#roosterforme

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Somehow the timing was just right, and Bradley's arrival meant he could join you for your appointment. He'd find out if he was having a son or daughter in person, with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget he loved so much.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Bradley," you gasped, head tipped back against the pillar that was pressing into your shoulder. "Your duffle is here. I can see it." Actually, it was just going around and around on the conveyor belt while Bradley sucked gently on your neck and slowly bunched the fabric of your dress in his hand over your bump. And just like that, once again, your focus drifted away from the bag as soon as he spoke.

"I'll get it in a minute," he murmured next to your ear. "I'm a little busy."

You were getting side eye from a woman, and a random man was outright gawking at you, but you didn't really care. The airport was busy, but it wasn't enough to make you pull your fingers from Bradley's soft hair or tell him to stop kissing his way back to your lips. His bristly mustache made you sigh when he reached his destination once again, and you let him taste your tongue before you pulled away slightly.

"Roo. We're kind of on a tight schedule." When he just grunted in response and headed for your lips again, you laughed. "Daddy! Let's go see the Nugget."

He seemed to snap out of it a little bit, the desire in his eyes giving way to excitement. "Right. Let's go. I can taste you everywhere at home later."

When he took you by the hand, you had to dig your heels in. "We need your bag!" you said with a smile. Then he led you in the opposite direction and snatched his massive duffle up like it was nothing and tossed it over his shoulder. You had to hustle along next to him as he exited the airport through the sliding doors and headed for the parking garage. It was like he knew you parked near the spot where he totaled your beloved little Honda when he finally got you pregnant on his birthday. You felt your cheeks grow warm as you recalled the details.

He must have seen his blue Bronco in the last row, because he picked up his pace a little bit more. "I don't think we have time for reunion sex yet," he muttered, glancing at you and letting his gaze dip down your body. "But I'll take care of you later. You got along okay without me?"

You let out a little squeak as he tossed his bag in the back and headed for the passenger side door so he could unlock it for you. "Honestly? I haven't been as insatiable since the first trimester ended," you told him, leaning closer to inhale the scent of his deodorant. "At least... I wasn't until right now."

He pulled you close again and tilted your chin up so you were looking at him. "Listen, I'm a little keyed up, and I don't think I can be quick. Can you wait until later?"

"Oh, God," you whined, your skin tingling at the thought of how long he might last for you and how good he would feel. "This is just as exciting as when I felt the baby moving on Halloween."

His brown eyes went wide, and his lips parted in surprise. "You felt the Nugget?!" When you nodded, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me before?"

You just gaped at him. "Seriously? You had your mouth all over mine! How was I supposed to tell you anything?"

"Shit," he hissed and handed you the keys before his hands settled on your belly, drifting around, trying to feel something. "You drive," he said, slowly guiding you to the other side of the Bronco. "I need to work on feeling a kick." 

As he buckled you in behind the wheel, you didn't have the heart to tell him that the baby wasn't even moving around much right now, or that it would probably be weeks before he'd be able to feel anything externally. He was too adorable when he was this excited, and you watched him run around the hood and jump inside like an overgrown golden retriever who had been offered a treat. His eyes were wide as he got himself buckled before placing both hands on your belly.

"Okay. I'm ready to go," he informed you with a nod.

"You sure?" you asked, smirking as you put the key in the ignition. "A minute ago, you looked like you were ready to have parking garage sex again, and now you're all over me and the Nugget."

You shifted into gear, and he whispered, "I'm ready, Baby Girl. I'm so fucking ready to learn what we're having, and if I feel a little kick on the way, it'll be like a cherry on top of the best day."

You paid the parking fee and pulled out onto the main road as you realized you only had about twenty minutes to get to Dr. Morris's office on time. "Don't get your hopes up," you said while Bradley felt you all over. "You probably won't be able to feel anything. It's still early for that."

"Hey, not to be rude, Sweetheart, but I'm actually going to need you to stop talking."

"What?" you asked, so startled you laughed a little bit. "Did you just ask me to be quiet?"

He kissed your cheek while you drove and whispered, "It's just that I can't tell if it's the vibrations from your voice or the baby moving. Please? I love you." Now you were laughing even harder as his big hands moved all around on you. "No, no, that's- see you're actually moving more when you laugh though." He kissed your cheek again as you rolled your eyes and smothered your laughter. "That's better."

When you pulled into the parking lot of the medical complex, your husband's fingers were stroking your belly gently, and when you parked again and looked at him, you saw a few tears in his eyes. "You okay?" you asked softly. 

"Yeah. I'm good. Like really fucking good."

--------------------------

Bradley was forever wondering when his luck would run out. His life just seemed too good to be true. He was holding hands with his hot, pregnant wife in the waiting room, just buzzing with excitement. In a few short minutes, he was going to find out if he was having a son or a daughter. He wondered if this was how his dad felt in 1984. He wondered if Nick Bradshaw ever wanted to randomly get on his knees for his wife for no reason.

"They called us," you whispered, kissing his cheek before you stood up. Bradley jumped to his feet as well, so deep in thought, he hadn't heard anything. He'd never admit it to you, but this was probably more exciting than the day the two of you got married.

He pressed his sweaty palm to yours and walked past the reception desk at your side. Three short hallways later, and a nurse led you into a large, dimly lit room with huge computer monitors on one wall. "I'm so fucking excited, I might pass out," he said, voice deep and raspy. 

The nurse eyed him cautiously. "Perhaps you should have a seat while Dr. Morris performs the scan?"

He nodded, intercepting the cotton gown before you could take it from her. "That's a great idea. I'll do that."

Once she was gone, Bradley turned to you and started unfolding the gown while you stepped out of your boat shoes. "Are you really going to pass out?" you asked him as you started to pull your sinfully snug dress up your legs.

"Let me do that," he grunted, kneeling on the floor and pushing the fabric up and over your belly. He kissed your tattoo through your underwear, and then he kissed the spot next to your belly button where he always imagined the Nugget was hanging out. "I love you," he whispered before getting to his feet again and pulling the dress up and over your head. You weren't wearing a bra, and your breasts looked so fucking incredible, he wanted them in his mouth.

"You're staring at me," you said, reaching for the gown as you shifted back and forth in place like you were getting cold. "I know I look different. I gained like eight or nine pounds while you were gone once I stopped throwing up all the time."

Bradley let you take the gown from his hands. "Jesus Christ, maybe I really should sit down," he muttered, dragging a chair over next to the table where you'd be sitting in a moment. "And I was just staring at your tits, Baby Girl. You don't look different, you look fucking hot pregnant. God, this is more exciting than when you let me fuck you in the ass."

And that was the exact moment when Dr. Morris entered the room and cleared her throat. "Lieutenant Bradshaw," she said, reaching out to shake his hand as he hovered awkwardly over the chair before standing up again. "It's so nice to have you back with us." You were cradling your head in your hand in embarrassment as he shook hands with your obstetrician.

"Dr. Morris," he murmured. "I only missed the last appointments, because I was deployed. There's nothing else that could have kept me away, I swear."

She laughed and looked between the two of you and said, "Well, we do like a supportive and adventurous partner."

"Roo," you groaned softly as you started to climb up on the table. Bradley turned to help you, and you let him.

"She's a doctor, Sweetheart," he whispered. "She's heard it all."

"That's true," Dr. Morris said as she washed her hands, and you gave Bradley a bland look as you settled back on the table which was bent at an angle that would let you see the monitors. He was so excited, he just kissed your forehead a bunch of times while Dr. Morris asked, "Are we ready to get started?"

"Yes!" he practically shouted while you responded in a much calmer tone. He eased himself down into the chair and looked up at you as he reached for your hand.

"This is it," you told him with a nervous smile. "Any final guesses?"

He shook his head, his attention drawn to the monitors as they came to life. "I don't care one way or the other. I just want to know everything I can about the Nugget." 

Then he took your hand in both of his bigger ones and brought your fingers up to his lips as you said, "Me, too."

Bradley's heart skipped around as Dr. Morris spread the warm gel on your belly, and he had to press his lips together to keep quiet. He'd imagined himself holding a son, and he'd imagined himself holding a daughter. He had thought about names he liked for both. He considered what wild colors he might one day paint the bedroom walls, and he looked forward to it. He thought he'd be good at being a basketball dad or a dance dad or a cheer dad or a soccer dad. And that's why it didn't really matter what Dr. Morris said today. It didn't really matter what his kid was into or not into, because the Nugget was going to be an extension of the two of you. Somehow that equated to perfection in his mind.

"Let's count some little toes," Dr. Morris said, and then Bradley squeezed your hand as two tiny feet appeared on the screen.

"Holy shit," he whispered. There were ten perfect toes on his perfect baby, and he had to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand as you laughed softly in awe. The Nugget would be smart and confident just like you were. Bradley would get the attic taken care of, and he'd put together the jungle gym. He would do every single thing that needed to be done to make a perfect home for this child. He would take care of you every day right now until he was taking care of both of you.

"Now let's check on the fingers."

Ten tiny fingers, attached to the cutest baby he'd ever seen in his life. Bradley took a deep breath and let his forehead rest against your arm as he tried to get himself under control. "Oh my God," he whispered, knowing he'd be able to count those toes and fingers in person next year. He could tickle them and send piggies to the market. He could kiss them and watch them toddle across the living room floor after Tramp.

"Let's just get a look at the heartbeat and a few other things here." Dr. Morris was taking her time, which Bradley appreciated. He liked a thorough doctor, but the anticipation was killing him. 

The heartbeat on the screen had you mesmerized when he looked at your beautiful face, but then you turned to look at him. Once again, he had no idea how he ended up this lucky. "I love you, Roo."

His already blurry vision just got worse as he sucked in a deep breath. "I love you so much." 

This time you brought his fingers up to your lips and kissed him as Dr. Morris added a little more gel to your belly and smashed it down with the ultrasound paddle. "Are you sure you want to find out the sex?"

"Yes!" you said, smiling at Bradley like you fucking knew you were his whole world. Like you didn't mind sharing him with the Nugget from now on. "We want to know!"

Bradley watched your face as you watched the monitor. His fingers on your wrist told him your heart was racing just like his was, and you were licking your lips in anticipation. You were perfect. His life was perfect. His baby was going to follow suit, no doubt about that. A smile found its way to his lips, and his shoulders relaxed, knowing that the next words he heard were going to be perfect, too. How could they not be?

"Congratulations. It's a girl."

The feeling inside his body was something he never knew before. He felt as much love as he had when he listened to you read your wedding vows, but this was something more. He was going to have a perfect little girl. Tears filled his eyes as he realized he was going to get to love and take responsibility for raising a daughter.

"Roo!" you sobbed, reaching for him, and then he was on his feet and kissing you.

"A girl," he said even as he mashed his lips to yours. "A daughter."

He wasn't sure if he felt his own tears or yours on his cheeks as you pressed your forehead to his and asked, "Are you happy?"

It took him a few seconds to get control of his voice as he held your face in his hands. "I'm living the life of my dreams."

-------------------------

Bradley had tears in his eyes and ultrasound images clutched to his chest as you led him outside to the Bronco. His free hand was clasped tight with yours, and you'd never seen him look so happy in your life. "A little girl," he said, handing you his keys once again, and you already knew what he was going to do when he buckled you into the driver's seat. "We're having a girl," he whispered, brown eyes wide as he kissed your wedding rings.

You nodded and wiped your thumb along his cheek. "It just makes sense somehow."

"It does," he agreed, kissing your lips before leaning down to kiss your bump through your dress. "I love this Nugget," he whispered. "My daughter."

You whined his name as he said those words, and when he looked up at you, all you could say was, "You're going to be the best Daddy, Roo." You thought about it all the time. The way he'd carry the baby around and read bedtime stories. The way he'd always be patient and sweet. You weren't sure if you'd always imagined a little girl or not, but it made so much sense right now.

"Let's go home," he rasped, kissing his way up from your belly until he got to your tender breasts. Technically you were supposed to work this afternoon, at least that's what you'd told Bickel. As Bradley ran around to the passenger side, you dug your phone out and texted your boss, letting him know that the baby was fine, and you'd see him on Monday. 

"What's wrong?" Bradley asked as you tossed your phone aside and started the engine.

"Nothing. Everything is right. I'm taking the rest of the day off so we can spend it together," you replied softly as his hands found their way back to your belly. It had been too many weeks since you'd been touched, and it felt so good, you had to press your lips together to keep from moaning. "I want to spend it with you."

He grunted and kissed the side of your neck as you pulled out of the parking lot. "I'm not letting my girls out of my sight all weekend."

"Bradley," you whined, feeling so much desire for him. The two of you could start talking about nursery decor and girl names and when you wanted to break the news to everyone else. You could do all of those things this weekend now that he was home. But you were also just needy for him.

You made a little noise as you tried your best to go the speed limit, and you knew that your husband knew what you needed. "I'll take care of you, Sweetheart. Don't worry about that. I'll take care of everything." 

He was tracing hearts along your belly, and you turned to look at his slightly lovesick eyes when you stopped at an intersection. "I know you will." You delighted in the fact that you were having a little girl who would get to share all of his love with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget, and pretty soon she would be showered in it too.

When you pulled into the driveway and parked in the tight spot next to your red Bronco, Bradley eyed the pallets of jungle gym pieces. "I can't fucking wait to build that thing. I've been dreaming about it for so long." Then he was jumping out the door as you shifted into park, and he was around to your side in an instant. "Been dreaming about this day for ages," he whispered as you climbed down and into his arms. His hands found your lower back as he added, "Been thinking about you and the Nugget since I left."

You smiled up at him. "You know what might be fun, Daddy?"

"What?" he asked, keeping his eyes on yours as he started to lead you up to the porch.

"If you start building the Nugget's playset tomorrow, and you get all sweaty and let me watch," you said, your voice turning into a soft whimper at the end. 

Bradley jammed the house key into the lock, and shoved the door open. He hooked one arm around your waist and pulled you inside with him as Tramp started jumping around like a maniac. "Hey, buddy," Bradley told him with a smile. "I missed you, too. But I need some time with my girls first."

"It's okay," you said as you closed the door behind you. "He probably won't calm down until you play with him a little bit."

But Bradley was pushing you back against the door even as Tramp ran around in circles. "Wait right here," he commanded softly, and lust rippled through you at the sight of his pupils blown wide. "Don't move an inch." 

You felt like you were barely even breathing as you stood very still and watched Bradley lead Tramp past the piano and out the back sliding glass door. "I promise I'll play with you next. I just desperately need to fuck my wife." Then he made his way back to you, his lips set in a determined smirk, and his movements beyond sexy. "I promised I wouldn't leave you hanging."

You closed your eyes as his palm came to rest on the wooden door just next to your head. His warmth was so close, but he wasn't touching you yet as you whispered, "You always take care of me."

His fingers started to pull up the hem of your dress as he crooned, "Why don't you go ahead and tell me how much you missed me."

You tipped your head back until it met the door, and you kept your eyes squeezed closed as you whined, "Couldn't go another day without you." When his lips met your cleavage, your eyes flew open. His lips grazed your nipple through the thin fabric as he slowly knelt in front of you, and you told him, "Your daughter and I missed you terribly."

When he looked up at your face, he pulled your dress up and said, "I'm so in love with you." He ran his lips along your bare belly. "And you." Then he pressed the bunched up fabric against your ribs, and when he said, "Hold this for me, Baby Girl," you did exactly as you were told.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Fuck," he grunted, rough hands on your thighs as he kissed your belly button. "Do you have any idea how perfect you are?" His eyes met yours again. "You asked me if I was happy. I've been happy since I met you. Since you gave me a purpose. Since you let me love you." His hands found the scrap of your white lace underwear and started to pull it down your thighs. "God, I missed this," he murmured, pressing his lips to your pussy as soon as you were free of the lace which slipped all the way down until your panties hit your boat shoes.

"Bradley," you croaked, the second syllable sounding much longer than the first as he licked his way up your slit to the patch of hair that you kept neatly trimmed. He licked along this same path again, this time pressing deeper with his tongue. The third time, he separated you a little more, and then he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently. All the while he kept his big hands on the swell of your belly. "I really missed you."

He responded by kissing your dainty rooster tattoo and burying his face in your pussy. Bradley gently nudged your legs further apart so he could taste you everywhere, and each time you started to buck, he pushed your hips back. You were gripping your dress so tight in both hands, you were afraid you might rip the fabric, but he just kept going in a smooth up and down stripe until you could tell you were dripping wet.

"Yeah, you missed me," he grunted, kissing your tattoo one more time. "I can taste how much."

"Roo."

He got to his feet and cupped your pussy below the swell of your belly, circling your opening with the tip of one finger as he leaned in close. "Will you let me take you to bed and show you how much I missed you?"

Your voice shook as he pushed his finger inside you, just a promise of what was to come if you agreed. "Please!"

Barely ten seconds later, you were on your back in bed, your dress pushed all the way up, exposing your breasts and belly to him. Your soaked pussy was already clenching as the cool air hit your skin, and you watched Bradley wrench his shirt off and unzip his pants. But he didn't penetrate you yet. He pushed on the backs of your thighs so your knees got a little closer to your shoulders, and you whimpered his name.

His eyes were a little wild as he said, "Yeah, I'll take care of everything, Sweetheart." Bradley wrapped his hands around your thighs and leaned down to kiss at your furled nipples, his mustache leaving you squirming, searching for release. "Your fucking tits are huge. My God. And so warm." 

He nuzzled himself against your breasts which were in fact getting to the point where your bras were fitting a little too tight. He sucked and swiped his tongue along, and you let your fingers sink into his hair as he brought you close with his mouth wrapped around one nipple then the other. "Oh my God," you panted, just spurring him on. Because next, his mouth trailed back down to your belly where he whispered and worshipped you.

"I love my girls," he crooned, spreading your legs open wider as you tugged on his hair to keep yourself grounded. "I love you so much."

"Please," you begged softly, and he finally put that mouth back on your soaking wet core. You were about to come, grinding against his lips and his nose, his name falling from you like a depraved prayer. Eventually he paused before filling you with his cock instead. You cried out as he stretched you fully for the first time in so long, and almost immediately he was fucking you to completion. You came hard, your back arching off the bed as you grabbed at his shoulders, but you knew he wanted his share, too.

Bradley fucked you through your orgasm, lips pressed to your ear so you could hear every word he said and every deep rumble at the back of his throat. "You were made for me, weren't you, Baby Girl? And I was made to worship you."

-------------------------

By the time Bradley came, he was sweaty and babbling like a lovesick idiot. Everything he cared about most was right there in his arms as you took him deep, always welcoming him into your sweetness. The relief he felt was incredible as he finally rolled onto his back, pulling you a little closer as he went.

"I'm gonna be a girl dad," he said with a smile as he looked at the ceiling through his post orgasm haze. "I can't wait."

The slick friction from his cum teased at his leg hairs as your pussy rested against his thigh, and you snuggled up against his chest. "Me too, Roo. I'm so excited to meet her." 

Your fingers teased along his abs, lulling him ever closer to an afternoon nap. He knew that one of you needed to let Tramp back inside, and he was going to have to scrape together something for you to eat soon. But right now, he didn't want to move.

"What happened with your deployment?" you asked softly as he yawned. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about right now when he knew you were carrying his little girl, but he should have known you'd have questions. 

"It fucking sucked. Being away from you gets harder and harder each time now. They kept tacking on more weeks of these random bombing runs, and the weather was miserable. We had to fly in the rain half the time."

He listened to you hum, contemplating what he said. "It was so scary when you got called to action in the middle of talking to me over FaceTime. I couldn't stop crying. And then it was weeks before some random guy in personnel called me to let me know you were on your way home."

It was hard to believe he was on that flight back to San Diego just a few hours ago. "Honestly, in all of the excitement today, that already feels so distant in my mind," he told you, kissing your forehead as he thought about how long he had been away from you. "We didn't really know we were heading home until it was happening. And it was so late here when we got released, they told me they'd have someone reach out so I didn't have to wake you up again. Then there was only one seat left on the first flight home, and once Payback and I were being airlifted to Hong Kong, they told us to decide who was taking that spot. He gave it to me, no questions asked. Told me to get home to you and the Nugget."

You gasped and murmured, "Reuben is the sweetest."

Bradley chuckled as his fingers grazed along the side of your bump. "Yeah, well, you actually owe him three dozen chocolate chip cookies. That was the only stipulation for the deal."

Your laughter made Bradley's smile grow. "Totally worth it. Actually, since you made it home in time for my appointment, I'll make five dozen for him."

"No wonder everyone thinks I'm spoiled," he told you, tugging on you until you were straddling his hips and looking down at him with your hands braced on his chest. "Fuck. Just look at you." 

His sticky cum was matted in your pubic hair, and your tits looked delicious. There was no way he'd be able to keep his hands away from you now that he'd seen and felt your little bump in person. His daughter was growing in there. He smiled and ran his palm gently over your skin, stroking you with his thumb as your pretty gaze stayed transfixed on his.

"I'm happy you're home, Roo."

He nodded, eye lids growing heavy from jet lag and the time zones, and he simply didn't argue when you kissed his cheek and said you were going to let Tramp inside and then take a nap with him. Soon enough, Bradley was snuggled up in bed with his head resting next to your belly and your fingers tangled in his hair. Your sweet voice lulled him to sleep for the best afternoon nap of his life.

----------------------------

This has been a very emotional day for Bradley. He's home with his hot wife, and now he gets to start planning for the arrival of their daughter in a few more months! Thank you so much for reading about the Nugget! More to come soon, including the first wedding anniversary! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #aim for the sky

[callsigns-haze]

Daddy and Princess

@roosterforme, This is a series that I've cried over, screamed with happiness about and nearly smashed my phone in madness at some points. May our daddy and his fam have the best future from now!

Navigating the world of dating as a single dad, Bradley often feels like he's caught in an endless loop. Bringing a twenty-four-year-old student on board to babysit was meant to simplify his life, yet despite his best efforts to maintain boundaries, he finds himself irresistibly drawn to you.

As Bradley strives to strike a balance between his responsibilities as a parent and his desire for companionship, he grapples with the conflicting emotions that arise from his growing attraction to you. Despite his inner struggles, the pull towards you proves too strong to resist, challenging his resolve at every turn.

In the midst of this internal turmoil, Bradley must confront the complexities of his situation, navigating the delicate balance between his role as a father and his longing for connection. Despite the obstacles he faces, he remains determined to pursue happiness, even if it means venturing into uncharted territory.

"I love you, daddy." He kisses her deeply as she sits in that little crown. "And daddy loves you deeply, princess."

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[valmare]

So I accidentally answered your ask with the rough, ROUGH draft of this, @bradleybeachbabe and had to delete it, so here's the updated one! So sorry about this, honey!

Come Back to Me

"Darlin’, would you just simmer down and talk to me?"

The question comes too little too late, a whirlwind of thought replacing any hope of reason that the thought of stepping outside for fresh air had originally promised. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not again, not so soon.

Instead of reasoning out the absolutely awful feeling swirling through your gut at the mention of yet another deployment,  your head is spinning with a thousand different thoughts, a hundred emotions—at least.  It’s hard to see straight in the fading light of the Texas evening, long shadows from the barn not comforting, but not unwelcoming. 

There’s a taste of rain in the air, even if it’s rare for July as you double over at the waist, trying to heave air into the inferno that’s become your lungs. 

“C’mon, baby, don’t do this—” 

Jake Seresin’s words behind you, somehow, manage to knock the wind from your chest while poking a hot iron of rage through the center of your gut. You’re angry, livid even, for a heartbeat before he slows off his jog to you, hand extended, looking like he’s trying not to be as sorry as he is. Or maybe it’s reversed, you’re not sure. 

“Don’t! You stop right there, Seresin,” you backstep a few inches, finger pointed firmly at him as you slip into the long shadow of the barn, “I’m angry at you, remember? I’m not ready to kiss and make up,” your jaw stitches firmly in place, “Yet.” 

He slows up, brow lifted as if this is progress. “Yet?” 

“Yet.” You pout, arms crossed in front of you. 

Bleeding silence seems to seep to the dust beneath your boots, and for a second you think maybe you’ve hit the proverbial artery of the situation and actually rendered the notorious Hangman, a man known for his silver tongue and quick wit, speechless. About to congratulate yourself for managing to say so upset with him and not melt into his hands like putty, he shoots you that smile—the one that levels your knees, leaves you breathless, and sends you into a reeling spiral. 

“Come on, Peach—you can’t stay mad at me forever. Not when I’m leavin’.” 

You guffaw in his face, expression an exaggerated shock that is purposely intended to knife between his ribs. “Oh, is that so? Really, Jake, you do have it all figured out, don’tchya? Well, let me tell you what you can do with all that cock and bullshit—” 

In three steps he’s rushing you, grabbing your wrist, and pulling you flush up against his chest in ways that send a lightning bolt down your spine. Mildly concerned you’re on fire but wholly aware that ice is tracking through your veins, you glance at his large hand gripping your wrist tightly, then where your chests are brushing before furrowing your brow solidly at him. 

“Easy, darlin',” his smug expression pulling the corner of his mouth up in a smirk, his sparkling eyes are full of a life you wish you could forgot but know you won’t when he’s gone. "Take it easy for Jake, would ya?"

Your mind spins back to the barn of the Seresin family homestead, where the foaling barn is teeming with new life and the warm, sharp scent of fresh hay. You’d been happy to check in on the newest foal, a stunning overo paint, when Jake had meandered his way into the barn to find you giving happy scratches to the baby’s nose. 

At first you’d hesitated taking Jake up on his offer to fly down to Austin and stay with his family for a few days, apprehensive what they would think of you, an Okies girl. If it promised anything short of the drama your initial meeting with Hangman had, it was sure to either go up in flames or become one for the books. 

You hadn’t been sure if the 50/50 split was worth the risk, knowing Jake was a family guy. Any rift between girlfriend and family would only mean bad things for you, the aforementioned squeeze. Addressing your concern about his Austin-rooted family receiving your Oklahoma Okies blood one night over drinks and darts, Jake had laughed off your concern as nothing but overthinking before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“They’re gonna love you, baby. An’ if they don’t, I’ll figure out a way to make ‘em love ya. The rivalry is football, darlin’—you could come from a cardboard box and I doubt Mama will care.” 

His kiss and soft eyes scouring yours had set your flaming nerves to somewhat of an ease, but the day you’d boarded a plane for Austin, your nerves had been flayed raw. The rivalry between colleges may have only been in football, sure—but if Jake’s family was anything like yours, football was next in line to God, family, and country. Next to the Navy, of course—perhaps Jake’s only saving grace when it would come to bring him home to OKC. 

When Jake had angled his truck into the driveway to park and unload your luggage, the hole in your middle had felt nearly visible. Fluttering with butterflies and clammy with nervous sweat, his mother had barreled out of the front door to greet you, arms opened wide and what seemed to be the exact smile from her son plastered on her face. She’d rocked you in her arms, greeting you with a big old Texas “Howdy, darlin’!” while laughing and giggling like you were her long lost kin. 

His bustling family had welcomed you into the house with food and an abundance of Texas hospitality. It became blindingly obvious that Jake had inherited his mother’s charm, and his father’s ego—for two hours you had listed to Mr. Seresin boast on Jake’s brother kicking for the Longhorns, the family’s home team. Being an Okie’s fan you had to keep your jaw welded closed with a plastered smile, but you couldn’t deny the pride nearly popping the man’s buttons. 

And Jake. Good god, his family never stopped talking about him and the Navy and all his accomplishments. If you hadn’t been dating him and hellbent on knowing everything about Hangman, it was enough to drive anyone nuts. 

If they weren’t asking about the Navy, they were speculating about all his adventures and missions. Hyperbole, since Jake hadn’t deployed to anything remotely dangerous since you’d started dating, but you’d nearly melted at how much they adored him. You doubted there was a prouder family this side of the border. 

It manifested not only in the smiles and jests and stories, but in the food. Mama, as you’d been instructed to call her, had brought out all the fixin’s for her baby home from the Navy—right down to peach pie, his favorite, and buttermilk biscuits. Tonight’s dinner promised his father’s fair-awarded-for-six-consecutive years chili with cornbread.

Any more talk of mouth-watering food and you were sure you’d have to shop for a new wardrobe before you flew home. 

Overwhelmed with the family’s fawning and dead on your feet with jet-lag, you’d made your way to the barn for some alone time. Quiet and familiar, being from Oklahoma with a daddy who worked cows for a living, nothing could quite compare to the nuzzle of a newborn filly or the bright eyes of a curious colt. Standing in the most magnificent barn you’d ever seen, the Seresin homestead felt like home, even if home was a thousand miles from here. 

Jake hadn’t told you that his father was in the business, or that his sister trained cutting horses. You’d told him that when he’d come up behind you, thick arms snug around your waist.

Resting his chin in your curls as you stared into one of the stalls, he’d simply shrugged and chuckled, joking how he wanted you all for himself—and that if he’d told you about the ranch, you’d be in for “all the wrong reasons.”  

Joking, the comment had made you both chuckle as you’d watched the mare nudge her foal with her soft nose, prodding him to walk around the freshly bedded stall.

The best kind of silence unfolded between the two of you, before Jake’s nose nuzzled behind your ear, a thick kiss pressing against your soft skin. 

“I gotta talk to you about somethin’,” he’d breathed against your pulse point, his other hand slowly skimming down your curves to land at your waist, “and you aren’t gonna like it, Peach.” 

Then he’d told you about the call from Pete. That he needed to get back to San Diego, that papers had come in for him last minute. You’d whirled around so fast in his arms that you’d knocked Jake off his orbit, sending him stumbling a few steps back as you braced against the stall, eyes wide and fearful at realization of what it meant. 

He’d be gone for seven weeks. Overseas, running flight simulations. Nothing terribly dangerous but he’d still be gone—and he wanted you to stay here, with his family. Pouting, you argued the point that your life was with him in San Diego, not in Texas. That you couldn’t just uproot your life for a month and a half to run to Austin and hang out at the Seresin ranch like this was some Hallmark movie. 

This was his third deployment since you’d started dating. Never mind that it meant good things for his career, that he was in with the right people and drawing the right attention—you were selfish, wanted him home. Slowly you were building a life together and Jake Seresin wasn’t in it nearly as much as you wanted him to be. 

Sure, he was one of the best. Cream of the crop, really. But he was yours. Telling him to his face had put a startled look of pleased and surprised on his face, one that had him smirking and trying to fight off a chuckle. 

He’d attempted to blow off your reaction. Tied to distract you with that seductive look of his, but that had only pissed you off. “I can’t believe you’re laughing about this!” had been what you’d boomed in his face before stalking out of the barn, hot tears brimming in your lashes. 

It wasn’t his fault. The reasonable side of you knew and understood that this was his life, his job, something he’d committed to before you came into his life. It didn’t make it any easier. You were proud of Jake for his career, for pursuing something he loved and mastering the shit out of it—but playing second fiddle to his sixty million dollar aircraft and Uncle Sam? 

It was exhausting. Demeaning. And, it was taking Jake from you. 

Eyes tracking yours, it’s more painful than you ever thought it could be. 

“It’s okay, sweet girl. I’m coming back,” he’s chortling in disbelief, shaking his head slowly while his hands come to hold your face gently, “It’s only seven weeks, Peach,” that sweet and ridiculous nickname rolls off his silver Austin tongue like you always dreamed it would. It should make you smile, but all it does is send a flare of painful heat into your chest. 

“Seven more weeks, Jake,” your eyes drop to his chest, tears sliding down your face freely, now, “I don’t know that I can let you go again,” his hands firm up around your face and he lowers his forehead to yours, his nose brushes the tip of yours lightly, affectionately. 

“You can,” his breath is hot, laced with cinnamon from what you can only guess is one of those flavored toothpicks, “I need you to. Gotta have someone to come back to, my girl.” 

Your sniffle is aggressive before you drop your head to his chest, clinging to the Longhorns t-shirt that has become a staple in any of Jake Seresin’s weekly outfits. Corded, thick arms wrapping around you, he holds you against his chest, chin in your hair, letting you sniffle and pout at the Navy, at the world, against him. 

Your anger at him begins to fade, slowly. Rationale hits, and you blink back the crocodile tears that seem more ridiculous than they had minutes ago. Lifting your head, Jake angles to consider your face, which is now certainly the most unattractive blotchy red you can imagine. The corner of his mouth ticks up in a smile as his big thumbs begin to brush away the bubbled tears beneath your lashes. 

Eyes tracking to his shirt, the Longhorns logo is dark with wet tears, and your paw at it with an embarrassed chuckle. Jake takes your wrist in your hand, chuckling, before taking your chin between his fingers lightly to tip your face up. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, closing your eyes as inability to stare into his face consumes you, “I’m selfish and don’t want you to leave.” A frosty little pout sets into the back of your words, and your toes curl in your sneakers, as if it’ll help hold onto the sentiment and give it purpose. 

He snorts. “You absolutely are selfish,” he’s laughing now, and you playfully sock his huge bicep, which hardly moves him at all. Protesting, he brushes your hand down and grabs the front of your jean shorts, fingers slipping through belt loops to shuffle you close against him. “But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t sexy as hell seeing you all selfish over me, sweet girl.” 

You smirk at him as he kisses the corner of your mouth. “When do you have to be back in California?” 

“Tonight,” he hasn’t stopped lightly kissing your jaw, his fingers skipping softly under the hem of your shirt. “I’ve gotta catch a plane here in a couple hours.” The thought sends a pang of sadness to your gut as he adds, “Mama wants you to stay here, like we planned. I told her I didn’t know if you’d come home with me or what.” 

Jake’s softly suckling at the juncture between your clavicle and neck, his tongue lathing thick, hot circles into your flesh. Biting the inside of your cheek, you can’t think of anything worse than being in San Diego alone, again, for seven weeks. But you also can’t imagine being that far from home either. Staying means getting to know Jake’s family in intimately embarrassing detail, but going means you’re home, in your own bed, waiting for him. 

“I’ll stay for a couple of days,” you decide, humming softly as his kisses grow in ferocity and you chuckle, “I’m not quite ready to give up your mother’s cobbler just yet. Haveta prepare for withdrawals on that one,” 

You feel his smile spread across your skin as he draws back, eyes scanning yours fully. “I love you,” his thick accent drops to what should be an illegal low, “and I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” your jaw sets a little, wanting him to be sorry but also understanding it isn’t fair, “just be quick, Jake.” It’s your turn to take his face in your hands, and you guide him down a little to brush your lips against his. “Come home to me quickly, flyboy.” 

He nods. “Yes’m,” before his arms pull you in for another tight hug, chest crushing against yours, “drive me to the airport so you can kiss me goodbye?” It’s a question, but the way he asks it, matched with the expression on his face, says it’s expected more than it is requested. 

Smiling softly, your eyes drop to his mouth. “Only if you ask nicely,” you draw up on your toes to kiss the corner of his mouth ever so lightly, “kiss me, Seresin. There’s a lot of days you won’t be able to the next seven weeks.” 

He hums his approval before kisses you hotly, fully, his mouth nearly devouring yours as his tongue skips across your bottom lip, nearly to the back of your throat. Jake is a Frencher, and he wastes no time thoroughly tasting the velvet warmth of your mouth, leaving you breathless for a moment when he breaks from you to draw in a thick, chest-swelling breath of air. 

His fingers are tugging through your hair pleasantly as he tips your head back to pepper kisses at the hollow of your throat. Nearly melting, Texas sunlight kissing your face with its pleasurable light, you feel the rumble in his chest as he brushes aside your bra and tank straps, pressing a searing kiss to the soft flesh of your shoulder. 

“Is that all you want, baby girl? Is for me to kiss ya?” 

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[thedroneranger]

A Little Time Alone

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Précis: Bradley and his wife have been busy with everything except each other.

Note: One of two entires for @roosterforme’s #love is in the air tgm love song playlist challenge. This fic is inspired by Luke Comb's The Kind of Love We Make.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut.

Word count: 3.7k

It had been weeks since we spent any time together. 

Between the new curriculum and latest batch of pilots, I was coming home late every night and leaving early every morning.

At first, she was doing her damnedest to stay up until I got home. Each night, before sliding into bed, I would slip her tablet from her clutches and remove her askew reading glasses, placing both on her nightstand. Once I settled into bed, unconsciously, she would snuggle into me, allowing me to fall asleep with a smile.

However, lately, it was clear she had been sleeping for hours. Tucked into bed, fast asleep with just her hair peeking between the bedding. I would slide into my side and do my best not to disturb her.

Each morning, I didn’t leave without giving her a goodbye kiss, but guilt always edged my decision to not wake her. Instead, I would press my lips to her forehead or cheek, whichever was exposed.

Things seemed to take a turn after her plan to surprise me with lunch on base was foiled. Normally, she would coordinate with Maverick, if he were around, or the security guard she had befriended to sneak into my office with sandwiches from our favorite deli.

Of course, she always wore a dress, which made it easy for me to bend her over my desk for a pleasurable finish. 

We had a text code so I knew to expect her. The last time she plotted a lunchtime date, I, unbeknownst, stood her up. Unable to check my texts all morning, I never saw her message and never went to my office. It wasn’t until later in the evening I saw several messages and a couple missed calls. 

I was devastated and wanted to apologize in person. However, she was always asleep when I got home. I even tried to call a few times during the day, but I never managed to catch her. After that, we exchanged fewer and fewer texts throughout each day. 

Even our weekends had been spent separately. I found myself on base more and more for special events and training. Hell, the last couple weekends, I even slept there.

She, on the other hand, has been a godsend, representing us both at family get-togethers and other personal events.

I can only imagine how she felt, likely making up excuses for my lack of presence.

The whole situation made me absolutely miserable.

“Bradley. Bradley. Bradley!” My head jerked to find Maverick intensely staring at me.

“Yeah, Mav?” I coughed to clear my throat and gave him my full attention.

He and I were alone in his office. Maverick and I were co-instructors for an upcoming class. We were going over the lesson plan when my thoughts drifted. “What’s on your mind, Bradley?” Mav put down his pen, leaned back in his chair and looked at me.

Shifting in my chair, I noticed the tension in my shoulders and that I’d been holding my breath. Subtly untensing, I spoke. “I can’t remember the last time I spent time with my wife, and she’s getting distant.”

Maverick leaned forward. He loved her like a daughter. Actually, I was convinced he liked her more than me. Mav was always reminding me not to let work ruin our relationship. 

Not that he had room to talk. 

Although, he and Penny have appeared rock solid since getting back together. Once Maverick proposed and they wed, Penny was the happiest I’ve ever seen her.

“Bradley—”

I cut off Mav. “I know, I know. Don’t fuck it up.”

“Go home,” he said.

“What?” My eyebrow cocked.

“Go home. Report back on Monday,” Mav said. We stared at each other for almost a full minute. “Go fix it.” The tone in Mav’s voice told me he was about to make it an order, so I nodded, gave a quick salute and dashed out.

Not having been home at a decent hour in nearly a month, I forgot what traffic was like. It had me doubting if I would be home any earlier than as of late. 

Her vehicle was in the driveway when I finally pulled up.

My feet were carrying me faster than my brain was processing. My mind was trying to get my hands under control so I could get the key in the door, when the door flung open.

A gasp left her lips as our gazes locked. “Hey, stranger.” She did her best to hide a smirk. Unfazed, I walked toward her, forcing her to back up and allow me into the house. Once far enough in, I closed the door. 

“Hey,” I replied. My eyes raked across her form. She was wearing a short red sundress and some strappy sandals. My cock twitched. I could not recall the last time I saw her in anything other than our fluffy duvet. 

“I should go—I don’t want to be late.” She walked toward me and got on her toes to kiss my cheek. However, I turned my head and captured her lips with mine. She hesitated for a second, but melted into me as I wrapped an arm around her waist and the other hugged her ribcage. Her hand slid from my bicep up to my neck. 

We separated just enough to look into each other’s eyes. “I hate that I forgot what you feel like,” she said. 

The comment made me hold her tighter. “We can’t have that,” I said as a matter of fact. Her eyebrow and lips quirked. I smiled at her. “I’ve been missing you more than you can imagine,” I confessed.

She was still looking at me with a tight smile. “I may have an idea.” She pursed her lips and looked off the side. Then, she looked back at me and pressed her lips to mine. As we kissed, I uncoiled an arm from around her, so I could reach back to lock the door.

She heard the click. “I have to go,” she said with her lips still against mine. 

Again, we separated just enough to look at one another. “Cancel.” My voice was more demanding than either of us expected. She looked surprised but not offended. “We need a little time alone.” I sounded softer. “So tonight, I’m only gonna be your man,” I told her. She raised an eyebrow. “I’m off the entire weekend.”

“Bradley Alexander—” She was ready to scold me for messing with her. 

“Scout’s honor.” I held my fingers up in the Eagle Scout sign. We stared at each other. “There’s no way I’m leaving this house, especially when you look this good.” My hand dropped lower to squeeze her backside. She dropped her head trying to hide the blush in her cheeks as if I’d never seen it before.

“Go shower,” she said. My grip on her loosened so she could step away. “I’m not spending the evening huffing jet fuel.” She looked my attire up and down. I left in such a rush, I still had my flight suit on. 

Extra swagger in her hips, she sauntered to the kitchen. For a split second, I considered following her and bending her over the nearest surface. But tonight called for something slower, softer than a counter quickie.

Instead, I went to our ensuite bathroom and let the water pressure ease my muscles. Soothed by the water and steam, I lost track of time. When I realized, I hopped out, did a quick shave and dressed.

We were home, but she was wearing that sinful sundress, so I at least wanted to wear something I knew she’d love. I put on my favorite pair of worn jeans, a white tank and an Aloha shirt I knew was one of her favorites. 

I padded downstairs, noticing the lights were low and she’d lit candles. A smile turned my lips when I heard Led Zeppelin IV spinning on the record player—I thought about the countless times we made out to this soundtrack.

When I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I stopped in my tracks. She was sitting on our small breakfast table, palm supporting her, head tilted back, wine glass to her lips. One leg ran the radius of the table while the other hung off at the knee. Her heel popping to the beat of the music.

She turned to look at me. “Wine?” She held out her glass. I shook my head as a coy smile pulled a corner of my mouth. She winked as she polished off the last sip in her glass.

As I approached the table, she shifted so she was facing me and placed the glass at her side. Stepping between her legs, I pushed the glass further back. A hand on either side of her, I leaned so we were at eye level. 

Her hand cupped the side of my jaw, and her thumb ran along my lips. Mindlessly, I pressed a kiss to it. The tiniest smile curled the corners of her mouth as she searched my face. I hummed as her fingers traversed the raised skin of my scars and came to rest on the dip of my chest just below my clavicles. “Do you have any idea how handsome you are?” she asked.

Surely she felt my chest rumble as I chuckled. “Only when you tell me.” My voice was raspier than usual. Leaning further into her, I dropped my head to place soft kisses on her neck. 

“Surely other women tell you.” I knew exactly what she was doing. 

“I can assure you, they keep their thoughts to themselves,” I replied. Between kisses I told her about my latest class catching sight of her on base. It was the last time we had lunch together before our drought. A couple of them commented about a hot civilian. Turning, I found her chatting with Maverick. 

I told them the easiest way to not return from a mission was ogling another pilot’s spouse. One of the women who had been doing her damnedest to flirt with me blurted, “That’s your wife?!” I nodded at her with a wink. She paled and never looked me in the eye again.

The earned laugh that quickly morphed into a moan had me considering unzipping my pants and unceremoniously fucking her. But I had to pace myself. She was flat against the table, my body covering her with my forearms holding me up as I kissed whatever exposed skin was available. The raggedness of her breathing kept me going. 

“Do you know how hard it is for me not to wake you up every night at some ungodly hour?” I told her, picking my head up to see her response. 

Her bottom lip was between her teeth as her eyes twinkled in the low light. “Why wouldn’t you wake me up?” she asked. Her thighs were squeezing my hips, the skirt of her dress covering almost nothing. 

“First, you sleep through absolutely everything.” She chuckled as my hands skimmed her bare thighs. “We could be having a magnitude 10 earthquake, and you’d sleep through it.” She nodded in agreement as one of my hands slid between us. 

I froze. “Where are your underwear?” She never went commando without a purpose. 

She propped herself up on her elbows. “Maybe I was hoping you would be home, in bed, when I returned. And I could wake you up.” She paused. “If you came home.” Her gaze was intense.

My smile faltered and my head dropped with my shoulders in a moment of guilt. Quickly, I looked back up at her. “I’m sorry.” Still gripping her thigh, my thumb drew circles on it. 

“Show me,” she said.

“Excuse me?” I had expected her to scold me or for us to get into a deep conversation about the past month.

She moved my hand from her thigh to between her legs. “Actions speak louder than words.” Expertly, she maneuvered my hand to guide two fingers into her. “Show me how sorry you are. How much you’ve missed me.”

For a minute, I froze. Tired of waiting for me, she wrapped her hand around my wrist to slide my fingers in and out of her. Finally, I got a hold of myself, my thumb pressing to her swollen bundle of nerves and the pads of my fingers stimulating that spongy spot inside. Her breath caught as I took over.

“That’s it, honey.” She melted against the table. “Let’s take it nice and slow.” She clenched around my fingers—I thought I might come right then. “Fuck,” I said under my breath. She smiled as she watched me squeeze my eyes shut. 

Back on her elbows, her fingers snuck into my hair and pulled me until our lips connected. My lips parted just enough to allow her tongue in. It toyed with mine, matching the rhythm of my fingers pumping in and out of her. Her lips left mine with a smack. “Bradley,” she moaned as I alternated between scissoring my fingers and curling them against her G spot.

“That’s it,” I cooed, keeping the same pace and pattern. I could feel her tightening around my fingers. “Fuck,” I breathed out, enjoying the feel of her. My lips fell to her neck, knowing the additional contact would send her over the edge. 

The stutter breath she let out matched her contractions around my fingers. “That’s it, honey.” I watched her face as she went through her high, my fingers keeping pace. As she untensed, I slowed to a stop. She looked at me as she steadied her breathing and a smile appeared. She continued to watch as I cleaned her from my fingers. Immediately, she pulled me down to taste herself.

She hummed as we separated. “Go pick another album. I wanted to make out with you on the couch.” My cock jumped from just the words leaving her mouth. Standing to my full height, I helped her off the table. 

She shooed me with her hands to the living room where my inherited record player was housed. I thumbed the sleeves until I found the perfect selection: The Velvet Underground’s Loaded.

As soon as the needle fell into the groove, she appeared with the bottle of wine. We both traipsed to the couch. She split the wine as I settled into the sofa. I accepted a glass and then beckoned her to sink into my side. Together, we sipped and listened to the opening song. 

As the next began to play, she placed our empty glasses on the coffee table and straddled my lap. My hands came to rest on the tops of her thighs, pushing the fabric of her dress higher to expose more skin. She shimmied even closer to me, so she was at even more of a height advantage—my head was tipped almost completely back. 

Her fingers sifted through my locks, her nails massaging my scalp. A deep breath I didn’t even realize I was holding escaped my parted lips. She smiled as she watched me relax. My eyes were practically in the back of my head, her massage turning my mind to mush.

She tugged my hair, which earned a moan and caused me to shift under her. She ground against me, the stiff seams of my jeans caressing her most sensitive spot. I let her roll my head to the side so she had better access to pepper kisses along my neck. She continued to grind against my denim-clad crotch. Boy, did I wish there were less fabric between us. 

My fingers dug into her thighs as she sank her teeth into my neck. “Christ,” I said under my breath. She sat back and eyed me, proud of the reaction she got. Her thumb passed over the spot that would surely be purple later. “Maybe your students will have fewer questions come Monday.” Before I could say anything, she leaned in and sweetly pressed her lips to mine. 

“You’re such a sour patch kid,” I teased. She smiled at the nickname while she nipped my lips and swirled her tongue against mine. At the same time, her hands were busy unfastening my jeans. She climbed off my lap, and I lifted my hips to help her rid me of my garments. 

Climbing back into my lap, her knees bracketed my hips and the tops of her feet contoured the curve of my thighs. Her core rested against my length. I wanted nothing more than to guide myself into her.

“It’s really unfair you look this good in such a silly print.” Her fingers followed the shoulder seams of my shirt to the collar. Using the points, she pulled me back in for a kiss. As we separated, her hands dipped under my collar and over my shoulders to help shed the cloth. 

Once that was off, she took advantage of a tiny hole I hadn't noticed in my tank. Penetrating it with her finger, she pulled and the fabric easily gave way. I watched as the hole grew and she fisted the fabric to snap it at the hems. She untangled me from the ruined garment and dropped it to the floor. 

My arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer and hands palming her backside through her dress. Her hips lifted, and with one hand, she guided me into her. Slowly, she returned to her resting position. A sigh left my mouth as I felt her adjusting to me.

“Honey,” I trailed off as she squeezed me a couple times. We kept eye contact as she began to slowly lift and lower herself. The pace quickened just a bit as she fell into rhythm with the music.

As she kept going, my hands slipped under her dress and began to pull it up until it was over her head. Once it was off, my mouth immediately found one of her nipples. The moan that left her lips was euphoric. 

It made me bite her harder. She let out something between a moan and cry as her nails sank into my shoulders. I hissed, enjoying the burn as she scored my skin.

She was frustrated, and I wanted every bit of that energy. 

Not wanting to miss any of it, I coiled an arm back around her waist and easily flipped us so she was laying on the couch parallel with the cushions. 

Her doe eyes stared up at me, filled with surprise. My quirked lip grew to a smirk, as I anchored a hand on the cushion beside her head and the other on the couch back. My hips began to rock, setting a new pace for us. The lust came back to her gaze as her soft thighs met my hips and her heels found purchase in the dimples of my ass. 

I held it together as her nails gently ran from the top of my cock to just under my pecs and back. Her touch was soft but firm enough not to tickle. I flexed a little extra. 

Watching her breasts bounce with each thrust was enamoring. Her breathy gasps each time I bottomed out were the only noise I was hearing. My eyes sank as she stopped touching me and started touching herself. 

My pace stayed the same, but my gaze was trapped where we connected. I slid in and out while her digits swirled along her swollen nerves. My hips stuttered from the added pleasure as her index and forefingers made a V around the base of cock. “Fuck me,” I whined. 

She smiled. “No, you’re fucking me,” she corrected. We laughed together. 

“I missed this so, so much,” I confessed. Wanting to be closer to her, I sank to my elbows. I tucked my palm behind her head, letting my fingers sift through her hair. Her eyes were hooded as she looked at me through her lashes. 

We locked gazes as she took a deep breath and moved her hands to my waist, her nails sinking into the flesh just above my hips. At the same time, I felt her entire lower half contract, thighs hugging me and core convulsing. 

“Bradley.” My name was long and drawn out as it left her lips. It was enough to make me spill into her. I breathed her name into the crook of her neck as I curled my arm under her head, my elbow became her head rest, to hug her whole body as close as possible. Her hand ran up my side and hooked around my shoulder. 

I followed her name with a pleasurable hiss as her teeth sank into the meat of my shoulder. She punctuated the action with a tender kiss. The first of several she trailed into the crook of my neck as we rode out our orgasms.

Just as we came down from our high, the record ended. “Perfect timing.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead before pulling out and heading to the record player. She whined, but turned to enjoy the view as I walked away. Patiently, she waited as I flipped the vinyl and put it back on the player. I lined up the needle perfectly, and immediately the opening notes seeped out of the speakers. 

By the time I was headed back to the couch, she was standing beside it. “Should we change the dress code in the house to birthday suits only?” I pressed my body to hers, enjoying the full frontal contact and handful of her ass I grabbed. She squeaked and arched her back. My lips covered hers to distract from her attempt to escape. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled into her lips. 

We parted just far enough to look one another in the eyes. Her expression was playful. “Apology accepted.” I squeezed her around her ribcage and stuck my face in the crook of her neck. Although we were stark naked, our hug was earnest. 

As we separated, she held my biceps, keeping us close. “Let’s go upstairs so you can keep doing what you’re doing to me all night long.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Together, we blew out all the candles, and then walked upstairs hand-in-hand.

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The Baddie™ Bunch (my taglist): @roosterforme, @cherrycola27, @notroosterbradshaw, @taytaylala12, @malindacath, @violyn20

#love is in the air tgm #bradshaw baddie™ #for the bradshaw baddies™ #roosterforme #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooter bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #Spotify

[cherrycola27]

Burnin' Up

Pairing: Jake x Fiancée!Reader

Warnings: Some Language, mostly fluff!

...........................................

You tapped your fingers to the beats of your 2000s Pop playlist. It was finally Friday, and you were itching to get home and get ready for your anniversary date with Jake.

Your engagement ring gleamed in the late afternoon sun as you tapped along to the Jonas Brothers. You hoped Jake would appreciate the high heels and red dress you had picked out for tonight as much as Nick, Joe, or Kevin would've. Though you hoped he'd appreciate the matching red lace set you'd planned to wear under it even more.

You glanced at the clock on your dash. It was 3:45. You'd left school the moment all of your students had gone, knowing you would need every available minute between dismissal and the time he arrived home from base to get ready. Jake had told you that your reservation was at 6 pm sharp and that he had planes to get ready on base right after training.

You were thankful that he had decided to do that because that meant you had full reign over the bathroom for at least an hour and a half.

You turned onto your street just as the song was finishing. You made a mental list in your head of what you needed to do when you got home.

However, all of those plans went out the window when you rolled into the driveway, and Jake's Silverado was parked in his spot.

Worry set it. Being a teacher meant that on most days, you left before Jake. However, he almost never made it home before you did. You checked your phone to make sure that you hadn't missed a text from him saying training ended early. Nothing. Now you really were getting worried. If Jake was home, that meant something was wrong.

You quickly gathered your things and made your way into the house.

"Jake?" You called out. You slipped your shoes off next to his boots. You hung up your keys and set your bag down next to the bench in the mudroom.

"Jake, honey, I'm home!" You called out again, waiting for him to answer.

You padded your way through the kitchen and into the living room. You were just about to head upstairs to see if he was in the shower when you heard a faint groan come from the couch.

You tiptoed over to the sofa and peaked over the edge. You let out a sigh of relief when you saw Jake asleep, one arm thrown over his head, the other dangling off the edge. You were half tempted to take a photo, but then he let out another groan in his sleep.

Your brows crinkled when you noticed that his body was flush, and he was paler than usual.

You gently shook his shoulder trying to wake him, without startling him.

"Jake," you cooed to him before stroking his face.

You quickly pulled your hand back because his forehead was searing hot to the touch.

"Jake, baby, wake up." You said, jostling him.

His eyes flew open, and he quickly sat up. "What time is it?" He asked in a haze. "It's a little after four. Honey, are you feeling okay?" You respond to him.

"What—yes I'm fine. I had a headache, and Maverick let me come home a little early. I just dozed off when I got home. I was hoping a nap would make me feel better before tonight," Jake told you.

"Sweetheart, if you aren't feeling well, we can celebrate our anniversary another night. Why don't I call the restaurant and cancel our table, and we can stay in and relax?" You say stroking his head. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, he definitely had a fever.

"Absolutely not! I've had this planned for over a month. This is our last first date anniversary before we get married, and I wanted to make it special for you!" He proclaims.

"Jakey, I understand that, but if you're sick, I don't want you pushing through it and being miserable all night." You tell him, trying to reason with him.

"Listen here, woman, I do not get sick!" He states matter of factly. To further try and prove his point, Jake quickly stands up, ready to change for the evening. But when he rises to his feet, the room starts to spin.

"Easy there, cowboy." You say, jumping up to steady him.

You press the back of your hand to his forehead and sigh.

"Jake, you're burning up." You tell him

"Yeah, for you, baby." He quips back.

"Jacob Thomas Seresin Jr., would you just admit that you don't feel well so I can take care of you?" You huff out, placing your hands on your hips.

"You used my full name. Does that mean I'm in trouble?" He chuckles.

"You will be if you don't get your ass upstairs and let me take care of you." You threaten him.

"But honey, I don't want you to have to do that. I'll be fine." He tries to convince you, but it's too late. You're already dragging him by the arm towards the stairs.

"In sickness and in health, Jacob. In sickness and in health." You call over your shoulder.

"We aren't even married yet!" He half argues back.

"And if you don't get changed into some comfy clothes and get your ass in that bed, we won't be." You tell him sternly.

"I don't know why you're worrying about me. I'm telling you, I don't get sick!" Jake huffs, tossing his clothes into the hamper and grabbing a pair of sweatpants.

His back is turned to you, but he can feel the daggers you are staring. He decides it's best not to argue with you. He would also never admit it, but he is feeling kind of crummy. His head hurts, he feels exhausted, and his skin was kind of clammy.

He trudges over to his side of the bed and climbs in. You come over and make sure he is comfortable, tucking the covers around him and kissing his forehead.

"Here." You say holding out a glass of water and a bottle of cold medicine. He accepts them without a fight, downing the medicine taking a sip of the water.

"Thank you, honey," He says before setting the glass on the night stand.

"You're welcome. Now, I'm going to call the restaurant and let them know we can't make it, and then I'm going to make you some soup. Get some rest baby." You say before heading back downstairs.

By the time you return upstairs with some soup and a Gatorade, Jake is fast asleep.

You smile softly at him. Jake always tried to put up a macho man front. It warmed your heart for him to let his guard down around you.

It hadn't always been this way. When you had first met Jake, you thought he was a certified asshat. He had strolled up to you at the Hard Deck, toothpick in his mouth and beer in his hand.

He tried everything to win you over, but you wouldn't budge. It continued like that for weeks. The truth is Jake was dying to get to know you. He couldn't figure you out, but he desperately wanted to.

One night, you finally snapped at him. "Bagman, you are such an annoying human being. You go around like you know who I am, but you don't!" You had yelled at him, pushing his chest.

"Sweets, I don't have you figured out at all. You've got me on my toes. Every time I come in here, all I want to do is get to know you. Why won't you let me?" Jake said back smoothly.

His honesty had sealed the deal for you. After that, you were his girl. Soon, you would be his wife.

Jake shifted in his sleep, arms reaching out for you. He let out a groan, and his brows furrowed together.

You quickly set the soup to the side and changed into some sleep shorts, and one of his old Navy shirts. You slipped under the covers and snuggled up next to you.

He sighed contently, tucking you under his chin.

You sank back again him, enjoying this tender moment.

You don't remember falling asleep, but the next morning, you wake up, and your body is cold and achy. The sheets that are supposed to be occupied by Jake are empty.

You sit up and see that the soup from last night has been taken from the room, and his sleep clothes are neatly folded on his side of the bed.

"Jake?" You call for him as you walk downstairs.

"Baby! What are you doing up?" He asks, turning the stove off.

"I could ask you the same thing." You say putting your hands on your hips.

"I feel so much better this morning, so I wanted to surprise my best girl with breakfast in bed." He tells you.

"Aw, Jakey, you're too good to me." You smile, coming into the kitchen to hug him.

"Just trying to be half as good to you are you are to me." He says, embracing you back.

You pull back as he leans down to kiss you, but just has he does, you start to cough.

"Uh oh." He says. Looking down at you.

"Don't give me that look, Jake." You tell him.

"What look?" He feigns innocence.

Suddenly, everything hurts, and you're freezing cold. Jake gives you a knowing smile.

He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, you cut him off.

"Don't say it, I know, I know. And I'm going back upstairs to bed. I'll take some medicine and hopefully feel better in the morning." You half laugh turning away from him.

"It's my turn to nurse you back to health now, baby!" He yells up the stairs.

"Don't you dare, you're the reason I'm sick, Jake!" You yell back from the top.

You can hear him laughing through the house.

This may not have been the anniversary weekend the two of you had originally planned, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

And that's it, folks! My final entry for @roosterforme 's love is in the challenge! I hope you enjoyed it. This fic was inspired by "Burnin' Up" by the Jonas Brothers. My teenage self is screaming!

Tag List: @dreamingathighaltitude @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mak-32 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @rosiahills22 @thedroneranger @roosterforme @youlightmeupfinn @withahappyrefrain @arson-tm @sebsxphia

#top gun maverick #top gun #lt. jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #hangman seresin #hangman top gun #jake hangman seresin #love is in the air tgm #roosterforme #cherrycola27

[blackwidownat2814]

It's a Nice Year For a...White Wedding-Pt.1 (J.Seresin)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x female reader, Jake Seresin x Garcia!reader, Jake Seresin x latina!reader, Jake Seresin x plus size!reader

Word Count: 2624

A/N: Written for @roosterforme's 80's Rocktober Playlist Challenge. As you can tell by the title, I chose Billy Idol's "White Wedding". I'm late in posting, I know, but life decided to smack me across the face and steal my inspiration. That is why I'm breaking up the story into two parts. I felt it was better to get something out now (that was good), rather than nothing for a long time. I want to thank my betas, @jobean12-blog & @buckysdollforlife, for looking over what I have and reassuring me that it was indeed flowing perfectly fine.

Triggers: fatphobic moments (but it doesn't go into super detail).

��️⚠️I do not give permission for any of my work to be copied, translated or reposted anywhere else but on my own blog or on AO3.⚠️‼️

Masterlist

Engagement-Spring

“Dew, trust me, I know EXACTLY where to go on our honeymoon”, Jake declared one day a month after y’all’s engagement.

“Oh?”  You looked at him with an inquiring eyebrow from your place at your desk.

“Yeah darlin’.  You’re going to love it.”

“And what is this honeymoon I’m going to love?”

“Can’t tell ya.  It’s a surprise.”  You pouted as he walked around your desk and leaned on the arms of your office chair, scooting his face closer and closer to yours.

“Not even a little hint?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him and sticking your bottom lip out even more.  Jake smiled that big Jake Seresin smile of his and he leaned into the kiss.

“Nope.  Not even a little one.”  He stood up and smiled at you again, “I’ll see you later Dew.  Love you!”

“Love you too Hangman!” you called as he jogged out of your office.

“We need to choose a date Jake.”  Your fiancé launched a dart at the board and turned to you.  The two of you were having a fun night out with the rest of the Daggers at the Hard Deck.

“I agree m’dear.  Any ideas?”  He picked up his bottle of Shiner Bock and took a drink.

“I’d like sometime in October”, you countered from your seat on a bar stool near him.  “How about you?”

“I was going to suggest a date in October too, actually.”  He walked up and stood himself between your spread knees.

“Oh really?” you replied coyly.

“Yeah.”  He grinned and leaned into a kiss.  One of your hands slid from where you gripped him on his waist to the back pocket of his jeans.

“OH MY GOD.  Hermanita!  Can you not?!  I’m trying to eat mozzarella sticks here!”  You smiled in the kiss and lifted a hand towards Mickey, and flipped him the bird.

“Shut up Fanboy.  Let your sister be gross with Hangman”, you heard Rooster say to your brother…followed by a smack.  You wondered (as Jake continued to kiss you) who hit your brother upside the head.

“Phoenix!”

“Rooster’s right, let her be”, you heard your friend say.  “But if this starts turning into what I almost saw in her office last week, I’m throwing a pitcher of water at them.”

Your head jerked quickly to the right and you narrowed your eyes at Phoenix, acutely aware that Jake’s lips were now moving against your neck.

“I thought I told you not to mention that.”  She simply shrugged her shoulders at you.  Mickey turned to look at you with a horrified look on his face.

“In your office?!  I visit you there!”

“Oh, relax Fanboy.”  Jake had finally pulled himself away from your neck.  “Just wait ‘til it’s your turn.”

“Never”, your brother said with a huff, and went back to angrily dipping his mozzarella sticks in the marinara sauce.

“Anyways”, Jake said as he looked back at you, “I talked to my mama the other day and she invited us down in a couple weeks to throw us an engagement party.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”  Jake looked up at the rest of the squad, “And all of y’all are invited too, obviously.”

“Aw yeah!  I’ve missed Mama Seresin”, said Javy.  Suddenly, his eyes got big and he smiled like you hadn’t really seen before.  “Is she going to make her banana pudding?”

“She wanted me to tell you that she’s going to have some Tupperware with some for you at the airport.”  Javy let out a whoop in excitement.

“So”, bringing Jake’s attention back to you, “What’s the date you were thinking?”

“If you’re cool with it, how about October 13th?”

“Why that specific day?”

“It’s Navy’s birthday.”  You gave your fiancé a big smile.

“You nerd.”  You gave him a big kiss, ignoring an annoyed groan from Mickey.  “I love it.”

Venue, Wedding Party, and Dress -Summer

You looked up from your latest romance novel to watch your found family going at it in another rousing edition of Dogfight Football.  Rooster pulled back and launched the ball towards Jake, who caught it.  You jumped up to cheer.

“YEAH!  THAT’S MY MAN!!!” you yelled.  “YEAH BAY-BEE!”  Jake gave a little bow in your direction and blew you a kiss (you spied Rooster and Mickey pretending to throw up behind him and started laughing).  A few minutes later, Mav called time and everyone dispersed to their towels.

You dropped into your camp chair, a gift from Jake so you’d be comfortable anytime you came down to the beach with him and the squad…or even just on your own.  The best part about it wasn’t even an original part: your wonderful fiancé had noticed the book sleeve you carried around sometimes and got one custom made to attach to your chair.  You thanked him thoroughly.

Jake plopped down in his own chair next to you and opened a bottle of water to hydrate.

“Whatcha readin’?”

“Mickey bought me the physical copies of Catharina Maura’s books I was missing from my shelf, so I’ve decided to re-read them.  I’m starting with my favorite, Forever After All.”

After a while, everyone made their way over to the Hard Deck’s outside seating to have a group lunch.  Phoenix decided to bring up the latest wedding topic.

“So, have you two decided on a venue?”  You and Jake shook your heads.

“First we thought of having it on my parent’s ranch in Texas, but most of the guest list lives out here.  So now we’re looking into finding somewhere here.”

“Do you have an idea of what you’d like?” asked Mav.

“I want something outside”, you responded.  “That was the original idea for the ranch.”  Mav looked at Penny and shrugged at her.

“How about a beach ceremony?” Penny suggested.  You whipped your head around to Jake.

“My girl’s smilin’ big already.  I think you hit the nail on the head there, Penny.”

“Why don’t you have it out here?  Afterwards, we can do the reception inside”, she added.  “Before you say no, that you don’t want to put me out or something else like that, let me just say we have plenty of space and I’d love to be able to be part of your day like this.”

Jake simply looked at you with a big smile on his face.

“It’s perfect darlin’.  After all, this is where we first met.”

You and Jake decided you wanted to include your found family as much as your actual families in the ceremony.  You more so than him, since the only blood relative you had (and still spoke to) was Mickey.

Jake suggested asking Isla and Jesse if they wanted to be part of the wedding party, so you did a FaceTime call with them.

“HI AUNTIE DEW!”

“Hey my beautiful girls!  How are you?  What are we reading?”  Jesse proceeded to tell you about how she had just started reading the Babysitters Club series and you got pretty excited since it was one of your favorite series’ growing up.  You promised to show her your original copies of the entire series the next time she came to visit.  Isla then started to tell you about the latest picture book she read, Dragons Love Tacos.

“It’s so funny and I love tacos too!  We have the best tacos!” cried Isla.

“Yes we do”, Jake added.  “So, Jesse.  Isla.  Auntie Dew and I are calling because we wanted to ask you if you wanted to be in the wedding.”

You knew Jake had a higher tolerance for loud sounds because he spent his time in jets, but you spent your time in a quiet environment, so when the most ear piercing shriek you’d heard up until that point emanated from your iPad, you assumed you were now deaf.  When your hearing returned, Jake was calming the girls.

“Hey, y’all need to use inside voices, okay?  Don’t want us going deaf, do ya?”

“No Uncle Jake.  Sorry Auntie Dew.”

“It’s no problem girls”, you replied, wiggling your finger around in your ear.

“Can I be a bridesmaid?” asked Jesse.

“Of course my darling!  Once I choose the colors, I’ll let your mama know so you can go dress shopping, okay?”

“Yes ma’am!”  You could both hear Lauren (who was behind the camera) promising Jesse they’d go shopping as soon as you let them know.

“Isla, since your sister wants to be a bridesmaid, I have a special job for you”, you said with a big smile.

“Really Auntie Dew?  What’s my job?”

“I’d like you to help Uncle Mouse and I make it down the aisle to your Uncle Jake.”  You smiled big at Isla’s nickname for your brother, because she was absolutely convinced he was the Disney character thanks to his first name (even if it was technically Miguel).  “Would you like to be our Flower Girl?”

You swore you were going to be deaf if you kept surprising these little girls with anything else throughout their lives.

Once you had Jesse and Isla’s roles set,  you went about putting together the rest of the wedding party.  Because your wedding wasn’t some big blow out affair, the both of you decided on having just one attendant each (besides Jesse and Isla).  Jake obviously chose Javy as his Best Man and you decided on Bob as your Man of Honor, the two of you becoming even better friends since his and Jake’s accidents last year.  Another obvious choice was that your brother would be escorting you down the aisle.

The two of you still wanted to include the rest of your friends somehow and it finally came to you one night while you were wasting time on TikTok.  You showed Jake the video and when he finally stopped laughing, he agreed to your proposition.

“Phoenix, Payback, and Rooster are going to LOVE that.”

The next item on your To-Do List was the most difficult one: dress shopping.  Going shopping for any kind of clothes, let alone a wedding dress, was difficult…especially for a bigger girl.  Jake helped you to learn to love yourself more every single day, but the first couple of trips to bridal salons managed to beat the extra love you’d gained right out of you.  Really, it was your fault because you’d gone on the first couple of appointments alone.  At the first salon, you wandered the shop for almost 15 minutes before any of the salespeople came to ask if you needed help, and when the woman did, she looked at you with a look that basically said What is someone like you doing here?  It was sad, because it was the shop you’d dreamt about going to as a little girl when you were thinking of your dream wedding.  You didn’t tell anyone what had happened that time or the other times.

It wasn’t until you were having an impromptu Girl’s Night with Phoenix while out at the Hard Deck that the topic of your dress came up.

“So Dew, you find a dress yet?”

“Uh no, Phe, I haven’t.”  You took a sad sip from your Pina Colada.  Penny walked up and leaned on the counter in front of you just then and you avoided looking at her or Phoenix so they would see your disappointment.

“Why not?  You need to get a move on!  Altering the dresses takes time you know”, Penny interjected.

“I know!  I know it takes time!”  You had tried keeping the emotions in, but you couldn’t.

“You okay?” questioned Phoenix.

“No!  I’m not okay!  My wedding to the most gorgeous man ever is in a handful of months and I have no dress because every salon I’ve been to up until now has nothing for girls like me or they basically refused to help with a whole ‘We don’t serve your kind here.’ ‘tude!  Like, what is this?!  Mos Eisley and I’m a droid trying to get into the cantina?!  It’s a wonder Jake wants to marry me!”  You ran off before either woman could recover from your outburst.  

You were woken up the next day when someone jumped on you.

“What the f--”

“Time to get up, sleepy head!”  You cracked your eyes open to see Phoenix, Penny, Bob, and your brother all staring at you.

“What in the ever lovin’ hell are y’all doin’ here?”

“Well, hermanita, we’re here to help you dress shop.”

“Huh?”

“Phoenix and I told these two over here about what you said to us yesterday”, added Penny.  “A friend of mine owns a shop that is miles better than the places you’ve been to already.”

“So we’re stealing you away today while Jake, Rooster, Coyote, and Payback look for suits”, added Bob.

“So get out of bed, get dressed, and let’s go shopping!” Phoenix cried.  She and Penny shooed the boys out and waited with them in the living room while you cleaned up and got dressed.

An hour later, the five of you stepped foot into Wildest Dreams Bridal Boutique…and the place really lived up to the name.  Every single dress you saw as you walked in was beyond gorgeous and there were posters of models and mannequins of all sizes.  You were going to find your dress today.

Your party was met by Penny’s friend Kathryn (“Or you can call me Kat, whichever is alright with me!”), who sat you all down on a couch in front of a raised platform and mirror, a la Say Yes to the Dress!.  Shop assistants brought over champagne to your family and friends (with a Coke for Bob) while Kat took you around the shop and asked your preferences (“I definitely need it to have pockets!”) and other questions about the ceremony, like location and time of day.  Once she had what she needed, Kat took you to a changing room where you got into a robe and she returned with several dresses.  

You marched out to the couch area where everyone was and showed off each dress.  By the time you had tried on the seventh dress, you were beginning to lose hope you’d find something.  It wasn’t the fit or that the dresses didn’t look good on you, you just hadn’t had the ‘look at yourself in the mirror and immediately begin crying because this was The Dress’ moment yet.

You were sitting dejected in your robe when Kat came back in with two more dresses on the rolling rack.

“I’m confident it’s going to be one of these two”, she adds with a smile.  “Let’s get you dressed.”

The first dress was gorgeous, and you felt it. Phoenix, Penny, Bob, and Mickey all loved that dress.  Penny was all for that first dress…and you almost said yes.  There was just something missing.

When Kat unzipped and held open the second dress and you stepped into it, you shuddered (in a good way).  Kat watched your reflection in the dressing mirror and stood back in a thoughtful pose.

“There’s still a little something missing.”  She thought for a minute and then suddenly snapped her fingers.  “I know!”

Kat left and came back quickly with some veils.  She quickly put your hair up into a low bun and then pinned the veil in.  Kat moved behind you and picked up the train to walk you out to your family.

When Mickey saw you, his eyes began to glass over with tears.  Bob just sat dumbfounded, mouth hanging open.  Penny and Phoenix had big smiles on their faces.  You stepped up onto the platform and Kat fluffed out the train.

Not a single one of them said a word, because they all knew what you did: this was The Dress you would marry the man of your dreams in.

Part 2 is coming soon!

#Jake Seresin #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin #Jake Seresin x you #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin x female reader #Jake Seresin x plus size!reader #Jake Seresin x latina!reader #Jake Seresin angst #Jake Seresin fluff #Jake Seresin fanfiction #80s Rocktober Playlist Challenge #roosterforme

[daggerspare-standingby]

Don’t mind me. Just here for my weekly - ITS WEDNESDAY AND THAT MEANS BATTING PRACTICE post :) I’ll be home in time to read the update that Em @roosterforme so timely gives us at 7pm est.

And now back to your regularly scheduled scrolling

#roosterforme #put me in coach #coach and kitten #put it in me coach #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader

[eternalsams]

Just so everybody knows, this is the same level of achievement for me

@roosterforme

#roosterforme #Danny ramirez

[bobgasm]

I'm scared and confused, and I just want to know what happened to Timothy.

timothy came back from his lovely vacation where he met a lovely skellygirl called maurine and he’s been drinking ever since bc i’m getting bullied online and maurine left him on dead (it’s like read but for their skelphones)

#asks #friends #replies #roosterforme

[swiftsgirlfriend]

≛ ¡𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐖 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐒; 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒!

≛↝ @roosterforme

ɪꜱ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ?[completed]

ᴏʟᴅ ʜᴀʙɪᴛꜱ ᴅɪᴇ ʜᴀʀᴅ[completed]

ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɢɪʀʟ, ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ (ꜱᴇQᴜᴇʟ ᴛᴏ ᴏʟᴅ ʜᴀʙɪᴛꜱ ᴅɪᴇ ʜᴀʀᴅ)[completed]

ʙᴀᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ[completed]

ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇ[completed]

ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴜꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ (ᴍɪɴɪ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ)[completed]

ᴛᴡᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀɴɢᴏ (ᴍɪɴɪ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ)[completed]

ᴀɪʀᴘʟᴀɴᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴇ (ᴍɪɴɪ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ)[completed]

ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇʀ ᴋɪɴᴅ[ongoing]

ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀɴ[ongoing]

@sunlightmurdock ↜≛

ꜱᴜʙ ʀᴏꜱᴀ[completed]

ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪꜱᴇ[completed]

ꜱᴀꜰᴇ ᴢᴏɴᴇ[ongoing]

ʙʟᴏᴡ ʙʏ ʙʟᴏᴡ[ongoing]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴅʏꜱꜱᴇʏ[ongoing]

ᴀꜱʜᴇꜱ, ᴀꜱʜᴇꜱ[ongoing]

≛↝ @roosterbruiser

ʟᴀɴᴅꜱʟɪᴅᴇ[completed]

ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ[completed]

ᴠᴏᴜʟᴇᴢ ᴠᴏᴜꜱ (ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟᴇᴅ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴅᴏᴡɴ[completed]

ᴠᴏᴜʟᴇᴢ ᴠᴏᴜꜱ[ongoing]

@beyondthesefourwalls ↜≛

ᴛʜɪꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ[completed]

≛↝ @gretagerwigsmuse

ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴡᴇ’ʀᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ɪɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴡᴀʏ, ᴡᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴏᴋᴀʏ[completed]

divider by @cafekitsune

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #roosterforme #sunlightmurdock #roosterbruiser #beyondthesefourwalls #gretagerwigsmuse

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 8 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Now that Anna knows what Bob's hands feel like when he's holding her close, she doesn't know how to stop herself from going back for more. But she's unwilling to even humor Bob when it comes to what he wants the most.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, masturbation, eventually 18+

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

"I'm waiting for you to thank me."

Bob looked up to see Nat in front of him with a little smirk painted on her lips. He'd been spending the last twenty minutes trying to act normal, something he forgot how to do after Anna kissed him in the kitchen. Because it wasn't just a kiss, it was everything. It felt like she really wanted him.

"Thank you for what?" he asked cautiously.

Nat laughed heartily like he'd just told a very amusing joke. "For pushing you and Anna together. Bradley told me the situation, and that woman was jealous of me touching you. Her face was all pinched, and her lips were pressed into a tight line. Jealous. She wants you. And my god, she's hot. What the fuck do they do at San Diego State? Only interview you if you've got your PhD and a modeling contract?"

Bob knew he was blushing, and he was happy she wasn't calling him out on it. His friends were all talking about him and Anna behind his back at this point, trying to figure out what was going on. "We kind of just made out in the kitchen," he muttered, glancing across the yard at Anna who was talking to Jess and still holding the can of ginger ale he gave her.

"Yes!" Nat said with absolutely no subtlety, slapping Bob's shoulder. "Oh fuck, the two of you will have the cutest kids! Freckles and strawberry blonde hair!"

He had to close his eyes against the idea of it, willing the flush in his cheeks to subside. When he opened them again, Anna was looking right at him. Her gaze was a little unsure, and he was starting to get afraid she wouldn't let him drive her home later. But he wanted to walk her up to her door. He had been thinking about it since the very first time he drove her home.

"It's not like we're together or anything," he muttered.

"Yet," Nat told him, looking so certain. "Not yet."

It was getting late, the sun dipping lower in the sky. The temperatures would start cooling down once it was dark, and Anna was only wearing shorts. Bob's eyes easily found those freckles on her thighs once again. Her skin looked so damn soft. He wondered if he would feel goosebumps beneath his fingers if he traced that pretty pattern, gently connecting her freckles with an imaginary line. He had to swallow hard as she started heading his way.

Nat squeezed his wrist and muttered something about work, and then she vanished into the house. With Anna standing right in front of him, Bob wished he could just lean in and kiss her the way Jake always did with Jess, and the way Bradley always did with his wife. He wanted it. With Anna.

"I'm getting a little chilly," she told him. "I guess I overestimated how warm autumn was going to be in San Diego. It's still better than New Jersey though." She was talking to him like she hadn't been rubbing the front of those little shorts against the fly of his jeans barely an hour ago, and now he was sweating.

"You should wear jeans next time," he replied before realizing how stupid he sounded. "Not that you should be covering your legs or anything like that! You have very nice legs. Nice freckles? I just don't want you to be cold."

He cradled his forehead in his hand while Anna laughed softly. "I'll wear jeans next time. Do you think you could give me a ride home soon?"

"Sure," he promised immediately. "Absolutely."

"Great." Then she turned, and Bob heard her saying goodbye to Jessica. Why was he so awkward? Why was that exchange so weird? How was he supposed to make Anna want to kiss him again when he could barely string two normal sentences together?

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Anna was trying to make a quick getaway, craving another few minutes alone with Bob. His truck was cozy, and she knew it would feel warm. His voice was sexy, and so was the way he moved. She wanted to kiss him again, even though she knew it was a terrible idea.

"Take some leftovers!"

"No, I'm fine," Anna told the hosts as Bradley tried to talk her into taking some of the extra burgers home. "But thank you." She was terrified that Jess may have said something about how sad Anna's lunches were; she had been doing her best to hide her current financial state from her friends, but she must have slipped up somehow.

"Well, will you come over for dinner one night? I love cooking for Sugar, but I always end up making way too much food."

Anna looked down at her feet. "Sure. I could do that. Jake invited me over there, too. I know he always cooks for Jess."

"Okay," Bradley said, his voice a little rough and his face annoyed when Anna looked up. "I'm a lot better at cooking than Jake is, first of all. Second of all, why don't you have dinner at his lame ass condo, and then let me know what he cooked. Then I'll cook a much better version of it for you and Sugar one night."

She was trying not to laugh; she knew they were competitive, but she didn't know it was quite this bad. "That sounds great, Bradley. Thanks for inviting me over today."

He just waved her off. "You're always welcome. You're one of us." He said it so casually before he started scraping the grill and cleaning it up, Anna just stared at the pattern of his tie dye shirt for a few seconds. He considered her part of this group now? This ridiculously cool friend group? If she thought about it for too long, she knew she would start crying. 

"Thanks," she whispered, turning and running directly into Bob's solid chest.

When she looked up at him as her fingers grazed along his shirt, he asked, "You ready to head out?"

"Yeah." Anna felt the slight pressure of Bob's hand at her lower back, guiding her toward the door.

"After you," he said softly. 

Anna had to walk inside the house and past Natasha, who she had clearly embarrassed herself in front of before. But the brunette just waved goodbye like she was completely unfazed by the events from earlier. Like it was totally normal for Bob and Anna to be together, heading out front to his truck as the setting sunset turned the sky orange.

Bob pulled the door open and helped her into his truck, and Anna thought maybe it was okay for this to be normal? To get a ride home from Bob after kissing him in her friend's kitchen? To have a painfully unrelenting crush on him that made her feel like perhaps love was a choice that you made for yourself? 

She watched him walk around the font of the truck, his glasses catching the last rays of sunlight as the streetlights started to warm up. He was beautiful. He climbed into the truck gracefully and looked at her bashfully. She was the reason he wasn't more confident right now; she knew it, and she was annoyed with herself for it.

He cleared his throat quietly and said, "Before I forget, I have your copy of Papillon." Then he reached for the glovebox, his knuckles brushing her bare knee. "Sorry," he whispered, pulling his hand away immediately.

Anna's heart was in her throat. How was she supposed to tell him that she liked it when he touched her, even by accident. He reached for the glovebox again, this time making sure his movements kept him clear of her leg. "It's okay," she told him, breathing deep. "I didn't mind it."

The only answer she got was Bob carefully handing her worn out book back to her. There was another little note folded up inside which made her remember she never read the one that was in Wuthering Heights before she left it in her office at work. He started the engine. The drive back to her place was too long, and too short at the same time. She was surprised to find that he was heading in the right direction without a reminder about her address. As the sky darkened, Anna tried to listen to the music playing on the radio, but all she could really hear was the sound of her own heart pounding. 

When Bob parked the truck in front of her building, she watched him squeeze the steering wheel with both hands while he stared out the windshield. "Anna...when you say you didn't mind it when I touched you...what does that mean? And what happened back at the cookout? Am I allowed to kiss you now? Or am I supposed to just figure out how to get over you?"

She fumbled with her seatbelt, heart thundering at the sound of his unsure voice. She wanted to ask him why he even liked her, because she had literally nothing to offer someone like Bob Floyd. But instead she said, "I meant I like it when you touch me. Even if it's by accident."

He turned to look at her, and when he saw she was crawling across the seat, his eyes went wide, and his hands slid from the steering wheel. "Anna." He inhaled a sharp breath when she planted one hand between his thighs, brushing his jeans with her fingers. She couldn't stand him thinking she didn't want him for another second. He was all she wanted. Somehow moving to San Diego got her some actual friends and a job she liked, and now a decent man with only green flags was into her, and she just couldn't make him think she felt otherwise. Even if they couldn't be together.

Bob's hands were planted on the seat at his sides, and he wasn't moving an inch as Anna straddled his legs. It was dark out, but she could see his gaze dip down to her cleavage before he met her eyes. When he spoke, his voice was deep with need. "Is it okay if I touch you now?"

"Please."

Anna's little cry of delight echoed through the cab of the truck as soon as Bob's hands settled on her bare thighs. His touch was light yet intentional, and it just left her wanting more. He was running his thumb along the frayed edge of her denim shorts, teasing her as he whispered, "I want to kiss you."

She didn't answer. Instead she reached for him, letting her fingers sink into his silky hair, leaning closer until her lips met his again. The kisses in the kitchen had been a little frantic, forcing her to get over the fact that Bob didn't want Natasha. He wanted Anna. But this was something different. Languid and slow. Needy yet decisive. She wanted to touch the rough stubble of his cheek, so she did. She wanted to feel his bottom lip tugged gently between hers, so she did. Then she parted her lips and tasted him.

The scrape of her nails along his jaw had his fingers sliding up inside the bottom of her shorts, and she wished she wasn't wearing them at all. She wanted to know the feel of his hands everywhere. "Anna," he murmured against her lips. She tugged on his hair and kissed him a little rougher, but she gasped and gave up control as soon as his big hands found their way over her shorts to her hips and yanked her snug against him. There was no more polite distance. No more breathing room. Just his hard body pressed to her soft one.

Bob's glasses were cool against her cheek, keeping her grounded as his fingers met the skin of her lower back while he tasted her tongue. His touch tickled her, and she rolled her hips forward, earning a grunt of pleasure from him. "Please," Anna whined, like it was the only word she even knew. Then her mouth was back on his. Bob's fingers traveled an inch higher, and she ground against him, but this time he broke the kiss.

When he tipped his head back, he looked bashful in the glow from the streetlights. She could feel him. He was getting hard for her, and it was delicious. Her brain supplied every suggestive line of poetry it had ever absorbed in her lifetime, and all she wanted was to make him get harder. 

She was ready to start unzipping his jeans when he eased his hands away from her body and whispered, "Will you let me walk you to your door? I've been wanting to do that for weeks."

----------------------

It was slow going, trying to get to Anna's apartment door. They kept stopping to kiss, even going so far as to end up with her body pinned between his and the wall in the stairwell. Her soft laughter as he kissed the side of her neck echoed through the enclosed space, and then she said his name.

"Bob."

Actually, it was more like a whine, and it reverberated off of the walls beautifully. "Yes, Anna?" he whispered, letting her lace their fingers together. He wanted to do this all the time. He wanted to be her boyfriend. 

She just made a strangled sound as he kissed as many of her freckles as he could get his lips on before pulling her away from the wall. Then they finally made it upstairs to her door. If she invited him inside, he wasn't sure what she would expect. As much as he was ready to skip all of the pleasantries, he knew he needed to do this just right.

"Oh," she whispered, seemingly to herself as she unlocked her door. But she didn't turn the knob as she looked back at him over her shoulder. Her pretty brown eyes flashed with concern, so he took a step away, but then she just looked sad. 

"Everything okay?" he asked. She nodded. "Will I get to see you this week? I'd love to buy you a ginger ale at the Hard Deck. Or Chippy's."

She bit her lip before abandoning the door and wrapping her arms around his neck. She was all rough kisses on her tiptoes, and Bob was ready to turn the knob, head inside and deal with the consequences later. But she ran her tongue along his bottom lip before pulling away from him just as quickly. "I need to...I'll see you later, Bob."

In a flash, she squeezed herself in through the smallest gap imaginable, and then she gently closed her apartment door behind her. Bob stood there for a minute, his cock still half hard in his jeans as he stared at the spot where Anna had just been standing. She was giving him whiplash at this point, but maybe he sort of liked that kind of thing.

He quickly adjusted himself in his jeans before heading back downstairs and out into the cool night. He was going to have to ask Jake or Bradley how long he needed to wait before asking Anna out. They would know what to do. And he had Nat back now as well. He had enough resources that he would figure it out.

But the next day after work, they all seemed to make everything more confusing for him. 

"So did you finally fuck her then?" Bradley asked casually as he put deodorant on in the locker room.

"Well, no," Bob muttered. "We just made out for a bit."

"Kids these days," Bradley muttered, shaking his head. "Well, did you at least thank Nat? For coming to your rescue?"

Bob sighed, knowing this man was going to be no help after all. "I already talked to Nat," Bob replied as they walked out of the locker room. 

Of course Natasha was in the hallway and did a double take. "Did I just hear my name? I've been so popular since I got home yesterday." Her smile slipped into a look of excitement. "Did you fuck the redhead?"

Bob cradled his forehead in his hand. "Her name is Anna. And no, because I'm actually trying to date her."

"Why not both?" Nat asked, leading the way out to the parking lot. "Give that girl what she so desperately wants."

Bob was scared Anna was going to pull away again. He hadn't heard from her at all since last night when she disappeared into her apartment. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be texting her or not today. It was like he was living in a choose your own adventure story, but somehow none of the options were correct.

He turned right toward his truck while Bradley and Nat both turned left, but then he realized that Jake had parked next to him and was already in his own truck talking on the phone. Bob tried to sneak past, but Jake put his window down and said, "Jess wants to know what's up with you and Anna."

"Is she on the phone?" Bob asked, tossing his bag into his own truck.

"Hi!" came Jessica's voice through Jake's bluetooth. "What did you do to Anna? She was practically singing when she showed up at lunch today."

Bob immediately scrambled toward Jake's truck and stuck his head in the window. "She was?"

"Yes. And she was having a hard time paying attention. You know how she gets when her head is in the clouds."

Jake met Bob's wide eyed gaze and smiled. "You should go to her office hours," the other man drawled. "That's like a green light for fucking on her desk."

"Hey!" Jessica complained through the phone while Bob grimaced. "Jake, keep your mouth shut about it. But yes, Bob, you should go to her office hours. She'd probably really like that. It shows you're thinking about her."

Well Bob was almost never not thinking about Anna, so maybe it wasn't a bad idea. "Take her some flowers," Jake added. "Seriously, man, she'll be handing you her panties within a minute."

"Hey!" came Jessica's voice again, and this time Bob ducked into his own truck, not wanting to hear any more of that conversation.

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Monday was a bit of a blur. The first thing Anna did when she got to her office was grab her copy of Wuthering Heights from her shelf. The note she forgot to read from Bob made her smile right away.

This book made me feel like it's okay to be completely caught up in another person to the point where you forget where you are or what you're doing. Also, I'm going to think of you every time I see a dog eared page for the rest of my life.

She whimpered softly. There had been a similar, slightly more intimate note tucked inside Papillon when she checked it last night after she squeezed herself into her depressingly tiny apartment in embarrassment. She would never be able to invite Bob inside for anything. Not for a cup of tea, and not for a sleepover.

After that, Anna spent the entire night on Sunday reading her favorite poems and touching herself. Sky Writing seemed to have fallen in love, based on his new post. That idea wasn't surprising at all. Anna was convinced he was the perfect man, so it was just a matter of time. But the thing that did surprise her was the way he wrote about a certain woman with red hair. Late into the night, she was laying in her tiny bed with her fingers inside the font of her underwear, picturing Bob as she read the words to herself.

It was almost too much. Her lips were still a little bit puffy on Monday from all the making out, and she felt sated if only by her own touch. She knew Bob's beautiful hands would be so much better, and she was still thinking about them when she went to find her friends at lunchtime. 

Tuesday wasn't much better. The only damper was that she hadn't heard a single word from Bob. Nothing. She hadn't texted him either, because what was she supposed to say? Hi, I think I could fall in love with you, but I'm not allowed. Can we still make out? That would be the worst idea in the world.

"She's got her head in the clouds again."

Anna blinked a few times and realized she was sitting by the weird tree with the warm sunlight on her face. Her uneaten sandwich was in her hand, hovering halfway to her mouth, and she had been staring off into the distance. "Sorry," she muttered, finally taking a bite. Her lunch didn't even seem as sad today as she thought about Bob's hands on her thighs. 

"Can you blame her?" Jessica asked. "She kissed Bob."

"Not one bit," the other woman said with a grin, as if Anna wasn't even there. "He's a damn catch. Sweetest man ever."

Anna rolled her eyes and said, "As if you aren't married to the human equivalent of a golden retriever."

"Oh, so she is paying attention," Jessica said with a laugh. "We thought you'd blasted off for planet Bob with no return ticket."

"Your astrophysics jokes are the worst," the other woman said, and Jessica pretended to pout.

"Listen. All I know is that he's a great kisser, and that his hands fit really nicely right here," Anna said pointing to her back and her hips. Both women squealed in delight. "But I can't take things any further with him."

"Why not?" Jessica demanded. "The two of you have been playing this game since you met at the bookstore. And also since you met again at the Hard Deck."

Anna thought about Kevin and all of her money that she'd never see again. She thought about her manuscripts she'd put on hold to work three jobs. She thought about how she'd willingly given up Princeton for him.

"I don't want to drag him down to where I am," she whispered, running her finger along the condensation on her can of ginger ale. "I can't be in a relationship." That's all she wanted to say about Bob and Kevin right now, still too afraid to tell her friends everything. So she cleared her throat and asked, "What's with the cooking rivalry between Bradley and Jake? It's like an episode of Chopped." That seemed to open a very controversial can of worms, but at least the focus shifted away from her personal life.

------------------------------

Bob didn't even know what kind of flowers were the right ones to get, and once again, everyone else gave him useless information. 

"I rarely get flowers for Sugar. I usually just grab some good beers on my way to pick her up from school, and that's enough to seal the deal. Then I get to drink the beer I like while my hot wife goes dow-"

"We get the picture, Bradshaw," Jake said loudly. "Bob, just get some cheap flowers and save the money to make her dinner one night."

"Do not get her cheap flowers!" Natasha chimed in. "If the two of you weren't attractive looking," she said, pointing to Bradley and Jake, "Sugar and Jessica would have bailed before they bothered to uncover actual brain cells underneath the pretty hair." Both men looked startled before eventually nodding in agreement. "You need to get good flowers and plan to invite her for dinner. Not one or the other," Nat finished, pounding her fist into her other palm. "No wonder Bob never gets laid when I'm not around to straighten everything out."

"Can we not talk about that?" he mumbled, adjusting his glasses. "And it's not like I just want to...get laid. By just anybody."

"Yeah, yeah," Natasha said, tapping away on her phone. "You're a romantic. Go get her flowers like these ones."

Bob examined her screen when she held it up for him. He memorized the red and orange blooms the best he could, and soon they started to remind him of Anna's hair. "Got it," he told her, turning toward his truck before anyone else could tell him something that may or may not end up being useful. He'd get the flowers and then invite her over. He wasn't as good at cooking as Jake or Bradley, but he'd try anyway. He was mostly out of practice since he didn't have anyone to cook for, really, but they both offered to send him their favorite recipes. 

The florist was nice and listened to him ramble about orange and red flowers for a minute before putting together something that was even prettier than he could have imagined. The sixty dollar price tag shocked him, but it didn't stop him from also grabbing a book from the front window of the shop next door. It was a new one he'd been wanting to read himself, not quite one of the classics that Anna seemed to favor, but he figured she wouldn't have read it yet. He'd let her borrow it and dog ear all the pages up, and then he'd read it and think about her the whole time.

But when he got to the San Diego State University campus, he sat in his truck and stared at the clock on his dashboard. It was 6:32. She had office hours until 7:00, so he really needed to head in there. Doubt was creeping in now, because they left things off at a weird place. He had no idea what Anna really wanted from him, if anything. If she told him no or hesitated today, he was going to have to start sorting out his feelings for her and dismantling them bit by bit.

It was 6:47 by the time he finally made his way through the academic building on his way to Anna's office. Several people turned and looked at him in his khaki uniform with the huge bouquet of flowers in his hand, and this would have been a lot less stressful if Anna was actually his girlfriend and not a woman he thought might never be that. When he reached the hallway that smelled like freshly baked bread, he found her small office right away where it was tucked back from the main walkway. The door was ajar, and he could hear her voice, so he stood there in the hallway a little awkwardly, trying to fight the urge to run back to his truck.

The door opened another inch, and Bob could see Anna's fingers and her burgundy painted nails peeking out as her voice got louder. "Here's a copy of the extra study guide. Don't forget there's a quiz on Monday. If you can ace that, then I think you'll be in better shape for the final. And try not to be too hard on yourself, Hemingway can be a bit of a challenge for anyone."

"Thanks, Dr. Webber."

The door opened all the way, and a young man filed out with a frown on his face, and then Anna was just standing there right in front of Bob. Her hair was in a loose braid, her lips had some sort of purple-ish gloss on them, and she was wearing some snug jeans and an SDSU sweatshirt. "Bob," she breathed, and it sounded like music. Her gaze raked over his uniform and the vibrant flowers before returning to his face, brown eyes more vulnerable than he ever thought they should be.

"Hi, Anna." He couldn't think of anything better to say as she backed up a step into her small office and nodded her head once for him to join her. After two of his long strides, Bob was practically bumping into her desk. Then she closed the door and leaned against it, hands tucked behind her back.

She cleared her throat, but her voice was still soft as she said, "You look nice in your uniform."

"Thanks," he replied automatically. She could have said anything, and he would have thanked her.

"Those are beautiful. Are they for me?" she whispered, eyes falling to the flowers again.

"Of course they are."

Bob watched her eyelashes brush her cheeks as her eyes fluttered closed. "You didn't have to do that. Flowers are so expensive."

"I got you a book, too," he said, sliding it out from behind the bouquet. Her eyes snapped open so she could read the title, and he said, "It's a new release, so I was hoping you didn't preorder it or anything."

Anna's cheeks were growing pinker by the second, making her freckles look more prominent. He was about to ask if she wanted to come over for dinner one night when she launched herself across the three feet of empty space, colliding softly with his body. Bob dropped the flowers and the book onto her desk just as she kissed him, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck.

She kissed him like they did this all the time, and his hands went right to her waist where they fit perfectly. "Thank you," she murmured against his lips. "Nobody ever got me books before you."

The words before you echoed in his brain. He didn't want there to be an after. He wanted this to be the real deal where neither of them had to be in a relationship where they weren't constantly trading books back and forth with someone. 

Anna kissed him until his glasses were crooked, and she raked her fingers through his hair until he was sure it was a mess. And somehow she ended up pushing him back until he was sitting on the edge of her desk with his long legs splayed apart. He knew he was in trouble; he could feel himself slipping already. She let her hands trail down the back of his neck, over his shoulders, and down the front of his shirt. She adjusted all of his pins and touched his name tag along the way as her lips barely brushed his. Her fingers moved so slowly, he thought maybe he could get himself under control, but it was no use. He was hard in his pants, and her exploratory hands weren't stopping.

"Anna."

All that did was make her kiss him harder again.

"Please."

All that did was have her pressing the font of her jeans to his khakis with a little gasp. Maybe the guys had been right about this kind of thing after all. Maybe visiting her during office hours was all it was going to take to get to the next level. Her fingers made it all the way down to his thighs, scraping along just inches from his erection, and Bob was afraid he was going to embarrass himself. He thought about icebergs and refrigerators and the Arctic Circle, but nothing alleviated the aching heat under his skin as Anna licked his lip and almost nudged the tip of his cock.

But then she said the most devastating sentence he could think of. "Bob, I really like you. But we're just friends, okay?" Then she kissed him again like she hadn't spoken something so harsh, and he thought maybe he imagined it. "Just really good friends who make out with each other."

"Fuck," he grunted, trying to get control even as his hands kneaded the bare skin of her lower back. "Anna." He swallowed hard and pulled his mouth away from hers, examining her wide eyes. Her teeth sank into her pouty bottom lip when he said, "I was going to invite you over for dinner later this week."

"As friends?" she whispered, her hands still planted on his thighs. 

Bob nodded like an idiot, because once again, he was going to agree to anything she said right then. "Sure."

She kissed him softly and said, "Okay."

-------------------------

But is it okay? Is it really? Next up, let's see how this dinner goes. We might need Nat to fully step in and take care of business again. Also, I love Bradley and Jake in this chapter so so so much! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[callsigns-haze]

Roo and BG

@roosterforme, this series is definitely one of my favourites. It one of the best fics I've read and it took me through one of the most emotional journeys along with the characters. I absolutely love this series babe, thank you!

For the past week at work, Rooster's gaze has been fixated on you, his eyes lingering longer than usual. Now, amidst the vibrant atmosphere of the Hard Deck, you exude an allure that seems almost too perfect. However, amidst this magnetic energy, the impending departure of Bradley for deployment looms heavily. The prospect of being separated from one another is a daunting reality neither of you wishes to confront.

As the moment of farewell approaches, uncertainties cloud your minds. Plans, once solid, now seem malleable, subject to unforeseen shifts. Yet, amidst these uncertainties, there remains an unspoken understanding between you and Bradley—a bond forged in the fires of love and commitment.

As newlyweds, you both hold steadfast to your shared aspirations and dreams. However, the cruel hand of fate sometimes renders these desires seemingly unattainable. Yet, despite the challenges ahead, you find solace in each other's embrace, drawing strength from the unwavering support you offer one another.

In the face of adversity, you cling to the promise of tomorrow, fiercely determined to weather the storm together. Though the road ahead may be fraught with obstacles, you find comfort in the knowledge that as long as you have each other, you possess the resilience to overcome any obstacle that comes your way.

Emily, this is for you!

"Love out of all, did you really just spend 256 dollars on that!?" He turns around to see the massive dog toy set. "Never laugh at your wife's choices, Roo, you're one of them!"

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[valmare]

Congrats!!!! How about "You're the most gorgeous person here" with Bradley!

Oh lord, Em. I love this so damn much. Hopefully I do this justice, Rooster Queen! Enjoy your Bradley, and thanks for being a follower, love!

Kiss Me Hello

“Roo? That you, Bradley?” 

Rooster can hear the smack of the screen bouncing off the back door frame as your voice chimes through the back of the house. His eyes search for you through the house for a moment as he drops his gear at the door, reaching to scratch at the ears of the dog that nearly killed himself to beat him to the front door. 

Without warning at all, the beagle he’s attempting to greet throws himself around at the sound of your voice, tail helicoptering him down the hall as his claws scramble for purchase that isn’t there on the wooden floor.

With a baleful howl Gander disappears around the corner, in search of his momma, who’s voice lifts in that high-pitched, baby way at the sound of him. 

Rolling his eyes at the baby talk you’re giving the dog somewhere in the house, he drops to a knee to begin unlacing his boots, listening to you traverse the house looking for him.

Rooster immediately notices the boxes hanging out against the wall by the closet, new additions to the space that weren’t there this morning. Beyond the mudroom, in the hallway leading to the kitchen, there’s plastic bins marked what he thinks says KITCHEN in your familiar chicken-scratch cursive, though he’s never been able to decipher your handwriting, even after two years of hand-written honey-do lists, notes, letters, and general over-your-shoulder peeking. 

Gander is bouncing in excitement, leading you down the corridor toward the front mud room, until you’re leaning against the corner, smiling at him with bright eyes and what looks like paint stained across your forehead and nose. 

“Hiya,” you beam at him, dropping into a squat to rub the dog’s ears as Bradley is kicking off his boots, “You’re home early,” you check the clock on the phone that’s hanging out in your back pocket before slipping it in the top of your bra, standing to intercept his hug hello. “It’s only 3. Mav cut you loose for the weekend?” 

Your arms are snug around the back of his neck and you draw up on your toes as he wraps his around your waist, dragging you closer against him until your hips are flush with his.

The corner of his mouth ticks up in a small smile as he takes in your appearance—contacts today, probably in favor of the sunglasses perched in your hair, and this close he can tell you’re wearing that tinted moisturizer stuff you really like. It’s doing a terrible job of hiding the slight sunburn on your nose. 

You’re not wearing a stitch of any other makeup, which is a little unusual for you. You usually always have mascara or at least some kind of glossy balm or some shit on your lips. Bradley suddenly wishes he’d been home all day, like he does every day, with you to see what you’ve been up to—he’s infinitely curious about the paint on your face, and lifts a hand to thumb the smear on your forehead. 

It’s actually spackle. Like, wall spackle. There’s a blip of disappointment that hits his radar, knowing that you’ve actually gone ahead and spackled holes in the spare bedroom without him. It lasts seconds, maybe, before you reach up to kiss the corner of his mouth in that sweet, sloppy way. 

He’d wanted to help you with this. It’s one of the projects you’d been hoping to complete before the two of you actually  finished the moving process—the room was going to be your in-home office, and the excitement you’ve been exuding about finally having it finished had only been a topic of discussion and pride since you’d purchased the house. 

Disappointment is replaced nearly immediately when he realizes that he’s married probably the best woman on the planet. You’ve always been that girl that doesn’t need him, but wants him. Allows him into your world.

Ever since the first date he’d known you were capable of standing on your own two feet with that screwed-on-straight head of yours, boldly independent and determined. 

Bradley remembered your second date. He’d probably remember it even in his old, forgetful age, because the humiliation would probably haunt him at least that long. He’d taken you to the South Bay Drive In, thinking it would be a cute second date, after dinner and a walk.

The Bronco had never given him so much trouble until that morning, but he’d figured it was just a fluke and had tossed some coolant in the radiator. No big deal, he’d have his guy check it out later. Thankfully he’d parked no problem, and the two of you had enjoyed the movie, or, what glimpses of it you’d actually managed to watch between talking and swapping life stories. 

Rooster had been so enthralled with the animated way you talked with your hands, the expressions on your face, how your tone deepened and lifted when you imitated other people that he couldn’t even remember the movie looking back.

He’d just sat, parked in the driver’s seat, head plunked in his hand, listening to you. Then and there he’d known he could listen to you talk forever and die a happy man. Really, Bradley was sure that date was the date that he’d known he was a goner—you’d stolen his heart in the front seat of his dad’s precious truck, wearing jeans and tank top with your hair pulled up in a cute little bandanna and earrings. He couldn’t think of anywhere better to realize he was in love with you. 

Fifteen minutes before he was supposed to take you home he’d started the Bronco, and you’d excused yourself to the restroom before leaving. Idling, thinking you were the hottest thing he’s ever seen, he hadn’t even noticed the temp gauge steadily tick up. It was only when the needle was pegged over 230 and the front of the Bronco was smoking that he realized the damn thing was overheated. 

Scrambling to open the hood, you’d arrived just seconds before he was ready to pop the radiator cap. Smacking his hand away violently, you’d screeched “Bradley, no!” like some kind of pterodactyl or shit, hip-checking him aside to stand in front of the motor, hands on the frame of the front fascia as you checked things over. Hands up in surrender, he’d asked you what the big deal was. 

“If you’re trying to ruin that pretty face of yours with an explosion of hot coolant, you were close,” you’d said with that little accent of yours that he’d come to absolutely love, “I like the scars you’ve already got, Roo—just don’t add to the collection if you can help it, mkay?” You’d turned, ran your thumb over the faded trace of a pink line on his chin, and winked. 

Within a few minutes of bending over the motor delicately, not to get your clothes dirty, you’d determined that one of the coolant lines had completely disintegrated, coolant seeping through the twists and bends of the motor to the parking lot beneath. He was flabbergasted, in awe of you, and so damned turn on that he’d been sure you’d notice the semi aching between his legs.  

You hadn’t. You were too good for that, way too sweet to say anything even if you had. Flattening your lips, you’d closed the hood with a sigh, slipping your hands into the front pocket of your jeans as your shoulders lifted, almost sheepishly. He’d asked you if there was any other damage, guessing you knew what you were doing—he didn’t, he wasn’t really a grease monkey to any extent. 

He liked to think he was a wrencher, but you’d made quick work of that assumption. 

“The old girl needs some coolant lines, but she’s definitely not hot enough to cause any damage. You’re lucky. The engine looks pretty nice, for a Ford.” He’d had the thought to be insulted by the proposed argument you’d baited him with, but your slow smile and another wink had just unraveled him instead, sending the hot blood pumping through his veins straight between his legs. 

He’d called Jake, and Hangman had picked you both up at the drive in, in his Ram. That had perked you up.

You’d chatted animatedly about the pickup the entire ride back to your car, which they’d left at the pier, Bradley only a slight shade of green at the way Jake flowed in and out of the conversation about cars so easily. 

Hangman had helped him pick up his rig the next day, chuckling as he’d clapped a thick hand on his  his shoulder seconds before Bradley dipped beneath the car to hook up tow cables, “Quite the honey you’ve got yourself there, Rooster. I like her. A lot.” 

“And that matters because….?” 

“Because, since I’ve known ya, you’ve got the same taste in women as you do cars—shitty.” His eye-roll had split the man’s face into that dazzling, shit-eating grin of his, “But she—shit, Bradshaw, she’s a keeper.” He’d whistled between the break in words, head slowly shaking. “You lose that one and it’s fair game for the rest of us, bud.” 

The mere idea of Hangman even insinuating going after you had him nearly vibrating. But the entire scenario had him reeling between embarrassment and pride.

He can laugh about all of  it, now, because there’s no way you’d be leaving him any time soon for Hangman, but—there’s still that knife of embarrassment that digs into the mesh of his ribs. A wiggle of apprehension in his brain that he’s the lucky one. Doesn’t deserve you, because you’re fucking amazing. That you’re too good for him, always have been, and someday will wake up and remember that.

Warmth from your body against him spreads through his blood, and Rooster tightens the arm around your waist. You’re leaning against him a little harder now, fingers from your one hand playing with the curls at the base of his neck. Tension from the day in the air, from the memory of Seresin nearly promising to steal you, begins to bleed from his shoulders. 

“Keepin’ busy, baby?” His eyes cut to the white paste on his thumb  and yours follow, and he flexes his thumb to emphasize the point, “Something you want to tell me?” Bradley isn’t actually concerned with what you’ve been doing all day by yourself—the playfulness in his tone matches the curious lift of his brow, and it’s making you smile that wondrous smile that levels him every time you share it. 

Color suddenly flares to life on your cheeks and you look away, to your chest snugged up against his. “I’m a mess, aren’t I?” You lift a hand to smooth the curls hanging out in a top knot, which he doesn’t understand, because your hair, like always, looks perfect–even if it’s that effortless, messy perfect. 

You seem to remember you’ve been painting and spackling, and that he’s wearing his flight suit, because you nearly jump  back from him, checking down the front of yourself, an arm leaving its embrace around his neck to swipe down the front of your shirt.

Eyes cutting up to consider the front of his uniform, your blush and the way you gasp is nearly frantic. 

“Bradley! Your flight suit!” You hiss under your breath, moving to brush your hand over his chest, where absolutely nothing has disturbed the decorum stitched into the damn thing. He’ll never convince you it’s fine—you take more pride in his clean flight suit than the damn Navy or any CO he’s ever seen.

“Damnit, I didn’t even think—” 

He’s laughing at you, “Baby, it’s fine—” 

“It isn’t fine!” You protest, your remaining arm around his neck falling away as you pick at the dried spackle and paint staining your shorts and bare legs. Your eyes track to him, head popping up before you wave your finger over the length of his body, “Here. Strip it off, I’ll put it with the stuff to take back to the apartment. I’ll wash it tonight and you can take it Monday.” 

That sounds like more work than necessary—laundry in your apartment is on the first floor, and you’re on the third floor, which means you’ve been hiking laundry back and forth the four years you’ve lived in the damn place. He has other suits on base, in his flight locker, and he can launder them himself—he’s been doing it since before you came into his life. Kind of a pro at it, really. 

But, since being married, you’d become nearly obsessive about the basic duties of domesticity—you cooked for him. Cleaned the apartment, even though he’d been living out of a duffle since moving in, waiting for your lease to expire. You did the laundry. He’d had to fight you to take over the bills and finances, otherwise you’d do that too. 

Rooster hadn’t ever had a wife before, but he was sure that sharing last names didn’t make you his live-in maid. He would’ve been ecstatic if all you’d done is cook. Not that he was ungrateful, having someone who cared and cleaned his house was nice, but—it wasn’t expected. He was as capable of cleaning the bathroom as the next guy. Actually he enjoyed cleaning, he was a neat freak. 

When he’d failed to do as instructed, you stepped up to reach for the zipper on his suit. “Rooster, I said—” He grabs your wrist, halting the action. You blink at his hand around your wrist.

“Bradley, c’mon—”

“I know what you said,” he challenged softly, eyes firmly holding you as the corner of his mouth lifted in a small, knowing smile. “Can you quit being Betty Crocker for two-point-five seconds and kiss me hello, or will that disturb the cosmic balance or somethin’?” 

Blinking in surprise, you register the words for a heartbeat before more color spreads across your nose. The little blue ring around your eyes sparkles in the light strobing through the windows of the front door, creating the dark pools of life he remembers. You’ve always had gorgeous eyes.

You break out into a little giggle, rolling your eyes before he tugs at your arm, shuffling you the few steps it takes before you’re pressing your chest up against his again, hand on his pecs as his settle in around your waist again. 

Your lids drop to a lusty half mast, head tipping back slightly in a way that says you’re ready for him to kiss you. “Hi, Rooster,” you greet him with a soft coo, a little chuckle in the back of the words that spreads fire through his ribcage. 

“And?” His brow pops up, expectantly. You know what’s missing from the greeting. 

You smile. “I’m glad you’re home. Happy Friday.” Nose scrunching up adorably, your tongue peeks out between your lips, teasingly. 

The running tradition of wishing him a “Happy Friday” when he leaves for work, be it through  phone call, text message, or your infamous sticky-notes in his duffle bag, has been going on since the two of you were dating. You conclude the workday with a “Happy Friday” when he’s dismissed for the day and off work, whether he’s seeing you or staying on base.

He loves it, and is pretty sure he can’t live without it. Like air, he craves everything you say. 

He angles his head and leans forward to kiss you, softly at first, gently sucking at your bottom lip. The sigh you elicit is deep as you fold against his chest, your hands slowly dragging up his neck to play with his hair.  Your tongue darts between his lips, playing at his front teeth in that subtle little way of yours that tells him you want to be Frenched, and he obliges, the gasp in the back of your throat bleeding into a moan that shoots straight to his cock. 

Your nails are tugging at his scalp delightfully when you break the kiss, head tipping back to chuckle at the ceiling. Rooster’s half thinking about lathing his tongue across your clavicle, suckling at the hollow of your throat when you hum pleasurably, hand smoothing over his cheek. 

Righting your head, you feel for the sunglasses on top of your head, and once you confirm they are present and accounted for, you reach to swipe the pad of your stained thumb over his mustache.

You’re looking at his lips again in that way, but his gut releases a growl that snaps your attention downward, and you’re laughing and pushing him back with a shove before he can reach for you again. 

“Hungry much, Roo?” He was. He’d skipped lunch.

“Let’s get out of here for dinner,” he decides, checking his watch. “I’m starving.” 

It's early for dinner, and if you leave now, there's plenty of time for that thing he's been trying to convince you to do all day.

The look on your face is horrific, like he’d just walked over your grave. Something in your jaw twitches, and the color on your cheeks deepens even more, if possible. Standing there, unmoving, your eyes drop to consider yourself again, and you laugh genuinely, shoulders shaking before you shake your head, no. 

“We’re not going out—look at me! I am covered in plaster, paint, and God knows what else!” Your hands flow over your body, gesturing to the current state of yourself, “And not only that, my hair isn’t washed and I—”

You freeze at the look he’s giving you, like a predator seeking prey; like he’s got you on target lock. 

His eyes zero in on you backtracking out of the entryway, and he moves to intercept you on quick feet. You're shrieking with laughter as he attacks you in a hug from behind, arm snagging around your waist to draw you back against his chest. Bradley’s burying his lips against the crook of your neck, and knows it’s a sensitive spot—you erupt in laughter, squirming against the mustache tickling the soft skin behind your ear.  

“You’re the most gorgeous person here, baby, and we’re going out to supper,” he enunciates the order with peppered kisses up your neck and along your jaw, gently swaying you back and forth on his feet. You’re curled against his chest, giggling, hand reaching up to play with his hair again. “Get your shit. Let’s go.” 

He halfheartedly releases you to do just that. Stripping off the flight suit that stinks like jet fuel and sweat and the stale air of his cockpit, he watches  you snatch your purse from the island counter, looking around the floor until you spot the absolutely offensive Crocs you’ve discarded by the fridge.

Why you love those damn things he’ll never know, but you do. And, he can’t help but think you look like a million bucks as you call for Gander to follow you. He’s already clipping on  the leash and slipping on his work boots that have been living by the door. 

You stop to check yourself in the mirror you must’ve hung in the entry sometime this week.

He drapes his arm around your shoulders, drawing you close to press a firm kiss against your cheek while chuckling. Rooster pulls the door closed behind him with the toe of his boot as he hands you the keys to the Bronco that have been looped around his fingers. 

Slipping the aviators low on his nose, you match the action with your own as he guides you to the truck, your arm through his. Helping you into the passenger side, he swats the door closed and leans through the open window, reaching for a curl that’s fallen from your messy updo. 

There’s spackle dried around the curl and you brush his hand down, rolling your eyes. “It’s gonna take forever to get this shit out of my hair,” you whine.

A devious smile splits his lips. “I think we’ll manage,” he winks over the dark lenses as you sit back in the seat, offering him a smirk. “If you even remember it’s there by the time I’m done fucking you senseless, sweetheart.” 

You snort, loudly laughing at the ridiculous attempt at an innuendo.

“Get your ass in the truck, Bradshaw.” 

#100 followers celebration #100 followers #blurb requests #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #controlled chaos squad #call sign meerkat #answered asks #i love chickens #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw imagine #roosterforme

[thedroneranger]

Talk You Out of It

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Précis: A last-minute change of plans has you all dressed up with no where to go.

Note: One of two entires for @roosterforme’s #love is in the air tgm love song playlist challenge! This fic is inspired by Florida Georgie Line's Talk You Out Of It. Happy Valentine's Day, ya filthy animals! 🖤

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit.

Word count: 3.0k

A deep sigh left your lips as you sunk into the car seat. The silence was interrupted by a ping. Fumbling around, you pulled out your phone. The screen illuminated with a message from Jake.

I got a bottle at your favorite place, waiting for us in a bucket on ice. Be ready for 7 p.m. Wear something nice.

You grumbled, learning that Jake had planned something that required you to get dressed and go back out. Normally, you loved getting dolled up and going out. Especially with Jake. The two of you made a great-looking pair. It was hard not to notice the double takes and whispers. It reminded you that either of you could have anyone but chose each other.

However, the first week at your new job was a grind. Going home to cuddle on the couch with Jake while you drank wine, ate takeout and watched a rom-com sounded ideal. Since that was not in the plans, you spent the drive hyping yourself to shower and get dressed to be ready when Jake got back so you could make your reservation.

The shower was a welcome reset. Putting on your upbeat shower playlist was energizing. Once you were refreshed, swathed in a towel, you padded to the study to steal a large pour of Jake’s favorite whiskey. 

Your back was to most of the room as you found a glass and selected the right bottle. You nearly jumped through the roof when you heard Jake’s voice. Collecting yourself and leveling your breath, you turned to face your husband.

Jake was sitting in his chair, legs splayed with his own glass resting on the chair arm. “What’re you doing, darlin’?” He was a sight for sore eyes. Almost ready for the evening, his shirt had a few buttons undone and his tie was slung around his neck ready for you to fasten—one of your date night rituals.

“I’m torn between a few outfits, so I figured a little liquid courage would help.” You held the glass up. His signature smile appeared, and you could feel the serotonin fire in your brain. 

“Take your time, darlin’. I’ll be right here.” He put his glass to his lips and watched as you returned to the bedroom. Before you headed to the closet, you queued a sexier playlist. 

Hearing the change in music, Jake smiled and hummed along while he enjoyed his whiskey. 

Standing in the mirror, you held dresses in front of you, switching back and forth for an hour. With each garment, you visualized your hair and makeup. Finally, a strappy silk midi with a thigh-high slit spoke to you. “That’s it,” you said aloud, affirming your choice. Once you had the dress, you were ready in no time. 

One last look in the full-length mirror, you went back to the study. “Ok.” Your eyes met Jake’s and his mouth was agape. “Is…everything ok?” You stood, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, waiting for him to respond.

He walked toward you, shamelessly looking you up and down. “You look like a grown man’s dream,” he stated. Heat rushed to your cheeks. Jake's compliments always made you blush. 

“Thank you.” You reached for his shirt as he approached, fastening the last couple buttons, and then knotting and adjusting his tie. Your palms slid to rest on his chest. His hands floated to your waist and pulled you so your bodies touched. 

The low back on your dress allowed his fingers to skim along your bare spine. The sensation gave you goosebumps and had you biting your lower lip. 

One of Jake’s eyebrows quirked as he held your gaze. “What if we stay in?” Now your mouth was agape. Was he serious? You didn’t believe what you heard.  

Jake broke away from you to head to the bar to pour fresh glasses of whiskey. “It’s chilly out—why leave when we’re so toasty?” He came back and placed a glass on your upturned palm. 

You watched as he sauntered back to his oversized leather chair. Your gazes stayed locked as he settled in. “Plus, it’ll probably be loud. I won’t be able to hear you tell me about your first week.” With his free hand, he patted his thigh. 

Suddenly, it all clicked. You laughed—a sound Jake loved. “Definitely wouldn’t have heard that.” He smirked and settled more into his chair, splaying his legs wider, further extending his invitation.

The look in your eyes told Jake his plea was successful. That smile you fell in love with graced his face as you slid onto his lap. 

One hand around his shoulders, his arm around your hips, you both sipped your drinks. After a few minutes, you looked at each other as you reached across him to set your drink on the table. Then you draped your other arm around his neck, nails skimming the buzzed hairs on the back of it. He practically purred. 

“Tell me about your week,” he requested as he pressed kisses to the exposed parts of your chest. Your answer came in the form of shallow breaths and soft moans. 

Jake’s fingers skimmed your thin dress straps off your shoulders. You pulled your arms through, letting them drop to your sides. Following the swells of your breasts, his fingers slid the fabric down, leaving just your nipples covered. 

He kept eye contact with you as his broad tongue trailed up the valley between your breasts. In turn, your hand anchored itself in his locks and pulled him up until his lips were teasing your neck. “It’s amazing how few words it’s taking you to talk me out of this dress,” you said between sharp breaths. 

“You shouldn’t have picked it if you wanted to go out,” he retorted as you separated to shift positions. Hitching up your dress, you tucked your knees on either side of Jake’s hips while you unfastened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. 

“Maybe I didn’t want to go out…” you trailed off. Jake’s eyebrows rose in surprise as you continued to undress him. You shrugged. “Looks a little different than I envisioned, but it’s going to end with us cuddling, so it’s a win in my book.” It was Jake’s turn to laugh—a sound you loved.

Jake was patient. He watched as you undid each button on his shirt and pulled the tails from his waistband. You even popped off his cufflinks and unbuttoned his sleeves. He leaned forward, allowing you to push the shirt off his shoulders. You guided the fabric as he pulled his arms out of the sleeves. 

Once the shirt lay neatly over the chair arm, he grabbed the bunches of dress fabric around your thighs and flipped it over your head. He soaked you in. “No undergarments?” His grin rivaled the Cheshire cat.

Your shoulders floated toward your ears as you looped your arms around his neck, holding your own wrist. “I didn’t want lines. That fabric shows everything.” His mind flashed back to your nipples barely hidden behind it just moments ago.

His blunt fingertips hungrily dug into the meat of your thighs. His thumbs pressed into the creases where your hips hinged. “What was it you had in mind since we’re staying in?” He looked up at you and he slowly pressed kisses to your arm headed toward your chest.

“Well, this is much different than I had imagined,” you began. He hummed, showing his attentiveness. “I envisioned us snuggled up on the couch, sipping wine and watching a movie…”

Jake’s head jerked up. “Oh, darlin’, we can absolutely watch a movie. Something inspirational…” he trailed off, leaving you to wonder what he had in mind. While he commanded your home assistant, you shimmied into his too-big-for-you shirt, leaving it open.

Unceremoniously, Jake stood, forcing you off his lap. You huffed but lost the attitude as he led you to the couch. He dropped his pants, leaving him in just his black boxer briefs, before settling into the couch. Jake left his legs wide enough for you to sit between, so you obliged him, pressing your back to his chest. He nosed the shell of your ear as he pressed a couple kisses to the top of your jaw. 

The screen slid from the ceiling pocket and the projector came to life. You waited as Jake’s camera roll appeared. Your eyes widened as his hidden album popped up and your face appeared in several of the thumbnails.

He tapped one you knew was his favorite. “Let’s watch this. Maybe we can reenact it. Hmmm?” A little gasp escaped your lips as Jake’s hand slid between your legs, his middle and ring fingers curling into you. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he added, pumping slowly.

You watched the screen, your brain taking you back to the day the video was recorded. You moved soundlessly across the screen. Jake loved giving voice over and didn’t want to miss a single sound in real-time. 

On screen, Jake’s thumb was pulling on the straps of your thong, letting them snap against you. Then he was palming your ass, swatting it once in a while. The entire time your head bobbed in and out of frame. Occasionally stopping to look at Jake through the camera lens.

“This one I like to watch when I’m on the carrier. In bed, imagining your lips wrapped around my cock instead of my hand.” 

Your lip rolled between your teeth as you pressed harder against Jake. His thumb drew figure eights and frenzied circles on your swollen clit. The calloused pads of his fingers kept hitting that spongy spot, making your breath hitch each time. 

“Do you enjoy watching yourself?” Jake asked as he kissed your shoulder. Afraid to verbally answer because it might push you over the edge, you nodded slowly. “Use your words, darlin’.”

“Yes.” Your answer was breathy. A tell-tale sign you were close. 

“How about a little audio to add to the experience.” Jake bumped up the volume to a soft decibel. 

The recorded version of you throating Jake made you feel warm all over. You rolled your hips into Jake’s hand at a similar cadence to the sounds on screen. All while Jake sang praises into your ear. 

Thanks to Jake’s coaxing, you reached climax at the same time as Video Jake. “Fuck, yes,” Jake hissed, still stimulating your G spot as you contracted around his fingers. You grabbed his wrist to push him away because the sensation had you seeing stars, but he refused to pull back. “Color?” His voice was gruff. 

“Green,” you whined. He kissed your shoulder again and kept his fingers deep inside you as you began to wind down. As Jake removed his fingers from you, you caught his palm and guided the digits to your lips. 

First, you kissed them and then pressed your tongue against the palm side, licking from the base to tips. You pushed his slickened fingers past your lips, swirling your tongue around them as they entered your mouth. 

Jake watched you, his pupils nearly eclipsing his irises. His cock twitched against your back, which had you pressing further into him. He groaned and pushed toward you. His free hand came up to cup your neck just under your jaw. 

You hummed as he applied light pressure to the sides. Your body rocked to the same rhythm as his fingers going in and out of your mouth. Eventually, you released them with a popping sound.

Softly, you removed Jake’s hand from your neck and slipped off the couch, twisting so you were facing him on your knees between his. Looking up at him through your lashes, you hooked your fingers behind his knees to bring him closer to the edge of the sofa. 

Standing to your fullest height on your knees, you palmed Jake through his underwear. He was hard as a rock. At the same time, you pushed your lips to his. He kept you close with a hand at the base of your skull. Hungrily, his tongue played with yours. 

While he dominated your kiss, your hand dipped past his waistband. Your thumb swiped the precum from his angry tip and rubbed it along his length. He growled into your kiss, enjoying the sensation. Involuntarily, he kept shifting his body toward you for more contact. 

Finally, you broke the kiss to focus on his throbbing cock. “I think we should make a sequel.” He twitched in your hand, which made you smile. “You could use some new content.” You winked as you settled lower to the floor and pulled his underwear off as he lifted his hips.

Thankfully, Jake’s phone was just a couch cushion away. He snagged it, opening the camera and framing you how he wanted. He gave a slight nod as he hit record. 

Jake held his breath, anticipating the first touch of your lips. Instead, your tongue poked out and swiped his head. He nearly jumped off the couch—it was such a subtle start. You smiled at the lens, twisting your hand along his shaft. 

Resting your thumb on his frenulum, you took the tip in your mouth. Then your hand slid further down, allowing more of him into your mouth. Soon, he was hitting the back of your throat. You could feel tears forming in your waterlines and spit gathering at the corners of your mouth.

Popping Jake out of your mouth, you took a deep breath, continuing to glide your hand along his length, using your thumb for extra pressure on the underside. You moved him so you had better access to his balls, pressing a kiss to each before taking one in your mouth. You felt Jake’s breath stutter as you whirled your tongue around it, before trading it for the other. You repeated the action a few times until you felt him contract.  

Not ready for him to finish, you sat back up and returned to bobbing up and down on his shaft. Each time your nose touched his pelvis, you let your tongue lay flat against his ballsack.

Pulling Jake out and running his tip along the outline of your lips, you looked at him through the camera lens. “Are you cumming on my face?” You punctuated your question with a kiss to his tip. You gently squeezed his head with your teeth when he was slow to answer.

“G’yes,” he hissed, struggling to keep it together. 

Expertly, you eased him back into your mouth, taking him all the way to hilt. Then, you slowly pulled him back out, hollowing your cheeks and zigzagging your tongue along his underside. Jake’s low, guttural “fuck” was music to your ears as you felt him begin to convulse. 

Keeping pressure on his underside, you massaged him and closed your eyes, waiting. Finally, warm streams patterned your face. You feel them on your brow, eyelids, cheeks and nose. As you felt cum drip into the crease of your lips, you parted them so it seeped between. You swiped your tongue along the inside edge, catching the salty nectar. 

“Not so fast, darlin’.” Jake’s drawl was more prominent than usual. His fingertips gingerly pressed into your jaw. He tilted your head and ran his tongue along the viscous ropes marking your face. Gently, he licked your eyelids, allowing you to open your eyes. You were met with his brooding eyes and glossy lips. There was the smallest drop of cum at the corner of his mouth.

Your knees still butterflied on the floor, Jake loomed over you, perched on the couch edge. You opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue, as Jake softly guided your head back. Together, you watched as he let his mixed fluids drip into your mouth. They pooled on the flat of your broad tongue before rolling down your throat. 

Jake’s hand slid from your jaw to the front of your throat as his mouth closed over yours, enjoying the taste of your mixed saliva and his cum. He moaned into your mouth, and pushed you over until he was straddling you on the floor.

Arms thrown over your head, hair strewn everywhere, puffy lips and his shirt haphazardly covering parts of you, you were the hottest thing Jake had ever seen. Quickly, he jumped up to grab his phone. “Smile for me, darlin’.”

A genuine smile washed over your features as you tried to roll over and cover yourself. “Don’t get shy on me now!” Jake dropped back to his knees, again straddling you as you laid on your back underneath him.

He watched you through the phone screen until you stilled and looked at him with the sweetest smile. He ditched his phone and settled so his body covered yours, a knee between your legs, as he held himself up on his forearms, hovering so you were face to face. “Glad we stayed in?” you asked, looking between and trailing your finger along his diastasis. 

“Very glad,” he responded. You glanced back up to find him staring at you. “Let’s get cleaned up,” he added, giving you a peck on the lips before he pushed himself to his feet. On the way up, he snagged your hand to pull you up. While you stood in front of him, he pulled his shirt closed around your body and then pulled you against his chest. He kissed the top of your head as his hands wrapped around you and came to rest on your backside.

You popped your head up to look at him. He looked down at you, waiting. “After we shower, let’s lay in bed and watch our sequel.” His signature grin appeared, waiting for you to continue. “We might have to do reshoots.”

“Fuck, I love you,” he laughed, engulfing you in a tight hug. You looped your arms around his neck and hopped so he could catch your legs as they locked around his waist. You gave him another searing kiss as he carried you to your ensuite bathroom. 

“Maybe we should film while we’re in the shower?” he suggested. 

“The talent needs some rest between feature length films,” you replied.

“I’ll show you feature length.” He buried his face in your neck, and you squealed as he kicked the bedroom door shut.

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[cherrycola27]

Desire

Warnings: Drinking, cursing, Smut 18+

It shouldn't be this hard to fuck your husband. I mean, for crying out loud, you and Rooster were the only married couple in the Dagger friend group. Sure, Phoenix and Hangman were engaged. Bob had his girlfriend that he brought with him, and Maverick and Penny were, well— Maverick and Penny.

But you were the only married couple, and it seemed like this month, the universe had been conspiring to keep you from getting laid.

First, you had the flu and didn't want Rooster anywhere near you. Then your period came early. And not that you were opposed to period sex. You definitely weren't. You just weren't feeling it. And then Rooster had to spend a week in Lemoore demonstrating some new tech, and now that he was finally home, the two of you were like dogs in heat.

That was until Jake had called him a few hours ago to remind him about Javy's birthday celebration at the Hard Deck.

So here you were, leaning up against the wall, watching your husband play pool with the boys.

God he looked so fucking good in the new Hawiian shirt you had gotten him. The sleeves were fitted just enough to strain against his biceps when he flexed them to line up his shot. And you're sure that he wore those light washed blue jeans just to fuck with you, because boy did they make his ass look good.

It wasn't fair that he was walking around like sex on legs, and you couldn't do anything about it.

Or could you?

You smirked wickedly behind your drink as you met Rooster's eyes across the pool table. You definitely weren't trying to distract him from his game. It was a total coincidence that you just happened to lean forward and squeeze your chest together at the exact moment he took his shot.

And you definitely didn't mean to graze his ass when you walked behind him the next time was bent over the pool table.

And you just had to squeeze past him and brush your ass against his crotch so you could do a tequila shot with Phoenix.

You tipped your head back and let the clear liquid burn its way down your throat. You bit the lime, and you couldn't help that a stray drop of juice from it ran down your face along your neck.

All of those events were just— happy accidents.

Rooster's grip on the pool cue tightened. He knew what you were doing. He was doing his best not to let you win. Trying to focus on anything but you and the little game you were playing.

He took a breath and tried to drown out your laughter by listening to the music coming from the jukebox. However, U2 singing about a fever getting higher and desire growing wasn't helping his situation.

You and Phoenix dancing on each other while the song blasted through the speakers also didn't help.

Thankfully it was no longer his turn at the pool game, so he could take a seat for a minute and try to discreetly readjust the semi he was sporting. Normally he wouldn't be this turned on by your little stunts, but it had been almost a month since he had fucked you, and it was starting to get to him.

You noticed he had sat down, so you took the opportunity to waltz over and plant yourself in his lap. You gave him a sweet smile as you wiggled your ass against his cock, all in the name of getting comfortable.

His hands harshly grabbed your hips to still your movements as he let out a hiss. He gave you a stern glance before whispering in your ear.

"Sweetheart, if you don't stop teasing me right now, I'm going to take you to the bathroom and bend you over my knee." He warned.

"Is that a promise?" You asked with another wiggle of your rear.

"Honey. I mean it, be a good girl and cut it out." He growled in your ear before giving your hips a squeeze.

You turned and looked him dead in the eyes before saying, "Make me."

Rooster was stunned at your words. He pulled back and looked at your face. You sat there still smiling at him with big, innocent doe eyes. To those around you, it looked like the two of you were having a sweet exchange, but it was much more wicked than that.

You gave him a peck on the lips before hopping off his lap and walking towards the bathroom. Before opening the door, you turned back and shot Rooster a wink before gesturing to your phone and shutting the door.

Rooster quickly checked his phone and noticed the new text from you, telling him to meet you in the bathroom in five minutes.

He watched the time slowly tick by on his phone before finally excusing himself from the group. He sped to the bathroom, ignoring the calls of Hangman and the others asking him to come back.

He can vaugly hear Bob saying something about not waiting on him, but he doesn't really care at this point.

No, he's on a mission to fuck you... pool game be damned.

He pushes his way through the door and locks it before turning to look at you. You're perched up on the counter, leaning back on your hands.

"Took you long enough," you say as he makes his way over to you and harshly kisses you.

His hands are all over your body. He tugs down your tank top and pulls your bra cups down in one swift motion. He attaches his lips to one of your perky nipples and swirls his fingers around the other one.

Your hands fly to his hair as you try to hold him closer to you.

Normally, Rooster would take his time with you. Build you up to the edge over and over again until you were a babbling, crying mess. But he knew the two of you were on borrowed time, and you didn't have long before someone came looking for you.

"C'mon baby, we don't have much time before people start wondering what we are doing. My pussy is aching to have your cock inside it." You moan against his ear, trying to urge him on

"You don't think my cock is aching to be inside you? I haven't had you in almost four weeks, woman." He growls back, jerking your hips forward on the counter to pull you flush against him.

"Not my fault you've been in Lemoore the past week." You tease back, nipping at his ear lobe.

"Don't fucking remind me about Lemoore. I was so wound up I had to jerk off in the barracks like a fucking horny teenager." He groaned while reaching for the button of your jeans.

"Watched some of those videos I have of you on my phone. Was nice, but not nearly as good as the real thing." He moaned while pulling your pants and panties down in one swift motion.

"Oh, baby," you moan as his fingers skimmed along your soaked folds. "Which ones did you watch? The ones where I'm choking on your cock?" You hummed against him. He grunted in response. "Or what about the ones where I'm finger fucking myself? Was it one of those?" You ask him. He doesn't respond. Instead, he sinks to the floor in front of you. His breath is hot against your core as he speaks.

"No, I watched my personal favorite. The one we made in front of the mirror. Love seeing my girl so cock drunk and fucked out while she's taking me so well. You're like my own personal pornstar in that one baby." He tells you before burying his face in your heat.

He pulls one of your thighs over his shoulder to give him more access. His tongue laps against you in fast, hard strokes. It doesn't take long before you feel your release build in your belly.

"Oh fuck, Rooster! Feels so good!" You cry out as you grind your pussy against his face, trying to get some more friction.

Rooster slips two fingers into your weeping cunt, burying them past the knuckles and crooking them just the way he knows you like. He finds that wonderful spongy spot inside you and curls his fingers over it, over and over again.

You throw your head back unable to contain the moan that leaves your mouth. You really were going to try and be quiet, but it was no use. They way his hands and mouth were working you, you wanted everyone to know how good he made you feel.

"Right there, baby, please don't stop!" You cried out, and he sped up his fingers while his tongue drew figure eights on your clit. You gripped his shoulder to ground yourself, red nails digging into him as your climax washed over you.

Rooster rose up, your release glistening all over his face. He wiped it with the back of his hand before licking his fingers clean.

"Nothing line having my favorite meal after going so long without it." He tells you. You roll your eyes at him.

Rooster doesn't give you time to respond before he pulls you off the counter, spins you around, and jerks your pants down to your ankles before pushing you down against the counter.

He slots his thigh between yours and kicks your legs further apart.

He pushes into you in one fluid motion. He gives you a few moments to adjust to the feeling of him being inside you. You'd think you'd be used to him by now, but even now after a year of marriage and years of being together, you still need some time to adjust to his size, because he's just so damn big.

Once you've settled down, you rock your hips back against him, signaling for him to move.

He starts out slow, building a rhythm. His fingers flex against your hips, pulling you flush against him with each snap of his hips. He wants, no, needs to be deeper inside you. He has the overwhelming urge to fill you, consume you, possess you. He wants to fuck you dumb, push every thought out of your brain, until all you know is him.

The sounds that are coming from you are lewd. If you had half a brain about you right now, maybe you would be embarrassed. But all that's on your mind is a carnal desire to be fucked senseless by your husband.

Your skin is flush. You feel like a candle that's been lit and left alone, burning out of control. Each thrust of his hips, each drag of his cock through your folds, each filthy thing he whispers in your ear only fans that flame that's burning in you.

Rooster hips are relentless against yours as he continues to pound into you. You're trying so hard to stay quiet, but it's damn near. Impossible.

"Come on baby, let them hear you. I want everyone to know how good I make you feel." He moans in your ear. You can't contain the groan that comes from deep inside you.

You lull your head back against Rooster's shoulder as the arm he has wrapped around your torso pulls your tighter against him.

You're so close, and he knows it. Rooster probably knows your body better than you do. He feels your walls flutter around him. Gripping him, not wanting to let him go.

He grabs your chin and forces you to look at yourself in the mirror. He wants you to watch yourself fall apart.

"Look at you, honey. So beautiful. So fucked out. I want you to watch. Want you to see what I see. Want you to see how fucking gorgeous you look when you cum all over my cock." Rooster whispers hotly in your ear.

He holds your face there as his hips repeatedly snap into yours.

The hand around your middle moves so he can draw tight circles on your overly sensitive clit.

Without him supporting you, you lean forward, searching for something to grab onto. Your hand lands on the handle of the sink faucet.

You grip onto it for dear life. Your eyes never leaving the mirror.

This is truly the most erotic thing you've ever done. Your breast bounce with each thrust of his hips. You can see the fucked out expression all over your face. Your cheeks are flushed, your mouth hangs open in an O shape.

You lock eyes with Rooster in the mirror just as he brings you over the edge. You cry out his name and clamp down on him, sending him to his finish right behind you.

You watch as his face twists in pleasure as he cries out your name.

It's so overwhelming that your whole body shakes before both of you collapse on top of the counter.

It takes you both a minute to come down from your high, Rooster slowly pulls out of you. You wince at the loss of contact, already missing the fullness of him.

He tucks himself back into his pants and attempts to make himself presentable. He grabs a few paper towels to help clean you up, but when he goes to reach for the sink, he sees it. The faucet handle laying haphazardly next to you.

His eyes go wide before he lets out a laugh. It takes a moment before your brain catches up with the rest of your body to realize what you've done.

"Oh Fuck!" You screech out, jerking you clothes back into place. "Penny is going to kill us! Not only did we desecrate her bathroom, we broke something too."

"I'll just pay for it. Don't worry, baby." Rooster says to you casually.

"I can't go back out there with this. If I do, everyone will know what we did. I can not do the walk of shame— again, " you groan.

"Baby, for one, I'm pretty sure everyone knows what we did—even if we didn't break the faucet. And for two—it's not a walk of shame. It's a victory lap." Rooster grins.

"I'm not going out there, Bradley. I can't." You start to panic.

"Since when are you shy? This was your idea." He reminds you.

"I know, I know but I didn't take into account the possibility of property damage!" You scold him.

"C'mon honey, I'll explain everything to Penny, and we will all have a good laugh about it." Rooster grabs your hand, trying to tug you out of the bathroom.

You plant your feet, refusing to move. "Fine, if you want to do this the hard way, don't say I didn't try." Rooster sighs. Before you can respond, he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder. He grabs the faucet handle before carrying you out of the bathroom.

"Bradley Alexander Bradshaw! You put me down this instant you—you big lug!" You scold as you smack his back.

Rooster just laughed and rolled his eyes before approaching the bar. You buried your face in your hands, trying to ignore the wolf whistles from your friends.

He walks up to where Penny and Maverick are sitting and drops the handle down on the counter with a smug grin on his face.

"Sorry Penny, just put it on my tab," He states. Penny looks at the handle, too stunned to speak, before looking back at him. She opens her mouth, but Maverick cuts her off.

"Rooster— Rooster is the broken faucet a result of you defiling my daughter in the restroom?" Maverick sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He already knows the answer.

"Well, Dad, you did say you wanted grandkids." You reply as you crane your neck to look at him because Rooster still has you thrown over his shoulder.

"I—ugh" Maverick sighs, not sure how to respond. He's pretty sure Goose and Carole are laughing at him from Heaven right now.

"Like I said, Penny, just put it on my tab, gotta get the missues home to work on those grandkids for you and Mav," Rooster winks before strolling out with you still over his shoulder.

Hey babes! Here is my second contribution to @roosterforme love is in the air challenge! Inspired by the U2 song "Desire"

Hope you enjoyed it!

Tag List: @dreamingathighaltitude @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mak-32 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @rosiahills22 @thedroneranger @roosterforme @withahappyrefrain @sebsxphia

#top gun maverick #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw smut #lt. bradley bradshaw #love is in the air tgm #roosterforme #cherrycola27

[jupitercomet]

Do you have any 🐮 left? Please and thank you ❤️

I feel like if this were a movie, I would actually never shut up about it

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