MORNING SEX

morning glory (w/ hockey rafe)

lil bit of morning vacation sex with hockey rafe. 

warning: nsfw, 18+. overstimulation, oral (female receiving).

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Harmonia (@honeiee)

Harmonia Rosales repaints classic artworks to show God is a black woman

Ahead of her latest show, New World Conciousness, the painter reflects on why we must reject the stale, pale, male traditions of art

Congrats on 500!! Could I please get 193 with hockey!Rafe?✨

thanks dear!

warning: nsfw!!!!!!!!! 18+ (daddy kink)

rafe’s head was burying in your shoulder, his body blanketing yours as he tried to control his breathing.

“shit.” he whispered, starting to roll off of you, his sweaty chest sticking to yours.

you squirmed, already missing the weight of your fridge-sized boyfriend. 

“noooo,” you whined, starting to roll towards him. “come back!”

rafe put a placating hand on your lower stomach, “give me a second, baby. shit. i think you may have killed me.”

you pouted, going to grab at him, trying to get him to give you the attention you rightfully deserved. “c’mon babe - one more!”

rafe propped his head up just enough to look at you. “one more?!” he yelped. “i barely survived that last round - baby, give me like thirty seconds and i’ll go down on you - but there’s no way i’m getting it up again anytime soon.”

you rested your chin on his heaving chest, lower lip comically protruded at this point. “but i’m so empty.” you whined, wiggling your still-wet cunt on his outer thigh. “fill me up.”

rafe looked up at the ceiling, a silent prayer for strength on his lips, before reaching down to play with your cunt, still full of his come from the previous two rounds. “shit - we’ve been at it like rabbits, how are you still horny?”

you shrugged, tilting your cunt into the pressure of his thick fingers. “i dunno, but i need it, daddy! c’mon!”

you grinned as rafe heaved himself into position, comfortably settling his face between your open thighs - “alright sweetheart, let me go down on you until i can get it up again - and then i’ll fill you up.”

my girl (part 3) - rafe cameron

a/n: there is literally so much fluff in this but i hope you guys enjoy it anyway i refused to go to bed until i finished it (not my gif) ALSO: a "certain" scene came out of nowhere i had not planned on writing it so when you get there just know i was feeling spontaneous

Summary: Your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, moves you into your dorm for college. But saying goodbye proves to be a lot more difficult than either of you anticipated.

Warnings: swearing , sex (fingering, mentions of others but is not in detail) lots of tears and fluff

Word Count: 5.9k

series masterlist

my writing

Rafe is the only person that does not grumble as you move into your dorm. Your entire family had huffed and puffed all day, complaining about how long the walk from the parking lot from your room was, how hot it was outside, the amount of stuff you brought, and everything in between. By the time Rafe brought the last box up, you were completely over move-in day and you just wanted your family to leave.

He could tell you were in a mood, so he handed your brother some cash and told him to run down the hall and get some water for everyone. He does as he's told and runs off, taking your mom with him. Rafe comes over and stands beside you, wrapping his arm around you.

You don't hesitate as you fall into his chest, letting him hold you up. You're sweaty, exhausted, and grumpy, and the thought of unpacking even half of this shit just makes you mad. He wraps his arms around you, laying a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

Your dad starts attempting to organize your boxes, but when he looks up and sees the two of you, he tells you he's going to make sure the car is locked. A totally bullshit excuse, but you don't even care. Alone time with Rafe sounds like heaven right now.

"You okay?" Rafe whispers against your head.

You don't reply right away, you just move closer to him, tucking yourself into his chest. There are so many different emotions running through your mind; the irritation from your family bitching, the sadness of leaving your childhood home, and then anxiety of leaving Rafe.

"This is supposed to be fun," you grumble, feeling Rafe's chest move as he laughs at you.

"It is fun, baby," he disagrees, "Look. You have this whole room to decorate, and a dining hall just a little ways away, and a nice bathroom down the hall-"

"Yeah," you scoff, "That I get to share with five other girls."

Rafe laughs again, looking down at you when he feels you look up at him. You rest your chin on his sternum and stare at him with your puppy dog eyes, the ones you know can get him to do anything.

"Is it too late to move in with you?" you ask him quietly.

"Never," he grins, "But this is where you need to be right now, yeah?"

You sigh and then nod your head, but return your eyes up to look at him again. He moves his hand up and brushes a sweaty piece of hair from your face.

"Can you at least stay the night, then?"

You know your roommate isn't moving in until tomorrow, and the thought of Rafe leaving you makes you want to attach yourself to his leg and force him to take you home with him. He nods his head slowly, a grin forming on the ends of his lips.

"I brought an overnight bag because I knew you'd ask," he lets his grin take over his face, "It's in the truck."

You smile and lean up to kiss him, so thankful that he knows what you're thinking even before you do.

You hear a knock on the door and yell for them to come in, watching your little brother peak his head in. He enters with your parents, handing you and Rafe both a water bottle. You untangle yourself from him, only for the sake of your parents. Truthfully, you're afraid if you let him go, he'll evaporate.

Your family stays for a bit, your mom obsessively organizing the boxes in the order she believes you should unpack in, and your dad trying to put together some of the shelves you brought. You tell him that Rafe is staying for a while, you can't tell him for the night because he'll freak, and that he will handle it later.

You don't necessarily want to shove them out, but you're ready for them to leave so you can be alone with Rafe without them hovering over the two of you.

After a while, they finally take your hint, and they give you their goodbyes. Your parents both cry, then tell your little brother on the way out that he's not allowed to leave them. You laugh at them as you and Rafe walk them to the parking lot to say your final goodbyes.

They all give you hugs, tell them to call anytime, and they cry some more. When they finally load themselves in the car, you exhale a sigh of relief. You've been ready to move away from your parents for a while now.

Instead of asking how you feel, Rafe just seems to know, which is why you're not surprised when he loops his arm around your neck and pulls you into his chest again, burying his face in your hair. He wishes he could bottle up your scent and bring it home so he could smell you every time he misses you.

Truthfully, he's having a lot of anxiety about getting in his truck tomorrow to leave you. He knows this is where you want to be, and he's thankful you're not further away, but he's still going to miss you like crazy.

He brings your chin up to give you a kiss, but gives you three instead. He's trying to get them all in before he leaves you, which he knows will be impossible.

"Let's get your bag from the truck," you tell him, taking his hand in yours.

As the two of you walk, hand in hand, Rafe repeatedly kisses your temple or the top of your head, just to, as he put it, 'show everyone around that you are not to be hit on'. You roll your eyes and laugh at him, but it makes you feel good so you let him do what he wants.

Once you get to the truck, Rafe unlocks it and opens the back driver's side door to retrieve his overnight bag. You, out of sheer boredom and exhaustion, open the driver's side door and hop in the seat where Rafe usually sits, letting your feet dangle off the side. He closes the door, and when he sees you, he quickly moves over and looks at you, wondering what you're doing.

"What?" you ask him, looking at him like he's crazy. The expression on his face looks as if he's worried about something - almost mad at you.

"Nothing, just get out of the truck, babe," he sighs, nothing light in his expression at all.

"Did I do something wrong?" you ask him, and when you don't move, he grabs onto your wrist and helps you down from his seat.

"No, it's fine," he huffs.

It's clearly not, but you don't push it. He shuts the door quickly and locks the car right after, then tucks the keys in his pocket. you hear him exhale with relief, then he reaches down and takes your hand like nothing is wrong. You're not sure why he's acting so bizarre, but you hope that's the last you see of it.

He swing your hands back and forth as you walk back to your room, completely and totally fine now. You don't bring it up, but boy, are you curious. He looks down and smiles at you, just taking in your beauty. Leaving you is not going to be easy tomorrow.

When you get back to your dorm, you collapse on your bed and tell Rafe to come cuddle. He shakes his head and picks up one of the boxes your mom so sweetly organized, the one labeled 'Bed'. He opens it up and pulls out your new sheets and pillows, throwing them at you.

"We don't have to unpack anything else, but I'm not sleeping on that shitty dorm room mattress without a sheet and a pillow," he tells you.

"Careful," you say as you hop off the bed, "Your rich side is showing."

Rafe rolls his eyes and picks up one of your pillows, whacking you with it. He helps you put your sheet on the bed, wanting to make it up all nice for you, but you crawl into it the second the sheets are down, so he accepts defeat and climbs up with you, bringing your comforter with him.

You immediately mold to his body under the covers, snuggling your face into the crook of his neck, knowing his familiar scent will always comfort you. It brings you back to the first night you ever spent with Rafe; the two of you in his bed, totally naked under the sheets, breathing in everything about one another.

My how far you've come.

You feel him take your hand under the sheets, his fingers wrapping themselves around your ring finger possessively. He brings his other hand up to your hair, stroking it as a way of comforting you and helping you relax. It's only about three in the afternoon, but you swear you could fall asleep with him.

You hear a knock on your door, and you groan. You don't care who it is, you just want them to go away. Rafe laughs at you, then slides out from under you to get the door. You curse at him for leaving you, which just makes him smile.

He turns and pulls open the door, fixing his hair as he looks out.

"Yo," Rafe speaks, and you know he'd never speak that way to a girl.

You sit up, listening as the person at the door starts to speak.

"I'm Tucker, I'm the RA for the residence hall," he says, sounding a little confused on why Rafe is opening the door.

"Oh, I thought this was an all girl's dorm?" Rafe questions, leaning up against the door frame.

"It's not," Tucker states, his voice firm, "But that still begs the question of who the hell you are."

You sigh as you see Rafe's back muscles tense up, knowing you now have to get out of bed. You hop down and walk over to the door, pushing Rafe out of the way.

"Listen, dude-"

"Hi," you stop Rafe, holding your hand out for Tucker, "I'm Y/N. My roommate won't be here until tomorrow."

He nods his head and grabs ahold of your hand, shaking it a bit too long for Rafe's liking. You watch from the corner of your eye as he sets his hand on his hip, then coughs and glares at the RA, trying to look innocent, even though all of you know what he's doing.

Tucker drops your hand and looks down at his clipboard, then back up to you.

"Guests may not stay more than three consecutive nights," he glances at Rafe, "If you need anything, I have a room down the hall, second door on your right. Any questions or concerns, my door is always open."

Rafe steps behind you now, setting both of his hands on your hips as he stares at Tucker.

"I'm sure it is," Rafe remarks, pulling you back from the door, "And I'm sure my girlfriend will be fine. Thanks for stopping by."

Tucker glares at Rafe, then rolls his eyes.

"Thank you, Tucker," you say quietly.

You know you probably would've interrupted Rafe a lot sooner if you weren't so tired and so sick of everyone interrupting your time together, but you just didn't want to deal with it anymore.

Rafe waves his fingers at the RA, then closes the door with his foot. You don't say a word, you just glare at Rafe and then walk around him, climbing back into your bed.

"What, you're mad or something?" he groans, following you back over.

"You can just sleep in the spare bed if you're gonna act like that," you pout, pulling the covers over you and spreading your body out so he had no room to climb in.

Rafe sighs, then leans down and whispers in your ear, "I'm sorry, okay? I just wasn't a fan of that guy. What can I say? I'm just a sucker for you, I guess."

You hum in response, showing absolutely no understanding for what Rafe has just told you. You even close your eyes, pretending to go to sleep.

"Well, I'm not sleeping in the spare bed," he announces once he stands back up, and when you don't react, he adds, "I guess I'll just have to get home to my bed."

He leans over and watches your eyes pop open, so he quickly looks away and reaches for his duffle bag.

"Don't you fucking dare," you sit up quickly, watching as he looks up at you and breaks into a laugh.

He sets his bag back down on the floor and steps over to you, trying not to melt at the pouty look plastered across your face. He grabs your head and pulls you to him, stroking your back.

"I would never," he tells you, his voice softer, as if he's promising more than just tonight.

You scoot over and let him climb in bed with you again, the covers swallowing both of your bodies. This is all you've wanted all day, and you're extremely grateful that you're finally getting it.

A few hours later, Rafe tells you he wants to go eat, and you offer up the dining hall. Mainly, you do it as a joke, because you know Rafe and you know he would never eat there. You just want to see his face get all scrunched up as he's grossed out by the thought, which is exactly what he does when you suggest it.

"No, baby," he groans, "A nice place. It's the last time I get to take you out for a bit. Come on, up you go."

He starts to drag you from the bed, and as much as you don't want to go, you get up for him. Because he wants to do this for you.

You change out of your gross clothes and replace it with a cute, casual sundress. Nothing too fancy, but not bad either. Rafe throws on a Polo, asking you to button the second button for him because he 'can't fucking get it'.

You walk hand in hand to the truck once again, the only difference being that it's darker now. Rafe keeps trying to push away the ache in his chest as the hours pass, knowing it's only getting closer to him having to leave. He wants to stay with you forever, but he knows he can't. As Tucker had so gently told him, guests are not permitted longer than three nights. So he figures forever might be a bit of a stretch.

He opens the door of the truck for you and takes his time watching you climb in, hoping a draft will come through and be strong enough to make your dress fly up. He's unfortunately very mistaken, so he just gives you a kiss instead.

When he gets in the truck, he sets his arm across the center console and puts his hand on your thigh. This usually wouldn't phase you, but Rafe usually holds your hand on the center console as he drives. You just shrug it off, choosing not to mention it to him.

He takes you to a nice place he had researched and ended up making reservations at, just in case you had asked him to stay with you. It was a little bit of a drive from campus, but you didn't mind and neither did he.

You both sit at dinner and try to keep the conversation light, but it quickly turns into you getting emotional when Rafe starts preaching about how much he loves you.

"Baby, come on, don't cry," he says, but not because he's embarrassed, just because he knows he'll cry, too.

"I'm sorry," you wipe the corner of your eye, trying to prevent the tear from falling down your cheek.

He reaches across the table and takes your hand, squeezing it as his way of subtly comforting you.

"I'm sorry," you repeat, looking up at him, "I just don't want you to go."

Rafe nods his head, feeling the same way. He swallows his hesitations and his anxieties, knowing they will only be a burden to you now as you make this transition.

"I can be here any time you need me. And you can come home, we're going to be just fine," he says, convincing himself as much as he's trying to convince you.

"Promise me," you say, sniffling and then exhaling, "Promise that you're with me."

Rafe's eyes soften and his heart almost melts in his chest as he looks at you, blubbering and holding back tears as you ask him to do that. He feels guilty, thinking you should already be one-hundred percent sure he's with you.

"Baby," he says, his voice serious, "I promise you. I love you."

You nod your head, soaking in the words and using them to relax. You play them over again in your head, trying to commit them to memory so you never forget it.

"Okay," you nod after a second, "All right. I love you, too."

Rafe sits back in his chair but still keeps ahold of your hand. He only lets go when your food comes out, and he changes the subject and lightens the mood by bringing up the gift he wants to get your little brother at Christmas. It's some Xbox game you've never heard of, but Rafe seems excited about it, and you think it's sweet that he's planning out a gift for your brother months before the holiday.

Once you both finish eating, Rafe takes care of the bill and then takes your hand, guiding you out of the restaurant. He steps over to hold the passenger door open for you as usual, but instead of getting in the truck, you lean up and kiss them. You're firm and controlling, yet gentle all at the same time. It's enough to make Rafe melt. Or totally turn him on.

"Get in the truck," he speaks, his voice raspy. You can tell you've done something to him, so you bite your lip and do as you're told, ignoring how he swears under his breath when he looks at you.

He closes the door behind you and practically runs to his side, not even waiting to shut his door before he kisses you again. He grabs both sides of your face and pulls you to him, but you're just not close enough.

"Get over here," he demands, but doesn't wait for you to move. He grabs your hips and picks you up as best he can, relying on your help to climb over the console and onto his lap.

You do, just like you've done countless times before, and continue to kiss him. He moans against your mouth, only turning you on more. He moves his mouth down to your neck, not even caring about whether or not you want hickeys on your neck on the first day of school. You're getting them.

He bites you, as soft as he possibly can, which makes you gasp. You feel him grin against your neck, but the work he's doing feels too good to stop him.

He continues working on your neck while one of his hands travels down underneath your dress. He quickly pushes your underwear aside in one motion and slips two of his fingers inside of you. You gasp again, the cool metal of his ring surprising you.

"You kiss me like that and don't expect a reaction?" he looks at you, smirking as he watches you groan.

"Rafe," you moan, wanting him to move his fingers faster.

"Hmm?" he moves down to your neck again, then back up to your lips, "What is it, baby?"

You gasp as he curls his fingers inside of you, and he just loves watching you take it.

"Oh, my God," you moan, louder than meaning to, the second he speeds up.

He knows exactly what you want, you don't even have to tell him. He knows your body like the back of his hand. He knows where to kiss you on your neck to turn you on, he knows the spot your inner thigh that makes you gasp every time he kisses it, he know exactly how deep in you he needs to get to make you scream.

And you fucking love it.

"Come on, baby," he says, his voice soothing as he uses his other hand to stroke your back, "Come on, now."

He feels you clench around him and smirks, pulling back to watch your face as you let go onto his hand. He pulls his fingers out after a minute, bringing them up to his mouth while he continues to smirk at you.

"Jesus, Rafe," you say, sitting back against the steering wheel.

He sees you start to relax and shakes his head, looking up at you with a devious grin.

"I'm not gonna be able to last until the dorm, baby," he says, "Take your underwear off."

You stare at him, watching as he orders you, and try to take a mental picture of this look right now. It will have to be the one that gets you off every time you miss him and wish he was there to fuck you.

So, you do as he says, removing your underwear without hesitation, and watch his smirk grow.

You and Rafe arrive back at the dorm much later than you had originally planned, but you would've been later if you had indulged Rafe in round two like he wanted. You promise him one back at the dorm instead.

He's learning his way around the campus quickly, you can tell, because he leads you all the way from the parking lot to your dorm. When you get in, you take your dress, and your soaked underwear, off and change into shorts and the shirt Rafe had been wearing before he changed for dinner. It's a Kildare Island shirt, but you've wanted it for some time now, and you know he'll let you have it.

Rafe takes off his shirt and shorts, staying only in his boxers. When he turns around and sees you in the shirt he had been wearing not four hours ago, he just smiles and shakes his head, knowing he's lost it.

You both crawl into bed together, not being able to get close enough to one another. He twirls a strand of your hair around his finger, watching the way it falls and pops back into it's pin straight nature.

"I love you so much," you tell him, feeling your tears start to come up again.

He takes a deep breath, one you feel against your head, trying to contain his emotions as well.

"I love you, too, baby."

You move and leave a kiss on his stomach, then another, then another. He moves his hand up to the top of your head, stroking it through your hair as he feels your lips work on his skin. You trail up his chest and to his lips, kissing him again.

This kiss is different, it's not full of lust and want, it's full of need. You need him, you know that, and he needs you back. He kisses you back with the same intensity, doing his best to hold you to him.

Rafe wants to move this even further, but you can feel the tears start to well up in your eyes again. He sits up and pulls you into his lap as the first one falls, another one quickly behind it. He feels the water on his finger and pulls away from the kiss to look at you.

You sniffle, trying to keep it in, but he can see it on your face right away.

"I'm sorry," you say before he can speak first, letting more tears fall down.

"Oh, baby," he sighs, pulling you into his chest and stroking down your back, "It's okay. Everything's okay."

You two sit like that for a long time, so long that Rafe can feel your body relax, then hears a soft snore on his shoulder from you. He smiles, glad he was able to coax you into sleep, and gently slides himself flat on the bed, bringing you with him.

And he falls asleep like that, with you completely wrapped around him, not letting go if your life depended on it.

You wake up the next morning with both your arms wrapped around Rafe's neck, your legs wrapped around his. He's snoring, you're pretty sure this is one of very few times he's slept later than you. He looks so handsome, so soft, so gentle, which only gets you emotional again.

You almost feel ridiculous being so attached to him. He's told you everything you wanted to hear, promised you he's with you for good, and yet, you worry. You worry about growing apart, you worry about him finding someone else, you even worry about something happening to him. You just know that losing him, in any sense of the word, would literally be your nightmare.

You lay there for a while, brushing your hand lightly over his cheeks, his soft skin, and just watch him sleep. You think about how you love him more than you've ever loved anyone or anything. Ever. He is it for you, that you're sure of.

"Hmm, good morning, baby," Rafe mumbles out, his voice still groggy.

"Good morning," you reply, doing your best to smile for him.

He reaches up and pulls your chin down to him to give him a kiss. He smiles, a real, genuine smile, before it hits him that this might be the last time in a while that he gets to wake up with you.

"Sleep okay?" you ask, setting your head back down on him again.

"The best night sleep I will get for the next few weeks, that's for damn sure," he tells you, trying to laugh it off but you both know he means it.

You both lay there for a while, not wanting to talk about it. You know Rafe can't stay all day, because he has to get back to work for Ward, but neither of you rush him leaving.

When he finally does tell you that you both need to get up, you just nod. He can tell by your face that you just need to take this process slowly, and that he can do for you. He tells you to go down the hall and shower first, so you do.

When you return, still with those same puppy dog eyes, Rafe kisses you and tells you he'll be back after he showers. He makes it quick because he doesn't want to leave you alone for too long. When he comes back into the room, you're laying back down on the bed, your wet hair soaking your pillowcase.

You look up at him and stare as he stands there in a towel and nothing else. He steps over and sits down, watching as you move your head over and set it in his lap. He strokes your wet hair, knowing words are not what you need right now.

After a bit, you turn your head and look up at him, staring at him for a second before you say, "Take me, Rafe."

No games, no jokes, no playing. You just wanted to feel close to him. He nods his head as you move up to lay down, watching as he takes his towel off and climbs on top of you.

He shows you just how much he loves you. Kissing every square inch on your body. You can feel him everywhere, and you know it's by far the most passionate sex you two have ever had. The most intimate.

Once you two finish, he lays with you for a while. He writes his name in your skin with the base of his index finger. He tells you how much he loves you, and how you're the only one for him.

You start to cry when he gets dressed. He does his best to kiss the tears away one by one, then uses the base of his thumb to wipe away any more that come after you promise you're okay.

He packs all his clothes in his bag, minus one Kildare Island shirt, and then zips it up, turning around to you to tell you he's gotta get back to the island now. You nod your head and reach out to take his hand, promising yourself you're not going to cry.

You both walk incredibly slow out to the truck. He keeps bringing his hand up to kiss your knuckles.

Once the truck is in sight, you stop and look up at Rafe.

"I don't want to be here anymore," you tell him, shaking your head.

Rafe pulls your head to his chest and drops his bag on the ground, wrapping both arms around you.

"Baby, this is where you need to be. You'll figure out your groove and adjust in no time. You hear me?"

You nod your head and sniffle, and Rafe swears he could just throw you in the truck and take you home with him. But he knows he has to do what's best for you.

"All right," you say. He picks his bag up again and walks to the truck, still holding onto you.

He opens up the back door and throws the bag inside, then turns back to you with a sad kind of smile.

"You should know, I tucked a pair of your underwear in my bag."

This makes you laugh, which in turn makes him laugh.

"Weirdo," you sigh, shaking your head.

He pulls you into him again, this hug feeling more final. He holds back his own tears as he squeezes onto you, hoping and praying that he will get to see you soon.

"Please don't leave me," you say quietly, immediately feeling selfish when you do.

Going to school had been your decision, and now you're putting all the pressure on Rafe to comfort you and stay with you. You know you're being unfair.

"Oh, my God, baby," he speaks, his voice cracking with his own emotions, "You know I would never."

You wet his shirt as you start to cry, and when he feels you shake, he lets his own tears fall.

"You're going to be fine," he says, sniffling to keep his tears from soaking the top of your head.

You try your best to pull it together, knowing Rafe doesn't have all day to babysit your crying ass. So, you do what Rafe has done a thousand times. You suck it up. You pull your head away from his chest and wipe your face, then look up at him.

"You're right," you say, "I'm gonna be fine. And if I'm not, I can come home after a semester and figure something out."

Rafe shakes his head, "No escape routes, Y/N. You're doing this. Just relax, okay, babe?"

You just nod. He leans down and kisses you, letting it linger before he kisses you one last time.

"I'll see you soon, baby," he promises.

You nod again, afraid if you speak, your voice will be unsteady and Rafe will start to cry again. He opens up his door and climbs into the seat, turning around for a moment to the console and tucking something into his pocket before he turns back to you.

"Rafe," you say, watching as he brings his eyes up to yours, "I love you."

He looks at you for a brief moment, his heart swelling in his chest, before he says the words that almost make your heart stop.

"Marry me."

Your jaw falls open, but you quickly shake your head and realize he's just talking about the future.

"Rafe," you groan.

He hops out of the truck and walks over to you, grabbing ahold of your shoulders.

"I mean it. Marry me, baby. I love you and I know that it's you, and I don't know a lot, but that I'm sure of," he rambles, staring at you as you realize he's serious.

"Rafe-" you start again, but he stops you.

"I know we're fucking young but I don't care. I don't want anyone else and I will never want anyone else. I'm sorry babe, but I can't go back to that island like this, I need to know that you're here, with a piece of mu heart on your finger and to know that I have every intention in the world of being with you for the rest of my life-"

"Oh, my God, Rafe," you start to laugh at his rambling, at the way he doesn't realize you don't need much convincing, "Baby, take a breath."

He inhales deeply, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, velvet box. Your face drops as you stare at it.

"What is that?" you ask him, even though you know full well what it is.

"I bought it the day we came home from that college tour at USC. I mean, I've known since the day we started dating that it was you, but I completely made up my mind after that trip. It's always going to be you, baby."

Your eyes well up so fast that you can't stop the tears from falling. He bought you a fucking ring. You cry even harder as he sinks down to one knee in the middle of the parking lot, looking up at you with nothing but love and tears in his eyes.

"Please be my wife, Y/N."

He opens the box and your eyes grow wide. The ring is everything you've ever dreamed of, everything you have ever wanted. And so is the boy.

You look from the ring to him, looking at how sure he is that this is what he wants.

"Rafe, we're so young," you tell him through your tears.

He stands up and comes over to you, pulling your chin up to look at him.

"So, we'll have a long engagement," he shrugs.

"What about our parents?" you ask, hoping to give him all of your hesitations just so he can fix them.

"We'll have a long engagement," he repeats, as if it's obvious how that would solve it.

"Rafe-"

"Will there be an answer to this question, because I think I'm starting to go into cardiac arrest," he tells you, laughing as he speaks.

"Oh, my God," you laugh, "Yes, of course I will marry you, Rafe Cameron!"

Rafe smiles from ear to ear as he practically tackles you in a fit of hugs and kisses. He kisses every inch of your face, then reaches for your hand and pulls it out, sliding the ring on your finger. Everything about it is perfect. It fits you beautifully and looks absolutely stunning on you.

"I love you so much," he tells you, kissing your lips again.

"I love you, too," you smile.

And as you stand there, being held by the man who makes you feel the safest, and staring at the ring that will one day make you Rafe's wife, every fear you had twenty minutes ago melts away

Billy Hargrove || 2AM

~~~ in which the roles reverse, billy is the late night booty call who knows what he’s feeling is wrong but doesn’t care to stop himself.

~~~ billy hargrove x fem!reader

——————————————————————————

“Same time next week?” She asked while walking out of her bathroom in a clean set of matching pink sleeping top and shorts. “Uh yeah of course.” I said while slowly gathering my clothes from her floor. Once I was dressed I walked over to her mirror and messed with my curls, stalling in attempt to gain more time in her presence. Subtly letting my eyes wander her reflection in the mirror, I watched as she grabbed her night creams from her bedside table and gently applied them to her soft silky skin. Her peach-like smell was enticing, it enveloped her entire room making me never want to leave. Clearing my throat as I looked away, I grabbed my cigarettes and lighter from out my pocket, “Goodnight sweetheart” I said while looking at her once more before walking out of her room and making my way out of her house.

One week later…

I found myself at another meaningless party thrown by someone in the popular clique. Who? I couldn’t say but free booze and hot chicks, I’d be crazy to pass that up. As soon as I walked through the front doors a number of people approached me, Tommy and Carol with their usual antics about keeping my spot as the new Hawkins kings and random girls trying their best to catch my attention. Walking past all of them I made my way to the kitchen, grabbing the first bottle in reach and downing a gulp or two. “Hey Billy, was wondering when you would get here.” a redhead said while batting her eyelashes at me, I think her name was Rachel. Typical popular girl, dumb and looking for the hottest guy to bone. But she wasn’t who I wanted to spend the rest of my night with. It was a Friday night, my favorite night of the week considering I spent it under the one girl who I actually cared for.

Couple hours later and a few trips to the keg, I make my way inside to find a bathroom and clean up the beer which had dripped down my face from shotgunning. Making my way through the crowd inside the house, I feel a soft hand gently caress the back of my right arm. Turning my head, instantly viewing her luscious brown locs and beautiful tan skin I love. I give her a wink and a small nod towards the stairs leading upstairs. Once I reached the bathroom, I start to rinse the beer off my neck and jaw. Turning off the water, I hear a quick knock on the door. “I was wondering how long you were gonna try to resist me.” I say slightly smirking, causing her to roll her eyes playfully. “Shut up and kiss me.” She says while pushing her way into the small restroom. “Yes ma’m” I say while locking the door and then pushing her against it. Even just the way she tastes makes my brain run wild, her soft lips make me go haywire. “20 minutes tops.” She says sternly as she starts to tug on my white wife beater tank. “Whatever you say baby” I say while breaking apart our kiss to take off my shirt, instantly going back to make my way down her neck.

“Hey so I know we don’t usually do anything outside of this, and i’m not saying that I don’t like it or anything cause I do, trust me that’s really not it-“ I say as I start to word vomit while buckling my belt, “Just get to the point.” She says while fixing her the straps to her dark green top. “Okay yeah so would you ever wanna go out? Like maybe go get dinner or something.” I say hesitantly while messing with my belt to avoid eye contact. She scoffs, “Billy, you do know what this is right?” She says as she starts to watch me play with my belt. “Sex, not friends, no dates, no romance, just sex. Don’t ask me that again.” She says before reaching up to pat my cheek and with that she’s gone like nothing ever happened. God, how stupid could I be? Of course she was gonna say no. Goddamnit Billy.

One week later…

After embarrassing myself to the point where I forced myself to leave despite nobody having a single clue of what happened, I avoided everyone at all costs. How could I, THE Billy Hargrove, be stuck up on some chick? Yeah she’s incredibly gorgeous, bangin’ body, super smart, and great sense of style but so what? I could easily find someone to replace her. I don’t care about her, I don’t care that she twirls a strand of her hair between her thumb and her pointer finger whenever she’s focused, or the way she rests her hand right above her midriff whenever she laughs, or even the way she only cracks her knuckles when she’s stressed. God, who am I kidding?

I am completely in love with her.

“Hey I know it’s only wednesday and we only meet on friday’s but I’ve just been really stressed so is there any way you can come over right now?” Her sweet voice said to me on the phone. “Um I’m a little busy right now but I’ll see what I can do.” I said to her with a straight tone, desperately trying to seem nonchalant. “Okay no yeah of course just let me know.” She said back, I could almost hear the regret in her tone. Hanging up the phone I immediately started to change into a clean shirt and my trusty Levi’s. Spraying some cologne on and fixing my curls, I stopped and looked at myself in the mirror. She could ask me to rob a bank and I would, god I am so whipped and she doesn’t even know it. Well, I rather have her like this than not at all.

Bets & Bargains Masterlist

Series Summary: Bradley Bradshaw was not one to put all of his free time into a relationship, and that is the exact reason his girlfriend, Briana, broke up with him. Despite things being pretty casual between them, he decides he wants her back and this results in him coming up with an idea that not only breaks your heart, but his own.

Warnings: frat boy bradley, college au, alcohol consumption, weed usage, drugs, swearing, insecurity, self-deprecating thoughts, bets, hints of bradley having anger issues, unwanted touching, public smut, pda, mentions of death, mentions of fighting, mentions of blood and injuries, terrible friendships, oral (f receiving), fingering, mentions of bad past sexual relations, more as the series goes on

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

More to come probably

'til the morning comes (4/?)

steve rogers x reader (fluff and angst)

summary: steve makes it up to you.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of drinking

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (series masterlist)

 “Is this a paltry attempt to get your job back?”

 You shoot a mean look at Dane over the whiteboard, where you’re filling in bubble letters with red marker. WELCOME TO THE ART FESTIVAL! it reads, poised on a rickety easel by the main entrance.

 “No judgment.” He laughs, innocently raising his hands full of multicolored popsicle sticks. “We just miss you.”

 “Yes, we do.” Sersi raises an eyebrow as she sorts paint into plastic bins. “But Dane, why would Ms. Penthouse in New York—”

 “I do not live in a penthouse—”

 “Soon-to-be Mrs. Steve Rogers—” Joaquín adds, winking at you.

 “Miss us?” She ends her question by bumping her hip against yours.

 You frown. “Of course I do!” Replacing the cap on your marker, you lob it across the hallway, celebrating briefly once it lands in the intended cardboard box. “Why else would I have dragged his campaign trail here?”

 Joaquín eyeballs the length of his project, a paper chain with alternating school colors. “Because apparently this place only cares about the arts when it brings famous senators, and thus national recognition.”

 “You know we shouldn’t cut into—” Sersi gasps for effect, “—instructional time.”

 “Don’t you know kids are only as valuable as their math and English scores?” Dane says, jutting a finger in his wife’s direction while he claims the chair next to you.

 You can’t help the smile stealing onto your face at the familiarity of this embittered banter.

 Organizing an after-school art festival wouldn’t win your job back. To the uninitiated, the gesture might seem well-intentioned: giving back to the institution that meant so much to you. In reality, your resignation covered up the fact that you were let go, and obscured the unceremonious dissolution of the art program from the local news. From your perspective, this photo-op looks like a fat middle finger to the administration. I can single-handedly make this place better without even working here.

 Actually, not single-handedly. Steve helped. A lot.

 As much as you missed venting with your friends about the state of education, your primary goal tonight is to create art alongside some amazing kids. Nothing more. “It’ll be fun for them,” you say, though you lack certitude. “Do you think they’ll still recognize me?”

 Sersi labels each bin with a room number. The largest one receives the name Atrium. “Cassie asks about you every other day.”

 You shouldn’t pick favorites, yet you grin. “Let’s get drinks tonight, before I have to head back.”

 Joaquín chuckles. “On a school night?”

 Like you haven’t done that a few times already. “Please?” You pout, shoving your cheek into Dane’s shoulder. “It’s so lonely over there.”

 “Hey, honey?”

 You pop up at the sound of Steve’s voice behind you.

 No one asked for it, least of all you, but he insisted on helping the school and campaign staff distribute each activity’s supplies to its corresponding classroom. From face painting and origami to shaving cream art and air-dry clay sculptures, every room was booked.

 For the first time, he’s empty-handed, no construction paper or colored pencils in sight. He approaches you timidly.

 “Hey,” you return softly, touching his wrist.

 “Are you okay?”

 “I’m great.”

 “I think everything’s ready.” He nods at your friends then drops his head, lightly nudging your shoes with his toe.

 You squeeze his fingers, wondering where that confident senator Steve has gone. He acted cordially with your friends earlier. Maybe after all that work, he’s tired.

 But the night has barely begun. “Lights, camera, action?”

 His smile for you is tentative. “Yeah.”

— — —

 “Mr. Rogers, can I have the blue?”

 “Of course, Cassie,” Steve responds, reading the name tag stuck to her shirt. “Light blue or dark blue?” He presents two styrofoam plates covered in paint, like it’s the hardest decision she’ll ever make.

 She splats her hand into the light blue. “Did you know your wife used to be my art teacher?”

 Steve follows her, holding the plate and ensuring none of the acrylic will drip and ruin the other handprints.

 Technically, it didn’t matter. You and Steve posed hours earlier, holding one end of the banner and blinking under the camera flashes. The principal supported the opposite side, and a carefully chosen group of diverse kids stood in front, pointing at the mural Brookemont Elementary will proudly display on the main wall of the atrium.

 Cameras had followed one or both of you almost all evening. They wanted candid shots of you working with the students for their front page stories. That visual narrative of Steve “Family Man” Rogers, as relatable as a father on the PTA. And you, playing the part of his wholesome, maternal fianceé.

 Of course, at every opportunity, you stole away with your former coworkers and laughed and reminisced and discussed which bar to visit tonight.

 Nearly all the teachers and families have left. Sersi and the others had been busy cleaning their classrooms, but you had the privilege to loiter by the exit and receive dozens of hugs and thank you's. You reveled in the joyful faces of students who will return to school tomorrow and see their art projects dried and ready.

 Steve stood against the opposite wall, high-fiving kids and chatting with parents. He shot you a couple shy smiles, and suddenly you wanted to cut through the parade and hug him.

 “She’s not my wife yet,” Steve reminds her.

 Given all the enthusiastic, patient, and kind energy he needed for interacting with the students, you’re hardly surprised that a dopey grin comes easily now. Plus, Cassie has that effect.

 Scott, her father, lovingly punches your shoulder while you work together to screw the caps onto several paint bottles.

 “She was awesome. She helped me make a sculpture of an ant.” Cassie lowers herself, smacking the canvas.

 “An ant?” Steve asks, his confusion obvious.

 You chime in. “Are they still your favorite animal, Cassie?”

 “Yes.” She signals to Scott with half-blue fingers. “Daddy, show him the picture!”

 Steve’s eyebrows raise when Scott shows him the photo on his phone. You and Cassie appended three styrofoam balls using toothpicks, covered them with colorful papier-mâché, and shoved in eight bent pipe cleaners. Two small ones for the antennae, six for the legs. “Wow, that’s really cool.”

 He’s genuinely impressed. It makes you want to tackle him to the ground and kiss his face, not caring that his back would get stained with a half-dry rainbow splatter.

 “What was his name again?” you ask.

 “Ant-thony,” Scott laughs. “Hey, how are you?” He rips off paper towels from the industrial-sized roll sitting nearby, offering one to Cassie and one to you. “Is it weird being back?”

 You scrub the red and purple and yellow off your fingertips, grinning. “Uh, is it weird that Cassie is going to be in third grade next year?”

 “It’s horrifying for me, but she’s excited, right, Peanut?” He ruffles Cassie’s hair. She’s too busy watching Steve remove the paint from her tiny palm, the paper scrunched inside his fist. “Thanks for doing this.”

 “You should thank Steve.” Speaking of, he gets to his feet and pecks your cheek fleetingly. “I couldn’t have done it without him and his team.”

 “Thank you, sir.” Scott salutes, laughing at his own silliness. “For bringing the arts back to Brookemont Elementary School, even for just one night.”

 “Steve Rogers.” After he discards the towel, the two share a brisk handshake.

 “Scott Lang.” He lifts his daughter onto his hip. “I hope you remember us when you’re inaugurated.”

 “I will.” From his tone, you know he’s making a promise.

 “And you, Ms. First Lady.” Scott points at you, and Cassie imitates him. “Don’t forget where you came from.”

 “Yeah!” Her accusatory finger quickly dissolves into a wave. “Bye Ms. First Lady and Mr. President! Have a good night!”

 You watch them go.

 In another time, you might have flinched when Steve’s hand finds your waist. Although tonight has been fatiguing, you’ve felt dreamily happy, so you sigh and lean on his solid chest, relieved to be alone.

 “We should put our hands on this, right?”

 The mural spans the width of the hallway, yet color covers the majority of its surface. It’s a mark of success that you can’t easily find a place to accommodate two more prints.

 “You should.” You wrinkle your nose, spinning within his embrace. “But I’m not a teacher here anymore.”

 Joaquín, Sersi, and Dane placed theirs in a corner, three adult-sized purple handprints awkwardly clumped together. They did it together, and you were probably occupied. You choke at the thought, nostalgic for the times when they wouldn’t have left you out of anything.

 “Oh, c'mon. This festival has your name written all over it.” Steve’s thumb sweeps an arc along your spine. “Which color do you want?”

 You shrug, a little flustered. “You pick.”

 He chooses the green. After you dip your palm, you give him a soft high five, smearing his skin with acrylic. Laughing together, you fill the biggest chunk of white space left, the heel of your hand fitting inside the space between his thumb and pointer.

 “Perfect,” he murmurs, after your sticky palms peel away.

 His touch never leaves your waist. That gentle pressure is the only thing keeping your ribcage from bursting.

 Careful not to smudge you, he helps you stand. “Staff bathroom’s this way.” You motion toward the east wing, anxious to get him alone alone.

 He nods. “Alright, be right there.”

 The water runs almost clear by the time Steve returns. He wedges himself awkwardly beside the sink so he can wash his hands with you.

 You thought the silence would be comfortable, but Steve is clearly buzzing with something. He clears his throat. “I overheard you talking about getting drinks.” He doesn’t meet your eyes. “I’ll pick you up afterward, if you text me.”

 You nearly forgot how much you’re looking forward to hanging out with your friends later. “You should come.” Flicking a couple droplets at him, you giggle. “Helen might stop by.”

 He knows her, but not really. Besides the day he helped you move out, Steve has only stuck his face into the occasional video call you’ve made in the kitchen to say hi to her. They would get along, you think, but you can’t be certain.

 “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

 “Oh. That's fine.” You dig a bit of green from underneath your nails. Some horrible vacuum has sucked out the easy flow you and Steve had a few moments ago. It saddens you, but what were you expecting? “Too many public appearances for one day?”

 “I don’t want to get in the way.”

 “You’re the whole reason we’re here,” you offer gratefully.

 He frowns. “I’m the whole reason you left San Francisco in the first place.”

 You tear a towel from the dispenser, swallowing down what little pride you have. You’ve given him such a huge part of yourself and your life. Finally, you want to share something. He couldn’t possibly feel ill at ease around Dane’s drunk ass or Joaquín on the karaoke machine.

 “Let’s take advantage while we're here." You toss the trash away. “It'll be fun.”

 "Some other time." His lips barely curve. “We’ll do a big dinner out next time we’re here, my treat.”

 Not worth the effort, you decide. “Did you have fun today, at least?”

 He answers earnestly: “It was exhausting, but I loved it.”

 Huh. You kinda thought Steve couldn’t love anything.

 Once he finishes washing his hands, he digs inside his pocket. “I forgot, uh—I painted you something.”

 You blink. “Wait, you what?”

 He unfolds a tabloid-sized sheet of paper, sweeping it toward you sheepishly. “Sorry if it got smudged, it took forever to dry.”

 It’s the Golden Gate Bridge.

 Or the closest approximation he could manage using watercolors made for children. With the exception of the bright red bridge, you see how much he thinned the overly-saturated paint, going for subtle tone changes and mixing colors for additional depth. The pale water reflects his delicate brushwork on the cables, the setting sun, and the purple sky.

 He must have started early in the evening. Revisited to add more layers. And minutes ago, Steve carefully lifted this piece off the drying racks, gingerly folded the stiff paper, and slipped it inside his pocket to surprise you.

 It’s the most cheesy San Francisco thing he could’ve depicted, but you still wanna cry. “Steve, why would you…?”

 He fumbles. “The brush was really cheap, and hard to control.”

 “It’s so gorgeous.” You stare at him. “I had no idea you could do this.”

 “I did it for you.” He shrugs, an attempt to convince you both that this gesture means nothing. “I know you missed being home.”

 You’re almost mad he didn’t tell you. He’s a practiced artist. It’s possible he took classes. This isn’t the first landscape created by the hands of Steve Rogers, this lush scene with a sense of perspective, and thoughtful composition, and the warmth of home.

 For you, he said.

 So you grab his face and kiss him. It lingers twice as long as the appropriate smooches you volunteer in public, which isn’t saying much.

 “Sorry.” The second you pull away, you spot a thin inch of paint streaking his cheekbone. Realizing you missed a spot, you glance at your palms. “I got… on your—”

 Your relationship is so exposed, meticulously crafted for the public eye. Every look and every touch, an invitation for inspection and ridicule.

 This, though, it’s private, your thrilling secret, savored knowledge you’ll keep locked tight even if this relationship ends up falling apart: the feverish way Steve draws you toward the softness of his mouth, the distant taste of sugared mint on his tongue, the sharp ache radiating from your elbow when he clumsily shoves you back and then above the rim of the sink.

 “Is this okay?” He roughly palms behind your knee, and despite the slippery material of your skirt, Steve keeps your ass from falling inside the bowl, never lets your lips any further than a millimeter from his.

 His low pitch shreds you to tiny pieces, yet you have sense enough to remind him, “I kissed you first, stupid.”

 “What time do I pick you up?”

 You whine as his teeth test the sensitive skin of your neck. “Steve.”

 “What time?” he repeats, the tender cloud of his breath scorching a path toward your heart. “Tell me and I’ll be there.”

 You whimper, you can’t think with his fingertips finding the hem of your top and searching for bare skin. “Eleven?”

 That number seems... reasonable? You don’t even know the time right now.

 “Eleven o’clock,” he agrees gruffly. “Sharp.”

 You nod pathetically, pawing at his hair. Thirty more seconds, you promise yourself.

 Okay. Maybe just a minute more. Then you’ll stumble away from this, and fix your clothes, and find your friends. “Sharp.”

— — —

masterlist

complete college rafe masterlist

UPDATED 8/12/2020

college rafe, coho!rafe…all your favorite rafes.

HEADCANONS/ONESHOTS

college

college rafe - lax bro edition

sex with college rafe - 18+

sex with rafe + his dirty stache - 18+

college rafe films you during sex - 18+

college rafe takes care of his drunk gf

college rafe gets jealous - 18+

hockey!rafe

coho!rafe plays hockey

sex with coho!rafe wearing his jersey - 18+

coho!rafe gets into a fight 

coho!rafe and his playoff superstitions

coho!rafe + sex toys - 18+

midsummers with coho!rafe

coho!rafe + the video - 18+

morning sex - 18+

hockey!rafe & hockey!jj - the origin story (written with @oopmyheartwent-obx​)

coho!rafe getting drafted

hockey!jj: the road to the nhl (written with @oopmyheartwent-obx​)

BLURBS/DRABBLES

hockey!

coho!rafe jersey sex cont. - 18+

coho!rafe wakes you up in the middle of the night

hyping coho!rafe up pregame

coho!rafe’s fan club

coho!rafe + concussions

coho!rafe + bad day at work

cuddles w/ coho!rafe

coho!rafe finds you in the crowd

coho!rafe visits you at work

coho!rafe as a student

coho!rafe comforting you after a test

car sex with coho!rafe - 18+

coho!rafe after a big win - 18+

pro!rafe in the bubble - 18+

college!

college rafe with a camcorder - 18+

dirty talk - 18+

office sex - 18+

spanking - 18+

head w/ college rafe - 18+

frat boy rafe

thigh riding - 18+

halloween

college rafe pulling you out of a fight

dad!rafe

hockey rafe + baby jersey

telling rafe you’re pregnant

ministicks

family skate

winning the cup

big brother

qb!rafe

how y’all met

qb!rafe teaching you how to play

coho!rafe smut blurbs (18+)

I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X 

XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIX

Thriller // Billy Hargrove Imagine

Requested by: @certifiedbillyhargrovetrash

“Hey can I get 19, 20, 21, 23, 36, 104, & 118 with Billy? Maybe smut if you want??? Like before & at the Halloween party and Billy gets jealous from all of the guys staring at you at school & in your costume?”

warnings: Smut, cussing, mentions of alcohol.  

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader 

Credits: THERE IS A QUOTE IN HERE THAT DOESNT BELONG TO ME, I JUST LOVED IT SO MUCH, I ALSO DON’T REMEMBER WHO WAS THE ORIGINAL TO POST IT SO TAG THEM IF YOU KNOW THEM OR IF YOU WROTE IT AND ARE READING THIS, CREDS TO YOU. 

Permanent Tag List: @dacrestories @dacresprincess @writing-hargrove @imhere4newt @tom-tom-the-pom-pom @thephantomofthe-internet @billys-bloodynose @wolfieasli @serpentsdacre @hargroovin @ria132love @wjherxndale @unapologetically-insane @lomlbarnes @emmalvei-blog @hippie-taco-lady @vanitysfairr @artisticlales @bitchin-montgomery @certifiedbillyhargrovetrash @saoirsewhittle @lalalindsay25631888 @denimjacketkisses @hxrringtonschildren @strangerxfics @bva14 @dacremontgomerylover

_______________________________

“Did you hear about the party tonight at Stacy’s?” You ask Billy as the two of you lay on your bed and watch TV. You rolled over and laid your head on his chest to face him when you asked him the question. 

“I did.” Was all he said when he just pulled you closer to him and continued watching TV. You took this as an opportunity to get his undivided attention. You sat up and straddled him, he sat up and smirked at you, yep it worked. “Why? Are you wanting to go to this party? Is that why you’re asking?” He asked and rubbed his hands up and down your sides. 

“Yeah, but if you aren’t going then-” You were going to say but he cut you off quickly, placing his index finger on your lips. 

“We’ll go, I was just unsure if you wanted to. But I have to go pick up Max from AV club first or my dad will have my neck and my keys.” He said and moved you to the side. 

“No Problem, Carol was going to pick me up, so I’ll just meet you there okay?” You said and kissed him goodbye, preparing for the night. 

– 

“Damn, girl. You look good.” Carol said as the two of you got out of the car and into stacy’s house. 

You decided you were going to dress up as a female greaser since Grease was your favorite movie at the moment. You stole Billy’s famous black leather jacket and a tiny white crop, letting your skin brace the cold weather. “Thanks, I just found something last minute.” You replied truthfully and looked for Billy throughout the sea of people. 

There he was, the keg king himself, glistening in sweat. Billy hadn’t hit the keg stand yet and ever since he saw you, he didn’t plan on it. When you saw him, you expected a smirk, but all you received was a raised eyebrow. “Hey, baby.” You said and walked closer to him. 

“Looking’ good, Y/N.” Tommy said and all of his friends chuckled with him. 

“Shut up, Tommy.” Billy spat and stood up, towering over you. 

You peeked you head around Billy and thanked tommy for the flattery, even though you knew he only said it to get under Billy’s skin. “That’s my jacket.” He said and pulled you closer by the wing of his jacket. 

“I know, I thought you’d like it.” You smirked and touched his own exposed abdomen. His body clenched at your touch. He just nodded and looked around the two of you. Whistles and winks were sent your way, pats on Billy’s shoulder only riled his nerves up more. 

“Come with me.” He said and nearly dragged you across Stacy’s house and to the back room. He locked the door behind him and stood at the door, crossing his arms across his body, flexing his god given muscles. “That’s my jacket.” He repeated himself once more. 

You rolled your eyes and huffed. “Are you seriously mad at me for wearing your jacket? Fine, here then.” You said taking off the jacket and showing your short crop top, your high waisted shorts and the sun kissed exposed skin. 

“I’m not mad about the jacket, princess. In fact I’m not mad at all, I’m actually confused.” He said and picked the jacket up off of the floor and laid it neatly across the desk in the room. 

“What are you confused about?” You asked and placed a hand on your hip, leaning to once side. Billy came up to you and caressed your hot skin. He swiped his tongue across his lips and chuckled lowly. 

“I’m confused as to why you thought it was okay to walk around here looking like that. Every guy here has had their eyes glued to your ass, or your chest, and those areas are for my eyes only. And the fact that you wore this outfit with my jacket… It almost makes me wonder if you were trying to test my nerves.” He said and fondled with the buttons on your clothes. “Did you just want my attention? Baby, I can give you attention, all you have to do is ask.” He said and picked up your chin pressing a light kiss to your lips, teasing you. 

“Billy please.” You whimpered and reached for his lips. He backed away and bit his lip. 

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you?” He asked rhetorically and reached down to squeeze your ass. The sudden move made you squeak and he laughed at you. 

“Billy please just do something already.” you pleaded and snaked your arms around his neck. He wasted no time in picking you up and throwing you on the bed. He quickly ripped every piece of fabric off of your body and rid of his own. Usually, Billy used a lot of his time in foreplay making sure you felt oh so good, and that you came more than once. But the both of you were craving the other and wanted to get right to it. 

“Let’s get you more comfortable yeah?” He suggested and moved you up to the headboard and slid your body under the covers. His lips attacked every inch of your body, almost savoring you in every form. He worshipped your body all the time and it made you feel so beautiful, your confidence definitely increased ever since you two became active. 

As he lined himself up to your entrance, he stopped and looked at you. You looked at him in confusion and put a hand on his chest. “You know I love you right?” He asked and threw one of your legs over his shoulder. 

You laughed at him in disbelief. “Well, yeah.” You answered and smiled at him. All of a sudden, a smirk grew on his face and his eyes became even more lustful. “Good, because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.” He whispered in your ear and slammed into you the minute he finished he sentence. 

Your back instantly arched to his and you held one arm on his bicep and the other on the headboard so you didn’t slam your head into it. Billy was good at sex no doubt and there was just something about his touch that made your squirm. Whimpers and moans left your mouth and you could feel Billy’s pride radiate off of him. He loved that he was the only one that could make you feel this way and he sure didn’t have a problem showing it off. 

His rhythm only increased in speed and roughness, but honestly you didn’t mind it, it actually kind of turned you on. Billy noticed how loud you were tonight but he sure as well wasn’t going to stop you. “You letting everybody know who’s girl you are?” He asked and nipped at your neck, grunting with each thrust, his nails digging into your sides and pulling your hips to meet his with each thrust. 

“Billy, I can’t-” Your tried to say, signaling that you were close, and you could tell he was too. Billy never got sloppy when he was close, he only got more intense so he could make sure you came first, there was only one time when he came before you did and he let his manliness get the best of him with pouting for a couple of days. 

“Go ahead.” He said and circled his middle finger on your clit to help you reach your climax, which didn’t take long. Your nails drug scratches down his back when you came and even though he hissed, he loved it when you put marks on him. Billy came short after you and slowly laid on top of you, resting his head on your chest, listening to your heart race. 

“Maybe I should wear this more often?” You asked teasing him, running your fingers through his now damp curls. He smirked into a chuckled and looked up at you, raising his body to press a sweet kiss to your lips. 

“Just be prepared to not be able to walk again.” He laughed and peppered small loving kisses all over your body. 

Between Friends

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

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 11K

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

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

𝐍𝐎𝐖

Rooster couldn’t control his bouncing leg.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not once, not ever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, looking anywhere else other than at him.

“How are things with your Dad?”

You offer him a shrug.

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

“Is it a guy?” Bradley tries again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your first…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The girl who just asked him to be her first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” Bradley says, honestly.

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

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

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

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

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

And he means it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What a stud,” you tease.

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

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

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

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

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

He wipes his hands on his pants.

“You sure?” he asks again.

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

He nods, “Then I guess we just…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bradley?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He notices. Of course he notices.

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

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

“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you.”

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

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

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

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

In his bed. Because of him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a smartass,” he grins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That feels nice,” you sigh, airily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he fills you with two fingers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod before he even finishes the question.

“Do you have-”

He nods before you finish yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, your fingers stroking his sides.

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

He takes a breath.

And then he’s shifting forward and pressing in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Little by little. Inch by inch.

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

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

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

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

“Shit,” he curses under his breath.

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

He reads the question in your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bradley, I-I think… I feel-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The hum of the fan.

The beam of warm afternoon light through the blinds.

The smell of the now cold coffee on his nightstand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything for you, kid.”

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

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

It was just… something between friends.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin because it feels like a checkmate.

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

He looks thunderstruck.

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

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

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

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

“June,” you promise.

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

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

𝐍𝐎𝐖

You avoid Rooster for the rest of the night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here and now,” he confirms.

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

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

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

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

You see him fight back a smirk.

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

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

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

You feel his finger graze the back of your hand.

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

“My tattoo? Bradley, what-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks from your eyes down to your parted lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kisses you like he knows you.

Because he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

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