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miniwheat77 · 1 year

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Lust. (141 x Reader.)

The gang bang version to this is here

!CW! NSFW, Smut, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, porn without plot, read at your own risk. (Lemme know if I missed any.)

(Summary): After a hard mission, task force 141 has to find creative ways to relieve tension.

This was a requested story, you can find the ask here

The small room everyone was in was filled with the smell of rotting wood and dust. Everyone was covered in dirt and sweat, a little dried blood.

“Exfil can’t get to us until morning, settle in.”

Those were your Captain’s instruction, so everyone did. You took up one small corner of the room you were in. The house you were in was in the middle of the desert, the furthest thing away from any threats. Most of the house was leaky and some parts of the roof had caved in, leaving the entire task force to one room. There was an old couch, and everyone had set up around you, almost in a circle. All you had was a sleeping bag and an emergency blanket for comfort so you laid them both out. It was still too warm so you were sitting on top of it. You tried getting comfortable but it was a little hard. Everyone had a couple emergency MRE’s and first aid kits. You tended to your wounds, patched up, and ate one of the MRE’s.

“I don’t have sweats or extra clothes in my bag so you’ll all just have to be okay with me sleeping in my boxers.” Soap calls out.

“That’s fine, no one cares.” You call out. “Use a buddy system if you have to go outside to relieve yourself or for any other reason.” Your captain calls. He’s laying on his own sleeping bag a couple feet from you. Soap starts removing his clothes, tucking them near his bag and laying down. The room fills with an awkward silence and everyone shifts uncomfortably. It was clear no one would be getting much rest. A deep sigh brings everyone out of their own thoughts. “Maybe we should do something. Like.. play a game.” Soap says. “What, like one of those ridiculous games you played in grade school?” You laugh. “You got any better ideas?” Soap rolls his eyes. “Not really. I’m in.” You shrug.

“Truth or dare?”

“Can’t really do many dares, Soap.” You laugh. He smiles. “Alright alright, truth or truth?” You laugh, sitting up in your sleeping bag. Everyone follows suit. “I think I seen some old bottles of vodka in the kitchen. Maybe we can do a drinking game like never have I ever.” Gaz suggests. You nod your head, standing up. “Captain could probably pick out good liquor. He’d be able to tell which is good to drink and what’s bad.” You smile. “Damn right little lady.” John pushes past you, you follow him into the dingy kitchen and he opens up a couple cupboards, finding 2 unopened bottles of liquor. Gin and Vodka. “Alright. We’ll just pass around the bottle.” You nod your head. “Before we start I’m ditching my clothes too.” You complain. They were dirty and had blood all over them. “Yeah me too.” Gaz complains. Pretty soon everyone is just sitting in their undergarments. Most of you were pretty beat up. Bandages and cuts and bruises all over.

Each of you form a circle and John picks up a bottle.

“Alright so.. if you don’t already know, never have I ever works like this. Someone asks a question, and if you’ve done it, you drink, if you haven’t, you don’t.” You explain. Everyone nods.

“Alright, I’ll go first. A warm up question.” Gaz sits up. “Never have I ever… been stuck in a dingy house in the middle of a desert.”

Each of you pass around the bottles of liquor.

“Bloody hell that is shite.” Captain Price flinches. He lowers the bottle of gin from his lips and shivers. “Steamin Jesus that is horrible.” Soap laughs, passing the bottle of vodka to you. You take it, tipping it back. Flinching as you set it down. “Alright. Soap, your turn.” Soap laughs. “Alright uh..” he pauses, thinking to himself. “Never have I ever gotten into a fight.”

Everyone passes around the bottles again.

This goes on for a few more times and everyone is starting to feel buzzed, loosening up. “Okay, Y/N.”

“Never have I ever had a dirty dream about someone in this room.” You smile. “Ooooh. That’s a good one.” Gaz laughs. Your captain, Soap, and Ghost each take a drink.

The game goes on like this until most of the liquor is gone. Everyone settling into their own little worlds. Playing on their phones, reading. Or just relaxing. The same tension is still thick in the room, everyone can read it. “Alright. I hate this. Let’s try something else.” Your captain says, sitting up. “What do you mean?” Gaz laughs, taking a breath. “I was thinking we find another way to relieve some tension.”

“What, a gang bang?” Gaz jokes. “Hate to break it to you cap, but I don’t think poor Y/N could handle that.” Your mouth props open and your cheeks burn. “I like your taste Garrick, but that’s not what I meant. I mean.. similar. But.. less hands on.” Ghost pulls off his mask, this wasn’t the first time you’d each seen his face. “Are you suggesting we.. touch ourselves?” Soap asks. John nods his head. Everyone steals glances at each other. “If everyone is okay with it, I suppose.” Everyone makes a silent agreement and relax into their sleeping bags. You swallow hard, seeing each of them release their throbbing cocks from their refinement. You play with your fingers, hiding the fact that your cotton panties are soaked in arousal. “You alright lass?” Soap laughs. His hand is already pumping the shaft of his cock. “Uh.. y-yeah. I just..” you pause. “It’s okay to be nervous sweetheart.” Gaz breathes. By now, even Ghost has shed his boxers. You’re the only one still wearing any clothing.

“Let us guide you yeah? No need to be nervous.” Your captain smiles. He’s closest to you, so he moves himself near you. “May I?” He asks, fingertips moving toward your panties. You nod your head. He grasps them, sliding them down your legs. “You touch yourself before?” He asks. You nod your head skeptically. He smiles. “S’alright. Just pretend like the room is empty yeah? You don’t have to if you don’t want to though.” You nod your head. He moves back to his sleeping bag, starting to glide his own hand over his cock. “Start slow.” Simon is looking you in the eyes as he pumps his cock slowly. You nod your head, fingers skeptically gliding along your stomach. “Rub small circles over your clit. You can slide lower if it’ll help.” You’re surprised how vocal Simon is to you. But he can see how nervous you are. You start slow like he said, body relaxing as you spread your legs further. When you look up, you can see that each of their eyes are fixed on you, making you a little self conscious, crimson creeping up your cheeks. You need to relax, so you let their small groans egg you on. Your fingers dip inside of your soaking hole, a collection of moans filling the room as you do. Simon spits into his hand, the squelch of it drawing moans from your mouth.

“Fuck.. so pretty.” Soap gasps, eyes on you. You’re breathing hard, your free hand moving to rub at your clit. Simon tilts his head back against the wall he’s leaning up against, a groan leaving his lips. Soap is leaning up against the couch, thumb gliding over the tip of his cock to gather the precum from the tip. Gaz watches you intently, hips bucking with each jerk of his hand. Your captain has his eyes on you as well. Hand working up his cock steadily. He keeps the same pace, stomach clenching up. A mewl falls from your lips and your body starts to shake slightly, a chuckle falling from each of their lips. “So eager to cum.” Gaz laughs. “Yeah she is. S’quite the sight.” Simon let’s out a deep chuckle. “Relax Y/N. No need to rush.” You try to let their voices soothe you, slowing your movements. “Slow down, try curling your fingers.” Soap instructs.

“Ah- like this Johnny?” You whimper. The way his name rolls off of your lips has his dick jumping in his hand. “Yeah sweetheart. Just like that.” He growls. His eyes are burning into you, you’ve collected the stares of each of them as you bury your fingers into your wet cunt. “Regretting not taking Garricks gang bang idea.” John chuckles, drawing small laughs from everyone in the room except for you. You’re too focused on the way your fingers are moving into yourself. “Almost busted when she said my name like that.” Soap laughs. Hand still steadily stroking his cock. Simon laughs, adjusting his position. “Y/N, you feeling good sweetheart?” He tests the waters, trying to get you to say his name. “Y-yeah. Feels so good Simon.” You pant, He raises his eyebrows slightly, groaning out. Soap chuckling when he catches onto what he’s doing. “Fuck that’s hot.” Simon groans.

Your moans are getting louder, unsteady. Your fingers are working at your pussy faster than before. You were getting close, they could tell. “S’alright love. You can cum for us. Show us what a good girl you’ve been yeah?” John breathes. Your chest is rising and falling at a rapid rate and you’re working at your clit with your free hand, a mewl leaving your lips as you buck your hips into your hand. “Ah- I- I’m-“ you can’t finish your sentence, a cry leaving your lips as you reach your high, soaking your hand and your emergency blanket beneath you. Moans still spilling from your blushing lips. “Oh fuck-“ Gaz groans. He’s the first of the men to reach his own high, ropes of cum spilling from his cock and coating his front. He jerks himself off faster than he intends, bucking his hips as he pumps himself through his high. He relaxes, head tilting back as he pants, coming down from his high. Soap is next. Unsteady pants, each louder than the last as he finishes up his own front, he’s a lot more vocal than Gaz, groaning out as he finishes. “Fuck!” He gasps. Relaxing back into the couch. Your eyes draw from Soap to your Captain, hearing him moan out. He reaches his high, gritted teeth holding back the moans that desperately want to leave his lips. His cock throbs against his hand with each spurt of his cum that covers his thighs and stomach. “Fucking hell-“ he gasps.

Finally, eyes fixed on Simon as he pumps his cock. Your clit is still throbbing as you stare, watching the cum spill from the tip of his cock. His head is tilted back and you’re watching as his adams apple bobs as he swallows back the whimpers he’d usually let out. He hisses as his hips jump, finishing up his front.

Each of you relax into yourselves, the room feeling hot and thick with arousal. Nobody says anything as each of you clean up, settling into your makeshift beds for the night. The silence is a comfortable silence, and everyone seems much more relaxed than before, leaving your captain feeling better about the welfare of his team. Each of you fall asleep with no words exchanged, and every single one of you had a new secret to take to the grave.

Or maybe, another game of never have I ever.

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #soap smut #simon ghost riley #ghost smut

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mydear-corinthian · 20 days

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A Peaky Blinder || Shelby Family x reader

Synopsis: You encountering an assaulter while drinking on the Garrison pub. Pairing: Shelby Family x sister! reader (except for Finn & Ada) Warnings: sexual assault, gun violence, mentions of blood, and swearing Notes: Not proofread, there are some grammatical errors Click here to find the main masterlist. Click here to find the PEAKY BLINDERS masterlist.

This week feels like hell.

Loads of men barging in the shop, betting and betting like there was no tomorrow. As the accountant of the family and the business, it felt like hell.

A drink would help you stress down after a week of non-stop working. The trip to the family's tavern, the Garrison, was simple-- taking a short route there instead of the long way.

You opened the doors of the Garrison, immediately sitting down on the counter. You sat down, taking a deep sigh.

"Hello, (y/n). What drink do you want?" Harry, the bartender, asked you as soon as he saw you sitting down.

"It's alright, Harry. I'll get it," you replied, grabbing the big glass of bottle filled with your family's most famous drink, Gin, behind the counter's cupboard in front of you.

You opened the lid, tossing it at the side of the table, chugging the drink down.

"Rough week, innit?" Harry asked, wiping the unused glasses.

"Very rough week, Harry," you replied, taking a deep sigh.

"Why would people risk betting their money for a what? A race? It's funny but hey, who am I to judge? At least they're helping us work the business out."

The talk with you and Harry kept on going until both of your heads turned, looking at the doors after hearing them open harshly.

Three men entered the tavern. Dirty suits, hats on, and cigarettes designing their lips.

They walked up to the counter just beside you as they started to state their order.

"3 glasses of whiskey for us," you heard one of them order.

You just went on with your drink, Harry muttering an 'excuse me' to you before he was out of your sight, giving the 3 gentlemen their order.

"Slow down, love," you heard one of them.

You turned your head to them and tilted. "Sorry?"

"I said slow down drinking. You're too pretty to drink this whole bottle of yours to yourself.. and too pretty to be a whore either," he commented, looking up and down at you, licking his lips slowly.

He just called you a whore.

"What did you just call me, sir?" you asked in disbelief. You got up slowly, crossing your arms together, looking up at him.

"Ah, I get it. You're a feisty one, eh? A feisty whore.. I like it." he chuckled, his finger tracing your cheeks and then your curves.

"Fuck off, prick,"

Encounters like this in the Garrison were unfortunately normal. Weird, uncomfortable men doing this to women every day.

It was indeed normal but you can't help but be disappointed and sad for the women. Getting treated like this by men.

"Don't you fucking touch me," you shouted, slapping his hand off you.

You felt a hand gripping your jaw, your body pressed up on the counter. "How about I fuck you on this counter? Let these men watch us?" he whispered in your ear, his hand grabbing your hips harshly.

Mentally, you want to grab your gun and shoot him, on his groin, specifically.

and why not do it?

You turned your body, now facing him. A smile formed on your face. Your hands roam around his face and down there. Your hand cupped his manhood earning him a soft moan.

"Sir, I want to do something here.." you innocently said, your eyes meeting his and licking your lips slowly.

"Go on, love. Do it," he replied, and his two other friends laughed.

Your other hand was free, you used this opportunity to grab the small gun on your small bag and immediately fired his groin.

You let go of your hands on his right away. Blood is painted on your palm. You laughed, laughed at the sight in front of you.

The feeling of victory sprawled all over you. Finally putting men like him into their proper places and what they deserve.

He screamed in pain, cussing you out with all the swear words he knows.

Your brothers, except Finn and your older sister, Ada, rushed out of their small compartment just near the counter, guns in their hands.

You heard your older brother shout, "What the fuck is going on here!?"

Polly was with them, she looked at you and the man, she immediately knew what happened and she couldn't help but paint her face with a smirk.

"This whore shot my dick!" the man replied angrily, pressing his manhood, giving it pressure to avoid more blood coming out of it while his free hand was on your dress, gripping it near your neck.

Your brother's facial expression changed into disbelief when they heard the man calling you, their sister, a whore. Tommy inspected the man by looking at him up and down, mentally planning on how to take him down.

John scoffed in disbelief too, he grabbed his gun from his breast pocket immediately and pointed it directly at the man who assaulted you. He, then, harshly asked him, "Are you calling my sister a whore?"

Hearing John's question made your assaulter's eye widen in fear and appalled. He knew he fucked up. He knew he was going to get harshly beaten up-- or worse, die.

"Sister? I-I didn't know she was your sister, Mr. S-Shelby." he stammered. His head shaking violently, begging for forgiveness for what he did to you.

Rolling your eyes, you slapped his face. "Great. Now you respect me because I'm a Shelby and not because I'm a woman, and put the gun down, John. I'll handle this, it's my issue."

"We're here for backup, (y/n), alright?" Arthur commented.

You sighed, your gun still in your hand.

"Look, mister. What you did pissed me off and did not help me calm down after an exhausting fucking week but since I want to show mercy, you are lucky. You are free to go."

The 2 men ran away straightly to the tavern's doors, exiting the bar in no time. Your injured assaulter bowed his head many times and muttered a 'thank you' while limply running to the exit.

"Get out of my bar now, my mercy expires in 10 seconds," you said, massaging your temples out of stressfulness.

The man was still inside the Garrison after 10 seconds but he was already close to the exit, still limping.

You shot the floor, just near his legs. He ran faster until he was finally outside of the bar.

You laughed again at the sight. You turned the safety lock of your gun again before bringing it back inside of your black purse.

You heard slow claps coming from your brothers and your aunt. They walked toward you while clapping.

"Handled it like a true Peaky Blinder. I'm proud of 'ya, sis." your oldest brother congratulated you. Put his arm over the back of your shoulders and gave you a side hug.

Polly cupped both of your cheeks, caressing it with her finger slowly. "I'm proud of you, (y/n). Your mother would be so proud of you." She smiled lovingly. She cannot contain her happiness after what you did.

"Wait- you said you had a stressful week? Is it because of the overtime at the betting shop?" John interrupted, recalling what you said earlier and made him ask you about it.

You nodded in response, "Yeah. There were a lot of customers and being an accountant isn't easy, y'know?"

Tommy inhaled his half-full cigarette while listening to the conversation. He doesn't want to see his sister being stressed because of work so he planned on giving you a paid leave. "If it's like that then you can leave for a while and be back once you're good. Michael can be our accountant until you come back."

You shook your head, rejecting his offer. "It's alright, Tommy. I can handle it but is it okay if I'll just work on half-days instead of full days?"

"If that's want you want then it's fine with me," Tommy answered.

THE END

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby x reader #arthur shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #polly gray

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blackbirdi · 2 months

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Harry Potter Incorrect Quotes #2

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry: So how’d you guys manage to crash the car last night?

Hermione: Ron wasn’t paying attention to the road, and there was a deer. So I shouted, “RON, DEER!”

Ron:

Hermione: Go on. Tell him what you said.

Ron: … “Yes, honey?”

*Cue Harry dying*

———————————

George: *Whispering so they don’t get caught out of bed by Filch* What time is it?

Fred: *Screams loudly*

Snape: WHO THE FUCK IS SCREAMING AT TWO IN THE MORNING!?

Fred: There you go.

———————————

Hermione: *Showing Mr. Weasley how to use muggle technology* There you go. Your laptop is all set up.

Mr. Weasley: Will it get heavier if I put more files in it?

Hermione: What?

Mr. Weasley: Like, if I download files will it weigh more?

Hermione:

———————————

*The girls decorating the Christmas tree*

Hermione: Does anyone know where the angel is?

Ginny: *Pointing at Luna* Found it!

———————————

Mrs. Weasley: When I said bring me something back from Hogwarts I meant something you bought at Hogsmeade.

The Twins: *Struggling to contain a Bludger* Well you didn’t specify that!

———————————

Neville Longbottom: So how’d you know Harry was the one?

Ginny: *Dreamily* He looked at me the way every woman wants to be looked at…

Neville: Awww.

Ginny: With fear in his eyes.

Neville:

Hermione: Awwwww.

———————————

Ron: Did it hurt when you fell from the vending machine? Cause you’re a whole snack.

Hermione: Are you silence? Because you make me speechless.

Ginny: Who do you think is going to make this dirty first?

Harry: Turn this dirty? Neither of them, Gin, they’re too cute for one another.

Ron: Are you my pinky toe? Cause I’m gonna bang you against every piece of furniture I own.

Hermione:

Harry:

Ginny:

Harry: I take back my previous statement.

———————————

*After watching Frosty the Snowman*

Ron: What did Frosty the Snowman do other than come to life, do a little dance, and die?

Harry: Isn’t that what we all do, really?

———————————

Ron: You played me like a fiddle!

Fred: Oh no, Ronniekins. Fiddles are actually very difficult to play.

George: We played you like the cheap kazoo you are.

———————————

Ron: *Walking into the living room to complain* Mum! There’s no more snacks in the kitchen!

Ginny: *From the kitchen* But I’m literally right here!

Ron: *Frustrated groan*

———————————

The Twins: We can assure you, our place of business is extremely safe.

Ron: *Looking up at the ceiling* The smoke detector is a white bowl with a red M&M taped to it…

#harry potter #harry potter incorrect quotes #golden trio era #golden trio #hermione granger #ron weasley #ginny weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #the weasly twins #the weasleys #neville longbottom #romione #hinny #luna lovegood #severus snape

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osaevsky · 3 months

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⠀ like you're god ! ⠀⠀⚝ drabbles on how some characters from bungo stray dogs would fuck you or let you fuck them. included: dazai osamu, edogawa ranpo, chuuya nakahara, ryunosuke akutagawa, gin akutawaga, edgar allan poe, nikolai gogol.⠀; ♡

🥮⠀⠀·⠀⠀⚝⠀⠀⠀; word count: 2.6k + warnings: not proof read. porn without plot, afab reader, slight praise & degradation, dacryphilia, size kink, dubcon in nikolai's, very mild dirty talk, thigh riding in dazai's, use pet names, public sex + fingering, oral (f. receiving), overstimulation, begging, coming inside, smoking, oral (m. recieving) + throat fucking, cockwarming.

🥮⠀⠀·⠀⠀⚝⠀⠀⠀; author's note: literally did this just to get some stuff i wrote a long time ago out and write pure filth for my favorite characters. if i forgot any warning pls let me know !!

as lazy as he can be, ranpo makes sure every need is met and that you both cum. the days he’s the one taking the lead, his movements are slow, dragging every inch out and pushing it back inside with a proud look on his face, as it makes him feel accomplished to see you fucked stupid and stuffed with his cock.

but now he is indifferent, not even bothering to wait to get to the bedroom, or caring to remove all clothing off before you get to fuck. there’s something about seeing you so eager to make the first move, he would not be the one to let you down on it. why if he can get to lay back and just enjoy it?

one of his hands wraps around your throat, careful to not push his fingers too much into your flesh as to not choke you. there is a half smile playing on his lips, his back against the surface of the couch as his other arm rests right behind his head to have some support. ranpo was being nice, letting you have your way with him like this, looking so pretty and full.

green eyes, now wide open as he tilts his head, looking at you while you fuck yourself on his cock, his hand trailing down from your throat towards one of your breasts to carefully pinch one of your nipples over the fabric of your shirt, as they pebble up below. that alone elicits a moan from you, your eyes trying to close as your walls clamp down around his length.

‘’you'll cum again? is that easy to make you fall apart with just my dick? you’re such a slut.’’ ranpo asks, his eyes widening a bit as you nod, so impatient that he has to avoid a low chuckle from coming out. his arm finally moves from under his head to get it placed on one of your thighs, keeping up with your movements. ‘’look at me, yeah? don’t close your eyes, i want to see how well you’re taking it. just for me, ‘kay?’’’

by that time, he can tell from how slowly you’re moving now that it’s making your body ache. his hips move up just as lazily as yours, trying to search for your body, a harsh slap of skin against skin making your walls flutter around his cock as you cum. ‘’there you go… that’s it, sweetheart.’’

ranpo spills inside you with a final thrust of his own, his arms wrapping themselves around you to bring you down towards his chest as you both pant, trying to catch your breath while his lips place a kiss atop of your head. ‘’hm… want me to fuck you now, hm? Gonna make it it up for you after working so hard, yes?’’

definitely experienced but he is laid back. he enjoys the show sometimes, instead of doing the work for you. It’s not out of laziness like ranpo, dazai just finds it more entertaining to see you get off on his thigh without any help. Your little complaints get him hard, what can he do about it?

his hand rests on the small of your back, your clothed cunt dragging along the expanse of his thigh while he pays no attention to your pout, his eyes now following your movements as he can already tell -and feel- how damp the fabric has got.

as you stop your movements to catch a breath, a small tremble on your thighs while you’re straddling his own, he makes the hand at your back push against your body, urging you forward to keep you moving, wanting you to keep going till you actually cum.

dazai’s gaze moves from between your legs to your face, chuckling at the sight of your pout, and his eyebrows arch as you sigh. You are sure looking like a dumb brat to him, as he only seems to find your grim amusing. ‘’can’t expect me to do all the work now, can you? Is that what you want?’’

the peck he leaves on your lips is enough to shush you before you can complain again. even if you want to say how hard it actually is, he already knows.

dazai’s hand moves towards your hips, his index finger playing with the band of your underwear, making the elastic snap against your skin after he lets it go and you hiss at the pain. ‘’keep them on, you’re not getting off without them.’’

thought he didn’t have a preference for giving or receiving till he found out how beautiful you looked between his thighs while he took a break to smoke one of his cigarettes. chuuya is surprised, to say the least, as he shuffles with a packet between his hands before he finds one, picking it up and looking around for his lighter, before the touch from your hands on his thighs takes his attention back to you.

one thing he can’t avoid is having at least one hand tangled between your locks, or petting your head lovingly as you bob your head up and down. Even if one is occupied -as it is now, picking up the cigarette from between his lips to blow off some smoke- he has to find a way to touch you, to feel you besides the warmth from your mouth, the spit getting almost everywhere now as it looks like you can fit it all from one go.

‘’relax a bit more, baby, ‘s not that hard. you’re the one who started this, don’t be mean now. Relax your throat- like that, yeah. that’s good, dollface.’’

all of that talk as he pushes your head a bit more each time. That's how he does it till your nose brushes against his abdomen and you’re gagging. He thinks you’re a pretty thing, he feels pity for ruining you, but getting your mouth full and hearing your whines muffled around his cock- he can’t get enough of it.

follows a more simple way of showing he loves you after having any sexual encounter by staying inside, even after finishing. or even if you’re both just keeping it to cuddling: the moment akutagawa feels your hips brushing against his body, pushing back, or he gets to hold you close, being able to wrap his arms around your waist, and nuzzle his nose into your neck, he gets hard. He is sorry, but it’s just prone to happening -too many times.-

akutagawa slides one of his hands down your shirt, his fingers tracing every knob on your spine before it settles on your hip, already grasping your underwear and pushing it down, lower and lower. Once it reaches your ankles, you’re the one to finish the job, kicking it with a swift movement.

his lips find your shoulder, leaving some short kisses as he goes right below your ear, whispering a -fuck, thank you- or -can’t get enough of you when you’re like this- when his arm wraps around your waist to pull you back against his chest like before.

akutagawa’s cock is already settled at your entrance, pushing the head slowly inside, feeding into your little hisses and whines when he finally bottoms out. ‘’Does it hurt?’’ He mutters, the tinge of insecurity is clear as he uses one of his hands to grip your chin, turning your head to make you look at him.

he soothes any pain that might be left with a soft kiss to your lips, his hand cupping your cheek and caressing the skin with his thumb tenderly. The insecurity from before is no longer there as his eyes catch a glimpse of a smile tugging at your lips, reassuring him that you feel good, that he’s making you feel good, and that’s the only thing that he needs.

so scared of ever getting caught but she can be greedy, wanting to get fucked by you in any place that you want it to happen. it’s the mere thought of someone walking in while you’re between her legs, knuckles deep inside her cunt, that makes gin's face hit up. but it’s undeniable how her body feels about it, as she feels her own arousal threatening to stain the skin on her inner thighs.

‘’please, just let me cum, just-’’ Your lips wrap around her clit, the bundle of nerves already sensitive and swollen from making her come undone on your tongue for a few times now. her hands are knuckle-white, gripping the wall behind her with so much strength it makes you hum against her, the vibrations going straight into her.

you look up at her through your eyelashes, sucking on the bud slowly, too slowly that it turns out painful. A cry comes out of Gin’s lips, which you’re quick to soothe with a few kisses plastered over her thighs and inner thighs, making her bite her lower lip to let some broken sobs die down her throat.

‘’you think you can cum again? you’re too sensitive.’’ your tone is full of mockery, seeing the desperation in her face and hands, as she moves one of them from the wall to the nape of your neck, trying to pull you back to her cunt.

you lick a broad strip over her folds, finishing right under her clit. It feels like torture for her as you ignore what Gin needs most right now, noticing how you’re dragging it out for her and not letting her finish.

‘’should I leave you here and let people see how I used you? Let someone see your swollen cunt and hearing your stupid sobs, precious?’’ Gin shakes her head, her chest heaving as her breathing remains irregular. There’s the softest look of a quiet plea behind her blown out pupils, as her lip trembles trying to stifle a new cry.

‘’give me one more.’’ two of your fingers are pushing past her folds, stuffing her up with them and curling them upwards, touching that rough patch over and over again till Gin can’t keep up anymore, your free arm having to hold her by the waist as best as you can while she gushes around your fingers, muttering a few ‘’stop, i can’t.’’ Behind the wall of tears that are formed on her eyes, she can see the shadow of a prideful smile on your lips at that whole sight.

the most desperate one. his desperation is out of a lack of experience. he is not a virgin by anymeans but he hasn’t fucked as many people as other men, and it plays out… differently, on his side. poe is too eager to learn how to please you specifically, after he kisses and marks you all nicely, he doesn’t wait much to get inside. the feeling of your walls wrapping around his cock makes him dizzy and already begging for more.

the way he ruts his hips into yours so fervently, a thin layer of sweat keeps his hair stuck to his forehead is all too surprising. To finally see Poe lose himself just at the fact that he was trying to fuck you sensless is surpsing.

you catch a few words slipping past his lips as he dips his head down, a sound so unintelligible that if he hadn’t whispered close to your ear, it wouldn’t have made any sense. ‘’Please, please, that’s so.... gods, you’re so tight.’’ Your legs move to his waist, his hips no longer keeping up as you can feel his cock throbbing inside of you.

‘’let me come in you, please. I want to fill you up, I need to-’’ He quiets down for a split second, his arms trembling besides your head as the only support he has to keep himself up and not crush you down with his weight. ‘’Please, please… Let me fill you up, i’m too close-’’

there’s only a nod coming from you, your legs tightening around his body to ensure he knows you’re giving him the go. He fills you up to the brim as his orgasm makes him shake even more than before, some of his load being so much that it starts to slip out around his cock and goes down to your body. He is already feeling embarrassed, a wave of guilt washing over him as what he said comes back to mind. ‘’Oh fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t- no, fuck, didn’t wanna say that-’’

a chuckle of yours makes his guilt slightly wash off, noticing how you’re not trying to blame him or making him pull away, even after spilling inside you or slowly starting to feel his length soften inside of your body. ‘’It’s okay, really… begging does look good on you after all.’’

would swear he does it just to tease you, getting to be unfair with you for a little while, hold back your orgasms and hear your begging… but in reality, nikolai justs enjoys seeing you teary-eyed, looking up at him from below as he pounds into you, stretching you out while you babble nonsense and your hands push at his abdomen, trying to get him to go softer on you.

‘’what’s that?’’ He mutters, his hips sharply pushing against yours with all of his might, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix in a way that makes your eyes get glossy, while your lips part to let out a whine. ‘’Thought so. There’s no need to complain.’’

‘’Kolya, Kolya, too much-’’ He tuts upon hearing that. The sight of your cunt swallowing his cock is too amusing to not keep going, and hearing your little whines only fuels him to click his tongue in disapproval.

His lips crash onto yours, so suddenly that the air in your lungs transforms into a moan, going straight into his mouth. His fingers get a grip on your hair, as it doesn’t last much, when he uses the same fingers to tug your head back and look at you, a glint of disappointment in his good eye.

‘’you know you can take it, have some trust in yourself.’’ Another sharp thrust, the head of his cock bullying your cervix once more, while some tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes. He kisses your cheek so tenderly that it’s vile, even for him. ‘’You’ll let me fill you up, pretty? You always look so good with your little cunt filled with my cum.’’

Nikolai’s words are even more filthy than what he is doing to you, his own hands now taking care to push your thighs up to your chest, keeping you pressed with the weight of his body as his cock continues to ram inside of you.

A faint crimson color appears on your cheeks, a stupid hiccup leaving your throat after all your sobs had come out already. ‘’Nikolai-’’ You call out his name, wanting to warn him that you’re close, too close, actually. but he knows, just from the way your walls are tightening, that it’s difficult even for him to push back. It doesn’t take long before you let go, your body trembling while he doesn’t stop his thrusts as you ride your high.

‘’we’re not done here, I still need to fill you up.’’

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd drabbles #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x fem! reader #bsd x female reader #bsd x fem! reader #bungou stray dogs smut #gin akutagawa #akutagawa bsd #nikolai bsd #chuuya bsd #ranpo bsd #dazai bsd #edgar allan poe bsd #bsd edgar allan poe

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euno11a · 3 months

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Tattooed Hearts II

Genre: No one to someone Tattoo artist! Jungkook X Reader

Summary: What happened to us? Why did we end up like this? It was only a one time thing. Now it’s ruined us both.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, mentions of hookups, insults, arguing, blood, mentions of period, insecurities

Pt I • Pt III • Pt IV • Pt V• Pt VI • Pt VII • Pt VIII

***

What a jackass! Months of not seeing you, and all he had to say was ‘glad you’re back?!’ Seriously? Watching him walk away so nonchalant made your blood boil, he was a player. What did you expect? He wasn’t gonna drop to his knees and start sobbing! It was dumb if you to even have hopes of him doing that. You glared at the closed office door, hoping he would trip over a stone and scrape his knees. Yes, it was childish, but scraping your knees hurts! You opened your juice, sipping it while cursing Jungkook out in your mind.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard the buzzing of the tattoo gun again, “Is the juice good?” V asked with a small smile.

You nodded happily, drinking even more. The question stood in your mind, how did they know it was your favourite drink? You hadn’t told any of them apart from Jungkook…oh my god. OH MY GOD! Was he still thinking about you?! No, there’s no way, all he thinks about is getting his dick wet, he was not thinking about you. It was probably just a mix up with a flavour. V continued with the tattoo, mentioning that you’d have to come back for a second round to do the colouring and final touches. You agreed, wanting to finally have the tattoo finished. Time went by and a woman walked into the parlour, she was wearing a black latex looking skirt with a matching top, fishnets and some funky looking heels. She was his next client? Good god. Listen, you weren’t one for being insecure. You loved your body! It was amazing! But looking at the woman that just walked in, you couldn’t help but compare yourself just a little bit. She had the ‘perfect body,’ almost no body hair, an hour glass shape, perfect face (probably because of Botox), she was the ideal woman. So watching Jungkook step out of his office and lean on the doorway, smirking at her, made me know that it wasn’t just a touch up that was about to happen. I groaned and looked at V, “Am I almost done…?” “Yep! Just gonna wipe it down with an alcohol wipe and tape you up, then you’re free to go.” He smiled politely at you, which you returned. You luckily finished just before the moans echoed through the parlour, the woman from before, moaning and screaming for Jungkook. You made a small face of disgust, walking to the front desk to pay. RM gave you a sympathetic look, setting up the machine so you could pay. The worst part, was that you could hear his grunts. The grunts he used to make when he fucked you, when he touched you, when he ate you out, even when you bent over to pick something up. Now you’re realizing that you weren’t that special to him. You were a quick fuck and drop. After paying, you walked out of the parlour, a sense of rage present in your gut. Who the hell did he think he was? Honestly, he will never find someone to love forever. He'll always be a player. *** “Is that even sanitary?” Lindsay asked as you guys walked to the bar. You’d came home and told her about your adventures at the tattoo parlour. You weren’t sure if she was treating you to drinks because she felt bad for you, or if it was because she needed to wipe away the vivid picture you painted for her of Jungkoon fucking a woman in his office. You shrugged, stopping in front of the bar, pulling the door open. “I don’t think he’d care even if it wasn’t. Such an asshole…” You mumbled, getting seats at the bar top. You ordered your drinks, a gin and tonic and a dirty Shirley, waiting for the bartender to make them, Lindsay nudged you.

“Look at Mr Hottie over there! God, I’d let him bend me over the bar and fuck me.” She said proudly, biting her bottom lip.

You almost choked on your spit, “I’m sorry, wHaT? Lindsay, you can’t just go around saying that!”

She leaned back and smiled at you, “Come on! I haven’t been fucked in a good while, my vibrators not cutting it anymore! I need a real dick.” Turning her head, she smiled at the guy, winking.

“I thought you were here to drink with me, not get fucked by some random guy.” The drinks came and you instantly drank some, you had a feeling this was gonna be a long night. Grabbing her drink, Lindsay smiled at you once again, walking in the direction of the guy. You groaned and leaned your head on your hand, mixing your drink. Maybe it was from the day, but the gin didn’t feel strong enough. After about 30 minutes, you turned to look at your friend, but not to your surprise, she was gone and so was the guy. “Hope you have a nice fuck.” You mumble to yourself. “Thank you, I will.” The voice caught you off guard, making you jump and turn your head. Jesus Howard Christ. Jungkook smirked down at you, leaning on the bar top. “It was nice seeing you again today. Still looking good.” You didn’t reply, don’t speak to the devil, he’ll hurt you. You sipped your drink in silence, trying not to pay attention to the muscular man beside you. “Come on, you could at least say hi.” “You can at least tell me when you decide to cheat.” You shot back, angrily. Damn it, where’s Lindsay when you need her? “Woah, woah, woah, I never cheated.” Jungkook replied, grabbing his scotch on the rocks. “We were never together, so technically I didn’t actually cheat on you.” Was he serious right now? “Oh, sorry, my bad. I was a fuck toy.” Your jaw clenched, hand gripping the glass of gin and tonic tightly. You could see him smirk from the corner of your eye, “You were a good fuck toy. Always let me use your pretty pussy…fuck you so good. Bet you haven’t had good dick since.” “I’ve had plenty of dick, many that've topped yours.” You snarked back, god, where was your buffer? What happened to ignoring him? And what was with all the lies? “Sure you have. Speaking of, where’s that friend of yours? Did she dump you for dick?” He was trying to get a ride out of you….it was working. “No, she escaped before you came. God blessed her today, but I unfortunately haven’t had his graces placed upon me yet.” You could hear him chuckle lowly, his laugh was deep and husky…fuck, it was hot. “Come on, Y/N, we both know you don’t worship god. You like to worship me when you’re on your hands and knees, waiting to be fucked like a good girl.” He whispered in your ear, using that soft but husky voice you liked. Why’d he have to say your name? Why couldn’t he have kept his stupid mouth shut? “That’s in the past. I’m never going to stoop to a level so low ever again.” Grabbing your bag, you placed a $20 bill on the bar top, paying for you and your friend’s drink. You pushed by Jungkook and made your way to the exit. The air outside was refreshing, something you craved after being stuck in there with Jungkook and his sweet smelling cologne. When you were walking away, your name was called, but you knew it was him. You weren’t gonna answer this time. Not now, not ever again.

Taglist: @talyaaas-blog

#bts #bts army #bangtan #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n

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seireiteihellbutterfly · 11 days

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Sundae Tropes - Masterlist 🍨

You guys amazed me! Like look at this beautiful masterlist! You guys did that! Thank you for sending in all your delicious requests and making this event such a success.

All the requests were run through a random number generator and will be written in the order below.

I will be tagging the person that requested the sundae on the one-shot when it is posted, unless you have requested it privately, in which case I'll DM you.

Please remember to like and reblog the works being written here. Engagement and interaction is what keeps the writers community going!

Now onto the lineup:

Cookies And Cream With Sprinkles And Brownie Bits With Kensei And Shuhei = Marriage Pact + Threesome + 69

Coffee Waffle Cone #3 With Megumi = Friends To Lovers + “Don’t You Dare Walk Away Right Now!”

Birthday Cake With Strawberries And Chocolate Chips With Toji = Amnesia/Mistaken Identity + Passionate/Romantic Sex, Emotional Bond + Lotus Position

Peanut Butter With M&Ms And Chocolate-Covered Pretzels With Ichigo = Secret Billionaire+Virginity Loss, Soft Sex, Sweet Talking+Missionary

Coffee With Whipped Cream And Banana With Kenpachi = Friends To Lovers + Creampie/Breeding Kink + Missionary + Doggystyle

Cherry Flavor With Strawberry Toppings And Banana With Suguru Geto = Hometown/Reunion Love + Passionate/Romantic Sex, Emotional Bond + Doggystyle

Cookies & Cream Ice Cream, With Maraschino Cherries And Chocolate-Covered Pretzels Izuru Kira = Marriage Pact + Praise Kink, Lingerie, Blowjob +Missionary

Strawberry With Whipped Cream And Banana With Aizen = Enemies To Lovers+Creampie, Breeding Kink+Doggystyle

Vanilla Whipped Cream And Banana With Kensei = High School Sweethearts + Creampie, Breeding Kink + Doggystyle

Strawberry With Whipped Cream And Chocolate Covered Pretzels For Aizen? = Enemies To Lovers + Creampie, Breeding Kink+ Missionary

Birthday Cake With Strawberries And Chocolate With Gojo = Amnesia/Mistaken Identity + Passionate/Romantic Sex, Emotional Bond + Lotus Position

Vanilla + Strawberries And Chocolate Covered Pretzel With Dear Kento-Kun = High School Sweethearts + Passionate/Romantic Sex, Emotional Bond + Missionary

Can I Get A Mint Chocolate Chip Waffle Cone #5 With Ukitake = Soulmates + "I Trust You With All Of My Heart."

Cherry With M&Ms And Chocolate Chips With Nanami = Return To Hometown/Reunion Love + Virginity Loss, Soft Sex, Sweet Talking + Lotus Position

Butterscotch With M&M's For Kenpachi = Forced Proximity + Virginity Loss, Soft Sex, Sweet Talking

Fudge With Whipped Cream And Caramel With Nanami = Captor/Captive + Creampie, Breeding Kink + Thirst Position

Butter Pecan With Whipped Cream And Nutella! (Gojo + Geto) = Love Triangle + Creampie, Breeding Kink + Butterfly Position

Hurt/Comfort-Themed Cherry Waffle Cone Number Two With Hirako Shinji = Return To Hometown/Reunion Love + “Don’t You Dare Walk Away Right Now!”

Fudge Kitkat Banana Ice Cream With Gin = Captor/Captive + Exhibitionism, Dirty Talk, Hair Pulling + Doggystyle

Peanut Butter Waffle Cone #7 For Kiyotaka Ijicjhi = Secret Billionaire + “Do You Want My Jacket?”

Mint Chocolate Chip With Strawberry And Chocolate Chips With Higuruma = Soul Mates + Passionate/Romantic Sex, Emotional Bond + Lotus Position

Cherry Waffle Cone #12 With Mr. Nanami Kento = Return To Hometown/Reunion Love+“Of Course I Know The Way You Like Your Coffee.”

Peanut Butter With Whipped Cream And Chocolate Covered Pretzels With Nanami = Secret Billionaire + Creampie, Breeding Kink + Missionary

Butter Pecan With Maraschino Cherries And Brownie Bits With Kusakabe And Utahime = Love Triangle + Praise Kink, Lingerie, Blowjob + 69

Strawberry Kitkat With Grimmjow = Enemies To Lovers + Exhibitionism, Dirty Talk, Hair Pulling

Coffee Flavor On Waffle Cone #16 With Higuruma = Friends To Lovers + "I Never Believed In Love At First Sight Before I Met You

Coffee With Crushed Oreos And Gummy Bears With Gojo = Friends To Lovers+Clit Spanking, Nipple Play, Bondage+Facesitting

Cookie Dough + Marshmallows And Reese's Pieces + Kusakabe = Strangers In A Foreign City + Teasing, Edging, Toys + Cowgirl

Rocky Road With Strawberries And Chocolate Covered Pretzels With Toshiro = Teacher/Student + Passionate/Romantic Sex, Emotional Bond + Missionary

Cotton Candy / Whipped Cream / Nutella With A Side Of Nanami = Secret Admirer+Creampie, Breeding Kink+Butterfly Position

Cotton Candy+ Strawberries With Nanami = Secret Admirer+ Passionate/Romantic Sex, Emotional Bond

Mint Chocolate Chip Waffle Cone #5 With Higuruma = Soul Mates + "I Trust You With All Of My Heart."

Rocky Road, M&M's, And Chocolate Chips With Byakuya = Teacher/Student+Virginity Loss, Soft Sex, Sweet Talking+Lotus Position

Chocolate Flavor With Maraschino Cherries With Sum Chocolate Chips On The Side For Higuruma = Boss/Secretary + Praise Kink, Lingerie, Blowjob + Lotus Position

Cookies And Cream With Crushed Oreos And Bananas With Nanami = Marriage Pact + Clit Spanking, Nipple Play, Bondage + Doggystyle

Shuhei Hisagi X Reader Cookies And Cream - Marriage Pact Strawberries - Passionate/Romantic Sex / Emotional Bond Chocolate-Covered Pretzels - Missionary

Coffee, With Whipped Cream, And Chocolate Covered Pretzels With Gin Ichimaru = Friends To Lovers + Creampie, Breeding Kink + Missionary

Chocolate, Kitkat And Banana With Geto = Boss/Secretary + Exhibitionism, Dirty Talk, Hair Pulling + Doggystyle

Mint Chocolate Chip And M&Ms With Aizen = Soulmates + Virginity Loss, Soft Sex, Sweet Talking

Vanilla With Whipped Cream And Chocolate Covered Pretzels With Nanami Kento = High School Sweethearts + Creampie, Breeding Kink + Missionary

Tagging some friends :)

@seasparrow @pernesophe @sacredwarrior88 @starsinmylatte @itsfairly

@muzansfangs @harlekin6 @mangiswig @beneathstarryskies

@that-goth-bisexual @hunnie-lily, @bleach-your-panties

@bleachbrainrotbro @kr0wu @stygianoir @kenpachisbrat

@lees-chaotic-brain @actuallysaiyan @hellkaiserinphoenix

@whatshernameis @macchiato-dreaming22 @connorsui

@sitarawrites @j-u-u-z-o @jadedjane @stressed-cryptid

@akatsuki031 @kryptoniteforsale @estarlias

@illusionaryennui @vickkysthings @darkstarlight82

@dreaming-about-seireitei @buttercupbitches @the-eternal-sunflower

All dividers by @/ cafe kitsune Banner by @actuallysaiyan

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lokisgoodgirl · 1 year

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Final Bids [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A link to my (new) Masterlist is HERE Summary: (19) Stakes are high and mischief is rife at Stark's charity auction. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Auction trope. Smuttish. Language. Mild Angst -> Fluff. (w/c 4.7k)

Loki hadn’t shown up fighting his way through customs at the airport. There was no dramatic kiss on the runway, and no hint of his theatrical presence at the other side when you landed at JFK. He’s never text you before, he won’t start now; you thought, staring at the blank phone screen resting on the bar of the Tower’s event suite. You stared at it, hoping for a miraculous flash. This is mad.

“Hey.” Wanda said, sliding into the seat beside yours. “Hey.” you replied flatly. She was dressed to the nines tonight, cleavage bursting from a sinfully red strapless dress. “You better be careful in that thing, Thor will get the wrong idea.” you muttered, taking another sip of your drink. “Oh, I’m counting on it.” Wanda winked. “Have you seen him?” she said, flipping her hair over one shoulder as she scanned the room.

“No...I need to talk to him, actually.” you said, joining her in scouting the bustling crowd. Wanda hummed, distracted. Needing to talk to Thor, you chided yourself; say you’re desperate without saying you’re desperate. “I still think you should have given Stark a pair of used panties for this thing.” the redhead mumbled coyly as she turned back to you, satisfied her audience of choice was not in the direct vicinity. “I don’t think anyone wants my dirty underwear, girl.” you laughed, happy for the distraction. “Please.” she scoffed. “Whatever pheromones you’re pumping out had two gods fighting over you. Lit-e-ral-ly.” she said, emphasising with four slaps of her palm on the bar. “People would pay good money to wear that shit like perfume. Mark my words.” You shrugged, seeing Wanda’s eyes narrow. “I think my pheromones are officially out of business, honestly” you sighed, “Rome didn’t exactly go to plan. I think we’re done.” Wanda rolled her eyes. “You always say that. And then the next time I see you, the hair’s all fucked out and you have a big dopey smile on your face and something new he’s said or done that’s driving you crazy. It’s your thing. Your couple thing.” “We’re not a couple.” you snapped.

“If you say so.” Wanda murmured coyly, manoeuvring the tiny straw hanging off her cocktail into her mouth.

There was a pause as you both ran your eyes over the elegant guests returning from intermission. So far, the charity auction had been a roaring success. Your combat belt went for a respectable forty-eight large, while a pair of Banner’s ripped shorts and Bucky’s unwashed sweatband had both garnered over fifty thousand. You knew the world had gone officially mad when Rogers’ notebook of patriotic mindfulness ramblings reached double that. Tony was working his magic on a group of shareholders near the head of the hall, raucous laughter splitting the gin-soaked air. Steve stood at the podium, frowning. As expected, he was taking the duty of auctioneer very seriously.

“What did you hand over to Tony’s fund, then?” you said, crossing your legs on the barstool. “A bra.” Wanda shrugged, as you spluttered on a mouthful of diet coke. “What?!” she postured innocently, “it’s for charity.” The two of you burst into peals of laughter, your gaze drawn back to Captain Rogers squinting at his cards on the stage. “Oh, Steve’s gonna love that.” you gasped, wiping a tear from your eye. Wanda shrugged again. “They said a personal item that people would want – so I complied.” Clint peeled away from the edge of the crowd, leaning on the bar beside you. “Ladies.” he said solemnly, letting his stare wander from a distance over the pulsing mass of people. “Have either of you seen Laufeyson?” Wanda shook her head. “I don’t think he’s coming, he’s not on the auction list – hasn’t even submitted anything.” she said casually, fiddling with her straw. Your stomach dropped, as Clint grimaced. “Good.” he said, letting out a sigh of relief. You frowned. “What’s the problem?” A forced smile stretched across Barton’s face. “Oh nothing! Just...trying to lay low that’s all. He and I had a little...never mind.” You shifted your handbag on the bar, feeling the weight of Loki’s seal rolling gently against the sides. He wouldn’t want to lose it, you thought; remembering the awkward conversations with airport security in Rome. A flash of green caught your attention out the corner of your eye. Whipping your head towards the entrance, you watched as a polished and preened Amanda sashayed around the edge of the crowd like a shark. Green, you scoffed. She’s really laying it on thick. Amanda teetered on her heels before pausing, forehead creased as she plopped down on a chair and hoisting one leg over the other. Clint cleared his throat. “They’re starting again, Tony sent me to get you guys. Shall we?” The next forty-five minutes went by in a haze as your gaze flickered intermittently to the main doors. Loki never missed a chance to schmooze with the higher echelons of Midgardian society. He enjoyed the look of abject terror on Steve’s face too much. You clapped dryly with the others as each lot was closed: Thor’s silk nightcap, Natasha’s make-up case, Lang’s personalised hip-flask and of course...Wanda’s bra. Where is he? You couldn’t help but notice Amanda glancing over her shoulder, meeting your eyes each time before quickly turning away. She made no bids, you noticed; but her stare wandered to the main entrance with suspicious regularity. The same as your own. Steve rumbled on, pausing for laughter as the crowd graciously indulged their host for the evening. Tony heckled from the side-lines, making the captain’s cheeks flush pink on each occasion. As he began the speech he had rehearsed for the closing remarks, you saw his blue eyes widen. The tell-tale shuffle of bodies parting behind you was the only other sound you registered as whispers ran through the crowd like the rustle of leaves. “Good Evening, Agent.” a low voice drawled softly over your shoulder. Wanda elbowed you teasingly in the ribs, her hands still folded on the high circular cocktail table. You elbowed her sharply back.

Tilting your chin casually to the side, you saw the blurred edge of Loki’s profile as he hovered at a respectful distance. “You’re late.” you hissed, heart thundering in your chest as the scent of him infused the air. You could have sworn the holy incense from the Roman church still clung to his hair. Loki chuckled lightly under his breath, hot air ghosting your ear. “I think you’ll find I’m right on time.” he purred, before peeling away to a space at a standing table to your side. Suddenly your mouth felt dry, flickering your eyes to the side covertly. Loki was wearing a suit tonight, but not just a suit; you whined internally. Never just a suit. Snug trousers of darkest forest green clung to his legs, the straight hem tailored flawlessly to the tongues of his dress shoes. A jacket of green sateen was wrapped around his exquisite musculature, biceps bulging beneath the glossy fabric as he conjured a drink to his open hand. You ran your eyes over the black lapel, his strong chest flat beneath the trussed layers of propriety you wanted to rip from his body.

Beneath the jacket, a silk waistcoat hugged his broad torso; the buttons glinting in the low atmospheric lights. A matching cravat wound around his long neck, fastened with a peculiar brooch you could only assume was Asgardian.

His hair was drawn back in an unkempt bun, messy strands hanging by his carved cheekbones. The contrast between his refined ensemble and the muss of his hair was not coincidental. It couldn’t be. A gentleman in the streets, a ravenous Asgardian whore in the sheets; it screamed. In his free hand, he held a cane; the tip heavy and ornately carved. Completely unnecessary, of course. Of course, you thought – watching him sip his drink with a knowing smirk. People were staring. And among them, Amanda. Steve cleared his throat pointedly, trying to recapture the section of the crowd engrossed in the unexpected late arrival. Your gaze swung back to the blushing blonde just as a stagehand crept sheepishly to his side, handing him a note.

“-and so in conclusion we would like to thank...to...wait wha-?” he raised his hands towards Tony, waving to the note with undisguised irritation. You saw Stark shrug, closing his eyes as his eyebrows raised. Just go with it, the gesture said. Steve frowned. “It seems we have one final item for auction, folks.” the captain said sourly, his feelings on the matter abundantly clear. “Courtesy of Loki Laufeyson apparently...which is..is-” He trailed off as he flipped the prompt card in his hand over, before waving it subtlety to the man who had delivered it, hidden offstage. The stagehand shrugged, making Steve purse his lips. “Well...I’m sure whatever our newest member has submitted for tonight’s fundraising efforts will be top notch. Why don’t we get the man himself up here to tell us about it, since he’s being so coy?” Steve looked smugly towards towards the god in the crowd, before he frowned. Loki was already sauntering towards the stage, tipping the ostentatious cane to excited applause before he began to climb the steps. You could see Steve’s lips moving, the rest of his face a stoic warning. He spun on his heels towards the audience, whipping the microphone cable once. “So, why don’t you tell the generous people here what they’ll be bidding on?” he announced through gritted teeth, an air of joviality barely masking his anxiety. Rogers gaze ran suspiciously over the god's placid features before turning back to the crowd with a showman smile. Loki clasped his hands behind his back, leaning forward to the microphone clenched in the captain’s fist. “Me.” he said, slowly.

There were gasps as the guests leaned to each others ears, hands impulsively travelling to the bidding paddles discarded prematurely. “Ha-ha-ha he’s only joking folks. Let’s not get excited.” Steve chuckled, extending a hand to pat down the enthusiasm on the air. “Why don’t you tell them what they’ll really be bidding on.” he said with a maniacal fake smile that looked like it hurt. Loki’s smirk was a masterpiece of mischief, flirting at the dimples at the base of those devastatingly high cheekbones. He bent forward to the microphone, and you saw the exact moment that Steve realised it was too late to pull it away. “Me.” Loki repeated with a growl, his voice even richer and more seductive the second time. His long fingers wrapped around Steve’s white knuckles, holding him steady. “For one night, for the highest bidder; I will show them what it is to be brought to the precipice of sanity through pleasure. My complete and utter carnal devotion. An unlocking of your basest and most debauched desires. That is my submission to this affair.” He straightened, his eyes flickering to Steve’s face now pinker than his fuchsia tie. The poor captain’s eyes were watering. You felt sick. “What the fuck is he doing?” Wanda hissed, before downing her drink. “This is ridiculous, how dare he... he needs a knee in the nuts-” You turned, shushing her. “No, just...I need to..think.” you muttered. On one hand, if he didn’t go above fifty thousand...you could probably afford it. Just. But then, why should you? The arrogant, cruel prick that he was. If there was ever a way to show you that he was over it, over you – then this was it. Fuck him, you thought; blood thundering as you saw Amanda twirling the paddle between her fingers. And he’s definitely going above fifty-fucking-thousand. You saw Tony begin to squirm as Steve took a few tentative steps to the front of the podium. “You know...ladies and gents I gotta say this is pretty heckin’ unorthodox right here and I’m not sure-” In a handful of frantic bounds, Tony was on the stage; his arms spread wide before he clapped Rogers harshly on the back. “-OK, thanks Cap.” he announced playfully. “Captain Goodtimes over here doesn’t think it would be proper to support tonight’s great cause with this...fine specimen on the bidding block.” He motioned up and down Loki’s long body, his endless limbs wrapped in the exquisite green suit that shimmered like blackbird feathers in the light. “Do you agree with him?” Tony yelled incredulously, winding up the baying crowd with a circling fist as chants of No filled the air. Steve was incandescent with embarrassment, redness flushing down beneath the collar of his shirt. “Are you ready to get a piece.of.this?” Tony roared, as Loki spun slowly on his heels, hands clasped behind his back before he raised them outwards with faux sheepishness. A smile tugged his lips, eyes smouldering across the crowd becoming steadily unsettled as friends became adversaries in the face of competition. Chaos was brewing.

You suddenly felt yourself jostled, Wanda’s hand grasping at your forearm before it slipped away. Swathes of guests crowded forward, each trying to be subtle and failing miserably. Men and women crushed together towards the stage, elbows popping dangerously close to eyes as they readied their paddles for action. “Let’s start the bidding at...twenty thousand.” Tony postured towards the fizzing audience, casting an appraising glance back towards Loki who met his stare with a tilt of his head. His lips pursed, a silent 'ooo' sliding between his lips as he feigned offence.

Tony grinned, pressing the microphone innocently to his chin. “Number seventeen, I see you.” he pointed. “Twenty five thousand.” a strangled voice shrieked behind you. “Twenty-five, not bad.” Tony mumbled, beginning to pace. Loki swung the handle of his cane casually, before making it flip in the air and land expertly back in his grip. The crowd groaned in unison, the scent of mass arousal beginning to hang heavy in the air. You felt your pussy clench beneath your party dress, beads of sweat beginning to form on your collarbone. In a flash, the cane disappeared, as Tony let his forefinger trail down the silk of Loki’s waistcoat, toying with a chain hanging from the pocket. “It’s a nice suit Laufeyson – you’ve got quite the wardrobe, but I think your bidders are more interested in what’s underneath all that slutty satin am I right?” he said coyly, raising an eyebrow. Feral roars of approval sounded around you, as you were shunted back and forth. The man beside you shot up his hand. “Thirty-five!” he yelled, waving the paddle in the air. The increments came like bullets as Loki’s fingers toyed with the silk cravat wound around his neck, sliding the material teasingly from the curve. He threw it into the audience, two women falling to the floor as they became a squabbling mess of bare legs and dishevelled Chanel.

This can’t be happening, you thought with a wave of panic. You clenched the paddle in your fist to your chest, watching the smouldering sweep of Loki’s gaze run like treacle over his captive audience as he began to shrug the satin jacket from his shoulders.

“Fifty!” you heard yourself gasp, arm straight in the air. Tony’s face scrunched, his amusement palpable as he acknowledged the desperate bid with a nod. But it was white noise. “Sixty-five!” the man beside you blurted immediately, shouldering you roughly to the side as he squeezed forwards. You cast a pleading look towards Wanda, who shook her head in disapproval. Tony didn’t have to say a word, pointing to each bidder as they continued to come thick and fast. Loki held his waistcoat with one long finger, dangling it teasingly to the side before letting it drop. It vanished before hitting the floor. Seventy. Eighty-two. Ninety-five thousand. The devastatingly erotic god treated each button of his shirt like an act of foreplay. His fingers caressed the curve before releasing another sliver of fair skin to the sound of baying moans of desire all around you. Beginning to force your way against the tide of bodies to Wanda, you collided with Scott. “Oh hey.” he grinned, eyes wide with excitement. “This is fucking ca-ray-zy right?” Another wave of squeals told you Loki had reached the end of the line of buttons. Suddenly Scott raised both arms, throwing his head back. “A HUNDRED N’ FIFTY BIG ONES!” he yelled, returning to his previous stance as if nothing had happened.

“What?” he quipped casually, giving a shrug of resignation as he was immediately outbid. “Just shooting my shot. Plus, this is legend already. Iconic. No way I ain’t gonna be part of that.” You rolled your eyes, beginning to press against the mass of bodies to the side. “We should get t-shirts. ‘I bid on Loki Laufeyson’…” he joked to no-one. “’And all I got was this stupid semi.’” he added wistfully as you finally reached Wanda. “I saw your bid. It was kind of lame.” she drawled. You shook your head. “I don’t know what to do Wanda.” you whined, wringing your hands. You heard a commotion as the crowd parted over near the doors – a woman had fainted. Loki’s smirk was pure drama as he showed off the endless length of his body with finesse, bare chest glowing beneath the stage-lights. His legs were wide – a perfect triangle wrapped in tight, luxurious cotton that creased against his thighs. The bulge of his cock was clearly visible, every subtle sway of his hips making the fabric stretch against the outline. The bladed angles of his face flashed tantalisingly beneath heavy-lidded eyes as he reached for his belt buckle. Five hundred thousand. Five-fifty. Six hundred.

Wanda rolled her eyes again. “Look – if he doesn’t say it back? Well then he’s the same asshole he’s always been. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that.” she mumbled, taking another sip of her drink. “But the auction-” you whined, feeling Wanda’s other-worldly grip tighten on your wrist. “You’re an Avenger, dumbass.” she growled. “Fuck the auction.” “Fuck the auction.” you repeated unconvincingly under your breath, turning to face the source of your undoing. Loki’s eyes met yours across the room as he ambled forwards, ignoring the hordes of guests who had lost all sense of decorum scrounging at the stage’s edge. They were feral. Over the chaotic din, you could swear you heard the clunk of metal as his graceful fingers toyed with the metal fastening at his hips. He slid the leather out of its loops slowly. Tony wolf- whistled. “Hoooo-eee folks, do I hear seven hundred thousand for a night of debauchery with this actual...real life...bona-fide sex god. Think of the orphans, people.” he jibed, working the crowd into a frenzy. Eight hundred, eight-fifty, nine hundred. You watched the constant flash of frenzied paddles rise and fall, your breaths becoming ragged under duress. “Do I hear one million?!” Tony smarmed, unfurling his arm towards Loki who had placed his hands on his hips, working the waistband of his trousers down to reveal the V of his muscles. “Come on, we’ve all seen the Twitter photos...don’t pretend you haven’t read the tabloids - you know he’s worth it.” Loki flicked a strand of hair back from his eyes, throwing Tony a slow wink as a paddle for the one million bid rose tentatively in the air. Fuck, Tony. you thought, slamming your paddle down to the bar table. “Are you gonna use that?” a woman behind you mumbled inaudibly, before sliding it away. Your frantic eyes found Amanda, still seated elegantly at one of the high stools. There was something different about her tonight, you pondered; as she waited with a look of unbreakable concentration. Waiting to pounce.

There were gasps as Loki reached one arm up, the mouth-watering curve of his bicep matched only by the tight stretch in his obliques. He tilted his chin down, the coquettishly slutty pose making you realise a flood of wetness had begun pooling traitorously between your thighs. He slowly dragged the hair-tie from his messy bun, letting waves of curls fall around his collarbone. “Final bids, folks.” Tony sighed. “I don’t think Laufeyson can take off any more clothes without Steve-y boy going into cardiac arrest.” he quipped, fighting to contain laughter as he glanced at Rogers concealed off stage. Final bids. A wave of nausea rolled in your belly. Who had bid last? Was it the stockbroker, the mayor’s wife? Obama? You couldn’t tell, the mass of jostling bodies melding into one horrible sludge of jealousy. “Two million.” a clear-cut voice called over the carnage. Every head in the room turned to gape at the owner, but you didn’t even need to look. It was her. Tony released a low whistle, spinning on his heels and patting Loki on the shoulder with a commiserate shake. “Two million. No pressure, bud. Hope the royal sceptre has been resting recently.” he mumbled with feigned secrecy into the microphone. Loki chuckled, leaning over. “A veritable bargain, I assure you.” he smirked. “That’s my boy!” Tony chuckled gleefully, spinning to the front. “Two million going once…” Your eyes were wide, turning to Wanda who nudged her head frantically to the head of the room. Tackle him, it said. “Two million going twice…” - “Where’s my paddle…?” you gasped, not thinking straight, “I..fuck.” “Sold!” Tony yelled, to moans of disappointment and reluctant clapping. “To the beautiful Amanda Goldberg for two...million...dollars. Come get your prize, m’lady.”

You saw red, the room starting to spin as the applause grew louder. The flow of Amanda’s dress swirled towards the stage, a bare-chested Loki down on one knee to welcome her with a kiss on her outstretched hand. “Loki, no!” you gasped quietly– pushing the crowd to the side as you elbowed forward. His arm slid around Amanda’s shoulders, planting a lingering kiss on her cheek with a secret smile. “Loki!” you yelled, shoving the final obstacle from your path. Tony. He spluttered, waving his hands dramatically as you hopped onto the stage and took three stumbling steps to where Loki waited with hands clasped behind his back. Even in his stripped state, messy curls hanging devilishly around his chiselled features dark with the lust of baying adoration – he was a prince. Your prince. The crowd began to whisper, awkward murmurs of dissent bubbling like lava at your back. You could feel the heat of their confusion wafting against your skin as it rose in your cheeks. Loki stared unblinking, his eyes narrowing for a split second as he analysed your stricken features.

“Can I help you?” he purred innocently, drumming his fingers around Amanda’s bicep. She gave a loud, cartoonish giggle. You swallowed harshly, throat dry. Loki tilted his head, feigned-confusion painted on his ethereal features. You grasped at your clutch bag, feeling it click open with a fumble of your moist fingers. “I wanted to give you this...back.” you stuttered, arm outstretched with his ancient seal in the flat of your palm.

Loki looked at it for what felt like an eternity, before his eyes finally rose.

“Are you sure you wish to return this to me?” he murmured, arm dropping from Amanda’s shoulder. His chin was tilted to his chest, ropes of muscle flexing at his neck. The growing whispers of the crowd faded to nothing, the beat of your heart the only sound as it thudded in your ears. “No, actually.” you heard yourself say, voice trembling. Loki inhaled sharply. His chest puffed, hard abdominals clenching as he braced himself. Reluctant tears stung your eyes, fingers shaking as the heavy seal began to quiver in your outstretched hand. You tried to blink the impending flood away, glancing to the side. Steve stood behind the wings, wringing his hands with a deep frown. Your eyelids fluttered shut, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. You could hear Tony trying to clear the crowd, tempting them to the bar with the offer of free booze, before Loki’s warm breath fanned your forehead. “Then do not return it.” he said, carefully wrapping your fingers around the cool metal. His hand clasped your own, squeezing gently as he lowered to your ear. “It is yours.” he whispered. It is yours. Maybe it was the scent of him, maybe it was the heat of his naked skin so close, the warmth with which his fingers intertwined with yours, holding his sacred mark. Maybe it was the faint plead in his voice. But as your eyes rose along the carved lines of his chest and up the curve of his neck, savouring every inch – you somehow knew what you would find. Loki’s eyes shone with nervous anticipation, brows slanted upwards as he licked his bottom lip. His teeth caught the curve, pulling gently. They swam with worlds unseen and words unsaid, long lashes framing the endless chaos you had lost yourself within. Hopelessly.

A rogue tear rolled down your cheek, making you look away. “No, darling...no-” Loki murmured, confusion lacing his tone as he wiped it softly with his thumb.

He cupped your face, drawing it towards him. “Please, Loki...don’t.” you gulped, swallowing the force threatening to humiliate you in front of the whole of New York high society. He sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. Tendrils of his hair grazed your cheeks, curtaining you from the crowd at your back as his fingertips slid from your jaw to your shoulders; gently at rest. “Agent, I…” he started, breath trembling. His grip tightened, a staggered exhale making his stomach clench. Three loud slaps sounded by your feet, making you jump. Loki released you with a growl, as you spun towards a very pissed-off looking Tony resting casually on the side of the stage.

“Can you guys hurry up? Trying to save this thing, here. Thanks, Laufeyson, by the way, for the added theatrics. Very amusing, as always.” he scoffed dryly, inspecting his nails. “Will you desist?” Loki hissed, crouching forward. Tony shrugged. “Better get the two mill for the orphans. That’s all I’m saying. Little Loki’s got his work cut out tonight.” “Little?!” Loki snarled indignantly, sweeping his hair back from his forehead as he rose to his full height once more.

The vein in his temple twitched, anger flashing across the sharp profile you knew so well. You grasped his bicep, feeling the tight bulge soften as his breaths steadied. Nerves twisted in your belly like acid, the room beginning to swim as you felt the moment begin to pass. Not again. You took a deep breath; “Loki, what were you going to-” The god whipped round, jaw set in a grimace as he swiped against your forearm with his own. Your hand was swept from his bicep, caught in a millisecond by the warrior grasp of his long fingers. “That I love you, you infuriating woman.” he yelled ferociously, brow furrowing as he realised he had said it aloud. You gaped, frowning as you fought lacklustre against his iron grip. Breaths quickened in your chest, panting as you looked at the abject fear beginning to creep into Loki’s eyes. The gazes of a hundred confused spectators became nothing but a blur, their mutters fading. You stilled, letting your hand become limp. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. Suddenly, you lunged towards him - hooking your free arm around his shoulders. Loki swallowed a gasp as your lips met his with force, a low sigh breathing into your mouth as he melted into you. The god’s hands travelled to your ass, hoisting you around his hips as his tongue massaged your own with wild intensity. A palm slid up your back, winding in your hair as he pushed your face roughly to his. You could hear the PG-curses of Rogers as he frantically hoisted the stage curtains closed, his inane blustering audible over the gasps of intrigue from the crowd beyond. Loki’s feral kisses had moved to your neck, the desperate adrenaline coursing through him as he devoured your soft skin in messy sucks. You found your fingers curling in his lengths, pulling his head back gently. Just like the old days, you thought with a thrill. He frowned, panting. Loki wet his lips, preparing to speak before you covered his mouth with a flat palm. “I love you too, you infuriating whatever-you-are.” you enunciated slowly, lips feeling heavy with the force of his affections. The god’s brows slanted, deep lines appearing in his forehead as he shook his head from side to side; making your hand slip away. “Truly?” he growled incredulously, peering up through ebony lashes. “Truly.” you whispered, watching a smile as radiant as an April sunrise creep slowly across his face. “What happened to ‘I know you love me, Agent’…” you coyed, impersonating the timbre of his voice as he lowered you to the ground. His arms wound around your waist, pulling you flush to his bare chest. “Knowing and feeling are two different things, Agent.” he purred, before placing a languishing kiss on your forehead. “What would be the point in your love for me...” he murmured, muffled against the skin, “if you did not believe it yourself?” There was silence as Loki’s fingertip tenderly grazed your collarbone, steady breaths rising and falling between you as he nuzzled into your temple with a low sigh. You opened your eyes over Loki’s shoulder. “Oh – shit, what about her?” you groaned, giving a small, awkward wave to Amanda several meters away. That’s weird, you thought; frowning. She’s smiling. Smiling like...

Loki’s hand rose, a click of his fingers making the emerald skirts of Amanda’s dress begin to smoulder with bright green flame. “My brother owed me quite a few favours, Agent…” he murmured apologetically with a smile against your cheek.

Your eyes widened as a bulky frame peeled into view behind the mirage of Loki’s magic. But the grin – the grin was still the same. Thor flicked his hair, running his palms down his torso. “That’s better.” he rumbled, throwing you a wink. “Sorry about that…” he chuckled. “Motivation was required, apparently.” He folded his meaty forearms. “I still think you’re mad for being in love with him, by the way. But there’s no accounting for taste.” “You better not have started another Oath of Most Ass-yoor-red Recompense scenario.” you muttered dryly to your dark-haired lover, making another smile stretch across his face. He pulled you tight. “No, darling. This was purely fraternal reparations. Isn’t that right, brother?” he growled. “I have been reliably informed that I have been, what you call, a dick-head.” Thor grumbled penitently, scuffing his foot on the floor. “Indeed.” Loki hummed coldly, before his voice softened. “But tonight has gone some way to mending said wrongdoings. Along with your agreed donation to the orphan-fund, naturally.” “Naturally.” Thor grumbled, averting his eyes. Loki’s fingers toyed with the shell of your ear, the tips exploring the angle of your jaw lightly as if for the first time. “I believe that we should..talk? As is the custom I believe? If you’ll permit it.” You nodded, giddy disbelief still coursing through your veins. “As long as it’s not in this fucking ballroom.” you scoffed, before squealing as Loki gathered you effortlessly against his chest bridal style. “Gods, no.” Loki purred, capturing your lips in a wet kiss before his tantalisingly moist lips grazed your ear. “I think it’s time you finally saw my chambers, Agent -don’t you?”

Continued in Final Bids: Love Wins Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection

Tags @gigglingtigger @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @wheredafandomat @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @123forgottherest @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @mistress-ofmagic @cheekyscamp @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @cheekyscamp @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman

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dindjiarin · 2 years

Text

Hell of a View - Rooster x Reader (Nickname Ginger)

This fic is the result of being unbelievably down bad for Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw.

DISCLAIMER: This is only my second finished fanfic, and the first one I've ever published.

Title inspired by Hell of a View - Eric Church and credit goes to @patheticallydimwiiitted for the song rec/bonkin'-in-the-Bronco suggestion.

Don't copy my shit, plz. Not that it's amazing but like, honor code, guys.

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT (more like sweet smut though), fluff, sexual harrassment/assault references, blood, Rooster punches a douchebag.

WORD COUNT: 5,750

Your skirt flares as you turn to grab the dirty glasses from the bar. As you spin, you feel the breeze from the front door opening. A tall, dark-haired man is walking in toward the bar.

“What can I get you?” You ask, immediately regretting having spoken as you recognize the man.

“Well, hello, Ginger. Look at you still serving us boys- I figured you’d have been snapped up by now.” He taunts, a hungry look in his eyes at his recognition of you. You’re incensed to hear your favorite nickname come from that mouth once more. It had been given to you by some regular bar patrons after a particularly unfortunate box dye incident, and this man did not deserve to speak it.

Your heart stutters for a second, and anxiety rises in your throat. After three years, the man who harassed you has returned from deployment. You hate confrontation, especially at work. It’s not the best character flaw to have when you work in a Navy bar, but it’s you.

“You were banned, Jekyll. You’ve been banned for a while now.” It’s said quietly, but you hope it’s forceful enough. In your peripheral vision you see a man’s head turn sharply at your words. He’s behind Jekyll to the left, seated at the piano, yet no longer tinkling random keys. The bar was relatively empty for a Thursday night and the same few songs kept being selected by one blonde man playing pool with a few buddies. Some 70s rock song was whining from the jukebox.

“That’s the thing - it has been a while. I’m not the same,” he insists. “Anyway, someone told me this place lifts bans after a year.”

“Listen, I don’t know who told you that but they were wrong.”

The brunette man steps closer to the bar. “I’m sure Penny wouldn’t mind me being here for just one visit. I don’t think you truly mind, either.” His smile is leering. He’s trying to unnerve you. Unfortunately, it’s working. Your mind tumbles back to the feel of his rough hands grabbing your ass like he was trying to leave bruises, his gin-scented words whispered in your face as he pressed you into the wall behind the bar that night. He had taken and dropped the trash bag you’d been holding (“This is no job for a pretty girl”) and held your hands above your head. Once your mind had unfrozen, you managed to knee him and dash inside. He had been after you for weeks at that point. Penny banned him immediately. For good.

“I do mind. You need to go.” You say a little firmer. The glass in your hand is shaking from the memory. The left window behind Jekyll darkens as the silhouette of a man rises.

“C’mon, swee-” Jekyll starts to say. A hand lands on his right shoulder.

“She said get out, man,” the auburn-haired pianist states. He briefly scratches the corner of his mustache with his other hand - as if he couldn’t be more relaxed.

Jekyll spins. “What the fuck? Lieutenant Bradshaw?” He laughs, seemingly genuinely pleased to see the man, “Hey, man, how ya doin’?” Then his tone shifts to one a little more antagonizing, “You ain’t been in town for years- you really think you have a say in this, ol’ Rooster boy?”

“Nope. She does, though.” Rooster is so calm, it starts to soothe you, too. You recognize the man who always thanked you after every drink with a “ma’am” despite telling him multiple times to call you ‘Ginger.’ Sometimes when you’d hand him his drink your fingers would touch. He was always warm. Always laughing, singing with anyone. You’d had a serious crush on him since you first saw him. Now, the scars on his neck and chin are illuminated by the sun’s reflection on the bar. His eyes are hard.

“You’re leaving.” You affirm to the other man with the most confidence you’ve felt yet. You set the glass down and begin to walk around the bar.

“You’re being ridiculous. You’re kicking me out because, what, I fuckin’ complimented you years ago?” He scoffs.

Your steps falter for a second at his callous disregard of his own actions, but you reach the front door and throw it open. Rooster’s eyes look up from your feet and you make eye contact - he had noticed. For a second, you feel self-conscious under his gaze.

Jekyll snaps you out of it. “You’re not even giving me a chance. What a bitch. Stuck up cun-” He doesn’t get to finish the vitriol as his jaw is snapped sideways by the punch. Teeth clack together and a grunt issues forth. Rooster shakes his right hand out once. His lip is curled in a snarl; his eyes flash at the other pilot. You feel your mouth drop open in shock.

Jekyll stumbles - away from Rooster and, unfortunately, toward you - and nearly falls before righting himself. He’s far too close now.

“What the fuck, man!” He shouts. The entire bar is silent. “I said, what the fuck, Bradshaw?”

No one says anything. You’re frozen once again as Jekyll looms a couple feet from you. At least you had the benefit of the bar before. Nothing separates you from the anger of the man who now towers over you. His head jerks to you. You’re the easier target.

“This is your fault,” he snatches at your arm, but Rooster is there. He shoves the angry man out the door.

“You know the rules,” Lieutenant Bradshaw laughs roughly, “‘No disrespecting a lady.' C’mon, let’s go, dickhead.” He isn’t suggesting Jekyll go outside alone; it’s a challenge. Rooster stalks out the door after the man into golden-hour light. Your mind spins as you can only watch. The image of Rooster Bradshaw, Hawaiian shirt askew, his knuckles bloody, his hair aflame with the sun, stuns you briefly - and it's a hell of a view.

“You can’t just fucking grab her, and you won’t touch her again. You won’t come back,” Lieutenant Bradshaw orders. “Are you clear on that, Jekyll? I can make it clearer.”

“You’re a fuckin’ pussy. You’re gonna take her side? You’ve known me since A School, man. All this over a four?” Jekyll shouts, insulting you again.

Rooster takes three powerful strides until he’s in Jekyll’s face but he says nothing. Jekyll’s jaw visibly clenches as if deciding something.

He makes the decision.

His left fist slams into Rooster’s stomach; but Rooster was prepared for a low blow, so he hardly bends forward at the pain. However, Jekyll’s right fist lands on the side of Lieutenant Bradshaw’s face, and Rooster staggers sideways two steps. Both men are six-foot-nothing and well-built, but Bradshaw has a stronger emotion than anger on his side. His left hand grabs Jekyll’s shoulder and his right slams into the center of the smaller man’s face once, twice. Jekyll stumbles away again, falling this time to his knees, but he staggers to his feet quicker than you like. His eyes are livid, his mouth and nose full of blood.

Rooster stares him down, a drop of his own blood on the left side of his mouth. His hands are balled and he breathes heavily in anger, facing the sunset.

“I do not understand your problem here, man,” the banned pilot shouts.

“You don’t need to,” Rooster answers. “You just need to fucking leave.” Rooster straightens his tall frame, and repositions himself so that he’s blocking the entrance to the bar.

“Know when you're beat, man,” he warns as Jekyll starts toward him, but then a man pushes brushes past you, then another, then a third. The other Hard Deck patrons have seen enough and two of them pull Jekyll away. One man stands in front of the Lieutenant, defusing. Rooster nods once, then deadpans: “Hilarious coming from you, Hangman.” He then turns around to face the building - and you.

His eyes meet yours, and you’re sure you look terrified. Fights aren’t totally uncommon at the Hard Deck, but fights in which you’re the topic of debate certainly are. Could you lose your job for not stopping the fight? No, surely not. Would Lieutenant Bradshaw get in trouble? Probably, the Navy didn’t appreciate fights between servicemen. It was nice of Rooster to kick Jekyll out, but to continue the fight? How could he have taken that so personally?

“I’m sorry about that,” you apologize as he nears you, though you did nothing wrong. “I- I never expected him to come back here.”

“‘s’not your fault he’s a fuckin’ dick.” He smirks, his mustache quirking up at the corner. He works his jaw around, testing to see if it was truly damaged. His sweat glistens on his forehead, across the small bit of chest visible in the brilliant light; the veins in his neck are pulsing. You notice his Hawaiian shirt is skill askew and the white undershirt has taken a drop of blood from his mouth.

“Let me help,” you hear yourself say; your stomach knots. The adrenaline is wearing off and you’re worried about what to say to the intimidatingly beautiful man who just took two punches - For me? You wonder. You start walking into the rear of the Hard Deck. His slow, sure footsteps echo behind you as you step into the cleaning closet and grab a first aid kit. Then into the kitchen for some ice. When you reutrn, he’s seated at a table in the corner. He’s facing you and he looks oddly satisfied, you think. A strangled giggle leaves your mouth at the absurdity of the situation.

“What?” He asks. “You alright?” When you don’t reply, he continues, “That bastard owes the whole bar a round, but I think he owes you a lot more, honey.”

You smile softly at the concern, but your heart thuds with his use of the pet name. “Yeah, no, I’m fine.” You debate telling him why Jekyll upset you so easily. You want to open up to him, to explain why you were so shaken when that asshole walked into the Hard Deck. Plus, why should you be ashamed of what Jekyll did all those years ago? That was on him, not you. So, you tell him the short version.

“A few years ago, he tried to- well, he grabbed- he kind of- touched me.” You finish lamely, partially second-guessing your decision to tell him such an uncomfortable thing.

He’s silent for a moment, his jaw clenching. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters. The veins in his tanned neck are visible again and your mouth is dry. “If I’d known that I’d’ve kept goin’,” he snorts.

“No, I’m really grateful for your help, but I’m glad you weren’t more seriously hurt,” you say, staring at the small cut on his cheekbone. It ran parallel to one of his other scars. How had he gotten those? The one on his neck looked downright inviting. You shamelessly let your eyes drink him in.

“Mmm, you don’t think I could’ve taken him?” He teases, examining his hand.

“Oh,” you breathe, “I think you could take just about anything.” You weren’t just thinking about fighting anymore, and it resonated in your voice. You bite your lip to prevent further embarrassment spilling from you.

Rooster hears the want in your voice. He's been waiting to hear it. His hooded eyes look up at you through dark lashes and he challenges, “You think you could take anything?” His voice is husky, suggestive.

He lifts up his right hand and you wildly think for a moment he’s going to grab your waist, but then you realize it’s for the bandage you’re holding. You take his hand in your own and carefully wrap the bloodied knuckles with gauze, remembering the times you’d accidentally touched his fingers. You had been right, he was warm. Being close enough to touch him, you smell the sea salt and sweat on him. It shouldn’t be as pleasing as it is. You can feel his eyes on your face, though you keep your own on the gauze. You’re working slowly because you don’t want the moment to end, and you’re afraid of what happens when it does. Your hands tremble, but his are steady. Then, inevitably, you tie the gauze. Your eyes flick up to meet his.

His pupils are blown, the deep honey color of his irises ringing the space you’re falling into. Your stomach drops, leaving you feeling untethered. His mouth opens, his tongue flicking across his lips to wet them absentmindedly. The movement brushes his mustache briefly and you want to do the very same.

“How long is your shift?” he asks, breaking the silence. His dark eyes commanding your attention.

“I close,” you breathe out ruefully, frowning.

“Aw, well that’s a shame, sweetheart.” He drawls, waiting for another answer.

“I’m off tomorrow?” You’re unsure why you phrase it as a question.

His face cracks into a smile that would break your heart if it didn’t send you soaring instead. “How do you feel about flying?”

“Flying?” You’re taken aback. You’ve not been on an airplane in years; the last trip had you kissing the ground upon arrival, but you’re not totally opposed to the idea - especially if your pilot was the best the Navy had to offer.

“Sure,” he answers, “Mav’s got this two-seater we’ve been working on. I think it’s ready for a go.”

You only know who “Mav” is because Penny’s been flirting with him at the bar for the past month or two. Though you had noticed him watching Rooster play and sing, the connection between the two hadn’t been obvious.

Not wanting to give in too easily, you tease him, “Hmm, could be fun. But I think it depends.”

His eyebrow quirks, “Depends on what?” The chair creaks under his weight as he sits up straight, ready for your stipulations. He’s so tall that even while sitting he’s eye-level with you.

“On who will be piloting.”

His jaw drops, his hand goes to his chest in mock-offense. “Wow. Just cut me to my core, huh?” His smirk returns, “Alright, fine, offer revoked.” Your mouth drops open to backpedal but he continues to tease, “How ‘bout a drive then? That safe enough for you, ma’am?”

Though truthfully you absolutely trusted him as a pilot, the image of him in his baby-blue Bronco speeding down PCH, the Hawaiian shirt he’d undoubtedly wear blowing in the breeze, was too appealing. You tilt your chin up and answer in a voice you hope sounds seductive, “I think that’d be acceptable, Lieutenant.”

What neither of you were expecting was his body’s reaction to your use of his title. His eyebrows shoot upward in surprise, his back stiffens. He attempts to subtly shift his hips in an attempt to adjust himself, but he knows you saw. That godforsaken, smug smile, crowned by that retro mustache, returns as he murmurs, “Looks like you better save that for later, darlin’.” He then stands and you’re nearly touching his chest. He slowly steps around you and asks, “Ginger, be here tomorrow for me?”

____________________________________________________

Since Rooster never specified a time, you show up at the Hard Deck the next day at opening. It’s mid-day and the sun is baking down. You’d take the dry Californian heat over the humidity of the South you grew up in any day. There was a breeze from the ocean which pushed at the bottom of your blue sundress. Sitting down at one of the outside tables, you pull a book from your bag. And if he decided not to come, this wasn’t far from how you’d spend a day off, anyway.

An hour later, the sun had conquered the shade in which you’d been sitting, so you head inside. Penny is at the bar with Maverick. They smile at you and Penny asks, “So where you guys headed today?”

“I actually have no idea. I don’t even know if he’ll be here for sure.”

“Oh, he’s comin’.” Maverick laughs, smiling fondly.

Smiling in response, you ask, “What makes you so sure, sir?”

The older man takes a sip of his whiskey and says, “You haven’t noticed? Kid doesn’t take his eyes off you. Most of those piano performances are to get your attention.” He laughs again, shaking his head. “He got that from his daddy.” There’s tenderness in his voice, but you’re unsure why.

Penny looks at you with a knowing smile on her face - you’d confessed your own crush to her a week ago. It had been a literal confession; she’d caught you paying for his drink without his knowledge. She opens her mouth to say something teasing, but the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside fills the quiet seaside air. Worrying about the teasing the two of you would get if he came inside right now, you smile a goodbye at the couple and rush out the door.

Closing his Bronco door is exactly what you’d pictured the day before: Bradley Bradshaw in a tan Hawaiian shirt and board shorts that show off his long, muscled legs. You’re standing there, hands clasped out of anxiety, as he sees you. His eyes meet yours, but they shamelessly trail down your chest and over your dress. He leans sideways against his truck.

“Blue’s my favorite color, y’know,” he grins.

Suddenly you realize you match his truck, and you laugh, “I hope you don’t think I chose the color of my outfit to impress you.” You step a little closer.

“The color is not what’s impressing me,” he blurts, then tries to gloss over it: “You’re ready to go?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

It wasn’t an attempt to fluster him, that word was part of your daily vocabulary, but again his cheeks blush and his right hand moves to his waistband, adjusting his bottoms. He clears his throat. You’re confused at his reaction; doesn’t he call you “ma’am” just about every day? He gives you a look you don’t quite get, and he walks around to the passenger door.

Opening the door for you with his right, he holds out his left forearm for you to grab while you climb up into the car. “Ma’am,” he instructs, proving you were right to be confused.

Deciding that touching him right now would be in detriment to your own self-control, you grab the handle and hop up in the seat before he can assist.

He shakes his head and teases, “Independent, huh?”

“Maybe,” you retort. The door shuts and you watch him as he goes around the hood to his own door. He’s so mesmerizing even just walking. His shoulders roll; he struts. It’s the kind of quiet confidence that strikes you in your core; you’re a little embarrassed as your body responds to something so small. He hasn’t even touched me, you chastise yourself, stop it.

He doesn’t need to jump into the car, his long legs equipped for the job. He turns to you, taking in the sight of you in his passenger seat finally. His mouth quirks into that breathtakingly smug half-smile and you flush with heat. He pops on his dad’s Ray Bans and says, “Alright, baby, let’s go.”

____________________________________________________

“So, where are we going?” You query. The windows are partially down as Rooster rushes along the Pacific Coast Highway. His speed surprises you; you’re not worried about your safety, but you were thinking it would be a lazy drive and it’s clear he’s distracted.

“There’s a hidden spit of beach less than an hour from town - rock piles on both sides. Not a lot of people know about it, and it’s one of my favorite places to think, to breathe.” He answers, glancing at your reaction to the openness of that statement.

Since he seems willing, you ask him, “What do you go there to think about?” Your head tilts a little, a lock of your long, brown curls rolling into your face. He notices, debating whether or not that kind of touch is too soon. You move the hair away before he decides, so he answers your question instead, his eyes on the road.

“Whatever is happening,” he chuckles. “There’s always something.” Then he adds, “We’re nearly there.”

Okay, so maybe not that open. You wait for a moment to see if he’ll say more, but he doesn’t.

You tease, “Ah, well, that’s fascinating. You’re taking me out here to think with you? It’s hard to use that brain without a little help, huh?”

His head tilts back as he laughs. “Corny. C’mon, you can do better than that.”

“It made you laugh. That was its job.”

He glances over at you again, this time with a mischievous look.

“My brain works just fine, thanks. Can’t say much for yours,” he jokes. “Coming out here with a man you barely know? Not very smart, darlin’.”

You’re torn for a second - obviously, you trust this man with your life, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting in his truck, but you can’t help but briefly question: was he making fun of your naivety? Your experience with Jekyll? It doesn’t occur to you that he doesn’t know the details enough to poke fun at you. Your brow furrows for a second, unsure how to process the joke. Your silence makes him uncomfortable. The Bronco slows as he turns onto a sandy side road then stops a few hundred yards from the main road.

His seat squeaks as he turns toward you; Rooster backpedals, “Hey, you can trust me,” his eyes bore into yours, begging. “Shitty joke.”

His eyes are alight with concern, his eyebrows knit together. Rooster mentally berated himself. He’d been incredibly turned on by your outfit, your teasing - more than he expected to be. The entire drive he had spent vacillating between kissing you or waiting, not wanting to screw this up. He’d meant to come across as flirty, but he’d stuck his foot in his mouth instead.

“Oh. No, you’re fine,” you realize the simple miscommunication. “I just misconstrued that.”

“No, I’m sorry. Really shitty joke. That won’t happen again.” He promises, knowing he’ll keep it. He reaches for your hand, truly apologetic. Your core sparks up as his calloused hand takes yours. You watch, stunned by the feeling of him twining and untwining your fingers with his own. Still trying to read your expressions, he waits.

You look up and the light in your core ignites into a fireball as you recognize the look in his eyes. Instead of speaking your forgiveness aloud, you place your free hand on his cheek, your thumb caressing his scars. His eyes close blissfully; his mustache tickling your palm as he tilts his head into your hand. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen a man.

You both let the moment deepen, and his eyes open slowly, pure desire written in them. He leans in further, and you’re frozen in your seat, hand still holding his cheek. His free hand smooths across your cheek and into your hair. He’s so close you can feel his breath, and your lips part to breathe him in. Your other hand fulfills a wish you’ve had for weeks: you touch the side of his neck, and it’s a dangerous move. His pulse is racing, skin heated like the sand outside. Your thumb brushes over his Adam’s apple and he swallows.

Involuntarily, you moan, “Oh,” and he’s done.

He nearly crushes his pouting lips to yours, parting your lips further, and you let his wide tongue dip into your mouth. It feels so good to let him in; you want nothing more than the feeling of him everywhere. The warmth sparks down into your thighs, your stomach. The hand in your hair pulls you in further, deeper. His kiss becomes desperate. Your left hand cups his jaw while the other drops weakly into your lap. When your lips gap in between kisses, a low sound escapes him, sending another wave of electricity through you. His left hand moves to your throat, feeling the soft skin, and he drinks in the soft moan you make.

He breaks the kiss and looks down with lidded-eyes, about to ask you if you’re okay, when you smile up at him. His eyes glance down at your lips again and you can’t take it anymore: you push out of your seat and climb onto him.

Rooster smiles so widely, you almost cry. You kiss him again, deeper, still deeper, as he continues to make those noises that only he could. His mustache tickles and burns in a way you’d never thought you'd love so much. Your thighs enjoy the feeling of his hands, his thick arms holding you up. God, you’re glad you wore a dress. He’s holding you off of his lap, though, he won’t let you feel him, yet. Your hands work to slip his unbuttoned shirt off, but he’d have to drop his hold to do so. The noises you make probably sound desperate but you don’t care. His biceps flex as he breaks the kiss again, this time to see your face as he lowers you onto his tented shorts.

The sound that leaves your lips is a cry of relief at the friction, unstoppable. His dick is already hard as steel, and though the shorts prevent any further study, you cry out at the feeling against your swollen self. Without any thought, you grind your hips against him slowly.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, lips against your cheek. His mustache sends a tingling sensation across your face and neck. Enjoying the feeling of your body as his fingers stroke your exposed thighs, he tilts his head back, which gives you access to his neck. You can’t stop yourself from dropping to lick and kiss him there, biting gently. He goes nearly weak beneath you. You remember your task of removing his shirt, and you all-but rip it off him. His white undershirt, though covering his chest, leaves none of the muscles in his arms to the imagination. You trail your fingers down his shoulder and bicep, momentarily stunned by them.

He laughs, “You alright, sweetheart?”

“You’re kinda hotter than me,” you let slip.

His face falls; he looks hurt. “Are you being serious?” Unsure how to answer that, and upset you might’ve ruined the moment, you grimace. “Holy shit,” he argues, “This isn’t the most intellectual thing I could say because most of the blood is not in my brain right now, but I’m in the Hard Deck almost every day. I love that place, but I don’t need to see it everyday. You, however, I do. I’ve had to - you know - take care of myself more than once after leaving your bar,” he admits. “And shit, that sounds creepy, but I promise, I-”

You cut him off with a kiss, apologetic that you let that intrusive thought out. Then your hand moves to his shorts. Under your lips, a hitched moan echoes as you unfasten them and slip your hand inside. Your lips part and you look up into his eyes as you feel the sheer size of him. Slowly, your hand strokes along him. His eyes close in pleasure and he mutters, “Fuck.” That word sends your body into a frenzy: you need him.

“Please,” you whimper. His grip on your hips tightens. Then, remembering, you beg, “Please, Lieutenant.”

His eyes shoot open, utterly black in his lust. His hips swell upward in response.

Again you push him, “Please, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” and you’re rewarded by the feeling of his dick twitching, straining in your hand still inside his shorts.

He takes you into his arms again, lifting you off his lap. You cry out in protest, but he throws open his door. With your legs wrapped around him, and his arms holding your ass, he gets out and walks to the back of his truck. He sets you carefully on the tailgate, stepping back, and you laugh as you realize the truck bed is filled with blankets.

“This wasn’t exactly my plan, I promise.” His boyish grin devastates your heart.

“You had a plan?” You ask playfully. You reach for his hand and pull him back to you, unable to stop touching him. His arm snakes around your back and he lays you down slowly, his hot mouth on yours.

Though you can’t see it, somewhere nearby is the shoreline, you hear the crash of the waves and the call of seagulls. The sun beats down, but the breeze from the ocean chases away most of the heat. You’re warmed now by the golden body of the man above you. Rooster’s thigh splits your legs open, his knee edging your legs even further apart. You giggle, and he grins once more. You pull his white tank top over his head, and your heart stops for a moment as the planes of his hard chest, his abdominal muscles are revealed to you. You had no idea he was this ripped.

He laughs at your reaction and whispers, “Your turn, baby.” His hand skates underneath your dress, up your thigh, savoring your expressions at the feeling. Then he reaches your hip, and his eyes go wide as his hand finds no cloth to remove.

“I had a plan,” you tease. As you speak, your hands push his waistband down. “One I’ve been thinking of every single day since you walked into the bar. I wanted you so badly, Lieutenant.”

His shorts now below his ass, you start to take him into your hands again but he thrusts against you. His biceps frame your head as he ruts along you, and the cry you make dies with the breeze. His moaning mouth goes to your neck, leaving marks from both lips and teeth. He’s almost feral with want. He sloppily kisses the hollow of your throat, then down across to the neckline of your dress.

“Need this gone,” he orders.

“Yes, sir,” you start to obey, but before you can even touch the material, his arms flex as he tears your thin dress in two.

You gasp in pleasure as his tongue makes its way through the valley between your breasts, his mustache sweeping. The two of you are totally bare to each other, and you’d have it no other way. He thrusts against you again, leaving you gasping. His tongue enters your mouth with an aggressiveness you can’t help but wilt beneath. The feeling is sensational combined with the contact of his skin on your own; like you’re opening every part of yourself to him. But you know that’s not fully true yet, so you hook your calves around his thighs. Your arms cling around his neck, and you hear yourself moan, “Bradley, please.”

“I’ll give it to you, sweetheart.” He tilts his head back to look into your eyes. “I need you to look at me, okay?” You see the admiration and the lust filling them as you feel him push into you. The moans from both of you mingle in the salty air. The feeling of him inside you is nearly unbearable.

“Oh, my god,” you cry out. He fills you so well. You’re gasping again, “You’re-”

He silences you with another deep kiss. His thrusts come hard, but slowly at first. But he’s starving and the sound of his hips slapping your thighs turns both of you on even more. He’s hitting you in a place you weren’t sure existed, building the tension in your body with every push. He leans into your ear, keeping his rhythm, and murmurs, “You drive me crazy. Always. Those low-cut tank tops, your tight shorts,” he sounds like he’s losing control. “You know what you’re doing.” He licks your throat and continues, “You’re mine, darlin’. You’re done for now.”

His words undo the knot in your core, and your body shudders around him. He smiles and says, “That’s my girl.” But he doesn’t lessen his pace. He thrusts faster, needing to claim you fully.

Your body still shaking, you gather the presence of mind to breathe in his ear, “I want to be yours.”

And he comes apart, his hips stutter, the powerful feeling of release shocking through him. He buries one final push as he lets go, and he leans his head on your shoulder, panting.

___________________________________________________

The deepening blue, Southern California sky expands above you. Twilight is approaching and the late hour casts its honeyed light. The breeze whistles softly as Bradley twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers. You lay next to him, head on a pillow, your right arm across his bare body. Your fingers trail the lines of his muscular chest until he disappears under the blanket he’d brought. You briefly wonder what you'll wear home now that your dress is mangled; you smile as you decide to steal his Hawaiian shirt.

“I really did not intend for that to happen. I wanted to do it right with you.” He eventually says, his eyes following a cloud.

“Oh.” You wonder if he’s regretting having moved so quickly. “I’m sorry.”

He shifts to look at you. “No, I just wanted you to know I wasn’t- I didn’t want to just-” He raises his hands in suggestion and makes a face like you know what I mean. He explains, “I mean that I wanted this to be real. A real date. Not a one-time-thing.” He pauses, searching your face, “If you feel the same.”

Reassured, you tease him, wanting him to say it outright, “If I feel the same as what, sir?” You look up at him innocently.

He huffs a laugh, now knowing your game but playing along anyway. His voice starts dangerously low, intentionally sexy, “The same as how you make me feel, honey. Like the world doesn’t matter as long as you’re nearby.” His voice changes slightly into a confessional, “I feel home when I see you, and yeah, maybe that’s crazy -” He trails off, his eyes dance between yours, trying to read you, wondering if he said too much too soon.

“I would say that’s crazy - if it were anyone else. But with you…” You reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheeks, his chin. You pull him down for a kiss, pure sweetness in it, willing him to feel your emotions. “With you, Lieutenant Bradshaw, I’ll never have enough of you.”

“Holy shit, you’re it for me.” He beams, pulling you on top of him.

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 7 months

Text

Dirty Martinis and Gratitude

Pairing: JoeQuinnxReader

Summary: You just wanted a quiet drink but a creep approaches you at the bar and starts getting pushy. Enter Joe who swoops in, pretending to be your boyfriend to save you, and you have to thank him for his kindness somehow, right?

18+ Only

The martini was a wave of sophisticated flavor. The gin and vermouth combined to create a smooth cocktail that was already going straight to your head. The perfect blend of sweet and dry with just a touch of bitterness. Each sip was crisp and refreshing, going down easily, so easily that you had drained long before you should have.

Your eyes slipped closed, the heady buzz of liquor a veil that covered your mind, creating a pleasant haze you deserved after a week from hell that consisted of two Tinder dates that had ended long before they’d even begun.

The first had ended before you’d even ordered dinner when his phone buzzed on the table and the word wifey appeared across the screen. He’d tried to play it off, claiming it was just a joke, a nickname he called his best friend. You were not that damn stupid or desperate. You had grabbed your purse and walked out as he was still trying to explain it away.

The second date had spent your entire dinner on his phone, barely even looking up to acknowledge you as you tried to engage him in conversation. You’d given up and left and honestly, you weren’t even sure if he noticed.

What in the hell were you even doing on these dating apps anymore? You must have been on thirty or more dates now and every single one had been a dud. You had been through so many jerks, misogynists, narcissists, and guys who were just hoping for a one night stand. You were starting to give up on possibly ever finding a decent man. Did they even exist?

A new martini slid in front of you and you looked up to see a blond neanderthal with ice blue eyes smirking at you as if he’d just paid off your school loans instead of buying you a drink. He hopped up onto the stool next to you and your stomach clenched. You’d just come here for a drink. You did not have the energy to go through another shitty encounter with the male species.

“You were looking kind of thirsty over here,” he said, his voice oozing with a confidence built off hours in the gym and probably never being told no in his life.

“Mmm…well, thanks,” you mumbled, leaving the drink untouched. You were not dumb enough to believe a guy called his friend wifey. You certainly weren’t dumb enough to drink something a strange guy handed to you.

“I can think of a couple ways to quench your thirst.”

He winked and you fought the urge to gag. Your hand grabbed for your purse, ready to bolt, but he grabbed your hand, stopping you. You glanced up at him and the grin he gave you made your skin crawl. Yeah, this guy had definitely never heard the word no and he wasn’t going to take it well when you said it.

“Where are you going, sweetheart?” he questioned, eyebrows lifting. “When a man buys you a drink, it’s only polite to at least drink it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m good. I have to drive so one is my limit.”

“Why would you have to drive? I have a car and I know the way to my place.”

“I…”

“Darling! I am so sorry I’m late!”

You had been ready to open your mouth and tell this guy where to shove it. But suddenly, there was an arm around your shoulders, a pleasant voice with a charming British accent next to your ear. You looked up to see who your rescuer was and came face to face with the warmest pair of eyes, making you think of melted chocolate, that perfect cup of coffee, wood crackling in the fireplace.

“Hey there, mate,” he said, holding his hand out to the creep. “I’m Joe.”

“Oh…uh…hey,” the guy stammered, his cool demeanor slipping now that this wasn’t a sure thing anymore. “You two know each other?”

“Well, I would hope so considering we’ve been living together for two years,” Joe laughed, his cheek coming to rest on top of your head, his hand wrapping around your bicep.

Those ice blue eyes considered the two of you as if he didn’t believe the mirage in front of him. You smiled, leaning further into Joe, trying to sell the lie because you needed this guy to believe it. You needed him to walk away. He was giving you the ick like no other. The bastard stood up from his stool, taking a step back.

Joe’s lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Do you really want to sell this, sweetheart?”

You nodded subtly, hoping the blond bonehead didn’t notice. Two plush lips curved into a smile, the sweetest dimples, like little wells of joy forming in the hollows of his cheeks. Those things were a secret weapon he could use to melt any heart. But all those thoughts quickly vanished from your head when thick fingers wrapped around her chin, tilting your head back and you realized what was about to happen.

Joe’s lips pressed against yours, soft as silk and sweet as sugar. He kissed you as if you were a delicate flower. It was sweet and tender, the moment hanging in the air like a promise of what could come if you gave yourself over to him. It was unforgettable, the kind of kiss that made every other kiss feel dull and pointless, leaving you wondering why you’d ever bothered kissing anyone else until now.

Gentle fingertips moved from your chin, gliding along your jaw and then into your hair. You had no control of the soft moan that his mouth swallowed but knew he heard it when you could feel his smile. His tongue glided past your lips, exploring your mouth, licking its way down your throat. Like a meteor racing toward Earth, you were falling, sinking fast, plummeting, on the verge of breaking into a million pieces on impact.

“Well, I think that worked,” Joe whispered as he barely pulled back, his nose touching yours, his hand still in your hair. “You’re safe now, love.”

“Huh?” you gasped, eyes slowly blinking open, having no idea what he was talking about and not caring. All you wanted was for his lips to be on yours again.

“That wanker is gone. I think we sold it pretty well.”

Oh. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks in your stomach. Right. Joe hadn’t been kissing you because he wanted to. He’d been kissing you to help you chase the asshole away. You inhaled slowly, attempting to salvage some of your dignity before he noticed the kind of effect he’d had on you.

“Right. Thanks for that,” you muttered softly, reaching for the martini, needing a drink but Joe’s hand shot out, grabbing the glass before you could and sliding it away.

“No. Let’s not drink that, alright?” He hopped up onto the stool next to you, holding his finger in the air to wave the bartender down. When he caught his attention, he ordered you a fresh drink and one for him as well. “That guy didn’t seem like the kind of guy you can trust not to use shitty means to get what he wants. Better safe than sorry, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling at the bartender as she set your martinis down in front of you. “Thank you again. You save me from a jerk, you save me from a drink, you order me a new one, and now you’re sitting and having a drink with me when I’m sure you have other things to do. If you don’t stop doing nice things for me, I’m going to have to figure out something better than a simple thank you.”

“Mmm…well, there you’re wrong,” Joe mused, bringing the glass to his lips, sipping slowly, his eyes on you the entire time. “I cannot think of anything I’d rather be doing than enjoying a good martini with a beautiful woman.”

Heat flushed your cheeks and you ducked your head, sipping on your own drink. This man was something different entirely. You’d been on enough dates to have seen the spectrum of what was offered but you’d never seen anything like him. Maybe it was those big doe eyes, maybe it was those lips that were as lucious as ripe strawberries, maybe it was that British accent that slid smoothly along your spine each time he spoke. Whatever it was, you found your thighs squeezing together, desire pulsing in your center and you knew if he asked you to go home with him, you would because you were dying to know what he’d be like in bed.

“Okay, so if you don’t have other things to do, what are you doing in this bar?” you queried.

“I am guessing the same as you,” answered Joe, his arm dropping onto the bar, fingertips a mere centimeter from yours as if he was longing to touch you but holding back out of respect. “I simply fancied a drink. Date that ended badly, you see. In fact, that seems to be the story of my life as of late.”

You laughed, shaking your head and raising your glass, “Hey, me too. So, cheers to that.”

“Yes,” he agreed, gently clicking his glass against yours. “Cheers to bloody awful dates. I mean, if the date had gone well, then I wouldn’t be sitting here with you so that’s certainly something to celebrate, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps it is.”

“So, tell me, were you actually on a date with that wanker?” questioned Joe. “Please tell me no.”

“No. I was not. He just sat down, clearly thinking he was going to get to take me home tonight. I actually came here to have a drink alone. I didn’t have a date tonight but I have had a string of bad ones that has me thinking about swearing off men altogether.”

Joe clutched his chest, “Surely not. Tell me it isn’t so.”

“Well, I was thinking about it,” you teased, pursing your lips in a flirtatious smile, “until you came along anyway. Now I’m thinking I may have been a bit hasty.”

“Is that so?” His voice lilted playfully as he leaned forward, the tip of his brushing over your cheek.

“Mmmhmm…” you murmured, barely capable of more than a noise as that nose traced down your cheek and over your jaw before his lips brushed over your ear.

“At the risk of sounding like that tosser, would you like to get out of here? My hotel is just up the street.”

Everything you’d ever been taught was to not go home with a guy you just met. What if he was dangerous? What if he was a murderer? What if Joe was just leading you on like so many others had and would find some excuse to get rid of you once he got what he wanted?

You turned your head, meeting his eyes, and all of those warning bells just silenced instantly. You trusted him. You had no reason to. You didn’t even know him. Maybe his whole rescuing you had been a ruse. Maybe this entire night was a game but you didn’t think so and you found you didn’t care.

“Yes,” you answered simply.

Joe tossed money down onto the bar and then wrapped his hand around yours, pulling you out the door. You allowed him to lead you up the street, the two of you walking silently, your heart beating so loud that it pounded in your eyes, a combination of anticipation and nerves. You trembled and Joe must have thought you were chilly because he slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders, his arm following, tucking you against him.

Jesus Christ, he smelled amazing: a combination of citrus, cigarettes, and something else, something almost floral but deep, a masculine herbal kind of smell. It had to be his cologne. You couldn’t place it but damn, it assaulted your nostrils in the most beautiful way. It was warm and complex and intoxicating. Combine that with the warmth of his body pressed up against your side and he had taken complete control of your senses.

“Here we are,” he commented as you approached the hotel, holding open the door, his hand on the small of your back as you walked into the lobby and crossed to the elevators.

The second the doors closed behind you, Joe’s hand was brushing your hair back from your shoulder, his lips moving over your neck, soft open mouthed kisses that had your knees wobbling and your breath catching in your throat.

“Bloody hell, you smell like heaven,” he rasped, arms slipping around your waist, tongue tracing a line down the side of your throat. “You taste amazing too.”

You spun in his arms, hands holding the back of his head, crashing your lips to his. He groaned in surprise as his arms locked around you, crushing you to his chest. The elevator doors opened and Joe guided you, backing you toward his room, his mouth never leaving yours as he pulled your bottom lip between his, suckling until you whimpered.

Your back pressed against the door as he fumbled in his pocket for his room key, a string of curses muttered between kisses. Your body was a bomb, the beat of your heart the incessant ticking warning you that an explosion was coming soon. Finally, you stumbled back into the room, Joe’s arms the only thing that kept you from falling as he got the door open.

Joe pulled his lips from yours just long enough to tug his shirt over his head, his hands cupping your face once again, lips against yours as he backed you up toward the bed. The two of you fell backward, his arms coming down on either side of your head to keep himself from crushing you.

Your hand moved into his curls, so goddamn soft as his lips moved over your neck again, pulling the tender flesh between his teeth, marking you. Your neck arched as you gasped, hips rolling into his. Joe groaned, pressing back, the feel of his desire creating delicious friction and you found your hips moving against him. Joe responded, grinding against you, his nose brushing up your cheek and then his forehead was pressed against yours. His chest rose and fell rapidly as you moved together, too many damn clothes in the way.

“Darling, if we keep this up, I feel this night will be very disappointing for you,” he warned, those brown eyes dark with lust, only stoking the fire within you.

His hands were on the hem of your shirt then, pulling it up and over your head, tossing it across the room. He sat up, hips straddling your thighs, his eyes soaking in every inch of you.

“My god, love, you are the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shock of pleasure to your very core as his body crashed down upon yours once again and the whole world tilted on its axis.

Joe’s lips trailed delicious heat across your skin, everywhere they touched felt like it was alive, humming with electricity. They trailed over your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, the flesh of your breasts that spilled out of the top of your lacy pink bra. Those beautiful eyes found yours again, silently asking for permission as his hand slid under you, fingers resting on the clasp.

You nodded. Jesus, he could do anything he wanted right now. There was nothing you would say no to and in one quick movement, your bra was gone. Joe groaned in appreciation and then his tongue was dancing over your nipple, the hard bud like a candy between his lips. And then it was moving, nipping at the other, raking his teeth across it as you cried out.

You arched your back, pressing yourself more fully against his mouth. His fingers undid the button on your pants, once again glancing up for confirmation that you were okay with it. The need to have your consent was so damn sexy but so unnecessary.

“You don’t…you don’t have to ask…I’m good…” you stammered. “I am so good with anything right now.”

“Noted, darling. You are so beautiful. When I saw you in that bar, I thought you were the most lovely thing I had ever seen. I knew I would kick myself if I didn’t make my move,” he whispered, his lips pressing against the skin of your abdomen as his hands pulled your pants over your hips. Joe settled between your legs on his stomach, his eyes holding yours. “I want to make you feel good. Bloody hell, darling, I have to taste you.”

You gasped at his words, your body trembling in anticipation. The sight of him between your legs, eager to please you was enough to send you over the edge but god you had to know how that mouth felt.

Joe pressed open mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, his fingers dancing along the skin, up and down. He was teasing, tormenting you until you wanted to scream. Your chest rose and fell hard with each shuddering breath you took. As his tongue finally slid along your folds, opening you up, before finding your clit, you cried out, eyes rolling up in ecstasy.

“Is that good?” he asked, pausing for a moment.

“God yes…” you murmured, whimpering as he continued, his

tongue tracing lazily around and over you. He was taking his time, worshiping you with his mouth and tongue. You had never felt anything like it. You’d never been with someone who seemed so concerned about your pleasure, who seemed to get off on providing your pleasure. He was a man on a mission and he was going to get a gold star because fuck, he was amazingly talented.

Joe pressed a finger inside of you as his tongue continued to torment you in the most delectable way. Your hands curled in the sheets beneath you, bunching them in your fists as you rolled your hips against his face. Joe added another finger as his lips pulled your clit between them, suckling gently on the overstimulated bud.

“Oh my god…Joe…” you gasped, your stomach knotting,

muscles tensing, sensing your climax rapidly approaching.

“That’s it, darling. Cum for me,” he urged, his hot breath brushing over your center.

His tongue began flicking up and down over your clit as he curled his fingers in a way that sent you plummeting over her edge. You screamed his name, your entire body shaking uncontrollably as you rode out your high. Gasping, you slowly opened your eyes to find Joe braced over top of you again, a soft smile playing on his lips, clearly satisfied with himself and he had every right to be.

“Fuck…” you muttered. “I have never…I mean, no guy has ever made me feel like that…that was incredible.”

“That’s how it should be,” Joe said, dropping his head and pressing a kiss to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. It felt so sweet, so loving, so familiar. Everything that it shouldn’t feel like as you’d just met the man. “You should be worshiped like the fucking beautiful woman that you are. Any man who isn’t making sure his girl is taken care of, is no real man.”

“Well, then you, Joe, are definitely a real man because I feel well taken care of,” you replied, smirking up at him. Reaching between you, you slid your hand under the waistband of his pants and into his boxers, gripping him softly.

Joe groaned, his eyes closing, “Hey. I know we just met. We don’t have to go all the way if you don’t want.”

“I want to,” you insisted, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down over his hips. “I want you, all of you, and I’m on the pill so we’re good.”

With a grin, Joe pushed his pants and boxers the rest of the way off. Your eyes widened as you took in the full sight of his naked body, from his strong arms to his soft but lean stomach. Jesus, he was so damn beautiful. He settled himself back between your legs, one hand on his cock, the other next to your head on the mattress.

Joe slowly pressed himself into you, so gently at first, until he’d bottomed out, his pelvis flush against yours. He was thick, stretching your walls more than they’d ever been stretched. Your mouth fell open, eyes slipped closed. He groaned, his forehead dropping against yours as he remained still for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his girth. You wound your legs around his hips, your hands coming to hold his face, letting him know with your eyes that you were good.

“Shit, you feel even better than I imagined,” Joe breathed, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other winding around your back. “It’s like your pussy was made for me.”

“Fuck,” you groaned as he began to move his hips, ever so slowly, pressing himself fully into you each time. Every inch of your skin was pressed against his, as if the two of you were melding into one.

Your hands slid around him, gripping his shoulder blades as he picked up the pace, thrusting into you more quickly. When your nails dug into his flesh, raking over his back, he hissed, hips slamming against yours forcefully.

“Jesus…” he growled. “You’re so fucking wet. You’re taking me so good, love. Feels so damn good…”

You moaned, unable to speak as he pressed himself so deeply within you, it felt as if he were reaching places that had never been touched before. He ground himself against you, his pelvis applying sweet pressure exactly where you needed it. You had never experienced sex like this. She’d been with quite a few guys over the years but it had always been fast and furious, worried about getting themselves off. This with Joe, it was more than just sex, it was like a spiritual experience.

“I’m so close, sweetheart,” Joe groaned. “Is it okay if I…?”

“Yes…yeah,” you managed because you couldn’t stand the thought of him pulling out. You were so close. You wanted him to fill you. Whimpering, you gripped him tightly, shocked at how quickly you were racing toward orgasm once again.

Joe rocked his hips into you once, twice, three more times and then he pressed himself up and into you firmly, holding you tightly against, as his body shuddered and he grunted, filling you with his release. You quickly followed, your fingers gripping onto his shoulder blades for dear life as you soared for the second time that night.

“Fuck me…” rasped Joe, collapsing down on top of you, your sweat slicked skin slipping against one another.

“I think I just did that,” you giggled, your body a useless puddle of goo on the bed.

“Mmm…” he murmured, kisses pressed over your collarbone. “When I decided to talk to you, I never expected to get so lucky tonight.”

“Well, I did say I needed to find a better way to say thank you,” you teased, your fingers playing with his hair.

“Oh, darling, that more than sufficed,” Joe replied, lips capturing yours. “I would say we’re even.”

“Well good. Did uh…did you want me to go?” you asked with uncertainty.

“You must be joking,” he scoffed, head rocking back, the cutest little lines appearing on his forehead as he frowned. He gathered you in his arms, pulling you to his chest. “I am never letting you leave this bed.” He peppered your face with kisses until you were laughing.

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