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justreadingthings · 8 days

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Ohhhh I am obsessed! I can’t get enough of Rooster, and I’m so loving the way you paint him! Well I suppose it would technically be writing but whatever. This is awesome and I’m excited to keep reading ☺️

Is It Working For You? Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Have you read Part 1 yet? Check out my Masterlist.

Summary: Rooster shoots his shot with you. Will you return fire?

Warnings: some swears, adult banter, allusions to masturbation, getting more into 18+

Length: 2100

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

During his Monday morning run, Bradley's thoughts were consumed by you. Your fairly innocent conversation with him at the Hard Deck had become fodder for the dirtiest parts of his brain. He could picture nothing except droplets of your spilled beer sliding down your smooth calves.

He ran along the beach trail as the sun rose behind him and shone off the breakers in the ocean. Sweat trickled down his back as he turned toward his temporary housing in the barracks, and he started to think about how sweaty he could make you.

Very sweaty, he decided. And he would make it his personal mission to do so.

But Phoenix hadn't been wrong, and that was definitely bothering him a bit. Since when did he focus on one girl for more than a casual night? A weekend, tops?

And he barely knew you, but he definitely wanted to know more. He wanted to know where you were from, because you sounded east coast like him. He wanted to know how long you'd been living in San Diego. He wanted to know if you liked other beers too. He wanted to know your favorite foods, and he wanted to feed them to you. He wanted to know what you looked like pinned up against the wall while he fingered you.

He couldn't help but grin about the fact that he managed to make it further with you than Hangman had. That was definitely the ego boost he needed to see if he could take this all the way to his bed, maybe even further. And honestly, the fact that you had rejected Hangman without hesitation made you somehow even hotter.

Unsurprisingly, he had to take matters into his own hands again while he quickly showered in his room in the barracks before reporting to base for work. That marked the third time since the wee hours of Sunday morning that he got off to the idea of licking beer off your legs.

Once he was finally ready for work, Bradley rushed out to his Bronco and tore out of the lot, anxious to see you in your tight bun and khakis again. A grin spread across his face. Whoever designed that naval uniform certainly did not intend for it to be so sexy.

As soon as Bradley walked into the preflight room, you were already there, sipping your coffee and typing away on your computer. He walked right past Phoenix and Bob over to your spot at the folding table with the other engineers, as if pulled like a magnet.

You glanced up when you saw Bradley's boots heading your way. "Good morning, lieutenants," he said in that raspy voice as he addressed you and your coworkers. You couldn't believe he had the audacity to rasp like that. He sounded like he had just rolled out of bed. You squirmed around in your seat a little bit, suddenly very warm and uncomfortable.

"Morning, Lieutenant Bradshaw," you managed as he smiled right at you. You were vaguely aware that everyone else returned his greeting as well, but he was only looking at you. You felt almost thankful as he turned and took a seat with the other aviators.

You could hear Phoenix sarcastically tell Bradley, "Oh, good morning, Rooster! It's so nice to be ignored at 8:00 am! Yes, I'm doing just fine today." She rolled her eyes hard as she took the seat next to him.

"Sorry, but I had more pressing people to greet. Like the one I can't stop thinking about," Bradley replied barely above a whisper, but you could still hear him clearly.

You almost fell out of your seat. Was he talking about you? As soon as you readjusted your chair once again, Bradley turned and smiled at you. Maybe he was talking about you! Maybe all that banter at the Hard Deck got to him as well. It certainly went right to your head, as you'd been continuously thinking about how his mustache would feel if he ever kissed you. All. Over. Your. Body.

"What is wrong with you?" Lieutenant Maria Wilson hissed next to your ear as Maverick entered the room and started going over the flight plans. "Why can't you sit still?"

"Um," was all you managed to say, but you couldn't take your eyes off Bradley. He was running a hand through his hair and stretching in his seat as he focused his attention on the daily instructions. You really hoped nobody had any questions for you, because you couldn't even remember your own middle name at the moment.

Maria followed your gaze to Rooster and whispered, "You told me you didn't go home with him!"

"I didn't!" you insisted through clenched teeth, trying not to draw attention to your table. "You would know if I had, you're my roommate!"

"Well, maybe you should go home with him. First you didn't want the blond one, now tell me what's wrong with this one?" she asked.

You watched as the aviators stood to head to their aircrafts. Bradley unfolded his large frame gracefully before he bent to pick up his helmet bag. His eyes met yours briefly before he slipped his sunglasses on.

"Absolutely nothing."

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

Bradley hadn't seen you again the rest of the day on Monday, and Tuesday wasn't looking too promising either. After spending countless hours in the air over both days, he was pretty happy when Maverick called everyone back to the tarmac mid-day on Tuesday. He was sore from sitting in the cockpit and also from doing literally hundreds of push-ups. He was still so mad at Payback and Fanboy for fucking around, he veered off away from them as soon as he could.

After grabbing a tray of food from the cafeteria, he was flagged down by Phoenix while looking for a seat. "I saved you a spot!" she called, and he was delighted to see the empty seat was at the end of the table, directly across from you.

"Thank you," he mouthed to her as he rounded the table and slid into the empty chair.

You looked up from your burrito bowl as your new table mate took his seat. The way Phoenix was looking at you felt intentional, and you could feel your cheeks warming up as Bradley took a long drink of his water. He was absolutely massive, tall and broad, but his movements were always smooth and deliberate.

"Hey, haven't seen you all day," Bradley told you as he set his drink down and licked his lips.

Your brain certainly took its time coming up with a response to that. "Yeah... we've been working in the tower since you were all flying today. Heard about some pushups from Phoenix, and it sounds like you took the brunt of it?"

Bradley rolled his shoulders back and grinned. "Sure did, and my body is not amused. Getting too old for this shit."

You tried to push thoughts of the two of you in a steamy shower, your hands all over his neck and shoulder, out of your mind. It was not working.

"How old are you?" you asked before you could think better of it. You probably shouldn't be engaging in too much personal chit chat with these aviators, Rooster in particular. After this mission was completed, you would move onto helping with another project, wherever your commanding officer saw fit. Wasn't that one of the reasons you shut Hangman down so fast? Because it wasn't part of your professional agenda to form relationships here? I mean, other than the fact that he's cocky and clearly not your type?

"Thirty-five," Bradley responded between bites of his lunch. He took his time chewing while eyeing you up. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine. Which I guess is why we never overlapped at the Naval Academy. I think I would have remembered you," you said, and promptly wanted to shove your foot into your mouth.

Bradley smirked. "You'd have remembered me, huh?"

"Yes," you responded quickly. "Because Rooster is a ridiculous call sign."

He barked out a laugh and leaned closer to you across the table. "Well I actually did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Though I don't doubt you would have remembered me if we'd gone to school together. I would have been the cute one asking you out."

The nerve he had to say that at the cafeteria table, and in that raspy voice! You felt yourself starting to fidget in your seat again. Nobody else around you two seemed to be paying much attention to your conversation, so you simply said, "What makes you think I would have said yes?"

"I'm almost certain you would have said no. You were undoubtedly out of my league then, and you probably still are." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest with a small smile. The top of his flight suit was pulled down with the sleeves tied around his waist; his arms were putting on quite a performance in his black tee shirt.

"You're older than I thought you were," you informed him, trying to steer the conversation back to earlier. "I thought you were closer to my age."

"But I can still kick ass at push-ups... among other things."

"Okay, Gramps," you muttered and peered up at him through your eyelashes as you casually doused what was left of your food in hot sauce.

Bradley tried to hide his smile as he took the last bites of his lunch and then cleared his throat. "If you like spicy food, I know a great place up near Del Mar. Right on the beach. Great views."

You just stared at his lips for a few seconds. He was on the verge of a smile, but he was waiting, just waiting to hear what you had to say. And you felt sick because of it.

"Please, Bradley, don't ask me out," you whispered. "I don't want to have to tell you no."

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

Well, shit. Bradley had decided to shoot his shot with you. And you didn't seem to want any part of it. He wished he could disappear from the cafeteria.

Plus, you looked so sad, like you might be on the verge of tears. He honestly thought you felt a connection with him. He certainly felt one with you. There was so much chemistry there, he could practically touch it. Fuck, he couldn't get you out of his head, and he didn't want to either.

You had pulled your lips into a tight line as you stared at his mouth, seemingly begging him to say something.

"No, it's okay, Y/N. I understand. No hard feelings," he told you with a forced smile as he stood with his tray. "See you around."

"Bradley," you called softly after him, but he didn't turn back. He just made his way to the garbage can, feeling like he would prefer to drop his heart in there along with his trash.

The truly funny part was, he had told you that you were out of his league. He laughed sardonically, because you must have agreed with him. He was no better than Hangman after all.

Phoenix ran up to keep pace with Bradley as he headed back out to the tarmac. "Rooster, what happened back there?"

"Nothing," he replied, running a hand over his face before putting on his sunglasses. "Just got shot the hell down is all."

"No! But she likes you!" Phoenix's voice was full of disbelief.

Bradley shrugged and pulled the sleeves of his flight suit back on. "Well, at least I gave it a shot. But you know what, Nat? I can't remember the last time I wanted to take a girl out this badly. And... you were right. Usually a quick hookup is good enough for me, and even that feels like a chore half the time when they want to sleep over. But she makes me want that shit. I know I would want her to stay. And once would not be enough."

Phoenix just shook her head. "I just don't understand! She looks at you like she can't decide if she wants to kiss your mustache off or throw you down on the ground and climb on top."

After taking a deep breath, Bradley took off at a faster pace. "Fuck it, Nat. It's fine. I'm fine. I need to pull my head out of my ass. I'll see you up there."

All she could do was watch her friend walk to his F/A-18, wishing there was something she could do. She knew she wasn't wrong about you wanting him back.

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I wanted to get the second part up quickly, because everyone has been SO kind with reblogging and leaving comments. Thank you so much! Also, I'm hoping all the little details I'm adding about Y/N aren't detracting from anything for you. (Sorry, you like spicy food now).

Enjoy Part 3!

@yaboid19

@swthxrry

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

#bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick

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justreadingthings · 8 days

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Speaking of goners, I am absolutely one for this man! This is fantastic 👩‍🍳🤌😘

Is It Working For You? | Rooster x Reader

My first Top Gun fic, please be kind!

Check out my Masterlist

Summary: Rooster has had his eye on you all week at work, and now you're at the Hard Deck looking too good to be true.

Warnings: some swears, adult banter

Length: 2700

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Part 2 is now available as well! Thank you @mak-32 for all of the banners for this fic!

"Rooster! You're up, man!"

Bradley quickly shifted his gaze away from where you sat laughing at the bar with two of your friends. He had seen the three of you around base ever since he had been called back to Top Gun about a week ago. You and the other two lieutenants who had been working as the lead engineers on the upcoming attack on the uranium enrichment plant seemed to be letting loose on this Saturday night.

He was already used to seeing you take charge of the software interfaces and answer Mav's questions during preflight briefings, but seeing you drinking at the Hard Deck felt strangely intimate.

"Come on, Rooster! You're holding everyone up," Payback whined as he handed over the darts.

Bradley wasn't even sure why anyone agreed to play darts here at all, as it was just a revolving door of everyone taking turns losing to Hangman.

"Calm down, Payback. Hangman will have us all smoked within the hour anyway," Bradley retorted back.

Jake aimed his annoyingly cocky grin toward the other aviators as he toasted his beer in the air toward Bradley. "Glad you're finally able to acknowledge who is the superior man here, Rooster."

Bradley rolled his eyes and aggressively threw a dart. Twenty-five points, not bad. "I'm only acknowledging that the reason you are terrible at everything else in life is because you've spent so much time perfecting your damn dart game. But if you want to take that as a compliment, be my guest." The Dagger squad erupted into laughter around the dartboard.

Phoenix and Bob tried to reel in their giggles as Hangman shot them a scathing look, but Natasha, being the good friend she was, simply said, "He has a point, Bagman."

Bradley winked at Phoenix, and then threw his second and third darts in quick succession. "I need another beer," he said as Hangman got ready to take his turn.

Bradley hoped nobody would notice that he had walked all the way around the bar to flag down Penny for a beer. He wanted to be closer to where you were perched on your barstool, legs crossed and conversing with your coworkers. Your skirt was kind of short, definitely a departure from your khaki Naval officer uniform. Your hair was down and kind of messy, definitely a departure from the tight buns that you sported during work hours. God, you looked sexy, and the best part was, it didn't seem like you were even trying to.

"Get you another one?" Penny called to Bradley, pulling him away from his thoughts.

"Please," Bradley replied with a grin to his favorite bartender.

As Bradley set his empty bottle down on the bar, you turned slightly to your left, brushing your hair over your shoulder. He froze as your eyes met his from a few feet away. A look of recognition passed over your face, and a smile curled along your lips as you placed him as one of the aviators you'd been working with in Top Gun's Dagger squadron. You lifted your fingers into a casual wave in his direction.

Hi, you mouthed with another soft smile before turning away from him once again. Bradley felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

"It was just a wave and a smile, get it together," he muttered as Penny returned with two identical beer bottles. She set one down in front of Bradley and one down in front of you.

Bradley's mind went a little blank as he watched you pick up your bottle and take a sip. You liked the same beer that he did, how hot was that? He watched your throat as you swallowed. He thought about pressing his lips against your neck.

"Oh no, not you too?" Phoenix asked, effectively tearing Bradley's mind away from thoughts of running his cold bottle of beer along your neck and licking the condensation off your skin.

"Huh?" he grunted, finally turning toward Phoenix.

Phoenix just laughed at him and shook her head. "You're into her, too? I mean, I get it, she's very pretty and extremely smart. But if this is just going to become another thing for you and Bagman to get competitive over, I'm going to scream."

"What are you talking about?" Bradley asked, but he could feel his throat getting a little tight around the words. The idea of Hangman being interested in you made his skin crawl, and he felt his fingers tighten around his beer bottle.

"Bagman asked Lieutenant Y/L/N out yesterday. I overheard him do it," she replied casually.

Bradley's lips pressed into a thin line underneath his mustache. "You're not serious," he growled after a couple seconds. He couldn't help glancing over his shoulder to where you sat, head tilted back in laughter.

Phoenix suddenly gave you a sympathetic look. "Oh my goodness! You actually really like Lieutenant Y/L/N. That's interesting. Been awhile since I've seen you this interested in anyone. Usually it's just a local for the night."

Bradley glared at her and stole another glance at your gorgeous face. "Damn, I can't believe I fucked this up before I even did anything. But I guess that seems on brand for me," he said with a self deprecating shake of his head. Fucking Jake making a fucking move on you after only a couple days.

"She told him no," Phoenix informed him with a smirk. Bradley's heart pounded a little faster as his friend continued. "He asked her if she wanted to go out with him sometime, and then she looked him up and down and flat out told him she was not interested. It was the funniest thing I've seen in awhile!"

"Why didn't you lead off with that information!" Bradley sputtered. "I've been sweating over her all week long."

"Because I didn't even know you liked her until right now! You could have told me! I ate lunch in the cafeteria with her and some other officers the other day. She's very nice and funny and single," Phoenix said with a bright smile.

"Yeah, I know you sat with her! I was three tables away practically drooling on my lunch, trying to think of something to say to her," Bradley muttered before finishing his beer. "I don't even know that she's my type, being an officer and all. Plus, smart girls are intimidating."

"Well, go talk to her now. Buy her a drink. Tell her you love her," Phoenix said as she pushed Bradley through the crowd of people currently trying to get drinks at the bar.

"I can't say that! Quick, help me think of something normal to say!" But it was too late. With one final shove, Phoenix managed to push Bradley's large frame directly into the back of your barstool.

"Hey, watch it!" you yelled as some of your beer sloshed onto your bare knees. Since the Hard Deck was a Naval officer hangout, it didn't usually get too rowdy, but some of the guys here could be a bit aggressive at times.

As you spun your stool around to glare at whoever slammed into your seat, you came eye to chest with that cute aviator from Top Gun. The one you had noticed on the very first day of the mission. As your eyes travelled up, you saw that his sunglasses were hanging from his Hawaiian shirt, and his cheeks were flushed in embarrassment as he looked at the beer dripping down your legs.

"I-I... I'm so sorry!" he finally managed to say. "My friend is a clumsy menace who apparently can't walk correctly," he told you with a wince as he gestured toward Phoenix who was running away cackling.

It was funny, because you had enjoyed talking to her at lunchtime on Wednesday, and she hadn't seemed all that clumsy at the time.

You decided to let him off the hook and smiled up at him as you grabbed a napkin and wiped your legs dry. "It's not a problem. I just wanted to make sure I sounded really tough in case some guys were starting a fight behind me or something. You're Rooster, right?"

Bradley froze on the spot, flustered that you actually remembered his call sign. Not many non-aviators cared about using them. "Yeah. I'm Rooster. Or Bradley. Or Lieutenant Bradshaw," he blurted out. Why did he suddenly seem to have no control over this conversation?

You cocked your head up at him and pursed your pretty lips. "You want me to call you Lieutenant Bradshaw right now? While we're at the Hard Deck?"

"No! Um, you don't have to, obviously." God, he sounded like a moron. "Let me get you another drink," he managed to say while raising two fingers toward Penny. She nodded, acknowledging the drink order, as she looked between you both with a slight smile.

Bradley took a deep breath and said, "Please, just call me Bradley. Or Rooster. I'm not picky.

"And you can just call me Y/N. I don't have a fun call sign," you said with a laugh.

Bradley already knew your first name, but he felt a little giddy that you had given him permission to actually use it. "Okay, Y/N."

You smiled brightly up at Bradley just as one of your coworkers placed her hand on your shoulder. You turned toward the now vacant barstools where your good friends from work had just been sitting. "Hey, we're going to go. It's getting late," Lieutenant Wilson said with a wink as she turned to leave.

"See you both later," Lieutenant Harvey added before he turned toward the exit as well.

You just nodded toward them before turning your attention back to Bradley. It was nearly midnight, but you really had no desire to leave now that he was sliding into the newly vacant seat next to you. As your beers arrived, you took a minute to check him out. He was tall. Like really tall. And his muscular arms and tan skin were hard to look away from. His curly hair was practically begging you to run your fingers through it. And there were some scars on his face and neck that your hands were aching to touch. Maybe you'd had too much to drink? You should have left with your friends.

"It's cool if I sit for awhile?" Bradley asked you as he slid one of the identical beers in front of you with a hopeful smile.

"Of course," you replied, certain he had noticed you checking him out. "And thanks for the beer. You didn't have to."

Bradley just shrugged as he took a drink. "It was my fault you ended up wearing your last one. And I'm just happy you have good taste in drinks."

You grinned into your beer bottle as you took a sip. Then you noticed Phoenix pop up directly across the room from where you and Bradley sat. She was giving you both an appraising look as Bradley narrowed his eyes at her before turning his stool toward you and completely ignoring her. Phoenix eventually made her way back toward the pool table where all of the aviators seemed to congregate. Well, everyone except for Rooster who now had his large body mere inches from yours.

The bar was still packed, and it felt like everyone was pushing the two of you closer and closer together. The music from the jukebox blended with all of the conversation, muffling everything into a pleasant hum as you looked up at Bradley. His brown eyes snapped up from gazing at your body to meet yours.

"You look really pretty," he told you. "I mean, you look nice all the time, even in head to toe khaki." Bradley's helpful brain quickly reminded him just how good your ass looked in your uniform pants.

You laughed, "Wow, what a compliment. The Navy really does not discriminate when it comes to making everyone wear the same horrible khaki color." You carefully reach out your left hand and run it along the fabric of Bradley's colorful Hawaiian button down. "What's with the shirt?"

Bradley tracked your hand with his eyes as it brushed against his shirt fabric. Surely he was dreaming. There was no way this was actually happening to him. He was alone with you in a tiny mythical bubble inside the Hard Deck, and you were touching his clothing. You. The officer who he'd been gleefully staring at all week any time you were in the meeting rooms with him. And now he knew how sweet you smelled and what your laugh sounded like.

"What, you don't like my shirt?" he asked you teasingly, feeling a little bolder as your wandering fingers grazed his arm.

"I didn't say that. It's just not a look many guys can pull off," you replied with a quirk of your lips.

"Oof, that's harsh. So is it working for me or not?" Bradley asked you as he leaned in a little closer.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as you tugged lightly on his shirt collar. "Yeah, it's working for you." Had you actually said that out loud, to Bradley? You really needed to pay your tab and leave before you said anything else.

Bradley's eyes went a little wider before narrowing and locking with yours again. He licked his lips before asking, "But more importantly, is it working for you?"

Your jaw dropped open as you gaped at him for a few seconds before you snapped your mouth shut. You had to force your gaze away from him as you managed to say, "It's not not working for me."

"I'll take that as a good sign," he whispered with a chuckle.

You could tell your face was bright red. Bradley Bradshaw was clearly a shameless flirt. He probably did this with every single girl. But you were still eating it up. You couldn't even help yourself. You literally had butterflies, something Hangman hadn't given you, even when he'd touched the small of your back and asked you out.

Meeting Bradley's eyes again, you asked, "And what's with your mustache, Rooster?"

He grinned at you as he set his empty beer bottle on the bar. "Is that working for you too, Y/N?"

"Surprisingly, yes. It is working for me," you managed to say as Bradley's leg rubbed against your bare knees.

"I like the sound of that," he said, his voice getting raspier. Then he added with a slightly bashful smile, "Everything, every single thing, about you is working for me, too."

You were certain your body was going to melt right off the stool and onto the floor. The look Bradley was giving you was enough to make you combust. Sure, you'd thought he was very cute when you met him last week, but now he was making you feel scalding hot. This banter felt like foreplay, and you had not planned on a night like this.

A loud roar of cheers came from near the pool tables, slightly breaking the tension around the two of you. "Well Rooster, on that note, I'm going to head out before I say anything I might regret." You desperately wanted to grab him by his shirt collar and yank him outside. And the only problem with that was the fact that you actually kind of liked him, and you still had to work with him for the next few weeks.

As you left some cash on the bar to cover your tab, Bradley stood and reached out for your hand. You let him walk you to the door, and he lightly held your hand the whole way there. "Thanks," you murmured as you dared to meet his eyes. "I'll see you on Monday."

"I can't wait for Monday morning," he said with a huge grin as he released your hand and briefly let his fingers run along your wrist as you turned to leave. With one last smile over your shoulder, you vanished through the door.

"That looked very, very promising," Phoenix said as she had somehow materialized next to Bradley.

"I am a goner," he muttered as he ran his hand along the fabric of his shirt where your fingers had been.

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

Should I continue this?

Here is Part 2!

#bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick

3K notes · View notes

justreadingthings · 8 days

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My ovaries would be crying right now if they had any emotions left in them! (Thank goodness for IUDs, am I right?) I’m obsessed with the idea of Bradshaw as a teacher okay wait, Mr. Rooster??? and I have you to thank, lovely!

So love this first part and I’m gently bullying hoping for more 🤭💜

Meet The Teacher - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley Bradshaw's re-entering civilian life with a new mission - teaching second grade.

a/n: thank you to @nerdgirljen for suggesting the idea with her breakdown of Bradley's military file, and thank you to @floydsmuse, @mamachasesmayhem, and @purelyfiction for reading this over for me last night 😅

pairing: teacher!Bradley Bradshaw x single mom!reader (last name is given to reader) warnings/content: mentions of trauma/injury, mentions of death/parent loss, Bradley pining for a student's mom, allusions to smut (masturbating (m)).

word count: 2.9k

taglist: @avengersfan25 @nouis-bum @sorchathered @hangmansgbaby @sarahsmi13s @jessicab1991 @atarmychick007 @b-bradshaw @djs8891 @primroseluna @silversprings-mp3 @drxgxnslxyer @gardenavenue @seitmai @unhinged-bitch @mattyskies

“You’ve got this, Bradshaw. You’ve got this. It’s just two dozen second graders. You’ve flown fighter jets and stared enemy aircraft in the eye, shot them down midair, you can handle a classroom of second graders.”

Bradley repeated his mantra over and over in the rearview mirror of his car, taking a deep breath as he nodded his head. He adjusted the collar on his baby blue and white striped dress shirt, fingers tracing over the silver chain of his dog tags. His breath hitched in his throat as he ran his fingertip over the beaded chain, letting it out in a strained sigh. He was venturing into uncharted waters here, and he was beginning to wonder if he was in over his head.

Six months ago, he was flying planes, one of the US Navy’s finest aviators. He’d never cared much about what he could have been doing if he hadn’t become a pilot - he’d known as long as he could remember that he wanted to fly. Since his accident though, he began to process all the things he’d let himself miss out on over the past 18 years. At 40 years old, he knew he was pushing his body to its limits, but he didn’t think he’d reached that threshold yet.

He was wrong.

It’d been a routine flight exercise, the kind he’d done about 40,000 times before in his career. His plane’s engine cut out, a mechanical failure beyond anyone’s control that couldn’t have been predicted. He kept his composure, pulled the ejection handle and parachuted his way to the ground below. In an ideal situation, he would have landed perfectly, safe and sound and taken to the hospital for observation but released the next day.

Instead, he’d blown his knee out on his landing, making walking next to impossible, let alone flying.

Presented with his options, returning to flying seemed unlikely. His knee would only likely get worse, and he realized, he sort of liked the idea of settling down someday — he knew forty was a little late in life to realize it, but damn it, he did want a family. He didn’t want to be that dad who couldn’t keep up with his kid. He wanted to be an active, fun parent like he’d remembered his mom being in her lifetime. He wanted to be able to dance with his new bride at his wedding, if it ever happened, and he couldn’t do any of that if his knee was fucked beyond repair.

Dreams of coaching Little League and dancing around kitchens in the soft, yellow glow of overhead lights had suddenly flashed before him in his hospital room, and when the proposition of an honourable discharge came up, an offer absolving him of any guilt for abandoning his post in the pursuit of a civilian little fairytale life, he seized it. He loved flying, but he knew he couldn’t do it forever, despite his best efforts. He needed something to fall back on. And if these hopes and dreams suddenly crossing his mind — having a wife and a family, being a doting dad — were to come true, he needed to start somewhere.

Bradley always swore he’d never leave a wife and family behind. He’d seen what happened when a service member didn’t come home first hand - his dad was killed in a training incident when he was just over two years old, and he’d seen how his whole world turned on its side when it happened. Even as a toddler, he remembered a lot of crying from his mother, and suddenly noticing a huge absence in his life that couldn’t be explained.

He didn’t understand what happened until he turned five, when he finally worked up the courage to ask his mom where his dad was. Why he left. Why he didn’t want to be home with Bradley. The moment he was old enough to decide his career path, he knew he wouldn’t be able to put a wife and children through the things he and his mom had been through. He was better off alone if he was serving. And it suited him just fine for the most part. The odd pang of jealousy when a colleague got married, the occasional feeling that he was missing out on something each time someone he knew announced the arrival of a new baby — they were easy enough to ignore when he focused his attention on his work.

Now, sitting in his parked car, an hour before the start of the school year, he was talking himself through how to survive his first day in his chosen back-up profession — teaching.

He’d minored in education studies at university when he went. He’d promised his mother when he was applying to colleges that he’d pick a good back-up option to flying, just in case he didn’t get into the academy, and everyone knew he was great with kids. He’d often babysat for his mom’s friends, volunteered to coach softball teams and run summer camps at the community centre throughout high school. Teaching seemed like a no-brainer.

He let out a heavy sigh as he strolled into the school, his head held high, lesson plans tucked neatly in a file folder under his arm, his coffee cup in the other hand. He was ready to face the day, and whatever these seven-year-olds had to throw at him.

The day went on without a hitch, much to Bradley’s relief. Twenty-three little darlings sat in their desks, on their best behaviour for their first day of class. He knew it was unlikely that they’d continue to be so well-behaved, but he savoured it while it lasted. His co-workers seemed laidback and relaxed, friendly smiles and waves exchanged frequently in passing, words of advice and encouragement spoken at length over lunch and prep times.

Three o’clock came faster than anticipated, and Bradley felt like he’d barely covered any of his plans for the day. At dismissal, he’d politely waved goodbye to each and every child, introducing himself to the parents he’d missed that morning at drop off, and greeting the ones he’d already met with brief updates about their child’s day. The last child to be picked up was a sweet little boy, with blonde hair and hazel eyes, freckles dotted across the bridge of his nose. Bradley’s brown eyes scanned over the attendance record in his hand. Wells Montgomery.

At 3:10, Wells had grown bored of kicking his soccer ball around the grassy area around the side of the school. He picked his ball up under his arm and hurried back to Bradley.

“Mr. Bradshaw, is my mom here yet?”

“Not yet, bud. She’s probably stuck in traffic coming over the bridge into town. You know, it gets really busy around now. Do you want to come inside and read for a little bit in the classroom?” Bradley squinted, the sun shining brightly into his eyes as he scanned the parking lot for anyone who might be Wells’ mother.

“Ok,” Wells said with a heavy sigh. Bradley furrowed his brow for a moment before looking back to Wells as the two of them headed back into the building.

By 3:20, Bradley was beginning to worry about his new pupil. He didn’t anticipate a parent going missing-in-action on him on his first day of teaching, but faced with the possibility, he began going through the list of possible actions he could take. Just as he pondered over the idea of taking Wells down to the staff room to rummage the cupboards for a still-at-school-after-school snack, you came practically flying through the door, a panicked expression on your face, cheeks reddening when you saw Wells sitting at his desk, quietly reading.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I got held up in a meeting until 2:45, and then traffic was a nightmare, everything was backed up and there’s only two ways onto the island but I couldn’t ditch my car to take the ferry over, I’m so sorry,” you apologized profusely, nodding your head as you looked from Wells, to the teacher seated in the desk and back again, unsure who you needed to apologize to more.

Bradley turned to face you, his eyes raking over you as he assessed the situation. Dressed in a fitted lilac coloured pencil skirt, white tank-top and matching lilac coloured blazer, you looked like something out of a dream to him. He’d never given much thought about what his type in women was before. He’d dated blondes, brunettes, redheads, the occasional girl with bright pink hair, curvy girls, petite girls, mid-sized girls - he never had much of a preference one way or the other as far as appearances went, but God, if he had to sum up his dream girl right now - you were it.

“It’s alright, honestly,” Bradley nodded his head, smiling warmly at you in an effort to ease your concerns. “I’m Mr. Bradshaw, Wells’ teacher for second grade. He’s had a great day today, we were just about to head down to the staff room and see if there were any rogue granola bars hiding in the cupboard for him and I to share.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, your expression softening as Bradley spoke, an instant wave of relief washing over you. “You ready to go, Wellsy?”

“Mom, please,” Wells whined, shaking his head as he grabbed his book and shoved it into his backpack. “She thinks I’m a baby,” he griped, turning to Bradley for a sympathetic smile.

“Moms, huh? Mine was the same way with me.” Bradley laughed softly, waving as you and Wells headed out.

Later that night, Bradley sat on his couch, settling in to watch a baseball game as he poured over the plans for the upcoming week. Cracking open his beer bottle, he sipped the drink, sighing tiredly as he read over the social studies plan, visiting the list of important historical figures he was expected to familiarize the class with over the course of the school year. With one hand, shakily written notes were made in a notebook, scribbling out ideas for fun ways to engage the kids with each important person he was required to introduce.

Setting the beer down on a coaster, he exchanged it for a slice of greasy pizza, his reward for himself at the end of a successful first day of school. He shovelled it into his mouth, sighing as he watched the baseball game unfold. The Padres were down 3-7 in the bottom of the eighth, with not much hope left for them to pull through tonight. Bradley swallowed his mouthful, brushing the grease off his hands onto the leg of his grey sweatpants.

Bradley yawned, tired bleary eyes blinking as he padded down the hallway to his bedroom. He sighed softly and settled into bed, his mind wandering as his head rested on the pillow. Before he realized it, you were on his mind. He’d thought about you a lot that evening, brief intrusions of your smile flashing through his mind as he tried to plan out the upcoming week.

This time though, as he laid there looking up at his ceiling, he thought about your apologies for being late, how it felt like you were pleading with him or Wells to not be upset with you. He thought about how your hair, although tousled from clearly running through parking lots to your car and to the school, framed your face perfectly, and how even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the classroom, you managed to look nothing short of beautiful.

He thought about how well the soft, purple hue of your skirt and blazer suited you, bringing out the glow of your skin and the colour of your eyes. He thought about how it hugged your curves as you left, hand in hand with Wells, the swish of your hips as you walked down the hallway. He thought about how he was pretty sure he didn’t see a wedding band on your finger, but also admonished himself for even checking. He couldn’t date a student’s parent. He knew better than that.

But still, he couldn’t help but think about you.

The next couple of weeks went by and Bradley’s interest in you grew fonder. He’d begun watching for you subtly at morning drop-offs and pick-ups, hoping to at least say hello once a day. On the last Friday of the month, you stopped him as he headed for his car, watching as Wells played on the playground equipment facing the parking lot.

“Mr. Bradshaw!” you called out, and Bradley couldn’t help but feel like you were making his name sound like a chorus of angels singing.

“Hey, Mrs. Montgomery! Is everything ok?” Bradley asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Everything’s fine, yes,” you nodded, smiling as you gently corrected him about your name. You hadn’t been Mrs. Montgomery in two years, but, you couldn’t fault Bradley for slipping up, you knew the school secretary likely didn’t alert him ahead of time. You stifled a giggle as Bradley’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, now his turn to apologize profusely to you.

You waved a hand dismissively and smiled, turning to watch Wells play once again.

“You know, it may have only been a few weeks, but Wells speaks very highly of you,” you started, nodding in confirmation as you watched him play, your gaze turning to land on Bradley for a moment, “He hasn’t been this interested in anything since his dad moved across the country.”

“Oh? I’m glad I could help him enjoy school again. I try my best to keep things fun and exciting in the classroom — kids learn better when they’re excited and interested in something. No one has fun being read to from a textbook over and over again all day,” Bradley explained.

“Well, Mr. Bradshaw, you’re doing a really good job of it. He came home excited to tell me that he learned about George Washington yesterday. I’m pretty sure two days ago he had no idea who that was.”

“Please,” Bradley laughed softly, shaking his head, “You can call me Bradley. It’s less formal.”

“Bradley,” you repeated, nodding as you chuckled to yourself, “Bradley Bradshaw?”

“My dad had a sense of humour,” Bradley shrugged, looking out at the playground as Wells chased one of his friends around. “He’s a good kid, you know. Wells.”

“I know, I’m proud of how well he’s handling things now that his dad got relocated. Pensacola’s a lot further than he anticipated. He was hoping for Corpus Christi at least.”

Bradley’s ears piqued at the mention of Wells’ dad relocating. Pensacola and Corpus Christi both housed Naval Air bases, he was more than familiar with both of them. He’d only ever been stationed between Oceana, Miramar and North Island, but in his eighteen years of service, he’d met plenty of service members who hailed from one of the two bases originally.

“Wells’ dad is a pilot?”

“Mhmm, well, mechanic, actually. He doesn’t fly them in combat,” you commented, raising an eyebrow at Bradley. “You seemed to guess that really well. Most people don’t guess pilot.”

“I used to be a Naval pilot, m’am,” he nodded, smiling proudly as he thought about his accomplished Naval career once again. “Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw, US Naval Air Force. I was stationed at NAS Oceana, transferred here to North Island, wrecked my knee, now I’m a teacher.”

“That’s quite the pipeline into teaching, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Please, it’s Bradley. It’s nice not going by my rank, actually.”

“Well, Bradley, I’d love to hear how exactly you landed on teaching second grade as a backup to flying F/A-18s for the United States Navy some day.” You nodded, hoping Bradley wouldn’t take offence to the suggestion of getting together at some point. Even if it was just as friends, you’d welcome it.

“That sounds like a good idea to me, actually. I’d love to.”

As Bradley headed to his car, he felt a little bounce in his step. He couldn’t help himself. Even if this just turned into a friendship and nothing more, he felt grateful that you wanted to spend time getting to know him better.

His drive home was filled with more thoughts of you, thoughts of your pretty pastel coloured outfits you always seemed to favour, thoughts of your perfect smile, always beaming and cheerful, bright enough to brighten his entire day in a way that should make the sun jealous, thoughts of your hair, how it always looked so perfectly imperfect.

In bed that night, Bradley thought about your legs, how they were long and lean, curving at your thigh. He thought about how good your ass looked in your skirt earlier today, how the material hugged it tightly. He thought about your thighs, how they looked so perfectly smooth and soft, how your plain white t-shirt that was tucked into your skirt did little to hide the swell of your breasts, and the way the curve of your neck looked irresistible, how badly he wanted to plant his lips on your skin and cover you in a trail of kisses.

Bradley thought about you in a lot of ways that night. None of them were ways he was proud of. But as he stared up at the ceiling this time, you were the only thing on his mind. He didn’t know much about how he’d go about this newfound infatuation with you. All he knew was that if he was going to settle down with anyone, he was almost positive it would be with you.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick

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justreadingthings · 8 days

Text

Two dumb sweethearts head over heels for each other is exactly what I want to read about! This is so so good and I can’t get enough 💙

I Promised You I’d Never Give Up - Part 4

➪the one where bradley comes home and the two of you finally celebrate your engagement.

Warnings: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, swearing, unprotected sex, pain kink, oral (f receiving), pda, hair pulling, mentions of a sex tape, fingering, multiple orgasms, soft dom bradley, daddy kink...?, more than half of this is just smut lolz....the end...?

Word Count: 7.7k | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Yes…feels so good, Bradley,”

Bradley groaned as he watched the video you and he made the night before his two month deployment. He was painfully hard, and while his hand helped relieve it a bit, nothing compares to you.

“Bradley,” your voice cried through the phone’s speakers. “Touch me, please.”

“Fuck,” he grunted, stroking himself a bit faster and squeezing his eyes shut when the phone landed on the bed and kept recording the sounds of your sweet moans. He was left to imagine your beautiful face and your sinful body in his mind, the sounds you made when you came spurring his own release. “Baby.”

He wished you were there with him so badly. As he painted his hand white with his release, he glanced down at his phone and watched as you ran your finger through the mess he made on you before licking it clean and smiling.

Then the video ended and he was left feeling only half satisfied.

He felt grateful that he had the video on his phone, and a bit bad that you were left with nothing. He smirked to himself as he began cleaning up the evidence of what he did, the email you sent him nearly two months ago flashing in his mind.

I should’ve made you send that video to me before you left. I want you so badly, I can’t even function properly.

He knew you were over-exaggerating a bit, but it was still kinda funny to imagine you not being able to get yourself off when he wasn’t there to do it for you. It also turned him on, thus resulting in him watching the video you made together for the hundredth time since he started this deployment.

He could only imagine you laying on your shared bed, your fingers doing nothing at all to soothe the ache in your core. Then he imagines your fingers in general, and how he put a ring on one of them before he left.

“Bradshaw,” Jake called through the locked door. “You decent? We’re going home tomorrow, I need to pack.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bradley muttered as he stuffed his phone into his packed bag before unlocking and opening the door. “You really think I’m not aware of the fact that we’re going home in less than twenty hours?”

Jake rolled his eyes as he entered the small room and sat down on his bed. “No, I didn’t think that,” he answered as he pulled his bag out from under the bed frame. “You’ve been all packed up and ready to go for days now. You’re usually the one reminding me.”

“Can you blame me?” Bradley grinned as he sat down on his bed. “You know you miss her just as much as I do.”

Jake nodded and began messily throwing his clothes into the bag. “Just not in the same way,”

Bradley huffed out a laugh and moved to lay down. “Yeah, and you’re lucky that’s the case,” he said and looked over at the blond. “You ever like her as more than a friend, Seresin?”

Jake stopped packing and gave him a weary look, making Bradley’s small smile disappear as he put on a stern look.

“You can tell me,” he pressed. “I won’t get mad.”

“Yeah, right,” Jake snorted and set his bag aside. “Like hell you won’t. You’re so obsessed with Y/n, you’d get mad if Bob was looking at her in a certain way.”

“Nah,” the brunet disagreed as he tucked his hands behind his head. “I’d never get mad at Bob.”

“Just at me,” Jake muttered before sitting up straight. “No. I’ve never liked her as more than a friend. She’s like my sister, and you should know that by now, Rooster.”

Bradley hummed, closing his eyes as he refrained from counting down the minutes until he was back with you. “Just making sure we’re still on the same page here, Hangman,”

“We are,” Jake confirmed, zipping up his poorly packed bag and setting it down on the floor. “When we get back, are you going to let me say hi to her before you drag her back home and do whatever it is that you two do together?”

“No,”

When Bradley added a headshake in, Jake huffed and moved to lay down as well. “Why am I not surprised,”

I can see the dock. Please tell me you’re there.

Bradley hastily typed out the message before sending it to you, looking up as if that would help him figure out where you were in the crowd. The dock couldn’t get closer any slower if it tried, he thought as he looked back down at his phone.

Pretty girl: I’m here, Bradley. Of course I’m here. I missed you so much.

His heart skipped a beat or two as he dropped his bag onto the ground of the carrier deck and replied to you.

I missed you, too. Almost there, baby. I hope you’re ready.

Your instant response had him smirking.

Pretty girl: Been ready for the last two months. Been wet, too. Still am.

He picked his bag back up when the carrier finally reached the dock, and he had to refrain from using his size to his advantage like he didn’t necessarily enjoy doing. Bradley had long since lost sight of Jake as he finally made it off the carrier. He fumbled around with his phone when he stepped onto the dock, bringing it up to his ear after clicking on your contact. “Baby, where are you?” He asked as soon as you answered.

“Made it easy for you,” you answer and he could’ve moaned at how sweet your voice sounded. Sure, he heard your voice in the video, but hearing you in real life, even through a phone call, had his mind going into a frenzy. It was fucking torture that he wasn’t allowed to call you at all this time around. “At the very back, close to the road.”

He actually groaned this time as he moved through the crowd, pressing his phone tightly against his ear. “I’m coming, pretty girl,”

He could practically hear your smirk. “Not yet,” you say. “But you will be soon.”

Before Bradley could moan again, he felt someone grip his shoulder. He turned for a brief second, the sight behind him making him roll his eyes before turning back around and heading towards the far end of the dock. “Jake’s with me, too,”

“Jake! I missed him!” You say excitedly and Bradley once again rolls his eyes. Jake was such a fucking mood killer, it was unfair. This wasn’t the first time the blond had interrupted his time with you. He had nearly walked in on Bradley jerking off more than a few times during the last couple of months, and now he was interrupting his foreplay with you.

“You missed me more,” he said smoothly as Jake kept a firm hold on his shoulder, as if he was a mother guiding her child through a busy store.

“Jesus, Bradshaw, slow down,” Jake called out over the chaos of people around them. “I need a ride.”

Bradley stopped dead in his tracks, making Jake bump into him. “Like fuck you do,” he said, still holding the phone to his ear.

“Come on, man, I said I might need you to drop me off once we got back,” Jake pointed out and Bradley was about to disagree with that until he suddenly remembered the conversation the two of them had a few nights ago. It was right after Jake had nearly walked in on Bradley watching the video, and his head was still swarming with the image of you, he couldn’t be blamed for tuning the other guy out.

“Fuck, you’re right,” he muttered before continuing to walk, ignoring the smirk Jake gave him as he followed closely behind. “We need to drop Jake off, baby. Then we’re going home.”

“God, I can’t wait for you to take me home,” you all but moaned into the phone, and of course the sound went right to Bradley’s dick.

He grunted, glancing back at his…friend? Is that what the two aviators were now? “I’m almost there,”

“I can’t wait,” you say back. “I’m literally shaking.”

Bradley grinned as he finally made it through the swarm of people, and then he was scanning the area for both you and the Bronco. He barely acknowledged Jake as his eyes met yours, and he hung up the phone and was making his way over to you within four strides.

You met him a little less than halfway and jumped into his awaiting arms after he dropped his bag. “Bradley,” you say, relief evident in your voice as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “I missed you.”

His lips were on yours shortly after that, and his hands moved to hold your dress down so you didn’t accidentally flash the many people around. Your teeth nipped his lips as you pressed kiss after kiss to them, your hands sliding up and tangling in his slightly longer hair.

He was planning on going and getting it cut when he got back to San Diego, but might hold off on that as your relentless tugging felt even better than before. “Baby,” he mumbled when he pulled away and wrapped his arms around you tightly. “I missed you so fucking much. My girl. My fiancée.” He grabs your hand in his and kisses your finger that held your pretty ring, and it was nearly blinding as it reflected off the sun.

Now that he knew what it was like, he was certain that nothing felt better than having someone to come back to after his deployments, and having that someone be you was making him feel slightly feral.

You grin as he kisses you again, your lips meshing together a bit awkwardly at first before you start to kiss him back. “Bradley,” you sigh against his mouth, pulling away just slightly. “I need…Jake!”

“I need- what?” Bradley barely managed to ask before he felt a light slap on his back.

“Hey, sweetheart,” came Jake’s voice from behind him. “Did you miss me, too?”

You smile at him and move to get down. Bradley helps you steady yourself before you throw yourself at Jake. “Of course I missed you,”

“It’s good to see you,” he says as he returns the hug. The second you stepped away, Bradley was pulling you against his side and pressing kiss after kiss to the top of your head. “And I know, I know. I’m ruining your little reunion, so the quicker we leave, the quicker you can drop me off and the quicker you two can get home.”

“You’re right again, Seresin,” Bradley said as he picked his bag up and tugged you over to the passenger side door of the Bronco. He opens it and kisses you again once you are seated, moving to stand in between your thighs as you pull him closer. His hands grip your waist while yours tangle in his hair, and he knew if you kept this up, he would be sporting a hard on in no time. He groaned as he pulled away. “We gotta go.” He stated, kissing you one last time before closing the door and opening the back one.

Jake pushes past him and hops in the Bronco, grinning at Bradley as he says, “And they say chivalry is dead,”

You turn and look back at him as Bradley throws his bag at Jake before closing the door. “Have you two finally gotten past whatever it was that was between you? Dare I ask, are you two friends?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Bradley answers as he gets in on the drivers side.

“We’re working on it,” Jake says and settles back against the seat.

You raise a brow as Bradley takes your hand in his and pulls out of the parking spot, driving a bit over the speed limit in order to get rid of Jake as fast as he could. “I’m really glad you two are finally getting along,” you say as you near Jake’s street. “My best friend and boyfriend are actually becoming friends. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I’m sorry, your what?” Bradley asks, looking over at you with a smirk.

You match it as you lean over and grip his thigh. “Sorry,” you say. “I meant my best friend and my fiancé.”

“Better,” he murmured and refrained from rolling his eyes at the loud way Jake cleared his throat.

“You guys are too much,” he says and takes off his seatbelt. “Hold off on jumping each other for thirty more seconds, okay? I’ll be gone soon enough.”

You laugh and pull away, much to Bradley’s dismay as he reaches Jake’s house. “There you go, now get out,” he says and you slap his arm.

“Bradley,” you scold as Jake opens the back door and gets out.

“It’s fine. We spent the last two months together,” he says and smiles at you. “I’m sick of the guy, too.”

Bradley glared at him as Jake winks at you before walking into his house. “He’s gone,” you state the obvious and grip his thigh again. “Now don’t make me beg. Take me home.”

He groaned, pulling out of Jake’s driveway then taking your hand again. “But you know I love it when you beg,” he smirked as his thumb spun the ring around your finger. “My fiancée is so needy for me.”

You bring your joined hands up to your mouth, where you gently begin sucking on his index finger. “You have no idea,” you mumble and Bradley was barely able to concentrate on driving as he felt your tongue swirl around the tip of his finger. “I’ve only made myself come twice since you’ve been gone.”

“What?” He asked in shock, looking over at you when he stopped at a red light. His thumb pulled at your bottom lip, his brows furrowing when you let out a needy whine. “You’ve gotten yourself off twice in two months? That’s it?”

You whine again as your face heats up. “They both lasted less than a second each. I can’t make myself feel as good as you do,” you defended yourself. “How many times did you get off?”

“Like, nearly every night,” he grunted, driving again once the light turned green. “Fuck, baby, now I feel bad.”

You laughed, bringing his hand down so it was gripping your thigh. “Don’t,” you wave off. “It was quite eye opening to realize that you were right when you said I wouldn’t be able to forget you were gone once I tried to make myself come without you here to do it for me.”

His smirk grew as his hand slid higher up your thigh. “I’m really glad I was right about that,” he briefly looked over at you, his gaze softening as he noticed the way your face was flushed and your eyes were wide with lust. “You need me, huh?” His quiet question lacked any sort of mockery, and he sounded so genuine.

It had you squeezing your thighs together. “Bradley,”

“I need you, too,” he continued as he turned onto yours and his street. “I need to feel you, right here.” His hand moved under your dress and stroked your lace covered core.

“Oh, God,” you moan and grip his wrist as he begins to softly rub your clit.

Bradley pulled into the driveway and pulled the keys out not even a second later. “Come here, baby,” he rasped, helping you over the center console and letting you settle against his lap. “Come ride my thigh.”

You brace yourself on his lap and place your hands on his shoulders, your fingers digging into his uniform shirt. His hands grab your waist and pull your body right up against his before gently guiding you forward.

The soft, relieved sigh that leaves your mouth had him leaning in and connecting his mouth to yours. “Missed that sound,” he mumbled, rocking your hips against his thigh. “That video doesn’t do you any justice, pretty girl.”

You whine, tangling your hands in his hair. “I wanna see it,” you whisper, moving your body with the help of his hands. “Did you watch it a lot?”

He hummed, nodding before pushing you back a bit and kissing along the tops of your breasts. “I couldn’t stop watching it,” he confessed. You moan and lean back against the steering wheel, making sure, even in your lust filled haze, to not put too much pressure on the middle of it. “You looked so hot, baby, like you do right now.”

You whimper, blindly reaching for his biceps as his hands slide up your back. “Bradley,” you moan, helplessly clenching around nothing as you grind your core against his khaki covered thigh.

“I know, baby,” he cooed, kissing your neck before gently sucking a mark there. You moan a bit louder, reaching one hand down and gripping him through his pants. He groaned against your skin, sliding his hands to rest on the small of your back, where he tugged you forward with a bit more force than last time.

“Feels so good,” you whimper, leaning in and kissing him roughly.

Bradley didn’t really plan on getting you off in the Bronco and in your driveway, where literally any one of your neighbors could walk out of their houses and see you (which is why he didn’t pull your dress down and ravish your tits like he really wanted to - the neighbors did not need to see you in that way). But then you told him you hadn’t been able to make yourself feel good enough to the point of coming without him there.

At first he felt bad, but now he just felt smug and a bit full of himself. He had ruined you for any other guy - not that any other guy would even get a chance with you now - and even ruined you for yourself.

He had made you so needy for him, and that fact had made him painfully hard.

With that being said, he had a lot of making up to do.

He grunted quietly at your words, pulling away from your neck so he could take over the uneven movement of your hips. “Bradley,” you warn in a breathy voice.

“You gonna come?” He rasped, bending his knee a bit so his thigh tightened and gave you a more firm surface.

It was almost comical how quickly he was able to get you off without even actual penetration, and you were a bit embarrassed at the many hours you spent trying to do it to yourself when he was away. Nothing felt better than him, and that was beyond clear at this point.

You just whimper in response and cling onto him with shaky hands. “It’s okay,” he says quietly, kissing your jaw as your movements become a bit more frantic. “Come, sweet girl, you deserve it.”

His words go right through you and you cry out a bit, pressing your lips to his in an attempt to silence your sounds. “Fuck,” you whisper against his mouth as you stop grinding against him. You pull away with a fucked out expression on your face, and Bradley is sure he’s never seen a hotter sight. “Hi.”

He grins and kisses you quickly, smoothing out the fabric of your dress. “Hey,”

You smile back and glance down at the damp spot on his pants, a teasing look in your eyes. “I missed you,”

Bradley reached for the door handle and kept his free hand on your lower back as he got out. “I missed you,” he said back as he carried you up to the front door. He gives you his keys as he sets you down, his hands gripping your waist when you turn and unlock the door. “God, you look so pretty.”

You give him a smirk from over your shoulder as you enter the house, and he follows close behind and kicks the door shut behind him. “Guess what?” You ask as you turn around and drape your arms around his neck.

He hummed, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as he pulled you against him. “What?”

“In a few days it’ll be one year since we met,”

Your words didn’t sound true to him, as it felt like he had known you for a lot longer than a year by this point, but when he gave it some thought, he realized you were right.

He was going on half a year of being with you, unofficially, when he fucked up and broke things off, then he spent a month and a half on his own, then another three after that with you as his official girlfriend, and now it’s been another two months.

“You’re right,” he mumbled, holding you even closer to him. “Almost one whole year since the second best night of my life.”

You squint as you play with his pins. “What’s the first?”

“The night I got you back,” he answered, kissing the corner of your mouth. “The same night I told you I love you.”

You give him a dumb grin as you tug at the hair on the back of his neck. “What a perfect night that was,” you agree and he shakes his head as he picks you up effortlessly and carries you down the hall towards your bedroom.

“It was perfect because you decided to forgive me for some reason,” he says as he lays you down on the bed. “Still haven’t quite figured out why you did that, but I’ll never complain.”

You shake your head as he unbuttons his shirt and lets it drop to the floor. “I’d forgive you a hundred times again if it meant it ended with us being together,”

Bradley kissed your mouth deeply, his hand coming up to grip one of your breasts through your dress as he did so. “We’ll always be together, I made sure of that,” he held up your left hand so your ring is on full display. That same hand tangles in his hair as he kisses his way down your body. “Now let’s see the mess you made.”

He pulls down your damp panties and drops them to the floor as well, his eyes darkening at your glistening core. You gasp as he leans in and licks a stripe up your folds, the sudden stimulation making your body shudder a bit.

His tongue gently traces circles onto your clit, and you tug on his hair in the way you know he loves. “Bradley,” you whimper, shaking a bit when he lifts a hand and slowly slips his middle and index fingers into you. “It’s too much.”

But your walls greedily sucked the digits in deeper, betraying your own words. “You can take it,”

And you could. He would never make you do something you weren’t comfortable with, nor would he ever push you past your limit. He knew how much you could handle, and he knew you weren’t close to that point yet. His dick twitched at the thought of getting you there, though.

You moan quietly, propping yourself up on one elbow as you thread your fingers through his hair. “Don’t cut this,” you softly request, making him laugh against you. The vibrations had you clenching tightly around his fingers and another moan leaving your lips, this one much louder than the last.

He pulls away from your core with wet lips that were curved into a smirk. “You like me with longer hair, huh?” He teased, tracing your clit again with a barely-there pressure.

“I love you with longer hair,” you correct and tilt your head back. “Please, don’t cut it for a little while, okay?”

He laughed again, fucking his fingers a bit faster into you. “I’ll keep it this way for as long as you want,” he offered and was completely serious. His hair had only grown about an inch while he was deployed, and though he preferred to have it short, he wasn’t opposed to growing it out for you.

In other words, he was completely whipped for you and wanted to do any little thing that would make you happy, and he would proudly admit that to anyone who asked.

“You love me that much, huh?” You tease back, your face scrunching up a bit as his fingers reach that spot deep within you.

“I think I love you a bit too much,” he said, his mouth returning to your clit. Your mouth opens in a quiet whine, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as he circles the bundle of nerves with his tongue. “You’re going to be my wife. My fucking wife.”

You grin down at him, your thighs shaking a bit when he fucks his tongue into you. “You kept your word, huh? About ensuring that I’d grow sick of you? I’ve heard a lot of horror stories about wives growing sick of their husbands, Bradley,”

He looks up at you, his mouth glistening. “We’re meant to be together, baby,” he states, wrapping his arms around your thighs. “You can grow as sick of me as you want, but I’m never getting over you.”

Tugging harshly at his hair, you whimper. “You always say the sweetest things,”

“I know,” he agrees. “You’ve made me so pathetic, but it’s worth it.”

You shake your head quickly, reaching further down and caressing the side of his face. “You’re not pathetic, Bradley,” you scolded with a hint of playfulness in your voice, but you were also dead serious. “Meeting you that night at the Hard Deck was the best thing that ever happened to me, and everything that happened after that led up to this. I wouldn’t change a thing. Not even the heartbreaks.”

Bradley pulled his mouth away and stared up at you with nothing but love in his dark eyes. “Baby,” he rasped, using his free hand to assist him in crawling back up your body. He continues to fuck his fingers into you as he presses his mouth to yours in a desperate and needy kiss. “I promise I will never hurt you ever again. That was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I promise, for as long as I’m with you, I’ll make sure you’re so fucking happy all the time.”

You smile into the kiss, raking your nails down his back with just enough pressure to cause the sting he loved so much. “Guess I’m going to be so fucking happy for the rest of my life,”

He grinned back at you. “I’ll make sure of it,” he repeats as the tips of his fingers brush against your sweet spot.

Your smile breaks as a moan tumbles from your mouth, and you grab onto his hair tightly and bring his mouth to yours in a messy kiss. “‘M gonna come again,”

Bradley hums against your mouth, your salivas mixing together and wetting both yours and his lips. “Come for me, baby,” he practically begged, wanting nothing more than to get you off at least a couple more times in the remainder of the day since you had been deprived of it for so long.

You gladly do as he says and come for the second time since he returned home. Your body shook a bit uncontrollably as you moaned against his mouth, his throat swallowing all of your sweet sounds. “Bradley,” you nearly whispered, reaching down to still his hand once you felt the sensitivity begin to take over.

“I know, pretty girl,” he cooed, kissing you again before slowly pulling his fingers out of your sopping core. Seconds later he was sucking them clean of your release, never breaking eye contact with you as he did so. “You’re so good for me, baby. Taste so good.”

“Jesus,” you mutter as you try to stop your legs from shaking. He just smiles at you, his hands reaching down to pull your dress up and over your head.

He leans down and kisses along the tops of your breasts, his fingers playing with the straps of your bra as he did so. “You gonna let me fuck you, sweet girl?” He asked, reaching behind you and unclasping your bra. “Think you can take another one?”

You nod your head as he drops your bra off the side of the bed, your kiss swollen lips puffed out and begging him to cover them with his own again. “Always,” you answer, unzipping his pants with shaky fingers.

Bradley watched with a teasing grin, his eyes moving up your bare body and meeting your own. “I don’t think you’re ready for another one,” he mumbled, trailing his fingers down your chest until they were pinching your nipples. “Think you need a minute.”

“No,” you shake your head and push down his khaki pants just enough to be able to free him from his tight boxer briefs. “Bradley, please.”

He just grinned down at your pleads, smoothing your hair out again. “You need me, hm?” He knew he was being cruel, but the sight of you so needy and whiny and desperate for him was one he loved to see. “You need to be filled.”

It wasn’t a question, because you both know the answer to it. “I need it so badly,” you agreed, pulling down his briefs and wrapping your small fingers around him. “Haven’t you missed being inside of me?”

Bradley groaned quietly as you began to stroke him. “Of course I did, baby,” he answered, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. Your hand felt so much better than his own, and he knew no one else could get him going like you can. “Missed it so much.”

“Then stop teasing me,” you murmur, stroking him a bit faster. He grunted and kissed your shoulder before sucking a mark there, and you moan as you wrap your legs around his waist. Biting down harshly on your lip, you think about what you were going to say next very carefully, and more specifically, what you were going to call him. You were a bit nervous as you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, but decided to go for it. You could wallow in the embarrassment later if he were to not be into it. “Come on, please….daddy.”

It was as if all the air in the room had been sucked away. Bradley tensed up immediately, his mouth detaching from your shoulder as he slowly began to lift his head. Your heart was beating loudly in your ears and your skin was on fire as you waited to see his reaction.

You were a bit worried that his silence meant something bad, but when he lifted his head all the way and finally met your gaze, his eyes were even darker and his expression told you all you needed to know. He was into it. “Daddy…huh?” He tested the word out and noticed the way you squirmed under him when he said it. He braced his forearms on either side of your head as he ground his front against yours, his mouth muffling the moan you let out as he pressed a deep kiss to your lips. “I’m your daddy, hm, baby?” He asked when he pulled away, his eyes flickering between your own and your mouth.

You nod once and smile shyly up at him, as if you hadn’t just called him your fucking daddy.

He groaned loudly, growing impossibly harder. “Is it because I’m ten years older than you?”

You shrug. “Maybe. I just wanted to try it out,” you mumble. “See how it felt. If you’re not into it-”

“Oh, I’m into it,” he cut you off, kissing your neck and throat as he tried to hold back his groans. “Fuck, am I into it. I’m trying not to come right now after hearing you call me that.”

You laugh, a blush taking over your face. “So, we’re both okay with it,” you state and he nods quickly. “Okay….now can you please fuck me? I missed you for two months, daddy.”

Bradley growled under his breath, reaching down and guiding himself into your dripping core without any resistance from you. “Fuck,” he grunted, sliding one arm under you while his other hand reaches up and tangles in your hair. “You feel so fucking perfect.”

You moan at the stretch of your walls, your own fingers being nothing compared to him. It was no wonder you couldn’t get yourself off when it was this you were so used to. “You’re so big,” you gasp when he begins to roughly rock his hips against yours. “Oh, God.”

“Not quite,” he rasped, pressing his forehead against yours with a smirk forming on his lips. “I think we established who I am to you, huh?”

Another blush takes over your face as you nod, raking your hands through his messy hair. “Right,” you say, wrapping your legs tighter around his hips. “You fill me up so well, daddy. Make me feel so good.”

“That’s right, baby,” he murmured, kissing you again as he fucked into you hard and fast, just the way he knew you needed. Your core greedily took every thrust, though sensitive, but desperate to be filled up by him. “‘M gonna make you my wife, pretty girl. Show everyone how much I fucking love you.”

Not that everyone didn’t already know, he wanted to add but didn’t. It was true, though. Everyone knew that he was in love with you before he even realized it himself.

You whine quietly, tracing his scars with the tip of your index finger. Your body rocked against his with every grind of his hips, your hands clinging onto any part of him they could get a firm grip on. “I love you, Bradley,” you moan, digging your heel into his lower back and driving him deeper into you. “I have since the very beginning.”

“I’ve loved you for almost a year now,” he commented, pulling away with a grin. “A whole year.”

You grin back, kissing his cheek and then his neck as you ask, “Bradley, let me ride you, please?”

It wasn’t a position you found yourself in too often, as you both preferred him to be on top, but it was one that allowed him to reach the deepest part of you.

He grunted and pulled away from you. “You think you can keep up, sweet girl? I’ve made you come twice now and you’re looking a little spent,”

“You’re the one who is ten years older, remember?” You remind him as you writhe around a bit. “I think I can keep up just fine.”

Bradley hummed, his grin turning into a smirk as he placed one hand on your lower back and pulled your body against his as he flipped you over so he was on his back. “Okay,” he challenged in a deep tone. “Ride me, then.”

You place your palms flat against his chest as you sink down onto him, the new angle making him stretch you in the best way possible. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

He laughs a bit as his hands move to grip your waist and help guide you up and down on him. “What makes you say that?”

Your brows furrow a bit as your nails dig into his skin. “You’ve gotten me off two times now, it’s not fair. You’ve ruined me,”

He laughed again, his thumbs pressing into the skin of your hips as you slowly rode him. “I thought that was a good thing,”

“It is,” you whisper as he reaches the deepest part of you, his tip brushing against your sweet spot. “Fuck.”

Bradley gives you a half smirk and half grin as he stills you by your hips and thrusts sharply upwards. “There?” He asks under his breath, knowing the answer but wanting to hear you say it.

Of course you give in. “Yes,” you whimper, scratching down his chest as he fucks up into you. “Right there, Bradley. Feels so good.”

You clench down tightly around him and Bradley had to force himself to not come right then and there. “I know,” he muttered through a tight jaw, his brows furrowing as you lean down and press multiple kisses to the scars on his throat and neck. “I know, baby, you feel so fucking good, too.”

“Bradley,” you whine, reaching a hand up and tugging on his hair. “I’m gonna come.”

Bradley, who had been holding off since he got you off in the Bronco, felt his body tense up as he helped you ride him until you had come for the third time since he got back. Your warmth floods around him and makes it easier to thrust up into you, and the fucked out expression you wore had him grunting as he came deep within you. “Fuck,” he rasped, keeping your body pressed firmly against his.

Still buried in you, Bradley slides his hands up your body until he is able to grip the back of your shoulders and hold you against him as he moves to lay on his side. You laugh loudly, wrapping your leg around his waist and draping your arms around his neck.

“I love you,” he murmured as he pressed kisses to your neck, his hand blindly reaching for your left one. He pulled back to be able to look at your ring for a few seconds, a dumb grin taking over his lips once he looked back at you. “I can’t believe we’re gonna get married. I mean, I can, but I can’t.”

You shake your head and lean up to kiss the base of his throat, feeling his deep groan against your lips. “Let’s go to the Hard Deck later,” you offer with a teasing smile.

He groaned again and shook his head, wrapping you up tighter in his arms and moving back up to the pillows. “No, baby, I wanna stay home with you all night,”

The movement caused him to shift slightly inside you, making you hold back a whine at the nearly overwhelming feeling of sensitivity. You couldn’t believe he had made you come three times in under an hour, when you couldn’t even do that after spending multiple hours trying to. “But we have some exciting news to share with our friends,” you state and run your fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth it out.

Bradley furrows his brows as he runs his hand up and down your back. “What do you mean?” He asks, pulling back to be able to look at you when you didn’t respond. Realization kicked in and his eyes widened a bit. “You didn’t tell anyone?”

You smile and shake your head. “No, I wanted us to tell them together. I hid my ring in public,” you say. “Why, who did you tell?”

“Only Jake, like, right after it happened,” he says as he finally pulls out and sits up against the headboard. You prop yourself up on your elbow and trail your fingers over the crevices of his abs, your mind a bit hazy at just how fit he is. “I swear, if he’s already told everyone I will make sure he does not get invited to the wedding. I don’t care if he’s our friend.”

“Our friend?” You ask with wide eyes. “I knew you two made up! Bradley, I’m so happy! You two were feuding for way too long.”

“That wasn’t my fault. Yeah, I fucked up first, but he’s the one who never gave me the time of day after you and I got back together,” he pointed out and wrapped his hand around your wrist, his thumb twirling your ring around. “He acted like I didn’t feel guilty for six weeks straight after we…broke up.”

“Bradley,” you trail off, sitting up and nuzzling into his side. “No more thinking about that day. Look at us now. We’re engaged. You’re going to be my husband, Bradley. Everything worked out in the end.”

He nodded and kissed the side of your head, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Yeah, I’ll always feel bad about it, though,” he mumbled but before you could scold him again he added, “Fuck it, we’re going out tonight. I can’t wait to show you off to everyone. Nat is going to freak the fuck out.”

“So, before we go in there, we need to address something,” Bradley says as you and he stand outside the Hard Deck. He wore tight fitting jeans and a pale blue and white Hawaiian shirt, and he looked damn near edible, you almost wanted to turn right back around so he could get you off for a fourth time.

Thinking he was referring to your secret engagement, you move closer to him and wrap your arms around his neck. “What is it?”

He grips your waist and the smirk that formed on his lips was all you needed to see to realize it wasn’t about the engagement. “This whole ‘daddy’ thing wasn’t a one time thing, right? Please don’t say it was a one time thing,”

You blush a bit and match his smirk, dropping your arms as you lean up and whisper, “Let’s go share our news, daddy,”

Bradley held back a groan as he blindly reached behind him and pulled open the door. You enter the Hard Deck tucked securely under his arm, your left hand hidden away in his back pocket. As soon as Nat locked eyes with him she was pushing her way through the crowd of aviators and throwing herself into her best friend’s arms. “I’m so happy you’re back,” she admitted and Bradley laughed as he hugged her back. “I gotta say, Y/n and I’s girl days weren’t really girl days at all. She spent the whole time whining about how much she missed you. It was sad, really.”

Your face heats up and you look away quickly, making Bradley grin down at you once he pulls away from the hug. “Yeah, well, I’m sure Jake feels the same way you do, Nat,” he said as he pulled you back into his side. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” she said back, looking between you and him. “It’s even better to see you two back together. So, when’s the wedding? I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t asked you to marry him yet.”

You and Bradley share a not-so-obvious look and Nat raises a brow.

“What? What am I missing…” she trailed off once you lifted your left hand and showed her the ring you spent the last two months hiding from her. Her face stayed a bit expressionless as she looked at the ring, then it was as a switch flipped as she let out a small squeal before covering her mouth. “You guys are engaged?! When? Where? How did this happen? Damn, Rooster, you haven’t even been home for twenty four hours yet and you already proposed to her?”

“As if,” he scoffed. “No, I proposed to her two months ago.”

Nat looked over at you with shock all over her face. “What? What the fuck, Y/n, how did you hide that from me?”

You shrugged. “I’m good at hiding things, I guess,”

This time Nat was the one to scoff. “Yeah, right. You couldn’t even keep your crush on Rooster a secret,” she said and you press your lips together in slight embarrassment when you hear Bradley laugh next to you. “We all knew you were in love with him from the night you met. You weren’t smooth about it at all.”

Bradley looks down at you with a teasing smile. “Aw,”

“Hey, you weren’t smooth about it, either,” Nat added, making his smile drop. “I can’t believe you guys are engaged! It took you long enough.” She moved to hug him again then moved onto you.

“Only you and Jake know now,” you say as you hug her back. “We’re going to announce it here.”

She pulled back with a barely concealed smile. “How did he go about it? Was it romantic?”

You look up at him with a sheepish grin. “He did it back on the dock before he left for his deployment. It was pretty romantic,”

Nat looked over at him as well. “Damn, Bradley, you left right after proposing?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t wait any longer,”

“You guys are seriously so cute. I’m so happy for you,” she beamed. “Now please tell everyone else. I have a big mouth and I’m refraining from screaming right now.”

And that was how you found yourself surrounded by the dagger squad, a beer in everyone’s hands as they congratulated you on your engagement. “Thank God you two got here before I did,” Jake said as he stood next to you at the bar. “I thought big mouth over here would’ve told everyone the second she left that dock. I was going to bring it up with Javy later. That would’ve been pretty awkward.” He nudged you and you rolled your eyes.

“Thanks for not spoiling the surprise, Jake,” you say and lean up to kiss his cheek.

“Congrats, sweetheart,” he winked at you and wandered off towards the dart board.

You turn to Bradley and find him grinning at you, and you weren’t able to smile back before he was leaning down and kissing you. “I love you,” he mumbles once he pulls away.

“I love you,” you say back and look down at the bar. “Hey, this is where we met. In this exact spot.”

Bradley, too, looked down and his smile only grew. “Would you look at that,” he said as he set his empty beer down before taking your half full one from your hand. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest, his hand finding yours and his thumb turning your ring again. “Look where we are now. We’re getting married. We belong together, pretty girl.”

“Took you long enough to realize it,” you teased and he just shook his head before kissing you again.

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick

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justreadingthings · 10 days

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No my god I love him

I Can Fix That — Bradley Bradshaw x Reader One Shot

It's been awhile...hasn't it? Summary: Bradley has a new neighbor, and he's more than willing to come to her rescue on more than one occasion.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff Also....yes the title is a reference to Holes :)

The first time Bradley Bradshaw comes to your rescue is on moving day.

The heat was unforgiving, your UHaul was filled to the brim, and you were beginning to doubt that you could handle moving all on your own. With an aching back and a scowl, you begin to pull on the side of the loveseat that you had somehow managed to lug into the UHaul just hours before. Panic struck your eyes as you realized it was about to topple over directly on top of you. "Woah, woah, woah," You hear a gruff voice say as a muscular arm makes its way into you peripheral vision. The love seat levels out, and you turn your head to thank your hero.

Deep, honey colored brown eyes, soft and warm distract you for a moment. "Thank you," You say, voice soft, as you realize just how close the handsome stranger is standing to you.

A deep chuckle makes its way out of his mouth as he smiles, "No worries. No one should die by the hands of a sofa." Over the course of the next hour, Bradley, as you've come to learn his name, helps you unpack your UHaul. You try not to get distracted by his gentle coaching, "Just a bit to the left, you got it. Nice, just a bit further." Your mind wanders to thoughts of Bradley wrapped in your sheets, instructing you this way and that. Your cheeks warm, and you're grateful of the excuse of manual labor as the cause.

Sweat drips from both of your bodies in the San Diego heat as you stand back with your hands on your hips. Bradley expertly pulls the sliding door down on the back of the rental truck, and you admire his back muscles as they ripple against the his shirt.

"I cannot thank you enough," You say, daring a glance at him. His biceps glisten under his black t-shirt, and you're momentarily entranced by him.

"Don't mention it," He says turning to face you with a ruffled brow, "This is a lot for one person to handle. Why didn't anyone offer to help you?"

Your smile falls slightly as you remember the cause for your move. Your break up. It was unexpected, to say the least. You walked in on your boyfriend of four years with his "work friend," tangled in the sheets of your four post bed. The bed you had picked out together at a flea market, and the one you left behind despite your love for the aesthetic. It was ruined now.

"Let's just say I was in a rush to move," You supply vaguely, and Bradley nods his head, unbothered.

"Well, if you need anything, just come find me, I'm in 24B."

"Thank you Bradley," you say, and he smiles softly, raising his hand for a wave, and heading back into the building.

_____ The second time Bradley comes to your rescue is after you forget your keys to the main apartment building. Why had you decided to take your trash out in a torrential downpour? You scowl, picturing vividly your keys hanging on the key rack. Inside your unit. Leaving you stranded and your clothes seeping through.

You try to buzz your neighbors, truly anyone, to let you in. But following a notice from the building warning against letting in non-residents, you weren't surprised when your buzzes went unanswered.

"Fuck," You say, trying to press your self to the side of the building, the small overhang not providing much relief from the wind and rain. Your white t-shirt was fully soaked through, and there was a 99% chance you resembled a drowned cat.

As if your luck couldn't get any worse, you see a familiar Bronco pull into the parking lot, and you shut your eyes in defeat. Of course your hot neighbor had to once again come to your rescue.

You knees nearly buckle as you see him, dressed in what looks like a flight suit making his way to you, a slight jog in his step as he dodges raindrops.

"Locked out?" He smiles, fishing quickly for his keys.

"Nope, just enjoying the storm," You say with a playful sarcasm.

He chuckles and unlocks the door, motioning for you to go in before him.

"Thank you," You turn to him while collecting your sopping wet hair over one shoulder and quickly making your way into the dry lobby. "Hey," You say, taking in his full appearance, "I didn't realize you were in the service. Guess that explains why you're so helpful all the time." Bradley smiles, "Yes ma'am," God, that sent a shock straight to your core, "Naval aviator at your service." Now that...made him even hotter.

"Very impressive," You nod your head approvingly, "Although, it's nothing compared to a work-from-home graphic designer. I've had life or death moments with Photoshop like you wouldn't believe." Were you...flirting? And was he...kinda into it? "Oh," he clutches at his chest, "the agony, I'm sure." The two of you walk towards the elevator and he once again motions for you to step in first.

"Are you also locked out of your apartment?" He asks, scratching at his neck, and you try not to get distracted by his bicep, "You're welcome to come hangout while you wait for a locksmith." "Luckily I left my door unlocked," You say before you can even catch the words coming out of your mouth.

He nods, and looks down.

Fuck. You had an in. You could've been in his space, with him and you blew it. "But thank you for the —" the elevator doors open quickly and you realize you're on your floor, "offer Bradley. I appreciate it!" He smiles with a nod, and you exit the elevator, turning to see his eyes once more and his lips quirk up in a smile as the doors close.

______

The third time Bradley Bradshaw comes to your rescue is when your oven is, quite literally, on fire. You intended on baking Bradley some thank you brownies (and okay, it was also a ploy to see him again), but it turned into a complete disaster. Somehow you didn't notice the crack at the bottom of your glass baking dish, and brownie batter dripped onto the bottom of the oven, causing smoke and eventually flames.

"Jesus Christ!" You let out an exasperated cry as your fire alarm starts buzzing, smoke starts to fill your apartment, and you throw open your door to find the nearest fire extinguisher.

You're stunned to see an equally surprised looking Bradley outside your door.

"What are you doing here?" You say, not impolitely, but given your frazzled state, you instantly feel paranoid about your outburst. "I was coming by to see if you happened to have any eggs to spare, but I can see you have bigger issues to deal with," He smirks at you and pushes past you to assess the damage. Smoke is quickly filling your small kitchen and you cough as you just point mutely to the source.

Bradley reaches up to disable the fire alarm, and turns the oven off before asking, "Do you have any baking soda?" You quickly throw open the fridge and hand it to him. He calmly opens the oven, dumps the baking soda on the flames, and you watch in awe as they begin to simmer.

"What — how? Baking soda?" You stammer, words failing you completely.

He chuckles, "My mom was a terrible cook. I learned how to put out an oven fire at a young age. Baking soda kills the oxygen, and the fire with it." You laugh nodding, "Well, that's good to know. Those were...supposed to be for you." You admit, pointing to the sad-looking, burned brownies.

"For me?" He smiles softly, and opens your apartment window to let out the smoke.

"Yeah well," You say, fanning out the smoke with a dish towel, "You came to my rescue more than once over the past few weeks, and now I guess I owe you more than brownies." You motion for him to join you in your smoke-free living room and he follows obediently. "How about dinner?" He says, a smile once again on his face as he leaned his beautiful body against the door way.

You blush instantly. Dinner? Your heart rate races as you return a shy smile. "Dinner sounds nice."

He lets out a chuckle, "For what it's worth, I'd put out weekly oven fires if it meant I could make you blush like that." "Stop it," You say, grabbing at your flaming cheeks. "Oh, did still need those eggs?" You turn to go back into the kitchen and recover from your embarrassment. Bradley grabs your arm softly and turns you to face him, "I never needed eggs. Just needed an excuse to visit my favorite neighbor." __________________________________________________

IM ALIVE.

Helpful neighbor Bradley just hits different.

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick

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justreadingthings · 11 days

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Dilf Rooster? Sign me the hell up! This is so sweet and precious and wonderful and spicy and altogether perfect 😚🩷

Life’s A Beach | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Single Dad!Bradley x Reader

This is the second installment of my single dad Bradley miniseries | part one | library blog

Summary: A few weeks have passed since meeting Bradley and Caroline, and what better way to spend time with the adorable father-daughter duo again than a day at the beach?

WC: 6K

Warnings: all of my works are 18+ minors DNI, shirtlessbradleyshirtlessbradleyshirtlessbradley, reader wears a bikini but there are no descriptions of body size/shape, mentions of food/eating, mutual pining, like one tiny mention of smut towards the end if you squint, I don’t really think there’s much else this is literally just straight up fluff, dilf Bradley just being the absolute sweetest, this part is much longer than the first bc I already had it written and then couldn’t help myself from adding almost 3k words while editing oops, once again I suck at titles and summaries :)

a/n: the header for this chapter was my first attempt at making a mood board, I hope y’all like it :) I love Dadley Dadshaw™️ and little Caroline so much, I couldn’t stop smiling while writing this chapter of pure fluff! If you enjoy it, please comment/reblog feedback is always appreciated. Thank you for reading! <3

•

You’re checking yourself in the mirror for probably the twentieth time when your phone buzzes with a text alerting you that Bradley is outside. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time this morning trying on countless swimsuits in an attempt to find the perfect one.

It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon and with Bradley having the day off, and Caroline done with school for the weekend, he’d invited you to join them for a day at the beach. Since meeting them at the mall a few weeks ago when you’d helped reunite the father-daughter duo after the little girl had gotten lost, you’d maintained pretty regular communication.

The two of you had been texting almost daily, chatting about your days and getting to know each other a little better, and you were delighted to find out that Bradley did not, in fact, have a wife. He’d send you silly pictures of him and Caroline that never failed to make you smile even after a shitty day, and left you wondering how someone could still be so attractive while making the stupidest faces.

He told you a bit about his job — as not just a pilot like his daughter had told you when you met, but a fighter pilot, a naval aviator — and you told him about yours. You talked about your respective hobbies, favorite movies and your tastes in music among other things. Anything and everything that had come to mind, really.

Talking to Bradley was always easy. And there was definitely a bit of flirting. Okay, maybe a lot of flirting.

You’d also talk to Caroline too. She and Bradley had FaceTimed you a few times over the weeks and she’d update you all about how she was enjoying preschool so far, telling you that her daddy cried when he dropped her off on her first day — though, Bradley insists that he didn't — and about the new friends she’s made, before always asking when she’d get to see you again. You’d promised her, soon.

You’ve been pretty swamped with work, but you’re excited — if not a little anxious — to see them again. Though you hadn’t gotten another chance to see Bradley in person since that first day at the mall, your crush on him had grown exponentially. He was funny, charming, an amazing father to the sweetest little girl, and not to mention incredibly good looking.

Even through an iPhone camera, Bradley always looked so effortlessly gorgeous, his boyish smile and pretty eyes never failing to give you butterflies. You’d have to actively try not to swoon all the times he’d called you ‘sweetheart’ or said you looked pretty over FaceTime.

You could tell the mustached man liked you too, if his shameless flirting was anything to go by. He was too charming for his own good and he never seemed to fail to paint a blush on your cheeks. So, you want to make sure you look good when you join him and his daughter at the beach today.

You’d settled on a black bikini, the longline triangle top big enough to cover you up with enough cleavage to still be sexy, and the bottoms a little high waisted, the side strings pulled up high on your hips to accentuate your curves. You’d let your hair fall loose and flowing, and put on a light dusting of makeup.

After receiving Bradley’s text, you quickly throw on a matching black cover-up that ties at the front, your favorite pair of shorts and some flip flops, grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

Bradley’s waiting for you, leaned up against the side of his classic blue Bronco in a white and baby blue floral Hawaiian shirt — which you’ve learned over the last few weeks that he seems to own quite an array of, a pair of dark gray swim trunks that show off his muscular calves, and a pair of aviators shielding his eyes from the early afternoon sun.

His tanned features only seem to glow in the bright light of the sun, and as you watch Bradley’s face light up with a grin when he sees you, sandy curls blowing in the slight breeze, you have to clench your teeth to keep your jaw from dropping. God, he’s gorgeous.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

Bradley pulls you into a hug as soon as you reach him, and you happily wrap your arms around him. Inhaling his delicious scent and relishing in his warmth as you tell him that you’re doing good, before asking how he’s been too.

“I’ve been good, thanks. You look beautiful.” Bradley compliments you with a growing smirk once he releases you. You’re going to have to get used to the blush that seems to permanently reside over your cheeks whenever you are in his presence.

“You look– good too…” You trail off shyly, lips lifting into a sheepish grin as you push back some strands of hair that had blown in your face from the breeze, looking down at your sandal-clad feet.

Flirting with Bradley was much easier over text. You’re just thankful that his eyes are currently covered by his sunglasses, unsure if you’d be able to handle his deep, honeyed gaze on you right now without your knees buckling.

Bradley chuckles at your shyness, he loves how easily he can make you flush.

“Come on, I know someone is very excited to see you.” He places a gentle hand at the small of your back and leads you to the passenger side of the Bronco, opening the door for you. Your skin tingles with warmth where his hand had touched you as you climb into the passenger seat and Bradley closes the door for you.

Immediately upon entering the truck, you’re met with a high-pitched yell of your name. You turn around to see Caroline, all tucked into her car seat, sandy curls tied up in pigtails, and a tiny pair of aviator sunglasses that match her dad’s over her eyes. She really is Bradley's mini-me and you don’t think she could get any cuter.

“Hey, sweet pea!” She’d told you when you called her that on one of your FaceTime calls that that was her favorite nickname because peas are her favorite vegetable.

“You ready for a beach day?” You inquire happily, to which Caroline replies with a toothy grin and excited squeals of affirmation. She lifts her little aviators up onto the top of her head as she talks excitedly to you, while Bradley chuckles and begins to drive.

The two of you spend the entire drive to the beach chatting animatedly, Bradley chiming in here and there, but mostly just enjoying listening to the way you happily field the kind of questions and roundabout rambling that can only come from a four-year old.

He swears that his heart is going to explode out of his chest seeing how great you are with his daughter. How much Caroline already seems to love you, and how much you seem to love her too.

***

Upon arriving at the beach and finding a spot for the Bronco in the moderately crowded lot, Bradley quickly leaps out of the driver’s side to open your door for you, eliciting a bashful smile and quiet ‘thanks’ from you as he takes your hand in his much larger one to help you down.

When your feet are safely on the ground and he’s closed the door behind you, Bradley makes his way to the back door to help Caroline — who is bouncing her little legs and practically vibrating with excitement – out of her car seat.

The three of you make your way up to the beach, Bradley carrying a large cooler that he procured from the trunk. And while you try your hardest to not drool over his impressive arms, you hold a large tote that’s filled to the brim with a blanket, towels, Caroline’s countless beach toys, and an umbrella sticking out of the top in one hand, and Caroline’s smaller hand in your free one.

It’s only a short walk, and the second your feet touch the sand, Caroline’s little hand releases yours as she bounds ahead of you and her father in search of a good spot to set up.

Bradley lets out an exasperated sigh and lifts up his sunglasses, sharp eyes trained ahead to follow his daughter’s bouncing pigtails as she runs along the busy beach. “God, she’s really gotta stop doing that.”

Holding back a giggle — because you know firsthand that Caroline wandering off is a fairly common occurrence — you look up at Bradley with a sympathetic pout.

“Yeah, but if she didn’t do that, you never would’ve met me.” You shrug matter-of-factly, lips tugging up at the corner on their own accord.

Bradley can’t help but chuckle at that.

“I guess that’s true,” the playful smirk growing on your face draws a matching one onto his lips. “But, sooner or later, she’s gonna give her old man a heart attack.”

You join him in his laughter as you continue walking toward the empty spot where you see Caroline has stopped, bouncing on her feet and waiting for the two of you with an adorable toothy grin.

“You’re not that old.” With a playful roll of your eyes, you lightly smack his shoulder.

Once everything is set up – the blanket laid out along the sand and held down at the corners by the heavy cooler and the tote, the large beach umbrella creating a nice bit of shade, and Caroline’s various toys already scattered about — Bradley kicks off his flip flops and reaches up to begin unbuttoning his Hawaiian shirt. Dropping his aviators onto the blanket along with it, leaving him in just his dark gray swim shorts with his torso bare.

Whoa. You thought he was hot with his clothes on, but you nearly went into shock upon seeing him without them. You knew Bradley was obviously in shape — you could see that even under the Hawaiian shirts and soft looking Navy tees he always wore over Facetime – but you didn’t know he was that muscular.

All golden skin and rippling muscles, broad shoulders and strong arms. Almost ridiculously toned abs and thick thighs leading down to shapely legs, Bradley looked like he was sculpted by the gods. Though he was a father, he certainly did not have a ‘dad bod’. You guessed that his elite naval training must be to thank for that.

In the hopes of distracting yourself — and to stop yourself from frothing at the mouth over Bradley’s physique, you decide to focus on applying the sunscreen that you also found in Bradley’s beach bag. You remove your cover-up and shimmy out of your shorts, already enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun blanketing the newly exposed skin.

Holy shit, Bradley has to stop himself from saying out loud as he catches a view of you in your bikini.

The way that the black fabric fits your body perfectly, just a hint of your plush breasts visible in the triangle top and the high-cut bottoms with little strings that cinch in at your waist accentuating your curves in all the right places, has Bradley’s heart beating faster and his cheeks heating up with a flush that he knows is not just a product of the bright sun.

He feels like he might start drooling at any moment as he takes in the sight of your skin – so much skin, and he wants to know if it would feel as soft as it looks, under his fingertips.

He watches in awe as you begin to apply your sunscreen, delicate hands smoothing over planes of skin, and Bradley wishes he could replace them with his own. He needs to stop ogling you before his swim trunks begin to show the evidence of just how much you’re affecting him.

When you’re finished lathering yourself in sunscreen, Bradley’s heart starts clenching in his chest for a whole different reason as you offer to help Caroline apply hers. She accepts your offer without hesitation, head nodding a mile a minute and that big grin that never fails to make Bradley’s heart melt on her sweet little face, and he swears she’s never taken to anyone — not even the Dagger Squad — so quickly.

He gazes on, eyes with wide adoration as you kneel down to meet his daughter’s height, gently – and oh so patiently – rubbing the cream onto the baby-soft skin of her arms and legs as she jumps and squirms around, her golden brown curls bouncing, the impatient four-year old ready to take off like a tornado down the beach.

Bradley can’t help but admire the sweet smile that overtakes your face and your soft laugh as Caroline scrunches up her adorable little button nose while you apply the sunscreen to her face, and he swears his heart grows three times its size when he hears the giggles bubbling out of his little girl’s mouth as you playfully pinch her nose and let her know that you’re done.

“What do we say, Caroline?” Bradley asks his daughter before she has a chance to run off in her excitement. His tone is slightly stern and his hands are on his hips, though a smirk is tugging at the corner of his lips as he squints against the bright sun to look at his daughter who returns his gaze with a wide-eyed, almost caught-out expression.

“Thank you!” Caroline turns back to you and wraps her arms around your neck in a quick hug that makes your heart melt.

Before you can hug her back, she races over to her dad and hugs her arms around his hips, her little head resting on his taut belly as she looks up at him with those big, brown puppy dog eyes that rival his own.

“Can we go in the ocean, Daddy?”

When Bradley lovingly strokes the crown of her head and grins down at her, you swear you could cry from how adorable the two of them are. “Of course we can, Bug.”

Then, Bradley lifts his little girl off the sand – and she looks so tiny in his arms – and you can’t help but giggle at the two of them as he leans down to blow raspberries on Caroline’s tummy through the fabric of her ruffly lilac bathing suit, high-pitched squeals and shrieking giggles leaving her as she flails in his hold, breathlessly yelling, “Daddy, stop!” while he continues to tickle her.

“Alright, alright. I’m done.” Bradley chuckles, only stopping when one of Caroline’s flailing limbs nearly hits him in the face. He presses a kiss to one of her flushed cheeks, and then the two of them are looking at you with matching grins.

“You comin’, sweetheart?” The term of endearment makes your heart flutter. You glance between the two of them, holding back a laugh at the four-year old that’s buzzing with excitement in her father’s arms.

“I think I’m just gonna relax here for a bit and soak up some sun, but you two go ahead!”

Bradley looks down to where you sit on the beach blanket with an appraising look as you smile at the two of them, a hand hovering above your squinting eyes to shield them from the sun, and you could swear you catch his eyes trailing down the line of your body for just a second before returning to yours. “You sure?”

“Yeah, you two go! Enjoy some father-daughter time.” You nod, a pretty smile on your face, and the playful wink you send his daughter has Bradley’s swim trunks feeling the slightest bit tighter again. Yeah, maybe a few minutes apart from you would do him some good.

Little does Bradley know, your reasoning for staying back is similar to his for not arguing with that. You need a moment to yourself to refrain from doing something stupid – like trying to lick his abs or climb him like a tree – if you have to be up close to him and his gorgeous body for one more second.

You relax onto the blanket, your face hidden under the shade of the umbrella as you watch Bradley take off toward the ocean with Caroline still in his arms, the little girl giggling the whole way there.

You watch on adoringly as Bradley plays with his daughter, chasing her around on the wet sand and scooping her up in his strong arms, spinning her around and dunking her partially into the water. The two of them run through the waves, splashing each other, all smiles and laughs the entire time.

In just the brief time that you’ve known them, it’s very easy to see that Bradley’s daughter is his whole world.

When they return a while later, Caroline sprints ahead of her dad to reach you on the blanket where you’re already waiting with a smile to hand her her beach towel that has cute little frogs printed all over it.

Bradley reaches the two of you a few moments later and your arm freezes mid-air as you reach up to hand him a towel as well, too distracted to even ogle over his glistening, wet skin as you notice the red shade that’s beginning to take over the skin of his cheeks and his broad shoulders.

“Bradley, you’re all red! Did you put on any sunscreen?” You question with a breathy laugh, though Bradley can see the concern in your eyes as he takes the towel from your outstretched hand and begins to dry the water droplets on his tanned skin.

Before he can respond that he had, Caroline chimes in. “Daddy says he burns if he even looks at the sun!” She exclaims through her giggles.

You laugh along with her for a moment before fixing him with that cute, sympathetic pout again that makes Bradley’s heart flutter in his chest.

Before he knows it, you’re reaching into the beach bag for the tube of sunscreen and standing to be closer to his height – though he’s still got quite a few inches on you.

“Here, let me-” You squeeze some of the sunscreen out onto your fingers, and then your delicate hands are working the cream into the skin of Bradley’s face and his cheeks are, again, warming even more and not because of the sun.

His skin tingles where your light touch had been, and Bradley thanks whatever gods are out there that Caroline jumps in and insists that you build a sandcastle with her before you get a chance to start working the sunscreen onto his shoulders. He doesn’t know that he could handle you touching him any longer without saying or doing something stupid.

“Thanks, sweetheart. I think I can take it from here.” Bradley’s tone is flirty as he holds a hand out for the tube of sunblock, fingers grazing yours, and his lips turn up in a smirk at the flush developing on your own cheeks as you nod back at him. And he can’t suppress the quiet chuckle at the stumble in your steps as you make your way back over to Caroline to get to work on your sandcastle.

After applying the sunscreen to his own shoulders, Bradley sits down in the sand to join you and his daughter.

“Daddy! We’re building the world’s biggest sandcastle!” Caroline exclaims, filling up her bucket with sand. “It’s gonna be bigger than you!”

Bradley lets out a throaty laugh, “Yeah, I’ll bet!” He looks to you and the two of you grin at each other conspiratorially. “Can I help?”

Once the three of you have built – and demolished, a la Caroline jumping straight onto it – the “biggest sandcastle she’s ever seen”, she and Bradley convince you to get in the water with them.

You all play a game of tag in the shallows, Bradley stopping to lift his daughter out of the water every so often when there was a large wave, before you and Caroline decide to gang up on Bradley to splash him with salty seawater until he’s soaked and looking at the two of you with a pout that you want to kiss right off of his lips.

Then, Bradley’s pout quickly morphs into a mischief-filled grin, a matching one growing on his daughter’s face as you look between them, the two of them seeming to have a sort of silent conversation.

“What are you-” Before you can finish asking the question, you let out a yelp as a strong pair of arms wraps around your waist and lifts you into the air, both Bradley and Caroline laughing like hyenas as the four-year old begins splashing you with water, and you can’t help but laugh along with them as you squirm under Bradley’s very strong grip.

All too soon, Bradley’s arms are releasing you, but he keeps a steadying hand on your waist as he settles you back onto your feet. His whiskey-hued eyes peering into yours and you can only gaze back, left a bit breathless, your skin set alight with butterflies where his large palm had been even when he’s no longer touching you.

“Daddy, I’m hungry!” Caroline announces, tension in the air dissipating as she jumps up and down between the two of you, tugging on the hem of her dad’s swim trunks.

You can breathe again as Bradley chuckles at her and finally shifts his gaze away from you, pushing back some of the wet curls that are stuck to her forehead. “Yeah, me too. Lead the way, Bug.”

The three of you make your way back up to your little setup on the beach, the little girl tugging you along with a hand wrapped in yours.

Bradley produces a few little packs of apple slices and the three sandwiches he’d packed earlier that morning from the cooler, peanut butter and jelly – Caroline’s favorite, as you’ve learned over your many facetime calls with the father-daughter duo and giggled at the four-year old’s jelly-covered face, where you let them know they were one of your favorites too.

“Bon appetit.” Bradley chuckles, holding out one of the plastic wrapped, diagonally cut sandwiches to you, a slightly sheepish smile coming over his mustached lips. “I know it’s not much, but-”

You cut him off with a shake of your head before he can finish his statement, and meet him with a sincere grin. “It’s perfect.”

He hands Caroline the one sandwich that has the crusts cut off and a packet of apple slices, and then pulls out an ice cold bottle of water for each of you, and a juicebox for his daughter.

While Caroline sweetly asks you to put the straw into her juicebox for her, Bradley pulls out one last thing from the cooler that has your heart leaping in your chest when you turn to notice him place something down in front of you.

A bottle of your favorite iced tea. Something you’d never explicitly mentioned to him, but that Bradley had noticed you always seemed to be drinking on your video calls with them. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet you feel like you could cry at the sweetness of it.

Bradley’s chest swells with pride as you pin him with a bright smile, eyes full of adoration. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” Bradley sends you a wink that sends your heart into overdrive as he takes a bite out of his sandwich.

Bradley admires the two of you as he sits and eats his PB&J. His daughter is once again talking at you a mile a minute in that adorable, roundabout way that only little kids do as you follow along enthusiastically with a smile, you gently wiping jelly from Caroline’s face with a wet napkin and making sure that she drinks her water when you notice her cheeks getting a bit flushed.

“Just like her daddy.” He listens to you tell Caroline with a playful shake of your head, and the wink you send in his direction has Bradley swearing internally that he’s going to die, and he can’t help but think that he’d be more than happy to do this all the time.

After spending a while longer on the beach – you and Bradley sat on the large blanket chatting and watching Caroline play and build her own little castles with her pail and shovel, the three of you jumping in the water one more time, and you hiding your snickers behind your hand while Bradley tries to convince Caroline that it is not a good idea to bury him in the sand – the sun is just beginning to set.

And though he doesn’t want this day to end, Bradley decides it’s time to head home when he notices his four-year old rubbing her eyes and starting to yawn every couple of minutes.

You help him pack everything up and then the three of you make the trek back to the car, Caroline half asleep on her dad’s broad shoulders, while you walk close by Bradley’s side in a peaceful silence.

Caroline falls asleep almost instantly once Bradley gets her settled into the Bronco in her car seat, and you can’t help but coo at the adorable little girl when you turn back to look at her from the passenger seat.

The drive back to your apartment is a peaceful one, the sun still setting and bathing everything it touches in its dying golden glow — including Bradley — and you find it hard not to stare at his exquisite side profile as he bops his head along to the classic songs that play quietly from the radio as the two of you chat idly, low enough to not wake up the sleeping little girl in the backseat.

When the Bronco comes to a stop in front of your apartment, the sky has almost fully darkened and neither you or Bradley move for a long few moments, neither one of you really wanting to say goodbye, not quite ready for this perfect day to end yet.

Bradley clears his throat and turns his gaze to you with that boyish, mustached grin that sends butterflies coursing through your system and the smile you meet him with is an easy one.

“Thank you for coming today,” Bradley’s voice is quiet, raspy and deep and heat pools in your tummy as he continues to speak. “Caroline had a blast. She really likes you.”

His statement has you glancing back at the sleepy four-year old and beaming with adoration when you turn back to reply, “I really like her too. And, I had a great time. Thanks for inviting me.”

Bradley’s smile turns more playful as he nods his head, his honey brown eyes peering deep into your own as he quietly speaks again. “I really like you too.”

With the pulsing in your ears from your heart practically beating out of your chest, it takes you a few long seconds to reply and all you can manage to get out is a whispered “Yeah, me too…”

Your voice trails off and and your smile turns sheepish, gaze tilted down toward your lap to hide the obvious flush you know is blooming on your cheeks.

Bradley’s grin only broadens, eyes full of mirth at your sudden shyness.

“Can I walk you to your door?” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine and you don’t really trust yours to be steady with him looking at you like that, so you simply nod in response.

After Bradley checks behind him to see that his daughter is still sleeping soundly in the backseat, he unbuckles his seatbelt and quietly hops out of the Bronco. He quickly makes his way over to the passenger side to open the door for you and help you down from his truck.

With one last look through the window at Caroline, Bradley locks up the Bronco and you begin the short walk to your door. The two of you are trailing along the concrete path slowly, Bradley’s palm hovering at the small of your back to guide you and warming your skin through the thin fabric of your cover-up.

You hesitate when you reach your front door, leaning your back against the hardwood to face Bradley, still not quite ready to cut your time with him short.

Peering up at him through your lashes, you thank Bradley before letting him know again, “I really had a great time today.”

“Yeah, me too, sweetheart.” You could swear he’s really trying to kill you every time he uses that nickname. “We should definitely do this again sometime.”

Your voices are both still quiet, as if to not disturb the peaceful, but intense atmosphere that’s built around the two of you.

“Yes, we should.” You nod your head, bottom lip caught between your teeth as Bradley’s eyes peers into yours, pools of molten honey searching your expression.

Whatever he’s looking for, he seems to find it. One of his big hands reaches up to cup your cheek, large palm splaying across the smooth skin and long fingers reaching into your hair, and he loves the way you instantly lean into his warm touch.

Bradley just admires you for a long moment, his heavy gaze trailing down from your pretty eyes to your plush lips, further to where your chest is rapidly rising up and down under your sheer cover-up as your breath quickens, and then back up again to see the look of want in your dilated eyes.

When he can no longer take the tension that’s been building up between you all day, Bradley takes a step closer, leaving only a few inches between the two of you. He leans down and the hand on your cheek guides your lips up to meet his in a kiss that’s sweet, but firm, and all-consuming.

Your lips move softly against his, one of your hands lifting up to wrap around the wrist of his hand that still cups your face. His pulse under your fingertips grounding you as you sigh into the kiss, and you think you could get lost in him.

His lips, gentle and languid as they press against your own, the hairs of his mustache tickling your skin, and the comforting scent of him surrounding you — the spicy cologne that still lingers on his clothes, a hint of sweat mixed with the fresh, beachy scent from a day spent on the sand and sea, and something that’s just Bradley.

When Bradley deepens the kiss, lips moving more fervently against your own, your resulting whimper has him crowding you against the door, no longer an inch of space left between your bodies as his broad chest presses against yours, his free hand coming to grip at your waist.

Bradley’s tongue trails the seam of your lips, begging for entrance that you grant him without resistance, swallowing his deep groan as your free hand reaches up to his hair. Your fingers tangle into the strands, his waves extra defined from the salty sea water, fluffy from the beach and now, you.

As your tongue glides along with his, Bradley’s strong hands now both squeeze at your waist, trailing down your sides until they reach the backs of your thighs. He effortlessly lifts you into his strong arms, never breaking the kiss, and your legs wrap around his waist as the weight of his body presses you harder into your front door.

Things continue on like this — for minutes or hours, you’re not quite sure as you completely lose yourself in the feeling of Bradley’s kiss — only getting deeper, hungrier, more frenzied. Your lips never parting from Bradley’s despite the burning that’s beginning to grow in your lungs, thighs clenching around his hips in search of even a hint of friction to curb the arousal that’s building in your core.

Bradley finally pulls away when the lack of oxygen gets to be too much. Your lips chase his, the little whimper you send him when his mouth is no longer on yours, going straight to his cock that’s pressed against your hip, straining against his already-tight swim trunks, and his head is spinning from the way your lips trail down to press gentle kisses to his jaw.

He wishes he could take you inside your apartment — to your bed, and he would have, but it’s then that he remembers his four year-old daughter is asleep in the backseat of his car.

Bradley’s forehead presses against your own and he breathes in deep before exhaling a deep sigh to steady himself. After pressing one last peck to your lips, he sets your feet back down on the ground. He takes a step back to look at you, hands hesitating to leave your waist as he doesn’t want to stop touching you yet.

Your expression is dazed, lips are swollen and eyes blown wide, your heaving chest matching his own as you take the oxygen back into your lungs, and Bradley can’t help but pull you in one last time with a hand on the back of your neck to kiss you breathless — again.

When he pulls away this time, Bradley hardly gives himself a moment to catch his breath before he pants out, “Can I please take you on a date?”

You nod your head near-frantically and you laugh just as breathlessly. “I was starting to think you’d never ask.”

Bradley chuckles, gazing down at you in adoration, his thumb that reaches up to caress your cheek and his next words draw a blush to your cheeks.

“Believe me, I’ve wanted to for weeks. Since the first day that we met you.”

You turn your head to press a sweet kiss to Bradley’s thumb.

“You could have. I definitely would’ve said yes.” You reply with a bashful smile.

“Yeah, I’m a bit off my game. I haven’t really done this in a while if I’m being honest.” Bradley admits a little sheepishly and you nod along, encouraging him to continue.

“I haven’t dated much since Caroline. She’s kinda become my whole world.” He scratches the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward and hoping you don’t think that’s pathetic.

You take his hand in yours and smile at Bradley, eyes shining bright in what can only be described as admiration.

“You’re an amazing father, Bradley. You're so dedicated to Caroline and that’s one of the things I love most about you.”

You give his hand a gentle squeeze as you gaze up at him, leaning up on your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his sun-reddened cheek. “And I definitely want to go out with you.”

“Thank god.” The pair of you let out relieved laughs at his words. Bradley’s hands reach out for your waist once again. “Come here.”

Bradley leaves you with one more passionate kiss that ends way too quickly for either of your liking and a ‘Goodnight, sweetheart’ that paints a blush on your cheeks.

After making sure that you’re safely inside your apartment, Bradley strides back to the Bronco, unable to wipe the grin from his lips. With a glance in the rearview mirror at his baby girl still sound asleep in her car seat, he begins the short journey back to their home, a goofy smile on his face for the entirety of the drive as he thinks about how he’s going to take you on the perfect date.

•

Thank you for reading! x

Don't forget to comment/reblog if you enjoyed, feedback is always appreciated! I've got one more part planned for this little series, it's not written yet but I hope to get it out to you guys soon <3

tag list: @wkndwlff @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91 @memoriesat30 @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 @foreverrandomwritings @lt-spork @princess76179 @gigisimsonmars @kidd3ath @averyhotchner @sammyrenae68 @tv-fanatic18 @one-sweet-gubler @kmc1989 @avengersfan25 @fictionalmenloversblog @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @praline357 @girlsclub2004 @misshoneypaper @diorrfairy

also tagging some people who reblogged/commented on part one: @bitter-post-millennial @rhettabbotts @hangmanssunnies @milestomaverick @becks-things @indynerdgirl @perfectprettypisces @annathesillyfriend @southpawbitch @colourfulsuitwonderland @wildxwidow @roger-that-cap @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @valhallaas @mayari-tala @teacupsandtopgun @dorothychxca @fangirlvoice @jjenjoysthings @kmc1989 @rosiahills22 @je-suis-prest-rachel

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #dilf

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justreadingthings · 11 days

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That was an incredibly deserved overboard! Prince Bradshaw- I mean, Rooster Charming- I mean…..Bradley is so sweet and protective and I love it 🥰

"Whiskey sour? Classy." - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

[TW: insults, harassment, explicit language]

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀 || TOPGUN-inspired playlist

SUMMARY: When new aviators arrive at the base, Rooster invites you to hang out with the Dagger Crew and the freshmen. One of the newcomers gets in over his head and Rooster gladly accepts the honour of bringing him down a peg: no one gets to talk trash to the eventual Mrs. Bradshaw.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2k

"Hey, Bradshaw, where'd you leave wifey?" Hangman asked.

Although the group was disillusioned about the seriousness of your relationship, the nickname came into existence only after they witnessed you nagging at Bradley for being irresponsible after he came back with Maverick. Truthfully, he liked how it sounded - for you to be called his wife.

The Hard Deck was booming with life, filled with twice as many people as it usually was. It was supposed to be a sort of welcoming party for the newcomers but mixed with the locals - it was simply Miramar showing off its essence, the brash young blood pumping the town's atmosphere with new, exciting energy.

"Should be here any moment. Maybe I'll tell her you missed her."

"Careful, she might just run to me."

Bradley was about to continue the friendly scuffle with Jake but Pete tapped him on his shoulder and pointed you out in the crowd by the bar:

"Found your missus, kid."

For a moment, the whole world stopped just so Rooster could admire the woman he had the highest honour of calling his. You were wearing a thin bodycon dress - the very same one he associated with long, sleepless nights and the plethora of beautiful sounds you could make. The light, sunny yellow colour looked lovely on you, bringing summer heat into the onlookers' hearts. You wore the same makeup you always did, your hairdo wasn't different either but for some reason, spotting you in the faraway crowd, Bradley felt the same way he did the first time he saw you. He remembered how embarrassingly nervous he was and how his mouth dried out when you stared at him with a smile. From that day on, his condition was only getting worse.

"Just don't drool," Phoenix warned him. The group laughed and Rooster was momentarily brought back to the present day. The sound of cue balls hitting one other resounded in his ears together with the very bar-like sounds of laughter, the click of glass and 80s hits playing on the jukebox.

The game of pool resumed but not for long:

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, there's an enemy on the front line," Maverick announced while vaguely pointing towards your direction. With furrowed eyebrows, Bradley turned around to see what Pete was talking about. There you were: standing awkwardly next to one of the newcomers who was leaning against the bar. In a way, he understood the interest in your beauty. To him, you always looked like a star but Bradley was far from objective - he did, after all, give you those dreamy, puppy eyes of a fool in love while you were wearing a stained hoodie with your university's logo, sleeping and drooling on the pillow. "He's going for the kill, the very classy chest check."

Clenching his jaw, Bradley passed his cue to Bob, who gladly accepted it. The game of pool was temporarily withheld as the Dagger Crew watched the ordeal unfold with great interest. Rooster stormed through the crowd towards you and Maverick set his beer down, getting ready for the approaching 'overboard' or a fistfight.

You've never seen the Hard Deck packed the way it was that night. All the khaki uniforms were blending into one, beige mob, giving a quite humorous impression that it was you who was dressed inappropriately for a night out at a bar. Somehow, it made you happy to see Hard Deck bursting with life - for once, Miramar wasn't just a military town at the end of the world. Squeezing through the beige crowd, you finally reached the counter, only to be greeted by Penny's wide smile.

"Good to see you, (Y/N). Prince Charming's been waiting for you." She vaguely pointed towards the laughing group of aviators playing pool with too many people. Among the sea of military uniforms, Bradley's Hawaiian shirt looked adorably out of place. Although he looked better in blue, that grey shirt he was wearing had to be your favourite - the very same he wore when you met him for the first time.

"Oh, come off it," you laughed. A flustered blush warmed up your face. The rouge on your cheeks slightly camouflaged the flush.

"Hey, I'm not the one calling you wifey."

For a moment, your eyes were glued to Rooster, watching him just having fun with his friends. There wasn't a day where you didn't praise the whim of the cosmos for making Bradley love you. Penny laughed seeing the buttery look on your face. Honestly, she found it quite adorable that years had gone by, the two of you had grown older and matured but the hopeless love of your younger days still stayed around and threatened to never abandon its post. Despite that, she was grateful she didn't have to witness you at the start of your relationship when lovers tend to be more embarrassing than should be humanly possible.

"He could make a ring out of spit and cheese puffs and I'd say yes in a heartbeat," you confessed. Truthfully, the idea of actually marrying him had been haunting you for a few weeks. Those wandering thoughts were always cut short when your imagination began painting you and Bradley as parents, suddenly flustered with the seriousness of the daydreams.

"Now, don't go around giving him stupid ideas." Although it was meant as a scolding, Penny's amused tone made her words sound not serious. "Just tell him. Anyway, what will you have? The usual?"

"You're a woman after my own heart, Penny."

"That I am, sweetheart. One whiskey sour coming right up."

"Thank you!" you called after her.

Penny barely turned around to prepare your drink and serve another round of beers, when someone approached you:

"Whiskey sour, huh? Classy." The man was, too, wearing the khaki uniform. He was leaning against the bar, trying to appear all suave and nonchalant; the position made the muscles in his toned arms even more accentuated and you just knew he did it on purpose.

"I guess you could say that," you answered with a disinterested shrug. It was, after all, only a drink: nothing to gatekeep or make a competition out of. Whatever one drinks, the hangover always tastes the same. "The first drink I ever had."

"Then it must've been quite recently, no?" he asked with a grin. "You sure you're old enough to be here, little lady?"

"That's a strange way to say I look young." An awkward chuckle left your lips. You just wanted to deviate the conversation from further going down the uneasy lane. "Zeus?" you read from the patch on his uniform. "Where'd that come from?"

"The real answer is that I got electrocuted in the academy." After his explanation, the man's gaze audaciously dropped to the deep cleavage of your dress. A cold shiver of discomfort run down your spine. "The cool answer is that I'm just great with the ladies."

To your own, deepening horror, his eyes remained below your chin as he spoke. Did he really think it would work on someone?, you asked yourself. Some more naive part of you believed he was oblivious to his inappropriate behaviour or maybe he was being creepy just for the shock factor.

"Can you... stop staring at my breasts?" you asked awkwardly after a longer while. Uneasiness was dripping from your words and, judging by the livid expression on Rooster's face, not only from them.

Zeus scoffed and his self-assured grin momentarily turned into a strange mixture of lewdness and mischievousness, making your skin crawl.

"Come on, you want me to stare, doll," he said in a low voice. Zeus licked his lips and you felt your whole body tense up. Although he hadn't touched you, his awful way of being made you feel dirty - and not the kind one can scrub off in a hot shower. "If you didn't, you would've covered up."

"What the hell, man," you heard yourself saying. The situation was so odd and awkward, that you had no idea how to act. Flustered at the unwanted attention, words were stuck in your throat. You were telling yourself to go, just leave the man as fast as you could but for some strange reason, you found yourself unable to move like a deer caught in the headlights; only at that moment, the figure of speech could be taken quite literally.

"I know you're just teasing me, sweetheart," Zeus confessed as if he was letting you in on a big secret. "But I prefer a straight game."

Zeus reached for your bare shoulder but someone stopped him. Rooster's fingers were wrapped so tightly around the man's wrist, that their skin turned white. The sight of the familiar Hawaiian shirt allowed you to take a deeper, only slightly calmer, breath. Maybe Penny was partially right: he was Prince Charming, except for the off days when he part-timed as Knight In Shining Armor.

"How about you fuck off from my wife," Bradley gritted through his teeth. His face was red and you were left doubtless that it was the only colour he was currently seeing. There was no doubt that if nature gifted him with just a little less self-control, Zeus would be getting his own jaw dislocated.

"Chill, man," Zeus chuckled awkwardly and tried to force his hand out of Rooster's iron grip. His effort was in vain, a wince of pain slowly making its way unto his face. However, even bad circulation to his hand couldn't keep his audacity out. "Not my fault you let your wife leave the house dressed like that, amigo. And not my fault the girl doesn't wear a ring."

"Well, it's your fault you're a dickhead."

Still clutching Zeus' wrist, Rooster forcefully pulled him away from you. Penny began ringing the bell behind the counter, visibly pleasant at the turn of events. The other clients cleared the way from the bar to the door, already starting to chant 'overboard'.

"Welcome to TOP GUN, pal," Maverick said while he and Rooster grabbed the man under his arms. Together, they began dragging him out of the bar as the regulars cheered them on. "Rule number one: Mrs. Bradshaw is to be respected at all times."

Soon after that life lesson, Zeus was literally thrown out of the Hard Deck and the front door closed in his face. Some of the guests laughed at the interesting turn of events but the general majority went back to their drinks, used to the particular culture of the beach bar.

All gloating and pleased with himself, Bradley made his way back to you, his hands sneaking around your waist without much thought.

"My wife?" you repeated with amusement. A bright smile quickly appeared on his face - he was growing more fond of that thought with each passing second, each mention of the, hopefully inevitable, possibility. "Don't remember marrying you just yet."

The anger he had been drowning in moments ago, was now nowhere to be seen and Bradley's face returned to its soft expression - a default for whenever you were around.

"Really?" he asked with theatrical confusion. His eyebrows even furrowed for a moment. "Must've been my dream then."

"You dream about me often?" you asked as a soft grin crept unto your face. Bradley was the type of man who would flirt with his girl even after having spent his entire life with her - always showing appreciation of the beyond favourable turn of events. Your fingers were mindlessly trailing the hem of his shirt.

"Anytime I can." Considering the gentle look in his eyes, it might just be true.

The laughter his words elicited from you was cut short as Bradley cradled your face and kissed you slowly. Some of the nearby guests started yelling 'bitter!', clearly believing Rooster and Maverick's slight embellishment of your relationship status.

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick

6K notes · View notes

justreadingthings · 11 days

Text

Oh…fuck.

Shit.

Damn.

As a newbie in the Bradley Bradshaw fan club, I can definitely say that you set my expectations high babe! Love this.

Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time.

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh.

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret.

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him.

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated.

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up.

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message.

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way.

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface.

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number.

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip.

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice.

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later.

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush.

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be.

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten.

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin.

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning.

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone.

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her.

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him.

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open.

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself.

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on.

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

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

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face.

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache.

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar.

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit.

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest.

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck.

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

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

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

3K notes · View notes

justreadingthings · 16 days

Text

I will SO be exploring this further at a later time.

Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge - Masterlist

If you’d like to join the challenge check out this post! Divider by @saradika-graphics 🤍

Debut 🦋

Fearless ✨

The Way I Loved You + Frankie Morales - @hellfire-state-of-mind

The Other Side Of The Door + Javier Peña - @trulybetty

Today Was A Fairytale + Javi Gutierrez - @starjedi86

Speak Now 💜

Enchanted to Meet You (Enchanted) - Din Djarin by @beskarandblasters

27 Seconds (Last Kiss) - Marcus Pike by @hellfire-state-of-mind

Red 🧣

Begin Again + Joel Miller - @sweetenerobert

Better Man - Javier Peña by @dancingtotuyo

1989 🗽

When we go crashing down (Style) - Dave York by @janaispunk

Out of the Woods + Din Djarin - @freelancearsonist

Wildest Dreams + Joel Miller - @planet-marz1

Worth It For Once (Slut!) - Frankie Morales by @burntheedges

Reputation 🐍

Delicate + Joel Miller - @noxturnalpascal

In shades of gray and candlelight (Getaway Car) - Marcus Pike by @freelancearsonist

Dress + Javier Peña - @notpetewentzx

Call It What You Want - Joel Miller - @beardedjoel

Lover 🏹

Cruel Summer - Dieter Bravo - @fhatbhabie

Paper Rings - Joel Miller by @whocaresstillthelouvre

False God + Ezra @xdaddysprincessxx

Folklore 🪩

The 1 + Dieter Bravo - @schnarfer

Cardigan - Joel Miller by @always-andromeda

Exile + Javi Gutierrez - @polaroidpascal

Clandestine (Illicit Affairs) - Mr. Ben by @hellfire-state-of-mind

Invisible String - Din Djarin by @saradika

Evermore 🍂

Champagne Problems + Frankie Morales or Javier Peña - @proxima-writes

No Body, No Crime - Tim Rockford by @theetherealbloom

Cowboy Like Me + Javier Peña - @beskarandblasters

Midnights 🌃

And I Lost You (Maroon) - Joel Miller by @lotusbxtch

Midnight Rain + Frankie Morales - @thirtysevenodddogs

Constellations in his eyes (High Infidelity) - Dave York by @janaispunk

Moodboards 🖼️

August + Joel Miller - @joelsgreenflannel

Invisible String + Din Djarin @joelsgreenflannel

64 notes · View notes

justreadingthings · 16 days

Text

Slut! is one of my favorite from the vault songs, and my my you did it Justice with this fic! Frankie is perfect, and I appreciate his restraint, but if I’m being honest I wouldn’t mind if he did go off on those assholes. Anyways, I’m gonna go to sleep and dream about what you put into my head! Thank you love 💖

Worth It For Once

Frankie Morales x f!reader | 18+ | ao3 chapter word count: 9.6k Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge, song: Slut!

summary: After months of the whispers, rude comments and snide glances from people around town, you’re fed up. You’re trying not to let them get to you, but it’s getting harder to shake it off. And then you meet Frankie Morales.

a/n: this is part of @beskarandblasters' Taylor Swift Drabble (lol) Challenge! My song is "Slut!" from 1989. Sorry, Kel, this isn’t exactly a drabble. Spanish translations provided in parentheses. Thank you as always @katareyoudrilling aka the best beta 🧡

tags/warnings: flirting, banter, food and drink mention, reader has no description other than having a vagina and brief mention of breasts, able-bodied reader, reader’s ex spread mean rumors about her, small town gossip, bartender!reader, derogatory language used in a derogatory way (slut, other things) (not by Frankie), Frankie speaks Spanish and reader understands, pet names (hermosa, baby, querida, bebita), smut: kissing, groping, hickies, oral (f!receiving), p-in-v sex (protected), fingering (f!receiving), cuddling, oral against a wall

...

You could hear them talking about you.

You’d heard your name, which gave it away, but also the words “Chris”, “easy,” and “slut” and, well. You knew.

It’s not like they tried to hide it, really. But you always knew when they were talking about you. If the glances and overheard words didn’t give it away, the laughing whenever you walked by did.

You sighed as you gathered the glasses from the newly empty table by the low stage at the back of the room. “Just ignore them,” Laura had whispered to you earlier. “They’re not worth it.”

As always, it didn't really help.

You carried the dirty dishes back behind the bar and ignored the sudden, ostentatious hush from the corner booth full of guys that you had to pass to get there. They could at least try to be less obvious about it. You locked eyes briefly with Laura, the other bartender on duty that night and your best friend, and she frowned sympathetically. You shook your head in response. You both knew there was nothing you could do about it.

Once you were done dropping off your load in the kitchen, you allowed yourself one brief moment of leaning against the wall of the dark hallway that led back to the bar. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Fuck them,” you whispered to yourself. “And fuck him.” You shook your head and heaved yourself back up, heading back to work.

…

“You’d think they’d get tired of it,” Laura remarked, pushing her way back behind the bar with the signed tab from the corner booth. After a couple more hours of irritation they had finally left.

“Not so far,” you sighed. “And it’s not just them. They’re just the worst ones.” Chris’ friends hadn’t let up in the 6 months since you’d been broken up and didn’t show any signs of losing interest in making your life miserable.

Laura furrowed her brow and made a disgusted noise. “They’re such assholes. At least he knows better than to come here.”

You nodded. It was the one silver lining around the whole situation – Chris would never set foot in this bar again, if he knew what was good for him. “Bill would kick him out and he knows it.” Bill was your boss and the owner and he had hated Chris even before you’d started dating.

Laura laughed, darkly. “He may be able to lie to most of the town, but Bill would never believe him.” She sighed as she started cleaning up behind the bar. “I don’t know why they all believe him anyway.”

You shrugged. You’d had a lot of time to think about this question, and you were pretty sure you knew the answer. It was simple, in the end. “He’s from here. I’m not.”

With a huff, Laura rolled her eyes. “That’s so stupid. You’re from here, too. You were six when your parents moved to town.”

You smiled a little. She was a good friend, but she was wrong about this. “That’s not enough for them, and you know it.” Them being all the old money families in town, the ones who hadn’t thought you were good enough for Chris in the first place. The ones who heard about your break up and clucked like satisfied old hens, finally proven right. The ones who gossiped about you over brunch and at the golf course every weekend. She was never right for him anyway. He can do better. You knew that’s what they thought – some of them had said it to your face.

But at least your bar wasn’t really their scene.

“God I hate this town,” Laura muttered, violently shoving the dishwasher closed. “How’d we get stuck here, anyway.”

You laughed and nudged her with your elbow. “It’s not so bad. Just have to ignore them.”

She eyed you. “Is that working for you? Ignoring them?”

You bit your lip and turned, trying to hide your face from her scrutiny. “Most days, sure.” You felt her arms come around you from behind and smiled at the hug.

“My offer to punch him still stands.”

Your smile turned into a grin. She’d offered the day of the break up and reminded you often ever since.

“Thank you, but I’ll pass.”

Laura grumbled as you both got busy cleaning up behind the bar and turned to talking about your plans for your upcoming day off. One more day of work and you had almost a whole free weekend, for once. You tried to shrug off your tension from a night of dodging the looks of the many people in this town who’d decided you were worth about as much as a bit of dirt on the bottom of their shoes. It sort of worked.

…

The next day was your last day of work before your day off, but you didn’t work until the evening. You celebrated by sleeping until almost noon.

Once you were awake and showered and feeling generally more alive, you decided to head to the coffee shop downtown for a late breakfast. You ignored the possibility that you might run into one of Chris’ friends there – you’d decided months ago not to let them keep you from doing what you wanted.

You were pleased to see that it wasn’t too busy when you arrived and your favorite table by the window was open and waiting for you. You ordered quickly and snagged it, settling in with your current book.

You glanced up as the door opened with a light jingle a few minutes later and did a double take.

It was him.

Not your ex, thank God, but him – the man who’d been slowly taking over your thoughts and daydreams for the last month or so.

Frankie Morales, recent arrival in town and newbie-turning-regular at the bar you worked at. He’d been flirting with you since the moment you met, and you were living in fear of the day he would hear the rumors and stop.

As he stepped into the shop he removed his hat and ran his hand through his curly hair, which caused it to fluff up and fall cutely around his face. He replaced the hat quickly, though, and glanced around the shop. You started to look away, afraid to be caught, but he met your eyes and grinned.

Changing course, he turned from the path to the counter to walk towards your spot at the window.

“Fancy meeting you here,” his brown eyes twinkled at you as he came to stand next to you. “You busy? Can I join you?” He nodded hopefully towards the empty chair across from you, and you started to smile.

“Sure, Frankie,” you felt hesitant but you didn’t want him to leave. You started to rearrange your belongings to give him some space.

“I’ll order and be right back.” He gestured back over his shoulder at the counter.

You nodded and smiled and tried not to stare as he turned and walked away from you.

There was a short line at the register. You tried to keep from watching him wait there but only succeeded in limiting it to quick glances at him out of the corner of your eye. You couldn’t help but trace your eyes over the way he looked in his jeans and denim shirt. He was so broad. You shook your head, trying to clear it.

Frankie was next in line when the door jingled again, and to your dismay two of the guys who’d just spent the entire previous night laughing at you at the bar walked in. You ducked your head, hoping they wouldn’t notice you. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched in growing horror as they came to stand behind Frankie. You clenched your hands in your lap and tried to breathe.

One of them clearly spotted you and a smirk came across his face that sent your stomach plummeting to your feet. He elbowed his friend and you couldn’t hear what he said, but Frankie clearly could.

His back stiffened and his hands clenched into fists. You desperately wanted to know what they were saying and you really didn’t want Frankie to hear it. You were frozen, wondering if this was it, if this was the end of whatever had been building between you since you met. Wondering if it was over before it even began.

Frankie ordered and you could see the tension in his frame as he tried to ignore the two men behind him when they started to laugh. You couldn't take it anymore and closed your eyes, hiding behind your hands.

Just a moment later you heard footsteps returning to your table.

“Hey,” his voice was low and soothing and you couldn’t help but look up at him. He was still tense, but his face was gentle as he looked at you. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You swallowed, mouth dry. You couldn’t tell if he was offering to go somewhere together, but you shook your head regardless.

“I try not to let them make choices for me about where I go or what I do.” You twisted your fingers together, wondering if that was too direct, too much of an admission. Did he know?

Frankie nodded, a thoughtful frown on his face as he sat across from you. His eyes darted behind you to your right and his frown deepened. You resisted the urge to turn and look.

“Is it always like that?” As he asked, he slid his right hand across the table to touch the back of yours lightly with his fingertips. You shivered.

“Not with everyone.” He slid his hand over yours and squeezed gently. You continued, “but with some people in town, yeah. What–” you cleared your throat. “What did they say?” You needed to know what they’d said in his hearing, but at the same time, you never wanted to know. You’d heard enough.

Frankie shook his head, scowling. “I’m not gonna repeat it.”

You winced.

“Hey,” he squeezed your hand again, leaning towards you. “I’m not listening to them, alright? I promise. I haven’t, and I won’t.”

You blinked, taking that in. He hasn’t? Past tense? “You mean, you’ve heard something– I mean, something else? They said something? Before now?”

Frankie ran his thumb gently over the back of your hand, searching between your eyes for something. “Yes. But I haven’t paid them any attention. I promise, ok?”

You took a deep breath and tried to push back the pricks of emotion you felt building behind your eyes. “I’m sorry, Frankie, I don’t know what you heard but I can imagine, but it’s not–”

“Shh,” he hushed you gently and scooted his chair around the small round table towards you so he could take both of your hands in his. “Hey, no. I promise, I’m not listening to them. I know what small towns are like, hermosa. I know what small people are like. I’d rather hear about you from you. I–” he smiled, a bit sheepishly. “I’ve been trying to get up the nerve to ask you out for weeks.”

You grasped at his hands, clutching where he was already holding them. “You have?”

“Yeah, I have. Just wasn’t sure you’d be interested.” You scoffed and he smiled. He said your name quietly and leaned forward. “D’you want to go out with me?”

You bit your lip. “Are you sure? You know they won’t– they’ll talk. I don’t want them to start with you, too.”

Frankie frowned and looked down. When he met your eyes again his gaze was fierce. It pinned you in place.

“They’ll talk anyway, and I don’t give a fuck what they think.” He squeezed your hands. “I only care what you think. Can I take you out, hermosa?”

You nodded and started to smile.

He smiled back. “When are you free?”

“Well, tomorrow’s my day off,” you started. He grinned when you continued, “how’s tomorrow night?”

He nodded, looking excited. “Baby, I’d love that. Mind if I drop by your work later today, too?”

Baby. You shivered and nodded and as he started to plan your date, you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face.

…

You headed into work that night with the smile still on your face. Frankie had promised to come by the bar that night, so you’d be seeing him soon. That thought combined with your excitement for the date had you floating through the doors of Bill’s bar.

Laura took one look at you and demanded details, which you happily provided as you got ready in the back together.

Laura knew him too, since Frankie and his friend Santiago had first visited the bar almost two months before, when Frankie had first moved to town. His best friend had helped him move and stayed in town for a few days while he got settled, you’d learned that night. Among other things. (Like how pretty Frankie’s eyes were when he smiled at you, and how he hadn’t stopped smiling at you the whole night. How he’d been looking at you like that ever since.)

You knew you’d been standoffish in the beginning. You’d wondered if he’d figured it out, if he’d heard the things they said about you and seen the way they looked at you in town. And now you knew he had, but as you thought back over the time you’d known him, you realized you couldn’t figure out when that might have been. He’d never treated you differently, never stopped flirting with you. Never hesitated, never looked at you with anything but delight and wonder in his eyes.

“So, a date with Frankie, huh,” she nudged you with her elbow as you walked back towards the front together, ready to start your shift.

You nodded. “He’s coming by tonight.” You felt the smile tugging at the edge of your lips where it had made its home since you saw him at the coffee shop. “Not sure when, though.”

She went through the door first, and you heard her laugh. “Now.”

“What?” you asked as you came through. You turned to see what she was looking at.

“Now. He’s already here.” Laura kept laughing as she headed to the other end of the bar and you grinned as you locked eyes with the man waiting for you at the bar. He smiled back and watched you approach.

“Frankie, didn’t you just get done with work like half an hour ago?”

He shrugged. “Wanted to see you, hermosa. Just went home to change and figured, why wait?”

You laughed. “You know I won’t be able to talk to you much, right?” You wanted to stay and chat but you knew work would pull you away, repeatedly.

“I know.” He nodded. “I’ll be here when you’re free.”

The idea of Frankie wanting to see you so badly he’d sit here alone made something twist in your chest. “Ok, Frankie.”

It wasn’t busy yet, so you stayed to chat until some of the regulars started to arrive. Somehow, even with the interruptions of you needing to actually do your job, you felt connected with him like you were on two ends of a string. You’d pour a drink and glance up, and find him already looking at you. Or think about him and look over to find him smiling down at his drink, looking like maybe he was thinking about the same thing.

Laura teased you mercilessly about the smile on your face that you couldn’t seem to get rid of.

Your good mood lasted through the first couple of hours of your shift, but right after the dinner rush you turned towards the taps to find Laura in front of you, scowling.

“What is it?” She shadowed you as you started to pour a couple of pints for the guys at the other end of the bar.

“They’re here,” she whispered, gesturing with her head towards the back corner.

Your shoulders climbed up around your ears at the news. “Of course they are. Which ones?”

She crossed her arms and huffed. “Jared and his buddies.” Jared was Chris’ best friend, and usually the ringleader whenever he wasn’t around.

“Great,” you muttered.

She helped you carry the drinks back. “Hey, you know I’ve got their table. Don’t worry about it.” You nodded and bumped her hip with yours in thanks.

Laura headed over to meet them and you tried to put them out of your mind. They were all the way across the bar from where Frankie was sitting, and you moved back towards him.

He was studying you as you walked up and you knew he’d probably seen them come in. “Is that more of them?” he asked, voice low. You nodded. He sighed. “I’m glad Laura’s got your back.”

“Yeah,” you agreed as you refilled his water. “I usually don’t have to talk to them at all.”

Frankie tilted his head, thoughtful. “Do they come in here just to bother you?”

You sighed and leaned towards him, crossing your arms. “I think so. They never came here before.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Before?” He repeated, obviously curious.

“Before I broke up with their friend. He’s not here, Bill won’t allow it.”

“Good,” Frankie murmured, brow furrowed. “But they keep coming back?”

“At least a few times a week,” you confirmed.

He glanced across the bar at them, frowning. “What do they do?”

You shook your head and reached out to turn his head back to face you. He smiled and tilted his jaw so that his cheek rested against your palm. “Mostly just stare and talk about me. I can’t hear them, usually, but they make it obvious.”

You could tell he wanted to ask why. Why they bothered you, why they did all this. The surprising thing was how much you wanted to tell him.

“I’ll tell you about it later, ok? Not here.” You brushed your thumb over his cheek and his smile grew.

He nodded. “Ok, baby. But you don’t have to tell me anything, it’s like I told you. I want to learn about you from you. There’s no rush.”

You smiled, warmed by his words, and headed back to work.

…

A few hours later, the crowd was winding down and Laura waved you off when you offered to stay and close with her.

“We don’t need you,” she said, gesturing down the bar towards Sean, whose shift had started later than yours. “Go take your man home.” You laughed, and glanced back at Frankie, but he wasn’t looking at you.

He was frowning and looking off to his right because Jared was walking straight towards him.

You squeezed Laura’s arm and she turned to look. “Shit,” she muttered. “Maybe he’s just going to the bathroom.”

You both winced as Jared stopped right beside Frankie’s chair. You started to move towards them, but Jared was already speaking.

“... you shouldn’t bother with her, man, she’s a real piece of work.” Jared’s snooty tone grated on your nerves. It’d been a while since you had to listen to it.

“Excuse me?” Frankie’s voice was low and you could hear the anger in it. He looked absolutely furious, mouth drawn into a straight line, brows furrowed. His hands were clenched on the bar in front of him.

“Hey, ready to go?” You spoke only to Frankie, ignoring Jared, who huffed. “I’m off for the night.” Frankie nodded, visibly taking a deep breath and releasing his fists.

Jared sneered and you caught it out of the corner of your eye. “You know, even for one night she’s not worth the–”

You cut him off before he could say whatever vile thing he was thinking. “Get lost, Jared.”

He huffed again and turned from you to Frankie. “Look, man, I get she’s probably fine in bed, given where she’s been, but I promise you, you don’t want to touch this one with a 10-foot pole.”

Frankie looked like he was thinking about putting Jared on the ground and you decided enough was enough.

“C’mon, Frankie,” you slipped out from behind the bar and tugged him towards the back with you. “Let me grab my stuff and we can go.”

“Hijo de puta,” (son of a whore) Frankie muttered. He made a low sound almost like a growl and you startled. He looked immediately apologetic. “Sorry, baby,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your hairline. It was the first time he’d done anything like that, and you almost froze in place at how nice his lips felt on your skin. “Let’s go.”

Jared scoffed behind you, but you were already turning away. “Fine, man. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you about the town slut when you regret this later.”

You heard Sean start to threaten to throw Jared out so you grabbed Frankie’s arm and dragged him back to the staff area. He immediately gathered you in his arms as soon as you let the break room door fall shut behind you.

“Mierda,” (shit) he breathed, burying his face in your neck. “That’s the type of shit you’re dealing with? I am so sorry baby.” He pulled you in tighter, and you relaxed into his hold. “I promise I can keep it together. Just took me by surprise, how bad it was.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. “I’ll tell you about it. But let’s get out of here first.”

“Hey,” he started, pulling back. “You don’t have to–”

“No, I know,” you interrupted, gathering your stuff. “I want to.”

He nodded and slid his hand into yours as you turned to leave. “Wanna go out the back?” He squeezed your hand gently as he asked.

You sighed and nodded. “Might as well.”

The two of you slipped out the back of the kitchen and turned to walk around the building to your cars. “Follow me home?” You asked nudging him.

Frankie smiled. “You sure?”

“Yes.” You leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “C’mon.”

Soon enough the two of you were pulling into your complex and walking up to your door. You felt his hand come to rest on the small of your back as you dug for your keys and you leaned back into it for a moment. The way he’d started touching you more today since you agreed to a date was sending your mind spinning. You hoped he’d still want to, after your talk.

“Come in, Frankie.” You invited him in and he followed your lead in removing his shoes before you both dropped onto the couch.

“Wait, sorry, do you want something to drink?” You started to stand again but he stopped you.

“No, I’m fine. Just had plenty of water from a very attentive bartender.” He winked, and you laughed. “C’mere.” He tugged on your hand and you slid closer until you were settled on the cushion next to him, slightly turned towards him. You let yourself relax, leaning sideways against the back of your couch. He looked so warm and broad and comfortable in your home – you wished you felt up to leaning on him instead. But you needed a little bit of space for this.

You sat for a minute, trying to figure out where to start. As if he could sense your hesitation, he reached out and took your hand in his again, and you sighed. “Ok, well. I guess I should explain.”

“Whatever you want to tell me, I’ll listen.” He started to rub the back of your hand with his thumb and you smiled.

“Ok. Here we go.” You drew in a deep breath and tried to let his presence ground you. You stared down at your joined hands as you spoke. “I was dating Chris for almost a year. It went ok, I guess, for a while. But it turns out he’s a massive asshole.” Frankie squeezed your hand. “Yeah, I should have known better. I’ve known him all my life. But he was never mean like some of them.”

“Them?” Frankie asked. You could feel that he was looking at your face, but you couldn’t look away from the way his thumb was caressing your hand.

“The rich kids. The ones whose families have been here since forever, the ones with land and big houses and so on. They were always mean to anyone who wasn’t like them. And I was never like them.” With your free hand you started to idly pick at a stubborn thread that was sticking out of your couch cushion. It refused to budge and you bit your lip.

You sighed. “But he wasn’t mean, back in school. So when he asked me out I gave him a chance. We’d all been away to college and come back. I figured he’d probably grown up some. And it seemed like he had, for a while.” You shrugged. The thread started to wiggle a little and you tugged at it harder. “But he’s not different. He used to bring me to family stuff, and his parents always treated me like shit and he swore he didn’t notice. Then at the end I found out he’d been cheating on me for months, almost the whole relationship. And when I confronted him he caused a scene and flipped it around on me.”

Frankie stiffened and you closed your eyes. “Like a hundred people heard him yell that I’d been cheating on him with his friends, that they all told him it was true. I couldn’t believe it at the time — it was a side of him I’d never seen before.” You laughed to yourself, darkly. “He’s a great actor. And then on my way out of the house his mom accused me of stealing some jewelry — the earrings I was wearing. Which he had given me a gift.” You opened your eyes, finally, and saw that you’d tugged so hard the thread was pulling away from the fabric of the couch, but it looked like it might create a run in the fabric. You knew you should stop tugging on it, but you couldn’t. “But it was enough. Now the rich people in town who all go to the same country club treat me like shit and whisper behind my back. Chris started dating some new girl a few months ago but she’s rich, too.”

Suddenly Frankie’s free hand smoothed over yours, and he gently pulled yours away from where you’d been about to create a hole in the fabric of your couch cushion. He tugged both of your hands into his lap. “What’s up with the guys who come to the bar, then?”

You groaned and finally looked up to meet his eyes. “I have no idea. I can’t figure out if they know he was lying and just decided to protect him, or if they believe him and decided to make my life miserable. Maybe they just hate me for some reason. Whatever it is, I just try to ignore it.”

Frankie frowned, gently, and squeezed both of your hands. “You deserve better.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you. I know.”

He nodded and finally smiled. “Good.” He looked at you for a moment, studying your face. “Thank you for telling me.”

You nodded, not sure what to say. But Frankie continued, “I promise not to lose it on those guys.”

“They’d deserve it,” you laughed as you agreed. “But they’re not worth the trouble.”

Frankie looked thoughtful as he lifted both of your hands to press soft kisses along your knuckles. “Well, hermosa, I’m glad you agreed to go out with me.”

You perked up and tried not to look anxious. “You still want to go out? Are you sure?”

He shot you a look and you laughed a little. “Of course I do, baby.” He leaned a little bit closer and continued, voice low. “I mean it, you deserve better. And I want to give it to you, if you’ll let me. I want to give you everything.”

Your breath caught in your throat. All you could do was nod. He grinned. “Good.”

…

The next night, you were anxious.

Frankie said he’d pick you up at 6pm, so at 5:55pm you were standing nervously behind the front door of your apartment, getting a text pep talk from Laura.

He seems like a good guy. But if he says or does anything weird just text me. I’ll come get you.

You smiled. This was your first date, the first time you’d really dressed up, in six months, and you were nervous. But Laura was right – Frankie seemed like a good guy. You rocked back on your heels as you waited by your door. Maybe this would work out, after all.

Just then, someone knocked, and your smile grew as you flung the door open.

Frankie looked nervous on the other side of it and your breath caught in your throat as you took him in. He had on dark jeans, a button up shirt, and his hair was styled without a hat.

“Frankie, you look–”

“Hermosa, te–”

You both laughed when you talked over each other. Frankie stepped forward to tangle your fingers together.

“This is gorgeous on you, baby.” With his free hand he ran his fingertips down your side and you shivered.

“You’re looking pretty handsome yourself, Frankie.” He blushed in such an adorable way that you wanted to kiss him before you even got out of your apartment. You cleared your throat. “Shall we?”

Frankie nodded and stepped backwards to lead you out of your apartment. He kept his fingers laced with yours as you locked the door and made your way to his car.

“So where are we going?” You asked once you were settled in the passenger seat. Frankie had wanted it to be a surprise, and you wondered what he picked.

“Well, hermosa, I thought you might enjoy getting out of town for a bit.” You looked at him, surprised. He shrugged. “I heard at work that there’s a restaurant in the next town over that’s pretty amazing, thought we could try it. Got a reservation and everything.”

You smiled and reached out to take his hand again. “Sounds perfect, Frankie.”

On the way to the restaurant he updated you on his coworkers’ shenanigans – he usually visited the bar at least weekly and gave you the update then, and you felt a little thrill at the idea that you and Frankie were spending time together outside of where you worked. He wanted to spend time with you. He knew, and it still felt as easy and warm as it ever did with him. You sank into it with a smile.

“I’m really glad you asked me out, Frankie,” you told him in a lull in the conversation. You watched as he blushed again and grinned.

“Me too, baby.” He tugged your hand up to press a kiss to your knuckles, the same way he had the night before. You bit your lip. His lips were so soft and you wondered what they might feel like somewhere else. It sent your head spinning and you took a deep breath. You knew this was only the beginning of the night.

When you arrived, Frankie met you by the passenger door of his truck. He slid his hand around your waist until it came to rest on the small of your back, walking next to you into the restaurant.

“Two for Morales,” he told the host, stepping away from you briefly. You took the opportunity to study the restaurant, since you’d never been. It was all deep, rich tones of green and brown, with dark wood floors and low lighting that flickered like candlelight. The tables were far enough apart to feel cozy and romantic and you smiled a little bit to yourself as you thought about Frankie seeking out a place like this for your date.

The host gestured for you to follow and you started to weave through the restaurant towards a small round booth in the back corner. As you did, though, you heard a voice you recognized.

“What the devil is she doing here?” She wasn’t shouting, but then, she never had to to be heard.

You tried to glance discreetly to your right and felt the blood drain out of your face. Chris’ new girlfriend and a bunch of their friends were seated at a long table near the front windows. You didn’t see Chris himself, thank God, but this wasn’t much better.

Your foot came down funny on your next step. You felt yourself start to stumble and it kicked off a spiral of anxiety inside of you – you were going to hit the ground in the middle of this fancy restaurant, and they would see it, and –

But you barely wobbled before Frankie’s arm slipped around your waist again and supported you, keeping you upright. Somehow you both continued forward as if nothing had happened.

You could hear them whispering behind you as you moved farther into the restaurant and you struggled to take a deep breath. Frankie tightened his arm around you and leaned in. You could feel his lips brush against your ear as he whispered, “fuck ‘em. They don’t deserve even a glance from you, querida.”

He guided you into your both and slid in next to you, and you realized you couldn’t see them from here. Frankie could, but he was only looking at you. You looked back and you felt the tension in your shoulders start to slip away.

You knew what they thought. You knew what they were probably saying, what Chris had told them about you after you broke up. But somehow, for once, it really didn’t matter. They might have been looking at you, but suddenly you couldn’t feel their stares. You had Frankie’s eyes on you, only for you, and that was worth more than anything else. Your spine straightened and you leaned forward to tangle your fingers with his on the table.

“You’re right, Frankie.” You smiled. “There’s only one person I want to look at in here, anyway.”

He grinned and ducked his head. “I know you’ve caught me looking at you at the bar, hermosa.”

You bit your lip. “Maybe. But only ‘cause I was looking back.”

Frankie laughed and lifted your hands to press another kiss to the back of yours. “Well, good. Having your eyes on me is all I’ve wanted.”

You felt your own cheeks heat as his words. You’d been suffering under the unwavering attention of half the town for months, slowly shrinking into yourself even as you tried not to let them get to you. But somehow the attention of this man was doing the exact opposite. You felt like you were glowing under his gaze, like you were emerging out of a long darkness into the sunlight at last.

The rest of dinner felt the same. You lost yourself in the low lights, the warm room, the soft touches, the rumbling sound of Frankie’s voice as he flirted and laughed and whispered in your ear. You felt like you were in your own world with him in the booth as the sounds of the restaurant swirled around you but never quite reached you. The flicker of the soft light across his face captured your eyes and he smiled whenever he caught you looking at his mouth.

By the time you fought briefly over the check (Frankie won, but only because you secured a promise that you would pay for the next one) you felt like you were floating. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so wanted. You wanted to sink into Frankie and never come out.

He stood first and offered his hand as you stood from the table. You smiled up at him and took it. As he slipped his hand around your waist again you finally glanced back towards the front of the restaurant. You realized you’d completely forgotten they were there, but you remembered suddenly when you saw them again. They hadn’t left.

But you felt different than you had before. Frankie’s arm pulled you in and he started to walk towards the door. You looked at him and smiled, and felt yourself sink back into the connection the two of you had started to build over dinner.

They might as well look, you thought as you walked past their table. You looked at Frankie again. I’d look at us, too.

You floated out the door and through the parking lot towards his car. You reached for the door handle but he stopped you, turning you around and crowding you back against the passenger door.

Frankie’s eyes were dark and intent and you felt a shiver climb up your spine.

“Can I kiss you, hermosa?” He whispered into the air between you and you could have sworn you saw his words in the reflections of the lights and the stars above your head.

“Yes, Frankie,” you breathed. “Please–”

He leaned in and finally pressed his lips to yours, and you heard yourself moan into the kiss. His lips were soft as they pressed against yours, sending every thought and worry flying out of your head. You opened for him and he took the invitation, running his tongue lightly over your bottom lip. You gasped as he deepened the kiss.

After a few moments he broke away to press a line of kisses down your jaw and neck until his face was buried in your shoulder. “Fuck, hermosa,” he was breathing hard and you realized suddenly that you were, too. “You feel so good in my arms.” He kissed you again, on the spot where your neck sloped into your shoulder, and you shivered. “You looked so hot walking past those assholes without so much as sparing them a glance, you know that?”

You grinned up at the sky and tightened your hold around his neck. “I was just looking at you, Frankie.” You weren’t nervous anymore. You knew what you wanted. “Come home with me?”

He whipped his head up to stare at you. “Are you sure? I don’t– we don’t have to rush anything, baby.”

You nodded, warmed by his concern. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” You watched the grin take over his face, slow and sinful.

“Me too, baby. I’d like nothing more than to go home with you,” he agreed, before kissing you again.

“Then take me home, Frankie,” you mumbled against his mouth. He groaned and pulled away to do just that.

Your ride home was full of the best kind of tension. Frankie’s hand came to rest on your thigh and you resisted the urge to scoot it higher up your leg, holding it there under yours. You could feel the tension in his muscles as he held himself still.

By the time you reached your apartment you could have sworn you were both vibrating with the need to touch.

As you unlocked your apartment door, Frankie stepped up behind you, just like he had the night before. This time he closed the distance and crowded up against your back, snaking his arms around your waist. You leaned back into him, distracted, until he lifted one hand to guide yours with the key towards the door.

You felt him huff a laugh against your neck. “Let’s get inside, querida. We’ve got things to do.”

You laughed, charmed, as you finally opened your door. “Is that so?” You turned to look at him and his expression made something in your chest clench.

“It is,” he agreed, stepping towards you and closing the door behind him. He turned the lock and stepped forward again to pull you into his arms. “Hi, baby,” he whispered against your mouth, and you smiled as he kissed you.

Frankie backed you into the wall by your door and you let your keys drop from your hands as you raised them to bury your fingers in his hair. His hands framed your face, flat on the wall on either side of your head as he leaned in. The kiss suddenly went from soft to searing as his body pressed yours into the wall. You could feel him everywhere, surrounding you, all down your front. You became suddenly aware of the hard length of his cock pressing against your hip and you gasped.

He kissed you again but then moved away to scrape his teeth lightly down your neck. He started worrying a mark on your neck under your ear, and you sighed.

“Frankie,” you breathed, tugging at his hair to bring his mouth back to yours.

“Hmm?” He hummed into your mouth.

You reached back and tugged at one of his arms. “Touch me, Frankie.”

He was so close to you you could feel him shudder in response. “Is that what you want, bebita?” You nodded and felt him smile against your cheek. He moved his right hand from the wall to your side, squeezing your hip. “Where do you want me to touch you? Here?” He teased his fingertips down your hip. You shook your head.

“No? Here, then?” He leaned his weight on his left hand, using his right to trace idle designs up your torso until his fingertips came to rest just under your breast. Your breath hitched.

“Hmm, no, I don’t think so. I think you want something else.” Frankie slipped his hand back down your chest until his fingertips brushed over your core through your clothes. He turned his hand and cupped you gently. With his lips pressed to your ear, he whispered, “here?”

You gasped and nodded. “Yes, Frankie, yes—”

“Shhh,” he pressed kisses to your cheek and the corner of your lips. He gripped you firmly with his hand and you squirmed. “I told you, baby. I want to give you everything.”

You closed your eyes against the feelings he was drawing out of you, overwhelmed at his words.

He kissed you again, quickly, but pressed his forehead to yours right after, meeting your eyes.

“Can I put my mouth on you, bebita?” His voice was deep and warm and it melted down your spine.

Your hands flew up to grasp at his shirt. “Frankie, you–”

“I love it,” he murmured, looking right into your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it. Will you let me?”

You started to smile. “Let you? Frankie, please.”

He grinned and started tugging at your clothes gently. “C’mon, bebita. Quiero verte.” (I want to see you)

You soon found yourself leaning back against the wall of your hallway, completely bare from the waist down. Frankie dropped to his knees before you, mouth open, eyes wide.

“Fuck,” he whispered, crawling forward. “You are so fucking beautiful.” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks at his words and resisted the urge to wrap your arms around yourself.

Frankie settled between your knees and smiled up at you. He winked. “Open up, bebita.” He lifted your left leg over his shoulder and you steadied yourself against the wall. “I won’t let you fall.” Frankie moved closer until he was framing you in place with his shoulders. He sucked in a sharp breath. You bit your lip.

“Qué cosita más linda,” (what a pretty little thing) he murmured, leaning forwards. He placed his left forearm over your hips like a bar and pressed a gentle kiss right above your clit. You sighed and slid your hands into his hair.

“That’s right, bebita.” His lips moved against you when he spoke and you shivered. “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

You felt his fingers brush along your slit and then press you open. HIs tongue followed right behind as he teased you, licking from your entrance to your clit. You felt boneless, suddenly worried your leg wouldn’t hold you up. But he was pressing you firmly into the wall with his shoulders and his arm. You could see his muscles working in his shoulders and back and it made your head swim.

He flattened his tongue and licked again and you squirmed. He teased the tip of his tongue around your clit and your hips thrust forward before you could stop them.

“Hey,” Frankie said your name and you blinked and looked down at him. You could see his eyes and the bridge of his nose and you felt your heart rate pick up at the sight of him between your knees like this. “That’s good, baby. Ride my face.”

“Frankie–” you started, breathless.

He moved his arm higher so that your hips could move more easily and leaned forward to slip his tongue through your folds again. You thrust your hips forward and he made an encouraging noise.

You closed your eyes and let your head fall back against the wall. Frankie teased around your entrance with his fingertips as his tongue worked a slow rhythm on your clit, and on your next thrust forward his finger slipped inside. You gasped and you felt him smile against you. You clutched at his hair, suddenly much overwhelmed.

“Yes, Frankie–” you moaned, and he pressed a second finger inside, twisting both in a way that made you chase them with your hips when he pulled them back. His tongue was moving mercilessly over your clit and you felt it, starting to build at the base of your spine. With every thrust of your hips and curl of his fingers and slide of his tongue he was working you closer and closer, relentlessly driving you upwards towards your peak. You couldn’t catch your breath, you could only do as he asked and clutch at his hair as you ground your hips forward to ride his face.

You chased the feeling climbing up your spine and he urged you on with his fingers and his mouth. On your next thrust, Frankie closed his lips around your clit and sucked, gently, as his fingers thrust forward again, and you were there.

You cried out as you curled over him, pressing his head into you with your grip in his hair, holding him there as you fell over the edge. His left arm curled around your back and urged you forward, holding you to him as he opened his mouth wide against your pussy. You quivered around his fingers, locked together as he worked you through it with his tongue.

“Fuck,” you choked out as you felt your leg start to give. Frankie caught you by the waist, slipping your leg off of his shoulder and easing you to the floor in front of him. Your eyes met, on the same level again, and your eyebrows raised as you took him in. His face was red and wet and his lips were puffy. His expression was both delighted and wrecked. He was grinning.

“You taste so fucking good, baby.” You gasped as he leaned in and pressed his wet mouth to your neck. He left a trail of moisture behind as he kissed a path up behind your ear. “Better than I ever imagined. I could spend all night between your legs and never get tired.”

You laughed, slipping your arms around his neck as he leaned over you. “Never?” you teased, and he nodded.

“Can I do that again?” He pulled back and looked down at your pussy and your legs twitched.

Again? You shook your head. “You can do that anytime, Frankie. But right now I want your cock inside me.”

His eyes darted back to meet yours and his grin turned into a smirk. “Oh yeah?” He leaned in to kiss you and you smiled.

“Yeah, Frankie. Take me to bed.”

He stood and put out his hands to guide you to your feet. “Show me the way, querida.”

He followed closely behind you as you walked to your bedroom, spinning you around the moment you crossed the threshold. He pulled you into another kiss as he walked you carefully backwards towards your bed.

You ran your hands down his sides and realized he was still wearing all of his clothes. “Take these off, Frankie,” you murmured as you undid the button on his pants. He unbuttoned his shirt as you slid his pants down over his hips, and soon he was standing in front of you completely bare. Your eyes widened as you took him in. He was all golden skin and soft muscles – the kind where you knew he was strong without so much definition, with a soft midsection that you wanted to rest your head against like a pillow. You stepped forward and pressed your body against his and found he felt as soft and warm as he looked.

As your naked body came into contact with his, his breath caught and you felt it. “Fuck, hermosa,” he murmured as his hands slid over your back. “You feel so fucking amazing.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed kissed down the line of his collarbone. “So do you, Frankie.”

As he pulled you in, you felt his cock standing proudly against his stomach. It was hard between your bodies and you squirmed, tilting your hips forward in a vain attempt to feel it against you.

He pressed his smile to your hairline. “‘S that what you want, bebita?”

You nodded, and he walked you back two steps towards the bed without releasing you from his embrace. His cock shifted between you and you sighed.

“Lie down,” he murmured, guiding you onto the bed. You scooted back and he followed, crawling over you until he was perched above you on his hands and knees. “You look good under me, baby.”

“You look good over me, Frankie.” You smiled and reached up to tug him down for a kiss.

He lowered his body to yours slowly and you gasped as you felt his cock come to rest against your hip. You moved your hips, but he continued forward and to the side, coming to rest against you on the bed. “Not yet, bebita. Need to get you ready first.” You frowned and he smiled at you. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

He trailed his fingertips down your chest and stomach until he was teasing at your slit again.

“I’m ready, Frankie,” you insisted, reaching down to grip his cock in one hand. He was big. “You just fingered me by my front door, remember?” You raised your eyebrows at him and pumped his cock in your hand. His hips stuttered forward and you grinned.

He sighed and shook his head at you. “Let me just make sure.” He leaned down to kiss you as his fingers slipped inside you again, two this time, and you opened your legs to give him more room.

“Hmm,” he hummed as he twisted his fingers inside of you. “You were right, bebita. Ya estás mojada.” (you’re already wet) He kissed you as he slipped another finger inside and you arched your back at the sensation.

“Frankie–�� you started, but he interrupted you with another kiss. You could feel how wet you were around his fingers and you wanted more.

“¿Estás lista, bebita?” (are you ready, baby?)

You nodded and reached towards your nightstand and the condoms you knew were inside the drawer. You tried not to let out the whine you could feel at the back of your throat when he pulled his fingers from you gently. He reached over you and grabbed a condom, making quick work of slipping it on.

“C’mere,” he murmured, lifting your leg until it was wrapped around his waist. He bent your other knee and extended it to the side on the bed. You realized you were completely open to him, pussy on display. “Just like that. Fuck, you look gorgeous like this.”

You felt your cheeks heat and looked down to see what he was looking at. Your pussy was open, spread wide, and glistening with your arousal. His cock was mere inches away as he held his hips above yours. You swallowed hard.

“Hey, look at me.”

You looked up at his face and found him smiling softly at you. He tilted his hips forward and you felt the head of his cock nudge against your clit. You sucked in a sharp breath.

He nodded. “That feels so fucking good, baby.” You blinked, trying not to close your eyes. You wanted to see everything.

He shifted his hips until the head of his cock notched against your entrance, and you both gasped. “Ay, mira,” (look) he demanded, and you looked down to watch as the head of his cock pressed inside of you. Your eyes fluttered closed, you couldn’t help it, and you moaned.

“That’s right.” He pressed inside and you felt every inch of his cock as you stretched around him. “You’re taking me so fucking well. You feel so amazing.” He bottomed out and groaned. “Fuck.”

You realized you’d tangled your fingers in his hair, and you tried to tug him down into a kiss. He resisted long enough to pull back out, and the glide of him inside you was devastating.

On the next thrust, he leaned down to capture your mouth with his.

He kissed you as he established a slow, overwhelming rhythm that stole your breath away. You couldn’t feel anything but Frankie, inside you and all around you. Your head spun as you tried to keep up with the movements of his hips and the slide of his mouth against yours.

After a few moments he twisted, reaching around to tuck your leg tighter around his waist. When he did his cock slid in at a new angle that was just right and you gasped.

“¿Así?” (like that?) he breathed. “Right there?”

You nodded, and held him tight against you. “Yes, Frankie,” you sighed. He thrust forward again and your next breath felt like a sob. You could feel it building inside you again, pooling at the base of your spine and tingling down your arms and legs.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmured into your ear. “Let me see you come again. So fucking beautiful when you come.” He pressed a kiss to your neck and you held his head there with your grip in his hair. He reached down to press his thumb to your clit and you gasped. “Dámelo.” (give it to me)

On his next thrust, you did. You felt your pussy tighten around him as you sobbed out his name. You felt like the bed was spinning away beneath you while you were struck, unable to do anything but arch your back and scream Frankie’s name.

He suddenly picked up the pace, and you tugged on his hair to lift his head. You wanted to see his face when he came.

It was beautiful.

His eyes locked on yours as his mouth hung open, and you watched as his orgasm took him. After only a moment he slumped forward, slightly crushing you, and started pressing kisses anywhere he could reach. You giggled at the brush of his mustache against your skin..

“Fuck, hermosa,” he murmured against your skin. “Only our first time, and it was that fucking amazing?” He shook his head and glanced up at you, eyes playful. “Don’t know how we’ll survive getting any better at this.”

You laughed and kissed the corner of his smirk. He turned his head to kiss you back, gently, and you sighed into it.

“Was it as good as you hoped?” You couldn’t help but feel nervous. It had been so long since you’d had this kind of intimacy with someone, and the last one had ended so badly. But Frankie had been carefully taking care of all of your worries and insecurities one-by-one since you’d met, and this time was no different.

“Good?!” Frankie sounded incredulous as he cupped your cheek in his hand. “Baby, it was better. Better than I could have imagined.” He kissed you again, and you squirmed when you felt his soft cock shift, still inside you.

You smiled. “Alright, Frankie, let’s get cleaned up.” He nodded and pulled carefully out of you before heading to the bathroom. He looked back over his shoulder at you and you took a moment to admire his ass and the curve of his spine. “Can I stay? I don’t want to wear out my welcome, but–”

“Of course.” You cut him off. “I want you here.” He grinned and ducked his head.

After a few moments of cleaning up, you found yourself back in bed with Frankie. He had on only his briefs, and you tugged on an old, oversized t-shirt and nothing else. Frankie crowded up behind you in the bed.

“Thank you for going out with me tonight, baby.” He murmured into your neck as he wrapped his arm around your waist, spooning you.

You smiled. “Want to go out again tomorrow?”

You felt him grin against your neck. “Yes, how about tomorrow morning for brunch and then dinner and then, oh, every day this week. As a start.”

You laughed as he tugged you closer. “Ok, Frankie.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. “I mean it, baby. This is just the start.”

As you closed your eyes, half asleep, you thought to yourself that you’d never bother paying attention to them again.

Not when you had Frankie all to yourself.

...

a/n: let me know what you think? 🧡

tag list and some Frankie fans who I think might be interested: @jeewrites @islacharlotte @iknowisoundcrazy @beardedjoel @undercoverpena @goodwithcheese

#frankie morales x reader #nsfw #taylor swift

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justreadingthings · 20 days

Text

The Mother help me ☺️🪭 this is so good! I love sultry Azriel and his quips. Chef’s kisses babe!

Temptress

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 3.9k

Synopsis: Reader has to play temptress/dancer at the Court of Nightmares for the IC. She has to sit on Az’s lap (conveniently necessary) and eat from his hand. Friends to lovers. They can barely keep their hands to themselves.

A/N: visual aid. Coined diadem ~ The outfit

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You ran your fingers through the beautifully crafted outfit laid on your bed, mulling over the plan for tonight. You were going to the Court of Nightmares for the very first time as a new member of the Inner Circle. The role you’d be playing wasn’t a light one by any means; you were asked to play the role of Court Temptress, seducing the Shadowsinger. The distraction tonight, a figure that no one could place, that would not be named.

“I know it’s a little intimidating,” you jumped slightly at Mor’s voice suddenly behind you. You turned to face her. “Remember it’s not too late to back out.”

You smiled at your friend. “It’s okay, the mask will definitely help.” In the spirit of the intended mystique, Rhys had a dancer’s veil fashioned as part of the outfit; a diadem draped with intricately organized gold coins that would cover your whole face save for your eyes.

Mor patiently waited to help with your hair and makeup while you changed into the outfit. You wore an off-shoulder corseted black bodice glittering with beadwork that replicated the night sky. Jewelled strings hung off the bottom in an overlaid formation, draped like necklaces resting on your exposed abdomen. The bottom was a matching chiffon black skirt that hung off your hips in a floor-length piece, one down the front and one down back, slitted to expose both your legs.

When you walked out wearing the two-piece ensemble, Mor squealed in delight, making you laugh. “Beautiful! It’s so perfect!” You sat at the vanity to let her do your hair. She curled it into generous waves that fell down your back, fixing the back of the diadem into your hair. “He’s going to love it,” she said as she finished your hair. You perked up, cheeks heating.

“Who?”

Mor rolled her eyes, smiling. “You know exactly who. I’ll be right back,” she winked and left your room. You continued to take yourself in the mirror. Despite your nerves, you couldn’t help but admire your look. The black lining your eyes in a fierce upward sweep, the thick lashes, the way the coins moved with your movements.

Most of all, you appreciated the way your eyes shone behind the gold coins decorating your face, reminding you of a creature of seduction. A siren.

A knock sounded on your door. “Come in,” you said to Mor, inspecting the various crescent moon and star jewels adorning the length of your hair. Mor didn’t say anything upon entering, the silence prompting you to turn and see what was wrong. Except it wasn’t Mor who stood in your room, taking you in.

It was Azriel.

His mouth was parted slightly in astonishment as he gently closed the door behind him. You stood to face him fully, feeling exposed under his inspecting gaze. His mouth closed, jaw clenching and unclenching as his eyes travelled down your form, then back up again. Thank God for the veil, you thought as pink tinted your cheeks.

“Wow,” he said, letting his eyes rake your form once more. “You look… you look stunning.”

You ducked your head at the compliment. “Thank you.”

When you looked up again, he was smiling fondly. “Come on, none of that.”

“What?”

“No bashfulness. Not tonight. Look at you,” he said, walking towards you. A smoky look appeared in his eyes as he held your gaze. “Beautiful,” he said lowly, making your gut twist.

You swallowed. “Thank you,” you repeated. You and Azriel had become best friends over the few months you’ve known each other. The kind of best friends that toed the line a lot, the kind with lingering gazes and extra caresses that they didn’t acknowledge.

“Mor said you needed help with the jewelry.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Did she now.”

Az smiled cheekily. “Don’t shoot the messenger. It’ll be a good warm-up for tonight.”

“Ah yes,” you mused. “My partner in crime for the night.”

You turned to face the vanity again in search of the jewelry. None was laid out, making you frown. You met Azriel’s gaze in the mirror. “Rhys had these custom-made,” Azriel said, pulling out a velvet box you hadn’t seen when he entered. You began turning to see the contents, but Azriel stopped you with a gentle grasp on your shoulder. He began retrieving the contents of the container; a set, you presumed. He looks beautiful too. He donned a black dress shirt and dress pants, the fabric straining under the movement of his muscles. His golden skin glowed in contrast to his dark attire. Azriel pulled out a celestial gold necklace, placing the container on your seat. He unclasped it and brought his hands over your head to place it on you. The pendant fell above the swell of your chest. You moved your hair up to allow him to clasp it in place, and he moved even closer to do so. If you leaned back even an inch, you’d feel his abdomen on your back. You’d feel his breath, feel his warmth. Just an inch –

“There.”

You snapped out of your trance, meeting his gaze again in the mirror. He gestured for you to turn with his finger. You turned and craned your neck back to compensate for his towering height. He gazed down at you before finally stepping back. He reached for more jewelry in the box, but you didn’t take your eyes off him as he did. He moved to your side, grasping your right wrist gently to pull your arm up. You did as he silently requested. He treacherously grazed the length of your raised arm with the back of his knuckles until he reached your bicep. There, he clasped a thin, golden cuff in place. He then met your gaze.

“Was that necessary?” you asked despite yourself.

“Oh, yes,” he smiled.

You rolled your eyes, once again saying a prayer of thanks for the veil masking your blush.

He walked to the other side of you and placed the matching cuff in place. You reached into the box and began stacking rings on your fingers to distract yourself. He then held out a bracelet between his fingers, allowing you to rest your wrist on it for him to secure it. He repeated the motion with the second bracelet. You didn’t mind being under his care like this, you thought. “Is that all of it?”

He met your gaze, and that intensity from before came to life in his eyes again. “No.” He reached for the final piece in the box.

You frowned at it in confusion. “What is that?”

“It’s for your thigh.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh.” You took it from his hands and bent to clasp it around your upper thigh. You struggled to clasp it behind your thigh while keeping the chains draping in correct formation, prompting you to begin again and again.

Azriel placed a gentle hand on your wrist. “Let me,” he said. You gave him the chain.

To your shock, Azriel dropped to one knee. The gesture was startlingly intimate, making you hesitate. “Az, you don’t have to do that.” He just shook his head, brushing off your worry. He clasped it in place easily. When he finished, he didn’t immediately rise as you expected.

He gingerly grasped the backs of your calves, meeting your gaze. “Nervous?”

You tried to compose yourself. “What?” Your breathlessness betrayed you, though he didn’t comment on it.

“For tonight,” he clarified.

As if you could focus with his hands grasping you gently. “A little bit.”

He smiled, fondness snuffing out the previous look of fervour. “You don’t need to be. Let them see you as I see you.”

You dared voice your question. “How do you see me.”

“Beautiful, clever, charming.”

Despite his praise, despite what it did to your heart, you felt your nerves arise. “I don’t know if I can do this, Az.”

He stood at your admission. You kept your gaze lowered, prompting him to raise your chin gently to meet his gaze once more. “You can,” he said. The certainty in his voice made you believe he meant it. “I’ll be wearing a mask too,” he said softly.

“What mask?”

He smiled again. “The big bad Shadowsinger mask.” That made you laugh, easing your nerves. “I’m going to be acting very unfeeling and ravenous.”

“Big words,” you smiled up at him.

“Indeed,” he smiled back.

Silence fell upon the two of you as you looked at each other. This wasn’t uncommon, though neither of you ever acknowledged it. “What’ll it be like when I walk in?” You broke the silence.

Azriel’s eyes glinted with something predatory. “They’ll be on their knees for you. As any male should be.”

The thrill that went through you had you raising your chin. “Is that so?”

Azriel smiled, all masculine satisfaction. “Did I not just give you a demonstration?”

You smiled coyly despite the butterflies in your stomach. “I suppose.”

Another silence fell, though you had no intention of breaking it this time. Azriel reached to the veil on your face, gingerly tracing the coin above your mouth. You watched as he did, wanting to see what he’d do next –

“(Y/N), we’re leaving in five,” Mor shouted from outside, knocking on your door. You startled, stepping back. You looked back to Azriel. He gave you a nod, then turned and lead the way to meet the rest of the group outside.

Upon entering the foyer, you found everyone standing getting ready to winnow. They turned to you as you arrived with Azriel. Cassian let out a wolf whistle, making you laugh. “You’re a knockout,” he said.

You gave him a cheeky raise of your shoulder, grinning at him. Rhys and Feyre were smiling at you, though you knew you wouldn’t be seeing those smiles when they’d ascend the Court of Nightmares throne. “I knew you’d be perfect,” Feyre said.

“It’ll be a good look for Az, too,” Cassian said, wiggling his brows suggestively, making you laugh. A reminder about your intended role for tonight. Not just any Temptress, but Azriel’s.

“Remind me again why I’m assigned to Az?” you asked.

Rhys’s mischievous smile had you immediately regretting the question. “Because you two can just look at each other exactly as you do anyways, and it’ll get the job done.” You glared and gave your High Lord the middle finger, making Feyre and Cassian laugh as Rhys continued to smugly smirk at you.

“Slanderous allegations,” Azriel quipped. You turned to look at him, and he only winked at you with a crooked grin. You went to elbow him, but he easily caught your elbow before impact, returning your arm in place.

“They make it too easy,” Feyre said to Cassian who nodded easily.

“Whatever,” you said.

“Ready?” Mor asked.

You took a deep breath, remembering what Azriel said to you. They’ll be on their knees for you. “Ready.” You took her hand, Azriel took the other, and the world disappeared.

You found yourselves in the antechamber leading to the throne room, prompting everyone to put on their subjective masks; the cruel, tyrannical inner circle outsiders believed you all to be. Cassian was to enter first along with Azriel, then Amren, Mor, Nesta, and Elain. Rhys and Feyre would follow, and you’d be the last one in.

Azriel turned to you as everyone prepared themselves. “Remember what I said,” he spoke softly with no trace of humour. “When you walk in, just keep your eyes on me. Don’t worry about anyone else.” You nodded.

A hushed silence overtook the room as each member walked in. When Rhys and Feyre made their way in, you heard vague shifting. They’re kneeling, you realized. As your high lord and lady made their way to the thrones, you walked to the threshold of the throne room, taking it all in.

Someone inside began playing slow, mesmerizing music. Notes from a violin, then the slow, rhythmic beat of drums that you felt in your bones. Your friends flanked the thrones. You remained standing where you were, letting the music wash over you as you watched Feyre and Rhys finally ascend onto their thrones. They sat, though Rhys made no move to address the room. The court remained on their knees, parted on either side of the walkway like a sea.

An energy passes through you that’s equally as nerve-racking as it was thrilling, making you shiver. A siren, you said to yourself. Be a siren. You caught Azriel’s eye watching you from where he stood to the right of Rhys’s throne. Despite the mask he donned, his face cold and calculating, all hard lines and taut jaw, you saw the slightest smirk uplift the corner of his mouth, as if he were saying I told you they’d be on their knees. You steeled your nerves, drawing strength from Azriel. The male you loved so dearly, who called you so many pretty things tonight that you lost count.

You let your body go lax, stepping into the threshold of the room. You followed the beat of the sensual music, letting your hips sway as you walked in, keeping your arms relaxed at your sides. Temptress, you reminded yourself. With all eyes on you, you fell into the necessary headspace and sauntered over to the throne.

When you finally reached the throne, you fell to their feet in an exaggerated curtesy, your skirts fluttering dramatically around you. Only then did Rhys finally allow everyone to stand. “Rise,” he said simply. Everyone did except for you, where you continued to sit on the floor of their thrones, though you did look over your shoulder to the room and found that all eyes remained on you. You adjusted your position with full intention to find a more comfortable seat, turning to face the room. You leaned lazily with your back on the middle of their thrones, extending your feet and making a show of rearranging your skirts over your legs.

It was then that Kier came to address his high lord and lady. They spoke, Kier’s animosity barely concealed, Rhys and Feyre’s unhidden. Kier’s gaze kept flitting back to you in distaste, which you knew your friends noted. “We brought you a gift since you’ve been so obedient lately,” Rhys said. That was your cue.

“Isn’t she lovely?” Feyre asked as you stood.

Kier looked you over, clearly unimpressed, but simply said, “yes. Lovely.”

“Dance for us,” Feyre told you. You obeyed, stepping around Kier like he was a stranger on the street. You made your way to the middle of the room. The music picked up, the rhythm was loud and soothing. You fell into a sway, winding your arms around you gracefully. You dropped your hips rhythmically, following the sound of the drums. Once again, all eyes were on you. The distraction was working, allowing Mor to slip out and retrieve the orb that was needed. Don’t be nervous, you heard Feyre speak in your mind. Just look at how he looks at you.

You dared look back to find Azriel’s gaze between your slow, sensual twirls. Sure enough, he could barely conceal the hunger in his eyes. His head was slightly elevated, giving his eyes a heavy-lidded fall. Bedroom eyes, whether that was part of his mask or not. He’s just playing his role, you replied to Feyre in your mind.

I promise you there’s nothing ingenuine in his look, she whispered back. At that, you matched the look he was giving you, raising your chin as you danced and lazily took him in. But not for too long, as you twirled away, letting the whispers commence. Under his wistful stare, you finished your dance number, the music ending. You remained where you were, still holding everyone’s attention. The court applauded, and you turned to make your way back to the thrones.

You fell back to your previous position at their thrones. Feyre poured a glass of wine for you herself, giving you a pleased smile. You were wonderful.

You drank, letting yourself cool down in the chilly air of the courtroom. Rhys asked for food to be brought out; on his command, tables filled with food appeared, but everyone waited for the inner circle to first take their places. You stood, waited for Rhys and Feyre to sit, then followed your friends. The table laid in front of the throne only had eight seats. You hid your confusion, looking to Cassian as he took his seat. He simply winked at you and gave a small smile. Then it dawned on you. Azriel’s temptress.

You’d be seated in his lap.

Sure enough, Azriel turned to you, silently summoning you over. You walked over and took your seat, sitting on his left thigh, your own thighs falling on either side of his leg. He was so large that even on his lap, you weren’t at his eye level. He brought his arm and lazily wrapped it around your hips. You kept your composure externally, though any bravado from before melted away internally. Though he was your best friend, though affection wasn’t rare between the two of you – hell, he even put your jewelry on you himself earlier – this was certainly new.

Once you’ve adjusted, you feel yourself relax into his chest. Only then does Azriel let his hand fall onto your leg. His hand is substantially warmer than your leg, and he notices this because you feel his shadows gently stroke up your legs in an attempt to warm you. You put your hand over his and squeeze it in silent thanks.

His right hand brought food to your mouth before you could protest. You move your coined veil with your free hand, opening your mouth. He places a grape in your mouth, fingers shamelessly grazing your lips as he did. You don’t stop him. He continues to feed you, and for a moment, you wonder if any element of the alleged masks were truly inhibitory, or if in reality all they did was allow the two of you to be more authentic with each other than you would otherwise dare. A tempting contradiction to mull over as you ate grapes directly off his fingers, relishing in the warmth of his body encapsulating you.

You continued to eat, occasionally drinking wine between bites. Azriel’s hand resting on your thigh slowly makes its way up your leg, over your hip, and then drags across your abdomen. You sigh quietly at the sensation, only loud enough for him to hear. That sets Kier off. He leans over to a vizier. “He’s hand-feeding his harlot.”

Before you could even turn, you hear Kier sputter. Then you hear glass breaking. You begin to turn, but Azriel stops you by squeezing your waist. “Don’t,” he whispers. You turn to look at him.

You hold each other’s gaze, and he simply brings another grape up to your mouth, which you accept. The sputtering sound turns into outright gagging and coughing. Azriel is choking Kier, you realized. With his shadows. The rest of the court halts their eating to watch Kier struggle to breathe, clawing at his throat while Azriel keeps his eyes on you. Kier manages to wheeze out an apology. Only then do you hear him exhale in relief, breathing raggedly.

You don’t deign to look at Kier, but you do peer over to Rhys. He hadn’t objected to the punishment. “Ever the mouth breather,” he said simply. Everyone returned to their food at that.

You look back to Azriel who was still watching you. He drew lazy circles with his fingers on your abdomen. “It’s just you and me,” he murmured lowly in his baritone voice for only your ears to detect. You nodded once in agreement. Just you and me.

Back at the house, everyone was lounging on the couches in the living room, in no rush to get up after all the drinking. You’d removed the diadem upon arrival. “You did such a good job,” Mor praised you. You saluted your friend with two fingers. Everyone was tired at the late hour, but you were still buzzing with energy. Azriel was sitting next to you on your couch, an arm draped behind you on the couch. Whatever leash the two of you had kept on your friendship had been released tonight. Cassian lazily looks over at you and gives you a pointed smile. You just shrug and smile back.

Rhys praises the group on their good work, takes Feyre’s hand, and they head to their room. One by one, everyone follows suit. Cassian and Nesta, then the remaining females. Alone with Azriel, you turn to look at him. In the continuity of this evening, you found him already gazing at you. Sure enough, that hunger you noted in the court of nightmares was waiting for you in his eyes.

“Nice and ravenous,” you joked. He gave a relaxed smile, catching your echo of his earlier words.

“Indeed.” He held your gaze. “You did amazing,” he said more seriously.

“You helped me feel comfortable,” you told him. His hungry eyes burned into your own. You swallowed. “Maybe you can help me out of all these jewels.”

He didn’t so much as blink. “It would be my pleasure.” You get up off the couch and he does as well. You take his hand and lead him to your room.

You turned your faelight on, the rest of the room remaining dark. He came up behind you, placing his hands on your hips. He bent down and places a kiss on your exposed shoulders, trailing the kisses up towards your neck. You let yourself sag into his body, taking off your rings. His hands move up your sides, onto your arms. He repeats his earlier motion of grazing up your arms until he reaches your gold cuffs. He released them without raising his head. You took off your bracelets.

He circled to your front, holding your gaze, and he sank to his knees. Bringing his hands to your knees again, they slowly moved up your legs, cupping your thighs from behind, making you shiver. He reached for your thigh jewelry, unclasped it, and he bent forward to place a kiss where it had been. His hands continued their upward path, making their way to your hips once more. He leaned in closer, placing another kiss, this time on your belly. He pulled you closer to him by the hips, making you gasp as your back arched. He trailed more kisses up your abdomen. You put your hands in his hair, nails grazing his scalp.

He stood once more, making you peer up at him. You caught sight of his dilated pupils. He pulled you to him by the waist, bending forward once more to trail kisses up your neck. When he reached your jaw, your eyes were too heavy to keep open. He finally pressed his lips to yours feverishly kissing you.

He walked the two of you back towards your bed. To your dismay, he broke off the kiss, breathless. “You ate fruit off my fingers,” he rasped. You nodded, dazed. The backs of your knees hit your bed, making you fall back into it. Azriel simply sunk back onto his knees for the third time that night, grasping your knees, and pulling them apart. “I have every intention of also being fed.”

I drew inspiration from my culture w the implied bellydancing and attire. :)

taglist:

@iimisty-a @feyretopia @cityofidek

#azriel x reader #ACOTAR universe

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justreadingthings · 20 days

Text

no nO NO! You’re gonna make my Azriel crush so much worse!!!

I love this! You’ve captured Azriel so well, and I love your writing style. Thank you for sharing this 💙

Tight Enough

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Synopsis: Reader needs help tightening her corset and no one's around to help but Azriel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shit,” you breathed, pulling at the laces awkwardly around your waist, trying and failing to tighten your corset. You shifted them around your shoulders, hoping it’d provide sufficient pulleying. You bowed forward, yanking.

Still not enough.

You huffed. You’d been at this for upwards of twenty minutes, hauling and tugging in all kinds of positions til your hands shook.

For all the gentlemanliness and compassion in Rhys and Cassian, you entirely refused to ask mated men to assist you.

Tying the laces onto the doorknob, you tried letting your body fall in the opposite direction. Your feet slid against the tile as you pivoted, nearly tripping. “Shit.”

This was so fucked.

A gentle knock on the door startled you. “Y/N?”

Azriel.

Fuck.

You scrambled to untie the laces from the doorknob. “Yes?”

“Cass and Rhys stepped out for a bit. Are you alright?”

Fuck.

You scrubbed at your face. This was the outcome you’d been avoiding above all. Worse than the mated men. Mated my ass. You should’ve bit your tongue and asked Cass for help.

“Y/N?” he asked again at your silence.

“Sorry,” you breathed, heart racing.

You cracked open the bathroom door, peering up at him. He searched your eyes patiently as you searched for your courage. “I can’t get my corset on,” you admitted quietly.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, eyes marginally widening.

You shook your head. “It’s fine,” you said quickly, voice tight. “I’ll just—I’ll try—”

“I can help,” he offered softly.

You looked up at him again, eyes pleading. Turn him down. “I—” you swallowed. Turn him down. A glance at the wall behind him with a clock revealed you were even later than you thought. Turn him down. You bit your lip and steeled your spine. Fuck. You were really doing this. “Okay,” you whispered, like you could hide the admission from even yourself.

He gave a slight nod of encouragement, stepping aside to let you come out.

“I—let me—one second,” you stammered, closing the door.

You were still undressed.

Right.

Another huff of indignation as you yanked on a slip to cover your bare legs. This was fine, right? It was just help he was offering. Necessary help.

You took a steadying breath and walked out of the bathroom.

Azriel had moved to stand near the fireplace, watching it with his back to you, like it would offer you privacy. He could surely see your panicked mortification.

You padded to him, placing a hand softly on his elbow to let him know you were ready.

He turned, face carefully neutral as he took in the sight of you.

Where corsets were typically worn over shifts, this one was fashioned to sit directly upon your skin. So you stood before Azriel, flushed cheeks and fidgeting fingers in just your corset and a skirt.

Azriel focused his gaze strictly on your face, didn’t dare let it fall to where the flesh of your breasts generously spilled over the delicate lace trim adorning the hem. Didn’t allow a glance at the thin shift mercifully—barely—covering your legs.

He’d never seen you so undressed.

You shifted your weight between feet beneath his hefty gaze. “Usually, Nuala or Ceridwen or Mor help me,” your voice was still tight. “I’ve never had to do it by myself.”

Azriel nodded. Your skin had a slight sheen to it in the light of the fire. A few pieces of hair had fallen out of your intricate upswept style, curling at the nape of your neck. Azriel might have bitten back a laugh at the endearing sight, at the physical evidence of your struggle—had you not struck him dumb with how beautiful you looked.

How you allowed him to bear witness to your exposed skin, to this intimacy.

He was no stranger to corsets—hell, he’d taken women wearing lingerie that made your attire look like a priestess’s robe, and yet—

He shook his head. This was just help. No matter how lovely you were.

He cleared his throat. He needed you to turn. “Would you—” He twisted a finger in the air, unsure how to ask.

“Oh,” you breathed, still donning that pretty blush on your cheeks. You took another step toward him, turning at last.

With the absence of your imploring gaze—one he’d scarcely forget—Azriel exhaled, allowed himself an assessing glimpse down your form presented before him. He bit back a curse. The laces across the length of the corset were haphazardly pulled. He wondered how Rhys overlooked something like this that clearly required assistance. The spaces between the undone laces revealed your bare back, curving all the way down to the slip resting on your backside.

He didn’t know how to begin touching you.

“Az?” you asked, voice still thin, your nervousness anything but subtle. But you’d been comfortable enough to ask him for help, and that made his heart soar.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat again. Raised his hands hesitantly; a silent deep breath, and he began.

He carefully pulled at the laces starting from the top of your corset, loosening them to correctly adjust their security. Azriel keenly tried his best to pick up each lace without touching your skin. Tried not to consider how creamy it felt when he did graze skin, how warm and perfect. When he’d finished working his way down, he began tugging at the string to tighten it properly.

At the first firm tug, you gasped, stumbling backwards into him. “Oh,” you stepped away hastily. You’d landed directly onto his abdomen, trapping his hands between your bodies. Your own hands had landed on his thighs, bracing yourself. “I’m sorry, Azriel.”

“It’s alright.” Azriel tried not to think about how your softness felt. “It’s my fault.” He couldn’t recall the last time he’d helped a female with her corset.

You looked at him over your shoulder, doing funny things to his heart again with your eyes. “We need a bedpost.” There was sheepish mirth lighting your eyes, displacing the anxiety from before. He managed a reassuring smile back and nodded.

You walked to Cassian’s bed in the inn room you were sharing, gripping the post for stability. Azriel dutifully returned to your back, and you tried not to think about how the warmth from his body radiated so easily into yours from your proximity. How careful he was being with his hands, doing everything to make you more comfortable.

He yanked gently in warning. When you remained sturdily in your spot, his pulling grew stronger, working his way down. When he neared the base of your spine, he began tying the lace. Your hands moved to your waist, feeling snug but not quite as tight-laced as you’d wanted.

You turned to peer at him over your shoulder again. He met your eye in question. “Um, I was hoping to wear it a little tighter,” you admitted.

“Tighter than this?” His brows rose.

You nodded.

He undid the knot, pulling the laces tighter as per your request, waiting for approval.

Once again, you caressed your waist, pushing the corset to feel its give.

“Is it tight enough?” he asked, voice gravely.

“Can I have one more inch?” you asked, and he internally composed himself.

“I don’t know if it would work,” he said.

“Here,” you released your waist, reaching behind, wiggling your fingers for his hands. Azriel extended his hands to hover on either side of your waist, allowing you to guide them on your waist. You pushed onto his hands, making him squeeze your waist. “Can you hold it there?” you asked.

Azriel swallowed, holding your waist tightly, pressing the corset tighter to your body as you reached behind, pulling the untied lace. He tracked your every move, every careful twist of your fingers, how your arms brushed against his hands. Your hands worked dangerously close to his body as you worked to secure the ties at last.

When you finished, he regretfully released you, allowing you to turn, standing between him and the bedpost. He braced himself for the onslaught of your stare, the way he knew you’d look up at him.

Where there’d previously been jittery nervousness, there was something in your eyes now that set his nervousness off. A sense of open depth that swallowed him whole as you took him in. “Thank you,” you breathed. A small smile tugged your lips up.

He wanted to admit something stupidly vulnerable, like thank you for trusting me. So instead, he took a step back, ducked his head, and said, “You’re welcome.”

That pretty, trustful look returned to your eyes, a look he’d do anything to keep others from seeing. “Maybe you can help me zip up my dress too?” Your playful glint had him smiling back.

“Of course.”

You hurried to the bathroom and rustled for a bit before returning to him with the top half of a floor-length, black evening gown hanging off your torso. You stood before him, more confidently than before, and Azriel took his time zipping it up, tucking away the corset. Tucking away the knowledge, the memory of it. It was all his to cherish.

As you put your heels on, a knock sounded on the door. Azriel opened it to find Rhys and Cassian conveniently ready to go, all smug smirks.

“Sorry for making us late,” you said, rushing up behind Azriel. “I had a hard time getting dressed.” Azriel stepped aside, allowing you to exit, taking Cassian’s arm.

Rhys mockingly tsked. “Sorry to hear that. How’d you manage?”

“Azriel helped,” you said over your shoulder.

“Well, thank goodness for Azriel,” Rhys winked at him.

Azriel stood stunned, staring in disbelief at Rhys until you looked back at him blushing, a shy smile knocking the breath from his lungs.

“Yes. Thank goodness for Azriel.”

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @riddlesb1tch @cullenswifezz222 @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @emotionless-lover @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @banasheefan56 @nyotamalfoy @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @lilah-asteria

(lmk if your urls changed, sorry some of them don't work!)

#azriel x reader #ACOTAR universe

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justreadingthings · 22 days

Text

This is absolutely perfectly imperfect! Really, nothing is perfect and I love that you’re not pushing it into being so. This is so good 🥰

Joel is someone who spends too much time in his own head— too many thoughts at all times. But especially when it’s his first time with you.

He likes you. A lot. There’s no denying how much so either, based purely on how much he enjoys spending time with you and how much Sarah likes you. he truly connects with you, deciding you both want to keeping exploring where things go.

Things progress slowly, a mutual worry about rushing to quickly before either of you is ready. Over the course of a few months, many dates have been shared. Each one solidifying the growing desire between the two of you. Making out in his truck, on the couch, tucked away from prying eyes in his laundry room after a summer barbecue.

His nerves are shot the night you both decide to take things further when Sarah is away at a friend’s place for the weekend.

Needing everything to be perfect— for you. Worrying how great he’ll even be since it’s been quite some time since he’s been with someone .

Expect it’s everything but perfect.

It’s awkwardness and concern. Even more so, Joel’s mind is riddled with anxiety about his performance.

Are you enjoying yourself? Do you feel okay? Is your body liking the things he’s doing? Does he still turn you on now that things have moved into this territory? Should he be doing those things that he’s seen in the porn he’s watched?

You sense the fear right away. A waterfall of apologies cascading from his mouth left and right. When he slips out of you mid thrust. When his nose knocks into your eye. When he mistakes your zealous whine for shrilled pain. When he feels like things are taking longer than they should.

He stills when you look up at him with a smile. Your hand coming up to caress his flushed cheek and he can’t help but smile back at you.

You tell him there’s no rush to finish and all the things you’re enjoying. That you’re more than happy to take your time and figure out what works and what doesn’t. You tell him that you like all of him and he doesn’t need to be anyone but himself.

He relaxes into your touch, grateful you’re not running out the door and hightailing out of the driveway, never wanting to see him again.

His kisses are driven with more confidence. His touch deliberate but sweet. Praise and guidance exclaimed with elated satisfaction. It’s perfectly imperfect.

The room is bathed in a sheen of moonlight. He tells you how beautiful you are. His favorite thing about you. The things he can’t stop thinking about when you’re apart. He tells you how he hasn’t felt this way about someone in a long time and he thinks he might be falling for you.

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #nsfw

967 notes · View notes

justreadingthings · 26 days

Text

ALL I CAN SAY IS I WAS

ENCHANTED TO MEET YOOUUUUUUU!!!

This is so good! You included such beautiful detail, and I could see everything going on! I love it! I’m gonna imagine that he uses is skills as a bounty hunter to see her again 🤭 thank you for sharing this, lovely! 💙

Enchanted to Meet You

Security Guard!Din Djarin x Senator/F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: Inspired by Enchanted by Taylor Swift! Part of the Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! This is also way more than a drabble and possibly some of my favorite smut I’ve ever written?!?!

Summary: You’re a senator for the New Republic and tonight you’re forced to attend the New Republic Gala. Senator Xiono won’t leave you alone but that in turn leads you to meet Mando, a security guard at the event. And that leaves you wonderstruck.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, reader has consumed alcohol, creepy guy at the gala, fingering, semi public sex, vaginal sex, pull out method, pet names (cyar’ika, mesh’la), no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Small talk. Painful small talk. Your cheeks hurt from faking smiles and pretending to nod at people’s boring anecdotes. If you fake laugh at one more unfunny story you’re going to lose it. Everyone here is so insincere, only here to further their own political gain. It’s a gala for the New Republic, sure but what happened to the social aspect of it? It just feels fake, like the whole thing is a facade.

The only thing that makes tonight semi-bearable is your dress– midnight blue chiffon with silver stars embroidered throughout the fabric. A dress that you’d like to meet someone in if you weren’t surrounded by self-absorbed politicians.

The gala is decorated extravagantly. The lights on the dance floor reflect gorgeously off your dress and your jewelry. The music is actually quite catchy for a party full of bureaucrats. And the multiple rounds of revnog are certainly helping you loosen up.

If only you had someone to share it all with.

You don’t feel like you fit in here. Most of the senators are Coruscant, Chandrila, and other Core planets. You’re from Naboo and that makes you feel like an outsider among the Galaxy’s elite.

A tap on your shoulder interrupts your train of thought.

“Care to dance?”

You turn around, the skirt of your dress swaying with the motion, and find Senator Hamato Xiono.

“With you? Not a chance.”

“Aw, come on. Perfect opportunity to talk trade routes. The music, the lights… it might make you think differently about voting no on my proposal.”

“Because your proposal lacks any real research.”

“You’ll change your mind once I’m done with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, stepping towards you and grabbing your arm.

You attempt to pull away from him but his grip is tight, snug around your wrist. The blood drains from your face and adrenaline courses through you. He’s trying to talk about politics now… at a party? And on top of all that he put his kriffing hands on you.

“Is there a problem here?” a sultry-toned voice asks.

You look to your left and find a man wearing silver armor. Tall, broad, an absolute unit. His face is concealed by a helmet that matches the rest of his armor, a T-shaped visor running down the middle.

Senator Xiono lets go of your wrist and you let it fall to your side. His touch leaves tingling marks on your skin, and not the good kind.

“Nope. We’re fine. Aren’t we?” Senator Xiono asks, a fake smile gracing his face.

You look at him and then back at the strange masked man before saying, “I need some air.”

You walk past both of them, your ears ringing with anger as the other partygoers' faces blur around you. The adrenaline doesn’t start to subside until the cool nighttime air hits your face.

Alone on the balcony, leaning against the railing and looking at the sea of speeders beneath you. Deep breaths and counting to ten calm you down. And once your mind is finally clear you ask yourself… Who was that man?

“Are you alright?” the same silky voice as before asks.

You don’t have to see him to know who it is but you turn around anyway, meeting his visor.

“I’m fine… But thank you for checking on me,” you say before glancing at the view of Coruscant again. Your hands grip the cool metal railing and the wind causes goosebumps to prick your skin.

“...Who are you?” you ask, still not looking at him.

“I was hired as security for the event,” he says, not saying who he really is.

“I see…”

You sense him standing next to you at the railing, matching the same pose you’re making, his gloved hand so dangerously close to yours.

“Thanks for stepping in back there,” you say, turning your head and looking at him. Your eyes are always drawn to his visor. It should be unsettling looking at something without a discernible face. And yet all it does is intrigue you.

“He was disrespecting you.”

“He tends to do that.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“I’m sure you deal with much worse… Are you always doing security?”

“I’m a bounty hunter,” he says, turning to face you.

“A bounty hunter?” you ask, facing him too, your eyes widening.

“Mhm.”

You’re not sure why… but that excites you. It’s a contrast from your boring day-to-day routine of paperwork and meetings– a life on your own, living by no one’s rules.

“Tell me more about that.”

He gestures to a bench in the center of the balcony where you follow him, sitting side by side, thighs touching ever so slightly. You listen to him recount fascinating stories, ones where he’s brave and slaying countless people left and right. But he also tells you a story about the time he was bested by a blurgg. He makes you laugh. And surprisingly he laughs, too.

Maker, his laugh.

You’ve only just met him yet his laugh is like music to your ears. The conversation is so natural, so easygoing. You feel like you can be yourself around him. You hope he feels the same way about you. Your mind starts to wander… What does he look like underneath the helmet?

“Can I tell you something?” you say.

“What?”

“I wish I could kiss you.”

“...Really?”

“But you can’t take off the helmet.”

“You’re right. It’s a part of my creed.”

He pauses for a moment before saying, “Let me show you other things I can do.”

He rises from the bench and extends his hand out to you. You take it, interlocking your fingers with his as he leads you back inside. He pushes through crowds of people, leading you down a hallway and into a refresher.

He locks the door and turns to face you, looking you up and down as he walks closer to you. You take a step back and feel your back touch the sink. His hands ghost your waist and his helmet cocks to the side.

“Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” you breathe out.

His hands slide up your waist, caressing the outline of your breasts.

“I may not be able to kiss you… But I can show you a good time.”

He spins you around so you’re facing the mirror. Excitement pools between your legs as you watch him hike up your dress. Not once did you think you’d be having sex in this dress, let alone in the refresher at the gala.

He leans forward and whispers in your ear, “Bend over for me, cyar’ika.”

You follow his instructions, internally wondering what the nickname means.

“No underwear?” he asks once your lower half is fully exposed, “Naughty girl.”

You giggle and rest against the sink, gripping the ceramic as he tugs off his glove. He lifts his helmet for a split second, just barely enough to expose his mouth. You close your eyes out of respect and hear him spit in his hand. Once you feel his fingers tease your entrance you open your eyes. His helmet is secured on his head and his body leans over yours, a finger sliding inside you slowly. A small gasp escapes your lips. He barely gives you any time to warm up to one finger before sliding in the second. Not that you’re complaining. He curls his fingers against your walls, pushing against your g-spot. Your moans fill the refresher, gradually getting louder and louder as he brings you closer to the edge.

“Shhh,” he whispers in your ear, “Be quiet, mesh’la. There are people in the hallway.”

Another nickname.

You bite your lip and meet his visor in the reflection of the mirror, doing your best to not make too much noise. He pulls your first orgasm from you, knees trembling beneath you as you grip the sink. You bite your lip harder and try to be quiet but it’s hard. It’s too hard when he’s making you feel this good. He’s so skilled with just his fingers but you suppose it makes sense given the helmet.

Once you’re done coming he pulls his fingers from you, one hand holding your hip as the other slathers his cock with the wetness you just produced. He leans forward again and whispers, “Got so wet for me, cyar’ika. I’m not even done with you yet,” just as he thrust his cock into you.

A sharp gasp of surprise escapes your lips. He’s large, splitting you apart. If it weren’t for the sink holding you up your knees would surely give out. Your entire body trembles with pleasure and he hasn’t even moved inside you yet.

You bite your lip again as he draws his hips back, slamming into you swiftly. It’s too hard to be quiet. A whimper forces its way out of your throat. And then again as he thrusts into you a second time. Staying quiet is impossible as he’s railing you. You watch him in the reflection, stone-cold visor staring back at you as you’re reduced to a shivering mess beneath him. Yet he remains his composure, his pace never faltering.

You wonder what his cock looks like; a clue as to what the rest of him looks like. He wasn’t kidding when he said he could show you all the other things he can do. His cock hits the most perfect angles inside you. And the refresher is not only filled with your moans but also the wet squelching sounds of your cunt.

Your walls tense up in anticipation of a release. And though your second orgasm hasn’t happened yet you know this one is going to be bigger than the last, thanks to his impressive size. But aside from the sheer size of his cock he knows how to use it. He knows how to melt you into a puddle, putty in his hands as you’re brought to the edge of orgasm.

With one last thrust of his hips, you’re coming around his cock. You’re fully whining and moaning now, bordering on screaming. For a moment you forget you’re in a public refresher, completely blissed out. He doesn’t remind you to keep quiet this time, watching your face in the mirror as you cum.

“Good girl,” he praises, slapping your ass with his bare hand. You let out another small gasp but it’s cut off by a moan of pleasure. He continues thrusting into you through your high, prolonging it even further. Stars dance in your vision and there’s a strange haze around Mando in the reflection. This…. This is euphoria. All from a man you just met tonight.

He hangs on until you’re done coming, pulling out of you right before he comes. He paints your ass with his release, a modulated groan slipping out from under the helmet. You wish you could see his face as he cums. You can only imagine what he looks like, eyes closed and mouth open as cum leaks from his cock.

Once he’s done he quickly reaches for a towel, cleaning up the mess on your ass. He tosses it in the trash and helps you stand upright as you smooth down the skirt of your dress.

“That was incredible,” you breathe out, voice still high-pitched from your two climaxes tonight.

He grabs your hand, thumb rubbing against yours. You glance down at his bare hand and you’re greeted with tan skin. You can’t help but wonder about him, more of his story, more of what he looks like. You could’ve stayed on the balcony and talked with him for hours. But you’re not complaining about what just happened either.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, cyar’ika,” he says.

But before either of you can ask what that and the other nickname means, there’s a knock on the door.

“Mando? Are you in there? You’re needed on the dance floor. There’s been an incident,” a man’s voice says.

“I’m sorry…” he says, putting his cock away and bending down to grab his other glove, “I’ll find you after?”

“I’m okay! Go do your job,” you tell him.

He lingers for a moment, looking at you one last time before leaving the refresher and meeting whoever is in the hallway. You hang back for a moment until they’re both gone.

You glance at yourself in the mirror, ensuring you’re presentable before returning to the gala. There’s a bunch of commotion and groups of people are being ushered out. It must’ve ended early due to whatever incident happened on the dance floor. It’s all so overwhelming, loud noises and bustling crowds of people.

You spot Mando, talking to none other than Senator Xiono and another small group of people. You roll your eyes. Mon Mothma’s going to have to reprimand him. You figure you’ll just wait around until Mando’s done but another security guard comes up behind you and shouts.

“Everyone out! Party’s over!” he shouts, ushering you out with the sea of people. You open your mouth to protest but he shouts, “Let’s go! Get a move on!”

You glance over your shoulder at Mando, who’s still talking to Senator Xiono. His hands are on his hips as Senator Xiono argues with him. Mon Mothma’s there too now. It looks like he’ll be a while much to your dismay.

You follow the crowd outside, trying to wait on the platform for Mando but yet again security guards are ushering people into speeders. It isn’t until a guard practically shoves you into one that you accept your fate. You’re leaving whether you like it or not.

You stare at the tapestry of stars above you, replaying the night’s events. You were dreading coming to this event and here you are leaving… enchanted; wonderstruck. As the speeder takes you back to your hotel you wonder to yourself…

When will you see him again? Is he promised to someone else? Is there some other woman waiting on him somewhere else in the Galaxy? What did those nicknames mean?

The walk to your room is spent with your cheeks on fire, staring at the floor smiling, giddy like a little kid. Tonight was magical, flawless up until you were ripped away from each other too soon.

There’s one thing for certain, you were enchanted to meet him.

#din djarin x reader #pedro pascal characters #nsfw

317 notes · View notes

justreadingthings · 27 days

Text

This is gorgeous, babe! I love that Ellie establishes a relationship with her first, and her caring about both of them so much leads to them ending up together! Of course Ellie’s gonna knock some sense into Joel when he’s being dumb.

I can’t get over this one sentence that you wrote-

“As your eyes meet, a peculiar sense of recognition passes between you, as if you've crossed paths in another life.”

It’s so beautiful, and opened up my brain to possibilities both real and fictionally! Thank you for sharing, lovely 🥰

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘

ㅤㅤjoel miller x plus size!f!reader

genre: romance, flowershop au, jackson era, minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: you own a small flower shop in Jackson, when Ellie comes to visit, your life inevitably becomes tangled with the man who cares for her; joel miller.

warnings: age gap, piv in the middle of a flower field, no one sees, praise kink, some angst because joel, oral (fem receiving)

a/n: hello everyone! it's been a while and honestly, life has been kicking me in the gut lately with everything its got.

This originally was a commission, reader had a name and I've been working at it for months but sadly the person who commissioned be backed out last second saying they weren't interested anymore meaning I'm not getting paid for this work. Again, it's on me. Admittedly I've been slow on commissions due to my living situation and work and I should've taken half the payment upfront but trusting it was a joel fic I didn't really take extra precautions.

I decided to share it anyway, and the person who commissioned me said that I could. Any kind of writing has been hard for me to do lately and I really like how this one turned out. But since now I'm not getting paid for this work I decided to take out readers name and make some changes to the overall plot that I was given.

Sadly, I can't take any more commissions at the moment before finishing the ones I have left, but I'd be grateful for any kind of support you guys can give. I need to move out this summer (if I don't, I don't have a shadow of a doubt that my aunts will tell me to leave anyway) and I've been trying to save up as much as I can. Everything just has been a lot lately and I'm feeling anxious about my decisions and lost.

Again, any kind of support is greatly appreciated even tho I know I don't deserve it at this time:

my kofi

**dividers by @saradika-graphics 💜

You unlock the door to your quaint flower shop, the antique bell that you found and Tommy fixed chiming softly in greeting. Stepping outside, you're immediately embraced by the warmth of the morning sun, its golden rays dancing playfully on your skin. The air carries the unmistakable scent of spring, a delicate blend of fresh blossoms and earthy notes that fills your lungs with every inhale.

Dressed in a flowing dress, you feel perfectly in tune with the season as you begin arranging the colorful array of flowers on display outside your shop. The fabric of your dress sways gently in the breeze, a soft symphony of movement that mirrors the graceful dance of the petals.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and tilt your face towards the sky, basking in the gentle caress of the sun's rays. Above you, the cerulean expanse is dotted with fluffy white clouds, their shapes shifting and morphing with each passing moment.

With practiced hands, you arrange the blooms with care, each stem finding its place in the intricate tapestry of colors and textures. The vibrant hues of the flowers contrast beautifully against the backdrop of the weathered brick walls of your shop, creating a scene that's both inviting and enchanting.

As you work, you can't help but smile at the thought of the joy these flowers will bring to those who pass by. It’s been hard adopting to a new and broken world, but ironically, you have found your passion. Something to make you eager to get up in the morning. Of course your heart still ached for those you had lost, the suffering, but working on flowers, something living and growing and adapting just like you managed to lighten the weight on your heart. Whether it's a simple bouquet to brighten someone's day or a thoughtful arrangement for a special occasion, your creations have a way of spreading happiness and light wherever they go.

With the last of the flowers arranged to perfection, you step back to admire your handiwork, a sense of pride swelling within you. With a contented sigh, you turn to head back inside, ready to greet the day with open arms and a heart full of gratitude.

That is, until, you hear a surprised gasp.

“Holy shit—”

Turning around at the sound, you're met with the sight of a familiar face. A young girl you've seen around town quite frequently. You haven’t officially met her yet, but you know her name: Ellie.

Realizing that the young girl has never visited your flower shop before, you understand the source of her surprise. With a warm smile, you approach her and greet her by name. "You're Ellie, right? Tommy's niece?"

Ellie nods enthusiastically, her eyes bright with excitement. "Yeah, that's me! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I've just never been here before. The flowers are... fucking amazing—"

She suddenly claps a hand over her mouth, looking towards you apologetically. The gesture makes you laugh.

"I'm glad you like them," you reply, feeling a sense of satisfaction at her reaction. "Feel free to take a closer look if you'd like."

Her eyes light up at the invitation, and she eagerly follows you inside the cozy flower shop. The atmosphere inside is warm and inviting, with shelves lined with potted plants and bouquets of flowers in various stages of bloom. Sunlight filters through the windows, casting a soft glow over the space and illuminating the vibrant colors of the blooms.

As you lead Ellie further into the shop, you can't help but notice the curious glances she casts around, taking in every detail with a sense of wonder. The air is filled with the subtle fragrance of flowers, a delicate scent that lingers in the air and adds to the charm of the space.

"So, Ellie," you begin, breaking the comfortable silence as you approach a display of freshly cut flowers, "Anything you like? I’d be more than happy to gift you some."

Ellie's eyes sparkle with excitement as she looks around the shop. "Really? But there’s so many, how can I even choose?"

"Well, you're in luck," you reply, gesturing towards the colorful blooms around you. "I can just make you a bouquet of everything. Just pick out your favorites."

Ellie's gaze drifts over the display, her expression thoughtful as she considers your question. "Hmm, that's a tough one, they all look so fucking cool," she muses, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration. "How about sunflowers and. . . daisies? There's just something about them that feels... I don't know, hopeful, I guess."

You nod in understanding, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Sunflowers are a wonderful choice. They symbolize warmth, happiness, and positivity. Definitely a fitting choice for someone as vibrant as you, Ellie."

She grins at the compliment, "Thanks,. So, what about you? Do you have a favorite flower?"

“That’s a tough one, but I’d had to say daffodils. They just make me feel right at home. . . even though home has become a difficult word.”

She doesn’t answer you, at least not in a way that you would expect. She nods and says,

"Let's add some daffodils to the mix too. If that’s okay.”

“If course it is. I said any flower didn’t I?”

With Ellie's choices in mind, you set to work gathering the blooms she selected, expertly arranging them into a vibrant bouquet. Your hands move with practiced precision, the gentle rustle of petals and stems filling the air as you weave the different flowers together.

Each blossom is a work of art in its own right, vibrant hues mingling together in a harmonious dance of colors and textures. Sunflowers, with their golden petals reaching towards the sky, stand tall and proud at the center of the bouquet, symbolizing warmth and happiness. Daisies, with their delicate white petals and cheerful yellow centers, add a touch of innocence and purity to the mix. And finally, the daffodils.

Beside you, Ellie watches with rapt attention, her eyes shining, "It's so pretty," she remarks, her voice filled with awe.

You smile at her words, feeling a sense of pride swell within you at the sight of her delight. "Flowers have a way of bringing joy and beauty into our lives," you reply, your voice soft with reverence. "They remind us to appreciate the simple things and to find beauty in the world around us."

Finally, the bouquet is complete, a stunning masterpiece that radiates warmth and joy. You present it to Ellie with a flourish, a sense of satisfaction washing over you at the sight of her delighted expression.

"It's perfect," Ellie exclaims, her eyes shining with excitement as she admires the bouquet in her hands. "Thank you so much. This is amazing."

"It was my pleasure," you reply, your heart swelling with happiness at her words. "I'm glad you like it. And remember, if you ever want to learn more about flowers or need some help with anything, you know where to find me."

Ellie nods eagerly, her enthusiasm infectious. "Definitely. Thanks again. This means a lot."

As Ellie turns to leave, a sudden thought seems to strike her. She pauses, her hand on the door, before turning back to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Hey," she begins, a playful smile dancing on her lips, "do you need a flower assistant? I mean, I’d be nice to work here, and you seem really cool."

"Well, Ellie," you reply with a teasing grin, "If you're serious about helping out around here, I'd be more than happy to have you on board."

Ellie's eyes widen,. "Wait, really?" she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You mean it?"

You nod, your smile genuine as you reassure her. "Of course. I could use all the help I can get, especially during busy times. And besides, it'll be fun having you around. Consider yourself officially hired as my flower assistant, Ellie."

A grin spreads across Ellie's face, her eyes sparkling with excitement at the prospect of working alongside you in the flower shop. "Wow, I don't even know what to say," she admits, her voice filled with genuine gratitude.

"No need to say anything," you grin. "Just don’t be late."

As Ellie nods, a sense of anticipation fills the air, signaling the beginning of a new chapter in both of your lives. With a shared sense of excitement and determination, you and Ellie set to work, ready to take on whatever challenges and adventures the future may hold for your blossoming partnership.

The next day unfolds with a golden hue, promising another beautiful day in Jackson. As you prepare for the day ahead, a sense of excitement tingles in the air knowing that you'll be mentoring Ellie, your newfound flower assistant. Ellie arrives earlier than you expected, her eyes oozing with sleep.

"Good morning, Ellie," you greet her with a warm smile, gesturing for her to come closer. "Ready for your first day?"

Ellie grins back, nodding enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I’m just not used to waking up so early."

With a chuckle, you lead her to the work table, where several potted plants await repotting. However, before diving into the day's tasks, Ellie's curiosity gets the better of her.

"How do you find all these flowers?" she asks. "I mean, with the infected and everything, it must be hard."

"I have a few spots outside of Jackson where I like to go to collect flowers. There's a field not too far from here that's brimming with all sorts of blooms."

Ellie's eyes widen and you can tell she's intrigued by the idea of venturing beyond the safety of the town's walls. "That sounds amazing," she breathes, her voice filled with wonder. "Do you go there often?"

You nod, a fond smile playing on your lips as you recall the countless trips you've taken to the flower field. "Yes, whenever I need to restock or find something special," you reply. "But I've also started growing some flowers myself. It's a work in progress, but it's been rewarding to see them bloom."

"That's so cool," she exclaims. "I'd love to see the field sometime, if you're up for it."

With a grin, you nod, "I'd be happy to take you," you reply. "But for now, let's focus on getting these plants repotted. We'll save the field trip for another day."

As if on cue, the shop door swings open, and a customer steps inside, a worn backpack slung over their shoulder. They approach the counter with a friendly smile, their eyes scanning the colorful array of blooms on display.

"Good morning," you greet them with a smile, your attention shifting to the customer. "How can I help you today?"

The customer returns your smile, reaching into their backpack to retrieve a small item wrapped in cloth. "I have something to trade," they explain, placing the item on the counter before you.

You unwrap the cloth to reveal a delicate piece of jewelry, a handmade necklace adorned with intricate beads and charms. It's a beautiful piece, clearly crafted with care and attention to detail.

Ellie watches with interest as you examine the necklace, her curiosity piqued by the exchange taking place before her eyes. "What are you trading for?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

You glance at Ellie with a smile, impressed by her keen observation. "Well, Ellie, sometimes customers trade items in exchange for flowers," you explain, turning back to the customer. "It's a way for them to get something they need while also supporting the shop. As for how I decide what the flowers are worth, it's based on a few factors—like the rarity of the flowers, the time and effort it took to grow them, and of course, their beauty."

With a nod, you accept the necklace, carefully placing it aside before selecting a beautiful bouquet of flowers to offer in exchange. As the customer leaves the shop, their smile brighter than before, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you've made another person's day a little bit brighter.

“Ellie, I’m not sure me bargin’ into your new workplace is the best introduction,” Joel says.

“You’ll be fine,” she says, dragging Joel by the arm. “Besides, weren’t you the one grumbling about not liking me spending all my time with a stranger? What else was I fucking supposed to do?”

Joel lets out an elongated sigh. “Language.”

He can’t see it, but he knows she’s rolling her eyes at him. The tiny, rundown flower shop soon comes into view and Joel can’t help but think of all the improvements he could make: the crooked step, the splintered door, the moss growing from the bottom of the woody exterior—

This shop won’t last next winter, he thinks with furrowed brows. And even though he’s been skeptical about Ellie spending all of her time here, he’s seen the improvement in her mood. Things just haven’t been the same since their return from the hospital, he couldn’t shake the distant feeling between him and her no matter how hard he tried. It had become something even he couldn’t fix.

But then, one day, she’d come home with the most beautiful bouquet of flowers he’d ever seen, with a wide smile plastered across her young face. Then she mentioned the keeper of the shop. Ever since then, his interest had been piqued.

Approaching the shop, he notices a figure outside arranging flowers, your silhouette bathed in the warm morning sun. You appear younger than he anticipated, your beauty catching him off guard. The way your dress contours your curves adds to your allure, a sight unexpected yet captivating. A gentle breeze tousles your hair as you work, momentarily leaving him speechless.

Contrasting his hesitation, you bound up to the shop with your usual cheerfulness. "Hey there!" Ellie calls out. The woman turns at her greeting, a genuine smile gracing her lips as she sets down the flowers. "Good morning!"

He hangs back, observing as Ellie effortlessly initiates a conversation with you. Your interaction flows with ease, suggesting a familiarity beyond your brief acquaintance.

While you chat, an unsettling feeling settles within him. There's an inexplicable pull towards the shop owner, despite his attempts to resist. Watching Ellie interact with you stirs a strange longing within him, leaving him more unsettled than before.

Before he can dwell on his thoughts further, Ellie snaps him out of it. "Joel, don’t be a stranger! Introduce yourself, she's the one I've been telling you about."

With a sigh, he steps forward, his approach cautious. As your eyes meet, a peculiar sense of recognition passes between you, as if you've crossed paths in another life.

"Hi," he manages to say, his voice gruff yet not devoid of warmth. "I'm Joel."

As he clasps your hand, a spark ignites between you, a connection unfurling with each passing moment.

“Joel?” you say slowly, as if tasting his name in your mouth. “Joel as in Tommy Miller’s brother?”

Your hand feels soft and delicate as it clasps his own, and he can't help but notice the subtle tremor in your fingers. It's a small detail, but it speaks volumes, hinting at a vulnerability that he hadn't expected from this beautiful stranger.

"Yeah, that's me," he responds with a nod, offering a friendly smile in return. "Tommy's my brother."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Joel. Ellie speaks very highly of you."

As you exchange pleasantries, he finds himself drawn to the warmth in your gaze, a warmth that seems to seep into his very soul. There's an openness about you, a genuineness that he finds both refreshing and disarming.

While you talk, he can't help but be captivated by the way your lips move, the gentle cadence of your voice. It's a strange sensation, this sudden fascination with a woman he's just met, but he finds himself unable to look away.

Your conversation is interrupted by Ellie's playful interruption, and he reluctantly tears his gaze away from you, feeling a pang of disappointment at the thought of leaving your side. But as they follow Ellie into the shop, he can't shake the feeling that meeting you has stirred something within him, something that he can't quite articulate.

Entering the shop, he can't help but notice even more things wrong– the creaky floorboards, the peeling paint, the flickering lights overhead. It's evident that the place is in dire need of renovations.

Despite the less-than-ideal surroundings, Ellie's excitement is contagious, and he finds himself getting swept up in the moment. She points out various flowers, their vibrant hues and delicate petals bringing a welcome burst of color to the dreary environment.

"These lilies are my absolute favorite," Ellie exclaims, thrusting a handful of flowers towards him with a mischievous grin.

He can't suppress a surprised sneeze as the pollen tickles his nose, and they both dissolve into laughter,and momentarily, all his concerns seem to fade away.

But just as they're catching their breath, you enter the room, your presence once again capturing his attention. There's something about you that intrigues him, a warmth and kindness that draws him in effortlessly.

A sheepish smile spreads across his face as your eyes meet. You return the smile, your gaze gentle and understanding, and for a fleeting moment, it feels as though you're the only two people in the room.

“Who helped you fix the place up?” Joel asks you as Ellie runs off to change the water of the vases. “

"Tommy actually," you explain. "He's been a tremendous help, especially with all the repairs."

Joel’s brows knit together and he ignores the way your smile falters as he speaks, “Well, leave it to my brother to do a shit job. This shop won’t last next winter.”

“O–Oh. . .” you hug yourself, thumbs moving along the contours of your arms. His heart sinks in, leave it to him to make someone feel bad.

“Not to say it can’t be fixed,” he continues abruptly. “I can help you out. Wouldn’t want Ellie’s new favorite spot to get buried under the snow.”

“Really?” you gasp, smile returning. “You would do that?”

“‘Course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just. . . I just wasn’t expecting such an offer thank you. It means the world to me.”

Suddenly Joel feels stiff from how deeply you stare at him, and then he realizes how close they are, only a breath away between their lips. He turns his head, grunting, “Don’t mention it,” a stuttered breath leaves him. “Really. Don’t.”

Your growing smile surprises him, as does your not backing away.

“You got it, Mr. Miller.”

Watching Joel work on fixing the roof of the shop, you can't help but feel a flutter of warmth stir within you. His muscles ripple with each movement, his arms bulging with strength as he lifts heavy beams and hammers nails into place. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, catching the sunlight and creating a halo of light around him.

You find yourself mesmerized by the sight, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him. His white tank top clings to his chest, damp with sweat, and the short-sleeved flannel he wears hangs open, exposing the tank top underneath. Every movement sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a flush of heat rise to your cheeks.

The sound of his grunts fills the air, low and guttural, and it sends a thrill through you that you can't quite explain. There's something primal about the way he works, a raw energy that draws you in and leaves you feeling breathless.

You watch as he reaches up to adjust a beam, his muscles flexing with the effort, and you can't help but imagine what it would feel like to run your hands over his warm, sweaty skin. The thought sends a shudder coursing through you, and you quickly look away, feeling flustered and embarrassed by the intensity of your thoughts.

But no matter how hard you try to focus on something else, your gaze keeps drifting back to Joel, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And as you watch him work, you can't help but feel a strange sense of longing stir within.

But for now, all you can do is watch and admire from afar, content to bask in the warmth of Joel's presence as he works tirelessly to repair the roof of the shop. And as you watch him, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over you.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself with determination as you clutch the bowl of freshly picked black mulberries and raspberries in your hands. With a quick glance up at Joel, who is perched precariously on the ladder, you gather your courage and make your way outside.

"Hey, Joel!" you call out, your voice tinged with nervousness as you approach the ladder. "I brought you some fruit and iced tea. Thought you could use a break."

Joel looks down at you with a grateful smile, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Thanks. That sounds great."

As he descends the ladder, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement mingled with nervousness. With each step he takes, you steal glances at him, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him.

But it's when he reaches the bottom of the ladder and stretches upwards to take the bowl of fruit from your hands that you feel your breath catch in your throat. The movement causes his tank top to ride up slightly, revealing a sliver of his stomach, and you swallow thickly at the sight.

As Joel settles down to enjoy the fruit and iced tea, you find yourself drawn to the empty spot next to him on the porch. With a nervous glance in his direction, you take a seat beside him.

The warmth of the wooden porch beneath you contrasts with the cool breeze that sweeps through, and you can't help but feel a sense of calm settle over you as you sit beside Joel. The silence between you is comfortable, broken only by the occasional sound of birds chirping in the distance.

“Lovely day, ain’t it,” Joel takes a bite of the freshly picked black mulberries, the deep purple juice stains his lips, a stark contrast against the ruggedness of his features, and you find yourself mesmerized by the sight.

The juice glistens in the fading sunlight, tracing a vivid trail along his lips as he savors the sweetness of the fruit. Each movement of his jaw seems deliberate, each bite a study in pleasure as he indulges in the simple pleasure of the moment.

A soft breeze rustles through the trees, lifting strands of his hair and sending them dancing in the golden light. But your gaze remains fixed on his lips.

The silence and sight makes you light-headed and eager to say anything, no matter how idiotic it might be.

“Aren't you a little old to be doing this much heavy lifting?”

“Aren't you a little too young to be lookin’ at me like that?”

Your shoulders rise, blood rushing to your head as you look down. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest. Butterflies flutter madly within you, the wings tickling the insides of your stomach. You only swallow. “Your lips are stained from the mulberry.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

He takes another one, biting down with his lips, he finds your gaze. You watch a tiny drop go down his chin. The two of you are close. So incredibly close. It’s been like this since he started working on the shop. A pull that is too hard to ignore.

“Well,” he breaks the silence. “Better finish up before the sun sets.”

Joel stands and your heart breaks a little. You blink from where you’re sat, staring at him, yearning for him.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want you trying to find your way home in the dark.”

“You know, I could’ve come here on my own. I always do.”

“I know. Just wanted to make sure you have someone lookin’ after you.”

“For someone to be known as a grump, you’re quite a softie.”

“I’m leavin’.”

“No—!”

Your fingers close around his arm, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you find yourself frozen in place, your pulse quickening as you realize just how close you are to him.

Joel's gaze meets yours, and you can see a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your heart race even faster. His eyes drop to your lips, lingering there for a moment before snapping back up to meet your gaze. You notice the hints of a fading smile, “You were joking,” you say slowly, letting go of him.

“That I was, wildflower,” he doesn’t move away and neither do you. Your breath catches within your throat, the moment stretching between your two like rubber. Before you can say anything Joel’s eyes flicker to something behind you and he smiles. “I think we’re here.”

As you turn around, your heart skips a beat. The field of flowers stretches out endlessly, a sea of color and beauty that seems to go on forever. The grass has grown taller since the last time you were here, swaying gently in the breeze and creating a soft, rhythmic rustle that fills the air.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the landscape and setting the flowers ablaze with color. Reds and yellows, blues and purples, a riot of hues that dance and swirl in the gentle breeze.

You take a step forward, the grass crunching beneath your feet as you walk further into the field. The scent of poppies and blue hyacinths fills your nostrils, sweet and intoxicating, and you can't help but close your eyes and breathe it in.

The wind sweeps across the field, sending waves of grass rippling in its wake. The sound is soothing, a gentle whisper that seems to carry you away on a tide of tranquility.

For a moment, you forget about everything else – the worries and the doubts, the uncertainties and the fears. All that matters is the beauty of this moment, the beauty of this place, and the beauty of being here with Joel.

With a rush of emotion swirling within you, you turn to Joel, your heart pounding in your chest as you meet his gaze. He's still standing close, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.

Without thinking, without hesitating, you lean forward and press your lips to his. At first, Joel is taken aback, his body stiffening in surprise. But then, he caves, his lips moving against yours in a slow, tender rhythm.

His hands come up to cradle your face, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. You feel his tongue on your bottom lip and open up for him eagerly, the taste of him feels like electricity shooting through you. Heat pools between your legs, Your breasts tingle with the mere thought of having his hands on them, nipples aching and hard.

Joel breaks away briefly, then closes the distance again. Small hisses against your swollen lips over and over until neither of you can breathe. He hungers for it almost. And so do you. “Joel,” you whisper, eyes cloudy. “Please.”

“Is that what you want, wildflower?” he drags his nose down the side of your cheek, facial hair scratching delightfully against the sensitive skin of your neck. “For me to fuck you here? Right out in the open?” his voice trembles. “Like animals?”

“God, yes—” your insides clench. “I would want nothing more. Been thinking about you since the day I met you, your hands, your mouth, you as a whole.”

His hands drop to your ass and he gives the tender flesh a strong squeeze, “You want me?”

“I do.”

You suddenly find yourself on the ground, the grass tickling your exposed legs and arms, the skirt of your dress rolled up to your waist. Joel’s weight is a welcoming comfort on top of you, another gust of warm wind blows. With a groan, he pulls down the sweetheart neckline of your dress, exposing both your breasts. While holding one, he kisses the other, drawing the stiff nipple into his mouth. He sucks harshly, your body jolting with pleasure. The soaking mess between your legs grows.

“Joel,” you moan, back arching. “Fuck—”

He swirls the tip of his tongue around the nipple and grazes his teeth against it. Calloused fingers play with the other. Your mind is swimming in pleasure. He brings the skirt of your dress further up and traces his lips down the fabric, when you look down, you see him between your legs, his eyes darker than normal as he stares into your soul. The tips of his fingers dance along the elastic of your panties, asking for permission.

You breathe out a yes, barely audible, but he nods and tugs the fabric down. When he latches his mouth on to you, the world stops. His mouth feels divine. His tongue delves between your folds, the bridge of his nose rubbing against your clit. You shudder against him and he moans into you. The reverberations of the sound force a gasp out of you and you swear you feel him smiling.

His fingers trace patterns along your thighs, teasing and stroking as his mouth works wonders between your legs. You're on the edge, the pleasure building up with each flick of his tongue. You reach down and bury your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, guiding him where you need him the most.

Joel picks up the pace, his tongue moving faster, his fingers slipping inside of you. You can feel your body starting to tighten, the coil in your stomach about to unravel. You grip onto him tighter, your hips bucking against his mouth, and with one final flick of his tongue, you come undone.

You cry out his name, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. Joel continues to lightly lick and suck, drawing out your pleasure until you're completely spent. He makes his way back up to your lips, kissing you deeply as you both catch your breath.

“That was…” you trail off, unable to find the right words for the mind-blowing experience you just had.

“Amazin’,” Joel finishes for you.

You nod, still a little breathless. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your body against his. Joel's hands roam over your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You can feel his erection against your thigh, and you know that he needs release just as much as you do.

“Been so long since I’ve tasted somethin’ this sweet,” he rasps. “Thank you.”

You hear the blood rushing in your ears, “You’re the sweet one,” you mumble, tenderly touching the scratchy surface of his cheek. “So sweet.”

He smiles and as he kisses the curve of your palm, shuffles above you, starting to get up. A deep frown forms between your brows. “And where are you going?” you pout, wrapping your arms around him. You feel the outline of his length as he lowers himself once more, the tips of your noses brushing against one another.

“I thought you wanted to gather some flowers.”

“Not yet,” you murmur, eyes glazed. “At least, not before feeling you inside me.”

“Fuck, darlin’,” he lets out a whimpering breath, grinding himself against your bare cunt. “You really know how to get a man goin’.”

“Prove it.”

His eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t quite describe. His breath stutters, then, without even looking, he unbuckles himself, never breaking eye contact. Joel’s hair ruffles with the wind, yet he doesn’t even blink. The head of his cock catches against your clit, ripping a moan from your throat. He fills you with one sloppy thrust, the length of him stretching you enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

“Joel—Oh my god—”

“That’s it, good girl, takin’ my cock so well. Feels good?”

Slack-jawed, you nod. He goes deeper. “Want you to feel me for weeks, wildflower. And I want you to think of me every time you come to this god—” thrust. “—damn” thrust. “—field.”

You can only moan at his words, his hands grip your lovehandles, squeezing and pulling you closer to him every time he rocks forward. His head falls into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin, he sucks. Your body convulses, shaking against him.

Sparks ricochet through every limb of your body as you feel the heat pooling in your core. Joel moves his hand from your lower back to cup your breast, his fingers teasing and plucking at your nipple. The pleasure ricochets through your body, making you feel like you're on fire.

“Come for me, darlin’.” Joel growls into your ear, his voice rough and primal. “Come on my cock.”

His words send you over the edge, your body shaking and convulsing beneath him as he continues to thrust into you relentlessly. The world blurs around you, all your senses consumed by the feeling of Joel's body against yours.

"Joel—" you moan, your voice lost in the wind as you reach your peak.

He groans in response, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. After one final, deep thrust, he pulls out and spills over your stomach, his body shaking against yours. You both ride out the waves of pleasure until finally, you collapse against each other, panting and spent.

You lay in the flower field, a tangled mess of limbs and sweaty bodies. Joel's arms are still wrapped tightly around you, his face buried in your neck as he tries to catch his breath. You run your fingers through his hair, feeling the warmth of his body.

"I've never felt anything like this before," you say quietly, almost to yourself.

Joel lifts his head to look at you, his eyes softening. "Me neither, wildflower. Me neither."

As the sun begins to set, you both lay there, entwined in each other's arms. The field has become a symbol of something more than beauty. And as long as those flowers bloom, you know your love for each other will continue to grow.

A week.

A week without hearing from him, seeing him, touching him.

A painful week.

It’s almost as if he never existed. As if the moment in your favorite field was nothing but your imagination. The only reason why you know it's real is because Ellie still comes by every day, and despite knowing it’s impossible, you still feel him deep inside. It only heightens whenever you have to travel back to the field to gather flowers for the shop.

You watch as Ellie places more daisies into a vase. She’s been her usual self, joking around, telling you about all the details of her life. It’s hard not to ask her about Joel and how he’s been.

Some nasty part of your mind whispers words of discouragement, telling you he only wanted you for your body, for your charm, and got what he wanted. Your heart clenches. It might be true. You were young after all, emotional, broken. He’d already gone through all that, killed to stay alive, for loved ones, gone through grief—why would he want to take on another’s problems as well?

“Hey, Ellie?”

She turns to you, eyes slightly wide due to the rasp of your voice, “Yeah boss?”

“Can you watch the shop for a second, I have something I need to do that I forgot about.”

You don't wait for her nod as you exit the shop. You know he’s home. He has to be.

Luckily it doesn’t take you long to reach their house, your knock is loud and swift. You know you’ve taken him by surprise by the expression when he opens the door. His mouth is slightly ajar, his brows knit together.

“What are you—”

“I came to talk,” you brush past him, heading inside. Joel lingers at the door but soon after follows you inside anyway.

He sighs, “What do you want to talk about?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what's to come. "Us," you reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you. "I need to know what happened, Joel. Why you've been avoiding me."

Joel's jaw clenches at your words, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. "I ain't good for you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "You deserve better than someone like me."

You feel a surge of anger rising within you at his words, frustration bubbling up to the surface. "That's for me to decide, Joel," you say, your voice tinged with defiance. "I'm not some fragile flower that needs to be protected. I can make my own choices, and right now, I choose you."

Joel's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a hint of sadness in his eyes. "You don't know what you're saying," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm a mess, a broken man with too much blood on his hands. You deserve someone who can give you the world, not someone who can barely keep himself together. You’re young. You still have so much ahead of you—"

“No! That’s not what I want. I want you, you’re the only person who’s made me feel like. . . like myself. . .before. And wanted.”

Your voice begins to shake, you see the hesitation within his body, hod his hand slightly moves forward to hold you, to touch you, but he doesn’t.

“I can’t do this to you,” his hands slide into his pockets, he gestures to the door. “Get out.”

The blood freezes in your veins, your eyes grow wide, your chest constricts, “What?”

“I said to get out,” he repeats, a little louder this time. “Get out, please.”

And you do.

“You need to get your shit together.”

“Language, Ellie, dammit.”

She glares at him from across the table. It’s an early morning, earlier than he’d liked. He’s been feeling hallowed out ever since your visit. He could see the hurt in your eyes, the betrayal. He knew that he’d broken something when avoiding you, something tender and not so easily fixable.

But what was he supposed to do? You were young, he didn’t want to trap you, didn’t want you to throw the best years of your life for an old man like him.

Briefly, he squeezes his eyes shut. His head hurts. All he can think about is you, your body, how eager it was to take him, the delectable curves he couldn’t get enough of.

He misses your taste on his tongue.

“She’s miserable too, you know.”

Joel’s eye snap wide open. “Who?”

“You know who,” she shakes her head. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but she’s definitely upset and so are you—Just fix it. Don’t be an asshole”

He let’s out a sigh, she’s right. He needs to fix this somehow. Joel stares at Ellie, her words hitting him harder than he expected. He hadn't realized just how much his actions had affected not only you but also Ellie. The weight of his own guilt settles heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the mess he's made.

"Yeah," he mutters, his voice rough with emotion. "I know."

He runs a hand through his hair, the tension in his muscles making every movement feel heavy and strained. He knows he needs to make things right, to somehow find a way to mend the rift he's created between you and him.

But how? How could he possibly make things right after everything that's happened?

"I'll talk to her," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll fix it."

Ellie nods in approval, her expression softening slightly as she looks at him. "Good," she says, her tone gentle. "Because I don't want to see either of you hurting anymore."

She was right and he knew it.

“The shop’s closed today,” Ellie says as he grabbed his jacket. “I don’t know where she is.”

But he did. He knew exactly where you would be. The place he tasted you, the place he felt your body against him.

Joel's heart sinks as he approaches the flower field and sees you sitting there, your shoulders hunched over as you hug your knees to your chest. He can hear your sobs from a distance, the sound echoing through the quiet morning air.

For a moment, he hesitates, unsure of what to do or say. But then, with a heavy sigh, he pushes aside his doubts and makes his way towards you.

As he draws closer, he can see your whole body trembling with the force of your emotions. His heart aches at the sight, knowing that he's the cause of your pain. He kneels infront of you, gently touching your wrists.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's me, Joel."

You startle at the sound of his voice, lifting your head to look at him with tear-streaked eyes. For a moment, there's a flicker of surprise in your gaze, followed by a wave of raw emotion.

"Joel?" you choke out, your voice thick with tears. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I couldn't stand the thought of you hurtin’ like this."

"I thought... I thought you didn't care," You sniffle, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand.

Joel reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch light and tender. "I care more than you know," he says. "I made a mistake, a big one, and I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I just didn’t want you to. . .I didn’t think I deserved someone like you."

"I missed you," you admit softly, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

Joel's heart clenches at your words, a rush of emotion flooding through him. Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as you bury your face against his chest.

"I missed you too, wildflower," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "And I promise, I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

He hears the smile in your voice.

“You already do.”

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #nsfw

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