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diejager · 2 years ago

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Only Human

Pairing : Monster Task Force 141 x reader

Cw : canon-typical violence, bodies, death, blood, cannibalism?, wounds, trauma.

Wc : 3.2k

Note: the designs for the Monster 141 came from @bluegiragi

Only Human masterlist

When Laswell, a known figure in the Intel gathering ranks of the CIA and military, had called you for your new transfer, you were ecstatic about it. You showed up casually, still in your vest and whole attire from your deployment, you were told that Laswell was waiting for you in her office once you took your first step. You only had time to drop off your weapons in the armory before going straight to her office.

You were personally asked to join a Task Force, not another squad or team under a Captain, which you hadn't expected; an international Task Force to boot, it shocked you, even more, to have been asked to have you on a Task Force that spanned nations wide. The radar must've been wide for it to be an international one, important and specialized soldiers were probably the ones who were invited - green berets, if you guessed.

You were excited, though, to have the honour of joining specialized soldiers with only being a corporal.

"Which Task Force, ma'am?" you asked, back straight with your hands crossed behind your back.

"The 141, Hunter."

Your composure almost slipped, your mind buzzed with excitement and confusion at the notice. The 141 was a reputed group, having members from the United Kingdom to the Americas and allies in the south, around Urzikstan, and perhaps farther. They took down Major Hassan, killing the heart of Al-Qatala and weeding out traitors like General Sheperd and Graves' PMC, the Shadows. A closed group with secrets only they knew and would take to the grave, a tight-knit Task Force.

You've heard of some members, none being human. The Ghost - or Ghost - a wraith hybrid of some sort, as dangerous as he was respectable. He was the better known one, a popular topic from one's lips to the other, gossip and rumors about him being more monster than human. While some were harmless, others were made to be racists - or xenophobic in some rarer cases - most were gossip, exaggerated depictions of the man people feared and admired.

You were jumping under your skin for the day to pass faster, for your transfer to happen more quickly. You couldn't wait to meet your new teammates, you've heard good and bad things about them. Some were sociable, others shy or downright menacing to look and interact with (perhaps they specifically meant Ghost).

You've always wanted to work with monsters, the majority of the military was made up of human men and women with a low, low (around 5%) being monsters, creatures of the night that made them stronger, faster, and better than humans, but they were often hunted until the last decades.

You, however, expected that half of the Task Force was made up of humans, and the rest monsters. You were wrong, really wrong. The moment you stepped out, you realized how unfortunate - maybe fortunate to be stuck with broad, strong, and handsome men - you were to be the sole human. Perhaps it was the shock or the honour that made you freeze and shy away, but neither of them could make you feel as prepared as you should be for officially joining them.

"Welcome to the Task Force, Hunter!" Price yelled over the beating blades of the helicopter, blue eyes staring at you with a - sinful, you found it sinfully handsome - smile hidden under his beard. He also had a green tail that followed behind him, a long, strong tail, you mustn't forget that.

The first ones you talked to were Soap and Rudolfo, two jokesters within the group. Soap was cute, having almost a puppy-like excitement at meeting you with the way he greeted you, smiling and laughing boisterously. He was loud and warm when you first talked to him.

Rodolfo, or Rudy as he told you to call him (you stuck with Rodolfo, feeling too intrusive to call him by his lovely nickname), was Mexican, a special forces, just like everyone else in the TF. He was as warm as the Mexican sun, funny, and soft-spoken.

They had an accent, one a light Mexican and the other a deep Scottish slur in his words. Rudolfo incorporated Spanish words in his sentences, easily understood but adorable nonetheless. Soap's Scottish accent was thicker, deep with his jargon that you sometimes questioned if he was even speaking English.

You only found out that they were monsters when they were training outside. You watched Soap turn from under the shades, eyes keen on his rippling muscles and cracking bones. His jaw shifted, it grew longer and his ears pointed up, light brown fur sprouted from his skin and his mohawk traveled farther, turning into a mane. You could hear the whines and grunts from his transformation.

A werewolf, you learned. He had enhanced strength. He became more durable and agile. He had accelerated healing, almost ten times the speed of regular men, and his senses seemed to have heightened significantly. It looked painful, you concluded so from the bodily sounds and his moans. The heat he exhumed was searing hot, it turned the air around him into mist, burning the water in the air and turning it into gas.

Soap had heard you gasp and awe at his form, broader and taller, he towered over you when he stood on his hind legs. His eyes glowed a vibrant blue when they met yours, waiting and gauging your reaction, but he could only see awe and admiration, perhaps a dash of excitement beneath your gaping expression.

He padded towards you, lurching forward and sending you tumbling on your back as his tongue lolled to the side and hung from his panting maw. His shoulders shook, abdomen flexing rapidly, it looked like he was laughing. At your reaction, or you, you didn't know, all you had in kind wa the urge to touch him. He looked so soft.

It was ironic in some sense, for the man - now creature - who feared dogs to be a werewolf, a larger, more dangerous, and fantastical counterpart to the domesticated dog.

"Can I pet you?" the words fell from your lips before you knew it, your face flushed and your body seized in embarrassment.

Soap huffed and pushed his snout to your shoulder, lowering his head in approval. He would let you pet him, and you took it without complaint. His fur and mane were soft, maybe the softest you've ever touched (you grew up hunting with your father, you knew for as well as any other hunter). It was soft and silky, he had taken great care in his grooming.

He let out a satisfied rumble when he saw you smile, a childish wonder in your eyes. You were so captivated by Soap's looming form over you that you almost forgot about Rudolfo - keyword: almost. Something wet had nudged your elbow, you turned and saw a smaller dog, ghostly pale with glimmering, blue gems for eyes. It looked like a mix of a lab and a shepherd, the combination making this white dog adorable.

Your eyes observed the whole length of it, from its head to its tail, a long whisp-like swirl that turns blur at the end. It connected the dog to Rodolfo. You didn't know what the dog was. Was it a spirit? Or was it a familiar?

"Cadejos, Hunter," Rudolfo answered your silent question, smirking at your petting the spirit with one hand while the other scratched behind Soap's twitching ear. "Dog spirits. I'm their vessel."

That meant he was more human than Soap was, perhaps almost as you. You still gave him an awed look, amazed by the possibility of becoming a vessel for mythological beings and spirits.

You only truly found out whether or not Ghost was human or a monster on a mission. You were sent along with a team led by your Lieutenant to capture a standing AQ cell, one of the few that still stood without their leader.

You were, along with other sergeants, corporals, and privates, separated into two teams, Alpha and Bravo, one led by a sergeant and the other by Ghost. He had you follow him close, a way to watch how you did on the field. You made quick work of them, they were weak, disorganized, and fought with each other when they had no one to lead them. A pity for what used to be a big problem.

You were left on your own, Ghost having gone north to search for something. You had taken down the surviving men, pouncing on them in the dark. When you were done, you wiped your blade on your forearm, cleaning it from the iron stench of blood.

"Could've left one alive, Hunter," Ghost's deep growl made you jump, twisting to meet his dark eyes. They seemed endlessly black, like a void of darkness. "I'm bloody hungry..."

He crept closer, steps slow and purposeful, as if trying to spook you. He stopped before a fresh body, one you muffled and stabbed. The body was still warm, blood pooling from the wound and eyes glossed over with death.

"Hungry, sir?" you asked, unsure of what he meant or if he had muttered it to himself.

He hadn't replied, head turning to examine the rest of the corpses, strewn around you like a gift. A growl rumbled in his chest, mist rolling off his body like a crashing wave. It filled the area around you and tickled your feet in its cold, dark embrace. You watched the fog cover the laying corpses, dissolving and swallowing them into its murkiness.

When he meant by hungry, he actually meant eating humans, you shouldn't have been surprised, a was a wraith hybrid. Spirits of the dead that hate and haunted the living. It made more sense when he told you to let one alive, wraiths preferred living souls, dead ones were still filling but tasted lesser.

"Clean kills, " he finally spoke, his voice a timber lower than it was before his dinner. "Good job, corporal."

You nodded at him, stomach fluttering with his compliment, a praise from such a man - monster - was a prize, something he rarely gave to other soldiers. You smiled under your gaiter, you wore it for better protection in the sandy deserts of Al Mazrah.

"I'll remember leaving some alive next time, L.T."

He craned his head to look at you before he left, eyes squinted in what seemed like a smirk - devilish, you hoped - and gave you a firm nod. You scrambled to follow him, watching his broad, dark back as you walked a few steps behind him. He hadn't spoken a word to you since you got to exfil, but once you landed at the base, he motioned for you to follow him with the jerk of his wrist.

Ghost wasn't so bad if you got past the glaring image of danger he portrayed and the growls he gave. You couldn't wait to work with him again or with the others.

Gaz was a harpy, a very interesting and useful monster to have on your team. He was nice, not as chatty as Soap was, but he talked to you and smiled your way. His caramel-dipped smiles were to die for. He was easy to talk to, by far easier than your lieutenant had been at the start.

You saw him a lot in the rec room, sipping on tea or scrolling through pages on his phone. He was comfortable with you as you were with him, he let his talons out, lounging with his wings across the couch or over your lap as you cleaned them for him. The ever-so-teasing gentleman had a way with his words and his wits, often leaving you flustered or annoyed at his jabs.

Being a harpy meant he was light, bones hollow yet sturdy enough for a human body fitting his strong and slimmer frame. He could fly, and he became much more agile, more so than Soap's werewolf form (birds were naturally more graceful than canines) and he had a telescopic vision, razor-sharp and precise, more than any humans or monsters could have, it rivaled the falcon's keen sight.

If he was so light, agile, and all-seeing, without forgetting he could fly, how did he manage to fall from a helicopter not once, but twice? That question bothered you often, lingering at the back of your mind like a ghost (more so than the wraith himself that kept appearing at random and old moments behind you).

"You can fly, right?" you stared at his face, blank of any expression after finally mustering the courage to ask him.

"These wings aren't just for show, " Gaz hummed, leaning back into the chair that he brought out to watch Soap and Ghost spar. You would have your turn with the wraith after their matches.

"Then how do you manage to fall from a heli twice?" you shot, brows scrunched in a frown, confused.

His wings jerked, black feathers twitching at the reminder - an embarrassing one - of falling out, smiling sheepishly. He simply shrugged, every limb stretching, his wings lengthening to his whole span and toed talons stretching and curling. You were struck by its sharpness, his long nails and claws could cut a man in half, or completely sever a limb off.

You guess you'll never have an answer to your question, he could keep his pride and you could keep your question to yourselves. You wouldn't mind doing so, he let you preen his wings, you could touch those soft feathers and pluck dead or broken ones from his perfect plumage.

Alejandro Vargas, an unmarried and very eligible bachelor with a smooth tongue and a growl of a Mexican accent. He seemed almost too real to be true when he smiled charmingly your way, his perfect, white teeth glimmering under the yellow bulbs and his shiny, sweat-coated skin glowing golden after a mission.

Alejandro's a chivalrous person - and they said chivalry was dead - he's caring and protective. The Los Vaqueros, cowboys, were his team in Las Almas, a family that grew with every new batch of recruits and men and women devoted to the small village they grew up in. Mexicans were a tight-knit community from what you've seen in Alejandro's and Rudolfo's stories.

He was good, handsome, and strong, maybe too perfect to be human, and human, he wasn't. He's a shifter, like Soap, a full-bodied shifter from human to monster. Not unlike his human side, his Nagual side was mighty and honorable, a greater man and an even greater Nagual.

Although solitary by nature, Alejandro was a sociable character, the life of the party if he could, but he was also a responsible man. He was tall, but taller when shifted, claws sharp and a tail helped him balanced.

Once, you'd seen him shift, yellow and brown-dotted fur sprouting from his skin. His lower jaw had protruding canines, standing proudly over the ridge of his nose. He looked like a jaguar hybrid, wearing his golden fur like a crown

His other one, a panther, a jaguar born with more melanin than the usual one, was just as majestic. His fur was a darkened grey with black spots dotting his back and tail. He tended to use this form in darker places, or at night, hitting for efficiency and silence.

Captain Price, you knew he was a monster since your arrival, his long, green tail dragging behind him. You never bothered asking whether he was a lizard or a dragon, you only knew that his scaly tail was reptile-like in origin.

His smoking habit, girthy cigars burning and smoking at the edge, his chapped lips wrapped around the base of it as dark smoke leaked from the sides of his lips, curling in the air and around his beard.

Sometimes, there would be smoke without his cigar being lighted, a dry and unlit stick that still smoked. Charred gas, too dark to simply be cigar smoke. It came from him, inside, you concluded. Dragons could breathe fire and smoke, create it from within and push it out. Stirring around the mass of heat could feel overwhelming, warm, and uncomfortable without a release.

"Why cigars?" Price coccked his head, bro lifted at your question. "Helps me curb the need to burn." He breathed out another cloud, watching it swirl around his golden eyes. He explained it well and simply. Though he also liked the taste of it, an authentic, earthy texture.

Other than the occasional scales here and there that popped out, you've never seen his shift. Did he turn and grow like Soap and Alejandro? Did he change like Ghost and Gaz? Or did he have a dragon spirit? You were, albeit worried about prying, curious about your Captain's change.

Your chance appeared when he called you to his office, wanting your help with something related to his wing- wings? You weren't expecting much, maybe seeing a glimpse of the tip of his wings or the sharp edge of his horns.

He was leaning against his desk when you knocked on his door, letting you in with a sharp grunt. He was hunched over his desk, his wing, green and wide, stretched out. His bucket hat laying on his table, letting his horns grow out and curve upwards, both green and shiny. His tail was violently and anxiously swishing back and forth, hands and arms overturned with scales. His fingers turned green and callused, his nails became sharp claws and tinted green.

"You've got softer hands than any of those blokes, Hunter," Price said, his reason for calling you was for your talented hands, skilled at massages and with the knife. "Lost it in a crash, 's fine."

Although for a reason, you still got to see every part of him, hear the story behind his missing wing, and share a few pleasantries. He groans and grunts during your sessions, but the muscles on his back were less tense and strained.

Price wasn't one to brag about himself, tell his exploits to others, but yours, he did, how skilled your hands were at loosening the knots on his back and shoulders, turning them putty under your palms. Soap had come rushing, following your scent until he found you, for a massage like the one Price got.

You sighed, this wasn't what you signed up for, the sudden rush of adrenaline or scares they would cause, popping or jumping out of nowhere when you had your back turned. Some - Soap, Rudy, and Gaz - were mischievously childish, loving pranks as much as they did them. You'd get white hair before you hit your late 20s.

Fortunately, the three others were far more mature, one charming, one broody, and one proud. You don't regret joining, even with being the weakest and only human in the Task Force, the 141 was your family, a dysfunctional one with an occupational hazard, but still a little family.

After all, big, broad men working by your side on a daily had its perks, and brought a big, horny problem.

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cloudsmateria · 2 months ago

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double agent! leon kennedy x reader

i actually really love this fic i wrote I'm proud of it tbh.

summary: you have been fucking your roommate, leon kennedy. little does he know you work for the british government as an agent against America, little do you know, he's an american spy. you finally tell him how you feel, with a mixed response of a fear of commitment and confusion about these feelings for the first time in 6 years, battling suspicions from both sides.

warnings: spicy smut, porn with a lot of plot

You and Leon had been participating in flatcest for the past two months and your feelings for him had been festering for at least another two before that. When you had both first moved in you managed to work your way around that awkward phase by going out at night after your shifts to grab a bite to eat and you had kicked it off instantly.

The reason you opted for a roommate was because the nature of your job as an agent had meant you were rarely home anyway, why would you waste money on rent? Not soon after meeting Leon through a mutual friend of Jill you found that he was also rarely home since he worked for a global weapons company rather high up and said he had a lot of abroad business trips, but your holidays and spontaneous days off had always managed to line up.

This week after you finished your mentally draining mission you went into Leon’s room who had just gotten back from his shift, rather than going to your own. He was at his desk finishing up paperwork at his desk and sipping at his coffee.

“How was work?”

“Miserable.” You mumbled, changing out of the jeans and top you had changed into at work after your shower to avoid suspicion of going onto public transport, coming home in full tactical gear, and smelling like days of brewing body odour and gunpowder. You took one of the shirts out of his wardrobe and fell onto his bed, which made him smile.

“Want to talk about it?”

“That stupid bitch Graves couldn’t stop giving me shit the entire time when he was doing barely anything compared to me, he just- Ugh. I don’t even know how to explain my co-workers sometimes, there are some truly insufferable characters.” You had told Leon that you were an aircraft mechanic as it was one of the only things you had an idea of what was going on in that profession as your dad was one, it also excused coming home looking like you had lived in a cave for the past few years when you were on the verge of passing out let alone having the energy to shower at work.

He lets out a light laugh. “Insufferable characters? You wouldn’t last a day working with my team.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” You whisper, so quiet there was no way he could’ve heard, forgetting of his abnormally good hearing.

“Hm? What was that?” He grins, turning around his chair.

“I think you’re the one who wouldn’t last a day at my job.”

“Oh really? What couldn’t I survive at your difficult job?”

“The imminent threat of death.” You say sarcastically, making him laugh at the irony knowing he almost got stabbed last week. “You’d blow something up for sure.” Sounds pretty accurate.

“I wouldn’t survive a day there because I’d always be distracted by you. Can’t even focus on my paperwork right now.” He says, getting out of his chair and sitting on the side of the bed to cup your face, leaning down to kiss you. You wrap your arms around him and kiss him back until he eventually drags himself away with a final kiss on your head before getting up.

“You’re not taking me away from my work this time, I need to finish it.”

“I was going to sleep anyway.”

“I’ll join you in an hour.”

You nod and toss over, closing your eyes and falling asleep in an instant. The next time you opened your eyes, you felt the weight of Leon sinking into the bed next to you, both of you being such light sleepers. You wrapped your arm and leg over him, placing your head on his bare chest and kissing his cheek, prompting him to duck his head down to meet your lips.

“I missed you on your trip.” He muttered in the brief interval of you both pulling away.

“Shut up, you’re going to make me think you’re in love with me.” He only smiled and rolled over, in a position on top of you where he could slip his hand up your baggy shirt to hold your trace his fingers along your waist as his mouth slowly worked down to your neck.

The soft pads of his fingers eventually met with the delicate mounds of your chest, gently pinching the bud and rolling it between his fingers, all whilst marking your neck. He tried to remove your shirt, but you knew his weirdly good vision, he would see your body littered with bruises, cuts and other trinkets you acquired on your body over the last week. You stop his hand, holding it in place and shaking your head to avoid any questions from him which would be impossible to explain.

“You okay?”

“Just- want to keep my shirt on today.” He nods reluctantly, slightly sensing the off-tone of your voice.

“Something off today?” He asks while trailing his fingers down to the lower parts of your body instead.

You shake your head, leaning up to capture his lips and avoid his questions, he seems concerned but you make quick work of getting him distracted, letting his hand continue its path down your body, pulling off your shorts, slipping his hand under the waistband.

His finger traced circles on your clit, his teeth gently biting down on your bottom lip as he slips a finger into you, making you gasp and your body instinctively buck up to meet his finger. His fingers were so thick, so talented and always like heaven, he watched your face change as he started moving, you clamping around him, completely drenched.

"Oh, you really missed me." He smirked, making you bite your lip. He slipped a second finger in, curling them up and hitting that spot inside you, you gripped onto his arm as your hips continued to move with him, his mouth back at your neck, sucking and nipping. Your free hand was buried into his hair, the other still holding onto his forearm.

He was driving you crazy, your breathing becoming heavier and louder as your nails dug into his arm, he moved faster, you were practically soaking his fingers, the sound was filthy.

"I had a long mission." You say embarrassed. He pulls his fingers out of you and holds them in front of your mouth.

"Open."

You part your lips slightly, and he shoves his fingers into your mouth. You start licking his fingers, tasting yourself on him, wrapping your tongue around him, looking into his eyes, they were dark and hungry, watching his fingers move in and out of your mouth, watching the way you sucked and licked them clean.

"Fuck, did I miss you too." He groaned, slipping his fingers out and leaning down to kiss you, he could still taste the slight tinge of you on his lips. You wrapped your legs around him, he pulled away, his eyes scanning your neck and then back up to meet your eyes, his hand slipped up your shirt to grab at your breast, his thumb gently grazing the scab he could feel under your shirt. "What's this?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Did you get hurt?"

"It's fine, don't worry." He nods, doubtfully. You kiss his neck until he pulls away, ripping your legs open to kiss the flesh of your thighs, slowly moving up until he hits what's in between. His tongue laps against the damp fabric, you whine, he pulls the fabric aside and immediately begins lapping up at your folds, your hips moving with him, and his hand pushing down, pinning your hips against the bed.

"So impatient." He says, kissing it.

"Leon, please."

He doesn't tease anymore, burying his face into your pussy, his nose nudging your clit, his tongue flicking in and out of you, tasting you again. He pushes two fingers into you again, curling them up and moving them in and out, his other hand holding you down as he eats you out, you were squirming, moaning loudly, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling.

"Ah- I- fuck, Leon, I'm gonna-" Your walls tightened around him, the knot in your stomach snapped, a warm and pleasurable feeling spread across your body, he slowed his pace, dragging his tongue out slowly to catch the juices running out of you, before sitting up and wiping his face, crawling up the bed.

"Fuck, I missed that." He grinned.

"Shut up." You kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips. He moves your panties to the side, dragging his tip against you to get himself wet, before lining up and pushing in, making you gasp and bury your head into the crook of his neck. "Oh, fuck, Leon."

"Shit, you feel so good." He grunted, starting to move his hips, gripping onto the flesh of your hips, you held onto his arms, feeling his muscles flex and move. His thrusts were hard and fast, the room was filled with the sound of his hips meeting your skin, the squelching sound of you both, his grunts, your whimpers, his name constantly on your lips, his praises and his dirty words, all his sweet nothings that felt so real. Fuck, he was such a good liar.

"Leon-" You moaned, squeezing his arms.

"Give it to me, sweetheart."

"Oh, Leon-!" You cried out as you came, tightening around him, feeling him twitch inside you and warmth filling you from the inside. He slowed his pace, riding out your orgasms and then slowly pulled out, collapsing on the bed next to you, quickly getting a towel to wipe you both up. He slips back into bed, wrapping his arms around you.

“Leon…?” You ask quietly a few minutes later. He hums in response. “What are we?” You felt his body tense up instantly from beneath you.

“Where’s this coming from?”

“I mean… we’re basically cohabiting instead of being roommates.” He doesn’t reply. “Let me ask you an easier question. Do you like me?”

“Of course I do.”

“More than friends?”

He sighs. “Why don’t you just go to sleep? We can talk about this tomorrow, okay?”

You nod, trying to remain optimistic about it. You doubt there’s a chance he doesn’t like you unless he’s an utter sociopath. The way his arms wrap around you now must mean something, how he strokes your hair as you fall back to sleep.

Little did you know, Leon got barely any sleep tonight. Maybe managing to get a light rest at 5 am. He should’ve expected the question, but he didn’t. Of course, his luck evading it had run out, did he really expect he’d continue like this forever?

He hated the idea of talking about this, he hated the idea of talking about any of his feelings. Every relationship she had ever had in his life, his parents, mission partner, his ex-girlfriends had only ever left him or died. He knew he had been lying to you as well, the nature of his job he wouldn’t even be able to disclose to you. And it would only put you in danger, no matter how much your laughter warmed his heart, your presence at night shielding him from his night terrors, the way your small little intricacies and-

He hated the idea of falling in love again, but he already knew it was too late. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let this go on this long.

The next morning, he woke up at 9 and couldn’t get himself back to sleep, laying there regardless to give your pretty head a soft pillow. You only woke up 30 minutes later, squeezing your arms around him and propping yourself up on his chest to kiss his nose.

“Morning.”

…

After breakfast, you both ended up spending the whole day on the couch watching movies and then reading. Getting some food ordered to the house as you lazed around in pyjamas, but you could now feel a slight tension from Leon. He didn’t return as many of your touches or show as much emotion.

You put your book down, looking up at him.

“So my question.”

“What question?”

“The one I asked last night.”

“Oh… That question,” He sighs and closes his book, looking you in the face. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Well, flatmates with benefits… I guess the thing I’m really getting at is that I like you a lot, and I think we should be more than that.”

The moment of uncomfortable silence rips you apart slowly. When he looks at you, he can see Ada, Claire, his ex, every single woman who has ruined him, every single time it’s never worked out. He can see the pain on your face when he eventually tells you who he’s working for, and he can see the pain on your face now.

He shifts his eyes down, and his next words come out slowly, thinking deeply about his response. “You want me… But you wouldn’t want us…”

“What? Leon, I love what we have. I love us right now.” You say, holding his hands, looking into his eyes deeply as he looks back up at you.

“Then we can keep what we have.” He says, softly.

“Right… Okay… I’m sorry I think I was just getting the wrong idea.” You say, leaning back on the coach defeatedly, out of it as you think back disappointedly. There’s no way you could have gotten the wrong idea, were you an idiot?

“Please don’t take it the wrong way.” He said, sitting up to cup your face, only this time you sat there still, no reaction, so unlike you, it already hurt him and he should’ve expected this, yet he can’t get over it. “I like you so much, I think you’re wonderful. And it’s me, it’s not you. You don’t want me. You know how often I’m out with my job.”

“So am I, I just thought we’d go together well. Low maintenance relationship, similar dedication to our jobs, our holidays usually line up as well.”

“But that could change at any time.” He sighs deeply. “I just don’t think that it’s a good time for me to get into a relationship, as much as I would love to, with you.” He watches you bite your lip, nodding your head slowly. For fucks sake, how is it that he manages to ruin every good thing in his life? To hurt every good thing in his life when he knows that this couldn’t go anywhere? Now he’s fucking lying to you too, relationships scare him more than anything, he hasn’t even thought about one in the last 6 years, he couldn’t even admit to himself how much he loved you.

“I understand.” You said, standing up, he held your wrist stopping you from walking off.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t want to hurt you.” He knew he could die at any time, the fact he was still alive was a ridiculous stroke of luck, and it had been so long, that he didn’t even know if he was capable of loving someone anymore, it was already so confusing. “Please don’t let this affect you.”

“Hurt me? How could you possibly hurt me?” You said, frustrated with the vagueness of everything he’s said, left wondering with festering feelings and no idea what was going on. You knew something was off, you could sense it in his tone, something you had too much experience with dealing with, interrogations.

“I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend.”

“Well that’s a lie, you’ve acted like a good one and we’re not even dating, so what are you not telling me, Leon?”

“What?” He said, incredulously.

“You’re hiding something.” His gut twists, but he can act naturally.

“What are you talking about?”

“Is it another girl? Have you been lying?”

“No!”

“Then what is it? I’m not stupid, with all this vagueness you’re giving me, skipping around the real reason.” Fuck. He needs to come up with something.

“I’m not.”

“Say it.”

“I don’t-” His eyes drop down to your wrist, he was holding onto, seeing a deep scab under your shirt - his instincts take a hold of him, lifting up the sleeve and seeing the amalgamation of cuts, bruises, you pull your hand away straight away. “What is that?” He says, worried.

“It’s not important.”

“Is that what you didn’t want me to see last night? There’s more, isn’t there?”

“There’s not- It’s just.” He stands up, stepping towards you, and you back yourself into a wall. He puts his hand out for your other arm, not saying a word.

“Why do you care? I’m not anything to you.” He keeps his hand out, wordlessly. “Leon.” You say, warningly. You try to sidestep him but he grabs both of your wrists, you break yourself out effortlessly, and he raises an eyebrow at how you’ve done it so easily, with the exact military technique. He slams his hand against the wall to stop you from leaving, you try to step under, getting stopped by him again.

“What are you hiding?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything. All you’ve been doing to me is lying.”

“Show it to me.”

“Why?”

“I want to see what happened.” His hand grabs your wrist again, roughly to an extent that you can’t overpower. You quickly knock your legs between his, knocking him on the floor with his grip still tight on your wrists so you fall with him. How do you know how to do that? He thinks, and with such a graceful agility and power like you do this every other day. He rolls over, his weight on your waist so you really can’t move. To try to flip him with your hips but he keeps himself down, and although he was expecting it, you manage to do it again although with some strain.

He grabs your ankle as you try to quickly run off him, quickly putting you underneath him again, keeping his pressure firmly on your hips and your wrists above your head. And how does he know how to detain people so easily? It’s not just his strength, it’s his calculated movements.

“Don’t you dare.” His hand pulls up your shirt, to his absolute horror a bruise so dark it’s basically black covers half of your stomach, cuts on every inch, some long and deep. He had seen your scars, but this was fresh.

“What is this?” He says, looking at you. He had seen some cuts and bruises on your thigh last night, which were ignored, but it was nothing compared to your top half. You turn away, refusing to look at him in frustration.

“I told you to stop.”

“What is this? What happened?” You don’t answer. “Who did this to you?” You manage to split you arms apart, breaking out of his hold, and flipping him over again, taking all of your strength.

“Leon, please. Stop it. Haven’t you hurt me enough today?” He holds your thighs down against him, not letting you get up.

“Do you honestly think I’m enjoying this?! Do you honestly think I enjoy hurtning you?!” He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Please tell me, Y/n. I can’t look at you like that, I’m sorry, I can’t. I care about you.”

“I got mugged on my business trip and I thought I could fight back because of some stupid self-defence classes!” Is what you manage to come up with. “Now can you fucking leave me alone?!” You rip his hands off of your legs, finally getting up, you feel him coming up behind you and you slap his arms away. You see a call on his phone on the couch, you stare at it until it stops ringing. Hunnigan. Then two messages. ‘Call me asap.’ ‘I need you.’

“I’m so fucking stupid.” You said, walking back to your room.

“Let me explain.”

“I’ve seen enough.”

“Wait!” You slam your bedroom door, and he has no choice but to pick up that phone call. In a matter of minutes, he’s run out with his bag, and who knows where to.

Hunnigan had called him about an emergency relating to a breakout of Las Plagas in the lab, and he needed to detain it. He texts you on his way there.

‘She’s my colleague, it’s a work emergency.’ It’s been a matter of months and his job has already completely fucked up everything. But you? His head is rushing with you, with that little fight. Why were you so tactical? Why were you battered up? You must’ve been trained. He shakes his head, trying to chalk it up to some self-defence classes although it doesn’t feel right. He clears his head for the next few hours.

You’re stuck in your room in shock about what has just happened. Rejection? Fine. Well, not fine, but it was better now than later. But he saw everything. What type of questions does that bring up? That came out of nowhere, everything built up to that 5 minutes where everything came out, every doubt brought up in those 5 minutes. And why is he trained? Dear lord.

He tries calling you, sending you a message on his way there. You don’t even know if you believe him, she might be why he doesn’t want to commit. You groan, calling Jill.

“Hey, it’s early, you alright?” She asks.

“Are you free?”

“Yeah, I’m going out with Carlos to the shooting range. Wanna come?”

“I’ll be over in 10.”

“What’s up?”

“I’ll tell you when I get there, it’s a lot.”

“Alright, love you, bye.” You hang up the phone, getting out immediately before you can let yourself think any more about it. Jill had no idea what you worked as, making it only more difficult to try explain things. She was waiting outside her house for you to give you a hug as soon as you got out of the car.

“Is it Leon?” She said, knowingly. You nod.

“Oh God, what did that idiot do now?”

“He’s hiding something from me.” Her stomach dropped, Jill may not have known about you, but she knew Leon’s job and every single detail, the fact he had somehow gotten you to catch on was even more concerning given how good he was at hiding things, although she knew how perceptive you could be, maybe it wasn’t a good idea letting you both meet each other.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s, I don’t know… He’s hiding something. I told him I liked him because we’ve been…”

“Sleeping together?” She finished. “Thought so, we’ll talk about that later. Continue.”

“He said you don’t want me, his job, something about how I wouldn’t want us, it was just all vague and I can just tell. Then he got a call from this girl named Hunnigan and he left straight away.” Relief washed over her, oddly. Hunnigan was a colleague, at least he wasn’t actually cheating, and you didn’t suspect him.

“You think he’s sleeping around.”

“No… But, who gets a call from their coworker on a Saturday morning saying ‘come now, I need you.’?”

“I guarantee you he’s not sleeping with her, that’s his colleague and she’s a lesbian.”

“Well then I think he’s hiding something from me, I just don’t know what. And we got into a physical altercation.” Carlos came out, he was listening from the doorway.

“He hit you?” He burst out.

“Carlos!” Jill shouted, slapping the back of his head.

“I wanted to hear the gossip for myself!” He said, bashfully.

“Let’s just talk about this inside.” She said, letting you in.

“No, he didn’t hit me but he grabbed my wrist when I was trying to leave and saw some bruises, we fought as he was trying to see my other wrists and… he’s trained?”

Carlos and Jill looked at each other worriedly, did he just get himself figured out?

“How do you know he’s trained?”

“I took some classes and I was a cadet in secondary school. I can tell he’s literally trained, to perfection. So what the fuck? Is he cheating on me or is he a fucking… I don’t know, some kind of mercenary, assassin, agent?” You say, finally trying to put the dots together.

“He was a cop.” Carlos said.

“For 1 day.”

“He trained before that, and he was the top of his class. It makes sense.” You drag your hands down your face in frustration, leaning back on the couch. His training was almost 6 years ago, why would he ever remember it?

“What is going on?”

Jill sits forward. “You’re overthinking things. His coworker called him, and he was trained in the police force. Maybe he just doesn’t want a relationship?” Which would make sense, knowing Leon who’s afraid to hurt anyone, who would have to keep secrets from you for the rest of your life.

“He’s told me.” Carlos butts in. “He’s had a lot of difficulty with past relationships because of his jobs, being a cop, and the one he has now. His ex, of how many years he had broken up with him when he became a cop. His other one died in Raccoon City, he doesn’t have a good track record.” He thinks for another second. “You promise me you won’t tell anyone because he’ll actually fucking kill me himself.”

“I swear.”

“He likes you, he’s in denial but I swear he does, he doesn’t shut up about you and whatever you guys have been running around doing.”

“And you didn’t tell me, Carlos?!” Jill shouts. “And neither did you tell me what was going on Y/n!”

“I said he’d kill me! Because you’d tell her!” She crosses her arms annoyedly, that’s going to be long for Carlos later. But secretly, at least you’re off of Leon’s case, of course they have to do his work for him.

“He hasn’t admitted it to himself yet but he does. He’s scared of committing to someone else again and having the same thing repeat. He’s not with anyone else, he just doesn’t know what’s going on in his own head, I don’t blame him for everything he’s been through.”

You nod your head slowly. He wasn’t playing you, you’re still confused. “So what? What am I meant to do?”

“Just give him some time. Keep telling him. Try talk to him.”

“I… I don’t know if I can after what happened. I’m still mad at him, he tackled me for fucks sake, doing everything I told him not to. I’m still having doubts.” You end up going to the shooting range with them, agreeing to just try and take your mind off of him. You find yourself frustrated throughout the extension of it, it still hurts.

…

Leon was stuck on the truck to the lab, trying to clear his head, but he just couldn’t. You were trained, fine, you had an excuse for that as off as he felt forcing himself to believe it. Even worse, you wanted him as more than friends, he loved hearing those words come out of your mouth, but it terrified him. It didn’t matter anyway as he already ruined his chances.

He thinks about messaging you again, but he can’t. Those cuts and bruises everywhere on you play on his mind like a constant film on repeat, pissing him off every time it flashed in his head, it was even worse every time he thought about the fact you could let yourself get hurt. The argument had him heated enough to take it out with a rampage at work. What was going on with you?

...

Part 2 guys? I don't know whether I should continue it or not.

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secular-jew · 3 months ago

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I’m a Palestinian American. Here’s Why I Can’t Support the Anti-Israel Protesters. By Elizabeth Gillanders. August 16, 2024

Walking past Union Station in the nation’s capital, I recently was met with a heartbreaking sight. Vandals had defaced the Columbus Memorial Fountain with spray paint, writing the words “Hamas is coming” in big red letters.

Trash and signs discarded by anti-Israel protesters littered the ground. A burnt shopping cart stood off to one side with piles of ash beneath it.

Most depressing, however, were the three bare flag poles that had been robbed of their American flags. Protesters had burned the flags, the only remnant a charred piece of fabric atop another pile of ash.

This was the aftermath of the July 24 “pro-Palestinian” protests in Washington, D.C., organized in response to Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s address that day to a joint meeting of Congress.

As an American of Palestinian heritage, some expect me to cheer on these people. They expect me to condemn the U.S., hate Israel, and support Hamas, a terrorist organization dedicated to wiping out the Jewish state.

But these expectations don’t represent me, nor my family.

I inherit my Palestinian background from my mother’s side of the family; her parents emigrated to America from the Middle East. My grandma was born in Israel and later moved to Ramallah in the West Bank and eventually to Jordan.

After arriving in America in her 20s, my grandma worked hard to become a U.S. citizen. She learned the English language while raising my mother and uncle. She opened a restaurant with my grandpa, lovingly named the Chicken Pantry, in Hamtramck, Michigan. When that business closed, my grandma worked as a real estate agent before eventually retiring in the land of prosperity.

America brought my family prosperity. My grandparents taught my mother to “kiss the ground you walk on” because they knew what a blessing America is.

They passed this lesson on to me.

Although many seem to think that my Palestinian heritage should cause me to align with protests that supposedly are “pro-Palestinian,” it’s precisely because of my heritage that I cannot do that.

Israel went to war with Hamas in the Gaza Strip only after Hamas terrorists slaughtered 1,200 and kidnapped about 250 in a rampage of rape, torture, and murder Oct. 7 in southern Israel.

About 10 months later, as pro-Hamas protesters march in this country to “free Palestine,” they call for the death of America. As they burn the American flag, they burn all that my family has worked to achieve.

As the protesters pledge their allegiance to Hamas, they encourage a group that my grandmother wouldn’t hesitate to call a terrorist organization that operates with a strategy of human sacrifice.

Think about it. Why are there no Hamas military bases in the Gaza Strip adjoining Israel? Because the terrorists hide behind their own people.

They dress like noncombatants in Gaza. They establish bunkers in hospitals. They commandeer ambulances for transportation.

These actions are all in direct violation of Article 18 of the Geneva Conventions, the international pacts that set minimum standards during armed conflict for the treatment of civilians, soldiers, and prisoners of war.

One example is Hamas’ use of Gaza’s most important hospital, Al-Shifa. According to the Foundation for Defense of Democracies, Hamas uses a bunker under the hospital as a base for military operations. This not only makes the hospital a target, but takes medical resources needed for the sick.

In contrast, the Israel Defense Forces have given civilians in Gaza opportunities to evacuate and warned of impending attacks. No other nation goes this far to protect enemy civilians.

How can I support pro-Hamas demonstrators who wish to end the nation that brought my family so much? How can I back a terrorist group that uses its own people as human shields? How can I hate Israel, when the IDF has worked to keep Palestinian civilians out of harm’s way?

I believe it’s important to point out that, contrary to popular belief, not all Arabs think the same. Some of us do see this conflict differently. And our thoughts and beliefs should not be snuffed out because they go against the “narrative.”

To some, perhaps our stance makes us walking oxymorons. But we are proud ones, nonetheless.

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zepskies · 3 months ago

Text

Lost on You - Part 6

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: The pros and cons of tangling with Soldier Boy...

Song Inspo: “The Voodoo House” by Rick Springfield

Word Count: 6.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut and more smut, angst, a Noir sighting, death, and even some hurt/comfort if you squint.

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

🎙️ Series Masterlist

Part 6: Drowned & Spellbound

Countess was bound to get back at you for this.

You found that you didn’t give a shit as you sat across from your companion with a crystal glass of champagne in hand. You stared up at the tall arched ceilings and ornate chandeliers, the beautiful tapestries and landscape paintings, and most impressive of all, the tall, intricately carved walls of the Oak Room.

You’d heard about this restaurant, but you’d never in your life even stepped foot into the Plaza Hotel. You were now very glad you changed into a proper dress, as well as fixed your hair and makeup.

Across from your intimate table, Ben held his bourbon with a relaxed set to his shoulders. No doubt this was like getting a burger at Chilis for him.

“Enjoying the scenery?” he remarked, taking a sip.

You smiled a little bashfully. “It’s beautiful here. I’ve never been to a place like this.”

Ben’s answering smile was predictable. Stick with me, baby doll. I’ll show you a whole new world, it seemed to say.

“Sinatra comes here from time to time,” he said, pointing at a small corner stage with a piano. “He’s known to take that spot over there and do a tune or two, if he’s got enough whiskey in him.”

Frank Sinatra?! Now that was exciting. You couldn’t help but glance around to see if you spotted him, or any other famous person for that matter. When you heard a chuckle, you looked over and found Ben’s amused face.

“What?” you said with a smile.

“What, I’m not enough celebrity for you?” he teased, rolling his shoulders. “I stormed fucking Normandy, you know.”

You did know, but you leaned in closer, giving your amused attention. It didn’t take long for him to launch into an hour compilation of war stories from back in his day. You’d heard many of them before, but you made it seem as if you were hanging onto his every word.

You realized though, that you could sense him lying with your abilities. Every word that came from his mouth when he talked about his past, his achievements, his exploits in the war and how he helped Vought build a better America afterwards…

It was all complete and utter bullshit.

It took all you had to keep the incredulous frown off your face as you fought to remain invested in his stories. Okay, the one about him taking LSD with the Beatles during Woodstock was true, but other than that, complete and utter bullshit.

You ate mostly in silence as you allowed him to keep talking your ear off, just offering small interjections here and there while he devoured his steak. He seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice.

You supposed this was what it was like to date the most famous man in the world. No wonder Countess got sick of him.

When he finally rested for a beat, ordering yet another glass of bourbon (you’d lost count at this point), you took your chance to learn something real about him.

“So you’re from Philly, huh?” you said. “What about your family?”

Ben pulled back on you then, his expression falling closer to stoicism.

“What about it?” he said.

“Well, I just realized I know a lot about your career and the amazing things you’ve done for this country, but I don’t know all that much about you,” you said, meeting his eyes. “Like…did you have siblings? What were your parents like? Did you have a dog growing up? That kind of thing.”

You laughed a little to lighten the load, but Ben only softened slightly. It took a moment for him to answer you.

“I was an only child,” he said, again, sipping at his glass. “No dog. Money was too tight for that.”

Again, a lie, you sensed. Not in the first answer, but the second one. Who the hell lied about having a dog?

Or maybe, it was the bit about money being tight. You knew his backstory from the documentary Vought made of him back in ‘75. He was the true “rags to riches” story, according to the narrative, having grown up poor and struggling to survive. It was the one thing you thought you could relate to him about.

But apparently, that wasn’t true either.

“And your parents?” you prodded.

“They were normal. I don’t know what the fuck you want me to say,” Ben said, a little more snappish than you expected. You blinked, taken aback.

You slid your chair a bit closer, so that you were sitting beside him rather than across from him. You laid a hand on his arm, over his jacket.

“Look, I don’t just want to date Soldier Boy, America’s first superhero,” you said, looking up into his eyes. “I want to know you.”

Again, it took him a beat. But eventually, he lowered his glass back to the table and rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin.

“My mother was a singer at a club. A little crooner, like you,” he said. He eyed you with a slight smile. “That’s where she met my father. As the story goes, she was singing ‘Are You From Heaven’ when he walked in. She saw him, and it was like the uh…the fucking thunderbolt, from the Godfather.”

You smiled. All of this, you sensed, was true.

“They were married within a year,” he said, though he paused, as something distant passed through his eyes. “Pneumonia got her in the end. She was young…but she lived long enough to see me when I got back from the War. A hero.”

He picked up his drink again, maybe this time to distract himself.

“Hers was the last funeral I ever went to,” he said.

And that admission was the most surprising of them all. It managed to strike a familiar chord of grief within you when he looked over at you. You both felt and saw the weight in his gaze.

Maybe he was telling you this on purpose. Maybe he was, in his own way, trying to relate to you about your own mother’s death.

Tears began to sting behind your eyes, but you managed to blink them away. You slid your hand over his on the table. You felt him stiffen slightly, his body tensing up at your touch. You frowned when you saw the glint of wariness cross his face.

“I won’t compel you again, Ben. I promise,” you said. As long as you don’t give me a reason to.

Your hand traveled up his arm, soothing along his neck, your palm finally resting against his cheek. His green eyes stared into yours.

Soon enough, his wariness bled away into desire.

He hooked a foot around the leg of your chair and drew you in even closer, making you yelp in surprise. He smirked, having finally gotten the jump on you for a change. He wrapped an arm around your waist and brought you in closer.

You looked up at his handsome face with wide eyes. A blush dusted your cheeks, warming your face. His smirk softened around the edges, just a little, and he took his chance to engage your lips in a searing kiss.

And maybe this time, you were the one who was caught.

Ben peeled his lips from your neck to give the server a firm no on dessert, “Just the check.”

The guy was good at his job, and was back with the check within a couple of minutes. Ben slapped a significant wad of cash down on the table and guided you up along with him. Breathless as you were, you held onto his arm to keep you up right. The only time you parted from him was at the foyer of the restaurant, where the staff brought your coats.

A limo was waiting outside. With a hand on your lower back (and creeping down to your ass), Ben ushered you in first before he slid in.

“Head back to the Tower,” he told the driver, even as he was pressing the button to raise the partition. “And fucking step on it.”

“Yes, sir.”

You already had a fist in his dress shirt when he turned his attention back to you. You pulled him closer at the same time he leaned in to cage you more fully into his arms. While his mouth ravaged yours, sucking in your lower lip and dragging his teeth across, your hands slipped under his coat and blazer to help him shrug them off.

He similarly ran one of his hands under your coat, up your side and over your breast, squeezing through the fabric. You gave him an encouraging sound, and he dragged a sleeve down along with the bra strap to expose your breast. He palmed you with that big, warm hand, rolling the nipple under his thumb.

None of it was an act when you moaned into his mouth and squeezed his shoulders tight. At this point, it wasn’t just about the game. It wasn’t just about using him. Despite everything—his arrogance, his callous, asshole behavior, his lies—you couldn’t deny that you wanted him. Right now, he was the only thing you wanted.

His lips dragged down your neck, igniting your skin wherever he sucked and teased. You held him there with a hand on his cheek, but it soon wound up into his hair. God, it was softer than it looked.

One of his wandering hands made its way under the skirt of your dress and between your thighs, teasing your slit through your panties. Your breath hitched, but you spread your legs wider for him across the seat. You felt his smirk against your neck.

“Finally ready for me, huh?” he said. “Kept me fucking waiting long enough.”

He didn’t even bother taking off your panties. He just pushed them to the side and dragged his fingers between your slick folds.

“Fuck, your wetter than Niagara already,” he remarked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes because you knew he couldn’t see it. Smug bastard.

But he was withholding his fingers, just tracing along your pussy and teasing your entrance. Your core was already throbbing with need. Your hips began to undulate against his hand.

“God. Ben, please,” you panted in his ear.

Apparently, that was all he wanted to hear. You uttered a shameless moan when his thumb found your clit, causing a shiver down your spine and a tremble in your core. Soon enough, one of his long fingers slipped deep inside you, all the way to the knuckle.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered. You didn’t want the driver to hear you.

“I gotcha, sweetheart. Gotta get you real ready for me,” he muttered. “You’re gonna take my cock so well, I can already feel it.”

On his last words, he added a finger and curled them inside you, exploring your inner walls and finding that special spot that made you keen into his ear. His thumb worked your clit at the same time, until you clenched on his hand so hard it had you gasping. He swallowed it with his mouth covering yours, all while he drew out your first release with his fingers stroking inside you.

It was a solid preview, you thought, when the car finally rolled to a stop in front of Vought Tower.

Again, you held onto his arm mostly for balance as he led you to the elevators. Your legs felt like jelly when you tried to walk in your heels. Ben hit the button a bit too hard, but you understood it. Every second that ticked by while you two waited for the elevator was entirely too long.

When it finally opened, he guided you inside and pressed the button for his floor, the penthouse suite, all the way up nearly 80 floors.

A mischievous idea hit you. It had you slipping your hand under his coat and blazer again, tracing the seam of his belt. Ben glanced down at you in knowing amusement, but he let you unbuckle his belt without comment.

He just stared at you with a fire in his eyes while you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. You dipped your hand inside the waistband and slid a slow hand along the full, impressive length of him. You smiled when it hardened fully at your touch.

“Is all this for me?” you said, even as you leaned up for a kiss.

“If you can handle it,” Ben said.

Then he obliged you, bowing his head to meet your kiss. You kept things slow as you sensuously licked into his mouth. You tasted bourbon on his tongue before you broke the kiss, just to lower down to your knees in front of him. You held onto the back of his strong thighs while you mimicked what you did with your tongue in his mouth, just further down as you outlined his cock through his underwear.

Ben tried to cover his moan with a grunt, but you sensed his powerful arousal. You had his full and undivided attention, especially when you hooked your nails into the band of his underwear and finally freed his cock. You took it in hand and licked a long stripe across the underside of it, from base to tip. He shuddered. His hand shot out to brace against the elevator wall, shaking the entire compartment with his strength.

Your tongue circled around his sensitive head, licking up beads of precum from the slit. But just when you finally wrapped your lips around him and took him as far as you could into your mouth, the elevator stopped, chiming your arrival cheerfully.

He didn’t even wait until he had the door to his apartment closed before he dragged you towards him with a hard kiss. Your coat and his had already been cast to the floor, along with his blazer and tie. His dress shirt was halfway there when he hefted you into his arms effortlessly.

You grabbed his face and met him with a kiss fueled by lust and passion. You felt wild. You felt free. You felt like this was a sin you were meant to commit.

Ben forcibly unbuttoned his pants with one hand and kicked out of them while you broke open the rest of his shirt, scattering buttons across the floor. It allowed you to run your hands over his warm, tan skin, every dip of muscle across his arms and shoulders, and down his solid chest.

He smirked at the way you were eyeing him, exploring him.

“Like what you see, baby doll?”

“Almost as much as you do,” you quipped back. He huffed at that.

He walked you over to the bed, where he dropped you down towards the center. You yelped and how high he’d dropped you from, but you were smiling when he prowled over you on his hands and knees like a predator. His hands slid up your smooth thighs, bunching up your dress all the way up to your hips. You raised up to help him get it over your head. Your hair was already wild by now; you pushed it out of your eyes with a huff.

His hands slid under you again to unclip the bra. It was flung off to parts unknown, along with your panties. He paused in between to trail open-mouthed kisses down your body, between the valley of your breasts.

He turned his head to start toying with one pebbled nipple, swirling his tongue around it. Your fingers threaded through his hair along with your moans as he relentlessly teased your sensitive flesh with his teeth.

"You gonna sing for me, sweetheart?" his voice rumbled smoothly against your skin. "Pretty soon I'm gonna have you screaming for me."

He continued his exploration, his lips dragging down your stomach. And then…

“Oh,” you back arched off the bed. He devoured your pussy with the same tenacity as he had your mouth. His tongue pushed into your entrance while his nose brushed your clit.

Soon enough, your juices coated his stubble-laden cheeks and ran down his chin. His strong hand on your lower belly held you down while he finished his work, his lips moving to suck on your clit. His thick fingers pressed into your channel and worked you open.

You gripped at his hair tightly, cursing and pleading with his name, until you uttered a strangled yell. Your inner walls clenched hard as you came on his tongue.

But you were only able to take maybe one or two breaths of recovery before you felt the thick head of his cock breach your entrance, pushing his way in all the way to the hilt.

You gasped and bit your nails into his shoulders. “Jesus Christ!”

“Not quite,” Ben grunted, though he smirked down at you. “Now let’s see how well you take me. Still so fucking tight.”

Your core contracted around him, still sensitive and pulsing from your orgasm. He didn’t give you a moment more to catch your breath as he began a steady, almost punishing clip inside you. He was stretching you in the most delicious of ways, hitting places deeper than his fingers had been able to reach. It felt so fucking good, all you could do was hold on for the ride.

You wrapped your thighs tighter around his hips, digging your heels into his ass. He ducked down to kiss you, rough and demanding. Your lips met his sloppily, before he dragged away to bite and suck where your neck met your shoulder. You winced at the pain tinged with pleasure, but your eyes rolled shut as you grabbed a fistful of his hair.

Each of his deep strokes inside you was edging you closer to another cresting wave of pleasure. You slipped a hand between you to find your clit, but Ben grabbed your hand and pinned it beside your head.

“Look at me,” he demanded in a near growl.

Your eyes blinked open with a start. You met his gaze. Sweat lined his brow. His other hand was squeezing the flesh of your thigh, opening you up wider for him. You let out a shuddering breath.

“I’m gonna fucking wreck you,” he said, “But first, say my fucking name.”

“Ben,” you gasped, as he shifted the angle of his thrusts. The coil in your lower belly was tightening, your muscles bearing down and clenching on him.

“Say my fucking name,” he repeated, releasing your wrist to lay a heavy smack on your ass. The impact rattled up your spine and you jolted, accidently raking his back with your nails. You felt him shiver then. He moved his fingers down to strum at your clit.

And he got what he wanted. He had you screaming his name along with your release. His body locked up as a strangled shout fell from his lips. He coated your inner walls with his spend as they fluttered around him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, satisfied and spent.

He grabbed onto the headboard in order to hold himself above you, else he would crush you with his weight. You ran your hands up and down his chest more lazily as you each caught your breath.

Thank fuck for the pill, you thought airily. Because clearly this man didn’t care about condoms.

He eventually pulled out of you, making you shiver at the loss. He rolled off you and stretched out on his side of the bed. You turned your head to look at him. He gave you a relaxed grin in return, like the cat who got the cream.

In that moment, it really hit you.

There’s no going back now.

About a week later, you and Ben had developed a kind of…rhythm.

Yet another glass tipped over and shattered on the floor. He didn’t seem to care as he thrust into you from behind on his dining table. Your moans of encouragement were loud and genuine; your nails scraped across the stained tablecloth, incidentally shoving another plate overboard.

Your quiet dinner had been interrupted halfway through dessert. The moment you’d sucked a ribbon of chocolate off your spoon, Ben had reached for you, pulling you into his lap. You’d been all too willing to let him suck the sweetness right off your tongue.

“That’s it, baby, fucking sing for me,” he growled into your ear. His hand crept around your throat, giving a warning squeeze. You grabbed onto his wrist to keep it there. You held onto him like a lifeline. Sometimes you felt like his cock was going to split you in two. But his iron grip on your hip kept you from going anywhere.

His release ultimately hit him before yours. He grunted as his movements became sloppy, but he still pushed into you. You purposefully clenched on him, stealing his breath this time.

He let go of your throat so he could bury his hand between your folds. He rolled your already sensitive clit between his fingers until you cried out, your body locking up on him outside of your control. Your orgasm hit you in a warm, heady wave. Your legs shook, and you slumped onto the table.

Ben was right there with you. For a moment, all he could do was grip the edge of the polished mahogany and stare at the newly formed hickey on the back of your neck. He swiped your hair out of the way so he could see it better. He knew every mark that he’d put on you, even the ones he couldn’t see right now, under the pretty dress you…sort of had on.

“You okay?” he chuckled.

You huffed in amusement, despite your exhaustion. “I could’ve sworn the damn table was going to crack in half.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he remarked.

He slipped out of you, giving you one last smack on the ass. He didn’t bother to lower your skirt before he dragged up his pants and belt.

“Wanna join me in the shower?” he posed.

You did your best to fix the fallen straps of your dress and ruined bra, along with your hair and lipstick. You found your underwear clinging to a wall sconce. You grabbed that too and slipped it on, then you offered an apologetic smile.

“Raincheck?” you said. “I should go back to my place and get some training in.”

Ben rose a brow. No matter what he offered, you were never one to stay very long after a good fuck…

Not that he minded.

It was usually him giving the excuses to leave, trying to avoid the inevitable clinginess of women after sex. Still, this time he wouldn’t have minded the company.

Maybe next time.

Ben smirked as he drew near you again. He slipped an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against him. You held onto his arms and peered up at him questioningly.

“You mean to tell me you’re gonna walk downstairs, ride the elevator some thirty floors, and walk back all the way to your apartment with my come between your legs?” he asked.

He had to admit, the thought aroused him. Your cheeky little smile did too. Your hands came to rest on his chest, and you leaned up for a slower kiss. It was no less heated as your tongue slipped against his. You pulled away just as slowly, letting your teeth drag against his lower lip.

“Goodnight,” you said.

And you walked away from him. He enjoyed the show you gave him as your skirt swished against your thighs. By now he knew your every curve in intimate detail, and still he hadn’t had enough of you.

He knew he’d be feasting on you for a good long while.

News traveled fast in Vought Tower.

Especially about your little trysts with Soldier Boy. You knew by the too-polite smiles the staff gave you now, as well as the wide, cold berth Crimson Countess was giving you too. You had expected more of a retaliation from her, but you remembered that day in the gym all too well.

She probably thought you and Ben wouldn't last. Either that, or maybe she was afraid of antagonizing him. Maybe she was biding her time, waiting for her moment to get back at you. Either way, you weren't going to drop your guard around her.

In the meantime, Tessa was friendlier to you, and Tommy had finally stopped hitting on you. Swatto tried not to even look in your direction.

Mindstorm, of course, continued to be a hermit, but even Black Noir was more distant with you, which was the one change that disappointed you. The two of you sometimes shared conversations in the breakroom like you had that first day. You’d started to think of him as a friend.

So the next time he tried to pass you while you were making coffee in the morning, you finally said something.

“Hey."

It wasn't your most elegant start, but he paused, in that subtle way of his when his helmet was on. He looked over at you over his shoulder.

“Um…do you want some coffee?” you offered, raising your own mug.

Noir shook his head.

“Okay. Well, uh, how are you?” you asked. “Any exciting missions lately?”

Noir just stared at you. You didn’t blame him. You knew you sounded lame.

So you switched tactics. “Oh, yeah. How’s that movie pitch coming?”

At that, Noir tilted his head slightly. He took his helmet off, revealing his furrowed brows. It was like he didn’t know how to talk to you anymore, which confused you.

“I’ve actually got an audition coming up,” he admitted. “There’s this new movie, Beverly Hills Cop. It’s action, and it’s uh, funny.”

You smiled. “That’s great!”

“I’ve asked around, and I heard Eddie Murphy’s my main competition though. He’s got more experience in comedy,” he said, sliding a hand across the back of his neck.

You shook your head. “Yeah, but superheroes always make the studio more money. And I’m sure you nailed your audition. This could be really great for you!”

A smile flickered across his lips.

“Yeah, I think so,” he said. But the longer he stared at your face, the more his expression fell. “What the fuck do you see in him?”

Your smile fell as well. “What?”

“You’re new…boyfriend, or fuck buddy, or whatever it is you’re calling it. I mean, really,” Noir said. “The guy’s probably a walking STD. He doesn’t give a shit who he hurts, or who else he fucks, for that matter.”

Your lips pursed as you fought not to be hurt by his words. You schooled your expression.

“The idiots who get caught by him deserve to have their hearts broken,” you said dryly.

“But not you,” Noir pointed out. “If you see through his bullshit, then why are you with him? For power? Like Countess, you think you gotta be with the big swinging dick in the room to get any respect?”

His disdain cut into you, and like all things, he had deadly accuracy.

“I have my reasons,” you said. “I don’t expect you to understand. You’re a fucking man.”

“Right. Still black though, in case you forgot what I looked like under this goddamn suit,” Noir snapped.

Your face warmed with embarrassment, and maybe shame.

“You think you’re so much smarter than everyone else,” he said. “That somehow, you’re better because you’re afraid to get your hands dirty. Well, guess what, Sirena. You’re no fucking better than Countess. You’re just like the rest of us.”

Your lips trembled with anger, but you didn’t have an easy retort this time. Noir left you seething where you stood.

Ben reclined in one of the plush office chairs and folded his hands.

“Let’s make this quick. I’ve got shit to do,” he said.

You were more quietly polite as you sat beside him. Inside, you were wary. Why had they asked for you and Ben into a meeting together? It felt like you’d been summoned to the principal’s office.

Across from you was Madelyn, perched on the corner of the conference table, while Stan Edgar sat beside her in a chair. He shared a look with Madelyn, whose smile was unreadable. Arthur sat to Stan’s left.

Madelyn addressed you and Ben first. “Well, as you know, Red Thunder is about to launch next week.”

Ben inclined his head expectantly.

“We would never want to meddle in your personal business. However—”

“Spit it out, sweetheart,” he said, with a superficial smile. You shot him a glance, seeing how Madelyn managed to keep her polite façade. She was almost a better actor than you.

“We believe it would be prudent if you kept the status of your relationship…discreet for now,” said Stan. “Along with your breakup with Crimson Countess.”

“Why should I give a flying fuck about that?” Ben asked.

“Because Red Thunder isn’t just a political action thriller,” Stan said. “There’s also a romantic storyline.”

“You and Countess are meant to be in love in the movie,” Arthur finally chimed in. He seemed impatient with Stan’s roundabout way of saying it. “It’ll be better for everybody if you and Countess do the red carpet together, like we planned.”

“And the press tour as well,” Madelyn added.

Ben rolled his eyes, but you let out a small breath and nodded in agreement.

“That’s understandable,” you said. You looked over at Ben, waiting for him to agree too. You knew he wanted his movie to do well. He just didn’t like being told what he couldn’t do, even in the public eye.

He eventually nodded. You gave him a smile, making his lips tug upwards as well.

Yeah, you thought. We can hide this for a couple of months.

There were times when you could do nothing but blink at the sea of cheering people on both sides of the red carpet.

So many flashing lights.

You had never been to a movie premier before, and it was as exciting as it was overwhelming. A security team flanked around your group as your other Payback team members approached the photo op section.

Ben was just ahead of you, looking dapper in a dark green Armani suit. He was escorting Countess, who admittedly looked elegant in her Oscar-worthy red dress (not that she was winning an Oscar for this movie). It had a large skirt though, and it made it hard for him to even stand close to her while they posed for photos.

He had that debonair look perfected as he greeted press and guided Countess by the small of her back. She was giving a good performance herself, smiling up at him, occasionally rubbing his arm where she held onto him.

You would never admit to the sliver of jealousy pricking your heart, so instead, you focused on the poses Madelyn’s PR team had drilled into you as you took pictures alone. Your stylist had opted for something different than your usual black or violet color schemes.

Since this was your first red carpet, she wanted you to try something new. So she’d put you in a white ‘20s style gown, complete with intricate silver beading down the skirt. You felt a bit like a chandelier, but it did drape nicely off your form.

You shuffled along the queue of press and photographers. Black Noir and the TNT Twins were behind you in the lineup, while Countess was taking an opportunity to bask in the limelight, getting her pictures taken on her own as she showed off the billowing skirt of her dress.

Meanwhile, Ben had a hand in his pocket as he posed by himself. You sensed he was getting bored, even with so much attention on him.

“Hey, why not you two together?” a photographer called out to you and Ben, gesturing at you to get closer to him. You blinked wide eyes, but you did as you were told. Ben looked over at you, a smile tugging at his lips. He slipped a hand around your waist and guided you to his side.

While the photographer snapped away, Ben leaned over to your ear.

“You look stunning,” he said. His voice was smooth and baritone. “But I know I’m gonna like that dress even better when it’s a crumpled mess on my floor.”

You resisted the urge to bite your lip. Instead, you glanced up at him over your shoulder. You two shared a small, secret smile.

Click.

And the secret was out.

That brief, intimate moment between you and Ben became plastered across every tabloid in the city, and even some of the “respectable” magazines.

SOLDIER BOY + SIRENA SECRET AFFAIR?!

And various headlines of the like. Even Johnny Carson had something to say about it on the Tonight Show.

“Now, it’s Soldier Boy’s business of course, but if it’s true, I do feel a little sorry for Crimson Countess. Don’t you?”

The crowd in studio, much like the rest of the fans, were divided. Most women were sympathizing with Countess, while most men seemed to be supporting Soldier Boy (and you by extension).

This wasn’t how you wanted this to happen. It was no small amount of chaos from a PR perspective, and it had quickly made you a polarizing figure in the media.

You just didn’t expect how it would affect your real life, as you headed down Broadway after a successful mission. Not only had you stopped a man from shooting up a bank, but you and the TNT Twins had saved the entire staff and patrons inside. Without collateral damage this time.

You were just stopping off to grab a coffee from one of your favorite cafés when you noticed a woman waiting for the bus. She was glaring at you with a gas station slushie in her hand. You’d fully intended to ignore her, before she shouted something at you.

“Homewrecker!”

You frowned. Jesus, it wasn’t like they were married.

“Excuse me?” you said incredulously.

“You heard me, fucking hussy,” the woman said. She was wearing a red Crimson Countess-themed watch.

You rolled your eyes and aimed to walk past her. That’s when she tossed her slushie and hit you on the side of your head. You gasped as red berry syrup and ice drenched you and ran down your suit. It even stung your eyes.

Anger and instinct took over. When she approached you, you shoved her hard by her shoulders.

“Back off!” you shouted. You just didn’t realize that your eyes glowed with power when you touched her. You’d compelled her on accident.

The woman’s face went blank. Not only did she step back from you with her hands raised in surrender, but she kept walking backwards, all the way to the street.

Your eyes widened as you reached out to her. “Stop!”

You ran to her, but it was too late. Unfortunately for her, the bus arrived right on time.

You sat in Arthur’s office, your hands still shaking, your face, hair, and chest still covered in a sticky film of slushie syrup. He handed you a towel to clean yourself off and returned to his desk. It didn’t do much good.

“Thank you,” you said in a small voice. And you said again, “I-I…it was an accident.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. This isn’t our first rodeo,” he said. “The clean-up crew’s already working on the site of the incident.”

“What,” you cleared your throat. “What about her family?”

“Why do you think we have lawyers?” Arthur said. His smile wasn’t reassuring. “So just go back to your room, clean up, and relax. We’ll take care of this.”

Dully you nodded. You peeled yourself up from the leather chair, and you made the trek back to your room. You showered and got changed, but you still felt dirty. In your mind, you kept seeing the bus split that woman’s face into the pavement.

You were restless, so you got dressed into something comfortable and didn’t even bother with makeup when you went up to the penthouse. Ben let you in, though he frowned at the state of you.

“I heard what happened,” he said.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Tears stung at your eyes. You looked so small and fragile at that moment, Ben couldn’t help but soften ever so slightly. He guided you inside with a hand on your back.

“You hungry?” he asked. “Can have the chef bring something up.”

You shook your head and plopped down on his living room sofa. He made you a drink instead—a vodka soda with a lime, just like you liked. You stared at it, then you downed it all in one long go.

Ben raised his brows, but he sat beside you.

“It’s not your fault,” he said.

You set the glass down heavily on the coffee table and gave him a tearful look.

“How is that possible?”

“She disrespected you,” he said, with a note of darkness in his voice, in his eyes. “You had every right to hit back, put her in her place.”

You turned his words over in your head, but you couldn’t accept them. You didn’t want to justify this. You knew it was wrong.

Ben’s hand slid across your thigh, drawing your attention.

“If I’d been there, believe me. That shit wouldn’t have even had the chance to come out of her fucking mouth,” he said coolly.

Somehow, you’d already known that. You just didn’t know if it was his way of being protective, or if it was just him taking a slight against you as a reflection on him, as a man. Either way, it didn’t really make you feel better. Your tears bubbled over, no matter how much you held them back.

Ben’s frown deepened, though he hesitated for a moment. He tugged you over into his lap, where he reached for your cheek and got you to meet his eyes with your red and shiny ones. He captured your lips in a kiss.

If all else fails, distraction.

He worked your sweater off, then your bra, and guided you down onto the sofa. There he kissed his way down your neck while undoing the button on your jeans. You raked your fingers through his hair.

“Ben,” you whispered. “I—”

“Just relax,” he rumbled.

You fell into the pull of him, letting his mouth and his touch intoxicate you. You didn’t want to let him make you forget. You didn’t want to let this be okay.

But you couldn’t help it. You wanted him, and maybe this time, you needed him too.

AN: A little smut, a little angst, a little involuntary manslaughter. What else in the world of The Boys, amirite? 😅 But how do you like how her relationship (or not quite relationship) with Ben is developing?

Next comes even more supe debauchery, and a big monkey wrench...

Next Time:

You grabbed the nearest bottle of alcohol, went over to them, and subtly touched Countess’s bare shoulder.

Give that shot to Tommy, you compelled her.

With that small trill of your power, Countess stood straighter and beelined straight for Tommy. She grabbed him by the back of his head and surprised him with a deep tequila kiss.

Gross.

You grimaced at the sight, but when you looked back at Ben, he was smirking in amusement. He slid an arm around your waist and spoke closely in your ear.

“Let’s have some fun.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 7

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devildomwriter · 5 months ago

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Obey Me As Tumblr #24

Diavolo: I think we as a species should go back to saying “alas”

Leviathan: It’s like “yikes”… but with culture

Simeon: Yikes, poor yorick!

•

Leviathan: Guys I just realized the last supper was the first murder mystery dinner!

MC: My Roman Catholic parents did not find this as funny and thought provoking as I did

•

Solomon: I will cast a spell to make you have a good day

It is done

Raphael: Burn the witch

•

Solomon: There are five frogs staring at me right now

Asmodeus: But only one can be America’s next top model

•

MC: Bone massage…I want soft bones

Thirteen: No you don’t, bitch

MC: *jiggles and flops towards you* what? Huh?

•

Asmodeus: I have HRE (Hopeless Romantic Energy)

Solomon: I have HRE (Holy Roman Empire)

Beelzebub: Hambu Rg Er

•

Luke: Um u “like classical music” but you can’t even name any 2012 one direction songs? Okay

Mammon: This post physically hurts

Leviathan: Looks like we got a fake fan here fellas

Raphael: *sighs* should we exorcise them or just simply baptise them?

Leviathan: Are you calling me fat?

•

Mammon: You know what? I like you guys

Luke: Hey thanks! Can’t say the same for you

Mammon: I will chew the legs off your chair

•

Leviathan: I can’t be trusted with a large stick

Lucifer: You simply aren’t strong enough to handle the power of the stick

Leviathan: The power of the stick corrupts my mind with thoughts of bonk

•

MC: I swear to god middle school is a terrible concept. You trap all the angriest, most hormonal teens at their angriest age in a box and let them fight to the death and then Ms. Allen, the bitch makes you learn MATH, right after you got done watching two kids shank each other in the bathroom, like I can’t focus on this is just saw to kids go gladiatorial combat in front of people pissing

Diavolo: You live in the US don’t you

MC: OBVIOUSLY

•

Leviathan: Imagine if we all just started ignoring celebrities tho

Solomon: I can’t stop thinking about how funny this would be. Imagine Kylie Jenner posting a selfie n it gets 12 likes

•

Mammon: Country road

Leviathan: Let’s-a-go

Solomon: It’s-a-me

Luke: Mario

Satan: I admire and hate this simultaneously

Belphegor: Mamma miaaaaaaaa

•

Belphegor: Sometimes I think it would be beneficial to my self-growth to get lost in a cave for 7 days, surviving on moisture algae and my own thoughts until I find a dim light against the black stone and make my escape. I think I’d figure some shit out in a cave like that.

Mammon: That is WEIRDLY specific

Diavolo: I can arrange this

•

Leviathan: I don’t understand, are are you implying being trans in better than being a Kpop star?

Asmodeus: I’m not implying it, I’m saying it explicitly

Satan: This post feels like when you’re walking down a street and catch a glimpse of a conversation. What the fuck lead up to this?

•

MC: Behind every girl boss is another bigger girl boss

Leviathan: They call this a pyramid scheme I think

Mammon: I think they prefer the term MLM

Asmodeus: I think you’re thinking of wlw

Mephistopheles: Wulti level Warketing scheme

Thirteen: Good work, gals

Last • Next

#obey me shall we date #funny obey me #obey me incorrect quotes #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon #obey me thirteen #obey me simeon #obey me raphael #obey me luke #obey me diavolo #obey me as tumblr

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jaymadii · 2 months ago

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FAMILY MAN [O!Bakugo Katsuki x A!Male Reader] PT.1

Bakugo's hero agency was thriving - doing statistically the best in Japan out of all the agencies at the moment (shove it Deku). He quickly gathered traction up the hero ranking, he made it. This was his dream. The problem though, Bakugo’s area of expertise was fighting, specifically, hand to hand. Quirks that messed with the mind or reality always threw him for a loop. So when he comes across a man with glowing blue fingers, the hero had barely landed his first attack before everything around him vanished into black smoke. And he’s down.

The next thing he knows, he’s in a hospital bed, surrounded by beeping machines and a shit ton of people in white coats. He doesn’t even have time to process his surroundings before he’s being swarmed with people shining penlights in his eyes.

“Get the FUCK OFF ME.” He yelled, shoving a younger looking man out his damn personal space. He was hooked up to all kinds of wires and lines, yanking at them to get them off and out of his body. The sound of the doctors protesting was drowned out by him screaming over them to get away. He gripped the wrists of one of the doctors trying to stop his from pulling the IV out, pushing him away harshly. She fumbled a few steps away, holding her wrist with a pained whimper. “I SAID DON’T TOUCH ME.” There’s a magical freak out there terrorizing people and robbing banks and they want him to stay in this room? Fat fucking chance. A door swung open.

“Bakugo Katsuki.”

The room went silent. The doctors or PAs or whoever the hell all these people are suddenly shut their mouths. That voice. Your voice boomed his name.

The scent of an agitated alpha filled the room. And despite the sour note from the anger, he could recognize the smell almost instantaneously. Suddenly he could hear his own heart beating in his ears.

At the hospital door, stood you. You looked frantic and worried and pissed all at the same time, your clothes were disheveled like you had been running. Your left hand held a death grip on the doorframe while you’re right was on the knob from where you swung the door open. In the nasty florescent lighting of this place, a solid golden ring gleamed on your left hand. So many thoughts started buzzing at once. A wedding ring. You were married - mated. You were in this hospital. You just yelled at him. You looked almost exactly the same as the last day he saw you.

He didn’t know what feelings he was feeling right now.

It’s been years since Bakugo had last seen you, eleven. It made sense that you’d move on, mate with another omega, he made that decision for the both of you. He told you to go to America, to leave him alone. And from what he remembers of that conversation he wasn’t very nice about it.

You started to approach Bakugo slowly, like you’re unsure of what he’ll do. It’s now that he realizes that he’s halfway off this hospital bed from his attempted escape. Your scent starts to even out, the sourness from your anger fades with every step you take closer to him. He wants to speak, to say something to you. To fuck off, or ask why you’re even here, or what you want. But he doesn’t. He lets you come closer, because even after all these years your scent is still the only one that gives him any remote sense of peace. He’s always hated hospitals.

When you do finally reach him, your touch is soft. It’s like you’re scared, you put his face in your hands and your eyes surveyed his features. You seem satisfied with whatever you’re looking for because the hands on his face begin to thread through his hair and now you’re hugging him. You’re hugging him. You’re hugging him. Any anger still left in his body directed towards the staff or you suddenly lifts like a weight off his shoulders. You hold him close like he’s gonna float away with the wind if you don’t.

“You’re okay.” You whispered into his hairline, tucking your nose in on the top of his head. “I was so worried, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here faster. I dropped off Hinata and Ren with your parents.” It sounded like you were talking underwater. All he felt was his scent begin to mingle with yours as you scented him. It felt so nice, to have this feeling again, to have you want to be near him. He wanted to reciprocate the affection.

But he didn’t.

Whatever the hell was happening right now, wasn’t right. Bakugo tucked his arms between the two of you and shoved you away. Confusion flooded your face as you took a step back, your hands still holding on to his shoulders.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

—————

A/N: Hey I’m still alive and well okay

#bakugou imagine #bakugou x male reader #male reader #mha x male reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x male reader #omega bakugou x alpha reader #bnha x male reader #omega bakugou katsuki #omegaverse #alpha male reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo katuski #bakugou angst #mha imagines #katsuki bakugo mha #mha bakugou

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 9 months ago

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Little Girl Gone

So I Heard You're Back in Town (1)

Mob Boss!Natasha x Mob Boss!Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Mob Boss!Fem!Reader

warnings: 18+ Violent themes, Guns, mentions of killing, mentions of thr*wing up, smoking, Dark Natasha word count: 2231 a/n: Wrote this first chapter over the course of a day. It is proofread, but I am only human~

“Shoot him.” Her voice didn’t waver. It was demanding as she stood tall behind you, casting a shadow over you. Your hand shook with the revolver in your hand. “Y/N. Shoot him.” Her hand on your shoulder in a death grip.

You slowly, shakily pulled back on the trigger until the loud BANG reverberated. The body in front of you thudding to the ground, a pool of blood forming. The smell of metal and sulfur fill your nose as bile rises from your stomach.

Dropping the gun as you stumble away. You don’t make it far before the bile finds it’s way in your mouth as you clutch your ribs as your throat burns and ears ring out. You weren’t made for this, but she kept saying you were. Her hand on your back, rubbing soothingly. “Such a good little girl Y/N.” She assures you that it took less convincing this time and you didn’t get sick until after killing them this time.

You push her hand away as you stumble away. “I don’t need your praises Natasha.” You grumble wiping your mouth and head back upstairs to your room. The one you share with Natasha the head of the Russian mob around here.

You keep saying you’re going to leave. Get out of here, but if she caught you, you’d be on the other end of her gun so you wait and plan. Get everything in order before leaving in the middle of the night. Leaving behind not only Natasha, but the city for a long time.

=================================================

5 years later

BANG! You didn’t give them a chance to try and explain as the other two men beneath you try to scramble backwards. Placing the gun back in it’s holster you grab both of them, “Where do you two think you’re going?” Both of them trying to get out of your hold only for you to grip tighter. “I still have questions for you two and I suggest you answer them.”

“A-anything! We’ll tell you anything you want!” One of them managed out. A smirk crossing your face.

“Good boy. Now tell me. Where is Natasha Romanoff?” You voice and eyes go icy it’s a question, sure, but it’s also a demand.

A snap of your fingers and your right hand woman, Carol, comes over. Taking out the two men once they’ve given you the information you required.

You walk over to two girls, recent additions, Kamala Khan and America Chavez. “Girls I need you to follow up on the information we were just given and please be careful. Natasha is ruthless. Stay a good distance and if you spot her at all contact me immediately. Am I understood?” You look between the two of them. Kamala a smile on her face.

“Yes Ma’am! We won’t let you down.” You smile, ruffling their hair before seeing them off. You too could be ruthless with outsiders and that was all thanks to Natasha unfortunately, but the heart you had before wasn’t gone. Not one bit, just buried a lot further. You still taste bile, but it no longer comes up.

“Carol when you’re done here meet me back at the house with the others.” You let her know as she starts disposing of the bodies.

“You got it boss.”

=================================================

You’re lounging when the text comes through,

“Boss we’ve got a surprise for you!” It was from Kamala.

“What is it?”

“One of Natasha’s.” Your heart dropped.

“Bring them here. Now.”

Another twenty minutes goes by before Kamala and America are bringing in a girl who looks not much older than them. They were smart enough to blindfold her at least. They bring her over to you and set her on her knees in front of you.

Even without seeing her eyes you can tell she’s terrified. Leaning over you take the blindfold off, green eyes almost matching Natasha’s and red hair.

“Are you Natasha’s sister?” You ask. She shakes her head frantically. “Who are you?” You ask, softly.

“W-Wanda. Wanda Maximoff.” The name didn’t ring any bells. You study her face and the genuine terror that fills it.

“I’m not going to hurt you Wanda. Are you one of Natasha’s?” You lean back against the couch, keeping one hand in your lap the other stretching the back of the couch. She shakes her head and you eye Kamala. Who throws her hands up defensively.

“S-she offered me a loan...I’m a single mom I have twin boys and when I couldn’t pay her back she took me and told me I’d work for her, but...but...” Wanda started to cry and you leaned back over gently cupping her cheek, wiping her tears away as you shush her gently.

“I was once were you were. Natasha took me, changed me. I won’t let her do that to you. We’re gonna pay back that loan of yours. You’re under my protection now, understood?” She nods frantically. “I don’t want anything in return except to see you happy with your boys. I won’t let her hurt you or them.”

“T-thank you...thank you...” You kept your composure around Wanda. Leaving her for a moment to discuss with Carol what was going on.

“I’m going to stay with her, make sure Natasha or her people don’t get close.” You tell Carol who wants to disagree, you can see it in her eyes. “You’re in charge until I get back from this.” Her attitude changes after those words. “If you do anything I wouldn’t then you’ll be digging your own grave and laying in it.” I tell her with no emotion to give as she gulp's, eyes widening.

“Yes Ma’am.”

=================================================

When you arrive at Wanda’s house the two of you entering are met with her boys running down the hall to meet her both hugging her tightly. Then another face comes around the corner and your hand is on your gun in an instant, Wanda holding a hand out to you.

“Y/N. This is Darcy. My friend and she was watching the boys while I was at work.” Wanda informs you, you loosen up, plastering a smile to your face.

“Hello Darcy. It’s nice to meet you.” You hold out your hand for Darcy who hesitantly takes it.

“I met Y/N through work and I invited her over for some coffee and cookies.” Wanda lies and you have to admit it isn’t half bad. She doesn’t give away an telltale signs of lying.

“Okay. Do you need me to stay?” Darcy asks.

“No. Sweet girl you’ve done enough. You watched them almost all day so thank you. Go rest. Please.” Wanda hugs Darcy tightly before the girl leaves.

Wanda makes her way to the kitchen and you hear her start up the coffee pot. Oh maybe she wasn’t lying about the coffee and cookies.

You look around the house. The boys are in the living room, playing video games and remind you of yourself when you were younger. A smile on your face before carrying on through the house, checking all windows and entry points. You look out the back door, checking the perimeter of the backyard when Wanda comes up behind you.

“I don’t mean this in any offensive way, but will you be enough?” She asks and you can’t help, but chuckle, looking over at the mom you’ve found yourself protecting from your ex.

“Natasha was the one who trained me. I know all the tricks she has, but I’ve learned more tricks after I left her. She doesn’t know what I’m capable of anymore. So don’t worry. I’ll be all you need.” You smile at the redhead, a soft smile belying just what you’re capable of.

“Well thank you and I do have coffee and cookies. Homemade of course.” Wanda smiles, her nose wrinkling up as she does so.

“How could I say no?” You follow her to the kitchen island, sitting down while she stands across from you. Conversation flowing between you as the boys make their way out at some point asking if they could have some cookies and ice cream so they could make ice cream sandwiches. Wanda allows it and as she grabs the bowls and ice cream the boys bring their attention to you.

You give the two boys a small smile. “How do you know our mom?” Little interrogators.

“We met at work.” I tell them.

“How long have you worked together?”

“Long enough.”

“What are your intentions with our mom?” You almost choke on the cookie you were swallowing at that question.

“Tommy!” Wanda shriek's at her son. “Enough questions. Unless you don’t want cookies and ice cream?” Wanda walks over with the bowls.

“Sorry mom...” Wanda gives a cheeky grin pulling her son in, giving him a kiss on top of his head.

“I know you’re just trying to protect me, but I’m your mom. I protect you and your brother.” Wanda pulls her other son, Billy, you had learned was his name. Hugging both of them before getting the ice cream and cookies, sending them back off to the living room.

“I’m sorry about that.” Wanda apologizes and you can see the faint blush on her cheeks.

“No need. They obviously care and worry about their mother so I’m glad that I’m here. I won’t allow Natasha to break you guys apart.” You tell her, sipping on her coffee, your eyes flicking over to her and you can see the wetness in her eyes. She wants to cry, but won’t allow herself right now. She shakes her head, dismissing the tears from her eyes.

“So will you be staying? We have a guest room.”

“I will, but I probably won’t sleep.” Wanda nods in response.

“Well you can always stay in the living room?”

“I’ll need to be close to you. If they come here. They’ll come for you.” You remind her and a tint of red finds it’s way to her cheeks once again.

“Y-you can stay in my room then?” She offers and you smile with a nod.

=================================================

“Are you sure you won’t sleep or change at least?” You were still dressed in a suit from work. You’d taken off your jacket, tie and vest.

“I need to be ready if she sends anyone.” You sit on the bed next to Wanda, cupping her cheek. “I promise I won’t let her do what she did to me.”

“You keep saying that, but you still seem to have a lot of humanity to you.” A small, dry chuckle leaves you.

“I didn’t let her, but I can be rather ruthless when it comes to protecting those I love and care about. You just haven’t seen it.” You look into her eyes and she’s searching yours as if they’ll answer her questions that go unspoken. “Get some rest Wanda. I’ll be here.” You let your hand slip away as you stand up, moving to the other side of her room. Looking out the window.

Wanda laid back onto the bed, taking longer than usual to sleep, but eventually it came and you smiled at her sleeping form.

“I won’t let her touch you.” You whisper before making a round around the house, checking everything once again. It was going to be a long night.

=================================================

You stepped outside for a smoke, letting out a cloud when something caught your eye, just in the corner. You snap your head; gun in hand ready in an instant.

“Come out. Now.” You called and the figure came to the moonlight. Natasha. You didn’t falter though it being her threw you off and not Yelena or Kate or even Clint.

“You and I both know you won’t shoot.” Natasha says in a condescending manner. Your eyes narrow at her,

“You’re right I won’t, but not for the reason you’re assuming. I don’t want to wake up and scare the boys.” She laughs at your remark.

“Oh you’re funny Y/N. We both know you’ve never had the stomach. That’s why you ran away little girl.” You tilt your head to the side, neck cracking.

“That little girl’s gone. Honey I’ve changed so much since you last saw me.” She takes a few steps towards you.

“I think you’re in a little too deep sweetie, don’t you?” She says, but stops when you hold out the cash. “What’s that?”

“This is half of what Wanda owes you. You’re going to leave here right now with it and tomorrow I’ll give you the rest with interest and you’ll leave her alone. No more innocent lives need to ruined because of you Tasha.” She takes the money counting through it and laughs.

“You haven’t changed.” She said before turning on her heel. “Tomorrow. Noon. Our usual spot.” Once she was gone you could breath a sigh of relief as you headed back inside.

Softly carrying your tired body up the stairs. Stopping to check on the boys first before slipping into Wanda’s room. You slipped out of your pants and unbuttoned your top leaving you in just a tank top and panties.

You hadn’t shared a bed with someone since Natasha. You find yourself hesitating a moment before slipping in keeping as close to the edge with your gun just under the pillow. Wanda either had a really comfortable bed or you were just that exhausted because sleep took you almost instantly.

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