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discount-shades · 1 year

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Contract Spouse Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Living the Lie

A/N: to quote M*A*S*H “War isn’t Hell. War is war, and Hell is Hell. And of the two, war is a lot worse.”

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader (nicknamed Pip)

Warning: Angst, war, PTSD, civilian deaths, child death, nightmares

Length: 2100 ish

Summary: Jake and Pip settle into living together.

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Two weeks after you had settled into Jake's house in San Diego you were on the phone with Sami. Your almost daily phone calls with Jake had been replaced by phone calls to Sami. You look up from the pasta you were stirring on the stove as Jake walks through the side door. He goes to greet you but cuts himself off when he sees you are on the phone.

“Who is it?” You read his lips as he mouths the question and you mouth the answer back. “Hi Sami,” he calls out.

“Jake says hi,” you say with a resigned sigh. Relaying a conversation between the two siblings when you were on the phone with Jake had started very soon after the wedding and now that you were living with Jake, the habit had immediately resumed in reverse and you had long since given up trying to get them to talk to each other. Jake now sports a smile identical to the one Sami always had on her face during these conversations.

When you finally hang up the phone you roll your eyes at Jake. “You guys are ridiculous, I hate you both.”

“No you don’t,” he grins as he heads to his room to change out of his work clothes “You love us.”

“That's the problem.” You mumble to yourself as you dump the pasta into a serving dish and set the table before sitting down to dinner.

“I got two more quotes on redoing the roof,” you tell Jake between bites of alfredo. “I think we should go with the second, they’re more expensive but have better reviews and can begin sooner.”

“Whatever you think is best.” Jake shrugs, relieved you had taken over the repairs he had been too busy to arrange.

“And the contractor for the hot water tank called, he had a cancellation and can come replace ours tomorrow.” Jake just nods in confirmation and you fight a sigh.

The house that Jake had bought a few months ago, though overall in good shape, had needed a few updates and you had quickly taken over organizing them. Talking about hiring contractors over dinner makes you feel more married than you have ever felt before. The monotony of cohabitation made slipping into the rhythm of life together automatic.

Living with Jake was easy. You worked together seamlessly, easily dividing household chores and responsibilities. Chatting in the evenings, watching tv, or just sitting in silence reading. The two of you just fit together. He had even tolerated you reorganizing every drawer and shelf in the common spaces with minimal cursing over not being able to find things.

Life continues in the same thread. You and Jake grocery shopping, going for walks, cooking, and doing dishes, just easily living together. But as time went on you were finding it harder and harder.

Everyday you had to stifle your imagination as you pictured him coming through the door and giving you a kiss. The little part in your heart that you could never squish down was still hoping that one day Jake would look at you and fall in love.

The logical part tried to keep your breathing steady when Jake would brush past you in the kitchen. Tried to keep you from melting into his touch when he placed his hand on your lower back when you were walking together in public. Tried to keep from staring when you were together.

It didn’t help that Jake frequently walks around without his shirt. Whether it was first thing in the morning, after a shower, or after a run. You loved and hated it. When you said goodnight and went to your separate rooms you wanted to follow him into the master bedroom and finally end your embarrassingly long dry spell. You should have hooked up with your cute neighbor in your final days in Austin. Maybe that would have made things easier.

– – –

“Jake,” your voice startles him out of his sleep. He can hear you tapping gently on his door before easing it open. “We have a problem.”

“What's wrong?” he mumbles sleepily as he sits up in bed, squinting in the hall light shining through the open door. The rain from earlier is still lightly falling outside. “What time is it?”

“It’s a little after midnight, The roof is leaking.” You tell him, hair pulled up into a sloppy bun and pillow creases on your cheek. “I woke up in a puddle, it's coming through the light fixture above the bed.”

Jake mumbles curses. He had been sleeping soundly and would have likely been able to sleep the whole night if the roof hadn’t leaked. He helps you move the bed and set up a big rubbermaid bin under the leak to catch the dripping water while you strip the wet bedding off the mattress and throw it in the bathtub. You flip the breaker and he carefully removes the light so the water can fall directly into the bin without pooling, you dutifully hold the flashlight.

After you follow him into the attic to see where the leak is. Fortunately it is only in one spot and the rain has slowed to a stop. Using the towels you had so neatly organized, you help him mop up all the water you can. You place another bin under the main leak but it has slowed to a drip. Working next to you in the dimly lit attic, Jake realizes he never would have noticed the leak so soon if not for you.

“When are they supposed to fix the roof?” Jake asks you.

“Monday,” you say sadly and he sighs. “If you leave all the information for me I’ll call the insurance company tomorrow.”

He follows you down the ladder with the wet towels and throws them into the washing machine. You follow with the towels from your room. Your teeth chattering and he looks at you for the first time and notices that your pajamas are soaking wet.

“Pip you're going to get sick, go change.” You roll your eyes at him but comply and grab a dry pair of pajamas and head to the bathroom so you can leave your wet ones in the tub. When you come out of the bathroom he meets you in the hall. “I dumped the bin in your room, we should be good to go back to sleep.” You nod but don't follow him; grabbing your pillow you turn to go into the living room.

“Where are you going?”

“The couch.” You stare at him in confusion. “My mattress is soaked.”

“Yeah but mine's not.” You stand there staring at him and he suddenly feels like he has overstepped. The look in your eye is unreadable but you just agree quietly and follow him. When he reaches the bed and you crawl in beside him he feels his stomach clench. He can't remember the last time he slept next to someone, it's been years, definitely before the nightmares started. What if he moves and hits you, or says something he doesn’t want you to hear?

It’s awkward. As soon as he lies down beside you he feels the need to move and eases himself over to his other side. He can hear you rolling over when he does. You don’t say anything but he can tell you are tense. Maybe he shouldn't have insisted you share his bed. “Do you want to build a pillow wall?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You roll over again and he can feel your eyes on him. “Good night Jake.”

“Goodnight.” You stop moving but he can tell you are not asleep by your breathing. He listens and tries not to move but he can’t sleep if you are awake. He feels the bed shift every time you move and shuffle your feet. He stares into the dark hyper aware of you beside him, pretending to sleep before he finally breaks the silence. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“My feet are cold,” you tell him. “I can’t sleep with cold feet.”

Jake bites back a sigh and says the thing he doesn’t want to do. “You can put them on me.”

Your soft laugh almost makes it worthwhile. “I don’t think you mean that,” you counter. And he reaches down to feel your feet and immediately regrets his decision when he feels how icy they are.

“Come on,” he says resignedly and urges you to roll over so you can press your feet to his warm legs. When you settle he finds himself focusing on your cold toes to distract himself from the warmth coming from your body lying beside him.

As your feet warm he can feel the tension leave you as you relax into sleep, your breath slowing and evening out and soon he finds himself drifting off as well.

– – –

Maverick is carrying a lifeless Rooster in his arms. He is standing in the desert. Rubble and fire from a destroyed building around him. Blood is dripping down Rooster's extended arm and steadily falling from his fingertips and onto the dry sand. Jake stands, blood pounding in his ears with every drop that hits the ground. Maverick is speaking to him in a language he can't understand, repeating the same phrase.

When he realizes it’s weird to see Maverick cradling Rooster so easily everything seems to blur and when it clears there is now a father holding his young son in front of him. The boy's eyes are open and staring blankly at the sky. The man speaks but it is Maverick's voice he hears, “You shot at the wrong time, his death is your fault Hangman.” The man advances towards him brandishing the body of his dead son repeating the words in Maverick’s voice, becoming angrier and more grief-stricken with every repetition as Jake retreats, his heart pounding, unable to escape.

– – –

“No!” Jake sits up gasping. His heart is hammering wildly as he tries to breathe. He feels like there is a weight on his chest, contracting his lungs and keeping his ribcage from expanding. The image of the boy burned into his retinas.

“Jake?” The soft sound of your voice startles him and he flinches when he sees you move before pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Trying to rub away what he saw. Your hand is hesitant as it brushes against his back, gently moving and pressing his t-shirt into his sweat soaked skin. He wants to tell you to stop, that he doesn’t deserve comfort after what he did. He wants to get up and leave, but he doesn't. He just sits there frozen and focuses on the feeling of your warm hand smoothing over his spine as his breathing steadies. When the chill sets in he strips off the sweaty shirt and lies back down on his back.

“Nightmare?” you ask quietly already knowing the answer. He nods even though he is not sure you can see him. He’s told you about the nightmares, never why or what he sees but you know he has trouble sleeping. You're the only one who knows.

You lie on your side and he can feel your eyes in the dark. Unable to rub his back you place your hand on his chest and resume the relaxing motion. But the feel of your hand on his bare chest is too much and he stops you, flattening your hand to his heart. When you go to pull away he reaches up with his other hand and clutches your wrist, unwilling to let you go.

“Don’t go.” The words slip out before he can stop them and he clenches his jaw to keep from speaking more. He can feel you nod you head beside him. You slowly begin flexing your fingers and he relaxes the hand flattening yours and you begin to gently scratch his chest with your finger tips. He finally lets out a shuddering breath and shifts his grip on your wrist so he can feel your steady pulse.

“Breath with me,” you whisper. “Focus on my breaths.” he lies beside you and listens to you breathe and focuses on the feeling of your warm hand pressed to his heart and the gentle caress of your finger tips. He feels the butterfly kiss of your lips on his shoulder and his skin burns. Your soft breaths moves over his skin and his heart aches.

When your fingers stop moving he knows you are asleep but doesn’t let go of your hand, eventually he falls into a dreamless sleep listening to your soft breaths.

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin/reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman #hangman/reader #top gun hangman #top gun fanfiction #topgun maverick #topgun hangman #top gun x reader #hangman topgun #topgun

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ereardon · 5 months

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The Back Seater and the Baker || Chapter 5

[Bob Floyd x f!OC]

Overview: Bob hasn't seen Haley Nichols since he was fifteen. But when Haley shows up out of the blue with one sentence that throws Bob for a loop – "I'm turning thirty in two weeks, are we still on?" – all of the feelings from their childhood return. Bob never thought that Haley would remember the marriage pact the two made when they were just kids, even if he never forgot. So what happens when Bob falls all over again for his childhood crush? And what will Bob do when he discovers the real reason she came back to capitalize on the pact is to secure her inheritance and save her bakery from bankruptcy? Will he believe Haley when she confesses that she loves him, too?

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x OC [Bakery owner Haley Nichols]

Tropes: Marriage pact

Chapter summary: Haley and Phoenix go wedding dress shopping; Bob and Peanut have a conversation about sex; the Daggers throw Haley a bachelorette party

Warnings: Cursing, angst, alcohol, mention of vomit

Word count: 2.8K

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here

You looked up from a pile of fabric samples. “I can’t pick.”

Phoenix shot you a look over her champagne glass. “White.”

You rolled your eyes. “They’re all white, Natasha. It’s a wedding dress.”

“The venetian lace is gorgeous,” the saleswoman said, holding up a gauzy square.

“Too expensive.”

“There’s always satin.”

She said it like it was trash and not already too expensive. “Let’s see some satin options,” you said. The saleswoman bristled but rushed off when Pheonix trained her eyes on her.

“Fuck her,” she said and you laughed, settling back into the chair and taking a sip of champagne. “OK you’re drinking, but I’m going to ask you again. Are you pregnant?”

“I promise I’m not,” you replied.

She raised an eyebrow. “Find that hard to believe given the timeline.” She meant the fact that the wedding was in a week.

You shrugged. “We’ve never slept together.”

Phoenix did a spit take, champagne flying everywhere across the cream carpet. You tried to stifle a gasp that barreled into a laugh until the two of you were dissolved in laughter. “Oh, my God, the boys are gonna have a field day with that one.”

“Just hasn’t been the time,” you replied.

“What’s the rush?” Phoenix asked. “If there’s no pregnancy. What’s the rush?”

The truth sat, sour, on the tip of your tongue. Was that where sour was felt on the map of taste buds? Either way it filled your mouth, threatening to swallow you whole. You could tell her. You could tell her and the wedding would be off and you would go home with nothing but a bruised ego and a foreclosure on the way.

But that option also left Bob heartbroken. It would leave you heartbroken, too. Because as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were falling for Bob Floyd, all over again.

“I love him,” you said simply. This time, the truth was sweet. A rush of rainbow on your tongue. A fizzy, familiar feeling. Warmth. “I always have.”

“I’ve watched Floyd go through a lot,” Phoenix said, her dark eyes never leaving yours. “But if this is what breaks him, I’m not sure there’s going to be a way to glue him back together. So don’t break his heart, Haley. He has a big one. Too big. He loves too much and too fast and too well. So God, don’t hurt him.”

“I won’t,” you whispered.

***

“You want deviled eggs as an appetizer?” You stared at Bob, mouth agape.

He nodded. “They’re my mom’s specialty.”

“Oh. That’s um…”

Bob laughed. “You can veto, Haley. It’s your wedding, too.”

“Thank God,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, but veto.”

“Are your parents flying up?” he asked.

“Um, no, they’re not.” You didn’t have the heart to tell him that your parents weren’t really involved in your life anymore. That no one besides Calvin even knew you were in San Diego. That the bakery was failing. That you were going to marry Bob to solve all of your problems. “Grandma Lee is coming though.”

You had called her the night before and explained that you were getting married. You hadn’t invited her: that she had done herself.

If my only granddaughter is getting married, I need to see it with my own eyes, she had said. When you had protested, she added, Do you want the money or not?

Bob frowned. “Grandma Lee, really? I thought you two didn’t get along.”

You shrugged. “That was a long time ago, Bobby.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

The two of you were silent for a moment. You felt sweat start to prickle at the base of your neck, between your breasts. For a few days, Bob had ridden the high of a successful mission once they were back on land. It was that euphoria that had colored everything, that had made him agree to the marriage. But you worried that once those rosy glasses faded, he would realize how obscene it was to marry a complete stranger. Someone he barely knew.

He cleared his throat. “Want to go out for dinner? I was thinking Mexican.”

“I think we should have sex.”

Bob looked like he was choking. Every inch of his face went pink and then a deep red, cheeks puffed out, eyes wide.

You actually leaned forward, pressing one hand to his leg in concern. “Bobby? Are you OK?”

It took a second, but Bob let out his breath, blue eyes still searching yours frantically. “What did you just say?”

You removed your hand, anxiety settling into the swell of your stomach. “I mean, we’re getting married,” you whispered. “Shouldn’t we at least do it once?”

“Peanut,” Bob whispered, his voice rough and sandy and hitting every note perfectly so that goosebumps rose on your arms and legs. “I’ve thought about making love to you a million times.”

“But?”

He shook his head slowly. “That’s what I want, honey. I want it to be special. Not something we do to get it out of the way. I want you to want it. I want this to be the last time someone new undresses you for the first time.” Bob leaned in, trailing one thumb over the corner of your mouth, down your cheek, fingertips sliding to the tops of your breasts, grazing the exposed skin where your shirt stopped. “I don’t want anyone else to ever touch you like this,” he murmured. “You’re mine, Peanut.”

“Bobby,” you whispered, gripping both sides of his face with your smaller palms. “I’ve always been yours.”

And then your lips were on his, one of your legs slung over his lap until you were straddling him, the heat of Bob’s body burning against yours, his hands groping greedily over your back, pulling your hips flush with his, a small, pathetic whine exiting his lips as his hips tilted up to meet yours. “Haley,” he rasped, pulling back, lips pink and raw. “Honey.”

“Hmm?”

“Let me take you out,” he whispered. “Not Mexican food on a couch. Not pizza on the floor or beer at the beach. A real date. Let me take you home and make love to the woman who is going to be my wife.”

You leaned back, threading your fingers through the hair that was curling up at the tops of his ears. “OK, Bobby,” you replied softly. “You have a deal.”

“That’s the first time I’ve said that,” he said.

“Said what?”

“My wife.” He smiled. “It sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, watching the light twinkle in his eyes and feeling a sadness sweep over your organs., “it does.”

***

“Peanut?” Bob’s voice was far away on the phone. “Are you there?”

“I’m here,” you said, standing in front of the mirror, smoothing down the sides of your dress. “Where are you? Our reservations are in twenty minutes.”

“Honey, I’m sorry.” There was a loud bang in the background. “Flight emergency. Bradshaw and I got called back to base.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t help the disappointment flooding every single one of your pores. You looked around the room at the candles you had bought, and the bag filled with tissue paper on the dresser that had a new set of lingerie in it, specifically for later that night. There was also an entire can of whipped cream in the fridge and a bottle of prosecco. “That’s OK.”

“It’s not,” he said. “That’s why Phoenix is on her way to pick you up.”

“Oh, Bobby, I’m not really in the mood to go out without you.”

“Haley? Sorry the connection is terrible. Listen, I have to go up in the air, I’ll text you when I’m grounded. Bye!” The line went dead. You sighed, kicking off your heels, tossing the phone on the bed just as the doorbell rang, two harsh dings followed by a loud knock.

“Fuck, coming!” You practically tripped on your way to the door, tossing it open, a frown lacing your features. “Jake?”

In the doorway, Jake grinned, white teeth blinding against his tan. He leaned one hand against the door frame. “Hi Princess. Grab some shoes.”

You shook your head, walking inside, and Jake followed you, shutting the door softly. “Not in the mood, Hangman. I’m just going to wait until Bobby gets home.”

He chuckled and you turned around with a frown. “Sweetheart,” he drawled, “it’s a trap. This is your bachelorette party. Now put on some shoes and get that fine ass in the car. Phoenix is waiting for us.”

“Bachelorette party?”

“Didn’t think we could let you get married without one final night of debauchery, did you?” he asked. “Shoes, Nichols. Purse. Condoms if you’re feeling frisky.”

You groaned, heading into the bedroom and slipping on your stilettos, grabbing your small shoulder bag before reappearing in the hallway. Jake was nowhere to be seen. You rounded the corner into the kitchen where Jake had the fridge open, his head stuck inside.

He straightened up, holding out the can of whipped cream with a raised eyebrow. “Making pie?”

“Fuck off,” you muttered and he laughed, placing the can back in the fridge and closing the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

“That’s the spirit,” Jake replied, holding open the door. “After you, Mrs. Floyd.” Your heart skipped a beat. You looked up at Jake, eyes wide. For a second, the two of you stood in silence in the doorway to Bob’s house, practically frozen. You were worried Jake could see the reservation in your features.

And then it passed. You stepped out the door into the breezy evening air. “I’m going to ask you one favor.”

“I make no promises.”

“No shots with gross names like blow job or slippery nipple.”

Jake cackled, opening the passenger door for you. “It’s your night. We’ll play by your rules. At least, to start.”

You slid into the seat of his Jeep and groaned.

***

Charleston was bachelorette capital, aside from Nashville, so you were more than familiar with the flocks of women parading down King Street in pink sashes and swaying to the beat of invisible pop songs.

What you hadn’t expected was your own bachelorette party to be made up of five aviators, four of which were men. Coyote, Hangman, Rooster and Payback all sat at a table wearing pink furry boas drinking margaritas while Phoenix did a lap on stage with one of the drag queens.

“You’re next,” Bradley said, tipping his head toward the stage.

You groaned. “Absolutely not.”

Phoenix climbed off the stage, brushing back her dark hair, not an ounce of sweat on her face. “Come on, Princess, you’re the bride, it’s a must.”

“I’m so going to rat on you guys to Bobby!” you shrieked as a man dressed as Dolly Parton dragged you onto the stage. The brightness of the lights hit you just as the dagger’s cheers filled the air.

“Hello Darlin’,” Dolly said, thrusting a microphone in your face. “Your friend over there said you’re a bride-to-be, is that right?”

You scowled down at Phoenix who cheered shamelessly. “Yes.”

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” “Haley.”

“And what’s your fiance's name?”

“Bobby.”

“Well, dear, I think we need to sing a song for Bobby in that case.” She took a deep breath. “If I should stay // Well I would only be in your way.”

Dolly pressed the microphone beneath your chin. Somehow the words floated out of your mouth as the cheers from the squad grew. Even the heat of the lights softened and you found yourself swaying with the music. For the first time in a long time, there was a courage that bubbled to the surface. Maybe it was the two Long Island iced teas that Phoenix had poured down your throat. Or maybe it was the fact that despite the circumstances, you knew that Bob Floyd was the one.

Out of everyone, it was Bradley who got so drunk that the six of you were thrown out of the club. That’s how you ended up at Phoenix’s house at three in the morning eating cheeseburgers on the floor wearing a sequined ball gown she had pulled out of her closet and insisted you wear while Payback tried uselessly to scrub the pink paint off of his chest that read Bride Tribe in loopy lettering.

“It’s not coming off,” Payback whined, tossing another crumpled paper towel on the ground in a huff.

Jake cackled. “Told you not to write it so big, Nix.”

Phoenix popped a french fry into her mouth and then laid back, head resting against Jake’s thigh where he sat pressed up against the couch. “He deserves it. Remember when he puked at my thirtieth?”

“Don’t say puke,” Bradley moaned, looking slightly green around the gills.

“Party pooper,” Phoenix tutted.

“What if when I have a baby it comes out wearing glasses?” you asked, the drinks finally hitting you.

“Have to have sex to get pregnant.”

“Phoenix!”

“Oh shit.” She rolled over and buried her face against the shaggy rug. “Sorry!”

Jake grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Wait, you and Floyd haven’t banged yet?”

You groaned, tossing yourself against the floor next to Phoenix and kicking her with one bare foot.

“That’s excellent,” he muttered, practically to himself as Bradley scuttled onto his knees, stumbling up into a semi jog toward the toilet. The sound of the door slamming was followed immediately by violent sounds and you winced.

“Fuck,” Payback said, shaking his head. “That’s on you, Nix.”

“Why am I to blame for everything?” Phoenix demanded. “It’s Haley’s bach party, she’s the instigator!”

“Oh my God,” you said, shaking your head. “I see why Bobby likes you so much.”

“I see why he loves you,” she replied, brown eyes wide. You were stunned. Natasha was many things. The life of the party. Fearless, bordering on reckless. Demanding, in the best way. Formidable. But this was the first time she had shown a sliver of approval. It radiated through your body like microwave rays. “I mean it,” she added.

“Thank you.”

Just then, your phone rang on the coffee table. You reached for it, pulling it down as Bob’s contact flashed on the screen. “Haley?”

“Hi,” you whispered, standing up and stumbling into Phoenix’s room at the end of the hall. You sat down on the edge of her bed, closing your eyes. The room was spinning. That was worse. You opened them again, wider, the yellow light from the lamp burning your retinas. God, you needed a taco.

“Just wanted to make sure you got home OK,” Bob said softly.

“I’m with Phoenix and the team.”

“I know,” Bob replied. “I thought it would be nice.”

You frowned. “This was your idea?”

“I wanted you to have a fun time,” Bob said quietly. “Something different, a little out of the ordinary. Life is serious, Haley. But you don’t have to be. Not everything is life or death.”

Bob’s words forced tears to spring at the corner of your eyes. It wasn’t the tequila and it wasn’t the impending hangover. It was the fact that even in your drunken haze, you knew you weren’t good enough for Bob Floyd. A man who cared so much, so deeply. A man who would lay down his life for yours without thinking.

The man of your dreams.

“Bobby,” you whispered, the truth sour at the tip of your tongue, begging to be spilled.

“Get some rest, Peanut,” he said quietly and you swallowed the truth back into the bitter pit of your stomach. “I’ll pick you up in the morning, OK?”

“Alright.”

He paused, but the line didn’t go dead. You sucked in a breath. There were two things that you and Bob had yet to do as adults. The first was obvious: have sex. The second, less so.

You had yet to say you loved each other.

You did. That was, without a doubt, the truth in a sea of lies. You had loved Bob Floyd since you were a little girl in the low country. You had never really stopped. But it felt different, to say it now. When so much was riding on the two of you. When the future was almost within grabbing distance.

“Goodnight, Bobby,” you murmured.

He sighed. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You flopped back against the bed, clutching your phone to your chest. As you closed your eyes, the light beyond your eyelids started to swirl.

The last thing that crossed your mind before you passed out into a drunken delirium was how devastated Bob was going to be when everything was said and done.

And how broken you would be, too.

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callsign-joyride · 1 year

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So a thot for SOS Bradley has sex with Phoenix’s sister.. in Phoenix’s bedroom and maybe prompt 13..I love the best friends sister trope

Don't Blame Me | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Summary: You and Bradley get caught trying to sneak around.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x f!reader

Content warnings: SMUT (18+), oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, age gap

Prompt: "I know you said no marks, but what if I put them where nobody except for me will see them?"

This was written for my Summer of Smut writing event. Feel free to send in requests!

You had wanted to move from Seattle to somewhere warmer for a while. Everything fell into place when Natasha called you and said she would be permanently stationed in San Diego to be a Top Gun instructor. You were completely moved in within a month, and she had taken you to The Hard Deck a few times, reminding you that Navy men, specifically her friends, were strictly off-limits as far as dating went.

You weren’t supposed to be dating Bradley Bradshaw. In fact, the only reason that you started talking privately was because you were tipsy and on Tinder. It was a match, and you both agreed that it had to be kept a secret from Natasha. She told you that she was going shopping to find a dress for Bob’s wedding, and you knew she would be gone for a while, so you texted Bradley and invited him over. Natasha had given him a key to the apartment, so he let himself in and yelled for you.

“In my room!” You shouted back. The sound of Bradley’s footsteps coming down the hallway caused you to get out of your bed and open the door for him. He immediately put his hands on your hips and closed the door with his foot before walking you back to your bed. You laughed when he tossed you on the bed and grabbed the TV remote before laying next to you. He put a movie on but you soon realized that it would be forgotten as he started to move his hand up your thigh. You quickly rolled over so that you were straddling and kissing him.

Bradley sat up and put his hands under your shirt. He groaned once he discovered that you weren’t wearing a bra. Your shirt had been quickly discarded and his mouth was on your right tit while his hand was massaging the left. He wrapped his other arm around you and rolled both of you over so that he was on top and pulled away for a brief moment to take his shirt off and threw it on the floor.

“You’re so wet for me,” he said as he moved your shorts to the side and started to rub your clit. You moaned into his mouth and wrapped your legs around him. You could feel his hardened cock pressing into you, and he let out a moan when you reached under the band of his sweatpants and started to palm him.

“Bradley, fuck, I need- you’re gonna leave marks!” You gasped as he started to suck on your neck.

“What’s wrong with that?” He asked as he started to take your shorts off.

“Nat’s gonna notice and she’ll start asking questions!”

Bradley chuckled and kissed down your chest. You sighed as he took your shorts and panties off, kissing up the inside of your thighs. He would’ve been content if you had told him to just lay there. You could feel the smirk as he lifted his head.

“I know you said no marks, but what if I put them where nobody except for me will see them?” He asked.

“Yes, Bradley,” you said. He smiled and you moaned and pulled his hair when he started to leave hickeys on the inside of your thighs. With your legs over his shoulders, he licked your folds and fucked you with his tongue while you bucked your hips up.

“Fuck - just, right there,” you said as he fingered you and sucked on your clit.

“Cum on my face, baby.”

Bradley put his hand on your hips as you shook in pleasure. He kissed your thighs before looking at the blissed-out expression on your face. You smiled at the sight of your arousal on his face and pulled him down for a kiss.

“Can I fuck you?” He asked in between short kisses. His sweatpants were off the minute you chuckled and nodded your head, and you could feel the tip of his cock at your entrance. Bradley was always slow and patient with you. At first, you thought that it was because you were almost a decade younger than him. (You had even told him that you weren’t made of glass once.) He just liked to take things slow and enjoy the moment.

You both sighed when he was fully inside of you. He started to thrust faster, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. A thin layer of sweat was coating the two of you and he kissed you for a moment before pulling away to look at where you were connected. You felt a drop of sweat fall from his hairline to your forehead and locked your legs around his waist as you felt the coil in your stomach tighten.

“Where do you want me to-,”

“With me, Bradley. Cum with me.”

He looked into your eyes for a moment before nodding and kissing you. Your walls tightened around him and he spilled himself inside of you before pulling away and resting his head on your shoulder. After you caught your breath, he got up and pulled his boxers on before going to the bathroom. You turned the movie off when he came back and cleaned you up. You walked over to your dresser and grabbed one of the t-shirts that he let you borrow before sliding it over your head.

“Okay, I’m not trying to make fun of you but how are marks from sex more obvious than my shirt that says Bradshaw on the back of it?”

You turned around and laughed.

“First of all, this is the only secret I’ve kept from Nat since high school. Second of all, she was there when you gave it to me as a bikini cover-up.”

“I guess you’re right. I’m gonna get us some water.”

Bradley left the door to your room open as he went to the kitchen. You could hear him softly singing a Queen song and the clinking of glass cups. And then you heard a shriek as the front door to the apartment opened and closed.

“Oh my God!” Natasha yelled. You got up and straightened the shirt before going to the kitchen in order to try and explain yourselves.

“There’s an explanation for this!” You exclaimed.

“Did you two have sex?!”

Bradley sheepishly nodded his head and you smacked him.

“Gross, Bradshaw! That’s my little sister!”

“Woah, I’m 27!”

“And he’s 36. I mean, I guess there’s not much I can do about this. If you break her heart, Bradshaw, I’ll book you a room in my favorite five-star hotel called the ICU, got it?”

“Alright, relax. I’m not gonna break her heart.”

“Good to know. Please don’t have sex while I’m here. I’d rather walk barefoot on broken glass for ten miles than listen to you two go at it like rabbits. On that note, I’ll be in my room.”

You laughed and turned to Bradley. He looked pretty embarrassed and that only made you laugh harder.

Taglist:

@littlebadariell @cycbaby @luckyladycreator2 @idontcare-11 @blue-aconite @maverick-wingman @shawty-fenty @littlemisstopgun @rosiahills22 @katieshook02 @justanothermagicalsara @caitsymichelle13 @smoothdogsgirl @adoringsebstan @cherrycola27 @alexxavicry @mrsjaderogers @mak-32 @thefandomimagines @tallrock35 @caatheeriinee07 @bradshawseresinbabe @atarmychick007 @3sriracha @genius2050

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster smut #top gun maverick #rooster #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw imagines #x reader #reader insert #top gun #bradley bradshaw smut #callsign joyride's summer of smut

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dingochef · 10 months

Text

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Stalking, P in V, oral (female and male receiving), Semi-public sex, light spanking, light bondage, blindfolds

Summary: Even though you should be the belle of the Annual Top Gun Navy Ball, you're more of a brat and Jake enjoys every minute of the teasing and the consequences later.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 12

Word Count: 5.5k

Chapter 13: Belle or Brat?

Your Hallmark movie of a Thanksgiving trip to meet Jake's family ends Saturday at the Austin airport. Tom and Sharon have driven you and Jake to the airport and are giving you hugs and goodbyes on the curb.

Sharon is beaming when she goes to give you a hug,

"It has been so good to get to know you. I couldn't be happier that you and Jake found each other. We'll see you guys sooner than later. Take care, Elsa."

"Sharon, thank you for the wonderful time and being so welcoming. It was honestly one of the best holidays I've had in a long time."

Tom gives you a hug and you overhear Sharon talking to Jake as she hugs him goodbye.

"Love you, Jakey. Hold on to her," Sharon tells Jake.

"Love you too. I will, Mom. Don't worry."

The flight is uneventful and soon the plane is starting the intense descent into San Diego. You grab an Uber and head home, breathing in a sigh of relief as you unlocking your front door and step inside.

"Home sweet home," you say walking in. You look through the mail and think of the upcoming week. Nothing too insane for work and then the Navy Ball for the Top Gun team and a few other departments at North Island this coming Saturday.

When you and Jake had discussed it a few months ago you were unfamiliar with the concept of military ball.

"Have you ever been to one before?" you asked Jake.

"Yes, they're pretty standard throughout the Navy. I've never brought a date though. Seemed like a lot to ask someone I was only casual with. So, I'm excited to have you on my arm with me at this one."

"What am I supposed to wear?"

"Probably a fancy dress, evening gown thingy?"

You laughed,

"Very helpful."

"Cyclone said his wife would be available to take you and Lydia to a dress shop that's pretty good for these types of things."

"That'd be helpful, does Mrs. Cyclone have a name?"

Jake laughed and flipped through his phone,

"Maddie Simpson, I sent you her contact info."

–

The week before the ball flows along as expected, work is busy but not too much. The schematics for Darkstar 2.0 are getting finalized. Lydia and you meet Friday after work for pedicures and manicures to get all dolled up for the ball tomorrow. You select a light pink for your toes and a golden beige for your nails, keeping it subtle. You and Lydia chat and exchange info on what to expect tomorrow.

"Rooster said to be prepared for a whole bunch of speeches, so his advice was to hold off your bathroom break till the middle of those," Lydia reports.

"Jake mentioned there's a receiving line where we get to meet all the big wigs," you offer up your bit of intel.

"It sounds like a prom mashed with a wedding."

"Well, it sounds like this won't be the only one we attend."

She gets a dreamy look on her face, "Yeah, I think these guys are sticking around. Who'd of thought, me going after some random guy I thought was hot at the bar for a quick fuck would have ended us up here?"

"I'll salute your sluttiness, it paid off this time, you laugh and stick your tongue out at Lydia letting her know you're joking. You continue,

"You realize we're going to have to come up with some fake story to tell our kids of how we met their dads till they're old enough. Something about your Aunt Lydia thought your Uncle was hot and was curious of how big his cock was and then your mom completely humiliated your dad in front of his friends. Then they went to a baseball game and fell in love. I don't think that's going to be kid appropriate for a looong time."

Lydia is cracking up.

"How about we say we all met at a church picnic?!"

"Let's go with that."

"So you thinking the whole deal with Hangman? Marriage and kids?"

"I know we're on the marriage train, I asked him when we made all this official if that's where we were headed. Kids are more of a question mark. The way he was with his nieces in Texas was so freaking adorable. It was easy to imagine him as a dad and for like the first time ever I felt my biological clock. Like I felt I needed to give him babies."

Lydia is half laughing and half in shock.

"You are in deep, you'd be good parents."

"You and Rooster?"

She pauses,

"I think he's going to propose. Rooster's been a little weird lately. I keep walking in on him writing something and muttering something like 'That's not it'. And he's been a little cagey like he's planning something."

"Is it a problem if he proposes?"

"I don't think so. It does feel a little soon."

"Would you say yes?"

"Yes, of course I would."

"Then don't worry about it."

"You're right."

At that moment your nail technicians let you know you're done. You walk out doing your best to keep your nails smudge free. Waving your goodbyes to Lydia you promise to see her tomorrow at the ball.

Jake and you have a quiet evening in and an easy Saturday morning, not doing too much knowing you have a big event tonight.

The cocktail hour starts at 5 pm so you're ready by 4:30 and walk out to meet Jake in the living room. He is sitting on the couch fiddling with his phone and he stands up when he hears you on the wood floor. You are treated to a look of surprise and utter adoration from Jake.

"Oh El, you look gorgeous," he declares and

You do a little twirl around showing him the full look.

Your dress is a dark navy one shoulder style mermaid style dress with a plunging back and strap across the back to hold it together. There is a slit down the side to help with movement. When you were picking out dresses with Lydia and Maddie Simpson this one stood out to you for the bare back. It was easy to imagine the feel of Jake's hand on your back.

He walks around the couch, eyeing you from head to toe.

"God, I'm not sure we're gonna make it there, you look so good."

He also looks extremely good in his dress uniform. It's his most formal one with a dinner jacket with tails, bowtie, and cumberbund. You hold back the girlish sigh on your lips on how unbelievably handsome he is.

"You keep your hands to yourself mister, this took a lot of work."

"Fine, fine, I'll take you out and show you off," he stands behind you and leans in as he brushes his hand up your back,

"I'll just have to wait to have my way with you, I can tell the way you're eyeing me you've got ideas too."

You let out a traitorous sigh,

"Maybe, but we should get going." Jake just chuckles and kisses your temple.

When you arrive you pick up a name tag at a table near the entrance that says, "Dr. Elsa Matthews, PhD, PE, Guest of Lieutenant Jake Seresin."

"Jake, you didn't have to put titles on my name tag," you chide him. He laughs,

"It's not to boost your ego, it's a tactical move to annoy one of my coworkers, Jenkins. He's convinced that there isn't a woman smart enough to have a PhD in aerospace engineering so I thought I'd pump up your credentials to mess with him."

"How mature," you respond. You make your way to the bar, get a drink, and prepare to mingle.

Jake sees Rooster and Lydia first, "Look there's Rooster and Lydia. Let's grab a table with them while we can."

You make your way over to Rooster and Lydia and greet them on the side of the giant room.

"Lydia, Rooster, you guys look great," you say giving them each a hug. Rooster gives the compliment back, at least to you,

"Elsa, you look stunning. Hangman, you look adequate."

Jake just laughs,

"I'm wearing the same thing you are, but I make this look good. I'd give you a solid C+."

Rooster opens his mouth to send another volley, but Lydia stops him,

"Let's grab a table so we can make sure we all sit together. I need Elsa as my emotional support animal to get through this."

You snag a table near the back and on the edge.

"Strategic," you say, "Makes bathroom breaks more subtle."

Jake leans in so only you can hear, "Or sneaking off to do other things." He winks as he leans out to join the conversation.

Rooster looks over your head and groans a little,

"Here comes Jenkins."

"The one who doesn't think women can be engineers?" you ask Jake.

"Yup."

A guy with black hair in a buzz cut and a pudgy face with a scraggly mustache appears with his date, a petite blond that looks like she could get blown away in a stiff wind.

"Hangman, so this is the infamous girlfriend, Elsa. I'm Paul" he says, grabbing your hand and kissing it in greeting,

"Enchanté."

You're shocked he would do that in front of his date/ girlfriend. Jake is rolling his eyes at the over the top gesture.

"Nice to meet you, Paul," you turn to his date, "and you too."

She responds,

"Sarah, his sister."

You feel slightly better that he's not a total sleazeball.

"Sarah, these are my coworkers, Hangman and Rooster. This is supposedly Hangman's smarty pants girlfriend," he leans uncomfortably close to your chest to read your name tag out loud verbatim,

"Dr. Elsa Matthews, PhD, PE."

Sarah and you nod at each other.

"What's the PE for?" Jenkins asks.

"Licensed Professional Engineer."

"So basically a nerd license?"

Jenkins laughs jarringly like a hyena looking around the group to see if anybody else is laughing. No one is.

"Yeah, something like that. So, Sarah, do you live in the area or are you visiting?" you ask, trying to divert the conversation to something more interesting. Jenkins isn't having it,

"Alright, if you're actually a doctor in aerospace engineering, tell me something smart."

"I didn't think this was going to turn into a job interview. You could just look at my LinkedIn page if you want to know all my professional accomplishments."

Jake smirks as he watches. Jenkins doesn't give up,

"Naw naw, Doc. Say something smart."

"Will telling you I have three parents for hypersonic aviation modular life support systems, out of a total of 22 patents, shut you up?"

Jake and Rooster are smiling into their drinks watching the conversation. You can tell they aren't particularly fond of Jenkins.

"Okay, okay, I get it. You don't have to be a show off. If you're so smart then why are you with Hangman? I'm on the market, baby."

Jake has snorted his beer through his nose and is coughing, Rooster pats him on the back. Rooster and Lydia are waiting for your next verbal volley like they're watching a tennis match.

"It's because he has a giant cock. Do I need to describe that in great detail so you understand, too?"

You respond with an accompanying hand gesture, slowly, like you're talking to a child, a particularly slow child with a bad mustache. Sarah hides a smile at her idiot brother. Rooster coughs into drink.

Jenkins barks out his hyena laugh,

"I like this one, Seresin!"

Sarah grabs her brother's shoulder and urges him to walk away. He looks over his shoulder as he turns,

"Hey baby, if you find you get bored with the Hangman and want to hang out with a hung man," he gestures obscenely to his crotch, making you gag a little,

"Give me a call, sweet cheeks."

Rooster calls out to Sarah,

"I'd keep him away from the bar for the rest of the night, just a word of advice."

You look at Jake,

"What the hell is wrong with him? And please tell me he doesn't fly a plane."

"Multiple things, probably dropped on his head as a child, many, many times," Jake responds,

"And no, thank God, he is not a pilot. He's in charge of aircraft parts, so a glorified inventory clerk."

"Please tell me that's your weirdest coworker," you plead with Jake and Rooster.

"Yes, everybody else is pretty normal." Jake answers.

You lean over to Jake,

"I'm not going to get you in trouble for that big cock comment, am I?"

Jake looks at you,

"Don't worry about it, the higher ups don't believe anything he says. I would probably recommend not saying that to Cyclone, it might be a bit of a weird conversation starter."

You laugh, the tension easing.

You and Jake circulate around and meet more of Jake's coworkers and the rest are pleasant and not obnoxious jackasses.

Soon dinner is served and the speeches start up. They feel a lot like corporate speeches but with more patriotism sprinkled in. You are definitely bored by the end of the first one. Maybe it is the champagne on an empty stomach, but you decide to mess with Jake a little bit. You slip your heel off and nudge Jake's pant leg with your foot making contact with the skin under the fabric. Jake's eyebrow raises and he gives you a slight smile as he realizes what you are doing. After a few minutes you put it back in your shoe.

At the next applause break, you pretend to fiddle with your earring and pop it off into your hand.

"Oh no, I think I just lost my earring," you say loud enough to catch Jake's attention,

"I think it fell off that way."

You point towards Jake's feet. You lean over to peek under the tablecloth and as you do you cup Jake's crotch. You know the view of your actions is obscured by the tablecloth and your body. You're rewarded with a quick breath in from Jake.

You emerge from the tablecloth holding your earring, stating,

"Found it," as you put it back on. Jake is staring at you more pointedly now, eyebrow raised in question.

You lean to whisper so only he can hear,

"I'll stop if you say stop. I won't do anything that would embarrass you, just want to rile you up for later."

You pull back to see his response and he leans back in to whisper into your ear.

"Just know you'll face the consequences later," he smirks.

It's your turn to get a little flush and give him a knowing smile. Another speech starts and you keep your hands to yourself for the entirety of the speech. At the end, you use the moment to excuse yourself to the bathroom. When you're in the stall you slide off the lacy thong you chose for tonight and ball it up in your hand. As you sit back down you sneak the underwear in Jake's pants pocket. His hand goes to investigate and the moment he recognizes that it is lacy fabric and his jaw clenches ever so slightly. He looks at you eyebrows raised and the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement.

The room darkens for a video on a screen up front. You use the opportunity to slide Jake's hand to the slit on your dress, that is conveniently on the side nearest him. You place your napkin over his hand to obscure the scene. His hand is on your skin and ever so slowly creeping around to your inner thigh, trying to flex his fingers up towards your pussy. The video ends and he discreetly pulls his hand back to clap, making eye contact with you the whole time.

The speeches are over and they announce that the dance floor is open. Jake stands up and extends his hand, "May I have this dance, El?"

The music is classical and you recognize it as a waltz. You're surprised when we get to the dance floor and Jake leads you in a perfect waltz.

"Should I add ballroom dancing to your list of many hidden talents?" you ask Jake as he gives you a twirl.

"Yes, among others. My mom insisted we learn to dance the classics. And how are you so well informed on ballroom dance techniques?"

"My mom made me go to cotillion. I remember all the dances and how to set a 36 inch place setting."

"What a useful skill in this day and age," he laughs.

After a few more classical dances, the music has changed to more contemporary pop and rock and roll making the dancing more informal. Lydia and Rooster make their way to you on the dance floor. The lighting has changed and the room is darker and by the DJ stand there are colored lights that change with the beat of the music. It feels like a high school prom with some of the music choices, and you have fun trying out cheesy moves mostly to make everyone else laugh.

The song switches to a song you recognize, Eric Clapton's Wonderful Tonight. Jake places one hand on your back on the bare skin and takes your hand in the other. You place your free hand on his shoulder and start to sway in time with the music. Jake is singing along just loud enough for you to hear and his deep voice reverberates through his chest against yours. You wonder if you can fall even more in love with him the way he's looking at you when the song ends.

Borrowing a lyric from the song, you say,

"It's time to go home now."

He laughs at your choice of words and lowers his head to tell you,

"Someone also needs to face the consequences of her actions, like putting her panties in my pocket so I know you're bare and there'd be nothing in my way."

You swallow hard and just dumbly nod, no coherent thoughts forming, Jake sees the look on your face and just smirks. You make our goodbyes to Lydia and Rooster and head out to the car.

You are barely buckled in when Jake's hand finds the slit in your dress. Pushing his hand up toward your pussy, he extends his fingers and just gently parts the folds around your clit, and then suddenly retreats his hand. You whine at the loss of contact.

"Does someone not like getting teased?" he laughs.

He leans over the console and puts a hand behind your head to catch your lips and mouth in a deep kiss that you feel all the way to your toes. He pulls back and starts the car, leaving you breathless and needy.

"El, you're lucky this is a stick or you'd be getting a lot more teasing on the drive home."

You are never happier that you live only 10 minutes from the base. Jake drives you home in what feels like a deliberately slower manner. You finally break,

"Jake, I need you inside me as soon as possible."

"Ooh, you are hot and ready to go. This'll make what I have planned for you even better."

"What do you have planned, besides fucking me the instant we get inside the door?"

"Oh, so much more, sweetheart. Just you wait."

Mercifully, you arrive home. You feel like you are sprinting to get the door unlocked and Jake is taking his sweet time getting to the porch. You step inside and Jake follows. He pulls you back to his chest and starts to kiss a line down your neck. Jake guides you to the bedroom and unzips your dress leaving you completely naked. He pushes you onto the bed so you are sitting on the edge.

"You were a wretched little tease tonight," he grabs your chin and tilts it up to look at him, "I've been thinking of all the ways I could have you when we got back here."

His thumb rubs across your lower lip and you take it into your mouth and suck on it earning a low groan from him.

"Teases need to learn some lessons in patience," he purrs as his hand slides down to cup your breasts and pinch your nipple, ripping a ragged moan from you.

"Lay down and wait, I'll be right back," he looks at you and says with deadly seriousness, "Do not touch yourself. understand me?"

You nod in agreement. He leaves the room and you slip off your heels and lay down on the top of your bed.

He returns holding a small bowl and the belt from your silk robe. He puts the small bowl on the dresser and kneels next to the bed.

"El, I'm going to tie you to the bed and blindfold you. Are you okay with that?" He is searching your eyes for any hesitancy.

"I'm very okay with that," you practically purr.

He breaks into the panty dropper smile and says,

"Good, we can stop this at any time, just say red light."

He is referencing the system you agreed upon for communicating in bed.

"Sounds good, green light."

He lifts your hands up above your head and the cool softness of the silk robe belt encircling your wrists and the fabric tightens as he ties it to the headboard. You flex your arms and find that you can't move them far. Jake is now standing next to the bed staring at you. He has pulled his dinner jacket off and thrown it over the back of the armchair in the corner, the medals clinking as it lands. Next he pulls off the cumberbund and sends it over to join the jacket. He unties his bow tie, throwing it down to the bed next to you and unbuttons the top few buttons of his shirt. His next move is classically sexy and makes you press your thighs together to get some kind of friction. He pulls his cufflinks out and puts them on top of the dresser next to him and then he methodically rolls his sleeves up revealing his tanned and muscular forearms.

"Enjoying the show, El?" he laughs.

"Very much," you breathe more than speak.

"Good," he says as he sits down on the bed taking the bow tie in his hand and he ties it gently around your head pulling the fabric to cover your eyes.

You take a deep breath and relax into the bed.

"Good, El?"

"Very good, Jake."

The first thing you feel is Jake's hands sweeping up your legs and just skimming the inside of your thighs short circuiting your brain. You try to thrust your pelvis towards his hands and he evades your motions and continues up your body. You whine out a little pout. Jake just laughs. His hands move along to cup your breasts, just pinching at the nipple to a firm point before he leans down to kiss them. He pulls back and you are lost without any contact from him.

The bed dips around your waist and the crisp fabric of his dress pants stretches across your thighs as he straddles you. You are unsure what his next move will be until the cool metal of his dog tags fall on your chest, eliciting a squeak from you. He huffs out a little laugh.

Jake leans down and holds his lips just above yours, the heat from his mouth apparent on your lips as he talks,

"Sweet, sweet, El. Who knew you were such cock tease and so naughty."

He traces a finger down your cheek and across your lips as he talks. You try to lift your head to kiss his lips and he pulls away before you make contact. Your head falls to the bed in defeat and then Jake is kissing you hard, tongue invading your mouth. He pulls away and you lift your head to chase his lips for more, earning another soft and teasing laugh from him.

Jaken kisses a line down your jaw and neck, continuing his path down your chest and finally settling his lips just under your left breast. The feeling from his lips intensifies and he sucks a bruise there, the slight pain from the blood vessels breaking blissfully radiating out. You're so tightly wound that anything, any feeling, pain or pleasure, soothes you. You moan loudly at that thought. He pulls off and gently kisses the sensitive area.

Ghosting his lips down your stomach he swerves at the last second avoiding your very wet and very needy pussy. You whine out in frustration, and plead to him,

"That's where I need it, please, Jake."

"Are we frustrated, El?"

"Yes, please, please touch me. Anything." you plead, sounding a bit desperate.

"It's okay, El. I'll take care of you," Jake coos reassuringly. The bed springs up and the weight of Jake is gone leaving you a little unmoored. Sounds you can't identify filter over from the far side of the room and suddenly you are overwhelmed by a cold burst of wetness on your nipples, they pebble and firm up instantly. An undignified yelp escapes your mouth with a

"What was that?"

"Ice," Jake laughs as he settles in the bed, and you can practically hear his smirk. He resumes his position over you and his cold lips trail down your torso and engulf your clit with no warning. You respond by squealing a mix of pleasure and pain and lifting your hips as far off the bed as possible, unsure if you want to retreat or want more.

"You are so much fun to tease. So responsive and sensitive," Jake says as he pulls back.

"Not fair, I need you, Jake," you respond, emphasizing the word need. He returns his cold mouth to your clit and begins to lick it fast and hard. Two fingers into you without any resistance and join his tongue in his fast rhythm. It doesn't take long for his mouth to warm up and push you to the edge of climax.

You are a moaning mess, and all you can sob out is,

"So close, so close, don't stop."

He pulls his face back and keeps his fingers in you at the same intense pace.

"You don't get to come till I let you, El."

If it was possible that statement would have made you even wetter. It's not helping how turned on you are. He plants his mouth hard on your clit and keeps licking.

"Please, can I come?"

Your begging question fills the air. "Please?" You ask again. You are so close that you know Jake can feel your walls fluttering around his fingers. Every second you're kept waiting is an exquisite mix of overwhelming bliss and the pain of almost coming.

Abruptly Jake pulls back everything. His mouth and hands are gone and your hips lift to chase him.

"What the fuck, Jake?"

You try to sound more indignant than needy. He just laughs as an answer. The bed shifts as Jake stands up. The sound of his clothes hitting the floor is followed by the ties at your wrists being undone.

The bed dips and Jake flips you over with the ease that only he can achieve. You are still blindfolded and unsure of his next move. He grips your hips and pulls your ass up as he gently pushes your head down to the bed. Your knees are being pushed apart with his knee and his hard cock brushes against your thighs enticingly. He is so achingly close to tight where you need him.

Finally, he takes pity on you and runs the head of his cock through your glistening folds.

"You ready, El?" he asks, still teasing your slit.

You practically shout,

"Yes, please fuck me, please."

"So needy, the tease doesn't like to be teased?"

He is laughing as he kisses down your spine.

You reach a hand back to try and touch yourself for some relief and you are treated to a stinging slap on your ass. You bite your lip to keep the moan it pulls out of you in, not wanting to give Jake the satisfaction right now, not when he's teasing you so mercilessly.

"Do I have to tie you up again? You'll come when I tell you, El."

Your whine in response is pure lust and absolute need,

"No, sir. Please fuck me, I need you."

He obliges and plunges in without any more warning or teasing. You almost come before he has bottomed out. With how hard you're gripping the comforter in your hands holding 9ff your orgasm, you're slightly afraid you're going to rip holes in the fabric, not that any part of your brain can be bothered to care. Each of Jake's thrusts pulls out a moan that sounds more like of a sob of relief than of pleasure. Jake pulls all the way back out and for a second you are lost. He pushes back in and starts to fuck you slowly. You try to speed up his thrusts by pushing back your body.

He laughs and grips your hips hard to still you, the thought that he might leave bruises makes you clench around him,

"Remember, who's in charge here?"

You don't respond and feel another harsh slap on the other cheek of your ass. This time you can't help the moan and accompanying clench of your pussy on his cock.

"Answer me, El."

"You are, Lieutenant," is all you can choke out, your need to come overwhelming you. The word triggers something in Jake and he is now fucking you at a relentless pace. His body is starting to tense, a sign he is getting close to the edge; he mercifully slips his hand down to touch your clit. You are right back at that edge of ecstasy within seconds and you hear yourself begging again,

"Please, can I come? Lieutenant? Please?"

His body stutters and you know he is close. Through gritted teeth, he says,

"Come around my cock baby, I want to feel how much you need it."

That is all the encouragement you need. You shatter around him clenching hard. The orgasm is so overwhelming that if you hadn't had the blindfold on still the room would have grayed out.

Your head thunks down to the soft mattress as the pleasure rolls over you, Jake thrusts a few more times to chase his release, his hands gripping at your hips hard to keep you from moving up the bed.

"Fuck, El, gonna come, gonna fill you up," he grits out. You are still in the throes of your climax that you are almost too out of it to say anything.

"Please, Jake, give it to me. I've been good, please," you rasp. He comes with a mighty roar and bends down, his chest against your back as he catches his breath, one hand planted on the bed to support his weight, the other rubbing soothing circles on your side.

He reaches down to your shoulder and pulls you up to his chest tilting your head to kiss you sweetly, a contrast to the intensity of a few minutes ago. Jake pulls the blindfold off and slowly pulls out of you. He gently lowers you to the bed and lays down next to you pulling you into his arms. Your head settles on his chest as you both come down from your mutual high. After a few minutes Jake kisses your forehead tenderly.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yes, way better than okay, in fact great," you respond. He laughs at your effusive gushing and his lips are on your forehead again. You roll over to your stomach so you can see his face.

"That's definitely been a fantasy of mine, never really trusted anyone enough to let go of that control," you tell him as you trace idle circles on his chest with your index finger.

"I remembered from one of your trips to Bakersfield. Did it live up to your expectations?" he asks.

"Not that this is a Yelp review or anything, but 5/5 greatly exceeded my expectations. Would have sex like this again."

You're rewarded with one of Jake's deep laughs,

"How am I supposed to keep my ego in check if you're telling me that kind of stuff?"

"You earned it, stud." you yawn, aware of how late it is.

"Is Cinderella out past midnight?" Jake teases.

"Yes, and she is quickly turning into a pumpkin. I'm going to wash all this makeup off and then I'm going to cuddle up to my handsome stud of a boyfriend and fall asleep."

"Sounds excellent," Jake yawns back in agreement. You head to the bathroom and when you return Jake is already asleep. You turn off the lights and slide into bed and lay your head on his chest before sleep overtakes you.

Up next: Elsa's family comes to town for Christmas and it's not all hot chocolate and hugs...*foreshadowing*.

Chapter 14

@kmc1989

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#top gun maverick #hangman #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun smut #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x you #hangman smut #jake hangman fic #jake seresin #jake seresin smut

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topgun-imagines · 1 year

Text

Karma

Requested: Yes.

Summary: The fight that leads up to the events of ‘Try Losing One’ and ‘Clock Don’t Stop’.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Angst. Cheating (sorta). Briefly mentioned bad childhood. Arguments.

Note: Loosely based on Karma by Kristen Carter. Prequel to ‘Try Losing One’.

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x fem!reader

Who knew that wedding planning would take so much out of you? You sure didn’t. It seemed as if every day there were new issues with the plans that you and Jake had made. You both had decided on a smaller wedding, only inviting your closest friends and family. But even with the smaller crowd, it still seemed as if there were a million things left to do. Even though you wanted a smaller ceremony, both you and Jake wanted your special day to be perfect. From color themes to place settings, everything was being questioned time and time again. You and your fiancė just couldn’t seem to catch a break.

Today's issue was a two-in-one. After already choosing a color scheme, as well as bridesmaid's dresses, both of those decisions were called into question by both of your parents. While neither of you wanted to let your parents dictate your wedding day, the thought that something was wrong with your choices drove both of you into a spiral of overthinking.

This led to where you were now, your hand clasped in Jake’s as you drove down the freeway. You were on your way to the dress studio to fix both the color scheme and the dresses. Both of which, according to your parents, couldn’t be more wrong. Hopefully, you would be able to fix that today. The radio was humming softly in the background. The only sound that could be heard throughout the truck. You were gazing out the window, mind trapped in a time where you wouldn’t have to worry about any of this. Maybe everything would be better if you and Jake were just to elope.

Jake seemed to be in a world of his own as well, thumb tracing mindless circles into the back of your knuckles. To any outsider, the combination of you and Jake’s racing thoughts would be loud enough for anyone to hear. You loved Jake, of course you did, but sometimes, moments like this made you question what you should be doing. There was no way that you were going to leave him. That was completely out of the question. But sometimes, you wondered whether or not he felt the same. You hoped that when you finished wedding planning, your relationship would return to the blissful, happy state that it once was.

That was how the rest of the ride was spent. Eventually, Jake’s thumb stilled on your hand. The action certainly didn't go unnoticed by you. Your eyes continued to stare out the window, taking in the beautiful scenery. Since the pair of you lived in Mirimar, you had to travel into San Diego for the majority of your wedding preparations. After so many times of going back and forth, you knew that you would be there in less than five minutes.

Just as you predicted, the truck rolled to a stop three minutes later. Jake’s hand slipped from yours as he stepped out of the truck. You breathed out a shaky sigh. Today was going to be rough. It seemed as if every new decision that was made only served to wear you and Jake down. You stepped out of the truck, moving toward where Jake was waiting on the sidewalk. However, just before the door slammed shut, you were able to make out the familiar melody of one of your favorite songs.

Jake’s hand slipped into yours as you walked, almost bringing a small smile to your face. Another, more comfortable silence enveloped the pair of you as you walked through the doors of the bridal shop. Inside, you were met with what would have been your bridesmaid dress and a plethora of others. Near the back of the shop, many color palettes lined the walls. A young, blonde woman approached the pair of you. “Can I help you with anything?” Her voice was unusually high-pitched. You couldn’t help but notice how Jake’s hand slipped from yours the second she approached you. The woman did little to hide the fact that she was also blatantly checking your fiancė out. With you standing right beside him. You did little to conceal the roll of your eyes.

“We're alright. Thank you.” You dismissed her curtly. Stepping away from your soon-to-be husband, you moved toward the back of the shop. You only hoped that he was following behind you and not smiling at the blond. When you turned back to look for him, you found him halfway toward where you were, chatting with the blond with a smile. You scoffed quietly, even though there was a large pit of sadness forming in your chest. You knew the perfect way to deal with that. Cover it over with anger.

You focused on the wall of color pallets in front of you. A few were already in a pile on the counter by the time Jake walked up to you. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. Something inside of you wanted the contact, craved it even. But the other, stronger part wanted him about 50 feet away from you. You ducked away from the arm that he tried to wind around your waist. Jake’s hand dropped back down to his side.

The pair of you remained silent, a large space between you two. A space that neither of you dared to cross. Eventually, soft words were exchanged about the color pallet. Everything seemed to be going rather smoothly until the blonde decided to pop up again. This time, the sweater that she had worn earlier was nowhere in sight. Her eyes hadn’t landed on you once since you walked through the door. Your jaw instantly tightened when Jake glanced down. Was he seriously staring at her boobs right now?

You returned your attention to the choices in front of you. Pretending not to notice the overly pleasant conversation they were having next to you, you tuned them out. You fought the bile rising in the back of your throat. It wasn’t like this was the first time that some other beautiful woman had been hanging off of Jake. It happened all the time. The worst one had been a trip to Vegas with the rest of the Dagger Squad. Jake was drunk and some random woman had been throwing herself all over him. When you got back from getting drinks with Phoenix, you found her marking up your boyfriend's neck. When his hangover wore off the next day, he had nothing but apologies for you. It was safe to say that since then, other women flirting with Jake had become a sore spot for both of you. It seemed that he didn’t mind as much as you thought he did.

You tried to ignore the tears stinging in the back of your eyes. They continued to chat happily beside you. How could he not notice how you were feeling? Sure, you didn’t expect him to be a mind reader but you were sure he should be able to pick up on this. The last straw for you was when the blonde let out one of the most annoying laughs you had ever heard before slipping her number into Jake’s hand. You wanted to laugh incredulously when he took it with no issues. When she leaned in to press her overly-pink lips to Jake’s cheek, you snapped.

The color swatch in your hand was slammed down onto the counter as you turned on your heel. Jake turned with a start to find you stalking toward the door. There was a pained scowl on your face, as if it was taking everything in you to put up an angry front. Jake followed after you, eyes never once settling back on the blonde. She stared after Jake with her mouth agape. The shop door dinged as it slammed shut behind him.

Outside, you wiped at your eyes quickly. The last thing you wanted to happen right now was anyone seeing you in a vulnerable state. Especially Jake. You could hear the door slam shut moments after you stepped outside. You began walking toward the truck wordlessly, leaving Jake to trail behind you like a lost puppy. He called out to you before you could yank your door open, causing you to stop dead in your tracks. “What is going on? Where are you going?”

You sucked in a hard breath before tilting your head up. You still refused to meet his eyes. “You can either drive us back now or I can call Bradley to come get me,” You watched Jake’s jaw tense. It was no secret to anyone that Rooster was a bit of a sore spot in your relationship. He was the shoulder that you cried on in Vegas. He was the person that you went to whenever you were having issues with Jake, and Jake knew this. While the boys were definitely getting better, the thought that Bradley could comfort you better than he could at times cut him deeply. “Your call.” It was a firm statement, one that Jake knew it was best not to take it lightly.

Silently, Jake hopped in the truck and started it. You slipped in beside him, sure to maintain your distance. The drive was a deadly silent one. Not even the crackling of the radio could be heard. You counted down the minutes until you would be able to get out of the truck and away from Jake. You truly did love him with every fiber of your being. It just amazed you that he was so oblivious that what he was doing, while standing right beside you, was killing you inside.

It felt like an eternity later that you pulled into your driveway. You were out of the truck first, slamming the door on your way out. Jake followed suit. The both of you stalked into the house angrily. Jake more so confused than anything. “What is going on?” He questioned. You spun on your heel to face him, a startled laugh leaving your lips.

“Are you serious?” Jake remained stoic, eyes revealing nothing that he was feeling. One thing that you learned early on in your relationship was that Jake used that as his defense mechanism. After growing up in the house that he did, it was mandatory that he developed it. He rarely had to use it anymore, only occasionally during horrendous fights. You shook your head with a scoff. “You know what, Jake? Karma is a bitch and one day it's gonna bite you in the ass.” Your words were laced with venom, meant to burn hotter than anyone ever thought possible. Jake stood speechless as you walked out the door, slamming it shut behind you.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open.

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abliafina-18782 · 1 year

Text

Mr & Mr Kazansky

Pairing: Iceman X Maverick

Author's Note: @ghostlydarknight sent me on a complete brainrot imagining IceMav as Mr & Mrs Smith so I had to write it😌👀 this is a work in progress, I'll update it when I can.

ALSO I'm not claiming I own the rights to the movie, credit goes to the scriptwriter Simon Kinberg. I've just rewritten it so it works as a story and with the Icemav pairing.

Warnings: Depictions of violence, like fighting, altercations, guns and explosions. Spoilers for the movie Mr & Mrs Smith

Word count: 6k

Iceman and Maverick are secret agents that get tasked with killing each other, inspired by the movie Mr & Mrs Smith

Marriage is about trust. Period. You can have attraction, shared interests, if you don’t have trust it’s like you got an anchor, an eighty-foot sail, and no boat. You sink like a stone.

Those were the words that Tom Kazansky had built his marriage upon. For nearly ten years, he thought he’d lived a picture-perfect life. He had a successful career and lived in a two-story house mortgage-free together with his darling husband, Pete Kazansky, formerly Mitchell.

They’d met in a bar in San Diego, during karaoke night, and Tom had fallen head over heels for Pete almost the minute he saw him. The short, dark-haired man, with a grin still so boyish, had dared him into singing a duet of “You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling” and since then Tom had been hooked.

So where did it all go wrong?

Tom pondered this as he pulled into the driveway of his house, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. He narrowed his eyes and did a once-over of the house he’d once called home. No sign of Pete in any of the kitchen windows.

He parked in the garage and made his way into the house through the garage’s side door. The corridors were empty and the only indication someone might be home was the turned-on lamps. Tom slipped on his wedding band, he never wore it at work, as he passed their kitchen that looked like something straight out of an IKEA catalog.

Suddenly, Pete stood in front of him, a vodka martini in each hand.

“Perfect timing.” Pete smiled, except it didn’t reach his eyes.

For the first time in years, Tom really looked at his husband. His eyes wandered across the body he knew every nook and cranny of and checked for any sort of clue. Pete, who usually looked so ruffled from his “job” in his car shop, didn’t have as much as a strand of hair out of place.

His left hand was angled perfectly so you could see his wedding ring. He’d swapped the regular white T-shirt and jeans he usually wore for a black button-down shirt and navy blue slacks. An apron was tied around his waist and his hair had been neatly combed back. Tom thought he smelled cologne too. There wasn’t a single crease on Pete’s clothes and the perfection was suspicious.

“As always.” Tom approached his husband and took the martini from Pete’s hands, forcing a smile on his lips, “This is a nice surprise.”

“I hope so.” Pete’s gaze lingered on the martini, “You’re home early”

“I missed you.”

Tom shot his husband a smile and shifted sideways, scanning a mirror in case they would reveal something hidden, never fully turning his back against Pete. They were both on the edge, Pete craned his neck to follow Tom’s movements, their eyes equally wide open. A bottle of bleach was left out on the kitchen counter.

“I missed you too.” Pete’s lips curled into a tight smile. He motioned towards the dining room. “Shall we?”

“Yes.”

#top gun fanfic #top gun fanfics #top gun fic #top gun fanfiction #icemav #iceman x maverick #maverick x iceman #tom kazansky #tom iceman kazansky #pete mitchell #pete maverick mitchell #mr & mrs smith #iceman #Maverick #no minors #not safe for minors

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 year

Note

Congrats on 100 followers! Fluff prompt #9 with Baby on board please💖

Hi! Thanks so much for your congratulations! I hope you like this one! It's Bob with the prompt, “I love you doesn’t begin to express what I feel for you”. I hope you like it! 💖💖💖

Long Distance Lover

You’ve only been married for a year, and much of your marriage has been long-distance. It hasn’t exactly been the most conventional of relationships, but you wouldn’t trade your relationship or your husband for anything in the world. In truth, you would have happily traveled around the world with him if you’d been able to. You’d met Bob in Virginia one autumn night and had been absolutely blown away. It hadn’t been hard at all to fall for the mild-mannered man with a heart of gold. You’d dated Bob for three months while he’d been stationed in Virginia, making weekend trips down to the base to spend as much time with him as possible. He’d proposed to you two weeks before he’d been deployed on an aircraft carrier for six months. You hadn’t been dating for very long, but you knew even after such a short time that he was the man for you. It had surprised him the most when you’d accepted the proposal and the simple ring he’d bought from a shop near the base. You’d had a simple civil wedding ceremony and kissed him goodbye when he shipped out for his mission.

Bob had called recently from Lemoore, where he’d been stationed after leaving the ship. He’d been selected for a special detachment, and something about it had sent a shiver of unease down your spine. In truth, all you wanted to do was kiss him and hold him. But Bob had refused your offer to fly to San Diego, stating that your work was just as important as his. He’d called you every day and every night during the detachment, but there was only so much his words could do to assuage your worries. The last time you’d spoken to him, Bob told you when he’d return after the mission. Immediately after that call, you’d spontaneously cashed in all your vacation days and bought a ticket to San Diego.

Your flight landed at 3 pm PST. After collecting your luggage at the airport, you grabbed a taxi and had the driver drop you off at the Hard Deck. Sometime in the hours when your phone had been in Airplane Mode, Bob had called and texted. He was safe, thankfully. But a part of you can’t believe that until you can see him with your own eyes. The Hard Deck is just as Bob had described it to you. And when your cab pulls into the lot, you’re thankful that you only packed a single duffle bag because it’s packed. You pay the cabbie with a smile and step out into the humid San Diego air. You’re not dressed up by any means, just wearing a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, and you immediately feel out of place when you step into the premises. You’re one of the few people inside not wearing a uniform and one of the few people not celebrating.

Add to your look the duffle bag clutched securely under your shoulder, and you stick out like a sore thumb. You don’t even bother stopping by the bar to grab a drink, singlemindedly scanning the celebrating groups for the one face you desperately want to see. You have to stand on tiptoes, ignoring how you’re bumped and jostled and how people step all over your toes, but you finally spot the glint of his glasses in a corner by the pool tables. Your sigh is unheard by all, but seeing his face sends relief sinking warmly through your chest. You fight your way through the crowd, avoiding flailing limbs and dancing bodies in your journey across the bar. Bob’s sitting on one of the barstools in the corner, watching two of his squad mates play pool. He’s smiling, and you can see the exhaustion lining his face even through his smile.

Your appearance next to the pool tables attracts attention, as you’d expected. The assembled aviators fall silent, and you wave sheepishly at the assembled men and women. One of the aviators, a blonde with the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen, sidles up to you. He’s not got a single hair out of place, and you have a feeling you know what will pour out of his mouth even before he speaks.

“Hello, darlin’. You look a little lost there. Can a Navy man help you find your way around San Diego?” He’s flipping a toothpick in his mouth while waiting for your response. But frankly, you’ve only got eyes for one man in the assembled company.

“Thanks for the offer, Bagman. But I’m married, and I want to kiss my husband now if you please.” Your smile is sweet as you push past him and stand in front of Bob after so long.

“Hey, Bobby.” He’s looking at you in shock, and this close, you can see a nasty bruise just turning yellow and green on his cheek.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing here? What about work?” You cup his cheek gently, trailing your fingers across the bruise gently. “I had a bad feeling about this special detachment. And I haven’t seen you in a year, Bob. I missed you. I cashed in all my vacation days when you told me you hoped to be stateside this week. I just flew into San Diego today.��

There’s something wondering in his eyes as you kiss his cheek. It’s like he still doesn’t believe you’re right in front of him until his hands land on your waist and drag you close. His embrace is nearly too tight, but you don’t complain when you’re squeezing him just as tightly back.

“I still can’t believe you’re here, sweetheart. I love you doesn’t even begin to express what I feel for you. This mission was nearly too close, darling.” You can still hear the fear in his tone as he drags you in until your head is against his chest.

“I’m here, Bob. And so are you. I’m here when you’re ready to talk about what happened. But above all, I’m here to love you. I really missed you, Robert Floyd.” When you step away from him to see his face, you see a hunger you’ve only seen before on your honeymoon night. You card your fingers through his soft hair and smile as Bob kisses you, soft and sweet. It’s a kiss that takes your breath away. When you finally pull away, the roar of the bar filters back into your ears. His squadron is looking at Bob in shock, and you can’t help your smile as he tugs you into his side.

“Dagger Squadron, this is my wife.” You smile at the pride in his tone and kiss his cheek one more time before stealing his soda as you start to socialize with his squadron. You’re going to have fun in San Diego, if only because you’re spending time with the love of your life.

Want to request something for my 100 Follower Celebration? The guidelines are here! Please leave me a request in my inbox with your ask!

- XOXO Star

#star writes #100 follower celebration #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fluff #robert floyd x reader #bob x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob imagine #bob fluff

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