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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 month

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Hotter Than Texas | Part I

(unofficially: Brother's Worst Enemy)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Alrighty y'all, this is for everyone who has so patiently waited for me to make this a thing XD Not sure if I could squeeze a whole series out of this one but we shall see. Maybe at least a part 2. Enjoy!

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Aka it's a road trip, strap in.

CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)

The mission is simple. Collect Seresin Junior from the train station near the main gate of the base and deliver said cargo to the Seresin homestead in Eastern Texas on his way to Atlanta, Georgia for a long overdue visit with his grandparents. It isn’t rocket science. It sure as hell doesn’t hold a candle to the canyon run he pulled off just the other month. And yet, Bradley’s drumming his fingers anxiously on the hood of his Bronco as he leans into its frame, waiting on the trolley from downtown San Diego.

While Jake and Bradley have recently made peace after their longstanding cold war, Bradley isn’t exactly thrilled to meet another one of his kind. Besides, he isn’t one for small talk, and the prospect of spending the next two days with a complete stranger is downright daunting. He prefers music to conversation and he’s hoping that his road trip companion won’t be offended when he turns up the radio and forgets there’s anybody else in the car.

When Hangman had asked for the favor, he assured Bradley that he was his last choice – which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Bradley appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. By the end of the term, there was nobody from their squadron left on base except Bradley, and he would be heading east anyway, might as well provide shuttle service while he’s at it.

As the trolley whistles into the station, Bradley pushes off his car and straightens his back, watching the tinted windows as they zip by, a blur at first and then gradually separating as the trolley comes to a stop.

Bradley leaves his car to walk around the fence, not quite sure how he’s going to be greeting a person he’s never before seen, but it’s not like he’s going to fashion a sign for the occasion. He sticks his hands into his pockets, the breeze picking up his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt like a parachute before it starts whipping around his torso in the wind tunnel on the platform.

He glances around at the commuters stepping off the trolley, trying to pick out the blondes that might resemble his colleague, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, just as you say, “Rooster, right?”

He blinks at you, slightly disoriented. You look nothing like Hangman, thank fuck, because Bradley can’t take his eyes off you and, as inappropriate as this reaction is, it would make it that much worse if you did. He gives you a sideways grin. “What gave me away?” he says.

“My brother told me to find the dorkiest guy at the station,” you respond, grinning at him.

Bradley chuckles. “So, you’re walking to Texas, then,” he says, stepping around you.

You laugh, struggling to redirect the wheels of your suitcase.

Bradley bends down to grab the handle. “I can take that,” he says, tucking away the retractable bar and lifting it off the ground by the strap.

“Thanks,” you say, cringing slightly as Bradley lifts the luggage as though you’re embarrassed by its weight.

But after the countless exercise drills over the years, Bradley hardly notices that it’s heavy. In fact, he could probably carry it over his head. He eyes you inconspicuously as you fall in step with him, wondering if perhaps that might impress you – not that he wants to impress you.

“Actually, he said I couldn’t miss you because you’d be a head taller than everyone else, and probably wearing a very bright shirt.”

Bradley looks over at you with a grin. “Hopefully I didn’t disappoint?”

You eye his shirt flapping in the breeze. “I found you, didn’t I?”

Bradley lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car and walks around to open your door for you.

You give him a suspicious look. “Thanks,” you say.

Bradley nods at you, offering a hand to help you in. Once you’re seated, he shuts the door behind you and exhales unsteadily the kind of sigh that often accompanies a guilty conscience. There’s no way he could possibly get entangled in a mess of this magnitude. And a colossal mess it would become if he were to develop any sort of soft spot for his recent enemy’s baby sister. Bradley, being a sensible, mature adult, understands this unequivocally. But, when he rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s seat next to you, the notion that he’s not allowed under any circumstances to find you attractive flies right out his rolled down window.

This is because you’re already tuning the radio like you own the place and because you smell like a goddess. Bradley has no clue whether it’s your hair or your perfume or your goddamn essence that’s permeated his upholstery in under ten seconds, but whatever it is, he certainly wouldn’t mind smelling it on his sheets in the morning.

Fuck. He’s fucking fucked.

“This alright?” you ask casually, as if you didn’t just hijack a stranger’s radio.

He cringes at the stereo; he’ll have to work on your taste in music. “Got your seatbelt on?” he asks as he pulls out.

You turn around in your seat and pull on the seatbelt.

Bradley promptly hits the breaks and you lurch forward slightly, the seatbelt in your hand getting stuck on its way out. He looks over at you with an air of seriousness despite the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The seatbelt should be the first thing you do when you enter a vehicle.” Not fiddle with the radio, he adds silently.

You raise your eyebrows at him in amusement. “Okay, dad.”

Bradley nearly shudders at your response. He’s probably a good ten years older than you, so, really, while dad might be stretching it, you’re not too far off. “Keep up that attitude and you’ll be listening to Metallica the whole way home.”

You smirk at him. “I like Metallica, so joke’s on you, bud.”

Bradley starts driving again. “If you like Metallica, then why are we listening to this trash?”

Your jaw drops and you reach for the volume dial to turn up the song. “How dare you?”

Bradley rolls his eyes. Something tells him he’s in for a wild ride.

…

About two hours later, Bradley pulls into a small gas station just past the border into Arizona.

“Want something to eat?” he asks, leaning across the console to pop his glove compartment and pull out his wallet. “Or drink?”

You purse your lips. “I could go for a coffee.”

“How do you like it?” he asks.

“With a pinch of salt.”

Bradley gapes at you. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

You snort. “I’m not joking. You should try it! Cuts the bitterness in half, my friend.”

Bradley cringes. “The bitterness is why I drink it.”

You shake your head and declare wisely, “You’ll see.”

“That you’re a nutcase?” Bradley mutters under his breath as he exits the car. He jogs over to the convenience store, determinedly blocking out the seductive quality of your persuasive tone. You could probably convince him to drink a pint of his own urine if you set your mind to it.

Bradley drums impatiently on the counter, waiting for the clerk to finish restocking one of the shelves with chips. While he’s waiting, he glances out to check on you as if you’re a child under his charge. You’ve stepped out of the Bronco to stretch your legs and Bradley doesn’t like the way the two guys in the convertible in behind are eyeing you.

Bradley cranes his neck to check on the clerk’s progress and lets out a stifled sigh. When he looks back outside, he sees that one of the men has approached you and, well, Bradley isn’t about to wait to see what happens next. He drops a bill on the counter and calls out, “Keep the change,” to the clerk before practically slamming his way through the doors with the coffees in his hands.

Why it bothers him that some random dude might want your number is not of consequence. What matters is that Bradley gets rid of this asswipe before you start enjoying his company.

He strides confidently past the man chatting you up and stops right in between you and him, handing you a coffee.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he cautions moodily, not entirely sure how to go about handling a situation in which, objectively speaking, he has no real authority.

You meet his gaze with a small smile. “You don’t say,” you respond with all the sultriness of a blazing, desert sun.

Bradley’s gaze remains unwaveringly on you as he unhooks a pair of Ray-Bans from the neck of his muscle shirt and slides them over his eyes. “Ready to go?” he asks in a level tone, hoping he can avoid what is bound to be an unpleasant interaction with the man still standing behind him.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man speaks up. “Didn’t realize you were with someone, honey.”

Bradley keeps his eyes on yours for several moments longer, trying his best not to show the irritation he feels at the way this rando just called you ‘honey’. Reluctantly, he turns to face him, wondering what in the world he could say that wouldn’t make him sound jealous as fuck.

But before Bradley could speak, you slide casually into his side, leaning on him like it’s the most natural thing. “That’s just fine,” you say to the man. “No harm, no foul.”

Bradley looks down at your head as it nestles into his shoulder and then lifts his arm to let you move in closer. Trying to play it cool, he skims the tips of his fingers across your lower back, which is warm and feels like the perfect place to rest his hand.

Convertible guy promptly departs, and Bradley is left standing in an embrace with the one person on the entire planet for whom he should never catch feelings, at a derelict gas station on the outskirts of arid Yuma, Arizona, and the heat is really starting to get to him. Slowly, you start to peel yourself away and Bradley, sensing your withdrawal, drops his hand and recoils from you like you’ve burnt him.

Did it feel nice pretending you were his girl? Sure did. Is he going to erase it from his memory and never let himself so much as shake your hand again? Absolutely.

Read Part 2

Tag List

I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments probably tomorrow!

@joaquinwhorres

@katiemcrae

@sehnsuchts-trunken

@toomuchfluffs

@wintercap89

@lonelywitchv2

@callsign-jupiter

@rosiahills22

@olliepig

@coffeeaddictedmay

@boringusername3

@ratedtvpg

@mak-32

@annedub

@jules-1999

@black--lightning

@j-velvet

@xoxabs88xox

@cyanide-cryptid

@callsignvenus

@artemissunn

@gcldtom

@atarmychick007

@callsign-sunshine

@shanimallina87

@birdy-bat-writes

@wkndwlff

@chaosmxlcolm

@iminlovewithenchilidadas

@daniibzz

@avis15

@valhallavalkyrie9

@ijustwantedplums

@hal3ynicol3

@avengersfan25

@hallecarey1

@nik2blog

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@lilianashomaresparza

@lovingperfectionsblog

@bblpbb

@Elenavampire21

@SometimesAnAlice

@risingtripletaurus

@adaydreamaway08

@mattyskies

@desert-fern

@catsandbooksandstuff

@Topguncultleader

@avengers-fixation

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bradshawssugarbaby · 1 month

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Hurricane - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley's regretted breaking off his relationship with you for months, but when he sees you walking into the country club after his round of golf, he knows he has to fix things.

a/n: I haven't written much angst before but I'm really trying to branch out a little bit. Inspired by Hurricane by Luke Combs, and also this weird recurring dream I keep having.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: buckle up bc there's a lot? angst (happy ending), parental death, depression, hurt, cancer, goose's accident + carole's reaction, carole literally never getting over losing goose, bradley being a commitmentphobe, pregnancy (i think that's it?), also entirely unrealistic bc you know what? I can't keep roo sad for long.

word count: 3.6k

taglist: @avengersfan25, @nouis-bum, @floydsmuse, @mamachasesmayhem, @jessicab1991, @atarmychick007, @b-bradshaw, @djs8891

Then you rolled in with your hair in the wind Baby, without warning I was doin' alright but just your sight Had my heart stormin'

Bradley narrowed his eyes beneath his sunglasses, the glare of the hot mid-morning sun harsh on his chocolate brown eyes. He grabbed his nine-iron from his golf bag, taking a practice swing before teeing up for his next shot. Bob, Jake, Reuben and Javy stood to the side behind him, watching as he lined up to take his shot. He hadn’t golfed in years, in fact, he’d only ever golfed a handful of times in his life, all of them back when he lived in Virginia. His uncle had taught him when he was 15, a welcome distraction when his mom became sick, and he’d gone out a few times when he was in college after a roommate of his on the school’s golf team had invited him out. He held his breath as he heard the club make contact with the small, white orb, watching as it soared through the air, disappearing somewhere onto the course. Jake let out an impressive whistle as he looked on, placing his hands on his hips as he shook his head in disbelief.

“You’ve never golfed before, Bradshaw? You sure?” He drawled, raising one of his manicured (though he’d deny it if asked) blonde eyebrows suspiciously.

“I told you, a handful of times. Not never.”

“You did say less than five,” Bob shrugged as he cleaned his glasses before replacing them on his nose. “Less than five suggests you haven’t really hit a course.”

“Not to mention you said in years. That was the swing of a man who’s at least hit a driving range a few times,” Reuben pointed out to the course in the general direction of where Bradley’s ball had landed as Javy, Bob and Jake nodded in agreement.

“I wish Nat had tagged along, she wouldn’t ride my ass this hard,” Bradley huffed, shaking his head.

“Nat doesn’t golf. You know that. She acted disgusted that I even asked,” Jake shrugged.

“Maybe it was how you asked,” Bob suggested as he disguised his jab at Jake as a helpful criticism.

“Just take your turn, Robert,” Jake hissed, rolling his eyes dramatically as Bob smirked.

Bradley normally would have joined in with a quip of his own directed at Jake, but his heart just wasn’t in it. His heart wasn’t even in the game. The only reason why he’d agreed to go golfing with the guys for their usual monthly game was because you left him. He needed to get over you and move on - it’d been six months and with no deployments coming up, he had nothing to focus 100% of his attention onto. Reuben had noticed it first - Bradley was withdrawn on nights out, his usually chatterbox self now quiet, calm and keeping to himself, barely breaking eye contact with his beer bottle. Then came Natasha’s barrage of questions - he knew she meant well, but God, it was hard to listen to.

He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he knew why you left. And it was entirely his fault. You’d gotten upset because he’d stopped spending as much time with you, kept getting cold feet about committing to your relationship. He’d never tell you why he couldn’t commit - it was too hard for him to explain to anyone, really. In fact, he was fairly confident that Reuben was the only other person aware of it.

Bradley wanted to be the partner you needed - he really did. He wanted to be the doting, affectionate boyfriend who’d whisk you off somewhere beautiful, propose to you, start a family with 2.2 kids and a dog, cart the kids around to sports practices on weekends - the American dream. He knew you deserved that much. And yet, no matter how badly he wanted to give that to you - he couldn’t. He’d told you he didn’t want it - he didn’t want to get married, he didn’t want to have kids, he never wanted it. He watched you fall apart the minute the words left his mouth, and it killed him inside. He wanted to hold you close and tell you he was making a mistake, tell you it wasn’t true and he didn’t mean it, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t, because he was terrified.

Growing up without his dad was one of the hardest things he could have experienced, he was sure of it. He was too young to truly remember how his mom reacted when she learned her husband had been killed in a training exercise, but he remembered her crying a lot, feeling paralyzed by loss and guilt, angry with the world for taking the man she loved away from her. He remembered as he grew up, she never remarried, never went on a date, never even as much as looked at another man. His dad was her everything, and losing him crushed her.

When she got sick, Bradley was a teenager - old enough to understand what it meant for her, what her odds of recovery were, and old enough to be realistic about the future. When they found out she wasn’t going to get better, he’d half expected her to react the way she did when his dad died, but instead, she seemed almost at peace with the idea. She’d spent 14 years of her life missing his dad, and she knew that, even though she was horrified by the thought of leaving Bradley on his own, she wouldn’t have to spend another minute missing her husband.

Bradley decided then that he’d never want to put someone through that. He’d never be able to hurt someone he loved like this - leave them widowed before they turned 30, alone with a toddler at home to raise on the opposite side of the country from their family and friends, with nothing but a military pension and an apology over his death.

It was at 16 years old that Bradley decided, if he wanted to become a pilot, he was going to have to spend life alone, and for the most part, he was ok with that.

That was, until he met you.

He tried to deny his feelings, pretending you were just a casual fling, some fun sex here and there between deployments and missions and nothing more. That was, until three months in, he accidentally told you he loved you. It wasn’t a lie, he did love you, but it caught him off guard when he said it - he didn’t mean to blow his cover and let his guard down like that. And when you said it back? He knew it was game over.

He tried his hardest to push his fears aside, he tried SO hard. He was getting older and beginning to realize he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone, especially as he neared the mandatory 20 years of service cutoff for aviators. He’d grown almost fond of the idea of settling down with you, seeing you with a ring on your finger, picturing you with a baby in you, his baby. He wanted it. He wanted all of it. But, the fears and anxiety he had reared its ugly head, and he couldn’t bring himself to get past it.

It was on their last mission, when he had to eject and landed in the middle of a snowy mountain, unsure if he’d make it back home to you. His mind raced with thoughts of how you’d react if he didn’t make it home - how you’d crumple to the floor when you saw the two uniformed officers on your doorstep, the blood-curdling scream you’d let out in pain when you heard them say it, tears staining your pretty little face as you were handed that folded American flag - he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t stand the idea of putting you through everything his mom had gone through. Not when you were so young and had everything ahead of you. When you could find a man who wasn’t putting his life in danger nearly every damn day, risking himself and risking a chance he might not come home to you.

This golf trip was meant to take his mind off you. Reuben had mentioned it in passing to Jake and Bob, who exchanged worried looks with one another. Javy had overheard Nat’s line of questioning when he and Mickey returned to the table with a fresh round of beers, both of them offering Bradley silent looks of sympathy as they nodded in agreement to Nat’s advice. Bradley was struggling, in over his head with emotions and regret and sadness, but he knew he’d fucked it all up. And he knew that even if he tried, you wouldn’t want him back, and who could blame you?

Bob had suggested he reach out to you and apologize, and for a while, Bradley considered it. He strongly considered calling you, going to your house, begging for forgiveness and begging you to take him back, but after how you reacted when he broke things off with you, he wouldn’t even take him back. He’d been a dick in every sense of the word, and now, he had to try and move on, adjusting to life without you in it.

The next nine holes passed by with little conversation from Bradley and worried glances exchanged between his friends. He wasn’t in the mood for talking, he’d explain, shrugging the concern off before focusing back on the game. Bradley was thankful for his friends’ efforts, but it was beginning to feel like nothing would help him move on.

He slumped down into a chair at a table in the country club after their round of golf, sipping back the beer Jake bought him. He caught himself downing the liquid quicker than he should have, but at this point, being drunk would at least provide him with that much needed numbness he craved. He could hear Bob bickering with Jake over golf scores and who truly won, prompting an eye roll from Javy as he pulled the crumpled scoresheets from his pocket and placed them on the table. Reuben noticed the glazed over look in Bradley’s eye and clapped a sympathetic hand down on his shoulder.

Bradley was about to thank Reuben for being there for him when he saw your face. You were walking into the country club with a couple of your friends, laughing and smiling as you spoke.

God, he loved that smile.

He gulped back the rest of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table, the sound of Bradley slamming the glass down a little harder than he intended prompting Jake to spin his head around as he saw you.

“Oh..shit,” he murmured as Bob and Javy both turned to look discreetly towards you.

Bradley’s eyes widened as you walked past the bar, revealing a very unexpected new figure. He blinked his eyes a few times to ensure they weren’t playing tricks on him - positive that this had to be some kind of optical illusion or something. It was impossible. You couldn’t be.

“Pregnant.” Jake whispered as he leaned into the table, “She’s pregnant,”

“Did you know, Bradley?” Bob inquired as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“N-no.” Bradley choked out, feeling the walls closing in around him as the room started to spin.

Without hesitation, Bradley rose from his seat and made his way over to you, despite the protests from Bob and Reuben, the two voices of reason to Javy and Jake’s voices of impulse. Bradley approached you cautiously, clearing his throat for a moment to garner your attention. You spun your head around, your cheeks rosy and your skin glowing with that pregnancy glow everyone always talked about. Bradley had never really believed in that kind of stuff, but you were proving him wrong.

“Bradley?” you asked, your face paleing to a shade of ghostly white.

“Can…can we talk, please? I need to talk to you,” Bradley rambled with desperation written on his face.

You huffed a sigh, nodding your head slowly as you excused yourself from your friends, who were now whispering and exchanging uncomfortable glances with one another. Bradley followed closely behind you as you stepped out into the fresh air, finding a discreet corner of the parking lot to discuss everything from the last six months.

“I…Is it mine?” Bradley whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer as his eyes wandered to the bump that was evident under your sundress.

You sighed again, following Bradley’s gaze down to your abdomen, a protective hand resting on your bump as you nodded slowly, humming in confirmation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He frowned, shaking his head quickly, “I-I, I would have helped you.”

“Bradley,” you said, narrowing your eyes and shaking your head quickly, “You told me you didn’t want this. You dumped me and told me you never wanted to settle down or have a family, you didn’t want to be with me anymore, and being in a long-term relationship wasn’t what you ever wanted. You told me you didn’t love me. So please, tell me why I should have told you?”

“Because,” he said softly, his heart aching as he heard your side of things, “I didn’t mean any of that. I was wrong.”

“Oh, you were wrong? Tell me, were you always wrong, or are you only wrong now that you’ve seen me six months later, heavily pregnant?”

Bradley was speechless. He gazed down at his feet, kicking at the pavement in his golf cleats. He sighed as he thought for a moment, taking a second of quiet reflection to compose his thoughts before speaking. He wanted to get this right. He couldn’t afford to fuck it up again.

“I was always wrong. I was wrong when I said it, and I knew I was wrong,” he shook his head vigorously before looking up to meet your gaze, “Did I ever tell you about my mom?”

“You told me she died when you were a teenager, and you didn’t really mention anything else about her. Or anyone in your family, for that matter.”

“Right,” he nodded his head slowly, taking a deep breath before beginning to explain. “My dad died when I was 2. He was an RIO, a Radar Intercept Officer. You know Maverick, right?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded slowly, a look of annoyance flashing across your face as you listened to Bradley, you were used to his excuses, and you were really hoping this wasn’t another one.

“So, Maverick was my dad’s pilot. Best friends. Did everything together. He was flying when my dad died, their plane lost control, had to eject, my dad hit the canopy. Died instantly.” Bradley paused, taking another deep breath as he felt himself getting choked up, “My mom, she, uh, she was really young. My dad was 25, my mom was 23. He was her high school sweetheart. She was devastated. I was too young to remember a lot, but I remember her hurting, and being sad all the time, unable to function some days because she just missed him so much,” he explained as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“Bradley, I’m sorry,” you sighed, shaking your head as you sympathetically rubbed his bicep to comfort him.

“I just…when she died, she was…peaceful, I guess, because she knew she wouldn’t have to miss him anymore. She wouldn’t be lonely. She never remarried or dated after him, she couldn’t bring herself to. She’s buried with her wedding ring still on her finger. I couldn’t bring myself to take it off her,” he took another deep breath, exhaling sharply before looking up at you.

“I couldn’t do that to you,” he finally said, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over again, “I couldn’t leave you like my mom. Heartbroken and alone your whole life. She never moved on, and I didn’t want that for you if we got married. God, I would have given anything to marry you. I would have taken you to the courthouse and married you on the spot if you would have agreed to it. But, I couldn’t risk breaking your heart. Not like that.”

“Bradley, you’ve always come home in one piece,” you said softly, fingers still stroking his upper arm soothingly.

“But I almost didn’t. I had to eject and all I could think about was you getting that knock at the door and going through what she went through, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do that to you, or…or to a baby.”

You shook your head, processing everything that Bradley had just said as he poured his heart out to you. He’d never opened up like this to you before, but you could tell each and every word was genuine. As much as you hated him for leaving you, you couldn’t deny that you still loved him with all of your heart.

You missed him.

You missed waking up to him after the two of you had fallen asleep watching a movie together. You missed the way he yelled at the tv when watching baseball, how passionate he got over football games, how he’d pick the olives out of his nachos like a toddler and put them on your plate. You missed how he couldn’t eat apples unless they were baked in a pie, how he’d scarf down an entire red velvet cake if you didn’t gently stop him, then regret it hours later. You missed the way his big brown eyes would stare at you, a look of pure adoration on his face like a lovesick puppy whenever you spoke to someone else, as if he was hanging on every single word that fell from your lips.

You burst into tears, throwing your arms tightly around Bradley as you shook your head. “God, you’re an idiot, you know that?” you murmured, laughing softly as you hugged him.

“I know, I’m the biggest idiot. I still would marry you if you let me. I wanted to have kids with you, I want to be around for this one,” he nodded, gesturing his hands at your bump.

“Really?”

“Cross my heart,” Bradley said with an expression of complete seriousness on his face, “I wanna know everything about them. Everything. I wanna know what you’re having, what name you’ve picked out, what your cravings are, how you’ve been feeling, when they move, what does it feel like? I want to know how far along you are, and how they’re doing, if they have my nose or your nose, or if they’re gonna be tall like I am, I want to know what helps you sleep at night when you’re pregnant, and what their favourite song is. I want all of it, honey.”

“Ok, ok, slow down, breathe, Bradley,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “Take a walk with me?”

As you and Bradley walked around the pedestrian pathway on the golf course, smiling as you spoke fondly about the baby, answering all of Bradley’s questions.

“Well, baby’s a girl, I don’t have a name in mind for her yet, I’ve been craving oranges and Sprite, anything sweet and citrusy. I’ve been ok, better now the morning sickness finally dissipated. It feels like bubbles or something when she kicks, it’s like a fluttering, almost? I’m 28 weeks along, so I have about three months left. She looked like she has your nose on the ultrasound, there’s a 50/50 chance on her height, I sleep pretty much sitting upright because I get bad heartburn otherwise, and I play her music all the time. She likes Elvis and The Beach Boys, just like her dad.”

Bradley’s smile spread wide across his face, a small laugh of disbelief escaping his mouth as he nodded along with your words.

“That’s great. A girl? Really? You’re gonna have a daughter running around,” he said softly, almost as if he was daydreaming about what the little girl would look like.

“We are going to have a daughter.”

“You’re gonna let me be there? After everything?”

“Bradley, as much as I hated you for what you did and how you ended things - I never truly hated you. I loved you, more than anything. I still do.”

He held you tightly, burying his face into your hair as he kissed the top of your head, murmuring softly against your hair.

“God, I love you so much, honey. I promise, I’m never going to do something stupid like that again.”

“I know you won’t,” you laughed, shaking your head as he looked down at you, “I know you’d never leave Carly and I again.”

Bradley froze in place for a moment as he stared at you, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke.

“What did you call her?”

“Carly. I thought, I don’t know, after you told me about your mom just now, I thought maybe you’d like to name the baby after her? Carole’s nice too, I just figured Carly gives her a name that’s her own too, they share the same root.”

“Carly,” he nodded slowly as he repeated it, “I love it.”

Bradley took your hand in his, his large fingers enveloping your hand as he held it tightly, as if he was terrified of letting go. He made that mistake once before, he wasn’t about to do it again.

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mothdruid · 1 year

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Concerned Neighbor

pairing: bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader

summary: Bradley and you are neighbors, sharing a duplex owned by Mav. But Bradley never realized how paper thin the walls really were until one night. He learned the difference between your moans, from true pleasure and fake pleasure. He makes it a point to show you true pleasure when with someone.

wc: 4.5k

warnings: 18+, smut, mdni, protected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), oral sex (male and female), vaginal fingering, jealousy, listening through the walls, possessive!Bradley, degradation and praise kinks

a/n: this idea was brought to you by @emerald-chaos and it's also unbeta'd, so don't mind my mistakes pls. and yes, I'm using the same Bradley gif I use for all my Bradley fics.

When Mav first brought up renting out the other half of the duplex, Bradley was hesitant. He had been reminded that it was Mav’s decision and to 'play nice' with the other tenant. And how could Bradley not 'play nice' when you were the person he was sharing a wall with. He would never forget the first time he met you, your smile bright as you awkwardly tried to open your door while carrying a box. That's where Bradley came in, offering to help carry the box. And that was where your friendship began.

Bradley did admit it was nice having you there. You watched his cat while he went on leave, making you its mother practically. Him mowing your side of the lawn, you collecting his mail while he was gone. It created this odd relationship, which created your now bi-weekly dinner date the two of you had. Sharing your company for a little while every so often made him not feel as lonely. Reminding him he still had the proper skills to interact with more than just fellow aviators.

Everything was just going swimmingly until he heard it one night. That's when he started to curse the fact your bedroom was next to his. Only a thin wall separating the two rooms. Bradley assumed that his room lined yours, but this was a confirmation. At first he wasn’t sure if it was all just in his head. He hadn’t been physical with anyone for a long time, so maybe it was his brains way of saying he needed to get a fuck in. But then he heard it again. And again.

It was the sound of you, moaning in pleasure. Bradley wasn't quite sure when his hand had drifted down to his grey sweatpants, palming his growing erection. He hadn't realized how paper thin the walls were, your breathing was almost audible to him. Hearing every moan and gasp you had to offer.

The thought of you touching yourself, vibrator on your clit, or maybe even a dildo inside of you had Bradley biting back groans. It wasn't like he never thought of you as attractive, cause God you were to him. The image of you laid out for him, touching yourself or eagerly taking his cock had him fisting his dick. Your mouth would be hanging open, those moans he was hearing falling past your lips.

It was obvious when you crept closer to your orgasm, moans getting louder and more frequent. So he timed it perfectly, thrusting into his hand and groaning when eventually he heard you hit your climax. He followed suit shortly afterwards, hot spurts of cum covering his stomach. Bradley laid there staring at the ceiling with his hand still wrapped around his cock, wondering how he would ever face you again.

A few days passed and he didn't see you, not really leaving the house in all honesty. Even though he wasn't seeing you, he was still hearing you. Every night he would hear your moans. Bradley couldn't help but take advantage of them every night, fucking his hand and wishing it was you instead. Then one day, he was greeted by a new car in your driveway. He assumed it was a friend, until later that night.

It was almost like a schedule. He would get in bed at 8pm every night, wait about ten minutes, then hear your moans, signaling it was time for him to shuck off his sweatpants. But tonight wasn't like that. He didn't hear anything from your side of the wall until about 8:40pm. He knows because he checked his phone. And the noises he heard tonight weren't the same.

The sounds he heard tonight were a different pitch, not sounding like you. They sounded forced, fake. Bradley even got out of bed to check the driveway, still seeing that unfamiliar car in your driveway. He honestly couldn't bear the thought of it. You fucking someone was fine, but not being pleased and full of pleasure? Hell no, you deserved more than subpar sex. He hadn't even heard the usual climax ending you had every night.

Bradley didn't know how to approach the situation though. It's not like he could just bring it up to you, explaining that he could hear you through the walls. You would definitely move out after that confession he figured. So, Bradley decided not to ignore you anymore. He would come over daily and ask how you were and if you needed my help around the house. Hell, he even mowed your half of the yard. But it got him nowhere.

Bradley was yearning for your bi-weekly dinner, only a week away. He wanted something to happen that night, hoping you'd give him some form of opening. He saw that same unfamiliar car five days before your dinner, making him irritated. Bradley knew he wouldn't be able to take another night of your fake moans, so he left and went to the local bar for a few hours.

When he came home the car was gone and the lights on your side of the duplex were still on. Bradley slipped into his own side, finding his way into bed quickly. He laid there for a few moments, ruminating on the idea of you getting fucked by some random man that didn't even know how to please you properly. After a few more moments he heard it though. Heard you.

It was those soft and pleasure filled moans he loved to hear. They immediately went to his cock. His hand palmed at the front of his boxers, as he listened. Every moan was something angelic yet sinful. Bradley craved to hear them without the barrier of the wall so bad. His hand pumped his cock as he heard your moans pick up.

A heat was rising in his chest and cheeks, his mind thinking about how good you would look splayed out. Legs spread wide, one set of fingers working your clit, while your other hand pumped a dildo in and out of your greedy hole. Bradley bit back a groan, thinking about what it'd feel like to be inside of you. Bradley paced himself with your moans, waiting until the last moment to follow you over the edge. As he laid there on his bed with his spent cock resting against his abdomen, he wondered how he was going to face you at dinner.

The bi-weekly dinner came faster than what Bradley expected. Five days passed in the blink of an eye. But he had heard you every night, and that car never showed back up. He hoped that the car would never show back up again. He wanted you to be taken care of, hoping he would be the one to do it.

You were currently on his living room floor, twirling a stick with ribbons attached to it across the floor for his cat. His cat, Twix, aggressively chased the blue curled up ribbons back and forth on the floor. Twix was a stray that Bradley had found, the short haired tabby keeping him company and not completely lonely. Bradley watched the two of you play as he continued with dinner. He wasn't sure when you noticed him watching, but he couldn't help but smile when he caught your gaze.

God, you were going to be the death of him.

Bradley got out a can of cat food, distracting Twix from the toy you had. After Bradley plated Twix's canned food, he made up both of your plates and took them to the table. There was just small talk through the entire dinner, Bradley not wanting to ruin it with the main topic on his mind.

"You okay, B?" Bradley nodded with a small smile.

"Yeah, I think so." You tilted your head.

"Think so?" You shot him a questioning look. "You know you can tell me." Both of your plates were empty, signaling to Bradley he could finally bring up the subject.

"Who did you have over this week?" Bradley didn't mean for it to come out so demanding. But it did, and there was no way of taking it back.

"What do you mean?" You narrowed your eyes at him.

"There was a car in the driveway."

"Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I can see who I want to see."

"I know you ju-"

"Sorry, I'm not like you." Bradley's eyebrows knitted together, his hazel eyes staring at you intensely.

"I'm sorry, what?" You knew you ticked a nerve.

"Bradley, you know what I mean."

"No, not sure I do. Explain. Now." The tone in his voice sent a chill down your spine. You straighten your posture, interlacing your fingers and placing your hands on the table.

"Well you just. All because you don't bring anyone home doesn't mean I don't have to." You thought it'd be awkward, but it wasn't. Something in his stare had changed, it wasn't intimidating anymore. It was something more playful. A smirk pulled at one side of his mouth.

"Even if he can't get you off." Your eyes grew wide.

"Wha-"

"You think I don't hear you?" You stared at him. A heat started to rise in your cheeks, as well as between your thighs. Bradley had been listening to you? The thought of him fisting his cock while listening to you fuck someone else plagued your mind. "Hear your little moans every night?" That's when it dawned on you. Your room shared a wall with Bradley's.

Bradley took notice of the way your face changed. It wasn’t shocking, more akin to something else. He watched as you took your lower lip between your teeth, gaze looking away from him for a moment. You took your hands from the table, placing them in your lap. Your thighs squeezed tightly as you felt his eyes crawl over you. You had always found Bradley attractive, but never considered the possibility of him coming on to you. The thought of him jerking off to your sounds plagued your mind, showing you just how desperate he actually was for you. Your eyes flicked up to meet his blazing hazel orbs. A surge of courage ran through your veins.

“How many times did you hear me?”

“All of them.” A heat blazed through your body like a forest fire. “You should fuck someone who actually makes you feel good.” Bradley leaned across the table, playful smirk on his lips. “Someone that has you moaning like when you finger fuck yourself.” Your insides clenched at his words, thighs squeezing together once more.

“Is that what you want?” A tension was swirling between the two of you now. The both of you knew exactly what each other wanted.

“Just a concerned neighbor is all.”

“If you’re so concerned about this problem, then fix it.” You emphasized the T at the end of the sentence. Bradley quirked an eyebrow. The two of you stared at each other for a while, only the small bell on Twix’s collar filling the silence.

“You sure you want that?” Bradley asked. “Want me to ruin you for anyone else? Make you come crawling back?” Bradley stood up, taking a few steps until he was standing next to you. You turned and looked up at him, eyes unwavering as you answered him.

“Show me what a ‘concerned neighbor’ can do.” Bradley’s hand moved to your chin, taking it between his thumb and pointer finger. A smirk adorned his face, eyes scanning your face.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty.” Bradley’s fingers started pulling on your chin, hinting at you to stand up. You made your way to your feet, a fire surging underneath your skin. His fingers drifted down your jaw, hand moving to cup the back of your neck. Bradley leaned down, lips barely touching your earlobe. “I can’t wait to hear those pretty moans. The ones you make while you touch yourself.”

Teeth and lips clashed together, neither of you sure who kissed the other first. Bradley’s fingers tightened around the nape of your neck, pulling you closer towards him. His hand grabbed at your hip, kneading the flesh underneath your t-shirt. One of your hands threaded into his honey locks, tugging lightly. They were softer than you had ever imagined.

“Fuck.” Bradley whispered, his hot lips traveling down your jawline to your neck. The hand on the back of your neck disappeared, ghosting down your side to your hips. Rough hands grappled with your waist, kneading at the flesh under your shirt. The tiny hairs of his mustache prodded at your skin, urging you to keep up with him. It was as if Bradley wanted to consume you, know everything your body had to offer.

Bradley needed to know the exact things that made you moan. One of his hands grabbed your ass, pulling you flush against him. A hardness pressed against your abdomen and pelvis, letting you know Bradley was enjoying this. Your hips rocked against his, the hand on your ass trailing to the small of your back. He kept you pressed against him like that as he backed you up towards the wall.

A hand was now pressing on your core, rubbing you over your pants. Bradley pulled back to watch you, listening to your gasps and moans while he provided you with minimal pleasure.

“Must have thought about this for a while, with the way you’re moaning.” Bradley sneered. It wasn’t a lie, ever since you had moved in he plagued your mind. He was your main source of masturbation material, the idea of him being more than just your neighbor.

“What if I have? Thought about this before.” The words were like honey to Bradley, sweet and just what he wanted. Both of his hands went to the front of your body, one moving to work at the button of your pants while the other kneaded your breast.

“Is that what you thought about when you fucked yourself? Wishing it was me deep inside of you?” His hand slipped down the front of your pants and panties, fingers slipping between your folds. A groan tore through Bradley’s throat. “Fuck, how are you this wet already? This wet and we still have our clothes on.”

“It’s been a serious problem.” He covers your neck with hot and wet kisses, fingers circling your clit. They were tight and quick circles, ones that made your abdomen tense up. You knew you would last long, especially at this pace. It’s like Bradley already had a map of your body, with each sensitive spot marked with an ‘x’.

“Should have let me fix it sooner. Not have those useless dudes try to fix it.” Bradley’s tone had your insides melting. All you could do was stare at him, lips parted while moans fell from them. Without warning he removed his hand from your pants, turning you around and pressing you against the wall. His hands hooked into your pants and panties and pushed them down to your knees. His hand returned, this time his fingers tracing your entrance.

“God, this hole is so needy for me.” Bradley pressed two fingers into you, filling you up just the way you needed. He draped his body over yours, pressing your chest to the wall. His mouth nursed at your neck, nipping at the tender spot below your earlobe.

“Only for you, Bradley.” A soft growl came from him, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, stretching you open. A wave of pleasure ran over you as his fingers brushed that special spot inside of you. “Fuck! Ri-right there.”

Bradley added another finger at your words, zeroing in on that one spot inside of you. He could feel your walls clenching, tightening around his digits. He knew you were close and so did you. The tightness in your abdomen was almost unbearable, waiting for the tension to snap. A mix of swears and his name were pouring out of your mouth.

“You sound so fucking good moaning my name.” Bradley’s cock twitched every time you moaned his name. He never realized how much of an effect it would have on him. “Only my name, nobody else's. Nobody can make you feel like this, only me.” Bradley whispered in your ear.

“Only you, Br-Bradley!” You stuttered at his name as you came. The tension in your abdomen finally snapped. Your walls tightened around his digits and he helped you ride out your high. A groan came from him, his forehead pressing tightly to your shoulder as he just felt and listened to you.

A shaky breath passed your lips when he removed his fingers from you. Bradley’s hands found your pants and panties that were still around your knees, pushing them down and helping you fully remove them. He pressed kisses all the way up the back of your legs, biting at the meat of your ass eventually. As your legs regained consciousness, he gestured for the two of you to go to his bedroom.

“If I’m fucking you right, I’m fucking you in my bed.” You nodded, still a little blissed out from your first orgasm. You took the hand he had held out and followed him.

You immediately climbed onto his bed, not waiting for him to direct you. He shucked his shirt off once reaching the bedroom, just in time to watch you. Bradley stood at the foot of the bed, watching you put on a show for him. The skin of your back slowly became more exposed and you dragged your shirt up your body. His eyes scanned your skin, taking it all in as territory that he finally was able to claim. He couldn't help his hand drifting towards his pants, rubbing at the strained fabric covering his cock. He saw the bubblegum pink bralette, making him wonder if your panties were matching. He didn’t pay much attention to them when he took them off you. Your hand trailed up your sides, grabbing at the band of your bralette and tossing it to his floor.

Bradley bit his lower lip, coming around the side of the bed to see you. You turned to him, letting him see you completely bare. Bradley started to kneel at the edge of the bed, his hands moving out to grab your legs. He pulled you closer to the edge, pushing your legs apart and putting your cunt on full view for him.

“Look at you.” Bradley said as he dove between your thighs. He drug his tongue up and down your slit, flicking it against your clit. He brought a hand around your thigh, using his fingers to open your folds even more. You propped yourself up on your elbows, moaning and whining as he feasted on your cunt.

It was as if he was a mad man and this was his only purpose. His mustache rubbed against your clit as he licked lower, your hips stuttering at the sensation. Your back arched when you felt his fingers prod at your entrance again, pushing inside of you while his tongue worked over your clit. Shivers ran through you as the tension in your abdomen returned. Bradley groaned against you, the vibrations making your legs shake. You brought a hand to his locks, threading your fingers through them.

“You taste so fucking good.” Bradley groaned as you tugged at his hair. The tension in your abdomen was tight, threatening to snap at any moment. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking just enough to push you over the edge. His tongue never left your clit, flicking as your body shook with pleasure.

“Bradley! Fuck!” Your legs went to squeeze shut, the sensation becoming too much. But Bradley stopped them, grabbing the inside of your thighs and forcing them open. Your entire body was tight, your orgasm feeling like it was never going to end. “It’s too much! Bradley, please!”

Bradley pulled back after you begged him to stop, letting you finally catch your breath. You laid on the bed, chest heaving from each breath. This was the first time you had ever felt like this, this blissed out from a man. You had enough trouble getting off once during sex with most men, let alone twice. But here was your neighbor, easily pulling to orgasms out of you because he was jealous. That’s when you heard the sound of a zipper, pulling you back from your post-orgasmic thoughts.

Bradley was standing up now, jeans low and open on his hips. His hand was pushed down past his waistband, working his cock through the fabric of his boxer briefs. Steadily you sat up, legs draping down off the side of the bed. You reached out, pulling at the waistband of his jeans. You pushed them down his legs, him kicking them off to the side. Next your fingers trailed around the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Don’t get all shy on me now.” Bradley joked as he watched your fingers slip into the waistband. You flicked him a glare as you pushed them down his legs. His cock was red and angry, standing at full attention. You had always assumed he was big, but this just confirmed your suspicions. You wrapped a hand around the base stroking lightly. Bradley watched with his mouth agape, tongue running over his lips.

You pressed your lips to the tip, licking softly before taking the tip into your mouth. Bradley let out a deep groan as he watched your lips part, taking him into your mouth. He let his head fall back, trying to focus on the feeling of your hot mouth wrapped around his cock. This was a moment he had dreamed of since hearing your moans. But he didn’t know if it was enough. He wanted to be in you, fucking you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I can’t.” You gave him a curious look, pulling off of him. Before you could ask him he spoke, “I need to be in you now.”

Bradley pushed you up the bed, draping his body over yours. He reached over into his bedside table, grabbing for a condom. You watched as he tore the wrapper with his teeth, tossing the wrapper to the floor. He rolled the condom down his cock, running his cock between your folds. Every time his head rubbed your clit you quaked, shocks of pleasure rolling through you.

“God, you’re gonna look so good taking me. Letting me ruin you for everyone else, making sure you only want me.” Bradley settled between your legs and lined up, pressing the head of his cock in your entrance.

A moan fell from you as he pushed in you, stretching you with only the head of his cock. Inch by inch he eased into you, rocking his hips slowly. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, kissing at your clavicle. When he was fully seated inside of you he paused, listening to your breaths. He pulled back to look at you, a look asking for permission on his face.

“Fuck me, Bradley. Make me yours.” Bradley groaned. His hips pulled back, slamming back into you in an instant. He set a brutal pace, heavy deep thrusts as he filled you. He kissed down your neck and chest, kissing at your breasts before taking a nipple into his mouth.

“You’re so fucking dirty, fucking other men while wishing they were me.” His words were intoxicating, speaking truth that you didn’t know he knew. You clenched around him at his words, letting him know he was right. “What a fucking slut. But that’s okay, I have you now. Gonna fuck you so good.” Bradley continued to babble on, talking about how you were made for him and that he was made for you.

“Bradley, you- fuck!” Bradley adjusted, changing the position slightly. He sat back on his heels, grabbing the underneath of your knees and holding your legs out. He thrusted inside of you, immediately hitting that spot inside of you. Your back arched hard, walls clenching around him. Bradley didn’t like to be a two minute man, but the way you were squeezing around his cock was making it hard.

“You feel so fucking good! Fuck! It’s like you’re sucking me in.” Bradley pushed your legs together, leaning over you. He practically had you folded in half as he pounded into you. “Say it, please say my name.” It was almost like a plea when he asked.

“Bradley! Please!” Bradley knew you were close, he could feel how close you were. He was close too, had been close for awhile but was trying to hold out for you. It was all becoming too much for you. You were on the edge of your third orgasm, the spot inside of you being hit over and over again. Bradley let your legs fall apart, finding your clit with his fingers and rubbing it. That was it.

His name was all you said as you came, clenching his cock impossibly tight. Bradley held out for a bit longer, helping you ride out your orgasm. He leaned down and captured your lips with his, a small taste of you still noticeable. You moaned as he pounded into you a little bit more, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

A groan ripped through him as he came, his thrusts stuttered as he unloaded into the condom. He rested his head on your chest, the both of you trying to catch your own breath. You started tracing small circles on the expanse of his back. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you for a moment. Bradley was the one to break it as he shifted, pulling out of you.

“So, problem fixed?” He asked. You rolled your eyes and rolled onto your side.

“I think so.” You responded while yawning. “But I would like to keep it fixed.” Bradley smiled as he stood up, taking the condom off and tying it. He leaned over, placing a kiss on your temple.

“Good, cause I don’t think I can give you up now. Plus, I think Twix would be mad if you stopped coming around.” He helped you stand, the both of you making your way to the bathroom. You sat on the toilet as he cleaned himself with a wet washcloth, leaving it sitting in the sink when he was finished. Twix mingled in between your feet, meowing at the both of you. You gave him a small scratch on the head before leaving the bathroom. You went back to Bradley’s bedroom, crawling into the bed and under the covers. Bradley followed shortly afterwards, cuddling you from behind.

The next thing you knew you were waking up, a heavy weight on your chest. You looked up to find a cat on you, Twix specifically. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you and Bradley must have. Which made you look over, seeing your neighbor in bed next to you. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly open as he slept. A warmth spread in you, knowing that all your problems were fixed.

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roosterforme · 6 months

Text

How You Play the Game Part 5 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley takes the day off from work to spend it with you instead. He has no right to feel as jealous as he does when someone else asks you out, and it leaves him wondering exactly what it would be like to date you. It's obvious you need a break from another night in a hotel room, so Bradley takes you somewhere more comfortable.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, angst, oral and smut (18+)

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

You wiggled around in Bradley's arms as he kissed your shoulder late the following morning. He loosened his grip on you but didn't let go completely, and once you were facing him, he pulled you close so your body was pressed to his from head to toe.

When you kissed him, images of mini golf and a late night dinner filled your mind, and you snuggled in. This was so much more than fucking. This was a full blown love affair. And maybe it was starting to feel too intense and scary because you'd never experienced anything like this before, but this was something you'd never forget. You'd have to fight to get over Bradley, but you would never forget him. And now you were determined to enjoy the rest of your time here.

"Do you want to go eat the mediocre continental breakfast with me before they close everything up at ten o'clock?"

He chuckled, and the sound of it made you smile. He didn't really belong in your world, and you didn't belong in his, but this overlap was something special.

"Yeah, Ace," he rasped, running his fingers inside his Padres jersey which you were still wearing and wrapping his hand around your hip. He lifted his head up and checked the time on the alarm clock. "It's 9:30, Baby. Let's go eat, and you can tell me what we're doing today."

You simply buttoned up his jersey, skipping a bra, and pulled your jeans back on while he also got dressed in yesterday's clothing. On the walk to the elevator, he was looking down at his shirt while he held your hand. "Great. I got maple syrup on myself at the diner."

"That's why you smell so good."

Bradley laughed and backed you up against the wall inside the elevator. "Well, I didn't bring anything else to wear, and you look mighty cozy in my jersey, so I guess you'll have to smell maple syrup on me all day. You look so cute in that thing, I think it's yours now."

You let him tip your head back and kiss you while he ran one sure hand along your butt and gave you a squeeze. Your heart pounded a little faster at the prospect of always having his shirt with you so you could wear it any time. You briefly wondered if you could get away with still wearing it if you ever had a boyfriend, but it was almost amusing that you could only picture yourself with Bradley now.

"Oh, I have an idea," you said, giggling softly as you exited the elevator and led him toward the crowded breakfast area.

"What's that?" he asked, piling a plate full of waffles and drenching them in syrup. Then he muttered, "Fuck it. The shirt's already a mess."

You had to stifle your laughter as you got your own plate of food ready, and then Bradley found a small table with only one chair and quickly claimed it. You set your plate down and he patted his thigh indicating that you could sit on his lap. You'd already had sex with him, multiple times. You shouldn't feel butterflies in your tummy over the idea of the intimacy of sitting on his lap in front of strangers.

"How do you take your coffee?" you asked, bending to kiss his forehead.

"Black," he replied, looking up at you with those big brown eyes. "No sugar."

"Boring," you whispered with a grin that he immediately matched. Then you could feel his eyes on your back as you walked to the coffee station and made one paper cup of coffee just the way you liked it before dispensing his as well. When you turned to face him, his eyes were already on yours, and he was patting his leg like he couldn't stand being without you for another minute.

"Ace," he grunted, raising one eyebrow, and when you set the coffees down, he pulled you onto his lap. "That's better. Now what's on the agenda for the day?"

You kissed his cheek as he took a bite of waffle. "Well, my agenda consists of another exclusive interview and article submission before the game tonight. So I guess it's our agenda now."

"Sounds fun," he said, and you watched him drip more syrup onto his shirt. "Fuck," he growled while you hooted with laughter.

"It's okay. I have a solution," you promised him. And when you were done eating, you took him by the hand and went to refill the coffees. "Let's visit the gift shop."

"Good idea," he muttered. "I need a toothbrush and deodorant."

"And I'm buying you a new shirt," you added once you were inside the small shop. You handed a pink toothbrush and some men's deodorant to the girl who was working, and then you pushed Bradley toward all of the Angels tee shirts, but he was just shaking his head.

"I can't wear one of these. The Padres will know, Ace." But he was smiling as you reached for a red one with an 'A' on the front.

"Which size?" you asked, and when he responded saying he needed an extra large, you looked through all the racks. "The biggest is a large." When you asked the girl who was working if there were more shirts, she shook her head.

Bradley held a size large up to his body and said, "I guess I can make it work. I don't know if red's my color though."

But you took it from his hands and said, "Only one way to find out." Then you charged everything to your room, and Bradley leaned down to kiss your neck and whisper thank you. "It's the least I can do after mini golf and the diner and the baseball tickets and how many miles you've driven to see me."

He followed you to the elevator as he said, "I did all of that because I wanted to."

"And I bought you a shirt, because I wanted to." Maybe you hoped he'd continue to wear it past the weekend. After you were gone. You didn't want to think about it as a frown creased your forehead. But it was like he knew what you were thinking, because he kissed you softly as you rode the elevator back up to your floor.

Once the door closed and you were both alone in the hotel room, Bradley pulled his stained Padres shirt off, and you marvelled at his body once again. Snug jeans buttoned just below his belly button. Tan skin everywhere. Abs that you couldn't help but close the distance to him and trace with your fingers.

Bradley cleared his throat as you dropped the bag from the shop to the floor, and he watched your fingers glide up his abs toward his solid chest. "What time is your exclusive interview?" he asked, his voice rough with need. "And where?"

"At 12:30. Across the street at the ballpark," you whispered, and then he had you in his arms.

"I have an idea," he said, practically carrying you into the bathroom. "Let's take a shower together." You almost wanted to say no. You just knew that having his body all warm and slick and pressed up against yours would be almost too much. But then you were unbuttoning his pants, and he was stripping off the jersey and your jeans.

The two of you made out as he cranked the water to hot, and the room was filled with steam by the time you wrapped your hand around his cock, and he followed you into the shower. Bradley stood behind you, blocking most of the hot spray as he ran his palms covered in body wash up and down the front of you. "Feel good?" he asked, smiling against your skin. Because of course it felt good to have his big hands on your nipples and rubbing your clit just right.

This man barely had to do anything to get you off. Just his deep voice coaxing you along while he touched you. "Love those little noises, Ace. I love it when you say my name."

Your legs were shaking as you whined for him, and his sturdy body was the only thing keeping you upright as you saw stars. You came around two of his fingers shoved in your pussy while you rocked against his thumb on your clit. And before he could agree or disagree with your plan, you were on your knees for him with his cock in your mouth.

"Fuck," he groaned as you took him deep without any warning. You were blinking against the water droplets that hit you in the face as Bradley guided you a little slower with one hand at the back of your head and the other stroking your cheek. "You're the best, Ace," he crooned, the scars on his neck prominent against his Adam's apple and his voice strained. "So fucking good, Baby."

You let him guide you at the pace he wanted it, and you were rewarded with Bradley's voice practically growling your proper name as he filled your throat with his cum. You swallowed him down as you sucked until he had to pull you away from him and haul you to your feet. The shower wall was cold against your back and butt as Bradley devoured your mouth. You knew he must have tasted himself there as he sucked on your lip and licked your tongue.

As the minutes passed, the tempo slowed, and the two of you eventually broke apart with matching smiles. You managed to finish showering as Bradley's rosy cheeks grew a deeper shade of pink. "You're really something else, Ace."

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

"I can't wear this," Bradley murmured as he pulled on the Angels shirt you'd purchased for him after breakfast. You and he really needed to get over to the ballpark so you could interview one of the players, and you looked like a million bucks in your jeans and casual blouse. But Bradley was in his jeans and a shirt that left nothing to the imagination. You could probably count his abs through this thing. But you were gaping at him and mumbling something.

"You look hot," you gasped, eyes growing wider. "Like ridiculously hot, Bradley."

He turned to look in the mirror, and there was a reason he bought extra large shirts. This one actually was a nice color on him, but the sleeves were tight on his biceps, and the whole thing was too snug across his chest. But he supposed it wasn't too terrible. It would get him through the day until he could get back home.

And then what? Would he see you at that same hotel in San Diego again? Would you want him to stay over with you? He was already itching to invite you to his house after the game tonight, but that seemed presumptuous. And having your body tucked against his all night long in a hotel room had some different implications than having your body next to his in his own bed. But he wanted it. He wanted to know what that would feel like. The specific way his own sheets would feel against his bare legs as you whispered good night with his arm wrapped around you.

He shook his head and swallowed hard. "If you think I look okay, then let's get going." His voice sounded strange to his own ears, but you didn't seem to notice as you grabbed your bag with everything you would need and kissed his cheek.

"Seriously, it's almost too hot," you said, rubbing your hand along his belly and biting your lip. "And if anyone asks, you really are my assistant."

Bradley rolled his eyes to make you laugh, but upon arrival at the ballpark, he watched as you were searched for only the approved recording devices, and then he was searched as well. When someone asked him for his credentials, you pulled a pass from the plastic pouch on your lanyard. As soon as the guards examined the card with NEW YORK TIMES MEDIA EXCLUSIVE printed all over it, they seemed to be content to allow you both into the players only corridor.

"Come on, intern Bradshaw. Don't dawdle," you scolded playfully. But when he reached for your hand, you just shook your head. "Not here," you whispered, and then Bradley followed you into a room filled with cameras and players and reporters. Filming was taking place all over the enormous room, and he supposed it would look bad for you if he was holding your hand in the background of a photo printed by the Chicago Tribune.

"Who are you interviewing anyway?" he asked as you walked directly through the room and down another hallway that emptied out next to the Angels dugout.

"Sheldon Darvish."

"Shit," Bradley murmured, because when he looked up, the pitcher who had been carrying the Angels through the postseason was right in front of him. He watched as you greeted the other man like you and he were old friends with a lingering handshake and some laughter.

"Before we go on the record, I hope it's okay that I have a guest with me today?" you asked. "He doesn't have any recording devices on him."

Darvish barely spared a glance at Bradley where he leaned against the wall, nodding at him briefly before turning back toward you and saying, "It's fine with me. I've known you so long, I trust you."

"Okay, perfect," you replied, digging your recording device out of your bag as Sheldon Darvish sat down on the bench and patted the spot next to him. Then you sat awfully close to him and informed him that he was now on the record with you.

And Bradley was starting to have an issue with the way this guy was looking at you. While you kept your posture steady and set the recorder on the bench, Bradley watched Sheldon's eyes dip down to your blouse as you got your notebook and pen ready. And was his smile supposed to look charming when you asked him questions? Because he looked annoying to Bradley. This asshole probably thought he was hot shit, "accidentally" bumping your leg with his a few times.

But this guy actually was hot shit. Bradley listened to you rattle off some of his statistics while Darvish shrugged like his killer pitching was nothing. He would probably be the Angels' ace starter next year. He was most definitely going to get a massive contract extension. His pitching had been phenomenal. He was actually handsome. And he was familiar with you. And now Bradley was wondering if you ever slept with this guy.

The fact that he didn't have the right to feel jealous did not escape him, and Bradley even managed to evade the alarm bells going off in his mind when he told himself to pump the brakes. But then he had to watch as you finally ended the interview and turned off the recording device as you stood, and the pitcher's gaze followed your delicious body as you packed your bag again.

"We're off the record," you told Darvish with a smile. "You didn't hear it from me, but good luck tonight. I know you're on short rest after your last start."

"Thanks," he replied easily, and when he stood, he was every bit as tall as Bradley. Maybe even taller. And now Bradley felt like an idiot standing here in a snug Angels shirt like he was some sort of fan of this guy who was currently asking you out. "Hey, if you're free right now, I'd love to take you to lunch. Anywhere you want. I have an hour or two before I need to start icing my shoulder."

You smiled and shook your head as you backed away. "That's never a good idea, and you know it. But I'm sure I'll see you again soon."

Before you could even turn all the way toward Bradley, Sheldon replied with, "Any time I see your name, I agree to an exclusive. Just in case you've changed your mind."

"Bye, Sheldon," you said with a little wave. Then you walked over to Bradley like he hadn't just witnessed something unsavory and asked, "You ready to go? I need some time to write this up and submit it."

"Yeah," Bradley grunted. And he glared at the major league baseball player who was currently looking at your ass. Apparently you were so far out of Bradley's league, it was some sort of a joke. But he was jealous and annoyed, and on the walk back through the room with all the cameras, he asked, "Did you ever sleep with that guy?"

You glanced briefly up at him over your shoulder, but you didn't respond until you were alone in the hallway. And even then, you kept walking along instead of looking at Bradley as you said, "Are you seriously asking me if I ever had sex with Sheldon Darvish? Have I not made it clear to you that I value my career?"

Your voice was calm, but Bradley could tell right away that you were pissed off. And he didn't think it was because he struck the truth with his statement. He had just offended you and your professionalism. "Ace, I-"

"Did you not hear what he said about agreeing to exclusives?" you snapped as you picked up your pace. "I'm not oblivious to the fact that I am young and a woman. If I slam the door in Darvish's face and start yelling about how unprofessional it would be to sleep with him, then guess what... no more interviews. And that goes for a handful of other players and coaches, too. I can't play the game the same way as the boys, Bradley. It doesn't work that way."

"Shit," he muttered, lengthening his strides to keep up with you as you exited the hallway near the ballpark entrance. "Ace. I'm sorry. I was out of line for so many reasons."

You came to a stop in the deserted concourse and looked up at him with tears in your eyes. "No, I never slept with Sheldon Darvish. No, I don't sleep around when I'm on the job. You're an anomaly, Bradley Bradshaw. And you're free to get in your cool car and go back to San Diego any time you want."

"Ace!" he practically shouted as you turned away, reaching for your hand even though you would probably pull it away. But you didn't. So he kissed you like he'd been dying to for the past hour. Just a short, soft press of his lips to yours, but it was enough to convey what he wanted it to. "I got jealous. I'm sorry. I know you're a pro. I'm just an idiot."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "Are you coming back with me while I write this thing?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go."

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

You sat perched on Bradley's lap while you proofread your newest piece on Darvish, and Bradley rubbed your back softly. As soon as you got back to the hotel room, you changed back into his Padres jersey instead of your stuffy blouse even though you knew you'd have to change back before the game tonight.

"This is really good," Bradley murmured, reading over your shoulder. "I'm still surprised how quickly you can put an article together that makes me want to read it five times to catch all of the details."

Every time he said something so complimentary about your writing, you wanted to tell Greg Pfeffer to fuck off and then stay in California with Bradley. Your phone started ringing on the table next to your computer, and it was Greg himself. You pressed your index finger to your lips, warning Bradley not to talk, and then you answered the call and put it on speaker phone while you submitted your piece.

"Hi, Greg. Perfect timing, I'm about to send in my Darvish exclusive."

"I've been waiting for it," he barked in response. "Thursdays are slow as shit until the Thursday night football stats come in. You know this. I want to get this one online immediately."

You had to stifle a sigh as Bradley tightened his grip on you. "It's not even three in the afternoon here, Greg. But it's nearly finished, so I'll send it over now."

"Don't forget the hard cutoff tonight after the game."

And then Greg ended the call, and you were left with silence. Bradley kissed your neck and whispered, "He's such a fucking idiot. Doesn't appreciate what he's got."

You could count on one hand the number of times you were a couple minutes late submitting an article in the past eight years. And maybe Bradley was right, but there was a price to be paid when you were at the top of your game. And that price was a lot higher for women. You submitted your article and waited for the receipt to arrive in your email inbox along with the daily recruitment emails. There was a pretty good chance Bradley caught a glimpse of the screen before you closed your computer and melted into his arms, but you didn't care.

He held you silently on his lap just like that for a long time with his big hands keeping you warm and the steady rise and fall of his chest calming you. And then you must have fallen asleep. Because you jolted in his arms, and he chuckled, and the light coming in through the window looked different.

"What time is it?" you asked softly.

"Four."

The game was at six, and you didn't want to move at all, so you let yourself indulge in Bradley for a little bit longer. You snuggled in closer and listened to his deep voice make suggestions that you knew you shouldn't consider. "I was thinking... you and I should go back to my place after the game tonight. I really should get to work tomorrow, and you could have a day off to rest before game six on Saturday. You know, somewhere other than a hotel room?"

"Yes." The word was out of your mouth so quickly, and he kissed the top of your head. It had been almost two months since you'd been in your own bed, and now you were curious to see what Bradley's place was like. You were convinced it would be as cozy as he was. "After the game tonight."

When you looked up at him, he was smiling. And that gorgeous smile was still there when you and he arrived at the crowded gate for the game. "Oh, shit. I wasn't even thinking you'd need a ticket," you said as you pulled out your pass. "I doubt there are any for sale, but I can ask-"

"I bought one online while you were napping."

You gaped at him. "How much did you spend?"

"It doesn't matter," he replied, holding up his phone to get the ticket scanned. "Worth every cent."

The warmth you were feeling carried over to the press box where Bradley smiled and waved at Quincy when he turned and glared in your direction. "You okay, man?" he asked him. "Game's happening in that direction." Bradley pointed down to the field until Quincy turned back around. "These assholes really are obsessed with everything you do," Bradley mumbled. "It's like they've never seen a woman outdoing them before."

You had to stifle your laughter during which was becoming a very boring game. After Darvish only pitched four innings, both teams started blowing through their backup pitchers to try to keep the score at 0-0 for as long as possible. Even your stats sheet was boring, and you weren't sure how you were going to make your article interesting.

"I need to find a way to spice this up a little bit," you said before taking a sip from the water bottle Bradley fetched for you. "Because this game is not very interesting."

"I think it's fascinating, but that may just be because I'm sitting next to you," he replied from his folding chair with his leg pressed to yours. "Could be biased. And I can think of a way to spice things up."

You pressed your lips together before saying, "Tell me."

Bradley's eyes landed on the single room restroom as he said, "You're very good at baseball dirty talk. Write that shit into your article, and nobody will know what hit them."

"You really did like that, huh?"

He groaned softly in response, and you had to squeeze your thighs together. "Pitching stats and batting averages in your voice... Baby, it's too damn hot."

You grinned as he was still wearing that snug Angles shirt which would have looked a little silly on most men. When you let your hand come to rest on his thigh at the top of the sixth inning, you whispered, "The Padres have a combined batting average that's almost five percent higher than the rest of the league."

"Tell me more," he whispered, his cheeks already growing rosy.

After you made sure nobody was looking, you wrote down the pitch count and said, "I think it's because they change their batting order so frequently. Keeps the other teams guessing what's coming next."

You cupped his cock and felt him getting harder for you. "Give me a little more, Baby," he rasped.

You giggled as you said, "Did you know the Padres' left handed batters are better even than the 1979 Pirates?"

"Shit," Bradley gasped. "Let's go fuck in the bathroom." His cheeks were bright pink and he was rock hard. You nodded, because you were turned on too. And you knew this was more than just fucking; this was some deeply indulgent reaction you had to each other that needed to be explored. You took Bradley by the hand during the break in the inning, and reached into your tote bag.

"How fast can you be?" you asked as you discreetly held up a condom.

"For you?" he asked as he followed you into the bathroom and started undoing his pants. "Fast."

Your hands were braced on the sink vanity, and your pants and underwear were down around your knees. "Oh my god," you whined as you watched your reflection in the mirror as Bradley sucked on your neck and fucked you from behind. He was going fast, his left hand next to yours while he stroked your clit with his right.

"Usually I like taking my time with you," he grunted. "But a quickie in the press box? I'll be thinking about this for the rest of my life, Ace." Then he met your eyes in the mirror, and you were shocked to find yourself cumming for him as he railed you with sharp snaps of his hips. "Shit, Baby!"

You tried your best to be quiet, and as soon as Bradley came, you spun around while he was catching his breath. "I'm going to sneak back out first," you whispered, kissing him hard on the lips and then fixing your pants. "See you out there."

You still had quite a few condoms left in your suitcase which made you smile. And you would be heading to Bradley's house in a few hours which made your smile grow. When he returned from the bathroom a minute later with his cheeks still pink and a little grin on his face, you had to cover your lips to keep from laughing.

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

You were back on Bradley's lap in your hotel room as you finished your article. But this time your bags were all packed, and you were ready to return your rental car and hit the road with him. He was taking you back to his house, and he couldn't be happier. Granted, he was working very hard to keep himself from thinking about what was coming later this weekend.

"Why are my notes blank right here?" you asked him, raising an accusatory eyebrow in his direction as you tapped your notebook.

"Oops," Bradley replied, reaching around you to playfully add some text to your paragraph. He spoke out loud as he typed, "And this is the part of the sixth inning that I missed because I was in the bathroom with Bradley."

You laughed and backspaced the sentence as you said, "I mean, that would definitely spice up the article!"

"It was kind of a boring game five. I mean, the Padres only won by one run."

"I know," you said as you typed up some flowery nonsense about how the quiet crowd at Angels Stadium was an asset to the Padres. "Let's get out of here," you said, submitting your article.

"Wait, you don't have to rush," Bradley replied, stilling your hands. "We can return your rental car and get on the road anytime."

"It's okay," you whispered. "This is as good as it's going to get. And my article will still be better than Quincy's."

"I don't doubt that," he said with a yawn. "Damn it, Ace. You're wearing me out."

After Bradley followed you to the rental car drop off, he hopped out of the still running Bronco and added your bags to the back. When you returned the keys and headed back toward him in the beams of his headlights, you reached for him. "Want me to drive so you can get a nap in? You have to work early tomorrow, and it's almost 11:30."

He didn't really want to miss a waking minute with you, but he was exhausted. And a ninety minute drive now would probably leave him in a zombie-like state at work tomorrow. "You don't mind?"

"No," you replied, and he walked you to the driver's side door and got the seat adjusted to where you needed it.

"Thanks," he whispered, kissing you in the dark parking lot as he cupped your cheek. He helped you up and closed the door, and as soon as he entered his address into your phone GPS and handed it back to you, he was falling asleep.

The soft music you selected on the radio sent him into some sweet dreams where you were still his at Thanksgiving and for Christmas and even on New Year's Eve. He dreamed about spending his birthday with you and his friends at the beach. And when he woke up to your soft voice and your hand on his leg, it just made sense.

"We're here, Bradley," you were saying with a smile in your voice. "Wake up." And when he opened his eyes, he'd never seen anything prettier. Being near you just seemed right.

"Thanks for driving," he rasped as he sat up in his Angels shirt that he kind of couldn't wait to take off. "Let's get all your stuff inside." Really, you only had one piece of luggage and your tote bag. He could hardly understand how you stayed away from home for so long with so little. It made him feel sad as he carried your things inside.

He knew his house was small, but it was comfortable and clean and everything he needed. But you gasped when you entered the cottage as Bradley turned on some lights.

"Your place is huge!" you sighed, walking around and looking at his large TV and some of the photos of his parents that were hanging up. "And really tidy for a bachelor pad."

You were grinning at him as he led you to his bedroom. "Not sure if I left unfolded laundry on my bed. I was in a rush to get up to Anaheim to see you." But luckily his room was tidy, too. And you kicked off your shoes and started to undress like you belonged there as he set your bags down.

"I need to charge my computer," you mumbled, walking around his room completely naked. "Can I borrow a shirt for bed? And where's your bathroom?"

Bradley pulled a TOP GUN shirt out of his drawer and handed it to you with a kiss. "Across the hallway." He watched you retrieve your toiletry bag and walk out of the room. He almost never had anyone else spend the night here with him. Occasionally Nat would pass out in the other room, and very rarely he'd let a girl stay overnight. But the last time that happened had been quite a while ago.

But the way you waltzed back into his room with your face clean of makeup and hugged him around the middle left him breathless. "Thanks for bringing me here. I can't even tell you how draining it is to always be in a hotel room. I just did the math when I was brushing my teeth: I haven't been in my own apartment in forty-nine nights."

Bradley was flabbergasted. "Forty-nine?! Ace, that's... way too many!"

"I know," you replied with a laugh. "And it'll probably be ninety before I get back there."

Bradley shook his head. "Come here." He tugged you toward his bed and pulled back the covers for you. "Get comfy. I'll be right back."

While he brushed his teeth and rinsed his face, Bradley thought about how you probably needed someone to take care of you occasionally. He wanted to do it. When he returned to his bedroom in his underwear, you looked so tiny wrapped up in his bedding with your head on his pillow, but you were smiling.

"You do whatever you want tomorrow, okay? But I think you should rest," he whispered as he climbed in bed and pulled you close. "Help yourself to whatever is in my refrigerator. Use my washer and dryer. Look at the baseball cards in my garage. Whatever you want. But try to relax while I'm at work."

"Yes, sir," you mumbled against his shoulder. "Thanks for reminding me I need a break."

Bradley grunted in response and turned off his lamp, but the darkness just made his senses more alert. When he kissed the top of your head, he could tell you weren't asleep yet. He ran his hand down your arm until he was holding your hand, and he couldn't hold back the words that he spoke. "Tell me what it would be like to be in a relationship with you."

When you didn't respond right away, he felt embarrassed. He'd made a jealous fool of himself earlier over Sheldon Darvish when he had no right to you whatsoever. And now he was trying to push things too far. He was about to apologize as you kissed his shoulder again.

"Nobody actually wants to date me," you said softly. "Guys just think they do. They love the idea of me, I guess. And maybe they could even grow to love me. But it's too much for them. It always is. I'm never around, and it's impossible to get in contact with me when I can't take my phone into a four hour exclusive. And I'll miss your birthday and our anniversary," you said as you laughed a little bitterly. "I stopped celebrating my own birthday when I turned twenty three and couldn't figure out which day it was as I flew to Europe for the Olympics coverage."

Bradley squeezed you and whispered, "I didn't ask what other guys thought, Ace. I asked what it would actually be like."

Once again, he was met with silence, and he realized it was because you were trying not to cry. He whispered an apology against your forehead as you said, "Parts of it would be fun, Bradley. But the other parts would be too hard, and I wouldn't want you to feel bad about losing interest in someone who you never saw."

He tipped your head up and kissed your lips. "I wouldn't lose interest. And I just really want to watch the Blue Jays with you."

You returned his kiss before you whispered, "I know." And then he let you turn so your back was to him. A minute later, you reached tentatively with your hand until you found his. Bradley let you wrap yourself up in his arms, and eventually you both fell asleep while he kissed your neck and tried not to tell you how he was really feeling.

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

He just wants to watch the Blue Jays with her. That's all he wants. This story is making me a lot more emo than I anticipated. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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hellosmuttydarling · 24 days

Text

Shower Time

Summary: Walking into the wrong place, at the wrong time, seems to work out in your and Rooster's favor. In which, some private time in the shower turns into something far better.

Warnings: Smut, masturbation, oral sex, fantasizing. MINORS DNI.

Rooster wiped the sweat off his face with his towel as he entered the locker room. He could hear the shower running already and realized with a small flash of annoyance that it would mean he'd have to wait. He sat on the bench next to his locker and was about to pop in his headphones when he heard a sound.

A moan, to be exact. Rooster froze as he heard another one coming from the direction of the showers. When he stopped and listened, he realized that it was definitely a moan and a very distinct moan of pleasure. Only one person could be in that shower right now, making sounds like that.

You. Something had been between you two since you'd met on the first day of training; chemistry mixed with the competitiveness of the training made for a very frustrating relationship, but he couldn't help but be attracted to you. You were gorgeous and a great pilot but beyond infuriating.

The next moan left no doubt of what you were doing in there, and he could feel the heat washing over his body, his dick already hardening in his athletic shorts. His hands gripped the bench so hard that his knuckles turned white, and with each succeeding sound you made, all he could think about was how badly he wanted to walk over there.

"Bradley…" the moan was quiet and breathless. If he hadn't had all of his focus on what was going on over in that shower, he might have missed it. His decision was made instantly; he stood up, dropping his things onto the bench and peeling his shirt off before he stalked over to the shower.

The sight of you simultaneously took his breath away and also turned him into a man possessed; there was no way he was leaving this shower without fucking you senseless. You were standing there, naked and soaking wet, the water from the shower pouring down your body, following all of your curves, with your legs slightly spread and your hand in between them, circling your clit with your thumb as you fucked yourself with your fingers.

You were oblivious to the fact that Rooster was even there. The tension and flirting from the last week and a half had driven you crazy all night till you found yourself at the gym on base at 5:30 am, trying desperately to let off some steam. It almost worked until Bradley Bradshaw, of all people, walked in and, before long, was glistening with sweat, his breath coming out in hard, short bursts. All you could think about was seeing him like this but in a completely different setting, with far fewer clothes, and instead of lifting weights, he'd be lifting you.

It became too much when paired with the heated looks between you two, so you bailed back to the locker room, planning on taking a very long, icy cold shower before training.

You didn't know how you ended up here, getting yourself off to the same dirty thoughts you'd had while watching him work out. You did know two things: First, you desperately needed a release, and second, you were almost there.

Your fingers were delving in and out of your folds, your other hand playing with your breasts, when the voice you last expected to hear came from way too close, and your eyes snapped open.

"Want some help with that, honey?"

Fuck.

There was no use in covering up; you knew he'd already seen your entire naked body and that he'd seen what you were just doing. He'd almost certainly heard you moaning his name, too.

Fuuuuuuck.

"You could have at least let me cum before interrupting me, Bradshaw." You did your best to sound nonchalant, and luckily, your face was already flushed, so he wouldn't be able to see the heat of embarrassment rising to your cheeks.

"Bradshaw, huh? Just a second ago, it was Bradley." He sauntered over to you, and you looked him up and down, taking in his incredibly delicious shirtless form.

"I'd call you Bradley again if you hadn't just ruined my orgasm." He finally reached you, stepped into your personal space, and backed you up until you were pressed against the cold tile of the shower. One of his hands came up to rest on the wall next to your head, and the other came to rest on your bare hip, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin. Your traitorous, dirty mind sending thoughts of what that would feel like somewhere else.

"I'm sorry. How about I make it up to you?" He'd leaned down so that your lips were a breath away from meeting his.

"And how are you planning to do that?"

"I'll show you right now if you'll let me." Bradley was ever the gentleman.

You didn't say anything in response, answering instead by pulling him in for a heated kiss. Kissing him was everything you'd hoped and dreamed it would be. He was a phenomenal kisser, clearly experienced, and while you hated to admit it, clearly dominated you in every delicious aspect.

There was no point in wasting time when he already knew you'd been about to cum at the thought of him. The hand on your hip quickly moved to your thigh to lift your leg and hook it around his hip so he could be closer to you.

You could feel how hard he was, even through the shorts he was still wearing; his cock was pressed against your stomach. You trailed your hand down his chest to his stomach, dipping just slightly underneath the waistband, enough to tease him just a little bit. His abs contracted under your touch, and his fists clenched at his sides. What little clothes he wore were quickly getting drenched under the shower spray, but he didn't seem to care at all.

You broke apart for air, and he immediately went for your neck, kissing and biting his way down; you moaned as he got to just the right spot. Hearing your reaction, he doubled down with a hard suck, sure to leave a bruise, but at that moment, you didn't care.

Your hand went into his shorts, grasping his dick firmly, and marveled at the size. You couldn't see it, but fuck could you feel it, and goddamn, did you want it inside you. His head dropped to your shoulder as you started to pump his length with your hand, a quiet groan escaping him.

"Fuck," It took all his willpower to stop you, pulling your hand away from him. "I believe I owe you something."

"Yes, you do." Before you could blink, he dropped to his knees in front of you, pulling your thigh up over his shoulder and slowly kissing his way up your thigh.

"What were you picturing? When you moaned my name?" He said as he inched higher, his positively sinful brown eyes locked on yours. Had his eyes always been this dark?

"Not this," he bit down lightly at the most sensitive part of your inner thigh. "You, inside me. My legs were on your shoulders as you fucked me against the wall, hard."

As a reward for answering his question, he finally moved right where you wanted him. He used his hand to separate your folds, and then his mouth was on your clit, his tongue starting slowly and softly before starting to work up his rhythm.

You were a mess of moaning and pleading. Rooster ate you out like a fucking professional, listening to every intake of breath and every moan, having quickly learned what you liked and how to use it to get you undone, and fast.

"Holy fuck," Soon, two of his fingers joined his efforts, delving inside you, matching the pace of his tongue. "Goddamn, Bradley…"

You knew there was no way you would last like this, not with how amazing he was making your body feel. You were practically seeing stars and were begging him not to stop. A true testament to his experience, he didn't slow down or speed up, knowing how close you were. He maintained the speed and rhythm that was already driving you crazy.

"Bradley… I'm going to cum…" You looked down at him, kneeling in front of you, leg thrown over his shoulder, dark eyes locked on yours, as he ate you out like he was on a fucking mission. The sight alone had you starting to fall over the edge, but when his fingers curled and hit just the right spot, you plummeted head-first into her orgasm. "Fuck!"

Another testament to his experience, he knew exactly what to do to prolong your orgasm without ruining it, leaving you a shaking, moaning mess. Soon, though, your flesh became far too sensitive, and you pulled him up to kiss him. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his mustache. You'd never been a big mustache girl, but on him, you loved it.

"Please tell me that you're going to fuck me now," you all but whined when you pulled apart. The answering smirk on his face promised delightful things.

"Your wish is my command," He pushed his shorts and underwear down his legs and kicked them to the side, and you finally got your first look at his hard cock. You thought it was big before when you'd felt it, but now you could see that it was huge, and for a second, you worried it might not even fit, but you decided that you didn't care. "Come here."

You obliged, wrapping your arms around his neck as he brought your lips back together and picked you up in one fluid motion. Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, and from the new position, you could feel the tip of his dick rubbing against you, and all you could think about was that you needed more. He pushed you back into the wall before pausing to look at you.

"Are you sure?" You both knew that after this, there would be no going back to how it used to be.

"Yes." It was all the confirmation he needed, pushing into you gently but firmly. You couldn't help but gasp at the intrusion, feeling mildly like you were being split in half, but it was both slightly painful and exquisite because you had never felt this full before. Your gasp was met with a deep moan from Rooster as he seated himself to the hilt.

"You're so fucking tight," He gave you a second to adjust, and when you nodded, he withdrew almost completely, just to bury himself nice and deep. He swallowed your moan with a kiss, your tongues battling for dominance as he fucked you slowly.

Soon that familiar pressure was building up slowly in your body, and you knew that when you came, you were going to cum hard.

"Hold on to me." You nodded, not able to form words as he shifted your legs from his waist to having the crook of your knees slung over his elbows, changing the angle and allowing him even deeper. With his next thrust, you almost screamed but managed to choke it down.

In this new position, he set a grueling pace, fucking you hard and fast, with you doing your damnedest to not be too loud, but the way he was fucking you made that incredibly difficult. You were getting so close to reaching that peak again when the door to the locker room opened and slammed shut.

The two of you froze instantly, not wanting to be caught in a more than compromised position but unable to separate without making quite a bit of noise. You could make out a few muffled voices belonging to some of your squadmates but had no idea what they were saying. Someone must have noticed Rooster's things on the bench because soon they called out to him.

"Rooster? That you?" Fanboy called from far too close for comfort. The only bit of luck that seemed to be on your side was that even if one of them came into the showers, they wouldn't see any part of you besides your arms and legs, as opposed to the unobstructed view they'd have of Rooster's incredible ass and chiseled back.

"Yeah." His dick was still hard and practically pulsing inside you. Your brain and body were currently fighting a desperate battle over wanting to finish what they'd started but not wanting to be caught fucking on base, in the locker room, right before training.

"We're going to grab breakfast. Are you in?"

"Yeah, I'll, uh, meet you there."

"Sounds good." The voices drift further away, and you both hear the door again open and shut. Your head fell onto his shoulder, and you released the breath you'd held.

"It is, apparently, not my morning." You said against his skin, and he responded with a dry chuckle.

"Not mine, either." You gasped slightly as he gently pulled out and set you back on solid ground. You pulled away from him and took in his face for a second, the tensing in his jaw and darkened eyes. He was the picture of annoyance, and you were positive your face mirrored his.

"I'm going to get out of here before we risk being discovered, for real this time," you leaned up and kissed him one last time, purposefully keeping it short, not wanting to be any more sexually frustrated than you already were. "Come find me later?"

"You got it, honey." You rinsed off and headed out of the shower, ignoring every part of you that wanted to say fuck it and turn around.

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make-me-imagine · 2 years

Text

Torture

Plot: Rooster makes a bet with Y/n that if he can beat Hangman's flight time on a new training course, he gets a kiss. Y/n agrees, but this means no kisses for Rooster until he wins.

Requested Prompt: "You owe me a kiss." Requested By: Anonymous

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x GN!Reader *Reader is referenced of having the call sign 'Caelus' (Roman God of the sky)

Warnings: Kissing, if that wasn't obvious from the description lol

Words: 1.3k

Your eyes glanced over the other pilots as they ran past, completing their workouts for the evening. You silently thanked yourself for having worked out earlier in the day rather than now after a long day of flying.

Hearing the padding of footsteps coming from behind you, you assumed it was just another student on a run, until you felt large arms wrap around your waist suddenly.

You let out a gasp as you were lifted off the ground, followed by a familiar laugh.

You held in a laugh as you groaned out "Put me down Bradley!"

As you were placed not so softly back down, you were spun around and pulled into Bradley's chest. He grinned down at you with a dopey smile that you couldn't help but smile at in return.

"Hey sunshine." He said softly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Still smiling, you pushed him away with a fake grimace "Ugh, So sweaty!"

He let out a soft laugh "Oh come on, it's not that bad."

You let out a soft giggle as he pulled you towards him again, his arm slung over yours shoulders. As you began waling towards the barracks, you wrapped your arm around his back.

"I hope you're going to the showers."

"I just happen to be, why, wanna come with?"

"You wish."

"Yes, I very much do." He replied quickly with a smile as he looked down at you and wiggled his eyebrows playfully. You rolled your eyes, but let out a soft giggle.

"Hey Rooster, Caelus!" You and Bradley both looked over as Coyote ran past "You hear that Hangman beat the record on the new training course?"

"What time did he get?!" Bradley called out.

"Three fourteen!" Coyote yelled back as he continued running.

You looked up and saw Roosters contemplative face. Looking down at you he nodded lightly "I can beat that, easy."

You squeezed his side "Sure you can big guy."

He looked down at you with a face akin to offence "You don't think I can?"

You let out a soft laugh "I know you could. And, I know you are going to try your hardest, but, not because you want to get a good time, but just because you want to beat Hangman."

"Yeah, and whats wrong with that?"

"You get flustered when you get competitive."

"So,I make mistakes?"

"I did not say that!"

He smiled teasingly before he nodded "I bet you, I can beat him."

Reaching the barracks you stopped at the door "Oh we're betting now are we?"

"Oh yeah." He took a step closer and leaned down a bit "I bet you a kiss I can beat him."

You shook your head as you smiled at him "And if you don't beat him?"

"You get to say I told you so."

You hummed "Nah, not good enough."

"Okay, I'll buy you dinner."

You let out a dramatic gasp as you placed your hand on your chest "He knows me!"

He chuckled as he stepped closer, pulling you towards him "So we got a deal?"

You eyed him, before an idea popped into your head. "Okay, you got a deal." You gently pushed him away "Now go shower before you attract the wildlife."

He let out a small bark of laughter "Okay, okay."

Before he left, he started pulling you closer again, leaning in for a kiss. Lifting up your hand you placed it on his lips, stopping him.

You saw his eyes dart from your hand to your eyes, his brow furrowing. Stepping away from him you repressed a grin, pulling open the door behind you.

"Sorry Roost, but no kiss until you win the bet."

You saw his lips start to curl into a smile before he paused and his face dropped. "Wait, seriously?"

As you stepped inside and let the door go you nodded "Seriously"

Seeing the look of offense and shock cross his face just as the door shut between you, you were unable to hold back the laugh that bubbled up. 'That should motivate him' you thought to yourself as you headed towards your quarters.

--- --- ---

You sat with Phoenix, Coyote, Hangman and a couple other students in the training room, eyes on the screen at the front of the room as Bradley began to start the training course.

You had gone earlier in the day, getting three minutes twenty three seconds, and scoring third in the class so far, only two seconds slower than Phoenix. You hoped for Bradley's sake you'd be fourth at the end of his turn, and that he'd be first.

Glancing over at Hangman, you saw a cocky grin on his face. Looking over, he locked eyes with you and winked. You rolled your eyes before looking back at the screen. You hoped Bradley would wipe that smug look off his face.

More than way through the course, you were hopeful, and Hangman was clearly nervous. Bradley was already three seconds ahead of Hangman's time, but you knew he could lose that lead quickly.

"Come on Brad." You whispered to yourself.

Another minute later and your cheering, Phoenix is clapping beside you, both of you relishing in the angry look on Hangman's face, as the time on the screen read three minutes and ten seconds.

"He got lucky." Hangman offered as he began to leave.

"If that's what helps you get to sleep at night Bagman." You said over your shoulder as you headed out the doors to meet Bradley.

As you walked across the tarmac, you could see the grin on Bradley's face from a mile away as he came out of the hangar. He spread out his arms before he spun around in celebration. You let out a soft laugh as you bowed jokingly.

"Now was I good or was I great?!" He called out.

You smiled and nodded your head, allowing him to gloat "You were great." He grinned as he stopped in front of you "I just wish you could have seen the look on Hangman's face when you beat his time."

He groaned "Oh God I bet that was great."

"His ego definitely took a hit."

"Eh, he'll shake it off, unfortunately." A grin spread across his face. "Now, if I am correct, which I know I am. You owe me a kiss. Actually, scratch that, you owe me four."

"Oh do I now?"

He nodded "Yeah you do. Since you decided no kisses until I won the bet. Last night, no good night kiss, that's one. This morning, no good morning kiss, that's two. Before I flew the course? No good luck kiss, that's three. And now, number four because I beat the course. And I think four works great, seeing as that's how many seconds-"

You let out a laugh before you leaned up quickly, grabbing his face and pressing a kiss to his lips. You felt him freeze for a second before he melted into the kiss. Pulling away you giggled softly as his soft eyes gazed at you.

His lips curled into a bright smile "It was torture not kissing you, you know."

You smiled up at him, your hands still holding his face "Was it?"

He nodded "Absolute torture. I live off those kisses."

"Then I'm sorry I deprived you of them."

He nodded "You should be."

Pulling his face down lightly, you kissed him again. His hands gently grabbed your waist, and as you pulled away he softly hummed. "Two."

Another kiss, this time his arms wrapped fully around you as he pulled you closer. When you pulled away he kept his forehead pressed against your own as he brought his hand up, caressing your face "Three." He muttered.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed again, the fourth owed kiss. He squeezed you closer as he deepened the kiss, briefly lifting your feet of the ground as he did so.

Finally pulling away, a little breathless, he cupped your face. "I love you sunshine."

"And I love you Bradley." Pressing another quick kiss to his lips before pulling away from him, you smiled "That one was for free."

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

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topgun-imagines · 11 months

Text

Something In The Orange

Requested: no

Summary: When Mav pulls Bradley’s papers, you have no idea. You only find out when your boyfriend dissapears in the middle of the night.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: smut, blowjobs, handjob, oral sex (male & fem!receiving) fingering, penetrative sex, foul language, loss of virginity, angst, break ups, crying, fights, insecurity, complicated relationships, drifting apart. Please let me know if I missed anything! 18+

Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader

Bradley was the first person that you ever really loved. The two of you had met during your junior year of high school. Ever since then, the two of you had become inseparable. You finally started dating the summer before your senior year. Bradley had applied to USNA and you had a scholarship to go to law school in Texas. Even though you had only been together for just over a year, you felt like you would spend the rest of your life with Bradley.

Now, you were riding shotgun in Bradley’s blue Bronco. You were on the way back to his house. His fingers were intertwined with yours as he pulled up to the sidewalk. Your boyfriend pressed a kiss to your knuckles as he shut the truck off. Hopping down, he rounded the front of the truck and opened your door for you.

The two of you walked hand in hand toward the door. The house that he, Mav, and Ice were staying in had light blue siding and a large white front porch. There was an American flag hanging from the roof of the porch and a large elm tree in the middle of the unfenced yard. Ever since Carole passed a few months ago, Mav and Bradley had been staying with Ice.

You were quiet as you slipped into the darkness of the house. The two of you giggled quietly as Bradley led you up the stairs and into his bedroom. The sound of the door clicking softly behind you mixed with your laboured breaths was all that could be heard in the tiny room.

Tonight was finally going to be the first time that you and Bradley had sex. And while Bradley had some experience in this field, you had no idea what you were doing.

Bradley’s hands settled on the side of your face as his lips moulded together with yours. You melted into the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth when it traced the seam of your lips. A quiet, high-pitched whine escaped you as his tongue tangled with yours.

He pulled away a few seconds later, laughing quietly as his forehead knocked against yours. “You gotta be quiet baby.” There was a sheepish smile on your face as a blush crept up your chest. Mav and Ice were right down the hall. You didn’t need them to hear anything of what was about to happen.

Suddenly, Bradley’s mouth went bone dry at the sight of you sinking onto your knees. You stared up at him as you brought one hand up to palm him through his jeans. He tossed his head back in a moan as you squeezed him softly.

Your boyfriend was panting when he looked back down. Slowly, you started to pull the zipper of his fly down. Then, as if you were teasing him, you popped the button on his jeans before dragging the material down his legs. That left him standing in front of you in nothing but his boxers. The sight made your mouth water.

With wide eyes, you glanced up at Bradley. He nodded encouragingly and sucked in a sharp breath when you began dragging his boxers down his legs.

His cock slapped against his stomach as you pulled the fabric down. There was a look of concertation on your face as you reached a hand up and gripped the base of his dick. It was one that Bradley had seen so many times before, usually when you had your nose hurried in a book. This time, however, was much less innocent.

You began moving your hand up and down his length, stroking him until he was fully hard.

By the time you were satisfied, there was a few drops of precum leaking from the head of his cock. The tip was an angry red colour. The whole time your hand was moving over him, you had been transfixed by the sound of his desperate moans and whimpers.

Bradley noticed the hesitant look in your eyes as you stared at the way his hips bucked in desperation. His hand settled against the soft skin of your cheek. “It’s okay, honey. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You instantly began shaking your head. You wanted this.

Sucking in a shaky breath, you steeled yourself before tentatively wrapping your fingers around his cock once more. You gripped him firmly, leaning forward until your breath was ghosting across his tip.

When Bradley felt your puckered lips press a soft kiss to the crown of his cock, he had to stop himself from cursing aloud. You slowly began to grow more confident. Eventually, you were licking a stripe up from his balls to his tip, slipping the plush head inside your mouth afterward. That time, Bradley did curse.

You began suckling on the first few inches of his cock. You hollowed your cheeks as you began bobbing your head up and down, trying to recall any tips or tricks you had heard from your friends.

Bradley groaned above you, head tossed back against the door as his hand wove into your hair. A surprised moan vibrated from your mouth and through his cock when he tugged on your roots. Your tongue traced the vein on the bottom of his cock as you pushed yourself further and further down him until you were gagging around his length.

A choked gasp escaped him as he pulled you off his length. Bradley was panting as your hand continued to move slowly up and down his shaft. There was a devilish look in your eyes as your hand trailed down to his balls. You grinned as you squeezed softly, rolling them around in your hand.

“Get up, Honey,” His eyes were hooded, pleasure clouding the now-dark irises. You obeyed, standing before him as his hands gripped your hips. Harsh enough to leave bruises. You slipped your shirt over your head, grinning at the way Bradley’s eyes were focused on your tits. Your breath caught in your throat at the intense look in his eyes when he made eye contact with you. “I’m gonna make you feel real good.”

You allowed Bradley to lead you back toward the bed. Your knees hit the back of the bed, causing you to fall onto the soft sheets. Bradley knelt between your spread legs. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the hungry look in his eyes.

Before you knew it, Bradley was slipping your shorts down your legs. Your breathing grew heavy as he began peppering kisses over the supple skin of your thighs. He kissed his way up to your center, leaving delicate purple marks in his wake.

Soft moans escaped you as he began to press gentle kisses over your clothed cunt. The cotton slowly soaked through.

Bradley looked up at you, eyes silently asking if you were sure about this. When you nodded your head softly, he grinned. Seconds later, the fabric was being dragged down your legs slowly. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his tongue trailing up the inside of your thigh.

The next thing you knew his lips were wrapped around your clit, causing your hips to buck wildly off the bed. You moaned loudly. Bradley's eyes darted up to yours, a cocky smirk on his face. “You gotta be quiet, baby.” He reprimanded you gently.

Over the course of the next few minutes, Bradley ate you out like a starved man. He had your legs thrown over his shoulders, one hand gripping your leg while the other pinned your hips to the bed.

You did your best to control your moans, even going as far as biting your own hand to keep yourself quiet. Bradley’s tongue laved over your dripping hole. A high-pitched whine fell from your lips at the feeling of him slipping his tongue into your hole.

You could feel the pressure building in your lower stomach. The feeling kept building and building, so much so until you couldn’t hold back any longer. Just as you were about to fall over the edge, the feeling disappeared completely. “I want to cum around me.” His words alone we’re almost enough to send you over the edge.

He slowly crawled up your body, hands skimming gently over your soft skin. His hard cock brushed against your lower abdomen as he settled on top of you. You grinned up at him and he gave you a reassuring smile in return.

Bradley pressed a plethora of kisses to the side of your neck. Pleasured gasps tumbled from your mouth as your back arched off the bed. “Condom,” You moaned out. “Bradley get a condom.”

Feeling his body weight disappear for a few seconds, your eyes fluttered shut as you waited for him to return. When you felt the bed dip beside you, a flush began rising up your chest. Your eyes opened slowly, taking in the sight of Bradley kneeling above you, fisting his cock slowly. You moaned at the sight, watching as he rolled the condom down his length.

Nerves filled you as Bradley lowered himself onto you. “You ready baby?” You nodded, sucking in a shaky breath as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds. When it swiped over your clit you let out a sinful moan. Bradley groaned at the sound.

He stared deep into your eyes, reassurance shining through. Slowly, inch by inch, he eased himself into you. Your lips parted in a silent scream, suddenly overwhelmed by the intrusion. Bradley lowers himself down, cradling you to his chest as he whispered sweet nothings into your damp hair.

Before you knew it, Bradley was seated balls deep inside of you. You panted harshly at the stretch, eyes screwing shut at the foreign feeling. “Tell me when.” Your boyfriend's voice was low and raspy as he fought his hardest to restrain himself. You were clenching so beautifully around him that he almost lost it the second he slid in. You nodded distractedly, willing the slight discomfort away.

After a few minutes, you nodded softly. “Please just,” You murmured quietly, still trying to catch your breath. “Just be gentle.” Bradley smiled down at you. You knew that he would, you just needed to remind him.

Bradley began slowly rocking into you, only slipping out a few inches before pushing back in. You moaned at the feeling, eyes rolling back as his tip brushed against a spot so deep inside you it made you want to cry.

The only sounds that could be heard in the small bedroom were the sounds of yours and Bradley’s joint moans mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin. Your boyfriend's hips rutted into yours quickly, drawing cry after cry from your parted and cracked lips.

Dropping his head into the crook of your neck, Bradley let out a deep groan at the feeling of your wet cunt clenching around his cock.

The feeling from earlier returned. You could feel the hot white pressure building, a coil tightening more and more with each of his sharp thrusts. You hardly noticed the way his pace grew sloppy. His warm breath fanned across the skin of your neck as you arched off the bed.

The sound of Bradley letting out a high-pitched whine had you gripping his cock like a vice. “Please Bradley,” You begged breathlessly. “‘M gonna cum,” Bradley nodded, eyes screwed shut as his hand drifted down to your core. “Fuck!” You exclaimed at the feeling of his fingers circling your clit in tight, precise patterns.

That coil was winding tighter and tighter, right up until one final nudge of his cock against that little spongy spot inside you sent you falling quickly over the edge. Bradley followed close behind, hot spurts of cum filling the condom as your cunt milked him dry. He continued to rock into you, working the pair of you through your intense highs.

He stilled inside of you a few seconds later. The pair of you continued panting as you wound your arms around his back. You stared up at the ceiling, a blissed-out grin on your face. you were so glad that you and Bradley had finally done that. All the nerves and worries from earlier had disappeared completely once Bradley first slipped in.

That blissed-out smile soon turned into a wince when he slipped out of you. He crawled off of you and dropped the used condom into the trash can. Bradley disappeared to the washroom. You followed on shaky legs. Bradley stood in front of the toilet, finishing his business before stepping over to the sink.

You sat down on the toilet and shot him a lazy grin. Once you were finished you flushed the toilet, cringing slightly at the sight of blood in the bowl. You had heard that that could happen but it didn’t make you any more comfortable.

Hand in hand, you and Bradley made your way back toward the bed, collapsing onto it in a fit of giggles. You snuggled together under the covers, your head resting on Bradley’s sweaty chest and his arm tucked under your shoulders.

Your eyes slowly fluttered shut, the post-sex haze making you feel sleepy. You tucked yourself under Bradley's chin, snuggling into the crook of his neck. “I love you, baby girl,” You heard him whisper. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer into his warmth. “Please don't ever forget that.” You hummed quietly, murmuring something along the same lines. Your words were slurred as you allowed sleep to pull you under.

“I love you too, Brad.”

The roar of Mav’s motorcycle was what woke you up in the morning. You stretched with a yawn, frowning when you felt the empty bed. You sat up, blinking quickly as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. There was an orange glow streaming through the bedroom window and a quick glance at the clock told you it was just before 6 o’clock.

You got dressed slowly, guessing that Bradley and Ice were sitting downstairs having breakfast. However, the house was eerily quiet. Usually, when you stayed the night, you were woken by sloppy kisses being peppered across your face or the sound of Maverick and Ice laughing downstairs.

As you headed down the stairs, you continued to grow confused. You couldn’t even hear the scraping of utensils against plates. You rounded the corner into the kitchen, eyebrows furrowing when you found Ice sitting at the counter alone. He had a note clutched in his hands.

“Ice?” The sound of your voice caused his head to whip up. There was a sadness in his eyes, one that suddenly made you question why Mav sped off so fast this morning. “What’s going on?”

You sat down across from him, eyes the paper in his hand suspiciously. “Morning kiddo.” He had a sad smile on his face.

Worry grew in the pit of your stomach. “Where did Mav go? And,” You paused, glancing around the room in search of your boyfriend. “Where’s Bradley?” Ice almost didn’t want to tell you what happened.

He sighed, glancing between the note and your curious and oblivious eyes. “Look kiddo,” The Capitan started. He really didn’t know how to explain it to you in a way that wouldn’t destroy you. Honestly, he wasn’t sure that that was possible. “Just, just read this.” He handed the paper to you. It appeared as if had been crumpled and balled up multiple times. There were dark spots that you guessed had come from tears.

The letter was addressed to you and Ice. You found it odd that there was no mention of Mav. As you read through it, any hope that you had that everything was going to be okay died. It was from Bradley, explaining that due to the recent actions of Maverick, he couldn’t stand to live anywhere near Ice or Mav. He didn’t want them to have any say in what he did with his life. Nowhere in the letter did it explain why he wanted that.

“So,” You choked out, staring at the letter as you spoke to Ice. “What is this supposed to mean?” You stared at him, hands beginning to shake and tears welling in your eyes.

The older man stared at you with sympathy. “Bradley left last night,” A sob bubbled out of your chest. “Oh honey,” He cooed, pulling you into his chest as you cried. “Mav did something stupid and Bradley decided to leave,” His hand moved up and down your beck softly. “It’s not your fault.” He promised quietly.

You pulled back, breathing fast and hiccuping as you tried to calm yourself down. “Please Ice,” you practically begged him. “Please tell me that you’re kidding?” There was a sad smile on his face. You broke down into tears once again. “No,” You gasped out. You could feel your heart pounding on the inside of your skull. “He wouldn’t leave. Not after last night.” The reminder of what happened last night froze you in your tracks.

How could he do that after what happened last night? he knew how important that was for you. Apparently, it didn’t mean as much to him. Out of all the ways that you would have guessed this morning would go, either eating breakfast with your boyfriend’s makeshift family or sneaking out when no one was looking, you never thought that Bradley would have disappeared in the middle of the night. You never imagined waking up to find out that your boyfriend had left you without a goodbye after the night that you had spent together.

You had been there for him when Carole passed, holding him for weeks after he dealt with the loss of his mother. And now, he couldn’t even say goodbye or explain to you why he was leaving. There was hardly even a mention of you in the note he left. You thought that you at least meant a little more to him than that.

“What happened last night?” Ice’s question drew you out of your daydream. You shook your head. You felt as if you were going to be sick. Before Ice could stop you, you were rushing to the backyard, pacing around the deck as you sucked in laboured breaths.

The sliding door closed softly behind you, alerting you to the man's presence. Ice took a seat on one of the chairs, patiently waiting for you to explain why you were suddenly so distraught.

A humourless laugh escaped you. You couldn’t even begin to feel embarrassed about what you were about to admit, too consumed with a mixture of worry and betrayal. “We slept together last night. For the first time.” It was hardly a whisper and in the background noise of Miramar waking up, it was almost drowned out completely. And yet, Ice still heard you loud and clear. He heard the tremble in your voice as you spoke and he saw the way your hands shook.

Ice remained silent, watching as you stopped pacing. You set your hands on your hips, staring out over the fence at the rising sun. With a sigh, the Capitan stood from his seat and walked over behind you. “I just can’t believe he would leave.” You whispered brokenly. Bradley meant the world to you. It sucked learning that you didn’t mean enough for him to stay.

The pair of you stood on the edge of the deck in silence, Ice’s arm wound around your shoulders as he tried to comfort you. “I know,” He whispered. “I’m so sorry.” Tears fell down your face in steady streams as you came to terms with what happened.

Bradley had left. And as you stared at the orange hue tinting the sky, you knew that he was never coming home. You didn’t even get to say goodbye to him. Ice held you as you cried, wishing that this was all just a bad dream.

You spent the rest of the summer trying to move on from Bradley. It didn’t work, you knew it wouldn’t, but you couldn’t deny the small sliver of hope in your mind that one day Bradley would come home. He never did, and so, in the fall, you boarded a plane for Texas. Ice had dropped you off. He saw the distant and longing look in your eye. The spark that had once been there had now died.

While you were away, you and Ice kept in contact. You hardly spoke to Mav. Ever since Bradley had left, the man that had once been like a father to you wanted nothing to do with you. Ice could have told you why but honestly, you didn’t want to know. Bradley hadn’t even bothered trying to contact you. You didn’t know whether you appreciated that he stayed gone, or if you resented him for ever leaving in the first place. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you knew it was closer to the second option.

Years later you graduated law school and went on to become a lawyer. Time went on and eventually, you didn’t think of Bradley every day. There were some days when the memory would pop up again, reminding you of all the pain you left behind. Each time it happened, you wished that you could forget everything about that small town. But, you could never be able to forget Bradley Bradshaw. After all, he was the first man you ever loved.

a/n: Thank you all so much for reading! I hope everyone enjoyed this as much as I loved writing it ☺️ requests are open.

Tagging: @topguncultleader @t0kyoreveng3rs @soulmates8 @there-goes-thefighter @blueoorchid @dreamgirl3300 @atarmychick007 @alexxavicry @bradleybeachbabe @chaoticassidy @genius2050 @ice-doc-val @nyx2021 @aviatorobsessed @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @natt-67 @anglebabyange @oliviah-25

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feralforfrank · 1 year

Text

morning run & disturbed dreams.

BRADLEY "ROOSTER" BRADSHAW X FEM!READER

cw fluffy drabble, NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER

masterlist | taglist

It's the soft tickling on your bare shoulder that disturbs your sleep. You try to ignore it, focusing on not losing the deliciously good dream you were having, but the feeling intensifies. You swat your shoulder with your arm, pushing away the object of your growing annoyance.

A low chuckle fills the room as your skin makes contact with skin. The culprit of this crime—the crime being you losing grasp of your dream—sneaks his hand under the blanket, laying it on your stomach, which is bare, for your shirt has risen. The palm touching you isn't cold, but it disturbs the warmth of your skin, making you jolt.

You groan and bury your face deeper in your pillow as the evil man behind you chuckles louder now. You whine for him to stop, but he ignores you, kissing your neck and shoulder blade again.

The tickling resumes, but the kisses are feather-soft, and you're sure he's smiling by the way his moustache and lips feel on your skin.

"Fuck off, Roos," you mumbled sleepily.

"But you look so cute like this," he murmured in your skin.

You could feel his smile widening. "Tickles." you roll your shoulder, and he finally moves away, burying his face in your hair instead.

"I'm goin' for a run," he says quietly and you hum. "I'll be back with breakfast." You hum again.

"And coffee," you mumble with your eyes closed.

Bradley kisses your head. "Whatever my girl wants."

A faint smile graces your lips at the words. Bradley gets off the bed, and you hear him shuffling around the room. Soon, he's ready, grabbing his phone from the nightstand.

You're awake enough to say a thankful goodbye. "You're the best, Brad."

Rooster chuckles at the change of attitude. Not long ago, you were telling him to fuck off. Nevertheless, he moves to your side of the bed, pushing a strand of hair away from your face and kissing your forehead.

You fall asleep with a smile on your face.

[ taglist @roosterschanelslut @maverick-wingman @amnmich @mattyskies @wildcole @gretagerwigsmuse @bespinnn @oikawasblueearbud @rip--tide @barryswifey @fanboyluvr @spookys-girl @lonelywitchv2 @j-deimos @heywheresemily @avengersfan25 @piceous21 @sarahjoestewy-blog @n3ssm0nique @mouseymagines @xx-kate-xx13 @vaporub4ever @reading-rosa @marie1115 @dxvanadeline @plaboneruda @awesomebooklover17 @mxlsmith @mak-32 @torresbarnes @depressed-focker @kwanimations @magicstrengthandcourage @graysondanvers @danielmarie @giuliamunson @bordelhoe @studentville-struggles @melody-death @desert-fern @marvelsimps @darling-seraphina @erinnn-brry @mvnsons-slvt @darklordofthesimp @eberles ]

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #rooster x reader #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster fic #miles teller #miles teller x reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun fic #fluff #established relationship #frank writes

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stargazing15 · 1 year

Text

Little rascal

A little fluffy dad Rooster drabble

A/N: yes I have a lot of wips, no this was not one of them. Hehe woops

Enjoy!

"Babe, seriously, is that the only thing coming out of his mouth?" Bradley sighed in frustration at the sight of his son. Oh, it was that type of day.

Yup, little Nick learned that you reacted when he said "mama" and has been saying it ever since, to everything and everyone. And when home you got an extended concert of "mama mama mama mamaaaaa". For you it was funny, but Bradley's pride got hurt Nick still wasn't saying any form of 'daddy'. And just like that mister grumpy chicken was back and sulking around the house.

"Earth to Bradley! The man is 14 months old, you know he even calls Mav 'mama'. And Penny, oh and even the lady from the bakery. So for the moment you're 'mama' too."

Bradley made himself smaller to be at eye level with Nick. "My sweet little boy, daddy's sorry, but you would make daddy's day a lot better if you would say 'daddy' for me, or 'dada', I could live with that too, please?"

"Honey, I seriously doubt your cute puppy eyes will work with Nick. You know his are cuter." Even Nick agreed with a "Hehe" and continued babbling in his own language.

"It was worth to try," Bradley smiled softly, "if you don't mind I'm going to the grocery store, can you help me with the list babe?"

"Of course, here you go. And can you bring my Bradley back?" This time it was you showing off your puppy eyes, in hope to make a little smile appear on your husband's face and it worked.

"Thank you for understanding, I'll try to find him." He said before giving you a small kiss.

"Well, actually thank you, now I don't have to go to the grocery store tomorrow, extra play time with Nick. Take your time, I know it helps to cool down after a heavy day."

"See you later babe and you, be nice to mommy, okay?" But Nick was still strolling around with his walker like a little madman guarding the house.

You had this feeling, so you took your phone and put the camera on. Mostly your gut feeling was right and Nick was about to do something funny. You had just touched the button to start filming when it happened.

"Dada? Dadaaaaa! Dada. Dadaaaaa?" Nick was saying while pointing to the door. Oh yes he did, and you were filming. The moment you stopped filming you made a little squeal, startling your son.

"I'm so proud of you little big man, and dada too, I will text dada immediately."

You: right after you left <attached video>

You heard Bradley's car arrive 30 minutes later and he was humming, Bradley was back, he left mister grumpy chicken behind.

"Hi babe, I'm back," he gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before putting the groceries on the counter top, "and hello to you too little man. You made dada's very good." And ruffled through Nick's hair, making him babble something at the action.

"Mama mama, waaaaaah." Nick babbled to his father.

"You little rascal, you're lucky I love you."

As soon as Bradley was around the corner to put the last things away Nick did it again. "Dada." Resulting in you and Bradley laughing at the little goofball. Bradley came crawling from around the corner going straight to Nick to start tickling him.

"This time I heard it!" Bradley laughed with Nick. You joined them on the ground to help let Nick win the little tickling contest.

Taglist: @mrsjaderogers @bradleybeachbabe @iamdannyday @rhirhikingston @mavrellover91

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster #bradley bradshaw #dad!bradley bradshaw #dad rooster #dad bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster fic #top gun fanfic #top gun: maverick #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw fanfic

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notroosterbradshaw · 11 months

Text

warm blood

about: a few drinks at everyone’s favourite bar. you’re home, it’s been a few very cold months at sea. he warms you to your bones each time you see him. but it’s sadly just not meant to be.

word count: 5.6k

warnings: angst, language, vivid thots of smut if you have an over-active imagination.

The sound that escaped Rooster’s lips as you dragged your nails through his unruly sun-kissed curls had you cackling. A feral growl that started at his boots, so low that when released, he almost didn’t recognise himself. “Rooster Bradshaw, you need a girlfriend,” you decided.

His side-eye to you was legendary and he sighed dramatically. “I don’t need a girlfriend; I just need to get laid,” he clarified, realising just how pitiful he sounded and then adding softly when you ceased your ministrations, “Please don’t stop. That feels so fuckin’ good. It’s like the most physical contact I’ve had in...” he mumbled, his honey-coloured eyes fluttering closed and took a deep, satisfied pull of his beer. God, how long had it been? He didn’t want to admit to himself, let alone you, how long it’d been since someone had touched him like that.

You sighed and let go of him to scamper onto the bar. A quiet Tuesday night, if it were the weekend, the place would be pulsating, but you had plenty of space to lay some affection on Rooster without the bullshit that could generally come with it and it definitely seemed like he needed it…

You spread your legs modestly (as your jeans would allow) and held out your hands open in welcome. Without a question of hesitance, he stepped to you as you turned him away from you and continued to press your fingertips into his scalp with the added leverage of this new height. His strong shoulders dropped, completely melting with your touch.

“Jesus Christ, that’s good,” he murmured quietly, crossing his arms across his chest, his head lolling forward. “And you decided to be a naval aviator?” he teased. “Your hands could have been better used in much better ways.”

“Ha,” you muttered behind him. “Don’t get smart. I have generous fingers. You need me more than I need you right now.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he replied.

Whispered close to him, you said, “This must be the longest dry spell you’ve ever had,” you reckoned.

He nudged his ear closer to your breath and shrugged lightly. “Fuckin’ feels like it,” he said dismally.

“How long?” you dared ask.

“It’s goin’ with me to the grave, don’t ask stupid questions,” he muttered dryly in reply as you tried to hide your grin and reached for a sip of your own beer. He turned back to you, stepping out of your grasp and putting a respectful distance between your bodies, the moment passed. You crossed your legs at the ankles properly as he made a face; he’d let pretences lie and would never admit he hadn’t been satisfied sexually since... “Maybe you’re right, I just need a girlfriend.”

Sure, he’d had a lot of sex and lots recently, a healthy amount. Probably more than most. But these days, nothing was fulfilling him. He was desperate to find a connection with someone that just wasn’t happening. Women on platters, and he didn’t know how to strike out even on his worst night. Everyone would cum and have the time of their lives. But it was never enough for Rooster to want to see them again.

“Rooster, you have no trouble finding someone to fuck… why are you so off your game?”

“Dunno,” was his simple answer.

“Well, why don’t you go drag all the ladies in with a song or something?” you suggested, hoping to perk him up, ever his cheerleader, although it was fairly dead. He shook his head and honestly, he didn’t need to sit at the piano to have all eyes on him. At any point of the night, you’d look up and find some poor soul caught staring and trapped in the web of Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw and the authority he easily demanded.

“Naw,” he didn’t feel like the spectacle tonight.

“Want me to wing woman for you?” you offered in finality. “Babe on the other side of the bar. Pretty smile, curvy...” You chewed your own lip. “Very cute.”

“You’d do that?” he asked, following your gaze and kudos to you, you knew his type, all right.

“Of course. I can’t deal with you when you’re being a whiny little bitch. If it means you get your cock wet, I’m here for you, pal,” you roughly smacked his rosy cheek, and he laughed, clutching the sting as you asked him how you looked, propping yourself off the sticky bar and he steadied you.

He gave you a once over, a fond glance in his dark eyes. “Beautiful, but are you trying to get laid, or am I?” he pondered.

“I swore off your kind as a New Year’s resolution. I want the year to myself,” you grandstanded, and he chuckled.

“You’ll be begging for sex soon enough,” he straightened and took another long slug of his beer. “I know you. I know what you need,” his voice dropped a little lower, easing his lean frame against the bar.

Your eyes met his and honestly… he probably knew exactly what you needed, what you craved and deserved and as a few beats passed, his eyes daringly never left yours. His face remained passive, daring you to play his little game.

“You know what I let you know,” you weren’t sure how to play his words off so you finished your beer. But really? You hated how right he was. He’d been the only one to get a read on you when you first landed yourself in his seminar a year or so back. “I’ve got toys, I’ve got fingers,” you reminded him, reaching for him with jazz hands as he licked back his grin, growing wider by the second.

“You fuckin’ deviant,” he breathed. It was untrue, but he loved to goad you… and you loved when he teased you too. Just a little too much.

“Hey. If I want to find someone to share my time with, I won’t hesitate to break my resolution. They’re made to be broken, aren’t they?” you shrugged flippantly, blood searing under your skin.

He nodded, not disagreeing. “Yeah, well… I’m sick of my hands,” he admitted dismally as you took the hand that rested on his quad and cupped it on your own. He laughed quietly and gripped your palm back. “I just miss the warmth, you know?”

Pressing the back of his warm, strong hand to your cheek, he laughed again as you gave him the biggest doe eyes with the dreamiest, forced smile, and he sighed. Each touch, each glance, each comment was just another link to how fucking good your friendship was and although the Navy had an odd way to keep you separated, your friendship trumped responsibility.

“Don’t start. Knock it off immediately,” he told you sternly. He could fall for those eyes in a heartbeat so it was best you put them away. You prayed desperately for him one day to give in to the heat and make that move past that imaginary line you had drawn.

Moving back to your seat like a scorned child, you didn’t give up. It could be one of your worst qualities at the best of times. Never knowing when to just shut up. “No, tell me exactly what you miss. Tell me what you need.” You settled in. You would love to know what turned Rooster Bradshaw on. He wasn’t like the other guys – he kept his conquests quiet. Lowkey. Sure, you knew when he was in the game, he made no secret of his intentions. But gee, he always seemed more complicated than an easy fuck kinda guy. “I want to know.”

“You don’t need to hear about any of that stuff,” he rolled his eyes and retrieved his hand, stuffing it back in his jeans pocket where it was safe and sound. “Trust me, you’ll be just like me soon enough,” he warned.

“Look, if you get to a point you’re absolutely desperate, blue from top to toe, I’ll drop my standards for a night and give you a night you won’t forget, okay, big guy?” you tried to bite back the laugh that bubbled under the surface and you weren’t remotely surprised he gave you the bird in response. “You’re just lazy. Go drop a line on any woman in here, and I guarantee, she will be putty in your hands.” You’d know.

It seemed like such a nut-up or shut-up order, Rooster knew he had no choice but to follow through. Standing to his height and adjusting to his posture, he mumbled, “Fine,” he stole your fresh beer as you protested and wandered around the bar, stopping before the gorgeous woman, who if truth be told, was exactly his usual type, you’d pointed out only moments earlier. Well, what was expected to be his type - that glint in her eye that told him he wouldn’t have to work too hard to get her number either.

“Hey hey, look who’s back on dry land!” Natasha grinned, giving you a gentle side hug and ordering a drink. “When you’d sneak in, partner?”

“About half an hour ago. Your buddy cornered me first,” you explained as Natasha replaced the beer in your palm. “How’s he been?” you asked softly.

“Okay,” she shrugged. “Usual. Broody.”

“He was telling me he was lonely,” the word didn’t roll off your tongue easily even if it was something so synonymous with Rooster’s character.

“Shit, really?” Natasha raised her bottle as you nodded. “Anything to be wary of?”

“Don’t think so. You know how he is,” you told her, and she knew. Only Bradley Bradshaw could be so lucky as to always have you and Natasha Trace in his corner. “Oh, look,” you said as he nodded to you gratefully across the bar, and you winked back. “There he is - back in the saddle with absolutely little to no effort on his behalf. Well done, Rooster,” you said bored and just the teeniest bit sarcastic. “Bra-vo.”

“Please, if you had the chance, you wouldn’t share him,” Natasha righted you, smirking behind the pull of her beer.

“What can I do?” you admitted, thinking the idea had crossed your mind once, twice or every night since you’d met him about what it might be like to be the object of Rooster Bradshaw’s affections. C’mon, you weren’t immune to him. In fact, it was anything but -

“Please, he almost came in his jeans as you played with his hair before.”

“What?” you and Natasha yelped as Jake sidled up to you, grinning.

“You were playing with his hair?” Natasha asked, raising a curious eyebrow. “Oh, wow,” her tone told her everything she was thinking and none of it was approving.

“Hold that thought,” you hissed at her as she raised her palms for mercy, a small smile burgeoning on her lips. “And, fuck off, Bagman. Isn’t there some pathetic 21-year-old looking to be treated like shit for a few weeks while you string her on?” you muttered. Jake made a face.

“I’m just sayin’… wouldn’t be the worst thing if you guys tested the waters. See if there’s any sexual chemistry. Might even make Rooster a tolerable human being but it is behaviour like that that’ll get you both kicked out of the Navy.” Jake added as you threw a few loose salted peanuts at him. “Hey, I’m allergic!” he feigned, dusting himself off as he wandered off with a snicker, pleased he’d managed to rile you up with, really, very little effort on his behalf.

“I’m only learning he’s allergic to peanuts now?” you muttered to yourself.

“He is so fuckin’ toxic,” Natasha sighed. Toxic, realistic, honest. There was a lot to be said about Jake Seresin and his perception of the world. But you also kind of loved his lack of filter and how he called it as he saw it. Bit like yourself, he just had his head shoved far further up his own ass than you did… mostly.

“It’s actually his most likeable attribute,” you reckoned with a tease, tossing more peanuts across the bar after him for good measure. He made a face but was completely unaffected.

“But he doesn’t make a terrible point…” she continued as you both looked towards the other side of the bar, watching Rooster and the ease he roped his conquest in. Lick of the lips, make sure those golden biceps were bulging, aviators sliding gently down his nose as he gazed down at her… wait, there you go. She easily took the bait and nervously pushed the glasses up as he huffed a small chuckle at her moxie. He pulled his phone from his pocket a few moments later and handed it to her, clearly asking for her number. You had to give her kudos – she resisted his charms for about 1.6 seconds.

“Don’t be like that,” you begged.

“Like what?”

“Trying to encourage this. I’m dumb enough for him as it is.”

Nat gave you a tight-lipped smile and apologised. She understood, dear lord, she understood how you felt and while she could tease you unmercifully about it, she knew this wasn’t a passing crush for you. She gave her attention back to Rooster and muttered, “It’s like a car accident but I can’t look away.”

“Good for him,” you muffled, wrapping your lips around the bottle and taking a deep slug as she nudged you.

“Remember why you swore off all sex and relationships this year,” she said softly. “The purge.”

“This purge is for good,” you reminded yourself, saying it a few times like a mantra. Pity you didn’t believe it in the slightest. “You’re remarkably light tonight.”

She shrugged modestly and went into the small, very necessary details about her afternoon delight. “Don’t you miss the intimacy though?”

“Natasha, I know I made my bed and have to sleep in it, but I miss everything. I just want to come home and fall into someone’s strong arms, ground me, remind me I’m safe again until the motion of the waves stops rocking me.”

Natasha looked at you fondly. “That is actually quite poetic.”

You sipped your beer, pushed out an exhale and added drily, “Then get absolutely pounded on every surface of the house until I’m weeping.”

She cackled. “That’s my girl.”

“I got off the boat today... had the biggest plans. Wine, new rose toy I was dreaming about for the last three months... motherfucker needed to be charged.”

“You got two hands,” Phoenix reminded you just as Rooster had.

“Every night at sea, Phoenix,” you reminded her. And she knew. Dear God, did Natasha Trace know. “Every night.”

“Penny, can we get a coupla rounds of tequila here, please? Our girl is going through it,” Natasha smiled at the pretty bar owner who winked in the affirmative. You away from Rooster although Natasha motioned in his direction. “So, how was he when he saw you?”

“That slow grin… ” you said low and only for her ears. “The way he moves to his feet is a fuckin’ sin. He looked so good, I think I probably stumbled,” you cursed yourself.

“Sea legs,” Natasha patted your wrist and tried to make you feel better.

“Sure,” you shrugged flippantly. “Three months away did absolutely nothing to shut this little crush down.”

“That’s what you’re going with? Little crush,” Natasha repeated with a snort as Penny put a series of shots before you and took one quickly with you and Natasha between patrons.

“Little crush?” Rooster’s hands were on your shoulders, his strong palms massaging your tense shoulders, thumbs pressing into the nape of your neck and every ounce of tension drained from your being as he poked his face into your intimate twosome, a curious grin on his face as you and she straightened up quickly, turning to face him and he released his grasp on you. “Who has a little crush?” he asked, remarkably perkier than he was ten minutes earlier.

“You’re still here?” you asked him. “Thought you’d be on your way to - ”

“Amelie’s,” he supplied.

“That’s quite sweet actually,” you noted as he nodded, amused, almost like you couldn’t imagine a more beautiful name being found in a place like The Hard Deck. “Amelie’s house…”

“We said we’d meet up a bit later,” he shrugged, catching Penny’s attention for another round. “Been a while since we were all together. We missed ya, kid,” he told you as he snuck a shot. Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Well, here I am,” you forced a grin as he mirrored yours and it spread as wide on his handsome features.

“Yep. You sure are. Back where you belong,” he said as the air around you changed, and Natasha would be lying to say she’d never felt more like a third wheel in her life. She watched you watch the other, it was almost like you were daring the other to look away first. She could feel whatever it was between the two of you and knew that it was much deeper than either of you would admit. Well, she knew exactly how you felt. With Bob back in Lemoore with his family and Natasha needing another partner, you had been brought in and the PR party the Navy had with you as an all-female team? Sheesh.

She also knew how much you would risk everything to be with him. She’d never outwardly encouraged it, but she could see how hard you both fought to keep your desire for the other in check. He did better at trying to conceal it, but it was written all over your face. You looked at him like he hung the moon.

“Wanna get really drunk tonight?” you asked him, wrapping an arm around Natasha’s shoulder.

“Hey, don’t rope me into your hangovers,” Natasha tried as you covered her mouth with your free hand.

“Hush, love,” you tutted her. “You’re either with us or against us.”

She pursed her lips as you and Rooster grinned widely at her. “…you two will be the death of me.”

Cheering together that you’d drawn her with such little effort on your behalf, Rooster laughed. “Yeah, kinda think it’s a good night to get messy.”

“Natasha Trace, line ‘em up,” you instructed as she begrudgingly nodded, and Rooster rubbed his hands with glee.

“I am not good,” you told Rooster a few hours later. Rooster could readily agree that neither was he. Natasha and the rest of the team had bailed a while ago, leaving you together at the bar. “I really have to go.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replied. “Getting drunk wasn’t going to help you get over any exhaustion.”

“I haven’t slept in…” you squinted at your watch. “Wow, 36 hours. My bed is going to be so good tonight,” Bed, bed, bed. “Oh shit, Amelie!” you exclaimed, sipping your ice water. “Wasn’t she waiting for you?”

He shrugged. “Five minutes of pleasure there, three hours here with you and our friends. I know where I’d rather be.”

“Five minutes, dude,” you giggled quietly. You didn’t believe it for a second.

“I didn’t exactly see forever with her, Jesus,” he muttered, licking back a smirk of his own.

“I would never believe that anyway.”

“Thank you,” he finally let a giggle bubble out. “And you shouldn’t.”

“Did you at least text her? You were interested three hours ago…”

“I think she put her number into my phone wrong,” he lied so easily it was almost disappointing.

“Rooooster,” you dragged out.

He shrugged. “So what? Changed my mind,” he said simply.

“Hey, you two,” Penny sniped, pulling your attention from each other. “You either get a cloth and start cleaning up or you think about getting outta here, so you don’t have numbers in your system in the morning,” she warned. The bar had long since rang the last call and you were the last patrons standing – but also, on the plus side for Penny, probably the evening’s highest paying.

“Sorry, Penny. Lemme pay,” Rooster said, getting his credit card from his wallet and tossing it on the gummed-up bench. She grinned and slid the card back across the bar as Rooster protested.

“Hangman took a chunk of the bill off earlier. I’ll let you two get away with a few freebies if you lock the door on the way out?”

“Oops,” you said, picking yourself up and stretching. “We will,” you said as you collected your belongings. “Sorry again.”

She gave a gentle nod as you headed for the door. “Someone will be,” she whispered to herself solemnly.

“I’d better walk you home, I guess,” Rooster said, waving goodnight and following you a careful distance away.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said as he opened the door for you and let you out into the cooler night air. The liquor in your system swept a series of goose pimples break out as the breeze off the ocean breeze hit your skin. You shivered instinctively.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yes, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, I’m perfectly fine,” you answered, rolling your eyes and inhaling the sea air. “You think I’d get sick of it, right?” you asked with a grin.

He didn’t even need you to explain yourself. “Never,” because he understood the feeling implicitly.

“Never,” you repeated as he nodded towards the beach, following the path to your place.

You walked in a comfortable silence for a while and before you realised it, your villa was before you. “Here we are. I actually can’t wait to get to sleep in my own bed.”

He grinned. “One that doesn’t rock.”

“Not tonight it won’t,” you said glumly, taking his comment as a double entendre as he giggled quietly even though he was probably being purely innocent in his commentary, following you to the door. You struggled with the key for a few moments before he carefully nudged you aside and remedied the situation at hand.

The door opened and he sighed. Relieved, disappointed, he didn’t know. “I’ll see you tomorrow, huh?”

“I am off until next week,” you told him. God knows you needed it.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he reiterated with a gentle smile, but if he meant the bar, you couldn’t fathom backing up from the eventual hangover tomorrow was sure to bring. It filled you with dread.

“Yessir,” you mumbled as you stared at the other for a moment. So much to say that would always remain silent. For any other two people in the universe, right now you would be taking those last steps closer, lips tenderly brushing the others and seeing if the kiss was right. He would lay his strong, calloused palms on your hips, squeezing you closer to rest your body against his and you would willingly encourage the kiss -

Yet here you were, taking that next step in the other direction to go to bed alone, without even the slightest touch to say goodnight; no whisper of a whiskey-laced caress to dare cross your lips. And all you really wanted was to take his hand and guide him to your room that he’d never seen the inside of, strip him down, and explore the body he worked so hard on perfecting. Let him discover your body with his hands, with his lips, his tongue. Find out what made you call his name out in the dark.

See what made the other make sounds that you only dreamed about, that you only thought he made in the throes of fucking, limited only to when the groans of pleasure he’d make when he found out how wet you really were for him and how well, til then, you’d hidden it from him.

How wild you willed him to be, reckless when he stopped holding himself back, the guttural, primal movements of his strong body as he slammed into you, touching every piece of naked skin within his grasp. How his tongue would devour yours and his kisses not missing a beat, working in perfect tandem with the rhythm of his hips –

“Where you at, sunshine?” he asked with a peaked dark brow, waving a palm in front of your face. Jesus Christ, how long had you been fantasising while he was standing right before you?! “Looks like it’s time for bed, kiddo.”

You huffed an embarrassed laugh. “Definitely,” you agreed, blame it on months at sea, blame it on the alcohol. Get you inside alone immediately if not sooner. Put this sexual frustration to bed once and for all. “Goodnight, Rooster. Thanks for walking me back.”

“Lieutenant,” he gave a gentle wave as you forced a smile and closed the door before you did something incredibly stupid… like drag your superior officer in and do things that would certainly dishonourably discharge you (or both of you), suspend your pay or worst, confinement for two years. You didn’t know which one scared you the most.

But you were pretty sure the feelings you had for Rooster were the worst of a bad bunch.

And you were whipping the door open again as you saw him heading back towards the street. “Rooster,” you said as he paused. “Bradley...” you repeated, a name you rarely called him, but Lieutenant Commander was certainly not how you wanted to get his attention at 2am in the middle of the street.

He looked at you and back to your house, confused. “You okay? What’s going on?” The concern in his voice was evident.

“No, no. I’m honestly fine,” you reassured him. “I just need you to know how stupid I am,” spit it out, your brain (and heart) screamed. He laughed quietly.

“What are you talking about?”

You stayed silent and you could tell he was growing uncomfortable. He was adorable and so terribly clueless. “Rooster, I was being honest before.”

He frowned and shrugged, nothing standing out to him that he was to recall. “I mean, I’d hope so. But what, exactly?”

You inhaled sharply. “Earlier tonight, I wasn’t kidding... I will be there for you anytime you need me. In any way...” you took in his face as it began to dawn on him what you were insinuating. “You need me. A friend, wingman, a confident... whatever.”

He swallowed roughly. “Oh.”

You let go of him. “It’s all so easy when we’re away from each other, but then I see you and all I can think about is how good we are together and how good we could be...”

“Jesus...” he muttered quietly, rubbing his tired face but his gaze remained hard on you, unbelieving. “How drunk are you?” he wanted to blame the alcohol now too.

“Sober enough to know this had to come out eventually. I can’t just be one of the boys anymore, not with the way you make me feel. I think about you all the time,” you took a breath and repeated, “All the time.”

He took your wrists and dragged you back to your front stoop. He trapped you against the door and caged you under his strong arms, hoping you’d go in and pretend what you were announcing wasn’t tangible. He drew in a shaky breath, but he didn’t dare touch you. You could feel the heat radiating off his golden skin and the way his tongue ran over his full lips. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I can’t keep it in anymore. Because you need to know that if you want me, I’ll be waiting.”

“How long has this been going on?” he asked quietly. “How long have you felt like this?”

“Since my first seminar. Was this stupid moustache,” you confided as he flushed and laughed incredulously to himself, this couldn’t be real. “And I know I’ve probably ruined our friendship, completely tested the boundaries of professionalism and you probably hate me – ”

“Hate you?” he repeated, grimacing. “In no world could I ever hate you, kid.”

“Really?” you asked, a hopeful flutter in your heart. “I know this isn’t what you were expecting, and believe me… I didn’t want to feel this way, I just… I just can’t seem to stop,” the sheer frustration evident in your voice and he could viscerally feel your discontentment. “It’s supposed to go away when we’re on the job. I went away for fuckin’ months, and I see you tonight,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “And in my fuckin’ brain was convinced I was over it.”

“Your heart?” he asked quietly.

“Didn’t agree,” you confided, embarrassed. Quiet. Ashamed. Tortured.

He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. Nothing you were saying made sense, not when he knew he felt exactly the same and every day did everything in his power to try and pretend his feelings for you didn’t exist. “Kid – ”

“I know I’ve ruined our friendship. I know I’m putting everything we have at stake, whether it’s personal or professional, and I’m sorry, but I’m about to burst,” you wanted to yell.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, “Calm down. I know... I know,” he said softly. He desperately wanted to give just one reassuring nudge but knew every touch could be construed as something else, and Bradley Bradshaw had never felt so torn in two before.

“You know?” you asked, a spark of hope lurching in your heart.

“There is something here, you know there is,” his voice was so low. “But what way is there around it? It’s a lose-lose situation. I’m your superior.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware of that,” your sweet, pained voice was so sombre, it was haunting him. For so long, he’d denied how he’d felt; he had to. You were his direct report, he was your teacher, and you were his dutiful student. And it wasn’t intentional that he felt how he did because he did everything in his power to push any of the nonsensical feelings away, he begged to be sent OS, anything to resist the temptation… but the temptation of what you made him feel - alive - was the hardest to shake and he missed the feeling whenever you were away.

“I don’t know what else I can say - ” he tried.

“I think of you when I touch myself, Rooster,” you grasped his shirt and you saw him swallow roughly. You went for the big guns… you were spiralling and desperate. But it certainly was no word of a lie.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he took that step closer but dared not touch you in return, his palms almost pressing their indent into your front door. He feared if took another step and felt you were against him, he would give in and risk everything. “…tell me more,” he begged. “Please. What do you see?”

“Really?” you asked softly.

“I need... I need to know,” his voice was so low, you felt it to your bones.

Your hands rose to his rest on his pecs, his muscles reacting under your touch, his head lolling closer, lips so close but like magnets, they kept a safe distance repelled. “It always comes back to me goin’ down on you. The sounds I imagine you make, hard and hot in my mouth. How you taste,” you felt the heat radiate through your body, but now you’d started you weren’t sure that you could stop… and you weren’t sure Rooster wanted you to either.

“Do you want to find out?” he said, voice gravelly, standing over you, millimetre by excruciating millimetre, he crept closer. He had never been so uncomfortable, but never so close to needing the relief you were placing right in his palms.

“Do you?” you challenged, your knuckles grazing his abs hard and tense under his shirt, coming to rest on his hips, your fingertips tracing the seams on his belt. His eyes drifted closed and tried to find his resolve. You must have been challenging him, there was no other recourse for this. Your banter together was notorious... but this was testing the limits of your friendship.

That imaginary line was non-existent now. There was no turning back.

“You’re bullshitin’ me, I know you are,” he said, and it hurt to admit, his breathing heavy and uncontrolled. Desire radiated through him and he now knew, he wouldn’t be able to go back to a place where this wasn’t happening.

“Rooster,” you took that step he couldn’t, bodies flush against the other. “That woman, Amelie, she won’t please you the way I will. Let me show you how good we can be together,” you pleaded softly.

“You're my friend...” his brain just couldn’t function; it couldn’t comprehend these words you were telling him. Words he’d wanted to hear you say since you shared that first small grin, seated proudly beside Phoenix. You’d share so many near misses together that actually getting to this made him wonder if he was dreaming. “I’m your commanding officer.” It all came down to this.

But you couldn’t hear his defences and asked, “Have you never thought of me the same way I think of you?”

His dark eyes burned deeply into yours and without a hint of a lie, he replied, “You know I have,” it was barely audible, when he added, “You know. You know I want you, kid… Everyone does.” And that was the problem for all involved.

“Then don’t worry about the next notch in the bedpost… and let me show you what you’re missing.”

He breathed, the whiskey on his tongue swirling and you were desperate to taste it.

“Say it. Say what you’re thinking.”

He raised his eyes to yours, his strong hand reaching for the door handle behind you. “One night. No rules. Tomorrow, we will never speak of this again,” he turned the knob and the door opened. He gently grasped your wrist as he led you inside and at that moment, you knew every facet of your life was irrevocably changed.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

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coconutcordiale · 2 years

Text

up to no good

pairing- bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x female pilot!reader (callsign clutch) no use of y/n

an- my first fanfic ever! and it's just filth (lol) so 18+ minors DNI. top gun has a hold on me y'all. haven't even opened a word doc since college but the entire film basically lives rent free in my head and I had to write some obscene rooster so I could get back to functioning like a normal person. anyways *nervous sweating*

warning- seriously 18+, not beta’d, swearing, pwp (dogfight football is just an excuse for foreplay they knew what they were doing with that damn scene), unprotected sex, choking, edging, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation, dom!rooster, oral (f receiving), rank kink if you squint, bruises, praise kink, dumbification, rooster is a leg man fight me, mentioning hangman during sex (yes this is a warning because jake seresin is sinful), the whole nine honestly I can't believe I'm posting this

length- 3.3k ish words

You silently curse Maverick for introducing the team to dogfight football as everyone trudges down towards the beach. Now, instead of working on your tan or napping on the beach for your one and only day off, you're being forced into athletic competition masquerading as a fun beach game. You like working out as much as the next pilot, but with one day off? You’d much rather spend it horizontal with your boyfriend than sprinting after him in the sand. Your gorgeous, half-naked boyfriend who's currently smoothing out his mustache in annoyance while he argues with Hangman about how they’ll split up the teams. You’re not sure who decided to make these two idiots team captains, but suspect it was born out of making sure they wouldn’t kill each other on the same team.

Rooster ends up choosing first, much to Hangman’s chagrin.

“Payback.”

“Wow,” you joke, your hand over your wounded heart for theatrics. “I see where your loyalties lie, babe.”

“Don’t be mad,” Rooster smiles into your hair before kissing your temple.

Pulling you into his side by the waist, he lightly skims his fingers across the part of your hipbone that always makes you shiver. The part that already has a bruise forming from his unrelenting grip this morning, while you were falling apart on his cock.

You glare up at him as if to say silently, don't change the subject, and he pointedly looks above your head to Seresin, pretending he’s not having flashbacks of your wanton moans.

“Hangman, go.”

The blonde flashes his signature smirk, stupid mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and reaches out to tug you from Rooster’s grasp, “Clutch, you’re with me.”

It’s surprising, of course. You weren’t actually mad at not being picked first, and definitely didn’t think Hangman of all people would be the one to do so.

“Bro,” Coyote grumbles. “No offense, Clutch, but what the fuck?"

Hangman shrugs in response, trying to maintain his poker face and not laugh out loud at the way Rooster’s jaw clenches. He knows having you on the opposite team is a huge distraction for mustache boy and well, he’d be remiss if he didn’t take advantage of Rooster’s ridiculous misty-eyed love for you, wouldn’t he?

Phoenix and Bob end up with Rooster too while Hangman manages to snag Coyote and Fanboy, punching Coyote in the shoulder for being so grumpy about not being picked first.

Not long into the game, Rooster has the ball, looking around for an open teammate and you see your opportunity.

As he knew there were no limits to your competitiveness no matter how much you complained about having to play, Hangman suggested you cover Rooster, so you’re already face to face with his very shirtless, very tanned body. You trail your hand across his abs, barely dipping your fingertips below his waistband. Subtle enough that no one else clocks what you’re up to, too consumed defending each other, but suggestive enough that Rooster’s attention snaps to you immediately.

“What’re you doing?” He asks, eyeing you suspiciously, hands still firmly planted around the ball that’s well out of your reach.

You flash the most innocent smile you can manage, “Sorry, babe, you just look so good. Couldn’t help myself.”

He beams down at you, completely disarmed and blushing a little despite his best efforts to maintain a healthy level of skepticism.

“Am I making it hard for my girl to concentrate?” He teases, arms faltering slightly.

“Something like that,” you grin, like the cat that got the cream, before taking advantage of his momentary lapse in judgment to snatch the ball out of his hands, swiftly turning and throwing it straight to Hangman by the makeshift endzone. He sprints through, throwing the ball to the ground in victory.

“And that,” Hangman shouts, practically banging his chest, “is why you’re never stupid enough to pick Clutch second, fellas!”

“Ruthless,” Rooster feigns hurt across his tanned features, fighting a smile at your cheesy finger guns. “Didn’t know we were playing dirty.”

“What, you think this is a fuckin’ game, Bradshaw?” You taunt.

“Oh, it’s on.”

You know you have to up the ante the next time around, without the element of surprise it’ll be harder to shake him.

You absentmindedly play with the bruise forming on your hipbone before the ball is anywhere near you and you can feel his eyes raking over the spot where your fingers touch. Fighting a smile, you adjust your workout shorts next, tugging them down the inside of your thighs where they’ve ridden up, fingers dancing a little close to your hot center for the public setting, but hey, hopefully no one’s paying attention. Besides, he’s always been a sucker for your legs, evident by how much time he spends between them. By the time he’s done staring and lifts his eyes to yours you’re smirking.

“Bradshaw, my eyes are up here.”

He doesn’t even bother looking ashamed, instead meeting your gaze with that filthy glint in his eyes. It takes everything in you to remain focused on the task at hand. You’re supposed to be sidetracking him, not the other way around.

You manage to sneak around him and catch the ball as Fanboy throws it your way, but you’re a little too far from the endzone to make a break for it without Rooster catching up to you. His dog tags are reflecting in the sunlight, resting against his hard chest and you smile, leaning in to grab them with your free hand.

Pulling him towards you by his chain so you can keep these words between the two of you, you adopt a comically casual tone, “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like if you choked me with these, babe, I mean your big hands are more than enough but—”

“Nope," Rooster cuts you off tersely as he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder before marching in the direction of the parking lot.

You giggle, arching your back to toss the ball towards the group as best you can while still mostly upside down, and throw them a sloppy two finger salute, “See y’all later.”

“You guys are the worst!” Phoenix shouts after you and everyone yells in agreement.

He doesn't set you down until you're in the parking lot, immediately pulling you back against his front.

“You’re gonna pay for teasing me like that, princess,” he breathes in your ear, right hand sliding up your chest and to your neck as his left digs for his car keys.

“Oh no,” you drawl sarcastically, “That wasn’t what I was aiming for whatsoever.”

He can’t help but chuckle, even with his hand practically engulfing your throat you’re still playing him like a fiddle, teasing and pushing his buttons until he aches to put you in your place. He knows exactly what you’ve been playing at, but he still can’t help his primal response to it.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m gonna wipe that bratty little smirk right off your pretty face.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you respond cheekily. “Was just admiring my gorgeous boyfriend all day. Always makes me smile, how beautiful he is.”

His fingers tighten almost unconsciously at his rank tumbling out of your delicate lips. And now it’s his turn to smirk, as he hears your breath hitch and feels you grind back onto his growing bulge. He unlocks the car and pulls the passenger side door open with his free hand, turning you around for a searing kiss before picking you up and setting you in his Bronco. He buckles you in, and you roll your eyes at the babying gesture, still in a fiery mood.

Shooting you a warning look for the eye rolling, Rooster gets in the other side and you begin running your hand up his arm, stopping to appreciate his bicep flexing as he turns the keys in the ignition. It’s almost innocent, really, but he sees right through you.

“No touching me or yourself until we get home.”

He bites back a laugh at your pout and settles his hand on your knee as he starts to drive. Which, you find out quickly, is much worse than not being touched at all, although you imagine that’s purposeful. He always knows how to wind you up while barely lifting a finger. You feel his hand burning on your leg, rubbing affectionate circles just south of where you want it. You shift in the passenger seat and the movement subtly urges his hand up your thigh, thinking he won’t notice as his eyes are decidedly fixed on the road.

As soon as he pulls up to a red light, he immediately removes his hand from your thigh to grab your jaw roughly and pull you into a kiss.

“You have to learn to be patient, baby. Keep trying to rush me and I won’t touch you at all,” he mutters against your lips. “Be a good girl for me.”

Your breathing shallows and you nod, both of you knowing as soon as that phrase comes out, you’re done for.

You’re crawling out of your skin by the time he pulls up to the house, mind on an endless loop of please touch me, kiss me, please do something, anything.

“I hope you remember your colors, because if I don’t hear the word red I’m not stopping,” he promises darkly, possessive hand around the back of your neck as he leads you into the house and to the bedroom.

He all but throws you on the bed, making quick work of your clothes. Stepping back and taking his time with his own while he admires you, naked and squirming for him. He watches patiently as your thighs press together, hands fisting in the comforter.

What feels like eons later, he settles on the bed, pushing your legs apart to fit his wide frame between them. Peppering kisses up the inside of your thighs, he refuses to put his mouth where you really want it.

You whimper in frustration and Rooster snickers at your exasperation before licking a stripe up your dripping wet slit. The sound that comes out of your mouth is positively filthy, doubling in volume when he slips one of those thick fingers in without warning.

“Fuck, baby,” It’s his turn to groan now. “You’re so wet. Surprised you didn’t soak through those tiny little things you call shorts.”

“Thought I was going to, been ready for you all day,” you grit out.

As much as you love his mouth on you, it’s not what you need right now as your cunt is aching to be filled. You untangle your fingers from the comforter to pull him up by the shoulders and attach your lips to his. Reaching down to palm his hard cock, you run your thumb across the slit that’s leaking with precum. He drops his head to your shoulder, panting as his control wavers.

“Need you in me,” you beg between kisses. “Please.”

You immediately wish you hadn’t said anything when raises his head to look at you, pupils blown but with newfound resolve and a smug grin on his lips.

“Greedy,” he teases, taking your hands from his cock and lifting your arms above your head.

He easily pins both wrists down with one hand, while the other traces down your body, taking his time palming your tits one by one, touching your hipbones with surprising gentleness, before settling between your legs once more. His fingers slide through your wet folds, pad of his thumb circling your clit and your head falls back against the pillows, body arching at the feeling.

He’s building you up, exactly how he knows you like, your inner walls already beginning to shake with anticipation, clenching around nothing as you get closer to the edge.

And then suddenly, he pulls his fingers away and you want to cry with how quickly you feel your climax disappearing into thin air.

“You’d let me do anything I wanted to you right now, wouldn’t you baby girl? You’d do anything to get my cock in that needy pussy.”

“Yes sir,” you whine submissively, even surprising yourself at how desperate you sound.

“No more Bradshaw and babe now, huh,” he mocks your cheeky tone from earlier. “Told you I’d fuck that bratty attitude right out of you.”

You wish you had the wherewithal to come up with a witty response about how he hasn’t even fucked you yet and could he get to it already, you really do. But before you can formulate half a thought, he’s finally pushing his thick member into you and no matter how many times the two of you do this you always, always forget how much he stretches you. How each time you wonder if he’s going to fit.

The only indication he gives that he’s as affected by this as you are is that there’s no time to adjust to his size before he’s thrusting, hard and fast and rough. It’s right on the line between pleasure and pain.

The moment he swipes the pad of his thumb over your bundle of nerves again you’re close, embarrassingly close. You feel your body tensing, winding tighter and tighter.

“Please, I’m so close, please let me come.”

You’re pushing hard against the grip he has on your wrists, to no avail.

He smiles against your skin, nipping at your neck before bringing his mouth to your ear.

“No.”

Tears immediately spring to your eyes as he pulls away the hand that was on your clit, slowing his pace to an unbearable speed and you feel your peak slipping farther and farther away.

“Please, Roos—" you start, trying to pull him closer with your legs.

“You know my name, princess,” he growls, pulling back.

“Bradley,” you moan, the hard edges in his words sending another wave of heat through you. “Sir—plea—I need—harder, faster. Ohmy god, please.”

You’re barely coherent and the evil part of him wants to push further, to see how long he can keep you like this, if he can make you lose your words completely.

He completely ignores your pleas, releasing your wrists so he can run both his hands down your body, stopping again to rub circles around the bruises on your hipbones.

“You think they’d believe me? If I told everyone how needy you are for me?”

You don’t answer, can’t answer because all you can think is please, harder, more. Instead, you’re gripping his biceps for dear life, mind still reeling from how infuriatingly slow he’s fucking into you.

“The team would never expect strong, hard-headed Clutch could act like this. Putty in my hands, whining and begging for me like a depraved slut.”

A loud moan leaves your mouth at that and he rewards you by picking up the pace, putting his weight behind his thrusts again. You’re staring up at him with glazed eyes, mouth parted and breathy mewls coming out in a constant stream as he continues.

“Seresin definitely wouldn’t. Can you imagine if I told him how pretty you look fucked out and dumb for my cock? He’d probably think I was lying, thinks you dominate the hell outta me. If only he knew the truth.”

You clench around him involuntarily and he smirks when he sees the blush rising on your cheeks.

“God, I do love having you all to myself, but it seems selfish not to share someone as perfect as you, darlin’.”

You tuck your face in his neck, unable to meet those playful dark eyes. He pulls out and flips you over, pulling your ass into the air and sliding back into you in one smooth motion.

He’s hitting that spot deep inside you, and you shove your face into the pillows to muffle your moans. You feel fingers tangle in your hair, tugging and arching your back as he pulls you up towards his chest, pace unrelenting. Bradley slides that big hand up around to your neck again, finally getting to pound you from behind like he wanted to outside of his Bronco. That seems like days ago, now. His other hand is circling your clit, quickly bringing you right to the brink once more.

“Come for me, baby, come all over my cock like the little slut you are.”

You feel like a rubber band, pushed to its limits and snapped. White-hot pleasure courses through you, finally releasing all the tension in your body.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me,” Bradley’s breath is hot in your ear. You barely register his praise, still shaking. “Wanna come inside your tight pussy and fill you up.”

You can’t help the obscene noises spilling out of your mouth, even louder than before as he continues to fuck you, relentless, while you try to come down from your high. It’s overwhelming, his thick length pounding your trembling, slick walls. His grip impossibly tight on your hip as he empties in you. The warmth is spreading inside, your walls spasming weakly at the feeling of fullness. He keeps his hands on you as he softens, fingers starting their dance in maddening circles on your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“S’too much,” you slur, head falling back on his shoulder.

If you weren’t in such a daze you might be impressed on how he’s managed to make it his mission to continue ruining you only moments after his own climax. He’s completely supporting your weight, any sense of self-preservation having left you long ago.

He shifts, pulling out and you try not to whine too loudly at the empty feeling. You momentarily think he’s done with his torture, but then he lays you down on your back and puts his lips right to your center, fingers pushing his cum back inside you as it tries to drip out.

“No,” he lifts his head to say again, and you hate how that always sends a wave of heat right to your core. “You begged and begged to come. I’m just giving you what you wanted baby."

“Dunno,” you shudder, “if I can take anym—Bradley pleas—”

“You can.”

There’s no room for disagreement in his tone.

“You’ve been such a good girl. I know you can come again. Just one more and I’ll give you a break.”

He’s making lazy circles with his tongue, his pace the only indication there exists a fiber of mercy in his being.

Your skin feels tight as his praise washes over you. He’s fucking you with his fingers now, curling them while slowly increasing his onslaught on every nerve in your body through his touch to your core. You can’t help but grab his wrist, trying to pull him away from you as he blurs the line between pleasure and pain. You’re shaking uncontrollably and shouting his name, as you come again, sure you’re going to black out.

“Shh, baby, I got you,” he whispers as you clench around his fingers. He’s kissing your jaw, lips, forehead.

He gently pulls his hand away and wraps his arms around you, holding you through the aftershocks.

“You’re perfect, baby. Did so well for me.”

You smile up at him a few minutes later as he gently puts a water bottle to your lips. Ever the gentleman, you think, even after he’s absolutely wrecked you.

“We have to wash the sheets and comforter,” Rooster complains jokingly, when he’s pretty sure your mind is mostly functioning again. “There’s sand everywhere.”

“Yeah, you should get right on that, Lieutenant,” you mumble, planting your face in his chest.

He reaches out to tickle your sides lightly, “Maybe this Lieutenant will order you to do it for him.”

“It’s so cute you think you’re in charge,” you yawn, rolling over and settling in, clearly not making a move to get up.

Rooster rolls his eyes, forcing himself not to take the bait this time, instead pulling you tighter.

#rooster top gun #rooster smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #Bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #Bradley Bradshaw x you #rooster fic #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #rooster imagine #top gun #rooster fanfic #Bradley bradshaw fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic

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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 month

Text

Hotter Than Texas | Part II

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

A/N: I'm so excited that y'all loved the first part! Thanks for your enthusiasm, you rock <3

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Aka it's a road trip, strap in.

CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)

WC: 2000+

Part I | Masterlist

“I’m getting hungry.”

Bradley glances at the restaurant sign as he passes it on the interstate, suppressing a sigh. He usually skips lunch on long trips so he can arrive at his destination before nightfall. “I’ll get off at the next exit,” he says.

“Will you?” you exclaim excitedly, as though he’s offered to catch and cook your next meal himself.

Bradley chuckles mildly. “Well, I’m not going to let you starve.”

“You’re so sweet,” you reply, and Bradley eyes you with a grin because he’s about eighty percent certain you’re being facetious.

“What’re are you in the mood for?” he asks as he gets on the off-ramp.

“Something greasy and very bad for my heart.”

Bradley lets out a small laugh. What’s bad for his heart is you sitting next to him being all cute for the next twenty hours straight.

He pulls into the lot of a little diner just off the highway and parks his car while you flip down your sun visor to glance at your reflection in the mirror. “How do I look?” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Bradley tries not to examine you directly and instead just glances in your vicinity. “Better than the truckers, I bet,” he comments, noticing the row of semis at the back of the lot.

You give him an unimpressed look and then push open your door. “I sure hope they have French toast.”

“I thought you wanted something greasy,” Bradley says, walking around the front of the Bronco to join you.

“I want options,” you state, marching forth toward the front doors.

Bradley strides ahead and pulls the door open for you. He can’t say he isn’t looking forward to having a sit-down meal with you, like it’s a date or something. And, as much as he hates to admit it, he’s almost thrilled at the prospect of the other patrons assuming the two of you are a couple.

You walk through the open door and Bradley stalls for a moment, trying to clear his head. He shouldn’t even be thinking about that sort of nonsense. He and Hangman have enough issues without adding Bradley’s crush on his baby sister to the mix. They’ve just begun to mend their bumpy – to say the least – relationship, and Jake would sure as shit not appreciate his colleague developing feelings for his younger sibling.

“You comin’, sugar?” you call from inside.

Bradley, who’s clearly taken too long of a beat, glances at you in a bit of a daze. He’s sure you just called him ‘sugar’ and that has utterly thrown him. He enters after you and gives the hostess a look that he hopes might resemble a polite smile. But his face feels hot and numb at the same time, so he can’t be sure.

…

“I think I’ll get the pancakes,” you muse, flipping through the menu leisurely.

Bradley smiles at you when you’re not looking. “Want to share some things?”

You glance up at him happily. “Can we?”

Bradley chuckles. “Why not? I could go for a pancake. What else should we get?”

Your eyes light up and you instantly refer back to the menu. “Fried pickles.”

Bradley cringes but he’s still amused. “Those’ll go great with the pancakes.”

“I agree,” you respond without a hint of sarcasm. “Chili?” you continue. “Or tacos?”

“Why not both?” Bradley shrugs.

You give him a serious look. “That’s just crazy talk.”

Bradley laughs. “You’re right, what was I thinking?”

“I sort of want some pie, though.”

Bradley closes his menu and leans forward into the table. “I’ve already thought of that,” he mutters under his breath, as though he’s about to divulge a secret. You lean in too, your bright eyes blinking up at him eagerly. “We’ll get one for the road,” he whispers.

You gasp. “You’re a genius!”

Bradley chuckles, leaning back in his seat proudly. “I won’t deny that.”

…

When the server arrives to take your orders, you let Bradley do the talking, but chime in with little requests now and again; onions on the home fries, maple syrup for the bacon, sour cream in the chili. And Bradley can’t help but delight in the fact that, every time you think of something, you tap his hand that's resting on the table, ‘oohing’ with excitement.

Bradley eyes you with a smile once the server departs. “Maple syrup for the bacon?”

You wave a hand at him. “You’ll see.”

Bradley shakes his head with a smirk. “Not on my bacon.”

“Yeah, my brother warned me that you’re a bit of a square.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows and scoffs. “Your brother said what?”

You grin at him mischievously. “Don’t worry, I can make up my own mind.”

“Your brother warned me that you’re a bully,” Bradley replies, his smile only getting wider. “And, coming from Hangman, that’s saying something.”

You let out a peal of laughter so exuberant that several faces turn to look in your direction.

“Don’t worry,” he adds when your laughter partially subsides. “I can make up my own mind.”

“And?” you ask with soaring eyebrows. “Have you?”

Bradley hesitates for a moment and then decides to respond in a cheeky manner to avoid any awkwardness. “Not just yet,” he says with a chuckle.

You reach out and lightly smack his forearm. “Stop!”

“I’m joking,” Bradley concedes, grabbing your hand before you can strike him again. “It’s not like you’ve ever hit me to get your way,” he says pointedly.

You shake your head with a smirk and withdraw your hand.

…

“Everything was delicious,” you gush to the waitress as she clears the table. “We had such a wonderful time!”

“Glad to hear that, dear,” the waitress gives you a smile and then winks at Bradley, as though she’s in on some scheme with him.

Bradley furrows his eyebrows in amusement as she walks away and then digs into his pocket for his wallet. “My treat,” he says when you reach for your purse.

“No way!” you exclaim. “You’re already giving me a ride. The least I could do is feed you.”

“You don’t have to do anything. I’m happy to be your ride.”

“I insist,” you declare.

“I insist harder,” Bradley presses, laying down several bills onto the receipt tray.

You gaze at him pensively and finally slide your wallet back into your purse. “So, you’re stubborn,” you note.

“So, you’re observant,” he remarks.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Thanks for lunch, Rooster.”

…

Back on the road, you offer Bradley a turn with the radio, muttering something about not wanting to be a bully by hogging the music. He can tell you’ve said it in jest, but he still wants to make sure he hasn’t offended you.

“You know I don’t think you’re a bully, right?” he says, glancing between your face and the road several times.

You eye him playfully. “Well, give it a minute.”

Bradley chuckles. “It’s getting dark,” he notes after a little while. He was hoping to get farther on the first day, but the prospect of maybe spending an extra day with you on the road doesn’t seem nearly as daunting as it might have in the morning. “Want to stop for the night?”

“I can drive if you want,” you offer.

Naturally, Bradley overthinks your response. He wonders if maybe you’ve had enough of him and would prefer to get to Texas as soon as possible. “No, no,” he responds. “I can drive. I just thought you might be tired.”

“From sitting?” you quip.

Bradley gives you a flat look. “It’s been a long day.”

You shrug. “It flew by.”

That sets his mind at ease somewhat. A day doesn’t fly by unless you’re having a good time. “I think we should stop,” he says.

“Alright,” you respond, “let’s stop.”

…

“You two lovebirds want the mountain or city view?” the hotel’s front desk clerk enquires with a beam.

Bradley is about to explain that the two of you will, in fact, require separate rooms because you are the absolute opposite of lovebirds, when you respond with, “Mountain, please.”

The clerk hands you a key and Bradley follows you down the hall mutely, with both of your suitcases in tow. He’s not about to dispute your decision to share a room, despite knowing that it’s exactly what he swore he’d avoid doing the moment he laid eyes on you.

You open the door and enter, holding it open for Bradley so that he can bring in the luggage. He sets it down gingerly by the door and straightens his back to look around. The are two double beds against the wall and a large window with a spectacular view of the Santa Catalina range.

You flop down on one of the beds with a contented sigh. “You know what, darlin’? I am tired.”

Bradley watches you climb further up the bed and rest your head on one of the pillows. He’s used to you calling him all sorts of terms of endearment at this point, but it still warms his heart each and every time you do. “No dinner tonight, sweetheart?” he responds, adopting your speaking style on a trial basis.

You lift your head from the pillow. “Let’s just order in?”

You seem unfazed by the fact that Bradley just called you sweetheart. Meanwhile, he’s nearly thrown up from the anxiety it’s caused him. He resolves not to call you that – or any other overly-friendly name – ever again. “Yeah, we can do that,” he responds casually. “Pizza?”

You nod. “With barbeque chicken.”

“You got it.”

…

“Did you always want to be an aviator?” you ask, taking a bit of pizza while dusting crumbs off the bedspread.

The two of you are sitting cross-legged atop one of the beds with the open pizza box between you. Bradley grabs another slice. “Pretty much.” He doesn’t really want to get into specifics, because that means being vulnerable, a state which Bradley does not much enjoy.

“Interesting.”

“What about you?” he asks. “What are you studying?”

“Math.”

Bradley nearly chokes. For some reason, he expected something less cerebral. “Are you going to be an accountant, or something?” he asks with a smirk.

You frown slightly. “I sure hope not.”

“Well, what do you want to be?”

“A good person,” you respond thoughtfully.

Bradley lowers his pizza and stares at you. “You are a good person,” he says hoarsely.

You shrug. “I have my days.”

“I mean, I don’t know you very well,” Bradley reasons. “But you seem great. Much better than your brother.”

You laugh and lower your gaze. “Aren’t you a sweetheart?” you say warmly.

Bradley can feel his heart pounding like a double bass drum. The only sweetheart in this room is you and he can hardly keep that to himself. To think that you might be doubting your own integrity is affecting Bradley on a near-physical level. “You’re a good person. Anybody who tells you otherwise is an idiot,” he states.

You smile, still looking downward. “Thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

You place your half-eaten slice of pizza back into the box and fall back into the pillows, sighing dramatically. “I’m stuffed!”

Bradley, who’s just taken his final bite, mutters around the crust in his mouth. “Me too.” He closes the pizza box and picks it up to set it onto the floor by the bed. Then, he moves to the other bed and lies down on his back with a weary exhale.

“Hey, Rooster,” you call from your bed.

“Hmm?”

“Are you a good pilot?”

Bradley turns onto his side to face you. “I think so.”

“My brother said you were just alright,” you say.

Bradley snorts and throws a pillow at you. You laugh and then stuff the pillow in between your knees. “Joke’s on you, I’m keeping this.”

Bradley adjusts his second pillow under his head and mutters, “You’re welcome.”

“Tomorrow you can choose what you want to listen to,” you say.

Bradley chuckles. What he wants to listen to more than anything is probably you.

“Hey, Rooster,” you say quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Is there any pie left?”

Tag List

I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments shortly!

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waklman · 11 months

Text

In The Stands

summary: bradley makes sure you know that you're his biggest fangirl.

pairing: bradley bradshaw x female reader.

warnings: no use of y/n. fluff, mentions of sex. bradley is a biter idc!! 18+ blog in general.

olympic swimmer au

take your marks masterlist.

While you would love to say that you were Bradley’s biggest fan, you were well aware that it was a title you had to earn rather than be automatically granted as his girlfriend.

Though you had to admit, it was definitely a struggle to stay afloat in the rocky waters comprised of Bradley's fangirls. After all, they were always a bit extreme when it came to exhausting their free time towards deep-diving into your boyfriend’s life.

The unwavering adoration they had for their favorite swimmer propelled them to know even the most obscure details about him—from which energy drinks he chugged before a medley to which brand of underwear he wore.

Anyone would have fallen to your knees like you did after finding out other girls knew of your boyfriend’s love for Calvin Klein.

So what better way to take your righteous title as his number one fan from under their noses, than to corner the athlete after practice—demand said athlete to surrender unfounded information about himself—and transcribe every single word that leaves his mouth right into your notes app.

Rest assured, Bradley was more than pleased to have you perched on his muscled thigh while he was drying off on the rest bench. Enough so, that he started to run a line of kisses from your shoulder up to the familiar spot behind your ear as he diligently attends to your flurry of questions.

“If you could switch bodies with anyone for a day, who would it be? And what would be the first thing you do?” You make sure to specify, thumbs eagerly hovering over your phone’s keyboard.

“Easy, Seresin. And I’d hop out the nearest window,” he quietly hums, trailing his nose along your shoulder blade before capturing a piece of your flesh between his teeth, out of boredom.

Too engrossed with the task at hand, his actions all go unnoticed by you. Luckily for Bradley, the rest of his team coming up for air at the starting blocks are also oblivious to it.

“…Seresin,” you absentmindedly mutter to yourself, eyes searching for ‘S’ on your keyboard. Hearing that, Bradley’s mouth latches onto an untouched spot near your pulse.

Instead of acknowledging the intentional nip, you hastily pound the backspace button to correct your misspell of ‘nearest window’ with a huff.

About twenty minutes into your interrogation, the frustration stitching your brows together gradually lets up with Bradley’s cooperation. And between each question, the swimmer leans back, face glowing with a grin as he surveys the marks scattered across the right side of your neck.

Readjusting yourself in his lap, you let out a relieved breath. “Okay, last one. What’s your favorite thing to do when you’re bored?”

Bradley smiles against the curve of your neck, sheepish response weighing down his tongue. “M’ not sure if you wanna know my answer to that sweetheart.”

Stuck in interviewer mode, the insinuation goes flying right over your head and you twist your neck to shoot him an offended look.

“Yes I do! Did you know your fans on twitter have baby pictures of you that I haven’t even seen before?! I’m like, the worst fan ever!” You complain, accidentally veering off on a tangent.

At the mention of your rank in his fanbase, Bradley sighs, playful expression fading from his face. “Bubbles, is that what this is all about?”

Instead of answering him, you quietly remain seated on his leg like some empty ventriloquist doll, wooden legs stiffly hung over his knee and hinged mouth clamped shut because that’s exactly what this is all about.

Taking the nervous dart of your eyes into account, Bradley pries your fingers off your overheated phone, dropping it inside the mesh swim bag by his feet.

Sometimes, Bradley forgets that you’re unaware of his disinterest for things like that—the special attention from journalists, the throng of girls gathered outside venues to see him, and the endless clamoring for his signature. Because a part of him assumed that you already knew that.

It was in moments where his head broke the surface of the water, that Bradley knew he never needed fulfillment from other people—not when he instinctively searched for your proud face in the stands, rather than checking his own team’s placement on the scoreboard.

Turning you in his lap to face him, Bradley leans in to kiss your nose, making it scrunch under contact. “I don’t know why you think you got competition. I’m pretty sure you’re the only girl I take up to my room after a win,” he lightly teases, poking your shoulder.

Slowly, a shy smile makes its way to your face. “I’d hope that I’m the only one. If not, we're gonna have some problems,” you playfully warn, kicking his ankle.

“Uh oh. We might have some problems on our hands,” Bradley shrugs, struggling to contain his laugh in his throat.

“Hey! That’s—that’s not funny,” you break out into a fit of giggles, prompting him to join you with a slap to his bare chest.

With you bending forward to simmer your laughter, Bradley takes the chance to extend his arm back into his bag, plucking your phone from the mess of swim caps and snacks.

All you do is confusingly look on as he types in your passcode, large thumb swerving to open the camera app.

“What are you—”

The words instantly die on your tongue when he flips your phone, and you notice the litter of bite marks on your neckline.

“You did not!” You shriek, hand flying to touch your bruised skin in disbelief.

“Oh but I did Bubbles, for my biggest fan,” he settles with a shameless grin, clicking the side of the device to snap a picture.

note: i will say although i sprinkle random swimming analogies in all the fics for this au i had the most fun doing it here hehe. as always, thank you for reading, and reblog are greatly appreciated!

join the taglist for this series here or follow me on @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!

tags: @Genius2050@eli2447 @katieshook02 @mak-32 @domeafavour505 @s-u-t @averyhotchner @et-homephone @sgt-barnesveins @olymosity @wkndwlff @diorrfairy @cruelmissdior @eternallyvenus @laneylovesglen @queerqueenlynn @taytaylala12 @sushiwriterhere @ravenhood2792 @Natdrunk @theweekndhistorybook @goosterroose @Moon42flight

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say-al0e · 5 months

Text

Second Chance

Rating: PG

Summary: Bradley was always the one who got away. Things hadn't worked years ago but sometimes in life, you're lucky enough to get a second chance. Warnings: None, just some fluff Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!Reader Word Count: 2k Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

Though nearly six years had passed since your last first date with Bradley, it felt as if no time at all had elapsed as you sat across from him. Memories of what had been filled your chest with a simmering warmth as you watched him animatedly recount yet another tale from his time at Top Gun.

That last first date, one that also spanned the course of an entire evening, launched a two-year relationship that made itself permanently at home in your heart. It found your first love, the first true romance you’d had the fortune of experiencing, and you felt a sort of deja vu as he easily rolled his eyes at another of Hangman’s antics.

This Bradley - years older, years wiser - was simultaneously comfortably familiar and so incredibly different. He still carried himself with an ease you found reassuring, armed with a mischievous smile and infectious laughter, but there were more layers now. Behind those warm brown eyes lingered a deeper understanding of the world, an understanding of life that hadn’t been present in your twenties, and you did nothing to hide the soft smile that lifted the corners of your mouth as he leaned back in his chair and shook his head.

“So, did Phoenix ever realize it was actually Bob hiding her shoes or does she still think it was Hangman?”

Empty coffee cups lingered on the table, long since cleared of your dinner plates, as the restaurant slowly closed around you. Hours had passed, spent lost in conversation - catching up on missed time, listening to the low rumble of his voice as he shared adventures - and you knew that you’d have to leave soon.

The bubble would burst eventually, pulling you both back to reality where you would have to decide whether to continue chasing the past. Still, rather than relaying that thought to Bradley, you leaned forward with a grin as you waited for his answer.

“I think she realized a few weeks ago,” he admitted, laughing as he idly wrapped a hand around an empty cup. “Wouldn’t surprise me if she’s waiting to get him back, though. Phoenix doesn’t get involved in the pranks very often but when she does, they’re brutal.”

Bradley spoke fondly of his new squadron, thrilled for the camaraderie despite his earlier struggles, and even recounted tales of having rekindled a relationship with Maverick. He looked at ease, far happier with his place in life than he had been years prior, and you were glad to see the contentment as you shook your head.

“You know,” you began, grinning as you thought about the last set of Top Gun pranks he’d been involved in, “it’s kind of comforting to know that no matter how much things change, some things stay the same.”

Both of you had grown since you last saw one another. Gone were your twenties, replaced by true adulthood - settled careers, lifelong relationships, responsibilities that sometimes seemed overwhelming - and it was evident in the conversation you’d had.

There was no longer talk of parties and bars, instead you’d spoken about family - his godfather, his squad, your parents - and friends that had long since gotten married and started families of their own. There was talk of work, of the inability to recover the way you used to and make time for things like a few drinks on a weeknight. There’d been a whole tangent about diets and playful complaints about the fact that spicy food tasted better than ever but grew harder to stomach the older you got.

But knowing that there were still those moments of levity, that the Bradley you’d met at the Hard Deck and fell in love with over too many drinks still existed, calmed any remaining nerves lingering in the pit of your stomach. It seemed that as different as things were, there was still a glimpse of the Bradley you fell in love with all those years ago and it made you hopeful that things might be different this time.

Bradley opened his mouth to respond, witty retort on the tip of his tongue, but before he could speak, a soft voice popped the bubble you’d spent most of the night in.

“Sorry,” she began, politely apologetic. “Just wanted to check in. We’re closing the kitchen, so, if there’s anything else you’d like, now is the time. And, if not, I’ve got the check.”

A quick glance at your phone had the pair of you blinking, both surprised at the time. When you spared a glance around the now empty restaurant, you grimaced apologetically. “Sorry,” Bradley laughed, “didn’t realize how late it was. We’re good.”

“Yeah, we’ll get out of here so you guys can close. Sorry,” you repeated, following suit as Bradley stood from his seat and took the bill.

In a matter of moments, you were standing outside the restaurant, glancing back as the staff turned the sign and began closing up.

It was the briefest of gestures, a flash of movement, but it reminded you so distinctly of the past. There were nights where you’d close down restaurants, sit on barstools until well beyond last call, just to spend a few extra hours together before Bradley had to leave. You saw a flash of yourself, a bit younger and so wholly in love, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you began wandering down the sidewalk.

“I guess some things don’t change.” Bradley grinned, eyes bright and glittering in the city lights as he drifted closer to you. His hand bumped yours, body bleeding warmth as he tipped his head to glance at you.

“Can’t believe we spent all night sitting there. Felt like no time at all.” The observation was quiet, whispered into the wind as you wandered slowly down the sidewalk, and Bradley hummed in agreement.

“It was always like that with us,” he reminded you - as if you’d somehow forgotten just how easy things were for most of your relationship. “Even at the end, we could talk forever and not get tired of one another.”

Bradley was right. Though your relationship ended, it wasn’t because of incompatibility or a lack of love. The pair of you had always gotten along well, easy and light even toward the end, and you were reminded of just how well you and Bradley worked at every turn.

“I think the lack of a mustache helped back then.” Bradley rolled his eyes fondly, laughing as his hand brushed yours once more, while you ducked your head. “You’ve always been easy to talk to. You’re kinda captivating, Roo.”

It was easy to remember just how quickly Bradley had captured your attention and just how wholly he’d managed to do so. His voice, warm and honeyed; his way with words, always so thoughtful and intriguing; his general demeanor, easy and steadfast - everything about him made you want to lose yourself in him and you continued to be reminded of why you’d loved him so fiercely for so long.

“You’re one to talk, honey.”

There was little you could say in response, little your brain seemed to process beyond the question of why you’d allowed yourself to separate from Bradley for so long, so you opted for the next best thing. After a moment’s hesitation, you turned your hand and took his in your own, lacing your fingers together in a way that seemed achingly familiar.

From the corner of your eye, you saw his smile grow wider - bright, happy, even in the dim glow of streetlights - and smiled as you drew closer to the Bronco. The night was coming to an end, but as sad as that made you, you could see more nights like it in your future as you witnessed the brilliance of that smile.

Conversation tapered off into a comfortable silence, then. It was as it had always been, neither of you compelled to speak just for the sake of conversation, and it was yet another reminder of what you’d missed. With Bradley, there was always a level of ease no one else had ever been able to achieve and it was comforting to revel in the quiet, even as you climbed into the car and an old rock song began to play.

As Bradley tapped his fingers along to the song on the radio, you took the opportunity to study him. He sat, bathed in the warm glow of streetlights, side profile exactly as you remembered. There were a few minute changes - the mustache, most notably; he’d learned to style his hair, and he’d lost some of the chub of his cheeks - but you were reminded of why you’d always fawned over him.

There was something magnetic about him, something bright and beautiful that drew you in and kept you tethered in his orbit. He’d always been beautiful, both physically and mentally, and you were grateful for the chance to reconnect. It’d been too long, too many years apart, and there was little explanation other than fate for your reconciliation.

However, all too soon, you found yourselves parked in the lot of your building and heading up the sidewalk to your door.

“This was nice,” you conceded, breaking the silence that had lingered on as you stopped at the top of the steps. “I missed this.” With only a split second of consideration, brain working on overdrive to rid itself of any doubt, you admitted, “I missed you.”

Bradley, whose smile was as soft as you remembered and whose gentle gaze made your chest ache pleasantly, nodded. “I missed you, too.” The agreement was easy, ready, as he took a tentative step closer. “I’m glad you said yes to tonight. I was kind of afraid you wouldn’t.”

“I never considered saying anything other than yes.” There’d been no real thought, no other answer you could’ve given him. Though your relationship ended way back when, it was of no fault of his. The pair of you were simply in different places in life, both wanting something you couldn’t give at the time, and he’d always been the one that got away. Getting a second chance was more than you could’ve asked for. “I’m really glad we bumped into each other.”

It was a moment of serendipity, a coincidence you hadn’t imagined would happen, and you knew Bradley was just as happy for the chance as he nodded his agreement.

Another step closer, another soft smile, as Bradley seemed to weigh his words. “I didn’t know if we’d see each other again,” he admitted, voice quiet as he closed the distance between you. “I always wanted to, always thought about reaching out, but I… I’m just glad the decision was made for us.”

That fear you both shared - the fear that there would never be a right time, that a reconciliation would only end in heartache - went unspoken but you knew it was shared. And as Bradley lifted his hand, soft and warm as it pressed to your cheek, you melted into his touch.

“I want to do this right this time,” he declared, voice soft and washing over you as your eyes fluttered. “I don’t want to rush and fuck it all up again.”

“No one fucked it up last time,” you reminded him, tone matching his as you gripped his bicep softly. “It was just the wrong time. Things are different now, though.”

“Second time’s the charm.” His easy agreement was all you needed to close the small space between you once more, returning your lips to his in another soft kiss.

The second chance was what you both needed, another shot at a love you’d missed so dearly, and you were glad to have gotten it. No matter what happened, you were hopeful that this time, the second time would be the charm.

_______________________________________________________

Author's Note: Dunno, man. Just feeling soft. Working on some Hangman smut now, though, cause that damn photoshoot.

Taglist: @lulu-noodles, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @withakindheartx, @ssprayberrythings, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath, @alexparkxr, @hangmandruigandmav, @alexxavicry, @calicokel, @jaymum, @dracosluvbot, @little-wiseone, @specialk6802, @mandylove1000, @julesclues, @archetypesoflife, @oliviah-25, @benhardysdrumstick, @caatheeriinee07, @yvespoems, @chloereidwayne, @flower-name, @callsignharper, @peoniarose, @hangmanscoming, @rh3tt, @dakotakazansky, @silversprings-mp3

#rooster imagine #rooster x reader #top gun one shot #top gun maverick imagine #top gun x reader #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster fic #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff #v's fics

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libraryofantiquitea · 1 year

Text

𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰, 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧.

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary: bradley loves your ass. that's it. that's the summary.

warnings: explicit, minors do not interact! vaginal fingering, rimming (female receiving), frottage.

word count: 2.3k

author's notes: from now, and until the end of time, thanks to the creator coven! love how we all mutually agreed that rooster was an ass man.

likes / comments / reblogs are very much appreciated! thank you for reading! ♥

From the moment you met Rooster, you knew that he was an “ass man.”

You met at the beach - he was out with his friends, and you were there with yours. You had been content to read your book and chat, gossip, enjoy the sun and each other’s company, and he had been tossing a football around with his friends. Said football landed on your towel, you and your two friends letting out startled shrieks. It was Bradley who approached, all smiles and all apologies, and you were instantly fucked.

The two friend groups ended up spending the rest of the day together, with Bradley’s friend Jake convincing the three of you to join in some football with them. None of you were particularly sporty, but it was more or less an excuse for the boys to get close to the three of you (although their friend Natasha had her eye on your best friend, and you knew for a fact that if Natasha had asked, she could have her).

Bradley was particularly keen on grabbing at you, and picking you up whenever you had the ball. He also playfully smacked your behind a few times, but he seemed to do that with everyone. Though at one point he threw you over his shoulder and gave your ass a playful smack. You would have stopped him if you hadn’t liked it so much.

The day had bled into the night, and he took you home at the end of it. He threw you over his shoulder again as he carried you into his house, and then tossed you onto his bed.

It had been a couple of months since that day and you’d barely left.

—

It was a lazy Sunday morning, the kind that the two of you were rarely afforded. You’d slept in, convincing Bradley to forgo his usual morning jog, made waffles and coffee, and sprawled out on the couch together doing a crossword. It had been absolutely perfect.

Morning was beginning to blend into the afternoon, and you were quite content to do absolutely nothing with the rest of your day. Bradley had done a bit of lawn work and was throwing himself through a shower, while you laid in bed, reading a book.

“How was your shower, babe?” you asked idly, focusing on your book when you heard Bradley enter the bedroom.

You’d shifted positions in bed about five times before ultimately settling onto your stomach, which would likely only be comfortable for another few minutes. When Bradley didn’t answer, you looked over your shoulder, finding him standing at the foot of the bed, smiling at you.

“Babe?” you asked, laughing a little at him. “What’s up?”

“That ass,” he replied, grinning at you. “I walk in and you’re just flaunting that thing.”

You laughed again, turning back around onto the bed, eyes scanning the pages of your book. “Babe, I can assure you that I don’t flaunt it. It’s just fucking there.”

Bradley had walked over to the side of the bed that you were laying on, the dresser containing his clothes on that side of the room. He looked over at you, grinning coyly, before turning his attention fully back to you. Bradley set a knee down on the bed beside you, you made a startled noise, and suddenly Bradley was straddling the backs of your legs.

“How’s the book?” he asked, leaning over you and whispering into your hair.

“Mmm, it’s good. Not great though.”

“Fantastic,” Bradley added, reaching for your book and tossing it across the room.

“Bradley!” you shrieked, moving to roll over so that you could face him, only to have one of his strong hands on your shoulder and pushing you back down onto the bed.

“You said it wasn’t great!”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted you to throw it across the bedroom!”

Bradley covered your body with his, still damp from the shower, and you let out a playful squawk, trying to get away from him but truly you had no intentions of being anywhere other than under his weight. And given how intent Bradley seemed on keeping you in one place, attempting to get away from him was a fool’s errand.

“I don’t buy for a moment that you’re actually trying to get away,” Bradley murmured, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. You giggled a little as the hairs of his moustache brushed against your skin; it always both delighted and tickled you in every possible way. “Besides, this is all your fault.”

You playfully scoffed, feeling Bradley move back onto his knees. “How on earth is this my fault, Bradshaw?” you asked incredulously, trying to look over your shoulder. Bradley replied with a playful smack to your ass. “Oh, I see.”

“These shorts that you’re wearing leave absolutely nothing to the imagination,” Bradley said, hooking strong fingers into the waistband and beginning to tug them over your bottom. You smiled and bit at your lip, wriggling just a little so that Bradley could help you out of your shorts. “They’re far too short and far too tight,” he added, though there seemed to be a headiness to his voice. “You’re just better off without them.”

“I’m better off without them, or you’re better off without them?” you teased, gasping a little as your skin was exposed to the cooler air. You were wearing some rather revealing underwear beneath your shorts as well, more of your cheeks spilling out than they would in a common brief.

“Fuck,” Bradley rumbled, and you got the feeling that the playfulness that had encompassed the previous few minutes was giving way to something else.

He grabbed the globes of your ass firmly in his hands, kneading them with his fingers, pushing the flesh up and digging his blunt fingernails into them. You sighed, eyelids slipping closed, already forgetting what book you had even been reading before he’d sauntered into the bedroom.

“You’ve got such a pretty little ass,” Bradley murmured, delivering another little smack to one of your bottom. “Don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“I’m beginning to think that football ended up on my beach towel on purpose.”

“Nah, Bob just can’t pass for shit.”

You laughed, the sound a little breathless as you felt Bradley shifting behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you watched him pull off the towel wrapped around his waist, and were greeted with the sight of his hard cock smacking up against his stomach, already looking incredibly wet - and not because he’d just gotten out of the shower.

“Bradley,” you sighed, laying your cheek down on the pillow.

He fisted his cock lazily a few times, his eyes roaming over your back and your ass, before he was swallowing thickly and pushing your legs apart. Bradley settled between your legs, gently kissing the curve of your spine, the dip just before the swell of your ass. His hands gripped you gently, reverently, and you shifted the tiniest bit in an attempt to get some friction against your clit.

“Can I, sweetheart?” Bradley hummed against your skin, warm from a morning of laziness and warmth beneath your comfiest clothes.

He didn’t need to elaborate.

“Yes.”

You listened to something that sounded like a groan and a sigh of relief escape past his lips before he gripped at your underwear, shimmying them down your legs. You carefully helped to kick them off without kicking him in the face, the crotch, or anywhere else for that matter.

The only thing about being on your stomach that you didn’t care for was that you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t see his face, attempt to figure out what he was thinking, or see what was coming next. That was part of what delighted you, but Bradley already sounded so wrecked and he hadn’t done anything but kiss you and take your bottoms off.

Bradley’s lips brushed against the swell of one of your cheeks, and you pursed your lips together tightly. He’d grabbed, slapped, groped, and spanked your ass plenty of times since you’d started seeing one another, but as far as you could recall this was the first time that he had kissed your ass. Those kisses soon turned into playful nips, and it being a sensation that you weren’t accustomed to, you wriggled against the sheets once more.

“Okay, sweetheart?” Bradley asked, pausing in his ministrations.

You nodded mutely, before responding with a broken “yes.”

Suddenly, he was spreading your cheeks apart, and you inhaled sharply. You had a vague idea of what you were in for, but nothing could have prepared you for Bradley’s tentative tongue against your asshole. The sound that came out of you was one that you hadn’t made before, and then that had you making another unfamiliar sound.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Bradley rasped, amazed. “I’ve barely done anything.”

“Don’t care,” you moaned. “Feels good. Different.”

Bradley pressed a kiss against the back of one of your thighs and smiled against your skin before returning to where he had been moments before. You clutched at the sheets beneath your body as Bradley’s tongue gently laved against your hole, his hands kneading at your rear, fingers digging into the supple and soft flesh. He was soon tonguing at you more enthusiastically, the slip and slide of his tongue against you feeling and sounding deliciously improper.

You gasped his name, and pressed back against his face.

“Yes, that’s it,” Bradley groaned in approval. The gentle push and pull of his hands momentarily deviated into giving your ass another hearty smack, and you cried out, arching against the bed once more.

As if Bradley eating your ass wasn’t shocking and wonderful itself, he then did something completely unexpected. You heard him spit before you felt it against your hole.

“Did you -” God, you sounded absolutely wrecked and were still writhing against the bed, “- did you just spit on me?”

“It can get a little dry back here,” Bradley replied, an air of mirth in his voice before his tongue was dragging against you once more.

New kink unlocked. You needed Bradley to spit on you a) from now on, and b) on and into other orifices as well as your asshole.

For the first time, the brush of his moustache against your skin didn’t leave you giggling, but left you wanting more. Every sense felt heightened, and that was before the tip of Bradley’s tongue was breaching you.

“Oh my god,” you whined, pressing your forehead against the mattress. If anyone had asked you before that day how you felt about your partner rimming you, you probably would’ve been ambivalent toward it. Now you were sure it was going to feature on your list of requests in the bedroom. You figured that Bradley wouldn’t have any protests.

Just as Bradley’s tongue pressed inside, he was dragging two fingers along the wetness between your legs. Relieved to have the contact, you threw your head back and gasped, before pushing back - onto his thick fingers, onto his tongue.

“Bradley,” you gasped, fucking yourself slowly on his fingers.

“You’re so fucking dirty,” Bradley groaned, plunging his tongue back into you, his fingers hooking into you in just the right spot. “Fuck baby, your pretty little cunt is just pulling my fingers in.”

You were going to say something clever, but he ripped a fervent wail from you instead. There were a cacophony of noises in the bedroom - your cries, Bradley’s fingers plunging into your cunt, his mouth devouring you through his own gentle moans - and it quickly became too much. You bent toward him as you came, trapping his face and his fingers exactly where you wanted them, exactly where he had put them.

“God,” Bradley gasped, pulling his fingers and his tongue from you, though he seemed reluctant to do so.

You were laying against the sheets, mewling as you felt Bradley moving again to straddle the backs of your thighs. Through your post-orgasm haze, you glanced over your shoulder to watch as he situated his cock between your cheeks, wet with saliva, and some of your wetness that he’d dragged there.

Mouth opened to speak, Bradley answered your question before you asked it, hands grabbing at the globes of your ass and pushing them closer together, dragging the head of his cock against your hole, and fucking the tight channel he’d created.

“Baby,” Bradley whined, head thrown back. “Baby, holy fuck.”

You laid there squirming, feeling a little oversensitive after coming, as Bradley rutted against you, fucking between your cheeks. Knowing he had already been far gone while eating you out and fucking your with his fingers, you weren’t at all shocked when you felt him twitching against you, fingers digging into your ass, hot come shooting across your back.

Bradley fell forward, catching himself from falling directly onto you by bracing his hands against the bed. You were still undulating against the bed, pressing back against him, and he shuddered, turning his head and pressing a kiss against your cheek.

“Sorry that was brief,” he murmured, breathless as he planted kisses on you everywhere that his mouth could reach.

You turned your head too, kissing Bradley awkwardly on his mouth, tongue licking at his bottom lip. When you pulled away, you were still searching for something to say, not because you couldn’t think of anything, but because your brain felt like it had been through a food processor.

“Bradley,” you began, looking into his blown brown eyes, “you spit on me.”

“What?”

“You spit on me!” you laughed.

He wasn’t certain if he was in trouble or not, and managed a small laugh. “Was that okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, that was okay,” you chuckled, your hand curling behind his head, fingers working their way slowly through his curls, scratching at his scalp. “I don’t know what I’m more mad about though. That it turned me on, or it took me this long to figure it out.”

/end.

#rooster fic #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #reader x bradley bradshaw #rooster #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #reader insert #writing #fic #antiquitea.fic

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roosterforme · 1 year

Text

No Nut November I Top Gun Dagger Squad edition

Summary: When left to their own devices for too long, the Dagger Squad aviators usually got up to no good.

Warnings: Humor, adult banter, smut, ridiculousness

Length: 1700 words

Pairing: a mention of Rooster x girlfriend and Payback x hookup

Check my masterlist for more!

When left to their own devices for too long, the Dagger Squad aviators usually got up to no good. As they finished a group run and headed into the gym for some weight training, one such conversation began to take form.

"Halloween was fun last night," Phoenix said with a yawn. "The Hard Deck was wild though."

"Yeah," Fanboy agreed, shaking his head as he got a bench press set up. "Crazy! But November is a way more chill month."

Hangman snickered. "Chill? You think No Nut November is chill?"

Coyote shook his head as he did some squats. "It's the roughest month of the year!"

A bubble of laughter escaped Bob. "What's No Nut November? Like no peanuts?

"More like no penis," drawled Hangman. "Or vagina," he added when he saw the look Phoenix was giving him. "It's a competition. You try to stay ejaculation free for the entire month. Who's game?"

"Count me out," Rooster promptly said. "My girlfriend will absolutely not go for this."

"Come on, Rooster," Payback said. "You don't even have to tell her you're participating."

Rooster stared at him in confusion. "I think she might notice something's up if I go from being balls deep inside her at least once a day to giving her nothing!"

"There are workarounds, Rooster. Don't you ever use your mouth for anything other than whining?" Phoenix asked, earning laughs from the others.

"Hmmm," Rooster rolled his eyes at her and contemplated how he could get away with participating.

"Well, if it's a competition, what does the winner get?" Bob asked.

"The satisfaction of knowing they aren't weak minded," Hangman informed him. "And I'll hang up a gold star outside the locker rooms that says 'Ejaculation Champ' with their name on it. Now, who's in?"

"Yeah," Payback said with a nod as he picked up a barbell.

"I'll do it," Fanboy added.

"Me too," agreed Coyote.

"Sure, sounds intriguing," Bob said with a nod.

"I...will hesitantly say yes. I will probably regret this," Rooster said with a sigh.

The guys all turned and looked at Phoenix who was stretching before she started weight training. "Oh, I'm already out. I lost."

Rooster's brow scrunched up. "What do you mean you're already out? It's November 1st at 9:30 in the morning."

Phoenix just smirked at the boys. "I had a guest over last night," she said coyly.

"Legendary," Fanboy muttered. "You've got more game than all of the rest of us combined."

"Are you kidding me?" asked Hangman. "Less than ten hours into the month and you're already out? I'm actually kind of impressed."

Phoenix just shrugged. "The gold star would have been nice, but it was worth it."

Hangman sighed and turned back to the guys. "We've all got to be one hundred percent truthful. If you nut, you're out. And you need to admit to it."

The guys all agreed. And thus the month of November became a thing of legend.

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

On November 6th, Coyote woke up with morning wood. He got all comfy in bed and took care of himself. "No better way to start your day," he muttered as he cleaned himself up. "Oh, shit!"

He had fucking forgotten about the bet!

When he got to base and saw the guys, he just shook his head.

"You nutted!" accused Fanboy immediately.

"Yeah," Coyote admitted. "I just completely forgot about the bet, and I....jerked off this morning." He winced, and the guys looked at him with disdain.

"Well you can kiss that gold star goodbye," Hangman told him. "Everyone else hanging in there?"

"Yeah," they all said in unison.

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

On November 10th, Fanboy hit up his favorite movie theater for throwback night. They were showing Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, one of his all-time favorites.

He settled in with his bucket of popcorn, ready to enjoy the film. But then disaster struck. Maybe it was because he'd already gone too long without masturbating, or maybe it was because she was just so hot, but as soon as he saw Princess Leia in her golden, slave bikini, he was rock hard.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered, still hard by the time the movie ended. He had to hold the popcorn bucket in front of his shorts on the way to his car. "Okay, pull it together, man." But by the time he got back to his apartment, he was panting and in pain.

"I can't make it!" he said, carefully taking his shorts off and touching himself. The relief was immediate, but the disappointment he felt would surely linger.

The next day on the tarmac, he told the others, "It was the damn bikini! It had me in its sights, and I didn't stand a chance! I could have made it through The Empire Strikes Back, no problem! I should have known better!"

Hangman, Rooster, Bob and Payback all sized each other up. Shit was getting real.

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

By November 15th, Rooster estimated he'd gone down on his girlfriend about a hundred times so far this month. This wouldn't have been a problem for him at all, except now his jaw was starting to ache, and she was desperately trying to reciprocate.

"You're so good, baby," she moaned as she came on his face.

Rooster gritted his teeth and dug his nails into his palms. "Anything for you, honey," he grunted. God, he was painfully hard, and now she was crawling across the bed toward him.

"You want me to go down on you now?" she asked, reaching for his shorts.

"No! Tonight is all about you!" he practically yelled at her.

She pouted a bit. "You've been saying that for weeks, Rooster. And now you're acting really weird. I want to make you feel good too."

"No! Ummm, let me finger you instead!" he shouted. "Lay down, honey. I got you."

But two nights later, he was outmaneuvered by her. As soon as she came from the pleasure his fingers and mouth provided, Rooster was rubbing his throbbing jaw and trying to think about something un-sexy. But she lunged for his boxers, pulled them down and ran her tongue along his dick.

"Honey, no!" he groaned, but it felt too good. Two more strokes of her tongue, and Rooster was panting and spurting his cum all over her face.

She looked up at him in shock. "That was fast."

Rooster paced around the gym on base the next day. "I'm out, okay? I'm out." He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. "I swear I tried my best! Plus I think I have permanent damage to my jaw! It's aching from how many times I went down on her!"

Payback cocked his head. "But if you were avoiding intercourse, how are you out?"

Rooster looked slightly crazed now. "She licked me! She licked me three times and I came all over the fucking place! And now she's concerned that I should talk to my doctor about premature ejaculation! I was out there in the trenches, fighting for my life, and now she thinks I have a disorder!"

The guys all nodded in solemn understanding.

Phoenix cracked up. "You're all idiots, I swear."

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

Payback had been so careful. He really wanted that gold star. It was November 28th, and he was feeling optimistic about his chances of winning.

"I've got this," he announced, bragging while playing pool at the Hard Deck. "The gold star is mine, dickheads."

Bob and Hangman would cave. He just knew it.

Then the cutest girl he'd ever seen started hitting on him. "Can I buy you a drink?" she asked shyly, and he was putty in her hands.

An hour later they were kissing next to the jukebox. An hour after that, she was touching him under his shirt.

"Okay, I'm out guys! I had a good run! See you tomorrow!" he announced merrily as he left the bar with her.

"Saw that coming from a mile away," Hangman drawled, sinking the eight ball. He knew he would make it to December 1st, because he knew he was mentally stronger than the rest of them. He prided himself on it.

So Hangman went to bed that night with a satisfied smile on his face. He woke up the next morning with a mess in his sheets.

He didn't even want to show his face at work, and he considered calling out sick. He managed to make it almost all the way out onto the tarmac by his F/A-18 when Payback and the others cornered him.

"You're looking really suspicious, man," Payback accused. "You're out, aren't you?"

Hangman nodded hoping to quickly steer the topic elsewhere. "Yes, I'm out. Congratulations, Bob. You win the gold star, man."

Bob pumped his fist in the air, and the rest congratulated him on his nutless month.

But it was with untrusting eyes that Rooster turned back toward Hangman, who was trying to sneak up the ladder into his aircraft. "Hey, Hangman! How did you get eliminated?"

"It's not important," he mumbled in response.

"Come on, everyone else admitted to how they got out," Rooster replied. "Couldn't be worse than ejaculating after a tongue touched you for approximately two seconds."

"Couldn't be worse than getting hard to Star Wars," Fanboy chimed in with a self-deprecating smile.

Hangman cradled his head in his hand. "Ihadawetdream."

Phoenix howled and bent in half laughing, but the guys all stepped a little closer to hear him better. "Sorry, you what?" asked Coyote.

"I had a wet dream!" Hangman shouted. "Okay? Happy now?"

And now the guys were howling along with Phoenix.

"Yes, hilarious," Hangman drawled. "How did you manage to win, Bob?"

Bob smiled serenely at everyone. "Oh, I practice mindful meditation for stress relief. Plus, my wife has been in Europe for work all month, so it was quite easy."

Bob jumped back as the guys all shouted at him in bewilderment. "You're married?!"

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