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⚾️ about me ⚾️
haley. xviii. writer. she/her. sports romance. baseball. pretty boys in uniform.
⚾️ currently writing for ⚾️
-> top gun universe (top gun (1986) + top gun: maverick (2022))
-> bradley 'rooster' bradshaw
-> jake 'hangman' seresin
-> robert 'bob' floyd
-> beau 'cyclone' simpson
-> pete 'maverick' mitchell (1986 only)
-> nick ' goose' bradshaw (1986 - au only)
⚾️ works in progress ⚾️
-> What's Your Country Song (Top Gun Maverick universe mixtape series)
-> Angels Don't Always Have Wings (baseball player!Bradley Bradshaw x reader series)
-> Making the Grade (teacher!Bradley Bradshaw x single mom!reader series)
⚾️ masterlists ⚾️
bradley 'rooster' bradshaw
jake 'hangman' seresin
robert 'bob' floyd
beau 'cyclone' simpson
pete 'maverick' mitchell
nick 'goose' bradshaw
Two more days until Bradley could see your face in person again. Two more days until he could be home and in his own space.
Bradley let out a heavy, tired sigh, reaching his hand under his pillow. He pulled out the picture of you that he’d brought with him on deployment, tracing over your image with his fingers gently. The picture’s edges were becoming curled, worn from being tucked into flight helmets and under pillows, clutched in sweating, sometimes shaking palms, lips pressed to it in a tender kiss on occasion. He admired the photo, he’d taken it on a date you went on before he left.
His dad’s well-loved Polaroid camera, left to him as a kid, in hand, he’d taken you to Mission Beach for the day, wanting to have the full tourist experience with you before he got shipped to the middle of the Pacific again. He found a store in Coronado that sold film for vintage cameras, building up a small stockpile for himself. He’d given you a full photoshoot that day — pictures snapped at every opportunity. Watching planes fly over head, playing games in the arcade, rides on the wooden rollercoaster, rock climbing, lunch dates, mini golf, and rock climbing. He’d snapped a couple of you in your sundress, smiling sweetly at him for the camera, your hair flowing in the warm Pacific breeze.
This photo, however, was the one of you laughing on the beach, your baby blue two-piece swimsuit on, the high-waisted bottoms hugging your curves, the coordinating blue top cupping your breasts in a way that pushed them upever so slightly. He could practically hear your laugh whenever he looked at it, and it made his heartache that little bit more each time.
“Fuck," he muttered to himself, sighing again as he looked around the bunk.
Jake was on deck for the night, leaving Bradley with the shared space all to himself for at least a couple of hours. He laid back on his bed, tugging his grey sweatpants down off his hips. He spat into his free hand, using it to stroke his cock in a slow, steady pace, your photograph in his other hand, eyes fixed on your figure as he masturbated.
Fuck, he missed you.
He shut his eyes, picturing you as he continued to stroke himself, seeing the facial expression you made whenever you rode him, eyes shut with ecstasy, tits bouncing up and down, hips moving, hands pressed to his chest. The mental image alone was almost enough to drive him over the brink. He let out a deep grunt as he finished, your name escaping him in a soft moan.
Two days couldn’t come soon enough.
When he finally got home, Bradley was exhausted. The time difference had caused him more jet lag than it usually did, not that he was sleeping well without you to begin with. He never did. He’d landed earlier than anticipated, coming home a day before he was expected. He unlaced his standard issue boots, kicking them off at the door before heading directly to the laundry room. Stripping clean from his uniform, he tossed it into the washing machine, desperate for a shower and fresh, comfortable clothes.
With a dry towel wrapped around his waist, he bounded up the wooden stairs to the main bathroom. He dropped the towel as he turned the shower on, sighing happily as he stepped into the warm water, letting it wash over him for a minute, enjoying one of the first comforts of being home for the first time in six months.
Stepping out of the tower, he quickly dried himself off and wrapped his towel back around his waist before heading down the hall to the bedroom. Everything was neatly pulled together — freshly laundered sheets on the bed that still smelled like your favourite detergent, his clothes neatly put away for him, fresh flowers sat in a vase on your nightstand, and a new book sat on his, with a note card placed on top.
B, I saw this the other day at that cute little bookstore on Orange Ave. It made me think of you. I thought you’d like to read it now that you’ll have a little down time. - Love, your girl. Xo
Bradley felt his heart swell as he read your neatly printed note. He picked the book up, scanning the cover with a soft smile before setting it back down. A true crime book about a case in a podcast he’d mentioned in one of his emails home — it was perfect. God, you were perfect.
He tugged a clean white t-shirt over his head before reaching into his dresser for clean boxer briefs and a pair of well-loved denim shorts that were beginning to fray around the cuffs from being worn so frequently. Bradley looked out the bedroom window at the landscape, happy to finally be home. He’d missed all the little things while he was gone — the palm trees, the smell of those little laundry scent beads you swore by, your coordinating body wash, shampoo and conditioner that you insisted on buying for him when you’d learned he’d been coasting through life for 37 years with a 3-in-1 bottle — almost as much as he’d missed you.
Downstairs in the kitchen, he got to work crafting himself the sandwich to top all sandwiches. He was starving, and after months of bland, unexciting meals on board an aircraft carrier, all he wanted was comfort food. With his turkey club piled high and a glass bottle of Coke from Mexico in hand, he settled into his favourite chair and began to enjoy himself until you came home from work.
When you did come home, you heard the faint sound of voices coming from the back of the house. You dropped your bag at the front door, running through the house so quickly, you’d forgotten to take your shoes off. In the living room sat Bradley, in his favourite, well-loved chair, dozing as sports highlights played in the background, a plate with remnants of a sandwich and a half-finished bottle of Coke sat on the table beside him.
You leaned in, pressing your lips to his forehead as you stroked his curls, breathing in the smell of his shampoo. He was finally home.
Bradley’s eyes fluttered open, a smile forming on his lips as he wrapped his arms tightly around you, his nose pressed to your neck as you settled into his lap.
“Missed you,” he murmured against your skin, peppering you with kisses.
“Missed you more, B,” you echoed as you raked your fingers through his hair.
“God, I missed you so much, honey. This might have been the hardest trip away from you yet.”
Bradley’s hands rested firmly on your hips as his lips wandered down your neck to your collarbone. He mumbled against your skin, shoving the strap of your tank top down off of your shoulder. His teeth grazed at your exposed, sun kissed skin, causing you to let out a gasp.
“Bradley!” you squealed, laughing as his deep brown eyes looked at you, taking in the sight of your face again.
“Mhmm, I missed that laugh of yours,” he hummed, his large hands moving to cup your breasts. “I’ve missed these tits of yours too.”
“I bet you have, were Jake’s not doing it for you?” you teased.
Bradley scoffed as he pulled your tank top off over your head, tossing it off to somewhere in the void across the room. With one hand snaked around your back, he unfastened your bra in one fluid motion, discarding it to the floor. He grinned at you before pressing his mouth back to your collarbone, thumbs tracing circles over your nipples as they pebbled at his touch.
“No, one’s could do it for me like yours do, honey, you know that. Look at you. So pretty for me. My girl’s always looking pretty, ain’t she?” he purred between kisses to your breasts.
“Bradley,” you laughed, shaking your head, “This is what you want now that you’re finally home?”
“I’ve been wantin’ this since about two hours after I left, six months without you has been torture. I contemplated quitting when I came home. I thought about faking an injury so they’d discharge me. I tried thinking up a thousand ways to come home early — all of them bad.” He nodded, as he looked up at you, hands still cupping your tits.
“Mhmm, you thought about quitting for me? That’s not the Bradley Bradshaw I know.”
“I swear, honey, this time…this time was harder than usual.”
“Well, I’m all yours now,” you nodded, your hand stroking his cheek.
Bradley hummed to himself, tilting his head to the side as he thought for a minute. He looked at you, watching as you bit your lower lip. The sight of you alone after so much time apart was enough to make him hard, but now it was becoming unbearable. He needed you. He craved you.
“Upstairs, now,” he urged, nodding his head as you got off his lap.
You grinned to yourself as you headed up the stairs, walking just slowly enough to your bedroom so Bradley could catch the way your hips swayed with every step, your taut ass bouncing with each movement. It was enough to drive any man insane, but Bradley could barely contain himself.
Fuck, he missed you.
He pushed you on to the bed, crawling on all fours as he hovered over your body with a wide grin plastered to his face. You placed a hand on his chest, steadying him as your smile faltered for a second. You held your breath for a moment before exhaling, nodding slowly as Bradley sat back on his knees for a minute.
“Go easy on me, big guy, it’s been a long six months, I’m out of practice,” you teased, grinning at him.
“Shoot, honey, I thought you were gonna tell me you didn’t want me to-never mind, I’ll go easy on ya. I always do, don’t I?”
“Roo, you do the exact opposite of going easy.” You grinned, rolling your eyes at Bradley.
Bradley repositioned himself over your body, smirking as he took in the sight of you again. His lips began trailing down your abdomen your shorts, sending chills running up and down your spine with every breathy kiss, every drag of his mustache against your skin. With a skillful hand, he popped the button on your shorts open, sitting up as he pulled them off of you. He hooked two fingers into the crotch of your lace trimmed underwear, shoving them out of the way as he ducked his head between your thighs. Feather-light kisses dotted your inner thighs before his mouth found your core. He flattened his tongue against your slit, running it up your folds slowly as he savoured everything he’d missed for the last six months.
“Just as pretty as I remember it, fuck.”
His fingers spread your folds apart, giving him better access to your clit. The tip of his tongue traced shapes along it, pressing varying degrees of pressure into you, the tip of his nose pressing into your puffy cunt, swollen from how badly you’d been wanting him for the last six months. He mumbled something against your skin, his lips vibrating against your clit as he pressed another kiss to you. He sat himself up fully, smirking at you.
“Get up, pretty girl, I have an idea.”
You let out a whine in protest, sitting up on the bed as Bradley now laid down on his back. Shooting him a look, you raised your palms in protest, shaking your head at him.
“Bradley, you seriously stopped so I would give it to you instead?”
“What? No,” Bradley laughed, shaking his head as he gestured to his face. “Take a seat.”
“You want me to…?”
Bradley lifted his head up off the pillow, giving you a lustful stare, his eyebrows knitting together as he nodded his head. “Did I stutter? Take. A. Seat.”
You rolled your eyes, giving your head a shake as you slipped out of your underwear, dropping them to the floor. Climbing back on to the bed, you hovered yourself above Bradley’s mouth, looking down at him as you chewed on your lip. He shook his head, his mustache tickling at your inner thigh as he kissed up your leg. In one swift motion, he gripped your thighs tightly, pulling you down until his lips were directly under your dripping core, smirking as he murmured against your skin again.
“That’s my girl. I’ve missed this pussy so fuckin’ much.” He grunts, nodding his head slightly as he buries his tongue into you, nose pressed to your clit.
“Bradley!” you whimper, your eyes fluttering shut as you reached down, fingers tugging on his dark curls.
Bradley’s tongue worked into you at a breakneck speed, so fast that you wondered how he was able to breathe. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, blunt fingernails digging into your soft skin as he held you in place. His mouth worked on you relentlessly, refusing to let up until he had you a screaming, crying, pretty little mess, just how he (and you) liked it.
“Bradley, Bradley, Bradley,” you babbled, unable to say anything other than his name as his tongue fucked into you.
He grunted into your cunt again, mumbling words of praise into your skin. “Tastes so fuckin’ sweet, honey, so fuckin’ sweet.” He growled before delving his tongue into you again.
Your thighs began to shudder and shake, spasming as you felt your orgasm hit you harder than ever before. You shut your eyes, tears stinging as Bradley continued, not breaking his rhythm once as you came, his tongue quickly lapping at your arousal hungrily. He moved his mouth up to your clit, kissing at it with a couple of powerful sucks before pulling his mouth away. He let go of your thighs, a couple of darker marks forming on your skin from where he got carried away, gripping you a little too tightly. You got up, sitting on the bed, panting as you tried to find your mental clarity again.
Bradley rolled onto his side and surveyed your thigh, pressing gentle kisses to the darkened marks on your skin in apology. Once you found your words again, his big brown eyes looked up at you from where he was laying on the bed.
“Roo,” you nodded, placing a hand on his cheek, “I missed you so much.”
“I missed ya too, honey. Ain’t done with ya yet though.”
With that, Bradley quickly shimmied out of his denim shorts and boxers, kicking them off clumsily. He crawled across the bed, finding the spot between your thighs. His hands smoothed over your legs, lifting them up and hoisting them up onto his shoulders. You curved your knees around him as he aligned his hardened cock with your entrance, easing into you with a soft groan.
“That’s my girl, taking me so well. You missed this cock, didn’t you? Missed me fillin’ ya up, huh, pretty girl?” He purred, pausing as he felt your walls stretching around him.
“Yes, baby,” you nodded, whining as he stretched you.
God, he was right. You did miss him. You missed him more than you wanted to let on, you missed his presence, his voice, the silly things he’d do that pissed you off, you missed the way he made love to you, passionate and caring, full of praise, making it his life’s mission to make you feel good. He took it as seriously as his work - calculated movements, using the same precision and laser-focus he did in the air.
Your eyelids fluttered shut again as you felt him pull out of you, pushing himself back into you again with a powerful thrust of his hips. Bradley tutted his tongue against the roof of his mouth, refusing to move again. “Nuh-uh, baby girl, keep those pretty eyes on me. Want you lookin’ at me when I fuck you, got it?”
You nodded dumbly as he pounded into your entrance again, making your head spin as your walls clenched around him. He began thrusting into you, starting slowly as he found his rhythm again, savouring every movement, every inch of you that he’d missed over the last six months. Bradley gently pressed his palm into your pubic bone as he thrusted harder, faster into you, the sensation heightening with the added pressure he was giving. You could tell by the knot turning in your stomach that it wasn’t going to be long before you were coming for him again, and if Bradley had his way, it wouldn’t be the last time you did tonight.
“Feelin’ so fuckin’ good, pretty girl. That’s my girl. That’s my pretty girl,” he praised, his confident demeanor melting away, leaving Bradley a pussy drunk, babbling mess, unable to say anything other than your praises, repeating your name over and over as if it was a spoken prayer.
“‘M not gonna last, honey,” Bradley shook his head as he moaned breathlessly.
Fuck.
His breath hitched in his throat as his hips slowed, stilling as he came inside of you. Bradley let out the deepest grunt you’d ever heard — the past six months of missing you drawing out of him along with it. Ducking his head down as he tried to catch his breath, his curls slicked and stuck to his forehead with sweat, he panted heavily, gently letting your legs go as you dropped them back down to the bed. He looked up at you, deep brown eyes fixed on your features as he nodded breathlessly.
“Fuck, I missed you, honey. I missed this, and you, and home.”
thank you so much for requesting @bradshawssugarbaby this is quite literally not at all what you asked for I'm so sorry 🫣🫣🫣🫣
1335 words
Warnings: teasing, "denying orgasm", a twinge of a little "Mr. Harrington kink if you squint
steve harrington x fem!reader | my blog is 18+
“Steve.”
You were aware the way it came out sounded a lot like the word “More” instead of the attempt to remind him you should be working.
He hummed from the crook of your neck, lips molded around your pulse point while a hand tilted you open gently and the other ran up and down the inside of your thigh.
The same thigh that was draped over his lap, skirt pushed up it a little indecently for the activities you were supposed to be doing. There were notebooks and pens left open and blank on the coffee table. The snacks and a stack of VHS tapes next to them, a promise of a movie night to him as a reward, but all your brain could do was remind you to be relieved you put on the new Calvin's you got.
Your fingers clutched at the collar of his navy polo, pads slipping lower and toying with the little button as he pestered more kisses down your neck.
“We…oh,” you sighed when his tongue traced your collarbone and his fingers squeezed your inner thigh.
“We?” Steve murmured over the column of your throat, nose skating higher on your jaw as his thumb soothed circles over the back of your neck.
“We should be studying. The test is tomorrow.”
Shut up! College isn't important, what's important is what this boy is doing with his mouth!
“I am studying,” Steve spoke directly into your ear, low and raspy.
A shiver danced down your spine and right back up when the ghost of his smile against your skin lingered.
“Oh really?” You huffed, hand limply gesturing to the coffee table as the boy finally removed himself from your neck to meet your gaze, tips of your noses almost touching.
His eyes were bright with that sort of look that told you he was up to something and you were probably gonna really like it.
A cocky sort of smirk twisted up the corner of his lips, the one that lifted the two little freckles on his cheek and made the laugh lines around his eyes crease.
Fuck, should be illegal to look this cute.
“Mhm,” he nodded around the hum, nose tapping yours.
This time, you gestured a little more confidently, down towards your lap draped ungracefully over his.
“Please explain to me how this is studying, Harrington.”
Steve smiled, delighted you asked, falling directly into his trap.
It happened quickly, and with a loud ‘Oof' from you as he pulled you over his lap further, now straddling it.
“Let's start with math, yeah?” He grinned at you, cocking his head and raising his eyebrows confidently.
You held your breath as his hands squeezed your hips and roamed slowly up your body. His eyes tracked their movements, and you couldn't deny he was definitely focused. A look of determination in his eyes you'd never once seen directed towards a textbook.
“If Steve kisses his girlfriend once…” he whispered before leaning in and doing just that. Lips slotted against yours in one lingering press before they pulled away. His eyes remained on your mouth in a pout now, hands squeezing at your ribs when you leaned in for more.
His lips quirked up before he gave you one more, just as chaste and just as frustratingly cut off as he added, “And he gives her another one. How many kisses is that?”
“Three.”
Steve laughed, your scrunched up nose knocking his as you attempted to get your third one. He turned so your lips hit his cheek as he made a buzzer noise.
“Wrong. It's two, baby.”
Your fingers curled into the back of his hair, a huff hitting his jaw as you adjusted yourself on his lap lower. When wet cotton hit his denim covered bulge, you made a soft noise.
Steve's lips parted at the sound, his hands tracing your curves till they were back to your hips and he could watch the way you try to fight against his hold.
“How about some Science?” He asked, feigning nonchalance.
Steve slowly grinded your hips down against him, helping you roll them so the zipper on his Levi's could hit your clit in a way that had you gasping and clutching at his shoulders.
His voice comes out strained, but still amused, “Hypothesis: If we keep doing this, you'll come before I even get inside you.”
The sentence made you groan, forehead tapping his in defeat as he kept your hips rolling in a perfect rhythm.
“Steve” it really did come out like “More” that time.
“You're right,” he lets his smile when you groaned as he stopped you from moving. “Science is boring.”
His hands guided you down, back pressed to the couch so the silk of your skirt could glide higher up your thighs while he lowered his head between them.
His lips skimmed the inside of your thigh, brushing against it as he spoke, “Spelling more your subject?”
Your breath hitched as he pressed his nose into the damp cotton between your legs. His groan vibrated against you before he was moving over your clit in an odd shape.
Too focused on the feeling of finally getting some more friction against the throbbing nerves, you almost missed it when he asked, “What's that letter, honey?”
You gulped, hands tugging in his hair as he tutted softly, “Missed it? I'll do it again. Pay attention. There's a test later.”
He made the same movement, and your eyelids flutter as you gasped out, “M?”
He hummed his approval and pushed your thighs wider when they tried to close as he licked one long stripe up you. He waits until he hears your quiet whimper of the letter ‘I’.
Your hand clutched his shoulder, back arching off of the couch as a finger hooked your soaked underwear to the side. A barely there touch, the tip of his tongue, traced another letter. It started on the outside, skimming up skin, dragging through your slick diagonally, before it dragged up the other side.
“N.”
You practically moaned it, tugging on his shoulders, aching him to keep going, to get closer.
“So good baby,” he praised you, watching the way you fluttered around nothing. Then his thumb pushed into your clit and made long and hard brushes over it in the shape of the last letter.
Your stomach tightened, something in your chest ached as you said ‘E’, and Steve asked with a murmur against your thigh.
“What's that spell?”
“Mine,” you whimpered the word, fingers digging into his shoulders and desperate for more.
Steve kissed your clit, the nod of his head bumping his nose against it as he praised you again.
“Good job, you're gonna ace that test.”
And then he was sitting up, facing the coffee table and uncapping a pen.
You watched, your mouth dropped open in shock and annoyance as he ignored you. Your elbows propped you up as you asked, “Are you serious right now?”
Steve smirked, looking down at the page of his notebook and seeing not a goddamn thing as he shrugged.
“I'm always serious about studying, honey.”
You waited, sure he'd look up at you, break before you did, but when his pen scratched across the page your fingers curled into the couch cushion, until you realized you'd studied Steve just as much.
Lifting yourself back up to sitting slowly, you let the tips of your nails scratch up his thigh. As you leaned in to his profile, you let your nose bump his cheek as your fingers did the same to where he was painfully straining against his zipper.
You pouted, lips against his jaw.
“Are you going to give the test Mr. Harrington?”
Steve's pen twitched, missing the line on the paper as he swallowed, the ball not in his court anymore.
Your name came out of his lips in a whimper as you squeezed him through the denim.
Two more days until Bradley could see your face in person again. Two more days until he could be home and in his own space.
Bradley let out a heavy, tired sigh, reaching his hand under his pillow. He pulled out the picture of you that he’d brought with him on deployment, tracing over your image with his fingers gently. The picture’s edges were becoming curled, worn from being tucked into flight helmets and under pillows, clutched in sweating, sometimes shaking palms, lips pressed to it in a tender kiss on occasion. He admired the photo, he’d taken it on a date you went on before he left.
His dad’s well-loved Polaroid camera, left to him as a kid, in hand, he’d taken you to Mission Beach for the day, wanting to have the full tourist experience with you before he got shipped to the middle of the Pacific again. He found a store in Coronado that sold film for vintage cameras, building up a small stockpile for himself. He’d given you a full photoshoot that day — pictures snapped at every opportunity. Watching planes fly over head, playing games in the arcade, rides on the wooden rollercoaster, rock climbing, lunch dates, mini golf, and rock climbing. He’d snapped a couple of you in your sundress, smiling sweetly at him for the camera, your hair flowing in the warm Pacific breeze.
This photo, however, was the one of you laughing on the beach, your baby blue two-piece swimsuit on, the high-waisted bottoms hugging your curves, the coordinating blue top cupping your breasts in a way that pushed them upever so slightly. He could practically hear your laugh whenever he looked at it, and it made his heartache that little bit more each time.
“Fuck," he muttered to himself, sighing again as he looked around the bunk.
Jake was on deck for the night, leaving Bradley with the shared space all to himself for at least a couple of hours. He laid back on his bed, tugging his grey sweatpants down off his hips. He spat into his free hand, using it to stroke his cock in a slow, steady pace, your photograph in his other hand, eyes fixed on your figure as he masturbated.
Fuck, he missed you.
He shut his eyes, picturing you as he continued to stroke himself, seeing the facial expression you made whenever you rode him, eyes shut with ecstasy, tits bouncing up and down, hips moving, hands pressed to his chest. The mental image alone was almost enough to drive him over the brink. He let out a deep grunt as he finished, your name escaping him in a soft moan.
Two days couldn’t come soon enough.
When he finally got home, Bradley was exhausted. The time difference had caused him more jet lag than it usually did, not that he was sleeping well without you to begin with. He never did. He’d landed earlier than anticipated, coming home a day before he was expected. He unlaced his standard issue boots, kicking them off at the door before heading directly to the laundry room. Stripping clean from his uniform, he tossed it into the washing machine, desperate for a shower and fresh, comfortable clothes.
With a dry towel wrapped around his waist, he bounded up the wooden stairs to the main bathroom. He dropped the towel as he turned the shower on, sighing happily as he stepped into the warm water, letting it wash over him for a minute, enjoying one of the first comforts of being home for the first time in six months.
Stepping out of the tower, he quickly dried himself off and wrapped his towel back around his waist before heading down the hall to the bedroom. Everything was neatly pulled together — freshly laundered sheets on the bed that still smelled like your favourite detergent, his clothes neatly put away for him, fresh flowers sat in a vase on your nightstand, and a new book sat on his, with a note card placed on top.
B, I saw this the other day at that cute little bookstore on Orange Ave. It made me think of you. I thought you’d like to read it now that you’ll have a little down time. - Love, your girl. Xo
Bradley felt his heart swell as he read your neatly printed note. He picked the book up, scanning the cover with a soft smile before setting it back down. A true crime book about a case in a podcast he’d mentioned in one of his emails home — it was perfect. God, you were perfect.
He tugged a clean white t-shirt over his head before reaching into his dresser for clean boxer briefs and a pair of well-loved denim shorts that were beginning to fray around the cuffs from being worn so frequently. Bradley looked out the bedroom window at the landscape, happy to finally be home. He’d missed all the little things while he was gone — the palm trees, the smell of those little laundry scent beads you swore by, your coordinating body wash, shampoo and conditioner that you insisted on buying for him when you’d learned he’d been coasting through life for 37 years with a 3-in-1 bottle — almost as much as he’d missed you.
Downstairs in the kitchen, he got to work crafting himself the sandwich to top all sandwiches. He was starving, and after months of bland, unexciting meals on board an aircraft carrier, all he wanted was comfort food. With his turkey club piled high and a glass bottle of Coke from Mexico in hand, he settled into his favourite chair and began to enjoy himself until you came home from work.
When you did come home, you heard the faint sound of voices coming from the back of the house. You dropped your bag at the front door, running through the house so quickly, you’d forgotten to take your shoes off. In the living room sat Bradley, in his favourite, well-loved chair, dozing as sports highlights played in the background, a plate with remnants of a sandwich and a half-finished bottle of Coke sat on the table beside him.
You leaned in, pressing your lips to his forehead as you stroked his curls, breathing in the smell of his shampoo. He was finally home.
Bradley’s eyes fluttered open, a smile forming on his lips as he wrapped his arms tightly around you, his nose pressed to your neck as you settled into his lap.
“Missed you,” he murmured against your skin, peppering you with kisses.
“Missed you more, B,” you echoed as you raked your fingers through his hair.
“God, I missed you so much, honey. This might have been the hardest trip away from you yet.”
Bradley’s hands rested firmly on your hips as his lips wandered down your neck to your collarbone. He mumbled against your skin, shoving the strap of your tank top down off of your shoulder. His teeth grazed at your exposed, sun kissed skin, causing you to let out a gasp.
“Bradley!” you squealed, laughing as his deep brown eyes looked at you, taking in the sight of your face again.
“Mhmm, I missed that laugh of yours,” he hummed, his large hands moving to cup your breasts. “I’ve missed these tits of yours too.”
“I bet you have, were Jake’s not doing it for you?” you teased.
Bradley scoffed as he pulled your tank top off over your head, tossing it off to somewhere in the void across the room. With one hand snaked around your back, he unfastened your bra in one fluid motion, discarding it to the floor. He grinned at you before pressing his mouth back to your collarbone, thumbs tracing circles over your nipples as they pebbled at his touch.
“No, one’s could do it for me like yours do, honey, you know that. Look at you. So pretty for me. My girl’s always looking pretty, ain’t she?” he purred between kisses to your breasts.
“Bradley,” you laughed, shaking your head, “This is what you want now that you’re finally home?”
“I’ve been wantin’ this since about two hours after I left, six months without you has been torture. I contemplated quitting when I came home. I thought about faking an injury so they’d discharge me. I tried thinking up a thousand ways to come home early — all of them bad.” He nodded, as he looked up at you, hands still cupping your tits.
“Mhmm, you thought about quitting for me? That’s not the Bradley Bradshaw I know.”
“I swear, honey, this time…this time was harder than usual.”
“Well, I’m all yours now,” you nodded, your hand stroking his cheek.
Bradley hummed to himself, tilting his head to the side as he thought for a minute. He looked at you, watching as you bit your lower lip. The sight of you alone after so much time apart was enough to make him hard, but now it was becoming unbearable. He needed you. He craved you.
“Upstairs, now,” he urged, nodding his head as you got off his lap.
You grinned to yourself as you headed up the stairs, walking just slowly enough to your bedroom so Bradley could catch the way your hips swayed with every step, your taut ass bouncing with each movement. It was enough to drive any man insane, but Bradley could barely contain himself.
Fuck, he missed you.
He pushed you on to the bed, crawling on all fours as he hovered over your body with a wide grin plastered to his face. You placed a hand on his chest, steadying him as your smile faltered for a second. You held your breath for a moment before exhaling, nodding slowly as Bradley sat back on his knees for a minute.
“Go easy on me, big guy, it’s been a long six months, I’m out of practice,” you teased, grinning at him.
“Shoot, honey, I thought you were gonna tell me you didn’t want me to-never mind, I’ll go easy on ya. I always do, don’t I?”
“Roo, you do the exact opposite of going easy.” You grinned, rolling your eyes at Bradley.
Bradley repositioned himself over your body, smirking as he took in the sight of you again. His lips began trailing down your abdomen your shorts, sending chills running up and down your spine with every breathy kiss, every drag of his mustache against your skin. With a skillful hand, he popped the button on your shorts open, sitting up as he pulled them off of you. He hooked two fingers into the crotch of your lace trimmed underwear, shoving them out of the way as he ducked his head between your thighs. Feather-light kisses dotted your inner thighs before his mouth found your core. He flattened his tongue against your slit, running it up your folds slowly as he savoured everything he’d missed for the last six months.
“Just as pretty as I remember it, fuck.”
His fingers spread your folds apart, giving him better access to your clit. The tip of his tongue traced shapes along it, pressing varying degrees of pressure into you, the tip of his nose pressing into your puffy cunt, swollen from how badly you’d been wanting him for the last six months. He mumbled something against your skin, his lips vibrating against your clit as he pressed another kiss to you. He sat himself up fully, smirking at you.
“Get up, pretty girl, I have an idea.”
You let out a whine in protest, sitting up on the bed as Bradley now laid down on his back. Shooting him a look, you raised your palms in protest, shaking your head at him.
“Bradley, you seriously stopped so I would give it to you instead?”
“What? No,” Bradley laughed, shaking his head as he gestured to his face. “Take a seat.”
“You want me to…?”
Bradley lifted his head up off the pillow, giving you a lustful stare, his eyebrows knitting together as he nodded his head. “Did I stutter? Take. A. Seat.”
You rolled your eyes, giving your head a shake as you slipped out of your underwear, dropping them to the floor. Climbing back on to the bed, you hovered yourself above Bradley’s mouth, looking down at him as you chewed on your lip. He shook his head, his mustache tickling at your inner thigh as he kissed up your leg. In one swift motion, he gripped your thighs tightly, pulling you down until his lips were directly under your dripping core, smirking as he murmured against your skin again.
“That’s my girl. I’ve missed this pussy so fuckin’ much.” He grunts, nodding his head slightly as he buries his tongue into you, nose pressed to your clit.
“Bradley!” you whimper, your eyes fluttering shut as you reached down, fingers tugging on his dark curls.
Bradley’s tongue worked into you at a breakneck speed, so fast that you wondered how he was able to breathe. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, blunt fingernails digging into your soft skin as he held you in place. His mouth worked on you relentlessly, refusing to let up until he had you a screaming, crying, pretty little mess, just how he (and you) liked it.
“Bradley, Bradley, Bradley,” you babbled, unable to say anything other than his name as his tongue fucked into you.
He grunted into your cunt again, mumbling words of praise into your skin. “Tastes so fuckin’ sweet, honey, so fuckin’ sweet.” He growled before delving his tongue into you again.
Your thighs began to shudder and shake, spasming as you felt your orgasm hit you harder than ever before. You shut your eyes, tears stinging as Bradley continued, not breaking his rhythm once as you came, his tongue quickly lapping at your arousal hungrily. He moved his mouth up to your clit, kissing at it with a couple of powerful sucks before pulling his mouth away. He let go of your thighs, a couple of darker marks forming on your skin from where he got carried away, gripping you a little too tightly. You got up, sitting on the bed, panting as you tried to find your mental clarity again.
Bradley rolled onto his side and surveyed your thigh, pressing gentle kisses to the darkened marks on your skin in apology. Once you found your words again, his big brown eyes looked up at you from where he was laying on the bed.
“Roo,” you nodded, placing a hand on his cheek, “I missed you so much.”
“I missed ya too, honey. Ain’t done with ya yet though.”
With that, Bradley quickly shimmied out of his denim shorts and boxers, kicking them off clumsily. He crawled across the bed, finding the spot between your thighs. His hands smoothed over your legs, lifting them up and hoisting them up onto his shoulders. You curved your knees around him as he aligned his hardened cock with your entrance, easing into you with a soft groan.
“That’s my girl, taking me so well. You missed this cock, didn’t you? Missed me fillin’ ya up, huh, pretty girl?” He purred, pausing as he felt your walls stretching around him.
“Yes, baby,” you nodded, whining as he stretched you.
God, he was right. You did miss him. You missed him more than you wanted to let on, you missed his presence, his voice, the silly things he’d do that pissed you off, you missed the way he made love to you, passionate and caring, full of praise, making it his life’s mission to make you feel good. He took it as seriously as his work - calculated movements, using the same precision and laser-focus he did in the air.
Your eyelids fluttered shut again as you felt him pull out of you, pushing himself back into you again with a powerful thrust of his hips. Bradley tutted his tongue against the roof of his mouth, refusing to move again. “Nuh-uh, baby girl, keep those pretty eyes on me. Want you lookin’ at me when I fuck you, got it?”
You nodded dumbly as he pounded into your entrance again, making your head spin as your walls clenched around him. He began thrusting into you, starting slowly as he found his rhythm again, savouring every movement, every inch of you that he’d missed over the last six months. Bradley gently pressed his palm into your pubic bone as he thrusted harder, faster into you, the sensation heightening with the added pressure he was giving. You could tell by the knot turning in your stomach that it wasn’t going to be long before you were coming for him again, and if Bradley had his way, it wouldn’t be the last time you did tonight.
“Feelin’ so fuckin’ good, pretty girl. That’s my girl. That’s my pretty girl,” he praised, his confident demeanor melting away, leaving Bradley a pussy drunk, babbling mess, unable to say anything other than your praises, repeating your name over and over as if it was a spoken prayer.
“‘M not gonna last, honey,” Bradley shook his head as he moaned breathlessly.
Fuck.
His breath hitched in his throat as his hips slowed, stilling as he came inside of you. Bradley let out the deepest grunt you’d ever heard — the past six months of missing you drawing out of him along with it. Ducking his head down as he tried to catch his breath, his curls slicked and stuck to his forehead with sweat, he panted heavily, gently letting your legs go as you dropped them back down to the bed. He looked up at you, deep brown eyes fixed on your features as he nodded breathlessly.
“Fuck, I missed you, honey. I missed this, and you, and home.”
I have zero patience for cliques and childish behavior. I just want to fangirl with people who love the same shit I do and write smutty little stories. If that’s your vibe that’s awesome we can totally be friends. If you are the type to talk shit about people just because you have nothing better to do or because you are jealous of someone else I need you to gtfo of my space, I am halfway through my thirties and I’ve done some living, childish drama is something that stays in my past and I won’t let it mar my present or future.
Some of yall need to grow up. Touch grass. Go buy a vibrator to release all that bs you clearly have built up.
I really really hate that I even feel the need to write this. I've got back and forth over it a lot over the last 36 hours - it's not something that I've taken lightly or done without a lot of thought, but I have to do what is best for myself, and more importantly, my family.
Don't get me wrong - I LOVE a lot of people I've met thanks to the TGM fandom. My personal interactions with everyone have been (for the most part) nothing short of lovely. I feel spoiled with how good my experience on here has been over the past six months since I joined in to this. I've made some great friends and rediscovered my passion for writing and reading, I've found myself some really good creative outlets for my ADHD and mental health struggles, and I'm SO thankful for it.
BUT.
I can no longer be part of a community where I don't feel safe.
I love writing. I love fanfiction. I love writing fanfiction where Bradley Bradshaw is a baseball player. I love writing silly little stories based off country songs I love where Jake Seresin asks you to marry him while quoting Florida Georgia Line. I love writing smut with no plot about Bradley and Bob, and Jake, and Goose - I write because I love it.
However, I can't love something if the community makes me genuinely afraid and concerned for not only my own safety, but the safety of my child, and the safety of my friends.
Doxxing is dangerous. End of story.
It can cost innocent people everything. Everything. Jobs. Families. Lives. It's irresponsible and foolish, and comes with serious real life consequences, not just for the person who you decide to target. It creates a domino effect.
I don't know about y'all, but I don't wish to take part in a community where I feel constantly worried someone is going to be out to ruin my life if I don't agree with them on something. If I post a fic that might be similarly written to someone else's. If I don't answer a request in my inbox. If I just do something that generally pisses someone off.
It's not productive for my own mental health, and honestly? It's taken any enjoyment out of this for me.
So, this is me - saying that indefinitely, I'm going on hiatus. I'm still deciding the future of this blog and my future on Tumblr in general. I might come back when I feel safe once again. I might never come back. I might do an overhaul and change my URL. I might make a whole new account. I don't know.
Thanks for the fun times and the love on my stories since I joined in October. I appreciate everyone who has made me feel so welcomed and accepted on here, and taken me from being a sad, depressed housewife with ADHD to feeling myself again. Hopefully this isn't goodbye, it's just see you later, but we'll see how things pan out.
-- Haley 💜
P.S. Whoever is responsible for this? I hope you're happy. I hope nothing more that you're happy and can sleep well at night knowing you've taken something that so many of us use as an escape from reality, as fun and enjoyment, and completely destroyed it without a second thought.
Witch hunting is never okay! EVER! I’ve been talking with Mo and we both feel this needs to be said.
Back in late 2023, a group we considered friends exploded (I’m sure our regulars remember when everything died and everyone was being passive aggressive) and alot of people know who for sure was in that group.
That being said…
While we did have suspicions based on what was used in the doxxing, we are not outright blaming ANYONE! Nor are we encouraging people to send death threats to people who very well could be 100% innocent.
We very much would love to have answers as to who and why they did it but we are not always blessed to receive these answers.
If you have spoken to someone who shared a name who could very well be an option, DO NOT go and threaten them, anonymous or not.
Just like what I and @sorchathered have said, Karma is a bitch and they have whats coming to them.
We do not have a vendetta nor are we dwelling on who did it. Mo is doing her best to move on from this shitty situation so please respect that and do the same for yourself.
Once again!
For everyone’s sake, safety, and mental health, PLEASE leave it alone and move on.
If you still expect content after this from ANY of your favourite creators I’d think again. You want to dox people off a platform that runs off FREE Content then you have another thing coming.
Alright. Any new oneshots or fics that I might write for TGM are gonna be exclusively over on ao3. My username is HuyanaShadowheart, so you can follow me over there. Whenever I find the time and energy to write again.
And listen, I’ve had my fair share of issues with people in the fandom, and some of those friendships went up in flames in a big way. But never, not once, did it cross my mind to do anything that would jeopardize their safety and livelihood. You block and you try to move forward. That’s it. I hope this person steps on lego barefoot.
Waking up one morning and deciding you want to potentially ruin someone’s life (whom you don’t even actually know!) is wild, and incredibly sad. This is supposed to be a safe, fun place to share silly little stories about silly little fictional characters and it’s gotten completely out of hand. We’re adults with real adult problems and real adult lives, and I know children who are more mature than this.
I don’t blame anyone who is choosing to bow out. Protect your peace and at this rate, your livelihood. And that’s a crazy thing to have to say in a fandom.
coppertone boys with a need for speed @bradshawssugarbaby - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
