#sorry rooster

[familyvideostevie]

watching top gun maverick. might have to start reading hangman fanfic

[attapullman]

more this once this week i have written “bradley fuckin’ bradshaw”

what has he ever done to me?

[linkedin-offficial]

i just think they r neat

[polar-equinoxx]

Step one: make peace with dad

Step two: manage to survive mission with dad

Step three: have dads kiss each other on the carrier’s deck

[voidmatic]

oh my god rooster teeth is back??

bURNIE BURNS??? HELLO??? cannot believe he's returned with a damn "I'm back from getting milk" joke

eggman voice: i'M BACK IN THE FUCKING BUILDING AGAIN?!

[promisingyounglady]

stranger. | BB x Reader

SYNOPSIS: drunk hookup, no names exchanged, bradley is a pussy eating king.

PAIRING: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

You pant, breathing heavily

“W-What’s your name again?”

A head pops up from in between your legs, giving you a sight that makes you delirious from the sheer sexiness of it all.

He’s golden, the warm light from the bedside table lamp, casting a glow on his pink cheeks. Dog tags hang from his collar bones.

He’s got pretty eyes, a strong nose and a shit-eating grin covered by a mustache that’s dripping in your slick.

You hadn’t even had time to even exchange names, only knowing that you were mutual friends of Jake who met at tonight’s party. One too many shots later and you’re here getting eaten out by a fighter pilot you don’t even know the name of.

He comes forward, leaning into your breath as he mutters softly. “Bradley. Bradshaw.”

You moan, feeling how his hands slide up your body as he utters his name, embarrassingly squirming under his touch.

“Say it back” He requests, deep brown eyes gazing into yours.

You oblige, moaning his name in a breathless whisper.

“Bradley”

He smiles, kissing you to shut you up before he goes down back in between your legs, pecks littered against the flesh of your inner thighs.

“Say my name and then ask me to eat you out”

You almost can’t believe your ears. You look down, gripping the sheets as you stare the smug bastard down.

“Nicely” he adds, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit as he smirks.

You throw your head back, eyes shutting as you mumble embarrassingly. “Eat me bradley”

His hands roam to your tits, giving them a squeeze

“Louder” he replies, muffled as he’s concentrated in stuffing his face in your vagina, choosing to give small unsatisfying licks until you say it properly.

You cry out, chest rising. “Eat me out, Bradley” you grit, moaning when he finally swipes his nose along your pussy, giving you what you want.

“I don’t like you.” you huff, glaring at the head of hair you’re running your hands through.

You feel him smile against your mound, coming up to snarkily change the topic.

“What’s your name?”

[almondcroissantsandink]

Swimmin' in the floods, dancing on the clouds below / I ain't worried 'bout it

[fischiee]

[took-my-breath-away]

art idea: icemav in the stands at one of bradley’s baseball games (elementary, middle, or high school — i feel like he played for a while). i would love to see them in baseball caps, cheering, with sodas and hot dogs and the whole nine yards.

i love icemav doing different activities (especially on romcom esque dates), so if that jogs anything either, i’d love to see it! thanks for making such great art.

he struggled for months to hit it right, nerves wracking through him.

but this time he waited... for the right moment. it finally came.

[randomtacoscry]

Icemav/Hangster Sister Edits ARE HERE

(this one's also pretty loud so put your device on like 2)

[mattastr0phic]

The consequences of a friend getting me into RvB like a week or two ago and then suddenly Rooster Teeth announces it's shut down got me sobbing at 4:30 am

[ibetittering]

Had to sorry

[calkale]

thank you sam ( @k9effect ) for letting me redraw your art found here 🙏🙏 bradleys ass is unfortunately about to get court martialled but at least jake looks hot

[pollyna]

Parents reveal au.

Fitz starts the trend because he's a bored, borderline insomniac and finds the whole thing cute. By five in the morning, he has posted the first "my mom and dad at 30//me at 30" and by eight that same night, every single dagger has posted the same thing with just some variation in the age.

Nobody expectes Bradley to post anything, especially because they know both his mother and father barely reached their thirties. But then the notification that he has published something comes up to every daggers' phone and what it comes out is not what they were expecting. There are fifteen photos and the description says "dad at 35//pops at 35//me at 35" and it's a gallery of a young Admiral Kazansky and Captain Mitchell holding a toddler between their arms and then it's the picture of a calendar with all the activities written there and then there's Admiral Kazansky and Captain Mitchell dancing in a living room with Bradley at the piano. And then, and then.

Fourteen pictures of a family they didn't know existed, and Bradley himself tried to forget about it. And one, a video more than a photo, of adult Bradley singing and playing the piano in a room similar to the one in the photos with two older men dancing in the middle of it with Bradley murmuring a "dads could you stop being so embarass-" before the video is cut short

[writing-until-i-drop]

Quickie | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader | wc: 721

No use of y/n | 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings! teasing, orgasm denial, unprotected p in v (use protection), semi-public I guess?, lmk if I missed anything

Ao3

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Bradley had been eyeing you all night. You were wearing a new dress and besides a few chaste kisses, you had stayed away from him. Letting Natasha monopolize your attention. You knew what you were doing of course, laughing as Natasha spun you around to the song on the jukebox.

“Look at him, he looks like he’s about to break a tooth he’s clenching his jaw so hard,” Phoenix snorted out a laugh. She spun you around so you could see the man in question. He wasn’t paying attention to the bar flies or the pool game in front of him. No, his eyes were on you. They were hungry and dark, his gaze burning your skin.

“I’m in so much trouble when we get home,” You giggled, excited for your punishment. What would it be? A spanking? Overstimulation? Edging? “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, grab another round for us?” 

“You got it.” You headed for the bathroom, feeling Bradley’s eyes on you. What you didn’t realize was that he was right behind you until he had you lifted on top of the bathroom counter, the door locked behind you.

“Such a fucking tease,” He kissed you hard, hands pushing your dress up around your hips. “You wet for me, baby?” 

“Always,” You moaned, fisting his hair as he kissed down your neck. 

“What were you thinking, huh?” He nipped at your pulse and you moaned as he pushed your panties aside, sliding a finger into your wet heat. “Wearing that dress, acting like you ain’t got a boyfriend.” 

“Lee!” You cried out when he suddenly added a second finger, roughly spreading you open for him.

“Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You,” You moaned, not even trying to tease him. Bradley unbuckled his jeans, pushing them around his knees. You were so needy for him, already worked up from the idea of teasing him all night.

“That’s right, this pussy is mine.” He thrust into you without warning, smothering your moans with a kiss. It had been worth spending the night away from him just to get him worked up like this. Honestly, you thought he’d have enough self control to wait until you were back home or at least in the car but you should have known better.

Bradley Bradshaw was a man of action. 

Bradley set a punishing pace and it was clear, much to your disappointment, that your punishment had already begun. He was chasing his pleasure, not yours, his fingers gripping your hips so tight you knew they’d bruise. 

“All fucking mine, don’t you forget that.” Bradley growled into your ear, “Do you know how hard it was to watch every guy in this bar stare at you while you danced with Phoenix?” 

“Lee, please,” You begged. Unable to take your hands off the counter to help push yourself over the edge without falling back into the mirror.

“No,” Bradley bit your shoulder, marking his territory where every guy in the bar would be able to see it. “I’m going to fill my pussy up, fuck,” His hips jerked erratically, nearing his climax. “And you’re going to go back out there with my gum dripping down your thighs.” 

“Fuck,” Your hips bucked, trying and failing to find delicious friction to push yourself over the edge with him. “Please, Lee, I’m sorry. I won’t leave your side, just let me cum.” 

Bradley wasn’t listening to you, biting and sucking hickeys into your neck until he spilled inside of you with a grunt. 

“I love you,” Bradley panted, kissing you softly. “So much, baby.” You loved him, you really did, but you were too frustrated and horny to return the sentiment.

“Not your biggest fan right now,” You wiped away the tears in your eyes. Bradley sighed, helping you off the counter and fixing your dress.

“I love you,” He tried again, nudging your nose with his, eyes soft. “So fucking much.” You groaned, wrapping your arms around him, relaxing into his broad chest.

“I love you too but what happened to the golden rule?” You referred to the rule where he’d always make you cum before he did. Bradley chuckled, kissing your temple.

“I’ll make it up to you later, I promise. Now come on, I want everyone to see those pretty marks on your neck.”

Taglist: @wanderingsoul6261 @halflifejess @kyemna @alipap3 @yutangwl @teacupsandtopgun @glenpowellluver @closetspngirl @that-one-fangirl69 @starshinegrl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @sarah-bear706318 @shanimallina87 @atuman @carolina-on-my-mind03 @winelover27 @cherrycola27

[the-ace-with-spades]

(another unfinished post i found on the way to glasgow - that was the longest train ride in my life - I'm sorry in advance)

When Ice finally passes away, at the age of 73, in his sleep, Bradley moves Mav into their house the same day.

He gets the call in the morning, while trying to simultaneously cook Jake's breakfast and try to make their daughter put on a rain jacket. It's not Mav, but someone from the hospital. Jake doesn't know this — Bradley's face twitches only for a second and then he's back to the nagging, relaxing tone and telling their daughter it's raining and it won't stop. Jake only finds out when he comes back home from the school drop-off and Mav is already there on their couch. Jake doesn't even get the full explanation until that night, just a quick, "Ice passed away overnight."

There's only their three youngest living with them at the time — their 18-year-old daughter who attends UC San Diego, and their 15-year-old son who is still in high school, and their 7-year-old daughter — so Mav takes one of the vacant bedrooms.

The first few nights, Bradley sleeps in the same bed with him. Neither of them looks like they get much sleep. They don't really eat, either, just drink coffee and nibble on the crackers.

The kids start coming back home, and their oldest helps Jake arrange most of the things for the funeral, at least for the first few days. Mav is... numb, not really there, and Jake understands — he would, too, if he woke up one day and his husband died in his sleep next to him. Bradley is silent, mostly, the way he usually rambles to fill out the silence, the way he hums, the way he sings at any given time when there are no words spoken, it's all gone and Jake doesn't know how to fill out the silence either, how to ask, how to make it better without asking.

Bradley doesn't cry, or at least not the way he knows Mav does — he can see Mav's red eyes every morning — but there's something empty in his gaze, in the way his eyes follow Mav and in the way he melts whenever Mav is around, always close, always brushing against him. Mav spaces out a lot, doesn't talk much, doesn't—well, doesn't do much. Every time he tries to help with something, paperwork, the funeral arrangements, the hospital bills, even just sorting out the kids' school leave or Jake's own work leave, he fumbles a bit, not really able to focus on anything for long, and it's like his mind is completely scrambled. Jake doesn't know how to help him — doesn't know if they even can.

The kids, well, did not take it well, as expected. The oldest two try to be brave and help Jake with everything, keep the house going, but their youngest daughter doesn't really understand why her pops isn't back, the middle kids don't understand why now — Ice was in remission, in good health, would go hiking with them once a month, play with them in the backyard, talking about plans for the future with them, nothing that would tell them to expect their pops passing away. Mav and Ice had taken care of all of them for years, while Jake and Bradley were still deployable, and helping out as much as they could. Ice was a huge part of their lives, since the very beginning.

Bradley is certainly not doing any better but one couldn't be able to tell if they didn't know him well enough. He's always been more for packing his feelings into a tight neat box, compartmentalizing until there is too much and it all overflows in some explosive way. His focus is mostly on Mav and the kids, trusting Jake to take care of anything he can't.

Jake can't even ask him how he's doing until the night before the funeral.

Mav tells Bradley he wants to be alone that night and Bradley lands in their bedroom.

He acts normal — checks the kids are in bed, checks on Mav, prepares stuff for breakfast in the morning, has a shower. Only when he sits down in their bed, their dress blues, cleaned and pressed sitting on the hangers hooked up on their wardrobe, right in front of him—only then he freezes, a blank stare still on the uniforms.

Jake sits down next to him on the bed. "Talk to me, Bradley."

"I knew it was going to happen at some point, I just," "I just thought we would have a few more years."

Bradley sleeps curled up on his chest — he sleeps the whole night, soundlessly, and Jake is almost settled.

Almost. Mav is a couple doors down, alone.

Ice's been—had been retired many years now, but he had been high enough in the ranks that the Navy still insists on making a military funeral. Jake tried to take away as much of the flashy bullshit as possible, but there are still things leftover — the sailors with the flag, the flyover. But there's no one who wasn't close with the family at the ceremony, there's no speeches, and no one tries to hand either Mav or Bradley a flag.

The wake has an even smaller amount of people, all packed in their house — Mav hasn't been at his own house since — and thanks to Slider, mostly, and his 'the bastard wouldn't want us to mope around', it's less sad and quiet.

Mav eats two slices of cake, which is the most Jake's seen him eat since, and even laughs at some stories about Ice people are exchanging.

Ice had a good life. A big family. A big happy family that loved him.

But life goes on without him. Jake goes back to work first, then the kids have to go back to school, then Bradley has to back to work. After a couple of days alone at their house, Mav starts bringing up moving back to his own house.

He's not really doing great. He's still quiet, still spaces out more often than not, still forgets himself sometimes, still freezes whenever he tries to say something and the we he uses is one person short. He's—lifeless, for a lack of better word, and seems like he's noticing it now that Bradley isn't with him most of the waking hours.

"That is our home," Mav tells them. "I can't abandon it forever, I'd be abandoning him, too, if I—"

Jake—Jake gets it. He doesn't like it, but he gets it.

Bradley's been fielding off any suggestions of Mav moving out but he's pretty sure that soon Mav is going to pack his stuff and up and leave without asking for permission.

"If he wants to move back home, we can't exactly hold him here. against his will."

"Jake," Bradley says. "I feel like—if we let Mav go back there alone, he's going to die of a broken heart and I won't have either of them anymore."

"Sweetheart—"

"I know it's selfish," he interrupts, "but I can't lose him, too. Not now."

Jake can't make Mav stay with them — so he finds the best solution he can and instead, they all move in with Mav. Hell with it, he's going to try to get everyone to live their lives to the end. They'd done it before, Mav, Ice, Bradley, Jake and their two kids under one roof, when their oldest two were their only two kids.

The two of them and two of their youngest; two of their kids move into their house so they don't have to sell it.

Mav lives on. They try to occupy his mind by throwing their youngest at him — ask him to take her to school, pick her up from school, take her to her gymnastics class, do her homework with her, teach her how to play piano. The other kids pick up on it, too, and their high schoolers would wrap Mav into doing math workbooks with them, or ask him to drive them to their friends' house, and the kids that have moved out ask Mav to go to lunch together or call him to ask him things about car and house repairs that don't exist.

Mav gets brighter every day. Never as bright as before, but no longer so numb.

Their daughter ends up never moving out and so do they.

They all get older but Mav holds up pretty well. He does break his hip when trying to wash the windows, had a limp and terrible back ache ever since, had to stop driving because he can't see shit, had to stop piloting even sooner, and his memory is also shit, but Jake is pretty sure his cholesterol is lower than his own and he has better blood pressure than Bradley. Bradley and Mav are the ones cooking after all, Jake is the one eating all the tasty but not healthiest food, and Mav's life revolves around spoiling his cute great-grandkids and Bradley's is filled with the constant stress of managing Navy's top flying school.

For his ninetieth birthday, Mav flies a fighter jet as a passenger, the oldest person to ever do that — his youngest granddaughter is the one to take him up in the air, a junior grade lieutenant herself. They have a birthday party held at their house, Mav falls asleep in the armchair, Bradley makes fun of him and promptly falls asleep on the couch, too. Jake loves them both so much and still kind of can't believe he has this — house full of grown-up kids and grandkids of his own, his graying husband of over thirty years, his father-in-law coming to an age he wanted to see his mother at.

They're cleaning up, their two daughters who still don't have kids and didn't need to go home helping, and Mav tells them he's going to get some fresh air on their veranda. "I've got a terrible headache," is all he says.

Half an hour passes, they've packed all the clean and dirty dishes, and Bradley huffs to himself. "He fell asleep on the bench again, didn't he," and goes outside.

Bradley shouts for him in less than a minute. The ambulance is there in eight. Within the half-hour and a CT scan in the hospital, the neurologist tells them Mav is too far gone to survive the day. Within six hours, every single person from their family has come to say goodbye. When they pass the seven hours mark, Jake stands up from the plastic chair behind Bradley — he's not about to tell Bradley he should rest, but he's been holding Mav's hand since the minute they admitted Mav to the ward and hasn't eaten or drunk anything all day. He tells him he'll go grab them a coffee and bagels and gets a little nod and a smile.

Jake comes back twenty minutes later and Bradley doesn't even look up from where he's gripping Mav's hand.

"Can you get the nurse for me?"