#coyote x cross
Text
your love is the love i need || chapter 4/4
pairing: javy machado x femme reader (no y/n), callsign Cross
summary: Javy keeps his promise to feed and fuck Cross.
warnings: 18+, minors please DNI – y'all know who and how I am, so we have dirty talk, explicit PiV sex, f!receiving oral sex, overstimulation, truly just a smidge of body insecurity (like not even a full paragraph, just the natural ramifications of existing in the same space as Javy Machado), i don't even know the tag/tropey name for it, but he's too big/some discomfort/some coaching to fit? size kink of course follows, but that defs happens.
length: 6.7k
A/N: took me approx 900 years to finish it BUT WE DID IT thank you to everyone who cheered for, beta-ed, sent HCs, sent vibes, or anything else to make this fic happen. i'm so glad we all fell so hard for this version of Javy; I just adore him.
chapter one / chapter two / chapter three
The day seemed to last forever.
Jake flew especially recklessly, Mav took personal offense at that, and everyone suffered the consequences. Hours of drills led to hours of debriefing, followed by exhausted locker-room showers and when you finally, finally, made it off base, you were almost too tired to remember Javy’s promise.
Almost.
Tonight, after I’ve fed you…
You were cooking asparagus on the stove, and you snuck a glance at Javy, melting butter in a pan beside you. He’d followed you back from the base, and looked seventy different kinds of handsome, standing in your kitchen. An apron was stretched across his chest, covering his turtleneck and slacks, and you were glad you’d changed into a pretty dress. It wasn’t how you normally dressed off base, but you liked the contrast the two of you made–dressed fancy, barefoot in the kitchen, cooking.
Every now and then, one of you would move past the other, and the lingering touches let you know you were both excited about the night.
Dinner came together quickly – gnocchi and asparagus in browned butter and sage, and Javy made a show out of pulling out your chair for you. You pressed your lips together, trying to quell the sappy smile that threatened to overtake your face. Who pulled out chairs anymore?? Javy did – Javy who’d brought groceries, who looked like a GQ cover model, who listened when you spoke and made you feel like there was no place he’d rather be.
A part of you had wondered if there’d be any lingering awkwardness after this morning, but that hadn’t been the case. You’d just fallen into a rhythm of being near each other that felt so natural, and you’d be nervous it was too-perfect, if you didn’t trust Javy so much.
After dinner, you slipped into the living room to change the vinyl in the record player, and a moment later, you heard the tap in the kitchen.
When you came back into the kitchen, Javy was standing at the sink, doing dishes like it was natural.
“We can use the dishwasher,” you protested, feeling bad that he’d essentially made you dinner while you boiled water for vegetables, but he just shook his head.
“Won’t take long,” Javy shrugged. “Might as well, you know?”
So of course, you grabbed a dishtowel.
And this was the dangerous part: doing dishes. Because it didn’t feel like a date, it felt like everything you wanted. Because nights out were glamorous, but someone to clean a kitchen with? Someone who’d bump his elbow against yours, just to make sure you knew he was there, was curious how you were doing. You thought of what he’d said this morning, before everything, about how perfect waking up had been, and you shook your head at him, when he handed you the last plate.
“I need you to ruin it,” you told him.
Javy frowned, confused. “Ruin what?”
“Tonight,” you said. “It’s literally the perfect first date, and it’s setting impossible expectations.”
Javy grinned, a lazy smile that was just shy of proud. “Perfect, huh?”
You couldn’t even give him a hard time; it had been. You handed him the towel to dry his hands and started moving around the kitchen to put away plates.
You didn’t hear him move, but after you’d put the glasses back in their cabinet, he was right behind you when you turned around. One of his warm hands closed around yours, and he pulled you into the middle of the room, shuffling slightly, and the music from the record player filtered into the room, now that the sink wasn’t running, and dishes weren’t clattering. As Jake Isaac sang about waking up to forever, you smiled against the front of Javy’s sweater.
“This is the opposite of ruining it,” you said into the cashmere, and his chest shook as he chuckled.
“That was kind of the point,” he said, his voice a soft rumble.
Of course he was a dance-in-the-kitchen person.
It wasn’t the most elegant, but it was sweet and gentle, and you loved that he’d made this moment for you both. After the frantic intensity of the morning, after the grueling longevity of the day, after the classic romance of dinner, this was just the perfect nightcap.
The song faded into another, and Javy spun you slightly in his arms. You smiled to yourself when he twirled you back into him, you back to his front, his arms wrapping around you like a hug. It was the kind of dance that made you feel like you were on a film set in the 40s, all glamorous and elegant, despite what the stars of the time looked like. You swayed together, arms crossed in front of your chest, and you felt his head lower to rest his temple against the side of your face.
The record faded, and Javy spinned you back. You went out, following his lead, and when he pulled you back to him, the kitchen was quiet as you stood facing each other. You tilted your head, looking up at him. So handsome, so perfectly beautiful, in the dim under cabinet lights.
He stepped closer to you, moving slow because he was a tease and knew how close desire was lingering under the surface for both of you. His long fingers curled around the back of your neck, prompting you to come closer to him, and you did. He smiled just before he kissed you, something like relief in his eyes, and you understood when his lips brushed over yours.
He kissed you gently, like he was determined to enjoy it, like this was the indulgence he wanted for the night. You felt another hand settle on your jaw as he cradled your face, like you were precious, and your hand slid over the soft material of his turtleneck, resting on his chest. It felt like a fairy tale kiss, romantic and sepia-toned, and you loved it.
When you broke apart, you were only breathing slightly harder than normal, it’d been that sweet. You looked up at him, your lips tingling and your heart beating fast, and you knew it was time–you wanted good on that promise.
You weren’t sure what your expression looked like, but whatever Javy read on it had him pulling you back in.
This kiss was different– charged, hungry. When Javy’s tongue swept over your bottom lip, you opened for him, and he hummed in approval. He deepened the kiss with a confidence that had your head spinning, and your hands crept up from his chest to smooth over his shoulders. His had fallen to your waist, and his big hands were holding you tight to him, and you loved that you could feel how close he wanted you.
You didn’t break the kiss, but you did step back, pulling him with you. Javy followed you automatically, and you felt his step falter when you took another, walking backwards.
“You sure?” he asked, his voice a whisper against your lips, and you nodded instead of speaking. You wanted this, and him checking in only confirmed that. Your fingers twined together and he followed you to your room; when you pulled him, he sat on the edge of your bed.
You liked him here, his soft eyes and broad body taking up space that you always thought of as yours. You stepped between his spread thighs, close as you could get to him, and Javy’s hands trailed up your legs. His touch was light, almost reverent, and goosebumps prickled in his wake, as his fingers traced higher. When his hands trailed unobstructed to your waist, his breath caught, and his fingers traced back over your hips, double checking, before Javy’s hands gripped your hips loosely.
“Are you serious?” he whispered, his voice almost gruff, and when you tipped your head to the side, shrugging lightly, and Javy groaned.
Not wearing panties had apparently been the move.
His hands spanned from your hips to the curve of your ass, and Javy leaned up to nudge the neckline of your dress down with his nose. Your head tipped back as he pressed wet kisses over the upper curve of your breasts, his hands gripping you tightly, almost possessive. Before long you were squirming, entranced by his soft touches, but needing more.
You reached back to unzip your dress and Javy stilled, sitting back. You tried not to be nervous, but when the zipper reached the bottom stop, you couldn’t make yourself move to push the dress off your shoulders. You had a decent amount of self confidence, but Javy was…Javy. The kind of perfect that wouldn’t show imperfections if he were on a billboard in Chelsea, much less in the muted light of your bedroom.
You looked into his eyes, read the desire and admiration there, and you bit your lip, suddenly shy. Javy sat up straighter, pressing his mouth to yours in a reassuring kiss. He was so sweet, his mouth felt so good, and you felt his kiss reassuring you.
“Let me see you, gorgeous,” he murmured, and you nodded, shaking your shoulders so the dress fell. Javy kissed you as the dress pooled over his hands, still gripping your ass like he couldn’t let go of it, and you felt the last of your worries melt away. He wasn’t here because he expected you to look a certain way, but because he wanted you, period.
He let go of you to let the dress fall, and the moment it was over his hands, he pulled you closer to him. His mouth trailed down the edge of your bra, his tongue teasing under it to lap at your skin, each caress a promise. The feeling of his tongue over, around, through, the lace was maddening, and your hands gripped his shoulders. Javy kissed between your breasts, and then he kissed you over the bra. You clamped your lips shut to trap a whimper as you felt his tongue teasing you through the lace, and you reached back to undo your bra as well.
“Beautiful,” Javy breathed, and then his mouth was on you again. His lips moved over your breasts and his hands tightened on your ass, and you felt every touch, ever caress. His tongue flicked over one of your nipples, and you squirmed, lifting your head to look down at him.
His eyes were closed.
As he kissed you, as he felt you, Javy’s eyes were closed like he was lost in the pleasure of pleasuring you, and your desire ratcheted higher. His teeth scraped over your nipples, and you were ready for more.
“Jay,” you gasped, and he made a sound low in his chest, like approval.
“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he asked, pulling back slightly to look up at you. Your heart flipped at the sight of him, his lips swollen from kissing you, his eyes hooded from his own desire.
You tried to think of a way to say ‘everything’ that wasn’t terribly cliche, but came up blank. Whatever was written on your face, Javy’s jaw clenched when he read it, and he smiled up at you.
“Get on the bed then, yeah?” he said, and you scrambled to follow his ask.
Javy stood up, pulling his sweater over his shoulders in a movement that looked like it should be in an Ambercrombie TV spot. You couldn’t believe this man was in your room, and you settled back against the comforter,
“Jesus, baby,” Javy said, his voice lower than you’d heard it before, “What you do to me…”
Your thighs pressed together tightly to hide your arousal, and how bad you needed him, just from some light petting and kisses. You didn’t even need to ask what he meant, you knew, and you felt the same. Javy undid his belt, holding eye contact as he pulled it from around his waist.
You thought he’d crawl over you, but instead he closed a hand around your ankle, and pulled you. You squealed as he yanked you down the bed, and before you could register what he was doing, he’d knelt beside it, spreading your thighs around his head.
“Been waiting all day for this,” he said quietly, more to himself than you, and you propped yourself on your elbows to look down at him. Not that he was looking at you, he was just staring at your cunt, spread before him, arousal pooling and he hadn’t even touched you.
“Please, Javy,” you whispered, and his eyes fluttered, before flashing up to you. His lips spread in a smile, and he held your eyes as he leaned into you. His breath ghosted over you and your mouth dropped open, you were panting, near breathless in anticipation, and you still weren’t ready for when he touched you.
Your head fell back against the mattress as Javy licked you. A moment later you felt his hands on your thighs, pulling you apart and holding you in place as he practically drank from you. His tongue spread your folds, traced over you and your back arched when he found your clit. He moaned, sending vibrations through you, and you shivered.
“Fuck, honey,” Javy said, “You taste so good.”
You moaned at his words, and a moment later he was back between your thighs. His tongue teased, stroked, pulled, and when he sucked, your body keened. His elbow pressed across your lower stomach, pining you to the bed, holding your thighs apart with his shoulders as he ate you out. He learned the caresses that you responded to, and then you were nothing but responsive. He licked and you trembled, he kissed and you whimpered, he sucked and you moaned. He had no right being this good, but he was better, and your hips grinded into his mouth, needing him.
“Javy,” you cried, squirming when he didn’t let you move.
“Need something, baby?” Javy teased, and your eyes rolled back at the thickness in his voice.
“Want to come,” you whimpered. “Please, you feel so good–”
“Anytime you want, honey,” Javy soothed, his voice muffled by your pussy. God, how were you gonna get through drills with him, now that you knew how his voice sounded when he was swallowing your arousal. It was so hot, he was so hot, and you felt restless, desperate.
“Jay,” you whimpered, and his hands shifted. They slid up your thighs, wrapping around the backs of your knees and he folded your legs back, pressing you into the mattress.
He had you practically bent in half, a position more a testament to his strength than your flexibility, and you felt your core tightening at the absolute power he had over you. You moaned as his mouth closed over you again, slurping obscenely, like you were a feast spread out for him and he was starving.
And he was drinking from you like this was for him. Like burying his face in your pussy was all he wanted, all he needed, and he was just as desperate for it as you were.
“Come for me, baby,” he mumbled into your cunt. “Let me taste it, been desperate for it since this morning, but now it’s mine, let me have it–”
His tongue and his words pushed you higher and when his mouth closed over your clit, sucking, you shattered. Your orgasm swept over you, thighs shaking, mewling sounds falling from your mouth and Javy fucking groaned into your cunt.
“Fuck, honey, you taste so good,” he moaned. “So beautiful, such a pretty pussy, and you did so good for me...”
You were obsessed with how he sounded, how he felt and your orgasm ebbed into a tide of needing him, more of him. You reached for him as your head cleared, pushing him away from your still throbbing pussy, and pulling him up.
God, you loved how his shoulders felt under your fingers. He was so warm, supple, and you knew how good his hugs were, but you were ready for another kind of embrace. You reached for his pants with shaking hands, and Javy chuckled at your enthusiasm before helping you. As his pants slid down his thighs, he reached for the pocket, but you stayed his hand.
“I’m clean,” you said, your voice hoarser than you thought it’d be. Maybe you’d been making more noise than you thought. If the way Javy’s eyes darkened as he heard it were any indication, he liked how you sounded like this.
“Me too,” he said, after a moment.
“Then I don’t need that,” you said, lifting your chin at the slacks, and the condom presumably in a pocket somewhere, “if you don’t.”
You hadn’t realized much Javy was a creature of motion until the moment, when he went completely still.
“You want me,” he said, his voice so fucking low, so hot, “bare inside your pussy?”
The temperature of the room shot up 15 degrees, you were absolutely sure of it.
“Please,” was all you could manage, and then Javy tackled you.
You would’ve laughed, but you were too distracted by how much of his warm body was covering yours. Strong arms, broad thighs, tight stomach, all pressed up against you, as his mouth found yours for an eager kiss.
You tasted yourself on his tongue and you moaned into his mouth, your hands covering as much of his skin as you could reach. You felt his muscles ripple under your touch–shoulders, back, abs–as you smoothed over his body, trailing down to his boxers.
After the amount of time he’d spent with your ass earlier, you figured it was only fair to return the favor. Your fingers snuck under the edge of his boxers, slid around to push them over his butt, squeezing experimentally as you did. Javy’s hips slammed forward at your caress and you both gasped.
He felt huge.
Maybe it was the angle, him over you, maybe it was the fact that he was between your thighs, but you were breathless at how he felt. You rolled your hips and you groaned as you felt the hard, hot, length of him press against your core, even through the thin cotton of his boxers.
Javy shucked them off the rest of the way and when he resettled between your hips, you glanced down. You could feel yourself salivating at the sight of his hard dick against your stomach. Everything about Javy was beautiful, you knew that already, but it was one thing to watch him take himself into his hand across a kitchen, and another to see his fat cock against your body. You felt hyper aware, needy, like your whole body was begging to feel the stretch of him, and when Javy pushed off of you to line himself up, it took everything in you to not try to work yourself onto him early.
When you looked back up at Javy, you were breathless for another reason. He looked fond and smug and amused all at once, and you were just so infatuated with his handsome self. You were trying to come up with something snarky when he moved, his cock sliding between your folds, teasing both of you. Your eyes fell shut at the perfect motion. He was so thick, so hot, it was going to be a hell of a stretch, but you were desperate for it.
He pulled back, and then pushed against you again, and you actually whined. He laughed, amused, and lined himself up, and then neither of you were laughing.
When his cock breached you, you couldn’t lay still.
Your hands scrambled over the bed, scratching sheets and needing to be grounded, anchored, something to help you take the gorgeous pressure of his hot dick. He felt so good, so big and so steady, and your mouth fell open as he pressed in.
“Fucking Christ,” Javy swore, his voice sounding gone. “You’re so tight, honey, shit.”
You whined, trying to cant your hips to take him, willing your body to give. Your skin felt hot, feverish and you worked your hips for a moment, desperate. He was bigger than anyone you’d been with before, but you’d also already come, and surely it’d be fine–Javy moved again and you winced at the pressure.
This couldn’t be happening.
You pressed your lips together, knowing you were wet, knowing it was going to be a stretch…but the discomfort only grew. God, how was this happening? You wanted him so badly, you knew he’d feel good, but Javy pulled back to press into you again and your stomach dropped.
“Wait,” you gasped, your hands curling into fists against his shoulders. Javy froze, immediately, and it only made you feel worse. You hated this, you wanted to be good enough, you wanted to feel him, why couldn’t you just take it.
“Cross?” Javy asked, worry clouding his voice and you felt awful.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, embarrassed, covering your eyes with your hands. You knew it wasn’t your fault, or even his, but you still felt like you’d done something wrong, like you should be able to just take him.
“Hey, hey,” Javy said softly, and he pulled out gently, but you couldn’t stop the wince when the pressure eased. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”
You felt the bed shift as Javy moved, settling to sit against the headboard, and immediately pulling you into his arms. You went easily, preferring hiding in his chest to hiding behind your hand, and Javy’s arms were reassuring around you. He was so warm, and you appreciated that he didn’t seem at all frustrated, only concerned that you were okay.
“Cut that apology shit out right now,” he murmured against your hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
You knew he was right, but you hated that you felt this way. Your body was throbbing, desperate to take him, wanting to feel him, but you just…couldn’t. You felt yourself calming down as he continued to hold you, and you could tell Javy felt you settling too.
“Do you want to stop?” he asked, and your heart thumped, knowing he would. God, he was such a good guy, to jump straight to suggesting you guys stop, rather than trying to find alternatives.
“I don’t,” you said, truthfully. “I want to be able to take you, I want to keep trying, but I also don’t want it to hurt.”
“Baby…” Javy pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you hated that you could hear in his voice that he felt bad.
“Can we try another position?” you asked, before he could start apologizing for something that was no more his fault than yours.
“Whatever you want,” Javy agreed, and you pulled back to look at him. He meant that, he really did. You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his cheek, smiling sheepishly as you pulled back.
“Why don’t I try being on top?” you suggested.
Javy’s eyes closed and he drew in a slow breath through his nose.
“Have I told you lately you’re my dream girl?” he asked, and you smiled.
“I don’t think you’ve told me ever,” you pointed out, not at all bothered by the fact, flattered by it, more than anything. You pushed yourself off his chest, swinging one leg to settle over Javy’s lap, and you were stilled by his hand on your chin. When you met his eyes, his expression was one of utmost sincerity.
“You are my dream girl,” he said, and despite everything – the fact that you were naked, the fact his head had been between your thighs, the fact his cock was leaking precum between you – that was what made your skin heat.
You reached between you, your finger running over the length of his dick.
“Even if I can’t take this right now?” you asked, hating the uncertainty in your voice.
“No matter if,” he corrected, “you can’t take this right now.”
His breath caught as your finger traced a vein, but he didn’t look away. He meant it, you realized, and it only made you more determined to take him. You could do it.
Javy leaned back against the headboard and you positioned yourself over him, guiding his cock to your entrance. You licked your lips and pressed down until it hurt–only a short distance, but it wasn’t as overwhelming this time, because you were entirely in control.
Javy’s hands smoothed down your side, settling on your ass again, and your lips quirked into a smile, amused that Javy Machado was an ass man. You worked your hips slightly, trying to stretch yourself out, and reached between your thighs to play with your clit.
Javy groaned.
You looked up at him, but he wasn’t looking at your face; his eyes were glued to where your hand was rubbing over your clit.
“Such a pretty pussy,” Javy mumbled, almost entranced, and you smiled at his sweet admiration. You spread your fingers into a v, feeling around where he was pressing into you, smoothing back up to your clit.
“Can’t believe–” he broke off, shaking his head. “I got to see you come this morning, and then on my face, and now I get to watch you work yourself onto my dick.”
He said it like it was an honor, like you weren’t working yourself onto the biggest cock in Uncle Sam’s navy, like it was his privilege. His admiration warmed you, worked through you as your fingers brushed over your clit. You felt your knees slide further apart as you were able to take more of him. The extra inch felt like yards, but it felt so good, so right, to take him into you.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” he promised, and you realized his hands on your ass were lifting, helping. He was taking some of the weight off your thighs, literally holding you in his hands, so you wouldn’t be pressured to take him too fast.
“So big, Javy,” you panted. “God, you’re stretching me so good.”
Javy’s hips pushed up slightly at your words, and it stung, but with your hand working your clit and the way he was holding you steady, it was more pressure than pain.
“You can’t talk to me like that, honey,” he warned. “I’m trying real hard to be gentle here, you can’t talk dirty to me and not make me mess up.”
A part of you wanted him to mess up, wanted him to just ram into you, and you could deal with it later. Another part of you relished the stretch, accepted the slow burn of sinking onto him torturously slow. You felt hyper aware of him, of you, and every millimeter of him that you took, only made you want him more.
“You talk to me then,” you muttered, and Javy huffed out a laugh.
“What do you want to hear, huh?” he asked. “How fucking good you feel? How hard I am for you, how I feel like I’m throbbing for you, how bad I can’t wait to be inside you?”
Your fingers worked faster, and you moaned, bearing down. “Yeah, that’ll do.”
“We’ll get you there, honey,” he soothed, his cock easing into you, slow and thick and fucking perfect. “With how good you feel around my dick? Honey, we’re not gonna stop. We’re gonna train this pussy, soon enough, she’ll be able to take me.”
You whimpered at the thought, at the mere concept of being so stuffed with Javy’s cock that eventually your body would just adapt to it. You shifted your hips on principle, determined to take more of him, and Javy chuckled.
“And then can you imagine the hell we’ll get into? Quickies in the shower after a long day of drills, in the back seat of a car–fuck, baby, to think I could slide into this pussy whenever I want, ready for me, to take me–”
He pressed deeper, a motion that bordered on painful, but soothed by the sweetness of his words. You wanted that, so badly, for your body to always be ready for his. Javy pulled back, just slightly, rocking into you, and you whimpered.
“Feels so good, Javy,” you whispered, feeling yourself sink lower.
“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he said, leaning forward to brush loose kisses over your skin. “You’re so beautiful, so good, and working so hard to take my dick.”
His words sent goosebumps over your skin, and you wondered if you should be embarrassed by how much you wanted to be good for him.
It took a while.
You didn’t know how long, but eventually you realized that though you were still shaking, you were no longer hovering. You were in Javy’s lap, your arms curled between your bodies and your hips pressed flush against his, his cock entirely inside of you.
He felt…unreal. Enormous, like you could only breathe when he did, but so fucking good.
“I did it,” you breathed, and when you looked up at Javy, he was grinning down at you. He looked proud, he looked pleased, he looked so damn pretty you wanted to never leave his lap.
“How’s it feel?” he asked, and you took a moment to bask in his pride.
“Pretty good,” you teased lightly, and Javy had the expected reaction of affronted indignation.
“Pretty good,” he sputtered, like it was sacrilege. “Wanna try again?”
You shook your head, smiling, and it was knocked right off your face when he lifted his hips. It wasn’t a thrust, it wasn’t like he’d pulled out, but Javy pushed up into you like he was doing a hip press at the gym. Your jaw dropped open as his thighs flexed under your ass, pushing impossibly deeper into your cunt.
“So full,” you gasped, and Javy grunted like that was an acceptable answer. “Fuck, Javy, you feel so big. I can’t– feels like you’re everywhere; I love it.”
“That’s better,” he muttered, his voice dark. “Because you feel like fucking everything to me, honey. So tight, and warm, fitting me like a glove after you worked so hard to stretch this pussy over me.”
You did feel stretched and his words sent pulses of heat through you. The burning stretch of him eased as your body tingled with arousal, wanting to feel him, needing to feel him.
“Need you to move, Jay,” you whispered, and Javy’s hips punched up in response.
“You need me,” he repeated almost to himself, and you both moaned when his dick slid out of you partway, before he fed it back to you slowly. “That’s right, sweetheart, first you were embarrassed because you couldn’t take it, but now that you have this cock, you just want more?”
“Please,” you whimpered, astonished to find you were actually close to tears. You wanted that, wanted him, wanted the stretch and the pressure and the motion of his hips. You tried to lift yourself off of him, but your legs were shaking so bad, so overstimulated by the fullness of him in you, but you were desperate for it.
“S’okay, baby,” Javy practically purred, his voice sweet and dark and deep. “I’ll help you.”
His hands closed around your waist, gripping you tightly. He lifted you off his cock, pulling his hips back and then bringing you back down into him. You moaned at the sensation, perfect and overwhelming and so strong, feeling every gorgeous inch of his cock.
“Feels so good,” you mumbled, and Javy groaned.
“Honey, you have no idea,” he grunted, and he lifted you again.
It was slow, it was impossibly deep, but it was everything. You felt drunk on the deep stretch of him, the way you could feel his eyes on you, the way every breath he took you felt against your skin. You felt so connected to him, so overwhelmed by him, and the slow press of his cock. He pulled you forward, rocking your hips down into him and when your clit brushed against him, you jolted.
“That’s it,” Javy encouraged, pushing his cock deeper, and you felt your body trembling. “Honey, you’re doing so good. You feel so fucking good around me, I can’t–”
He settled into a rhythm, pulling you up and bringing you down, bruising your clit and fucking you against gravity. He moved you over him like a fleshlight and you had no control over your body, the sounds spilling out of you. He felt so good, so slow and steady and deep; it was perfect and you were overwhelmed.
“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, amazed to find it was true. Just from the steady press of him, the deep pressure, the teasing brush of your clit, you were somehow there again.
“Ah, please, honey, let me see it,” Javy groaned, and he buried his face in your neck. You wrapped your arms around him, clinging to him as he moved you over him, your body climbing higher.
You felt him everywhere, like a heartbeat, like your pulse, and you crested before you could realize it was there. Your body felt liquid, like it would never stop shaking, like this was what you were made for, to take his cock like this. Your head swam as you slumped into him, your hips throwing your pussy at Javy as your orgasm worked through you, your body pulsing and sated.
The room was a dreamlike haze as you came back to yourself.
You were on your back on the bed, and Javy was hovering over you, and your breath caught in your throat as you realized his arms were shaking with the effort to hold himself still.
God, he was so beautiful.
His perfect body, his incredible strength, had nothing to the beauty of his heart, the way he had worked you through that and was now carefully watched you, smiling hesitantly when he realized you were back. Your throat felt hoarse and you swallowed slightly before lifting your hips weakly.
Javy’s breath punched out of him and his eyes clenched shut as he dropped to his elbows over you.
“Sweetheart…” he groaned, and his voice sent tingles over your skin. You loved how strung out he sounded, how he was holding on just by a thread, and you wanted him to come undone.
“Fuck me, Jay,” you whispered, and his eyes opened, looking between yours.
“Yeah?” he asked, his voice hoarse, and you needed it, suddenly. You nodded, pressing your lips together, wanting it more than anything. You knew you were adjusted to his size, for the immediate future at least, and you wanted to know how he’d feel finding his pleasure in you, driving into you when his release was the goal, wanted to be the reason for it.
“I can take it,” you whispered, and Javy surged up to kiss you.
It was messy, mostly gasping breath and clashing teeth, and then his arms wound under your back, and his hands wrapped around your shoulders as he settled into you. You were just about to think that it was a sweet embrace, when he started moving.
Javy pulled out of you and slammed back in, and you cried out.
Gone was the gentleness with which he’d coaxed you, gone was the steady control, the gentle pace. In its place was a gnawing, gaping desire, and you could feel how badly Javy needed this. You moaned with the thrust and it seemed to spur Javy on. He pulled back and pushed back in again, just as deep, just as strong, just as perfect.
Fuck, he was so big, filled you so damn well like this, and how he was moving made you dizzy. He settled into a punishing pace that left you breathless, but who needed air, when you had dick this good?
He was everywhere.
Pressing you into the mattress, shoving his cock into your cunt, clutching you to him, overwhelming and everywhere and everywhere. You couldn’t tell where he stopped and you began, felt like an extension of his pleasure and the thought nearly sent you out of your mind.
“How is it still so tight?” Javy grunted, and you moaned at the tremble in his voice, like he was just as awed and exhausted as you were. “Fuck, honey, you’re so perfect. Taking me so damn well, pulling me into this hot cunt, it’s so good–”
His hips slammed into you, each stroke brushing your walls and making you feel so full. His body weight over you felt like the only thing grounding you, and you moved with him, for him, all for him. The room was thick with the smell of your shared sweat and your cum, and Javy’s panting breath in your ears was the perfect chorus.
You could feel Javy getting close, could feel his thrusts go from determined to desperate and you were lost in it. For how well he’d fucked you, how carefully he’d held you, you needed him to come. Heat spiraled through you, your mind blanking as you realized you were whining with each sure stroke he made.
“Need you to come,” you whimpered, breaking off when Javy’s hips stuttered. “Please, Javy, feels so good, need to feel you–”
Javy arched his back to kiss your neck. His teeth closed over your skin, his tongue laving over you, and you moaned.
“You know how to make that happen, sweetheart,” he whispered against your neck, and you shook your head as his meaning sunk in.
“I can’t,” you managed, even as your thighs started shaking. He’d pulled so much pleasure from your body, and you didn’t know if you could survive another wave…oh, but how he sounded. His soft grunts, the growl in his voice, the heavy sound his balls made as he pushed into you.
“I think you can,” Javy said, closing his lips and sucking. You keened, your body overwrought and unmoored, just orbiting around him. His strong hands, the taste of his sweat, the rhythm of his hips, the only things that were real.
His hands on your shoulders tightened, crushing you to him and something in the angle changed. He brushed a different part of you, deeper, softer, and your breath caught.
“Just there?” Javy asked, proud and breathless. “That’s the spot that’ll get this pussy to come again?”
“Javy–” you moaned, as he hit it again, and again.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Javy soothed, his dick driving into you. “You’ve done so good for me, this pussy has been so fucking good, and I know you can do it again. Let me feel it, honey, let me feel this tight pussy come for me one more time, fucking take it, come on.”
He was fucking you into the bed, his thighs and his words reorienting your world. You felt so full of him, so precious and receptive and you knew that you might never recover from it, but if he asked you to come again, your body would do it.
“Baby,” you whimpered, and Javy groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” he mumbled into the bed. “Ah, shit, honey, you feel so good. Like you were made for me, to take this cock–oh my god, yes, that’s it, just like that…”
“Take me,” you begged, “Please, Javy, I need–”
“Yes, fuck,” Javy groaned, his thrusts turning frantic. “Kiss me.”
You didn’t know where he found the strength but he surged up to kiss you, pressing your lips together as your bodies writhed together. You pushed and pulled together, breathing from each other and for each other, and the heat burned impossibly hotter between you. You felt light-headed, you felt close and Javy moaned as you tightened around him. You whined against his lips as you came, your orgasm cresting over you, and just moments later, Javy shouted as he came. He was so wonderful, his body thrusting into yours, his hips working you both through it, his groans growing louder as he emptied into you.
It felt right, it felt final, as his warm cum thrust into you, and you turned your head to find him again.
This was a lazy kiss. Indulgent and sloppy, exhausted and messy, and you smiled when you felt Javy come back to you, returning the kiss slowly. You liked that his arms were still around you, that his dick was still inside you. You felt held, treasured, at peace.
You kissed Javy gently, another realization brewing in your mind.
Here, with this man, you felt at home.
//the end
taglist: @laracrofted @mxgyver @callsign-fangirl @cheekymcgrath @blowmymbackout @daggerspare-standingby @javihoney @sebsxphia @princessphilly @roosterforme @rae-gar-targaryen @hangmanssunnies @blckgrl-sunflower @beyondthesefourwalls @callsignspark @sushiwriterhere @taytaylala12 @katiedid-3 @stoptaking-the-good-names @passion-persistence-patienc-blog @hangmanbrainrot
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whatever you’ve been led to believe by journalists and lobbyists, the border issue is not complicated. I used to think it was complicated. it’s not. open borders are evil. because they incentivize the suffering of migrants (slavery, sex trafficking, child abuse, fentanyl peddling, exposure deaths, prolific rape, etc.) and violate the rights and safety of citizens. always. that’s it.
the razor wire is morally good. it disincentivizes the tens of billions of dollars -industry comprising all of the above.
#- HK#respublica#mobile#x#immigration#if you think the razor wire is inhumane give me a better way to disincentivize#the razor wire is not inhumane#if a coyote tears himself open on it that’s his own fault#and for his other crimes (remember crossing the border is a CRIME) I do not pity his wounds
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Random question! Why don’t I see many coydogs that look like their dog parent was some sort of hound or bull breed type? I figure in some areas those types would be more common to find unneutered? Is the coyote flavor just more dominant, or are they somehow only mating with spitzes or shepherds? I’d love to see some with dog traits that are not from ‘wolfy’ breeds if you have any pictures!
I'll answer this in more detail when I'm back in town but I do have a couple examples of coyote x bully type dogs in my research collection.
First off is Zephyr. Compared to normal coyotes she has a very short and wide muzzle. Her ears are small and curled (meaning her ears were likely floppy), and she has a brindle coat color. All of these traits line up with her being a coyote mixed with a bully breed.
Second is this skull of a coyote x APBT mix. The skull was cleaned by the seller so I know the ID is accurate. Like Zephyr, the muzzle is shorter than a normal coyote and has a more defined stop and rounded cranium.
Why these crosses don't seem to be as common is a bit complicated and I'd need to make sure I have all my sources and confirmed coydog photos lined up to fully answer the question. But short version, the coyote genes seem to be dominant in most cases (especially in the face, tails, and coat color) and many "coydogs" online are mislabeled and are coyotes that have dog ancestry with color morphs and other traits that were introduced into the populations.
#ask#you can have coyotes that are like#99% coyote but have color morphs that were introduced into the genepool by dogs#which makes them look like a coydog but it's not like#a literal coyote x dog cross#also it has to do with the differences in mating/gestation/parenting between dogs and coyotes#and which populations/areas the coyotes and dogs are present in
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nothing but a gentleman.
Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x F!Reader
summary: jake is obsessed with you. you eat it up. you’re obsessed with his obsession. but also with him.
t/w: soft!jake, some cursing
"Get out of here, Bagman. You're giving me a headache."
The blonde aviator grabs at his chest. "God, I love it when you're mean to me." Those green eyes sparkle with mischief under the lights of the Hard Deck.
Jake 'Hangman' Seresin has been pining after you for months.
& you have been loving every second of it. Miramar's resident playboy has only had eyes for you. You haven't seen him spare a glance at any of the other ladies in the bar.
Believe me, they've been looking at him.
"Y/n, how long are you going to keep my boy at arm's length?" Coyote asks from the other side of the pool table. Jake saddles up next to him and feeds you the saddest pout he can muster.
"Yeah, y/n, how long?" Jake asks.
Your intention wasn't to drag this hard-to-get play out for so long. Truthfully, it's becoming hard not to give in to those strong arms. To not lean in when he invades your personal space, feeding you a smart ass comment.
Your shoulder comes up to your ear and falls back down. "Hard to say, Bagman."
"Let's play for it," he tells you. Jake saunters over to you, and leans against the pool table. Crossing his arms over his fit chest, he situates his mouth just outside your ear. "If I win, you've gotta give me a kiss, darlin'."
The way his hot breath falls across your ear causes goosebumps to appear down your arms. Jake notices, and a blonde brow raises.
"What are you? Twelve?" you antagonize.
"Oh, honey. I'm willing to try anything at this point."
"Rack 'em. Honey." You lightly shove him back, your hands reacting to the small second they were on his chest.
"If I win, you give it up," you send the man a sad look.
"Give what up?" he asks.
"All this pining'." Your hand gestures wildly around in the air.
For a moment, despair crosses over that handsome face. He recovers quickly. "Oh, I'm not worried."
Jake lets you break. Two stripes fall into the pocket. Jake comes up behind you before your next shot. His hand slides across your waist and he pulls you into his side.
Right as you pull back, Jake leans down. "Don't scratch."
The cueball follows your striped ball into the pocket.
"Damn," he murmurs. It takes a full 45 seconds to get your heart rate under control.
The jig is up once Jake get in control of the pool table. Not only is he the dagger squad's best dart player, he's got the best pool table on lock, too. There is no way he's going to take it easy on you.
Naturally, he doesn't.
"One more and Hangman gets a kiss," he smirks. He doesn't take his eyes off your as he pulls back and send the cue ball sailing.
The eight ball falls into it's intended pocket effortlessly. Followed right by the cue ball.
Shock falls across all your faces. Jake has never lost a game of pool. Ever.
Jake sets the cue stick down, and rounds the table. Standing toe-to-toe with you, he feeds you a delicious smirk.
"Darlin', I ain't gonna make you kiss me if you don't want to. Furthermore, I only want your kiss if its of your own volition." He tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ear.
Your eyes lock with his and the world stops. What a fucking gentleman.
Fisting the front of his shirt, you yank him down to your mouth. Jake relaxes into the kiss immediately and allows his hands to slide around your waist.
Jake takes control, changing the direction and deepening the kiss. Your hands move from his shirt to the nap of his neck, fingers knotting in his hair. His hair that’s gotten just a bit long.
Jake pulls back just a hair, his lips a breath away from yours. “Damn,” he mumbles, again.
“My own volition, huh?”
“I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” he winks. “A gentleman who is dying to kiss you again.”
You guide his lips back to yours.
“Kiss me, Hangman.”
master list.
a/n: been a little while since i wrote for ole jakey. i hope y'all like it!
#top gun maverick#top gun#top gun maverick fic#hangman fic#hangman imagine#hangman x reader#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin fic#jake seresin fanfiction#jake seresin x you#jake seresin
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Vice //
Summary: Bobs one vice in life just so happened to be the very embodiment of what banished Adam from paradise. The human equivalent of that stupid fucking apple that he and Eve ate. You were Bob's forbidden apple: His only vice in life. His guilty pleasure and undoing. You were Jake Seresins little sister.
Warnings: Bob Floyd x F!Seresin!reader. Age gap. Reader is 24. Bob is 35. Smut! 18+ only. Unprotected sex. Oral both male & female receiving. Porn with a slight plot. Star crossed lovers.
Word Count: 5.4k
Author Note: Lewis fucked us all up with this stellar outfit. Now it’s Bobs turn to fuck us.
“You enjoying the party?” Robert Floyd, for the most part, was an enigma of a man. He didn't drink, he didn't smoke, he didn’t gamble or participate in extreme sports. He didn't seem to have any sort of vice or undoing that threatened to short circuit his usually settled persona. His ability to just exist without an urge to go a little off the rails drove Jake Seresin up the wall. “Or at least trying to?” Jake asked as he nudged at Bob's shoulder.
The usually egomaniacal aviator had invited all the Daggers to his family's summer vacation home for a weekend off. And let’s face it—If there was one thing the Seresins knew how to do it was throw a fucking party. And oh boy, did Bob Floyd have a reason to accept that invitation–because unbeknownst to his entire team, the people who knew him better than most, he did in fact have an undoing, he did have a vice.
That vice just so happened to be the very embodiment of what banished Adam from paradise. The human equivalent of that stupid fucking apple that he and Eve ate. You were Bob's forbidden apple: His only vice in life. His guilty pleasure and undoing.
You were Jake Seresins little sister.
“I'm officially Nats personal beverage holder.” Bob replied as he stood with Jake overlooking the deck littered with people dressed in ridiculous neon he didn't know, didn't care to get to know and people he knew of that really didn't seem to know he was there. Except Jake's immediate family, and the Daggers. “But yeah–it's been a good day.” Lies, complete lies. Bob just wanted to go home. He wanted to change out of the ridiculous outfit Phoenix had helped him toss together and just be. His only reasoning behind accepting the invite out to good ol Texas was you.
And much to Roberts Floyds dismay, he hadn’t seen you all day. You weren't present at the Seresin family get together. That was a crime in and of itself, but Bob couldn't blame you for skipping out. Hell he kinda wished he had to.
“Why don't you let your hair down a little?” Jake smirked as he took the beer in Bob's hand and took a swig. It was now his, Phoenix could get another one. “Crack open a beer, kick your feet up?” Jake continued as the sun had begun to set over the waters edge. “You’re off duty, and I won't snitch.”
“I'm good.” Bob smiled softly, this just wasn't his thing. It was clearly Rooster's thing though, he hadn’t stopped all day. He’d been running a complete muck with Coyote for what felt like forever. Bob was pretty impressed the guy was still standing. “I haven't seen your sister around?” Bob tried to play it off as casually as he could, but there was a split second in the silence that followed where Bob thought that his casual curiosity could have been taken as more than just that. “Just noticed she wasn't here, the rest of the Seresin gene pool is.” It was the easiest excuse Bob could have given to throw Hangman off his scent. Jake raised a single brow for a few seconds as he looked at his fellow aviator–trying to decipher if there was more to that statement than met the eye. But as he took another sip of the beer he’d stolen, pondering, he decided Robert Floyd wasn't exactly your type.
“Nah, she's still in Alberta the last time I spoke to her.” Although there was a caution in Jake's tone, he gave Bob the reason behind your absence. “Living the life of the young and the free.” He chuckled to himself softly as he shook his head. You had always been what your family considered a ‘Flight Risk’. Jake understood it, your parents not so much. You were the black sheep, the one out of the three Seresin siblings that didn't have a career plan by the age of fifteen and a scholarship to college by graduation. “Miss her though.” It was then Jake looked at Bob with squinted eyes before he placed the now empty beer bottle back into his hand. “Don't ever tell her I said that.”
Hang on–Was that supposed to be a test? Bob didn't know what to say, so he cleared his throat and shook his head as he pressed his lips together in a fine line. The safest thing to say right now was nothing at all. Play meek. It worked out well enough for him so far.
“Try to at least look like you’re enjoying yourself man.” Jake teased as lovingly as he could before he turned to head on down towards the lake. It really was a beautiful time of year, Bob would at least admit that.
While everyone around him seemed to be overindulging in extracurricular activities that made Bob feel more like a recluse than ever before, he wandered into the lakehouse that could technically be considered a mansion. The place was massive. Made of old pine and oak. He made his way upstairs to the bathroom closest to the room he was sharing with Fanboy and Rooster. He thought he’d hide out for a while, have a shower, decompress, and hopefully find it somewhere inside himself to enjoy the rest of the festivities to come later in the evening.
But as Bob turned the handle on the old wooden door that led into one of the many bathrooms in this mansion-esk lake house the Seresins owned, he was stunned to see you stepping out of the shower in a towel that just barely covered your ass.
“Hey! Do you mind!?” You hissed at the sound of the door opening behind you. Bob's jaw nearly hit the ground with a thud at the sight before him. You were the last person to expect to see here. Especially not even fifteen minutes after Jake had just told him you were still in Alberta. In a whole other country, a million miles away from where he wanted you to be.
Here.
But somehow you were. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a cruel summer after all?
As you turned around to see who had inadvertently forgotten the universal code to knock before entering a closed bathroom to scold whoever it was that intruded on your privacy, your hardened expression of annoyance softened almost immediately as the person standing in the doorway. Not yet in the bathroom, Bob stood still in the hallway silently and in shock. How were you even here right now? Naked in the bathroom after what seemed like a shower? With sopping wet hair and glazed skin.
“Jesus Christ Bob don't you knock!” You hissed as you reached over to pull Bob into the bathroom by the neon muscle-T he wore. Before you shut the door and made sure to lock it, you looked both ways down the hall. Nope, not a single soul was in sight. Good. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Bob's eyes lit up at the sight of you before him. His eyes were clear as baby blue crystals on a good day–but whenever he was looking at you? Robert Floyds eyes let you know where home was.
“What are you doing here?” Bob asked as he watched you walk over to the vanity to continue drying your hair. Holding it to one side as you looked at him in the mirror looking at you. He stood behind you with hands gently holding your hips, thumbing at the fuzzy fabric of the towel that clad your curves. “Your brother just told me you were still in Alberta. I've spent the most of my day looking around for you only to find out you weren't even coming.” A one sided smirk appeared across your face as you watched Bob duck his head to kiss the exposed skin of your neck. He paused against you to take in the aroma of your body wash, Raspberries and Juniper. “But yet here you stand? What gives, kid?”
You and Bob had a complicated thing going. The first time you met the big eyed, bigger hearted Weapons System Officer was at a ceremony acknowledging the efforts and near sacrifices the Daggers had made during the uranium mission that saw your older brother permanently stationed in North Island.
Bob was the cute guy who never took his eyes off you the entire night, he swore he could watch you for hours on end without ever getting tired of the view. You reminded him of someone though, your mannerisms, your laugh, the way you show boated when you won that game of darts against Rooster. That's when the penny dropped.
You were Hangman's little sister. Forbidden and untouchable.
“I heard that a certain detachment team was on the annual invite list and changed my mind last minute.” You explained softly as you held Bob's arms in your own around your waist. His chin fell to your shoulder as he held you tight to his chest. Looking at you looking at him through the mirror in front of you. “I missed you.”
“Is there a reason why you’re out here in the cold instead of inside where the party is, Lieutenant?” Bob heard a voice coming from behind him as he looked out over the back deck of the Hard Deck. he just needed some fresh air to wrap his mind around the fact he thought a Seresin was stunning.
“You must be the famous sister we’ve all heard so much about?” Bob replied as he watched you come to stand beside him, fishing out one of those stupid vape things Fanboy had told him about from your back pocket. “Hangman talks highly of you.” Bob's eyes lingered on the way you held it to your lips, he watched as you inhaled, held, pulled the contraption away from your glossed lips and gestured it out for him to take as you blew the excess away.
“Reluctantly, that's me.” You admitted. “You’re Lieutenant Floyd.” Bob's heart skipped a beat when you said his name. He wanted to ask you how you knew but his expression must have given it away because through a soft chuckle of your own you answered the question on the tip of his tongue before he even had to ask. “It's pinned to your jacket.” Right.
“Those things will kill you ya know.” Bob smiled softly as he watched you take another hit as you looked out over the railing, leaning against it with your elbows. “Aren't you worried?”
“As opposed to flying F-18’s into enemy territory on highly classified missions?” You shot back through a teasing smile before you pocketed the thing you knew you should probably give up before it became an addiction. “We all die soon enough Lieutenant Floyd, living in the moment is more my speed.”
“Bob.” Bob replied with a soft smile. “You sound like your brother, but please, call me Bob.” There was a moment of silence shared between the two of you before you looked the aviator up and down with a knowing eye. Before Bob knew what he was doing, he was following you down the steps towards his car, he was the designated driver for the evening for Phoenix, Rooster and Payback. But after you leaned in to whisper in his ear the hottest thing he'd ever heard– Bob venmoed them all enough to cover a taxi.
“Well Bob, Bob Floyd, do you wanna get out of here?”
“Yes Ma’am.” Bob knew it was wrong, but he swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded to your request. He did want to get out of there, with you. Yes. He’d never wanted to get out of somewhere more in his life. You were gorgeous.
You snuck in through Bobs garden gate every night that summer just to seal your fate.
“I missed you too.” Bob held your gaze in the mirror as his hand began to wonder. You didn't stop him from exploring, but your graze broke from his as you watched his slightly callioused and large hand roam down the expanse of your towel clad pelvis. Slowly, seductively, all the while he broke from looking at you to kiss the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “You stopped texting me?” It was a question disguised as a statement, but you knew Bob wanted an explanation to your sudden lack of contact. It had been just shy of two entire months. “You miss me but you stopped texting me? That's a little contradictory, don't you think kiddo?”
“I was trying to get over you.” Whimpers, that’s what your words came out like as your head fell back against Bob's exposed shoulder. His hand kept exploring—lower and lower until finally he was peeling up the fuzzy fabric of your towel. Creeping between your legs right where you wanted him. “You’re my brother’s—“ Before you could explain that you felt sick of yourself for crossing the line with Bob, his fingers were delicately and deliberately slipping past your slick folds as your knees nearly gave in. You had to reach up and out around Bob's necks to steady yourself. Your breath caught in your throat as Bob's nimble fingers worked to slowly yet oh so perfectly tantalise your sensitive bundle of nerves.
“I’m not your brother's anything.” Bob growled in your ear. You brought out a primal instinct in the Weapons System Office not a single soul but yourself had ever seen. “You ghosted me.”
“You’re thirty five.” It wasn’t enough of an excuse not to fuck you. Again that was. Over and over and over again.
“And you feel twenty something.” Bob smirked against your shoulder. The same shoulder he worked to mark up. “How old are you again?”
“Twenty four—“ It came out barely above a whisper as you spread your legs a little wider as Bob spread your pussy apart. Circling the very spot he knew was your undoing. Its only purpose in life was to bring pleasure, that sensitive bundle of nerve endings. “Bob—“ You breathed as he snaked his supporting arm up from around your waist to untuck the white towel that had been hiding your perfect silhouette from him. It had been far too long for Bob's liking. “We shouldn’t—“ But Devils roll the dice and angels roll their eyes. What didn’t kill you made you want him more. “We really shouldn’t.”
That fact was a no brainer. Bob knew he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be here in the bathroom of one of the most extravagant lake houses he’d ever seen. He shouldn’t be hiding away with you, Hangman's little sister, with the pads of two of his fingers dancing over your clit as you wither away in his warm embrace. He shouldn’t be obsessed with the way you sound trying to contain the whimpers that threaten to escape you as your arousal coats his digits.
Bob shouldn’t have slept with you the first night he met you. He shouldn’t have slept with you in the days and weeks that followed. He shouldn’t have felt the way you came around his length like you’d never felt an orgasm before. He shouldn’t have laughed when you told him you were starting to catch feelings—and Bob definitely shouldn’t have told you that he may or may not have been falling in love with you. Because that’s the last time he heard from you before you ghosted him.
Bob knew he shouldn’t. But he was going to over and over and over again because he only had one vice. One undoing.
You.
“Tell me to stop and I will.” Bob groaned as he stopped his taunting ways and spun you around to face him. The sudden loss of satisfaction made you pout, but when Bob shifted you up onto the vanity as he stood firmly between you legs, that pout vanished rather quickly. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll walk away. I’ll go back downstairs to that shitty party.” For a moment Bob reverted back into his normally reserved self. He ducked his head so your gaze couldn’t match his own. “I only came here with the hope in mind you’d be here.”
It made your heart skip a beat inside your chest. You really liked Bob. He was kind and compassionate and he listened to you when you spoke, he didn’t just stand there and nod. Pretending. He valued your smile and your laugh and unlike your brother who gave him chronic headaches on his best days—Bob seemed to like the time he spent with you. He couldn’t get enough of you.
“I want you.” Was all you said before you were fisting your palms into the fabric of Bob's muscle-T. Since when had he gotten so big? Bob wasn’t this big when you last saw him. His arms were the size of tree trucks now. You would have remembered that. “I’ve never not wanted you.” It felt so wrong but oh so right to admit as you pulled Bob's shirt up and over his head before you tossed it away. Forgetting its existence. “I'm sorry I ghosted you, it’s just you’re my brothers—“ Before you could finish your sentence Bob's lips were on yours in a feaverish kiss that took your breath away. His hands cupped at your cheeks to keep you close before he wrapped his digits into the mess of wet hair behind your head.
“We all die soon enough, living in the moment is more my speed.” Bob interrupted as your eyes glazed over his, searching for any ounce of regret he might have. “Where’d that version of you go? The one who didn't care?”
“She died when I started falling in love with you.” It was enough to send Bob over the edge as he drank in the sight of you. All his for the taking as he caressed your cheek with one hand. “That's why I left, you told me you loved me and I knew I loved you back and that's crazy, this, is crazy Robert.” Trying to deny inevitable feelings was never a good idea. All it did was cause chaos and suffering for both parties involved. “You can't love me, and I can't love you, it'll never work and my brother will kill you. He’ll delete you off the face of the earth!” You tried to smile through the tears that threatened to spill very momentarily. “And I don't know about you, Bob, but I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Bob cooed as he ran the pad of his thumb across your lower lips. “Right now though? I just wanna be with you.” With gentle hands you worked at the belt buckle that was cinched around Bob's waist. Looped around the jean shorts he wore that made his outfit all the more atrocious. “I've missed you, missed everything about you.”
“Well Lieutenant–” You teased as you discarded Bob's belt to the side, it landed on top of the muscle-T he’d once been wearing as you slowly worked to unzip his fly. “Now seems like as good a time as any to get acquainted.” Bob's lips were once again on yours in a needy lust filled kiss the second he could break his gaze from your beautiful eyes. His hands were all over you, exploring your curves and dips as you sunk your hand into his boxer briefs. Palming him off as his soft moans echoed against the back of your throat.
“Oh god–” Bob choked out as you worked your fist up and down his erection, standing to full attention and straining against the confines of his shorts. “Baby, baby I'm dying here.” It was all mumbled into your mouth as Bob continued his assault on your mouth, his tongue danced with yours expertly like it hadnt been two entire months since he’d last seen or felt you. “Let me get these pants off.”
With a giddy grin that expanded ear to ear you pulled back so that you could watch Bob shimmy out of his jorts. He was a sight that made your mouth water. Since when did he get so fucking big?
“You've been working out?” You asked to fill the silence that filled the bathroom. Bob hopped around on one foot for a second as he tried to rid himself of the remaining articles of clothing that still adorned his body.
“Yeah well it was either that or through myself a pity party because the woman I admitted my love to up and vanished into thin air.” Bob huffed as he stood up straight, completely naked and exposed in front of you. “So yeah, I worked out, alot.”
“How's your cardiac output?” You teased as you watched him step closer to where he’d left you on the vanity, pumping his hardened length a few times as he did so. “Because I’m in real need of a good fuck.” Bob's cheeks flushed a crimson hume at the way you spoke to him. He loved it, no one ever spoke to him the way you did. So open and free. “Make me feel good Lieutenant.” You pleaded through a needy whine as you felt Bob pull you forward by your hips. Lining you up with the tip of his shaft. Teasing your entrance as he slid his tip between your folds, collecting your arousal with every move. The sexual tension was enough foreplay for the both of you. “Bob, please.”
With one motion, Bob was pressing himself inside you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Drawing him in as close as you could pull him as every inch of him slowly disappeared inside you. It felt heavenly, you felt full, complete.
“Ohh fuck–” You gasped when Bob bottom out and pressed his forehead to yours. “God did your dick get bigger too?” Bob chuckled at your remark as he remained still inside you, giving you a second to breathe and stretch to his girth. He had always loved the sight of your pretty and perfect pussy full of his cock.
“Not that I've noticed.” Bob smiled as he kissed you before slowly pulling out a few inches only to push himself back in. working up a slick rhythm that made the pair of you lose all sense of any consequence that may come of your impromptu rendezvous. “You’re perfect, so perfect for me aren't you baby?” It felt like heaven and hell all at once.
“Missed your cock.” You whined as Bob picked up the pace enough that it had your jaw dropping and your eyes rolling. “Oh god feels so fucking good.” You could feel the grip Bob had on your hips as he fucked into you–manouvering your body just enough that when his balls slapped against the curve of your ass his tip kissed your cervix. “Ahh–”
“Shh–” Bob pressed the palm of his hand across your mouth to silence your screams. “Do you want someone to find us?” He asked as he picked up the pace. Fucking you hard. “Do you want your brother finding out who fucks you this good? That you like older men? Is that what you want, baby? For him to catch us in the act so you don't have to tell him?” Your lungs felt like they had been ignited from the lack of oxygen as Bob kept his hand across your mouth and pressed up against your nose. It felt otherworldly, being manhandled like this, dominated.
Bob didn't dominate at anything in life. But he sure did dominate in the bedroom.
“Let me get a taste of you gorgeous.” Bob groaned as he pulled out of your fucked out cunt, watching as your arousal dripped out and down to your ass. He dropped down to lick a nice line up your pussy—collecting anything you’d give him as he settled around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Shaking his head all the while his glasses fogged.
“Ahhh! Fuck! Bob!” Your legs shook as your hand flew down to grip at Bob's hair, slightly damp from swimming, slightly dry from the heat of the sun he’d once been in. Now? He was between your legs, enjoying his favourite meal.
Bob lapped away at your dripping core for what felt like an eternity. You weren’t going to complain about it either as you pulled at his hazel locks and let your legs drape over his strong shoulders. You wanted so badly to say it out loud. Your heart was near bursting out of your chest with need to scream it to the heavens as Bons eyes met yours from between your legs. So you said it.
"I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?” Bob looked up grinning like a devil.
“So sweet, you’re like candy.” Bob's chin was coated as he came up for air, you were so close. “Let’s see how pretty you look when you cum all over my fingers.”
“Please, please—“ You were so desperate to feel that familiar release. “Bob, I wanna cum for you.” With lustful baby blue eyes that seemed three shades darker he slipped two fingers inside you. Coaxing you forward in a come here motion. Knowing exactly what to do and when to do it to send you hurtling towards you first, but certainly not your last orgasm. “Ahhh fuck! Yes—yess!”
“Oh I can feel you clenching around my fingers baby, why don’t you show me how pretty you look when you cry?” Bob knew you were standing on the edge with the way you were clinging to him. “Come on darlin’ don’t get all shy oh my now, cum of me.” It was as if your body knew who it belonged to as your feet rose and your legs shook. “Yeah that’s it, cum for me you filthy girl.” Bob growled as he watched your jaw slack. Your eyes began to roll into the back of your head as your chest puffed towards him. He pumped his fingers in and out of you so expertly that he had you gushing. Crying out his name like a perfect symphony.
“Bob, Bob, ohhh fuck Bob!” Bob grinned ear to ear as he watched you cum, watched your entire body burn from his touch and only his. There wasn’t another man on earth who could make you come alive like Robert Floyd could.
He fingered you through it, waiting until you were steady and breathing through it. Your back pressed against the mirror in an attempt to support yourself as Bob moved away to turn on the shower.
Steam immediately began filling the bathroom that smelled of sex and need. You didn’t need any more time to come down from your high as Bob came back over to you with a naughty look in his eye.
“What are you up to Floyd?” You giggled as Bob scooped you up off the vanity and carried you into the shower. Warm water rained down over the pair of you as Bob connected his lips to yours, pressing your back up against the cool tiles as you sunk low on his length. Taking him with ease as he slowly bucked his hips.
“Just taking care of you.” Bob mumbled as he supported your weight up against the wall. Fucking into you like you were his personal sex toy. “Love being inside you, so tight and perfect, all for me.”
Bob was quick to change his angle, he wanted to feel all of you, give you all that he could. As your tongues fought for dominance against one another Bob hooked his arms up under your knees and held your still. Bucking his hips into you with so much force it knocked the breath right out of your lungs.
“Ahhh fuck oh my god—!”
“Shhh, shhh I got you baby I’ve got you.” Bob smirked to himself. He loved the way you came completely undone for him. “You look so pretty like this, all fucked out with nowhere to run, I could keep you up like this all night.” That Bob could, the way his arms were glistening from the water pouring over you made you clench around him. He was big, bigger than ever before. “Oh god if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum.”
“Wanna taste it.” You mumbled as Bob fucked into you. “You’re cum, I wanna taste your cum.” Bob had to refrain from filling you up then and there. The way you said it with such a needy little whine had him just about ready to burst. “Please—please Lieutenant.” There was also something about the way you’d call him Lieutenant from time to time that also got Bob all hot and bothered. It was different with you, you made his official rank into something that could be used as sexual gratification. “Let me taste you.”
As Bob helped you get your feet down on the ground, Jake was in search of another bottle of tequila he could distribute shots with. Surprising, the house was empty—he thought he was the only one inside until he heard the unmistakable sounds of a man who was under the influence of sexual desire.
“Who’s that?” Hake chuckled to himself as he raced up the stairs, curiosity getting the better of him. As he reached the top of the stairs, Jake heard the unmistakable sound of running water through old pipes, mixing together with desperate moans.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, just like that darlin’ feels so good the way you're taking my dick down your throat right now.” Bob threw his head back as he held the back of your head with a splayed out palm. Helping to guide you up and down his shaft. “Gonna cum do that pretty throat of yours—“ Jake thought he was hearing things when he stopped outside the bathroom door. He swore he could hear Bob Floyd inside that bathroom. It couldn’t be, could it?
“Missed your cock so much— You giggled as you pumped your fist up and down Bob's shaft as he verged closer and closer to his high as you looked up at him. “Probably more than you missed me and my pretty pussy.” And that’s when Jake had to hold back the pride he felt for Baby Bob so it could make room for the rage that flooded his body in the moments that followed.
“Shut it Seresin, keep suckin’ me off baby I’m so goddamn close.” Bob guided you head back to the tip of his cock that he tapped against your awaiting tongue. You took him down your throat with ease, gagging as he held you still with your nose brushing against his perfectly trimmed tamed pubic hair. “Ohhhh I’m there, I’m so there!” Bob groaned as he felt his orgasm pooling at the base of his shaft. “I’m gonna cum! Arghh—!”
Jake felt a rage he’d never felt before bubble up inside his chest. He had never felt such a betrayal, Bob with his baby sister, with you. You were off limits to everyone—Jake always had his money secretly on Coyote since he’d known you the longest but Bob? The fucking WSO!? No. Not happening, or at least it won’t be happening again.
“Oh god I’m cumming—shit shit shit shit!” Bob pulled his throbbing cock from your mouth as you gasped for much needed hair. He tipped you forehead back as you opened your mouth and welcomed the hot spurts of cum that coated your face. Washing away under the fall of the shower head. “Fucckkk—look at you baby, so pretty coated in all my cum.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~
“For the record?” Bob held you close to his chest as you stood before the fogged up mirror once again. Showered and wrapped back up in a fresh towel. “I’d keep secrets just to keep you.” He sighed as he kissed your temple, dressed and ready to join the party once again. Knowing that you wouldn’t be too far behind him. “I’ll see you soon?”
“See you soon Bobby.” Just as Bob chuckled to himself and opened the bathroom door, an enraged Jake Seresin lunged at Robert Floyd, throwing a single punch that landed right against Bob's cheek that sent him down towards the ground with a thud. “BOB!” You gasped as you held your towel to your chest and raced to his aid as he groaned. “Jake! You ass hole! What the hell is your problem!”
“Consider that a fucking warning Floyd.” Jake scoffed as he shook his throbbing hand. He’d been waiting outside the bathroom ever since he came upstairs. “Stay the hell away from my sister.” Jake spat as he walked away, leaving Bob a heap on the floor of the bathroom as you cradled him in your lap. Fuck.
Yep. It was definitely going to be a cruel summer.
****************************
#bob floyd x reader#robert bob floyd smut#bob floyd smut#top gun bob#bob top gun#hangman top gun#bob floyd x female reader#robert bob floyd imagine#robert bob floyd fanfiction
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The Hat Rule
Pairing: Cowboy!Ghost x Fem!Reader
Pronouns used: She/Her
Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, smut, cowboy hat rule, acquaintances to lovers, p in v, cussing, unprotected!sex, cowboy au, very self-indulgent heheh.
Summary: Visiting your Grandparent's farm leads to an honest mistake with the hot cowboy that worked there.
Oftentimes you would visit your grandparents on their farm out in the country. Not out of the kindness of your heart, not because you missed them truly and loved them, but because of a certain cowboy who took care of the ranch.
His name was ‘Ghost’, at least around the ranch it was, his real name was Simon. And oh boy was he intoxicating, plain and simple. Something about his brooding and seriousness had a certain weight on you that seeped straight to your core. He was the one thing exciting about the valley your Grandfather’s ranch resided in, kept things lively, and kept you coming back. Though these feelings festered not much was exchanged between the two of you. It was a crush, even when you desired more.
Upon a late afternoon, you found yourself on the porch of the ranch house, enjoying the sunset and breeze and taking in the beauty of the land. The mountains surrounding the valley gave a feeling of peaceful isolation like you were separated from the stress of the world. You closed your eyes to enjoy the moment when you heard a familiar voice call out to you.
“Enjoying some fresh air, city girl?” Ghost chuckled, not that he needed to, you could just hear his smirk in the baritone levels of his voice.
Gazing up at Ghost, you saw him leaning against one of the beams that supported the porch with his arms crossed. His dark blue button-up was rolled to his elbows which exposed muscled forearms and a sleeve tattoo on his left arm. God. Was he TRYING to give you a heart attack?
“Oh 'cause we don’t get enough in the suburbs right?” You smirked, enjoying the start of some usual casual banner. “I’ll have you know the 'fresh air’ here smells like cow shit.”
Ghost’s eyes crinkled and chuckled slowly, “You got me there. Yet you keep coming back, must love it then?” His eyes flickered with a curious emotion you hadn’t seen before.
When your eyes widened at being put on the spot, you felt like you made a mistake, like you accidentally revealed all your secrets. Quickly your face reverted into an appeasing smile, “Got me there. I just love it here.”
Ghost hummed as he pushed off the beam and kicked at the dirt with the heel of his boot. He looked out the horizon like he was scanning the land before he spoke once more.
“Got to get back to work, you’d best head inside when it gets dark. Coyotes like to linger ‘ere.” He huffed while glancing back down to you. You couldn’t help but get the feeling he was disappointed with something you said, which was unbearable alone in itself but the fact he gave you a curfew felt like he saw you as just his boss’s grandkid.
“Wow, you’re giving me a curfew now, are you? Should I start calling you Daddy too?” The minute the words left your mouth you widened your eyes and dutifully slapped your mouth before staring up at him. Sometimes your intrusive thoughts won, and sometimes you wanted to jump the nearest bridge. “I- I didn't mean to say that.”
Ghost cut you off with a deep laugh, it sounded like heaven to you, “Fucking hell, kid. Yeah yeah sure, call me what you want, now go get your pretty ass inside and eat all your greens too.” He gave you a once over as you rushed inside with a reddened face, his eyes lingering on your ass and the jeans that clung to your curves in every right way. The front door shut and you disappeared from his sight. “Fucking hell doll..” He groaned.
_____
That night you lay in your bed with your face in the pillow, groaning with embarrassment. Ghost called you kid! How patronizing was that? Not only that but your loose lips ran you into the third most embarrassing event in your life.
Yet another thought lingered. He called you pretty, didn't he? He also didn’t seem put off by the comment so maybe…
Your thoughts led your mind into the dark depths of your imagination, your name on his lips, teeth nibbling at your skin, him and his body pressing down on you. Into you. Your hand trailed down your abdomen and past the hem of your panties as your mind wandered. Rubbing the already slick folds between your thighs you imagined his tongue trailing over your curves. How his hand would grab onto your ass, maybe even slap it. Would he be rough like you dreamed? Gentle? You let out a sigh as your fingers slide into your pussy and slowly pump in and out. It wasn’t enough anymore, the need and desire building more as you kept your whimpers silenced, aware of the way the old walls could echo in weird ways. The last thing you needed was your Grandparents hearing you getting off by imagining their ranch hand. Biting back an annoyed sigh, you glide your hands out of your core. It just wasn’t enough. You wanted him.
Finally, enough was enough, tomorrow you decided to make a move on him.
_______
By the grace of the universe, your Grandpa asked you to deliver a saddle that was shipped to the house and not the bunkhouse. It was a perfect opportunity. Now if your anxiety could just go along with the plan then it’d be great.
Luckily you didn't have to carry the hefty saddle down to the bunkhouse and were given the keys to the golf cart. The drive did little to ease your mind, the wind rolling along the tall grass and livestock chittering in the distance added noise to that busy mind of yours. The bunkhouse itself was built like a nice cabin, sizable enough to host a large group of people and close enough to the pastures for convenience. The neighs of horses nickering in the nearby stables covered the footsteps of someone approaching you.
“That the saddle your folks ordered?” Ghost asked, making you gasp and nearly drop the leather item from your hands but he reached around and grabbed it to keep it from falling.
“Fuck you scared the shit outta me!” You grumbled while casting him a glare over your shoulder. He smirked and tipped his hat to you which somehow just annoyed you more. Your hand reached up and yanked the cowboy hat from his head with a huff, as you put it on you took another look at the saddle. “Yeah that’s it, it’s pretty hefty, glad I got the golf cart, otherwise carrying it down would’ve been a pain.” You sighed and turned your body to Ghost.
The intensity of his gaze startled you, had you done something wrong? Did you say something offensive? “What’s wrong?” Your voice came out in a hushed tone, nervous as to what he would say.
He smirked, shaking his head and taking a step closer to you which made you take an initial step back into the golf cart. His grip on the saddle loosened until it flopped onto the seat again.
“The hat,” Ghost started with a purr, placing his hands on the top of the golf cart and looking into your eyes, “you’re a clever minx aren’t you…”
Was this all about the hat? Maybe it was special to him, otherwise what the fuck was he talking about?
“Oh I am sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” You began to lift the hat from your head when his hand caught your wrist.
“Do you know the rule about those there hats? About taking one from a cowboy and wearing it?” The husky accented drawl of his voice set your skin on fire and your eyes drifted to his lips then to his eyes.
“No… I don’t. what did I do wrong?” You couldn’t help but frown, assuming you might’ve broken some sacred cowboy superstition.
“Take the hat… means you gotta ride,” Ghost held your chin and pulled you close, “And it doesn’t require a saddle or reins… just me.” He tilted his head and watched your expression carefully for any resistance or disgust.
“WHAT!? I didn’t know that though!” A blush captured your cheeks as you covered your face. You did know yet happened to forget, you heard rumors about it when your friends were joking about a cute country guy on a night out.
Ghost seemed pleased with your response and pulled you away from the cart. “Well, it’s too late now, little lady.” He mused, his smile turning sly as he tossed you over his shoulder. “You gotta play by the rules like a good girl.” He laughed while taking you in the direction of the barn.
“Ghost- wait! Hey, put me down!” You thumped your fist into his back, you could feel your face flushed with embarrassment and hoped that no one could see y’all. Ghost continued to carry you, smirking when you lightly punched his back and delivered a slap to your ass in return.
“You have on the hat and now you must pay the price.” He taunted, walking towards the inside of the barn and kicking the door shut behind him.
The cowboy placed you down in the middle of the barn, the two of you alone. “You get a free ride... literally.” Ghost added, leaning against a wooden beam and crossing his arms. His gaze never strayed from your lips as they parted to form a sentence. The embarrassment took away your voice and as you tried to form words, you took the time to scan the surroundings of the cruddy barn filled with grain and hay bales. It wasn’t much of a secret around the ranch that you had a crush on Ghost, no matter how good you thought you hid it.
Rolling his shoulders back, he studied your form, a smirk tugging on his lips as he took a few steps towards you. He placed a gentle hand on your hip, his fingers squeezing your flesh as he looked down at you. “I know you have a big crush on me, sugar…” He whispered, his tone sending chills up your spine. “So, here’s your free ride…” Ghost cooed, his eyes glimmering as his other hand wrapped around the nape of your neck.
This was your chance, everything you wanted and more. Hell would freeze over before giving up an opportunity like this. So you leaned close, just to get a taste of him finally. Then he smiled and brought his hand away from your neck to cup your cheek and pulled you close until your lips came crashing together.
The yearning that was simmering in his soul was infecting, reaching to your heart and seeping into your core. He burned, in every way passion could burn, he searched your body like a temple of god, your lips his salvation. Ghost devoted his tongue to yours as he deepened the kiss, when he pulled away slightly his breath was labored.
“You're the only thing on my mind recently...” He whispered.
The corners of your mouth skewed into a smile. “You’re the reason I keep coming back out here.” You admitted, licking your lips to taste the remnants of him.
Something about that answer made Ghost snap, he pulled you flush against him by your wrists as he kissed you once more. He licked your bottom lip before fully exploring your tongue with his. His hands squeezed your hips a final time before he lifted you and placed you on a sturdy barrel. Ghost stepped between your legs and parted them, one hand massaging your thigh softly while the other worked on unlatching his belt buckle.
“You want this? Wanted me so bad didn’t ya, sweet thing?” Ghost purred as he slowly began to inch his jeans down to reveal the hardened outline of his cock. It made you suck in a breath which caused him to chuckle. “You can take it, you're my sweet tough girl aren’t you?” He pecked your cheek with a soft kiss and finally let his jeans fall to his ankle.
“Ghost… please..” You breathed, peering up at him through your haze. Your core was weeping in want, just begging to be ravaged and filled. You pulled him tight against your body with your legs around his waist, the imprint of his dick grinding against the jeans you wore.
Ghost let out a groan and kissed you again, his body pressed against you some more while he fiddled with the buttons of your pants and tugged them down. He flashed his canines in his smile while gazing at you with a burning lust. “I’ve been so damn eager for this, and I know you have too… the way you’ve been watching me, stalking me. Sweet girl… you think I didn’t notice?” He whispered and placed his hands on either side of your hips, his eyes baring down at you had an effect that made him feel imposing and larger than life.
“Well, I certainly can tell you’re eager.” You teased him and rolled your hips against his just to feel the firm imprint of his dick begging to be freed. Ghost chuckled as he grabbed your hips, pulling you to the edge of the barrel.
"I'm glad you can feel that..." He whispered as his fingers hooked the belt loop of your jeans. "It's... been itching to get out." With one swift motion, he pushed your jeans down your legs before tossing them onto the barn floor. Ghost admired your body from where he stood, his hands rubbing the soft flesh of your thighs. He loved how they smushed against the barrel and parted for him. His eyes looked over your body like a present as he slowly began to unbutton your blouse and fondle your curves. The shirt fell and bunched at your wrists and he couldn’t help but kiss you again. “God… you’re perfect.”
“Ghost…” You breathed and looked up at him through your eyelashes, giving him a slight head tilt and smile. His eyes darkened and in a swift maneuver, he had sat on the barrel with you in his lap. You yelped and gripped the hat on your head with one hand, the other on his shoulder as you stared at him with wide eyes.
“I want you screaming my name. So call me Simon, baby… Now Ride,” Simon demanded.
“Say please.” You chided.
The man huffed but wrapped his arms around your waist and set his chin on your chest. “Please, babydoll?” He muttered gruffly.
Something about turning such a burly man into a stubborn pleading mess made you grin. “Lemme help you then…” you whispered into his ear, easing your hips and sliding your underwear to the side. From your vantage point, you could see the way his eyes fixed on your wet cunt and the way he licked his lips.
“Already so wet for me, aren’t ya?” Simon chuckled and rolled his boxers down until his cock sprung free.
“Already so hard for me, aren’t you?” You mimicked but were busy with gawking at his size.
Fuck.
Simon’s smoky tone captured your attention once more. “It’ll be alright love, we can make it fit..” he coaxed, rubbing circles into your hips. “Just take it inch by inch, yeah?”
You gave him a slow nod and glanced down to align yourself to him, gliding him between your folds. With a sharp inhale you slowly began to sink into him. Biting your lip, you make eye contact with Simon who looks at you gently, letting you take your time.
Just as a little more than the tip pushed in, a hushed moan came from Simon. Giving it a few more adjustments you soon hit the base of his cock and shivered at the feeling, a soft whine sounded from your throat as you winced at the stretch.
“Just give it a second, you’re doing so well.” He groaned, placing his hands on your waist to massage the skin gently. Simon slowly began to move his hips, pulling back small amounts before sliding fully in again. He waited as your expression began to shift into one with pleasure, your soft moans and the slick of your cunt being the only noise in the barn. “Yeah, there you go. Such a good girl.” He coaxed, slowly adding to the pace he set.
You moaned out his name and he gave a kiss to your cheek as he worked you open. While you got used to the feeling your hips slowly matched his. Simon let out a moan as your body began to grind against him, his fingers gripping onto your ass as you rode him. "Oh, god..."
His body tensed under yours as he held back strained moans, his fingertips dug into your thighs as he looked at you with complete lust and desire. placed a hand onto your chest and leaned up to your ear as he spoke.
"You're a natural, guess our lessons paid off… or maybe, you’re just a dirty girl.” His hand wrapped around your neck in a gentle yet firm caress, he pressed his thumb down along your throat just enough to get a depraved noise. “Which one is it, sweetheart?”
“Fuck ‘round n find out,” You smirked and clamped down on him with a strangled moan, adding, “You taught me well. It’s about time I put my skill to something worthy.”
Simon leaned his head back and closed his eyes as you began to grind your hips down onto him. You switched between fucking yourself on his cock and drawing circles with your movements. He thrusted into you now and then, as if reminding you that he was still in charge.
“Shit baby… That’s it, just like that.” He groaned, jutting his hips up harshly which caused you to yelp and clench around him. With the way he started to get desperate, you could tell he was getting close. You threw your head back and whimpered as you rode his cock. The feeling was unlike anything felt before and it was like the deepest parts of your soul were being reached. Simon’s breathing grew heavy and his mouth hung open as he panted for air. His fingertips dug deeper into your thighs as his head leaned backward once more. He grunted as his body tensed up, and his other hand came to your cheek as his eyes closed. "Come on, baby..." He muttered to you, his breaths hitting against your neck.
Feeling your climax slowly build, you moved your hips at a faster pace. Simon held onto your waist, aiding you with his thrusts. You both closed your eyes as you kissed, syncing together to chase the other’s highs with passionate instinct. “Fuck. I am so close, Si.” You gasped, your eyes rolling back at the way he reached your cervix.
Simon let out a muffled moan as he felt you twitching around him, your cunt clenching tighter around him as the two of you kissed, his hand left your hip and he slowly let his it drift to your thigh, his fingertips digging into your soft skin with every thrust. He groaned and slammed his hips into you before cumming with you.
"I should have thought about the cowboy rule with you a long time ago..." He chuckled softly, still feeling the pleasure of you surrounding him.
“I should’ve taken your damn hat a long time ago..” You mirrored with a soft laugh, hissing as a full-body spasm shot up your spine and clenched around him, overstimulated from the recent orgasm that made your brain go hazy. “Mmm... Did you cum inside?”
Ghost looked up at you with a smirk, his teeth slightly bared as he spoke to you. "I might have..." He chuckled softly. He trailed his hand up and down your waist leaning close so the two of you were close together, he whispered in your ear, "I might have..." He repeated himself once more, his voice a murmur which made his breath hot against your ear.
You nodded and leaned against him in a limp-like fashion, exhausted from the work done. Simon let out a small hum of pleasure as you leaned into him. He placed a hand on your cheek and pulled you toward him, your mouths meeting in another kiss. "I needed you.” He mumbled, his lips meeting yours once more in a deep kiss.
Between the sweet and deep kisses, you replied, “Mmm- we should do this often.”
"I like the sound of that..." Simon mumbled against your lips, his breaths hitting against your skin as he kissed you along your jaw. "Whenever you want it," He said to you softly, his fingers beginning to trail down your cheeks, "Just come find me anytime on the ranch.... I'll give you the best ride of your life..." He smirked, still holding onto you but slowly beginning to pull you off him.
You helped him with getting up, raising your hips, and blushing when you felt his cum drip out and down your thighs. Simon’s breath hitched as he saw the essence seep out of you, his gaze slowly drifting down to your body and taking in every inch of it. He smirked, his fingers trailing down your stomach to your thighs. He chuckled, "You're a mess, doll." He pulled up his cowboy jeans and took a deep breath. "You need anything from me right now, Sweetheart?... Some water? A towel for your body?" He spoke to you softly as he looked at you.
You pressed your thighs together to stop the juices from seeping out of your cunt, bending forward to pick up your underwear and shimmy it on. “No I don’t need anything, I am fine thank you.”
Ghost nodded, and with a deep breath, he put on his cowboy hat as he watched you bend down to pick your clothes up off the barn floor. "I'll uh.... just wait outside and give you some time to yourself to clean up" He chuckled softly, looking away as he did so. He stepped outside the barn and leaned up against the side of the building, looking at a few horses as he sighed and closed his eyes.
After a few minutes, you joined him approaching him with a slight limp, and stood next to him, glancing at the scenery. Your appearance was fixed up though any mascara you had on previously was slightly smudged on the corners of the eyes. “That was nice.” you began.
Ghost looked over at you as you stood next to him. He smiled and looked back up at the horses as you spoke. "It was, yeah." He chuckled and turned around to look at you for a moment. "I'm glad you came to see me." He said to you, his tone a bit quieter and more serious than usual. Ghost looked down at the floor for a moment, his expression a bit more pensive than normal. "So... you want to... do that again... sometime?" He sighed and looked down at his boots, his face hidden by the cowboy hat. "No pressure, though. I won’t press for more if you don’t want that.”
You cut him off with a laugh shaking your head. “No, I want more!” You coughed and spoke a bit more calmly and casually. “I mean- I like you and uh.. it would be nice to stay close...”
Ghost met your eyes and smiled, pulling you into a hug. “Sure thing, baby.”
#call of duty#cod x reader#cod mw2#cod modern warfare#mw2 smut#mw2#mw2 x reader#mw2 fanfic#cod mw x reader#ghost mw2#ghost x reader#ghost simon riley#call of duty x reader#ghost call of duty#call of duty mw2#cod smut#modern warfare smut
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Coyote Kiss
(Philip Graves x F! Reader)
(Call of Duty Masterlist)
Rating: Explicit, MDNI
Wordcount: 3.1k
Tags: Brat Tamer Graves, Bratty Reader, Motorcycle Graves, Date night, Banter, Bickering, Love/Hate Relationship, Messy relationships, Jealousy
Warnings: None
A/N: Hi. Here's more of the man I love to hate and hate to love. Forgive me.
He’s smirking at you.
There’s a low, fluorescent buzz to the diner amidst the distant sounds of the kitchen, the gurgle of the coffee machine behind the counter. You and Graves are tucked in a booth, far from the door, where the neon light of the ‘open’ sign catches against the shiny leather of his motorcycle jacket. There’s tinny music over the speakers, the 80’s you think, not entirely sure. You know if you try and guess Graves will only huff at you, correct you and lament about your poor music knowledge.
Smartass.
You can feel the toes of his boots brush against your ankles, and even though you aren’t looking at him you know he’s just waiting for you to comment on it, nudge him out of your space with mild annoyance. Instead you focus on the various laminated displays of greasy food inside the menu, burying your face so you ignore him. Yet even without looking you know exactly how he looks. Relaxed into his seat, arms crossed, head tilted in keen observation, and that damned smirk plastered across his smug face.
“You haven’t looked at the menu.” You observe, still not looking at him, and you hear Graves shift to attention when you finally acknowledge him.
“Don’t have to.” He replies easily. “I’ve been here long enough to know what I want.”
Or so he’s said. It had taken some cajoling on his part to drag you this far out into the sticks, far away from the Shadow Company base. You’d expected him to commandeer one of the jeeps in the compound, puzzled as to why he told you to dress warm in the middle of the deadly Texas summer heat. Yet then your commander had led you off to a garage, had yanked a tarp back to reveal a pristinely kept motorcycle underneath.
“Ducati.” He announced smugly, leaning on the bike and running an appreciative hand over the sleek black trim. “One of the best on the market.”
“How did you afford this?” You gaped at him, ignoring his bark of laughter at your open, astonished expression.
“It pays to be a government contractor, sweetheart. You ought to know that by now.”
He walked over to a shelf, tossed you a helmet. It looked brand new. You barely caught it, too transfixed on the motorcycle. Graves sauntered back over, tapped two leather-gloved fingers under your chin.
“Close your mouth, babygirl. You’ll catch flies.”
It had been clear from the get-go that Graves had planned this in excruciating detail, going as far as providing you with a spare jacket that even now remains draped across your shoulders, just a bit too large. You’d hopped on the bike behind him, a little hesitant to grab onto him, at least until he’d huffed and wrapped your arms around his waist himself. The warmth of him bled into your front, helmet tucked against his shoulder and thighs clenched to the bike as he’d sped off out of the compound.
You’d gotten some stares from the guards. There will probably be rumors across half the base by the time you both get back.
You don’t know how long you rode into the desert, the sun setting quickly and casting a brilliant orange haze across the horizon. Graves talked little, focused on the road, stopping only when he was required, planting a possessive hand roaming across the meat of your thigh. When you’d playfully smacked at it, he only laughed.
Eventually you had pulled into the diner just as the sunset faded and the flickering, lonely street lights had turned on. When he had ushered you into the diner, the older lady behind the counter had greeted him in cheerful familiarity. “Phil.”
She’s disappeared now, and you think you heard her mutter something to the much younger waitress about a smoke break. Left alone, you stare into the grease-stained menu and try to decipher the various contents in a vain attempt to not entertain Grave’s twinkling eyes.
He nudges you again under the table, boots pressing against your ankles, spreading himself wide and into your space in a way that’s meant to purposefully draw your attention. You know this ploy all too well, know that if you bite and decide to snip at him he’ll only rile you up further with gleeful audacity, until eventually he handles you into a biting kiss you can’t resist. It’s the constant game you both play, caught between a simmering annoyance that erupts in roaming touches and snipping banter even when you’re caught in his arms. You know the inevitable end of it, how you’ll end up in his bed, feel him haul your legs over his shoulders and tease you even then, smiling against your lips when he forces you to surrender in desperate, mewling gasps.
You pretend to hate it, fight him at every turn, rise to his jabs and return them with your own. It only feeds into his rampant desire for you, intoxicated by handling the feral nature of you, taming you with teasing endearments turned into rasping, sweet nothings as he buries himself inside you. You know you’ll go willingly even though you bite at him like something wild, slightly feral, knowing that at the end of this you’ll surrender to his carnal desires only because it feels so good.
You catch the waitress out of the corner of your eye, see her blonde hair cascade in girlish waves out of her ponytail, french-tip nails holding her ticketbook as she sways over to your table. She’s pretty, thin, looks like something out of those 60’s advertisements done in acrylic posters.
“What can I getcha, hon?” She asks, voice a thick Texas drawl as she cocks her hip, staring straight at Graves. Attentive. Suggestive.
It makes your eyes narrow.
Graves looks up like he’s noticed her for the first time, offering a polite smile, different from the one he’s given you.
“Coffee. Black.” He provides, slinging an arm over the back of his seat. “I’ll have the fried catfish sandwich and okra. Fries on the side, biscuits too.”
“Sure thing, sugar.”
Hmm.
You’re ready to order when Graves then points at you. You think he’ll pull a smartass move, declare your affinity for a fresh salad and fruit. Instead he supplies: “This little lady right here will have a burger, medium rare. The works, bacon, egg, all that. Plus onion rings and a coke.”
You open your mouth to protest, but find nothing to object to. In fact, when you frown in a mild pout, your stomach only rumbles in yawning hunger. Graves shoots you a look.
“And no pickles.” He adds, grinning wolfishly. You’re not sure if you want to bite or kiss him.
The waitress scribbles down all of the above in quick shorthand. “Anything else?”
Graves purses his lips, considering. “Chips and queso.” He supplies with a small gesture of his hand. “Thank ya, darlin’.”
The waitress seems to perk up at that, smiling happily before striding off towards the kitchen. You watch her go, trace her back until she vanishes behind the swinging door, and only then do you catch Graves staring at you.
“What?”
He raises an eyebrow at you contemplatively. “Am I not giving you enough attention, babygirl?”
Are you jealous?
You scoff, averting your eyes so he doesn’t see the flash of surprise and bashfulness that flickers across your gaze. “Hardly.” You tell him, and your commander only hums, pressing his boot a little more firmly against your calf.
You shoot him an annoyed look. “Quit it.” You grumble, and just as you expect Graves only grins, eyes twinkling at your bite.
“Can’t help it.” He drawls. “I’m a long legged man.”
You tilt your head at him, a mischievous smile forming on your lips as you consider his words.
“You’re 5’11.” You correct him. “I know plenty of Shadows that have a few inches on you.”
Graves’ eyes flash at that, and you know you’ve gotten under his skin just a bit by the way his gaze turns just a little sharp before melting back into easy confidence.
“I compensate in other ways, darlin’. You know that.”
You thin your lips at that, know that for all intents and purposes, he’s right.
Graves takes in your silence and laughs, pleased.
“Don’t pout.” He tuts at you. “If you need a reminder later, let me know.”
The last time he gave you a ‘reminder’ you’d walked on wobbly legs for two days afterwards, bruises tracing abstract patterns up your chest and throat. And Graves, damnable Graves, had strutted around the compound like a prized rooster crowing at the sun for all the things he knew he had done to you. You’d seethed about it, of course, his egoism, but even then you couldn’t stop the memory of him from poisoning the slow fester of your attraction to him.
His hands on your wrists, your legs over his shoulders. The hickeys he’s sucked into your throat bloom dark against your skin. You toss your head under him, lips parted in desperate little whines as he grinds himself into you with unerring precision. His back is scratched to hell, and he moans at the burn of it, drunk on the hurt and the intoxicating process of watching your wild nature fold to utter, mewling surrender under him.
“Feel good, baby?” He drawls, voice hoarse with his groans as his hips slap against yours. It shakes the bed. “Can’t even talk because you’re so cockdrunk, aren’t ya, little spitfire?”
And you, you had given into him, had surrendered to his endearing, teasing taunts, had folded under him like you belonged there.
Your thighs threaten to close at the memory, and the motion doesn’t go unnoticed by your commander, who’s face lights up in realization.
“Yeah?” He provides, shifting forward eagerly. “Bet you’d like that, babygirl.”
“Piss off.” You snap, even though the temptation of it roils inside you with undeniable interest.
Graves whistles, long and low, puckering his lips and feigning surprise. “I like that bark, sweetheart. You know I do, but…”
Graves leers at you.
“I like it better when you bite.”
You choke.
It’s not unlike him to be this brazen, far from it. Yet his taunting is usually reserved for the more private moments, the ones where he crowds you into the shadows of the armory or behind the barracks, seizes your lips in a domineering kiss until you gasp against him. He leaves you like that after, having barely touched you, smirking with that twinkle in his eyes and sauntering off to leave you exactly as he intended. Dizzy, chest rising, mind fuzzy with want.
Here, however, in this place with a sparse collection of other diners, where the blonde waitress peeks from the porthole of the kitchen door, you feel yourself warm under his intent stare, mouth pressing into a thin, flustered line as you avoid his gaze.
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
You do, instinctively. That tone, when his voice dips lower, less playful, heavy with intent, always summons your attention. It means listen, eyes up, come here.
You merely glance at him, not entirely turning. Avoiding him still, feeding into this game that you both enjoy so dearly.
“Maybe I don’t want to.” You drawl, and you know if it weren’t for the table between you Graves would close the distance and seize your chin to make you look. You smile at that in a way he can see, watch the way fire flickers across his eyes at the rebellious streak in you. He loves it. Loves the way you refuse to obey. It’s a challenge he’s greedy to accept, a temptation he can’t resist. The act of making you surrender is an addiction in of itself, a warm swimming desire that feeds into his veins. He’s drunk on the act of taming you, can’t resist riling you up only to put you down.
It feeds his ego, you think- his oozing confidence that doesn’t buckle even under artillery fire. Graves knows what he is capable of.
Knows he’s capable of taming you.
Before he can respond to your taunt, the waitress reappears with an entire platter of food. Fries, chips, onion rings, queso, drinks, a burger, okra, and a piece of catfish perfectly fried. The steam wafts up from the linoleum table, and you can’t help your eyes fluttering at the intoxicating smell of perfectly greasy food.
“Anything else, sweetpea?” The waitress asks in a sing-song little voice, still trying to draw Graves' attention. He looks up at her, tilting his head and softening his eyes just for a moment. You think he’ll flirt with her, maybe compliment her bright pink lipstick.
“That’s all.” He provides instead, short in a way that makes you blink as you watch the rejection pass over the waitress’s face. She nods distantly before vanishing, and Graves doesn’t give her a second glance before he’s lifting his sandwich up and tearing into it like a coyote with a piece of raw meat.
You survey the table, the wealth of food you know you won’t finish. It’s decadent to the point of excess, and as Graves sucks the sauce from his fingers messily you blink at the spread.
“Christ, Graves.” You breathe. “There’s enough here to feed the base.”
Graves hums around the next bite of his food.
“I gotta keep my girl fed.” He provides through a full mouth, and when you scold him for manners he only grins at you before nodding to your burger. “I know you’re hungry, eat up.”
You grumble at him but happily oblige, biting into the meat of your burger. Flavor and warmth explodes across your senses, and before you can help it you moan.
Graves barks a laugh, nudges you once again under the table.
“Atta girl.” He provides, and you’re too lost in your food to care about the slight mocking tone of his, eyes scrunching shut and savoring the next bite.
“My little carnivore.” He croons, and you do nudge him with your boot at that, shooting him a glare. His eyes only twinkle with mischief before he returns to his own food.
It takes time for you both to devour the table full of food with its queso laden chips and golden brown onion rings, the fries that leave grease stains on the wax paper. Graves waggles a piece of okra in front of your face, and you finally give into his cajoling before eating it straight from his hand.
When his knuckles graze under your chin, you resist the urge to bite him.
Eventually you slump back in your seat with a heavy, pleased sigh, hands over your full stomach and immensely satisfied at the warmth of the food that curls there. Graves sips at his coffee, and how he manages to drink it black after eating that amount of grease is beyond you.
“Feel good, babygirl?” He asks, perhaps a little too smugly, but you can’t bring yourself to pay him much mind.
“Mm-hmm.” You hum happily, a lazy pleased smile across your face as you look at him.
For a moment, you swear you catch something that veers dangerously close to tenderness.
“How am I supposed to get us both on the bike after all this?” He snarks instead, gesturing to the mess of empty plastic baskets and crumbs you’ve both left.
You shrug, unable to hide a cheeky smile. “I could probably ride back and get a couple of strong shadows to haul you onto a truck.” You suggest, and in a rare moment of surprise Graves chokes on his coffee. You grin victoriously at him when he wipes at his chin before turning to you with his eyes narrowed.
“Brat.”
You shrug. “Guilty.”
Despite the scolding, Graves is smiling, and you can’t help but smile back.
You cringe when the bill is slid onto the table, but Graves doesn’t even blink when he deposits a fat wad of cash before standing and bringing you with him. He keeps a hand at the small of your back as you both exit into the cool night air, and if you didn’t know better you’d swear he was being a gentleman.
Yet then the hand snakes up to your back, and you nearly stumble in surprise as Graves thumps you a few times between the shoulders. You spin to face him, eyes wide in indignation.
“Are you trying to burp me?!” You gasp in mild outrage, and in perfect timing you have to swallow down a bubble of gas in hopes he doesn’t notice.
Graves grins, amused and pleased at the mildly scornful look in your eyes. He merely crowds you backwards until your backside bumps against the motorcycle, his hands catching you by your hips before he hauls himself flush against you.
You’re not ready for the way the blue of his eyes shift under the glow of the streetlamp, the sudden, dizzying desire he has when he locks his gaze on yours.
“You drive me crazy, you know that darlin?” He rasps, voice dragging breathily in his chest. It makes you soften against him in your shock, the sudden rapturous fixation of his voice that almost speaks of devotion.
You swallow, heart thumping uneasily in your chest, caught on the razor’s edge of him, afraid that if you get too close he might bleed you dry.
You almost want him to try.
“You’re already crazy.” You manage instead, flashing him a mischievous smile that only barely meets your eyes.
Graves laughs, and laughs again when you nip at his descending lips, a hand snaking up to cradle your skull and press you closer to him. Your hands seize the leather of his jacket in a desperate anchor, swept away by his sudden urge to devour you.
You’re always hiding in some ways from him, you think, ever distant and out of reach. You feign irritation to quell the thunder of your heartbeat, teetering on the precipice of caution and dangerous desire. If you surrender completely, fall into his jaws, you know he’ll only gobble you up like a wild animal. You fear somehow he’ll chew you until you’ve lost your taste and then leave the remains of your broken heart withering like starved desert flowers. You’re not sure if you can take it.
Yet in this moment, in the laughing kiss he presses against your parted lips, you wonder if perhaps this is meant to be forever.
Taglist:
@alicesfracturedmirror @writeforfandoms
#graves x reader#graves x you#commander graves x reader#philip graves x reader#philip graves x you#reader insert#x reader#my writing#my fic#to add to masterlist#something something Graves is a wild Texas coyote#and I adore and hate him for it#if there's typos here I don't see them I'm not looking#anyways here's wonderwall ig
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The Finer Details
Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader
MDNI 18+
(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)
Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..
Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔
Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare
Author's Note: I write these at work and I work nightshift all alone in a little gatehouse, right? I kid you not 3 coyotes were staring at me through the door and I didn't even notice. I saw them running by on the cameras but I honestly thought it was just a group of feral cats cause they were so small.
Anyways, thank you for 300 followers!! I'm geekin' out over that! And Friday morning the last chapter will be out 😈🙏
Cross-posted on AO3
Session 5: Finishing Touches
The word excited was a vast understatement when it came to seeing you again.
Leon's heart was thrumming against his chest as he stood silently in front of your apartment door. His hand was raised up halfway, ready to knock, but a sudden wave of anxiety was holding him back. He was at your apartment. Your apartment.
The drive over was relatively short, it was closer than your workspace, yet he felt confident the entire way here. Now here he was, frozen in place, worried his knock would be too loud or make him seem desperate, even. A ridiculous thought, obviously the man knew that, but it gripped his mind nonetheless.
You must've had a sixth sense, having opened the door before he'd built up the courage to actually knock, when all reality you just recognized the sound of his motorcycle at this point. The sweet smile you gave Leon was enough to draw him into your apartment. He was quick to take his jacket off since he was sweating bullets, hanging it up on the coat rack next to your front door.
You could tell he was nervous just by how jittery he was, it was endearing yet worrisome at the same time. Seeing how worked up you made him was adorable, but at the same time you didn't want him to feel uncomfortable around you.
"Sit wherever, Mr. Kennedy. My house is yours." You placed a hand on his bicep to try and ease him, smile still remaining as you watched him survey the living room. A quiet laugh fell from his lips as he trained his eyes on you. "It's Leon, please. Making me feel real old over here..." You rolled your eyes with a playful groan. It was just a formality you'd trained yourself to respond with when it came to clients. A hard habit to break since you'd never really dated any of them before now.
With a gentle pat, you slowly turned and walked off into your admittedly small kitchen where the faint sound of boiling water could be heard. It took a few seconds before Leon decided to follow you, not totally convinced to take a seat just yet. You glanced over your shoulder at him before turning back to reach up into one of your cabinets, pulling out a couple mismatched mugs. "You like chai?" He nodded, licking his lips at the idea of something to drink.
The man could only stand awkwardly a few feet behind you and watch as you grabbed a couple tea bags from another cabinet, setting reach bag in their respective mug. An electric kettle sitting atop your counter beeped once it reached the selected temperature, prompting you to grab the handle and pour the water into the mugs.
You covered the mugs to let them steep, turning around to lean back against the edge of your counter so you could look at Leon. He looked like a lost puppy, hands in the pockets of his jeans as he took in your kitchen. With a sympathetic sigh, you pushed yourself from the counter and looped your right arm through his, leading him out of the kitchen back towards your living room. "Get comfortable, I'll bring the tea over here, okay?"
He just let you lead him over to the couch, sitting down at your request with a meek nod. He really should be more confident than this, but he was far out of practice when it came to women. The idea of messing this up for himself was terrifying.
Leon's head followed you as you walked around to the front of the couch, watching as you set the mugs on the coffee table before sitting down next to him. He rested his hands on top of his thighs, eyes now stuck to the tea placed in front of him.
"Are you feeling alright? You look like you're gonna throw up." You meant this in a joking manner, even giggling a bit as you spoke, but Leon's head jerked away from the tea to look at you, eyebrows furrowed with worry as he shook his head. "No-.. No, I'm okay, just... Can I be honest?"
That kind of question never failed to make you nervous, and he was quick to pick up on that, clearing his throat after stumbling over his words. "It's... It's been a long time since I've done anything like this. Seeing someone."
Your mouth formed a small 'o' shape at his confession before falling back to that same sweet smile that you welcomed him in with. "You're right to be nervous, Leon. But hey," you paused to scoot closer to him, ".. I've had the privilege to learn a bit of backstory from you already, and after working with a few other agents before you, I have a general idea on just how taxing that kind of job can be."
Leon tightened his lips as he listened to you, worry still plain on his face. You were right and maybe that's why he grew to like you so easily. He didn't have to explain anything since you already knew the basic gist of it all, holding a level of understanding that most other potential partners wouldn't have.
You reached in front of him to grab the mug, carefully placing it in one of his hands before reaching further to grab the other, now having him hold the mug with both hands. He kept fidgeting with his jeans, clearly needing something to hold onto.
"I won't pry, the details of your job seem pretty intense, but I want you to know that I'll never turn you away, relationship or not." You'd grabbed your own mug now, looking down as you pinched your index and thumb on the paper end to the tea bag to jostle it a bit. "You've more than earned the time you have now to just be yourself."
Leon swallowed dryly, turning his attention down to where he was holding the mug in his lap. He didn't even know he needed to hear those words, but dammit were they definitely hitting home.
"Thank you." He managed to say, voice meek and slightly scratchy from just how dry his mouth had become. "You... have a way with words?" He breathed out a chuckle to which you followed up with a laugh of your own. Despite feeling so vulnerable and awkward, he still managed to make a joke.
You closed your eyes as you brought the mug up to your lips, taking a sip of the now perfectly warm tea before opening them again to give the man next to you a smirk. "What a charmer you are, huh?"
And just like every other time the two of you had been around each other, Leon started to relax by the hour; talking more, joking more, getting closer to you, and once you both finished up the tea, he held onto your hand with his own.
He followed you around your apartment when you excitedly asked to give him a tour. It was small, a very humble one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, but to Leon it was probably the most comfortable place he'd ever been. So similar to your workplace in terms of decor, but now it was full of your more personal items.
The smell of the tea from earlier was beginning to fade, making way for the smell of just you, such a pleasant and intoxicating smell to the man.
Your bedroom was the biggest culprit so far, the two of you winding up sitting on the edge of your bed. Shamefully, he'd zoned out as you rambled on about whatever, just soaking in the feel of your comforter beneath his hands. It was soft, but definitely not as soft as your lips were.
While Leon was zoned out, his eyes had gotten stuck again, this time on your lips as they moved. You were focused somewhere else, looking forwards, not really paying attention to where he was staring. He so badly wanted to kiss you again, the last kiss didn't last nearly as long as he would've liked it to.
Leon knew his words would fail him and he wanted to act before his nerves got the better of him, leading him to moving his eyes up to yours, his hand reaching to gently hold under chin so he could turn your head to face him.
The feel of his hand caused you to pause your ramble, letting him turn your head to face him. He looked so handsome with that wanting look, his eyes flittering from your own and back down to your lips.
He seemed to know what he wanted, so you opted to just let him slowly pull you closer into a kiss, eyes closing as your lips touched his. It was a little longer than the kiss you shared the night before, but after pulling away and seeing the shy smile you had, he couldn't help but pull you right back in.
His eyebrows furrowed, hands finding their way to your back to pull you closer, one between your shoulder blades while the other on the small of your back. You arched against his touch, letting him angle you the way he wanted. Leon's hands moved to make way for his arms, biceps flexing as he tightly wrapped them around you. He had to hold on tight, fearing he would lose his little slice of heaven if he didn't.
Your lips felt amazing against his, so soft and pillowy. And god, the way your skin felt when he shifted one of his rough hands up under your shirt. He needed more, all of you.
He let out a low groan, almost a growl as he nibbled on your bottom lip before moving down to your neck. He leaned back a bit so his shoulders were resting against the head of the bed frame, managing to pull you even closer so your chest was pressed up a little higher than his, his head buried into the crook of your neck.
You breathed out a shaky breath as his hands began to wander again, still underneath your shirt. They went up and down your back, moving down to occasionally squeeze your waist. You made the prettiest sounds when he did.
Leon felt so needy, holding onto you like this, for dear life. He couldn't help it. You were his lifeline right now.
His lips trailed along the underside of your jaw and down the front of your throat, making sure to leave a trail of hickeys in their wake. He could feel you swallow and the vibrations from your moans, loving how alive you felt in his grasp.
You ran your fingers through his hair before gently tugging him away from your neck, tilting his head back ever so slightly so he was looking up at you. He was panting, breath cold against your spit-covered neck. You gave him the most endearing look, one hand trailing down to cup the side of his face. You didn't want him to worry even for a second.
"I'm not going anywhere." You whispered, running your thumb along his bottom lip before bringing him into another kiss. His grip on you loosened enough for you to carefully slide down and settle your upper half into his lap.
Leon's lip quivered as he watched you, hands trembling once you'd slid out of his grasp. Your words were comforting, but he couldn't hold onto you the way he wanted when you were down there. Though, with the way you rested your cheek against the bulge straining in his jeans, he wasn't all that worried anymore.
You watched your hand with a lazy smile as you stroked him over his jeans, both arms resting on his thighs to keep them spread apart. Leon needed love and care and you were more than willing to help him make up for the lost time.
After unbuckling his belt and pulling it off, you unzipped his jeans, sitting up to pull them down in the front. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, silently asking for permission to which he eagerly nodded his head. He even reached his hands down to help, but you swatted them away.
"Let me take care of you..." Carefully, you pulled the front end of his boxers down far enough for his cock to spring out and then up against his stomach, already leaking precum. Leon groaned as the cool air hit it, causing his hips to jerk up a bit.
You didn't want to tease the poor man, so you reached your hand up and gripped the base, pulling it upright and to the side slightly. You stroked him languidly before placing a gentle kiss against the shaft. He whined, his legs now starting to shiver from the adrenaline.
Leon never could've imagined he'd get this far with you tonight, let alone get to watch you stroke his dick while giving it kisses and little kitten licks. A pitiful moan was pulled from him when you wrapped your lips around the tip to suck, your hand now stroking him faster.
You were so careful with him, focusing on his pleasure, having even stopped a couple times to make sure he was feeling good and also just to tell him how good he was doing.
With his cock now deep in your throat, tears were streaming down his face, small sobs falling from his lips as you bobbed your head up and down. It was all so much; the smell of your bedding, the feeling your mouth wrapped around him, the sound of his own weak little cries hitting his ears.
"I'm-.. God I'm sorry- I-" He spoke breathlessly through the moans and sobs, hands fisted into your comforter as he began to worry he'd chase you away. You pulled your mouth off of him, hand moving from holding the base to stroking him again. "You're doing such a good job, Leon. Just let go for me.." With your hushed words, you quickly put your mouth back around him, going right back to deepthroating him.
His orgasm surfaced fast, throwing his head back with a high pitched whine as he all so suddenly came down your throat. After pulling away, you gave the tip of his cock a gentle kiss before tucking it back into his boxers for him, staring up at him while running your hand along his thigh.
It was hard for him to look down at you, his head feeling heavy. A few small tears fell here and there, but now he was able to give you a tired smile. "Was that alright?" You asked him again, voice raspy from deepthroating the man.
Leon huffed out through his nose, smile widening as he quickly sat up, reached down, and pulled you up so your chest was pressed against his again. He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly once more before burying his face into your neck.
It would've taken years for him to open up like that with anyone else, but it was different with you. You already knew, you understood, you were patient with him.
You made him feel weak in the best way possible. For once in his life he didn't need to be that strong, stone-cold agent who didn't bat an eye at death. With you, he could be soft.
It only took a few more sessions for Leon's portrait to be finished. All that needed to get done was some finishing touches since little things tend to get smudged along the way. All a part of the process.
Unfortunately for Leon, you didn't let him see the final product, blocking his every attempt to see it while saying something about "You don't get to see the bride before the wedding!" Whatever that meant.
When you told him it would take about two months to dry, he turned into the biggest man-child you've ever seen. Leon was just as bad as Chris in that sense, only difference being Claire was there to help contain Chris when he tried to see their portrait. Now you were left to deal with Leon's shenanigans all on your own.
No matter how much he begged and pleaded, you didn't relent. Hell, you even chased him out of the building with a dirty paintbrush. Two months was too long to wait for something like that. You were basically torturing him.
Luckily for you and him, it was easy to distract the man with the promise of a comfortable night at your apartment with some takeout. Afterwards, he really only ever asked about the portrait when he saw you working on something else. By now you'd hidden the painting away from his prying mind to give it time to dry. Out of sight, out of mind.
In the meantime, you would sketch him at random; while he was sitting on your couch, with his glasses on, naked on the bed posing for you "like one of your french girls", which was pretty funny yet surprisingly helpful. It had been a long time since you had the chance to draw a nude model, and what better than the ex-agent you'd grown so fond of?
Now it was just a matter of playing the waiting game. Leon's portrait was made to be extra special, secretly working on it while he was sleeping or off at the gym. Sure it prolonged the drying process, but you can't rush perfection in the end.
tags!: @greywardensaywhat @xkittiecatx @httpsuguru @k-fallingstar @lysa1201 @bobastayhigh @pocketstoriesstore @agent-dessis-posts @klee-iii @missjoenowhere @bbjposay @lazuliglace @bigtiddiesimp @finsternisle @sweets3rial @sodacolablast (there's a few of you that tumblr wouldn't let me tag for some reason 😭)
#daily dose of dilf#hes not a dad in this#but that doesn't mean hes not a dilf#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x reader#resident evil#leon s kennedy x you#leon scott kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy smut#leon s kennedy smut#leon s kennedy x fem!reader#leon kennedy fanfic#leon kennedy fic#leon x reader
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It's Me, I'm The April fool
Funny Story Universe
Pairing: Jake Seresin x Mitchell!Reader, Platonic!Bradley Bradshaw x female!reader
TW:mentions of pregnancy, brief mention of breeding kink I think thats it
Summary: Bradley really needs to learn to mind his own business.
Word Count:2.1k
"Well, fuck."
You and Jake stare down at the two pink lines in disbelief, thoughts coming and going at warp speed. Jake is borderline buzzing with happiness and excitement but waits to see your reaction before showing it.
He looks at the side of your face, trying to get a read on what you're feeling. Truth be told, you aren't sure. There's a mixture of glee and excitement, you know that much. You love Jake more than anything, and the idea of having a mini Seresin running around causes your heart to swell with love.
Overpowering all of that though, at the very forefront of your mind flashing in giant neon letters, is fear. Not fear of becoming a mother or of Jake running for the hills never to be seen again, but fear of your dad.
He specifically told you to be careful, yet here you are, staring parenthood in the face. It almost makes you laugh because you know exactly when you got pregnant. It happened the same night Mav found out and nearly had a heart attack just at the prospect of you dating Jake.
In your defense, you usually were careful. It's not your fault that your dad didn't learn his lesson about tempting you and Jake. It also doesn't help that Jake fucking Seresin has one massive breeding kink. You weren't exactly complaining at the time.
"Talk to me, baby. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"
You're broken from your trance and turn to face your boyfriend.
"Dad is going to kill us."
Jake has the nerve to laugh, and you smack his arm with a scowl.
"It's not funny, Seresin!"
He manages to get his laughter under control, stifling tiny giggles as he tries to put on a serious face.
"He's not going to kill you. You're his only child and carrying his only grandchild. Me, on the other hand? Let's hope the only thing he finds worse than a grandchild out of wedlock is a bastard grandchild."
Jake can see you trying not to laugh at his antics, and his stomach flips when he manages to get a smile out of you.
"There's my pretty girl. We'll figure out Mav later, okay?"
You scoff and roll your eyes, settling back on the counter with your arms crossed.
"Yeah, because that worked out so well last time."
He pokes your sides and you almost hate how he manages to cheer you up even in the tensest situations. Almost.
"Well, now we know. I'll make sure to climb to a higher surface so he can't reach me." His face is completely deadpan, and you snort.
"You're fucking ridiculous."
Two weeks later, you've both fallen in love with the little bean, and you've had to physically drag Jake out of the baby section in every store you've set foot in.
You're just leaving the doctor's office, a small black and white sonogram tucked into Jake's back pocket. You're twelve weeks along, and Jake is riding a high only comparable to racing through the skies.
The two of you chat in the car on the way to the Hard Deck; you're supposed to meet the team for drinks. You are still figuring out how to get around that, seeing as no one knows about your little surprise.
"Do you think they'll have my eyes?" Jake asks, and love explodes in your chest.
"I hope so. Honestly, I think they'll be a carbon copy of you."
The thought makes his head swim, and he's consumed by images of a little blonde-haired boy or girl running around with his self-assured attitude. He knows they're going to be a handful, between his arrogance and your ability to charm anyone that looks your way. He can't wait.
You stroll into the bar, immediately sitting by the pool tables to watch a heated game between Rooster and Coyote. The next couple of hours is spent laughing and making bets on who will win.
It's not until Rooster orders a round of shots that you start to panic, and Jake can see the way your pupils widen as you try to think of an excuse. The tequila is set down in front of you, and you just stare at it.
Jake slams his back, and when he's sure no one is looking, he takes yours too. You give him a grateful smile and pray that this isn't a night of heavy drinking. If Jake is doing double, he's going to end up getting his stomach pumped.
Unbeknownst to you, Bradley does see the interaction and frowns but decides not to say anything. Maybe you're just not feeling well. He doesn't give it much more thought.
But then, when everyone is leaving and he's walking with you to Jake's truck, something happens. Jake drops something, and when he bends down to pick it up, he sees a little white square sticking out of his pocket.
He doesn't think twice as he plucks it out and looks at it, always too nosy for his own good.
You freeze when you see it in his hands, and Bradley's face is as white as a ghost. His eyes rake over the image for a solid minute as you and Jake watch, waiting for the impending explosion.
"What the fuck am I looking at?" Bradley whispers, and you gulp.
He peers down at you and takes in the way you're wringing your hands and shifting back and forth.
"Y/N, what the fuck am I looking at?"
His voice is almost too calm, and you think you broke him for a second. Jake glances between the two of you but remains silent. He's almost certain that if he dares to utter a single word right now, Bradley will be on him, and unlike Mav, he could do severe damage.
"Surprise?"
Bradley looks like he's about to faint and vaguely registers bile rising in his throat.
"No, nope. This is a prank, right? I know you're not dumb enough to get pregnant when Mav expressly told you not to. Maybe Hangman, but not my baby sister."
You chew on your lip, and Bradley has to fully walk away for a second before rounding back and halting in front of you.
"Are you fucking kidding me? Do you get off on pissing off Mav or something? You're going to be a single mom!"
He's practically yelling at this point, and you shush him harshly before yanking him closer to the truck, away from prying ears.
"No, I'm not, Bradley. Jake isn't going anywhere."
He gives you a bewildered look and throws his hands up in the air, doing a complete spin to try and process the new information.
"Maybe not by choice, but Mav is going to kill him! I don't mean get angry and yell. I mean full military service, casket in the ground kill him. He just told you three months ago not to get her pregnant out of wedlock."
He's facing Jake now, and you have to credit the blonde pilot for never wavering in the face of adversity.
"Well, I actually have a solution to that problem." He shrugs.
You and Bradley both look at him expectantly. If he has any ideas, you have yet to hear them.
"We could just elope."
Bradley barks out a disbelieving laugh, but you don't find the matter funny at all. Marry Jake? Usually, the thought of marrying a man you've been with for less than a year would send you sprinting in the opposite direction, but this isn't any man.
It's Jake, the man that makes you laugh when you're crying and always eats your mushrooms because you can't stand the texture. The man who was so over the moon at becoming a father that once he knew you were okay, fell to his knees and hasn't stopped talking to your non-existent belly since.
You're already attached to him for life, and the thought has crossed your mind. You don't hate it.
"Jake, don't marry me just because I got knocked up." You sigh, and he shakes his head.
"No, I've been thinking about this since that first night. Just seemed too crazy. It makes perfect sense, though, and Y/N Seresin has a nice ring to it.
You smile brightly at the sentiment and slowly nod your head.
"Okay, let's do it. Let's elope."
Bradley lets out a sound akin to a wounded animal, and you're suddenly reminded that he's there.
"This is the worst idea I've ever heard. Mav will think you're doing it out of obligation and try to stop it. You can't be serious."
You ponder for a few seconds, and Bradley can almost read your thoughts. He doesn't like the look on your face, the one you get right before you drag him into one of your harebrained schemes.
"So we won't tell him until after."
You say it as if it's the most simple thing in the world, and Bradley's knees almost give out. This is the worst deja vu he's ever had; how the fuck does he keep getting wrapped up in this shit?
"No, absolutely not. Last time you said that I aged ten years in six months. You're pregnant. You can't just hide this for months. How far along are you?"
You release an agitated sigh and lean up against Jake's hood.
"Twelve weeks."
Bradley's eyes widen, and you would almost feel bad if it didn't look so funny.
"Twelve wee- what did you get pregnant the night he told you not to?"
You know it's a rhetorical question but answer anyway.
"Yeah, actually. It's kind of funny when you think about it."
Bradley actually sits on the gravel this time, staring ahead into the abyss.
"It's actually not funny, and I wish I could think about literally anything else. Why am I always the one that has to keep a secret? I hate keeping secrets."
He's whining, and you stifle a laugh.
"Because you're always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. You do this to yourself."
He shoots you a mean glare, and you nudge him with your knee.
"Cheer up. This means you get to be the witness."
His head snaps to look up at you, and his mouth falls open.
"Objection!"
Your eyebrows shoot up, and you choke on a laugh.
"You can't scream objection in a private conversation, Roos."
He leaps to his feet, and you adjust the angle of your head to stare up at him.
"Well, I just did. It's one thing to ask me to hide something like this. But you want me to witness your elopement and not tell anyone?"
Jake finally steps in and subtly nudges Bradley back a few inches; he's gotten a little too close for his liking.
"Well, you're the only one who knows. Besides, it should be someone important to us. We'll have the big wedding after all this is said and done."
Bradley stares him down for a second and ponders the idea.
"You think I'm important?"
Jake scoffs and throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him.
"That's what you took away from that?"
Bradley nods, and Jake closes his eyes, already regretting his next words.
"If I say yes, then will you do it?"
You look on with amusement and give Bradley your best puppy dog eyes.
"Guess you'll have to find out."
Jake pinches the bridge of his nose and tilts his head back to look at the sky.
"Fine. Yes, you are important to both of us, and we would love it if you were the one to be there."
The words are almost like acid on his tongue, and he'll never forgive the grinning pilot for making him say it.
"Okay, I'll do it. But you have to tell Mav soon!" He points his finger at you, and you recoil.
"Don't point that thing at me, Bradshaw."
He lowers his hand, and you clap, giddy at the impending nuptials.
"Okay, we'll put it together and let you know. Right now, I want nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep. This kid is sucking the life out of me."
Bradley snorts and tilts his head to the side.
"Yeah, I would imagine a Seresin will do that to you." He mutters, and you kick him in his knee.
"Ow!" He yelps, reaching down to grab the area while hopping on the opposite leg.
"Watch it. They're half Mitchell too, you know."
Bradley scowls when Jake coughs to cover a laugh, and you turn to hop in the truck. Jake opens the door before giving his friend a nod and driving you home. This should be very interesting.
#jake seresin#top gun maverick#bradley bradshaw#top gun imagine#hangman top gun#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin top gun#jake seresin fic#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin
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New Best Friend
Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x daughter!reader
Word count - 1,787
Warnings - fluff and that's about it
Summary - the Daggers meet Jake's two-year-old daughter and she decides that Fanboy is her new favourite person
Sequel - 'Replaced'
A/N - hey y'all! This was an anon request that I ADORED writing. I did adjust a couple of things because that's just how the ideas came out while I was writing but I hope I did the idea justice nonetheless! This is also NOT a part of the Hangman junior universe, just wanted to clarify. As per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!
“You ready to meet daddy’s friends, sweetheart?” Jake asks gently as he bounced you up and down on his hip slightly, eliciting a giggle from you. Jake had finally dropped the bombshell that he had a two-year-old daughter on his team and within seconds of finding out that information, the team demanded to meet you. Javy had already met you; he’d been the one helping Jake through the whole process of being a single father, but the rest of the team hadn’t been aware of your existence. Jake had invited the Daggers around to his house to hang out and to meet you. It was a Friday evening so everyone was free, and he chose to have them come to his house so you felt safe and comfortable with meeting his teammates. Now that the Dagger Squadron had become a permanent detachment, Jake felt more comfortable letting the team meet you since he didn’t want you to grow attached to them and then have them leave. He didn’t want to put you through any upset or heartbreak.
Jake stopped bouncing you when the doorbell rang, signalling someone’s arrival at the house. Jake walked through the house with you sat happily on his hip. Jake knew you were shy, so he was hoping Javy was the first one to show up to ease you in slightly.
“Hey, Jake.” Javy says with a smile as the door opens.
“Javy!” You squeal happily, reaching out for him so Jake passes you to him. Javy gives you a big hug as he enters the house, kicking his shoes off and following Jake into the kitchen to help set out food for the evening. You continued to cling to Coyote, but he skilfully managed to move plates while you sat comfortably in his arms. Just as the two finished setting up, the doorbell rang again, and Coyote crossed to the front door to open it after he put you down. He opened the door to reveal Phoenix and Bob who smile softly before being allowed in. The pilot and WSO duo enter the house, easing their shoes off and following Coyote into the living room where you were sat in Jake’s lap, cuddling into his side, a fistful of his shirt in your hand. The second your eyes landed on Phoenix and Bob you cuddled closer to your dad, hiding your face.
“Sorry.” Jake says over to the two, who shake their heads with a smile, understanding that you’re shy. You do give them a small wave but that’s as much courtesy as you extend to them. Soon after, Rooster arrives, greeting you with a smile and a wave that you mirror. Those who had arrived chatted with each other after grabbing a drink. None of them wanted to freak you out so they were content to let you cuddle into Jake and watch them quietly. Soon, Payback and Fanboy arrived, both apologising profusely for being late while they entered the living room. You gave both men a shy wave and they found somewhere to sit in the living room. Fanboy sat on the floor by the end of the sofa, discovering a small Mickey Mouse plush on the floor near him and picking it up.
“Is this yours y/n?” He asked gently, holding the plush out towards you as you nod and take it from his hand with a small ‘thank you’ as you cuddle the toy to your chest.
“Who’s that you got there?” Rooster asks quietly, looking over at you.
“Mickey Mouse.” You say shyly as Jake smiles down at you before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He was proud at you for speaking to someone you didn’t know.
“You know, my name is Mickey.” Fanboy says which perks your interest as you shift in your dad’s lap, ignoring his joking groan as you elbow him lightly in the side during your shuffling.
“Really?” You ask curiously, clutching your toy closer to your chest.
“Really.” Fanboy confirms with a nod, officially winning you over as you wiggle out of your dad’s grasp as he eases you down onto the floor so you can toddle towards Fanboy. You instantly open your arms as you reach Fanboy, and he mirrors your action allowing you to clamber onto his lap and cuddle into him. You were clearly not interested in what the team were watching and grew restless but didn’t want to leave the sanctuary you found in Fanboy’s arms.
“Do you want me to take her?” Jake said, noticing how you were restless and didn’t want Fanboy to have to deal with it.
“Nah, I got her. Is that okay?” Fanboy replies, glancing over at Jake to get a response to which Jake nods with a small smile.
“Alright y/n, let’s move.” Fanboy says with a grin, carefully getting to his feet while keeping you in his arms as your arms wind around his neck for added security. You still kept your toy kept tightly in your grasp as Fanboy carried you to the back door. He stepped out into the cool evening air where the sun was beginning its descent over the horizon.
“It’s pretty, huh?” Fanboy says gently, bouncing you on his hip lightly. Your eyes were fixed on the reds and oranges that painted the evening sky, watching the clouds that passed. Noticing a passing jet, Fanboy carefully points it out to you before covering one of your ears and then pressing your head gently against his shoulder so your ears are protected from the loud passing of the jet. When Fanboy considers the jet to be far enough away, he removes his hand.
“Did you see that?” Fanboy asks with a grin as you nod, eyes wide with awe from the jet passing over, you were already searching for another one.
“My daddy flies planes!” You exclaim, pointing up at where the jet had previously been. Fanboy wasn’t expecting you to get so excited about a jet but upon the mention of Jake, he understood. You loved your dad with all your heart and Fanboy could tell easily.
“He does, doesn’t he? You know I do that too? And everyone in the house with your dad. Well, me and Bob don’t, we sit in the backseat but we’re just as important.” Fanboy explains, knowing his words were most likely going in one ear and out the other but he loved seeing your eyes lighting up at the mention of your dad. Fanboy then begins to point out various clouds, asking you if you thought they looked like something. Over time, Fanboy noticed that you were slowly getting more and more tired, and your head was dropping onto his shoulder.
“We should get you inside, yeah?” Fanboy whispers to you, turning to head back inside the house, closing the door behind him and locating Jake in the kitchen, putting food away.
“Hey, Hangman. I think y/n’s ready to go to bed.” Fanboy says to his teammate, who immediately turns to face Fanboy, a soft smile covering his face at the sight of you cuddled into Fanboy.
“I got her. Most of the others are heading home now so you’re good to go.” Jake said with a smile as he reaches out to take you.
“No, Mickey stay.” You whine, burying your face in Fanboy’s neck.
“y/n/n, come on sweetheart. He needs to go home and you, little miss, need to go to bed.” Jake says, reaching out to take you once more but again you shied away, even tucking your Mickey Mouse plush into the crook of your elbow so it hid your face more.
“If it’s okay with you. I could stay until she falls asleep. I don’t mind.” Fanboy offers, bouncing you gently to stop the tears he noticed in your eyes when your dad mentioned you having to go to bed.
“Okay. Come on, I’ll show you to her room.” Jake says, leading Fanboy upstairs after bidding goodbye to the Daggers as they left. Fanboy enters the bedroom, smiling at the décor. It was clear you were a big Disney fan. Fanboy pulls back the duvet on your small bed and eases you down, making sure that your Mickey Mouse toy is still in your grasp.
“Story, please.” You ask Fanboy, pointing to the book that laid just by your bed.
“She can’t go to sleep without a story.” Jake elaborates from where he stood in the doorway, watching every interaction with a gentle smile. Fanboy nods, picking up the book, sitting on the edge of your bed, and holding the book so you could see the pictures. Fanboy read the book, making sure to do different voices for the characters as you giggled at his variety of voices. Soon enough, your eyes began to droop, and you snuggled into your pillow, Mickey Mouse toy cuddled into your chest as you curled into a ball.
“Goodnight, y/n/n.” Fanboy whispers, easing himself up carefully and placing the book on the top of your bookshelf while Jake came in the room fully and knelt by the bed.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and pulling the duvet up around you. He switched the nightlight on by your bed and motioned for Fanboy to follow him, both of them leaving the room with Jake switching your room light off and pulling the door closed, leaving it open a crack.
“You were good with her. Didn’t know you had that in you.” Jake comments as he and Fanboy make their way downstairs.
“I have an older sister, she’s got a kid so I guess I just know how to look after a kid now.” Fanboy shrugs, like it, was an obvious answer.
“Well, you won her over. I think you’re her new best friend. I’ve been dethroned.” Jake chuckles, clapping Fanboy on the shoulder.
“She’s going to be heartbroken tomorrow when she realises, you’re not here. It’ll be like I don’t exist to her.” Jake says, shaking his head with one more soft chuckle.
“I can always come around tomorrow. She’s a cute kid and I don’t mind taking her off your hands for a while. It’ll give you some time to yourself.” Fanboy suggests, glancing over at Jake whose eyes widen slightly in shock.
“You don’t have to. I don’t want to force you into anything.” Jake says quickly.
“You’re not forcing me. I suggested it. I want to help out.” Fanboy says, smiling at Jake who processes his words before nodding slightly.
“Well, you’re always welcome to come and see your new best friend. And I will be telling Payback that he’s been replaced.”
#justabigassnerd#justabigassnerd writes#top gun#top gun maverick#top gun fic#top gun maverick fic#hangman top gun#hangman x reader#hangman x you#hangman x daughter!reader#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x you#jake seresin x y/n#jake seresin x daughter!reader#jake 'hangman' seresin x reader#jake 'hangman' seresin x daughter!reader#jake 'hangman' seresin#jake hangman seresin#x daughter!reader
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your love is the love I need || chapter 1/4
pairing: javy machado x femme reader (no y/n), callsign Cross
summary: Cross and Javy are very good friends. Javy might've let it slip to his mother that they're more. A little fake dating never hurt anyone, right?
warnings: 18+, minors please DNI – no smut in this chapter (there defs will be in later chapters, and I never want someone to be caught off guard) but there is an attempted roofie-ing in this chapter.
length: 6.2k
A/N: literally the biggest shoutout in the WORLD to @daggerspare-standingbystandingby for talking me off a ledge, and also line editing, and also depth. @bradshawsbitch and @laracrofted thank you for always brainstorming with me 💙
Saturday
“Cross, get in here; I need a stand-in.”
You’d been looking for a glass for your cherry coke in cabinets at the Miramar Family Center, but at Hangman’s call, you grabbed a straw and jogged back over to the pool table. Bob folded a napkin and slid it across the table as you got closer and you smiled at him gratefully before setting the sweating can down on it.
“Tapping out already, Hangman?” Phoenix asked from across the table, where she was wiping chalk over the end of her pool cue.
“You and Avalone wish,” Jake drawled, smiling wanly at the group. “Nah, I’ve got to pick something up; I’ll be right back.”
He tossed his pool cue at you without looking and you considered letting it clatter to the ground, but you grabbed it out of the air, trying not to read into the gesture too much.
You were a recent addition to the squad; when Fanboy had decided he wanted to try piloting again, they’d needed a WSO to fly with Payback. Having only been a teammate for a couple months, you were still finding your footing with the group. Everyone had been welcoming, of course, but there were times that you felt the little idioms and questions were a type of test. Tests that you were determined to pass, not just for the sake of assimilation, but because this was a team you were genuinely proud to be a part of, and you wanted them to know it.
“Am I solid or stripes?” you asked, looking down at the table, confused by the seeming lack of structure on the felt.
“We’re playing cutthroat,” Payback said, looking after Hangman with a grimace, for not giving you any context.
“We’re 11-15,” Coyote said, because of course he and Jake had been a team. He swiped the chalk that Phoenix had been using, and as he dropped it into your palm, his fingertips brushed yours. You tried to ignore it, it was just an accidental brush, but your skin prickled anyway, and you looked away quickly.
“1-5,” Phoenix cut in, pointing between her and Fritz.
“6-10,” Payback finished, lifting a fist in Bob’s direction, as the WSO held up a clenched hand obediently.
“Cool,” you said, deciding if you wanted to take on the pilot who held your life in his hands any time you got in the back of an F/A-18, or Phoenix.
Which, honestly, wasn’t even a question.
You surveyed the felt once more, before seeing a clear shot for the 9 ball, walking around the table to take it, and shooting Bob an apologetic look as the ball clattered into the pocket.
“I knew I liked you,” Natasha cooed.
“Yeah, I don’t know why we bother,” Payback sighed to Bob, who shrugged, both of them good-naturedly.
“Atta girl,” Coyote crowed, and Phoenix nodded approvingly and you grinned at her, rather than risk looking at him. Not with the butterflies that erupted in your stomach at his completely platonic praise. You were on the same team, it was nothing more than that, and now was so not the time for your relentless crush to make an appearance.
Pool wasn’t really your game, and you weren’t at all surprised when you botched the next shot, flustered by the nearly six feet of Abercrombie model at your shoulder. You backed away from the table as Billy stepped up, apparently next in order.
You swiped your soda from the table by Bob, crossing the room to perch on the side of a sofa and wait for your turn again, or Jake’s reappearance, whichever came first.
Your eyes flitted over to Javy, as they always seemed to, when you weren’t actively trying not to. It wasn’t your fault he was magnetic.
All easy smiles and broad shoulders, deep protectiveness and unabashed confidence, just as good as Hangman and Rooster and Phoenix, less likely to call attention to it. The way he’d look deep at whoever was talking to him, nodding along as he gave them his full attention.
At present, that person was Phoenix, and Javy’s shoulders dipped as he hunched his back slightly, to get closer and hear her better. You played with the end of your pool stick, watching as their heads tilted together, quietly commenting on the table as Fritz lined up a shot.
“It’s a statistical impossibility, right?” Halo whispered, appearing next to you on the couch. “For them to be that pretty and that good of pilots?”
You followed her gaze to the trio around the table and shook your head, agreeing.
“The worst part of it,” you mumbled back, “is that they have the audacity to be decent people, so we can’t even do the easy thing and dislike them for being perfect.”
Halo clicked her tongue against her teeth, fiddling with the plastic cap of a water bottle.
“That’s why they need us,” she mused. “You, me, and Bob: subverting expectations as gorgeous backseaters.”
You snorted, before Callie’s words registered, and you looked over at her, your voice teasing when you asked, “Bob, huh?”
She shrugged lightly, even as a pretty flush bloomed on her cheeks.
“Completely impartially, of course,” she said, sheepishly. You smiled reassuringly, bumping her shoulder with yours, and she tilted her head as she looked back at the table.
“How’s that view from your glass house?” she asked, sweetly, making you nearly choke on your soda when you saw she was looking pointedly at Coyote.
“Is it that obvious?” you asked.
“I mean, it was a guess, but that just confirmed it,” Callie smiled broadly, before sighing again. “I think crushes on other pilots is the particular curse of Wizzos—we know better, but we think we’re smart enough to get around it.”
“I’ll drink to that,” you muttered, bumping your soda can into her water bottle, memory taking you back a couple months to a night just like this one.
It was your first day in San Diego; you’d caught an early flight and were able to move into your off-base apartment and walk around North Island for a bit, exploring before you’d meet your detachment the following morning. As the sun sank over the Pacific, you walked along the beach, enjoying the warm sand and cooling air. You could hear a piano in the distance, something you assumed was the effect of a bluetooth speaker until you realized it came from a bar a little farther down the beach, and you redirected your footsteps towards it.
The Hard Deck smelled like sweat and good beer, and you clocked a couple different types of badges as you scanned the room. There was a good chance someone here would recognize you tomorrow, so you asked for a coke from the older man behind the bar, settling on a stool and looking around.
There was a man with a mustache and aviators (Indoors. At night.) at the piano, his head cocked back as he worked through the greatest hits of the 60s. Beside him, a stunning woman in a tight bun stood shoulder-to-shoulder with an impossibly tall man, also with a mustache, both of them singing along enthusiastically. A pool table was nearby, a couple more uniforms draped across it, and two men were playing darts against the wall closest to you.
Well, one of them was playing darts.
The blond man was clearly in his element, sinking bullseye after bullseye, and the man beside him seemed content enough to let him play it out. It wasn’t so much a competition, as it was one man showboating, and his friend humoring him.
The louder of the two was making jokes about his odds, calling shots before he took them, and every now and then his partner would quietly say something that would make his shoulders laugh enough to miss his shot. Their conversation faded into the noise of the bar as you turned on your stool, looking around you. When you came back to the bartop, you noticed a man sidling up to a younger girl a couple stools down from you.
She was rebuffing him as gently as she could, and he seemed to be taking it pretty well—until she turned to chat with someone over her shoulder, and he dropped something in her drink while she was preoccupied.
Your jaw dropped; that’d been clear as day. But the bar was crowded, and she’d been distracted by her friends, and your heart lurched when she reached back for her drink without paying attention.
“Hey, wait!” you called down the bar, and she turned to look at you. Along with the half of the bar, you assumed, but you slid off the seat rather than check and see how much of an audience you had. The girl frowned at you, an unfamiliar face yelling at her, but whatever she saw in your expression held her attention for the moment it took you to get down to her.
“Sorry,” you said, quietly as you could, when you got closer to her. “I didn’t want to make a scene, but he definitely put something in your drink.”
“Oh my gosh,” the girl set the drink down on the bar, glaring at the man. “What the hell, you creep!!”
“I didn’t—,” the man’s face flushed, and he looked angrily at you before at the people around him, placatingly. “Hold on, you can’t just go around accusing—”
“It’s not an accusation if it’s true,” you said, turning to the bartender. “Are you the owner?”
He shook his head, looking over your shoulder at some of the other patrons, then set down the tap he was pouring. “I’ll get Penny.”
“Now, hang on Jimmy,” the creep sputtered. “I-I didn’t do anything, you can’t prove I—”
“Drink it, then.”
Everyone turned at the deep voice, as someone else stepped towards the bar. You recognized one of the men from the dartboard, the quiet one, and he crossed his arms as he came up behind you.
The creep’s expression paled as he took in the tall frame of the pilot behind you. “I mean, it’s her drink, I’m not–”
The girl slid her drink down the bartop, in front of the man. “Go on.”
A door slammed in the back of the bar and a moment later, a slim brunette woman let herself behind the counter. She stalked behind the bar, looking sharply at you.
“You saw it?” she asked.
You nodded, and her jaw ticked. She planted her hands on the bar, looking the creep clearly in the face, like she was memorizing it, before she covered the drink with saran wrap and handed it behind her to Jimmy.
“You’re gonna wait in my office until the police get here,” she told the man, her voice level. “And when you leave with them, you will not set foot in this bar again. Understood?”
“Police?” the man echoed, his eyes going wide. “Hold on, this is all getting blown out of proportion, all I did was—”
Penny jerked her head to the side, and you felt a hand on your shoulder for a moment as the quiet pilot brushed by you to reach for the creep. The blond man was with him, suddenly, and they unceremoniously hauled the creep away from the bar.
Penny pursed her lips together, looking meaningfully over at the piano, and a moment later, some Elvis song was playing through the bar. Penny checked in with the girl, pulled some receipt paper out of the printer and had her write down her contact information, in case the police wanted to follow up with her. She waved you down as well, and you came over.
“Don’t think we’ve met before,” she said brusquely, holding a hand across the bar. “I’m Penny.”
“Nice to meet you,” you said, shaking her extended hand and giving her your name. “You handled that really well.”
Her jaw clenched again, as she shook her head. “Hate that I have to handle it at all. Thanks for saying something; what’re you drinking tonight? It’s on the house.”
“Oh, thanks,” you shook your head, pointing to your abandoned coke, “but I’m not drinking; I have an early day tomorrow.”
Penny hummed, looking you over. You had the uncanny feeling that, even without your uniform, she somehow knew you were Navy, which detachment you were in, and—given another minute or two—she could guess your callsign.
“Better get your information too,” she said, sliding the receipt paper down the bar, “in case they want a statement from you. Include your CO; I can probably put a good word in edgewise.”
You scribbled your information down, wondering what ties she had to the Navy, but not doubting for a moment that they were strong. Her mouth twitched as she read over what you’d written, blooming into a full smile as she looked up at you.
“Well, that’ll be easier than I thought,” she said, almost to herself, before walking over to the tap to pour you another coke. “So, what brings you to North Island?”
You chatted with her until the police came and she excused herself to go deal with them. You were finishing your coke when you realized the two pilots were back by the dartboard, the blond one having sunk three bullseyes and performing what appeared to be a victory shimmy.
He looked like a Ken doll, like someone had manufactured him in a Mattel factory, then turned him to life and told him he could do anything a real boy could do.
You laughed to yourself at his antics, and watched while the quiet one collected the darts and took his stance for his turn. His first dart landed on double 16—solid, except it couldn’t beat 3 bullseyes.
You’d wanted to thank him for helping out before Penny got there, and this was as good a chance as any, so you hopped off the barstool and crossed towards the darts wall.
“Hey,” you said, inelegant but effective, appearing behind the two of them, turning to look at you in surprise. “May I?”
The blond man made a sound in the back of his throat like he was both shocked and thrilled by your presence, and he nodded like of course you could butt in. You looked over at the quieter one, trying to pretend he wasn’t the most beautiful person you’d seen in your life.
They’d both looked great from a distance, but up close, he was somehow even prettier, and as you looked at him, the corners of his mouth turned up in a hint of a smile. It was like he liked the weight of your eyes, which was terribly flattering, and you found yourself wanting to smile back. You looked away quickly, back to Ken Doll, thinking about the accent you’d heard in his bragging earlier.
“Texas?” you asked, to distract yourself.
He raised an eyebrow. “Six generations back.”
You hummed, before holding out a hand to the quiet one.
“The lady will shoot for her own hand,” Ken Doll said, like he was quoting something, a laugh in his voice as you felt two darts drop into your palm.
“Pick that up from Medieval Times?” you asked.
“Brave, actually,” he muttered, before smiling sheepishly, “my sister’s kids love that movie.”
“What do they call you?” you asked, turning the darts over in your hands. It was a guess, but the way his eyebrows raised slightly when he registered the cadence of your question confirmed you were right.
“Hangman,” he said, lifting his chin over your shoulder. “That’s Coyote.”
You looked over at him. “Hey.”
He smiled, slow and easy, and you looked away before you messed up your shot. You focused, let it go, and Coyote whistled.
“Triple 20,” he said.
“Triple 20,” you agreed, looking back at Hangman. “Want to see it again?”
Hangman’s eyes narrowed as he did the quick mental math, and beside you, Coyote crossed his arms across his chest, laughing quietly. It was a warm sound, and tempted though you were to turn and see it, you let go of the last dart and watched as it landed next to your first.
“Look at that; Coyote wins,” you wiped your hands on your jeans, smiling at a shocked Hangman.
“Damn,” he said quietly, then grinned. “I like you; you can stay.”
You snorted as he strolled lazily across to the board to pull out the darts, before you turned to look at Coyote, who was watching you already. He had deep brown eyes, eyes that looked kind, like they laughed easy, like they didn’t miss much.
“Anyways,” you said, apropos of nothing, clearing your throat. “I came over here to say thanks for backing me up at the bar.”
Something like surprise flashed across his face before he could stop it. He shrugged like anyone would’ve done it, like it was nothing special to believe women, to support a stranger the same way he’d supported his friend all evening, and in that moment—before he knew who you were, before you knew his actual name, before you’d spoken more than a dozen words to the man—you fell hard for Javy Machado.
“Bob, you’re killing me,” Payback groaned, and you jerked out of the memory. Apparently, Fritz’s turn was done, Bob biffed it, and Phoenix lifted her hand in an “after you” gesture as Coyote stepped up to the table.
He walked slowly, and you tried to be impartial like Callie’d said, but it was damn hard when his shoulders filled out his khakis like that. He walked a slow circle, frowning at the spread and you shifted the pool cue in your own hands, telling yourself to stop staring and continuing to do just that.
“Duckie,” a soft voice called across the room, “if you don’t take the shot already, we’re going to be here all night.”
Javy dropped the pool cue with a clatter, turning to find the voice. You spotted Jake the same time everybody else did, his chest puffed out proudly as he escorted an older woman on his arm. She wore warm gray senegalese twists, dangling turquoise earrings and a wide smile you’d recognize anywhere.
“Momma?” Javy asked softly, then a grin split his face as he sprinted across the room. His mother opened her arms as Javy rushed into them, carefully bending his tall frame to enfold her, before straightening and spinning her around. Their laughter echoed around the room and a couple claps of applause went up.
Jake slapped a hand on Javy’s back as he stepped around them, walking over to the pool table to give them a minute together. Phoenix smiled lightly at him, a soft thing that you doubted any of you were meant to see, before she cleared her throat, looking back at you.
“See, this is why we put up with him being an asshole as much as he is,” she told you, shaking her head at Jake. “He’ll leave you out as bait if it gets him a shot at a bandit, but he’ll remember your mother’s birthday, burn his visitor passes, and fly her across the country to surprise you.”
“Take it easy, Nat,” Jake said lightly, resting his knuckles on the pool table and surveying the game’s progress since he’d stepped away. “You’ll ruin my reputation.”
Phoenix shook her head before lining up her next shot, and Jake pushed away from the table to come stand next to where you and Halo were seated on the couch.
You bumped his shoulder with yours as you both looked back across the center, where Javy and his mom were walking arm-and-arm towards your group.
“That was awful sweet of you,” you told him quietly, not wanting to “ruin his reputation” as he put it.
“The fact that you don’t sound surprised means Phoenix’s lies are taking root,” Jake muttered, but you heard the pride in his voice; he was pleased with himself for pulling this off.
You looked away from the pair over to Jake, who held out a hand for you to hand him his pool cue. You passed it to him, tipping your head, holding onto the other end of it.
“So there was absolutely no altruism involved in reuniting your best friend with his mom?”
“You wound me, Cross,” Jake said drily, but he lifted his chin at Javy’s mother, who was smiling broadly up at her son, her eyes shining as she patted at his uniform proudly. “Give it a sec; let’s see if it pays off.”
You weren’t sure what that meant, but you felt your expression turn soft at the clear fondness between Javy and his mother; somehow you always knew he’d be a momma’s boy. Her neck was craned at a sharp angle to look up at him, but both of their smiles were wide as they broke into the group.
“Guys,” Javy said, his voice nearly giddy, “this is my mom. Momma, this is the group. We’ve got Payback, Bob, Phoenix, Fritz—I guess you already know Jake—Halo, and Cross.”
You all smiled and waved as Javy pointed you out to his mother, and her kind eyes followed Javy’s hand around the circle. You thought you might’ve imagined they lingered a little longer on you, but then her smile grew wider as she looked back at Javy. She elbowed him, then looked back at you.
“Now, Javy,” she chided gently, “I know that’s not how you introduce me to your girlfriend.”
The group stilled, and Jake pulled in a deep breath through his nose, his own smile turning decidedly smug as he pushed away from you, taking the cue with him.
“And there’s your answer, Cross,” he said out of the side of his mouth, going over to the pool table and lining up a shot.
You wet your lips as your eyes darted from Mrs Machado up to Javy.
His expression was a strange mix of shocked, mortified, and pleading, and you weren’t sure what Jake had done to land the both of you in this predicament, but you knew you weren’t about to spoil this reunion for Javy.
“Mrs. Machado,” you smiled, pushing away from the couch to come and hug her. “I’m so excited to get to meet you.”
Of course, she hugged like an angel.
She was just a little shorter than you, and she held you like you were something precious she was excited to have in her arms. When you pulled back, her hands settled on your elbows and she beamed up at you.
“Oh, aren’t you just the loveliest,” she smiled, and her voice sounded like the happiest thing. “You know, I told him, I did, when he started talking about the newest wiz—oh, what is that abbreviation?”
“WSO,” the group chorused.
“WSO,” Mrs. Machado nodded, grateful for the prompt. “Yes, well, when he started talking about you, I asked him if you were a nice young lady, and he insisted that you were just friends, but I just knew, you kept coming up in conversation and, well, I knew it was something more. And then sweet Jacob…”
She broke off to smile kindly at Hangman, and when you looked over your shoulder, Callie and Natasha had cornered him threateningly, but he looked too smug to be intimidated. Under Mrs. Machado’s eyes, they smiled charmingly, but their stance didn’t change. You appreciated them coming to your defense, but it did make you wonder how many people seemed to know about your crush.
“Yeah, sweet Jacob,” Payback deadpanned from the other side of the table, before assuming his role as Resident Adult of the squad. “Mrs. Machado, can we get you something to drink? I know lines at the base access point can be awful, maybe a glass of water?”
“Oh!” Mrs. Machado looked between Reuben and the kitchen, then at you. You smiled reassuringly, pulling your arms free from her.
“I’ll be here,” you said, then reached over without looking, turning away. “Hey, Jay, can I have a word?”
“Yep, figured,” Javy muttered, as your hand closed on the lapel of his khakis, pulling him after you.
“You both are doing my push ups after the next of Mav’s drills,” Payback hissed under his breath as your paths crossed.
“Done,” you said quickly.
“For sure,” Javy said, stumbling slightly as he tried to follow your shorter stride as you pulled him to a corner of the Family Center. You figured the group would be watching you so you turned your back to them, pulling Javy to stand in front of you.
“Wait, you’re his backseater,” Javy smoothed down his lapel, frowning over your shoulder in Reuben’s direction. “If he’s doing them, you are too, and 400 pushups isn’t—”
“You’ve got, like, 15 seconds to tell me why your mom thinks I’m your girlfriend.”
You probably could’ve handled it with more finesse, or at least not interrupted him.
Javy’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck; if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was nervous, but there’s no way that was real, so you just waited on his explanation.
“Okay, so she means well, my mom, but every time we talked, she’d be asking about if I’d met a nice girl, or telling me how one of her friends had a kid in town, that I should meet up with or—”
“15 seconds,” you reiterated, trusting in Reuben’s vamping ability, but the man was only mortal.
“Right,” Javy swallowed. “Uh, so it’s just…one day she was just going on and on, and I said I’d asked someone out, and she wanted to know who and you were the first person I thought of.”
You blinked.
“Not like that, not like I’d planned on asking you out or something,” Javy rushed to say, which shouldn’t have stung as much as it did, but damn. He must’ve realized how that sounded, too, because he winced. “I mean, not like that, it was just the easiest lie that she’d believe and she was never supposed to be here and meet you and—”
You crossed your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing as you looked up at him. “How do you think this is going?”
“Yeah, not great,” Javy mumbled, his hand falling to his side.
“Awesome,” you muttered. “So now that we’ve established how it’s just a matter of me being the easiest lie, you didn’t want her to meet me, and you wouldn’t actually ask me out—”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Javy said stubbornly, even though it was what he’d just said. He looked frustrated, and you couldn’t tell if it was towards your reaction or something else but when he opened his mouth, the words got stuck, because he just sighed.
Javy drew in a deep breath, looking over your shoulder. You knew when his eyes landed on his mom, because his whole face softened, and his shoulders drooped slightly.
“Tell me this,” you said, weighing your words carefully, “is this for her or for you?”
“For her,” he said, with conviction, and when he looked back at you, your heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes. It was honest and deep, something selfless and that scared him too, and you believed him.
“She gets worried about me,” he explained. “What she and my dad have is special…when me or my siblings don’t have that, she gets worried. Like, it’s something she prays for. I know she’s proud of me and my career and all that, but I think a part of her will always think something’s missing, unless I’m with someone.”
You looked over your shoulder to find Mrs. Machado in the kitchen, smiling happily at Rueben as he made her some tea. She had this aura of comfort around her, that of being loved and known, and wanting it for everyone around her. It wasn’t an energy you were super familiar with, but you could understand that it would be heavy for someone like Javy to bear.
And this was a terrible idea—you were gonna embarrass yourself at the least, potentially break your own heart at the worst—but you couldn’t say no.
“Okay,” you sighed. “So, how do we do this?”
Javy’s eyes closed for a moment in relief, and for a second you thought he was going to reach for you, but then he held himself steady, his hands clenching at his sides.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
You nodded, already regretting this, knowing if you could do it again, you’d choose the same result, every time.
“Yeah,” you said, rubbing at your temples briefly before looking back up at him. “Um, I guess, how much do you want me around? I’m sure you guys want time for just the two of you.”
Javy seemed to think it over. “I’ll probably take her to dinner tonight—she’ll invite you, but I think we can get you out of it. If…do you want to do breakfast tomorrow?”
Somewhere a trickster god was chortling, thrilled by Javy asking a question you’d never expected to hear, and in an entirely different context.
“I can do breakfast,” you said.
“Great,” Javy said, a full smile growing. “God, thank you. Great.”
And somewhere that same trickster god rolled their eyes, because you were a simpleton who’d do any number of ridiculous things to see that smile again.
Javy squeezed your shoulder lightly, moving to go around you before stopping himself and stepping back.
“You’ve never called me ‘Jay’ before,” he said, his expression curious.
And you hadn’t, never aloud. But in your texts to your girlfriends back home, you referred to him by his initial, just in case someone ever stole your phone.
“Yeah, well," you deferred, "Duckie was taken, so…”
Javy’s nose wrinkled as he tried not to laugh, and there it was, that smile again.
“I had a stuffed duck, when I was a kid,” he explained. “Took it everywhere with me, like some kids have their blankets…Momma always told me she loved me like I loved that duck, and it kind of stuck.”
“That’s adorable,” you said, honest.
Javy waved a hand, like it wasn’t anything, and then he looked back at you.
“I like it,” he said, something different in his voice. “Jay.”
You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you pressed your lips together and shrugged. Javy looked at you for a moment, then he tilted his head towards the group. You turned with him, following him back to the group, telling yourself it was going to be fine.
Of course, that was until Mrs. Machado insisted that they drive you home.
Thankfully, you were able to convince her to take the passenger seat, so as Mrs. Machado and Javy talked quietly, the soft music on the speakers kept their conversation from reaching you in the backseat. You leaned your head against the glass of the window, trying to recall the cross streets from memory, rather than think too hard about any part of tonight. The car was in park for a minute before you realized it was idling in front of your apartment.
“Oh, sorry,” you said quickly, sliding off your seatbelt and leaning forward to brush Mrs. Machado’s shoulder lightly, “it was so great to meet you. Thanks for driving me home.”
“Of course,” she beamed over her shoulder at you, reaching back to catch your hand in hers, and squeezing. “I’m so glad we’ll get to visit more tomorrow.”
You smiled back, then let go of her, sliding down to the seat to the door. As you unfolded yourself out of the backseat, Javy’s hand appeared on the car door, holding it open for you as you climbed out. He shut it behind you, walking beside you towards the door of your apartment.
You looked up at him out of the side of your eye.
People shouldn’t be pretty from this angle but he was. The moonlight seemed to highlight his long lashes, and the soft shadow they cast over his face.
“You don’t have to walk me,” you said under your breath, once you were out of hearing range of the car.
“Nah,” Javy said, his voice lower rather than quieter. “Momma knows I’d walk my girl to the door.”
It wasn’t a long walk up the driveway, but you seemed aware of every step. Or maybe the world just froze when Javy said my girl.
You glanced over at him again, admiring the way he looked perfectly at ease, his hands tucked into his pockets, steps slow to match your pace. You thought about how sweet his mother was, how excited she’d been at the prospect of spending time with you tomorrow. She was probably watching from the car now, and it did somewhat soothe the guilt in your chest, knowing that someone else had set a precedent for her, and she wouldn’t be too disappointed when her son calmly told her you had broken up.
“That’s good that she’s met others,” you said, climbing the first step to your porch, “it’s less intimidating to know I just have to be an average.”
Javy made a soft sound, something between a hum and an exhale, shoulders rising slightly in a shrug. “Actually, you’re the first since the Academy.”
You stopped on the step, turning to find Javy watching you closely. With the added height, the two of you were almost eye level, and your stomach flipped. His brown eyes seemed to glitter, something soft like starlight in them.
“But you said…” you trailed off, realizing Javy had said it was how he would be, not how he’d been. “Literally how is that possible?”
Javy smiled easily, looking back at the car, then back at you as he lifted his chin. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”
You smiled back, you couldn’t not, even as you shook your head, despite the heat crawling up your neck because you didn’t realize you’d said that out loud. He was too bright to leave you unaffected, so you stood there on the step, smiling like a fool at a man who somehow had no idea how much of a marvel he was.
Which is when you realized you were staring again.
“Well,” you said, looking away, taking another step up the porch, “thanks again for the ride home. And walking me up here, and I guess…I’m gonna go inside.”
“Oh,” Javy said it quietly, like he hadn’t meant to, like you’d surprised him. He nodded, and you waited for him to say something else, as he looked over his shoulder at the car, but then his easy smile was back again. “Yeah, no worries. Actually, thank you, right?”
You were pretty sure the moonlight was playing tricks on you.
Because there was something in Javy’s expression that you hadn’t seen before, something that looked like uncertainty, something almost like wondering. The extra step put you almost taller than him, your faces closer than you’d expected. Javy blinked slowly, his gaze darting down to your mouth before he stepped back a half pace, like he’d remembered something.
It had to be the moonlight, or you were seeing things.
But you were the first person that’d come to mind when he’d needed a lie, and that had to count for something, right, and he’d looked for a moment like he was trying to think of a reason to keep you on the porch.
You reached for him, your fingers curling around the back of his neck and the slightest pull was enough for him to take back that half step, then more, closer, which was enough for you to know it wasn’t just the moon, and you kissed him.
Or you meant to.
The moment your lips brushed against his, Javy’s hands were on your waist, his long fingers spreading across your lower back, his body heat seemingly burning through the thin fabric of your shirt, like he needed to hold onto you. And then you weren’t kissing him, because he was kissing you, something that you couldn’t quite believe was happening. It was slow and soft and absolutely devastating, as unrealistically perfect as only Javy could be.
And then it was over, just as quickly as it had happened.
Javy’s lips lifted from yours, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulled back entirely. Still two steps down, you liked how he looked, looking up at you.
“I’ll wait till you get inside,” Javy asked softly, his voice like velvet, and you nodded, very uncertain if you could find words. You rested a hand on his shoulder to lean down to wave at the car, and Mrs. Machado, who was practically beaming back at you, before letting go and walking up to unlock the door. You let yourself in, turning just inside the frame to find Javy still watching you.
“Night, Jay,” you said.
Javy’s lips parted at the nickname, then he smiled at you, bright as the noonday sun.
“Night, Cross,” he said. His hands were in his pockets and he took a step back from you, waiting for you to shut the door. You did, leaning your back up against it, and waited for the sounds of the car starting and them driving away.
Now, what the hell had that been about? And, more importantly, how were you supposed to survive tomorrow?
//
next chapter
taglist: @peakyrogers @mxgyver @princessphilly @hangmanbrainrot @wildbornsiren @roosterforme @blowmymbackout @datemephoenix @fuckyeahhangman @lt-bradshaw @double-j @callsignvalley @sebsxphia @javihoney @jadore-andor @rosiahills22 @andrewrussgarfield @teacupsandtopgun i don't have a coyote list yet bc this is my first writing for him, so if any of you folks would like to be not included, please do let me know!
#javy “coyote” machado#javy machado fic#javy coyote macado#javy machado#javy machado x reader#javy coyote machado x reader#javy machado x you#coyote x you#coyote x reader#misskielwrites#god why is hitting publish so nervewracking???#i hope y'all like this chapter#i have a lot i want to do in ch 3 and ch 4 but this is necessary for now#a smidge of pining is good for the soul right#coyote x cross
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Torture
Plot: Rooster makes a bet with Y/n that if he can beat Hangman's flight time on a new training course, he gets a kiss. Y/n agrees, but this means no kisses for Rooster until he wins.
Requested Prompt: "You owe me a kiss."
Requested By: Anonymous
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x GN!Reader
*Reader is referenced of having the call sign 'Caelus' (Roman God of the sky)
Warnings: Kissing, if that wasn't obvious from the description lol
Words: 1.3k
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Your eyes glanced over the other pilots as they ran past, completing their workouts for the evening. You silently thanked yourself for having worked out earlier in the day rather than now after a long day of flying.
Hearing the padding of footsteps coming from behind you, you assumed it was just another student on a run, until you felt large arms wrap around your waist suddenly.
You let out a gasp as you were lifted off the ground, followed by a familiar laugh.
You held in a laugh as you groaned out "Put me down Bradley!"
As you were placed not so softly back down, you were spun around and pulled into Bradley's chest. He grinned down at you with a dopey smile that you couldn't help but smile at in return.
"Hey sunshine." He said softly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
Still smiling, you pushed him away with a fake grimace "Ugh, So sweaty!"
He let out a soft laugh "Oh come on, it's not that bad."
You let out a soft giggle as he pulled you towards him again, his arm slung over yours shoulders. As you began waling towards the barracks, you wrapped your arm around his back.
"I hope you're going to the showers."
"I just happen to be, why, wanna come with?"
"You wish."
"Yes, I very much do." He replied quickly with a smile as he looked down at you and wiggled his eyebrows playfully. You rolled your eyes, but let out a soft giggle.
"Hey Rooster, Caelus!" You and Bradley both looked over as Coyote ran past "You hear that Hangman beat the record on the new training course?"
"What time did he get?!" Bradley called out.
"Three fourteen!" Coyote yelled back as he continued running.
You looked up and saw Roosters contemplative face. Looking down at you he nodded lightly "I can beat that, easy."
You squeezed his side "Sure you can big guy."
He looked down at you with a face akin to offence "You don't think I can?"
You let out a soft laugh "I know you could. And, I know you are going to try your hardest, but, not because you want to get a good time, but just because you want to beat Hangman."
"Yeah, and whats wrong with that?"
"You get flustered when you get competitive."
"So,I make mistakes?"
"I did not say that!"
He smiled teasingly before he nodded "I bet you, I can beat him."
Reaching the barracks you stopped at the door "Oh we're betting now are we?"
"Oh yeah." He took a step closer and leaned down a bit "I bet you a kiss I can beat him."
You shook your head as you smiled at him "And if you don't beat him?"
"You get to say I told you so."
You hummed "Nah, not good enough."
"Okay, I'll buy you dinner."
You let out a dramatic gasp as you placed your hand on your chest "He knows me!"
He chuckled as he stepped closer, pulling you towards him "So we got a deal?"
You eyed him, before an idea popped into your head. "Okay, you got a deal." You gently pushed him away "Now go shower before you attract the wildlife."
He let out a small bark of laughter "Okay, okay."
Before he left, he started pulling you closer again, leaning in for a kiss. Lifting up your hand you placed it on his lips, stopping him.
You saw his eyes dart from your hand to your eyes, his brow furrowing. Stepping away from him you repressed a grin, pulling open the door behind you.
"Sorry Roost, but no kiss until you win the bet."
You saw his lips start to curl into a smile before he paused and his face dropped. "Wait, seriously?"
As you stepped inside and let the door go you nodded "Seriously"
Seeing the look of offense and shock cross his face just as the door shut between you, you were unable to hold back the laugh that bubbled up. 'That should motivate him' you thought to yourself as you headed towards your quarters.
--- --- ---
You sat with Phoenix, Coyote, Hangman and a couple other students in the training room, eyes on the screen at the front of the room as Bradley began to start the training course.
You had gone earlier in the day, getting three minutes twenty three seconds, and scoring third in the class so far, only two seconds slower than Phoenix. You hoped for Bradley's sake you'd be fourth at the end of his turn, and that he'd be first.
Glancing over at Hangman, you saw a cocky grin on his face. Looking over, he locked eyes with you and winked. You rolled your eyes before looking back at the screen. You hoped Bradley would wipe that smug look off his face.
More than way through the course, you were hopeful, and Hangman was clearly nervous. Bradley was already three seconds ahead of Hangman's time, but you knew he could lose that lead quickly.
"Come on Brad." You whispered to yourself.
Another minute later and your cheering, Phoenix is clapping beside you, both of you relishing in the angry look on Hangman's face, as the time on the screen read three minutes and ten seconds.
"He got lucky." Hangman offered as he began to leave.
"If that's what helps you get to sleep at night Bagman." You said over your shoulder as you headed out the doors to meet Bradley.
As you walked across the tarmac, you could see the grin on Bradley's face from a mile away as he came out of the hangar. He spread out his arms before he spun around in celebration. You let out a soft laugh as you bowed jokingly.
"Now was I good or was I great?!" He called out.
You smiled and nodded your head, allowing him to gloat "You were great." He grinned as he stopped in front of you "I just wish you could have seen the look on Hangman's face when you beat his time."
He groaned "Oh God I bet that was great."
"His ego definitely took a hit."
"Eh, he'll shake it off, unfortunately." A grin spread across his face. "Now, if I am correct, which I know I am. You owe me a kiss. Actually, scratch that, you owe me four."
"Oh do I now?"
He nodded "Yeah you do. Since you decided no kisses until I won the bet. Last night, no good night kiss, that's one. This morning, no good morning kiss, that's two. Before I flew the course? No good luck kiss, that's three. And now, number four because I beat the course. And I think four works great, seeing as that's how many seconds-"
You let out a laugh before you leaned up quickly, grabbing his face and pressing a kiss to his lips. You felt him freeze for a second before he melted into the kiss. Pulling away you giggled softly as his soft eyes gazed at you.
His lips curled into a bright smile "It was torture not kissing you, you know."
You smiled up at him, your hands still holding his face "Was it?"
He nodded "Absolute torture. I live off those kisses."
"Then I'm sorry I deprived you of them."
He nodded "You should be."
Pulling his face down lightly, you kissed him again. His hands gently grabbed your waist, and as you pulled away he softly hummed. "Two."
Another kiss, this time his arms wrapped fully around you as he pulled you closer. When you pulled away he kept his forehead pressed against your own as he brought his hand up, caressing your face "Three." He muttered.
You wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed again, the fourth owed kiss. He squeezed you closer as he deepened the kiss, briefly lifting your feet of the ground as he did so.
Finally pulling away, a little breathless, he cupped your face. "I love you sunshine."
"And I love you Bradley." Pressing another quick kiss to his lips before pulling away from him, you smiled "That one was for free."
xx End xx
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Abs Sans Brain
Top Gun: Maverick - Jake “Hangman” Seresin x f!pilotreader [no use of y/n]
2.6k || Your date with Jake at the Hard Deck is crashed by the rest of the squad.
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Genre: Fluffy, flirty, and funky
CW: Swearing, drinking
Author’s Note: I’m writing this before I start writing the fic itself. I’m shooting for 600 - 800 words. Please laugh at me when we see how wrong I end up being. Oh, and the reader is best friends with Bob because I said so. || cross-posted on ao3
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There were very few things you had asked for in life. Good health, good people, and the entire sky at your disposal. A small list, if a bit demanding. One thing you hadn’t been expecting when you’d asked for the Heavens was all those who came with it. In particular, Jake Seresin, who slid into the booth across from you. Beers in hand, grin in place.
“Come here often, doll?”
You roll your eyes at him. A movement that does little to hide the smile blooming across your lips. “I can’t believe I ever let that line work on me.”
“In your defense,” he said, taking a long swig of his beer. “The first time I used that line, we were thousands of feet in the sky. It’s where I’m at my most irresistible.”
“Ah, yes. That must have been it. Everywhere else you’re just insufferable.” You laughed and took a significantly smaller sip of your beer. It’s your second one in ten minutes. “If I didn’t know you any better, Seresin, I’d say you’re trying to get me drunk here.”
“Tryin’?” he scoffed, “and you say you know me.”
The unfortunate thing about this whole situation was that you did know Jake. You knew him well, better than Coyote. You knew his favorite color was yellow. That’s why it had been put in his helmet. (He’d also left off the ‘a’ in his helmet because the idea of filling it in to say ‘Hungman’ fit his sixth grade sense of humor). You knew he over-exaggerated his southern drawl whenever you walked into a room because you’d once drunkenly admitted to him that hearing him talk flooded your mind with dirty thoughts. You knew Jake’s mind was fifty percent dirty thoughts, twenty-five percent sky, twenty percent you, five percent ways to school you at cards and five percent cheeky comebacks he was sitting on to annoy the rest of the squad with. And, most disheartening of all, you knew Jake was not a romantic.
It didn’t bother him that date night was a few beers, fried food, and a game of pool. It didn’t bother you either. Not entirely, but you were hoping for one night where you could dress up nice and go out somewhere fancy. Somewhere along the lines of joining the military and ending up at TOPGUN the line of being feminine had been blurred. Commanders couldn’t understand why you’d want to put on a bit of mascara to fly a plane. In the same stretch of imagination, Hangman seemingly couldn’t put it together that you’d like a bit of romance in your life beyond the cheesy pickup lines and pet names.
If you could add anything to your list of ‘good health, good people, and the entire sky’ it would be a few nice dates. You’d say nothing fancy, but you wouldn’t mean it. You wanted fancy. Even if it was just to realize that fancy is actually not what you wanted at all. Something to change up the pace of playing pool with Jake and being hit on by him like you were his latest conquest and not his girlfriend of six months.
Part of you felt like you were being slightly unfair.
“Your turn, doll,” Jake said, but when you went to pass in front of him he grabbed you by your belt loop. He pulled you back towards him, matching your laugh, and captured your lips with his.
Moments like these almost had you convinced that maybe you could push those selfish date ideas off to the side. Jake liked showing off. He liked being able to flirt with you in a place where you could laugh loudly and no one would look at you weird. He liked being able to slip out the back door to walk down the beach with you under the stars.
“If it’s my turn,” you said between kisses, “then let me shoot the ball.”
Reluctantly, he let go of your waist and you positioned yourself to sink yet another ball into the pocket. You planned to kick his ass in an embarrassingly short amount of time to get the pettiness out of your system, then enjoy your night together.
Except for the fact that the front bell chimed, and familiar shouts filled the bar. Familiar because you’d heard them less than an hour ago. You considered altering your list once more. ‘Good people who knew when not to come get a drink.’
“Hangman!” Payback shouted across the bar. “Rack ‘em up. Rooster was just telling me how the two of you ended in a tie game last week.”
Jake’s laughter filled your ears. He still had a hand on the small of your back, but his attention was entirely on your group of friends trailing through the door. “Chicken doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about. I smoked his ass.”
“I’d like to see you put your money where your mouth is, Seresin. Unless you’re still broke from the last time I kicked your ass.”
Rooster headed over to the pool table followed closely by Fanboy and Coyote. Payback, scribbling in a notebook, hung back for a moment. Then opened his mouth to edge the tension on a bit more. You knew your date night had been pushed aside, so you took it upon yourself to step off to the side yourself.
Phoenix smiled at you, waving, and tilted her head. “I thought you guys were on a date?” She asked. You shot her a look that said ‘We’ll talk later.’ Natasha let out a laugh. “Sorry. Look, I’ll get you something strong to drink.”
“Make it a double!” You called out after her as she made her way over to the bar where she’d be trapped by millions of questions from Penny. The sound of your name, your government name, being called by a certain southern drawl caught your attention. “Yes, love?” You asked, hoping that your boyfriend was about to make an unexpected promise that the two of you could leave after one game.
“What’s the matter, darlin’?” Jake nudged you softly with his shoulder then threw his head over in Bradley’s direction. “We can always just ask the peanut squad to leave. The small man will only get so much smaller when I whoop his ass for the hundredth time”
Rooster stiffens, almost to attention. He holds the pool cue next to him. Straight and tall. “I’m taller than you are, Bagman.”
It had become a trend of sorts to refer to Jake with various insults that fell so effortlessly from Bob’s mouth. You had tried your hardest to resist, out of solidarity for your boyfriend, some of the nicknames were too creative to avoid… and it gave you an excuse to make Jake try and draw his true name from your lips.
“I wasn’t referring to that kind of height, Chick.”
“C’mon, Jake,” you whine, “can you please just be the polite Jake I know you to be?”
“Oxymoron!” Rooster calls from across the pool table to which Jake whirls around and says, “What the fuck did you just call me?”
You shoot a glare in Bradley’s direction. “Seriously?” Out of the corner of your eye you see Payback pulling that same little notebook out of his pocket to make a mark. You turn on him. “And what the hell are you doing?”
He turns the page towards you. On it in crude, unintelligible handwriting is what you can only assume to be two columns labeled “Hangman” and “Rooster” with a series of ticks beneath them. Jake in the lead by a long shot. “I like to keep track.”
In the corner, you noticed when you squinted to read the handwriting, was a third little box. Completely full of ticks. “Who is that?”
“Bob,” Payback said at the same time Bob said, “Mine.”
You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to Jake. “Can I talk to you?”
Your tone is enough to etch worry on his face. He set his pool cue against the table, grabbed you by the waist, and pulled you off to the side. “What’s wrong, doll?”
“This isn’t a date.” The whiny lit to your voice didn’t make you feel the most sexy, but you’d tried seducing Jake to go to a movie so the two of you could make out in the dark instead and that hadn’t worked. Pouting was your last resort. “Every time we go on a date, they show up. They’re like fleas!”
“At least fleas can do tricks.” Jake turned to look over his shoulder. “Rooster can’t even hit a ball straight.”
“Jake, I’m being serious. Why won’t you just take me on a date? A real one.”
“Look, pretty girl, I’ll make a deal with you.”
You side-eyed him, unconvinced, and sighed. “Lucky me.”
“Play me in darts. I win, we stay and hang out with everyone. Lord knows Rooster and Phoenix need to be humbled in pool. Plus, you’re the only one here who can get Bob to do enough shots to start doing karaoke.” He rests his forehead against yours. “I know how much you love his drunk renditions of ‘Sweet Caroline.’”
Jake had a point. There had been one night - shockingly, another date night at the Hard Deck turned into a group activity - where you went to sulk in a booth while your schmooze of a boyfriend fueled his bromance with Coyote, Rooster, and Payback. Bob, still not the biggest partier, had grown tired of the swapping insults over darts and was worn out from dodging Phoenix and Fanboy’s attempts to get him to dance with them. So he’d ended up in the booth across from you.
You’d been pounding back shots of tequila like they were water. “He’s stupid,” you had slurred to Bob, “but you’re not stupid. You’re fun. Here, do a shot with me. Let’s be fun.”
He would tell you the next day that he had only intended to do one shot but one turned into two which turned into four which turned into Bob unplugging the jukebox to sing a melody of songs from your Grandma’s playlist with impressive range. After each one he would make sure to point you out of the gathering crowd of dazzled patrons. “This one’s for her!” He’d shout in dedication and start up singing again.
It hadn’t been a bad night then, and, even though you’d never admit it to Jake, you had a lot of fun. Tonight would be the same if you could let yourself stop moping long enough to enjoy it. But there was still the matter of:
“What if I win?” You ask. Competition was the reason you were here on the West Coast to begin with. You were the best of the best because you refused to let anyone else get the upper hand on you. “What do I get then, Seresin?”
“If you win,” Jake said, slowly kneading your hips with his hands. “I will take you out on another date - a fancy one. With roses and the opening of doors and the biggest bottle of wine this nice restaurant downtown has to offer. I’ll dress up and give you the most romantic night of your life. But tonight we’ll stay here and do everything we’d do anyway if I had win.”
“If I win.”
“If you win… but you won’t.”
He didn’t have to say it for you to know it was true. He threw darts the same way he flew planes: with deadly precision. There was a reason Hangman was the only one out of everyone in their generation with two confirmed kills. He could land a shot with his eyes closed. In the air and with two feet planted firmly on the hardwood floors of the Hard Deck.
“That’s not fair at all.”
“I don’t make the rules, sweet thing.” That stupid smirk was back on his face. The two of you hadn’t made it back to your booth yet for appetizers, otherwise there’d surely be a toothpick rolling between those lips of his too. “C’mon, we’ll make it easy. Three darts each. Most points win.”
“That’s not how you play darts, Jake. Even I know that.”
“Bagman,” Payback called out, “what are you doing, the balls are racked?”
You went to grab the darts from the board as Jake said, “Kicking my girl’s ass in darts as a warm up for kicking your sorry asses in every game after.”
“Ladies first,” you gestured, mimicking his smug smirk. He glared playfully at you but stepped up to throw the first dart in a movement almost too quick for you to see. A perfect bullseye. “Show off.”
“Got to put some skin in the game.” Jake moved you in front of him. His hands gripping your waist to hold you in place as he pressed kisses to your neck. “I like your skin better, darlin’.”
You shooed him away. The dart felt heavy in your hand. Screwing this up would essentially be throwing away your only sure shot at the date of your dreams. You lifted your arm and threw the dart. It flew, fitting itself snugly into the single bull.
Jake’s turn. He moved just as quickly as the first time, but the angle he shot at landed the dart in a single scoring 18. Winning was still well within your grasp. A decent date was inching closer and closer.
Your turn. A deep steady breath. This dart felt weightless. An extension of yourself. You throw the dart in a less fluid motion than Jake, but manage to stick it in the bullseye right next to his.
“Look at that!” You shouted, pointing and jumping. Joy overwhelmed you not just because you were currently winning, but because this had been the first bullseye you’d made without Jake helping you in the slightest. He’d likely still claim this victory as his. It was his silly deal that made you so determined in the first place.
Jake’s final turn. He still had the chance to put you in the dust. Your eyes were glued to the board, but the dart never came. When you turned to look at him, Jake threw the dart at the ground. “You win,” he said, but you shook your head. Eyes back to the board. You won even without throwing this last dart.
You snapped your head in his direction, ready to call him out for cheating, but you were cut off by Jake’s lips crashing onto yours. He pulled away quickly, muttered a small, “You really think I’d deny you anything, doll?” then rushed off to join the restless group at the pool table. Leaving you to glance from the stray dart stuck in the floor and the man you were beginning to fall for at the pool table.
Phoenix saddled up next to you, drink in hand, and passed one over to you. “What did he promise you if you won?”
“A real date.”
“The fancy one with all that inspiration you’ve been sending me on Pintrest.”
“That’s the one.”
She let out a low whistle. “Wow, and I thought he loved you just by the way he looked at you, but this is something else. He’s smitten.”
“I guess I have that effect on some people,” you said and hid your giddy grin with a sip of your drink. “Did you ask Penny to get the tequila shots ready?”
“The real question is if we’re ready to hear Bob signing.”
This might just be one of your favorite dates yet.
===
oneshot taglist:
@rosiahills22 @pono-pura-vida @gizmodear
#Jake 'Hangman" Seresin#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman x you#Jake hangman seresin x reader#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x you#hangman#jake hangman x reader#hangman x y/n#hangman x reader#reader pov#reader#Jake hangman sersin x reader#top gun#top gun maverick#top gun imagine#hangman top gun#top gun fic#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw#mickey 'fanboy' garcia#javy coyote machado#natasha phoenix trace#robert bob floyd#reuben payback fitch#the hard deck#penny benjamin#fluff#flirting#banter#jake seresin fluff
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do you want me to lie, sir? pt.2
Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F!Reader/F!MitchellReader
summary: jake has been busy with mav's stupid trainings. trainings disguised to keep him from you.
t/w: implied smut 18+ please, soft!jake, soft!mav
Maverick has been keeping Hangman busy since the night he caught you coming out of his room.
Of course, Hangman thought the two of you were in the clear once you batted your big ol' eyes at your father.
Mav's got such a soft spot for you. His only child, only daughter.
"25 more, Lieutenant," Hondo tells him. Hangman internally rolls his eyes. Mav punished him to 75 push ups because it looked like he was going to leave his wingman.
**
Coyote and Hangman are leaning back against the bar waiting for their beers that evening.
"So, how are you and y/n?" He asks.
Hangman rolls his eyes, outwardly this time, since there is no one to tack on more pushups for the disrespect.
"Haven't seen her since that night," he tells Coyote.
Coyote's mouth pulls up in the corner, thinking about the chaos of the night. He was sad to have missed it. He hurriedly corrects his smile at Hangman's glare.
Penny sets the beers onto the counter and winks at Hangman. Of course Penny is in the know. Mav has probably been whining to her about it.
As Hangman turns back toward the pool tables, you make your entrance.
**
This hasn't been easy on you, either. You miss cuddling into those big arms. You miss his small kisses on your temple. The ones he gives without much thought. The simpleness of the intimacy makes your stomach jump.
Tonight, you dressed to kill. You can see it in the way Jake's eyes trail down your body from where he leans next to Coyote. You don't miss the gulp that goes down his throat either.
The black body con dress is working.
It isn't lost on you that your father is behind all the time Jake is spending away from you. You expected more from your cocky fighter pilot, though. Figured he be defying Maverick the first second he could.
But he hasn't. He's been respectful of it? Totally out of character.
Which is why you have to fight dirty.
You don't approach him, content to just watch him from the opposite side of the bar. His hand not holding his beer curls into and out of a fist, a la Pride and Prejudice style.
You allow your right eye to fall into a wink and then gesture toward the door. Not the front one. The one in the back. The one only you know about thanks to Penny. Jake answers your wink with a sensual smirk and murmurs something to Coyote before meeting you in the back.
Jake sandwiches you between him and the door. His strong body towers over you, heating you up all over. You reach behind you and turn the doorknob, both of you falling into the storage room.
Surrounded by bottles of liquor, Jake places his lips against yours and everything feels right in the world. Jake's hands rest on your hips, his thumbs digging in to pull you closer. You hook your arms around his neck and he follows by lifting you around his waist. He walks the two of you back against the door.
"Your father has been the absolute cock block," Jake tells you.
"Never say that sentence again," you giggle into his chest.
You never discussed your dating life with your father. You'd hope you'd just charm your way through it. Your father is still hellbent on assuming Jake is going to fuck something up.
"I know how guys like Hangman are!" he shouted once you followed him into the house. "Hell, I was Hangman!"
You crossed your arms. "So Penny doesn't need to be with you, then?"
Mav got that look on his face, the same one he gets when Cyclone calls him out on his bullshit.
The two of you didn't get farther than that, and your dad has kept Jake busy with pointless training exercises.
Jake pulls you back to the present by taking your lips in-between his teeth, gaining an unsolicited moan from you.
"Come back to the present with me, please," he says low against your ear. Your body reacts with goosebumps and a deep longing for the man pressing you against this door. "How good can it be inside that brain of yours when I am right here?"
"Oh shut up," you whisper against his mouth before deepening your kiss. You elicit a surprised groan from him as you grind against his erection. Allowing your hands to fall from his neck, you begin to fiddle with the button on his pants.
To hell with your fairytale first time with Jake.
Jake stops you. One hand on yours, the other keeping you around his waist.
"Baby, stop," he says quietly. That voice cutting through the noise in your brain. "You don't want to do it like this."
"But I want you," you tell him, feeling slightly rejected.
Jake leans forward, placing a soft kiss against your temple, calming you.
"Do you not want me anymore?" you manage to ask. Your voice small, hating that you let the question even leave your mouth.
Jake's finger comes under your chin, craning your face to look at him. "Believe me, stopping you from grabbing my cock is the hardest thing I have ever done." He kisses your temple again. That small reassurance fills you up. "But I know how important this is for you. I can't have sex with you in the middle of your stepmom's liquor stock."
You have to admit, seeing this soft side of Jake just makes you want him even more. If you'd been any other girl, he wouldn't have hesitated. But he did with you.
Because he loves you. Your brought back to that night. When he said it and you knew it was time. Time to take your relationship to the next level. It also hits you that you never got a chance to say it back to him.
"I love you, Jake," you whisper, laying your forehead into his chest. Jake chuckles into your hair.
"Take me home, Jake," you say. He sets you down and takes your hand in his. Carefully, he pulls the door open, and as he takes a step back out into the bar, he shoves you back in. Blocking you with his body, you can't see what's going on.
"Lieutenant," your father's voice says.
"Captain," Jake answers back, just as stoic.
"You hiding my baby girl?"
Jake squares up just a bit. "Do you want me to lie, sir?"
"I think that would be best."
"Nope."
Not being able to take this same song and dance, you poke around Jake.
"Maverick, you have to chill out." Your dad is taken back at the use of his callsign. He much prefers Dad or Pops.
You don't back down. "I am a grown woman. You cannot hate the people I date unless there is a legit reason I should be worried." You cock an eyebrow, silently asking Well, is there?
Jake stands behind you, letting you take control. Not wanting to dig himself into a hole. Mav can appreciate that. His little girl is strong enough on her own, and Jake knows this.
Maverick looks over your shoulder at Jake. "Hangman, if you hurt her, I swear--"
Jake cuts him off. "You don't have to worry about that." His hand encircles your waist from behind, pulling you into him. "I'm in love with her, sir."
This declaration softens your fathers eyes. It almost looks like he's going to cry?
Nah, Mav wouldn't cry over something like this.
Or would he?
You clear your throat. "We, uh, were just going to head out. Going to the, uh, house. You and Penny seem plenty busy here."
"To go watch watch movies I hope," he says, eyes sad and scared.
"Do you want me to lie, Pop?"
"That would be best, daughter."
"Sure, movies."
You grab Jake's hand and step around your father before he can say anything. Over your shoulder, you see him shaking his head before heading into the stock room for whatever Penny sent him after.
a/n: so sorry for my unplanned hiatus. i had to administer state testing to my fifths, and then school let out a week early and we had to cram all our end of the year fun into a few weeks. i also started my masters degree. tbh, i have been feeling a little uninspired. hopefully i will be back to posting regularly!
#top gun maverick#top gun#top gun maverick fic#jake seresin smut#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin fic#jake seresin#jake seresin x you#jake seresin fanfiction#hangman top gun#hangman fic#hangman x oc#hangman imagine#hangman x reader
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Two to Tango Part 1 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley isn't afraid of a little competition between the Naval aviators and Air Force pilots. And when you prove to be as good as you claimed, he refuses to back down.
Warnings: Adult banter, swearing
Length: 2800 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This fic was written for a request! Thanks for reading! And please check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun.
"This is the worst fucking week of the whole goddamn year," Bradley muttered to Phoenix, Hangman, and Coyote as they stood on the blazing hot tarmac in southern Nevada.
"Seven days of training with these assholes," Phoenix added, lowering her sunglasses to the tip of her nose and glaring at the four US Air Force pilots standing a few feet away.
"I love how Maverick told us we were lucky to be the four who were chosen, when honestly nobody wants to be here," Coyote complained, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his flight suit.
"Let's torch these losers and get back to San Diego," Hangman said with a devilish grin.
"Doubt any of them can even fly well enough to compete," Bradley said, eyeing up the pilot who just spun around to face him.
"Excuse me?" you said, strolling confidently toward him with your chin in the air. "What did you just say?"
Bradley smirked. He didn't care if you were going to call him out; he and the other Naval aviators were the best, and he could back up his words any day of the week. Plus you were kind of cute, and getting you all flustered could be fun for him.
"We were just discussing your ineptitude. Well, not yours specifically, sweetheart. Just the general incompetence of Air Force aviators in general," Bradley said, and he heard his friends hooting with laughter around him.
He had expected you to blow up at him, but your placid smile was almost more alarming. "It's really cute, sweetheart, how you think you're better because you can land on a boat. When really, nobody gives a fuck about you at all," you stated calmly.
Bradley would never admit that he was the one who was feeling flustered, so he just crossed his arms over his chest and said, "It takes real skill to land on an aircraft carrier. Runways are for amateurs," he said, inching closer to you.
"It's almost cute how stupid you are," you told him. "What's your dumb call sign?"
"Rooster," he told you, and you smirked. "What's yours?"
"Tango. As in you don't want to tango with me, sweetheart. So since you're running your mouth, why don't we make a little wager?" you asked, standing your ground as Bradley and his cohorts laughed at you.
"What did you have in mind?" he asked.
"Two hundred bucks says Air Force ends the week with more points than Navy," you told him, glaring at him over your sunglasses.
Bradley nodded slowly. "Okay, sounds good. But, if I end up with more points than you, you've gotta say something nice about me in front of everyone."
You chuckled. "And if I end up with more points than you, you'll be the one saying something oh so flattering about me."
Bradley stuck his right hand out and you took it in your smaller one. "Deal. Sweetheart," you told him before turning and stomping away in your boots, back to the other Air Force pilots.
"You've got nothing to worry about," Phoenix said, patting Bradley on the shoulder. "We're gonna smoke them."
--------------------------------------------------
The following morning, Bradley was awake at five and stretching. He'd have a full day of long distance running and obstacle course races ahead of him, and he was determined to take a massive lead in points right off the bat. No way he was going to lose money to a bunch of whiney Air Force pilots who wouldn't be able to cut it at Top Gun.
He was the first one in the cafeteria, and he selected his breakfast very carefully, trying to get the maximum amount of calories he could. When he turned to find a seat, he saw you breeze into the room. Out of your flight suit, you looked hotter than hell, and Bradley almost dropped his tray of food.
"Morning, sweetheart," you crooned, barely glancing at him as you grabbed a bunch of random food. Your athletic pants were skin tight, and your matching shirt left very little to the imagination and showed off an inch of skin all the way around your waist. Your hair was pulled back showing off your neck and upper back, and Bradley was so mad at himself for picking a fight with you. Because now you automatically found him annoying, while he was thinking about how much he'd like to touch you.
You turned away from the food, leaving him in the dust while he stared at your ass. Now he was distracted. A distraction would be very bad. Especially when his reputation was on the line. "Fuck," he muttered.
He went to sit down at the table where you were already eating alone. "That seat's taken," you told him when he pulled out a chair. When he reached for the one next to it, you told him, "That one is, too."
"Let me guess," he rasped, setting his tray down anyway. "They're all taken."
You smiled at him while you licked your lips. "You're not as dumb as you look."
Bradley just smirked and sat down directly across from you. "And you're not as sweet and friendly as you look," he said before shoving half of a breakfast sandwich into his mouth and chewing it up.
"You think I look sweet?" you asked, leaned a little closer to him across the table.
Bradley let his eyes dip down to your mouth and then your neck before sweeping back to your eyes. "I didn't mean it as a compliment."
Your smile never wavered. "That's fine, because I lied to you."
"About what?" he asked, eyes narrowed.
"You are as dumb as you look," you told him, nodding at someone behind him. "The seats really are taken."
Bradley turned to see your Air Force teammates looking at him like he'd lost his mind. "You're sitting with us? You know this is a competition, right?" one of them asked.
"This asshole bothering you, Tango?" asked the biggest guy, and Bradley turned back to look at you, your face shining with mirth.
"Nah, Killer," you replied, looking right at Bradley. "He's just a dumb pussycat. Couldn't hurt a fly."
Bradley desperately wanted to keep teasing you, but not with company around. "Should I go then?" Bradley asked as he started to stand.
"No, why don't you stay and get to know the guys. They aren't as sweet and friendly as I am, sweetheart," you told him, walking away without a backward glance.
And then Bradley had to endure the most uncomfortable breakfast of his life.
----------------------------
Bradley was two miles into the ten mile run, and he was feeling great. He was keeping pace with Hangman, saving as much energy as he could for the last mile. He ran side by side with Jake, neither of them talking. The sun was intense, and he had already soaked through his compression shorts and his US NAVY TOP GUN tee shirt. But he was determined to win.
At mile six, you came out of nowhere and caught up with Bradley and Jake.
"Hey, boys," you said casually. You barely sounded winded at all, and instead of pouring sweat, you looked as good as you had at breakfast. "You guys look a little warm," you said, taking in Bradley's sweaty form from head to toe. "See you at the finish."
Then you tore off ahead of them. Bradley was impressed and once again distracted by your ass. He tried his best to keep up, but it seemed like you kept gaining on him.
"Damn. She's fast," Jake huffed next to him, and Bradley just grunted. "How much money did you bet?"
"Shit," Bradley gasped, trying to pick up the pace.
-----------------------------
You had been waiting for him at the finish line, cheering him on by chanting "Rooster!" very loudly and looking like you'd barely broken a sweat. Meanwhile, Bradley had a horrible stitch in his side and was doubled over. He wasn't sure how he was going to manage doing the obstacle course after this, let alone try to beat you at it.
"You okay, old man?" you asked, crouching down next to him and smirking.
Bradley turned to look at you. "How old do you think I am?"
"Too old to beat me," you replied, shoving a water bottle in his face. "Drink up. It will be more fun for me to destroy you in the obstacle course if you're properly hydrated."
Then you walked away, and Bradley had to admit he kind of liked your smart mouth.
Once the points were tallied after the ten mile run, the Air Force team was leading by a small margin. Bradley was angry as he confronted his teammates. "Okay, who dropped the ball?" he asked, eyeing Coyote with one eyebrow raised.
"I'm not a runner! I'll destroy them on the obstacle course," Coyote promised, and Bradley knew he would.
Bradley also knew he was exhausted while you looked like you were ready to tear up every obstacle in your way. "Yeah, Tango," the guys on your team all said, giving you high fives.
It was one thing to be the best on the ground, but being the best in the air was where Bradley would shine. So he would try to get a good time on the course and then focus on the rest of the week.
Everyone groaned when they got to the course after lunch. It looked like a mud pit that was now baking in the sun, and Bradley thought he would rather run another ten miles than have to do this shit.
"Let's work as a team to start," Phoenix told the guys. "I am going to need help getting over the second and third walls quickly." So they came up with a game plan to boost Nat over the walls since she was much shorter than they were. Then she would have no trouble crawling under the ropes that came next. Each of them had their strengths, and they would stick together when they could.
Both teams lined up, and when the whistle was blown, they were off. Bradley watched out of the corner of his eye to see that the Air Force team went with the same game plan. They were boosting you over the wall at the same time Bradley was practically throwing Phoenix over. Then he used all of his upper body strength to pull himself up and over. The next few walls were taller, and Coyote had to have Phoenix practically stand on his shoulders so the guys could use her body to pull themselves up.
"Fuck!" Phoenix yelled. "You weigh a shit ton, Bradley!"
"I'm sorry," he gasped, pulling her over the wall with him once he had reached the top. Then he reached down to give Hangman a hand to grab.
Navy was pulling ahead of Air Force, but Bradley was determined to keep the lead. Now everyone was starting to work more independently, and he could see that you were ahead of him going through the tires. Bradley forced himself to move, shoving his larger form under the ropes and diving into the mud when necessary.
Coyote, Phoenix and Hangman were all close behind him, and he tried to encourage them along. But when it came to the mile run back to the starting line, Bradley went full force. He was gaining on you now, each of his strides counting for two of yours. Pumping his arms and gasping for air as his chest and throat burned, he caught up to you just as you crossed the line.
"A tie!" the officer with the stopwatch said. "And the best course time this year!"
Bradley watched you walk in a circle before you bent in half with your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath. Much less gracefully, he plopped down into more mud and rolled onto his back, baking in the sun and sucking in air.
When he opened his eyes a few seconds later, you were making your way toward him with your hand outstretched. Bradley gave you a high five and let you help him to his feet.
"Impressive, old man," you told him. Bradley rolled his eyes as he stood, massaging the stitch in his side.
"Yeah, well..." he started, just as he saw his teammates in the distance. "Age comes with experience."
You narrowed your eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Bradley just shrugged as he looked at you. "I'm just saying, it must be nice to win races because of age and stamina, but that has nothing to do with your flying."
Your eyes went wide and you took a step closer to him. "Listen up, sweetheart. I've worked my ass off to be the best. And you don't know anything about me or my experience. So why don't you stay in your own lane and watch me destroy you and everybody else." You were practically touching him now, seemingly just seething in your anger.
Bradley's heart was pounding. You were covered in mud and yelling at him. And embarrassingly enough, he was kind of turned on. He didn't even mind you calling him old man. But now he felt a little bad about what he had said.
"Listen, I-"
But he was cut off by you planting your hand on his chest and pushing yourself away as your teammates and his all crossed the finish line in a large group. You raised your middle finger up behind your back and aimed it at him when you walked away.
"Shit," Bradley muttered. He hadn't meant to piss you off even more. Honestly, he liked you. You were smart and quick witted. Cute too.
He was going to have to apologize when he had you alone again. Hopefully letting you call him old man for the rest of the week would help smooth over what he'd said.
"We just barely beat their combined time," Coyote said, panting to catch his breath.
Hangman was walking in circles chugging water while Phoenix patted Bradley on the shoulder. "I'm never letting you use me as a human rope again. That was painful," she said.
"I'm sorry, but at least we won this round," he told her. "We'll get up in the air tomorrow and kick their asses."
As everyone made their way back toward the locker rooms to get cleaned up before dinner, Bradley cut you off in front of the ladies' locker room door.
You planted both hands on your hips and looked up at him. "You lost, sweetheart? Mens' showers are that way." You nodded your head to the side where Coyote was disappearing through the door. You had a streak of dried mud running across your forehead, and your hair was an absolute mess.
"No. Listen, I just wanted to apologize," he said, running his hand through his muddy hair. "I'm sure I came across as a bit of a sore loser when I insinuated that you lack experience in the air. You're right, I don't know anything about it. Sorry."
There was nobody else around as you closed the distance between your bodies and tipped your head up to keep your eyes on his. "Yesterday you called me incompetent. Today you called me inexperienced. What are you planning on calling me tomorrow?" you asked in a controlled voice, but your eyes were angry.
When Bradley didn't respond right away, you let your fingers rest on his abs before flattening your palm there. Slowly you dragged your hand up the front of his mud soaked shirt, teasing the hard planes of his body. Bradley didn't dare move as he watched your eyes which were focused on your own hand. He wanted to kiss you, but chances were you actually hated him and were just trying to get a rise out of him for your own entertainment.
But when your hand traveled over his pecs and up around the scars on his neck, you stroked your thumb softly there. His pulse quickened as his dick throbbed. "Oh, so now you're quiet, old man? Gotta say, I like this version of you much better."
Bradley didn't dare move as you pressed up onto your toes and kissed him hard, pushing your fingers up roughly into his messy hair. He wanted to turn you and push you up against the wall, press his hardening length against you and make you moan.
But as soon as he had his hands on your hips, you pulled out of his grasp and slapped him lightly on the cheek.
"Apology accepted. For now," you said, pointing at him as you turned to walk into the locker room.
Bradley stood there for a moment in shock before he crept quietly into the men's room with a boner.
-----------------------
Thanks for reading this one! It will be four parts total! And thanks for all of your help @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 2
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Text
“Bradshaw’s Girl”
Pairing: Platonic Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader, and Bradley“Rooster”Bradshaw x reader (non descriptive reader, no use of Y/N)
Word Count: 1.6k
TW: Cat-calling, creepy dude, swearing
Summary: You’re dating Bradley, but when he’s not there to protect you, Jake is.
“You know whose girl that is? Bradley Bradshaw’s.”
Authors Note: Just a fun oneshot for everyone. You all know Im a slut for protective men :)))) Hope you enjoy :)
*******************************************************************************************
The large sandy beach was packed with people. Everywhere you looked you saw sweaty bodies in swimsuits. Some people were laying in the sand like you- others were swimming or eating their weight in ice cream from the nearby Snack-Shack.
You made the trek to the beach when Rooster invited you to come watch him play volleyball with his pilot friends. You gladly accepted, looking forward to seeing your sweaty boyfriend shirtless for a few hours.
He looked fucking gorgeous, just as you were expecting. His muscles were glistening with sweat. Your eyes followed every line and dimple on his body until there was nothing else left to inspect. His body was killer, but god damnit, his smile with that heavenly laugh- now that was deadly.
You sighed and laid back on your elbows, planting them in the sand. You were wearing a tiny bikini so that your body was on full display- partly for sun tanning and partly to tease the shit out of Rooster. You were a good 30 feet from the volleyball game – but you could see Bradley sneaking glances at you.
You caught his eye and waved at him, only for him to get hit in the chest with a volleyball seconds later. He grimaced in pain and you busted out laughing immediately.
“Pay attention Bradshaw!” Yelled Coyote, slapping Bradley behind the head.
“Can’t help myself.” He said smugly. He shot you a toothy smile and turned his head back to the game.
You felt your stomach grumble and let out a low rumbling sound. You were fucking starving, and the ice cream everyone was chowing down on looked like the perfect treat.
You stood up and wiped the sand off your butt and legs the best you could. You slipped on jean shorts and glanced back at the volleyball game. Bradley was engrossed in the competition now- and he somehow looked even more sweaty than before.
You trudged to the light blue Snack Shack, determined to find ice-cream. You walked up to the shack and looked up at the weathered menu. The place was crowded, and there were groups of people all around you. You saw groups of girls your age, families with babies and toddlers – and retired couples all around.
Your eyes wandered to the left of you where a group of men around your age were gathered in a circle eating ice-cream. You made eye contact with one of the men, causing you to look away immediately.
You crossed your arms over your chest self-consciously and inched forward in the line. You could feel the group staring at you.
“Hey baby, I saw you lookin at me.” The mans voice was so fucking cocky, it made you want to punch him in the face. You pretended you didn’t hear him and bit the inside of your cheek nervously. You could hear the men laughing at their friend for being ignored.
You sighed and stepped further up in line away from the group. You fucking hated college aged boys. Always hanging out in groups – always trying to get laid. It was disgusting really. You felt relieved when you finally made it to the window to order your ice cream.
You giddily took the large ice-cream cone from the worker. Your mouth was watering before you even took your first lick of it.
You started licking the ice-cream and turned around to go back towards your tanning spot. You hadn’t forgotten about the unwanted attention from the group standing nearby, so you kept your head down as you walked past them.
“Aw come on baby don’t leave in such a rush!” The same man from before called out behind you. The speed you were walking increased, and your heart started to beat faster.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!” He was catching up with you now, you could hear his feet padding in the sand. You came to a complete halt and turned around angrily.
“Fuck off, I’m not interested.” You seethed. Normally you would never confront a man who was harassing you- but you were in a very public place – and you were supremely pissed off.
“I saw you checking me out.” He countered back. You took in his greedy brown eyes and stout build. You shook your head at him in disbelief.
“It’s called taking in my surroundings, idiot.” Your ice cream was melting in your hand now, but you didn’t dare keep licking it since you knew the man would have something disgusting to say about it. He inched towards you, causing you to immediately shuffle backwards.
“You have a dirty mouth, don’t you? Let me take you—” Before he could finish his sentence you felt someone come up behind you. You jumped and looked back to see Jake eyeing the man in front of you. Relief settled over you.
“Shit where did you get that ice cream? It looks delicious.” His voice was friendly, but he quickly glanced down at you with concerned eyes. You didn’t know him well, but you knew that Bradley trusted him with his life. You subconsciously stepped closer to the tall blonde.
“Hey man, we were actually in the middle of something.”
You scoffed at him and shook your head. Men were un-fucking-believable. As much as you wanted to talk back to him, you knew Jake had a better shot of diffusing the situation.
“Oh were you? That’s too bad.” Jake said, his voice now laced with sarcasm. He started to guide you away, his hand lightly touching the top of your shoulder as you both turned.
“Don’t act like a fucking whore if you aren’t willing to give it up.” The man sneered. You ignored his comment and kept walking, but Jake stayed still. Fuck. Before you could stop him, he turned around.
“You look familiar, you in the Navy?” Jake asked, his head tilting slightly. You watched as the strangers face paled at Jakes comment.
“Hmm, I’ll take that as a yes.” Jake stepped closer to the man. You stayed behind him; your body now frozen in fear of Jake setting off this temperamental idiot.
“Well, you know whose girl that is?” Jake pointed back at you. “Bradley Bradshaw’s.”
“I don’t know him.” The stranger said. You noticed his greasy fists were balled at his sides.
“Well, he would be really pissed off if he knew you were bothering his girl.” Jake threatened. “And honestly, you’re really starting to piss me off too.” Jakes usual playful voice was now twisted with anger.
“What are you going to do about it?” the stranger challenged, taking a full step towards the both of you. You swore under your breath. Jake moved completely in front of you, blocking your whole body from the creep.
“Do you really want to find out?”
You peaked your head around Jakes tall frame. The man looked at Jake, and then to you- and finally back to Jake.
“You’re not worth my time anyway.” He sneered. You weren’t sure if he was referencing you or Jake. But it didn’t matter anymore, because he turned to walk away.
“Fuck.” You said, letting out the huge breath you’d been holding in. “Thank you. I tried to tell him to fuck off but obviously that didn’t work.”
“Yeah, he’s a piece of work.” Jake mocked in his usual joking tone. He motioned towards the volleyball court and started walking. “And no problem sunshine, I could tell something was up.”
You gave him a small smile and tried to clean up all the ice-cream that melted over your hands. Fucking asshole had to ruin your ice-cream too.
You twisted your lips with the realization that you had just been harassed at the beach, when all you were trying to do was get ice-cream. You looked down at your swimsuit and couldn’t help but want to cover up.
You were about to part ways with Jake and go to your beach bag when a very sweaty Bradley approached you both.
He was all smiles, but when you and Jake didn’t immediately return the same enthusiasm, he frowned.
“What’s up?” Your boyfriend asked, his eyes slightly narrowed. You sighed in frustration.
“Nothing.” You said, not wanting to ruin a perfectly good day any longer. Now Jake was the one scoffing.
“Try again.” Jake said, looking at you with his arms crossed. You shot him a death glare. Bradley was looking between you both in confusion. He had never seen you and Jake interact this much before, which probably confused him further.
“Some asshole was harassing her.” Jake said in annoyance. You watched as Bradley’s eyes grew wide with anger, and then with concern.
“Did he touch you?” Bradley’s eyes were dark, and his bare chest was turning red with anger. You shook your head immediately.
“No baby. He was just saying gross things.” You mumbled. “Jake stopped him before he could do anything.”
Jake smiled proudly and you rolled your eyes.
“I’ll point him out to you if I see him on base tomorrow.” Jake looked at Bradley with devious eyes.
“Please don’t. He’s not worth that kind of attention.” You said, licking the last bit of your ice-cream cone. “I am pissed about my ice-cream melting though.” You looked at the cone sadly and grimaced at the stickiness on your hands.
Both men seemed to ignore your request and continued on with their plan.
“Well thank- you Hangman.” Bradley said, a small smile on his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Sounds like a date.” Jake slapped Bradley on the shoulder and walked past you both.
You let out a big sigh and leaned your head against Bradley’s tall frame.
“You okay sweetheart?” He asked, wrapping his arm around your bare shoulders. You finally relaxed and let your shoulders slouch.
“I’m okay.” You said back. “Let’s just go home?”
Bradley’s warm eyes looked down at you. They were a mix of concerned and tired. He leaned down to kiss you on top of your head.
“Lets do it baby.”
*********************************************************************
Let me know what you think! All the support helps :) I am taking requests.
#jake seresin#bradley bradshaw#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster x reader#hangman x reader#hangman onshot#rooster oneshot#protective hangman#protective jake seresin#protective rooster#top gun maverick#top gun fan fiction
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