#so seductive

[jupitercomet]

The Aftermath

summary - Living in a new apartment, you run into your neighbor all the time. You run into him in the hallway, on the elevator, at your best friend's bachelorette party where he's dressed as a sexy firefighter. After seeing him in nothing but a pair spandex briefs and suspenders, you know have to move. Or sleep with him. One of the two.

warnings - stripper au, tangled dynamic, language, reader has a bit of a shameful relationship with her sexuality, smut (masterbation, fingering, oral fem receiving, slight corruption kink, light choking) no use of y/n, Bradley is 6'7" because I said so

I recommend listening to the playlist for this!

this blog is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 3.4k

so seductive masterlist

Okay, so Bradley’s a stripper.

Weirdly this fact only hits you later… After you bolted out of the private room in the club, shoved your way past other patrons, and locked yourself in a stall in the women's restroom. Yeah, not your proudest moment.

From where you’re sitting on the closed toilet, you balance your elbows on your thighs and drop your head into your hands. A shaky sigh leaves your lips. How could this be happening? How, in the span of minutes, could you have ruined everything? Because Bradley had been almost naked in front of you, and he asked you if you wanted to touch him—if you liked touching him—and you said yes, and now he knows that. 

You can’t even begin to think about what he must think of you now. Surely you’ve tainted his opinion of you, now that he knows you have inappropriate thoughts about him, now that you’ve acted on them.

You suck in a breath. Bradley was the best thing that’s happened to you since you’ve moved. And somehow you’ve managed to mess it all up in one night. You can’t face him tonight. You just can’t. You don’t even know what to say.

It could have been minutes, it could have been half an hour, but suddenly the bathroom door opens and you hear Callie calling out your name. Wordlessly, you unlock the stall door, pushing it open to alert Callie where you are. 

She squats down in front of you with a sad smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply pitifully.

“How you feelin’?”

“Don’t know,” you shrug, wiping your face. Your eyes dart to the bathroom door and anxiety rises in your stomach. “Is Bradley gone?”

“Very reluctantly.” Callie gives you a knowing look. “He wanted to go after you when you left, but I convinced him to give you some space for a bit. You can spend the night at my place tonight.”

You nod numbly, hardly taking in what Callie’s telling you and instead trying to fight that panicked feeling in your stomach at the thought of seeing Bradley again. You can’t, not after this.

“I’m sorry I ruined your bachelorette party.”

Callie meets your eyes sternly. “You didn’t ruin anything.” She grabs your hand before shooting you another smile. “Besides, ending a night of getting twerked on by having a sleepover with my best friend? Best bachelorette party ever!”

You can’t help but giggle. “I knew you’d like him,” you admit. When Callie makes a face, you clarify, “The stripper. I saw him going to Bradley’s once and I knew you’d think he was cute.”

“Honey please, did you see that man? Everyone thinks he’s cute. But I’m an engaged woman now,” she pretends to look disappointed by that, but you both know she’s anything but.

“Now come on,” she pats your thigh. “I’m tired and wanna watch a movie before we crash.”

The two of you do just that when you get back to Callie’s house, landing on Clueless and only getting halfway through before Callie can’t keep her eyes open any longer and you both go to bed. You’re grateful for her keeping your mind off everything and for giving you a place to stay, since it’s hard to avoid Bradley when he’s your neighbor. 

You’ve been avoiding your phone since you got to Callie’s, unable to actually open the various texts that Bradley has sent you.

Bradley: Can we please talk?

Bradley: Please princess

You can still see the look of shock on his face when he realized it was you. You can still feel him under your fingertips. You toss and turn in Callie’s guest bedroom, practically begging yourself to fall asleep, but all you can think about is Bradley. It’s like when you heard him through the wall all over again, except this time you have visual fuel to add to your imagination.

He was so sturdy underneath you. And when you held his… You’ve never held one before. And his felt so big and thick. You bite your lip in thought. You’re already a terrible person for taking advantage of Bradley the way you did, would feeding into your desires right now be that much worse?

Slowly you slide your hand under your waistband, closing your eyes as memories of Bradley’s defined body flash through your mind. You can still hear his voice in your ear, guiding your hands all over his body. You wonder how his hands would feel on your body. They’re so big and rough, they’d probably feel so good, and his fingers are so thick, you can only imagine how they’d feel—

You let out a gasp when one of your fingers slides inside you. It’s nice, but it feels nothing close to what you think Bradley would feel like. The thought makes you almost groan in frustration. This isn’t enough.

You try to think harder, adding another finger and pumping them in and out slowly. You try to imagine Bradley guiding you through it, with his rough voice and that teasing lilt that always makes your thighs clench. You try to imagine him all over you, manhandling you anyway he wanted—he could do it, you know he could. You imagine his hands and mouth all over you, his weight on top of you as he grinds into you.

You keep picturing it all until your fingers physically get tired and then the frustration comes back. Because your fingers aren’t Bradley’s. You pull your hand from your shorts unsatisfied, flopping onto your stomach with a groan.

You’re so screwed.

You’re not proud of how the next couple of days go. You avoid Bradley like the plague, ignoring all his texts and only leaving your apartment once you’re sure he’s gone for the day. He’s tried knocking on your door a couple times, but you leave them unanswered and eventually he gives up and goes away. You feel terrible ignoring him, but every time you try to build up the courage to talk to him, you remember all the mortifying things he now knows about you.

By using your peephole religiously and booking it from the elevator to your apartment every time you go out, you manage to avoid Bradley for a week, but, finally, you’re forced to confront him.

He must have come home for his lunch break, something you were not accounting for when you finally left your apartment in the early afternoon. It was almost comical the way the elevator doors opened at the exact moment you locked your front door, revealing Bradley’s broad frame, a pinched look on his face.

He jerks up in surprise when he sees you—you’re sure your own face drops—and takes a quick step out of the elevator. “Princess—”

Before he can get the next word out, you’re jamming your key into your door, unlocking it, bolting inside, and slamming the wood in his face.

No, no, no, no, no. This isn’t happening.

As you pace in panic, you hear Bradley start knocking on your door harshly. “Princess, open the door.”

You try to ignore him, but the knocking doesn’t stop and you know that Bradley won’t go away. Pascal seems to know it too as he hops off the couch and leaves to go anywhere that isn’t the powder keg that is your living room. You wish you could do the same, but you’re an adult, not a cat, and that means you have to face your adult problems like your friend-neighbor-crush mistakenly grinding his body over you.

The knocking finally stops when you open your front door sheepishly and Bradley’s standing there, body taking up the entire frame. He’s fuming, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. You suddenly feel like maybe you shouldn’t have opened the door.

“Is this how you handle all your problems, princess?” He takes a commanding step into your apartment that has you taking a step back to keep up. “You just run away from them?”

He’s still walking into the apartment, kicking the door closed behind him, and you know that soon enough you’ll run out of space and end up backed against a wall—literally. Bradley doesn’t stop though, not until you’re finally pressed against the wall and he’s so close you can almost feel him breathing.

You try to defuse the situation. “I wasn’t running away—”

“Yes, you were,” Bradley interrupts you. “You ran away from me just now, you ran away from me a week ago, you ran away from me that day after we first met.” He lists them off on his fingers. “And I didn’t say anything because, hey, if that’s how you wanna handle it, fine. But then you completely stop talking to me? Was that your plan? To just never talk to me again?”

“I—”

Suddenly Bradley’s face morphs and you can see the hurt under his anger. “We’re friends, princess. You can’t just— I’m sorry if what happened made you uncomfortable or… or if what I do somehow changes things. But I’d rather you just tell me that than—”

“Bradley, no!” You shake your head frantically. “No, that’s not— It has nothing to do with that. I just—” Your mouth falls open dumbly as words fail you. Because what can you say? That he made you touch yourself and you're embarrassed?

“Did that night make you uncomfortable?” Bradley questions you bluntly.

You shake your head, looking up at him earnestly.

There’s a beat. “Did you like it?”

You don’t say anything, your mouth suddenly dry. Visibly, Bradley’s eyes darken and something shifts in the air. His head drops to your ear, his lips ghosting the shell of it as his hand props himself against the wall just by your head.

“Did you like it, princess?” He asks again. “Is that what it is? Did you touch yourself thinking about it?” His breath sends shivers down your spine. “Did you wish it was me touching you?”

You realize you’re holding your breath and it’s only when you let out a shaky exhale that you’re able to relax your clenched thighs. Your stomach feels hot, your face feels hotter, but you can’t stop the way your eyes flutter closed.

Bradley continues, his voice still a raspy whisper. “What do you imagine? My fingers?” A hand falls to your ass and he squeezes the skin. “My mouth?” He dips his lips down from your ear to press the ghost of a kiss on your neck. “Or did you want them both? Selfish girl.” Bradley chuckles lowly. “My spoiled princess.”

You whimper, the sound strained and desperate and hardly recognizable as your voice.

“C’mere.”

Before you can fully register the growl leaving Bradley’s lips, his large finger is nudging your chin upward and he’s catching your lips with his. He’s swallowing your gasp of surprise hungrily, his hand on the wall falling to hold you loosely by the side of your neck. Kissing Bradley is like everything you thought it would be—soft and protective—and your stomach feels like a swarm of butterflies as he strokes your cheek. 

His other hand travels down under your thigh, hiking it up against his hip, and you lean up against the wall for support. He doesn’t seem to like that though, yanking you closer to him with a soft nip at your bottom lip. The sting feels foreign, but not unpleasant, and you hesitantly lift your hands up to tangle into his hair.

“Where’s your bedroom, princess?” Bradley whispers against your lips.

You point at the door, letting out a squeak of surprise when he lifts you suddenly, attaching his lips to your neck as he blindly fumbles with opening the door and setting you down on your bed. Your hands reach for him almost as soon as he lets go of you, a whine caught in the back of your throat.

Bradley chuckles. “Yeah, we’ve established how much you like touchin’ me, but now it’s my turn.” His eyes trail over you hungrily as his fingers quickly pull his shirt off and, as the fabric hits the floor, it hits you how real this is.

“I’ve—” You look down shyly and try not to squirm uncomfortably. “I’ve never done this before, Bradley.”

“Hey,” Bradley tips your chin up with his finger, his eyes softening and his voice smoothing into that comforting tone you’re used to. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you want to stop here—”

You grab his hand frantically to cut him off. “No!” You shake your head. “No, please Bradley, I don’t want to stop, I— I tried to do it by myself, but I couldn’t— I—” You know you sound desperate, but maybe a part of you is. You’ve basically been teasing yourself because your fingers can’t do what you want them to—what Bradley’s fingers could do. 

“You haven’t gotten yourself off?” Bradley’s jaw clenches as he watches you plead with him, something almost restrained in his voice. When you only nod pitifully, he chuckles darkly. “You saying I already ruined you and I haven’t even touched you yet?”

The thought seems to invigorate him as he drops forward to start kissing you again, fiddling with the button of your jeans and sliding down the zipper. Just like you imagined, his hands are all over you, his mouth traveling down to your neck as he undresses you quickly. 

This time you actually do whine when he pulls away from you, but it’s short lived when he starts to situate himself between your thighs, tracing the seams of your panties with his index finger.

“What’d you think about when you were touching yourself?”

You swallow thickly. “W-What?”

Bradley finger travels dangerously close to your clit before he lets it fall back down against the fabric of your panties. “What’d you think about when you were touching yourself?” He repeats. 

“...You,” you admit.

Bradley smirks. “Oh, yeah? What was I doing?”

“I don’t—” You squirm uncomfortably, trying to get more friction from Bradley’s teasing. “I don’t know. Bradley, please—”

“Yes, you do.”

His fingers stop touching you completely and you throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to fight through the embarrassment of voicing your dirty thoughts. “Your, um, your fingers were inside me— Ah!” Your back arches when Bradley suddenly pulls your panties to the side, pushing a thick finger inside you and stroking it slowly against your walls.

“Like this?” He teases, pausing for a moment to pull your panties off completely.

You nod frantically as he keeps pumping his finger inside you, stretching his thumb to rub tight circles against your clit. You twist your face into the pillows to muffle yourself as a loud moan leaves your mouth. Suddenly, Bradley’s hovering over you—his finger now thrusting into you faster—his other hand around your neck, rolling you onto your back again.

“Did I say you could hide those pretty sounds from me?” He questions lowly, his fingers giving a quick squeeze to the sides of your throat. When you shake your head, he shakes his own condescendingly. “No, I didn’t.” Bradley adds his ring finger, stretching you out against him as he keeps your eyes locked on his. Another strangled moan leaves you, no longer muffled by the cotton of your pillowcase, and Bradley smirks. “That’s better, princess.”

His fingers keep up their steady pace, making you feel fuller than your own fingers ever could, and his hand keeps its place on your throat, his eyes watching every moan and gasp of pleasure you let out.

“Bradley!—” You grab onto his wrist for support. “I’m gonna—”

It feels like something snapping when you finally orgasm, your hips lifting off the bed as Bradley smashes his lips against yours, swallowing the noises you make as he works you through your high. The sweet feeling of release finally washes over you as Bradley slowly pulls his fingers out of you. You watch with hazy eyes as he sticks them into his mouth, letting out a noise as he sucks them clean.

“Fuck, I gotta taste you, princess.”

He throws both your legs over his shoulders, large hands holding them open as he presses a soft kiss to your mound before flattening his tongue out against your hole. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire when he groans into your pussy, his head nestled between your thighs as if he’s trying to suffocate himself with your arousal.

“Bradley!” You whine, still not fully recovered from your last orgasm as he builds you up to another one. Your fingers tangle into his curls, tugging on them harshly, and his grunt of pleasure vibrates through you.

“You know how long I’ve been thinking about you?” Bradley almost seems to be talking to himself in between laps at your pussy, the words coming out rough and sultry. “About how fucking good you taste?” The tip of his tongue sinks inside you and you buck your hips at the feeling, smashing your clit into his nose. “Had to get myself off that first night. I knew you could hear me.” He lifts his head suddenly, a cocky look in his eyes. “You touch yourself to that too?”

“Yes, Bradley, yes!” You might have not admitted that so brazenly if it wasn’t for the fact that you wanted Bradley to shut up and get his mouth on you again. You try to shove his head back where you wanted, but he doesn’t budge.

“Bet you couldn’t cum though,” he muses. “Only I can make you feel this good.”

As if it’s a fact that can’t be disputed—and, honestly, it probably is—Bradley goes back to eating you out, somehow even more confident, which you didn’t think was possible. Even as you orgasm for the second time, he doesn’t let up, only pulling you closer by your hips as the lewd sounds his mouth is making fill the room alongside your whines. Your hips jerk at the overstimulation, your body moving higher on the mattress with all your jolting.

Bradley’s grip tightens on your hips as he drags you back to him, lifting his head slightly to look at you. “I thought we said no more running away, princess.”

“But—” You whine.

“Take it.” He orders and then, with a soft kiss to the inside of your knee, “I know you can, honey. You’re being such a good girl for me.”

The praise goes straight to your head and you melt into the mattress as Bradley dives back in. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly he makes you fall over the edge again, with his tongue inside you and his nose pressed against your clit, but you arch your back with a loud cry, your eyes rolling back. It’s only when you're heaving and twitching that Bradley pulls away from your core with a satisfied look on his face. The expression softens when he takes in your blissful smile.

“Feel good, princess?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Thank you.”

Bradley responds with a slow kiss, finger stroking your cheek even when he pulls away slightly. It takes you a couple seconds to register the hard length that’s pressing against your thigh and you frown slightly, shifting to get up as you’re hit with the thought that Bradley has yet to be alleviated. 

“What about you?”

Bradley shakes his head, hands ushering you back to your soft pillows. “Tonight’s about you, princess.”

“Are you sure?” You look at him hesitantly.

“I’m sure,” Bradley seems to find humor in your question. “Next time.”

You like the sound of that.

After another breath, you tentatively let your hand come up to cup Bradley’s cheek as your eyes fill with earnesty. “I’m… I’m really sorry that I avoided you, I just didn’t know what to do—”

“Shh, shh,” Bradley hushes you with a kiss. “Tomorrow, princess. We can talk about everything tomorrow. Right now, let me just clean you up.” 

After another kiss and a squeeze to the hand you have cupping his cheek, Bradley gets up to go to the bathroom. You wait for the door to close behind him before exhaustion hits you and you sink back into the sheets. So much is running through your head and you’re too tired to figure any of it out, but one thought rings louder than the rest. 

Whatever this is with Bradley, you want to keep doing it.

join my Bradley Bradshaw taglist here or follow my library @jupitercometgold

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Bradley taglist:

@parrish-will-perrish

@bobblebobsbae

@takemetooneverlanddd

@queerqueenlynn

@emma8895eb

@averyhotchner

@shanimallina87

@yuckosworld

@rosedurin

@thatdammchickennugget

@sailor-aviator

@kmc1989

@desert-fern

@sammyrenae68

@cottagecori

@sailor-aviator

@thelonelyumbrella

@babyyy2020

@topherwrites

@ysl-bby

@khaylin27

@owenniasstars

@caramelkatsukis-bitch

@volleyballgirl2022

@dinosun

@lonelywitchv2

@theweekndhistorybook

@ernie0195

@diorrfairy

@bellaireland1981

@loveofvernonslife

@cheesecakeinahole

@eloquentdreamer

@na-ta-sh-aa

@devylindisguise

@eternallyvenus

@midnightmagpiemama

@nobystanderz

@rhettsluvr

@sarcasm-n-insomnia

@goldenseresinretriever

@mattyskies

@talkfastromance4

@ho3forfakeguys

@avengersfan25

@unhinged-btch

[camiflores]

Cool how will you feel sucking this

[fkmarrycill]

The sweet boyfriend with a naughty side, who gets you doing all the things you never thought you'd do... 🔥

[lesbiangummybearmafia]

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

I'm from another country

Some other distant land

[jupitercomet]

The Highly Anticipated Bacherolette Party

summary - Living in a new apartment, you run into your neighbor all the time. You run into him in the hallway, on the elevator, at your best friend's bachelorette party where he's dressed as a sexy firefighter. After seeing him in nothing but a pair spandex briefs and suspenders, you know have to move. Or sleep with him. One of the two.

warnings - stripper au, tangled dynamic, language, no use of y/n, mentions of drinking, stripping, sexual touching?? idk, Bradley is 6'7" because I said so, chapter specific

this blog is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 3.3k

so seductive masterlist

“You’re not allergic to sesame, are you?”

You perk up when Bradley calls to you over his shoulder, raising his voice slightly to be heard above the sizzling pan in his hand. The scent of teriyaki steak wafts through the room and you know Pascal is completely jealous of you right now. Not that you blame him, you also didn’t expect to be waiting comfortably on a couch as your incredibly hot neighbor cooks food for you.

You wet your lips, ignoring the slight sting as you take in his question. You’d lost your chapstick somewhere on your walk to work and haven’t found the time to get another one so, for the moment, your lips are paying for it. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” Bradley narrows his eyes at you, turning down the heat as you start to take up more of his attention.

“I mean, to my knowledge, I don’t have one,” you shrug. “I haven’t really thought about it. But I’m not dead yet, so—”

You bite back a grin when Bradley lets out a scoff, placing an exasperated hand on his hip as a dish towel stays thrown over his shoulder. He looks like an overworked housewife in the best way, lips pursed as he glares at you. “Princess, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I genuinely have no idea how you’ve survived this long,” he starts and then you can’t stop yourself from giggling, doubling over on the couch as Bradley’s expression quickly shifts to confusion and then amused understanding. “You’re messing with me,” he concludes. 

“I am,” you agree through your laughter. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Bradley shakes his head fondly, turning back to the kitchen to start plating the food. “More ridiculous than Ms. Tillard.”

Your jaw drops. “No, I’m not! Bradley, she tried to get you to fix her shower at 2:00 in the morning!”

“Don’t forget the skimpy bathrobe,” Bradley adds, making his way over to you and popping a bite of broccoli in his mouth. 

He plops down directly next to you, large bicep brushing against yours as he settles and hands you your plate of teriyaki steak. You thank him for it quietly, before delving back into the conversation at hand.

“Exactly, I’m not worse than her. I’ve never done that.”

“Hey now, I never said I’d be mad if you did that,” Bradley corrects you quickly, a smug smile on his face when you visibly fluster.

You shove his shoulder with a roll of your eyes, trying to hide how heated your face is. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m just saying, princess,” Bradley holds his hands up (well, one hand. The hand that’s not busy holding his plate raises with his fork in between his fingers) with a cheeky grin. “If you ever want to wake me up in the middle of the night, wearing lingerie and telling me deeply intimate stories about your ex husband, I would not object in the slightest.”

While the thought of Bradley openly admiring you in lingerie has you hot for a whole different reason, you ignore the feeling, shrugging off his words with a humorless chuckle. “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have an ex husband. That would require me to have, you know, dated someone.”

The words come out more awkward than you mean them to, perhaps the definition of oversharing now that you think about it, and you wish that you could take them back as soon as they leave your mouth. If Bradley agrees, he doesn’t say anything, instead his eyes almost seem to darken and then he’s looking away from you and shoving a carrot in his mouth.

You follow his lead, finally digging into the food in front of you. The second it reaches your taste buds, you let out a sound of delight. “Bradley, this is so good!” You take another bite hastily.

Bradley’s cooking abilities had been a surprise to you the first time you finally came over. Actually, everything about the encounter had been a bit of a surprise. You hadn’t entirely known what to expect when you and Bradley finally set a concrete date and time to hangout. The two of you had been toying around it over text, which you felt much more comfortable communicating on in the beginning. It was so much easier to get your words out clearly without having to also look at his cute face.

But maybe the two of you had grown too comfortable with small talk you could respond to at your convenience or, as Callie had so nicely put it, both stupidly thought you’d mess up a face-to-face interaction. (Which you had valid reasons for, but Callie refused to hear it). With a push from her and a motivational talk with Pascal, you and Bradley finally made the plans that would require you to walk approximately five feet from your front door.

You were nervous, of course you were. You like to think that Bradley was a little nervous too—with the way he opened the door before you could even knock and the light flush on his face that never seemed to quite go away. Was he as nervous as you suddenly became when you caught sight of the open door to his bedroom and were reminded of all the things you know he does in said bedroom? Maybe not, but he was nervous for a moment and you take some pride in that.

The two of you sat on opposite ends of the couch and stiffly talked about things like the weather, before Bradley offered to make some food and that was when you first learned that he was an excellent chef. Cooking seemed to put Bradley in his element, making him more relaxed, and his easygoingness resulted in you relaxing a bit more too. The two of you fell back into how it was over text and, while laughing with him over some gossip about one of your other neighbors, you realized that Callie had been right. Maybe the two of you had just been a little scared.

After that, you and Bradley started seeing each other more regularly. You have standing dinners every Saturday, though often see each other far more throughout the week. If Bradley had a long day, he’d send you a quick text and leave the door unlocked for you. If you had a long day, you’d just show up unannounced.

You’re sure that your mother and father would have an aneurysm if they knew about your friendship with the man. He was everything you were taught to avoid growing up and also somewhat of a stranger (the first time you met him, at least). He cursed, and told vulgar jokes, and hadn’t gone to college. And part of you worried that you were so interested in Bradley as a way to spite your parents about the sheltered upbringing they forced upon you, but you knew in your heart that wasn’t true.

Bradley’s a good person, you know that. And you know that anything your dad thinks about him is entirely false because there’s not just one way to be a good person. You’re not sure what you grew up thinking even makes you a good person. Because Bradley is kind and funny, he carries your groceries and makes you laugh when you’ve had a bad day. He helps you with things you don’t totally understand, like talking to your landlord or building IKEA furniture. He does all that because that’s just the kind of person he is, you’ve learned, a good person. And your family—your father especially—would never do something like that. So what exactly does that say about you?

You feel a thick finger press gently into your temple.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Bradley teases. “Care to share with the class, princess?”

You purse your lips, embarrassed to have been caught falling into this spiral that you find yourself in often. You don’t really want to ruin the mood of the night and you feel as though you’ve overshared enough. Talking to Bradley has really shown you just how privileged you are and if your biggest problem is simply morality maybe you shouldn’t be talking at all.

Bradley’s face softens as he must read something across your features. He moves his hand again, but instead of poking you, he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Or you could tell me how Callie’s wedding planning is going.”

He’s giving you an out and you smile softly. Bradley’s a good person.

“It’s good,” you say and you take another bite of food because it’s delicious. “I can’t believe how close it’s getting.”

“Have you finished planning the bachelorette party?” Bradley asks.

“Oh.” You deflate. “I’m actually not planning that.” You try to shrug it off, though you’ve never been good at that, so you’re sure it’s not successful.

From your peripheral, you see Bradley furrow his brows. “You’re the maid of honor though.”

“Yeah, I— One of Callie’s work friends really wanted to plan it and I was busy moving at the time. Plus I’m not super knowledgeable about that stuff. Everyone thought it would be easier.” You shrug.

It’s silent for a moment as Bradley sets down his plate and you fear you might have overshared again. “You can plan my bachelorette party,” he offers suddenly.

The words catch you off guard and you can’t stop the giggles that suddenly spill from your lips. “What?”

“You heard me,” Bradley shoots you a lopsided smile. “You can plan my bachelorette party. We can wear those sashes and everything can be dick shaped. Just—” He grins. “No strippers please.”

Your jaw drops. “Strippers? Bradley, don’t be crass.”

“It’s settled then,” Bradley teases and then he’s patting your knee. “Now finish your food, I know you didn’t have lunch today.”

How Bradley knows that, you have no idea, but you’re sure your guilty expression confirms it and you quickly start digging in again, giving him a sheepish smile as your cheeks puff out with food. He just snorts at your expression, picking up his food again with a shake of his head.

“Ridiculous,” he reiterates and you grin.

Regardless of what’s actually right and wrong in the world, at least you know that Bradley Bradshaw is a good person.

You feel like a football player with how many drunk girls you’re dodging and weaving through—or at least, this is what you imagine football players feel like, maybe it takes more than just barreling through intoxicated women and dodging off-rhythm elbows. Finally, you make it to Callie with an over dramatic sigh of relief as you plop down next to her on the vinyl upholstery of your booth.

Callie’s work friend Lucy had gone all out for her bachelorette party, renting out a private room at a popular club and providing you all with copious amounts of alcohol. Callie seems to be having the time of her life, wearing her white bride sash across her body proudly and a cute tiara that’s sliding off her head. You’re dressed similarly—though your sash is pink—and you can feel the combs of your tiara just above your ears. All and all, everyone seems to be having a good time and you’re happy that it turned out this way because you doubt you could have pulled off anything near this.

When Callie catches your thoughtful expression, she wraps her arm around yours, pushing a shot towards you. “You are not drunk enough,” she tells you knowingly, collapsing all her weight onto you.

You take the shot quickly, wincing at the taste, holding up the shot glass as if to prove it to Callie. “And you may be too drunk,” you note, noticing the way she’s resting her head on your shoulder. “Do you want me to get you some water?”

“No!” Callie stops you quickly, perking up suddenly before pushing at you to let you both out of the booth. “Lucy said she has a surprise in our private room and, as my maid of honor, you legally can’t miss this.”

You laugh as Callie drags you through the crowd of people dancing, faring much better than you did, but you’d always known she’d be a better football player out of the two of you. “What? You gonna sue me or something?”

“Why do you think I’m marrying Billy? It’s so I can sue you whenever I feel like it.” Though drunk, Callie comes up with the quip quickly and you shake your head with a giggle as she shoves you into the private room.

Most of your party is already inside, all about as drunk as Callie, watching as Lucy clears the few tables in the room and drags two chairs into an open space.

“Callie!” She lights up when she sees the bride-to-be and for the second time tonight, you’re being dragged by a drunk woman. “And maid of honor! You totally need to be here too.”

Before you can ask any questions, Lucy is pressing on your shoulders—and for such a small woman, she is strong—causing you to plop into one of the empty chairs as Callie sits in the other one.

Lucy claps excitedly. “Okay! Just stay like that, alright? They should be here any second.”

“They?” You turn your head to Callie slowly, but your best friend just shrugs.

It takes another minute of sitting in a chair in the middle of an almost empty room before you’re ready to start asking questions again and you open your mouth, but the words die on your tongue when the lights suddenly dim and color changing stage lights take their place, moving over the room slowly. Lucy squeals as the door to the room opens and… is that a fog machine?

“Hot in Herre” suddenly starts blasting through the speakers and then three men are entering the room clad in thick jackets and— Did someone call the fire department?

One of the fire fighters stops in the middle of the room, scanning you all with a smirk on his face and there’s something about him that’s strangely familiar. The music dies down a bit as he struts around the room.

“We’re here about the fire.” Your eyebrows jump in alarm. Fire?! If there’s a fire, why are these guys just standing there? “But the only hot stuff I’m seeing is you ladies,” he continues before turning to his compatriot. “Wouldn’t you say so, Coyote?”

The other guy—Coyote—grins, locking eyes with Lucy. “Definitely.”

It’s not until one of your friends shouts “Take your clothes off!” that you realize what’s going on and you whip your head to look at Callie in a panic. “Oh my god, they’re strippers?”

“Bitch, what did you think they were?” She laughs and you’re too embarrassed to admit you honestly thought they were a part of the San Diego Fire Department so you just keep your mouth shut.

…For approximately one second, when your brain finally pieces together something else. “Wait,” you whisper hiss, gesturing to the chair you’re sitting on. “Are they gonna give us lap dances?!”

Before Callie can answer, Firefighter number one grabs your attention again, the song switching to something you don’t recognize—though it’s still fire related, you’re sure. “Well, if we’re here… Why don’t we give you ladies a show?”

The room erupts in cheers and suddenly the lights are blinding and all three men are ripping off their jackets to reveal spandex briefs, suspenders, and baby oiled abdominals. The rest of your party looks elated at this development, but you’re sure your face shows nothing short of horror because you finally realize where you’ve seen Firefighter number one from. He was the blond guy from the elevator that was heading over to Bradley’s place that day you and Bradley talked for the second time. And Coyote, you recognize him too! He was also there. And the third guy—

Oh no.

No, this can not be happening.

“Where’s the bride, huh?” Firefighter number one smirks, directing his attention to you and Callie who are both frozen in your chairs. “Hey, sweetheart. Aren’t you a pretty thing?”

Firefighter number one seemed focused on Callie, and Coyote had already moved to entertain the rest of your friends, and Lucy had sat you down in a chair which meant that she expected you to also… interact with the strippers, and the only one left was—

You duck your head down quickly, hoping the darkness of the room can hide your features from Bradley as he makes his way over to you. Suddenly all you can think about is his voice through your wall the first night you moved in. Would he sound like that now? What if he called you a good girl? How could you come back from that?!

Bradley’s deep chuckle cuts off your thoughts and you have to hold your breath because he’s now close enough that you’re making the choice between making direct eye contact with either his abs or his… package. “Shy, honey?” He questions softly and your thighs clench.

You’re not strong enough for this. You’re not strong enough for this. You’re not strong enough for this. You’re not strong enough—

To your right, Callie is pretending to throw money on her stripper with a loud cackle, having a much better time than you as you try to figure out how to get through this interaction without Bradley realizing that he’s strip-teasing his neighbor.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Bradley’s voice is raspy as he gently takes your hand and slides it across his defined muscles. “We can do this nice and slow…” 

Inside you’re screaming, but you know you can’t say anything because then he’d definitely recognize you. Instead, you keep your eyes trained on his massive thighs, teeth clamped down on your tongue as he drags your hand over his bare chest. He pauses this exploration suddenly, reaching his other hand up to fix the tiara you’ve long since forgotten about.

“This is cute. You a princess or something?”

Your eyes widen at the name and you shake your head vigorously, eyes now trained on his shoes. He can’t recognize you!

Bradley laughs are your reaction. “Alright, alright. Not a princess, got it. But since you’re answering questions now…” His grip on your hand suddenly tightens and he leans over to whisper, “You like touchin’ me here?” He emphasizes the words with another stroke of your hand over his abdomen.

You know you should shake your head. That would get Bradley to stop touching you and maybe you could get through the whole thing without him realizing that it’s you. But his voice so close to your ear does something to you and you find yourself nodding meekly.

“What about here?” He whispers, dragging your hand down over the curves and dips of his abs until your fingers are brushing the waistband of his shorts. “You like touching me here?”

You can only nod again.

“Yeah, you do, huh?” Bradley chuckles against your ear. His hand feels so big compared to yours and he just keeps dragging it down with such dominance, you can’t help but follow whatever he decides. His hand—and, as a result, yours—stops suddenly. “What about here?” Bradley smirks, his voice heavy.

When you realize what you’re holding, your eyes widen and, without thinking, you whip your head up to look at Bradley in shock. One of the colored lights flashes over you and Bradley’s hand freezes and then falls from where it was pressed against yours. His own eyes widen, his face still mere inches from yours as his mouth opens and closes a couple times.

“Princess?”

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Bradley taglist:

@parrish-will-perrish

@bobblebobsbae

@takemetooneverlanddd

@queerqueenlynn

@emma8895eb

@averyhotchner

@shanimallina87

@yuckosworld

@rosedurin

@thatdammchickennugget

@sailor-aviator

@kmc1989

@desert-fern

@sammyrenae68

@cottagecori

@sailor-aviator

@thelonelyumbrella

[ornithorynquerouge]

Lovely awesome breasts