#and approved of bradley

[nixie-deangel]

if your're still taking emojis I would like to ask for 🍼🍼, 🥰🥰 and ✨✨

🍼 non navy bradley/fighter pilot jake as parents - hangster

“Man, she’s adorable,” Javy grinned, smiling down at the seven month old sleeping in his arms. “Most get it all from Bradley,” he teases and grins wider as he watches Jake scoff loudly and Bradley let out a cackle.  “Baby, you have got to bring him home more, I like him, he’s great,” Bradley grins, turning to smile at Jake nothing but love and affection in his eyes, written into the lines of his face.  “You’re only saying that, darlin’, cause he thinks you're cool because our daughter is,” Jake snarked back with a grin. “And she obviously gets it from me,” Bradley says, smile widening as he moves to poke Jake in his side, causing him to let out a squeak of laughter.  “Lies, honey, it’s all lies,” Jake laughed, playfully shoving Bradley back.

🥰 Kinktober - Virgin Bradley

“I do,” Bradley whispers, shyly, glancing at Jake before looking away quickly. “I do. I just. I just don’t want to ruin my chances with you,” he explains, awkward and tentative, eyes flickering to look at him before moving away quickly. Again and again. Jake reached out slowly, giving Bradley enough to move back or swat him a way if he wanted to, before gently cupping his cheeks and tilting his head enough Jake could look him in the eyes as he spoke to him. “Darlin’, I’ve been waitin’ more than a decade 'for you to give me any indication you’d let me have you. So there ain’t a damn thing you could do, that would send me runnin’ for the hills, honey. Nothin’ at all.”

✨ Retired Bradley, Jake climbing Command

Bradley laughs, soft and fond, as he watches Jake stumble at the sight of him. Smiling, he gives a little wave, only slightly awkward considering it had been nearly half a decade since he had last laid eyes on the man. “How are you?” “Uh, good? I’m good,” Jake answers, stumbling over his words, as his eyes kept roaming all over him. “You. Curls?” he asks, a little strangled before he gives his head a little shake and seems to be trying to gather himself.

Make Nixie Write!

[beezelarts]

[robinsnest2111]

ugh just thought about..... no workplace murder au, where Randy eventually invites Benson to spend a day at his place,

Randy's already warned him how overbearing and protective his mom is, how she kept referring to Benson coming over as a playdate, how that makes Randy's skin crawl. To prepare Benson for what he's about to experience when he does come over.

Benson cleans up really well, puts on his best clothes; his most charming expressions and sweet talk at the ready. He will get Mrs. Bradley's approval, no matter what.

He plays nice all day, buttering Randy's mom up, going the extra mile, all to secure his place in Randy's life. At Randy's side. It works like a charm.

After dropping off snacks and drinks in Randy's room, his mom leaves them alone for a while, Benson having already gained her trust he'll treat her boy all nice and sweet (which is only half true. He does want to be gentle with Randy. But he wants to do some less wholesome things to and with him as well. All in due time).

Benson grabs a cookie off the platter placed on Randy's dresser, takes a bite and silently studies the boy's room. All the pictures and posters, the art supplies, the model boats and ships on the shelves. He spots the small vinyl collection, immediately intrigued, wipes the cookie crumbs stuck to his fingers into his jeans, and proceeds to gingerly flip through them.

Randy sits on his bed while he watches Benson take in his room, as if he were studying paintings and sculptures at a museum, trying to find more clues on who Randy is as a person. It's a scary thought, but also exciting in a way. Letting someone in like this. Into his room, his sanctuary. Letting Benson study him so closely, trusting him with his belongings, his passions, all things he had hidden away from the world for so long.

Benson snaps Randy out of his thoughts by way of asking about his vinyls. Which one is his favourite record, favourite song? What drew him to the artists?

Benson joins Randy on his bed, sitting on the edge of the soft mattress. They spend some time talking about music, about the boats and ships, about the art supplies. Eventually Benson gets Randy to show him some of his sketches. They're no Mona Lisa, but they look like they hold a lot of meaning, a lot of emotion. Randy admits the therapist his mom took him to after an incident in elementary school recommended he pick up art as a form of stress relief, to cope with what happened and express himself. And he simply kept at it over the past 14 years.

On the most recent pages are sketches of Burgers Burgers Burgers. The interior, the counter, the displays, a table with the napkin dispensers, little snippets of his work days, no people in any of them. In the corner, in the background of one sketch though, there's a lone figure in their usual work uniform. Leaning against the wall, watching. Benson recognises himself, this must've been during the first weeks of Randy joining the Burgers Burgers Burgers team. He slowly looks up at Randy, seeing the dawning realisation on his boy's face. The slight blush of embarrassment rising to his cheeks.

Benson closes the sketchbook and puts it aside, slowly raising a hand to take hold of Randy's chin, turning his face just so. Benson looks at him, expression unreadable, eyes drifting down to his lips. He leans in to give Randy a short and sweet kiss. It's over in the blink of an eye, Randy turning an even deeper shade of red, still trying to not die of embarrassment over Benson discovering his fascination with him via his art. Judging by the kiss (HIS FIRST KISS!) Benson doesn't mind having caught Randy's attention so early into his career at that lousy little burger joint.

[curtvilescomic]

X of Madelyne by Bradley A Clayton. All hail Goblin Queen!

[yeahyankee]

D&D: Honor Among Thieves is the exact kind of cheesed-out crack that I feel like only a group of D&D players could come up with.

I mean…JARNATHAN? The spell of Duplicity gone wrong? The Potatoes?

This was someone’s campaign. 🤣

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

Hangman: Do you mind if I use the kitchen?

Maverick(to Rooster): He cooks?! You didn't tell me he cooks...!

[kkecreads]

A Body Washes Ashore by Bradley Pay

A Body Washes Ashore by Bradley Pay

Published: October 30, 222 Bradley Pay Pages: 353 Genre: Thriller KKECReads Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ This title is available to read for free with a Kindle Unlimited subscription, and I leave my review voluntarily. Bradley Pay is the pen name for Robin Bradley and Jody Leber-Pay. These close friends bond over their love of storytelling, spinning elaborate contemporary fiction novels that defy…

[nixie-deangel]

OKAY @redfurrycat YOU CAN'T JUST ASK ME THINGS LIKE THAT!! Especially after I already questioned if I should be sharing more for this universe!

To answer you, Jake wouldn't take any hit that could potentially hurt Bradley, he's simply kill the person that came to him asking about it! But before, he'd obviously find out who else could potentially want Bradley's estranged person dead, and ensure that those people know that whoever it is, is off limits or Jake will be very mad!

(are we thinking Mav/Ice as Bradley's person? because in my head for this, Bradley at the point where Jake meets him has literally no one because his mom has already passed and he's cut Mav and Ice out of his life because they pulled his papers to the academy already. So Bradley is just, so tired. so alone. and so ready for Jake to sweep him off his feet and pamper him)

But also, have my more deranged/world building thoughts about this au:

Jake has two brothers and four sisters, coming from a very large southern family. He's both the youngest boy AND one of the babies of the family, because he was a triplet with two of his sisters. Though he does like to remind them he's older than Jolene by four minutes and Jane by 11 minutes.

Jake sort of stumbled his way into killing/finding out he was a serial killer, by being kidnapped at the age of 15 and ending up killing two of his kidnappers before he was "rescued" and returned to his family.

Afterwards he kind of does a deep dive in the criminal element and then decides fuck it, he liked how it felt, the control, the power and then just. decided that's what he'd do.

As far as his family knows, he does contract work using his "accounting" degree. Which he does have, he just doesn't use it.

The first time Bradley and Jake meet, Bradley says the most bitches thing he can to Jake at the bar he's working at because he's just gotten yet another hospital bill reminder, been told his rent is going up AND gotten yet another message from Mav and Ice and poor Jake just wanted a beer to celebrate a completed contract (the only reason he's in San Diego) and comes face to face with the sexiest man he's ever seen, who doesn't seem to mind that Bradley is being an out right bitch to Jake.

And of course Jake is just stunned AND turned on because no one, literally no one, has ever spoken to him like that. Not even the people he deals with in the shadows and dark??? So he's at first like ????? but then very quickly into it.

Everyone in Jake's family is shocked when he suddenly announces he's moving to San Diego out of nowhere.

And even more so when nearly three months later he announces he's bring his boyfriend home to meet the family.

Everyone is like ?!!!????!?!?!?!?!?!?! but also super welcoming to Bradley because the first day they clearly see a difference in Jake and don't want to be the cause of any problems for their brother/son.

Please they love how Bradley will give Jake as good as he gives.

Bradley absolutely DOES NOT QUESTION when Jake just starts dropping money on him, by quite literally tipping him the $5000 he needs to cover his rent, be able to get food for the month AND be able to pay the bill for the medical debt that month. Bradley just blinks, tells Jake he isn't fucking him, he's not that kind of lady.

Jake just grins and tells him no worries, all Bradley has to do is accept Jake's gift and let him know the next night he works, if Bradley is comfortable with that, so he can come badly first with him again.

Two days later Bradley gets a phone call from the insurance company/hospital, letting him know the bill has been paid in full.

Bradley blinks, blinks again, nods dumbly and then has to wait two days before he has a shift at the bar again and waits till the end of his shift before he asks Jake if he did it.

When Jake says he did, Bradley proceeds to tell Jake to take him home, so he can ride him for all he's worth.

Within two weeks Jake has Bradley all but moved in with him and down to just one job and has gotten Bradley to agree to let him pay off his college/university debts.

(Bradley got injured and lost his scholarship and had to payback money because of it. (idk if that's a thing but to really just dump on Bradley here, I'm saying it's a thing.))

By the time Jake brings Bradley home, Bradley is well rested, well fucked and happy for the first time in years because he has no worries and his someone doting on him with all the love he wants, needs, can stand.

just got a unhinged Hangster idea where Jake comes from a RICH family and who moonlights as a contract killer and is a serial killer, who meets completely ordinary Bradley, who is just absolutely drowning in debt, most from his mom's medical care and his university school and is working three jobs and just barely managing to scrape by and doesn't question this rich goes sudden interest in him.

nor does Bradly care when Jake starts insisting on buying him things, or paying for things because he's just so tried and lonely and just desperately wants someone to take care of him.

and who better to do that then a hot unhinged man, who seems to have money he wants to spend and just wants to make him happy?

just. Pillow princess pampered Bradley (it's what he deserves!!!) and service top Jake, who's covered in blood and blushing so pretty as Bradley breathily tells him how good he is, while he rails Bradley within an inch of his life.

I just have a mighty need y'all.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 62 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley could tell how important it was to you, so he spent the morning after the wedding night helping you fill out adoption paperwork. Christmas was fast approaching, as was your next appointment, and he had never seen Noah so happy before. He'd never been this happy before either.

Warnings: pregnancy topics, swearing, smut, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

You spent the day after your wedding snuggled up on the couch with Bradley and Skittles, reading over the adoption paperwork one last time before signing everything. "You're officially Noah's stepmom now," Bradley whispered as you watched the swirl of ink from the pen turn into your signature. You still wanted to change your last name, but this was the most important thing to you. This was what you wanted the most right now.

"I just want to be his mom."

He kissed your ear, the deep rumble of his laughter making you smile. "You've been that for a while, Princess."

"Yeah, but for real though," you said, turning to look back at him as you sat perched on his lap. "Once this gets approved, which could still take weeks even though they will probably waive all of the inspection protocols, I'll change my last name. Then we can pay to have an updated adoption certificate where we all have the same last name."

He nodded and gently turned you to face him. "We'll drop your adoption paperwork off tomorrow with the county clerk. Tracy said it's all in order. And then we get to find out about this little one."

You kissed him while he caressed your belly. "And then it will be Christmas."

"Like my Christmas in July birthday party," he murmured against your lips. His mustache was rough and perfect, and soon he was untying the drawstring of your lounge pants. "You feel like giving me a few minutes of your time, Mrs. Bradshaw? Before our son gets home from Penny's?"

He helped you out of your pants and your underwear, and you whispered, "I guess this is our honeymoon," with a little laugh.

"Nah," he grunted as he yanked his sweatpants down until his thick cock was free and bobbing against his thigh. He met your eyes as you took him in both of your hands. "I already told you, we can go anywhere you want next year. Just me and you."

When you lined him up with your opening, you took him inch by inch listening to his deep groan as he slowly filled you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his cheek as you felt yourself fluttering softly around him. "Is this okay?" you whispered without moving your hips, even though you could tell by his eyes that he loved it. "If we just do this for a few minutes?"

"Keep me warm, Princess."

You kissed your way from his lips to his mustache and along his jaw. He smelled and tasted so familiar, you never wanted to stop touching him. You never wanted his hands to stop their gentle exploration of your hips and belly. Your fingers found their way to his hair as you said, "We should get Noah a Christmas tree. We could put it in the corner next to the front window."

"Absolutely, Baby," he whimpered as you clenched softly while keeping yourself still. "We can pick out some presents for him, too."

You weren't sure how you already felt like you were going to come when you weren't even moving, but the desperation in his voice and the brush of his rough hairs against our clit were sending you there. "Let's get him a bike with training wheels," you moaned while he pulled your shirt up and over your head. "Watching you teach him how to ride it would be so hot, Daddy."

And what that, he scooped you up so gently and held you to his chest with his cock still buried deep. He eased you down onto the floor while you clung to him, and he set you down next to the snag in the area rug. His big body was pressed to yours, but you knew he'd never hurt you. The pressure was delicious, but it was never too much against your belly.

Bradley kissed your breasts, thrusting with deep, long strokes and holding your hands above your head. "Call me Daddy again."

"Daddy," you gasped as he pulled your nipple between his teeth before sucking on it. "You're my Daddy."

"Mmm, that's right," he rasped, kissing his way up to your lips. "And what does Daddy do for you?" You were panting, your arms pinned in place as he kept his thrusts even and steady. "Tell me."

"Anything I want!" you cried out, your gaze on the snagged rug as he pressed his mouth to your ear.

"Anything you want. Do you want to come?"

Your voice was lighter than air as you said, "Yes." Because you were already there. "Yes." 

You came on his cock while he braced his hands on either side of your head, his face turning red as he fucked you a little faster. When you reached up to run your fingers along his cheek, still gripping him as you orgasmed, he kissed your wrist. "I love you, Mrs. Bradshaw."

You and he were still finishing when you heard a car door slam outside, and he was still inside your pussy when there was a knock on the front door. You started giggling as he whispered, "Perfect timing," before picking you up again. He set you down on your feet, scooped up your clothing and swatted at your rear end while his cum dripped down your thighs. "Go get dressed, and I'll let them in."

You pranced off toward the bedroom, calling out in a singsong voice, "Don't forget your cock is still hanging out."

"Thank you," he replied as you giggled more and made a pitstop in the bathroom. You could already hear Noah asking for you. You could hear him telling Bradley he made you macaroni art. You couldn't wait to adopt him.

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

"You don't need me here. You know that, right?" Tracy asked as she cracked open a Red Bull and looked at the adoption paperwork. 

You gave Bradley a miserable look as he collected you into his arms. You were nervous, afraid somebody would find something wrong with the forms you and he filled out together. So he called Tracy first thing on Monday morning and asked her to come to the clerk's office and look over everything. He offered to pay her double her hourly rate.

"I panicked," you whispered, barely loud enough for Bradley and Tracy to hear you. "I want this to go off without a hitch."

Tracy sighed and smiled softly. "Here, hold this," she said, thrusting her drink into Bradley's hand as she flipped through the pages. "You've got proof of marriage. Proof of citizenship. Proof of Noah's birth mother being incarcerated��and losing custody of him." She looked up and added, "You're welcome for that one."

Bradley laughed in the quiet hallway before pulling himself together while you tried to cover his mouth. "Bradley, shh!"

"It's all in order," Tracy eventually said, handing the papers back to you and snatching up her Red Bull. "It's perfect."

"Thank you, Tracy," you whispered. Bradley watched you hug her while she tried not to spill the drink on her suit or on you, and his heart swelled with love. This was so important to you. Noah and he were both so important to you. He'd never been a priority like this before, not since his mom died. And now Noah was thriving with you in their lives.

"I brought my checkbook," he said, reaching to pull it out of the back pocket of his uniform pants. "Double for the hour?"

Tracy shook her head as you finally released her. "Consider it another wedding gift. And happy holidays."

You had tears in your eyes as she walked away. "We need to send her a case of Red Bull. Two cases. Three! Order them when you order Noah's bike."

"Okay," he laughed. "I will. Now let's hand this in so we can make it official as soon as possible."

You yanked open the door to the clerk's office and waited in the short line with Bradley right behind you. When you got to the front, you stated your name and what you were there for. "I want to adopt my stepson." The words were so important to you and to him, and your voice shook with emotion while the clerk collected the paperwork and your fingerprints. And that was it. Three minutes later, and you were in the parking lot with your arms wrapped around Bradley's neck.

"Are you okay, Baby?" he asked while you cried.

"Yeah," you said as your voice broke. "But I just want to go home and color my Princess book with Noah. I don't know if I can wait several weeks to hear back about this. I'll never make it."

He hooked his fingers under your chin and whispered, "Time will fly by. Tomorrow is a big day."

Your bright smile left him breathless. "We get to find out about the baby."

He nodded and guided you so your back was pressed to the Bronco. "I can't wait to find out if I'm painting the nursery blue or purple."

"Daddy," you laughed, bouncing in place a little bit. "Noah is going to be the best big brother either way."

"He can pass down your ants on logs recipe to number two," he whispered, and you laughed harder. 

"He can teach the baby that only one of us can be trusted in the kitchen."

"I resent that," Bradley said with a smile as he leaned in close and kissed you as you giggled. "I need to get to work. You'll pick Noah up later?"

"Yes."

"And you'll start dinner?"

"Well I'm certainly not going to let you do it."

Bradley glared at you playfully. "I was going to suggest we take Noah to pick out a little spruce tree for the living room after we eat, but perhaps not."

"Perhaps yes!" you insisted. "It's happening!"

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

You barely slept on Monday night, too excited by the smell of the fresh tree in the living room and the excitement bubbling up inside you whenever you thought about your appointment. You curled up in Bradley's arms, enjoying the warmth he always gave you, and you let him sleep while you thought about raising two kids in this perfect house.

As soon as your alarm chimed, you were shaking your husband awake and straddling his hips. "Daddy. It's baby day!"

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and grimaced in response. "What time is it?"

"Time to go see the baby," you whispered loudly, and now Skittles was up and pawing at the bed. "Come on."

"You know," he groaned, "for someone who doesn't care if we're having a boy or a girl, you're really excited right now."

"I just want to know," you whined, leaning down to kiss him along his stubble. "And then we can decorate the tree and order presents online later."

Bradley sat up with you all over him. "I don't even have any decorations for the tree, Baby."

You weren't deterred in the least. "Noah and I are going to make them. And I guess you can help, too."

"Your generosity amazes me," he whispered before kissing you so well, you wanted to push him back down onto the bed, but you pulled away instead.

"Stop trying to distract me. Let's get Noah ready so we can go."

When the three of you eventually dropped him off at preschool, you greeted Casey with a bright smile. She only focused on Noah and Bradley, but you didn't even care about her shitty attitude anymore. "Have a nice day, Casey!" You managed to get a scowl in return.

Bradley chuckled as you yanked him back to the Bronco. "Why did you have to instigate with her?"

"I was being nice!" you insisted as he started driving to your appointment. "It's not entirely her fault that you're hot and Noah is sweet. The Bradshaw boys are tempting."

He shook his head and said, "The Bradshaw boys are a mess. Or we were. Not anymore, I suppose." Your husband reached for your hand while he drove. You played with his fingers, absolutely buzzing with excitement. You had to keep reminding yourself that he'd already been through all of these things before when Meredith was pregnant with Noah, but he surprised you when he parked at the medical complex.

"Let's go, Daddy," you said, shoving his hand back at him so you could climb out, but he held on tight. When you looked back at him, his face looked serious. "What's wrong?"

All he said was, "Thank you." When you shrugged and scooted closer to him with a puzzled look on your face, he added, "Thank you for never shutting me out."

You didn't ask him to elaborate. You knew he'd been underappreciated in the past, and you'd grown enough to realize that you had been as well. Part of the appeal of being with an older man was knowing you were valued, and that was never going to change. But he surprised you again when you checked in for your appointment with his arm wrapped around your lower back, because he leaned in and whispered, "I wasn't there for Noah's anatomy scan. This is... I guess... I didn't realize how much shit I missed out on with him until this time around."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

As a nurse led you up to the exam room, he said, "I'm telling you now, Princess. Every day with you is exciting, because you let me show you how much I love you. How much I love all three of you."

There were still some tears in your eyes as Bradley stood next to you, holding your hand while the technician performed the scan. You were mesmerized by the images of tiny hands and feet on the monitor that was mounted to the wall. The soft shape of your baby moving around slightly was almost too much for your heart to handle, but then you were asked the question, "Do you want to know the sex?"

You looked up at Bradley, and you kept your eyes focused on him. "Go ahead, Daddy," you coaxed as he brushed his thumb along your knuckles. 

"Yeah," he rasped, voice deep with excitement. "We want to know."

His brown eyes lit up as you heard the words, "It's a girl." Then your husband's lips came crashing to yours while you were still processing everything. A little girl? First you got to be around to raise Noah, and you got to have a little girl, too?

"Bradley," you gasped when he released your lips. "A girl."

He was nodding, impossibly handsome in his uniform as his smile grew wider. "A purple nursery is it. She's gonna love the color just like her Mommy." You pulled him in for another kiss and another one, and you weren't sure why you thought you couldn't do this. You could handle anything with this man.

"I can't wait to tell Noah," you told him as tears blurred your vision.

Bradley kissed your forehead. "Can we tell him tonight? After I get home from work?"

"That would make me so happy."

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

You were bubbling with excitement when Bradley got home that evening, and it was clearly rubbing off on Noah. The house smelled like dinner and fresh baked cookies, and there was already a strand of colorful lights on the Christmas tree. There was even some music playing. The area rug was littered with colorful bits of construction paper and two pairs of scissors, and in an instant, Bradley had you and his son in his arms while Skittles barked for attention.

"Can we tell him?" you asked softly, pushing Noah's hair back from his forehead. "I want to tell him."

Your eyes were bright, and you looked so young with your bump pressed to Bradley's hip. "You don't want to wait until after dinner?" he teased, already knowing he'd agree to anything you said. A little pout found your lips, and he kissed it away.

"I want us to tell him now," you said, chasing him for another kiss. "Please?"

Bradley scooped Noah up into his arms, and he pointed at the tree. "Mommy let me pick the colorful lights, because we are making colorful decorations." Then Bradley noticed that there were already a few construction paper candy canes and gingerbreads tucked into the tree branches.

"Looks good, Bub," he said, kissing his son's cheek before sinking down to the floor amidst the mess with Noah on his lap. He looked up at you and patted his thigh as he said, "Mommy wants to tell you something special."

You sucked in a breath as your eyes went wider, and Bradley helped you down onto the floor at his side. "You want me to tell him?" you asked, one hand coming to rest on his thigh as you brushed your fingers along Noah's cheek. Bradley looked at his son who was always well loved and happy now; he had a dad who was trying his best and a mom who more than made up the deficit. 

"Yeah. You tell him, Princess."

"What?" Noah asked, his brown eyes reflecting the multicolored lights. "What, Mommy?"

You bit your lip and made an adorable noise before you said, "Sweet Noah, remember how we said this week was an exciting one because I'm going to adopt you? Well it's even more exciting, because we found out a few hours ago that the baby is a girl. You'll have a little sister soon!"

He stared at you for a beat before looking at Bradley, and then he asked, "Can we make her a crown, too?"

"Oh," you whispered, tears filling your eyes as you reached for him. "That's a great idea." Bradley carefully handed Noah to you and then watched you snuggle him in your arms. "What color do you think she would like?"

As Bradley stood up, Noah flipped through the stack of paper and said, "Probably red, so she knows we love her."

"That's perfect," you told him, but then you looked up at Bradley. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be right back. You two get started on her crown."

Bradley went right to his bedroom and plucked your worn out purple paper crown from the bedpost. It took him a minute of hunting, because they always seemed to end up all over the house, but eventually he found the other two crowns in Noah's room. When he returned to the living room, everything just made sense. There was a smaller red crown in Noah's hands, and you were carefully taping it together.

"Perfect," you crooned, kissing the top of his head as he held it up to show Bradley.

"I have an idea, Bub," he said, setting the green crown on his own head and the purple one on yours. After placing the yellow one on Noah's head, he scooped him up and reached for your hand. "Let's decorate the tree with it since your sister can't wear it yet."

With your cheek resting on his chest and your hand rubbing his abs, Bradley held Noah up high enough that he was able to set the crown on the top of the tree where a star would traditionally belong. But he liked this so much better. He'd take crowns and babysitters over stars any day.

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

You and Noah were so excited for Christmas, it was ridiculous. Even though it was nearly seventy degrees in San Diego, you made mugs of hot chocolate and blasted Christmas carols through the house on Christmas Eve. The tree was absolutely covered in ornaments, some store bought but most homemade. You kept playing YouTube videos of snow, which Noah had never seen in real life, and you convinced Bradley to take you both back to Big Bear Lake in January.

Nat and Javy stopped by with a pile of presents for Noah along with some baby girl clothing that had you melting as soon as you unwrapped it. Tomorrow morning, the three of you would be heading over to spend the day with Mav, Penny and Amelia, but tonight was just for the three of you. 

Bradley had already assembled Noah's bike and used an entire roll of wrapping paper to cover it, and while you took Noah to the kitchen to decorate the cookies you made, he carried it out to put it under the tree along with the collection of coloring books, colored pencils and crayons you bought for him. There were a few other gifts for him as well, but you and Bradley agreed not to exchange gifts with each other. He already spent every day of the year spoiling you, and you didn't need or want anything anyway. You already had it all.

"I need a hot chocolate refill," Bradley said, popping into the kitchen with his Noah's Dad mug in one hand and a smug smile on his face. "And then we can open presents."

"More presents?!" Noah asked, nearly dropping a cookie onto the floor as he scrambled down from his chair. 

"More presents," Bradley confirmed. "You ready?"

Noah left the two of you in the dust which gave you a few seconds to wrap your arms around your husband's neck and press your ever growing belly against him. "Thanks for letting me spoil Noah with your credit card," you whispered, letting your fingers trail down his chest until they were slipping into the waistband of his sweatpants. "Maybe later you'll let me spoil you?"

His smirk grew. "Oh, that's what I'm counting on, Baby."

"Mommy!" Noah shouted, and you pulled Bradley along with you by the drawstrings on his pants. "Look!"

When you walked into the living room, he was holding up a wrapped gift in each hand. Once you were settled on the couch with Skittles on your lap, Bradley joined Noah on the floor with his mug. "Go ahead and open them up, Bub."

You watched him tear into the paper while Bradley rooted around under the tree. Noah was holding up each coloring book and commenting on the themes as Bradley picked up a small, purple box and set it down next to your thigh. 

"What's this?"

He licked his lips and gave you a very innocent expression as he said, "Why don't you go ahead and open it and find out?"

It took you a few seconds to untie the little ribbon, and then you lifted the lid from the box and gasped as Noah moved on to unwrap his bike. "Daddy," you whispered, running your fingers along the shiny treat he bought for you, knowing full well that he'd enjoy it, too.

"You like it?" His voice was raspy and needy as you tipped the box a little bit to the side, and then you had to stifle a moan.

"I do," you told him, letting the heavy, stainless steel butt plug roll onto your palm. Mrs. Bradshaw was inscribed on the base.

Your heart was skipping around in your chest as you met his big, brown eyes. "You gonna spoil me, Princess?"

"As soon as Noah goes to bed."

After that, it didn't take long before Bradley was hauling him off to bed with the promise that he could try out his new bike first thing in the morning before leaving for Penny's house.

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

Your best gift came after Christmas. It was two days into the new year when you were on your way home from work and got a phone call from the county clerk's office. In your excitement, you had to pull over so you didn't wreck when you heard the words, "You can come in to see the judge and have your adoption of Noah Bradshaw finalized."

"Bradley!" you screamed when you finally got home. He and Noah were already working on undecorating the tree, and now he had a panicked look on his face.

"What happened?" he asked, meeting you at the door and reaching for your belly.

"We're fine," you insisted loudly, scrambling into his arms as you shook from excitement. "I just got a phone call, and Noah's mine! He's really going to be mine!"

"Yeah?" Bradley asked as a smile bloomed across his face. "We're going to see the judge?"

"On Thursday!" you shrieked.

"This week?"

"This week!"

When Noah tried to reach for you as tears slid down your cheeks, Bradley picked him up. "Why are you crying, Mommy?" he asked, worry creasing his brow.

You kissed him and whispered, "Because I love you so much."

And that's exactly how you stood on Thursday afternoon, with Bradley next to you and Noah in his arms while you signed so many papers in front of the judge. Each swipe of the pen brought you a little bit closer to where you wanted to be, and when you reached the final sheet, your fingers shook. There was a little blot of ink next to your name, and you smiled down at it before pushing the papers across the table and looking expectantly at the judge.

He signed his own name a few times, handed everything over to someone else and then declared you Noah's legal guardian and parent. You let yourself sob against Bradley while you held Noah's small hand in yours. This is where you belonged. This is where you felt safe. This was your family. 

"It's official," you whispered to Noah, your voice raw from emotion. "I'm your Mommy."

Bradley kissed the top of your head half a dozen times and said, "You've been Noah's Mommy for months, Baby. Collect that piece of paper so we can go home."

You would have framed it, because it meant that much to you. And there was a chance you still would. But not yet. You needed to have it with you when you took Noah to preschool on your way to work a few weeks later. You left with plenty of time to spare so you'd be able to savor every moment. The baby was squirming around like crazy as you walked into the lobby with Noah's hand tucked into yours, and that's when you saw Casey.

"Good morning," you said brightly, and she tried her best to ignore you as she set the clipboard down for you to sign. You scribbled your brand new name on the line, kissed Noah's cheek, and then you watched her lead him inside to his classroom where he started to hang up his bag.

When Casey returned to find you were still there with your left hand resting on your belly, her eyes fell to your rings. They were stunning, and you knew it. She was jealous that you married Bradley, and you knew it. 

"What do you need?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

You smiled. "I need to fill out a second set of paperwork for Noah."

Casey rolled her eyes. "No. You don't. His dad's paperwork will still suffice. You're already listed as someone who is allowed to drop his son off and pick him up."

"Oh, but he's my son, too," you replied immediately, and you were met with stony silence. "I have the adoption paperwork here to prove it. And also, you'll need to update my last name in your records. It's Bradshaw now. I have the paperwork to prove that, too."

Without a single word, Casey pulled a new set of registration paperwork for you to fill out, and you took your time, standing there on the other side of the counter, neatly writing every last word. You hummed while you filled in your marital status and said, "It's funny how it turned out, huh? I started out as just the babysitter. What a wild world. But now you can call me Mrs. Bradshaw when you see me."

Her cheeks were bright red as you signed your name on the last sheet, gave her a bland look and added, "I'll be back to pick up my son later today." And then you walked outside into the cool January sunlight, and you really did feel like a Princess even without your crown on.

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

Bradley pulled his Bronco into his driveway, smiling at the sight of his son's bike parked crooked on the porch and the chalk art covering the walkway. His mind felt so much calmer than it had just a year ago, because he wasn't constantly rushing around, and he knew what he was going to find when he opened the door.

Armed with pizza, a salad, and a decaf coffee with Mrs. Bradshaw written on the side, he walked in and was greeted by Skittles running to him. Then he saw you and Noah sitting on the floor together, your back leaning against the couch. You had Noah cradled against your belly, his hands and ear pressed against your shirt.

"Daddy!" he called out. "She's kicking!"

"Yeah?" Bradley asked with a smile, setting everything on the TV stand before dropping down to the carpet. 

You reached for his hand as he crawled over, and he let you place it high on your belly. "Feel her?" you whispered, almost like you were afraid to break the magic that you'd somehow cast on all of them. There she was, moving around just like the previous night and last week. Bradley would never tire of this feeling.

He curled up with Noah, unwilling to move until his daughter wore herself out. Your fingers combed gently through his hair, and even Noah didn't seem in much of a rush to get to his dinner while his tiny sister was making him giggle. Every day was practically perfect now because of you, and it was just going to keep getting better. He looked up at your beautiful face and said, "You're the best thing that ever happened to us, Princess."

"I know, Daddy."

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

Omg, this family makes me so happy! Noah is thriving, and he's going to have a baby sister. Bradley is such a Daddy, and Princess is entering Mommy era for real. Up next is the EPILOGUE. I can't thank you enough, especially if you have been here reading since last MARCH! Big thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 63

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[withahappyrefrain]

Hi!!! For the drabble event, I'm very curious to see "“When I tell you to sit on my face, I want you to sit, is that clear?”" (no i will not go to horny jail) with Bradley !! (Yeah I missed that slutty man)

I love how much y'all loved this line!!!

"Bradley," your moans were sweeter than any song he had heard. His mouth continued to explore your body, committing to tasting every inch of you.

Deployments were rough. Ten weeks without physical contact and only sparse, spotty FaceTime calls was hell on Earth. This time, he could barely wait until y'all got inside the house.

To Bradley, barely making it to the couch made it feel rushed and red hot. He was too old for the floor and wanted to be able to fuck you again in the next few hours.

His knees pressed down on the carpet, creating a constellation of love bites and hickies along your thighs.

"Need to taste ya pretty girl. Can I do that? Taste that sweet pussy of yours? Missed her so much," his words caused heat to bloom all over your body.

"P-please Roo." Bradley hummed in approval at your nickname for him. Only you were allowed to call him that, his pretty little wife.

"I got ya baby. C'mon, ride my face," he effortlessly changed positions, you now on top while his back now pressed against the sofa cushions.

"I-what?" Everything about him was overwhelming; the way he gripped your hips to push you towards his face, how the hairs of his mustache tickled against where your core and thigh met.

"C'mon baby, you know better. When I tell you to sit on my face, I want you to sit. Is that clear?" He slipped into the command giving captain role he played over the last seventy days, dominance lacing his words.

It made you weak. It made you follow his directions quickly, sinking down so his mouth could make contact with your hot, soaked core.

A loud moan fell from your lips as his mustache brushed against your clit, his tongue eagerly lapping up your arousal. Your hips began rocking back and forth, his hands guiding you through their grip on your hips.

It was good to have Bradley Bradshaw home. Real fucking good..

[k9effect]

Post-Hangster-Breakup Jake Seresin feels

The night breeze carries the cigarette smoke away from his lips like drifting clouds. Jake can't remember the last time he smoked.

The bench beneath him is cold and rigid, and he reefs his jacket tighter around him in protest. He pulls the acrid cigarette smoke into his lungs, feeling it burn, reminding him that he can feel something other than the misery he's found himself drowning in.

There's a split on his lower lip and he wishes he could say it was from a bar fight, but it was simply a by-product of the cold weather settling in. He hadn't been taking enough care of himself to prevent it. He had just let it happen.

It had been two weeks since Bradley left and Jake was still trying to convince himself that he was better off without him. Another tear left an icy track down his cheek and he shook his head slightly, tapping the ash from his cigarette onto the dirt below.

The dark ocean ahead was calling to him. He half wanted to just walk out into it, to let the frigid waves embrace his cold, dead heart. A shiver ran through his body at the thought.

He knew everyone thought it was him who ended things. Bradley had always been the golden boy, radiating sunshine and warmth, there was no way he could ever hurt someone this bad. Jake leant forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and hunching over. His tear streaked face was illuminated briefly by the glow of the cigarette end before dimming once more. The truth was that he was the one who got hurt and nobody believed it.

One thing people don't know about Bradshaw, is that he picks his words purposefully, intentionally, maliciously. He knows what to say to get his way, but more importantly, he knows what to say to harm.

Jake couldn't get the words out of his head.

It had all been premeditated, he knew that much. His transfer had already been approved, his bags already packed the night before. Jake had felt him pulling away, felt the tension in the air the days leading up to it. He wasn't surprised, but it had hurt just as badly all the same.

Jake groans and squeezes his eyes shut, pressing the heel of his palm into the bridge of his nose and sniffing back tears harshly. He breathes out through his clenched teeth.

He didn't need Bradshaw, he was certain of it, but god did he want to go back to when they were happy.

Jake shivered in the cold, wishing there was a warm body next to him. Instead, he raised the cigarette to his lips again. Letting the smoke burning his lungs replace the longing.

[im-hotline-bling-blog]

he asks bradley “are you stiff?” every 5 minutes but makes no effort to move because *he is comfortable!*

not that bradley mind that though.

idc like jake is soo clingy that boy will curl up into roosters lap bury his face in his neck and remain there for the whole night if he will let him

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

Hangman almost got in huge f*cking trouble for flying out to save Maverick and Rooster before he was ordered to, but Maverick made a call to Admiral Ron "Slider" Kerner, and all he had to say was "...He's Bradley's Iceman."

...And Slider put an immediate stamp of approval on it and forbid anyone from punishing Lieutenant Seresin for his actions.

[lucky-ducky006]

Bradley headcanons 😈😈

Youngest child

Steals Tanks clothes

Loves invading other peoples personal space but will actually lose it if someone breathes too close to him

Low pain tolerance

Gets startled/scared very easily and it makes him mad

Cries when he makes an 89 on a test

Naturally smart and doesn’t really have to study

His dad doesn’t approve of his hobbies but doesn’t care as long as he isn’t an embarrassment

He’s terrified of his dad

Goes to bed at 8:30 pm most nights

Skin care guru

Can’t cook to save his life

Sleeps with a plushie but hides it

Tank found out and occasionally teases Bradley so he can laugh at his frantic panic over it.

Feel free to add to this 😈

[sometimesanalice]

Wildest Dreams (Part 2)

Summary: After meeting Bradley during Fleet Week, he shows you whether he is more of an officer or a gentleman in the bedroom. And while you haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night, you also hope he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, and Bradley in Summer Whites (minors dni)

(Author’s note: this was written as part of @laracrofted’s 1989(TV) Challenge! This a 2 Part series.)

You don’t remember finding your keys in your clutch.

Or the elevator ride up to your floor.

Or the winding hallway to reach your apartment.

What you do remember is the way his fingers toyed with the flimsy strings of the bows tied at the nape of your neck as you searched for your keys. You remember the heat in his eyes and the way they trailed over every inch of you as the too small lift climbed to your floor. You remember his lips on your neck and the way the embossed wallpaper that lined your hallway felt against your back.

And you already know you’ll never forget what it feels like to be pressed up against your door by Bradley Bradshaw and the way your world explodes into technicolor at the easy slide of his tongue against yours.

His hands can’t seem to stay in one place very long, like he wants to commit the shape of you to memory. You grip his shirt tightly as you try to pull his body even closer to yours. He moans his approval when you rock against his thigh, the thick fabric dragging against the soft skin between your legs.

His uniform has been driving you wild all night. And for as good as he looks in it you want it off. You want him naked. You want to know if he got his callsign for the reason you think he did.

Your hands trail down his chest, down his abs on a mission. You can feel the way he tenses under your palms as they move lower, lower. There’s no hesitation in the way you grasp and stroke him with one hand as you work to unbuckle his polished belt with the other.

Rooster groans into your mouth, the brim of his hat just grazing your temple, “You didn’t have me fooled for a second, I knew you weren’t a good girl.”

The way he says it makes it sound like it’s the best compliment in the world.

You feel his smile against your lips before he moves to take advantage of your amused laugh by dipping down and licking a line up your neck in a what that had your knees threatening to give out in your tall, sparkly heels.

Rooster’s hand slips under the short hem of your shiny dress. His mouth finds a spot underneath your ear that has you gasping as his thumbs slide under the waistband of your panties. He pulls away only to work them down your legs and watch as they puddle at your feet-

“What the fuck are those?” 

“U-underwear?” The word comes out a stutter the moment Bradley starts moving his big hand slowly, purposely up, up, up the inside of your thigh. 

The high-cut thong was something you’d purchased on a whim. The floral embroidery on the barely-there sheer mesh contrasted with the thin silky straps of the bright pink panties that had caught your eye right before you’d gone to check out with the set you’d bought as a gift for your friend’s Bachelorette party. 

You always did enjoy a theme. 

You’d barely felt them all night. That is, until you’d gotten in the cab with him, and then you were almost hyperaware of them and how wet they were getting. But pooled on the floor of your entryway, they look almost indecent.

“That’s some damn dental floss and you know it,” he rasps as his fingers find your clit. You suck in a sharp breath at the contact. His hot mouth returns back to that spot under your ear, “Now I’m mad at myself for not getting to see them on you.”

Your body erupts in goosebumps at the way the coarse hairs of his mustache feel against your skin. You’re so wet that his fingers have no problem sliding and circling and gliding over that sensitive part of you.

“You want me to put them back on for you?” you offer breathily, hips tilting forward trying to seek more of his touch.

“Don’t even think about it,” he states heatedly. Like he is personally victimized by even the idea of you putting a layer back on.

And then he sinks two thick fingers into you.

“Bradley,” you gasp, your hands flying up to clutch his biceps.

“Mhmm?”

“I-” Your words are lost to a keen when he flicks a thumbnail over your clit. It’s a little mean, but it has your toes curling and tensing in the most delicious way.  

His firm thigh keeps you pinned open as he works you. His lips and tongue mapping out the areas that make you squirm and pant. Your whole body seizes when he teases you with the possibility of another one of his fingers.

“You what, pretty girl?” You can feel his smirk against your neck.

Oh, fuck him. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you. You’d be more annoyed at him if he wasn’t so good at it.

“I-I,” you try again, “I had-oh god, that feels good. Your hands.”

“Hands of a pilot,” he says, satisfied and smug, “I’ll be sure to pass along your compliments to the Department of Defense.”

Rooster’s eyes are molten with pride as he takes you in, from your kiss swollen lips to where the tendons of his forearm are shifting and flexing beneath sunkissed skin half hidden under the hem of your skirt. 

He is frustratingly still so put together while you’re quaking against the door like a leaf in the breeze. You want to make him just as needy for your touch as you are for his, you can feel how hard he is pressed against you.

Your hand goes for his zipper, you’re only able to tug it down half way before Bradley catches you by the wrist and pins it above your head with a tsk.

“I had plans, Rooster,” you pant, finally are able to get out the words.  You’ve never had a man make you feel this good this quickly, he’s picked up on every cue your body has given him. He’s got you teetering along that edge, but he’s still toying with you rather than sending you over it.

“And what were those again?” he hums teasingly, his thumb making infuriatingly featherlight circles against you, “Remind me what was on your agenda.”

Bradley doesn’t give you the chance to reply because he’s hooking his fingertips against you and dragging them against that spot inside of you that causes your head to fall back against your door with a gasp. He shows you just how well practiced in giving pleasure he is as he does it again and again and again.

You try to arch into his touch but his strong body pressed against you so securely that you can’t do anything more than take what he gives you. The short hem of your skirt is riding dangerously high, gathered and bunched between the two of you.

“You’re not playing fair,” you whine as he runs his teeth along the tendon of your neck, “I was going to suck your cock.”

“It’s all yours, baby. You just need to come for me first. I’ll even let you wear my cap as a reward.”

“Such a gentleman.”

“Damn straight,” he says before licking deep into your waiting mouth, “Now show me you can be a good girl and come on my fingers.”

You don’t get a chance to reply because Bradley’s thumb changes up the patterns it’s making on your clit making you cry out. There’s nothing teasing about his touch, he’s playing your body to pull exactly what he wants from it. His movements are controlled and precise even as you writhe against his hand.

When you come it’s with his name in your mouth as your orgasm coasts over you in a whiskey wave. The heat and force of it radiating through your whole body from your fingertips to your toes. Bradley murmurs sweet words into your ear as shivers work their way down through your spine.

You’re still breathing hard when you flutter open your eyes just in time to see him pulling his shiny spit-slicked fingers from his mouth with a devastating smirk.

So pleased with himself, so damn handsome.

Not to be out done you kick away that hot pink thong and pull his face to yours seeking the taste of yourself from his mouth. He welcomes your tongue with a satisfied moan, his hungry hands running up your back to tug at one of the sets of ties on your dress.

“Nuh-uh,” you tut against his mouth as you push him up against your door, “It’s your turn, Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw.”

You’ve only managed to undo two of the little white buttons on his uniform, and while you’re dying to see more of his skin, the hard length of him against your stomach has your full attention.

Your knees only just skim the floor before he’s hauling you back up.

“Wait, wait. C’mere, baby,” Bradley says, his hands on your elbows, “Show me your bedroom and then I’ll let you have my cock.”

“‘Come on my fingers’, ‘show me your bedroom’,” you parrot back to him, stroking him through his pants, “You’re going to give me a complex if you don’t let me give you a blow job. I have a theory about your callsign and I need answers, Rooster.”

“You can, I promise,” he huffs a laugh, running his thumb under your bottom lip, “We’re skipping over a few things, let me be a little romantic with you before we smudge that lipstick up.”

You try to ignore the way your heart somersaults at his words and the affection in his eyes.

“It’s longwear,” you reply, with a cheeky half shrug,  “But you’re certainly welcome to try.”

“We’ll see about that,” he smirks, dipping down a bit to get an arm underneath you and picking you up like it’s nothing. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you from your entryway and past your kitchen towards the open door on the right where your bedroom is, the lamp on your nightstand that you’d left on before leaving for the evening guiding the way.

“How is your hat still on?” you mutter before laving at the scars on his neck that had caught your eye earlier at the bar.

“How is your tiara still on?” he tosses back, leaning his head to the side to give you more access to the skin at the base of his throat.

“It’s a headband.”

“It’s cute.”

You pull away with a grin, “I knew you wanted to try it on. Big, strong, Naval aviator has an affinity for pretty shiny things.”

“Guilty as charged,” Rooster agrees. His hands run down the sides of your waist as he sets you down, his fingers stroking the material of your sparkling pink dress. “Where do you want me, baby?”

You don’t answer him, instead you press him back lightly until he takes the hint and sits on the side of your bed, legs wide so that you can step into the space between his thighs. He makes an enticing contrast of tan skin and white uniform against the pale blue of your comforter.

Holding Bradley’s heated gaze, you take the pristine white hat off of his head and set it on the nightstand next to you. The sight of his sunkissed curls is a treat you weren’t expecting to see and you can’t help but run your hands through his hair.

You take a minute to indulge in the feeling of his soft strands between your fingers as he leans into your touch. There’s a ribbon of desire that is still wrapped around the two of you, one that pulls tighter with every pass of your hands.

“Take your cock out,” you murmur.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a wink, his voice like rich espresso.

He’d gotten his way, now it was your turn.

You lean forward to kiss him, wet and deep, before finallyfinallyfinally sinking to your knees in front of him.

Rooster is all efficient hands and fingers as he unzips those dizzyingly snug pants the rest of the way down. You swear that smirk of his gets a little wider as he pulls his cock out for you. 

You’re almost annoyed at how perfect it looks, at how big it is. But that feeling fades quicker than it came on at the pretty way his large hand fists and pumps himself. It makes your breath get caught in your throat as you watch.

And then he’s holding it out for you like an offering, “This what you wanted, sweetheart?”

You don’t shy away from his intense gaze as you flatten your tongue underneath him and obscenely lick up the length of him.

“Goddamn,” he says hoarsely, as he throws his head back.

You beam, pleased and preening, before you pull him fully into your mouth. That smirk is entirely wiped off his face and you can see the way his jaw is clenching and releasing as his face is angled up towards the ceiling. Your hand replaces his on his cock to stroke him in time with the bob of your head. He groans low and ragged at the twist of your wrist at the base of him as you swirl your tongue right underneath the firm ridge of his head.

You feel your Bridesmaid headband slide back on your head with all your enthusiastic movements, and it falls to the floor with a metallic clatter. You wait until he’s looking back at you before you hollow your cheeks as you draw his cock further into your mouth.

“Knew that smart mouth of yours was going to look so good around my cock. God, you’re so fucking pretty,” he says, running his thumb along your jaw, “That little pink dress of yours did a number on me, I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

Bradley’s pretty praise and compliments goes straight to your head, like a rush of bubbles from a freshly popped bottle of champagne. You like the way he is gazing at you- his eyelids heavy but his eyes greedy- and the way he looks sitting on your bed, his presence filling the space of your room.

“If you like it so much I can tell you where I got it from,” you tease, “Don’t think they’d have your size though.” You treat him with another long lick, taking a moment to catch your breath to work him in your hand. It slides easily over him with the mix of your spit and his pre-cum.

“We both know how much I like pretty shiny things. I like seeing them on pretty girls, but I think I like seeing them on the floor even more.”

Rooster reaches out to slide his hand up the valley of your breasts and up around your neck to the back of your dress where the duo of bows of the halter top are still tied and starts tug on the ends of them.

You run your fingernail gently along the underside of his cock, smirking to yourself when it jerks in your hand. You take the tip of him between your lips, flicking him with your tongue as you let him work on the bows.

“Jesus, what kind of knots did you tie on this thing,” he grunts, still pulling on the thin pink strings.  

“I thought you Navy men were supposed to be excellent with knots,” you say with a laugh, moving your hair aside so that he can see better.

“I fly planes that land on ships, the only knots I’m tying are the ones on my boots.”

“Well now, that’s a shame,” you say with a sigh, blinking up at him with your best doe eyes. You give him a couple more slow pumps and watch with pleasure as his eyes flare with heat as he catches on to your meaning.

The way he moans your name sounds like both a curse and a prayer.

You pull away from him and sit back on your knees reaching up behind your neck. He watches you with rapt attention as you untie one and then the other. You hold it up with one hand at your collarbone and run the fingers of your other hand over the swells of your breasts before sliding it behind your back to release the final bow dancing along your mid-back.

And then you let go of the top.

It flutters down to your waist and you’re bared before him.

“Fuck me, knew you couldn’t be wearing a bra with that sexy little dress,” he groans as you pull him back into your mouth.

His fingers fly to your hair as you work to take him further and further into your mouth. It’s impossible to look away or close your eyes when his heady gaze is trained on you so intensely. He goes slack-jawed as you swallow around him, humming your approval to his reaction around his cock.

It’s easy to lose yourself to the rhythm of it. Of the staccato of his breath and sounds of satisfaction coming from in his broad chest. Of the weight of his cock pressed against your tongue.

Bradley’s thigh is taut and tense under your other hand with the strain of holding himself back. You are almost tempted to tell him to use your mouth how he wants, but there is something so exciting about having this man wrapped around your finger and at your mercy. He’s looking at you with such open want in his eyes that it makes that place low in your stomach spark with desire.

You pull off of him to drop a few open mouth kisses to the length of him. You look up at him from under your eyelashes, making sure you have his full attention when you use your tongue to trace along the thick vein on his shaft.

“How’s my lipstick holding up, Rooster?”

He barks a laugh, his smile wide and broad with amusement, “Hasn’t budged. Guess I’ll have to work harder to make a mess out of you then, huh?”

“I guess you will.” You shift forward like you mean to brush a kiss to his lips, but pull away with a mischievous smile right before his lips could meet yours. He groans and leans forward chasing after your mouth.

“C’mere, pretty girl,” Bradley says, hauling you up off of the cream-colored carpet of your floor. He hastily shoves your dress down the rest of the way down your hips and onto the floor before pulling you into his lap.

“But-” The words die in your throat as you whimper at the contact of your soaked cunt as it rubs up against his thick cock. Rooster runs his nose along the line of your neck as your hands tangle in his curls. He squeezes your ass with his hands encouraging you to continue your rock and grind against him.

When you tug him back up to your mouth, he goes willingly with a self-satisfied smile. You keen when your nipples catch against his nametag and the ribbons decorating his chest and you’re reminded that he’s not nearly naked enough for your liking.

“Why are you still dressed?” you huff, your insatiable hands roughly pulling at the buttons of his shirt, “If you were as interested in furthering those civilian-military relations as you claimed to be earlier, Sailor, you’d take that uniform off.”

“My apologies, ma’am,” he drawls, not sounding the least bit sorry, “Please allow me to show you just how committed I am to cultivating strong bonds with the local community at hand.”

And in a move so smooth and powerful, Bradley’s got you pinned to the bed. It doesn’t even register to you until he’s crowding into you, his head dipping down to drag his teeth over your peaked nipple. His large hand comes up to cup and massage your other one as he laves over you in broad and long strokes of his tongue.

He rolls against you teasingly and the way your thighs come up to bracket his hips is almost instinctive as you sink further into the cloud of your bed under his sturdy weight.

That mustache feels even better against your chest as it did against your neck when he had you pressed against your front door. But the drag of those damn buttons is impossible to ignore even as his hot mouth works its way down your sternum and stomach.

“Bradley.”

“Yeah, baby?” He nips at your hipbone as he strong-arms your thighs open further for his wide shoulders to settle under.

You’re so tired of feeling that sure-to-be-well-made fabric under your hands and against your body. You want to feel his skin against yours. You want his heat. You want to smell like the cedar and spearmint scent of his cologne.

He’s been derailing your plans since the moment you saw him enter the bar, but in this you will not be swayed, “If you’re not naked in the next ninety seconds, I swear I’m going to kick you out.”

“I can work with ninety,” he says with a toe curling glint in his eyes right before he licks into you.

The coarse hairs of his mustache against that most intimate part of you has you seeing not only stars, but entire galaxies. He slides his hand under your back to get you to arch further towards him. His tongue is relentless against your needy clit and when he sucks it has your hips canting right into his charming mouth.

“Can’t keep those hips on the bed, can you? Keep tryin’ to chase my mouth,” he smirks at your frustrated whine when he pulls away from you all too soon. He’s all lithe grace as he moves and stands up at the end of your bed.

You can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. There’s no reason to be when he shoots you a wink so easy and playful and so endearingly cocky that you think you might just melt on the spot.

“Tick-tock, Lieutenant,” you say breathily as you sit up and lean back on your elbows.

“Now you’re just being difficult on purpose. That ok, baby, I think you’ll enjoy it when I fuck that attitude right out of you.”

“Promises, promises.”

You already know that lazy smile he’s wearing is going to take you down as he starts to undo the buttons of his uniform. He’s definitely past the ninety seconds you’d threatened him with, but there’s no way in hell you’re going to kick him out now.

Rooster does it slowly. One by one until he is shrugging it off his frame. He looks like sin standing there tall and broad with his belt dangling open and his cock hanging out proudly from the open fly of his formfitting pants.

“Oh, this is getting good now,” you muse, not unaffected by the increasingly unclothed man in front of you.

Feeling brave you bring your fingers down to your clit, teasing yourself lightly as he pulls his thin undershirt up and over his head. And finally, you get to see all of that bronzed skin on display. The sight of the smattering of chest hair between his full pecs and the ridges of his abs in the soft light of your nightstand lamp has your mouth watering at the sight in front of you.

“That’s it,” Bradley says lowly, his eyes glued to the shiny, slick part of you, “Show me how you like to touch yourself.”

You let your legs fall open wider for his gaze as you continue to touch yourself. Your heart hammers against your chest as you put yourself on display for him. As you show off for him. With every passing second your need for him ratchets up even higher. He gives himself a few pumps, his cock still shiny and wet from your mouth and pussy, before he’s shoving his pants down his thick thighs and kicking them off.

He works his way back up your bed and props himself against your tufted headboard and pulls you back into his lap. You sigh as you lean into him, your bare skin against his. At last. He feeds you his tongue as he tips up your head for a fevered kiss, his hands skimming up the length of your spine and into your hair as he commands your mouth with his.

“What’s it going to be, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your lips, “Do you want to be fucked by an officer? Or do you want me to be sweet with you? I’ll show you just how much of a gentleman I can be.”

A shiver works its way through your body and you feel the way his lips pull up at your response to his raspy voice and the sultry promise laced in his words. The night has been building up to this, the feeling of his hands in your hair and having his clothes on the floor in your room shouldn’t feel so right. But it does.

And if you’re only going to have this one night with him, you already know what you want. You knew it from the second he kissed you back at the bar.

You pull back just enough to lean over him to grab his hat off your nightstand. His hands flex on your hips when you set it on your own head. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be and it tilts down your forehead a bit. Rooster tips it up for you and adjusts it, his eyes seeking an answer you have yet to give him.

“I want to be fucked by an officer, Lieutenant Commander,” you say, running your thumb down the divot of his chin.

You’ve never felt more powerful than you do at the sound of his wrecked groan.

“Grab that condom, baby,” Bradley’s voice is thick with need.

“Yes, sir,” you say cheekily, pulling open the drawer next to the bed.

You aren’t expecting the hand that connects with your ass or the sound of the sharp slap that seems to reverberate throughout your bedroom or the way it makes you even wetter than you already are.

The tequila and champagne from earlier wore off long ago, now you’re just drunk on him.

You pass him one of the gold foiled squares and watch as he rolls it on with ease as you hover above him on your knees. He’s got you so spun up in such a short amount of time, you’d know from the moment you saw him that he was trouble, you just didn’t realize at the time that he was going to be your kind of trouble.

He holds his cock in one hand and guides you onto it with his other hand heavy on your hip. You expect him to rock up into you, to give you both that air stealing bliss, instead your jaw drops open at the way he’s coaching you to sink onto him slowly, slowly, so so slowly.

It’s been awhile since you’ve taken something other than your fingers or one of the toys discreetly hidden in your bedside drawer and he has you whimpering as you stretch and spread around him. You can feel his want in every devastating touch, in every heated kiss. You cling to his shoulders to keep you from floating away.

“There we go. Nice and easy,” Rooster murmurs, watching the way his cock disappears into you, “Felt how tight you were around my fingers. I know ‘m big. You’re doing so good for me.”

He’s got a hand wrapped around the base of your neck and around your waist holding you there when your hips finally connect, keeping you from squirming as your body works to relax around him. Your pussy flutters around him at the sheer size of him.

You gasp in surprise as a shiver of an orgasm flurries through you unexpectedly. 

“Goddamn,” he grunts, you can hear the relief in his voice as he continues to rock up into you gently pulling out more of those ripples from you.

He’s still holding you in place, controlling just how much of him you’re getting, his fingers are pressed tightly into your hipbones. His hair is a mess and his eyes are hungry. Bradley is flushed the prettiest shade of pink along his cheekbones and across his chest.

You’re about to tell him so when your eyes snag on a patch of scarred skin on his shoulder and you suddenly must know what it feels like under your tongue.

The second your seeking tongue glides over it Rooster’s hips jerk into you in a way that steals all the air from your lungs. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck as he does it again and again in smooth, measured strokes.

But it’s not enough. That whisper of an orgasm was nothing like you know it could be. It did nothing to take the edge off, all it did was make you more desperate for him. 

He feels so solid beneath you that you need more of him. You start to roll your hips against him trying to get him to move faster, to fuck you in the way he promised he would.

“Oh, you wanna take the lead, huh? By all means,” Bradley says, putting his hands behind his head in a way that makes his biceps look massive, “C’mon, pretty girl, show me what you got.”

Not one to turn down a challenge, you reach behind you to brace your hands on his thick thighs and lean back. You’d show him alright.

Show him just how good you look wearing his hat. Show him just how good he looks buried in your cunt. Show him just how good he looks covered in your arousal. Show him just how good you look working his cock as you roll your hip and raise yourself up and down on him.

“Jesus, fuck. Look at you. Good girls don’t ride cock like that. Shit, you look so damn pretty. You feel so good like this, you’re taking me so well.”

His eyes are torn between watching your face and the way your breasts bounce and the way his hat on your head bobs in time with the rhythm you’ve set. The new angle has the pressure building up swiftly in your lower stomach. And it’s so good, but it’s not what you want. It’s not what you need.

“Stop being such a gentleman, Rooster. I thought you were going to fuck me,” you say, leaning forward and nipping at his bottom lip.

“Pretty sure I told you I was both,” he says tracing a finger down your soft stomach to your pussy, you shiver as he starts making tight circles on your clit, “But if you wanna be fucked, then you’re going to be fucked.”

Bradley shows you just how honed his body is in the way he pulls you off of him and onto your hands and knees in front of him. Your arms never had a chance at keeping you up when he roughly pushes into you. He grips your hips tightly forcing you to bend and arch up further to meet his powerful thrusts.

His hat topples off your head and onto the edge of the bed, where his next drive of him into you sends it dropping onto the floor.

“Tell me how much you like getting fucked by an officer, sweetheart, I want to hear it.”

“It’s good,” you moan into the crevice of your elbow, trying to muffle some of your whimpers.

“Just good? The way your pretty pussy is clinging to be, I’d say you’re feeling more than ‘good’,” he taunts, slapping your ass for good measure in a way that makes you jerk back against him.

“Just think there’s room for improvement, you’re so chatty for someone who could be fucking me harder.”

“Had to work you open before I could fuck you. This how you want it?” he snaps his hips harder and faster into you. You gasp at the sensation and clutch at the comforter beneath your hands.

“Yes, yes.”

The pace he sets is desperate, hungry, and unrelenting. When he skims a hand up your back, tangling it in your hair and tugs, you swear you’ve never made the sound that he pulls from you before.

Every time you adapt to rock and grind of his hips and start to thrust yourself back to meet him, to take him deeper, he changes up his tempo forcing you to only take what you’re given. His touch is so electric you feel like you could light up a whole city.

Your room is filled with the sounds of skin connecting on skin, of sharp breaths and shattered sighs and pitchy keens. The angle he pounding into you has the ridge of his cock rubbing against that spot that has you trembling and writhing beneath him.

“Oh fuck, fuck. Bradley. Please.” You’re babbling nonsense now and you know it, but you’re so, so close.

He knows it too because when he slides his hand around you to run his thumb over your aching clit you shatter around him with a choked sob into your arm. You don’t fight the waves of pleasure crashing over you, you let them pull you under.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he rasps as you quake under his touch, “Good girl.”

His own hips start to stutter against you and his breathing starts to run ragged as he fucks into you. He is clutching your hips so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if you were wearing his fingerprints tomorrow. His groan as he comes is the best sound you’ve ever heard.

Somehow through the haze you realize that you’re not just smiling, you’re beaming.

Bradley is so perfectly heavy on top of you and so warm. You’re so thoroughly worn out and well fucked it’s all you can do to lay there with your eyes closed as you float in that post-orgasm bliss. You make a noise of disapproval when he pulls out of you.

“Gotta get rid of the condom, baby,” he says with a little laugh. You feel the bed shift as he makes his way to your bathroom, already missing the feeling of his body against you.

You know you should get up. Maybe take your makeup off or get some water, but you’re just so content. So satisfied. You’ve had a few one night stands before, but you’ve never felt so comfortable with someone before.

You hear Bradley’s steps get closer as he comes back into your bedroom, but the feel of a damp washcloth gliding up your thigh to the center of you takes you by surprise, “Oh, that’s warm.”

“Is it too warm?” he asks, pausing. You were lucky if your ex would hand you a tissue, so Bradley’s thoughtfulness makes something in your stomach flutter.

“’s nice. Thank you,” you sigh, arching into his tender touch.

You know you should take over, it’s too intimate of a gesture. You should, you should, you should. But you don’t. You let him clean you up while you will your heart to stop fluttering behind your ribs.

You’re pliant and boneless as he climbs back into your bed and pulls you against his chest. Your body shouldn’t fit so perfectly against his. It shouldn’t, it shouldn’t, it shouldn’t. But it does.

“You still with me?” Rooster teases lightly, brushing back some of the sweaty strands of your hair that were clinging to your forehead.

“Just resting up for round two.”

You feel his smile as he presses a kiss to your cheek, “Mmhm.”

Time slips away under the gentleness of his warm hands. Your breathing slows down to match the way he smooths his palm up and down along your spine. You don’t realize how close you are to sleep until he’s pulling you back from the wisps of slumber that were rising up to meet you.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asks quietly. You think you hear a string of hope threaded through his words.

It’s late, but not too late that he’d have a hard time finding an Uber or a cab to take him back to wherever home is for him, but you’re not quite ready to let go of him just yet.

“Yeah, you should stay,” you murmur into his chest.

You feel as he pulls up your comforter around the two of you. You nestle in even closer to him, draping your arm over his stomach and tucking your head under his chin. He reaches over you carefully and turns off the little lamp on your nightstand.

“Ok, I’ll stay.”

It doesn’t take long until the sound of Bradley’s steady breathing lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up, the first thing you notice is the way your body aches in the most pleasant of ways. You allow yourself to stretch luxuriously, your high thread count sheets skimming against your still naked body.

The second thing you notice is the sound of the shower running in your bathroom.

You’re glad to have this moment to yourself to grin madly into your pillow.

Because he stayed. He’s still here.

Once that rush of giddy energy works its way through the rest of your body, you get up to find your clutch with your phone in it and bring it back to bed with you. You shoot a text off to your best friend so that she doesn’t worry and get caught up on all the things you missed in the chaos that is the group chat. The amount of missed notifications are in the triple digits, you love to see girls supporting girls.

A few minutes later Rooster comes out of the bathroom with one of your fluffy white towels wrapped low around his hips. There’s still a part of you that still can’t believe last night even happened even as he stands in front of you, giving you a wide grin when he sees that you’re awake. 

His hair is damp and the sight of those curls make you want to run your fingers through them again. Those muscles of his look even better in the morning light that is filtering through your blinds, you’re getting more than an eyeful of him.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Bradley says gesturing to the open bathroom door, “I wanted to sneak in a quick shower just in case. You seem like the type of girl who would know about her Third Amendment rights.”

“You never know, there’s still time,” you say with a coquettish little shrug and a Cheshire cat smile, “Although it seems rude to kick someone who made me come three times last night.”

“Four,” he says, the left side of his mouth ticking up a bit as he leans a hand on your dresser.

“Four?”

“Mmhm, four. I know what I felt.”

“Would you be up for reminding me how that fourth one went?” you ask, teasingly pulling the soft sheet down your body to sit up on your knees at the edge of your bed.

“Sure would, ma’am. Anything to solidify those civilian-military bonds,” Rooster says, strutting towards you.

He’s ducking down to greet you with a kiss when you stop him with a hand on his chest, “Wait, what time do you have to be back?”

You see that easy smile of his falter for just a moment, “18:30. Sorry that’s-”

“I know military time, Bradley,” you say with a smirk, toying with the loose knot of the towel. You do the math in your head, there’s still almost seven hours before he has to go. It’s an easy decision when you offer, “What do you say, Lieutenant, you want to spend the day with me?”

Rooster answers with an enthusiastic kiss and greedy hands that tell you everything you need to know. It doesn’t take long before you’re pushing off his towel, pulling him on top of you and getting  tangled up with him again.

It only took you a few passes of his tongue to realize what he was spelling against your clit before he had you coming on his mouth. 

L-I-E-U-T-E-N-A-N-T-C-O-M-M-A-N-D-E-R

And then after he reminds you of just how that fourth orgasm went, you set him up with some coffee in your kitchen as you go take a shower and get ready feeling entirely too weak in the knees for a man you’d just met.

You opt to skip the make-up and go fresh faced to have those extra minutes with him instead. Although you do end up finding a spot beneath your ear, a remnant from his mouth last night, that you do have to take a minute to conceal.

Swathed up in your silky robe, you sift through your closet looking for something to wear when your eyes catch on a different pink dress. There are other comfier, easier things you could wearbut it’s the tie on the mostly open back that seals the deal for you. You grin to yourself as you tug open the bow before pulling it on.

He lets out a low whistle when you emerge from your bedroom.

“I know it’s not sparkly, but I think it’ll do,” you joke, twisting your hips a bit so the material of your floral print ruffle sundress floats around your calves.

“It’ll more than do,” Bradley says, staring at you with the same open desire as you’d probably given him when he’d emerged from your bathroom wrapped in that towel.

You turn and look at him over your shoulder, “Do you mind tying this for me?”

You could easily tie it yourself, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun as having him do it for you.

“That ok?” he asks, his voice dropping a few notes lower as he fiddles with tying the flimsy straps in the back for you.

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Rooster.”

He drops a kiss to your shoulder when he’s done and then spins you so that you’re facing him.

“What about me? How do the Summer Whites measure up?” he asks, clearly fishing as he gestures to his uniform. It’s still white and pristine and surprisingly devoid of any wrinkles from the night it spent on the floor of your bedroom.

You give him a contemplative once over taking him in, “It’ll more than do. Although, you’re missing a little something.” 

You walk over the island where you’d set his hat earlier so that it wasn’t forgotten on the floor in your bedroom and pick it up. He bends a little for your benefit as you place it on his head. 

“Cute,” you say, adjusting it so it sits just right, “But I think I wore it better.”

“I think you did too,” Bradley says, tugging you in for a thorough kiss before he laces your fingers together, “You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s get this show on the road,” you say with a wink, repeating the same thing that you said back at the bar when you decided to take him home with you.

The first stop is to your favorite little café not too far away from your apartment. Coffee and food were very necessary after the way the two of you had worked each other out the night before.

Bradley had looked so cramped in your little VW Golf on the way over that you decided to ditch it there and walk around the area instead. The two of you popped in and out of the bookshops and plant shops and record stores that dotted the area. You were surprised to learn he had really great taste in music and ended up picking out a few new vinyl records to take home with you.

In line at the checkout, he’d plucked your credit card from your hand, nodding to the sign advertising the store’s military discount and whispered into your ear, “I won’t tell Uncle Sam if you don’t.”

A ten percent discount never felt so thrilling.

You caught more than a few men and women checking him out in his Summer Whites as you walked around. But you couldn’t blame them because he’d caught you checking him out more than once. But it wasn’t your fault that his ass was a revelation in those tight pants. And he clearly knew it.

When you see the marquee for the small theatre on this side of town that is known for playing the classics and art house films advertising a showing for State Fair you offhandedly mention how much you like that movie as you peek in the widow of one of the antique shops, and then next thing you know he checking his watch and pulling you with him to the box office window for tickets.

“If you don’t let me pay for something here soon, you’re going to give me a complex,” he complains when you stop him from pulling out the credit card that he has tucked in the pocket of his uniform.

“Sorry, Rooster, it’s still Fleet Week and rules are rules,” you joke, bumping him out of the way with your hip sliding your card to the attendant before he can argue with you any further.

“Baby, I need you to stop Richard Gere-ing me,” he says, taking the tickets and wrapping an arm around your waist then leading you in the building.

“Alas, they’re playing Pretty Woman today, but I think you have the potential to make a pretty Julia Roberts,” you tease him, “I’d bet red would look very fetching on you with those undertones.”

The pinch on your right butt cheek makes you jump, startled. You whirl to see if anyone caught him, but the lobby is fairly empty. You turn to send him a heatless glare, but his face is the picture of innocence.

You shake your head at him amused, “Ok, fine. Just for that I will allow you to buy me a small soda from the concession stand, Bradley.”

He looks very pleased ten minutes later when he’s carrying a large bucket of popcorn, three types of candy, and two giant cups of fizzing soda as you go to find your seats.

“So much for free Fleet Week drinks,” you tut, taking a sip of your drink.

“But I did get laid today, so I’ll call it a win,” he winks.

The two of you trade whispers as the lights go down and the music of the opening credits starts to play. You grin as you reach over for some popcorn and hear him humming along.

Just as Vivian Blaine starts strutting away from Dana Andrews, her hair bouncing vivaciously with each step, Rooster angles over, “Hey, that’s how your friend looked last night walking away from Hangman. He’s been harassing me all day to get you to give me your number so he can call her.” 

You hold back the snicker that tries to escape your throat when he gets shushed by someone a few rows back, whispering even louder, “Sorry!”

You lean in closer, admiring the way half of his face is illuminated from the screen and confide, “Where do you think she learned it from?”

You and your best friend had taken the same film studies class in college and she tested out the move that night at the bars near campus with an almost perfect success rate. It’s been her go-to move ever since.

“No shit?”

“I’m serious,” you say with a giggle.

The shusher makes their displeasure known again and this time the both of you burst out laughing.

“We should probably go before they start throwing popcorn at us. I don’t think even with military grade detergent that you’d be able to get butter-flavored oil out of those Summer Whites.”

Bradley agrees readily and your heart flip-flops knowing that he’d rather be talking with you than sitting silently for the next two hours. He even tosses one of the boxes of candy to the shusher on the way out as an apology.

The two of you head to the beach instead, sitting on the sand and watching the waves. Tossing some of the popcorn kernels to hungry seagulls who approach. The two of you are both a little overdressed for it, but if anything, that makes it more fun.

You’re surprised at how easy it is to talk to him, to tease him. Surprised that he’s more than just a pretty face with a good body. The way he is so at-home and comfortable in his own skin makes you feel like you don’t have to try to be impressive, you can just be yourself. 

As the sun sinks lower in the sky, you’re both increasingly aware there’s a ticking clock above your heads and that this has to come to an end soon. And far too soon you end up making your way back together to where you’d left your car a few blocks away from the café you’d taken him to for brunch.

“Do you need to drop by your place for your things?” you ask Rooster, toying with your car keys.

“I packed last night. I asked a friend who is shipping out with me to grab them for me,” he says, scrubbing a hand down the side of his face.

“Not Hangman?” You wonder fleetingly if your friend ended up caving and giving him her number or not.

“Not this time. Which I’m not too mad about since he snores.” You know he is trying to make you laugh, but you just press your lips together and nod.

“So I should head there.” It’s not a question. You know your time is up.

“You probably should,” he says, with a sigh and a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

It’s a quiet ride as he directs you to a public lot near the Naval Air Station where he says his friend Bob is going to meet the two of you, explaining that he doesn’t have the pass that would allow you to drop him off inside the gates.

There are a few cars in the lot, but he points out where you should park near an older, but well maintained Chevy truck. When you look over as you pull into the space a couple spots away a man in glasses waves, you don’t miss the two duffle bags that are in the second row of his cab.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. Don’t leave yet, please,” Rooster says, unbuckling and getting out of your car. And for whatever reason, you do too.

You linger in front of your car as you wait for him to come back to you. You watch as his friend Bob passes him a pen and some paper, you can tell he’s trying to fill it out quickly based on the way his hand seems to be flying over it.

There’s an intensity to the way that Bradley walks back to you. Your feet are pinned to the asphalt beneath you as his eyes stay trained on you.

You both stand there nearly chest to chest just taking the other in. 

He’s still too breathtaking for words in his uniform as the golden hour light makes the sun-streaked strand of his hair gleam like threads of gold. His eyes slowly run over your face and down the dress he’d carefully tied you in this morning.

If this is it, if this is all you’re ever going to get with him, this is how you want him to remember you. Standing in a nice dress and staring at the sunset.

He reaches out and cups your face in his warm hand.

“Say you’ll see me again,” he says, holding your gaze. You can see every color of brown reflected in his pretty eyes.

Your heart seizes in your chest, “Bradley, I-”

He lightly puts his thumb over your lips to stop you before you can finish.

“Listen, I really like you. But it wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to wait for me, so I’m not going to.” You’re unprepared for the rock that sinks to the pit of your stomach. “What I’m going to do is give you this,” he says handing you the thin paper packet, “This has all the information you need to get on base if you wanted to meet me there in two months when I get back. They give it to all of us when we get our deployment papers mailed to us, I’ve just never had a reason to fill one out for anyone before.”

You hold it in your hands and look at it. The letters are slightly sloppy in that way that men seem to have. The sheet is filled out his full name, Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw, as well as what you assume is his military I.D. number and other crumbs of information about the handsome man standing in front of you.

And you’re reminded again, that you’ve only gotten to see just the tiniest sliver of him.

“Say you’ll see me again,” he repeats, quieter this time, “Even if it’s just pretend.”

You hear what he is really saying: lie to me, please.

His friend is waiting for him in his idling truck.

And Bradley is waiting on you.

But you feel like you’re out of time.

This was supposed to be one night.

One night, one moment.

So why does this feel so big? Like you were on the precipice of something monumental.

You haven’t even known him for twenty-four hours and yet you’ve never felt like this about anyone else before. The potential of him and of what this seemed like it could be was too good, too perfect. And it scares you. Because the reality of it could crush you if you let yourself give into it and he changed his mind. You don’t want to get swept up in a daydream or a flight of fancy.

What-ifs are just heart aches, not heart breaks.

You can’t give him what he wants, not right now. But you can’t lie to him either.

Even if you want to. Even if you’re dying to.

“Stay safe, Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw,” you say, softly not trusting your voice.

Bradley leans in and tips your chin up with a finger under your chin, your eyes flutter close and your breath catches in your chest when you feel his warm breath ghosting over your face. He brushes the softest kiss you’ve ever been given against your cheek. The sweetness of it melts against your skin like a snowflake, like a wish.

“I hope I see you again,” he murmurs, lips lingering.

And then he’s gone, taken away on a summer breeze.

Those two months had moved slower than you thought possible.

You’d learned that your best friend hadn’t been able to give Hangman her number when she’d ended up being the one to try and corral the gaggle of drunken bridesmaids at last call and shepherd them into the waiting cabs. Apparently, she’d tried to look for him but by the time she’d had a moment he’d already left.

That packet of paper you’d kept on your island had taken on a life of its own.

At your friend’s wedding, you’d stood off to the side in your intricately beaded bridesmaid dress watching on with a glass of champagne in your hand as she had her first dance with her new husband. And let yourself imagine what it might have felt like if he’d have been there too. The next day as you had nursed your hangover, you’d regretted indulging those thoughts in addition to drinking the full bottle of champagne you’d snuck away with.

It felt like you were just going through the motions. Like your head was somewhere else, with someone else.

The more you tried to talk yourself out of it and forget about how he’d made you feel, the more he chased you in your dreams.

All the hours you’d spent wondering about what-if you went, what-if you waited, what-if you met him there had led you to this moment here and now. 

The drive had been made, the papers had been handed over and you were approved for entry, it was all happening.

You at Naval Air Station North Island wearing the same pink floral ruffle sundress that you had dropped him off in two months ago.

The smell of jet fuel and rubber mix with the ocean air as the planes start to land one by one and make the slow taxi along the long airstrip that leads to the ramp where they are to park. The perfect lines of them were just as immaculate on the ground as they were in the sky.

As more and more of them make their final descent, the more antsy the crowd of friends and families of the squadron members get. There’s an excited tension steadily building as they wait for the go-ahead to leave the hanger to greet the people they’ve been missing.

You can hear your heartbeat beating in your ears like a drum.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s here.

You hope you’re not making an idiot of yourself. You hope that he hasn’t forgotten you. You hope he remembers why he wanted you here in the first place. You hope he still wants you.

When the final engine of the final plane is turned off, the officer in charge announces that everyone is free to exit the hanger and another cheer goes out. This one much louder than before when the aviators had done the flyover in their faultless formations.

It’s a rush of people as they stream around you out of the domed arch of the hanger and onto the open tarmac under the cloudless blue sky.

The names on the planes had been clocked well in advance by their keen, anticipatory eyes. They know exactly which aircraft they’re heading to and who is going to be climbing out of that cockpit to greet them with equal enthusiasm.

You can see the beaming smiles, you can hear the giddy laughter.

Yet your feet stay stuck on that line between the cracked industrial cement floor and the sundrenched tarmac as you watch all those happy moments happen around you.

It’s the sound of a raspy, full bodied laugh that catches your ear and has your head whirling to the left.

And there he is.

Even from a distance the sight of Bradley Bradshaw has your heart fluttering in your chest.

You see him meeting up with a couple of other pilots with his helmet in hands. You recognized Bob by his glasses, but they’re joined by a fierce looking woman. Rooster is all smiles as she gives him a friendly, playful shove before slipping her hand into Bob’s.

There is nothing you want more than that smile of his to be directed at you.

You catch the way he seems to be checking over his shoulders and looking around to observe the joyful homecoming scenes unfolding around him.

It feels like half hope, half agony when you take that first step out of the shady hanger, onto the tarmac, and into the bright San Diego sun. There were still more than a few warm summer days to look forward to.

Summoning more courage, you take a few more tentative steps in Rooster’s direction. You feel like you’re holding your breath, waitingwaitingwaiting for him to look over and see you.

You’re noticed by his dark-haired female friend first, who nods her chin in your direction. You see the rise and fall of his shoulders as he takes a deep breath before he turns towards your direction and sees you for the first time in two months.

And for a moment, it’s just you and Bradley.

Across a crowded bar. Across a teeming tarmac.  

His eyes locked on yours and yours locked on his.

That easy smile he’d already been wearing is transformed into a wide grin that lights up his whole face.

Your stomach swoops and your feet start moving like they have a mind of their own towards him. He hands his helmet to Bob before he’s taking long strides to meet you halfway. You’re almost toe-to-toe with him, but you stop a respectable half-step further away than you’d like to be.

The two of you are a little greedy in the way you take in the other up close.

You can almost feel the warmth of his brown eyes on your skin, he’s looking at you like he is trying to soak up every inch of you. He has a heart-fluttering crinkle around his eyes as his gaze sweeps over your dress. And you know you’ve made the right choice by wearing it.

Rooster is more tan than the last time you saw him. Sweat dots his temples and his pretty curls are a little flat, no doubt from the shiny red and yellow helmet he’d all but blindly shoved into poor Bob’s hands. You notice that his lips are chapped and his nose a little sunburnt.

He’s still handsome as hell. Maybe even more so now.

“Hey, Sailor,” you greet him, giving him a grin of your own. “You look awfully familiar. Although I think the flight suit is throwing me off, maybe if you put those Summer Whites back on it’ll help jog my memory.”

He laughs and slides a finger under the thin strap of your dress and gently tugs you in even closer.

“Huh, that’s funny because I definitely remember you,” Bradley says, scooping you up with one arm, “Pretty sure you’re the girl of my dreams.”

And then he’s kissing you in a way that you’re pretty sure is going to screw you up forever.

Your wildest dreams never could have prepared you for the reminder of how good it feels to be held in his arms.

Your wildest dreams never could have prepared you for how good it feels to have his lips sliding against yours again.

Your wildest dreams never could have prepared you for a man like Bradley Bradshaw.

He was real and he was in front of you and he wanted you.

“I need you to stop smiling so much, sweetheart, so I can kiss you properly,” he says, pulling back to nudge your nose with his.

“My apologies, I’ll try to take this more seriously,” you tease, still smiling as you pull his face back to yours.

As Bradley presses you even closer, you realize this might not be a bad idea at all, but possibly the best one you’ve ever had.

There's no man quite like Bradley Bradshaw! Whether he is in his Summer Whites or in a Flight Suit he's That Man™️!

Many, many, MANY thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse for her support and endless cheerleading! He's finally got his pants off, Jordan, we did it!

If you missed Part 1 you can read it HERE! Or if you haven't read the story that started it all check out Hey, Sailor!

Moodboards: One || Two

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[thatlovinfeelin]

His Wings of Gold | Bradley Rooster Bradshaw |

When Bradley called you and asked if you would come down for his winging ceremony, you couldn’t say no. It was in September, right after the semester started, but you wouldn’t miss it for the world. You couldn’t let Bradley be all alone, not when he didn’t have any other family to be there to support him. So you got on a plane and flew down, just in time for the ceremony. 

Dressed in your casual sunday best, you made your way onto the base, showing your ID at the gate, knowing Bradley had you on the approved list. Your heart pounded in your chest as you drove your rental car. You were nervous, both for Bradley and for yourself to actually be the one to pin the wings on. You didn’t want anything to go wrong, this was his special day. 

He promised to meet you out front of the officer’s club, where the ceremony was being held. You couldn’t wait to see him, it had been months. Both due to your work schedule and his training. You hadn’t had time to fly over and see him, and you hated it. This was one of the longest periods you’d gone without seeing each other since he graduated from college.

You saw him the second you pulled into the parking lot. He had to be sweating in his dress whites, the heat was unnatural for this time of year. He paced back and forth, waiting on you. Your heart broke, you could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. 

“Bradley!” You breathed out, running from your car. 

You could see his shoulders relax when he spotted you, steps quickening so he could reach you faster. He reaches for you, wrapping you in his arms, breathing in your scent. He can’t put into words just how much he missed you. 

“Baby,” His voice cracked just enough to let you know he was trying not to cry. 

It broke your heart. You should’ve found a way to come sooner. So you hugged him back as tightly as you could, without getting makeup all over his dress jacket. You wanted him to feel every ounce of love that you had for him. He deserved nothing but love. 

“I’m here, Brad,” You whispered in his ear, “I’m right here.”

“I can’t believe you’re real. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“You aren’t sweetheart,” You told him, pulling back slightly, “You made it. It’s almost over.”

He sighed, and closed his eyes, nodding slightly. You could see the beads of sweat starting to form under his cap. So you nudged him towards the building, “Let’s go get a drink.”

He nodded again and started walking inside, hand guiding you from the small of your back. Inside was a mess of Wingees and other personnel that were here to watch the ceremony. Bradley led you over to the bar and ordered for both of you, two bottles of Bud. 

“I want to introduce you to some of my friends, if that’s okay?” He questioned. 

“Baby, this is your day. You do whatever you want,” You told him sweetly. 

He just smiled and waved over a female with dark hair, “Natasha, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

“Oh my god! It’s so nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard so much about you!” Natasha gushed, reaching over to hug you, “Brad here doesn’t shut up about you!” 

“Oh my god,” You exclaimed, “Me? I’ve heard so much about you! Brad doesn’t stop talking about you!”

The other female blushed slightly and took a sip of her beer, “Only because I’m one of the only ones to put up with his ass.”

“Yeah, thanks Nat,” He groaned, “I think you just like me because of the care packages Y/N’s sent me.”

“Yeah actually, thanks for those,” Nat said, tipping her beer towards you. 

You couldn’t help but laugh. You sent Bradley a care package once every two weeks, full of his favorite candy and snacks. Sometimes you added in his favorite movies, just to brighten up his day and remind him to take time away from studying. 

“Glad you enjoyed them too!” You laughed, hugging onto Bradley. 

When the time came for the Ceremony to start, Bradley downed the rest of his beer quickly before leaving you to sit with the rest of the winging class. You took your seat in the audience, leg bouncing as you waited. The whole time you couldn’t take your eyes off of Bradley. You wished his mom was here to see this, you know Carole would’ve been so proud of him. 

“LTJG Bradley Bradshaw, front and center,” The announcer called. 

You took a deep breath and made your way up front. The announcer continued to give a bio on Bradley, including the fact that he would be stationed in North Island for TOPGUN. You took a deep breath and stepped up towards him. They said that you were the one pinning him just as you reached him. 

“Hi baby,” You whispered to him, taking the wings, “I’m so proud of you.”

He smiled big and wide as you gently pushed the golden wings into his uniform. You tried your best to make them straight for him, so he wouldn’t have to fix them later. He held your hand and pulled you close so you could get a picture together. You couldn’t help but smile wide as everyone cheered him on. 

What neither of you knew was Pete “Maverick” Mitchell slipped out of the back door before Bradley, or you, had the chance to see him. But he wasn’t going to miss Bradley getting his wings. Even if the younger pilot was no longer speaking to the older man. But he looked at Bradley as if he was his own son, he couldn’t let this day go by without being there. 

After it was all over you took some more pictures together. You saw the way he looked at you when they awarded the spouses with plaques to thank them for their sacrifice and help they gave to their aviators during training. You could feel the love he had for you. And although you’d never talked about marriage, you knew he was thinking about it. 

“We should do that you know,” he stated a while after once you were back in his little shared house with Natasha. 

“Do what Brad?” You questioned, reaching up to kiss him. 

“Get married.”

“Braddy,” You sighed happily, “You know I would marry you in a heartbeat.”

“So, let’s go do it.”

“Right now?” You questioned.

“Why not? We can treat the after party tonight as our wedding reception,” He half joked, “We can have a big ceremony later for your family.”

“Really?” You questioned, “Don’t you want today to just be about you?” 

“Baby, it’s about us,” He replied, “You helped me earn these. I want to celebrate everything with you. So c’mon. Let’s go down to city hall.”

“Okay, Brad. Let’s do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, let’s go get married, my love.”

“Wings of gold and a wife, this day can’t get any better,” He smiled so big you swore his face hurt. 

“I love you so much,” You told him, kissing him deeply. 

“I love you even more.”