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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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Roughing It // JS x BB x Reader

Summary: Jake Seresin begged you, his best friend to go camping with him and Bradley Bradshaw—but not for the innocent reasons you might think. A simple camping trip turns into something much more unholy. Callsign— Giggles

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!Reader. Bradley Bradshaw x F!Reader. Unprotected sex. Male receiving oral. Choking. MxMxF Threesome. Creampie. Obvious power dynamics.

Word Count: 5.7k

Author Note: Happy Sunday—AKA, the Lords day. This is Roughing It’s 3rd rewrite & by far my favourite re-write & fandom. Enjoy Sluts.

In the quiet of the warm afternoon light that cascaded across Jake Seresin's living room—you found a spot in the warm orange hume to curl up on the lounge. You settled on your comfort movie—TopGun, Maverick. Your clammy hand caressed the TV remote as you pressed play, the opening sequence still and always would send chills through your body as you watched the carrier out to sea appear on the large crisp screen like you’d watched a million times before and would probably watch a million times more.

“High— way to the danger zone—“ You mumbled along as you settled in a little deeper, trying to will the inappropriate thoughts away. To say you were nervous was an understatement, neither you and Jake or you and Bradley had spoken about the events that had transpired a week ago and either of the two men who you’d had some of the roughest sex of your life with, no pun intended, had looked at you the same since.

“Just come over and hang out, Gigs?” You could hear Jake's voice in your head as you sat and tried to focus on the movie playing in front of you. “You’ve been avoiding me like the damn plague.”

There was a reason for that—

You couldn’t tell if Jake and Bradley were looking at you in disgust and regret at the thought of what the three of you had done or if they were just looking for an opportunity to have their way with you again. From fleeting glances in the halls or eyes that burned into the back of your head in the change rooms. Either way, it made you crave the two naval aviators more than you cared to admit.

It all happened so fast, you couldn’t remember exactly how it started but the one thing you knew for sure was that Jake was the one who imitated it. He’d been thinking about it for a hell of a long time before he put his plan into action too.

***~***~***~***

“For crying out loud Giggles! you complain more than Bradshaw does.” Jake huffed as he stood and turned away from where the two of you had been sitting on the camp log. “My god you’re driving me insane!” He groaned out as you turned your head to follow his trajectory. You could physically hear the frustration laced in Jake's tone of voice. “Just cut it out for like five minutes will ya?” Jake tried to level with you the best he could as he went around and grabbed a stray stick, he poked at the fire with it as he watched the bright orange embers fly into the night sky. You scoffed, cleaning the bowls from the delightful dinner of canned chicken soup and roasted vegetables.

“Bite my fucking ass, Seresin, maybe if you didn’t try to feed me cold inedible canned soup for dinner I wouldn’t be in such a pissy mood!” Jake Seresin had proven himself time and time again—he was a shocking cook. “You barely even followed the instructions! How hard is it to heat up a can of soup!”

“You haven’t stopped the entire day!” Jake felt his emotions running rampant after an exhausting day or setting up for the trip the three of you had been planning for weeks. You, Jake and Bradley had all aligned your work commitments to spend a few days in the wilderness together, off the grid, no phones and away from prying eyes. It was a much needed break from the world—the navy, F-18’s, commitments and Fanboys latest obsession with the new star wars movie.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, Jake couldn’t help but to raise his voice at you, he poked and prodded with the fire for a few moments more before he let his inhibitions get the better of him. Before Jake really knew what he was doing, his feet were taking him on a mission of their own, marching him over to where you were washing the used pots and pans out

“I’ve got a headache from your incessant complaining.” Seething, Jake towered over you from behind. His muscular build that rivals Adonis himself blocked the soft light of the moon. Watching as you shrugged him off with a simple eye roll–Jake didn't take well to being shrugged off so nonchalantly like your attitude wasn't a massive pain in his arse. He’d known you for the better half of ten years and you’d always been on his ��fuck it’ list.

“Then fucking leave me alone then!? God, it’s like you didn’t beg me to come with you guys even though you damn well know I hate everything associated with camping.” You let Jake have it as you placed the dirty pot you were working on into the soaping lukewarm later before you turned to face Jake completely. “You have a problem with my complaining, but you complaining about my complaining is worse than any complaining I've done.” Jake scoffed as you pushed your index finger into his chest– the action alone made him bite his tongue. He was as hard as a rock and felt like he could snap at any second. He wanted you, so bad. He needed to feel you.

“Come on Hangman, just let me get this shit done and we can go to bed.” You tried to soften the mood, you could see very clearly in Jake's emerald green eyes that he was ready to fight. His chest was puffed, his feet were firm and his jar was sharp–clenched tight to keep himself from speaking thoughts he only ever thought about when he was alone and jerking himself off into existence. “Go to bed–I'll be right behind you.” You smiled softly before you patted Jake's chest three times with a gently open palm before you turned back to where you had been working away at the dishes. “You know, you’re kinda acting like you want me to bitch and moan your ear off? You shoul–” Before you could finish your sentence, Jake's large and slightly calloused hand wrapped around your jaw. He covered your mouth as he pressed his chest against your back and held you securely against him by bringing his other arm around your waist. breathing heavily through your nose your eyes widened when you felt Jakes hard on press against the small of your back, you couldn’t process what was happening fast enough.

Jake had seen his opportunity and taken it. The two of you had always had sexual tension but you refused to do anything about it for the sake of your own image. He was a great friend, a questionable wingman at times, but Jake Seresin had never been a guy on your roster. Until now when your sexual tension reached new peaks and Jake finally cracked under the pressure.

All it took was an off grid camping trip

“Maybe I needed an excuse to finally fuck that pretty mouth of yours.” Jake groaned as he felt you shudder under his touch. “I always find myself jerking off to the thought of your lips around me.” His warm breath fanned across the supple skin of your neck before he softly pressed his lips to the juncture of your neck–leaving a gentle kiss against your collarbone that sent instant goosebumps over you like a shock tsunami. “The thought of what your lips would feel like wrapped around me Gigs really makes me question my sanity.” A soft whimper escaped your mouth and vibrated against the palm of Jake's hand. “But you already know that, you always have, haven't you?”

“Hey Guys?” Bradley called out from inside the tent to where he knew you and Jake were. All Jake did was press himself further into your back and hold his hand against your mouth a little tighter, willing you to keep quiet as he responded to Rooster.

“What's up Bradshaw, I thought you went to bed ages ago?”

“Well I tried but your bickering back and forth was kinda hard to ignore–” Neither you nor Jake could contest that statement. “Just try not to kill each other out there, please? And shut the fuck up!”

“We’re good, aren't we Y/n?” Jake replied as he reluctantly pulled his hand away from your mouth. This was your chance to tell Jake to rack off. This was your chance to tell him you didn't want any of this, that he’d read you wrong and it had all been innocent fun. But he hadn’t read you wrong, you wanted Jake just as badly as he wanted him. You were just too afraid to admit it.

“Yeah, we’re good.” You added to Jake's surprise. It was all the confirmation he needed. “Night Rooster!” It didn't take long for Jake to spring into action, he was desperate and needed to get you out of his system before you had a chance to fully infect his entire being. If the two of you fucked and got it out of your system, then he could still walk away unscathed. There were feelings bubbling under the surface but Jake Seresin didn't do feelings.

“Why’d you bring me out here?” You asked as you turned around to face Jake. “You could’ve just asked me to suck you off in the comfort of your own bed?” There wasnt an awful lot of space left between the two of you as you stood shrouded in the soft glow of the moonlight. You made your move and wrapped your arms up and around Jake's shoulders, he followed suit and mirrored your actions by closing the gap, your lips now ghosted his as Jake smiled against you. “I'm sure if you had asked me to, I would have played into your dirty little fantasies.” You could feel Jake trying to kiss you, but much to his display and desperate attempts to feel your lips on his you kept your playful smirk smeared across your face and pulled further away. “I can assure you that whatever fantasy you've concocted that gets you off at night, the real things ten times better.”

“Just” Jake paused, his hands gripped at your waist to pull you flush against him. He couldn't risk you getting away from him. Not now. “Just didn’t wanna risk the neighbours putting in a noise complaint.” Giggling, you made the move to connect your lips against Jake’s. A heated, passion filled kiss had you both gripping at different parts of each other’s bodies as you walked back closer towards the tent, specifically the fallen tree in front of it.

You pushed Jake down by guiding him with a gentle hand on his shoulder–there was not a single part of his being that objected to your dominance. He felt his dick twitch inside his sweats at the action. You stood before him for a second with a wicked smirk across your face. Jake knew you were into this just as much as he was.

“Are you just gonna stand there Giggles or are you gonna get to work?” Jake teased you as he trailed a hand up between your legs. “I'm dying here.” You waisted not a second longer as you dropped gracefully to your knees before him. You played with the elastic of Jake's sweats as he helped you wiggled them down his toned and oh so muscular legs–pulling them down towards his ankles until there was nowhere left for them to go except discharged and forgotten about. With a slight chuckle, you gripped his hardened length in your right hand, barely moving your palm up and down his shaft just to watch him swim under your warm touch.

“Fuck–” Jake sighed in relief as you slowly moved your palm. It was barely nothing, the pad of your thumb swiped across his leaking tip to collect some of his pre cum. The essence of Sersin. “Fucking christ–”

“Going commando, something you do regularly, Hungman?” You made sure to tease the man putty in your hands before taking his tip in your mouth, you rolled your tongue gently over his flushed tip. Pink and bright and oh so sensitive. The colour of his lips. Sensitive and begging for your unconditional attention.

“Nah, just somethin’--” Jake couldn't think straight, he couldn’t formulate a full sentence as you worked your hand over him, jerking him off slowly but perfectly. “Oh my god–” Jake moaned, too caught up in the pleasure you were giving him as you took him deeper down your throat, inch by inch, so far down your tiny throat, his manscaped pubic hair tickled the tip of your nose. “Gifs—fuckin’ Christ, where did you learn how to do that?” His voice was raspy and heavy as he tried to control his breathing. His hand made a makeshift ponytail with your hair as you bobbed up and down, gagging softly around Jake's cock as it twitched and leaked pre-cum onto your tongue. With your watery eyes, so lust filled and dowy peering up at him, Jake thought for sure he’d entered the gates of heaven.

“Sounds like someone’s a little bit jealous of those who got to cum before you Seresin.” You took Jake's saliva coated cock from your mouth and pumped him with your hand, he watched through hooded eyes as you took both his balls in your mouth softly as you began to glide your tongue gently over the sensitive skin. “Taste so good Jake—“

“Fuck—“ This was everything Jake Seresin had fantasised about. “Yess—Y/n, oh my god.'' Jake wasn’t being discreet at all, his moans filled the campground and echoed off the mountains as you jerked his thick throbbing cock and sucked so delicately on his balls. In hindsight, it wasn’t the smartest idea to give Jake head right in front of the tent you both planned on sharing with Bradley Bradshaw. It was needless to say—you’d fucked up.

As you went back to take Jake entire cock down your throat, you closed your eyes as they watered. Never stopping for a moment to see the familiar silhouette of Bradley standing just behind Jake, watching on as his best friend gave some of the sloppiest head to his other best friend he’d ever seen. He didn’t know how to truly feel about the sight unfolding before him, but Rooster surely felt the strain of his sweats becoming a little more noticeable with every passing second.

The second Jake saw Bradley, he tried shooing him off, mouthing a soft “fuck off” as he tried to hold his orgasm back. He looked sucked out as all hell and you’d only given him head. He didn’t think he was prepared for how you’d feel fluttering around his length.

“Uhh! Fuck Giggles, keep doin’ that and I’m going to cum down that pretty fucking throat of yours.” Jake confessed, his hand helped to guide your head down his shaft as you gagged and hummed around him. Bradley’s eyes widened as he made himself scarce, shocked at the sight he just saw. He couldn’t see you like that, he wasn’t Jake. He couldn’t take advantage of you. He couldn’t ruin you like he’d always wanted to.

“That’s the point Jake, don’t hold back, flood my throat.” You looked up through your lashes, looked up to see Jake's flushed face as his mouth fell open into an O shape, his eyes trained on you as you went back to furiously sucking his cock, hard and fast. Your other hand continued fondling his balls, squeezing them slightly as his orgasm approached.

“Fuck! Shit, ahhh- Y/n m’cumming, fuck, fuck ohhhh—!” Jake's orgasm washed over him. He could feel the pool at the base of his shaft beginning to overflow, ready to explode. When he did he shot deep down your throat in hot spirits as his cock twitched in your mouth. Jake's entire body stilled as he fell victim to his orgasm, the intense wave of pleasure took over his entire being as he let out a prolonged moan. All consuming.

“Holy fuck.” Jake sighed heavily as he tried to catch his breath after coming down from his high. He watched as you swallowed his entire load, licking the tip of his swollen length, making sure nothing was left behind, that nothing was wasted.

“Did that live up to all those naughty thoughts?” You questioned as you sat back on your heels, watching as Jake pulled his sweatpants back up his toned legs—missing the sight of him the second he was covered.

“Oh” Jake exclaimed, a smile appeared wide and wild on his crimson flushed face as his free hand worked to push back his slightly damp hair. “That exceeded everything I ever thought it would be like.” You nodded, proud of your efforts as you rose to your feet, standing between Jake's legs as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His hands immediately helped your hips still so you couldn’t move.

He wasn’t done with you yet.

“Hope it doesn’t change anything between us?” You asked softly, leaning over to plant your lips against his, the slight taste of his cum still evident and present on your swollen lips. Tasting himself for the first time, Jake didn’t quite mind. It made his heart pump with lust and adrenaline as anticipation for what was to come lingered in the air.

“That won’t change anything.” He whispered into your open mouth, his forehead rested against yours as you maneuvered yourself down to straddle his waist. “But once I watch you suck Rooster off while I fuck that tight cunt I know you’ve got, might be a different story.” Before you could answer, you heard what sounded like Bradleys metal water bottle falling to the ground from inside the tent.

“What!?” Bradley shouted as you did the same, only softer yet just as confused. Jake didn’t just say that—did he?

“C’mon Gigs,” Jake smirked as he placed some of your freely flowing hair behind your ear. “Bradley saw what you just did and I know he has the same twisted thoughts as me, s’not fair now is it?”

You didn’t respond right away as Jake moved your jumper to the side and kissed at your collarbone—the moonlight danced across his tones shoulders as you mulled over his proposal. To be completely objectifying, Bradley Bradshaw was incredibly attractive. You couldn’t deny you’d thought about him from time to time when you found yourself alone and in need of a release. You just thought it was completely out of the realm of possibility.

Turns out with Jake's help, it wasn’t.

“I guess not.” You answered meekly before kissing Jake once more, your tongue dancing with his gracefully, like you were searching for his soul and he yours. Jake waisted not a second more as he picked you up and had you straddle his waist. He walked you over to the small two-man that was inevitably going to be a three man tent and dropped you to your feet at the door.

“Bradshaw, you have a total of five seconds to open this door before I change my mind on sharing.” As Jake spoke through the tent door, you began taking your jumper off, exposing your bare chest to him, his jaw hanging open when he noticed your perky tits. Kissed by the chill of the cool night.

“Oh fuck.” His voice was unrecognisably low and full of lust. “Maybe I shouldn’t be so keen on sharing you.” His hand came out to grip your right nipple between his index finger and thumb as Bradley opened the door, already naked and hard as ever. A slight wince left your lips from the sudden pinch Jake gave your nipple as he rolled it between the pads of his index finger and thumb.

“I uh—“ Bradley stuttered, rubbed at the back of his head like a school boy who’d been caught writing crude and inappropriate comments on his desk. “I was already jerking off after I saw you take Jake balls deep in your throat.” Bradleys cock twitched against his lower abdomen as he sat back awkwardly. He’d only reached up to unzip the tent door.

Jake pulled hard against your nipple, making you walk closer to him before shoving you gently into the tent, a sinful smile grew upon your face as Bradley lost his positioning and fell back, welcoming you into the tiny room as he reached out to stop you from falling on top of his. He looked all kinds of nervous, worried even.

“S’okay Rooster.” You cooed innocently enough for him to let his guard down slightly. “I promise I won't bite unless you want me to.” You teased, dropping to your knees before him while Bradley worked quickly to lay down on his back, hands resting behind his head.

“I can't believe we’re fucking doing this? This is crazy we shouldn’t I mean, c’mon Jake it's Y/n for fuck sake, she’s our bes–” Bradley couldnt finish his sentence, the second your lips were taking the tip of his throbbing length inside your warm mouth he lost all sense of insecurity about the situation. Nothing else mattered expert for your excerpt touch. The sensation of euphoria you bought him. “Oh holy shit” Your hand wrapped tightly around the base of this shaft as your tongue ran up the thick vein that ran up his entire shaft. Your lips felt heavenly around his sensitive and exposed, pre-cum covered tip and before Rooster could even wrap his mind around what it truly was extracurricular activities he was about to engage in–you had sunk lower and lower, taking every inch of his thick cock in your mouth.

Without hesitation.

Bradley tip was slightly darker than Jakes, you didn’t need much time at all for your throat to adjust to the foreign object making its presence known in the back of your throat over and over again due to you just having just finished sucking the life from Jake. You were prepped and ready to be whatever they needed you to be under the stars and away from the hullabaloo of Miramar. Tonight you weren't Lieutenant Y/n Giggles Y/L/N–you were Hangman and Roosters little fuck toy.

You got to work in no time, gagging and roughly sucking up and down Bradley’s entire shaft, watching through hooded eyes as Bradley moaned and groaned uncontrollably from the pleasure he was receiving. You were between his legs as he reached out for your head, guiding you down his length. You felt Jake's hands come to the waistband of your sweatpants, he pulled them down as your mouth continued to bob up and down on Bradley’s cock.

“Huh?'' Jake scoffed as he bit hard on his bottom lip. “Going commando, something you do regularly, Giggles?” He teased as his large slightly calloused hands slid up and over your peachy ass as it stuck up in the air, ready for his length to slide in your drenched cunt. Smiling around Bradley’s cock you gaged slightly. Pumping Bradley’s shaft with your hand as you went to answer Jake. You could very much feel his tip gliding over your dripping lips from behind. You were ready and oh so needy for him to fill your needy little pussy.

“Nah, just something—“ You began to mimic what Hangman had told you before, but you didn't have enough time to give him attitude before you felt Jake push himself between your slick folds. He trusted his thick cock inside you, slowly, he stretched your tight pussy out so much so it almost stung. But it felt good, oh so fucking good. “Ahhh fuck!” You cried around Bradley’s cock now balls deep down your throat. It was a position you never thought you’d find yourself in. Sucking Bradley’s cock while Jake took you from behind, taking both your best friends at the same time.

“You like this Y/n? like how we both fuck you?“ Jake asked as he bottomed out inside your tight cunt, he could feel you clench around the bottom of his cock, tip pressed against your cervix. Bradley roughly pulled you up by your hair, watching as spit trailed from your bottom lip to his swollen tip. With a needy gasp, you looked up at him wickedly, begging him to use you just with a lustful look.

“Answer the question Y/n, do you like the way we both fuck you?” Bradley’s voice had turned into a low deep growl, his eyes had darkened from the dust brown you were familiar with to a near black mirage, full of lust unlike moments ago when he almost backed out–unsure of the decision he made to fuck his best friend. As Jake's hands gripped your hips and began to thrust faster in and out of you, you moaned in response.

“Uh huh, l love the way you both feel ohh—god Jake you’re so big, fuck me–” Hearing you moan how big his cock was sent Jake into the stratasphere with his ego in toe, with your encouragement he began to fuck you harder, with more force. Bradley forced your head back down onto his cock, both his hands guiding your head up and down using your hair. Like you were his personal flesh light.

“You weren’t fucking wrong man, her mouths so damn good.” Bradley’s hips beginning to lift off the ground as he fucked your mouth. Stopping every few minutes to pull you off him just so he could look at how pretty your fucked face looked. Your tears were so beautiful, all because of him.

“Wait till you feel her tight cunt, fuck so tight its almost hard to move.” Jake was relentlessly pounding into you, the sound of his balls smacking against the curve of your ass could be heard in the silence that lingered between grunts and unapologetically loud moans of pure ecstasy.

“Jake! Please, I'm gonna cum!” You cried, the coil within your core had begun to tighten every time Jakes tip pressed against your cervix. Bradley sat up, his hand came flying to your mouth as he shoved three of his digits inside your mouth, opening your jaw wide before leaning in close to you.

“That’s it Y/n, cum around Hangman’s cock so I can fuck you harder, fuck you till you black out, fuck you till your begging for me to stop.” Bradleys words had you nearly ascending as he coaxed you towards your high with just his words. “I wanna feel how tight your cunt is.”

“Rooster, choke her when she cums–” Jake ordered, Bradley waisted not a second as he wrapped his hand around throat and pressed his fingers into the side of your supple neck. He reached between your legs to softly rub small circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves, an instantaneous quiver left your throat as his finger made contact, Bradley never for a second took his eyes off yours. He wanted to see you come undone like this, all for him and Jake. Just for him and Jake.

“Ahh! F-fuck, m’cumming!” You whimpered as Braldey tightened his hold on your throat, he could see the small veins appearing in your forehead from the lack of oxygen but knew by the look in your eyes alone that you were loving this just as much as he was. Your pussy clenching so tightly around Jake's slicked up cock he almost stilled from the grip.

“Ahh fuck! Rooster, holy fuck she’s like a vice!” Jake groaned as he fucked you hard through your high. “She’s creaming around my dick, fuck—” This had been Jake Seresin greatest idea, to fuck his best friends.

Bradley began to fuck your face with the same fingers he’d teased your clit with, he made you gag on them as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, trembling as you came hard around Jakes cock. Once he saw you coming down from your high, Bradle tentatively removed his hand from around your throat, watching with wide eyes as you gasped heavily for air, welcoming the new wave of oxygen that you’d been deprived of into your lungs. Tears streamed down your fucked out face.

“Jake let me fuck her—“ Bradley whimpered out desperately as he pumped his cock fast. He waited for Jake to pull out and share, but he was ready to explode. He gripped your chin with a wicked glare as he squashed your lips together. “You don't know what you're in for, baby.” It was a warning but you quivered with excitement nevertheless before Rooster stuck the pad of his thumb between your lips and spat into your mouth, rubbing your bottom lip with his thumb. “You’re gonna ride my dick.” Bradley told you with no hesitation evident in his tone as you nodded with eagerness. Jake pulled out of you with a hard slap to your right ass cheek, causing you to let out a whine.

“Ah!” You hissed as the sting lingered well after Jakes had left your ass, you immediately crawled closer to Bradley and straddled his waist, you manoeuvred his length to line up with your creaming entrance. Jake wasted no time in coming to stand above Bradley, his cock throbbing, ready to explode yet again as he moved your sweat covered hair to one side.

“Uhh fuck!” You whined as you sunk onto Bradley’s slightly thicker cock, his hands roamed your naked body as Jake pulled your mouth back onto his cock, needy for your mouth yet again.

“Holy fuck! Ah fuck, fuck, fuck, god you're so tight! So fuckin’ tight Y/n ride my dick just like that, yes—!” Bradley mumbled, continuously biting his bottom lip as he felt you bounce on his cock. He was in heaven, you were the best pussy he’d ever had.

“Told you.” Jake moaned from above, his hands held onto both sides of your face as he bucked his hips softly into your throat, letting you do most of the work as he focused on chasing his second high of the night. “Slap her ass.” And so Bradley did, he slapped your ass over and over, harder every time you came down on his cock, the sting was so deep you knew you’d have a reminder of the night the come morning.

“Fuck can I cum inside you? fuck please say yes?” Bradley whimpered as you rode him, Jake took his cock from your mouth before slapping it against your open and awaiting tongue.

“Answer him!” He hissed, so close to his second orgasm it was making his eyes water and his knees weak.

“Y-yes fuck, Rosoter! flood my fucking pussy, please!” You cried out into the secluded tent, completely exhausted and fucked out. Bradley gripped at your hips before bending his knees, fucking up into you so hard and fast you fell forward onto Jakes cock, deep throating him unexpectedly and bringing him to that sweet sweet orgasm he’d been chasing.

“Oh fuck fuck fuck!” Jake groaned, pulling his cock from your mouth and pulling your hair back, exposing your entire face in front of him as he pumped his throbbing cock in his hand, hot spurts of cum were quick to come flying all over your fucked-out face. “Arrgghhh yes baby that's it, look so pretty covered in my cum.”

Jakes cum completely covered your face, a facial so thick it dripped down your chin and neck as it slowly made its way to your perky tits.

“Oh god you look so fucking hot like that.” Jake confessed, running this thumb over your bottom lip to collect some of his cum before making you suck it off. Bradley wasn’t far behind, never slowing his thrust for a second while Jake unloaded all over your face.

“M’cummingRoo! Fuck don’t stop!” You gasped aloud, your voice broke as you reached between Bradley and yourself to rub your throbbing sensitive bud. “Aaah- fuck yes!” You moaned a heavenly near pornographic groan as you came hard around Bradley Bradshaw, squirting unexpectedly all over him in the process.

“Yes! Yes! Oh fuck I’m uhhh—“ Bradley spilled his entire load into your tight cunt, creating a mixture of your cum and his as Jakes dripped from your face down your chest.

“What— what fuck just happened?” You all asked each other as both Jake and Bradley cleaned you off, completely taken aback at the events that had just passed now that your need and lust had begun to fade.

***~***~***~***

You didn’t know at what part of the movie you fell deep into thought, reminiscing about the camping trip you took a week ago with your best friends but it was the sound of Jake’s voice that brought you out of it, only to realise you had been rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves the entire time, right there on his lounge. Hand sunk low into your sweats.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” He questioned, leaning against the wall casually before he began sauntering over to you with a devilish smirk upon his face.

“I uh, I uh don’t” You stuttered, fumbling around as you sat up. You knew you had been caught, but you still tried your best to act like you had no idea what he was talking about. “How long were you just standing there watching me for like some weirdo?” Jake ignored your question. He was on a mission.

“Were you thinking about our camping trip?” Jake asked as he slowly walked over, unbuckling his belt as you noticed the hard girth showing through his dress pants, having just come back from a meeting. He was so hard it looked painful. It was painful. You looked down at Jake's crotch for a little too long, then up, down then back up, Jake’s eyes had been locked on you the entire time. Working to stand before you—his belt slipping around your neck as he tightened the loop. His hand guided yours over his clothes cock—begging for your touch.

“Or was it just me?”

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spacecaravan · 1 year

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sleepy girl,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wants you to answer, you know this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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tongue-like-a-razor · 2 years

Note

Hey can you do a reunion with rooster And it be really fluffy

Thank you for the really sweet prompt @callsignmaverick5! I wasn't sure if you meant reunion like they're both aviators and they meet up after some time apart, or if he is with a civilian and returns home from deployment. I chose the latter but wouldn't be opposed to also writing the former if anybody's interested <3

It Was Always You

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Summary: Your maybe, sort-of boyfriend, Bradley Bradshaw, returns from deployment, but you aren't sure if he's still on the same page.

CW: Swearing, fluff, some feels

The bell of the door rings out and you look up as it swings open. In comes Hangman with a sly smirk and your hand freezes mid-swipe across the counter. He’s eyeing you mischievously as he holds the door open behind him. Your fingers tighten around the cloth on the bar top.

You haven’t seen your boyfriend – if you could really call him that – in over six months. You’d only been dating – if you could call it that – for about six weeks before he was deployed, and communication while he was away has been scarce due to the nature of his mission, so you aren’t entirely sure where the two of you currently stand. Six months apart is a long time for a new relationship – if you could call it that – but you can’t seem to catch your breath because he’s all you’ve thought about since the moment he left.

You watch Hangman uneasily as he winks at you and then peeks outside with a squint. “Rooster,” he calls. “Did you fall in a ditch?”

At the sound of his name, you let out a sharp breath that leaves you mildly lightheaded. There’s a glare on the shiny surface of the counter from where the afternoon sun has settled that hurts your eyes, but you stubbornly look past it despite the sting, observing the dust dancing in the light filtering through the open door. A suffocating heat cascades inside, together with a sandy breeze, just as a broad-shouldered silhouette appears at the threshold. With the sunshine in behind, his face is obscured by shadow, but the Hawaiian shirt rippling around his torso gives him away.

“Geez, Bradley, you sure know how to make an entrance,” you hear Penny’s voice from behind.

You let out a small, nervous laugh at her comment, releasing the rag still in your grasp, your hand cramping from how tightly you’ve been clutching it. Bradley Bradshaw, after all, will probably want a drink. You flex your hand a couple of times and wipe it on your jeans as he takes a step inside. Hangman lets the door shut, glancing between you and Bradley expectantly as Bradley’s face finally comes into view.

You meet his gaze anxiously. He’s watching you with a mildly dazed expression, as though he can’t quite believe that he’s seeing you in the flesh. He takes a couple of hesitant steps forward, studying your face as if he’s unsure how you feel about him showing up out of the blue. You wonder if perhaps he’s also questioned the permanence of your pre-deployment fling.

He looks so sexy just standing there with his lip curling upward ever so slightly as he admires you from a distance. After several moments of prolonged, passionate eye contact during which you swallow profusely while he breathes heavily, Bradley bites the bullet and picks up his pace, his strides becoming increasingly wider as he nears the bar.

He's practically sprinting as he rounds the counter toward you and, as you’re turning to face him, he lunges forward, wrapping you in an embrace. You stagger slightly at the force of the impact, bringing your arms around his back as his head dips into the crook of your neck. You can feel the tickle of his mustache on your skin as his mouth glides over your bare shoulder.

“You’re back,” you whisper, pressing your cheek into the wave of his hair as he leaves a searing trail of kisses along your neck.

He stops just below your jawline, a hot mist bathing your earlobe as he breathes. “You’re here,” he responds quietly.

You squeeze him tighter against you, wishing you never had to let go of him again.

Bradley reciprocates the squeeze, taking a step forward to press you into the bar in behind. His mouth is still lingering at your ear. “You smell like home,” he whispers, planting a soft kiss along the side of your face.

You close your eyes. “So do you.”

Bradley pulls you even closer, nearly lifting you off the ground. “Oh, baby, please tell me you’re still my girl,” he pleads in a low, raspy tone, his lips still moving over your ear.

Affected by the desperation in his voice, the flutter in your stomach gives way to an ache – a need – for Bradley Bradshaw. You pull your face away slightly so that you can look up into his eyes.

He holds your gaze for only a moment before resting his forehead over yours with a sigh.

“I’m still yours if you’re still mine,” you murmur as he brushes your nose with the tip of his.

He closes his eyes. “I will be yours forever, I promise you,” he breathes.

You smile at his affirmation, your fingers weaving through his hair as you lift your face. There isn’t anything nearly as romantic that you can think of to say in response, so you just pull him in gently for a kiss.

Bradley’s lips move urgently over yours as he presses himself further into your body and your back further into the counter. “God, I missed you so much,” he mutters just before sliding his tongue across your upper lip.

“I missed you,” you murmur against his lips. You feel his hand slip into the back pocket of your jeans and he pulls you against his hips.

“I love you,” Bradley says without breaking the kiss. It’s the first time he’s said it, but it feels strangely familiar, like you’ve known all along. “I love you,” he repeats, continuing to kiss you, again without missing a beat. “I love you, I love you.” His words become a sort of hum against your lips and the way his body moves to caress yours is so insistent that you can practically feel the weakening of your limbs as you succumb to his touch.

“Excuse me.” Hangman clears his throat.

“Not now, Seresin,” Bradley mutters without looking up.

“I – uh, I’d like to order a drink,” Hangman says, and you can hear the amusement in his tone.

Bradley’s hand slips off your hip and he extends his arm in Hangman’s direction, presumably giving him the finger.

“Manners, Rooster,” Hangman replies in a sing-song voice.

You chuckle against Bradley’s lips.

“Excuse me!” you hear Penny’s exclamation as she returns from the kitchen. “No patrons behind the bar!”

“Not now, Penny,” you say, your mouth still glued to Bradley’s.

You hear shuffling behind Bradley’s back and then Penny speaks again. “What can I get for you, Lieutenant?” she asks resignedly, although there is a hint of mirth in her tone as well.

Bradley continues making out with you while Penny pours, and he eventually kisses every square inch of your face as you giggle. Your eyes, your nose, your eyebrow, your other eyebrow.

When you finally detach yourself from him, saying that you should get back to work, Penny gives you a pointed look. “Right, like you could work right now,” she says. You glance at her sheepishly and she adds, “Get out of here, you crazy kids.”

With a broad grin, Bradley starts pulling on your arm without hesitation. As you pass by Hangman, he shakes his head and says, “Thank god we’re home because if I have to hear about how wonderful you are or how hot you look in a damn sundress one more time, I will lose my mind, Y/N.”

You laugh while Bradley shakes his head at Hangman, outraged that he is divulging classified information.

“I’m serious,” Hangman continues even as Bradley trains a critical glance in his direction. “What did the guy even talk about before the two of you got together?” he asks.

Bradley’s expression borders on threatening as he continues to shake his head.

“Oh yeah,” Hangman chuckles as Bradley tugs you after him toward the exit. “It was always you!” Hangman calls just as Bradley yanks on the door.

You press your lips together to keep from smiling too widely as Bradley shakes his head at Hangman, smirking. “Hey Hangman,” he calls.

“I know, I know,” Hangman responds, waving his hand distractedly. “I can go fuck myself.”

“Well, that, and... thanks for getting me home, Hangman,” Bradley says. “Back to my girl.”

You glance back to look at Hangman with a troubled expression, suddenly realizing how very easily you could lose the man who’s just proclaimed his love for you. Hangman gives Bradley a nod combined with a one-fingered salute.

The moment you and Bradley are outside, you wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your head into his chest.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” he asks.

“I love you,” you mutter into his chest. “I love you,” you repeat as he brings his arms behind your back. “I love you, I love you.”

He lets out a long sigh into your hair. “That’s a relief,” he responds and you chuckle slightly. “Because you’re all I ever think about,” he continues. “Just ask poor Hangman.”

Rooster Tag List:

The rest of the list is in the comments. Sorry if I've missed you!

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

@lonelywitchv2

@cashwheelersgirl89

@callsign-jupiter

@kindablackenedsuperhero

@everything-i-love-in-life

@malindacath

@rosiahills22

@wandering-wah

@olliepig

@m1llydins

@emilyniamh3679-blog

@footwatter

@books-for-summer

@harper1666

@coffeeaddictedmay

@diabeticgoth

@katiebby04

@problematic-420

@wishfulhope

@elizabitchsshit

@inarabee

@boringusername3

@zombiedixon89

@izz-ayes-world

@ratedtvpg

@mak-32

@sunnysofia

@a-nostalgic-disaster

@aaliyahjovel

@anyonehaveanyorangeslices

@bcon24

@lovemesomevesey

@daydreamingalways

@gerudolivinliv

@emilybradshaw

@olivethenerd16

@kaitlynw011

@l-rexter45

@xoxo-lyss

@beebslebobs

@dracosluvbot

@peoniarose

@annedub

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roosterbruiser · 1 year

Note

Hi, please could I request a super fluffy, adorable and sickeningly sweet blurb for Bradley Bradshaw??

Sweet Rooster has a ridiculously tight hold on my heart right now

🐓

𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐚 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

Rooster didn't realize how touch deprived he was until he met you. It's silly, really, because how could he not know? He was almost always alone and--more often than not--on a carrier in the middle of an ocean surrounded by testosterone. Maybe he didn't notice for so long because he didn't really care--or he thought he didn't care.

But then one night, only a month into what would become a very serious relationship, he was blinking himself awake as the two of you tried to get through Kill Bill: Volume 2 for the third time that week. He couldn't help that he was so tired, really. He got up at the crack of fucking dawn (which you thought was endlessly funny given his call-sign) and pushed his body to its limit all day on base in the hot sun. You didn't mind, really, and only teased him lightly about it. He obviously wanted to spend time with you, which was why you were sitting in his dark living room despite his desire to just sleep.

You're pretending not to notice him blinking himself awake and his big, brown eyes that are cartoonishly drooping. He's slumped over on the couch with his arm wrapped lazily around your waist.

In the middle of the movie, just after he dozes off for the third time, you turn to look at him. He's so dazed with exhaustion that he doesn't even feel your gaze, his thumb stroking long and complete circles over your bicep in a repetition that is surely aiding in lulling him to sleep.

"Roos," you whisper.

He slowly turns to look at you, raising his eyebrows, giving you a pathetic excuse of a smile. For a moment, he's worried you're mad at him. He really doesn't want to give you the wrong impression by watching the same movie three times in one week because he keeps fucking falling asleep while you're here. But when he sees your face, partly made up of shadows and partly made up of the flashing TV lights, he sees how open and gentle you look. Your eyes are soft and wide, lips tugging upwards, eyebrows blanched. You're not mad at all and he knows that immediately.

"M'so sorry," he says despite knowing you're not angry. He still wants to kick himself for not being able to just stay the fuck awake. "I really want you to know that I like you so much--like so, so, so much and you aren't, like, boring me or anything it's just that--!"

You don't know exactly why you do it, but you're glad you do. You have delicately tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and it has rendered him entirely speechless--sentence coming to a screeching halt. It literally takes his breath away when you begin to very lightly scratch his scalp.

"Found your off button," you whisper, a grin creeping up your lips.

He wants to say something back, something witty and sharp, but he is so overcome with the desire to lean into your touch that he can do nothing but. His head grows heavy in your hands and you accept it with grace, laughing softly. It's a laugh that tells him for once in his life, he shouldn't be worried about imposing himself on others. He should just let you play with his hair.

"That's...that's real nice," he whispers finally, his voice thin.

You love seeing him like this: his lips parted, his eyes slipped shut, his Adam's apple bobbing thickly, his eyebrows pinched just so. He looks even more beautiful to you now than he did before--and it's because he's letting you get closer to him.

"Why don't you lay on my lap?"

Any other time, he'd have some sort of retort. But he just complies in silence, reeling at the loss of contact when you situate yourself so your lap is open and free for his head to lay upon.

But just before he lays down, a fear grips every nerve in his body. He hasn't laid on anyone's lap in years--fuck, he can't even remember the last time he laid in anyone's lap. Surely it was his mother's all those years ago--before she got sick, before he grew up, maybe even before his dad died. He feels, suddenly, like he's giving into something he didn't even know was tugging him.

But then he sees your eyes gleaming in the dim light. And maybe it's because you have the most beautiful face he's ever seen and maybe it's because he's lonely and maybe it's because he really does likely and maybe it's because he's so dead-tired, but as soon as you nod towards your lap, he complies.

Really, it's the closest you two have been before. You've had your fair share of over-the-shoulder cuddles and some polite goodnight hugs and quick kisses. But this--his cheek pressed against your thighs with one of your hands tangled in his hair and the other laying peacefully in the middle of his back--it's the most intimate thing you've done.

"People could pay you to do this," he mumbles, slurring against the material of your yoga pants.

You have to bite a grin as you gaze down at his profile; his features have all gone slack and you know he's on borrowed time now, slipping easily and restfully into dreamland.

"First one's on the house," you mumble, delicately outlining the scar across his throat. His long eyelashes flutter against his smooth skin and his mustache twitches very lightly when his mouth parts. "You're a very beautiful man, Bradley."

Heat gathers in his cheeks. You've rendered him speechless again.

In response, he wraps his arm around your leg, the one he's laying on. The crook of his elbow rests flush against the backside of your knee and he draws a careful line down the line of your calf. And then, very gently and with quivering lips, he turns and presses a lingering kiss to the inside of your knee.

And that's when you know. Really, that's when you both know: you're it for each other. Everyone else can go home.

here is my tag list!!

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬! 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐛!

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birdy-bat-writes · 1 year

Text

Me and my bestie coming out of the exam, having no clue what we just read or answered.

#top gun hangman #top gun rooster #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw top gun #Bradley Bradshaw #hangman seresin #Jake Seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun #top gun maverick #maverick #Glen Powell #miles teller

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planetpiastri · 1 year

Note

do you know that I would be so honest to god grateful if you did the comparing hand size prompt w roosty? i just am already jaw dropped thinking about it

this blurb is brought to u by this lovely req + me watching fant4stic way too late at night bc i was in a miles mood. enjoy anon<33 | [wc - 1k]

Bradley’s arm around your shoulders was heavy and comforting, and it was all you could do to keep your eyes open and focused on the television screen. You could hear the others chatting in the kitchen, and you were pretty sure that someone had turned on the grill outside. Was that bacon sizzling you smelled?

All in all, it was a pretty normal kickback at Hangman’s.

The movie you were watching wasn’t even particularly good; it was yet another low-budget Fantastic Four remake. Fanboy had turned it on, promising everyone would be amused if not at least entertained, and fifteen minutes in he and everyone else had promptly gotten up and stopped watching. The only ones left were you and Bradley, curled up together on the couch—and you’d only stayed because to get up would be to abandon extreme comfort.

“Hey, that guy kinda looks like you,” you mumbled, squinting at the screen.

Bradley snorted, and the sound reverberated through you from the place where your back was pressed to his chest. “I don’t see it.”

“Who’s hungry?” called Payback, coming in from the back porch with Fanboy following behind. They both carried big plates that confirmed that, yes, it had been bacon you’d been smelling.

Everyone immediately swarmed the two, oohing and aahing.

“Nothing excites drunk people more than bacon,” you mumbled.

“Why is that guy made of rocks?” Bradley said.

“Get me some bacon,” you said, swatting at his arm.

“Like, why wouldn’t he just get the ability to grow rocks? Or harden his skin? Why does he have to be made of rocks?”

“Bradley!” you said, laughing and jostling him. “Bradley, bacon!”

“Okay, okay. Move.”

You shifted upright long enough for him to disentangle himself from you and stand up. Then you flopped back down onto the cushions, appreciating the leftover warmth his body had left. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, burrowing your nose into the soft fabric and breathing in deeply. It smelled mostly like Hangman and the aftershave he swore by, but there, buried in the fibers—Bradley’s cologne.

God, you loved that smell. It smelled like home.

“What is the deal with you two?” said Fanboy, sitting down at the end of the couch so suddenly that you yelped in alarm.

“Mickey!” you gasped, pulling your feet out from under him. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Bacon!” he replied, like that was a normal place to go during a party. “How’s the movie? Hilarious, right?”

“It’s definitely something.”

“Are you gonna answer my question?”

Your cheeks burned, and you pulled the blanket up to your nose, hoping Fanboy wouldn’t be able to pick up on your nerves. “What are you talking about?”

“You know,” he said, gesturing with a stray piece of bacon, “the deal. The carpooling, the cuddling, the sleepovers. I’ve never seen Bradley so… happy,” he said finally. He took a bite of bacon, chewing thoughtfully. “None of us have.”

You really didn’t know what to say to that. You’d never considered that there might be more to your relationship with Bradley. He was your best friend, and that was as far as you’d gotten. You’d met him fresh off a new heartbreak, and you hadn’t been eager to throw yourself towards another one. You knew him well enough to know that heartbreak was the most realistic outcome if you did get yourself involved, so you stayed away from any feelings like that, and you stayed friends.

And you were fine with that. You were happy with that.

So why the hell did Fanboy have to go and say something lovely like that and throw you off?

“Okay, budge up,” said Bradley, stepping back around the coffee table and waiting for you to sit up so that he could position himself behind you again. Once you’d settled back into his lap, he handed you a napkin delicately folded over three warm slices of bacon.

You weren’t really hungry anymore, but you didn’t want Bradley to think Fanboy had been saying anything weird, so you picked one up and took a dainty nibble.

“What the hell happened?” Bradley said, staring at the screen. “I was gone five seconds, how are they on a different planet?”

“Isn’t that the greatest part?” said Fanboy. “I was here for the last few minutes, and I don’t even know!”

“You’re not eating your bacon,” Bradley told you.

Embarrassed warmth flooded you. “I am!” you said defensively, taking a bite to prove it. “Thank you very much for getting it for me.”

“This movie completely wastes Michael B. Jordan,” said Fanboy to nobody in particular.

“You’re still not eating it,” said Bradley. “I thought you liked the crispier pieces.”

“I do!” you protested, but it was no use. Bradley was already pulling your napkin out of your hand and giving you his instead, with his juicier, fattier slices of bacon.

Then his hands stilled over yours and he said, “Have your hands always been this small and I just never noticed?”

You smiled in spite of yourself. “They are not small.”

“They’re tiny,” he insisted, setting both napkins of bacon down on the coffee table.

“They’re not!” you argued, holding them up to the light. “They are normal, proportional, human-sized hands!”

Bradley’s arm around your shoulders rose up, and one hand traced the inside of your wrist briefly. Goosebumps erupted down your arms, and you were thankful you’d decided to wear long sleeves. Then he pressed his palm flat to yours, turning it this way and that in the light, seemingly assessing whether your hands were as pitifully minuscule as he seemed to suspect.

“See,” you said, your voice sounding far away even to yourself. “Normal sized hands.”

“Hmm,” said Bradley. Then he shifted his palm by the slightest margin and pushed his fingers forward, lacing your hands together.

Electricity jolted through you, and you were sure he could feel your heart pounding. At the other end of the couch, Fanboy was staring at the tv so hard that he couldn’t have actually been paying attention.

“Yep,” Bradley said decisively. “The perfect size, I’d say.”

“You doofus,” you said, pleased warmth flooding your body. But you tucked his hand against your chest and curled against him, and you felt pretty happy to be watching a terrible movie on the couch of a party with this lovely man.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw top gun #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfic #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster imagine #rooster fluff #rooster fic #vinny's valentine's prompt party #vinny fics

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fandomxpreferences · 1 year

Text

I Trusted You (Part 2 of Traitor)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Epilogue

Pairing: ex!Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x female!reader, Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female!reader

TW:swearing, violence, angst, mention of blood, Bradley being a certified asshole

Summary: You finally confront Bradley and Natasha.

Word Count:1.6k

Throughout his day at work, Jake got dirty looks from all of his teammates after what they witnessed at the bar. As far as they know, you cheated on Bradley right in front of his face and they’re livid.

Everyone except Bob is in the dark about the reality of the situation. He picked up on the change in Bradley and Natasha's behavior immediately and put the puzzle pieces together.

You hear a knock at your door and open it to find Jake grinning on your doorstep. You open the door a little wider to let him in and he immediately pulls you into his arms.

“Hey there, sweets. How was your day?” He asks and you huff.

“You mean besides the influx of angry texts asking what the hell is going on? Peachy.”

Jake frowns slightly at this and pulls you to sit on the couch next to him. The two of you aren’t anything official, you need to heal and work on yourself before jumping into anything. Jake understands this and it's nice to be in his company without feeling any pressure or expectations.

You still haven’t spoken to Bradley or Natasha and you don’t really plan on doing so. There’s nothing to say to them. They made their choice, and now you made yours. What else could possibly need to be discussed?

Jake can sense your sour mood and tries to take your mind off of it. “Why don’t we go out tonight?” He offers and you rub your hand down your face.

“You mean to the place where everyone that wants to cuss me out will be? That doesn’t really sound like a good time.” You chuckle humorlessly. “I’m still covered in hickeys, for fucks sake.”

Jake nods thoughtfully and shrugs. “They didn’t have any shame. Why should we?” He retorts and you have to admit it's a good point.

You ponder for a few seconds before agreeing. “Okay, let's go. But if it gets uncomfortable or someone tries to say something we’re leaving.”

Jake smiles and stands to pull you to your feet. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

When you enter the Hard Deck together you immediately feel everyone's eyes glued to you. Jake walks the two of you up to the group as if it's any other day and you silently take a seat at a booth.

It's peaceful for a few minutes aside from the daggers Bradley is sending your way, but it's short-lived. Maverick walks up and you brace for the confrontation. He’s been like a father to you and you’re well aware that he disapproves of how you’re handling the situation.

“You know, Y/N, I never would’ve taken you as the type to cheat. Especially with one of your boyfriend's teammates. He really loved you.” His tone isn’t angry but rather disappointed and you look up at him with furrowed brows.

“He loved me? Could’ve fooled me. Did you give the same spiel to Bradley? I think he deserves it more than I do.” You say and Maverick raises his eyebrows.

“What do you mean? You're the one who stepped out.” He questions and you feel fury flood your nervous system.

“Is that what he told you?” You bite and your hardened gaze shoots to Bradley. He looks smug and against your better judgment you stand and walk toward him.

You see his shoulders stiffen when he notices you stomping toward him and by the time you reach him, smoke is practically coming out of your ears. Everyone watches silently, waiting to see the impending explosion. But much to their surprise, it's you who starts shouting instead of Bradley.

“Is that what you fucking told everybody? That I'm some whore that fucked your teammate just to watch the world burn?” You bark and Bradley shifts uncomfortably.

You hear Fanboy speak up and turn your head slightly to look at him. “Is that not what happened?” He asks and you laugh.

“Why don’t you tell them what actually happened, Bradley? Or better yet, how about you Natasha.” The woman’s face blanches at the mention of her name and when neither of them makes a move to respond you speak for them.

“What happened is Natasha and Bradley fucked after the uranium mission and then lied about it for weeks.” You snap and everyone's eyes go wide.

“That doesn’t mean that you can just fuck Jake!” Bradley exclaims and your head snaps to look at him.

“I can fuck your whole goddamn squadron if I want to, Bradley! You lost the right to have any say in what I do when you stuck your dick into my best friend!” You're full-on yelling now and the rest of the bar has stopped to watch the train wreck unfolding.

“You need to calm down, Y/N. Maybe we should all step out.” Phoenix suggests, attempting to diffuse the situation. Your eyes are practically black now, only a thin ring of your iris poking out from behind your pupils.

“You need to shut the fuck up, Natasha!” You growl. “Actually, maybe we should take this outside.” You’re blinded by rage and any possibility of keeping this civil has long left the building.

Bradley reaches out for you and Jake is quick to step in front of you to block the attempt. “Don’t touch her.” He warns and your ex-boyfriend scoffs.

“What are you? Her bodyguard?” He quips and Jake's lips curl up into a snarl.

“Somebody has to protect her. Clearly, you’re too busy sleeping around to do that.” He boasts and Bradley's face turns red.

Phoenix places her hand gently on his arm and lowers her voice. “We should go. This isn’t worth it.” She mumbles but you hear her loud and clear. Your vision goes red and you lurch forward to smack her hand away from him.

“Two years of my life down the drain isn’t worth it? Two years of us being best friends? Are you fucking kidding me, Nat?” Your voice is significantly quieter now but holds the same anger and power as before.

Normally you wouldn’t blame the woman in this situation. It's the man's responsibility to be loyal, not hers. But this is a whole other level of betrayal. This isn't just someone random, this is your best friend who comforted you as you cried to her about how distant Bradley had become.

The woman that told you there was nothing to worry about when she was half the reason for your tears to begin with. No, this is deeply personal and she’s trying to act like she didn’t help rip your life apart.

“I trusted you! I cried to you about him and you told me I was overreacting and looking to start a fight!” Your voice cracks and it only pisses you off more. She stares at you silently and you act before you can think.

“How’s this for starting a fight?” You seethe and your fist connects with her nose. She stumbles backward as blood starts pouring and everyone collectively gasps.

Bradley rushes to her aid and looks back at you with bewilderment. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?” He yells and your mouth drops open. Maybe hitting her wasn't the best choice, but it was most certainly deserved.

Coyote, Fanboy, and Payback cross over to stand behind you, a silent announcement on their stance in the situation. Maverick and Bob watch helplessly, caught in the middle and unsure what to do. They don’t say anything, knowing that your behavior is completely justified but also not wanting to take sides.

“Two years together and you’re defending her?” You stutter and Jake feels his heart break at the pain in your voice. You look between them for a second and realization dawns on you.

“Oh my god.” You whisper. “You’re still sleeping together aren’t you?” Bradley's face drops and you have your answer.

“Only since you and Jake.” He tries to explain while taking a step toward you.

“One more step and I swear to god I will knock your teeth down your throat.” Jake threatens while shoving the man backward.

“You’ll never be more than a quick fuck to her, Bagman. Why don’t you put the bravado away?” He smirks and in a split second Jake’s fist connects with his eye. Bradley lurches toward the man but is stopped by a hand on his chest.

“Okay,” Mav steps in. “That’s enough. Bradley and Natasha, I think you should leave.” Bradley’s eyes go wide and he stammers.

“But Mav she-“ he’s cut off by the older man with a firm look.

“No, Bradley. It doesn’t matter what she did, you started it. You made your bed now lie in it. You’re like my son which is exactly why I won’t let this slide. You’re wrong, Bradley.” His tone is harsh and Bradley stares at him for a few seconds before turning on his heel and leaving with Natasha following closely.

He watches them leave before turning to face you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t recognize that man, Carol raised him better than that.”

You grab his hand and squeeze it lightly while giving him a gentle smile. “It’s not your fault, Mav. Thank you for defending me.”

The two of you share a look and Jake comes up next to you with an ice pack. “Here darlin’. Put that on your hand.” He offers and you take it gratefully. You take a seat with the rest of the squad and Coyote glances between you and Jake.

“So are you two a thing now?” He inquires and you take a deep breath.

“Right now, no. I have a lot of healing to do, but never say never.” You smile and Jake squeezes your thigh under the table. He’ll wait as long as he has to if it means getting you in the end.

Taglist:

@drakelover78 @manyfandomsfanvergent @ssprayberrythings @disturbedbeautywrites @desert-fern @one-sweet-gubler @callmemana @luckyladycreator2 @bookchik26 @taytaylala12 @michalkasimp @xoxabs88xox @loveless-simp @withakindheartx @formulapierre @ccristata @shanimallina87 @chair-things @k-k0129 @izz-ayes-world @kajjaka @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @phantomxoxo @rosiahills22 @gspenc @chair-things @benhardysdrumstick

#jake seresin #jake seresin fic #hangman top gun #Jake Seresin top gun #Jake Seresin protective #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw x female reader #Jake Seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw top gun #top gun imagine #top gun angst #top gun maverick #rooster imagine #rooster x reader

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mads-weasley · 2 years

Text

Proudest Husband Award

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Wife!Reader

Summary: (Y/n) receives an award at a Navy Awards Banquet, and Bradley can't help but tell everyone how much she deserves it.

(y/n) - your name

jayhawk - your callsign

The Bradshaws were so excited for the ANA, or the Association of Naval Aviators, annual awards banquet that night. A few months beforehand, Bradley got a letter asking if he would present one of the awards at the ceremony. When (y/n) saw who it was from, she ran into their bedroom holding it up.

"Guess who this is from?" she asked with a bright smile.

Bradley was in the middle of changing shirts when she burst into the room. Pulling the shirt off his head, he walked over to her, eyes squinting as he grimaced. "Your parents? I don't know. Who?"

She held it up in front of his face. "The ANA!!"

Eyes widening, he grabbed the letter from her hands and opened it. As he scanned the page, his heart pounded. 'She got it,' he thought. 'She has to get it.'

When he finally read the words he had been waiting 6 months to read, a huge smile formed on his face.

(Y/n) was buzzing with anticipation. "What does it say, Roost?"

"Congratulations," he read, "You have been selected to present the ANA Fleet Support and Special Mission Award to this year's recipient." He stopped there, not wanting to spoil the surprise.

She engulfed him in a hug, rubbing his bare back. "Aww, that's amazing, babe! I'm proud of you."

Returning the hug, he quickly placed the letter in the back pocket of his jeans. "I love you, Jayhawk." He whispered.

She planted a kiss on his cheek, sighing. "I love you, too, Rooster."

Today was the day of the banquet, and Bradley couldn't wait. He was counting down the hours until he got to get up on that stage and give (y/n) the award she very much deserved after their special mission that called the couple back to Top Gun. During the mission, her spotter couldn't get the laser to work, so she had to eyeball it. With her expertise, she easily hit the target, successfully completing the mission objective. That's not what made her performance award-worthy, though.

When she climbed over the mountain and into coffin corner, she eventually self-sacrificed herself saving Bradley and their infamous Captain, Pete Mitchell, from being shot down. Her F-18 was hit by a SAM and went down hard. She was able to eject in time but suffered injuries to her shoulder and leg from the crash. Somehow, she made it to the enemy's bombed airbase and stole an F-14 fighter. Then, she made it back to the carrier and back into the safety of Bradley's arms.

So when he heard about the Special Mission Award, he knew who he was going to nominate. Keeping it a secret, he completed the application form and got Mav to sign it, as he was their commanding officer during the mission.

(Y/n) was sat at the vanity, curling her hair in their bedroom when she heard the sweet, yet goofy voice of her husband singing “Great Balls of Fire” in the shower. Laughing, she continued to get ready as she listened to him sing his heart out. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened, and (y/n) had to stop herself from drooling at the sight of Bradley with only a towel tied around his waist.

He noticed her staring, and smirked, walking towards her. “Like what you see, Bradshaw?”

“What makes you say that?” She asked, turning away from him to look back in the mirror, fixing her earrings. “I liked your singing, though.”

Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he nuzzled his head into her neck. “Why thank you.”

(Y/n) checked her phone quickly before sighing. “As much as I would love to stay like this with you all night, we have to get going soon, Roost.”

Pulling away slightly, he kissed her temple lovingly. “I know. Me too. Tonight is going to be great, though. And can I say, you already look mighty fine, sweetheart.”

She got up and turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And you, Mr. Bradshaw, are looking smoking hot. Even hotter than those balls of fire you love to sing about, hun.”

“Oh really?” He asked, pulling her flush again him.

“Yes sir.”

“Would you like to see some other great ba-”

“Bradley Bradshaw!” She interrupted, hitting his chest playfully.

He just laughed in response, leaning down and pecking her lips. Sitting back down in front of the vanity, she continued to get ready, sneaking glances of Bradley getting dressed in the mirror.

“I can feel you staring.” He announced, still facing away from her.

(Y/n) snickered. “Am I not allowed to? I am your wife after all.”

Turning her way with his signature smirk, he finished buttoning up his sleek dress blues. “Well, wife, now it's my turn to watch.”

Before he could step in her way, she snatched her dress blues off the bed and bolted to the bathroom, laughing and locking the door behind her. "Not this time!" With a laugh, he shook his head and continued to get ready as she changed in the bathroom.

About 10 minutes later Rooster checked his watch. It was already 5:20 pm and they needed to leave in the next ten minutes to get there on time. He knocked on the door gently.

"Hey, babe. We need to leave in a few. I'm sure you look amazing."

Getting no response, his brows furrowed. "(Y/n)? Are you okay?"

Nothing.

He quickly rummaged through their nightstand to find a key. Unlocking the door, he saw her standing in front of the mirror in her bra, eyes not moving from the jagged scar on her shoulder.

He slowly approached her, speaking softly. "Hey, sweetheart. You okay?"

“It’s been almost a year since…” she trailed off, finally tearing her eyes off the scar and to her husband.

Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders, running his thumb over the spot. “I know. I was so scared. I thought I’d lost you.”

Still in his arms, (y/n) turned to face him with teary eyes. “I was terrified, Brad. The only thing that kept me going was the fact that you were safe.”

He hugged her tight, keeping his own tears at bay. “I love you more than anything, (y/n). You make me so proud.”

Separating, she sniffled quietly. “I’m gonna get dressed.”

Bradley’s eyes softened as he looked at the state of his wife.“Let me help.”

“Okay.” She whispered.

He helped her slide her arms into her blouse and then dress blue jacket, placing a soft kiss on her scarred shoulder. After she finished getting ready, the couple set out in Bradley’s Bronco for the banquet.

The couple parked and began walking to the entrance hand in hand, taking a deep breath in front of the doors.

“You ready, Lieutenant Bradshaw?” He asked.

“Yes sir, Captain Bradshaw.”

As (y/n) was talking to another female lieutenant, Bradley took a sip of his drink and nervously checked his watch. 7:25. Award presentations were supposed to start at 7:30 on the dot. Even though (y/n)’s award was one of the last ones, he was getting more and more nervous.

He leaned down to her ear. “I’m going to use the restroom. I’ll meet you at our table.”

As he turned, (y/n) grabbed his hand, leaning and kissing his cheek. “I love you. Don’t be nervous. You’ve got this, hun.”

“Love you, too.”

When he got into the bathroom, he pulled out his speech and looked into the mirror. “Good evening. My name is Captain Bradley Bradshaw, and it is an honor to be amo-”

“Kid, you’re going to do fine.” A voice interrupted.

Whipping around, Bradley’s eyes widened at the man coming out of the bathroom stall.

“Mav. I’m gonna crash and burn.”

The older man just laughed. “The only thing you need to remember is that all this is for (y/n) and what she’s accomplished. You know her, Rooster, she won’t care about some speech.”

Sighing, Bradley placed the paper back into his pocket. “I know. I just want to make the night perfect for her. We both know how much she deserves it.”

"Yes, we do." He motioned towards the door, "Come on, they're about to start."

With every speech and award that went by, Bradley became more nervous. His leg was bouncing under the table with anxiety as the speech before his started. Sensing his worry, (y/n) placed a hand on his thigh, effectively calming him down. He looked over at her briefly and was mesmerized by his sheer admiration for her.

Before he knew it, it was his turn. (Y/n) squeezed his hand with a small smile as he got up and walked towards the podium.

"Good evening," he began, "My name is Captain Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and it is truly an honor to be among the company of such amazing aviators."

(Y/n) looked at him with such pride as he glanced at her before continuing the speech.

“The recipient of this year’s award is one of the most talented pilots I have ever known. Their skills in the cockpit, as well as on the ground have made them a very valuable asset and member of the Navy.”

Rooster couldn’t look at his wife for more than 3 seconds at a time because he got ten times more nervous when he did. Mav sensed this, nodding when Bradley looked over at him.

“This award recognizes a naval aviator that has gone above and beyond the call of duty on fleet support or a special mission. As soon as I heard about this award, one name instantly came to mind.”

Now, Rooster could look (y/n) in the eye as the cat was about to be let out of the bag.

“This pilot completed and was injured a special mission that was of utmost importance to the safety of the country we serve to protect. Due to the classified nature of the mission, I cannot give details, but what I can give you is who this recipient is outside the cockpit.”

Confused was an understatement. (Y/n) thought hard about who the recipient could be and how Bradley knew them so well.

"This pilot is the most selfless person I have ever known and is the first to arrive and the last to leave the base, regardless if she feels like it. Her fiery, yet loving personality draws everyone towards her without her even realizing it. With just a smile, she can brighten a room. She certainly changed my life the second she walked into it, and I don't know where I'd be without her."

Everything clicked in (y/n)'s mind. Her. He was talking about her. Eyes tearing up, she placed her shaking hands over her mouth. Bradley looked over at her with a sweet smile as he paused his speech for a few seconds. He continues, not breaking eye contact.

"She's my best friend, and I love her with everything inside me," he started, clearing his throat, which seemed to close up. "I am beyond proud to present this year's Association of Naval Aviators Fleet Support and Special Mission Award to my wife, Lt. (Y/n) "Jayhawk" Bradshaw."

With a sheepish smile, (y/n) rose from her seat and made her way to the stage. Bradley pulled her into his warm embrace as he whispered into her hair.

"I'm so proud of you. I love you, so much."

Pulling away, he kissed her temple and handed her the award. They both had the sweetest smiles, sharing a moment as the audience applauded.

(Y/n) stepped up to the podium, looking back at Bradley, who nodded softly.

"I'm not going to lie, I had no idea this was coming. I just thought we were here because Bradley was going to present this award." She briefly glanced back at him. "I just want to thank everyone that has helped me get where I am today. My fellow pilots, instructors, family, and friends. But most of all, I want to thank my amazing husband for always believing in me and being my biggest supporter."

As she turned, continuing the speech, Bradley was watching from the corner of the stage with so much pride, that he thought his heart might burst. (Y/n) had struggled physically and mentally the past year since the mission, so seeing her comfortable in her element again brought tears to his eyes. He was brought back to the moment by applause. Walking off the stage, (y/n) took his hand as they returned to their seats.

When the couple returned home, (y/n) still couldn't believe she had gotten the award. She sat in their bedroom, wiping off her makeup as she called out to Bradley.

"I still can't believe you kept this secret for so long, babe."

He walked into the room in his pajama pants and t-shirt. "It was super hard, but the look on your face was one hundred percent worth it."

Sighing, she turned to him. "Thank you. I'd be lost without you, Brad."

"It's definitely the other way around, but I just wanted you to get recognized for all you've persevered through."

(Y/n) and Rooster climbed into bed a few minutes later, Bradley tucking her into his side. She peered up at him, truly taking the sight in: the scar on his cheek from a car accident when he was a teenager, his soft brown eyes, lips, and even the mustache.

"I love you." She whispered, placing her hand on his cheek.

He smiled softly, leaning down towards her, eyes drifting to her lips. "I love you more than anything, sweetheart. I should get the "Proudest Husband Award" after tonight. We should def-"

"Shut up and kiss me."

"Yes, ma'am." He answered, bridging the already small gap between them as he connected their lips. Her hands moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Pulling away slightly, (y/n) smiled up at him and pecked his lips one more time before laying back down on his chest.

"Goodnight, Rooster." she cooed.

She could hear the smile in his voice as he kissed her hair, whispering, "Goodnight, Jayhawk."

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thepaperpanda · 2 years

Text

𝓓𝓪𝔂 15 - A Bit Late For Work || Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: In most cases, it's you who makes Bradley late to work, except when his mission is to make you feel relaxed following a stressful day.

Warnings: smut (oral - f receiving)

Word count: 1510

Author: Rouge

A/N: the prompt for today is: Oral Sex

You threw your car keys on the kitchen table and sighed loudly as you opened the refrigerator.

Bradley raised an eyebrow at you as he lowered the newspaper, tipping his glasses in the process.

You had no idea why he wore them. And yet, that small glint off the end when he was staring down at you from between his legs, ah. You shook off the thought, retrieved a water bottle, and sat at the table next to your boyfriend. The idea was nice, but you knew Rooster had work soon, and while you were normally very willing to make him late, you couldn't work up your usual libido.

Bradley could tell something was bothering his lover, and he tilted his head as you sat next to him. He set the paper down, removing his glasses as well, and placing them in his shirt pocket. "Would you like to talk about it?"

You shook your head. "Not particularly," you shrugged, taking a swig from the bottle. "You usually feel better when you do," he pointed out.

It was a valid point he made. Nevertheless, you decided it wasn't worth mentioning how much you wanted to change career paths again. All the time you bragged about not being completely satisfied with what you were doing but felt that it was too late to change anything. Even so, you didn't want to go to university any more, and felt like dropping your engineering studies. Your new goal was to become an artist. You were proficient at it too, about as good as you were at university, but pursuing it seemed like a dead dream.

Bradshaw watched you turn your head over. He waited for you to collect your thoughts, and eventually, once you had, he watched you sigh and shrug once more.

"Same thoughts as always, I'm tired of everything."

"You're doing a rather great job with your studies," Bradley pointed out.

You shot him a glare. "Sorry, sorry. I know."

You groaned, cocking your eyebrow.

“It’s about a lifestyle, my bad,” he corrected himself, sending you a soft grin.

"Close enough," you mumbled. But he wasn't wrong this time either. You sighed again, took another swig of water, and then put your forehead down on the table. "Maybe I'm just tired of it, I don't know. I don't feel sick of it though, I love learning and making friends. Maybe I just need a break?"

In response to your words, Bradley slowly rose and walked over to stand behind you. When he reached down, he gently pulled you by your shoulders until you were sitting up straight. He worked at the knots that had inevitably formed there by rubbing his fingers gingerly into the flesh of yours. "You think too much," he remarked with a low chuckle, being a little rougher about the massage. But you could handle it. In fact, Rooster knew just how much his little baby girl could truly handle.

The thought went straight to his groin, and he suddenly had an idea.

As you leaned into his touch, you teased, "Maybe you think too little."

While you didn't expect the massage to last much longer, you were grateful that Rooster remembered little gestures of kindness so often, especially after the self-doubt you had been dealing with.

When you suddenly felt his lips on your neck, you let out a quiet moan. You grinned a bit at the warmth of his mouth, but you weren't about to complain. If he had something a little more involved than the massage in mind, you weren't going to stop him obviously.

As his fingers slipped from over your shirt to under it, he stretched the collar just a bit so he was gripping mostly flesh. Like warming oil, his touch bit pleasantly into your shoulders and throughout your body. When you felt Rooster's hand reach down to your breast, you sighed and tensed slightly. He paused there for a moment, and when you leaned into his touch, he reached further down, cupping your entire breast in his hand. Your breath caught in Bradley's ears, and he grinned wider. The beast that resided within his heart loved being able to please you like this.

Putting one hand on your breast, he slipped his fingers under the lacy fabric of your bra and squeezed your nipple sharply. In response to your breath catching again, he stopped massaging your shoulder with his left hand. In addition, he squeezed your soft nipple and traced his hand down your shoulder blade. Your nipple was squeezed again, causing you to moan, and then he rubbed your shoulder blade with his fingers. The two sensations made a louder moan fall from your lips, and you gripped the chair you were sitting in tightly to keep steady. As his voice filled with hellish lust, Rooster commanded, "Touch yourself." His eyes had changed to all-black; the influence you had on him was indescribable.

The fact that you listened nearly without hesitation made Bradley harder than he thought possible. But he was content to please you this time. After all, you needed the stress relief. He watched through his darkened eyes as your right hand reached between your legs, rubbing lightly before undoing your pants, and pushing them down. Then you reached into your lacy white panties and began moving your hand to the same rhythm Bradley was squeezing your nipple and rubbing your shoulders.

You let out a louder moan as all three sensations collided in the pit of your stomach. Rooster began to move faster, and so did you, until you began to feel your orgasm build. You tensed then, letting out several sharp moans as you came, back arched.

After a few moments, you relaxed, sinking into the chair. You were about to say something, but Rooster was suddenly in front of you, hands on either side of the chair. You felt a shiver of anticipation roll down your spine when you looked into his darkened eyes, and then he was kissing you deeply. You wrapped your arms around him, but the kiss was cut short as Bradley moved to grab your thighs and pull you to him. You giggled a bit, then moaned when you felt his lips clasp onto your nipple.

After a few seconds of teasing, Rooster trailed his lips languidly down your body, and then all the way down between your legs. He grinned as he touched your wet panties and pressed his fingers against your pussy, causing you to moan lightly again. "Take these off,” he demanded within a dark voice of his.

You did as you were told, quickly slipping off the lacy panties.

Shortly after, he wrapped your legs around his shoulders. In one swift movement, Bradley's tongue was pressed against you, causing you to cry out in pleasure as you gripped the chair. He grinned against your wetness and moved the tip of his tongue in little circles across your clit. You were already shivering, and soon as he kissed and licked and began sucking on your clit, he reached under his chin, and easily slipped two fingers into your needy pussy. Having his fingers strangle you properly, your pussy immediately engulfed his digits in its juice, causing you to moan in a low tone. To make your head spin, Rooster pressed his whole tongue to your clit and slowly moved it up and down, eventually reaching your entrance as he briefly spat on the fingers he pulled halfway out of your pussy, just to make them wetter than before. Soon, his digits returned to your pussy, and he curled them deep inside of you, massaging your very sensitive spot.

"Fuck!" You cried, pushing into him as he slowly began to pump his fingers. You moaned again, reaching one hand up to grip onto his hair as you felt another orgasm about to overtake your body. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You cut yourself off and rolled your head back as a loud moan fell from your chest. Your legs tightened around his head as your orgasm hit, your legs shaking, your chest heaving.

Bradley held on for the ride, grinning wickedly as you came right into his mouth. He moaned too, rock hard and lustful, but satisfied in your pleasure. He leaned up after allowing you a few moments to breathe.

You sighed contentedly into the kiss, and then Rooster was pulling away, grin wide, eyes back to the normal color you were so fond of. He looked so wicked with the expression his face held though.

You smiled all the same before looking at the clock on the wall. "You're going to be late, Rooster."

"Fuck," Bradshaw hissed, then laughed, running around to collect his things before heading out. Then he turned, as if recalling something, and was surprised to see you standing in the doorway waiting for him. After you tapped your lips briefly with your index finger, he smiled and kissed you again. "Right."

As your boyfriend ran out, you yelled, "Don't forget your meeting with Mitchell today!"

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ohtobeleah · 10 months

Text

California Fornication //

One — ‘That was Jake’

Summary: When the man you’d been seeing turned out to have a wife, your world came crashing down around you. While you tried your best to move onwards and upwards, the very reason for all your recent relationship problems comes strolling into the bar.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating. Love Triangle x2. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Jake Seresin xF!reader. Question ing Morality. Angst.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author Note: Based off the first scene Mark Sloan is in. Greys Anatomy.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It always plays on repeat in your mind like a slow motion picture, like a scene in one of those old timey movies where everyone and everything slows down so that the main protagonist can understand the situation unfolding around them.

That moment where your boyfriend of only a few months— Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, told you that he was technically married, haunted you day in and day out. Married to the woman who’d come up to the pair of you in the locker room on base after she’d been transferred to North Island. She’d come waltzing over with a confident smile and a pretty face. She knew she was about to turn your life on its axis.

For better or worse.

“Y/n.” It wasn’t often people actually said your name, majority of the same it was your callsign—but the way the colour drained from Bradleys face as he turned to you with a gut wrenching look smeared across his usually perfect face, had your stomach churning. “I’m so sorry—“

“Hi, I’m Katie Bradshaw—“ The woman, who mind you, was stunning to say the very least, stuck her hand out to shake yours. You took it gracefully, with enough conviction in your grip to not have it show you were completely blindsided by that all too familiar last name.

“Bradshaw?” You smiled softly as you sent Rooster a confusing look. He’d never mentioned a sister or a cousin before in the few months you’d been seeing and sleeping together.

“I’m Rooster's wife—“ Those three words would forever haunt you. “And you must be the woman who’s been screwing my husband?”

“Hey! Siren!” It was Phoenix’s voice that broke you out of the trance you’d fallen into as you showed. Her fist slamming against the shower door three quick and consecutive times made you jump a little as the warm water encapsulated you entirely. “You coming to the Hard Deck?”

“Yeah yeah, just give me a few minutes!” You replied as you washed your face. “I’ll meet you guys over there.” It had only been three weeks since you called it quits with the mustache having aviator who had stolen your heart. The entire situation made you feel dirty. Even if you weren’t the one in the wrong. No amount of showering could wash away the dirty feeling you’d been left with.

What could be worse than being branded the dirty mistress? That no one told you about the cheating scandal that had rocked the Bradshaws' happy marriage about a year ago. That was worse.

Bradley swore black and blue he was going to tell you. He’d sworn the rest of the squad to secrecy about the details too. He wanted to be the one to tell you. To tell you that you were the first woman he’d been with since he’d walked in on his wife, Katie, and his best friend, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, in bed together.

Still, the ultimatum was given. You’d asked Bradley to pick you, choose you, love you. But when the time came to decide he chose his wife. His reasonings were none of your business nor concern.

And so you walked away. Labelled the mistress and the interim love affair. Even against the Chester you didn’t compare—and that crushed you completely.

“You’ve been doing that an awful lot lately.” Pennys voice broke through the haze you’d fallen into at the bar. The drink you’d ordered, Gin Sour, sat in front of you on a Hard Deck coaster. “What’s on your mind daydreamer?”

“More like a never ending nightmare Pen.” You sighed before reaching for your drink. “This whole situation makes me feel like I need a lobotomy.”

“Rooster still trying to force a friendship?” In truth Bradley thought he owed his marriage just one more shot. But right after you walked away he immediately started to regret his decision to choose his wife. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and all that was you. He’d made the wrong decision, but was too proud to admit it. Especially to his wife.

He stood across the Hard Deck with a beer in his hand and his arm slung around her hip, looking at you like a puppy you’d left out in the rain. He missed you, oh so much. And that fact you hardly spoke to him these days made his heart hurt inside his chest.

“Yeah—and I don’t think I can handle it anymore.” You admitted before taking a sip of your drink. “I’ve asked for a transfer, just to make it easier. I can’t focus, can’t sleep, because he’s just—always around.”

“Sounds to me like you’re just running away from your problems.” Penny held her tongue as she watched the tall sandy blonde appear next to you at the bar. “That, or you know that you’re still in love with the guy and no matter what you do he’ll still manage to wiggle his way in because you’ll always allow him to.” It took you a few moments to register what the stranger beside you said as you eyed him up and down.

“Sensitivity—“ You rolled your eyes. “I like that in a stranger.” The alcohol coursed through your body like a mild painkiller. “Are you new in town?” The civvies were an excellent camouflage against the sea of tans that flooded the Hard Deck—and Penny wasn’t about to be the one who told you the stranger you were talking to was the reason for your current situation.

“Just visiting—“ He made sure to lie, a little white lie never hurt anyone. Or so they said. But the man beside you with the perfect smile and emerald green eyes definitely wanted to see how far he could get this conversation. “I’m confounded by all the patches and it’s only my first day in town.” He sighed softly as he sat beside you. “Budweiser please Barkeep.” Penny nodded without another word.

“You get used to it, North Island is a Naval Base after all.” It felt like a needed explanation. The stranger beside you nodded softly as he fished his wallet out of his back pocket.

“So I’ve heard.” A comfortable silence fell between you and the handsome stranger as he waited for his beer. “Kinda wish I’d stayed in bed, if I had known this place would be crawling with Naval Officers I wouldn’t have bothered.” Oh he knew, he knew all right.

He knew that the Hard Deck would be packed to the rafters with the Dagger Squad and he certainly knew North Island was a Naval Base. Why? Because he was a part of that designated team. You’d just been the one who replaced him while he was tasked to special ops. Now? He was back to cause chaos.

“Hey Rooster—“ Fanboy grabbed Bradley’s attention away from Bob. “You see who’s at the bar with Siren?” As Bradley turned his attention back to where he’d known you to be sitting for the better half of the evening, he immediately saw red. A jealousy that rivaled nothing he’d ever felt before consumed him fully, even if his wife was tucked in at his side.

“We just met and already you’re talking about bed.” You chuckled softly as you took another sip of your drink. Penny had since passed Jake his Budweiser and before you knew it, he was laughing softly beside you. “Not very subtle.”

“Being subtle was never really my strong suit.” The man beside you replied with a look of all knowing. He knew something you didn’t. If you didn’t know any better you would have asked what that may have been. But you chose to take another sip of your gin. Settletting once again into the comfortable silence that surrounded you and the stranger to your right.

“So, you ever go out with co-workers?” It stunned you for a second, the forwardness of such a question, but then again—you still didn’t know this guy's name and he was making the heat in your cheeks reach new uncharted heights.

“I um—“ You tucked some of your hair behind your ear and turned to give the golden skinned, white T wearing man beside you your full attention. Crossing your legs as you did so, so that his knees were on either side of yours. “I make it a rule not to.” His answer sent a shiver down your spin. A good shiver. A shiver that made your core flutter.

“Then I am so glad that I don’t work here.” Maybe it was the gin talking or maybe it was your recent breakup, but this guy was the very definition of a piece of art. He was gorgeous, an Adonis that surely would have come straight out of accent metrology.

“Are you hitting on me?” You tried to hide the keen grin that threatened to creep across your slightly heated face, but the sudden attention was giving you an ego boost you desperately needed after being rejected in favour of the cheating wife.

“Would that be so wrong?” Oh this guy was good. Too good. His infectious smile captivated you in every way it could have. His eyes held a story that was dying to be told. His confidence made you want to lean in and taste it, like hard candy it probably tastes just as sweet as his scent smelled. With notes of Vanilla and warm Bourbon lingering from his neck.

So you stuck your hand out for him to accept ever so politely. His eyes never left your as you smiled and bit your bottom lip bashfully.

“I’m Y/n—“ “Lieutenant Y/n Siren Y/l/n.” “And you are?” Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next. Remember that slow motion we were talking about earlier? Well, the seconds it took Bradley Bradshaw's fist to collide against your handsome mystery man’s cheek, it felt like a century as it played out in painfully slow motion before you.

His head hit the bar with a thud as beer spilled into your lap.

“Rooster! Jesus—!” You gasped as you stood and pushed against Bradley’s chest to back him up and away from the man you’d just been talking to. “Fuck! what the hell was that!?”

Bradley didn’t answer right away as you turned to watch the blond stand with blood dripping down and out of his nose. The two stood there in silence, eyeing each other off as Penny fished out the bar's basic first aid kit.

“That—“ Bradley huffed as he shook his throbbing hand. His jaw had never been so clenched before. He was furious and full of a rage that burned so deep it could have raised his core temperature by a few degrees.

His wife stood off to the side looking all kinds of guilty. As did the rest of the Daggers. They knew this was about to get messy. They knew if he was back and already had his target set on you then there was going to be an all out war between the two men who stood ready to run at each other like angry bulls.

And you, well—you were more concerned about the blood gushing from the nose of your stranger than you were about your ex’s possibly broken hand. But Bradley turned back to you, for a mere second to explain.

And when he did—you forgot what morals were.

“That was Jake.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*

#rooster bradshaw imagine #hangman seresin imagine #top gun fic #top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw top gun #jake seresin top gun #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #jake seresin x female!reader

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thedroneranger · 1 year

Text

Call You Mine

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Précis: It's hard to get over Bradley Bradshaw. And who can blame you? Love makes us crazy. If it doesn't, are you doing it right?

Note: Excited to finally post this! Life made this one take a little longer. This is one of two entries for @cherrycola27’s #top gun taylors version challenge! Congratulations, on the milestone, babe—I'm sure we'll be celebrating another soon! This fic is inspired by a T. Swift favorite of mine, Don't Blame Me. Enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit: stalking, violence, attempted murder, masturbation.

Word count: 3.5k

What did he see in her?

It wasn’t the first time that thought had crossed your mind, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

Her hair was down, and her outfit casual—light-colored jeans with a loose-fitting t-shirt front tucked. Sunglasses shading her eyes, she sipped coffee and scrolled her phone while she waited for him. After what seemed like an eternity, he joined her.

Through narrowed eyes, you watched as she stood to greet him and they embraced. She threw her arms around his neck, getting on her tiptoes, while his arms slung low on her waist.

You and Natasha met a handful of times. Bradley insisted he and Nat were friends and nothing more. Of course, you didn’t believe Bradley for a second. Every touch, every hug, every late night phone call said otherwise.

They were so natural together. Like birds singing as the morning sun rose or crickets crooning in the twilight.

No wonder Bradley thought it couldn’t work with you. How could he when there was five-foot-seven worth of gorgeous grin and glowing skin staring at him over a coffee cup?

She had to go.

Sinking lower in the driver’s seat of your vehicle, you watched as they got up together. After disposing of their cups, Bradley walked Natasha to her SUV, which you knew was parked around the corner. As they disappeared, you punched the ignition button and pulled out of your curbside spot across the street.

“Catch you later tonight?” Natasha asked as she slid into the driver’s seat.

“Absolutely.” Bradley rasped, holding the door open. They grinned at each other as he closed it. As she pulled away, and they exchanged waves through the window.

Bradley waited on the street, hands in his jean pockets and watched until her tail lights illuminated at a stop sign before she drove through the intersection. Then, he walked a few spaces up to his Bronco and hopped in.

This morning, when you tailed Natasha, her day was rather uneventful. You waited until you spotted her sleek SUV rolling out of the private garage of her condo building. Shifting into drive, you followed as she first stopped at the post office. Once she came back out, Natasha took a call while she sat in the vehicle, shuffling around, looking for something she eventually found.

Next, she stopped for gas and went inside to get a shitty gas station latte. Seemed to be a routine indulgence for her. After that, she spent what seemed like an eternity in the grocery store. Once all her groceries were loaded into her vehicle, Natasha headed back to her condo that was tucked in a mid-sized building on the downtown main drag.

You’d found the building plans in the public records and knew which unit was hers. Although the building wasn’t that large, it was well-secured. In contrast, Bradley’s bungalow had a much lower security threshold. Plus, you were familiar with the layout.

Since you’d followed Natasha this morning, and would bet your next month’s salary that she and Bradley were meeting at the Hard Deck tonight, you decided to see what Bradley was up to this afternoon.

Leisurely, you drove to Bradley’s, taking an elongated route. As you turned onto Bradley’s street, you killed the music, glided by his house, confirmed his Bronco was parked in the driveway and continued on to the street parallel to his. You parked in the spot that gave you the perfect view of his backyard and into his house through a couple curtainless windows.

There he was. Shirtless. Floating around, bopping his head to the music surely streaming through the living room sound system. Watching through your camera lens, you snapped a few images.

As you captured photos, you recalled the couple times you’d witness him and Natasha twirling around, dancing. Faces lit with laughter as he spun her around, and then dipped her for the finale.

Bradley never did that with you.

The burn of jealousy you felt quickly washed away as your lens zeroed in on Bradley’s broad back. Your thoughts drifted to touching Bradley—every dimple, every tendon, every scar.

Of course, the few months you and Bradley spent together weren’t sexless. For you, it was some of the best sex of your life, and Bradley seemed to have no complaints. A matter of fact, each moan or toe curl you were able to pull from Bradley seemed like a badge of honor.

Thinking about Bradley laying underneath you as your hand steadied yourself on his sculpted chest had you sighing deeply. You could practically feel his hip bones cradling your thighs as you rode him and his hands curving around your hips.

The memory of his thumb drawing tight circles on your clit had you sinking into your seat, squeezing your eyes closed and heat gathering in your lap. Replays of your sexcapades continued to flood your mind, filling your dam. You needed a release. Soon, your jeans were unzipped and your legs as wide as the car seat would allow.

Your lip disappeared between your teeth as you slipped your middle and ring fingers into yourself, slicking them to then paint your swollen clit so you could attempt to recreate even a fraction of the pleasure Bradley had given you several times over.

Envisioning Bradley’s large hand palming your chest, and then sliding up to cover your throat, had you gripping the door handle with your free hand as your pace quickened. The heat in your belly was building to boil, the pot lid close to skittering off.

Bradley’s face as he finished—the furrow of his brow, twitch of his mustache—flashed through your mind and pushed you across the finish line. A sigh only for you left your lips as you let your release wash over you, dissipating the tension. Pulling yourself back together, you continued watching Bradley through the back windows.

On his days off, he always hit the gym late in the afternoon. You attributed it to keeping his daily shower count to one. Because, undoubtedly, Bradley would come home post-workout to get ready for the Hard Deck.

While Bradley was at the gym, you were going to the hair appointment you’d scheduled a few weeks ago. A smile pulled your lips as you perfectly parallel parked across the street from the salon. Marc, your stylist, was there to greet you with open arms and an Americano.

Like all trusted stylists, Marc knew all about your life, including Bradley. He knew all about Bradley’s longtime friend who had had her chance to shoot her shot with him. However, she hesitated too long, and now you were in the picture. But that didn’t stop her from crossing boundaries even though you asked her to stop.

Tonight, you were going to end it once and for all.

After an afternoon in Marc’s hands, you were practically a new person. A cute sundress would compliment your makeover perfectly. Back home, you twirled in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom, deciding which dress was best. Eventually, you decided on the knee-length one with flutter sleeves and a deep V-neck.

Tonight was a night that your inability to be anywhere in a timely fashion paid off. By the time you reached the Hard Deck, the parking lot was fairly full, allowing you to park toward the back of the lot undetected. With one final look in the rearview mirror, you slid out of the driver’s seat and headed for the front door.

Bradley’s Bronco was unmistakable, proudly parked as close to the entrance as possible. A few spaces down was Natasha’s luxury SUV.

The bar was crowded, so you easily disappeared into the sea of civilians and servicepeople. Head on a swivel, still waiting for Natasha or Bradley in your peripheral, you causally wound through the crowd, venturing around the venue.

There he was. The floral print Aloha shirt wrapping his broad shoulders gave him away. Natasha stood tucked into his side, his arm draped over her shoulders. You recognized many of the faces they were laughing with from photos.

With them in your sight, you headed to the bar to find a spot with a view but that also kept you in the crowd. The woman behind the bar didn’t recognize you as you ordered. One of the few times you’d been here with Bradley, he had introduced you to the bartender, who also owned the establishment.

Drink in hand, you slipped into a seat that had conveniently opened up. Bradley and Natasha bantered with each other, with their friends and shittalked while facing each other in a game of pool.

“Hey.” The greeting bore a hint of southern drawl. You turned to see one of their friends, the good looking blond, dragging his gaze over you. You coolly returned his greeting and took a sip of your drink.

The man had no clue who you were. Not that you could blame him. He’d met you once and had seen you maybe two or three times total. Plus, with your drastic cut and color, you might as well be a complete stranger.

He made small talk while he waited for a fresh round of drinks. As he departed, he invited you to stop by the group. Upon his departure, you gave him an open-ended response and a wink.

It amazed you how few boundaries Bradley and Natasha had with each other. As the night wore on, you watched each touch grow more intimate. At one point, Bradley had his arm wrapped around Natasha’s hips with his hand in her front pocket. It was a move he had put on you while you two walked to keep you close.

You watched as each drink made them a little looser, a little flirtier. At one point, you watched Natasha play wingman for every man in their group—except Bradley.

At last call, the crowd began to thin. You finished your drink, cashed out and slunk to your vehicle. Hand on the door and a glance over your shoulder, you slipped into the backseat. Sitting behind the passenger seat gave you a better view of the building. To the unassuming eye, your vehicle was one of several destined to spend the night in the lot.

Before Bradley and Natasha spilled out of the Hard Deck, you watched the blond from earlier climb into a black F-150 Raptor. You were surprised to see him alone. Must be all talk. A few more familiar faces filtered out.

Finally, they shuffled out with another friend. The friend you were convinced was pining for Natasha but was too shy to do anything about it. He and Bradley chatted while Natasha clung to Bradley’s side. She clearly was not driving tonight. They parted ways, the shy friend going to his vehicle, and Bradley putting Natasha in the passenger seat of the Bronco before getting in.

First, Shy Friend eased out of the parking lot. Then, Bradley backed out and headed for the exit. A smile pulled your lips as he turned left, signaling he was taking her home with him.

This time you drove straight to the spot on the street parallel to Bradley’s that had the perfect sightline into his house. From there, you watched as he carried Natasha through the hall, disappearing in the direction of his bedroom. Eventually, the lights died and a stillness fell upon the house.

Quiet as possible, you slipped out of your vehicle. As you walked, you slipped on leather gloves you’d had for ages but never had a reason to wear. Knowing the family living in the house directly behind Bradley’s was away on vacation, you took the most direct route to his house. Under the cover of the thick trees and sparse streetlights, you snuck down their side yard and into the back.

You easily scaled the standard chain-link fence that conjoined their yards. Thankfully, Bradley kept his yard tidy. Looking at his grill and the outdoor dining set made you think of the few times he’d grilled for you. Surely Natasha was reaping that benefit tenfold now.

Standing in front of his backdoor, you gingerly grasped the handle and twisted the knob. It gave you zero resistance as the door floated open. Bradley would absolutely be locking his back door after this. Making sure the hinges didn’t betray you, you took your time stepping across the threshold and closing yourself in.

Enveloped in a new level of darkness, you stood for a minute, allowing your eyes to adjust. Slowly, you began to see the familiar lines of the counter and the silhouettes of appliances.

You wanted to touch everything but knew to touch nothing. Your ears were on alert, listening for the slightest disturbance. So far, the only thing you could hear was Bradley’s deep breathing that, arguably, was a light snore. However, it didn’t sound like it was coming from his room.

Curiosity piqued, you glided toward the living room. Bingo. Splayed on the oversized, for his comfort, couch was Bradley. He was in a deep slumber. You admired him. Lips barely open, but enough to produce his audible breathing. Curls mussed and resting on his bulging bicep that acted as an extra pillow. The man ran hot, so the blanket he started his slumber with was now tangled at his feet, leaving his form clad only in drawstring gym shorts.

As you watched him, the streetlight in front of his house gave the living room a bit more light, his chest rose and fell. Your mind wandered to why he was on the couch and not in his bed with Natasha. You didn’t think too hard about it, though. It made your task easier.

Releasing you had your fists balled at your sides, you unclenched them as you turned to head for the bedroom. The door was ajar, just the slightest. Using the back of two gloved fingers, you slowly pushed it open.

Natasha was nestled under the fluffy bedding in the center of Bradley’s huge bed, sleeping soundly. Your eyes stayed glued to her as you crept into the room and put the door back the way you found it. Staying to the edge of the room, you calculated your plan of attack. Watching her sleep with a neutral expression, seemingly relaxed, you thought you might be beginning to understand why Bradley was so taken with her.

Gaze never leaving Natasha, you approached the edge of the bed. She didn’t stir. Removing a glove, you gingerly leaned onto the bed, knee first. Eyes still glued to Natasha for any sign of movement. Eventually, you were leaning over her, face-to-face, really studying her.

Unable to help yourself, you ran your thumb along her full bottom lip. She was soft, angelic—maybe that’s why Bradley liked her so much. Your face was so close to hers—you really wanted to know what her lips would feel like against yours. Add evidence to the case for why Bradley liked her so much.

While you thought about Natasha’s lips, keeping your gaze on your face, you managed to mount her without disturbance. The amount of down bedding between the two of you was a huge aide in minimizing the movement ripples.

You looked at her one last time as you took one of the pillows her head wasn’t resting on and held it in front of your chest. “Sweet dreams,” you said barely above a whisper as you leaned forward to cover her face with it.

Your grip was light until you felt her tensing. She was waking, trying to free her arms that were bracketed by your legs and trapped underneath the blankets. Her screams were muffled. “Shh, I’ll take great care of him.” Your closed eyes as you hugged her head with the pillow. Natasha was fighting less and less.

“What the fuck?!” you heard from behind you. At the same time, you heard the door bang against the wall. You looked over your shoulder to see Bradley charging toward you. Before you could move, his hand was around your neck, ripping you off the bed. Natasha scrambled to the edge of the bed furthest away from you. Bradley was there, arms open, waiting to embrace her.

Sheer size allowed him to throw you against the dresser a few feet away from the bed. You heard a thud and felt a sharp pain in the back of your head as you hit the heirloom dresser. Your eyes were having a hard time focusing as you slid to the floor. Involuntarily, your hand moved to the back of your head where the pain seared most. As your hand re-entered your field of vision, you could see your blood on your fingertips.

Bradley’s voice sounded distant. Question in his voice as he said your name. However, you looked up to see him kneeling in front of you. Your vision was slightly blurry. “You’ve gone too far this time.” Of course, Bradley still recognized you—some hair dye and a drastic cut wouldn’t fade your face from his memory.

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice pulled you out of your mind and back into the room.

Natasha bound into the doorway, wearing one of Bradley’s t-shirts. He must’ve dressed her before he put her to bed. They exchanged looks before her gaze dropped to you on the floor. She quickly turned and disappeared.

“Let’s go.” Bradley gruffly grabbed your bicep. He gave you no time to get to your feet. Instead, three quarters of your body dragged along the floor as he pulled you to the kitchen. When he let you go, you slumped to the floor, your forearms stopping your face from hitting the tile. You were still lightheaded with fuzzy vision as you pressed yourself up on your palms.

“Bradley…” You slowly moved into a cross-legged sitting position.

“Don’t.” He cut you off. Bradley squared his body to you, arms across his chest. “There’s no coming back from this.” Bradley was pissed.

You shook your head. “No, no.” Panic set in. “Don’t blame me!” you squeaked. Tears were beginning to well as you tried to get to your feet.

“Stay on the floor,” he commanded. His look was deadly. Tears rolled down your cheeks.

He sighed and ran his hands over his face. Bradley should’ve seen this coming. You were insane. The letters, showing up at his home unannounced, somehow frequenting the same places he did at the same. However, it never crossed his mind that you would try to murder someone, let alone his best friend.

While you reasoned with Bradley, Natasha was standing next to the couch, arms wrapped around herself, staring toward the kitchen. Eyes dilated from shock. She kept forgetting to breathe. When her body finally remembered, the sharp inhale would jolt her back to reality. She could hear Bradley’s voice but was not comprehending his words. The tones of your voice were grating her nerves, causing her arms to constrict tighter around her.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the front door slowly open. Iced to her spot beside the couch, she watched fingers curl around the edge while the barrel of a standard-issue pistol poked inside. Holding the gun was a plain-clothes police officer. “Jay.” Relief washed through Natasha as she identified the face holding the weapon.

“Hey, Nat.” Jay mouthed and flashed a reassuring smile. Quickly, he pressed his free pointer finger to his lips. A curt nod from Natasha let him know she understood his command, and then she watched as he stalked toward the kitchen.

A friend of Bradley’s, Jay was supposed to meet them at the Hard Deck earlier but had to cancel due to work. Of course, Natasha’s heart sank a little when she heard, but the text message from him promising to make it up to her eased the discomfort.

Jay huddled in the kitchen doorway shadows, waiting for his partner to reach the backdoor. Natasha had briefed him on the situation when she called, so they plotted their entry on the drive over. Familiar with Bradley’s house, Jay knew the entry points, so your odds of escaping were minimal.

Back to the door, you didn’t see a face appear in the corner of the window. Bradley noticed but did not acknowledge in a way that made you aware. Not that it mattered—your vision was hazed between your head injury and the tears. Plus, you were occupied mumbling apologies to Bradley.

Everything happened all at once. The backdoor sprang open, someone jumped on top of you, and a man you had seen a few times stepped out of the shadows, pointing a gun at you. Bradley had fallen back and was standing with Natasha in his arms at the living room-kitchen threshold.

Your mind was numb as the officers cuffed you and read your Miranda rights. The last thing you remembered was falling to your knees in the driveway and yelling for Bradley to forgive you. Standing in the doorway, he looked you dead in the eyes and closed the door.

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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year

Text

Truly Madly Deeply

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is madly in love with a married woman.

CW: FLUFFFFFF (Happy Valentine's Day, my loves!!)

WC: 1300+

This fic was written for @roosterforme’s love is in the air tgm challenge! Inspired by the song Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden.

Masterlist

“Sorry, I’m married,” Bradley hears you say to the man who’s just offered to buy you a drink. He glances over his shoulder just in time to witness your suitor’s face fall in disappointment. He notices that you give him an apologetic smile and it melts Bradley’s heart that you’re being so sweet to a complete stranger.

He eyes you discreetly as you wave with a couple of fingers at the man now departing sullenly. You turn on your stool to face the bar, revealing the deep plunge of your dress which exposes your exquisite back, and Bradley can’t help but stare at you in admiration. He smiles to himself, biting into his lip. “Married, huh?” he asks, leaning his forearms into the bar.

You glance over at him in surprise.

“And here I thought I could buy you a drink,” Bradley says with a sideways grin.

You stare at him for a moment before letting out a small chuckle.

“Who’s the lucky guy, anyway?” he asks, looking around the bar.

“Strange,” you reply, craning your neck to look over Bradley’s shoulder. “He was just here.”

Bradley shakes his head. “Ill-timed departure on his part,” he says, meeting your gaze. “I would never let a woman like you out of my sight.”

You giggle. “He’s around, I’m sure.”

Bradley watches you mischievously. “And yet,” he says, getting out of his seat. “We can’t let an opportunity such as this pass us by.” He holds out his hand to you.

You give him a piercing look and hook one of your eyebrows. “And what opportunity would that be?”

“Come on.” Bradley grins at you. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you letting me have one dance.”

“You’re probably right, actually.” You shrug. “My husband’s not really the jealous type.”

“Really?” Bradley asks incredulously as you stand up. “He should be.”

You chuckle. “He trusts me.”

Bradley’s eyes sweep over your features when you glance up at him and he tries to recall the last time he’s encountered such beauty. You are, without a doubt, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. But this fact doesn’t intimidate him in the slightest. He takes your hand and draws you out onto the open floor, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

You smile when he takes you by the waist. “Now I feel bad for sending that other guy away,” you say. “If I’m just handing out dances.”

Bradley makes a face. “He wasn’t trying hard enough,” he says. “See, I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

You laugh. “Is that so?”

Bradley nods. “You know what else?”

“What?” you ask suspiciously as the two of you move gently to the distant music of the jukebox.

“I’m going to kiss you when this song is over,” he says.

You raise your eyebrows as your mouth falls open in shock. “You mean, assuming I’ll let you!”

Bradley’s gaze drops briefly to your lips. “You’ll let me.”

You shake your head with a scandalized smile.

“Think your husband would mind?” he asks.

You fix him with a more serious look. “What do you think?”

“You said he wasn’t the jealous type.”

You lower your gaze and lick your top lip before lifting your eyes temptingly. “My husband would fucking lose it if he saw me making out with a stranger on the dance floor.”

Bradley bites his lip, chuckling. “I bet.”

You roll your eyes, a smile still playing on your face, and Bradley just about loses it himself.

“What’ll it take for you to come home with me?” he asks boldly.

You give him a pointed glance and he pulls you slightly closer. “Gee, let me think,” you respond playfully.

Bradley chuckles. “I’ll do anything,” he says in a low voice, his mouth moving right over your temple.

You shake your head and look up at him. “You’re bad,” you say with a grin.

Bradley brings his face down to meet yours, his arms coming up to wrap around your back. He draws you closer until your head is resting on his chest. “I’m so in love with you,” he breathes.

You giggle into his chest and his heart performs a series of somersaults against your cheek. Your hands snake underneath his open Hawaiian shirt to meet behind his back. “You’re ridiculous,” you respond calmly.

Bradley kisses the top of your head. “I love you more with every breath,” he whispers.

You raise your head slightly and he can feel the warmth of your mouth on his neck. “I think you’re alright,” you say gently.

Bradley snorts, his arms tightening around you. He rests his cheek on your head, his fingers grazing your bare back. “I could hold you forever,” he mutters. “Can’t I just hold you forever?”

He feels you relax further into his embrace. “Okay,” you respond softly.

Bradley’s arms constrict around your body, and he plants several kisses on your forehead. “I bet you’re way out of your husband’s league,” he says with a heavy rasp as his hand starts travelling up and down your waist.

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

Bradley’s hand stops moving abruptly and comes to rest of your hip. “You love him?”

You give Bradley an earnest glance. “Very much,” you say.

Bradley eyes you curiously. “How the fuck did he land a woman like you?”

You laugh. “Well,” you say, “for one thing, he’s unbelievably sexy.”

Bradley smirks. “I bet he isn’t half as sexy as you are.”

You roll your eyes. “He’s smart, and funny, and sweet, and a little crazy sometimes.”

Bradley laughs. “Sounds pretty basic, if you ask me.”

You give him a tight smile, trying to hold back a laugh. “And his confidence is off the charts.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows. “Can he take me?”

You let out a giggle. “He wouldn’t,” you say. “He’s not the jealous type, remember?”

Bradley gives you a skeptical look. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I think your husband would absolutely annihilate anybody who would dare lay a hand on you.”

You watch him with a tantalising smirk. “Is that what you would do?”

Bradley meets your gaze and responds firmly, “No question.”

You rest your head back on his chest and let out a contented sigh when the first notes of a very familiar song ring out through the bar. Bradley looks up to see Jake Seresin winking at him from where he’s standing by the jukebox. Bradley smirks, nodding at his friend in appreciation. Meanwhile, you start humming to the melody absently while Bradley sways you gently from side to side.

When the bridge kicks in, Bradley sings along, “Oh, can you see it, baby? You don’t have to close your eyes. It’s standing right before you…”

You detach yourself partially and look up at him. “I’ve always loved this song,” you say.

Bradley tenderly runs his fingers along the side of your face. “I know, baby,” he says.

“My husband’s not a big fan,” you say with a playful grin.

“Oh, no?” Bradley lifts eyebrows.

“I had to beg him to make this our wedding song.”

“He made you beg?” Bradley asks in outrage.

“Mm-hm.” You nod. “Can you believe it?”

Bradley lowers his head and, placing his hands on either side of your face, brushes the tip of his nose against yours. “Something tells me your husband would do anything for you.”

You giggle. “If only I knew where he was.”

Bradley grins, biting the side of his lip. “Joke’s on him. He’s missing all the fun.”

You reach up to twist your fingers into Bradley’s shirt, pulling him closer. “You promised me a kiss.”

Bradley chuckles. “Oh, you want a kiss?”

You nod, humming in affirmation.

Bradley smirks, rolling his tongue along your open mouth before letting his lips finally make contact with yours. You whimper softly into his mouth and his chest nearly erupts with desire. He loves you so deeply, so madly, so – “You know, the song’s growing on me,” he mutters between kisses.

You laugh. “I knew you’d come around eventually.”

Bradley lets out a fevered sigh, his hands sliding down your arms as the song comes to an end. “Come on, Mrs. Bradshaw,” he says hoarsely, a bit impatiently. “I’m taking you home.”

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ohcaptains · 2 years

Text

triple x

pairing. rooster x pilot! female! reader

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

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

The night-time is forgiving.

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

You’re nervous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rooster likes to be told.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There were strictly no relationships between teammates.

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

Now, though, It’d been months.

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

Rooster kisses you again because now he freely can.

The last time you kissed was three days ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You got the keys?”

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

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

You do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s barely touched you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes blow wide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Never been this good this quick.

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

Rooster figures out what you’re doing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re weeping at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sees everything.

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

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

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

Why would you when you both know what you want?

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

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

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

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

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

You swear you’re somewhere else.

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

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

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

“You don’t wanna see?”

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

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

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

“Yeah, you do. Nod your head for me.”

You nod. Of course, you fucking nod.

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

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

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

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

You make a high-pitched whining sound.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes go soft.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So fucking familiar.

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

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

“You feel okay, baby?”

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

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roosterbruiser · 1 year

Note

Okay but as someone w lupus who is not doing too hot rn, I would drop kick someone into the sun for a good blurb of Bradley taking care of me 🫣

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐮𝐭

𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

You aren't sleeping very soundly. Try as you might--drawing the curtains closed, putting a pillow over your face, getting under a weighted blanket, playing white noise, turning the fan on high, even putting a few drops of lavender essential oil on your pillow--the deep and all-consuming sleep you crave just isn't coming.

And it isn't just that you can't sleep--it's that you just don't feel good. You're certain you have a low-grade fever, your joints are aching, and you're sluggish.

After trying to be a productive human for a few hours, you decide to just give into the desire to lay down and sleep. Except the closest you come to sleeping is fluttering in and out of awareness with a sudden jolt.

Bradley comes home, lug-sole boots thundering against the entryway tiles, without a care in the world. He tosses his keys in their designated metal bowl with a resounding clang. He's even still crooning some Peter Gabriel song that was playing in the Bronco on his drive home. Needless to say--he seems to be making as much noise as humanly possible, entirely and blissfully unaware of the throb in your temple.

"Baby!" He calls out dramatically, unlacing his shoes and tossing them aside (another bang, bang!). "Where are you? M'gonna explode if I don't kiss you right now!"

Any other day, you'd be elated to hear such a romantic--albeit melodramatic--statement. But right now, your throat is aching and your eyelids are heavy and you're tired in the very marrow in your bones.

He starts for the stairs, still humming loudly along to a song that is just not playing, and calls out your name. You don't have it in you to raise your voice--which is the only way he'd be able to hear you, anyway--so you just wait underneath your pillow and wait for the sound-bomb that is your boyfriend burst through the door.

Burst through he does--letting the door slam against the wall (a habit you are really trying to get him to break seeing as he's put a lock-shaped hole in the wall. He says he just gets too excited and you think it's endearing, but you're also sure that he's getting tired of spackling the same spot every weekend) as he enters the room full of song and cheer.

But then he sees you.

You look just as tired and worn down as you feel; fingers a blue-tint, body covered entirely by the weighted blanket you only break out when he isn't home to lay on top of you, and pillow pressed against your face a tell-tale sign that something isn't right.

"Oh, baby," he whispers softly, immediately hurrying into the bedroom, now mindful of his footfalls. He presses his hands against yours, tutting when he feels how cold your fingers are. "You should've called," he says soberly, stroking the soft skin of your hand with his calloused thumb. "Would've come home, baby."

You groan, shaking your head, unwilling to open your eyes.

"You're government property," you tell him softly, muffled by a mouthful of pillow. "Can't just tell the Navy to give my boyfriend to me for a day."

Even without looking, you know he's grinning. Even as shitty as you feel and you're cracking jokes.

"Don't you know the Navy answers to you, baby?" He chuckles, bending down to press a fleeting kiss to your hand, patting your forearm.

"Hah," you manage dryly.

That's how he knows you really don't feel good--you can't keep riffing with him. His chest is aching just looking down at you. Poor thing, he's thinking.

"Let me tuck you in," he says softly. "Permission to move the pillow?"

You grumble, but shoot him a thumbs up.

It's so bright in the room, even with the curtains closed. You have to blink a few times, squinting up at him. And he's smiling in that soft way, pitying you and loving you all at once. He hates when you're sick more than anything in the world, but boy is it a breath of fresh air just to see that face of yours.

You frown, your cheeks pink.

"Hi," you whisper, voice ragged.

He strokes your hair softly, slyly checking your forehead for a fever. Then he leans down and presses his lips against yours; it's a soft and sweet kiss, one he's been looking forward to all day.

"Hi," he mumbles against your lips. "Y'look beautiful."

You scoff.

"Shut up," you mutter, sighing. "I'm sick."

He kisses you again, nuzzling his nose against yours. He's grinning now.

"And those two things are mutually exclusive?"

You don't have it in you to retort, so you just roll your eyes.

"M'gonna grab a survival kit," he starts, stroking your cheek carefully, noting how pink it is in comparison to the rest of your peaked face. "Don't go anywhere, okay?"

You glare at him--he just can't help himself today, apparently. You have just enough energy to stick your tongue out at him and he walks out of the room chuckling.

He's good at taking care of you--it's because his mom was good at taking care of him when he was sick. She spoiled him and even if he didn't physically feel good, he loved being showered with attention. So he gives you the same treatment. It's not that he likes when you're sick, but he likes to spoil you.

You drift off for the few minutes he's gone and come to as he pads through the door with his arms full. He kneels at your bedside, humming quietly, in full nurse-mode.

"Open," he hums, holding a thermometer to your lips. You comply without a grumble and he pats your cheek. "Should I crush your pills up and hide them in applesauce?" He asks.

You narrow your eyes at him, shaking your head. He has a shit-eating grin spread across his pretty face, chuckling to himself.

You have to admit--he is endearing when he's like this. You know he's only trying to lighten your mood and honestly? It's working. Damn Bradley Bradshaw.

He's humming to himself as he moves to pull the covers up around your feet and slips a pair of fuzzy socks on you. He even leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your socked feet, which would make you gag if it was any other man than Bradley. But that's the thing about Bradley--you were totally and completely in love with him and he returned those feelings tenfold. Hell, he was obsessed with you! There was not even one part on your body he didn't adore, not one state of being that he wasn't enamored with.

He tucks you in with a gentleness only someone as lovely as Bradley could possess. Then he swiftly grabs the thermometer from your lips and reads it with his eyebrows pinched.

"What's the prognosis?" You ask, resting your cheek on your shoulder.

He opens his mouth, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Says you're hot," you and Bradley say in tandem, your tone dripping with faux-mockery and his dripping with genuine charm.

"Am I getting predictable?" He asks, popping a bottle of fever reducer and placing two on your tongue, effectively rendering you wordless again. He holds a straw to your lips and you drink as much as you can before collapsing back into the pillows.

"Only sometimes," you say quietly, eyes growing heavier by the second.

You honestly just feel better in his presence--the ache in your skull dulled by his grin, by his careful touch, by that glimmer in his eyes that makes you gooey inside. So when he kisses your forehead again and tells you that he's going to put some soup on, you are not surprised to feel that tell-tale exhaustion flood you. It's one you can't evade; within minutes, you're slumbering under the blanket he tucked around you, lips wet with icy water, feet warmed by socks he bought for you.

"Nurse Bradley reporting for duty! May I offer you a sponge bath--!"

He stops speaking as soon as he sees your slumbering form.

He isn't gone for very long--maybe fifteen minutes--but when he comes through the bedroom door carrying a tray of chicken noddle soup and saltine crackers and finds you finally resting, he's relieved.

He knew you were tired and he knows how difficult it is for you to sleep when he's not home. He sets the tray down on the bedside table as carefully as he can, quickly stripping to his boxers, climbing onto the bed beside you. You rouse only for a moment as he tangles your limbs in his, tucking your head under his chin, slotting his leg between yours.

But he's quick to press soft kisses to the crown of your head, stroking your hair.

"Shh," he whispers. "S'okay. Just couldn't leave you all by yourself in this big ole bed, baby."

You smile through your exhaustion, wrapping your arms around that warm and taut torso, nuzzling your face in his neck. He smells so good; like the nice soap you buy from his shower this morning, like jet fuel, like salt air. It is a scent that entirely overwhelms you with adoration and comfort.

"You liiike me," you mumble, yawning.

He laughs, kissing you again and again, letting himself get lost in your sweet scent.

"More than that," he whispers. "I love you--so much. Just so, so much."

You're slipping away again, mouth parted, face blanched in the infinite warmth of his tanned skin.

"I love you too," you whisper, muffled by his throat. "Nerd."

His heart is so full right now that he's certain it's going to burst--he loves you more and more every single day. It's something that overwhelms him at times, something that wets his eyes, parts his lips. And right now, with your bodies an endless and intricate pile of flushed and goosed skin, he feels it now. His heart lulled to a steady rhythm that he knows is the cadence of your name, his eyelids heavy with something close to sleepiness, his fingers tingling as they comb through your hair.

Bliss. That's what he's feeling as he holds you, as he thinks about reheating your soup when you wake up, as he mentally marks what time you will need another dose of fever-reducer. Total, absolute bliss.

here is my tag list!!

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untitlednerd · 1 year

Text

Mind Demons

Bradley Bradshaw x reader oneshot/drabble. Short and sweet.

Warnings: None, other than no spelling or grammar checks.

Summary: No matter how hard the battle between you and your mind gets, Bradley will always be there to fight by your side.

“Sweetheart?” Bradley called out as he unlocked the front door, walking into your shared house.

He had been out at the Hard Deck with Phoenix, Bob, Hangman, and the others. The group tried to make sure to meet up outside of work at least once a week or once every two weeks. And most of the time you went with them. But today, much like the past few days, you felt off. You struggled with depression growing up, and anxiety as well. Both were like a virus. Once one started, it grew and multiplied with the other.

It started with you being stressed about one little thing. It then turned into you comparing how you were managing the stress to how others would, and had. Doing so took a mental toll, and over time it grew inside your mind until it was nothing but fogs and shadows taking over, poisoning every good thought in your brain.

You were bored, but wanted to do nothing at the same time. Sometimes you would be hungry, but would have no desire to eat. Other times you would feel like going for a walk, but it felt like an invisible force was keeping you on yours and Bradley’s shared bed. The only sound you heard was Criminal Minds playing on the TV. You were slightly curled up as you laid on the bed, your arm being used as a pillow despite the actual pillows behind you.

It’s not as if you thought showing emotion meant weakness, but sometimes you thought the things you cried about when feeling this way were stupid. When attempting to eat a bowl of cereal earlier in the morning, a piece of it fell to the floor, bringing tears to your eyes. Little things like that happened throughout the past two days. Most of the time the moments just brought tears to your eyes, and sometimes you cried.

Right now, you felt as if you were in a dramatic scene in a film, where the single tear was glistening as it fell down the actor’s cheek.

While watching Criminal Minds, there was finally a happy moment throughout all of the bad. When you saw Spencer Reid with a bright and happy smile on his face, you felt a tear fall. And because you have the best luck, Bradley arrived in your shared room at the same time.

“Sweetheart?” He called again in more of a questioning manner this time, since you normally heard him when he walked through the front door.

When he saw the tears in your eyes, and the happiness on the television, he smiled softly, and walked over to you, sitting down next to where you were laying. He waited a moment before speaking, just running his fingers lightly through your hair in a comforting manner.

“Hard day?” He asked, looking down at you.

“Long day..” You mumbled in response, closing your eyes from the relaxation his hand running through your hair brought you.

“Aww, I’m sorry, honey.” He gave a sympathetic smile, and moved to sit behind you, pulling you so you were sitting up slightly, your back resting against his chest, and your head laying back on his shoulder comfortably. He situated his arms so that he was gently hugging you, allowing you to fidget with his fingers at the same time.

Bradley had been with you through a few moments like this throughout your time together. The first time, you tried to hide it from him. You didn’t want him to have to see you like that, let alone be around you while you acted differently. But he noticed the signs, having had similar moments like yours himself. Not just because of his job, but because of all he had been through over the years. So, now, whenever the two of you had a moment like this, you just made sure to be there for the other. If talking wasn’t wanted, then there would be no talking. And if space was needed, then space would be given, but for a reasonable amount of time.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bradley asked, turning his head to place a soft kiss on your temple.

“I don’t really know how to. It’s just the usual vicious cycle.” You grumbled in annoyance to the never ending cycle, to which Bradley laughed softly.

“Do I need to have a talk with this vicious cycle inside your beautiful mind?” Ignoring the slight blush on your cheeks to his compliment, you shook your head no with a small, amused smile. “No, no. I think I do.” He sat you up a little more, sitting up himself as well. Once comfortable again, he poked your head, and then kissed you on the head, keeping his lips there as he talked. “I got a bone to pick with you, vicious cycle. You see – you’re trespassing. You’re not welcome in my wife’s head. Be gone, demon.” He made quiet whooshing sounds, as if the demons were being expelled from your head. If only it were that easy, but at least with him you weren’t alone in your battle. You let out a soft laugh at his antics, to which he smiled. “There she is. See? There’s no harm in getting a little help in battle, especially if it’s from your amazing husband.” He said with a grin.

“And I assume your mustache is your secret weapon?” You asked with a small smile still lingering on your face. You loved his mustache, one of the many reasons Bradley always kept it how it was. Growing up you weren’t attracted to mustaches much, but when you first saw Bradley, you confirmed right away that it was one of your favorite things about him. Your brain did a whole reset.

“Well, it isn’t a secret now if you know.” He said jokingly.

“Does that mean you need to kill me?” You asked, turning your head to look at him.

“Nope, I just need to keep you close and never let you go.” He responded with an innocent and happy grin on his face, kissing you on the cheek. “Try to get some sleep now, sweetheart. You look tired, and the mind can be mentally draining sometimes.” He said softly, and you moved so that you were laying down.

“Will you stay with me?” You asked, knowing he needed to get up and change into comfy clothes, but not wanting him to leave the bed.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.” He smiled softly down at you, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your head. You muttered an ‘I love you’ like you usually did before falling asleep, and of course as usual he said it back before humming quietly, lulling you until you were taken over by only good dreams. No mind demons could get to you when Bradley was there to help cast them away.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw oneshot #rooster top gun #top gun maverick #top gun imagine

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planetpiastri · 1 year

Note

#1 with rooster bay bee <3

tell me why i've never in my life been more scared to write a blurb LMAO i hope i did him justice<33

1. losing something and the other picks it up and calls after them

word count - 1.5k

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen the Hard Deck this packed. As you and your best friend tried to squirm your way through the crowd, you felt an unusual wave of claustrophobia press in on you from the proximity of everyone around.

“Is Penny having an event or something?” you called over your shoulder, struggling to be heard over the crowd.

“Not that I remember,” your friend called back. “Must be a new wave of aviators—I guess there’s a mission coming up or something.”

You nodded in reply, trying to squeeze between two burly sailors, but they didn’t even notice you. As you stumbled back, your friend steadied you and said, “Listen, this place is a zoo. I’m gonna go try and find us a table—or even just a chair to share. You get us drinks. Sound good?”

You nodded, more frustrated than anything, and tried again to squeeze past the sailors. This time they did see you, and quickly shifted out of the way with some gallant, mumbled apologies. After what felt like ages, you finally arrived at the shiny, lacquered surface of the bar, slamming your palms down and claiming a space there. One of the guys next to you jumped at the sudden sound, doing a double-take, but you didn’t spare him a glance.

“Penny!” you yelped, flagging her down as she ran past. “What the hell is going on?”

You could tell it was busy because Penny had her hair pulled back with an untidy claw clip. Loose strands fell all around her face, and she was flushed, but smiling. Recognizing you, she quickly grabbed two bottles of you and your friend’s favorite beers and started to uncap them, saying, “TOPGUN called back a bunch of graduates, and they just succeeded in their mission with zero casualties. Seems like everybody and their Uncle Sam wants to buy them a congratulatory beer.”

You bit back a snarky retort, always mindful of the sign over Penny’s shoulder—specifically, the warning against disrespecting the navy. Instead, you said, “Well, cheers to that. I’ll have to give one of them a pat on the back.”

“I’ll take that pat,” said a voice next to you, and when Penny threw her head back and laughed, you knew you’d somehow been set up.

Bracing yourself, you turned to face the aviator next to you, and when you saw his face, all you said was, “Oh.”

He was tall and strong, and his brown hair was carefully trimmed and styled—all typical signs of an active-duty aviator. Even the mustache on his upper lip was pretty standard fare with navy men, though you had to admit you hadn’t seen it on anyone younger than your father in…ever, actually. But the thing that really made this man stand out was his clothes. He was wearing a basic white tank top tucked into a pair of blue jeans, with an extremely loud and obnoxious floral Hawaiian shirt worn on top. In all your time hanging around Fightertown and the Hard Deck, you’d never seen a detachment where ‘island tourist chic’ was part of the uniform.

If you’d been able to pull it together quicker, you’d have said something smart and impressive and witty, like, “Nice kit, lieutenant.” But he was looking at you with gentle brown eyes and a look on his face that left you dizzy, like the worst kind of cliche. And the last thing you’d said was, “Oh.”

Which was apt.

After another long moment where you were incapable of doing much else than stare dumbly at the pilot next to you, he broke into a smile—of course that just made him more gorgeous—and chuckled. “So I guess that’s a ‘no’ on the back-pat?”

“Congrats,” you said dumbly, and you watched as your hand, seemingly operating separate from the rest of you, reached out and clapped him soundly on the shoulder. He laughed again, and your face burned. You half hoped the floor of the Hard Deck would open up and swallow you right there.

You glanced back towards Penny, hoping for a lifeline, but of course she’d moved on to serve someone else.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” said the pilot, leaning closer to make himself heard over the crowd in the bar. You tried to play it cool and act like his proximity wasn’t sending excited chills up and down your spine.

“Then you must not come by very often,” you shot back, grinning. “I’m in here all the time.”

He wrinkled his nose like he was embarrassed, and it was your turn to chuckle, taking a drink from one of the beers Penny had given you. The pilot reached into his pocket and deftly pulled out a credit card, holding it between two fingers. He said, “I feel like that’s a fumble on my part. Can I buy your drinks?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Penny starting to walk back towards the two of you. Moving quickly, you set down the beer, grabbed your wallet, and scrambled for your own card, saying, “I’m perfectly capable. Thanks, though.”

You immediately regretted it when you saw his face fall incrementally. Great. He totally thought you’d just rejected him. And you had just rejected him. Ugh, this was not going well.

Penny took your card and then was gone again. Wanting to hurry up and escape this awkward interaction with this very attractive aviator, you shoved your wallet back into your pocket and picked up both beers with one hand, reaching out to take your card back when Penny returned.

“My friend is over there,” you said, gesturing vaguely in a direction. “I should probably get going. Nice to meet you, though. And congrats on the mission.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod, looking distracted. “Thanks.”

As you started to worm your way back through the crowd, you fought the urge to smack yourself on the forehead. How could he possibly have talked about fumbling? You were the one who had just fumbled! You had half a mind to turn back around, push back through the crowd, and forcefully introduce yourself, but something told you that’d just make it worse.

Oh, well. A few more beers and the handsome stranger in the Hawaiian shirt would be long forgotten.

You spotted your friend sitting out on the back deck and waved with your free hand, squeezing out the double doors at the back of the bar and stepping out onto the wooden boards. You opened your mouth to start talking about the flirting catastrophe at the bar, but realized your friend’s eyes were focused on something behind you.

Then you heard your name being called.

Oh, you have got to be kidding.

You turned around just as the pilot from the bar squeezed out the doors and jogged lightly towards you, his Hawaiian shirt flapping gently. He stopped in front of you, his cheeks the slightest bit pink, and held out his hand. Glancing down, you saw your ID.

“What—?” you said, bewildered.

“It fell out of your wallet,” he explained, a little breathless. “When you were rushing to reject me.”

“Oh my god,” you whispered, putting your free hand in front of your face as white-hot embarrassment flashed through your upper body. In spite of it, you couldn’t help but giggle. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just figured you’d need it.”

“Thank you so much,” you sighed, taking it from him gratefully and tucking it into your pocket. “Listen, about the bar—”

“It’s really okay,” he interrupted. “I shouldn’t have been so pushy. You were just trying to get a drink, it was busy and loud. I get it. I don’t want to be just another guy—whoa, what are you doing?”

You stepped close and reached right into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his phone and holding it towards him. “Open,” you ordered.

He did as you said and stammered, “What—uh—I mean—what are you—what’s going on?”

“I’m putting my number in your phone,” you said, hoping you sounded cooler than you felt. “This way we can talk somewhere that isn’t an overcrowded navy bar.”

“Like…a coffee shop or something?” he asked, his voice almost hopeful.

You smiled shyly. “Something like that. Here.” You handed him his phone back. “Use that so we can get a do-over.”

“Okay,” he said, really grinning now. “Okay, great. Cool. Awesome. I’ll call you.”

“You better,” you said.

He started to walk back towards the bar, looking down at the phone in his hand. He waved as he went and said, “See you later!”

“I didn’t catch your name!” you realized suddenly.

He shook his head, a teasing glint in his eye. “I didn’t give it.”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling too much and finally turned away, walking back to your friend with the beers that had seemed so important not that long ago. They watched you with a knowing smile, and when you sat down at the table, they asked coyly, “Who was that?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, taking a long drink. “But I think I’m gonna enjoy finding out.”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw top gun #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster fanfic #rooster imagine #rooster fic #rooster blurb #vinny fics

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