.

“Oh,” he says, and you can’t look at him anymore. So you let your eyes wander, down towards the lapels of his white dress shirt. He’s still wearing his suit and tie, and the realization that he’s come straight from the office touches you more than it should. At the same time, guilt settles in your stomach. You’re doing this to him, you’re altering his life, you…

The rational part of yourself scoffs, takes over the reins. It takes two to tango, you remind yourself. This is as much his fault as it is yours.

But that doesn’t get rid of the bitter taste in your mouth.

“Why…” Luke pauses. “Why are you telling me this?”

When you look up at his face again, his expression is carefully blank.

“Uh…”

“Shouldn’t you be telling the father?”

You blink. The cogs of your mind turn slowly like somebody slapped gum between them. “I am,” you say, wondering what the hell he’s on about.

“I’m not the father,” Luke says, very matter-of-factly. “You don’t need to lie about it.”

“I’m not lying.” You’re too stunned to even be insulted by the insinuation.

“It’s alright.” He shrugs his shoulders, his expensive suit in the tacky, glossy fabric catching the light. “It’s not like we’re exclusive. I don’t mind if you slept with somebody else.”

“Not exclusive,” you repeat lamely. Maybe that part shouldn’t catch you as off guard as it does. You’ve never discussed it with him in as many words, never sat down to have the whole boyfriend/girlfriend talk, but you’ve been seeing each other semi-regularly for two months now, and you’d just sort of assumed…

“Sure.” Luke nods. “Don’t blame this one on me, then.”

Oh. Your heart clenches, and suddenly it feels like you can’t breathe.

“I didn’t sleep with anybody else,” you say, but your voice sounds far away.

Luke shrugs. “Well, it can’t be mine.”

You don’t even know what to say to this. You’re in desperate, burning need of a shot, and the realization that you can’t have one zaps through you like a pain.

“We always used a condom,” Luke is saying, and his words drift to you through a fog, through a mist, through a thicket of fear and anxiety and ice-cold panic. “I made damn sure of that.”

“It’s not….” You clear your throat. “They’re only like… 98 percent safe. Condoms, I mean.”

“What, so you’re saying we’re those two percent?”

He looks like he’s about to start laughing again, and suddenly you barely recognize him. You’ve always known that Luke wasn’t the love of your life, but that was fine. Love hadn’t been part of the plan anyway, that was for later, much later, after you’d gone international and gotten rich off Mojitos and Pina Coladas and the occasional Old Fashioned. But Luke had been… well, he’d been nice. Always. He’d been someone to laugh with, had been long walks on the beach, and quick tumbles in his backseat. He’d been fun and nice and…

And you’d been stupid enough to hope. Hope for more, hope for better, hope for something.

“I can’t have a baby with you,” he says. His voice rings with finality.

What are you supposed to say to that? With those three positive pregnancy tests back home on your bathroom counter. With the knowledge that you haven’t slept with anyone else.

“Well,” you whisper, and the words come out softer than you want them to, “you are.”

Luke is very quiet for a moment. He’s looking right at you, the blue eyes you used to think were open, inviting, now slitted and probing. Like a snake.

“Jesus,” he says finally, draws back to run his fingers through his hair, a gesture of exasperation. His voice has lost some of its calm. “What do you want from me?”

You wonder if you look as dazed as you feel. “I don’t… I don’t want anything from you.”

That’s not true. You’d like him to hug you. You’d like him to tell you it’s going to be okay, even if that might be a lie. You’d like him to be nice to you.

Instead, Luke, who looks increasingly distressed, jerks his head and says, “If it’s a family you’re after… I can’t give you that.”

Everything has happened so quickly - the toppling of your plans, the chaos of your life. You haven’t really had time to think about how you want him to react. Not like this, though.

“Why not?” you ask and regret the question the moment it’s out of your mouth. You sound like a child - lost, confused.

Luke sighs. He rakes a palm over his face and shakes his head. When he finally looks at you again, there’s something almost guilty on his face. You can’t tear your eyes away, can’t help but feel your stomach plummeting down down down toward the ground. It’s like standing on the ledge of a skyscraper, feeling what the fall might be like even with both feet firmly planted.

“I can’t give you that,” he says, “because I already have a family.”

Beneath you, the ground seems to quiver.

“What?”

Luke pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, then reaches into his pocket and produces a shiny, golden wedding band. When he slips it back onto its original place on his finger, you watch the patch of pale skin, several shades lighter than the rest, disappear.

Your breath gets stuck somewhere in your chest.

“You’re… married?”

“Going on five years,” he says, and you think he sounds sad, but maybe that’s just your hope getting the better of you again.

You don’t know what to say. For a moment, you just stand there with the rag still in your hand, listening to the sad, sad voice of some wanna-be cowboy drawling from the speakers. Hear the phantom thud of the cues hitting pool balls. Turn your head to where the pilots were having fun earlier, back when things weren’t all jumbled up.

The whole world moves far, far away from you. Like something you watch on TV screens, something intangible, something fake. It’s not something that happens to people like you. It’s not something that happens to real people.

“It’s… you didn’t tell me that,” you say, and it’s like your voice echoes through a long, long tunnel, bounces off the walls like a tennis ball. “I didn’t know.”

And then you think back on it. Think of whispered phone calls in the dead of night, think of erratic work schedules, think of his insistence to come here instead of going to San Diego. Think of how little you know of his life, how firmly he kept you locked out of it.

Suddenly you’re not so sure if you didn’t know or if you just didn’t want to know. If you closed your eyes to what was right in front of you.

Guilt and anger and confusion flash through you in rapid succession. You feel sick to your stomach.

“I’ll give you money,” Luke says. It’s a peculiar thing - you see his mouth move before the words ever reach your ears, like a movie that’s gone out of sync with the audio.

“Money,” you repeat, very slowly. Or maybe not slowly at all. You just feel like you got stuck in molasses, like the whole world has been dipped in something sticky.

“Well. You’re getting rid of it.”

It’s not a question. He says it like it’s a fact, like it’s something that’s already been decided. Like it’s something you don’t get a say in.

You stiffen, fingers sinking into the wet rag. Soapy water drips over the lacquered wood of the bartop.

“No,” you say. “No, I’m not.”

About five minutes ago, you hadn’t even made your mind up about it yet. Hadn’t decided whether to keep it or not. Had still been weighing the pros and cons in your mind, turning them over like a Rosetta Stone that might help you decipher the encrypted, tangled mess of your thoughts.

And now that he’s said it, now that the option is right there in the open, suddenly you know that’s not the way you want it to happen.

“What,” Luke says, “you wanna have it?”

“Yes,” you answer, and you know it’s the truth.

Maybe it’s stupid. You’re twenty-four. You’re broke. You pick up shifts at a bar to pour tequila shots for other people. You live off the guys you flirt with long enough they decide you’re worth a tip. All those plans of grandeur, of franchises and cocktails and Park Avenue apartments, are dead-ends. You’ve been walking a cul-de-sac your whole life.

And still… something about it feels right to you.

You’ve been thinking about the whole thing in theory - the theoretical truth of that test, the theoretical reaction of Luke, the theoretical existence of that baby, the theoretical impact on your life. But it’s not a theory. It’s real.

There’s a baby growing in you.

It’s the most terrifying thought of your life. You’ve never experienced something so wonderful. Even as the fear eats away at you, even as your stomach churns and your head spins, some part of you feels illuminated with light.

Luke laughs. “Babe… no offense, but that’s a horrible idea.”

You clench your teeth and grit out, “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

He shrugs. “Well, you’re gonna get it. You really think you could raise a kid?”

“I don’t know,” you say, truthfully, and wonder where all this calm is coming from. “But I want to try.”

Luke stares at you as if you’re growing a spare set of ears right in front of him. Then he laughs again, shakes his head. You can’t see what’s so funny about any of this.

“Babe,” he says, “this isn’t some new Cocktail recipe. This is an actual child you’re talking about.”

If you weren’t so goddamn tired, it would make you angry. Set fire to you like a fuse. But you’re drained, empty, hollow. You want to go home, want to curl up in bed, want to cry. You want to go back two weeks in time, back when you were still just a failing waitress with a big dream. Back before the responsibility of it all hunched you over.

“I’m doing it,” you say, and hope he understands the decision is final. Hope your voice is firm.

Luke exhales. A muscle in his jaw twitches as he grinds his teeth, as he turns half away from you.

Finally, after an eternity, he says, “I can’t be involved in this.”

For your part, you understand that decision is final too.

You nod, grab onto the bartop to keep yourself from toppling over. The ground beneath you is a gaping, beckoning abyss. It’s going to swallow you whole.

“Fine,” you whisper. “I’ll do it alone then.”

For a moment, Luke looks almost surprised. As if he was sure you’d fold eventually, see reason. Listen to him.

You wonder if that’s how it’s been before - him pushing and you giving in. Rearranging your life to fit his schedule, his plans, his wants. Shrinking yourself to make room for him. And you didn’t even notice.

You straighten your spine.

“For what it’s worth,” Luke says as he slides off his chair, “I’m sorry.”

And then he does what men do best: He leaves. Walks away from you and the baby growing inside of you. Walks away from the mess he made, the dream he shattered, without a care or a thought. Without looking back.

You watch his retreating form, watch the set of his shoulders, the spring in his step, watch as he bounds down the steps onto the gravel of the parking lot, watch as the shadows eventually blot out the sight of him.

Good riddance, you want to say, but you can’t even form words.

With your heart torn to shreds, with your fear clawing a bloody path up your throat, you sink down onto the floor, press a hand to your mouth, and you sob.

Twenty minutes later, Bradley Bradshaw finds you in the exact same position.

You know it’s been twenty minutes because you’re staring at the digital clock of the dishwasher, counting down the wash cycle. The neon red of the numbers blurs through the veil of your tears.

It’s like somebody’s cut your chest open. Scooped you clean like taking a spoon to a tub of ice cream. Behind your ribcage, you feel hollow in a way that aches down to your bones. That spiderwebs through your veins.

Bradley pauses in the doorway, silhouetted by the outdoor lighting you still haven’t turned off. Like this, with your vision blurred, he looks like a drawing of the Virgin Mary on one of those cheap, tacky candles. Descending on a flurry of clouds and light and doves. Only this Virgin Mary wears Hawaiian shirts, apparently. It almost makes you laugh.

He casts his eyes over the room, a slight furrow dipping between his brows. It takes you a moment to understand he hasn’t seen you yet, not with how you’re crouching by the crates of Corona.

Part of you wants to hide, wants to crawl under the jutting canopy of the bar. Wants to pretend you’re not here, fold yourself into a tiny pocket square of a person until he leaves again.

“Hello?” Bradley asks, genuine confusion laced with the word, and you know you can’t do that.

“Hi,” you call back, and your voice sounds tiny. Miserable. You push up on your knees to preserve a bit of your dignity. The room goes spinning in a whirlwind, and you catch yourself with both hands on the wood, lifting up to peek at him over the edge of the bar. “I’m down here.”

For a moment, Bradley just stares at you. He takes in the scene, the smeared mascara, the swollen eyes, the fresh tears leaving tracks down your cheeks like you’re drawing rivers on a map.

Then he snaps into action. He’s crossing the room before you can even really come to terms with the fact that he’s here in the first place, pushing through the hip-high swinging door that separates the oval space hugged by the bar from the rest of the room and falling to his knees by your side.

“What happened?” Bradley asks, something hard to his voice. But when he goes to touch the side of your face, carefully as if you’re injured, as if you’re made of porcelain that’ll break at the slightest jostle, his brown eyes show nothing but genuine concern.

It makes you cry harder.

“Nothing,” you say, which is a ridiculous lie, all things considered. You’re crouching on the floor of your workplace, over an hour after your shift has ended, crying your eyes out. Clearly, there’s something wrong. “I’m fine.”

Bradley sits cross-legged on the hardwood floors, his knee close enough to graze against yours. He looks decidedly out of his depth, almost uncomfortable. Helpless. His mustache quivers as he opens his mouth, then closes it again.

But he doesn’t push. Doesn’t try to get you to explain it, doesn’t ask again. He just sits there with you, elbows on his thighs, and lets you cry.

It’s nice not to be alone. To have somebody with you, even if he doesn’t know you. Even if he has no idea what it is that has you on the brink of a complete crisis.

You do your best not to think about it. Not about the baby, not about the guy who just dumped you. Not about gold foil and Instagram posts and wedding bands. Not about how he’s made you a homewrecker, and you didn’t even know.

Maybe this is karma. The universe punishing you for your sins. Something like that.

Maybe it’s just really, really bad luck.

“What are you doing here?” you ask when you’ve finally calmed yourself enough the sobbing has subsided to sniffles.

Bradley jerks his head noncommittally. “I forgot my wallet.”

“Oh.” You try to get up, but your legs won’t cooperate. “I’ll help you look.”

He shakes his head, pulls you back onto the floor by the elbow. “It’s okay,” he says. “I’ll look for it later. What happened?”

There’s something about his tone that tells you this time he won’t let you get away with a half-assed lie. Which doesn’t stop you from trying.

“Just… rough day.”

Bradley looks at you, then pulls his knees up, lets his arms dangle between them. “You don’t have to tell me,” he says, and his voice is very gentle. “But if you want to… I can listen.”

This is the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. He has the kind of face that makes you want to tell him things. Makes you want to spill your secrets to him, pour them into his space. He’s steady, reliable, calm. It would be so easy to trust him.

That’s dangerous.

But you’re so tired, and you’re so broken, and you’re so terribly, horribly lonely. With Luke gone, with your parents out of the picture, with nobody to help and no one to hold you, the loneliness is like an ache, like a stain, like something that festers and spreads and unfurls inside of you.

You just want to pretend you don’t have to do it alone. Just for a moment.

So you say, “I think I did something stupid.”

Bradley’s eyes are very brown. A soft shade of brown, like milk chocolate. When you look at him, you feel warm all over.

“Alright,” he says, and there isn’t an ounce of judgment in it. It’s just a gentle, careful nudge for you to continue.

“I…” You exhale shakily, look down to the floor, twist the bracelet around your wrist. It’s so much harder to form the words the second time around. “I’m pregnant.”

Saying it to Bradley, who is practically a stranger, saying it to someone outside of whatever little bubble, whatever vacuum two people playing at love built around themselves, makes it real in a way it wasn’t before.

You’re pregnant. In a few months, your belly is going to grow to the size of a watermelon. You’re going to get ultrasounds and wear maternity clothes and buy a crib. You’re going to hold a baby in your arms, a baby that will become a toddler, will become a child, will become a teenager, will become an adult. They’re never going to leave again.

I’m pregnant.

One moment - and in it the rest of your life.

It’s a skyscraper, it’s a monument, it’s a mountain. It dwarves you. How can you ever be enough for the path that lies ahead?

The panic jumps you. It rattles you. Suddenly you’re panting, you’re shaking, you can’t think, your head spinning circles around the enormity of it all.

“Oh,” Bradley says. He sounds like he expected you to say just about anything except that. “Congratulations.”

You stare at him, and he backtracks.

“Unless you don’t want me to congratulate you? Sorry, I shouldn’t just….”

“No,” you stop him, your voice a tiny, trembling thing. “It’s okay. Thank you.”

You wonder what it might be like if you were older, if you were married, if you weren’t such a fuck-up. Would people beam at you, hug you, shake your hand? Would they share the joy they must assume you feel?

Neither one of you says anything for a while. Through the opened windows, the sound of the ocean drifts in, of the waves crashing against the shore. The chrome of the fridge you’re leaning against is cold even through the layers of your shirt. You count the wooden tiles on the floor.

After half an eternity, Bradley says, “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

It’s like a knife to the heart, it slices right through you, stabs you between the ribs. And you’re not even angry, don’t even feel betrayed… it just hurts. The kind of pain that stays with you. The kind of pain that leaves phantom traces even after the wounds have healed.

“I don’t,” you say finally.

Beside you, Bradley shifts his weight. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m really putting my foot in it today, aren’t I?”

It’s almost enough to make you laugh. “It’s okay,” you say, even though it isn’t. This whole thing isn’t okay. “I’ll be fine.”

Without hesitating, Bradley says, “I know you will be.”

There’s such conviction in his voice that it baffles you. You stare at him, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“He’s… have you told him, though? Or are you guys not in contact?”

Still trying to recover, you shrug. “Yeah,” you whisper, drawing your shoulders almost all the way up to your ears, “I told him.”

You can tell he wants to ask more, but he gives you a second before his next question. “And you… you guys are gonna try co-parenting? Or is he… are you going to get married?”

That makes you frown. You say, “What is this, the 1950s?”

“I just think….” Bradley clears his throat. “I just think if you get a girl pregnant, you should step up. Take responsibility.”

Of course he’d think that. You’re not even surprised.

There’s always been something traditional about Bradley Bradshaw, like he’s one of those men written by women people rave about all over TikTok. If he takes a girl out on a date, he probably holds open car doors and pulls out chairs for her, hands her his jacket if she gets cold.

Distantly, you wonder what that would be like.

“I don’t want somebody to marry me out of responsibility,” you say. “I can take care of myself.”

Bradley scrambles. “I know that!” he says quickly, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him shift his weight forward, elbows resting on his thighs. “Of course, I know that. I just thought… I just thought you shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

It’s such a simple thing to say, but it almost bowls you over. You turn your head to the side, press your face into your shirt sleeve and dig your fingernails deep into the skin of your shins.

Bradley watches you, eyes intent, and then he probes carefully, “Are you… are you going to keep it?”

You sink your teeth into your lower lip, blink against the sudden dampness. Keep your face turned away from him. The shame of it all, of the situation you’re in, of him seeing you like this, overwhelms you. Your vision blurs.

“I think…” You swallow around the lump in your throat. “I always used to think if I ever got in this situation, I’d just get an abortion but now… I don’t… I just don’t think it’s the right thing for me.”

Slowly, he nods. “You want to have the baby,” he says, and it’s not really a question, but you answer anyway.

“Yes. I mean… I don’t know, it’s just… I want this. I don’t know why or how, but I… it feels like I have to do this.”

“Yeah,” Bradley says, completely sincere. “Your body, your choice.”

Now you do snort. “What, are we at a rally?”

“I follow a few Instagram accounts,” he admits. His voice has gone almost sheepish. “Abortion rights should be everybody’s concern. Nobody’s free until everybody’s free.”

It’s endearing in a strange way because there’s nothing performative about it. It’s just bumbling and awkward and peculiarly genuine.

“You sound like you spend too much time on Twitter,” you say softly, and it makes him laugh. Bradley’s got a nice laugh, one that starts in his belly and seems to end at the back of his throat, punches out into the air from back there.

After things have gone quiet again, the anxiety sets back in. Or maybe it’s been there all along, chomping at the bit, and you just didn’t notice.

“You must think I’m crazy,” you say finally, a self-deprecating chuckle loosening from your throat.

But when you glance up at him from beneath lowered lashes, stomach tight with anticipation, Bradley doesn’t look judgmental at all. Instead, his face is wide open, his eyes clear, the corners of his lips still curled upward with the remnants of his smile.

Luke laughed at you, but Bradley is looking at you with something like admiration, and it takes your breath away.

“No,” he says. “I think you’re really, really brave.”

And then you’re crying again.

You’re surprised there are any tears left in you after your earlier session, but they burst forth now, in a sudden eruption of all the fear and all the pain. And Bradley is so nice. So goddamn kind even though he doesn’t know you, not really, even though this isn’t even his problem. Sits there on the floor of the Hard Deck with you at half past one am on a Sunday night, and doesn’t complain, doesn’t sigh. He just listens.

You don’t feel brave. You feel terrified, you feel overwhelmed, you feel… you feel… you feel like the whole world has toppled over. You feel like Atlas crashing down, buried beneath the weight of his burden. You feel tiny. Inadequate. You feel scared, scared, scared.

“I don’t know what to do,” you confess, choke it out between sobs. Wonder why you’re telling him this. When you don’t know him.

Funny how it is so much easier at times to be honest with strangers than it is to be honest with the people we love the most.

“I’m so… I’m so scared, Bradley.”

He moves as if to touch you, then seems to think better of it and slumps back into himself. The expression on his face is unreadable, his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenched.

“He’s not gonna… the father isn’t going to help you out?”

It makes you realize you never really answered his earlier question. And you don’t know why, can’t explain it rationally, but for some reason, this, too, makes embarrassment well up at the back of your throat.

What is Bradley going to think? The poor, little, stupid girl who got herself knocked up by a guy who won’t even stay? Is that what everybody’s going to think now? Is that all you’ll be?

It’s a life sentence, this whole thing.

You shrug, pause. Shake your head. “No,” you say finally. “He’s not going to be involved.”

You know it’s true. Luke won’t come back, not now, not in ten years, not in twenty. There was something final about that exchange, something permanent. Something that can’t be undone.

Suddenly, you think of that tiny, unborn child inside of you. Abandoned before it ever came into the world.

It’s just you and me now, baby, you think to yourself, and it goes through you like a current, sweeps you under like a wave. We’re all alone. All we have is each other.

“What about your parents? Your dad’s in the Navy, too, right?”

If you could, you’d run away. Fold yourself to invisibility. Slip into the pockets between moments and become something other, something that exists out of sight.

You think of your parents. Floral couches and polished hardwood floors. Tom Cruise on the television as your mother scrubbed every part of the house like she was getting rid of an illness, wiping away a disease, perpetually finding another stain or another cobweb or another wrinkle to smooth over. Think of your father, rigid and strict and absent. Always on some mission, always thinking of a greater good that definitely didn’t involve you, always looking through you even as he looked at you. You don’t know if you have a single memory of him smiling.

You haven’t spoken to them once since you gave up a perfectly fine full-ride scholarship to college.

“My parents,” you say, and as the words spill from you, you realize they’re the truth, “would probably kill me if they found out I got pregnant out of wedlock. Maybe if I were married, they’d give me back my trust fund or something, but… No, I don’t think they’d help me out.”

A muscle in Bradley’s jaw jumps, then he’s looking away. Turning to the side so you’re knee to knee again. You stare at his profile, at the curl of his ears, the cut of his jaw. The jagged edges of his scars blur through the fog of your tears.

“So, how are you… do you have a plan?”

You had one. You had Mojitos and Daiquiris and Cosmopolitans. You had a slew of business classes at a community college. You had a dream and a set of tools to achieve it, and when you close your eyes, you can almost see it right there in front of you.

But now it’s been swept up in a hurricane. Swallowed by a tsunami.

“No,” you admit, and your voice trembles. “I have no idea what to do.”

Bradley’s jaw moves as he chews on his lower lip. He swallows, and his throat unudlates with it, and then he’s shifting, shuffling forward a bit.

“I…” He clears his throat. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looks nervous. “I may have an idea.”

“An idea?” you repeat slowly.

You think he’s going to tell you about some friend who’s looking to hire someone, looking to rent out a very cheap apartment, works at a doctor’s office and is going to treat you for free. Something like that, maybe.

Instead, Bradley takes a deep breath and says, “Marry me.”

It takes a while for the words to register. At first, you think you’ve misheard, then you wonder if maybe the romantic parts of your mind cooked that up. If he even said it at all.

But Bradley is looking at you expectantly, the only indicator of nerves the slightest glimmer in his brown eyes.

And you can’t help yourself. You laugh, even through your tears. It’s a sound that rips from you unconsciously, unstoppably, because surely he’s joking. It’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard.

“Good one,” you say, and wonder just how big of a mess you look like. You wipe at your cheeks, your nose with your sleeves and sniffle once, twice.

Bradley’s lips twitch into the pathetic half of a smile, then he’s serious again, avoiding your eyes.

And that, finally, is when you realize that he isn’t joking at all.

“I…” You pause, mind whirring, head spinning. “What?”

“It’s just….” Bradley shrugs, then explains, “It’s only a suggestion. But you said your family might consider supporting you again if you were married. It might be an option.”

You don’t know what to say. You feel like you’re in a low-budget Hallmark movie.

Bradley pushes on, “It wouldn’t be permanent. We could get a divorce quickie in a year or two, just stay together long enough for you to get settled with the baby and everything. Plus, you’d get free healthcare.” He glances at you, and the blank expression on your face must light a panic in him. Now his words come faster. “I wouldn’t expect anything from you, of course I wouldn’t. It would just be… keeping up appearances. Just for a while….”

Finally, he trails off. The silence stretches between you like a palpable thing, thick and dense like summer heat.

When you were twelve, sitting in the back of the car as your parents argued up front, the woods of Washington flying past in rapid ribbons of black and blue and green, the moon a disk of silver in the sky, a deer ran out into the road. You remember the screeching of the tires as your dad did what you’re not supposed to and brought the car to a sudden, abrupt stillstand. You remember the wide eyes of the animal, the muscles locked in its state of catatonic horror. You remember the flanks rising and falling quickly beneath the matted fur.

For a second, you feel like that deer. Frozen. Caught completely off guard. Vulnerable.

Then you think you might be a little overdramatic.

You say, “What the fuck, Bradley?”

Part of you expects him to backtrack immediately, laugh, and tell you that he was joking after all. But Bradley stands his ground, even as he still won’t look right at you.

“I probably wouldn’t even be home much anyway. I leave for work all the time,” he says, brows drawn into a straight line above his eyes as he stares intently at his thumb rubbing circles into the skin of his arm. “But I could babysit, and then you could go back to work. I really wouldn’t mind. I’m good with kids, you know?”

You’re not entertaining the whole thing, not really, but you can’t help yourself. Your curiosity takes the upper hand.

“Why would you… why would you ever offer this? You barely know me.”

Bradley seems to think about it for a long moment, his face unreadbale. Then finally, he says, “There’d be something in it for me, too, you know? I’ve been meaning to get assigned to North Island permanently, do a relocation. But those spots tend to go to the guys with family, so…” He shrugs, but the gesture seems forced. “I could help you out, you could help me out. Win-win.”

“That’s all?” you ask, and you don’t know why there’s something like disappointment in your voice.

Bradley looks like he wants to say something else, and for a moment his face is vulnerable. But then it shutters again, and he nods. “That’s all.”

For a second, just a second, you let yourself imagine it: Imagine saying yes to this mad, insane, incredible proposal. Imagine marrying Bradley, someone soft and warm and responsible, someone completely opposite to Luke. Imagine him in a tux and you in a white dress, imagine his mustache tickling against your cheek as he leans in to kiss you. You imagine one of the quaint little houses you grew up in, but one that would belong to you, at least for a while. You imagine a toddler running through it, imagine Bradley bending down to scoop them into his arms. You imagine a life without this aching, shifting loneliness. You imagine a life with Bradley.

When you finally shake your head, when you let go of that ghost, it feels like it takes a piece of you with it.

“No,” you say softly, and it breaks you open in ways you can’t describe. “I can’t let you do that, Bradley.”

It’s just too insane. Too far out there. It wouldn’t be fair to him, when you’d be getting so much more out of that arrangement.

And besides. I don’t want someone to marry me out of responsibility. That’s what you told Bradley earlier, and you meant it.

When you do marry, when you walk down that aisle, you want it to be for love. And people can call you delusional, naive, whatever. You don’t care. You just know you want the big thing, the real thing, True Love, capital t, capital l. You want the hurricane of romance, the monsoon of love. You want to fly into it.

Bradley’s quiet for a moment. Then he says, “Okay. But if you… change your mind, yeah? I’ll be here.”

And he means it. Bradley carries his heart on his sleeve, you’ve learned this much. He tries to hide it, but he’s no good at it. Eventually, his emotions always get the better of him, burst forth like fountains. It’s part of his charm.

“What,” you say, “right here on the Hard Deck’s floors?”

It’s a sad attempt at a joke, but Bradley is nice enough to laugh anyway. “Sure thing. You guys have the cleanest floors in all of North Island, did you know that?”

You hum. “Sure. I’m the one who cleans them.”

Finally, you get up off the floor, unfold yourself from the bundle of misery you’ve crumbled into. Your legs ache, your back hurts, your chest still feels hollow. All the crying has left a dull pain pulsating behind your left brow.

The two of you look for Bradley’s wallet together, finally find it over by the pool table. You pretend like you’re not still reeling from his proposal, like it’s not suddenly become impossible to do so much as look at him without your heart flopping around like a fish finding its sad end on dry land.

“Can I give you a ride home?” Bradley asks as he watches you lock up. The Hard Deck has an old lock that gets jammed whenever the slightest bit of dampness creeps into the air. You have to hang onto the doorknob with all your weight while simultaneously turning the key to get it to lock.

“I drove here,” you say, casting your eyes about for the tiny tin can you call your car. You can’t even remember where you parked earlier.

“You okay to drive?” Bradley asks.

You glance at him. With the lights off, the parking lot is almost covered in a thick blanket of darkness. The headlights of a few passing cars winding their path along the coastal highway illuminate patches of gravel now and then. Moonlight spills silver and dim across his shoulders, like fingers caressing him. He looks concerned, examining the state of you.

The truth is that you’re tired. Bone tired. Dead tired. So tired you could probably go to sleep where you stand if you put your mind to it. But you don’t want to bother Bradley anymore, have already stolen enough of his time.

So you’re about to decline, but it seems you hesitated too long.

“I’ll take you home,” Bradley says decidedly, “and you can come get your car tomorrow, okay? I don’t think you should be driving like this.”

“You don’t have to do that, you….”

“I know,” he interrupts you, a smile spreading on his face. “But I’ll feel better knowing you got home safe.”

That makes your insides clench in a way they shouldn’t. Your chest feels tight, and you look away just in case you start crying again.

Is it too soon in your pregnancy to start blaming raging hormones?

Wordlessly, you let Bradley lead you across the parking lot toward his monstrosity of a car. His hand hovers at the small of your back, incredibly close yet never touching. He’s big behind you, bulking, and you try not to think about it. When he opens the door for you and waits until you’re buckled in to close it, you feel like your head’s going to explode.

The ride home is quiet, as is the town around you on this Sunday night. An old Killers song plays on the radio, and you think of deer stepping out into streets, then press your eyes closed and will the thought away.

In Bradley’s car, with the windows rolled down, with the Californian night breeze whipping your hair into your eyes and clearing the fog from your head, for a short, blissful while, nothing seems real. It’s one of those liminal moments, a not-time, when reality feels like a dream and even the sharpest knives don’t cut deep enough to hurt.

It ends quicker than expected because time always goes the fastest when you want it to go slow. Then you’re thanking him, saying goodbye, both of you pretending he didn’t just propose some strange, fake marriage to you behind a bar counter not even thirty minutes ago.

Bradley waits until you’re inside the building before he starts the engine again. You hear the roar of it as you climb the stairs up to the second floor.

In your bedroom, you don’t even bother getting undressed. You just slip under the covers, pull them up over your head, bury in the sticky, stale air beneath them, close your eyes, and fall asleep within seconds.

The first time you told your parents about your bartending dreams, your father yelled at you for forty-five minutes. He hurled words at you that hurt, that left scars, that made you wonder and kept you second-guessing yourself for years, that stayed with you. Your mother didn’t say anything.

Somehow, that was worse.

You call her on the landline at five pm on a Tuesday, just before your dad gets back home, and she answers after the third ring. You’re so sure she’s going to acknowledge the four-year gap in contact, the crumbling of the relationship, the fall-out of screaming and crying, and your dad kicking you out of the house.

What you get, instead, is a ten-minute spiel about who brought what to last week’s church potluck and which laundry detergent your father’s contact allergies don’t act up with.

You’re sitting cross-legged on your bed, your digital alarm clock counting down the time in radioactive green. Outside, you hear the sounds of jets roaring through the sky. In your tiny kitchen unit, the faucet is leaking.

Finally, five minutes into a lecture on the advantages of pre-chopped garlic, you interrupt, “Mom?”

You wonder if she hears the shift in your voice, the slight tremble of it. Something makes her go very quiet on the other end of the line, no sound but her breath.

Drip-drip-drip goes your faucet.

When she doesn’t acknowledge you, you push on, your heart beating a staccato rhythm against your ribcage, “I might… I think I might need some help.”

She doesn’t answer for so long you think you might have lost connection. Then you hear shuffling, imagine her walking through her empty house the way she sometimes does - like a phantom, like a specter.

“With what?” she asks after an eternity.

It’s all you can do to keep yourself from hyperventilating. Years of pain and fear clog up your chest, settle like goosebumps on your skin. You close your eyes and let your head drop back against your pillow.

“I’m pregnant,” you say.

And then you can feel it through the phone, like something physical. What you’ve always known deep down. The disapproval and the disappointment, and the complete lack of understanding.

You’ve never been who your parents wanted you to be, and they’ve always punished you for it like it was a crime.

When your mother says your name, it’s so plain. That she can’t understand what you’re doing, with your cocktails and your late nights. That she doesn’t see why you’d ever choose something like that over a real education and a real job. That she cannot fathom how it could come to this now - you, broke, young, alone, pregnant.

It’s like being five again, trying to get somebody to look at the picture you drew. It’s like being ten again and being overlooked. It’s like being fifteen again, still vying for the attention you’ll never really get.

Your mother is a stubborn woman, set in her ways. She knows what she wants from people, more specifically, what she wants for them. And you’re no exception. Nobody’s ever asked her a question whose answer she couldn’t find in the bible.

More than wanting you to go to college, wanting you to work in an office, your mother has always wanted you to get married. To fit yourself into the picture-perfect stencil of white picket fence and smiling husband she cut herself. For you to let some guy put a ring on you, put a kid in you, buy you a house and a porch swing and a family van.

It’s pathetic, but it doesn’t matter how much time passes. How much older you get. At the end of the day, you still want her approval, just once, even if you have to lie to get it.

So, like a child, like you’re five again, like you’re ten again, like you’re fifteen again, you say, “I’m getting married.”

“Oh?” your mother asks, and there’s so much hope in the one word it hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Yeah,” you confirm, and then the lies just burst out of you, and you hate yourself, hate yourself so much it’s like bile on your tongue, “yeah, we’ve been engaged for a while, and now with the baby and all… It’s been long overdue.”

Your mother almost sounds excited. Sure, she’d probably prefer for you to have been married before getting knocked up, but all of this must still seem better than the last plan you presented to her four years ago. “What’s his name? What’s he do?”

You squeeze your eyes closed. If your mother knew you at all, if you hadn’t spent the past few years not speaking, you’d like to think she would have heard the shame in your voice when you say, “Bradley. He’s a Naval aviator.”

It might be the worst thing you’ve done in your life: Dragging poor, kind Bradley Bradshaw into the mess you’ve made of your life. Nevermind that he offered. It doesn’t matter.

Your mother starts babbling, the way she only does when she’s actually pleased about something. She’s talking about how happy your dad will be that you’re getting married to a fellow army guy, but you barely hear it. Now that you’ve gotten the approval, it doesn’t feel at all like you thought it would.

It just hurts.

For a while, you just let her keep talking as you blink away the tears, as you stare at your bedroom wall, as your mind spins and spins and spins in circles. Then you promise to send her an invite, say your goodbyes, and hang up.

It’s like you’re numb all over. You stay on your bed for another five minutes, and then another, and you feel just as empty as you did after your last conversation with Luke.

What has your life become? How could it crumble as quickly as it did, going from okay to horrible in less than a week?

Even when you weren’t speaking to your parents, you never felt this distant from them, this far removed. A chasm you’ll never be able to breach. An ocean you’re never going to bridge. The only way you’ve ever gotten your mother to be happy with a decision you’ve made is when you lied to her.

The loneliness is everywhere, then. In your chest, in your bed, in your veins. Crawling like a shadow that swallows you whole.

And then the panic sets in, ice cold in your veins, and with it comes the guilt. Your stomach rolls with it.

What have I done? you wonder. What have I done to myself, to Bradley? How will I ever get out of this?

You scramble. Blindly reach for a dress to slip into, for a pair of flip-flops, for your car keys. It’s a miracle you don’t crash on your way to the Hard Deck. Your heart works itself up into a frenzy, and the guilt gnaws at you, slashes at you, paws at you. All these emotions are tearing you apart.

In the back, Bradley and Bob are playing Pacman on one of the retro machines. They’re pretty loud, too, and from what you gather in your mad dash through your workplace, Bradley seems to be disproportionally competitive about the whole thing.

Figures. Nobody gets into Top Gun without a cutthroat streak and a mean penchant for ambition.

“Bradley,” you say, and when he looks up, his eyes sparkling, the smile slides right off his face. “Can I talk to you?”

He seems stunned for a second, then nods and deposits his beer on a nearby table. “Sure thing.”

You lead him out the back. Out of the corner of your eyes, you spot the exact corner you huddled in a few days back, agonizing over the positive pregnancy test, the decline of your life, the decay of your dreams. Don’t look, you tell yourself, and then do it anyway.

The sun hasn’t set yet, but twilight is descending on the world rapidly. Everything is washed into soft pastels, the sand and the last surfers shaking salt water from their hair. Bradley’s shirt and the honey gold of his skin.

You can’t look at him. It’s a shame that grows in the pit of your stomach, that settles there, heavy like a stone. How can you do this to him?

You’ve never felt worse about yourself, and still… The fear is too big.

Since you decided to give up on the scholarship, since you walked out of your parents house four years ago, you’ve been on your own. You’ve been footing your own bills and renting your own apartment and paying for insurance on your car. You were alone the time you got a cold so bad you couldn’t get out of bed for two days. You were alone when your tire popped on the highway and you almost hit another car. You were alone when you got rejection after rejection from the big San Diego bars, the ones that end up featured on TV and in magazines.

And that was fine. You’re strong, you know you are. Any issue that came your way, you managed to figure out eventually. You’ve been doing fine without any help.

But this, here, now. This… You just can’t do it on your own. Not when it’s about a baby. Your baby.

So you take a deep breath and ask, “Is the offer still on the table?”

Bradley exhales. You watch as he takes a step closer to you, as his shoes move in the field of your vision, grains of sand crunching beneath the soles. When he speaks, a cadence of insecurity has snuck into his voice, “The marriage?”

You nod because you can’t say it. Your mouth just won’t form the words.

“If…” Bradley clears his throat. “If you want it… yeah.”

When you look up at him, there’s something strange on his face. Something that looks less like surprise and more like awe.

His eyes are so brown, and your heart beats so fast, and you’re dizzy like you just got off a rollercoaster.

“I…” You pause to collect your thoughts, and then you rush it all out at once, scared that if you don’t say it now, you never will. “If I were to say yes, like, hypothetically… I’d need to know that you’re not just doing it for me. That there’s something in it for you, too, so….”

He’s nodding before you’ve finished. “I told you. I wanna stay here. I’m sick of getting sent around the country all the time, so… It’s good. It’s an opportunity.”

An opportunity. That sounds like business, sounds like a transaction, sounds rational and level-headed and reasonable, and you latch onto the idea. Maybe if you try to take the emotion out of the equation, it’ll be easier.

Bradley seems relaxed about the whole thing, much more relaxed than he should be given the absurdity of the situation, but you feel like you need to make things clear anyway, if only to put yourself at ease. That’s what people do before singing contracts, right? Put all the cards out on the table?

So you go on, “And I wouldn’t, like… Like you’d still get to do anything you want. I wouldn’t expect you to help with the baby or anything. And you could keep dating, of course, you could, I won’t mind. I promise. It’d just be for show, right?”

Bradley hesitates, and for a second, you think he’s going to say something. But then he just shrugs, nods, says, “That’s fine. Yeah. Whatever you want.”

For a moment, you both just look at each other.

“This is insane,” you say because it is, and you don’t know what else to say.

And Bradley just chuckles and agrees smoothly, “Yeah, it’s nuts, isn’t it?”

As you look at him, here in this pastel lighting, here on the verge of something monumental, there’s something so reassuring about him. Something so steady and reliable and constant. Something that makes you think, with him, maybe it could be okay, no matter how insane the whole idea is. An opportunity. An investment that just might pay off.

North star, you remind yourself. Bradley Bradshaw is the North Star.

At the very least, you won’t be alone.

“So is that….” Bradley shifts, scratches the back of his neck. “You saying yes, then?”

There’s a lump in your throat like you’ve swallowed a pebble. It almost chokes you.

“Yeah,” you agree finally, and can’t believe you’re saying this, doing this, can’t believe you’re this mad and this selfish and this desperate. “I guess I am.”

It’s awkward after that. You both just stand there, you with your arms around your own ribcage, Bradley with his thumbs hooked into his belt loops. Space and silence stretches far and gaping and glaring between you.

Then he says, “Can I hug you?”

That’s sort of the last thing you expected him to say.

You blink at him. “Uhm… sure?”

When Bradley pulls you into his arms, when he holds you against his chest loosely, carefully, giving you room to pull away at any moment, the whole thing almost bowls you over. It’s the first time anybody’s hugged you since you found out you’re pregnant, since your entire world came crashing down, and you can’t help yourself. It’s a visceral reaction. You cling to him, wrap your arms around his neck, press your face into his shoulder and your chest against his and squeeze your eyes shut, and stay there for longer than you planned to, longer than you should. Let him hold you tight enough that for a moment, for a while, it almost feels like you’re whole again. Like you’re not alone.

For the first time in a week, for the first time since that positive test, things feel real. You feel real. Only with his hands on you. The thoughts that have been echoing through your head constantly, loud enough to drown out everything else, quiet.

You could get addicted to it, could get greedy and selfish and never-satisfied. Could eat it raw.

Bradley smells like sunscreen and sandalwood. You try to commit that scent to memory, try to ingrain it into your brain and your body. Something to remember the next time the loneliness sets in.

Finally, he pulls away, and his smile is gentle. You feel every inch of separation like an ache in your bones, like an echo, like a reverberation.

You can’t cry again. You’ve been doing it so much recently that you just won’t allow it again. If you’re going to do this, if you’re going to be a mother and a wife, in whatever capacity, you’ll have to be strong. No matter how hard that will be.

“I don’t even have a ring for you,” Bradley says, a frown etching itself into his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” You’re shaking your head quickly, vehemently. “No, Bradley, that’s fine, you don’t need to….”

“I think you should have something, though. I want to give you something,” he interrupts you. “I just don’t know….”

And then he seems to think of something. The epiphany is practically written all over his face, and for a moment, he looks so much younger. Rosy cheeks and all.

Bradley reaches into his wifebeater and pulls his dog tags from beneath the fabric. Before you know what’s happening, he’s tugging the thin silver chain down over your head, moving your hair out of the way carefully. It settles against the skin of your neck, warmed by his body heat.

You stare down at the metal dangling over your dress, the letters of his name etched into it. Bradley Bradshaw.

Your heart seizes.

When you were younger, much younger, you used to dream of this. You used to imagine what being proposed to would feel like, what it would be like. A fancy restaurant, an expensive glass of champagne, and a diamond ring at the bottom of the flute. Something flashy, something extravagant, something beautiful. The man in your fantasy was faceless at first, and then he looked like Robert Pattinson, and then he looked like your first crush, and then he went back to being faceless again.

He never had a mustache. He was never a stranger. Your dreams were never this: Rushed and fake and no ring at all. You, pregnant with somebody else’s baby, and Bradley, marrying you to get assigned to a base of his choosing. None of it real. No True Love, no capital t, no capital l. Not even lowercase. Nothing but madness and guilt and business between you.

And still you want it, want it so bad it swells inside you, pushes against your ribcage with enough pressure to crack bones - you want to be wanted.

You wonder what Bradley dreamed of. Not you, probably. So much younger than him, so naive, so gullible, falling for married men and getting yourself into situations you can’t climb out of yourself. Making him do this when he deserves better, more, deserves something true and real.

It makes you sick to your stomach. It makes you want to cry. It makes you want to ask Bradley to hug you again, so you can forget, just for another second, just for another moment.

Instead, you say, voice barely a whisper, “Thank you.”

Bradley shakes his head. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says, and he sounds so genuine you have to avert your eyes. “We’re friends, right?”

Friends. This man you barely know. This man who is doing something unfathomable for you.

“Yeah,” you agree softly. “Friends.”

And then later, in the bar, as Bradley’s friends discuss some new Star Wars show you haven’t seen, as they order round after round of beer you can’t drink, as the sky goes from pastels to blues to blacks, you’ll pretend you don’t see Natasha staring at the dog tags around your neck, pretend you don’t wish you could hold Bradley’s hand, pretend you don’t feel like you’re falling apart, like you’re capsizing where you sit, like you're kicking water miles and miles and miles below the surface.

Beneath the table, you put a hand on your stomach, fingers spreading out, close your eyes, and let the current drag you under.

part 2

#rooster #bradley bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun imagine #mine #f:blph

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tonyspank · 9 months

Text

CHAPTER EIGHT | GET ME

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, threesome, idk what else

Words: 5.8k

A/N: i dont know what to say

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter | drabble 1

"Hey, Olivia! Wait up." Eli says, jogging to the girl's side as she walks to her next class. Olivia smiled and slowed her pace. "What's up?" she asked, confused by the fact Eli was approaching her as it's normally the other way around. Eli hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I was wondering if you're okay... I haven't really talked to you in a while."

Olivia looks around, letting out a, "Um..." Eli twists his lips, adjusting his bookbag straps. Olivia sighed. "I'm alright," she said, before giving Eli a small smile. "I've just been thinking about how one-sided everything was, you know?" Eli didn't need any other clues about what Olivia was talking about. It was obvious she was talking about you.

"I just find it immature and rude about how she couldn't have said something earlier. It's like she was trying to make me feel unwanted," Olivia continued. Eli nodded in a frown apparent on his face, "I'm sorry, Liv."

"It's alright," Olivia said. "I just wish she had been honest with me from the start. That would have been the mature thing to do." Eli nodded in agreement. He knew he couldn't change the situation, but he wanted to do something to help.

"Let me take you out for some ice cream. What do you say?" Olivia smiled, her bright eyes twinkling in the light. "Um...sure. I guess." She says, breathing out a small laugh.

Eli laughs as well, his face heating up from the sound she made. "Here, let me walk you to class." He held out his hand, and Olivia took it, a smile blooming on her face. He smiled back, feeling a warmth in his chest that he hadn't felt in a long time. They slowly made their way to class, content in the silence between them.

You and Eli were now at practice, doing a 1v1 drill your coach had suggested for the two of you. You take a step back, pump-faking before shooting the shot, which goes in successfully. Eli's face is blank and you're a bit concerned, he hasn't said anything this entire practice. You hand him the ball, a furrow in your brows. "E, what's wrong?"

Eli sighs, avoiding your gaze. "Why haven't you talked to Olivia yet?" He finally looks up, his expression softening. "That's pretty fucked up man. She was like for real sad about what's been going on between you two."

You look down, feeling ashamed. "I know, I just don't know what to say," you mumble. Eli looks at you sympathetically and says, "It's ok, just be honest with her. She deserves that much." You take a deep breath and nod, getting into position to guard Eli.

He looks at you for a few seconds before dribbling the ball. "I'll talk to her tomorrow." You say as Eli shoots it, swishing the shot. "No, talk to her today. You keep delaying it and never end up doing it." He grabs the rebound, standing in front of you.

You grab the ball from him, shrugging him off and walking behind the three-point line. You run to the paint for a layup but Eli blocks it, staring you down the entire time. "I'm being serious, Y/N."

You take a step back and feel your blood starting to rise. "I said I will." He stares at you, "And I said do it today. Not tomorrow." You scoff at his word choices and tone, "Why are you acting like my father?"

He narrows his eyes and steps closer. "And why are you acting like an asshole? How fucking hard is it to say two words?" You don't answer, you just turn and leave the gym, grabbing your bag as you exit. He doesn't call after you, and you don't look back, but you can feel his eyes on your back until you're out of sight.

You head home feeling frustrated and angry. You arrive home and sit on the couch, still replaying the scene in your head. You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. You know he was right, but you're still angry.

"You okay?" You hear Jenna ask, walking into the living room. You take another deep breath and nod. "Yeah, I'll be okay," you say, forcing a smile. Jenna places a hand on your shoulder, leaning down and placing a quick kiss on your lips.

She squeezes your shoulder and stands up, a smile on her face. "Jenna! What if Jacob walked in here," you whisper yell, looking to see if he was present or not. Jenna just chuckles and shakes her head, rolling her eyes. "Jacob is on a Zoom call for some meeting." You relax, a small smile forming on your lips.

You pull Jenna down, bringing her into a more intense kiss. Jenna wraps her arms around your neck, the two of you melting into each other. You pull away, breathless, and look into each other's eyes, smiling as your hearts beat fast. "Emma invited us to her place."

You hum, scanning her outfit. "Is that why you're wearing this yellow dress?" Jenna blushes, her cheeks turning a light pink. "Yes," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I hoped you'd like it."

Your hands reach out and take her hands in yours. "I love it," you say, smiling. "It's beautiful, just like you." Jenna's cheeks turn even pinker, and a smile spreads across her face. She looks up at you, her eyes shining with joy. You lean in and kiss her softly. "Let me just shower then we can go."

She nods and you hurry off to the bathroom. You quickly get cleaned up and head back out to the living room, where Jenna is waiting. You both smile at each other and head out the door, hand-in-hand, ready for a night of fun and adventure.

When you arrived at Emma's house you were greeted with a hug and smile, and you both head inside. Emma's outfit was stunning and you could tell she was excited to spend time with you. You all settled into the living room. Emma pours three glasses of her favorite wine.

You furrow your eyebrows as she hands you one. "I'm underage." Emma laughs giving you a wink. "Don't worry, I won't tell," she said. You smile and take a sip, feeling the warmth of the wine as it ran down your throat.

Jenna smiles at you through her glass, her eyes twinkling with amusement. That's when you felt the tension in the room. It felt like you were left out of something. You look back and forth between her and Emma, trying to figure out what was going on. Jenna places down her glass as Emma turns down the music that's been playing for a short period of time.

Emma clears her throat and begins to speak. "Do you like your wine?" she says, a smile creeping across her face. "Mhm, it's pretty good. I haven't had it before." Emma and Jenna exchange a knowing glance and Jenna smiles standing up from the other couch.

Jenna walks over to you and sits down beside you, pressing a kiss onto your neck. She takes the glass of wine from your hand, setting it aside. She reaches up, gently cupping your face in her hands, and bringing your lips to hers. The two of them kiss tenderly, the taste of the wine still on your tongues.

You pull away glancing at Emma who smiles in response, walking over to sit down on the opposite side of you. Jenna leans into your ear, whispering. "Emma and I wanna share you. Are you up for that?" You feel a rush of excitement at the thought of having both Emma and Jenna's attention. You turn to Jenna and give a nod, and they both break into wide grins.

Jenna and Emma exchange a glance before Jenna leans in closer and lightly kisses your cheek. You blush in response while Emma places a few kisses on your neck. You close your eyes and savor the moment, enjoying the warmth of their affection.

Emma runs her fingers through your hair, sending a shiver down your spine. Jenna's hand begins unbuttoning your shirt, while Emma's hand slides up your thigh. You can barely contain your excitement as their touch sends sparks through your body. They lean away from you, facing each other before their lips meet in a passionate embrace.

They break away, exchanging a look of desire, before turning back to you. "Let's move to my room," Emma says, standing up from the couch. You nod eagerly, standing up and following them. Your heart races as you make your way to the bedroom, anticipation coursing through your veins. You can hardly believe what's about to happen and Jenna was so okay with the idea.

You enter the room, the door closing behind you. You look around, taking in the sight of the bedroom before finally turning back to Emma and Jenna. You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you take the first step forward. "Why are you being so shy?" Jenna teases, a small smile on her lips. You furrow your eyebrows, your own lips curving up. "Um...I'm not shy."

Jenna laughed, her smile widening. Emma stepped forward and put her hand on your shoulder. "We know you're not shy. Let's just have some fun, okay?" She said and you nodded, finally feeling a little more relaxed.

You take off all your in a rush, almost falling over before your hands reach out to the women in front of you, undressing them with ease. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, but you pushed your fear aside and embraced the moment.

You carefully removed the last piece of clothing and stepped away to admire your work. They both giggles, turning around and teasing you as they finally stood naked in front of you.

You smiled and admired their beauty, crouching down in front of their asses. "I don't even know where to begin..." Jenna giggles, biting her lip. "You should see Emma's face right now. She's basically begging for it." She turns to Emma, giving her a wink. Emma blushes, her heart racing. She can feel the anticipation building up inside her.

You place a hand on Emma's hip, licking her wetness from behind. Emma gasps in pleasure as you start flicking your tongue around wildly. You can feel Emma's body trembling as you keep licking her.

Her muscles start tensing up and her breathing becomes heavier. Emma lets out a loud moan of pleasure as you continue to pleasure her while Jenna smiles at her reaction, finding this a bit too interesting.

Emma is now on the edge, unable to take any more pleasure as you continue to lick her. Suddenly, she comes in a powerful wave of pleasure. "Shit! I'm cumming!" Jenna watches as Emma breathes heavily, enjoying the afterglow of her orgasm. Jenna smiles, feeling proud of you for making Emma come. "Good job, baby. Emma has never had an orgasm from just oral before."

You smile, feeling satisfied with yourself. Emma looks behind at you with a satisfied expression, her eyes twinkling. While Jenna shakes her ass in your face, "Let's see if you can go two for two." You let out a small laugh before placing both your hands on Jenna's ass, spreading them apart before you slip your tongue inside her, feeling her wetness as she lets out a pleasured moan.

You slide your hands around her hips and pull her closer as you keep thrusting your tongue inside of her. Emma places a hand on Jenna's stomach, watching her reaction. Jenna's eyes are shut tight, her mouth agape. Jenna's breathing is becoming labored as she lets out a moan. "Y/N..."

"You heard that? She likes it, Y/N. Keep going." Emma smiles, her face alight with pleasure as she watches Jenna. Your hands slide up across Jenna's body, eliciting more moans from the woman in your arms. Emma takes a step back, watching as Jenna bites down on her lip, balling her fist up.

Jenna's body trembles as you keep going, the pleasure so intense that it's almost too much for her. She lets out a long, loud moan as you reach the peak, and her body is wracked with pleasure. "Fuckkkkk!"

Jenna collapses into your arms, her body still trembling with pleasure. You hold her close, the two of you basking in the afterglow. Emma looks on, a satisfied smirk on her face. Jenna pulls away, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. She looks into your eyes and plants a gentle kiss on your lips. You feel a warmth in your chest, a feeling of contentment and joy. Emma smiles at the two of you, her eyes sparkling with delight.

"Two for two!" You laugh a goofy smile on your lips. Jenna playfully rolls her eyes, lifting herself up from you. "Have you ever gotten a rimjob?" You shake your head at Emma's question. Emma laughs, winking at Jenna. "No one has eaten my chocolate dropper." You tell Emma and Jenna's face scrunches up in response.

Jenna and Emma laugh, with Emma lightly punching you in the arm. "You're outrageous," Jenna says, shaking her head. The girls both drop to their knees, Emma behind you and Jenna in front of you.

Jenna grabs your dick, stroking you a bit, holding eye contact. Emma slides her hands down your back before, grabbing a hold of your ass. Jenna starts to move her hand faster, causing you to moan in pleasure. "That feels so good, Jen."

Emma takes the opportunity to stick her tongue into your rear end, causing you to gasp in surprise. "Woah!" Jenna laughs at your reaction. "How is it?" You shake your head, trying to think of the right words. "It's...something. It's not bad!"

Jenna giggles before taking you into her mouth. You feel a wave of pleasure rush through your body as Jenna begins bopping her head, almost taking all of you into her mouth.

You can feel Emma's tongue lapping against your bottom and a moan escapes your lips as Jenna increases her tempo. All too soon, Jenna pulls away, leaving you panting and wanting more. She looks up at you with a satisfied smirk and you know that you'll never forget this moment. You take a few moments to recover, before turning to Emma with a smile. "That was something else."

Emma just laughs as Jenna says, "Get on the bed." You eagerly hop onto the bed, lying on your back. Emma and Jenna join you on the bed, arching their backs as their mouth makes its way to your penis.

Emma and Jenna take turns licking your penis with their tongues, teasing your most sensitive parts. They move their mouths up and down the length of your shaft, letting their tongues swirl around the head of your penis. "Shit," You grab the sheet under you, unable to contain your pleasure.

They pull away and Jenna holds you by your balls. "I wanna see you suck her off." She says to Emma. Emma takes you into her mouth, sucking hard on your cock as Jenna watches. Jenna's eyes light up with pleasure as she watches Emma pleasure you.

She takes her hand and guides Emma's head, pushing her down further onto your shaft. You moan in pleasure as Emma moves faster, her lips feeling like silk against your skin.

Jenna can't take her eyes off the sight, her breathing fast and shallow. "I'm so close, shit." You whisper. Jenna smirks at this as Emma lets you go, smiling herself.

"You guys are too much," You mumble out, sitting up on the bed. Jenna laughs, her eyes sparkling. She moves closer to you, her hand tenderly brushing your cheek. "What are you waiting for?" She says, her voice low and quiet. "Come fuck me."

You take her in your arms, and your kiss is full of longing and desire. You lay Jenna on her back and Emma grabs her legs, holding them for her as you enter the brown-haired woman.

You thrust into her slowly, savoring the sensation of being connected to her. Jenna gasps groping herself as her mouth falls open. "Fuck, baby. You're so deep!" You keep thrusting, feeling a wave of pleasure building up inside you.

Emma's blue eyes stare at you, filled with desire. You quicken your pace as your desire intensifies, and you can feel Jenna's body trembling beneath you. Jenna's head throws back in elation, "I'm cumming!"

You let out a deep moan as you watch her cum, as her body shudders with pleasure. Emma wraps a hand around your neck, and you kiss her passionately. Jenna bites her lip at you both, smiling.

You pull away, both of you breathless. You pull out of Jenna with a deep groan before Emma places herself between Jenna's legs. Emma's tongue begins to work its magic as she arches her back into you. Jenna moans and her hips move in rhythm with Emma's motions. You slip inside the woman in front of you, keeping eye contact with Jenna the entire time.

You start thrusting in tandem with Emma, and soon all three of you are caught in a passionate frenzy of pleasure. Jenna's breath comes in gasps and Emma's moans fill the room. "It's so hot watching you fuck her," Jenna gasps out, a loud moaning following.

Jenna's body vibrates as she reaches another climax, Emma following right behind her. Emma collapses against Jenna and you pull out and lay down next to them, all of you panting and sweaty. "You're not tapping out already are you?" Jenna asks teasingly. You immediately shake your head. "Of course...not!" You pant, breathless.

Emma smiles, "I thought you played basketball? Your stamina is pretty shitty." You laugh and sit up, leaning on your arms. "Hey, I'll have you know I'm an unstoppable force on the court!" You reply, grinning. Jenna laughs and rolls her eyes, "Sure you are, champ!"

Jenna brings you into a heated kiss, pressing her body against yours and deepening the kiss. You wrap your arms around her waist and hold her close. Eventually, you break apart, and you both look into each others eyes, both with silly grins on your faces. "Let's prove it," you say, lifting her up on top of you so she can straddle you.

You smile, "I did earlier." Emma shakes her head, laughing. "That was nothing." In sync Jenna lowers herself onto you as Emma sits on your face, facing Jenna. You let out a groan as you feel the two of them on top of you.

The sensation of them both pressed against you is overwhelming. Emma starts to move her hips in a slow circle, pushing her warmth against your face. While Jenna begins rocking her hips, your eyes close and you are lost in the pleasure of the moment. Emma moans and Jenna giggles as the sensations take over.

"She's twitching so much Emma," Jenna giggles, biting down on her lip as she raises her hips. Emma grins and nods as Jenna's hips start to move faster. Your breathing becomes more labored as Jenna's hips continue to move in circles, spelling out a word.

Jenna mumbles something incoherent as she groans out in pleasure, her body shaking as the word is spelled out completely. Emma looks up at you Jenna with a smile, bringing her best friend into a kiss.

Jenna's eyes flutter open as she looks at Emma with a lazy smile, her cheeks flushed. Emma's body starts to shake and soon she lets out a loud moan, a liquid coating your face. Jenna's eyes close again as Emma's body relaxes, a satisfied smile gracing her lips. They remain still for a moment, enjoying the moment of peace and pleasure, before getting up and lying down again. "Cum on our faces, Y/N."

You sit up on your knees, kneeling above the women under you as you stroke yourself, bringing yourself closer to an orgasm. You cry out as you come, your pleasure spilling over the two beautiful women beneath you. They both look up, eyes gleaming in satisfaction, as you lay down between them, letting out a chuckle. "Best. Day. Ever."

They laugh before getting up to clean themselves off, "Guys." You say after them, and they both hum in response. "Let's not tell Eli about this. I think he'll actually murder me." They both nod, agreeing to keep this a secret.

It's been a couple of days since your secret happened, and you were chasing after Olivia in hopes to give her an apology. "Olivia!" You call after the girl. She turns around at the sound of your voice. She smiles and walks back to you. You send her a sad smile, "I just wanted to apologize for um, being childish and not communicating with you about my feelings and intentions." Olivia nods in understanding and reaches out to give you a hug.

You hug back tightly and feel a sense of relief wash over you. "It's okay. I appreciate you for apologizing, I've gotten over it though. I hope we can still be friends." You smile and nod. "Me too, I'd like that." You hug again and then part ways. Olivia waves goodbye and you watch her walk away, feeling a weight of guilt being lifted off your shoulders.

Time to get home.

Meanwhile, Jenna was asleep in bed. She had felt extremely tired this morning so you took the bus to school. Jacob was unaware of her tiredness and he had just gotten off the phone with his boss. Jacob had been given a work assignment that was due at the end of the day, but he wanted to spend some time with his fiancée before he stressed himself out about work.

He crawls into the bed, pressing a kiss onto Jenna's forehead. Jenna stirs, her eyes fluttering open. Jacob smiles and leans down, pressing a kiss on her lips, but before their lips meet Jenna places a hand on his chest, pushing him back.

She looks up at him, her eyes still heavy with sleep. "Good morning," she says, her voice still thick with sleep. Jacob just smiles, leaning in for another kiss. She turns her hand, covering her mouth as she yawns.

"Why do you keep ducking my kisses?" Jacob laughs. He straddles the girl, smiling. "I'm in the mood and I miss you." She shakes her head, "I'm not in the mood, sorry Jacob." He sighs and sits up, looking away. "I understand, but it just seems like you're never in the mood. We haven't seen each other in months." She sits up in the bed. "I'm just tired."

Jacob caresses her face and gently kisses her forehead. "What's wrong?" She takes a deep breath and tears begin forming in her eyes. She turns away and begins crying. Jacob wraps his arms around her, holding her close. "It's ok, I'm here for you. You can tell me anything."

She takes another deep breath, "Jacob...I think I'm pregnant." Jacob sits in shock before pulling away from her. His mouth starts forming a wide smile. He looks into her eyes and says, "This is the best news I've ever heard. We're going to be parents." She looks up at him, her eyes still filled with tears. Jacob gently takes her face in his hands and wipes away her tears. "I'm going to be a dad!"

He stares at Jenna, noticing the sad look in her eyes. And that's when the realization hits. His happy face turns into shock and then anger. He lets go of her and takes a step back. "What have you done?" he says in a stern voice. "You—You really cheated on me?!"

Jenna starts to cry, and she hangs her head in shame. "I'm sorry," she whispers. He shakes his head in disbelief. "I can't fucking believe you!"

You walk through the front door, bopping your head as your headphones blast at full volume, unaware of the argument going on upstairs. Jenna looks up at him, tears streaming down her face. She quickly gets up from the bed rushing downstairs. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" Jacob yells after her, following her downstairs.

Jenna ignores him, rushing to the kitchen looking for her keys. She grabs her keys and turns to face him. "I'm leaving," she says, her voice shaking. "I cheated on you, Jacob. It's clear we're not happy anymore." Jacob stares at her, stunned. He's speechless as she turns away, but stops her, harshly grabbing her wrist.

"Let me go," Jenna says, her voice barely a whisper. He stares into her eyes, his grip tightening. "I won't let you go," he says. "I won't let you leave me like this."

Jenna struggles to break free, but his grip is too tight. She looks into his eyes, pleading for him to let her go. His face softens and he lets her go, "Jenna, please."

A hand runs through his hair. "I don't care if you cheated! I love you, okay? Stay with me, please? I came here so we could fix things, didn't I? So, let's fix it!" She stepped closer, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling. "I don't love you anymore. This isn't healthy Jacob."

Jacob's face fell, his eyes widening in disbelief. He stepped away, the hurt evident in his expression. "But I thought... I thought you said you still loved me." She shook her head sadly. "I did, but things have changed. I can't do this anymore." She goes to turn away, but Jacob stops her, dropping to his knees.

He reaches for her hand, begging her to stay. "Please, I can't bear to lose you. I love you too much." She looks down at him, her face softens, and then she shakes her head. "It's over, Jacob. I'm sorry." His hand drops to his side. He stares up at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and acceptance. You walk into the kitchen, slowly taking off your headphones. Jacob slowly stands up, turning his head to you.

You look between the two, not knowing what to say. Jacob quickly wipes his face as Jenna makes her way toward you, rubbing a hand on your forearm. "I have to tell you something," Jenna whispers to you, her voice trembling. You can feel her body shaking as she holds onto your arm. "Jenna, what's wrong?" You ask, staring into her brown eyes before looking at Jacob.

Jacob shakes his head, sighing as he rubs his temples. Jenna takes a deep breath and looks away, unable to meet your gaze. "I'm pregnant," she whispers, before burying her face in your shoulder, her body heaving with sobs. You hold her close, unsure of what to say.

You feel her pain and her fear, and you know that everything is going to change. You take a deep breath and whisper "We'll get through this, together."

Jenna nods against your chest, tears still streaming down her face. You gently stroke her hair, letting her know you'll help her along the way, every second. Jacob stares at the two of you, his heart basically shattering.

"It's you..." he mumbles, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Jenna looks up at Jacob with a teary smile. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Jacob...I'm so sorry." Jacob shakes his head, her temper beginning to rise. Jacob steps back and looks away.

"What happens when she decides you're too much for her and she wants her youth back, huh? You're just creating another you... Making her settle down so young just to end up unhappy. That's supposedly what happened to you, right? What happens when her parents find out?" He says, his voice low and soft, but obviously filled with confusion and anger.

She bites her lip, tears forming in her eyes. "That won't happen," she says firmly. "I love her and I'm not going anywhere." Jacob scoffs, "Jenna you let an eighteen-year-old get you pregnant! She's still in high school!"

Jenna glares at him. "That doesn't matter. We can make this work, I know we can." Jacob shakes his head. "You're delusional." He turns away, unable to watch or listen anymore. Jenna takes a deep breath and watches Jacob leave.

Jacob slams the door, not even going upstairs for his things. You stand there a bit before turning back to Jenna, wiping the tears from her eyes. Jenna takes a few moments to compose herself before turning to you. "I'm sorry for that," she says with a sad smile. You shake your head, your mind on one thing only.

"When did you find out?" Jenna looks away, her voice shaking. "Yesterday," she whispers. "I just didn't know how to tell you." You pull her into a hug, rubbing her back softly. "I'm still shocked we're pregnant."

Jenna looks up at you, a mixture of joy and fear on her face. You kiss her forehead, reassuring her that you are both going to be ok. She takes a deep breath and smiles, knowing that you are in this together.

Here you were, back at your dining room table, except it wasn't as full as it was last time. You, Jenna, Eli, and your parents surrounded it. You told your parents to come home early due to an emergency, and Eli had come over as well due to the fact you texted him an SOS.

You all looked at each other, not quite sure what to say. The only sound was the ticking of the clock, the only movement was the occasional shifting in a chair. Finally, Jenna spoke up, breaking the silence.

"I have some news..." Your eyes glance at Jenna before staring at your parents. There's no way she's not going to ease her way into this? "Me and Jacob have split." Your parents' eyes widened in surprise, unsure of what to say. There was a moment of stunned silence.

Your mom was the first one to speak, "Oh honey, I'm so sorry." Your dad cleared his throat, grabbing Jenna's hand. Jenna gave your dad's hand a gentle squeeze before speaking up, "It'll be alright, I wasn't happy anyway."

Eli mumbles something only you can hear, "Good riddance." You look at Eli, shaking your head at him. You turn away from Eli, not wanting to see the smug look on his face. You take a deep breath and look around the room, feeling the tension in the air.

You can see the worry and sadness on your parent's faces, and you know that worry is going to change into confusion and anger once Jenna tells them you got her pregnant.

You take a deep breath and try to prepare for the inevitable storm that's coming. You know this situation will change everything and you're not sure if it will be for the better. "Are you okay?" Your dad asks, his eyebrows pushed together. Jenna nods, "Yeah. I'm fine. Y/N has been there for me."

Jenna gives your dad a reassuring smile as your mom sends you a tight-lipped smile in appreciation, you nod back at her, but your heart is racing. "We uh, actually have something to tell you." Jenna's gaze drops to her hand that's engulfed in your dad's, biting her lip.

Your dad glances at your mom confused, smiling. "What is it?" Eli's eyes widen as he realizes what Jenna's about to admit. "Y/N and I are... um... we're dating." Jenna smiles nervously, awaiting his response. Your parents exchange looks before your dad speaks. "Well, that's unexpected," he says with a chuckle. "Ummmm..." Your mom says, letting out her own laugh.

"But if you two are happy, then that's all that matters," your dad continues. Your mom nods in agreement, a smile on her face. "It's unexpected, but if you guys take it slow, then we can support you both." They exchange a glance and you can tell that they are both in agreement. You scratch your nose, "We have more news too..."

Your parents look at each other, a mix of surprise and anticipation in their eyes. "What is it?" your mom asks. You take a deep breath and tell them the rest. "Jenna is... Jenna's pregnant, and I'm the parent."

They both looked stunned. "What are you going to do?" your dad asked. You took a deep breath and said, "We'll figure it out together." Your mom shakes her head, "Honey. Listen to me, you're in high school, okay? You have many more years to have a baby! Right now you need to focus on basketball and your education."

You looked at them both and sighed. "I know," you said. "But we're going to keep it." Your dad nodded his head, not knowing what else to say. But your mom finds the words for him, "What are you going to do? Drop out of school?" You shook your head. "No, I'm going to find a way to make it work."

Jenna places a hand on your thigh. " We'll figure it out together, don't worry." You smiled at her, grateful for her support. You looked at your parents, determined to make it through this. "I'm taking responsibility guys." Jenna squeezed your thigh, nodding in agreement. Your parents shared a look before they both sighed in relief.

Your dad stands up, his chair screeching against the tile. "I need a quick breather." Your mom watches him walk away, frowning at you. "Y/N, we worked hard so you could be the opposite of us. We wanted you to go big places with your opportunities." She sighed and shook her head. "I just want you to remember that." She turns around, following your dad.

You glance at Eli, completely forgetting he was here. He's been staring at the two of you with a blank face, not moving a muscle. You feel a lump in your throat, and you don't know why you're feeling so emotional.

Eli quickly gets up wrapping his hands around your throat playfully, shaking your body. He laughs, and you can't help but laugh too. You hug him tightly, grateful for his presence. "I'm going to be an uncle!"

You smile and look into Eli's eyes, seeing the joy that has been missing for so long. He smiles back, and you know that things will be alright. You also know Eli would be the perfect uncle to your child.

"Have you thought of names?" Eli's face lights up and he starts listing off names he likes. You can't help but smile. Jenna playfully rolls her eyes at your best friend, calming herself down from the conversation she just had with your parents. "But like really! Kian is a cute name. It means king or like the grace of god." You furrow your eyebrows, "What if it's a girl?"

"Kia! Duh!" Jenna starts to laugh. Eli joins in, and soon the three of you are in an uncontrollable fit of laughter. You can't help but appreciate the silly moment, and you feel your worries start to fade away.

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