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sunnie-angel · 6 months ago

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Nothing Fucks With My Baby (Part 2)

link to part 1

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason has always feared he’d be the monster of his life. what he doesn’t realize is that between the two of you, you will always be the bigger monster, and you will love him anyway.

tags: violence, murder, implied child abuse, manipulation, implied sexual content

rating: mature | wc: 5.8k

a/n: this plot bunny took over my brain and wouldn’t let me go until i’d finished it. reader’s pov can get pretty twisted, so please mind the tags on this one and let me know if i’ve missed any.

Lucy Nesbit dies remarkably young. Only eight years old and she had drowned in a stormwater overflow. Poor thing, the adults had all said. Should have minded her step better, shouldn’t have been playing in dangerous places. The school had held a week of mourning. A tragedy. It hadn’t taken much effort to kill her. A sharp shove, then kneeling on her back until the bubbles stopped, and suddenly there went Lucy. Stones thrown at recess, scissors searching for your hair, harsh names and turned backs all stopped with just a few moments of effort.

The killing of Lucy Nesbit is likely the most important lesson you learned from that school. No one at the foster home had noticed you come home soaking wet, blood on the tip of your shoe. No one had asked you any questions when you didn’t gasp with the rest of your class as the principal announced the death of poor little Lucy, gone too soon. Nobody had noticed that you had been the one to make the world a less scary place. It is a lesson you keep close to you.

Only Jason Todd had noticed anything different at all. Found you in the corner of the yard staring down at the pavement during recess. Tucked his hands and looked up at the sky, squinted.

“Don’t need me to look out for you anymore,” he sighs. Nudges your shoulder with his and says “Lucy won’t be pickin’ on you again.” He’s right, of course. She won’t be doing anything important really.

“Sometimes I wished she’d die so they’d leave me alone,” you whisper. “‘Cause it was bad when you were there but when she’d wait for you to leave it was always worse. Does that mean I’m a bad person?” It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind before. Is there something so wrong, so terrible about you that the well-fed well-heeled could just look at you and know there was something awful about you? The same thing that led to getting left behind, bullied, belittled. Had Lucy Nesbit taken one look at you and known you were something to be destroyed?

“Nah. You’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be best friends with anyone bad.” He grins at you, front left tooth still missing from where you’d helped him pull it out three weeks ago. The bell rings, shrill and discordant, signaling the end of recess.

It’s only years later that you understand the tremble of her lips and the wobble of her chin before she would call you names, dig her nails into the meat of your arm, lead the other girls in pretending you didn’t exist. Lovely Lucy Nesbit, sweet cheeked with glossy curls, had been afraid. She should have been. The new girl who’d only moved to the Alley recently after her father’s embezzlement conviction, oh she should have been afraid of the children chewing her up and spitting her out like a rotten peach. Instead, she chose someone else to make afraid. The little girl with only one friend and no one waiting for her at home. All of that glitz and Diamond District shine wasn’t enough to bury the ugly truth of Lucy.

Jason Todd dies at 11 years old. He dies at the hand of the Batman, Gotham’s own protector.

Three weeks after Catherine had died and two weeks after he stopped showing up to school, Jason shows up at your foster home. More particularly, at the window of the bathroom you’re currently hiding in. The knocking startles you, hands coming away from where they’d been pressed to your ears to block out the fighting. He grins and waves at you through the window, suspicious smears across his nose and temple. You have to stand on the very tips of your toes to push open the latch but you manage it. He presses his face to the bars, hands wrapping around the solid metal.

“Jason?” you ask, tone tinged with wonder. “What are you doing here?”

“Jus’ wanted to tell you I’m okay.” Something smashes within the house and the voices raise. “Couldn’t stick around for long after the funer— after. Didn’t wanna stick around to see if they’d stick me in a place like this.”

“But what are you going to do? Where do you live?”

“Found an empty building that’s pretty warm. Sometimes I find stuff and Mr. Baker at the garage buys ‘em from me so I can buy loads of snacks. You know—” there’s a loud pounding on the bathroom door, staccato sharp, that causes you both to jump. One of the older foster kids yells at you to hurry the fuck up, then slams on the door again for good measure. In a hurried whisper, Jason continues “You know the old building across the park with the purple window sills? Come find me there.”

The night Jason Todd dies, you’d managed to sneak out again. Knew from previous trips the best way to get to the old house was to go out the back and use the garbage bins to boost over the fence. Jason’s not there when you let yourself in, hands careful to put the loose board back exactly the same. He does this sometimes. ‘Finds’ things to sell to Mr. Baker so he can come back with candy from the bodega to share with you. You settle yourself in to wait in the blanket you’d snuck out for him when there’s a noise from the lane behind the house. Clutching the scratchy blanket closer to you, you feel your way through the dark, breath held in your chest like a treasure. The slats nailed over the painted window sills have just enough of a gap that you can see between them without being seen yourself. What you see out in the night causes you to grip the old wood until splinters dig into your palms.

The Bat holds Jason in his grip even as he struggles, even as he swears. Jason’s angry, snarling face is nothing like his smiles for you. The Bat shakes him as Jason tries to twirl out of his grip, head lolling like a doll’s. Jason goes limp as he is bundled into the looming machine parked down the lane. The last thing you see of him is his eyes, wide and fearful.

Jason Wayne puppets the body of your friend for years after. He is not the boy that stood between you and Lucy Nesbit and matched her stone for stone. This Jason Wayne smiles for pictures without baring his teeth as a warning. He doesn’t remember cruel words or the way the world works. He doesn’t remember the lessons and the secrets the two of you had passed between you. No, this Jason Wayne doesn’t remember you at all. The only explanation is that your friend is dead. The fine sweet thing with his round cheeks and charming school uniform you only glimpse in the paparazzi photos printed in gossip rags half-melted into garbage heaps is not your friend. Just another leech of the city with pretty powder and paint, fattened on too much while there exists too little.

You get the news that Jason Wayne has died while at your third foster home since the one Jason had found you in. You find out the same way everyone else in Gotham does, the public broadcast of Bruce Wayne’s press conference. It steals the breath from you, the anger that slams into you. Heat surges through you and it is all you can do to uncurl your fingers from their fists. It hadn’t escaped you that four months after Jason Todd died there was a new Robin in town. That this Robin had a gaped tooth grin that would make even the dull mourning for a girl you hated seem bearable. The red rimmed eyes of Bruce Wayne on the staticky screen of the common room television confirms what you already know: Bruce Wayne is the Bat and he has killed your friend twice over.

Screaming into your pillow that night, your understanding of how the city works crystallizes. The Bat does not protect you, does not make your city better. He takes and he takes until there is nothing left for you. He throws out in a week food that would sustain you for a month, drops money on batted eyelashes and shiny new toys for him to destroy more of the city with. He is not the saviour some people say he is. He will not save you.

You are the Alley girl with the strange knobbly knees and the eyes that see too much. You will save yourself. You will keep your lessons about the ways the world works and what it takes to change them close to your heart.

The City of Gotham is never short of two things: crime and government money to prosecute it. Certifying as a court stenographer isn’t cheap, not with juggling your ejection from the foster system at 18 and having no funds to speak of. Second and third jobs keep you afloat until the scholarships and grants kick in. But by 20 your future is secured, government pension squirreling away into your accounts. You even manage to buy the house with the purple windows. It goes for a song on account of the murder that took place there all those years ago, but brand new flooring takes care of the more suspicious stains. It should be enough, to have saved yourself. It isn’t.

Every day you go to work and dutifully take down every damning word said. You record the lies and the horrors and the not guilty verdicts and every word you transcribe breaks your faith a little more. You have not saved yourself. The world has not changed, you aren’t any safer than you were at 13 and scared that the drunk man calling out crude words might actually carry them out on your walk home. No safety exists save for the pretty little lie you had painted for yourself. The only thing that has changed is that you are not scrabbling in the dirt.

Somewhere along the way, in the mess of bureaucratic paperwork that had become your life, you had forgotten the lessons you were meant to remember. Forgetting had not served you well. It takes a drunken night out gone badly to force you to remember.

A coworker pressures you to come out with the rest of the stenographers, a newly opened bar just close enough to the edge of the Alley to give the old money blood suckers the illusion of danger. The dance floor is crowded but you choose to stay hunched over your drink, wary of this glittering crowd. A man sidles up to you, rests his forearm against yours and offers you a smile that reeks of Texas oil wells and Manhattan construction firms. You look him in the eye as he fumbles through some pickup lines, nearly sick with the realization that he doesn’t recognize you. DUI, ran through a school crosswalk at the end of the school day, one child dead and two permanently disfigured. Got off with community service and a hefty donation. He wants to fuck you.

The police find him behind the bar the next morning, throat slashed and wallet missing, and chalk it up to a mugging gone wrong. He should have known better than to go flashing so much cash so close to where criminals live, the news anchors tut. Unable to withstand the scandal, the bar closes. You savour the top shelf whiskey bottle you’d bought at their closing, the same one he’d tried to buy you and drug you with, and attribute the glow in your belly to having done a good thing. His driver’s license finds a home under your living room floorboards.

The Red Hood arrives and the Alley almost seems to reverberate with the shockwaves. Still, pretty young things with a hankering for a bit of rough to tell all their friends about with champagne glasses in their hands and haughty titters wind up dead. You don’t recognize all of them from work, some of them you simply want power over. To reveal to these silver spoon fed creatures exactly how fragile their influence is. Disposing of them does not save you, but it makes you feel safe to know that the world does not turn solely around those shiny, fragile things. You are careful and you are not caught.

At the courthouse, you watch the aftermath of the Hood’s vendettas play out. Chat about cases with your coworkers between trials just to get a feel for what his game is. He’s an unknown to most of them, but not to you. You look at how the number of drug convictions of minors plummet this quarter, watch at how fewer pimps get brought in for killing their girls, note the way gang violence reduces down to just the Hood’s own orders and you understand. Whoever the Hood is, whatever he is, he knows the same lessons engraved on your heart. That the world is not safe unless you make it, and that the world doesn’t care what methods it takes to get it done.

Your first run in with Gotham’s newest crime lord isn’t planned. Quite specifically, you had never intended to make your way onto his radar at all. He had different plans, however. Taking out the garbage, you all but trip over his feet one late night. He’s slumped against your fence with one hand pressed against his neck. Blood dribbles between his fingers, dark under the fluorescent burn of the street lights.

The gun pointing at your head does not dissuade you from attempting to push him into a standing position.

“If you wanted to die in my yard, the least you could have done is climbed in through the back,” you say, voice measured and cold. “I’m not letting you bleed out in my front yard and make me a target for whoever carved you that second smile.” That jolts a reaction out of him, gun wavering from it’s unerring focus on your face. “So what we’re going to do is get you out of the open and then I’m going to call whoever you want to come stitch you up.”

A man of his size dwarfs the chair set in your kitchen but he will not be moved from his vantage point. Defensive, back to the wall and all entrances in sight. The wound still bleeds sluggishly. Determined not to have this man die in your kitchen, not when he’s actually out there doing some good in the world, you lay out your first aid kit and go for his throat. The gun jamming into the side of your ribs immediately lets you know just how badly you’ve not thought this idea out.

“You’re still bleeding, pretty badly too. I just want to take a look to see if I can patch you up long enough until whoever gets here can do something.”

The moment draws out, neither of you saying anything. With every breath you can feel the muzzle of the gun dig into you further. Something must read as sincere on your face, not that you’d ever be able to name what it was, and he reaches up for his helmet. Pushes a button at the nape of his neck to release it, before deliberately placing it on the kitchen table one handed. He smiles at you with bloodied teeth and, oh, that’s your boy.

“Well,” he rasps, “get to it.”

At that exact moment you press down with gauze, forcing a grunt out of him. Good. Jason’s scared you enough for a single lifetime. Trying to secure the gauze with medical tape and spite, you’re forced to lean into him until the feverish glow of his skin warms your own.

“Not afraid ‘m gonna bite?”

“I know you’re not going to hurt me because you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be friends with a bad person.” Leaning back, you inspect your work. Shoddy, but it’ll do until someone actually medically trained can stitch him up. Finally, you let yourself actually look at him. Behind the domino mask you’d swear there’s slack jawed wonder. A brusque knock at the back door interrupts the moment and then great big hulking men are carrying Jason away. You know he’ll be back.

The next time you run into the man who might be Jason, you are tripping out of a bar on the arm of your next pretty bright thing, too whiskey-headed to tell that you’re nowhere near as disoriented as you should be after what you’d knocked back. He knocks over a homeless man’s collection bowl and snickers when the coins get knocked down a grate. Grabbing your wrist, he tugs, pulls you into the side alley and tries to pin you behind the dumpster. The broken bottle shard is already in your hand when the man drops down dead. A neat hole in his head sending droplets all over your blouse. There’s no way dry cleaning will save it. The Red Hood steps into sight, gun muzzle lowered. And just like that, Jason Todd — not Jason Wayne — is back from the dead.

Jason kisses you sweetly for the first time after he drives you home from the traveling fair that had set up on the outskirts of the city. The feeling of his lips — soft, chapped, heartbreakingly gentle — slots something broken back into the hollow between your ribs. He kisses you and the axis of your world shifts. He kisses you, and you know that he will look at you like you are everything good and kind that you pretend to be if only you will love him back. The tender thing in your chest growing claws, fanning hunger into conflagration. Loving him will save you both.

He pulls back and you let him. Look up at him from below mascara-lengthened lashes and allow yourself a smile. Fiddle with the hem of your dress and tell him haltingly just how much you’d enjoyed the evening and how excited you were to do this again. Jason’s declared himself as yours for the taking and you will not let him slip through your greedy fingers.

You let Jason court you. Accept the flowers he brings to your door with quiet murmurs of appreciation. Wear soft dresses that invite him to touch but are just enough out of season for the weather so he’ll wrap his own jacket around you. Send him off to patrol with packets of his favourite candies tucked into his jacket pockets and laugh with him over the meals he cooks for you in the same kitchen he had nearly bled out in. You would have done most of these things for him anyway, but now they are your weapons. Each action meant to pierce another hook into his heart until he is as unable to leave you behind as you could him. You will never believe the world is safe without him in it.

The number of Gotham’s most elite reprobates coming to unfortunate ends zeroes out. You’ve got the prettiest up and comer on your arm these days, with his many scars and fearsome attitude. Jason in his many forms makes the world a better place, makes you safer with every bullet lodged in a skull. He is not the same boy that yelled at Lucy Nesbit for you or split a chocolate bar with you in an abandoned house. The cracks show through. Violence drips out of his every pore despite his hand wringing to you late at night. You are his confessor and absolve him of any sin. A fangless creature is useless to you, though you would grudgingly love it nonetheless.

The first time Jason sleeps with you, you engineer it, encourage it. Why? Because it ties him to you. Binds him through sweat and flesh in a way that nothing else but the kiss of death can. Lean in and wrap your arms low around his stomach as he drives you home on his motorcycle. Linger in his good night kiss before inviting him in to see how the flowers he gave you are doing. Sweep your hair away from your neck as you bend down to place his mug of tea on the rickety coffee table. You close your eyes and smile where he can’t see at the feeling of warm lips pressed to your spine.

It’s slow. It’s sweet. You’ve never felt like a more precious thing than in his arms. He looks at you like you’ve hung the moon in the sky and set the sun to burning. You kiss his scars and tell him to give you his stories when he’s ready. One day there will be nothing you don’t know about him. If Jason wasn’t in love with you before tonight, he is now.

You are told the tale of Jason’s deaths and rebirths only once, but it is enough to open up the yawning chasm of fear under you again. The world is not safe, not for Jason, not for you, not when so many of your enemies still walk this side of the grave. Gotham is safer after the Red Hood. Jason is still in as much danger as he ever was. The horror, the possibility that he could be cut down — by Falcone, by Sionis, by the Joker, by the Bat — it shakes you to your core. You want to scream, to rage. What you do instead is kiss Jason on the forehead and let him go to pieces in your arms.

Jason always says you bring out the best in him. If that is true, then he brings out the darkest parts of you. The parts that twist and grow cold until you see the world as sets of acceptable losses for acceptable benefits. In your eyes, any loss is acceptable for Jason’s sake. He becomes lighter after the revelation, no more secrets between you he says. Accepts your heartbreak on his behalf with teary eyes and a wry smile. The day he tells you that Bruce — his father, the Bat — had been the one to carve him open the time he’d turned up in your garden is the day he becomes wholly yours.

“Jason, Jason he shouldn’t have done that to you,” you say gently, cupping his wet cheeks in your palms. He won’t look you in the eyes.

“He was— he was lookin’ at me like I was the monster, like my murderer wasn’t standing there too,” he confesses. “I just wanted him to love me like when I was a kid.” He shatters. “I just wanted to feel safe again.”

“Oh honey,” you coo, shears tucked into your hand. “I love you, and you’re no monster to me. You know me, do you think I could love something truly evil? You do so much good, you help so many people and you ask for so little in return,” your gaze is tender, loving. “I’d keep you safe, Jay, if I could. And I’d do it because I love you. Someone that won’t do that, well, it’s no kind of love at all.” You see the blow land, have already calculated its trajectory and velocity.

“I don’t— but he loved me. He loves me,” Jason insists, plaintive and raw voiced. “Doesn’t he?”

“I think he might’ve once. When you were younger, sweeter. But Jason, everything he’s done since then hasn’t been love. If he still loves you, it wouldn’t matter that you came back different, came back changed.” You can feel the last threads of his relationship with the Bat fraying under the blades of your words. It’s time to make the final cut. “Can you really say he loves who you are now?”

Jason asks, once, if you ever thought about kids.

“I thought maybe I’d foster some day. Save some poor kids the same trouble I went through, so that others don’t run off scared like you did.” It’s a lie, of course, but you know it makes him feel better to think of you as anything but selfish. “Not now though, not with the way the world is.” You rest your head on his shoulder, curl your fingers into his shirt. “Besides, the life you lead is dangerous enough. It would be cruel to bring children into our lives right now. Maybe one day, if the world ever becomes a little safer.”

He hums, thoughtfully, and leaves the matter there. But the seed has been planted in the dark corners of his mind and one day they will bear fruit.

The house with the purple window sills is officially only a home to you, but Jason comes round for dinner, to spend the night in your bed so often, that it may as well be his home too. He listens to you talk about your long days at work, the court cases that worm their way under your skin and won’t leave until you purge yourself of them. Really, he’s more horrified than you were at the beginning of this at how badly broken the system is. You give no names, simply the crimes and the sentences, and even those details are too much to bear.

One night you come home from work silent. Red rimmed eyes dry and sightless, you collapse into him. It takes an hour, more if you count the time spent panicking over a hypothetical injury, to coax the story out of you. A snake in the grass of a financial adviser, stolen pensions, and three suicides. All charges dropped. The testimony of crying grandchildren still not enough to make a difference. It is the first time he demands a name from you. It is not the last.

The day your old foster father comes across your judge’s docket is the day the world finally feels less terrifying. He is acquitted, of course. The testimony of trauma victims are notoriously inconsistent after all, if the witness is truly traumatized and not just lying for attention. It hurts to hear his public defender say those things, but it does make what you have planned easier.

The moment Jason comes through the door you are on him. Clinging to him all weak limbs and fought back tears. He holds you gently and strokes your hair.

“I need… I need you to do something for me Jay,” you whisper into his chest.

“Just gotta ask baby.”

“I need you to kill somebody and I need you to let me watch.” He stiffens under you, but you will not lose him here. “D’you remember when you came to find me at the foster home, the one with the yelling?” He nods, presses a kiss to the top of your head. “That foster father walked free today, acquitted and all charges dropped. I need to know he’s not gonna stay that way Jay, that someone cared enough to stop him, or otherwise I’ll go crazy.” He exhales sharply through his nose.

“I’ll take care of him, jus’ like I take care of all those names you give me. But do you hafta be there? Isn’t it enough to just know he’s dead? I don’t wanna drag you down into the dirt with me.”

“You’re not tainting me, honey. You’re freeing me.”

You watch the man die, a slow drawn out thing as he begs for kindness. His pain means nothing to you. Only the final blow, dealt by Jason’s bloodied hands, shifts the burden of memory from you. You stop being afraid of this particular threat. The body is found scattered across the railroad tracks. Police mark it down as a suicide.

This victory is twofold. Your world is a little safer and Jason has killed for you, on your express order and with you as witness. There is no greater high than this, the power that sings through your blood. Jason will reshape the world to keep you safe. Now you will reshape the world for him.

It takes three more months of witnessing his work and not flinching before Jason brings him to you. In the end, it’s really quite simple. You ask for the chance to show Jason how much he is loved, to let you take care of this one thing to keep him safe. He puts up a token fight, insistent on keeping your hands clean of his business, but the two of you know that your hands are far from pristine. The Joker is bound at your feet by the end of the day. A quick drag of your wrist and he is just another thing to be taken out with Saturday’s trash to eventually be illegally dumped in the harbour. Jason sobs in your arms that night.

He is not the boy you’d wished to have returned to you as a child. Jason is not quite the Bat’s son, or the weapon of the League either. He is some half-raised creature of the city’s own design and you love him because of that. You know he does not see you half as clearly as you see him, but you will accept his wonderful naïveté for all the ways it will let you protect him. Protect you by extension. Jason’s trust, his devotion to you, it is everything you’ve ever wanted. It is more than you have ever expected to have. That forgotten little Alley girl, now the centre of someone’s world.

And so you plan. A list of names a mile long of people who make this city worse just by breathing. Kingpins and crime lords and all their networks, culled from your networks and court cases. Heroes and vigilantes who already work tirelessly to hamstring the work the Red Hood does, uncaring of all the lives he’s saved. A list that, when all of the occupants are dead, will mean you are finally safe in a world that belongs to Jason. Convincing Jason, with all of his infinite love for you, to wipe the slate clean of them all is still no easy matter. Instead, you let the Bat make your argument for you.

Another bar, another drunk cell-less jailbird, only this time you know that Jason is waiting in the shadows, that the Bat is in the rafters. The man stumbles, his too shiny shoes catching on the cracks in the pavement. Jason moves to raise his gun and a flicker of metal sends his aim wide. The man on your arm shies at the sound of gunfire but your grip is iron. A body slides between Jason and his prey and you refuse to let this one escape. The pen knife lodges beneath the jaw bone, catches on something and sticks. His death rattle is unsightly but he goes down easy, life slipping away down the sewer grate. A booted step, heavier than Jason’s, causes your head to snap up.

A wraith looms over you and it’s pure terror that sends your stomach into free fall. The Bat turns on you, advances until your back is pressed up against the brick. A gloved hand reaches for you but pulls back like stung when a bullet narrowly misses a finger.

“Last warning. Back. Off.” growls the modulated voice of the Red Hood. He prowls forward, legs eating up the distance. The Bat simply grunts. Back to the wall, you try to inch away, but the feeling of cold metal stops you. The cuff around your wrist cinches shut so tightly you can feel the bones of your wrist grind together. You whimper, high in your throat. Jason’s fist goes crashing into the cowl.

“I said back off!” the Bat catches his next punch, before returning a hit of his own.

“She just killed someone in cold blood, Hood. You’re protecting a murderer.”

“At least she did something, Bruce! D’you even know what that man did? What you let him do to this city?” he screams the last word then headbutts the Bat.

The alley descends into a flurry of blows, bodies colliding with metal and concrete. Neither of them notice you pick yourself up from knees and flee. Home’s not safe, not until Jason tells you. But he’ll come back for you. You’ve gotten so good at waiting for Jason, what’s a few hours more?

He finds you in the safe house he’d made you memorize the address of way back in the infancy of your relationship. Nerves have you sitting in the dark, too afraid that even a light will give you away. It is a cold kind of silence that blankets the small kitchen with its empty cupboards. Dried blood has started to flake off of your skin and you begin to pick at it. For a moment, the repetitive motions distract you until you can’t bear the prickly feeling on your skin anymore. With a clatter you rush to the tap, the trailing handcuff clanging against the metal sink. A stone rolls in your gut and you retch until there is nothing left in it. Everything rests on this. The future rests on this. You lean back and rest your forehead on the cool edge of the sink.

The sound of the window jimmying open causes you to jump, whirling around to face the threat. It’s Jason, only Jason, flailing around in the dark. The streetlights reflect off of his helmet, revealing the cracks in the patina. You launch yourself at him, fingers curling into the collar of his coat. He smells of blood and grime, but beneath it all, warmth. Jason crushes you to him, hand cradling the back of your head with a tenderness that overwhelms you.

“M’sorry I’m late baby,” he murmurs. “Why’s it so dark in here?” Unable to form words, you simply shake your head and press yourself closer. Fear has always dogged you, but never have you gotten so close to the source of it. Jason raises a hand and wraps it reassuringly around your wrist. “Let’s get some light and we’ll get this thing off of you,” he says while stroking a thumb over where the cuff digs into your skin.

You have to stifle a giggle at the absurd parallel to the night he tore back into your life. The two of you sat at a table tending to wounds inflicted by Gotham’s self-titled vengeance, the uncertainty of the future hanging over you. Hands gentler than they’ve ever been, Jason traces over the blooming bruises on your wrist, handcuffs discarded on the table.

“He’s never going to stop chasing me, is he?” you whisper, slow fear poisoning your voice. “He’s never gonna stop trying to take me away from you. Not while I’m alive.” Jason trails his grip to your palm and turns it over, brings it to his lips and places a featherlight kiss on your fourth knuckle.

“No, baby. Not while he’s alive.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood fic #sunnie writes 🌻

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justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 6 months ago

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When They Know They're In Love ~ Vagastrom Edition

I will be doing the other houses and will link them here once they're posted (Frostheim is already done). I hope you like this and if you did, please feel free to send in requests for what you'd like to see.

Fandom: Tokyo Debunker

Characters: Alan Mido, Leo Kurosagi, Sho Haizono x gn! Reader

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How do the characters know they're in love and what will they do when they realise?

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Oh, Alan knows what his feelings towards you are. He just refuses to believe them. He’s hurt too many people before and can’t bring himself to put you through that as well.

I think Alan’s feelings would creep up on him slowly but he really feels it when your life is in danger on the first mission the two of you went on.

He saw you in the clutches of the streamer’s ghost and fear and fury burst inside him.

He’s going to barricade himself in his room for a while after that, refusing to see anyone while he works through his feelings and what he should do. But not seeing you hurts him more than his fear of causing you pain.

Eventually, he’ll realise his absence is hurting you as much as it’s hurting him and will come to terms with the fact that he’s got to make things right by telling you how he’s feeling.

“This guy? In love? Yeah, right. With himself maybe.” That’s what Leo’s telling himself in his mirror during his daily affirmations.

He had a plan. Get close to the (admittedly attractive) NPC and show you off on social media for clout and to stir up drama.

Then, just as you were starting to develop real feelings towards him, break off any hope and cut all connection to you.

And then he just had to go and catch feelings when you kept acting so kind towards him. It’s not his fault he was so good at acting you thought he was being genuine. And now, it’s not an act anymore.

Leo’s going to be in denial for a long time but when he does finally realise he wants to be in a relationship with you, he’ll have to come clean. Let’s hope you forgive him.

Sho has a complex relationship with you already. He nearly got you killed because of Leo’s stupid plan. And you’re so supportive of his food truck, something no one else has shown him.

He's just started considering you a real friend when something in his feelings has changed.

So when he realises the sinking feeling in his chest is because you didn’t visit the food truck today and because he really did want to see you, he doesn’t really know what to do with himself.

He won’t outright tell you his feelings at first but I think he would get a bit more flustered around you, gifting you more handmade snacks and meals out of the usual schedule the two of you have.

He’s got to try and be subtle though. The last thing he wants is for anyone (Leo) to find out before he gets to chance to confess his love to you properly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

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#writing #fanfic #headcanons #tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader #alan mido #alan mido x reader #leo kurosagi #leo kurosagi x reader #sho haizono #sho haizono x reader

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astral-gamma · 9 months ago

Note

bsd x reader when some bsd men are talking to another woman or person and they seem to be getting just a liiiittle too comfy so reader get jealous and is clingy all day but doesn't speak and/or ignores them. reader can be fem or gn

fluff , no smut or seggs pls

chars: fyodor, nikolai, dazai, ranpo and whoever else you want! (but maily fyodor cuz i'm a s.i.m.p)

(i can see reader just dragging niko where ever she/they go but don't even make eye contact with him)

u wanted requests and i thoughts of this so you can do it whenever u want and also thank you!

Characyers: Fyodor-Dazai-Nikolai-Ranpo (separeted) making reader jealous ^^

Note!: this took so long yet i couldve done much better 'cause i dont really like it *cries*

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ──

FYODOR

Fyodor has been spending the whole day with this cute girl and ignoring you, it's not as we was cheating on you,you knew that, and you also knew that she Was just a pice for a new plan of his… yet he was only looking at her you kinda felt bad and sad. you felt a shockwave go through you as you saw him smiling with her, a sudden jealously that I had not expected. His enthusiastic motions drew her in like a magnet as he leaned in a bit too near. You observed from a distance, creating fantastical stories about their friendship in your head. What were the secrets they were sharing during those giggly conversations? you couldn't help but feel irritated by his lack of interest.

As the day went by , dusk approached, the boy with darker locks eventually decided to come back to the house you shared.

Your cheeks were still wet from the tears you had just cried, and you were already fast asleep, cuddled up under the covers of your large bed. Fyodor, who was incredibly smart despite everything, saw this and knew right once what was going on.He knew what was coming for the day when he woke up the next morning with you in his arms (obviously, it wasn't bothering him in the least; in fact, he was just glad to have you close)... He probably knew that you had no intention of leaving him for at all, and for the rest of the day, Fyodor tried to work but was distracted by your soft touches and gentle actions. Eventually, he gave up and paid attention to you, giving you the cuddles and small gestures that you sorely needed.

"Still jealous my Mishka?"

You said nothing just stayed in is warmth “oh my,my dear i love you and you only”

DAZAI

we all know how dazai flirts with all girls but this time he went over the limit and spent the whole time talking to the waitress despite her and YOUR discomfort. It was supposed to be your date and what does he do? Flirts and is with another girl!!!?

When you were then on your way home he tried to talk to you and start a conversation but your responses were a simple "mh mh" or "yeah sure" in a cold and uncaring tone and this behavior went on until the next morning. You had calmed down and were getting up and noticed that the raven-haired boy had already disappeared to who knows where....

You got ready to go to work and noticed that your boyfriend was already there,without thinking much about it I took the chair and stood beside him linking your arms to his upper arm

He looked at you with a confused look

"Bella! You need"

No answer

"Bella?"

No answer,just you snuggling into his arm

He understood and left you there while he did everything but work

NIKOLAI

Having a bright and cheeky nature, Nikolai would naturally draw attention from others.

You observed with a sinking heart as Nikolai struck up conversations with appealing girls.

You wondered, your mind racing with uncertainties and fears, "What if Nikolai prefers the company of those girls over me?"

You couldn't get rid of the uneasy sensation in the air that night as they sat by the fireplace because you couldn't look Nikolai in the eyes."What troubles you, my love?" With a soft voice, Nikolai questioned.

But you remained silent.You rushed up from where you were sitting and hopped on him, giving him a tight embrace without saying anything. The man realized after some consideration that you were probably overthinking things.

Nikolai held your hands in his and soothed your anxious state with kind words of passion and love as his eyes softened with tenderness. He explained that while he appreciated the beauty of others, it was you who held the key to his heart, and no one else was comparable to you.

RANPO

Ranpo acts and behaves in a very childish manner; he is direct in everything he says and does, frequently acting without hesitation.

He doesn't even understand it at first—he's the greatest investigator in all of Japan, yet he's incredibly naive—he doesnt even realise hes making you jealous and kinda feel bad.He didn't even look at you during a investigation in which you were tasked with assisting him, and he ignored you if you had something to say. All he was thinking about was that case and how he could make himself stand out and demonstrate that he was the greatest, the smartest, he and he only...

You'd be lying if you said this behavior wasn't upsetting you.You choose to remain in the distance, maybe to let time pass or in hopes that someone would eventually take notice of you.

Ranpo only returned to you a few hours later, mumbling about how foolish everyone was in comparison to him after Ranpo's Ultra Deduction had solved the case.

You didn't respond, and he realized right away—not because of his incredible deduction, per se, but also because he observed your depressing attitude.

He let you snuggle and love him because he knew deep down thats what you wanted and opened his arms to make you feel better and in hope you'll forgive him.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs hcs #nikolai gogol #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #ranpo imagines #ranpo edogawa #ranpo x reader #bsd ranpo #dazai x reader #dazai x y/n #dazai x fem reader #dazai x you #edogawa ranpo x reader #edogawa ranpo

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chiacanwritesometimes · 22 days ago

Text

the three times you tried, and the one time it worked. (part 2)

�� ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

ship: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1.6k

author’s note: this is unedited, so there might be some grammatical errors. this fic dives into themes of pregnancy, miscarriage, and alcohol. please please please do not interact if these themes bother, trigger, or make you uncomfortable. all information regarding my statistics have been sourced from mayo clinic, nhs.uk and cleveland clinic. please let me know if i got anything wrong so i can update this with the most accurate information! if you have gone through something like this or similar, please reach out to support groups or hotlines. i will link some down on the notes as soon as i can!

eek! one part left! i have enjoyed writing this so far, and i might do a “what they’re up to now” when im done with this series. i hope you enjoy reading it :P

===========

it was hard on him as well. how do you go from being thrown seventy years into the future, from meeting the love of your life, to losing a baby with her?

her screams haunted him, almost as much as…

he tried not to think about it too much. he promised her he was starting a new life with and for her, although she encouraged him to talk about the past to better understand him and to help him work out the trauma.

he spent most of his days in the office, filling out paperwork. he called time off from work, but you got well enough to the point where he could return without fear of you hurting yourself. most nights were spent holding each other, with either one of you or both of you crying.

80 percent of miscarriages happen in the first trimester. it’s not that you weren’t fertile, but what you both didn’t account for was how his super soldier genes would affect everything, having the baby develop faster than it’s little body could handle. it was eight centimeters long, contrast to the common five centimeters. he blamed himself for it, but you assured that through no fault of his, it happened. you didn’t want to grow to resent him, as you knew deep down it truly wasn’t his fault. you buried yourself in statistics to find loops and explanations as to why, why you, why this, just…why. for women under 30, 1 in 10 pregnancies end in miscarriage. around 10-20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage. you became depressed, finding yourself as another statistic to write down, another number in a chart. he caught on to what you were doing, but didn’t know how to handle it. he mostly just held you, and whispered words of comfort into your ear.

“why did it have to be us?” you whispered softly, one night, as he spooned you.

he paused for a moment. “i don’t know.”

“if only i-“. he cut you off. “stop. you know it wasn’t your fault. we’ll try again when you’re ready, okay?”

you went out with your friends one day, a small reward you gave yourself for being so strong. you felt bad for leaving him home, but he assured you that he would be productive.

you really didn’t drink. that’s what you kept telling yourself as you ordered, and kept ordering. you really didn’t, you just didn’t know what came over you. maybe it was the fact that the drinks were cheap, or the company was good. or maybe it was the five month anniversary. you tried not to think about it much, as you didn’t want to depress your friends. your sorrows were washed away, and for the first time in a while, you felt whole. soon, you were drunk. not tipsy, but full on, shit faced drunk. your giddy smile convinced your friends to call him, and it wasn’t long before he was there to pick you up. he scooped you up with ease, and chuckled at your exaggerated affection towards him.

“you’re drunk.” he teased, as he sat you down in the passenger seat.

“and you’re not.” you teased back. he closed the door and walked over to the drivers seat. he sat down and took a deep breath. he didn’t start the car just yet, he was just looking at you.

“well i can’t get drunk, you know that. plus, im driving. wouldn’t be responsible.”

“and you’re known for always following the rules, yes yes.” you said in a mock serious tone, making him snort.

“low blow.” he responded, as he turned the key to the ignition. the hum of the engine proved to be a good melody lulling you to sleep, and your head bobbed as you tried your hardest to stay awake. his hand was on your thigh, and his thumb traced circles. it proved wonders, and you quickly fell asleep. the car ride was fifteen minutes long, and your eyes fluttered open as your body recognized the turns to your home. you stretched your arms, muscles sore from all the dancing you did with your friends. he was humming a song, one you tried to recognize.

the music started, and was i the perplexed one?

he stopped the car, and walked to your side, opening the door.

i held my breath and said, may i have the next one?

his soft voice made your ears turn red. he helped you out of the car, and scooped you bridal style. you giggled. he walked to the front door, and you unlocked it. he gently placed you down as you both entered, and he continued.

in my frightened arms-

you smiled. “polka dots and moon beams.” you said. you recognized the song, and as you took your shoes off, he beamed at you. he nodded and continued.

polka dots and moon beams, sparkled on a pug nosed dream.

he whistled the improvisation of the trombone, and took your hands as he led you down the hall to the dining room. there, a candle lit table with two plates.

“i had this planned, but i didn’t want you to not go out with your friends.” he admitted sheepishly. you gasped and smiled.

“this is so sweet.” you were slowly sobering up. your clothes felt heavy on you, and you suggested putting on pajamas. he agreed, and the both of you walked upstairs as you talked about the events of the night. he listened intently, and sat down on the bathroom counter as you took a quick shower. the warm air made your baby hairs cling to your skin, and the mirror foggy. you finished, and grabbed the nearest towel and covered yourself. you walked out of the shower, shivering slightly from the temperature difference. you walked over to where he sat, and smiled at him.

“hi.” you said softly, soaking in the intimate moment.

“hi.” he replied, equally as gentle. he cupped your jaw, and planted a small kiss on your lips. he leaned his forehead on yours, and closed his eyes.

“you smell good. new shampoo?”

you nodded.

“you’re welcome to try it.” you smiled, running your damp hand through his hair. he grabbed your wrist, and starting placing small kisses on your knuckles, your palm, your fingers.

“you’re so pretty.” he said as he sat up from the counter and towered above you. you grinned.

“you really think so?”

he nodded.

“oh yeah. everyone at work is so jealous of me.” he boasted as you snorted.

“oh, i’m sure.” you chuckled as he took your hand and twirled you and pulled you in, embracing you. he pulled you in a long kiss, holding the back of your neck and your waist. he sat you down on the counter and one thing led to another and…

you kept replaying those moments as you stared at the two lines on the second pregnancy test. you felt dread, but also joy? it was a mix of emotions. you felt scared, what if it happened again? 80 percent of miscarriages happen in the first trimester, you kept telling yourself. you just had to survive the first 12 weeks, and you’ll be fine.

you knocked on the doorway to his office, which was a huge step for you. you hadn’t entered that room since the incident. he looked up from his book.

“what’s up, birdie?” birdie. a nickname he used after catching you singing along to one of your favorite records, and one he used sparingly. that nicknamed grounded you, and gave you the strength to fess up.

you held up the test, and said nothing.

“two lines?” he asked, with a tone you could almost register as nervousness with a twinge of fear.

you nodded. he stood up to embrace you, laughing.

“two lines!” he kept repeating, kissing your neck. this made you ease up, and soon, you were laughing as well.

“okay, okay! we have to be prepared this time.” you stated. “but also, we can’t get our hopes too up, what if-“. you stopped laughing. you cleared your throat.

“no matter what happens, we’ll…be fine, right?”

he nodded. “we’ll be fine. for better or worse, remember?”

“pinky promise?” your request broke his heart. he set you down and extended his own pinky finger, hooking it with yours. he took your hand and kissed it.

“i’m yours, through it all.” he said, smiling.

you two had decided to take a small vacation, to get your mind off things. you refused any food that could possibly hurt the growth of the fetus, and tried your hardest to stay optimistic. you steered clear of baby clothes until after the first twelve weeks were over. how betrayed you would soon feel.

as you were three weeks in, you felt strange. similar to the way it felt the first time, but you thought it was just morning sickness or something.

you both had travelled to maine, to watch the ocean. you decided that fresh air was what you both needed. not only was the salt air fresh, but it was cold, very cold. you had taken a midnight stroll with him on the sand, and went to bed at three in the morning.

you woke up with pain, similar to the pain you would feel with period cramps. you sat up and googled “miscarriage symptoms” with shaky hands. this couldnt happen again. how could this happen again? your stirring caused him to wake up, and he saw what was on your phone. his heart dropped as he made eye contact with you. your face was pale, your eyes filled with grief.

“james?” you said, cautiously. his eyes sank. you only called him by that name when things were extremely serious.

“yes, my love?”

80 percent of miscarriages happen in the first trimester.

…

part 2/3. update tmr!

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worldofkuro · 8 months ago

Text

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XXVII

<- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ->

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: I won't lie, I'm proud of this chapter, it's better than the last one which I'm not completly satisfied with. I hope you will enjoy this chapter.

You gasped as your soul came back inside your body. You couldn’t help but feel fear sipping through your body, making you stand up quickly. You felt like something was coming toward you, at a racing speed.

You looked at your shadow which was frowning, staring at the entrance, her form being bigger and bigger, her growing presence overwhelming all the room. Your breathing was getting quicker and quicker, what was going on?

You tried to talk with Legba but you were too panicked to be able to summon a tangible link. You rushed into the kitchen as you felt another presence watching you. You took a knife and waited with your shadow at your side. It was snarling and growling, staying protectively near you.

You flinched when your shadow rushed toward something, making you freeze. You waited, your grip on the blade showing no sign of weakness. You waited before seeing your shadow coming back with its usual hideous smile. You tilted your eyes, you couldn’t feel the presence… What you could feel was…

“ Alastor?”

You went into the living room where Alastor’s shadow was looking around, everywhere. It stopped when it saw you and rushed toward you, caging you in its embrace with his horrific smile. You patted its head with a relieved smile.

“ Good boy…” You watched as it beamed before it latched toward your own shadow and both of them began their usual banter. You sat on the sofa, calming your nerves. If Alastor’s shadow was here, it certainly meant he felt something like you did. But it also meant Alice and Alyzée were alone without protection…

You called the two shadows to you which both went toward you, waiting for your commands. You tilted your head, crossing your arms against your chest, your finger tapping against your arms.

“ I don’t think I can manage to send my own shadow so far away from me, so you need to go back to Alice and Alyzée.” you said, sighing when you saw Alastor’s shadow fuzzing with anger, his smile dropping into a snarl. It moved toward you and wrapped its hand around your ankle, smiling once more. You pouted, it seemed like Alastor had decided that his priority would be you.

You looked at your shadow which was tugging Alastor’s shadow’s hair. Maybe you could try to send your own shadow..

“ Do you think you can protect our friends ?” you asked, ignoring Alastor’s shadow frown. Your shadow smiled hideously at you, nodding eagerly. You sended her to your friend and as soon as your shadow was out of your property, you fell on the sofa, your eyes closed.

You couldn’t move. It was a strange feeling, it was like you were watching from someone else's eyes. Your own body couldn’t move, you needed to be so concentrated to keep your shadow moving to Alice’s position. How could Alastor manage to do his daily life when his shadow was always attached to Alyzée or you?

You felt the Alastor’s shadow squeezed your ankle, like an encouraging gesture. If you could have, you would have smiled at it. It was oddly cute, it seemed like a more twisted version of Alastor when he was younger.

You looked through your shadow’s eyes which were already at Alice’s side. Your friends were talking with a woman about God. You tried to see if the man who watched you was around but it seemed like he was gone. Well, you panicked for nothing…

You looked at the lady, she was kind of cute, holding a Bible against her chest, explaining something to your friends. It’s when you saw Alice and Alyzée’s uncomfortable face that you decided to listen to what the lady was saying.

“ We must fight those people who go against God’s will. Some women fancies other women, how disgusting.”

Ah.

Well, that wasn’t a pleasant conversation at all. You looked around, maybe you could make something happen so the unpleasant lady would back off from your friends. You looked through your shadow eyes, looking around.

You didn’t want Alice to support the lady’s yapping more than she already indulged. You saw a group of men, chatting on the other side of the road, one holding a dog by his leash, but the dog was staring in your direction. The dog was wagging his tail lazily, seeming to look in your directions.

Could animals see the spirits ?

You asked your shadow to move toward the dog, wanting to test your theory and you smiled when the dog barked at your shadow, his tail wagging energetically. That was interesting information… You looked toward Alice and Alyzée, going back toward them as the two women were looking at the dog who was making noises.

You giggled but then froze when you saw the lady looking at you, seeming paler than she was a minute ago. She jerked her head toward the dog, before trying to come back to her discussion with your friends. Did… Did she see your shadow ? You needed to find out if she could see you, then you would know how to act.

You forced your shadow to approach the lady who clenched her Bible harder against her chest. You could feel your shadow smiling down on the poor woman, in its usual horrific way. You smirked when you saw the woman looking at your shadow.

You got her, now what should you do? Follow her or stay with your friends in case something happens?

You turned around when you heard a panting noise coming from behind you. You turned around and saw Victor, catching his breath as he looked at Alice and Alyzée with a tired smile.

“ Hha… Alastor… told me to fetch you.” Victor said to your friend with a friendly smile.

Once again, your husband was just… perfect with his timing.

The lady ran away from your friends who seemed shocked. You demanded your shadow to follow the woman which it gladly did. As your shadow was following the woman, you felt your own body getting tired. How exhausting that exercise was! How could Alastor manage it? The woman ran for ten minutes before going inside a building. You watched as your shadow followed her, seeming to have much fun.

The shadow entered the building, which seemed to be abandoned. It looked around, once again, its childish curiosity making it hard not to find it cute. It looked at a dirtied doll before going after the woman. You didn’t know where she went but it shouldn’t be hard to find her.

You could only hear noise and see when you were inside your shadow, so you were a little confused when it moved toward a room with excitement. You looked inside and saw a.. was that a lamb? Your shadow moved toward it, touching the dead animal with morbid fascination. What was a lamb doing here..? The room was dark, you couldn’t see anything but the lamb in the middle of the room. There was so much blood…

“ We got you.”

Your shadow turned around, snarling as a man was standing in front of the entrance of the room.

Fuck.

You commanded your shadow to attack the man. You didn’t want to lose this time, and furthermore, this man gave you the same vibes as the stalker who attacked you last time. You needed to see his face.

The man avoided your shadow attacks with strange precision. You let your shadow play with him, letting him get away before trying to reach for him once more, keeping an evil smile on its face. You were trying to see the man's face, but because of the cloat he was wearing it was even more difficult with the darkness in this room.

Wait… Didn’t he say.. We got you..?

You felt your shadow snarl in pain when you heard a feminine voice chanting something. You squint your eyes, trying to see where the voice was coming from. You watched as your shadow tried to run away but it seemed like it was caged between an invisible shield. You looked around and saw with incomprehension something on the floor, around your shadow making it impossible for it to run away. Was that..Salt?

You looked up when the man lit a candle making you capable of seeing around you. The walls around you were gray but you could see blood dripping on it. You frowned as your shadow tried to make itself bigger, snarling at the man in front of it, banging against the shield.

“ Oh lord, you were right…”

The voice came behind the man and then you saw the woman you were after. Her Bible was opened and she was looking at your shadow with disgust and fear. You could feel anger swirling inside your belly, how dared she look at you that way?

“ Yes, I saw her thanks to the Lord. We need to get rid of it.”

What was going on…? You looked as the woman began to read her bible, chanting something you couldn’t understand. You looked as your shadow began to snarl in pain, its body bending in awkward shape, its hand trying to keep the noise from coming inside its ears.

You felt helpless, you couldn’t do anything but watch as your shadow seemed to be burned alive. You didn’t know why, but you felt foreign energy going inside of you, you knew you were upset and yet you didn’t feel any emotion. The man watched as your shadow was hissing in pain with a satisfied smile.

You stared at the salt keeping your shadow caged. You could.. make it go away. It seemed like your shadow was the only thing being affected by the chanting. You closed your eyes, trying so hard to raise your hand. You could feel your own body in your house, moving like you were doing right here. Come on… Just a little push…

You wanted to use your telekinesis on the book or the salt, to break the barrier. You inhaled before energy busted out of you, making the woman fall backward and send the salt away, breaking the shield. You shouted in your mind at your shadow to run, to go back home at your side right now.

The man tried to keep your shadow but it snarled with pure fury, clawing at the man’s face before rushing out of the building, running back home.

You opened your eyes with difficulty, you needed to see your shadow. Was it okay..? You sat up slowly, Alastor’s shadow trying to help you with a worried frown. You looked around you and frowned when you saw furniture on the ground. Did you use your power near your shadow but also here…? You patted the shadow’s head before jerking your head to the door, seeing your shadow coming home, cuddling its arms against itself.

Alastor’s shadow rushed toward yours, looking at what was wrong with your shadow. You walked toward them, crouching in front of them. Your shadow looked like half of its face had been taken off. You grimaced as your shadow kept a frown on its face, even with Alastor’s shadow trying to cheer it up.

“ Let me heal you…”

You yelped when both of the shadows snarled at you with anger. You blinked at their reaction.

“ What? You don’t want me to heal you?”

“ And they are right, my love.”

You turned your face toward the door and smiled at Alastor who was clearly irritated. He walked toward your shadow and looked at its injury. You didn’t need him to talk to know he wanted to know what was going on. You told him everything that happened, watching as his body tensed as you explained what happened in the abandoned building.

“ Mhn..We need answers. Kalfu, come here.”

“ Papa Legba, would you please join us?”

You watched as the two spirits were leaning comfortably against the wall. Kalfu was smirking, it seemed like he was enjoying himself. Legba was looking at you with his usual warm expression. You stood up with Alastor and everyone went into the kitchen.

“ I have questions. Would you betray us?” Alastor asked, drinking the coffee you made him.

“ Alastor!”

“ No offense taken, little lady.” Papa Legba said with a genuine smile. “ What is a betrayal for you? If you are asking if I will give others an access to the spiritual realm, as long as they give me a sacrifice, I will.” You looked as Alastor’s smile twitched.

You frowned at his answer.

“ Then, if I fight against someone who works with you… How are we going to deal with it? Would you tell our secret to them?”

“ Why would I do that? I will give access to a spirit they want to work with, nothing more.” Legba tilted his head, watching you calmly. “ If you were to fight with someone I helped, I won’t intervene, it is only your control over your powers that will help you.”

“ But I know my wife is your protégée, right?” Alastor asked with his usual smile. You watched as Legba looked at Alastor, staying silent for a moment. What was a protégée exactly..? You asked your husband who explained it to you. “ A protégée my dear, is when a Spirit is fond of a human who tries to reach for them. Like a mentor student relationship. The spirit decided to be more present, without needing to ask for a sacrifice each time they are called depending on the situation.”

You beamed at Papa Legba who was looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“ Am I your protégée ?” you asked with a big smile. You didn’t know why but you saw Legba as your grandpa and knowing he was watching over you was comforting. The spirit smiled, sighing before patting your head.

“ I guess you are.”

You smiled at Alastor who smirked at you. You looked at Kalfu who was looking in your direction when he felt your gaze on him. He smirked at you still trying after all those years to make you scared. You weren’t afraid of Kalfu anymore but you knew he could be so scary sometimes, so you didn’t want to push your luck.

“ Is Kalfu’s protégée Alastor?” you asked curiously. You flinched when Kalfu roared with a mocking laughter.

“ Ooh, yes he is. But unlike your sweet relationship with Legba, I won’t run to save Alastor’s life. He can save his own, if not, why would I be there? I can help him in other ways, but don’t call me for sweet things like saving his life. Isn't that why you are here, little missy?”

You looked at Alastor who nodded, smirking mockingly at Kalfu. You rolled your eyes, smiling a little. They must talk about your healing abilities…Talking about healing… You turned your head toward the two shadows and felt sad.

Your shadow was still unmoving even with Alastor’s shadow moving around it, tugging its hair and waiting to see if it would react. It seemed to be more worried each time your shadow wasn’t giving it a proper reaction.

“ How could my shadow be hurted like this?”

You looked at the three men in front of you. Now, you needed to understand what happened in that building. Legba crossed his arms after smoking, his pipe fuming in a smoothing way.

“ Well, you saw it yourself , didn’t you?”

“ What do you mean?” you asked, making a cold chocolate for you.

“It was an offering, aren’t you not used to seeing them now?” Alastor asked, stroking your cheeks. “ From what you told me, the lamb was an offering.” He looked at Legba who nodded. “ Was it for you?”

“I’m more of a rooster man. This offering wasn’t for me.”

You frowned, looking at Kalfu who smirked at you before shaking his head. It wasn’t for him either.

“ Well, they did have a Bible with them, so I’m not surprised either…” you mumbled, drinking your cold chocolate.

“ We can work with christianity.” Legba said with a small smile. You tilted your head, curiously but he didn’t say anything more. You looked as your husband took your hand, stroking your skin, deep in thoughts. You looked at Legba with a sad smile.

“ Can .. Can you heal my shadow..?”

Legba turned his gaze toward your shadow, still being taken care of by Alastor’s shadow. He stood up and walked toward them, smiling as Alastor’s shadow kept yours against its. Legba touched your shadow, a red energy coming off him. You closed your eyes as the light was getting too strong for you to be able to see what was going on.

After a minute, you blinked your eyes and you smiled as your shadow was moving everywhere, clearing happy to be painless once more. Alastor’s shadow was staring at it before tugging its hair once more and smiled when it saw your shadow running after him in the house. You sighed, relieved.

You thanked Legba who asked for a rooster in exchange, which you accepted.

“ Then, is it possible for them to work with angels?”

All heads turned toward Alastor. Angels…? You never thought they existed but now, it could be a possibility… Could you compare Papa Legba to an angel? You didn't know how to compare their power… Well, Legba told you the power was held in the person who asked a spirit, so maybe… With a good plan you could take someone who was working with an angel..? How complicated.

“ It is highly possible, even more so if they had a Bible with them.”

“ Mhn, It’s not my favorite hypothesis.” Laughed Kalfu with a smirk, looking at you with a knowing smile. Alastor stared at his spirit, his smile never faltering. “ Now, I have other things to do, if you excuse me.”

You looked as Kalfu vanished from his chair in a dark mist. You looked at Legba who smiled at you, asking you not to forget his rooster before walking away, vanishing behind a wall. You waited a few seconds before looking at Alastor who was sighing, his eyes closed.

You walked toward him and kissed his cheek which made him look at you.

“ Ahh, darling, do you want me to die younger because of stress?” He said as he tugged you on his laps, his arms around your waist. You tilted your head as he kept talking. “ I sended Victor to take care of the girl so you would go back home, and yet… You went into the big bad wolf’s mouth, not even planning something. I taught you better than that, right?” He purred, his lips against your cheek.

You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder.

“ I’m sorry. I was… too excited I think.”

Alastor hummed against your skin as he watched both of your shadows playing with each other. You smiled fondly at the view.

“ Don’t you think they acted like us when we were younger?” you giggled as Alastor’s shadow poked yours on its cheek, making it snarl at it.

“ I think the same… But they are deadlier.” Alastor gave you a sinister smile which made you shiver. You kissed his lips, humming as he kissed you back. You pushed your body against his, singing in bliss when you felt his nails digging into your skin. You whispered against his lips.

“ You don’t feel sick anymore..?”

“ I was not sick dear, I was just… tired.” he kissed you back before you could answer back, making you chuckle against his lips. You knew that Alastor and you would find those who dared disturbed the peace you created for yourself.

It’s been so long since you felt another predator was in New Orleans. But you would win, like always.

—-

You were with Alice, at her home.

It’s been two months since you discovered your new ‘enemies’. You didn’t expect it to put so much mental charge in your mind. You could feel their eyes on you on the street and yet you couldn’t find them. Fortunately, they didn’t show up and didn’t attack you, or Alastor or anyone else. Alastor and you went into the abandoned building, multiple times to search through every floor and you didn't find anything. It felt like they cleaned everything before vanishing.

You’ve been making yourself sick over this. It felt like the danger could happen any time. You were sleeping less, you had nausea and you were getting emotional with the lack of sleep. Sometimes you could cry because Alastor came later than usual and you thought he had been killed by the couple you couldn’t find in this bloody town.

Alastor, seeing your state getting worse, demanded you to stop caring about this and that he would handle it himself, but you shouted at him that you would never let him go alone against two persons that had power which you didn’t know anything about.

You knew Alastor was getting more worried about you, you could see it in his eyes even when he was smiling like usual. Sometimes it was scaring yourself how you would lose yourself to your nerves. This was the most difficult thing you've ever done.

Killing Alastor’s father was your first, but it was easy, it happened one night and it was gone, just like all your victims. You would track them down and kill them with Alastor by your side. Now, it felt like you were the prey, but unlike your previous victims, you knew you were being hunted.

You sighed, it’s been going on for two months and you didn’t discover anything, the only thing news was that Baron Samedi was coming to check on you more often. You wondered if Alastor asked him to… Well, when you asked him, Baron Samedi just smiled at you with a knowing look so you guessed it was Alastor’s doing.

“ Fuck it, I’m calling a doctor.”

You turned your head toward Alice, who had a nice small bum which made you smile. She was now six weeks pregnant. Pregnancy looked good on her… Wait, what did she say?

“ No, no need. I’m just… tired.” you sighed, lying on the couch, closing your eyes.

“ You’ve been in this state for more than two weeks. I’m calling our best doctor, don’t move.” She stood up and called her butler.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep but you woke up with a gasp when you felt a touch on your shoulder. You sighed when you saw Alice who was beaming at you with a doctor next to her. You knew she wouldn’t give up, she didn’t know you were using your power most of the time to watch if the couple that attacked you was around…

Well, let’s just let Alice win this time.

You let the doctor examine you and smirked when he told you seemed very tired. You stared at Alice, with a ‘ I told you so’ gaze. She just snapped her fingers, demanding that you keep your focus on the doctor.

You felt cold around you and frowned when you saw Baron Samedi behind the doctor, staring at him with an amused smile. You tilted your head and gasped when the spirit went inside the doctor's body, making the man faint.

Alice gasped as she touched the man’s shoulder.

“ Mister,are you okay?”

The doctor, which you knew was possessed by Baron Samedi, smiled at her. You could see his eyes were different, you wondered if Alice could see it…

“ I’m doing great. I’m here to tell you what kind of sickness Mrs.Sanglar is having.”

You frowned, was he joking with you? What was he doing–?

“ You are pregnant.”

…

“ What?” Alice and you said in unison.

“ Congratulations, you must be around nine or ten weeks pregnant.” Baron Samedi smiled.

You screamed with Alice, both of you panicking. You stood up, placing your hands on your belly, screaming at Alice who was helding your hands with hers, screaming with you. You needed to calm down, you needed to calm down ! It could be a bad joke of Baron Samedi.

“ Wait, Alice we can’t panic at the same time!” You shouted, trying to calm yourself. You needed to… to calm yourself.

“ You are right. I’m going to panic first, then it’s your turn.” said Alice before screaming, moving around the living room.

You looked at Baron Samedi, still possessing the doctor’s body.

“ Are you joking? It is a nasty joke?” you asked, your voice shaking.

“ No, I promise. It explained your nausea, your emotional state, you didn’t get your period not because of stress but because you are pregnant.”

You sat on the couch, your whole body shaking from excitement, fear and happiness. You were pregnant..? You were going to have a baby..? Alastor and you were going to have a baby…? Oh my God..

You gasped when Alice touched your shoulder.

“ I finished panicking, it's your turn.”

You screamed in joy and pure fear once more. Alice hugged you, being mindful of her belly, her eyes getting teary. You didn't know why you began to sob, hugging her against you. You were pregnant… Oh God, oh God!

You needed to see Alastor right now!

You took you things, already asking for someone to take you to Alastor work. Then you stopped yourself, Alice bumping against your back.

“ No, maybe I should do a surprise for him? But will he see it coming ? What do I do ? What if he doesn’t want children, we never really talk about it? Oh, I need to tell Marie, and my mother, and my father! Oh and–” you stopped talking when Alice put her finger on your lips with a genuine smile.

“ Sweetie, deep breath…”

You closed your eyes and did as she told you, calming yourself. You bit your lips, oh lord, you were pregnant… You opened your eyes, feeling something you never felt in your life. There was a life that was beginning to grow inside you..

“ Now, what do you want to do?” Asked Alice.

“ I want to see Alastor.” you said, your voice calmer than a minute ago.

Alice nodded with a smile and asked one of her drivers to drive you to Alastor’s workplace. You were bouncing on the seat, stroking your belly, still flat for now. You felt like you were in a maze, you felt light but also heavy.

You ran out of the car once it parked. You looked down as you saw your shadow looking at you curiously. You told it to stay silent, watching as it went back to its normal form.

“ Victor, is Alastor working?” you asked, panting, when you saw the man in the corridor. He looked at you with a welcoming smile before shaking his head.

“ He is inside but he finished working.”

You thanked him before entering Alastor’s office, and closed the door behind you. You watched as your husband was looking at you with a fond smile. You were breathing hard, which immediately made him stand up with a worried expression even if his smile was still present.

“ Well, darling, you look like you ran from something… or someone? Did you see them?” you smile as his eyes flashed red when he asked you if you ran into the catholic couple. You shook your head as you took his hand and placed it against your cheek.

“ No, no… I… I have good news. Well, I hope it’s going to be good news…”

You watched as Alastor looked at you, confused but let you speak. You kept your gaze on his face, taking his hand from your cheek to place it against your belly. He tilted his head, confused. He looked so cute like this.

“ I’m pregnant.”

You watched as his eyes widened and his smile dropped, making your heart clenched. Was he not happy..? You waited for him to talk, you knew he always needed to have time with his thoughts but right now you needed him to act right now.

You watched as he kneeled in front of you, staring at your belly with a mix of fascination and confusion. You let him touch your stomach with a soft smile, he looked like a kid again, when he discovered something he never expected to exist.

“ You… I’ve made you… pregnant?” he asked softly, lifting his head up to watch you. You chuckled as you stroke his cheeks, your voice soft.

“ Yes.. I’m carrying your child.”

“Our child.” he corrected you.

“ Yes… Our child.” You smiled at him, your eyes getting teary. He scooped you in his arms, laughing.

“ Who would have thought ! There is something… in your belly that we created together…” He stared at you in fascination. He seemed fascinated that you both created something that would be alive.

You kissed him softly and giggled when you felt his shadow touched your belly with curiosity. It was poking at your belly then it went to poked your shadow’s belly who let him do it. Alastor made you sit down before opening the door and asking Victor to bring you a cup of water.

You looked at your belly. You were creating life, after killing so many people. You smiled, in a few months, you would meet your baby, something you and Alastor’s love created.

You couldn’t wait.

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ivelle-serenity · 9 months ago

Text

Skateboard

Wind breaker

author's note: actually, I don't know where this story is heading. Maybe it will turn into a reverse harem? I really don't know. This is a story by the way. Not just an one shot.

✧˖° — windbreaker men

✧˖° — mdni, smut, description of not safe for work content.

Links:

Skateboard 2

Skateboard 3

Skateboard 4

I set my lollipop down and adjusted my grip on my skateboard. It was hard to believe I was here, in the club, waiting to sell my bike. I hadn't ridden it in ages; I was tired of it and preferred skateboarding. Someone wanted to buy my bike, and we were supposed to meet here.

I smoothed out my long, curly hair and glanced at my reflection on my phone. I sighed. I hadn't bothered with lipstick, but my two-toned lips stood out on my plump ones. My mood soured as I overheard people whispering again in the club, as if I couldn't hear them.

"Dude, check out that girl! She looks like she's from abroad, right?"

"Wow, she's stunning. I've never seen curls like that on a girl before."

I just rolled my eyes and went back to sucking on my lollipop.

I shifted my gaze to the commotion from the side. There was a scuffle going on, and it seemed like someone was throwing punches. Furrowing my brow, I spotted the tall guy with blue hair. He had piercings and was looking at me, his face devoid of emotion. There was blood on his hands. I quickly looked away and checked the time.

Where was that guy?

"Well, well, I didn't expect you to be this early, Demitra," someone called out to me.

And there was Wooin, sporting his usual smug expression, his signature glasses perched on his nose. My attention was drawn to the guy beside him. Like the one I saw by the ring earlier, his hair color was different too. It was red... And not just that. One of his eyes was red as well.

Interesting.

"If you weren't going to buy my bike, you should've told me earlier so I wouldn't be here," I said irritably. I noticed the red-haired guy's gaze on me.

"Who is this?" My skin almost tingled at the chilling voice of the man with red hair. I tilted my head to the right, gazing at him with a hint of curiosity.

"No one. I'm just a nobody, weird guy," I replied sharply.

His expression turned to anger almost instantly, replacing whatever had been there before. He seemed about to step forward when Wooin stepped in. Instead of fear, I felt even more irritated. Wooin's smirk only added to my frustration. I sighed, running my fingers through my hair.

"Are you buying it or not?" I said, my annoyance clear.

"Oh, come on, what's the rush?" He held my waist and gently seated me on a bar stool chair. I glanced down at it, then shot a cold look at Wooin.

I had to admit, the guy I'd met was good-looking. It made sense why he caught the eye of so many women in the club. But he also seemed dangerous. Besides his rumored wealth, there were whispers of him taking down numerous men.

"I'll pay you triple," he said with a smirk, standing close in front of me as I sat.

"This is just a bike," I retorted.

"Honestly, I don't want your bike," he licked his lips before fixing his gaze on me. "I want to see you riding that bike."

I furrowed my brow, tightening my grip on my skateboard. We locked eyes for a moment. It had been a while since I rode a bike. Frankly, I was tired of it. It had become so dull to use.

"Not happening," I said firmly. "And why should I even consider it?" I added, glaring at him.

"Because we need you," he whispered to me before leaning in closer. My eyes widened at his action. Before I could respond, the man with red hair reached out and grabbed Wooin. I could see the frustration and confusion in his eyes.

"What did you say?" he asked, trying to keep his composure.

Wooin grinned. "You know what I mean, Vinny."

So that's his name.

"You want her to be in our crew?" I glanced at the man who had been in the boxing ring earlier. His face was emotionless. I had to look up due to his towering height. He was the tallest of the two.

"A girl? You want that girl to be part of us? Are you kidding me?" Vinny couldn't believe it, giving me a disdainful look.

"She's not just a girl, Vinny," Wooin gave me a mischievous look. "Don't underestimate a girl who knows how to skateboard."

I stood up and locked eyes with Wooin. "Don't drag me into your childish games. Biking is not my thing anymore. Maybe it's just for kids like you."

The man with blue hair remained emotionless. Vinny's face was full of anger. I didn't care about their drama. They just wasted my time. If I had just joined my new school instead, I wouldn't have been late.

"Who do you think you are?" Vinny was about to step closer, but I smiled.

"I'm just a girl, Vinny," I said innocently, causing him to pause. I was just throwing back to him what he said.

As I stormed out of the bar, frustration boiling inside me, I snatched the bike. That jerk wasted my time! Now I'm going to be late for school. I hopped onto the bike, hastily tucking my skateboard behind me. Ugh, I have no choice but to ride this bike again. Being super late for school isn't my idea of fun.

"If I ever find that guy again, I swear, I'm going to give him a hard punch in the face," I grumbled to myself as I pedaled faster.

Suddenly, a blur whizzed past me at lightning speed. He was wearing the same uniform as me. I tilted my head to the right, observing his biking skills. He seemed... skilled. Glasses perched on his nose, sporting a mullet haircut.

I don't know why it brought a smirk to my lips. His moves were so familiar. It was like watching myself from back when I used to bike in junior high. I pedaled the bike faster, surprising the guy with glasses as I passed him. I just smiled at him before speeding up even more. The gap between us widened.

I chuckled before glancing back. He was now looking at me intensely.

Well, I didn't know there were so many handsome guys here in Korea.

I didn't see him anymore, so I shrugged it off. When I arrived at Sunny High, I gasped for breath as I unstrapped my skateboard. I parked my bike as well.

"You're new..."

I glanced back. It was him. His bike was already parked. He arrived before me. I immediately knew he took a shortcut. There's no way he could have beaten me otherwise.

"Yeah," I replied shortly before putting on my black glasses. "Great ride, by the way. Are you a pro?" I asked while adjusting my skateboard, securing it to my bike.

"No," he said with a puzzled look. "You seem to know how to ride too," he pointed out.

I smirked. "You think so?"

He didn't reply, just looked at my bike and skateboard.

"Nah, I'm just a beginner," I laughed.

"Jay! Damn, man. The first period is over! Why are you late?"

I froze as Jay and I both turned to look at the guy beside us. I noticed two guys walking towards us. The one who spoke was the bearded guy in a hoodie. He had a companion with a gentle face. I lazily grabbed my bag from the bike.

"Whoa... you're with a girl!? Wait a minute. Is she a foreigner?!" the bearded guy exclaimed in surprise and slight panic. I shot him an annoyed look.

"No," Jay replied shortly. Answering his first question.

"Dom, lower your voice. You might scared the girl," the guy with the gentle face playfully scolded.

I kept my expression neutral. What's up with these guys? I know they're seniors like me, but why are they so hyper? I was surprised to notice that we were being watched by students, especially the freshmen. It seems his group of friends is quite popular, huh?

"You're cheating on Shelly?" Dom exclaimed in shock.

"Stop it," Jay said coldly. Who's Shelly? His girlfriend? Oh hell nah. I need to stay away from him then. I sighed, what a waste, he's handsome.

"Do you know where room 21 is?" I asked formally.

Dom's jaw dropped. "You're our new classmate?!"

"Of course, Miss. Jay and Dom are in the same class as you. We can show you the way," the polite guy who was with Dom offered.

"June, you might get a nosebleed! What if she suddenly speak a different language!?" Dom became hysterical. I just facepalmed.

"I'm good. Thanks."

I was surprised when Jay suddenly walked alongside me. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"This is also the way to my room," he stated as if it were obvious. I also heard his two friends walking behind us.

"Shit, am I seeing things right? Jay is with some foreigner chick! She's hot!"

"I thought Jay has a girlfriend?"

There they go whispering again. It's only my first day at school and this is what greets me. Why am I assigned to the same room as these famous students?

"Hey Miss! Do you know--"

"Demitra," I cut Dom short. "My name is Demitra."

He scratched his head. "Oh yeah, Demitra. I see you can ride a bike? Your bike model is nice, suitable for tournaments. Why didn't you join?"

I furrowed my brow. "Tournament? I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

His jaw dropped. "What?! So you don't know we're part of a crew?" I remained confused. "Like Hummingbird? Haven't you heard of it? The famous crew?"

"Stop praising yourself, Dom," June laughed.

"Oh come on, man! I was just telling the truth! Demitra, you see, I'm the Sprinter of the group. I'm one of the skilled ones in the crew. And this Jay here is our Ace! He's really a God when it comes to race! You can ask him to teach you." He's so talkative.

I glanced to my side. Jay was quiet, his hands in his pockets, looking ahead as if lost in his own thoughts. So this man is their ace, huh? Not bad. He seems really good.

"Isn't it a bit childish to still be biking? It's just for kids," I said suddenly, making everyone stop and look at me.

"But you're also riding a bike," June pointed out with a frown.

"As if I have a choice. I was supposed to sell that bike, but the guy who was supposed to buy it tricked me. If ever I see that man, I will kick his ass until he bleeds." I felt my temper rising again.

"Maybe it's just not for you," Jay spoke up unexpectedly. "It seems biking is not for everyone. That includes you," his voice suddenly changed.

"Damn, did I hurt your feelings that much?"

He didn't respond but just shrugged. "How about this then," I faced him. "Race with me." He paused.

"Demitra... I don't think it's a good idea," June said with concern.

Dom dramatically covered his mouth, unable to believe that I challenged his friend to a bike race. I just grinned, feeling like I caught Jay's attention and made him face me. His face remained emotionless.

"If I win, let me join your cute crew," I grinned and crossed my arms in front of him. "And if I lose, I will do your assignments for a week. How about that?"

"Jay... Don't do it. She's a girl! We don't fight against them--" Dom's words were cut off when Jay spoke.

"Get your math book ready then. We have an assignment there."

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darylsdelts · 11 months ago

Note

What about angst with Daryl??? I have a bot I made for myself following this thought 💀

Like an argument where things get said, causing silence for a couple of days and then boom! Next time you see him, it’s at the lineup…and then he gets taken…and then we see him again in Hilltop 🥲🥲🥲

(i actually broke my own heart with this one, my bot is so realistic it hurts 😭)

Anon! Drop the link RIGHT NOW!!!

This made my heart drop, I just know my poor boy would be blaming himself for everything.

Immediately after the argument, all Daryl wanted to do was come back to you and apologise in his own way. He wanted to hug you and tell you he didn’t mean what he said… but he didn’t.

He gave you some space, knowing it was probably best for both of you. The next few days were close to hell. Every time he’d see you on the streets of Alexandria he’d stare, hoping for atleast a bit of eye contact to know you were okay but you would just pretend you hadn’t seen him.

Daryl didn’t know that he could feel that sort of pain in his chest, like he was being physically crushed.

Christ, is this what women can do?

From then on he’d assume the worst.

You didn’t love him anymore.

So he’d pretend nothing ever happened, he’d talk to you if it were necessary but otherwise acted like the old Daryl, the one you had met before the spark grew.

Little did Daryl know how badly that hurt you… you were in the same position, you wanted to give him space and assumed he’d come back when he was ready but he never did.

So you assumed the worst.

He didn’t love you anymore.

You went along with Daryl’s act, assuming that’s what he had wanted you to do… but you missed him, you missed your Daryl. The one you had finally managed to break the defences of, the one who was starting to be more open with you but now all of that was gone, it disappeared like it never happened.

It was getting harder to monitor when Daryl was out and when he was within the walls since now he didn’t leave notes for you, but you’d seen him ride out today, seemingly angry about something but you could also tell he was hurting. You weren’t sure what had happened, no one had told you as of yet but some hours later you were sure that Daryl’s absence was something to worry about.

But you never thought it would be this.

You were pushed to your knees, your family lined up either side of you in a small clearing. The back doors of a van opened up, you couldn’t see what or who was in there but there was some commotion… and then loud panting.

You knew… god you fucking knew something happened, you should have spoken up earlier, maybe he wouldn’t be getting dragged out of a van right now, his shoulder leaking blood onto some sort of blanket that had been draped around him.

Fuck, did he get shot?

You lean forward, trying to look down the line of your family to catch Daryl’s gaze.

And after all those weeks, you finally did.

Daryl looked at you through his sweaty locks, his eyes dark and watery with frustration, his eyebrows twitch downwards when he saw you, he saw the fear and concern on your face and all of it was too much, he had to look away or he was gonna throw up from anxiety.

It was torture for Daryl, knowing you were frightened, knowing all of this before him was his fault.

When that asshole, Negan, stuck that damn bat in your face is when he lost all control of himself. Daryl jumped up and smashed his fist into Negan’s jaw, then trying to take further steps to tackle him but he was grabbed and pushed to the ground like a wild fucking animal.

He grunted and squirmed as his hair was pulled, he could hear you crying for them to stop.

“Get off of him! Get off! Daryl, get up!”

Fuck, he was trying to.

Eventually he was dragged back to his place in the line.

He wanted to look over to you but he was so fucking scared now, his heart was beating way too fast and his head was spinning.

He stole a short glance your way and he saw your hands covering your face, palms pushing into your eyes as you choked on your sobs.

He’d done this to you.

You would never forgive him for this.

Daryl just had to sit there, bleeding out from his shoulder as Negan battered members of his family before his eyes, he was sure he’d been the cause for the second death, Glenn. Maybe if he’d just stay put, he could’ve stopped that, he should’ve listened.

“No exceptions”

But he didn’t and it was his fault, he’d have to leave his family, they would never allow for someone like him to live with them now.

Turns out, that was the one thing he didn’t need to worry about, as he was stuffed straight back into the van, apparently Negan wanted to keep him.

Daryl doesn’t know how long he was in that cell for, it felt like years and all he could do was think of you. He was so fucking sorry and he knew he’d never get the chance to make it up to you and even if he did, you wouldn’t want to hear it. Rick wouldn’t want him back in the group but Daryl couldn’t stay here, he’d have to get out and survive on his own, completely.

With some help from one of ‘Negan’s wives’, Daryl escaped, however, his plan of escaping and surviving alone dissipated once he saw Jesus stood in front of him.

He’d come to get him out.

They wanted him back?

Back home?

Surely not.

The journey to hilltop was a fever dream, Daryl was unbelievably anxious, his breaths short, causing Jesus to keep checking on him to which Daryl didn’t reply to. In fact Daryl hadn’t opened his mouth the entire time.

As soon as they arrived at the gates, he could feel his throat closing up.

Were you here? Did you even want to see him? Probably not.

As the gates opened, Daryl kept his head down, following behind Jesus toward one of the medical trailers.

But then he heard his name.

“Daryl?… Daryl?!”

Daryl’s head slowly lifted to the direction of the voice, your voice. You were speed walking, no, now you were running toward him. You slung your arms around him, burying your face into his neck as you cried with… relief.

“You’re here, you’re back, you’re safe… safe now… I’m sorry, I love you so much, Daryl”

Daryl stood as still as stone. You were sorry? He should be the one apologising. You’re glad he’s back? You love him? You still love him.

His heart clenches at the thought.

He feels you pull away, your soft hands holding the sides of his face as your beautiful sparkly eyes look into his own. God he doesn’t deserve this.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Suddenly it all seems to sink in and tears are blurring his vision as he shakes his head slightly, no.

“It’s gonna be okay now, you’re here with me now”

He could feel the life flooding back into him, pushing his face into the crook of your neck as he completely breaks down, hiding his face from the world as he lets out loud, uncontrolled sobs into the fabric of your shirt.

“M-M’s-sorry…. M’so-orry… L-love you so m-much…”

You gently rub his back to soothe him, now realising that your sweet man had blamed himself for everything that had happened.

“Ssshh it’s not your fault… let’s get you inside”

You feel him nod ever so slightly and then you lead him towards barrington house, all whilst trying to stay away from prying eyes of the community.

“I’m so glad you’re home, Daryl”

He didn’t reply with words but agreed internally, however, he meant it differently. It didn’t matter where he was, wherever you were was home and he’s so relieved to still have that.

This is so badly written, I’m sorry! But Tysm for the prompt! This was pretty fun to write.

#daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl dixon angst #negan #tumblr fyp #writers on tumblr #fanfic #daryl dixon drabbles

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lets-try-some-writing · 8 months ago

Note

Anon angst! May I request some Smokescreen being a prime angst? More likely, what would the team think that Smokescreen is the new prime and OP's death? :3

Anon, you know EXACTLY what to ask me for. *cracks knuckles*

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Optimus's vitals were completely untraceable. That could have meant he had been offline since the blast from the Nemesis or that he was hiding somewhere. Logically, Ratchet was inclined to believe in the former of the two scenarios. No mech, not even a Prime, could walk away from such devastation unscathed. Even Prima himself fell before the might of enough blasters and bolter shells.

Even still, the small hope that Optimus still lived kept Ratchet moving. There was no body yet. There was no Matrix. No confirmation that his Prime was gone. There was still time, and while there was still time, Megatron had to be stopped. His rulership of Earth could not be allowed to continue.

And so Ratchet handled the groundbridge while the team and Ultra Magnus went to war. Smokescreen was unaccounted for, but his groundbridge had also been rather unstable. His signal was, much like Optimus's, similarly untraceable. The rookie was too energetic to die. Yet another reason Ratchet wanted to believe that Optimus was still functioning, if only in some dark hole in the ground. He had to believe in something, and so he believed in his Prime as he guided the team in their work.

The battle began to spiral quickly. Their numbers were too few and even with Ratchet and Rafael throwing themselves into coordination, there was little that could be done. Their hope was dwindling, and as it did so, Ratchet found himself praying to a god that may or may not have even been real, begging for Optimus to again rise from the ash and smoke as he had done countless times before.

"Ratchet! Look!" Rafael pointed to the screen frantically, and within moments, Ratchet was speaking to the entire team with disbelief and fearful hope.

"It's an Autobot signal, but its... airborne." The signal was strange and largely unrecognizable. It had no ID attached, but its size specs fell well within Optimus's range. With Ultra Magnus fighting for his life, Ratchet could only come to the conclusion that his Prime had, again, somehow wormed his way out of death.

He smiled and his spark sang as he watched the signal. He had no video feed of the events playing out, but he could hear the sounds of exclamation from the team. He could hear Optimus's weapons firing through the team's open comm links and he could hear Megatron's scream of rage. Optimus was back. He was alive-

"Soldier... what is your designation?" Ultra Magnus's voice broke through the blur of joy and relief that flooded Ratchet's mind as the battle drew to a close and the team gathered to begin the trip back. The children sat a little closer to the screen, watching the Autobot signals clumped together as they listened to the audio coming through.

Did Ultra Magnus really not recognize his brother in arms after so long? Perhaps time and the damage from the blast were merely making things difficult for him to see-

"Nebulous Prime. The inheritor of the title Last of the Primes." The voice that came through the link was deep and baritone just like Optimus's. But there was a youthful lightness to it, a sweetness and silky sound that came from those who had not yet spent millennia screaming orders on the battlefield. There was no rattle or gruffness to his tone, whoever this Nebulous might be.

Ice cold fear shot into Ratchet's spark as he fell silent. He stopped listening to the audio and paced frantically as he waited for the team to arrive. It couldn't be possible. This wasn't possible. Optimus ALWAYS came back. Even from the brink of death. There was no way there was a new Prime. This had to be a mistake.

Optimus would never die. Not to Megatron.

"Ratchet, I'm sorry." Arcee came forward first. She looked tired on a spark deep level. The rest of the team followed her as she entered the hangar that Ratchet had moved everything to. The children watched with nervous eyes, their gazes uncertain as Bumblebee stepped forward next. His doorwings were dipped and he merely shook his helm, dried coolant streaks staining his face. Bulkhead and Wheeljack were came after him. Neither were pleased and both seemed grim.

"What happened? Where is Optimus?" Desperation laced his voice, and he was sure he sounded a moment away from breaking down into tears. He frantically scanned each of the team, silently assessing their minor wounds while he searched for familiar red and blue paint. Ultra Magnus was the last to come forward, and he held himself with as much grace as was possible considering the damage he had sustained.

Ultra Magnus opened his intake to speak, but his vocalizer halted. He looked to the ground, seemingly trying to come up with the words he wanted to say. Ratchet shook ever so slightly, his usually steady servos twitching erratically as he fought against his growing fears. Optimus couldn't be gone. Not for good.

"Step aside Commander." The command echoed in the hangar, and everyone froze as a mech stepped in with imposing but soft pedesteps. He was tall, just as tall as Optimus, if not slightly shorter. He strode forward with grace that was unnatural, seemingly new to the mech as he focused on his steps. Most of his frame was obscured in shadow as he approached Ratchet and the team. But for the briefest of moments, Ratchet saw familiar blue optics cycling wide in greeting.

He almost believed his faulty vision. But then the mech stepped into the light, and Ratchet's entire world came crumbling down.

"I am Nebulous Prime... I am sorry that this is how we have to meet again." Blue, yellow, and white. The colors were wrong, the frame shape was wrong. The new and deadly weapons weren't of the right caliber. The doorwings now made flight capable were nothing like the smokestacks that Ratchet knew and familiarized himself with. The face that greeted him was too young, even with the new and very clearly Primely classical additions.

This was not Optimus. This was not his Prime.

"No... Optimus always comes back." His whispered denial echoed in the silent base. Ratchet could feel his systems heaving in panic and grief, and yet he was helpless to stop it as the Prime before him frowned in that all familiar and yet entirely new manner Ratchet found dooming above all else.

"Optimus Prime became one with the allspark roughly six hours ago. The damage he sustained was too great, and he refused to use the Forge of Solus Prime when I brought it to him." The mech who was once Smokescreen shifted on his pedes. He looked like Orion just after he returned from Primus's core. Uncertain and confused.

Ratchet could not find it in himself to have any sympathy.

"He told me to restore the Omega Lock and Cybertron." Nebulous spoke with a commanding air that even he seemed unsettled by. The team looked to him instinctually, watching his every word and action as they once did for Optimus. Ratchet merely seethed.

What had Smokescreen done to be worthy? What had he done to warrant his life being preserved over Optimus's?

"YOU SHOULD HAVE RESTORED HIM INSTEAD!" A venomous cry escaped him before he could stop it. His plating flared, his fists shook, and never more in his life did he wish he had a valid reason to strike a mech.

"Despite his shortcomings, he always found a way! He, WE would have found some way to fix the Omega Lock without the Forge!" Nebulous watched him with tired optics that were unfitting of his youth. He frowned and seemed to watch Ratchet with a vague sense of detachment. The team refused to meet Ratchet's gaze as he tried to vent.

"Cybertron and our people take priority over any one mech. Even if that mech is a Prime." Nebulous declared softly. Ratchet almost saw red as he reached up and grabbed the new Prime by his neck guard, forcing to Ratchet's level.

"That mech was YOUR PRIME!" He could feel coolant begin to gather in his optics. He ignored his blurring vision in favor of watching in hatred as Nebulous remained still.

"He led us through the darkness!" He remembered Orion Pax and how he had gathered armies to lead forth to war. He was still just an archivist. He was no warframe, and he had never raised a weapon with intention to kill. Despite his fears and insecurities, he guided them all the same.

"He fought until the bitter end against every foe!" He remembered Optimus Prime, fresh from Primus's core and unsteady on his pedes. He had been so full of life then. So eager to throw himself into combat in order to preserve even one more life. Optimus's frame had been covered in so many scars by the time they left their world.

"He deserved to see our home restored!" He remembered his Prime, the mech he had dutifully stood beside until the very end. Optimus didn't smile often anymore, but when he did, it was full of fond affection. They had been through everything together, and Ratchet had been of the belief that they would remain companions until the end.

Looking at Nebulous, he saw that familiar depth in the Prime's optics. But it was that wealth of hidden knowledge that left Ratchet reeling in the truth.

"He did. And if I could have changed things, I would have. I never wanted to be a Prime, but this is the burden that was given to me." Nebulous slowly removed Ratchet's servo and held it softly, kindly even. It was not how Optimus held his servo on those rare occasions where Ratchet's oldest friend felt the need to show his affection. Optimus liked to cling to one or two digits at a time, a soft brush that would not be noticeable to any watchers. Nebulous held his whole servo firmly, and yet with enough ease that Ratchet could easily break away.

"I am not Optimus. I do not have his skill or his experience. All I have are echoes of knowledge that I do not know how to find or apply." Meeting the new Prime's gaze, Ratchet's anger began to fade. In Nebulous's optics, there was indeed the knowledge of the Primes. But lingering in his optics was also fear. Primal and deep fear of the unknown just like Orion when he took on the mantle.

He looked so much like the scared archivist Ratchet had spent vorns upon vorns comforting as he grew into his station. It was painfully familiar, but also saddening. Just a cycle ago, Smokescreen had stood before him, eager and willing to jest and fight at a moment's notice. Now a terrified youngling held himself with as much strength as he was able, desperately trying to not show his terror.

"I am not used to this frame. I am not used to this weight on my mind and spark." He shifted on his pedes, and only then did Ratchet see the way his new wings dipped to the ground, a form of communication any mech could easily read as distress. Nebulous's kibble was heavy and while he had been reformed to handle the weight, his unused arm hung limply at his side. Guns and other weapons seemed to crush him.

He was used to speed, but now he was a proper weapon of war. Just as Optimus had changed, Nebulous would as well. Given time, his frame would continue to shift until the Matrix was settled. But until then, he would continue to carry weight that Optimus had been comfortable with, but Smokescreen likely never would find himself at ease with.

"I am not Optimus." A tremor rang out in Nebulous's voice. For a moment, he looked like Smokescreen again. He looked scared and lost without his idol to lead him. Ratchet wanted to be upset, but the longer he watched, the more he found himself easing into his new and unspoken role.

Nebulous was lost. He bore the burden well enough for now, but he was grieving and enduring the weight of the Primacy all at once. Ratchet could weep later, in private. For now, he had work to do.

"But I will finish what he started, if only to honor him." Nebulous looked defeated even with his proud statement. The team looked to him in concern and then to Ratchet for guidance. Ratchet was the eldest amongst them. They needed a leader.

"We will finish what he started." Nebulous startled, his optics wide and his wings perking up. He must have expected Ratchet to decide to leave or possibly defect.

Maybe he would have if Nebulous didn't look so much like Orion Pax. Maybe he would have joined Megatron in order to kill him from the inside.

But not now. Not when Optimus's legacy stood on the brink of collapse.

"We will end this war." He clasped Nebulous's servo and hastily schooled his expression. Optimus would be avenged. But in the meantime, Nebulous needed all the help he could get.

Just as Ratchet had been a friend to Optimus Prime, he would be a guide to Nebulous, the Last of the line of Primes.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #team prime #ratchet #alternate universe #bumblebee #arcee #bulkhead #wheeljack #ultra magnus #tfp kids #smokescreen #the matrix of leadership #angst #optimus prime dies yet again #huzzah for pain for dear old smokey

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jujutsukaisenwriting · 4 months ago

Text

Drunk Nanami - Confession

woah, I've been having this idea for a while and felt inspired to write a cute little drabble on drunk Nanami. enjoy! word count: <1000 tags: nanami x reader, fluff

image credit: link

“I wanna pin you to the bed so bad and have my way with you like I’ve been craving for the past fucking year, you absolute disaster to my sanity”.

At first, when you open the text and read it, you can’t quite comprehend the meaning behind these words. Though the text is soaked in not-so-pure intentions of the sender, the wording is weirdly… gentleman’ish.

Then you finally notice the sender’s name and make a perfect “O” with your mouth.

Kento fucking Nanami? Really?

You would expect a filthy text from Gojo because that’s just something he does. Hell, you’ve even received plenty of dick picks from Toji though you’ve met the guy just once and during that encounter, he was head to toe covered in blood and someone else’s guts. But Nanami?

You stared at your smartphone for a while, not really knowing what to say.

It’s not like you didn’t want it. In fact, the situation was pretty much the opposite: you desired it badly. As soon as you walked in the office one year ago and saw him towering over the coffee machine, adjusting his tie with precise movements, you knew he’d be the death of you. And during this whole year, Nanami was a perfect gentleman to everyone, including you.

It was always “good morning, how are you today?” or “take care, they say it might rain later”. And it was never “hey let’s grab dinner together” or “your ass looks fire in these pants”. Of course, that was part of his charm — but on the other hand, you never knew how he’d react if you ever… tried anything.

The screen lit up with another text.

“Don’t you have anything to say, dollface? Usually your pretty mouth is overworking whenever I look at you in the office. And I bet I can put it to better use than discussion of some dull numbers”.

“Nanami, are you drunk?”, you texted the first thought that came to you and groaned, hiding your face in your hands.

“What if I am?”, the incoming text read.

And another incoming text, the one that made your heart skip a beat or two.

“Can I come over?”

*** ***

The doorbell rang loudly, announcing his arrival. You cursed under your breath, hoping the neighbors wouldn’t listen. After you took one final deep breath and glanced in the mirror, you went to the door, opening it.

Kento was standing there, in front of you, his usual tie around his neck and his perfectly ironed shirt missing two top buttons and revealing a painfully muscular chest. As soon as you opened, he lifted his gaze, his deep brown eyes meeting yours.

“Damn, you did let me come over”, he smiled and walked casually through the door in your apartment as if he had visited it before. You followed, too dumbfounded to say anything but Kento didn’t give you a chance to even open your mouth. After taking a step or two and hearing you closing the door, he turned around swiftly and threw his arms around you, pulling you close.

“I’ll devour you”, his lips trailed on your neck, pausing at an earlobe and making your blood boil. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do it”.

“Why didn’t you?”

You somehow managed to ask questions, given the state you were in: pressed to his body, his hands roaming over your waist, back, hips, and hair. Nanami was a starved man, desperate for you, and you felt his intense hunger growing with every second.

“Because I was never 100% sure you’d want it”, he whispered, his lips now mere inches from yours. “Because you are too good for someone like me. Because of a hundred more made-up reasons that I always use when I’m too scared by a good thing”.

“And now the alcohol made your fears go away”, you chuckled nervously, hypnotized by the look in his eyes. You’ve never seen him like this before. Right now, Nanami was the complete opposite of his usual self. He was… liberated? Was it the right word?

Nanami just sighed, resting his forehead against yours. He smelled wonderfully: rich woody scent mixed with something fresh like pine. The cologne crept in your nostrils, making a steady way towards a secret place in your heart. A place reserved for him only though you both didn’t know it yet.

“Can I ask for something?” He said suddenly, and your heart fluttered. Was he about to kiss you? Did he want to drag you in the bed? Was he interested in your body count?

You tensed up involuntarily, preparing for his question. Kento looked you dead in the eyes, his expression growing a bit more serious and determined.

“Can you… make me a sandwich?”, he asked shyly. “To be honest, I’m starving. Didn’t expect you’d actually invite me over so I was planning to eat at home”.

He chuckled awkwardly, and you burst into genuine laughter, grabbing his forearms and feeling incredibly at ease. So this drunk man who’d been wanting you for a whole fucking year just came in to ask for a sandwich? Wow.

“Yea, I’ll make two”, you wiped tears from your eyes, still giggling.

“Good. And I’ll make us breakfast in the morning”, he gave you a coy smile, his hands still wrapped around you.

“So… you mean you wanna stay over?”

“I wanna stay forever”, he kissed you softly. “If you don’t mind”.

You looked around, noticing how perfectly domestic Nanami looked in your apartment and nodded with a smile.

“Sounds good to me”.

He smiled back, his whole face lightening up. He then leaned in to you with a knowing smile.

“And by the way…”

You raised a brow, intrigued.

“I’m not drunk, sweetheart. Was just pushing my lack and damn, seems like I caught lightning in a bottle”.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fanfic #nanami kento #jujutsu nanami #nanami headcanons #jjk headcanons #nanami x reader #husband nanami #nanami fluff #kento nanami #jjk nanami #jjk fluff

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taintandviolent · 2 years ago

Text

I held my nose I closed my eyes - I took a drink; Jimmy x Reader

Summary: Reader is a hypnotist. Jimmy, in one of his drunken nights, cleans out his own supply and stumbles into your caravan to clean you out too. What he finds... is sooo much better. [warnings: 18+! sex pollen fic!! shameless, explicit smut, I'm so serious. female receiving, oral sex, rough sex, mentions of alcohol.]

Also! Hugely inspired by @silverzoomies' mindbogglingly good Quicksilver sex pollen fic - the queen of sex pollen as far as I'm concerned!! Please read it if you haven't!!

taglist: @kaismanwich / @elsamars / @thewolveswithin / @petersevans / @marylovesevanpeters / @80strashbag / @redwoodghost / @silverzoomies / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @evansb1tch / @yesdevineruler / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @evanpetersfansblog / @kaissweetlamb / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @my-own-walker/ @viharmonscorner / @nova-kayne67 / ask to be added!

ao3 link here! | full fic under the cut!

The calliope breathed its melodic tune as your fingers curled back towards your palm. The man in front of you was glassy-eyed and pliable.

“Bark!” You snapped your fingers.

Almost immediately, the man let out a string of excited woofs, much to the delight of the audience. Laughs and scattered applause filled the tent, the loudest of laughs coming from the front row — from his presumed wife.

“Ladies and gentlemen! While I am using hypnotism for your pleasure and amusement today, I implore you… to consider that hypnotism can be used for good. It can be used to cure sicknesses of addiction, turn the fearful into the brave… or perhaps make someone fall in love with you.”

The man swayed languidly back and forth, following your graceful fingers as they swept through air. You brought the man’s attention to you with one finger, whispering soft words of release. You snapped your fingers for a final time and the man came to, dropped back into his own reality in a mess of confusion and wobbly knees. Unbeknownst to you, this regular Joe wasn’t the only man unsteady on his feet. A dozen or so yards away, the beloved Lobster Boy was drunkenly stumbling into your trailer, looking for some more booze to drown his woes.

As he stood in front of your cabinet, he surveyed the collection. Dried herbs, crystals, some of those cards that he’d seen the travelling gypsies use… and a ton of bottles. Scanning until he found something that most resembled some liquor — though everything was questionable — Jimmy palmed the one of the two largest bottles, lifting it to the light to get a better look. The dark liquid sloshed heavily around inside, and while he knew he was drunk, he could’ve sworn it sparkled.

Flipping the cork out with his thumb, Jimmy pinched his nose, squeezed his eyes shut and threw the contents of the bottle into the back of his throat, having enough to sense to avoid whatever taste was going to meet him. Whatever it was went down smoothly, leaving a syrupy, sweet coating on his throat. A line of deep burgundy trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his tongue flicked out to catch it.

“Hooo,” he grimaced and shuddered hard enough to lose his grip on the bottle. It clattered to the floor loudly. “That’s rough.”

His throat felt warm, but the feeling started in his thighs, of all places. Underneath his dusty black jeans, the muscles felt like he’d gone and pressed them against a bed of coals. It was hot in Jupiter, not that hot — but Jimmy Darling felt like he had the fever of the century. Sweat beaded at his hairline, running salty ribbons down his temples.

And then, he felt it. Concealed in his cotton briefs, heat rushed to his groin at breakneck speed. It couldn’t have taken more than thirty seconds for his cock to stand at attention as though he’d been working it up all night. His jeans tented and the pressure wasn’t very forgiving. No, it was downright painful. The blood switched heads and he could think of nothing else but you. Jimmy wanted to be inside you, feeling your weeping cunt clench with each thrust. He wanted to lick his fingers clean of your — “Come on!”

Jimmy drew the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping at the sweat. As the seconds ticked by, his body temperature continued to climb. He knew he had to do something before he actually became a lobster, bright red and steaming. With one hand, Jimmy unbuckled his pants and yanked the button free of its slit. The small give in restriction allowed his stiff cock to breathe, but Jimmy pulled the elastic of his briefs under his balls, wincing at the static electric feeling that physical touch brought.

His cock sprung free, bouncing heavily. It looked full, and pre-cum was already leaking out the velvet soft tip. He couldn’t describe it mentally any other way — needs emptyin’.

You had graciously taken one more participant before making your way back to your caravan, pulling your high heels off as soon as you were out of the tent. You padded softly across the grass, humming some disjointed melody. The tips had been good tonight, and you’d been looking forward to the iced tea in your tiny little fridge all day. "…Gotta’ hank o’ hair and a piece o’ bone and made a walkin’-talkin’ honeycomb.”

Stepping onto the wood crates that served as doorsteps, you pulled the door towards you, still singing quietly.

“…well uh honeycomb, wontcha’ be my baby, well uh honeycomb wontcha’ be my own — ”

With your index finger still curled around the handle of the screen door, your body froze, voice leaving your throat. Jimmy Darling leaned against your bed. Not just that — Jimmy Darling leaned against your bed, caramel locks plastered to his forehead with sweat. His pants were undone in his lap, and his fused fingers were glistening with his own cum. You’d only looked at it for a split second before you clamped your hand over your eyes, but it wasn’t soon enough to stop the visual searing its way into your brain. The way the swollen, red tip slid through his conjoined fingers as he clumsily tried to jerk himself off…

At the sound of the door, Jimmy immediately started crawling towards you, muttering desperate words of gratitude. Like a hound on the scent of a rabbit, his nose had clocked the earthy sweetness of your perfume oil the second you’d walked in. He needed to get closer to it and to you. There was another smell — a sweeter one — that he licked off his lips as he made a beeline for you.

“Oh, baby, baby, baby….” He growled low, words separated by hiccups. “I’m real glad you’re here. I messed up… uhhuuummmm - real bad.”

On his knees in front of you, Jimmy wrapped his hands around your legs, claws stroking the backs of your knees. Paired with the fact that he’d never called you baby, the contrast of his warm, strong hands against your delicate legs gripped your core, setting the first trap of arousal. A moment later, his lips collided with your shins, feverishly peppering kisses along them as he worked his way up.You closed your eyes, exhaling hard through your nose.

His head dove under your skirt and you let out a shrill yelp.

“J-Jimmy Darling! Stop, stop!” You wrenched your leg from his grip, his slick fingers gliding off your calf muscle as you hastily stepped around him. “What in the hell has gotten into you!?”

He fell forward onto his hands, letting out a sound you’d never heard a man make. His dick hung heavy between his legs and thick strands of pre-cum swelled from the tip, stringing to the floor with every slight movement of his hips. His lust just wouldn’t stop yelling, drowning out every other rational thought he had. It was as loud as when Elsa brought her megaphone to the stage, shouting orders at the top of her lungs -- louder maybe. Jimmy reached for his aching cock to give it a few desperate pumps, tightening his grip as he drew towards the base. The sensation crippled him, bringing him forward onto his face. …so damn sensitive…. I need her…..

He’d always been able to satisfy himself, even as drunk as he was now; after every meeting with the Girls, when some gal in the crowd got a little too flirty — he’d never had an issue taking himself in his pincers and rubbing one out. But this… this wasn’t enough and he was damn tired.

Every cell in your body was begging you to keep staring at the way he handled himself, alternating between stroking the thick shaft, and doing quick, smaller thrusts to stimulate the ruby tip. Jimmy groaned into the vinyl floor of your trailer as he decorated it with strings of white.

Did he just cum…?

Underneath your skirt, your cunt fluttered with a bloom of heat.

Although it had been difficult to walk away, you somehow managed and stopped just short of your kitchen counter, which had been converted into a short shelf. All of your tonics, amulets and tools of your craft were neatly arranged there. Were. They were…. Previously. The empty space in your cabinet was suddenly very apparent.

Suddenly noticing that you had left — or maybe he smelled that you had left, Jimmy’s lids peeled away from each other. He turned his head just enough to stare up at you with heavy-lidded eyes. The curve of your ass underneath your skirt made his dick twitch upwards, reaching for relief. With his cheek smashed against the vinyl flooring, Jimmy’s words were distorted behind you. “Aaah— you’re sucha’…. dream Dolly, you know that?”

You closed your eyes, kicking your foot to the side. It collided with something, with an unmistakable tink! just like you’d predicted it would. Sucking in another deep breath, you dropped your gaze to your feet. A very empty amber bottle had been tossed haphazardly to the floor.

You heard him shuffling to his feet behind you, catching himself on whatever surface was near enough for him to grip. Through ragged pants, he continued. “I’ve always thought that — ever since you got here, the very first day…. Laid eyes on you and thought ‘Hot damn! We’ve got a sex-pot headlining.’ Youkn—”

“Jimmy…?” you asked, warningly. Planting both of your hands firmly on the counter, you pacified your mind, lassoing it in from the field of panic-stricken thoughts. “Tell me you didn’t drink this whole thing….”

Instead of dispelling your fears, a broad chest pressed against your back and two arms wound themselves around the front of your hips. Jimmy’s body felt like a furnace against yours, and the sudden pressure between your ass cheeks had you clawing the laminate countertop like a feral animal.

He’s still hard as a rock…

He was sweaty and smelled like sun and liquor; a smell that you’d become very attracted to in the few weeks you’d been here. Every time he passed by, you’d inhale, filling your lungs with it. He kissed the nape of your neck like he’d just got home from work, missing you all day.

“How many times have you orgasmed?” You didn’t want to know the answer.

“Mmm, only uh’ couple times…. I’m sss-sorry baby…” he slurred, pressing his face into your hair, loudly inhaling the scent of it. His voice was barely a whisper, but it was so close to your ear, it sent shivers down your spine. “You aren’t mad at me, are ya?”

His little mistake wasn’t about having too much of his Mama’s hooch in that little flask she carried around. Well, maybe that too… You’d got those potions from a lady in New Orleans in 1946 and she’d warned you about the dosage… “a silver teaspoon, nothin’ more, you understand?” She said it came straight from Marie Laveau and wasn’t to be trifled with. Jimmy Darling had consumed a whole bottle and now, his swollen cock was dribbling into the cotton fabric of your skirt.

“No,” you breathed shakily, reaching up to press your middle finger to the bridge of your nose. “I’m not… but you’re in for a real storm, Jimmy Darling. It’s — was— love potion, you know that?”

“Love potion, huh? Didn’t think that was real.” He questioned lazily how to fix it, more interested in his hands sliding up your stomach, manoeuvring until they’d found skin.

“You have to do what you were put on Earth to do. That basic instinct — and I sure I wish I could tell you once would be enough. But Jimmy,” you paused, inhaling sharply. “The dose for a man of your size is a teaspoon.”

“A man of my size…” Woozy chuckles vibrated your shoulders. “Seems like you’re the gal to see — you know an awful lot about it.”

Frustrated, you cocked your hip to the side, doing your best to sort out the thoughts. You knew the only solution was to fuck it out of his system, but you hadn’t really thought you’d be ending your night with him. Jimmy let out a loud moan, bucking his hips further in between your legs. You felt the heat of it, searing through the thin fabric. He bucked again and rolled his forehead along your shoulders, whining.

“Hooo…. you can’t move like that, baby. I’ll flip.”

You whimpered his name as you lifted your eyes to the ceiling, cursing whatever deities were looking down on you, waiting on bated breath for your next move. You’d waited a long time for something like this. So long in fact, that you had almost turned to waving your enchanting fingers in front of his face, like one of the ticket-holders, hypnotising him to look at you for longer than a few minutes. Instead, his mercurial alcoholism had planted him right in front of you. Well, behind you.

With his hips still rutting into you, grinding incessantly, he murmured into your ear: “I’m sorry I’m actin’ this way… but you haveta’ help me, baby…. Help me, please… I’m gonna’ lose my mind if I do—“

“I know, Jimmy.”

As you walked your legs out to the sides, you hoisted the back of your skirt above your ass. Watching intently, he backed his hips up allowing you room to reach between your legs and search for him. Your fingertips grazed the base, just above his balls. With a final prayer that Jimmy Darling wouldn’t forget about you as soon as the potion had run its course in his body, you wrapped your fingers around his shaft, already slick with a generous coating of pre-cum, and guided him in between your thighs.

Jimmy’s hands were suddenly at your hips, taking fistfuls of your skirt and shoving it up towards the small of your back. With a grunt, he wound one of his claws around the hem of your satin underwear, wiggling it down from one side. He thrust his hips forward and the hot tip slipped past your entrance, grinding into your clit from the underside.

Jimmy’s low, honey voice was reduced to high pitched whimpers and broken whines. Your insides pulsed with a hungry need…

“Hoh-god…”

“No,” you spat. “This isn’t right, not like this. Jimmy, I really —“

He didn’t let you finish. Conjoined fingers gripped your biceps hard, spinning you around so fast, the intent was blurry. For a minute, his face was contorted, frustrated and the way his chest heaved wound a nervous coil in your stomach.

Instead of striking you, or whatever you thought he was going to do, Jimmy crushed his lips against you, desperate for any sort of erotic contact. His hands found their way to your breasts, cupping them, while his thumb flicked at your nipples over the fabric. “I gotta’ have you, honey…”

You pursed your lips, tightening them into a thin line. In one fluid, frustrated motion, you pulled your shirt over your head. You unclasped your bra, holding his gaze and barked: “Then, take me.”

He forced his tongue into your mouth. You remembered the time you’d bit into a honeycomb as a child. As sweet as you thought it would be, and as sweet as it was, there was something very overwhelming about it. There was a word for it — cloying. As he explored your mouth, Jimmy tasted bitter, and cloyingly sweet… and god, was he drooling? There was so much spit that you had to swallow a mouthful just to avoid choking. His tongue wrestled with yours, teeth biting at your lips until they were red and swollen.

Your lids snapped open and you felt your pupils dilate. A warm, sweet heat rose from the base of your throat, filling your mouth. There were hints of honey, and spices, and underneath a very bitter fruitiness.

Oh… oh no.

He didn’t know what was going on inside of you, but he revelled in the way you started moaning and whimpering into his mouth, grinding your cunt against his groin. Jimmy’s hands dropped to grip the soft, pillowy flesh of your hips, his thumb pressing into the softness. “Fuck baby, your body… you can’t see these hips under that skirt you wear all the time.”

“This ain’t enough,” he cooed, pushing you towards your small sofa-bed with kisses. “I need to fill you up, Y/N….”

You were more than willing to let him guide you to the bed; though you knew the majority of your disposition was due to you already having a big, silly crush on him. Jimmy lowered himself down, one knee at a time, keeping his eyes locked on the table laid in front of him.

Hastily, Jimmy pulled your skirt to the floor, kicking it behind him. He made quick work of your underwear too — though those didn’t join the pile of clothes. He lifted those, the satin fabric dangling from one of his thickened fingers, swaying back and forth. You did your best to avoid looking at the wet spot you’d left in the crotch of them, though Jimmy seemed to have locked onto that and only that.

“Pink, huh?”

You chewed your bottom lip bashfully. “I’m not all crystal balls and veils, Jimmy…”

At those words, his eyes flashed to your cunt, pupils dilating. He chucked your underwear over his shoulder, refocusing his attention onto you. Jimmy spread your pussy with his knuckles, exposing the pink, glistening flesh. His laboured breaths slowed as he focused, watching every clench and twitch. “Baby, baby, baby….”

He was just staring at it. Your cunt ached as he teased it with feather-light touches.

“Can I?”

You moaned, asking for clarification. Not that you needed it — he could do whatever he wanted to you and he wouldn’t hear a peep of protest from you. You were a mess, like butter in his claws.

“Can I eat it, baby? I’m hungry… I’m a growin’ boy…”

It took a lot of effort to lift your head to look at him. You were swimmy; everything felt rose-tinted.

“Yeah,” you nodded, wetting your throat. “Yeah, Jimmy, but I think if you grow any more… we’ll have a problem.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, pausing to look at himself. It was true; his cock had never been this hard, and the tip was such a deep red that it was heading to plum.

With one segment buried deep inside your slick cunt and the other curled back towards his palm, Jimmy leaned in. His plush lips pressed tenderly against her, tongue slipping out to taste her in between kisses. You strained against his grip, writhing like a worm on a hook.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, finally pulling away from her. His chin was glistening — you almost wanted to apologise for the mess you’d made. He didn't seem to mind though, as he reached up, wiping at his chin with his hand. The way his thick, fleshy segments looked coated in your wetness, the way they caught the dull, yellow lighting of your trailer — it was enough to make you cum right then and there. You collapsed back on the bed in a mess of whimpers and Jimmy took that opportunity to dive back in.

He caved his tongue to envelop your clit, the vibrations of his moans sending a shockwave through your core. Before he started pumping his fingers in and out, Jimmy Darling did something that could’ve sent you into another dimension; he just sucked at your clit, flicking his tongue over the most sensitive spot he could.

He slurped at your cunt like an ice cream cone, one that was melting faster than he could catch — but he did a damn good job of getting every drop. He was loud and sloppy. He’s so hungry for it…

Your body trembled violently as you came, grinding against his mouth as long as you could before he backed up, dipping his head further in between your legs so he could feel the clench of your orgasm around his tongue.

He straightened up with a satisfied ‘Mmm’, jerking his head to the side with a smile. “Sweet as candy, baby…”

Crossing his arms over his torso, Jimmy pulled his white undershirt up and over his shoulders before tossing it behind him. Ribbons of sweat streamed down the tanned skin, leaving glittering lines across his chest.

“Jimmy,” you whined. “Hand me the other bottle.”

He obeyed, reaching behind him for it. His big hand closed around the cool, brown glass, and brought the cork to his mouth. His teeth clamped down and yanked it free. A small whiff of the potion inside made his eyes roll back, but he quickly regained control, looking down at you with a devilish little smirk. He knew exactly what you’d planned to do. He took one generous gulp, swallowed, and said:

“Open up, toots.”

You obeyed, and Jimmy Darling poured the love potion — too, too much of it down your throat. You coughed, sputtering some of it onto the pillow of your bottom lip, and he lapped it up.

The devil worked fast, but hoodoo potions worked faster.

Sweat beaded up from every pore, coating your body in an aroused sheen. You’d felt like you’d been sunbathing all afternoon, with no lake or pool in sight. You felt like your cunt was on fire. It had a heartbeat as strong as the one encased in your ribs. You had one thing on your mind — and that thing was stroking himself as he watched the change in you.

“Ohhhh, shit….” He took a deep breath, inhaling the pheromones that had abruptly filled the tiny space. You smelled them too, and the adrenaline dump made your muscles quiver. Jimmy’s dark brown eyes were wild as they locked onto your eyes, his cheeks flushed red. “Oh, now we’re cookin’.”

You jerked forward. You needed him, you needed every bit of him and the idea of teasing him drove you wild. You raked your nails along his heated stomach, tracing a line of hair the colour of brown sugar, following it down to a bush of the same shade. With your bottom lip swelling between your teeth, you planted both hands on his torso and dropped your head between your shoulders to tease him with your breath. You exhaled over the reddened tip, watching in delight as it twitched closer to you. Your lips ghosted over it, suctioning around just the tip. You swallowed, and opened your mouth wider, letting your tongue flop onto the underside of his shaft.

“Fuck…FUCK!”

Jimmy came undone, clenching his teeth as he bucked his hips against your mouth. Up and down, your head bobbed, stroking his cock with your mouth. Your cheeks caved as you hungrily swallowed the ropes of cum that hit the back of your throat.

That didn’t last long. With a strong hand, he guided you back, pushing you back onto the bed. You felt the mattress shift to Jimmy’s weight as he climbed behind you.

“C’mere, baby… lay this way.”

He guided you into a horizontal positioning, curling his body behind yours. His chest pressed against your back, warm and slick with sweat. His soft lips scattered kisses along the nape of your neck, down your shoulder.

Jimmy gripped your leg at the thigh, holding it straight. His cock was rock hard, and a thick, clear glob of pre-cum welled from the slit on his head as he lined up to your swollen, aching pussy. Your jaws ache at the sight of it, wanting to smear it over your lips like a gloss.

“You wanna’….” He inhaled a shaky breath. “You wanna’ feel the motion of the ocean, baby?”

You squeaked out a ‘yeah’. After nuzzling his nose behind your ear, The Lobster Boy jerked his hips so hard that the stretch of your cunt had you wincing and grinding your teeth together. But god, that feels so good… He sunk in, bottoming out almost right away — but the rhythm that boy had…. He was fast. He was fast, and he whined every time your cunt had swallowed half, shuddering the rest of it in. Every few thrusts, Jimmy would bunny-hump you with his cock deep inside, revelling in the way your cunt hugged his girth — squeezed it, even.

You, on the other hand, were feeling like your body was going to burst into flames at any moment. Your pussy had hardly had any time to recover, but you screamed out another orgasm, pulsating around The Lobster Boy.

He pulled out quickly, his ink-pool eyes glittering with a new position. With his dick secured in his hand, Jimmy got to his feet, stepping carefully off onto the floor. He let go to snatch you at the waist and wrench you harshly to the edge of the bed.

“Go, Jimmy…”

He pulled you forward slowly, dipping his chin to his chest to watch as your walls clenched around him. Your pussy was blush-red and swollen; a visual he’d treasure for the rest of his life. Once the tip of his head stretched past your entrance, Jimmy yanked your hips back against his. Hard. The sound your cheeks made when they slapped against his stomach drove him wild, and whatever apprehensions he had about hurting you went out the window.

Through unhesitating thrusts, he asked: “Doesit’ feel good, baby?”

You could only nod, seeing the ceiling of your trailer vibrate each time your bodies connected. The trailer has to be moving — he’s shaking the trailer, oh god.

“Say my name again.”

“Ji-Jimmy… oh my god, Jimmy!”

You were two orgasms in, and he was pounding a third out of you. The muscles in your legs were quivering, and losing strength quickly. Your vision was overexposed and twinkly, tears stained your cheeks.

“Jimmy - wait - wait, it’s too—“

You whimpered desperately, your fingers dropping away from your overstimulated clit. Jimmy straightened up, one hand moved to your shoulder, leaving the other still clamped on your hip. Your shrill screams were loud enough to break the barrier of your trailer, but when he tightened his grip on your shoulder to use it as leverage, you didn’t care.

He was fucking you deeper and harder than you’d ever been fucked, and maybe than he’d ever fucked. Blinded by ecstasy, he couldn’t hear a word. Every carnal instinct he had kicked into full-drive, galloping towards the finish line of pumping you full of his seed.

You turned your head, screaming into the mattress as your pussy shuddered one final time, leaking the wettest orgasm you’d ever had onto his cock. She clenched around his tip like a vice, and the sensation drove Jimmy to the edge.

The knot inside Jimmy unravelled all at once. He let out a deafening groan, spilling his pent-up load into you. Gush after gush flowed into you, and you could feel the hot fluid leaking from your cunt, splashing onto your thighs with each determined thrust he gave.

Eventually, his thrusts became spasmodic, shakily slowing to a stop. He collapsed atop you, and reached between your bodies, to tug his softening cock out of you, humming at the sensation.

“Y’know… I really do have the hots for you, baby…. I haven’t slept with a single girl since you waltzed in.”

He exhaled hard. “I gotta’ sleep, doll. I gotta.”

By the time you sat up and slipped your arms into a robe that was draped over a chair, Jimmy was already asleep. The way he curled up on your too-small bed, naked, one hand hanging off the side was easily one of the cutest things you’d seen since drifting to Jupiter. You wouldn’t know until he woke up, but if he was telling the truth…. You’d spend every last day worshipping the ground he walked on.

A delicate rapping pulled your attention from Jimmy, who had already started breathing deep in his sleep. Delicately, you pulled a blanket of yours over his bottom half, not wanting whoever was at the door to see him in all his glory.

You made your way to the door in no particular hurry, still floating Cloud Nine. Eventually, you toed open the door and leaned sleepily against the doorframe. The robe barely covered your chest, but at the sight of the visitor, all worries left.

“Have you seen Jimmy?” Maggie asked, her tone of perpetual annoyance making you smile. “I needed t—

“I have,” you cooed. “I sure have.”

Like the nosy bitch you knew she was, she poked her head in. It didn’t take her long to find him, and hear his soft snoring.

“Oh, drop dead twice,” she muttered, retreating.

You stopped, an amused smirk twisting your lips. So, she had wanted him. Clocked that one. “What, and look like you?”

Her wide eyes narrowed into slits, lips pursed indignantly. With a toss of her dirty blonde hair, she marched off towards the tent, fists clenched at your sides.

You might’ve felt bad for the poor wretch if Jimmy Darling’s cum wasn’t dripping down your thigh. Might’ve.

#tryin' something new with the headers... there aren't enough jimmy gifs and I need something better to match the vibe of my fics lmao #Jimmy Darling #Jimmy Darling smut #jimmy darling x reader #jimmy darling x you #ahs smut #american horror story smut #fanfiction #ahs fanfiction #ahs freak show #American Horror Story Freak Show #Evan Peters #myfics

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slut4thebroken · 2 years ago

Text

Russian Roulette

Pairing | Mitch Rapp x reader

Summary | Assassin!reader won’t talk. mitch knows just what to do to fix that Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, gun play, fear play, degradation, cnc (barely), breeding, face fucking, crying, edging, light praise, choking, brat taming, deep throating, Words | 8k Notes | Here it is folks! The long awaited russian roulette fic😌 I do plan to edit this again and republish it in the future but I’m happy with it for now. Enjoy!! (p.s. I’m more likely to post stuff that isn’t completely perfect in my eyes (even tho it’s literally still good lmao) if I have positive reinforcement😭 just an fyi if y’all want more💀) Ao3 link | <3 Masterlist

It was supposed to be a simple mission. One you’ve done hundreds of times by now.

Seduce the target, then kill the target.

Every mission, your boss gives you a name, picture, location, and time. That’s how you found yourself at a hotel bar, wearing a skimpy dress and strappy heels, waiting for Mitch Rapp.

You’re excited for this one. Usually the men are either old perverts or young, inexperienced, and cocky. But every once in a while there'd be a man who’d challenge you. A man who made the game exciting. And Mitch seems like that kind of man.

You sipped your drink and looked around the bar. Finally you saw him walk in. He went to the opposite side of the bar and ordered a drink. When he looked up, he caught your eyes. You didn’t look away and just gave him a small smile. His face was emotionless but you didn’t let that deter you. You leaned forward with your elbows on the bar, pushing your breasts together, and watched as his eyes followed the movement. When his drink was set in front of him, he grabbed it then started walking toward you, making you laugh internally. Men are so easy.

“Hi.” You said, setting your drink down after he sat next to you.

“Hi.” His voice definitely matches his face.

“I’m Evelyn.” You lied.

“Dylan.” He lied as well. Your targets were rarely smart enough to use a fake name, usually too focused on your tits and the promise of a good fuck instead.

“Do you live around here?” You asked, twirling a piece of hair around your finger.

“No. I’m here on business.” He took a sip of his drink and looked you up and down, this time spending more time on your legs.

“Oh me too. Well, business and then a little vacation time before I have to go back.” Which was another lie. You never stay anywhere right after a mission. “Although I do have time for some fun before I have to work.” You gave him a small smirk and crossed your legs, making your dress ride up your thigh.

“Oh yeah? How much time?”

“Probably a couple hours. My boss is flexible.” Lie. He hates when you’re late. But you’re horny and, target or not, there’s a hot man in front of you. He can wait a little longer than planned.

“What do you say, Dylan? Wanna keep me company for a few hours?” You set your hand on his thigh lightly. When you started sliding it up, he grabbed your wrist, his fingers completely encircling it. Probably to keep you from finding a concealed weapon.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” He said lowly.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” You bit your lip, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “C’mon, let’s have some fun.” You leaned your face closer to his and felt his grip on your wrist tighten.

“I promise I’ll be a good girl.” You whispered, breath fanning against his lips. His eyes roamed your face for a few seconds before suddenly using his grip to pull you from your seat, over to the elevator. You’re thankful your purse was already on your shoulder because you definitely wouldn’t have remembered to grab it… And you definitely need it to finish the mission. Not that you can’t kill someone without a gun, it’s just easier.

You entered the elevator and he pushed the button for his floor. When the doors closed he slammed your back against the wall and pressed his lips to yours, making you moan in surprise. His hands gripped your waist tightly and yours went to his hair. He kissed you passionately, his tongue fighting for dominance with yours. When he rolled his hips into you, you pulled back with a gasp. He was quick to move to your neck, pressing kisses and leaving hickeys along the sides. You moaned again and his hand snaked down your leg then up your dress on the outside of your thigh.

“Oh my god!”

You both pulled away quickly. An older lady stood outside the elevator with her mouth open in shock. You hadn’t even heard the elevator ding. Mitch checked the floor number then swiftly exited, pulling you behind him.

“Sorry.” You gave the lady a sheepish smile as you walked past her. You entered his room quickly and he slammed you against the wall again. When his lips met yours, you started trying to push his jacket off his shoulders. He obliged then pulled back to take his shirt off.

You were too horny to think about what the proper reply should be when someone has scars like this. Maybe that’s what gave you away.

He pulled your purse off your shoulder and threw it on the dresser next to you. You internally cringed when it landed with a really loud thump, seeing as your phone and gun are both in it.

He kissed you again and started sliding both of his hands up the outside of your thighs, this time making sure to pull your dress up. He placed his leg between yours and you stifled a moan. When he bit your lip, you gave in, starting to grind on his thigh. His hands reached your hips and he gripped them tightly, forcing you to continue rocking against him.

Mitch moved to your neck again, leaving more hickeys and occasionally biting the sensitive skin. He reached your collar bones and continued down your chest but pulled back when he reached your dress. He looked at you with dark eyes then placed his hand on your neck. You gasped and started rutting against him harder.

He leaned his head down next to yours, putting his mouth by your ear, then whispered, “Who are you?”

“W-what?” You didn’t register the question, still focusing on grinding against him. He leaned back to look at you and tightened his hand on your neck, making you release a choked moan.

“Who the fuck are you?” Your hips stuttered to a stop. Shit. They never figure it out until there’s a gun to their head. Maybe he means something else. “Who do you work for?” He said, harsher this time.

Okay so he definitely doesn’t mean something else. Fuck. He slammed your head against the wall and you winced.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about. Dylan, you’re scaring me.” You said quietly.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” He growled. He tightened his grip, and even pushed on your windpipe, making you claw at his hand, trying to remove it.

“You’re hurting me.” You whimpered, feeling tears pool in your eyes from the lack of oxygen. “Dylan, please.” You gasped, letting the tears fall- all of it adding to your performance. His grip loosened and your chest heaved, trying to take in as much air as possible. Finally you caught your breath and then made your move- it’s too risky to stay in this position when you don’t know what he’s capable of.

You punched him in the nose and he stumbled back, clearly surprised. You ran the couple of steps to reach for your purse but were yanked back by your hair until you landed on the ground in front of him, his gun aimed at your head.

“Who are you?” He asked again, his voice harsher now.

There are three ways you can play this. Accept your fate, continue with the act and hope you fool him, or fight and finish the assignment. In reality, there was only one option because of your ego.

“Honestly I’m surprised you figured it out so soon. Most of them don’t until they’re already dead.” You smirked, looking up at him. “Although the few that do figure it out usually are smart enough to try and get their dick wet before doing anything.” His face remained emotionless and it only spurred you on.

“What gave me away?” You started taking off your heels, preparing for a fight or a quick escape. “C’mon Mitch,” You continued when he didn’t reply, “I gotta know how to improve for my next job.”

“Who are you?” You kept looking up at him and moved onto your knees, not giving him an answer. Suddenly, his gun hit your temple, the force making you fall onto your hip. You brought your hand up to feel the injury, no blood at least but it’ll definitely bruise.

“Fucking, dick! What was that for?”

“It’s going to get a whole lot worse for you if you don’t start answering my questions.”

“What are you gonna do? Shoot me?” He cocked the gun and held it closer to your head making you chuckle. “You won’t do that.”

“Why’s that?” He deadpanned.

“Because your dick’s still hard.” You whispered, placing a hand on his bulge, waiting for him to remove it. He looked you up and down and you could only imagine what you look like right now. Because based on what you can feel, your dress is dangerously low on your chest and high on your thighs, and not to mention the number of hickeys you probably have. He put his gun in the waistband of his pants behind him and you smirked triumphantly.

Mitch crouched in front of you and you tried to plan how you could grab either his gun off him or your own. One hand fisted your hair and roughly pulled your head back, making you gasp.

“I’m going to ask you again. And I’m going to keep asking and hurting you more and more until you finally tell me.”

“Who are you?” You kept your mouth shut and stared at him. He removed his hand from your hair to land a swift punch on your cheek before grabbing it again. The dull throbbing hurt like hell but you kept your poker face.

“Who do you work for?” When you didn’t answer, he punched you twice this time. You could taste the blood in your mouth and you debated spitting it in his face.

“You’re wasting your time. You might as well just kill me.” You wiped off some blood you felt dripping on the corner of your mouth. “I’ve been trained to endure every type of torture in the book.” He examined you again but this time you grew nervous under his gaze. Finally he hummed and stood up.

“You’re right. I’m going about this all wrong.”

“What?” You barely got the word out before he grabbed your hair again, lifting you off the floor and throwing you onto the bed. “What the hell are you doing??” You scrambled backwards to the head of the bed when he started moving toward you.

“Luckiky for you, I know a type of torture that’s not in the book. Take your dress off.”

“W- no!” He sighed and got on the bed, grabbing your ankles and pulling you until you laid on your back. Mitch grabbed the hem of your dress and ripped it in half easily. You wanted to be angry with him so badly… but the horny part of your brain is outweighing any logic right now.

He pulled the shreds of fabric off your body until you were left in just underwear- foregoing a bra earlier because of the dress’s low back.

Mitch straddled your hips and placed a hand on your neck, leaning down so his nose brushed yours. You closed your eyes, waiting, but you only felt his breath fan against your lips as he chuckled.

“You’re lucky I don’t just kill you right now.” He rasped. His hand moved up to grip your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout. “What do you say when I’m being so generous?”

Fuck you. Is what you wanted to say.

“Thank you…” You muttered, looking at the wall next to you. You assumed Mitch was satisfied because he released your face and sat up. He dragged his nails down your ribs and you hissed at the sting. Finally he reached your underwear.

“Such a fucking slut.” He mumbled under his breath and you bit your tongue. “No bra and this pathetic excuse for underwear? Baby, you’re just asking for it aren’t you?” He cooed. You wanted to beat the patronizing tone right out of him, but you couldn’t help the reaction you actually had. He smirked when he noticed you clenching your thighs together beneath him.

Mitch grabbed your underwear and ripped it in half, a lot easier than your dress. He removed the fabric and you started squirming under him. His hands held your hips still and his thumb brushed across your mound, teasing you. You bucked your hips and whined.

“Oh I’m sorry. Did you want something?” You glared at him and his smirk returned.

“You know, if you don’t know how to please a woman you can just say that. You don’t have to drag it out and stall.” His smirk immediately turned into a scowl and he raised his hand to hit you again but froze when he heard an unfamiliar phone go off. He got off you and you started to sit up but he grabbed his gun, pointing it at you.

“Stay.”

You rolled your eyes at the command. He grabbed your purse from the dresser and walked back over to the bed, gun still aimed at you.

“That’s my boss probably wondering where I am.” You said when the ringing stopped.

“I thought you said he’s flexible.”

“I lied.”

The ringing started again and he pulled the phone out of your purse. He looked at the unknown number then to you.

“You’re going to answer and you’re going to lie. Otherwise it’s a bullet in your head. Understand?” You nodded and he answered the phone, putting it on speaker.

“What’s taking so long?” He snapped.

“I’m just wrapping up. I’ll be in tomorrow instead of tonight… This guy was a lot more trained than you said.”

“You better not have slept with him again-“

“That literally happened one time and I still finished the assignment. How many more times are you going to bring it up?” You asked, very annoyed and wanting to get back to Mitch. Speaking of him, you looked up at him and saw his eyebrows were raised. You just rolled your eyes and flipped him off.

“Don’t be late.” The call abruptly ended and you found yourself wondering why you had covered for him. You’re not afraid to die… but it was almost instinctual to lie to your boss and that scared you. Because if Mitch had the power to make you do that… what else could he make you do?

You cleared your throat and looked up at him. He tossed your phone on the floor then continued digging through your purse. He pulled out your revolver and smirked.

“Cute.”

“Yeah I bet you’ll think it’s really cute when one of those bullets goes through dick-“

“Watch your fucking mouth. That’s your final warning.”

“Or what?” You challenged him. He set your gun on the bed behind him and kneeled over your hips again.

“Open.” You kept your mouth shut as tight as possible and he sighed. Mitch grabbed your cheeks and forced your jaw down then slid his gun into your mouth. You gagged at the taste and tried to get away from it but he was practically holding your head down. When you gagged again, this time it was because he shoved it further into your mouth. You felt tears well up in your eyes, then fall down your temples.

“Poor baby, crying over a few inches. How do you think you’re going to take my cock if you can’t even take this, hm?” You attempted to whine around the gun but it just sounded like a garbled moan. Mitch fucked his gun in and out of your mouth slowly and you continued to squirm under him.

“Careful, baby. One wrong move and I could accidentally pull the trigger. We don’t want that now do we?” You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut, your body going stiff.

“There you go.” He purred. You continued gagging and crying, just wanting to be done with this part already.

“Take it.” He uttered softly. After a few more long seconds he removed it, a trail of saliva connecting the barrel and your lips. You coughed and tried to catch your breath, then looked up at him through your lashes, your lips were slightly parted as you panted.

He reached up and placed a hand on your cheek. You tried not to read into it when you leaned your head against his palm. His thumb wiped the remainder of your tears, then moved down to trace your lips. He just barely put his thumb in your mouth when you closed your lips around it and sucked lightly. You swirled your tongue around his finger, then opened your lips slightly. He removed his thumb, dragging your bottom lip down on the way out.

Your thighs were squeezed together and you bucked your hips before you could stop yourself. He chuckled and removed his hand from your face, groping your breasts instead. You gasped when he pinched your nipples and then winced when he tugged even harder.

“Ow.” You mumbled. He ignored you and did it again. “You know, you don’t have to be so rough with it. It feels perfectly fine when you do it lighter.”

“Oh I know. But here’s the thing,” He leaned down in front of your face, “I’m not trying to make you feel good, and I especially don’t care if it feels good or not.” He glanced at your lips, then leaned back up.

“I’m going to keep hurting you. And if your slutty little head can’t tell the difference, that’s not my fault.” He shrugged and you pouted.

“There’s not even a small part of you that wants to make me feel good?” You looked up at him through your lashes. His hands grabbed your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles on your stomach.

“You know, usually when someone tries to kill me… that’s not a very good incentive for me to pleasure them.” You just rolled your eyes.

“But I understand why you’re confused, baby.” His tone was dripping with condescension. “Because we both know you’re not leaving here alive and yet, I’d bet you’re all too willing and eager to please me.” You scoffed and he raised his eyebrows, as if to say am I wrong?

“Tough luck.” You snickered, feeling his grip tighten on your waist. “I’m a pillow princess. So I’m perfectly content right here.” You smirked and tilted your head slightly from its place on the pillows, as if to give him a physical example of just how content you are. He gripped your neck in one hand, the other holding himself up on the bed next to your shoulder while he leaned over you.

“That may be true, but even as a pillow princess I can tell you’d do just about anything for some praise.” You felt your cheeks heat up at that. There’s no way you’re this easy to read…?

“Please.” You scoffed. “I wasn’t loved enough by my daddy and now I’ll do anything a man asks in bed? Is that it?” You said sarcastically.

“No I don’t think it’s that.” Mitch tilted his head, studying you. “I think, being a female assassin, you rarely get the recognition and praise that you deserve. So you crave it in other forms.” You swallowed, your neck moving under his palm.

“What is this, a fucking therapy session?” You spat, growing uncomfortable under his gaze.

“No.” He smirked. “I’m just having some fun by getting under your skin.”

“Or are you just stalling cause you’ve never been with a woman before?” You flashed an innocent smile as his hand tightened on your neck. “Or is it that you can’t get it up? There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Mitch. Impotence isn’t uncommon.” You feigned seriousness, almost laughing at his expression.

Eventually though, he just chuckled darkly and your stomach dropped a little. He grabbed your ripped underwear and shoved it in your mouth. You looked at him with wide eyes, but before you could do anything, his hand was leaving your neck and sliding down your stomach. He reached your leg and traced over your hip bone, not going down any farther. You tried to spread your legs under him but you barely moved.

Mitch leaned up then settled between your legs on his knees. He grabbed your hips roughly and dragged his nails down your thighs, touching you just about everywhere except where you actually wanted him to.

You whined, squirming and opening your legs wider. Finally, his fingers ghosted over your clit, making you instantly buck your hips into his hand. To retaliate, he slapped your clit, hard, and shot you a warning look. You choked on a gasp at the sting but it faded quickly.

His fingers lightly dragged down your clit to your folds, then back up to start again. You were just about to rip the underwear from your mouth and tell him to hurry up when a finger entered you. You let out a muffled moan and closed your eyes, tilting your head back. He curled his finger inside you over and over again until you were bucking your hips against his hand. He inserted another finger and you let out another relieved moan.

This continued for a few minutes until you felt yourself nearing the edge. His palm pressed down against your clit, adding even more stimulation. Your hips were rocking against his hand and your eyes closed as you were about to come. He pulled his hand away suddenly, making you whine loudly.

“Ready for some torture?” Mitch smirked and you pouted around the makeshift gag. His fingers entered you, picking up where they left off. You fisted the sheets in both hands and arched your back slightly as you got close again. He stopped and you cried out as you came down from the edge for a second time.

“You gonna answer me now?” He looked at you with a dark glint in his eyes. He wasn’t really asking since he didn’t remove the gag to let you speak. “That’s fine. I have all night.” He curled his fingers inside of you and picked up the speed, making you release a muffled moan. He edged you a few more times- after the fourth time you started losing count- and you were so desperate that you were on the verge of tears.

You tried talking around the underwear in your mouth but it just came out as incoherent, muffled sounds. He removed it and you didn’t waste a second before begging.

“Please- I want…” You cut off with a sharp inhale when a third finger entered you, “I want to come. Please make me come.” He was silent for a moment and then he removed his fingers, sucking your arousal off of them quickly.

“How about this?” He picked up your gun and took out the bullets, leaving one in, and then spun the cylinder. “I’m going to shoot this four times,” he leaned over on his elbow, aiming the gun at your temple, “and if you’re still alive by the end of it, then you can come.” You choked on a gasp and his fingers brushed your entrance again.

“If you’re not alive by the end of it…” He leaned down so his nose almost brushed yours, “Well, I’m still going to fuck you.” He whispered with a dark look in his eyes that made you shiver. He inserted his fingers again and you whimpered at the intrusion.

“Ready?” He smirked, cocking the gun. You shook your head and furrowed your brows.

“N-no, I don’t-“ You flinched when he pulled the trigger, the click deafening right next to your ear because of the sudden fear you got hit with. You shuddered and squeezed your eyes shut.

“One.” He rasped. You whimpered and shook your head more.

“M-Mitch, I-I don’t wanna…” You gasped out.

“Why not, baby?” He worked his fingers inside you faster now. “I thought you wanted to come?” And the thing is… you do. You want to come so fucking badly. The gun aimed at your head is only adding to the growing knot of arousal in your stomach. But you watched him load the gun. And you have every reason to believe that he truly doesn’t care whether he fucks you before or after he kills you. While the thought makes you clench around his fingers, you’d rather be alive for that.

“Just three more, princess. I know you can take it. You wanna come right?” The saccharinity in his voice was quickly taking down all of your defenses. You nodded hesitantly, still shaking out of fear and arousal. He pulled the trigger again, the sound making you release a choked sob.

“Two more.” You felt tears welling in your eyes quickly. You’ve dabbled with fear play as a kink in the past, but it was never anything like this. He inserted a fourth finger and you whimpered at the stretch, but didn’t tell him to stop.

“You deserve this, princess.” His fingers contrasted the gentleness in his tone. “Maybe I should just fire all six rounds.” You moaned through a cry, feeling too overwhelmed emotionally and physically. “Cause we both know your holes are all you’re good for. At least when you’re dead you won’t be able to talk.” He fired the third shot and you felt the tears start to fall.

“Poor thing. Are you scared?” He cooed softly and you nodded with a whimper. “Little girls like you shouldn’t be carrying weapons around. It makes it too easy for just anyone to turn the tables and have you at the other end.” The way he reprimanded you was infantilizing. And you hated the fact that you don’t hate it…

“I-I’m sorry.” You whimpered, not sure what else to say.

“You’re so fucking pathetic. Look at you, humping my hand.” You didn’t even realize you were doing that. “Even with a gun to your head you’re still only thinking with your cunt. That’s why you’re a shitty assassin.” He whispered the last part bitterly.

“Dumb little whores like you aren’t cut out for this, you know why? Because you’d rather fuck your target than finish the assignment.” He ground the palm of his hand down hard on your clit, making you moan. “Say it, princess. Say ‘I’m a dumb whore who only thinks with my cunt.’” You whined loudly in protest, but he pressed the gun hard into your temple, reminding you of your position right now.

“I-“ You cut off with a choked sob, “I’m a…” You squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“Open your eyes, baby. Open your eyes and look at me.” You complied. “There you go. Now keep looking at me and say it. Don’t make me tell you again or one more shot will turn into two.”

“I’m a- a dumb whore who only thinks with my- with my cunt.” You whispered and Mitch looked satisfied.

“You ready to come?” You whimpered and nodded eagerly, thinking he’d let you come before firing the last shot. “Then just one more, baby.” Your stomach dropped and you felt the fear come back, full force. The coil in your stomach was about as tight as it could get and you tried to come before he could have a chance to fire another round, but your body would not obey you.

“Ready?” You choked on a sob and shook your head. “Oh come on, don’t be such a little bitch about it. Do you want to come or not?”

“Yes!” You cried.

“Then beg.” He said and you paused.

“W-what?”

“Beg me to shoot you so you can finally come, humping my hand like a fucking bitch in heat.” He growled, his fingers somehow going faster. You stared at him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

“Go on, baby.”

“Please…” You mumbled.

“Remember what I said would happen if I had to tell you again?” You swallowed, giving him a small nod.

“Please s-shoot me…” You whimpered, eyeing the gun. He raised his eyebrows so you continued, “so you can finally make me come.”

“Good girl.” He smirked, grinding his palm harder against your clit, bringing you impossibly closer to the edge. He fired the gun and you froze, then let out a heavy breath.

“Can- can I come now please?” You all but sobbed in relief.

“Go ahead, princess. Keep humping my hand just like that… good girl. Grind on it, baby. Make yourself cum.” He set the gun on the bed then wrapped his hand around your throat, pressing on the sides hard enough to make you light headed. You gripped his bicep and squeezed your eyes shut. Finally the knot inside you snapped and your back arched as your head tilted back, pushing your throat into his hand. Your other hand reached up to grab the wrist of the hand on your neck. You didn’t try to pull him away, you just needed something to ground yourself.

As you came down from your orgasm, your body sagged into the bed. Your eyes were closed as you panted, trying to catch your breath. He pulled his fingers from you then took his ring and pinky fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean and groaning at the taste. He placed his pointer and middle fingers in your already open mouth and you moaned, leaning forward to take them deeper.

“Who do you work for?” He asked softly, removing his fingers and using his other hand to cup your cheek. The tenderness of his touch and his voice distracted you from the weight of the question.

“Piece of shit.” You mumbled sleepily, leaning into his hand. “Hate him.” You sighed and closed your eyes that were growing heavier the longer you tried to keep them open.

“Why does he want me dead?” He brushed his thumb against your cheek, his other hand moving some hair behind your ear.

“You’re being so sweet. Dunno why anyone would want that.” You pouted, opening your eyes to look at him. He gave you a soft smile, but his eyes showed his confusion. “I didn’t wanna kill you. Dunno why… just had a feeling I guess.” You returned his smile then closed your eyes again.

“I’m not done with you yet, princess. Don’t go falling asleep on me now.” He chuckled, his breath fanning against your lips. “Remember what I said? I’m fucking you whether you’re alive or not.”

“Alive doesn’t mean conscious.” You smiled mischievously, not opening your eyes.

“Alright then. If you don’t want to be conscious when I fuck your face and then your cunt, then by all means. Go ahead and sleep. Makes no difference to me.” You could practically hear his smirk, and yet… you still took the bait. You opened your eyes and glared at him.

“Fine. I guess I’ll be conscious.” You huffed dramatically, rolling your eyes. You did your best to suppress a giggle.

“I’m honored.” His faux seriousness is what made you break out into a fit of laughter. He didn’t really laugh with you, but he smiled so you counted that as a win.

“Alright get it over with.” You settled into your spot on the bed and opened your mouth with a glint in your eyes.

“You’re such a pillow princess.” He muttered, shaking his head with an amused smile.

“Hey! Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing. I’m proud to be a pillow princess.” You grinned and he just scoffed.

“Yeah, okay.” He laid down on the spot next to you, one hand resting on his stomach and the other behind his head. “Sorry, princess but you’re gonna have to do some of the work. I’ve been on top the whole time.”

“So what I’m hearing is… you want to bottom? I mean I’m down for that but I don’t think we have the right materials, unless you’re hiding a strap somewhere.” You smirked, sitting up.

“Cute. Remember what happened last time you didn’t watch your mouth?” You flushed at the memory.

“How are you gonna fuck my face if you gag me with my underwear again?”

“I’m really starting to reconsider accepting your decision to stay conscious.” You gaped at him.

“You wound me, Mitch.” You put a hand over your heart dramatically.

“I’m going to wound you if you don’t hurry up.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You know, you telling me to hurry up makes me want to do the opposite.” You crossed your arms and he huffed.

“You’re a brat too. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Yeah actually. It usually goes hand in hand with the whole pillow princess thing.” You condescended him and he raised his eyebrows.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes then looked up at you through his lashes. “Please suck my cock, baby. You wanna make me feel good right? Wanna prove that you really are a good girl? Cause I’m aching for you, princess. I know you can make me feel so fucking good.” He all but whined and you faltered. That was not what you were expecting at all. You figured you’d get another sarcastic reply, not- not that. You settled between his legs on your knees.

“I want to state for the record that I am doing this because I want to, not because you told me to.” You started unbuttoning his pants and you glanced up when he didn’t reply. He had a satisfied smirk on his stupid, pretty face. You just glared at him and kept working on taking his pants off. When you removed his black briefs you were mesmerized as his cock slapped against his stomach, big and red and did you mention he was big??

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“I would but you threw my phone somewhere so…” You reached out to touch him but he grabbed your wrist.

“Take them off all the way.” You huffed but did what he said then reached for him again, he didn’t stop you this time. It looked even bigger in your hand and you could see the vein on the bottom and the precum surfacing at the tip. You leaned down and licked the clear bead, moaning at the taste and then laying down on your stomach between his legs.

You looked up at him and god what a sight. The veins in his arm behind his head are bulging and you could see the veins in the hand resting on his stomach. His pupils were blown wide and he had a light blush on his face.

“C’mon, princess. We don’t have all night.” You ignored him and continued trailing your gaze over his body. You wanted to kiss all of the moles littering his face. Your hand reached up and you brushed your fingers down his happy trail until you reached the base of his cock. You grasped it and looked up at him before starting to move your hand.

His eyes fluttering was the only indication that he even felt anything, so you decided to do more. You put the tip in your mouth and lightly sucked and then swirled your tongue around it, your hand still pumping him. He muttered a ‘fuck’ and you wanted more.

You took him deeper into your mouth, until your lips met your hand, then went back up, still keeping your mouth on him. You looked up at him and when you met his eyes he groaned. He tangled a hand in your hair but didn’t push you yet.

“That’s it. Fuck- good girl. No hands, baby. Just your mouth.” You removed your hand and continued bobbing your head up and down his length. He started taking control, moving you further down each time. When you gagged and tried to pull back is when he lost all control.

His other hand joined your hair and he didn’t even move your head. He just held you still and bucked up into your mouth at a punishing pace. Each time he thrusted in, you were nearly all the way down, but not fully. His thrusting came to an abrupt stop when he buried his cock as far as your throat would allow.

“Fuck- Relax your throat, princess. C’mon, take me all the way in.” You did your best to relax and he pushed inside until you gagged around him and tried moving off him. His grip didn’t loosen and you clawed at his thighs, feeling your airways start to burn from lack of oxygen. When he finally let you pull back, you took a huge breath in and coughed. Mitch was stroking your hair and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

“Ready for more?” You glanced at his cock again and nodded, licking your lips. He eased your mouth back over him and started with slow thrusts. He moved your head up and down his length, the slow place allowing you to concentrate on breathing and not gagging.

“You’re just the perfect little fuck toy for my cock, aren’t you?” You moaned around him and he started to speed up. “Just a fleshlight for me to use however I want. Fuck- you were made for this.” He grunted. His hips started to meet your mouth every time he pushed you down.

“Fuck- take it, princess.” He groaned when you choked around him. He held you down until your lips were at the base of his cock, paying no mind to your struggling. Your hands gripped his thighs again, nails digging into the skin. Even though he was holding you flush against his hips, he was still thrusting into your mouth slightly.

Finally he released you, a trail of spit connecting your lips and his cock. One of his hands fell to his side, the other brushing the tears of your face.

“Come here.” He muttered, pulling your body up his. He kissed you slowly, nails dragging down your back, making you groan. He rolled both of you over until he was on top of you, never breaking the kiss.

“I’m gonna fuck you now.” He rasped. You nodded your head, eager for him to start. “Condom?” He took his cock in his hand, rubbing the tip against your opening and your clit.

“Don’t have one. I’m on the pill though.” You breathed, bucking your hips into him. He connected his lips to yours again, this time faster and more eager. He pressed the tip against your opening, pushing in the tiniest amount. When he finally breached your walls you gasped. Obviously you knew he was big… but it’s a whole other story when he’s actually inside you.

He slowly slid his length into you, your legs being pushed up to his hips the closer he got. When his hips were flush against yours, your chest started heaving as you tried to relax around him.

“Fuck,” You whimpered, grabbing his bicep in one hand and the sheets in the other, “oh my god. You’re so fucking big.” You gasped out. He furrowed his brows and opened his mouth in a silent moan. Mitch grabbed your thigh and pushed it up higher, the new angle making you whimper.

“Oh fuck- your little cunt is so tight around me.” He groaned, finally starting to pull back slowly. He dragged his length out of you until only the tip was inside, then snapped his hips forward quickly. The force pushed you up the bed slightly but he continued that rhythm.

“Fuck- please go faster.” You whined, dragging your nails down his back and making him groan. His thrusts sped up slightly, the sound of his hips hitting yours was resonating through the room, along with your moans. His mouth attached to your neck as he bit and sucked the skin everywhere he could reach. You put a hand in his hair and pulled on it hard. To retaliate, his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing the sides and making your head feel lighter.

Mitch kissed you again briefly, then pulled out. You whimpered at the empty feeling but he quickly grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your stomach. He pulled you onto your knees then pressed down on your upper back, making you arch even further. His cock entered you again and you let out a loud moan at the sudden thrust. His pace picked up quickly and you fisted the sheets near your head and squeezed your eyes shut. His hand left your back to grab your hips, using the leverage to thrust harder and faster.

He landed a sharp slap on your ass and you cried out from the sudden sting. He leaned over you and brushed the hair on your face behind your ear. His thrusts never ceased as his lips brushed your ear.

“You take my cock so fucking well, baby.” He said through a moan. Your breath hitched and you felt his words add to the growing warmth in your belly. “It’s like you were made for me. Made to be my little cock sleeve.” Mitch grabbed your hair and pulled your head back, making you gasp. His other hand wrapped around your throat, pushing your head back slightly. The harshness of his thrusts coupled with the sting on your scalp and the floaty feeling from his hand on your neck was driving you closer to the edge.

No matter how much you hated your boss or your job… you couldn’t help but feel glad that you didn’t quit yet. Because this was probably the best fuck of your life. Sure, most of the other men you’ve been with couldn’t please a woman to save their life- literally and metaphorically- but there’s just something different about him. About the way that he’s rough and soft at the same time. Not just in his actions but in his words too. It’s almost like he had a fucking manual for all of your kinks and turn ons.

“Where do you want me to come?” He whispered, lips grazing your ear. And fuck- you clenched around him, making him moan lowly.

“Inside.” You whispered breathily. His grip on your neck tightened and he cursed under his breath.

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up?” He put all his weight on the arm holding your throat, then released your hair and moved his hand down to start rubbing your clit.

“Please.” You whined, clenching down on him again.

“Such a fucking slut- wanting a stranger to come inside you.” You whimpered at that because… even though it doesn’t feel like it, he still is a stranger. “What if I knock you up, huh? I guess it won’t matter either way since, like I said, you’re not leaving here alive.” His thrusts got harder and faster and he was panting next to your head.

“Please, I-“ You cut off with a choked sob, getting closer to your release with every thrust. “I wanna live. Wanna be your cock sleeve.” Despite you being 90% sure this was all roleplay, there was still some truth to your words.

“Begging for your life and all you have to offer are your holes?” Your breath hitched and his words just added to the growing knot in your stomach. “I might consider that. But it depends… are you offering all your holes?”

“Yes!” You said through a moan. “Yes- all of them.” He chuckled darkly. “Please, I- I need to come.” You cried, feeling yourself nearing the edge.

“Go ahead, baby. Come and I’ll fill you up, okay?” He rasped, his hand rubbing your clit faster. Your body obeyed his command and you cried out when your orgasm hit. You heard him curse under his breath and felt as he fucked into you faster. You buried your face in the bed, muffling your loud moans. His hips stilled and you felt hot come paint your walls. You let out a loud whine as his hips just barely bucked against you, trying to bury himself deeper.

After both of you stilling and just panting for a few seconds, you lifted your face from the bed so you could breathe better and he moved off of you so he was kneeling. Mitch slowly dragged his cock out and you clenched at the emptiness. You felt his come drip out of you, down your clit, and he groaned loudly. He rubbed the head of his cock on you, spreading his come around, and you hissed at how sensitive you were. He moved to lay beside you and you dropped down from your knees on your stomach.

“You don’t seem like the type to cuddle after sex.” You chuckled and the corners of his lips turned up.

“You’d be surprised. But we aren’t exactly cuddling right now.”

“Well what’s stopping you?” You smirked and he rolled his eyes before pulling you to lay partially on top of him.

“Better?” He raised his brows and you laughed quietly.

“Much.” You said, laying your head on his chest. His fingertips lightly dragged up and down your arm and you traced the moles and freckles on his chest. What now? You thought. He’s not actually going to kill you… is he? “Are you actually gonna kill me?” You mumbled against his chest.

“I don’t know…” He sighed. “No. But I can’t just let you go.” He was silent for a moment before continuing. “I think I should bring you to my superiors and let them decide what to do with you.”

“Your superiors? That doesn’t sound ominous at all.” You laughed, feeling his chest vibrate as he chuckled quietly. “What are they like mob bosses or something?” You said teasingly.

“More like a former navy seal and director of the CIA.”

“The C-“ You lifted yourself off his chest to look at him. “CIA? You work for the CIA??” Your voice rose in shock and he raised his brows, amused by your reaction.

“Oh my god- I almost killed someone from the CIA. That would’ve been so bad.” You put a hand over your mouth and stared at him with wide eyes. “You didn’t even get close to killing me.” He chuckled.

“Only because I didn’t want to. I totally could’ve killed you.” He just smirked at you but you were too hung up on the fact that your boss basically sent you on a suicide mission. If not suicide, then life in jail.

“That bastard! He sent me to kill an agent of the US government and didn’t even fucking tell me.” You seethed before calmly stating, “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Don’t kill him.” He chuckled. “Actually it depends. Who is he?” You told him the name and his eyebrows raised before he let out a small laugh.

“What?” You asked, confused.

“That’s the guy we’ve been after right now. We’re actually really close too.”

“Oh... What’d he do?” You asked.

“He’s a terrorist.” He deadpanned and your whole expression dropped.

“Oh shit.” You breathed. “Okay well now I definitely want to kill him.” You shrugged. “After I get paid though.”

“But you didn’t kill me.”

“That’s what’s funny about it though. It’d be even more ironic if you were the one to kill him.” Suddenly, you realized that you, an assassin, are talking to an agent of the US government about killing someone. “Are you gonna arrest me?” You asked nervously and he let out a small chuckle.

“I don’t think I can even do that… but no.” You sighed in relief. “Plus, what good is a fuck toy if it’s in jail?” He smirked and you felt your cheeks heat up.

I’M SORRY IDK HOW TO END THIS 😭💀

#mitch rapp smut #mitch rapp x reader #american assassin #russian roulette #(but sexy)

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