Geez, I Want A Jealous Tom Kazansky Rn Please.

Geez, I want a jealous Tom Kazansky rn please.

Wrong Answer, Sweetheart

This man? Jealous? Possessive? Wherever did you get that idea? @juniebugg and @redpandabel this is for you.

Pairing: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x F!Reader Word Count: 3600 Warnings: Smut, possessive behavior, jealousy, dirty talk Minors DNI

The O Club is full to bursting by the time you arrive. Which is to be expected on a Friday. Officers and civvies mingling with drinks in hand.

Ice had called you earlier, the patter of a shower in the background as he told you that he and the guys were headed over to grab a drink once they were done in the locker room. He asked you to meet him there. The thing the two of you have going on is still relatively new, so you were quick to agree, your finger twirling in the phone cable at the thought of Ice leaning over the phone in little more than a towel. You wrapped up your work for the day, drove home for a change of clothes, and then walked over to the club, fully expecting to be going home with Ice at the end of the night.

You spot him — well, more accurately, you spot Slider (the man's too damn tall) — in the corner of the bar near the pool table, surrounded by the rest of his class, and push your way through the crowd. When you reach the group, you brush your hand over Ice's arm, sidling up to him and meeting his eyes through your long lashes. "Hey."

And for a heart-stopping moment, he fixes you with a smile-

"Well, look who it is," Wolfman drawls, Hollywood whistling as you settle against Ice's side.

"Lookin' mighty fine today, Mrs. Ice," Hollywood says with a wink, and you chuckle at the harmless flirtation. They all know you're off-limits, but Ice's hand tightens around your waist all the same, and he shoots Hollywood a glare while he takes a sip of his beer.

Wolfman isn't deterred. " Mighty fine. " If anything, Ice's annoyance spurs him on. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have a sister, would you?"

"She'd be out of your league, too, Wolf," Slider says, earning a satisfied snort from Ice and howls from the rest of the pilots. After that, the conversation drifts back to where it had derailed when you first joined.

Eventually, you decide that you need a drink. You try to bring Ice with you, but he's busy detailing all the reasons why what Chipper said is categorically wrong. He gently shakes your hand from his and leaves you to wander to the bar on your own.

Your lips press into a tight line. You open your mouth to say something — why invite me along for a drink if you aren't going to spend time with me? — but stop short. That won't get you anywhere, not in front of his colleagues.

You stomp your way through the crowd until you're pressed against the smooth, lacquered wood of the bar and settle in for the long wait until the bartender can take your order. You're drawing figure eights in the condensation left behind by someone's glass when someone shoves themself into the bar beside you

"Hey!" A smile parts your lips. Mav. You pull the pilot into a hug. "When did you get here?" Mav is easy to talk with, and the two of you fall into an easy conversation. He asks you about your job, smiling even though you know he must be bored out of his mind while you go on about your spreadsheets.

It doesn't take long for the conversation to turn flirty, as things with Mav tend to do. He brushes imaginary dust off your shoulder, places a hand against the small of your back to steady you when some rowdy patrons knock you off balance, leans in close so he can hear you over the music and other conversations. You know that he doesn't mean anything by it. Not with you. It's just who he is — all dare and charm and green eyes.

Every so often, your attention flickers over to Ice, but he's still deep in conversation.

When the bartender finally makes it over to you, you ask him for a beer — whatever's on tap — and Mav leans in to add his and Goose's next round on top of it. "Put it on my tab."

Mouth open in mock surprise, you turn to face the pilot. "Are you buying me a drink, Mav?"

"Someone's got to," he says, eyebrow raised as he chances his own look toward Ice.

"Pretty bold of you."

"I'm told some women like bold."

"Some?" Mav looks down and to the side at your question as if he's embarrassed. And that's something you weren't expecting. You wonder who the lucky lady is. "Is the notorious Maverick having girl troubles?" His eyes meet yours, and you know that you're right. As the bartender returns with your drinks, you bite your bottom lip to hold in a guffaw. "Oh c'mon, Mav. A pretty boy like you?"

A hand slams on the bar between you and Maverick no later than those words leave your lips. You jump, eyes blown wide in surprise.

"Money for the lady's drink."

"Hey, Ice." Mav stumbles back against the bar, a mischievous glint in his green eyes as Ice forcibly shoulders his way between you and the other pilot.

"Mitchell." He shoots Mav a look that could kill. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Thought that was pretty obvious," Mav says. "I was buying a pretty girl a drink." He has the audacity to wink at you, and Ice shoves himself further into his space.

"You better watch your mouth," Ice snaps.

A Cheshire grin takes over Maverick's face. "I've certainly got my eyes on someone's mouth."

Instead of responding, Ice reaches out and grabs your hand, still glaring at Maverick. "We're leaving."

"Don't be ridiculous," you say, slipping your hand from his as he'd done to you earlier. "We just got here."

"Yeah, Ice." And Mav knows precisely what he's doing with that mocking tone. Ice stands to his full height, looking down his nose at Maverick, who is more than a couple inches shorter than him with the way he's casually leaning against the bar. "Don't be ridiculous."

A hand grabs your arm around the bicep and leads — practically drags — you out of the bar. Mav gives you a half-hearted salute, all three drinks in his hands as he disappears into the crowd like the shit-stirring goblin he is.

Ice escorts you from the bar in record time. His face is an indecipherable mask as he brings you to the passenger side of his car, opens the door, and crowds forward until you have no choice but to sit in the leather seat. He towers over you. "What the hell was that?"

"Which part? You ditching me in a Navy bar, or you dragging me out of said bar?"

Light from the building plays across his jaw as it tenses, but that's the only tell that anything is wrong. Otherwise, his expression gives nothing away. "Why were you talking with Mitchell?" It's less a question than a demand for an answer.

You can't help but scoff. "You can't ditch your girl at a bar and then act surprised when someone gives her a little attention."

"You like that, huh? The attention of other guys."

And it stings. Hot and cold at the same time. Like frostbite. Two can play at that game. "Nothing wrong with a little variety," you bite back. It's a lie; normally, Ice would know that, but his eyes are still glacial when he steps back to close your door and hops into the driver's seat. He sits there for a handful of seconds, not looking at you. Not starting the car. So you make a split-second decision and place your hand on the door pull, popping it open.

"Where do you think you're going?" His eyes bore into the back of your head. It's enough to stop you in your tracks.

"For a drink."

"With Mitchell."

You glare back at him, exasperated. "Yeah. With Mav." You like that, huh? The attention of other guys. "Don't wait up. I'm sure he can give me a ride home."

Your eyes stay locked, neither of you blinking as the implication hangs heavy in the air.

"You're not going anywhere." You close the door as Ice starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot.

The ride to Ice's housing is silent. Ice eyes the road with a single-minded determination, his face an impassive mask, but his fists grip the steering wheel harder than necessary. You look resolutely out the passenger window as dark, sandy beaches turn into telephone poles, mailboxes, fences, and finally, Ice's driveway. Ice doesn't help you out of the car when you arrive, just unlocks the front door and expects you to follow.

You find him in the kitchen, sipping bourbon and pouring another two fingers' worth of the amber liquid into a rocks glass for you. But you turn the drink down when he tries to hand it to you. "I'm not thirsty."

"But you'll let Mitchell buy you a drink."

"At least he offered." You wanted him to buy you a drink, but he'd been too busy for you.

"That why you let him touch you?"

Your eyes roll. "Is that what this is about?"

"That is exactly what this is about." Ice throws your drink back in one go, leaving both glasses on the counter before crowding you against the wall. The glint behind blue eyes tells you you're in trouble. "You are mine ." Each word is bitten out, and you can't help how you react, head tilting back and lips parting in anticipation of a kiss that never comes. Instead, Ice leans in until his breath caresses your ear. "Or do you need a reminder?"

You'd love one. Instead, you say: "I don't belong to anybody ."

A deceptively soft kiss is pressed to the spot where your jaw meets the long line of your neck. "Wrong answer, sweetheart." One of Ice's hands grabs you by the back of the neck and pulls you into a bruising kiss, his tongue tasting of vanilla, oak, and caramel from the bourbon. You moan helplessly as his teeth catch your lower lip before he releases it in favor of sucking a deep mark over your pulse. One you won't be able to hide. One he'll be sure to parade you around in with his arm draped around your waist or hand tucked into your back pocket.

And a part of you likes the idea of that. Shouldn't , but does, and it sends a thrill through you.

"Get on your knees." Heat blossoms in your chest, mouth watering as your tongue runs over your lips to chase the hints of bourbon Ice has left behind. Placing your hands on Ice's chest, you scratch your nails down his front until your knees hit the kitchen tile. "You know what to do." You do. Your fingers trace the outline of him where he's already straining through his pants, but he stops that real quick.

His fingers catch your chin and angle your face up. "Don't tease." Then, while he still clutches your chin, you blindly reach for his belt, the metal clinking open before you pop the button and pull down his zipper. His other hand pulls his cock free and slaps it against your cheek before brushing it against your full lips. "Open up."

Your pink tongue pokes past your lips in invitation as Ice guides his cock into your mouth. His taste on your tongue never fails to pull a groan from you. Ice encourages you with a hiss. You lick around the fat tip before enthusiastically taking more of him into your hot mouth.

"That's it," he encourages as you get into a rhythm, bobbing up and down on his cock. You hollow your cheeks as you release the head with a pop to kiss and lick all along the shaft, lips dark and slick with spit as you take him into your mouth once again. "That's my girl." You moan around his cock in your mouth — my girl — the vibrations knocking Ice's head back, his hips jerking forward until you're gagging, eyes glassy with unshed tears. "Look so good chocking on my cock." The praise has you practically purring, and you pull off his cock for a quick breath before taking him as far down as you can, ignoring the tears as they track down your cheeks and swallow around him. You're rewarded with another sinful groan that goes straight to the heat between your legs.

A hand pulls you off of him, Ice's other hand coming down to fist at his cock, its glide slick. And he hasn't done this before, but you keep your mouth open, looking up at him through long lashes when his breath catches, and the first rope of his release bursts salty across your tongue. When he's done, he catches the cum that's missed your lips with his thumb and pushes it against your tongue, and you suck it down with the rest of him.

Ice is on you again as soon as you stand up, the crisscross of the kitchen tiles still freshly imprinted on your knees. Your back is once again pressed to the wall, one of your legs pulled up to circle his hip, blue eyes sharp as his hand slips beneath the waist of your jean shorts to find you soaking.

"Look at you," he murmurs, fingers gliding over your puffy lips. "Who's got you this wet, huh?" You huff and look away, and he sinks a finger into you to the knuckle. No resistance. "Eyes on me, sweetheart." And the endearment sounds vicious from his lips. You don't want to look, but you can't help it. He's magnetic.

You whimper and grind your swollen clit against his palm when he slips another finger into you, but Ice pulls back. His fingers return to running up and down the length of your heat — "Who?" — barely-there touches a far cry from what he knows you need.

"You know who," you say, swiveling your hips and pulling him closer to you with the leg wrapped around his hip and down his leg. His fingers start up again, and you let out a breathy chuckle, thinking you've won.

Ice's fingers skillfully build you up higher and higher until: "Yeah, but I want to hear you say it." You clench desperately around nothing when his fingers withdraw. Your high receding like the tide until it has well and truly slipped through your fingers and all you can do is whine. Once he's sure you're not going to cum, his fingers press back into you, massaging at your g-spot, and you arch into him, keening. "Who?"

"Fuck, Ice. You. "

"That's not my name."

Another frustrated groan tumbles from your lips as his fingers leave your core to ruck your shirt up beneath your arms, pulling down the cups of your bra until your breasts pop out. He attacks a nipple with lips and teeth and tongue. "You, Tom. You, you, you ."

He pulls off of you when you arch into his mouth. "That wasn't so hard, now, was it?" His lips ghost up your neck with a final lick to your peaked nipple, drawing goosebumps in their wake. "What do you want me to do about it?" he whispers directly into your ear, tugging at the lobe with his teeth. His hips rock against yours, pressing hot and hard against your clothed clit, fingers skimming along the waist of your shorts, and you whimper. Ready for round two.

"Touch me. Please."

Ice releases your leg, hooks his fingers in your belt loops, and drags you away from the wall. Then, faster than you can keep up with while your mind is swimming, he bends you over the kitchen table. Talented fingers reach around to unbutton your shorts and pull them down your long legs. You peek at him over your shoulder, shivering at the chill of fresh air against your slick folds. Ice's hands are back on you, but they aren't touching you where you need him to, fingers skirting around your slick heat to tease your upper thighs. You groan.

"What? You said to touch you."

"That the best you got, Ice?" You yelp, back arching when Ice's palm connects with your asscheek, its sting blazing and blurring into pleasure.

"I'm just getting started."

His fingers delve back into your heat and yours grip the edge of the table, eyes falling shut as you press your cheek against the polished wood, and you moan.

When you open your eyes again, you have a clear line of sight to the window at the front of the assignment. The glass is blocked by a near-translucent sheet — calling it a curtain would probably be too generous. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip to fend off a groan as Ice's fingers disappear from you, the sound of his zipper soon following. "We should probably take this upstairs," you suggest, neck craning as your eyes lock with his over your shoulder.

Ice runs the thick head of his cock over your cunt, leans over you, and his fingers are back on your jaw. He redirects your gaze to the window, the fabric billowing in the gentle night breeze. "Thought you liked the attention," he hisses into your ear, and then he's sinking into you in a single thrust.

He doesn't give you time to adjust to him, just picks up a slow tempo — dragging his hips back until you're squeezing around nothing and filling you back up until your walls are fluttering around him and your cheeks are flushed. "We just started," he murmurs, "and you're already close, aren't you?"

You want to say something clever about how he's brought you the edge a couple times now, but he fucks the words out of you, chuckling as you make a strangled noise.

"Bet Mitchell couldn't fuck you like this, huh?"

And you know it's supposed to be rhetorical, but you can't help yourself. "Bet he'd think of something," you pant. "He's creative like that."

"Pretty boy wouldn't know what to do with a girl like you."

"You spend a lot of time thinking about Mav fucking me?"

Ice presses your cheek back into the table, his hand resting between your shoulder blades so that your ass sticks up in the air. "Shut up." His pace picks up with the steady clap of skin on skin and the creak of the table against the tile floor. And the spring in your abdomen coils so tight that if he keeps fucking you like that, you'll reach nirvana in no time.

"You're mine, " he all but growls, biting at the junction of your neck and shoulder and sucking. "Mine to treat. Mine to touch. Mine to fuck whenever and wherever —" his hand fists in your hair, pulling until you're staring straight out the window to the deserted road "—I want." Your body spasms, walls fluttering around his cock before it disappears, and you could scream , but all that comes out is a whimper. "And you'll cum when I let you."

"You fucking dick," you seethe.

"You love my fucking dick." He thrusts back into you, pulling out again when you roll back to meet him halfway. "Don't you?" You throw your head back and keen when he bottoms out in you again, grinding that perfect cock against your sweet spot and making you see stars. "Tell me."

"I fucking love your cock."

"Yeah, you do." Ice rewards you with another hard thrust. "Whose pussy is this?"

"Yours." You clench down around him, unable to help the roll of your hips against his. "All yours. Only yours."

"You sure, princess? Sounded like you didn't need me earlier," he says, and it's smug now. Mocking. "Sure you don't want me to call Mitchell to finish you off?"

"He couldn't handle me," you whine. "Couldn't treat me good like you do. Pretty boy couldn't — fuck!" You're babbling now, Ice's pace picking up to fuck you stupid, but you don't care that the neighbors can hear you as long as Ice keeps fucking you like that. As long as he keeps hitting that spot and his balls keep slapping your clit, keeps kissing your neck, keeps grunting in your ear.

"Couldn't what, sweetheart?" His hands pull your hips back to meet his.

"Couldn't give me what I need. Not like you can. Fuck! Not like you. Never like you."

You're so close that it hurts. "Please," you sob, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. "Please, Tom. Please let me cum. Please, please, please. I'm yours. All yours. Please."

"Don't worry, baby," he croons. "I've got you."

And then you're dissolving into pleasure, melting into the wood grain of the table as Ice continues to chase his own end. He pulls out when his hips stutter, hand on his cock, cumming all over your pussy, thick strands of white dripping down your thighs.

His.

Instead of letting you up, Ice leans back over you, taking his time to suck more marks into the unblemished canvas of your shoulders, neck, jaw.

“Ice,” you whine, your earlier passion replaced with heart-swelling annoyance. “You can’t do this every time someone talks to me at the bar.”

Ice smiles against your skin, calloused hands running a path down your body until they reach your soiled thighs and give you a mischievous squeeze. “Guess you’ll just have to be more careful.”

You guffaw. “Of what? Talking with people?”

“You’re mine, and I don’t share,” he hums, nuzzling his agreement into the crook of your neck. “ Especially not with Mitchell.”

Want you to stay part two

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Kazansky!f!reader

Summary: It's time to get the team back together as it had been before and this evening has a lot of surprises in store for Rooster. Part one.

Warnings: None

Taglist: @alanadetigy @lilylilyyyyyy @luckyladycreator2

Flashback

Synchronization. A perfect synchronization between the raindrops rolling on the living room window with those rolling on her cheeks. Sitting on the sofa facing the window, one leg folded under herself, the other knee brought against her chest she began to stare at the driveway in front of her house in which her car was parked. She didn't realize that it had started to rain or even that she had started crying, which of the two things had happened first? Were they triggered at the same time? A sound of old engine was heard and she jumped up, ignoring the tingling that had arisen in her numb leg. She stood in front of the window, the immense hope that had been born in her evaporating suddenly and her heart squeezing when she saw that it was only the neighbor's car. She had been waiting for several days, that as usual he would come back after her, coming to park his old bronco behind her car. Which wouldn't happen again. The ringing of her cell phone sounded, pulling out her from her thoughts, she threw herself on it on the coffee table and another ounce of disappointment shook her heart when she saw "James" displayed on the screen. She tried to suppress the sobs in her voice that would have betrayed her.

"I wondered if you were going to forget your daily call. You can tell them I'm still alive."

A sigh was heard at the end of the line.

"Don't take it in that tone. You know they're just worried about you, and so am I."

"There's nothing to worry about J, everything is fine, I'm fine."

"Mau.. You know you can tell me anything."

"There's nothing to say James. Tell the parents that I'm fine, it's nothing. It's part of life, no matter how unpleasant, and you should know it better than anyone." She tried to joke by mocking her younger brother who was more used to failures in love than successes.

After a brief silence, a weak "Um." of his brother was heard, in response to his mother who was to be hanged on the phone next to him and who wanted to transmit a message through her son. He resumed in a voice that Maureen recognized, almost embarrassed, who despite her mother's request already knew her sister's answer without having to ask her.

"You know, I'd like to see my sister again, you know.. Wednesday evenings."

A slight smile stretched the girl's lips, she imagined very well her brother scratching the back of his head, this gesture always accompanying his embarrassed tone, because he suspected her answer but just wanted to please his mother. Her gaze landed on the calendar hanging on the side of the fridge and she realized that today was Wednesday, Wednesday had always been the games and pizza evening at the Kazanskys' house. She was pretty sure that this phone call and request had been premeditated by her parents. A silence of a few seconds was created between the siblings. Maureen couldn't deny that for some time she had been isolated and distanced from her parents, who were only trying to help her.

"I'll be there for 7 p.m.", she finally announced, hearing her mother's relief next to her brother.

Present day.

"It's a surprise." Rooster resumed a little stunned.

"That's what we can say yes." This was absolutely not the case for her, having learned the day before that he had returned and therefore perfectly expecting to see him. Even if she would have liked to avoid it.

A throat clearing broke the silence that had formed around them and Natasha put her arm under her friend's, making them turn their heels and change the subject.

"Alright, so how about an evening at the Hard Deck, like in the good old days?"

Phoenix grimaced when Jake gave her a slight blow in the ribs, making her big eyes considering that the pilot had just gaffered. The good old days, the parties she always shared with them, because she went there with Rooster. Natasha bit the inside of her lip realizing that she may have blundered well, and they all watched for their friend's reaction. She just smiled, if she wanted to spend time with them she would have to put up with Bradley's presence, to her greatest despair.

"Count on that." She replied with a frank smile that was meant to be reassuring for them.

In the evening Maureen went to this famous bar that had seen the birth of so many moments of complicity, laughter, anguish. When she pushed open the door, she was greeted by a female voice expressing her joy at seeing her again.

"Maureen! What a pleasure to see you again." The young woman approached the bar and over the counter Penny bent down to take her in her arms. "I knew you had come back to California but I didn't expect to see you walk through the doors of this bar." She confessed to her, glancing over the shoulder of the young woman who followed her gaze to fall on Rooster in the background who was chatting with Bob and Phoenix. Maureen turned back to the barmaid with a pinched smile.

"I'm a rock. Nothing can reach me." She winked at her before taking the pint Penny had just put on the bar, accompanied by a "Welcome back.". You bet that nothing could reach her, she could try to convince others, but it would never work on herself. She had become a rag after Bradley Bradshaw  broke her heart, and to be honest she would have preferred to erase what she had been at that time from her memory. Maureen made her way through the crowd to join the team, she was greeted and cheered by Coyote who put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple and Jake who handed her the pool tail.

"No fear I'll beat you Bagman?"

The blonde addressed her his legendary smile accompanied by his real pain look.

"As far as you're concerned, that nickname goes to someone else tonight." He joked as everyone broke down and held their breaths at what Jake had just said. He hadn’t wanted to revive painful memories, took in the mood and the teasing spirit he had just wanted to mocke his friend. Maureen found herself with her mouth open not knowing what to say, caught off guard. Nevertheless, not in the slightest hurt by Jake's words she began to laugh and took the tail that Jake was holding out to her.

"You score a point."

All relaxed but remained surprised by their friend's reaction. Maureen thought it was adorable that they tried to spare her, but she had managed to move on. And showing it would relax the atmosphere. A general mocking "Oooh" on their part was heard mocking Rooster who nodded his head, embarrassed and perhaps even a little offended. After shooting, the young woman passed the tail to Reuben with whom she was playing against Javy and Jake. She took her beer drinking a sip, glancing at Rooster over her glass, and her heart missed a beat when she saw that he was watching her. She then looked away to report it to the game. She easily managed to turn her attention to something other than Bradley during the evening, who had stayed away from her, as if he was keeping a safe distance from her. Nevertheless, when it was her turn to play again, she leaned over the pool table to shoot and while he had stayed away until then, she felt Rooster pass right by her and position himself behind her to address Reuben who was also standing behind her back waiting for him to play. While she thought she was safe from relapse, she remembered different times when Bradley had stood right behind her when they were playing pool. His hands always finding their way on her hips, in her lower back, and once in particular, when while she had bent down, that day wearing a light dress, had taken advantage of his colleagues being distracted by something else to bend over her, and slide his hand over her thigh, gently raising the hem of her dress on her thigh whispered in her ear how much effect she was making on him in this position and dress. At this memory she lost concentration and when she shot, missed her target, which provoked the cries of jubilation of the opposing duo and the manifestation of disappointment of her teammate to whom she apologized with a sorry pout.

She straightened up and met Bradley's gaze as he plunged his eyes into her own with an indecipherable neutral expression. He wore this expression during the hour that followed, Maureen feeling the insistent look of her ex on her no matter what she was doing or where she stood. Was he trying to make her understand something?

As she was about to go to him to ask him why he was staring at her so much, a rather noisy group of men rushed into the bar, one of them looking for someone over the crowd. A smile stretched his lips and he slapped the arm of one of the men who accompanied him before heading to the small group around the billiards. The man who had been next to him turned his head towards him feeling the slap on his arm and followed in his footsteps followed by their comrades.

Javy who was leaning on the pool table, Jake sowing him not to miss his shot, straightened up when he saw the group coming, Jake doing the same then followed by the rest of the team. They were surprised to see Maureen leave them to meet the group of guys and happily welcome the kiss of the man who was obviously looking for her a few seconds before.

"Who's that?" Rooster suddenly asked  as he got up from his stool, his beer in hand, the other in his pocket. Natasha stood next to him and gave him a"Seriously?" meaning look.

"Um, don't forget that you’re the one who dumped her Rooster." Bob stammered and quickly looked away when the brown suddenly turned his head towards him.

"What are you doing there?" She asked the man who put her arm around her waist.

"Well you told me you were coming here with your pilot friends. I was with the guys and we thought the real navy men were going to come and show them what they looked like." He sneered. Maureen greeted the man's friends before turning to hers. Jake raised an eyebrow and glanced at Javy, and Mickey and Reuben imitated them. The real men of the Navy?

"An introduction is necessary I think. Oliver, this is Robert, Natasha, Mickey, Reuben, Jake, Javy and Bradley. Bob, Phoenix, Fanboy, Payback, Hangman, Coyote and Rooster, pilots. Guys, this is Oliver, Charlie, Warren, Jarod and Lloyd, SEALs." Oliver's gaze hooked Rooster's and hardened before resting his eyes on Maureen with his tender look. She was against him, his arm around her waist, Maureen's hand resting on his shoulder making shine in the light of the bar the origin of Rooster's behavior.

"Oliver is my fiancé." She admitted.

A fairly positive general reaction animated the pilots.

"I wasn't really sure if it was that since you hadn't talked about it yet but the ring spoke for itself." Phoenix sneered before coming to take her friend in her arms to congratulate her.

"Personally, I hadn't even paid attention to it, congrats Kazansky." Hangman said with a smile on the corner of his lips as he raised his beer.

All congratulated her except Rooster who had remained in the background and had difficulty welcoming the news. It was for this reason that he had had the look so insistent for a good part of the evening. As if he had tried to make her understand by his gaze, that he had understood by seeing the ring, and that it bothered him. But he had lost the right to say anything a long time ago. Phoenix gave him a discreet elbow in the ribs to tell him to react before it was badly perceived.

"Congratulations to both of you." He finally let go before finishing the end of his beer with a dry stroke.

"Would you be up for a friendly pool competition then?" Oliver said happily.

"Deal. But don’t believe that it’s because you are going to marry our friend that we will spare you." Jake said before handing Oliver a tail. The pilots placed on one side of the billiards, the SEALs on the other.

Maureen smiled amused and then turned on her heels, making her way to the bar into the crowd to order a new round for everyone. She was stopped on the way by a hand on her arm that made her turn around. She found herself face to face with Rooster who wore a look that was both cold and painful.

"What is -"

"Are you really going to get married?" He cut her dryly. She widened her eyes, surprised by his gall.

"Yes Bradley I'm going to get married. Does it bother you? Too bad, maybe you should have thought about it before dumping me when you left for the other side of the world." She replied in a scathing tone, releasing her arm from his grip. "I find you have gall, I remind you that if we are there it’s by your fault, you are the last person to have something to say about it." He opened his mouth to get ready to say something when she immediately resumed. "And you want me to tell you, it's even planned for very soon, his friends all came especially from Virginia for his bachelor party. My parents are delighted, his too, Mav is delighted, our friends as well and just as much as us."

"Mav knows?" He said puzzled, surprised that he hadn't tried to talk to him about it.

"Obviously he is, you birdbrained, he is my uncle as much as he was yours and if you hadn’t turned your heels while he sought to respect the will of your mother, you would know."

"Wait, what?" He shook his head surprised by so much information.

"Move on Bradley, as you forced me to do it."

On this words she turned her heels leaving him alone in the middle of the crowd stunned by these revelations.

Found out that I now need more Iceman/Cyclone/Wolfman/Slider/Hollywood/Hangman daddy/sugar daddy kink and jealous make out in my life.

Dilemma

Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x f!pilot!reader (Callsign: Poppy) secret relationship + no use of Y/N.

Summary: Reader finds out she has been dismissed from the mission and is gonna confront the Vice Admiral about his decision.

Warnings: mentions of death through threats, swearing, bad writing, grammatical mistakes, sorry English isn't my first language.

Be indulgent please it's my first one putting the reader in a pilot seat, I'm more into the usual fluffy stories 🫣.

To say she was angry was an understatement, she could have knocked heads without batting an eyelid because she was so seething with rage. Strolling down the hallways towards the source of her problem she didn't even pay attention to Payback and Fanboy who called out to her as she passed by them. Making them raise their eyebrows and follow her lead as she walked towards the break room in which she entered opening the door abruptly, she quickly found the reason for her anger, sitting on the arm of one of the sofas, his smug smile still pinned on his face that she dreamed of hitting.

"You! Hangman piece of shit! "

The man turned his head towards her before straightening up and his smile widened as he guessed why she would have killed him if she could.

"Poppy my dear, you've never been better named than you are right now by the color of your face." He chuckled as she approached dangerously, determined this time to slap him in the face no matter what she risked next.

"You deserve to roast in hell!” A group of pilots formed around them intrigued by what was happening, as she was about to jump at his face, two arms encircled her waist to prevent her from going through with her gesture.  "Rooster let go of me! I'll take that stupid smile off your face and you'll see. Rooster, let me go!"

Jake looked at her with a proud look on his face without batting an eyelid as Bradley tried to restrain his friend.

"Leave him he's not worth it."

"What's going on?" Phoenix finally interjected as lost and stunned as the others.

"Maverick just grounded me on orders from Simpson, who was reportedly told that I didn't feel I had the shoulders for this mission, which was too much pressure for me. You're so afraid of getting passed over that you manage to sink whoever you can. You tried to undermine Bradley's confidence in his own abilities because he's your biggest competitor and now you're taking it out on me? Wouldn't it be you Seresin who doubt your abilities to the point of resorting to such low acts to oust the competition?"

Maybe he was hiding behind his smile or he was unaware of the lack of morality of what he was doing but Jake didn't bat an eye, still wearing his smirk.

"They made a mistake on the selection, it was about recalling the best. But maybe some of them couldn't make themselves available. So they had to plug the holes." Jake said.

"That's so low of you, yet not surprising." Interjected Bob who had placed himself next to her.

"It doesn't matter who will be chosen for this mission Jake, we are all on the same team. But maybe you don't really grasp the meaning of what that means?"

Not wanting to hear what he might have to say, if he had anything to say, she turned and walked out of the room to Vice Admiral Simpson's office. Once in front of the door she took a deep breath before knocking twice on it and entering when he gave permission.

When she entered the room, Cyclone was sitting at his desk, Warlock sitting opposite him, she stood by the door, straight as an i, hands behind her back, both men facing her.

"Lieutenant Caldwell." He sank into his seat with his elbows on the armrests, his hands folded in front of him. "To what do I owe your presence in my office?"

"I would like to speak with you about your recent decision about me sir."

A silence followed.

"We'll pick this up later." He finally said to Rear Admiral Bates who nodded and gathered his documents before getting up and leaving the office, nodding to Poppy who greeted him with a "Sir." Once the door was closed she walked towards the office.

"What the hell is this? You have no right to stop me from flying!"

"I have every right, in this case I'm not stopping you from flying, I'm removing you from this mission."

He straightened up in his seat, leaning slightly over his desk on which he crossed his hands.

"Are you aware that Hangman said all that just to get rid of me? Would you have called me back if you didn't think I could do it? Do you doubt my abilities?"

He passed his hands over his face while posted on the other side of the desk she leaned forward putting her hands flat on it.

"Of course not. But under the circumstances, under the method you are being taught, under the only way to complete this mission, there will be casualties." He paused, anchoring his gaze in hers. "And I won't risk losing you." She straightened up, gritting her teeth.

"Then it's personal."

"This is not the time to discuss this Molly."

"It's time if I decide to." She replied curtly, Beau's gaze turning stern. "You can't interfere with my career and ground me as soon as the danger is too great for your taste. It’s part of our job, if you constantly do that I will never fly again!"

"Molly that's enough, we'll discuss it tonight."

"Oh no, we're going to talk about this now. Put me back in."

"Molly..." He ran a hand over his face, his tone dragging.

"Beau, if you do this it’s over."

Her words had the effect of a bomb and he looked her straight in the eyes stunned by what she had just said.

"Your choice Beau, either accept the risk without something necessarily happening to me, or lose me."

A silence settled between the two of them, looking into each other's eyes and it seemed to last forever until he finally spoke again in a neutral tone.

"After careful consideration Lieutenant Caldwell, your abilities making you a suitable pilot for this mission, you are reintegrate in it."

She straightened up and her chest heaved as she took a deep relieved breath, she didn't realize she had been holding it until then.

"Thank you sir." She turned on her heels about to leave the office when he rose from his seat, slipping one hand into his pants pocket, the other touching the desk with his fingertips.

"I didn’t authorize you to dispose of Lieutenant." He spoke in a sharp tone.

With her hand on the doorknob she turned her head towards him, his downcast look had given way to a threatening one, knowing full well what was coming next her fingers slid from the door handle to the lock below and locked the door.

"Good." He commented on her gesture.

With a feline gait she returned to the office.

"You seem irritated."

"Why wouldn't I be? You show up into my office and discuss an order."

"Seriously Beau?" A frank laugh shook her chest. "I don't think I stormed in here like a fury and almost revealing our little secret. And as for discussing an order, it's within my rights to want to discuss a decision with my superior and express my point of view. You never would have made that decision if Hangman hadn't come in to screwed it up."

"Are you really going to blame me for wanting to protect you?"

"You can't protect me Beau, I blame you for letting the personal override the professional. We agreed this wouldn't happen! Do you know what it's like to be put on the spot for that reason?! No, you didn't think about that, did you? Maybe you were more focused on the possible loss of your toy, who would have sucked you under the desk on your lunch break otherwise?"

A dull growl escaped from his chest. "You're going too far, be careful."

"Or else what? Fire me, my career won't end there. Fire me, and what will Admiral Kazansky think of a Vice Admiral who sexually blackmailed one of his subordinates?"

His jaw clenched so hard he could have broken it in anger.

"You are going way too far Molly, stop this right now."

"It was you who started Beau, assume that for once you didn't take the right decision, even though the intention was laudable I admit, it was unprofessional." She paused and thought for a moment before going too far and regretting it. "It's up to you if you'd rather sleep on the couch tonight, if not it'll be me." She was about to turn her heels and leave once and for all of his office when in a flash he made the turn. Everything happened quickly, a hand sliding in her neck he drew against her to crush his lips on hers, pressing her against him with a hand in her lower back. Surprised but without any intention to push back him, she rolled up her arms around his nape and pressed her chest against his deepening this passionate kiss, one of those which follow the reconciliation of an argument. Taking off his lips of hers he put his forehead against hers.

"No one will sleep on the couch tonight."

Kinktober Day 2- Anal Sex

warnings: AFAB!reader, anal sex, mentions of anal toys, rimming, slight authority kink, mentions of unprotected sex

kinktober masterlist

main masterlist

Everyone knows that Jake Seresin is an ass man. He’s not subtle about it in the slightest. Every time someone with a nice ass walks by, you can guarantee his eyes are on it. Luckily for you, he has deemed your ass nice enough to fuck, and that’s just what he does.

He loves to bend you over so he can look at it while he fucks you. He gropes, grabs, and digs his nails into it like he just can’t get enough. Tonight, however, he wants something different.

“You want to fuck my ass?”

“That’s right.”

“Like… you want to do anal?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“As a heart attack, honey.”

He has you pinned against the kitchen counter, his knee slotted between your thighs to keep you trapped. You look up at him, the devious smirk on his handsome face filling you with equal parts desire and fear. Fear of how he’s going to break you this time.

“Think about it. No rush,” he says before backing away. You don’t need to think about it.

“I want to.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Right now.”

Jake grins and bites his lip. “Go get ready then, sweetness.”

You shower quickly, cleaning up and getting yourself ready for tonight’s activities. While you prepare, Jake sets out everything you need. Lube, condoms, a towel, and a plug from your little collection of toys just in case you want it.

When you come out of the bathroom, your skin is damp and you’re fresh faced, just how Jake likes you. He looks up at you from the bed and grins, and it widens when you drop your towel and make your way over to him.

“Well hello, gorgeous.”

“Hey, yourself.”

“All ready for me?” You nod. “Good.”

He helps you lay down on your stomach, legs hanging over the edge of the bed. Once you’re comfortable, he grabs ahold of your cheeks and spreads them apart, letting out a groan when he sees both of your holes.

He can’t stop himself from lowering his head and dragging his tongue through your wetness, up to your tight, puckered hole. You gasp at the unfamiliar sensation, which makes him chuckle.

It’s not that you’ve never had anything in there before. He occasionally puts a finger or two in during sex, and you’ve used small toys, but you’ve never gone all the way. Jake’s delighted to be your first.

Jake opens you up with his tongue and fingers, going quickly out of desperation, but not so much so that he’d hurt you. He can be such a sweetheart sometimes.

“Ready for my cock, honey?” he asks, voice thick with desire behind you.

“Yes, sir,” you say, sounding so submissive with your airy voice and you know it drives him crazy.

He stands, and you can hear the click of the bottle of lube as he slicks his cock. Jake slaps his head against your hole a few times, letting you hear how wet he’s gotten you before he pushes the tip in.

The tip itself is a stretch, and it almost hurts as you tremble slightly. You whine, and he laughs at you.

“Come on, sweetheart, it’s not much bigger than those plugs you take. You can do it.”

After a few moments, Jake pushes in further. You can feel the slow drag of his cock inside you, and soon he’s deeper than you’ve ever had anything before. The burn has subsided, and you don’t even realize that you’re rocking your hips back against him.

“Greedy slut.”

Jake grips your hips to stop your movements and starts his own thrusts. They’re shallow and slow at first, but they quickly get faster and deeper as your tight hole works over his cock.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re tight as hell,” he groans in your ear, having leaned over your back to hit a new angle.

“Fuck, Jake, you’re so deep,” you whine, because there’s nothing that gets your boyfriend to fuck you hard like a little ego stroking.

Jake reaches around your body and finds your clit with ease. He rubs rough circles over it, pressing hard to match his deep thrusts. Luckily he has the stamina to keep up, because the position he finds himself in is difficult to hold.

You’re discovering that you don’t last as long when getting your ass fucked, because pretty soon your toes are curling and you’re grabbing Jake’s wrist, pushing him harder against your clit.

“Gonna cum,” you choke out, and the only response you get from Jake is a growl in your ear.

Your entire body tenses, then releases from your orgasm. You feel so hot all over that you don’t feel Jake’s hot cum filling up the condom.

He collapses, laying over your back and you’re thankful that you were already pressed into the mattress.

“Next time,” he pants, “I’m cumming inside that ass.”

Can't wait to read more !!! Actually you lost me from the beginning 😭 ❤️❤️

Mickey Garcia Holiday One Shot Sneak Peek

All I want for Christmas is...

Pairings - Mickey Garcia x Fem!Reader

Premise – Holidays without your lover aren't the same, you miss him with all your heart and he does too.

Word Count - No idea,

Warnings: Some strong language, references to Pop Culture, allusions to SMUT and a very brutal game of UNO

a/n - Thank you @labarboteuse for this wonderful request. I initially planned it s a headcanon but the holiday season was approaching so I made this into a holiday fic. I hope you like it <3 any and all headcanons/blurbs are mostly welcome.

December 25, Christmas Eve

“...and then Phoenix lost her shit and then we had to group up and shield Harvard from getting waterboarded by her.” Mickey’s face on your phone was scrunched up in delight, as he laughed recounting the tales of Christmas at the base to you.

You touched your screen as if it were his face.

Mickey was your best friend, your husband, and the love of your life.

Staying away from him while he was deployed was difficult, and you handled it like a champ. Occasionally, though, sadness would loom over you unexpectedly. Like waking up and reaching out for him, and meeting the empty side of the bed. Accidentally making two cups of coffee in the morning. One day, when you realized he was not there when you called him, you broke down in tears.

But nothing hurts like not having him home during the holidays for the first time.

When Abuela Juliana bribed you with her homemade caramel cupcakes, you couldn't say no to Mickey's family; his parents, his brother Edgar and his wife Veronica, and their four-year-old twins Camillo and Ariana.

As a single kid, you were sent to boarding school away from home. You hardly knew your parents, and they were always on some crazy trip to Europe every year during Christmas. Celebrating the holidays with his family made you feel at home. Abuela would never let go of a chance to remind you that it was your home too, and you and Veronica were her granddaughters.

You had been reading in Mickey's old room, halfway through an Agatha Christie novel from his bookshelf before he called. It was cozy, with a makeshift space near the window to read, and a lot of Star Wars and hip-hop posters everywhere on the walls.

“How was Christmas?” he asks you, smiling at the camera.

“It was perfect. Abuela kept her promise, making a batch of caramel cupcakes just for me. Camillo and Ariana almost caught Edgar placing the gifts under the tree, but Veronica and I distracted them with Spongebob Squarepants.”

“Clever.”

“Marina and Carlos banned me from the kitchen because I tried to help them, and then fed me your share too.” you sighed.

“God I hope you didn’t eat all the cupcakes, share it with Edgar and Ariana too.” he shrugged.

"No way. Nu-uh" you nodded and snuggled under the covers.

Mickey listened to you with a sad smile on his face, and it hurt you to see that he so clearly missed home.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be home Carino," he says in a dejected tone.

You just wish you could squish his face with your hands and smother him in kisses. He was sad, and you hated seeing him like that.

“I miss you, baby," you say.

He smiled, “I miss you more.” he said as he lay down on his bed. “I really wanted you to be my kiss at midnight.”

“Me too.” you sniffle, tears brimming your eyes as you recall last year when he was home with you, and held you close as you counted down to midnight.

“Baby…” he whispered, noticing your tears, “don’t cry, please.” His eyebrows furrowed with worry, but just as he was about to say further, his image shook around.

It was Phoenix on the screen now, smiling with a Santa cap on.

“Mrs. Garciaaa! Happy Christmas my girl!” she hollered. You wiped your tears and realized she was drunk.

“Happy Christmas Nat.” you smiled, as she passed the phone to Payback.

“I’m sorry Y/N, she’s been drinking like a sailor once we stopped her from waterboarding Harvard.” he sighed, the camera shaking as he walked because he was clearly swatting away Phoenix with his other hand. 

Rooster, Bob, Coyote, Harvard, Yale, and even Hangman joined in to wish you. By the time they handed the phone back to Mickey, you were laughing again.

“There's my girl,” he whispers softly to you, his brown eyes adoringly looking at you.

"Good night, sweetie." you breathe out and kiss the screen.

He blushes and kisses his screen, “good night baby, can’t wait to meet you.”

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Full fic out on 30-12-2022

Requests are open! Feel free to request anything.

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