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theharddeck · 2 years

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kinda might, sorta like, love you a little bit (hangman x reader)

Pairing: hangman x fem!reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: hangman's fwb convinces him to try something new

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, swearing, sex, choking kink, some asphyxiation, breathplay, slight slight slight degradation (mostly condescension, but if that's a no for you, maybe this isn't the one)

Length: 4.5k

title from yet another tanner adell song bb.

for @fuckyeahhangman , also welcome to my baby tag list @peakyrogers @winterrebel04@callsign-valley 💙

It wasn’t often that you saw an expression of absolute shock on Hangman’s face, his pretty jaw slack and his eyes wide, blinking owlishly at you, uncertain if he’d heard you correctly when you told him you wanted him to choke you.

You were out on the tarmac, running post-op inspections on your planes, and, like always, you and the golden boy were the last ones out. You hadn’t meant to say anything, but you’d come over to his F-18 after your inspection was done, to find Jake half-out of his flight suit and up to his elbows in grease, and the sight had ripped a confession out of you.

Jake processed your words slowly, setting down the wrench he’d had in his hands, bracing himself on his bent knees to stand up.

Fuck, his hands.

He had broad palms and long fingers that looked entirely too good wrapped around a yoke.

You knew what else they’d look good around.

But no one expected that of you.

You were the sweet one, the pilot who wore tinted chapstick and baked when she got stressed, so everyone thought they had you figured out. Just because you weren’t intense like Phoenix or Halo, everyone thought you were just the sweetest thing.

And you could be.

You could also be…more.

Jake’s expression cleared as he walked over to you, curiosity replacing the surprise in his eyes, as he got closer to you.

“Did I hear that right, sweetheart?” he asked, and your stomach flipped at the intensity in his expression.

You lifted your chin stubbornly as Jake got closer to you, holding his gaze and not saying anything else. Jake licked his lips, the motion bringing your eyes down to his mouth, as he smiled slightly, leaning towards you.

“You want me,” he whispered, his breath warm on the outside of your ear, “to choke you?”

All told, you were really proud of yourself for not melting into a puddle on the tarmac when he repeated your words back to you in his low drawl.

“Yes please,” you breathed, relieved beyond measure that no one else was around to see you go weak in the knees at six words from Hangman.

Jake hummed, a sound so deep in his chest it almost sounded like a purr. He pulled back to look at you, his fair eyes squinting in the afternoon sunlight. “And you thought you’d just tell me, in broad daylight, when I can’t do a damn thing about it?”

In your defense, you hadn’t meant to tell him.

Then you’d spent the afternoon listening to him bark instructions to the rest of the team in the air, and come by his F-18 to find him with his messy hair, wrestling with the landing gear with hand tools, and it had slipped out of you.

But he didn’t know that, so you smiled, lifting a shoulder casually. “Just wanted you to know,” you told him, unaffectedly.

Jake knew it was bullshit, his eyes narrowing even as his own smile deepened.

“I’ll see you after dinner,” he backed away from you, turning towards his aircraft and muttering over his shoulder, “otherwise I’ll do something that’ll get us both court martialed.”

A shiver went through you at his words, but he was right—this wasn’t the time or place for considering the ramifications of what he’d asked you.

Later, you pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down to stop yourself from biting your nails as you sat perched on the side of your bunk, looking between your watch, your phone, and the clock over the door. Dinner had come and gone and it felt like hours ago, and doubt was eating away at you.

What you had with Jake was good—very good.

No strings, no complications, no complaints. He treated you like something fiercely desirable, and it had been good…but you’d been on drills with him as team lead.

You knew how intense Hangman could be.

You knew how Jake sounded when he wanted something, you knew how he went after something in the sky with zero thought for anyone that couldn’t keep up. And you always heard that roughness when you started, but somewhere between working you two up and collapsing after the fact, he reined himself back to something gentle.

You were so tired of gentle.

But maybe he wasn’t being gentle, maybe he wasn’t holding back on you; it wasn’t what he wanted from your arrangement.

Maybe he wasn’t here yet because he wasn’t sure, maybe he was trying to figure out a way to gently—

The door handle turned, and you looked up sharply as Jake let himself into your room, shutting the door behind him. He leaned back against the door, and you heard the snick of the lock as he flicked it behind him. He’d showered since dinner, and his hair was still damp, the edges falling to just above where a worn sweatshirt hung loosely across his shoulders.

He had great shoulders.

It was a weird thing to notice in a man, but on Jake it wasn’t just that he spent a ton of time at the gym, it was how he carried himself. Proud and confident, cocky enough to be annoying, if he wasn’t good enough to back it up.

He tilted his head back against the door, looking at you, his eyes glittering in the low light.

You waited for him to say something, but he just looked at you, over the Eagles tank you’d cut the sleeves off of, your pajama shorts riding up on your thighs, crossed over each other as you sat primly on the bunk.

You licked your lips nervously, and Jake swore under his breath, rubbing his hand over his jaw, his eyes darting down to your tongue.

“If you don’t want to, you should tell me,” you blurted, and Jake’s eyes snapped back up to you.

“Don’t want to-–” he parrotted, breaking off on a short laugh. “Baby, there’s precious little I don’t want to do to you.”

His words settled over you, his rough tone exactly what had sparked all this.

“Okay,” you said, standing up slowly.

Jake’s eyes raked down your body but he stayed by the door. He sighed, exasperated, and you crossed the room as you waited for him to tell you what was going through his mind. He crossed his arms, frowning down at them.

“I don’t want to accidentally hurt you,” he admitted.

You blinked. You were moments away from making a joke about whether or not Jake knew his own strength, but he wasn’t meeting your eyes, which settled heavily over you.

Was this something deeper?

“Jake…” you started, and he looked back at you, lifting his chin defiantly. In his eyes, you saw a guardedness that you hated, that you wanted to chase away.

“Hey,” you said, pretty stubborn yourself, “I trust you.”

Jake’s jaw clenched, and you knew the only thing keeping his eyes locked on yours was the determination to not be the one who looked away first.

“I trust you,” you repeated.

He sighed, a long, drawn out sound. He didn’t look convinced, but you figured that was a longer conversation than you were equipped for. You reached for him, your fingers trailing down his forearm to one of his hands, fingers loose in front of him.

“I trust you,” you said again, and you lifted his huge hand to your neck.

Jake swallowed, eyes looking between yours, then at his hand against your throat. He drew in a long breath, adjusting to the prospect and letting you settle into it as well, and a part of you relaxed when you saw him do the same.

Fuck, just having him here was better than you’d expected.

His fingers were broad and warm, and they spanned across your neck, covering so much more of you than you’d anticipated. His strong fingers, hands that kept a fifteen-ton machine in the sky, just over your windpipe—it was overwhelming to think about, and he hadn’t even pressed down.

Jake’s thumb traced up the side of your throat, and you knew he could feel your pulse, as it rapidly quickened.

“Baby…” he started, concern and hunger warring in his eyes.

You tilted your head back, pushing your throat further into his hand.

“Try me, Hangman,” you whispered.

His jaw clenched, then released, and then his fingers curled slightly around your throat. He wasn’t squeezing, wasn’t anywhere close to cutting off your airflow, it was just a tightening of his thumb, and a pressure from his other fingers. Still, you couldn’t stop your eyes from fluttering closed, at the promise and potential from that simple touch.

Jake let out a slow breath, and when you opened your eyes to look at him, his chin jerked to the side. The concern was gone from his expression, replaced by soft awe as he looked down at you.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he muttered. “You really want this, huh?”

And there were a couple of ways you could answer him.

You could tell him yes, plead for him to keep going. You could lean further into his touch, pull him closer, ask for more.

Or…

You reached for Jake’s other hand, the one not around your throat. You meant for the movement to have finesse, but as soon as your joined hands brushed the bottom of your tank, Jake knew where you were going with this. His eyes darkened as you set his hand inside of your pajama shorts, and he followed through on your unspoken instruction. Jake hummed quietly, curious, his eyes following his hand as it traveled between the thin fabric and your body, reaching towards the apex of your thighs.

“Sweet thing,” Jake breathed. “No underwear tonight?”

You shook your head, steadying yourself on his chest as his hand moved over you, the backs of his knuckles brushing over your skin as he deliberately lingered. He turned his wrist and his fingers pulled over your center, causing you to shudder.

Jake inhaled sharply, his lips parting as he looked back at you.

“Baby, how long have you been this wet?”

He pressed a thick finger through your folds, and your eyes fell closed as he pulled it back towards him. You knew you were unsteady on your feet, but you knew that Jake needed to feel how badly you wanted this, wanted it with him.

“Baby,” Jake said again, and you looked up at him, so close to you, his pretty face stern and focused. You wet your lips, looking back at him, and waited.

His eyes narrowed, and then he pressed harder with the hand at your throat. Your knees actually buckled, and Jakes clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“I’m not even squeezing that hard, baby,” he said, a hint of condescension in his tone that had your skin heating. “Use your words, come on.”

Fuck, this was what you wanted.

For Jake to lean into the power he had over you, to control your pleasure, to command it out of you.

“Since I saw you on the tarmac,” you whispered, voice raspy, and Jake’s hand on your throat loosened, his thumb running up the side of your neck, soothing.

“See, that wasn’t so difficult,” he murmured, and your hips jerked forward when his hand worked over your core again. Jake added another finger to the pull, rubbing lightly over your clit before dipping back between your legs. You whimpered when he pressed his middle finger into your entrance, a slow intrusion that had you clutching at his forearm.

“Fuck, baby, you’re practically dripping,” Jake said quietly, his voice tight. “Pulling me in like a damn vice.”

His fingers felt so good, working over and in you, and his voice was always the perfect addition. You widened your legs, wanting more of his touch, and Jake chuckled, a low and pleased sound.

“On the bed, baby,” he said, his voice low. “I want to see you.”

His thumb brushed your neck again and then he let go of you carefully, pulling his hand out of your shorts. You would’ve protested, but he immediately set to peeling off his sweatshirt and pushing down his pants, and your mouth felt dry at the sight of him. You scrambled to comply, pulling your tank off and kicking the shorts down, before falling back to the bed.

You landed on the edge of it and a moment later Jake was on top of you, every inch of his hard body pressed into yours. He was warm and so close, perfect, and his hands grazed up your body to hold your wrists tightly, before he kissed you, hard.

His mouth moved over yours hungrily, and your lips parted for him, a moan slipping out of you at the first sweep of his tongue. You relaxed under him, moving your hands to check his hold on your wrists, but finding them secure. Jake’s grip tightened when he felt your wrists flex, and his hips ground into you, slow.

The drag of him, heavy and hot and so close, was perfect, and your moan was muffled against Jake’s mouth. He lifted slightly to turn your head with his nose, nuzzling into your neck to kiss you sloppily as he ground himself over you again.

“Jake,” you cried, unable to process how good it was, how quickly.

“That’s how I feel, baby,” Jake said, his voice sounding almost angry. “You look so fucking good, and then knowing what it is that got you this messy for me, fuck–”

He broke off, his hips driving into you again, and your head tipped back against the mattress. You could feel your arousal dripping between your thighs, and the thought that Jake might feel a fraction of as frantic as you did, was overwhelming.

Jake pushed away from you, leaning off the bed, to reach back for his discarded sweatpants. He fished a condom out of one of the pockets, rising up on his knees to roll it over his length, and you pushed down the irrational disappointment that rose up inside of you.

It was good to be safe, especially when you guys weren’t anything.

Still.

The additional layer, so early on, seemed like a harsh reminder of just how transient this thing between you was.

“Ah, sweetheart, don’t make that face.”

At Jake’s words, you quickly schooled your expression, looking back up to meet his eyes, and smiling automatically.

“Gone,” you told him flippantly, but Jake looked at you for a long moment.

He wasn’t careful, nothing so precious, but he held your eyes until the last moment when he leaned down to kiss you again. Your own eyes slid closed as he brushed his lips against yours, soft kisses, a gentle asking of permission.

You met him, you always did, and eventually his mouth grew firmer, more insistent, as he settled over you again. Your hands roamed up his sides, over his strong shoulders and over his back, where you could feel him moving over you. You pulled at him, wanting him closer, loving the way you could feel his muscles working as his body hovered over you. He shifted, propping himself on his elbows so he could reach over to grope your chest.

Grope was the right word, absolutely lacking in finesse, wanting to feel your soft skin under his fingers, as much and as soon as possible. Your back arched into his touch, pushing your breasts into his broad palms as Jake kissed you firmly. He pulled back, making his way down your face, your neck, your chest, and you lay back against the bed, gasping. His kisses were feather light, then nibbles, then he laved at you with his tongue before his teeth scraped against your nipples.

One of your hands drove from his back to his hair, tangling in the coarse strands and pulling when his mouth sent ribbons of pleasure to your core. Jake pulled back to look at you, and your stomach clenched at the sight of his swollen lips, flushed cheeks, his color high from chasing your pleasure.

You smiled at him, dopily, and his teeth flashed before he went back to your chest. While his mouth worked one breast, his hand worshiped the other, pulling and pressing and kneading and squeezing, lifting when his mouth switched between the two. His hips were gently rocking into yours, his cock lengthening against your stomach, and the awareness of him felt like a tease.

You reached down to wrap your hand around him, and Jake’s hips stuttered as you took him in your hand.

He felt heavy, and Jake’s next kisses felt more like bites, as he was distracted by your touch. You pulled your hand up his length, whimpering at how thick he felt, how your fingers couldn’t touch around him, how good he would stretch you. How full of him you’d feel, his hips rocking into yours–

One of Jake’s hands fell to your waist, gripping at the flesh there, and you realized you were grinding up into his thigh. He shifted, pressing down into you, and guiding the motion of your hips as you rolled against him.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he said, his breath warm against your chest. “Love feeling you working yourself up, waiting for this cock.”

His words had you fisting him tighter, and Jake’s hips jerked.

“Impatient,” he muttered, reaching down to push your hand away from him.

You resisted the urge to whine in protest, assuaged when you felt him reaching between the two of you to guide his cock to your entrance. He dragged his tip against your folds, and you fisted the hand in his hair, pulling sharply enough that Jake grunted, his forehead resting against your sternum.

“Stop teasing,” you gasped, and Jake laughed darkly against your skin.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, pushing his cock through your folds maddeningly slow, making no move to push deeper, “I know you can ask nicer than that.”

“Please, Jake,” you cried, not even embarrassed of how quickly you switched to begging. He was right there, you knew he’d fill you so good, and you’d been waiting for so long for this. “Need your cock, baby, please.”

“You need me,” Jake repeated smugly, accompanied by another slow drag.

“Yes, I do,” you whimpered. “God, Jake, please–”

“You always ask so prettily when you’re aching for me, baby,” Jake murmured, pulling back and shifting to line himself up to you. You turned your hips up, gasping with relief when you felt his head pressing into you. You moaned brokenly, the slow push filling you with a perfect ache, as Jake eased his cock into you.

Fuck, he filled you so well.

You felt yourself stretching, stretching, his hot cock searing you as he pushed against your walls. You could feel your thighs trembling as Jake’s hips pressed you into the bed, the intrusion steady and immutable. Jake kept pushing until he was fully seated, his thighs tight against yours, and you feel dizzy with how good it is.

“Now she’s quiet,” Jake said, his voice strained. “Stuffed with my cock like my baby wanted, and now she’s got nothing to say.”

“It’s so fucking good, Jake,” you whisper, and he groaned quietly. “You’re so good.”

“That’s right, baby,” Jake said, pulling back slightly. When he rocked his hips back, his cock dragged along your inner walls, raking a moan out of you. He pushed back in, still slow, still intoxicating, and you waited for your body to adjust to him.

“Shit, darlin’, you feel too good and you sound too wrecked; I can’t—” Jake broke off as he bottomed out inside of you. “Alright, angel, take a deep breath.”

You pulled in a breath without question, but it immediately punched out of you when you felt Jake’s hand come back to your neck. His hand settled lightly, similar to his first touch, just finding you, feeling you. He pulled out of you, and when your body bowed off the bed, chasing after him, Jake pressed his fingers down, and a whine tore out of you.

Jake jolted at the sound, his hips grinding forward at the sound.

“You’re so fucking hungry for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he gritted, and his thumb pressed harder. “God, I can feel this cunt just pulling me in, baby.”

You clenched down on him, his words driving you higher, as the stretch of him eased and you were able to take him deeper. It felt so good, his cock, his hands, and his words creating the perfect storm. It was just what you needed, him controlling every element of your pleasure like this, owning all of it.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Jake praised, his rhythm speeding up as your body relaxed further against him. “ I feel you clenching on me, every time I squeeze just a little bit tighter, fuck, why is that so hot, baby—”

Your eyes fluttered as he pumped into you, one of your hands running up Jake’s arm to encourage him. He still was holding you more in place than anything, just a suggestion of pressure, and even that bit was so damn good, but you wanted more.

Your fingers closed over his hand on your throat and you squeezed over his fingers.

“Shit, angel,” Jake groaned, his hips jerking harder as he tightened his hand experimentally. “Are you sure?”

As his grip tightened, you felt a buzz spread over your body, and your eyes rolled back at the intensity of his touch.

“Jake, baby, fuck,” you rasped, barely intelligible, but he heard you or knew what you meant, because his thrusts got even deeper.

“You like that, baby?” Jake asked, driving into you. “My hand on your throat, my cock so deep in your cunt, pushing the air out of you?”

Your eyes were screwed shut as sensations bowled over you, warm and hazy and so damn good, and your hand rubbed his forearm encouragingly. Between his rough thrusts and his firm grasp on your throat, you felt utterly possessed, taken, like the answer to the driving need pulsing through Jake could only be found in you. The buzzy sensation spread and you moaned, or you meant to, but sound wasn’t coming past Jake’s hand, and you felt your body lightening, even as the pull at your core got more leaden.

Fuck, you couldn’t be there already, could you?

You vaguely felt Jake pull back to look at you, but you couldn’t look at him, couldn’t think, only hazy pressure and need coiling through your body. You felt your arms going slack, not just from oxygen deprivation but from the reality that Jake was absolutely possessing you. Owning you, fucking you hard enough for the both of you, living up to the trust he hadn’t wanted you to give him.

You opened your eyes, squinting up at him through the haze of pleasure and pressure.

His face was flushed over you, shoulders and jaw tight with exertion, but his eyes were bright and careful, watching you. You let go of his forearm, reaching up to brush some of his hair away from his face, holding his cheek for a moment.

Jake’s head dropped slightly for a moment, his pace slowing as he recovered, looking up at you and shaking his head.

“I told you not to look at me like that, angel,” he said quietly, and you shook your head because it wasn’t the same.

But you saw when determination set in behind his eyes, and he reached under you to lift your hips. Your back bowed off the bed as the angle changed, Jake’s thrusts lodging impossibly deeper inside of you as his pace increased. The buzzing got more intense as he pressed down harder on your throat and Jake’s hips snapped into yours as he fucked into you. You could sob from the intensity of it, how hot and desperate it felt, how heavy and feral, and then he dipped his head to your neck.

“Baby, you feel too fucking good; I need you to come,” he groaned, and you nodded as best you could against his hand. You were close, you knew you were close, and hearing the desperation on his voice was pushing you further.

“Come on, angel,” Jake said, and he fucked into you faster, deeper, and he let go of your throat suddenly.

You gasped in a deep breath, the haze evaporating as oxygen rushed through your veins. Everything that had been muted felt acutely intense, biting and sharp, and you sobbed out a moan as your orgasm shattered through you. It felt almost painful, like noonday sun bursting through midnight. You collapsed back onto the bed, boneless, your chest heaving and your body shaking.

“Fuck, angel, that was the most beautiful thing, fucking unreal, you’re so good, baby,” Jake choked, his thrusts growing more desperate. “You did so good, baby, giving it to me like that, fuck, baby—”

Jake buried his face in your chest as he came, his long moan vibrating across your body, as he pumped into you. His hips continued to work as he came, driving into you and wringing his orgasm out as he worked through it. You wanted to run your hands through his hair, smooth over his strong shoulders and repeat his words back to him—the most beautiful thing, so good, how he did so good. But your limbs were absolutely molten, numb against the bed as you trembled quietly, still recovering.

Jake’s hips stilled, and the room seemed silent after the sounds of your combined panting and moans. The air felt warm, dreamlike, or maybe that was your body still adjusting. You became aware that Jake’s hands had started moving slowly across your skin. Without lifting himself off your chest, his fingers were smoothing, carefully exploring, spreading across you as he checked over you.

“Need something, Hangman?” you asked, your voice sounding rough. At the sound of it, Jake drew in a sharp breath and pushed himself off of you, propping himself up to look at you.

“Just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said quietly, and his eyes were intent as they followed his hands, still roaming over you.

“Honestly, Jake,” you said, clearing your throat, “I think ‘okay’, is a disservice to how I feel right now.”

Jake smiled, something quick, his eyes crinkling even when his lips pursed. He still looked uncertain, which did things to your heart that you didn’t want to contemplate, so you offered him a smile of your own.

“I feel like jelly; I don’t think I can come up to you,” you told him. “So will you just come here?”

He grinned, bright like starshine, and crawled up the bed. His lips were gentle when he kissed you, and you kissed him back languidly.

There was a lot of the night left, and a lot of uncertainty left, but you put into your kiss all the things he didn’t want to hear you say–the things you hoped he knew, the things he didn’t want to believe, and the way that you’d never for a moment doubted whether his hands were the right place to put your trust.

#hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x you #hangman x you #hangman fanfic #hangman smut #jake seresin x reader #misskielwrites #theharddecksgrandopening #do I do Coyote or Bob next?#bc I’m currently unhealthily obsessed with both of their hands rn #emphasis on unhealthily #truly I cannot function

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theharddeck · 2 years

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my forever, every day (rooster x reader)

Pairing: rooster x fem!reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: rooster and his girlfriend get sidetracked on a drive down PCH.

Warnings: 18+, minors please DNI, swearing, sex, oral sex (m receiving), squint-and-you-miss it rank kink, also praise kinks bc of who i am as a person...anything else, y'all lmk

Length: 4.9k

the title is a lyric from bronco, by the driver era . this one was written for @jadore-andor (happy birthday, my dear!!) and tagging my loves @peakyrogers @winterrebel04 @blue-aconite 💙

Bradley’s unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt flapped around his shoulders and your hair blew around your face as you leaned back into your seat after turning up the volume on the old radio. The heavy bass provided the perfect driving music as the Bronco rolled down the 101, and you hummed along as the winding freeway took you south.

It had been the perfect day off.

You’d both gotten a little more sun than you probably should’ve, and there was sand all over the floorboards, but it had been an absolutely perfect day off. Breakfast tacos, then lazing around on a beach in San Clemente, then an ice cream from the shop at the end of the pier and now driving back down to San Diego in your swimsuits while the sun sank over the ocean—what more could a girl ask for?

The bass faded and when you heard the first notes of the next song, you recognized it, too. You looked at Bradley suspiciously; normally, his music tastes skewed much more Indie Rock than Pop Punk, and the last four or five songs had been much more your speed than his.

“Bradley?” you asked.

“Yeah, gorgeous?” He looked over at you, raising an eyebrow.

“I love all of these songs,” you said, and it wasn’t really a question, as much as it was a request for an explanation.

“Well, yeah, that’s kind of the point,” Bradley said. His hand slipped down the wheel to flip on his turn signal, while keeping his other arm stretched over the back of the bench seat.

You waited for him to finish merging lanes before you asked, “What do you mean?”

Bradley glanced over at you, then leaned forward to grab his phone, connected through an adapter to a cable to the cassette tape that would let his phone play music through the vintage console. On his screen, you saw a Spotify playlist, simply titled: “For Gorgeous 🖤”.

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at it, then back up at your boyfriend, his eyes on the road. Behind his sunglasses, you could see them flicking to you, not like he was nervous, but like he was gauging your reaction.

“You made me a playlist?” you asked.

“I mean,” Bradley said, shifting in his seat, “it’s not, like, a big deal. You just were so excited for your day off, and this perfect beach day that you wanted, so I thought it’d be good to end it with music you like.”

You scrolled through the playlist, recognizing most of the songs as titles you’d either shared with accompanying stories, or songs that were a part of memories the two of you shared.

“Bradley Bradshaw,” you said fondly, setting his phone back in the cupholder, next to the empty ice cream cup from the pier. “The old school romantic.”

He scoffed, pushing up his sunglasses again, and the hand that was over the back of the bench seat flicked down to tug lightly on your hair. You wrinkled your nose, reaching up to grab his hand and pull it into your lap. You wove your fingers between his, your free hand tracing over the veins on the back of his hand.

You lifted his hand, after a moment, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it, before settling it back in your lap.

“Thank you,” you told him. “Today was wonderful.”

Bradley squeezed your hand, his fingers brushing the tops of your thighs against where you held him.

“Of course, honey,” he said.

The song ran out and you went back to playing with his hands. You loved his hands, you were a simple girl like that, and his were enormous. Broad fingers, calloused palms, and always warm, always available to you.

The next song picked up, and you frowned for a moment, before you recognized it.

A memory flashed through your head—your blue sundress pushed up to around your hips, Bradley’s jacket on the floor of the bathroom of The Hard Deck, the lock digging into your back as your boyfriend lost himself between your thighs. Him whispering into your cunt that he couldn’t wait until he could take you home, he’d do this better later, that you tasted better than he could’ve imagined, and holding you on the brink of orgasm until the rest of the bar sang along with the guitar riff, covering your keening moans when you finally came apart on his tongue.

In the present moment, you looked over at Bradley, unsure if that’s why this was included on the list, to see a spot of color on his cheeks, his hand tightly clutching the steering wheel. The hand you still held was deliberately loose, but every other inch of him was radiating tension, and you’d place money on the fact that the same memory was running through his mind.

You tried to keep a laugh out of your voice when you asked him, “You didn’t think this through, did you?”

“Shut up,” Bradley muttered without malice, shifting in his seat.

You bit your lip to hide a grin, and continued to watch his growing discomfort. His wide shoulders were tense, and he lifted one of his knees to hold the wheel steady while he wiped his palm on the front of his board shorts.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Bradley said, without looking at you to confirm what expression you wore. You pressed your lips together to trap a giggle, before looking deliberately out the window, giving him a break.

The sun sank into the horizon and the world slipped into the blue haze of twilight as the song played out. Another one came on, something soft and sweet, and you started tracing Bradley’s hand again. This song was one that had gotten you through his last deployment, one you’d looped while you cleaned the empty apartment, or rereading his last emails. Bradley’s thumb rubbed against your palm comfortingly, and you knew he knew.

The lights flipped on on the side of the road, soft circles of light cutting through the blue haze of the evening, as the guitar strings faded. Another song picked up, a beat set by a bass, and unfamiliar lyrics. You frowned, looking back at your boyfriend.

“What’s this one from?” you asked.

Bradley lifted a shoulder noncommittally, focusing on the road. “Dunno,” he said, “just made me think of you.”

You hummed in acceptance, listening to the lyrics. It wasn’t an indictment or a compliment, and you leaned across the seat to take Bradley’s glasses off his nose as the night got darker.

“You don’t need these anymore, do you?” you asked, sliding them into your hair to hold it out of your face.

Bradley squinted on principle, but didn’t fight it as you stole his aviators to use as a headband. You looked out the front of the car, at the tail lights ahead of you flickering on, and you felt him watching you.

“What?” you asked, looking back to meet him. Even in the dim light, you could make out the deep brown of his eyes, flitting between the road and watching you.

After a long moment, he cleared his throat.

“You really don’t remember this song?” he asked. His voice was low, curious, like he held a secret, not like he was disappointed, so you answered honestly and shook your head.

Bradley nodded, then the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “Guess I’d better remind you, then,” he said.

You tilted your head. “Wait, I thought it wasn’t—”

Bradley leaned a little to the side, looking under your lowered visor at a sign flashing by on the roadside.

“Hold on, gorgeous,” he said, reaching over briefly to tug on your safety belt, before throwing the Bronco into a lower gear, slamming on the brakes, and turning off the 101.

You squeaked as the truck pitched to the side, reeling into an overnight campsite off the beach. It was one of those that you got access to via a statewide membership, and Bradley kept the car registered in case he and the guys wanted to go on a trip; tonight it meant he could just wave authoritatively to the park ranger in the box, and drive you guys through.

“What the hell, Rooster,” you gasped at his impulsiveness, but he was silent as he drove to the back of the lot. The car lurched to a stop and he was out of it before it fully stopped moving, his long legs eating up the distance from the driver’s side to the passenger’s door. He yanked open your door, reached around you to undo your safety belt, and pulled you to the edge of your seat. With one massive hand, Bradley spread your legs, settling between them, and he wound his other hand through your hair, tilting your head back to kiss you hungrily.

You whimpered in surprise and Bradley took advantage of your parted lips to deepen the kiss. He kissed you like he did everything to you—with measured intensity, determined thoroughness, and sweet honesty. His lips were soft, knowing the perfect pressure and pull to tempt you deeper into his arms, and on his breath you tasted the cherry chocolate of the ice cream you’d split back in San Clemente.

Your arms wound around his neck, pulling you nearly out of the Bronco and against your boyfriend’s tall frame and he made a sound of approval deep in his throat. You felt it through his chest, and the hand in your hair pulled his aviators out of them before he ran his fingers slid down the exposed skin of your back, skimming over the ties that held your bikini top up.

When Bradley pulled back a breath, you were both panting, lips swollen, a little drunk chasing the taste of each other.

“You still don’t remember?” Bradley asked, his voice low, rough, the rasp of it sending a tremor through you.

You shook your head and Bradley’s eyes darkened, even as he smiled.

“Backseat, sweet girl,” Bradley said, stepping back out of your space, but you still felt his touch all over your skin. “Now.”

And, what, were you gonna say no to that?

You kicked off your sandals, leaving them in the front seat as you slipped under Bradley’s arm, and into the door he opened to the backseat of his car.

You heard Bradley chuckling at your haste as he followed behind you, pulling the door shut and then hauling you into his lap by your thighs.

You landed gracelessly, straddling him in the hunched space, and a moment later, his mouth found yours as he kissed you again. It was different like this, just as delicious but closer. Thighs over each other, stomachs against one another, limbs cramped in the tight space as you scrambled for purchase in each others’ bodies. Yours settled on Bradley’s shoulders, and you could feel his strong arms shifting, running over you, and then gone. You pulled back questioningly when Bradley’s hands lifted from your skin, to find him hastily shrugging out of his Hawaiian shirt.

“Presumptive,” you teased him, leaning in to kiss his neck while he tried to pull the shirt out from where it was trapped between him and the seat. You felt his chest constrict when your lips brushed against his pulse point and he yanked the shirt out from behind him sharply.

You expected him to toss it to the side, but instead, he fixed the garment around your shoulders, feeding your arms through it and buttoning one of the buttons across your chest. It was the opposite of what you expected from him, but when Bradley seemed satisfied, he surged towards you again, kissing you deeply. As his lips moved over yours, you felt his hands smooth over your skin, reaching under his shirt to untie your bikini.

Now that made more sense.

A couple quick tugs later, and your bikini fell to the floor of the Bronco; you broke away from Bradley’s mouth with a gasp when his warm palms came up to cup your breasts.

“Presumptive, she says,” he muttered against your lips, kissing you almost harshly. “I think you meant ‘possessive’, gorgeous.”

His thumbs brushed over your nipples, teasing them into hardened points against his calloused fingers and the loose brush of his shirt. You squirmed in his lap, his words reminding you just how exposed you were.

“Babe, do you think—” you started, and he interrupted you with another kiss, with another pinch under his shirt.

“You think I’m gonna let anyone else see my girl?” he asked, his grip on you tightening.

His possessiveness sent another bolt of desire through you, and you leaned into his touch, pressing yourself into him. Bradley seemed more than happy with the motion, his fingers working over you and his lips latching onto your neck again.

When he grazed your skin with his teeth, your hips bucked into him, and you both moaned at the contact. You were both still in your swimsuits, but you could feel the outline of Bradley’s cock against your thigh, through the thin material of his swimsuit. One of Bradley’s hands fell to your hip, helping to guide your motion as you moved over his thigh. His legs were so thick, strong under you and tensed like this, and the dragging movement rubbed your swimsuit against your core, and Bradley let out a long breath as you moved over him.

“That’s it, honey, feels good, doesn’t it?”

You pressed your lips together, nodding, your hands coming to rest on his stomach. You could feel how tightly he was clenched, wound, just letting you use his body to seek your own relief. This man, this enormous, powerful man, letting you rut against him just because it felt good.

“Ah, sweetheart, you’re so beautiful,” Bradley whispered, and when you looked up, he was watching you closely. His head was back against the headrest, and his eyes were hooded as his hands guided your movement, admiration shining in them. “You have me feeling like a damn teenager, not waiting till we get home because I need to feel my pussy before then.”

You whimpered at the crude way he described you as his, but you rocked your hips again and it was true. You were his, entirely and completely, and you were needy.

“Babe,” you whispered, your voice thin as you rocked against him, needing more.

“I’m here, gorgeous,” Bradley told you, and one of his hands lifted to slip inside of your swimsuit. You looked down, couldn’t help yourself, moaning at the sight of his thick wrist against your stomach, his big hand stretching the black material of your swimsuit.

Your body jolted when he dragged a finger through your folds, and Bradley moaned when he felt the wetness gathered there. You were scratching him, your nails scrambling for purchase against his skin, as his finger pulled your arousal from between your thighs to rub over your clit. He felt so good, heavenly, unhurried and overwhelming and Bradley continued to guide your hips over him with the hand on your thigh. The slow motion dragged you against his finger, and he shifted his wrist to keep a finger against your clit but reach between your legs to push two fingers into your cunt.

“Oh my god,” you moaned at the intrusion, the stretch another kind of overwhelming, and you felt Bradley still.

“You know better than that, sweet girl,” Bradley said, his voice low. “What do you say when I’m between your legs?”

“Bradley,” you whimpered, your hips rocking, trying to get his fingers deeper inside of you, but his hand remained frozen.

“Say my name like you mean it, honey,” he said slowly, moving his wrist again, repositioning.

“Bradley,” you all but sobbed, needing friction, needing something, needing more of him, “please, baby, please, I need to—Bradley–”

“That’s better, gorgeous,” he said approvingly, and then he shoved a third finger into you.

Your thighs jerked, hips automatically pushing away from the intrusion, but Bradley held you steady, not waiting for you to adjust before his fingers were moving inside of you.

You moaned as his long fingers reached deep into you, and you heard Bradley laughing quietly to himself as he leaned forward to kiss the curve of your jaw gently. The soft pressure of his lips was a wild juxtaposition to the merciless stretch of his fingers, and you writhed over him, desperate. His fingers curled inside of you, his thumb pressing steadily on your clit, and you ground against his hand, wildly chasing your pleasure.

“So pretty,” Bradley murmured. “Such a pretty pussy, taking my fingers so well. You know you have to, have to stretch her out so my cock will fit.”

You moaned, nodding dazedly, your hand falling to his swim trunks to find the cock in question.

Fuck, he was so hard.

Just from your pleasure, just from the press of your body against his; you moaned as you slid your hand over the length of him. Bradley let out a choked breath when you squeezed him over his trunks, and then he let go of your hip to brace himself, lifting you and his hips so you could slide the trunks down his thighs, and you couldn’t help the whine that escaped out of you.

He was so fucking strong, and when he sank back down, his cock bobbed in his lap, and you reached for him eagerly. Bradley moaned when your hand closed over him, warm skin against warm skin, and when you looked up at him, he licked his lips, his mouth slightly agape, watching you.

“You gonna jerk me off, honey?” he asked, his voice rough. “Work that cock up to fill you, while I stretch my pussy out to take me?”

You whimpered, bringing your hand up to your mouth to spit on it, before sliding your hand over his cock. A bit of precum was already leaking out of the tip, and Bradley swore softly when your thumb reached up to grab the pearl of moisture, mixing it with your spit as you worked over him.

You would never get tired of the sounds your boyfriend made.

He was never shy about talking to you, telling you what he wanted, how hot you made him, but it was his moans and groans that got you off. You loved when he sounded undone, knowing you were the one pulling those gorgeous sounds out of him, and you tightened your grip around his dick as you worked over him.

“Fuck, sweet girl,” Bradley groaned in response, his head dropping to your shoulder. He curled his fingers inside you, and you whined when he realized he was matching his movements with your hand over his cock.

“What do you think, gorgeous,” he asked gruffly. “You think you’re ready for me?”

You licked your lips, looking down at the length of him in your hand, swelling larger with every pull of your hand over him. You were never really ready, not before an orgasm, but you wanted to be stretched over him, more than you wanted to be ready.

“Please, Bradley,” you nodded, rising up on your thighs for Bradley to undo the strings of your bikini bottoms as well. It joined the top on the floorboards of the Bronco, and Bradley hummed to himself as he took you in, wearing only his shirt, rutting against his thigh and working his cock in your hand.

“Love you so much, sweet girl,” he said quietly, and your heart clenched at his soft admission, in the middle of a frenzied pitch.

“Love you too, Bradley,” you whispered. You leaned in to kiss him quickly, settling back down on his thighs, and pulling your hand over his cock again. “So are you gonna fuck me about it?”

Bradley’s eyes fluttered as your grip tightened and your words settled over him. When he opened them, you could barely see the brown of his irises, his eyes were blown wide.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he groaned, and then he batted your hand away, lifted your hips and impaled you on his cock.

You didn’t mean to scream.

But his thrust pushed all the air out of you, and all you could think was him, Bradley, Bradley, and you realized you were moaning it aloud, like a prayer.

“You’re so fucking tight, gorgeous,” Bradley gritted, his hands smoothing over your shoulders, his voice tight as he held himself still, waiting for you to adjust.

Not like you could do a damn thing.

Your body felt like it was on fire, full and stretched and absolutely alight with desire, every inch of you pulsing for him. You needed him to move, you needed to adjust, you needed him, that was what you knew.

“You’re doing so good for me, sweet girl,” Bradley whispered, one of his hands coming up to pet your hair. You lowered your head to his shoulder, feeling molten, past numb, like being draped over him was the only way you wanted to stay forever.

Bradley was still running his hands over you, and you could feel his breath coming in measured pulls, as he tightly held onto control.

After a couple more moments, you felt a little more grounded, more adjusted. You became aware of the way your shaky breathing was echoing around the car, the windows fogged like Titanic, your sweet boyfriend holding himself in check until you told him you were okay.

“Bradley?” you asked weakly, reaching up slowly to cup the back of his head, even though you still didn’t feel like you could lift your head.

“Yeah, gorgeous,” he breathed, and your heart swelled at the care in his voice.

“I want to feel you, babe,” you told him, and you felt a shiver work through his body.

“Thank fuck,” he groaned.

He rocked up into you, a broken cry easing out of you as he pushed even deeper, your thighs widening to accommodate him.

“That’s it, sweet thing,” Bradley moaned, and he pulled out before thrusting into you.

The drag of him was absolutely heaven, thick and rough and reaching that deep part of you that only he could. You moaned as he set a rhythm against you, his strong thighs flexing to drive up into you, splitting you, completing you.

“Baby, it’s so good, you’re so good, you feel—fuck, baby,” you babbled, and Bradley groaned.

He guided your hand farther up his scalp, twining your fingers into his hair and you pulled slightly. His hips thrust harder and you whined at the ferocity of it, the perfection of it.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Bradley groaned, “taking me like you were fucking made for it, moaning on my cock like it’s all you wanted.”

In that moment, you weren’t sure if it wasn’t.

The whole world was this Bronco, wrapped in your boyfriend’s arms, feeling him pushing into you, the air thick with both of your sweat and sex and the moans you couldn’t stop from pouring out of you.

Bradley drove up into you, and his hands fell back to your hips, guiding your movement against him. At the top of your stroke, your pelvis pressed against his and your clit rubbed against him, and it sent white heat curling through your body. You were gasping and writhing and each sound you made seemed only to spur your boyfriend on, as he drove you higher. His thrusts were slowing, hitting deeper, and you felt your legs start trembling at the intensity.

“Are you close, baby?” he asked, almost growled, his voice close to your ear. “Tell me you’re close, gorgeous, you feel so tight, and I can’t—”

“Yes, shit, Bradley, I’m so close,” you moaned, your body pulsing, begging, trembling.

“Give it to me, baby,” Bradley ordered, his voice sharp in your ear, his thrusts unrelenting, as your legs drew up, involuntarily. “Come on this cock, baby, let me feel it, let me feel you–”

You came with a wail, your climax crashing over you like a wave that sent you tumbling. You might’ve choked, you might’ve cried, all you knew was the white hot heat pulsing through your body, leaving you limbless and sated in its wake.

You came back slowly, the darkness of night seeping in through the fogged windows of the Bronco, and you became aware of your boyfriend slowly moving your hips still, working you over him, coaxing you through it.

“Bradley,” you whimpered into his neck, and you felt his chest expand.

“You did so good for me, sweet girl,” he said, his voice soft, just on this side of undone, “so fucking good.”

“Baby…” you chided him gently as understanding dawned that he still hadn’t come yet. You moved your hips slightly, and Bradley’s hands held you in place sternly.

“Gorgeous, I’m so fucking close, but you were so sensitive, just give me a—”

Summoning strength you didn’t have and ignoring Bradley’s futile protests, you slid off of him, swallowing a moan when you felt wetness drip down your thighs as you moved. There wasn’t a ton of room in the backseat, but there was enough that you could lower yourself to the floorboards between your boyfriend’s knees, look up at him through sated eyes, and open your mouth, holding out your tongue.

“Fucking hell,” Bradley breathed, and you would’ve smirked, but what you wanted more than anything was to make him come.

So you leaned forward, tongue teasing just the tip of him, before you opened your jaw and took Bradley’s cock in your mouth.

He hit the ceiling of the Bronco, a stream of curses ripping from his lips as your mouth closed around him, humming slightly. Fuck, the weight of him. He was so broad, fat and thick in your mouth, and you tasted yourself on him, tasted how thoroughly he had fucked you, and you couldn’t help but moan around him.

“Baby, baby,” Bradley groaned, his thighs flexing as he held himself back. “Baby, I’m too close, I can’t be gentle—”

You pulled back with a pop, a stream of saliva falling from his cock to your mouth, and Bradley let out a sound that was almost a whine. That pretty sound had you reaching between your legs, brushing your fingers over your still sensitive core, just at how good he sounded.

“Fuck my mouth, Lieutenant,” you told him, and his eyes fluttered, before you added, “Please.”

His head fell back against the headrest and he groaned, a sound that went straight to your core. You took him back in your mouth, your tongue tracing the underside of his cock, and you felt a large hand settle at the back of your neck.

You whimpered when Bradley gathered the hair there, and started to guide you. Your eyes fell closed and you loosened your jaw, surrendering to the act of it. Yes, you were on your knees and it was your mouth around his dick, but the sounds pouring out of Bradley, the stern hand he kept on the back of your head, it felt like he was worshiping you.

He was so heavy on your tongue, and it was sloppy, but when Bradley started pushing your head faster, you worked your hand faster between your legs. He sounded so good, he tasted so good, and when you moaned you couldn’t have said if it was from the way he was pulling your hair, the building pressure between your thighs, or how good he tasted.

“You’re fucking perfect, gorgeous,” Bradley groaned. “Are you going to come again when I come? Is my pussy going to come for me, on my girl’s fingers while I fuck her mouth?”

You gagged, tears streaming down your face, and when Bradley moaned your name on a final curse and came down your throat, you climaxed on your fingers like he’d said.

Bradley’s thighs were shaking as he pumped down your throat, his hand in your hair smoothing over your hair and then curling under the back of your neck to haul you back up to his lap. Your limbs were shaking from your second orgasm, lungs heaving from how he’d choked you on his cock. Bradley dragged his lips over you, whispering praises and pressing kisses to everywhere he could reach, just shy of delirious.

You could relate.

The Bronco was steamy and humid, and it felt like your own little world. A sphere where the only thing that mattered was your sweet boyfriend, the honest perfection you found in each other, and the strength to care for each other even when you couldn’t explain it.

Eventually, Bradley carded his fingers through your hair, and pulled his swimsuit back up. He left yours on the floor, and buttoned his shirt over you carefully, continuing to finger comb your hair.

When you drove out of the campsite, the ranger avoided both of your eyes.

As you turned back onto the 101, Bradley kept your hand in his, driving with his knees when he needed to change gears. The music picked up again as you drove on, and, remembering, you turned to him.

“So, what was that song?” you asked, still uncertain.

In the moonlight, your boyfriend smiled, his eyes flashing as he lifted your hand to his mouth to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“Don’t you remember, gorgeous?” he asked, voice still low. “That song was playing the time we pulled off the 101 so I could fuck you in the back of my Bronco.”

#rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster smut #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #misskielwrites #theharddecksgrandopening

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