swag punch a bitch

Your face heats up. “E-Excuse me?”

You can’t fuck Frank. That’d be wrong– morally and emotionally. Plus, it’s not like you even want to fuck him. He’s so irritating and rude. Sure, he’s good-looking to the point that it pisses you off, but that doesn’t mean you would fuck him.

“Princess, I would rather gouge my eyes out than fuck Langdon.”

She purses her lips, “If you say so...”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

"Princess," you purse your lips, "It's not happening."

You're serious. Dead serious. In no world, under no circumstances, will you ever fuck Frank Langdon.

*****

So, maybe hindsight is twenty-twenty.

You try not to linger too much on that as Frank Langdon’s cock hits angles in you that you didn’t think possible. The thing that makes it even worse (somehow worse than making Princess right) is that Frank knows what he’s doing. Like, really knows.

You’d think a quick fuck in the supply closet would be awkward, uncomfortable, that you wouldn’t even be able to get off, but you have. Twice.

Each thrust of his hips has you gasping out, caught between Frank and the wall as you struggle to keep the sounds of your pleasure down. If anybody walked in on you, the two of you would be fucked.

“You don't have a lot to say now, don't you?" Frank pants in your ear. His thrusts are growing sloppy, his lips more loose.

"Fuck you," you spit, like the sensation of his fingers on your clit isn't better than every wet dream you've ever had (and tried to forget) about him.

"Isn't that what I'm doing?"

Then, just on the brink of your third orgasm, the door swings open. Frank, to his credit, spins around so your half-nude body is protected from prying eyes. Thankfully, the door closes just as quickly as it opens, but now you’re trapped with the witness to possibly the greatest fuckup of your collective lives.

“Oh my God!” You gasp.

“Not God, just me.”

Holy shit.

It’s Frank who says, “Robby?”

You’re barely able to put together what’s happening by the time Robby has a fist in your hair and Frank’s. Frank is still inside you, and you clench around him at the harsh tug on your scalp.

“Alright,” Robby says lowly. “This is how this is going to work. First, you two are cutting this shit out. No fucking in my emergency department, ever. Second, if I hear either of you bitching or biting at each other for the rest of the day, I swear that I will make you wish you never stepped foot in this hospital. Is that clear?”

Neither you nor Frank get the chance to say anything, because Robby nods your head for the two of you. 

“Now,” Robby rolls his shoulders. The action makes you notice just how much space he takes up in the closet. “Kiss and make up.”

“What?” You gawk, staring at Frank.

“I said, kiss and make up,” Robby

Frank clears his throat, “Is that not what we're doing?”

"I know you two were too busy insulting each other to kiss, so come on. Do it now." When you both hesitate, Robby rolls his eyes, "What happened to you both trying to be my favorite?"

You gulp, “Dr. Robby—“

“Ah-ah… If you two want to make me happy so bad, then kiss.” Robby juts his chin like he's saying hurry up with it. He might as well just say it, if you're being honest.

It's Frank who moves first, diving forward to trap your lips in his. It's messy and dirty, and Robby's hand is still in your hair. Frank devours you like a man starved. If you didn't enjoy the feel of him, his barely-there stubble brushing your skin, you'd pull away just to insult him about hit, tease him about how desperate he is for you.

But it's over just as quickly as it started.

Robby pulls you away, this time by the back of the neck. He’s so close. All three of you are close, breathing in each others’ spaces. If any one of you leaned in, you would be kissing. God, how you want to lean in. At this point, you’re so worked up it doesn’t matter if you’re kissing Robby or Frank. You just need something to happen that isn’t this.

“Good,” Robby praises. The timber of his voice makes your walls flutter around Frank who gasps softly. “Now, I want you two waiting for me in the ambulance bay after hand-off. Is that clear?”

"Crystal," Frank gasps.

"Yessir," you gulp.

Robby licks his lips and nods, "Now get each other off, quickly. I don't want either of you to be all pent up when you're supposed to be focused on patients."

*

Obi-Wan had only touched you once since that night he’d appeared and roughly pulled you against him before making you sleep.

You'd awoken in a plush suite with the doors and windows locked and him lounging in a nearby armchair, engrossed in a book. You hadn't gotten a good look at him before. He was regrettably handsome. Coppery hair swept back, long enough to brush his black collar. Short, neatly trimmed matching beard. A beard maybe only a few months grown. The eyes, though. Unsettling. Red-rimmed and yellow and burning.

"Hello, there." His tone sounded almost friendly but held a warning behind it. Don't test me it seemed to say.

"Where- why . . ." you struggled to continue and fell into tears. "You've kidnapped me."

"I would not call it that."

Sobs wracked your body. The mattress shifted with his weight- he'd moved to sit next to you and let his fingers run along your cheek. You recoiled at the touch. Silently, he stood and retired.

After that, Obi-Wan visited once or twice a day and just looked. Looked as you read or stared out the window or begged to be released. One day you'd fallen to your knees at his feet, inches away from his legs. When you'd looked up, a dark and wild desire had overtaken those terrifying eyes that glowered down. You were caught and caged by them, unable to look away and finding that maybe you didn't really want to. The terror of him lit something inside you.

He reached down to grip your chin, holding you to face him. Obi-Wan was getting impatient with your mewling resistance.

"I will have your respect," he said. "And you will learn your place."

"And where is my place?" you asked, voice barely a whisper, catching as the feel of his skin on yours sent an unwanted wave through your core.

He bent, bringing his face closer to yours. Yellow, red rimmed eyes flashing with heat.

"In my bed."

*

Obi-Wan revealed himself as Darth Malvorus- a name you’d heard spoken in hushed tones around the Senate along with stories of the devastation brought by his hand. A demon let loose on the galaxy. And he had you trapped.

On Obi-Wan’s next visit, he returned to the chair and continued just looking. Emboldened, you stood and stared right back. The action seemed to amuse him. But, for all his outward serenity, he held a short temper and quickly became annoyed. You nursed that annoyance for a couple days, waiting until just a touch of anger marred his handsome features, before finally speaking.

“Why me?” The question carried an unexpected edge.

“You’re beautiful, but beautiful women are common,” he said. “You are special.”

He rose and covered the ground between you.

“I’ve been watching you flit around the Senate,” he said. “A little butterfly, whispering in everyone’s ear. Delicately swaying their thoughts.”

You worked as an aide- primary task being to convince other senators to support your senator’s endeavors. You were trying to help make it a better world. Right?

“You have a keen talent for manipulation.”

“It’s just my job,” you wavered, suddenly feeling very exposed and very afraid.

“There is no need to fear me,” he said gently, running the back of fingers along your cheek. “Unless you give me reason to make you afraid.”

“I had only intended to take you to bed that night,” he continued. “On approach I sensed it. Force sensitivity. Just a seed. Yet enough to make me want more than a tawdry tryst.”

“That’s not—” you were interrupted by his thumb softly breeching your lips. Unthinking, you opened, allowing him to explore further, beginning to crumble into the heat of wanting this terrifying Sith lord.

“Don’t be so shocked, little butterfly. Did you really think you were able to influence so many people with words and promises alone? You were pushing them with what little Force ability you have.” He circled around to stand at your back, holding you ever so lightly at the throat to rest your head on his chest. He brought his mouth to your ear, short beard brushing against your skin, drawing out a soft moan. Your core blazed with a lust so fierce it hurt.

“The important thing is that you enjoyed it. Enjoyed playing them all as puppets. The sense of power. And you want more. Have always wanted more and did not know how to get it. Did not know how to become the woman you want to be.”

The words dripped through your soul like lava – hot and thick and burning lies away. You felt you had enjoyed it. Not for the good of your world, as you’d often said. For the thrill of bending senators. Was that—that couldn’t be. No. That wasn’t you. Unless it was. Was he compelling you to feel this? The woman he’s showing you . . . is that the real you? Who you want to be? Everything was blurry. But it felt true.

Obi-Wan – Darth Malvorus -- felt like the only truth in the galaxy.

“I could help you,” he murmured, lips a whisper away from yours. “Could help you finally be free.”

You plunged forward to kiss him. He grasped your hair and kissed back hard with everything he had— a fire purifying you for him.

“Take me to bed,” you breathed. “Please?”

“How can I deny a wish asked so sweetly?”

Obi-Wan led you across the hall to his personal chambers and seated himself in a lush chair, leaning back with his legs crossed, ankle over knee. You stepped forward, but he raised a hand directing to be still. Unsure what to do, you shyly removed your dress and panties. Yellow eyes hungrily skated over your nakedness and you slowly turned to show him everything. He waved you closer and, once there, parted your legs a bit and delved two fingers into your dripping hole. Fingers pumped in and out, curling against that spot that made you whine, all while leering up and thinking about everything he was going to do to you- tonight and beyond.

Invisible hands palmed your flesh and teased your bud, building tantalizing pleasure, rolling in waves beneath the skin until you could barely breathe. He leaned forward and flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit and sent you over the edge loud and hard and gushing enough to dampen the cuff of his sleeve.

He rose and smeared the slick release over your lips and kissed you. Your hands went about removing the black tunic and shirt beneath, revealing reddish hair spanning his chest, traveling down. Also uncovering finely muscled shoulders and torso crisscrossed with scars and burns from the many battles this body had fought.

He relaxed back into the chair. You dropped to your knees and removed his boots, then undid his pants and brought them down, gasping at what he had for you.

“How . . .”

“It’s alright, love,” he chuckled. “I know how to be gentle with it. At first.”

You dragged your tongue over the head of his cock then sank forward, taking only half his length before pulling back and sinking forward again. Glancing up, that same dark and wild desire that had overtaken those eyes a few days prior had returned. Obi-Wan was visibly fighting the urge to destroy your mouth and come down your throat.

He pulled you off and lifted you to straddle him. Slowly, he brought you down around his cock, inch by inch. Giving you time to adjust to the size, not wanting to hurt you. Once fully joined, you paused, enjoying being filled by him. You stayed that way, unmoving, until he palpably became aggravated at the wait. Only then, did you start bouncing furiously, craving another orgasm.

“Don’t be greedy,” he said, gripping your hips. “You’ll take what I give you and only that. Now, be still.”

Obi-Wan grasped your hair and pulled you to arch your back to better present your breasts to him. “Beautiful,” he murmured. His mouth found a nipple and sucked, tongue circling, then moved on to the tender flesh, kissing roughly to mark you. Again, that invisible hand ghosted over your nub. You pushed up only for that hand you yank you back down.

“Don’t. Move.”

The hand continued teasing and Obi-Wan continued his exploration while you sat on his cock and quaked. When you couldn’t see anymore, he pulled you forward and stood to carry you across the room and threw you to the bed, wickedly grinning at your shocked face and suddenly empty, fluttering hole.

Obi-Wan crawled up, pausing to deliver one lick of the tongue over your clit before settling over you, pushing his cock just inside your entrance, and waiting. You tried to writhe, to take him further inside, but he held you immobilized.

Finally, he pushed forward hard.

“Who is the master, here?” he demanded.

“Y—you are.”

He drew back and slammed into you again.

“Look at me and say it,” he demanded again, gritting his teeth.

“You are . . . Master.”

Satisfied, he released the hold on you and began brutally thrusting. He moaned when your nails dug into his shoulders hard enough that they would be peppered with little red half-moons. Your mild defiance from earlier was enraging, enticing at the same time and made him increase the pace as he chased his own pleasure, bringing you with him.

Obi-Wan pulled out and with a guttural groan, released on your belly and breasts, claiming and marking his prize with thick streams of cum as you cried out with him, having been allowed a second climax. Falling to the mattress, chest heaving, he admired the mess of you. Breasts rising and falling fast with exerted breaths, small rivulets of sweat running into your hair. He propped himself up on an elbow and ran two fingers from your belly to chest, gathering cum and bringing it to your lips. They parted and eagerly drank up what he gave you.

“This won’t be easy for you,” he said, sounding far away. You were already drifting into a deep sleep.

*

Darth Malvorus got to work nurturing the Force seed he’d sensed into a poison flower. Success brought lavish rewards. Failure brought swift, cruel punishment. With each failure and subsequent punishment, Obi-Wan would carry you trembling to the bathtub, light candles and gently bathe you while reassuring how well you were doing for him. How bravely you bear what he metes out for the failures. With each lesson, you fell further into darkness.

Afterwards, he would carry you to bed, holding you until sleep fell. Those nights, he didn’t take you.

The other nights, he did so hard and fast. Or agonizingly slowly. Other nights, he didn’t give you his cock or fingers at all, instead taking your pussy into his mouth, leaving you empty. Working his lips and tongue over every fold and that bundle of nerves until you bucked so hard, he sometimes worried you might snap his neck.

And yet he rarely let you come. You always eagerly opened your legs for his cock or fingers or mouth anyway. Even if you didn’t climax, the feeling of being kept almost there for hours was intoxicating. When he did allow it, a blaze ripped through your body and continued raging as he kept going until you sobbed and told him to stop. He always did so immediately and brought a cool cloth to soothe your overheated skin. A cup of tea to calm you.  Arms around you as he lightly kissed your shoulders, whispering all the ways you were perfect.  

*

“You will never wield a lightsaber,” Obi-Wan announced one afternoon after you’d dropped one again.  

“Then why do you keep making me try?” you snapped.

You could feel him trying to penetrate your mind at the defiance, but he’d been an excellent tutor in developing and amplifying the skills you already possessed. Despite his efforts, however, you had yet to swing more than two or three strokes of a lightsaber before dropping it. You’d never made one single thing float. Yours was a power over people, not things. And you enjoyed deploying it. As he’d predicted from the start.

Because Darth Malvorus had taught you so well, his mental probing was easily deflected. He could no longer penetrate your thoughts.

“But I do not need you to wield a lightsaber,” he said softly, drawing you close. “You now have strong skills within the Force that differ from mine. Dark serenity. Malicious patience. And that molten silver tongue. You can now bend even the strongest minds to my will. Can influence in ways I cannot. There is nothing else that I will teach you.”

When Obi-Wan – Darth Malvorus - first brought you here, a cord of fear sat taut in your mind. Under his teaching, cords of anger, love, and lust joined; all of them braiding into a stronger cord that held you up. And slithering around and up it was a serpent. Malice.

Not towards him, although sometimes he could light a rage in you that brought a vicious smile to his face. Toward everything. And nothing. Becoming a simple fact of your very being. Malice. The serpent that held everything together.

He cupped your face and kissed you deeply.

“With you by my side, I will be unstoppable.”

Obi-Wan let you come that night. Four times.

*

Even though Obi-Wan said the Force education was done, he continued edging you into oblivion and it was pissing you off.  

You had been so close for too long, nails digging into your lover’s back. Over time, your angry scratches had joined the battle scars and added to the story written on his skin. Yet tonight he continued languidly dragging his cock against your walls, pressing his forehead to yours. You were desperate to release and furious that Obi-Wan wouldn’t allow it. Especially after how well you’d done at that gala tonight, charming people and gently pushing them with the Force, making pieces of his many schemes fall into place. The lust and hate and love you held for Obi-Wan overflowed, and you took a risk.

“If you don’t make me come tonight,” you said, “I’m going to smack you.”

In an instant, he’d pinned you down by the wrists and glared hard, eyes flashing at the nerve of the challenge. How dare you threaten him.

“Try it,” he darkly demanded. This was not a lover’s playful dare. This was an order, backed by a threat.

You’d come to believe that there were two men behind those red-rimmed yellow eyes, and you burned with furious love for both.

Darth Malvorus: the cruel tutor in the ways of the Force. Who would do such things as adorn you with jewels mined from a dead star when you made him proud. Who would leave you shaking on the floor when you disappointed him.

Obi-Wan: the malevolent carer. Who picked you up from the floor, bathed you, and rubbed ointment and bacta into everything that hurt. Who held you softly and spun stories of how he’d rule the galaxy and would be able to do so because of you.

However. Once, it seemed there was a third man:

After a particularly difficult session with Darth Malvorus, Obi-Wan had drawn a bath and scattered orchids atop the water. He’d washed your hair and was carefully wiping soapy water from your eyes when it happened.

For maybe only a second or two, his face . . . changed. Held an expression of deep regret. And his eyes. Bright blue.

“I’m sorry,” he’d whispered.

Then Darth Malvorus was there, yellow eyes burning with a wrath hotter than you’d ever seen. Hand gripping the edge of the bathtub so hard the porcelain cracked. It was never spoken of, and you tucked that briefest of moments away, wondering if you now had a secret from him.

The man pinning you down right now was Darth Malvorus.

“Try. It.”

Gathering every shred of Force energy you could muster, you reached out and threw it. His head snapped to the side with the force of your invisible hand’s impact. Pressing luck, you did it again. He slowly turned his gaze back to you, yellow eyes blown out with lust.

“Finally,” he growled.

In another instant, he’d fallen back on his knees and yanked you around, back to his chest, and speared you on his cock. Darth Malvorus was unleashed and feral, holding you against him by the throat with one hand and circling your bud with the other. He rammed into you relentlessly as the promise of that long-awaited orgasm tore through your core and chest and thighs. Loud, ragged moans escaped your mouth as you came bright and powerful; vision blurring white as if blinded by the stars of a thousand planets.

He followed, biting your neck as he groaned; an avalanche, vibrating through you, releasing stream after stream of cum deep inside until it spilled out around his cock and onto his thighs.

*

“Have you given it anymore thought?” Obi-Wan asked, easing up from behind, wrapping his arms around you at the mirror where you were fussing over hair and makeup. He looked a bit older with the shorter hair and fuller beard, but still stunning. Still caught your breath when you looked at him. And he cut an impressive figure in a close-fitting black jacket and pants that accentuated his shoulders and thighs.

You’d been by his side for quite some time now, aiding in bringing many of his schemes to fruition. He always wanted more, though. And now wanted more from you.

“There’s nothing more to think about,” you replied, bringing his hand to your belly. “It’s already happened.”

A primal shudder escaped him. He kissed the side of your neck. You could feel his hardening cock against your ass even through the heavy skirt of the black gown that had just been made. He grinded against you.

“We’re going to be late,” you smilingly protested. Not much of a protest. Obi-Wan was at your neck and it was always hard to resist him.

“They can wait,” he murmured. “I want you now.”

Hangman knew the rule. Hell, the rule had been established because of him. No fraternizing with other top gun cadets. It made for messy times while flying through the sky. Too many feelings were involved as they argued about who slept with who and who did what with who and who didn’t text who back. There was no room for all of that when they were flying at supersonic speed and fighting for their lives. Some of the pilots found it dumb, when they sat in the briefing talking about the new rules and regulations. 

One of them in particular was Y/N Y/L/N, call sign Hotshot. She didn’t think it was necessary to have to sit in a class about fraternizing and safe sex when the one person the class was directed at was sleeping. She hated Jake Hangman Seresin. She hated everything about him. And He hated her. 

Both of them had been born to Top Gun graduates, and the rivalry between them had started from birth. Their dads had gone back and forth fighting for who was top of the class (ultimately it was Y/N’s dad), and the fight spewed over into Y/N and Jake. Y/N had a lot to prove during her year at Top Gun, she was one of only five females in the program. By the time graduation rolled around, she was one of two (the other being Phoenix). 

She didn’t have time to worry about feelings or sex when she was fighting to be one of the best. Hangman had tried to get to her, flashing that ridiculous smile, or taking his shirt off when it wasn’t necessary, or buying her a drink. But she wouldn’t budge. She had earned her nickname when in one of her dogfights with Hangman, she had pulled a cobra move, and flipped over him to take him down. Hangman hated it, and she never let him live it down. 

Hangman had thought when they graduated Top Gun that would be the last time he saw Hotshot, until he got called back. The hard deck was the last place he’d ever thought he’d see her. But the second she walked in with Rooster, he felt his mood sour. She looked great, and he hated to admit it. The shorts on her body showed off her tan legs and the tank top on her body showed off her toned arms. Hangman clenched his jaw as she walked towards them, gaining the attention of the other male counterparts. 

“Guess they just let anybody back,” Hangman said. 

“Clearly, you’re here,” She fired back as she greeted the group. 

“Where have you been?” Phoenix said, hugging her friend. 

“Here, there, everywhere. When you graduate top of the class,” Y/N said, looking over at Hangman, “You get to pick where you want to be.” 

“And yet you chose to stay here, in fighter town,” Hangman smirked, “You finally let a man into that cold dead thing between your legs?” 

“You finally treat that raging case of chlamydia?” 

Hangman rolled his eyes as the group broke out in cheers for the comeback. Everyone crowded around Y/N, leaving Hangman to seethe in his spot, glaring at her. She had a way of getting under his skin and making him irritated. He knew better than to let a rival bother him this much, but there was just something about her that he couldn’t shake. Normally, if it was a male counterpart he would just box them or go in rounds until they couldn’t offend each other anymore. But with Y/N he always stopped himself from saying anything too far. He did respect her, he would never admit it out loud, but he did. 

“I see you and Bradshaw came together…” Phoenix looked over at the brown haired man. Y/N rolled her eyes. Ever since Top Gun, Rooster and Hotshot had been friends. They bonded over the shared trauma of losing a parent in the service, only thing was, Hotshot was old enough to vividly remember that day and Rooster was not, “Oh come on! Four years and nothing!?“ 

“Zilch.” Hotshot answered. 

“It’s cause Rooster’s too pussy and Hotshot’s too bitchy,” Hangman added in, “Ya know what… Hotshot’s probably still a virgin.” 

“Why are you so obsessed with my sex life? Is yours so boring that you have to fantasize about mine?” Y/N asked him, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Sorry babe, not my type,” Hangman smirked and took the pool stick from Bob, “But i’m sure i can make arrangements if you need to let off a lil steam, cause I’m good, Hotshot,” He spoke lowly as he lined up his shot, and without breaking eye contact sunk in the pool ball, “Very good.” 

“I think i just vomited in my mouth,” Y/N responded and walked away from Hangman, leaving him to get teased by the other males. Hangman clenched his jaw, his eyes following her as she disappeared and saddled right up next to Rooster on the piano bench. 

— — — 

Hangman was pissed as he walked on the tarmac. His body felt hot, and it didn’t help that the hot California sun was beating down on him as he marched up to where Hotshot was climbing down from her plane. Phoenix gave her a high five and congratulated her on being the first in their class to actually defeat Maverick in the dogfight. Hangman unbuckled his helmet and threw it, making Hotshot jump in surprise. 

“What the hell was that!?” He yelled, the muscles in his neck straining, “You fucking left me!” 

“It’s called a dogfight, Bagman, don’t you know how this shit works?” Y/N said, taking off her own helmet. 

“You left me fucking hanging!” Hangman had been pissed the second that Maverick broke through them, flying side by side. Hangman was shouting different orders on which way to go, not even bothering to check and see if Hotshot was following. He had checked over his left when Maverick had done a cobra move over him, and at the same time, Hotshot got behind them to shoot both of them down. 

“Sounds familiar. . .” 

“You fucking bitch,” Hangman seethed and squared up next to her. Their bodies were so close they could feel each other’s breaths. Y/N had to look up slightly as Hangman towered over her, “This is the reason you’re alone and you're dried up. No one that fucking fiance of yours cheated-” 

“Enough!” Phoenix yelled, stepping in between the two, “You guys have been nonstop with this petty shit the whole time! It’s fucking annoying. Get over yourselves.” 

Y/N scoffed and turned away, walking towards the hangar. Hangman grinded his back teeth as he watched her walk. Bob gingerly held Hangman’s helmet towards him and Hangman rolled his eyes, snatching it back from him. 

“Are they ever going to stop?” Bob asked. Their petty fights had been happening all week and everyone was growing tired of it. It was worse in the classroom when they’d go sit after a dogfight or pathway run and Maverick would ask what they did wrong to get the other one or their team killed. They both had a hard time admitting defeat. 

“No,” Phoenix said, shaking her head and walking in the same direction of Y/N. 

— — — 

The hard deck was packed when Hotshot, Phoenix and Bob walked in. Phoenix walked right to the bar ordering her and Hotshot drinks, while Bob made his way to the pool table, spotting Rooster and Fanboy. Phoenix knew exactly what Hotshot needed, ordering them both three shots of vodka each. Hotshot didn’t hesitate as she threw them back in a row and then sucked on the lime Penny had given her. 

“Fuck I needed that,” She said, closing her eyes at the bitter taste of the lime, “Where the fuck does Hangman get off thinking he can say shit like that? Bringing up my douche bag of a fiancé.” 

“Ex!” Phoenix said, taking a sip of the beer she ordered, “Ex fiancé, meaning you are single, meaning. . . we are getting you laid tonight.” 

“What? No, no no no,” Y/N shook her head, “You know the rule!” 

“The rule is no banging each other, and it’s not even an actual rule,” 

“Just frowned upon,” 

“Exactly!” Phoenix exclaimed, “Why not him?” 

Y/N looked where Phoenix was pointing, a tall handsome man with brown curly hair, and perfectly sun kissed tan skin. He had a nice smile, Hotshot could give him that, his arms looked toned as he laughed with some of his buddies. Y/N shrugged, she needed the release. She had tried to get herself off but no matter what she did or used or watched, she couldn’t bring herself to the tipping point and it was driving her crazy. It didn’t help that she was sexually frustrated and was constantly fighting with Hangman.

It made her blood boil when he’d even open his mouth and start talking or the simple smirk he’d give her with that stupid toothpick between his perfectly white teeth. Hotshot let out a huff, and grabbed her beer, clinking it with Phoenix’s before walking over to the group. Phoenix bit back a smile as she watched her friend walk over and the guy’s eyes light up. Lt Trace wasn’t the only person who noticed Lt Y/L/N walk over to the group of civilian men. 

“Damn, get it Hotshot,” Rooster smirked, watching as she stood in front of the brunette man, him placing his hands on her hip as he guided her hand to throw a dart. 

“She can’t throw darts on her own?” Hangman rolled his eyes. 

“She’s trying to get laid, lighten up,” Phoenix said, joining the group. 

“With him!? What is he? Seventeen?” Hangman said, pointing at the guy. 

“Are you jealous?” 

“Oh Hotshot? Fuck no, I could bang any woman in this bar-“ 

As soon as the words left his mouth, the bell across the bar rang. Hangman rolled his eyes as the bar cheered and Penny pointed at him. Hangman kept his mouth shut for the most part the rest of the night, but decided to fight fire with fire and choose a girl of his own to try and sweet talk into being brought home. 

Y/N looked over at the group and found Hangman chatting up a girl, giving her that panty dropping smile of his and Hotshot rolled her eyes. She grabbed the guy’s hand, who’s name she found out was Tony, and moved it from his lap so she could stake her claim. Tony smirked, loving the idea of having her pretty self sitting on his lap. Hangman clenched his jaw and pulled the girl he was talking to in between his legs as he sat on a barstool, waiting for his turn in pool. 

Hangman had enough the second he saw Tony starting to place kisses on Y/N’s neck and move his hand up her bare thigh. Before he could even really think, he pushed the girl away between his legs and walked over to Y/N. He didn’t even say anything as he grabbed her arm and lifted her away from Tony. Tony stood up to protest, but Hangman gave him a look and Tony sat back down in his seat, knowing better than to try and fight the angry pilot. Y/N tried to rip her arm away, which only made Hangman tighten his grip as he dragged her to the closest bathroom. 

“What the fuck,” Hotshot yelled, ripping her arm away. She hardly had time to think, as Hangman slammed her up against the closed door, being chest to chest with her. Their chests fell in sync. 

“Do you think it’s okay to just. . . slut it up out there?” 

“Me? Slutting it up? How about you and that poor girl who probably confuses her left and-“ 

“Says the one who was sitting on a man’s lap, basically letting him finger you in a crowded bar,” Hotshot was almost too aware of the way Hangman’s hand skidded along the bottom hem of her dress, “I bet you’d like that, having all eyes on you, that’s why they call you Hotshot.” She clenched her jaw as Hangman dropped his head to speak into her ear. He ghosted his lips on her jaw, making her tilt her head back giving him more access to her neck, “About to give in so fucking easily. God you must really need it.” 

“I can go ask Rooster if you won’t. He’d be willing, or maybe even Coyote, or better yet Bob-“ 

Her words were cut off by Hangman smashing his lips against hers. There was nothing soft about the kissing, it was hot and bruising, as she tangled her fingers in his perfect blonde locks. His hands trailed to the back of her thighs, tapping on them, signaling for her to jump. Her legs wrapped perfectly around his toned torso as he walked them over to the counter. He set her down and his lips went to her jaw and trailed down her neck, sucking and kissing lightly. 

“God, you’re such a bitch,” He mumbled against her skin. 

“You’re an ass,” She said, pulling on his blond hair, making him look up at her, “I fucking hate you.” 

“Likewise,” Hangman smirked and kissed her again. His fingers trailed under her skirt, which had ridden up her tan thighs. Goosebumps rose on her skin as he lazily dragged his middle finger over her clothed slit, “But I make you wet don’t you. Your little pussy is just begging for someone to touch it.” He said in her ear, his breath hot as she arched her back at the feeling. Her nipples were straining through the thin bra she wore underneath her tank top. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, I could go home and fix this problem myself,” She said. 

“Nothing can ever make you feel as good as I can, babe,” Hangman said, and pushed her panties to the side, his middle finger coming in contact with her clit. She let out a shaky moan at the feeling, and fisted his shirt in her hands, “God now this is a fucking site,” With his free hand, he pushed her skit up, putting her on display, as he ran his finger through her glistening folds, “Look at you, all quiet for once. Tell me what you want,” 

“I’ll kill you,” Y/N said breathlessly as Hangman’s finger tapped at her entrance. She shamelessly clenched at the feeling. She closed her eyes; was she really going to beg for this? Pushing her pride aside she opened her eyes and looked at him, “Touch me.” 

Hangman smirked and pushed his finger into her. She let out a moan, dropping her head back at the sensation, a slight burn at being stretched out. She hadn’t had anything more than her own fingers in so long, that she felt her walls being stretched. He started slowly, and watched her face as he moved his digit in and out of her. She closed her eyes, her hands on his shoulders, her jaw open in complete bliss, soft moans leaving her pink lips. It was a sight to see, and Hangman wished he could take a picture. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Hangman moaned, feeling the blood rush to his already hard cock, “Fuck I bet you taste sweet.” He moved his finger in and out, making sure to curl against that sweet spot that had her curling her toes. 

“Why don’t you put your mouth to good use then,” 

“Another day, sweetheart, right now, I wanna be inside you.” Hangman said, taking his hand away from her. She whined at the loss of the feeling and Hangman chuckled, “You whining?” 

“It’s not too late for me to go ask Rooster,” 

“Yeah, no,” Hangman said, and grabbed her body off the counter, and spun her around. He hiked her skirt up enough that her ass was on display. He grabbed the flimsy thong she was wearing and pulled it down her legs. He put them in his pocket and then grabbed her ass, giving it a squeeze before laying a harsh smack to the skin. 

“Fuck!” Y/N moaned, and looked over her shoulder at him, “Again.” 

“Kinky,” He smirked and laid another smack to the skin. She moaned, rolling her eyes back, “If this was what I needed to do to shut you up, I would’ve done it years ago,” He said as he undid his belt, and pulled his pants down enough to get his cock out. Y/N looked down, and felt herself clench at the sight of his cock. It was perfectly hard as it rested against his stomach, the tip red and leaking, “You like it, this what you want? If I give you my cock, will you stop being a bitch?” 

“No fucking promises,” Y/N said, and pushed her ass back towards him, “Fuck me, or I’ll leave.” 

“Shut up,” Hangman groaned, fisting his cock. Y/N shuddered at the feeling as he took his cock and rubbed over her folds, spreading the slick wetness from her cunt around. He lined himself, pushing in her slowly. She closed her eyes at the slight sting of pain as he placed one hand on the counter and the other on her hip. Her pussy took him completely in, as he pushed in and bottomed out, his hips flush with her ass. He began to pull back slightly, feeling her clench around him. 

“Don’t-” She said, letting out a shaky breath, “Just-” 

“If I don’t move, I’m going to cum,” 

“Already?” She smirked looking at him in the mirror. 

“Shut up. Your pussy is like heaven. Warm, tight, squeezing me,” His voice seemed to have dropped an octave as he very carefully pulled his hips back and thrusted into her. The moan that left her lips was almost pornographic as she dropped her head forward. 

“God, fuck me,” She moaned. 

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Hangman said and sped up his thrusts. 

The feeling was almost too much, as Jake’s cock brushed that spot over and over again. The slight stinging pain she felt moments before had faded away and all she felt was pure pleasure. The hand Jake had on the counter had found its way to her hair, tangling itself in it and pulling. She gasped at the feeling of both pain and pleasure as Jake’s hips went at a relentless speed. His thrusts were fast and deep, the soft pants and curse words leaving his lips. 

“Fuck,” He cursed, pulling out of her completely. He turned her around once again so she was facing him, and set her on the edge of the counter, and slipped back into her, “Oh god, you feel so fucking good.” 

Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He thrusted deep into her, and it felt like he was grazing her cervix. He smirked as she dropped her head onto his shoulder and thrusted deep and hard again. He could feel her pussy clench around him, and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. 

“You like when I do this,” Jake said, thrusting deep again. The only thing she could muster up was a nod, her senses being completely taken over by pleasure, “Look at you, so cock dumb you can’t even use your words.” He picked up his pace, hitting the same spot over and over, deep and hard. 

Y/N let out something short of a scream as she fisted locks of his blonde hair in her hands. He took one hand and brought it down between their bodies, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing at it softly. The most beautiful sound left her lips as she closed her eyes, seeing white spots in her vision. Jake could feel her starting to let go and grabbed her throat. 

“Ask,” He said, his lips barely touching hers. 

“Please-” 

“Please what?” 

“Can I cum, please oh, fuck please.” 

Jake smirked, “You’re such a cockslut, yes you can cum.” 

Y/N’s body convulsed as Jake held her and continued to fuck her through her orgasm. The waves of pleasure that rolled through her body was enough to make her lose all sense of thought that she had. Her mind was blank except for the feeling of his cock against her g-spot. The sight of her orgasm, watching her soul basically leave her body was enough to bring Jake to the tipping point. He pulled his hips back to pull out, but Y/N shook her head, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

“In me. . . please,” She panted out and Jake nodded, thrusting as deep as he possibly could. They both moaned at the feeling as Jake released himself, shooting white hot cum into her. Jake milked his orgasm and Y/N moaned at the overstimulation. Jake stopped and leaned his head against her shoulder, completely spent. He took a couple seconds to catch his breath before lifting his head up to look at her. 

“Your place or mine?” 

“Mine,” Y/N said and Jake nodded. 

“I’m gonna pull out,” Jake said and Y/N nodded. He grabbed her hips and pulled out, he let out a curse at the way she once again clenched around him, “God it was like your pussy was made for me.” He fixed himself back into his jeans and zipped them up. 

“Shut up,” Y/N said, “Hand me my underwear.” 

“You mean. . . these,” Hangman smirked, holding up her thong. 

“Yes,” Y/N reached out to snatch them back but Hangman moved his hand quickly. Her jaw dropped in complete shock as Hangman brought them to his nose and sniffed them, “You sick fuck. . .” 

“Says the one about to walk out with my cum running down her leg.” Hangman smirked, “Hurry up, I’ll meet you in the car.” He kissed her cheek, before opening the door and quickly leaving her to do her thing. 

Y/N, very carefully jumped off the counter, hoping to not drip cum on the ground and rushed to the toilet to pee. Once she was done and cleaned herself up and washed her hands, she walked back out to the busy bar and over to her friends. Phoenix had a smirk on her face that Hotshot wanted so badly to smack off her face. 

“I’m leaving,” Hotshot said, grabbing her purse. 

“I bet you are, and lemme guess,” Phoenix said and whispered in your ear, “Hangman has your underwear.” Y/N’s eyes widened, “Walked over here saying he was leaving, turned around and had a bright red thong hanging out of his back pocket.” 

“I’m going to kill him,” Y/N seethed and walked towards the door. 

“Use protection!” Phoenix yelled after her, earning herself the finger. She laughed and sat back down on her barstool, “You fuckers owe me, pay up!” The boys groaned as they fished their wallets out of their pockets and paid Phoenix for the bet they placed.

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authors note: thanks for 300!:) here's a lil celebration post. I normally don't write smut, so I hope this wasn't horrible. please be honest and tell me if it was

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