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ficstuff · 1 year ago

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Say My Name

Requested: no

Summary: You find out just how big Bradley is. He really does live up to his call sign.

Word count: 3.4k

Note: banner by @lewmagoo

Warnings: smut, oral sex (f!recieving), fingering, anal fingering, size kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, cum play. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader

The air in the bedroom was filled with tension. You were on your third glass of wine and Bradley had just begun pouring his second. Nerves surged through you. Tonight, you were planning on having your first time with Bradley. While the two of you had been dating for nearly seven months, you had yet to sleep together. The thought had you nervously fiddling with the hem of your short skirt.

Bradley had made the two of you a nice dinner before leading you to his bedroom. Despite how much you wanted this, you couldn’t settle the butterflies in your stomach. Sure, you had slept with others before Bradley. However, given the things that you had heard about him from his fellow pilots, you felt more nervous than usual as you stared at the gold chain he was wearing. You had done some sexual stuff with the pilot before, but you had yet to see what he was packing. Honestly, that was what had you the most nervous.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore the teasing from the rest of his squadron about his size, you simply couldn’t. Not when Jake kept making crude remarks about his callsign having some sort of double meaning and teasing you about what he saw in the locker rooms. You could never get away from it. Now, you couldn’t help but find yourself staring at the bulge straining in his jeans.

His deep chuckle was what broke you out of your trance. “See something you like, Princess?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. You blushed deeply, sipping the last drop of wine from your glass. “C’mere.” He rasped. Instantly, you obeyed, crawling into his lap and straddling his thick thighs. His glass was set on the nightstand before his hands came to sit on the tops of your thighs.

The tickle of his mustache as he peppered kisses across your neck had you squirming in his lap. You clenched around nothing at the guttural groan he let out. From where you were sitting right now, you could tell he was big. Moaning quietly, you nearly melted when Bradley gripped your hips and pulled you down closer to his growing bulge.

“Bradley,” You moaned out with barely concealed need. Another grunt was released into your neck. “Fuck,” Panting with your head tossed back, the feeling of Bradley’s lips travelling down your chest had you shivering. “I need you. Please.” It was the neediest sound you had ever made in your life.

Time seemed to stand still as Bradley lifted you off his lap. You whined at the loss of warmth before laid you down on the bed and crawled on top of you. Cooing quietly at your pitiful whine, the pilot smirked at your frantic state. As Bradley continued to kiss down your neck, your chest was rising and falling quickly. “I’m gonna make you feel real good, baby girl.” His words were a promise; one that you knew he would make good on.

Your blouse was slowly unbuttoned as Bradley peppered kisses across your soft skin. When he finally reached the last button, you were out of breath, panting loudly. Now, you were left in nothing but your lacy bra and short skirt. Unbeknownst to Bradley, you had nothing on under that skirt. Feeling Braldey’s mustache tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach had you wanting to giggle. But the pleasurable warmth in your core had you moaning out instead.

Next, Bradley began massaging your thighs, shimmying further down the bed until he was level with your thighs. You breathed in deeply, nerves rearing their ugly head again. Ever so slowly, Bradley reached under you and pulled the zipper of your short skirt down. It took every fibre of your being to focus your breathing. Bradley had eaten you out before, but knowing what would be coming after had you shaking.

Your legs parted enough so that Bradley could slot in between them, knees bending and feet planted firmly on the cool sheets. Before you even realized what was happening, Bradley had your legs tossed over your shoulder and he was softly nipping the sensitive insides of your thighs. When Bradley lifted his head, he was met with the sight of your bare, puffy cunt. He groaned loudly, his cock managing to harden even more in his tight jeans.

Seconds later you were met with the feeling of Bradley’s tongue running over your slit delicately. Instantly, a sharp cry escaped you. Tangling your fingers in your boyfriend's curly hair, you tugged when his lips sealed around your clit. The feeling had you arching off the bed, your heels digging into the pilot’s back.

For the next few minutes, the only sounds that could be heard in the room were your loud, wanton moans and the lewd sounds coming from between your legs. Bradley’s tongue was now prodding against your entrance, teasing you relentlessly. You found it hard to breathe as cry after cry escaped you. Slowly, your high began building. When two of your boyfriend’s thick fingers pushed meticulously inside your weeping cunt, your back arched so hard off the bed, Bradley had to pause to make sure you were okay.

The grin on his face when he heard your needy whines was nothing short of devious. Without hesitation, he returned to sucking on your clit and working his fingers in and out of your slick entrance quickly. “Oh!” You cried out from the delicious

Bradley was relentless. His thick fingers stretched you open deliciously, making a scissoring motion as he licked around your greedy hole. Your moans slowly grew higher and higher in pitch. Outside of your field of vision, Bradley brought his other hand up and between your legs. The sudden press of his thumb against your tight, puckered hole had you nearly screaming. “Oh, my god.” The words were slurred together. That familiar coil in the pit of your stomach was almost ready to snap.

The tip of his thumb suddenly slipped into your tight hole, creating a delicious pressure. More slick leaked from your slit. As Bradley’s fingers kept up their pace inside of your puffy cunt, the squelching sound got louder the wetter you got. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your mind as Bradley’s thumb pushed further into your ass, his fingers stretched apart even further and his lips sealed around your clit. All at once, he sucked on your clit harshly, pressed his fingers into your sweet spot, and pressed his thumb in as far as possible.

You were so close. In a few seconds, you would be gushing around his fingers. “Bradley,” You panted, fingers gripping his brown locks like a lifeline. “Stop.” He froze instantly, eyes snapping up to meet yours. His fingers slowed until they stopped and his thumb moved to draw back. But when you whined at the sensation in your puckered hole, he stopped his movements altogether.

“Honey?” He started, rubbing your thigh softly and smearing your slick on your smooth skin in the process. “What’s wrong.?” It was whispered into the soft skin of your stomach The tickle of his mustache against your stomach had you giggling. Even though your core was clenching around nothing and you could still feel his finger moving slowly inside your ass. Regardless of the worry bubbling in his chest, Bradley smiled at the sound of your laughter.

You offered him a blissed-out smile, moaning softly at the movements of his thumb. “Nothin’,” At those words, Bradley slipped his fingers back inside of your dripping cunt. You were so wet that there was zero friction as he pushed them in until the second knuckle. You were instantly whiny again. “Wait,” You tried again. This time, Bradley only slowed his ministrations. “I wanna come on your cock.” The widest grin you had ever seen broke out on your boyfriend's face.

Teasingly, he leaned down and allowed his tongue to flick over your clit. A chuckle escaped him. You had no idea what you were in for. “Honey,” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. “You’re gonna need at least two before I even think about letting you cum on my cock.” His words caused you to let out a shuddering breath. Sure, you knew that he was big. After all, you couldn’t go anywhere without someone reminding you of that fact. But his words caused you to wonder just how big he was.

Before you could snark back, his thumb pushed in as far as it could and his lips sealed around your clit. Crying out again, your heels dug further into Bradley’s back and you pulled so hard on his curly locks you thought that some of the hair would come out. Instead, he groaned and began slurping harder. Within seconds, you were gushing around his fingers, cuming so hard you could have sworn you saw stars.

As you were coming down, Bradley drew his thumb from your ass and pulled his sticky fingers from your core. Your cum slowly dripped down your opening. Once you were coherent again, your eyes slowly looked down at Bradley. He was transfixed on the sight between your thighs. The tip of his index finger slowly began to swirl through the creamy mess between your thighs. It dipped shallowly into your opening and scooped out some more of your cum.

The overstimulation was almost becoming too much for you. Now, Bradley’s finger was swirling your cum around your sensitive clit. Your whines were breathly, so much so that Bradley could hardly hear them. Nevertheless, he continued, drawing moan after moan from your parted and chapped lips.

Within minutes, you were right on the brink again. Feeling that delicious pressure building faster than ever, you shifted your hips until Bradley’s face was, quite literally, buried in your slick cunt. As you tipped over the edge for the second time in a matter of minutes, Bradley stared at your expression in awe.

Your legs were shaking. So much so that Bradley was almost convinced he went too far. But when your eyes fluttered open, Bradley could see the pure pleasure swimming in your eyes. “How was that, Honey?” There was a low timbre to his voice as the coarse hairs of his mustache rubbed against your smooth thighs. Your breathing was heavy and your fingers couldn’t stop twitching, but you had never felt better. So that was exactly what you told him.

“That was amazing,” You sat up, half expecting Bradley to push you back down and pull another orgasm from you. Crawling up your body, one of your boyfriend’s large hands rubbed at your side before grabbing your tit. A soft moan escaped you before you grinned up at the pilot. “But, I think you know that I want something else.” Your words were punctuated with a soft squeeze of his rock-hard cock.

The groan that he released was nearly primal. With one last passionate kiss pressed to your lips, he slowly, almost teasingly, unbuttoned his jeans. Then, he peeled his black boxers off his toned and muscular thighs. Your eyes were fixed between his legs, not blinking as you came face to face with his sheer size. “B-Bradley,” You stuttered, beginning to shake slightly. Snapping your eyes up to meet his, your boyfriend had a smug grin on his face. “There’s no way that that’s going to fit.”

The chuckle that escaped him was nearly mocking. “Yes, it will.” Those were the last words he spoke before he was leaning over you again. His hard cock rubbed into your thigh while he was sucking dark marks that contrasted against your unblemished skin into the side of your neck.

After a few minutes of nothing more than kissing softly, Bradley finally pulled back. His hands were warm as they rubbed softly over your sides, an attempt to soothe you that didn't go unnoticed. “Are you ready, baby?” Regardless of the fact that you couldn’t tame the nerves fluttering in your stomach, you nodded. With a smile, he kissed your forehead. Against your skin, he whispered that he was going to get a condom and the lube.

You stopped him. For the first time tonight, you felt one hundred percent prepared for what was about to happen. “No,” Bradley looked at you confused, wondering why you had changed your mind. Kneeling next to him, you placed one hand on his bare chest, stroking the tanned skin softly. Seductively, you whispered in his ear. “No condom. I wanna feel you.” You were on the pill, and you knew that both Bradley and yourself were clean.

His breathing seemed to stop and then there was a wide smile on his face. You squealed when he kissed you passionately, laying you down on the bed and leaving you breathless as he disappeared in search of lube. The sight of his bare backside walking away had you giggling dreamily. When he returned from the bathroom, you were met with the sight of his shockingly large cock between his legs. At that sight, you didn’t laugh as much.

For the next few seconds, you and Bradley were quiet. Soft touches were shared between the two of you before your boyfriend pulled back once more. His fingers dipped between your legs, checking to see just how wet you were. A soft moan escaped you as he swirled your slick around your clit. The next thing you knew, you could hear the cap of the lube snapping open. Suddenly, you felt the cold drop running down your slit. A hiss escaped you before Bradley slipped his fingers into you once more.

The next few minutes were spent with Bradley opening you up even further than you already were. You could feel that familiar pressure building once more. But, instead of Bradley leading you over that delicious edge, he stopped right as you were about to tip over. You groaned.

With a chuckle, Bradley slowly crawled up your body. “You ready, baby?” You could only nod, wanting nothing more than for Bradley to be seated inside of you. As he poured some more lube onto his hand, you got a sinister idea. The thought had you smirking. However, you were stopped in your tracks as you watched Bradley wrap his hand around his thick cock. His fingers couldn’t even touch.

For the first time tonight, you found yourself focusing on his cock. It was long, longer than you had seen before and curved toward the end. His tip was an angry red colour and as he stroked himself, you could see the pre-cum leaking down his shaft. Your eyes traced the vein that ran up the bottom before your eyes snapped up to your boyfriend’s. He had caught you red-handed.

Now, you decided to act on your plan. Before Bradley could realize what was happening, you had flipped him over and were straddling his thick thighs. He looked up at you in shock. With one hand, you gripped his cock and with the other you stabilized yourself against his chest. Biting your lip, your eyes locked with his as you began to stroke him. After a few seconds of building up your courage, you slowly sank down on him. Your warm and slick cunt sunk down onto his fat, mushroom tip with hardly any resistance.

Within the first few seconds, you were a moaning mess. There was less than two inches inside of you and you were already losing your mind. You couldn’t even begin to fathom taking the rest of him. Bradley could sense that you were struggling, so, your boyfriend’s hands gripped your hips. Slowly, he helped you sink down onto him. The breath rushed from your lungs in a matter of seconds. Now, you were just over halfway down Bradley’s cock and you felt like you were being split in half.

“That’s it, Princess,” He encouraged you as your greedy cunt swallowed another inch of him. “Doing so good.” With careful movements, he pulled you down until your head was resting on his chest, the steady sound of his heartbeat under your ear. Ever so slowly, Bradley pulled down your hips until they were flush with his. The second he was fully seated inside of you, you let out the most pornographic moan Bradley had ever heard.

One of his hands grabbed your ass and the other cradled the back of your head. The next few minutes were spent with Bradley simply letting you adjust to his size. His sheer girth had you whining quietly against his skin, sticky with sweat. After about four minutes, Bradley planted his feet and shifted slightly. That caused the tip of his cock to press right against your sweet spot. Once again, you couldn’t help but moan loudly.

Ever so slowly, your boyfriend began rocking into you. With each thrust, Bradley would only pull himself out a little bit, leaving the rest of his pulsing cock stuffed inside of you. Then he would push back in, filling you to the brim once more. The feeling of his mushroom tip hitting your spot over and over again had you seeing stars. “Say my name.” It was more of a command than a request.

“Fuck, Bradley!” You cried out, hips beginning to raise and fall of their own accord. He grunted hips smacking into yours as he fucked you.

You grunted, feet planted firmly against the bed as he pistoned his weeping cock into you. “No,” He taunted, slowing his thrusts until he was hardly moving. “Not that one.” The realization of what he wanted you to do was almost enough to make you cum.

“Oh my god,” You rushed out, fist forming as you curled into his chest further. “Rooster!” It was almost a scream. The way the words rushed out of you so fast, Bradley was almost concerned. Almost. “Rooster, please. Please fuck me.” At that, Bradley moaned. He had never heard such a sweet sound as you begging for him to fuck you. It was music to his ears.

Loud moans and grunts filled the room as Bradley began to thrust harder and deeper. Now you were clinging to him, puffy cunt stretched out more than you ever would have thought possible. Your boyfriend gripped your hips harshly, raising you up on his thick cock before slamming you down onto him. That sent a sharp cry out of you, your face turning until it was buried against his chest.

Suddenly, your whole body tensed. Bradley, once again, had slipped his thumb into your tight ring of muscle. The moan that you let out was nearly a scream. Feeling his thick cock in your dripping core and his thumb pushing into your ass sent you reeling. “Imagine what my cock would feel like in this tight, little ass of yours.” He punctuated his words with a hard thrust. His thumb slipped out of your ass seconds later. The fucked-out look on your face wasn’t going away anytime soon.

This pattern continued for the next few minutes until Bradley's thrusts began growing erratic. You were so, so close. All you needed was a little bit more and you would be falling into blissful pleasure. Bradley gave you that little bit more in mere seconds.

His thumb pressed hard against your clit, rubbing the small pearl in circular motions. You found yourself clenching around him with your eyes rolling back. There was an obscene amount of your sweet release leaking out around your boyfriend’s thick cock. He held you carefully as you slowly came down from your high.

Before you had time to recover, however, your boyfriend was pumping his cum into you, thick, white ropes painting your walls. You shuddered at the foreign feeling. Regardless of the other guys you had been with before, you had never let any of them do what you and Bradley just did. His cock was still throbbing inside you. The feeling almost had you cumming again.

Ever so slowly, Bradley lifted you off his softening cock. It had you whining and whimpering. You clenched around nothing, his cum starting to leak out of you. It dripped onto his lap as he pulled your hips up. You were breathless as he set your hips down on his thigh, your cunt clenching desperately at the pressure suddenly placed on your clit. His arms wound around your stomach, holding you tightly against his sweaty chest.

In less than five minutes, you were drifting off against his chest, feeling his warm cum still dripping out of your puffy and abused cunt. Needless to say, the next day, you were walking with a limp.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open :)

Tagging: @topguncultleader @soulmates8 @t0kyoreveng3rs @there-goes-thefighter @blueoorchid @atarmychick007 @alexxavicry @bradleybeachbabe @chaoticassidy @nyx2021 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @aviatorobsessed @angelbabyange @oliviah-25 @cassiemitchell @classyunknownlover @shelbycillian @khaylin27 @bruher @sunsetsimpsblog @lovelywiseprincess @fandom-life-12 @emmza63 @cornishkat @iceman-kazansky @himbos-on-ice @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @wkndwlff @entertainmentgal8 @dakotakazansky @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @memoriesat30 @sarahjoestewy-blog @ducks118 @marvelouslyme96 @linkpk88 @xoxabs88xox @abbymwall @eternallyvenus @rey26 @lt-spork @callsign-ember @tim-thefrog @zombi3wh0r3 @cheyrenee @nyctophilic0vitnir @labellapeaky @skylineskyler

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ficstuff · 2 years ago

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Hey, Sailor

Summary: It’s Fleet Week and Rooster would rather be anywhere else than on the flight deck of the USS Portland. That is, until a pretty thing in a sundress catches his eye and then suddenly his day is looking up.

Pairing: Bradley”Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5.8K

Warnings: Flirty Banter, Smut, and Bradley Bradshaw in Summer Whites (Minors DNI)

Note: When @roosterforme asks you to write her a Fleet Week fic, you write the Fleet Week fic! Here you go, Em! 💛

Normally, Rooster loved Fleet Week.

He loved the lively atmosphere and the parades. He loved the free drinks that were handed to him as soon as he entered a bar. And he especially loved all the attention he got from women when he wore his Summer Whites.

He usually came back to the ship looking less than pristine with lipstick on the collar of his uniform and hidden on other places on his body.

The USS Portland was teaming with excited families and camera-happy civilians taking in the sights from deck of the transport ship as they settled in for the five-hour journey to the San Diego. It was a Fleet Week tradition to welcome people aboard for an immersive experience, picking them up from a port further up North and then cruising along the coast before making their final docking for the week.

There were grills set up on the deck and the smell of flame kissed hamburgers and hotdogs mixed with the sea salt air. The sun was shining and the mood was light.

But this year, Rooster simply could not be bothered to give a fuck.

Keep reading

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ficstuff · 2 years ago

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it's classified | b.r.b. (1/2)

pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x actress!reader

summary: what was supposed to be a simple one-night stand during the training for your upcoming movie turns into an epic strangers-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends-lovers adventure... 10,000 feet in the air.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: language, drinking, behind-the-scenes nerdiness, fluff, smut [dirty talk, fingering, overstimulation, praise, protected sex], rooster is secretly a softboi, pining idiots

notes: im falling for rooster and im falling fast and hard y'all, and the the way this movie was made is making my nerdy ass giddy skdjfhskdjhf please join me in this dumpster fire. reblog, send me asks, talk to me bc a bitch is horny, okay???? happy reading!

✨ follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass to get notified for my latest words <3 happy reading and please reblog if you liked it! ✨

***

i. Bruce Springsteen — Born To Run

You wanted to sleep in.

You were planning to sleep in. That’s the sole reason you arrived in this new town a day earlier than the rest of the cast before the rigorous final phase of flight training for your upcoming movie. But as the old saying goes, you make plans and Siri laughs and fucks up your alarm.

And the more you try to go back to sleep, the more anxious you get about the big day. It’s like a schoolkid before a field trip —if only said field trip was where you’d get your ass kicked black and blue. You’re not ready, you knew that. But you had to be. As the new kid on Top Gun, arguably the biggest action film this decade, there’s too much catching up to do. Every minute you’re not spending in training should be a minute spent preparing for it.

That’s why you're giving yourself a head start; sleepwear shucked off, sports bra on, workout playlist thumping from your AirPods. And with a short pep down the steps, your stride hits the sand.

It’s sweaty, hot, heavy as the ground underneath you crumbles a little with every step in your run. It takes you everything to maintain your pace so you don’t sink into the sand and make it even harder for yourself —even if you pay for it in burning heels and lungs and limbs and muscles.

But the view is nice. Lines of blue, yellow, orange, and white fading into each other on the horizon. Seafoam washed up on the shore, clearing your shoe prints like you’re starting over with every lap, every set of lunges and crunches and what-have-you. And through it all, not a single soul in sight.

Well. Except for one man.

Jogging in your opposite direction about 20 minutes into your workout. He runs laps on the mile-long strip of empty beach, bare torso gleaming in the sun and sweat, aviator glasses perched atop the bridge of his nose. You’re not usually into pornstaches, but it suits him. You’d take a longer, better look, but he catches you staring and nods at you briefly with a coy smile as he runs past you.

Fuck.

You push through until you hit the quiet, closed beachside bar called The Hard Deck, and jogs up to the sidewalk, sighing in relief upon finding an even surface —and enough distance to hide your embarrassment from the sexy, sweaty stranger, as you jog back to your apartment.

Out of sight, out of mind.

***

ii. Cage The Elephant — Cigarette Daydreams

But later that evening, sun barely setting outside the window, when The Hard Deck’s come alive with patrons drinking and conversing and playing pool, jukebox music playing in the background, an all-too-familiar figure strides into the room. His six-pack abs are clad in a white tank this time, a flowy Hawaiian shirt thrown over his broad shoulders. The sunglasses, however, seem to be a mainstay, and you force yourself to look away before you embarrass yourself. Again.

He walks over to the empty spot next to you, fingers drumming against the wooden counter.

“Hey, Pen, can I have my usual, please? Thanks.” He tears off his aviators, stealing glances your way not so inconspicuously, as you try to keep your gaze ahead. Don’t get reeled in by the smell of sunscreen and saltwater on him… “Fancy seeing you here.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you try your damnedest to stay cool as you turn towards him. You don’t know what to expect, but you surely don’t expect the warmest, coziest brown eyes looking right at you with a little smile. “I could say the same about you.”

“Nah, I think you just happen to be in my general territory.” He smiles in teasing, murmuring a thanks as he receives his beer. “So what brings you to Fightertown?”

You pause for a second, studying the way he earnestly waits for your answer. He doesn’t know who you are —and you like that. The moment ‘actor’ gets thrown into the conversation, the moment it clicks that they’ve seen you in movies or Netflix, some people can’t get past it. And right now, this stranger is seeing you not for what you do, but who you are —and you want to keep that just a little longer. So you decide to go with the vague answer,

“Work.”

“Oh, yeah? What kind?”

“It’s… classified.” You smirk over your non-answer.

His grin widens as he shakes his head —he knows what you're doing, but he’s not pushing any further. Instead, he cheekily remarks, “You know, with the reps you’re putting out there this morning, I would’ve thought you were gearing up for a mission.”

Well, he’s not wrong. But he can’t know that, so you settle on the next best thing. “I don’t think I’m cut out for the Navy,” which is not a lie —just because you’re playing one, doesn’t mean you’re really one. “You?”

He leans in just a tad closer, and oh God, you can smell his aftershave. “Between you and me, I ask myself that every day for the last 15 years.” And just as quickly as he closes the distance, he straightens up again on his seat. “But yeah. I’m a combat pilot.”

“Wow!” your eyes light up; partly because this is great extra research materials —great coincidence, too, as you’re flying fighter jets in the movie—, and partly because his face lights up, too. “What’s that like?”

“Do you like flying?” he props his knuckles underneath his chin, looking at you thoughtfully. It’s a little unnerving, but you don’t hate the butterflies in your belly.

“Um, it’s… okay?” You chuckle somewhat bashfully. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it more than just… getting from one place to another. Looking at clouds and oceans from a tiny window.”

“Oh, there’s so much more than clouds and oceans with this one. It’s the best fucking thing ever.” He gushes. And pauses. And pipes up, “I can show you better than I can tell you.”

“Really?” You lean against the counter, casually moving closer to him. “Wouldn’t you get into trouble for that?”

“Might just be worth it,” he shrugs, “for both of us.”

His honesty is refreshing. He treads the fine line between cutting to the chase and respecting your space, and you really, really like that about him. “Why don’t you buy me a drink first and we’ll go from there, Mister…?”

“Bradley Bradshaw. At your service, ma’am.”

***

ii. Ryan Adams — Wildest Dreams

Bradley Bradshaw, as it turns out, is at your service. Taking you to his bed, gently resting you on the edge of the mattress as he ravenously devours you in hot, wet kisses —from your lips to your neck. Undoing your buttons one by one, his mouth doesn’t seem able to leave you alone as it follows his fingers down your chest.

“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes out.

He nips at the soft swell of your breast, impatient as he tugs the cup down your chest. Toying at one hardened nipple with his tongue while he teasingly thumbs the other, making you arch your back. And with that, he unclasps your bra with just one hand —one swift movement. Equally as frenzied, you push his open shirt off of his shoulder, his arms more tanned and golden than God.

You chuckle. “I could say the same about you.”

You would think you’d get used to his curious, thoughtful, lewd gaze after a whole night of flirting, but the heat creeps up on your cheeks anyway. “You’re a sweet talker, you know that, baby?”

Bradley pulls away as he shucks off his remaining clothes, white tank tossed aside and faded blue jeans left on the floor. His gray boxers are tight on the front, his hard-on straining from the inside. His sun-bleached hair ruffled by your doing, a soft smile ghosting on his mouth, and you have to admit… you meant every word of it.

Gorgeous.

A little chuckle escapes you as he pulls you back towards his lips. The mustache tickles your skin, unusual but not unwelcome, but you’re far more giddy with the prospect of feeling it everywhere. And the hand…

Venturing down.

Lower.

Gently caressing your soft cleft through your panties.

“Jesus Christ, you’re soaked…” he groans, slipping his hand underneath the fabric.

On any other night, you would’ve been embarrassed by how wet you are, and how blatantly he pointed it out —and truth be told, you’ve been wet since he put his hand on your thigh the whole car ride. Not quite dirty —he didn’t do anything in that manner; but not quite innocent either, knowing what happens next.

But his bold hand indulges like the rest of him. His middle finger slides right along your slit, finding your swelling bud, and he moans like it makes him feel good.

If the little figure-eights weren’t enough to send waves of pleasure all over your body, the stretch of his middle and ring finger entering you at once sure is. You pull him closer, so that his body rests on top of you, worried that you might float in mid-air if he’s not there.

He is, very much, there. Pumping his digits in and out of you, capturing your lips, your tits, every inch of your skin with his mouth. Nuzzling the side of your face like he’s listening to every hitch of breath. Figuring out how to make you sing, how to make your body twist deliciously. You’re so close, so fucking close already, God, and when he curls his fingers inside you just right…

It’s too fast. Too easy. But you’re way too blissed out to think much of it. You can barely think of a response when he doesn’t slow down after her first orgasm, not even a little bit. Whether you like the drawn-out high.

(You do. You really do.)

And you have a feeling he knows that. If the hard cock grinding against your thigh was any indication, you would think he’s into it, too.

“Yes, baby, that’s it. Give me one more —one more before I fuck you…” he murmurs against your jaw, his soft voice reverberating on your skin. “Can you do that for me?”

You don’t always do strangers a favor, but when said stranger is handsome and funny and two fingers deep inside you, an exception can be made.

Might just be worth it. For both of us.

You don’t know when your first orgasm ends and your second begins. Blood and thrill and pleasure just course through your entire body from tip to toe, and it takes you a few moments to realize your moans and whimpers filling the air. He swallows your sweet noises into his kiss, and takes what he can get until you falter from his lips.

He smooths your hair away from your forehead tenderly, watching you regain some semblance of composure through heavy lids and thick lashes. Your finger brushes against the scars on his face. Two lines running down one side of his cheek, smaller ones on his chin. You don’t ask, but maybe the featherlight caresses over the lines is enough of a question.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he rasps, “You still wanna do this?”

“You still need to ask?”

A smile breaks out on the corner of his lips as he bites the inside of his cheek. You push him off with a single finger to his chest, sending him to fetch a condom. This is not the time for stories or sentiments. You’re just two strangers tumbling into bed, looking to scratch an itch.

You flip onto your stomach, listening into the crinkle of the foil, fighting the temptation to sneak a peek at his… asset. But no. Let his length, his girth, his sheer size surprise you. You bury your face in his white sheets, soft and fresh and now wrinkled and bunched.

His large hands stroke your hips, soft on his calloused palms. Pulling you in with a trail of kisses up your spine. Nudging your opening with the tip of his cock.

“Fuck, you’re killing me, sweetheart…” Bradley grunts through gritted teeth.

“What?” you grin, grinding against his hard length. “I’m not doing anything.”

Smack! His hand lands sharply on your ass cheek. Not enough to actually hurt, but definitely enough to make your skin tingle. Enough to make you turn to face him, throwing you a dirty look. “Like hell you’re not.”

“Are you gonna do something about it?”

And then he does.

The smartass remark dies in your mouth, and a low groan comes to life in his, as he stretches you open. Deliciously painful and painfully delicious in the best way —the kind that makes your mind go blank for a moment.

“Fuck, I…” Bradley stills, fully sheathed inside you. “Can I —can I move?”

He sounds so earnest like this. So vulnerable. Boyish, almost. You’re almost tempted to kiss his stupid face senseless, if only moving your hips weren’t a much better way to satiate your desire. Drawing yourself nearly all the way off of him, and hitting your ass back. The sound of skin slapping against each other is filthy, but it still doesn’t beat the groans rumbling out of his chest and the breathy moans you bury in the bedsheets.

The California air is warm that night, but you want it to set you on fire. As he finds his pace, pounding in and out of you with more grit, you reach back for his waist, his hip, his anything, just to say,

“Harder.”

He slows down, the intrigue audible in his voice. “What’s that?”

“I said…” you take a deep breath, setting your jaw as you clench around him, “Harder.”

He curses under his breath and slams you back into his hips. Slower. Deeper.

Definitely harder.

“That hard enough for you, sweetheart?” The spank he gives your ass right after is a sweet consolation prize. He grabs your hair, buries his hand in the roots, and pulls you up so that your back’s flush against his bare chest and good God, you feel like you’re winning.

His hands are everywhere —on your tits, around your waist, between your legs— and he laves wet, desperate kisses on your shoulder, panting in your ear, thrusting up into you mercilessly. And as you inch closer to another orgasm, he holds you closer, cages you in his strong arms.

“Shit… good girl. Come for me…”

It’s too intense. Too intimate. You shouldn’t be able to zone in on his heartbeats matching yours. Or the little kisses pressing on your cheek. But your resolve is slipping, and you fall apart in his arms as he holds you in place —and as he comes inside you, you wonder if you’re in the right place, after all.

He pulls out, and you let out a little whimper, hand digging into his wrist at the loss. But he soothes his hand up and down your thigh in reassurance, and with a final kiss to your jaw, gets up to discard the condom while you catch your breath.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” you remark, propping yourself back on your arms. “I thought you were an… all-round vanilla kind of guy.”

“Well, you know what they say. Always assume vanilla until proven otherwise.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, interest piqued. “Huh. Does that mean you’re… not that vanilla?”

“Maybe,” he drawls mischievously, though you don’t miss the glance he stole at your bare chest.

“Care to share with the class?”

“I think I can show you better than I can tell you.” He sits on the edge of the bed in front of you, closing the distance to your lips dramatically.

You fall back into his bed, laughing into his kiss, noting his penchant for corny one-liners —of which he’s openly proud of. And amidst all the jokes and the talks of less-than-vanilla sex, the two of you seem to forget about the very action of sex itself. Even in the nude and the sweat of the heat, the two of you are perfectly content lying around in lazy kisses and soft touches. Along his arm. Down his chest.

His face.

“Car accident,” he says out of the blue.

“What?” It takes you a moment to realize you’ve been tracing the scars on his cheek—again. Featherlight against the harsh lines. You retract your hand ever so slightly —you really didn’t mean to pry, but he really doesn’t seem to mind.

“Junior year of high school.” He nods matter-of-factly. “The car flipped eight times, I was thrown out the window, landed like 50 feet away… I even still got gravel in my face.”

He juts out his chin, and you tentatively reach out. The bumps were minute, but they’re there.

“Shit. That’s awful,” you mutter. “Bet the ladies think it’s badass, though.”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” His eyes flutter heavily with each blink.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you take a good look at him. So… soft in his broad and gruff and masculine glory. And then ultimately you decide, “It’s cute.”

“Cute?” He opens one eye, looking at you curiously for a moment—proving your point even further—before relaxing back into his pillow. “That’s not too shabby, ain’t it?”

And as he lazily strokes your hair, you can’t help but agree.

Not too shabby at all.

***

iii. Lizzy McAlpine — an ego thing

The next morning, 0800 sharp, the principal cast is gathered in a hangar of the Naval Air Station, making small talk with each other on the weather and the flight in and the training that lies ahead. Your co-star Pedro makes a joke about a dramatic entrance his character makes in the beginning of the story, and you simply laugh it off.

But then you hear footsteps. The heavy combat boots against the concrete, and you turn around. And it’s really, really funny how life imitates art.

Your stomach shouldn’t have dropped so quickly —the sun hits him from the back, and you can only see his silhouette for a moment— but it did. The outfit may be different —gone is the flowy yellow Hawaiian shirt as the muted forest green flight suit takes its place—, but it’s still the same swaggered gait. The same pair of Ray Bans. The same 80’s mustache.

The same fucking guy you slept with last night.

“Everyone, this is Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, callsign Rooster,” Kevin, the stunt coordinator, addresses the whole team, “He’ll be replacing Lieutenant Natasha Trace as our resident naval pilot for this project.”

Shit.

“Morning, everyone.”

You hear an unruly choir of replies around you, but you can barely force out a response.

“Did you guys get a good night’s rest last night?” His eyes flicker your way for a second, and it feels like a cold stab to the heart. More replies from your crowd —seems like nobody caught wind of it, thank God. “Great. ‘Cause we got a long day ahead of us, folks.”

He moves on to the briefing, and you’re trying your damnedest to pay attention —this information is life-and-death, after all— but your head is still reeling. How fucking stupid were you for thinking life would let you off easy.

As if all this pilot training was a cakewalk.

“Who wants to go first?” The aviator snaps you out of your reverie, looking out at the whole group with a simple smile.

The boys exchange looks and kind of murmur ‘ladies first’ out of nerves and hesitation, and you’re a second too late in making any kind of response. This is your worst nightmare.

Kevin looks at you expectantly. “What do you say?”

You shoot your friends a dirty look, as you find yourself caught between a rock and a hard place. The last thing you want to do is to be stuck in a cramped cabin thousands of feet in the air with the man you ghosted after hooking up last night. But at the same time, you don’t want to be a diva. You made a promise to yourself that you were gonna take on whatever challenge they throw at you head-on. And you’ve been making good on the promise so far.

You’re not gonna let some man ruin your streak.

“Lt. Bradshaw, this is Y/N,” Kevin introduces the two of you as you step up to formally introduce yourself.

You offer him a handshake. “It’s nice to meet you… sir.”

He doesn’t flinch at the honorific, but he does pause, as if processing how it rolls off your tongue. How strange it is to shake your hand after touching you everywhere else. “Just Rooster is fine. There’s no ranks in the cockpit. Got a callsign yet?”

“Houdini.” you nod briefly.

He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, curious.

“Passed the Dunker test in record time,” Kevin proudly notes. “She’s a tough one.”

“Let’s not jinx it, Kev.” You pat your friend in the arm with a tight smile.

Bradley —Rooster— isn’t unfriendly, by any means. He makes small talk about how the aircraft works and the training that’ll come in handy as the two of you suit up and get ready to fly. But as soon as the canopy closes, and it’s just you and him inside the jet, not a word is spoken between you. With the engine roaring underneath you, it’s still the most deafening 20-minute silence of your life.

“Houdini, huh?” Rooster flatly pipes up through the comm. “That’s fitting…”

He’s not gonna make this easy on you, but you try anyway. “Look, I—”

“Tower, this is Rooster on Joyride One. Are we clear for taxi?”

“Joyride One, you are clear for taxi,” an operator responds in your headphones.

The plane starts moving, but the only reason you’re taking a deep breath is the front-seater before you. “Rooster,” you call him again.

“I read you loud and clear, Houdini. Do you read me?” He sounds oddly calm. Even. Like there’s no subtext underneath his words.

But no subtext is enough subtext, and you know how to pick your battles —this isn’t one you’re gonna win. “Loud and clear,” you huff in relent. “What happened to Phoenix?”

“Duty calls.”

“That’s a shame. We were supposed to fly together.” You’ve met and talked to her a few times, and you really liked her. You were genuinely bummed that you no longer get to work with Rooster. It has nothing to do with avoiding Rooster.

Well. Maybe a little bit.

And with that, his facade finally cracks, and you can distinctly hear the coldness in his tone. “Guess you’re stuck with me now. Unless you wanna Houdini your way out of that, too.”

Motherfucker. You straighten up, bracing yourself as the aircraft starts gaining speed on the taxiway. “Nope, I’m good. Whaddya got for me?”

“We’re gonna start easy, get you accustomed to the height and the G-Force, and we’ll talk about the basic turns and spins when we’re in the air. Think you can handle that?”

“Oh, yeah. Bring it on.”

And you mean it. You’re taking every bit of willpower in your gut to use everything you’ve ever learned in the training. Every turn, every inversion, every multiplication of the gravity pull. Every thousand feet higher in the air.

You nearly throw up several times, but you’re much too spiteful to admit defeat. Not today.

Not ever.

And even if you get off the plane feeling like you’re about to die, you don’t show it. As soon as your feet touch down on the tarmac again, you simply take off your helmet and take a deep breath. In, out. Take in the smell of fuel and afterburner, which still beats the suffocating air of being stuck with Rooster.

“Kevin’s right.” he admits, fluffing out his matted hair once the helmet’s off. “You are a tough one.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, tight-lipped. “Hey, about last night—”

“I told you, I hear you loud and clear, Houdini.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, stopping in front of you.

“You left in the middle of the night—no number, no goodbye, nothing. Message received, okay? There’s no need to bring it up again, especially not when the comm lines are open.”

Oh.

He steps forward, lowering his voice yet somehow it feels even more intense. “In fact, let’s not bring it up again —ever. Just… forget it ever happened.” He turns on his heels and walks away, towards the hangar where everyone else is waiting.

It pisses you off beyond belief, that he scolded you like you were a child, and then he stormed off like one, and didn’t even let you get a word in. And it pisses you off even more, knowing that he’s right. You were wrong for leaving without a word. Wrong for leading him on, when you know there’s absolutely no chance for you. Wrong for indulging in his company anyway, knowing what you know.

You shat the bed, and now you’re gonna have to lie in it for a whole year.

<<<read part 2 here>>>

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ficstuff · 2 years ago

Note

older bf bradley EXCEPT your a bartender at the hard deck and no-one knows that you guys have a thing going on and then bradley sees jake flirting with you and gets SUPERR jealous and then u have jealous angsty sex🤭🤭🤭

Right?? Because Jake’s a super flirty guy, and you like to match that energy sometimes — especially when Bradley has been busy with his friends all night and hasn’t said too much to you.

Bradley checks over there periodically, and he doesn’t like what he’s seeing in front of him. You smiling across at Jake, biting back at his witty one-liners with equal mischief in your tone. Like you’re not curling up in Bradley’s bed three nights out of the week, wandering around his place in nothing but your underwear, cumming on his fingers every time he sees you.

And then, over Jake’s shoulder, you meet Bradley’s gaze and your smile grows. He realises that this is all on purpose.

So, Bradley’s the last one there waiting for you when you finish your shift. He wordlessly opens the door to his truck and drives you back to his place, pretending like he doesn’t notice the amusement that’s all over your face about his reaction.

That cocky little smirk is wiped clean off your face when you’re pressed face down into Bradley’s mattress and he’s asking you if you want him to call Jake and see if Jake could make you feel like this.

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Bradley.” You tease him, breathless as you push back and give your hips a little wriggle. That’s such a lie. He’s flushed, sweat dampening his forehead, muscles flexing — it’s a damn good look on him.

“Next time you see Jake,” Bradley breathes out, tucking an arm under your hips and pulling you back flush against him. He grunts softly as your walls squeeze around him. “You’re gonna fucking tell him that you’re mine. Alright?”

“Am I?” You taunt, fingers curling tighter into his sheets.

“Yeah, baby,” Bradley hums, kissing your shoulder as he rolls his hips and makes you moan. “You’re all mine.”

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ficstuff · 2 years ago

Note

hi, my sunshine person

I am coming into your inbox to ask you for your absolute most depraved thoughts about a Bradshaw. either of them will do. just one of them.

fair is fair.

you always know exactly how to make my brain short circuit 🧡

so here's the thing. when it comes to my beloved, goofy daddy Nick Bradshaw, it's all soft, tender, silly thoughts. but Rooster?

-> 18+

Content: NSFW, smut, unprotected p in v, switch!Bradley, creampies, oral sex, spit kink

Bradley loves to see you splayed out beneath him, mouth hanging open, back arching upwards, and fingers digging into the mattress as he fucks you until you can’t think straight. He loves when you gasp for him to fill you up, when you’re so goddamn needy for it, you’re crawling back into his lap and stroking his softening cock for more while his cum is still dripping out of your cunt. He knows he could fuck you past the brink of overstimulation, and you’d still be begging for it.

But some nights, he wants something else.

Those nights find him at your mercy, his hard shaft straining against the thin fabric of his boxers as you ride his face. He can’t even be bothered to dig the heel of his palm into his throbbing, leaking cock, because he’s too pussy drunk on your breathy, unabashed moans each time he laps another firm, broad stroke through your soaked folds.

When you eventually settle down into his lap, engulfing his length in the wet, sticky warmth of your cunt, Bradley could easily grasp your hips, fucking up into you until you’re writhing in his arms, coming for him once more. But instead, he’ll gaze up at you patiently as you use him as you please, easing up and down on his shaft, relishing each push and drag that stretches open your tight, soaked channel until you reach your climax.

And it’s then, when his thigh muscles have begun to burn from restraint, when his cock is fucking aching with the pressure of his impending release, that he lets his head fall back against the wall—only for you to firmly pull on his his hair, his pupils blown wide with lust as his lips fall open of their own accord. Because when you lean down and spit in his mouth, that’s what finally sends him hurtling over the edge, fingers roughly digging into your sides as he chokes out a moan and comes so hard the edges of his vision go white.

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ficstuff · 2 years ago

Text

Rope Puppy

pairing: bradley “rooster” bradshaw x afab!reader

summary: Bradley was a little shocked when you brought up shibari and rope play. Even more surprised when he was the one being tied up.

wc: 2.5k

warning: 18+, mdni, smut, shibari, rope play, sub/dom, male sub, fem dom, sub names (puppy + dog), dom name (master), oral sex (m to f), hand-job

a/n: yo, i wrote this in a day and it isn't beta'd so don't kill me (: also, the pic of the femme in the corset is the exact corset I pictured the reader wearing, let's thank savage x fenty for that

Sweat was already gathering on Bradley’s forehead. He had a rough idea of what he was getting into, but he didn’t expect you to get so into it. When you brought the idea up he was a little hesitant. After doing research though, he felt a little better about it. He had assumed that you would be the one being tied up though, not him.

“Assuming does what, B?”

“Makes an ass out of you and me.”

The hemp ropes were tied perfectly around his wrists. He was surprised at just how much research you had also put into knot tying, figuring out the perfect ways to tie the ropes around him. You had informed him that it was a Box Tie around his arms and a Frog Tie around his legs. He promised himself to look up different shibari rope ties later. He shifted slightly, the carpet of your living room starting to dig into the skin of his shins.

His cock was hard already, twitching between his thighs. You hadn’t even touched him yet. Fuck, you weren’t even in the room yet. All you had done was tie him up, which was an experience itself. A deep breath filled his lungs, the rope digging into the flesh of his pecs. A shaky breath left him, his cock twitching from the sensation of the ropes against his skin. He couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, thinking about when you were tying the ropes on his torso.

“Really?”

“Bradley, you have great tits. Sue me if I want to show them off.”

His hands tightened into fists, nails digging into his palms. Even though the ropes were the only thing on him, he felt hot. The anticipation was making his body boil. That was when he heard your footsteps. He watched the hallway, arms tugging lightly against the ropes. He shifted his legs, holding a groan back as the ropes dug into his thighs and calves.

When you came into view he almost moaned. You were wearing a piece of lingerie he had never seen before. It was a dark purple leather corset with a matching pair of panties. He tilted his head back, keeping his eyes on you as you strolled over to him. You leaned over him when you stood in front of him.

“Safe word?”

“Pineapple.” You nodded, accepting his safeword.

The two of you had already discussed the play situation. He was your sub who was in trouble, so now he had to beg for forgiveness by pleasing you. Bradley wasn’t sure if he would be into it, but now he was thinking otherwise. He had never seen you look like this, lace being what you normally wore for lingerie. Seeing you look this domineering was making his cock twitch.

“Color?”

“Green.” He breathed out. That was the signal, your signal to start the play.

“Look at me.” Bradley felt a shiver run down his spine. There was a commanding tone to your voice. He paused for a moment. “Now.”

Finally, he raised his head to look at you. His dry lips were slightly parted, heavy breaths passing them. You took in your work, circling him like a predator.

Two sections of rope ran across his chest, one section above his pecs and the other below them. They lead to his arms, wrapping around his biceps then disappearing to his back. The main knot was in the center of his back, rope wrapped around his wrists. His hands rested by the bottom of his biceps, holding the muscle gently.

Two thick sections of rope were wrapped around each thigh and calf, one closer to his ankles and hips while the other was near his knees. His cock was already at full attention, weeping with precum. It was almost cute how aroused he was without you even touching him. The pure anticipation of you using him making him this hard. But nonetheless, he looked like a masterpiece.

“Do you know what you did?” You asked, hand reaching out to caress his face. Bradley leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and letting out a soft breath.

“Yes, Master.” You rubbed your thumb gently against his cheek.

“Tell me why.” His eyes fluttered open, revealing those beautiful hazel irises.

“I was bad.” A forgiving look took over his features. A smirk formed on your lips, he was really playing this role up.

“Yes, very bad. Do you know what that means?” You took his chin between your thumb and forefinger.

“I have to apologize.” You tilted his head back a little more, putting his Adam's apple on full display. He swallowed audibly, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“That’s right, puppy. Now how are you going to apologize?” Your fingers tightened on his chin lightly.

“I’m going to please you.”

“Good, puppy. Now open up.” Bradley opened his mouth, eagerly taking your thumb into his mouth. He moaned around your thumb, swirling his tongue around it. His mouth was so wet and warm, it almost made you buckle in your persona. “What a good puppy, taking my thumb so well. Do you want my fingers?”

He opened his mouth, eagerly waiting as you offered him your middle and ring fingers. He wrapped his lips around them, swirling his tongue around the new digits. His eyes fluttered close as you started rocking your fingers in and out of his mouth. The pads of your fingers slid over his tongue, running over all the taste buds gently. Bradley let a groan escape him, hips canting forward slightly.

“What a needy puppy. Your cock is already so hard.” You looked down at his cock, taking in the redness of the head. Bradley groaned again, opening his eyes and pulling back from your fingers.

“Just for you master.” You smiled softly, tracing his lips with your wet fingers.

“Did I say you could speak?” You asked. Bradley had a small hurt look in his eyes, diverting his gaze from you.

“No.” You pulled your hands away from them. A redness had started to fill his cheek, spreading down his thick neck to his chest.

“That’s right,” you hooked your thumbs in your panties, “gotta be good for me puppy. Being bad is what got you in this situation.” Bradley nodded as he watched you guide your panties down your legs. You tossed them on the couch somewhere behind him.

“We should keep that mouth busy, right?” Bradley nodded, straining against the bindings lightly.

He was starting to get antsy. Starting to even hate the bindings you put him in. The restriction of not touching you was driving him wild. A frustrated look settled on his features. His eyebrows knitted together, his biceps flexing in frustration.

“What’s wrong, puppy?” You asked, taking his chin between your thumb and forefinger again.

“I wanna touch you.” You leaned down, placing a kiss to his forehead.

“Don’t worry, puppy, you’re about to.” You stood up, inching closer to him.

Bradley knew what you were going to do. Ride his face. It was honestly one of his favorite things, when he got to touch you. Him being able to dig his fingers into the flesh of your, urging you to ride his face. But this was going to be much different. He was going to have zero control, something that was finally hitting him. He shoved those feelings down though, deciding that he was going to at least make the most out of this contact.

“Mouth.”

Bradley opened his mouth for you. Bradley’s legs were closed, his dick and balls settled in his lap. You shifted closer to him, placing a leg on each side of his legs. You position your pussy right in front of him. Bradley let out a moan when you spread your legs a little.

“Go on, dog. Eat.”

With that Bradley closed the space between you two. His mouth latched onto your cunt with a needy whimper. His tongue dove between your folds, lapping at your clit and juices. His mustache dug into you, something that drove you wild. He was definitely making it hard for you to remain in character.

One of your hands drifted down to the back of his head. You pet at his hair, occasionally threading your fingers through his honey brown locks. He moaned into your cunt, flicking his tongue against your clit lightly. Soft sighs passed your lips, trying not to give into the pleasure too much.

Bradley kept his eyes glued on you. Your soft noises were egging him on, wanting to hear them get louder. He kept lapping his tongue against your folds and clit, not wanting to leave anything untouched. Your taste was intoxicating, urging him to continue. He wanted to please you, wanted to make you cum all over his face. He couldn’t hold back a moan when you tugged his hair lightly.

“Does my puppy like that? Like when I pull your hair?” Bradley nodded while keeping his tongue tightly pressed on your clit.

Shudders ran through your body, the sensation catching you a bit off guard. A wicked smile formed on your lips. Your fingers tightened in his hair again, earning another moan. You pushed his face into you harder, moaning when his mustache dug against you.

“Such a good dog.” Bradley moaned at the name.

He had never thought about this before, being someone’s sub. Or at least, never put too much thought into it. But he couldn’t help the way his cock was twitching anytime you made a noise. The softest of sigh and slightest breaths were driving him mad. All he wanted right now was for you to use him. Cum all over his face and not even touch him.

Bradley had a tightness in his lower abdomen already, similar to you. You were starting to lose yourself a little bit. Hips canting forward, keeping your fingers tight in his hair. You were full on riding his face, using his mouth for your pleasure. His biceps flexed against the ropes that were binding him, digging tightly into his skin. He could feel his chest expand against the rope, pushing his pecs out for show.

It was truly a sight to behold. Bradley eating you out while being tied up. He was normally the more dominant one, but this was unlocking something inside of you. Seeing him pleasing you like this, ropes tight on his skin, pecs pushed out like a pair of tits. It was driving you crazy, pushing you closer to your orgasm than you expected. You were already at the edge, teetering with each flick of his tongue.

“You want my cum dog?” Bradley nodded eagerly, licking vigorously at your clit.

That sent you over the edge, a loud moan emanating from you. Your legs started to shake as you came, Bradley’s tongue not leaving you. Your fingers were still tight in his hair, keeping him tightly pressed against you. As overstimulating as it was, you didn’t want it to end. You wanted to ride this orgasm out as long as possible. It was only when your legs felt like they were gonna give out that you stopped.

Bradley’s cheeks were bright red when you pulled his face off you. His chest heaved with each breath, ropes pressing tightly into him. His mouth was still open, tongue on display for you. His eyes were glazed over in a haze, drunk on what had just happened. You looked at his cock, taking in the incessant twitching and redness of the head.

You tapped his knees with your foot, signaling for him to open them. He moved his legs open, putting his cock and balls on full display for you. His eyes never left you, watching as you kneel between his legs. You brought a hand to his cheek, thumb rubbing softly against his skin. Bradley leaned into your palm, trying to nuzzle it softly.

Your other hand moved to his cock, fingertips moving over his length. Bradley let out a whimper, hips canting forward. You trailed your fingertips up his length, never fully gripping his length.

“You did so good for me puppy. So good.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “So good, I think you deserve a treat. Do you think you deserve a treat?” Bradley nodded against your palm. “Words puppy, I know you can use them.”

“I want a treat, master.” You finally gripped his cock fully, jerking softly.

A whine fell from his lips. He was already close from eating you out, the tightness almost unbearable now. His hips were twitching like crazy, fucking up into your fist. He didn’t even care that it was a dry fist, he just wanted to come for you.

“That’s it puppy, come for me.” Bradley let out a wail when you stilled your hand, his hips fucking your hand.

All the muscles in his body tightened, flexing against the bindings as he came. Whines and moans poured from him as he kept fucking your hand. His hot cum collected in your palm, creating an oversensitivity around his cock. The new slick sensation was becoming too much, but he could barely stop his hips from moving. It only stopped once you removed your hand.

Bradley slumped forward, body almost crumbling against you. You let him lean on you, balancing him as he came down from his own high. You ran your fingers through his hair, soothing him the best you could. You held your cum covered hand away, not wanting to get any on you or him. The two of you sat there for a moment, letting him catch his breath.

“Bradley.”

“Hmm?” He nuzzled into your neck.

“Are you okay?” You asked, concern settling into you.

“Mhm, just tired.” He closed his eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep yet, B. We gotta get you cleaned up. How does a bath sound?” Bradley made a noise that sounded like agreement. He shifted back onto his legs, letting you get up to find a washcloth to clean the both of you.

While finding the washcloth you started the bath, letting it fill as you went to clean him. You made sure to add some epsom salt to the bath too, knowing his muscle would be sore. After you cleaned your hand and his cock you undid his bindings. The ropes fell gently from his body as they were loosened. There were soft rope shaped patterns on his skin. You had to stifle a moan as you saw them.

You helped him walk towards the bathroom, settling him in the bathtub. You slipped off your corset once he was in the bathtub, sitting near the edge to watch him. Bradley laid there for a moment, knees bent so he could have his torso submerged under the water. He was the first one to break the silence.

“That was hot.” You smirked.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good to know.” He opened an eyelid looking at you.

“Seeing you like that was sexy.” You felt a heat boil in you.

“I wasn’t sure how well you would like it.” Your embarrassment was finally catching up to you.

“I liked it a lot, just not sure if I can do it regularly.” He smiled at you softly.

“That’s okay, I’m not sure if I can either.”

You sat there with Bradley as he soaked, eventually holding his hand. The two of you talked about anything and everything. The both of you were just basking, basking in the love and trust you had in one another.

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ficstuff · 2 years ago

Note

Jake really really loving you and your oral fixation-🤭

warnings: gender neutral!reader, finger sucking, m!receiving oral sex, praise, degradation, slight spit kink, dom/sub dynamics, 18+ minors dni

masterlist

you let it slip about your little oral fixation very early on in your relationship with jake. you flat out told him you like to suck on fingers, so now, every time you’re together, he makes sure to give it to you.

whether you’re sleepily cuddling on the couch, or in the midst of sex, jake always keeps your mouth full. he’s developed kind of a trigger; even if he’s not turned on and he innocently puts his thumb in your mouth to suck on, the feeling of your hot, tight mouth sucking on it instantly turns him on.

“you like my fingers in your mouth, baby?”

“you suck on ‘em so good, so sweet for me”

“such a gorgeous little thing”

when the moment is less sweet and more hot and heavy, jake will take his drool covered fingers and drag them across your cheeks, down your chin, just to make you messy. if he’s feeling mean, he might gag you with them so he can see your pretty eyes water.

jake knows how much you love having your mouth full with his fingers, and the same applies to his cock. you crave the heavy weight on your tongue, but in true hangman fashion, he uses this knowledge as leverage against you.

if you’ve begged and begged to suck him off, he’ll finally relent, but he won’t give it up easily. he’ll hold you by your hair, just far enough away where the tip touches your lips, and he slowly feeds you his cock and pulls back at his leisure

“you take what i give you, sweetheart. don’t get greedy on me”

“your mouth feels like heaven, swear i fuckin’ died for this”

“stop bein’ so dramatic, you know you can take more than that”

he’s an asshole, but he loves his baby

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ficstuff · 2 years ago

Text

Desire

Warnings: Drinking, cursing, Smut 18+

It shouldn't be this hard to fuck your husband. I mean, for crying out loud, you and Rooster were the only married couple in the Dagger friend group. Sure, Phoenix and Hangman were engaged. Bob had his girlfriend that he brought with him, and Maverick and Penny were, well— Maverick and Penny.

But you were the only married couple, and it seemed like this month, the universe had been conspiring to keep you from getting laid.

First, you had the flu and didn't want Rooster anywhere near you. Then your period came early. And not that you were opposed to period sex. You definitely weren't. You just weren't feeling it. And then Rooster had to spend a week in Lemoore demonstrating some new tech, and now that he was finally home, the two of you were like dogs in heat.

That was until Jake had called him a few hours ago to remind him about Javy's birthday celebration at the Hard Deck.

So here you were, leaning up against the wall, watching your husband play pool with the boys.

God he looked so fucking good in the new Hawiian shirt you had gotten him. The sleeves were fitted just enough to strain against his biceps when he flexed them to line up his shot. And you're sure that he wore those light washed blue jeans just to fuck with you, because boy did they make his ass look good.

It wasn't fair that he was walking around like sex on legs, and you couldn't do anything about it.

Or could you?

You smirked wickedly behind your drink as you met Rooster's eyes across the pool table. You definitely weren't trying to distract him from his game. It was a total coincidence that you just happened to lean forward and squeeze your chest together at the exact moment he took his shot.

And you definitely didn't mean to graze his ass when you walked behind him the next time was bent over the pool table.

And you just had to squeeze past him and brush your ass against his crotch so you could do a tequila shot with Phoenix.

You tipped your head back and let the clear liquid burn its way down your throat. You bit the lime, and you couldn't help that a stray drop of juice from it ran down your face along your neck.

All of those events were just— happy accidents.

Rooster's grip on the pool cue tightened. He knew what you were doing. He was doing his best not to let you win. Trying to focus on anything but you and the little game you were playing.

He took a breath and tried to drown out your laughter by listening to the music coming from the jukebox. However, U2 singing about a fever getting higher and desire growing wasn't helping his situation.

You and Phoenix dancing on each other while the song blasted through the speakers also didn't help.

Thankfully it was no longer his turn at the pool game, so he could take a seat for a minute and try to discreetly readjust the semi he was sporting. Normally he wouldn't be this turned on by your little stunts, but it had been almost a month since he had fucked you, and it was starting to get to him.

You noticed he had sat down, so you took the opportunity to waltz over and plant yourself in his lap. You gave him a sweet smile as you wiggled your ass against his cock, all in the name of getting comfortable.

His hands harshly grabbed your hips to still your movements as he let out a hiss. He gave you a stern glance before whispering in your ear.

"Sweetheart, if you don't stop teasing me right now, I'm going to take you to the bathroom and bend you over my knee." He warned.

"Is that a promise?" You asked with another wiggle of your rear.

"Honey. I mean it, be a good girl and cut it out." He growled in your ear before giving your hips a squeeze.

You turned and looked him dead in the eyes before saying, "Make me."

Rooster was stunned at your words. He pulled back and looked at your face. You sat there still smiling at him with big, innocent doe eyes. To those around you, it looked like the two of you were having a sweet exchange, but it was much more wicked than that.

You gave him a peck on the lips before hopping off his lap and walking towards the bathroom. Before opening the door, you turned back and shot Rooster a wink before gesturing to your phone and shutting the door.

Rooster quickly checked his phone and noticed the new text from you, telling him to meet you in the bathroom in five minutes.

He watched the time slowly tick by on his phone before finally excusing himself from the group. He sped to the bathroom, ignoring the calls of Hangman and the others asking him to come back.

He can vaugly hear Bob saying something about not waiting on him, but he doesn't really care at this point.

No, he's on a mission to fuck you... pool game be damned.

He pushes his way through the door and locks it before turning to look at you. You're perched up on the counter, leaning back on your hands.

"Took you long enough," you say as he makes his way over to you and harshly kisses you.

His hands are all over your body. He tugs down your tank top and pulls your bra cups down in one swift motion. He attaches his lips to one of your perky nipples and swirls his fingers around the other one.

Your hands fly to his hair as you try to hold him closer to you.

Normally, Rooster would take his time with you. Build you up to the edge over and over again until you were a babbling, crying mess. But he knew the two of you were on borrowed time, and you didn't have long before someone came looking for you.

"C'mon baby, we don't have much time before people start wondering what we are doing. My pussy is aching to have your cock inside it." You moan against his ear, trying to urge him on

"You don't think my cock is aching to be inside you? I haven't had you in almost four weeks, woman." He growls back, jerking your hips forward on the counter to pull you flush against him.

"Not my fault you've been in Lemoore the past week." You tease back, nipping at his ear lobe.

"Don't fucking remind me about Lemoore. I was so wound up I had to jerk off in the barracks like a fucking horny teenager." He groaned while reaching for the button of your jeans.

"Watched some of those videos I have of you on my phone. Was nice, but not nearly as good as the real thing." He moaned while pulling your pants and panties down in one swift motion.

"Oh, baby," you moan as his fingers skimmed along your soaked folds. "Which ones did you watch? The ones where I'm choking on your cock?" You hummed against him. He grunted in response. "Or what about the ones where I'm finger fucking myself? Was it one of those?" You ask him. He doesn't respond. Instead, he sinks to the floor in front of you. His breath is hot against your core as he speaks.

"No, I watched my personal favorite. The one we made in front of the mirror. Love seeing my girl so cock drunk and fucked out while she's taking me so well. You're like my own personal pornstar in that one baby." He tells you before burying his face in your heat.

He pulls one of your thighs over his shoulder to give him more access. His tongue laps against you in fast, hard strokes. It doesn't take long before you feel your release build in your belly.

"Oh fuck, Rooster! Feels so good!" You cry out as you grind your pussy against his face, trying to get some more friction.

Rooster slips two fingers into your weeping cunt, burying them past the knuckles and crooking them just the way he knows you like. He finds that wonderful spongy spot inside you and curls his fingers over it, over and over again.

You throw your head back unable to contain the moan that leaves your mouth. You really were going to try and be quiet, but it was no use. They way his hands and mouth were working you, you wanted everyone to know how good he made you feel.

"Right there, baby, please don't stop!" You cried out, and he sped up his fingers while his tongue drew figure eights on your clit. You gripped his shoulder to ground yourself, red nails digging into him as your climax washed over you.

Rooster rose up, your release glistening all over his face. He wiped it with the back of his hand before licking his fingers clean.

"Nothing line having my favorite meal after going so long without it." He tells you. You roll your eyes at him.

Rooster doesn't give you time to respond before he pulls you off the counter, spins you around, and jerks your pants down to your ankles before pushing you down against the counter.

He slots his thigh between yours and kicks your legs further apart.

He pushes into you in one fluid motion. He gives you a few moments to adjust to the feeling of him being inside you. You'd think you'd be used to him by now, but even now after a year of marriage and years of being together, you still need some time to adjust to his size, because he's just so damn big.

Once you've settled down, you rock your hips back against him, signaling for him to move.

He starts out slow, building a rhythm. His fingers flex against your hips, pulling you flush against him with each snap of his hips. He wants, no, needs to be deeper inside you. He has the overwhelming urge to fill you, consume you, possess you. He wants to fuck you dumb, push every thought out of your brain, until all you know is him.

The sounds that are coming from you are lewd. If you had half a brain about you right now, maybe you would be embarrassed. But all that's on your mind is a carnal desire to be fucked senseless by your husband.

Your skin is flush. You feel like a candle that's been lit and left alone, burning out of control. Each thrust of his hips, each drag of his cock through your folds, each filthy thing he whispers in your ear only fans that flame that's burning in you.

Rooster hips are relentless against yours as he continues to pound into you. You're trying so hard to stay quiet, but it's damn near. Impossible.

"Come on baby, let them hear you. I want everyone to know how good I make you feel." He moans in your ear. You can't contain the groan that comes from deep inside you.

You lull your head back against Rooster's shoulder as the arm he has wrapped around your torso pulls your tighter against him.

You're so close, and he knows it. Rooster probably knows your body better than you do. He feels your walls flutter around him. Gripping him, not wanting to let him go.

He grabs your chin and forces you to look at yourself in the mirror. He wants you to watch yourself fall apart.

"Look at you, honey. So beautiful. So fucked out. I want you to watch. Want you to see what I see. Want you to see how fucking gorgeous you look when you cum all over my cock." Rooster whispers hotly in your ear.

He holds your face there as his hips repeatedly snap into yours.

The hand around your middle moves so he can draw tight circles on your overly sensitive clit.

Without him supporting you, you lean forward, searching for something to grab onto. Your hand lands on the handle of the sink faucet.

You grip onto it for dear life. Your eyes never leaving the mirror.

This is truly the most erotic thing you've ever done. Your breast bounce with each thrust of his hips. You can see the fucked out expression all over your face. Your cheeks are flushed, your mouth hangs open in an O shape.

You lock eyes with Rooster in the mirror just as he brings you over the edge. You cry out his name and clamp down on him, sending him to his finish right behind you.

You watch as his face twists in pleasure as he cries out your name.

It's so overwhelming that your whole body shakes before both of you collapse on top of the counter.

It takes you both a minute to come down from your high, Rooster slowly pulls out of you. You wince at the loss of contact, already missing the fullness of him.

He tucks himself back into his pants and attempts to make himself presentable. He grabs a few paper towels to help clean you up, but when he goes to reach for the sink, he sees it. The faucet handle laying haphazardly next to you.

His eyes go wide before he lets out a laugh. It takes a moment before your brain catches up with the rest of your body to realize what you've done.

"Oh Fuck!" You screech out, jerking you clothes back into place. "Penny is going to kill us! Not only did we desecrate her bathroom, we broke something too."

"I'll just pay for it. Don't worry, baby." Rooster says to you casually.

"I can't go back out there with this. If I do, everyone will know what we did. I can not do the walk of shame— again, " you groan.

"Baby, for one, I'm pretty sure everyone knows what we did—even if we didn't break the faucet. And for two—it's not a walk of shame. It's a victory lap." Rooster grins.

"I'm not going out there, Bradley. I can't." You start to panic.

"Since when are you shy? This was your idea." He reminds you.

"I know, I know but I didn't take into account the possibility of property damage!" You scold him.

"C'mon honey, I'll explain everything to Penny, and we will all have a good laugh about it." Rooster grabs your hand, trying to tug you out of the bathroom.

You plant your feet, refusing to move. "Fine, if you want to do this the hard way, don't say I didn't try." Rooster sighs. Before you can respond, he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder. He grabs the faucet handle before carrying you out of the bathroom.

"Bradley Alexander Bradshaw! You put me down this instant you—you big lug!" You scold as you smack his back.

Rooster just laughed and rolled his eyes before approaching the bar. You buried your face in your hands, trying to ignore the wolf whistles from your friends.

He walks up to where Penny and Maverick are sitting and drops the handle down on the counter with a smug grin on his face.

"Sorry Penny, just put it on my tab," He states. Penny looks at the handle, too stunned to speak, before looking back at him. She opens her mouth, but Maverick cuts her off.

"Rooster— Rooster is the broken faucet a result of you defiling my daughter in the restroom?" Maverick sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He already knows the answer.

"Well, Dad, you did say you wanted grandkids." You reply as you crane your neck to look at him because Rooster still has you thrown over his shoulder.

"I—ugh" Maverick sighs, not sure how to respond. He's pretty sure Goose and Carole are laughing at him from Heaven right now.

"Like I said, Penny, just put it on my tab, gotta get the missues home to work on those grandkids for you and Mav," Rooster winks before strolling out with you still over his shoulder.

Hey babes! Here is my second contribution to @roosterforme love is in the air challenge! Inspired by the U2 song "Desire"

Hope you enjoyed it!

Tag List: @dreamingathighaltitude @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mak-32 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @rosiahills22 @thedroneranger @roosterforme @withahappyrefrain @sebsxphia

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ficstuff · 2 years ago

Note

harry teasing the shit out of her (like eating her out SLOWLY, circling her nipples but never with his mouth, uses a vibrator on her but at the lowest level) and finally gives in and fucks her HARD for hourssss. 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 this would make my day

jeSUS harry would literally be the BIGGEST tease and you can't tell me otherwise

he would literally tie your hands to the headboard so fast so you can't push him away or do anything about his incessant teasing.

"Harry please," you beg, your chest heaving, "This is getting ridiculous."

He smirks, looking up from between your legs, his mouth slick, just as his tongue pushes past his lips and licks once across your center, as slowly and torturously as possible.

"Are you not enjoying yourself, sweetheart?" He questions, a certain taunting fire burning in his eyes.

"I would be enjoying myself more if you would get on with it." You spit, getting closer to the end of your rope with every bit of edging.

He simply laughs, pulling his mouth away from you and planting his hands on either side of your head, hovering over you. You feel your breath catch in your throat as his lips trail delicate kisses across the span of your neck. He lifts one hand from the mattress, tracing over your nipple with the tip of his finger, causing goosebumps to form on every inch of your skin. You keep waiting for the sensation of his mouth, but it never comes, and instead you open your eyes the second you hear the familiar tone of buzzing.

He's kneeling back on his heels, the bright pink vibrator grasped in his right hand and a devilish smirk plastered on his mouth.

"Harry-"

"Hush pet," He says sternly, placing the vibrator right where you need him most, "And don't take that tone with me."

You heave out a moan at the contact, your entire body squeezing in on itself as your brain repeats his words in that deliciously condescending tone over and over again.

"Is this getting on with it enough for you?" He taunts, pressing the vibrator directly against your clit with a wicked smile.

You feel your insides start to twist but it's just not enough, he definitely has the stupid vibrator set on the lowest setting just to edge you even further, "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

You swat at his hand trying to get him to speed it up or move it all together but it only makes him more persistent. You feel your stomach tightening, climbing towards that climax, yet falling short every time. You don't know how much more teasing you can take before you shatter from overstimulation.

"Harry please," You beg, your voice coming out raw, "Please, it's too much."

He grins maliciously, pressing the vibrator against you once again, making you cry out as your eyes roll back in your head, "What do you want darling?" He asks, "I want to hear you beg for it."

His words alone are almost enough to push you over the precipice and you're cursing his name as his eyes rake over you awaiting your response, "I want you to," You pant, your words dying out the longer you hold his intense gaze, "I want..."

"Go ahead darling," He grins, pinching your nipple between his fingers, "Tell me what you want me to do to you. I want to hear it."

"Fuck, Harry," You gasp, your core tightening with his words, "I want you to, fuck-"

"You want me to fuck what exactly? Hmm?" He taunts, removing the vibrator from your sensitive bud and instead leaning down between your thighs again, "You want me to fuck you? Is that it?"

You nod your head vigorously, not trusting yourself to form words as his tongue licks up your center again, painstakingly slow and gentle. Your hands flex against the restraints holding you to the headboard as you imagine grabbing his head and shoving it against yourself to finally get some relief.

He chuckles as he pulls away from you, his lips slick again and a single string of saliva connecting his lips to you, "I said I want to hear it," He says sternly, reaching up to grab your chin with his thumb, "Let me hear it, darling."

You take a steadying breath, unable to break contact with his intense stare, "I want you to fuck me."

"Good girl," He grins, "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Your face heats with his words, that spot between your legs aching, and you barely have a second to breathe before he's thrusting his length into you. You cry out into his shoulder, your hands flexing against the restraints holding you in place.

"Fuck," He moans, his arms already shaking, "You feel so fucking good, darling."

Your stomach is already twisting, that familiar fire set ablaze in the pit of it as small moans and whimpers fall past your lips with every thrust. Your mind is shattering, your eyes clenched shut, your vision white as you ride out your high. Your breath is panting out from your mouth in labored heaves and suddenly everything is amplified. The once-dim lights are too bright, the air too hot, the mixture of both of your moans too loud.

"Harry," You wheeze, "It's too much-"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" He growls, his thrusts quickening, his grip on your hips tightening to keep you in place, "Wanted me to fuck you, right darling? Wanted to cum for me?"

You watch as his hand reaches between the two of you, his finger tips circling that oversensitive bud in time with his relentless thrusts into you. You cry out, your back arching, your core aching as your legs start to shake again.

"You practically begged me to fuck you," He grins devilishly, grabbing your ass roughly and flipping you onto your front, your face shoved into the mattress to stifle your whimpers, "I'll decide when you've had enough, darling."

*my face after posting this knowing i might have taken it too far*

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ficstuff · 2 years ago

Note

Could you just imagine... Sub Bradley riding him and he cums before you give him permission too and so you ride his face to make him clean up his mess? Oh girl

I fucking love sub!Bradley

Bradley knows he fucked up. You can see it in his eyes when you grab him by his sunkissed hair, forcing him to look at you.

"Did I say you could do that?" You hiss.

His eyes widened as he spits out "I'm so- Ma'am- I'm so sorr-"

The grip you have on his hair tightens, causing him to whine.

"Answer me, Lieutenant" You spit out his title, because in between your bed sheets, it doesn't mean jack shit.

"N-No. I'm-I'm sorry, let-lemme make it up, I can be good," if he didn't look so pretty when he begged, you would have left him there.

But instead, you just smile. You move your body up, the grip you have in his hair as tight as ever.

"Clean up your mess," You raise your hips just enough that it's too far away from his eager tongue. You grin at the whine that escapes his lips.

When you sink down onto his face, you can't help but throw your head back as his tongue finds its way to your entrance, cleaning up the evidence of his failure to follow your directions.

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ficstuff · 2 years ago

Note

wasted + rooster please! congratulations 💝

golden hour

pairing- rooster x afab reader

warnings- 18+, unprotected piv, slight dumbification/degradation, light d/s, dom bradley, mention of oral (f receiving), completely unedited

length- 1.2k

an- thank you so much love!!! for the prompt "i know baby, i know" & many apologies for the wait on these celly requests. this was written in like....20 minutes. i have no idea if it's good or not

edit- realizing the next morning whatever took over my brain to write this was clearly inspired by @gretagerwigsmuse and the bradley & smart aleck cinematic universe (pls go read that it’s way better than this)

You don’t know how you ended up here. Mere hours ago, you were seconds away from killing Abby for making you go to the Hard Deck. Military bars all have the same kind of guy.

Now, your brain is melting out of your ears as you attempt to take in the gorgeous man above you, his sharp features glowing in the setting sun that filters through his salt-stained windows.

“Fuck,” Bradley groans from where he’s doing his best to bend you in half. “Feel so good, like you were made for me.”

That’s hot, your brain supplies as your eyes catch his biceps bulging where they bracket your head laid out on his pillow.

Shut up, you tell it, trying to keep some semblance of dignity in the face of having gone home with the exact kind of guy you swore you wouldn’t give the time of day.

You were excited when he first set down a fresh Jack and Coke for you at the bar, thinking this mustached man’s worn Hawaiian shirt equaled local instead of infantry. Unfortunately, his friends in khaki who kept trying to get Rooster’s attention quickly proved your instincts wrong.

It would’ve been easier not to end up in his bed if he didn’t look the way he does, brown puppy dog eyes so earnest and kind. If he hadn’t mentioned how much he loves to play Wordle, if his friends hadn't tried to coax him to the piano at least three times while you were there.

(If his arms weren’t threatening to break out of that old Hawaiian shirt.)

Your self-respect is getting shot to hell the longer you babble incoherent nonsense, breaking your gaze from his tan skin as your head lolls to the side, eyes going hazy and unfocused. He pulls all the way out to thrust back in again, slow and teasing, enough to bring you towards the edge again but not tip you over.

You know you’re whining, high-pitched and reedy, but you can’t find the wherewithal the stop any noises from tearing their way out of your throat.

It takes a Herculean effort to move your hands to his neck, tangling in those brown curls, wrapping your legs tight around his hips in an effort to ask for more, something your lips just can’t form right now.

Bradley grins, the edges a little sharp, a little mean as your pathetic whines must have gotten the message across. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you? Made you cum on my tongue and now you want more? Clench that tight cunt around my cock?”

Nodding desperately, you're feeling unhinged, your head bobbing up and down like a bobblehead. When you finally make yourself form actual words, your voice is wrecked. “Please – I need – ”

He catches your lips in a filthy kiss as those skillful fingers make their way down to your clit, stroking in strong, decisive circles. “I know baby, I know.”

Bradley speeds up and you get even louder, throat straining with the mewls leaving your lips.

“Cum for me,” he murmurs against your lips, cock hitting you just right on every thrust.

Your climax snaps through you almost immediately at his command, your back arching up into him and bringing him over the edge with you.

You leave the next morning before he wakes up. You can’t help it.

Sure, he’s hot, but you’re not actually going to date this guy. You just had a momentary lapse in judgment after seeing his deft fingers fly over piano keys, singing his heart out and so fully into the performance you thought the vein in his neck might burst. It was oddly endearing.

Every girl is a sucker for a guy who can sing. Serenades make logic and reasoning fly out the window. It’s totally not your fault.

So, it stands to reason that you nearly knock him down walking into the grocery store later that day. Because that’s the kind of fuck you the universe always has in mind for you.

“Hey,” Roos—no, Bradley, smiles, easy like you didn’t sneak out of his house without a second glance mere hours ago. He takes a look at the cold water bottle you have resting against your forehead, barely holding back his amusement. “Rough night?”

You want to glower at him but it’s hard to be mad at someone that looks like that under fluorescent lighting, turning away instead so you don’t have to stare at his unfairly beautiful face and remember what that ridiculous mustache feels like between your thighs. “Shut up.”

“I think you’re limping a little bit,” Bradley mock whispers as he follows you down the chips aisle.

He sounds way too proud of himself. You flip him off and he laughs, musical and happy despite the awkward circumstances. You can’t decide if you want to punch him or kiss him.

You and Bradley start talking at the same time, words rushed and overlapping.

“You snuck out before I got a chance to ask – ”

“Bradley, you seem like a nice guy, but I – ”

A tan arm reaches across you for a bag of salt and vinegar Lays and tossing them into his basket on the floor after you both fall silent. “You don’t like military guys.”

You freeze, mouth gaping open like a fish.

He shrugs. “It was pretty obvious last night.”

“I – yeah, I don’t – ” you stutter before pausing for a deep breath. “Not sure we’re a good fit, is all.”

Bradley nods. “I get it. I had fun with you though, and not just at my house. If you're willing to reconsider, I’d like to think I’m much more than my job.”

You purse your lips, wondering if your brain is actually broken as you consider taking him up his offer. He must catch on to your deliberation because he takes a step closer to you, big hand settling against your waist slow and gentle, giving you plenty of time to step away. Your feet are glued to the floor as you try not to sway into him and get lost in the spicy scent lingering on his tan skin.

“Breakfast,” he suggests when a few moments pass without you answering.

“It’s four p.m.,” you say warily.

He scrunches his nose like that’s inconsequential. “I’ll cook.”

“You know how to cook?”

He shoots you a withering glare and you smirk, pleased to have made him feel as wrong-footed as you’ve felt since he sat down across from you yesterday.

“Do you remember where my house is, or did you sprint out too quickly to notice?”

“I don’t remember saying yes.”

“You strike me as the kind of girl that isn’t afraid to tell me to fuck off.”

“So?”

He gestures at the lack of space between you with his free hand, where your body has betrayed you by leaning into his warmth. “This doesn’t feel like you telling me to go to hell.”

“It’s not,” you sigh, mouth twitching up at the corners despite your best efforts as you shove your basket into his hands. “Put my groceries on Uncle Sam’s bill.”

Bradley practically beams at that. “Of course. But you’ll have to come over to my place to get them, can’t have you sneaking off before I get a chance to play some Righteous Brothers for you.”

The picture that paints for you makes you want to melt. You’re fucked.

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ficstuff · 2 years ago

Text

Boiling Point

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x f!reader

Summary: A spur of the moment invitation leads you to underestimate what years worth of sexual tension with Rooster will amount to when placed within the stifling square footage of your humble apartment.

Word Count: 2.2k

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, oral sex (m!receiving), thigh riding, unprotected p in v, rough sex, praise kink, table sex

Part of you knows that if you gave Rooster an inch, he’d take it. If you softened your hard edges just enough to be pliable beneath his calloused hands, ones that you can only imagine would trail across your skin with the same deft precision that he utilizes in the cockpit, he’d take you apart piece-by-piece.

Prompt: The only two people without plans for Christmas might as well spend it together (dedicated to @frankiesbadlanding 💖)

DECK THE HALLS MASTERLIST

“You can’t spend Christmas alone, Bradshaw.”

While you’d certainly meant what you’d said to Rooster days ago as you were trudging across the base—both of you breathing hard and covered in sweat after hours of intensive drills in the air—now that he’s standing here in the middle of your living room with his hands stuffed in his pockets as he observes the collage of artwork spread across your walls, your apartment suddenly feels too goddamn small.

—too small for this.

In the years that you’ve known Bradley, the stifling air that lingers between the two of you has been taut with a simmering tension, spread far too thin to weather much more of the tightrope of uncertainty you’ve both been carefully traipsing across day in and day out. Long before you enrolled in the naval academy, you vowed not to fall into the trap of distractions in the form of tall, handsome pilots with soft eyes and easy smiles—a rule made specifically for men like the one currently trailing his fingertips over the small piano by the window.

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw is the definition of a goddamn distraction, through and fucking through.

For all that you’ve done to earn the designation of “Specter,” a call sign born from your uncanny ability to get the drop on your teammates with a near ghostly grace, Rooster is the one person that makes you stumble without fail once your feet are firmly planted back on the ground. Sometimes, you don’t think he’s even aware of it, the way he catches you off guard with his barking laugh, the way your nerves are set alight whenever he lowers his sunglasses and offers you a lopsided grin from across the room. The way your steady hands will tremble from a mere brush of his fingers.

It should bother you, really, how easily he gets under your skin.

How effortlessly he draws you into his orbit.

How he unceasingly invades your thoughts.

It’s a testament to every adamantly stubborn bone in your body that the two of you haven’t fucked it out yet.

He’d work his way into each and every crevice of your being with a white-hot intensity that would rival the manner in which he burns across the skies.

Bradley would ruin you for anyone else.

Later, after you’ve eaten dinner and left the dishes to soak in a sea of suds in the sink, the last frayed edges of your paper-thin charade are helpless when Rooster speaks up from where he’s casually leaning against the doorway, eyes tracking your movements across the room.

“Why’d you invite me to spend Christmas with you, Specter?”

You come to a stop beside the kitchen table, fingers briefly drumming across its wooden surface. Too many answers flirt across the tip of your tongue, so you settle on the easiest. “Because I know neither of us have anyone left to celebrate with.”

Pushing off of the wooden frame, he strides toward you, coming to a stop a few feet away. “Is that all?”

Biting your lip, you roll your eyes as you evade the question with one of your own, “Did you really have to wear a Hawaiian shirt on Christmas?”

He glances down at himself as you gesture toward his pink and green top, which he’s predictably left unbuttoned, aviators snugly tucked into the neck of his white t-shirt. Moving closer, he tilts his head to the side. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I think I did.”

Another step.

“Are you sure?”

Another.

“What do you want, Rooster?”

Your backside presses against the lip of the table as he comes to a stop in front of you.

“I want to know why I’m here.”

It’s a fucking loaded question, one that leaves your blood thrumming in your veins as your mind tries to unravel the implication behind it. The unspoken, shared knowledge that you’ve both traversed this liminal space of willful ignorance for far too long.

This invitation wasn’t just about the holiday, and he fucking knows it.

You tell him just that, your response nearly a whisper. “You know why.”

Though you try to focus on a spot over his shoulder, eyes sweeping over the strings of brightly-colored lights strung about in the room beyond, you can’t help but turn your head to meet the weight of his gaze as he replies evenly, “I want to hear you say it.”

Even with the hot caress of his breath dancing across your cheek, you still dig your heels into the tile floor beneath your feet, dizzy as you sway at the precipice of the edge you've always skirted. “Say what, Bradley?”

You swear you can hear the hitch in his breath as his real name leaves your mouth—a rare occurrence.

He glances up at the ceiling for a moment, biting his cheek and tousling his hair. “Say you’re tired of acting like you don’t want this. Because I sure fucking am.”

Your skin prickles with heat, his words dragging down your spine and reverberating in your ears. Without blinking, you let go—

“I am, too."

Rooster goes entirely still for a moment when you finally relent, eyes widening a fraction in something like surprise, and then his mustache twitches at the behest of the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Good,” he murmurs, before leaning in and capturing your lips in a long overdue kiss.

Your body relaxes into Rooster’s solid form as he slots his mouth against yours, and while one of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, the other slides down to grasp at your hip, steadying you as your limbs go pliant under his scorching touch.

There’s no uncertainty in the way he holds you, no awkward fumbling of limbs—rather, there’s a deliberate familiarity in the press of each finger against your skin, a whispered reminder of the trust you already share. In the air, there’s a peculiar harmony to be found in the way the two of you fly side-by-side, rhythmically anticipating one another’s moves through the clouds. And here, now, with your feet planted firmly on solid ground, you’ve finally come to realize that this will be no different.

You tilt your head, and his nose nudges your cheek while his tongue flirts with the seam of your mouth, beckoning you to part your lips for him. When you do, Rooster deepens the kiss, pressing his body firmly against yours and splaying a hand across your lower back. You melt into his body heat, a keening sound escaping your heaving chest at the thrill that runs through you when you press into the muscled thigh he’s planted between your legs.

Rooster’s fingers slide lower, grazing your ass, and he breaks the kiss, muttering against your lips, “You like that?”

He adjusts his leg, the denim of his jeans rubbing against the apex of your thighs, and you can’t help but nod, letting your head fall against his shoulder as he uses his grip on your backside to increase the pressure.

“You look so pretty like this,” he observes, kissing your cheek softly as you arch your back, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Keep going.”

And so you do. Pulling him in for a needy kiss, hands tightly grasping the hairs at the back of his head, your teeth clash as you drag your clothed cunt down his leg.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and the thumb that’s fluttering across your jawline swipes across your bottom lip.

There’s something innately shameless about riding Rooster’s thigh in the middle of your kitchen, like you always knew it’d come down to this somehow. There’s no time to waste being shy at the feeling of the sticky pool of arousal gathered in your underwear, and when you reach down to hike your dress up, Rooster’s hands swiftly slide up your thighs and bunch up the skirt, his thumbs digging into your hip bones.

“Bradley…” you whine as you chase the sparks of pleasure with each thrust—it’s not enough, and he knows it.

He groans into your mouth as you say his name again, taking your bottom lip between his teeth when your hand trails over the erection straining against the front of his pants. You make quick work of the button and zipper, slipping a hand inside, and he rolls his hips into your touch when you wrap your fingers around his hard, throbbing cock. His lips messily slide off of yours and run across your cheek as you pull his shaft out and begin to stroke it. In turn, one of his hands leaves your hips, tugging aside your soaked underwear to swipe two digits through your slick folds.

“Fuck,” he breathes out when he realizes just how wet you are, the tight walls of your cunt easily giving way when he begins to slide his middle finger into your entrance. He quickly inserts another as his mouth finds its way to your neck, nipping and lapping at the sensitive skin there while he begins to pump his fingers in and out of you.

At the feeling of you eagerly rocking your hips into his hand while tugging at his dick, Rooster chuckles, grazing his teeth over your earlobe. “You want more, Specter?”

“Please.”

“Right here?”

“Yeah, on the table.”

“Tell me how you like it,” he croons, crooking his fingers inside of you as he runs his tongue along the underside of your jaw.

You pluck his sunglasses from where they’re still dangling precariously from the neck of his shirt, dropping them onto the table. “You don’t need to be gentle.”

No sooner than the words have left your lips, he spins you around, and you find yourself bent over the tabletop, your cheek pressed against the cool wooden surface as Rooster’s hands trail over the globes of your ass.

He folds his body over yours for a moment, his cock nestled between your cheeks as his mouth hovers near your face. “I should have known you’d like it rough.”

When stands back up, he nudges your legs further apart and teases your dripping folds with the head of his cock, wiping your arousal along his shaft. He notches himself at your entrance for a moment, and just as you go to take a breath, he plunges inside of you without warning. Both of you moan in unison at the feeling of your walls stretching to accommodate him as he buries himself inside of you, your cunt both weeping and tingling at the thick intrusion splitting you open.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans as he pulls his cock almost completely out of you, only to slam it back inside, his balls smacking against your ass.

A choked out sob of pleasure leaves your mouth in response as your muscles tighten at the feeling of Rooster’s shaft massaging your inner walls while he begins to set a punishing rhythm pounding into you.

“Harder,” you pant out.

The feet of the table grunt in protest, skidding a few inches backward as he drives his length into your pussy with fervor, recklessly rutting into you at a brutal pace. Your fingers are in the midst of reaching out to grasp for purchase along the smooth surface of the tabletop when you feel both of your arms being tugged behind your back. Rooster wraps a hand over your wrists, pinning your hands against your lower back as he ravages your hole.

Sounds of wet, smacking flesh fill the room, and you squirm in his grip as the growing ache between your thighs begins to spread. Noticing the way your legs have begun to tremble, he leans in, using his free hand to toy with your swollen clit. At the feeling of Rooster’s fingers rubbing circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves, the tight coil of pleasure writhing in your gut explodes, your cunt clenching down on his shaft as your orgasm washes over you.

As you relax slightly, Rooster releases your hands, grasping his cock as he slips it out of your hole. You push off of the table, turning around to find him fisting his length, and you drop to your knees, taking him into your mouth.

You hollow your cheeks as you take him deep into your throat, his length coated in your juices. Rooster’s hand comes up to cup the back of your head, and he groans as you suck his cock, one of your hands planted at the base as the other cups his balls. His imminent climax finds him between one breath and the next, his shaft pulsing on your tongue as you swallow down the hot, thick ropes of cum he spills down your throat.

Breathing hard, you pull your lips off of Rooster's spent cock and plop backward onto the floor, stealing a glance up at him to see that he's already on his way down to meet you on the tiles. And even with the lingering traces of his release still lingering on your swollen, spit-soaked lips, he takes your face into his hands and kisses you hard.

A burning smell begins to fill the kitchen, and you belatedly realize you forgot to set a timer on the oven after tossing in the pie that he'd brought over.

"Shit, the pie—"

Rooster makes a sound of protest as you pull your mouth away from his when you turn to look at the stove.

"Fuck the pie," he mutters, turning your chin back to face him and capturing your lips with his once more.

—

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