Okok Writing This Tonight

okok writing this tonight 🫡

i have a rooster x kazansky!reader idea.. mayhaps i will write tonight

MORE ROO AND BG WHO ELSE SCREAMED

Hey babe, do you have a new schedule? ✨

Yep! Coming in hot!

TODAY: The Curveball part 1!

Wednesday: Batting Practice part 23!

Thursday: Ready, Rough and Unromantic (a Roo and BG one-shot!)

𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 | bradley "rooster" bradshaw

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x f!reader 1,920 words warnings; smut and fluff<3 summary; nothing about your life feels real anymore. but it's all real. the wedding, the hotel room, the bed, the sex, bradley-- they're all real. everything feels straight from the movies, the stories, the songs.

 “Mornin’, Mrs. Bradshaw.”

 She was awoken by Bradley’s full weight on top of her, his lips peppering soft kisses all over her face, his mustache prickling her skin. She groaned, sleepiness weighing heavy on her eyelids as she pawed at his face with her palms, trying to push him away. 

 “Bradley,” she groaned, unable to stifle her laugh when he playfully nibbled on her cheek. “It’s so early!” She whined, squinting her eyes at the window as the morning sun cracked like an egg yolk to spill into the hotel room. Bradley rolled his eyes at this, “it’s only like…” he paused to lean over to the nightstand on his side of the bed, tapping his phone screen repeatedly until it finally lit up, “…seven in the morning.”

 She groaned and threw her head back into the pillow as Bradley caressed the side of her neck with one hand, tangling his fingers of the other in her hair. She pressed her lips together in a scowl as he kissed down her face, giving her jaw playful nibbles. 

 “Couldn’t even sleep in the morning after my wedding,” she grumbled, Bradley’s smile a crescent against her flesh. 

 “Sorry baby, you signed up for this the moment I put a ring on it,” he chuckled, nuzzling the bridge of his nose against her chin. “I dreamt about you last night though,” he murmured against the underside of her jaw as his kisses trailed down to her neck, her body quaking with each sloppy kiss he pressed into her skin. “Is that right?” She asked, her voice riddled with sleep. “Mhmm,” he hummed against her collarbone, pinching her flesh between his teeth. She emitted a quiet whimper at this, her back arching off of the mattress so that her chest heaved into his. “Dreamt about us like, sixty years in the future when we’re all old and gray and have a bunch of grandchildren crawling around under our feet.”

 She raised an eyebrow at this and peeled an eyelid open, peering down at him as he littered kisses across her throat to the other side of her neck. “Jesus, Bradley, we literally got married yesterday and you’re already thinking that far ahead?” She couldn’t help but chuckle at this, releasing a soft moan when he gently bit down into her skin, leaving a small, dark mark just above her collarbone. 

 “Can’t help it,” he murmured, his kisses trailing back up her neck to her chin and all the way back to her lips, his mustache tickling just below her nose. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you,” he whispered against her lips before they were on hers, taking her breath away with a slow, passionate kiss that made her toes curl and heart pound against her chest. 

 She moaned into his mouth when he shifted his hips, suddenly aware of how naked they were beneath the covers. Once again, his kisses trailed down her chin to her neck, moving his body down the bed as his lips worked at the skin just above her breasts, his palms soothing over her waist and to her hips. She squeezed her eyelids closed as his kisses ventured lower until they reached her breasts, whimpering when he gathered one of her erect nipples in his mouth. 

 “Bradley,” she mewled when he let go of her breast with a wet pop, gazing up at her through hooded lids as he kissed his way to the other, giving her peaked bud a few featherlight, teasing kisses. “Quit teasing,” she whimpered, a pout tugging at her bottom lip as her fingers wove through his short brown hair, giving his roots a pull. 

 His smile curved around her breast and he pulled away from her chest altogether, pushing up onto the palms of his hands to hover just above her face, his breath a warm fan over her skin. “But you’re just so cute,” he whispered, kissing just below her eye. “And now you’re all mine.”

 She hissed through her teeth when he ground his hips down into hers, feeling the leaking tip of his cock prod against her clit, her eyelids fluttering closed. “I’ve…” she began, breathless as the head of his erection trailed down her slit, pressing against her entrance. “…fuck,” she muttered. “I’ve always been yours,” she managed to breathe out when he slipped himself inside, the tip just barely pushing in before she was crying out, cradling the back of his neck with one hand, gripping his bicep with the other. 

 “Yeah,” Bradley sighed, burying his face into the crook of her neck as he pushed himself further in until he was fully sheathed inside of her cunt, his head pounding with how tight and warm she was. “But it’s official now. You’re stuck with me forever.”

 She managed to chuckle, biting back a moan when he began to move, wrapping her legs around his waist so that her heels could dig into the small of his back. Bradley’s mustache pricked her skin as his kisses ventured up her neck, over the curve of her chin, all the way to her lips. 

 He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her lips, pressing his elbows into the mattress on either side of her head and cradling her face, brushing back loose strands of hair behind her ears. “Look at me,” he whispered, the pads of his thumbs swiping over her closed eyelids. 

 She whimpered when the head of his cock prodded her cervix, her vision hazy with tears when she let her kids flutter open. Bradley was there to collect the droplets of tears that managed to escape her sockets, and as she blinked the blurriness from her vision, she could make out warm, hickory eyes gazing down at her, consumed with tranquility, lust, love. 

 God, Bradley didn’t even need to say it, just his eyes alone were enough to assure her that he was absolutely in love. With only a mere glance or brief touch upon her skin, he was able to convey a million thoughts, a million words, a million feelings. She felt loved even when they were apart— he was so good at turning the little things into his own love language. 

 So feeling him like this, having him fucking her so deep and having him so close to her was so intense, made her feel like she was drowning in his love. How could she have gotten so lucky? He was like a man straight out from the movies, the stories, the songs. 

 “I love you,” Bradley murmured when their eyes surged into one another’s. “Gonna show you off to the whole world. Do you know what I’m most excited for?”

 She whimpered again, feeling herself clench around him as he continued his slow and steady space inside of her, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I can’t wait to introduce you to everyone as my wife,” he chuckled against the corner of her lips. “Can’t wait to take you to a restaurant, just so I can say ‘yes, I’d like a table for me and my wife here.’” 

 Her chest heaved with a laugh, even through her early morning fucked-out haze, even with Bradley’s cock pressing bruises into her cervix. “You’re silly,” she giggled as he kissed the tip of her nose. “My husband is the silliest.”

 He beamed at the name, “husband. That’s right, I’m your husband,” he murmured against her lips, his hips quickening their pace but still, his cock reached just as deep. She could feel the knot begin to tighten at the pit of her belly and she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, her eyes wet with her approaching orgasm. 

 “Gonna take care of you,” he muttered, dropping his forehead down onto hers, using his elbows against the mattress as leverage to fuck her harder, impossibly deeper. “Gonna take care of my wife.”

 Tears fell in streams down the sides of her face as she clenched, opening and closing her mouth to try and tell him that she was so close. Nothing was coming out, she couldn’t speak. All that could emit were meek little whimpers and incoherent babbles, but Bradley soothed back her hair, pecking her lips. 

 “It’s alright, darlin’. You can let go for me. Come for me, baby.”

 Bradley cooed sweet little nothings against her lips as he pounded her further into the mattress with just a few more toe-curling thrusts, her lips falling agape as her back arched off of the bed, nails etching crescents into his shoulders. She could feel him release his spend inside of her just as she, too, let herself go, muffling her sobs in the curve of his shoulder. Her body quaked from the force of her orgasm, and how lucky she was that Bradley was there to catch her, to lull her back to reality, to ease her down from her high. She came so hard, so lost in pleasure that she almost couldn’t breathe. 

 “Shh, shh. I’ve got you, baby,” Bradley murmured against her lips before enveloping them with his in a kiss, wiggling his arms beneath her to wrap up her body and hold it close to his. She panted and her cheeks were swollen with the sticky remnants of tears, but Bradley was there to kiss every single salty droplet away from her skin. “So beautiful,” he whispered, cradling her head and holding it close to his chest. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

 Her lips curved into a weak smile, her chest heaving as she chased air back into her lungs. “Always take such good care of me,” she murmured into his skin. “I’m the luckiest wife in the world.”

 Bradley beamed down at her, peppering her face with a few playful kisses before forcing his body off of hers, leaning down to press his lips against the crown of her head. “I’m gonna start the shower,” he muttered beside her ear. “Come join me when you’re ready.” 

 He gave her hand a squeeze, their eyes locked on one another as he pulled away, disappearing into the hotel room’s bathroom. She laid there for a few moments, staring up at the ceiling above, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that this wasn’t just a dream. 

 Bradley was real. This hotel room was real. This bed was real. The sex was real. The wedding ring on her left ring finger was real. It was all real. This was her reality now. 

 She turned her head towards her bedside table where a small, brown leather book rested, a pen lying on the top. With as much strength as she could muster, she reached for the book and pulled herself up into a sitting position, letting her back fall against the headboard. From the bathroom, she could hear the sound of rushing water begin to fall as Bradley turned the shower handle, humming a soft tune that vibrated the walls. 

 She peeled open the cover of the book and flipped through the pages until she found an empty one, projecting her thoughts onto the page and transforming them into lyrics, song lyrics. 

 “Hey,” Bradley called from the doorway a few moments later, eyeing between her and the book in her lap. “Are you coming?” He asked with a pout, and she breathed a laugh, nodding as she finished the word she had been writing, slamming the book shut and setting it back on its place on the nightstand. “Yeah.”

a/n; I FINALLY POSTED FOR BRADLEY AGAIN pls this man has literally taken over me, it's shocking i haven't written more for him yet lol anyways this hardly had any plot but i still hope you all enjoyed<3

TAGLIST;

@oliviajdjarin 🤍💞🤍💗🤍✨

HAPPY 8TH ANNIVERSARY SEVENTEEN! 🌈 26.05.15 — ∞ #팀세븐틴_보고올랐지_8주년까지 #SEVENTEEN_To_8finity 

would you perhaps be able to do “please talk to me” from the angst list with bradley?🥺👉🏻👈🏻

when Rooster wakes up, he doesn't get even one moment of normalcy. usually when he wakes up beside your sprawled figure, he peppers your shoulders with lazy kisses. then slink out of bed, brushes his teeth, slips into his tennis shoes, and goes for a run down the shoreline. sometimes he even watches the sunrise there, panting, taking an earbud out to hear the gulls caw. sometimes he'll even grab smoothies for the both of you on his way home, and hop in the shower as you finally woke up, lips wrapped half-heartedly around a neon straw.

but you're not in bed when his eyes flicker open for the first time today. your side of the bed is crumpled, cold. you've been out of bed for a while.

the morning light is gray--not an early morning gray, but an endless slate. one that means rain, probably.

he glances at the clock, head muddled from his deep sleep, and sees that it's almost 11am. he sits up, brows furrowed, and feels that hollowness grow inside of him immediately. it's like a jolt--something that infects wholly and completely immediately.

oh. his body is reminding him.

today is November 7th.

how could he forget?

instead of jumping out of bed like he usually does, which is a habit he vaguely remembers his father having, he allows his shoulders to slump and his chest deflate. he sinks back into the covers, feels his eyes grow heavy, and pulls the blankets up beneath his chin.

there are two days of the year that Bradley lets himself stay in bed all day: July 29th and today. the anniversary of both of his parents deaths.

you're trying to balance this goddamn tray of food as you walk up the stairs in your monkey slippers, cursing yourself for settling so many beverages on here. does Bradley really need three choices?

whatever, you think. he'll have his pick of the litter at least.

the bedroom door is cracked just enough for you to carefully back your elbow into--just enough for you to step into the room in near-silence except for the shivering glass on the metal tray in your hands.

honestly, you're expecting Bradley to be asleep still. he slept in on that hot day in July, didn't say much at all, just pressed his face against your belly and let M*A*S*H reruns play all day. after, you'd felt guilty; you hadn't done much to make him feel better, stupefied from being this close to such palpable grief. your only prerogative was being there for him, which is how you ended up staying beneath the sheets despite the heat.

but you find Rooster's knit brows and glossy eyes immediately. in your spot in the doorway, you freeze, then grin.

"well, good morning, merry sunshine!" you say softly. "how'd you sleep?"

Bradley's just staring at you, eyes moving from the tray and back up to your wanton gaze as he slowly begins to sit up against the headboard.

"fine," he tells you.

"thought you'd still be asleep," you tell him, shuffling to the bedside carefully. "hope I didn't leave you waiting too long! and I hope you're hungry, 'cause I made a little bit of everything."

Rooster, stunned, just watches you with his hands in his lap. you're wearing his class t-shirt from high school and an old pair of cotton underwear, your eyes bleary and your hair untouched. but all the same, you're grinning at him, nodding for him to move his hands from his lap.

"for your drink selection, we've got coffee, orange juice, and a strawnana smoothie--if you're feeling frisky. for our meats we've got turkey bacon, Impossible Sausage, regular bacon, and--well, are eggs meat? no, right? okay, moving on," you say, shrugging as you point to all the foods as you list. "then we've got scrambled eggs--lots of cheddar cheese and no sage this time, okay? I won't do that ever again, baby, I promise!" you press a lewd and sweet kiss to his forehead before continuing. "and then we've got two pieces of French toast with maple syrup--like that healthy kind you like, the one that gets, like, milked from the trees or whatever. we've also got a short stack of buttermilk pancakes with the sprinkles I know you like but you won't admit it, so we'll say that I like sprinkles in my pancakes! and then the usual suspects--grapefruit, cinnamon oatmeal, sliced apples, grits. pick your poison!"

and that is when Bradley suddenly lets his head tip forward, tears spurring from his eyes suddenly as if a spice had been broken.

oh fuck. this isn't what you meant to happen.

"baby?" you ask tentatively, holding the back of his head with a frown planted on your lips. "I was just kidding about the sprinkles."

with his face angled down, he can see those stupid monkey slippers on your feet. he can see the eggs you made just right, leaving out the sage you sometimes like to sneak in. he can see the different beverages and the rainbow sprinkles. he can even see the sly nibble you took out of his French toast.

he is totally and completely overwhelmed--but it isn't by grief right now. it's love. love and affection and honey and everything else in the world that is sweet and perfect.

"talk to me, baby," you whisper, shuffling to move the tray from his lap and sitting on the bed. he immediately lets his face fall on your shoulder, choking on his sobs. "please."

November 7th was the worst day of his life--one of them, at least. it was when his mother let go, moved on, left him behind. he remembers how peaceful it was when she was gone: all the monitors turned off, the IV drips empty, her face slacked and serene. and he remembers being so angry about it all--why did she have to go to be okay again?

but now it's November 7th and he's eating breakfast in bed and you're in your monkey slippers and those old panties and stroking his hair. he feels entirely swollen with it--love.

"I love you so much," he tells you, unable to put it any differently. "and I really do like sprinkles in my pancakes."

the knot in your throat dissipates at his words. you never push him to talk about his grief--only nurture it when he trusts you enough to speak on it.

so, you kiss his head a few times, hold him against you.

"that was really brave of you to admit," you tell him, a smile tugging at your lips.

he laughs through his tears, sniffling, tracing your spine with his fingers delicately.

"I know," he sniffles. not so subtly, he wipes his nose on your tee. you don't mind it one bit. "you're my best friend."

"me?" you whisper, voice thin with emotion. but you know that you can't start crying, too. so, you clear your throat. "you must be a real loser then."

he laughs weakly, inhaling all that sleep on your skin.

"yeah," he agrees. "I must."

the temptation to re-read all of @roosterforme’s rooster fics tonight with a bottle of wine is so strong