shesbiochem4

[shesbiochem4]

one of jake’s ex gfs noticing how protective he is with you and it causes an argument because he’s never that way with her😭

am i right to assume you were thinking of Flyboy Jake (because this was sent around the time of some protective flyboy Jake content and has languished in my drafts ever since; if it is not i apologise!) also, as I have said before - Flyboy Jake is definitely a bit of an ass, pining for someone while dating another girl. so don’t tell me and don’t read on if you don’t like it!

anyway, college flyboy!

-

“You are so protective of her,” the accusation makes Jake look up at his girlfriend who is seated beside him. He takes in the daggers in her eyes, lips pulled into a thin, grim line, and arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“I am not,” Jake mumbles, his hand reaching out for his pint of beer, taking a swig, his eyes floating across the bar towards you. He sees you laugh, throwing your head back, shoulders shaking with glee as you and a two of his team mates wait around for service at the bar counter.

“Your eyes have followed her since she left the table,” Jake’s girlfriend accuses again, and Jake places the pint back down on the table. He forces himself to tear his gaze away from you, to refocus back in his girlfriend.

“She’s been my best friend forever,” he says simply, the explanation saying it all, while managing to be slightly weak.

“Yeah, friend,”his girlfriend says again, emphasising the word, “try not to forget that?” She all but snaps, and Jake feels his brow begin to furrow. He opens his mouth to shoot out a retort when he hears raised voices from the direction of the bar counter, your direction.

He closes his mouth, head snapping towards you; only to find two of his teammates stacked up in front of you, staring down a drunk looking guy who is sneering at them both.

“What the fuck?” Jake mutters under his breath, as he pushes himself to a stand. A quick assessment of the situation tells him that it was probably a case of unwanted attention.

“Are you really going to her?” His girlfriend says, and Jake turns his head to look at her, the annoyance now written clearly over his features.

“Yes,” he says simply, tone cool and emotionless, eyes darting back to you as he sees you rub the side of your arm, while shrinking back against the bar counter, “you can either wait here, or, if you decide you are still going to have a problem with it, leave.”

Jake’s words are ruthless, but all he can think about in that moment is you. The legs of his chair scrape back against the floor, as he begins his stride over to you.

“Do we have a problem here?” His voice, hard, angry, breaks through, and his teammates shift in unison, maintaining their human barricade between you and the drunk, all while allowing Jake to step in, placing himself closest to you,m.

“He tried to get handsy with her,” one of his teammates supplies, the three men now staring down the drunk who is growing less aggressive and more hesitant as the second past.

“Apologise,” Jake demands, arms crossing over his puffed chest.

The drunk opens his mouth, as if to protest, when the other of Jake’s teammate sighs loudly, before speaking in a bored tone, “if you knew better you would listen to the man.”

“I- I’m sorry,” the words rush out of the drunk’s mouth, his Adams apple bobbing along the column of his throat as he gulps in a display of clear distress.

“Leave,” Jake orders cooly, as he takes a step forward; the drunk doesn’t need to be told twice.

“You ok?” Jake watches him scurry out of sight before he turns to look at you, gaze running down from head to toe, examining you for any signs of hurt.

“I’m okay,” you say, eyes locking onto his. You see the anger walled behind his eyes, so you offer a small smile, reaching out with a hand to gently brush your fingers against an elbow. Jake loosens the cross his arms have across his chest as he feels your touch against his skin.

His teammates grab their drinks, and yours, which have now been slid across the counter by the bartender. It allows Jake the freedom to slide his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as the three men guide you back to your table. It must, you find yourself musing to yourself, be quite the sight.

“Where is-” you begin to ask only for Jake to cut you off with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders that you feel because of your proximity to him.

“She had some friends to meet.”

“Oh,” you say, brow raising slightly in confusion, but let yourself be steered into your chair by Jake, who makes it a point to slide into the chair beside your, his knee bumping into yours, his jean covered leg pressing lightly against your own for the rest of the evening, arm slung casually across the back of your chair, a brand of casual dominance, Jake Seresin’s own brand of protection for you - something he always best achieved by letting the world know just whose girl you were.

#flyboy drabble #flyboy universe #flyboy #flyboy ideas #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #hangman seresin imagine #hangman seresin #hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick #not cm #top gun imagine

[shesbiochem4]

worth it 

a/n: yet again this was supposed to be short but sierra cannot shut up!! <3 thanks anon for this sweet request! i’ll get back to work on my 7 wips now. 🫣 warnings: 18+ for mild coarse language and some shameless thirsting. domestic!hangman is my fave. just super fluffy. word count: 1275 summary: Jake is far more attentive than you previously gave him credit for, but it sparks a big revelation.  pairing: jake seresin x reader

Keep reading

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman x reader #hangman fluff

[shesbiochem4]

So I was rewatching CA:TWS I noticed how Sam tends to be to Steve’s right. That’s even how we’re introduced to him. Cap keeps saying “on your left.” 

Then I noticed something.

THE

PLACE

ON

STEVE’S

LEFT

SEEMS

TO BE

TAKEN.

[shesbiochem4]

Male & Female Version of the Same Character 💪 Marvel Cinematic Universe (2008-)

[shesbiochem4]

Dad Jake had my heart forever ❤️

The Third-Generation Bradshaw - or, The Three Times Bradshaw Became a Problem and the One Time Hangman Learned to Live With It (Dad! Hangman x Reader)

Pairing: Dad! Hangman x Female Reader

Word Count: 4500+

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Teenagers Being Teenagers, Romance, Still The Father-Daughter Relationship I Wish I Had

Author’s Note: A continuation of the Dad/DILF! Hangman series that you guys seem to not be getting enough of! Feel free to keep sending me requests. You can find my Top Gun Maverick masterlist here. Thanks for reading and all the lovely comments/reblogs!

If you haven’t already, I recommend reading at least Letting Go and Reunions prior to this one to understand the father-daughter relationship!

Turns out a near-death experience could work miracles, after all.

After the Maverick mission, Hangman and Rooster had learned to live with each other, understanding each other’s strengths and weaknesses and growing to appreciate their partnership in the skies. Your families had remained close over the years, following each other around the world, Navy tour after tour.

On a good day, if you asked your husband, he might even call Bradley Bradshaw a friend. On a great day, maybe even a great friend. But his son?

Nicholas Bradshaw needed more than a miracle.

Keep reading

#hangman fanfic #hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin #hangman imagine #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin imagine #dad hangman

[shesbiochem4]

Don't we all need our own Jake Seresin?

Conversations in the dark | Jake Seresin x Reader Top Gun: Maverick - Jake Seresin x Reader Genre: uh idk - i think … angst (but not really) / hurt / comfort / fluff. Warnings: mentions of penetrative sex minors DNI; fighting; female reader. Length: Drabble / blurb

Summary: How you live your life with Jake - inspired by the song conversations in the dark.

A/N: As an FYI - this isn’t like anything I usually write or I have written. But this song always gets to me, although it sounds so happy.

Talk / Let's have conversations in the dark / World is sleeping, I'm awake with you / Watch / Movies that we've both already seen / I ain't even looking at the screen, it's true / I got my eyes on you

Jake enjoys the quiet of the night when he is with you. His life is normally hectic, roaring planes, near shaves with death, running from continent to continent, so the moments he gets to just be with you, are his favourites.

Whether it is running his hands through your hair, your head in his lap, the both of you watching a movie you have seen at least twenty times before; laying next to each other in bed, talking about everything and nothing; or you on his lap naked, taking in every inch of him, his fingers splayed across the bare skin of your hips, tongue swirling around the nipple of your bare breast - Jake loves it all.

So much of his life is spent is constant motion, perpetual uncertainty. Jake has to be “Hangman” outside, in front of the big, bad world - but with you, he gets to be just Jake.

And you say that you're not worth it / You get hung up on your flaws / Well, in my eyes you are perfect / As you are

Jake desires constant perfection in everything he does - the way he flies, the way he looks, the way the lines in his uniform crease. Anything short of those standards, is, to Jake - a flaw, his failure that eats him up alive.

He doesn’t show it to the world, to you, but you see it anyway from the way his eyes flash, his lips press together; from the way Jake returns home from the gym, his knuckles raw, and bloody, sweat plastering his hair to the sides of his face and nape of his neck.

You always make it a point to slide your hands on either side of his face, telling him “you’re enough”, while kissing him, lips, jaw, neck, face. You always taste the salt from his sweat, but you continue until you feel him relent, until you feel him let the tension go.

“You are enough Jake.”

I will never try to change you, change you / I will always want the same you, same you / Swear on everything I pray to / That I won't break your heart / I'll be there when you get lonely, lonely / Keep the secrets that you told me, told me / And your love is all you owe me / And I won't break your heart

Jake fights like he flies - he is brash, ruthless, and impactful. It is always loud, angry, hurtful and always ends with you both shouting at the top of your lungs, and you in tears. Jake is never violent towards you - but fighting with Jake hurts the both of you in a different way, it hurts the both of you inside.

After big fights, you end up sleeping apart, him on the couch and you in the bedroom. But Jake always comes back to you first, because while he won’t admit - it is lonely, with you. Your fights end with multiple whispered chants of “I’m sorry”, with urgent, desperate, needy, kisses, and Jake thrusting into like both your lives depended on it, a litany of “I love you” / “I fucking love you baby”, falling from his lips.

When you fight, you fight like hell with Jake, but you know he’ll never break your heart.

On Sunday mornings we sleep-in 'til noon / Well, I can sleep forever next to you / And we / We got places we both gotta be / But there ain't nothing I would rather do / Then blow off all my plans for you

On the Sundays he is home, you both always make numerous plans - whether to try something new, or go some place further; but you always end up making only half, or none of the plans - you both choosing instead to relish in the comfort of your shared bed, limbs, lips, hands, sheets, tangled up around each other.

Your Sundays pass in the same way as the earth spins on its axis, but there is no other way either of you would have it.

When no one seems to notice / And your days, they seem so hard / My darling, you should know this / My love is everywhere you are

You wear his love close to his heart, in the form of a necklace you never take off, and he wears yours on his wrist, a watch, the bracelet marked from years of use.

Jake loves you everywhere - feet on the ground or 10,000 feet above ground.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fic #hangman fanfiction #hangman fic #hangman x reader #hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader

[shesbiochem4]

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #Instagram

[shesbiochem4]

Worlds Collide CHAPTER FIVE // Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Song: “a soft place to land” by jessie mueller, keala settle, & kimiko glenn -> (Playlist) ♪

TW: near-fatal allergic reaction, childrens hospitals (minus the aesthetic), disassociation, panic attack

JAKE “HANGMAN” SERESIN MASTERLIST // BRADLEY “ROOSTER” BRADSHAW MASTERLIST // WORLDS COLLIDE MASTERLIST

↢ previous chapter

Days pass, and you settle into a routine, cooking, cleaning, writing, groecery shopping, and raising your children while Jake is at work. You take a few trips to the park, some to the ocean, using the beach behind the Hard Deck as Penny suggested. On occasion, you will even go over to her house, Amelia excitedly babysitting Jack and Carrie while you and Penny talk. She’s become somewhat of a mentor to you, especially with tips for child rearing; after all, she had a teenager, and she filled in after Carole died for you.

Another person you make sure to visit is your Aunt, Sarah Kazansky. Your Uncle Ice is always happy to have you, chatting using a computer, and Sarah is equally as excited for your presence. She fills the doting grandmother role instantly for Jack and Caroline, Ice acting much the same. Take today, for instance; you had had a luncheon with her and a few of the other officers’ wives and after had headed back to the Kazansky residence with your aunt. Jack is currently having “man” time with Ice, the two playing with model jets, while you and Sarah talk. You feed Caroline at some point, about two hours after eating, but it’s two hours too late. In just a few minutes, hives are breaking out across her now-rashy skin, her face and lips swelling up and her breath coming out in a troubled wheeze.

You’re panicking.

Thankfully, Sarah has the state of mind to call 911 for you, the ambulance arriving quickly. Since it’s only one other person allowed, you quickly get in, your aunt assuring you that she’ll take care of Jack. That worry relieved, your entire focus is devoted to your dying daughter, eyes and mind tunneling down to one.

As she’s rushed to the ER, you’re forced into a waiting room, trying to control your breathing and not spiral. It’s during this period that you have a flash of clarity, dialing your husband.

He doesn’t pick up.

You call again, and again, and again, nerves only worsening with each failed attempt. Horror stories fill your mind of people dying during training, especially the one of Mav and Goose. God, please no. You can’t lose both your husband and your daughter today—you can’t. Out of your mind with worry, you know better than to call Mav, so you decide on going higher up;

You call Vice Admiral Simpson directly.

Thankfully, he’s understanding, reassuring you that your husband is fine and was just in the air, that he had landed seconds ago. A family man himself, he promises to let Jake know about his daughter’s condition, and to give him the rest of the day off to go to the hospital, as well as informing Pete of the developments, as you try not to blubber on the other end of the line.

For more than a second, you entertain the thought that either Ice had already told him to do so, or that Sarah had told Mrs. Simpson about the situation, who had quickly briefed her husband. Mrs. Simpson was a kindly, fiery woman, who you had grown close to, and you have no doubt she would threaten him sleeping on the couch if it were her who informed him.

Thanking Cyclone, you hang up, tapping your leg against the floor and fidgeting endlessly as you wait for an update on Caroline’s condition, entirely alone.

JAKE’S POV

It’s been a few weeks since they started training, and it’s going… well, not well, but at least better. He thinks. No one has passed the course, but they’re starting to grow into some semblance of a team, despite the animosity between himself and Rooster. That’s been toned down, too, save snips at each other in passing and when both in the air. Each time, though, they’re forced to explain why they died, and Maverick makes sure to remind them that they won’t be apologizing to the teammate, they’ll apologize to wives and children, parents and siblings.

Each time, Jake’s mind drifts to his wife and his children, his parents and his siblings, his nephews and his nieces, and his resolve grows steelier. I’m not going to die on this mission.

He’s heading back to the from another failed mission, this time with Fritz and Halo as his wingmen. He pats Fritz’s drooping shoulder as they walk to the rec room, the fellow pilot moving to his buddies at the foosball table as his WSO takes a seat with Phoenix beside the radio. For his part, Jake collapses on the couch beside Coyote, noting that the next flight—Omaha, Payback, and Fanboy—had already made their way to pre-flight.

“Get your sweaty ass away from me,” Javy deadpans. Jake groans, sore from the G’s, and flips off his friend without care.

“You’re no Febreeze yourself, buddy.”

Javy snorts and shakes his head in amusement, going to respond, when the door opens and Cyclone walks through, everyone on their feet and at attention in the blink of an eye, no matter how sore they feel.

“At ease,” Cyclone calls, waving them off. “Go back to whatever you were doing. Hesitantly, confusedly, there’s a tentative return to do so, voices much lower now regardless. “Seresin.”

Jake’s head snaps back to the Admiral, the room so quiet you could hear a pin drop as everyone curiously waits to see what’s about to happen. Phoenix smirks, assuming he’s in trouble, while Jake racks his brain to think of why. “Sir?”

“Your wife called, she’s been trying to reach you.” Shit. You would know better than to call a Rear Admiral—what were you thinking? He forgets the presence of the other aviators, who are all—save Javy—looking at him like he’s grown another head. Hangman has a wife? “Your kid is in the ER. You’ve got the rest of the day off, go see them. Be back here on time tomorrow, though.”

The stares grow louder. Hangman has a wife and a kid?

“Yes, sir.” The response is rote as he stands there, unable to comprehend. Cyclone makes his exit as Jake tries to compute, frozen, glitching in and out of thought processes. He doesn’t realize he isn’t breathing until Javy is in his face, trying to get his attention. He blinks owlishly at his friend, slowly beginning to feel the cold in his hand. He glances down and sees ice melting, and when did I sit down?

“That’s it,” Coyote coaches, taking exaggerated breaths, “Breathe. I’m calling the missus, okay?”

All Jake can do is nod, managing to croak out, “Which… one?”

Javy gives him a sympathetic glance. “I’ll figure it out.” Turning to someone else, he says, “Take care of him for a sec while I call his wife.”

As his best friend walks away, Jake tries to keep himself in check. After all, you’re doing all of this alone. Shit. Does Mav know? He wonders.

“Hey, hey.” Bob’s voice is soft and calming as he presses the ice into Jake’s hand, causing the latter to realize that that’s who Javy was speaking to. It takes a second for his eyes to focus on the glasses-adorned aviator, but he does. “You want to tell me about your kids?”

Jake can’t help but smile, eyes growing distant. “Well, there’s John, we call him Jack, he’s three; Carrie, sorry, Caroline, is a little over one; and my wife is pregnant, so we’ll have another one soon as well.”

Bob’s lips quirk in amusement. “Literally,” he quips, using Javy’s response to him that first night at the Hard Deck. At Jake’s look, he elaborates. “Two point five kids exactly, you’re living the American Dream, man.”

Jake chuckles. “I guess I am.”

“I’m sorry,” a voice cuts in—Yale’s, Jake processes. “Did you name your kids after the Kennedys?”

The Georgian blinks for a moment before grinning. “I guess I did. It wasn’t planned, Jack is named for my grandfather and Caroline is named for her grandmother.”

“How far along is your wife?” Bob asks, voice gentle as he works to keep from upsetting Jake.

“Seven months. It’s a boy, we decided to name him Charlie after my, uh, my brother.” Jake blinks away the image that brings, the picture in the wreath and the coffin being lowered, the sudden fear that one of his kids might end up like his brother; that he, too, will take after his parents and have the struggle of losing a child.

“Hey, hey, woah,” Bob soothes as it becomes clear that his breathing picked up. “Why don’t you tell me about your wife?”

“She’s perfect. Literally superwoman. I don’t know how she does it all. But seriously, she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. I’ve told her before that she should model, but she disagrees.” He chuckles. “She’s a writer, working on a screenplay right now. Again, I don’t know how she manages, she’s… she’s incredible. She’s growing a human being, raising two more, and managed to move into the base housing while I was here flying, all on her own. She’s amazing.”

“Do you have any pictures?” Phoenix asks, the first time she’s spoken since Cyclone’s appearance.

“So many,” Javy answers for him. He sends a grateful look to Bob as he crouches down beside the two. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” the WSO responds easily, one of the few Jake gets along well with.

Javy nods, turning back to his best friend. “Carrie had an allergic reaction and had fo be rushed to the ER. She’s stable now, Y/n said, but she’s not allowed to go back and see her yet.”

“She’s okay? What about Jack?”

“He’s fine, he’s with Sarah. Apparently they were at a luncheon for officers wives and then went over to Sarah’s house after, she stayed to take care of Jack while the missus went in the ambulance with Carrie. I’m going by to grab him after I get done, but you should probably head over now.”

“Right.” Jake nods, feeling horrible that he wasn’t there for you when you needed him, that even when he got the news he just shut down instead of racing out the door. He accepts his friends hand helping him up. “God, I’m a terrible father.”

“No, you’re not,” Coyote refutes easily.

“I froze up, Jav. We’re literally trained to deal with being shot at, I should be able to process and move.”

“It’s different,” Harvard pipes up. “You being in trouble versus your kid? Very different.”

Jake nods his thanks to the man as he grabs his phone and keys, not even bothering to change out of the flight suit tied around his waist. He gives a two-fingered salute to the rest of his squadron, no one commenting on how shaky his hand is nor how obviously fake the cocky smirk is, before making his way to his car to head to the hospital.

YOUR POV

It’s not long after Javy calls you that Jake gets there; you’re a bit worried that he set a new personal record for how high over the speed limit he’s gone with how fast he arrived. He’s frazzled beneath the well-maintained façade, glancing around the waiting room for you in what he tries to not let be a wild manner. When he spots you, he immediately begins moving again, making a beeline for you.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He pulls you in for a tight embrace, burying his face in your neck and inhaling the scent of your body soap as you run your fingers through his hair in a comforting manner. Your other hand rubs up and down his back as you hold back tears, forcing yourself to be strong for your husband.

When he’s sufficiently calm, he pulls back, taking a deep breath and looking you over. “You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah.” You blink quickly, forcing a smile on your face, an amazing actress if you do say so yourself. “I’m fine.”

He gives you a look, not buying your bull. “Yeah, right.” He pulls you back into an embrace, this time with your head flush with his chest. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

“You got here when you could, and that’s enough,” you answer.

“No, it’s not,” he whispers, more to himself than you. Somehow, you struck a nerve, not meaning to. Either way, he shakes it off, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m here now, okay?”

“More than,” you say in a quiet tone, allowing yourself to melt against him and let the worries you had held on to, even after hearing your daughter was okay, fade away, even if some hang on and you know won’t go away until you see her with your own eyes. Even then, you know you’ll carry this with you for the rest of your days, almost seeing your daughter die right in front of you.

Eventually, you two go back to the seats you’ve snagged, sitting and waiting together for the doctor to come call your names. When she does, it’s a struggle on both your ends to walk at a normal speed, hands clasped tightly between you as you follow the doctor to the room that Caroline is in.

When you go in, it’s like an exhale. The swelling is mostly gone down, she’s breathing normally—she looks far better than she did earlier. Jake looks a little green for his part, and you remember that he didn’t see her before, so this is her looking definitively worse to him.

“It’s good, Jake,” you whisper. “She looks much better.”

He shakes his head with a self-deprecating laugh. “I still should’ve been there. And honestly, I don’t want to think about how bad she must’ve been if this is supposed to be good.”

Your hushed conversation is interrupted by the doctor, who gives you both a sympathetic smile before explaining to you how your daughter is doing, what can be expected, how to care for her following this, etcetera. You’re given an estimated time you can take her home—tomorrow; they’re keeping her overnight for observation—and a list of allergens to look out for, as they went ahead and tested her extensively. In addition, you’re both taught how to use an epipen, and told where to get one. When you look it up, you’re suddenly very glad for USAA.

Your husband being in the military definitely has its perks.

At some point, Javy stops by, bringing Jack; Maverick stops in as well to check on you two and Caroline. Sarah was planning on it, but you updated her and she decided to wait until the morning, to help you get Carrie home while the others are back at training. Too soon, though, Javy takes Jack back to your house, promising to stay the night there and watch his godson, and Pete has to leave as well. Jake, despite your pleading for him to go home and get a good night’s rest, refuses steadily, prompting you to threaten for him to either take the cot or you will keep yourself up all night. Reluctantly, he complies, sleeping on the hospital cot and failing at persuading you to join him.

And so, holding your daughter’s hand and curled up in a plastic chair with a blanket, your husband on the floor beside you, you fall into a restless sleep, praying for morning to come and prove this whole thing to be a nightmare.

next chapter ↣

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[shesbiochem4]

It Takes a Village (Dad! Hangman x Reader)

Pairing: Dad! Hangman x Female Reader

Word Count: 3200+

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Teenagers Being Teenagers, Still The Father-Daughter Relationship I Wish I Had

Author’s Note: The Dad/DILF! Hangman series seems to be doing pretty well, so as long as I continue receiving requests I guess I’ll keep writing them! You can find the masterlist here. Thanks for reading and all the lovely comments/reblogs!

A series of vignettes involving Hangman, your daughter, and the Dagger Squad.

Since the day she was born, your daughter had the entire Dagger Squad wrapped around her pinky finger, adored and spoiled by every single aviator. Despite the fact that many of them had kids of their own, she was the only girl - a precocious, loud, opinionated little girl - who quickly made herself the center of everyone’s attention. 

And knowing that she was the apple of Jake’s eye, the Dagger Squad did their best to make sure they never did anything to upset her overprotective father.

Well, for the most part.

Keep reading

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[shesbiochem4]

A bigger shower? | A Flyboy Blurb

Jake Seresin x You

Context: Flyboy (can be read as a standalone)

A/N: I imagine the real estate agent here as Michael from Uncoupled.

-

“What is the piping situation behind there?” Jake points to the end of one of the shower walls, which has the shower head attached to it.

You don’t think much of his question, eyes scanning the spacious bathroom, your hand loosely clasped in Jake’s.

“Well uh,” the real estate agent rifles through his notes, scanning the pages of the binder she has in her hands for a moment before she responds, “you should be able to re-jig the piping behind that wall if you wanted to. Are you thinking of knocking the wall down?”

Jake hums his confirmation as he sticks his head past the open glass door of the shower to squint at the shower head.

“It isn’t the most spacious shower stall we’ve seen today, but it’s sizeable.” The agent offers his view as Jake ducks his head back out. “Could I ask why you are thinking of knocking it out?”

You don’t make much of his question, but the squeeze of Jake’s hand which you feel in yours causes you to turn to stare at him, a slight feeling of foreboding gathering in your mind.

“Well,” he starts, and the tone of his voice coupled with the glint in his eyes tells you all you need to know. You open your mouth, attempting to call out his name in a warning, but Jake beats you to the punch, “my wife and I like our showers a little bigger. She has a penchant for surprising me in the shower in the mornings.”

He winks at you, and it causes blood to rush to your face, your cheeks heating as you groan Jake’s name out loud, barely attempting to disguise your horror, the innuendo in his words clear.

It only causes the agent to laugh out loud, not bothering to contain his amusement as Jake tugs you towards him to brush a kiss against your temple while you cover your face with a hand.

“My husband does that too,” the agent says, his voice tinged with laughter, unable to help himself, in what you are sure is not a characteristic reveal for a showing. It only makes Jake laugh louder before he speaks again.

“Shower sex, the best start to anyone’s morning.”

#flyboy #jake seresin #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine #hangman x reader #top gun imagine

[shesbiochem4]

Reunions (Dad! Hangman x Female Reader - Sequel to Letting Go)

Pairing: Dad! Hangman x Female Reader 

Word Count: 2400+

Warnings: Fluff, Still The Father-Daughter Relationship I Wish I Had

Author’s Note: A second part to this one-shot was highly requested, and thou shalt receive! Still falls in the same universe. Thank you so much for all of the comments and reblogs on everything Hangman (especially Dad/DILF!Hangman). I am still accepting requests while also working on my longer fic so let me know if there’s anything specific you want!

When Jake left, you’d hoped this deployment - somehow unlike all of the others before - would avoid an extension.

As usual, the Navy never failed to disappoint. 

Keep reading

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman fanfic #hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #jake seresin x reader

[shesbiochem4]

Reunions (Dad! Hangman x Female Reader - Sequel to Letting Go)

Pairing: Dad! Hangman x Female Reader 

Word Count: 2400+

Warnings: Fluff, Still The Father-Daughter Relationship I Wish I Had

Author’s Note: A second part to this one-shot was highly requested, and thou shalt receive! Still falls in the same universe. Thank you so much for all of the comments and reblogs on everything Hangman (especially Dad/DILF!Hangman). I am still accepting requests while also working on my longer fic so let me know if there’s anything specific you want!

When Jake left, you’d hoped this deployment - somehow unlike all of the others before - would avoid an extension.

As usual, the Navy never failed to disappoint. 

Keep reading

#jake seresin x reader #hangman imagine #hangman fic #hangman x reader #hangman seresin x reader #top gun hangman #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun fanfic #top gun imagine

[shesbiochem4]

Kiss me baby

Mmmmh, it feels good

Hold me baby

Well I'm off to love you like a lover should

Oh you’re fine, so kind

Got to tell this world that you're mine, mine, mine, mine

#Top Gun Maverick #Bradley Bradshaw #Miles Teller

[shesbiochem4]

OH GOD HE LOOKS SO GOOD

#bradley bradshaw #miles teller #top gun maverick

[shesbiochem4]

The extended version of "Great Balls of Fire"

I love his dance at the end and they should have left it in! 😍

#bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick

[shesbiochem4]

Top Gun: Maverick Masterlist

Old Friends

Poor Timing

Ready When You Are

Fight Through the Pain (Part 1, Part 2)

I'll Come Back

Livewire (Part 1)

Hold My Hand

Time (Part 1)

Come Home

..... More Coming Soon!

At Long Last

Worth the Wait (Part 1)

Adrenaline

Too Much

..... More Coming Soon!

Waiting for Someone

A Mistake

I Thought I Lost You

..... More Coming Soon!

GIFs:

Great Balls of Fire (Rooster Dancing) Great Balls of Fire (Bob)

#top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #hangman x reader x rooster #robert bob floyd x reader

[shesbiochem4]

Tastes Like the 4th of July (Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Reader Smut)

“You used to call me Rooster,” He reminded you, as if you had forgotten, “Remember why?”

“Because you’re a massive dick.” You quipped, licking your hand and dabbing it with salt.

Rooster chuckled, his eyes on you as his tongue flicked out against the back of his hand. “Close.”

Tastes like the 4th of July / Malt Liquor on Your Breath, My, My / I Love You But I Don't Know Why

Warnings: Pet names, smut, oral (f receiving), jerkin', ridin', an all around good time.

A/N: Just take me to horny jail. I deserve it. Lock me up. Named after a Lana song because, of course. I wrote it lmao.

The sun was high in the sky and it was beating down on the skin not covered by your bikini. You were lounging in a beach chair, sunglasses over your eyes and earbuds in your ears with a romance novel in your lap. 

You were visiting your mom for the summer, needing a break from the east coast after a particularly harsh break up with your fiancé. Or ex fiancé now. 

That’s what you got for dating a man like your late father, the only difference was your ex was a marine; your father had been in the navy. A navy admiral to be exact. 

You didn’t blame your emotionally detached father for your fiancé’s misgivings, no that was solely on him, and maybe you for ignoring them for so long. 

You were a grown woman running away from her problems, yeah, but at least you had somewhere to run to, being that he owned the apartment you shared with him. Coming home with the locks changed was not fun. Neither was finding your things out on the doorstep. 

So there you were, licking your wounds on the beach just a few blocks from your parent’s house. 

It was filled with navy families, military brats and the like, just like the good old days when you used to visit in the summers after spending the school year at William and Mary University in Williamsburg. The same school where you met your ex. 

Your eyes surveyed the beach from behind your shades, seeing if you recognized any of the faces. Some of the people you went to high school with had babies of their own now shockingly. It made you feel bad about your recent life upheaval. 

That is, until you saw the hunk of men playing touch football just in your sight. 

You licked your lips and stared unabashedly, rubbing your thighs together discreetly. You never wanted to be a bead of sweat so badly. 

The ball came flying in your direction and you ducked your head down, suddenly very interested in the Fabio-like main character swooping the woman off her feet as one of the players ran in front of you to retrieve the football. The person lingered there, casting a shadow over your book. 

You didn’t look up, opting to lick your finger and turn the page. The guy chuckled lowly and backed away from you, going back to his friends. 

You peeked up from your book again, just in time to see him stealing a glance at you as well. 

“C’mon, Rooster!” One of his friends called, “Stop staring and play.”

Rooster. 

It couldn’t be. 

You squinted your eyes, trying to see through the sunbeams. You couldn’t make out the guy's face but how many other pilots used that name? 

It had to be Bradley. 

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw was the love of your early twenties. Every summer, no matter what, you would find each other. Every summer, through thick and thin, you’d fuck like rabbits then go your separate ways come fall. Until one summer, when he didn’t come back. You were 23 and heart broken. That was sum eight years ago, before you met Jeff. 

You never got over it, even keeping the dog tag he gave you in the jewelry box on your childhood dresser. 

You thought you’d never see him again. What was he doing back here?

You closed your book and got up from your chair, stuffing your things in your beach bag. You folded up your chair and started to make your way off the beach, having had enough ogling for the day. 

You got to your ‘96 white jeep cherokee and unlocked it, putting your things in the passenger seat and jumping in. You slammed your door shut and turned your car on, the rumble of the engine vibrating through your body. 

It was your first car and it took you from here to Virginia and back many times, but it was old; it seemed to sputter and cough every time you cranked it up. 

Though this time, something was wrong. 

You got out of your car and popped the hood, coughing as smoke greeted you. 

You waved a hand in front of your face, not having a single idea at what you were looking at. 

Footsteps sounded behind you and the group of tag football players were goofing around with each other. You ignored them and pulled out your phone, ready to call triple A. 

“Excuse me ma’am,” A voice you knew all too well called, the sound of rocks crushing beneath sandals coming towards you, “Do you need help?”

“I’m calling triple A.” You informed him, not turning around. His footsteps stopped behind you and you smelt his sweat. 

The man hummed, seemingly looking over your engine. “You got a wrench?” He questioned and you cursed him in your head. 

You finally turned towards him, raising an eyebrow from behind your dark shades. Your breath hitched as you came face to bare chest with Bradley Bradshaw. You craned your neck to look up at his face, the sun kissing every inch of his skin. He was covered in sweat and sand, his light brown mustache right above his cupid’s bow. 

He had grown up too.  

You cleared your throat, shaking your head,  “You don’t have to-!”

“I’m always up for helping a damsel in distress.” Rooster replied with a smirk tilted on his lips. His eyes were covered by dark aviators, ones that he told you belonged to his father, but you doubt he remembered that. You doubt he remembered you. 

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “Do I look like a distressed damsel?” You retorted. 

Rooster lowered his shades, his hazel eyes drinking your body in, staring from the pink polish on your bare toes, up your legs, to the curve of your hips and the cinch in your waist. He paused at the heaviness of your tits, dipping into your cleavage before finally landing back on your face. He smiled cockily, “Sure do, darlin’.” He muttered before winking, “A pretty one at that.” He pushed his aviators back up and you scoffed. 

“There’s a wrench in the trunk.” You told him, rolling your eyes. “I’ll get it.” You padded away from him, the rocks digging into your soles. You opened your trunk and grabbed a wrench from the emergency kit your father had gifted you on your 16th birthday along with the car. 

You walked back to the front, handing Rooster the wrench and watching as he leaned over your engine. 

Your eyes roamed over his body like he did yours before. His skin was shiny with sweat, save for the parts of him that had damp sand on it. He was wearing jean shorts and flip flops. His brunette hair looked to be lightened by the sun and you wondered if his tan reached every part of his body. 

“Beautiful ride you got here.” Rooster complimented, the muscles in his back flexing as he tightened something in your car. 

“Thanks.” You murmured, blowing a loose strand of hair out of your face. 

It only took another moment before he was shutting the hood and handing you the wrench back. “Nothing to worry about, the bolt on your coolant was loose.”

“I have no idea what that means,” You admitted, making him chuckle, “But thanks.”

Rooster smirked down at you, looking at you over his aviators again. “So,” He started, leaning against the grill of your jeep, “I didn’t get an invite to the wedding.” You blinked in confusion and his smirk grew. “C’mon, you don’t think I forgot about my sunshine, did ya?”

Sunshine. His sunshine. 

“I haven’t heard that name in years.” You said, shaking your head. 

“I take it your fiancé calls you something else?” Rooster inquired slyly, beating his hands against your truck. 

You shook your head again, smiling at his insinuation. “He doesn’t call me anything.” You informed him, rocking on your feet, “We broke up.”

Rooster’s eyes lit up and he pushed his aviators over them quickly, trying to hide his smirk but failing. “Sorry.” He deadpanned, making you laugh. 

“I’m sure you’re heartbroken.” You teased, now making him laugh. 

“Oh crushed.” He retorted, putting a hand over his heart, “Really.”

“Who told you about that anyway?” You questioned, trying to ignore how easily conversation flowed with him. Like he never left. 

“Penny.” Rooster answered shortly with a shrug, “Y’know she still holds a torch for us.”

You answered with your own shrug, “Well Auntie Penny wants to live vicariously through me, so I see why she pushed us together back then.”

“And now.” He added with a grin. 

You smiled back and shook your head, moving towards your door. “I should go.”

“Wait.” Rooster stopped you with a hand on your upper arm. You looked at it, your lips parting at the calloused grip. “We should catch up.”

“Should we?” You retorted, raising a brow. 

Rooster nodded, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Meet me at the Hard Deck at 8?”

You bit your lip, weighing your options in your head. “I don’t know…”

“Please, sunshine?” Rooster begged, his thumb caressing the skin of your arm, “For old time’s sake?”

Old time’s sake. The taste of malt liquor on his breath and the pressure of his fingers on your thigh. The sound of him panting as he fucked you in the bathroom hallway. 

“Fine.” You sighed, removing your arm from his grip, “But don’t be late, Bradley. I mean it.”

“Bradley?” Rooster echoed, a hand over his heart, “I’m Bradley to you now? That’s brutal.”

You snorted and got in your car, rolling your eyes as he smiled at you through the window. 

“Eight o'clock.” He mouthed, softly hitting your door with his fist. 

You smiled back at him and cranked up your car, pulling out of the parking lot. 

You were already regretting this. 

It was 7:30 PM and you were already ready. You had half a mind to make him wait for you like he did all those years ago but that wasn’t you. 

You had put on a spaghetti strapped red sundress that stopped at your midthigh and strappy wedges that wrapped around your foot, showing off your pedicure. Your hair was up and away, twisted in a bun on top of your head. 

You padded over to your jewelry box, opening the lid and making the soft twinkle of the music box play. You fished out Rooster’s old dog tag, a smile coming to your lips. 

Jesus, were you really doing this?

You put the dog tag back and got little hoops to put in your ears. You at least waited ten more minutes before padding down the steps, seeing your Mom seated at the kitchen island. 

Her brows raised at your outfit. She whistled low, well tried to. “Where you off to hot stuff?”

Your face flushed, “Bradley Bradshaw invited me to the Hard Deck.”

Your mom smirked, immediately taking out her phone and tapping on the screen. “I’m telling Penny.”

You groaned at the mention of your play-Aunt. She and your mom had been best friends since high school and practically sisters since before you were a thought in your mother’s mind. “Mom,” You whined childishly, “It’s just to catch up, seriously.”

“Honey, who do you think you’re talking to?” Your mom deadpanned, “Who was there with ice cream and tissues when he didn’t come round all those summers?” You had nothing to say to that, but you still groaned at her insinuating smile. “Penny told me he was asking about you earlier this summer.”

Your eyes widened, “And you didn’t tell me, why?!”

Your mom shrugged, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe I told Penny to tell him you were at the beach.”

“Honestly, mother.” You huffed, crossing your arms, “You and Penny are sick. Maybe I’m still in mourning over Jeff, did you ever think about that?”

Your mom scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Fuck him. I always liked that Bradley Bradshaw.”

You shook your head and checked your phone, seeing it was nearly eight. “I have to go.” You told her before narrowing your eyes, “No more plotting with Penny, okay?”

“No promises.”

You snorted and slipped your wallet in your backpocket. You grabbed your keys from the hook and walked out your door, getting in your jeep. 

You check your reflection in the mirror, hoping that the sun from earlier had blessed you with a glow. Satisfied, you cranked your jeep up, pulling out from your driveway and heading towards Penny’s. 

You were nervous, beyond nervous, to see Rooster again. Sure you had managed a ten minute conversation with him, but that was easy. 

The hard part was keeping your hands off him after a beer. Or five. 

You pulled into the rocky parking lot again, your heart nearly beating out of your chest. You puffed out a breath, trying to psych yourself up. 

You were sexy. You were cool. You were a sexy, cool, grown ass woman. 

But Bradley Bradshaw was a sexy, cool, fighter pilot with a rideable face and biceps the size of your head.

“Just go.” You muttered to yourself, lining your lips with cherry chapstick. You hopped out of your jeep, shutting the door behind you. You locked your doors and pocketed your keys, deciding that it was now or never.

You walked through the doors of the Hard Deck for the first time in ages, immediately spotting your aunt behind the bar. You made your way through the crowd of servicemen and women, plopping down on a barstool. 

“Barmaid!” You called out facetiously, smiling when Penny whirled around ready to yell at you. Her lips spread in a smirk and she shook her head, placing a clean glass in front of you and filling it with ice and whiskey.

“Hello my lovely niece.” The beautiful barkeep greeted, her blue eyes twinkling. “Ready for your date?”

“It’s not a date.” You quickly replied, taking a hearty gulp of your drink. “I also don’t appreciate how you and my mother have plotted this whole thing.”

“Oh come on, it’s like Shakespeare.” Penny teased with a shrug of her shoulders, “You know you like it just a little bit.”

“I’m in mourning!” You insisted, holding up your left hand, “Does this bare finger mean nothing to you?”

Penny leaned over to you, “The only way to get over a man is to get under another one.” She said with a wink, before moving away from you to deal with her other customers.

You sighed and shot the rest of your whiskey back, wincing at the burn of it in your chest. As always, Auntie Penny was right. She had been in your situation thirty odd years ago with Rooster’s uncle Maverick. She never quite got over him, just like you had never quite gotten over Rooster. Heartbreak seemed to run in the family.

You pulled your phone out of your backpocket, checking the time. It was 8:04. He was late. You raised a finger for another whiskey and Penny refilled your glass, her eyes glancing behind you as she placed it on the bar. 

“Look alive.” She mouthed with a wink, nonchalantly sauntering away from you. 

You didn’t turn around, instead sipping on your whiskey and focusing on the song playing on the jukebox.

“You in that dress, my thoughts, I confess. Verge on dirty, ah, come on Eileen!”

“Sunshine.” Rooster’s voice greeted you from behind. He wedged his way between your barstool and a stranger’s, his lips tilted in a smirk. 

“You’re late.” You retorted, sparing him a glance from the side of your eye. He looked good. Hell, great even. He wore a white beater and a printed Hawaiian shirt, opened to reveal the tan on his chest. He had his aviators on, because of course he did. He smelt like sweat and saltwater, like an ocean breeze.

“Only by…” He trailed, looking at the watch on his wrist, “Eight minutes.”

“I said not to be late, Bradley.” You deadpanned, finally turning to him on your barstool. He glanced at you over his shades before waving Penny over. 

“Put everything she’s drinkin’ on my tab, Pen. Also, can we get two tequila shots and some limes?”  

“You got it, Lieutenant.” Penny winked, not even sparing you a glance.

“You still trying to push this ‘Bradley’ thing, huh?” Rooster questioned you as two shots were placed in front of the two of you, along with salt and limes.

You raised a brow, “Isn’t that your name?”

The sunkissed man smirked, nodding as he finished off your glass of whiskey. “You used to call me Rooster,” He reminded you, as if you had forgotten, “Remember why?”

“Because you’re a massive dick.” You quipped, licking your hand and dabbing it with salt. 

Rooster chuckled, his eyes on you as his tongue flicked out against the back of his hand. “Close.” He teased, sprinkling salt on his hand as well. He lifted his shot, “Lick, sip, suck.”

You followed his action, clinking your glass with his, echoing, “Lick, sip, suck.” You both licked the salt from your hands, taping the shot glass on the bar before throwing the tequila back. You grabbed a lime and put it in your mouth, biting through the burn of the liquor.

You watched with wary eyes as he invaded your personal space, his mouth at your ear, “It’s ‘cuz of my big cock.” He muttered, laughing as you pushed him away.

“Fuck off, Rooster.” You broke, laughing along with him. His lips spread in a triumphant smile and you shook your head, already feeling a little buzzed.

“There she is!” He cheered from beside you and you swore you could feel the heat radiating off of his skin. Two more shots were put in front of you, along with some new limes, courtesy of your scheming aunt. You both licked your hands, dabbing salt on them once more.

“Lick, sip, suck.” He repeated, raising his shot glass to you. You returned his smile and did the same, echoing his words as you both tapped your glasses on the bar. 

It continued like this for two more shots until you both were nursing bottles of beer. The person next to you had moved and Rooster took their seat, his body still turned towards you.

“So,” Rooster started, taking a long swig of his beer, “What happened with what’s his name?”

“I’m surprised Penny didn’t tell you.” You retorted, resting your elbow on the bar with your head on your fist, “He just wasn’t the guy, I guess. Too much like my dad. But it doesn’t matter because I’m swearing off military men.”

Rooster’s eyebrows raised behind his aviators and he snickered, “Even the ones in the navy?” He hinted and you snorted.

“Especially the ones in the navy!” You quipped, more than a little drunk. “You’re all the same.”

“Hey,” Rooster objected facetiously, “What’d I do?”

Your smile faltered for a moment before you replied softly, “You didn’t come back.”

Rooster’s teasing grin dropped and his brows furrowed. “Oh.” He blurted, his shoulders falling for a moment, “Right.”

“Yeah.” You muttered, taking a long swig of your beer. “Y’know it was so long ago, don’t worry about it.” A hand on your knee made you look up from the bar.

“I’m sorry.” Rooster said, before taking his aviators off and putting them in his beater. The sight of his hazel eyes made your breath hitch. “Seriously, I was pissed because Maverick fucking pulled my papers from the academy.”

“He did what?” You nearly screeched, “What the fuck?”

Rooster just shook his head, “It doesn’t matter, the point is I should have called, or sent a letter or something.”

“A letter?” You snickered, making him smile at you. “What are you twelve?”

“Shut up.” He retorted, his thumb now moving back and forth just above your knee. Your eyes fell down to the sight before returning to his. His tongue flicked out to lick his bottom lip. “How long you stayin’ for?”

You shrugged, not actually knowing the answer. “At least a month.” 

Rooster smirked at that, giving you a satisfied nod. “Good.”

Before you could reply, Penny was in front of the two of you. She looked between you as she collected your empty glasses, sending you a smug grin. She walked away from you and you turned back to Rooster, seeing that he had never taken his eyes off you. 

“You look good, sunshine.” He rasped, tugging your barstool closer to his. The hand on your knee drifted upwards towards your dress, his fingers tugging at the hem. “Red was always your color.”

You teasingly rolled your eyes, reaching out and fingering his open shirt in return. “I see you still think you’re on Hawaii 5-0.”

Rooster’s eyes twinkled as he huffed out a laugh, “I seem to recall you liking this shirt. So much so that you asked me to fuck you in it.”

You shushed him and looked around the bar, “Keep your voice down, Rooster!”

“Maybe we should get out of here.” He hinted, his lips settling in a smirk, “So we can talk freely.”

You raised a manicured brow, noting how the hand on the hem of your dress was now under it, palming the skin of your outer thigh. You spared a glance at your aunt before biting your lip and nodding. “Okay.”

Rooster’s smirk grew and he called Penny over, handing her his card. The two of you got up from your stools and he pressed his front into your back as you waited for her to return with his card. Your body was already on fire, be it from the drinks or the fact that you could feel every muscle of his body on your back.

Penny returned with his card and you ignored the look she gave you as he pushed you in front of him, his hand on the small of your back as he led you out of the bar. The rocks of the parking lot crunched beneath your feet and you held in a giggle as Rooster pushed you against the driver’s door of your jeep. He put his hand above your head and leaned into you.

“Talk.” You quipped and he laughed, shaking his head. He raised two fingers and skimmed them down the bare skin of your arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Your chest heaved in a sharp inhale and his eyes went down to it, his tongue licking at his lips again. 

A low hum sounded from his chest and he crowded you against the door even more, ducking his head down. You felt his little puffs of breath on your lips and you looked into his eyes, daring him to kiss you.

“Ready for a dose of nostalgia?” He teased dryly, wrapping his arm around you and groping the fat of your ass. 

“I just hope you’re as big as I remember, Rooster.” You teased lowly, immediately getting the reaction you wanted as he pressed your pelvis into his. The thick, denim covered erection answered your question and all at once his lips were on yours.

The kiss was hard, almost angry. Your teeth nipped at his bottom lip and he groaned, smacking your ass through your dress as he pushed you against your jeep. His mustache scratched against your upper lip and it stung so good. You wondered what it would feel like on your other lips.

You buried your hands in his sun bleached hair, tugging with all your might as he reached under your dress and yanked at your panties, ripping the lacey nylon. It fell in a heap on the rocks and Rooster wasted no time in pressing his thick thigh between your legs, flexing it against your wet cunt.

“Rooster,” You moaned against his lips, your hands tugging at the button of his jean shorts. He grunted back at you as you unzipped his pants, pushing your hand into his boxer briefs. 

Rooster’s breath hitched and he gripped your ass in both hands, dragging your center along his thigh. “Is your pussy still pretty and sweet?” He rasped, pulling away from your lips to gauge your reaction.

You responded by squeezing his cock in your hand and sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. He groaned loudly, clenching his teeth as he yanked your hand from his boxers. He fell to his knees in front of you, pushing your dress up. He looked up at you and licked at a bead of sweat dripping down your leg, pressing sloppy kisses against your skin until he got to your center, where he licked you open for himself.

You cried out his name, burying a hand in his hair and throwing your head back against your jeep. Your head was spinning and your body was buzzing but it felt so good. Rooster sucked your clit into his mouth before burying his face into you, his thick tongue licking at your insides. 

“Fuck,” You exclaimed, tugging his face from under your dress, his lips shined and he licked you off of his mustache, with a cocksure smirk, “I can’t wait.” You muttered, dropping to your knees in front of him. 

Rooster huffed out a laugh as you tugged him out of his boxers, pushing him back and climbing on top of him. The rocks dug into your knees but you didn’t care, the only thing on your mind was getting him inside of you. His hand gripped the back of your neck and pulled you to his face, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth to make you taste yourself. You moaned in his mouth, jerking his cock between the two of you. 

“You want it, darlin’?” He muttered with a smirk as you climbed into his lap, “You want this big cock?”

You whined out a ‘yes’, biting your lip as he gripped your hips. He teased his thick cockhead at your opening, poking and prodding until he was piercing you with his length. He pulled you down slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. Your walls squeezed around him, welcoming his dick in like an old friend. 

“Fuck me,” Rooster hissed, settling you down flush against his pelvis, “Your pussy’s still made for me, huh?”

You nodded breathlessly, gripping the hands on your hips. He grinned at your response, pulling you up by your hips just a tad and thrusting into you again. 

“Rooster,” You sighed, your knees burning, “Fuck me open, later. I want it hard. I need it hard.”

Rooster raised one of his brows, thrusting up into you roughly. You gasped, your lips parting as he held up you up, sitting up himself to began fucking the shit out of you. Your body bobbed up and down, your hands reaching out to steady themselves on his shoulders.

Sweat began to bead on his forehead and you leaned forward to lick it off, making him grunt under you. “Dirty little sunshine,” He mocked, landing a hard slap on your ass, “I knew you needed to be fucked. I bet he didn’t even know how to touch you, huh?”

You bit your lip, fisting his shirt in your hands. Rooster sneered, tugging your dress down under your tits and taking one between his teeth. You cried out and he chuckled darkly, “Answer me.”

“No,” You cried, burying a hand in his hair, “He didn’t. Not like you, Rooster.”

Rooster smirked, looking up at you between your tits, “Nobody’s fucked you like me, right baby?”

“No.” You quickly answered, shaking your head, “Nobody.”

“Fucking right, sunshine.” Rooster smugly responded in a rasp, twisting his hips so his pubic hair brushed against your clit with every thrust.

“Rooster,” You breathed, feeling your body tense from your head down to your toes. He hummed in response, taking your other nipple between his teeth, “I’m so, so close.”

Rooster nodded, dragging you down by your hips and rolling into you, his cockhead right where it needed to be. His thumb brushed over your clit in quick flicks, sending you into a flurry of curses and moans. 

“That’s it.” He murmured, his other hand yanking your mouth to his. He kissed you deeply, his tongue running along the roof of your mouth as you began to come undone above him. He thrusted up into you one more time and that was all it took for your orgasm to wash over you like a waterfall, every sense overloaded. 

You could smell the sweat on his skin, you tasted the liquor on his tongue, you felt the pulsing of his cock, and you saw his blown out hazel eyes taking in your every expression.

You were in absolute bliss.

“Fuck sunshine,” Rooster spat, disconnecting your lips and grabbing your hips again, “Y’gonna make me cum, squeezing my cock like that.”

You clutched his head to your chest, letting him use your body so he could feel as good as you did. Your body still buzzed with the aftershocks of your orgasm and with every upward thrust, you were squeezing his cock tighter and tighter.

Rooster grunted, his breath coming out in little huffs on your chest. His fingers pressed into your skin even harder and you felt his balls tight against your ass as he moved you up and down his length. His mouth fell open and he let out a raspy yell, bringing you flush against his pelvis as he began to cum inside of you. His hips twitched as he shut his eyes, wrapping his arms around your body as every last spurt of cum shot from his cock, seeping out from where you were joined. 

Rooster’s chest rose up and down as he heaved in unison with you, his eyes lazily opening. The hazel orbs focused on you again and his lips tilted in a smirk. 

“Still got it.” He quipped and you laughed breathlessly. 

“Still big.” You retorted, making him chuckle as well. 

“It’s gonna be a great summer.”

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw