#he's tight and his walls are scorching and every thrust feels absolutely heavenly.

[sukugo]

a feverish satoru, flushed and skin scorching, drained of all energy, body weighed down by weakness

a satoru who's completely dazed, eyes glossed over, at the edge of losing consciousness as sukuna slams into him relentlessly, reveling in just how good he feels. so tight and so delightfully hot

satoru's voice is small and he huffs out airy moans and he's soft and pliant under sukuna's hand, sukuna being able to maneuver him however he pleases, the other drained of even the tiniest bit of power to resist

and sukuna turns him over to have him on all fours, but he's strengthless, his limbs are shaky, he can't even hold himself up, and his hands and legs give out under him as he goes to collapse onto the bed, sukuna having to circle an arm around his waist and press fingers at his neck to hold him up, burning back flush against sukuna's chest, sukuna's thrusts shaking his entire body, which grows hotter and more subdued with each drag of sukuna's cock against his walls

[cognacdelights]

teenage fever

my outer banks masterlist

add yourself to my taglist

summary: with the aid of one too many alcoholic drinks, two life-long best friends confess their feelings for one another without using any words at all as the after party dwindles down around them. 

warnings: graphic sexual content. unprotected sex.

The air was thick with a nebula of nicotine and the sweet, yet musty, essence of marijuana as the laidback tempo of the R&B playlist echoed throughout the old, decrepit fishing shack. A legion of half-consumed beer bottles cluttered the kitchen countertops - standing tall beside the few crumpled, empty beer cans. Cigarette butts filled the several ash trays littered around the confined space, creating an unsightly mountain of burnt-out roll-ups that spilled over onto the stained, wooden surfaces. The small, anchor-themed clock which hung proudly on the wall beside the doorway read 4:13 - the incessant ticking drowned out by the calming bass of the R&B music. What had once been a raging, wild house party that had seen almost every troublesome teenager of The Cut had dwindled down into a relaxed, mellow affair, with only a few roisterous individuals remaining. 

Her crimson, platform heels lay discarded on the slate tiles just an arms-length away as her trim, scantily clad body entangled itself with his - her arms loosely coiled around the back of his neck. His jean-clad knee pressed between her sun-soaked thighs, her voluptuous hips moving in cadence with the slowed, sultry tempo of the music as they grinded sensually against his. Her movements were alluringly languid as he placed his bear-like palm against the small of her back, his touch searing her skin through the thin material of her sable, figure-hugging dress. Compelled further into his warm, enticing embrace by the electrifying pulses of energy surging through her petite, intoxicated silhouette, she eliminated the remaining gap between their two synchronised bodies. 

As she peered upwards through her dark, mascara-coated lashes, her hazy, inebriated eyes met with his. The taste of his spirit-laced breath consumed her as their faces hovered just a mere millimetres apart - both hesitant to invade no man’s land; both tentative in escalating their life-long friendship. It was the Don Julio which ultimately coerced the two longing, tipsy teens to take the plunge into the unknown; their soft lips molded together in a leisurely, timid manoeuvre, the ever-lasting agave flavour of the citrus liquor spurring them on in their ardent embrace. Her naturally long lashes grazed against the blush-tinted skin of his cheeks as her eyes fluttered closed - allowing herself to revel in the fervent passion radiating between them. 

Her scarlet-painted fingertips fiddled with the dishevelled ends of his tousled, sandy locks, his own paw-like palms settling on the entrancing, bodacious curves of her hips. Gently, he applied pressure - pushing her heated, panty-covered core against him as she continued to sensually sway to the music. The friction he had created between them was intensely euphoric, but not quite enough to satisfy the zealous yearning which had erupted in the depths of his stomach. Every inch of his being longed for more - more of every intoxicating sensation he could elicit; his hands hankered for the warmth of her exposed skin against his and his lips thirsted for the exhilarating concoction of flavours that she held.

Eventually, he tore his chapped, rose-tinted lips from hers, peppering several tender, affectionate kisses along her pronounced jawline as his lascivious tongue dared to explore more. His lustful lips found shelter in the crook of her neck - placing delicate, loving kisses in the crevices. Relishing in the sweet, floral aroma of her perfume, he began to gently suck on the golden tones of her complexion. She cocked her head to the side ever so slightly, allowing him full, unrestricted access as his pointed teeth grazed lightly over the wet patch of skin. He placed a handful of fragile, rapture-filled kisses over the sensitive area, satisfied by the possessive imprint he had left, before retreating back to the comfort of her lipstick-coated lips; it was almost as if his lips were in a state of withdrawal.

His thin, sinful lips landed upon hers once again, but this time it was different. His tongue valiantly forced its way into her unsuspecting mouth in an act of absolute dominance, yet the motion was devoid of all aggression - more abundant in a deep-rooted craving for intimacy. She contentedly welcomed his exploring tongue with her own, tauntingly caressing it as their lips continued to interlock together in a melodious synchronisation. The heat of his clammy, calloused palm sent an invigorating rush of adrenaline through her dainty, drunken frame as it came to rest against her upper thigh. With his audacious fingers breaching the thin, cotton boundaries of her bodycon dress, he squeezed the delicate skin.

A symphony of hoots and whistles erupted from the distance of the open, arched doorway - as their beloved, closest friends observed their erotic display of affection. The girlish, innocent giggles of Sarah Cameron and Kiara Carrera sounded above the slow, sensuous pounding of the bassline, as their four friends proceeded to throw what she could only assume were condoms at the entranced pair. As the cold, foil wrappers hit against her arched back, she nonchalantly retrieved an arm from behind his neck, gesturing her disapproval of their actions with a stern, rigid flash of her middle finger; they were far too embroiled in one another’s wistful, lovelorn tenderness to acknowledge their friends’ teasing behaviour.

Half in attempt to shield her petite, hour-glass silhouette from the barrage of condoms and half out of pure, carnal desire to escalate their amorous, salacious encounter, the shaggy-haired blonde maneuvered their entangled bodies around - his evident erection pressing comfortably against the sensitive, sun-drenched skin of her thigh. As her scorching, bare skin fell against the cool wood of the kitchen cabinets, a soft gasp surpassed her swollen, plump lips. Delicately, his dauntless hands hooked themselves beneath the shapely curves of her ass, pushing her hypnotic hips upwards onto the beer-stained countertop - prompting the hasty departure of their on-looking friends.

His wandering fingertips slinked towards the boundaries of her soaking heat, encroaching on the black, patterned lace of her thong. Parting their magnetised lips to suck in an unsteady breath of air, she felt his experienced thumb slip beneath the damp material and trace pleasureful figures of eight against her clit. Heat radiated from her sodden core as she instinctively threw her head back at the electrifying sensation. His lips once again found the sensitive skin of her neck, sprinkling adoration-filled kisses along the glistening highlight of her collarbone.

With a breathy moan escaping her velvet lips, she pushed her eager hips forward. A haughty, satisfied smirk etched itself into the foundations of his chiselled features at her pleading movements, attentively sliding his two poised fingers across the length of her folds - lathering them on her sweet nectar before slowly thrusting them into her core. Her desperate, ruby-painted fingertips reached for the buckle of his belt, fumbling slightly as they eased the worn leather free of the metal clasp. Effortlessly popping the button of his light-wash, denim jeans, she tugged down the sticking zipper.

Her gentle, delicate hands were warm against the sensitive skin of his hardened length as they found their way beneath the waistband of his boxers. An aroused, throaty groan bypassed his tequila-stained lips as his stubby, ring-clad fingers caressed the acute nerves of her core - the exhilarating friction of her soft, sultry palm working along his shaft smothering him. Short, staggered breaths and elated whines consumed the small, homely kitchen as they continued to tender to the other’s desirous yearns. Endearment clouded his ravenous, cerulean eyes as they bore directly and intently into hers - a content, adoring smile tugging at the corners of his thin, alcohol-soaked lips as he indulged in the affinity of their exchange.

Retreating from the shelter of her drenched heat, he brought his juice-soaked fingers to his lips - his mischievous tongue lapping up every stray droplet of her honey-like essence. A subconscious whimper vibrated from the depths of her throat, her hypersensitive nerves neglected by the sudden loss of contact, craving his expert touch once more. His covetous thumbs arched beneath the meagre string of her lace-detailed thong, guiding the damp material down her smooth, tanned thighs. As the damp, patterned fabric reached her dainty ankles, the bewitched blonde crumpled her panties in his calloused palm - carelessly stuffing them into the back pocket of his skinny-fit jeans.

Pushing the tight waistband of his boxers down, he released his stiff, poised dick and positioned himself at her sodden entrance. Slowly, sensually, he pushed himself into her heat. Her lipstick-coated lips entrapped his once again as they echoed an unholy harmony of moans and groans between them, his pleasureful movements remaining languid and gentle. Devilishly, the salacious girl captured his swollen, chapped bottom lip between her teeth, tugging gently at the sensitive skin, cautious not to draw blood. A primal grumble crawled out from the deep, dark depths of his throat as he reconnected their tequila-laced lips for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night.

As the seductive, soulful music faded from one song to the next, he skilfully adjusted the pace of his lascivious movements to the laid-back tempo of the familiar chorus. Her ardent hips followed suit - rocking in a heavenly, sultry cadence with his. The off-white cotton of his t-shirt wrinkled under her tight, careless grip, her pointed, vermillion-painted nails digging themselves into his clothed shoulders. Arching her back and smoothly thrusting her voluptuous hips forward in harmony with his, his pulsing length filled her aching core to capacity - eliciting an ungodly, sensuous whine from her luscious, spirit-laced lips.

His slow, seductive movements had taken her by surprise. The naturally radiant, sun-kissed girl had always expected the muscular, sandy-haired boy to be a rampant, raunchy lover; from the kink-fuelled, salacious scandals with worse-for-wear tourists that he often reminisced on, to the smutty, unchaste fantasies - in which he took the starring role - that frequently plagued her wicked brain, she had come to the affirmation that her troublesome, unruly life-long best friend was an untameable animal in the bedroom. However, the sumptuous, indulgent moment she had found herself living in was quite the contrast to her initial opinions of the stiff-jawed blonde. This was an intimate, passionate, emotional affair - and he meant every second of it; he meant every sensual touch, every lascivious kiss, every amorous thrust.

Their leisurely, romantic pace that heeded to the rhythm of the mellow R&B playlist meant that their attentive, enamoured embrace had continued for a prolonged period of time - much to the dismay of their friends. As the steamy, classic naughties ballad dissipated into the early hours of the mid-summer morn, a slightly more up-tempo, modern beat resounded through the old fish shack. Once again, he adjusted his affectionate thrusts, speeding up ever so slightly. Easing into his new found pace, the athletically-built boy with the tousled, shaggy, blonde hair felt his climax nearing. His calloused fingertips gripped on to the curvatures of her concave waistline out of instinct - forcing back the tidal wave of ecstasy he was so desperate to let overwhelm him, refusing to concede before her.

It was merely several, indulgent thrusts later that the sensitive walls of her sodden core clenched around his painfully hard length, the tell-tale, familiar knot of her high tightening in the pit of her stomach. As she forcefully rolled her bodacious hips against his, she began to unravel around his bulging span. Her manicured, ballerina-shaped fingertips gripped firmly onto the varnished pine of the countertop, her spine arching almost unnaturally as her head threw itself backwards in a subconscious reaction to the immense pleasure which surged through her alcohol-laced veins. A harmonious medley of curse words, enraptured whimpers and sensuous moans surpassed her heavenly, sumptuous lips.

As the petite, hazy-eyed girl continued to ride out her euphoric apex, the searing skin of her bare hips meeting with his own forced him to cave in. His valiant efforts to suppress his intense, building orgasm had been thwarted by the unholy slurs which rolled so effortlessly off her salacious tongue - feeling himself erupt inside her sensual heat. Shortening his cadenced, rhythmic thrusts, he dared not pull his aching length completely out. Her acute, hypersensitive nerves could feel his pleasureful load filling her core - the heightened pace of his hips dwindling into nothing as he finished.

Eventually, he pulled his juice-drenched length from the comforting warmth of her heat, tucking himself back into the fabric constraints of his boxers. An adoring, content smile contorted her doll-like features as her clouded doe eyes peered upwards through her thick, mascara-coated lashes into his admiring, indigo orbs. She could feel the blended concoction of their endearing embrace seeping from her throbbing, saturated folds - onto the bare, exposed skin of her thighs - but she didn’t care. She simply placed her swollen, plump lips on his once more, enrapturing the breathless, teal-eyed boy in yet another tender, passionate kiss, her delicate palms resting themselves on the broads of his defined, burly shoulders.

[batarella]

The Bullet: A Sequel to the Commander - Part 3 (Jason Todd x Reader)

this might be the longest smut fic I’ve done. the entire first half is nothing but sex (and angst) but shit, wow. i’m definitely going to the tenth circle of hell

WORDS: 8199 WARNINGS: SEX. LOTS OF IT. mentions of miscarriage :( violence, firearms, death

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

-----

Visions.

Even as the fantastical reality played out, there was no sure stream of what really went on. They came in parts, blurred parts, when the arousal, the sensations, they were barely in the presence of acknowledging thought, when they were merely in it to feel without so much as thinking about what to do or what was about to happen. Instead of words, there was music. Instead of speaking, listening, there was only feeling. Like a wonderful dream one won't be able to truthfully recall, yet when asked about them, their faces soften into a light-hearted grin thinking about the remnants of just how magical it was so lightly brushing against their hot skin.

It has always been this way, after long, difficult times, having to go through the worst of brutalities only to end in such an ecstatic rapture. And with it comes singing, light, mellow singing from angels and perhaps even beautiful demons.

Limbs entangled, palms rubbing against hot, flushed skin, kisses where kisses felt the best, breaths burning and boiling, and the water, flowing like raindrops so scorching onto their heads, faces, necks, flowing further down to their bodies, it was, without a doubt, so painfully slow, yet they lingered around that pain, made it tingle down their spines and flesh and every bone in their bodies felt so weak and at the verge of shattering.

And it was like no time had passed since the last.

It didn’t start out so erotic. It started with nothing more than sensual, beautiful love. With the water droplets dripping onto the damp floor the only sound there was, it started with a light kiss on her shoulder. And it took a while, just his lips, tasting her skin. Y/N took the aromatic soap from the little glass shelf and lathered her hands with its foam. Then Jason watched on, mouth parted, as she started to soak her neck, chest, and arms with it. So slowly, taking her sweet time to feel her skin. She washed down her stomach, and gravity started pulling the foam down to her sweetest parts.

Y/N finally around.

Jason’s eyes, hooded and dark yet contrasted to the icy blue of his irises, Y/N drew her finger down the sides of his drenched face, going along with the droplets that fell to his cheek, his lips. His hair stuck to his forehead. There was nothing else so beautiful and mesmerizing as staring so deeply into his eyes, getting lost along with all other features of his face. The scars, the ones she had as well, she traced her finger along the lines.

Then with her lathered up palms, Y/N started to wash him.

She’s never felt love like this, taking care of him, washing him, running her hands up to soak him, it felt just as tingling to her skin as the best orgasm. Over his shoulders, his neck, his hard muscled pecs and down his abs, his breath hitched when both her hands went ever so slowly up her sides. Then she washed his shoulders, the new scars and old ones.

And she could just see how much he loved her when she finished up soaping his entire body with her hand pumping the soap around his twitching cock. Jason closed his eyes. It was only a few times, but already he couldn’t get enough of it. It was clear when she withdrew her hand and he whimpered in response.

Then in was back to the soft mellowness when Y/N took the shampoo in her hands, reaching up on her toes to wash his hair.

Jason’s eyes were shut closed but just from the look on his face, how his muscles softened and how he went from being such an intimidating figure to a lone little puppy in need of the kind of love and affection he wasn’t always so used to. It was an action so often overlooked. Washing someone’s hair. But when it came to her, to him, being taken care of and actually feeling such care and love in such a deep level…

She felt it after she finished and Jason took the shampoo for himself and started rubbing down her scalp, her hair, letting the warmth seep through his palms. It was beyond the pleasures of fucking. This was making love, and it didn’t have to be something so sexual. She circled her arms around his waist. How he tended to her like he was patching up her scars, letting the foam trail down her neck while his fingers dug into the drenched up strands, massaging her head so sensually, she needed this. This was all she ever needed. He was all she ever needed.

His hands didn’t leave Y/N’s head. After he had done with the soap, he leaned in and kissed her on the lips, feeling the hot water and the steam burn even more. Her arms went around his neck, and she let her soaked up chest press so nicely up against Jason’s. He started holding around her waist, and for so long, that was the state they were in, arms around each other, lips so leisurely moving around. The shower started to fog up, but even then, they could see each other as clearly bright as day.

She loved him so much.

Jason turned her around.

Her head falling to his shoulder, Jason had his lips tickling the softest skin on her neck, and when his tongue started swirling around her skin she felt like orgasming right then and there. His large, wonderful hands, tracing down her front, the space between her breasts, her nipples, her thighs. He started kneading both breasts, so passionately enjoying them and making sure they made her feel the tingling jolts down to her core. Then the other hand started to rub further down. Y/N managed to turn her head to the side, catch his cheek with her lips, and stayed there when his fingers reached down to her soaking wetness.

He didn’t touch her clit. Not yet. Jason took the time to touch every part of her, going around the folds, ever so lightly inserting the tip of his finger into her hole. The base of his thumb brushed against her clit on accident and she jumped up on her toes. He hushed her to calm, right up against her ear, then he started breathing against it so the sensations would amplify. When the tip of his finger started pressing themselves together, rubbing in slow, lazy circles around her clitoris, she cried.

Y/N’s hand went around behind her to stroke his cock, and he choked against her ear. He was so awfully hard, she could feel his tip throb for attention. She wanted it. Bad.

Then Jason gently laid her back against the glass wall of the shower, kissing her lips before he knelt down.

Her heart started beating faster. Harder.

When he hooked her one leg over his shoulder, crouched down so his lips were facing directly against her pussy, he teased her with his teeth digging into her innermost thighs. Hand on his hair, pulling him to go on, Jason dug in and started with a big, fat lick up with his firm tongue, up from her hole to the hood of her clit. She couldn’t hear her moans. She could hear the singing, the music. Her head pressed up against the wall with her eyes shut. He continued with the long licks until his hand went up, fingers returning to her cunt while his tongue focused on tracing the slowest circles up and around the sensitive bud.

“Oh…” Jason inserted two long fingers inside her, and she could feel every move he made, curling up at an angle he knew she liked best and lightly pressing, rubbing against that spot up to her pelvis. That, with his tongue going faster at each turn, she had to hold back from going absolutely ballistic. “Jason…”

At the sigh of his name, Jason thrusted his fingers even deeper inside her, pumping at an even pace. He sucked on her clit, eyes looking up to see how she was reacting. And she was reacting. The pressures of the spot sending the most pleasurable shocks down her limbs. She didn’t want to cum yet. Not when the night was still so young. But his tongue, his fingers…

A long, high pitched sigh of wordless cries shot out of her lips. She trembled against the wall, electrified, spineless, she could barely keep herself up if not for his arms keeping up her stance. Y/N placed her hand against the wall and let it print against the fogged up steam. Jason’s hand went up to hold her stomach. He watched her cum, come so undone from his fingers and mouth, she knew this was just the beginning. He wanted to watch every bit of her nerves shake from his cock when he fucks her so good and hard. The things he wanted, the things he yearned to do to her, now he was going to do it.

When he stood up, held her waist, pressed his forehead tightly against her own, he could see tears down her face, and he could tell them apart from the water droplets from the shower. She was crying, arms around his neck. She loved him. She loved him so much and she never should have left. Kissing him with her lips so hungrily searching for his love back, he gave it immediately.

He took her thighs, brought her legs to wrap around his waist. Jason was inside her before she could even cry out. Y/N continued to cry, eyes continued to close, the water felt so good against her skin when his cock was moving so perfectly insider her, sucked in by her cunt so tight and good. Eyebrows pressed tightly together, eyes shut closed, they were both equally mad at the world, at themselves, for letting go of the beautiful things they had together. They were angry at how this had to be left behind, making love, closing the distance between their bodies and make the other feel as heavenly as they could.

Her body slammed repeatedly against the glass wall, and fog wiped out by her skin being rubbed against it. He pounded into her, not so fast but not taking his time either. Jason kept a wonderful, steady pace, and Y/N looked down to see how perfectly his dick went in and out of her cunt, how it was clenching around him, stretching as tight as her mouth would allow her.

“Oh!” His hips snapped up to her ass, and with his incredible strength, Jason placed both her legs up to his shoulders so he could plunge even deeper than he possibly could. He moved up and at the same time, she let her momentum take course with her ass bouncing against his hips. She was pressed so firmly against the wall now, and she kept moving to her best capacity with her legs hoisted up, back against the wall, hands against the fog on the glass, she screamed.

Squirting loads out of her pussy, her juices spurted out on his cock, along with the water droplets down to the floor. There was nothing as humanely ecstatic and inconceivable as the explosion of an intense bursting of a waterfall, a coaster that descends to the bottom with the strongest force, a current that sparks up all the living cells on her body that had rendered her limbless, motionless, and it continued on as Jason chased his own release. Her high did not so easily fade, when his long strings of cum spilled inside her, so wonderfully filling her insides with his love and juices. Her head fell onto his shoulder and when he trembled, strength beginning to falter, Y/N’s legs dropped down to his hips, shaking at the immense feeling of everything happening at the same time.

Still at the reverb, Jason met her eyes, panting, kissing her lips, then he smiled. She smiled back.

Jason turned the shower off, and without even drying themselves off with the towel, lips occasionally meeting as they made their way out of the bathroom, they delved into the darkness and felt the coolness against their skin.

Y/N led Jason to the couch, and he plopped down with his damp body underneath her. She straddled his lap, arms around his neck. Her pussy just laid on top of his cock, not doing much to stimulate it, but when they kissed, so slowly and lovingly, she arched up her back so their chests would be pressed against each other as tight as she could. His arms the curve of her spine, running down her ass and thighs, she pulled away so she could whisper.

“I love you…”

“I love you,” he said right after. He held her face so desperately wanting to never let go. “Please don’t leave me again…”

She wiped a tear that stained down the mark on his cheek, even as her own had fallen down her neck. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore…”

“Then don’t leave… It hurts so much when I’m not with you…”

“Jay,” she cried as her hand held his face. She wanted to smile, because she was here, now. And he loved her. She wanted that love more than anything else. She remembered, one night back in the barracks, after a long night of fucking, she had reached out to this man, wanting to hold him for the night only for him to leave after he was done with her body. She remembered thinking it could never evolve to anything beyond that, and it did. Jason loved her now.

And she’d hurt him.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Please…” he pleaded. “Please stop it…”

“I killed our-“

“No,” he held her hands, trying to stop the tremors but he was shaking as well. “No. Don’t say that.”

“But I did…”

Pulling her hands away, only for him to pull them back around his neck so he could place his chin gently on top of her shoulder, holding her so close, he let her weep.

“Our son…” she buried herself into him, and he couldn’t stop his tears, holding her weak, naked body that had never been so vulnerable until now.

“Please. Y/N…”                                                                                                                                        

“Our little bullet… you were so nervous when you found out…”

“Please,” he swallowed. “It wasn’t your fault…”

“I never want you to get hurt like that again…”

“Y/N… You were hurting, too…” his whispers were soft, cooling despite it hot against her mouth. “You wouldn’t eat or do anything… I wanted so much to be there and take care of you. We were supposed to go through it together… and when you left… god, I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared of what could happen to you out there… I already lost our unborn baby… I didn’t want to lose you, too.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t leave anymore. Please.”

“I won't,” she kissed him, finally like a release of the grueling months, so cruel to them and merciless. “I won't… I love you…”

“I love you.”

He pulled her to the couch, on their sides. Jason held her close so she wouldn’t fall off the edge and encased her in his strong arms. Hugging his neck, letting the tears fall despite the rising heat, he let her heavy breathing against his ear harden his cock once again. He wiped out all other thoughts, of their sufferings, their losses. He forgot all of them for the moment and focused on the feel of her skin rubbing against him. Then he was inside her once more, so slowly moving and stretching her walls in the most intimately enthralling way possible. Her lips started to hurt from being pressed so tightly against his, her inner thighs starting to ache, the water from the shower was soon replaced with their hot sweat sticking to their skin.

The friction from the couch’s leather on the sides of their arms, she ignored such discomfort. She felt each thrust of his long, hard member, how it impaled her, reached out to her insides to call out more of her juices, her cries of love. She kissed him, bit his lip, then Jason reached his hand down to violate her clit. And not long after another hard slap of release fell through. She trembled at the quaking of her limbs, let herself fall into that release that relieved her of that itching within, one she couldn’t have reached herself. His cock did that job, and for a moment, she was out of her body, letting the tickling forces through her flesh and bone. He came inside her not long after, spewing his cum, though less than the first time, but as equally warm and soothing to feel spewing out of her pussy.

His cum continued to spill out of her hole as he pulled away, panting, smiling. She pulled his head to her as she felt her muscles relax from such an intense contraction.

They kissed on that couch for hours, falling asleep, waking up, kissing again, holding each other as close to each other’s body as they possibly could. She loved the feel of his rippling muscles, scorching hot being pressed against her chest.

Holding his face, Y/N finally, after so many months, smiled at him, at the sight of his beautiful face. His fingers were so lightly tracing her sides admiringly feeling her skin. Jason propped his head up with his arm, taking in the sight of her. He was smiling as well.

“What are you thinking?” she asked him.

“I’m just happy you're here.”

She leaned in to his lips for the nth time that night. “Me too…”

The lightness of her finger, tracing the lines between his pecs, further down to his abs, she made sure her she could still see every detail of him despite the darkness. Though, in just a few hours, the morning will come and greet them as the first, wonderful day of being back into each other’s arms.

Y/N hummed as Jason helped her turn around, pressing her back and ass up against him so he could encase her so lovingly with his biceps. She kissed his arm, dragged her lips against his skin, then Jason kissed her shoulder and whispered.

“I’m glad I have my partner again.”

She giggled. “I though Red Hood worked best alone.”

Teeth sinking into her collarbone, she sank deeper into him. “I need a hot sniper on my back.”

She turned her head back to kiss him, smiling.

“Anything happen lately?”

“Dick and Tim came up to me,” he grunted. “Assholes won't leave me alone.”

“They’re just trying to reach out.”

“I’m not interested,” he rolled his eyes and his arm held your waist closer to him. “What about you?”

“Amanda Waller called me. Again. She offered me a place in the squad without having to live in prison.”

“But you’ll have a bomb in your head.”

“Yes.” Y/N felt him snuggle into her tighter in an attempt to calm her irate nerves. “Even had the guts to use you against me.”

The sun had started to come up, and she was so awfully tired. She pressed her nose against his arm.

“Don’t worry. You’ll protect me.” Jason winked.

“And you’ll protect me.”

Another sweet, gentle kiss on the lips, then Jason reached over to grab a blanket he had on the couch and placed it over them, finally having the long, much needed rest they’ve been needing after months of endlessly agonizing loneliness.

-----

“Breaking news, on Good Morning, Gotham…”

Y/N dressed in an oversized hoodie and nothing else, took the cup of coffee from Jason’s hands and thanked him as he joined her on the couch, arm stretched behind her. Without speaking, they focused their attention onto the TV.

“At nine pm last night, the billionaire crime syndicate Roman Sionis, also known as Black Mask, has been found dead in where has recently been found out as hideout, office, and criminal base, along with thirty-two members of his founded False Face Society in another one of his safehouses and his warehouse at the Gotham Docks. Although there have been speculations of the body belonging to a double, DNA tests have confirmed that it was, indeed, Mr. Sionis, who had fallen four stories down from his office window.”

“Thank god,” Jason started munching on his toast. “Thought I’d killed another double this time.”

Y/N leaned against his arm, legs folded on the couch as she placed her head on his shoulder.

“Although it has not been confirmed, it has been suspected that the infamous Red Hood was behind this massacre…”

“Infamous,” she nodded in pride. “Nice job.”

“Thanks. You like my picture?”

His photo was of him flying in the air, a stolen shot from one of the reporters from The Gotham Times.

“Hot,” she kissed him.

“In other news, on the same night his known partner Deadshot was found in a high-speed car chase in Drescher after raiding what has been discovered as Mexican drug lord El Penitente’s warehouse. Ten bodies were discovered in the vicinity. Deadshot had driven a truck belonging to a nearby pizza restaurant and had disappeared, with the assistance of the Red Hood, by the time the truck was found crashing at the apartment buildings near Crime Alley.”

The clinked their coffee mugs together.

“The Gotham City Police Department is looking for more evidence on Deadshot for the murder of Salvatore Maroni, another billionaire discovered to have his own crime ring in Gotham, as well as evidence on Red Hood for the murder of Roman Sionis. If you have any information that you think can help-“

Jason turned the TV off, placed their mugs onto the coffee table and leaned in for a kiss. Y/N giggled, placing her legs over his lap, then played with his lips so gently without using her teeth as much to bite as she often used to. His hands, going up her waist underneath the hoodie, stopped when he pulled back to look at her.

“We should head over to your place. Get your stuff out and move them back in here.”

“Mmm,” her hand went to his crotch. “Right after this.”

Pushing his body to lay on top of the couch, they fucked for another few good hours until the morning became the afternoon, rain turned to a cloudless sky. The day never shined so bright, so much ahead of them.

She held his hand all the way over to her apartment. She’s never been so excited, never had so much to look forward to. They took his car, drove over to Bleake Island where her smaller apartment building was not far from the clocktower.

They reached the porch, and she couldn’t help but notice her window was open, curtains floating about.

As they made their way upstairs, she had no idea what to expect.

The first thing to notice was that the moment she opened the door, it had fallen out of its hinges before it could even fully swing open.

“Motherfucker…”

Couch torn apart. Bed practically inside out. The floor was covered from the feathers of her pillows, and the curtains, pulled down from the windows and teared on the floor. Her tiny kitchen had been mutilated, pots and pans all over the place as well as knives being thrown to the walls. Her TV was on the floor, broken in half. Her studio apartment, with what little size it had, had no floor surface she could even step into without knocking around any of her stuff.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

She didn’t care about any of it. Y/N, with the first thought that raced to her rational mind, ran to kitchen floor, throwing out all the feathers and clothes and other debris on the way, then took the floorboards apart.

“Fucking hell, thank god,” she sighed in relief. Jason went up to her side. Her guns. Her entire arsenal of weapons. They were all stashed under two layers of wood where the kitchen counter was supposed to be. Smart.

“You think Waller did this?”

“Other than the fifty other people in Gotham who want me dead? It’s a possibility.”

“How did they even find your place?”

Y/N took out a box from the closet, one that hadn’t been ripped to shreds, and placed all her weapons inside.

“I don’t know…” she flattened her lips. Jason knelt down beside her and rubbed her back. “Now I’m scared they’ll follow me to our place and hurt you…”

“Hey, hey,” he kissed her at the top of her head. “I can take care of myself.”

“Jay,” she gulped, holding onto her pistol like a little girl would to a doll. “Carmine Falcone is behind this…”

“Falcone?”

“After I cleared Floyd’s debt, he wanted me gone for good. He thinks I’ll rat him out.”

“What is it that he thinks you’ll rat him out for?”

Switching over to face him, on her knees, she let Jason take her hands.

“He asked me to kill off his rival gangs. The Chinese Triads. Manuel Escebado. Dragos Ibanescu. Sal Maroni. Even outside Gotham.”

“And Black Mask?”

“He knew what Falcone was trying to do, and he wanted to stop it before he kills him, too.”

“Shit.” Jason poured his breath out and swallowed. “This is dangerous.”

“I know…”

Looking down at her gun, finger tracing her palm to soothe her nerves, Jason placed the gun into the box, then held onto her hands as tight as he could.

“We’re in this together now. As I said. And I say we kill him.”

“What?”

He held her face.

“We kill Falcone. We wait until he’s out in public and take him out in plain sight.”

She laughed. “Jay, it’s not that easy…”

“It was easy when you killed off all those other guys.”

Y/N bit her lips before her grin hurt too much, then placed her forehead against him. Jason kissed her hairline, then pulled her close.

“We can do this… Together…”

She wrapped her arms around his chest and never let go.

-----

It was perfect.

The Change for the Children Fundraising Gala, held at the Gotham Museum of Art at Founder’s Island. The biggest names in the city will be all over the place begging for a photo, and it was well known that ownership of the museum had been turned over from the city government over to Mr. Carmine Falcone.

This year, for their memorial tribute for Bruce Wayne, the man who usually hosted this specific gala himself, the famous Bat signal will be shone from the museum all the way up to the sky to honor his name.

They were Mr. and Mrs. Peter Wallace for the night. They had already hacked into the guest list and added their names there without donating so much as a buck. They infiltrate the place, find Carmine Falcone, and if they were lucky, they can get him alone in the Museum.

Jason scratched the itch on his neck from the collar pulling on him too tight. Hair swept back, tie on his chest. He sat up, fixed his jacket. This was completely out of his comfort zone. How could he possibly move around in this? He’s worn suits, a number of times back in the manor. And he hated them. He looked good, obviously, even he couldn’t deny that. But his tie had always been too tight and his jacket too small. Now, even when it fit, he still wasn’t so comfortable looking at himself like this.

From the mirror of their bedroom, he straightened himself up, sighing in an attempt to calm his trembling nerves.

His face. His damned face. The ‘J’ mark on his left cheek that haunts him every morning he gets up from bed. He hated it to the bloody core. It whispered to him, to his ear, just how disgusting he looked with that mark on his face. He can't escape it. No matter what. No matter how much he tries to heal. It was always going to be there.

He turned away and walked to the bathroom.

“Holy mother of-“

Now. That. That. THIS. This was definitely, without a doubt, something he hadn’t expected but made complete sense considering how hot she looks with whatever she wore, whether it were bed clothes or a hoodie or her Deadshot suit and especially when she was naked.

But this? With whatever deity was up there, he only hoped he can get through the night without an erection taking his life away.

Leaning over the bathroom sink to put on some lipstick, his eyes started marveling over her perfectly made up face, not too much but as glammed up as he’s ever seen her before. Lips parted, as red as his tie was, they teased him and his choking breath. Her eyes looked glistening under that shade of her shadow, and her hair, flowing in its natural state yet neatly combed, pinned, and set behind her gorgeously curved back. Her shoulders looked so sexy and bare. And her dress. God, her fucking dress. It was gonna kill him. Definitely. A long, light beige evening gown that hugged her figure so perfectly well, over the curve of her back, the thin straps on her shoulders, how the light fabric molded over her ass being pushed out into the air, held up even firmer with the sexiest heels in the whole fucking world on her feet.

Jason’s cock looked painful trying to pry itself out of his pants. If he had the time, he’d jack off just by the sight of her right now.

“Like what you see?”

“Fu-uh-uck…” Shit, it even hurts to move.

Y/N grinned and placed her lipstick into her bag. “Come here.”

Moving over in front of her, he let her fix his tie and jacket so it wouldn’t fall apart from him scratching so much. His eyes were still as wideset and in disbelief, even more now that he could see her face up close. “You look so handsome…” she patted his chest.

“Mo-o-therf-fucker…” he choked. “If we’re going out like this, we won't get to get out at all… Fucking h-hell you're hot…”

“Stop it,” she hugged his neck, then he tried to lean down to kiss her but she pulled away, giggling. “Jay, my makeup-“

“Fuck, right now I wanna bend you over and fuck the living daylights out of you and you won't even let me kiss you.”

“You think I don’t wanna get down on my knees and suck you dry with this suit on?” she ran a hand down his chest. He almost came right then. “You’re so hot…”

His hands were on her ass, kneading them and pressing his erection against her stomach to do anything to ease it.

“Where’s your gun?”

Y/N smirked, then she held out her right leg, where the slit on her dress was, then showed him the gun strapped to her inner thigh.

“H-holy Jesus, I think I just jizzed my pants…”

“Stop,” she laughed even more. “I got my wrist gun on my ankle as well.”

“Please do this more often…”

“No. We’re here on a mission.”

“Then I’ll host those fucking galas myself if it means I get to see you look this fucking amazing.”

She was blushing, despite there already a pinking glow on her cheeks. “If we get to live by tonight,” she flicked his nose. “You can do everyting you want…”

“Falcone better die soon ‘cuz it’ll be awkward killing him with a hard on.”

“You ass.” He kissed her cheek, and stayed there for long minutes with her giggling filling up the room. They couldn’t stay long, for Jason’s sake, and eventually he had to pull himself away from her. They took his car and drove all the way over to the Museum, parking a reasonable distance away so they wouldn’t be caught driving a second-hand sedan next to the sports cars littered about in the driveway.

She pulled out her optics and placed it on her head. Jason was drooling at the sight of her.

“Fucking hell, you're killing me…”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We should stay behind. Just a bit longer when a lot of people swarm in. Don’t wanna draw too much attention to ourselves.”

Jason let his lingering gaze enjoy the sight of her some more, but as the excitement died down, the reality sinking in, he turned to the windshield and instead, saw his reflection.

The fucking ‘J’ mark.

Yeah. Not draw attention to himself.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“You have some more of that, uhm…” fuck. This was embarrassing. “That concealer of yours?”

“For what?”

“The uh…”

It broke his hear to see how her smile so slowly started to fade.

“Jay…”

“Can't draw attention to it…”

Y/N closed her eyes. Jason knew what she was thinking, what they were both thinking. She wanted to tell him there was absolutely nothing wrong with how that mark was still there, how it does absolutely nothing to change how she sees him as the most handsome, perfect being there was. But he was right, and she knew it. It had to be covered up.  

Y/N took out her purse and pulled out the tube of concealer. She patted it onto his skin, and Jason kept his eyes closed. He flinched at it being touched. God, he hated it.

And when he looked up, at his reflection, it was gone. Like it wasn’t there at all. He looked like himself before he was torn out of his body, torn out of what he used to be, from the life he once knew.

“Thank you…”

Y/N nodded and licked her lips. “Jay-“

“I’m fine. Seriously. Don’t worry about it.”

Y/N reached out to his face, holding his good cheek. And her smile, oh, how it was so beautiful. She looked absolutely perfect. Not a flaw. Not a single one. Not to his eyes.

Even after all those years, just in the tiniest bit, he wasn’t completely healed.

But Y/N was here now. She was his cure. She was his light.

Y/N leaned in and kissed him. Instantly, he smiled. God, he loved her.

“Let’s go in, Mr. Wallace.”

“After you, Mrs. Wallace.”

-----

Jason’s hand on Y/N’s back, the couple went into the gala halls with their heads up high, as smug as they could look blending into the other smug little bastards with billions to their name. But, in all honesty, it wasn’t as if they weren’t rich themselves.

Actually, they had no right to be disgusted at these billionaires’ dishonesty, fraud, embezzlement, exploitation of their workers. Whatever they did, it probably wasn’t as bad as their means of income.

If dishonesty were to be weighed in, they’d be sunken through the floor.

So yeah, they can't be so smug. But they had to be. To blend in.

They were probably one of the youngest in the halls that weren’t with their parents tailing along, so they had to stick to crowds, find their table, find Falcone, and get the hell out of here before anyone notices.

An attendant suddenly came up to them, holding a clipboard. “Good evening Mister-uhm…”

“Wallace. Peter.”

“Ah,” he nodded his head and placed a check. “You and your wife. Please. Your table is over there.”

They both smiled at the attendant, then at each other.

“Kinda like calling you my wife.”

“Kinda?” she grinned, squeezing his arm as they made their way to the table. They shouldn’t wait for the program to start. They can't take too long.

Also, Y/N’s ass had been at arm’s reach for hours now and his dick couldn’t handle being suffocated for so long.

“Do you see him?”

Y/N looked around, over at the tables, at the crowd at the center. Nothing. “No…”

Then a waiter served them their food. And as much as they didn’t want to get distracted by the food, it would raise suspicion. They ate as little as they could of the expensive fillet mignon and caviar and hoped their target actually would show up.

“Ladies and gentlemen! We’d like to open this fundraising auction with a word from out esteemed host, billionaire philanthropist Mr. Carmine Falcone.”

“How much do you think he’s stealing from this fundraiser?” Y/N leaned over to Jason’s ear.

“All of it. Let’s be honest.”

The old man fixed his white, shining suit jacket as he walked up on stage with a hand over to calm the applause. His hair was grey, mustache over his lip, and his eyes were permanently squinting at whatever it was in front of him as he stood straight up, hands over the podium, and started with his speech.

While he did, they went over their plan.

Earlier that day, they had inspected the place, went over its history and why exactly Falcone wanted to add this museum to his impressive list of properties. Turns out, the museum had a large underground basement used to store all its relics and artworks that already had its intensive security system. And it was much larger than any old warehouse could get. His cartels from abroad, disguised as museum artifacts, will be sent over to the museum all the way down to the basement. This place was actually the new base of operations for his drug empire in Gotham and it was all in plain sight for everyone to see.

And down there, Falcone had an office, which they plan on going through before they put a bullet right between his eyes.

Falcone had finished with his speech and it was time for the auction. When he left, he didn’t bother with the mingling or going around the tables to greet their guests. Instead, he went over to the back, along with three other men, his goons no less. Yes.

Jason looked at Y/N and nodded.

Y/N stood up walked over to one of the guards.

“Excuse me, I’m having trouble finding the bathroom, do you think you can show me the way.”

Jason fucking hated how he was ogling over her. But he had to move. Fast. Y/N went on to distract the guard and he walked away from their table, over to the back where they saw Falcone walk into. He turned over to a corner, and just as their plan went, Y/N turned the guard over to look the other way, her arm outstretched so he’d point to where the bathroom was.

And just as he turned to her, Y/N had disappeared.

“Nice job,” Jason said as Y/N joined him by the steps descending to the basement. They hurriedly walked down, and Y/N pulled out her optics, covered the bottom half of her face with a white scarf, while Jason pulled out his red visor.

“Where the hell did you hide that?” Deadshot asked.

“That’s a secret. We can't risk getting caught.”

Their heat sensors took them further down to a long narrow hall, dark and grey, with doors to other offices and rooms lead to probably for the administrators of the place. Everything had been emptied out and no one was in there. And if they went further in, to an armed door with five different locks, they’d find Falcone’s office, as well as his drug stash.

“You think it’ll be good to expose this place?”

“Not right now. They’ll hold these people hostage.”

“I knew that.”

Red Hood and Deadshot went into the hall where the lights started to fade out. They turned to a corner, and by then, it was almost completely dark. Deadshot turned on the lights on her optics. The armed door. It was there.

They each worked with one lock after the other, Red Hood with the bottom hinges and Deadshot at the top. After about fifteen minutes, Red Hood placed a disruptor against the wall to stop any lasers they might have installed behind it.

When the opened the door, another set of steps led down to the undergrounds.

Red Hood’s visor picked up the firsts of the sacks of cocaine lined up like they were mere bags of rice. And there was a buttload of them. And basically nothing else in the room. Bags upon bags stacked on top of the other, in rows leading all the way down to an endless side of the room. Deadshot’s light showed just parts of it. “Fuck.”

“Do you see his office?”

“There.”

At the corner. An empty room. With another set of locks. But the x-rays on Red Hood’s visor picked up a desk with lots of vaults and safes inside. There was no one in. Where was Falcone?

Deadshot unlocked the door, keeping the lights off. Hand grabbing her skirt she walked over to the desk while Red Hood kept to the door on the look-out.

“Where do we start?”

“How bout that?”

A safe at the center of the console table from behind.

Deadshot pulled out her knife and started to unlock it. “Anyone coming in?”

“Not yet, no.”

The safe opened, and she took out a folder inside stacked full of files that looked strangely suspicious. And they were.

“Oh my God…”

“What?” Jason asked.

“Maroni sold his casinos to Falcone.”

She held out a piece of paper. “Ibanescu’s night clubs. They’re all bought out by Falcone. Everything. The Triads. All their properties. Their money. It all went to his name. This one says Lew Moxon bought Falcone’s hotels, which is all the way in Indiana and I’m sure doesn’t even exist.”

“They’re all forged.”

“So Falcone had you kill them all. Now he owns all their properties and their money.”

“Which puts his ridiculous net worth at-“

“Almost two hundred billion dollars.”

Deadshot placed the files back into the safe. “Fuck…”

“Don’t blame yourself.”

“I don’t. I blame my stupid uncle for messing with a guy like this.”

Red Hood looked back over at the door.

“Waller warned me to stop my deal with Falcone. She must have known what was going on.”

“Never thought we’d admit to that woman being right.”

Red Hood watched on as Deadshot dug further around his desk.

“Shit! They’re coming! Hide!”

Carmine Falcone, esteemed billionaire philanthropist, swung his office door open.

“That fucking Sionis. I sure hope he rots his stupid fucking mask off in hell. Bastard wouldn’t know what hit him in the head. Ya know he lost all his money to fucking Bruce Wayne at one point? Yeah. A buyout.” The old man went up to his desk to grab a cigar. “What’s the total at?”

“A million dollars, sir.”

“Ah. That Mario painting’s the real deal. Make sure it doesn’t go below two m-“

The door suddenly slammed closed, just before any of the five men in the room could turn around, and Red Hood and Deadshot leapt out of their hiding spots.

Red Hood snapped the neck of the guard nearest to him, and Deadshot climbed over a man’s back, hands over his head, then twisted it over until he lost balance and fell to the ground. She then expertly grabbed his arm, tore the bone off his shoulder, before she slammed his bald head against the floor.

Red Hood ducked just before a guard could swing at his head, then he grabbed his body pushing it all the way over to a wall to stun him. He swung his fists immensely fast over and over at his chest until he felt his ribs break. “Deadshot!”

She dodged a gun shot from Falcone, flying in the air. Red Hood hurried to disarm him. Then Deadshot took out a vase from a nearby table and threw it at a man’s head. He caught it, but Deadshot’s heeled shoe was practically a knife when she kicked his stomach, pushing him to the ground, then she grabbed the vase and smashed it against his head with one swing.

Fuck, she’s hot.

Then they both grabbed their guns, pointing them at Falcone at the same time.

“Okay,” he held his arms up. “How much do you guys want. Ten million? Twenty?”

“We don’t want your fucking money.”

“Oh… Deadshot…” he eyed her too maniacally. It was disgusting. Red Hood shot his leg before his eyes could trail any further.

“Fuck! What the hell do you want from me!? A confession? You working for the police now, Hood?”

Deadshot took out her mask, let him look straight at her eyes as her finger went over the trigger.

“Is it true?” she asked. She shouldn’t be wasting time. She should be killing him now. “Did you take all those empires for yourself?”

“What’s so wrong with eliminating competition? Is this about your uncle? Floyd?” He laughed. “I’ll give you the fifty million. Debt cleared. That what you want?”

“Nope,” she clicked her gun. “I just want you to stop bugging me.”

She shot him in the head, and Falcone had it in him to not expect she’d actually do it. His eyes were wide open, head thrown back against the chair. His blood was spattered out all across the room, even on her dress and Jason’s suit. She wiped off a drop of blood from her face and stretched out her neck.

Red Hood helped her put on her mask, holding her hand so tight just to soothe her, even though he knew she did this basically everyday of her life. He locked the door, then they hurriedly snuck out of the basement, taking the stairs all the way up to the second floor where a window was waiting for them to escape with, where no one would see them.

Before they turned up the stairs, they saw a man walk into where they came from. A few seconds later they saw him rush out of the building, sweat pouring down his forehead as he whispered to the guards. Fuck.

Hand in hand, Red Hood rushed with her to the window nearby one of the art exhibitions and hastily pried the glass open with his hands. It was a story above ground, and the car was waiting for them across the street. They heard footsteps from behind. Fuck.

“There!”

“Get them!”

Deadshot threw her heels out the window and jumped onto the grass. Red Hood followed close behind. Not stopping for a second, they ran, then they heard bullets, shouts, screams from civilians. Police officers on standby rushed to the scene with their own guns. They ran through the museum’s gardens, through the streets, then they got into their car and sped away.

“I got eyes on Red Hood and Deadshot! Don’t let them get away!”

------

“Another breaking news on Gotham City 24. Earlier tonight, billionaire Carmine Falcone has been found dead in his office from a gunshot wound to his head, along with four of his accomplices in the underground basement of the Gotham Museum of Art, in the middle of his Change for the Children fundraiser which the philanthropist was last seen giving his speech just minutes before he died. What was thought to be a generous move for the people of Gotham turned out to be quite the scandal when five tons of cocaine were found stashed in said underground.

The act was done by no other than the vigilante partnership Red Hood and Deadshot. This report confirms their involvement in the deaths of Salvatore Maroni and Roman Sionis. They were seen leaving the Museum of Arts, rushing out to a parked vehicle before they narrowly escaped yet another high speed car chase.

The two had also been rumored to have been the masterminds behind the famous occupation of the City of Gotham two years ago by the Arkham Knight Militia. The Red Hood, as confirmed by Commissioner James Gordon himself, is the man behind the operations as the Arkham Knight, and Deadshot, the Commander of the Militia Army, who has been one of the most well-known mercenaries since the last Deadshot, Floyd Lawton.

Red Hood and Deadshot, as shown in these photographs, have now reached one of the East Coast’s most wanted vigilante criminals there is, with a bounty of ten million dollars each over anyone who can find them dead or alive. This news has circulated all over their home city, with its citizens calling the two Gotham’s very own modern day Bonnie and Clyde-“

Y/N, with her legs folded over Jason’s lap and her arm around his neck, turned the TV off and let out the most relieving sigh of exhaustion. She was still in her dress. Jason wouldn’t let her change out of it. Soothing his hand over her ass with the arm he had around her Jason playfully kissed her jaw.

“Bonnie and Clyde. I like that name for us.”

She snorted. “Those two couldn’t do half the things we’ve done.”

“Hey,” he squeezed her thigh. “What was it you promised you’d let me do if we got out of it alive?”

She traced his jaw. “Everything…”

His teeth sank into her neck and she let out the hottest breathy moan.

-----

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

-----

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