#rooster bradshaw smut

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Welcome Home, Rooster Bradshaw.

summary: It's been a long six months away from home for Bradley, and you're going to give him the welcome you both deserve.

a/n: ignore that this gif is from the offer, ok? It fits the vibe.

pairing: bradley bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: masturbation (m), facesitting, p in v, creampie, dirty talk, bradley's a vocal lover, praise kink.

word count: 3k

taglist: @nouis-bum @floydsmuse @mamachasesmayhem @avengersfan25 @jessicab1991 @atarmychick007 @b-bradshaw @djs8891 @fall-winter-heart97 @primroseluna @silversprings-mp3 @drxgxnslxyer @gardenavenue

Two more days.

Two more days until Bradley could see your face in person again. Two more days until he could be home and in his own space. 

Bradley let out a heavy, tired sigh, reaching his hand under his pillow. He pulled out the picture of you that he’d brought with him on deployment, tracing over your image with his fingers gently. The picture’s edges were becoming curled, worn from being tucked into flight helmets and under pillows, clutched in sweating, sometimes shaking palms, lips pressed to it in a tender kiss on occasion. He admired the photo, he’d taken it on a date you went on before he left. 

His dad’s well-loved Polaroid camera, left to him as a kid, in hand, he’d taken you to Mission Beach for the day, wanting to have the full tourist experience with you before he got shipped to the middle of the Pacific again. He found a store in Coronado that sold film for vintage cameras, building up a small stockpile for himself. He’d given you a full photoshoot that day — pictures snapped at every opportunity. Watching planes fly over head, playing games in the arcade, rides on the wooden rollercoaster, rock climbing, lunch dates, mini golf, and rock climbing. He’d snapped a couple of you in your sundress, smiling sweetly at him for the camera, your hair flowing in the warm Pacific breeze. 

This photo, however, was the one of you laughing on the beach, your baby blue two-piece swimsuit on, the high-waisted bottoms hugging your curves, the coordinating blue top cupping your breasts in a way that pushed them upever so slightly. He could practically hear your laugh whenever he looked at it, and it made his heartache that little bit more each time. 

“Fuck," he muttered to himself, sighing again as he looked around the bunk. 

Jake was on deck for the night, leaving Bradley with the shared space all to himself for at least a couple of hours. He laid back on his bed, tugging his grey sweatpants down off his hips. He spat into his free hand, using it to stroke his cock in a slow, steady pace, your photograph in his other hand, eyes fixed on your figure as he masturbated. 

Fuck, he missed you. 

He shut his eyes, picturing you as he continued to stroke himself, seeing the facial expression you made whenever you rode him, eyes shut with ecstasy, tits bouncing up and down, hips moving, hands pressed to his chest. The mental image alone was almost enough to drive him over the brink. He let out a deep grunt as he finished, your name escaping him in a soft moan. 

Two days couldn’t come soon enough. 

When he finally got home, Bradley was exhausted. The time difference had caused him more jet lag than it usually did, not that he was sleeping well without you to begin with. He never did. He’d landed earlier than anticipated, coming home a day before he was expected. He unlaced his standard issue boots, kicking them off at the door before heading directly to the laundry room. Stripping clean from his uniform, he tossed it into the washing machine, desperate for a shower and fresh, comfortable clothes.

With a dry towel wrapped around his waist, he bounded up the wooden stairs to the main bathroom. He dropped the towel as he turned the shower on, sighing happily as he stepped into the warm water, letting it wash over him for a minute, enjoying one of the first comforts of being home for the first time in six months. 

Stepping out of the tower, he quickly dried himself off and wrapped his towel back around his waist before heading down the hall to the bedroom. Everything was neatly pulled together — freshly laundered sheets on the bed that still smelled like your favourite detergent, his clothes neatly put away for him, fresh flowers sat in a vase on your nightstand, and a new book sat on his, with a note card placed on top. 

B, I saw this the other day at that cute little bookstore on Orange Ave. It made me think of you. I thought you’d like to read it now that you’ll have a little down time. - Love, your girl. Xo

Bradley felt his heart swell as he read your neatly printed note. He picked the book up, scanning the cover with a soft smile before setting it back down. A true crime book about a case in a podcast he’d mentioned in one of his emails home — it was perfect. God, you were perfect.

He tugged a clean white t-shirt over his head before reaching into his dresser for clean boxer briefs and a pair of well-loved denim shorts that were beginning to fray around the cuffs from being worn so frequently. Bradley looked out the bedroom window at the landscape, happy to finally be home. He’d missed all the little things while he was gone — the palm trees, the smell of those little laundry scent beads you swore by, your coordinating body wash, shampoo and conditioner that you insisted on buying for him when you’d learned he’d been coasting through life for 37 years with a 3-in-1 bottle — almost as much as he’d missed you. 

Downstairs in the kitchen, he got to work crafting himself the sandwich to top all sandwiches. He was starving, and after months of bland, unexciting meals on board an aircraft carrier, all he wanted was comfort food. With his turkey club piled high and a glass bottle of Coke from Mexico in hand, he settled into his favourite chair and began to enjoy himself until you came home from work.

When you did come home, you heard the faint sound of voices coming from the back of the house. You dropped your bag at the front door, running through the house so quickly, you’d forgotten to take your shoes off. In the living room sat Bradley, in his favourite, well-loved chair, dozing as sports highlights played in the background, a plate with remnants of a sandwich and a half-finished bottle of Coke sat on the table beside him. 

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his forehead as you stroked his curls, breathing in the smell of his shampoo. He was finally home.

Bradley’s eyes fluttered open, a smile forming on his lips as he wrapped his arms tightly around you, his nose pressed to your neck as you settled into his lap. 

“Missed you,” he murmured against your skin, peppering you with kisses.

“Missed you more, B,” you echoed as you raked your fingers through his hair. 

“God, I missed you so much, honey. This might have been the hardest trip away from you yet.” 

Bradley’s hands rested firmly on your hips as his lips wandered down your neck to your collarbone. He mumbled against your skin, shoving the strap of your tank top down off of your shoulder. His teeth grazed at your exposed, sun kissed skin, causing you to let out a gasp. 

“Bradley!” you squealed, laughing as his deep brown eyes looked at you, taking in the sight of your face again. 

“Mhmm, I missed that laugh of yours,” he hummed, his large hands moving to cup your breasts. “I’ve missed these tits of yours too.”

“I bet you have, were Jake’s not doing it for you?” you teased.

Bradley scoffed as he pulled your tank top off over your head, tossing it off to somewhere in the void across the room. With one hand snaked around your back, he unfastened your bra in one fluid motion, discarding it to the floor. He grinned at you before pressing his mouth back to your collarbone, thumbs tracing circles over your nipples as they pebbled at his touch.

“No, one’s could do it for me like yours do, honey, you know that. Look at you. So pretty for me. My girl’s always looking pretty, ain’t she?” he purred between kisses to your breasts. 

“Bradley,” you laughed, shaking your head, “This is what you want now that you’re finally home?”

“I’ve been wantin’ this since about two hours after I left, six months without you has been torture. I contemplated quitting when I came home. I thought about faking an injury so they’d discharge me. I tried thinking up a thousand ways to come home early — all of them bad.” He nodded, as he looked up at you, hands still cupping your tits. 

“Mhmm, you thought about quitting for me? That’s not the Bradley Bradshaw I know.”

“I swear, honey, this time…this time was harder than usual.”

“Well, I’m all yours now,” you nodded, your hand stroking his cheek. 

Bradley hummed to himself, tilting his head to the side as he thought for a minute. He looked at you, watching as you bit your lower lip. The sight of you alone after so much time apart was enough to make him hard, but now it was becoming unbearable. He needed you. He craved you. 

“Upstairs, now,” he urged, nodding his head as you got off his lap.

You grinned to yourself as you headed up the stairs, walking just slowly enough to your bedroom so Bradley could catch the way your hips swayed with every step, your taut ass bouncing with each movement. It was enough to drive any man insane, but Bradley could barely contain himself. 

Fuck, he missed you.

He pushed you on to the bed, crawling on all fours as he hovered over your body with a wide grin plastered to his face. You placed a hand on his chest, steadying him as your smile faltered for a second. You held your breath for a moment before exhaling, nodding slowly as Bradley sat back on his knees for a minute. 

“Go easy on me, big guy, it’s been a long six months, I’m out of practice,” you teased, grinning at him.

“Shoot, honey, I thought you were gonna tell me you didn’t want me to-never mind, I’ll go easy on ya. I always do, don’t I?”

“Roo, you do the exact opposite of going easy.” You grinned, rolling your eyes at Bradley. 

Bradley repositioned himself over your body, smirking as he took in the sight of you again. His lips began trailing down your abdomen your shorts, sending chills running up and down your spine with every breathy kiss, every drag of his mustache against your skin. With a skillful hand, he popped the button on your shorts open, sitting up as he pulled them off of you. He hooked two fingers into the crotch of your lace trimmed underwear, shoving them out of the way as he ducked his head between your thighs. Feather-light kisses dotted your inner thighs before his mouth found your core. He flattened his tongue against your slit, running it up your folds slowly as he savoured everything he’d missed for the last six months. 

“Just as pretty as I remember it, fuck.”

His fingers spread your folds apart, giving him better access to your clit. The tip of his tongue traced shapes along it, pressing varying degrees of pressure into you, the tip of his nose pressing into your puffy cunt, swollen from how badly you’d been wanting him for the last six months. He mumbled something against your skin, his lips vibrating against your clit as he pressed another kiss to you. He sat himself up fully, smirking at you.

“Get up, pretty girl, I have an idea.”

You let out a whine in protest, sitting up on the bed as Bradley now laid down on his back. Shooting him a look, you raised your palms in protest, shaking your head at him.

“Bradley, you seriously stopped so I would give it to you instead?”

“What? No,” Bradley laughed, shaking his head as he gestured to his face. “Take a seat.”

“You want me to…?”

Bradley lifted his head up off the pillow, giving you a lustful stare, his eyebrows knitting together as he nodded his head. “Did I stutter? Take. A. Seat.”

You rolled your eyes, giving your head a shake as you slipped out of your underwear, dropping them to the floor. Climbing back on to the bed, you hovered yourself above Bradley’s mouth, looking down at him as you chewed on your lip. He shook his head, his mustache tickling at your inner thigh as he kissed up your leg. In one swift motion, he gripped your thighs tightly, pulling you down until his lips were directly under your dripping core, smirking as he murmured against your skin again. 

“That’s my girl. I’ve missed this pussy so fuckin’ much.” He grunts, nodding his head slightly as he buries his tongue into you, nose pressed to your clit. 

“Bradley!” you whimper, your eyes fluttering shut as you reached down, fingers tugging on his dark curls.

Bradley’s tongue worked into you at a breakneck speed, so fast that you wondered how he was able to breathe. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, blunt fingernails digging into your soft skin as he held you in place. His mouth worked on you relentlessly, refusing to let up until he had you a screaming, crying, pretty little mess, just how he (and you) liked it. 

“Bradley, Bradley, Bradley,” you babbled, unable to say anything other than his name as his tongue fucked into you. 

He grunted into your cunt again, mumbling words of praise into your skin. “Tastes so fuckin’ sweet, honey, so fuckin’ sweet.” He growled before delving his tongue into you again.

Your thighs began to shudder and shake, spasming as you felt your orgasm hit you harder than ever before. You shut your eyes, tears stinging as Bradley continued, not breaking his rhythm once as you came, his tongue quickly lapping at your arousal hungrily. He moved his mouth up to your clit, kissing at it with a couple of powerful sucks before pulling his mouth away. He let go of your thighs, a couple of darker marks forming on your skin from where he got carried away, gripping you a little too tightly. You got up, sitting on the bed, panting as you tried to find your mental clarity again. 

Bradley rolled onto his side and surveyed your thigh, pressing gentle kisses to the darkened marks on your skin in apology. Once you found your words again, his big brown eyes looked up at you from where he was laying on the bed. 

“Roo,” you nodded, placing a hand on his cheek, “I missed you so much.”

“I missed ya too, honey. Ain’t done with ya yet though.”

With that, Bradley quickly shimmied out of his denim shorts and boxers, kicking them off clumsily. He crawled across the bed, finding the spot between your thighs. His hands smoothed over your legs, lifting them up and hoisting them up onto his shoulders. You curved your knees around him as he aligned his hardened cock with your entrance, easing into you with a soft groan. 

“That’s my girl, taking me so well. You missed this cock, didn’t you? Missed me fillin’ ya up, huh, pretty girl?” He purred, pausing as he felt your walls stretching around him. 

“Yes, baby,” you nodded, whining as he stretched you. 

God, he was right. You did miss him. You missed him more than you wanted to let on, you missed his presence, his voice, the silly things he’d do that pissed you off, you missed the way he made love to you, passionate and caring, full of praise, making it his life’s mission to make you feel good. He took it as seriously as his work - calculated movements, using the same precision and laser-focus he did in the air.

Your eyelids fluttered shut again as you felt him pull out of you, pushing himself back into you again with a powerful thrust of his hips. Bradley tutted his tongue against the roof of his mouth, refusing to move again. “Nuh-uh, baby girl, keep those pretty eyes on me. Want you lookin’ at me when I fuck you, got it?”

You nodded dumbly as he pounded into your entrance again, making your head spin as your walls clenched around him. He began thrusting into you, starting slowly as he found his rhythm again, savouring every movement, every inch of you that he’d missed over the last six months. Bradley gently pressed his palm into your pubic bone as he thrusted harder, faster into you, the sensation heightening with the added pressure he was giving. You could tell by the knot turning in your stomach that it wasn’t going to be long before you were coming for him again, and if Bradley had his way, it wouldn’t be the last time you did tonight. 

“Feelin’ so fuckin’ good, pretty girl. That’s my girl. That’s my pretty girl,” he praised, his confident demeanor melting away, leaving Bradley a pussy drunk, babbling mess, unable to say anything other than your praises, repeating your name over and over as if it was a spoken prayer.

“‘M not gonna last, honey,” Bradley shook his head as he moaned breathlessly.

Fuck.

His breath hitched in his throat as his hips slowed, stilling as he came inside of you. Bradley let out the deepest grunt you’d ever heard — the past six months of missing you drawing out of him along with it. Ducking his head down as he tried to catch his breath, his curls slicked and stuck to his forehead with sweat, he panted heavily, gently letting your legs go as you dropped them back down to the bed. He looked up at you, deep brown eyes fixed on your features as he nodded breathlessly.

“Fuck, I missed you, honey. I missed this, and you, and home.”

“Welcome home, Rooster. Welcome home.”

[bloatedandalone04]

It Can’t Be That Bad - Part 2

➪the one where bradley fixes his mistake.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, smut, unprotected sex, hair pulling, once again a pain kink, arguments, fighting, descriptions of injuries, jake and bradley brawl for quick a minute, bradley being whipped for you, age gap, oral (f receiving), body worship, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 9.6k | Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The Bronco was barely in park before Bradley was pulling out the keys and swinging the door open. He stuffs them into his pocket, along with his phone and wallet, as he enters the Hard Deck, his free hand fumbling to take off his aviators. His eyes scan the busy bar, looking for any glimpse of you.

After a full sweep of the room, he spots you over by the bar, phone in hand and a smile on your face that was so clearly forced, Bradley felt his heart clench at the sight of it. He stopped short of reaching you when he clued in to the person next to you, the man being the same one who introduced you to him in the first place. “Fucking Hangman,” he muttered under his breath when he saw the way Jake inched closer to you.

You were sitting on a stool while Jake loomed over you, both of you holding a beer in your hands. From Bradley’s point of view, you and Jake looked like a couple who were having a hard time trying not to jump each other’s bones right here and now, and an ugly feeling began creeping up his throat. 

Bradley supposed that was what you and he looked like when you ventured out to the bar together, back before he fucked up and stupidly let you go. 

That was the nice way of putting it. 

He rejected you. You gave him your heart and he threw it back at you without a second thought. He pushed you away without thinking about how it would make you feel, despite him feeling the exact same way, perhaps even stronger. 

Just the sight of you had all the air leaving his lungs. You are so beautiful and so caring and genuine to those around you. How could he ever let you believe you weren’t good enough for him? 

The last six weeks were ones he never wanted to experience ever again. He hated having no one to come home to, and he hated how it could’ve easily been you waiting on that dock for him, had he returned your feelings. The next time he was deployed, he desperately wanted you to be there for him when he got back. He wanted to come home to you. 

Without really having a plan in mind, Bradley made his way over to the bar, the crowded space making it a bit tough. He was a big guy, though, and used it to his advantage on the rare occasions when he felt he needed to. Like right now. 

He pushed past Bob, who had moved to greet him, but Bradley just gave him a quick pat on the back as he passed him. When he was a few feet away, he met Jake’s eyes and watched as he leaned down towards you.

Before Jake could give you the warning that he was right behind you, Bradley closed the distance and moved to stand on the other side of you. “Y/n,” he said, nearly breathless at being near you again after six weeks without you. 

You stiffen and glance over at him before turning to Jake and glaring at him. “Thanks for the warning,” you mutter and Jake just held his hands up in defense, making no move to walk away and give you some alone time with Bradley, like he so desperately wanted. 

“Hey, I tried,” he defended himself, reaching over and grabbing his bottle of beer. “Rooster’s fast when he needs to be, I guess.”

“Y/n,” Bradley said again and ignored Jake as he brought your attention back to him, refraining from placing his hand on the small of your back like he always did when you were beside him at the bar. “Can we talk, please?”

You looked up at him with a near-blank expression before sighing, running the tip of your index finger around the rim of the bottle in front of you. “I don’t think we need to, Bradley,” you answered and he furrowed his brows.

“Why not?” He asked, shaking his head slightly when you began to stand up. “You said we’d-”

“I didn’t,” you cut him off as you stepped backwards and towards Jake, who just placed his hand on your hip, surely knowing it would make Bradley see red. “I said I’d see you tonight, not that I would talk to you. I didn’t come here with you, Bradley, so there’s no reason I need to talk to you.”

Your words felt like a punch directly to his heart, and he just stared at you when Jake guided you away from the bar and towards the pool tables. He stayed still, his eyes burning a hole in the back of Jake’s head as the man showed off just how good he was at the game.

“Hey, Rooster,” Penny’s kind voice said from beside him. “Want your usual?”

But Bradley just shook his head, never tearing his eyes away from the scene in front of him. Fucking. Hangman. “Not tonight,” he answered as Jake pulled you into his side, mirroring the way Bradley did just six weeks prior. “Give me something stronger.”

Six shots and two beers later, and Bradley was just now starting to feel the effects of the alcohol in his system. He wasn’t planning on drinking much tonight, not when he was so sure he’d actually get the chance to explain himself. But you had been glued to Jake all night, similar to the way you used to be before he introduced you to Bradley and you then became attached to his hip, instead. 

And Bradley just watched. He felt like just another guy at the bar who was jealous of someone else’s relationship. Is this how the other men who frequented the Hard Deck felt when they saw you and Bradley all over each other? 

Was he seriously just another guy?

That’s exactly what he felt like as he sipped on his beer, glaring at the way Jake’s hand slowly but surely inched further down your back. He bit back a disapproving grunt, knowing Jake had to be doing this just to rile him up.

He introduced you as his friend, and now that you weren’t associated with Bradley anymore, Jake was suddenly all over you? 

He felt a sick feeling creeping up his throat as he thought about all the times Jake had taken you to the Hard Deck and acted like how he currently is now with you while Bradley was deployed. 

He assumed it had been more than once at this point, because no one seemed too fazed by the pair of you and seemed to have forgotten that it had been Bradley with you for nearly six months straight. 

He knew he didn’t have the right to be jealous, but he was. 

He hated the fact that you could’ve so easily been with him right now since you had made it clear that you were willing to wait for him because you were falling for him.

God, he had never felt this pathetic in all his years of life. He was a mere few weeks away from turning thirty five and he had shut down the one girl he could actually picture himself settling down with, and now he was drinking alone at a bar, staring at said girl as if he didn’t already have his chance with her. 

Nat had shown up at some point and tried to get him to talk to her, but he just gave her short answers and didn’t hold any conversations. She grew even more frustrated with him and ended up leaving her spot next to him so she could throw darts with Fanboy. 

Bradley had just finished off his third beer when he saw Jake lean down to press his lips to the spot behind your ear, making you laugh quietly as you as you playfully pushed him away.

Yeah, he’s seen enough. 

Bradley threw a few twenties on the bar before standing up from the stool, his body swaying at the sudden movement. He stumbled his way over to you, ignoring the flash of dread that covered your face as he wrapped his fingers around your wrist. “We need to talk,” he said sternly, keeping his eyes on you and pulling you away from Jake. 

“Why? Are you looking for another night of just fun?” You asked as you pulled your arm from his grip once you were standing on the deck outside. “That’s all it was, right?”

“That’s not all it was,” he muttered, the cool air not doing much to calm him down like he hoped it would.  

You narrow your eyes at him. “But you said-”

“I know what I said!” He cut you off, instantly regretting his inability to keep calm during a moment like this when he saw the way you flinched back slightly. He breathed out heavily, gently taking your hand in his as he continued, “I know, okay? Trust me, it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the last six weeks.”

He thought since you hadn’t pulled your hand away from his yet, that maybe you were actually willing to give him a chance to explain himself, but your next words proved him wrong, “Wow, really? Me too,” you said sarcastically. “Do you know how humiliating it was for me to explain to Jake that I had told you how I felt, just to have you throw it back at me as if you didn’t care at all? It was mortifying, Bradley, to tell you that I was falling for you and have you act as if it was the worst thing you had ever heard.”

You pulled your hand away from him and he swayed slightly at the fast movement. “I never wanted you to feel that way, Y/n/n,” he tried, but you just placed your hand flat against his chest.

“And you’re drunk,” you give him a firm push, successfully putting a decent amount of space between the two of you. “You won’t even remember this tomorrow, so why do I even bother?”

“Please, Y/n,” he begged, trying to step towards you but you just shook your head. “I missed you so much. I really, really want to talk things through with you.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” was all you muttered as you walked towards the stairs. “If Jake asks where I am, tell him I went home. I don’t need him worrying about me more than he already is.”

Bradley wanted to spit something out in spite, but held back as he watched your retreating form head off in the direction of your car. With a heavy sigh and another urge to down the first drink he saw, he headed back into the bar. 

As he made his way towards Nat, Jake stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Rooster,” he said over the music. “Where did Y/n go? Don’t tell me she’s outside waiting for you after believing whatever bullshit story you told her.”

Bradley muttered something under his breath as he turned to face the man. “She went home,” he replied, shoving Jake’s hand off his shoulder with more force than he needed to. 

“Hey, man, don’t get mad at me,” Jake said with an eye roll. “I’m the one who looked after her while you were away. I’m the one who made her smile again when she came back from dropping you off in tears.”

Bradley felt his skin heating up, not wanting to talk to the man anymore, and especially not about you. “Jake,” he warned. “Don’t.”

But Jake only laughed. “Don’t what, Rooster? What?” He asked with a certain hostility to his voice. “Do you know how it makes me feel to know I practically pushed her into your arms and had to watch as she got her heart broken? You might not be her friend, Bradshaw, but I am. And you’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here tonight and asking to speak with her.”

Taking another deep breath, Bradley tried to ignore all the eyes that were beginning to stare at him as the two aviators glared at each other. “I’m serious, Hangman, lay off,” 

You were right, he was drunk and not in the right state of mind to think rationally at this point. He needed to leave now before he did something he regretted. Before he did something that would further fuel your distaste for him.

“I don’t think I will,” Jake continued to push him. “See, you can be an dick to me all you want, but being a dick to Y/n is where I have a problem. She might want to forget it ever happened, but I won’t let you forget just how nice of a girl you let slip away. Truthfully, you never deserved her, and I’m mad at myself for introducing her to you, seeing how it worked out so well.”

“Enough,” Bradley nearly yelled, noticing that someone had stopped the music and that most of the patrons had gathered around at this point, including Nat, who gave him a look of warning. “Back off, Seresin, I mean it.”

He went to turn away, but Jake had other plans. “Or what? You gonna publicly humiliate me, too? Or is that just something you like to do to Y/n-” Bradley didn’t hear the rest as he quickly turned back around and punched Jake square in the nose. 

Jake stumbled back while Nat rushed forward to pull on Bradley’s arm. “Jesus, Bradley, are you crazy?!” She asked as she turned him to face her, but as soon as he took his eyes off Jake, the blond swung back and knocked him back a few feet.

Nat’s grip on Bradley loosened as he stumbled back, his hand reaching up to grip the side of his face as his head began to spin. 

Fanboy and Coyote held Jake back while Nat grabbed Bradley again. Penny rushed in and stood between the men with angry eyes and a bite to her tone. “Both of you, out. Now,” she said in a voice that left no room for arguments. 

Jake just glared at Bradley as he left the Hard Deck, Fanboy following quickly after him. 

Nat wrapped her arm around her best friend’s middle as she guided him out to the parking lot. “You’re wasted, Bradley,” she scolded as she led him over to her car. 

He narrowed his eyes, still holding his face with one hand while his other gripped her shoulder. “Where are we going? I didn’t park over here,” he mumbled and heard her scoff in response. 

“You didn’t think I was going to let you drive home after all this, did you?”

Bradley stopped, making her stop as well as he turned to give her an annoyed look. “I am not leaving my Bronco here overnight,” he stated and she rolled her eyes, holding out her free hand. 

“Fine,” she grunted. “Give me your keys. I’ll drive you home.”

Bradley did as he was told, placing the keys in her hand as he asked, “What about your car?”

“I’ll just crash at your place tonight and you can drive me home in the morning before work so I can change. I’ll pick up my car later,” she mumbled, pulling the passenger door open for him but leaving him to get himself in the car as she made her way to the driver’s side. 

After he hoisted himself into the car, Bradley rested his head against the window, the cool glass soothing the burn he felt on the right side of his face.

As Nat started the Bronco and set off in the direction of his house, she let the tense atmosphere grow thicker and thicker until she couldn’t hold herself back anymore. “What were you thinking? Going off on Hangman like that? You know how protective he is over her, there was no way you were winning that one,”

Bradley just shrugged, his eyes feeling heavy as he stared out the dark window. “I miss her, Nat,” he murmured. “I’m in love with her.”

Nat looked over at him in surprise. She knew he felt strongly about you, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he loved you, but to witness him finally admit it to himself was a bit shocking. “Have you told her that?” She asked, lowering her voice as she realized he was letting himself be vulnerable with her. 

“I wanted to, as soon as I got there,” he lifted his head and sat up a bit straighter, despite his body begging him to let it rest. “I was going to, but she was with Jake. She looked happy. She didn’t want to talk to me.”

Nat sighed heavily. “So make her talk to you,”

“I tried,” he rasped, his throat dry and his face sore. He made a mental note to never take the first swing at Jake Seresin ever again. “I tried to explain myself, but she just wanted to leave at that point.”

“Well, obviously,” Nat muttered, pulling onto his street. “You got drunk and couldn’t keep your eyes off her all night. She probably thought you just wanted to sleep with her again.”

When she pulled into his driveway, she turned off the car and moved so she was facing him. He looked back at her with tired eyes and a red cheek. “I want to be with her, Nat. I want us to be together,”

Her eyes stared into his for a few seconds before she sighed and pulled out the keys. “So tell her that. Sober, this time. Tell her everything, and don’t let her leave without her knowing how you really feel. I bet she still feels the same way,”

Bradley scoffed as he blindly reached for the handle. “Right,” he mumbled as he got out of the car. “I’m sure she’s still in love with the guy who walked away after she gave him her heart, and then that same guy gave her every mixed signal in return.”

Nat rolled her eyes as she got out of the car as well and helped him into the house. She led him down the hall to his room, where she pushed him down onto his covers and lifted his legs so he was laying down. “You need to tell her, Bradley,” she said quietly as she pulled his boots off and dropped them to the floor. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, alright? Everyone has. If you could just admit your feelings to one another, you could be great together.”

Bradley looked at his best friend with hooded eyes, completely vulnerable as he wore his heart on his sleeve. “What if she doesn’t want me back?” He asked in defeat, not wanting to think about the possibility that he had truly blown his one shot with you. “What if she doesn’t want me anymore?”

Nat stared down at him as she sat next to him, trying to think of what to say that would make him feel even a little bit better. “Then at least you’ll know,” she offered, watching the way his shoulders dropped in dread. “And I’ll be right here, scolding you for letting her get away, but also applauding you for not going down without a fight.”

She leaned forward and kissed the mark on his face from Jake’s fist. 

“Literally,”

Bradley huffed out a laugh as he watched her stand up and turn off the lights before disappearing down the hall towards the guest room. 

She was right, like always. 

He needed to tell you how he felt, he needed to tell you what he should’ve told you that day on the dock.

But most of all, he just needed you. 

-

Bradley was met with a bruised cheek when he was finally able to pull himself out of bed the next morning. His head was pounding and his throat was dry, making him think back to his college days where he would drink into the early hours of the morning and wake up with countless hangovers. 

He felt awful, similar to how he felt back when he was a twenty year old frat boy who had no idea what to do with his life. 

Waking up in his own bed without you felt foreign. He had gotten so used to falling asleep with you in his arms and waking up with you, he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

For what felt like the millionth time, Bradley wished his parents were here. He wanted to be able to confide in his mom, and be chewed out by his dad, then watch his mom chew out his dad for chewing him out. 

He knew that if they were still here, he wouldn’t be in this situation because both his mom and his dad would’ve called him out for stringing you along like he did, way before he even realized his true feelings for you.

Since he had fallen asleep on top of the covers, he didn’t need to worry about making the bed. He left it the way you had neatly made it up the day you drove him to the carrier ship, numbly pulling on his work clothing before grabbing his phone. Nat had thankfully put it on charge, so he had a full battery to go into work with. 

When he made his way to the kitchen, he found his best friend sitting at the island, a coffee mug in one hand and a piece of toast in the other. She gave him a quick wave as she slowly slid the second coffee mug across the counter. “Drink up, Roozie,” she said as she finished her toast, gathering up all the crumbs in her palm before brushing them off in the sink. 

Bradley grunted as he sipped on the coffee, his head still pounding. “Think I’m going to need more than one of these to get me through today,” he muttered, eyeing Nat as she wandered around his house in the clothing she wore last night. “I have some clothes you could wear, if you want.”

She shook her head. “No, thanks. Save that offer for when you win Y/n back and she raids your closet again,” she winked, making him groan quietly at the image of you wearing his clothes. “I’m not trying to rub salt in the wound, here, but when she wore your shirt at the Hard Deck the day before your deployment? I can’t believe you didn’t make things official right then and there.”

Bradley finished his coffee, setting the mug down in the crumb-littered sink as he turned to face her. “Don’t remind me,” 

She held her hands up. “Right, sorry,” she said before grabbing her phone from off the counter. “Anyway, we should get going. The sooner you’re done with work, the sooner you can work on getting your girlfriend back.”

She was testing him, but he just shook his head, not bothering to correct her as he grabbed his keys from where she threw them onto the table beside the door last night. 

At work, Bradley laid low for a while, only talking to those who talked to him, and avoiding Jake like the plague. He was doing a pretty decent job, until he ran into him in the cafeteria. 

Jake was sporting a bruised nose, and Bradley wished he could find joy in the fact that he did that, but he knew that when you saw it, you’d be even more pissed with him than you already are. 

Bradley also knew he looked worse, but that was only because he had thrown the first punch. Just another thing that was entirely his fault. 

He didn’t say anything to Jake as he walked past him and ended up leaving the cafeteria altogether, pulling his phone out on his way to the tarmac. He clicked on your contact and brought the phone up to his ear before he could talk himself out of it. 

Really, he was embarrassed about how he acted last night, but he also wanted to forget about it all and get you back. If that meant owning up to his dumb actions from the previous evening, then so be it. 

He braced himself against the side of the building by placing his palm flat against the wall, his grip on his phone tightening the longer he was met with the obnoxious ringing sound.

Just as he was about to hang up and call again, you answered with a sharp, “What?” 

Though your voice wasn’t super friendly at the moment, Bradley couldn’t help but let a feeling of hope wash over him because you had actually picked up. Sure, you took your sweet time doing it, but you still answered his call. “Hey, Y/n/n,” he said in a much softer tone than he used last night. “I can’t talk for long because I’m at work, but I just needed to say something.”

You waited a heartbeat or two before replying with a cautious, “Okay? What?” 

He huffed out a breath he didn’t know he was holding before he opened his mouth in an apology, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I was an asshole last night, and I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me. You were right, I was drunk and had no business trying to get you to talk with me when I was like that,” he said in one go, stumbling over a few of his words, but continuing nonetheless, “And I’m sorry for what I said to you back on the dock. I didn’t realize it then, but you told me everything I wanted to hear, I just didn’t know how to deal with it.”

It was silent on your end for a bit, and he could picture you chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to think of what to say to him. A few more seconds pass before you finally break the silence. “Well, thanks for apologizing,” your voice was much quieter than before, and you sounded much more willing to actually talk to him. 

And he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to keep you talking to him. “Like I said, I’m at work…but I really want to see you later, explain why I said what I did and how much of a fucking idiot I’ve been, if you’ll let me,” he nearly whispered the last part. “Come over later? Please? I promise, it’s not just me wanting to have fun with you, because that was never all it was for me. I can’t believe I even said that.”

You sighed and he prepared himself for the rejection he knew he deserved, but you surprised him as you asked, “Six, right? That’s when you’re off?”

Bradley pushed himself off the wall and looked around at the empty tarmac before answering, “Yeah, yes,” he quickly spoke. “Six.”

“Okay,” you murmured, your next words making a grin break out on his face. “I’ll be there for seven, maybe seven thirty if I begin to have second thoughts.”

And then you hung up, and Bradley was left standing by himself, smiling like he had just won the lottery, when in reality, he had just won something so much better. 

-

After quickly dropping Nat off at the Hard Deck so she could get her car, Bradley was speeding home in a way that was similar to when he floored it when you informed him you’d see him there yesterday. 

He quickly unlocked the door and stripped on his way to his bathroom for a shower, not wanting the way he had started to sweat after you confirmed that you’d come over later be the first thing you were met with when you arrived. 

He switched his shirt probably around four times before settling on a simple black tee and dark jeans. He paced the length of his living room for nearly twenty minutes before stopping abruptly and pulling out his phone to check the time. 

It was nearing seventy thirty, and Bradley began to think you really were having second thoughts, but he wasn’t able to dwell on it for long before he heard the sounds of knocking coming from his front door. 

He pocketed his phone and made his way to the door within three strides, pulling it open to reveal you in a cute oversized tee that was tucked into your jean shorts. It was similar to the way you looked when he took you to the Hard Deck, and while he knew you thought it was just a casual outfit, Bradley thought you never looked better. 

But then again, he found you hot in any kind of clothing, so he was a bit biased. 

“Hi,” he said when he opened the door, trying not to let his eyes wander too much. 

“Hi,” you said back, hesitantly meeting his eye with a forced smile that faltered when you caught sight of the bruise on his cheek. If you wanted to say anything about it, you held back and he could appreciate your ability to bite your tongue when you needed to. “Sorry, I really didn’t know if I was coming tonight.” You add when he stepped aside and allowed you to enter his house. 

He closed the door behind you, following you into the living room as he shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m glad you’re here,”

You slowly sat down on the couch, awkwardly gazing up at him as if you had no business being there. As if he hadn’t fucked you into the very cushions you were sat on more times than he could count on one hand. As if he hadn’t blown off plans with his friends so he could hold you on this couch while you watched movie after movie instead. 

You bit your lip as you thought of what to say, and Bradley had to look away quickly before you really began to think he just wanted you here so you could get him off. “So….how was your day?”

Had things really become that bad? To the point where that was the only thing you could think of asking him?

“It was fine,” he answered as he moved to sit down next to you, leaving a few inches of space between your thigh and his. You didn’t look uncomfortable yet, so he safely assumed you had no problem with him slightly invading your personal space. “How was yours?”

Oh, yeah. This was bad.

“It was fine,” you repeated his answer, and you quickly realized that as you added, “Yeah, it was good.”

“Good,” someone kill him now. This was not how he wanted to start this night off with you. 

Before he could mentally call himself out on how dumb he was acting, you asked him, “Can I ask what happened to your face?” Your tone held a sliver of humor, a teasing smile on your lips that quickly had the awkward tension begin to dissolve. 

He laughed and scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, it happened last night,”

You nodded, raising a brow when he didn’t continue. “What, did you run face first into a door or something?”

“No, Jake punched me,” he said and watched the way your small grin dropped and how your eyes widened. You open your mouth in concern, but he quickly added, “After I punched him.” 

Your concerned expression drops even quicker as you break eye contact with him and run your tongue along the underside of your teeth. “Uh,” you refrain from completely losing your cool before you heard what exactly went down. “Why, exactly, did you punch him?”

When you didn’t turn to look at him again, Bradley shrugged. “Because you came with him and not me,” 

That had you turning to look over at him. “What?” You asked in disbelief. “Seriously? You were jealous?”

He sat up a bit straighter as he began to feel like he was being interrogated. “Yeah, I was,” he answered, cutting you off before you could even say anything, “He kept making very valid points to me about how I fucked things up and how I never deserved you in the first place, and he was making too much sense so I punched him.” 

You squinted at him but then suddenly laughed when you realized he was being serious. “Oh, my God, Bradley,” you scolded. “You can’t just go around punching people because they were making too much sense, especially Jake.”

“I was drunk,” he weakly defended himself, but sighed right alongside you when you gave him an unimpressed look. “I know that’s not an excuse.” 

“You’re right,” you agreed, fighting back a dumb grin at the fact that you had actually managed to make him jealous without even trying to. “It’s not.”

Bradley shook his head as he, too, fought off an embarrassed smile. “I was just so unbelievably jealous when I walked in and saw you under his arm, because I knew that could’ve been me had I not turned you down,”

You look away quickly as the memory of that day comes spiraling back. “So…why did you?” You asked quietly as you placed with the silver ring you wore on your right index finger. “Turn me down? Was it really because I’m too young for you? Because I read too much into things?”

“No,” he quickly answered, turning his body towards yours. “God, no, that wasn’t it at all. I was just…an idiot, to put it simply. I was too afraid to give in and admit to myself that I felt the exact same way that you did.”

“But why?” You asked and lifted your gaze to meet his. “Why were you afraid? It’s just me.”

“I know,” he held back on referring to you with one of the many pet names he had given you during the last six months. “And it wasn’t you, I promise. This is all on me and my stupid trust issues and my inability to realize just how good I had it until it was gone…until you were gone.”

You press your lips into a thin line as you process his words. “You could’ve just told me that, instead of making me feel like I was just one big mistake to you,” 

Bradley felt his heart crack at that, a heat pooling in his bones as he realized just how much his words truly affected you. “You are not a mistake,” he said, sounding more serious than he had ever sounded before. “You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me, and Jake was right, I never deserved to have you in the way I did.”

“Bradley-”

“No, it’s true. We were so fucking good together, and it felt so right with you, and all it took for me to fuck it up was you admiting what we both already knew; that it was so much more than just us hooking up,” he was surprised how easy it was for him to open up to you, seeing as the only other person he could be vulnerable with was Nat, but he knew you wouldn’t make him feel bad for showing you this side of him. “There was something there between us, and there still is for me, and I’m so sorry I let you believe that there wasn’t.”

Your eyes flickered all over his face and you thought back to how differently he looked at you six weeks ago. Back then he looked so cold and came off as arrogant, but now he looked genuine, like he truly meant every word he told you. Maybe that was why you felt yourself beginning to break down the walls you had put up the second he had broken your heart. “So, what do you feel between us now? How do you feel about me?”

When Bradley met your eyes, he saw that same vulnerability you had when you confessed your feelings for him. You were giving him the second chance he had wanted for weeks now, and he would not let you get away again. 

He took your hand in his as his knee brushed yours. “I feel that, given the chance to prove myself to you, we could be just as good together as we were before. No, we could be even better,” he emphasized the last word and watched as the last bit of reluctance faded from your eyes. “And as for how I feel about you? I don’t think I’m falling for you.”

When he felt your grip on his hand loosen, and saw the way your eyes pricked with unshed tears, he quickly moved closer to you. 

“I know I’m in love with you,” he added, “And I have been for half a year now.”

A second or two passes before a big grin spreads across your face, and you reach up with your free hand to grip the side of his face, letting your thumb brush against his scars. “You’re in love with me?” You asked, desperate to know he wasn’t just messing with you in hopes to get you back to how things were before. “You’re really in love with me?”

Bradley just nodded, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand as he said the thing he should’ve a month and a half ago, “I love you,” 

You smile again and refrain from jumping on him right then and there. 

“And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” he adds, looking down at your joined hands and missing the way your brows furrowed in disbelief. “I can wait, I just needed to tell you that-”

You cut him off by leaning forward and pressing your lips to his in a kiss that leaves you both feeling dizzy. “Are you kidding me?” You against his mouth, removing your hand from his in order to grip the back of his neck. “Of course I love you. I have for months.”

Bradley was barely able to grin back at you before your mouth was covering his once again, and his hands were gripping your waist and pulling you onto his lap. “I missed you so much,” he murmured in between kisses. “I regretted what I said the second I saw you crying and I was too far away to do anything about it. It felt like I had left my heart back on that dock with you.”

You push him so he’s sitting back against the couch, your knees pressing into the cushions on either side of him as you straddle his lap. “So,” you pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, laughing afterwards when he quickly guided you into another one as you pulled away. “You don’t think I’m too young and immature for you?” 

Bradley closed his eyes when he felt your lips latch onto his neck, groaning as you began to suck a mark onto his skin. “Fuck no,” he answered, slipping his hands into the back pockets of your shorts and pulling your hips forward to create the smallest bit of friction. “You’re more mature than most of the people I work with.”

You hum in approval, running your tongue over the fresh mark he would proudly wear at work tomorrow. “And you’re okay with us being in two different places in our lives?”

“I don’t care where we are,” he confirmed, guiding your lips back to his in a bruising kiss. “Just as long as I’m with you.”

“Good answer,” you kiss him again as your fingers begin to work on the zipper of his jeans. 

“Wait,” he reluctantly pulls away from your mouth, his hold on your hips making you halt your mission on his zipper. 

“What’s wrong?” You quickly ask, worried you’d overstepped a boundary without realizing it.

But Bradley just playfully scoffed at you, lifting you up and turning so you were laying against the couch and he was hovering over you. He unbuttoned your shorts and pulled them down your legs, a deep groan leaving the back of his throat when he caught sight of the black lace that covered your core from him. “You just told me you love me and gave me a second chance,” he stated as he pressed an open mouth kiss to your inner thigh. “Nothing could be wrong after that.”

You stifle a quiet laugh, a moan slipping out instead when he placed a kiss to your clothed clit.

His fingers pulled down the lace and dropped the fabric to the floor next to your shorts as he muttered, “It’s been way too long since I tasted you,” before he began to devour you like a starved man. 

He supposed he was as he missed the sweet taste that only belonged to you so much. 

Your head leaned back against the decorative pillow on the armrest of the couch, your hand instinctively going straight to his hair. Bradley groaned against you at the subtle tug he received, growing harder in his jeans as he pulled your legs so they’re resting over his shoulders. 

The vibration had you clenching around nothing, a low whine escaping your parted lips. “Bradley,” you gasped quietly when he nudged your folds apart with his nose before licking a flat strip up the center of you. 

“Say my name again,” he softly demanded, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you even closer to his awaiting tongue. “Who’s making you feel good right now?”

“You,” it came out as a breath when he wrapped his lips around your clit, and you clenched tightly around nothing. “It’s you, Bradley. Fuck.”

“That’s right, baby,” he praised and the name had your eyes squeezing shut. “You’re so good for me, taste so fucking good.” 

Butterflies erupted in your body at his sweet but absolutely filthy words. “Bradley,” you nearly whispered, tugging a bit harder on his hair as you knew it would drive him crazy. “I missed you.”

Like you expected he would, a deep growl once again sent vibrations up your body and once again had you clenching around nothing. “I missed you, too, sweet girl, fuck, did I ever,” he muttered against your throbbing clit, the soft graze of his teeth making your breath hitch in your throat. “I missed you for six weeks straight, missed you when I got home and saw that you had taken out all your things you had in here. I want you to put it all back and never take them out again.”

You whimpered at his words and the possessiveness that laced them. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were asking me to move in with you,” you tried to make your voice sound teasing, but you were completely at his mercy right now and not even close to being in control.   

“Good idea,” he replied and your heart skipped a beat at what he was insinuating. You didn’t have time to dwell on what he meant by that before he was continuing, “Move in with me, please?”

Bradley knew he was moving too fast, but he felt as if he had already wasted so much time being away from you the last six weeks, he didn’t want to waste anymore. He needed you in his life, wanted to pick up on your habits and come home to a house full of yours and his things. 

He wanted to share his life with you in all the ways he didn’t before. He wouldn’t fuck this up again, and he wanted you to know just how serious he is about you and how serious he is about starting an official relationship with you.

You could hardly focus on what he was asking you to do. His tongue had slid back down your folds and penetrated you just slightly, your wetness coating the muscle as he lapped at you. 

He knew it wasn’t fair to ask you that while he was currently tongue fucking you, but in all fairness, you were the one who technically brought it up. “Please,” he begged against your heat. “Say you’ll move in with me, spend every night with me in our own bed, in our own house.”

His offer only sounded better and better, almost as good as his mouth felt against your throbbing clit. “Bradley,” 

“We’d be together everyday,” he rasped and you practically came from just his promises. When his mouth was back on you a second later, he grinned at the extra wetness he felt and took pride in the way he got you off at the idea of moving in together. He licked you clean before moving back up your body and hovering over you. “It could be like this every night.”

You moan quietly when he presses a soft kiss to your mouth. 

He ended it all too quickly as he slowly licked his lips that still tasted like you before asking, “So, what do you say?”

“Yes,” you were finally able to properly answer him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him closer to you. “Yes, I’ll move in with you.”

You share a couple more heated kisses before you pull away and gaze up at him with an unreadable emotion swimming in your eyes. Bradley caught on to the sudden change, and he reached his hand up to caress the side of your face. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking your head, you huff quietly and gently bump your nose against his. “Nothing,” you answer. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…This is all I’ve ever wanted for months. It’s hard to believe it’s actually happening.”

Bradley physically felt his heart skip a beat as he thought about all the pain he had put you through, and not even as recent as six weeks ago. He had unknowingly strung you along, played with your heart and allowed you to think this whole thing was purely sexual. 

He needed to assure you that this is real, that his feelings for you are real and genuine. “Baby,” he murmured, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he slowly ground his hips against yours, the cool metal of his zipper rubbing against your pulsing core making you see stars behind your closed eyelids. “It’s happening. You and me, us. I love you and I’m so sorry for fucking things up so badly between us.”

You tug at the fabric of his shirt and give him a small smile, brushing your lips against his. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “We have each other now, right?”

“Right,” he confirmed and that was all you needed to hear before your shaking hands were pulling the black fabric off his upper body. 

The sight of his toned chest and abs on full display had you holding back a moan, your lip getting caught between your teeth as your eyes raked over his damn near flawless body. 

Bradley’s hand that was on your face moved so his thumb was slipping past your lips, and he watched with a slack jaw as you sucked it in deeper, your tongue running along the underside of it. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he really didn’t understand how a guy like him ended up with a girl like you, but he was done questioning it as you clearly felt the exact same way about him. You love him, and that’s all he needed to know.

“I think you’re talking about yourself,” you say as you press your lips to the skin of his neck. “You’re so attractive, Bradley, you could get me off with just a look.” Then you were sucking his skin, similar to the way you were sucking his thumb just a few seconds earlier. 

He grunted at the stinging sensation of the hickey you left on his neck, right next to the other one from earlier in the night. “That’s it, sweet girl,” he praised as he lifted your shirt over your head, your bra being pulled from your body quickly after. “Mark me up, show everyone that I belong to you.”

You gasp out in need, pulling his mouth back to yours as your hands frantically push down his jeans and boxer briefs. “Mine,” you whimper against his lips, feeling him hum in confirmation. 

“Yours, baby,” he replied, wrapping your legs around his waist as he teased your soaking entrance. “All yours.”

Then he was pushing into you. Your walls stretched around him and took him in perfectly, making his head fall against your shoulder as he got used to the feeling of you around him again after so long. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling out only halfway before burying himself deep within you once again. “God, baby, you feel so good.”

His words release more butterflies all over your body and you clench around him, your greedy walls sucking him in even deeper. “Go slow,” you request in a quiet voice, making him lift his head to meet your eyes. 

Really, he was fine with fucking you into the cushion with enough force to break the springs, and he was also fine with loving your body with his own. “You want me to go slow?” He asked as he pulled out all the way then sunk right back in. “Fuck you nice and slow, like this?”

When he repeated the movement a couple times, you nod quickly and reach your hands up so they’re in his hair. “Yeah,” you breathe out, connecting your lips in a barely-there kiss before saying, “Just like that. I want to feel every inch of you in me.”

Bradley’s hips stuttered at that, breaking the slow pace for a quick second as he placed his forearm against the cushion next to your head. “Fuck, baby, you can’t say things like that and expect me to not fuck you hard into this couch.” 

You laughed quietly, and the sound only spurred him on as he set the slow pace once again. “You need to gain some self control, Bradley,” you purred into his ear and he was once again refraining from absolutely destroying your core. 

“I can’t,” he said as he began to place kisses all over your collarbones and shoulders. “Not when I have you wrapped around me, not when you’re taking me so well. Fuck, look at you.”

You give him a teasing smile that fades quickly when he sucks the skin of your throat. After half a year with him, you’ve noticed he seems to have a favorite spot on your neck where he likes to kiss you and leave physical proof of his mouth being there. 

The last time you felt his lips on that spot was when he got you off so good before taking you to the Hard Deck, where you showed off the hickey he left on you. 

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he muttered, mostly to himself as he gazed down at your saliva coated skin. “After everything, after I fucked things up, you’re still mine.”

You hum, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing him closer to you, making him reach even deeper within you. “I always was yours,” you confessed and felt the way his grip tightened on you. 

“But,” he grunted as his hips rocked into yours in a slow rhythm, that sick feeling of jealousy creeping back into him, despite him being very aware of his current position of being buried within you. “You were with Jake last night-”

“But my heart was always with you,” you cut him off and noticed the way he seemed to relax at your words. “My heart was still yours, even after you broke it.” You give him a teasing grin in hopes he wouldn’t take it too hard, but this was Bradley, and he was a pretty emotional guy when it came down to certain things.

While you had given him all the reassurance he needed, he was still feeling so awful for how he treated you, and he wanted to make it up to you. He wanted you to forget about it, forget that dumb side of him who didn’t understand what he was saying. 

“I’m not going to do that ever again,” he promised, jerking his hips a bit roughly but not picking up the pace. “I’m going to treat you so well, be so good to you all the time. You’re going to grow so fucking sick of me, I swear.”

You would’ve laughed, but the sharp snaps of his thrusts had you getting lost in the feeling of him. “‘S all I’ve wanted,” you whimpered when he reached one hand down to rub circles on your still sensitive clit. 

It throbbed against the pad of his middle finger in time with the way your walls pulsed around him. He was driving into you so slowly, you felt every single inch of him as he invaded your warm and inviting core. 

You were so used to the rough, fast paced sex with him in the past, but this was different. Back then, he was just trying to get you off in the ways he knew you liked, and desperately tried to ignore the unspoken words between the two of you.

He tried to fuck away his true feelings for you, hoping that the way his heart would flip at your sweet sounds and how his whole body fit so perfectly against your own was just him getting caught up in the moment. 

He was so glad he was wrong and finally allowed himself to face reality. 

“You’re all I want, too,” he struggled to say as you clenched tightly around him. “I don’t know why I even bothered trying to deny it…fuck, you’re so tight.”

You smirk to yourself at his struggle to keep control of the slow drag of his hips. “Only for you,” you fed into his possessiveness over you, and raked your nails down his back.

“Fuck,” he hissed at the sting, the light scratches on his skin feeling better than he ever thought was possible. “Thank you for giving me a second chance, sweet girl. I won’t fuck this up again.”

You press your lips to his as you feel the coil in your abdomen begin to unravel. “‘M gonna come again,” you informed him against his mouth, fueling him to pick the pace up just slightly as he continued with his sharp thrusts. 

“I want you to so badly,” a deep grunt left his lip as he felt the beginning of your orgasm start to coat him. “Just like that, baby. Come for me, I want to feel it all over me. I want it to be messy.”

Your mouth breaks away from his in order for you to be able to let out a loud moan, followed by a call of his name as your release surged through you. With a gentle hand pressed to his face, your thumb brushing against the bruise he received last night, you came hard around him.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” he rasped next to your ear, using your willing core to get himself there, as well. “You look so fucking hot when you come for me.”

Whimpering at the sensitivity, you push him closer with your heel against his back. “Wanna feel you, too,” you mumbled, helplessly taking each thrust he gave as you wouldn’t be fully satisfied until he, too, got off. “I want it in me.”

Bradley’s jaw locked at that, his neck straining as he gave two more quick thrusts before stilling. You were rewarded with a deep, throaty groan as he spilled his seed into you, and you took every single drop.

Your walls, seemingly desperate to feel him breed them once again, gripped him tightly when he lazily started to rock his hips into yours again. The both of you were far too sensitive to go for round two right now, so he was just riding your highs for as long as he could. 

You gently massaged his scalp, his head undoubtedly sore from your relentless tugs on his hair. Bradley was actually excited to deal with the brief headache that would come from it. He was even more excited to see the scratches on his back tomorrow morning, and he was excited to take you to the Hard Deck on Friday night and officially make it known to everyone there that you are his and he is yours. 

Granted, most of the people there already assumed that, but it would still feel great to finally go public with you. 

Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and got into a more comfortable position with you on the couch. He placed a few kisses to the top of your head as you basked in the afterglow, finally feeling truly happy for the first time in over a month. “I love you,” he had somehow managed to win you back, and he would make damn sure he keeps his promise of never breaking your heart again. “Every single part of you.”

You lean up and press a kiss to the mark on his cheek, making a mental note to give Jake a hard time about using his fists instead of walking away. You were still grateful that he was so protective over you, though, so you wouldn’t be too serious about it. “I love you, too, Bradley,” you say back. “I always have.”

-

@everythingmarveltopgun

@shara-ne

@iheqrtaustin

@amiets2

@magical-spit

[spacecaravan]

Short Stack

pairing: rooster x reader word count: 4.8k 🥞☕🥓

"You're driving me crazy over here, honey," Bradley said with a pout from his spot in your kitchen, whining as he stared at you, your back to his front as you stood at your spot in front of the gas stove. 

It was a picturesque Sunday morning, the air was warm and sweet-smelling as the wind floated in from the open window, dainty linen curtains blowing enchanting shapes in the breeze. You had asked Bradley if he wanted to eat breakfast outside today since, as you had put it, it would be such a waste if we didn't. 

"Hm?" you hummed in response, resting your cheek on your shoulder as you craned your neck to glance over at the pilot, your hands busy tending to pancakes sizzling away on the stovetop "what'd you say, baby?" finding it a little hard to hear him over the speaker you had playing next to you on the countertop.

"You expect me to just sit over here while you're over there looking like that?" he questioned in an incredulous tone, his legs were wide open, palms splayed over his bare thighs while he watched you, his pajama shorts riding high on the tan skin underneath. 

You raised your eyebrows, eyes glinting curiously in his direction before you bent over at the waist to check the bacon crisping up in the oven. Old sweatshirt riding up just enough to drive Bradley wild as you batted your lashes at him, stoking the flames you loved to be warmed by.

"What's that, Bradley?" you said, dimples threatening to break through the coy smile you were trying to hide, "don't you want me to take care of you like I promised?" you teased, reminding Bradley of the moments that had transpired not too long before he was sat sipping coffee in one of his favorite places in the world, your kitchen on a lazy Sunday morning.

"Sleepy girl," 

His favorite way to wake you up on Sundays was to whisper in your ear as he snuck his hand up the front of whatever soft top you happened to fall asleep in. Warm hand reaching for your breasts, but wanting you to be awake before he teased you so he could listen to you react.

"Good morning, baby," he rasped in your ear, his eager fingers ghosting over your bare nipples after he felt you stir, relishing in the pleased little sound you made in the back of your throat in response to his touch, nipples pebbling immediately under the tips of his fingers.  

The night before you promised him you'd wake up early and make him a nice breakfast: fluffy buttermilk pancakes, perfectly cooked bacon, coffee the way he likes it — the works — he deserved it, you'd said. 

You spent that night cooing in his ear about how he worked so hard on base, pressing wet kisses across his bare chest as you praised him, moaning desperately into the air as he pressed his thumb softly on your clit as you rode him—couldn't stop telling him how desperately you wanted to make him feel good.  

"You deserve to feel so fucking good all the time, Bradley Bradshaw," you said, your skin hot and flushed as you fell apart on top of him, "and I'm going to make sure you do. I'm going to treat you so, so good, baby." you moaned into his ear before you felt him filling you up in your favorite way. 

So blinking your eyes open, to see your bedroom bathed in the hazy morning glow while Bradley's hard cock pressed firmly against your ass, was not what you needed to have the productive morning you'd promised. 

"Bradley," you forced out in your rough morning tone, a warning, at least that's how you intended it to sound. 

"Mhm?" Rooster grumbled from behind you, pulling you tighter to his sleep-warmed body as he pushed his wet lips and scratchy mustache into your soft neck. "love hearing you say my name," he mumbled, "lemme hear it again, sweet girl," a tiny kiss pressed into the back of your hairline, "y'smell so good by the way, always do." he said, his tone laced with affection as he inhaled your scent, pressing tender kisses to the sensitive skin of your throat.

"Bradley," you repeated, placing your hand on top of the one he had resting on your hip, managing to flip yourself so that you were facing him, staring directly into his eyes. "good morning." 

You kissed him softly on the lips before taking both of his hands between your bodies and pressing them above your breast, inhaling deeply and letting him feel your heartbeat. Rooster was strong, there was no denying it. But, for all that strength, Bradley was also putty in your hands, made utterly helpless at the site of your eyes on his. His body went completely pliant the moment you locked eyes with him and put your hands anywhere on his body. 

"G'morning," he sighed, losing his train of thought in the way the sunlight made your skin glow. Bradley pressed a soft kiss onto your nose as he breathed you in, his chest pressing against your joined hands as he moved closer, tangling your feet beneath the soft blankets. 

"Remember what I promised?" you reminded him, taking in his dreamy expression, keenly aware of how shallow his breaths were as he gazed at you, "I gotta start cooking, honey. Wanna treat you to this."

His mouth parts, tongue coming out to wet his lips as he watches you speak. Leans in closer to listen to you whisper sweetly about how you wanted to take care of him. 

"Or," he started, mustache quirking slightly as a smirk took over his features, "you stay here," he paused for a moment, his larger hands overlapping yours to bring your knuckles up to his warm lips, "and you let me take care of you — let me make you feel good."

Hearing him say that made your heart pound, made your entire body tingle all over and tempted you to no end. But you wanted, no needed, to do this for Bradley. You had been planning this ever since the last time you cooked for him and he wouldn't shut up about how he loved watching you in the kitchen.

Went on and on about how he was ready to be a stay-at-home anything if it meant getting to watch you act out all the fantasies he held deep inside, close to his heart. Fantasies of domestic bliss, of a life with someone who cares for you, who adores you, and in return, someone to make it all worth giving a shit about. 

And as much as you loved taking care of Bradley, you could never get enough of the way he would playfully nudge you away from the sink the moment he saw you starting to wash up after a meal. He always wanted to help, wanted to be involved, wanted to fill you up with the same type of affection you poured into him. 

"Excuse me miss," he would start, his hip bumping yours as he came to stand at the sink, "what do you think you're doing over here?" his smile was always infectious at this point, his large hands coming in to pluck the sponge straight from your wet fingers, "go relax, go get comfy. I'll do the rest." and with that final word, he would kiss you into total submission and send you on your way with a tap to your bottom.

"Later," you whispered, "stay in bed. I'll bring you coffee in a bit," 

You freed your hands from his grip and gently brushed your fingers over his cheekbone. He immediately leaned into your soft touch, allowing you to rise easily, his lips forming a pout as he watched you move to exit the bedroom. 

"You're torturing me," he said, propping himself up on his palm, elbow digging into the mattress as he shifted, his other palm coming out to reach for you in a desperate final attempt to get you back under the warm sheets.

You couldn't help the grin that blossomed on your face as you basked in Bradley's warm gaze. 

"Lucky for you," you started, cheek pressed to the door frame as you watched him, "you're trained to handle tough situations like this. Aren't you, Lieutenant Bradshaw?" you slipped out before he could give you a response. 

Walking down the hall you heard him groan and flop back down onto the mattress, could clearly picture him running his hands over his face and through his sleep-mussed hair as he shook his head with a smile. 

And that's how you ended up here, sunshine coming softly through your kitchen window while Bradley sat wide-legged at your breakfast nook. His large body settled into the cushion you and your friends had DIY'd one Friday evening, after two bottles of chilled red wine sat happily in your stomachs and shared laughter lit up the room. It's how you ended up with Bradley practically white-knuckling his mug as he watches you cook and fawn over him, sweetly asking him, "Can I top off your coffee, baby?" while you stroke the back of his neck, backing away before he can get his hands on you. 

"Honey," Bradley had moved from his spot, taking a few short strides to stand behind you at the stove. His hands coming to rest on your hips as he drags you back to him, "I can't sit there anymore." 

"No?" you question, your gaze on the cast iron skillet on the burner, the final pancake was cooking away on its shiny black surface as you feigned nonchalance. "What's got you so worked up, Bradshaw?"

Once he heard his last name leave your mouth he knew you were teasing him, and god was he ready to tease you right back. 

"I don't know," he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, "maybe just a pretty little thing making me breakfast," another kiss below your ear, "my girl taking such good care of me," 

Bradley moves his right hand to take the spatula out of your grip, meeting no resistance as you melt into the heat radiating from his naked chest, getting lost in the words coming out of his mouth as you lean into his onslaught of kisses.

"I'll tell you what's got me worked up, baby." 

You feel him inhale deeply behind you, the music playing from the speaker filling up the otherwise quiet room as he deftly flips the pancake on the pan, somehow knowing it was the perfect time to turn it as its golden brown surface shows itself. Soon after his perfect pancake has been flipped, he places the tool down, and using his now free right hand, turns off the stove and the oven, signaling the end of that—kitchen closed. 

Every nerve in your body was lighting up now. You could feel the excitement building in your marrow as he stood calmly behind you. 

"Turn around, and I'll tell you," he whispers in your ear, "lemme see your pretty eyes."

There was no other option but to listen, no choice but to turn around and stare into his lust-filled eyes. 

"So, what is it, Bradshaw?" you practically sigh, turning to him as you try to calm your breathing, willing yourself to fill your lungs slowly before he pushes you over the edge with just his words. 

"It's you," his voice still low as his as he reaches his hand up to brush over your lips. The pad of his thumb swipes back and forth gently over your pouted bottom lip, "it's you in this fucking kitchen looking like a dream. It's you saying my name while you pour me coffee," he pauses briefly, "it's that I know you slept in my sweatshirt last night to drive me fucking crazy this morning." 

"Am I in trouble, Lieutenant Bradshaw?" you say coolly despite the blazing inferno ripping through your entire being, despite his finger still resting on the plush of your lip.

Bradley doesn't answer, simply pushes his thumb past your lips and onto your waiting tongue. He loves the way he can make you mush under his touch. But you never let him have the upper hand for long. He groans and squeezes his eyes shut as you gaze up at him, sucking harshly on the digit and wetting it with your eager tongue. He pulls the finger out of your mouth, hand moving to grip your cheeks in a manner that made your panties flood with wetness. Bradley was practically panting — trying so hard to keep his cool, trying so hard not to spin you around right here and fuck you against the oven.

“Breakfast is gonna have to wait, pretty girl,” he declares, “should have never let you get out of bed this morning.”

After that it's a blur of warm hands grasping for bare skin, a symphony of moaning into open-mouthed kisses and when Bradley moves his hands down your thighs, pulling in a signal you've come to know well, you jump. His capable hands immediately come to your ass as you wrap your legs around his middle. You're nose to nose with him as he walks you back to the bedroom.

"I've got you, baby," he whispers, "gonna make you feel so good."

He's dropping you onto the bed before you know it, towering his body over yours to kiss every inch of skin he can touch. He's pushing up your (his) sweatshirt to reveal the soft skin hidden underneath, stopping to bite and lick your exposed breasts, taking extra care of each nipple as he nips and pinches. 

Rooster tosses away the article of clothing, leaving you lying in the morning light in just your underwear. He takes a single step back, leaving you panting on the bed as you stare up at him. He's obviously hard, his pajama shorts tented and hands flexing at his sides as he looks down at the way your almost naked body is being illuminated by the golden light. 

"You look too fucking good," he whispers mostly to himself, "god damn." 

He drops to his knees in front of you, hands coming to wrap underneath your knees as he drags you to the end of the bed, bringing your covered cunt to his waiting mouth. Rooster immediately presses his nose and lips onto the sodden fabric of your panties, his tongue coming out to taste the wetness soaking the cotton. You could come just from this, just from Bradley Bradshaw breathing into your pussy while he presses his perfect nose against your puffy clit. 

"Want me to taste you, honey?" he whispers into your cunt, and you feel like you're burning alive, "cause I wanna taste you real fuckin' bad."

He pulls away from you again, and it really isn't fair that he looks like that right now. His skin is radiant and ethereal, he smells divine and he's looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. Before you even have a chance to answer, Rooster is gripping the fabric on your underwear tightly, increasing the friction on your clit. A little tease. Maybe a little mean—or even a little needy. 

"Talk to me, baby," he says, fingers still pulling the fabric taut against your dripping center. 

"Please, Bradley," you whisper desperately, chest heaving as you look down at him. "Need you," you add, yes because you mean it, but also because you know he loves to hear it.  

With that, he is swiftly pulling the soaked panties down your legs, flinging them somewhere to be found later while the two of you laugh and make the bed together.

His palms come back to separate your thighs and you could die. You feel like you're about to plunge into icy cold water—the shock of adrenaline as your body adjusts to the frigid temperature. Warmth overtakes every cell in your body, as you gaze down at him. Bradley is staring directly into your wet pussy with a lust-filled glaze in his pretty eyes. With every inhale and exhale you feel more obscene, more spread open.

"So wet," he observes, his voice deep and gruff "you showin' off for me? Gettin' nice and wet just for me, baby?"

He runs his thumb up and down your slit, taking one pass to tease at your aching clit. His thumb is bringing you a pleasure that is making your back arch off the mattress, it feels like he is taking you apart piece by piece. His face is still so close to your pussy you can feel his breath fanning over you. His warm breath is a sharp contrast to the wetness of your weeping hole. 

"Oh, honey," he coos, as he dips his middle finger into your soaked cunt, "bet you were wet this morning too, huh? But my good girl wanted to treat me to a picture-perfect Sunday, didn't she?"

He wants you to answer, you know this.

"Want you so bad, Bradley," you whimper into your palm, having pressed the side of it between your teeth to keep from yelling out, "want you always. Wanna take care of you all the time."

When his mouth finally comes down, it makes you weep, makes you cry out in a tone you've never heard leave your body. His supple mouth and tongue are bringing you so much comfort as they simultaneously send all-encompassing shockwaves of pleasure through you. 

You’re bucking into his mouth, unashamed in your want for him, unabashed in the way you spread your wetness over his gorgeous face. You bring your hands away from your fluttering chest and gasping mouth to pull his hair, hard. He moans loudly when you do, making your tummy do backflips as he feasts on your cunt. Breakfast be damned. 

"My perfect girl," he whispers against your clit, "tastes so good. Such a sweet pussy."

You groan at his words, reveling in his praise and storing it away to replay at a later time. No one has ever made you feel the way Rooster does, no one has ever been able to make you completely unravel in the way he can. 

"Need you, baby," you whine from your spot on the bed, "need to feel you inside me, please. Please, Bradley."

He pulls back enough for you to see his face—lips shining, mustache obscenely wet and it makes you dizzy just to look at him like this. His hands are still gripping your thighs, his touch burning the area his palms are claiming. 

"Can't wait for me to finish?" he taunts, mocking you as he smiles into your wet cunt.

That's when you move to sit up, propping yourself up on your elbows to get better leverage. Wordlessly you slip back away from him, sliding back on the soft sheets to rest your back flat against the headboard. Creating enough distance between the two of you to keep him out of arms reach, the only touch he could lay on you now is a soft graze to your ankle with his fingertips. 

"Come here, Rooster," you say, your sultry tone sounds unfamiliar to you, coated in want and lust, "come and take your pussy, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

A beat passes. You hear him curse under his breath. He's so solid when he comes to stand at the end of the bed. Doesn't take his eyes off yours as he rids himself of his soft shorts. Doesn't make a sound as he palms his erection, stroking the length once, twice, three times before he descends upon you. Once again he's flexing that Navy-earned strength of his to drag your body flush against the mattress. His arms coming to frame your head as he brings his mouth down onto yours, soft and kind, kissing you so sweetly as he leaves the taste of you behind on your tongue. 

"You're gonna be the death of me, baby." he moans into your mouth.

"What a way to go," is all you say before you reach down to rub his cock up and down your wet slit, taking extra care to rub his sensitive tip over your clit driving you both wild in the process. 

He's gripping your wrist tight, halting your movement on his length. His eyes are half-open as they peer into yours, his bottom lip lodged in between his perfect teeth as he places your hand back on the soft sheets below you. 

His plunging inside you so suddenly it pushes all the air out of your lungs. His breath hitches as he settles into the deepest, warmest parts of you—his hands coming up to keep your supple thighs snug around his waist as pleasure rocks through your core. Sometimes he moves so fast you can't keep up, can't keep up with the pillow being shoved under your ass as Bradley strokes deep inside of you. 

“Oh, honey,” he moans, “god that pussy is perfect.” 

Your skin sizzles at his praise, pleasure is working itself down to the very tips of your toes, making you shiver. You're gasping for breath as he pushes himself impossibly deeper inside of you, eyes falling shut as you chase the pleasure he is eliciting from you. Your pussy is clenching around him, he feels so thick and perfect inside you it makes you want to cry. Your hands are gripping the sheets so hard your fingers are cramping. 

"Look at me, pretty baby," he whispers, "let me see my girl."

Your eyes snap open, but your head tilts back with pleasure at his request. You feel so close. You don't know how he gets you teetering over the edge so fast. Maybe it's the husky sound of his voice as he calls you a million different lovely names. Maybe it's the way his tan arms look caging you beneath his body. Or maybe it's the way he gets lost staring in between your bodies. 

Rooster is obsessed with the way he looks sliding in and out of you while you cry out underneath him. But he can never look away too long, always needing to see the look in your eyes as he fucks you in a way that makes you whine and beg for him—makes you desperate for him in his favorite way. He never gets tired of the shock on your face when he whispers filthy words into your ear as he touches parts of you no one ever has. And you hope to god that no one but him ever will again. 

Did Bradley love seeing you act out his domestic fantasies? Of fucking course. The pilot could hardly keep his hands off you most evenings, barely getting the chance to say hello before he was winded at the sight of you floating around the kitchen. Always humming along to a tune he liked — or at least he liked the sound of it coming sweetly from you — before you noticed he was in the room. You were always stirring this, or chopping that. Asking him to taste this for salt or, like most times, you simply said "sit and relax, Rooster, let me take care of you." like you did this morning. He loved the way you took care of him. You did it without pretense or motive. Just did it because you loved to see him loved. You adored doting on Bradley Bradshaw because you knew he deserved it. You knew how he craved it. 

But, for as much as Bradley liked you sweet and delicate in the kitchen, he loved you fucked out and messy more. He went crazy over the way you'd suck his fingers into your mouth while he was fucking you, doing anything just to feel fuller. Loved the way you teased—all half-lidded eyes and parted lips, walking around half-dressed with an innocent smile on your face as you stepped in front of the TV, interrupting whatever college football game he happened to be watching with a simple Hi, Bradshaw. He lived for the chase and would do stupid, dangerous things for the reward. 

“Bradley,” you whisper, and it elicits another moan from him, one that is throaty and deep, "Make me cum, please,"

He wants to keep teasing you, wants to make you wait so badly, wants to make you yell out his name desperately as he edges you. But he can't—not this morning—not when you look so, so pretty laid out underneath him, like a fucking angel, he thinks to himself. 

"I've got you, pretty honey," he leans down to press his chest into yours, relishing in the feeling of your hard nipples pressed into his heated skin, "don't have to do a thing, sweet girl, just feel how deep that cock is inside you, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"Oh, Bradley," you whine, crying out at the feeling of his shaft hitting parts of you that hurt so goddamn good. Parts of you that made tears prick at the corners of your eyes, made your toes curl and your heart pound out of your chest. 

He's close too, he can never stop talking the closer to release he gets. "That's it, baby, tell me who's making you feel good. Tell me whose cock is gonna make you cum." his words are filthy as he chases his orgasm alongside yours. 

You would tell him anything he wanted to hear right now, confess your deepest darkest secrets if he asked. 

"It's you, Rooster" you moan. "Always you, only you. No one else can fuck me like you Rooster, please. Please." you plead desperately, you're so close to cumming and it's driving you insane, making your skin tingle all over as you stand over the edge waiting to jump. 

Bradley's mind goes blank at your words, he can't do anything but continue to fuck you deeper, soaking in your praise before it shoots straight into his pelvis and grips him tight. 

You hold on to him tightly as you cum, holding him as close as possible as you grind against him, body moving instinctually at this point to chase the most pleasure possible, to milk every last ounce of euphoria you can from him. 

Bradley's own gratification is close, he knew it was the moment he felt your pussy start pulsing around his cock as you came. He was absolutely basking in every little noise coming from as you came undone underneath him, he loved watching you come apart, loved that he was the one doing it. 

"I want it, baby," you preen underneath him, shocking him out of his reverie and snapping his attention to the fucked out expression on your face, "need to feel you cum inside me Bradley, please, baby. Need it so, so bad, honey."

He growls and you know that did it. The deep, raspy noise coming from him as he spills inside you makes you clench down on his shaft, hard. The feeling of your cum soaked pussy clenching around him makes Bradley curse into your ear. Makes him thrust hard into your sensitive hole as he groans out your name.

When you still, the two of you are slick with a fine layer of sweat, bellies moving in tandem as you fight desperately to fill your lungs and steady your heartbeats. 

If there's one thing Bradley loves, it's the afterglow. He could lie on top of you with his cock soft inside your velvet walls for hours. Wouldn't move if he didn't have the unfortunate human need for food and water. On rare occasions, Bradley would be so relaxed post-orgasm, he would doze off on your chest, his breath coming out in gentle puffs over your skin as you pet the top of his head, basking in the sight of him bare and malleable underneath you.  

"I think breakfast might be a little cold, baby," he says with a smile, gazing up at you with a look you could only describe as smitten.

"Shame," you tut, and your hand grips his hair a little tight, nothing that hurt, nothing that no one but a top naval aviator would notice, a little twitch as you considered what to say next. "can I tell you a secret?" you're grinning now too.

"Spill it," his expression is giddy as he waits for your confession. 

"I love doing this with you," you didn't mean to be earnest. You meant to say something witty, something funny. 

But you couldn't, honesty pouring out of you like a tub overflowing with water. Like someone had turned on the faucet and walked away. 

You see his expression soften before he's rolling the two of you over, his eyes never leaving yours as he brings the both of you to lay on your sides, mirroring the position you were in earlier this morning. Hands gripped tightly between each other, chests moving in tandem as you bring your faces impossibly close together. "Me too, baby," he's smiling so sweetly it's making your stomach fill with butterflies "you have no idea."

[roosterforme]

You Can Handle It | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When your husband dominates on the pitchers mound in his recreational league game, you're a little bit turned on. But when you get him alone in the dugout, you realize that having your big, sweaty pitcher all to yourself might just be your fantasy.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, smut, role-play, sweaty sex and blowjob

Length: 2300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32

You were on the edge of your seat on the bleachers at the ballpark near the naval base. Bradley was pitching for the Navy Waves, and they were about to win against the team of Marines that came in undefeated. Until now. 

The sun was setting, and the stadium lights were buzzing to life. It was hot out, but Everett was on your lap anyway, and you were cheering so loudly you thought you might lose your voice. You were both wearing your matching BRADSHAW shirts and hoping for a win. "Come on, Bradley! You can do it two more times!"

Everett cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Let's go, Dad!"

And when you turned to look at Molly, she was bouncing Charlie on one knee and staring intently at the game and Bob in the outfield. "Holy hell, the Marines are undefeated," she said, gasping as Bradley threw another strike. 

"Not for long!" you and Everett said in unison. Bradley just needed to get this batter out and then one more. And then the Navy Waves would be the only team in the rec league with a perfect record. 

When the catcher threw the ball back to Bradley, he held it in his glove and removed his hat. He turned to look in your direction as he wiped his forehead with his forearm. You could tell he was exhausted. He looked like he only had a few pitches left in him after nine innings, but he still smiled at all four of you. 

"I know you can do it, Coach!" you shouted, and he nodded before turning back toward home plate. 

"He's gonna do it," Molly said softly. And then you watched your husband strike out the batter. 

You and Everett were on your feet and cheering as another Marine came up to bat. This could be the last one. Bradley just needed to control his pitches. He was so proud of you now that you could tell apart his slider, fastball and curveball, and you watched him wind up and throw his signature slider. You gasped as the bat made solid contact with the ball, sending it up high in the air. 

"Come on, Bob!" Molly shouted as the ball seemed to hang out in the air deep over the outfield before falling down into Bob's glove. And then the game was over. The Navy Waves had won. 

You, Molly and Everett all screamed while you covered Charlie's ears. They would get to go on to play the championship game in two weeks, and you would get to cheer them on in your BRADSHAW and FLOYD shirts. 

Everyone in the Waves uniforms crowded Bradley on the pitcher's mound, and the other team of disgruntled players all walked back to their dugout and started packing their equipment. "Can I go down yet?" Everett asked, looking up at you with pleading eyes. 

"Yeah. Go ahead." You watched your son take off down the steps and walk through the opening in the fence. And as soon as he started running across the infield, Bradley broke free from his teammates and went to pick him up in a big hug that had your heart melting. 

Molly nudged you in the side, and you smiled at her. "Why don't you let us take Ev home for the night. It's Saturday, and he can play with Charlie tomorrow morning."

"Really?" you asked, stroking Charlie's cheek with your thumb while he sucked on his pacifier. 

"Yeah, Ev loves playing with Charlie, and it will give me a little break, too. Besides, I can tell you want to do some nasty shit with my turd-in-law," she said with a grimace.

You bit your lip and said, "Thanks. Ev will love this idea. And so do I."

"Honestly," Molly huffed, "he makes it hard for me to be mean to him sometimes." She nodded toward Bradley where he had Everett sitting on his shoulders on the pitcher's mound. Your son seemed happier with each passing day that Bradley was in your lives. 

The players were starting to disperse now, and Bob was headed your way with his bag as you passed him on the stairs. "Nice catch," you said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

He blushed and thanked you, and you watched him wrap Molly and their son up in a hug before you headed down onto the field. Bradley's hat was on backwards now, and while he still looked worn out from the long game, he was smiling as you got closer. 

"Nice job, Coach," you said as you pressed your hand to his sweaty jersey, and he leaned in to kiss you while Everett ran around. With a soft grunt, you felt your husband's hands wrap around your waist. The overhead lights were bright, and his body was arm, and everything felt right. 

"Did it for you. And Ev," he whispered, his mustache brushing your skin. 

"We love you. You're the best," you replied, rubbing yourself against the front of him. When your hand skimmed his white baseball pants, you felt hard plastic.

Bradley chuckled and said, "That's just my athletic cup, Kitten. But if you want me hard for you later, I'm sure that can be arranged."

You glanced over your shoulder and saw most of the rest of the players and coaches had cleared out. "Hey, Ev," you called out to your son. "Do you want to have a sleepover with Aunt Molly and Uncle Bob?"

His eyes lit up. "Can I play with Charlie and help feed him breakfast in the morning?" he asked. 

When you nodded he ran over to hug you and Bradley before racing off to Molly who then shouted down, "Have fun. But don't tell me anything about it later."

"What does that mean?" Bradley asked, wrapping his arms around your waist. He smelled like fresh sweat and his deodorant. The strands of hair that peaked out from his cap were damp, and you absolutely did not want to wait until you got him home. 

You unbuttoned the top of his jersey and pressed your nose against his chest hair. "Do you know when the stadium lights turn off for the night?" you asked before pressing a kiss to his chest. 

"I think they're on a timer," he rasped as you unzipped his pants. And then the most wonderful thing happened. The bright lights started to dim as the bulbs shut off, and you grinned up at him. He still looked a little puzzled as you ran your fingers along the elastic of his jockstrap. "You remember your ballfield fantasy that you told me about?"

His eyes lit up as the lights got dimmer. "Are you serious right now?"

"Yes."

Bradley tipped his head back and groaned. "The sexy bat girl gives me head in the dugout?"

"Only if you want it."

You screeched as Bradley picked you up and hauled you off the field like it was on fire. "Oh, I fucking want it, Kitten," he growled, setting you down next to the bench where it was dark. The last few cars were pulling out of the lot, and you could see their headlights reflecting on the concrete wall at the back of the dugout. But it was quiet and covered and Bradley smelled so good as he caged you in against the wall, pressing his hands to the cool concrete on either side of your head.

"That was a really good game," you said softly, tugging him closer by the open fly of his snug pants. 

"Yeah? You liked that?" he grunted.

"Mmhmm," you moaned. "All the bat girls think you're the best and hottest player on the team. I wish I could wear your name on the back of my shirt." 

Bradley smirked as you braced your hands on his biceps and licked a long stripe up his neck and along his jaw. You could feel his stubble and taste the salt of his drying sweat, and you had to squeeze your thighs together against your arousal. 

"I have an idea," he whispered, pressing his lips to yours briefly. "How about you take that sweet tongue a little further south. You suck my cock just right, and I'll let you wear Bradshaw on your back as much as you want, Baby."

You were tight up against the wall, but you instantly dropped to your knees for him. It was really getting dark now, but you could still clearly see the dirt stains on his pants as you pulled them down a little further. You kissed along his thigh and licked at his coarse hairs peeking out from his jockstrap. He was sweaty. So sweaty. And he tasted delicious. He smelled even better. You moaned so loudly as your fingers wrapped around the elastic and pulled down until you could remove the athletic cup that was being held in place. 

He was already semi hard, and you looked up at him as the plastic cup clattered to the dugout floor next to you. "You're massive."

"You can handle it. I've been watching you handle bats all day. You know what you're doing." Bradley's voice was deep and dark, and you whimpered as you tugged his damp jockstrap further down his thighs. 

"I can handle it." Then you pressed your lips to his tip and coated them up with his sweat and precum. "God, you taste so good." You didn't even have to pretend. You felt slightly crazed as you kitten licked him before sucking on the tip. Salty and musky and sweet and sweaty. When you popped him out of your mouth, you wrapped your hands around his hips and pulled him closer. 

"Jesus," he groaned as you licked his balls clean of that salty taste you were craving now. You sucked on his balls and licked him everywhere. "Oh, you're something else."

"Bradley," you whined between licking long, steady stripes up to his bellybutton. "You taste amazing." Then you wrapped one hand around the base of his cock before you took his length deep, gagging as he hit the back of your throat.

"Holy hell!" he moaned, bucking gently and gripping the back of your neck with one hand. You could feel his hairs tickling your nose, and you inhaled as he withdrew. "Let me fuck your pretty face?"

You just nodded and moaned, and you tried to say yes as he filled you up with his cock over and over again. But tears started stinging your eyes, because you just wanted more. You licked him clean and sucked on him until he was cursing nonstop under his breath. With shallow thrusts, you felt him start pulsing against your tongue. When you gently squeezed his balls, you felt that he was tight and getting close. 

He jerked his hips back and you gasped, missing the heavy weight of his cock on your tongue. "Come here," he whispered, voice harsh as he hauled you to your feet and pressed you back against the wall. Then he devoured your mouth, his hands a little rough at the back of your neck and your waist as he started to yank down your leggings. "Let me cum in your pussy?"

"Yes," you gasped, and he spun you so you were facing the wall, bracing yourself with both hands. You could feel the cool, night air on your most intimate parts as he practically tore your leggings pulling them down. "Bradley!" you shrieked, your voice echoing in the covered dugout as he thrust into you with one hard stroke. 

"Well, would you look at that? Already wearing my name on your back, Baby."

"Bradley!"

He sucked on your neck and let his hand snake around to your clit as he fucked you. "You're just that good, huh? Wearing my name while I fuck you in the dugout. God damn it, Kitten."

You were a whining mess as he pinched and plucked your clit as his hips met your butt over and over again. And you knew he must be close, but you were so wet. He smelled and felt heavenly, and you could still taste him on your tongue as his breathing grew ragged. 

"Please," you begged, and he rubbed you until you felt yourself squeeze around his cock. He made a mess as he came, moaning your name into the cook of your neck as your orgasm left you shaking slightly. You could feel his cum dripping down your thighs as he withdrew. It felt good. And his fingers worked gently on your clit until you backed up against him.

Bradley just gently patted your pussy as he softly said, "The dugout, Baby? With a sexy bat girl? I'll never be the same, I swear it."

He helped you shimmy your leggings back into place, and when you turned to look at him, he was a disheveled mess in the semidarkness. His cock was hanging out from his jockstrap. His athletic cup was on the ground. His hat sat crooked on his head. And he still smelled amazing. "I don't think you're the only one with a baseball fantasy, Coach," you whispered, and he smirked.

"I'll indulge you whenever you want it. You know that. Now let's hit the showers at home and get you changed into your little cheerleader outfit."

"I thought you were tired!" you said as he tucked his length into his jockstrap and bent to retrieve the cup. 

"Not anymore," he rasped, wrapping his arm around your shoulders where you were proudly wearing his last name and yours. He tossed his bag of gear over his other shoulder, and you started heading for the parking lot. "Now give me all the details about your baseball fantasy."

-------------------------

Sweat and hot. Fuck. Send help. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[valhallaas]

That’s My Girl

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x sunshine!reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: SMUT (18+, minors dni) vaginal fingering, p in v, cream pie (wrap it up, pals) jake stirring the pot like the shithead he is

summary: when everyone but rooster sees it, there’s always a texan willing to step up to the plate. 

a/n: not me cackling while writing this like some crazed woman. ya’ll can blame @glen-powells​​ for this. the text messages can prove it. 

Part 2

Part 3

It surprises you every time you come back to the Hard Deck how it hasn’t changed. At least the atmosphere. Civilians and aviators alike. Penny grins at you when you walk in. Elbowing your way through the crowd, you take a seat at the bar, leaning far enough over to let her kiss you on the cheek. Her and your mom had been best friends. Penny’s known you since you were in diapers, helped your mom through the divorce, and helped you when she passed away. You always did your best to come visit her when you could. You’re on leave for the next two months and you aren’t wasting it anywhere else but here.

“Long time no see.” Penny says as she grabs you a drink.

You only grin. “You’ll be seeing so much of me, you’ll be sick of me.”

“Is free labor included in that?”

“Always.” A two toned whistle catches your attention. Turning to look behind you, you sigh at the sight. Holy shit. They’re all here. Your eyes narrow at the blonde, his grin widening when he catches you staring. “Maybe not tonight, Pen.”

Penny shakes her head. “I didn’t think so. Go on, then.”

Throwing her a grateful smile, you’re up and heading towards the pool table. It’s a reunion, no doubt. You’d been overseas the last few months. Seeing everyone here is a blessing. You can’t help the splitting grin on your face when Bob wraps you up right in his arms. How the two of you hit it off, you’ll never know, but you aren’t complaining.

“Look who it is, folks. Our Sunny girl. Did ya’ll see it get brighter in here when she walked in?”

Your eyes roll so far into the back of your head you’re surprised they don’t get stuck. Turning, you come face to face with the blonde who’d called for your attention.

“Hangman,”

He pulls the toothpick out of his mouth and winks. “Sunshine.”

“What’s got y’all here?”

“You.” Phoenix answers, standing from where she knocked two solids in at the pool table.

You turn to look back at the bar. Penny’s already looking at you with a smirk. What a little sneak. You should’ve known she let you go too easily. Shaking your head you step forward and snag the pool stick from Hangman. He smirks, but doesn’t say anything. You quirk an eyebrow. Lieutenant Jake Seresin keeping his mouth shut? It’s a goddamn miracle. His eyes never leave you as the game finishes. Phoenix grumbles at her loss, you were three shots behind when you started. It’s not your fault that you’re good, that you’re very good. Handing the stick off to Bob, your eyes scan the bar. It’s been almost thirty minutes since you got here. It’s a Saturday night and the bar is busy.

No Hawaiian shirt in sight. No porn mustache spotted anywhere. Your shoulders deflate. If everyone else is here, why isn’t he?

“Who you looking for, Sunshine?”

You glance sideways. “Wouldn’t like to know.”

Jake only grins. “Your bird boy ain’t here yet. Had a meeting with Maverick, I believe.”

Fucking Christ. Are you really that hopeless when it comes to him? So exposed that even Bagman can tell that your head over heels for Rooster? It’s not like it’s your fault. If you had it your way, you’d be happy with your own company. But the heart wants what the heart wants.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do. Because as much as you pine for him, Bradshaw is a dumbass.”

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t noticed, Sunny. You’re still that kid from down the road. You need to do something to make him see you.”

The thought has crossed your mind. You’ve known Bradley so long that he probably didn’t think of you that way. Your teeth bite into your cheek, hands fiddling with the hem of your dress. You don’t miss the way Hangman’s eyes take you in. His gaze lingering on your bare thighs. You huff out a small laugh, pulling his attention back to your face.

You and Jake have a weird relationship. He annoys you to no end but you trust him with your life. Pretty sure you’re the only one in the bar that does. Jake’s been protective of you since you met at Top Gun. A relationship without the relationship, you suppose.

“Can always stir the pot,”

You blink. “What?”

“Make him jealous, Sunny.” A snort escapes you and you slap a hand over your mouth. Jake’s smile is wide, his head falling back with a deep chuckle. “Oh, Sunny girl.”

“I have no one to make him jealous. Even if I did, that’s a stupid idea. What am I, in eighth grade?”

“Honey, look at who you’re talking to.”

Green eyes devour you when you look up at him. He is right. No one gets under Rooster’s skin more than Hangman. You bite your lip, unsure. You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t. But there’s a fire in Hangman’s eyes, like he’s got a point to prove. Playing with the hem of your dress, you scrape the toe of your shoe against the floor. Fuck it, really, what do you have to lose?

“What are we going to do, exactly?”

Jake raises his hand, cupping the side of your face. His thumb lightly drags over your bottom lip before pulling it down. He pulls it away and looks down at the faintly smeared mauve color now on the pad. He lifts it up to his mouth and rubs it in.

“What are you doing?”

His lips tilt into a knowing smirk. “Teasin’.”

He’s going to get you in trouble. Lifting a hand to your own mouth, it’s smacked lightly. Sharp eyes glare at him.

“Go pick out a song. Let’s dance.”

“Dance?”

“Yeah, Sunshine, dance. Now go, and pick out a good one.”

You roll your eyes but do as you're told. Eyes follow you the whole way to the jukebox. You lean over, just a bit, the bottom of your dress rising up to tease. Was that why you wore it? Maybe. You wouldn’t tell. Flipping through the songs, you pause a few pages back, a knowing smile taking over your face. Putting the money in, you twirl back to face Jake. When the song starts playing he laughs.

“Honey, you are playing dirty.”

“You started it.”

“Well, you do have your boots on.” He says toeing your Ariats.

“Come on, Texas. Show me how to boogie.”

“You are asking for trouble.”

An eyebrow raises. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Jake doesn’t say anything else. His hand grabs for yours, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you tightly to him. You can’t help but gasp when his thigh slots between yours. Tightening your grip on his shoulder, he twirls you both out and makes room to have a dance floor. The other patrons cheer while watching. A few cat calls thrown your way. A carefree laugh makes its way from you. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this way. It’s silly, really. To think that teasing a grown ass man made you feel this way.

“Just a heads up, Sunny girl, Bradshaw’s been watching since you went to pick out the song.” Your heart drops. What now? You go to turn your head, to try to find him, anything, really, but are stopped short. Jake slides his hand into your hair keeping you still. “Stop. You’re going to ruin it. I can see his fucking vein bulging from here.”

This is a good thing, right? This is what you wanted? His attention? Jake knows what he’s doing. He’s never led you astray before. Hopefully he won't start now. Jake lets you go, hanging you out with one hand before twirling you around. You’re facing away from him now, and you come face to face with Rooster. You inhale sharply, the smell of him overwhelming you.

“What’s going on here?” He asks, no preamble.

“We’re dancing, I know you have eyes, Bradshaw.”

Bradley looks from Hangman down at you. Head to toe his eyes blaze over you. A fire touching your skin. Licking at the top of your exposed breasts and down your thighs. You can see his lips twitch. The man knows you. His hand reaches out, pinches the fabric of the dress, rolling it between his fingers. It’s his favorite color, and by the look in his eyes you know he knows you wore it just for him.

“Hey Sunshine.”

“Hi Rooster.”

“Couldn’t wait for me, huh?”

You frown. Opening your mouth to talk, you’re promptly cut off. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Rooster shrugs. You follow after him to the table where all your friends are. Most of them try their hardest to look as if they aren’t watching this scene play out like a movie. You jump up to sit on the table, grabbing your drink and taking a sip. You hand Hangman his beer, his glare still on the man beside you. Neither of them say anything for a long time. They just stare, having a silent conversation that you don’t know how to decipher.

“Didn’t know you had a thing for Bagman, Sunshine.” Rooster finally says.

You snort, ignoring Jake’s smirk. “He wishes.”

“That why your lipstick is on his mouth?”

“Who’s mouth should it be on? Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.” Jesus Christ, he’s trying to get you into fucking trouble. Widened eyes look at Jake, his face more stoic than you’ve ever seen it.

“What does that mean?”

Hangman huffs, taking a pull from his beer. “All I’m saying Bradshaw, is that you’ve got a hell of a woman hanging off every word you say. Waiting on you to finally do something. So, you better fuck her before I do.”

Did he know you could hear him? You’re sitting like two feet away. Neither of the men back were backing down and it’s making your anxiety spike. They’ve always been at each other's throats. You’re not sure when their little feud became about you.

“Did she say that?”

“Say what?”

“Did Sunshine say that she wanted you to fuck her?”

There was no hiding the smugness in Bradley’s tone. Hook, line, and sinker. A muscle twitches in Jake’s jaw from how hard he’s clenching his teeth. Suddenly, he glances over at you and you know you must look like a deer caught in headlights. He sighs but it doesn’t sound like one of defeat. More like he’s losing his patience.

He steps towards you, thumb trailing over your bottom lip. “If it doesn't work out with him, Sunny. You know where to find me.”

Hangman turns without looking at either of you again and makes for the jukebox. Your lips quirk up when you recognize the song.

***

The sound of the door closing is your only warning. Hazel eyes meet yours in the mirror as you roll your neck. Your body relaxes when you feel him press up against your back. He’s so warm it sends chills running down your spine. The bathroom isn’t all that big. Bradley stands behind you, invading your space and swallowing it whole. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. It’s easy to see that Hangman’s words have gotten under your skin. Your heart thunders in your chest at what’s going to happen next. A small prayer is sent off that Penny never finds out.

“You look good, flower.”

You smile at the nickname. “Thanks. It’s always fun when you can dress up in civvy clothes.”

He huffs. “The dress is really something,”

You grin at him through the mirror and you see Adam’s apple bob, hazel eyes fixated on your lips. You swallow, your throat thick. Tearing your gaze from his, you smooth your hands down the soft material, fingers playing with the hem of it. You took a chance with it, and you’re grateful it’s working out in your favor.

The tension is thick and heady. It clings to your skin, his callouses catch on your skin, gluing themselves to you. The music from the jukebox beats against the bathroom door, it’s the only thing accompanied by your heavy breathing. Your eyes shut when his hand pulls your hair to rest over one shoulder. A light yank of your hair has them snapping open. You meet his eyes in the mirror. One eyebrow quirks up at you. With a shaky breath you nod. Bradley leans in, lips lightly brushing against the expanse of your neck. His gaze rests on the soft spot right next to where it connects to your shoulder. You tilt your neck not only to give him more access, but permission too. Your lips tilt at the groan he lets out before his lips are on you.

Slowly his hands pull your sleeves down your arms. Goosebumps rise on your exposed skin. It makes you feel a little vulnerable. But then Bradley pushes himself even closer. He’s got his Hawaiian shirt on, jeans, and his boots. You can feel him breathing, his chest warming your back. It’s when he pushes his hips against you—you can feel him. All of him. A whimper escapes you and you see him grin in the mirror.

A hand trails down your side while the other moves to your chest. Your head falls back when a nipple is taken between his calloused fingers. You’ve only dreamt of what his hands would feel like. Your imagination didn’t do him justice. The heat coming from him is intoxicating. You’ve been so caught up in him that you haven’t realized a hand has been slipping down, down down. Fingers toiling with your dress, pushing the skirt up slowly. A hum rumbles from him when his fingers finally find your core, slipping between your folds. You’re completely soaked. You’ve been this way since he appeared right in front of you. Your breath locks in your throat when he slips a digit in.

“Christ,” he mutters, voice thick like honey. “No panties, flower?”

You whine, you can’t help it. You push your hips back into him, arching your back. His voice, the accusation in his tone. You knew what you were doing when you left your house. Maybe he’d come home with you, fucking you good and proper in your bed. Not pressed up against the sink of the Hard Deck. Bradley pulls his finger out only to push it back in with another. He does this, warming up your body, until you’re moaning, your own hand wrapped around his wrist and guiding him. You can’t stop your hips from grounding down on his hand. Desire has taken over. Bradley has left your nipple, hand now wrapped around your throat, holding you hostage to watch yourself in the mirror. He grunts when you clench around his fingers. You’re close, so close.

“Bradley,” you whine, fingers digging into his arm.

“I know, flower. You want it real bad, don’t you? Let me feel it. Let me feel you gush all over my hand sweet girl. Would you like that?”

You’re going to come off his words alone. A moan falling from your lips as the pressure tightens. It’s only moments later when the band snaps, hot liquid flooding throughout your body. Your head falls back against his chest, another moan filling the small space.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.”

You can feel him moving behind you. The distinct clinking of his belt being undone. Your whole body grows hotter in anticipation. Searing heat hits you, a hand stroking himself while the other is spreading you open. Heat pulses between your legs. There’s no doubt that he’ll split you wide open. After what you just pulled with Jake, you’d be surprised if he was forgiving at all. It’s a little fucked up, but it warms your belly all the same. Lifting your head, you gasp when his eyes meet yours. Bradley’s pupils are blown, lust and primal desire have taken over. His lips pink and full, he bends down and kisses right between your shoulder blades. Traveling up your spine, over your shoulder, he digs his teeth in where it meets your neck. You don’t miss his smirk when you moan.

He slides a hand across your ass, slapping you just hard enough to leave a red handprint behind as he thrust deep, bottoming out. A hand clamps down around your mouth, muffling the scream trying to break free. He’s big, so fucking big. He’s filling you up like never before. It hurts, a pain that you will never get enough of. Your knuckles turn white with each rough, lazy thrust. Bradley slides a hand along your spine, up the back of your neck and into your hair, your breath catches as he pulls your head up and you’re meeting his gaze in the mirror. He’s watching you come undone around him. Each stroke pulling more and more pleasure. Your cheeks are flushed, pupils blown with lust, and lips parted as each of your clipped breaths turn into whimpers.

“Flower,” he grits, hand tightening in your hair, “you feel so fucking good.”

You stare back at him, feet spreading wider to let as much of him in as you can. His teeth dig into your skin again, this time leaving bruises behind. It makes you whine. Little secrets that litter your skin. He thrusts harder, rougher until your hand is pressed against the mirror just to keep you balanced. He’s fully claiming you. Cock punching into the deepest part of you. Neither of you are too worried about the sounds escaping you now.

“Bradley, I–” you're cut off by a whimper when he reaches that spongy spot deep inside you. Over and over again, you feel it approaching, your orgasm is going to come crashing down and you’re ready to bask in it. Your face lifts up, like a sunflower searching for the sun.

“Flower? Are you going to come for me again? Are you going to let me feel you come around my cock?”

“Yes! Yes, I–Rooster, fuck,”

You come on his cock like a tidal wave, and when you collapse against the counter, your body trembles, heaving desperately for air. Bradley groans, pulling you up until you’re flush against him. His lips meet yours in a messy kiss, bucking his hips harder until he’s chasing his high right over the ledge with you.

“Good girl,” he praises, wiping the sweat off the back of your neck. “Good fuckin’ girl. That’s my good girl.”

The jukebox is still blaring when you exit the bathroom. Slowly you make your way back to where your friends are. Ignoring all of their knowing stares you reach for your drink and down it. When Bradley finally makes his appearance beside you, a possessive arm thrown over your shoulders and a quick kiss to the crown of your head. Hangman’s watching the both of you, a knowing look in his eye.

“So, Bradshaw, how was she?”

[thebirdandthebee]

Call Him Daddy (18+)

This one’s short and sweet - trying to bust a writing slump. I could very easily do a part two if there’s interest! Smut ahead :) 

Title: Call Him Daddy Bradley’s been waiting for this day for years, but now, you’ve given him the green light. WC: 2187

The first sign of consciousness was soreness. Before you’d even popped your eyes open that morning, you felt the sublime ache between your legs, and oddly, your breasts.

There was no one to blame but your husband, Bradley. Who’d been awake for about half an hour or so, but hadn’t left the confines of your 500-thread-count sheets.

Bradley was on cloud nine because you were officially trying. After he’d been wishing and hoping and being patient for years, you’d finally had the conversation last night. You’d been married for four years after three years of dating and now, you were comfortable with the thought of tackling parenthood with Bradley.

“Babe? Are we out of mayo?” Bradley had called from the kitchen. You’d assembled a nice little table of accouterments, potato salad and chips as he’d grilled burgers for dinner and you were poised to eat out in the backyard.

Bradley, along with the help of a few of his squadron teammates, had finished the fence in the backyard last week and you were now able to enjoy the outdoor space with just a little more privacy.

“It’s on the door!” You called back, excited, nervous energy zipping through your veins. Tonight you were telling Bradley you’d gotten your IUD removed. Your IUD, which he saw as his mortal enemy.

The truth was, Bradley would have been thrilled if you’d gone off your birth control when you’d gotten married four years earlier. He always thought there was something romantic – traditional – about a honeymoon baby. Hell, he would’ve been more than happy if you’d gotten pregnant before you’d tied the knot.

There were few things in this life he wanted more than to be a dad and have a big family. As someone who grew up with so little, the idea of a full house felt like a dream. You had always known about Bradley’s wishes to be a father, and he was understanding that while it was something you wanted to do, be a mother, you wanted to check a few things off your list first.

You wanted to get married, do some traveling, establish a little more financial security and enjoy life with just you and Bradley for a few years. You loved everything about being a pair – Christmas mornings, vacations, nights out with friends – those would all change with a baby. Certainly for the better, but it would be different, and you’d never get that time as just the two of you again.

You’d spent six weeks backpacking through Europe in the fall, and since then, you’d slowly and quietly been making preparations to transition to a family of three.

And tonight, you’d finally tell Bradley.

“Baby, it all looks wonderful,” you smiled as he sat down, placing a big bowl of watermelon, along with a jar of mayonnaise on the table. “Love when you grill,” you leaned over your bistro table to kiss his cheek.

“Thanks Babe,” he grinned, not flinching as you snagged the sunglasses from the collar of his T-shirt and dropped them over your eyes. You’d chatted about the day – your work day was quiet and Bradley was bringing in a special detachment for training over the next eight weeks. Most of all, you enjoyed the gentle breeze and scent of the neighbors’ lilacs.

“I was thinking…” you began, earning a deadpan look from your husband. Anytime you started ‘thinking’ usually ended up in a new project for him. “Now that the fence is up, could we plant some flowers over in that corner there?” You gestured to the far left side of the yard. A simple request.

“Yeah, we can do that pretty easy,” he agreed. “Maybe some bushes in the other, we can mulch around,” he laid out with his hands, pausing to take a big bite of his now assembled burger.

“Mm, I don’t think that corner,” you shook your head, “I want to keep that back wall of the yard clear,” you stabbed a piece of watermelon before taking a bite.

“Okay, maybe back along the right side,” he trailed a finger along the fence line. “Maybe a bonfire pit?” He suggested.

“Oh definitely not,” you shook your head, nibbling away at your dinner.

“Okay – how about a Jacuzzi?” He suggested. “Now that we have the fence, we don’t need to worry about bathing suits,” he grinned, and while it was a great deal of work not to grin back, you somehow managed.

“Nah, I just don’t think we’d get much use out if it,” you shrugged.

“Baby – nothing along the back side, no bonfire pit, no Jacuzzi – what did we fence this yard in for?” He asked, laughing as he polished off his first burger. It was not out of the ordinary for Bradley to put away three or for burgers on a grill night. You wiped your mouth with a napkin, crossing your legs before taking off his sunglasses.

“Know what I’m thinking?” You asked, taking a final sip of your iced tea. “I’m thinking… swing set along the back there – it’s the perfect view from the kitchen,” Bradley set his fork down. “And a bonfire pit will be fun eventually, but little feet running around the backyard make me anxious… and the Jacuzzi – you know I’d love to take a skinny dip with you, but… it’s just not good for pregnant people, I already Googled it.”

Bradley’s brain short-circuited for a moment.

“And how,” he paused to clear his throat,” how long until we need to start worrying about that?”

“Well I just got my IUD out last week, but my doctor said I can get pregnant in my first cycle,” you dragged your fingertip around the rim of your drinking glass. “Not everyone does, but you’ve always been an overachiever,” you said, meeting his gaze.

“Now? We – now?” Bradley asked, sputtering, patting all over his chest and shorts like he’d misplaced his phone.

“Now,” you nodded, barely getting a moment to gauge his reaction before he was out of his seat, shoulder pressing into your midsection as he hoisted you over his shoulder.

You were sure your neighbors heard the terrified scream that morphed into giggles as he all but kicked the back door in.

“Now?” He said to himself in disbelief, suddenly forgetting the layout of his own home, twisting around in circles to find the staircase. “I can’t believe this, I didn’t do anything to prepare!” He said, not even registering that you were swinging around over his shoulder.

“And what exactly would you have done to prepare?” You asked, wondering if squirrels would completely demolish the spread that laid out on the patio table.

“I don’t know, but I would have done something,” he insisted, taking the stairs by two and only mildly terrifying you.

“Oh my God,” he mumbled, setting you down on the mattress gingerly and immediately reaching for the non-existent fly on his shorts, which were held up on a drawstring. His brain, completely scrambled, was not cooperating and he hastily grabbed the waistband and ripped the shorts down his legs.

God you loved his pale thighs.

“Bradley, you don’t need to hurry!” You laughed.

“Of course I do,” he insisted, kneeling on the bed with one leg between yours, getting to work right away on your button-fly shorts. “I want ‘em all, baby,” he insisted. “Boys, girls – lots of ‘em – and I want ‘em now.”

“I thought we said three max?” You asked, peeling off your own top as he made busywork of your panties.

“Three to start,” he elaborated, “fuck I don’t care.” He shook his head. Pausing, he crawled up to meet you at eye-level. “I love you so much,” he said sincerely. “I can’t wait to be a Dad,” he added, “but more than that, I can’t wait to see you be Mom.” You leaned up to kiss him gently, the same mustache you’d been in love with for years tickling you softly. “You’re sure?” he asked, brows furrowing with just a bit of concern.

“I’ve never been so sure about anything,” you replied, pushing your fingers through his hair. “Thank you for being so patient with me,” you added, “it means more than you know.” Bradley, at the risk of getting choked up, simply kissed you once more before pressing his forehead against yours.

“If I get emotional right now I won’t be able to get hard,” he said honestly, making you giggle.

“You’re going to be such a good Daddy,” you breathed into his ear, nipping at his earlobe.

“Just kidding, I’m hard.”

Now, in the morning light, he was watching with moony eyes as you nuzzled down into your pillow. Your eyes fluttered for a moment as you took stock of all the delicious places you were suddenly acutely aware of with a small twist of your body.

“Mornin,’” Bradley murmured, tucking one hand behind his head.

You groaned gently, eyes squeezing shut tight before softly opening.

“Hi baby,” you greeted, blearily rubbing at your face. Eyes not yet focused, you zeroed in on your husband as he gazed over at you lovingly, his hand moving gently up and down beneath his blanket.

“Hi,” he grinned.

“What are you doing, Bradley?” You giggled, feeling like you were catching your 16-year-old boyfriend.

“Waiting for you to wake up,” he replied. “Ready for day two?” He asked.

“Day two?” You replied with an exasperated smile. “What’s your plan here Bradley?”

“Every day till we get a positive,” he said simply. “If you get pregnant in the next few weeks, we can have a spring baby,” he added.

“Bradley – every day?” You asked, eyes wide.

“I text Hondo, he’s covering for me at lunch next week, Phoenix can take the week after him,” he added.

“Bradley Bradshaw, what did you say to them?” You asked, mildly scandalized.

“Don’t you worry about it, baby,” he grinned, loving the way you rolled your eyes at him.

“Can’t you feed me first?” You asked softly, “the midnight grilled cheese was not enough,” you added. It was also the only time you two had come up for air all night.

“I will,” he assured, pulling the blanket off his body. His erection was pink, the tip wet and veins prominent. “But maybe, just to start the day…” he trailed off as his hand continued to pump up and down his length.

“I am sore,” you countered weakly, eyeing up his anatomy with a wanton gaze.

“I’ll be gentle,” he insisted, “you set the pace,” he added. You nodded, holding open your blanket, and soon, you were sliding down onto him, your body pressed tightly against his from head to toe.

“Oh, Bradley,” you sighed. And though you felt impossibly full, you felt complete. He gently rocked his hips up into you as you curled against his chest. “You’re so good to me,” you whispered, gasping as he hit a tender spot within you.

“You’re the one making my dream come true,” he countered, palming your ass in his hand as he dropped a kiss to the top of your head. “Gonna be the best Mama to our babies,” he encouraged.

You whined gently as he hit your cervix, which you were sure he’d bruised last night, but in the best way possible.

“S’okay,” he murmured, “doing such a good job,” he added, making your skin warm all over. “Doing such a good job.”

For moments, all that could be heard were his steady, even breaths and your soft exhales against his neck.

“Want you to come first,” he said, “I’m right after you – you first, baby.” Bradley did his absolute best to hold back as you gripped at his chest, hugging the underside of his shoulder to you as you fluttered around him. “Good job, good girl,” he looked up at the ceiling, a sweat breaking out across his forehead before he couldn’t hold back any longer. Just the idea that today could be the day they made a baby was enough for him.

“Bradley,” you gasped, his warm cum filling you as his hips jerked up erratically.

“Fuck,” he huffed out in a laugh. “I’m in there, babe,” he panted.

“I can tell,” you blushed, pressing your face into his chest once again. “Can you go make me some breakfast now?” You asked.

“You gotta wait,” he said, planting his feet and pushing his hips up to create a 45-degree angle, raising you up from the bed. “Gotta raise those hips,” he said, matter-of-fact.

“Baby,” you laughed. “Is this real or you just made it up?” You asked, bringing you hands up to brace on either side of his head

“I got a feeling,” he replied. “And it feels nice,” he added, making you blush again. “Next time, you’re gonna be upside down,” he commented.

“Upside down? Bradley, no,” you shook your head with another laugh.

“Baby, I’m gonna fold you every which way till Sunday,” he all but purred. “You’re gonna feel me in here for weeks,” he slapped your bare ass, making you squeal. “Your days as the only person calling me Daddy are over.”

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed Call Him Daddy, you might also like Mighty Fine!

[ohcaptains]

triple x

pairing. rooster x pilot! female! reader 

an. this took me forever. pls comment and reblog i beg<3  synopsis. you and rooster keep your relationship private. you meet up at a hotel miles away whenever you can, sometimes waiting weeks before meeting again. this time though, it’s been months, and the pair of you decide to spend all night making up for lost time. 

warnings. 18+ only. minors do not interact with this fic or follow me -- i am not responsible for your media consumption. this is very explicit. I guess top gun counts as a warning. female and male receiving oral, and female receiving penetration. unprotected mirror sex, extreme dirty talk and descriptions. leans more towards m!dom. slight sub space, come play, come eating, spitting and saliva. if you copy my shit i’ll find out.

The night-time is forgiving.

Nobody can see the sweat beading around your forehead, or the way you’re clenching your fists, trying to stop the tingling sensation from spreading up your arms.

You’re nervous.

Can feel it swelling in your belly, drumming against your heart and chest. The black of the night means it’s all hidden, though. Hidden, as you lean against the familiar motel wall, waiting for Rooster to come with the keys.

It's easy to miss him when he’s in his civvies.

You only recognise him in the dark green and beige of the navy uniform the pair of you share, thus, when you see a man walking towards you, your nerves heighten. Triple tenfold, before Rooster’s familiar face comes into view. The lines of his brown, blonde hair, and the shape of his moustache.

There he is, your subconscious whispers, and your body relaxes. When he sees you leaning against the wall, a brilliant grin splits his scowl in two, and his walk turns to a jog.

The first thing he says is, “missed you,” even though he saw you three hours ago.

Mumbles it into the night, his hand coming round to grab your waist as he bends to kiss you, and you don’t see the grateful smile he’s got on his scarred face, but you feel it against your mouth, spreading as you wrap your arms around his neck and melt into him.

He smells like the sun and the sea, feels warm and intimate, and your bodies slot together, merge into one as he softly pushes your back into the wall.

Rooster deepens the kiss. Splays his wide hand over your hip, coming round to grab beneath your ass, and he forces your thigh up and around his waist. Your body sighs out in relief. Opens up to him completely. The kiss makes you dizzy; his tongue pushing into your mouth and reminding you how long it’s been.

“You miss me too?” he whispers, ghosting his mouth across your cheek.

Rooster likes to be told.

Likes to be complimented and reassured, but all you can do is focus on his fingers pushing into your thigh, the night-time breeze sending his cologne spiraling into your nose. 

You’re drunk on him already. “Yeah, Jesus,” you whisper back, flicking your eyes up into his. He’s staring at you intently, eyes swimming in something thick and bright.

The moon glistens over his features, letting you see everything you’ve missed up close. You see him every day, but looking at him now, it’s like the first time. The scars on his neck and cheek, the little one he’s got on his chin.

You reach out and trace the lines, run a thumb over his soft, pink lips and focus on the way his tongue darts out and touches your skin. It causes an electric current to shoot through your belly.

“Did anyone see you leave?” you breathe, hand still cupping his chin.

He shakes his head softly. “We’re pros at this now, sweetheart.”

The pet name causes something dormant in your chest to bloom – scratches an itch you can’t reach. You had to be careful. If anybody found out that the pair of you had been using your personal time off base to meet at a shady motel, you’d be disciplined within an inch of your life.

There were strictly no relationships between teammates.

Still, that didn’t stop you from meeting with Bradley once a fortnight.

Now, though, It’d been months.

Could barely remember the way here, or what room you usually occupied.

Rooster kisses you again because now he freely can.

The last time you kissed was three days ago.

You’d been pulled into an empty classroom, and lucky for Rooster, you realised who he was before you defended yourself. Had enough time to squeak a confused, “what the fuck?” Before he quieted you with his lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth and you wept.

Let out a pained sigh as you tasted him, hands holding onto his uniform for dear life. When he pulled away, you drunkenly blinked up at him, your dazed expression suddenly twisting into a scowl.

“Why’d you do that?” you whispered, and Rooster immediately understood. He’d broken the seal, left the pair of you begging for more. He was apologetic when he explained, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait.”

Felt it blooming in your chest, your body aching for more already.

“Only gonna make it worse,” you replied, before leaning up and capturing his lips in yours again, tasting the mint from his gum and the coffees your team had shared this morning. He was an addiction, and you’d gone months without.

Now, one little taste was going to break your clean streak. He groaned, eyes clenched closed with a hand flat on the wall beside you, the other fisting your t-shirt. The sound echoed through your body, and you committed it to memory – a fresh one.

It took all of your strength and willpower to pull away, rushing to the door.

As you went to open it, Rooster lunged for you. Took your hand in his and scrambled to say, “This Friday.” You tore your eyes away from the wood, looking at him in confusion. “What?” “Mav’s taking this weekend off. This Friday, 10 pm.” You nodded, trying to desperately quell the excitement that was suddenly pulsing through you. It made you silly, made you take his arm and pull him to you, kissing him quick. Finally, there was an end to your madness.

You tried to not get too thrilled – your plans could fall through. Still, you focused on Rooster's desperation as he hastily tasted you, before pulling away and shaking his head with a stupid grin.

“Think you can wait that long?” he quirked. “I think I can manage –” you checked your watch, “--eight hours.”

Rooster flicked his eyes over your features, a dreamy look flooding his features. He bit his lip and shook his head, saying, “I can’t,” and dipped to kiss you again.

As he kisses you now, the desperation is still there, but it’s slower. There’s finality, the end of a few long and torturous months in sight. You run your fingers over the fresh buzz at top of his neck, adoring the way it feels on your skin.

Want to touch all of him. Consume him in ways you haven’t for what feels like an eternity. You pull away, meeting Rooster’s blazing eyes.

“You got the keys?”

As soon as the door is locked behind you, Rooster’s pulling his jacket off.

When he drops it to the floor, his large palms come to grab your hips, taking you against his body with a feverish desire. He drops his chin and kisses you quick, manically, all teeth and tongue and no skill but hunger. He bumps his mouth against yours, mumbling, “you have no idea how much I want to fuck you.”

You do.

Can feel it pushing long and hard against your lower stomach. Familiar. It makes you ache.

Makes heat burgeon in your belly and across your cheeks as you imagine him taking you against the door. Pulling your skirt up and pushing inside of you, wet from his spit and it would hurt but fuck, it’s been so long that you want it to.

Want it hard and fast and desperate, then maybe afterwards you can take your time. Your hands go for his belt buckle, propelled by the sound he makes when your hands brush over his bulge.

He groans, a gasp trapped in his throat, then presses his sweet lips to yours and you’re sighing out in relief, pushing your tongue into his mouth, and wrapping your arms around his neck, body submitting to his completely.

“Not waiting that long again,” he declares, talking between kisses. He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hips and taking you against him. “A month is too long — my hands got blisters.” You imagine Rooster making himself come in his bunk, cupping his wide palm around his cock, and coming, covering his mouth to stifle the sounds from coming out. You feel the same. You tried to make yourself come the other night, and you were so turned on and frustrated that you cried. Sobbed into your pillow as you pushed your fingers into your dripping pussy, silently begging for Rooster to come and shut you up.

The familiar ache is with you now, pushing between your legs and pooling in your underwear.

He’s barely touched you.

You shove your hands to his belt buckle again, nodding against his mouth. “Yeah,” you agree, pulling his belt out of the loops. “Yeah, fuck.” “I know,” Rooster soothes, kissing you stupid. “I know baby.”

You manage to shuffle him against a nearby countertop, and you turn the lamp on, illuminating the pair of you in warm, orange light. He’s gorgeous.

Sometimes you forget how pretty he is, but then he saunters into the mess hall, sitting next to you on the table and mumbling a groggy, “morning.” His hair freshly styled, his moustache brushed, and his chin and cheeks shaved.

He looked like that this morning, and it made your belly clench with something tragic as you pictured him doing it all for you.

You drop to your knees in front of him, and Rooster groans, the sound coming from deep within his stomach.

“Fuck,” he spits, eyes following all of your movements. He soaks up the way your legs spread across the carpet, and the way your hands come up to shakily pull his trousers down. He helps you yank them off, revealing his light grey boxers, and you see his hard cock. See it leaking a dark patch on the fabric, and you can’t help yourself.

Can’t help but lean forward and nudge your nose across his length, jutting your tongue out and sliding it up the outline of his dick.

“Jesus Christ,” Rooster whispers, his eyes fluttering closed and mouth parting. “um’ gonna come as soon as you put me in your mouth,” he declares, and your belly clenches at the mere thought. “Okay,” you whisper, because fuck, that’s exactly what you want.

Want him desperate and whiney, coming thick and hot down your throat. Want it dripping down your chin and leaking over your neck. You take a reassuring breath, reaching up to tug his boxers down. Rooster’s chest is clenched, sucking in deep – in and out – as his cock slides out, and he hisses as it hits the air.

Before you even get his boxers past his knees, you’re leaning up and running your wet tongue over him, forcing him to choke and splutter your name into the motel room.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” he wheezes, clenching his eyes closed. You smile, resting your hands in front of you, crouching over his dick and just about touching him with your mouth, but Rooster’s already whimpering, pushing his hips up to get more. “Please,” he breathes. “Look at me,” you whisper, brushing your mouth over him. “Shit – “he hisses, hips jolting. “--’m gonna come if I do.” “S’what I want,” you quickly reply, leaning up to hold him in your steady palm.

He’s trying to calm himself down. Hold himself back – fingers holding the wood of the counter tight enough the bend it. Eventually, he does what you say. Takes in a shuddering breath, blinking down at you, and it’s then that you choose to collect spit behind your teeth and catch Rooster’s eyes, drooling it onto the red, wet head of his cock.

When you lean back, a trickle of saliva is still connected to your lips.

His eyes blow wide.

“’ so fucking hot,” he breathes, shaking his head as if he can’t believe it. As if he can’t believe this is happening right now and God, you’re the same.

It’s been so long that you can’t remember the way he tastes, feels – feels when he’s pushing inside of you, cursing your name.

When you slide your tongue over his slit, you taste him.

Taste his musk, remember it -- remember tasting him for the first time and hearing him sob your name. The memory of it spurs you on. Makes you speed up, using your hand to drag your saliva over his length as your mouth works over the head. 

You spit onto his dick again, pushing it over his cock and it slides down, dripping over your chin and onto the floor.

Rooster’s breathing is heavy, and when you look up, you see he’s holding his wide palm over his mouth, stifling any moans that want to come out. You pout around his cock, shaking your head up at him.

“’ wanna hear you,” you mumble, and Rooster slowly pulls his hand away, as if he had forgotten you liked that. When you take him back into your mouth, he flexes his hips, pushing himself deeper. “Fuckkkkk,” he groans, deep and low. You feel his hands come down, holding the sides of your head steady.

“Take me all the way, please. Please, baby.”

So, you do. Take him to the back of your mouth and you choke, your throat constricting, but you keep on going. Eyes watering, spit dribbling from your mouth and onto the hardwood, and Rooster watches you, whispering your name with his mouth open and eyes blissed out.

“God,” he drags, rolling his hips up, making you gag, making you push your spare hand between your thighs to try and quell the ache that’s building there, and Rooster sees.

Sees you grind your pussy into your palm once, twice, and the reality of the situation must hit him all at once, because, suddenly, he’s pulling back an inch, giving you a short warning before he’s coming quickly down your throat.

His whole body shudders. He groans your name. Says,

“Fucking shit, oh my fuck – shit, I’m – god -- sorry baby, fuck. Feel so fucking good, so fucking good, prettiest fucking girl I’ve ever – “he sucks in a quick breath, “– seen.”

Tries to calm himself down, but you don’t let up, keep on working your hand over him, milking his cock into your wanting mouth. “Mmm,” you hum around him, smiling. Mindlessly, you lick and suck at him, lapping up his come and your spit.

Rooster’s breathing begins to slow, and when you’re finished cleaning him up, you lean back onto your thighs and begin licking him from your fingers. He’s red from the neck up. His eyes are blown and red-rimmed, and when he looks down at you, he laughs, shocked more than anything.

“That’s the—” he starts, breathing in deep, “—that’s the quickest I’ve ever come.”

You giggle around your wet fingers, trying to hide your pride. Rooster wipes his forehead with the back of his palm, “’ felt so good.”

“Yeah?” you ask, squinting up at him. He’s still around your chin. Glistening on your throat, and you use your pointer finger to drag it up to your mouth, licking it off of your skin as Rooster watches. His eyes dilate -- focusing on how you wipe his come off of your bottom lip and put it into your mouth, where it belongs.

“Gonna be the fucking death of me,” he proclaims, and suddenly, he’s shoving his boxers all the way off, and bending down to pick you up.

Rooster drags you up from the floor and just about throws you onto the bed. You bounce on the squeaky mattress, giggling manically, and Rooster clambers to you, hands coming to take your thighs and suddenly, you’re not laughing anymore.

Your stomach drops, and you try to crane your neck up to see him. Instead, you choose to prop yourself up onto your elbows.

Rooster’s pulling your skirt down. Dragging it over your thighs and feet, then immediately coming back to do the same with your underwear. You lift your hips to help him, breath caught in the back of your throat from the eventuality of this situation.

The room is suddenly quiet apart from your desperate breathing, and the squeak of the mattress as Rooster comes back to your bare pussy, suddenly splitting you open with his wide and flat tongue.

“Shit,” you gasp, dropping back onto the bed. You try to hitch your hips away, but Rooster’s gripping onto your thighs, digging his fingers into your skin to keep you there.

“Don’t you dare move,” he orders, mumbling into your folds, and God, you can’t do anything but. It’s been so long that the feeling is foreign to you. Completely new, as he spits into your cunt and watches it slide from your clit to your puffy hole.

“Missed this fucking pussy,” he groans, burying his face back into it and dragging his tongue upwards, swirling your clit around with the perfect amount of pressure.

“Mm,” you sob, trying to scoot your hips back, but Rooster’s hands are locked onto your thighs, holding you tight enough to mark you.

It’s not that you don’t want it, but you’re incredibly sensitive already, clit aching and pussy clenching around nothing as he desperately laps at you, sloppily dragging his tongue over your cunt and drooling spit down your puckered hole.

“Bradley,” you weep, using his real name, hoping that it cuts through the thick of it all.

“You want something baby? M’busy.” His voice growls over your skin, doubling the obscene feeling that’s pooling at your lower back. “Shit, I don’t –” you gasp, shaking your head at the water-stained ceiling. It’s never hit you this quick before.

Never been this good this quick.

You tighten your grip on the sheets, arching your hips as far as Rooster will let you, and it’s not very far at all. Just an inch, but you take it, using it to drag your cunt over his mouth, hoping, begging, and praying for more friction so you can just fucking come already.

Rooster figures out what you’re doing.

He pats your thigh. “Stop that, I’m trying—trying to savour it.” You whimper, “’um sensitive.” “From what? I’ve barely touched you.” “Ex—” you shudder, “—Exactly.”

And it’s then that Rooster decides to drag his mouth up and suck your clit into his mouth, causing a disastrous wave to shatter over you. “Fuck!” you yell, the tail end of it twisting into a sob as you clamp your hands over your mouth. It feels so good that it hurts.

“Please,” you whisper. You push your hand into his hair. Scrape your nails over his scalp. “Rooster, please – let me catch up.” He must hear something in your voice because he slows down. Slows to a stop, actually, before he pulls away, letting you catch your breath. As you breathe in deep, he leans over you, reaching to collect a pillow. On the way back, he kisses you softly.

“Too much too soon?” You nod against his mouth. “Sorry baby, ‘um being piggish. Budge up, let’s do this properly.”

You push yourself up and rest your head back on the pillow, just as he pushes one below your hips. When he goes back between your legs, he takes it slow.

Trails a line of kisses over your inner thighs, sucking bruises into the delicate skin as his palms stretch you open again, spreading you so he can see everything.

His soft kisses set your skin alight, a thin sheen of sweat building from how slow and leisurely he was being. The feeling builds and spreads over you steadily until you’re arching your hips up, whispering his name into the warmly lit bedroom.

Nails scratching over his scalp, your thighs coming up to clamp around his head but Rooster’s pushing them back, keeping them locked open as he works over you with his wide, flat tongue and skilled fingers.

Whispering against you, saying Shhh, pretty. Saying that’s it, and you’re fidgeting, gasping as he hits the right spot and fuck, it spurs Rooster on. Makes him nuzzle his nose against your clit and push his tongue into your hole, forcing you to curse his name and moan, high pitch and breathy.

“Mm,” you hum, shaking your head at the ceiling. “Fuck—oh shit,” you breathe, hand coming to your mouth, trying to be as quiet as possible even though it’s just the pair of you – is always just the pair of you, when it’s like this.

You bite into your palm, moaning around the skin as heat pools at your lower back. You clench together, spare hand clutching the duvet, and you grind up into his face, smearing his chin and lips with your slick.

“Fuck,” you spit, moving your hand again, not knowing what to do with yourself, and Rooster takes it and shoves it against his head, your fingers immediately coming to take a hold of the brown strands. You pull and Rooster obeys, moving upwards, tongue lapping at your clit until he sucks at it.

“Ohmygod,” you rush. White hot lightning shoots through you, your back aching and arching and you grab a hold of his hair, whining his name.

“Rooster, s’so good.” He groans, “say that again.” “You’re – I’m not. Not—” you gasp, arching into him. “—Not f-feeding your ego.”

He cackles, the sound exploding through him. Drags to a stop, and you whine, regretting ever opening your mouth.

“Please,” you whisper, trying to buck your hips and Rooster smiles. Starts mouthing at your inner thigh, mumbling out, “being mean to me baby, I don’t think I should give you what you want.”

Fuck you and your big mouth, because even if you were sensitive before, you want him now more than ever. Spent so long waiting for it, moaning his name into your palm as you made yourself come, and now that he’s here – you shake your head. “No Rooster – “you start, but he’s back where he was before, except now it’s quick and desperate, his tongue sliding your slick and his spit over your clit before he sucks it back into his mouth and you choke out, “Fuck! Shit, Jesus Christ,” as Rooster laughs.

The build-up had you panting, but now that he’s gunning for it, it’s new – it’s nearly overwhelming.

“mn’my god, I’m gonna come – Rooster, Rooster, Roos, I’m,” and your eyes roll back, hips arching up, your fingers in his hair pulling tight and he moans, nodding, sucking at your clit, breathing loudly and it’s wet and desperate and you’re coming, the feeling tight and all-consuming until it explodes, washing over you as your body shakes.

“Roos,” you whisper, the nickname you only use when it’s dark and he’s working you over so good, and then your brain goes blank, nothing but obscenities and the truth spilling out, 

ohmygod, ohgod, thank you. Shit, fuck – my’god, it feels so fucking good. Rooster. I swear, I’m. you’re – I’myoursimyoursimyours.

And you don’t have time to breathe, don’t have time for the feeling to let up before he’s pulling away, making you whine, then whine into his mouth as he reaches up to kiss you, pulling your legs tight around his waist, your wet pussy dragging across his stomach as you grind against him, the oversensitivity catching up with you.

You’re weeping at him.

All warm and gooey and loose-limbed from coming, and now Rooster’s kissing you, spreading you over your own mouth as he slips his tongue in, groaning from the taste and feel of you.

“Okay?” he whispers against your lips, and you nod, blissed out. Rooster slowly pulls away from you. He gets a look at you half naked and glowing from the comedown. Looks down at himself, and nearly cries when he sees your slick all over his top.

“Made a mess all over me, pretty girl,” he tuts, sitting on your thighs and reaching down to take his t-shirt off. You see his chest in the orange glow of the room.

See his muscles flex as he stretches up, his dog tags falling out of the fabric and resting on his neck. When his head comes out of the shirt, he drops it somewhere on the floor, and you’re left with a completely naked Bradley Bradshaw straddling your hips.

You suddenly feel overdressed, and with numb fingers, you reach down to try and pull your top off. You tug at the fabric, but it’s no use.

“Can’t,” you mumble, limbs jelly, and Rooster laughs down at you. You look up at him with a pout, giggling at his goofy expression. “Too good, huh?” he jokes, and you stretch up, rolling your wrists and wiggling your toes. “Can’t feel my toes yet.” “Lemme help you,” and he gets your shirt off, throwing it with his things. You manage to tug the straps down, but Rooster has to help un-hook your bra. You lay back down, and Rooster immediately bends down, kissing your right breast as you hold the other, running your thumb over your nipple. 

You fool around like that for what feels like hours. Giggling as he nuzzles his nose into a sensitive spot and gasping when he runs his teeth over It seconds later, body arching into his.

At some point, you notice the mirror on the wall beside the bed. Your eyes ghost over the glass, seeing the pair of you reflected in it – Rooster’s naked body hovering over yours, running his kisses over your cheek until he turns to what you’re staring so intently at. He immediately smiles.

“The other night, I had this dream about you,” he whispers against your cheek. “Yeah?” you whisper back, using the mirror to look at him. He’s so large. Muscular and tall, his body dwarfing yours in the mirror. “Mmm,” he hums, and his hand comes out, sliding over your waist. You feel it and see it, and it doubles the sensation. You make a small sound – one of shock and delight. Rooster hums, “—and it involved a mirror, too.” “Yeah?” you manage to whisper back again, too busy thinking about him fucking you in front of the mirror. Thinking about him pushing your cheek against the glass, giving you a front-row seat to the act.

“What if we—” he starts. “Yeah,” you quickly but in. Twist to look up at him. Rooster’s brows rise, “Yeah?” he whispers back, in awe. You nod, have to, before you change your mind.

So, that’s how you end up perched on Rooster’s lap, both of you facing the mirror. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, hands keeping you steady on his thick thighs, and he pushes his face against the side of yours, mouth meshed into your cheek.

His eyes flick to yours in the mirror, making sure you’re watching as his hands push your thighs apart. The cool air hits your damp pussy, and the tug of his hands stretches you open, letting the pair of you see your skin that’s wet with your slick and spit.

The air hums with your shared desperation, but Rooster’s taking his time.

Dragging out the moment with his deep stare and trained hands. Still sensitive from coming just minutes ago, his thick fingers brushing over the delicate skin of your inner thighs have you whimpering.

He grabs a palm full of your skin and uses it to tug you back against him, causing your ass and cunt to drag over his hard cock. The feeling goes to your swollen clit, forcing you to clench down, a sigh falling from your lips and Rooster sees.

Sees everything.

“Mm,” you hum, turning to face him instead of looking in the mirror. Rooster’s not having it, though. He hums an appreciative laugh, using a hand to take your chin and turn you back to the glass. Kisses you on your neck, chin, cheek, and whispers, “look at how pretty your pussy is, baby.”

Your eyes go down to his fingers, watching them slide inwards. Feel him brush against your heat, and he spreads you open, his mouth parting as he whispers, “look at that.” And you do. You do what he says. You watch as he lets go, too, and brings his fingers up to your mouth.

“Spit,” he orders, and you do that, too. Don’t even question it.

Why would you when you both know what you want?

Rooster watches as spit dribbles into his palm, and you watch as he brings it down between your legs and spreads it over your already wet slit, soaking you enough that it slides down your ass, leaking onto his thighs.

So fucking turned on that there’s so shame there.

No embarrassment, because Rooster’s looking at you with these dazed and dilated eyes, and it's intoxicating. He uses a few fingers to mindlessly rub at your clit, barely catching the nerve before sliding one through your slit, pushing just the tip into your swollen hole.

“I’m gonna make you come again, and you’re gonna watch, okay?”

Funny, how you fall into these familiar routines. These familiar patterns. Rooster would never dare talk to you like this in the field. Now, though, you’re chomping at the bit.

You swear you’re somewhere else.

Here, but not here. Feel all of his skin against yours, hearing him, but God, the way he’s looking at you in the mirror – all dark and deep and teasing – you’re in another dimension. It’s making you soft and malleable. Making your fingers tingle and your brow furrow as you try to calm yourself down.

Rooster watches as you pout and take a deep breath, sliding your hips back on his crotch and his hand follows, and the sensation triples when you feel his cock against the bottom of your pussy.

Rooster clenches his jaw at the feeling, humming as he grins, “or I can just fuck you now.” “Please,” you whisper, the word immediately coming out of your mouth. You slide back against his cock again, trying to be gentle, but god, you want the friction. Rooster feels it, and he hums, smiling against your cheek.

“You don’t wanna see?”

He slides his fingers through your slit, pushing his thick fingers against your clit. The deliberate movement forces your hips to jerk up, but Rooster keeps them steady with a tight grip on your inner thigh. He glances at you in the mirror, “You don’t wanna see how wet you get when you come?”

There’s something different about this moment. Something different about this interaction.

Drunk on him, spurred on by the distance between the pair of you – even if you have been working together. Seeing each other every damn day. Rooster looks at you. Takes you in, and says,

“Yeah, you do. Nod your head for me.”

You nod. Of course, you fucking nod.

“Yeah?” he asks, and his voice is filled with awe. “Yeah Bradley,” you confirm, and he kisses your cheek quick. The sweetness of the act makes you gooey, sticky, and sweet. But Rooster’s eyes get cloudy like he’s changed his mind about something. The smile he’s wearing twists into a smirk as pushes his cheek against yours and looks at you in the mirror, “Say, yes please.”

Secretly, you love it when he gets like this. You pout, annoyed at him, but you want it, and if Rooster wants you to be polite for him to get it, then polite you’ll be. “Yes please,” you whisper, and his smirk triples ten-fold. Kisses you softly, asks, “okay?” and you nod, pushing to kiss him again.

It’s then that he chooses to slide his fingers over your sensitive clit, making you sigh into his mouth. You fumble for him, one hand pushing into his inner thigh and the other reaching for his arm. “’ um’ gonna go slow, baby, okay?” he whispers, voice low and soothing. “Please.” “’ um’ gonna make it good.” “You, always--” you breathe, the brush of his touch making you clench up tight. “—Make it, good.”

Talking through tight gasps because you’re still sensitive from before. Still wet from his spit and your slick, and he oh so slowly pushes it inside of you, using his spare hand to take your chin and turn it to the mirror, forcing you to watch him push his fingers inside of you.

You make a high-pitched whining sound.

With your hands tight on your spread thighs – fingers curling into your skin – and his hand splayed over your throat and chin to keep you steady, you see it all. See how deep his fingers go, how easily you take them, and the way he watches it happen in the mirror, his eyes cloudy and lips parted. 

Have to lean back on him, have to drag an arm behind him and you lock it around his shoulders, fingers in his hair -- this new position spreading you wider.

“You comfortable, baby?” he asks, kissing you under your jaw. His fingers are inside of you, hand still spread over your throat – you’ve never been more vulnerable, and yet. “Yes,” you whisper and swallow against his hand. “Good,” he grins. “Because I’m gonna have to let your throat go. But you’re gonna stay there, aren’t you? Gonna stay steady for me.”

Yes, you wordlessly reply. Give him a small, short nod, and he lets go. Slowly drags his hand down, coming between your thighs, and you’re already full of his fingers, but now he’s teasing your wet clit.

Gently, trying to figure out how you want it – how much you can take.

He rolls the sensitivity out of you, hitching his fingers in such a way that he’s hitting your nerve directly, and you clench your fingers around his hair. Thighs shake, and you try and pull them inwards, but he smacks them back.

Laughs at your feeble attempt and says, I’ll stop if it’s too much. But it’s not that. It’s not enough.

You stretch your thighs as far as they’ll go, and his fingers sink deeper. Make you moan out his name, breathless and wanting. Rooster smirks against your neck and flicks his eyes up. Catches yours in the mirror and whispers,

“Look at how pretty you look with my fingers inside of you.”

You’re looking. God are you. Watching his eyes go cloudy, go desperate as he begins to swirl his fingers faster. Heat spreads through you. That familiar ache begins to build as he swirls and swirls and pushes. 

Keeps on going. Your body warms up, gets ready for the eventual, and you want it. Want to come and watch it happen, but shit.

You’re rutting against his hand, the two fingers he’s got inside of you pushing deeper, rubbing against your walls as you roll your hips. Ass pushing against his dick, too, and you feel it hard and thick beneath you, sliding between your cheeks.

See the tip of it, and you try and keep all of your weight in your thighs, try not to push against him, but the friction is too good, too necessary, and fuck, how have you not come yet?

How have you not come yet when he’s basically finger fucking your cunt and swirling your wet clit in these tight, controlled circles, and you’re in your head. So in this moment that you can’t let go, watching yourself, watching him groan and moan into your shoulder.

Rooster’s not rushing, he’s not going anywhere, but your skin is too hot, thighs aching too much, lower back burning and your clit is throbbing, it’s begging, it’s screaming, and you burst.

“Shit, Roos, I can’t, “you sob, shaking your head, tears pricking behind your eyes because you want it so bad. Have never wanted it like this, and you sag against him, fingers loosening in his hair and Rooster sees you faltering. Sees you giving up, then hears it when you turn to him, pouting, frustrated with yourself. “I can’t come.”

His eyes go soft.

You shake your head, voice quiet but wrecked -- “’ m’ so close but I can’t.”

Rooster must see it, because he kisses you quick, mumbling, “I got you, sweetheart,” before he’s pulling you up and round. He folds you over the bed, big palms hoisting your hips up, and you’re thinking, this is better, this is immediately better, while he takes his cock and lines it up with your swollen hole.

I got you, he’s mumbling, I got you, baby, gonna make it good, gonna make it so good for you -- cock slides between your folds, and you break, his real name pushing at your lips.

“Bradley,” you sob, nodding your head into the mattress.

You grip the duvet, legs spreading wider, and he groans deep. Says your name back to you, finding the right speed, the right angle, and shit, you gasp, because he’s hitting something devastating right now. Dick pushed up inside of you, fucking up in tight, rolling strokes.

Fingers pushing into your skin, nothing but your name on his lips as he fucks that spongey part inside of you that only a handful of people have hit.

Your legs start shaking, spit soaking the sheets as you grip it with your teeth, and Rooster’s watching it happen. Witnessing something carnal wash over you. He’s never been more turned on in his life. 

He gives you a hard, tight thrust, grunting, “is that it, baby?” and you sob, yes, into the blanket.

He gets giddy. Gets proud. Never happened to him before, and for it to happen with you. Well.

You gasp, the sound shocked and loud, your head turning behind to get a look at him. He’s beaming. Muscular chest red, jaw tight, eyes blazing – tags bouncing against his chest as he fucks you – and he catches your eye line. 

Smirks, before you whimper and clench around him, and his face is falling, twisting into a snarl as he groans, loud enough that it rattles through you.

“Jesus Christ,” he spits, and you fumble behind, nodding and sobbing into the sheets, silently asking for him to take your hands. He catches them, collects them at your back, and you can’t fidget, can’t run from it, have to take and take and take until finally, it gives.

Washes up and drags you under, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you’re silent. 

Completely fucking silent as you squeeze around his cock, until you’re not, until you’re talking, sobbing, shaking, moaning so fucking loud and it’s all sounds, strung out sounds that sort of, kinda, sound like words – too fucked out to be coherent. Babbling about him, babbling on and on about Rooster and it’s m’fucking God, you’re so good. I’m yours, m’ all yours, m’ all fucking yours, and Rooster comes. Comes hot and hard into your cunt, the white of it dribbling out as he fucks you, watching it slide down your shaking thighs. 

His grunts fill the room, grunts, moans, and sobs of, so fucking pretty, my pretty girl, and you’re on cloud nine. Spent, still shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you’re beaming.

Full, so fucking full as he stays inside of you, pushed up tight, and his head finds your shoulder, his body bending over yours. 

His laboured, deep breaths blow hot air over your shoulder, and it soothes the spit from his kiss as he works his mouth over your back, not daring to pull out. Can’t. Feels too good. 

He feels exhausted – feels spent, but you’re so warm and tight. Familiar. 

So fucking familiar.

“Jesus Christ,” you gasp, coming back to life. Rooster nods, smoothing his hands over your hips and ass, kneading his knuckles into the muscle as he slides out. “Mm,” you hum at the loss, thighs pushing together to quell the loss of him. 

His come leaks out of you, and when you relax your legs, he sees it smeared over the tops of your inner thighs. Using his wide palms, he turns you so you’re on your back, looking up at him in a daze. His smile is brilliant.

“You feel okay, baby?”

You nod, before reaching up to him with grabby hands. Rooster pulls you up, then pulls your body against him, keeping you steady. He kisses your cheek, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

[thebradleybradshaw]

a-z nsfw prompt | b. bradshaw

synopsis: nsfw alphabet for b. bradshaw (18+ MINORS DNI!!)

note: thirsty bitches only !! byeeee i blacked tf out writing this. this was highly requested, i hope i did it justice!! likes, comments, & reblogs are always appreciated. have fun and stay thirsty xx

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Rooster is completely exhausted after sex. He’s glistening from sweat and completely spent. He likes to dramatically lay there, huffing his breath, bragging about ‘how good’ it was. He’s dying for a compliment, hinting at you to also talk about just how mind blowing that experience was. Once the adrenaline has died down he becomes clingy. He makes sure that you’re cleaned up and assesses any damage he may have done, leaving little ‘sorry’ kisses wherever a bruise seems to appear. Once the cleaning process is done he’s curled up next to you, looking at you with such puppy dog eyes you’re ready to explode.

This is typically when the pillow talk happens. Now that he’s more relaxed he’s more open to talking about things. He’ll just spew out everything that has been on his mind as he absentmindedly plays with your hair. It’s quite endearing to watch him ramble on and on without any end in sight. Don’t even consider moving or getting up. The second he feels you shifting his arms are locked around you and he’s whining. “I don’t think so, honey.”

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Rooster is extremely proud of his hands. He’s a pilot after all. His hands control an entire airplane. One slip of the wrist and he’s fucked. His hands hold so much power in and out of work. He finds it humorous just how weak in the knees you get from his touch. Whether it’s a soft caress of your cheek, squeeze of your ass, or a strong choke - you love his hands. He has the shape and feel of your body completely burned into his brain, but still likes to take his time to explore further. You particularly like the callouses that form after his workouts.

On you, he’s a big fan of boobs and hips. It doesn’t matter the size - A to GG cup - he’s foaming at the mouth. He’s constantly buying lingerie, night gowns, or sports bras just so he can stare at them as you walk around the house. Your hips are more specific. Not just your hips, but that spot below your hips before your thighs -its delicious. It’s a place he’s holding onto for dear life when he’s being particularly rough. There’s constantly fingerprint shaped bruises in that area. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

In the beginning of the relationship Rooster advocated for safe sex. He always wore a condom. There was no room for potential pregnancy scaries. It was just sex- two horny people who were constantly in the mood. It wasn’t until a year later that things became different. He looked around the room, checking every possible drawer for a condom. THe two of you had completely depleted the box. It would take too long to buy a new box, and he needed sex now. He nervously asked you if you would be okay skipping the condom. After much consideration, you decided to have at it. You never changed your mind. The first time Rooster was able to feel you completely he made a sound that came from Heaven above. It was a pathetic whimper that lit a flame you never knew you had. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's always wanted to make a movie. He wants to be able to watch over and over again. The way you move, the way you sound. He wants to keep a video on his phone whenever he needs to hear you, but you're not there. What keeps him from asking is the fear of it being leaked. It would embarrass him completely if it did. But, he does contemplate how much money the two of you could make with it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s had sex before - that much is for sure. Does he know everything? To an extent. Sex in the beggining was clumsy and a learning process. You had to learn what each other liked and didn’t like. However, once he knew something you liked - he never forgot it. His mental index card holds every position, feeling, and words that make you lose control. The more comfortable he got with you, the more he started asking to do new things. It’s not uncommon to be yeeted about the room as Rooster figures out the next surface to fuck on.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Oh, there’s a few.

Missionary - it’s a given. Having you underneath him gives him a power trip. You’re prey to his vices, trapped. He especially likes it when he wants to be as close as possible. He’s practically folding you into the mattresses as he tries to bury himself as deep as possible. He’s peppering kisses along your neck and ear, whispering sweet nothings and encouragement. He likes to feel your legs squeezing around his waist, your nails raking down his spine. It’s an absolute position for morning sex.

Cowgirl. Boobs. Rooster is below you and mesmerized by the way your tits bounce up and down with each thrust. He’s more quiet underneath because he’s so blown away he can barely breathe. It’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. He lays back with a grip on your waist and let’s you use him for whatever you need.

Face down, ass up - doggy. This is for when he’s feeling dominate and fiery. The sounds of hands smacking your ass are loud and echoing. He’s got a fistful of your hair in a makeshift ponytail. The other hand holds down your lower torso and he goes wild. You typically end up in this position if you’ve made him jealous. It’s the perfect way for him to put you in the place - no mercy just endless fucking.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really depends on the mood. If it’s a quickie before the two of you go to work he’s probably being a bit of an annoying tease, thinking it’s hilarious. He’s cracking jokes as the two of you calm down and try to get dressed for the day.

When the mood is more sultry he’s all serious. He’s making demands, praising, even possibly degrading. He’s the boss. There’s no room for silliness. You do what you’re told and that’s that. Although, that is more during anniversary or jealousy sex where Rooster is in more of a dominate mood.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His hair is beautifully sunkissed. The carpet only slightly matches the drapes. He’s darker and more curly. He’s big on grooming. It’s not completely gone, but it’s nicely shaved down. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Rooster can be so intimate to the point of cheesy. He just can’t help it. The bedroom is his safe space. It’s where he can be vulnerable and emotional. When he’s in a soft mood he’s placing kisses to your temple and neck, gently thrusting at an agonizingly slow place. He likes to take his time and enjoy the warmth and heat that radiates from you. It’s like a fuzzy blanket that creates tingles down his spine. It’s not uncommon to get a few ‘I love yous’ and he’s staring into your soul. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

It happens. If you’re gone on a trip or he’s on a mission, it’s what he resorts to. He has a high sex drive and few of your polaroids in his pocket. He usually does it in the shower to get his day started. But it could never beat the real thing with you. He also has an arsenal of nudes that he keeps on his phone is a separate album. Sometimes he just stares at it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Let’s discuss:

Bottom of the pyramid: hair pulling. It’s simple and it’s effective. He’s sandwiched between your thighs, eating away as if it’s his last meal. The first time you gave his hair a squeeze, he let out such a squeal you couldn’t help but do it again. The soft tugs on his hair seemed to give him more energy. You learned that by gently squeezing a fist into his hair he would release a delicious vibration that sent you right over the edge.

Middle of the pyramid: biting. It’s fun, it’s kinky. Since he always has to be clean and proper in his uniform, Rooster has created a game of leaving bite marks in places no one else could ever see. Pink and purple marks are scattered over your chest and torso. You find new ones every time you strip to take a shower. You’ll send a snap of the map of bite marks, where he replies with a simple “can’t wait to add more”. He’s gentle with his bites, but he likes for you to go full vampire. He wants to feel your teeth sinking into his shoulder as he’s pounding away on top. The sheer adrenaline and pain drives him an extra mile. As he’s changing into his uniform he swipes a finger over the bruise, reliving the fond memories of the night before.

And finally, the top: praise kink. This kink never fails to completely derail the two of you. Rooster is so starved for validation. All it takes is an ‘I’m so proud of you” and he’s bending you over the nearest surface. He’s had a rough day at work, everyone seemed to get on his last nerves. He was desperate to come home and hide away from the ick of the world. He came to you for a hug, an innocent simple hug to help make himself feel better. Your arms snaked around his neck, a hand resting on the newly cut, prickly hair at the base of his neck, “Aw honey, I’m sorry. I’m sure you did so good today, I’m still proud of you.” You made sure to keep your voice low as you dragged out the praise. His once tired muscles tensed up below you. Before you could register, you were being propped up onto the kitchen counter, Rooster practically tearing his uniform jacket from his body. He knew you were just teasing him, but he made sure to do something to make you exceptionally proud of him. As he always said, he ‘aimed to please’.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Work is, of course, completely off limits. He’s a man of privacy and reputation. The home? Fair game. Bathroom, kitchen, bedroom, living room. Every single part of your shared house has witnessed at least one sexual encounter. It was his mission to ‘bless’ each room of the house. Then there’s the truck. What’s more romantic than a gorgeous sunset on the horizon while being absolutely obliterated by your boyfriend? Nothing compares. As long as there is privacy, Rooster is all for it. He’s protective, he refuses to risk any chance of someone seeing you in such a private state. He really wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you got caught. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

All you have to do is ask. He’s watching you laugh at something your friend said, he’s hard. You’re in a bubble bath, hard. You’re innocently putting on clothes for an event, hard. You’ve almost become such a habit that he gets withdrawals after too long. Of course he understands if you’re not in the mood, or a bit too sore from the last time. But the minute you give him those fuck me eyes he’s all about it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that would cause you physical, deep pain. He respects kinks, but the protectiveness he feels for you would not allow him to participate. A little nimble and joking bite is soft. Anything with hitting or blood would cross his boundary. It’s just not something that he is interested in. He would respectfully say no and think of something else to try.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

It’s a two way street. His favorite sight is you on your knees, hair pulled back, and dick in your mouth. It’s beautiful, it’s feral. Your makeup is a mess and there’s a tear going down your cheek and he is done for. It’s something he constantly daydreams about. 

Rooster is a master with his tongue. He’s buried deep, airway constricted, and he goes to town. He never gets tired of your taste flooding his senses. He’ll go all night if you let him. The mustache adds a delicious burn that leaves you raw and aching. He’ll go until your voice is hoarse and you’re spent. It’s a hobby of his.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s fast and rough when the situation calls for it. If it’s angry, makeup, or jealousy sex you are fucked. He’s thrusting hard and fast, filth spilling into your ears, the sound of balls slapping skin all around you. He’s got a strong grip on your throat controlling your breathing. He’s teasing and degrading a bit, never letting you second guess who exactly you belong to.

In normal situations, it’s a gentle rhythmic pace. Rooster really likes to take his time. There’s kisses and whispers and soft touches. He’s complimenting you left and right. It’s the kind of rhythm that can last as long as the two of you possibly can. There’s no rush. He’s got the entire night free to do nothing but shower you in love and attention.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves them. Since he’s practically always in the mood, sometimes he needs a quick outlet to get it all out. Quickies are usually in the morning before he’s running late for work, lunch time when he randomly comes out, or before you all go out with friends. He doesn’t need much time, just enough to get the point across that he wants to fuck.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is always up for learning what you like, and what he likes. He typically won’t say no unless it crosses a personal boundary. He likes to keep things spicy and interesting so that it doesn’t get old and boring. He’ll surprise you with new lingerie or a new flavor of lube just because he thought it would add a little bit of fun.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Normally he’ll give it all and exhaust himself in one round. He gets it all out so that the two of you can spend the rest of the time relaxing and spending time together. Unless it’s quickies, he can last two rounds. There’s a point where it can become too long and things start getting uncomfortable. He keeps it about 40 minutes, taking his time, switching it up, so that you’re not getting too exhausted. Unless, of course, it’s one of those nights where he wants to take as long as he possibly can. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s got the basics: vibrator, cuffs, blindfold. The vibrator is solely for your use. It gives him a power trip to be in control of it. He’s changing the intensity, placing it anywhere rather than where you need it most. He’ll turn it off just when you can feel yourself getting ready to spill- just be an asshole. The cuffs are his favorite. When he lets you take the reigns he loves nothing more than to have his arms cuffed above his head. It gives an extra spice to watch you on top while he’s restrained. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Rooster is an asshole. He loves to get you all hot and bothered, give your hair a squeeze and place a sloppy, deep kiss to your mouth and then dip. “See you later, baby.” and he’s out the door. You’re left gasping and incredibly frustrated. He loves the way you glare at him as he’s walking out the door. It does nothing but add to his ego to know you’ll be waiting for him when he gets back, even when you try to say you won’t be.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s a cursor. “Oh my fucking God, you feel so good” “holy shit” “fuck, fuck, fuck” amongst others. They’re low grumbles that rattle your chest, and octave lower than his normal voice. He gets in your ear, barely whispering “I know you like that, baby”. He’ll never be loud enough for anyone else to  hear. He keeps his grunts soft and low. He’ll let out a growl here and there when he’s being pretty rough. A lot of the time he’s breathing deep, brows furrowed in concentration, mouth slightly open as if he’s taken aback by how good you look being fucked.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Rooster was pissed. Guys had flocked to you all night and you absorbed all of the attention you could possibly handle. It was innocent on your end, no matter what their intentions were. You were having fun. Rooster did not agree. He was angry, insulted, jealous. He was pretty much silent the entire ride home, knuckles glowing white from his grip on the steering wheel. He followed you into the house, locking the door behind him. He found you in your shared bedroom, beginning to undress.

“Get on your knees,” his voice finally rang out. His eyes were nearly black in the dim light as he stood before you. 

You smirked, “excuse me?”

Rooster wasn’t in the playing mood. “I said get on your knees,” he repeated, “I didn’t fucking stutter.” 

Every hair on your arm stood up at attention. Slicked pooled in your matching lingerie as you contemplated disobeying him. You decided against it, slowly dropping to the floor and maintaining eye contact. Rooster held no expression on his face, but there was a sinister gleam in his eye. He held you hair in a makeshift pony tail, guiding a hand to his belt. “Get to suckin’.”

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

We’ve all seen the beach scene. Rooster is absolutely fucking ripped. Abs that run for miles, arms that could squeeze a melon in half. Arm veins that are delicious. He’s fucking hot, point blank period. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s high. Almost annoyingly high. He enjoys sex. It can be fun, passionate, intense, whatever. He finds sex one of the best ways for him to show you his feelings. Sex is vulnerable and private and only you can see him in that position. Not to mention he just finds you extremely attractive and tends to think with his dick. It’s his favorite way to start and end a day.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Since he spends all of his energy fucking your brains out, he’s exhausted when it’s over. He takes a few minutes for aftercare before he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. He’s curled around you, still babbling on, as his voice begins to get quieter and quieter. He’s practically mumbling nonsense as he begins to fall asleep. And he always has the best rest of his life after sex. He’s satisfied, happy, and completely relaxed. You sometimes try to stay up just to look at his peaceful figure, but you’re just as spent as he is.

[halfway-happyyy]

cool my desire (rooster bradshaw)

AN: hi friends! i got sent this message a couple days ago and have been obsessing about it ever since. 18+ only! this piece is under a cut for obvious (sexual) reasons. warnings include: public oral sex (f receiving) masturbation (f&m), dirty talk, swearing, etc. hope you enjoy 💕

Pairing: rooster bradshaw x female reader (she/her pronouns)

song inspo: i'm on fire - bruce springsteen

Of two things Rooster Bradshaw is absolutely certain: the first one is that he is helplessly in love with the woman sitting directly opposite him. The second one is that she’s just announced that she’s never had an orgasm. He thinks he misheard her the first time around, so he strains above the rock music blaring from the bar's jukebox and asks her to repeat herself.

“I've never had an orgasm.”

It exits her mouth in the kind of nonchalant way in which one might announce that it's raining outside, or that they're hungry.

Rooster glances at Hangman who wears the same confused expression, and suddenly she laughs, and Rooster reckons it’s a sound he'd be happy to listen to until his dying day.

“Gosh, if I got compensated for every time I got the same reaction I could retire and live happily on a private island somewhere. For some reason it’s a concept most people have a hard time coming to terms with.”

Bob is just as floored as the rest of the gang. He pushes his wire-frame glasses farther up the bridge of his nose and asks, “When you say never?”

Rooster watches her shrug.

“It’s been my experience that in the heat of the moment, most people just don’t care.”

And Rooster suddenly thinks- I care.

Coyote tips back the rest of his beer, setting the bottle on the wooden tabletop with a resounding clank. “I’d accept this challenge any day, and all I would need is ten minutes to do it.” He tosses her a wink and Rooster’s cheeks flame from equal parts envy and second-hand embarrassment.

“Wow, Coyote. Ten minutes only? Not exactly selling the experience here, are you?” Her teasing tone and wry smile causes the rest of the group to dissolve into fits of low whistles and peeling laughter.

“Wait- so you mean to tell all of us that you fly combat planes for the United States Navy for a living and you’ve never experienced an orgasm?” Hangman’s Texan drawl is incredulous.

She nods her head, her dazzling gaze narrowed. “I can’t imagine how the two are related, but yes Jake, that is what I’m saying.”

“I think it’s sad.” Bob murmurs lowly and Rooster can't help agreeing with him. “More people could benefit from taking the time to consider their partner’s pleasure.”

Hangman snorts. “Sex is sex, Bob. Remind me again which fairy tale you’ll be reading before bed tonight?”

“Yikes Jake. I pity anyone who has the misfortune of sharing a bed with you.” She turns to Bob and offers the unassuming pilot a reassuring smile. “Thanks Bob.”

Rooster clears his throat, suddenly self-conscious of the fact he chose not to partake in the festivities this evening. “For what it’s worth, I think Bob’s right. Making sure your partner gets there is most of the pleasure already. At least for me, anyway.”

Hangman slaps his hand on the table twice, his expression triumphant. “Well, there you have it, kid. If you ever get desperate for a lesson, I’m sure any one of us would be happy to offer our enthusiastic assistance.”

She laughs again, and this time it causes goosebumps to bloom on Rooster’s arms. “How generous of you, Jake. Guess I’d have to be pretty damn desperate though, huh?”

Despite every effort, Rooster doesn’t get much sleep that night. Instead, he spends most of his waking moments trying not to think about how she would look spread out before him, ready and waiting and so willing to do anything he tells her. His cock swells at the mere thought of it all, and he knows the only way rest will come for him is if he carves himself out a shred of release. It won't be enough, but it'll be something. Snaking his hand down the front of his body, he palms the erection straining the crotch of his briefs.

“Fuck,” He breathes out and dips a hand beneath the elastic waistband to pump slowly along the length of his thick shaft.

His eyes fall shut as he pictures her before him; can practically see her arousal drip from her as she touches herself the way he wants her to- the way he knows will have her coming undone for him. Spitting into the palm of his hand, he continues working steadily along his cock. He swipes the rough pad of his thumb over his sensitive slit, swirling the pre-come around it and reveling in the feeling of it as it drips down the underside of his shaft. “Oh god,” He whines out into the still air before him while he shamelessly fucks his fist. He imagines her fucking herself on her fingers; imagines the filthy noises that fall from her lips the closer she gets to her rapture; imagines that he is the sole orchestrator of her pleasure and all of it is enough to get him there. His hips rut desperately into his tight fist, his head falls back against the pillow in unbridled ecstasy, and he comes hard all over himself, his lower abdomen painted with his hot, sticky seed.

Sleep descends on him heavily after that.

~

“Would you like to go for a drive with me?” It’s been over a week since he’d first thought of her, and he asks her on a whim because he knows if he doesn’t do it soon, he’ll regret it for a lifetime.

She looks hesitant; doesn’t know which angle he’s playing at which is fair, because he’s not entirely sure either. “A drive?” She asks, her head cocked to the side.

Rooster nods. “A drive. We can get drinks or food, whichever you prefer.”

So, she agrees. They drive to a local pizza joint, pick up a large ham and pineapple pie (though Rooster detests the ungodly yellow fruit) and park on a deserted end of beach, their legs hanging off the back end of Rooster’s 1975 Ford Bronco.

“I’m fairly certain I can do it.” He squints out at the setting orange sun as it sinks low over the Pacific Ocean before them.

She washes down the last bite of her pizza with a swig of beer from their shared bottle, her eyebrow quirked high in amusement. “Do what?” She asks, but the glint in her eyes tells him she knows exactly what he’s referring to.

Rooster turns to her, his jaw set. “Give you an orgasm.”

She shakes her head, folds her arms across her chest in defiance. “Believe me, Rooster. Many a brave soul have tried and failed before you. I reckon I may just be broken.”

He gives his head a half-shake. “You’re not broken.”

It’s certainly not your fault no one’s ever taken the time to learn your body.

“Can I tell you something?” She asks, her voice quiet.

Rooster nods.

“That night at the bar last week, when I so readily shared with everyone that I had never had one?”

Rooster nods again, encouragingly.

“I went home and I touched myself.” Her admission is so quiet, Rooster almost misses it.

He swallows hard- tries in vain to keep his voice level, even. “You touched yourself?”

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and nods her head. “I was thinking of you.”

It’s Rooster’s turn to bite his lip to keep from groaning out into the humid air before him, and his cock stirs in the crotch of his jeans. “What were you thinking about?”

Her cheeks redden in embarrassment and God, Rooster doesn’t know what to do with himself. “I was thinking about your fingers, your mouth, your cock. I was thinking about how good it would feel to finally be able to come for you.”

“Jesus,” Rooster breathes out. “Did you finish, sweetheart?”

“No.” She murmurs, her tone thick with disappointment.

He gives his head a half-shake, his hazel gaze sharp. “That just won’t do, will it?” Slipping off the edge of the truck, he turns to her, and the urge to reach out and touch her is almost too much to bear. “I want you to show me.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“I want you to show me the way you touched yourself.”

She glances around at the barren beach, silently weighing the pros and cons of his demand. “Right here?”

“Right here.” Rooster affirms.

Leaning back, she hikes the sundress she’s worn over the tops of her thighs and Rooster’s throat dries like sandpaper when he notices she’s forgone underwear for the evening. He watches with half-lidded eyes as she sucks two fingers into her mouth- gets them nice and slick with her spit, and then dances them slowly down the front of her body to her clit. Rooster braces his arms on either side of her legs and watches her work her magic. She starts off slow, by pressing firm, steady circles into her swollen bundle of nerves. Just as he had predicted over a week ago, her arousal nearly drips from her slit and he has to take a deep breath to center himself to keep from swiping a fingertip down the length of it. He just knows it tastes heavenly. His cock jumps at the mere thought of tasting her- and he doubts he’ll be able to put off touching himself for much longer.

“How does that feel, sweetheart?”

Her eyes flutter closed and all she can manage is a low, desperate mewl.

“You want more?” Rooster asks and all she can do is nod her head. “Give yourself more, then.”

She does as she’s told and inserts a finger into her hot, wet core, and it’s all Rooster can do to keep from groaning out, loudly. “Like this?” She gasps, and he nods above her in approval.

“Exactly like that, sweetheart. Keep going.”

“Wish it was your cock,” She whimpers, and Rooster swears to God, this is the sexiest thing he’s ever been privy to. Her words send what feels like every ounce of blood in his body to his dick, and he palms the front of his crotch, needily.

“It will be soon, baby. Just need to be patient. Need you to be a good girl and come for me.”

She inserts a second finger into herself and cries out at the full sensation, her other finger still pressing roving circles into her clit. Rooster peppers kisses over her the expanse of her exposed collarbone, encouraging her through it all. “That’s it, sweetheart. You’re doing so good. You keep going like this, and you and I’ll both be coming apart in no time.” It’s quiet while he studies her; the only audible noise between them are the obscene sounds her fingers make as she fucks herself with them, and the sweet moans that rip from her throat every couple of seconds. Rooster can feel her start to tremble beneath him; he watches her eyes widen as the realization becomes apparent to her. “That’s right, sweetheart. You’re so close,” Nodding in encouragement, he watches a thin sheen of perspiration bloom over her chest and neck, her lips part and her head drops back, and he doubts she’s ever looked more breathtaking. “Don’t stop now, you’re so close…” He whispers in earnest. “I’ll get you there, I promise.”

Her hands are all but frenzied movement now as she’s trembles violently beneath him and he presses his lips to her temple to keep her grounded to him. “Rooster,” She gasps. And he nods against her.

“If its time, let go. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

Her fingertips grasp at the impossibly hard, warm skin of his shoulder blades. She clasps on to him for dear life as pleasure blooms inside of her like fireworks on a warm July evening, and Rooster’s doesn’t know how much longer he’ll last like this. “Fuck, I’m going to come, Rooster.” She throws her head back and finishes hard around her fingers, her entire body quaking from the effort that took. Rooster holds her to him while she comes down from her high, her body entirely alive and electric with sheer energy.

“God, you did so good just now.” Rooster’s voice is hoarse and wrecked and thick with lust. “Look at you,” He whispers and presses a kiss to her flushed cheek. “How did that feel?”

She swallows hard, still in a bliss-induced trance. “I can’t believe it…”

Rooster chuckles against her. “You ready for one more?”

Before she can answer, he pulls her to the edge of the truck, dropping to his knees in the warm sand. His cock throbs uncomfortably and he brushes a rough palm over it to glean some form of friction. He hovers above her soaked entrance; the sheer, heady scent of her is nearly enough to have him coming in his jeans. He rubs the warm palms of his hands up and down the outside of her soft thighs and glances up at her. “May I show you another way?”

She nods wordlessly, with eyes half-lidded and blown over by hunger for him.

Rooster wants to take his time- wants to savour every single second of this in case it never happens again, but the urge to taste her is entirely overwhelming. He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to the velvet soft skin of her inner thighs and works his way up, the all-encompassing heat from her leaves him dizzy and breathless with want. He palms his erection, stroking it fervently through the fabric of his jeans and moans against her at the rough sensation of the denim on his sensitive skin.

“Are you touching yourself?” She asks, breathlessly.

Rooster swears to God, he feels her get a little more wet as he nods against her.

He licks a long, wet stripe up the length of her soaked slit with the flat of his tongue and nearly groans out at the taste of her. It’s an unendingly perfect combination of slightly salty and sweet, and he reckons he could get drunk off it if he had enough.

“Holy shit, Rooster.” She whimpers, and her fingers find purchase in his auburn hair.

He nods against her, and grazes his teeth over her swollen clit, earning him another obscenely sexy moan. “God, you taste good sweetheart.” He pulls away from her heat to tell her that, and his breath as it fans out over her warm wetness causes her to quake violently beneath him. He doesn’t allow her a moment of respite before he’s back at it, lapping at her folds like a she’s the most delicious treat on the planet. And to him, she is. His skilled fingertips dance along the length of her thighs, her hips, her ass. He wants to memorize every inch of her body that he can, lest he’s not lucky enough to experience her again.

“God damn it, you’re good at this Rooster.” She swears, and her thighs tighten involuntarily around his head. He grins against her, wickedly. Without warning, he inserts three thick fingers inside of her and the wonderfully full feeling they bring her causes her to cry out into the warm evening air before them. Rooster doesn’t give a flying fuck if anyone hears them at this point; they are exactly where they’re supposed to be. He could die doing this, and he would die a happy man. He fucks his fingers into her with reckless abandon; the first sign of her looming release is in the feeling of her clit against his tongue; how it swells and throbs the longer he sucks at it. “Oh, Rooster…” She keens, desperately. Her fingers tug at his hair, and the sharp burst of pain it brings him causes him to moan against her and the vibrations from that alone are all it takes before she’s falling off the precipice and into his willing arms. Rooster presses a free hand to her lower tummy as she spasms around the fingers still buried to the hilt inside of her and a flood of wetness bursts from her, soaking him and everything around them within a certain radius. Rooster's fingers fall from her, and she whimpers at the sudden loss of fullness. He rests his head in her lap, closing his eyes and trying to focus on regulating his breathing. He’s still so fucking hard right now, it’s a wonder he’s even upright at all.

“Jesus, Rooster, that was something else.” Her voice is raspy and shot from their recent activities and Rooster smiles softly as he listens to the fervent hammering of her heartbeat against the top of his head.

“Told you I could do it,” He laughs, breathlessly.

She giggles against him and his heart soars. “What about you, though?” She cards a hand through his damp hair.

“I’ll be alright.”

She shakes her head, her gaze knowing. “I want you, Rooster. And I’m going to have you.”

Of two things Rooster Bradshaw is absolutely certain: the first one is that he is helplessly in love with the woman beneath him. The second is that he doesn’t know when- and he doesn’t know how, but he is going to spend the rest of his life having her come apart for him like that.

[goldustwomun]

soul meets body (b.b.)

BASED ON THIS REQUEST...

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x gf!reader

summary: you begin to question whether there’s something wrong with you when bradley refuses to touch you, little did you know you’d got it all wrong.

warning: smut, obviously; masturbation, fingering, lots of sweethearts, some jokes; it wouldn’t be my writing if there wasn’t angst so prepare yourself; but a whole lot of fluff & praise to top it all off <3

wc: 3.6k+

note: this is based off of the above request!! fair warning, this is unedited, but it’s my first ACTUAL attempt at smut so be kind xx i literally intended for this to be a short blurb but it ended up being a monster of a oneshot so please enjoy & reblogs are much appreciated :))

update: finally edited :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN. Check my rules before hand!

“Where are you going?” 

“Somewhere! Anywhere!” you hurtled back, rifling through your closet for a pair of trousers or sweatpants or–  fuck, anything that you could wear to walk out of the door in a more decent state than you currently were, legs on display in the baby tee and frilly panties you had on.

You’d hoped the (admittedly scandalous) look would have tempted him, even a little bit, to place his hands on you. Even if it didn’t lead anywhere and all you did was kiss for a bit – you needed something, anything, and it was driving you crazy.

He’d been avoiding you like a plague anytime you tried to initiate something, whenever your hand crept a little too high on his thigh to be deemed appropriate, or you shuffled back into him when you were in bed together so your hips were pressed close. But he always came up with an excuse – either tired or busy or just not feeling it. 

So you were done – done humiliating yourself in front of the one person you used to feel the most comfortable with.

“Sweetheart, stop that,” he chided, voice soft and pleading. He stood by your side, watching as you shoved your foot into the wrong pant hole. Bradley couldn’t help but laugh, hiding behind his fist as you stumbled in between your angry movements, but your hard glare shut him up quick enough as he mumbled a stuttered apology.

“Will you tell me why you’re angry? What did I do?” he asked, and you pointedly ignored him, instead choosing to flip him off as you finally buttoned your jeans and turned towards his room door. You hated how he spoke to you, like you were a little child pouting at the cookie jar. 

You’d been spending the weekend at his place like you had countless times before, already having moved some of your necessities into his cupboards and by his sink. There were glimpses of your relationship all over his apartment, and all it did was make you want to rage harder every time you stumbled across them. 

“Come on, sweets, please,” he begged once more before sighing defeatedly and grabbing your arms so you’d have no choice but to look at him, explain what it was that had caused such a sudden outburst. 

You finally met his stare, taking in his dishevelled state – hair pointing in every direction and unzipped pants that you’d tried to get down minutes earlier. The two of you were curled up on his bed, watching a film like you always did on a Sunday night. Only, Bradley was highly invested in Maria’s singing of “Do, a deer, a female deer” to the Von Trapp children (you had put on ‘The Sound of Music’), but your mind had travelled elsewhere. 

You’d let the hand that was resting on his clothed stomach wander, just a little lower as you traced lazy circles into the soft material of his t-shirt. You thought you were being at least minutely discreet as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, mouthed kisses into the sensitive skin there. He’d squeezed your barely-covered hip in admonishment, but it only motivated you to try harder. 

Slipping your hand lower, you unzipped his pants, propping yourself up onto your elbow as you breathed, all sultry and hot, into his ear, “Bradley, please, I want you.” You’d thought it was quite good, had read and watched enough to know it was what guys liked to hear. But rather than throw you down on the bed and take you like you wanted, he’d clammed up instead, sputtering on about how he “didn’t think that was a good idea.” 

So here you were, caged in by his long limbs and silently fuming. “What did I do?” he repeated. There was a hardness in his voice that told you he wasn’t in the mood for excuses this time. You’d just have to embarrass yourself a little more. 

“Is there something wrong with me?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. If you said it any louder, you were certain you’d erupt into mortified flames. 

“What?” He was looking at you funny, like you’d grown a head or two in the time it took for you to speak.

“I said, is there something wrong with me?” You were more annoyed than upset now, hating that you had to repeat such ugly thoughts of yours. 

“No! God, no. Why would you even think that?” His hands moved to hold your face, rubbing soothing circles into the soft skin of your cheeks. 

“Because you won’t touch me!” you fired back, hating how he’d easily smothered the fire burning inside of you with such little effort. When it came to him, you had no control over yourself. You were like pliant putty, melting in his palms the moment he got close. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been trying to get you to fuck me for weeks, and– and– you just won’t! It’s like I’m diseased or something, Bradley, and I swear I’m fucking not!” 

You were breathing hard, all furrowed brows and pouting mouth. He didn’t say anything in defense of himself and his stupid, infuriating actions, so you continued. “So if I’m not diseased, there must be something else wrong with me, and I’d really like you to explain because it’s getting to be fucking exhausting, and humiliating, considering how much I’ve thrown myself at you!” 

He was shaking his head at you and you were struck by the urge to slap the crooked smile off of his perfect face. “There’s nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. You’re fucking beautiful, way out of my league, even. I mean, look at you,” he cooed, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. You were so, utterly, completely tense by then that you felt the aftershock of his lips zap right between your thighs.

You were fucked. 

Except, not really. 

“So then why won’t you–”

“Because you’ve never had sex before, and I wanted it to be special. I wanted it to be as close to perfect as I could get because you deserve it.” Now it was his turn to flush red out of embarrassment, like he couldn’t believe he’d just admitted his scheme to you. 

“I– What?” 

“I had it all planned out. Our anniversary is coming up soon, and I have some time off then, so I was going to make dinner, put on a movie, dim the lights a little – speaking of, I was going to install a light dimmer! Looked up how to and everything,” he vented. “I wanted– I want your first time to be something worth remembering.”

You grinned up at him, rising to the tips of your toes as your arms wrapped around his neck to bring the two of you closer. You kissed him long and slow as his own hands dropped to grip your waist. When you broke apart, finally needing air before one or the both of you passed out, you laughed at the confused look on his face.

It wasn’t every day that you had Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw at a loss for words.  

“So… you’re not mad?” he offered, pecking your cheek. 

“Me? Mad? Of course I still am, but I get it,” you replied, unwinding one of your hands to rest on his chest. “But listen to me carefully, Bradley, because I’m only going to say this once.” He nodded, the picture of concentrated seriousness. “I don’t need dinner, a movie, or dimmed lights. I don’t need something special or pre-planned or whatever you deem to be perfect for me. 

All I need is you. I’ll only ever need and want you,” you spoke the words against his lips, fingers already trailing down his front once more to tug at the loose waistband of his unzipped jeans.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay, sweetheart, I can do that for you.” He hurtled into action as he kissed you hard and fast, shuffling forward until the back of your legs hit the bed. His hands were in your hair, his tongue exploring your mouth, and you couldn’t help but curl your toes every time he moaned into you, feeling the vibrations rocket through your body. 

Bradley shoved you back until you fell against his covers. You laughed at how rushed his movements were, like if he didn’t feel your skin against his soon, he’d collapse in a whimpering heap. 

“I fucking love you, you know that right?” He undid the buttons of the obnoxious Hawaiian-printed shirt he had on, throwing it behind your head. He crawled onto his knees, caging you in with his arms and rock-solid body as he left sloppy, wet kisses down your neck, then across your collarbones. 

You were already shaking with anticipation. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t gone this far with him – you were a virgin, not virginal. But something about the way he kissed you, touched you, the visceral electric charge in the air – it felt different, and it felt fucking amazing. 

“Want these off you,” you mumbled against his lips, pushing his jeans as far down his hips as you could reach. He groaned in agreement, the two of you tearing a part so he could kick them off whilst you tugged your t-shirt off, nipples perking at the cool air. 

Bradley’s eyes widened at the sight before him: stretched out in front of him, you lay waiting, in nothing but your panties with miles of skin on display for him to bite, kiss, suck. 

He was in heaven, and he wanted to take you there, as well. 

Sure, he was staring at you, just about devouring you by sight alone, but you couldn’t get enough of him either, had already reached down between you to slip your fingers under your panties, stroke, slow and deep, against your clit. It took a moment for Bradley’s brain to catch up as he watched you, mouth hung open – either in shock or amazement, you couldn’t quite tell. 

“Fuck. That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praised, swiping your hair out of your face as he leaned forward to get a better look at your fingers working against yourself. You were moaning loud, now, crying out his name like a prayer. “Get yourself nice and wet, and I’ll see what I can do about that ache between your legs,” he promised with a short kiss on your lips. 

You nodded, stupidly enthusiastic, tugging your underwear down to be tossed aside so that you were bare underneath him. He swore under his breath, ducking his head down to nip at the skin around your nipples before tugging it into his mouth. He sucked and sucked and sucked and – fuck, you could come like this. 

“You gonna come, sweetheart? I haven’t even touched you yet, not really.” His voice was deliciously taunting and you did your best to shoot him your meanest glare, but it was hard considering how much you were shaking, hand moving faster and faster as your slick dripped down your trembling thighs. 

“Fuck– Fuck– Fuck,” you whimpered, eyes squeezed shut. Your unoccupied hand grabbed onto Bradley’s bicep, nails digging crescents into his skin – you wanted to see constellations all across his body by the time the two of you were done. 

And you were there, almost. Teetering at the pinnacle of a precipice that you knew would be worth it once you were on the other side, but your mind was going numb and your wrist was starting to get tired, so you pouted up at the fixated man above you, might have begged in between your mindless moans. 

The next thing you knew was your hand had been nudged to the side, and Bradleys fingers slipped between your folds, collecting the juices there before fucking them back inside you. You were going to combust, you were sure of it. Fuck constellations on his skin because you were already seeing them against your eyelids as your fingers struggled to remain still, your hips bucking off his mattress the moment his thumb joined in on the fun, pressing against the tight bundle of nerves you could feel throbbing alongside your heartbeat. 

You came on his fingers in no time, the two of you panting, hot breaths mingling between you. Bradley leaned down, nipped at your bottom lip as your mouth was left open, too exhausted to even think. He held the glistening tips of his fingers, drenched in your slick, up to your face. Your eyes opened in time to watch him slip them into his mouth, groaning at the heady taste of you, you, you.

“I love you,” you croaked, surging forward to melt against him as you licked into his mouth, tasting all of yourself on his tongue. 

“Fuck, that was hot.” His voice was rough like gravel and it grated against your skin in a way you’d never experienced before. You squirmed beneath him, snapping the waistband of his briefs against his hip bone. 

“Off,” you commanded, determined to not let the momentum wane. He raised his brow at you, never having heard you so defiant, especially not when the two of you were in bed. You leaned up on the palm of your hand, the other tilting his head to the side as you sucked bruises into his chest, into his collarbone, up his neck. “Please,” you added sweetly, not stopping your attack on his skin. 

“Jesus fucking christ– I’ll take them off but you’ll have to stop, sweets,” he grumbled, not entirely wanting you to stop but knowing it was only going to get better. You relented, toppling back with a huff as he stood up and off the bed, pushing his briefs down. 

Your gaze went straight to his cock. You could see where the precum was shining against the purple tip, traced your stare across the throbbing vein that ran down its side, mouth watered at the tufts of neat hair at the base. You were screwed.

“That is the plan,” he pointed out, a cheeky grin plastered to his face. You must have said out loud and you retaliated with a kick to his exposed chin. He caught your ankle before you could make contact, clicking his tongue at your inability to sit still. “I won’t fuck you if you don’t play nice,” he scolded, tone unforgiving as he dropped your ankle and instead, reached into his bedside drawer to pull out a condom.

He looked you in the eye as he ripped the packet open, rolling it down his prick in smooth and precise movements. Like before, you really think you could come just watching him. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, and this wasn’t the first time you found yourself thanking whatever higher power there was out there for letting you be this damn lucky. 

Bradley placed his knee onto the bed, assessing the situation. His cock bobbed, you could tell it was painful from the way his hands were balled in fists and how deep his breathing was, like he was trying to force his body to slow down, to relax – all for you.

“I think–” he cleared his throat, his nerves seeping into his words. “I think you should be on top. You’ll have more control, can stop when you want– go at your own pace,” he stated decisively before joining you on the bed. He laid back against the headboard, holding his hand out so you could slip your legs on either side of his waist. 

You didn’t sit down, not completely. “You’re sure about this?” you asked. His mouth quirked upwards as he tugged you closer, your chest falling against his. You could feel his heart hammering through his chest, through your own. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he shot back, palms smoothing idly up and down your hips.

“You know what I mean. We’re a partnership, you and I. I’m sure, just need to know you are as well.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it. Instead, he nodded, met your mouth with his. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m yours.”

Your hands were trembling when you reached for his aching cock, sitting up on your knees, hands wrapped around the base as you angled it to your opening. You were still slick from your fingers, from Bradley’s as well, and fuck were you ready. Ready to be so utterly connected to the one person you loved, the one person who understood you, probably better than you did yourself. 

He helped you, slipping his own hand around yours as you sank down slowly. You’d barely gotten past the tip before you stopped, eyes squeezed shut, now from the pain rather than pleasure. “I know, sweetheart, I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he soothed, placing barely-there kisses against your shoulder as you trembled in his arms. 

“Holy sh–shit,” you groaned, not expecting the shooting pain. You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like that, simply holding each other. You could imagine how hard, literally, it must have been for Bradley, but he never let even a flicker of frustration cross his face. He was entirely steady, unwaveringly there for you.

You shifted on your knees, sliding an inch or two down, and Bradley halted your movement with a tight grip on your waist. “You sure you’re good. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He was searching your face for anything, everything – any sign of discomfort or regret, even if it was slight. 

“It’s– fuck– it’s fine. It hurts a little less, let’s just try,” you managed to whisper. You took the rest of him, hiding your face in his neck as you did so, as the pain tore through you from the inside out. You knew it was going to hurt but, fucking hell, they’d never mentioned this in health class. You’d had things up there, toys, your fingers, Bradley’s fingers, but this was completely foreign to you. 

Throughout it all, Bradley held you close. His words and resolute presence never wavering. And eventually, after what could have been seconds, minutes, hours – you weren’t sure, the pain lessened enough for it to almost become pleasurable. You tested the waters, pulling your hips back, then forward.

The pained groan that fell past Bradley’s hips told you all you needed to know – even if it wasn’t entirely good for you, you’d do it again if only to hear him make that noise again. “Are you okay?” you mocked, rocking your hips, again, and again, and again. He couldn’t speak, mouths forming words that never made it past his lips. His head fell back, hitting the wooden frame as his blunt nails dug into the skin of your hips, of your ass, of whatever skin he could grab onto as you rode him. 

“You’re going to– fuck– be the death of me, I– shit! – swear it,” he panted, capturing your lips in his. You continued your teasing movements for a while, relishing in the way he held you tighter, moaned louder, gaze darting across your sweat-covered body. 

“And if I did this?” you questioned, voice laced with innocent, but your actions did little to reflect that. You gripped his shoulders, raising up until his tip was barely still inside you, before sitting down completely. You gasped at that, cunt clenching around him as the first sparks of ecstasy shot through you. “Oh–”

Bradley grinned that all-consuming smile of his, bent his knees and lifted you up before bucking his hips up, into you. Your mouth fell open at the sight, couldn’t stop yourself from staring at how his cock slipped in and out of you. “You look fucking beautiful, sitting on my cock like that,” he professed, his own gaze locked at where he pounded into you. “And you’re taking me so well– knew you would.” 

“F-fuck, Bradley. I can’t– fuck! It’s too much, too much.” Your words were unintelligible as that familiar rush of heat consumed you. You could feel it spreading to the tips of your fingers, to your toes, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. 

“That’s alright, sweetheart. You’ve done so well, just let go, that’s it,” he coaxed, fingers returning to your drenched clit as his hips continued their incessant hammering, coupled with the steady strokes of his fingers. 

You quivered around him, mumbled thank-yous caught in your throat as your body arched, then collapsed into him. “I love you, sweetheart. Fuck– love you so much.” He kissed his confession into your skin, melting back into the pillow as he clutched you as close as humanly possible. 

“What about you?” You lifted your head, vision still swirling from your second orgasm. “You didn’t finish.”

“That’s okay, I’m alright,” he assured, rolling over so that he’d slip out of you. “You’re stuck with me sweets, so we have ages for you to make it up to me.”

 Bradley left a comforting kiss on your hip bone, eyes meeting yours as he did so, before he walked over to the bin to peel the glistening condom from off of him. It took him a while to find his briefs, but he eventually slid them on, before venturing into his bathroom.

You were entirely too spent to even pay attention to whatever he was doing, but soon enough, he returned with a wet towel and positioned himself at your waist.

“Just gonna clean you up, then we can sleep some more, sound good?” he offered, carefully wiping at the inside of your thighs and up your slit. He tossed the towel to a distant corner in his room before sliding under the covers, tucking you into his side.

He sighed, sleepy and content. “So, was I any good?” he prodded, smirking down at you. 

You scoffed at his easy arrogance, rolling your eyes. “You know you were, Rooster. Now shut up and go to sleep.”

“Yes ma’am,” he fired back, but kissed the side of your head and relaxed into you, into your warmth. 

He wasn’t wrong. You made it up to him the next morning, and the one after that, and the other after that…

Please reblog if you liked what you read :)

[notroosterbradshaw]

slow dancing in a burning room - one

word count: 5.3k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, smut, fluff.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

prologue << please read this first.

six weeks earlier.

You had only just stepped out of the shower when you heard the apartment door slam. As Bradley’s heavy footsteps entered your bedroom, you sighed and started towelling your hair.

“Love, you here?”

Popping yourself out of the ensuite, you gave him a gentle smile as he sat on the bed, loosening his boots and socks, and lining them up neatly, the socks both naturally landing perfectly in the hamper as he tossed them. “Do I dare ask how today went or should I just stay in there a while longer?” you teased, thumbing towards the bathroom but weren’t really in the mood for another evening of Bradley’s bad mood with Maverick’s return.

It was early, thankfully he wasn’t kept back like he had been the last few days. He’d come home like a bear with a headache each evening, and as much as you loved him, you were growing wary of him returning home to play ‘guess Bradley’s mood!’, his internalising, the deep loathing. You weren’t sure how to help him aside from distracting him and trying to help him feel good. Things were strange, not between the two of you, but he was a little rougher, shorter, a little gruffer… and for a few days, you were incredibly turned on about it. But you’d be lying to say it was just leaving you a little on edge.

He could only shrug as you fastened your robe around yourself and approached him. “Better, worse, same,” he admitted as you stood before him and caressed his rosy cheeks, leaning down to kiss constellations of freckles around his hairline. He looked up with a faint grin, a pleased hum escaping his lips. “Hi. Missed you today.”

You twirled his perfectly styled tendrils around your fingers, the strands of sun-kissed hair soft under your touch. “Missed you too, handsome.”

He huffed a tired chuckle, his hands coming to rest on your hips, his head resting on your belly, you could hear him take a deep inhale before looking up to meet your eyes. His stealthy palms moved to the belt of your robe and slowly pulled it wide, your beautiful body all curves and soft skin on display for him. The same visceral response he always had; your body called to him in ways no one else had before. 

He bobbed and kissed between your ribs, his large hands disappearing under the terry towel material to your ass, his touch light and pulling you to his lap. “Come here, sweet girl,” he said, his exhaustion evident in his voice. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, centring himself against your skin. “Home,” he said so faintly you almost missed it.

Your heart lurched. Sometimes you wondered if he meant to say things like that out loud, but he was never embarrassed if you heard him. Your nimble fingers started to make light work of his khaki shirt, strained over his broad chest and shoulders. Hands drifting to his waist and quiet giggle as you tickled him, you withdrew the hem from his slacks, your hands bunching the material as he reached for a lingering kiss. Your tongue tenderly traced his full lips as he smiled, gratefully deepening the motion, his arms tightening around you.

“Really missed me, huh?” his voice a little rough.

“Sue me, the khaki sure is something…” you murmured against his jaw.

“Despises the Navy but fuckin’ butter for the uniform,” he goaded with a tsk.

“I like your flight suit too. You just don’t wear it home as much,” you confided as he chuckled louder, his head lolling with joy and you’d swear it was the heartiest laugh he’d revealed all week. 

“You don’t need me coming home reeking like jet fuel and sweat, sweet girl,” he admitted.

Buttons finally all undone, you pushed the khaki from his shapely shoulders. “I know the push-ups have been hell, but Jesus boy…” you fingered the ribbons of bugling muscle as he kept his steadfast gaze on you and surprised him by pushing him back on the bed, he landed with a huff. “I really am the luckiest,” you said as he propped himself to his elbows as you undid his belt and painstakingly, delicately downed the zip. He willingly raised his hips as you took his boxers with his slacks.

Bold and truly on display, Bradley Bradshaw was a delight to the senses. If someone asked you to describe him, you weren’t sure where you'd start – 

He waved to regain your attention. “Where are you? You’re like a million miles away,” he asked, his lips quirking in amusement.

“Lost in you,” you slipped out before you could stop it.

He held out his calloused palm and you took his hand, crawling up the bed. You straddled his tummy, tracing the peaks and ridges of his abs and ribcage. “Good,” he pushed the robe away and pulled you to him, skin to skin.

“Are you good, sweetheart?” you asked, quietly.

“Today was okay,” he admitted.

“And Mav is still in one piece?”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“Great! That covers our Maverick discussion for the evening,” you announced as he frowned. “We’re not talking about him tonight,” you reiterated as he nodded.

“Fair. Never wanna talk about that motherfucker,” he breathed. “So, let’s just stop talking,” he gave you that gentle smirk, his tongue running over his lips before kissing you to shut you up. He knew how worried about him you were, but Pete Mitchell was a situation he could handle.

Albeit, he knew he was coping pretty shitty at this point. His rage was completely out of check, he felt he was running on adrenaline - and the worst part? No one in the squad knew. He knew he was coming across as a petulant asshole in classes and worse, in the air. But he was dealing with it as well as he could. He knew he was not his usual self. But he was doing everything he could to not bring work home to you. He knew that wasn’t working either… but it was only another few weeks of training with Mav, getting on the boat, being or not being a part of the mission, and get the fuck back home. Move into your new home together and start living the rest of your lives without Peter fucking Mitchell.

But it wasn’t just Mav... the more he’d started to learn about the mission parameters, the more anxious he got and it was only compounded by seeing Mav every day. There was also the fact he didn’t know how to tell you how dangerous this all was. It didn’t compare to a single thing he’d done in his life before. 

It was weighing on him.

“Kiss me. Put that pretty mouth to use,” you told him with a hint of demand as he chuckled, pulling your thigh into his palm and rolling you so he was hovering above you. You adored his body weight on you, the strong muscle and his bulk comforted you.

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered quietly as he kissed your nose, his soft lips slowly making their way around your face as your eyes fluttered closed and he took his opportunity to kiss your closed eyelids. He loved you wholly and knew he’d work hard every single day for taking a chance and falling in love with him.

He smiled against your skin as you giggled gently beneath him. You were overcome with his attention to you, his sweet kisses just making your head spin. Your head fell back and you laced your fingers in his sort waves. You didn’t think you’d ever felt this more in love with anyone in your entire life. 

As he nibbled your earlobe, he whispered, “I love you, sweet girl.”

You cupped his face, eyes opening to his handsome face. “I love you too, Bradley Bradshaw. Come on, make love to me, big boy. Been needing you all day.”

He nodded softly, adjusting his hard cock between you, hard, proud and wanting. “I’ll give you whatever you want,” he whispered, quite content to just make out. You'd never be able to fully translate how good a kisser Bradley was. At first, his moustache was a thing. You’d admit it, it tickled, and you had to find ways to hide the irritable rash that came with hours in his embrace. “You good and wet for me?” 

“Always.”

“Good,” he said decisively as he kissed you, his lean, strong body caging as you welcomed him between your legs, his cock pressing impatiently into your core but he dared not enter. “You’re so soft, so sexy. All mine,” he grunted as he tangled his legs with yours. His palm cascaded down your side and crudely open you to him, his long finger skimming your labia, skirting across soft skin and tenderly pushing within you as you sighed, blissfully. He grinned at his favourite sound in the world (a close second was the roar of his jet) and kissed you again. “I really could have you anytime I wanted, couldn’t I?”

Pulling his face to yours, you replied, “You tell anyone what my body does around you and I’ll deny it.” 

He laughed loudly. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, baby. If it makes you feel any better,” he admitted, lowering his voice. “You know you’ve got me on a string, chasin’ you round like a little puppy.”

You smiled as he grinned back. “A manly puppy,” you replied smartly. He shook his head and adjusted his cock, swiftly pressing in in retaliation, filling you up fully as you writhed in pleasure below him. “Oh, sweet Jesus.”

“Sweet Bradley,” he corrected you rolled your eyes, a mix of irritation and sheer pleasure and he rolled his hips that way that made you cry out.

“So fuckin’ good,” you managed as he wrapped his arms under you, raising your hips and changing the angle just enough for you to moan together. 

“Okay?” he pressed his lips to your throat, his tongue tracing and leaving its mark. You could only groan his name in response. 

“God, I love you,” you confided. “I love you so much, Bradley.”

And Jesus, did he know. He’d never felt so content thinking about forever. Sure he’d had a girlfriend here and there, never any long-term, more one-night stands than he’d ever care to admit, and dated plenty. But none of them made him feel like this. Like he was with the person he was supposed to live the rest of his days with. The thought excited him more than anything else. Someone to build a life and a family with. Maybe marry (although he wasn’t entirely sure where you stood on that matter. At Harvard's wedding a few months back, you’d slipped and talked about ‘our wedding’, which he downplayed but knew that when you said the word... he’d give you everything). But a life together consumed him. He never used to be like this, but he’d never met anyone like you either. 

The girl down the street who had a schoolgirl teen crush on him in high school that grew up and grew into the woman he’d come to love unconditionally. It was an added bonus that you were his friend first, so fucking smart, hilarious, and self-deprecating occasionally. He adored you.

And dear God, so fucking hot. You didn’t know how gorgeous you were, but Bradley knew he was batting well above his average with you on his arm. 

His hips ground into you punishingly slow, taking every ounce you were giving back as you met his thrusts, he was so hard and begging for his relief. He wanted to cum so dreadfully, but you still hadn’t and there was no way he would before you. He moved away from your mouth and looked down where your bodies met, his skilled fingers sweeping circles on your pained clit. Your body shook beneath his as he begged you to let go.

When your pussy started to throb, he could swear he saw stars, the drag of his cock thundering, wanting you to milk him for all he had. He groaned low, his head was thrown back as your core drenched his begging cock. “Fuck, you’re so good to me,” he managed to get out as your beautiful body shuddered, he was so deep within you and you knew he was so close, hard and heavy. He needed his release, and you were only too happy to deliver.

His hips roared into you, pace heady as your orgasm dragged out his and he palmed your breast, tongue swirling your nipple wanting more as you writhed below him, the pleasure now too much in your post-orgasm glow and you brought his panting mouth to yours, hungry, wet kisses covering each other as he came with a growl. He spilled into you and before long, he stuttered to a close, his lips kissing your face and caressing your breasts, his tongue lapping at his bite marks and leaving delicate kisses in the places that stung.

For a moment, he lay on you, gathering himself, peppering tender kisses along your clavicle as he came down from his high and breathed deeply. “I never want to move,” he teased as you raised an eyebrow and watched as he reached for his discarded undershirt, gathering it between you both as he pulled out and you leaked the proof of your lovemaking all over the bed. He tenderly tidied you up before doing the same and discarding the shirt to the floor. He gave you a tender kiss and helped you wrap yourself back up in your robe, his body resting tenderly against yours, keeping you close and warm.

“You’re very good at that, Bradley,” you said, absolutely 100% fucked out just like he liked it.

He laughed quietly, raising his knuckles to dab. “I got a very good partner.”

That exhaustion from the day reared its head again as you yawned as he played with your fingers against his strong chest. “Wanna go for a drive?” Bradley said a while later.

“Dinner or something?” you could go with dinner. Workout done; your stomach growled on command. He chuckled quietly.

“…or something. Then dinner,” he said a faint smile ghosting across his striking features. You shrugged. You didn’t have anywhere else to be. You shrieked as you were suddenly pulled to your feet and into Bradley’s arms. “I don’t know how to say it, and I hope it never becomes redundant, but I love you.”

You would never be tired of his sweet, honest words. “Knock it off, Shakespeare,” you teased as he blushed a little. “Me too, baby. You are the love of my life.”

And as always, Bradley’s gift of the gab single-handedly brought you to your knees as you pretended to lose your footing, faint. He chuckled, catching up and smothered your face with his soft kisses. “Never leave me.”

“Never.”

“And this would be our room,” Bradley smiled, opening the door to the master bedroom, the setting sun leaving the last hits of gold on the wooden floorboards as you followed him in. This is where your evening drive brought you: to his parent’s house he’d finally go the keys to and couldn’t wait to discover through your eyes.

He couldn’t remember a lot about the home, he remembered spending time at the beach with his mother, maybe faintly his dad playing the piano in the living room. He recalled photos of it, and maybe his memories were blurred because of it. But he remembered mornings when his dad was off work, and he’d sneak in as an early-rising three-year-old to creep between his parents and go back to sleep before Carole would make her men their favourite banana pancakes for breakfast.

Bradley sighed. He didn’t recall having banana pancakes much after his dad died.

He watched your every step, watching your brain work and considering what could be done with the room, the house, the kitchen you absolutely, fucking despised. He’d never seen you turn your nose up at something so quickly, it was hilarious to bear witness. Then your grin when you said you were going to enjoy taking a sledgehammer to that room the most. He liked that deviousness in you.

“My God, it’s huge,” you said, a little overwhelmed.

“Thank you,” he joked as you rolled your eyes, pulling you into his arms and burying his face into the curve of your neck, his silken tongue dragging across your jaw. “So… what do you think? Can you imagine growing old here?” he murmured into your skin and eyes peering up at you, shyly.

Hopefully. Desperately.

“You let me destroy that kitchen and the guest bathroom downstairs and I’ll be here forever,” you said, taking in his delicious lips and drawing his mouth to yours, your hand slipping to the front of his jeans, a rough grope of his cock jolting his entire body awake.

“Wow, easy there tiger,” he huffed a laugh, appreciating your initiation. “Jesus, that feels so good,” he admitted as your palm continued to grasp him.

“Wanna christen the place?” you asked curiously as he quirked an eyebrow.

“Fuckin’ A. Yes,” he chuckled quietly. “But there isn’t any furniture yet – ”

“I don’t care,” you told him, guiding him by the hand to the bay window, the sheer curtains wafting with the gentle breeze from the ocean. He saw where you were gazing, the reflection of late afternoon gold on the waves. “Beautiful view, huh?” he asked his voice dropping to sinful levels, thinking you’d been enraptured by the ocean.

You simply shrugged as he watched you raise your dress over your head and drop it at his feet, strapless bra covering your breasts and a barely-there thong.

“Oh. I…” He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and words lost to the air as he watched you unclasp your bra and slip off your underwear. “Love....”

“Gonna join me?” you asked, not nervous, not feeling on display, but feeling the radiation of Bradley’s desire washing over you. He nodded dumbly, letting his necessary ceremonial Hawaiian shirt hit the floor and slinging his wifebeater off with it.

He reached for the buckle on his belt. But not before one last request. “Make sure you’re good and wet for me, love,” he looked down to unlace his boots and remove his socks, almost choking as he gazed back up to see your hands flit around your breasts, tweaking your nipples and a moan so sinful he could come right then and there. “Keep going, don’t let me stop you,” he smartened up, his arrogance that the show was just for him, his jeans at his ankles and he kicked them away, leaving him and his strained half-hard cock in his boxer briefs. Pushing them away from his hips and dropping them to the floor, he stroked himself, growing in his zealous, calloused palm and moved to you quickly.

“Hey, roomie,” you whispered as he peered down to watch you touch yourself.

“Please don’t stop,” he grunted, taking your wrist and guiding it, and not letting your hand leave your pained clit. “Fuck, that’s so beautiful.”

“I need you, Bradley,” you told him.

“I know, sweet girl,” he said softly as he watched you get to your knees. “Oh, baby, you don’t need to – ”

You raised a finger to silence him. “But I want to.”

It was something he’d never deny you. You were so giving when you went down on him, and he would never turn you down because it gave you the power and he loved when you were in control. Of course, you consumed his mind, body and soul so it was just an extension of that, but he simply could not get enough.

“Love, I’m gonna cum real fast,” Bradley said pained as your warm inviting tongue swirled around his head, tasting him on your tongue. He sighed, digging his heels into the floorboards, desperately keeping his balance as he watched his cock disappear in the back of your throat. “My sweet girl, you deserve an award. No one has ever given me head like you do. It’s better,” he strangled out, his body shuddering. “It’s better every time,” he had to laugh when you gazed up and gave him a comical wink before returning to the task at hand. He swept your hair from your eyes and cupped your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. 

The teasing and taunting had gotten too much, and he grasped your jaw just that little bit tighter as his hips stuttered. You had taken him so deep, you probably had never gone down on him as devoutly as this, and he’d never felt so turned on. 

“Baby, really,” he grunted. “I’m gonna paint the back of that beautiful mouth of yours. Tell me if you don’t want it - ” he muttered. God, you loved when he spoke to you like that. It wasn’t often, but when that carnal part of him escaped, it only made you want to please him further.

You contemplated him like he hung the moon. A whine escaped as your pretty lips and hummed around his raging cock, and he had to remember to breathe. He watched your fingers disappear and you touched yourself again, your chest rising and falling as you felt your orgasm tempting to push you over the edge. There was something incredible about seeing Bradley so turned on. The power Bradley Bradshaw had over your body was truly astonishing. And the dirty talk? Jesus fuck, the sexiness never seemed to end with him.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so beautiful when you touch yourself, love,” he strained, his abs clenching and he maintained his balance, his powerful quads taking the brunt of the assault. “Are you gonna cum for me too?” he begged. You nodded but refused to release him and started to cry out, your body exploding, and he could hardly stand it, your body quaking and dear god did he love the magic your body performed when you gave in and let yourself release like that. He knew he was gonna lose your mouth on him as you lost your train of thought to your pleasure. He held himself steadfast as you struggled to stay with him, gripping his hamstrings to keep yourself on your knees. “I can’t – I have to – ” he tensed as he fucked your mouth roughly and he jerked himself thick, salty and deep in your delicious, slippery willing mouth. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed as you continued to swallow him down, the sensitivity just too much for him as he grunted low and ragged. “Take it all, love. That’s my sweet, sweet girl,” he gasped, as he forced the last thrusts out, a low grunt and he spilled into your heavenly mouth. 

He palmed your cheek and tenderly wiped away your stray tear with his thumb as you swallowed satisfied. He pulled you to your feet, kissing you silly, tasting himself on your tongue. He held your jaw, his long fingers slinking into your mussed hair and deepening the kiss as he kept you on your feet. 

He was so fucking proud of you.

God, you made him feel so fucking delirious, he just didn’t realise how lucky he was. “Sometimes I don’t think you understand how much I love you,” he said, his tongue tracing your lips. “Each day I think I couldn’t love you more and then you remind me that I’ll always be capable of loving you so much again,” he gently chewed your bottom lip in his gleaming teeth and kissed you again, soft and tender.

You smiled up at him, your small, soft hands caressing his strong sides, encouraged. “It’s wild, right? I feel the same,” was all you could manage, giggles bubbling as he couldn’t resist and laughed with you.

“There’s like 13 other rooms with still have to baptise, love,” Bradley hinted with a tease. “You got another round in you? You’ve already been so good to me tonight. I understand if you’re done...”

You didn’t know what it said about you, but you were always capable of another round with Bradley. He may have been the elite, but he took you with him every time. “I’m okay,” you promised. 

“Good,” he smiled, taking a seat and laying on the floor, opening his arms for you to join him. You lay across his chest and he covered you with his discarded shirt. “We got time,” he said as you lay your head on Bradley’s clammy chest and he twirled your hair in his fingers, giving you all the adoration in the world. “That was the sexiest thing you have ever done for me. Watching you finger yourself… bordered on obscene. I’m beginning to think you have this little deviant side within you that you have yet to fully embrace. You about to 50 Shades me?” he asked jovially.

“Not tonight,” you laughed. “Unless you want me to?” you said so straight-faced that he looked up, eyes bulging as the room continued to darken and your eyes danced full of mirth, giving you away as he chuckled and relaxed back. 

He couldn’t resist and replied, “I will try anything once.”

“Colour me surprised,” though you really were not surprised. “I guess I just don’t feel as shy with you as I used to. I am not stupid, I know you’ve had a lot more sex with me, but I want to please you, Bradley,” you said the last part cautiously.

“I’m glad you’re comfy, sweet girl. But I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to prove anything to me.”

“Well, yeah… but I know I’m probably not the most adventurous sex you’ve had either.” Uh oh.

He shrugged. “Untrue, but that is neither here nor there for me.”

“Am I boring?” you asked, suddenly very exposed as he shook his head sincerely. Panic washed over you as you tried to sit up as he sighed, and tenderly cast you back against his chest. He kissed your hair soothingly.

“No, love. You’re fucking perfect. I am extremely satisfied, trust me.”

“If you’re not, you’d tell me, right?” you asked, kind of worried about his answer still, as he sighed, shaking his head.

“Love, don’t get in your head. I’ve had sex. Some I remember, some I don’t. You? Every kiss, touch, caress. You’re the only person I want to be with. Sex is different now. It means something. That’ll always be the most important thing to me.”

You tried not to feel too smug; he surely had a way to make you feel like the only person that mattered. Bradley Bradshaw truly had the gift of the gab.

“You’re the last person I want to have sex with – think you haven’t ruined me for anyone else by now?”

You rolled over and smirked at him. “Jesus, Bradley Bradshaw. That is a line.”

“What?” he couldn’t hide his bubbling giggle. “It’s true, right?”

“Better fuckin’ be,” you agreed, crawling up to kiss him. You palmed his flushed, smooth cheek. “I love you, Bradley. And it’s going to take something really terrible to change that.”

“Fuck yeah,” he agreed softly, blushing a little. He pulled you flush to him. “I’m never gonna let anything happen to you, got that?”

Warmed to your bones, you smiled, and he grinned right back at you. All teeth and dimples, a little bashful under your affectionate gaze. You loved that generous smile when he gave it to you. “I hope not.”

For a while, you just lay there, occasionally something in the room giving you some spark of inspiration and mentioning your ideas to Bradley. You didn’t want to overstep the mark – this was the house Bradley grew up in. You knew he wanted to give the place some love, but you weren’t sure how much he was determined to change that was his parent's influence. That was the crux, the heart of it all and you didn’t want to overstep the mark. “Love,” he said after a while. “We can’t stay here tonight. There’s no power, bed, hot water.”

“That’s okay,” you rested your chin on his chest, your nail tracing the wiry skin of the scar on his Adam’s Apple, and he swallowed hard from the sensation as it made him break into goose pimples. “I guess I’ll go home all dirtied up then.”

“Well, I’m just going to filth you up when we get back to your apartment, anyway,” he figured. “What’s the difference?”

“The sheer fucking arrogance of you,” you could help to laugh. “You are so self-satisfied, it is ridiculous.”

“Oh, yeah, you really fuckin’ hate it,” he mocked you, licking his top lip and smirking wickedly. “I think you like my ego. My confidence is one of the things you like most about me.”

“You’re very sure of that.”

“Very sure,” he concurred. “You can tell me I’m wrong at any time…” he waited. And waited a little more before more cackling. “Yep, that’s what I thought.”

“Wanna know what I love about you?” you said after a while.

“Ooh, love. Yes, I’d love to know,” he laced his muscular arms behind his head and settled in, ego primed for steady stroking.

“Your good heart,” you kissed the left side of his chest, his heart racing under your lips and you could feel his ribs swell under your touch. His sharp intake of breath, while he waited for more, told you how surprised he was, thinking he was getting his body, his so impressive body that he dutifully dedicated hours in the gym to, loved on. “How incredibly funny you are,” you kissed between his pecs as he sighed and released a hand, to smooth your hair, giving you a heartening tug. He was so warm. “How talented you are, musically, creatively. I love those things you only let me see. When you’re so relaxed and at ease… I love when you walk around barefoot and your boardshorts hang low, your hair all wild and curly after a run. When you dance your gorgeous little ass off in the kitchen when you’ve had a good day.”

“Wow,” he breathed, heart swelling, self-esteem abated for the moment.

“And when you surprise me at work.”

“You liked that? Thought I embarrassed you…” he confided with a bashful chuckle; he cupped your chin.

“You turned up in your khaki’s with a dozen long-stemmed red roses. It’s all the mothers have spoken about since you did it. Are you aware your khakis are a little bit tight?”

Straight-faced, he replied, “Pretty sure they got me laid earlier tonight actually,” he said, the melody of humour in his voice as you hid your face. “But yes, the uniform is a bit snug at the moment. All that amazing food you cook me. Biceps are aware, seat is aware… cock, aware. Very well aware.”

“You’re goddamn shameless, Bradshaw.”

He laughed again. “Yes, love. Shameless for you,” he said, the cheese laid on thick.

“Take me home, big boy,” you tenderly kissed him, and he wrapped his arms around you, keeping you close. “Got hours before sunrise.”

“I’m gonna fuck you all damn night until you beg me to stop,” he murmured, pressing his lips to yours. And you weren’t surprised when you found yourself bent over the bay window and he fucked you from behind while he clutched and teased your breasts before he spilled into you again, hard and hungry, telling you over and over that you were the only one that he’d ever love.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Easy Like Sunday Morning - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Lazy Sunday mornings are few and far between for you and Bradley. When they do happen, you make the best of them.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: smut, unprotected p in v (or at least, no protection mentioned), dirty talk, praise kink, Bradley worshipping you. Sort of CNC (both parties are awake though when the actual act occurs?)

word count: 1.5k

The morning sun peeked through the curtains over the large window in your bedroom. You yawned and stretched, a much needed gesture after a solid eight hours of fighting Bradley for the covers throughout the night. Beside you, he lay in bed, still snoring peacefully - you were convinced at this point an atom bomb could probably detonate beside his eardrum and he still wouldn’t stir.  His tanned arm rested just over the covers, his hand loosely gripping the fabric as he slept. He turned onto his side, causing the blanket to drop slightly, exposing a landscape of golden sunkissed skin dotted with freckles across his shoulders and upper back. Bradley would never admit to it, but he’d been hitting the gym harder lately, and it was starting to show more so as the muscles in his back tensed and flexed as he got comfortable. 

Bradley had always been a good looking man. You swore that from the moment you first saw him - dressed in his khaki uniform walking down the streets in Coronado as he and a couple of friends decided to grab lunch off base that day after a briefing. You’d been out for lunch with one of your friends, and Bradley caught your eye from a mile away. Tall, dark, broad-shouldered and handsome - he was perfectly your type. As luck would have it, it turned out that he’d had his eye on you at the same time. Before leaving that afternoon, he’d stopped by the table where you were dining and flashed this beautifully crooked smile at you, the kind that made you just absolutely melt on the spot.

“Sorry for interrupting your lunch, but I couldn’t walk away without telling you how beautiful you are.”

His deep voice sent a shiver down your spine when he spoke, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as your brain processed what he’d said. He laughed when you told him he was sweet, his cheeks becoming rosy as you teased him, and that was that - within a couple of days, he was calling you for a date, and now, two years later, he was sound asleep in bed beside you, in the house you two had purchased together a few short months ago. 

You gently placed a kiss to his shoulder blade as you reminisced to yourself about meeting Bradley for the first time, causing him to murmur something softly, eyelids fluttering for a moment before remaining shut. After a few minutes, Bradley flipped back to lay on his back, grumbling quietly as he settled himself back into his rest. His curls were tousled messily from his tossing and turning, something that Bradley would quickly tame the moment he woke up with some hair styling products he had stashed away, specifically for making sure his hair remained in Navy regulation at every moment. 

You began to kiss his shoulder again, gently peppering his soft skin with tender kisses as he slept, showering him with affection. Bradley’s eyes fluttered again, a soft smirk forming on his lips as he glanced down at you, your trail of kisses now heading further towards his chest. He hummed softly and shut his eyes again, enjoying your display of tenderness towards him on this lazy morning. 

As you trailed your mouth down his body, you peeled back the blankets gently - trying your best not to wake him abruptly. You danced your fingers down his chest to his abdomen, your lips following suit. Once you reached the waistband of his boxer briefs, you delicately placed another kiss to the light trail of hair that extended from his naval to his waistline before sitting yourself upright. Carefully, you straddled his waist, taking care to seat yourself gently on his abdomen. You ducked your head down to begin kissing at his ear, which prompted a soft groan from Bradley.

“Mornin’, honey,” he said sleepily as he blinked his bleary brown eyes a few times in an effort to focus them on you. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” you hummed, your lips leaving a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses along his neck, something Bradley could never resist. 

“Mhmm,” Bradley shook his head, a strained chuckle falling from his lips as he shifted underneath you in the bed. “Honey, you’re making it really, really hard for me to not just flip you over and-” 

You raised a challenging eyebrow as you hovered yourself over top of his lap, settling down on the tenting fabric of his boxers. Grinding yourself against him, Bradley let out a deep grunt, shaking his head as he reached out and grabbed at your hips. He held you firmly in place, guiding your as you moved back and forth, rubbing yourself over top of his boxers. 

Bradley gazed up at you with lust-filled eyes as he pushed you back onto his thighs for a moment, reaching a hand down to shove the restricting fabric back off his waist. Your fingers teased and taunted him as you slowly pulled back his boxers, his hardening cock springing forwards as you freed it. Taking his length in your hand, you stroked it gently, your thumb tracing soft, delicate circles around the tip. 

“Honey, you’re killing me here,” Bradley rasped, watching you carefully as you continued to toy with him, pumping your hand along his shaft with just enough pressure to drive him crazy.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Roo,” you purred, using his callsign as a means to tease him.

“Fuck,” he panted, shaking his head for a minute to try and compose himself, “I need you to ride me, pretty girl. Think you’re up for it?”

“I think I can handle it.” 

You lifted the hem of Bradley’s t-shirt that you’d slept in up, just enough to keep it out of the way as you positioned yourself over top of him. You slid down on to him with a soft whine, tilting your head to the side as you looked down at him, pressing your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself. 

“Fuck, that’s it, honey. Lookin’ so pretty bouncing up and down on my cock,” Bradley grunted, his large hands reaching for any part of you he could get a grip on, settling for your thighs.

You bobbed yourself up and down on him with ease, working yourself into a rhythm as you rode Bradley. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your thigh, causing you to whine as you sped up your movements. Bradley’s hands snuck their way up the bottom of your shirt, gliding their way against your sensitive skin before cupping your breasts. He gave them a playful squeeze before sliding them back down to your waist, guiding you up and down on him as he felt your walls beginning to clench around his cock. 

“S-so close, Bradley,” you whined, throwing your head back before darting your eyes down to meet his steely gaze. 

“That’s it, pretty girl. Let it go for me, honey, I’ve got ya.” he coached, his hands tightening their grip on your hips.

You gasped as you felt Bradley switch his hand placement, one of his hands drifting to your abdomen. He reached down and pressed his fingertip into your clit, massaging it in circles as you rode him. Your orgasm hit you almost immediately after he made contact with your sensitive nub, a wicked grin formed on Bradley’s lips as he watched your thighs shake and the movement of your hips become less precise as you fell apart on him.

Bradley snapped his hips forwards into you, thrusting hard and deep into your throbbing cunt. He desperately pounded into you, his breath hitching in his throat as he brought himself close to the edge. Your name fell from his lips like a sacred prayer, repeating it over and over as his voice rasped - as if there was nothing else on his mind than you.

“Fuck, so good, honey, you feel so fucking good. You’re so good to me, baby girl.” he praised, worshipping you as he came down from his climax.

Breathlessly, you leaned down, pressing your lips to his in a feverish, passionate kiss. Your teeth grazed at his plump bottom lip gently as you pulled your head back, a grin forming on your features as you looked down at him.

“That’s one way to wake me up,” he laughed, shaking his head before gazing up at you with pure adoration in his eyes. 

“Come on,” you grinned, tapping his thigh as you dismounted from his waist, “I’m gonna go take a shower, you coming with me, Roo?”

Bradley grinned, raising his dark eyebrow at you as he watched you walk towards the bedroom door. 

“I wouldn’t miss it.” 

[lewmagoo]

ocean of noise | b. bradshaw

description: in which bradley bradshaw is terrified to allow himself to love and be loved

warnings: 18+, angst, mentions of parental death, bradley has commitment issues and unpacked trauma, smut, unprotected piv sex, overstimulation, squirting

featured characters: bradley “rooster” bradshaw x nondescript f!reader (third person pov), pete “maverick” mitchell (a little bit of dad!mav)

notes: partially inspired by ocean of noise - arcade fire

He left in the wee hours of the morning, before the sun had risen, and before her eyes were open. 

He slipped out of bed as she slept peacefully, undisturbed by his movement. And as he quietly pulled on his clothes, he was filled with an odd feeling. A hollowness that ballooned within his chest. 

Later, he’d come to realize that that feeling was regret. But for now, all he knew was that he had to get out. Had to sneak out into the dark morning before the sun even broke upon the horizon, because he knew that if he stayed, his thoughts would run away from him, and he’d be forced to face a cold, hard truth. 

And the cold, hard truth was that he was in love with her. Painfully, irrevocably in love. That was something that Bradley Bradshaw couldn’t come to terms with. 

So, he ran. Just like he always did. 

As he left her house that morning, he sought peace at the beach. Usually, listening to the waves beat upon the shore calmed him. 

But not this morning. As he stood in the sand, looking out over the ocean, a storm raged within him. 

Flashes of her illuminated his mind. Bits and pieces of the night before. Her body pressed against his own. Her soft, breathless moans. Her face twisted in pleasure as he drove himself inside her over and over again. 

And then, there were the words she said as she was enraptured with pleasure. “I love you.”

He was stuck on those words. Had she really meant them? Or had she just said them in the throes of bliss? There was a part of himself that knew she had meant what she said. But he went back and forth over it, at war with himself. 

Suddenly, the ocean was no longer a place of peace and refuge from the outside world. It was an ocean of violence. Of noise. He couldn’t shut off the constant replay in his head, like someone kept hitting the rewind button as a sick joke. 

He kept trying to come up with reasons as to why he didn’t feel the same. Why he couldn’t feel the same. Reasons such as his profession being dangerous, or keeping him away for long periods of time. 

But in his heart of hearts, Bradley knew they were mere excuses. He was lying to himself. Lying to her. The truth was, he did feel the same way. He loved her so much it made him ache down to his very bones. But he was terrified. Terrified to commit, for fear of losing her, and of leaving her behind, should the sky claim his life. 

Upon his reflections there on the beach, he realized what a fool he was. This had all started as a mere one-night stand. But he was selfish, and he wanted more. So did she. They kept finding themselves tangled in the sheets, bodies wrapped around one another. It was as if they couldn’t get enough of each other. 

It was only sex. That’s what Bradley kept telling himself. But at some point, he’d begun to catch feelings. He tried to deny them. Tried to force them down like they were bitter pills to swallow. 

Except, those feelings weren’t bitter. They were sticky sweet like honey and went down just as easily. 

The thing was, he’d never allotted something like this in the plan that he called life. Falling in love wasn’t in the cards for him. It was better that way. He wouldn’t leave behind a widow like his father had. 

But then he met her. Maybe it was foolish to claim it was love at first sight, but for him, it was. He adored her from the moment he saw her, and as it turned out, she would be his undoing. 

He felt himself coming unraveled like a spool of thread, and even though she was still fast asleep in her bed, and he was standing knee-deep in the ocean, he was still connected to her, an endless length of red yarn keeping them tethered to one another despite being miles apart. 

He’d tried to cut that strand. Tried to saw at it with a knife and sever the connection they shared. But he simply couldn’t work up the nerve. How could he remove her from his life when she was the one thing that made it worth living?

These thoughts ravaged his mind as he stared out at the rising sun, the surf lapping at his legs, threatening to pull him in. He knew she was probably waking up now. She’d find herself in an empty bed, and the still silence of the house would tell her that he was gone. And perhaps she’d realize that this time, he didn’t intend to come back. 

It seemed cruel to do such a thing. To walk out of her life without a trace. Could he really go through with it? Could he walk away from the woman he loved and never look back?

“I don’t know what to do, Dad,” he whispered into the dawn. He wondered what Nick Bradshaw would say if he was still alive. Would he tell him to walk away before it was too late? Or would he knock some sense into him and encourage him to go after the girl? 

Bradley didn’t get a verbal answer, of course. But he did go to someone who would give him one. That’s how he found himself on Pete Mitchell’s doorstep that morning, weight shifting from foot to foot as he waited for the man to come to the door. 

It was still early, before either of them had to be on base. It gave ample time for them to talk. And talk, they would. 

When Maverick answered the door, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the distraught Bradshaw kid on his doorstep. “Bradley,” he said, taking in his disheveled appearance. Windswept hair, haphazardly thrown on clothing, and a faraway look in his eyes. 

“Mav, I…can we talk? I need some advice.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting Bradley to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. Nonetheless, the older man stepped aside. “Uh, sure, sure. Come on in.” As they both retreated inside, he motioned to the coffee pot on the counter. “I was just making some coffee, feel free to have a cup.”

Bradley obliged, pouring himself a cup before Pete motioned for him to follow him out to the hangar. They were both quiet as they walked, and once they were seated, Pete leaned forward, eyeing the man that looked so much like his two dearest friends.

He felt out of his element at that moment. Advice? What kind of advice? While he loved Bradley, he wasn’t sure that he was fit to give fatherly advice. The two had only just repaired their relationship a few weeks ago, and they were still navigating through years of emotional baggage that weighed heavily on them both. 

However, it was clear that Bradley trusted him. Or, rather, maybe he just didn’t have anyone else to turn to and Pete was his last resort. Either way, the seasoned aviator would try his best to help the kid out.

Bradley leaned forward, his eyes downcast as he gathered his thoughts. “I met a girl,” he murmured, “and she’s…she’s everything I could ever want or need. She gets where I’m coming from, I don’t have to explain myself to her. I know it’s impossible for anyone to be perfect, but she’s damn near it.”

Pete took a sip of his coffee. “Sounds like she’s a keeper,” he mused, unsure of where the kid was going with this. 

“That’s the problem. I think I’m in love with her, Mav.”

That puzzled him. His brows pulled together, and he cocked his head to the side. “I’m a little lost. How is that a problem?”

“Because I can’t fall in love! I can’t commit to someone, not when history could repeat itself. I don’t want to leave behind a widow like my dad did. I can’t do that to her.” 

It made sense to Pete then, and realization softened his features. He sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs. “I was involved with Penny years ago,” he began, “but I let her slip through my fingers. I had something great going with her, but I was too stupid to see it until it was too late. By some miracle, the universe gave me a second chance with her. But not everyone gets that lucky. If you’ve found something good with this girl, don’t let her go. This might be the only chance you get with her.”

“But what if I let her in, and then I end up getting killed on the job? I saw what it did to my mom. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Pete’s eyes were gentle as he regarded the younger man. “You can’t live your life in fear. I get why you’re scared. It makes sense. But you can’t let it keep you from enjoying yourself. You deserve to be happy, kid. You deserve a wife and a family and a stable, happy life. I’d hate to see you miss out on that.”

“I want that life. More than anything, I want it.” By admitting that, Bradley was finally being honest with himself. 

“Then go after it. There’s no sense basing life on what-ifs. Yeah, you could very well die while on duty, but the thing is, there are no guarantees. I mean, God forbid, you could be killed in a car accident on your way home today. Tomorrow isn’t promised. You love that girl, you tell her, and then you never let her go.”

Bradley was silent as he mulled over his words. He was right, after all. Tomorrow wasn’t promised. He’d found a good thing in this girl, and he’d be a fool to let her slip away just because he was too cowardly to commit. And when he thought about a life without her in it, it all seemed so empty and cold. 

Even so, he had much to think about. There was some emotional turmoil he had to work through. Long-forgotten demons hiding in a closet, waiting to be brought to the light. 

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I just, uh, get so caught up in my head sometimes. I forget that it’s okay to let myself experience happiness.”

“Your mom and dad wanted you to be happy. And I know for a fact that if Goose were here right now, he’d encourage you to go after the girl of your dreams. There’s nothing in this world that would have kept him from Carole.”

Bradley knew that to be true. Many times, his mother had recounted the story of how she’d met Nick Bradshaw. And although the ending to their story had been tragic, and the chapters in between had been difficult, she didn’t regret marrying him. She always said it was the best decision she’d ever made, and a large part of that was because Bradley had been born as a product of their love. 

He wanted a love like that. Pure and true, withstanding the test of time. But the question was, could he fully commit to it? Or would he let his fears hold him back? 

“I’ve got a lot of thinking to do,” he mused, glancing at Pete. 

He nodded. “Don’t spend too long in your head, though. It’s easy to get lost up there.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” Finally, the two men stood. Bradley offered a smile. “Thanks, Mav. I know playing therapist probably wasn’t how you wanted to spend your morning.”

“Hey, it’s not a problem. You can come by anytime, you know that. I’m just glad to be a part of your life again.”

As he left that morning, he found himself wishing nothing more than to run back into the arms of the woman he’d walked away from. But there was no time, for he had to report for duty, and he couldn’t very well abandon his post, no matter how tempting it was. 

So he went to work. And he did his job. And in between all of it, he did some thinking. And some more thinking. And even more thinking. He thought about a future with her. Thought about a handful of little ones. A dog. A house. A comfortable life. And the more he considered it, the more he realized that he couldn’t imagine a life without her in it. All of it involved her, and if he didn’t have her, he had nothing. 

But she was unaware of the turmoil he was currently in the midst of. When she awoke that morning, she found herself in an empty bed, void of her lover and his warmth. He rarely left in the morning without at least saying goodbye. The realization that he’d slipped away unnoticed created a strange tightness in her chest, and she wondered if she was to blame.

He’d been acting strange ever since last night, when she’d uttered those three fateful words. I love you. She’d meant them when she said them. But he hadn’t said them back. And she wondered if maybe she had misread the situation. Maybe he didn’t love her the way she loved him. Maybe all this was to him was sex, and nothing more.

But she couldn’t believe that. She could see it in his eyes when he looked at her. He loved her, too. He just couldn’t admit it. He shied away from talking about his personal life, save from a few mentions of how he’d lost both his parents, so she had never really been able to get to the bottom of his apprehension toward developing feelings. But in her heart of hearts, she knew that she couldn’t keep this up much longer.

She couldn’t pretend like there was nothing there, because there was something. A spark, just waiting to ignite into a wild flame, consuming everything in its wake. But she feared that it might be extinguished entirely before it even had a chance to grow. 

When she didn’t hear from Bradley at all that day, her heart began to sink. She sent him a text, simple and to the point, but full of concern. 

I hope you’re okay.

Got some things to think through. Talk soon.

She tried to get answers out of him, but he refused, leaving her to wonder what he meant by things to think through. Did that mean it was over between them? Her heart ached at the thought of never seeing him again. She’d come to love the moments they spent together in between their trysts in the sheets. 

Moments in which pillow talk would take place. Conversations that would last well into the night, talking about anything and everything. Those were the moments she fell in love with him. Gradually, like an hourglass filling with sand. But turn that hourglass over and it upsets the whole process. That’s what she felt had happened between them. Bradley had turned them both upside down and interrupted the flow. 

Three days passed without a word from him. She went about her daily routines. Get up. Go to work. Come home. Go to bed. Do it all over again. And she missed him. Oh, how she missed him. And she wondered if she would ever see him again. 

She felt like a fool. Here she’d gone and let herself get attached to him, only for him to wound the heart she held out to him. She knew she never should have uttered those three words to him. Exposing such a vulnerable part of herself to him was a mistake, and she wished she’d had the foresight to keep her mouth shut. 

That left room for resentment to take root, and it was already beginning to bud and take shape like a new plant in the spring. Except this plant was the kind that would choke all the good, healthy ones out. 

On the fourth day, she resigned herself to never hearing from him again. If he wanted to run like a coward, that was his prerogative. 

But then, he showed up on her doorstep that night, and the moment she saw his face, she knew she’d let him in all over again, because she couldn’t resist when it came to Bradley Bradshaw. 

He’d done a lot of reflecting. Spent the last four days agonizing over the situation. But a bit of advice that Maverick had given him some time ago came to his mind. Don’t think, just do. And although he’d been talking about flying, Bradley used it to apply to this moment in his life. 

“Fuck it,” he’d said. He got in his car and drove to her place, and found himself on her front porch, knocking gently on the door. 

A few moments later, the porch light came on, and the door opened to reveal her, dressed in one of his old Navy shirts and a pair of sleep shorts, and he thought she’d never looked more beautiful. 

“Bradley,” she said in an exhale of breath. 

His eyes, wide and full of remorse, met her own. “Did you mean it?”

She was slightly confused, brow furrowing. “Mean what?”

“When you said you loved me. Did you mean it, or were you just saying it because—”

“I meant it. I wouldn’t say something like that if I didn’t.”

His shoulders fell, seemingly in relief. “I want you to know I love you too.”

She shifted her weight to her other foot. “You have a funny way of showing it, running off like you did. You can’t just disappear like that.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I had a lot to process.”

She straightened, squaring her shoulders. “Next time, talk to me. I won’t have a relationship where neither of us communicates about how we’re feeling. Running doesn’t fly with me. You do that to me again and you’ll lose me forever.”

There was a determination, a firmness in her voice. Bradley nodded, face sincere. “I won’t do it again, I swear to you.”

She could see how sincere he was. It burned in his eyes, like the warm flame from a lone candle. Finally, she stepped aside. “Come inside.”

He did, stepping over her threshold and into the comfort of her home. She led him into the kitchen, where she proceeded to make two mugs of hot cocoa. They were both quiet as she worked, and finally, she sat down at the table with him, handing him his mug as he murmured a soft utterance of thanks. 

“Why did you leave?” She asked. 

“Because I’m scared of commitment. I told myself I wouldn’t catch feelings, but I did anyway. And it fuckin’ terrified me. My job puts me at risk every day and I can’t help but think, what if I leave you behind? My mom lost my dad to the sky, who’s to say the same thing won’t happen to us? That’s why I struggle so much to bite the bullet and tell you how I feel.”

Her features softened, and she leaned forward, placing a hand over his own. “I know what your job entails. Are you forgetting that I’m a military brat? My dad put his life on the line every day. I’m no stranger to that fear. I can handle it. I know what I’m signing up for.”

“I know,” he whispered. “It still doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No, it doesn’t. But it’s my choice if I want to get involved with a man who risks his life every single day. I’m not going to let that fear stop me from loving you. I want a relationship with you, Bradley.”

He held her gaze, nodding his head. “I want that too. I really do.”

“Then let’s take a leap of faith and see where it takes us.” She smiled softly at him, her face warm and loving. 

His fingers intertwined with hers. “Okay. I…I can do that.”

The apprehension and fear he felt still gnawed at him, but she was right. It was worth it to take a leap of faith, to see where this love would take them. Bradley didn’t want to live a life without her in it, and he was tired of running. It was time to let himself love and be loved. 

She leaned in then, her hand coming up to cup his cheek, fingers idly tracing over one of the familiar scars etched into his skin. “So, I’ll say it again. I love you. And I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.”

“I love you too. I need you like I need air to breathe.”

Before her lips met his, she smiled, and then she was kissing him. Slow and deep, and it warmed his chest, sending his heart fluttering within his rib cage. He melted into her, allowing himself to be in the moment. 

Her fingers slid through his hair, moving up to tangle in the sun-lightened waves atop his head. He relished in her touch, so deliberate. She knew just what to do to render him a needy mess. 

“Take me to bed,” she gasped against his mouth. 

Who was he to deny her when she asked so sweetly? Without hesitation, he hoisted her up, utilizing his impressive strength to carry her out of the kitchen, their hot chocolate long forgotten. 

His large hands gripped her thighs tightly, keeping her in place as he headed off to her bedroom. Promptly, he deposited her onto the bed, and when she looked up, he was looming over her, big and broad and driven by his need for her. 

He pushed her knees apart, and then he reached down, tugging her shorts off in one swift motion, exposing the fact that she wasn’t wearing panties underneath. He groaned lowly, eyeing her delicate center, already glistening with arousal. 

“S’ pretty, doll face,” he hummed, fingers parting the folds to get a better look, and expose that sensitive little bud. 

But he wanted to see more of her. In seconds, her shirt was gone, and she was entirely bare, while he remained clothed. But it was short-lived, for soon, he shrugged out of his shirt and jeans, and tossed his underwear somewhere unbeknownst. All that was left was the silver chain of his dog tags. 

Then he was on top of her, body warm against hers as his lips found hers again in a searing kiss that lit both of them on fire. Hands wandered, hips undulated against one another, mouths trailed over warm skin. 

Bradley realized his hands were shaking as he pulled her legs up to wrap around him. But she calmed him, taking those unsteady hands and placing them upon her breast. He locked eyes with her, and she beckoned him forth again so she could kiss him before she guided his right hand down between her legs. 

“Feel how wet I am for you,” she coaxed. 

She was indeed. He couldn’t help but moan as his fingers glided through the slick. His cock twitched as his desire to be sheathed inside her mounted. He dipped his middle and ring fingers inside her, crooking them upwards and finding that spot that made her gasp. 

He was good at that. Always had been. No other lover she’d been with could find that spot, but he’d made it his mission to do so, and he never disappointed. 

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he hissed, glancing down to find that her arousal was trailing down his hand. 

“All for you,” she echoed. 

He pulled his hand back, only to use her wetness as lubricant to stroke his cock. She whined at the sight, heat blossoming through her body like she was a live firecracker. 

He sucked what was left from his fingers, not one to waste anything, and she about spontaneously combusted. Then, he was settling between her legs, lining himself up with her. Normally, he would take his time with her and draw it out, but he wanted her so badly, and he wasn’t going to deny either of them what they truly wanted. 

“Gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he assured her, and she knew he would. 

When he pushed into her, she couldn’t help the loud moan that tore from her throat. The initial stretch took her breath away, and she shivered beneath him. Bradley let out a wavering groan, his mouth falling open. 

He stayed there with his hips flush against hers for a few moments, taking in the feeling of her cunt snug around him. He’d never tire of the way she felt around him, like she was made for him. 

Feverish lips were on hers again, tongue and teeth clashing, moans entwining. Her hands found their way to the plush of his ass, and she dug her nails into his skin. “Move,” she hissed through her teeth. 

His arms rested on the mattress, near either side of her head, and then he pulled back and shunted his hips forward. She arched into him, letting out a soft “oh!”

Bradley glanced down at the place where their bodies met, and the sight of her taking every inch of him made his head spin. “Only been four days and I missed being inside this sweet pussy so much.”

“I missed it too,” she breathlessly confessed. 

He pulled back again and drove forward, slowly building up to a steady rhythm. She wrapped her legs around his waist, keeping him impossibly closer, every inch of their bodies touching. 

They moved in tandem, joined as one. One breath, one heart, one soul. A silent understanding passed between them both. A promise that they’d never be apart again. This was the beginning of forever. 

Her eyes met his, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Each push of his hips into her elicited the most beautiful pleasured expression on her face, and he didn’t want to miss a single second of it. Her brows would rise, her mouth would fall open, and her head would fall back against the pillows. God, she was angelic. 

“I’m never leaving you again,” he confessed, face slack with ecstasy. “I’m yours for as long as I live.”

Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, and she pulled him down by the dog tags, mouth searching for his. In the process, he quickened his movements, and the audible sound of skin against skin could soon be heard, an erotic soundtrack coupled with their breathless moans. 

Wanting her to feel as much pleasure as possible, Bradley made sure to focus on other parts of her body. He lowered his head and swirled his tongue around each of her nipples, sucked at her collarbone, dipped his fingers into her mouth.

“Harder, please,” she breathlessly begged after a while, and he didn’t hesitate to give her what she wanted, fucking into her harder, faster. She grew more vocal, and it only egged him on. 

Then he brought his hand down between their connected bodies, fingers pressing against her aching clit, and it pulled the most salacious moan from her. She could feel him smile as he trailed his mouth along her neck, his mustache prickling at the sensitive skin. 

“That feel good, honey?” He asked. He knew it did. 

“Oh, yes,” she sighed. “Feels s-so good.”

His teeth nipped at her pulse point, only for his tongue to soothe the sting. She barely had a moment to react to it, because he was already hurrying his movements, fucking her deeper than before. He pushed her legs up further, which gave him more range of motion, and his cock brushed against that spot within her that made her eyes roll back in her head. 

“Fuck!” She cried, jolting against him. “Right there!”

“Yeah? That’s your spot, ain’t it?” He taunted. If she wasn’t already so fucked out she might notice his smug expression. He knew exactly what he was doing. She was going to come undone at least twice before he even reached his own end, because her pleasure was his first priority. 

Her hands found their way to his back, which her fingers dug into, sure to leave trails of pink in their wake. He didn’t care. He wanted her to mark him up, to stake her claim on him. He was hers and no one else’s. 

She lifted her head from the pillows, searching for his mouth again, and he kissed her, swallowing her moans that kept growing in pitch. He could feel her tightening around him, and he knew she was close. “Want you to come for me, sweet thing.”

“I-I’m almost there,” she squeaked.

“I know. You let go when you need to. I’m gonna fuck you through it.” 

She allowed herself to bask in the sensations warming through her. Crackles of ecstasy, beginning at the base of her spine and flowing out to her extremities. She felt like a live wire, thrumming with electricity. 

He infiltrated her every sense. His warm skin against her own. His gravelly moans filling her ears. The taste of his mouth against hers. The darkened honey of his eyes as he caught her gaze. The scene of his cologne, and the wonderfully familiar scent that could only be described as Bradley. She was surrounded by every part of him, and she couldn’t get enough. 

She grew more vocal the more intense it became, and the sound of her desperate moans was music to his ears. “Sing for me, baby. Let me hear how good it feels.”

And she did. She cried out for him, body trembling in his arms as he fucked her. With his fingers at her swollen bud, and his cock snug within her, she was plummeting to the edge, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. So she did just as he said. She let it wash over her, and she didn’t hold back. 

When her eyes locked with his, wild with need, he knew she was done for. He watched in awe as she fell apart, writhing in euphoria as her orgasm engulfed her entirely. He fucked her through it, like he’d promised, but he had to slow down and grit his teeth as he tried to stave off his own end. Her cunt tightened around him, nearly sending him over the edge, but he held it together and allowed her to experience her own pleasure before chasing his own. 

When she finally came down, she fell limp beneath him, chest heaving as she fought to regain her bearings. He remained against her, grounding her. His lips were on hers, and he kissed her gently, slowly coaxing her down from the intensity she’d just experienced. 

He’d paused his movements, allowing her a moment to recover. As that spaced-out look in her eyes began to fade, she looked up at him, smiling shyly. “Th-that was…wow.” 

Bradley grinned at her, his cheeks flushed. “Glad to hear,” he said, laughter in his voice. 

She pulled him closer, a look of mischief crossing over her features as she tapped his ass with her heel. “Giddyup,” she coaxed. 

She certainly didn’t have to tell him twice. He resumed his pace, quickly moving back up to speed. She wrapped her legs securely around his waist, arms snaking around his shoulders. He braced his hands on either side of her, face hovering over hers. 

God, he was breathtaking like this. Eyes set with determination, mouth slack, cheeks pink. Sweat glimmered on his brow. His dog tags jangled with each thrust. 

He’d started grinding his hips into hers with each thrust, pubic bone creating friction against her clit, and she was so sensitive that it nearly sent her over the edge again. “Oh!” She gasped, mouth falling open. 

He felt her tighten around him again, and he let out a broken grown, slowing down. “Fucking hell, baby. You keep doing that and I’m not gonna last much longer,” he warned. His resolve was quickly fading. 

“C-can’t help it,” she whimpered. “Feels too good.”

Something about her tone, and the look of innocence on her face, lit a fire within him, one that began to spread throughout every inch of his body. 

He sped up, bracing himself above her as he rose to a rough, unforgiving pace. He fucked her hard, and the sounds she made only spurred him on. At that point she could hardly utter a coherent word. The only thing coming out of her mouth were unbridled moans and whimpers. 

Somewhere along the way, she was hit with a second orgasm out of nowhere, and she quite literally sobbed as it crashed into her. This time, Bradley didn’t slow down. In fact, he fucked her so hard through it that she ended up soaking him with her release, the evidence of which coating his dick and his upper thighs. 

He glanced down at the mess, dripping beneath them onto the sheets, and his mouth hung open. But she was quickly growing embarrassed. 

“S-sorry. I made a mess,” she despaired, her voice wavering. 

It took everything in him to keep his composure. “Don’t you dare apologize,” he gritted out, fighting everything within himself to keep it together just a little longer. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

His voice was wrecked, and his whole body trembled. He knew he couldn’t hold on any longer. So he kissed her long and hard, and fucked her into the mattress. He could feel it building, and he didn’t stop until it finally overwhelmed him. 

With all but a shout, he drove his hips forward, pressing them flush to hers as he spent himself inside her, filling her to the brim with all he had to give. She took it all like the good girl she was, and soon, they both collapsed against the bed in exhaustion. 

Bradley was careful not to rest his entire weight upon her, and he very gently eased his softening cock out of her, soothing her when she whimpered. 

He couldn’t bring himself to speak for a few moments, and neither could she. They were still easing through the post-orgasmic haze. Instead, he opted to hold her, keeping her tucked against his chest. She was still jolting from the aftershocks. 

Several minutes passed, and the fog began to clear from her brain. And as it did, she realized what a mess she’d made. She glanced down and gasped at the sight of the soaked sheets, and she hid her face against his neck in embarrassment. 

“I can’t believe that happened,” she murmured. “I’ve never done that before.”

He pulled back to look at her, face a mix of incredulity and pride. “You mean no one has ever been able to make you squirt before?”

“N-no. They’ve never cared enough to try. I didn’t even know I could do it, anyway.”

He couldn’t hide the grin that spread across his face. “So I’m the first one that ever made you feel that good?”

She pushed at his chest. “Don’t get all cocky now.”

He hummed in amusement and leaned in to kiss her nose. They fell into a comfortable silence again, basking in the afterglow for a little while longer before it was finally time to get cleaned up. 

Bradley stripped the bed while she excused herself to the restroom, and by the time she emerged, he already had fresh sheets on, and was just spreading the duvet over the mattress. Sometime during the process, he’d thrown on his underwear, though he wore nothing else. 

“Thank you,” she expressed her gratitude for him changing the sheets. 

“It’s the least I could do, since I was the one who helped make the mess,” he said with a good-natured grin. 

She stepped in close, placing her hands on his broad chest. Instinctively, his own hands rested upon her hips, keeping her flush against his body. The atmosphere shifted into seriousness. 

“Are you going to stay this time? Or will I wake up to an empty bed again?” She asked. 

He held her gaze. “I’m staying. Remember what I told you? I’m never leaving you like that again. You’ve got me now, for as long as you’ll have me. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making things right if I have to. I don’t ever want to hurt you again.”

She hummed, leaning up to kiss his mouth. “You don’t have to spend the rest of your life making it right. All I ask is that you be open and honest with me from here on out. It’s my only condition.”

He nodded without hesitation. “I will be. I promise.”

Then she smiled, “I’ve heard that you’re a man of your word. Is that true?”

“My word is good,” he simply replied.

“Well, in that case, Mr. Bradshaw, will you be mine?” Mirth lit up her eyes. 

It was his turn to smile. “I will gladly be yours, darlin’.”

And so, their love story began. 

-

taglist

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[bloatedandalone04]

Greatest Fan of your Life

➪the one where you get your wisdom teeth removed and bradley takes care of you.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of a bad past dental experience, mentions of teeth being removed...because, you know, mentions of blood, anesthesia, use of an iv, mentions of not eating properly, reader is going through it, bradley being the best boyfriend ever, literally wrote this because i just had three of my wisdom teeth removed and needed some comfort

Word Count: 5.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

You were nervously chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced up at the sign of the best dental office in San Diego. As you read over the sign a couple of times, Bradley reached over from his place behind the wheel and grabbed your hand. “How are you feeling?” 

Tearing your eyes off the logo that resembled a tooth, you give him a weary smile. “I’m nervous,” you state the obvious in a quiet voice.

Bradley raised your hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it before rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles with his thumb. “You’re going to be fine, pretty girl,” he said in hopes to provide you with some much needed comfort. “I’m going to be waiting right here when it’s over, and then we’ll go home and I’ll cater to your every need.”

You give him another smile and lean over to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I like the sound of that,” you murmur and he smiles back before placing another quick kiss to your mouth.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” He asks when he saw you reach for the handle.

“Please,”

And with that one word Bradley was hopping out of the Bronco and grabbing your hand as you both walked up to the door. He could feel just how tense you were and he wished there was something he could do to ease your nerves, even a little bit. He knew there was nothing he could say or do to help you, as having anything done to your mouth, from a filling to a simple clean, made you beyond nervous.

You had never liked the dentist, ever since you were a kid and they had to hold you down while extracting a tooth that was no good. They hadn’t given you enough freezing for it to numb properly, so you felt pretty much everything. Safe to say you never went back to that dentist office.

Maybe that was why you had waited so long to make an appointment to have your wisdom teeth removed. You were told back when you were twenty one that you should get them extracted as soon as possible, but that was ten years ago, and you still hadn’t booked the appointment. 

You were fine, for the most part, up until a few weeks ago. You were barely able to chew tough foods because your gums ached beyond words, and you had resorted to drinking shakes to get you through the day. That was fine, until Bradley noticed you had lost a concerning amount of weight due to the lack of actual food you were getting into your body. 

He went ahead and booked the appointment for you pretty much instantly after that. He had to sweet talk the lady on the other line, who was insisting that it should be you who was making the appointment, but she eventually gave in when he told her about your fear of the dentist. 

Bradley still wasn’t sure how he had gotten away with that, but he was grateful nonetheless, even if you didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day after he informed you of your upcoming extractions.

While you were upset and scared, you were also glad you would be able to go back to eating solid foods in about a week after today. 

That positive still didn’t help tune out all the negatives you were feeling. 

As you walked up to the front desk of the office, you didn’t loosen your hold on Bradley’s hand once, not even when the lady behind the desk handed you a clipboard with papers you needed to sign since this was your first time in this office. 

You both sat in the waiting room, and you were shaking so badly you were afraid your writing was so messy that you’d have to ask for a new page. With a nervous glance up at your boyfriend, he just pressed a kiss to the side of your head and took the clipboard from you, filling out your information for you. Most he knew off by heart, thankfully, and he handed it back to you so you could scribble down your signature at the bottom of the page. 

It was only a few minutes after he handed the board back to the lady when your name was called. Bradley could tell that you were beginning to freak out once again, so he took your hand and walked with you over to where the procedure will be done. 

“You’re going to be fine,” he assured you, his hands tilting your head up so he could press a soft kiss to your lips. “It’ll take an hour at the most, and then we’ll be back home.”

You just nodded and allowed him to kiss your forehead. “I love you,”

“I love you, too,” and he watched as you were guided into the room by the assistant. 

You hesitantly sat down on the chair and kept your eyes on the blank wall in front of you. Off to your left were various paintings, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look over at them, despite them probably being there to calm down the patients. You were so nervous, you couldn’t even voice your opinions on the decor of the waiting room. This was by far the most elegant dentist office you had ever seen in your life. 

The assistant took a seat next to you and began wiping down your forearm, and you began mentally preparing yourself for the eventual puncture of the IV. “How are we doing?” She asked softly. “Are you nervous?”

You give her a tight smile as she tosses the wipe into the trash can. “Is it that obvious?” 

“Only a little bit,” she teased as the Doctor came in. “Your boyfriend mentioned that you have had some pretty tough times in the past regarding previous procedures. I want you to know that you have nothing to be afraid of. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You nod at her as the Doctor gently picked up the IV. “Hi, Y/n,” he smiled at you. “I’m Doctor Brown.”

“Hi,” you nearly whisper back.

He asked you the standard questions, like; are you taking any medication currently, are you a smoker, is there a chance you’re pregnant, when was the last time you had something to eat or drink. All that fun stuff you were barely able to answer.

“I’m going to insert the IV now, okay?” He asked and waited until you gave him verbal consent before gently piercing your skin with the needle. He looked at the fluid bag before sitting down on the other side of you and grabbing gloves. “I hear this is your first time with us, is that correct?”

You nod as he adjusts the chair so you are laying back. “It is,”

 “And you have a reliable ride home?”

You nod again. “Yeah, my boyfriend,” you answer, wondering when exactly you were supposed to start feeling sleepy. 

The assistant, whose name tag read Alia Clark, grabbed her own gloves as she asked, “What does your boyfriend do?” 

“He’s in the navy,” you mumble with a small smile. “He’s an aviator.”

“Oh, wow,” she replied and smiled down at you before checking over your chart. “And what is his name?”

For some reason, that took you a bit longer to answer as you felt your eyes begin to feel heavy. “Bradley,” you were finally able to say. “His name is Bradley, but he also goes by his call sign, Rooster.”

“Rooster, huh?” Doctor Brown hums and you were only able to nod as you felt your eyes close.

“Don’t worry, Y/n,” you hear Alia say. “You will be back with Bradley, or Rooster, in no time.”

And that was all the assurance you needed before you let yourself fall asleep.

-

Bradley wishes he was able to stay in the room with you, but he knew he couldn’t, so he finally made his way back out to the Bronco once he saw the Doctor enter your room. 

Once he was back behind the wheel, he sighed as he had an hour of time to kill. 

He had taken the week off work, after informing Mav of your fear of the dentist. The older man seemed to have taken pity on you as he had no problem letting Bradley skip this week to look after you. 

As he began to wait, he pulled out his phone and typed a quick message to you, knowing you wouldn’t see it or read it until you were back home. You told him beforehand to take your phone away from you until the effects of the IV wore off completely, nervous that you would embarrass yourself if you were to go on it in your drug induced haze.

After typing out a sappy little message, Bradley ended it with a simple red heart before sending it, hearing the buzz of your phone from where it was on the center console.

He debated on whether or not he wanted to stay in the parking lot the whole time, or run out to the store to get some things that would help make the next few days easier for you. 

He reluctantly chose the second option, as he knew you wouldn’t want him to leave your side once you were back home. 

Bradley drove to the nearest store and bought a few packs of pudding, apple sauce, ginger ale, yogurt and even some more of those shakes you had been living off of, something he was still mad about as he hated the way you turned to practically starving yourself to avoid this appointment, before stopping by the pharmacy to pick up more painkillers. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the smallest bit excited to be the one taking care of you. Usually it was the other way around, with you being the one to look after him every time he returned home from his deployments. Whether that be with making him his favorite foods, giving him some much needed massages or simply just laying with him in bed for a few hours, it all made the welcome home much nicer than it would have been if he was still living alone and single. 

This time he got to be the one to look after you, and he couldn’t wait to cater to your every need. He couldn’t wait to spend the whole week with you, even though you would most likely be miserable and uncomfortable due to the pain in your mouth. Still, he would do his best to make things better for you. 

Your surgery should be over soon, so with twenty minutes left on the timer he set for himself on his phone, he drove back to the dental office and was back to waiting for you. 

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to go in and wait for you inside, or if they’ll call him to come walk you out, but he decided to go in a bit early, anyway, and wait for you in the waiting room. 

Bradley remembered when he got his wisdom teeth removed, back when he was still a teen. He remembered just how uncomfortable he was during the recovery days, and how he didn’t really have anyone to look after him. He got his aunt to drive him there and home, and she stayed with him for a few hours after the surgery, but eventually had to return to her own home. 

He had to stick to sucking on popsicles and protein shakes until he was feeling well enough to go back to eating normal food. 

He was completely on his own back then, and he’d make sure that wasn’t the case with you. 

A few minutes go by, and when he heard the assistant call his name, he paused the latest newscast that he was watching on his phone and pocketed it before standing up. “How is she?” He asked as Alia getsured for the lady behind the desk to ring up the receipt. “How’d it go?”

Alia smiled at his multiple questions as she watched him insert his credit card into the machine. “It went well,” she answered and gave him another smile when he slipped the card back into his wallet and took the receipt from the receptionist. “She’s just resting now, but is able to go home since most of the anesthesia has worn off.”

He nodded and followed her back to where you were. She stepped aside as he entered the room and found you still laying on the chair, your eyes barely open as you stared blankly at the TV that was hung from the ceiling. “Hi, pretty girl,” 

At the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, you look over and tear up. “I don’t look pretty right now,” you mumble and try to avoid moving the cotton pads that were stuck to either side of your mouth.

Bradley hushed you and quickly walked around the chair so he could press his lips to your forehead. Your mouth and cheeks were swollen, and he could see a bit of blood on your bottom lip, but other than that, he still thought you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen. “You do,” he said and grabbed your hand when you reached it out to him, careful to not touch the bandage from where the IV was inserted. “Mouth full of gauze and all.”

“You’re Rooster, I’m assuming?” Doctor Brown asked as he held a few pages of paper in his hand.

“She told you my call sign, huh?” Bradley shook his head while you avoided eye contact with him and instead decided to stare at the wall.

“She was the perfect patient,” 

Bradley looked over at you and gently rubbed circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. “I believe it,”

Doctor Brown went over what exactly he and Alia did to you, before handing him a small bag that held antibiotics inside. The whole time you remained silent as you tried not to cry in front of the Doctor and assistant, squeezing Bradley’s hand whenever you felt the pain beginning to form. 

“She should be okay now,” the Doctor finished with a smile at the two of you. “There should be no more pain from having them in. If there is still a bit of discomfort after about two weeks, come back in and we’ll check up on the healing process.”

“Sounds good,” Bradley answered and gently pulled you up from the chair. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” you mutter as he guides you back towards the exit, with him carrying most of your body weight. He led you back out to the Bronco and helped put your seatbelt on before he was getting in on the drivers side. 

“I know this will be hard for you to do,” he began, checking you over once more before putting the car in reverse and beginning to back out of the parking space. He puts his right hand on the back of your headrest and gives you a teasing smile before continuing, “But I looked it up and Google says you shouldn’t talk too much. It might interrupt the healing process.”

Despite him really wanting to hear all the odd things you’d say in your daze, he didn’t want you paying the price later by having a sore throat.

You send him a dirty look and raise your brow, as if to say, really?

He just winks at you after taking off his aviators and reaching over to gently place them over your eyes, sacrificing his own in hopes you would appreciate the gesture since you had forgotten your own during your rush to leave this morning. It was nearing the afternoon, so the sun was shining down on the both of you, but he would deal with it to make you more comfortable. 

He was right about you appreciating it, as you give him a closed mouth smile, your cheeks puffed out due to the gauze. “Tell you what,” he says as he pulls out onto the main road, his right hand instinctively reaching over to trace random shapes onto the skin of your thigh. He keeps his left one on the wheel as he glances over at you, seeing your eyes already on him from behind the glasses. “Once we get home and you rest for a few hours, maybe we can go out and get milkshakes if you’re feeling up to it. Might help with the soreness.”

You instantly perk up at that and nod, grabbing his hand and bringing it up to your mouth. Bradley held back a laugh at your attempt to kiss the back of his hand, your lips clearly still numb as you couldn’t seem to get them to move properly. 

He just gave you a grin when you looked over at him in defeat. 

-

The swelling had gotten worse as the time went on, and your throat was dry beyond words. Bradley had guided you towards the couch as soon as you got home, flipping the TV onto one of your favorite shows and making sure you were comfortable before he was leaving to tidy up the small mess you had made in the bedroom a few hours earlier, when you couldn’t decide what to wear and had thrown multiple articles of clothing onto the floor. 

Within minutes he was back at your side, your head resting on his lap as you stared at the screen of the TV. Bradley ran his fingers through your hair as you both watched the show, listening to your uneven breaths as you fought back grunts of pain. 

He looked down and gently held your chin in between his fingers, squinting down at you as you opened your mouth. “I think it might be time to change the gauze, baby,” he murmurs and you wince in at the thought of seeing the bloody cotton leave your mouth. 

Bradley gently sits you up before reaching over and grabbing the bag from the dentist and pulling out a fresh set of gauze. 

After damping them with water, he sets them aside before mumbling a quiet, “Come here,” and he watches as you lean towards him and slowly open your mouth. Bradley caresses your jaw with one hand and uses the other to slowly pull out the bloodied gauze. He does it one by one, murmuring a soft, “I’m sorry,” when he sees the tears form in your eyes. He places both pieces of gauze on the palm of his hand before handing you the clean ones. 

He sits with you until you’ve successfully placed the new cotton into your mouth, and then stands up to throw away the blood filled ones. 

Once Bradley returns back to the living room, you move over and give him space to sit down before laying your head in his lap again and trying to focus on the show instead of the throbbing in your mouth. 

With your head still feeling fuzzy and the feeling of your boyfriend’s fingers running through your hair again, you give yourself a bit of relief and fall asleep. 

When you woke up alone a few hours later, you noticed that Bradley had left the TV on and had also put your phone on the coffee table beside you. You could hear him doing something in the kitchen as you reached for it, and knowing him, he was probably making something to eat as his stomach was like a bottomless pit. 

You sat up with a groan, still a bit groggy from the anesthesia, and unlocked your phone. Instantly, you were met with a couple of texts from your friends and family, and you smiled as you read them. 

Mom: I heard from Bradley that it went well and you’re resting now. Call me when you’re feeling up to it. Love you x

Nat: I told you that there was nothing to be scared of. Have fun being stuck with Rooster for a week ;) Text me when you can!

But the one that had you smiling a little bit more was the one from Bradley.

Bradley ♡: I love you, pretty girl. I promise I will be there with you as soon as it’s done. I’m all yours for the next week, and after that. 

You send him a heart emoji back, then realize that the gauzes are all soggy in your mouth, and you once again had to hold back a gag as you leaned over to put your phone back down.

When you bite too hard down on your cheek through the cotton, you wince and accidentally drop your phone onto the floor. It landed on the rug with a thud, and you heard the sounds coming from the kitchen stop. 

Seconds later Bradley was standing in the doorway to the living room, a cloth in his hands and he was still chewing something as he asked, “Are you okay?”

You give him a thumbs up before pointing down at your phone. 

He looks at it and shakes his head as he tosses the cloth back into the kitchen to find later, before crossing the room and picking up the device. “I knew giving you back your phone would be a bad idea,” he teased as he sat down next to you and gently ran his fingers along your still swollen jaw. “How are you feeling?” 

You shrugged and blinked away the remaining sleep from your eyes. “Dry,” you said and wince at how raspy your voice sounded. 

Bradley nodded, murmuring a quiet, “Okay,” as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Do you feel like trying to drink something?”

You look up at him with a small smile. “Milkshake?” 

He laughs and kisses your forehead. “We can go get milkshakes,” he says as he gently tugs on your lower lip with his thumb. “But first we need to change those again.”

You groan as he helps remove the stained gauze from your mouth again and wonder how he wasn’t grossed out by holding them in his hand. You supposed he’s seen and done worse, and he’s not exactly new to having your saliva on him.

He uses his free hand to grasp your chin between his fingers and tilts your head so the lamp next to the couch was able to shine somewhat into your mouth. “It doesn’t seem to be bleeding much right now,” he hums and stands up to toss the gauze away. “Do you want to see how it goes without them for a bit? Just until you get something into you. If it starts to bleed again after the shakes, I’ll help you put new ones in.”

You agree instantly, happy to be rid of the uncomfortable cotton for at least a little while. After he throws the used gauze out, he returns back to the living room with his keys and phone in one of his hands, the other free for you to hold as he held it out to you. 

He pulls you off the couch and guides you back out to the Bronco, making sure to grab the bag that holds the gauze and meds that you would need to take afterwards. He knew it would be an early night as the medicine would most likely make you sleepy again, and that was why he waited until it was nearing eight before taking you out for milkshakes, so you could go back home and go to bed at a reasonable time. 

Bradley couldn’t do much for your discomfort, but he could sure as hell keep your sleep schedule on track. 

You leaned your head against the window as he drove into town, your eyes hazy as you listened to his quiet humming of the song that played on the radio. “I like your singing,” you murmur as you look at all the lit up shops that passed by. “You should do it more often.”

Bradley laughed from beside you as he pulled into the drive thru. “I sing all the time for you, baby,”

“I know,” you say and lift your head, looking over at him while he eyed all the flavors to choose from. “But I can never get enough of you, you know that.”

He lifted his hand and ran his knuckles along the bone of your cheek, admiring the way your pretty face looked in the dim lighting of the Bronco. “The feeling is mutual,” he grinned at you when you turned your head to place a kiss to the back of his hand. “What kind are you wanting to get?”

You hum as you lean over the center console, reading over the various flavors. “Strawberry,” you decide and run your nose along the sharp angle of his jaw. “Please.”

After ordering two shakes, and asking for a spoon, Bradley pulled into one of the many available parking spaces. He pulled off the lid of your shake and stuck the plastic spoon in it before handing it over to you. 

He watched you carefully as he sipped on his own shake, holding back a laugh at how puffy your face is. Of course, you saw him shift out of the corner of your eye and turn to him with a raised brow. “Sorry,” he grinned and set his shake down in the cup holder. “You look like a chipmunk.”

You just shake your head at him and slurp on the spoon, waiting until the cold substance dripped down your throat before saying, “You’re laughing at me,” you state and hear him snort and cover his mouth. “I’m in pain and you’re laughing at me.”

That just made him laugh harder, and you found yourself smiling at the sound. “I’m sorry,” he says and reaches over to gently caress your swollen cheek. “You still look as hot as ever.”

You roll your eyes and bring another spoonful of the milkshake to your lips. “Liar,”

“I mean it,” he promised, running his fingers over your jaw in a feather light touch before pulling away. “You’re the sexiest chipmunk I’ve ever seen, baby.”

When you laugh loudly, you wince immediately after, and Bradley quickly decides that you’d most definitely be a lot more comfortable at home. 

“Alright, I think we should get going. Are you okay to…eat that while I drive?” He asked as he sipped on his chocolate shake. You wave him off and take a much smaller amount on the spoon, knowing that Bradley would go off on you for spilling anything in his precious Bronco, but you also knew he’d wait until after you were feeling better. The thought had a warm feeling spreading all over your body, as did his next words, “Okay, we’ll head home. You should take one of the antibiotics, first.”

You agree, and he holds your shake as you take the pill into your mouth. After rummaging around in the back with his free hand, Bradley hands you a warm water bottle, and he puts a reminder in his head to put the bottle in the fridge once he got home. 

“Okay?” He asked when you took back your milkshake. 

You nodded and have him a half smile, “It’s probably going to make me tired,”

“I know, that’s a good thing. You should be pretty tired by the time we get back home, and then you can go to bed and sleep off a bit of the pain,” he pointed out as he put the Bronco in reverse. Before he actually started moving, he gave you a serious look. “Do not spill that shake, pretty girl.”

You laugh quietly and give him a side glance as you sipped a bit of the milkshake from the cup.

“I mean it, baby,” he was only half serious in his warning as he started the short ride back home, one hand on the wheel while his other one held his plastic cup. “That cute face will only get you so far.”

You just shake your head and lean over to press a kiss to his cheek that you couldn’t feel yourself do. Your lips were still numb, so you were really trying to be as careful as possible with not spilling your milkshake. 

Luckily, you arrived back home without letting a drop hit a single spot in the interior of his Bronco, and Bradley gave you a chocolate tasting kiss as a reward as he led you back up to the house. 

Once you were in your room, he helped dress you in one of his shirts and sweats. After concluding that the bleeding had stopped, he decided there was no need to shove move gauze into your mouth, as that would most likely make it start to bleed again. 

He pulled back the covers and sat down next to you, smiling down at your emotionless face and tired eyes. “You doing okay?” He asked as he brushed away some of your hair. 

“Yeah,” you mumbled, taking his hand in yours and trying to kiss it. He just grinned at your attempt. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Bradley leaned down and kissed your forehead gently. “I always will, you know that,” you nodded as he pulled away and stood up. “Do you want an ice pack for the night? Might help with the swelling.”

After thinking about it, you nod and wait for him to return back into the room with the ice pack. He wrapped it in a dish towel and gently placed it against your jaw before stripping down into just his boxer briefs. 

He settles down in bed behind you, hesitant to touch you at the moment in case you needed space. When you just laughed quietly and grabbed his hand so you could wrap his arm around your waist, he inched closer to you and allowed you to rest the ice pack between his shoulder and your jaw. He was glad he put the towel around it, but he also wouldn’t have minded having to feel it unwrapped against his bare shoulder. He’d suck it up for you. 

“I love you, pretty girl,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I love you,” you mumbled back, snuggling closer to him as the effects of the antibiotics began taking over your body. 

As Bradley held you while you slept, he felt glad that he was the one you wanted to look after you. He loved you beyond words and he felt as though this was the beginning of his attempts to even out the balance in your relationship. It was you who constantly looked after him, and though he loved it, he also felt guilty that there weren’t many occasions where he was the one who looked after you. 

After spending the day taking care of your every need and being the one person you wanted to see you vulnerable, he decided that after this he would put more effort into showing you how much he appreciated and adored you. 

He was ready to move onto a new chapter in his life with you by his side, if the small box tucked away in his box of collectable cards was anything to go by. 

All he had to do was hope you’d say yes.

[roosterforme]

Sloppy Math Homework | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley is the first one to admit that he always has been and always will be a sucker for how smart you are. There's something so hot about you in teacher mode, and he loves it when you take charge. But he's in for a surprise when you dole out a new kind of punishment for turning in sloppy work that leaves him fully at your mercy.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, smut, teacher/18+ student roleplay, spanking, paddling, consensual roleplay punishment

Length: 2400 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time! Banner by @mak-32 Check out my masterlist

Bradley's heart was pounding when he walked through the front door to find you still dressed in your work clothes even though you got home around lunchtime on Fridays. He had been prepared to start cooking dinner, but the sight of you in your loafers and snug tweed skirt was enough to make his cock twitch.

"Are you ready for class, Mr. Bradshaw?" you asked, hands on your hips and one eyebrow raised. 

He took a deep breath and nodded slowly before he said, "I am so ready for calculus class, Dr. Sugar." Your smirk had his brain working overtime, wondering what exactly you had in mind for him. A blowjob if he aced his exam? Sex on your desk if he could solve the equation tattooed at the top of your ribcage? A handjob that lasted as long as he could accurately recite the decimals in pi?

It didn't matter what it was, he wanted it. He was aching for it. Bradley was a mess for his wife. And when you shook your pretty head at him standing there in his uniform and said, "You're not dressed for class," he could feel his cock pressing the inside of his zipper through his underwear. 

He glanced down at his khaki shirt and pants. "What should I be wearing, Professor?" he asked in a low, deep voice that had you getting a little flustered. He could tell. He knew all of your cues, and right now you were squeezing your thighs together.

You cocked your head slightly to the side and eyed him up and down. "I just don't think that's what a college student would be wearing to his weekly math lecture, Beer Boy."

Ah, okay. So you wanted college Beer Boy right now. Bradley could absolutely deliver on that for you. "Sorry, Professor," he mumbled, looking at the floor and his boots. "You're right. I'm not dressed appropriately for your class."

You nodded and said, "Meet me in my office when you're ready to learn something new." And with that, you spun and disappeared down the hallway leaving Bradley to watch the sway of your ass in all that tight tweed fabric. 

You were sexy academia personified for him, and he loved it so much when you wanted to be in charge. But truly, Bradley felt a little bad for the twenty something year old guys who had to sit through your classes. You just looked that good. You looked good when you were at The University of Virginia as a math major, and somehow you looked even hotter now as a math professor. 

He smirked. He'd enjoyed your body at both of those points in time. And he was the only one who knew exactly where and how much you'd filled out from your twenties to your thirties. "Shit," he grunted, realizing he was wasting time thinking about your tits when he could probably be looking at them. 

Bradley tore into the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He was already hard enough that it was challenging to get his uniform pants off, but he managed to leave a pile of khaki clothing on the floor as he rummaged around for his favorite Grateful Dead shirt. It was neatly folded in the dresser with your clothing since you wore it way more frequently than he did. But he pulled it on and found the University of Chicago hat you'd given him and tossed it on backwards. You always liked to run your fingers through his curls that stuck out from beneath his hats, and Bradley was practically panting just thinking about it.

He palmed himself through his boxer shorts as he pushed your office door open a little wider, grinning where you'd written SUGAR LOVES BEER BOY across it. And then he spotted you, sitting on the edge of the desk with your legs crossed. A few more of the buttons on your blouse were open now, and you were gesturing to your desk chair. 

"Have a seat, Mr. Bradshaw." Your voice was soft and sultry, nothing like the tone you used when you gave a lecture to your students. How did he get this fucking lucky? 

"Yes, Dr. Sugar," he replied, and you smirked. He stepped closer to the soft glow coming from his navy desk lamp which lived in this room, and he slipped down into your chair. Bradley desperately wanted to run his hands up your legs and tuck them inside your skirt, but he knew he wouldn't be allowed. So instead, he took the pencil and calculator you handed to him and looked up at your pretty face.

"I want you to work on your math homework sheet," you whispered, flipping over the single sheet of paper in front of him on the desk. Then you leaned down and kissed his temple, brushing your lips along the hair sticking out from under his cap. "Get started."

Bradley groaned softly, unsure how exactly he was going to be able to do this when his cock was aching so much. Plus, you were making no secret of the fact that you were looking at his tented boxers like you wanted to climb in his lap. 

"You're really proud of yourself, aren't you?" he asked, punching some numbers into the calculator to try to solve the first problem. "You got me so hard, I can barely concentrate, and all you did was talk to me and kiss my fucking hair."

You stroked your fingers along the strands of his hair you had kissed and said, "No cursing in my classroom. And no talking at all while you're working."

Bradley grunted as he scribbled down an answer for the first problem that he was actually pretty sure was correct. Visiting your evening lectures had really started to pay off. He'd always been pretty good at math, but now he was proficient in calculus and linear algebra. The only problem was, when most people thought about school, it turned them off. But simply looking at math problems made him harder. There was probably something wrong with him. 

You hummed as he answered the second equation, but when he looked up at your face, you said, "Eyes on your paper, Mr. Bradshaw."

"Yes, Professor," he whispered, and he was rewarded with the sight of you licking your lips. He was aching for a blowjob right now. He might get one if all of his answers were correct. So as quickly as he could, Bradley finished the remaining questions and slid the paper closer to you. "How did I do?"

You sank your teeth into your lip as you looked at him. Then you took the paper in your hands and murmured, "Let's see..."

Every little twitch of your brow and the way your eyes narrowed after a moment were telling enough, but when you met his gaze over the paper, he knew he had missed one. 

"If you just give me another minute, Dr. Sugar-"

"I gave you plenty of time already, Mr. Bradshaw," you said, stroking along his scarred cheek with your nails as you set the paper aside. You wrapped your fingers down along his chin and tipped his face up to meet yours. When you leaned in and kissed his lips sweetly, he was immediately reaching for your body. But then you jerked his chin up another inch and said, "But you missed number five, and I don't accept sloppy math homework."

Bradley groaned as your nails raked down his neck, because this was doing nothing to alleviate his erection. And now he was a little nervous about that problem he missed. "Does this mean you're going to make me take care of this myself?" he whispered, gesturing to his tented boxer shorts. 

The devilish smirk on your face actually thrilled him as you said, "Not exactly." Then you stood and took both of his hands gently in yours and pulled him to his feet. Bradley groaned as his erection trailed up your body until his length was resting against your belly. You pressed one more kiss to his lips and adjusted his backward cap as he throbbed against you. Then you stepped to the side and guided him to place both of his palms on your desk. 

Bradley looked at you and asked, "What's happening here?" Then you walked behind him and pushed the chair toward the center of the room, and Bradley felt your hands reach inside the elastic of his boxer shorts and start to guide them down until they dropped down to his feet. 

"What's happening is your punishment for your sloppy homework. Keep your palms on the desk, Mr. Bradshaw." You ran your hands softly along Bradley's ass, and he didn't move an inch. His cock was painfully hard now and leaping in the air, begging to be touched. 

He turned to his left where you were kissing along his neck now as you squeezed his ass. He moaned, "Baby, I might cum. I'm not even kidding."

You gasped and slapped his ass, and Bradley's jaw dropped open. "Baby? I'm your teacher! Show me some respect."

"P-Professor Sugar," he managed as his skin stung where you hit him. Then to Bradley's surprise, you opened the top drawer of your desk, and sitting right next to your post it notes was his Beta Gamma fraternity paddle. It was made of solid oak and painted in a psychedelic tie dye pattern that he always thought looked really cool. But the last time he saw the thing, it was on top of the bedroom closet. And as you wrapped your fingers around the handle, it dawned on Bradley why it was here and why he was standing like this.

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, and the look of mischief was gone as you squeezed his bicep and kissed the edge of his mustache. "I thought it might be fun to spank you, Beer Boy. But if you say no, then I'll put it away, and we can find something else fun to do."

Bradley eyed the paddle, and his mind was flooded with memories of his fraternity days. Not all of them were good, but he'd met you at his frat house. And you were the best thing in his life. And for some reason, the idea of that tie dye paddle hitting his bare skin was actually appealing to him. This was not something he had ever thought about before, but in the hands of his wife, he wanted it.

"Yes," he replied, kissing your lips as you started to smile. "I want you to, Professor Sugar."

You nodded and whispered, "If you don't like it, just tell me." Then you squared your shoulders and said in a louder voice, "I can't go easy on you, because you'll keep pulling this stunt over and over with me."

"I understand," he replied, letting you bend him a little more at the waist as you strolled around to stand behind him. And then he yelped as the paddle made solid contact with his right ass cheek. "Oh, fuck." But no sooner had he muttered those words than the paddle hit him in the same spot again. The stinging was intense as you apparently wound up to send the paddle to the same place a third time. "Baby," he whined, because if anything, he was more turned on than before.

Your only response was to switch to his other side and bring the paddle to an untouched patch of skin. Over and over until it was burning so much that Bradley was recoiling from the sound and feel of it. But his hips were thrusting forward now, and he was practically begging for relief from your mouth or your pussy. But he kept his palms planted on the top of the desk. And the pleasure and stinging pain mingled in his mind so much that he found himself whining your name. 

A moment later, you set the paddle on the desk next to his left hand, and Bradley looked up into your lust filled eyes. "Sugar?" he gasped, and you were prying his hands from the desk and pulling him close. Your lips came crashing into his as you grabbed at his shirt. He was rutting into you now, afraid he'd cum on your tweed but unwilling to try to hold himself back. 

"Bradley, that was so fucking hot," you moaned, turning him around and pushing him down to sit on the desk. It felt delightfully cold on his raw skin, but he winced at the same time. It was almost too much to handle. But then you were yanking your skirt up to reveal you were bare underneath, and you scrambled up onto his lap. 

"Easy," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. But then your perfectly tight warmth came sinking down around his cock, and he knew he was going to last about ten seconds in this state. He shook his head and whispered, "I'm gonna cum."

You held his face gently in both hands and kissed his forehead as you told him, "You earned it." And all the while you bounced up and down on him, bottoming out and whining softly.

So Bradley took your perfect ass in both of his palms and guided you just how he wanted you, and then he filled you up with his cum. You were peppering his cheeks with kisses as he sat there with his lips parted, trying to catch his breath. 

"You just spanked me with my Beta Gamma paddle. For my sloppy math homework," he marveled out loud, still nestled inside you. "When I'm not even your student."

You let your cheek come to rest on his shoulder and said, "You're my best student." Then your fingers were teasing at his curls sticking out from under his hat. "And if you enjoyed it, we can do it again."

Bradley groaned and said, "My ass needs a couple days off after that." Then he smirked as he reached for the paddle and rubbed it gently across your bare bottom. Your eyes went wide as your head came off his shoulder. "Yours on the other hand..."

--------------------------

Oh look, a new kink unlocked for Beer Boy and Sugar. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[valhallaas]

On My Own

listen here

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x female!reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: it’s a nightmare. it’s a memory. if only you could let it go. 

warnings: angst, major character death, stages of grief, mentions of pregnancy

a/n: um. i haven’t written anything in like, four months and i return with this. cool cool cool. angst isn’t my forte, so i did have this beta read. yeah. read and enjoy. would love the feedback!

“Tell me, when’s the last time someone told you they loved you?”

The question isn’t malicious. You mean no harm by it—only genuine curiosity. You’ve known Bradley Bradshaw, Rooster, since your earliest top gun days. You know everything there is to know about each other. You’re best friends, and you know that you’re both on the edge of teetering towards more.

He stares at you like a kicked puppy. Eyes wide, mouth slightly parted in surprise. Your heart hurts a little, because you know that he probably has never thought about it. Silently, you push off the kitchen counter, setting down your glass of wine. Your head tilts, taking slow steps towards him. Bradley flinches when your hand rests on his chest, fingers splayed out over his beating heart.

“Bradley,” you whisper.

“I don’t–” he can’t look at you, hands balled into fists.

“An ex-girlfriend maybe?” you say, slightly hopeful. A slight nagging feeling crawls up your spine. God, it’s been years. Please don’t let it be. “I know Phoenix gets emotional when she’s drunk, did she say it to you then?”

He shakes his head, stepping closer into you. Jesus, what did you do? You’ve never seen him like this before. It’s making you nervous. You never meant to put him on edge.

“Bradley,”

“It was my mom.” He finally whispers after a beat.

Your hand clings to his shirt, your heart breaking. It wasn’t a malicious question. You had no ill intent when you asked. Clearly you didn’t think it through, not really. The far away glaze to his eyes made you want to shove the words right back down your throat. How do you fix this? How could you fix this?

“The last person I told I love you to was you.”

You almost didn’t hear it. A frown taking up your face as your eyes meet his own. Bradley’s staring down at you, adoration slowly creeping over his face. His eyes have gone soft, something you’ve noticed they only do when he’s looking at you. Confusion sweeps over you. When the hell has he ever told you he loved you? Without a doubt you know that you’d say it back. Because you do. You love Bradley. You love him so much that it hurts sometimes.

The corner of his lips pick up, as if hearing your thoughts. “You’re always asleep, a little too drunk, or walking away.”

Why, why would he do that? Stepping closer, hands gripping his shirt, refusing to let him move an inch away from you. Your head tilts up, nose bumping against his. Is this what pushes you over the edge? A hidden confession brought to light.

“Were you afraid I wouldn’t say it back?”

“No,” he whispers, pulling you into him, body flush against his. “Wasn’t sure if I was ready–”

“–to hear someone else say it.” Bradley nods, resting his forehead against your own. “Are you ready now?”

He smiles, lips ghosting over yours. “I love you, sweet girl.”

You can’t help but smile back. You push up on your toes, lips meshing with his. A perfect fit. You melt against him. Hands trailing up his arms, over his shoulders before gipping the back of his neck. A quick taste before you’re pulling back, teeth digging into your bottom lip. Bradley’s eyes are blown wide, gaze fixed on your lips.

“I love you too, Bradley.”

His name is on the tip of your tongue. It echoes through you, a phantom pain that will always bring tears to your eyes. You’re not sure how long it’ll take before you can sleep in the middle of the bed, to touch his side. Your eyes squeeze shut, not wanting to see the perfectly made up side.

Not after the dream you had. Right, yeah. Dream. A nightmare. A memory.

It’s the first time you’ve slept in your bed, in your room. You’re facing his side, everything exactly how he left it. Half full bottle of water sitting next to a picture of his parents on the nightstand. A white hamper next to his closet, the left door barely open. You roll on to your back, eyes opening to stare up at the ceiling. I love you, sweet girl. The words roll over you, making your skin raise with gooseflesh, the hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

Fuck. Why did you think you could do this? No one else did. As if on cue, the doorbell rings, making you jump. You know you look like shit, not that it should come as a surprise to anybody. Slowly, you slink from the bed, keeping your eyes cast to the floor. You count each step, anything that’ll distract you.

It’s twenty-nine steps from your bed to the front door. You aren’t surprised when Jake and Natasha are standing there. Jake’s lips are pulled into a hard line, and Nat’s not even trying to hide her worry. Leaning back, closing the door, you check the clock hanging on the wall. 10:33 am. Swallowing, you face them, a raised brow.

“What’s–what uh, why are you here?”

“Your phone’s off.” Jake bites out, pushing past you and into the house.

You roll your eyes. “I’m not on suicide watch. I’ve been cleared.”

“Yeah, well, those fucking shrinks don’t know you like I do.”

Rubbing at your eyes, your temples, you head to the kitchen. Jake and Nat sit on either side of you. While he stares at you, annoyance gracing his features, Natasha can’t hide her worry. She picks at her cuticles, eyes flickering around the small space.

“Are you okay?” you ask her, hand pausing her fingers.

“It’s quiet here. Almost too quiet.”

You swallow thickly. You had noticed that too. No sports games playing on the television. The piano sits untouched—you refuse to look at it. It breaks your heart, because it’s only collecting dust now. You haven’t known this kind of quiet since before. You never thought there’d be an after. It’ll grow on you, you think. There is no other choice. Your hand pulls down your shirt, covering your stomach. Jake doesn’t miss the movement, eyes narrowing.

It’s been three months. You’ve been grounded for multiple reasons, despite being cleared. Penny had taken you in, nursed you back to health. It seems like everyone knows that you couldn’t be on your own. But you aren’t, not really. You’re finally comfortable with moving back into your shared space. It’s where you want to raise your child. A home that was filled with love and happiness. A home that was all you and Bradley.

“Sweetheart,” your eyes snap to Jake’s, that familiar green glistening with concern. “I made a promise. You will take care of yourself, I will force you if I have to.”

“I know.”

Your world was crumbling before your very eyes. Alarms blaring, lights flashing, smoke billowing all around. Rooster’s voice rang out in your head, giving you orders. When did you ever take orders from him—even if it was to save your life?  

“—now! This is not a dog fight you can win!”

You can hear his voice, but the words aren’t registering. Straight through one ear and out the other. Not like it matters. In only a few seconds, a blink of an eye, a gasp of your breath, Rooster is shot down.

Nothing else matters. Not even the enemy turning and firing at you.

You can’t hear anything. Not the roar of the enemy aircraft hovering over you. Not your heart beating desperately, trying to get out of the cage that is your ribs – desperate to find Bradley. Time doesn’t seem to be moving. Slowly your body comes screaming back to you. It hurts, mainly your left shoulder, but that isn’t going to fucking stop you. With every ounce of strength you have you get to your feet. Clenching your teeth to stop your scream, your helmet is pulled over your head. There’s no sign of blood, not that you believe, not that you can tell any different.

Rooster. Where the fuck is Rooster? Tilting your head up, eyes scanning the sky, you look for smoke. There it is. North. You start running. It hurts. God, it fucking hurts and you’ll pay for it later. If it saves him now though, it’s all worth it. He’s worth it.

You look like a goddamn vision running to him. His own living, breathing angel. Bradley’s gaze shifts. This isn’t right. No. No. He didn’t ever want to tell you. Scared that his love was a curse, a prophecy. It’s like he knew – he knew if he said it he’d end up following in his father’s footsteps. Bradley couldn’t do that to you.

“Bradley, Brad – look at me, baby. I got you.”

You’re ripping off everything, trying to stop the bleeding. He huffs out a garbled laugh, large hands holding on to your own. Teardrops hit your skin and you’re not sure whose they are.

“Bradley,”

There’s a faraway look in his eyes. He smiles. You know, you know. It’s the first time he’s seeing his parents in years, and you are not enough to keep him here.

Time moves quickly. Blood sticks to your skin. He stopped breathing a while ago. You aren’t leaving, you aren’t letting go. Smart pilot, he had his beacon. Is it the cold that numbs you? The silence? Or is it the secret you kept rolling like seasick butterflies in your stomach? Tearfilled eyes lift to meet familiar sea glass ones when his warm hands gently pry yours from Bradley’s. Hangman can’t hide his wince, seeing Rooster’s dog tags embedded into your palms from squeezing them so tight. Past him you see a chopper. They’ve come for you. They’ve come for the both of you.

“Salem,”

“I tried. I–I, I tried. I tried so hard, but it wasn't enough.”

The piano taunts you. Whispers your name, echoes in his voice. God, you miss his voice. Jake’s passed out on the couch, Natasha’s in the spare room. Nat stayed because Jake did. Jake stayed, well, because he cares, you guess. You don’t care about either of them at the moment. Your fingers itching to touch the keys. Natasha had mentioned earlier how quiet the house was. You hadn’t said anything, not wanting to lie.

Sinking onto the bench, your fingers hover over the keys. It’s two in the morning and you should be in bed. You are pregnant after all. But the little thing seems to find comfort here, same as you. They are their father’s child.

Softly, slowly, you plunk at the keys. Your voice is gentle, barely above a whisper. It’s etched in pain, an unrequited goodbye.

Don’t you know I’m no good for you? I’ve learned to lose, you can’t afford to Tore my shirt to stop you bleeding But nothing ever stops you leaving

The sound of floorboards creaking makes you pause. Tears spill down your cheeks at the sight of your friends watching you. They both rush you when you begin to sob. Chest aching, throat closing. You’ll be okay eventually. Because you know better than to believe that Bradley would’ve ever left you on your own.