#darkness & jive | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 1 month ago

Text

I Put A Spell On You.

‘Smoke’wants you back, and he’ll do whatever it takes.

(Part one maybe?)

I put a spell on you

Because you're mine

You better stop the things you do

I tell you, I ain't lying

I ain't lying…

Word got around that Smoke was back in town. You couldn’t miss him with his snazzy suit’s silhouette characterized by broad shoulders, a high waist, and wide-leg trousers. A quintessential element in a man’s wardrobe. The whispers traveled to many ears, but it was only one pair he was concerned with.

Rosetta Scott.

A dilly he’s obsessed with. His soft-spoken jazz singer. She ended their relationship when Smoke decided to up and leave New Orleans with his ill-tempered identical twin brother, but he promised he’d be back and to write him. After two years, he’s back and ready to stake his claim on his woman.

Smoke hopped out of his Cadillac 16 cylinder wearing round, small sunglasses with wired frames. He removed his 8-panel hat and shut the door behind him. Smoke took a long drag of his blunt while staring straight ahead with a lopsided grin.

The reflection within the circular lenses of his dark frames was one he’d missed for years. A living tapestry of culture, history, and an unmistakable passion for life. This place, with its rhythmic streetcars and the spicy aromas from its kitchens, isn't just alive; it breathes stories at every corner.

Stretching his long legs with a purposeful gait, his expensive gaiters picking up dirt, Smoke pushed open the withering, wooden, hinge doors leading into a lively establishment. The smell of fish fry, sweat, cheap cologne, weed, and sex titillating his nose caused a wide grin to spread across his thick lips. He slowly removed his sunglasses, revealing piercing, brandy-eyes and a primal desire.

There she was. Doing what she loved. He was joyful. Proud.

laidback with rhythmic flexibility.

That husky breathy tone.

Her vocals always had a very raw unedited feel which made her songs feel more real and personal. She also tends to use harmonies and layering which sometimes gives the song a drowning all consuming affect.

The silk of her flowing silver slip seemed to mold into her hourglass frame. The premium fur shawl she wore hung loosely from her glistening shoulders. Her lips the color of ox blood stained the mic in front of her. The swing and blues notes with complex chords blending with her sultry voice had everyone on that floor dirty dancing.

Smoke broke his eyes away reluctantly, taking off his suit jacket, placing it on the back of a chair. He ashed out his blunt and placed it in the front pocket of his crisp, white button down. Smoke made his way towards the bar, unbuttoning his sleeves and his shirt along the way.

“Yes, daddy! Play that saxophone!”

“Sing it Rose!”

“Let’s Jive!”

“Ooooweee! If it ain’t Mr. Smoke Stack himself! Come over here!”

Smoke chuckled deeply before dabbing up his uncle and the owner of the establishment; Buck. His liquor breath and gold teeth were two things you remembered about Big Buck. Or, how he’d like to call it ‘I’m Big Buck and I like to fuck’. And boy did he get his share of pussy. He had eight kids to prove it.

“Look at my nephew! Now hold on…where is your twin?” Buck’s yellowing eyes wandered around in search of him.

“He’s handlin’ business. No time to settle. You know how he get. I had to break away tho’ I got business to ‘tend to.”

Smoke accepted a glass of whiskey and took a long sip. It burned so good down his throat.

“Yeah, uh-huh. We know why’s you here! That gal. You know she’s seeing someone else, right?”

The corner of his upper lip fluttered with disdain at the thought of another man touching his bitch. Smoke wasn’t having it. One look into his eyes, she’d fall into his lap again. Wet puss and all. She wrote him often. Sent him pictures. He’d gotten them all. So, was she doing all that while messing with some squat-ass fool?

“Gimme the low down, Buck.” Smoke insisted impatiently.

“Aight, nephew. Another?”

Smoke raised his glass, “hold the hail. I don’t need no watered down shit. I’m tryna get swacked.”

Buck’s gut laugh filled the cramped space between them.

“You remember Phonzo?”

“Shid, not pussy ass Phonzo? C’mon now gal…”

“Damn straight. He wines and dines her. Buys her shit…”

“She using.” Smoke replied.

He turned his eyes on her again. She looked so damn fine. Mmm. That body was nice. He could smell her perfume on his mustache. That amber scented flesh. Smoke knocked the rest of his drink back and stood from his seat at the bar. She ended another song and received a standing ovation. Smoke pushed his way towards the front but before he could get there, a man reached out to help her down. Her joyous laugh made Smoke’s stomach churn.

“Put me down, baby! I had too much to drink!”

“it’s Smoke Stack!”

All eyes fell towards the handsome gangster. Smoke ignored all except those pretty, doe eyes that locked on him with utter shock. Short and stacked. The finest woman in all of Louisiana. Ain’t no way she’s giving all that to Phonzo. Smoke pressed forward, his penetrating eyes racking over Rosetta’s frame. It was easy to tell the twins apart because one had a noticeable scar on his face and the other didn’t.

“Well I’ll be,” Phonzo secured his arm around Rosetta’s waist tighter, “Smoke. What’s shaking, man?”

Smoke’s lips remained tightly sealed and his eyes never left his Rosey. Tension was thick in the air like the sound of the powerful double bass.

I love my moonshine whiskey

Better than I do my man

I love my moonshine whiskey

Better than I do my man

You got have your beer in your bottle

Give me my cool kind hands…

“Rosey…”

Rosetta parted her deep-red lips to speak.

“Smoke…”

That voice. He’d missed it.

Smoke Stack was seeing red.

“Get yo’ hands off my woman, Phonzo.”

“You think you can just show up? This ain’t your woman anymore, Smoke. You proved that when you left her for the taking. Go on somewhere now…”

Phonzo attempted to walk away with Rosetta in his grasp, but Smoke swiftly grabbed her hand, swinging her over towards him with an expert twirl of her beautiful frame. She collided with his sturdy chest, her eyes staring up at him.

Rosetta was still trying to pick her jaw up from the floor. She couldn’t believe Smoke was back. The familiar warmth of his much larger and more powerful frame sent images swirling through her mind of the times they’ve shared. She hadn’t received a letter from him in almost a year. Every single day she worried herself about him. However, Rosetta had entertained the thought of being with Phonzo. Tonight would have been the night that she would have given Phonzo a taste of what Smoke Stack dicked down. It was an act of desperation.

“Rose! Whatchu doin’ gal? Don’t let this fool back into your life!” Phonzo reached his hand out for her to take, “I won’t leave you like he did. Remember? I promised that trip to Chicago. We can pack up and catch a train!”

“I’ll take her to Chicago, to Trinidad, Paris, wherever my money goes, she goes. You had your fun tryna get what’s mine. I suggest you fade, Phonzo…”

Um, make me another two bit pint

'Cause I've got my habits down

I'm gonna wreck this joint…

“Let’s go,” Smoke had a strong grip on Rosetta’s hand as he placed her in front of him to walk away.

Rosetta finally gathered her thoughts. She halted her footsteps inches away from the bar.

“Hold on, Smoke,” She pointed a red nail at him sternly, “How dare you show up here like this?! I haven’t heard from you in over a year! You can’t just walk up in here and whisk me away like some night in shining armor! Who do you think you are?!”

“Says which? I’ve written you!” Smoke shouted back.

“I ain’t get one letter in a year!”

Smoke kisses his teeth, “That’s some bullshit and you know it. Maybe the letters got mixed up…none of that matters now, baby. I’m back. For good now…”

Buck and another bartender watched the two of them go back and forth with amusement.

“We’ll see how long that lasts!” Rosetta sassed.

A gun clicking had Smoke on high alert. He pushed Rosetta behind him and turned, staring down into the barrel of a pistol. Phonzo was sweating bullets. He had two of his lackeys behind him, posted up like they were ready to do damage. Rosetta clung onto the sticky bar top, peeking around to see what the ruckus was about.

“Time to knock you off that high horse. You and that brother of yours don’t run shit ‘round here no more. Give me back my bitch, and we can get back to jivin’.”

“Excuse me?!” Rosetta argued, “I got your bitch—”

“Rosey, relax, baby. Daddy got this.” Smoke looked from the pistol pointed at his chest, to Phonzo with a sinister smile, “You off the cob or something, Phonzo?”

“You tryna make me look pussy in front of my boys?!”

Smoke tilted his head to size up his ‘boys’.

“They shakin’ in they boots just like you. C‘mon now, Phonzo. We can do this the easy way…you put that steel down, and walk away. I came for my woman and that’s it. Pick yo’ self up and use those bony-ass pegs and leave.”

Laugher erupted around them. Patrons watched on like it was a live performance. Phonzo always hated being the laughingstock. No one took him seriously. People tolerated him because Smoke and his twin skipped town to handle business.

“I ain’t going nowhere!” Phonzo yelled.

He pressed his gun into Smoke’s chest hard.

“Nigga, you ain’t got shit—”

Smoke picked up a bottle of Jack Daniels and cracked it over Phonzo’s head. When Phonzo dropped to his knees with shards of glass embedded in his face, Smoke snatched his pistol up and pointed it at the two men that were once standing proud. They both shared a look with each other before bending over to pick Phonzo up.

Smoke placed the pistol in the waistband of his slacks and snatched a handkerchief out of his pocket to clean up the blood that seeped from a gash in the palm of his hand. People were used to violence ‘round here. Too drunk, high, and horny to care about Phonzo bleeding out onto the floor. Buck didn’t blink an eye as he shined a new glass before pouring a gentleman a glass of top shelf whiskey.

“Get ‘em out. Don’t come back, nigga. I’ll use your pistol to put a bullet in yo’ head fuckin’ wit’ me!”

Phonzo—delirious and bloody—was dragged out of the juke joint by his two loyal men. Smoke knew that as soon as Phonzo regained consciousness, he’ll be on the hunt for him. Smoke was ready.

Smoke took a seat at the bar and pulled Rosetta into him. Blunt between his lips, glass of whiskey in front of him, Rosetta gave him a light, watching her daddy with lust.

You know I can't stand it

You're running around

You know better, baby

I can't stand it 'cause you put me down

Oh, no…

“Smoke, Daddy…”

Rosetta took the blunt from between his lips and hit it. He watched her with low, hazy eyes. All he did was walk through those doors. She was at his mercy like he’d never left.

“You’ll really take me to Paris?”

Smoke accepted his blunt, “I’ll take you all over the world, baby…listen, I know I got some makin’ up to do, but don’t you ever do no shit like that again, hear me? I’m a always come back to you…”

“You right about that makin’ up,” Rosetta giggled, “We got all night though. Phonzo was my ride home…”

“Here, go grab my jacket and we can go.”

Smoke tapped Rosetta on her rump and pointed to where he placed his suit jacket. He paid his tab and promised to be back to catch up with his uncle. Rosetta returned and Smoke grabbed her by the hand, ushering her out of the juke joint and into the murky night.

_______________

Smooth leather seats, a pistol on the dash, windows rolled down.

Rosetta and her fur shawl sat elegantly next to a hunk of a gangster. She admired the stain of her lipstick on his cheek when she stole a quick kiss while he opened her door for her.

She missed her Smoke Daddy so damn bad. It hurt to the bone. Smoke could feel her pretty eyes on him and he glanced over to her, giving her a dimpled smirk filled with mischief. They were halfway there to her apartment above a boutique.

“I missed you, Rosey. So much.”

I put a spell on you

Because you're mine…

“Where did you go?”

Smoke took a moment to respond.

“…My brother had business in Texas. Then we picked up some jobs throughout the south. Made enough money to last us a lifetime…Made some bad choices, but I’m richer. Stronger. Ready to sweep you off yo’ feet. I want you to travel the world and sing to audiences bigger than that hole in the wall. Serious, gal.”

Rosetta blinked away tears.

“Don’t do none of that, baby. No crying…”

“I’m just glad ya ain’t dead somewhere in a ditch!”

Rosetta accepted a clean handkerchief from Smoke. She dabbed her eyes to avoid messing up her makeup.

“I made a promise to get back to you and I meant that.”

Rosetta exhales, “I know, daddy…I just…I’ve been so touch starved. I would’ve given Phonzo all of me if you hadn’t shown up…”

Smoke’s nostrils flared and he looked at her with those dark eyes that made her clench her thighs.

“Phonzo don’t know what to do wit’ all that. And you belong to me. All of you. You make that pussy cum while Daddy was away?”

“Yes…but it wasn’t enough. I miss the fuckin’ we used to do…”

Smoke’s Cadillac slowed to a stop in front of the boutique Rosetta’s mother owned. She worked there for extra money, but now that Smoke was back, she didn’t have to work. Smoke opened her door and helped her out. Shutting it, they walked towards the shop and Rosetta opened the door with a single gold key. Smoke observed his surroundings with a sharp eye before following her inside. It was dark, but the moonlight ignited a path for them leading towards a narrow staircase leading up to Rosetta’s apartment that she shared with her mother.

She had some privacy for now since her mother went away to visit family in Baton Rouge for a week. The boutique was closed until she returned. Rosetta opened the door and flicked on a light. It was exactly how Smoke had remembered it. Small and cozy and blessed by a woman that practiced root work. Rosetta walked into their small kitchen and opened the fridge to grab a pitcher of water. She poured a glass for Smoke and herself.

“You can stay for a few days until momma comes back. It don’t matter how grown I am, she don’t like men over…”

“I get it. I’ll have a place to stay. Then you can leave here and be wit’ me.”

“Smoke…”

Smoke finished his glass, sat it on the counter, and pulled Rosetta close. His hands caressed her back and dragged down to cuff her cheeks. Eyes locked on her face, he brought his plump lips to her own, pecking them with soft kisses. Rosetta whimpered and shifted, slightly raising one foot. Smoke hooked his strong arm around her trim waistline. His other hand squeezed the flesh of her plump ass.

“You always know just how to push my buttons, don’t you, Rose? Couldn’t wait for daddy to come back?”Smoke asked with his lips barely touching hers, “That’s alright, though…Im gon’ remind you just who you belong to...”

Suddenly, Smoke delivered a series of sharp smacks to her behind without warning. Rosetta gasped as she felt the sting of each slap.

“Smoke, I’m sorry…I didn’t fuck him…I swear.” Rose pleaded.

“But you gave ‘em hope. If I hadn’t shown up…”

His wide hand lifted her silk dress over her ass and he went to town whacking each cheek—left, right, left—the pain increasing. Rosetta buried her face into his chest, her lipstick staining his shirt. Smoke palmed her cheeks hard, savoring the heft of that juicy flesh in his rough hands.

“Damn,” Smoke stared over her shoulder and down at her rump, “this big ass…mmm…mmm…mmm…I wanna look at that pussy, baby…I still have that picture of your pussy in my wallet…”

Rosetta set up a camera and took photos of herself nude before sending them off to whatever address Smoke told her to send it to. He’d beat his fat dick every night to all her photos. He stole a pair of her panties as a reminder of her scent. Anything to keep his sanity.

“You do?” Rosetta stared up at Smoke.

“Yeah,” Smoke retrieved his wallet from his pocket. He presented the photo to Rosetta. It had cracks in it from being folded, but her hairy mound, phat clit, and glistening folds stood out against the black and white, “She still nice and bushy?”

Smoke had a thing for hair. He hated whenever Rosetta would do a clean shave. Since he’d been gone, she’d started shaving again. Luckily, there was enough hair there to satisfy his desires.

“Not too much, daddy…”

“Mm,” Smoke flicked his tongue against her lips.

“I want you to do it to me, daddy…”

“Do it all night long, baby?”

“Do it to me, papa…”

Smoke’s dick jumped and stretched to proportions he couldn’t handle.

“I wanna suck on that pussy first…”

Rosetta’s clit twitched at the thought of Smoke slurping on her pussy cat until she was wrung dry. She had a lot for him to drank up. When she first laid eyes on him tonight, the wetness soaked through and created a slippery, sticky mess. Those big lips and that thick dick…

“Let me smell it,” Smoke picked Rosetta up and sat her down on the cramped counter space, “Spread your fuckin’ legs you sexy, bitch…”

Rosetta made quick work of her thighs spreading wide and limber. Smoke could see a big wet spot in the crotch of her cotton panties. He didn’t waste time stroking the outlines of her fat lips that strained against the fabric. Smoke chuckled before slipping her panties to the side. His fingertips graced coarse hair covered in slick and heat. Beyond that was a clit made to be suckled.

“Shit, she still get nice and wet for me,” Smoke admired the shine on his thick fingers before bringing it to his nose to take a whiff, “fuccck,” He pushed his fingers into his mouth and licked them clean, “Fresh pussy…taste so good…”

He was down on his knees with his fingers tangled in her panties to keep them out of his way. Rosetta brought one leg up and it opened her lips more for him to eat. The humidity of that kitchen had their brown skin glistening beneath the dim, yellow, lamp lights. Smoke spread her lips and stared into her pussy. Rosetta stroked his slick-back, begging him to put his face in it.

Smoke buried his nose in it first. He rubbed her clit with the tip of his nose before using his lips to encase her clit and suck. He sucked nice and slow to warm her up, but then he created a vortex so tight with his lips Rosetta almost fell from the counter. The sucking came at a rapid pace—precise and intense.

“Uhnnn,” Rosetta gasped and moaned, “Daddy!”

Rosetta stroked her pussy many times to one of her favorite raunchy tunes. Jump Steady Daddy by Lucille Bogan stayed on repeat whenever she rubbed on her clit to the thought of her Smoke Daddy. She missed when he would come to her late at night, sneak in her bed and eat her pussy. She loved it when he would be on his knees, holding her weight up and fucking into her.

Love me, daddy

Love me all the time

Love me, daddy

Love me all the time

And if you love me like I did

You'll be that jump steady man of mine…

“Yes, ooh, daddy, papa,” Rosetta’s thighs shook out of her control, “Ima cum…Ima cum…”

The thin straps of her silk slip dangled from her shoulders and perspiration trickled down her spine. She didn’t have time to prepare before she was creaming down Smoke’s chin. All he did was suck her clit. He came up for air, lips dripping wet and face glistening with cum.

Her nipples poked out through her slip, teasing Smoke’s eyes. He was as hard as stone, unable to bear the feeling anymore. Smoke stood and picked Rosetta up from the counter, carrying her towards her room. The door was ajar, so all he needed to do was nudge it and he was walking inside. He didn’t bother closing the door. Smoke placed Rosetta on her back, climbing on top of her and sticking his tongue in her mouth.

Rosetta smoothed his button down shirt over his shoulders and Smoke pulled his arms through. He had on a white beater that clung to his muscles like plaster. Smoke broke his lips away and trailed kisses down her neck until he was at the tops of her breasts. Rosetta arched up into his chest, soft moans music to his ears.

Smoke used his teeth to yank the rest of her slip down, revealing 34 C breasts with large nipples that reminded him of chocolate-covered gum drops. Rosetta dragged her nails through his hair, messing up the smoothness of it, revealing waves. Her updo had come undone, finger-waved hair falling into her eyes. The salty, sweet taste of her skin caused him to growl.

“Daddy…I wanna taste that dick…”

With a deep exhale, Smoke stood up. Rosetta sat up on her knees with her dress around her waist and went to work undoing his slacks. She pushed down his boxers and his pants in one motion, his dick bobbing out like a pendulum and hitting her on the chin. Rosetta admired how girthy and veiny her daddy’s dick is. She licked up the precum before it was wasted and with her eyes on him, she wrapped her lips around him and sucked.

“Ahhhh…There you go, baby…that’s how you welcome me home…suck this big boy…gobble it up…”

Her soft hair in his grasp, Smoke’s toned hips pumped her throat. He curled his top lip, revealing golds, grunting at the feel of her tight throat.

“Ugh, fuck, baby…the best dick suckin’ bird in N’awlins…”

Rosetta giggled in response. She prided herself in her skills. Sucking dick and riding dick was her specialty. Smoke licked his lips, eyes barely open as he watched her. He tilted his head and started drilling her mouth. Loud gagging noise started, Rosetta’s once pristine makeup now running down her face.

“You’re so beautiful wit’ my dick in your throat, baby…make daddy cum…so I can fuck that pussy…”

His girth increased, Rosetta’s jaws tightening. She grabbed hold of his balls and worked her neck like no other. Smoke chewed on his bottom lip and threw his head back.

“Hmmm….mmmmmm….”

His hips spasmed out of control. Rosetta almost choked on his thick cum. She had to spit his dick out just to swallow what she could. The rest painted her chest.

“Turn that ass over,” Smoke stepped out of his pants and with one hand on his long dick, he pumped it, “On your knees, gal.”

Rosetta brought that ass in the air and arched her back deep. Smoke stood behind her with a big dick swinging. Rosetta hadn’t felt it in two years. She was afraid. Shaking with fear. He had to open her up again.

“Use them big girl words and tell me what you want,” Smoke slapped her cheeks around, “Where you want this dick?”

“Daddy, fuck me!” Rosetta begged.

His dick aligned with her ass and with his big hands he tucked it higher. Smoke grunted and slapped her bouncy cheeks.

“Ouch! Papa…” Rosetta cried, more from surprise.

It hurt so good. With hands as large as his, he managed to cover a wide area of her ass, leaving behind a burning sting that only made her wiggle her ass against him. Smoke rubbed her down before digging his fingers into the flesh, spreading her wide, and thrusting into her.

“Oh, my! Smoke!”

Rosetta’s ass recoiled and bounced off of Smoke’s sturdy hips. He had her by the hair, keeping her back arched. That man was fucking her like he was fresh out of jail. His thick shaft gave her stretch and his length made her feel it in her stomach. The sound of her wet pussy matched the skin-slapping.

“Big dick on you! Fuck!”

Smoke let go of her hair and grabbed her hips. Rosetta looked back at him with her mouth agape and brows knitted together in disbelief. His hair had puffed up and some strands fell over his forehead. He looked wild and sexy. Muscles flexing, golds flashing, eyes unblinking.

“Keep fuckin’ me, papa! Fuck this wet pussy, daddy! Oh my goddddd—”

Rosetta fell forward and buried her face in the sheets.

“Uh-uh,” Smoke brought one leg up, leaned over her, and wrapped a hand around her throat, “You can take this dick. Get that shit you want so bad,” Smoke said.

Every cry or whimper that came out of her mouth, he responded with an evil chuckle or a groan of his own in her ear.

“Grip me up like that…good girl…that’s it baby…”

Rosetta felt hot liquid trickling down her thighs. Tears brimmed her eyes and her body seized up with her release. Smoke withdrew his hips and got down behind her to lick her up. He licked her thighs, then trailed his spit to her folds. He rolled her onto her back and scooted her towards the edge of the bed. Ass hanging off, legs thrown over his shoulders, Smoke put that dick in her pussy and pounded up into her with sharp thrusts that had her toes curling.

“Oh, shit!” Rosetta and her swinging titties couldn’t handle it, “Damnit, Smoke! I’m cumin’ !!!!!”

Scooting her onto the bed, he pile-drived her into the creaky mattress. Folded in half was an understatement. She stared down the valley of his impressive body at his dick.

“Big Daddy!” Rosetta pressed her feet into his chest, “Fuck me good! Take this pussy!”

“This my fuckin’ pussy…”

Smoke slammed into her before dropping down to kiss her soft lips again. His thrusts turned into modulated pumps that caused her to gasp. Each time his dick would enter her, she would gasp with surprise. Smoke nibbled on her pouty bottom lip and stared into her eyes longingly.

You know I love you

I love you

I love you anyhow

And I don't care

If you don't want me

I'm yours right now…

“Cum for me Smoke Daddy…”

His forehead furrowed and with one more sharp thrust, he erupted deep in her womb.

———————-

497 notes · View notes

cow-smells · 1 year ago

Text

Perv! Sanji hc's

Word count: 710

Warnings: sanji being a major creep, dubcon, drunk reader, im not great at warnings so just know this has dark themes and if that's not your jive, its best to skip this one

A/n: honestly and seriously, im embarrassed to have written this. the character of sanji and actor taz live rent free in my head. it is an issue. i will be seeking council

He doesn’t become obsessed with you immediately after you join the crew. He’s after you the same way he is after any other woman, but the more he gets to know you, the less interested he is in other women until eventually, you’re the only one he sees.

And when I say obsessed, I mean the man is OBSESSED.

You could do no wrong in Sanji’s eyes. Every little thing you’d do, he’d fawn over and praise you for

It certainly didn’t hurt that you were receptive to his wandering hands when he would praise you

He took it upon himself to teach you to cook. Whenever you’d manage to improve your skills or make something tasty, Sanji would pick you up in an excited hug, he was so happy you were learning from him

And when he’d put you down from said hug, his hands always somehow found themselves on your bottom, squeezing, pushing you against him

The kitchen was his favourite place to be with you

There was a lot less space to move around than there was in the kitchen at the baratie, but Sanji didn’t mind; it just gave him a reason to have his hands on your waist anytime he needed to move you around – he loved how easy it was for him to control you like that

And whenever he needed something from a shelf above the counter where you stood, it was an excuse to cage you in, grinding his groin over your bum

Sometimes he’d use the fact he knew you were busy in the kitchen or someplace else on ship to allow himself in to your room

He’d smell your sheets, imagining waking up in them with you

Ruining them with you

He’d never leave your room without a souvenir

His favourite? Your used panties

He’d settle for a washed pair if you didn’t have any used ones but he just loves them used

It’s the closest to your cunt he could get right now

Sanji would spend those nights jerking off with your panties in hand, cumming in to them, thinking about you wearing them after

He once heard you whisper to Nami that you kept losing your underwear. Nami threw a glance at Sanji’s direction, but didn’t voice her suspicions

So Sanji learned to wash them and put them back, and it was actually nicer than keeping them. He liked thinking that you indirectly had his cum on your cunt

Any time Sanji would see you having any type of positive interaction with Zoro, the jealousy would send him up the wall

His frustrations would manifest themselves in extra-intense fighting with Zoro and being a lot less subtle with his perving on you

After he’d have a fight with zoro, he’d go to you for comfort

He liked to hug you from behind, acting upset and in need of your care, but really he just liked how you’d let his hands wander to your breasts

If he felt really bold, he’d let his hands snake under your shirt or your skirt

If you’d try to push him away he’d play up how distressed he was about whatever happened, he knew you have a soft spot for him, that’s why he loves you

He knew what your favourite dessert is and he loves making it for you. He may or may not have cum in the frosting.

He makes you cocktails all the time. He tries to get you inebriated because then you’re much more receptive of him sneaking his way in to your bed.

He knew you wanted him when you were sober, too, you were just shy and needed to be pushed in the right direction

He loves it when you’re drunk – he can kiss you all over, touch you all over, mark you up as his (which was partly for himself, and partly so zoro would finally take the hint)

And being drunk made you so cuddly. Sure, he was hot for you, but he really did love you and just loved having you wrapped around him

#sanji x reader #opla!sanji x reader #opla!sanji smut #opla!sanji fanfic #sanji smut #sanji fanfic #one piece sanji fanfic #one piece sanji smut #vinsmoke sanji smut #vinsmoke sanji fanfic #vinsmoke sanji x reader

2K notes · View notes

last-starry-sky · 1 month ago

Text

kinktober day 6 - threesome

ghost x soap x f!reader (continued from yesterday's post here)

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 1.6k (lmao💀), NONCON: kidnapping, oral, edging, unprotected piv sex, threesome. Again, this is off the rails insane ghoap action from the start! Don't read if you don't jive with any of the above warnings! if I missed anything please let me know!]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

It isn’t far to the tiny hole-in-the-wall your two kidnappers call home. Soap carried you the whole way: down a side street of the narrow alley, up two or three stories of rickety, rusty, external metal stairs, then, with a check of his shoulder, in through a door that sounded more moisture than wood.

It’s just as dark inside as out, which you’re silently glad for. The flat doesn’t reek of anything dangerous that you can notice in the scant few moments before he throws you to the bed. No mice scratching in the walls. No holes either. Just the funk of men: body oder, sweat, old food, the bed especially has that distinctive, human, smell of cum. Besides the all-over, borderline condemned, feeling, the structure makes you wonder if they’ve been squatting in an abandoned building. That, or some slumlord is actually charging them for this hovel. You don’t know which situation you’d rather be the truth. Neither are good.

You threw up a puff of dust as you landed on the bed. Looking up, you watched as the motes spiraled gently in the stale air, winking in and out of sight as they were caught in the crack of weak, orange, light that managed to creep in through the uncovered corner of the window behind you. Someone had haphazardly tacked a sheet across it, intending to keep the little room as insulted and blacked out as possible.

Soap didn’t let you look around for long. He was on you like an animal, teeth bared in a manic smile as he crawled up the bed. You yelped as he pushed open your legs, still in their tattered tights, to sit on his haunches between them. With both hands, he grabbed either side of the collar of your t shirt and tore it open, exposing your breasts.

By the slash of orange light you could see one eye as he tipped his head: wide, sparkling blue, and mad. He stopped for a brief moment to savor the sight by the same light, moaning a low, animal ohhh as he stroked his fingers up your chest.

You knew you couldn’t fight him, didn’t even want to bother to try. That was a fool’s bargain that would only end with you more injured, possibly dead. You closed your eyes and turned your head away, intent on not letting him have the satisfaction of your reaction. If you could hold back, that is.

Or at least, that was your plan. You didn’t foresee the massive man on top of you being wrenched back until he was fully off of you. Soap let loose a pained yip, followed by a more human whine, then, as you opened your eyes, a pleading, “ow ow ow ow! Sorry, Ghost! Sorry!”

After you managed to pull the scraps of your shirt back over your chest, you looked down the bed to see Ghost, tall, strong body still mostly in shadow, holding his partner up off the bed by the shaggy back of his mohawk.

Any other time, you would have let yourself laugh. As it was, however, your automatic response was to clasp your hands over your mouth, watching with wide eyes as Ghost brought the smaller man, kicking and struggling, up to his face.

“What the fuck was that?” he bellowed, uncaring if you heard. “I let you have somethin’ nice, once, and this is how you act?” he said gesturing at you, helpless and spread out in the middle of the bed. He let go, letting Soap fall to the ground with a hard thump that had you wincing behind your hands in sympathetic pain. Soap scowled and whined at the foot of the mattress, rubbing at the sore spot on the nape of his neck.

Ghost left him there. He sauntered over to your right, boots stomping loud enough to kill the last shred of your belief that, perhaps, there were neighbors downstairs that would help you. He scooped up your rigid frame, forcing you to lay against his chest. His massive hands gripped yours, fingers wrapped around your wrists to keep your hands away from your face or keep you from covering yourself. He was warm, but you still shivered as you looked down your body. Your feet, still in your shoes, pointed at Soap.

In the dark at the end of the bed, he looked like his pride had taken quite the blow, but his pout turned, spine straightened, and eyes brightened when Ghost bid him join with a, “C’mon, Soap. Give ’er a proper welcome.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Soap scrambled up the bed, wrenching your legs apart by your feet to bury his face against your pussy. You bowed away from him with a gasp, his tongue laving up your sodden panties the lat thing you expected.

Soap moaned, forcing your kicking legs over his shoulders. If he cared, he didn’t show it. He was content to peel away the lace plastered to your core to lap up your juices, losing himself completely as he ate you out. He moaned and whined as he moved against you, strong tongue swirling as he sucked and bit at your clit. His stubble pricked at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

You tried to close your eyes and turn away as you’d done before, bottom lip clamped in your teeth to kill the pitiful cries caught in your throat. Ghost put a stop to that the moment he noticed. With barely any pressure on the hinge of your jaw, he popped open your mouth.

“Nunna that, love,” he chided softly. He kept his hand on your face, holding you in a bracing hug to his chest with the other, letting you flop against him. He knew you couldn’t escape. He let Soap draw a long, whining cry from you before dropping a bit of praise for him. “There you go, Johnny. That’s a good man.”

Tears were running down your face by the time Ghost pulled you completely away from Soap’s mouth. The pair had been edging you for what felt like hours, Ghost let Soap, or Johnny as he called him now, bring you right to the brink, your cunt clenching against nothing in anticipation of the pleasure about to wash over you, before pulling you cruelly away.

You told yourself every time that you wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t beg. This wasn’t right, you told yourself. They were driving you crazy, using your body against you until you forgot that you didn’t ask for this, that they had kidnapped you. You forgot that, somewhere in those hours as your brain melted under their torture. Ghost held you as you shook, wet, engorged pussy cooling as your orgasm faded away once again, his obvious erection knocking against your back.

“Please,” you finally begged, voice weak and cracking. Your head lolling against his broad chest. “Please let me cum. I don’t care-”

“Can I, Si? Please?” Soap asked immediately, pulling his slick-coated face up from the wet sheets.

The man behind you thought for a moment, his fingers drumming against your ribs. He pressed his cloth-covered mouth to your ear when he spoke. “Me or him. Whod’ja want?”

You looked up, searching for any hint of a face, any humanity, in the man behind you. Johnny pressed his face to your thigh, a pleased hum vibrating your skin as Ghost pulled his hood back. It wasn’t much to go off of, but it was more than you had before. The black balaclava clung to the form of his face, making the skull print all the more ghoulish. The open oval around his eyes made you blush, a gasp catching in your throat as you finally got a look at his dark, heavily-lidded eyes.

With a squeeze of your thigh, he broke you out of your stare.

“You!” you yelped out.

Without a word, he drew you up his chest as he repositioned himself, allowing enough room to unzip. He reached down, tearing off your panties before lifting you up to position your hole over his cock. When he let you relax downward, his head kissed up, catching the thin skin of your hole. As he groaned, a shiver ran down your spine because goddamn he was so big what the fuck-

“Soap,” he sighed, low and rough, rolling his hips up to pump the first inch of his dick into the dripping mess of your pussy. You whined as his fingers bruised into your hips, forcing him farther inside. “Get over ‘ere. Deserve this too.”

In a moment, you were pressed between the two of them. Soap freed his cock, sliding it through the mess he’s made, knocking your twitching, sensitive clit with every thrust. He tipped your head back, swallowing your increasingly higher and higher pitched whines with his mouth. The taste of your own tang on his tongue sent your brain spiraling. Soap rutting against your clit, moaning every time he pulled away, combined with Ghost grunting as he split you open on his cock, broke you.

Not a handful of thrusts in, you were cumming. Both pairs of hands wrapped around you, holding you and forcing you down as you shook, clenching at the cock inside you. Somewhere in your blurry, post-orgasm mind, you realized Ghost continued to work your boneless body up and down his dick until he came. He rested his forehead on the back of your neck, hips stuttering as he pumped you full. Soap wasn’t long after, taking himself in hand, he lay spurt after spurt up your cunt as he tried to nuzzle against the man behind you.

Still in that haze, you felt Ghost pull from you before he dumped you to the side. You were drifting to sleep, listening to the wet slide of tongues that could only be Soap and Ghost making out, when a voice caught your last slipping bit of consciousness.

“I know she'll be good. Let’s keep her. Please. Please, Si?” Soap begged, sweet and low, mumbled against his partner’s lips.

You were out before you heard his answer.

#mw2 #ghost/soap/reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader #starry writes #kinktober 2024 #call of duty #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #IT'S DONE #crazy how i knew exactly what i wanted to write yet it took half the fucking day to get it written #idk why but i love writing them so fucking weird and gross #gremlin men

112 notes · View notes

kingdoms-and-empires · 15 days ago

Text

After Dark Review (Zombies!)

I recently had to go travel and read a few works that I never got around to reading but was interested in.

PLEASE REMEMBER THIS REVIEW IS DONE BY ME AS A READER AND IS MY OWN OPINION.

This means I will review in accordance to my own tastes, how the game caters to me, and what I feel. Do not take my word as gospel, what I may not be interested in or dislike, may be what YOU are interested and love!!!

@dalekowrites

Synopsis:

A few years from now, in Little Peak, Michigan, a teenager is ready to go to sleep.

While the heavy industry is more active than ever, the effects of global warming are evident, with higher temperatures, dying bees, and animals acting weird.

It has simply been another normal Wednesday, but little do people know that it’s the last day of normality Mother Nature has granted them.

After Dark is a scientifically accurate apocalyptic horror. You’re tired of zombies rising from the ground for no reason? You don’t believe in ghosts? Glittering vampires aren’t for you? Then you have to try one of the three different stories that unfold in After Dark.

When a global pandemic starts to transform people into dangerous monsters, which path will you choose? Will you fight for humanity? Will you stay for your family? Or will you run away in search of a better future?

Review:

The Good: Why does every IF Zombie game have the authors kill themselves in the coding department? This is in the good section, so it isnt a bad thing, though sometimes I worry for the sanity of the author lol. Anyways, After Dark is ambitious! Here are some of the things the author implemented:

Three different routes with three completely different stories. (1 is being worked on right now, the other two have not yet been implemented yet as far as I know)

A phone with a social network, gallery for the ROs, a newsletter, and a weather forecast app... of which you need to charge without it being annoying thankfully!

Characters remember what you talk about and will bring it up in future conversations, so you cant be two faced lol

A romance autonomy system that you can switch on that allows ROs to flirt with you!

Random encounters to encourage re-playability.

An inventory system.

A weather system, that can be prepped for using the weather app on your phone.

Hourly progression system, there are only a set amount of hours in a day that you can use to do things without affecting you.

Discoverable side stories.

A private journal that keeps track of stuff for you. Kinda Elder Scrolls coded and i jive with it haha

And crazy enough, there's more. The above sounds complicated and overwhelming, but it isnt for the reader somehow. The author was able to integrate all the above without it feeling intrusive or annoying.

As for the story itself, remember this is currently one route. The writing is well done, it isnt overly flowery or super descriptive to the point of walls of text. Instead it gets to the point effectively and without losing points.

It made me want to read more, and that is exactly what we readers look for as we scour the IF space for more stories.

ABBY

I really like Abby. She's the preggo lady you can find, and I love the humanity she brings to the story. She does some things thatll make you go:

All of the characters feel grounded and not tropey if that makes any sense. And the dynamics of the group can change with the MC's input, or lack of it.

And then food. Holy shit, the need for food actually felt immersive lmao, whenever id find a snack or something id snatch that mfer up

The Bad:

I would like more zombies. The characters, the narrative, and the plot works well. But I'm worried of being presented with more human on human conflict/drama instead of the undead, and to that I recommend the author to introduce more scenes where we can see the horror, eeriness, and sadness that such an apocalypses would induce. Make a scene where the player is being chased by the undead because of a fuck up, it can be MC's or one of the characters to create tension or drama and it can even make an RO moment occur. Or a scene where you can enter a school, or one of the FEMA camps and see the aftermath of an incident where the zombies break in or someone infected got in. Of course, the author is steadily updating, and what I just said may very will be in the cards of a future update! But I do think something involving the zombies should occur sooner than later, as the beginning scene with the parent and the chaos, horror, and tension of the scene still stayed with me, and i was hoping to reach those emotional heights again while playing!

The Ugly:

Other than a few gender variable errors of the ROs and the regular grammar mistakes found in any IF, the biggest issue i had was with presentation. I'd recommend the author to clean up the spacing between paragraphs in the future when they have time alongside the new update.

The Aftermath:

Zombie IFs just don't seem to miss. Almost all are able to land within the "good" category whenever one releases, and this has the potential to land right in the "Chef's Kiss" tier. I'd recommend this game to anyone craving a zombie IF, and im excited to see this develop more in the future! The characters are grounded, flawed but not annoyingly, and capable. The story is plausible, and the narrative makes sense. Honestly? I want more and I want it now!

#after dark #interactive fiction #dashingdon #hosted games #choicescript #choice of games #if wip #interactive novel #zombies #if review

58 notes · View notes

glossysoap · 1 year ago

Note

(A little angsty snippet I just thought of. Like a RTC au)

After about a year since your dissapearance, Gaz goes missing on a mission. One second hes there, telling the team he's cleared a building, the next his com is quiet, his weapons are on the floor and he's gone.

Simon and Johnny just completely crumble. It happened again. They let someone else that care for dissapear. Price shuts everyone out completely. Task Force 141 is in a dissaray, half their members gone, the remaining falling deeper and deeper into depression.

----

Gaz won't stop struggling against the multiple black clad men. Not until he sees you standing in the corner of the room. Dressed in a similar uniform, and a blank expression on your face, you're watching him. He freezes.

"Y/n..."

----

You visibly stiffen. You felt like you were hit with a truck. Memories of...this man popped in your head again and again. He knew you. You knew him! Eyes widening when he was shoved into the chair, you stepped forward and grabbed a doctor's wrist before he could start activating it. Your metal arm whirred and readjusted.

Then the room was plunged in chaos. You dodged arms and weapons and grabbed the man, yanking him out of the chair before quickly pulling him out of the room and rushing down the hall, heavy footsteps following closely behind

(I reached my creative limit, you can continue writing the scene lol. Does y/n and gaz get out? Do they get back to 141? Or do they get caught amd gaz is killed or trained to be a new soldier🤔🤔)

déjà vu ; ready to comply - verse

warnings/tags: this is a drabble so it won’t be perfect. gore, description of torture, weapons, maybe some inaccuracies when it comes to geography but this isn’t school so 🫣

notes: russian will be in bolded italics, and english translation will be in non bolded italics. chapter 10 of rtc is coming soon i promise i promise i promise!! hopefully this is enough to tide you over in the meantime.

this isn’t canon in the ready to comply fic. here’s the fic itself that you’ll need to read in order to understand.

word count: 4,000+

playlist: i was all over her - salvia palth, digital silence - peter mcpoland.

🏷️: @viylikescats @warenai @briacreations96 @fullmoon-94 @breadboyayay @breadboyye @kiroshang @zvdvdlvr @lunitalloronaa @itzzjxlyn @lonely-ofc @m0rganit3 @badbishsblog @wolfyland07 @angelsdemonsmonsters @unkn0wnd3ad @itstokyo-cos @c1rice @venusianlustt @bugonawall @wakusbonkus @shadowycreatormentality @blackrose4242 @blackgaladriel @lilpothoscuttings @thvxr @tapioca-marzipan @luvmeijii @atjamesbbarnes @h-leigh @writingmybeloved @chloeforde @divine--serenity @hunterbunter3000 @zittles3000 @thriving-n-jiving @mar-mar-mel @namgification @ivymarquis @crazy-phan-girl13 @goodsoup03 @schaarfyx @rhyanna6012 @abbiesxox @kenz-ee @whateverwhocares6 @sae1kie @thychuvaluswife @elichisstuff

Ten months had passed since you were captured.

Winter had changed to Spring, the snow that stuck to the grass had melted away. Flowers bloomed in their absence. The sun was blinding, almost mockingly so — how could it be so bright and light when you were dead? Shouldn’t it be dark and gloomy? Full of thunderstorms and howling wind?

Spring had changed to Summer, bringing sweltering heat and humid air. There was a pool available for marine training on base, so it was always utilized for anyone to cool off if desired. When the base was stricken with heat waves, you could always be found in that pool. Sporting a swimsuit in your favorite color, keeping yourself afloat by resting your elbows on the edge of the concrete behind you. You would just relax in the cool water, legs swaying in the natural current created by other swimmers. You would lean your head back and close your eyes, basking in the refreshing cold instead of the sweltering heat.

That summer after your disappearance death, though? It couldn’t be more different.

It was full with recruits and some soldiers, looking to cool off from the hot temperatures. You weren’t in the pool, enjoying the cool water and relaxing, without the stress of assignments. You were no where to be found.

Soon, Summer had turned to Fall. Leaves changed colors before falling off of the trees from which they were hanging. The green foliage would turn into shades of orange and red. The sweltering temperatures would finally change into a pleasant chill. People would bundle up, but not to an overwhelming or inconvenient degree — just a light jacket would do.

Fall was always your favorite season. You enjoyed the weather, as it wasn’t snowing just yet, but it definitely wasn’t full of heat waves anymore.You especially enjoyed the little things. You enjoyed layering your jackets and wearing boots. You enjoyed the taste of warm apple cider or hot chocolate on a particularly chilly night. You enjoyed the feeling of curling up in front of a fire, bundled up in a blanket (that you would never admit was stolen from Soap and Ghost).

Soap and Ghost knew it all too well, how the chilly season was your favorite.

They would always see you sipping on your hot drinks while you worked on your reports, your lips quirked up at the edges as you savored the sweet taste. Ghost would notice when your eyes searched your room for your favorite jacket, then your eyes would brighten when you see him retrieving it for you. He always knew where it was, miraculously. Sometimes, he would even catch you before you put it on yourself, and he would come up behind you and put the jacket on for you. He would be so gentle, pulling the sleeves on each arm and making sure the jacket was on comfortably. He would make sure to adjust the collar when he faced you, taking note of your wide eyes and flustered gaze under his attention.

On particularly chilly nights, Soap would notice how you blew air into your hands to warm them up. He would jog over to you and offer you his jacket to wear, and have you stuff your hands in the pockets. When he was feeling more bold, he might unzip his jacket and gesture for you to walk over to him, before enveloping you in his big arms and the jacket at the same time.

(….)

Soon, it was November 2020. Ten months since you had been captured. Ten months since a cloud of darkness settled on the task force. Ten months since a hole was carved into the hearts of Soap and Ghost.

The 141 was stationed in Moscow to investigate a potential terrorism threat, with their plane five minutes from touching down.

“Let’s go over the plan again. Ghost and Soap, you’ll be providing air support from the neighboring buildings. Gaz and myself with be inside, gathering intel and clearing the building. All clear?” Price’s voice echoed throughout the aircraft.

All of the men nodded.

(….)

The building was quiet, Gaz noticed. Too quiet.

He could hear the floorboards creak under his boots with every step he took. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he held his rifle, pointing the weapon forward in case he came across any hostile.

The scope light on his rifle illuminated the dark, dusty hallway.

He kicked open door after door, peering inside the rooms and scanning for any hostiles or hostages. Rifle raised and ready to empty a magazine into any enemy soldier that enters his sights.

After fifteen minutes, Gaz had cleared the first five floors of the building of any hostiles. He had also found multiple documents detailing the future plans of the terrorist group.

He only had one more floor to clear. The penthouse.

Every room on the last floor was ransacked. Desks rummaged through, papers strewn about and blood splattered on the walls. The flickering light fixtures had fallen from the ceiling and were now dangling from exposed wires.

Every other room had a dead body or two in it, blood pooling around their bodies and intestines spilling from their guts. Gaz could guess how long some people had been dead for by the rotting stench that flowed through the room, and how their skin had lost any warmth or color.

Nevertheless, he still stepped into every room and skimmed through the papers and yanked open the desk drawers, hoping to find any intel worth using.

In a few rooms, he found files that may bring the task force to new leads. The files ranged from coordinates to details on dirty politicians. He slipped the files into his backpack before zipping it shut.

He quickly finished clearing that floor and reached to click on his radio, clicking until he was tuned into the task forces radio.

“Bravo 2-6 to Bravo 0-6. All clear. Ready for evac—,” Gaz was interrupted by a soft thud behind him, before a needle pinched his neck. He turned around to see who had ambushed him, but his vision went black before he could make anyone out.

At the sound of Gaz’s radio abruptly cutting out, Price’s brows furrowed as his hand reached for his radio.

“You’re cutting out, Sergeant. Repeat your last.”

Static. No response. Nothing but static.

Hearing the conversation, Soap and Ghost looked at each other as a feeling of dread washed over them.

Something wasn’t right.

(….)

Their feelings of dread were confirmed when they arrived on the penthouse floor. What they saw was Price kneeling in front of Gaz’s combat gear and weapons, all strewn across the floor.

But Gaz was gone. Nowhere to be found.

(….)

The next day, Kyle gasped awake, eyes wide and darting around to scan his surroundings. He was being dragged by two soldiers, dressed in all black and faces completely covered with masks. Heavily armed with assault rifles and tasers — all weapons that were second nature to him. But seeing those soldiers so heavily armed only served to remind him that he was completely unarmed himself. He had no gear to protect himself from injuries either.

Speaking of injuries, if the pain radiating from his shins were anything to go by, whoever captured him must have sprained them. They also felt raw and inflamed, like they were scraped.

Not only was he unarmed and stripped of any combat gear, but his muscles felt numb and sluggish. It was as if his body lost circulation and needed to be shaken for the pins and needles feeling to go away.

His legs were heavy as his feet dragged along the floor. If those soldiers weren’t dragging him from his underarms, he surely would’ve collapsed onto the floor by now. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

He must’ve been drugged.

He was being dragged down a hallway with grey walls and flickering lights, concrete floors that were stained with blood and waste. He could smell the metallic scent and the pungent smell of ammonia with every breath he took.

Screams echoed through the hallway and sent a chill down his spine. The screams came from men and women, even children. All at the top of their lungs, no doubt leaving their throats raw. Some of the people even screamed for help.

As each scream and wail hit his ears, his breath quickened and his heart raced with panic. He needed to get out of here.

It took every bit of willpower in his body and every cell of strength, but he started thrashing in the soldiers’ grasp. His muscles burned as they awoke, jolting his nerves with every movement he made — but he persisted nonetheless.

He kicked and screamed in an effort to escape from their hold but to no avail. All it did was make the soldiers’ huff in frustration and jerk him forward, still dragging his body like a ragdoll down that hallway.

After a minute, the soldiers reached a metal door. It was engraved with crimson octopus with a skull for a head. The tentacles of the octopus spanned out around the skull, almost in a perfect circle. Rust and dirt lined every crevice of the insignia, from the eye sockets of the skull to the suction cups on each tentacle.

The door was metal and had multiple locks and latches, as well as a keypad. It was also equipped with a fingerprint scanner and retina scanner.

Without releasing Kyle from his grip, one of the soldiers used one hand to key in a code and press his thumb against the scanner. He then pulled his mask down in order for his retina to be scanned.

The door opened with a creak.

Once the door was opened, the two soldiers dragged Gaz into a room filled with other soldiers. The room was filled with security cameras, headlamps, and medical equipment. A chair was in the middle of the room, with a couple of doctors stationed next to it.

Gaz’s wide eyes darted around the room nervously, looking at every threat and accessing the situation. He was desperate to find any means of escape.

As his eyes went from soldier to soldier, doctor to doctor, they landed on a face that made his breath catch in his throat. One that he hasn’t seen in nine months.

Yours.

He freezes in shock. He felt like he was hallucinating at the sight of his friend standing there, alive, when you had been assumed dead for nearly a year.

You stood across from him on the opposite side of the room, leaning against the wall. Your gaze was cold and calculated as you stared at his thrashing figure. Your (eye color) eyes didn’t hold any emotion or recognition, nor did the rest of your face. Your jaw was clenched and your lips were pressed together. Your brows were relaxed and your head was held high. Your (insert hair texture) hair was kept out of your face with (braids or hair tie).

The more his eyes lingered on you, the more changes he noticed.

You had gained a substantial amount of muscle since the last time he saw you. Before you were captured, you had the muscle build of a civilian — someone who wasn’t trained in the special forces.

Now? You looked like you had skyrocketed past basic training and could easily hold your own against any of the task force.

Your face was now littered with scars, lines of raised and blistered skin left behind from missions and training. All the marks of a worthy asset.

Some scars healed jagged and some healed straight. Some were still fresh and inflamed, others were old and already healed completely. One started above your left eyebrow and cut straight through, almost slashing your eye but just missing it. Another started underneath your right eye and spanned across the bridge of your nose, then ending under your left eye. Another started just below your right cheekbone, slashing down past your jaw and ending at your jugular. Another scar started right above your upper lip and slashed through your lip, before continuing down to your chin in perfect symmetry. The scar tissue on your upper lip puckered, leaving your mouth almost in a permanent snarl.

The scar that made Gaz’s eyes water was the nasty slash that spanned all the way around your neck, in a perfect circle. Little slits decorated that nasty slash, marking the slash every few inches.

Gaz’s eyes widened as the realization hit him, of what caused that scar. Barbed wire.

Your nose was crooked as if it was broken over and over, before healing incorrectly.

He also noticed how similar your clothes were to the soldiers’ attire. You wore black cargo pants that were equipped with thigh holsters on each leg, one holding a hand gun and the other holding a tactical knife. Your kneecaps were protected by leather knee pads. You were wearing black combat boots as well.

You wore a black leather jacket and a black tactical vest, straps buckled on your chest. The jacket was long sleeved only on your right arm, but completely sleeveless on your left arm — revealing your metal prosthetic arm.

Gaz gasped at the sight of the metal arm in place of where your flesh used to be.

“..(Y/N)?”

You visibly flinch at the man’s words, eyes widening as images flashed through your brain. The laughs that burned themselves into your memory were now echoing through your mind. It was as if a puzzle piece fit back into place.

“You’re the new medic, right?” A voice came from your right, all young and British. You looked up from your medical instruments to see a soldier jogging towards your station. He had darker skin and kinky hair that was cut very short. His eyes were a warm brown framed by thick lashes, and his smile felt infectious. He was sporting a light blue button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He wore tan tactical gear, complete with a tan bulletproof vest and tan cargo pants. A patch of the United Kingdom’s flag was velcroed onto his vest, matching the hat he sported as well.

“Right you are, Sergeant. Y/N L/N at your service,” You joked as you held your hand out for him to shake, meeting his soft yet calloused hand with yours.

“Please, call me Gaz. It’s nice to have someone to keep us from killin’ ourselves out here.” He grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners.

You were pulled out of your memory by the sound of the man, of Gaz, shouting.

“Get the fuck off me!” He shouted, thrashing in the soldiers’ grip as they tried pulling him over to the chair. The same chair you were shackled to ten months prior. The same chair where you witnessed your own arm being torn off, your muscles shredded and bone splintered off.

With that thought in mind, suddenly something switched. You wouldn’t let anything happen to him. You wouldn’t let any harm come to the one fragment of your past life that you can remember.

You pushed off of your position on the wall and charged at them, without an ounce of hesitation. Even as doctors and other soldiers around you called your serial number, or demanded that you stand down, you ignored them all.

Except, three guards already began advancing on you. You didn’t waste any time in taking them out.

The first tried to strike you with a taser baton to incapacitate you but you easily dodged him, elbowing him in his throat before kicking his shin and sending him to his knees. The next two tried taking you on at the same time. You started by punching one in the throat and sending him coughing to the floor, which let you take on the other guard. You grabbed his neck with your metal hand and brought his head down to meet your kneecap, a loud crack hitting your ears. He bounced off of your knee and fell back on the concrete floor, blood flowing from his nose and mouth.

The first guard was scrambling to his feet so you pulled a knife from your holster and threw it at him, hitting him square in the neck. His carotid artery began spewing blood as he fell back to the floor, gurgling as blood trickled from his mouth.

You gazed upon every other soldier and doctor in the room, assessing whether they were a threat anymore. They were all wide eyed and skittish, and some had even stepped backward.

You were now able to set your sights on one of the men holding Gaz. You used your metal arm to grip his throat and you squeezed. Only a few seconds passed before he let your friend out of his clutches. The cold steel of your hand almost crushed his windpipe as you dragged him by his throat to stand in front of you — acting as your human shield.

The second that the HYDRA soldier was in front of you, you snaked that metal arm around his neck to keep him in your grasp. You used your other hand to reach into your holster and grab your handgun.

The other soldier that was holding Gaz dropped him instantly, letting him fall to the floor. Thankfully, the drugs had worn off long enough so he had regained feeling in his muscles. His knees were still aching but aside from that, he was able to move. Your friend wasted no time in scrambling up from the floor and limping to stand behind you.

The soldier in your hold was squirming and thrashing in your grip, but due to your genetic enhancement, his struggle was useless.

You pointed the gun at any soldier or doctor who dared to step towards you and your friend. Your eyes darted to every soldier and doctor in this room, with your eyes narrowed and teeth bared.

Almost daring them to challenge the very weapon that they created.

“Вы не тронете его.” You will not touch him. You growled, before emptying a round into everyone else in the room.

(….)

The second that you left that room, you told Kyle to take the soldiers’ assault rifle while you were still using him as a human shield. You tossed your own handgun to the floor as it was empty, and pulled out a similar gun from your human shield’s holster.

“I’ll lead, you cover me from behind.” You murmur as the two of you began sprinting down the hallway.

“Roger.” He nodded without hesitation.

You knew the guards rotation patterns and schedules like the back of your hand after being kept here for so long, so you knew that the hallway would be clear except for two guards at the very end of the hallway.

Once you neared the end of the hallway, you motioned for Kyle to stand behind you.

You approached the two soldiers and they quickly started shouting when they noticed you using a soldier as a shield. You aimed your gun at them and tightened your hold on the soldier in your grasp at the same time.

The soldier in your grip began coughing and gasping for breath, clawing at your metal arm. At the sight of their fellow soldier suffocating, the two soldiers raised their hands in surrender.

But you didn’t release the human shield.

You emptied a round into the two soldiers, letting blood splatter the walls and enjoying the sounds of their cries of pain as bullets tore through their flesh.

You enjoyed watching as their bodies crumpled to the floor in a pitiful pile, their intestines spilling out of their stomachs. One of the soldiers even whimpered at the sight of his organs spilling out.

You knew he was feeling nauseous looking at the red flesh and muscle tissue, mixed with blood clots and plasma.

“Не слишком хорошо, не так ли? Смотреть, как твое собственное тело разрывают на части?” Doesn’t feel too good, does it? Watching your own body get torn apart? You spat.

You yanked your metal arm and heard a sickening crack as you snapped the human shields neck like a twig. You tossed his corpse to the ground next to the two others.

“You alright? Ready to go?” Gaz spoke up beside you, still holding the assault rifle. You could feel his eyes on you as you knelt down and took any of their handguns, ammo, knives and grenades.

“Yes and yes.” You muttered, kicking the corpses aside before punching in a code to the keypad which unlocked the doors.

When you kicked the door open, you saw that there were no guards in this hallway — just like you expected.

The two of you wasted no time sprinting for the set of stairs leading to the exit hatch.

Once you reached the hatch, you keyed in the exit code. The metal creaked as you easily pushed the hatch open, letting light pour into the stairway.

You and Gaz stepped out of the bunker before you pushed the hatch door closed with a clank.

Once the hatch door was closed and locked, you turned to look at Gaz who was already staring at you in disbelief. Taking in all of your enhancements and changes, let alone the fact that you were still alive.

He was about to open his mouth to ask you, were you really okay? Why was your arm replaced with a prosthetic instead of simply repaired?Most importantly, how were you alive?

But before he could, you spoke, “Can you walk?” You nodded towards his injured legs.

He glanced down and almost nodded before realizing that he couldn’t possibly limp all the way to a boat or plane, then all the way to the base.

He looked back up at you with a sigh and shook his head.

“No problem.” You shrugged before cupping the back of his knees with one arm and holding his back with another arm. Without breaking a sweat, you lifted him up off the ground and into a bridal carry. He yelped and wrapped his arms around your neck.

“Take the gun and keep it to cover us, just in case.” You ordered, receiving a nod in response.

From there, you ran away from the bunker while you carried him in your arms. Gaz pointed the rifle behind you and scanned your surroundings to ensure you weren’t being followed.

Orange leaves crunched beneath your boots as you ran, and the pleasant wind blew against your cheeks.

A few minutes passed as you made the trek from the bunker all the way to the shore. From hills, to valleys and finally the docks.

When the wooden docks came into your sights, you slowed down to a jog before carefully setting your friend down. He winced when his feet hit the floor, but continued providing cover for you nonetheless.

You scanned the docks for a moment before you finally landed on a miracle; a motorboat that was tied to the dock. Your face split into a rare grin as you reached to pat Kyle on the chest, without taking your eyes off of the boat.

“There’s our ticket out of here.”

(….)

Twenty two hours later, you had approached the docks of Seoul. Luckily, the motorboat was full on fuel and stocked with water, so your journey to safety wasn’t as bad as it could be.

The two of you stepped out of the motorboat and made it to solid ground on the wooden docks. Gaz cracked his joints and stretched, letting out a sigh of relief.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, eyeing your friend up and down.

“Better. Mostly just hungry and homesick.” He replied while gathering any supplies from the motorboat.

“We’ll hitch a ride on a plane and there’s going to be food there.” You told him, scoping out the nearby civilian life and storefronts. “Where am I taking you?”

His brows furrowed in confusion.

“Back to the boys..?” He trailed off, as if it was self explanatory.

You quirked a brow.

“Who?” You asked.

His eyes widened in realization. You remembered him, but you didn’t remember the rest of the 141. You didn’t remember your life with them either.

“It’s nothing. Just England is fine, then I can take the lead from there.” He forced a smile.

You noticed his air of unease but nodded anyway.

The two of you abandoned the boat and headed towards the town, carrying the supplies and weapons with you.

Once you entered the town, you had found a directory with a map on it. On the map, it showed where the nearest airport was. Luckily for both of you, it was close by with only a few miles on foot.

The two of you made the trek to the airport in good time, weaving your way through the crowds in order to enter the building.

On the way to the schedule board, you passed a gift shop. You peeked inside to find it empty, as the employees were away from the shop. You saw a duffel bag that looked perfect for carrying all of your supplies, and you made quick work of snagging it and shoving everything in it.

You and Gaz headed towards the flight schedule board, where you could see a scheduled flight for England would be boarding in half an hour.

Right next to you, you heard a family speaking in obnoxious British accents, arguing over their travel plans. You assumed that they were vacationing in Seoul and about to return home to England. They were arguing so fervently that none of them noticed as the mother dropped some things from her purse. Two of the items being tickets. You also spotted a couple of pounds. Your lips quirked into a smirk as you hatched a plan.

You could feel Gaz’s eyes on you as you walked up to the family, a faux sweet grin painted on your face.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you two, but I noticed that you dropped your phone, ma’am.” You picked it up, along with the two tickets and the money, and gave the woman her phone with a polite grin.

“Oh, you’re an angel!” She fawned, her red lips stretched into a smile. She waved at you and pocketed her phone, before turning back to continue arguing with her family.

You turned to Gaz and gave him a peek of the tickets and the cash before shoving them in your pocket.

Gaz raised his brows, impressed.

With some stroke of luck, the two of you managed to slip past security. After that, you didn’t waste any time jogging to the boarding area. You two then waited in line to hand your tickets to the receptionist.

Luckily, the names on the tickets were believable to be your actual names, as the woman smiled and sent you two on your way.

You returned the smile before grabbing Kyle’s hand and all but dragging him through the hallway that led to the plane.

You and Kyle glanced at each other with relief once you sat in your seats.

(….)

The flight to the United Kingdom lasted thirteen hours.

You had wanted to stay awake for the entire flight so that he could sleep, but he insisted on you sleeping for the first six hours while he stayed awake. Then he would sleep for the next seven hours, and you would stay awake.

Sleep came way too easily for you. Maybe it was because even a plane seat was more comfortable than the small cot in your cell. Whatever the reason was, you weren’t complaining.

When you were awake, you took any food that you were offered, no matter if it was just some peanuts or a plain sandwich. It was better than the slop or the protein shakes that you were used to.

Once the flight landed, you gently shook Gaz’s shoulder to wake him up. He mumbled something incoherent as he awoke, before stretching and letting out a yawn.

The two of you stood up and you reached to get your duffel bag from the overhead luggage area. You let Gaz lead the way down the stairs of the plane and out to the terminal.

Gaz flagged down a cab with a raise of his fingers and the two of you piled into the car, your luggage sitting on your lap.

He told the driver a random location, one that pricked the back of your mind and made you wince in pain.

It was so familiar but so not familiar at the same time.

You tried to shake it off as you clenched your eyes shut, leaning your head back against the headrest in an attempt to quell the pain.

Before you knew it, the car came to a halt. You opened your eyes and saw Gaz thanking the driver. You reached into your pocket and pulled out all of the cash you stole, before handing it to the driver. You didn’t know if it was too much or too little, but by the excited nature of the driver, you could guess that it was too much.

The two of you climbed out of the vehicle and shut the doors behind you, watching as the cab pulled away.

You turned to see where you were dropped off, only to be hit with an onslaught of shocks radiating in your brain.

The two of you were standing in front of the military base belonging to the 141. You didn’t know who it belonged to, nor did you care. You just knew that it was way too familiar and also too alien at the same time.

The big walls of the base resembled a fortress, the familiar brown and green colors of the building sending shocks to your heart.

You could feel your heart pounding in your ears and your breath quicken as you noticed more familiar features.

The security outside. The big double doors. The military vehicles parked outside.

Your ears rang and your vision blurred. This was too much, too much, too much.

You could only feel Gaz’s hand pulling you along, all the way to the curb and to the double door entrance. He only stopped for a moment, to allow the security camera to grant him access.

(….)

One day after Gaz disappeared, the team landed in the United Kingdom.

Simon and Johnny had resorted to staying in their quarters, mourning one of their only friends. Gaz’s disappearance also reminded them of your disappearance ten months earlier, which ultimately resulted in your death.

The two men usually laid in their bed, nestled in each others arms and gripped each other tight. Price was the only person they had left besides each other, and even he was isolating himself from everyone.

The captain took Gaz’s disappearance the worst. He blamed himself for not being on the same floor as him the entire time. He could have taken out any threats while Kyle raided the rooms for intel. He should have done that. Gaz would still be here if he did.

Even worse, Kyle’s disappearance served to remind Price of your disappearance. Your screams echoed in his head, even after all this time. Knowing that you had sunk to the ocean floor and died a cold and lonely death after being swiped right from under their noses only made Price spiral.

He imagined Gaz being hurt just like you were. Stabbed, bones cracked, and drowned.

Price had taken to isolating himself in his office, cutting off any contact with Simon or Johnny. Even Laswell.

The three men not only had to mourn one of their best and brightest soldiers and their best friend, but they also had to mourn you all over again.

What was the point to completing missions if the team would get smaller and smaller each time? What was the point of staying a team if there was barely any team left?

(….)

A few days after his disappearance, what remained of the task force was still mourning their lost soldier.

Simon and Johnny had only left their room to meet Price in the conference room. The meeting was called in relation to disbanding the task force, due to the loss of half of their members.

It was on the first floor, so they walked to the elevator closest to their room.

Simon pressed the button leading to the bottom floor and leaned against the wall of the elevator, threading his hand with Johnny’s as the door shut.

The two men stepped out of the elevator and saw Price waiting outside of the conference room, throwing him a nod of acknowledgment.

The three men were about to walk into the conference room when a buzzing sound caught their attention. It was the same buzzing sound that rang out when the receptionist let someone inside the base.

Because the entrance was right across from the conference room, the three men could easily see who was coming in.

When they saw their teammate who they thought was dead, they all gasped in disbelief. Price’s eyes pricked with tears at the sight of his protégé alive and well. Soap and Ghost let out a relieved sigh at the sight of one of their only friends safe and sound. It was as if their feet moved on autopilot with how they were already running to meet Gaz at the front door.

“No- don’t leave!” They heard Gaz plead to someone that they couldn’t see.

Gaz pushed the door open further, thus revealing who he was talking to. If seeing Gaz made the boys gasp in disbelief, seeing you standing right in front of them damn near took their breath away.

You froze when the door opened all the way. Your eyes darted from the bearded man with tears in his eyes, to the man who wore a skull mask and glossed over brown eyes, to the man with the same cerulean eyes you had dreamt about.

“(Y/N)?”

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

#glossywrites; ready to comply⛓#cod x y/n #cod x you #call of duty #cod modern warfare #soap mw2 #ghost mw2 #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley x reader

542 notes · View notes

scuttle-buttle · 8 months ago

Text

Co-Pilots

Nobody asked for this. I have the flu. I needed something nice to focus on and apparently this was it. Blame @lorna-d-m my partner in crime :) also kudos to winniemaywebber and sagesolscitcewrites because i def read all their stuff and was vibing it and the pet names and stuff sooo hard

Rated: 18+

Word Count: approx. 3k

Tags: MMF, fluff and reassurance, mentions of wartime ptsd, body confidence issues, mentions of having children, PiV sex, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, voyeurism, no stated use of contraception

A/N: Croz is referred to as Crosby, Harry, and Bing in this (so as not to confuse). And idk what rank Rosie is by this point so were just going with Major

✈️

The bright lights blinded you the first time you walked through New York City; tonight was no different. Flashes of neon whites, golds, blues, reds, lit up your path as you entered the lobby to the Ritz hotel. Your husband had made arrangements for you to meet him in the city much as he had a near 2 years ago during the height of the war. You wanted to meet him at the airport. Crosby insisted he find you at the hotel. And now, with Hitler defeated, he was on his way home. For good.

His phone call had startled you. Usually, you wrote him weekly, sometimes more if you felt lonesome. Harry’s letters were less frequent, but no less loving. Little Steve kept you more than busy most days, back home safe terrorizing your mother and father while you got some rest and relaxation with your Bing in the big city. The toddler was a shining light in your dark days. He had the same dark curls, the same downturned eyes as his father. A piece of your love that was yours no matter what the war brought - or took.

You’d nearly lost your footing when you heard his voice, gruff and mellow, across the line. Darlin’ it's me, he'd said, I'm coming home but I've got some business to finish in the city, meet me there. I'm bringing Rosie, you remember him yeah? Said he'll take us dancing at the best jazz spots. I love you Mrs. Crosby. See you soon.

Now you wait in the lobby for your love and his friend.

Minutes tick by as you wait. Maybe the plane was late? Maybe they had to meet somewhere after landing to debrief? Maybe there was a problem with the engine? Just as your maybes started to drown out the chatter and bustle around you a voice rang out.

“Well ho-ly mackerel, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes Mrs. Crosby.”

The sight of your husband had you dashing into his waiting arms. Tears streamed down your face as you kissed him senseless over and over and over. Crosby couldn’t contain his laughter at your reaction, nor did he bother hiding it when he wiped his eyes dry.

“I’ve missed you so much Bing.”

His forehead rested on yours. “God how I’ve missed you too, Darlin’.”

Over his shoulder you notice a taller man, stylish moustache and curls neatly gelled into place, attempting to avert his eyes and give your reunion privacy. You were struck by how attractive he was. “Bing?”

“Oh!” Harry takes a step back. “Darlin’ this is Robert Rosenthal - or Rosie as us boys like to call him.”

Rosie gives a toothy smile and holds out his hand for a firm shake; “so nice to meet you, Mrs. Crosby. Croz here has told me all about you.”

Giving your husband a raised eyebrow, you ask “all good things I hope?”

Both men chuckle. “Only the best, ma’am.”

The three of you settled into your rooms before deciding that a celebration was in order. Rosie commandeered the evening, promising only the best jazz New York had to offer. Drinks flowed, the band jived, and couples danced the night away.

Night after night, Rosie took you somewhere new. You’d split your time whirling the dancefloor between both your husband and his pilot friend, never satisfied until your feet ached. Harry claimed all the slow dances, nestled up close to your body. But Rosie? He got the fast-paced, jumping, hip swaying swing that Crosby claimed he couldn’t keep up with. Two left feet, he’d claim. Each morning after you slept in the plush, luxurious Ritz bed until lunchtime while they attended to their military duties.

Friday rolled around. It had been a week of this routine. You should’ve been exhausted, you should’ve wanted to slow down - after all you were no spring chicken anymore. Yet, something about being in the arms of your husband and Rosie as you swayed to Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman, and Glen Miller felt so right.

When the barkeep yelled for “last call” you knew it was time to retire for the evening.

“Say, why don’t you come have a nightcap in our room, Rosie? Crosby asked.

The three of you settle into the living room of the suite assigned to you and your husband. Bing plops into an armchair with a satisfied huff. You join Rosenthal on the loveseat, a respectable distance inbetween. A bottle of whisky sits open on the fireplace mantle. Conversation comes and goes as the trio fall from the high of the night. It’s easy. Almost makes the boys forget the horrors they endured in Europe.

Around 1am the conversation begins to lull as you finish regaling the group with a story of the shenanigans you and your girlfriends would get up to during university days. “-You think you boys were bad flying all around in your skivvies, but it was nothing compared to us girls that night!” Laughter filled the room until all had let it trickle to a close; the silence was warm like the fireplace embers. Robert sat enraptured by your story, by your beauty, by the thought of you under that blue dress and all your curves. He knew he shouldn’t have noticed…..he was just a man after all. And with the things he’d seen? Could you really blame him?

“How long’s it been Rosie?” The question broke the man’s gaze from you and directed it towards Crosby. He didn’t know it was so obvious.

Rosie was about to stumble out an answer, an apology for looking at you like that, he doesn’t know, when Croz interrupts again. “When’s the last time you felt the touch of a good woman, Rosie?” Harry waits for an answer. Rosenthal can feel his face heat; he runs his fingers through his hair mussing the curls out of place. This confident Crosby was much bolder than the one he’d met when he first shipped out to the 100th. “Before the war?” There is no judgment in his eyes, no disdain or hesitation towards his comrade as he asks. Rosie shakes his head in affirmation. His glass clinks against the table as he sets it down, whisky unfinished.

Crosby sighs. “Too long.”

“Too damn long…” Rosie agrees in a mumble.

You sit and watch the boys in rapt attention before meeting Bing's chocolatey eyes. Rosenthal is a good man, a great one from what your husband’s letters proved, and he deserves kindness and softness after all he’s been through. They both do. A delicate hand moves to rest on Rosie’s knee where he sits next to you. His brow furrows. The Major flits his gaze between you and your husband.

In all seriousness Crosby says “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” He tilts his head forward in permission, a silent go ahead.

The navigator noticed how Rosie looked at you all night, how you returned the glances like a game of chicken. Each admiring but neither willing to do anything about it. How the two of you danced around the club without a care in the world at his insistence. He hadn’t seen Rosie smile like that in ages. He knew you hadn’t laughed like that since before he announced he was heading to the front. You definitely were reveling in the attention of both men tonight. This was never something you had discussed with your husband; somehow you just knew each other well enough even after so long apart to know that it was okay. It was something you both wanted.

Your fingers drifted higher on Rosie’s thigh; not enough to be indecent, but enough to get the message across. His larger palm came to rest atop yours, stopping the movement. “You uh- you’re okay with this?” the Brooklyn native questioned.

Without hesitation you reassure “I am.”

In a measured, almost odd approach Rosenthal shifts towards you. His lips hover over your cheek for a moment before the softest kiss brushes your skin. The whiskers of his mustache tickle. You can’t help the grin that threatens to break. He continues to kiss along your cheek, once, twice, thrice, each getting closer to your waiting lips. Finally, his chapped lips meet yours. This kiss is awkward at first as he gathers his bearing, quickly finding a rhythm as if no time had passed since he last kissed a pretty dame.

Crosby sunk deeper into his chair as he watched. He could feel the tell-tale sign of his slacks becoming tighter as he watched his best girl and his best friend. “She loves it when you kiss her neck,” he instructed with that smirk of his. Rosie dragged his lips to your throat. “Little lower-” again he shifted “-right there.” A moan slipped from your parted lips as your body warred with the directions from your husband and the attentions from your lover.

The room felt stifling. Rosie’s coat, your dress, his shirt, your stockings, his trousers, your brassiere - each fluttered off to the floor one by one. Even Bing had lost his button down.

The Major guided you onto your back along the couch, trailing open mouthed kisses down your sternum, along your breasts. A moment of clarity passed your mind that your body was different now than the last time you had been made love to, whether by your husband or not, since the baby. Your breasts weren't as pert, your stomach was softer than it used to be. Lips pursed, you let out a small sigh.

“What’s wrong darlin’?” Bing asked. The navigator leaned towards you, brushing a strand of fallen hair from your face. “You know I can read you better than any map.” Rosie stopped and rested his chin on your abdomen to look up.

“We can stop,” Rosie offered.

“No, It’s silly…” you tried to brush off.

Both men came to your defense immediately. Looking between the two you finally settle on your husband’s face. “It’s just that… since the last time we saw each other I’m different. My body changed and- I don’t know. I want it to be enough for you. For you both,” you add with a look to Rosie.

Crosby drops from the chair to his knees before you. “My pretty girl.” He kisses you slowly. “We’ve all changed.” From below Rosie adds nothing is the same. “You are still the most beautiful, most incredible, woman I’ve ever seen. Gosh - you’re my wife. Mrs. Crosby! I would fight to the ends of the earth to come home to you.” Softer he adds “I did fight to come home to you… and to bring this flak-happy bastard along too,” he laughed, nudging his elbow at his mate. “Now be a good girl and let us treat you right.” At your nod Rosie resumes his ascent down your waiting body.

With a flourish your panties are gone, your dripping center exposed to his hungry stare. “What does she like, Croz? Because I'm not stopping until she comes begging all over my tongue.” He licks a deep stripe along your slit. “Sweet as sugar, babydoll.” Gone is the man unsure of himself, and in place is a god amongst men who knows exactly what he wants. It’s all you can do to hold on as Rosie devours you at your husband’s suggestions. Fingers dig into the cushions, tangle into his curls as you writhe under him.

Rosie puts in his best effort to undo you; your husband saunters up to your face, his pants long forgotten. Cock stiff and ready, dripping with need, he runs the tip of his thumb against your bottom lip. Your teeth nibble at the pad. “Think you can take me too, darlin’?” A whimpered please is all that comes out.

A cacophony of moans fills the air as your senses are assaulted - Rosie latched to your pussy like a lifeline and your Crosby’s cock deep inside your mouth. “That’s it darlin’, just like that. I bet you missed me, huh? I can tell you did, sweet girl. Fuck I missed you….”

You gave him everything you had as you licked and sucked at his length. You could have sworn it was bigger than you remembered. He could tell by the look in your eyes you were getting closer, hell he was too. Lord knew he didn’t want to finish like some schoolboy in your lovely mouth. Crosby pulled himself out and you gasped for air. Cheeks flushed and sweat dripping down your temple he turned to his partner. “Use your fingers Rose, drives her wild when you crook them up inside her ‘n don't be afraid to get rough - give her a nip.” He punctuated the end of his command with a nip of his own to your throat. Rosie did exactly as instructed, sending you careening further to the edge and hips bucking.

“Oh- please Rosie- oh god don’t stop-” tumbles out as you start to fall. You swear you feel him humming against your clit as his fingers burn pleasure into your skin.

“That’s it darlin’, just let go for him. Being such a good girl for us,” croons your Bing.

When it all gets too much you gently push him from you. He goes gracefully, dropping chaste kisses to your thighs and hips. Despite feeling like a bowl of jello you remember your purpose tonight - to give Rosie a proper homecoming.

Sitting up you demand he rid himself of his trousers.

He grins. “Yes ma’am.”

Just as Rosie goes to cover your body again you place your hand on his broad chest, pushing until he is in a sitting position. You quickly seat yourself over his lap, his length resting against you. Grinding down, he grunts. “Let me take care of you Rosie, it’s okay.” Kissing his temple, the corner of his mouth, his Adam's apple, you repeat “I want to take care of you dear, let me.”

With another roll of your hips he enters you. He feels different than your husband, but no less wonderful. Rosie’s hands land firmly on your hips as you rock above him. He knows he won't last long, you feel too good. “God Croz how do you do it? She’s so- ugh fuck” he grunts, head tossed back as you squeeze his length.

“I know, Rose, I know. Just like heaven.” Your husband rubs your back as you move.

Rosenthal buries his face in the crook of your neck, his whimpers muffled so that only you can hear. There are no words for him to describe this feeling: the feeling of being comforted, the feeling of warmth, the feeling of home inside you, even if just for tonight. He almost feels a tear spring to his eyes. Circling your arms around his shoulders you remind him that you’ve got him, that he’s safe, that you're here. You pick up the pace as you ride him, bringing him closer and closer to his fate. His pelvis bucks up to meet yours with every roll.

“Honey I- I’m getting real close.”

You seal your lips on his; “I’ve got you, Rosie. I want you to come for me dear.”

With a deep groan he lifts you off his cock, his spend covering your stomachs and lap in a sticky mess. You hold him as he comes down from his high.

“That was wonderful, thank you…just, thank you.” You kiss him once more; he knows he doesn’t have to thank you for anything, but he does because he’s Rosie. He carefully cleans you of his come with his discarded undershirt.

Crosby drops his lips to the crown of your head, beginning to pull the pins out of your carefully styled hair. “Come here, Darlin’.” He helps to lift you from his colleagues’ lap. “I wanna make love to my wife.”

In seconds you’re on the floor under Crosby, his cock already buried to the hilt within you. Neither of you move as you both enjoy the feel of each other reunited as husband and wife. Whispered streams of I love you and I missed you and fuck you feel so good tumble from your lips, barely an inch apart. Harry would never need a map to know the curves, the sensitive spots, the constellations of beauty marks on your body - he knew it better in his memory than any map he could chart.

Besides you on the couch Rosie has slumped over to lay down, his arm hanging off towards you. Every breath of your husband’s puffs against your neck, every tickle of hair from across his chest reminds you that he’s here and he’s alive and he’s yours. Emotion overwhelmed you; “Bing, love please, I need you.”

Crosby hitches your thigh up and around his hip; “I’m here Darlin’.” With that he starts to thrust within your walls. His lithe body moves with a power you had nearly forgotten. Each roll of his hips he pounds into you harder, faster, with abandon; his dog tags cool against your breasts where they hung. Harry was a gentle man, but held so much emotion inside. He could let go with you.

Your next orgasm was building, hotter and faster than the first. Nails raking down your husband’s back, you reached out your other to grab hold of Rosie’s outstretched palm. The slap of skin echoed around the room, mixed with the crackle of the fire and the sound of heaving breaths.

An inferno raged within you. Every touch, every movement atop you sent sparks down every nerve ending. You didn’t know where you stopped and your husband began. “Fuck Bing mmmm- Harry please-” The rug beneath you rubbed your back raw but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as long as he kept going.

Crosby had his thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit in an instant. “Tell me you’re close, I need you to come Darlin’.” You couldn’t catch your breath so you nodded the best you could while squeezing the life out of Rosie’s fingers.

Another snap of his hips and you’re gone, obliterated. Everything felt euphoric and white-hot. Crosby follows suit, his release filling you and your name on his tongue. Bruises will surely linger on your thighs.

There you lay, tangled in the afterglow, your loving husband above you stroking his knuckles against your side and your new lover’s hand in yours. No words needed to be spoken. The moment you shared would be seared into your mind forever playing on repeat. God forbid another crisis happened that would ship your boys out and away from you - yet if it did you would hold on to tonight like a talisman. It had been a long four years, and longer so for them. But the war was won, with spoils a plenty.

Finally.

Lips meeting your Bing’s sweat-slicked forehead, your grip on Rosenthal tightens. “Welcome home my boys, welcome home.”

Tags: @sagesolsticewrites @winniemaywebber @sailorscuttle @thirstyvampyr @hellfirequinnie @lorna-d-m

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fanfic #robert rosie rosenthal #harry crosby #harry crosby x reader wife x rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal smut #harry crosby smut #masters of the air smut #anthony boyle #nate mann #anthony boyle smut #nate mann smut #scuttle-buttle

151 notes · View notes