Sagesoleen - Femme

Lessons in Honesty: part 2

steve harrington x reader

chapter 2

– other chapters: part 1

– series synopsis: Being Robin Buckley’s younger sibling had always been uneventful, up until she got herself tangled with Steve Harrington. And really, you were happy for her. She deserved friends. What was bothersome was when he got let in on small secrets like your infatuation with Eddie Munson, and decided to take it into his own hands to try and get him to pay attention to you– by pretending to be your boyfriend.

– notes: hello hello!! thank you so much for all the love on the first chapter of this series. if you haven’t read it, feel free to click the link to part one above!! i love this chapter– my jokes are stupid, and eddie is fun. no trigger warning that i can think of, so please enjoy!!

read here or on ao3

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“Pipsqueak, catch!”

There was no reason for Eddie to say catch. He had tossed it before he called out, knowing you wouldn’t have time. It only resulted in you turning your head at just the right moment for the shirt to smack onto your face. At least it was a soft object. He’d done the same thing with a soda can once, and while you managed to step out of the way, it exploded on you when it landed on the ground.

Gripping the thin cotton shirt, you dropped it on your lap with a slight scowl at the curly-haired boy. Of course, that infectious grin of his that transformed his face from serious indifference to an overwhelming brightness that made you think you had suddenly stroked out couldn’t be ignored. You ended up laughing and shaking your head exasperatedly. “Yeah, thanks for that!” You replied, standing up to tug the baseball tee over top of the shirt you were already wearing.

Your other Hellfire shirt had been stained, and it took them a while to get a new one made. And it wasn’t from the soda can, by the way. Those stains came out just fine. Instead, the culprit was a leaky pen in the middle of math class. You almost wish it had been because of the soda incident.

“White’s your colour. Innocent, pure— fitting for someone who’s never taken a single misstep. Then again, there is a demon on it. Can’t be all innocent if you’re in the ‘satanic’ D&D club.” One might think this sort of thing sounded flirty given his assessing gaze and smirk, but it was clear it wasn’t when it came out of Eddie’s mouth. It was just a taunt, a tease, and one he knew would wiggle its way under your skin.

“If you’d have tacked on virginal to that sentence, I would have kicked your ass,” you deadpanned.

His smirk stayed the same. “Didn’t need to. You just said it for me.”

Keep reading

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sagesoleen

3 years ago

obx masterlist!

Started: 8/15/21

Last Updated: 01/02/22

*My work is not to be moved from this site, copied, or transferred in any way. I work very hard on my writing and hope that my readers will understand and respect this. Thank you!

Please keep in mind that all characters in my stories are always 18+, and although I cannot monitor who reads my work, if you are not 18+ i advise that you do not engage in my page or stories.

My requests are open! I write for Rafe, JJ, and Barry :)

✩ Rafe Cameron

crazy love masterlist (series)

my girl masterlist (series)

ambivalence masterlist (series)

burnout masterlist (series)

lock the door

whipped

love affair

my one and only

good girl

save me

mine

protection

jealous

apologies

that way

✩ Barry

need you

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sagesoleen

3 years ago

Great Despair

— In which Jacob abandons you out of nowhere but returns with a big secret.

— jacob x fem!reader

——————————————————————————

Unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him, is what I would’ve said before he broke my heart. Unconditionally and irrevocably in love is what I would still say now.

It all started with not answering calls, then excuses on why he couldn’t spend time with me, then finally asking if we could talk.

The heavy weight I felt emotionally quickly turned physical as well. I knew something was up with him before he even mentioned it. I felt the way his smile no longer reached his eyes when he was around me, the way his kisses no longer stole my breath. I felt his heart no longer wanting me.

I don’t blame Bella. Why would I? She’s beautiful, and I’m sure she’s amazing if she caught Jakes eye. But I do blame Jake, I blame him for playing along while he knew deep down I wasn’t what he wanted anymore. I blame him for not trying to hide the way he felt about me was changing. I blame him for hurting me and going back on his word. I blame him for ever letting the words leave his mouth, for ever speaking of how much he loved me.

I hadn’t bothered to speak to any of the other guys since he left. Not like there were many left either way, Jared had already joined Sam’s cult, Embry following quickly after. Quil came by once to check on me, but I just made my mom send him away. I felt bad, I mean after all he was alone too, but it was just too hard, all he did was remind me of Jake. Eventually he showed up to class with more muscle, shorter hair cut, and sporting a muscle top which showed off his matching tattoo with all the others.

Going back to school was somehow worse. Being captain of the reservations only girl’s lacrosse team made it hard to drown out peoples whispers. Walking down the hall I could feel peoples eyes on me, them whispering rumors and lies to each other, judging. It was hard at first, not letting their selfish words get to me. I had no one, not Jake, not Quil, not any of the other guys. I felt completely isolated from my world, but I guess I was just going to have to get used to it because they all made it very clear they wanted nothing to do with me.

The last game of the season was coming up, it was a big tradition for everyone on the reservation to show up and support the girls as some went off to college and others stepped up and took on their new roles. Being completely honest, I wanted nothing to do with lacrosse, especially not when the whole town was going to watch you play. Despite this, I gathered up whatever dignity and courage I had left, which wasn’t much, and drove myself to the stadium. Entering the locker I put on my game face and got into my zone. It wasn’t fair to let myself drown in self pity and rub off bad energy on all the girls who had worked so hard to get us here.

“3 minutes girls!” Our coach announced as the girls started getting their gear ready. I walked into the bathroom and leaned over the sink, looking into the mirror, into my emotionless eyes. “Hey you okay?” Kim asks, making me look up at her. “Huh? Yeah I’m good, just getting into game mode.” I say while forcing a smile. “Okay um you got 1 minute left before we gotta get on the field.” She says before walking away. Kim, new girlfriend of Jared. Must be nice, being so close to the only person who could fix my broken heart. I envy her, she’s with someone whom she loves, someone who also loves her back, someone who would go to the ends of the world if she asked.

Walking onto the sideline, I shake hands with the referee and the opposing team’s head captain. After our routine pre-game huddle, the ref’s blow the whistle initialing the minute warning. I step onto the field, scanning the crowd of people on the bleachers out of instinct. I curse myself, how dumb could I be? Of course he’s not going to be at his ex girlfriends lacrosse game. But, it wouldn’t hurt to check right? I continue looking through the crowd and then, I find those beautiful brown eyes, we lock into a gaze. It feels as if the wind has been knocked out of me, I grasp my stick tighter as all the sounds around me suddenly go quiet.

I hear the high-pitched ring coming from the ref’s whistle, indicating that the game has begun. Quickly breaking our eye contact, I say a quick prayer in my head and try to focus on the game. I see our midfielder gain control of the ball and quickly pass to Kim. I run alongside the edge of the field, making my way past the center line. “OPEN!” I yell catching Kim’s attention, she nods and moves clear of any players in front of her, throwing the ball about 20 feet into the net of my stick. I quickly turn and dodge and opposing player as she attempts to shoulder check me, getting close enough of to the goal I take my chances and throw, the ball going straight over the goalies head, earning us a point.

We win the game with 6 points leading, walking towards the bench I can see my family rushing towards me from the bleachers. “Oh baby you did so good! I am so proud of my little girl.” My mom says as she pulls me in for a hug. I smile at her, pulling away from the hug and grabbing my father’s and younger sister’s arms to bring them in. “We’ll see you at home Sloan.” My father says while kissing my forehead as a goodbye. I nod and gather my gear, placing it into my gym bag. I start saying goodbyes to my teammates, “Hey, you did really good tonight.” Kim once I get to her, “Thanks you too.” I say, giving her a small smile. “Hey, um I heard about you and Jacob. I hope things work out between you and him, I know how much you two loved each other.” She says, “Oh, um thanks but I don’t think he wants anything to do with me.” I say truthfully, she gives me a sympathetic smile, she reaches out for my hand, “I hope he proves you wrong.” She says while consoling me, I force a smile and start walking away.

Opening my bedroom door, the heavy energy rushing to me. My bed’s unmade, clothes on the floor, tissues on the bed side table. I sigh, grabbing trash around the room, putting my clothes up, and changing my sheets. I guess i’m just going to have to accept the fact that this is it, we aren’t together anymore and there’s nothing I can do about it. As I finish showering and am about to get in bed, I hear small clicks coming from my window. Slowly, I make my way towards my blinds, lifting them and peaking my head to find the cause of the noise. “Jacob?” I say in shock, lifting up my window I bend down and move my head under and out the window. “What are you doing here?” I ask with a stern tone, “Can I come up Sloan?” He asks while dropping the rest of the pebbles he had collected in his right palm. I contemplate, this does not sound like a good idea, why is he even here? I thought he never wanted to hear from me again, I think in my head before slowly nodding yes. I back up and sit down on my dark green comforter, watching as he carefully climbs in through my window. I start playing with my hands nervously before looking up to him and connecting our eyes. “Ahem, look I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the way things ended. I know what I said and I know that you didn’t deserve that, It’s just complicated but…I am sorry Sloan.” He says after sitting down next to me, I take a deep breath and look at the picture sitting on my dresser. It was a picture of us, on our 1 year anniversary. We had taken a trip to Seattle and spent the whole day doing stuff around the city, ending our night at our hotel room which looked down at the city. We sat in silence for a few minutes, he stood up and headed towards my window to leave, “Jacob?” I say quietly, he stops in his tracks and slowly turns to look at me, “Do you love her?” I say while trying to fight the tears building up. “What? No, I never loved her, I never wanted her, I’ve only ever wanted you Sloan.” He says before walking towards me, kneeling in front of me and holding my hands in his. “I love you Sloan, I’m still in love with you.” He says slowly, I look into his eyes as a tear manages to slip out. He wipes it away with his thumb, cradling my face with one hand. “There’s something I have to tell you.” He says before closing his eyes and kissing both my hands. “Will you come with me?” He asks, “Okay.” I say, placing my hand on the side of his neck, feeling his warm skin under mine.

“What are we doing in the woods Jake?” I asks hesitantly as we walk further away from my house, slowly becoming just an blurry view in the distance. “I have to show you something, it’ll all make sense after.” He says while still holding onto my hand, “Okay this is good, now just stand there, and don’t move.” He says while stepping away, I look around us and see nothing but darkness and trees. I turn back around and see him taking off his clothes. “Jake what are you doing?” I say, trying to maintain eye contact and respect his modesty, “It’s okay Sloan, I promise.” He says while standing a couple yard away from me, completely bare. I swallow thickly and try to maintain the rest of the body heat I had left. My jaw drops as I watch Jake turn from the body I love into a wolf standing about 3 feet taller than me, I slowly starts backing up. He whimpers and lowers his head, making eye contacts with me. I hesitate, before slowly making my way towards him, placing a hand atop of his head, slowly petting him. After a couple minutes he backs up and somehow changes back into the boy I know. “I couldn’t tell you until I knew, I had to make sure it was you.” I furrow my eyebrows, “So you turn into a huge wolf then….I’m guessing all the legends are true then? Even the pale face ones?” I say questionably, he finishes putting his clothes back on before nodding. “Yeah they are, but there’s one that I wanted to talk about…..I don’t know if my dad ever told this one at a council meeting but do you know what imprinting is?” He asks me while reaching out for my hand, we start the walk back to my house but in no rush. “No I don’t think so.” I say looking up at him, “Well, basically, it’s a wolf thing but apparently we all have imprints, I guess you could say their like our soulmates. We can be whatever they need, a friend, a brother, a father, even a lover. The gods will align you two to somehow cross paths, just how Leah’s cousin came to visit randomly and within the next 2 months she was married to Same.” I slowly nod, “Sam didn’t want to hurt Leah, he loved her, but the imprint is too strong to deny. It becomes mentally and physically painful. Like all the cells in your body are fighting back, trying to push you towards something. And when you do find your imprint it’s like nobody else compares, nothing else matters except them. The world goes silent, air goes still, the world completely stops. All you want from that point on is for your imprint to be safe, to protect them, to love them.” He says passionately, our hands still connected. “So, I’m guessing Bella is your imprint..” I say sheepishly, trying to mask my heartbreak. He surprisingly laughs, then reveals a toothy grin. “You are so clueless aren’t you.” He says boastingly, “It’s you. I imprinted on you.” He stops us from walking and steps in front of me, grabbing both my hands. “Ignoring you was a mistake, breaking up was a mistake. You don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you, but I had to protect you until I knew for sure it was you. I mean even now I’m going against Sam’s orders. But Sloan, I am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you.” He says emotionally, I look up to him, “You don’t know how bad I’ve wanted you to say that.” I say smiling making him let out a small chuckle.

“I will never leave you again, I promise you Sloan Deere.” He says as I lay in his chest, both of us basking in the comfort of my bed. “I will spend the rest of my life completely devoted to you, if you’ll have me.” He says, gently pushing my face up to meet his, I look into his eyes and can almost see how genuine his words are. I take a deep breath in and kiss him. Our lips move in sync, his sweet taste engulfing my thoughts. I slowly pull away while placing a hand on the back of his neck, “I love you Jake.” I say before looking into his eyes, “I love you too Sloan.” He says, slowly connect our lips.

Between Friends

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

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 11K

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

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

𝐍𝐎𝐖

Rooster couldn’t control his bouncing leg.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not once, not ever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, looking anywhere else other than at him.

“How are things with your Dad?”

You offer him a shrug.

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

“Is it a guy?” Bradley tries again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your first…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The girl who just asked him to be her first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” Bradley says, honestly.

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

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

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

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

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

And he means it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What a stud,” you tease.

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

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

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

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

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

He wipes his hands on his pants.

“You sure?” he asks again.

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

He nods, “Then I guess we just…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bradley?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He notices. Of course he notices.

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

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

“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you.”

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

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

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

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

In his bed. Because of him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a smartass,” he grins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That feels nice,” you sigh, airily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he fills you with two fingers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod before he even finishes the question.

“Do you have-”

He nods before you finish yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, your fingers stroking his sides.

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

He takes a breath.

And then he’s shifting forward and pressing in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Little by little. Inch by inch.

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

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

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

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

“Shit,” he curses under his breath.

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

He reads the question in your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bradley, I-I think… I feel-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The hum of the fan.

The beam of warm afternoon light through the blinds.

The smell of the now cold coffee on his nightstand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything for you, kid.”

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

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

It was just… something between friends.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin because it feels like a checkmate.

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

He looks thunderstruck.

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

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

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

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

“June,” you promise.

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

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

𝐍𝐎𝐖

You avoid Rooster for the rest of the night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here and now,” he confirms.

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

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

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

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

You see him fight back a smirk.

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

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

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

You feel his finger graze the back of your hand.

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

“My tattoo? Bradley, what-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks from your eyes down to your parted lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kisses you like he knows you.

Because he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

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

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sagesoleen

4 years ago

party mishaps and helpful brothers

summary: when you’re unable to help yourself, your best friend’s brother’s the one to help.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, spiking a drink, illusions to assault (not graphic but it’s implied indirectly) and typos, probably.

notes: this probably isn’t in rafe’s character but it’s my world and for now, you’re all living in it. also im so bad at titles ahsjakskl.

add yourself to my taglist!

Rafe Cameron did not consider you a friend. You were just his younger sister’s best friend and a Pogue and as far as he was concerned, you were nothing but a side character in his one man show.

There was nothing special about you in his eyes. You hadn’t made an attempt to make yourself present in his life and he felt no reason to pay attention to you. You were the friend of his annoying little sister who happened to spend more time in his house than he would’ve liked. He could recount the times he could hear you and Sarah laugh a little too loudly in her room, when you would walk downstairs and eat “his” food, and when you’d let yourself out of his house early in the morning.

It’s not that you’d bother associating with the brunette who seemed to look for trouble when he was bored. He was undeniably attractive, there was no doubt about that, but you had barely uttered a sentence since you met him for the first time two summers ago.

It wasn’t like Rafe would willingly associate himself with you at public events either. You two had your separate worlds and preferred to stay in them. There lay no malice between the both of you, but you were his annoying little sister’s best friend and he was her arrogant brother. Rafe didn’t need an excuse to talk to you because he didn’t want one.

But that was before he witnessed someone spike your drink.

Keep reading

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sagesoleen

3 years ago

'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

624 notes View Post

sagesoleen

4 years ago

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.

764 notes View Post

sagesoleen

11 months ago

Bets & Bargains - Part 8

Series Masterlist

➪in which bradley shows you just how skilled he is when he gets you alone, and you both find out a little more about your past relationships.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 5.5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Isn’t the flannel I gave you enough?” Bradley asked with a laugh from his place on his bed, watching as you rummaged around in his closet. “What are you doing?”

“You seriously don’t have a UVA hoodie? You go here, don’t you?” You ask instead of answering his questions, your body being covered in the very flannel he gave you this morning before class. It was bigger on you than it was on him, so instead of it ending near your waist like it did with him, it fell to your mid thigh.

He laughed again, leaning back against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him. “Yeah, but I don’t have a hoodie,”

You turn around and glare at him, stopping your search in his messy closet as you make your way to his unmade bed. “Well, get one,” you say and crawl over to him, sitting on your knees next to his thighs.

“Why?” He asked, reaching over and placing his hand on your bare leg, your shorts doing nothing to cover your smooth skin from him. “So you can steal it, too?”

You smirk and lean over, ghosting your lips against his as you nod. “Exactly,” you answer, kissing him quickly before getting back up and heading towards his closet again.

Bradley grunted at the short lived kiss, his eyes dipping down to the backs of your thighs as you turned away from him. “I already told you, babes,” he mumbled, propping one arm behind his head. “You won’t find one in there.”

You wave him off as your eyes lock onto something hung up on the far side of the closet, and you disappear behind the door for a few seconds before coming back out. “No, but look what I found instead,” you say in a tone that had his jeans tightening a bit. That and the way you bite down on your lip and hold up his football jersey he wore all throughout high school.

“Oh,” he trailed off, forgetting he even had that in there. He hadn’t worn it or seen it since he moved into the frat house two years ago.

“And look at that,” you say, more so to yourself as you turn the hanger around and look at the back of the red jersey. “It’s got your name on it and everything.”

“Yeah,” he huffed, bending one of his knees and propping his foot up. “The name everyone here calls me by.”

“Everyone but me,” you correct, using your freehand to start unbuttoning his flannel he was sure he was never getting back.

“‘Cause you’re special,” he said, watching with darkening eyes as you shrug off the patterned fabric and let it drop to the floor. You were left in a floral crop top for only a few seconds before you took his jersey off the hanger and slipped it over your shoulders. “Fuck.”

The smile you gave him when you looked up had his jeans tightening even more as you held your arms out. “Well?” You asked, turning around and showing off his last name on your back. “What do you think?”

Bradley swallowed harshly, his hand itching to touch you as you spun to face him again. “I think...” he trailed off, meeting your eyes as he shifted on his bed. “You need to come here.”

You bite your lip again before leaning against the still open closet door, your fingers tracing along the frame of it. “But it’s so fun watching you squirm from over here,”

“Y/n,” he muttered, making your eyes widen in excitement. “Get over here. Now.”

You press your lips together and push away from the door, slowly making your way over to him as if you knew exactly what you were doing to him. “Did I do something wrong?” You sweetly asked, placing one knee on the bed as you kept a few inches of space between you and him.

“No,” he managed to answer, reaching out and wrapping his hand around your wrist. He pulls you fully onto the bed and onto his lap, your body settling on his similar to the way it was in his Jeep. “No, baby, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

He was answering a question you had teasingly asked him, and he knew that you were well aware of the fact that you held a certain power over him in this moment. “You sure?” You asked as you braced your hands on his shoulders.

“Shut up,” Bradley murmured, catching the smallest glimpse of your grin before he pressed his lips to yours. The content moan you release against his mouth and the way your body slowly rolled on top of his had Bradley squeezing his eyes tightly shut, still in disbelief that you were able to make him feel like this.

He had no idea why, but the sight of you wearing something he used to care so much about was doing things to him, and the way you were wearing his fucking last name was almost too much. It was as if you were his; his to claim, to brand, and he supposed you actually are since he asked you to be his girlfriend yesterday.

You’re his girlfriend.

Bri had dumped him a week ago this morning, and he had already found himself another girlfriend. Was that too fast? Maybe, but Bradley honestly didn’t just see you as his girlfriend; he sees you as the person he clicked with pretty much instantly and has a lot of fun with. The things he’s felt with you, done with you, and talked to you about had never been a factor in his relationship with Bri, and maybe that made her reason to break up with him a good one since he clearly didn’t feel as strongly about her as he initially thought he did.

Bradley moves one of his hands down to your hip, then to the back of your thigh. He could feel the goosebumps that formed on your skin and he smirked against your lips. “Have I told you how gorgeous you are yet?” He asked as he slid this right thigh in between both of yours, pulling away from your mouth and running the tip of his nose along the side of your neck.

“Um,” you trailed off breathlessly, clearly dropping your mocking attitude and making him grin since he knew he had you right where he wanted you. “No, not yet.”

Bradley ran his tongue along your neck, inhaling the rose scent of your perfume that went very well with the floral shirt you had on under his jersey. “Well,” he murmured, kissing the skin below your ear. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

The moan you let out went right to his cock, and without another word being said, he turned you over and pinned your hands above your head and under his pillow. “Bradley,” you whispered, leaning up and trying to kiss him but he pulled away with a smirk on his lips.

You huff out a breath as he kisses down your neck, sucking on your pulse point until your skin was a deep red. He marked you like you had done to him on Friday, and he soothed the irritated skin with his tongue afterwards. “I know,” he cooed, beaming at the mark he knew would darken by the next time he sees you.

He gently pushes the jersey up until your lower stomach is exposed to his relentless mouth, his lips pressing on every new inch of skin revealed. You moan softly, hesitantly reaching out to him and making him lift his head. “Um,” you trailed off, giving him an embarrassed smile. “Can I…?”

Bradley smiled at you and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the area below your belly button, and it grew when he saw the way you shuddered. “You can touch me,” he answered the question you didn’t finish asking, taking your hand in his and guiding it to the top of his head when he saw the way you still looked hesitant. “I’m your boyfriend now, you can touch me wherever you want.”

He was trying to get a point across to you, but even Bradley was still in a bit of shock that he is already officially dating you. Is it too quick? Probably. Did he honestly, truly care? Not a single fucking bit.

You relaxed once he reminded you that it was more than okay to touch him, and the sight of you leaning back against his pillow was enough to have his mind clouding over with sinful thoughts. Even though you pretty much established it, he still asked, “Can I touch you?”

Bradley watched as you bit down on your lip and nodded slowly, trailing your fingers through his hair. “Yeah,” you answered verbally consented before he could ask you for it, and that was all he really needed.

The hot makeout and grind session he had with you in the front seat of his Jeep didn’t really allow him to explore your body like this, and after being so into you from the second he saw you, he felt like he was a starved man. Now that he had your full consent and had established a mutual understanding, he wasn’t holding back. He pushed the jersey and your floral shirt up higher until it was just barely still covering your bra, his head dipping down to kiss all over your ribcage.

Your skin was so smooth and it smelled like a mix of roses and coconut, a scent Bradley didn’t realize he loved so much. His lips were pressed to your hip when his hand slid up your thigh and began to unzip your jean shorts, and that was when your pretty moans stopped and your body jolted a bit. “Wait,” you gasped quietly, reaching down with the hand that wasn’t in his hair and grabbing his wrist.

Bradley stopped instantly, lifting his head from your kiss coated stomach and looking up at you. “Sorry,” he apologized, moving his hand away from your unzipped shorts. “Too fast?” You hadn’t actually mentioned how far you wanted this to go, and Bradley was more than okay with you stopping it now. He was in no rush right now, and whatever you wanted was what he wanted.

When he began to lift his body from between your thighs, you whimpered. “Wait,” you said again, softly tugging on his hair. He paused, his shoulders pressed to your knees as he waited for you to continue. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m being weird.” You mumbled and Bradley laughed, turning his head to kiss the side of your knee.

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” he murmured, sliding his wrist away from your grasp and taking your hand in his. “Just tell me what you want.”

A pink tint ghosted over your face as you pressed your lips together. “Is it okay if we….don’t rush the sex thing?” You asked and Bradley opened his mouth to tell you that he was more than okay with that, but you continued before he could say anything. “I’m not, like, a virgin or anything…I just…I really like you, Bradley, and I don’t want to rush into things, you know?”

Bradley smiled up at you and kissed your knee again, humming in agreement. “Oh, trust me, I know,” he grinned, resting his head against your thigh. “I really like you, too, and I don’t want to rush things either.”

The smile you gave him had his heart beating wildly in his chest as you nodded. “Okay,” you whispered, trailing your fingers along his cheek. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

“‘Course, babes,” he mumbled, reaching up to tug his jersey back down so it was covering your stomach again. “Do you want to stop then?”

Bradley went to get up again, but you stopped him once more. “Well, I didn’t say that…” The hint of nervousness mixed with sultry had him settling in between your legs again, a teasing smile on his lips.

“So what are you saying?” He asked as he ran his index finger along the waistline of your shorts.

You bit your lip again and he had to hold back a groan. “We could still...you know,” you trail off and whine - you actually whined in a way that had his jeans suddenly feeling a whole lot tighter - when he just raised his brow. “Don’t make me say it, please.”

Bradley huffed out a laugh before simply asking, “Do you want me to go down on you?”

He could hear the way your breath got caught in your throat, and he guessed you weren’t used to someone being so forward, but you would have to get used to that now that you’re dating him, because he considered himself to be a very forward guy.

Your thighs twitched a bit, like you were aching to rub them together to create friction. “Um,” you mumbled, scratching the top of his head as you ran your fingers through his hair. “If…you want to.”

Bradley smiled and kissed the inside of your thigh, noticing how it twitched once again. “But what do you want?”

You pressed your lips together again before answering in a quiet tone. “I want you to go down on me,”

He grinned at the very small fraction of confidence in your tone before he lifted his body and pressed your thighs together, his fingers hooking through your shorts belt loops. You watched with your teeth digging into your lip as Bradley slowly pulled the jean fabric down your legs, and his eyes darkened a bit at the pretty black lace that covered your core.

After craving you for days on end, Bradley wasn’t in the mood to hold back right now. He leaned back down and pressed his lips to the fabric, kissing your clit through your panties. Your stomach tensed a bit and your breath hitched, and he wondered if Luke had been doing his job in keeping you satisfied with this part of your relationship.

He assumed you and Luke slept together since you were dating for so long, but the way you were already whimpering for him made Bradley think your ex was pretty shit in bed.

What a shame, because Bradley was effortlessly getting hard from just the sound of you.

Bradley ran the tip of his nose down the lace, feeling how damp the fabric was before running his tongue along it and making it even more wet. “Bradley,” you moaned his name in the same way you did the first time he got you alone like this on Friday, and it sounded just as hot as it did then.

You whimpered again and propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him with wide eyes. He met your gaze with a small smirk as he continued to tease you by kissing you through the lace. He licked and sucked until the fabric was soaked from both you and him, and only then did he slowly pull it down your legs and let it drop to the floor beside his bed.

The sight of your lower half being completely exposed to him had Bradley feeling a little feral, and he couldn’t bring himself to wait any longer. He met your gaze, your eyes full of lust and anticipation, as his mouth met your core, his tongue poking out to taste you.

He groaned. He actually groaned at the taste of you. He’d been craving to find out how sweet you were when he watched you fall apart on his lap in the front seat, and now he knew.

Your quiet gasp had him refraining from bucking against the bed, his hands sliding under your thighs as he pressed his face closer to you. “Oh, God,” he heard you whisper and it only fueled him.

His tongue slipped out and circled your clit, the sensitive nerves throbbing against it. You were already so worked up, he could tell. You were shaking a bit and your hand was tight in his hair as he slowly ran the muscle up and down your folds. “You taste so good, baby,” he murmured, feeling the way your body jolted at his words. “So fucking sweet.”

You draped your legs over his shoulders with the help of his hands, and then you were back to tugging on his hair. “Bradley,” you moaned when he took your clit between his lips and sucked harshly.

“You like that?” He asked as he pulled away to glance up at you. When you nodded and shifted against the bed, he leaned back down and did it again, wanting to find out all the ways he can make you squirm. He wanted to find out what you liked, what got you off and what makes you get loud.

With that being said, Bradley could tell you were holding back right now. You were biting harshly on your lip and he could see the way you were tightening your chest. He trailed his hand up your thigh as he pulled his mouth away from you, using his fingers to gather up your wetness. “You’re trying to be quiet,” he observed, pushing just the tip of his index finger through your folds.

You look down at him with flushed, red cheeks as you press your lips together. “I…”

“Don’t be embarrassed to talk to me, babes,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your hip, leaving behind a wet mark.

You whimper as he slowly sinks his whole finger into you, and you felt so tight, he wasn’t entirely convinced you’d ever been fully worked open yet. “I’m just not used to...being loud,” you confess, leaning further back on your elbows. “Luke didn’t…he didn’t really…”

Bradley understood what you were saying without you actually needing to finish that sentence, and it was just another reason for him to strongly dislike your ex. “You can be loud with me,” he whispered, beginning to gently fuck his finger into you. “I want you to be.”

The moan you let out at that was just what he’d been wanting to hear, and then you were blushing again. “W-what about your roommates? Eli-”

“They’re not here,” he promised, not wanting to hear another guy’s name come from your mouth when he was currently trying to make you come with his. Hearing Luke’s name was bad enough. “You can be as loud as you want to be, baby.”

Maybe he was trying to get you there with his use of that nickname since you told him how much you love hearing him call you it, and maybe that was cruel, but he couldn’t bring himself to care since you slowly fell back on his pillow and let out a moan that was little louder than your previous ones.

Bradley grinned and leaned back down. “There you go,” he praised and you only whimpered louder. You had a thing for praise, he could tell, and he couldn’t wait to explore that further with you when and if you decide you want to.

He softly circled your clit with his tongue as he slid his middle finger into your tight walls to join his other one, and you arched your back and clung onto his hair with a firmer grip. “Bradley,” you moaned and closed your eyes as he slowly but surely got you there. “Oh, my God.”

He hummed against your nerves, and the way your body trembled at it gave him the indication that you were close. He continued to tease your clit as he fucked his fingers a bit faster into you, loving the way your thighs jolted with barely-there control. “You’re so pretty,” he mumbled, kissing your swollen clit. “Taste so good.”

You became a whimpering, whining mess as he fucked you with his tongue alongside his fingers, and your hand tightened on his hair. “Bradley,”

He moaned at the sound of his name falling from your lips, savoring the sweet taste of you. “Are you gonna come?” He asked, glancing up at you as you nodded desperately.

Bradley had to use his free hand to pin your thigh down as you tried to close your legs, your volume growing with each second that passed. “Fuck,” you gasped, gripping his pillow with the hand that wasn’t currently pulling his hair out.

“Do it,” he coaxed softly, swirling his tongue against you. “Come for me. Let me taste how sweet you are.”

The sound you let out was one that could be found in a porno, and then he felt your release coat his tongue. You lifted your back off the bed as you came, broken whimpers escaping your lips as you gently grinded against his face. “Fuck,” you cried, shaking as he finally pulled away and sat back on his knees.

Your eyes were wide as you glanced down and noticed how tight his jeans had gotten, and you let out uneven breaths as you gestured to his obvious hard-on. “Do you want…want me to-”

“It’s okay,” Bradley hummed, slowly pulling his fingers out of you and nearly groaning at the wetness coated on them. “You catch your breath, baby, I’ll be fine.”

Then he took his fingers into his mouth and cleaned you off them, keeping eye contact with you the whole time. “Bradley…”

He smiled as he pulled his fingers out of his mouth and traced his bottom lip with his tongue. “Been wanting to do that since Friday night,” he confessed and took in how fucked out you looked; thighs spread, core wet from what he just did to it, your hair messy and his damn jersey on your body. “Damn, baby, if you could see what I see right now…fuck.”

You let out a quiet laugh as he helped you get your lower half dressed again before he moved to lay next to you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled your body against his as your hand trailed down the front of his shirt. “You’re kind of stupidly good at that,” you mumble and he grunted with a smile.

“Am I?” He teased as you looked back down at his less obvious boner. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll go away soon.” It probably wouldn’t.

You sigh and nod, looking up at him with a small, pretty smile before you are leaning up and kissing him deeply. “Next time, it’s my turn,” you stated and he held back a groan as you kissed him again.

Tuesday was an easy school day for you.

Classes flew by, and before you knew it you were leaving Mr. Clarke’s class at three in the afternoon and heading back to your place. Sam was nowhere to be found and you let out a sigh as you dropped your bag onto the couch and sat next to it.

You propped your legs up on the coffee table, your mind going back to last night when Bradley got you off with his tongue and fingers. He made it look so easy and had you shaking and whimpering within seconds. It was hard not to compare him to Luke, who had only gone down on you twice in the three years you were together.

When Bradley pointed out how quiet you were being, you were instantly reminded of all the times Luke would hush you or put his hand over your mouth during sex so only his grunts were heard. Bradley was so different. It was like he could almost get off to the sounds of your moans, while Luke preferred not to hear them.

Bradley made you feel so good last night, you weren’t sure you had ever felt like that in your entire life. It should concern you, but you were thriving off it, happy that he was the only one who had gotten you off so good. Everything felt amazing with him, so you weren’t entirely surprised he was able to kick off your sex life like that.

To put it simply, sex had never been a big deal to you in the past, but now you couldn’t fucking wait to do more things with him.

You quickly became bored and reached for your phone, smiling at the picture of Bradley’s scrunched up face in the picture you set as his contact.

When’s your class over today? I’m bored :(

Fratley ❤️❤️: It was over at 1. I’m in town right now, heading back. Milkshakes? ;)

You groaned at how he easily just released butterflies in your stomach without even being here, and you quickly answered him as you bit down on your lip,

Please. And I need to start paying attention to your class schedule.

Fratley ❤️❤️: You and me both… be there soon.

You smiled and leaned back against the couch as you began flipping through random channels on the small TV, missing the bigger one in Bradley’s living room.

Not long after, there were a couple knocks on the door, and you shifted as you called out, “It’s open,” then Bradley was walking in with two milkshakes in one hand, a bouquet of daisies in the other, and his school bag slung over his shoulder. “Oh, look who’s knocking now.”

Bradley shook his head with an eye roll as he set the shakes down onto the coffee table and handed you the flowers. “I don’t know if you lock your door or not,” he defended himself as he dropped his bag onto the area rug and sat next to you, leaning over to kiss you quickly.

You smile against his lips and look at the daisies when you pull away. “These are pretty,”

Bradley gave them a quick glance before grabbing his chocolate shake and leaning back, draping his arm over your shoulders. “Something pretty for my girl,” he answered simply as if it was no big deal, but you were three seconds away from pouncing on him.

You bring the flowers to your nose before whispering, “I love them,” and nuzzling against his side. “Thank you. And thank you for the shake.”

Bradley hummed as he kissed the top of your head, ditching the paper straw and just sipping the drink right from the cup. “You’re welcome,”

You sit in silence for a few seconds, and you thought now might be a good time to have the whole ‘sex’ conversation with him. After setting the flowers onto the table next to your milkshake, you lean against his side again and look up at him, watching as he meets your gaze with a smile. “So…about last night,” you began, playing with the buttons on his green flannel that matched the blue one you had on your desk chair.

Bradley smirked and leaned over to set his drink down before turning back to you. “Yeah?” He teased, reaching over to grab your waist. “You want a second round?”

You bit your lip and laughed as he leaned down to kiss the side of your neck, right on the spot he left a hickey last night. “I wanted to talk about…that,” you murmured and he stopped kissing you pretty quickly, pulling away to look you in the eyes.

“Did I overstep?” He asked, loosening his grip on your waist. “Were you not ready? I’m sorry, I should’ve-”

You shake your head and move closer to him. “No, it was perfect, and you were perfect,” you assure him and watch as a faint blush formed on his cheeks and the way he leaned back against the couch again.

“Perfect, huh?”

You nod and move so your legs are draped over his thighs. “I wanted to talk about the whole sex thing,” you muttered, suddenly embarrassed. Was this really necessary? But now Bradley had given you his full attention, and you were quickly learning that it was okay to embarrass yourself in front of him. “Like I said last night, I’m not a virgin, I’ve had sex. Luke was my first and…my only.”

Bradley’s eyes widened at bit at that but he didn’t say anything to make you feel even more embarrassed, so you went on,

“As you know, we were together for three years, and he only did what you did to me last night twice during our whole relationship,”

“Twice?” Bradley asked in disbelief, the hand of his arm that was around your shoulder beginning to trace random shapes onto the skin of your bicep. “That’s it?”

You nodded and looked away, wanting to grab your milkshake and press the cool cup against your warm face. “And he and I didn’t really have sex much. You could tell last night that I was holding back, and that was because Luke didn’t like it when I got too loud in bed,” you confessed and looked back at Bradley, seeing the way his brows had furrowed. “And he…told me that he wasn’t really satisfied with our sex life, so that’s why we didn’t do it much.”

Bradley raised his brows and scoffed, looking at the TV before back at you. “You know, I really, really don’t like your ex,” he muttered. “He sounds like a real asshole.”

You shake your head and play with his flannel buttons again. “He wasn’t all that bad…he was good to me, he just wasn’t happy with that part of our relationship,” you shrugged, looking up at his brown eyes. “So, I’m letting you know now that if, after last night, you don’t want to do that again or anything else with me, I totally get it.”

“Babes,” Bradley let out another laugh of disbelief. “I’ve been wanting to do that for days. Just the quick hookup we had in my car was enough to have me craving you in that way, and last night? Baby, last night was amazing. I loved hearing you get loud for me, and I loved touching you and kissing you like that. Of course I want to do it again.”

You blushed and pressed your lips together. “Really?”

“Yeah, baby, really,” he confirmed, gently gripping your chin and kissing you deeply. “I definitely want to feel you come on my tongue again. One hundred percent.”

Your blush deepens as you bury your face against his neck. “Bradley,”

He laughed, the deep rumble making you hold back a moan. “Listen, I’m not Luke, okay? If you want to get loud, fucking scream for me, baby. The louder the better,” he murmured and you pulled back to look up at him. “And if you want me to go down on you, just say the words and I’ll gladly do it. I’m so into you, Y/n. I’ll take anything I can get.”

His words were everything you didn’t know you needed to hear, and you reached up to caress his face with a lazy smile on your face. “You’re too good to be true,”

Bradley laughed again and looked down. “I guess it’s my turn to talk about my past experiences, too, right?”

You quickly shake your head, “You don’t have to-”

“No, I want to,” he said as he shifted and and trailed his hand up and down your leg. “Here comes that super embarrassing story I mentioned before our second date.”

Your second date - the one at Five Guys, which is ironically where he had gotten the milkshakes you were sipping from now. “The one about your possessive ex who leaves hickeys that look extremely painful?” You teased, poking the faint mark you had left on his throat on Friday.

Bradley nodded, looking down at you with a small grin. “Yeah, Bri. Her and I went out for almost a year, and she broke up with me because I didn’t put enough effort into our relationship,” he started. “She was probably right, since I’ve taken you out more than I took her out in eleven months.”

You covered your mouth with your hand as you waited for him to go on, a sense of pride filling you from his words.

“When she broke up with me, which was right after we had sex, by the way, she told me that sex is all I’m good for and that I’m a terrible boyfriend,” he said and now it was your turn to furrow your brows. “She said something about coming back to me just so I can fuck her again, because I’m apparently good in bed, then she went and got with another guy in front of me, in my own house.”

“Jesus, Bradley,” you mumbled as you moved closer to him. “I think I know how you feel about Luke now since I feel the same way about Bri.”

He laughed, shaking his head before burying his face against the side of your neck. “Yeah, we sure know how to pick them, huh?”

You laugh, too, before taking in his words, and a feeling of jealousy slowly creeped into you. “I’m just going to say it now, if she thinks she can come back just so you can fuck her…” You trailed off and he pulled away from your neck with an amused look on his face. “That is not going to happen.”

Bradley hummed and nodded, leaning in to kiss you. “Agreed,” he mumbled against your lips, grabbing your waist afterwards and pulling you onto his lap. “Now come here. I’ve been thinking about you since last night.”

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sagesoleen

4 years ago