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sushiwriterhere · 11 months

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new rules

summary: "Don’t pick up the phone, he’s only calling because he’s drunk and alone. Don’t let him in, you’ll have to kick him out again. Don’t be his friend, you know he’s going to wake up in your bed in the morning. If you’re under him, you’re sure as hell not getting over him." rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x f!reader word count: 8.5k (this got away from me sorry y'all) warnings: angst (lack of communication!), idiots pining, PiV (unprotected), oral (f receiving), hangman x phoenix (blink and u will miss it), no use of y/n. notes: thank you to @waklman for letting me bounce ideas off you! im very nervous abt this one, i feel like its dif from my other stuff so pls pls let me know what u think! my other works are here

Friends with benefits is maybe an inaccurate way to describe what’s going on between you and Bradley. Friends? Sure, since he asked you if you were using that bench at the beach and then he’d introduced himself. With benefits? You’re not sure if they really could be classified that way.

Bradley’s almost always a perfect gentleman.

He doesn’t ignore you in the daylight, but the two of you never talk about the way he finds himself in your bed most nights rather than not, drunk or sober.

It had started one night when you’d turned down an invitation to go to the Hard Deck, instead choosing to do a night of self care. You’d spent too long doing your eyebrows and managed to get a sheet mask to fully cover your face for once. You lost count of how much time you spent in the shower as an indulgence, and threw on the comfiest clothing you owned. Then, you sat yourself down in front of your TV to numb your mind with some perfectly trashy reality television.

Around 11:30, your phone had rang. Picking it up and squinting at the brightness, you saw Bradley’s face grinning back at you, the picture from one of your many beach days since you’d met.

Despite your best instincts you’d picked up. What if he was stranded? What if something had happened? You’d steeled yourself for the worst.

Instead, Bradley had just opened with a simple, “Hey.”

“Bradley? Is everything okay?” You could hear the noise of the Hard Deck in the background, but it had been yelling and there weren’t any sirens.

“Yeah,” His sigh had come over extra loud through the speakers, “Just uh, was just thinking about you.”

“Okay,” What the hell? You remember mouthing the words to yourself as someone on screen had thrown a drink in someone else’s face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He hadn’t responded to your question, instead he’d just said, “Are you at your apartment?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Bradley is everything–”

“I’ll see you soon.” And with that, he’d hung up with a definitive click.

You’d stared at the dimming screen of your phone for probably almost five minutes. Surely he couldn’t have been that drunk–god, was he planning on driving? Calling him during that was probably a bad idea.

Great, leave it to Bradley to stress you the fuck out on a Friday evening when you’d been aiming for peace. You’d tried to refocus on your show, but you weren’t even paying attention to the words.

No more than five minutes later, there had been a knock at your door. You’d stood slowly, not sure that this was actually happening.

You’d opened the door to a Bradley with flushed cheeks and a glint in his eye, leaning against the railing outside your apartment. It was only after a moment of silence that you realized you were wearing an old Navy shirt of his, loaned to you at the beach a few weeks ago. You could feel the way his eyes started at your legs and dragged up your frame, taking everything in.

“Bradley?”

He’d pushed off the railing and backed you into your apartment, letting the door swing shut behind the two of you. You’d backed into the living room til your back hit a wall, your heart in your throat. You couldn’t look away from him, not with the way he’d been crowding into your space, leaning into you.

“Hi, sweetheart.” His voice was a tone he’d never used on you before, and you remember the way your heart had hammered in your chest.

He’d been so warm and so close, setting all of your nerve endings on fire. It wasn’t that you hadn’t realized that Bradley was attractive–the man’s whole job was to stay in shape and be clean cut. He was beautiful. But you’d kept that to yourself, afraid of crossing that line, afraid that you’d ruin something that was turning out to be one of the strongest friendships you’d had in years.

You still feel that fear, despite all the lines that have been crossed since that moment.

The way he’d kissed you had wiped every thought from your head. His hands had slid up your thighs to grip at your waist under his shirt hanging loosely on you. His mouth had moved smoothly against yours, making you sigh and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

By the time the two of you had made your way into your bedroom, he’d lost every piece of clothing but his briefs and his dog tags. They’d dug into your sternum as you’d pressed yourself against him, the cool metal warming quickly between the two of you.

The way your blood had been rushing in your ears from adrenaline had drowned out the way he’d murmured to himself as he’d kissed down your body. He never did pull his shirt off you. He’d simply maintained his grip on your hips, lifting your thighs over his shoulders as he’d pulled your panties down and licked desperately into you.

Your hands had gone to his hair out of reflex. He had been rocking you steadily and you think you’ll always remember how you felt when you’d realized it was because he was grinding his hips against the bedframe, so turned on from getting his mouth on you.

He’d eaten you out like a man starved, his nose bumping into your clit as his tongue fucked you. It had been messy and loud but you hadn’t cared about the neighbors or your dignity, not with the way his fingers had finally curled into you.

“Bradley,” You’d gasped when you finally came, back arching and fingers tightening in his hair to the point where your knuckles ached.

He’d held you through it, had let you rock your hips against his face and not complained at all. In fact, he’d seemed delighted by the way you’d let yourself just feel, pleasure wracking your body and consuming your mind in a haze.

Kissing his way up your body, he’d slid his hands under the shirt and groped you gently. You remember the way your mind had stayed cloudy and you’d floated, tethered only to the real world by the way his thumbs flicked gently at your nipples.

“I’m here, I’m here,” He’d panted into your mouth as you whined when he’d sat back slightly to kick off his briefs and hitch your thighs over his waist, “I’ve got you.”

The first time Bradley had ever slid his cock into you, you knew you’d never be the same, that you’d never be able to go back. Not when he’d kept himself hovering over you just barely, propped up on his elbow, with his lips still brushing yours and his dog tags catching in the sheen of sweat along your sternum. Not when he rocked into you inch by inch, making the world around you blur into nothingness.

You’d let yourself fall apart under him, let yourself sink into the mattress and just take whatever he was willing to give you. He’d fucked you deeper and more gently than anyone before–to this day, you’re not even sure you can classify it as ‘fucking’, that always felt too vulgar for the way he’d brushed his lips over your cheekbones and murmured sweet nothings.

But saying Bradley had, and still does, made love to you means trying to find something from nothing, means discerning some sort of level of connection he’s never made clear. You’re not trying to break your own heart more than you already are.

In spite of that, you can’t forget the way he’d held you like you were precious, like you were everything to him. He’d cum inside you with a guttural moan, a punched out gasp at the way you’d clenched around him. It had made you realize that was all you’d ever wanted, Bradley warm around you and inside you, him making you feel complete in a way you hadn’t known you weren’t whole before.

He’d been a perfect gentleman when you’d both come down, easing out of you so he could clean up. He’d massaged your thighs and hips where you were sure you would’ve been aching the next morning if he hadn’t, had apologized under his breath at the fingerprints now dotying your hips. He’d thumbed at the collar of the Navy shirt where it had stayed on your frame the entire time, looking pensive but never saying anything.

You’d woken up alone the next morning, a sticky note on the bedside table reading–Had to run for work. Thanks for having me over. A messy heart and a hastily scrawled Bradley closing off the message.

And so it went. So it goes.

During the day, you and Bradley are the paragon of good friendship–he’ll send you memes when he gets access to his phone in between flights and lessons, you’ll pick him up after work to go to the beach. The two of you don’t talk about it–because what is there to talk about?

No words are ever exchanged about the way that Bradley clears out a drawer for you at his place, you just find a few of the things you’d left at his place in there one day. You never give back his Navy shirt, not when you find yourself wearing it more often than not. Nothing is said about how you start picking up his favorite flavors of ice cream and his preferred brand of coffee creamer, you just make a habit of throwing them into your cart when you go to the store.

And everything is fine. It really is. You disregard the side glances from Phoenix and Bob as they see you leave with Bradley on Friday and Saturday nights, you ignore the way Hangman wiggles his eyebrows at you when Bradley insists on paying for your drinks. Just friends, is all. Just friends.

They can make their assumptions, whisper while you’re out of ear shot, but they don’t see the quiet, comfortable domesticity that you and Bradley engage in when the two of you are alone. You go back to his after beach afternoons since it’s closer to your favorite spot, and the two of you will shower (separately) and make dinner together. Sometimes you’ll sleep over if you’re working remote the next day, sometimes you’ll go home.

On weekends, Bradley picks you up in the morning, trunk holding a cooler full of drinks and snacks, and you two will go to the beach again or go on a hike. Sometimes Phoenix or Bob or the whole crew will come along, sometimes they won’t.

Just friends. And it’s fine.

Until everything isn’t fine.

Bradley and you have been at this for a few months now, and you can feel yourself cracking. You’re reaching out to kiss him when you do wake up together, before your brain is awake enough to stop you, reminding you that that’s not what you two do. On an outing to a boardwalk teeming with life and populated by those games you can win stuffed animals at, you resist the urge to press him against the railing of the pier and lick the taste of your shared gelato cone out of his mouth.

When the dam finally breaks, it begins like any other night. You have a margarita and a half in you, some concoction that Phoenix insisted you try that’s actually good. Bradley’s already done a rendition of My Way at Penny’s request, but for now the jukebox is blaring some 80s hit Hangman picked out.

You can feel yourself swaying to the beat, just letting the warmth of the moment sink in as you’re surrounded by your friends, the people you love.

“Hi,” Bradley breathes into your ear as he sidles up next to you, his arms coming to settle around your waist. You can feel his warmth through the flimsy fabric of the dress you’ve got on.

“Hi Brad,” He hates it when people call him that–lets you get away with it though. “What’cha doin’?”

“Waitin’ for you.” He leans his entire body weight against you, making you slump against the table you’re standing next to.

“Ah! Bradley, stop it.” You try to stand, but the way he’s laughing makes it hard to shake yourself from his grip, “What do you mean you’re waiting for me? I’m waiting for you.”

The grin he shoots you is electric, and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, right here in the middle of the Hard Deck, with all your friends around and in Penny and Mav’s line of sight. That thought makes your heart skip a beat.

“Come home with me?” He whispers, just barely letting his voice rise above the background noise, and when you don’t respond immediately, “Or let me take you home?”

That’s all it takes, really, for you to agree. The way he’s so willing, so malleable, for you. You’re leading him out by the hand without responding to his questions, making your way to the Bronco that’s parked in the back corner of the lot.

Bradley keeps the foolish grin on his face the entire time he drives back to your apartment. The warmth radiating from him doesn’t abate when he licks into your mouth once the two of you are inside. One of his palms rests against your heart, the other working its way up your thigh and inside your panties that are already damp.

“You’re so good to me,” He murmurs, dipping his fingers below your waistband and brushing through your curls, feeling just how slick you are.

All you can do is whine as he picks you up and makes his way to your bedroom. For once, he doesn’t trip or stub his toe on anything, and it somehow heightens the intensity. Normally, you and Bradley seek comedic relief of some sort, something to cut the tension and keep it from making your chest tighten in a way that feels like a warning. This time, you aren’t granted any such reprieve.

He undresses you slowly and deliberately, letting his fingertips drag lightly up your sides and over your shoulders. He shrugs his Hawaiian shirt off easily, and lets you yank his wife beater over his head without complaint.

Then, the two of you are just staring at each other, both panting lightly. You’re propped up on your elbows, staring up at him only in your panties. Bradley’s got one hand about to pop the button of his jeans, but he’s frozen. You feel like you can’t move but also like something might be changing.

You don’t want it to change, you don’t want to lose Bradley in more ways than one. If this is what he’s willing to give you, you don’t want this to change.

He nearly falls over when his foot gets stuck in his jeans, and even that doesn’t break the tension. Once he’s climbing over you, enveloping you, kissing up your stomach and neck, you forget all about decorum and keeping up appearances.

The whine that echoes around the room is pathetic and high pitched, but it’s the only way you think to communicate to Bradley how bad you need him in that moment. His hips are rocking gently against yours and you want the layers gone, you need to feel him.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” And his hands are around your hips, dragging your underwear off you unceremoniously.

Although he makes a good attempt at going down on you, you don’t let him. You dig your fingers into his shoulder and yank at his hair to keep his face level with yours and kiss him desperately.

“I want to eat you out, please?” The depth of his voice sends a shiver through you.

Normally he wouldn’t even have to ask, but you don’t want that right now. You just want to feel him inside you.

“Need you in me, please,” You take a heaving breath before the pleading spills out of you, “Pleasepleasepleaseplease–”

He shushes you as you scrunch your face up, not knowing how else to convey your desires in that moment, “Okay. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

You almost wail in protest when his fingers slide into you. You can’t figure out why you feel like you’re burning up from the inside out, why you feel so fucking needy.

“Sweetheart you gotta let me prep you somehow, just–”

You feel like the embarrassment might kill you when you keen at the feeling of his fingers inside you. The way you’re trying to be good, you really are, because he does have a point. Plus, you have to be fair to Bradley, this isn’t just about you.

So you hold still, let him work his fingers in and out of you as you pant and clutch at his shoulders like a lifeline. His mouth presses against yours, works its way over your cheeks and down your throat. He sucks a mark gently into your collarbone, and you ignore the way your brain reminds you about having to cover that up for work.

He doesn’t shut up the entire time, just keeps telling you how good you’re doing for him, how good you feel, how he’s been thinking about this all night. The world seems to go right-side up again when he pushes into you.

You whimper at the way he rocks his hips ever so gently before pulling out. He kisses you again and again, only letting his lips leave yours so he can kiss your forehead or cheeks. The motion of his hips is a steady tempo, he keeps time with your breaths that turn into moans when you start feeling that telltale coil in your stomach.

He runs his tongue along your teeth and you’re done for. You clench down on him and dig your nails into his skin, bucking your hips up as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave.

Bradley fucks you through it like every other time, yes, but this time there’s something about the way he stutters out a moan and his hips match the faltering rhythm as he finishes right after you. The shallow rocking of his hips continues and you try to ignore the prickling of tears at the corners of your eyes.

Something tells you that this time, you shouldn’t have let Bradley take you home. When he pulls his face back from yours and he rolls the two of you onto your sides without pulling out, he’s got this look on his face that screams unspoken words. He cups your face and strokes your cheekbone with his thumb without saying anything.

The two of you are quiet as he cleans you up, as you dress yourself in another one of his shirts.

When you wake up the next morning, Bradley isn’t there. It doesn’t shock you necessarily, sometimes he stays, sometimes he has to leave to be on time for work.

What does send a terrible feeling trickling down your throat and into your stomach is the post-it, all four square inches covered in sloppy hearts. Bradley had signed his name in the bottom left corner, characteristic chicken scratch labeling it as him even if the name wasn’t enough.

This has to end.

Don’t pick up the phone, he’s only calling because he’s drunk and alone.

You last about three rings before you cave in, waiting for the sound of his voice to echo around the apartment. You’re holding your breath.

“I knocked.” Is all he says before you’re on your feet, making your way to the door.

There he is, and although you know he isn’t really drunk, you know he’s got a beer or two in him from the way he doesn’t try to hide how he looks at you. You hate the way you’re weak for him.

You’ve been caving to him more than once a week since that first night, since Bradley had knocked your world off kilter. Though you’re in bed together almost every night, whether at his place or yours, you don’t have sex nearly every time. Part of you thinks that might make it worse. It really had been fine at first, but the first morning you’d cried at the sight of that sticky note covered in hearts, you’d known you had to try and put an end to this.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” He tries, a crooked grin splitting his face as he walks toward you, but you know he doesn’t mean his words at all.

“Bradshaw, have you been drinking?” You want to not want this, want to not want the way his gaze pins you down, the way the length of his body against yours just feel so right.

Let him being drunk and you being sober be the excuse, you beg silently. You can’t manage to force out that maybe he should go home, sleep this off in his own bed. You can’t find it in yourself to tell him to leave, to reject his advances. Watching as if outside your own body, he shuts the door behind him and walks up to you.

Your chest aches with unconfessed feelings when he takes your face in his hands and lets his forehead rest against yours. His lips are soft and warm against yours, his mustache tickling you lightly when it brushes against your face. The whine you let out matches his soft groan, and the two of you stand there making out for a few minutes, almost as if you’re both content to just drink each other in without further motives.

“I’ve got you sweetheart, I’ve got you,” And he’s picking you up.

You yelp at the way you’re suddenly lifted from the ground and you bury your face in his neck. You hate heights, your feet off the ground anything more than a few inches sends you spiraling in short order. But it’s Bradley who’s holding you, and some part of you knows he’d never let you fall, never let you crash into the ground.

The way you two fall into your bed is too natural, it makes your stomach churn. His fingers find their place on your hips, around your thighs. It’s all too easy. You wish it would be a bit more awkward, that the chemistry could be imagined or false–instead you’re confronted by the way your bodies flow with one another’s all too easily.

Again, somehow, you’re in nothing but his Navy shirt.

Maybe I should give it back, the thought flits through your mind and you feel guilty immediately. Bradley always seems to take a special sort of pleasure from fucking you in his shirt, and you selfishly want to keep that bargaining chip, to have something that tethers him to you. If he won’t come back to press you into your sheets, then maybe he’ll come back one last time to get his shirt when this inevitably unravels.

“Sweetheart,” He groans softly when his fingers reach the way you’re embarrassingly wet between your legs.

It takes everything in you not to jerk back from his touch–you still don’t know how to confront the way you’re so responsive to his touch. His mere presence.

“I missed you.”

It slips out before you can stop yourself, your lips part and you breathe the words before you can do anything about it. He chooses that exact moment to dip a fingertip into your fluttering, but empty, hole, and you arch your back and moan. Instead of responding, he kisses you hungrily, all pretense gone.

This isn’t something entirely tender, not anymore. He’s searching for something, a certain reaction, with the way he adds and then curls his fingers inside of you. He finds it when you jerk underneath him at the way he pets at that spot inside you you can never seem to reach on your own.

He mumbles against your lips, “There you go,” As you squirm under him, the press of his fingers inside you relentless.

He works his fingers in and out of you, not taking anything in return. It’s all you can do to hold on to him and whine pitifully. Every sensation feels amplified, feels electric because it’s him.

The two of you settle into a familiar rhythm for as long as it takes for Bradley to make you cum the first time. You’re rocking against him through the aftershocks and you can feel the way he’s hard against you through his clothes.

He’s still dressed. The realization sends a bolt of shame through you, but it doesn’t linger long.

He’s shoving his jeans down his legs, not bothering with wiping his hand clean and you shiver at the thought that he’ll have to put them on again, you streaked across them. He makes quick work of his boxers too, and it occurs to you that he must’ve lost his shirt somewhere along the way when he presses his bare chest against your still clothed one.

“Bradley, Bradley,” You chant, “Take off my shirt.”

It’s the most demanding you’ve probably ever been with him, but he laughs at you anyways. There’s a glint in his eye as he sits up, his hard cock bobbing between his thighs. The sight of his naked form between your spread legs makes you swallow hard and your mouth water.

“I like you in my shirt.” There’s something unsaid there, something about claims and ownership that isn’t truly possession, but a reminder of who belongs to whom regardless.

You pull it off your head in protest, and grab his wrist to drag him back down to you. You let yourself indulge in trailing a hand down the firm planes of his body down to where he’s smearing precum against your thigh. He’s heavy and pulsing in your hand and a light hiss rushes through his clenched teeth when you grip him tightly and twist with your wrist.

“Fuck, fuck, not gonna last if you–” Bradley cuts himself off with a groan as you swipe your thumb over his head.

It’s your turn to laugh, “You just got here.”

“Well, have you ever had sex with yourself? It’s tough out here–give a guy a break.”

The both of you dissolve into giggles at that, as you try to imagine how you would look sprawled under yourself. You can’t picture it, but the image of Bradley under or over you makes you think you might understand.

He lines his hips up with yours once you’re both done making fools of yourself at the thought of you having sex with yourself (it reminds you of a drunk hypothetical you’d spent thirty minutes on with Hangman once–would you have sex with a clone of yourself?).

The first push of him inside you cuts through the lighthearted mood immediately. It always shocks you how perfectly he fits inside you despite his size, how incredibly full you feel when his hips meet yours. The gentle friction of the neat curls at the base of his cock against your clit always provides a stimulation that makes your brain go fuzzy.

The snap of his hips against yours is more intense this time, a sort of rhythm that makes you briefly think about the way the headboard might start knocking against the wall. But all thoughts, really, fly out of your head when Bradley brings a hand up to your nipples, the steady stroke of his fingers over the swell of your breasts as practiced and knowing as everything else he’s doing to you.

All you can do is run your hands down his back, scratch your nails against his skin ever so often when he brushes against something so sweet and perfect inside you. You clench around him just to see the reaction it’ll get, and you’re rewarded with a broken groan.

“You’re not fighting fair,” He gasps, and he hitches one of your thighs up so he can press more insistently into you.

You have a clever comeback somewhere in you–something about how you weren’t aware that the two of you were fighting, but it’s swallowed as he presses his lips into yours again. He seems absolutely intent on showing you exactly how you make him feel because the sensations of pleasure become overwhelming.

“Fuck sweetheart, you feel perfect, god you’re so wet for me,” He’s rambling mindlessly, but you let it happen, clinging to any expression of emotion, any sliver of dedication in his tone that you can hold on to til the next time you find yourself in this position.

You know he’s close when his grip on your thigh tightens forcefully and the strokes go from long and deep to slightly shorter and stunted. He’s grunting and gasping, but it’s all the best thing you’ve ever heard.

“Come for me Bradley, I want to feel you,” And at that, he follows your orders, listens to you for once in his life.

Everything is hazy as he keeps himself hovering over you and continues to rock his hips. You start to try and tell him he can pull out before his fingers find your clit and he dives back in to kiss you passionately.

Bradley is a perfectionist at heart, an overachiever. You suppose it isn’t entirely ridiculous that that extends to his performance in the bedroom–he’s insistent you finish every time, and always more than him. Feeling the way he’s still warm and heavy inside you, his lips firm against yours, brings you over the edge more quickly than you’d like to admit.

Still, you heave a shuddering gasp and let the pleasure wash over you. It’s overwhelming and all consuming, but he’s there through all of it til you feel yourself come back into your own body.

You think he might be writing something on your skin, the way his finger loops and dips softly over your hip bone as he kisses you gently. He’s softening inside you and you can feel the mess the two of you made under your hips, except he isn’t moving, not yet at least, to rectify that situation.

For once, you don’t push him to go clean up or scold him for another set of ruined sheets, you just let yourself bask in the moment as you imagine a world where the two of you will talk about this in the morning. You think of a timeline where this is where you end up because it’s where you’re meant to be, not because it’s something you’re choosing despite how it hurts you every time. You think of a place where Bradley is yours and you are his, wholly and completely.

Don’t let him in, you’ll have to kick him out again.

“Didn’t you have a date tonight?” You breathe into his mouth.

Bradley just hums in response, brushing his lips over yours, down your jawline and your throat. His breath comes in warm puffs over your collarbones before he pulls back.

Hands pinned above your head, you squirm under his gaze. There’s something so intense about the way he’s looking at you, but you can’t bring yourself to squeeze your eyes shut to avoid it. Both of you lost your clothes somewhere on your way to the bedroom, and you’re thinking about how to persuade him to be the one to pick it all up when this is inevitably over.

He smells like expensive cologne, and he’s got some product in his hair that made it difficult for you to brush your hands through it earlier. Plus, Phoenix had been dropping unsubtle hints earlier in the week (Hangman had affectionately called her out, a little sigh following— “You’re being such a shit stirrer.”)

“Bradley,” You try again, this time with a slight whine.

Did he seriously ditch some girl that’s probably been waiting on their date all week for this?

He responds by whispering your name back to you, the same tone undercutting the way he says it, “That doesn’t matter, I’m here now.”

The urge to keep complaining rises in you but he preempts your worries by licking into your mouth when you open it.

He presses you into the mattress, weighing you down as he kisses you languidly, as if he’s trying to taste every part of you, as if he’s trying to memorize the sounds that escape you when he does. The warmth of his body makes your mind fog, and for the time being, everything else but this goes quiet.

Distantly, you know that in the morning, he’ll have to leave. At the very least, he’ll have to go back to his to grab his stuff for the beach, a change of clothes. It isn’t kicking him out, but watching him leave again and again has started to build this pit at the bottom of your stomach.

It would be different, you think, if the two of you were together. Because then, him leaving wouldn’t mean much where there would be an implicit promise and understanding that he was going to come back. Every time he closed the door behind him, you swallowed the fear that that would be your final memory of him.

You’re selfish though. And you want to focus on the feeling of his touch instead of thinking about how you may never get to have this again.

He makes it easy. Bradley pulls his shirt off and his dog tags make a gentle clinking sound as they hit each other and then finally come to rest on his chest. He looks like a god, backlit by the setting sun coming through your windows.

This is how you want to remember him. Smiling down at you as he dives back in to kiss you breathless, twitching when you skim your fingertips up his sides because he’s ticklish.

He makes short work of your shirt and sleep shorts, then his jeans are discarded. He stops briefly when his fingers reach the waistband of your underwear, a silent question that you answer by lifting your hips and letting him pull them off you.

Every time he’s between your legs, he has this reverent look on his face, and it makes your chest twist at the fact that this time is no different. He holds your thighs open gently but firmly, and he presses his face into your pussy. Then, his tongue is darting out and licking up your core, flat and wide.

You’d asked him once, if he likes going down on you. With a gleam in his eye, Bradley had said it was second only to being inside of you. You think of that as he eats you out enthusiastically, as you bury your hands in his hair and pull.

He slides his tongue in and out of you, curls it around your clit and sucks in a way that makes your back arch and your thighs clenched around his head. Then, he’s slipping a finger inside and fucking you slowly with it. It makes you shiver as you realize how close you are.

“Sweetheart, fuck, you taste incredible,” He murmurs, more to himself than anything else, pulling back briefly to make eye contact and you feel the way your breath quickens at the intensity of his gaze.

It only takes a few more minutes of him licking into you, tonguing at your clit, and adding another finger before you feel that familiar swooping in your stomach, before you’re choking out his name. Your back arches so much it aches, but it’s all you can do as the pleasure is all consuming. Bradley works you through it like every other time, holding you and letting you take what you need from him.

Then, he’s on you in an instant, kissing you furiously and sliding his hardness up and down you, covering himself in your slick. It’s filthy and sloppy but neither of you seem to mind. He lets himself rut against you til you’re hooking your legs around him and digging one of your heels into his back.

“Alright, alright,” He’s trying to sound nonchalant, but you know he’s more affected than his light tone lets on.

The first push into you is always the most intense, but you suck in a deep breath that you force out through your teeth.

“I know, I know,” He croons, pressing little kisses all over your face as you adjust to him.

Bradley inches into you slowly, inch by inch. The initial stretch subsides til it’s replaced by the sweetest feeling of fullness, the way you can feel all of him.

If there’s one thing the Navy’s good for, it’s the sheer strength Bradley possesses and has to maintain. You feel it in the way he fucks you, his back muscles rippling as you hold on for dear life. You feel it in the way his hips press into yours, shunting you slightly up the mattress.

For a while, the only sounds in the room are his hips meeting yours and the slick between the two of you. Momentarily, he pulls away from kissing you to look down to where he’s disappearing inside of you, that ring of you collecting at the base of his cock. His groan is guttural and broken.

“Fuck, Bradley, it feels so good.”

He leans down again to kiss you sloppily, and the simple action of him burying a hand in your hair and twisting his wrist makes your heart skip a beat. He always knows exactly what you need when you need it.

“C’mon, come for me, sweetheart, let me feel you.”

And because you’ve never been able to deny him anything, there you are, hurtling over the edge again. He’s everywhere around you, inside you, and his tongue in your mouth is the last thing you need to feel that wave crest inside of you. Bradley’s moan is deep as he feels you bare down on him and he follows you shortly after.

The moments after, when the glow is still settling and your mind is still hazy, are your favorite. Your mind is too foggy to focus on the fact that you know he’ll be leaving, but present enough to feel the way he doesn’t stop pressing kisses to your lips. You’re cognizant of how he cleans you up tenderly and presses his fingers into the skin of your thighs and hips just to watch it dimple.

In those precious few minutes, that’s all that exists to you.

Don’t be his friend, you know he’s going to wake up in your bed in the morning. If you’re under him, you’re sure as hell not getting over him.

You’re trying to ignore him, you really are. You start going to the beach an hour earlier than you usually do, hoping that he’s maintaining his schedule. Every tall brunette jogging across the sand sends your heart into overdrive.

You still see Bradley when you go to the Hard Deck for a drink, but you keep a respectable distance between the two of you. If Phoenix mentions a round of pool, you jump at the chance, while asking Bob and Payback if they’d like to be the opposing team. You ignore the way your heart jumps into your throat when you can feel his eyes on you.

Every note of Great Big Balls of Fire feels like a stab in the chest, and you hold back tears of frustration when you see some girl wrap her arms around his neck and rock along with him as he belts out the lyrics. You’re a fool.

You’ve been ignoring his calls about Saturday morning beach runs and the memes he sends during the day go unanswered except for the little reactions iPhones let you send. You suppose it’s only fair that he gets to ignore you a little bit too.

Your little charade doesn’t last long, not truly in the grand scheme of things. Bradley doesn’t put up with you skirting his advances for long–he knows what he wants and he’ll be relentless til he gets it. And right now, he’s trying to corner you.

And you’re weak for him. You should’ve known from the start that you wouldn’t be able to resist him. You can’t even now, even when you’re only getting him in pieces.

It’s not exactly your bravest moment to be hiding slightly behind Phoenix so he can’t see you (if you can’t see him, he can’t see you, right?) while she stares at you with an endlessly amused expression in her eyes. She doesn’t move to expose you, though.

“What’cha doin’?” Her tone is light, but you can tell she means business.

The two of you are friends yes, but she’s known Bradley for a million times longer. There’s some girl-girl solidarity, but if you were in her shoes, you might have a few bones to pick about potentially throwing Bradley to the wolves on this one. You wonder for a moment if he’s been talking to her about all this, but again, is there even anything to talk about?

“Just uh, trying to see where Hangman’s at?” You sound like you’re asking her a question, and she quirks an eyebrow.

She stretches the syllables of her next word out, letting it hang in the air, “Right. Even I don’t look at Hangman with that sort of intensity.”

That’s not entirely true, but you don’t really feel like getting into a competition with Phoenix of all people, over who’s looking at whom how.

“Sweetheart? Can we talk?”

You’d let Phoenix distract you for just a split second, and there he is, in all his glory. Bradley is beautiful, yes, but he looks tired. His sunny’s are hanging haphazardly from a floral button down that looks like it’s maybe seen better days, and he’s got dark circles marring the perfect tone of his tanned skin.

This time, Phoenix just side-steps you and lets Bradley into your space.

His presence is just as affecting there, in the middle of the Hard Deck, as it was the first time you saw him on the beach. Even with how tired he looks, he’s still glowing just slightly in the evening sun.

“Hi, Bradley,” You breathe, not daring to speak louder, as if that would make the moment real.

You can feel Phoenix’s eyes on you, the way that Bob and Payback are starting to let their attention drift to from the game of pool. This, you don’t want anyone else to be witness to. This is something between just the two of you. You don’t really need the whole world to witness your imminent heartbreak.

“I don’t want to do this here, is my place okay?” He looks so nervous, as if you’re going to push him away. It’s funny really, what you know is about to happen, and yet he still looks like this is about to break him entirely.

Nodding, you let him lead you out of the bar. It feels like deja vu, how however many weeks ago you were tracing these exact steps but making your way towards a very different fate.

The two of you are silent in the Bronco, and Bradley doesn’t bother turning the radio up to belt along to the 80s classic on the radio. Everything feels like you’re underwater, like the world is out of focus. You think you might start crying, but you try and swallow it down, be an adult.

Pulling into the driveway, it’s silent in the car when he turns the engine off. Neither of you go to get out, but you know you can’t sit here forever. This had to happen at some point, had to come to a close. That doesn’t make getting out of the car and waiting for Bradley to unlock the door any easier, though.

You toe off your shoes and let him get you a glass of water. Then, you’re standing on opposite sides of his kitchen, the pristine shine of the countertops and appliances making him feel a thousand miles away. You two are usually tumbling in, mouths locked together, or walking in with groceries, prepared to spend a comfortable evening cooking and watching a movie. This is everything coming apart at the seams.

“Bradley,” You start, not really knowing where you’re going, but just wanting to break the silence.

He looks distraught and your stomach drops with guilt.

This is your fault.

He says your name once as he settles back against a countertop, and it hangs in the air between the two of you, til he starts speaking again, “I’ve been trying to figure out where I went wrong, what lines I crossed, and I guess at some point I realized it was all of them. I shouldn't have pushed you, I shouldn’t have–”

“I thought that that was all I could have of you, so I was selfish and I took it.” You say, the words tumbling out of you before you can stop yourself from interrupting him, but still unable to tear your eyes away from him, “But I was hurting you. I still am, and god, Bradley, I’ll make it up to you somehow, I’m so sorry.”

It’s almost funny, really, the way you’ll look back on this moment a year from now and laugh at the way the two of you are talking past each other, unwilling to acknowledge that your deepest desires could be attainable. But for now, all you can feel is the guilt in your veins, your heartbeat pounding your chest.

“What?” He’d looked at the floor for a moment, but when you finish speaking he’s looking at you intently. “What did you say?”

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and start from the beginning, “I thought that you coming to me, like that, was the only way I could have you. And, and maybe it was me taking advantage because you were sometimes not super sober, but I would never–”

“I was always sober. Every time. I would never do that to you. What do you mean that was the only way you thought you could have me?” Bradley’s standing fully now, not leaning.

“I thought you drank before, to, y’know, make it tolerable.” You regret the words as soon as you say them, “Sorry, that’s–you’re not that kind of person.”

He smiles ruefully, “I’m still focused on the part about that being the only way you could have me.”

Here it is.

“I love you, Bradley. And not just as a friend, but more. But I didn’t want to push that on you, and so I thought–”

“You love me?”

A beat.

“Yes.”

Then, he’s laughing in that hysterical way when people are so overcome, the only way it’ll escape them is if they double over in giggles. But he’s trying to compose himself as quickly as he started.

“I tried to tell you so many times how I felt, I left you all those post-it notes, god, I thought you were seeing them and just didn’t feel the same.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“The hearts. That’s how I,” He heaves a shuddering breath, his voice thick with unshed tears, “That’s how I told my parents I loved them before I could really write. I was saying it to you every time I left.”

“You love me?” You’re crying now, and he squeezes his eyes shut til tears run down his cheeks too.

His laugh is bitter but you know that’s not directed at you, “Was the sticky note covered in hearts not clear enough?”

You feel the way your cheeks warm and your stomach churns as you try and defend yourself, “You were thanking me for letting you sleep over?”

At that, he laughs, genuine this time, breaking the sadness that has been building in the air. Finally, he makes his way across the room to you and crowds into your space, wrapping you in his arms and pressing his forehead to yours. His eyes are closed.

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, a plea, and a prayer all in one. “I meant every heart, every I love you, from the very first one I left.”

“I kept them all. In my bedside table.”

Then his lips are on yours. The kiss is salty, reminding you of all the emotion that’s been building for the past few months, every moment you didn’t confess, every moment you assumed the worst, it’s all there. But you don’t want to dwell on that now, now that you’ve heard him say something plucked from your wildest dreams.

“Say it again,” You whisper when his lips leave yours ever so briefly as the two of you are stumbling to the bedroom.

And he does. As he’s undressing you, he says it. He mumbles it against your lips and into your mouth.

He says it against your bare skin as he presses you into his bed, the sheets smelling like him before he puts on cologne. It’s muffled momentarily by the way he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, but you feel the way his jaw works anyways as you cup his face. You let your legs fall open around him and feel the way he slides his fingers into you.

When he’s pressing into you, he’s saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you.

In those moments between start and finish, when the world falls away and all you know is the warmth of his body against yours, the slight slick of sweat on your skin, that’s when you think you realize that he means it. The motion of his hips is deep and insistent, as if to try and leave a permanent reminder that he was there.

You’re crying, you realize. And he’s kissing the tears away like it’s the most natural thing in the world, pressing his forehead to yours as his lips keep forming the words. At some point, you’ve started saying them back to him too, choking them out despite everything so that you know that he knows that you love him.

When you finish, it feels like a supernova exploding inside of you. It starts in the center of your body and pushes its way to your fingertips til you’re gasping for air and he fucks you through it. Bradley cums moments later, filling you with his warmth in a way that’s both familiar and still thrilling.

He rolls gently off you, and you hiss as he slips out. That’ll be a mess to clean up.

But he’s looking at you, brushing your sweaty hair from your face, and his eyes are shining so brightly that it feels like looking at the sun. You want to look away, but you think that losing your vision in return for staring at the way his eyes crinkle in genuine happiness is well worth the price.

I love you, he mouths. And you believe him.

You whisper it back.

tagging: @sebsxphia @roosterbruiser @bradshawburner @gretagerwigsmuse @sometimesanalice @joaquinwhorres @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @bradshawsbitch @seresinsweetie @notroosterbradshaw @genius2050 @peachystenbrough @rhettabbotts @theharddeck @wkndwlff - tagging ppl either by request or whom i feel like are horny for bradley soooo pls let me know if you'd like to be added/removed

#bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #top gun: maverick fanfic #top gun: maverick fanfiction #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader #no use of y/n

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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fic rec friday 7

welcome the the seventh fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. tender by sunswathe [EXPLICIT]

This is the absolute last thing they should be doing right now.

Not when Pidge is known for crashing into Keith’s room in the middle of the night for no reason other than being bored.

Not when he can hear Hunk’s loud snoring, muffled through the door.

Not when his sister is just outside, sleeping on the couch, while Lance is in Keith’s room, sleeping with her childhood best friend.

But Lance couldn't care less.

i’m gonna be real w yall ur gonna see a lot of secret relationship fics bc im obsessed with them. theres something about the tenderness of privacy and intimacy of secrecy that just Gets To Me. this fic lived up to its title exactly

2. right hand man by laidellennt

As his right hand man, Lance grows closer to Keith and realizes a few things about him, as well as a few things about himself.

In other words, Lance realizes he has a major crush on Keith.

look the red paladin lance black paladin keith dynamics Grew on me okay. i cannot live without them now they are so so powerful. this fic is fun and fluffy and it features pining lance, whom i adore. also keiths whipped ass referring to lance as his right hand man and impulse control will never fail to make me scream

3. A Look, a Dance by @ohcontrary [explicit-ish??]

What would it be like to have Keith's arms wrapped around him for real, not as a distraction? And that look. What would it be like for it to mean jealousy, to mean desire? Lance shuddered, heat curling at the base of his spine before he stopped, sobering quickly as he remembered the serious way Keith had named him ‘my paladin.’

i specifically remember having to walk this one off. u know when a fic is so good that u actually cant take it and have to take a break to cool off?? yeah that was this fic. the PINING. dear lord. it was so wonderful. i have several lines from this screenshotted in my devotion scrapbook. please please give it a read.

4. Red Together by @ohcontrary [again explicit-ish]

A series of Klance fics featuring Shy!Lance and Flirty!Keith. Part 5 in progress on the.grrrl.aliens!

[Mostly based on fanart. Have a piece you wanna see written? send it to me on tumblr!]

another thing by @ohcontrary bc her fics are always a hit. this series was one of the first if not the first to pioneer the shy/flustered lance tag, so we all owe it a great service fr. i never got to read part five bc i dont have patreon but i imagine the whole thing was amazing. ohcontrary i miss u and this series will always be a fave

5. you love me (don’t let me go) by jjkimchi (orphan_account)

Lance forgets he's married to Keith.

do not be fooled, friends, for there is no angst here. there is a brief moment of disorientation from lance proceeded immediately by he and keith being Trouble and causing Drama, bc of who they are as people. this fic makes me laugh every time.

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

#that third one truly gets me every time #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #soft klance #pining lance #pining keith #fic rec #fic rec friday #longpost

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bloodhailmp3 · 5 months

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its insane how much the yves tumor gig last friday affected my brain like ik i was on molly n everything but that was honestly the closest ive ever felt to transcendence n i genuinely think i wouldve felt like that even if id been stonecold sober. i kinda wish i had been sober just so i couldve properly soaked that gig into every pore of my body and wrinkle in my brain. i never rlly understood when ppl talked abt "post gig depression" but i Get It Now bc like im still happy n all but all i desperately want is to be at a yves gig again

#mp #like it genuinely feels like smth shifted in my brain that night #everything feels so much easier and happier like that was a spiritual experience im telling u

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forestlv4r · 3 days

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When are people gonna stop talking about me?☠️ bitch i said what i said and i'll say it again, yes I apologized but ur a stranger on the internet and i mean nothing to you and you mean nothing to me. IDGAF if im "judging who they show online and maybe that isnt actually them" FUCK THAT they chose to show this version of themselves online and im gonna judge it😛

cry all u want this shit doesn't matter to me in the end of the day ur blocked, u dont matter to me, i have my own life, u can get everyone to message me bitch I'll just turn off my messages and close tumblr tf🤣

tumblr isnt my whole life not even a fraction of my life and u arent ANY POINT of my life either, u getting mad cus ur feelings got hurt that someone doesnt like ur boo boo bear then thats a u issue and go figure that out with ur therapist.

this is for the whiners and the sobers and the goofy goobers who cant stand or handle the fact that the earth has different opinions and views than their own

anyway ima go watch the triplets Friday video cus i didn't see it yet.

Peace and love💋

ps. This is the last post im making about this cus its NEVER that serious lmfao, go hug ur mom or smt tell her u love her

#Peace and love

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alexandraswords · 11 months

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F*CK NORMAL

An overdue ending to a (un)well decorated drinking career.

Introduction

Friday, June 9, 2023 9:28 AM

Today is one of those days where I am just tired, and a bit bored, but mostly tired. I am exhausted. Mentally at least. I have really been putting my all into my sobriety to the point where my day revolves around meetings but im starting to lose momentum. I have a headache, the dog wont stop barking, i'm trying to pop the zits on my face. Basically being alone with my discontented ass self is not something I'm great at... yet.

I should meditate or journal or text another AA member. But I just want to sleep and be normal and relax. But fuck normal.

I thought drinking was normal. I thought my diet of vodka and water and the occasional box of cheez-its was adulting. I thought I was mature and well refined and socially acceptable because I drank, just like everyone else, because, you know, drinking is normal... right?

Wrong. Not for me. I am NOT normal. So I have to do abnormal shit to keep my addictive eating disordered alcoholic riddled ass self sober and happy. I have to keep listening to other people because me making my own decisions landed me in a crack den sharing a room with a friend I would consider a sibling, whom which a fought with constantly to the point where I dragged the mattress from our third floor apartment (if you consider that uninhabitable shit hole, an apartment) down out side below out kitchen window so if I jumped maybe the universe would send me a sign saying that it is or isn't time yet. Okay so I didn't actually do that, but I sure as shit thought about it... a lot. Like a lot. I mean i couldn't even barely walk to the bathroom let alone haul some shit down the stairs. Hell, I wouldn't even walk across the street to get my own liquor. I would bribe my roommate by telling him if he went for me and took my card he could buy something for myself. I just didn't care anymore. I hated everything. I hated that I had to be loaded to be able to walk because my shakes were so bad. I hated that I had to drink to even feel sober and functional and not hallucinate and vomit and dry heave bright green bile. And worst of all I hated that I had lost control.

My eating disorder and my alcoholism made my reality disappear. The food temporarily until my life became a cage, and the nicest word I can think of to name it would be a vomitorium because it was actually that repulsive if you could see inside the walls of it. The alcohol took control over me so I didn't have to deal with food, but also made it so I didn't worry or care about ANYTHING.

So I guess this is how I'm going to start this ... whatever rant of words form a book. Where I'm at right now. Because right now is all I have. Yes, I am in full self pity mode, but if there's one thing I've learned from AA it's that I need to take action, and never have I ever felt worse after going to a meeting. So,lets go fucking make our bed, and meditate or some shit and get ready for today. So, yeah, Fuck Normal.

So, Why the fuck not?

I got most talkative in fifth grade. The english section of my English SAT’s, I aced. People (my boyfriend) seem to like my writing and have told me If I don’t do something with it, then they’ll publish it themselves… which I’m pretty sure falls into the lines of plagiarism but lets be honest here. I am probably one of the biggest procrastinators when it comes to doing something that is actually good for me. Why? The fuck if I know. Maybe because all I’ve known has been chaos and panic since, like, forever, that when it comes to the real things, like happiness and joy and pride in work that I’VE DONE… well, I'm just not used to that type of thing. But I figured, fuck it. I can write a book. All i have to do is elaborate on how awesome I am at self sabotaging and add in some very few lessons I picked up and am still learning day by day. Basically I’ve decided its time to just put all my shit in one bound piece of parchment instead of having to explain my life story to everyone as if its my first day with a new therapist.

But alas, melodramatic Alex is bored and avoiding meditating, to keep her shit together and be healthier, obviously, because that would actually be beneficial to my well being. So for now i’ll just throw it in one of the corners in the back of my mind while it slowly simmers into a pot of anxiety attack soup while I try and explain to you (briefly before the pot starts boiling) how fucking insanely delusionally fantastically fucked my life is, and how I got here, and why I wouldn’t change one second of it for anything. But I mean, there’s forwards and shit in books right? So can this be like a PS after the main intro forward? ‘Cause This sober bitch has to go meditate before a meeting so I can stay mindful in my sobriety and not add homicide to my list of criminal activities. (That was a joke) So for now, just for today, Namaste Sober.

P.P.S- enjoy the buffet of garbage that hopefully is not similar to mine. But if you can and most likely will relate if you’re reading this (most likely because my clever title struck a chord in your twisted little heart) then just know, you're not alone in this shit show, but no one ever really puts the shit show on the ‘gram now do they?

#sobriety #clean and sober #addiction recovery #sobercommunity

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sanzulicious · 2 years

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My first post i hope you like it!

•Warnings•

This story contains

Smut,angst,comfort,cursing

Ill be using bonten sanzu for this ;)

I dont own these characters they are owned by ken wakui.

It was indeed a beautiful day in tokyo Were the city full of people walking. Y/n a girl who works at a cafe with 3 other people your the cashier taking orders while the others prepare.

“Hello there what can i get you today?” You say to them.

“Frappe please!” They said.

“Sure thing” you say while putting it in.

“It will be right out” you say.

“Y/n are you busy tonight? Your coworker erika asks.

“Huh oh Well ive been wanting to watch this show for the longest thats what i have planned for tonight why?” you say.

“Really how boring y/n dont you ever have a club to go in mind? its a friday night. Have you even been to a club y/n?” Erika says with a scoff.

“First off its not boring they said its acutally a good show besides..i rather do that than go to a club and get hit on by gross thirsty men.” You said.

“Well they hit on you because your hot, besides i never seen you with a guy before are you a lesbian by chance?” Erika asks with a hand over her mouth.

“Shut up erika im not gay. And if i was you’d see me with someone im just not in the mood to date anyone at the momment.”

Thats right you werent you will get hit on at a store or anywhere you were at you were indeed hot like erika said but you never gave any guy a chance last time you had boyfriend was back in highschool 11th grade. His name was ryota but eventually you guys broke up since then you havent seen him. You were working to save up money to move out of japan and go to the usa since you have family there and your cousins.

“Let her be erika if she doesnt wanna go its fine let her be boring.” Your other coworker kai said with a wink.

“Ha-ha very funny and stop saying boring im not boring okay i have fun with myself okay..” you say crossing your arms.

“Ouu What kind of fun with youself” kai says with a wink again.

“masterbate” erika says with a whisper.

“HAHAHA” both kai and erika laugh.

“FUCK YOU GUYS im done with you two” you say.

Kai and erika were your coworkers well also friends. You met them at the cafe you were new and eventually yall became friends they would always joke around they are heavy jokesters sometimes they go to far. Like rightnow. They were different than you, you weren’t exactly the going out type you were more into staying home and companied with your dog prince. You make plans of what you were gonna do in the usa once you saved up money but you still had long way to go but to you there wasnt a problem with planning early. And you weren’t exactly a drinker either, you would only drink to a limit your still sober in your own house.

“Oi everyone has needs girl its okay* *wink* kai says.

You roll your eyes with a smirk.

“YO so anyways come to a club with us y/n out of all the times we invited you, you cant skip this one girl it is turned up” erika says.

“Oh yeah its in Roppongi girl you cant miss this one we wont take no for an answer.” Kai said.

“In Roppongi?” You say.

“Yeah they say the club is owned by these two brothers but this one is gonna be different its gonna be under the name kokonoi whos hosting something there supposedly theres gonna be a game and they’re gonna bet money and whoever wins gets 100k” Erika says cheerfully.

“Well im for sure gonna join the game, you should to y/n i mean you might win since you are saving up money to leave us you whore.. this is an opportunity for you, you should go for it.” Kai says.

Im not “leaving” you guys there is something called facetime and i can come visit sometimes. And also there’s no way in hell ill win but i do need money so 50/50 chance. For that ill take a risk. But i hate partys, but..fuck it i need money.” You say with a sigh.

“Thats the spirit!” Erika says with a smile.

“*sigh* so you said its tonight right? Well what time are you guys picking me up im not taking my car so you better give me ride erika if you want me to go.” You say.

“I knew your cheap ass was gonna say that and ill pick you up at 11pm.” Erika says pinching your cheek.

“We barely have costumers today this place looks like desert dry as hell.” Kai says.

“Well yeah we barely had 6 customers today.. what do you think sumiko?” Erika asks the other coworker.

“Hehe yeah i think this place might need an upgrade?.” The girl says.

“Hell yeah” erika says.

“Haha” you laugh.

*8:00pm*

Later that day you closed the cafe heading home. Once you made it home you threw your keys on the counter and went to your room and landed on the bed *sigh* “im tired i dont even wanna go but what can i do if i need the money theres a chance i might win i might be lucky right prince hehe.” You say to you dog laying beside you. You dog tilt his head to the side. You grabed your phone from your pocket and checked the time just “2hrs 1/2 left before she picks me up” you say. You got up and went to you closet to see what dress youll wear tonight.

“Hmm no not this one”.. “bleh”.. “o-ohh this one looks good havent wore this one yet” you grabbed a pretty black dress. “Ill wear this one i guess with these black heels”. You say.

2hrs 1/2 passed by you were ready and you were waiting for erika. While you were waiting you felt pretty nervous to go well nervous about the game maybe its gonna be hard to win who knows you kept overthinking. *HONK* “Y/N im outside you whore.” You heard erika yelling outside. You look out the window you grabbed your keys and phone and said goodbye to your dog prince.

“Are you fucking kidding me erika my neighbors heard you your being to loud they are asleep at this hour” you say.

“Yeah yeah” WOOOO!*HONK**HONK* erika speeds off.

“Your so fucking childish erika” kai say.

“HEY IM HERE TO HAVE FUN ALRIGHT!” Erika shouts.

“Yeah but dont be loud and can you slow down before we get a ticket.” You say.

“You guys SUCK” erika says.

“Haha” kai laughs.

*End of chapter 1*

I know its short ill make the other one longer.

I hope you like this chapter thank you for reading.!

•Heres the outfit you chose•

#tokyorevengers #sanzu haruchiyo #bonten #my story

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ultra-deepestbouquet · 6 months

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10/19/2022

I finally got a job and it's sort of doing what I was doing before. SIGH

I was getting a little bit desperate and you wont believe what happened with all of these other companies - I still cant fucking believe the unprofessionalism and lack of any follow up or thank you or anything. Just so bizarre. Everything has always worked out for me with a job and I really feel like its going to be ok this time. I turned down a job offer that was gonna be 5k more then what I make now because I was trying to move away from sales. My gut was saying I wasnt ready yet but Im still kinda pissed. I have to change my habits- like saying no to people and staying more sober and actually writing and building a network. I just saw a post one of my new work colleagues wrote about her baby going back to daycare and a lightbulb went off. I can start writing little or big posts on Linkedin just being me. My going back to work post got 1300 impressions. Like what? I was always trying not to think that Im just a hot girl in the workforce but now im going to use it to my advantage. Im feeling more comfortable in my skin, in my sexuality. I mean why do I pay so much for my hair and botox and skincare if Im not going to use it? lol My first post will be tomorrow about my first week, the emotions ive had, thanking my co workers, reiterating that I am excited to make an impact and then plug in my business at the end. Boom.

I never envisioned myself as a leader but how exciting and proud will I be if I start killing it and then Adam trusts me and then I get to run the phoenix office and then I have lots of money and then Joel is fawning over me? All these women in the lifestyle are little powerhouses it's wild. I can do that. Im still young. I still have a lot to learn.

I am proud of me damn it. I never say it but I am. This week isn't even over yet and I have a busyish Friday but wow it went by fast. If I cant go to Pride Fest Im gonna be really bummed out but its gonna be like $100 maybe more after tickets, outfit, and drinks and its on a Sunday :( I shouldn't even be drinking anyway because of this medicine. And I just bought my halloween costume and I need the damn devil horns to go with it now.

I need to make journaling a priority - I will!

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driftingandlostwords · 1 year

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one thing that got stuck in my head constantly was our conversations on friday. he told me on friday that he was going to be in houston for three days and i was surprised at that because he was just going for a concert. when i asked about it he got upset and started talking about how this is why he doesn't tell me anything. that i ask questions not because im interested but because im trying to keep tabs on him. he went on to say that he didn't ask anything about LAN. and that he wouldn't care if i left the apartment for a whole week. that he wouldn't ask any questions and that he wouldn't say anything because he trusts me and knows that i would be safe. but its not a matter of trust and safety. its a matter of being interested in what each other are doing. like wouldn't you want to know what your partner is doing? like wouldn't you want to be invested in their time and hobbies?

later that night when he came back to see me packing for atlanta, he asked me a bunch of questions abt what i was doing, why i was going, who i was going with, when i was leaving and when i was coming back. like why are you asking all of these questions if you "don't care if im gone" - either you are being hypocritical or you are just lying about saying you don't care. regardless that was an awful thing to say. whats the point of a relationship if you never know whats going on in each others life. after asking all those questions, he apologized to me about everything that he's been doing. he acknowledged how unfair things are to me and that he's trying his best. every time he has said sincere things like this to me, its after he's drank a bunch and reeks of alcohol. he tells me he's sober and he better be sober bc he drove home but it just doesn't feel fully genuine/sincere if he will only say these things after drinking a shit ton. specifically with this situation, it also felt like he said all those things bc he realized that i was leaving without telling him anything. that i made a big decision by myself without letting him know. throughout our entire relationship, he has never had to ask me for information about what im doing. ive always told him my plans or what is going on. so it sort of feels like he saw me making a trip by myself and without telling him and he felt the need to say all those things in response. like that doesn't feel genuine or sincere either if its being said in response to something. i don't know if that's exactly the case of what happened there but many other ppl have pointed it out and have noticed myself too.

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sushiwriterhere · 11 months

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there you are

summary: "It struck you that you wanted Bradley there, that you wanted him to walk into your shared ensuite and see how desperate you were to indulge his fantasy that this entire time, had also been yours." rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x f!reader word count: 6k (this got away from me) warnings: anal (Bradley Bradshaw is an ass man, protected), reader is tipsy/drunk and rooster is sober at one point (both consent!!), oral (f receiving), PiV (unprotected, wrap before you tap irl), nudes are sent, butt plugs, anal fingering, no use of y/n. notes: im very nervous to post this but hoping you all enjoy as much as the first one :,) this all is now its own series/universe, and i'm happy to take requests/asks about these two :) pls let me know what you think!!! my other works are here tagging: @sebsxphia @roosterbruiser @waklman @joaquinwhorres @gretagerwigsmuse - pls let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!

read coming home to you

You weren’t sure how to bring it up to him, but you knew that there were things Bradley was holding back from you. Not in a secretive sense, just in the way that you could tell there were things he wanted that he wasn’t sure how to express.

The way you and Bradley had come together made you believe that he would tell you eventually–he always did. He told you about his mom, about Goose, about the fear in his heart that he might’ve lost Mav too. He told you about how he secretly admired Hangman and that once, just once, they’d gotten absolutely piss drunk together and hashed shit out.

He leaned on you after long days of training and supported you after your hard days at work. It felt right with him.

But you could tell that he was holding back sometimes. To be specific, it was during sex.

Sometimes, when he had you bent over something and was about to press into you, he’d freeze momentarily. There would be a beat of silence, him just holding you open so that he could see everything from that angle, and you could tell he was thinking about pressing into your ass. He never went for it though, and the moment always broke.

To be honest, you hated the idea of and jokes about anal as a gift. All the stupid memes about birthday gifts and anniversary surprises—they made you feel oddly dirty, and not in a good way. Like your desires were to be held inside until they were for someone else’s pleasure. That you were a sexual object above all and things like that could not be desired out of your own will.

Bradley never made you feel like that. You’d had previous boyfriends and hook ups too self involved to focus on you, one even went so far as to try and claim you were lying about not finishing. But Bradley never did. Bradley always indulged you, always tried anything once unless he really didn’t want to, never made you feel like an object.

You’d known he was different from the start, but what had well and truly solidified it was a night a few months back. Bradley and the rest of the Dagger Crew were doing their usual Friday night at the Hard Deck, and you didn’t always tag along but that night you wanted to be surrounded by people, by friends. It had been a long week—trouble at work, a fight with your mom, and too little time spent with your boyfriend during waking hours.

White wine was your poison of choice that night, not really caring that the Hard Deck was an odd place to be drinking wine. Surrounded by fighter pilots and rowdy pool games, you leaned into Bradley, warmed from the inside by the wine and the outside by his body heat.

“Are you sure you want another glass?” Bradley was petting your waist gently as you pouted at him, knowing he was right to urge caution but wanting to indulge.

You nodded in a way that was probably a smidge too enthusiastic for his taste. Never a big drinker, you let yourself have a bit of fun on nights like these. Besides, Bradley was staying sober to drive and you suspected he sort of liked you all giggly and needy.

By the time the night was ending, you were exactly that. He, Phoenix, Bob, and Payback were wrapping up a particularly close game of pool when you felt the sudden need to be with your boyfriend, alone. Never wanting to interrupt his time with friends, you simply let yourself make moon eyes at him. As if he had read your mind, Bradley sank the last ball and announced that you two were heading home for the night.

“Get her home safe, Rooster.” Phoenix was so lovely, it almost made you start crying. Man you really had had too much wine.

You waved enthusiastically as Bradley guided you out of the bar, making sure you were leaning on him, “See you guys later!”

He made sure you were safely buckled before turning on the Bronco, “C’mon little lady, let’s get you home.”

As you drove back to your place, you couldn’t sit still in the passenger seat. First you were content to just look at him, giddy at the fact that you were finally living together and watching as the streetlights shadowed one part of his face and made the other part glow with that hazy orange color. Then, just sitting wasn’t enough. Scootching as close to the center console as your seatbelt would let you, you leaned on your hand to stare at Bradley.

“Got somethin’ on my face?” He asked, shifting in his seat. “You’ve got a dopey look on your mug.”

You knew he was kidding, but you were wine drunk and simply overwhelmed by how much you loved him. You let your lip turn down just a bit, knowing it would get to him. When he saw the frown threatening to crack your love sick expression, he backpedaled immediately.

“Kidding, kidding, babe. I look at you like that all the time.”

Giggling in response, you clutched his bicep gently, “I know,” You whispered conspiratorially, “Bob told me the other day he had to say your name five times to get your attention because you were staring at a picture of me on your phone.”

At that, Bradley flushed lightly. But by that point you had pulled into the driveway and you were ready to just be close to him. Before he managed to get you, you were out of the car and walking yourself to the front door.

He barely caught you around the waist before pulling you to his chest in front of the still locked front door. There was something magical in that moment, just feeling how close he was to you, how warm he was, with the ocean and evening bugs as distant background noise.

“Let’s get you inside, okay?”

When you finally made it inside, you let yourself be overtaken by just how much you wanted Bradley. You made grabby hands at him so he would kiss you and he granted you one briefly before kneeling in the entryway to take your shoes off. He always was a romantic at heart. Standing to his full height, he took your face in his hands to kiss you gently.

Normally you were content to let him press his lips to yours for however long he wanted, but tonight you wanted him, wanted him to let you float as he made you feel good. He didn’t seem at all phased by how needy you were, simply scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

You landed on the bed with a slight oof, and you watched in tipsy arousal as Bradley stripped himself of his Hawaiian button down and the thin white t-shirt he always wore under. He was a sight to behold, as always. Rather than the neatly cut figure of a body builder, Bradley simply looked strong. The kind of strong that carried you when you’d had too much to drink, the kind that built decks and fixed sinks.

He leaned over you and brushed your lips together before flipping you over so that you were bent over the edge of the bed. At that angle, you were basically just free hanging, the tips of your toes brushing the floor. It felt nice, honestly, to be at Bradley’s mercy.

The trust was implicit, you knew he’d take care of you.

He seemed to agree, brushing his fingers down your spine in a way that made you shudder, and kissing down the backs of your thighs and whispering, “I’m gonna take care of you.”

The drag of your panties down your legs seemed to last forever as you panted into the sheets and waited, impatient, for him to finally give you what you wanted. When he finally licked into you, you jerked forward with a strangled moan at the sensation of his tongue flat against your core.

It was electric every time Bradley ate you out. His frat boy aura was deceiving–Bradley was the first man to make you finish every time you were intimate, even if he didn’t. He prioritized your pleasure in a way that somehow felt both dirty and almost feminist.

This time was no different. He went down on you like a man starved, drinking down your arousal and the sounds that left your lips like they were the last meal he’d ever have. The way his tongue circled your clit and eventually covered it so he could suck it into his mouth made your eyes roll back in your head.

You chanted his name as if it was the only word you knew and rocked your hips back into his face. He only encouraged it, his hands coming to rest around the curves of your ass and arching your back just right so he could access all of you with ease.

The wine was still making you feel loose limbed, all your nerve endings singing with pleasure as your dress, that you realized you hadn’t taken off, created a delicious friction between your nipples and the sheets. The room was filled with your panting and whining intermixed with the sounds of Bradley eating you out. It was making your head spin.

Your orgasm hit you in a way that stole all the breath from your lungs. It was all you could do to clutch desperately to the sheets in your fists and move your hips against Bradley’s face as he kept up the way his tongue was moving over your clit. You were half aware of the tears sneaking out of the corners of your eyes from how overwhelmed with pleasure you were.

When you finally came down, for a moment, all you could hear was your own panting as Bradley sat silently behind your spread legs. His thumb dipped into you, collecting your arousal, before moving up, up, up towards your ass. You froze not unlike when one sees a wild animal and tries to not disturb it, body still thrumming with arousal despite your orgasm not even seconds before, just as he reached your other hole. He took your momentary stillness as rejection and clearly changed his mind, and moved it back to where your cum was making a mess of your pussy and the insides of your thighs.

You wanted to whine, to protest even, but it struck you how careful Bradley was. Not that you weren’t a (more than) enthusiastic participant, but he wouldn’t try something new without your vocal and open consent.

So you let him manhandle you gently face up on to the bed, let him pull your sundress off and laugh quietly at you as you covered your chest with a whine when you felt the sudden shock of the cold temperature in the room. Fully stripping, Bradley pressed you into the mattress, covering your body with his so you could feel just how warm he was.

“How are you feeling, babe?” He pulled back to peck you on the nose, a startlingly sweet contrast to the way you could feel just how hard he was against you.

You squirmed happily against the weight of his body, and decided to answer his question a different way, “Want you to fuck me, Bradley.”

The smile that spread over his handsome features made you feel like that first moment when you’d seen him at the Hard Deck, all charm and bravado as he serenaded the room. But even still, it was a look that he saved only for you, so genuine and open. You’d never tell him for fear he might stop, but it made his eyes crinkle slightly unevenly and it endeared you to him even more.

“I can do that,” He breathed against your lips as he tucked one hand around your hips so he could gently turn you over and tuck a pillow under your hips, “Are you okay like this?”

Normally, when more sober, you might’ve had it in you to complain about having to clean the pillow from the mess you’d inevitably make. But in that moment, it made something curl in your chest, the way he could have you basically face-down-ass-up and still be checking in, still making sure you were okay and comfortable. So in response, you simply wiggled your hips at him and whined a bit.

He gave your ass a playful smack which you attempted to return by swatting behind you aimlessly. The tone turned from lighthearted to downright heady when he got a hold of your wrist and used it as leverage to lay his body down against yours. You could feel his cock sliding between your legs, but just not into you, in the most intoxicating way.

“I’ve been thinking about this since we left for the Hard Deck tonight,” He breathed into your ear, “God, you’re always so wet for me.”

When he finally slid into you, the angle made you feel like you could feel him in your chest. Bradley wasn’t breaking any world records (and you really didn’t need him to), but he always felt like he was made just for you. His thickness stretched your walls enough for the burn to fade into pleasure, and his tip always brushed right up against the spot inside you that made you want to wail.

As he rocked into you, you let yourself float, consumed by the physical sensations that were overwhelming you. Bradley was still holding one of your hands, the other wrapped around your waist to press into your abdomen. His chest was plastered to your back, a slightly slick feeling of sweat between you as he rocked his hips into you. And god, every time his hips met yours he rubbed up against that spot inside you and you could feel yourself clench around him.

His pants and moans were all you could hear and you occasionally turned your neck to kiss him messily. It wasn’t about the kiss necessarily, more about needing to feel his lips against yours, no matter how sloppy.

Unlike your first orgasm, when Bradley had seemed almost desperate to push you over the edge with his tongue and fingers, this one crept up on you with the gentle rocking of his hips. It washed over you and you could distantly hear him cursing under his breath as his thrusts became stunted, him chasing his high. When he came, you relished in the feeling of his warmth filling you, and the way he didn’t stop moving his hips, the stunted motions sending waves of slightly overstimulating pleasure radiating through your body.

Pulling out of you, he untangled your limbs so he could make his way to the bathroom and grab something to clean you up with. You let yourself lay there and feel boneless–content, and taken care of.

After the night that Bradley rimmed you, you figured you’d be the one to take the next step. So that was how you found yourself when he was away at work, scrolling through reviews for the best butt plugs and lube instead of working from home. There was a part of you that thought you should be mortified, that part of you that had gone through abstinence only sex education.

The other part of you just couldn’t bring yourself to care. There was a point early on in your relationship with Bradley where you’d discussed your upbringing–not sexually liberated but not exactly quite open about it either. He had revealed that Carole had done her best but sex talks weren’t all that common between the two of them.

Either way, both of you had settled on talking it out. But you wanted to make this step, wanted to make him comfortable after he had clearly been holding out on you.

You had to be slightly sneaky about the online order, and you almost felt bad throughout the next few days about checking through the blinds constantly when the package was supposed to be delivered just to make sure he hadn’t seen. When it did arrive, in a nondescript box with just your mailing address and a random P.O. box return address, you felt relieved.

Despite your agreement, you wanted to figure this first part out for yourself.

You went into the bathroom, stripping and turning on the shower before locating the bottle of lube you had bought back in your bedroom. You removed the plug from where you had stuffed it at the bottom of your underwear drawer, still in its packaging. Unwrapping it, you took it and the lube into the bathroom.

Once the water was hot enough, you stepped under the spray. It relaxed you and you could feel the arousal thrumming through your system. It hadn’t really occurred to you just how badly you wanted to try this until you were right on the precipice of it.

When you were sure you were clean, you squeezed a dollop of lube onto your middle finger and decided to just go for it. The initial push was slightly odd, but you wanted to keep going. It wasn't as good as Bradley’s mouth, that was for sure.

By the time you had worked two fingers into yourself, you had one arm pressed against the wall of the shower for support, and were panting. The sound of you working your fingers into your ass was just barely audible over the water, and it made your chest tighten. Moving your thumb down, you could feel just how aroused you were.

You had never felt so full in your life, and you couldn’t stop the gasps and moans that were leaving your mouth. It struck you that you wanted Bradley there, that you wanted him to walk into your shared ensuite and see how desperate you were to indulge his fantasy that this entire time, had also been yours.

It took everything left in you to slowly slide to your knees, not slip, and maintain one arm on the wall of the shower. The feelings washing over you were so intense it was close to how Bradley rimming you had felt, but stronger. When you came, the groan that escaped you was unbidden.

You kneeled there, trembling from the intensity of your orgasm, grateful for the still running water washing away the mess you had made. But, you knew it wasn’t over yet, as you eyed the plug. It seemed to taunt you to keep going. So you did.

The feeling was odd when you stood, after having worked it into you. You shakily turned off the shower and tried to catch your breath. After tapping your phone, you realized you had around half an hour before Bradley came home and the two of you were supposed to meet up with the rest of the Dagger Squad at the Hard Deck.

Slowly, a half formed idea came into your head. You didn’t usually send Bradley scandalous pictures of yourself, just because of troubles with past boyfriends, but when you did he was like a little kid on Christmas Day (you preferred FaceTime if you could when he was away for long periods). This honestly felt as good a time as any to do something like that. But you also didn’t want to miss out on seeing everyone.

So, you pulled on Bradley’s favorite thong (he never really said it was his favorite, but the excited puppy-dog eyes he gave you whenever you wore it said differently). You could feel the heat rush to your face and flush your chest and neck as you tucked your feet under you and tried to get a good picture that would show just enough to let him know what was going on. It was made worse by the fact that every time you shifted, you were reminded of the plug.

Part of you wondered if you should really be doing this, as you changed into a sundress and tried to maintain composure as you heard the Bronco pull into the driveway. Bradley knew you well, far too well, and he would be able to sus out that something wasn’t like it always was, probably immediately. The thought made you stiffen a bit, but you were in too deep now to back out.

Plus, more than anything, this wasn’t only about him. This was about you. At some point in dating Bradley you had pretty much let go of all the hangups people had tried to teach you in your life, and had just started doing what felt good and what you wanted. Bradley pretty much always responded positively, so why turn back now.

“Babe, I’m home!” Noisy as ever, you could hear him kicking his boots off and the zipper on his flight suit coming down.

Belatedly, you realized you had never put the lube away and you dashed into the bathroom to try and hide it. You were borderline frantic until you managed to stuff it at the bottom of a basket of period products. To be honest, he wouldn’t really care, and he might even ask why you hadn’t told him you wanted it earlier, but you didn’t want the moment to end to soon.

Anticipation was half the fun.

“Babe?” Bradley walked into the bathroom and found you, slightly flushed, slamming a drawer shut.

“Hey, sorry, was in the middle of something.” You tried to relax, and you smiled softly at him, “How was your day?”

He walked over to you and hugged you tightly, still smelling of fuel and sweat, “Good. I’m ready for a cold beer though.”

Ever trying to play normal, you swatted at his chest, “What about hanging out with your lovely girlfriend?”

“Well that,” He wiggled his eyebrows at you before pulling away and starting to undress, “Is a given.”

You left him to shower and get ready but not before wincing slightly when he tapped you gently on the ass. It was barely even a swat, mostly just a movement of habit, and you could see the way his brows furrowed slightly. You could tell he thought about asking, but you told him to get ready before he could act on it.

Honestly, you didn’t wince because it hurt, you did that because it was just so much. Bradley standing so close to you, smelling like fuel and sweat yes, but underneath that something so him and masculine that it made your head spin. He was taller and broader than you and it made you feel weak in the knees. All that in combination with the plug still sitting snug in you made you realize just how wet you were between your thighs.

You knew you were acting slightly weird, and that Bradley had noticed. How could he not? The man seemed to know things about you before you did. But you kept sending him small smiles from where you were standing next to Bob (refusing to sit), and shooting the shit about something stupid Hangman had done earlier that day during training.

Thankfully, the Hard Deck was also incredibly busy, as it always was on a Friday night. There were people everywhere, and the atmosphere was electric. It was enough to at least keep some of Bradley’s attention off you.

Even still, you could feel his attention on you at all times. When someone brushed in front of you and gently nudged you into the chair behind you, he watched as your eyes flew wide open. What he didn’t know was the sensation of the plug jostling inside of you was what made you bite your lip til almost blood to try and hold back a moan.

Bob cast a glance your way, offering his cup of peanuts, “Y’okay? Seem uncomfortable. We can move outside.”

You managed a smile in his direction, “N-No, Bob, that’s okay, thank you though. I think I’m actually going to go to the bathroom.”

While you were making your way to the bathroom, you could feel Bradley’s eyes on you, ever observant. You did your best to avoid the bodies thrumming with energy as they packed tightly together, swaying gently with whatever was playing on the jukebox. The air was heavy and you could hear the ringing of laughter and clinking of glass.

When you finally got into the women’s bathroom, it felt a thousand degrees colder and you sucked in a desperate gasp of air. You didn’t know how much longer you could do this. Every breath you took reminded you of just how full you felt, how long you had been aroused, with your panties sticking to you in the heat.

It was then that you remembered the photo you had taken earlier, and another flare of arousal ran through you. You were white knuckle gripping the edge of the sink and trying to take steady breaths. God, you wanted Bradley so badly.

You decided to throw all caution to the wind and opened your phone. Pressing send before you could change your mind, you made sure to send a simple text beforehand, For your eyes only :).

You knew that as soon as Bradley saw the text, he’d want to leave, so you gave yourself a few seconds more relishing the atmosphere of the Hard Deck outside the bathroom doors.

Except, when you got back to the pool table, Bradley seemed unphased. You could see his phone peeking out of his back pocket as he stretched long and lean across the table. Settling back in next to Bob, he threw a charmed smile at you.

“Feeling okay now?” God, you could always count on Bob to be a sweetheart.

“Yeah, thanks Bob.” You could still feel the way your sweat was beading on your lower back.

Bradley shot a look in your direction as they finished the game up with Phoenix making the winning move, and he pulled his phone out. You froze in place as you watched him flick his thumb up to look at the notifications that had been piling up all evening. The way the blood rushed to his face, rising to the tops of his cheeks from where you knew it started on his chest.

He cleared his throat once, then once again. He then shifted slightly, before setting his cue stick against the wall.

“We’re uh, we’re gonna head home.” Bradley said, not particularly trying to reach above the noise.

“Quitting on us so soon, Rooster?” Hangman flashed a shit-eating grin, “Chickening out?”

“Got more important things to do than watch you chase tail, Bagman.” Bradley seemed to have regained his composure, and he took you by the hand.

You waved just a little before letting Bradley drag you out of the bar. He was almost entirely silent while he opened the door and helped you into the Bronco. Just like on the way to the Hard Deck, you did your best to hide the way sitting for the ride home made you feel.

When you pulled into the parking lot, you couldn’t handle the silence anymore, “Did you–Did you like the picture?”

Bradley turned the car off, and turned to face you, the look on his face half tortured half aroused, “You’re going to kill me one day if you keep doing stuff like that.”

“So, no?” You suddenly felt shy with his eyes directly on you.

“Babe...” And then he was climbing out, and helping you out only to press you up against the still warm door, “It took everything in me not to lean you over that pool table. When did you take that?”

You swallowed hard, trying not to squirm too hard in his hold, “When I tell you, you won’t want to be outside where the neighbors can see.”

He pulled back as if burned, then pulled you towards the house. Getting in was a rush of keys and him trying to keep his hands off you. When you finally stumbled through the door he was on you in an instant, all grabby hands and lips on your neck.

“Will you answer me now?” His knee was between your thighs, holding you up against the door.

All that you could manage was a high keening noise, swallowing hard. You felt like you were going to explode if you didn’t get him in you that second.

“I didn’t hear a response, baby.” Bradley now had you in his arms and was walking you both to the bedroom, palming your ass.

You shivered, thinking about what his reaction would be, “Before you came home. Was hiding the lube when you walked in the door.”

The groan you received in response was enough to light your bones on fire, and he set you down on the bed face down and lifted your hips slightly. The sundress you were wearing wasn’t terribly short by any means, but when bent over like that it wasn’t hiding much.

He was panting like he had just run a marathon as he pushed the hem of your dress over your hips, “Jesus Christ, baby. Did you do this for me? You didn’t have to, I–”

Before he could continue, before he could try and take some sort of faux-responsibility for pressuring you somehow, you cut him off, “Did this for me; want you, Bradley. Want you to fuck me in the ass, please. Don’t even want you to go down on me or anything just, please.”

“Where is the lube?” His voice was strained, the grip on the back of your thighs like iron.

“Left lower drawer in the bathroom, under all my stuff.”

Bradley was off you in an instant, stripping as he went into the bathroom to search for the hidden bottle. Meanwhile, you pulled off your sundress, but left your thong on, something in your gut telling you he would want to be the one to take that off.

When he returned, you were kneeling on the bed, blinking at him expectantly. He was almost open mouth gawking at you, and he kneeled too, just below eye level.

“I want to make sure this is,” He swallowed harshly, interrupting himself, “I never want to make you feel like you have to do something like this for me.”

“Bradley, baby,” You stroked a hand gently down his cheek, “You have never made me feel anything but wanted, cherished, and loved. I did this because I wanted to, because I want you.”

Taking his face fully in your hands, you pressed your lips to his before he pulled back to say hoarsely, “I love you so goddamn much.”

“I love you too. Now would you please fuck me.”

At that, he laughed quietly until he stopped when you started tugging at the briefs hugging his hips, leaning forward to mouth at his hardening cock, “Baby, please, I–I won’t last if you do that.”

Wordlessly, you turned over to signal your agreement, and you heard him shift behind you to push a pillow under your hips and thumb at the waistband of your thong. Scooping your hips up, he dragged it down your legs and sucked in a harsh breath at the sight of you.

You whined when he used his hands to spread your cheeks and thumb at the plug still firmly nestled in you. A broken groan left you when he twisted it slightly and you could hear him muttering profanity under his breath–something about going to hell being well worth it.

When he pulled the plug out, you felt empty until one lube slicked finger entered you. You hissed at the coolness of it, and Bradley pressed a kiss into your thigh in apology. Then one finger turned into two, then three. The entire time, you were getting more and more worked up, rocking back against his fingers and letting little cries leave you.

“More, Bradley, more, please.”

He shushed you, “I know, sweetheart, I know, you gotta let me get you ready.”

“I’m ready, baby please.” You had been waiting long enough.

You heard the ripping of the foil of a condom and then his cock was right up against you. Bradley had one hand steadying himself on your waist, the other guiding his blunt head into you. When he finally pressed into you, it made your head swim with how full you felt. His breath was ragged behind you and his length seemed to never end.

Pitiful whines escaped you as he rocked into you, and you could feel the excess lube dripping down your thighs and onto the bed below you. The moment his hips pressed flush to yours, you let a moan unlike anything else escape you.

“Fuck, baby, I’m not going to last long, you’re so fucking tight.”

The hand that was holding your hip reached down to stroke over your clit and you bucked your hips up and clenched around him. When he started thrusting, you could tell neither of you were going to last long at all.

It was an almost out of body experience as Bradley rocked his cock into your ass and leaned over to press his body flush against yours. His lips were brushing the shell of your ear, chanting about how tight you were, how good you were to him, how much he loved you–and it was all too much.

You had never felt so full, it was almost hard to breathe. You had imagined this with him, so many times, but that could never hold a candle to the real thing. The way your fingers had felt sliding in and out of you paled in comparison to his cock, pressing into you just right.

You came when he reached under your chest to play with your nipples and you bucked wildly under him, feeling like something was exploding in your sternum. For a moment, everything whited out and all you could feel was how heavy Bradley was in your ass, how hot his body was pressed up against you, and just how wet you were.

He came soon after with a groan, his hips stuttering into yours, finger still rubbing your clit in a steady rhythm in a way that made your head spin.

The two of you lay there, Bradley ever so slightly holding his weight off of you with one elbow, just panting and taking in what had happened. He pulled out and you hissed, pressing your face into the mattress and letting the sheets absorb the sweat that had built up on your hairline.

He pet your lower back softly, “You doing okay?”

You turned to him with a wicked smile, “We better have some of that lube left, Bradley Bradshaw.”

The reaction on his face was priceless, “You cannot just say shit like that to me, give me a goddamn minute.”

You giggled just a bit but let yourself sink into the mattress, his signal to get up and start cleaning up. He stood with a groan, and pulled the condom off, the snapping sound echoing slightly around the bedroom. You could feel lube and arousal still leaking down your thighs, but you ignored it in favor of turning onto your side and watching Bradley shuffle around the bathroom.

“Hey baby,” He murmured when he came back, kneeling down to clean up between your legs, “How is the best girlfriend in the world doing?”

You wiggled your hips happily, “Good. How’s the best boyfriend in the world doing?”

“I’ll be sure to ask when I meet him.” He laughed quietly under his breath, and you smiled gently at him.

Reaching up to pet his face, you smoothed your thumb over his cheekbone, “You know I love you right? More than anything in the world.”

“I love you too.”

With that, he helped you stand to go to the bathroom. Once in there, you two shuffled through your nighttime routine, playfully jostling each other and him eventually tucking you into his side so he could kiss the top of your head.

Climbing under clean sheets (Bradley had insisted before letting you get back into bed, claiming that they were far too gross), felt like sliding into heaven. With Bradley there next to you, you felt safe and loved, and you were sure you never wanted to be anywhere else.

#top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #no use of y/n #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster x reader #top gun: maverick fanfiction #coming home to you universe

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ohmuqueen · 4 years

Text

me: *finds a FighterTutor established relationship rated E 4k fic published fucking yesterday on ao3*

me: *reads the first few paragraphs*

me: *has to stop because I’m literally too excited*

me: *gets another drink to prepare*

seriously me rn:

I GOTTA SAVOR THIS FAM

this is the fic

This is the first damn paragraph:

“Fighter loves Tutor with his whole heart. He sometimes feels eaten up by it, like there's not enough space in his body to contain it. As if he could burst from it, sometimes, if he can't show Tutor how much he loves him.”

#why r u the series #why r u #why r u? the series #fightertutor #tutorfighter #tutor x fighter #fighter x tutor #wru t #ftttsmut #my poor old shipper heart cant take it #tired writer not sober #its friday im never sober on friday

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tendossidepiece · 2 years

Text

bong water

stoner!iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

MDNI | 18+

2.76k words (after revision)

CW: unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), creampie, praise, substance use (alcohol/weed), strangers to fwb kinda, reader is kind of a dickhead but he likes it

author’s note: okay ik im like 3 days late with this but let me tell y’all there were so many problems with this fic that i had to fix. genuinely embarrassed that i was able to write such a monstrosity to begin with. i basically rewrote the whole thing and i’m honestly still not satisfied but i think i’ve improved over the year since i wrote it. anyways i hope it’s enjoyed!

You followed the man up the stairs. You never thought this was how your Friday night would end up. You were walking up the rickety stairs of a trashed frat house, at 12 o’clock in the morning. People flooded the downstairs area, dancing to whatever the DJ was mixing, and drinking cheap liquors.

“Well, I guess it’s actually Saturday” you chucked to yourself, a tad under the influence of a few cups of jungle juice. You were sober enough to know this is what you wanted to do though, this man was fine as hell.

Your friends had suggested going to the party together and you figured why not be a little spontaneous and go out, instead of staying in and studying like you normally would be found doing. They were away getting drinks when you left and you doubted they saw you slip away with the dark-haired stranger, so to set their nerves you sent them a quick text to let them know you were safe and would be back before the end of the party. By the time you finished sending the message, you both were at the top of the stairs.

“Bored with me already?” He looked at you over his shoulder as he guided you to–what you assumed was–his room.

“No, no. I was letting my friend know I was alive” you chuckled, trying to assure him you were interested in him. Why wouldn’t you be? He was an attractive man, standing about a foot taller than you, with a toned face and body, and delicious dark brown hair and eyes. Maybe it was the alcohol but you really needed your back broken. You knew exactly what would go down when he’d asked you to go upstairs and smoke with him, and you were looking forward to what would go down once you stepped foot in that room.

“Hajime Iwaizumi'' he spoke as the two of you took a seat on the futon that sat in the corner of the room.

“Nice to know” you chuckled at his announcement, you weren’t necessarily interested in exchanging information. This would be a one-and-done type thing. He looked like the kind of man who wanted women to be obsessed with him, very much full of himself.

“Ladies first” he politely passed you the bong he had pulled from beside the bed. You had watched him pack the bowl full of the pungent herb, praying it wasn’t any reggie.

“How about we share” you brought the mouthpiece up to your lips and the lighter to the tightly-packed bowl. The flame spread across the herb and inhaled as much as ou could, the thick smoke to filling your lungs. You handed the glass piece back to him and he placed it on the wooden TV tray sitting next to him. You motioning him closer to you, bringing your hand up to hold his scruffy chin and pull him towards you. He let you manuver him so that his lips could hoover right above yours as you used your thumb to slightly part him lips.

“Inhale” you spoke softly as not to waste and smoke until he were ready to inhale it. Closing your eyes, he pulled the smoke from your pursed lips. You could feel as the the weed began taking its effects, making you feel slightly light headed as it mixed with the alcohol already in your system.

“And that’s why ladies always go first” he chuckled, looking over at you with half-lidded eyes as he coughed out a cloud of smoke. You could see a blush creep up his cheeks under the blue LED lights that lined the bedroom, making you giggle.

“I’m a good time, what can I say?” you feigned a more cocky attitude, playing it up with a sly smile.

“I see, another one?” Hajime looked over at you, holding the bong up again.

“Why not?” you shrugged, waiting as he took a long pull from it. Once he set it down, he patted his lap for you to sit on. Taken aback by his sudden forwardness, you complied and swung your legs on either side of his so that you were straddling him.

Once you were seated comfortably, his hands began to explore your body, slowly moving up your thighs, over your ass, and finally settling on your waist. Arching your back to move further into him, your lips remained a short distance from his to allow him to exhale the smoke into yours.

“Shit, I might have to keep you around” his eyes were glued to the clevage revealed by your low-cut top as you blew out the remaining smoke. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his possessiveness, but you were too smart to fall for his tricks, he probably said this to every girl he brought up here.

“If I choose to stay,” you were being truthful, but a part of you wanted him to beg you to stay.

“Oh shut up” his tone was playful but his voice was barely above a whisper, eyes darting from yours then down to your lips. Leaning into you, he closed the gap between your bodies, with his lips melting into your own.

Hajime’s hand roamed your body, traveling under your shirt to cup your breasts and run his palms over them. You felt a tug on the hem of your shirt, indicating he wanted the fabric removed. He quickly lifted the shirt over your head, leaving your chest exposed and wasted no time admiring the sight before him.

The muffled music coming from the speakers downstairs offering a hard bass permeating the bedroom walls, coming in as soft vibrations. Hajime continued his exploration of your body and you ran your fingers through his hair, tugging at the dark strands, earning a soft groan. You began grinding your hips onto the hardness restricted in his black jeans. His hands moved from your breasts down to squeeze at your ass, slipping into your pants and playing with the waistline of your panties. The friction against your clothed core was a sensation that had you begging for more.

Disconnecting your lips from his, you removed yourself from Hajime’s lap and crouched down between his legs. Palming at the growing bulge in his pants, you unfastened the button and zipper, pulling down his pants and leaving him sitting on the futon in a pair of grey briefs. He leaned back on his elbows, watching as you freed his member, letting it come up and slap against his lower abdomen. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, scanning over his length and taking in how pretty he was. You took his length into your hands, wrapping both around his shaft and swirling your tongue around the tip. Drool slipped from your tongue down the entirety of him, serving as a lubricant while your hands twisted side to side, up and down. Strings of curses fell from his lips as he threw his head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re good at that” his voice was breathy and his moans made your arousal pool in your panties, leaving you a throbbing mess. You looked up at him through thick lashes, having reduced him to a panting mess. To push him closer to his climax, you let his tip hit the back of your throat and let it sit there as you licked at the underside of his dick. Tears quickly coming to prick at your eyes as you gagged slightly on his girth. Your saliva pooled around his crotch, coating his cock and making it easier to maneuver your hands. Lapping up the mess you made as it mixed with his precum, the urge to have him inside of you festered.

Hajime sat up, his movements making you pause as he took your hand in his, pulled you back onto your feet, letting his hands run along your body. He reached behind you to unbuckled your bra, allowing it to fall down your arms and finally hit the floor. He took both of your exposed breasts into his hand and pulled himself closer to place one of your nipples in his mouth. His soft tongue ran over the stiff bud making you shiver as the sensation, while his other hand pinched on your other one. Looking up at you from his seat, he nibbled on your nipple, making you squeak out a noise similar to a moan.

Continuing to suckle at your nipple, he slid a hand down to your pants, tugging them down for you to step out of. His fingers hooked into the seat of your panties, pulling them to the side to drag his index finger along your soaked lips, landing on your clit. Pressing down on it, he drew quick circles to stimulate you as much as possible.

“Hajime please” you pleaded him to continue his effors as your eyes rolled back.

“Please what?” he wanted you to beg him, now looking up at you through his own eyelashes. As much as you enjoyed a flirty back and forth, now wasn’t the time.

“I need you to fuck me” you pled, legs starting to shake as he continued his assault on your clit and you looked down at him. He removed his hand and traded places with you on the futon. He now stood behind you while you bent over, ass up face down in the mattress. He kept one hand on your waist and the other pumping his length and spreading his precum down it. Stroking himself at the sight of you bent over in front of him felt like a dream, all wet and ready to take his cock. Placing his tip against you and slowly pushing himself inside you. He bottomed out against your soft spot, letting out a gruff moan feeling your plush walls squeeze him. The sensation of his tip resting against that spot deep within your pussy pulled a string of obsenities from your throat. The stretch of his cock gave off a pleasant burn as he thrust into you. His hands kept a firm lock on your ass, occasionally massaging and kneading at it as it bounced against him with every stroke.

“God, yes!” your voice was a few octaves under a scream. Between the weed, the jungle juice, and the backshots your mind had run blank. You were just happy you’d decided to go out tonight.

With one of your arms folded under your forehead for support, you reached under you playing with your clit. Quick circular motions with your index and middle fingers brought you closer to your release. Your pussy pulsated around his cock, causing him to groan and pick up the pace of his attack. He reached forward, pulling you back towards him by your throat, putting his chin in the crook of your neck and running his tongue up the side of your neck. Once he reached your ear, he pressed his lips against the outer shell and whispered softly, “on your back, please, and thank you.”

His raspy voice made you tremble under his grasp, but you followed his directions compliantly. Hajime took your legs, placing them over his broad shoulders, essentially folding you in half. He slid his drooling tip over your puffy clit, which produced a moan from you. He quickly reinserted himself into your messy cunt and bottomed out on the first thrust.

“How are you still so tight?” Hajime groaned, thighs shaking as his climax approached him. At that point, you were a babbling mess, eyes rolled back and your mouth hung open, panting like dog. This new position he had put the two of you in gave him easy access to your abused g-spot.

As your legs grew weaker, you let them come down and wrap around his waist. Grabbing his face with both hands, you pulled him down to kiss you. His arms caged your head as his mouth found its way to your neck. Sucking and biting on the skin, he intended to leave any kind of mark possible. The feeling of his warm breath against your neck made goosebumps errupt along your chest and shoulders.

“I want everyone to know what you got into when you go back down there” he growled into your ear, delivering several particularly rough thrusts, making you throw your head back as the pain mixed with the immense amounts of pleasure. Two can play at that game, you thought to yourself. Lowering his face towards yours, turning his head and repeating his actions against his jaw. Trailing sloppy kisses down his neck, licking and sucking at the soft skin, making sure to leave a few bright purple marks. Between his groaning, your stifled moans, and the loud slaps of his pelvis against the skin of the back of your thighs, no one heard the door opening.

“I wonder if he’s up here” you heard the voice of another man entering the room, he stopped mid-sentence upon seeing the two of you. Hajime’s head snapped towards the door, making direct eye contact with the man.

“Get the fuck out Tooru!” He barked at the bewildered brunette standing in the doorway.

“He’s up here in my room with a girl!!” he turned back to yell at whoever he was talking to, you remained tucked under Hajime, afraid to flash his friend if you stood up. You took a quick glance at the man who you could only assume was one of his frat brothers, you’d seen him before on campus.

“Oikawa, you got 3 seconds to get out before I kick your ass” he growled at him, shooting daggers with his eyes.

“This is my room, thank you very much, Iwa. I need my bong, Issei dared Kindaichi to chug the water because I never clean that thing” he laughed, obviously less phased by the two of you fucking in his bed. Without changing positions, Hajime reached down beside the futon, grabbing the bong and shoving it in Oikawa’s direction.

“Take it and get out!” He shouted, still looking at his friend.

“Thank you kindly. It was nice to meet you ma’am, please don’t get any…fluids on my bed” he paused, getting a little awkward at the end of his sentence. He left immediately after grabbing the bong, slamming the door behind him as he walked out.

“I’m so sorry about that” Hajime laid face down on your bare chest, as you started laughing. You stayed silent throughout the entire interaction but after replaying it in your mind, it was too funny to go unnoticed.

“Your friends seem fun, Iwa” your laughter died down as you looked up at him, a smile growing on his face hearing you mock the way his friend addressed him.

“They’re…interesting, but we can talk about ‘em later. Back to business” A devilish smile played across his mouth and his aura intensified.

Before you could even get a word out, he was back to delivering those same mind-numbing strokes. Your toes curled and nails dug into the rippling muscles of his back, pure filth spewed from your mouth.

“Gonna cum. Don’t stop” you whined, gripping at his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself.

“Cum for me, princess” the growl in his throat was near primitive as he ravished you. Your body shook under him as he guided you to your release, hearning him huff an feeling his hips shutter as he finally reaching his orgasm. Coming down from your high, you could feel his warm load paint your walls.

“You’re a piece of work” he exhaled, obviously tired from all the energy he exerted. You laughed at him as he dramatically flopped back on the mattress. Finally regaining some strength, you both began to get redressed.

“Well that was wonderful Mr. Hajime, but I gotta go find my friends” you pulled your underwear up, knowing his cum would ruin them but not caring in the moment. Thank god for birth control because neither of you were thinking straight going into this without using any protection.

“You don’t think I’m just gonna let you leave without giving me your number, do you?” he spoke, head down as he tied his sneakers but glancing up to see you hand him your phone,

“I’ll text you when I’m ready” you bent down, grabbing his cheeks in one hand to make his lips pucker and kissing him before walking out the door. Never in his life had he really had to chase a girl, the man was too stunned to speak.

#iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut #haikyuu college au

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mxchellesworld · 3 years

Text

Discuss!

Spencer Reid x Reader

Synopsis; Where the team discusses the question ‘do you kiss after head’, you find out Spencer has too little experience to answer the question so you help him out

Warnings; smut, oral (male receiving), sub!spencer, praise, slight degradation

a/n; LMAO im so sorry for disappearing again life has been actually kicking my ass but anyways lately i’ve been thinking about subby early season spence so here we go,, hope you enjoy!

***

Another Friday night and the team was out bar crawling after an easy case. But this time all members were there as it reached 11pm which was rare. Usually Hotch and JJ would have been home by 10:30 and Spencer wouldn’t have been there at all. But there was something light in the air which had all parties concerned sitting packed in a booth, laughing after each sip of their drinks.

Since it wasn’t your first rodeo together you knew how the night went. It started off with Rossi offering to buy the first few rounds, always whiskey but he made an exception for Penelope. Then again who would deny her anything.

Once the drinks were flowing and lips got a little loose, the questions would start popping in at the top of your heads. However these were not your run of the mill, ‘hows so and so doing?’ ‘done your taxes yet?’ oh no. The name of the game was discuss where you would all think of a question which would help you dig just a tiny bit deeper into your coworkers sex lives.

Maybe if you were all sober then you’d avoid thinking of each other in such positions, pun intended, yet in this state your prying minds were open and your stomachs were ready to grow abs from bending over in laughter.

You raised the margarita glass up clinking it with a fork to get the tables attention. Everyone including Aaron had a smile on their face, ready to hear the intrusive question for the night.

“Ok my fellow profilers, doctor, and tech genius,” you added pointing at Spencer then Pen, “Do you kiss your partner after they give you head? Discuss!” you finished in your most formal voice.

Right as you took a swig of your drink the mixed responses of yes and no filled your small space.

“Why wouldn’t you? You guys especially, if someones willingly trying to swallow then you damn well owe them a kiss,” Emily finished earning nods and ‘exactly’s from JJ, Pen, and yourself.

“Ok but thats weird. I just can’t explain it but its a no go for me,” Morgan finished. This only gained him a scoff and raised voices, “Hotch man help me out here,” he said looking over to the man hiding his smirk behind the amber liquid.

“I have to agree with the ladies here Derek,” he said curtly.

The girls yelped and hooted at Hotch for siding with them while Morgan sat with his arms crossed being the singular person left out as even Rossi agreed. Meanwhile you noticed the presence next to you had shrunk back and wasn’t too active in the conversation.

“So Spence do you kiss your partner after they,” you trailed off shaking your fist by your cheek and poking your tongue in the side.

He coughed as he instantly sat up quicker. Even under the dim lights of the bar you could still see the blush creeping up from his neck to his ears and the slightest tint on his cheeks.

“Oh I uh- I never-” he said looking anywhere but your eyes.

“You don’t kiss them?” you said raising your brows.

“No! I-i mean yes. I would I think b-but I haven’t had the chance to actually partake in such.. activities,” he finished finally taking a look into your eyes.

You could tell he was waiting for you to laugh in his face for being so inexperienced but you felt far from it. If anything you wished you could be the one to show him things.

That sweet boy had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even know it. Maybe it was his naivety considering how exceptionally smart he was. Or maybe it was the cute sweater vests he wore and now he nervously tucked his hair behind his ears. All you knew was that you wanted Spencer Reid and tonight was your night to make it happen.

You hummed taking in the information, “Well that’s not a bad thing Spence. Everything takes time,” you said putting your hand on his arm for comfort and giving him a smile.

Going to turn back to face the table you almost didn’t hear Spencer go to speak again, “Do you?”

Got him.

“Why don’t you find out pretty boy,” you said with a wink as you downed the rest of your marg. In the corner of your eye you could see Spencer shifting in his seat, subtly moving his bag to cover the slowly growing tent in his slacks.

As the night went by you couldn’t help but really give him a show. You had popped open a button or two on the long sleeve you had on, since it was getting stuffy in the booth. Though when you leaned forward and jutted your chest out, the soft inhale of a breath from the man next to you was just serving as motivation to get bolder.

For the last hour you called it quits on the alcohol and drank a few glasses of water before you drove home. Spencer had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since your little interactions.

The team had all gotten up to say their goodbyes. Rossi going by and giving everyone a kiss on each cheek. Derek having to quite literally rangle Penelope from talking to passing by groups on their way out. Then there were two.

You turned to the side where Spencer was nursing on his coke, “Hey pretty boy, it’s late, let me give you a ride home,” you said grabbing your belongings.

“Y-yeah ok. Thanks Y/n,” he said getting up. You’d noticed how he still had the burnt orange bag over his crotch. He couldn’t still be hard could he? Well you’d love to find out.

As gentlemanly as he was, Spencer opened the door for you to exit the building first. The whip of fresh night air cooling on your exposed chest and legs under your skirt.

You unlocked your car and stepped in, Spencer waiting to hear the little beep signaling his side was open. As he sat down you heard him let out a little whimper. Your head shot over to look at him, you could tell from the flush on his cheeks he didn’t mean to let the noise out.

Holding in your chuckle you started the ignition and pulled out of the lot, “Can I put on some music?”

“Yeah I don’t mind,” he said looking over at you with his lips in a line. If it was anyone else, they’d probably think he was uncomfortable but you loved his tiny awkward smiles.

The ride to his apartment was mostly silent besides a rare quip from Spencer about paper work or fact about an older building you had passed by. It fascinated you to no end hearing him talk. Spencer was a hand speaker, meaning he always used his hands waving them around and making gestures. The pale digits had you captivated. Probably a driving hazard but you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

You pulled up into one of the visitor spots and put the car in park. You looked over to see Spencer almost contemplating something. You’d seen the look on his face before when he was looking over puzzles.

“Somethin on your mind Doc?” you said with a small smile. As cute as he looked when he was nervous, you’d never want him to feel uncomfortable around you.

“Would you-,” he cleared his throat, “Wo- Would you maybe want to c-come inside?”

“Of course Spence I’d love to,” you finished with a reassuring nod.

As he led you upstairs you were giddy with anticipation. So what if nothing happened. He was your friend first and you were glad he was letting you into his personal space. Even if you wanted nothing more than to have him writhi-

“Y/n?”

The door closing snapped you out of your thoughts. You didn’t even realize you were in his living room. The dark green walls and shelves bursting with books put a grin on your face, “Sorry Doc, just caught up in my thoughts. What did you say hun?”

His brows practically raised to his hairline from hearing the pet name. While he was used to the names coming from Garcia they took a whole different light coming from your lips.

“I was asking if you wanted water or something,” he said fiddling with the keys in his hands. Eyes darting everywhere but your face so you wouldn’t be able to see the flush rising on his cheeks.

“No I’m fine thanks for asking though,” you said taking a seat on the worn leather couch.

You reached for the tv remote making a face at Spencer to ask for permission. He nodded and you settled back turning on an old sitcom that played late at night.

As the episode ended you both sat in silence. Again you didn’t mind but you could practically hear the cogs moving in Spencer’s brain.

You were about to speak when he cut you off before you could even get a word out, “What did you mean by ‘why don’t you find out’.”

Gaining confidence you moved closer to where he was on the couch, slow enough for him to stop you in case he wanted to back out.

“Well you have options pretty boy,” you said moving a leg to straddle him. Your hands instinctively going to his brown locks. You could’ve sworn you heard a little moan leave his chapped lips. Noted.

“W-what are the options,” lust blown eyes looked up to yours.

“One, you can put that mouth to good use on me,” you said trailing your finger over his bottom lip, “and let me cum over that pretty face.”

His eyes shut hearing your words and you weren’t having it, “Nuh uh eyes on me honey,” instantly they were back on yours.

“Or number two. I can suck you off and let you cum down my throat, but,” you paused making sure to roll your hips on his growing length, “ you have to give me a nice big smooch after.”

The hands on your hips pulled you closer as he bucked his hips into you as you finished the sentence. It was clear which option was preferred.

You moved to slide down in between his legs. You let your hands trail down his clothed thighs, causing him to jump.

“Tsk such a needy boy,” you said mockingly, “Am I not going fast enough baby?”

“Please Y/n,” he all but whimpered. It was like music to your ears.

Your hands went to his belt, looking up in his eyes for a final sign of permission. Once he nodded you quickly undid it and he lifted his hips to help get his pants down. You palmed him over his boxers, feeling the wet patch where he was already leaking pre cum.

“Is this all for me Spence? Does the thought of my lips around you make you this hard,” you said taking him out of the striped confines.

“Oh god please just,” he cut himself off. You could see his hands curling fists besides his legs.

“Please what baby? I can’t give you anything unless you ask.” Your hands continued their task of leisurely stroking his length.

“Fuck please put your mouth on me,” he rushed out, hips bucking to prove his point.

The answer was good enough for you so you wasted no time in leaning forward and taking him in your mouth. Both of you let out content sighs as you tried to take him further.

You looked up to see him with his head leaned back, eyes scrunched closes in pleasure.

You pulled off with a pop, letting your hand work him over. “Better keep those pretty eyes on me before I decide you can’t finish.”

He looked down with a flash of worry, that was quickly replaced by a loud moan as you spit down on his cock before taking him in your mouth again.

For a germaphobe, Spencer loved how nasty it was. He was thanking god or whatever higher being there was for giving him his eidetic memory because the sight below him was something he’d never wanna forget.

Your eyes were teary and you had spit dribbling down your chin but he wanted nothing more than to give you more than just a kiss after you finished. Or well after he finishes.

You could tell he was close by the way he was throbbing on your tongue. Again taking him out of your mouth you used both hands to jerk him off.

“You’re doing such a good job baby. So good for me. You wanna cum in my mouth pretty boy?”

“God Y/n I’m so close please please please,” he whimpered out.

“Cum for me baby, be my good boy Spence,” you said before taking him down your throat. He was big, not girthy but long and it was a struggle but you’d be damned if you didn’t try to take him all.

Hollowing your cheeks you bobbed your head quickly, egging on his release further. His hands finally found a place in the back of your head. Pushing you down further as he came.

“F-fuck Y/n I’m gonna”

His moans and whines were a symphony of sounds you’d have on repeat in your head forever.

You swallowed the salty release but before you could even wipe your lips you were being pulled up by Spencer placing his lips on yours. You moaned into the kiss, his hands gripped the sides of your face not wanting to let you go.

The need for air made you both pull back. You looked at one another, chests heaving and looking like you ran a marathon.

Then a sad look came across his face.

“Spencer what’s wrong?”

“You didn’t get any pleasure,” he said looking like a hurt puppy. Oh your sweet boy.

“It’s ok baby, I can take care of myself,” you tried to shrug off.

He was quick to push you back on the couch, taking the spot you were previously in. His warm lips trailing down your exposed thighs.

“I wanna do it, but only if you kiss me after.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid fic #mgg fanfiction #mgg smut #mgg x reader #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #sub!spencer #chellewrites

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duckugou · 3 years

Text

@ my worst (nsfw)

Iwaizumi x fem!reader

cw: ANGST as hell, smut, bathroom sex, public sex, unprotected sex, biting, marking vaguely, toxic relationship, toxic friendship. just toxic all around, theyre like 24 lmao

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

!!come to my asks to be a part of my taglist! just let me know what kinds of fics/ what fandom/ what characters/ etc you want to be tagged in! Requests are open!!!!

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He finds solace in burying himself in someone new once things get too committed with his current fling.

You find solace in being used by the man you love the most.

"maybe im the best mistake you ever made. sounds so fuckin beautiful when you say my name."

Every friday night, he found himself clung to your side in your bed after he stumbled there from the club. You left the door unlocked for him, knowing what he would end up doing. Even if it killed you.

He smelled like a different girl whenever he laid with you. Some times it was cheap vanilla. Other times it was a more expensive floral. Either way, it was always subtly masked by the smell of his sweat.

You couldn't help but find yourself feeling at home due to the subtle scent of him. You allowed yourself to lay on his chest while he murmured that you were the best thing to ever happen to him.

During his sober hours, he was the sweetest. He never gave a second thought when it came to giving you the world. Coffee in the mornings, memes sent to your phone during work hours to cheer you up, and dinner at night. It was a dream. It was amazing bliss for both of you- until anyone brought it up.

"maybe im the worst, the worst you ever had. tell you youre beautiful then stab you in the back."

"Damn! Flowers, huh? You finally decide to lock her down or what, Iwa?" Oikawa asked, making the both of your heads whip around to him as everyone in the crew approached.

This sentence made both of you want to puke.

He wanted to puke because commitment scared him shitless. He didn't know how to be with just one person, even if you had his heart in full. He didn't want to disappoint you in the long run and hurt you more than everything hes done combined.

You wanted to puke because you knew what comes next. Every time someone brings it up to him- that you two should date and are basically a couple. He would distance himself more and more each time. 'here comes the hurt' you thought to yourself.

"No, what the fuck- why do you always ask that? What I cant be nice to my friend?" Iwaizumi asked, flustered and red.

"You never give me flowers!" Oikawa said, jokingly holding his heart in fake pain.

"Yeah because you fucking suck." He said, looking back to you and the flowers he bought from the lady on the street corner. "These- a lady was selling them and I felt bad, ok? Dont like- I'm not- It's not like that." He stuttered out, shattering your heart all over again.

"I know." You respond, defeated.

"Right. Well, I gotta go." He wiped his hands on his jeans, looking towards the exit.

"What? You just got here-" Oikawa began, getting interrupted.

"Yeah, forgot about a previous uh- responsibility. I'll see you all later." He brushed his friend off, walking out, not looking back at you.

You eyes would've filled with tears had this been one of the first times, but it wasnt. A sigh leaving your mouth, you sent a glare to Oikawa and shoved the flowers to his chest.

"Why do you always have to bring that shit up?" You ask harshly.

"You two obviously like each other- its so stupid."

"It's also none of your business." You sighed.

----

"dont try to call, do not disturb, i do not want to speak."

Walking back to his place, Iwaizumi knew his friends were right. Y/n was someone he should 'lock down'. Nobody has ever understood him the way she did. Nobody else takes time with him like her.

But that's the scariest part. If he was to commit to her, he multiplies the chance of her being crushed by him by 100. And he couldn't live with that.

So he decided to do what he did best. Push her away again.

----

"the more you try to fix me the more you make it worse."

Friday came along sooner than she thought it would. The days of the week passed by with no contact from Iwa. Y/n shouldn't be surprised. The longest he went was 2 and a half weeks and its only been 4 days. Sure he would hold out even longer this time, she began to think about how easy her life would be without him. Without loving him.

But it was too easy to love him when things were good. He was perfect for her- he just can't see it.

This pattern has made her numb. It hurts every single time she gets close to him again. She finds herself missing his scent on her sheets and realizes how awful the situation is- and will continue being- if she doesnt change something herself. She couldnt keep depending on him to crawl back to her apologizing- because what if he doesnt this time?

Getting up from the couch and brushing her stray tears away, Y/n decided to have a trial run of sorts. 'Lets see what life would be like without him for real' she thought to herself.

Sitting in front of her vanity, Y/n took in her disheveled appearance. This is what he reduced her to, and he didn't show any signs of caring or stopping the pattern.

Standing up and letting go of a deep breath she didn't know she was holding, Y/n walked to the bathroom to shower. Tonight would be the night things changed.

Right?

----

Walking into the club with her wallet and phone in hand, Y/n looked around, taking in her unfamiliar surroundings- fighting the urge to turn and run out.

Once she sat at the bar, Y/n felt a little more comfortable, letting her shoulders relax as she ordered a drink.

"I fucking love that dress!" A shrill voice sounded next to her as a pretty blonde turned in her seat to face Y/n.

"Oh- thank you! Your makeup is amazing!" Y/n returned the compliment, appreciating the shadow the stranger put on her eyelids.

"Thank you! I'm Lily!" The stranger said, instantly warming up to the nervous girl.

"Y/n, nice to meet you." Y/n introduced herself, taking a sip of her drink.

"What brings you here all alone?" Lily inquired, forgetting about the friends she came with and focusing on Y/n.

"Ah, heartbreak. Ya know." Y/n didn't want to dive into any details, giving the girl a short explanation.

"Oh god, I know that too well. Was it some guy?"

"Yeah- just some guy." Y/n sighed.

"Fuck men! Thats it- we aren't gonna sit here and be sad! Not on my watch! C'mon!" Lily stood up, grabbing Y/n's hand and strutting off to the dancefloor.

Taken back by the sudden warmth of the stranger in the best way, Y/n smiled. Tonight would be different.

"OH MY GOD THE PERFECT SONG!" Lily shouted over the music as none other than doja cat started playing over the speakers of the club. "DOIN TOO MUCH RELAX A BIT!" She began singing, taking Y/n's hands and putting them in the air, fingers interlocked.

"ACTIN LIKE THAT CUZ YOUR DADS A BITCH!" Y/n joined in, letting herself simply enjoy the night.

"MUST BE THE WAY THAT THE PLANETS IS!" Lily shouted, smiling.

"MUST BE YA FACE CUZ ITS NOT YA DICK!" The two girls sang in unison, laughing.

Across the club, Iwaizumi stood with a random tall red head, mind absolutely blank as he caught sight of his best friend dancing with a cute blonde.

Taken back, he felt all of the blood in his body rush to his head. Why the fuck was she here- in a club? With some random girl? In that dress? What is happening- what alternate universe is he in?

The way you danced around to this song made his heart ache. He hurt you again.

He stood and watched helplessly as you and your new friend were approached by 2 men. They seemed to introduce themselves to you, asking to dance. And you accepted.

Iwaizumi watched you dance with a glow around you, thinking about how happy you seemed without him. But it wasn't fair. What about him, right? I mean, he's not even having fun! This redhead is so-

"Boring." He finished his thought out loud to himself.

"Whats that?" The red head asked.

"I need another drink." He walked away, eyes held on your figure in that stupid dress.

Running directly into you, nudging you away from the tall man in front of you with his shoulder, Iwaizumi faked innocence.

"Oh shit- I'm so sorry- Y/n?" He asked as if he didn't know.

"Oh- hi Iwazumi." You replied, shaken from the impact of him both physically and emotionally.

"im not ready for you to forget me."

"What are you doing here?" He asked, not minding any listening ears near by.

"I'm just...trying to have fun." You explained, feeling drained by his presence.

"tell you you're beautiful then stab you in the back"

"Well, you look great." He offered, remembering how great you felt in his arms, not wanting you to bed in this random guys arms tonight instead. "Careful with this one," he said to the man. "Shes a lot to handle."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, taken back yet again.

"Oh you know. She can be a little much- especially in the bedroom!" He spoke to the man as if he asked, knowing he hadn't slept with you more than one time at Bokuto's birthday party during seven minutes in heaven. It turned into 30 minutes in bliss, which ended in him not speaking to you for a week.

"Excuse me?!" You shouted, shoving Iwa.

"Do you two have something-" The man started.

"No!"

"Yup."

You both stood silent, staring at each other. Why would he say yes-

"Sorry buddy, you can have her tonight though." Iwa patted the man on the back, walking away.

"Uh, I'm not gonna get in the middle of all of that- sorry sweetheart." The man said, offering a sorry expression and walking away.

Anger bubbled up in your chest and your eyes found Iwazumi's figure walking to the bathrooms.

Storming into the men's bathroom, you looked around, only seeing Iwazumi. Locking the door, you were determined to hash this out once and for all.

"this is the end this is the end this is the end of me"

"Hey, this is the mens bathroom-" He began, interrupted by your hands on his chest, shoving him.

"What in the FUCK what that?! You don't get to not talk to me for days and then- GOD we only had sex ONE FUCKIN TIME IWA." You shouted.

"Dont care. Dont want you in some random assholes bed." He stood his ground, looking down at you- down your dress momentarily.

"Oh but it's okay for you to fuck anything on legs, yeah? You're such an asshole- you don't get to choose for me."

"I'm just helping you out, princess."

"HELPING ME OUT?! Helping me out. Well, you can help by figuring out what the fuck you want from me. I'm done being used by you. I'm done going days being ignored and I'm done pretending I dont lo-" You shouted through fresh tears.

"Dont." He interrupted, stepping closer to you.

"Dont what? Say I love you?" You challenged.

"You dont."

"Yes I fucking do Iwaizumi." You stood your ground, stepping closer to him, noticing the breath hitch in his chest.

"Fuck." He muttered, his hand finding the back of your neck and kissing you. Kissing you like you were oxygen and the world was running out. Kissing you like a starved man finding food in the desert. Kissing you like-

Like he loved you.

But he didn't right?

Pushing you against the sink, he put his hands on the back of your thighs, setting you on the counter.

"Y/n I- fuck. What are you doing? With me? Why me? You can do so much better- I'm the worst." He asked, foreheads touching.

"Hajime. I wish I knew why I'm so drawn to you. You're my best friend- you get me." You whispered.

"What if I hurt you?" He asked, pain in his chest.

"What if you don't?"

His mind raced with that thought, diving into fantasies of being together with you, kissing you whenever he wanted, sharing a bedroom, having kids maybe.

His mouth found yours again as he pulled your hips closer to him, his center in-between your spread legs.

You felt the straps of your dress being pulled down, revealing your braless chest.

"Shit, Y/n. So pretty. So perfect-" His lips landed on your right nipple, hand tweaking the left as you moaned. You threw your head back and felt your heart flutter.

"Haji-" You moaned out, needing him. He was what you needed. He always was.

"More." He said, pushing your dress up your legs and taking your soaked panties off. "Need you." He muttered out, lips attaching themselves to your neck, a finger diving into your entrance, causing you to scream out in pleasure. You hands searched for his hardening dick through his pants, finding it and rubbing it.

"Shit Iwa." Your moans egged him on, another finger burying itself inside you as he searched for the spot that would make you twitch.

And when he found it, you were putty in his hands.

"Haji!" You screamed, your hand gripping his dick through his pants and making him groan into your ear. "Please please please!" You begged him, needing to cum.

"Cum on my fingers, princess. Remind me what it feels like. C'mon baby." The feeling of his breath as he whispered names to you sent you over the edge. Cumming all over his hand, you moaned him name over and over.

Iwaizumi pulled his pants down, spitting in his hand and stroking his cock as you came down from your first high.

"Need to be in you." He muttered, lining himself up, not waiting for you to be fully done riding out your orgasm.

Thrusting in, you both moaned out at the same time. Nothing has ever felt as good as his cock in you. The world was fuzzy as you became overstimulated from him fucking you so hard.

His right hand behind your head as he kissed and bit your neck all over, leaving marks. His left hand holding your hips down so he could rut into you properly.

"Mine." He growled against your neck, needing to mark you. "You're fucking mine. I'm yours- shit. I'm yours Y/n. Take me please. Yours yours yours." The words fell off of his lips, finally saying what he's wanted to all along. And he meant it.

"Mine! Fuck Haji- you're mine promi-ise!" You moaned out, feeling everything collide in your core.

"Gonna fuck you forever- only pussy I need. Only one I wa-ant. Fuck baby."

"Haji-i-i! Too-oo much- fuck!" You screamed out, second orgasm coming fast as his first approached.

"Hold it for me, princess. Wan' cum with you." He muttered, feeling your walls tighten and strangle his cock.

"Ca-ant!" You yelled, trying to hold back as he thrusted, his dick twitching inside of you, hips stuttering.

"Fucking hold it." He demanded, fingers gripping your hip harder with every second that passed and he felt himself get closer.

"Cum with me princess." He said, letting you both fall over the edge, you head resting in his shoulder as he continued to fuck him cum into you on the bathroom counter.

Heavy breaths filled the room as you came down from your highs. He lifted your chin from his shoulder, kissing you softly.

"You mean it, Haji?" You asked, overly sensitive and needing to be told everything you want to hear.

"'Course I do. 'S always been you princess." He felt his chest tighten as he realized what he's admitted to.

"could you love me at my worst?"

Pulling out, he helped you clean yourself off with toilet paper- joys of bathroom sex.

You both got dressed and you face the mirror, fixing your hair and makeup as best as you could.

You both walked out together, his hand in yours as you walked down the street to your apartment. That's why he ended up at yours all the time, after all. You were close. You made sense.

Changing into a big t-shirt, Iwaizumi stripping down to his boxers, you both cuddled in your bed, his own scent the only one on him besides your own perfume. His scent able to really seep into your sheets.

"demons are friends, angels are enemies."

You fell asleep with a smile.

He fell asleep with self destructive thoughts racing through his head. He's never been good at fighting those demons telling him he's not enough and doesn't deserve you.

----

You woke up and rolled over, expecting to see your Haji.

But the bed was empty. Every trace of him was gone besides the smell of him on your bed.

In that moment you knew- you were going to be stuck in this pattern with him forever. And you couldn't stop it.

And in 2 weeks when he calls you apologizing, you would let him crawl back into your bed.

Fresh tears streamed down your face as you rolled back over, holding your pillow tightly, crying yourself back to sleep.

"Could you love me at my worst?"

----

Iwaizumi walked into the apartment he shared with Oikawa, spotting the brunette sitting on the couch drinking his coffee.

"When are you gonna stop this shit with Y/n? You're hurting her." Oikawa asked lightly.

"It'll hurt more if I-"

"Youre a pussy, Hajime. Grow up." Oikawa spoke harshly, standing up and walking past him to his bedroom, ready to text you about how you deserve better, knowing you'd never let yourself let Iwaizumi go. No matter how badly you both hurt, this toxic cycle was permanent.

Stepping into the shower, Iwaizumi thought about last night and how you felt. In his arms, around his dick, everything.

He cried for 30 minutes in the shower before crawling into his bed, crying himself to sleep as well.

"Could you love me at my worst?"

The answer would always be yes, no matter how bad the worst gets.

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