Your Rising Sign ✨. The Male Gaze 👀. & Female Character Movie/TV Tropes 📺.
Are you the manic pixie dream girl or the femme fatale?!
Astro Observations 🪐
Using Movies & TV shows, I’ll be talking about observations I’ve made about rising signs! This is just my opinion! You are more than welcome to share your thoughts in the comment section!
(If you know your sidereal Rising Sign Naksaktra EVEN BETTER!)
BARE WITH ME HERE!!! This post is written in a VERY generalized way. I am not trying to be exclusionary at all! I want this to be a fun post about movies & astrology. Please be creative with your pronouns if needed! This post is for anyone who wants to read it, no matter your gender or preference, but it will be written in traditional cis-gender fashion, BUT!!!!! I have tried to incorporate all female identifying communities within the examples! I hope there is something for everyone :)
Before we begin:
✨What is the Male Gaze?
“In feminist theory, the male gaze is the act of depicting women and the world, in the visual arts and in literature, from a masculine, heterosexual perspective that presents and represents women as sexual objects for the pleasure of the heterosexual male viewer. In the visual and aesthetic presentations of narrative cinema, the male gaze has three perspectives: (i) that of the man behind the camera, (ii) that of the male characters within the film's cinematic representations; and (iii) that of the spectator gazing at the image.” — Wikipedia
✨What is a Character trope?
“A trope is an idea, pattern or motif that appears often enough in a particular art form that consumers of that art form begin to form particular associations with that idea.” - The Novel Factory
Men tend to be VERY simple creatures. Yes, they may present themselves as the broody artist w a checkered past or a sci-fi-nerdy-glasses-wearing-type fellow who LOVES Star Wars & Comic-Con. But believe it not, both these men have something in common…Their simplicity. Most men see life in black & white. They tend to take things at face value & rarely feel the need to dig deeper into something unless they are called to. This is not to over generalize (or perhaps that’s exactly what this is) but to draw attention to the straight forward attitude men usually have towards life. (I blame this on their primal hunter/gathering nature, but that’s another topic for another day). Men tend to prefer life & communication to be clear & concise, whereas woman tend to be far more “colorful” in our approach. We don’t spare any details when talking w our girlfriends about the latest gossip as if it’s our life’s duty, where men can sit in silence, playing video games & be perfectly content. In fact, I learned in sociology, that men can actually have ZERO brain activity happening at times (besides the automatic stuff, like breathing lol). Meaning— men can actually sit & think about nothing. Women, not so much, we are constantly stimulated, thinking & planning ahead. Because of this cosmically cerebral mis-match, the way men & woman tend to view each other can be a point of contention. Woman tend to over complicate men & men tend to over simplify woman. Thus giving us the ongoing battle of real complex female characters VS. the over simplified version of them through the Male Gaze. Do men think woman just sit around playing in make-up & fashion, bursting out into random tears & having pillow fights all day? If you ask Hollywood— probably. In this post, we will be specifically looking at how men over simplify woman using Movie/TV tropes & comparing them to the display of our rising sign, &/or if you know it, your rising Nakshatra.
You should know, that before I got into tarot & astrology, I graduated from the film school at New York University. So I am WELL AWARE of the film/tv writing process & thought this would be a cool way to combine my education of films & my love for astrology to teach & critique how woman tend to be represented in Cinema & Television— and in return, real life. (Art meets Life, amiright?)
There has been a discourse in the film & tv world about how woman are represented through the male gaze. I’m sure you’ve heard of the “manic pixie dream girl” trope over saturating the market right now. (Don’t worry, we will get into this later). Woman feel as if these are shallow representations of the feminine experience. While I agree with this statement, usually we don’t see very fleshed out, complex & interesting woman from male writers. (*cough cough* Euphoria Season 2.) I’m arguing here that until we form deep & intimate connections with men, they tend to see us, woman, as these movie tropes, IRL (in real life). If you don’t understand what I’m saying, hang in there w me.
Because men tend to be simple & take things at face value, they can miss out on the nuances of the woman they are with. How many times have we seen in movies a wife gets a haircut & the husband doesn’t notice? See, no eye for detail, or subtlety. Those small details that make us unique from other woman tends to go over their heads from time to time. And in a day in age where woman are generalized more on a mass scale through social media, it’s easy for men to get carried away thinking woman are all the same or simply, just not that complicated. This isn’t a bad thing, per say, this is just the default until we are able to build a lasting, deep connection between masculine & feminine energy.
In this post, we are going to be breaking down this “conundrum” by RISING SIGNS/1H/Nakshatras. Why? Because the rising sign is how you are seen in the world. The first house rules the body, & what people project on to you as well as what you project onto other people. (The beauty of the 1H/7H axis…more about this later) As a sidereal astrology girly, I think the first house/Rising Sign Nakshatra rules the personality more so than the sun & moon sign. After all, it is called “person”-ality, & the 1H is the house of person, whereas the 7H is the house of partner.
✨Why Does this Matter?
Well first off, it matters how much you want it to matter. This post is for inspiring self expression. By seeing how you effortlessly come across through the male gaze, you may be able to craft your own unique persona or perfect one of these tropes. I am not writing this post because you have to see yourself the way men see you or over simplify yourself while getting to know someone, I’m writing this to give you some indication of HOW men see you so you can put on a SHOW! I’m hoping this gives you the encouragement to take your narrative into your own hands & present your femininity in a way that’s true & authentic to you. I am an absolute FAN of these female tropes. Movies & tv shows have helped me curate the kind of woman I want to come across as. Nothing like seeing a great character on TV that you want to emulate. We all have the ability to play pretend. Look at using the male gaze as a game of dress-up. You can ALWAYS play the part in the ever going Hollywood Film— Your Life.
✨What is the First House?
The first house is the house of first impressions— the cover of the book men are judging.
Because your first house is home to your rising sign, to put it simply, the first house is how you come off to others at first glance. Even though I’m sure you’re a beautiful, complex & intriguing creature, for the sake of this article, we are looking at the first house through a “shallow” perspective. You may feel as if these descriptions don’t fit you at all, in fact, you may feel like this is the total opposite of who you actually are! (Blame the contradiction of 1H/7H axis for this one) However it’s not about how you feel, it’s about how you come across…
Read this article as if you are your crush meeting you for the first time. (Read that again, very meta, I know). The Male Gaze in movies/tv has been argued to be lazy & uninspired writing. I personally think that’s just the male gaze in general. I kid, I kid. Lol. But seriously…they are very simple minded, so we can use this to our advantage to give some of the best performances of our lives!
***If you are reading for your Sidereal Vedic Rising (which is HIGHLY suggest), please look up the degree, so you can read for the specific Nakshatra)
(If you are a man reading this, I don’t mean to drag you. We all know the childhood fact, Men are from Mars & Woman are from Venus. Lol.)
Through the Male Gaze, we will be breaking down how you come off through your rising sign & placements as Classic Movie & TV Character Tropes.
How to Read:
✨IF YOU KNOW YOUR SIDEREAL VEDIC RISING NAKSHATRA: Read that first! That will be the most specific to the trope. (I didn’t double dip, each nakshatra is only used ONCE)
✨If you DON’T know your Sidereal Rising Nakshatra & your reading as a Western/Tropical Girlie———>
✨You can read for the sign in your first house (your rising sign) &/or planets placed in your FIRST OR SEVENTH HOUSE!
✨7H placements cast a direct aspect on your 1H, so if your rising sign doesn’t resonate, check your 7H placements! They have a major influence as well!
✨If you have multiple planets in your 1H &/or 7H, the planet with the LOWEST degree is the dominant planet. Ex: If you have Saturn at 26 degrees and Venus at 2 degrees, you would read the Venus tropes.
✨Unlike men, I’m giving you some flexibility (Lol) Your placements may overlap. For example, if you’re a Pisces Rising— read the blurbs for Manic Pixie Dream Girl & Girl Next Door. One description will probably fit better than the others, but you got options! If you know your sidereal chart for your rising Nakshatra, you’ll get
***There is NO direct correlation between the signs & Naks picked, this is a matter of opinion, so I put what I felt worked!***
Please please please keep in mind, movies & tv characters are larger than life, so please have fun with this post!!! This is over the top!! If you can imagine that you were an old Hollywood glamour queen or a modern cinema starlit, this would be your starring role!!!
⚠️ I do not want to offend ANYONE by using traditional gender pronouns. I am a cis-gender heterosexual female, so I am writing from the perspective I know best. I am NOT trying to say this is the only perspective that matters. I have included cis-woman, trans women & lesbians as examples in this post. Please feel free to share any insights you have, no matter the gender, non-gender or perspective! I’m truly open & supportive. This is not an exclusionary post.
⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!!!! I am using Movies & Television shows as examples, so be prepared!
⚠️ Of course, special shout-out to my little sister! Without her, none of this would be possible!!
On with the Show! 🌹
💋 Manic Pixie Dream Girl
Nakshatras: Ardra, Punarvasu, Swati, Vishika, Mula
Zodiac: Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces (All Mutable Rising Signs) & Aquarius
Planets: Neptune, Mercury, Jupiter (1st or 7th House, lowest degree)
Tarot Card: Princess of Cups (Earth & Water)
“[The Manic Pixie Dream Girl] exists solely in the fevered imaginations of sensitive writer-directors to teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and its infinite mysteries and adventures… [The MPDG] seems to exist only to provide spiritual or mystical help to the protagonist. The MPDG has no discernible inner life. Instead, her central purpose is to provide the protagonist with important life lessons. “
-Wikipedia (Manic Pixie Dream Girl was coined by Nathan Rabin)
✨The Manic Pixie Dream Girl is arguably THEE female movie trope of the last 40 years in pop culture. As movies moved away from the Bombshell aesthetic of the 1950’s, most notably, Marilyn Monroe; Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s introduced a new kind of woman. (Even her last name, go-lighly is a play on her attitude towards the world) A woman who throws caution to the wind & isn’t afraid to take risk. In fact, this woman LIVES to take risk! She flutters in & flutters out of the Male gaze, usually chasing some wild dream of being a fashion designer, writer, actress ect, OR is a notch above (or under, depending on how you look at it) an aimless sexy hobo. Regardless of her career ambitions, she’s always as creative as she is elusive— yet somehow, is always able to drop into the male’s life right in the knick of time, whisking the male away on some fever-dream like adventures. Encountering the Manic Pixie Dream Girl almost ALWAYS accompanies a spiritual Awakening for our male protagonist. Upon meeting this woman, usually in some weird, “only happens once in a life-time” way, his world gets thrown into a chaotic flurry. Everything he thought he knew he now knows he never knew anything about it at all. He questions life, he questions reason, he question society, capitalism, the “American Dream”, etc. This is BEST demonstrated by Marla (Helena Bonham Carter) in Fight Club, directed by David Fincher. (If you haven’t seen this movie, you MUST (18+), Brad Pitt is at PEAK sexiness…s/o to the Female Gaze lol) Fight Club is a wicked tale of a man fighting himself, society & his own psyche after meeting a woman who mirrored him so closely, it triggered a masculinity awakening. This is the function of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. She is so free, so unbound, so fluid, & feminine, she helps to bring to life the masculine side of a man by reflecting his own inner chaos back to him.
As a Ardra, Punarvasu, Swati, Vishika, Mula Rising or Mutable Rising Sign: Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, or Pisces, this could be one of the ways you appear through the male gaze. Because your temperament & view of life can be so changeable, you can come across as a free-spirit, a loss soul, or a wonderer. Perhaps you are, & perhaps you aren’t, but as quickly as you change a hairstyle, you change your goals in life. The male feels as if he needs to tame you, give you structure, security or direction OR he feels like he wants to join you! Break away from the daily grind of life, break societies expectations of him & rendezvous w you, eating cereal, painting & watching cartoons all day. You can represent a child-like wonder and be the embodiment of the “wild-side” of life! As the mutable rising signs of the Zodiac, you tend to be moody & unpredictable. Through the Male Gaze, men may find it hard to connect with you because you always seem “elsewhere”. You always seem a little dazed, perhaps a little confused, but certainly “pixie” like in your approach to life. To the right male, you are fascinating, like a Jackson Pollock painting (the splatter paint dude) in the works— each stroke improvised, never knowing where the paint is going to land, but intrigued more by your process than the final product.
Female Gaze: Like a Bird- Nelly Furtado
Male Gaze: Sex And Candy- Marcy Playground
Holly Golightly- Breakfast at Tiffany’s
Summer- 500 Days of summer
Robyn Brooks- High Fidelity
Helena- Fight Club
Raven- That’s So Raven
Bubbles- Powerpuff Girls
Emily- Emily in Paris
Sally Bowles- Cabaret
Nakshatras: Jyestha, Dhanishta, Uttara Bhadrapada
Zodiacs: Aquarius, Libra, Cancer, Scorpio
Planets: Saturn, Uranus, Moon, Venus
Tarot Card: Queen of Swords (Water & Air)
“…Cool, reserved, and giving nothing away. She may want love as ardently as anyone, but she masks her soft heart behind a wall of ice. It is up to someone else, typically her Love Interest, to soften her cold demeanor and win her love.
The Ice Queen is considered dangerous to love because she will not (or cannot) love back. She's not much for friendship either, preferring to be alone.” tvtropes .org
✨The Ice Queen is cold & unforgiving. She IS the resting bitch face personified, unimpressed & unfazed by those around her. Seemingly aloof, the male in the story is always trying to breakthrough her tough and unbothered exterior. Her coldness posses a real challenge to anyone who is interested in her romantically. She’s just a bitch. And a bad one at that! The Ice Queen is stern in her appearance & her approach to life. Usually divorced, or widowed, but doesn’t have to be, she walks as if she carries the weight on the world of her shoulder. She’s been abandoned by happiness in life, but she’s so regal, no one knows how deep her scars cut. She can resemble the Boss Bitch/Diva trope, because she normally holds a lot of power, but she carries a certain detachedness that is unique to this trope. She is NOTHING nice. The Ice Queen is hard to please & has no issues letting people know she’s unsatisfied. The Male wants to “warm her up”, breakthrough her cold exterior & get to know why she is so damn mean! In some cases he succeeds, in others he realized she’s just a mean & shallow as he originally thought. Elvira Hancock in Scarface is the prototype for this feminine character trope. Not only is her nose typically buried nose deep in snow (if you get it, you get it), she’s. a. straight. cold-hearted. biotch. She’s unbelievably gorgeous & unapproachable, & this is exactly what draws the male protagonist in to her. But even after the male “wins her over”, she was never satisfied. An Ice Queen to her CORE, she was never one to be defrosted. Defamed? Maybe…Defrosted…never.
It’s worth noting that the Ice Queen is usually HIGHLY fashionable. Not the cheap stuff either— the Ice Queen is a Queen none the less. She’s not the T-shirt & jeans girl next door, or the purple hairdo manic pixie…she’s class & sophistication. First rule, you gotta be hot to be so cold.
If you are a Jyestha, Dhanishta, Uttara Bhadrapada Rising or an Aquarius, Libra or Cancer Rising, or have Saturn, Uranus, the Moon, or Venus aspecting your first house, you may find that you come across as the Ice Queen through the male gaze. You carry a certain reserved & detached aura upon first meeting someone. Rarely would you put all your cards on the table. There is also a certain maturity that you carry with you when you walk into a room. Men will assume “oh, this girl, she’s been through some stuff”. You may find that you are somewhat withdrawn in social situations, although people may be very drawn to you. You don’t necessarily care about being liked, but you certainly care about being respected. You come off as if you don’t tolerate any kind of messiness. Men may think you play hard to get or that you just think you’re better than the average. Whatever! You don’t care what they think. You’re too busy reading or being an intellectual (whatever that means lol…this is the male gaze we are talking about). Again, to the right egotistical man who believes he can “warm you up”, you are a welcomed and ongoing challenge. The Ice Queen is the female trope of male dissatisfaction. When a Male encounters the Ice Queen in cinema, she tend to represent a part of the male that will NEVER be pleased, content or accepted. Normally the man after this cold woman’s stone-cold heart is trying to prove his worth to the world around him, & the Ice Queen serves as the perfect trophy. If he can impress her/have her, he can impress anyone & have the World! The Ice Queen is the ultimate prize for the male protagonist w ego/self-esteem issues. Nothing humbles a man quite like a cold-hearted bitch. You may find in your dating life, Male’s feel the need to impress you for no good reason..or maybe you enjoy watching men walk on their heads for a date w you! Either way, as the Ice Queen female trope you carry a certain air about you that commands attention & respect. You carry authority over yourself & those around you. The male gaze says although your intimidating, your worth a try to shut down all the haters, even if you’re hater number 1!
Female Gaze: Needed Me- Rihanna
Male Gaze: Roses- OutKast, Cooler than Me- Mike Posner
Camille- The Sapranos
Lady Mae Greenleaf- Greenleaf
Elekta Evangelista- Pose
Claire- House of Cards
Lucille- Arrested Development
Betty Draper- Mad Men
Mother Shannon, House of Balenciaga- Legendary
Cersei Lannister- Game of Thrones
Dominique La Rue- Harlem Nights
Gru’s Mom- Despicable Me
Nakshatras: Ashwini, Bharani, Ashlesha, Purva Bhadrapada
Zodiacs: Aries, Scorpio, Cancer
Planets: Mars, Pluto
Tarot Card: Queen of Wands (Fire & Water)
“A femme fatale,sometimes called a maneater or vamp, is a stock character of a mysterious, beautiful, and seductive woman whose charms ensnare her lovers, often leading them into compromising, deadly traps. She is an archetype of literature and art. Her ability to enchant, entice and hypnotize her victim with a spell was in the earliest stories seen as verging on supernatural; hence, the femme fatale today is still often described as having a power akin to an enchantress, seductress, witch, having power over men. Femmes fatales are typically villainous, or at least morally ambiguous, and always associated with a sense of mystification, and unease.”
✨The Femme Fatale is arguably the most ICONIC of the female movie tropes. A popular trope of Film Noir “movement” in the late 1940s, early 1950s, the Femme Fatale is a sexual seductress with a naughty side. Enchanting as she is dangerous, the male gaze ogles her, even though it may cost him his life— or at least his job & social standing. Medusa is one of the best representations of this trope. If a man locks eyes w her, he’s as good as dead— yet, time & time again, men tried to defeat her, only to meet a tragic end. As time progressed, the story of the woman who turns men to stone (definitely a sexual innuendo if you ask me) found new life in television & film. The Femme Fatale is a beautiful disaster just waiting to happen. She’s wild, like the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but she has a certain knack for danger and crime. She lures the male in & traps him like a spider in her web. The male is usually a little weary of the woman, but is overcome w her grace & charm, or he’s truly an unsuspecting victim who gets completely taken advantage of an entangled in whatever mess she’s made for herself. One way or the other, the male often ends up in a position of life & death after lusting after this dark & intriguing beauty. The film, Carmen Jones, starring Dorthy Dandridge, is a classic tale of a woman w loose morals who ends up (spoiler alert) dead. Unlike most of the other female tropes, the femme fatale almost always suffers consequences for her actions. She either ends up in jail, or dead, or kills her lover, or he ends up in jail, or her lover ends up dead. Tragic, I know. Again, think of Medusa…she killed everything she laid her eye on, & then ultimately had to be killed. (RIP Medusa, you were a baddie). No one gets out scotch free when dealing w this character. The femme fatale is mysterious, almost like a mythical creature or an enchantress, & the male is instantly drawn into her, whether they exchange words in a bar, or she simply flicks her cigarette & he rushes to relight it. One thing is for sure, she lives by her own rules & is bound by nothing…not the law or death itself. She’s usually a criminal minded free-spirit, manipulating her way through life to survive.
If you are an Ashwini, Bharani, Ashlesha, Purva Bhadrapada Rising Or an Aries, Scorpio, or Cancer Rising, or you have Pluto or Mars aspecting your 1H, you may come off as the femme fatale through the male gaze. Your dark, broody & secretive nature is fascinating to them, and they want to join you on a passionate journey through time & space or save you from whatever sticky situation you may have put yourself in. They want to play detective & you are the perfect case to crack. When the femme fatale enters the male’s life, she instantly posses a threat to his usually naive understanding of the world. She’s not your typical housewife— far from it. She challenges the traditional social construct of beauty & submission. Normally from a troubled/difficult past past, the femme fatale will only submit to law & death, she’s been forced to learn the ugly sides of life & uses them to her advantage. You may find that male’s tend to want to dominate you or control your direction in life in relationships, but you are REPULSED by this notion. This trope teaches men (and woman sadly), that freedom comes w a cost. Hopefully it’s not your life, but if it is, you sure make a sexy corpse!
Female Gaze: Wild side- Normani
Male Gaze: Dirty Diana -Michael Jackson
Filomena (Sophia Lauren)- Marriage Italian Style
Cat Woman- Batman
Carmen- Carmen Jones
Dr. Frank-N-Furter (played by the wonderful Lavern Cox)- The Rocky Horror Picture Show
Jennifer- Jennifer’s Body
Gilda (Rita Hayworth)- Gilda
Amy Dunne- Gone Girl
Laura Biel- 365 Days
Alex Vause- Orange Is the New Black
💋Queen Bee/Mean Girl
Nakshatras: Krittika, Purva Phalguni, Chitra, Purva Ashadha
Zodiacs: Libra, Capricorn, Aries, Leo, Taurus & Gemini
Planets: Venus, Mars, Sun, Mercury
Tarot Card: Princess of Swords (Earth & Fire)
“The Mean Girl trope had us all believe that the dark side to womanhood is catty, conniving competitiveness.”
“Mean girls are often overly concerned with appearance. They may place a high priority on their clothing, their make-up, and even their weight. Likewise, they may zero in on these things in others, pointing out everything from acne and weight gain to clothing choices and hairstyles.”
✨Somewhere between The Ice Queen and The Diva, there lies a sweet sour sweet CLASSIC female trope that always leaves the girls GAGGING in disbelief, like “did she just say that?!!” The Queen Bee/Mean Girl trope has her fair share of representation in film & TV, particularly in teen dramas, but she is NOT limited to high school. The Queen Bee is in charge, she knows what she wants, she knows how she likes it & she has ZERO problem letting her loyal subject know. Sometimes, she is portrayed w a deep deep deep DEEP down heart of hold, but most of the time, she’s just a straight biotch from beginning to end. You DON’T want to cross her, or you just might end-up on her ever growing hit-list. If there is one thing Ms. Mean Girl can do..it’s hold a grudge. As stated above, the Queen Bee/Mean girl trope serves the stereotype of the cattiness & competitiveness of femininity. And it is a fact that in the wild, the female animals are usually far more aggressive than their male counterparts. (Think Lion, or a Mama Bear). Boys may have their sports, but lady’s have their looks & they will secure that W come hell or high water all the way to Prom Queen.
If you are a Krittika, Purva Phalguni, Chitra, Purva Ashadha Rising or Libra, Taurus, Aries, Leo or Gemini Rising, OR if you have Venus, Mars or the Sun aspecting your 1H/7H, you may come off as the typical Mean Girl Trope through the Male Gaze. You’re aloof, yet decisive about the things you truly care about— like— “Wednesdays, we wear pink”. You keep people on the tip of their toes with witty banter & effortless conversation. If they don’t know the latest trends, the current celebrity gossip or who dumped whom…well, you’re just not interested in what they have to say, so why bother? You can play the villain easily & have no problem being unliked as long as you are respected. You are a social butterfly, a socialite, if you will. You know how to make the streets talk with admiration & envy. People may be afraid that they can’t meet your standards, but good, they probably can’t. NO UGLY FRIENDS is the motto— people may think you actually hold try-outs for who is allowed to sit with you at the table. Through it all, you know how to take control & lead— this energy oozes from you as people seem to just step aside as you sashay down the halls. Always up on the latest fashion, you always come w your A-game and your enemies will NEVER catch you slipping. There is a beautiful confidence that you exude because you know you are the one and only. People may be extremely intimidated by you, but the real ones will bow at your feet.
The shadow side of this trope is the shadiness. Queen Bees/Mean girls are known for being just that—MEAN. People may assume that you are quite backstabby & mischievous. YOU, of all the movie tropes, don’t mind playing
d-i-r-t-y! People perceive you as never wanting to let go of that crown & you’ll do whatever it takes to keep the social order in tact. Think “Status-Quo” High School Musical w Sharpay, the ULTIMATE representation of this trope, screaming from the top of the cafeteria! (THIS IS NOT WHAT SHE WANTS! THIS IS NOT WHAT SHE PLANNED!!!!!) She didn’t care who she had to cut, scheme, lie, trick, plot & sabotage to make SURE Ms. Gabriella did not get the spotlight w her man, Troy. Think of the lengths you’ll go to to get what you want. You come off as spicy, cunt-y (in the best way), & beautiful. You are a glamour girl & never afraid to throw some shade here & there, making you the ultimate reigning Queen Bee!
Female Gaze: Feeling Myself- Nicki Minaj
Male Gaze: Mad at myself- Issues
Regina George- Mean Girls
CoCo- Dear White People
Emma Roberts in Coven & Scream Queens
Blair- Gossip Girl
Cheryl Blossom- Riverdale
Santana- Glee (Rest in Peace)
Buttercup- Powerpuff Girls
Alison DiLaurentis- Pretty Little Liars
Sharpay- High School Musical
Penelope- My Dog (LOVE HER, but she’s such a Bitch—a bad one though lol)
💋Ingenue/Damsel in Distress
Nakshatras: Mrigashirsa, Rohini, Hasta, Revati
Zodiacs: Cancer, Capricorn, Libra, Aries (All Cardinal Rising Signs) & Pisces, Taurus
Planets: Moon, Venus, Saturn
Tarot Card: Queen of Cups (Water) Libra, Aries
“The ingénue usually has the fawn-eyed innocence of a child but subtle sexual appeal as well.”
“The damsel in distress is a recurring narrative device (or trope) in which one or more men must rescue a woman who has either been kidnapped or placed in general peril. Kinship, love, or lust (or a combination of those) gives the male protagonist the motivation or compulsion to initiate the narrative. The female character herself may be competent, but still finds herself in this type of situation.”
✨The Ingenue/Damsel in Distress is one of the most recognizable female movie tropes to date. From the tales of The Greeks, to King-Kong, to Broomhilda from Djengo— there is always some damsel…somewhere…that is…in fact…in…distress. The Ingenue is a naive babe, just learning the ins & outs of life. She’s pretty, she’s unassuming & adorably doe-eyed, full of wonder for the life ahead of her— just waiting for a strong man to show her the way! The ingenue is common, but in the best way. She’s not an ice-cold bitch like the Ice Queen or the Queen Bee, but she sits more in her femininity that the Tomboy or the Diva. She’s divine & subtle and a man is always lurking around the corner, waiting to whisk her away from all the evils in the world. If this sounds like a Disney Princess, it’s because it is. Most Disney Princesses would fit into the Ingenue/Damsel in Distress character trope, but just like most of the Princesses, no matter how young & impressionable, the Ingenue is usually the one who makes a way for herself in the end.
If you are a Mrigashirsa, Rohini, Hasta, Revati Rising or a Cardinal rising (Aries, Cancer, Libra Capricorn) or Pisces, the male gaze may perceive you as the Ingenue/Damsel in Distress trope. Your beauty & grace exceed you, & your youth is ever-present. When the male sees you, they just want to protect you & hold you dear. You spark masculinity in those who are attracted to you because you come across so soft & gentle. But don’t get it twisted, you can be a little spicy! You certainly have a little sass to you, but you try not to wear it on your sleeve. You are a true darling to those who are deserving. You serve ultimate demure womanliness & you seem to glide through any room you’re in. Although your impulsiveness & naiveté may land you in some sticky situations, there’s always a lovely leading man just beyond the pines to lead you out of the darkness and into their arms (Awwwwwwwwwww). You may be the type to need help opening the pickle jar, or clumsily fall into some big strong arms— you don’t mind being on the receiving end of affection & people just swoon over you. Unlike the Door Next Door, there can still be an “unapproachability” factor to you. You’re not the girl from down the street, you’re the new girl in town; a little lost, a little curious, but always cute! You may find that men tend to underestimate you & you’re constantly trying to prove yourself. OR you can find yourself in situations where your voice tends to be over powered as you get lost in a sea of toxic masculinity! Either way, you know how to leave a room in awe. You carry just enough mystique & intrigue that male’s fight to know more about you, but yet they just feel as if you’re a naturally good person. You’re coy, but not too coy. You’re shy, but not too shy. You are the perfect “woman”. You may have a past, but your future is always bright! A hero waits around the corner for the perfect time to catch you when you fall or introduce you to a world you didn’t know existed.
As the Ingenue/Damsel in Distress, your energy is POWERFUL, almost as if you’re sexily yelling “Fire! Fire! Save me! Help me!” when you walk into the room. You know how to keep the male gaze & they will break their necks to see you eloquently walk by. Before the reign of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, you were the trope on top— the beautiful default representation of hyper-femininty in the 20s/30s/40s. You set the standards for the early starlets, they were nothing if they weren’t the lovely ingenue!
Female Gaze: Bring Me to Life- Evanessance, Pretty When I Cry- Lana Del Ray
Male Gaze: Let Me Love You- Mario
Betty Draper- Mad Men
Celie- The Color Purple
Daisy- The Great Gatsby
Persephone- The [Abduction] of Persephone
Angel Evangelista- Pose
Broomhilda- Django Unchained
Piper Chapman- Orange Is the New Black
Penelope- The Odyssey
Satine- Mulan Rouge
💋Girl Next Door/Tomboy
Nakshatras: Anuradha, Uttara Ashadha, Shravana
Planets:Jupiter, Venus, Neptune
Zodiacs: Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces, Taurus, Libra
Tarot Card: Princess of Pentacles (Earth)
“The girl next door is usually from a small town or an un-flashy neighborhood. Her personality tends to be down-to-earth, supportive, and approachable. For both her main boy and her culture at large, the girl next door embodies an idealized, wholesome femininity.”
✨The Girl Next Door/Tomboy Trope is by far the most realistic & relatable female trope of all. She’s not flashy. She’s not mean. She’s kind & sometimes even “one of the guys”. She gives off an innocence that makes her irresistible to the male gaze because she’s just so darn cool. She’s “not like the other girls”. Although she may prefer a comfy t-shirt & jeans, she’s comfortable in her femininity. She doesn’t try to compete with other woman— even though other woman my try & compete with her. Why? Because she’s usually the girl surrounded by all the guys— not because she flaunts her beauty, but rather because she’s not stuck on herself. She challenges the status quo demonstrating that sexy can be fun, sexy can be sweet & sexy can be “normal”. Zendaya is arguably the IT girl of a generation & she usually plays this type of character. She comes across as someone you can sip cool-aid with after she beats you in a round of basketball! For some, that’s sexier than Marilyn Monroe herself! This is the All-American (no matter the race) beauty that only lives a few doors down. This trope is most likely to be in the “friend-zone”, until one day the male realizes…”OH MY GOSH! SHE HAS BOOBS!”
If you are an Anuradha, Uttara Ashadha, Shravana Rising OR a Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces, Taurus, Libra Rising, you could come off as the Girl Next Door/Tomboy female trope. You’re approachable & not stuck on yourself & that makes you highly desirable through the male gaze. You’re simple & non-demanding like some of your other female counterparts and this makes you a breath of fresh air in a Kardashian fueled instagram dystopia. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you know how to clean up nicely! When it’s times for you to put on a skirt & heels, you knock ‘em dead. You’re stunning! But you’d much rather lead with personality than looks. You have an effortlessness about you that can’t be obtained by just anyone. At times you may feel a bit awkward about your sexuality, but again, through the right male’s gaze, this is SUCH a turn on. This is an extremely powerful trope because you are realistic. You may have big dreams, but you feel like you come from humble beginnings. You’re authentic to yourself, not to Chanel & Gucci. Sometimes, you may feel overlooked & one-up’d by the “popular girl”, but there is ALWAYS someone who thinks you are the most beautiful girl in the room because you light up the room like no body else & don’t get me started on the way you flip your hair & how it gets the boys overwhelmed. You don’t know you’re beautiful…and that’s….that’s what makes you so beautiful. How lovely!
If you are the Girl Next Door Trope, you don’t have to worry about putting on a show to impress the boysies around you. Just continue to be you’re cool & down to Earth self. Even though it seems like we live in Shallow Land, where everything is based on superficial looks & flawless instagram selfies, you’re super special because you don’t give in. Don’t conform & don’t rush to be the “it” girl. You don’t need the BBL & the thick lashes. (NOTHING IS WRONG W THIS!!! NOTHING~~~) Your natural beauty is more than enough through the Male Gaze!
Female Gaze: All You Wanted- Michelle branch
Male Gaze: Hey There Delilah- The Plain White Tees
*sorry I couldn’t link it! Ran out of space!
MJ (Zendaya)- Spider-Man
Monica- Love & Basketball
Peggy- Mad Men
Betty Cooper- Riverdale
Blanca Rodriguez- Pose
Apollonia- Purple Reign
Danielle- The Girl Next Door
Nakshatras: Pushya, Magha, Uttara Phalguni
Planets: Sun, Saturn, Mars
Zodiacs: Leo, Scorpio, Taurus, Aquarius (All Fixed Rising Signs) & Sagittarius, Capricorn
Tarot Card: Queen of Pentacles (Earth & Water)
“The strong, dark, beautiful woman. She's often a go-getter, chasing stardom, wealth, or just recognition for her talents. If she becomes an Idol, she's not constrained by the pressures of always appearing youthful, innocent, and approachable.
Part of her allure is instead her maturity, either in personality or in sexuality. When she walks in the room she not only turns heads, but she demands respect and won't hesitate to set you straight if she doesn't get it.”
✨The Diva/Boss Bitch Female trope is THEE BADDEST BITCH. She’s worked hard to get where she is & she isn’t going to let some MAN come along and knock her off her thrown. This female trope demands a certain level of respect when she walks into the room— all heads turn because they know she’s the boss, just waiting to give quick & sharp directions. Usually fashionable, because she can AFFORD it (hello!), she knows how to command in any setting while looks good. A trend setter! She may be one of the most intimidating of the female tropes through the Male Gaze, on par with the Ice Queen, because the Diva carries a certain masculine energy. She usually is running things & bossing men around herself. She doesn’t let her sex get in the way of her ambition & talent. This character trope is not afraid to speak her mind because she knows she has just as much right to a seat at the table as anyone. She’s hard to impress & won’t settle for anything less than perfect. Mediocrity will NOT FLY with the Diva. She expects & she will have the best.
If you are a Pushya, Magha, Uttara Phalguni Rising or a Leo, Scorpio, Taurus, Aquarius, Sagittarius, or Capricorn Rising, you may come off as the Diva/Boss Bitch female character trope. You seem to prioritize work, success & your ambition over friendships & relationships. You force the males who gaze upon you to reevaluate their own status & merit in the world. They know you can’t be easily swayed & have to step to you with their best foot forward. Usually depicted as an insatiable boss, men may feel you’re an insatiable lover— demanding & hard to please…whatever, this doesn’t stop you! You know what you want & if they don’t get it for you, you’ll get it your damn self. You come off as self-assured & somewhat egotistical. You’re proud of your work & you expect to be treated like the BOSS that you are. If someone has a problem with that, well then, they can just get in line! Olivia Pope in Scandal is a great example of this trope in action. First, she has a J.O.B. & she’s DAMN good at it. The best, even. Her sex appeal through the male gaze is due to her wits & her competence. Like you, as soon as she walks into the room, people know it’s business time.
If you are the Diva/Boss Bitch Trope, don’t let ANYONE discredit your hustle—not another woman, not a man…NO ONE! You’ve worked hard to get where you are, and it shows because of the way you carry yourself. You can be one of the classiest tropes of all & that’s more impressive than you could ever know. Your beauty lies in the fact that you are sophistication personified. Your intrigue lies in the fact of your rarity! Not every woman is as ambitious or as capable as you are. You make men shiver when they lay eyes on you because you have an aura that screams “STEP YOUR GAME UP OR GET TO STEPPING!” Never try to dim who you are. You’re bossy & you’re the bitch they all LOVE to hate! Let them! You’d probably hate you too if you weren’t you because you are just too fly to handle! Confidence oozes from your pores because you know your stuff. Although it’s lonely at the top, you enjoy the view of downtown from your corner office! It’s hard to compete where others don’t compare Ms. Diva! Own it!
Female Gaze: Flawless- Beyoncé
Male Gaze: Ms. Independent- Ne-yo
*sorry I couldn’t link it! Ran out of space!
Olivia Pope- Scandal
Blossom- Powerpuff Girls
Miranda Priestly— Devil Wears
Annalise Keeting- How To Get Away With Murder
Sylvie- Emily in Paris
Shug Avery- The Color Purple
Matron “Mama” Morton- Chicago
dawnbringer pt. 5|| bradley “rooster” bradshaw x metcalf!reader (oc!reader)
part 5 (out of ideal 10) → part 1 → part 2 → part 3 → part 4
pairing : bradley "rooster" bradshaw x female oc metcalf!reader
a/n ⋯ part five! i am so so sorry for the wait! i'm currently on vacation, so there will be a delay for some chapters. however, i think this chapter is pretty satisfying. oc belongs to me, and original story had been MODIFIED to fit a new character.
overview ⋯ elizabeth "sunshine" metcalf, granddaughter of mike "viper" metcalf, has been called back to top gun. she's found out that other graduates are returning too, including bradley. her heart is on fire.
warnings ⋯ TOP GUN MAVERICK SPOILERS. SMUT!. oralf!receiving , swearing, praise, spanking (brief) , public teasing. smut, 18+. minors dni.
wc; 9.3k, not proofread!, condo inspo
WARNING: SMUT! 18+ ONLY. minors dni!
Elizabeth was at a loss for words when her eyes met Rooster’s broad figure. It was almost a nightmare incarnate— who had she pissed off for this to happen? In what world would this be okay? All Elizabeth had wanted tonight was to watch a movie with Natasha. Not the entire squadron.
Rooster’s soft words, those devilish remarks— darlin’— he’d always called her that. She missed it, much to her dismay and attempts at staying angry with him, but he always managed to do the opposite. He’d always managed to rope her back in some way, entangled with the exigence of his heart.
He wore a navy Hawaiian flowered shirt, tangled with the white inked pattern of white fern leaves with an intricate design of dandelion-colored pineapples. His aviators dangled from the center of his chest against the shirt, accompanied by that damn chain. Elizabeth hated that chain— hated the way it moved, hated the way it sparkled, and most certainly hated how it accentuated his collarbones.
His pants were jean cutoffs, something that he normally wore. The washed out denim suited him against the tan of his skin, complemented by the rose undertones from the heat of the sun. His hair looked different though— it wasn’t combed back to its usual undercut perfection— no, a few strands hung loose over his forehead. Messy, out of place. He looked rugged.
Elizabeth had to pull her eyes away, look at something else. Yeah, those stars look really radiant tonight. Was it a waxing gibbous? Full moon perhaps? Maybe it was the moon that was making her face flush red or her palms sweaty. Didn’t the moon do that? Surely it did. She read buzzfeed articles that proved it did. So, they must be true.
Rooster’s hands were still wrapped around her wrists. The touch had gone unnoticed to her by the minute, falling victim to his incalescence.
“Careful,” he’d whisper to her, his chin lowering to look towards her. His height outmatched hers, she liked to think that he liked that. But, who was she to criticize? She didn’t mind having to look up to him to speak to him. Or look at him. “Reach out and touch me like that, I may not act like a gentleman anymore.” He’d let go of her wrists, which she pulled back against her chest, rubbing where his grip had been. She didn’t lose connection with his eyes, however, enamored by the way they were hooded by his lids, lashes feverish as he blinked. “A man has only so much restraint, Sunshine.” Rooster jokes. He laughed. A hearty sound that she relished in too much after only just deciding to forgive him for what he had done.
What he had done.
She totally forgot.
The moment she remembered, she cleared her throat, stepping away from him. The blush that had claimed her cheeks was hot, fervent in its attempt to stay. She touched her face with the back of her palm, surprised at how verbose the sweltering had become. Her grip was still strong on the white-painted door, on the other hand chauffeuring him inside. His eyes didn’t leave her, the same way his body didn’t move from the outside.
“Are you comin’, or what?” She’d challenge, acting as if he hadn’t said the most devilish sentence to her only a moment ago that made her head feel light and legs turn to jelly.
The man before her nearly dipped his head down, a bolstering laugh chortling from his mouth before he inhaled sharply, making his way into the condo. He looked around, taking off his beat up converse and placing them on the mat. He looked towards the battered sandals, Bob’s, and turned to look at Elizabeth.
“What the fuck are these?” He’d chuckle, shaking his head lightly. Elizabeth had turned to shut the door, leaning against it once it was closed.
“Bob’s,” is all she’d say, laughing along with him. She’d move towards the kitchen, catching a glance at Bradley who now stood upright, observing the different parts of the Condo. She internally hoped that it was up to par— not that her and Natasha had made such a mess— but, you know, she was thinking about it.
Bradley’s playful expression dropped when she had mentioned Bob, muttering a small, “Of course they are,” before wandering over to the populated living room. Elizabeth followed him shortly after, grabbing her water bottle from the countertop.
The sage green couches that were covered with an assortment of blankets had been ruined the minute that the other pilots had made their home on them. The perpendicular white couch, a loveseat, had Payback and Fanboy sitting on it, sharing a wool blanket. Hangman and Coyote sat on one end of the couch, closest to the others, followed by Bob, then Phoenix. The end was open for the final two pilots. Of course Elizabeth would have to sit next to Bradley. It wasn’t like he smelled bad—he most certainly didn’t— but it was something that made her go fucking seriously?
“There’s beers in the fridge,” Natasha would call out, but none of the pilots budged. Elizabeth didn’t want to drink today. She was exhausted as is from today’s flight practice, and she could only assume the same for the others.
“Mavrick had me rolling today, so no thank you.” Payback jokes, Fanboy joining him in for a good laugh.
“Seriously, man, first he was over here—” Coyote made a motion with his hand from the right, “Then, he was over here!” His hand made a lightning fast motion to the left side.
“Then Rooster and him have a cockfight in the air.” Hangman added, causing Rooster to turn his head as he stood before the green couch. Elizabeth had taken her place beside Phoenix, looking up to him as he hovered nonchalantly.
“It wasn’t a cockfight—” He’d defend, throwing his hands up. Bradley let his body weight fall onto the couch, the extension of the sofa allowed him to prop his feet up. He sat a few inches from Elizabeth, resisting the urge to close the gap. “It was just…”
The other pilots eagerly awaited for him to call it what it was.
“A cockfight. Yeah.” He shook his head, laughing, and the other pilots joined in. Even Elizabeth, who felt proud to know the real reason why they were dueling it out in the F-A/18’s.
The Lieutenants continued to make jokes amongst each other, Rooster and Hangman being the comedic geniuses. At one point, the two of them got up and did a mixture of dances, rocking each other back and forth, which earned a cordial laugh from Elizabeth.
It was moment’s like these that Elizabeth truly embraced. When Phoenix and her would look at each other, cracking up about the weirdness of the men, when they sang their own sea-shanties; all of it created an atmosphere that she became dependent on. It was a family all on their own, born from the academy. She felt that at this moment in her life, she had peaked, but there was still so much left to do. She would look at Rooster as he sat down beside her, closer this time, and he looked at her.
The movie hadn’t even started yet.
“Here you go,” Elizabeth would hear Phoenix say beside her, nudging her shoulder with her own. Phoenix held a blanket in her hand made of the softest cotton material she’d ever felt. It was huge, grey, and fluffy. Liz took it gratefully, offering her a smile in return. She’d throw the ends of the blanket over herself, but it was far too big to just keep it on her own. Liz grabbed the remaining fabric on the floor, and threw it over Bradley’s legs.
He was surprised, but fixed it to his liking. They offered each other an awkward glance before Liz broke away to turn towards Natasha.
Phoenix would take the moment while she held Elizabeth’s eyes to look towards the man that sat next to her closest friend. Her eyes flashed towards Rooster. Quickly, without hesitation, Liz shook her head. “No. No. Don’t look at me like that.” Liz would shove Phoenix’s shoulder and the pilot merely laughed, shrugging.
“Hey, I’m just saying.” Phoenix remarked before putting her hands up in defense, turning away from Liz to talk to Bob. They talked about random attributes of the movie as it began, but Elizabeth wasn’t paying attention.
In fact, she wasn’t paying any attention to the movie at all.
While Liz’s knees were against her chest, loosely, they leaned against Phoenix’s body; the direction that she was sitting. Her back was curved away from Rooster, afraid that if she got any closer to him she wouldn’t be acting like herself.
His legs were stretched out on the extended part of the furniture, arm draped over the couch where his fingers were just an inch away from Elizabeth’s bright red hair. It was still wet from a shower, he assumed, but it glinted in the light. So shiny. He wanted to touch it.
Such carnal infractions made him feel arbitrary when it came to her. It was so different when he talked to other women— he found himself wooing them, impressing them with his musical talents, swooping them off their feet for the night. It was easier to talk to them, easier to impress them. They would stare at him with awe when he said he was a Top Gun pilot; asking him if he went to war and shit. He hated those comments. Obviously, he went to war. He’s on fucking active duty— what would be the point of joining the Navy in the first place if he had no desire to go into combat? What was the point of his grueling process and entanglement with the administration if it had all been for a simple ‘oh, actually…I don’t want to go to war…’ it didn’t make sense to Bradley, but he supposed he just wanted to get laid. Simply put, he didn’t have to put any effort in to manage to get women to fawn over him.
But not her.
No, anyone but Elizabeth Metcalf seemed to play into his desires. He thought at one point she did, but he had been too nervous to ever act on it. At the academy, they were attached at the hip. Domesticity is something that he craved; the little things piled up. He liked following her around, watching her methodically plan her day, fix her landing gear, ramble on and on about her Naval Architecture officer and why he was an asshole. He’d only remember the way her lips would move, how when she was angry her nostrils would flare, or how her eyebrows always scrunched together. The little things.
But he managed to ruin it. She thought that he was selfish, so he convinced himself of that very fact. He was simply a selfish monster who only thought for himself and the personal gratification from flight missions. He died for praise, for the looks of approval— so be it. If he were selfish in his flying, then he may be selfish in other ways too.
He lowered his hand.
Selfishly. His fingers curled into the tips of her hair, swirling the redness around his hand. It was softer than he had imagined it to be. Fascinated by the length and the way it waved like the ocean, his eyes would be entranced. Similar to being under a spell, he’d imagine.
Elizabeth wasn’t blind either.
The movie had been going on for 15 minutes. She hadn’t paid a single morsel of attention to it, but what she had been paying attention to was Bradley’s body that still refused to touch hers. She could feel the heat coming from him, a blazing inferno that was kept deep inside a metal cage. A beast upon a flame, begging to be unleashed. It was selfish for her to want to lean against him.
But the process of forgiving had to start somewhere, didn’t it?
Liz almost jumped out of her seat when she felt her hair being tugged, but not too tightly, from behind her. She’d turn to look at what it was, shocked to the almighty that it was Bradley who had a fistful of her hair in his hand, stroking it with his thumb. She couldn’t see his face, but if she did, all he would see is the red blush homing itself against her cheeks.
She’d turn back to the movie with a huff, putting her hand against her mouth to hide her expressive face. Liz couldn’t have Bradley knowing that he affected her— no, no, no, that would only inflate his ego. She can’t be doing that. At times, she’d think he was more egotistical than Hangman ever was.
Speaking of, the other pilots were completely enraptured by the movie. Good. That made Elizabeth less nervous. Payback and Fanboy were making comments to each other, mainly of Payback asking ‘who’s that?’ and Fanboy answering him with an annoyed, yet dutiful answer.
A few times throughout, Elizabeth would hiss in pain as Bradley pulled a strand of her hair too hard. She’d flash him an angry look, whipping her head around, but would put her attention back on the movie. That only lasted a few minutes.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like movies. She loved movies, in fact. But it was just him. Bradley. Rooster. Fucking whatever. He drove her insane.
But never insane enough to drive her away. It always ended that way between them. Somehow either party wants more from the other, desperately finding their ways back. A never ending cycle.
Bradley’s hand unwrapped itself from her hair, shaking it lightly to get rid of it all. It stuck to him, similar to a magnet.
God, if he weren’t selfish before he would be now.
His hand, acting upon his heinous desires, unraveled itself from her hair and settled at his side…just for a moment. Bradley contemplated. Intensely. He had done much more to any other girl without hesitation, but he’d always managed to miss the shot.
If he wanted something, he would prefer to take it.
Don’t think, just do.
And he did, with pleasure.
Elizabeth was watching the movie. She was watching and sucking up every ounce of information from it. Most certainly. Freddy Kreuger didn’t terrify her as much as he did when she was a kid, but that was alright.
Bob jumped here and there, screaming at the horrific scarings. Everyone proceeded to laugh at him, but she didn’t feel a vibration from the man at her side. She couldn’t look at him though. Nope.
Liz thought it was cute that Bob reacted so honestly. His character was all about being self-assured in being…unsure. She admired him for that trait— as well as his handy skills when it came to the plane's operating systems. She’d admit she liked him for a lot of different traits; his ability to make her laugh, to actually listen about science here and there— oh.
Elizabeth was pulled out of her fanatical trance thinking about her back-seatter when a warming palm scathed her thigh. Her thigh. Covered by the blanket, she was confused for a moment when the large had flexed, squeezing her muscled flesh between its grip. She’d almost panic, about to stand, but she followed the hand, the arm, up to the eyes of the beholder. To nothing of her surprise, she’d stare knowingly into his hazel eyes.
“Bradley,” she’d whisper, quietly, only loud enough for him to hear. But his eyes weren’t on her, rather the movie. They didn’t move, didn’t falter from the way Freddy Krueger flexed his knived hands. Fine. Elizabeth would do the same then. She shifted, bringing her arms beneath her breasts and crossing them over one another.
She’d tried to move her leg away from him, attempting to get out of his grip, but he only held on tighter. His fingers imprinted on her skin, tips of them digging inward. Elizabeth swallowed a lump in her throat, pulling the blanket above her chest, leveling with her collarbones.
Bradley’s grip stayed like that, unmoving but compelling. Elizabeth would return to watching the movie along with everyone else. They were chatting amongst each other, the same as it was 10 minutes ago. The same it was a minute ago when Bradley put his hand over her thigh. Jesus Christ. Was she just going to let him? Just allow that. This.
The short answer was yes. The long answer was…she couldn’t facilitate it now. She was too nervous, too hyper focused on the way his thumb began to swirl in circles across her skin. His rough, calloused hand began to tingle against her, a soft shiver crawling up her spine in response.
“Ah!” Bob shouted again, abruptly, scaring just about everyone. Fits of laughter came out of the pilots after a following second, shoving each other and mimicking Bob’s little shout.
“Bob, how in the hell are you still afraid of this movie?” Fanboy would ask in disbelief. Eyes shifted towards Bob, anticipating a response.
“I’m not scared! Just…off guard.” He’d scratch the back of his neck, visibly embarrassed.
“Give him a break,” Elizabeth would say, waving her hand. “It’s kind of cute anyways, you know, sensibility wouldn’t kill a guy.” Phoenix held her hand up for a high-five, which Elizabeth slapped, a loud clap following. That was a good ass high-five. It was also a good ass retort, shutting up the side mimics from Hangman and Coyote, and returning their attention back to the movie. Bob smiled to himself, too, uttering things to Natasha that she couldn’t hear. What wasn’t a good ass response was the way that Rooster’s hand had traveled to the inner part of her thigh, and pulled. Elizabeth was pulled toward the man, the space between them seamlessly disappearing instantaneously.
She’d yelp quietly as her side collided with his, the aggressive action making her wonder. He didn’t look down at her as he did it, but his jaw flexed. He huffed and exhaled, his nostrils flaring like a bull’s. It dawned on her.
Bradley was jealous.
When Elizabeth made that connection, she chuckled quietly which most certainly made him turn his head. She’d shake her head, looking back to the movie, unaware of his burning gaze thwarting into the depth of her skull.
Bradley’s hand squeezed again, attemptedly out of anger, but Elizabeth paid no mind to him. If he was going to act like a child, she’d let him, but not play into it. The movie was turning good now, as they were about 45 minutes in. It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before, so she wasn’t on the edge of her seat like Bob had been. Or maybe he was always like that, she wasn’t sure.
His thumb began to trace in circles on her skin, making her shift. She wouldn’t hide it anymore. Fuck it. Elizabeth turned her body to curl towards his, her legs that were once resting against Phoenix’s now against Bradley’s lap. His hand stayed firm against her, his knuckles inverting to swish across her flesh, too, making her want to purr like a kitten.
Elizabeth’s head moved to rest on his shoulder, the soft navy fabric of his luau shirt riveting against her chin. Her arms would cross over her chest, comfortably, as she took a deep breath in. She missed this. She missed him, and his warmth.
But that only lasted a moment before his hand began to wander. While it was meandering around her inner thigh, he didn’t go past her middle-section, but he began to get curious. He began to wonder how far he could truly go, how far he could push past that fucking barrier of being “friends”. That title made him fucking sick, it always had. Blistering desire curdled in his chest, a beckoning call to reimburse into what he truly wanted: her.
His fingers got too close to the hottest part of her body, teasing fingertips continuing a pattern of a ‘circle’— even if it was more of a random pattern— but inching closer, and closer. While Elizabeth’s body burned with an aching pain of ‘yes’, she closed her legs around his hand, squeezing him in place. His movements froze, but his pinky finger kept its entrancing dance of genuity.
Elizabeth shifted again; this time, out of the pure tingle between her legs. His hand was so close. She could feel the burn pulsating from the veins that encroached him, just like he could feel her, too. She often wondered what he thought about her, how he really felt. For sure she felt something different. Some atmospherical shift the moment he walked in through that door and their energies had changed. For the better or worst, Elizabeth wouldn’t know. She didn’t want to take that gander yet, not while his hand was thrust between her thighs.
Bradley didn’t move, except for his pinky, but Elizabeth was fine with that. At least for the moment. It was a lot to take in— him, this, the whole fucking moment. She thought that she was going to burst, fabricate into a different multiverse all together with the pressure of his thumb increasing on her skin. She felt ashamed loving every bit of it; knowing especially that he had fucked her over in the past. A huff of frustrated air left her as she shifted again, this time disappointed that there was no friction between them.
Liz felt Bradley’s chest vibrate with a chuckle and it pissed her off. How fucking dare he think himself to be so cocky—
Her eyebrows narrowed, and she pulled away from him. Body shifting back towards Natasha angrily, she didn’t look back to see his expression. Accomplished and prideful, she was her own independent woman now. She didn’t need his touch. That blasphemous chuckle only assumed as much.
Bradley, safe to say, was pissed. His hand was still laden between her legs, loosely at this point, but he’d pull her legs to swing back over towards him. Much stronger than she was, he didn’t have an issue doing so.
Shocked, Elizabeth covered her mouth from the alluded gasp that came from her. Angered, she looked up into Bradley’s hazel eyes with malice, pinching his shoulder with her manicured nails. He hissed in response, squeezing her inner thigh in return. A gasp wanted to leave her mouth at the pleasure. What the fuck was wrong with her—! They were supposed to be watching a movie and now all she can think about is what he can do with those big, large—
“It wasn’t bad,” came a voice from the pilots: it was Fanboy. Elizabeth and Bradley, eyes locked with one another, turned their heads toward the crowd of them. Shit. Had any of them been paying attention? Elizabeth gnawed at the inside of her cheek. She tore her legs away from Bradley, for real this time, and faced forward to act as if she had been paying any attention to the movie whatsoever. She took his hand away from her then, too.
“What do you mean, ‘it wasn’t bad,’? Nightmare on Elm Street is a classic!” Payback hollered back, becoming increasingly defensive.
“Yeah, yeah. Fine. It was good except for Bob screaming every damn time Kreuger came on the screen.” Fanboy relented in agreement, but turned his solemn expression into a playful one as he and Payback looked toward Bob.
“Dude, seriously, we have got to have you watch more horror movies.” Coyote spoke, followed by a laugh from Hangman. Bob’s face flushed with red-hot embarrassment, and he turned his head to face Phoenix, ignoring their snarky comments.
“I’ve got an idea,” Natasha said, eyebrows lifting as she nodded towards Bob. “How about ice cream? There’s a mom and pops place down the street.” The pilots nodded in agreement, a few disagreements breaking out about whether or not rocky road ice cream was better, or simply just cookie dough. Bob joined in talking about mint chocolate chip, and Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh.
Bradley didn’t miss that laugh. That angelic sound.
They began to stand. All of them, besides Sunshine and Rooster. Elizabeth would, eventually, throw the blanket from her lap towards Bradley, who began to fold it.
Elizabeth would stretch, her thumbs coming towards the muscles in the back of her hips to stretch while the others gathered in the kitchen, leaning against the wooden cabinets that were accented with turquoise shelvings.
A wall with an arch-way had separated them, in the kitchen, from Elizabeth and Bradley. She’d wait at the end of the couch, her black-tee riled up around her waist, hands keeping it there. Her hair, golden auburn, had dried now. It was a weird shape because of the way her head was leaning against Bradley for the most part, but oh well. She had to keep it in a bun anyway for work.
“We should talk,” Liz spoke quietly, aiming to avoid attention from those in the kitchen. Bradley began to stand, placing the blanket atop one of the couch cushions, neatly folded. “About everything.” Forgiveness, maybe. She’d broken that boundary of needs versus desire the moment she let him touch her beneath that blanket. Albeit, she is no fool nor a condemner of self-hatred, but merely just a human who has desires too.
Bradley felt his heart drop into his stomach at her words. “Yes ma’am.” He would say, a cool aura encompassing him. Even if he felt like he was going to shit his pants at her words, he’d play off a cool facade. The least he’d want to do is to stay calm, and not act like a fucking animal who wanted to wrap his hand around her—
“Are you guys comin’?” Natasha would holler from the kitchen.
“Not tonight. I have to sort shit out with Rooster.” Elizabeth called back, not bothering to turn away from him.
His eyes didn’t leave hers as he stood at his full height now. His navy white-flower printed flannel glowered in the dim lighting. Broad, large shoulders stared back at her. Most of the time, she’d forget just how large he truly was. How much larger than she was.
“‘Bout damn time.” Payback hooted.
“Don’t get too loud, lovebirds, you know when you’re—” Hangman's irritating voice got caught off by a harsh slap over his mouth from Phoenix.
“We’ll be back in an hour!” She’d call, beginning to shoo them out. Elizabeth could hear her corralling them through the door, the ring of the shackle signifying they had gone. Not only that, but the quiet ambiance that filled the empty halls of the rented home.
It was just the two of them. Alone.
Elizabeth wanted to be kind to him, she really did.
But she never had been known for kindness, only a shining bright smile. An oxymoron on the word “Sunshine,” typical for the Navy.
“Why did you do it, Bradley?” Elizabeth turned away from the cushion of the couch now, index finger raising to press against her lips. “Ground me for all that time. Like a child.” Her words struck like venom. Short, seething, and aimed right for him. She didn’t want to tiptoe around him anymore.
If they were going on this mission, she had to trust him.
And right now, she didn’t know if she could.
At least, not entirely.
She could hear Bradley move. He took heavy steps from behind, approaching her. She’d wave him off, walking through the wooden archways of the kitchen.
He sighed in defeat. “You’re not gonna believe me.”
With those words, Elizabeth would turn aggressively on her socked heel, arms crossed over her chest. She raised a brow at him; him and his long limbs, arms that crossed over one another, muscles flexed in response. She couldn’t stop her eyes from traveling to them.
“Try me,” She’d challenge.
“It was for your safety—”
“Oh, bullshit.” She’d snap back. Well, she supposed that he was right. She didn’t believe him for a second. Her safety. Please, she knew that he didn’t care. If he had cared, he would’ve told her that by now.
Bradley’s hands were thrown up in both defense and defeat. He smacked them against his legs after leaning against the counter. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, then.”
“The truth would be nice.” Elizabeth seethed, turning towards the sink, away from him. She could barely look at him right now.
“You’ve got quite the mouth on you today.” Bradley’s abrupt snap back had her freezing in her step. His voice had materialized into pure sin, deep and haughty. Elizabeth could feel the vibration, the cadence of his tone ripple through her, and her cunt.
“You’re avoiding the question, Bradley—”
“I told you, it was for your safety.”
“Since when have you ever gave a shit about my—” Elizabeth turned mid sentence, only to be met with Bradley a foot away from her. “Safety…” She exhaled deeply, the monstrous tone that had taken over her slowly melting away. Yet, she kept her arms crossed and stood up straight. She wouldn’t bend to his will, no matter how intense her arousal began to secrete into the air.
“The moment you hit me in the dick with that pool stick.” The memory flooded back to her. That was years ago during their period at the academy. The bar was a popular place for the eagerly graduating cadets, and Elizabeth and many of the soon-to-be Top Gun graduates spent their time there. Elizabeth knew of Bradley, acquaintances at most, stealing each other’s eyes from afar, but only one mere night changed them. Maybe she had come over her fear, intimidation of him, and he finally mustered up the courage to be around her, albeit whatever it may be, they were attached at the hip the whole night. He loomed around that pool table, talking with Phoenix and Coyote before he was rocked in the most sensitive part of his body. Only a small ‘oops,’ left Elizabeth when she turned around, a mocking smile on her lips. Those rosen lips of hers. He knew then that she was plucked straight from a fantasy.
Liz’s eyes averted his own, a stifled laugh came from her. “It really was an accident—”
“Bullshit.” He mocked her. “You just wanted my attention,” now, now, Bradley was preening. Elizabeth rolled her eyes, putting her hand on his chest to shove him away. Barely budging an inch, she pulled it back.
“Whatever you want to believe, Rooster.” She waved him off, shoving him away this time.
“You still mad at me?”
Elizabeth thought for a moment, her hand tracing the wood of the dining room chairs now, adjacent to the kitchenette. “Yeah.”
Rooster groaned, his head thrown back towards the ceiling. A moment of silence passed before he began to speak, his voice arduous and serious now. It frightened Elizabeth with how obscure his tone became. “What else do you want me to tell you?” Elizabeth shrugged.
“Everything.” That’s what she preferred from him. Blunt honesty.
“Okay.” He pushed himself off the counter and away from the cabinets, coming towards the dining room table. His arms outstretched to hold himself up on the back end support of the hardwood chairs. “Okay.” He’d say it again, as if he were convincing himself to do it.
He took a deep breath. Elizabeth did too, mimicking the action. Was it really that bad? Now she was afraid by the way his demeanor shifted. “All of those planes got shot down. That the dual F/A-18 that was supposed to be you was shot down, and there were no survivors.”
A soft gasp came from her. Elizabeth’s hand went to cover her mouth.
“Lieutenant Briggs and Landry. They’re the ones who took your spot.” Bradley wasn’t looking at her. He couldn’t. Not when it was supposed to be her. “They knew the risks. Warned them again and again. They insisted on going.”
“What kind of fucking mission was this? W-What was the point?” Elizabeth had to ask.
“It was a scouting mission overseas. We were outnumbered—”
“We?” Elizabeth clarified. Bradley nodded. “You said all the planes were shot down.” He nodded again. “So yours…” The man before her nodded one final time before he tapped the table with his knuckles.
“The Admiral spoke to me that day. Told me how dangerous it was.” His eyes were locked on the patterning of the granite. “I told him you weren’t up for it. Told him you weren’t ready.” Bradley’s voice broke. He was struggling to tell the story. “And then you were gone.”
Maybe Elizabeth was the bad guy here. She never even heard him out that night. She slammed his door and backpedaled back to Natasha without a second thought or guilt pending on her mind.
“I wish you told me sooner.” She quietly said, her voice muddled by emotion.
“No. You didn’t.” She shook her head, tongue prodding at the inside of her cheek. “You should’ve grabbed me, held me down or something like a fucking dog. Now I feel stupid for—” he interrupted her.
“—acting like I’ve hated you all this time when instead I…”— needed you. She was out of breath. Her hand clutched over her heart, the cage that kept it stable had broken. It feebly beat erratically, the booming echoing through every bleeding corner of her body.
Bradley was in front of her now, only taking a few strides. “Instead what?” His breaths were shallow as he looked down at her. Her jasmine perfume engulfed him, straddling him still before her.
“I…I should’ve…”—told you I needed you. Wanted you. Ached for you. “thanked you. I’ve been so selfish, Bradley, I…I’m sorry.” She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t muster up those words that loomed in her head. Those words that beckoned and itched at the tip of her tongue.
“No, no. Liz don’t.” He’d urge to stop her from falling onto a tangent that he wouldn’t be able to control.
“God, I’ve been so mean to you!” She’d gasp, now rethinking all the times she ignored his calls, his texts, his simple remarks on the bases. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, a few stray ones falling down the rift of her cheek. Elizabeth was utterly terrified at the monster that she had created all by herself: she couldn’t blame him now.
“Liz, it’s okay, trust me—” Bradley would remind her, but she turned away his advances. She didn’t move, however, still caught up in the fragmented truth that came so vividly alive in her head.
“I’m a fucking monster, Bradly, how- why would you still w—”
Her breath caught in her throat.
A warm impact embraced her. But it wasn’t a hug.
He had kissed her.
But she, a spark reginited, didn’t think twice about kissing him back. Fervor prevailed between them. She thought that he would break the kiss in a panicked shock, but he didn’t. More than ever had the pair felt alive. Living in the moment, just as one.
The kiss was slow. Movements were lethargic between them, attempting to find a middle ground in what was happening. Or rather, what had happened. Elizabeth’s heart pulsated with desire, the thumping rhythm so loud that she imagined even Bradley could hear it.
—However, the moment of solace shared between them, something so soft and earnest, didn’t last. Bradley’s patience had worn thin. Now that she knew the truth, and beckoned shaking knees and a clenching cunt, he felt his primordial desires extrapolate.
He had separated them, fingers latching onto her chin to make her look up to him. A smirk covered his face, seeing her flushed and dazed expression hastened by lust. He dipped back down, his tongue shoving into her mouth. She didn’t deny him such access.
His grueling, unforgiving muscle searched the corners of her mouth, leaving no area untouched. He had something to prove. But what?
This wasn’t an act of love, but of strenuous passion.
Whatever it was, Elizabeth’s dainty mind corroborated with thick arousal, a haze that patronized the air and gravitated to the sweat that began to seep from her skin. Lost in such a loophole of craving, he elicited a moan from her that came from the back of her throat. She surprised herself at such a noise, unable to believe she made it. Elizabeth didn’t moan just for any guy.
But this was Bradley Bradshaw; the man who wrapped his hands, his huge fucking hands, around her waist, tongue down her throat, making her cunt clench around nothing. She was a spiraling animal now, practically on the tips of her toes to clamp her thighs together to detest such friction.
She wouldn’t submit so eagerly to him, despite what her body demanded of her. Her hands traveled to the brunettes strands of his air; as short as it was, she ran her fingers along his scalp, tugging at the longer parts of his undercut. A grumble wrestled in his throat, the tremor of such a noise making her shift her weight from leg to leg.
Bradley was an attentive lover. He noticed such a shift, an entanglement that he thought she wouldn’t display, yet eagerly addressed it. Against her lips, he’d utter a soft, “Room,” detaching himself from her mouth, he’d move to the crook of her neck, nose jutting against her collarbones.
Dazed and lost, Elizabeth was confused at what he asked. The fur of his mustache tickled her skin, his large nose. Wasn’t he going to fuck her? Here? Arousal was so thick in the air she practically choked on it before she realized what he was really asking of her. With the words, ever so limited, that she managed to cluster together, “There,” she’d point. The room directly to their right.
His nosing assault on her neck paused to look beside them. The hands of the pilot began to wander, the calloused edges caressing her delicate skin. He nodded in acknowledgement, once for understanding, before hinging his hands beneath the crest of her ass and lifting her. She’d squeak, immediately wrapping her hands around his neck before she fell over. Her legs wrapped around his midsection, feeling the jolting tent in his pants.
Elizabeth hummed with impatience, her lips going directly for his jawline and skin beneath his ear. She’d suck and kiss at the skin, a singular nip to remind him to hurry. The burning ache between her legs ran rampant throughout her body. Alive and erratic were her nerves, begging to be touched. She could only imagine the way his hand would curl around the base of her throat, a soft constriction to remind her of what he could do. The thoughts no longer shamed her, but made her cunt pulsate.
Bradley hissed at the contact she made with tongue and skin, his hand coming upward to smack her ass in response. “Behave,” he’d affirm. She’d squeal, her body shifting upward to find any pressure. She was met with his midsection, but nothing came from it.
It was enough time before Bradley threw her down onto the bed, his body coming to hover over hers. He didn’t struggle, or break a sweat from carrying her, such ardent muscle that laid beneath his tan skin. She wanted him more by the second. His arms were placed around her head, one leg between her own.
“Liz,” Bradley would breathe, his voice breaking at the crux. She hummed in response, her eyes closed as she shifted beneath him. “Hey, look at me.” Two of his fingers would direct her chin to look at his hazy eyes. She’d giggle softly, looking at him with the same reflective desire.
“I’m looking at you.” Her hands would come up to cup his face. To keep them staring at each other. “—always am.”
Bradley’s head dropped to her collarbones, breathing deeply against her neck, “Fuck, baby.” He would groan, one so deep within his chest it felt like it was his own beast clawing at his shell of skin. With his remaining convened strength to resist her, he looked up, her hands following him. “You want this?” He’d always been respectful, Elizabeth knew that, but the impending throbbing of her clit distracted her from sentences. Forming sentences, she means.
“Want you,” her breaths were shaky, fingers curling to brush her nails softly across his cheek. “Want you so bad, Bradley.” She’d whine, now becoming radically impatient. He was so close to her, so close to her cunt that she could practically feel his energy transverse towards her. Into her.
The man above her didn’t need any more confirmation than that. His reign of kisses didn’t cease, this time open-mouthed and drawing down the length of her throat. His hips supported him as he hovered above her, hands now running up the underside of her shirt against her soft skin.
He’d squeeze the flesh between his hands, rigid muscle met with his rough palette, a soft groan leaving her mouth. His mouth reached the midpoint of her collarbone, but her shirt got in the way for anything further. His head came upward, back to her mouth, his tongue demanding entry. She obliged and was met with intangible force. Bradley’s teeth scathed her bottom lip, tugging it closer to him, if that was even possible.
He’d tug at the black Top Gun tee that covered her. “Off.” His voice was heavy with arousal. She was glad to know that it boggled him, too. With a little struggle, she’d lower her hands, reversing the fabric over her hands, shifting her hips and upper body to help it come off. When her lower body shifted, it scorched the, now wet, fabric of her athletic shorts, causing her to whine.
Almost over her head, Bradley ripped the rest of it off, still in one piece, but he became restless that she took so much time. She didn’t wear a bra beneath— why would she? She was in the comfort of her own home. But now, Bradley seemed to be, too.
Elizabeth fought the urge to cover her chest with her hands, internally praying, hoping that he’d like the way she looked. Her perky, pink nipples were hardened, sensitive, fending off the cold breaks of air that swooned around them from her air conditioning unit. Bradley looked up and down at her, speechless. His eyes caught on the golden butterfly pendant on her neck, then kept going. Her nerves got antsy, and she was just about to move to shift away—
“Beautiful,” He’d comment, relishing in her presence. Elizabeth’s eyes widened with relief, taking a breath. “You’re beautiful, Elizabeth.” She could feel herself meld into his presence once more, that same feeling of a protected hobble sliding itself into her chest.
She’d whine again, not being able to form words. The female pilot craved him deeply, a never ending cycle of hunger devouring her whole. What she didn’t know was how much he had craved her. This moment, this one right here, he swore he had lived it before in a dream. A fantasy merely reduced to the corners of his mind but as he laid above her, swooning over the perfection of her breasts, he found himself reinventing the meaning of life.
Bradley’s tongue was no short sight. Elizabeth whimpered as his hand firmly cupped one of her breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh between his fingers. His touch was electric, yet also soothing. His mouth latched onto her nipple, sucking and swirling the sensitive bud between his teeth. His hand robustly held the other, massaging it beneath his fingers. That elicited a moan from her, deep and heavy. She was incredibly sensitive when it came to him, apparently. Elizabeth could feel the imprint of his dick rub against her lower stomach, and her hands would travel the length of his chest. Her own hands itched to get beneath his shirt.
“Bradley,” She’d whimper.
“Yes, darlin’?” His words were quick, attentive. He stopped his motion around her nipple, his head lilting to look at her.
“I wanna,” She inhaled, “Wanna touch you.” Elizabeth would do anything to feel the rigidity of his muscular chest beneath her soft fingertips. If he got to touch her in such a manner, it was only fair that she would be able to do the same.
“Anything for you,” his body would come up from hers, the warmth immediately fleeing and her bare chest became cold. His actions moved with haste, however, his Hawaiian shirt that wasn’t button flying off in an instant to God knows where, and the grey undershirt beneath following with it. His chest, huge and bare, laid before Elizabeth.
Her hands acted fast, stretching out to feel his hot skin. He’d watch her explore the lengths of his body, carefully teetering as she came close to his v-line. His eyes would narrow, wanting to see what she’d do. Elizabeth saw the imprint in his pants, and her mouth watered at the sight.
“Let me—” She began to reach her hand beneath the waistband of his pants, the skin much softer, much more sensitive.
Bradley would grip her wrist, shaking his head. “Not tonight,” he’d coo, his voice barely above a lilt. “It’s about you, Sunshine.” At his soft proclamation of words, she’d fold instantly. Her hand, once traversing the depths of his v-line, now grabbed the back of his head to drag him closer to her. The sudden act of aggression had a chuckle boil at the top of Bradley’s throat.
“Needy, aren’t you?” He’d mumble into her skin, resuming his attack on her nipples.
She hissed with pleasure. “Only for you,” she’d managed to say, but not in a tone of playfulness, but a tone of ‘only you, don’t make fun of it.’ but she knew the latter was unlikely.
“My pretty girl.” My. The words stung her so sweetly that she arched against him, thighs now achingly brought back together with his sweet words. If he were going to spoil her, why would she deny such a privilege? To be spoiled by the one and only Bradley Bradshaw: it was a dream come true. A deep fantasy that she wanted to ignore, but ultimately submitted to in the end.
His mouth traveled further down her body, soft kisses pressed against her sternum, then her navel. He paused once he got to the waistband of her shorts. His hazel eyes looked at her for an assuring glance, which she provided wholeheartedly. Elizabeth nodded frantically, shaking her hips.
At her enthusiasm, he smiled cheekily as he took off her shorts, the fabric coming off easily. Beneath, she wore a pair of grey Calvin Klein panties, now ruined to a fault due to her arousal. She looked up from her position, liking the way Bradley looked below her, and turned her head to the side with confusion.
“You’re soaking wet, darlin’, and I’ve barely touched you.” Bradley said against the skin of her navel. His voice sent little shocks of electricity up her spine, causing her to grumble with anticipation. “Talk to me, baby, what do you want?”
No way in hell was he asking her to speak. “Touch me,” was all she could say. The words poked at her tongue, but she liked being difficult.
“Where?” He was being coy, now.
“Here,” Elizabeth’s hand traveled down her own body, sparking her own incentive of desire as she did so. She pulled down the fabric of her panties, revealing her sopping cunt to him. “Make me come,” she’d lapladically order him, her voice lilted with the dreariness of need.
“Yes ma’am.” He’d oblige, just as a gentleman would do.
Bradley didn’t hesitate. The first lap at her drenched, tender flesh surprised her as her eyes had been locked on the way his muscular shoulders flexed beneath her. His body was addicting, and she would become an addict to see him like this.
Chills ran up Elizabeth’s spine as his hot muscle perforated against her, a soft hum coming from her.
Bradley kept going, intensifying his assail. He sucked on her clit, tugging on the hood that grazed the bridge of his teeth. His tongue would saunter, threading against that oh-so-sensitive bud that tingled with elastic electricity that scorched her veins with red hot pleasure. Elizabeth moaned at that— that part of her body had never, ever, been touched nor found by another man. It was safe to say that she was impressed with his skill and attentiveness to her needs.
Whatever nectar secreted from her slit, he perilously lapped up, becoming beggarded by the addictive, sweet taste.
“Fuck,” Elizabeth whined, her back arching against the soft sheets of her bed. Her fingers threaded through his brown hair, tugging harshly whenever he hit a spot that curated such an intense pressure that he had but only one option: keep going.
His tongue continued to swirl and flick, fucking her slowly and deviously without relent. She’d continue to whine more intensely, shifting her hips aggressively. In response, he’d grasp her waist, clutching her in place and holding her steady. The tips of his fingers pierced her skin so aggressively that she was sure he’d leave marks by dawn.
“Be still,” he’d hum against her pussy. She could feel the tips of his teeth against her, and she rocked only once against him. He’d chuckle, noting how impatient she was. He would fix that.
Elizabeth’s back arched with every perfect thrust of his tongue, the hot muscle hitting the spots that made her toes curl, that made her grab onto his hair more tightly. He understood how she taught him to navigate her body. He wanted to know every inch of her.
The pleasure consumed her entirely. Her hands reached to grip his shoulders as her moans and whines became uncontrollable. She was so close; she could feel the pressure building up in her lower stomach, that fleeting feeling that she felt with many men…but with Bradley, it just kept going. She’d beg him if she had to. Get on her knees like a dog for a treat.
“Keep going, Bradley,” she’d whine, her voice caught in her throat. “Please, I’m so close.” Tears prodded at her eyes. This time though, they were out of pure pleasure. Elizabeth was almost confused; she’d never felt so strongly during sex before.
Bradley hummed against her cunt, swirling his tongue more aggressively, purposely flicking upward each opportunity he got to reach that tandem bud that drove her absolutely wild. He kept going, and going, before she felt herself collapse, and release with pressure. Elizabeth’s cunt spasmed, a soft cry leaving her lips, her head slamming against the mattress.
Her body did it autonomously, the pressure instantaneously gone that had been built up for what felt like a millenia.
Bradley’s tongue didn’t stop; he drank up every ounce of her juices, swallowing her like it was the last bit of water he had. He could never get sick of her.
Now that he had a taste, he’d only be craving for more.
Elizabeth’s breaths were rough, inhaling quickly. Bradley pulled himself up over her body, a cool smirk plastered over his face. That feeling, that arousal disappeared that made her dumb. He laughed slowly, looking at her flustered, out of breath expression, pride written across his face.
“Yeah, yeah…” Elizabeth said begrudgingly, smiling back at him herself. She had to admit, his tongue game was pretty strong. “Do you want me to—?” She looked at the bulge in his pants, feeling guilty that she had came, and he…hadn’t.
Wow. No past boyfriend or hookup of hers could ever manage such an achievement like that. It felt so easy with Bradley— so easy to tell him what she wanted. Easy for him to navigate her body. Was it from other women that he gained so much skill? She didn’t want to know.
Satisfied with her exasperated expression, Bradley hopped off of her, his chest glistening with sweat. He left the room, leaving a puzzled expression on her face.
He came back speedily, a wite towel drenched with what she assumed was water in his hand. The man would bend down at the edge of the bed, his arm reaching out to clean her.
“Bradley you don’t have to—” Elizabeth wasn’t accustomed to such mannerisms. Her boyfriends would just pass out after sex, leaving her to have to shower alone. Deal with the mess they made.
“Please, Liz.” He looked at her with that same cheeky smile, “You seem pretty exhausted. Let me.” Asshole. Elizabeth huffed, waving her hand in defeat, allowing him to wipe the warm towel against her languid core. It was endearing, and her heart curdled at the gesture.
When he was done, he threw the rag on the floor, then threw Elizabeth her clothes. The black tee landed on her lap as she sat up. She put it on without hesitation, twisting her wild red hair to the side. Elizabeth didn’t want to put on the same underwear because…ew. Hygiene. So she stood, opening the drawer of the cream-white bureau to put on a new pair. She found a different pair of shorts, too.
When she turned back around, Bradley had put back on his navy tee. She noticed the tail end had been sucked into the waistband of his shorts, so she approached him, mindlessly taking it out. When she looked back up at him, he’d already been looking at her. Her hand came up to caress the side of his cheek, a nonverbal form of communication.
“You surprise me, Bradshaw.” Elizabeth chuckled, watching how his cheek brushed into her palm. “You really do.”
He returned her chuckle with that same cocky expression. “In a good way?”
“Maybe.” She’d shrug. Her hand left his face and went to his own hand, and she laced them together. He looked at her curiously, but she didn’t look back. Elizabeth walked out into the kitchen, letting go of his hand once they reached the dimly lit room.
Perfect timing, no less, as the door burst open with the Lieutenants, cups and cones of ice cream plentiful in their hands.
They hooped and hollered amongst each other, but Elizabeth didn’t feel an ounce of guilt missing out on such an outing.
Natasha’s eyes met hers and widened curiously between her, and Bradley who stood behind her, looming. Elizabeth smiled cheekily, nodding. Natasha gave a thumbs up in the hand free of a cup of coffee ice cream.
When Bob emerged from the crowd alongside Natasha, Elizabeth felt Rooster shift behind her, coming closer to her body. She turned to look at Bradley’s shadow, then back to Bob.
Elizabeth moved from the comfort of Bradley’s heat towards Natasha and Bob. A bright, alleviated smile on her face. They returned it, immediately wrapping her up into their conversation. Out of the blue, Elizabeth beckoned Bob.
“Can I try that?” She looked towards his ice cream in the cup.
He looked startled, face blushing, but agreed. “Sure.” He handed her the cup, to which she put the spoonful of mint chocolate-chip ice cream into her mouth. The cold, creamy texture soothed the wretched soreness of her throat.
She made an imitated moan of pleasure from the sweet treat, then handed it back to Bob. “That’s really good.” Elizabeth sucked on the tip of her finger, getting the last of the ice cream off of her before looking Bob in the eyes. He was clearly shocked. Stunned.
Natasha let out a laugh at his face, and so did Liz. The red head couldn’t resist the urge to look over her shoulder towards Bradley, who joined with Payback and Fanboy.
He was looking at her.
Again. This time, his eyes burned green with jealousy. She smiled at him, tongue poking between her teeth.
part six in two days since this chapter is longer! however, subject to change.
taglist - ask to be added!
if i missed any tags or tw's, lmk!