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ultram0th · 2 months ago

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December 25: Antoine Vaillant

00 │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21 │ 22 │ 23 │ 24 │ 25

Bodybuilder Antoine Vaillant’s phone lit up with a text: Merry Christmas!

Antoine fidgeted relentlessly at his desk, hissing under his breath as he typed up an email that he needed to send to a sponsor. His impressive gym-built biceps would jostle against the obscenely large pectorals that were attached his muscular chest every so often as he struggled to type on his keyboard, making the top-heavy hunk shudder. His trimmed beard did little to cover up the blush that was taking over his face. Speaking of which, the prickles from his jaw scrapping up against the tops of the hairy muscle mounds sent sparks of pleasure throughout him even more, rendering him nearly incapable of typing a single sentence. The dark hairs that covered his pecs only intensified the hypersensitivity, and the sensation of his button-down rubbing up against his hard, nubby nipples should have been enough to have him blow a load in his pants on the spot.

However, despite the near overwhelming pleasure the older bodybuilder was feeling at his desk, his rock hard seven inches refused to give him any release. Instead it throbbed as it was placed tightly against his muscled thighs.

The bodybuilder frowned as he looked in the mirror that was in his office. He took great care of himself and his body. As a professional bodybuilder, Antoine knew the ins and outs of the gym, and it clearly showed. At 6’0’’ and approximately 250 pounds of meaty muscle, he was a beast of a man. Plus, during his offseason, he’d allow all of that bulging muscle to be covered in manly hair. He’d loved to saunter around, clad in tight pants and form-fitting button-downs that allowed him to display his alpha status. He completely ruled the gym and the little office he’d worked in to take care of his social media accounts. Everyone knew that he was stud— a total man’s man.

However, instead of the alpha male he was used to seeing, Antoine hated the image reflected back at him. He still retained his hard-earned muscles and his handsome looks, but all of that took a backseat to the enormous pecs he possessed thanks to a certain Christmas wish.

The bodybuilder looked as if he were smuggling two basketballs underneath his shirt that was several times larger than his usual ones, but was still strained to bursting. He’d been unable to button up the top three buttons, allowing the deep hairy top cleavage of his muscletits to be on full display. His erect, nubby nipples poked against the fabric, looking like a pair of thumbs. His pecs were so huge that they ballooned outwards at the sides as well, completely engulfing his thick neck and making it appear as if his head was resting directly atop the muscle mounds. His giant pectorals completely ruined his manly and proportional physique, causing him to come off as some freakshow who has beachball-sized pec implants.

But even more embarrassing for the stud was how sensitive they now were. It felt as if all of his body’s erogenous zones had traveled throughout Antoine’s body to center in solely on his pecs, with the epicenters being his nubby nipples. Sensations as simple as his shirt rubbing up the hairy mounds felt as good as masturbation, and Antoine’s cock always rocketed to life whenever his massive arms accidentally brushed up against his muscletits (which was often).

But that wasn’t the worst part…

“Mr. Vaillant?” a light voice called as Erik, a college intern helping to manage his socials, poked his youthful face into the bodybuilder’s office. “Your sponsor wanted me to remind you that you need to make a post of the new protein powder.”

Ever since what had happened, Antoine couldn’t help but admire some of the other men in the gym. He hated how jittery he’d get whenever he’d see another man’s pecs (which were obviously much smaller than his) pressing against their shirt or when he’d spot the large bulge in a guy’s pants.

As he looked at Erik, he couldn’t help but admire the green tint to the young man’s eyes or how full his lips looked. The guy must’ve been an athlete in school, because his trimmed frame had some toned muscles that were still pretty sizable, albeit nowhere near as huge as the champion bodybuilder’s.

Antoine’s blush deepened when he saw the twenty-one year old guy’s green eyes try their best to avoid his huge pecs. “Tell them I’ll do it tomorrow,” he grunted, waving the skinny guy away with a buff arm. “And it’s 1930. Go home.”

Erik nodded, not-so-subtilely taking one last look at the older man’s muscletits before turning around. “Yes, Sir,” he said. “Have a nice weekend.” He left and closed the door behind him.

Antoine just huffed and slammed himself away from his desk, desperate for release. As he walked to the parking garage, Antoine tried to ignore the sight of his reflection in the car windows that showed his altered posture that had to account for the heavy muscle mounds. He walked with his back arched with shoved his pecs out into the open, as if advertising them for more to stare at. Even worse was that there was a slight bounce to them with every step the stud took, making his nipples rub up his shirt over and over again, his knees going weak.

The muscle hunk hopped in his truck and barely had time to close the door behind him before his frantic fingers undid the buttons of his shirt, desperate to give his sensitive chest some much-needed relief. Antoine practically tore his shirt away from his hairy torso, his inflated pecs heaving as he sighed deep breaths of relief, his larger nipples still burning with desperate want.

“This is getting real fuckin’ old,” Antoine groaned aloud as he struggled to catch his breath, his hard cock twitching wildly in his pants. Despite how irritated he was, he was also so incredibly horny, his sensitive pecs sometimes clouding over his frustration.

The top-heavy DILF took a moment to adjust his seat in his truck, having a little difficulty with his inflated pecs pressing against the horn on the steering wheel a few times. Antoine still wasn’t used to driving with his arms fighting to reach the wheel with his enlarged chest constantly getting in the way. He would have figured that after a few days, he’d be semi-accustomed to it, but he still gasped and whimpered loudly whenever his biceps would graze a nubby nipple whenever he turned the wheel. The rumbling from the powerful engine sent rippling vibrations throughout the truck, constantly making his pecs jiggle the slightest bit, which was shockingly enough to send little darts of pleasure throughout the stud. He had began to unwisely drive without his seatbelt, risking the ticket because whenever he wore it, the strap slipped deep into his cleavage and made him howl like a slut.

Doing his best to ignore the feeling his hypersensitive pecs brought him, Antoine drove straight home. Every so often when he’d be at a red light, the stud would grope his massive chest for a while, moaning loudly like a slut as he played with his tits. He’d be so caught up in the euphoric sensations that emanated from his sensitive muscletits, that he’d only be knocked out of it whenever the car behind him would honk because the light had turned green.

The embarrassed stud sped the rest of the way home, practically sprinting inside once he arrived.

Inside, Antoine barely fared any better. His massive pecs kept jiggling with every movement he made, and they kept getting in the way as he tried to cook himself dinner. No matter what he did, Antoine was helpless to do anything besides stimulate his sensitive chest, which led to him ceasing all of his nightly chores in order to just feel himself up.

As he gripped handfuls of his tits and gave them a squeeze, Antoine couldn’t hold back the low moans that bellowed out of his muscled frame. His face was bright red with humiliation, but the embarrassment he felt paled in comparison to the intense surges of pleasure that his muscletits brought him. His nipples were almost worse— every time he brushed up against them, his knees buckled and his cock throbbed even harder.

As he played with his chest, Antoine couldn’t help but think back to how this had all started. He’d been asked by some random Santa Claus out on the street what he’d wanted for Christmas. The bodybuilder had playfully replied with, “A big set of tits.”

Then the rest was history.

The morning after the interaction, Antoine had been horrified to wake up and discover that his pecs had magically been inflated to nearly four times their normal size.

Antoine’s masturbation session was interrupted when he heard a knock at the door, making the top-heavy bodybuilder groan with annoyance. “What?” he barked out impatiently, his nubby nipples burning with want as soon as he let go out of his muscletits.

“Mr. Vaillant! It’s me, Erik!” the small voice of his tiny assistant called out from the other side of the front door. “You forgot to take the product home with you for your posts!”

Antoine sighed but opened up the door nonetheless. Like clockwork, as soon as he stared at the younger stud in his doorway, he could feel his cock twitch a little more and his nipples continued to burn with want.

Erik, in turn, couldn’t help but not-so-subtly stare at his boss’s inflated chest, the bulge in the front of his khakis starting to harden. His cock lengthened down his leg and he hungrily licked his lips at the sight of Antoine’s huge, hairy muscletits that were out in the open.

Despite having his warped pecs out for the younger guy to gawk at, Antoine couldn’t deny the surge of lust that he felt. “Fuck it,” he grunted as he grabbed Erik’s hand and yanked him inside.

Antoine dropped to his knees and fished Erik’s uncut seven inch cock out of his pants. The bodybuilder leaned forward and thrusted his inflated chest out more, sliding his assistant’s cock deep into the cleavage of his pecs.

“OOhhhhh!” Antoine moaned loudly as a slut as the younger man pecfucked him. The bodybuilder grabbed the back of Erik’s toned butt and kept him in place as he thrusted himself up against his cock, driving it deeper into his pec cleavage.

Nothing he’d ever done compared to the intense sensations that Antoine was feeling from his chest now. No sex he’d ever had with a woman nor playing with his own pecs was even close to the same. Sure he was embarrassed over his actions and over having his perfect musculature warped into a top-heavy caricature, but Antoine couldn’t bring himself to truly mind in the moment.

If walking around with ultra-sensitive muscletits that were way too big and cumbersome for his bodybuilder physique meant that he could get pecfucked by cute guys, then he was game.

His moans grew into pleasured cries as Erik reached down and began to thumb the bodybuilder’s nubby nipples.

Erik tensed up and came, blowing his load all over Antoine’s heavy tits, coating them in his spunk. Antoine’s forgotten cock had already blown its own load and was already hard and ready for a second round.

“Holy shit,” Erik panted as he leaned down and gave one of Antoine’s big muscletits a playful squeeze. “Merry Christmas, Antoine.”

Antoine shuddered at the feeling of his chest being squeezed, and all he could do was respond with a bellowing moan.

#advent calendar #tf #ultram0th #antoine vaillant #bodybuilder #muscle #straight to gay #pecs #pec growth #Christmas #wish gone wrong

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taro-bae · 6 months ago

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hiiii :3 can u do a can you make a fic with twst characters reacting if reader (fem or gn, idc) fall asleep in their's room? thank u! anon 🌲

Hii, thank you for the request! I'll split it up in year groups!

Twisted Wonderland - First Years

Summary: reacting to you falling asleep in their room

Characters: first years (no ortho)

CW/Notes: gn!reader, fluff, no warnings

Deuce Spade

Deuce walked into his room, coming to a stop when he saw someone lying in his bed. He notices that it's you immediately blushing, unable to move. The hest rising to his cheeks. He walks up to your silhouette carefully, not to wake you up. You are sleeping peacefully, and he doesn't want to disturb you. He's flustered but happy inside that you find his room comfortable enough to sleep in. He sits down on the chair that stands near a desk beside his bed. He quietly observed your face, how how look with your cheek flushed on his pillow. He thinks you look like an angle, that he must protect. He will not wake you up but will stay watching you, his fast heartbeat being the only audible thing in the room.

When you start to stir awake, he perks up, feeling a bit akward because he was staring at you the whole time. "H-hey, you're awake?" He says in a whipser. "Did you sleep alright?" He is still red in the cheeks, the tips of his ears heating up in contrast to his blue hair. "W-why are you in my room?" he asks curiously but doesn't actually mind you being here. You refused to get up still groggy from sleep, he decides to join you. Deuce keeps a respectful distance not to overstep your boundaries or comfort. But when he feels you cuddle into him, he melts. His heart is pounding in his chest, but he is in heaven.

Ace Trappola

Ace is a bit of an asshole. He walked into his room, taking off his jacket when he noticed you asleep. "Oi, what are you doing here?" He's shocked and secretly flustered that you are in his room right now. Ace approaches the bed, throwing the jacket onto his chair as he watches you with crossed arms, I'm his head he is thinking if he should wake you up or not. He waits until he calms down, making sure his blush is free from your sight.

He shakes your shoulder with one hand, "Don't you have your own bed to sleep in..." When you wake up and look at him, he has a subtle pout on his face trying to maintain a smug expression. "Did you miss me that much, huh?" He cannot go without teasing you even for a minute. "Move." He gets on the bed with you, throwing his arms over your shoulder other hand behind his head, trying to keep his cool.

Jack Howl

Jack returns after his track and field training, he's gotta keep that fitness up. His room is surrounded with weights and training equipment, as well as some protein powders. His beastman senses detected you before he opened the door to his room. His ears are perked up on his as his tail wags behind him subtlety. He walks into his room, all sweaty from working out, watching your peacefully sleeping silhouette. He does not want to bother you.

Instead, he let's you sleep seeing how worn out you must be. He leaves you be, going to take a shower and get changed. Don't let his serious demeanour fool you, he's full in his protective guard dog mode. He will watch over you sleeping, noting that you are vulnerable and blissfully unaware of your surroundings currently. Therefore, he must protect you. He is respectful of giving you your space, but if you invite him to join you, his tail will give away exactly how he's feeling. Cuddle him.

Epel Felmier

He walks in, tired from Vils nagging and beauty routines all day, letting out a yawn himself. He stops with a "what the-" when he finds you sleep on his bed. He sees that you are cuddling his poison apple plushie. "Yer really came 'ere?" He says mostly to himself as he approaches closer analysing your sleeping form. In his head he's wondering, "Did studying wear em out that much?"

Sebek Zigvolt

He's conflicted on what he should do. On one side, he wants to he that plushie in your hands. The masculine side of him wants to hold you and protect you from anything that comes your way. He sits down on the bed watching your face. He eventually gives in, lying beside you and holding you in his arms. He wants to feel like a man, and currently, he has the urge to hold you like you're his and his alone.

Might accidentally wake you up. He's loud.

Sebek finishes his day of classes and protecting Malleus. He comes into his room rather late. The only light source is a faint green light above the bed in his room. His initial reaction is defensive, he recognises a human form in his bed and instinctively yells out, "Who dares to be in here?!" Before realising it's actually you. In his head, he thinks, "hmph, i suppose they must be really tired if they chose to slumber here."

Sebek is very dutiful, he'll make it his mission to make sure you get enough sleep and rest well. He will stay on guard while you do, and he will consider it his training exercise. Occasionally, he will observe your face he can't help but feel fascinated and proud that you feel comfortable to fall asleep in his room.

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jockbroski34 · 7 months ago

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AlterEgo

The last thing I expected on my 20th birthday was to receive a gift from Cody, my roommate. We were never close, and there was no way in hell he actually knew much about me to know it was my birthday without me telling him. Him and I were basically complete opposites. While I was your typical nerd, smart, introverted, and so on, he was basically your typical jock in all the worst ways. He was boisterous, arrogant, and a total meathead. We mostly agreed to stay out of each others’ way, considering our irreconcilable differences, but that didn’t stop him from being a massive pain in the ass. His room was constantly in a state of disarray, with sweaty clothes scattered all over the place. As such, I often avoided being anywhere near his room if necessary since it smelled like a locker room. He often invited over his “bros” who were just as bad. Whether they were hogging the TV to watch whatever game was on, smuggling alcohol into our dorm to get wasted, or playing catch in the fucking living room, they were always a nuisance. And whenever I brought any of that up to him, he would always end up saying something like “It’s not that serious, dude. We were just having a good time.” Yeah, a good time at my expense. Whoever assigned the two of us to live together must’ve thought this was some twisted joke.

I woke up at 9 AM, still a little tired from last night. I hung out at one of my friends’ dorms to celebrate my birthday. I yawned, and went to the kitchen to make some breakfast. I saw Cody was up as well, his legs spread across the couch, to the point that he was taking up two seats, watching something on the TV that was several volume levels too loud for me.

“Hey bro, today’s your birthday right?” Cody asked, as he tilted his head to face me.

“Uhh, yeah. How did you know?” I responded.

“Oh don’t worry about it, bro. Happy birthday!” I saw him get up and run to his disorganized room, likely to grab something for me. I could see a pair of worn gym shorts on the floor through the crack in the door. He pulled out an old Nike shoe box, since he likely had nothing better to put a gift in. “I’ve been saving this for you. I hope you like it!” Is this his way of trying to get on my good side?

I rolled my eyes since I doubt he got me anything I would enjoy. He probably just got me something that he’d enjoy, like some tight-fitting tank top or protein powder or something. Not that I work out or anything. The only gift I’d want from him is for him to stop being a douche. I opened the box and I was surprised about what I saw. It was a video game. Not any that I’d ever heard of. I looked at the box art and the words AlterEgo were written in a wacky, colorful font.

“Yeah, I knew you like video games, so I found this for you. I heard on the internet that it’s pretty nitch…nichy…what’s the word…”

“Niche?” I responded. I had to admit, him struggling to pronounce the word right was a little amusing. As amusing as being with a simpleton like him could be.

“That’s the word! I got it for myself, but I realized like half an hour in that it wasn’t my thing. I’m happy with what I have right now. I figured you’d probably get more out of it than me.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem, dude. Anyways, I gotta hit the gym. I’m gonna be out all day so you have the PS5 all to yourself. Hope you enjoy it bro!”

I watch him leave, thankful to have some peace and quiet. As I ate breakfast, I read the back of the cover in order to figure out what this game was about.

“Become a new you! In this life simulation adventure, you can become any kind of person you want and live any way you choose. Control your fictional avatar, your AlterEgo, and level up your stats to become closer to your true self.”

The game seemed something like The Sims or Animal Crossing, but with some stat progression system. It was a game that I had never heard of, but it could be some hidden gem. The rest of the back was filled with screenshots from the game with the cartoony characters doing activities such as cooking, jogging, and riding a motorcycle. I figured I might as well try the game since I did get it for free. Even if it was from Cody, I wasn’t one to refuse someone’s generosity.

I put the game in the disk slot and booted it up. The title screen had that same logo and some bubbly background music. I pressed the start button and I was presented with a save selection screen. I noticed that Cody’s save was on there, which was odd because I was playing on my account. I knew I should’ve put a password on it. I wanted to make my own character, but part of me was curious about the character that he made. Knowing him, I can only guess. His game time was less than an hour, as he was only on Day 1, and he likely spent most of that time on the character creation screen.

I started his save and my character was sitting in his room. At this point, it was very bare, with only a bed and a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered around the room. I guess the character starts by moving into their new home? I went into the menu to find more information about the character. The character was named Cody obviously and his AlterEgo somewhat matched him too. I went into the stats screen and I was greeted by a tutorial.

“Here you can check your AlterEgo’s stats. You have already set your initial growth modifiers and assigned your base stats. If you need a refresher, whatever stats you chose your AlterEgo to excel at are highlighted in red and the ones you chose to trade off are highlighted in blue. This means that your AlterEgo will grow in the stats in red much faster and prioritize activities that increase those stats and avoid activities associated with increasing your stats in blue. As you play, your AlterEgo will naturally develop into one of hundreds of potential archetypes based on the activities that they excel at. Experiment and see who you become!”

I looked at the stat screen and saw a list of stats with a bar indicating percentage level. The stats included Strength, Constitution, Dexterity, Intelligence, Wisdom, Courage, Charisma, and Luck. Not too far off from DnD I guess. It seemed like he chose to have Strength and Constitution as his highest stats as their font was colored red and Intelligence and Wisdom as his weakest stats as they were colored in blue. Gee, why am I not surprised… Cody was anything but a genius. It seemed like he had 20 initial points to allocate wherever he chose with a default limit of 5. And I was equally not surprised to find that my meathead roommate chose to put 5 in Strength and Constitution again like a barbarian. It’s like all he cared about was his looks and perceived masculinity, even in game.

Strength (physical strength): 5

Constitution (physical build and stamina): 5

Dexterity (agility and flexibility): 2

Intelligence (knowledge): 0

Wisdom (intuition and discipline): 0

Courage (risk-taking and bravery): 3

Charisma (social skills): 3

Luck (good or bad fortune): 2

After looking through his stats, I decided enough was enough and I didn’t really want to go around pretending I was Cody the whole game. I quit out of his save and went back to the title screen. I was back on the save select screen when I became confused. There was still one save, except the name of the character wasn’t Cody…it was mine? The play time was set to 0 minutes. I don’t know how that happened, but if it saves me the trouble of building a character and reading more tutorials, I’m happy.

To my relief, the avatar representing Cody wasn’t there. Instead, a very generic, average character stood in its place in the same room. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was some placeholder account with everything set to the default. Whatever, I can probably change stuff about him later. I decided to move my AlterEgo outside and I was greeted by a map of a large city. I chose an area of the map to explore at random and controlled my new avatar. On the busy city street, there was a cafe, restaurant, and a gym. It was too early for the cafe and restaurant to open, so I guess my only option here is the gym. I’ve never stepped foot in a gym before, but this character doesn’t have to represent me as a whole. Plus, I’d like my character to be well-rounded unlike Cody’s who would probably spend the whole time grinding here.

I went into the gym and had to perform a set of quick-time events. First, I had to do some bench presses. Then some squats. Then finally, run on a treadmill. At the end of it, my AlterEgo did a cartoony celebration and flexed his arms. A pop-up showing that my Strength, Constitution, and Dexterity went up by 1, followed up by another one saying that my Strength and Constitution will double every time I do activities like go to the gym. So it looks like Cody’s modifiers carried over after all despite everything seeming to be the default. That should’ve been the first thing I checked. I didn’t want my character to be specced to be some lumbering brute. I suppose that if I wanted to get my character’s Intelligence and Wisdom, it’d probably be like playing on Hard mode. Honestly, I was open to the challenge.

I was disappointed to find out that it’d be harder than it seemed. When my character got home in the evening, I went into one of his boxes and I was presented with an option to read. I was presented with several options, ranging from comics to full-on novels. I chose the novel since I figured it would raise my Intelligence the best. I watched my AlterEgo try to read the book, but I saw a look of confusion on his face. Eventually, he grew frustrated and threw the book back into the empty box as if he were shooting through a basketball hoop. I expected my Intelligence to stay the same, but no, it actually dropped!

“Sometimes when your AlterEgo fails to complete an activity, their stats can decrease! These stats can even go into the negative. Make sure to keep your stats high because it can become very difficult to increase your stats if they fall below a certain point.”

I couldn’t believe that my character struggled to even read. This guy was nothing like me at all! I hoped that it would be easier to raise my AlterEgo’s Intelligence because I didn’t want him to be a moron. I watched my character fall asleep and I could see into his dream. Another tutorial popped up.

“Sometimes your character will have dreams! These dreams are mostly random, but will also depend on your character’s stats. Just like other activities, you have a chance to increase your stats.”

I watched my character fight in a zombie apocalypse, but the zombies didn’t even look remotely threatening. I succeeded in the activity and my Courage went up by 2 and my Luck and Strength went up by 1. My character wiped his head of sweat as the zombies turned to dust.

The next day, I learned that my AlterEgo can go to school. That was expected, considering my character’s age, only I didn’t realize how hard it would be for him. He was sitting in a desk trying to write down notes. Eventually, like an idiot, he slammed his thick head on his desk and started snoring. This was honestly getting embarrassing. My Intelligence and Wisdom dropped yet again, not by 1, but by 2. If I didn’t do something different, my AlterEgo would basically be a clone of Cody instead of myself. After class, instead of being given an option to go and do something, my AlterEgo is approached by a group of buff men.

Quarterback: Hey new guy, you’re looking pretty strong. Judging from your Strength and Constitution, I think you’d make a good fit for the football team. Your Dexterity and Courage also seem pretty good. Wanna join, bro?

You know who else played football? Cody. I had to keep being reminded of him even when he wasn’t even around. This was my character and I didn’t care about sports, so I clicked the no option. To my surprise, my AlterEgo nodded instead. It's like this game is going out of its way to spite me at this point. Two tutorials popped up.

“If your Wisdom is too low, your AlterEgo might act on their own desires rather than your command. This means that they can sometimes act on their own or select activities that they are more interested in rather than those they are not. Raise your Wisdom or else you will have less freedom when developing your AlterEgo.”

“You have decided to join a club or organization. This will grant you a passive growth to certain stats every week.”

I watched as my AlterEgo walked away with the group of jocks. A football uniform magically appeared over his normal clothes. For joining the football team, I was granted a point in Strength, Constitution, Courage, and Charisma every week, with the usual double for Strength and Constitution.

I kept playing the game, getting frustrated at my AlterEgo’s reluctance to even try to act smart or reasonable. He frequently avoided or skipped intellectual pursuits to focus on those that made him look or feel good. It honestly just felt random whether he wanted to obey me or not. By the end of Day 7, the first week my stats were looking like this.

Strength: 30

Constitution: 28

Dexterity: 10

Intelligence: -20

Wisdom: -15

Courage: 21

Charisma: 17

Luck: 16

My Intelligence and Wisdom seemed unfixable. My AlterEgo wouldn’t even bother to try to read or pay attention at school and he consistently started to make random choices that satisfied his needs as the week progressed. I grew incredibly frustrated at this, but out of curiosity, I wanted to see if there was an end to this so I could go back and make my own character. Either way, this game was plagued with questionable design choices. It’s like the AlterEgo was already locked into a specific path. I hoped that I had accidentally skipped a tutorial or something and that I hadn’t softlocked myself out of raising certain stats. Unfortunately, my AlterEgo’s stats continued to grow and drop as I hit Day 30.

Strength: 75

Constitution: 69

Dexterity: 44

Intelligence: -66

Wisdom: -49

Courage: 54

Charisma: 37

Luck: 41

I received another tutorial message on Day 31.

“You look like you are on track to evolve into your archetype very soon! By this point, your AlterEgo’s stats will be locked in place. That will be the end of the main story, but there is still so much to enjoy afterwards!”

I figured I might as well see this through to the end. You know, see how much of an idiot my character can become. Despite my efforts, all my AlterEgo does now is work out, practice and go to games, and go to parties, outside of necessities. His Intelligence is so low that he rarely even goes to school anymore and that has caused his intelligence to plummet to the bottom. I played for even longer, eventually hitting Day 60. Turns out that this is the day I would discover my AlterEgo’s archetype.

“Congratulations on making it this far. I hope you are excited to find out your archetype, because I know I am! Remember that these changes are permanent, so there will no longer be ways to increase or decrease your stats.”

I watched my AlterEgo marched onto the stage and I was able to view my final stats and a rating of each of them. The descriptions seemed to be heavily based on my other stats, and trust me, they were very satirical, and in my case, very scathing.

Strength: 100

I’d give this an A+. I’m not even sure if you are human anymore. I’ve seen you lift things that no normal man could, not because you have to, but because you want to. You spend more time at the gym than you do at your own house and you might give The Hulk a run for his money.

Constitution: 100

You also get an A+. Your months of training at the gym have given you a perfect, chiseled body that looks like it could be made out of iron. You have a seemingly endless supply of testosterone and your stamina (in more ways than one, it seems) cannot be beaten.

Dexterity: 75

This gets a B. You are very athletic and quick on your feet despite your appearance. However, your large size means that you can be pretty clumsy and you’ve probably broken more things than you’d like to admit.

Intelligence: -100

I’ll just go along with your teachers and give you a big fat F. Are you even trying? I worry that there’s not a single thought going around in your thick skull. You care very little for anything intellectual or sophisticated, not that you even know what those words mean.

Wisdom: -90

Likewise, you also get another big fat F. Were you dropped on your head when you were a baby or did you take too many tackles to your cranium? You have incredibly poor judgment and you only make decisions that satisfy your brutish desires. In short, you often act before you think. Your lack of discipline is only matched by your lack of brain cells. As long as you’re having fun, should I really care what you do with your life?

Courage: 90

I’d give this an A, but not an A+. Because your brain moves too slow to process any risk, you often think before you act. You often find yourself in the most dangerous of situations and you often perform incredibly stupid stunts. When you’re on the field, you’re a risk taker, and at least it usually pays off. On the bright side, you always come out unscathed, so I can commend that.

Charisma: 70

I’d give this a B-. Being on the football team and being very attractive is going to place a lot of eyes on you, but they are all focused on your body because everything else you have to offer is very superficial. I wonder if you surround yourself with people who think and act the same as you do or if people keep you around to laugh at every stupid word that comes out of your mouth.

Luck: 80

Lastly, you get a B. Your luck genuinely amazes me sometimes. Despite everything, despite your lack of any intellectual thought or reasoning, you have survived long enough to make it this far in life. This alone proves that life favors some over others. If there is room for the concept of a higher power in your shrunken headspace, then they probably feel a sense of amusement at the state of you bumbling around through life with only your good looks and muscles salvaging you.

“What do you think? Are you happy with your results? Anyhow, it’s time to reveal your archetype. It’s who you are and who you will be from now on! Drumroll please… (As if it wasn’t obvious enough…) You, my friend, are…THE JOCK!”

The Jock

You are likely an athlete or bodybuilder and you likely care little for intellectual thought. You enjoy playing and watching sports and working out above anything else. You are hyper-masculine, aggressive, arrogant, and egotistical. However, you are also very muscular, tall, athletic, popular, and handsome. You feel a deep sense of camaraderie with anyone you consider your bro, which mostly includes other jocks like yourself. Your wardrobe mostly consists of tank tops, jerseys, varsity jackets, shorts, sweatpants, jockstraps, baseball caps, sneakers, and everything in between. Because of your high testosterone and your above average genitals, you are viewed as a desirable partner and often partake in sexual activities with members of the opposite sex, and sometimes even other men depending on the person and situation. Your most likely career path is as an athlete or coach, but as long as it doesn’t require too much deep thinking, you could probably find a job anywhere with your connections and attractiveness. Enjoy your new self!

I watched my AlterEgo vanish within a cloud of smoke and come out a cartoonish representation of your average stereotypical jock with blonde hair and a very lunkish, yet admittedly impressive build. He looked around, clearly disoriented, with a dull, confused look on his face before flexing with a cheesy, confident smirk on his face. The audience cheered and clapped at this ridiculous personification of a walking stereotype as if they were watching a magic show. Honestly, it was almost amusing how the description it gave for “me” couldn’t possibly be more wrong. It sounded like everything Cody was, not me. Although I guess I was playing with his settings, not by choice I will add, but I had little control over how my AlterEgo decided to live its life. I just wish I could get him off my mind for just one day. Either way, I found myself incredibly dissatisfied with my new AlterEgo, but I accidentally found out a way to make things even worse for me. I just wanted to scroll through the remaining text to get to the credits, since I have been playing for 8 hours by now, when I saw a selection that would seal my fate.

“Are you satisfied with your result? Now that you’ve discovered who you truly are, are you ready to be The Jock in the real world? WARNING: If you select Yes, your save will be deleted as a result. These changes are permanent. If you click No, you can continue playing after the credits.”

I accidentally clicked Yes as I was mashing through the text. What the hell was I thinking?! I had no idea that this would change the entire trajectory of my life. At first I felt nothing, as the screen faded to black. Then, I saw the credits start to roll, playing a remix of the joyful title screen music, and that’s when I started to feel all warm inside and I felt a painful shock come from my controller.

I felt a sudden wave of pain rush through my body as my bones started to crack and shift in my body and my muscles began to inflate like balloons. I looked at the credits and noticed that the new jock AlterEgo was doing the things he normally enjoyed doing in the background. But I couldn’t really concentrate on it as I found myself focusing down below. My legs stretched and stretched until I was around 6’4. My feet grew to a size 15 and my thick glutes and ass made me sink deeper into the couch from their weight. The fat in my stomach felt like it was melting as it left behind nothing more than a layer of sweat and a firm six pack of abs. My upper chest formed into a round set of bouncy pecs. Likewise, my biceps and triceps were almost the size of my head now and my soft hands became rough and covered in calluses from intense lifting. I felt my clothes cling tightly to my body as if they were two sizes too small, and they’d easily rip if my body grew any more. My shirt fit more like a crop top on me and my clothes were damp from pit and ass sweat.

I felt my long hair recede into my head until it formed into a shorter cut that was much easier to maintain. As it did that, my chestnut-colored locks lightened into a golden blonde. My soft, round eyes became more sharp and masculine and I could feel them turn from a chocolate brown into an icy shade of blue. My youthful face lost most of its baby fat and buried beneath it was nothing more than the chiseled edges of my jawline. The lower half of my face, which used to be soft and hairless, was now covered in a prickly lawn of stubble. Even my pasty skin turned a shade tanner from the years I spent in the sun throwing balls around. I noticed that my entire body started to sweat profusely to the point that I could smell my own musk and I became absorbed by my new-found masculine scent. I could smell the testosterone that was pumping through my veins like a drug. I felt powerful, dominant, virile, and dare I say it, good… Lastly, I found my lips contort into an obnoxious, conceited smirk. Was I…enjoying this? Judging from the growing feeling in my groin, I was led to believe that I was. And it kept growing and growing and growing…

All the while, the credits continued to play and the happy-go-lucky music felt like it was mocking my painful situation. Despite the strange pleasure I felt, it was only a distraction as my body still writhed in pain through the whole process while I changed entirely into a real life manifestation of my AlterEgo. What the hell is this game? I noticed that the jock avatar stared directly towards the screen, as if he was breaking the fourth wall, and started to walk closer and closer before vanishing from his virtual prison for good. The lively credits started to simmer down, giving the screen a more empty and disquieting feeling. That was the last thing I noticed before I felt a sharp headache ring through my head. I am usually fine playing games for a long period of time so why…Why did my roommate buy me this game anyways, bro? If he was gonna buy me any game, he should’ve gotten me the new CoD or Madden game, not this weird shit. I had to admit, it was kinda addicting. I liked being able to work out or play sports even when I’m at home. Wait, what was that? I felt like I just heard another voice in my head, both sounding similar yet different to my own. Eventually he called out directly to me.

“Hey bro, it’s me. Your AlterEgo. You know, the real you. It’s been fun, dude. Now I get to enter the real world, isn’t that sick? So here’s what’s gonna happen, dude. I am currently inside your mind and I’m making the final changes to turn you into the person you were always meant to be. That’s right dude, we are becoming one singular person in both body and mind. Don’t try to struggle or fight back. You know I’m stronger than you. There’s no going back. So, are you ready to become one with your true self?

No…I thought to myself. I wasn’t a jock. I was never a jock. I’m nothing like my AlterEgo. This is a mistake. This was Cody’s AlterEgo, not mine!

“Chill out, bro. I know you read the warning and you clicked Yes, so you obviously knew the risk. Why did you keep playing if you knew you’d become a jock regardless of the decisions you made? Because you are one deep down. Or maybe you secretly wanted to be one. Maybe you wanted to see what life was like on the other side. Maybe this Cody guy wanted you to try out this save, you know, to see what would happen... Whatever reasoning, it really doesn’t matter dude. I know you can feel me taking over your mind. You’re finding it harder to think. Soon you’ll be The Jock, me. I just wish you realized a little sooner who you really were…”

I felt my brain starting to shut off and my vision starting to become blurry as my AlterEgo took it over. I don’t even know how any of this is possible, even by today’s standards. An AI buried deep within the game was taking over my body and mind entirely, reshaping me in his image. But I continued to resist, to cling onto whatever parts of my personality I could. However, as I felt my mind sink deeper and deeper into this mental void, I felt myself slowly becoming more and more like The Jock. The archetype that was decided on, not by me, but for me. Until that’s all I was.

Everything turned black for a few seconds. I slowly regained consciousness as my brain rebooted itself. Wait…what’s a reboot? I sat and watched the credits with a dim look on my face as it finally ended. I was booted back to the title screen and saw that my save was indeed deleted. This was proof that my AlterEgo was now a part of me and that he was finally whole. I pulled out my phone wanting to learn more about this game, because, dude, it was kinda fucking weird. By scrolling, I couldn’t find much, but I did discover a post from not too long ago on some ancient forum site that was probably made in the early 2000s.

“Is The Game AlterEgo Real?”

“I’ve heard rumors about this game called AlterEgo, but I have very little information on it. It’s said to be incredibly dangerous and could lead to permanent bodily and mental changes. Throughout all of my research, I could not find any copy of the game for sale, nor any definitive proof that it’s real or any information on the company that developed it. If you have any information on this game, please let me know.”

I skimmed through the forum page, not that interested in reading what everyone had to say. Who has time for that anyways? But I did find one reply that caught my eye.

“I can confirm with certainty that AlterEgo does exist. My friend received it as a gift for Christmas and he wouldn’t stop talking about it to me. It’s like he was addicted. A week later, when I saw him next, I could barely even recognize him. His body had grown and changed greatly and he didn’t act like his usual self. I even feel like his memories might be a little distorted. I tried checking his house to find the game in order to figure out what it was all about, but I don’t think he has it anymore. He probably sold it or gave it away since he said he finished it. No matter what, he won’t tell me. If there are any other copies of the game left, please let me know.”

Woah, so this game is fucking weird, dude. Wasn’t just me. I just played it right? But I don’t feel any different. You know, I bet these nerds would pay a lot for a chance to find out about this game. Maybe they might come out as different people. I’ll put it up on eBay for a high price. One of those dweebs just has to take the bait. I wouldn’t mind a little cash though. I’d feel bad for selling Cody’s gift, but just imagine what I could get with that much money.

“Hey bro, you still in here dude?” I heard a familiar voice shout as they opened the door.

“Yo Cody, there you are. What’s up dude?” I was happy to see him. Cody was my roommate and my best friend. We were practically inseparable. When he made eye contact with me, his eyes widened. I couldn’t really blame him for being impressed with my awesome body.

“You beat that game I gave you already?” He seemed surprised, yet almost impressed.

“Yeah, it’s not usually my type, but I enjoyed it dude.”

“Do you…feel any different, bro?” Cody sounded kinda hesitant there. Had he read about the rumors too? I don’t see why he’d have to worry. None of those rumors are true anyways.

“Nah, same as I’ve always been.”

“Alright, good. I was just making sure you were down to get some food. You should be out partying and celebrating your birthday, not playing some nerdy video game. And trust me, I know all the good spots.”

“You’re right bro. I haven’t gotten enough exercise in today. Let’s go.”

“Wait, before you go, your clothes are so sweaty dude. You should change.”

“Oh shit, good idea.”

“Y-you can just wear one of my clothes. They’d probably fit you better.” He was right. As I soon realized, someone shrunk all my clothes as part of a prank.

Me and Cody went to a sports bar to watch the game. If I remember correctly, this was our favorite spot to get food, except you know, anywhere that lets me hit my macros. Since it was my birthday, he even paid for the whole meal. I don’t remember how long I’ve known him, but couldn’t ask for a better bro. On the way home, Cody grabbed a six pack of beer from the frat house and brought it to our dorm to drink the night away. I wasn’t old enough to drink, but it’s not like I never had alcohol before. And besides, today was basically my cheat day.

We got wasted while we watched TV, and we did some things that I probably wouldn’t admit to anyone but him. I couldn’t help it though. I hadn’t gotten laid all weekend and it was my birthday. Quite frankly, I deserved it. Thankfully Cody took one for the team. He said it wasn’t weird because we’ve definitely done it before and that it was our secret. I had to give him credit. His tight hole is better than most girls’. I didn’t know he was a bottom until tonight. I also didn’t remember having a dick this big, but you don’t see me complaining. After all was said and done, I passed out drunk next to him in his bed, our bodies drenched in sweat and each other’s fluids, as I enjoyed the bromance I have with my best bro. This was the best birthday ever.

The next day, I got up extra early to go for a run despite my hangover. Afterwards I went to school, but like usual, I struggled to pay attention. It was like my mind was in a constant fog. My grades are slipping and this football scholarship is the only thing keeping me from dropping out entirely. After classes, I joined Cody and the others at practice. Throughout the day, I kept getting this feeling of uh…dayjah voo? That word that means that you feel like you’ve done something before. I wasn’t exactly sure where it was coming from. I shrugged it off. I was just a jock and I didn’t need to worry about stuff like that.

When I got home, I got an offer for the game Cody gave me. You know, AlterEgo. Some nerd seriously offered $1000 for it. I didn’t actually know it was that rare. I hope he enjoys it more than I did. I’ll sure enjoy the 1000 dollars. I bet he’ll love passing it around to all his other geeky friends. I wonder what their AlterEgos might look like…

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harrywavycurly · 22 days ago

Text

Worth the Fight: Bad Energy

Masterlist: Here

CW: language, mentions of baby stuff, pregnancy symptoms and one moment where Ethan is mean (not to you lol)

A/N: I feel like y’all are working your way to a good place and maybe y’all can be friends soon if nothing happens that could potentially get in the way?👀✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes @mads3502 @tpwkdpr @unfuckwitablenarry @itscoucouharry @latedirectionerera @ell0ra-br3kk3r

Summary: You and Harry have sort of an odd routine going and the two of you begin discussing baby names and rocking chairs✨

“Morning.” Harry softly greets you when you open your apartment door, you give him a small smile as you move out of his way so he can enter your apartment allowing him to head straight for your kitchen. You let a yawn escape you as turn so you can follow him after closing the door but Harry pauses right before he enters the archway of your kitchen and turns his head to look at you over his shoulder. “Don’t forget to-”

“Lock the door.” You finish for him with a tired sigh making Harry have to bite his bottom lip to keep the soft chuckle to himself. He enters the kitchen while you turn and quickly lock the door so you can join him and take your usual spot at your little table while he busies himself with cutting fruit and the random veggies.

It’s been almost two and a half weeks since Harry came over to your house far too early in the morning just to make you some green juice and since then he’s been coming over every other morning. The only difference is he now changes what he puts in the juice depending on how you’re feeling about certain fruits or vegetables and he also secretly adds a bit of protein powder because he knows you’re in more of a snacking stage and the odds of you sitting to eat a whole meal are slim. Most of the time the two of you engage in some simple small talk while you sit at the table and watch him cut things up, not getting too deep about anything minus Harry asking questions such as how you slept and if you’re feeling okay or if your ankles are still swollen.

“Do you want pine-”

“Oh please don’t even mention that evil fruit.” You say with a groan making Harry just nod as he puts the pineapple back in your fridge and grabs a mango instead. “I don’t understand why something that tastes so good has to hate me so much.” You pout as you place your chin in the palm of your hand while your other one rests on your bump as you lean over your small kitchen table.

“I’m guessing it’s still causing you some reflux issues then?” He asks as he looks around your fridge for the bag of spinach he just brought over the other day.

“Yes but sometimes I think it’s worth it but not today.” You explain with a yawn making Harry take a half step back from the fridge so he can turn his head and look at you with a raised brow. Normally you’re a bit sleepy when he comes over for your morning juice before you head off to work or he has to go run an errand or attend a meeting but he’s never seen you this tired before and it makes him a little concerned about how well you slept last night.

“How did sleep last night?” He questions as he hears you let out a small sigh as you close your eyes and give him a shrug.

“I don’t know if I actually got any sleep last night so I guess that would mean I slept horribly? No that sounds a bit dramatic. I’d just say I slept not very well.” Your mumbled rant like explanation makes Harry chuckle as he shakes his head and closes the doors to your fridge, he places the fruits and veggies for you juice on the counter near the cutting board and then turns so he’s fully facing you.

“Well come on then.” You slowly open your eyes just as Harry takes a few steps towards you with his hand out. “You can drink your juice in bed and take a nap afterwards or something. But you need rest. It’s important.” He tries to not sound bossy or rude because he knows the two of you are in a weird place right now and he doesn’t want to do or say anything that would make you upset enough to kick him back out to just being allowed in your hallway.

“You’re just trying to get me out of the room so you can put weird stuff in my juice.” You accuse him with a playful glare as you sit up and take his hand so he can help you get up from the chair.

“You caught me.” He jokes as he wraps his hand around your smaller one before taking a step back so you have room to stand in front of him. “I’m just trying to load your juice up with things you hate.” He adds as you let go of his hand and head out of the kitchen, he stands there for a moment not sure if you want him to follow you or not since really the only rooms he’s ever been inside of in your apartment are the living room and kitchen.

“Can you grab my water for me please? I left it on the counter.” You call over your shoulder as you make your way to your bedroom. Harry doesn’t hesitate as he turns and grabs your green and pink water bottle off the counter and walks out of the kitchen into the living room.

He catches a glimpse of you just before you enter your bedroom at the end of the hallway and for some reason he feels nervous as he stands there with your water bottle in his hand. For a moment he worries that you’re only being this relaxed about him entering your bedroom because you’re exhausted and don’t really know what you’re doing or saying. But then again he knows you well enough by now to know you are usually always the one who tries to be polite and civil out of the two of you, it’s usually him that messes it up with his unkind words or actions. So he just shakes off his nerves and heads down the hallway to leads to your bedroom, he can’t help but pause at the door on his right that he knows is your spare bedroom because you told him one morning how you’re happy you splurged for the two bedroom unit when you moved in so the twins won’t have to share a room with you.

When you get to your bed you look over your shoulder and when you don’t see or hear Harry you quirk a brow as you turn and take a few steps towards your bedroom door. You poke your head out and you can’t help but smile when you see him standing in front of the twin’s room, you take a few more steps so your about halfway between where he’s standing and your bedroom.

“You can look inside if you want.” Your voice being so close to him makes him jump a bit causing the ice in your water to clink against the metal sides of your bottle.

“Oh uhm I don’t-”

“You don’t what? Want to see where your children will be sleeping and playing while they’re with me? That’s rude.”

“Well when you put it like that then okay yeah I’ll take a look.” You chuckle as you reach for your water bottle so you can take it from him, Harry chews on his bottom lip as he turns to look at you and when you just give him a reassuring nod as you take a sip of your water he places a hand on the doorknob and twists it open.

Harry feels his heart beat faster as he takes a step inside the room, he obviously knows that you’re carrying twins meaning two babies but seeing two cribs set up really seems to make it feel all the more real for him. He steps further inside the room and places a hand on one of the cribs as he looks around the room. The walls are a soft white and to no surprise you’ve hung up a little bookshelf in the corner that has a few books already on it, the cribs are also white and when he looks down he sees you picked out matching sheets for them that have little story book animals on them such as Pooh Bear and Petter Rabbit.

“It’s not done yet but sometimes when I can’t sleep or I’m restless I come in here and-”

“Did you put these together yourself?” He asks as you walk over to the dresser on the opposite side of the wall the cribs are on.

“I did yeah.” You answer as you turn and look at him, his eyes are a little wide and you know he wants to say something about how that couldn’t have been good for your back or your ankles. “It wasn’t very hard and it didn’t take long.” You explain as you place a hand over your very obvious baby bump, giving it a soothing rub as you walk over to the bookshelf.

“I haven’t uh-I haven’t gotten cribs or really anything yet.” He informs you as he runs his hand that’s not gripping the side of the crib through his hair as all of a sudden a feeling of being unprepared and overwhelmed with things he needs to get begins to hit him like a tidal wave.

“That’s fine Harry these were just on sale so I grabbed them. You have plenty of time to-”

“What if they come early and I don’t have anything still? Or what if they hate the cribs I pick and never want to sleep in them or-” A soft hand landing on top of his that’s gripping the crib makes him stop his rambling. He blinks a few times as he tries to calm his breathing down before he looks over at you and sees you giving him a small yet comforting smile.

“They’ll like whatever you pick Harry because you’re their dad and they’ll know you picked it just for them. Now I’m sure there’s going to be days and nights they don’t want to sleep but it won’t have anything to do with the cribs you get them.” You do your best to reassure him and ease him away from the edge of the small anxiety attack you know he is mere moments away from having.

“Would you uhm maybe want to help pick some things out for them?” He knows he could ask his mom or sister to help him but honestly for some reason he feels like picking the furniture for his nursery would be a good experience for the two of you to have.

“Sure oh actually your mom invited me shopping tomorrow she wants me to help her pick some crib sheets so would you want to just join us for that and we can look at cribs and stuff as well?” You feel a tinge of nervousness as you tell him about the plans you made with his mom, not sure if he is aware that she reaches out to you to see how you’re doing and even comes over for the occasional cup of tea.

“She told me about the two of you having plans tomorrow.” You let out a sigh of relief as you move your hand off of his and place it back on your bump. “Are you sure you would be okay with me joining you? I don’t want to get in the way.”

“She’s your mom Harry so of course I don’t mind you joining us.” Harry watches you closely as you speak so see if he can find any hints that you’re lying just to save yourself from hurting his feelings. But when you just stare at him for a few moments before taking another sip of your water he knows you’re being honest, you really don’t care if he comes with the two of you tomorrow and oddly enough he doesn’t know how to feel about the fact he’s going to be shopping for his twins with their mother and his mother.

“Okay I’ll uhm call her later to set up the details.” You just nod as you turn and head for the door while Harry still stands with a hand on the crib closest to it. “I’ll uhm go-go get started on your juice.” He fumbles over his words as he finally releases his grip on the wooden frame of the crib and turns around so he can see you standing in the doorway with your back towards him.

“Okay but don’t try to sneak any carrots into it this time or I’ll probably start crying.” You warn as you take a step into the hallway.

“Carrots are good for-”

“I don’t care what they are good for Harry they ruin the juice and make it a disgusting color.”

“The juice is already a gross color? It’s green.”

“Says the man with big dumb green eyes and green shorts on?” To that Harry decides to ignore your comments about his eyes and takes a moment to look down at his outfit, having forgotten he came here from the gym so he is in fact wearing green athletic shorts and a gray tank top with his neon colored running shoes.

“Just go lay down and I’ll bring you your carrot free juice okay?” You give him a smug smile as he stands at the end of your hallway near the living room with a hand on his hip while you stand in your bedroom doorway with your water bottle in one hand and the other also on your hip.

“Okay.” Harry rolls his eyes at how happy you sound all because he agreed to not add any carrots to your juice, he watches as you turn and enter your bedroom and waits a few moments till he hears the sound of your water bottle being placed on your nightstand before he turns to go to the kitchen.

“Oh and Paris is in the living room!” You shout as you fold your covers back so you can climb into bed, wanting to give Harry a heads up on the orange cat’s whereabouts since he still doesn’t seem to like Harry therefor thinking it’s okay to still use his ankles as little chew toys.

As if on queue Harry hears the all too familiar sound of a bell jingling from behind him just as he begins to cut up the mango that he decide would be a good substitute for the pineapple in your juice. He freezes the moment he feels the soft hair and slightly pointy whiskers rub against the back of his calf, Paris’s go too move before he sinks his teeth into the flesh right above Harry’s ankle bone. Harry takes a deep breath in preparation for the pain he knows he’s about to endure and sure enough maybe two seconds later he feels Paris bite down on his ankle as he starts to purr while Harry releases his breath and lets out a groan.

“Fuck sake Paris how long are we gonna be doing this mate? I’ve been here how many times now and you still don’t like me? I’m making your mom homemade green juice for Christ sake what else do you want from me?” Harry rambles on as he looks down at the orange cat who is just sitting there staring at him all innocently as if he didn’t just make a meal out of his poor ankle.

“One day you’re going to like me. I just know it.” Paris tilts his head to the side and looks up at Harry for a brief moment before he decides he’s done in the kitchen and walks off leaving Harry standing there with a half cut up mango in one hand and a knife in the other.

Harry isn’t sure if he’s dreaming or not, because surely there’s no way you actually said what he just heard come out of your mouth.

“I’m serious.” Your simple statement answers his question as you cross your arms over your chest and stare at him with a very stern look in your eyes that he’s never seen before, granted he hasn’t been around you for very long but still he’s never seen you look so serious.

“It’s a rocking chair how can it be haunted?” He wonders as he looks at the wooden chair in question that’s currently sitting in between the two of you.

The two of you are in the middle of a antique shop looking for some things to go on the wall in your nursery and also to see if they have any baby furniture that could potentially go in the nursery at Harry’s house. While it upset you a bit it’s no surprise to Harry that his mom suddenly “wasn’t feeling well” as soon as she found out you had invited Harry to tag along on today’s shopping trip, he knows very well she’s fine at home on her couch watching her shows and researching things for her garden. And while normally Harry would be annoyed at her subtle ways of trying to interfere in his personal life he’s thankful his mom isn’t here to witness him look absolutely lost on why the mother of his children thinks used rocking chairs can be haunted and refuses to buy one.

“Not haunted but it could hold bad energy from the last person who used it.” You explain for the second time as you scrunch your nose up while looking at the chair. “What if the last person who sat in that chair was a weirdo? Or was a serial killer?” Harry rolls his eyes at your ridiculous reasoning for why the chair could have bad energy.

“Oh come on what are the odds Ted Bundy used to rock his kids to sleep in this rocking chair.” Harry playfully argues as he points to the chair while you drop your hands from your chest so you can reach over and smack Harry’s arm with an annoyed huff making him glare at you.

“Why would you say that? Now we really aren’t getting it you asshole.” You snap as you give his arm one more smack before turning around and heading further down the aisle of old vintage looking furniture. Harry lets out a sigh as he runs a hand over his face because it’s only been half an hour since the two of you started this shopping trip and at this rate he’s not sure if the two of you will still be on the decently good terms you’ve been on the past few weeks by the time it’s over.

“Are you really mad? I know you’re more emotional than normal right now but it’s just a rocking chair and it doesn’t have to go in your house it can go in mine.” He tries to reason with you as he follows behind you down the aisle, he hears you let out a scoff at he mention of you being emotional and he instantly knows that wasn’t the correct thing to say.

“It’s not just a rocking chair Harry.” You quickly turn around to face him making him take a step back so he’s out of reach making you unable to smack him just incase you get the itch to do so again. “It’s where you put your babies to sleep while singing a lullaby and where you soothe them when they are upset and-and where you sit and read to them before bed and I just don’t want one that someone has already had all those special moments in. Even if it’s not going in my house I know my babies will still be sitting in it with you and I just-”

“Okay okay we can get you a brand new chair that no one has ever sat in just-just stop crying.” Harry’s words are rushed as he takes a small step towards you so he can place his hands on your shoulders, you didn’t even realize you were crying until you finally feel a few tears roll down your cheeks. You sniffle a few times as Harry bends his knees so he can be eye level with you. “I promise you will get whatever rocking chair you want. Just please stop crying.” He’s practically begging you at this point and giving your shoulders some gentle squeezes as you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan

“Oh sorry am I embarrassing you?” Your voice is a mixture of harsh and watery making Harry let out a sigh as he stands up and drops his hands from your shoulders. “Because news flash Harry pregnant people cry a lot okay?” He doesn’t want to start a fight with you so he just stands there and lets you take your frustration out on him because it was his poor choice of words that caused this reaction from you in the first place. “It’s not like I can control it either. I just cry all the time over the stupidest stuff.”

“I just don’t like seeing you cry.” You almost don’t hear his admission as he looks down at his feet while rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to make you upset I didn’t know you uhm had such strong feelings about rocking chairs that’s all.” He explains as he looks up at you making you let out a huff as your arms fall to your sides.

“It’s okay.” You tell him as you adjust the strap to your purse, Harry watches as you make a face of slight discomfort and he can’t even stop himself before he’s reaching over and grabbing the strap, he raises an eyebrow as his silent way of asking if this is okay and when you just let the strap of your bag fall into his hands he smiles as he takes your giant purse and puts the strap over his shoulder.

“I read somewhere that most people hyper fixate on one thing during their pregnancies and I just think mine has been the nursery. Mainly the furniture in it. So that’s why I uh had my-my little moment about the rocking chair.” You tell him as a way to help him get a better understanding on what’s going on in your mind, since you know having a breakdown in the middle of a store isn’t ideal especially for him. Mainly because anyone within a few feet of the two of you would be able to tell instantly who he is thanks to the short sleeves of his worn out Rolling Stones shirt letting his more recognizable tattoos be on display.

“Gemma’s was the car seat. She read every single safety review on hundreds of car seats and I swear she still doesn’t even like the one she uses everyday.” You smile as Harry talks about his sister, doing his best to help make you feel like he really does get it and that you being very particular about what you want in the twins nursery is totally normal.

“Oh speaking of Gemma I was thinking of Nora if one of them is a girl.” Harry feels as if his feet all of a sudden don’t know how to work as you turn around to begin heading down the aisle, tossing out a baby name as if it’s just a suggestion on what the two of you should eat for dinner and not a possible name for one of your children. “And I like Anne as a middle name and I know it’s her middle name and obviously it’s your mother’s name so I thought it would be cute?” You add having no clue Harry is still frozen in place a few paces behind you.

“Uhm-uh you’ve been thinking of-of names already?” He asks as he quickly rushes to catch up to you before you turn to head down another aisle that has framed art.

“Yeah? I’ve been thinking of names since I found out I was pregnant but I’ve just now narrowed the girl name down to that one.”

“And it’s Nora?”

“Yes I like Nora.”

“Nora is nice. I think I like it.”

“I’m glad.”

“So Nora as in Jones?”

“Uh more like Roberts.”

“And who’s that?” You stop mid step and turn to face Harry who has a very curious expression on his face as he flips through a bin of floral themed art.

“Nora Roberts is an author.” You answer making Harry just nod as a small smirk forms on his face.

“Should’ve known.” You roll your eyes as he looks over at you. “Of course you want to name our daughter after an author while I want to name her after a musician.”

“Well at least both Noras are talented.”

“You’re missing the most important part of this whole thing.”

“And that would be?”

“We just agreed on something.” The grin he gives you leaves you no choice but to smile back. “Nora Anne Styles? Or did you want them to have your last name? I’m fine with hyphenating it if you-”

“Styles is fine.” Harry feels hit with an odd swirl of emotions at your answer, knowing that you want the twins to have his last name makes him have a sense of pride but also makes him feel slightly nervous that one day they might hate having the same name as him. “I haven’t thought about boy names yet.” You tell him before you turn to look at a bin that has framed posters.

“Uhm how do you feel about Edward?”

“Edgar? Like Allen Poe?”

“Uh no I uhm said Edward not Edgar.”

“Oh sorry. Edward-Edward what?”

“James?”

“Edward James Styles.” You whisper it at first making Harry nervously rub his lips together as he listens to you repeat the name a few more times before nodding. “Okay yeah I like it.” You say with a smile as you place both hands on your bump before you turn to face him.

“Wow we are two for two.”

“Better stop before we break our streak or you even worst you make me cry.” Harry rolls his eyes as you take a step towards him while holding a hand out. He doesn’t know what you want his hand for but he turns so he’s facing you and gives it to you anyway with a quirked brow. “Can you feel that?” You ask as you place his hand on the side of your bump, he’s about to shake his head no when all of a sudden he feels like tiniest something press against his palm.

“Is-is that one of them?” You just nod as Harry stares down at his hand that’s pressed firmly against your bump. You watch his eyes go from wide and shocked to soft and glossed over so you place a hand over his and give it a small pat just as he lets out his first sniffle.

“Figured it was your turn to cry in public.” You joke as he blinks a few times trying to stop the tears from actually falling and rolling down his face.

“Thanks.” He says with a wet chuckle as you move his hand to the other side of your bump so he can feel another tiny little movement.

“I think they are stretching or something.” You explain as Harry just stares at his hand with a look of pure amazement. “They’ve been extra active today though.”

“I bet it’s because of the carrots I snuck in your juice this morning.”

The laugh you let out has Harry imagining for a moment this is what it would be like if the two of you weren’t just a few levels above being complete strangers who are having kids together and instead you were just two people happily shopping for nursery decor for their twins. It’s moments like this that he desperately wishes he could remember more about the night he met you because it’s glimpses of you like this, laughing at a stupid joke he said that have him feeling like you are so easy to be around and he’s sure that’s how he felt about you that night as well. But the harsh reality that Harry is very aware of is moments like this are rare for the two of you, he’s already made you cry today so he just tries to live in this moment that has him feeling a comforting sense of happiness as long as he can because sooner or later he knows it’s going to come to an end.

You let out a groan as you stretch your legs on your couch letting your sock covered feet land in Ethan’s lap which makes him just roll his eyes when he looks down and sees you wiggling your toes at him. He turns to look at you and lets out a laugh when you poke your bottom lip out and continue to wiggle your toes, a combination you know he can’t resist. Ethan lets out a huff as he places his phone down on the table next to the couch so he can use both hands to gently rub your slightly swollen ankles.

“You’re so lucky I love you because I usually never touch feet for free.” He states making you laugh as you get comfortable and go back to reading one of the pregnancy books Anne gave you the last time she came over. “Oh so how was the shopping trip the other day? Didn’t see you two on the news and you never called me to bail you out of jail so that must mean it went well?” He asks with a teasing tone that makes you roll your eyes as you flip a page in your book.

“It did go well actually I got a few new books for the twin’s bookshelf.” You begin as you lower your book a bit so you can see Ethan’s face over the top of it. “We picked baby names and-”

“Excuse me?” His eyes are wide and his hands momentarily stop rubbing your ankles as he snaps his head in your direction. “You did what now?”

“We sort of agreed on two baby names. I told him the one I’ve been thinking about for a girl-”

“Nora Anne?”

“Yes and he liked it but he thought it was because of Nora Jones.”

“Well yeah you can’t expect Mr. Asshole to know who Nora Roberts is.” You glare at Ethan for a moment making him just shrug because he doesn’t get what he did wrong so you just continue on explaining the baby names.

“But then he had an idea for a boy name and it’s uhm well it’s Edward James St-”

“James? As in Ethan James your super attractive young neighbor?” He all but shouts as he stares at you with an excited grin on his face and you just nod and laugh because you knew he would react this way to finding out the middle name Harry picked unknowingly wanting to give his son just so happens to belong to the very man he can’t stand.

“Exactly.”

“Weird way to ask me to be their godfather but I accept.” He says with a shrug as he goes back to focusing on rubbing your ankles.

“Don’t get crazy Ethan no one has asked you to be anyone’s godfather.” You explain with a laugh making him let out a dramatic sigh.

“Here I am rubbing your feet and ankles and you don’t even think I’m godfather material? That’s just rude.” You playfully glare at him when he turns his head to look at you with a smile. “But really I’m glad it’s going well with him I know you’ve been through some shit with that asshole so I’m happy that he seems to be making an effort to do things that are actually nice and helpful.” You just nod as you try to focus on the page you’re reading in your book.

“Yeah it’s been-”

“I saw photos of him out with another girl last night.” You drop your book to your lap as Ethan lets out a sigh of relief, feeling ten times lighter now that he’s spilled the beans about something he wasn’t sure he was going to tell you about or not but he figures you deserve to know the whereabouts of the father of your children.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw photos of Harry out with some chick in a god awful tacky green silk dress with yellow-”

“Ethan.”

“Right sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair as he turns his body a bit so he is facing you, but makes sure your feet are still comfortably resting in his lap. “He was out at some club with her and they left hand in hand and got into his car and the only reason I known it was his car is because I recognized the driver.”

“Is that all?” Ethan raises an eyebrow at your question because you’re handling this rather differently than he expected.

“Uh yeah-yeah that’s all.”

“That’s okay.” You say with a slow nod before you grab your book. “He’s single he can be seen with whoever he wants.” You explain as you turn to the page you were just on, ignoring the look of confusion on Ethan’s face and the way your heart feels like it just dropped to the pit of your stomach.

“It’s okay if it’s not okay you know that right? He’s the father of your babies and it’s perfectly normal to feel attached to him in a way that no one will ever understand.” You can’t look at Ethan as he speaks or you’ll lose it so he just gives your feet a little squeeze before he reaches over and grabs the book out of your hands. “Look at me.” He says as he tosses your book onto your coffee table, you slowly look from your hands that are resting on your bump over to his face and then finally you meet his stare.

“He told me he had plans with his mom last night. That’s why he couldn’t come over to help put up the curtains I got for the nursery but he said he’d do it the next time he’s here to make my juice.” Ethan lets out a sigh as he watches your eyes get glossy as you let him in on a piece of information that you weren’t going to share with him because it seemed unimportant until now.

“God this wouldn’t be happening if you would’ve went with Zayn for your baby daddy.” His voice is serious but you know he’s joking as he reaches for one of your hands.

“Zayn wasn’t an option.” You explain with a sniffle as you try to stop the tears from falling with a few blinks.

“That’s a shame because that man is-”

“Was she pretty?” You mumble as you look away from Ethan and down at his hand that’s got a firm hold of yours as it rests on your bump. You don’t know why you asked because you know it doesn’t matter but you can’t help but be curious.

“Fuck no. She was hideous.” He watches the corners of your mouth twitch as you fight off a smile. “You’re the hottest woman that man has ever been with. Hands down.”

“You’re just saying that so I won’t cry.”

“No I’m not.” He argues as he gives your hand a squeeze. “I’m saying it so you’ll make me the godfather.” He smiles at the sound of your laughter even if it’s a littler watery sounding it’s better than the sound of you bawling your eyes out, that’s one sound he is sick of hearing from you. “I love you. You’re going to be okay.” You let out a sigh as you give his hand a squeeze making him smile.

“Thank you. I love you too.” With that Ethan lets go of your hand so he can lean over and grab your book off the coffee table and hand it back to you. The two of you silently deciding that you’ve had your fill of gossip for the evening so he picks up his phone with one hand and scrolls his social media pages while his other lazily rubs at your ankles. While you try to focus on the words on the page of your book you can’t help but let your mind wonder to the reasons why Harry would lie to you and if you should even bring it up to him. But as you get comfortable on the couch and Ethan lets out a soft sigh you decide that you’ll just deal with Harry later and enjoy your time with one of your bestfriends, refusing to let the man with the big dumb green eyes ruin anymore of your evening.

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sometimesanalice · 2 years ago

Text

What’s In a Name?

Summary: Bradley really loves the way you say his name. At the grocery store. At the bar. In his bed.

Warnings: fuff, and so much smut. Minors DNI

Length: 9K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

(This is a one-shot for my ‘Like I Can’ series. You don’t need to read it first, but you might want to. It’s pretty cute! You can check it out here!)

Bradley loved hearing you say his name.

He’d gone almost two years without hearing it. Back when he was ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’ to you. Back when you weren’t sure how you would fit into the life he had built in San Diego when you had moved there for a promotion. Now he made it a priority to show you just how seamlessly your lives fit together, to remind you just how right you were for each other.

There were times when he still couldn’t believe that he was able to have you so entirely. You went from being just his closest childhood friend to being his everything. And now that he had you there was nothing he liked more than the sound of his name coming from your lips.

He loved hearing it every chance he could.

He’d never come so hard has he had the first time he’d heard you chanting his name over and over again as he’d fucked you in his bed. Your hair had been a riot on his pillow, your lips swollen from the attention he’d given them with his own. He’d just barely gotten you over the edge before he’d followed, so overwhelmed by your sweet voice so needy and breathy in his ear.

BradleyBradleyBradley

He had even changed his contact information in your phone from ‘Rooster’ to ‘Bradley’ one lazy Sunday afternoon when you had been dozing on his chest, adding a little sparkly heart next to it for good measure. In general, he wasn’t much of an emoji user, but he thought you might find it cute when you discovered it. He was very pleased with himself months later when he realized you’d never changed it back, pink sparkly heart and all.

He loved hearing you say his name at the grocery store.

He had gone off to find his favorite brand of protein powder, the store had recently rearranged their health food section and he could never remember where it was stocked. He didn’t want to drag you around on the scavenger hunt, especially when he knew you’d rather be doing anything else than grocery shopping.

Once he had it, he’d tried a few different aisles before finding you standing near the baking things and spices, he would have recognized your curves in those jeans anywhere.

You were chatting away with an elderly woman like you were a pair of old friends. It didn’t surprise him, since you’d always been the type that strangers had gravitated towards, your warm energy apparent to who crossed paths with you.

Walking up to you, he put the powder in the cart with the items you had accumulated while he had been wandering the same three aisles over and over again before he found what he was looking for near the bottom shelf.

“Bradley!” you greeted turning towards him beaming, your smile pure sunshine, before cheerily spinning back to the older woman, “See, I knew he’d find us eventually.”

“And he’s just as handsome as you said,” your new friend replied, giving him the once over.

“Yes, he is. Very handsome and very tall,” you told her with a teasing lilt in your tone, glancing back over your shoulder to send him a wink.

He’d happily be objectified by anyone you wanted, including elderly women wearing fuzzy purple sweaters, just as long as it meant you were bragging about him to them. That they knew he was yours, and you were his.

“How can me and my six-foot-two-inch self be of assistance to you ladies?” he asked, putting on his most winning smile. It couldn’t be said that he wouldn’t commit to a bit when the opportunity was presented.

“Can you reach Ruth a couple of those containers of Hungarian paprika, please?” you asked him while pointing to the red and green tins on the top shelf.

He was glad you had waited for him. They were so pushed back that there’s no way you would have been able to reach them on your own without climbing on the bottom shelf for a boost.

Safety first and all that, but also, he wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see the way your shirt would have ridden up your back. The dimples at the base of your spine were for his eyes only.

“Of course, I am at your service,” he pressed a quick kiss to your temple before stepping around the cart to grab the spice for the older woman.

“Oh, and then maybe one for us too, Bradley. I’ve never tried making Hungarian Goulash before. You’ve made it sound so good, that now I think I have to.”

“If you want to make it, mine is the number one reviewed recipe for the dish on AllRecipes,” Ruth boasted, there was no hiding the pride in her voice.

He hands Ruth the tins he had grabbed, and passes the other one to you to add to the collection in the shopping cart.

“But what I left out is that I always use this specific brand of paprika, and that I make mine with half pork and half beef. I save that tidbit for friends and family, I couldn’t just give all of my secrets away to the internet people.”

That had you laughing, “So sneaky, I love it! Thank you for sharing your secrets with us. Sounds like we know what we’re having for dinner tonight.”

You were already opening pulling the recipe up on your phone for later.

“I’m looking forward to it, especially since we know the tricks of the trade now.”

His eyes catch on the overflowing hand basket resting near the older woman’s worn Birkenstock mules. It looked heavy, almost like she didn’t originally plan on getting as many things as she ended up with.

“Can I carry that for you? Or if you have more shopping to do, I would be happy to go and get a cart for you,” he asks, gesturing to her overloaded basket.

“Oh no, those were the last things on my list,” Ruth replies, waving off his offer, “My youngest daughter is having her 50th birthday and the whole family is having a get together. I thought doubling my recipe would be fine, but I decided last minute to triple it.”

She bends down to reach for it, but he beats her to it. His mom raised him right.

“No, ma’am, I insist.” He’s pretty sure he catches you checking out his ass when he stands back up, “I’ll be right back, sweet girl. Stay out of trouble.”

He holds out his other arm for Ruth to take so he can escort her to the front of the store to pay.

“I don’t find trouble, it always seems to find me,” you joked.

“I believe that,” chimes Ruth.

He turns back to get a look at you, and sees you bringing your hand up to your forehead to mimic a full swoon.

He just smiles and shakes his head at you and your antics. Such a brat.

He helps Ruth at the check-out unloading the basket onto the conveyer belt, and then carries her packed grocery bags to her car getting them settled in her trunk.

Once they’ve parted ways, he heads back inside to find you.

You’re standing in front of the cooler with all the dips and fresh salsas, your head cocked to the side as you deliberate your choices.

What he also notices as he makes his way to you is that you’ve caught the attention of another man, one who should be paying more attention to his bagged lettuce instead of eyeing his girlfriend.

Sneaking up behind you, he wraps his arms around your middle lifting you up off the ground.

“Bradley! Oh my god, seriously?” He can’t help but laugh at how startled you are, he’s pretty sure if you were wearing pearls you’d be clutching them right now.

“Here I thought you were a gentleman, helping sweet Ruth with her groceries. It’s rude to sneak up on innocent and unsuspecting women,” you protest trying to twist out of his arms once he has set you back down.

“Ah, don’t be like that,” he settles his hands on your hips pulling you back to his chest, letting his fingers slide through your belt loops, before lowering his voice, “Unsuspecting, maybe. But innocent? There wasn’t anything innocent the blowjob you gave me in the Bronco outside the Hard Deck last night.”

He knows the shiver that goes through your body isn’t from the cold case you are both standing in front of.

Looking over to his left, he sees the man who was checking you out putting down the bag of spinach in his hands. And he is hit with a feeling of smug satisfaction watching as the guy quickly wheels his empty cart out of the section completely.

“No getting handsy by the hummus, Bradley,” you tut, still set on giving him the cold shoulder, but the way you lean back against him gives you away, “Should we get that lemon beet kind again?”

“Whatever you want, kid,” he murmured against your neck. “Plus, the word on the street is that you think I’m handsome, so that’s got to count for something.”

When you pull away from him this time, he lets you go. Getting a glimpse of the skin above the top of your jeans as you reach up to grab the square container of hummus.

You set it in the cart looking back at him as you toss your hair over your shoulder, before primly stating, “Oh, and Bradley, if you’re going to quote me I do believe I said you were very handsome.”

And with that final word, you push off with the cart meandering to towards the fruit section, the sensual sway of your hips he knows is just for him.

He especially loved the way your voice sounded when you’d just woken up, when his name was one of the first words out of your mouth to start a new day.

There was nothing Bradley liked better than the nights you spent together in the same bed. It didn’t matter if it was his place or yours, just as long as he was able to wake up to find you warm and tucked away under his arm.

“G’morning Bradley,” you’d whisper, voice soft and sleepy, a little raspy from disuse, as you turned to nestle closer burrowing your face in his neck. He knew you liked a gentle wake up, and he was more than happy to trail his fingers along your back until you woke up a bit more.

He was always up before you, his internal alarm clock permanently altered from his time in the Navy. For as much as you claimed to be a morning person, you were always the one snoozing yours in favor for spending a few more minutes in bed. It wasn’t something he’d ever expected to learn about you, and he liked being the one who got to share those intimately domestic moments with you.

The only surefire way to get you out of bed and moving on those mornings was the suggestion of hot coffee-- that or the promise of his mouth.

He loved the way you said his name when you were surprised.

When he’d gone to that furniture store you liked, his only plans were to find a new larger dresser for his bedroom. He had claimed he needed more space for his stuff, but really, he wanted there to be more room for you to keep your things at his place.

The home stylist at the store not only helped him pick out a new dresser he thought you’d approve of, but also convinced him to also purchase the matching king-sized canopy bed frame and set of nightstands.

He was told the mood was “cozy mid-century chic”, whatever that meant.

Bradley knows he runs hot, you’ve told him enough times that he’s like a furnace. So when the stylist showed him the cloudlike and breathable comforter along with the 800-thread count white cotton sheets, he had them add that to his collection too.

You still wouldn’t move in with him, but he was working on it. He knew he’d reel you in soon enough. And if it took a payment plan, so be it.

Although, he could only blame himself for the new lamps and giant rug he also purchased. He’d gotten a little swept up in the salesperson’s enthusiasm.

Hopefully that guy got commission, he deserved every dollar.

It had hurt a bit when he swiped his credit card, but it was worth it to hear the way you said his name when you saw it all for the first time after it had been delivered and assembled.

“Oh my god, Bradley!” you laughed, “I thought you said you were just getting a new dresser. Did you buy the whole store?”

“What can I say? The salesperson was very good at his job, sweet girl,” he was trying to not let his leg bounce as he waited for you to say more. A little nervous now that he’d gone overboard and missed the mark, “Do you like it?”

“It’s absolutely perfect, Bradley,” you gushed as you slowly made your way around the room taking it all in. “It’s warm, it’s classic, it’s cozy. It feels like you. You’re going to have a hard time getting me to leave now, I love it in here.”

That was all he wanted.

He felt all the tension leave his body, grinning as he watched you sit down on the bed running your hand over the soft deep green duvet. It had become his favorite color the second he’d seen you in that green dress the night at the seaside restaurant when he’d told you how he felt about you.

“So, do you want to help me break it in?” he asked, pushing off from where he had been leaning against the doorframe and sauntered towards you.

The way you slowly reclined back on the bed, your lips turned up in a mischievous smile was an answer in itself.

He loved the sound of you saying his name at the Hard Deck.

Your voice was so familiar to him that he could pick it out anywhere. He was so attuned to the way you said his name that he could be in a conversation with someone in the noisy bar, but his ears would perk up if you said his name in a passing comment.

It was like he was hearing his friends talk with one ear, while the other was always listening for you.

He could be with Mav catching up and chatting about the new plane he was working on, until:

“Yeah, I could use another one, let me see if Bradley needs one really quick and then I’ll go up with you.”

And then he would find himself standing next to you at the bar.

He could be playing around of nine-ball with Hangman, until:

“No, you’re kidding me! There’s no way you caught Coyote doing that, has Bradley heard this one before? Oh my god, you have to tell him.”

And then he would find himself abandoning his cue on the pool table.

“What the fuck, Bradshaw? You can’t just quit because I’m kicking your ass,” Jake would shout at him as he made his way towards you.

After all, you’d said his name and now he was curious.

He could be at the jukebox trying to find something better to put on than whatever terrible song Fanboy had picked, until:

“Oh! Bradley knows how to play that one, let’s see if we can bribe him to go perform it. I doubt we’ll have to try very hard, he’s such a little show off.”

And then he would find himself seated at the piano.

To everyone else he was ‘Rooster’, ‘Bradshaw’, ‘Lieutenant’, and soon to be ‘Lieutenant Commander’.

To you he was Bradley.

Seeing Bradley seated at the piano was a normal sight for you.

Since being permanently stationed in San Diego, he’d had all of the things from his storage locker shipped over, including his Dad’s old upright. He liked to play in the evening to decompress after his day and you liked to watch.

There was something about the way his large fingers moved over the keys so gracefully that was always so mesmerizing to you.

You still remembered how embarrassed he would get all those times when your moms would beg him to put on an impromptu piano recital. Usually fueled by a couple too many glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon, you realized later on.

Your mom and Carole had definitely been the “Wine Moms” at the baseball and tennis games they’d sat through in support of you and Bradley.

He would get a little sulky in the way that all self-conscious teens got, but he could never hold out for very long before pulling out the wooden piano bench. Bradley wasn’t one to purposefully disappoint his mom, their relationship special in the way that only a single parent and an only child could understand.

Once he realized it was a good way to get noticed by the girls in high school, he’d been quick to change his tune. And now it was clear he reveled the attention it got him when he sat down and started tapping out a carefree riff before launching into a song, all preening posturing and smug smiles.

You were usually right next to Bradley when he put on a show, an arm wrapped around his shoulder, always one to want a front row seat to see him in action.

Tonight the bar was a bit more packed than usual. It took a little longer to move around, and a little longer for Penny to make your drink since you had opted for something slightly more complicated than a beer.

Slowly, but surely, you wove your way through the crowd. Careful to avoid any stray elbows to avoid jostling your full drink as you made your way back to your friends where they were gathered around the ancient upright. You were nearly there when a burly man stepped around you, giving you a clear view of Bradley playing.

And you were stopped short by the picture in front of you.

The performance he was currently putting on at the Hard Deck was different than anything he did at his own home. His leg bouncing in tempo as he shimmied perched on the piano bench, like it’s a struggle for him to be contained to one spot.

He was captivating in the way that he commanded the room.

Maybe it was the way the way the muscles of his forearms were flexing as his fingers were precisely flying over the discolored keys.

Maybe it was the way the light sheen of sweat was collecting in the hollow of his collarbone.

Or maybe it was the way the veins were standing out against his neck, the way the thick tendon that ran along his throat had you transfixed as he threw his head back to sing at the top of his lungs.

His sunglasses were sliding down his nose as his head bobbed between glancing down at his hands and scanning the room. He smiled when his eyes found yours over the top of his aviators. Your hand tightened around the glass in your hand, the condensation dripping down your wrist as you stood there and watched.

You weren’t sure if it was your imagination or the tequila you’d been sipping on all night, but it seemed like he was working the keys of the piano a little harder, a little faster as he held your gaze.

And then his tongue was slipping out. Just a bit, and just for you.

Thankfully no one could hear the way your breath hitched in your throat over the sound of everyone in the bar singing along. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so turned on.

The intensity of Bradley’s heated gaze, the way his body was moving, the way you wanted to crawl in his lap and lick the taut line of his neck and taste the salt of his skin right there in front of everyone.

You probably looked as desperate as you were feeling, because his easygoing smile turned more knowing every second your eyes stayed locked.

“I’ll be right back,” you said to no one in particular as you abandoned your spicy margarita on the nearest surface to make your escape.

You felt like you were about to vibrate out of your skin.

It was easier to slipping away to the bathroom than had been trying to reach Bradley in front of the stage, needing a moment to yourself out of his heady orbit.

Locking the door behind you, you lean against the worn wood that was littered with stickers that had been collected and brought back from around the world. You try breathing in and out a few times, the way you’ve learned to do at your expensive yoga classes, in an attempt to slow down the rapid pounding in your chest. Actively trying to not think about the way he looked at you.

There was no question in your mind that you suffered from an incurable Bradley kink. Now that you could let yourself revel in all sorts of unfriendly thoughts about him, everything he did was a turn on for you.

You had a sneaking suspicion that he might have one too. His eyes always a got a bit more heated, and his hands would grip you a little tighter when you said it.

You knew that if you were to slip your fingers past the waistband of the dainty lace underwear you had just bought that you would find yourself wet.

And for a moment, you’re tempted to do just that. To let your fingers skim up your thigh, along the scalloped edge of the panties you’d bought specifically with Bradley in mind, to think of him as you slide your fingers inside of yourself.

You’re feeling so high-strung that you know it wouldn’t take long to come. It wouldn’t be the first time you would have used the bathroom at the Hard Deck to get off.

Your hand is halfway under your sundress, when you hear the chanting:

Roo-ster! Roo-ster! Roo-ster!

In your mind’s eye, you can picture him standing behind the piano doing his version of a touchdown dance.

You’ve teased him about it before, calling him a “slutty little songbird”, which he didn’t deny. He thrives off the attention, and you can’t say you mind watching him do that sexy little shimmy he is so fond of.

You also don’t mind helping him find other ways to work off the post-performance high.

Knowing that he will probably be looking for you now that he’s done, you smooth down the skirt of your dress with shaky hands and make your way to the sink.

Standing in front of the dingy mirror, you can see just how much a wreck your appearance actually is. Your cheeks look warm, your lips are slightly swollen from Penny’s special spicy margarita mix, and your eyes have that certain wild gleam in them that only Bradley brings out in you.

You turn the cold tap on, and stick your wrists under the running water. Hoping the cool water on your pulse points will help ease the heat that is spreading under your skin.

While the chanting has stopped now, you can still hear the lively sounds of the packed bar. Figuring it’s alright to leave the safe confines of the tiny bathroom, you turn off the water and dry your hands, determined to not let anyone see just how riled up you were.

You’re barely five steps outside of the bathroom, when a strong arm wraps around your waist.

“Hey, kid.”

And just like that your heart is racing out of control again. His woodsy smell paired with the faint hit of sweat has your brain going fuzzy.

“You doin’ ok?” he rasps against the shell of your ear. He has you pulled against his warm, broad chest and you can feel the echoes of his question reverberate throughout your whole body.

You pull out of his grasp to turn and face him, taking a small step backwards towards the wall.

“Uh-huh, yeah. Everything is fine,” you ramble, nodding your head as you try to avoid looking in his honey brown eyes.

“You sure about that?” he asks taking a step towards you, which has you retreating another one back. “Thought I should check on you since you disappeared there for a bit.”

“Just you know,” you trail off briefly glancing at him and gesturing pathetically towards the bathroom like that explains your clearly unusual behavior.

“Mm-hmm, sure,” he allows, his head tilting to the side as he observes you.

You know the exact moment when he realizes what’s going on by the way his cheek twitches as he tries to control the wolfish smile he is fighting back. And you’re suddenly feeling very much like his prey when he presses forward again. This time when you step back you feel the wall against your back as he crowds into your space.

“We should probably go back,” you stutter out when he cages you in with one hand above your head.

“Maybe,” he muses, tracing his thumb along your lower lip, “You sure you don’t want to tell me what’s got you so ruffled?”

The way he is looking at you, the way he feels against you, it’s all too much.

“Bradley.”

You don’t know what you were trying to sound like when you said his name, but there’s no missing the neediness in your voice.

“Yeah, I thought so,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low. He takes your hand in his, guiding you to his zipper, letting you feel him through his jeans. “You got me all worked up too, sweet girl.”

The sound you make is lands somewhere between a wheeze and a whimper.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he has you leading the way up to the bar, using your body to hide his hard on as he pays. Not even bothering to wave goodbye to your group of friends as he hustles you to the Bronco.

He definitely broke the speed limit and a couple minor traffic laws on the drive back trying to get you home to his place.

You had looked so flushed when he had been pounding away at the keys of the upright at the Hard Deck, and you had dashed away abandoning your freshly made drink. He might have sped up the tempo to wrap it up faster so that he could check on you, worried for a moment that you might have caught a bug or food poisoning or something.

That was until he caught you outside of the bathroom, and saw just how flustered you’d been and he knew.

It took everything in him not to push you back into the tiny bathroom and have his way with you right then and there. He was hit with an image bending you over the sink, and showing you just how good you looked coming around his cock.

However, a hot and dirty quickie at the Hard Deck wouldn’t have been enough for him.

He knew exactly how he wanted you: flustered, flushed, and thoroughly fucked.

So yeah, he floored the gas pedal needing to feel your body under his as soon as possible. And it didn’t hurt that it probably cleared out some of the engine build up in the Bronco along the way either.

He pressed you against the door the second you’d gotten inside, letting you rock your hips against his thigh as he sucked along the curve of your collarbone. Your hands coming up to tug at the curls at the top of his head.

“U-upstairs,” you gasp when he grazes his teeth along the swell of your breast.

You didn’t need to tell him twice.

He lifts you up, and your legs wrap around him immediately. It had taken all of his will power not to slip his hands up your frilly dress at the Hard Deck. He loved any chance to he got to get his hands on your ass.

He almost misses the first step going up the stairs when you drag your hot mouth along his neck.

“Wait, wait,” you pant in his ear, “Put me down.”

“It’s fine, I got you,” he promises as he tightens his grip on you.

You pull away and shake your head at him, “I don’t want either of us to end up in the Emergency Room for a sex related accident. Could you imagine? Jake would never let us live it down, and Nat would be worse.”

“It’d be worth it though,” he winks at you.

“You say that now, until you’re stuck in a neck brace unable to fly or have sex,” you admonish jokingly, stroking the side of his throat with the scars he earned from that night at Jason Cameron’s homecoming party.

“Yeah, but you could still ride me. The way I see it, it’s a win-win either way,” he chuckles at the exasperated way you roll your eyes.

“You’re handsome, but I don’t think even you could pull off the color of those hospital gowns,” you quip with a quick peck to his lips, “Now, hands off the goods.”

Giving your ass one more squeeze, he lets you slide down his body. He may not have his hands on you anymore, but it doesn’t stop him from admiring your figure as you bound up the stairs in front of him.

He stops short at the threshold of his bedroom at the sight of you pulling your dress over your head. Of all your soft skin on display for him.

There were times he still couldn’t believe he got to have you like this.

How did he think it could have ever just been a friendship with you?

He liked how comfortable you were in this space with him, liked how perfectly your things fit in with his.

He liked knowing that one of the pillows on the bed smelled like you.

He liked knowing that if he went in the bathroom he would find your expensive shampoo and conditioner in there next to his.

He liked knowing that if he opened the drawer on one of the nightstands that he would find your lip balm, your lavender lotion, a vibrator from your place that had found a home here, and a notebook and pen in case you needed to remember to do something because you didn’t like having your phone in bed.

What he currently liked most about his bedroom was the way your dress was decorating the floor, and the way you were kneeling on his bed like a vision.

You were wearing a matching pale pink lace set he’d never seen before. Your skin was peeking through the floral embroidery of the sheer mesh in an all too enticing way.

You were his sweet girl.

“Come here,” you beckon, inching closer to the edge of the wooden canopy bed.

He’s not one to deny you, he’d willingly go wherever you wanted. He saunters in towards you slowly, putting on a bit of a show for you as he comes to stand before you.

“I like this, it’s pretty,” he hums as he runs his knuckles slowly over the edge of the embroidered cups, enjoying the way you lean further into him.

Cupping your jaw, he pulls you forward for a lingering kiss. Being this close to you, the smell of your musky floral perfume is intensifying thumping of his pulse.

Your hands slide under his Hawaiian print shirt, helping to ease it off his body and then tossing it somewhere near your dress. You ruck the tank he has underneath up his chest and he reaches down to pull it over his head as your hands run over the ridges of his abs.

His body has been humming for yours since the bar. The hurried encounter at the door barely managed to take any of the edge off, and he was still just as starved for you as he had been when he saw you holding that drink looking at him like he was something to be devoured.

His left hand moves from where it’s been settled on the flare of your hip and up your back to the clasp of your pretty bra.

He’s been letting you take the lead, but you’re not nearly naked enough for him.

“Hands to yourself,” you mutter as you work to get his belt undone, “I’m trying to get you naked you here.”

Part of him wants to take his time with you, to take you apart slowly and see what new sounds he can uncover. The other part of him wants to have you holding onto that rich espresso colored headboard while he shows you just how much he appreciates you wearing this little set just for him.

“You like my hands,” he murmurs against your neck. He is quick to unhook the clasp of your bra with one hand, easing it down your arms and flinging it behind him.

Yet another offering to his bedroom floor.

And then he is trailing his fingers down your soft stomach, dipping them under the band of your matching panties.

He groans when he discovers you’re already wet for him. He finds your clit, and teases you there making gentle figure-eights with his finger, “Got yourself so worked up you couldn’t even stick around for the end of the damn song, huh?”

You’re quick to abandon your crusade against his favorite pair of jeans, leaving him unbuckled and half unzipped, as you circle your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you.

“God, your fingers feel so much better than mine,” you sigh against his mouth as he licks his lips before bringing them back to yours.

Your full lips soften under his demanding ones, the sensual slide of your lips against his has him desperate for more.

He slips his tongue in your mouth taking advantage of your gasp as his circles against you turn from teasing to purposeful. The kiss turning messy with need. With want.

“I know another part of my body that you like just as much,” he murmurs, as he palms your ass.

Your hand starts moving down his chest, down his stomach.

“Nuh-uh,” he tsks, catching your tricky hand before it has a chance to reach his cock, bringing it back up to rest on his shoulder.

“I want to touch you,” you whisper against the spot below his ear that you know drives him wild.

“I’m getting you off right now,” he says firmly as he speeds up his motions against your clit.

It doesn’t take long before he has you panting against his mouth, your hips rocking against his fingers.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, “Let me give you what you want.”

He knows from the sweet whimpers you’re making that you’re close, he breaks away from your kiss to hold your half-lidded gaze as you come for him.

He will never get tired of watching you fall apart.

He will never get tired of seeing you satisfied and spread across his bed.

Giving you a moment to catch your breath, he shucks off his jeans and his briefs, releasing a small groan as his cock springs free. He’s been hard for you since he cornered you by the bathroom at the bar. Sending you a lazy-half smile at the way your eyes take him in standing there above you as he slowly pumps himself.

He knows he looks good, it’s literally his job to keep his body in peak condition.

But you make him feel good.

No one knows him better than you, makes him laugh harder than you, makes him feel as important as you do. Your appreciative gaze of his body is just another bonus to the many ways you make him feel good about himself.

He climbs on the bed, settling between the cradle of your open thighs.

“You gonna tell me what got you so keyed up, sweet girl?” he asks in-between scattering kisses across your cheeks.

“That’s classified,” you retort breathlessly as you wrap your legs around him.

“Is it now?” he grinned, kissing along the delicate line of your jaw. He’ll let you keep your secret for now, he had other more pressing questions he wanted answers to, “Did you touch yourself when you ran off to the bathroom?”

“No,” you whine, as he pulls your nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue.

“Did you think about it? Think about me?”

He wanted to know. He needed to know that he drove you just as crazy as you did him.

“Yes,” you gasped out in confession when he moves to your other breast, giving it the same attention, “I’m always thinking about you.”

Good.

“Already know how you feel about my fingers,” he rasps as he kisses down your stomach, making sure to place one on the little tattoo near your hipbone. “Should I let you have my mouth too, sweet girl?”

“Yes,” you breathe working your hands into the curls at the top of his head, “Please.”

“Yeah, I think so too,” he agrees mouthing at the last little bit of lace still on your body.

He pulls off your pretty pink panties and throws them somewhere behind him, probably landing on that overpriced dresser he bought for you.

He loved that he was the one who got to see you like this. Your hair was a mess from his hands, you pupils were blown wide, and your flushed chest rising and falling with rapid shallow breaths.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says reverently before licking a firm stripe parting you open.

It’s not long before his mouth is meticulously working between your thighs, his tongue gliding over your clit, one of your legs thrown over his shoulder.

He’s sliding his finger into you and then another, making room in your body, determined to pull a second orgasm from you.

You’re so wet for him, so soft for him, so sweet for him.

He knows what you like. He’s studied your body just as thoroughly he did the aircraft manuals he was given, if not more so.

“More,” you moan, your hips rolling from the stimulation, “I need more.”

Pulling away from you with one more broad lick of his tongue, he leans his head against the thigh that’s thrown over his shoulder, watching your face as he pushes another finger into you. The way you’re pressing your heel into the muscles of his back has him fighting the urge to grind himself into the bed.

“You look so good like this,” he praises, taking in the way you writhe against the three fingers he has buried deep in you, as he squeezes you hip with his other hand.

He’s seen a lot of unforgettable sights from the cockpit of his plane, but nothing will ever compete with the way you look as you chase your release. Your eyes fighting to say open as you watch him watching you.

“Oh my god,” you exhale when he hits that spot inside of you, your leg starting to tremble with the need, “Please, I’m so close.”

Using his fingers and mouth in tandem, he works you with same pressure, the same pace. He feels you clenching around his fingers a few moments later, your back arching in pleasure as you fly apart for him.

Teasing his lips and mustache along the sensitive skin at the crease of your thigh, as you come down from your high, before kissing his way back up your body. Your greedy hands reaching out for him, pulling him to your mouth. He feeds you his tongue, letting you taste yourself on him.

The way you’re whimpering beneath him is making him feel out of control.

“I want you inside me.”

Wrapping his large hand around his cock, he drags it through your folds few times before he finally lines himself up at your center.

And then he’s finally pushing into you, savoring the way you cling to him as he gives you a moment to adjust to his size.

“Rooster,” you say with a sigh against his lips.

He starts to move when your hips start to shift seeking more friction. And then he’s rocking into you with the smooth, deep strokes that never fail to make your toes curl. Once, twice, three times.

��What’d you say?” he asks, as he slows the pace down.

Your hands are in his hair, and you tug on the strands when he pulls away to look at you. Your lips are swollen, but he knows that look in your eye. He can already can guess what you’re going to respond with before your lips have even formed the word.

“R-ooster.”

The word comes out a stutter, as he roughly thrusts into you again.

He doesn’t know why he’s bothered asking, he should have known that you were going to make him work for the one thing he wants to hear.

“Say my name.”

He was so gone for you, he wants you riled up and feeling the same way as him. He wants his neighbors to hear you saying his name. Wants them to know that he’s the one making you feel so good.

“Lieutenant,” you taunt, not bother trying to hide the self-satisfied on your face.

If he wasn’t going to get what he wanted then neither were you.

He pulls out of you completely, flipping you over on the forest green duvet. His hand coming down on your ass, a quick sharp slap.

The sting of it has you gasping into your forearms pillowed underneath your head, and your cunt fluttering around nothing.

Leaning forward, he kisses down the length of your spine admiring the way the goosebumps pebble on your skin now.

“Say my name,” he coaxes again.

He tugs your hips up and licks deeply into you once before pulling away. Watching smugly on his knees at the way your hips tilt up after him, your legs spreading further apart as you offer more of yourself to him.

“Bradshaw,” you counter.

Closer, but still not what he wants to hear.

His open hand connects on the other side of your perfect ass, earning him a sweet moan from you.

Grasping his cock to slide it through your wetness, he stops just short of where he knows you want to feel it the most.

He wants you dazed. He wants you desperate for him.

You’ve always been the type to take a mile when you’re given an inch. And he intends to only let you have exactly eight inches tonight.

“You want this cock?” he rasps.

He knows he’s got you where he wants you when you don’t reply with another bratty remark, only desperately nodding ‘yes’ into the mattress.

“Look at me,” he demands.

You’re slow to lift your head up to look back at him, your eyes are a little glazed over as you take him in. You look as wrecked as he feels. He can only imagine what he looks like through your eyes. He can feel the sweat collecting at his temples, can feel the flush that’s working its way down his neck to his chest.

“You know what I wanna hear, kid.”

That makes you whine.

“Oh, you wanna be my sweet girl now, huh?” he asks, squeezing your hips.

He wants to taste that lower lip, the one that’s pouting prettily at him as you nod for him again. Even now as you writhe against him you’re still trying to get your own way, still trying to get him to break first.

“Well, you know what to do,” he feels like barely hanging on now, “Say. My. Name.”

He punctuates each word with the rock of his hips, his cock just grazing your clit. Enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to give you the stimulation that you want.

“Bradley!” you cry out.

He’s inside of you before you’ve even gotten the second syllable out.

Groaning your name, he throws his head back at the sensation of finally being surrounded by you again.

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he tries to ask teasingly, but it comes out more a rumble than anything else. “My sweet girl.”

Your pussy squeezes him harder at the praise as you roll your hips up more to better accept his body in yours. He loved the view he had, loved seeing how wet you were for him, loved seeing just how well he filled you, loved seeing you stretched around him.

He leaned forward a bit, brushing back your hair off your face to see you better. The change in angle making you gasp as you fisted the material beneath you.

“Say it again,” he prompts, smoothing a hand down your back, “I wanna hear you say it again.”

His name.

The only thing he wanted running through your mind.

His name.

The only thing he wants coming from your mouth, other than the sweet whimpers and moans he is pulling from you.

“Bradley,” you indulge, his name sounding something between a plead and a purr.

Without disrupting the pace he’s set, he nudges your knees further apart. Wrapping an arm around your middle to pull you up against his chest, needing to be closer to you.

“Go on, let them hear who is making you feel this good,” he grunts roughly in your ear.

“Brad-ley,” the staccato of his name punctuated by his steady thrusts against you. Your hand digging into his hip.

Interlocking his fingers with yours, he lifts your arm to hook it around the back of his neck, holding you to him there. Turning your head, you greedily mouth at the column of his throat, frenzied and wet.

You were it for him, there was no question about it. And he would happily prove to you in all the ways he could think of that he was it for you too. There’s nothing he wants more than to make you feel good. To please you. To give you the best you’ve ever had.

His other hand slides up from where he had been squeezing your waist to get his hand on your breast. He loves how perfectly you fit in his hand.

He meets you for a kiss, sloppy and perfect, messy and deep.

He can’t control the sounds of satisfaction escaping him as you move together, feeding off of your sighs and moans. Your hands are grabbing onto whatever part of him is in reach: his hair, his thigh, his arm.

Enjoying the drag of his cock as he moves in you, he lets himself get lost in the sensation of being connected with you like this. The room filled with the sounds of labored breathing, of your bodies coming together, of you saying his name over and over again.

You’re starting to tremble in his arms, he’s pretty sure your legs would have given out by now if it were for the way he was holding you against him. Your nails biting into the back of his neck, as he slowly drags a hand down your body to where you’re connected.

“I love this,” you murmur into the base of this throat.

He doesn’t know if you realized you said it out loud, doesn’t know if you meant to say it out loud, but he loves hearing it all the same.

“God, you feel so good,” he can feel the sensation building at the base of his spine, “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”

The way his circles his fingers against your clit has you gasping into his waiting mouth.

“Bradley, please.”

He’d give you anything. He’d give you everything.

“C’mon then,” he insisted hoarsely, pressing his forehead against the side of your temple, “Say it for me one more time, sweet girl.”

He speeds up his fingers, set on ending you. Working your body with the precision that he handles his sixty-five million dollar aircraft. Determined to give you what you’re so sweetly asking for.

And it’s his name you gasp as you come undone.

Your is head thrown back against his shoulder as you spasm around his cock, your hips rolling as you are lost to the pleasure of your orgasm. He kisses your neck and lightens the pressure of his fingers on your clit, wanting to extend it out for you as much as possible, enjoying the tiny pulsing aftershocks he is drawing from you.

It’s only when he feels you go boneless that he starts to lose his own composure. His breathing going completely ragged and hips snapping erratically against you as he chases his own climax.

A few more powerful strokes later he follows you coming hard with a groan, burying his face in your neck as he spills in you.

Somehow, he manages to get you both sprawled out horizontal on the bed without him completely crushing you.

“Holy shit,” he curses flinging an arm over his eyes, his other reaching out to touch whatever part of you he can find. There’s nothing but the sound of the blood rushing in his ears as he tries to catch his breath.

Time gets away from him as he runs his hand up and down your back. It could have been a few minutes or an hour when he feels the bed move, and you slipping out of his grasp as you get up to use the bathroom.

“No, stay,” he attempts to pull you back to him, feeling the need to have you close again as he tries to settle back into his body. You’re seemingly recovering much quicker than he is at the moment.

“I won’t even be gone two minutes, you can time me.” He can hear the soft affection in your voice.

“Don’t think I won’t,” he grouses halfheartedly lifting up the arm with his watch on. He manages to raise his head up in time to get a glimpse of your naked figure as you close the door behind you.

True to your word, you are back one minute and forty-seven seconds later. He opens his arms to you as you climb back on his bed and drape yourself half over him.

Much better.

He feels you shift yourself up a few moments later to press a kiss to the scar on his shoulder.

“I just want to try something,” you murmur before making your way along the bend of his collarbone.

Up the side of his neck.

He feels his pulse start to kick up again as you work your way up the line of his jaw. He tilts his head away to give you more access to his skin there, basking in the feel of your lips on his body.

“Bradley,” you whisper lightly against the shell of his ear.

The guttural groan that rips through him surprises him. He feels his cock twitch against his thigh, a visceral reaction to you.

And then you’re giggling.

“I knew it,” you get out between fits of laughter, “You’ve got a name kink.”

Your face pure joy at your discovery. He’ll happily let you tease him for the rest of his life as long as you keep looking at him like that.

“Nah, I got a you kink,” he says as he hauls you on top of him.

“I’m already planning on letting you have your way with me again tonight, Bradley,” you proudly declare, propping yourself up on his chest, smiling down at him. “You don’t have to try so hard, I’m a sure thing.”

If he wasn’t already gone for you, the cheeky wink you sent him would have sealed the deal.

He feels himself already starting to get hard again, one of the perks of being a part of the 1%.

“Sweet girl, you’re gonna be the end of me,” he chuckles, running his hands up your back, “And I remember someone once telling me that they give as good as they get, so I won’t be dialing it in anytime soon.”

And then he is pulling you down for a kiss.

Later that night when you’re riding him so good, you get him chanting your name.

Over, and over, and over again.

A couple hours later, he watches you slip away into slumber, satisfied and spent beneath the fluffy comforter on the bed.

His bed. Your bed. Their bed.

It was just as much yours as it was his, regardless of whether you were officially living together yet or not. He bought it for you, after all.

Even on the occasional nights you spent apart, you were still everywhere.

He liked the plants you had picked to fill out the empty spaces in the room. He liked that the right side of the bed was your side of the bed. That those were your books on the nightstand, the bookmarks peeking out waiting for you to pick up where you left off.

There was a trinket tray for your jewelry on top of the dresser right next to the to the leather watch display box that you had gotten him for his birthday. And the drawers of that well-made, but overpriced wooden dresser were filling up with more and more of your things, just like he had hoped for when he got it.

He smiled to himself as he gently stroked your hair. The last time he was at your place, he had accidentally seen the letter from your apartment’s leasing office confirming your decision to not renew your rental agreement and your move out date. He hadn’t told you he knew, he’d rather hear it from you anyways.

You would always be worth the wait.

The packages that were delivered to the door?

His, for now, until you moved in a couple months from now.

The name signed on the lease for the condo?

His, for now, until you were ready to ink yours down on a deed for a new home with him.

The little velvet box tucked away in the back corner of his nightstand?

His, for now, but always meant to be yours.

You can thank @mak-32 and her photo set of Rooster at the piano for this fic!

Also, many many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse for being my go-to gal! I wouldn’t have been brave enough to post the smut if she hadn’t given me the all-caps go ahead!

Here’s Bradley’s bedroom, if you’re curious!

You can check my other fics out here!

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@sehnsuchts-trunken @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes @soleilgrec @keyrani @finelytaylored @phantomxoxo @viridianphtalo @chicomonks @starryeyedstories

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic

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