#beau simpson smut

[greenorangevioletgrass]

hi babe! how about a blurb/hc about the first time you hook up with each of the TGM characters you write for? 😘

oh fuck yes bc i have Thots!!! 🤭

Jake would pull out all the stops. He’d probably buy you a drink, open with a pickup line and you’d laugh in his face and knock him down a peg, which turns out to be full of flirty banter (maybe the pickup line is a red herring—maybe his true power lies in self-depreciation, who knows). he’d take you back to his place and say “sorry it’s a mess” when it’s completely Spotless and kisses you against the kitchen counter and maybe he eats you out right there too but i will say though, Jake takes these hookups like a sport and he’s an Olympian 💪 his whole goal is to make you scream his name every time you cum (and you bet he’d make you cum over and over again until you can’t anymore and you’re begging him.

Bradley is more maverick in his ways (lol get it?). He’d do the whole nine yards, sure, but he’s also not above stealing you away into a backroom for a quickie. That man is SLOPPY as he’s kissing you and undoing or taking off enough of your clothes to touch all the best parts of you. He pins you against the wall, his mustache ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck, hand over your mouth as he whispers, “shh shh shh… wouldn’t want people to know just how dirty you are, hm?” JEEZUS

Bob needs a slow burn. This man is all about patience and tension and YEARNING, my dude 😭 you’ve known each other for a bit, dancing around each other like idiots when one of you finally cave (let’s face it, you probably kissed him first). He’s gentle and thoughtful, a total king of consent, but there’s an air of need you’ve never seen before. It’s insanely hot. Definitely the pussy eating king out of everyone here 10/10

BONUS! Beau, aka Cyclone, fucks like he’s been depraved for years (although with his divorce, it certainly feels like it). He will respectfully disrespect you, yanking your panties to the side before he slams your hips down into his. Not much of a talker, but definitely a grunter. He would try to be casual, but would struggle hard to let you out of his arms when you’re done. Or the morning after. 😝

[barbiewritesstuff]

Wife, girlfriend or Whatever: Chapter 4

-- HI!!!! Chapter 4 is finally done omg, I’m sorry if this isn’t amazing, I’m not sure how I feel about it but yeah I hope you guys still like it lol, I will get better for part 5 tho, promise.

Thank you so much @Igg5989 for beta reading this, I cannot do this without you. 

TW. IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 GTFO, SMUT, p in v sex, oral sex (on both ends)

Previous Part

Taglist: @luckyladycreator2 @feedthemadness-sweetie @ravensmadreads @mslizziesblog @littlebadariell @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @rose-sensuelle @whorunstheworldgirls @auntiegigi

(half of y’all didn’t ask to be tagged but you commented on part 3 so I thought you might like to see the update, sorry if not, feel free to ask me to remove you from the taglist)

“So, future Mrs Simpson, where do you want to go now? Back to the hotel?” Beau asked as soon as you stepped out of the restaurant and back onto the street, where the cold hit your face, flushing your cheeks.

“You promised me some window shopping,” you reminded him, following him down the road. 

“Right,” he smiled, “Wouldn’t want to disappoint my new fiancé immediately after proposing.”

“I can’t believe you did that,” 

“I told you I would make you pay,” he chuckled, “You can take the ring off, if you want,” 

“Yeah, I think I might, wouldn’t want it to stain my finger… Green really isn’t my colour,” you replied, turning the ring around on your finger. It felt strange, now that the fake proposal was over and the embarrassment had been washed away, you almost felt a little sad that it hadn't been a real ring, “On the other hand, how will everyone know I’m engaged?” you joked, trying to deal with your feelings in the only way you knew how, by ignoring them altogether.

“You make a fair point,” he said, “Maybe this will help?” he asked, grabbing your hand in his, interlacing your fingers with his.

“It’s a start,” you replied, turning away from him as you pretended to look at something on the other side of the road, “I think New York is growing on me,” you said, taking in the beautifully decorated shop window. 

“Don’t fall in love with it,” Beau warned, “NYC is a whole lot further than Santa Barbara,”

“Have you ever been?” you asked, “Santa Barbara, I mean,”

“Once or twice,” he replied, “It’s nice. The beach is beautiful, water’s warm…” he trailed off, “And eighty-third highest crime rate in California..” he added with a grin

“Says the man from Saint Louis,” you scoffed

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s like, the city with the highest crime rate in the US!” 

“I take it you’re not coming for Christmas, then?” he grinned

“I didn’t know it was a serious offer,” 

“It depends on your answer,” 

“Coward,” you poked him with a finger, “Don’t want me to meet your mama now we’re engaged? Why? Is there someone else? OH MY GOD, are you cheatin’?” you exclaimed, the Texan accent you usually tried to soften now coming through with the excitement. 

“Damn it you caught me,” he laughed, letting your hand go for a second. Before you could mourn the loss of contact, he snaked his hand around your waist and pulled you closer. Beau planted a kiss on your cheek, the feeling of it so electrifying that both of you paused for a second. You wondered if the gesture had reminded him of the kiss you had shared earlier that evening. It had made him pause, and while at that moment you had been happy the kiss had had any effect at all, now you wondered if it was because of surprise and not because of what you hoped… that he might return your feelings. 

Not that it mattered anyway. If he did, you would still be leaving, and he would still be your boss. HR would still investigate and it would still marr your record. Even if he did like you back, nothing could happen. Or that was what the rational part of your brain was desperately trying to make you understand while every other fibre of your being wanted him to never let go.

“HR,” you murmured, quietly enough that only Beau would hear, although if you had to be honest, while the rational part of your brain was trying to put a stop to it all, you were really hoping he hadn’t heard.

“You’re right,” he said, letting go of you, “Although…” he paused, “They’re not…here, are they…”

“Beau,” you tried to warn him half-heartedly

“All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t tell them, if we were a little less … professional,” he said, “Would you?”

“No,” you breathed, letting your mind wander, wondering what ‘less professional’ could mean. Your heart hoped it meant more hugs, and perhaps a few more kisses, but the heat pooling between your legs was telling you it wanted ‘less professional’ to end between the sheets. 

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” he tried to reassure you, “We’re just friends.” 

“Right,” you shot him a strained smile, “Just friends,” you added, “Just joking around.”

“Right,” he smiled back. Beau looked at his shoes, something he did whenever a situation got more awkward than he knew how to deal with, and then coughed, “I was thinking Madison Avenue.”

“Sorry?”

“Window shopping. I was thinking of Madison Avenue,” he explained, “We’ll take a cab though, I know you can walk on those, but it’s half an hour away from here on foot.” 

You hummed in agreement. Beau hailed a cab, displaying  the same efficiency he had at the airport. This cabbie, however, was silent for the entire five minute drive uttering only a quick hello when you climbed in and goodbye when you stepped out of the taxi and onto the avenue. While you imagined Madison Avenue to be somewhat impressive all year round, Christmas and its seasonal decorations had made it breathtaking. 

Beau walked you down the avenue, past Chanel and Tiffany’s and eventually past Saks department store, its front covered in impressive fairy lights, attracting everyone’s eye. You stood there admiring it for a while, until Beau tugged at the sleeve of the jacket you were wearing and motioned for you to move. 

He smiled at you, “Don’t get decorations like that in California, do we?”

“I’m thinking we were ripped off,” you laugh a little breathlessly, feeling slightly silly that you were so affected by little twinkling lights. 

“You’d get used to it,” he shrugged, “After a while it just becomes normal. Look,” he pointed at people passing by without sparing a second glance, “The locals just want to go home, they don’t even look at it anymore. The only people stopping by are parents with curious kids and tourists…”

“That’s sad,” 

He shrugged again, “San Diego has plenty of nice decorations, you don’t really notice those, do you?”

“I guess,” you admitted, “Doesn’t make it any less sad, though.”

Beau grinned, “I guess I just have to cheer you up, then,” he said, leading you into a side street on your right. You followed him as he sped up slightly until he veered right again and stepped into the biggest Barnes and Noble you had ever seen. 

“We have twenty minutes before they close,” he stated, looking at his watch, “Have fun,” he added, “I’ll be getting myself a coffee.”

You smiled and turned away from him, moving from section to section and row to row until the intercom crackled on and a voice announced five minutes until closing time. Gutted that you hadn’t even gotten to the section you had really wanted to get to and find the book you were dying to buy, you made your way to the café to find Cyclone. 

He stood off to the side of the café, leaning against a pillar, waiting for you with a cup of coffee in his hands, “Not getting anything?”

“No time, I’ll swing by tomorrow. I have a nail appointment anyway,” 

“Oh nice,” he smiled

“It’s not nearby, but I’d do just about anything for Stephen King, even if that involves braving the metro,” you joked nodding towards the poster advertising the book. An ardent love for Stephen King was another thing your father had passed on to you before his passing, and after his death, his complete collection had been willed to you. Sadly, because your apartment was so small, the fifty seven fiction novels, five non-fictions, several short story anthologies and the seven novels written under a pen name, now rested in a dark and dingy storage unit you rented for an outrageous amount of money from a horribly creepy and outrageously rude little woman with a terribly behaved dog. 

That was likely the only thing that really made you look forward to the new apartment, the living room was spacious enough to fill it with the shelves needed to host your Stephen King collection and the rest of your books too. 

“So,” Beau said with an amused frown, “Catacombs are creepy, and true crime is terrifying but Stephen King is fine? Remind me what kind of books he writes again?”

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes

“Ooh,” he said, “Crabby. Drink up,” he added, handing you his half finished coffee, “They were closing up and didn't want to make two coffees.”

“Bullshit,” you called out his lie, “you’ve had too much to drink and you forgot my order.”

“Never!” he laughed, “I don’t get drunk.”

“Liar,” you smiled

“I’m barely tipsy,” he replied with a huff, “I can hold my liquor pretty well, princess. I used to be a frat guy, you know?”

“I fail to see what that has to do with anything, I’ve met plenty of frat boys--,” you said, emphasising the ‘boy’, “-- who couldn’t hold their alcohol.”

“I’m not convinced,” you shrugged, “I say you need to prove it to me. How about a few drinks at the hotel bar?” you offered

“Don’t want the night to end yet, babygirl?”

“Not when I’m having this much fun, Adm--” you started, stopping short in front of a shop window. The outside was dark, decorations having been forgotten, the only sign that Christmas was near being a small pine tree by the window topped with a small golden star but the inside was dimly lit by a small desk lamp by the till where a woman sat hunched over a notebook, furiously scribbling things down. Hiding her somewhat, back lit unattractively, was the most beautiful dress you had ever seen. 

It looked very similar to Grace Kelly’s dress in Rear Window, a black top with a white embroidered skirt, made to seem full with a generous petticoat and finished off with white elbow gloves and a lovely chiffon scarf. It looked enchanting. 

“Everything okay?” Beau asked

“All good,” you grinned, “Pretty dress.”

---

After a long evening walk in freezing New York, you were ready for the warmth of the Edison hotel, although neither of you were keen to go your separate ways. Something had shifted in the air, Beau’s comment about dropping the professionalism had made the air charged with something neither of you could put your finger on. 

“How about we have that drink, then?” you offered, reminding him of his claim that he never got drunk. You had drunk enough at the Rivage, but a small part of you wondered, probably aided by the very nice wine,  where the evening might lead if you didn’t go back to your individual rooms.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” he said, his words contradicting his body, leading the two of you towards the lift and pressing the button for the rooftop bar. You stumbled onto the top floor with his hand against the small of your back. Beau led you to a small two person table near the edge, where you had the best view of New York. You looked at the view, the twinkling lights of the city that never slept looking more like stars than cars and buildings. You were suddenly shaken out of your reverie by Beau. He tugged your -- his -- coat off and hung it at the back of your chair. You turned around to thank him, finding yourself inches from his body. 

"Oh my God, how are you so warm?!" You chuckled as soon as your bare hand accidentally grazed Beau's shoulder. Although the rooftop bar wasn't by any means warm, the covered portion had been heated up sufficiently that keeping coats, gloves and hats on would be a little uncomfortable, but because he'd been walking around in the snow without a coat, you had expected him to be cold to the touch, if not downright frostbitten, "You're like a furnace," you added.

Beau grinned at you, extending his arms out into a T, inviting you in for a hug. You shrugged his coat off and dived in, making yourself comfortable in his embrace without a second thought, "I could live here," you said, voice muffled by his jumper and the skin of his neck. He smelled amazing, whatever aftershave he usually used had been swapped for something nicer and you couldn't deny it was doing things to you. It was musky and masculine, "I'm sorry, that was a weird thing to say," you mumbled.

"It's okay," he replied, wrapping his arms around you a little tighter, trapping you into him for a little longer, not that you wanted to go. You felt Beau bow down his head, hiding his face into the crook of your neck in the same way you were doing to him, and you wondered if he could feel your lips against his neck in the same way you felt his, and if it was eliciting the same thoughts. You tried to push them away but with no success. If you stayed any longer, you were afraid you might start to kiss any inch of exposed skin you could reach. You were dying to run your tongue against his neck, nip at his jawline, and run your hands against his bare flesh, regardless of the fact that you were in the middle of Edison's rooftop bar, surrounded by patrons and staff but you shouldn't. He was your boss, and would be for another few weeks. 

"I'd let you," he added, almost in a whisper. You weren't sure you had heard him correctly. Maybe your brain had made words out of the rustle of a coat, or you'd caught the last few words of someone else's conversation. Unwilling to face reality, you burrowed deeper into him and Beau chuckled, the sound of his deep voice crackling through him like thunder in a way that made your stomach flip. You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, the intention to never act on your all consuming attraction flying out of your mind as soon as you crossed his gaze. 

While still gentle, his eyes watched you with a sort of intensity that almost made your legs buckle. The strong arms holding you close to him in the hug moved, one came to rest at the small of your back, pressing you impossibly closer, while the other snaked its way up to your hair, his hand leading your head closer to him as he leant down. Beau kissed you, at first tentatively, almost asking if you really wanted this but he gained confidence when both of your hands moved to his chest, holding the crumbling fabric of his previously crisp shirt and pulling his upper body towards you.

The kiss, which had now grown deep and passionate, had short-circuited your brain and turned it into mush. You had all but forgotten the other patrons of the bar, or the taboo nature of your current actions, the only thing you were aware of right now, was the growing need you felt for him. 

He pulled himself off of you, coming up out of breath and flushed.

"It's shit, but if you want a drink, I'm sure we can make coffee in my room," he breathed, using up all of his self control not to dive in for a second kiss. You nodded eagerly, grabbing your bag and his coat so quickly you would have laughed and called yourself pathetic if you had had a clearer mind. 

You walked briskly out of the bar, Beau following right behind you. By chance, the lift doors opened and three men walked out right as you approached, letting you step into an empty elevator. As soon as the doors slid shut, Beau pushed you against the wall, caging you in with his arms around you and one knee pinned between your legs. He broke the kiss and you whined. Either he didn't hear you or he didn't care, but Beau didn't react, he simply kissed your cheek, going down to your jaw and then down your neck, peppering searing kisses against your skin, eliciting needy moans. 

He nipped at your collarbone and you let out a whiny "Please". 

He laughed. Beau opened his mouth to reply but the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Just in time, he flew off of you, stepping back into the opposite corner as two elderly women walked in. They stood right in the middle, keeping you and Beau separated. He seemed unaffected, hiding his tenting trousers with his coat while his other hand played around with a packet of cigarettes he had gotten out of his coat. He played nonchalance very well, but you were having trouble. Aside from the obvious flush and heavy breathing, you were acutely aware of your ruffled hair and blown out pupils. One good look at you and the two women would know exactly what the issue was. You weren't sure why you were so concerned that they would know, but your hand came up to smooth down your hair anyway. 

Under Beau's watchful gaze, which you could feel burning the back of your head with the same needy intensity he had displayed minutes ago, back when you were alone, you fixed your dress. Tugging at the back and smoothing the area over your ass, you then tried to stand casually, very aware of just how wet you were and ashamed that the women might know that too.

"You okay?" Beau asked, appearing behind you very suddenly. You jumped as he spoke, having bent down so he could speak into your ear, his breath feeling hot on the skin of your neck and fanning the flames of your burning desire.

"Bastard," you replied

"Watch your language, Miss," he whispered so only you could hear. The blush covering your cheeks only intensified and you tried to look down, hoping the downwards angle would hide your flush from unwanted spectators. The lift dinged again as it hit another floor and the doors opened to let in three middle aged couples. A strong hand grabbed you around the waist, fingers spreading wide to get a better surface area, and you were backed into Cyclone's warm and inviting chest. He coughed, you could feel it rumbling through his body, it sent shivers down your spine and you felt Beau smirk. 

Then, after what seemed like an agonisingly long time, the lift dinged again. You grabbed Beau's hand behind you and practically dragged him out to his room, only stopping short when you realised he had the keys. He let you in but you barely made it past the threshold before you pushed him against the wall and kissed him. 

Beau let his hands roam now that you were in the privacy of his hotel room. His fingers grazed over your legs, following the seams of your dress till he seemingly worked up the bravery to find his way under it. After some brief touches, he found the side of your panties and followed the hem around till he got to your ass. All pretence of shyness flew out the window as he grabbed a handful and groaned into your mouth. His hand flew out of your dress, finding the zip in the blink of an eye and undressing you as fast as he could, letting the soft fabric of your dress hit the floor with a gentle thud. Keen to gain the upper hand again, he pushed you off of him and against the opposite wall, caging you in again. He didn’t kiss you, instead, he stood back a little, admiring the underwear set you were wearing. A lacey red three piece set you wore to feel confident, consisting of a bra, crotchless panties and a garter belt holding up your thighs. 

“Fuck me,” he chuckled, “Fuck me,” he repeated, breathlessly. His arms fell by his side as he took a step back to get a better look at the ensemble. 

“Happily,” you answered, making him look back at you in stunned silence, like, despite having gotten you undressed, he didn’t expect that that would be where the evening was going. 

And to be fair, he hadn’t really thought this far. In fact, he didn’t really seem able to think at all, and he was glad you seemed to be able to. Beau looked at you, feeling very much like he had died and gone to heaven, and watched you frown. You grabbed his tie, dragging him closer to you. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Admiral,” you said in a sultry tone, “How about I fix that?” removing his tie in one swift motion.

Your fingers made quick work of his shirt, unbuttoning it with unparalleled efficiency and then of his trousers, letting the lot fall to the floor right next to your dress. You sank down to your knees and looked up, that simple action eliciting another groan from Beau, which was swiftly cut off when you leant in and ran your lips against the outline of his boxer shorts. His eyes fluttered shut, one hand coming to rest against the wall in front of him in an effort to keep himself upright. He felt your hands bring his underwear down, revealing his length. 

You let out a giggle as it accidentally bumped against your lips and Beau looked down, seeing you look up with hungry, blown out pupils and a smile on your face, his rock hard member hiding the centre of your face. You winked at him and moved, wrapping your pretty lips around the tip of his cock and licking the sensitive part of it. Cyclone let out a moan which seemingly spurred you on as you took on more of his cock, til he felt himself hit the back of your throat and your lips wrapped around the base of his dick. You gagged after a moment, tears forming in your eyes and when you came back up, you looked absolutely wrecked.

“Use me,” you whispered, popping him out of your mouth to speak, and Beau seriously wondered if this wasn’t all a dream. His brain didn’t seem to think so, though, because one of his hands automatically moved to grab a handful of your hair. You opened your mouth wide to encourage him, but Beau didn’t need it. Steadying you with his hand, he started fucking himself into your mouth at a leisurely pace, giving you time to adjust to a more comfortable position. 

Beau had always thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world, ever since you first stepped in his office, but he had to admit that while you looked gorgeous all made up, there was something to be said for the way you looked right then, with mascara streaking down your cheeks, lipstick smudged, and your lovely manicured fingers holding his thighs as he thrust himself in and out of your mouth at a quickening pace. He was getting closer to his high with every thrust and it took all of his self control not to allow himself to spill his cum inside your mouth. 

“Bed,” he said, pulling himself out of your mouth. You pouted but obeyed, jogging over to his king sized bed with an impatient smile. Beau went over to his suitcase, zipping a pocket open and pulling out a condom. You waited for him on the sheets, legs spread open so he could see your aching core. 

Moments later, the bed dipped in front of you. He kneeled down between your legs for a second before allowing his fingers to rub against your sensitive nub for a few seconds before travelling down and gathering up some of your slick. He watched it glisten in the yellow light of the hotel room before popping his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean, eliciting a needy moan from you. He then dropped to his elbows, pulling you forward towards his mouth as he threw your legs over his shoulders. Beau gently kissed the sides of your thighs, keeping eye contact with you and smirking when you whimpered and whined. Eventually, after a few more seconds of torture, he parted your lips with his tongue and explored until he found your sensitive nub. Closing his lips around it, he gently suckled, taking care to lick it at the same time until he could feel you getting closer. Your hips bucked in his face, desperate for something more than he was giving you and he smiled against your cunt. Beau held you down with both his hands, determined to have you come on his face and you did moments later with a moan he was certain the neighbours heard. 

He let you gently come down from your high before making his way back up your body for a kiss. While all the other ones had been eager and impatient, this one was more passionate and slow, Beau took his time to enjoy how your lips moved against his, how your tongue felt as it battled his for dominance. He lined himself up with you, gently pressing his member into your core. Once inside, he stilled for a moment and then thrust in and out in slow, careful movements. Beau tried to stay concentrated, savouring every noise you made and keen to make this last as long as possible but his orgasm was fast approaching. He lifted himself up til he was kneeling down, his hand travelled to your core, rubbing your clit until he felt you tighten against him, your hand flying to your mouth to muffle the sound of your orgasm. The added pressure sent him over the edge and he spilled his seed into the condom with a loud groan. 

Eventually, he pulled out of you. Tying the condom at the base and throwing it out before joining you in the shower, the hot water washing over you as you kissed. You didn’t want the evening to end, but as the clock struck midnight and the day ended with one last Frankie song floating through the open window, you fell asleep, wrapped in Beau’s arms. 

He laid awake a little longer, fighting against sleep in order to enjoy the moment a little longer before finally losing his battle and closing his eyes as Frank sang: 

"In the wee small hours of the morning

While the whole wide world is fast asleep

You lie awake and think about the girl

And never, ever think of counting sheep"

[oncasette]

𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒…

𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗛𝗔𝗦 𝗜𝗧𝗦 𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗞𝗦…

relationship hc

…𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗦𝗘 𝗣𝗜𝗟𝗢𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧

[beachbabey]

`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´

! - indicates smut, minors do not interact

tummy kisses (!)

beau x innocent!reader (!)

beau goes away for a weekend (tw!regression)

honeybee (tw!regression)

all yours (tw!regression)

[thecitysgraveyard]

okay well I'm also writing for top gun/top gun maverick so you can request for bradley bradshaw, nick bradshaw, beau simpson, jake seresin and robert floyd

and you can request angst, fluff or smut, you can also give prompts if you want :)

[stcverogers]

TOP GUN FIC RECS 6!

top gun fics that i’ve been reading and obsessing with over recently

this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.

F: fluff A: angst S: smut

𖥻 - series /multi part

masterlist

JAKE 'HANGMAN' SERESIN

F + A: jake seresin and the unfortunate hat situation by @sehnsuchts-trunken it's your first time in texas and you don't understand what the big fuss about hats is about.

F: never grow up by @andorskenobi you've fallen ill and the seresin boys play doctor.

F + A: signed away by @seresinhangmanjake at 19 years old, the last thing you want is to marry someone you don't love. however, a contract is a contract and you must see it through.

F: 7 years by @flaming-tgmcu jake's known you since he was 7 and he's loved you ever since.

F + S: birds away by @wombtotombx 𖥻 everyone who knew you and jake growing up were convinced that you'd end up together. you were perfect for one another. yet life and the navy had other plans.

F: tiktok troubles by @ultralightpoe jake misses date night and to get back at him, you pull tiktok pranks when he least suspects it.

F: sweet as candy by @halsteadsbradshaw with a callsign like haribo, it's no wonder you have a sweet tooth. jake knows this and this is the 4 times he brings you candy.

F + A: you again by @ereardon you're back in jake's life and he's determined not to let you go again.

F + A: bad habit by @seasonsbloom 𖥻 hangman was cocky. a complete asshole. you hated him, that was for sure.

F + A: glue song + part 2 + part 3 by @waklman the coffee you make isn't why jake is friends with you, though it is a good plus.

A: move on by @starlightstories jake left you hurt years ago and you've long moved on. it was time that he did too.

F + A: rule number one + rule number two by @ultralightpoe when you first met jake, he made the rule to not fall in love with him. you break it and he breaks you heart in the process.

F + A: nothing else matters by @sunnysidevans despite not being her biological father, jake had helped you raise evelyn ever since you found out you were pregnant with her.

F: dad jake blurb by @stargazing15

F + A: left at the alter by @tip-top-cloud-surfer 𖥻 you get left at the alter by your jerk of a fiance. luckily, jake is there for you, just like when you were younger.

F: the beanery by @callsign-peach when jake keeps coming into work with fancy thermos coffee every morning, his colleagues get jealous and want in on the nice roast too.

F + A: tell them by @sarahsmi13s 𖥻 jake's nearly loses his eldest son to a car accident and decides it is finally time to share his family with his work one.

F + A: i had to let go of you just to get a hold of myself by @gennyanydots 𖥻 jake thought that leaving everything behind would make it easier. instead he feels alone, his life consisting of nothing but his job that consumes him.

F: a little bit easier by @sunlitsunflowers jake is there to comfort you when you start to feel overwhelmed at the hard deck

F: marry that girl by @books-are-escapes jake always knew that you were the one he would marry and he finally made it happen

BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

F: baby, i'm yours by @almightyellie you're completely blind to bradley's very obious affections for you.

F: to the moon and back by @katsu28 a very special valentine's day for you and bradley

F + A: i will always love you by @amysteryspot with his parents gone and the closest thing he knew to love away, bradley wasn't expecting anyone to tap him out.

F + A: fawn by @sappy-seresin you've garnered rooster's interest working at the hard deck. your skittish behaviour leaves him worried and curious.

F: wedding day by @tip-top-cloud-surfer it's bradley's wedding day and he's brought to tears from seeing his bride

S: (christmas) baby please come home by @gretagerwigsmuse if bradley broke your agreement of only one gift each, surely he wouldn't mind if you broke it too.

F + S: the keeper + part 2 by @tulipsbymybed rooster is infatuated with the owner of the local bookshop.

F + A: homemade dynamite by @mothdruid you and rooster hadn't ended on good terms, now, you're both back at top gun.

F + A: endings and beginnings + part 2 by @tip-top-cloud-surfer rooster finally gets his chance at a family

F: just roommates by @risriswrites you and bradley were roommates, that's all.

F + A: terms of endearment by @ohtobeleah 𖥻 jake seresin was an instigator. as your brother-figure in life, he just wants you to be happy. this includes pushing you and rooster together.

F + A: something special by @helloheyhihowdyheya rooster cares for you more than he lets on, he just has a terrible way of showing it

F + A: what a look on you by @thewulf you secretly harbour feelings for bradley. when a friend from college comes visit and rooster seems far more enamored by her than you, you're hurt.

F: 5 times the Bronco was a third wheel by @thesewordsareallihavetogive there isn't many things bradley loves more than his bronco. you, maybe, but that's about it.

F + S: what's in a name? by @sometimesanalice bradley's favourite thing about you was the way you said his name

F + A: superstar + part 2 by @maggiedanikka bradley bradshaw was the poster boy for the americna navy. he was everything you weren't. why would he ever fall for the likes of someone like you?

F: daddy's little princess by @startrekfangirl2233-writes you come home to bradley playing dinosaurs and barbies with your two children

F: milk and toast and honey by @amysteryspot despite your bad experience with naval aviators, you have an affinity for one bradley bradshaw

F: romeo, romeo by @welcome-to-my-multiverse rooster is completely enamored by you and the dagger squad definitely shouldn't have left a drunk him alone with you.

ROBERT 'BOB' FLOYD

F: losing something and the other picks it up and calls after them by @callsignsaturn

F: afternoon bedrest by @jungle-angel bob returns home with an upset stomach. lucky for him, you're there to comfort him

F: he's all that by @withahappyrefrain bob's too nervous to approach the cute girl at the hard deck. his team mates decide that a makeover is just the confidence boost he needs

F: rodeo by @sarahsmi13s though you could perfectly hold your own, bob would always stand up for you.

F: surprise by @topgun-imagines bob proposed to his girl and no one the dagger squad had known

F: blind date gone...wrong? by @intricatechaosofyou you get stood up on a blind date. thankfully, bob is there to save you the embarrassment.

F: wanna buy you a drink by @anonymooseforever007 you surprise bob at the hard deck, but not without a little teasing first.

S: untouchable + part 2 by @idkwhylou as the only daughter of the captain, you were placed on a pedestal, deemed untouchable. bob was the only exception.

TOM 'ICEMAN' KAZANSKY

F: little reward by @dragon-kazansky to entice tom away from his computer, you promise him hugs and strawberries

BEAU 'CYCLONE' SIMPSON

F: super trouper + part 2 by @callsignmayhem you're sick and beau is ready to help you feel better, with the help of soup and mamma mia.

[deanscroissant]

Something Gained Series

Beau Simpson thought he would never fall in love again until a nurse crossed his path. He wants to take interest in her, but there’s one problem:

He’s married.

Warnings: Infidelity (DON’T DO IT), Sexual Content, 18+ (MINORS DNI), Violence, Angst, AFAB reader in mind, Age Gap (Cyclone is 50, reader is 30), Mentions of Miscarriage.

Parings/Characters: Beau “Cyclone” Simpson x reader, Beau “Cyclone” Simpson x OC! Rose Simpson, Dagger Squad

A/n: Hey hey! I finally did it. I’m starting my first cyclone series! Once I get a schedule going, I’ll definitely be posting the first chapter. If you like to be tagged, please let me know. 💜

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

[lieutenantfloyd]

So I know it’s been a little while since I commented on the mood board for Cyclone in the winter. Here’s one of my ideas. It’s Cyclone having a dream where the two of you are enjoying the winter wonderland being all lovey dovey, but he wakes up to the jarring reality that he hasn’t manned up yet to tell you how he feels about you.

Hello there! I'm always so excited to hear your ideas and I've honestly spent the last week thinking about this ask.

Beau is totally the type to invite you back to Alaska with him, even in spite of his feelings. He'd genuinely have no further intentions than to not be completely alone and isolated for two weeks. On your first night, he's already picturing a life together. By day three you've settled into a routine that's painfully domestic. When the sixth day rolls around, he has got to get out of the house and clear his head. He leaves midday with the excuse of getting firewood.

A few hours later he returns and immediately goes to work starting the fire. Once it's going, you make your way outside. Only to end up all bundled up against him (only to conserve heat, of course), while he's sitting there deep in thought. His troubled mind filled up only by you and a certain four-letter word he hasn't quite been able to say yet...

a/n: I actually ended up writing a short drabble based on this. It's about 500 words and written in Cyclone's POV. Please let me know if you'd like to read it/if it's ok for me to post it!

[callsignthirsty]

#17 "When I get home I expect you to be undressed and waiting on all fours for me." With Cyclone 🫣

@deadratio — come get your man Also, big thanks to @purelyfiction who helped me a whole helluva lot with this. You're the best ❤️

Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x F!Reader Word Count: 1830 Warnings: Masturbation, dirty talk, phone sex (kinda-sorta-almost), daddy Minors DNI

Smut Prompt #17

There's something about coming home to an empty home that makes you just… well. As your keys find their home on the hall tree, you fail to place the feeling that falls over your home like a shadow each time Beau leaves. Even the armchair in the living room — your usual perch, book in hand as the wall clock ticks in the background — feels wrong now as the quiet lingering and longing settle deep into your bones.

"Yearning," you mumble as epiphany strikes. You've given up on your book, having only gotten a couple of pages in before realizing that you'd absorbed none of the words.

He's been away at conferences since you'd gotten together, but this is the first time a conference has been delayed — curse the weather in upstate New York. As it is, the conference began the very day it was supposed to end, and now as the sun continues to blaze a trail through the sky, there's no time to pop open a bottle of red. You help yourself to a heavy-handed pour and check the time in New York.

7:48 PM.

It isn't even 5:00 PM on the west coast, and Beau's undoubtedly seated around some dinner table making polite conversation with some admiral or another.

Beau would've been home by that time had your time zones been the same. Khakis creased from a day of desk work, skin tacky from roasting in his office with nothing but the admin building's ancient AC unit to combat the San Diego sun. He'd slide into his spot behind you while you finished dinner. Press a kiss into the curve of your neck as his arms wrap around you, biceps testing the limits of the cotton twill as the lingering scent of his body wash lights up something in the fuzzy reaches of your hindbrain, and he towers over you. Cradles you to his chest. Praises your efforts for the day and beckons in the night.

It's hardly night now, though, as you, your glass, and your pinot finds your way to the bedroom. A sigh escapes your lips when you see how empty the bed is. It's not that you're surprised. You knew it would be empty. But it's one thing knowing and another seeing.

You feel like a new woman after one incredibly indulgent bath and three glasses of wine. Not a less lonely one, but certainly different.

You don't bother dressing as you return to your shared bedroom and make a home for the remaining pinot on your bedside table atop a coaster. A smile tugs at your lips as your fingers brush the coaster. You couldn't have given two shits about condensation rings on your furniture before Beau, but Beau had opinions. It was one of the many ticks that had you smitten with the vice admiral.

Stretched out on the duvet, you sigh again in defeat, boredom, and yearning. The wine and the bath have made everything warm, but you aren't ready to go to sleep yet, so instead, you stare at your phone's lock screen. Your finger traces over his cheek, and the phone's screen warps. You click the screen off and back on until Beau smiles back at you. This photo is a closely-guarded favorite. A side of your Beau that no one else gets to see immortalized in 4K. The Beau who stirs beside you in the early hours of the morning and rouses you with whisper-soft kisses across your shoulders. Some mornings, those kisses move in one of two ways.

Lashes flutter closed with an alcohol-fueled whine. You'd give the world to feel the mattress dip beneath Beau's weight beside you. His steady breathing at your side as he slips into one of his deep sleep sessions. To trace mindless patterns across his arms until he woke with a shiver. Until he'd gather you to his chest and roll on top of you, voice raspy as he asks if his princess needs attention.

She does, you think to yourself, blinking back to your lock screen and Beau's smiling face. It takes fumbling hands long seconds to unlock your phone and tap on Beau's contact. The phone rings, and you can see him in your mind's eye. Dressed in his service blues, a political smile, Warlock at his side.

A second ring. Your tongue feels heavy as you try to think of what you'll say past the 'baby, I miss you' that runs on a loop through your mind. Would you ask him to step outside and entertain you for a while?

"You've reached the voicemail box of Rear Admiral Beau Simpson. I am currently unavailable. Please leave your name and number, and I will return your call as soon as feasible. Thanks."

Beep.

Your lips move before your brain can catch up. "I think you know my name, Admiral," your voice sounds like velvet brushed backward to your own ears. "It sounded so pretty coming off your lips when you were unavailable with me before you left." You bite at your bottom lip even as it curls into a grin. This is different from where you thought the night would take you, but the wine appears to have both you and Beau's voicemail along for the ride. "I wish you were here with me," you confess as your fingers trace the folds of the duvet. "Beside me. Inside me."

Your cheeks heat, suddenly hot between your thighs. "Fuck," you whine, "I'm so empty, Beau." Your legs fall apart of their own accord as you roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling and trying to conjure images of his handsome face. The spark that lights his eyes when he has you exactly where he wants you. Wanton. On your back. Calloused hands inspecting every inch of your body as if he expects there to be a test later. His tongue leaving cold trails across your skin. How perfectly he melds with you, stretching you wide. The little grunts that sneak out as he husks your name into the curve of your neck.

Oh, if only he were here. But he isn't, so it's your hand that drifts to your splayed legs, your fingers that gather and spread the slickness that accumulates at just the thought of him. "God, Daddy," you gasp, "wish you could feel how wet I am. See how much I've missed you." The last word trails off on a moan, lost as two of your fingers slowly enter your aching cunt. It's nowhere near the satisfying burn of his fingers. There's simply no comparison. Another whimper falls from your lips as you try to satisfy your burning desire. "Can you hear it, daddy? How wet your baby is?" you ask as you drive your fingers back in with a wet squelch that you hope the phone picks up.

"It's not the same," you gasp, brows drawn in disappointment. "My fingers are too small." A third finger joins the two already pumping in and out of you, and your breath hitches. "They don't feel the same. Don't feel as good." Your head tips back, mind recalling pleasured snippets of past encounters, touches that continue to burn you even though he's an entire country away. Your legs tense, shaking at the recollection of endless nights, his cock splitting you apart, your own voice echoing, calling his name in the pleasured silence of memory until a quiet, desperate "Beau" slips past your lips and onto the recording.

'Look at what a good girl you're being for Daddy.' You can practically hear him, and the imagined praise has your back arching, fingers curling. 'Aww, Princess, you feel so good on Daddy's cock.'

The air in the room is thick, hard to gulp down as your fingers continue to work at your core even as a cramp builds in your wrist. Sound leaves you freely, your mind and body too loose from the wine to be self-conscious as you writhe and whimper. "Daddy," another lewd cry.

You have no idea how long you've been like this. Ear pressed to the phone as you chase your high. You don't dare pull away for fear that you'll break the spell that's fallen over you, and the ball in your stomach is so tight. "But you're not here," you say, and a breathless laugh almost leaves you at the absurdity of the situation. "Guess I'll just have to take care of myself tonight." You wet your lips with a flick of your tongue. "Sweet dreams, Daddy."

The phone slips from your hand as the call ends, and your attention narrows until you're solely focused on the pleasure zinging through your veins. Each movement of your fingers is strategically matched with a hand-picked memory from the vault in the bank of your mind. Your palm rolls over your clit, knowing that your fingers won't be able to reach the spot within you that Beau can — the one deep within you that makes your stomach flip, jaw fall slack, and eyes roll back. The way his cock pushes deep with each thrust, hips crashing into yours as if he can't stand to be anywhere but buried to the hilt in your heat.

Your legs twitch to circle his hips, desperate for it. For him. This doesn't compare. Not in the slightest. But it does the job.

A hiss and a silent cry escape into the early evening, splotches of white obscuring your vision. It's nothing compared to the heights Beau will take you to when he gets home, but the pleasure rolls through your veins all the same and makes your lids heavy.

It's sometime later that your phone buzzes from its place on the ground, and you scramble to pick it up. But it's only a promotional text.

It's 10:07 PM in New York.

If previous conferences are anything to go by, Beau's night is still going strong. And you had called him in the middle of it to desperately plead for him to come home and take care of you. Begged. Whined.

Wine.

The pinot sits where you left it on the nightstand, the glass empty but enough of a nightcap left in the bottle to carry you back to dreams of brawny arms wrapped around your waist and hot breath puffed against the back of your neck as you press your nose into Beau's pillow and breathe him in.

When sunlight spills across the bed to wake you the next morning, you find yourself refreshed. In your pre-caffeine haze, you go about your morning routine before you return to bed with a piping cup of coffee and the book you'd abandoned the night previous.

Your phone buzzes on the bedside table with several notifications. Among them is a photo of an updated ticket from ALB to SAN. But that's not all.

Daddy: When I get home, I expect you to be undressed and waiting on all fours for me.

[variety-fangirl]

This is peak!!!!! 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵😍

One Night Stand in Fightertown

Summary: You've just arrived in Fightertown and meet a mysterious, older man who intrigues you. Drunk and horny, you agree to spend the night, but what happens in the morning?

Author's Note: This is my first time writing for Cyclone so please be kind! Please note GIF was all I could find for smut, so please do not focus on the woman's attributes (Or the fact that she's wearing a fucking bra?!?! Wtf is that about? How's he supposed to suck your tits?)

Song they're listening to on the jukebox is Otis Redding's "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay."

Warnings: 🔞, smutty, smut, smut, very little plot, unprotected sex, impact play, daddy kink

“You sure I can’t take you to dinner, honey? It’s your first night in town and you don’t know a soul,” your father said in a concerned voice. 

“I’m fine, Dad,” you said with a laugh at his overprotectiveness. “I just need a night to myself,” you explained. 

“Ok, I know when I’m not wanted,” he guilt-tripped you. 

“Are you going to be this clingy now that I live in the same city?” you teased. “I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast,” you reminded him before ending the call and shoving your cell into your back pocket. Heading back inside the bar your roommate recommended, you ordered another drink and meandered over to the worn out juke box. 

You bit your lip and tilted your head as you read the selections, trying to decide which tune to play. You finally chose a familiar song and punched the yellowed buttons with your index finger slowly, your buzz catching up to you faster than you realized as you stopped yourself from pushing the six instead of the eight. As your song began to play, you swayed your hips to the music, feeling pleasantly warm and happy in your own little bubble. 

Tonight was about relaxation and a fresh start. You needed to have some fun and clear your head before work started. You tried not to think about work now though as you stood by the open window, breathing in the sea air. You’d finally made it to California and you were going to enjoy yourself.

“Ottis Redding, nice choice,” you heard a deep voice say behind you. You spun around to see a dark, handsome man standing behind you and your jaw nearly dropped at the sight of him. He had muscular arms, a broad chest and trim waist, accentuated by the tight t-shirt and jeans he wore. It was casual, but stylish. The ruggedness of his jawline was punctuated by the slightest hint of stubble and you noted how there was tinge of gray there. You raised an eyebrow at him. An older man, you thought. This could be interesting. Not like the boys who usually tried and failed to capture your attention. 

“Thank you,” you said with a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You didn’t want to appear overly eager, but his gaze was already making heat rise to your cheeks.

“I’m impressed that you know it,” he said continuing to compliment you. He stepped closer, placing his beer on the table beside you.

“Well, he’s one of my dad’s favorites so I sort of had to form an appreciation early on,” you rambled. 

“Ooh, hitting me with that already. How old do you think I am, sweetheart?” he said with a playful wince. 

You held your hands up in mock protest, “No, no. I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. You were wondering how I knew the song,” you said trying to defend yourself. 

He smirked at you and you saw a glint in his eye as he extended a hand to you, “No offense taken. My name’s Beau. What’s yours?”

“Y/n,” you said shaking his hand and feeling your hand slip into his large, rough grasp. He held you there for a moment, locking eyes with you and you swore his breath hitched. 

“Nice to meet you, y/n,” he said. “Now that we’ve established your taste in music and my age, let’s move on to something more important. You want to dance with me?” You nodded, placing your drink next to his on the table and held your breath as you felt him slide his arm around your waist. 

The rest of the night was a blur of drinks, easy conversation and several rounds of pool. You were delighted to learn that your skills were far superior to his and threw your head back with laughter as he cursed at the accuracy of your bank shots. Soon it was last call and Beau’s hand was on the small of your back. You didn’t hesitate as he lead you out of the bar for a walk along the beach. 

“I can’t believe you haven’t been given a tour of the city yet,” he said. “I was sure a hundred servicemen would have offered by now,” he said glancing at you with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Nope,” you shrugged. “But I just got in today.”

“Ah, that’s it’s then,” he said with a shake of his head.

“No, it isn’t. I’ve been around military types my whole life. I’m not the type of girl who swoons over a uniform,” you said matter-of-factly, staring out over the ocean. 

“Really? Well, what does make you swoon then?” he asked, stopping suddenly.

You turned to look at him slowly and placed a hand on his shoulder seductively. “Let’s just say I like men, not boys.” Leaning into him for a deep kiss you whispered against his lips, “Besides, the only place in town I’d like to see right now is the inside of your bedroom.” You felt him smirk as he ran a hand down to grab your ass. 

“You giving the orders now?” he asked in a low voice.

“We can negotiate. I have a feeling you know what you’re doing,” you said biting your lip. 

——————————————————————

You arrived at Beau’s house in record time and he escorted you inside with the urgency of a man who wanted you badly. He pushed you against the wall and removed your shirt immediately. You allowed him to pin you, wanting to feel his weight against you at last. It was as satisfying as you had imagined. He wasn’t timid, wedging a knee between your legs and pressing it into your throbbing cunt in one swift motion that left you breathless. He rocked into you as his mouth worked yours open in a desperate kiss, pushing your hands from your body. He grabbed your wrists suddenly and pinned them over your head as his tongue delved deeper into your mouth, exploring and tasting you as low growls escaped his throat. You moaned in pleasure at the thought of him ravaging you.

When he broke away, you raked your nails through his thick hair and pushed his head toward your neck. He began pressing kisses to your jugular vein and then your collar bone, not wanting to miss an inch of your delicate skin. “I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you right now,” he whispered in your ear, nibbling at your earlobe playfully as one hand massaged your breast. Unhooking your bra for better access, he leaned down to suck a nipple into his mouth and you nearly screamed at the contact.

“Fuck, I want you so bad,” you cried out wantonly. You felt him smirk against your chest and he scooped you up in to his arms, carrying you toward his bedroom. When you arrived at the meticulously appointed room, he threw you onto the bed and you squealed as you bounced off the mattress. Beau laughed as he lifted his t-shirt and threw it over his head. You gasped viewing his perfectly defined chest and ab muscles in the dim light. He looked as though he had been carved from stone and you pushed up on your knees, crawling toward him and reaching out a hand to trace your fingers over his cut lines. He grabbed your hand and began to suck on your index and middle fingers while gazing at you intently. Your breath caught in your chest as you watched his eyes darken, feeling your clit pulse against your jeans. 

Holding you by your wrist he instructed, “Lay back and show me what you like.” Then he quickly removed his pants and then your jeans. Now nothing stood in your way save for the tiny, lace thong you wore. You traced the delicate fabric with your wet fingers, then stretched it to the side to pump your fingers in lazily. You shivered suddenly and he asked, “Are you cold?” You bit your lip and nodded. Moving closer to you, he offered, “Can I warm you up?” You removed your fingers and watched as his large hand came to rest over your cunt. Soon you felt the warmth from his palm radiate over you as you struggled to breathe normally. 

You swallowed harshly, wanting him to finger you, suck you…anything but this torture of waiting. Finally, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss to your clothed pussy. It was so delicate and sweet you barely registered anything had happened. Was he joking? you thought. You reached out and grabbed hold of his head, attempting to pull him back to where you needed him most.

His reaction was harsh, jerking your underwear down to deliver a stinging slap to your pussy as you hissed in surprise and pain. He chuckled as he looked up at you, “Don’t be impatient, baby. Promise I’m gonna take good care of your sweet little pussy.” Then he leaned down to soothe you with a full kiss to your lower lips that felt so good you dropped your head back onto the bedding with a whimper. 

Diving in to take your clit into his waiting lips, he sucked hard, making you see stars. He treated you exactly the way he promised and as you bucked your hips into his face, chasing your high, you wished his attention to your sensitive bud would never end. You began chanting his name like a prayer as he lapped and sucked, adding his fingers to your pulsing cunt. The sounds of his digits entering your wetness, made the most obscene squelching noises, but you didn’t care as you raised your hips to him, begging for more. His fingers hooked inside of you in just the right spot and you began panting with your impending orgasm. “That’s it, let go for me,” Beau urged. “Cum on my fingers, honey,” he said as he stroked your walls expertly and that was all it took to make you come undone, crying out loudly and shaking beneath him. 

When you finally came back down to earth, you realized Beau was still holding you against the mattress with one arm across your hips. You hadn’t realized the force of your orgasm and rolled your head from side to side to shake the fog from your brain. What had he done to you? He rose from the edge of the bed and hovered over you to kiss you full. You tasted yourself on his tongue and desire set into you once again. You reached down to grasp him through his boxer shorts and felt how hard he was for you. 

Pushing up onto your elbows you tugged at his shorts eagerly as though unwrapping a present. As you freed his cock, you gasped at his size and licked your lips in anticipation. Running a hand behind your head he asked, “Won’t be a problem will it?” You shook your head and took him in hand, trying to close your fist around his thick length. He extended a hand to steady himself against the wall as you sat up to take him into your waiting mouth. You lapped at the precum that was leaking from his tip savoring the taste of him as you licked ever so slowly. Finally he took your chin in his hand reprimanding you, “Don’t tease me.” The sharpness of his words sent heat straight through to your core and you began taking him into your mouth inch by inch. He stroked your cheek with his thumb as he let out a contented sigh, but the moment of tenderness ended when he began thrusting. You relaxed your throat to take him as deeply as possible, but still gagged harshly on a particularly deep stroke, saliva dripping down your chin. Beau withdrew to give you a rest and you took the opportunity to raise up and plant your hands on his chest, pushing him to the mattress firmly. 

You swung a leg over his torso, mounting him before he could protest and sunk down onto his cock in one quick movement, closing your eyes as you relished the exquisite feeling of being stretched to the hilt. You lifted your hips and sank back down again just to experience it again. You released a shaky breath and felt Beau’s hand come up to brush the hair from your face. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said breathlessly. His hands rose to your breasts, rolling and pinching your nipples as you rode him. 

He couldn’t keep his hands from your hips for long though. He kneaded the flesh, sinking his nails into you and you knew you’d have bruises by morning. The feeling of his cock dragging along your walls was too good for you to mind. You loved the mixture of pain and pleasure melding as you took what you needed from him. You could tell he was enjoying himself as well, the way he looked up at you with an awe-filled gaze. 

Your second orgasm was building quickly and your legs were tiring. Beau noticed you slow down and took control of your movements, clamping his large hands at your hips and dragging you over him again and again. Just as you were about to scream out with your release, he lifted you off him and you were left panting and confused. “Get on your knees,” he commanded and you obeyed without question.

You stuck your ass up for him and he brought a hand down over your cheek, watching it jiggle. Intoxicated by the sight, he repeated the action again on the opposite side before rubbing a hand over your stinging flesh. “Please, please fuck me, Daddy” you whined in desperate need of relief, pushing back into him. And then you stilled, suddenly wondering what he might think of the nickname. 

Using a knee to spread your legs further apart, he chuckled, then replied, “What did I tell you about patience, little one?” 

Relieved and excited that he enjoyed your little game, you answered breathlessly, “I’ll be good, Daddy. I promise.”

You swallowed thickly as he teased the tip of his cock at your entrance and pushed the thick head into you with a low groan as he savored the feeling of your warmth. When he resumed thrusting, the pace was punishing, so much so that your legs began to tremble. Finally, they gave out entirely and you collapsed flat on your stomach, but Beau didn’t stop. He kept pounding into you, one hand on your hip and one hand intertwined with yours on the mattress. “Taking me so well, sweetheart,” he praised. 

Without warning you came around him and the feeling of your tight, velvety walls milking him was all it took to trigger his own release. He spilled inside you and you moaned at the feeling of his seed filling you to the brim. "Fuck," he groaned, hot breath hitting the back of your neck as the waves of pleasure engulfed you both. He kept his weight off you, resting on one arm, but stayed inside you a moment longer as he placed kisses along your shoulder. “You were incredible,” he murmured against your skin.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” you said with a giggle.

“Let me help you clean up,” he said, uncoupling from you to stand and disappeared into the en suite bathroom. When he returned he gently wiped between your thighs with a warm washcloth and kissed you softly as he cupped your cheek. “Do you want to stay the night? I could use a good night’s rest with a beautiful woman,” he asked with a charming smile. You nodded and snuggled into his side, resting your head on his chest and carded a hand over his chest hair until you fell into a deep, uninterrupted slumber. 

————————————————————

You woke before dawn, an old habit having been raised in a military household. Dressing as quietly as possible, you glanced over your shoulder at Beau as you left still in disbelief of the incredible evening you’d had. You jotted down a note and your number on a pad in the kitchen before leaving for your apartment. You knew you’d have to rush in order to be on base in time for your first day. Shit, I promised to meet dad for breakfast, you thought. And you moved even faster to be ready on time. 

Miraculously, you made it and had an uneventful meal. After you finished eating, your dad gave you a tour and introduced you to a few people to make you feel welcome. As you were leaving to go to work, he joked with you that your normally pristine bun was a little out of place this morning. “Did my little girl have a wild night or something?” he teased, patting you on the shoulder. You nearly spit out your coffee before realizing he was joking. As Beau rounded the corner looking handsome in his uniform you were hit with a wave of shock and actually did spill your coffee. 

As you stooped to clean the spill with a napkin, your father greeted him. “Good morning admiral!”

Fuck, they know each other! Of course, they know each other! you thought, wanting to sink into the floor.

“Good morning!” Beau called out in a clear voice. Knowing you couldn’t avoid him forever if you worked on base together, you collected yourself and stood as straight as possible, giving him a salute. 

He saluted in return and said, “At ease, lieutenant…” then paused as he read your nameplate. “Bates?” he said looking from you to your father. “Any relation?” he asked nervously.

“Beau, this is my daughter, y/n,” your father said proudly. 

“Nice to meet you,” you said extending your hand a bit too quickly. You searched his eyes to see if he would play along and he did, allowing you to release the breath you’d been holding.

“I have to return to my desk now. Do you think you can find your way, honey?” your father asked.

“I think so. Thanks for breakfast, Daddy,” you said with a nod and he turned to leave you and Beau standing in the hallway looking at each other. 

Beau took a step closer to you once your father had left asking, “Warlock is your father?”

“You’re Vice Admiral Simpson?” you countered in a panicked whisper. “This is going to be awkward,” you noted. 

“Why would it be awkward?” Beau asked, pretending not to understand. He hooked his fingers into your belt loops and pulled you toward him slowly until you were flush with his body and tilted your chin up toward his smug face. “Because you call me daddy too?”

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

Tag list:

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@lieutenantfloyd

@amysteryspot

[allbark-no-bite]

call it brotherhood (not love).

jake seresin x reader (wc: 6.2k)

summary: jake meets his match in a soldier rather than a sailor. you’re a bit more war torn than he expected, but it’s okay because maybe he is too

warnings: 18+ smut, * graphic descriptions of injuries and death ⚠️

* if you are uncomfortable with this, please don’t read

author’s note: spoiler alert, i know this isn’t the Jake fic that you’ve all been wanting but i swear that one is in the works. i’m about to go back to school and wanted to get this out there for y’all :) (ps i apologize for the lazy ending)

————————————————————————

"At ease, gentlemen —And woman," Admiral Simpson adds after a moment, shooting an uncharacteristically apprehensive look in Phoenix's direction. Payback snorts at his hasty correction, and Jake is surprised when the admiral doesn't fix him with a nasty look.

If the man's cursory show of inclusion perturbs the female pilot, she doesn't show it, and instead she takes a seat with all the rest of them. Jake turns back towards the front of the ready room, sinking down into his chair just a bit, toothpick clenched between his teeth as he waits for the admiral to address them.

However routine, this training meeting was a bit out of left field, especially for a Sunday afternoon. The Dagger squad typically had one weekly, but it was usually led by Maverick and much more informal. That wasn't to say that seeing Beau was surprising, but the man usually steered clear of the wayward captain and left him to his own devices when it came to training the Daggers.

Today the captain sits in the ready room beside the rest of the pilots. Jake watches as Bradley sends his godfather an inquisitive brow from across the room, to which the older man just shrugs. Interesting.

Cyclone clears his throat. "Good afternoon. I apologize for keeping you all, but I promise this will only take a minute of your time. As I'm sure you are all aware, the United States Department of Defense takes immense pride in maintaining one of the most well integrated military forces in the world. It's our job to work closely with other service members to ensure their safety and the safety of our nation." He pauses. "As experienced as you all are, your time here at Topgun has not reflected that."

Jake's brow furrows, his tongue worrying at the toothpick clenched between his teeth as he listens to the admiral go on. Javy shoots him a look but Jake stares ahead, waiting for Beau to continue.

"The permanent installment of your squad here at Miramar was to create a tightly knit group of elite fighter pilots who would be available at a moment's notice, and however successful that may have been, I cannot neglect the fact that comfort builds complacency. Later today, a squad of U.S. Army soldiers will be arriving to aide in your training for the next six weeks. The integration of mixed branch training units has been widely effective around the country, and it's about time we do the same here at Miramar."

With that, the screen positioned on the wall behind him lights up, displaying enlarged headshots of about eight soldiers. The first seven are males of varying ages, but none older than probably thirty. Jake quickly skims over their names and credentials, but when he gets to the last profile, his eyes stop.

The last solider is the only female projected on the screen, but even so she stands out as compared to all the other members of her squad. He can't quite put his finger on why though.

She's uncharacteristically pretty. And by that he means that to most, her appearance would be inherently off putting— even without the straight-mouthed scowl on her face. She's got a square, almost masculine like jawline that hardens her features considerably. Her hair is light, worn from spending too much time in the sun regardless of however dark it may have been naturally. The same goes for her skin, which is comparably bronze in contrast to the tan line on her forehead, he would assume from wearing a patrol cap out in the field.

Her eyes are wild.

And that's when it hits him.

She'd been all over the news just a few months ago. Something about a patrol gone wrong out in the Middle East, which ultimately turned into a high stakes rescue mission to extract the surviving soldiers. They went in hoping to bring back nine men and came out with one. Apparently they didn't even get to recover the bodies.

Jake can't imagine what that'll do to a person.

Before he can stare at her profile any longer, Cyclone quickly clicks off the projection and the image disappears. This time he appears almost nervous as he stares back at them. "These soldiers are recently returning from a deployment in the Middle East, so I trust that you all will do your best to make them feel welcome. If none of you have any questions, that is all. You're dismissed."

---

The following morning, the Jake receives word from Maverick that the Admiral wants to see him in his office. It's not a strange request but certainly raises Jake's attention as to why specifically he was needed.

Upon entering the room, Jake finds not only the Admiral but Maverick and another female that he's yet to have seen before. All heads turn towards him when he enters, as if he were interrupting something. Immediately, Jake snaps to attention, his heels clicking together and his fingers brushing his brow with a sharpness that would make the academy proud.

Cyclone nods in his direction, acknowledging Jake's customary greeting and dismissing him with the notion. "Lt. Seresin," he begins, gesturing to the female standing across the room. "This is Lt. (L/n). She's uh—a member of the squad that I briefed you on yesterday."

He hadn't noticed that she was wearing Army OCPs but he connects the dots as soon as the admiral mentions her name. He remembers reading it on the projector during the meeting.

Rather than introducing herself, the soldier stands rigidly across from him, her arms folded in front of her chest with a look on her face that Jake can only describe as fucking pissed. Unsure of what to do but aware from personal experience with Phoenix that he shouldn't try to cross any unknown boundaries, Jake settles for offering her a respectful nod. She glares back at him.

"You're two of our only service members with active combat experience," Cyclone continues, obviously ignoring the girl's crossed disposition. "I'm hoping that you and Lt. (L/n) can find some common ground. Perhaps it would do you both some good to—"

"Respectfully, sir, if I wanted to vent to someone about my feelings, I'd go see a shrink," the woman growls. "I recommend you do the same, Lt. Seresin." Her tone makes Jake's brow raise slightly in surprise. No one talks to an admiral like that, not even Pete Mitchell.

"Lt. (L/n)," Cyclone snaps. "That's quite enough."

This time, she rolls her eyes with a scoff. "You can't just—"

"Get out."

She clamps her jaw shut but doesn't budge from where her feet are planted in the ground.

"I said, Get. Out," Cyclone reiterates.

The eyes that had caught Jake's attention in the first place fix the admiral with a chilling stare. To Jake, there's something familiar in those eyes. Some sort of unmistakably justifiable rage that runs deeper than just being dismissed from the conversation. Jake watches, his breath stalled as she sets her jaw, unwilling to move, when it hits him. Identical jawlines and untwitching scowls mirror each other.

The illegitimate child of Admiral Beau Simpson stands before him.

He doesn't know how he didn't see it before, granted they don't share a last name, but Jake was aware that the Admiral was divorced, had been for a while. Allegedly he wasn't the marrying type. Jake isn't surprised by the statement. Beau Simpson is a hard man to deal with.

Jake watches in silence as the girl ultimately releases an irritated huff and storms out of the office, slamming the door behind her. He can hear the loud, petulant stomp of her boots as she retreats down the hall. Evidently her looks weren't the only thing that she got from her dad. She had a temper that rivaled even Bradshaw's.

The clearing of the Admiral's throat removes Jake's eyes from the door. "I hope you can forgive my daughter's behavior. Her return to the states has been...difficult."

"I'm sure difficult is the way she would describe you too sir," Maverick jokes.

Cyclone fixes him with a perturbed glare but decidedly ignores his comment in favor of addressing Jake. "Lt. (L/n)'s squadron was ambushed six months ago. Just about everything that could have gone wrong went wrong and she was the only survivor. As her father, I wanted her to accept the Purple Heart and retire." He gestures flippantly towards the door. "Obviously that's not what she did."

Jake speaks for the first time since he entered the room. "Respectfully, sir, I don't blame her. I'm taking this career to the grave. I'm sure both your daughter and Captain Mitchell can agree," he adds glancing over at his instructor.

Before Maverick can voice his agreement, the admiral cuts him off.

"As I'm sure Captain Mitchell can attest to, as her father, I'm just trying to look out for her."

With his preexisting connection to Rooster, the godson that he would risk his career to protect, Maverick has no room to disagree with the admiral. For once, the captain, who usually always has something to say, stands with his palms folded behind his back and keeps his mouth shut.

"As I was saying," Cyclone continues, taking a seat behind his desk and kicking back as if to signal that he's won the conversation. "It is my hope that given your own—" the admiral hesitates for just a moment too long for Jake's liking "—personal experience, you'll be able to get through to her."

Jake swallows and hopes that he doesn't look as uneasy as the insinuation makes him feel. He has to take a moment to reassure himself that the psych unit has repeatedly cleared him for duty and that no one's threatening to take his wings away.

The nights that he wakes up, drenched in sweat, with his fingers wrapped around imaginary joysticks hard enough to make his palms bleed are few and far in between these days. And even those he's gotten good enough at faking like they don't bother him because he hasn't failed a psych evaluation in months.

It doesn't mean he likes to talk about it or that he won't hear the fear in Rooster's voice if he does.

But he's more scared of not flying than anything, so all Jake does is nod and offer a dry, "I'll do my best, sir."

———

PTSD or modern day shell-shock is what they like to call it. You call it waiting on the other shoe to drop.

Because there is always another shoe.

The slam of a beer bottle down on the bar top lights your nerves up like nothing else. It sends your heart straight to your stomach and makes your palms sweat like when you miss a step on the stairs and for a split second, you think you're going to die. You never do of course, but your body is hard wired that way to keep you alive.

There's a flaw in your system that hasn't been right since the east.

You knew that a popular naval bar on a Friday night wasn't the best place for you these days but your nerves had been yearning for an ice cold beer and fuck all if you weren't going to get one. The alcohol would soothe your nerves anyhow.

But after thirty minutes of waiting on said beer, you were beginning to lose your patience. Normally you weren't bothered by that kind of thing. The place was obviously busy and the lone woman behind the bar was doing her best to satisfy the flock of servicemen that only seemed to accumulate with every beer that she handed out.

Just when you're about to give up and leave, a large hand covers your lower back, pressing you forwards through the crowd and toward the bar top.

"Two more on me, please, Penny."

The voice belongs to the tall man standing behind you. He's removed his firm, but respectfully placed palm from your back and is now leaning over you to accept the two dripping bottles of beer. It doesn't take you long to recognize the green of his eyes from a few days prior.

"My dad didn't put you up to this did he?" you ask, somewhat reluctantly taking the bottle that he offers you. It's finger numbing cold, just how you like it.

He kind of just slowly smiles and shakes his head.

Immediately you feel like a jerk. You sigh, dropping your shoulders and smile softly back. "Sorry. That was rude."

"No, ma'am, he didn't. Just had to find out if you smiled like that all the time."

The part of you that's a little bit of a bitch makes you clench your teeth together, tightening the smile that was once spread across your lips. "I'm not looking for that kind of thing right now," is all you say.

You want to tell him that you used to not be so mean.

At the realization that his words had the exact opposite effect of what he was going for, the guy graciously extends his hand. "Look I don't mean to bother you, I just wanted to say hi."

Despite not being keen on his advances, you aren't going to be rude so you accept his outstretched hand. You're surprised by his gentleness. It's not the rough, over-masculine shake you are expecting.

"Lieutenant (Y/n) (L/n)."

"I know your name," he admits with a light, almost embarrassed laugh. "I think everybody in here knows your name."

Your skin prickles. You stare at him stoney faced, bracing yourself for what's going to come out of his mouth. "Why's that?"

The guy—Lt. Seresin—you're remembering, shrugs. "I mean, you're quite the story back here in the states. A bit of a ghost story, I must say."

Ghost story is right. Because who survives that? How the fuck does a twenty-two year old girl survive an outnumbered ambush and not eight men with years of experience? Not someone who deserves to be called a hero, that's for sure.

You're trying your best to keep your cool with him. You know that you're in a public space and he's just being friendly. You used to be so good at this kind of thing, the flirting and small talk.

The thought occurs to you that maybe this is what you need. Maybe this will make you feel normal again. You need to feel normal again.

Maybe that is why you let him lean in closer, buy you another drink when yours runs dry, and another one after that. Maybe that is why you make an effort to laugh when he does, and you close your eyes when he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You let out the breath that's been tightening your ribcage and do your best to smile. "Thank you for the beer. You didn't have to do that." You hope the words sound as genuine as they're intended to.

He smiles back like he's supposed to, all polite and inherently forgiving of your original attitude. You catch onto the way it doesn't quite reach his eyes. You're not sure why but it makes you think maybe he's just a bit sad too.

Maybe that is why he lets you wordlessly take his hand and lead him to the back of the bar. Maybe that is why he lets you sink to your knees on the cold, sticky tiles of the men's bathroom floor, his hands already fumbling to unbuckle his belt.

It smells like beer and piss, and you don't even wait for him to get fully hard before you take him in your mouth, your nose buried into his pelvis, where it smells like sweat. It's all wrong and right at the same time, and he won't ask you to stop. He just curls his fingers into a fistful of your hair, pinpricks stinging at your scalp the same way tears sting at your eyes.

He—Jake—he'd told you a while ago, has a pretty cock. At least as pretty as cocks go. Pink and ruddy at the tip, where it mushroomed beautifully. Almost dauntingly long but not grossly so with a throbbing vein on the underside. You run your tongue along it and he muffles a whimper, his fingers wrapping harder around your hair in an effort not to buck up into your mouth. At least he's a gentleman about it.

He's heavy and twitching in your mouth. You feel heavy. He is standing above you, a harsh line of a man against the buzzing bathroom light. You remind yourself to breathe through your nose and he punches himself further, the head of his cock skimming the back of your throat.

You swallow around him, trying to hold together what little is left of your remaining sense of self. It's been a while since you've been so careless as to place yourself in someone else's hands, rolled over and showed your belly to someone who could easily take advantage of you.

Your jaw aches, uncomfortable and familiar, like something you don't want to remember. Tears well up behind your eyes, the threat of an unwanted but unknown feeling looming just out of reach. Jake's hand in your hair hold your head firmly against his pelvis, hips rocking up into your mouth. He sighs like he can finally breathe.

You can't breathe.

You try to and something rasps inside of you, choking. The feeling that had been looming threateningly sparkles through you. Panic.

You know that he tries to settle you, does his best to wipe the tears leaking from your eyes with his thumbs and murmurs softly to you. "Breathe. It's okay, breathe for me."

You can't. You can't breathe.

Your head is pounding and suddenly you aren't kneeling on the bathroom floor of the bar. You're on the ground, crying, screaming like a wounded animal and no one is coming to help. You can almost feel the dirt under your knees, taste the blood in your mouth.

"Y/N, you have to breathe."

Someone's grabbing you, hauling your useless feet across the floor. Your chest hurts like you've been punched with a bowling ball.

"C'mon, let's get some air."

How you end up outside the bathroom is beside you. All you know is one minute you're dying on your knees back in the desert and the next you're being sat down on the back steps of the bar. 

The cool air of the San Diego evening brings you back. That and the press of a cup of ice water to your lips, the condensation dripping from the glass and rolling down your throat. You swallow, letting the cool liquid soothe your burning throat.

You're aware of Jake sitting down beside you, close enough to touch if he wanted to but still keeping his distance. You can feel his eyes on you, watching carefully for a moment before he turns to stare out at the not so distance shoreline.

Your stomach feels odd, like you might be sick.

He probably thinks you're insane. You would think the same. But if he's dying to ask what the hell that was, he's doing a good job of hiding it.

How do you tell him that sometimes you think that you should have died, that sometimes the memories almost kill you?

"I hid."

He looks up from peeling off the label around the neck of his bottle. "What?"

You swallow, trying to collect yourself before your words fail you.

"I hid. A—After I was shot, I didn't get back up. I crawled under the humvee and... and I just laid there. I laid there and I closed my eyes and I prayed. I prayed that they wouldn't notice me lying under there or that they if they did, they would think I was already dead."

A mixture of sweat and dust burns your eyes. When you blink, you can feel the sandy grit trapped between them. You squeeze them shut while trying to swallow back the dryness of your throat in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort, but it doesn't do much. An unwarranted tear escapes and runs down the track of your nose.

With your rifle held closely to your chest, you let it slide down and collect on the bow of your lip. It joins the puddle of sweat that has already accumulated there. Out here, the sun cooks you alive. You swear it's a constant one thousand degrees. The twenty pounds of kevlar doesn't help.

Dirt kicks up beside you and gravel showers your helmet as a round of bullets buries themselves into the ground a mere six inches from your face. You hardly flinch.

Somebody is screaming. The sound of machine gun fire is ringing in your ears. Somebody is screaming.

"(L/N), C'MON. LET'S MOVE."

It's Cain. He's grabbing the strap of your kevlar vest and yanking you to your feet. You scramble after him, desperate not to be left behind. Bullets explode at your feet the moment the two of you emerge from the concealment of the dirt mound. Fear makes you run faster.

You spot Manny crouched behind the tire of the SUV to your right. He's firing rounds into the brush. You can tell that he's bleeding from a wound to his arm and you're about to veer off to help him when his head jerks backwards, the scattered remains of his brain plastered onto the white side of the truck.

You stop running, the words caught in your throat.

"RUN," Cain screams. He'd backtracked a few paces and grabs hold of your vest once again to drag you behind a second SUV. You stumble over him, falling haphazardly onto your rear once he lets go of you. He immediately turns to fire over the hood of the truck, and the bullets hitting the truck stop momentarily.

Clawing at the gravel on the ground, you hurry to scramble to your feet. Your head is pounding, your mouth dry and gritty. Huffing, you glance between Cain, who is fumbling to reload his magazine, and the crumpled figure of Manny a few yards away. You can only hope Ronny is still out there somewhere.

Before you can even try to locate him or any other members of the squad, movement to your left springs your muscles into action. You slam your back into the side door of the SUV just as a round of bullets pelt the spot where you were standing just moments before. Automatically, you raise your gun, returning the fire. There are a few more shots fired in retaliation, but they stop a second later.

Once you're sure they're subdued, you lower your gun, breathing hard. There's so much smoke and debris in the air that you can hardly even see Cain ten feet away. He's shuffling towards you in a low crouch.

"Let's move, (L/n). They know where we are. We've got to find different cover."

You nod, your finger still pressed tightly to the trigger of your weapon. You drop into a crouch and follow behind him as he creeps towards the back of the truck. He pauses a moment, scanning the landscape before looking back at you. His blue eyes are a startling contrast to the dirt and sweat covering his tanned face. He lifts his gun in the direction of a flipped humvee about fifty yards away. His mouth moves in a silent command.

One.

Two.

Three.

The gunfire starts up as soon as the two of you spring from behind the vehicle. You can hear the whizzing of bullets as they just barely miss your head. All you can do is pray you don't trip as you struggle to keep up with Cain. Your lungs burn and your boots feel impossibly heavy.

The terrain is barren but the ground loose, and rocks threaten to upend your footing, slipping out from beneath your feet as the two of you flee towards the vehicle.

30 yards from the humvee, Cain tumbles to the ground with a broken cry. The bullet catches him in the thigh, stopping him mid stride. He hits the ground hard.

Without even thinking, you skid to a stop. Bullets spray the ground around you. Somehow you're more afraid of leaving him than being shot.

"Go!" he yells at you, already trying to shove you away. "Go, I'm coming!"

Already, there's a lake of blood beneath him. You step in it and the ground squelches under your boot. Crimson gushes from his left thigh, effectively saturating the fabric of his pants. His face is terrifyingly pale. The bullet must have hit his femoral artery.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Like hell," you snap at him, your pervious fear suddenly boiling into the purest form of anger you've ever felt. Angry for being in this situation in the first place. Angry that of all people, Cain is going to die.

It's terrifying how quickly the realization comes to you, how easily you accept it as the truth. There's already too much blood. Without a tourniquet, he'll bleed out in minutes and there's not quite time for that.

"Leaving him behind wasn't an option. It never even occurred to me that it was," you confess, as if saying it aloud will somehow explain away this title of heroism that everyone wants to pin on you. "Dead or alive, he was coming with me."

You shoulder your rifle and use both hands to grab onto the straps of his vest, hefting him backwards towards the truck.

He must clamp onto his bottom lip to stop the scream that threatens to escape because the noise that comes from his mouth is garbled.

You drag Cain about ten feet before you realize how just heavy he is. There's sweat leaking into your eyes and all you can see is the bloody lake that's left behind as you drag him through the dust. Cain's gone quiet, his head lulled to the side, eyes almost shut.

"C'mon, Cain. We're almost there."

His boot snags on a rock, and when you tug him free, he doesn't utter a word.

Something inside of you knows he's gone, was gone long before you started dragging him. You're still ten yards from the SUV.

POP. POP. POP.

You pause, your eyes fixed ahead of you. "Have you ever been shot before?"

Beside you, Jake shakes his head.

"It feels like someone has shot a bowling ball into your chest. Knocks the breath right out of you."

Pain explodes straight through your ribcage. Your vision clouds and you're vaguely aware of your knees buckling beneath you.

When you come to, all of the wind has been knocked out of you from hitting the ground so hard and your immediate reflex is to suck in a reviving breath. Instead all that comes out is a gurgle, the tell tale sign that your chest cavity is filling with blood.

You swallow, looking off at the dark shoreline of the beach, watching as the waves crash against the sand. "I knew that I wasn't dead yet—I did— I just—" Your throat constricts and when you speak again your voice is quieter. "He was already gone so maybe a part of me had already gone with him."

Jake nods slowly, as if putting together the pieces that you're laying down bit by bit. Somehow his green eyes have remained soft this entire time and maybe that's where you find the courage to continue.

Lifting your head, you crane your neck to see the damage, but the thick layer of kevlar strapped to your chest obstructs your view of the lower half of your body. Grunting in frustration, you reach blindly in the direction that the pain is radiating from. Numbly, your fingers find the gushing hole in your side. The bullet had buried itself in the exposed inch of your stomach between your belt and your vest.

There mustn't be an exit wound because there isn't a ton of blood surrounding you. If the wet cough you emit is anything to go by, it's probably pooling in your abdominal cavity instead.

You're going to die.

"I don't know how long I laid there," you admit. "I knew that the clock was ticking, had been since the moment I hit the ground. It was only a matter of time before I blacked out or bled out... I guess I was just waiting to see which one came first."

The scattered rounds hitting the ground around you become muffled background noise as the lull of unconsciousness begins to sweep over you, dulling the world as you know it. Through the haze of your fading senses, your eyes fall on Cain's motionless figure a few feet beside you.

He's lying face up, his desert tan uniform seeped a muddy crimson. You'd known he was dead a while ago. Still, you carried him. He'd have done the same for you. He was your brother, dead or alive.

Blood bubbles from your nose as you struggle to keep yourself breathing. The fact that you have to remind yourself to do that isn't a promising sign. Your body is shutting down, doing anything it can to keep your heart pumping, even if it means shutting down everything else.

Somewhere through the dullness, you hear Cain's voice. MOVE, (L/N).

You close your eyes, trying to picture his face from what had been just a few minutes ago. You remember the urgency in his blue eyes, the intensity of his fear overridden by adrenaline. How had that been only moments ago?

MOVE, (L/N).

"I—I heard his voice," you state, your tone not open for discussion. "Not the gun fire, not God, not anyone else's. I heard his voice."

So many people had tried to convince you otherwise, tried to tell you that it was because of the shock and your brain was shutting down, that you were hearing things. But you know what you heard.

"He saved my life, Jake."

You can see the gears turning in his head, the question carefully forming on his lips. "Were you two— I mean was he—"

It's the first time you have to suck back tears, your chest rattling with a longing emptiness as you fight the urge to cry. Memories of his wild blue eyes and wide smile that could only ever mean he was misbehaving flash through your mind.

You met Sergeant Anthony Cain not long after you commissioned as a Lieutenant. You were still a green officer when you were charged with your first platoon and given orders to deploy out East. You were scared as hell and Cain was your saving grace. He came in as if he'd always known you needed him and the rest was history.

There was never any question about intentions or commitment to each other. Cain was as honest as they came and you left it at that. You never imagined that's where your story would begin and end.

"I don't know, Jake. We didn't get that far."

Forcing your eyes open, you access the area around you. The sound of enemy fire has slowed but that doesn't mean movement won't trigger a return of bullets your way. Still, you know they'll be looking for survivors once the dust settles, and you don't want to be around when they do.

The humvee is only a little over ten yards away. You might would say it was crawling distance if it weren't for the fact that you were actively bleeding out. Even so, you don't really have any other option.

You take as deep of a breath as you can, your chest rasping as you do so, before lifting your right leg and using the weight of it to swing yourself over onto your stomach. Immediately, searing hot pain radiates through your chest and legs. You cry out, curling in on yourself, writhing on the ground like a wounded animal.

Sputtering, trying to breathe through the pain long enough so that you can move, you feel hot tears track down your face. They're tears of insurmountable pain and hopeless desperation.

"All I kept thinking was 'how does anyone survive this?' It was unimaginable, the pain. Looking back now, I don't know how I did it. I don't think I could do it again if I had to," you admit.

Softly, as not to scare you, you feel the gentle weight of Jake's palm on your knee. "You won't have to," he promises. "But you did it. You survived."

You stare down at his hand on your knee.

With a trembling, blood stained hand, you reach out in front of you and dig your fingers into the ground. Heaving, you draw yourself forward, your legs dragging limply through the dust. It takes an unimaginable amount of strength to pull yourself even six inches.

Sniffling back tears and out of breath, you curl your fingers into the ground and drag yourself forward again. This time, you probably only move half as far. You have to fight the urge to just lay your cheek against the ground and cry.

You do this again and again, keeping one hand pressed into the gushing wound at your side while the other drags you forward. Your lower half has become increasingly heavier with each passing minute, your legs nothing but dead weight to pull along. You don't think you could move them if you tried.

It takes you forty minutes to drag yourself to the humvee. By the time you get yourself fully under the abandoned vehicle, your fingers are torn and bleeding, the tips ripped open and embedded with bits of gravel.

Your muscles collapse the very second you give them the chance. Your forehead drops down to rest against the ground, and you finally have a moment to shudder out a sob. Your throat is dry and cracked, and dust coats the inside of your mouth. You're dimly aware that your breaths are dangerously shallow. You just know that you're miserably nauseous and each passing moment is more unbearable than the next.

You turn your own palm over, staring at the scars of your ruined finger tips, scars that tell a story of how you survived. They're ugly, and you wish you didn't have to look at the all of the time. At least your torso is mostly hidden. You've moved to a beach town and will never be able to put on a swimsuit.

Jake’s eyes follow yours and after a moment he flips his palm over, his fingers spread and inviting. His hands are large and calloused from years of flying. There are fingernail divots in his palm.

Almost shyly, his green eyes meet yours. You see a bit of that sadness you saw earlier. “I know it’s not my job to be your shrink or whatever,” he adds with a laugh and you can’t help but laugh with him. “But you’re not alone. We’re all a bit fucked up if you haven’t noticed.” He shrugs. “It comes with the job.”

You can’t help yourself. You trace a finger over the scarred palm of his hand. “My dad would disagree.”

Jake is fighting the urge to close his palm around yours, not wanting to overstep, and so he’s pleased when you intertwine your fingers with his.

“Family dinner must be interesting.”

Jake came from a military family himself and so he knows how deep the ties run. His old man was a sailor and so he knew better than to come home sporting anything other than his dress whites.

You laugh out loud because he’s not wrong at all. Jake squeezes your fingers in response. His hand feels good in yours. Safe and heavy in the way a padlock feels. Like he’s not going anywhere.

“It’s not all ‘Go Army, Beat Navy’ believe it or not. Don’t get me wrong, I was raised a Navy brat and I have a hell of a lot of respect for my old man, but at the end of the day, I had to choose myself. I couldn’t do that with him watching over my shoulder. The Army’s been both the greatest and the worst thing that could have happened to me,” you confess.

Jake hums, dare you say almost disbelievingly.

“What?”

“A few weeks here and you’ll change your mind. No one does it like the Navy does.”

It’s your turn to make a noise of disbelief.

“I guess you’ll just have to impress me, Flyboy.”

Jake squeezes your hand again. “Oh I plan to.”

[callsign-dexter]

Knight in a Hawaiian Shirt 18+

Request: Ok, I saw Top Gun Maverick again what feels like the 100th time, and I still love it so much ! It gets me goosebumps during so many scenes !

So I was wondering if you'd consider a Bradley Bradshaw imagine where he lays his eyes on a girl at the Hard Deck, who currently has a nasty conversation with a weird guy and Bradley notices how uncomfortable she feels, so as the gentlemen he is, he saves the girl, acting like her boyfriend and she's more than happy about that. After that they meet up regularly and she even stays over at his apartment from time to time (just cuddling) and one night as he holds her close, whispers in her ear that he loves her and thinks he's asleep, but you hear him, kiss him and if you like some smut, but if not, then just even more cuddles 😊

Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut

Masterlist

A/N: @gunsandguardians and @imagine-all-the-fandoms prepare yourselves for some Bradley Bradshaw smut!

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw was having a day, no scratch that, Bradley was having a rough week. His jet had several malfunctions, he had meetings non-stop, Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson was breathing down his neck to get certain numbers and data, and to top it all off he and the rest of The Daggers took on a teaching position and the new Top Gun cadets were putting them through the ringer. He had to teach a multitude of young versions of Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell and Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. Also, all the females in the class were flirting with him and it was making his jaw tick and teeth clench. It was Friday which meant that it was time to let the load off and relax. Everyone had decided to go to The Hard Deck and he agreed very quickly and now he was leaning against the wall on his fourth beer of the night and he could practically feel the tension melt away. He had showered at the base getting rid of the smell of jet fuel and had changed into his typical Hawaiian shirt, white undershirt, jeans, and shoes. “What a day.” Jake said coming up to him, usually he was cocky and could match the energy but even he was admitting it was a tough day. After the mission the tension seemed to die down between them and they actually became friends.

“Day? What a week.” Bradley said, taking a drink and Jake nodded.

“You got that right.” Jake said 

“Bagman get over here so I can beat your ass at pool.” The voice of none other than Natasha 'Phoenix’ Trace said.

“You’re going down.” Jake said and started to walk over to her after patting Bradley on the shoulder. As the atmosphere around him grew into the usual Friday night crowd. He was tending to blend in with the crowd not looking to hook with anyone but that doesn’t mean he could still look around. 

“Hey.” Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd said to him and he was turning to look at him.

“You just got in here?” Bradley asked and Bob nodded.

“Yea, I needed to talk to Maverick and Cyclone about taking maternity leave.” Bob said he was married to his high school sweetheart and they were expecting a little boy. Finding out he was married shocked everyone.

“How is Marie and the baby doing?” Bradley asked

“She’s doing well. Ready to be done with the pregnancy especially since it has been so hot. Baby is healthy and stirring up trouble. I won’t be staying long.” Bob said

“Good. Yea I might not be staying long either. It’s been a tough week.” Bradley said and Bob nodded. Bob was then being pulled away by Phoenix which once again left Bradley alone. Throughout the night everyone had come up and talked to him and he mingled around. Currently everyone was crowded around the pool table and dart board. As they talked and mingled with each other and other patrons in the bar. At some point Natasha came over and started talking to him about a show that they were both watching. As he listened and gave input a distressed female voice, yours, and a very drunk voice came to his ears and he looked over in that direction. 

When he looked over, he was quickly breath taken at how beautiful you were. He wondered if his father, Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw, felt about his mother, Carole Bradshaw. As he was admiring you the more of the conversation he heard and the more he concentrated on your body language and face. He could see how uncomfortable he was. Being the gentleman, he was raised to be he wasn't going to stand for a female to be harassed and was surprised he hadn't had the bell rang or thrown out but after seeing the crowd in the bar he understood it would be hard to keep up. “Are you even listening?” She asked, snapping her fingers in front of his face and he turned to look at her.

“No sorry.” He said and she looked to where he was looking at.

“She's cute but I don't like how close that man is. She's very uncomfortable.” Natasha said and he nodded.

“I'm going to go do something about it.” He said and she smiled.

“Go be her knight in a Hawaiian shirt.” She said, pushing him. 

“I plan on it. I'll talk to you later.” He said and she nodded and he began his walk over to you. As he got closer the better, he could hear and it made his blood boil.

“How about me and you go back to my place and we can have some fun.” The man smirked.

“I'm not interested. Leave me alone, please.” You asked, trying to look for an escape.

“Oh, come on. I'm a lot of fun I promise. I can leave you satisfied.” He said

“I told you I'm not interested. I need to get back to my friends.” You said 

“I think they'll understand.” He said as he touched your arm and you flinched and was about to say something when Bradley beat you to it.

“They you are, Babe. I've been looking everywhere for you.” Bradley said and both you and the man looked up at him as he slung and arm around your shoulders.

To be honest you didn't want to come out tonight but it was your best friend’s, Shiloh, birthday and he wanted to go bar hopping. He begged you and after so long you finally agreed so you, him, his fiancé, Blake, and 3 other friends, Makayla, Rebecca, and Ruby, went on a bar hopping spree. As the night grew and you had been to several bars you actually started to ease into it and have fun. After visiting 3 other bars, you had barely drunk anything, so he decided to go to a cute little bar on the beach. He had about it and talked highly of it and what really sold you was the fact that it was a Navy bar, something about men in uniform did something to you. You had just arrived and had made your way over to a table and looked around. “This is cute.” Shiloh said, looking around.

“It is! Oh look, men in uniform!” Rebecca said practically squealing. 

“Would you keep it down? You'll get their attention.” Makayla said blushing but she couldn't deny that they were all good looking. You scanned the group but one caught your eye. He had a mustache and was in a Hawaiian shirt instead of the Khaki uniform. As you stared and daydreamed Blake spoke up. 

“I'm getting drinks. Everyone want something?” Blake asked

“Yes!” The group said and you nodded. Everyone told him what they wanted and he was off. It wasn't a few minutes later and he was coming back with drinks in hand. As the night went on you engaged with the group topic at hand and your attention forgot all about the man in a Hawaiian shirt. 

The 6 of you stayed longer at this bar, which you learned was named The Hard Deck, then any of the others but you weren't complaining. As the night went on you needed to use the bathroom so you nudged the closest person to you which happened to be Blake. “Hey I'm going to the bathroom; I'll be right back.” You said and he smiled and nodded.

“We'll be here.” He said and you chuckled and then left. You squeezed your way through and to the bathroom. You got in and to a stall and quickly did your business. Once you were done you walked out and washed your hands and headed out. You didn't get far from the bathroom before some sleazy drunk man was trapping you. 

“Hey beautiful lady.” He said and the stench of alcohol hit your nose and made it scrunch up.

“Please leave me alone.” You said trying to push past him.

“Oh, come on. I just want to get to know you better.” He said now smiling and it made your stomach flip.

“Please leave me alone. I need to get back to my friends.” You said and then his hand came to touch your arm and you tensed up.

“How about me and you go back to my place and we can have some fun.” The man smirked.

“I'm not interested. Leave me alone, please.” You asked, trying to look for an escape.

“Oh, come on. I'm a lot of fun I promise. I can leave you satisfied.” He said

“I told you I'm not interested. I need to get back to my friends.” You said 

“I think they'll understand.” He said as he touched your arm and you flinched but he wasn't paying attention to it.

“They you are, Babe. I've been looking everywhere for you.” A male voice said and both you and the man looked up at him as he slung and arm around your shoulders. He leaned down to your ear “Just go along with it.” He said and kissed your temple.

“Who the fuck are you?” The drunk man, you didn't even know his name, said.

“I'm her boyfriend. I've been looking for her everywhere. I got out of work late and was late getting here.” He said the tension you had melted away.

“I'm sorry I didn't wait for you. I wanted to get here and get a good table.” You said 

“It's ok, Babe.” He said and then turned towards the man who looked pissed. “I think it's time for you to leave. Leave before I have Penny ring the bell and you have to pay for everyone's round.” He said.

“Fucking bitch.” The drunk man said. 

“Penny!” The mustache man said and Penny looked over “Ring the bell. We have someone being disrespectful to a woman.” He said and she smiled and nodded. The sound of the bell rang and cheers erupted throughout the bar. The drunk man grumbled and walked off.

“Thank you so much.” You said looking up at him while moving to be in front of him and he looked down at you and smiled.

“It was my pleasure. I'm Bradley.” He said 

“I'm Y/N. I'm here with friends that decided to go bar hopping for another's birthday.” You said and Bradley smiled.

“Your group picked a good place to stop. The Hard Deck is a very nice place to be.” Bradley said and you nodded.

“I can agree with that. We've stayed here the longest out of all of them. I can't thank you enough for saving me from that man.” You said 

“I couldn't let a beautiful girl like you be harassed. My mom would beat my ass if I did.” He said and you chuckled. 

“Your Mom sounds like a smart woman.” You said

“She was. I lost her when I was 18.” He said 

“Oh gosh. I'm so sorry.” You said and he smiled. 

“I want to take you out on a date.” He said and you smiled.

“I would like that.” You said pulling out your phone and handing it to him and he was quick to grab his. You put your number in his phone and he put his in yours. 

“Pick you up at 7 tomorrow night?” He asked and you smiled up at him.

“That'll be perfect. I really need to get back to my friends.” You said and he smiled and nodded. 

“Can I walk you over to them? Just so nobody tries anything unwanted.” He asked and you smiled and he was already winning you over.

“I would really like that.” You said 

“Lead the way.” He said and so you did. 

“There you are! We were worried but then I saw you with this hunk of a man,” Shiloh said visibly checking him out but so was Blake “I knew you were good.” He said and you laughed.

“This here is Bradley and he saved me from a drunk man and got Penny to ring the bell on him.” You said

“Well, it's nice to meet the man that saved our girl.” Blake said and you blushed and then introduced everyone to him.

“Nice to meet you all.” He said 

“Yo Bradshaw!” Another male voice yelled and everyone looked over. 

“Now I have to go. I'll pick you up at 7 tomorrow night.” Bradley said the last part was directed at you.

“I'll text you the address.” You said

“Sounds perfect.” He said and then he was leaving as he was back with his group. You turned to yours and everyone was smiling.

“Oh, shut up.” You said and everyone laughed. The rest of the night consisted of you and Bradley sneaking glances at each other and blushing while looking down and smiling, Bradley would throw winks at you occasionally. You couldn't wait until tomorrow night.

The next day you were anxious about your date with Bradley that night. When you had gotten home the night before you sent him a quick text thanking him for saving you and your address. As the day grew on leading up to the night you were trying to figure out what to wear and sending text messages to everyone. 

3 hrs before the date there was a knock on the door and you were quick to go and open it. Behind the door was Blake and Shiloh. “We've come to help.” Blake said.

“I really don't need help.” You said but they looked you up and down and Shiloh pulled a face.

“Oh, Sweetie, you need us.” He said

“Is what I'm wearing that bad?” You asked

“It's not great.” He said as he led you to your closest and sat you down as he started to go through your closet with the occasional ‘no’ ‘definitely not’ ‘why do you still have this?’ you just sat back and smirked and chuckled at your best friend’s tactics. You loved him dearly and trusted him full heartedly. 

“You helped me pick some of this out. Just remember that.” You said and he stopped and looked at you.

“Yes, I remember. Everything is great but not for a first date with a hunk of a handsome man.” He said and you looked over at Blake.

“Do you hear your fiancée?” You asked

“I do and I agree.” He said and your mouth dropped open and you let a little scoff but it was a playful one. 

“Oh, this is perfect!” Shiloh finally said and pulled out a cute shirt that complimented your eyes. He held it up to you and nodded in approval “Yup this is the one.” He said and then handed it to you and then he went to your chest of drawers and started to root around them until he found a nice pair of jeans and then grabbed some comfortable shoes. 

“What would I do without you?” You asked

“Be unfashionable.” He said and you chuckled. You got dressed in your bathroom and then came out and they were both giving their approval. By the time you were done it was 7 and there was a knock on the door. Before you could even get out of the bedroom Blake was rushing to get the door. You could hear them laugh and talk and then you were walking out.

“You look beautiful.” He said 

“Thank you. You look handsome.” You said and he smiled.

“Thank you.” He said 

“Alright you two. Don't stay out too late and don't get into trouble. Call if you need anything.” Shiloh said as he was ushering the two of you out and closing the door behind you both.

“Sorry about them. I wasn't planning on them being there.” You said as you both walked to his Bronco.

“Nonsense. It's nice to have friends like them two.” He said 

“Yea they're pretty great. So, where are we headed?” You asked

“I hope you like Thai food. There is a place that has really good curry and pad thai.” He said 

“Thai food is one of my favorites.” You said as he drove to the restaurant. The car ride was filled with small talk and getting to know each other. When you arrived, he parked and was quick to get out to open your door. “Thank you.” You said.

“Anything for a beautiful woman like you.” He said and you blushed like mad. You both walked in and he gave them his name and you both were quickly being led to a table outside.

“I love the smell of the ocean and the sea breeze.” You said and he smiled.

“I love it too.” He said

“It seems we have a lot in common.” You said and he chuckled and nodded.

“It seems like it.” He said the date went smoothly. You both ordered the same thing and the same drink. You both laughed and shared stories until the restaurant started to close and both of you were forced to leave. “Want to walk the beach?” He asked as the sunset and casted a golden glow over everything and made him look much more attractive.

“I would love to.” You said and so the two of you set out walking the beach. Your pinkies touched each other and danced until your hands were coming to hold each other's. Both of you ended up sitting on the beach watching the waves crash into the beach and the moonlight lit everything up. It was a little chilly and he could tell so he brought you into his side. You laid your head on his shoulder testing the waters and when he brought you closer and didn't push you off you knew it was going to be great. It was getting late and you started to yawn.

“Are you ready to go back?” He asked

“Not really but it's getting late.” You said and he smiled. 

“I would love to continue this on another date.” He said and you smiled looking up at him as he looked down at you.

“I would love that.” You said and he was kissing the top of your head. You both got up and headed to his Bronco. He held your head on the way there and held it when he was driving you home. When you arrived at home, he walked you to your door and waited until you were inside before he left. It was dark when you got in which meant that Shiloh and Blake were gone. You smiled to yourself as you changed into something comfy. When you sat on your couch your phone dinged.

Bradley Bradshaw: Had a great time tonight. Can't wait to do it again.

You smiled and giggled and started to text back.

I had a great time too. How about next Saturday?

You didn't have to wait long before he responded.

Bradley Bradshaw: That sounds perfect.

How about a picnic on the beach at sundown maybe in the back of your Bronco?

Bradley Bradshaw: I would love that. Consider it a date.

You giggled and kicked your feet. You couldn't wait until next Saturday. You texted your friends letting them know you were home and that you had a second date and they all texted back in the group chat almost immediately. You answered and when everything seemed to calm down you put your phone next to you and turned on the TV already thinking about what to make.

Saturday rolled around and you were less nervous about this date then the one before and you had to admit to yourself that you were actually starting to fall in love with the mustached Naval Aviator. He has been the perfect gentleman to you and he considers your feelings when it comes to things. Throughout the week you two have been texting nonstop and some late-night phone calls were thrown in there as well and each time he had you blushing like mad and feeling things that no other man has made you feel. Throughout the week you were thinking of what you should bring on this picnic in the back of his prized Bronco. As the two of you talked and what seemed like 100 questions were asked you had some idea what to pack and a lot of it was your favorite foods. 

As the days rolled on and it was getting closer to Saturday you were beginning to feel nervous and maybe second guessing everything but as you talked with him more and more all of those feelings went away. When Saturday rolled around and he was knocking on your door and you answered it the nerves seemed to have gone away fully especially when you saw him standing there with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and your favorite chocolates that you had gone on about and how hard they both were to find. “Hi.” You said breathlessly and he smiled.

“Hi.” He replied back. “These are for you. I know you said they were both hard to find but when you have the right people and they owe you favors you can get them easily.” He rambled on and you just continued to smile and you leaned up and kissed him to get him to stop, sparks flew and you hoped they flew for him too.

“Thank you so much.” You said when you broke away. Then you realized that it was your first actual kiss that you both shared and he had this stunned look of love on his face and in his eyes. 

“You’re very welcome.” He said breathlessly.

“Let me put these up and the flowers in a vase and grab the basket then we can go.” You said and then turned around and walked into the kitchen and he followed and shut the door behind him. You both agreed that you would be the one to make the picnic basket since you knew more about food and how to cook. He did say he could cook but had no clue on what to include so you said that you would handle and boy was he glad you did. He watched you move effortlessly through the kitchen and grab a vase, fill it with water and then cut the flower’s stems and put them in. When you were done you turned to him “Alright, I’m ready to go. Do you care to grab the basket?” You asked and he smiled.

“I would love to do anything for you.” He said and you blushed and he smiled as he grabbed the basket and the both of you headed out of your house making sure to lock it and to his Bronco. He carefully put the basket in the back and opened the door for you and then got into the driver’s side and headed off to the secluded spot on the beach that he loved to go to when he needed to get away. 

“So where are we going?” You asked

“It's a secluded area of the beach that I go to when I need to get away. It’s so peaceful and the sunset is breathtaking.” He said and you smiled already knowing that you’re going to love it. As he drove, music played softly and you both were getting to know each other more. 10 minutes later he was pulling into the spot and then he turned around and backed the Bronco up so you both could sit on the tailgate or in the back like you both planned on it. He helped you up into the back and you got comfortable and then he was falling right behind you. You opened the basket and the both of you got what you wanted out and the date started, well it started when he picked you up but it really started when the sun began to set. You snuggled into him and he embraced it. The date went smoothly and you both were having a great time. The waves crashing against the rocks, the warm sea breeze that was slightly misting, and the music he had softly in the background was making it perfect. You could get used to this.

“This is perfect.” You said and he smiled.

“You’re perfect.” He said looking down at you and looked up at him. The sunset was casting a beautiful glow across his skin and it made him that more irresistible. You don’t know how long you stared at each other but you both were slowly leaning into each other until your lips were touching and once again sparks flew. You two only broke apart when air was needed and then you were turning to look out at the sun setting behind the ocean. The date lasted until the food and drinks ran out and the sun fully set. A lot of laughter filled the night and a lot of talking did as well. All too soon you both were cleaning up and getting back in the front and then he was driving you home. 

“I had an amazing night tonight.” You said as he pulled into your driveway and he parked. He turned to you and smiled.

“I had an amazing night too. Hopefully we can continue this.” Bradley said and you smiled and nodded.

“I would love that.” You said and you both were getting out of the Bronco and he grabbed the basket and headed to the house. When you got there you unlocked the front door and turned to him and he leaned down and kissed you and of course you kissed back. His mustache tickled you but it wasn’t uncomfortable when you broke apart. “Good night, Bradley.” You said and he smiled as you took the basket from him.

“Good night, Y/N.” He said and you smiled and turned to open the door and walked in and closed it. He waited until you were in and the door was locked before walking to his Bronco. He got in as his phone dinged. 

Had a great time tonight. Can’t wait to do it again.

Bradley Bradshaw: Name the place and time. 

Yup he was truly a keeper. You couldn’t wait for more dates and adventures with him.

1 month later (4 weeks)

You and Bradley had been dating for a month now and that time had been amazing and he was amazing. You and he had been non-stop talking and you both had been on multiple dates. You both had spent nights with each other but it only consisted of cuddles. Tonight, you both were at his place for date night, he brought up in a simple text one Friday afternoon. He offered to cook you your favorite meal which happened to be steak fettuccine alfredo with garlic bread, it turned out to be his favorite since childhood. You had agreed for you to be over at his place at 6 PM right as soon as you got off from work for the weekend.

6 PM on the dot and you were knocking on the door of his apartment and he was opening the door and the smell of food hit you and your stomach growled. “Someone sounds hungry.” He joked and you grinned bashfully.

“Starving. I didn’t get time to eat lunch today.” You admitted

“Baby, you can’t be doing that yourself.” He said as he started to usher you in and taking your jacket off and taking your purse and putting them away. 

“I didn’t mean to, it just happened. We just got really busy.” You said as he made you sit down on a chair that he pulled out for you.

“Well, it is a good thing that food is ready.” He said as he plated up a plate for you and put garlic bread on the side for you. He brought it over to you and set it down in front of you and then went to the fridge and got your favorite wine cooler and opened it for you and set it down in front of you. The smell of the food hit your nose and your stomach growled once again.

“This smells delicious.” You said as he sat down with his food and choice of drink.

“Eat up. Can’t let my Baby starve to death.” He said and your stomach filled with butterflies as you took your first fork full of the delicious food. He watched you as you took a bite and your eyes closed. You practically moaned at the taste and smiled and took a bite. “How is it?” He asked after he swallowed.

“Delicious.” You said and as you opened your eyes to look at him “You can cook this anytime.” You said and he smiled.

“I plan on it. It’s actually my mom’s recipe and she said it was one of my dad’s favorites.” He said and you smiled at him. You and he had talked about Carole and Goose and from the stories you could tell that they loved each other and they were good people. You had lost your parents at an early age and were raised by your uncle. As the both of you ate supper you both talked about anything that came to your mind and after several plates and your stomachs were full you both moved to the couch leaving the dishes for later. Dessert would be had later both of you being too full of the delicious meal he had cooked up. Work had worn you out that you were close to falling asleep, he had put on the show you both were currently watching together. He had turned you both to where you both were laying down on the couch. “Stay the night?” He asked and you turned to look up at him.

“You want me to?” You answered his question with a question.

“Only if you want to.” He said 

“I would love to.” You said he smiled and kissed you and you kissed back and then you turned to continue watching the show. It was harder and harder to keep your eyes open and you closed them. Bradley felt your body relax further and he cuddled you more. 

“I love you.” He whispered in your ear thinking that you were asleep but you weren’t. You turned in his arms and leaned up and kissed him and he kissed you back. Once air was needed you broke apart and looked at each other.

“I love you too.” You said smiling and he smiled back. This was the first time you both said that you loved each other. You both just stared at each other and then you both were leaning in and kissing each other feverishly. You both sat up and then he picked you up and headed off to the bedroom he gently laid you down and climbed on top of you gently. He kissed you and then he started to your jaw and started to nip you gently and it brought an ache between your legs that needed attention. He kissed and nipped his way down to your neck where you turned your head to give him better access, his mustache tickled you but it wasn’t uncomfortable it just added fuel to the fire. You let out a low moan that you couldn't help and you felt him smirk on your heated skin that was just getting hotter by the second. Bradley came up and you turned your head and looked at him. His eyes held something in them almost like asking if he could continue and you nodded. He slowly took off your shirt and you helped him and now you were in your bra and pants. 

“Tell me if you want to stop.” He said 

“Keep going.” You said and he nodded and continued. He slowly undressed you until you were fully naked in front of him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said and you blushed as he ran his hands up and down your sides. You made a move to the bottom of his t-shirt and he got the hint and took it off and added it to the pile of your clothes. You couldn’t help but stare and look him up and down, the Navy sure did him good. “You like what you see?” He asked.

“I do but I want to see what you have under those pants.” You said somehow finding the boldness and you could tell he loved that because he started to shed his pants and then his underwear. His cock sprang up and slapped his rock-hard abs. You only became wetter looking at him, he had the full package and you couldn’t believe it was all yours. “Fuck I definitely like what I see.” You said and smirked and then he smirked.

“I like what I see too.” He said looking you up and down. He then suddenly attacked your lips and licked your bottom lip and you parted your lips and your tongues fought for dominance he caressed your body. He brought one hand to the one place you needed him; he ran his hand through your folds and you moaned into his mouth he kept going until he pushed two thick digits into you and a wonderful stretch was welcomed. Bradley fingered fucked you as you both French kissed each other. He was getting you close to coming and he could tell and then he was pulling out of you and he broke the kiss. You were about to say something but he slid into you in one swift motion. 

“Fuck that feels good.” You moaned as he fully bottomed out of you. You were no virgin but it had been awhile since you had sex and each time you were never left satisfied but Bradley was satisfying you and it was only the beginning. 

“Talk about feeling good? You’re gripping me like you were made for me.” He moaned and you looked up into his honey brown eyes that his pupils had pretty much taken over. “You ok if I start moving?” He asked.

“Fuck yes.” You said and smirked and started to thrust his hips into yours and it brought you to seeing stars. “Fuck, Baby. You’re so big. You’re perfect.” You moaned as your hands went to his shoulder blades and gripped, fingernails leaving indents in his skin. He continued to thrust in and out of you making you feel good and in turn you squeezed him and made him moan.

“Keep doing that and I won’t last long.” He said 

“Fucking shit. You’re hitting all the right spots.” You moaned “Go faster.” You said but it sounded more like a demand and he was willing to fill that demand. He started to thrust faster and you started to get closer to that orgasm that was rapidly building. Moans and pants from both of you were filling the room and sweat started to break out on both of your bodies. 

“Fuck, I’m close.” He moaned and that dam was about to break.

“Me too.” You moaned and then he was attacking your lips again and then was kissing and nipping at your jaw again. His mustache scratching you just added to the pleasure and you loved it. You could feel him start to get sloppy and knew he was getting closer. 

“Cum with me.” He said almost demanded as his hand came down to your clit and started to give it attention and in turn it was bringing you closer. It wasn’t long after he nipped your neck and tugged on your clit you were squeezing him and coming on his cock and then he was stilling inside of you and painting your walls white. You both started to come down from your high as he pulled out of you and fell to the side of you. Both of you were sweaty and panting but you both didn’t care as you laid beside each other fucked out in bliss. 

“I love you.” You said and looked over at him and he looked over at you.

“I love you too.” He said and you smiled and kissed him and he kissed you back. He turned down the covers and the two of you crawled under them. He brought you into his chest and cuddled you. You yawned and he chuckled. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.” He said and you nodded and slowly closed your eyes and snuggled your head into his chest and fell asleep and once he saw your breath even out and he knew you were truly asleep he allowed himself to fall asleep.  

You knew you had found the one and you had to thank a drunk asshole for that. If he hadn’t tried so hard to get you to go home with him then you wouldn’t have met your amazing boyfriend that had faked being your boyfriend at the beginning. You both loved each other and that is all that mattered. 

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[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 34 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley convinces you to order a new bed by using an interesting tactic. And when you realize you were Bradley's first for something, you're already excited to find out if you can be his first again. Because he was yours, and with one simple word, Noah had you wrapped around his tiny fingers even more.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, spanking, smut, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

After work on Friday, Bradley picked Noah up on his way home. Casey tried to talk his ear off when he arrived at the daycare center. She seemed pleased that Bradley was alone today, and she pulled the clipboard away from him with a smirk when he tried to take it from her to sign it. 

"I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner with me tonight? Or another night?" she asked, and Bradley just stared at her. "Us and Noah, of course."

She was probably the same age as you. Maybe he'd been giving Casey some sort of hope when he'd wrapped his arms around you yesterday. But even if he were single, he wouldn't go for someone who worked where Noah went to school. "I have a girlfriend, Casey. You've met her several times. She's on my approved list of people who are allowed to take Noah home."

With a sigh she set the clipboard down in front of him. "I didn't know it was serious."

"It's serious," he promised as he scribbled down his name on the correct line. And then without another word, she went to retrieve Noah for him. It was unbelievable. Suddenly, because of you, Bradley was appealing to younger women. And you were obviously appealing to everyone, including Beau Simpson. Every time Bradley saw him at work, he smirked at the admiral. That man wanted you that night at the bar, but you were Bradley's. He could get hard for you just thinking about it. 

"Daddy!" shouted Noah as he ran across the small lobby. 

"Hey, Bub." Bradley scooped him up and got a kiss.

"Where's Princess? I like it when you pick me up together."

Bradley shifted his gaze to Casey as he said, "Let's go home and get her."

"Do you think she made ants on logs for me?" Noah asked as Bradley carried him outside.

Bradley kissed his son and said, "I think there's a good possibility."

Before he started the engine, he texted you and let you know that Noah was asking for you and for his favorite treat. Your response left him aching to get home as quickly as possible.

My Princess: Of course I made him some ants. I know what you boys like. Dinner is nearly ready, too. Can't wait to see you Daddy.

When he finally rushed in the front door in his flight suit with Noah in his arms, you were there in the living room, ready to greet both of them.

"Princess!" Noah gushed, climbing from Bradley's arms to yours. "I made you a painting of a dinosaur in a crown."

You kissed his cheek and said, "I absolutely need to see it right now."

So Bradley pulled it out of the backpack with a smile on his face, even though you'd completely ditched him in favor of kissing Noah. Because he loved the way you interacted with his son. 

You gasped when he held it up and said, "Noah! It's perfect! Let's hang it on the refrigerator." It actually just looked like some green and purple blobs, but you took it from Bradley's hand anyway as you whispered, "Hi, Daddy."

"Hey, Baby." Bradley had a lot of things in mind for you, but none of them were really appropriate at this moment, so he just gave you a soft kiss and followed you to the kitchen.

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

After Noah was in bed, you changed into one of Bradley's soft shirts and a cute pair of your underwear. You finally felt like your things were organized neatly in his house and his bedroom. Your house... your bedroom. Just thinking about it made you smile. But the bed needed to go. You'd spent a good portion of your day looking for a new one online, but everything seemed so expensive.

"Why do you look upset?" Bradley asked when he walked in, fresh out of the shower. He removed the towel from his waist and used it to dry his hair. Even when he wasn't hard, he looked huge, and you bit your lip in need. 

"I'm not upset," you insisted, closing the distance to him. "Just annoyed at the price of a new bed."

Bradley ran his index finger along your lip. "You have your pretty purple princess credit card. Use it. I agree, we should have a new bed."

You kissed his finger before you said, "The one I like is over a thousand dollars."

"Princess. You know by now that I'm not going to get mad if you spend money. Thank you for giving me a heads up about the price of the bed," he said, voice deep and raspy. "It sounds fine to me."

When you tucked your face against his warm chest, you whispered, "Thank you, Daddy."

One of his big hands trailed down your back until he was cupping your butt and playing with your lace thong. He slid his index finger inside the elastic, and your nipples got hard as he ran his finger slowly up and down your rear end until you clenched around nothing. "I have an idea," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. "Maybe it would be easier for you to use the credit card if you got a punishment of sorts when you did."

"A punishment?" you asked, looking up at him puzzled with your chin resting on his chest. 

"A fun one," he said with a nod, squeezing your butt. "I could spank you."

You tilted your head back and gaped up at him as he continued to work his palm along your flesh. You'd never done that before, which wasn't surprising, because you'd never been with an older man before. And that always seemed like the kind of thing a boy your own age would turn into a silly foray into a kink that you thought you might actually enjoy with the right person. "Spank me?"

Bradley's cock was a little hard now as his fingers worked down and down until he was teasing both of your holes. "Only if you want to. Might motivate you to use the credit card," he whispered with a smirk as your eyes fluttered closed. 

You moaned for him, long and needy, and when he took a few steps backward toward the edge of the bed, you followed him. When he sat down with his legs splayed, his cock looked gorgeous. Just shy of fully erect. Long, pink and pretty. 

"What if I don't like it?" you asked softly, taking a step closer to him. 

"Then I'll stop."

"And what if I do like it?" you asked, running your fingers along his thigh.

Bradley pulled your shirt up a few inches and kissed your belly. "Then Daddy will spank you when you use your princess card."

You moaned again and squeezed your thighs tight. "That sounds hot." And next thing you knew, he had you tossed across his lap with your butt up in the air. You could feel the tip of his cock rubbing along your belly as you scrambled to grab the bedding with one hand and his calf with the other. You looked up at him over your shoulder, and before you could say anything at all, he pushed your shirt up and rubbed his hand along your back, butt and thighs. And then he landed a solid slap that left your skin tingling, and you were already prepared to beg him for more. 

He spanked you again, right on the round of your butt, and you gasped, "Fuck. Bradley!"

He soothed your skin with his rough palm. "Do you want me to stop, Princess?"

"No!" you nearly shouted, wiggling yourself up in the air for more. And he delivered, spanking you three more times in rapid succession. "I love it," you gasped, wiggling a little more against his thigh. 

"I can see that," Bradley crooned. "That's because you're young and sweet, and you've never been bad like this before. You never had a Daddy who wanted you to use his credit card before."

His hand landed with another stinging smack, and you jerked against him, panting as you stared at the bedroom floor, waiting for more. Your thong was pulled taut, the fabric tight along your clit, and each movement brought pressure exactly where you wanted it. "Please?" you whined, and you listened to Bradley chuckle as you rubbed your pussy on his thigh.

"Wow. You really want this." He ran his fingers along the length of the strip of fabric between your cheeks, teasing your holes through the lace. You couldn't stop grinding on him. His coarse leg hairs and his muscular body kept you anchored as he spanked you so hard, you clenched. 

Then you were treated to another round of being soothed while Bradley told you to keep quiet. And the next time his hand met your right butt cheek, you jerked yourself against his thigh and whispered, "I'm gonna cum."

"Really?" Bradley asked. "Should I let you?" He was back to soothing you and running his fingers across your holes. 

"Daddy," you begged. "I'll order the bed tonight. I promise."

Bradley tucked his fingers inside your thong and teased you as he muttered, "This is going to work out even better than I thought." Then he used both hands on your hips to press you down harder on his lap, and you wiggled until you were moaning and clenching harder and harder. 

"Yes," you gasped, and as you reached the peak of your orgasm, he spanked you so many times in a row, your eyes filled with tears of satisfaction. "Daddy," you whimpered, looking up at his smile and his handsome face. 

"You're such a good girl for me," he praised, and slowly you managed to stand between his thighs on shaky legs. You kissed his lips softly as his big hands gently cupped your throbbing rear end. "I love you. Now order a new bed."

"I will," you promised, running your fingers along his erection. "After I take care of this." Bradley watched you with eyes wide, as you sank to your knees in front of him. You knew how much he loved your mouth on him like this, and you wanted to make him feel as good as he made you feel. His cock was throbbing in your hands as you kissed the angry, red tip and looked up at him. "After I take care of you."

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

Your mouth on his cock was always a treat for Bradley, but you still had tears in your eyes which made you look even more beautiful to him as he reached for your paper crown and set it on your head. You kissed and nuzzled his cock with your face before pressing soft kisses along his balls. He wasn't going to last long after the spanking when you were as good as you were. But he was feeling smug; you got off rubbing on him while he spanked your perfect ass. 

He was planning on rewarding you by eating your pussy all night. He wasn't expecting to be the one who got head, but he'd never complain about this. Not when your perfect lips were wrapping around his cock like you were right at home. 

"You're so fucking good," he groaned, head tipping back as you took him deep. He took a few deep breaths as you got him really worked up. You were bobbing and moaning, and he watched you take him as his hands found your face. 

When you popped him free to take a deep breath, a pretty strand of your saliva dripped down onto the shirt you were wearing. "Feel good, Daddy?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Baby, you're the best." He stroked your cheek as you sucked on his tip and kept your pretty eyes on his. The crown was crooked on your head now, and he was just a mess for you. "Let me paint your lips up?" he asked, grinning as he thought about the lipgloss you liked to wear. Tonight he wanted you to wear him. 

You sucked him expertly until he was panting, and then you jerked him off onto your lips and face as you giggled. "You gonna help me get cleaned up?" you asked softly as Bradley looked at you completely mesmerized. He reached to swipe his long fingers through his cum, but then he paused as he remembered the polaroid camera sitting on the dresser.

"Don't move," he whispered, kissing your forehead as he stood. When he returned and got the camera ready, he kissed the top of your head and whispered your name. "Baby, if you think I wasn't wild about the photos you sent away with me, I can assure you that I was. Will you let me have more?"

"Yes," you whined, licking at your lips as Bradley took a picture of you before setting it aside. And he'd fight a hundred more Carls who tried to take such a pretty photo away from him in the future. 

"Let's clean you up, Princess," he murmured, kneeling in front of you and swiping his fingers through his mess. You licked his fingers clean over and over again, and Bradley pressed his lips to yours tasting himself. Then he put your crown back on the bedpost where it belonged, accidentally bumping your butt as he hung it up.

"Oww," you whined as he helped you to your feet. "I'm sore."

"I know," he whispered, collapsing onto the bed and coaxing you on top of him. He ran his palm gently along your ass as you curled up with your cheek on his chest. "God, you're perfect."

"I've never been spanked before," you whispered, and Bradley smiled against the top of your head. 

"I've never spanked anyone before."

You looked up at him immediately. "You haven't?" you asked in awe. "I thought you and Meredith..."

But he just shook his head. "Who would I have done that with? I've never had a girlfriend who called me her Daddy before. You make me want to do everything with you."

He watched you preen as you propped yourself up on his chest. "Everything?"

"Everything."

You kissed his pecs as he handed your phone to you. "Am I ordering a new bed right now?" you asked with a little giggle. 

"Yes," he grunted. "Put it on your princess card."

You held up your phone so he could see the bed and mattress you picked out. King sized. Four poster. But he liked it even better than the one he had now. He nodded and watched you purchase it. You tossed the phone aside and whispered, "Just wait. I'll earn myself another spanking in no time."

Bradley kissed you and said, "I know you will. Now let's talk about Big Bear Lake."

"Big Bear Lake?" you asked with a yawn as Bradley continued to soothe your rear end with his hands. 

"Yeah," he rasped. "When can you take a few days off of work so I can spoil you and Noah with a little trip to the mountains? Penny, Mav and Amelia want to go. We'd have some built-in babysitters."

"Mmm," you hummed, a smile on your lips as you snuggled against him again. "Let me talk to Dr. Kelly." Then Bradley let you fall asleep in his arms.

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

When you woke up on Saturday morning, your butt was still sore, but you were smiling against Bradley's chest. "Morning, Princess," he murmured in your ear. "How you feeling?" He rubbed his hand down your back and gently cupped you.

"So good," you groaned. Truly, you had enjoyed every minute of last night. Plus you were getting a new bed in this room. And Bradley had never spanked anyone else. And you'd slept so well. You straddled his waist, ready to show him just how good you were feeling. "Daddy."

But then you heard Noah jump out of his bed and open his door, and you knew he'd be in your bedroom in a matter of seconds. Bradley sighed as you scrambled under the covers with him, brushing his cock which was already getting hard for you. "I mean, I love my son, but..." he said with a laugh.

"Don't you dare!" you replied with a scandalized giggle. "He's an angel."

"Daddy? Princess?" Noah asked as he pushed the door open. "I'm hungry." He was so sweet, standing there rubbing his eyes as he looked at both of you. 

"Head on into the kitchen, Bub," Bradley told him. "We'll make you something yummy."

Once Noah was gone again, Bradley rolled out of bed, and you wanted to reach for him as he pulled some underwear on. Then he set his gray sweatpants down next to you and said, "Take your time."

You stretched and tried to sit up, but your butt hurt so much. So you just pulled on the sweatpants and stopped in the bathroom on your way to the kitchen. When you looked in the mirror, you were smiling nonstop. And when you went to see what the boys were up to, you smelled coffee brewing and saw your favorite creamer on the counter. Bradley was standing in front of the open refrigerator, shaking his head. 

"What do you want to eat?" he was asking Noah. 

"Pancakes!" he replied from his seat at the table.

He grunted. "How about something I know how to make," he grumbled. "Let's give Princess a morning off."

"I can make pancakes," you insisted, and he turned to look at you over his shoulder with a smile. You kissed Noah on the head and asked, "You want butter and syrup? Some strawberries, too?"

"Yes, Mommy," he replied, looking up at you with questioning eyes. Your heart stopped. It must have. You were having a hard time breathing normally as you looked down into his brown eyes and then up into Bradley's. "Mommy?" Noah asked, quieter this time, and you didn't know how to respond. 

"Noah." His name felt so precious on your lips as tears came to your eyes. You weren't sure if this is what Bradley wanted. But you wanted it. You could tell you were on the verge of crying as you stroked Noah's hair with your fingers. 

When one tear streaked down your cheek, you asked Bradley, "Is that okay?"

He was right there with his hands at your waist and his lips next to your ear. "It's okay with me, Mommy."

You kissed your boyfriend hard on the lips before swiping at your cheeks and reaching for Noah. "Come here," you said, picking him up even though he was getting heavy and nuzzling your face to his neck. You kissed him and said, "Let's go find the strawberries in the refrigerator." 

When you pulled out the carton of berries, you let Noah hold them. He looked delighted as you kept kissing his cheek over and over again while Bradley got your coffee ready for you. And he was all smiles just like his son as you held back your tears. You loved both of them so much, and you didn't want to put Noah down. So you just stood in the middle of the kitchen with him in your arms while Bradley took the strawberries and washed them for you. 

Then you whispered to the child in your arms, "I love you, sweet Noah."

"I love you, too," he said with a smile. "But I'm hungry." 

"Right," you said with a laugh. "I'll make your pancakes." 

Bradley had been hanging back for a minute, giving you a moment with Noah, but now his arms were wrapped around you both. He kissed your temple before saying, "Come help me with the strawberries so Mommy can cook breakfast."

Your ears were ringing with the word Mommy. They both kept saying it. You didn't think you would ever stop smiling. You took a sip from Bradley's Getting high is part of my job mug, and you swore you had never tasted anything so delicious in your life. You made pancakes, and they turned out beautifully. You even made some for Noah roughly in the shape of suns and stars, and he looked delighted when you set them down in front of him. Then you cut them into smaller bites and added syrup and some of the strawberries Bradley had managed to cut up. 

"Thanks, Mommy," Noah said as he shoved a forkful into his mouth. Bradley was reaching for a few pancakes from the stack as he smiled at you, but you took the fork from his hand and settled onto his lap even though it hurt your butt.

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him softly. "Thank you, Daddy," you whispered, combing your fingers through his hair. "I love him."

"I know you do," he replied, pulling you closer. "He's wanted to call you his Mommy for a while. I'm just happy you're okay with it."

You laughed and watched Noah eating a strawberry covered in syrup. "I'm more than okay with it."

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

For the rest of the day, you and Noah were inseparable. You colored together and did some puzzles, and Noah sat on your lap while he ate lunch. And your smile was infectious. Bradley thought about engagement rings and your birth control for most of the day even though he knew he shouldn't. But how was he supposed to help himself when you were playing tic-tac-toe and eating ants on logs with his son? How was he supposed to put it off any longer when he saw how happy you were?

He texted Mav a few times, making sure he could secure that lake house for a long weekend. And when you convinced Noah to take an afternoon nap, Bradley had you in his arms in the quiet house. He scooped you up as you giggled. 

"Think I should mark you down as Noah's Mommy at the daycare center?" he asked, dropping you onto the bed and climbing on top of you. He made quick work of the gray sweatpants and your thong.

You moaned and said, "Casey would be so pissed off," as Bradley pulled his underwear down and stroked himself a few times. 

"Imagine how annoyed she'll be when I get a ring on your finger," he growled.

You gasped as he pushed his cock inside you, and Bradley devoured your lips with his. You gaped up at him as he pushed your thighs wide and looped his arms around your legs. "Daddy," you whine softly, just spurring him on. He wanted to be gentle, because he knew you were still sore. But he felt feral inside. He wanted to mark you as his own. 

It didn't last long, and as soon as he filled your pussy up with his cum, Bradley pulled you against his side for an afternoon nap in the now silent house. He dozed with you and ran his hand along your back, enjoying the soft sound of your even breaths. He had promised Nat that he would make an appearance at the Hard Deck tonight after missing out on so many weeks. When everyone was awake, he would check to see if Amelia could come over and watch Noah for a few hours. 

But when you woke up and went right back to playing and snuggling with Noah who kept calling you Mommy, he shouldn't have been surprised at all that you didn't want to go out. As soon as he mentioned the bar, you looked up at him from the craft project taking place on the living room floor like he was very simple. 

"What would I want to go out tonight? Noah and I are busy. Besides, if I go and that Beau Simpson guy is there and touches me again, he's getting slapped."

Bradley knelt down and kissed you with a grin. "That's Mav's boss. You know that, right?" 

"I don't care who he is," you huffed, gluing construction paper together. 

"We'll stay in," Bradley whispered, but you were already shaking your head.

"Go out with Nat. I'll stay here with this sweet boy."

Bradley studied you as you looked at him. Your hand was rubbing Noah's back as he used some safety scissors to turn orange paper into a confetti mess that Bradley would be all too happy to clean up later. Because he could tell you were finally feeling like you belonged here without any stipulations or an expiration date. "You want me to go out for a bit?" he asked softly. "So you can have a night with Noah all to yourself?"

You nodded with a smile and said, "It'll be just like when you had the dating app. You'll go out for a few hours and rush back home pretending you're not completely smitten with me and just dying to have a flirtatious conversation on the couch."

Bradley groaned softly and kissed your lips. "I wasn't hiding it very well, was I?"

"No," you whispered. "But neither was I."

"I love you. I'll ask Nat to pick me up for a few hours so you and Noah can play together."

And the two of you were still playing in the living room when Nat arrived to pick him up. You'd turned the couch cushions into a little tunnel and a fort, and you were laying in it together watching Mickey Mouse on TV and eating popcorn. Bradley had to laugh, because he may as well have gone out for the entire afternoon since neither of you noticed him cleaning up the rest of the house as you laughed. 

"Hey, Natasha!" you said, offering her some popcorn.

Nat took a few kernels and asked, "You're not coming out with us?" as she ruffled Noah's hair. 

"No," you replied easily. "I'm going to stay in tonight with the little guy. You got the big one."

Nat groaned as Bradley grabbed his house key. "He used to be fun to go out with. Now he just talks about you all night and mopes when you're not there."

"Sorry?" But you were laughing and looking at Bradley.

"Don't be sorry. I love to see a grown man turn pathetic," Nat replied, winking at you. "Come on, Rooster."

Bradley knelt and then crawled across the floor to kiss Noah. "Love you," he said. Then he leaned closer to you and kissed your cheek. "Love you too, Princess."

When he grunted as he stood, you laughed and said, "Don't drink too much, old man." And then they were gone and you snuggled with Noah.

"Mommy, will you make me ants?" he asked softly when the popcorn was gone. 

"At this rate, you might turn into an ant," you told him, tickling his sides as he laughed hysterically. His chubby little cheeks were pink, and he looked so happy. He was a tiny, overjoyed version of Bradley, and you loved him so much.

"An ant! Mommy, you're funny," he giggled, and you scooped him up and took him into the kitchen. Once you peeled and sliced the carrots, you let him use a spoon to glob the peanut butter on them, and subsequently also on the kitchen counter. He sprinkled on some raisins and took a bite. 

By the time you got him into a bath, he had peanut butter everywhere, and your face hurt from smiling. You and he had a rubber duck battle until your clothing was wet. And you read eight books to him before bed, including the ones that you picked out at the bookshop with Bradley. Noah was yawning and trying to keep his eyes open as he sat on your lap, and if this is what being his Mom was like, you never wanted it to stop.

"Love you, sweet Noah," you whispered, smothering him in kisses once he was in bed. You quietly organized the books on his shelf and watched him drift to sleep. You turned on his night light and eventually slipped out of his bedroom. Then you leaned against the wall in the hallway, feeling a little bit overwhelmed by everything. 

Then you giggled. Bradley mentioned a ring earlier. Noah felt like he was yours. Bradley felt like he'd never let you go. All of the sweet gestures and the afternoon sex left you tingling. When you went to turn on his favorite song so you could take a shower, you saw a message from Natasha on your phone. 

Fair warning... he's pretty drunk. I'll return him home in one piece, but then he's your problem.

You took a quick shower, still smiling, and then slipped into a pair of your underwear and one of Bradley's oversized tropical print shirts that fell to your mid thigh. You did up most of the buttons and grabbed some Skittles from the kitchen. You were about halfway through a documentary about a serial killer when you heard someone pull into the driveway. 

Your heart beat a little faster as you peeked out the window and watched Bradley being led up the sidewalk by his best friend. "Easy," Natasha said as if she was talking to a confused animal. 

"Just wanna see her," he replied, way too loud as she tried to quiet him down. 

"She lives with you now, Rooster. You see her all the time."

Bradley just stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and started to chuckle. "She fucking lives with me, Nat. It's wild, right? Like she lives here now."

"Yes, she does," Nat grunted, trying to push him the rest of the way up to the porch. But he wasn't budging, and you were laughing now. You decided to give her a break and open the front door.

"Hi," you said softly, and then Bradley was coming for you so fast, Natasha almost lost her footing. You were in his arms before you could say anything else. He smelled like cheap beer, and his eyes were soft as he looked at you. "Did you have fun, Daddy?"

"Mmm," he hummed, pushing you backwards into the house. "Love it when you call me that."

You giggled as you felt his mustache on your neck, and you waved to his best friend as she headed back to her SUV. Bradley kicked the door closed behind him as you whispered, "I think you missed me."

He had one big hand at the back of your neck and the other was up underneath the shirt, skimming along your still sore rear end, making you press yourself against him. "You're so pretty, Baby."

You felt warm all over as he patted your butt gently with a little smirk on his face. You gasped and clung to him, your arms looped around his neck, and then his lips found yours. He tasted like beer, and as you parted your lips for him, he backed you up against the TV stand. It was just like the first night he kissed you, and he was still as gentle as he always was, if not a tiny bit more demanding. 

"I love you," he grunted. "And you're wearing my shirt. Looks great on you."

"Tell me about your night, Daddy," you coaxed, running your fingers through his hair. 

But he just started rambling as he unbuttoned the shirt with clumsy fingers. "Gonna take you to that lake house. Already talked to Penny about it tonight." Then he abandoned the buttons and cupped your chin in one big palm. His eyes were hazy and fighting for focus as he kissed your forehead. His voice was deep and filled with something a little dangerous as he asked, "When you gonna let me fuck a baby into you?"

He was stroking your jaw with his long fingers, eyebrow raised, waiting for an answer as the TV stand pressed into the backs of your thighs. He was more than twelve years older than you, and he'd been hinting at this for a while. It had always sounded appealing, but now that the three of you were on the same page about Noah calling you Mommy, you wanted it even more. "We should talk about this when you're sober," you told him, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. 

"You know I'm gonna feel the same way tomorrow," he whispered, a soft smile touching his lips now. "I'm getting old, Princess. I want another baby. With you."

He was such a good father, so patient and loving with Noah. The idea of him holding a tiny baby- your tiny baby- was almost too much. You let your head tip back as you moaned, "You're not old, Daddy. You're a classic. Let's go to bed."

After he carried you to the bedroom and set you down in bed, he pushed you back against the pillows with his delicious body weight. "You're not wrong. I've been drinking. You don't owe me a real response tonight. But next time we talk about it, I want an answer from you."

You nodded as he eased his body away from yours, and you watched him strip out of his clothing and head to the bathroom. You were going to have to figure out a way to put your feelings into words. 

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

Princess Mommy and her purple credit card. Fucking lucky bitch (affectionate). Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 35

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

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[bradshawssugarbaby]

i know how i’m spending my sunday 🥵😮‍💨

Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson Master List (Top Gun: Maverick)

Admiral Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson 

 Beau becoming a dad headcanon about Beau becoming a father. Female/AFAB reader. 

Devotion  After a party, Beau reminds you not only of your worth, but who you’re devoted to. (1,347 words Female/AFAB reader.) [Explicit:  Consenting D/s relationship, spitting, oral (male receiving) face fucking, oral (female receiving)]

Nice n Easy Cyclone takes care of you after a long day at work. (1,017 words Female/AFAB reader) [Explicit: Vaginal fingering] Lunch Date  You bring Beau lunch at work. An impromptu lunch date to spend some time together. (1,396 words Female/AFAB reader.) [Explicit: semi-public sex, unprotected vaginal sex, cream pie, vaginal fingering] To Hold  Comforting Beau. (800 words Female/AFAB reader) [Warnings: insecurity in leadership.]

The one that got away Seeing the one that got away at a wedding. (492 words Female/AFAB reader) [AGNST]

Kinktober 2022  Day 6 Panties and Lingerie – Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson/Female-AFAB Reader  Kinktober 2022  Day 23: Deep Throat – Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson/Female-AFAB Reader  Shelly’s 1k Celebration 3 Sentence AU  Professor Beau  Beau “Cyclone” Simpson/Female-AFAB reader 12 Days of Fluffmas! 2022  Day Six: Winter Festival – Beau “Cyclone” Simpson/Female-AFAB Reader 3 Sentence AU  Fireman AU Beau “Cyclone” Simpson/F!Reader Banner credit: @writercole​

[lewmagoo]

to my heart, he carries the key | bob floyd

sequel to someone to watch over me (i recommend reading the first part beforehand so this makes more sense)

description: in which a threat is made against the president’s daughter’s life, and agent robert floyd is tasked with carrying out ‘operation hidden angel’

characters: secret service agent bob floyd x f!reader, pete mitchell, beau simpson, dagger squad as their own respective characters

warnings: 18+, mentions of domestic terrorism, military, secret service and us gov’t inaccuracies, smut, unprotected sex, forbidden love, gun violence, attempted kidnapping, hospitals, broken bones, angst, hopeful ending

Things had changed in The White House.

It had been three months since that fateful night during a charity event, where a man in the crowd targeted the First Daughter of the United States. Agents Robert Floyd, Jacob Seresin, and Reuben Fitch intercepted the perpetrator, and he was disarmed before he could harm anyone. He had been taken into custody, and after weeks of extensive questioning and investigation, The Department of Homeland Security had determined that this man was not working alone. He was a member of a homegrown terrorist organization.

The only thing they couldn’t get out of him was the location of the organization. He refused to give them up, but he was adamant that in a few short months, they were going to go through with their next act of violence. And this time, people were going to die. 

It was very calculated. Every last detail was planned out. How they would get the attention of the American public. How they would carry out their threat against the US government. And the way that they planned to do that? 

Why, kidnapping the president’s daughter, of course. 

During the time it took to obtain that information from the perpetrator, there was unrest in The White House. A changing of the guard, so to speak, was taking place. Tragedy had struck in the personal life of Pete Mitchell, head of White House security. 

His husband of over thirty years, Tom Kazansky, had passed away after a bout with cancer. Pete took it hard. Hard enough that after the funeral and the burial and everything in between, he decided that it was time to retire from his decade long position as head of security. 

It was not a decision that he took lightly. In fact, he’d agonized over it before finally biting the bullet and placing his letter of resignation upon the president’s desk.

“The truth is, I’m getting too old for this,” he told his team of agents, as he addressed them on the day he left. “I know, I know, it’s shocking to most of you,” he teased, as lighthearted chuckles filled the room. “But…it’s time for me to step down. Tom’s death showed me how fragile life is, and how much I should be cherishing it. I have grandchildren on the way, and I plan to be here to watch them grow up.” He glanced at Bradley Bradshaw, and the pair shared a silent understanding. Bradley’s wife was expecting. Pete didn’t want to miss a moment of that little one’s life.

“So, in my stead, Beau Simpson has agreed to take on the position as the new White House Head of Security.���

And thus, new leadership walked onto the stage. 

At first, things weren’t that much difference. Your personal security detail, with Bob as the head, remained the same. Everyone missed Agent Mitchell, but life had to go on. And go on, it did. 

Bob, for one, wasn’t the biggest fan of change. But change was part of the job, it was part of life, so he couldn’t make a big deal about it. When Simpson began to implement subtle changes into the way things were done, Bob bristled, but he didn’t speak out. He held his tongue, because he had a sneaking suspicion that if he were to rebel against Simpson’s leadership, he’d lose his job faster than he could even blink.

So he simply observed silently and waited to see just how many changes Simpson was going to make.

And then, one day, Bob was called into the president’s office, where he stood before Agent Simpson and POTUS himself. “Do you know why we’ve brought you in, Agent Floyd?” Beau asked.

“No sir,” came Bob’s simple response. He didn’t get the sense that he was losing his job, so he had no idea why he was standing here in the Oval Office. 

“I’m sure you recall three months ago, when a threat was made against the president’s daughter.”

“Yes sir, vividly.” He’d never forget that night. Never forget the terror in your voice as you called out for him. 

Then, the president interjected. “As Agent Mitchell previously briefed you, the perpetrator was part of a domestic terrorist organization here on our soil. Recently, he confessed to agents that this group will be carrying out an act of violence upon the American people. We aren’t sure where, or when exactly, but what we are sure of, is that they’re going to go after my daughter again.”

Agent Simpson picked up where the man left off. “Listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you. What we talk about here is strictly confidential. It is a matter of national security.” Then he leaned closer toward Bob. “I am going to give you a set of coordinates. No one else but you, me, and the president know them. Once I give them to you, I want you to be prepared for my signal. When I deem it necessary, you will go to the Residence, retrieve his daughter, and escort her to this location. You will not bring any other agents with you. Just you, and herself. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir. But why am I being given coordinates contrary to the location of the safe house that was already put in place?”

“Because that location has been compromised. You must only escort her to the coordinates I give you. Her life depends on it.”

“And when we get there?”

“You wait for my all clear. It won’t be safe to bring her back home until the threat is neutralized. Can you carry out these orders?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Now memorize these coordinates.” Agent Simpson recited the numbers twice. Bob had an excellent memory, and stored away the information easily. Once he confirmed the coordinates by reciting them back to the man, Beau nodded. “From here on out, you will be prepared at all times to carry out Operation Hidden Angel.”

Bob breathed in, then out. Then he nodded. “I will be standing by awaiting further orders.”

The president stood from behind his desk. “I trust you to do whatever it takes to protect my only child, Agent Floyd. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Whatever it takes, sir.”

He was dismissed from the office, and his head was spinning. Suddenly, he was burdened with a deep sense of pressure. The need to do his job well. Not because your father and the entire country was depending on him, but because you were depending on him. 

He had taken an oath to serve and protect. And he meant it. Even before he knew he loved you, he had made good on that oath. And now, even more so. You were infinitely precious to him, and he would do whatever it took to ensure your safety. 

Even if it meant giving his life to ensure it. He was fully prepared to go to that length if he needed to. 

That night, he couldn’t sleep. His mind kept drifting to you. To how much he loved you. How much he missed you. He saw you everyday. He escorted you to wherever you needed to go. But those moments did not allow him to be alone with you in the way that you both wanted. There were always prying eyes. Other members of your security detail. Cameras. Nosey reporters. Your relationship had remained secret all this time, and you couldn’t risk exposing it. 

So he would continue pining for you, desiring you, hoping for a private moment to at least hold you in his arms. Little did he know he was about to get that opportunity, just not in the way that he was expecting.

The orders came one Friday afternoon. The work day was coming to a close. At that moment, you were in your quarters getting ready. That evening, you had a dinner engagement with a friend from college. Bob had only just finished briefing the rest of your detail on what the itinerary was for the night. Everyone was prepped and on the same page.

And then, Agent Simpson’s voice spoke into his earpiece.

“Agent Floyd, it’s time to enact Operation Hidden Angel.”

He tensed, his heart seizing in his chest as a shock of dread shuddered down his spine. This was it. His worst fear was coming true. Your life had been directly threatened, and it was time to take you to the designated safe house deep in the Virginia mountains.

And when Bob received that command, he had no choice but to act on it. He touched his fingers to his earpiece and responded. “Copy that. Operation Hidden Angel commencing.”

And then he was off, his shoes tapping rhythmically against the polished wooden floors as he rushed down each hallway and corridor. Adrenaline drove him forward, and he soon came to the entrance to the residence. Breathing in deeply to steady himself, he knocked twice before he opened the doors. 

He knew where you were. He didn’t have to search. You were in your bedroom, readying yourself for the night ahead. For propriety’s sake, he knocked softly. If he hadn’t been afraid that someone might see him, he would’ve just burst into the room. 

He still had to keep up the appearance that you were not romantically involved. 

On the other side of the door, you were just setting out the outfit you would wear that night. You were entirely oblivious to the looming danger, eager for an eveningof catching up with an old friend. “Come in!” You called out as you debated which accessories to add to your outfit. 

You were surprised to see Bob in your doorway. You smiled at the unexpected visit, but your smile soon faded when you saw the urgent look on his face. “You need to grab your emergency bag and come with me. Now.”

Your stomach dropped. “Bobby, what—”

“Just come. It’s not safe for you to be here right now.”

Deciding it best not to ask any further questions in the moment, you rushed to your closet, trembling hands yanking out the bag of packed necessities  you kept for emergencies such as this. Then you shoved your feet into your shoes and rushed after him. 

“What’s happening?” You asked as you followed Bob out of your room and down the corridor that led out of the residence. 

“Can’t tell you the details. Just need to get you somewhere safe.”

“But-”

He turned, stopping you in your tracks. “Do you trust me?” He asked, blazing blue eyes locked with yours. 

“With my life,” you replied without hesitation. 

“Then stick with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

So you stopped asking questions. You followed Bob through the back hallways of the White House, allowing him to lead you, trusting in his guidance. You knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would protect you. He always had. When there was a threat against your safety, he was the first to run toward the danger. 

But now, you were both running from it. You knew it had to be serious if you were being removed from The White House. Someone had likely made a significant threat, and Agent Simpson had advised you be removed from the premises until the threat was neutralized. 

But would the danger ever be gone? Even if this particular instance was taken care of, others would come up in the future. You would never be safe, because that was just your life as the president’s one and only child. 

You did, however, feel safe with the man in front of you. His large, warm hand engulfed your own as he led you down beneath the building. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure your protection. Not only because it was his duty, but because he couldn’t live with himself if something happened to you. He loved you too much.

And that was the sticky part of the situation. No one knew about your secret love for one another. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Someone did know. Bradley Bradshaw, Bob’s secondhand man on your security detail, had silently put two and two together. He’d never outright told either of you that he knew, but there seemed to be a silent understanding between him and Bob. A way of communicating that had come with years of working alongside each other in the same military branch. Neither one of them had to say a word, but they knew what the other was thinking. 

Bradley had kept your secret all this time. You were often surprised that no one had found out, and both you and Bob lived in fear that one day, your father would find out. And if that were to happen, you would lose Bob. He would be dismissed from his duties and you would likely never see him again. The thought broke your heart. 

But for the time being, you were able to slip under the radar. Now, especially, because it was just the two of you. And for a moment, you wondered why the rest of your detail wasn’t with you. “Bob, where’s the rest of the team?” You asked as he pulled you to a stop outside a sleek black sedan. He grabbed your bag and threw it in the backseat before motioning for you to climb in alongside it.

“I’ll explain later.” He ushered you into your seat before he scurried to the driver’s side and slipped into the seat. The engine roared to life seconds later, and he glanced back at you. “Buckle up.”

You did.

Then he was taking off, headed out of the parking garage. As he hit the gas, he spoke into his earpiece. “Angel is flying.”

“Bob, why is it just the two of us?”  You reiterated your question from a few moments earlier.

He glanced at you through the rearview, debating just how much he should tell you. “The more people that know where we’re going, the more danger it puts you in. Only your dad and Agent Simpson know where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just…just don’t ask questions, okay, honey? The less you know, the safer you are.”

You heeded his words and settled back into your seat, your heart racing against your ribcage. This was more serious than you realized, wasn’t it? And as you thought about it, the more fearful you became. Your life was in danger, and it was an odd feeling. 

Who were you, that someone wanted to kill you? Your father’s decisions were not a reflection of your own morals or beliefs. You had no control over the way he chose to run the country. But there were times when his decisions put a target on his family’s back. Yours especially, because as his child, you were his biggest weakness. Remove you from the equation, and one would have the President of the United States in the palm of their hand, willing to do whatever they asked just to get you back. 

This was why proactive measures were being taken. You couldn’t be used as a bargaining chip if you were in hiding. But oh, how you hated it. This was your father’s second term. You had been living in the White House for much too long, and you were tired of it. Tired of the world’s eyes being on you at all times. Tired of the politics and the responsibility. You had never asked for this. This was your father’s endeavor, you were just along for the ride. 

But it had resulted in you being placed into the back of a bulletproof car and driven off to some top-secret location just to keep you safe. And from the back of that seat, your eyes observed the singular agent in charge of maintaining that safety. He wasn’t looking at you through the rearview, his eyes were on the road where they belonged. But you could see the conflict in those beautiful blues. You could see the fear. 

Whatever this threat was had scared him. And that was saying something, because Bob Floyd didn’t scare easily. But when it came to protecting you, he did get scared. Terrified, even. He just didn’t let you see it. He wanted you to trust him, to feel secure. And you did. In fact, no one else made you feel as secure as he did. Yes, the rest of your detail did a wonderful job. You knew you could trust them with your life. 

But because you loved Bob so much, you sought him out for shelter and protection. He was the first you turned to when you were frightened or felt unsafe. And he loved being that for you. Loved that you looked to him for those things. 

However, he sometimes thought about the day he might fail you. Would his feelings for you hinder his ability to protect you effectively? Would he be blinded by love? It hadn’t happened yet, but he knew if he was even a smidge off his game, Agent Simpson would be able to sniff it out. And he would not let Bob off the hook for it, either. He’d instruct him to end his relationship with you immediately. And there would be no second chance. Beau would tell the president, and Bob’s position would be terminated.

But it had not gotten to that point, and you prayed it never would. You much preferred sharing this intimate little secret. It did make maintaining your relationship a little difficult, because there were times when you wished you had the guts to tell your father, to tell the world. But the thought of the repercussions that would follow always made you decide against it. 

You wanted to relish in this secret for a little longer. If the time ever did come to reveal your relationship, you would know. Until then, you remained under the radar, stealing private moments when you could, and otherwise keeping your distance when it was appropriate. 

But now you were entirely alone. No prying eyes. No risk of being caught. You were alone, because Bob was the only one your father trusted to watch over you. Because some unhinged madman had made a threat against your life and Bob would sooner die than let any harm come to you. 

“You’re taking me to the safe house, aren’t you?” You spoke up. You had no idea where the house was located, but you had heard of presidents in the past utilizing safe houses. If you were being physically removed from The White House and taken elsewhere, a safe house was the only logical destination you could think of. 

Bob caught your eye through the rearview mirror. His expression was bleak, and he said nothing, but it confirmed what you were asking. 

The drive to the safe house was two hours. You left behind the bustling area of Washington, D.C. and headed into the mountains of Virginia. And as you went, the sun began to sink lower in the sky, allowing eventide to grace the land.

You and Bob hardly spoke, which was uncommon. But you could tell he was harrowed by this situation, and in turn, you were just as scared. It rendered you both silent for the rest of the ride. Instead, you stared out the window, watching the landscape go by, wondering how long you would have to stay here. A night? A week? A month? How serious was this threat made against you? How immediate was the danger? 

All these questions swirled in your mind as Bob drove up a winding, dirt drive. It seemed to go on forever, and the farther he went, the darker it got. But he kept going, until finally, he was pulling up outside a small cabin.

You stared in confusion. Surely this couldn’t be it, right? When thinking of a safe house, you imagined concrete walls and impenetrable security systems. This was just a cabin in the middle of nowhere. 

Bob was confused as well. An odd feeling churned to life in his gut. Something didn’t feel quite right about this, but these were the coordinates he was given. He had not made a mistake in his navigation. You were where you were supposed to be.

“Are you sure this is the place?” You asked as he pulled the car behind the house, intending to keep it hidden from view so as not to raise any suspicions if anyone were to happen upon the place.

“These are the coordinates I was given. I followed orders,” Bob replied, a little sharply, but his annoyance wasn’t directed at you. It was at whoever had designated this as a safe house. Surely the US government could afford something more than this, right?

“I just…was expecting something more grand. A fortress or something,” came your explanation.

Bob softened. “Honestly, me too. I didn’t know what to expect. They gave me the coordinates when I first took charge of your detail. I always assumed the safe house was a bunker.”

Both of you were wrong. Instead, it was a quaint cabin that looked like any normal cabin in the forest might look. However, when you got up to the porch, you found a keypad on the door. It had to be unlocked by a code.

Bob spoke into his mic. “Angel has landed safely.”

Seconds later, Agent Simpson’s voice crackled to life in his ear. “Copy that,” he said. And then, “zero one zero two nine three.”

Bob typed the numbers into the keypad, and the sound of a lock turning reached his ears. Seconds later, the door was unlocked. He opened the door and took a look inside, scoping out the place. 

It looked like a typical hunting cabin, except more well furnished. a seating area off to the left, complete with a bearskin rug. A small kitchen off to the right. An old oak dining table in the middle of the main room. 

“Let me see,” you spoke up from behind him. 

He stepped forward into the house and allowed you to follow suit. As soon as you were both safely inside, he shut the door, manually locking it. He was surprised at the addition of windows to the cabin. As you wandered around and explored the place, he parted the blackout curtain that hung upon one of the front windows, tapping the glass with his fingertips. It was bulletproof. 

He eyed the architecture of the house, assessing what it was made out of. It he had to guess, there was also bulletproof material within the wall panels. Although the cabin looked normal, it was anything but. It was designed to blend in, to not raise suspicion. 

And then his eyes traveled to the bearskin rug, and something told him to check it out. As you were rifling around in the kitchen, he stepped over to the seating area and kicked at the rug with his foot. It seemed to be fastened to the floor. So he knelt down and pulled at each edge until one gave way, lifting up to reveal a hiding space beneath the floor. 

He grabbed his small utility flashlight he kept on his belt and shined the light inside. This was the bunker he’d assumed he was taking you to. It was very clearly designed to withstand any sort of disaster. I hoped he wouldn’t have to utilize it. 

“What’s that?” You came up behind him, peering over his shoulder. 

“Bunker.” He slammed the door shut. With the rug overtop of it, it didn’t look out of place at all. Bob turned to you, his expression serious. “If anything happens, we go down there.”

You held his gaze, your own fearful. “Bobby…how bad is it?” You wanted to know the severity of the threat. You wanted to know if you’d be forced to hide in that bunker. 

Bob stepped closer to you, allowing himself the physical connection he’d deprived you both of in his haste to get you here safely. His hand came up to cup your cheek. “Bad enough that your dad was spooked. Bad enough that Simpson thought we should bring you to the safe house.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, lifting your hand to rest it gently overtop of his own. “I’m tired of this,” you whispered. 

“I know,” he whispered back. He wanted to assure you that he’d protect you. That you were safe with him. But the words felt so insignificant. Yes, he would protect you, but that didn’t change the fact that a threat had still been made to your life. You, the most precious soul he’d ever known. You, kind and giving and compassionate. You, the one who loved him. How could anyone target you?

You leaned in close, and his mind ceased its wandering. Your free hand was placed gently against his chest, over his heart. And then you spoke. “Do you think that maybe…we could pretend, just for a little bit, that life is normal? That we’re just two people living in their little cabin in the woods, who aren’t actually in danger of a terrorist trying to take their lives?”

Bob’s mouth curled into a halfhearted smile. “Yeah…yeah, we can do that, little love. Whatever you want.”

Little love. The endearing nickname always made your heart warm in your chest. You nestled yourself against him, lifting your head and seeking out his kiss. He gladly returned the affection, mouth fitting against yours like it was always meant to, lips meeting in a tender kiss. 

For a fleeting moment, everything felt alright. There was no looming danger. No president’s daughter and secret service agent. It was just two people, very much in love, sharing an impassioned kiss in their living room. 

And then you parted, and as Bob rested his forehead against yours, you said, “You hungry? I found a box of MREs stored away in the kitchen.”

He smiled, humming softly in amusement. “Mm, my favorite,” he teasingly replied. 

Your hands now rested on his chest. “I’ll get them ready.”

You shared one more kiss before you slipped away to saunter over to the kitchen. As you did so, Bob grabbed your duffel bag and carried it to what he assumed was a bedroom. When he opened the door, his assumption was confirmed. 

A double sized bed was positioned in the middle of the sparsely furnished room. There was a nightstand on one side of the bed and a dresser along the opposite wall, facing the bed. An empty closet was across the room. 

Bob set your bag down on the bed, and he assumed the two of you would be sharing this bed. His heart yearned for it. It had been a while since the two of you had shared a bed and spent the night snuggled up close. He missed it so. 

Although the situation that had brought you here was less than ideal, at least you would be able to spend time with each other, without having to sneak around. 

With a soft sigh, Bob stepped out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut before he quickly made his way back outside, with intentions of doing a perimeter sweep to make sure the area was secure. Once he was satisfied, he made his way back to the house, stopping only to grab his own overnight bag that had been stashed in the trunk of the sedan. 

Moments later, he was inside with you again, the door locked securely behind him. 

In the meantime, you were at work in the kitchen, reading the directions on your MRE packet. When he entered the room, you looked up, and then motioned to the bin of pre-packaged food kits you had found. 

“Take your pick. There’s macaroni in tomato sauce, chili, spaghetti, and some bean and cheese thing.”

He chose the macaroni in tomato sauce, assuming it would be the safest option. Together, you prepared your respective meals, and you couldn’t help but find it a little humorous that your first time cooking together consisted of making military grade survival meals. 

“I haven’t eaten one of these in years,” Bob mused, as he activated the heating element. A memory flashed in his mind. A not so happy one. “Last time I had one was when my plane went down during a mission. Natasha was flying with me then. We were stuck in the woods for days.”

You frowned softly at his admission. “How did you make it back?”

“Some nice farmer saw us along the road and we were able to hitch a ride with him into the nearest town. We radioed for help.”

“Why didn’t search and rescue come for you?”

“Partly because we went down in enemy territory. And because our plane literally exploded into a million pieces. We were presumed dead.”

Your previously chipper mood was dampened a bit as you imagined him and Natasha, yet another trusted agent in your security detail, lost and potentially injured  in unfamiliar territory. “Did you get hurt when the plane went down?” You asked. 

He nodded. “Got some nasty cuts. Some burns, too. You know the scar on my side?”

You hummed in realization. You did know it. You’d run your fingers over the six inch long scar many times while laying in bed with him. 

“That was shrapnel from the blow. Cut me pretty good. Nat stitched it up for me, actually. Kind of embarrassed to admit I passed out during it.”

You reached out, touching his arm gently. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. I can’t even imagine, Bobby. That must’ve been awful.”

He nodded. “But we got through it. Nat’s one determined gal. She told me she was gonna get me home safe. And she did. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive right now.”

Your hand moved from his arm, resting against his back, thumb stroking circles along his spine. Your touch grounded him. “Remind me to thank her.”

He smiled softly as he finished preparing his food. He was beyond grateful that the Fates had decided to spare him. Had they not, he never would have met you, the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Joining the Secret Service had never been part of Bob’s plan. He’d never even considered it. But Agent Mitchell had recommended him to the president, and after Bob had fulfilled his commitment of time to the Navy, he’d moved over to The White House, where he became part of security. 

In fact, the entirety of your personal security detail had been recommended to your father by Pete Mitchell. With you making more public appearances and doing charity work, it put you on the radar. Your father wanted the best security detail possible for you, and because he trusted Pete’s judgment, he brought them in to begin the interview process. In the end, all of them were hired. 

But only one was the head of your detail. Only Bob was entrusted with every minute detail of your safety. Not because the others couldn’t be trusted, or because they were incapable. Far from it. It was his sharpness and his ability to assess threats quickly. It was his respectfulness and penchant for following the rules (or so everyone thought). Out of the group of agents assigned to you, Bob stood out above the rest. 

In the words of your father, Seresin was too cocky, Bradshaw too aloof, and Trace too emotional. You strongly disagreed with his words. You didn’t like the assessments he’d made of each agent. You thought he was being unfair and harsh. Especially with Natasha. Calling her too emotional was crossing over into sexist territory, you felt. If anything, Bradley was the emotional one. But you didn’t argue with your dad. Whatever POTUS says, goes. 

None of the supposed “downfalls” your father saw in each agent affected their ability to protect you. All of them put their lives on the line every single day to ensure your safety. 

But in the end, they hadn’t been put solely in charge of your security team. Bob had. And now here you stood, in safe house in the middle of the Virginia wilderness, eating survival food and pretending everything was fine. Just you and him. 

Strangely enough, you were grateful. Grateful that he was the one you were with. And maybe it was for selfish reasons, but you didn’t care. You just hated that your only opportunity to be alone with him as of late was because of the imminent danger posed to your life. 

But you would cherish the time you were allotted. 

That night, in the quietness of that little cabin in the woods, the two of you sat at the oak dining table adjacent to the kitchen, with your feet resting in Bob’s lap. You drank the electrolyte drink mixes that were provided in your MREs, pretending they were some sort of fancy alcoholic cocktail, if only for your sanity’s sake. 

For the rest of the evening, you didn’t acknowledge the circumstances that had brought you here. Instead, you talked of anything and everything. It wasn’t often that you had a chance to have such meaningful conversations with one another. Your time together was usually short. Secret meetings under the cover of darkness. Stolen moments of passion in hotel rooms. Intimate embraces where no prying eyes could see. 

But flashes of reality still shocked you like a splash of cold water to the face. Such as the fact that Bob’s gun was still strapped to his hip. Or the fact that he went around the house making sure all the blackout curtains were drawn, and double checking the lock system on the door. 

You tried to ignore it. Focused on cleaning up your haphazard dinner instead. But there was still a feeling of unease in your gut. Bob seemed to notice your anxiety, ever observant, and he approached you as you wiped down the table with a dish cloth you’d found in one of the drawers. His arms encircled your waist, and you sighed, leaning back against him, letting your eyes flutter shut. 

“Hey,” he whispered, nuzzling his face against the back of your neck. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You turned around in his hold, placing your hands upon his chest. “I know. I just…I’m trying to pretend everything is fine but it’s hard when there’s a literal bunker beneath us, and you’re walking around with your gun on your hip, and checking the state of the art locking system on the door over there.”

Bob glanced down at the weapon in its holster. “Here,” he said. He stepped back, removing his belt, and taking the holster along with it. He took the gun and carried it into the bedroom, where he placed it on the singular nightstand beside the bed. Then he rejoined you in the main room. 

“Is that better?” He asked. 

“A little,” you replied with a nod, welcoming him into your arms again. 

He dipped his head low, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. “I love you, sweet girl.”

Your chest warmed. “I love you too.”

A large hand lifted up, fingers stroking your cheek. “You want to play pretend? We’ll play pretend.” His arm then came down to wrap around your waist, palm pressed into the small of your back. “This is our homestead, right? And you…you are my pretty little wife.” His free hand tapped your nose with his fingers. 

“Oh? I like the sound of that,” came your soft reply. 

His arm tightened around you. “Mhm. And I just came in from a long day of workin’ the land. Looks like we’re gonna have a good harvest, too. Won’t go hungry this winter.” 

Your mouth curved into a fond smile. His accent was coming through. Picked up from summers spent on his granddaddy’s ranch. “Take such good care of me,” you said. “My strong, handsome man.”

He kissed you again, this time more languidly. “Always gonna take care of my wife.”

That promise translated outside of this silly little roleplay, too. You knew he’d always look out for you. “What would I do without my Bobby?” You asked. 

He gently bumped noses with you, enjoying the closeness. It made you a little dizzy. You hadn’t been in his big, strong arms like this in a while. You’d missed it more than you realized. The close proximity of your bodies had you growing breathless, and your fingers grasped at the fabric of his button down. 

“I…can we…” You couldn’t get the words out. But he knew what you wanted. 

“You need me, honey?”

You nodded, caught off guard when tears welled in your eyes. “Please,” you whimpered pitifully. It hit you hard, like a blow to the chest. You hadn’t expected the feeling to be so intense, but now you were leaning into him for support, afraid your knees would give way if you tried to stand on your own. 

“I’ve got you. Let’s go to the bedroom, okay?”

With his arm secured around you, he led you to the room. There, he guided you to sit on the bed before he turned on the little beside lamp on the nightstand. It didn’t give off much light, but it did cast a soft, warm glow over the bed. 

And then he was in front of you again, but this time, he was kneeling, placing his hands on your knees as he looked up at you. “If you want to stop at any time, you tell me, alright?”

You nodded. 

“Words, lovey.”

“Yes sir.”

He wanted to be a little more careful with you in this moment. Not that he wasn’t careful with you all the time, but he had a feeling you needed a little more tenderness than usual. Having your life threatened was a harrowing experience. He wanted to give you the intimacy and closeness you needed. He wanted to be a comfort to you. 

As he rose to his feet, a big, gentle hand cupped your cheek. You lifted your head, gazing up at him. His thumb lovingly stroked your bottom lip, and you instinctively opened your mouth, wrapping your lips around the digit. 

He watched in awe as your eyes began to grow glassy, and your gaze softened. All it took was his thumb in your mouth to turn you pliant. He smiled fondly, his eyes twinkling. 

And what beautiful eyes they were. You gazed up into them, so clear and blue, but somehow dark in the lowlight, as if the bright blue had turned brown. You could feel the tension leaving your body as you suckled on his thumb. The taste of his skin was familiar and soothing. 

“Poor thing. Just needed to shut your brain off for a bit, huh?” He murmured. 

“Mhm,” you hummed around his thumb. 

“I’ve got you. Don’t have to do any thinking with me. I’ll do it all for you.”

You liked the sound of that. You could let go of the stressors. Your circumstances. Your position as daughter of the President of the United States. Your political commitments. All of it could be forgotten, if only for a little while. 

So you gave yourself to him. To your Bobby. You let him take care of you, because he knew what was best at that moment in time. 

“C’mere,” he said. He took a seat on the bed, his back leaning against the headboard. As you scrambled over to him, he caught you, pulling you into his lap so that you were straddling him. His hands rested at your hips. Your own fell to his broad shoulders. The muscles rippled beneath your touch. 

With your body slotted against his like this, you felt so warm and secure. Like you were meant to fit together. In the warm glow of the lamp, and in the softness of the bed, it all felt so domestic. As if you truly were husband and wife, living in your little cabin in the woods. 

And then your mind began to wander, and you considered what it might be like if he truly was your husband. If you were allowed to live out your relationship without fear of being found out. 

You wanted that, you realized. You wanted it so badly. But you couldn’t have it. Not yet. So instead, you played pretend. You dove forward, connecting your lips with his, kissing him deeply, pouring all the passion you had into it. And he kissed you back with just as much fervor. 

Your hands moved from his shoulders to rest upon the sides of his neck. Your fingers slipped through the hair at the nape of his neck, nails ever so lightly scraping at the skin, making him shiver against you and moan into your mouth. 

You rotated your hips downward in the process, and he gasped, his grip tightening on your waist. So you moved your hips again. And again. Soon, you were rutting against him, searching out that delicious friction. The seam of your shorts caught against you in just the right place, and the stimulation had his cock hardening beneath you. 

He let his head thunk back against the headboard, biting his lip and closing his eyes. “Oh, just like that, honey,” he encouraged, breathless. 

“Feels so good,” you whined. 

“I know. Been too long, hasn’t it?” he cooed, bringing you closer so your forehead was pressed to his. 

“H-how long?” you wondered, shivering as he lifted his hips to meet your own. 

He remembered. Of course he did. “Last month. When you visited that one university.”

Oh, yes. Now you remembered. You’d really gone an entire month without touching him? No wonder you ached so terribly inside. You needed him. 

“Bobby,” you whimpered then. 

“I know, baby. I know.”

He was kissing you again, except this time, he rotated you, gently easing you onto the bed so he could hover over you. Then he began the reverent undressing of your body. He pulled your shirt over your head, leaving a kiss against your clavicle as he easily rid you of your undergarments. Then came your shorts and panties, tossed aside carelessly. 

This left you entirely bare to him, and oh, how naked you felt. But he distracted you from any trepidation you felt. He took your hands in his own, lifting them to his shirt, prompting you to unbutton it. Those big hands hovered over yours as you did, there to help if you were trembling too much to do it. 

In no time, the shirt was unbuttoned, and he tossed it to the floor before he made quick work of removing his white undershirt. Immediately, your hands splayed across his chest. Well-defined because he worked his ass off staying fit. His job was not for the faint of heart or body. He had to stay on top of his game. 

“If ya can stop ogling my chest for a minute, I’ll get my pants off,” he teased. 

You looked up at him before turning your head away shyly. He couldn’t help but hum in gentle amusement. You were just the most precious thing. 

Quickly, he shoved his pants and boxers down his legs, kicking them asunder, leaving you both naked as the day you were born. As soon as his body was slotted against yours, you sighed in deep relief. Finally. 

His mouth was on yours again, and his arms were at either side of your head, effectively caging you in. He overwhelmed your every sense, and it was glorious. In such close proximity, you could smell his cologne, and that natural, heady scent that could only be described as him. 

“Pretty girl,” he whispered in awe, his mouth trailing down your jaw, across your neck, over your collarbone. Reverence. Worship. 

As he kissed your heated skin, he moved to slip his hand between your thighs. Deft fingers tenderly parted your delicate folds, prodding at your entrance. First one finger, slid in deep. Then two. You whined into his mouth as he crooked those fingers upward, intent on locating that spongey little spot that made you shiver. 

It didn’t take him long. He knew your body so well. Knew exactly what to do to have you purring for him. You were so responsive to his touch as it was. 

“Gotta open you up for me, lovey,” he soothed. “Been a while since you took all of me.” 

Those fingers pumped in and out of you, and his thumb came up to swirl around your clit as he did so. You were oversensitive. Not only had you not been touched by him in over a month, but you hadn’t touched yourself, either. You’d hardly had any downtime, and when you did, you spent it resting. Now, you were so pent up that Bob’s gentle stimulation of your neglected pussy was already beginning to overwhelm you. 

In the meantime, he continued to trail searing kisses across your skin. Over the softness of your breasts. Teeth gently tugging at your pebbled nipples. Tongue soothing the sting. 

In the meantime, you grew wetter around his fingers, your body opening up to him, welcoming him in. And then he added a third finger, and you squealed, jolting against him. You felt his mouth curl into a smile against you.

Then he lifted his head to gaze down at the way your cunt stretched around those fingers. “Oh, look at this sweet little pussy. My fingers barely fit. I don’t know if it’ll be able to take my cock.”

He was teasing you. But in your hazy state, you took him seriously. “No! No, I can take it! Please, I need it!” You gasped. 

This prompted him to place his thumb in your mouth again. “Shh, I know. I’m gonna give it to you, I promise.” A gentle kiss to your lips before he leaned back. He removed his fingers from you, and you watched as he used the slick of your arousal as lubricant for his cock, smearing it over the velvety skin. You whimpered at the sight. 

You so desperately needed that cock inside you. Thick and heavy, with a blushed tip that was dripping with his own desire. You found yourself reaching for it, wrapping your fingers around him, longing to feel the heaviness in your hand. 

He gasped softly as your grip tightened and your thumb brushed over that pretty pink head, gathering the wetness that had gathered at the slit. You found yourself salivating, suddenly wishing he was in your mouth, warm on your tongue. But at the same time, you wanted to be filled by him so badly. It made you ache. 

Gently, he lifted your hand away, replacing it with his own. He slid the underside of his cock through your slick, and you both moaned lowly when the plush head caught at your clit. Again, he thrust his hips forward, teasing you. When he pulled back, he positioned himself at your entrance, slipping in only ever so slightly, enough to pull a desirous whine from you before he pulled back. 

“D-don’t tease,” you squeaked out. 

“I know. Just tryin’ to savor it. Might not get to do this again for a while.”

You pulled him down, kissing him deeply. “Don’t think about that right now. Just fuck me, Bobby. Please.”

“Uh-huh.” With his mouth open against your own, he finally inched his hips forward, moving so his arms were at either side of your head again, and his chest was pressed to yours. Forward, forward, forward, until…

“Oh!”

He was fully sheathed inside you, every last inch. It was the thickness that took your breath away. He felt so big, yet at the same time, it felt as if he was made to fit inside you in this way. You would never tire of the feeling of his body connected to yours. 

Bob couldn’t help but glance down, marveling at the way you stretched around him. He allowed himself a moment to bask in the feeling of the snug warmth. He had missed it so much. Missed you so much. “I love you,” he said with conviction. It warmed you to your core.

“Love you too,” you sighed out blissfully, eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your legs around his waist, and your arms around those broad shoulders of his.

His hand caressed your face as he began to move, nudging his hips into yours. He kept things slow to begin with, intending to build up to a glorious crescendo. All the while, he held you close, resting his weight upon your body, grounding you, surrounding you. He cherished it all. The feeling of your warmth, the beating of your heart. A reminder that you were safe, that you were alive, that you were here, with him.

His mouth found its way to yours again, trailing down further to lave his tongue against your pulse point. “You are everything to me,” he breathed against your feverish skin. You were his life, his love, his angel.

You couldn’t speak, for you were too overwhelmed. Your heart sang, and the true reason for being here in thise safe house seemed to fade into the background as white noise. Your Bobby was on the forefront, infiltrating every one of your senses, wrapping you up in his love and adoration. You never wanted it to end.

As he began to quicken his pace, you held onto him tightly, every inch of your bodies touching, warm and familiar, safe and secure. You let yourself be vulnerable, let him chip away at the armor you always protected herself with. Oh, how good it felt to let him be your protector. He encased you in his warmth, and that warmth began to radiate throughout your body, thrumming deep within your belly. He kissed yu repeatedly, lips ever brushing against yours, swallowing your precious whimpers and moans, holding onto those sounds, locking them away in his memory.

In the back of his mind, he partly wondered if this would be the last time you were able to make love to each other. What if he slipped up and was dismissed from his duties, effectively barring him from ever being with you again? He hated that his mind went to such a morbid place, but it was hard to ignore.

But then you were drawing him in again with those soft sounds, sighing out his name, and your sweet pussy was fluttering around him, and he was brought back to the present moment. How could he let himself be anywhere else but here, with you in his arms? How could he let himself be distracted when the love of his life sighed and shivered in pleasure beneath him? Because of him?

“Feel so good,” you squeaked. Your eyes were closed, your brow furrowed in utter bliss. You looked rather adorable this way. He was so in love.

You were so wet, and he realized that you were quickly growing wetter by the minute. He could feel you dripping down against his heavy balls, and onto the bed covers below, and it only urged him to change his pace. You tightened your legs around his waist, inviting him deeper inside. As he thrust particularly deeply into you, you cried out softly. He’d bumped into that wonderful spot within you, sending you tightening around him, arousal slicking down the base of his cock. 

“Oh, right there!” You exclaimed, fingernails pressing crescent shapes into the skin of his back. He ducked a hand between you then, stimulating your sensitive little clit in such a way that your eyes rolled back, mouth falling open. The way you clenched around him again had him growling lowly, the heat of impending release already beginning to warm in his pelvis. How was he already so close? And then he remembered how long it had been since he’d had you like this, and it made sense.

He applied more pressure with his fingers, driving his hips forward with more force. He was hit with a sudden wave of desperation, wanting, needing you to come before he did. He’d stave off his own pleasure for as long as possible if it meant making you feel good. Beneath him, you were on fire, arousal rushing through your very being like raw electricity, consuming every part of you in its wake. And you let yourself be swallowed up in the feeling, suddenly overcome with intense emotion as tears began sliding down your cheeks. 

Bob cradled you against his chest, though he didn’t slow down. You needed him to keep going, and he wasn’t going to stop until you fell apart. And it was so close you could taste it, building and building and building. A vibration that began in your core, a peak that you were hurtling towards but couldn’t quite reach yet. It was a height that only your lover could bring you to. 

Sweet, tender love making turned into something so much more primal. His chest heaved against yours, and he growled deeply, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he kissed you. Warmth blossomed between you both, growing into a wild flame. Your bodies fell into a desperate push and pull, faster and harder and deeper, chasing the pleasure high that you knew was inevitable. 

He could feel you tighten around him like a vice, and he knew you were close. He let his forehead rest against yours, though he never stopped his movements. “You’re close, I can feel it,” he spoke in a broken whisper. 

“I-I am,” you whimpered pathetically, clinging to him tightly. 

“Then come for me, my love. Just let go.”

He continued to work you over, carrying you toward that edge. You trembled fiercely, breathing labored, growing even more so. Pleasure began to fizz through you like a firework brought to life, or a pack of Pop Rocks sprinkled on the tongue. Starting at your core and bubbling all the way to your fingers and toes. 

Your body went taut against his as the first waves of it began to hit you. Almost there, almost there, almost there. And then, without warning, it hit you. Washing over you like an enormous wave, intense as could be. Seconds later, you came with a wail, convulsing beneath him as the fire of your orgasm ravaged you, surging through the entirety of your being. You cried out his name, and he was there, holding you in his arms as he watched you come apart, losing yourself because of him. 

And as you came down, you sobbed. You buried your face against his chest, crying openly, still wrapped tightly around him. And he let you cry, keeping you close. But he also needed to find his own release, you realized. Even in your state of emotion, she pulled back a little, looking into his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were blown, but there was still a tenderness in his gaze. He wouldn’t pressure you for more if you weren’t ready to move on yet.

“P-please, Bobby. Wan’ you to come in me.”

How could he ever say no when you asked so sweetly?

Satisfied with your plea, he began moving again, finding the rhythm that he needed to bring himself to his end. “Yeah? Want me to fill you up, lovey?” He breathlessly spoke. 

Glassy eyed, you nodded, bottom lip quivering. “Need it so bad,” you begged. 

His face contorted into a look of beautiful euphoria. His jaw went slack, his eyes fell shut, and he let his head fall to the crook of your neck as the climax began to overwhelm him entirely. It washed over him with great force, rendering him absolutely boneless as he keened, your name falling from his lips in a soft whimper. Beneath him, you relished in the feeling of his essence seeping into you, even as tears continued to stain your cheeks. 

His hips stuttered a few more times against yours as he made sure to fill you with everything he had to give. And as he came down, trying to catch his breath, you made no move to part from one another.

There you lay, holding each other, basking in the afterglow as the weight of his body settled atop yours. When your tears ceased, Bob very carefully slid out of you, soothing your mewl of protest with an open-mouthed kiss. As he moved to rest upon his back, he tucked you into his side, and you rested your head on his chest, right over his still racing heart. 

Gentle fingers traced circles along your arm. You hadn’t realized that you’d zoned out a little, still drunk off pleasure, until his touch brought it back down to earth. 

You placed your hand against his chest, eyeing the rise and fall of each breath he took. For a while, neither of you said anything. And when the silence finally did break, it was Bob who broke it. 

“Need to get you cleaned up, lovey. Can’t let you fall asleep like this.” 

Despite your murmur of protest, he gathered you into his arms and carried you out of the bedroom and into the bathroom just a few feet away. 

You were so sleepy, it seemed that the events of the day were finally catching up with you, paired with the romp in the sheets you’d just gone on with Bob. You were in a haze as he tenderly cleaned you up and urged you to use the restroom. 

“I’ve got you,” his low, comforting voice assured you. You could allow yourself to remain in that hazy state, because you knew he would take care of you. He always did. 

He led you back to the bedroom, where he helped you change into the pajamas you had brought. Once you were taken care of, he tucked you into bed and kissed you on the forehead before he proceeded to ready himself for bed. A shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Easy, in case he needed to jump out of bed and tend to a threat in the middle of the night. 

Then he slipped into bed beside you, and you immediately snuggled into him, content to be in his arms, enjoying his warmth. You would cherish every last moment you had with him. Safe and secure, your head on his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart. Oh, how you loved him. 

You were lulled into a deep, comforting slumber. In fact, it was the best sleep you’d gotten in weeks. Just his presence alone gave you rest. 

But while you slept peacefully, Bob remained awake. He couldn’t sleep, not when he had to watch over you. He was tempted to get up and do a perimeter sweep outside, just to make sure everything was safe. But you were sleeping so peacefully in his arms that he didn’t want to disturb you. 

At some point during the night, he did drift off into a light slumber, still partially alert, always ready to address danger, should it come knocking on the door. 

And, unfortunately, it did. 

At around 0400 hours, Bob was alerted to movement outside. It wasn’t loud. But there was a strange rustling in the woods, and the snapping of twigs. Instantly, his eyes were open, and he held his breath, hoping he’d just dreamt the sounds. But then he heard it again, and his heart seized in his chest. 

Without hesitation, he eased you out of his arms, and you remained sleeping while he slipped out of bed, grabbing his gun from the nightstand and rushing to put his earpiece back in his ear so he could communicate with White House security if need be. 

There were no windows in the bedroom, so he quickly and quietly scrambled to the front of the house, where he stopped at the window and discreetly lifted the edge of the curtain to peer outside. Sure enough, he saw two figures dressed in black gear approaching from the tree line. 

And that’s when he realized one of them was already at the door, working on the security keypad. Bob knew, in that moment, that he should have trusted his gut feeling from the beginning. Where the hell had Agent Simpson sent the two of you? Because there was no way this was a safe house if it was this easy to get into.

But there was no time to debate the security of the house. Danger was right on the doorstep, and his first priority was protecting you. So he sprang into action, rushing back to the bedroom where you slept peacefully. 

“Safe house is compromised,” he reported into his mic, just before he leaned down to shake you awake. 

“Copy. Get into the bunker. Sending backup now,” Simpson’s voice crackled to life in his ear.

Bob didn’t reply. He was too focused on waking you. “Hey, hey, need you to wake up for me, honey.” He shook you vigorously until you stirred from your slumber.

You stared up at him in confusion, your eyes bleary. “Bobby? Wha-?”

“No time. Get up, we need to get under the house now. They found us.”

That woke you up. Your eyes widened, and you sat upright, throwing the covers from your body as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. “How?!”

“I don’t know! Just come with me!” He yanked you to your feet, hands tight on your arms, catching you when you stumbled. 

Adrenaline coursed through you, wiping away the sleep-induced fog that had been cast over your brain. Bob’s remained closed firmly around your wrist and he pulled you after him out of the bedroom, intending to take you down into the bunker. But in a split second, he stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back with a surprised gasp.

He could only just catch sight of the door coming open. There was no time to make it to the trap door that would lead you to safety beneath the house. Going for it would result in the two of you being spotted and killed instantly. He had a split second to make a decision. This was life or death.

He whirled around, and in the darkness, you could see the wildness in his eyes, and it sent an icy shock of terror through you. Without a word, he clamped his hand over your mouth, silencing you before he pushed you back toward the bedroom.

Your heart pounded against your chest, your entire body trembling with fear as he released you and turned to shut the bedroom door silently. Thank God there was a lock on it, which he promptly turned, careful to do it silently. Then he whirled back around to face you. “Get under the bed. No matter what happens, you do not come out unless I tell you to.” His voice was so low it was barely audible, but you heard every word. And then, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your eyes filled with tears. You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions, sinking to your knees and maneuvering your body underneath the bed. Bob yanked the covers down so they were hanging from the edge of the mattress, effectively obscuring you from view. It was only a temporary solution, but it would do.

Then, his hand closed around the cool metal of his gun, which he pulled from his waistband and positioned himself a few feet away from the door, weapon drawn, hands steady as he flipped the safety off. He could hear Simpson’s voice in his earpiece, asking for confirmation that the two of you had made it down into the bunker. But Bob couldn’t answer. Silence was what was going to keep you alive at the moment.

He placed his finger against the trigger, ready to pull it at any second. Whoever was on the other side of the door was quiet, but he could still hear them. Creeping closer and closer, inch by inch. And then, the doorknob rattled, and Bob felt his breath catch in his throat.

You pressed your own hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut. Bob’s eyes never left that door. He counted down in his head. Five. The silence was broken as the person threw their weight against the door. Four. Again, their body thudded against the door. Three. Two steps backward. Two. Bob realized what was about to happen. One. He threw his body to the side just as the sound of a gunshot rang through the house. Wood splintered. Smoke curled through the air. 

Bob had moved aside just in time. A second too late and he would be suffering from a gunshot wound. But just as quickly as he moved, his gun was in the air again, held steadily in front of him. As soon as he had the assailant in his sights, he fired. 

Beneath the bed, your hands came up to your ears, protecting them from the awful sound. You couldn’t see around the quilt obscuring your vision. You prayed silently that Bob was unharmed. And he was. He’d just put one perpetrator down. You’d heard the thud of the body hitting the floor. 

But he had no idea how many more there were. 

He would soon find out.

Seconds later, more footsteps. Bob fired. But the second man was expecting it, and kept his body partially hidden by the doorway as he lifted his rifle and aimed it at Bob. The secret service agent ducked quickly, firing his own weapon in retaliation. 

He put up a good fight. Really, he did. Bob had always been seen as a pacifist, and by nature, he was. But that didn’t mean he shied away from a fight. And when he did have to utilize physical force, there was a calculated tenacity with which he fought. He was a worthy opponent. 

He disarmed the second man quickly. Grazed his cheek with a bullet and used that split-second distraction to dive for the gun that belonged to the dead man on the floor. But then, a voice stopped him. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Bob looked up to find three men pointing rifles at his head. He was cornered. 

“Drop the fuckin’ weapon.”

He did. He was severely outnumbered. If he tried anything, he’d be shot dead on the spot. That would leave you entirely vulnerable and alone. 

The one in the middle stepped forward. He was tall. Dark hair. Beard. couldn’t have been much older than Bob himself. Dark eyes stared murderously at the agent kneeling on the ground. He never lowered his rifle. 

“We’re just here for the girl. Tell us where she is.”

“She’s not here,” Bob lied through his teeth.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. We staked you out. We know you brought her here. Now where is she, huh?” Then, he called out into the room in a singsong voice that made your skin crawl, “come out, come out wherever you are!”

“She’s not going to come out, because she’s not here!”

The stranger rolled his eyes. “Alright, then you won’t mind if I fire a couple of precautionary shots, right? Just to make doubly sure?” He aimed his gun at the bed you were currently stowed beneath. 

Bob’s stomach dropped. “Hey, there’s no reason to waste ammunition on–”

“Ah! So she is here!”

And just like that, it all fell apart.

One of the assailants forced Bob into a prone position on the floor, his gun pressed to the back of his head. He reached down and ripped Bob’s earpiece out of his ear, tossing it to the hardwood floor and stomping on it, effectively cutting off any and all communication with The White House. And then, Bob watched helplessly as you were dragged from beneath the bed, kicking and screaming. 

And all he could think, was that he’d failed you. 

“Bobby!” You wailed.

“Hey! What is it that you want, huh?! Money?! We’ll give it to you, I can make a call to Washington, get it wired to–”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” the man above him snarled, smacking him square in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle. Bob’s vision went white as searing pain radiated through his skull. 

“It’s not about money,” said the one who had wrestled you from beneath the bed. “It’s about sending a message to her daddy.”

You whimpered in fright as he grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks hard. His expression was full of hatred. It chilled you to your very core. “We’ll make him wish he’d never taken office.”

“Let her go!” Bob cried desperately from the floor, though he was in no position to be making demands.

“No, I don’t think we will.” The man began to haul you out of the room, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your screams. He glanced at the one standing over Bob. “Make sure he can’t follow us.” 

As you were dragged into the hall, you heard the sound of a single shot ring out, and you sobbed behind the hand pressed to your mouth. No!

But Bob wasn’t dead. He was very much alive, his teeth clenched so hard he was sure he would break them, letting out a muffled, tormented scream behind them. White hot pain traveled up his thigh, and with it, a violent sense of nausea overwhelmed him. His assailant had shot him in the leg. 

And then he was left alone in that bedroom, helpless to do anything as you were carried away, putting up a fight despite being overpowered. Crying out in absolute agony, Bob fought to drag himself upright, though his head spun and his leg throbbed wickedly. He had to stop them. Had to get to you. 

It took every ounce of strength in his being to pull himself upright, but by that time, it was too late. They had taken you outside. He’d never reach you in time. After everything he had done to keep you safe, he had lost you in the end. He would never forgive himself as long as he lived. 

But then, hope. 

All of the sudden, the sound of a helicopter approaching could be heart, and not long after, blinding white light shone through the front door. Moments later, a magnified voice called out, “Homeland Security! We have you surrounded!”

What happened next was a blur. There was shouting. So much shouting. Outside, you were blinded by the lights, reaching your hands up to shield your eyes. The sounds around you were deafening. Someone fired a shot. Then another. Hands grabbed at you. You had no idea who they belonged to. But they pulled you away from the men who had taken you, guiding you to the sidelines, away from the danger. 

But you didn’t want to go to the sidelines. You wanted to run back to your Bobby. “Let go! I need to see if Bobby’s alright!”

“Miss, we can send someone to check on him, right now I need you to—”

“No! They shot him! I have to know that he’s okay!”

You argued back and forth for a moment before you got the drop on the agent trying to restrain you. You threw your weight downwards and she released you out of surprise. You didn’t feel bad when you elbowed your way past her. You probably should have, because after all, she was just trying to do her job. But nothing else mattered to you in that moment than knowing Bob’s fate. If he was dying, you needed to be by his side to say goodbye. You weren’t about to miss your last chance to be with him.

So you made a dash for the house, ducking back inside, frantic. 

“Bobby!” You cried out, scrambling toward the bedroom. Sickening dread coursed through you. What were you about to walk in on? Would you find the love of your life dead on the ground? 

But then, you heard it. “I-in here!”

As soon as you burst into the room, you saw him. He’d tried to stand, but had crumpled to the ground in severe pain, and was now leaning back against the side of the bed, injured leg stretched out in front of him. 

“Oh dear God.” You rushed to his aid, dropping to your knees beside him. “I’m here! I’m right here!”

His pant leg was soaked with crimson, and he’d placed his hand over the wound, in effort to slow the bleeding. “I-I’m okay,” he assured you, gazing into your frightened face. “Can you get my belt for me? It’s on the floor on the other side of the bed.” It sounded as if it took great labor for him to get the words out. 

You didn’t hesitate. You jumped up and ran around to the other side of the bed, grabbing his belt. As soon as you handed it to him, he got to work tightening it around his thigh as a makeshift tourniquet. 

Voices could be heard out in the main room of the cabin. You knew that you would soon be separated. It sent a terrible wave of dread through you, and you reached for Bob. 

“Bobby,” you tearfully spoke. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assured you, his tourniquet finished. His clean hand came up to cup your cheek. “You’ll be in good hands. I’ll see you again real soon.”

“But I don’t—”

“Honey, listen to me. Need you to be my brave girl, okay? I can’t go with you. They’re gonna take me to the hospital. And after that there’s a whole protocol I have to go through. But those agents out there, they’ll get you to safety. I promise you.”

Weeping, you wrapped your arms around his neck once more before you pulled back, just as none other than Agent Simpson walked into the room, his gun drawn. 

Bob protectively placed an arm in front of you. “It’s all clear!” He called out. The assailant on the floor a few feet away from you both had long since been dead and did not pose a threat. Simpson still turned him over with his foot just to make absolutely certain that he was dead. 

Beau approached you, kneeling so that he was eye level with you. His expression was neutral, but there was sympathy in his eyes. “I need you to come with me. I’ll see to it that you get back home safely. The threat to your life has been neutralized.”

“Agent Simpson, he’s been shot,” you whimpered, motioning to Bob. 

“I see it. I’ve got a medic chopper on the way. We’ll transport him to the hospital. Right now, you’ve got two parents who are worried sick about you. Let’s get you back to them.”

“But—”

“Go with him,” Bob gently coaxed. “There’s nothing else you can do for me here. I’ll be fine.”

You gazed into his face, tears blurring your vision. “O-okay,” you whispered. 

You wanted so badly to kiss him goodbye. But even now, you were hyper aware of Simpson’s presence and you knew you couldn’t openly show romantic affection to Bob in front of him. 

So you allowed Agent Simpson to escort you from the room. You cast one more glance over your shoulder at your injured lover, before you finally left him behind. It felt like your heart was being torn in two. You longed to stay by his side, to board that medical helicopter with him and wait at the hospital while they tended to his injury. 

But you supposed you did have one thing to be grateful for. At least he wasn’t dead. 

As you were led outside, the early morning light was just beginning to peek over the horizon. It illuminated the carnage that had taken place. You gasped as you realized that the three remaining men who had tried to take you were dead. But there were others. Others you hadn’t seen. They were in custody, ready to be taken in for questioning. In one night, Homeland Security had succeeded in taking down a homegrown terrorist organization. 

But that begged the question: why on earth had they been after you? It didn’t matter, because no one would answer your question, anyway. 

You were led to a waiting car, where you realized Bradley Bradshaw and Natasha Trace were waiting for you. After what you had been through, you were relieved to see them. 

“Hey kid,” Bradley greeted you. 

“I sure am glad to see you,” you breathed. 

“We’re glad to see you, too,” Natasha replied. 

Bradley opened the door, and Nat slid into the seat first before you took your place in the middle, while he brought up the rear and closed the door behind him. 

Javy Machado, who was driving, glanced back at you. “Good to see you safe and sound,” he said with a small smile. 

You didn’t feel safe and sound. You felt harrowed and anxious. 

The entire drive to The White House, you didn’t say a word. You stared out the window and fought to hold back your tears. What had gone wrong? How had those men found you? It seemed too easy. As if you and Bob had been nothing more than sitting ducks. 

You were fortunate that all he had sustained was a shot to the leg. And you were even more fortunate that you had not been physically harmed. You were more emotionally scarred than anything. You weren’t sure how long it would take you to recover, but you knew you needed time. And most of all, you needed Bob. 

But that was out of the question. 

Instead, you had to hold your head high as you climbed out of the car once you had arrived at The White House. Waiting for you were Jake, Reuben, and Mickey. They reported your safe arrival through their mics, and then carefully led you into the building.

“Glad you’re home safe,” Jake softly told you.

You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t muster one. You were already steeling yourself for being reunited with your parents. You knew your mother would be teetering toward hysterics, and your father would likely be stoic, as he often was. You loved them, but you were overwhelmed.

Your mind was elsewhere, longing for your Bobby.

Meanwhile, he was just arriving at the hospital, where a team of medical personnel had already been warned of his arrival. He was a little delirious from the blood loss and the pain, but he could hear the terms they were throwing back and forth. 

They were going to operate immediately. 

“Agent Floyd?” A woman’s voice filled his ears. She was strawberry blonde, with kind blue eyes that reminded him of his mother’s. “I’m Doctor Vitarella. We’re gonna get this bullet outta you as fast as we can, alright?”

He mumbled something in reply, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Then an oxygen mask was placed over his face, and he found himself slipping into a dark and dreamless slumber. The first thing he noticed when he woke a few hours later was the cast.

As consciousness washed over him, he gazed down at it, stretching from his foot to the top of his thigh. Still groggy, he glanced around the room, and saw a nurse walking into the room with a clipboard in hand. She looked up and realized that he was awake. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Floyd,” she said with a smile. “I’ll go get the doctor. She’ll want to talk to you.”

She scurried away before he could say anything. About five minutes later, the woman he vaguely remembered as Doctor Vitarella walked into the room. “You, sir, gave me a run for my money in the operating room,” she said.

Bob looked at her confusedly, still not fully out of his anesthesia-induced haze. 

“When the bullet entered your leg, it fractured your femur. I inserted a rod into your leg to provide solid support to the bone. But you should know that the second it came in contact with the bone, the bullet broke into a bunch of tiny little pieces. My team and I did the best that we could, but I must inform you that there are still leftover fragments in your leg. I could not get those out without causing more damage.”

As he mulled over her words, Bob only had one question. “Will I be able to use my leg again?”

“With proper physical therapy, yes. But you’ll likely live with lasting pain. I wish I had a better prognosis for you, but what matters is that we stopped the bleeding and set the bone.”

He nodded solemnly. There were still bullet fragments in his body. A constant reminder of what he had been through. He felt as if he hadn’t let it fully sink in yet. Everything had been such a blur. Being carried on a stretcher out of the safe house because he couldn’t walk. Being placed into a helicopter and then rushed into the hospital.

And now here he was, on his back in a hospital bed, his leg aching something fierce. No, not aching. Throbbing. As the fog began to clear from his brain, the pain set in, and he groaned softly. His head was pounding. His leg hurt enough to prompt him to clench his teeth.  “Could I get some, uh, pain meds?” He asked.

“I’ll have the nurse bring you some.”

A while later, he had been given his medicine, but it just barely took the edge off the pain. There was no distraction from it. He didn’t want to watch whatever mindless show that was playing on the television. He didn’t have his phone to scroll through. He had nothing. The only thing that made it even slightly bearable was the thought of you. 

He wondered how you were faring. He wondered if you even knew of his condition. Had anyone updated you? He imagined that you were demanding to know how he was. 

And you were. You had informed Agent Simpson yourself that you wanted a report of Bob’s health. You had to know that he was okay. Thankfully, as soon as Beau knew something, he called you right away.

“He’s gonna be okay, kid,” he said, “bullet fractured his femur, and they put him in a cast. But he’s gonna be okay.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, thanked Beau for the update, and hung up the phone. Seconds later, you burst into tears. Your Bobby was going to be okay.

But his worries were far from over. 

He was given a couple days to rest, but on his third day in the hospital, Agent Simpson walked through the door of his hospital room, and he knew it had begun. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, making courteous small talk. 

“Like hell,” Bob muttered in reply. 

Beau nodded. “Sorry to hear that.” And then, he brandished a folder from a briefcase. “I hate to jump right into business, but…I have no other choice.” He pulled up a chair and sat at Bob’s bedside. “There are a few things I need to clear up.”

“Go ahead.”

“First and foremost, why did you not utilize the bunker beneath the house? The two of you were sitting ducks where you were.”

Bob stared at his superior. “I tried. But they were in the house before I could get her there. So I hid her under the bed.”

“And why were you not aware of the threat before then? Did you not do a thorough enough perimeter sweep?”

His tone was slightly accusatory. At least, Bob took it as such. His eyes narrowed. “No disrespect, sir, but what the hell kind of safe house was that? They never should have been able to breach it that easily.” He paused for a beat, awaiting an explanation.

“I think you might already know the answer to that, agent.”

“It wasn’t a safe house at all, was it?”

Beau sighed, shaking his head. “No, it wasn’t.”

Now Bob was angry. “Y’know, my gut told me that something wasn’t right, and I just brushed it off. But I should’ve listened. You used her as bait, didn’t you? And I went right along with it like a fool.”

“Floyd, this was a tricky situation we were dealing with here. We’ve been tracking this group for months. Our only chance at luring them out was to use her as a decoy. By doing that, we in turn saved her life.”

“How is that any better?! You can’t just use someone as live bait!”

“I didn’t like doing it either, in fact it was my absolute last resort. But it worked, didn’t it? President’s daughter is safe and sound. Terrorist group has been disbanded. We have the few remaining ones in custody. It’s over. The threat to her life and our government has been neutralized.”

“And what if it didn’t work? What if she’d been killed?”

“But she wasn’t. There’s no use thinking about the what ifs. What’s done is done.”

“Does she know she was used as bait?”

Simpson shook his head, his gaze hard. “No. And it’s going to stay that way.”

Several moments of silence passed. Bob processed what he’d just been told. This entire time, he had tried so hard to keep you safe. Tried so hard to keep the danger away. And yet, the danger had still found you, all because the very administration he worked for had led them right to you. 

A sick feeling churned in his gut. He felt dirty. He hadn’t been protecting you at all. He’d been offering you up to the very men who were after you, and he didn’t even know it. 

“What did the president think about his daughter being used to lure her potential killers in?” His tone was bitter. He couldn’t help it. 

“He was in agreement that it was the most effective way of eliminating the threat.”

“So I was the only one who wasn’t clued in to this plan?”

The agent looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Yes, because just from my own personal assessments and observations of you as an agent, I knew you wouldn’t go along with it otherwise. And she needed to be kept entirely in the dark. It was better that way.”

Bob’s head was spinning. “So really I was just used as a pawn?”

“You have to understand that this was a matter of national security. And sometimes you have to play dirty for the sake of the greater good.” He firmly believed that this had been the most effective course of action. 

“I…I’m gonna need a minute to sit with this,” Bob continued. 

“You don’t have a minute, Bob. I’m going to need you to fill out a report about what happened. You do not say one word about what I just shared with you. Just report what you saw, how you reacted, and nothing more or less.”

“So you want me to lie.”

“Some things are meant to be confidential. This is one of those things. Just report what you witnessed, agent. I’ll handle the rest.” He placed the folder, marked CONFIDENTIAL, onto Bob’s lap. Then he clicked a pen and set it on top.

Bob stared at it. Could he really do this? His superior expected him to. The president expected him to. But his mind wandered to you, and the senseless trauma you had endured because of it. In his heart, he knew that if Agent Mitchell was still in charge, this situation would have been handled differently. He would have done everything in his power to ensure you were not used as bait.

But Pete Mitchell’s days in The White House were over. Bob had no choice but to follow the new leadership put in place. So he went along with what was being asked of him, even though it went against everything he stood for, everything he believed.

He penned a lie on that report. Described what had happened, as if he had no idea about the plot to use you to lure your attackers straight to you. He dotted every i and crossed every t. And when he was done, he shoved the file back into Beau Simpson’s hands. 

“You got what you came for. Now get out.” Bob didn’t care that he was speaking disrespectfully to a superior. It didn’t matter anymore. 

Simpson left without a word. And Bob was alone again.

That interaction changed everything for Bob. It made him question his very morals. Could he really allow himself to be part of an administration that purposely put the very members it was supposed to be protecting in harm’s way? This left him with much to consider. He had a decision to make.

He finalized that decision the day you came to visit him.

Escorted by Bradley, Jake, and Natasha, who all respectfully waited outside the room once they brought you to it, you came through the door, so eager to see the man you loved. You shut the door behind you, allowing you both some privacy.

As you took in his form, tears sprang to your eyes. His left leg was in a full cast. There was a bandage around his head from the injury he’d sustained from being hit in the head with a gun. But what mattered was that he was alive, and he was going to be okay.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered as you approached him, unable to keep the tears from sliding down your cheeks. 

He mustered a smile. “Hey there, sweet girl.”

You leaned down, oh so carefully wrapping your arms around him in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry about. I’m okay.”

You pulled back, looking into his face before you lovingly stroked his cheek. He let his eyes flutter shut, relishing in your touch, so comforting and familiar. It distracted him from his pain and made him feel less alone. 

“They told me the bullet fractured your femur?” You finally found your voice a few moments later. As you spoke, you took a seat on the edge of the bed. Bob’s hand lifted to rest in your lap, and you placed your own hands over top of it. 

“Yeah. They put a pin in me. Got a bionic leg now,” he teased. But then, he grew serious. “When the bullet hit my bone, it broke into a bunch of little fragments. They took out most of them, but I’ve still got some floating around in there.”

You frowned, wiping at your tear dampened cheeks with the back of your hand. “How does that work? Will they ever be able to get them out?”

“The doc told me she couldn’t. Said it would cause more damage if she tried. So I’ll just have them inside me forever.”

Your heart broke for him. “I’m sorry they did this to you. All because you were trying to protect me.”

“Hey,” he interjected, hand moving to tip your chin up. “Don’t you ever think of blaming yourself. I’d do it again a million times over as long as it meant that you were safe. You’re what matters most to me in this world. I don’t want to live in one without you in it.”

“And I don’t want to live in one without you in it, either,” came your reply. 

His fingers wiped away your tears. There was so much he longed to say. He wanted so badly to tell you the truth. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. What good would it do? It would only bring more grief upon your shoulders. He didn’t want to cause you anymore pain than you’d already been through. 

But, with his next words, he ended up hurting you anyway. 

“I need to tell you something.”

His tone gave you pause. He was serious. “What is it?” You cautiously asked. 

“I…I’ve decided to step down from my job.”

You stared at him. “What?”

He sighed softly. “This injury’s going to have me out for months. And honestly, by the time it does heal, I just have this feeling that it won’t ever be the same again. I won’t be as effective at my job as I was before. So I’m making the decision to resign.”

But you were shaking your head, a fresh wave of tears filling your eyes. “Bobby, no. You can’t leave. I need you.”

“Sweetheart, my mind is made up.”

“Why? Because I know this isn’t just because of your leg. What happened? Did my dad threaten you?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

He sighed, shaking his head. How could he word it in a way that wouldn’t expose what he’d just sworn to keep secret? “I…I was asked to do something that goes against everything I believe. And I just can’t remain with this administration while knowing I was asked to do it.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What—”

“That’s all I can tell you. I’m sorry.”

“Then what? You’re just going to leave? What does that mean for us?”

“We’ll figure it out. I know we will.”

You paused for a moment, looking down at your intertwined hands. More tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t want you to leave,” you whimpered. “You’re the one I feel safest with. I-I know everyone else is just as capable of looking after me but I want you, Bobby.”

It broke his heart to do this to you. And it filled him with uncertainty, too. He wasn’t sure what this would mean for your relationship. But he knew he couldn’t keep going on in secret. And he couldn’t continue to serve an administration that could potentially put you in danger again in the name of national security. 

“I don’t want to leave, either. But I have to.”

You squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m being selfish. You should be allowed to make this decision without me causing a fuss about it. Do what you feel is best. I’ll support you no matter what.”

He lovingly stroked your cheek. “That means the world to me, honey. I’m sorry to break the news to you like this, after everything you went through. But I just wanted you to know before anyone else. I haven’t even told your dad or Agent Simpson yet.”

“Well, thank you for telling me. But I don’t know what I’m gonna do with myself, not seeing you everyday. God, I’m going to miss you so much, Bobby.” Your voice wavered. You were barely holding it together.

“Hey, c’mere.” He pulled you in, wrapping his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his chest, over his heart. “We’re gonna be okay, you and me. We’ll figure it out. Somehow, some way.” He kissed the top of your head. 

You hoped he was right.

After that initial visit to the hospital, you tried to visit him as often as possible. Your security team was more than happy to tag along each day, because they loved Bob, too. And you cherished those quiet moments in that hospital room, without the eyes of the world on you.

Outside of that hospital, you had to face the public. Had to deliver statements about what happened that night in the safe house. Had to assure the American people that you were just fine, that the brave United States Secret Service and Homeland Security agents did their jobs well. Because of them, an entire domestic terrorist organization had been quashed. In America’s eyes, it was a great victory.

But you couldn’t help but feel like a spectacle. The girl who’d survived a harrowing attack on her life. You were made to relive that night over and over and over again. And finally, in the end, you’d had enough. In the following weeks, you came to terms with a lot of personal things. 

Namely, you came to terms with wanting to separate yourself from your family’s administration. You would never be able to erase the fact that you were the president’s daughter. And your life would never be normal. You would need a security detail for the rest of your life. But you were done living within the confines of The White House. 

The only time you had ever been away from it was when you were at college. After graduation, you came back to work as part of your father’s administration. But for your own sanity, you knew you needed to step down and find your own path. 

So you told your parents as much. You informed them that your mind was made up, that you were going to buy a home for yourself and live your life separate from them. You no longer wanted a foot in the door of politics. It was time to pursue your true passions.

And that was just what you did. 

You bought a house deep in Wyoming, of all places. A nice plot of land, spacious enough for owning horses or cows, and for planting a nice sized garden. It was quiet and secluded and the perfect respite after spending the last six years in The White House.

In the time leading up to your move, Bob was in the throes of physical therapy. His leg was healing well, and he was working hard to regain his strength. During those months, the two of you decided that it would be best to distance yourselves from one another, only because you did not want to raise suspicions about your relationship. You attending each one of his physical therapy sessions came across as suspicious, in your mind.

So you allowed him to focus on getting better, while you focused on starting your new life. You missed him so deeply, but your separation was only temporary. You planned to meet again, as soon as he was ready to travel, and you were situated in your new home. You also wanted the media attention on your safe house to die down.

Eventually, it did, and the world moved on to something else to panic about.

But you? You tuned it all out. You stayed out of the news, you stayed out of politics, and you tried to bring some sense of calm normalcy to your life. You no longer needed a full security detail. It was with a heavy heart that you bid farewell to a few of them, leaving only Natasha, Mickey, and Bradley as your remaining security. They helped ensure that your home was always safe, and that you were protected.

But there was still one part of your life that remained incomplete. A void that could only be filled by your Bobby.

And finally, after several months, the day came that you would be reunited. He was strong enough to travel again. He had officially resigned from his job in The White House. He returned to civilian life, and packed up the minimal amount of belongings he had, placing them in the trunk and backseat of his car.

He drove over fifteen hours just to get to you. And it was worth it to him. After not seeing you for months, all he wanted was to hold you in his arms and never let go. So he drove. And he drove. And he drove. Until finally, he was standing at your front door, his hands trembling as Natasha let him in, and informed him that you were out back, in the stable.

So he ran. Ignoring the residual ache in his bad leg, he dashed behind the house, where the stable was, and he kept going into he was standing in the wide doorway. His feet skidded against concrete and hay, and his eyes searched. There you were. Dressed in jeans, riding boots, and a t-shirt. One he recognized as an old shirt of his, which you had snagged from him in the early days of your secret relationship.

You heard him approaching. Heard his feet skid to a halt at the doorway. And your heart quickened in your chest. You turned in what felt like slow motion, your gaze falling upon the man you loved, standing at the entrance of your stable, breathless.

“Bobby,” you whispered.

You weren’t sure who moved first. But in an instant, you were both running toward each other. You met halfway, arms coming out to catch the other, to embrace the other. “You’re here! You’re really here!” Came your cry.

“I’m here.” And then he was kissing you. Arms secure around your body, lips soft and familiar. He kissed you and kissed you and kissed you. And you kissed back. Not even your mingled tears caused you to part. You didn’t want to. It was as if you were afraid this would all be a dream if you pulled away.

When you did part, he was smiling. That sweet smile that made his eyes disappear behind his cheeks. That sweet smile that made your heart sing. “Oh, I missed you!” you sobbed. 

“I missed you too, honey. So, so much.”

You embraced again. He spun you around in a circle, and you giggled musically, overjoyed. He was finally here, with you, where he belonged. After months of waiting, months of agony, months of uncertainty, he was in your arms. No longer as the head of your security detail, but as the man you loved.

“I just can’t believe this is real,” came your soft confession.

“Believe it. This couldn’t be more real,” he assured you.

You held his face in your hands. “Oh, my sweet, beautiful man. I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.”

“Good, because I’m here to stay.”

You shared several more moments in that stable, holding each other, still in disbelief that it was finally over. The years of secrecy, the sneaking around behind the scenes. You didn’t have to hide anymore. You were allowed to love each other freely and openly.

Together, you walked back to your house that night, arms around each other, swaying as you walked, happy and content and relieved. You enjoyed a wonderful dinner, just the two of you, as the three remaining members of your security team had excused themselves to their own quarters to allow you privacy.

A lot had changed in the time that you’d been apart. You told Bob all you’d been doing, and he informed you what stepping down from his job, and enduring all that physical therapy, had been like. 

He was no longer part of the secret service, and he never would be again. The fear of being found out and losing his position was no longer on the table. There were no superiors to appease. No presidents to serve. He was free to be his own man. To live his life. To love who he wanted.

To love you.

Things were not automatically perfect now that he was with you. But they were better. You would have to figure out some things. And eventually, you would have to tell your family that you were in a relationship with him. But for now, you could live in peace, if only for a brief moment in time. You were safe, on your little farm in Wyoming, with the man you loved. It was your own little slice of heaven. 

And after all the difficulty you had endured, you were more than content with that. You could figure everything else out later. For now, you would live in that domestic bliss for just a little while longer. You’d earned it, after all. 

Finally, it was your turn to live your life the way you wanted to, and not the way others dictated you should.

-

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801 Follower Celebration

My suggestion box will be open for the next 24 hours for the smut prompt list below.

Responses/fills are likely to cap around 1k, so I can answer as many as possible.

Writing for: Top Gun (1986) and Top Gun: Maverick

Include your prompt and your man.

18+ / Minors DNI

100 Smut Dialogue Prompts

"You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up." + 53. "Is that a tattoo?" (Slider)

"You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat."

"How do you feel about adding another person to the mix?"

"You'd better be quiet if you don't want to get caught."

"You look good all soaking wet."

"Are you sure that's what you want? I could really hurt you."

"Oh my god you're so much better than the last person I was with."

"If you're going to act like a little brat then I'm going to treat you like a little brat."

"I don't care how good it feels you'd better not cum until I tell you to." (Rooster)

"Look, I'm not into choking but I wouldn't mind if you grabbed me by the neck every once in a while."

"I bet you think you're real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We'll see how cute you look later when I get you home." (Hangman)

"You don't have to be gentle with me, I don't break easily." 

"Touch yourself for me."

"Do you think you deserve to be punished?"

"You take my fingers so well don't you?"

"Shut up and take your pants off."

"When I get home I expect you to be undressed and waiting on all fours for me." (Cyclone)

"Are you wearing my shirt?"

"Do you need me to finger you first?"

"You'd better be quiet or everyone's going to know what a naughty little slut you are."

"Did I stutter? Do as you're told!"

"Look at you, I've only started using my fingers and you're already shaking."

"I can't wait to be on my knees for you later."

"Maybe if I punish you it'll help you remember who you belong to next time."

"Do you want it on your back or would you like to be on your stomach?"

"Suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me."

"Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn't tease me."

"If you keep making those sounds I'm not going to be able to stop myself."

"Take it off. Slowly."

"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?"

"Why don't you go put on something pretty for me?"

"Kitten, don't make me tell you twice."

"Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic."

"I love the sounds you make when you come undone."

"Maybe I should get you a collar so you don't forget who you belong to."

"You'd better watch your fucking mouth."

"Did I say you could stop?"

"I need you. Now!"

"I'm so sick of your voice. Why don't you come over here and put your mouth to better use?"

"I love the way you look with my fingers inside you."

"You keep acting like a little brat and I'll take you over my knee right here, I don't care how many people are watching."

"I guess I'll just get off all by myself."

"Don't you want to play with me?

"Yes! I mean yes, Sir!"

"When we get home I'm cuffing you to the bed and going down on you all night until my jaw is sore."

"Wanna see what I'm wearing underneath all this?"

"You deserve a reward for being so good today, what would you like it to be?"

"I can't wait to put bruises all over that pretty skin."

"You look so good on your knees like that."

"I only want to please you."

51. "Did you touch yourself while I was gone?" 52. "Are you going to be good from now on?" 53. "Is that a tattoos?" (Slider, above with #1) 54. "These walls are pretty thick, which means you and I can be as loud as we want." 55. "Well, since you wan to cum so badly, why don't we see how many times I can make you cum right now." (Hangman) 56. "Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you." 57. "I wonder what your girlfriend/boyfriend would do if they knew what you were doing right now." 58. "Do you know how beautiful you are? It's truly distracting." 59. "So desperate for it, aren't you? Well, if you want it so bad you'd better start taking it." 60. "Please? I'll be good, I promise!" 61. "If you don't change out of those shorts and into some pants I'll have them around your ankles by lunchtime." 62. "I bet all our neighbors can hear you, I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are." 63. "Open your mouth." 64. "I never knew someone could cum that fast just from a few fingers." 65. "Pull my hair!" 66. "If you leave the house wearing that then the second you get back home I'm going to bend you over that bed." (Wolfman) 67. "If you want to cum you'd better beg." 68. "You know I don't like to be teased." 69. "Come here, baby, let Mommy/Daddy take care of you." 70. "Say my name over and over again and, once you think you've said it loud enough, scream it. I want the whole neighborhood to know who's making you feel good." 71. "I'm gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, I want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me." 72. "Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that?" 73. "I wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it." 74. "Wow, I think you're blushing even redder than the vibrator inside you." 75. "You know, you look real pretty when you cry." 76. "I think I like you better with a gag in your mouth." 77. "Tell me what you like." 78. "Shh, don't worry, I'll take very good care of you." 79. "Look at you, grinding against everything ,you're really desperate for it. Aren't you?" 80. "How do you feel about two at once?" 81. "Is that a thong?" 82. "Yeah, that's it, baby, just like that." 83. "Aww, poor baby, you want me to take care of it for you?" 84. "I love it when you dress up for me." 85. "Did you dress up just for me?" 86. "Let me show you what happens to little brats who don't follow the rules." 87. "Think you can handle that much?" 88. "Mmm, good morning to you, too." 89. "Just pull the car over!" 90. "What's wrong? I thought you liked teasing." 91. "Aww, is my little princess/prince getting shy?" 92. "Come on, take it all on your own like a good little pet." 93. "It's okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I'm between your legs." 94. "Be a good girl/boy and do what I tell you." 95. "That tickles." 96. "Were you touching yourself without permission?" 97. "I think you forgot to lock the door, that means anyone could walk right in and see you like this." 98. "I see the gift I got you fits well." 99. "You know, there wasn't a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in. 100. "Call me selfish, but I don't ever want anyone else to touch you."