Tell me why there are no fics about Channing Tatum?? Like there’s one and it’s a male reader, but there are none with fem ones. It’s actually insane especially when I’m in such a Channing Tatum kick rn. Like it’d actually insane!!! If you write please write some whether it’s about him in “ She’s the man” or 21/22 jump street. Don’t even get me started on there being none for Magic Mike!!! It’s actually insane because hes so fine!!! Like someone has to agree!!
You know, I had this, like, vision of me throwing bullet TDs to you, dude, and then all these fans just started going, like…(quiet screaming) Zook! Mcquaid! Zook! Mcquaid! And they were chanting and chanting, and then the goalposts came down. Dude? I have had that exact vision, like, my entire life.
pairing ! fratboy!jenko (undercover as brad mcquaid) x maneater!reader
summary ! when ‘brad’ spots you at a party, zook turns his attraction into a game of beer pong.
warnings ! 18+, slight suggestive themes, frat boy atmosphere, cursing, jenko undercover so his name is brad lol. fem!reader.
wc ! 804
author's note ! first channing tatum character oneshot let's goooo.
to be added to my taglist.
The air in Zeta was pounding. Booze was everywhere, women all over, and frat boys tearing up the place. You were shotgunning a beer against Rooster, who was losing. From across the room, Zook and McQuaid were playing beer pong, Brad sinking the last ball into their opponents cup.
The crowd went wild, and Brad and Zook jumped into the air, chest-bumping. "Dude, you're a beast!" Zook shouted, shaking Brad's shoulders.
The crowd from across the room roared as you finished off your beer first, crushing the can and throwing it on the ground, tossing your hands in the air. "Suck my dick, Rooster!" You laughed, letting two frat guys pick you up on their shoulders and spin you around.
Rooster cursed, tossing his can on the ground after crushing it. You threw your head back, laughing. Brad and Zook's eyes scanned over the scene, Brad's landing on you. "Who's that?" he asked Zook.
Zook chuckled, hitting his chest. "No chance, man. She's a killer. Like, majorly. Senior and I've heard of max three guys who've gotten past a kiss." Brad looked at Zook, shrugging. Zook shook his head, cupping his hands over his mouth. "Yo, Y/N!"
Your head turned toward Zook, and you chuckled, tapping the frat boys' shoulders to put you down. Once on the ground, you walked over to the two, eyeing Brad up and down. "What's up, Zook?"
"You met Brad yet?"
You crossed your arms, shaking your head. "You're the guy who shoulder checked the fuck out of Rooster at Walk-On Day, right?"
Brad chuckled, nodding. "Yep."
You tilted your head. "You're hot. Brad, was it?"
Zook smiled, hitting your shoulder softly. "You should see his beer pong game. He's better than you."
You scoffed. "No chance."
Brad raised an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?" He glanced between you and Zook, a smirk on his face.
"I think that's a challenge, dude," Zook responded.
You shrugged. "What's the win?"
"You win, I do your bidding for a week. He wins, he gets a kiss," Zook proposed.
A pause. "Okay, bet. Let's go."
You walked to one side of the table, setting up the cups. Zook whistled, hitting Brad's chest. "Better win dude, I'm not carrying her cheerleading shit for a week," he told him, and Brad laughed.
The game set up quickly, and then it was on. For a little bit, you were far in the lead, and then just like that, Brad was right behind you, neck and neck. Your squad was cheering for you, and the boys were crowded around Brad, shouting at him.
"Could've picked a better beer, Zook," you told him as you downed a cup.
Zook shrugged, winking at you. He was trying to throw you off your game. Your eyes flickered between Brad and the table as you played, a small smirk on your face. You were sure you had this in the bag. No one had beaten you in two years. No way some Freshman was.
You each had one cup left, and you ended up missing your shot. You cursed under your breath, watching as Brad took his shot. The ball sunk, and you groaned, downing the cup of beer. Brad and Zook shouted, chest-bumping again as the frat boys went crazy.
You shook your head, laughing. "Well played." You walked over to Brad, looking up at him. "Deal's a deal." You grabbed his face, pulling him down to your level and pressing your lips to his.
The kiss was supposed to be quick and simple, but hell, he was a great kisser. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you, hand on your ass. You deepened the kiss, ignoring the whistles from Zook and Rooster and the murmurs of the crowd as you tugged on his hair.
His tongue slipped into your mouth and you groaned softly, following suit. The kiss lasted about thirty more seconds, before you slowly pulled back, biting your lip. His eyes stayed on you, flickering between yours and your lips.
"Damn," he mumbled.
"Zook, marker me," you said, looking at him. Zook jumped up, whooping as he grabbed a marker from the table. He tossed it to you, and you uncapped it, grabbing Brad's arm.
You scribbled your number down on his inner-forearm, capping the marker and tossing it back to Zook. You grabbed the bandana that was hanging out of your pocket, tying it around his wrist. "Call me sometime," you told him, turning around and walking over to your squad.
Brad stood there, watching as you walked away. Rooster and Zook came up behind him, hollering at him as they shook him. "Dude, she just branded you!" Rooster told him, chuckling.
"W-what?" Brad asked, shaking his head and looking between the two of them.
"That"—Zook pointed toward the bandana tied around his wrist—"my bro, is a brand. Means no other cheerleader can touch you. She just claimed your ass!"
Brad looked across the room at you, and your eyes met his, winking.
I miss Jody Domergue. I won't even lie to ya. I miss him. But he doesn't have brain custody this week. "Who does?" You ask? Oh, Jenko. Y'know, from 21 Jump Street? He's my twin. Y'know, if I was a hot 28 year old undercover cop. I go to work, Jenko, I come home, Jenko, bedtime? You guessed it, Jenko. I love him so much. Greg Jenko, come home, the kids miss you. OUR kids. I said it. And one day I WILL post actual writing about you. Promise, babe 💔
Summary: You just wanted someone to talk to, and Brad needed help with his paper.
Warning: brief sex talk, kind of a make out, meet and kiss !!! Lowkey rushed and NOT proof read
Word Count: 1,658
Note: I wanted to keep the reader as gender neutral as possible (which should be the default for x Reader anyway but that's just my opinion)
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
It was WAY too late to be bothering anyone. It was three am for God's sake, and your eyes burned like you just went swimming in chlorine. Your body was exhausted as it melted into the shitty, reused mattress, but your brain had a plethra of ideas running wild. Embarrassing memories, projects you'll never finish, that stupid football player you ran into a few days ago and his dumb stupid cute smile, those horror video rabbit holes you keep getting sucked into when your alone in your dorm.
Usually, the dark didn't bother you, but after seeing too many flinching shadows in the corner of your eye, you flicked on the little lamp by your bed. Your roommates bed was empty, meaning they were most likely out ruining their partners back, leaving you alone... Which somehow made the little bit of darkness left in the room worse.
Your fingers twitched before you grabbed your phone off the bedside table. Hitting the button to turn on your screen was equal to turning on the sun. After turning the brightness down, and rubbing your poor, abused eyes, you went straight to your favorite messaging app. Everyone was inactive. Again, three am, it made sense.
A sigh left you, one hand still rubbing the misery from your eye while you scrolled down the chats. There was one green bubble with the contact name Jock 322. Right. This new hot-shot football player who you bumped into in the dormitory hallway. And then again on the sidewalk. And then outside the library- and that third time, he made a stupid comment on fate... Or something, you were busy staring at his eyes, then he slipped you his phone number.
And you did not get his name, or maybe he did and you were just distracted by his lopsided smile. But he wrote his dorm number on the ticket with his phone number. And it's been on your mind ever since. You two had only talked a little, mostly when he needed homework help.
....Might as well.
You clicked on his chat after very little debating on the ethics of messaging someone you barely know and typing a simple "hey". Your thumb hovered over the send button, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. Every second made your heart race faster- what- look, what was the worst that happened? He says nothing? It's fine. He's up. Whatever.... But a whole minute passed before you finally hit send. You dropped your phone onto your chest and covered your too-warm face.
Nah. There was no reason he should be fucking with your head this much- not a dude who you didn't even know the name of...... But fuck did you want to get to know him.
You picked up your phone again to simply distract yourself from the fuck up when you see.... He actually already replied. Really quick. A just as simple "hi! :D" greated you........... Oh God, he's adorable.
While you debated on how to reply, he was texting again, the little bubbles popping up before- "what r u doing up?"
Your heart rate spiked.
"Can't sleep. You?" A quick, short text back.
"My bro is making me do my home work and I just dont know what im doing he won't help me"
Holy shit, there might actually be a God.
"What subject is it?"
"English"
.......... The texting style make sense now.
"I can help? Wanna call?"
This time, it took him a bit to reply. Did you say something wrong? Was it too forward? After a minute, you were already typing out a too-long apology that came off equally too desperate when he finally replied.
"Whats ur dorm #? My bro is trying to sleep"
Yeah. God exists.
"318"
"K"
His active bubble went yellow. Then white entirely. It wasn't long before there was a soft knock at your door.
Climbing out of bed far too quickly, you adjusted your sleep bottoms before rushing to the door. You pulled it open just enough to peak through the crack.
There he was- tall, dark hair, *thick* wall of muscle. And that damn smile. He waved when he met your gaze through the crack.
"You good?" He whispered, like if he spoke up too loud, he'd wake the entire dormitory.
"Mhm." You hummed, pulling the door open further before clearing your throat. He was barefoot, which made sense. His dorm was a few doors down, but the too-tight shirt and sweats were a tad distracting.
A beat passed were you just looked at each other before you finally remembered he wasn't just standing at your dorm door to be stared at and was there for a reason.
"Right. Right, sorry." You waved Jock 322 in, gently shutting the door behind him. He looked between the beds- "Left. The left side is mine."
"I should've known." He glanced at you briefly before taking in your side of the dorm room and setting the backpack on your bed.
"So... I never got your name?" You sat, moving to sit at your desk. The lamp was dim enough to create the perfect amount of light to really define his strong jaw, and those pretty lips.
"JennnGr-Brad. Brad McQuaid. That's, my, that's me." He held his hand out, which you. probably too eagerly, reached out to shake. His hand was warm, and of course it was calloused. You have him your name with your sweetest, most charming smile. And he repeated it. And your stomach did that flutter thing.
"Nice name."
"Thank you." You were still holding hands. He didn't even seem to release it. "So, what do you need help with?"
Brad seemed to snap out of it. He let go of your hand and quickly grabbed his notebook and took a seat on your bed.
"Ok. I have this whole stupid paper due about- like, drugs. And how the use has gone down apparently but I know they aren't. Because... Of.... Reasons." He glanced at you again before pulling out his notebook- if you could even call the bent pages and ruined metal spiral clump of trash in his hand a notebook.
"Uhhuh." You nodded along. "And you know this how?"
"My- brother is a cop."
"The one you dorm with?"
"Yes-NO. No, a different one. I have two." He cleared his throat, pulling out a chewed up pencil from his backpack.
You reached across your desk, grabbing one of your bulkier mechanic pencils and chucked it onto the bed next to him.
"Dude, you need new stuff." You stood up, not bothering to push your chair in and crawled onto the bed next to him. He went stiff when you got close, but you pretended to ignore it.
"No, no. It's ok." He almost scooted away, and let out an awkward little "um" from deep in his throat when you went straight for his bag, aiming to find the assignments guidelines. His hand suddenly grabbed yours.
But while Brad was speaking and rattling on and making up reasons on why you definitely shouldn't look in his bag, you were busy staring at the hand holding yours. You've never felt sparks shoot under your veins, blessing your racing heart with warmth because of someone's touch.
"Sorry! Sorry." He said, his hand leaving yours alone and cold. "I don't usually do this kind of thing."
When you finally found your voice and swallowed your building spit, you asked, "What? Study?"
Brad nodded, and something in you ached, and it was sympathy because the poor guy looked like a kicked puppy.
"I'm the first one in my family to go to college."
"Oh..."
A weird silence took over the room, but not before he chuckled.
"Yeah, I thought it would be more... Sex and parties, and less boring school shit."
You nodded. And had a really dumb idea. And a stupid thought. And it was low-key perfect but it would be horrible to ask- why where you asking?
"Well, if you need motivation-"
His ears turned red, but a slick smirk crossed his plump lips, revealing a barely chipped tooth on one side.
"You wanna fuck?"
Now all of you turned red.
"Not what I meant! I was just saying we probably need to find something that's more exciting-"
"Like sex."
"Not like sex. Like- like, I don't know-" you stammered, and he has the audacity to chuckle over it. You thought about reaching over him to grab your pillow and beat his ass with it.
"Sex works for me."
"I think I'm figuring that out." You rolled your eyes at his persistence, but he smiling still. "No, I mean, like, doing something you enjoy. Rewards."
Brad hummed now, his green eyes still locked on you. He licked his lips briefly before looking at your roommates empty bed. He leaned back on his hands, pressing them into the bed and creating more dips, almost tilting you closer to him on the small bed.
"Or we could just skip to the kissing." He was bold as he looked back at you, that grin still there.
"We?" You asked, barking out a laugh too loud to be normal.
"Mhm." He hummed, his eyes flicking down to your lips. He was already leaning closer, enough to make your cheeks warm. "Just a little bit. Motivation or whatever you said."
"I said reward." You weren't pulling away, and he noticed. And he noticed when your eyes glanced at his lips.
"It's the same thing." He whispered, one of his hands doing up to gently craddle the back of your neck to guide you closer.
"It's not." You insisted, but it fell on deaf ears as your lips pressed together. Your hands came up to hold his cheeks. And you pulled him closer. And his other hand came to your waist and he dragged you closer. Your hands moved down to his chest before you pulled away. You were only slightly breathless, but all too distracted by how big his pupils became, and how hard his heart was racing under your palm. "Wait, the paper."
"Fuck the paper." Brad grunted as he scooped you up onto his lap, ripping a laugh from you.
